I promised some pictures for the grandparents, so here they are...
From our visit to Tim's parents' house - opening their gift from Gram & Papa
Fun with bows:
Lily became quite attached to Aunt Megan:
Back at home Christmas morning... Eve hogging the teddy bears:
Julia with fairy wings from Great Aunt Margie (they were a big hit):
Everyone enjoying the table and chairs from Grammy:
All dressed up in Christmas outfits from Gram and Papa (Eve wasn't too happy with the tights, but once we took them off she was running around all day saying "I'm so cute!" and "I look pretty!")
My department has a "Secret Santa"-type gift exchange every year. This year I got a new CD by Laurie Berkner, singer of such perennial favorites as "Pig on Her Head" and, of course, "Bumblebee (Buzz, Buzz)." I think the girls like it...
Happy triplets = happy Christine, so I am grateful. Even though I had to listen to this song 83 times in a row last night, and the first thing I am likely to hear tomorrow morning is "Listen buzz buzz again mommy?"
What they say:
Up, mommy! Up! Up!
What they mean:
Pick me up and walk two steps, at which point I will practically throw myself out of your arms in my hurry to get down. Walk two more steps, then pick me up again. Repeat 57 times.
What they say:
No! Don't want it!
What they mean:
As long as you stand there holding that toy/book/cup I don't want it. But the second you walk away with it I will scream so loud the neighbors' dog will start barking.
What they say:
More!
What they mean:
Get me more food, but I'm not going to eat it. I would like to have a full plate in front of me when I announce I am all done and start begging to get down. That way if you're not fast enough I can dump it on the table and start smearing it in my hair, which usually gets you moving.
What they say:
Go pee-pee on potty!
What they mean:
I'd like to sit on the potty for 15 minutes, play with the toilet paper, sing a couple songs, discuss my anatomy, count the lights in the bathroom, and then pee on the floor as we walk to the changing table to put my diaper back on.
What they say:
Nothing.
What they mean:
Option 1 (when you can see toddler): I am playing happily by myself. But don't think that means you can get up and do something productive. If you stand, stretch, pick up a magazine, or even sneeze I will realize you aren't giving me your undivided attention and do whatever is necessary to rectify that situation.
Option 2 (when toddler is out of eyesight): I am doing something really naughty. You'd better run.
***
What you say:
No.
What they hear:
Maybe, but only if you ask me 157 times in a row in an increasingly loud and whiny tone.
What you say:
We need to change your diaper.
What they hear:
I'm about to tear out your fingernails then apply a branding iron to your hindquarters. You may be able to avoid this terrible fate if you kick, scream, and thrash about wildly.
What you say:
It's time to get out of the tub!
What they hear:
The world is ending. Act accordingly.
Tonight was the first time we've heard Eve sing a whole song by herself. Can you tell what it is?
As I mentioned, we celebrated the girls' second birthday last weekend. My mom and I took on the task of assembling the present Tim and I bought them. Here's a picture of all the pieces (note there's stuff on the couch and the hearth as well):
Two and a half hours later, it looked like this:
The girls absolutely love this thing. We put it together Friday night after they went to bed and they played with it ALL DAY Saturday. Seriously, they did not play with a single other toy all day long. We had to literally drag them away from it to get them to eat breakfast. Late that afternoon more relatives arrived, with more presents, and finally some of the new toys got their attention. Our generous friends and family went a little overboard, and now we have lots of new things to play with. Tim has announced that there will be no new toys for Christmas and for once I think I might agree with him.
Here's our friend Calvin playing with the new vacuum:
And here's our friend Ellie having some tea:
We love the animal bowling pins Aunt Wendy and Uncle Brendhan got us (especially Lily):
And we've been having lots of fun with the tool kit too:
Some of the grown-ups had to be reminded to take turns:
The balloons were almost as big of a hit as the new toys:
It turns out the Aquadoodle doubles as a wrestling mat:
Thanks to everyone who came for making it such a fun birthday.
Two years ago:
One year ago:
Now:
I really wish they would slow down. We celebrated over the weekend, but due to a camera mishap I don't have any pictures yet. I'll put some up as soon as I can.
