Castles in the Sand!

Every castle wants to house a Princess. Particularly, they dream of being home to a lonely princess protected by a fire-breathing dragon. Only to have her rescued by the Prince of all Charming. What castle wouldn't dream of that?

I have built a thousand castles today.  None with such a fairy tale future. I've Dumped bucket full of packed sand after bucket full of packed sand. Building an entire fortress? Not a chance. It seems it is every two year olds rite of passage to stomp on said castle even before the bucket has fully cleared. And so, I've packed the sand, banged on the bucket, flattened the land, flipped the bucket, tapped tapped tapped, and lifted only for the castle's inevitable fate of Turner's stomp!

Either this, or he crushes the bucket mounds castles of his brothers, much to their dismay.  Turner did seem to get a kick out of that, but the referee in me had enough of the screaming!

No princesses here, definitely no dragons (though this story does have a trifecta of charming prince's) just a castle in the sand destined to be crushed!!!

No Costume is Complete without the Shoes!

Ryder is imaginative. I have mentioned that. Since he has been two and a half years old he has spent the majority of his free time in costume. First, it was costumes of Halloween's Past but it quickly evolved into a much more serious and committed quest for becoming a character. It began with Benny from the movie Sandlot which had him insisting he needed a pair of black Chuck Taylors to complete the outfit. Then he moved on to the Peter Parker/Spiderman combination. When we bought him both the red and the black Spidey costumes I hadn't realized that even though I bought the gloves, as a separarte purchase, I was still giving him an incomplete gift. "Where are the boots Mommy? Spiderman has boots?" As a result I was out buying red socks every time I saw an apple-y pair. He said, "they will do!"
In the recent past he has moved on to Spiderman/Clark Kent giving him an extra excuse (not that he needs one) to wear his shirt, tie, and vest regularly!

 
We got him a Superman costume (which he wore last Halloween) and it once again came boot free!

Why o Why can't they sell all parts of the costume together?

Anyway, the same red socks he wore for Spidey worked for the Man of Steel, "I guess they will do" but he never stopped wanting the Superman boots.
Until one day he got them!
I got the boys Keen sandals for camp. Ryder got red for the third year in a row. Chase wanted green for the same number of years. When they didn't have green he almost got a turquoise color that would have people certainly questioning his future manliness. I was able to talk him out of this "gender neutral" color with the promise of ordering him the green he wanted when we got home.

So I did. From Zappo's.

I was quite impressed when the shoes showed up the very next day! Inside each of the shoes was a cardboard foot. I didn't think twice about these perfectly-sized pieces of cardboard and was about to throw them out when Ryder's eyes popped out of his head and rolled across the floor. "My boots!" He shouted and scooped the shoe insides right from my hands and ran off to be sneaky as he does.
I followed him, intrigued by his excitement.

"Whacha doing, Ry?"
Excitedly, so much so, his words were running into one, he responded, "thesecanbemybootsmommy! Ijusthavetocutthisoffhere," pointing to the back, "thenpaintthemred!".
I understood what he was saying despite his forgetting to breathe.
He grabbed the scissors and cut out around the ankle. Then ran to get his paints. He painted them red.
I watched in amazement as he created his boots from his own mind.
When they were done drying he placed them over his foot, happily. Until he noticed they wouldn't stay in place.
A lightbulb went off in his little head.
"Mommy, we need tape. If we put tape across the bottom and across the back they will stay in place. Where's the tape?"
Continuing to be amazed by his thought process I offered my first piece of consultation on his project.
"What if, instead of tape, we use elastic so that you can re-use them again and again?"
He looked at me. "What's elastic?"
I told him, showed him, in fact, by the band on his shorts.
"YES! " He shouted with a Tiger Woods type fist pump. "Do we have any?". We didn't but Mom-Mom Joan, thrilled by his creativity, was able to provide us with some within 24 hours.
And so, Ryder now has Superman boots of his very own. Created for him, by him. Because they are cardboard, they won't last nearly as long as the passionate boys love for the world's greatest superhero but maybe he is on to something.

Painting the shoes

Letting them dry

Side view

He cut out the back

Since all of the Power Rangers costumes he wants are out of stock maybe he will create his own?
And, if you need a pair of Red or Green Keen hand me downs sized in US9, 10, or 11, we got them!!!

