The Wizard of Ahhhs!

Oh, Lincoln.  This kid loves costumes.  He wears one (or two, or three) everyday.  He now wears them to school.  (God bless his teachers!)

Recently, we've been listening to the band Pentatonix and watching their music videos.  One of our favorites is the Wizard of Ahhhs.  Lincoln was immediately dazzled by Todrick Hall's performance as the Wizard, and asked if I could get him a costume "just like that!"  Oh boy.  Take a look at this:



Ok, yes, I let my 2 year olds and my 5 year old watch this stuff.  I am a sucker for singing and dancing, and these people are so incredibly talented.  Lincoln was curious why all the women looked the same, and I explained that Kirstie Maldonado plays all the characters.  She gets to dress up all those different times, and no, she doesn't actually die as the Wicked Witch.  I could see the wheels turning in his head, as he realized what being an actor entails.  Costumes?!  Singing?!  Dancing?!  And the Wizard stole the show in Lincoln's opinion.  Todrick wears an awesome getup, but more elaborate and flashy than the projects I'm used to sewing.  I said if he still wanted a similar costume by next Halloween, we'd put something together.

Once Lincoln gets something into his head, he keeps bringing it up over and over again.  But, I have recently realized that his determination isn't something I need to quell or tone down.  In fact, his devotion to his passions will serve him well in life, and sometimes I need to set aside my low-key "maybe, eventually" attitude and jump right in, matching his "yes!" for life.  But, it's not like I can drop everything in the middle of the week, leaving the twins to fend for themselves, and go hide away in the sewing room for hours.

So, here's what I did.  After mapping it out in my head a little bit, I invited him to search my fabric stash with me to see what we have to work with.  We have little extra cash right now, so I did my best to be thrifty. Luckily, we had some shiny green scraps leftover from a cape.  There was also an ill-fitting black turtleneck that I had thrown in my sewing pile, perfect for cutting a sleeve off.  We spent a Wednesday evening at a couple thrift stores, finding some black and white converse and a vest that I could use to sew the green fabric to.  He got impatient a couple times while I searched the entire clothing section for useful gems, but instead of getting frustrated, I calmly reminded him that this was his project.  I would gladly stop looking and go home if he was ready to quit.  "No, no, lets keep going!" Letting his interests take the lead really works!

It was very hard for him to understand that we weren't going to sew it all together as soon as we got home.  It was dinner and bath time, and then preschool in the morning, etc., so after checking with Tyler, I told Lincoln that we would devote Saturday to his costume project.  One way or another, we'd end that day with a finished product.  Even though he had to wait several days, it helped him to know it was firmly scheduled.  He left school Friday afternoon announcing to everyone, "Tomorrow is Wizard day!"

Saturday morning we dove right in, and we did spend the full 4 hours I had planned.  Lincoln helped pin, measure, and guide the fabric into the sewing machine.  I can't imagine, if I had wanted to teach Lincoln to sew, and devised some lesson plans, that he would ever focus for such a length of time.  Self-motivation is by far the best teacher, and how cool that his is built in!

If sewing for hours with a 5 year old is hard work, then I was amply rewarded with a front row seat to the countless performances that followed.  Lincoln had absolutely no input or direction from anyone but himself, and he had a blast watching himself dance!  Here are a couple of my favorites: watch either one!

I love Lincoln's joy of performing, and how comfortable he is being himself wherever he goes. 

During the Costco trip pictured above, I noticed a really cool leather bound copy of the Wizard of Oz, and asked my own little wizard if he wanted me to read it to him.  We're 5 chapters in already, and I'm so excited that he is old enough to enjoy chapter books at bed time.  Oh, the adventures we have ahead of us!

The planning and execution of this little project went beautifully, and Lincoln was so ecstatic with the results that he wants to start another costume.  Tyler and I told him once a month.  Next month, he wants to be Buzz Lightyear.  After that, the Onceler from the Lorax.  We'll see how many times he changes his mind between now and then!  

Why I Love Having Twins

They remind me everyday that each of us is unique.  Born within minutes of one another, raised at the same time by the same parents, my two year olds are incredibly different from one another and have been since they were womb-mates.  Hazel is whimsical and light, Ezra is solid and physical.  She likes to meet people and try new things, he likes to step back and observe until he understands and feels comfortable.  It makes sense that Hazel was Baby A (the twin closest to the exit in utero) at every ultrasound.

I love pondering the nature v. nurture debate.  I have to wonder if Aristotle or John Locke, two proponents of tabula rasa or the blank slate philosophy, ever actually met two newborns at once.  It's obvious we're wired to some extent.  But, of course, our personalities are by no means developed at the onset, as personality is built over time through our experiences and environment.

When did you become yourself?
When you were born?
When you discovered your passion?
When you matured enough to understand yourself?
All of the above?
Between genetics, social construction, and personality traits, do we even have a say in who we really are?

