This is 40, Installment 6

My countdown to turning 40 has been inspirational. Ten years ago, when I first started staying home with my twins, I started writing a novel. TEN. YEARS. While it is not polished and I'm sure will still undergo many edits, it is FINISHED. I finished the ending last weekend. Maybe I cried. When you know characters and their dirty secrets and conflicts and what makes them laugh and love, and what they want in life, for ten years, you get emotionally attached.

Since September this year, I have been working feverishly on finishing the story, with my 40th birthday looming like a sweaty mountain ahead of me. I had to finish writing a book by the time I turn 40. Had to. And I did. I have never been so focused on one thing... maybe forever. It's the closest I've come to feeling like an Olympic athlete. It was almost all I thought about. Sorry, if I was absent from our conversation last time I saw you. Totally living in my book. Major shout out to my husband here... he has been amazing at supporting my writing, well always, but especially the past few months. He basically does everything.

However, my next goal is to send out query letters to literary agents by my birthday (March 17). So last night I sent copies of the manuscript (I feel so naked about this) to a bunch of wonderful humans who have agreed to be my beta readers* and give me feedback ASAP, so I can make edits before I send those letters out to agents. Now I have to write what most writers hate-- my synopsis. So, I'll work on writing that, while sweating profusely about what my beta readers will say, and await my birthday.

To think that I started this entry out thinking I would write about the gradual acceptance and incorporation of Mom jeans... this is better.

And this is 40.

*If you'd like to be a beta reader also...contact me. :)

My unattended kids have stolen my phones and filled it with pics like this. 

What Teddy and I Do All Day

Cal and Clark going to kindergarten means a lot of things, but one of the most important ones is that Teddy and I get a lot of quality time together. Until last week I had no idea how to function with only one child. Seriously. I've never been at home with only one before. It's different than with two or three. Some might say easier, and so far I agree. I only have to feed lunch to one, change the diapers of one, push a single stroller rather than a double stroller, carry one baby up the 35 stairs of our building, etc. I do find myself wishing Teddy had a little twin pal to play with, though. But he'll have to settle for dance parties with my Pandora stations and me for now.

We are settling into our little routine. After we play and I corral the boys to get them into some sort of presentable state, we walk them to school and then sometimes stay outside and keep walking or sometimes come inside to escape oppressive heat. We wave at all the same people on the way to school-- the neighborhood friends and friends-of-a-friend. Today we spent the lovely, cool morning walking to the library and Trader Joe's after dropping the boys off at school. I let Teddy walk around outside for awhile. Some mornings we've had a play date with some other little babies and their moms.

Then after the early morning fun there is nap time for Teddy, which means dishes, laundry, and maybe the beginning of dinner for me. Any phone calls to be made or writing projects to be hacked away at. The cleaning of the bathrooms and the taking out of the garbage and recycling. I turn Pandora on the TV and maybe I jam out while I Windex the sliding glass door. When Teddy wakes up we typically dance to a song I made up for him and then have lunch. He drinks from his bottle with his pinkie up. So cute. Then we have the afternoon. I love to read books with him. He has his favorites and he'll drag them around and hold them up to me to read, while grunting and smiling. He hides things in the cupboards like his firetruck I found by the almonds and the little watering can I found in the mixing bowls. He often pulls out a bag of rice cakes, and pulls it around like a blanket. He clearly misses the boys though, like I do. I find myself wondering what they're doing and Teddy usually goes over and pulls on the door an hour or so before it's time to go pick them up.

Then we do go and pick them up. We say hello to the same people, and we wait at the same doors for the boys to come through. Today I let Teddy get out of the stroller and so when he saw Cal and Clark coming through the doors, he started giggling and ran over to them. They hugged him and I had a mom moment.

The boys are now very much comfortable at school. They yell goodbye to their friends and teachers. Today Clark held up the whole kiss 'n ride line to stick his head in a classmate's car to remind him about the t-ball game tomorrow. They have to run back to high five another buddy.

And then we all come home and the boys finish their lunches or have a different snack while Teddy snacks also and we talk about the day and usually about some sort of hypothetical fighting situations (Who would win, Mom, a lion or a bear? A fork or a spoon if they were alive?). Other topics covered are usually sports, shark teeth and eating habits, food, and whatever make-believe situation they're involved in. Meanwhile, Teddy just revels in having his brothers home. He squeals while they wrestle and claps while they play catch.

