Threeasy

We're three!  It's been awhile since I've written a post, and I think part of it is because I haven't had any great challenges to vent about lately.  The girls have been growing and learning like crazy, and they continue to make us laugh on a daily basis.  I was a little terrified of the 'threes', from stories I had heard from other parents, but so far so good.  That being said, we're only one month in.
Why three is great so far:

• My girls can climb into our minivan, climb up into their car seats, and buckle their harnesses by themselves.  All I have to do is tighten them in.  What a difference this makes, you can't imagine.  I can actually run more than one errand with them without exhausting all of us, and it's totally manageable.
• They can go downstairs in the early morning and grab an orange or banana from the fruit bowl if it's too early to go down and start breakfast, or if I'm running a bit late for work.
• They can go potty!  Woohoo!  This isn't such a new development, but there are far fewer accidents, and now they can wipe themselves (for pee at least), climb up on a stool, turn the tap to cold, and wash/dry their hands independently.  I'm smiling as I write this it makes me so happy.  They would love it if I would let them dump the pee from the pots into the big potty, but I prefer that they don't.
• They can make their beds, and put their pajamas away each morning.  Miss A even likes to fold hers, and she's really good at it, too!  They will also put their dirty clothes in the laundry basket with encouragement.  Toy pick up is a work in progress, but we've had a few talks about why toys go missing, and I'm hoping that very soon they will see the benefit of a place for everything and everything in it's place.  We'll see.
• They have turn-taking down pat.  They're so used to it by now, sometimes I don't even have to remind them.  There are certainly arguments over some things, but for the most part, sharing is so ingrained in them, they know what they have to do. 
• They can clear their dishes from the table and put them into the sink.  Hey, every little bit counts, right?
• And the number one best thing about being three - my girls are beyond excited to become big sisters. This is great, because we are expecting baby #3 in two and a half months (perhaps another reason for my lack of posts).  They constantly ask questions about the baby, they tell me every day what they're going to teach the baby, and they give my baby bump cuddles and kisses all the time, and talk to their baby through my tummy.  Miss A is especially affectionate with my bump, often rubbing it and saying "We'll keep you safe, baby."  I always thought I would do the two year gap between kids, like a lot of people do, but I'm really thrilled with the timing of this pregnancy so far.  I could not imagine having welcomed a baby a year ago (although I know of other twin moms who did), as I found my girls were still so demanding of my time and attention.  Now, however, I feel like the timing couldn't be better.  The girls are potty trained,  in big girls beds, they can go in unparented classes and activities, they'll be off to preschool in September, and communication is so much easier.  I feel like they have as good an understanding as possible for their age about what's to come.  

So, with the addition of a baby, we'll see if things are still "threeasy", but for now, I have to say, life is good.

A Taste of Medicine

When my babies were born, I excitedly examined them head to toe, counting fingers and toes, and marveling at their appearances.  After waiting such a long time, imagining what they would look like, to finally meet and see these little people was, in a word, breathtaking. 

They were perfect,  thank God.  Healthy and perfect.  But now I make my guilty confession.  Miss A was born with a pre-auricular tag (a small piece of extra skin tissue right in front of the ear), and I felt briefly disappointed when I saw it.  I feel ashamed to say that now, but I'm being honest.  On her tiny 5 pound frame and her nearly-bald head, it looked so big in the beginning (it was about the size of a tic tac, maybe slightly smaller).  As a proud new mommy, I hated the thought of showing off my perfect, beautiful baby girl and having to answer the question, "What's that?". 

So, if the doctors had offered to remove it that day, I probably would have agreed.  But that's not how it happened.  We saw our pediatrician at 2 weeks, he sent a referral to a pediatric plastic surgeon, and basically said, don't hold your breath, it won't be anytime soon.  We lovingly named Miss A's ear tag her 'antenna', and I smiled at the thought that she was so special that God made a little extra piece of her.  Over a year passed.  I hardly thought about it anymore.  Miss A had a nice little head of hair and a beautiful personality, and her (now tiny looking) ear tag was the least of my concerns.  Then a call came for a consult, and it was forefront in my mind again.  This time, though, instead of anxiously wanting to have it removed, I was anxious about the thought of my baby girl having to have surgery.  Oh, how perspective changes.  Not to worry, we saw the surgeon and he told us he'd try to get her in before she started school.  Phew.  Nothing to worry about for a few more years.