I have a blanket that one of my dear friends gave to me for my birthday probably 10 years ago. It's a woven cotten blanket in autumn colors, with a bunch of vegetables printed on it - I think they are supposed to look like seed packet covers. It's usually draped across the back of our couch. When the girls were babies, they would stare at the colors and patterns. Later they would point to the different vegetables and ask what they were. On Friday, Eve started pulling on it and trying to unfold it, so I spread it out on the floor so she could see it better.
You'd think Christmas came early. This blanket kept them occupied for a good 45-minute stretch. In my experience, the only other thing that will hold the attention of 3 toddlers that long is shredding a box of tissues. (Yes, I let them do it. I was desperate.) They played on that blanket on and off all day. We named all the vegetables and identifited most of the letters. We talked about the different colors. We jumped on and off it. We hopped around on the squares.
We did silly dances on it:
We pretended to take a nap on it:
After our real nap, we had our snack on it:
Then we pretended to take a nap with our snacks:
The other favorite activity that day was feeding each other pretend food and drinks. They have just started doing this. Eve will bring a cup over to me and say "Made cookies!" then pretend to take one out and feed it to me. Lily and Julia got some "cookies" too.
So just to recap: The two items that they played with all day were:
1. A 10-year old blanket.
2. Air.
Tim is threatening to return their birthday presents.
Dear Eve, Julia, and Lily,
Two years ago yesterday, I was admitted to the hospital for pre-term labor, and didn’t leave until after you were born.
Two years ago today, my doctor told me to prepare myself for the possibility you might be born that day, almost 3 whole months early.
Sixty-two years ago today, my father was born. I remember convincing myself that if you were born on his birthday, that everything would be ok, even if you came that early. Fortunately that theory wasn’t put to the test, and we were all able to hang on a few more weeks.
You never got to meet my father, because he died a few years before you were born. I don’t know what he would have wanted you to call him, so I will just call him your Grampa.
Years ago, long before I met your dad, I was visiting my grandparents in Florida for Thanksgiving. Your Grammy and Grampa were there, and so was one of my cousins and her little girl, who was about the same age then that you are now. I looked up from where I was sitting at the kitchen table to see my dad walking into the room. He was a big guy, over 6 feet tall with broad shoulders. He totally filled up the doorframe as he walked through and he was carrying this tiny, blonde, pale little girl in his arms. He looked so natural, and it was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen. And even though I wasn’t anywhere near getting married or having babies I suddenly was very much looking forward to him becoming a grandfather. It breaks my heart that it never happened.
There is so much I want to tell you about him; so much that I will be telling you your whole lives. But today I will start with these few small things.
As I mentioned, Grampa was a big guy. He could act tough when he wanted to but that was pretty rare. He had a big, wide, open, honest smile that he shared often.
He wasn’t ashamed to cry. He was always the first to pull out the tissues at weddings and it wasn’t unusual for him to well up during a tearjerker of a movie. He cried when we he said goodbye to us at airports and he cried when we danced at my wedding. He taught me that it’s ok to feel emotions deeply, and to share them with others.
He was very athletic. He played baseball, basketball, and football in high school, and he was good at all of them. Later he took up golf.
He was a good cook and always made me my favorite dessert, Cherry Clafouti, for my birthday. He always made Sunday brunch, and breakfast on Christmas morning.
He loved music. I can remember him listening to Abba records on headphones after we’d gone to bed. And sort of defeating the purpose of the headphones when he sang along very loudly and off-key.
He gave the best hugs of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. I am talking serious, full-body bear hugs that make you feel safe and protected and loved.
I think I am supposed to tell you that he is still here with us. I wish I felt that way all the time, but lately when I think of him I have been feeling his absence quite keenly. Maybe it is still too soon. After all, he was my father my whole life; five years isn’t enough time for me to resign myself completely to a world without him. Or maybe it’s that as I watch you grow up, I wish more and more that he could have known you.
But I am certainly reminded of him all the time. Your Papa and your Grampa became fast friends when they met, and they remind me a little of each other. They don’t look anything alike, but they share some expressions and mannerisms. Not to mention a love of Guinness. And I think your Papa is the second-best hugger I’ve ever met.