I'm currently reading The Child Whisperer by Carol Tuttle, and I've never found a better resolution to the issue.  She suggests that we are born with an innate nature, an energy that characterizes us, which we can choose to honor or not, but which will always be there to access.  This is separate from personality and genetics.  It is not a label or a limitation, but a truly positive and illuminating distinction between each of us.  I appreciate the language Tuttle uses to describe each energy type: none are worse than the others, simply unique, and thus should be handled, directed and nurtured in unique ways.  It turns out that out of the 4 main energy types, I have 3 children who each embody a separate type.  It makes sense that each responds differently to the same parenting tactics.

I am grateful for the strong individuals I have been blessed with.  I am grateful that they need different things from me.  How perfect that Hazel is content to dance and sing around the room, assured of my love for her while I watch and smile, so that I have my arms free to cuddle Ezra, who is assured of my love for him through physical contact.  If we all speak our own love languages, then parents of multiples learn to be bilingual at the very least.

They complete our family.  I have to admit that twins are a challenge.  I entered into parenthood relatively confident about my ability to care for children, and eager to do so.  The truth about having two at once, plus my firstborn, is that I have been stretched, in every sense of the word.

My nurturing capacity is fully satisfied, my desire for challenge sufficiently met, my lingering baby hunger: nil.  It's a great feeling to know that my family is complete, without any whispering desires for another addition.  It's one "what if" that no one is asking, which means we can fully focus on the beautiful souls we have brought to this earth, getting to know each of them, supporting and sharing their life experiences.  I imagine that, had I given birth to a singleton after Lincoln, and we only had two children, both my husband and I would occasionally wonder about having a third.  Most likely, I would have ended up with three children anyway, but this way I only had to be pregnant twice.  Score!  It's not that we wouldn't consider welcoming a child into our home who needed it in the future, but I certainly won't ever plan on getting pregnant again.

They have taught me to love my body.  The havoc wreaked on my tummy skin by a twin pregnancy has truly been an eye opener.  I have always viewed my slender waist as my most fortunate and attractive feature.  Initially, I was quite devastated that not only is my midriff covered in stretch marks, but the skin itself is so stretched that it hangs in subtle folds from my navel to pelvis.  Not so attractive anymore!  But, you know what?  I've been forced to broaden my perception of my own body.  I am not a jewel in a case, waiting to be appraised for perfection.  What I look like matters much less than what I am capable of, which, by the way, includes growing TWO fetuses simultaneously.

My body is an incredible instrument, which I am blessed to use as I navigate through life.  As of this writing, I can run, play, digest and stretch without too much complaining from my stomach.  And if I ever forget that my skin is a living organ, not inorganic plastic, if I get shallow and juvenile, wallowing in self pity, I simply imagine my daughter in this same situation.  What would I hope she feels, thinks, acknowledges?  I pray she wouldn't waste time or energy in embarrassment over a natural change in her body.  I hope she would honor herself.  And then it's easier for me to do so.

I'll be forever grateful to the twins for helping me reach this transformation.

They have each other.  (Here's the best one.  So much cuteness I could have you watching videos and looking at photos for days.)  

When I was still carting Hazel and Ezra around in their infant car seats, it was more obvious that I have twins, and so people would often stop to comment in the grocery store.  (Which was really the only public place I mustered energy to frequent, as it was a necessary outing.)  Newer to the whole multiples thing, I was also on the lookout for other parents with twins, if only to give them hugs.  Every mom or dad with twins older than mine would inevitably say at some point, even if I hadn't admitted to any troubles, "It gets easier."  I wondered at the motivation behind and the validity of this statement.  Now that I have twin toddlers, I understand completely, and would say the same thing to any harried, puffy, and scrambled looking individual touting around multiple infants.  It's just the simplest way to say the absolute truth.  

Someone also told me once that she wishes all her children had a twin.  Considering she had eight kids, I questioned the sanity of her statement, but now I get it.

Once a baby grows aware of its surroundings, starts to interact, and then masters the challenges of mobility, he's ready for some playmates.  Hazel and Ezra happen to have one at hand, all the time.  I cleaned all three bathrooms the other day while Lincoln was at preschool and I just had the twins, and not once did somebody whine for a snack, ask when I'll be done, or complain of boredom.  Instead, footsteps pounded happily throughout the whole house.  

I overheard conversations like, "Hey, Ezra, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just tired."
"Oh.  You want to rest?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
.....
"Mission accomplished, Ezra?"

And,
"Where's Mommy?"
"I don't know, want to see?"
"Yeah, lets go!"
"Okay, fast!"
"Yeah, run fast!  Fly!"

When things got quiet, I peeked out of the master bath, and I saw them lying on my bed, forehead to forehead, thumbs in their mouths, Hazel's hand on Ezra's shoulder, murmuring gently, "It's okay, Ezra.  Everything is okay."  The next moment they were jumping, hand in hand:



They ride color coordinated bikes together,

test out Costco couches together,

 and hold hands in the peaceful moments.

I mean, seriously, how could you not love having twins?

"They're so fun together!"

My Little Chef

Lincoln has always loved helping in the kitchen.  No matter what the final product, he wants to be involved in the process.  Mixing pancake batter, peeling veggies, measuring ingredients, cracking eggs; he's up for anything.  He fell in love with a cooking show back in Massachusetts, and was sad when it went off the air.

