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Tonight Anya screamed and screamed that she was afraid to go to bed. She wanted to sleep on her floor. We didn't understand. Finally, after talking to her for a long time, she told us there was a monster under the bed. I felt so bad for her. Archie used to sleep under the bed when he wasn't feeling well, so I wonder if this is why she thinks there is a monster under there.
So, we decided to kill the monster. We got a broom and got down on the ground and yelled at the monster that we were going to kill him. And then, like Buffy staking a vampire, we poked him from the foot of the bed. Over and over until he was dead. She was really afraid, so we were really positive about it. Yelling at the monster, telling him he was dead.
Moral of the story: kids don't tell you what they are really worried about. So ask and ask until they do. Then kill the monster. And yell at his corpse.
Just now, Rachel said to me, "Mama, can we make a craft?"
Speaking of which, Crafty Bastards Silver Spring is just 8 days away. And the application for the big Crafty Bastards in DC is now online!
Thanks for the comments on my napping situation. It was good to hear from you!!! Audrey's suggestion was good. I am going to try that today. The girls may laugh at me, but at least I will try.
Anya had a nightmare last night that she was left all alone at her nanna's house. We asked her if anyone was there and she started to cry and said she was all alone. Poor girl. She actually woke me at 5am telling me she needed a paper towel for her crying. I didn't understand that she was having a nightmare.
Off to read a book about bad bunnies.
This past week has been trying. The girls gave up naps nearly a year ago and I feel like they have been saving up all the crankiness to drop in my lap everyday at around 3pm.
I know this means they need to nap. I get this. But getting them to do so has been difficult. Moral of the story is probably don't let your kids give up naps at 2 years old.
The tantrums that attack us at 3pm every day are just so terrible. Screaming and kicking and asking for the same thing over and over. Anya's lasted for nearly two hours yesterday, following us from the Target to the car ride home to home. If it happened at any time other than 3pm, I would worry we were dealing with some kind of disorder or something. But I am realizing that my kids don't know how to handle being tired. They are very busy kids, always doing something, and this means there is so much more that they want to do other than be tired and heaven forbid sleep.
I understand all of this, but it is totally stressful. Can anyone tell me when the terrible 2-3s end? Are there terrible 4s? Do I just need to teach them to sleep when they are tired? Do I press through this and just deal?
Everyone says that it gets easier with twins as they get older. I have not found this to be true! Things get harder when your kids' personalities become more and more different. Each kid needs something completely different any or every moment of the day. And I think the thing they need most is time apart from each other. Isn't that sad?
Archie died on Thursday night. I was holding him. We were on our way to the emergency vet. I held him so we could all say goodbye. We did. He was 11 and a Boston Terrier and a good boy. He liked strawberries and being warm. His kidneys failed and he didn't last long after that. The girls saw him die. We couldn't help it. It was so fast. I hope they will be okay. Rachel wants to magic him back. And when told again that he has died, Rachel says, "Now I don't have anything! No dog. Not anything!" Anya understands quietly. I ask her, "What happens when we die?" This is a new question, I have never told her anything about this. She thinks for a minute and then says, "You get a new face." I am wowed by this simple answer. This is the best explanation of reincarnation that I have ever heard. I personally believe that our energy enters the world and is turned into something else. Or someone else. A new face indeed. Makes you wonder if we are born with the secrets of the universe fresh in our minds.
Jeff wrote the story of Archie better than I could.
Anya started yelling in her sleep last night, dreaming about something. She wanted me to find her spoon and help her eat. She kept saying she was hungry. I finally got her to calm down by pretending to give her a spoon to eat and bringing her some water.
This morning, I asked her about her dream. She thought for a minute and then said, "I was dreaming that I wanted coleslaw with my dinner. And I needed a spoon." We laughed and laughed about this. Then I said, "Anya, you're my coleslaw." And she said, "Mama, you're my coleslaw."
Who is your coleslaw?
The photo project is officially done in our house. Here we are in front of Valerie's photos up in the Corcoran Gallery in Washington, DC for the last time!