Eve, you have olive skin that tans easily, like your Grampa. Lily, I wonder if maybe you inherited some of his athleticism when I watch you kicking and throwing balls all around the back yard.
All three of you were born with a small, reddish birthmark on your forehead. Julia, your birthmark is the only one that we can still see clearly, and I think of your Grampa every time I notice it. Your doctor told us some people call those birthmarks “angel kisses,” and I like to imagine that your Grampa gave them to you. He was very affectionate. I can remember playing a game with him where he’d give me a kiss, then I’d give him a kiss, then he’d give me another kiss and dodge me when I’d try to give him one back, grab my head and plant another one on me. The point of the game was to give the other person more kisses than they gave you. Every once in a while I’d get ahead by a kiss or two and exclaim that I’d won. He’d tell me there was no way I would ever catch up because of the thousands of kisses he’d given me as a baby.
I have kissed those birthmarks hundreds and hundreds of times to try to make up for all the ones your Grampa would have given you. You’re never gonna catch up.
Love,
Mommy
This post brought to you by guest blogger Tim (aka Daddy).
In three weeks our girls will be two years old. They were seven weeks premature (I used to round up to two months until Christine rightfully pointed out that she fought very hard for those last days). Raising preemies is a comparative exercise. Doctors are constantly comparing them to normal growth charts, and you cringe every time your child gets a 23% in height or a 31% in weight. You feed them regularly and give them as much as they’ll possibly eat in hopes they’ll grow up to be “normal” (or, secretly, at least a little bit better than normal), whatever the American Academy of Pediatricians says “normal” is. At almost two, they are healthy, active, happy, and growing. No more comparisons necessary, right?
It’s not that easy.
Physically they are still small for their age. I was reminded of this last weekend when we took them to a gymnastics class for children 18 to 30 months old. Our girls needed more help on some of the equipment than the other children, but they loved it. Lily in particular climbs anything she can find and throws herself off with glee. Julia jumped up and down, counting to ten in the loudest, screechiest, happiest voice I’ve heard from her. Eve ran all over and approached other children. They were some of the happiest kids there.
Mentally they are sharp. They recognize most letters of the alphabet and can say at least one word the letter starts with, can count to ten in English and Spanish, and have started to memorize parts of the books we read. They have looked at the 1/8”-long line with a blotch on the top in an Impressionist painting and correctly said “umbrella!” And they actually play together, not simply side-by-side. They invent games. Some look like crack the whip and some follow the leader. Some don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen. Those are my favorite.
Like other children their age, they are becoming much more effective at asserting their wills, and they expect immediate satisfaction! One whose name I shall not mention has begun throwing major tantrums.
Almost every day they surprise us with a new word they’ve learned and can use properly. They put sentences together with the correct person, number, and tense. We laugh at the odd phrases they pick up and repeat, such as “around the clock” from the weather channel and “cool baby” from me.
I’m the oldest of seven kids, so I know this is typical baby stuff. The books they tear pages out of, the xylophone they fight over, the cups they throw on the floor, the pots and pans they love to bang together, the blankies they clutch at bedtime—it’s normal stuff. It’s what we expect of little children.
But yesterday I came across something that surprised me. I had borrowed a saw from one of my friends to cut replacement boards for our deck bench. After finishing I carried the saw around to the front porch so my friend could come pick it up. As I started to put it down, I saw two sticks lying by the door. One short, one long. The kind Eve likes to carry. She had picked them during our last walk and laid them down by the front door so she could play with them on her next walk.
I thought of archeologists in the distant future excavating our house and finding those two sticks, lying neatly side-by-side. What would they think? The sticks are obviously not from a tree in the immediate area. Were they crude tools for scraping shoes? Pieces of a game? A symbol to ward off evil spirits? I’m don’t know what purpose archeologists would assign to the sticks, but they would see them as a sign of intelligence, of thought, of purposeful human action.
It sounds peculiar, but those two little sticks helped me see my daughters as individuals growing to become themselves, already making a small mark on the world.