With his charming personality, I think he'd make an excellent cooking show host himself.  The other night, he decided to mix hummus with salsa, and called the result "Magrado."  He asked that I take a video of him, and post it on facebook.  It'll make it there via this blog, so here you go:

Garlic and Onions

It's only a week into 2014, and already we've had ups and downs this year.  January 1st was magnificent.  One of those easygoing, happy family days where everyone is in a good mood.  We took a long walk which included some grocery shopping.  I love that the twins are old enough now that strollers, carts, etc are not always necessary, and sometimes even inconvenient.  They are perfectly capable of walking a few blocks, hopping through the snow, carrying an item or two.  I love that I have a crowd with me: of talking, laughing (sometimes crying), thinking people.

 (Can you tell I'm so relieved to say goodbye to infancy?!)  We are definitely in a sweet stage.  The kiddos are happy to play with each other, haven't yet adopted attitudes about who's cool or not, and still love to cuddle and occasionally take naps.  At the store, we bought a spiraled ham and Hazel picked out a package of dried beans off the shelf.  Before putting it back, I realized it was a soup mix that would go great with leftover ham.  Tada!  Two meals down!

Well, I made the soup for dinner the 2nd day of January.  Loved it.  Until an hour later when the smell of the garlic and onions I had sauteed really started to get to me.  January 3rd began with nausea and a weakness that, I'm telling you, felt like I was pregnant with... triplets.  Remember what I said about getting out of infancy?  Yeah, lets keep it that way!  I'm definitely not pregnant, but I couldn't figure out what was wrong.  I still felt like the whole house reeked with garlic and onions from last night.  When I was pregnant with the twins, garlic was one of the smells I absolutely abhorred.  It has occasionally gotten to me since.  But this was an extreme reaction, which knocked the wind from my sails, and everything else out both ends.  

I spent the day barely upright, only attempting to keep the kids clean or fed.  Luckily Tyler works from home and was able to step in a lot throughout the day.  Of course, that meant he worked late into the night after the kids were asleep, while I laid in bed and watched a movie.  I love him.  

I knew as soon as I opened my eyes the next morning, I was in the clear.  I felt 90% better, which meant I could eat, walk, play, get dressed, and attend to the family as usual.  Good thing too, because this crew just can't handle an invalid mommy!  Lincoln kept looking at me and asking, "What's wrong?!  Why are you all.... tired and stuff?  Your smile is a line, and it's wobbly."  Ha!  My wobble turned upward at that, even if for only a second.  He's a poet in the making.  

Since moving to Heber, I've been running regularly.  This town feels safe.  The traffic is slow, the roads are quiet, and the scenery is breathtaking.  I love running in the cold, when the only other faces I see are behind windows of idling cars at the drive-thru or a stoplight.  I know I look crazy, bundled in gloves and a balaclava, leaping gingerly over patches of ice.  I am also not a graceful or fast runner.  But I'm old enough not to care now, because I'm running for no one else but me.  Right now, running feels good.  I feel the most me, more than when I'm doing anything else.  I wonder what a brain scan would like for me while running.  Whatever parts of it are activated, or whatever hormonal cocktail I've got pumping, is the formula I'd like to replicate every other living moment of the day.  Wouldn't it be great to be less anxious, more peaceful and clear-headed and satisfied.  

My guess is that we all choose our hobbies because of the way they make us feel.  As my kids get older and go to school, I hope I fill up the void with more things that make me feel like me.  I probably won't be sautéing garlic and onions very frequently, I'll tell you that!

Homeless, hardly

While we were living with my parents, we had lots of fun even though we were stressed.  We were loved and well taken care of, and the fact is that the future is always unknown.... it's just that the unknown was a little too overwhelming sometimes.

We played outside a lot, at first, when the weather was warm.  Hazel's skin had an introductory period during which she broke out into hives from the Utah grass.  Luckily she got over that.

We hung out with my brother when he wasn't busy working.  

 And the kids got lots of Grandma and Grandpa time.  

My dad kept all the kids in continual supply of Hotwheels.

My mom kept us all in continual supply of delicious, nourishing food.

                               Everyone begged Dad to make popcorn every night. 

I visited friends.  I was able to meet up with Lana before and after she gave birth to her first child.   

 

 At Lizzy's house, I harvested some kale with my brother.  

And, although not pictured, I was grateful to run into an old high school friend and schedule a few playdates with her and her kids.  Thanks Lydia, for the date night, too!

I enjoyed the Weber River Parkway in Riverdale, a lot.  I love paved paths away from traffic.  My kids can go pretty crazy with their bikes, and I attempted to run alongside sometimes.

We cheered on Tyler's Dad after finishing a 50 mile race.  Crazy awesome.

My mom whipped up a new bedding set for the crib that has been in our family since she was little.  Hazel puts her baby to bed every night.

My parents' neighbors did something really amazing and kind.  They gave us complete access to their backyard, which has a trampoline.  Any time, any day, we could just open their back gate and jump around.  And we did, pretty much everyday that the weather was good.  What a life saver!

I am grateful we have loving family and friends to help us out when we need it.