And here are the photos that went up:
I will write more about this later, but I have to say that inviting a photographer into our home for six months was one of the best things we ever did. We learned to not worry about how we are perceived, we learned that small moments are super important, we made a great friend. I would love to do this again in 5 years to see how we have changed or perhaps in some ways stayed the same.
I always think this, but these photos continue to remind me that we will never be younger than this.
I have to admit, I am the wimpiest twin mom ever. I totally avoid taking the girls places by myself. I tell myself it is for safety. That they totally aren't old enough to listen to me about not running off yet. And this is mostly true. They aren't even 3 yet, so I shouldn't expect them not to get the impulse to just run off. But really, if I work hard every single second of an outing with just me and them, I can overcome being out-numbered.
I did this three times last week. Once, walking them to the park, once pushing them in their stroller nearly a mile to Target and then on Friday, I took them on the Metro to Artomatic to make sure my wall was still there and that the pieces that I have already sold were still in tact. Each time with the girls got easier, but I still found myself repeating the same safety instructions over and over and over again. This has got to be the worst part of being a parent. All the talking. The sound of my own voice.
Hold my hand or you will go home. Don't run away from me or you will go home. If you listen to me you will not fall down. If you head-butt your sister, you will go home. No biting or pushing. Put that back. No cookies. You already got a new toy. Winnie the Pooh is not just for babies. Please do not pick that up.
It just goes on and on and on. If I am lucky, Anya will start to repeat the instructions for me. Rachel, no running. Rachel, do not bub bub me. Rachel, I am going to throw you in the trash. Ok, that last one is of Anya's creation, not mine.
I almost feel like I have to literally push myself into these situations each and every single day or I will just stop. That this crazy exploration of our city has to continue so that this will become our new normal. No more Tuesday mornings inside watching "How I Met Your Mother" on the DVR, I must be out in the world, making the girls experience new things.
At this age, I feel bad that they don't go to "school" if you can call daycare at 3 "school". I know some people do. But in this city, we just can't afford it. We are hoping to be able to afford pre-school in a year when they are 4, so for now, I am their teacher and their best friend and I guess it is ok if I keep pushing myself on to the next adventure. After our trip to Artomatic on Friday, I went to put the girls to bed at 8pm and couldn't wake up. Just slept through my free Friday night. I slept for 10 hours. Grandma sleep. The sleep of a twin mom who is actually pushing herself and not taking the easy at home with My Little Pony route.
Let's see how long I can keep this up. Let's see where I take them next week. Let's see.
***
Oh! My Artomatic wall is still there, on the 8th Floor. I haven't been able to take a photo yet, but here is one that my friend Rania sent me:
The girls really like kites. Here they are, escaping the city to fly kites at grandma's house.
And Anya with a string:
I have a new post over at the Crafty Bastards Blog about making stuff with my new woodburning tool.
I have also been posting lots of these pieces to my Etsy shop.
The girls are currently singing, "You gotta be brave in the cave." I don't know what this means, but it is funny.
The other night Anya said to me, "Mommy, you have to follow your dreams." I don't know if she learned this from me or the My Little Ponies. I bet it came from the ponies. She listens to them more.
The girls miss having their picture taken. So last week, Valerie brought over her camera to get photos of the new peanut allergy design that Scott helped me with last month. Still working on them, but here is the prototype.
Rachel:
On Anya:
We are battling allergies and each other. We are also working on things that will make us big girls, like potty training and FINALLY getting rid of the occasional milk in a bottle. I know, sad, but true. I told Anya last week that the doctor called and said that her ba-ba was making her sick. I told her this all day long. She got it. She doesn't ask for them anymore, but is still stressed about it even though she doesn't talk about it. I come from a place where I don't like to stress my kids out because they aren't doing what is expected. I figure that when the time is right, they will fall into line with things like potty training, etc. But with all the terrible reports about the plastic bottles being taken off the shelves of evil stores like Walmart, we had to just go cold turkey.
It is stressful for both Anya and I. We will laugh about it when she is 5.
Let me start this post by saying that I am neither pregnant nor do I want more children.