Let me Tell you Sumpin.....I Love you!

Turner was over 16 months old when he started talking.  Even then it was an inconsistent scattering of words that left us guessing what he was saying.  Despite thinking he would be an early talker after his miraculous first word at 9 months, by 14 months we knew we were quite mistaken.  According to my yard stick, which the measurements were previously set by his brothers, Turner was a late talker.  Surprisingly, he was not too far behind his peers.  By the time he was 2, it was hard to realize he had just started talking as he spoke, A LOT, always looking you right in the eye.  Now, not even two and a half, he speaks perfectly clear.  Well, almost  He talks often and loudly and it is easy to forget that he communicated with grunts and points for longer than tolerable.
But, despite his mature vocabulary, he has a few mispronunciations that in addition to reminding me he still wears diaper, are just so adorable.

For one, he pronounces the "J" sound as "G".
We frequent the Gim!  Mom-Mom's are Gill and Goan.  His best buddy is Gagher.  Oren's daddy is Geff.  And, my personal favorite, Delaney and Madden's daddy is Uncle Gay.  I don't correct him.  Is that wrong?

I love these mis-sayings.

He says Sumpin, not something
He calls a yogurt smoothie, one of his favorite things to drink, something I am unable to even write down.

And, no matter how much I told him, no matter how many times a day he heard the words I love you, he would never repeat them.  Not ever.  I got upset about it, all too often.  Again using the unfair measuring stick of Chase and Ryder, who said I love you at 21 months, I was a little bothered.  I wasn't concerned that he couldn't say it, I just wanted to hear it.  Are there really any better words to hear from your kid?

Turner does things at his own pace.  He doesn't like feeling pressured to do anything so I backed off for a bit.  Then one day, he said it.  I am not exactly sure of when.  I am not quite sure it matters because now when I say "Turner, I love you!"  He follows up with an "I love you, too!"

Turner, I love you!!

I'm thinking...Mojitos...with Muddled Fresh Mint all Summer!

I've said, on occasion, that I wish I lived on a farm, ate from my crops and lived a simple life. Entertainment would be hikes, and swims, and time in a boat. It is comments like these that make my mom say "who the hell raised you?"

Although I do mean it when I say, it I know it will likely not happen. I would be lying if I said I didn't love city life, too.

But, for a long time now I have been wanting to start a vegetable garden. A mere compromise of my extreme lifestyle desires.  Since I have a bit of a black thumb and very little free time, the idea of a garden seemed most ideal in my head. In my head my veggies were fresh, my salads were tasty, and my herbs were fragrant.

Then I met a friend who's Nebraska farm upbringing makes her a bit of a know-how when it comes to gardening. She offered her assistance and her knowledge.  I offered my credit card and my husbands brawn.  And, 6 hours later we have a 6' x 6' vegetable garden in our backyard.

Todd was happy I bought arugula plants for him (I don't love it) since we did make him dig up our fresh and beautiful grass with nothing but a pointed shovel.  I also bought three different types of tomatoes, 4 different types of peppers, romaine, broccoli, strawberries, zucchini, snap peas, green beans, and a bunch of herbs, amongst them, mint.

I bought this mint for no other reason but one sniff of the fragrance and in my mind's eye I was drinking mojitos with muddled fresh mint (ALL SUMMER LONG) and I was ready to leave the nursery for the state store to purchase a case of Bacardi.  I didn't.  Instead I stayed focused on the task at hand.

The garden is planted.  It rained, consistently, for ten straight days afterwards so I am just now needing to start the daily hose down.  Let's see if my black thumb can at least change purple on its way to being green.

As of this posting the herbs are doing fantastic, and are ready for mojito making.  Or, mint juleps.   The arugula is in critical condition and I am hoping it didn't take offense by my earlier, I DON'T LOVE IT comment, and one of the romaines may have died before it even got started.  But...so far, so good.   Harvest is in several weeks, and we will be serving up some fine veggies.  And, mojito's, of course!

GEE instead of JAY

At two and a half years old Turner speaks as many toddlers do.  Some words are clear and articulate and others are totally butchered.  Such as anything with the letter J.  Both of his mom-mom's, to of his uncles, one of his favorite activities, and his best buddy are all humorously butchered as followed:

Mom-Mom Goan
Mom-Mom Gill
Uncle Gay (my favorite)
The Gim
and his best buddy Gagher.

