First Day of School

Last year, I had such a hard time with the thought of sending the girls to Mother's Day Out. I wasn't sure if they were ready. This year, September 8th couldn't come soon enough! With Jeff being gone most of the week, I was ready for the break. And, the girls love school; they love spending time with their friends, adore their teachers, and learn so much. They didn't even have to adjust to new teachers, as Ms. Jeri and Ms. Stefanie decided to move classrooms with them.

That morning, we all three reluctantly climbed out of bed. I dressed them both in their new outfits bought especially for their first day, packed their lunches, snapped a quick photo, and we headed out. It took several weeks last year for Cadie to go in to class without tears, so I braced myself for the possibility. Even when she got better, she reverted after I was gone on vacation last spring, so I was crossing my fingers it would be a tear-free morning. As I hoped, there was nothing to worry about. Neither one of them put up the slightest fuss; they were thrilled to be back at school and in a more spacious classroom no less!

That afternoon, I picked them up from school, bringing our traditional cup of root beer and a cookie, their treat for being big girls all day. They chattered excitedly about their day, spouting off friends' names and singing new and old songs. I was relieved they'd had a good day, but I would be lying if I didn't confess that a tiny part of me was sad that they had done so well without me. They truly are big girls now.

2009

2008

They've grown so much!

The End of an Era

The past couple of months, any moment that includes the girls going to sleep has been a nightmare. I knew what was happening, but thought if I ignored it or finagled around it, I could delay the inevitable. Nap time became a daily chore. I tried everything; lying down with them, separating them, threatening them, staring them down...you name it. Most days, after well over an hour of trying, I would eventually get them to sleep. Each of them would sleep for at least an hour-and-a-half, a short and sweet taste of silence for me. The downside? Bedtime. Refreshed from their afternoon nap, many nights it would be 10 or 10:30 before they would start calming down and dozing off. That put them in their beds for 1 ½ to 2 hours before falling asleep! And, of course, those 1 ½ to 2 hours included me making multiple trips back to their bedroom to console, threaten, fix blankets, answer questions, pick up Bebes or random stuffed animals, give one more sugar or hug, and so on. By the end of the day, I was too wiped to do much more than sit on the couch and lose myself in a TV show of my choice. Nothing was getting done.

So, earlier this week, I finally accepted that the nap era has come to an end. It just became more fight than it was worth. And, how has the week gone? Tremendously well! The girls play well during the day, and although they start getting a little cranky after dinner, they're out just about the moment their little heads hit the pillow at 8 o'clock. The evening has once again become "me time" for mommy, and I'm back to getting things done!

I remember the dread when the morning nap became painfully unnecessary. I treated the loss of their afternoon nap as much the same, but really it's been easy. I think the more painful realization that comes with this change is that it is just another sign that they are growing up. Much too quickly if you ask me.

Epiphany

Last night, as I lay in bed, winding down from the day, I had one of those moments. It was one of those times in life when the reality of something hits you smack in the middle of the eyes. I've been a mother for nearly three and a half years now, but just last night, the weight of that responsibility came crashing down on me. It isn't like I've spent the first three years of the girls' lives completely unaware of my role as their mom, oblivious to the fact that Jeff and I are 100 percent responsible for raising them to be good, caring, generous, loving, Christ-like, honest individuals. It was just one of those moments that sideswipes you, when the full impact of that responsibility seems terribly heavy.

I'm proud of who the girls are today, always have been. Madeline is clever, silly, surprisingly honest, and very forgiving. She has a laugh that is incredibly contagious, protects her sister, says "please" and "thank you", and doesn't let anyone walk all over her. Cadence is tender-hearted, loving, affectionate, a whiz with puzzles and anything else that requires problem solving. She often puts others before herself, already takes her faith very seriously, and is always ready with an "I love you". I happen to think they're pretty fantastic, but in that moment, I worried that maybe they're too fantastic. Isn't that a horrible thing for a parent to worry? In our world, will their sweet, caring, loving sensibilities be swallowed? Is it possible for them to remain who they are without being trampled by those around them?

In my eyes, it's a mother's job to worry; it's part of who I am. But in that moment, I had to remind myself that we can't protect our children from everything. Many well-meaning parents insulate their children from the bad things in this world, and as a result, their children are ill-equipped to face those situations. I know that it's my job, as Cadie and Maddie's mom, to raise them to be the best Cadie and Maddie that they can be. And I think we're off to a pretty good start.