I have been having recurring dreams of a son. Not wishes, but actual dreams. The first time I dreamt of him, I was so confused and upset. In the dream, I was in a college dorm room. There were two beds, with identical girls sitting on them. They were thin with short hair, kinda like Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby. They were nothing like my girls are now, which likely means my kids will rebel against their long wild hair someday. In the dream, I didn't realize that I was old. I thought, oh, this is college. These are my friends. And in walks the most fabulous young man I have ever ever seen.
He is so lovely, a little taller than me, stocky like a bulldog. He has blonde hair and a scruffy round face. He looks so much like Anya that I want to kiss his cheek. He walks in and owns the room and I appreciate this. I feel almost proud of this. This extreme confidence.
Then I notice that my mother is there. This is strange. He walks up to her first and hugs her. This confuses me more. How does this young man know my mother? My first reaction is that he must be my boyfriend. He knows my mother, who else could he be? That this dream is about me in college. But who are the girls?
He looks at me with twinkley eyes and he kisses my cheek. He smells like someone who plays tennis. I take his face in my hands and tell him he smells like a man. To this he laughs big. Then I notice that under his vintage newsboy cap, he has cut his hair. I take it off and comment on it. Not judging, but commenting. He is all laughing eyes, like my grandfather.
He points to the girls on the dorm beds, who are sitting as if in suspended animation and asks, "How are the exchange students?" We are wicked, this is our inside joke about these girls. We are a team against them and this makes him very happy.
In the dream, I love the round face boy more than anything in the world. The first time I woke from dreaming of him, I was really upset. It took me half a day to realize who he was. He wasn't my boyfriend, he was my son! This made so much sense once I figured it out. So much sense.
Now, I do not plan on more kids. I feel very strongly that another child would take resources from my girls. That I am already stretched thin. That I couldn't possibly financially or emotionally afford another child. And who is to say this boy would ever exist? Jeff and I say that our luck we would get the child who would ruin our old age if we had another. You know, the crack smoking, baby having girl who tries to kill you in your sleep. :) Or like on Jon and Kate Plus 8, we try for one more kid and get 6. I just couldn't chance this at all. I don't want more kids, but I think of the round faced boy often.
Why do dreams create fully formed people who seem so real that they could actually exist? Do they exist in some other universe? I would be happy just to know he exists somewhere. That he has a loving alternate me and Mia Farrow sisters. That he is confident and laughs big.
I have been Goccoing shoes all night. Green shoes, brown shoes, pearly blue ones. On wood and notebooks and speckle-y lime green cards. I wrote a story with the shoes. Of two girls, twins. clones, in the future. But one is unstuck from time. It is the ultimate sadness.
The second in a series of Gocco printed twitter/blog posts on Walnut Hollow Basswood Shapes. Hand printed with my Gocco hand stamp with light and dark green ink. Both sets of Mary Janes are double stamped. The top pair is slightly off though, as the owner of the shoes is unstuck in time. She can't control her time traveling the way her sister can and this is so so sad. One wonders if she even exists. And they spend their lives searching for a cure.
This is the worst picture of all time. My old camera broke and I am stuck with this silly little orange camera.
I was lucky enough to see another play doh wall art installation this week. This one was again started by Rachel, but was a little different because it was multi-media. This one was really really beautiful.
And for all you moms out there who are stressed out by this, it totally comes right off! I just wait for them to not be around before I take it down.
Thanks to Jessica for making me think more about this....
Some people mourn when their kids age. They get upset when they suddenly don't have babies anymore. I understand this a little. Sometimes the girls and I look at pictures from when they were little and I feel a little sad. But I don't really yearn for the old versions like some people do.
I never really thought about having kids. It was never a dream, per say. Sure, when it was time to have kids, we talked about it and I agreed. But it was not this lifelong wish. I think this makes me a better mother. I never ever thought, "Someday someone will love me because they have to, because they need me." I never banked on this. But here I am with two little girls who do love me and do need me and this won't go away when they are 5 or 8 or 20. It will just be different. It will get worse and then better if I am a good mom. I get this. I want my girls to be adults someday. I want them to grow up. I want them to be happy, not helpless babies for the rest of their lives.