I Deserve a Cash Bonus!

There are very many accomplished people in this world. Doctors, Lawyers, CEO's, Published writers, inventors...I could go on. I have friends, I have family, all who are very accomplished. I find it admirable, respectable, enviable even. Sometimes I wish my resumé was, well, I wish I even had a resumé.

I have set my bar much lower. Especially these days. I was never much of pole vaulter, nor much of a flexible limbo-er, so I have set my bar at a level that I can crawl under, or more like slither like a snake, and clear it without touching.

Monday I had a very accomplished day. I say this proudly knowing that WOHM's, executives, people with an actual job, may laugh at me.  I hear their snicker.

Monday, with one kid home sick and a toddler on the loose. I did 7 loads of laundry and put 4 of them away in proper drawers and closets. Let me repeat that. I DID 7 LOADS OF LAUNDRY.  Sorry, had my day ended there I would have felt accomplished.  But, believe it or not, it did not end there.  Instead, I made 2 very important phone calls, and dosed out medicine, accurately, every four hours.
What happens when Benadryl is more expired than my children are old?  This is what I wondered on my PhD earning day as I Cleaned out our medicine cabinet (and made a huge trash bag,) got dinner prepared, ordered Chase's shoes, and even played with my sons.

Seriously, this was a monumental day. I did all of that and my house was still standing at the days end. I never even dropped anything or misplaced anything nor did I ask my kids to fend for themselves while playing in traffic.

 I deserve some sort of reward. A cash bonus, perhaps!

A Politician, A Rock Star, and a Mother Weak for her Boys.

Last week we had parent/teacher conferences at the boys school.  For some reason, standing outside of the closed door waiting my turn almost felt as if I was heading into the Principal's office.   There were no surprises about what I would come to hear, yet for some reason I felt a bit nervous.  Turner's conference went as I posted here.

Chase and Ryder's conference was interesting.  As they are finishing up their Pre-K year and getting ready to head out into the real world of Public School I sometimes, OK maybe a bit more often than that, get nervous.  Since they day I gave birth to boys with Summer birthdays I have been asked the question of "Will I hold them back?"   At first I was unsure to what all of these nosy and inquiring minds were referring.  As I had mentioned, people seemed to ask me, a new mom to twins, some really absurd and personal questions.  Hold them back as they started to crawl?  Push them down when they started to walk?  Had I known then that Ryder would climb walls and dart through parking lots maybe I would have held them back on such obvious milestones.  But, it seemed, they wanted to know if I would hold them back in school.   I was just hoping to get them off of formula first, perhaps get them out of diapers, before I started thinking about kindergarten cut-offs.  But, really, the world thought I should I start thinking about these things.
So, with the peanut gallery constantly whispering in my ear, and the apparent new trend of red shirting kindergarten making headlines (and here, and here), the question began to sink in.  And, there I was, ignoring the obvious signs of readiness, and instead debating the smaller things.  They are really little.  And, it would make a huge difference in sports.  And, they were premature, you know?  Besides, are they ready for such a big school, such a big world?  They are little, Jewish boys, heading into the Non-Jewish world.  Will their charm take them anywhere?  This is all crap.  I know that.  I am only half crazy.  The other half tells me that every five year old boy and girl sets out to the world of Kindergarten.  They all survive.  Even if they don't like it.

Of course, Chase and Ryder will do more than survive.  They are ready for the big school.  They are mature beyond their young age, and despite being nearly 9 months younger than some of their classmates, most of the time you can not tell. Academically, socially, emotionally, they are ready!   I guess the big question is, am I?

So, I set into Miss Liz's classroom and this is what I was told:

She likes to call Chase the Mayor.  She is convinced he has a future in Politics.  Or Negotiating.  Or both.  He is a "person of the people" who will greet each and every one of them, make sure they are all happy, speak for them when (and even if not) necessary, and will make his rounds to everyone in the classroom.   He does this at parties, too.  Actually, he does this everywhere. He gets this trait from Todd.

He showed a good amount of improvement in almost all areas being assessed.  Chase listens intently and has astounding recall, for both concepts and details.  He loves the game hangman (and is pretty good,) does really well with rhyming, knows all of his letters, their sounds, and can name a word that starts with each letter, and can also count to 100.