Dream a Little Dream

The girls have said things here and there in the past that have led me to believe that they might have had a nightmare. Things like, "That mean boy came in my room and tried to get me" or "There was a scary monster in there last night!" Dreaming is, yet again, another non-tangible that I've found it difficult to explain to the girls. I think, though, I've managed to provide them with at least some understanding. I hate the idea that they are already having bad dreams, but this morning I got confirmation that they are also having good ones. After Jeff had left to go to some appointments, Cadie came and crawled into bed with me, rolled over, and went back to sleep. When she once again woke up, she said to me very excitedly, "Mommy! Do you know what? I helped Marlin find Nemo and get him back to his daddy!" I asked her if she'd had a dream that she helped Nemo's daddy find him, and she smiled back with a "Yes!" Mind you, we haven't watched Finding Nemo in a couple of weeks, but I'm not surprised that my girls dream in Disney. She was so excited and so proud; and I was relieved that all of her dreams aren't the bad kind.

Bare Buns

This time last week, I decided I'd had enough. Maddie had slid back so far in her attempts at becoming potty trained that she was once again in pull-ups full time and no longer doing anything in the potty. I know my child. And as much as I wanted to make excuses for her -- She's scared because she thinks it will hurt; There's something wrong in her diet that is keeping her from going when she needs to; and so on. The truth of the matter is, she's just too darn stubborn and too darn busy. So I did what any sane parent would do; I took away her pull-ups and her panties and made her spend the day in her bare buns.

Most of the time, my children fully embrace nudity. They love running around naked and having some naked time. They're free spirits. On this occasion, though, Madeline was none too thrilled. She shrieked for some pull-ups, tears running down her cheeks. Two things about this situation I was confident of: 1) Madeline was using her pull-ups as a crutch. She knows she can go in them and the only consequence is an irritated Mommy. Although the feeling isn't pleasant, she can handle some stink in her drawers for a while until it's cleaned up. 2) Madeline would not poop on the floor. This, I just know. So taking away her pull-ups and not allowing her panties or pants meant she had one option: pooping in the potty.

I left the girls with Jeff so I could turn in my fair entries, and imagine my surprise and delight when not ten minutes from home I got a call from a proud Madeline stating she had pooped in the potty (she also elaborated that it was a really, really, really big poop). Not only had she pooped in the potty, but she had done it completely on her own. The day progressed with yet another solo poop, and I hoped that we were finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

Since then, Madeline has been a pooper star. I think we've passed the worst and that we are finally on our way to a fully potty-trained household. Both girls were rewarded with some brand new Dora, Spongebob, and Elmo panties. They're so proud of themselves; and Jeff and I are solving problems, one bare bottom at a time!

Well Crumb...

Call me indecisive, but I'm back.  When it comes to all things creative, I get antsy.  I couldn't stand not being able to make my blog "cute" on Xanga, so here I am, back at Blogger where I can use super cute templates made by other hardworking, creative, html literate people.  So there you go.

Lydia

I've never claimed to fully understand my children. I knew, with them being twins, that they would likely have a special bond, oftentimes absorbed in their own special world, speaking their own special language. And, as expected, that is the case. They've had a special connection even since they were babies. The day they both could crawl, they took off down the hall on their own little adventure, giggles abounding. As they've gotten older, their special bubble has grown to encompass imaginary play involving cats in the attic, cooking food in their "Old McDonald's", using bobby pins to unlock their doors at "work", and running through the house pretending they are being chased by a monster, at times one of them playing the role of said monster. One part of their play that stands out more than the others, though, is them calling one another "Lydia". It started months ago, I can't even remember the exact moment. But for quite some time now, I'll hear them playing or watch them racing through the house saying, "Come here, Lydia! Hurry or the monster is going to get you!" Or, "I said come here, Lydia. You need to mind or your mommy is going to give you a spankin'!" And, "Where are you, Lydia? We need to get ready to go to the store." I know they aren't referring to an imaginary friend because they are always referring to one another. As far as the name is concerned, I have two explanations. 1.) Their Grana –my stepmom—is named Lydia. We've always tried to refer to grandparents as their assigned name, especially when the girls were younger and they were still learning. As the girls got older, if we slipped and I called Daddy, Jeff, Cadie would give me a stern look and say, "Don't say Jeff, say Da-ddy." There must have been a few instances the girls heard Grana referred to as Lydia, because they quickly learned that was her "real" name. 2.) The girls have a cousin named Lydia. I'm more inclined to go with the former rather than the latter because they have only spent time with their cousin on two or three occasions and it's been almost two years. I think they must have latched onto Lydia's name because they rarely hear anyone refer to their Grandma –Jeff's mom—or Nana –my mom- by their first names. So, it all comes down to this. I blame Poppy –my dad—because he's terrible with names. He oftentimes refers to Lydia by her first name and even went through a stint of calling her "Granny" (which she loved...). Madeline even took to calling her Granny, with a glint of mischief in her eye. Regardless, though, of what name they call one another, I always smile and chuckle because I cherish the bond they have with one another; it's a special one.