Another year passed.  Did I worry about the skin tag?  Not at all.  Did I want it removed as soon as possible?  Wasn't worried about it.  Miss A wore ponytails with her ear tag on full display, no one ever asked about it, and she was as cute as a button.  She certainly never asked about it either.  Then the phone call came.  We had a surgery date 9 days before Christmas.  What?!  She's only 2 1/2! I thought I had more time before I had to worry about this!  General anesthetic?  I don't know.  I had a pit in my stomach for two months wrestling with the decision.  I talked to a lot of friends who have older children in school, about self-esteem and teasing.  I heard from family members who thought I should just leave it be, that it would build her character.  I thought about myself as a teen, and what I would have wanted.  My husband preferred to have it removed, thinking of how cruel kids can be.  I agreed.  I wanted to protect my little girl from hurtful words.

The doctors tell you about the procedure, and of course, the very rare risks.  This is the hardest part.  What if something happened?  What if my little girl was the one in a million?  For what?  For something purely aesthetic?  Ultimately, we weighed the risks and benefits and decided to proceed.

We prepped Miss A one or two days in advance, that we were going to the doctor and that he was going to check her ears.  We went to the hospital as a family, and Miss M was there the whole time to support her sister.  Knowing their personalities, I'm sure the day would have been much more stressful had it been Miss M, as at that point, she was still quite fearful of doctors.  Miss M knew that this day was all about her sister though, and she was happy to come along for moral support.  Miss A happily changed into her hospital pajamas and got stickers on both of her hands (numbing cream).  Then off we went to do puzzles and watch movies until it was our turn.  I went with her into the OR and she calmly sat on my lap while the anesthesiologist put in her IV.  We looked at all of the pictures on the walls and she didn't even flinch when her needle went in.  Within seconds, the staff were urging me to lay her down as quickly as possible, and as I laid her on the table, she was completely limp.  The thought of that moment brings tears to my eyes.  The nurses had warned me she wouldn't look like her normal sleeping self, and they were right.  It was the hardest and scariest moment I've been through as a parent.  I was whisked out of the OR at that point and given a pager that would go off in an hour or two, I was told.  I went back to hold Miss M in my arms and to try to distract myself.

Within an hour, our pager beeped and we rushed in a panic to the day ward.  We found Miss A sitting quietly in a nurse's lap, eating a purple popsicle.  What relief, I can't describe it.  She was doing great.  Miss M quickly talked the nurse into getting her a popsicle too, and was very determined that she would like a pair of those hospital pajamas as well.  The girls each had another popsicle, and then we were on our way.  Miss A was dancing by the time we were home.

Was it the right thing to do, I guess I'll never know.  I do know that Miss A was the definition of brave that day, and she made me so proud.  There were no tears, no complaints, nothing.  I think she helped her sister as well.  Miss M saw that doctors and nurses take care of us (and give us posicles), and along with a few storybooks about trips to the doctor, I think the whole experience has helped Miss M to overcome her fear.  I can't say enough about the staff who took care of us that day, and helped to make such an intimidating experience such a positive one.

From the Mouths of My Babes

This blog is my journal, more or less, because I want to document this time in my life.  So, I've decided that this is where I will write down all of those wonderful things that my children say.  I'm sure I will be adding to this entry frequently, but here's a start (collected since September 2010):