There are some areas he continues to need development in, in addition to some gross motor skills, such as accepting constructive criticism, not always being the center of attention, and tattling.  None of this came as a surprise.

That aside, Chase always has a smile, a laugh, and a hug to offer.  He is well-liked and likes everybody, though he does seem to play more with the boys.  He is eager, loves to share his knowledge, and above all else he is driven and determined like she has never seen in an almost five year old little boy.   Miss Liz believes that Chase will be successful in life not because he is smart (which he is) or charming (which he is, as well) but because he needs to be the best, he needs to be number one, he doesn't like losing.  Although I was aware he was competitive, I was a bit surprised to hear that it was to this degree.   Admirable, perhaps, but it sounds a bit stressful.  Clearly, he did not get the trait from me.  He must get that from Todd, as well.  Or my dad.  Or Todd's dad.   I never liked being number one.  Not because I couldn't or because I didn't want to try that hard but because number one meant a whole lot of attention.  I was not interested in attention.  At all.  The more I write this the more I realize that maybe Chase is not my son.

Ryder is a different boy, totally.  One of the things I was most happy about Miss Liz as a teacher was that right from the very beginning she knew the differences in the boys and never expected them to be the same.  She knows them, she understands them, and for that I am so grateful.

She describes Ryder as the handsome boy, leather clad on a motorcycle.  Untouchable yet desirable.  Mysterious yet so sweet.  A budding rock star and poet.  Though this description is accurate it makes me a bit uncomfortable.   She described the guys I crushed all of growing up.  Sorry, I just threw up in my mouth there.

Ryder is a free-spirit who is independent and not influenced to conform.  He is creative, and imaginative, and thoughtful, and deep.  He is well-liked and likes everyone but tends to form strong, deep, friendships and show a favoritism to those friends.  He enjoys the company of boys, and particularly those that share his interests.  He sounds a lot like me!  He laughs, he smiles, he is kind, and though rambunctious, he is also sensitive and caring.

He did show improvement in most areas evaluated since the assessment in the Fall.  He knew all of his letters, completed all of his rhymes, and also has pretty good recall, when he wants to.  Surprisingly, he could not count to 100, which both Miss Liz and I believe he can (know he can) but figure he may have lost focus along the way.  He has a tendency to do that.  Did I mention he reminds me of, well, me?

He has very well developed fine motor skills, and is an agile and flexible boy.  He has beautiful handwriting, and enjoys it, always wanting to write everything.  He loves art, and seems to have a developing talent.  He is passionate and faithful and loyal and yet, still, easy going enough to mix in with anyone.  He loves to laugh and to smile and a karate chop to the head is often a sign of love.

He could use continued improvement in the areas of listening to what he is being told, focusing, and making choices that don't just benefit him, but the class as a whole.  Unlike his driven brother, Ryder doesn't get bothered by being less than the best.  He likes to do the best he can, for him, not for anyone else.  He has talents and he uses them but not for the purposes of recognition.  He is much less interested in that sort of attention.  Yes, it turns out, Ryder is clearly my son.

Overall, it has been a great year for both kids.   We believe they will both benefit, even if at first they struggle, by being separated at school, where they can hone in on their individuality without the pressure of the other one.   I know that they will always have their special bond and being a twin will always be a huge part of who they are, but they could each use a chance to be one without the other, at least during the school day.

Miss Liz believes they are both ready for Kindergarten and despite their being a late birthday or smaller than the average boy, they will fit in exactly where they belong.  So, to answer the question of all those nosy strangers, red may be Ryder's favorite color but this is one red-shirt he won't be wearing.  "NO!  WE WILL NOT BE HOLDING THEM BACK IN SCHOOL!"

There is about three weeks left in the school year, at the safe haven of a Jewish Pre-school where the teachers and students alike find them funny, and adorable, and smart.  I will spend the summer preparing MYSELF for my little guys to ride on a great big bus, in a great big school, surrounded by great big kids.   Lucky for me, or for them, I am sure they can handle themselves with those bigger kids because this mama is not sure she ca.   Mistreat my boys and those silly bands you wear on your wrist will become a weapon which I will use against you.  Oh, I will.   I am weak for these boys.