The rest of the day is just normal stuff-- we go outside again if possible, eat dinner and hang out with Brian. Lots of wresting and elbows flying. I try to focus on Cal and Clark since I don't get to see them as much as usual. Some piano-practice on the new keyboard we bought for their piano lessons. Some bath time for Teddy, and the boys now shower. That's right. They shower. All Teddy does in the bathtub is stand up, turn on the faucet and tries to drink the water coming out as he squeals manically.

Then Brian and I send the kids to bed and fall asleep watching the Nationals win, cradling our wine glasses and secretly eating goldfish crackers or string cheese from the boys' school lunch stash.

And that is what Teddy and I do all day.

Just another morning before school- space mission under the table

pinkies up!

Who wants to hang out with this guy? Me!

Is it time to go get the boys yet, Mom?

Are you sure?

Well then let's turn the music up.

After school playing with clay: Clark fashions a flying squirrel

Your typical coming-home-from-school scene: boys with sticks.

Doing "push-ups" on the way to school

We found a giant butterfly!

SCHOOL IS OVER AND WE'RE WILD.

It Is Morning

It is 3:30 am in a dark house. A fan blows. A distant wind chime is heard from the sliding door that is opened a crack. A baby whimpers and then starts crying.

A weary mother rises mechanically and plucks the child from his bed. His feathery hair smells like a bath and is sticking straight up on his head. He makes eye contact with his mom through the grey shapes of the house, and he smiles. He squeals happily. The mother smiles back and sighs. She slips down the hall into the living room and sits on the couch with the baby, who bounces on her lap. He wants to play. She tickles him and he giggles.

She hears a soft pad, pad, padding of a sleepy boy's feet as he slowly enters the room-- a silhouette against the living room window.

"Mommy," he croaks.

"What, Calvin? Why are you awake? It's not morning yet."

"My bed woke me up."

"How did it do that?"

"I don't know, it just did. Just all of a sudden. It keeps happening," he explains. "Also my turtle light keeps waking me up."

"Well why did you turn your turtle light on?"

"I don't know. I guess it was too dark."

The little boy snuggles on the couch with his mom and baby brother for a few minutes until she gets up to go nurse the baby.

"I'm going back into my room to nurse Teddy now, Calvin. You need go back to bed too," she says calmly, as she rises and walks down the hall.

A quick intake of breath is followed by two other quick intakes.

"But, but, my bed is waking me up and the light is too bright," the young boy sputters. "Is it morning yet?"

"No, it's not. Turn off your turtle, Cal," she patiently explains again, "and it will be darker."

"But it's too dark when it's off and I can't sleep and my bed wakes me up." The whimpering gets louder.

"I have an idea," the mom says. "Keep the turtle light off and open the door to your room so it will be a little lighter but not too light."

Whimper.

"Ok," he whines painfully, into the night air of the house.

The little boy shuffles into his room and the mom goes to her room and sits down on the glider, having solved the problem. She closes her eyes, breathes a big, long sigh, and begins nursing. Sleep is close.

Shuffle, shuffle, pause. Shuffle, shuffle, pause. Boy feet on carpet.

The mom lifts her eyes to see her other boy in her face.

"Mmmmoooommmyyy?" Sputter, sputter. Whine. "Did you really say we have to sleep with the door all the way open?"

"No. No I did not say that, Clark." Frustration is setting in. Really? 4:00 am and all three boys are awake and two are arguing? The mom rolls her eyes in the dark room. Massages the back of her neck with her unoccupied hand. "If you want you can sleep with it open, but you don't have to."

Sniffle, sniffle. "Okay, Mommy," he quickly leaves, eager to tell his brother he was wrong.

The mom sighs again, stretches her legs all the way to her toes, and nuzzles Baby Teddy's warm little head.

Shuffle, shuffle, pause. The mom lifts her head and sees two swaying heads in the hallway on the other side of the crib. They appear to be deciding if bothering her again is worth it. She pretends to be asleep. They move away from the hall door. Then she hears their little breaths, their tiny whispers, as they look at her from out of the bathroom door this time. Still, she feigns sleep and hopes for the best. Their sounds disappear from the bathroom door and she thinks she has won.

The swaying, bobbing heads again silently appear on the other side of the crib. One boy enters the room. Immediately his is there, in her eyes.