• Miss M, after much thought about why she was screaming in the car - "I'm just crying."
• Miss A, to an elk grazing on the side of the road - "Goodbye Elk!  Enjoy your salad!"
• Miss M, laying her head on my chest while I was laying down - "Mommy, where did your other booby go?
• Miss M - "You're very clever daddy."
• Miss A - "Does Cousin live on Earth mommy?"
• Me - "Are you tired?", Miss M - "No, I don't have yawns."
• Me - "Who are you calling?", Miss M - "China."
• Miss A, after a pee on the potty - "Fantastic!"
• Miss M to Miss A - "Be careful sweetheart the water is too warm."
• Miss M - "My pom-pom is beautiful!  It looks like a firework!"
• Miss A, presenting herself to me in the kitchen - "At your service!"
• Both - "Polka-bots."
• Miss M to Me, after I went to the washroom - "Bravo Mommy!  I'm really proud of you!" 
• Miss A to her Daddy, who was wearing black long underwear - "You're dressed like a prince Daddy!  Let's dance!  La, la, la la..."
• Miss A to her Grandpa - "Do you have little boobies Poppa?"
• Miss M, wide-eyed, who thought Santa was coming to the house momentarily - "I have to go upstairs and do some laundry."  (She wanted to get away, that's the best excuse she could think of).
• Miss M - "Where's Canada?"  Me - "We're in Canada now, we live in Canada". Miss M - "I live in Canada, it's my home and native land".
• Me to Miss M - "Do you need to use the potty?"  Miss M - "No, I went yesterday", followed by "I went on Saturday".
• Miss A - "Where's Daddy going?".  Me - "To the gym, to exercise".  Miss A - "Is he going to run?  Is he going to run like the wind?". 
•  Miss A, frustrated with a task beyond her abilities - "I can't do it!  I'm not bigger yet!  I'm not a mommy!"  (She has also used "I'm not a daddy").
• Me to Miss M - "Please get your finger out of Mommy's ear", Miss M - "But it's the perfect fit!" 
• Miss M to the babysitter - "You have necklaces on your teeth."  The babysitter - "No, they're braces."  Miss M - "Oh...bracelets!"
• Me to Miss M - "Did you pee in your bed last night?"  Miss M - "No, it got wet all by itself."
• Miss M, opening the door for me when I got home from work - "Hello Mommy, welcome to our house!"
• Miss M to Miss A, who was 'reading' a book - "What does it say, Miss A?"  Miss A, pointing at the words with her finger - "It says... always cooperate with your Mommy."
• Miss A, as we were cuddling in her sister's bed to read a story - "Daddy can sleep in my bed tonight Mommy, let's mix it up".

A Perfect Pair

Oh, the time I spend looking.  Searching.  Hunting.  If Miss A has one thing, Miss M must have the match, and vice versa.  There is 2 of almost everything in this house.  If not a duplicate, a variation.  For Cinderella there is Belle.  For Mickey there is Minnie.  For cow there is pig.  Blue crocs, pink crocs.  Yellow cup, purple cup.  It used to be high chairs, exer-saucers,  bouncy chairs, Bumbos, you name it, we have two.  Now it's mainly toys.  And potties.  We have four of those.  My husband recently called me an 'inventory freak'.  He's right, I am. Since my girls were born, I've counted.  Everything.  Before I went anywhere, or left anywhere, I had to do inventory.  2 soothers, 2 blankies, 2 bibs, 2 (or 4, or 6) toys, 4 socks, 4 shoes, 4 mittens, etc.  It gets worse as they get older, because a) I have less control over where things go and b) not only does it drive me crazy when something gets left behind, they notice and they drive me crazy too.  "Where's pig Mommy?  We have to find pig.  Where is he Mommy?  Can you find him?  No, you look upstairs Mommy.  Please, Mommy?"  It doesn't stop, which is why I hunt, and why I count.

Is two of everything necessary?  No, definitely not.  The girls share very well for 2 1/2 year-olds, in my opinion.  I think this is one of the benefits of twin-ship, that sharing is a concept learned from very early on.  However, they also learn interactive play from early on, which is one reason why we do have so many duplicates.  Not that they can't share, but because they like to play together so much, and having two of the same toy often makes that easier for them.  Instead of negotiating (or fighting) about whose turn it is, it's easier for me not to have to referee, and nicer for them to each have their own.  And I can't lie, I love to see 2 little pairs of fairy wings running around the corner, or two trucks racing each other across the kitchen floor.

But more important than any other pair is the pair of them.  What a gift.  What a bond.  I've marveled at it since they were infants.  My girls truly are the perfect pair.  They do everything together, and when they're apart (rarely) they're each asking about the other.  They play together, sing together, dance together, giggle in the dark together, comfort each other, and truly love one another.  So when I hear almost daily from someone who tells me they want twins, it's hard not to think, 'yeah, you do'.

Facing our Fears

Miss M is scared.  She has always been more cautious than her sister - as babies strangers would frequently comment on Miss M's serious demeanor, while Miss A would share her smile with anyone who passed by.  I was never concerned, because the smiles came out in abundance when Miss M was around familiar faces.  Lately her fears have become much more apparent.  She's scared of Santa, the vacuum cleaner, the doctor, the door stopper (more so the sound it makes if someone pulls on it), dogs, and I'm sure there's more but these are the ones most present in my mind. 