Hot For Teacher!

I've mentioned (here) that Turner started school back in January. He loves it.  He has from day one. He goes without hesitation, he asks each morning if it is a "Barbara's house" day.  He comes home happy, tired, and singing the songs.  I am not sure if it is because of school, because of his age, or both, but since January he has matured considerably, often times reminding me he is no longer a baby.

I haven't mentioned it much here but Turner is a big talker.  He talks in full sentences, and has just so much to say.  He is very specific in his choice of words and can be, at times, demanding.  He commands your attention by both the look in his eye and, when necessary, by grabbing your chin and pulling it towards him.  He is not much of a parrot, one who repeats what you say, in fact he prefers not to be told what to say nor when to say it.  Instead, he speaks his mind, his thoughts.  He sings a variety of songs all day long, asks for what he wants, and when necessary, he makes sure his voice is heard.

With this being said, however, it should be known he also has a tendency to get shy.  Around women.  A pretty girl is a reason for him to close his mouth, and throw on the charm.  Batted eyelashes, flashed dimples, puppy dog eyes, and a contagious smile all replace his extensive vocabulary when a lady is near.  We used to think it was just one girl, (who he definitely still crushes,) but we are finding that Turner becomes quite coy in front of most ladies.  Most pretty ladies. Aunt Amy is a lady.  Kate's mom is a lady.  Aunt Carri is a lady. And, it seems, Miss Barbara is a lady.  Because, he may love school.  And, he may love to talk but he has yet to talk to Miss Barbara.  He charms her, like he does other girls, but he won't talk.

Yesterday, we had his school conference. This is what we learned about our boy:
He is charming.  He has a fantastic smile.  He is friendly, and personable, and loves art and cooking.  He has well-developed gross and fine motor skills and is a cooperative and well-behaved little boy. He can build with blocks at least 5 high, and much to my surprise, he doesn't dump.  Containers.  This is not the case at home, but at least he caters to Miss Barbara's self-proclaimed OCD.   She didn't assess it, but Turner has a bit of that as well.

Climbing high without assistance

He is the one to watch on the playground because he can climb any structure (as seen in this picture,) he can climb the stairs without assistance, one step at a time.  He can do puzzles, hold the pencil the right way, and, in learning something new about Turner, he seems to have a strong sense of compassion for the other kids in his class.  This does make me proud.   Does Turner know his colors?  His shapes?  His letters?  That was unable to be assessed because when Miss Barbara asked he grinned and laughed quietly, and made her do so as well, but there was no way he was answering those questions.

I asked his teacher if we should be concerned (though my gut knew we should not be!)  I asked if she thought he had selective mutism, which I would not even think was a real thing if I did not know a child with that diagnosis.  She answered, as I expected, "of course not!"  She has heard him talk, just not to her.  He talks to his peers, he talks (a little) to the other teachers, he talks within the school building.  He just does not talk to Miss Barbara.

Todd and I decided to talk to Turner about this.   We reminded him how much she loved him, how much he loved school.  We asked him why he does not talk to Miss Barbara and, smiling, he said "'cause!"  We told him we really wanted him to talk to her that it would make her, and us, so happy.  Then we dropped it for a bit.

A while later, and seemingly out of nowhere, Turner said (loudly, I may add) "mama, I talk to Miss Barbara!"
Surprised I responded, "You will, Turner?"
Grinning and happy he said, "yes!"
I asked, "Turner, what will you say to her?"
Grinning more, he paused and then said, "Hi, you are pretty!!"

I don't think Van Halen had toddlers in mind when they wrote Hot For Teacher!  

You Should see the Other Guy!!

When I was twelve years old I played Maccabi softball.   I was one of two girls on the boys team and the tournament was held in Chicago.   I stayed with a host family, who I hardly remember, except that they lived in the same neighborhood as Michael Jordan.  Yes, we stalked his house.   

My sister (the other girl on the team!) stayed in the house where Risky Business was filmed.  Just knowing that Tom Cruise danced in his underwear in the same house she slept in was way cooler than being near Michael Jordan.  No offense, Mike.  Most of the world wanted to be like you.

Anyway, the room I stayed in, in this mostly unmemorable home, had beds in an L shape.  Between them was a table.   This was the exact configuration both my bedroom and my sons' bedroom would have in the future despite the rest of this story.  