The other night, before bed, Anya said, "Mama. Toys aren't real." She was kinda asking me a question, like she knew this to be true, but needed me to confirm. This didn't make me sad. I was so excited for her that she was making these connections. Her ponies are not real. They are plastic, but that it is okay to pretend they are real. We then had a big talk about this, about pretending. She got very excited to talk to me about it, to have her thoughts confirmed. If we can have this conversation at 2-1/2, I can't wait to meet her when she is 8. Of course, I will miss my little Anya, but I would never want to hold her back. To keep her an infant or a toddler forever.
People often tell me that my kids are really advanced for their age. I reply that I don't treat them "their age". I think this is the key, to not let your self worth as a person get wrapped up in your kids. To let them learn and grow and not let your needs or neediness get wrapped up in their progress.
Our Easter Egg Hunt, was more of a gather.
When Rachi saw this picture of Anya she said, "Put it away. Anya is so sad."
Here Rachi is stressed about waiting to get her eggs:
2-1/2 is both a horrible and a wonderful age. I love it and hate it nearly every minute of the day. They seem to be constantly fighting with one another and pushing me to give in all the time. This past week, though, we cut out all sugar from the house. And I have to say that everyone has been much happier. I didn't think it would work that fast, but it has. I mean, Sunday was an overdose of it on Easter, but ever since about Tuesday or so, the girls have been much much more calm. I saw glimpses today of what 3 and 4 may be like. I looked up from what I was doing to see that it was 2pm and I hadn't had to break up any fights all day. Awesome. I feel like I may be turning a corner to something new.
I got this awesome email from Emily in England this week. I love that she and I have never met, but we seem to be a part of her dream life. It makes me think of the invisible threads connecting us all. The last time she dreamt of us was over a year ago, I think and in that dream, the girls were working on a building with some mice.
hey Tina,
Hope you and the family are well, i have been in Paris for the last three days and i had a weird dream (again) about you and the twins, this time you were normal sized all over except your tummy, it was massive, massive, massive because you were still pregnant with Anya and Rachel even though they are now two or thereabouts. I guess you were like kangaroo or something..you were having a scan and on the screen the girls were there in their jeans and little shoes and cute tops. The doctor said you were a medical miracle because it was the longest ever pregnancy a human had ever had! Anya got out to get some crisps and cokes and then got back in again through what looked like a caesarean scar...it was all very odd but cool
byeeeeee xx
Rachel is always coming up with new ways to use Play Doh. She makes hats and beds and pillows and things for her toys. But today was the best ever. I was sitting at the computer, working, talking to the girls with my back to them and turned around to this:
It was Rachi's project as the blue doh is hers. When I started to praise it, Anya started adding her yellow blobs on.
Ani is smiling, Rachi is still serious about her work.
I loved this. It was so beautiful, turning the wall into something alive, teaming with blue worm creatures. Rachi was very serious about it, where she put the doh, etc. This is part of what I want my kids to be able to do. I want them to see the wall as canvas, anything as canvas. It is completely rad.
Our neighbor smokes out her window. The smoke travels a little path directly to our windows. We don't notice it until it is too late and we are head ache-y and cough-y and sore throat-y.
My girls have asthma. This means that this attack from the girl next store is a big deal. This means they will have asthma attacks in the middle of the night while they sleep. This means they have to sleep with us so that we hear them. This means that we are all in one big bed and we are not comfortable. This means that we do not sleep well. I could go on and on. The winter was fine because we didn't open the windows, but with spring coming, we are noticing it.
I put a note under her door a few weeks ago. We thought she had stopped. But today I was feeling sick and Rachi was rubbing her eyes and Jeff came in to say that the neighbor was smoking out her window again.
I wonder if smokers feel this bad all the time. Like irritable and scratchy throat and head ache-y? If they do, they must be the most miserable people on the planet.