We were recently at a home of some friends, and it was the first time we visited their house with our girls in tow.  They have a bulldog, and Miss M was on the run from it for the entire night, shrieking and moving from chair to chair to stay as far away from it as possible.  I had no idea she was so terrified until that night, and I was caught off-guard.  I didn't know how to handle it.  On one hand, I wanted her to face her fear so that she could learn that it's okay, but on the other hand, her instincts were telling her it wasn't safe.  Maybe she was right.  I don't really know that dog, and although our friends assured me that it's fine with children, do I want to teach Miss M to ignore her instincts?  I don't want her to approach strange dogs.  After some initial attempts to get her to relax around the dog, I gave up and just helped her to keep a safe distance.  As the evening went on and she watched Miss A and another child playing carefree around it, she relaxed a became a little more brave.  I was happy with that.

Now, Santa.  Going into the holiday season, I laughed at the thought of the classic 'kid-crying-on-Santa's-lap' Christmas photo.  We had one like that last year, Miss A just going with the flow, and Miss M with a big pout on her face.  I planned on going for it again.  That is, until I took Miss M to the grocery store where they had a mechanical waving Santa set up in the produce department.  She took one look at him and literally dove into the bottom of the shopping cart and curled up into the fetal position.  She wouldn't come out until he was totally out of sight.  Okay, so maybe no Santa photo.  I don't think the photo would be nearly as cute or funny knowing that my child was absolutely terrified.  I can't put her through that.  Again, her instincts are telling her that sitting with a strange man in a costume is not a good idea.  Not a bad instinct.  I'll tell her that it's okay because Mommy and Daddy are there, and we'll give her the opportunity to go, but I'm definitely not pushing this one.  If Miss A wants to lead the way and her sister decides to follow, great.  If not, I'm okay with that.

Miss M has been terrified of the doctor since she was about 18 months old.  I took the girls to get their teeth cleaned at that time, and I think it must be one of her earliest memories, because since then, any office that has a medical feel to it sends Miss M running in the other direction.  This one is a little more challenging, because when you have to see the doctor, you don't get to opt out.  Luckily she only has to go for annual check-ups now.  Something that I hope has helped in this department is her sister.  Today Miss A had a minor surgery done, and Miss M came to the hospital for the entire day to be there for her sister.  Miss A was the definition of brave, with not one tear, not one complaint, and such co-operation for the nurses and doctors.  Miss M observed her sister and how the staff at the hospital cared for her all day, and by the end of the day she was begging to wear 'hospital pajamas' too.  Then they came home and played doctor all afternoon. 

It's fascinating to me how my girls balance each other out, and I know they each have their own strengths that they'll share with one another.  I haven't done any reading yet on dealing with fears in preschoolers, but I think I'm developing my own theory as we go along.  I think more important than helping them to face their fears is to help my children feel safe, secure, and confident first. 

The Sounds of Music

Oh, how I love our music class.  I don't know if I can even capture it in words, but I'll try.

I grew up surrounded by music.  My mom is a music teacher, and from the time I was about 3 years old our living room was her music studio.  I took piano lessons for several years, albeit reluctantly.  At the time I resented it, but now of course I'm very thankful that I wasn't given the option to quit.  Seeing how my mother built a very successful career for herself over the last thirty-some years, I can see why it was important to her that I pursue an education in music.  I've heard her speech many times to parents considering pulling their kids from lessons, citing the many proven benefits that kids gain from music education: improved mathematical skills, better hand-eye coordination, etc. And of course, that their kids likely won't be doing karate or gymnastics when they're 70 years old, but playing the piano, most definitely.

My girls were in their first music class at 6 weeks old.  Grandma had a bit of influence there, as you may imagine, and she was with us at every class.  We took a brief hiatus after that, I'm not sure why... perhaps the maternity-leave budget, perhaps exhaustion, but I think it was because when they were that little I felt a little intimidated going to classes without an extra set of hands to help, and those weren't always available.  Anyways, we returned to music classes at nine months old, and we haven't stopped since.  The learning that takes place - at our classes, or as a direct result of our classes - blows my mind.  I remember the first moment I saw it clearly... Miss A was about 10 months old, and as we put her toothbrush away she sang two notes, 'bom, bom', which we regularly sing as we put things away (instruments, scarves, etc.) in class.  Without any prompting, our infant made the connection, remembered it, and applied it to another situation.  I was sold.