Sniffle, sniffle. Louder this time. His heart is broken.

"Mommmmmm?" he moans.

"What, Cal?"

"Did you really say to Clark that we have to sleep with the door all the way closed? Not even open a crack?" he holds his hands out, palms up, and slouches his shoulders to show his utter despair over the door's possible position. "When will it be morning?"

She wryly smiles to herself at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Kisses Teddy on the head and lays him in his crib. She stretches to the tops of her fingertips.

"No, Cal. I said sleep with the door opened. Or closed, or partway open or partway closed. And no, it is not morning." She gains volume as she walks closer to their bedroom door. Becomes more and more irritated. She grabs the doorknob and illustrates her points, swinging the door open and closed in various stages-- various options of openness that they have. Maybe she does it a little wildly, a little desperately.

"Ok," they murmur, obediently filing into their bedroom, perhaps regretting their decision to rouse their mother again, but happy to know that they are not being forced to do something as abusive as sleep with their door a way contrary to the way they think it should be.

"I don't care how you do it, just go back to sleep," she loudly whispers.

Back in her room, she slips between her cool sheets and snuggles onto her pillow. Deep breath. Closes eyes. Peace.

Suddenly she opens her eyes with a jolt. Clark is standing there. It is light-- 6:30am.

"Mom, just so you know, Dad gave us milk to drink while he takes a shower," Clark explains, as if this makes any sense, as if the sleeping mother needs to know this nugget of information so badly that she needs to be wakened. She is speechless.

"Okay, bye Mom!" Clark is gone, yelling something about Spiderman's webs to Calvin.

The grumpy mother pulls the covers back to her chin.

The baby whimpers and moves in his crib. He squeals. Sunlight pokes her in her eyes through the slanted window blinds. Feet run up and down the hall.

It is morning.

MORNING, MOM!

Bonus Teddy picture

"

"

Really? 4?

My Theodore John is four months old today. It sounds weird to say because it felt like the last three or four months of pregnancy took FOR. EV. ER. And now the last four months have flown past. We're still all head-over-heels in love with this guy, even though Clark today proclaimed that he's cute but he's the cutest when he's asleep.

He is still a chunk, too. He weighs over 15lbs now and most of his clothes are size 9 months! It works out perfectly for seasonal hand-me-down clothes because though the boys were three months older at this time of the year, they were in about the same size clothes.

For more Teddy-monthly-progression in pictures, go here.

The Negotiator

Cal negotiates for more sandbox time

Probably about a year ago I started telling the boys that they had one minute to sit on the floor and “brush” their teeth after I brushed them first. I use quotation marks around the word brush because really it is them loudly sucking the water and toothpaste off the bristles. Now they also like to sign the word water as they sit there in their jammies. Because of this ritual, they developed an idea of how long a minute was.

 A couple months ago they worked that knowledge into a tool for their own use. One day we were outside our building playing after a walk when I announced that it was time to go up the stairs and into our house. Calvin pointed his one finger at me and then into the air and said, “one minute outside.” Of course it was just too cute to do anything but laugh and agree with. Now when I say “one more minute and then we need to go upstairs” Cal doesn’t skip a beat. He either says, “Five minutes.” Or “Three minutes.”  
It has now spilled over into their sharing squabbles. If Clark is on the rocking horse and Cal wants on it he’ll frantically say, “Calvin’s turn, Calvin’s turn!” and if Clark doesn’t respond, Cal will either comfort himself with, “one minute Sharky’s turn” or freak out screaming more about his rights in the third person. If Cal is on the horse and Clark wants on it (which usually involves Clark muscling his way onto the horse) Cal yells, “one minute Calvin’s turn!” Sometimes they can solve these problems on their own, sometimes Brian or I have to get involved.

Clark considers negotiating with Melina for sand toys

After they did this for awhile, Cal naturally created “Running Minute” which is his last ditch attempt at putting off bedtime at night. This is after he has negotiated for an extra minute or four during teeth-brushing time. So now the four of us run around the house chanting “running minute” over and over for roughly a minute and they love it. Then we plop them into bed.

I’m sure Cal’s negotiating skills will only sharpen as he gets older. I have my eye on him.
p.s. Here are two pictures for those of you who complained about no pictures on the last post. A picture of my bathroom...ha!