When I was 5, I watched an EMT put one of those hole things in my maternal grandmother's throat. She was a smoker and miserable. I remember thinking, wow, that is dumb, hurting yourself like that. But it was the 70's and she was a poor old woman. Our neighbor is young and lives in the future. So I wonder what her excuse is. I am sorry, but whatever it is, I feel no sympathy. She is pathetic for being addicted to something so disgusting.
So, I put a new note on her door, asking her to please stop harming us. Will see how much of a bad guy she really is. It is likely that someone else will have to deal with her for us. Unfortunately, it is not illegal in DC to smoke in your apartment. I could take my kids to bar and be smoke-free there, though. Perhaps we will go sleep at a bar.
For now, we close all the windows. We shut out the coming spring.
>> photo by Valerie Dryden.
This is how I feel almost every minute of every day. Torn and pulled in many directions.
Yesterday, on the swings.
"No sharing mama today." - Rachel
"I wish we could have two mommies. One for me and one for Anya." - Rachel
"Who would get me?" - Tina
"I would get you. Get a new mommy for Anya." - Rachel
"We could make two Tinas. One for both of us." - Anya
The current sadness of being a twin and 2-1/2.
we are growing into lady-people who wear fashiony coats and like ponies. we are blue-eyed and windy and talk about mysteries and secrets. we sit next to each other in our new stroller, side by side touching each other's hair. we love to whisper and yell and talk about being mad. we tell mama about nightmares where little, but also big chickens are chasing us. we call ham, "sam." we love to say hello to shadows as if they are special creatures who we only rarely connect with.
>>photo by Valerie Dryden.
I have mentioned this before, but the girls love trees. They love to say, "Hello, tree. How you doing?" They love to go outside and hug their tree friends. This makes me happy. The girls also like to argue about Barack Obama vs. Hillary Clinton. This makes me laugh. It usually ends with one calling Hillary Clinton a butt hole. This makes me laugh even harder. I am glad that I have kids who can appreciate the beauty of nature as well as the complex political landscape of our country.
I think that Barack Obama likely enjoys trees more than Hillary Clinton. Gonna go ask the girls what they think.
Some photos of us looking at our photos at the Corcoran last night. Thanks to everyone who came out to see us.
Here, Anya points to one of our photos. When she saw this one, she said, "There's Mommy all alone." This was so smart because it was actually the point of the photo! See below, in this one, I am on the phone with Jeff while away at the Bust Craftacular in New York in December.
The girls thought the gallery had a good dance floor.
Rachel and I:
All of us with Valerie:
The girls dresses are by courtneycourtney. They are made from recycled t-shirts.
Another of the photos taken by Valerie Dryden.
We do this every morning. We paint paper until it gets boring, then we paint our arms and faces. Rachel likes to paint her Little People most of all, though.
There is an article on the Etsy Storque today about our opening Gallery 31 at the Corcoran tonight. Check it out.
I think it is really really important that as parents we try to push away the tired tired and try to be creative and productive and show our children how important doing is.
One of the 1,000 photos that Valerie Dryden took of us, here is Anya being funny. She calls this being, "in the clown".
Yesterday, in the elevator with a neighbor, Anya looked up and said, "I am Anya and this is Rachel," pointing to her sister. This was the first time she introduced herself to anyone and I thought it was really nice that she introduced Rachel, too.
we make yellow playdoh bunnies all morning long. and then a pink cake and then some plates and forks. i am better than i thought at making forks, but the spoons, the spoons are the most lovely. then we cut the playdoh cake and feed it to all the babies. and save a plate of fake cake for daddy.
If you are lucky in your lifetime, you will not ever have to see your two year old drugged and unable to stand. If you are lucky in your lifetime, you WILL get to see how modern medicine is rad. There are some things in the world that I do not believe in, like god and the moon landing, but I do believe in outpatient surgery.
I know I am being overly dramatic, but today was really stressful. As a mom of twins, I have to say that there is this small portion deep inside of me that is always waiting for the universe to take one away. I am always worried that the powers-that-be will correct itself. That I was only meant one quirky little girl in my life and that this was all a fluke. I have many times met women who say things like, "My son is a twin. But his brother died." And this touches that tiny worry deep inside of me and I am looking at someone who has lived my worst fear.