I'm proud of my girls' appreciation and love of music.  They ask for us to put on music almost every day.  They can sing many songs from beginning to end, in pitch, with the correct rhythm.  And now I hear them composing, making up lyrics of their own, but to a tune we know.  It's fascinating.  I also get to see how my girls are growing and developing in a group setting.  They don't attend a day care or day home, so music class is one of the main venues where they have the opportunity to socialize and to build those skills.  They're fairly shy at the beginning of each semester, staying close to me (attached to me), but as the weeks go on, I see their confidence build.  They venture out on their own more and more, showing off their dance moves, copying our teacher's actions, and singing out loud in our circle. 

Music enriches our lives.  Period.  I could probably leave it at that, but I feel compelled to expand.  Music has entertained us through countless car rides, has brought us out of tantrums, distracted us when we're scared, comforted us when we're sad, calmed us before bed, and brought us endless hours of family fun, singing and dancing together.  Those are the moments you dream of when you dream of being a parent, and music has been such a big part of it for us.  Music is magic, it truly is.

Evolution of a Daddy

Over the past couple of months, I've noticed a distinct change in how my girls talk about and interact with their Daddy.  They've fallen head over heels in love with him.  Don't get me wrong, they've always loved him, but it's beyond that now.  The connection is so strong it's palpable.
For a long time, I would say my girls were "Mommy's girls".  They were.  I was the one who fed them, nurtured them, who cared for them for the majority of their day.  Daddy was definitely involved, because that's the kind of man he is (and with twins, there is no option...caring for two infants is a two person job).  But because I was off of work for one year, the majority of their needs were met by me,  so it's no surprise I was the one they called for in the night, or the one they ran to when they needed consoling.
Now, things have shifted.  I've always said that one of the best things I've done is to return to work.  It was extremely difficult at the time, but the benefits quickly became apparent.  Not only did it give me a break that I needed (which I believe makes me a better parent), it also forced me to hand over some responsibility to my husband.  To let him do things his way, not the way I think is best.  I work weekends once a month, and my husband has an uncanny ability to find kid-friendly events in our city.  For the first year of their lives, I don't know if my husband ever took both girls out by himself.  I don't blame him, it wasn't easy packing two infants around, and I was always with them.  Now, he doesn't hesitate to load two toddlers into the car and head off on any adventure, be it Home Depot or the Zoo.  It's still not easy, but his level of ease and comfort in his Daddy role would make you believe it is.
Now, when I'm working late and Daddy is home, it's 'Date Night with Daddy'. When I'm home, all day long I hear "Where's Daddy?" or "What's Daddy doing?".  When we pull into the garage and my husband's car is there the girls simultaneously cheer "Daddy's home!".  The three of them have their special games, their books, their inside jokes.  I've tried to join in, and sometimes I'm welcome, but other times it's an exclusive club.  It's a bit strange and sad to be on the outside, but I know better than to mess with the father-daughter bonds.  I know we have our own unique bonds too.
As I watch my girls fall deeper in love with their Daddy, I fall deeper in love with him too.  My husband is neat and orderly by nature.  The invasion of toys isn't easy for a lot of people, but especially for people like that.  He's definitely relaxed over the past two years, because he sees beyond the mess of toys to see the life and love our house is full of.  Now I love to see him fall asleep with diapers on his night table and a My Little Pony beside his pillow.  I love to see him putting the girls toy kitchen back in order, only for them to come along and discover it all over again the next day.  I love to see this grown man blow drying his little girl's hair, and fixing their pony tails and hair clips.  I love to see how he dresses them up and takes them out on the town.  I love that my husband's bedtime reading material, formerly GQ magazine, is now a parenting book for dads.  I love to hear him teaching them Spanish, and to see their minds soaking it up.  I love to hear squeals and laughter from the three of them echoing down the stairs while I cook dinner.  I love how they look at him with complete trust in their eyes.  And I love how before anything else, he thinks of them. 
I could go on and on.  We became parents at the same time, but not in the same way.  With time, my husband has evolved into such a wonderful father, and I'm so proud of him.  Becoming a father made an amazing  person that much better.
We love you!