So, I was soundly sleeping in this suburban Chicago home when my alarm went off so I could catch the bus to that days games.  I got out of bed, went to the bathroom to wash my face, and nearly scared the shit out of myself when I looked in the mirror.  I had an eye, swollen shut, the color of prunes and raisins.  I was not sure how it happened nor why I looked like I had stepped into a boxing ring.  After further examination, it became clear to me that while I slept I banged my eye on the edge of the table.  At this point in my life I had slept through alarm clocks, my brother's rock-n-roll music, even a hotel fire alarm (which was, thankfully, a false alarm) but I would have thought a bruising thump to my eye would have woken me.  Unless, of course, it knocked me out.  Which was possible.   I never have been quite the same since.  

My sister nearly had a heart attack when she saw me and got her big sister panties in a bunch concerned someone hurt me.  I told her the other guy was laying in a ditch somewhere and there was no need to worry.  We went on with the day, the week, the tournament, as if all was normal.  The purple in my eye only clashed a bit with the royal blue and yellow uniforms.

Fast forward 24 years.   Chase and Ryder's bedroom, as I mentioned, has this exact configuration.  Each day as they act like the very boys that they are and insist on jumping from bed to bed to bean bag, getting their little brother involved, as part of their bedtime ritual I wonder to myself if heads can actually bounce off of that table.   

No, they can't as it turns out.  But, I did not learn this from any unnecessary rough-housing or overly rambunctious boy exercising.   I learned this, as fate would have it, exactly the way I had learned it over two decades ago.   While sleeping soundly in his bed, grinding his teeth and snoring away, Ryder managed to bang his eye directly on the tables edge.   He is very much my son.  Unlike me, however, he did not sleep through this accident, instead he awoke with tears and screams and only a few drips of blood.

The picture above is his eye the next day, as I was dropping him off to school.  Luckily, he did no damage to the eye itself, nor his vision, and the shiner never did get too much worse than pictured.  He did, however, live a few days totally able to fool everyone into thinking that he wore eye make up.  Perhaps some just thought this was part of his "rocking" style.

Map!!

This is Chase and Ryder looking at the map of the zoo when we went over Spring Break.  We were there with 13 other kids.  We separated from half of the group.  In an effort to meet up we needed a map.  Chase and Ryder were pretty sure that they could figure this out.  They did a good job, but most importantly, they worked nicely together.

For more pictures from the Zoo, click here.

Say Aaaah!

Our boys always like going to the doctor. I am not sure why but I sure am not complaining. I remember being a teenager knowing full well I had a shot coming to my ass so I locked my doctor out. Lucky for me my doctor is a bit of a clown, but all the laughing down was drop my guard enough for him to quickly inject my toosh with a 3 inch needle.
My kids don't have this problem. They do well for the pediatrician offering up their arms of steel for any shots necessary. They have allowed my dad to check out their eyes. And, for a reason no one can understand, a trip to the dentist is fist-pump worthy. Chase and Ryder have been like this since their first appointment when they were two. Now, they are experienced in the dental exam arena. They love the video games, the old-school decor (which they do not know is old school) and the fact that Dr. Maser is Ellie's Saba. I can't, and don't, go back for the exam with them and its just as well because they don't want me there.
After, they come running out all shiny white toothed smiles and giggles flaunting their new toothbrush and dental floss. The last time I saw them that happy was when I served brussel sprouts for dinner.
Today was Turner's first appointment. And, though I'd like to say he begged for me to hold him and cried like the baby he is supposed to be, really it was as equally pleasurable experience as his rounds of vaccines, his first haircut, his first day of school, even his bris. Turner continues to be the happy child, able and willing to do whatever is asked of him especially if his brothers are doing it too.
We practiced a bit, in the waiting room, while Chase and Ryder got x-rays done (which ultimately confirmed what we probably already knew.....they will both need braces!).
"Turner, what will you do for Dr. Maser?"
He'd look at me smile and say, open mouthed, "Aaaaaaahhhhh!".
He probably didn't need practice because he was perfect for Dr. Maser. 3 for 3. If he didn't know me personally he would think I was doing something right with these boys;).
I am thinking about using dentist visits as bribes for good behavior.