When I first found out I was having twins, I worried that I couldn't love/care for/afford two children at once. I remember mourning the loss of the idea of that one special child. The further you get into twin parenthood, the more you realize how dumb and selfish that is.
When I gave birth, I almost died. And for ten days, we waited in the hospital to see if I could go home. And I didn't fully understand the situation until it was over. I kept a good attitude and didn't worry because in the modern world, women like me don't die in childbirth. But yesterday in the Operating Room, watching the anesthesiologist put the mask on my 27 pound two year old, I thought, "oh my, I could become one of those women today." I could be walking down the street with Anya one day when she is 12 and see a woman with twins and say, "Anya was a twin. Her sister died." I don't know what the numbers are on how many kids die from being put under for surgery every day, but I still worried.
So, I recorded every moment with Rachel to save in case something happened. From the way her little hospital dress hung off her tiny frame, to how she joked with the nurses about their hospital masks, from the way she scrambled from her little bed onto the operating table. Walking out of the OR to go and wait, I thought, "Ok. This can be enough. I will be happy with this if something happens." But of course, it never would be. We never have enough time with our children. Never ever. This is the secret of parenthood. No matter how many minutes or hours or decades, it can never be enough.
The waiting took forever. But a few hours later, they wheeled her down to us. She looked horrible. I didn't react very well to her state, IV in her hand, tired mad face, white as a ghost, crying and nauseous. My whole body felt hot, like the blood in my veins was lava, threatening to burn me from the inside out. And I felt like I was going to pass out or vomit or both. No matter how much I told myself, "She is ok," I still felt this way. I didn't expect to react this way. It was really strange. Jeff kept telling me it was just that I was worried, but I think I might have had a little bit of a flash back to my 10 days in the hospital after the girls were born.
For the rest of the day, Rachel couldn't walk because she had an epidural for the surgery. It was so sad, she was like a new baby horse, trying to stand and crumpling to the ground. At one point, she was like the legless terminator dragging herself across the living room floor to reach a toy.
Today, she is still sore and on pain meds, but I am so happy this is all done. I know it was just a hernia and that I am lucky to not have a chronically ill child. I am very lucky. Lucky to have health insurance. Lucky to have good doctors. Lucky to have twins.
Just a note that Jeff, the girls and I will be making our big art debut at the Corcoran Gallery of Art next week. Photographer, Valerie Dryden's Senior Thesis Exhibition, Tina's Seamonsters will be on display from February 20-24th in CORRECTION! Gallery 31 (in the school entrance on the New York Ave. side of the gallery).
Valerie has been taking pictures of the twins and I on our daily adventures for 6 months now. Her show tells the story of how I manage twins as a work at home mom, plus a successful online business. It also shows, I am sure, just how tired and messy we really are. :)
Opening Reception for the show is February 21, 6-8pm in the North Atrium of the Corcoran Gallery of Art. We are hoping to be there.
Here's the info, in case you are around the Gallery sometime soon and want to check it out:
Valerie Dryden: Tina's Seamonsters
Senior Thesis Exhibition
February 20-24, 2008
Open 10 am-5pm
Gallery 31 on the New York Ave side of the Gallery, school entrance
Corcoran Gallery of Art
500 Seventeenth Street, NW
Washington, DC 20006
I will be posting the photos to the blog over the next few weeks, so you can also see them here!
I haven't written about this much because it has just been too stressful around here, but Rachel will be having hernia surgery on Thursday. She has been in a lot of pain this past week, awaiting the surgery and this has made her and I extra tired and cranky. The crap thing about this whole ordeal is that, 1. She was born with the hernia and likely it just started to hurt OR she just started to be able to tell us it hurts. and 2. She has been telling us it hurts since Xmas and it took 3 doctor's appointments and my Google skills to diagnosis it. All of this makes me very very upset and sad that she could have possibly been in pain for a long time. It also makes me mad that our first appointment for this problem happened the day after Xmas and they were so under-staffed that they didn't even stop to think it might be a hernia. They just said she had a rash and gave us some cream. Three appointments, a sonogram and a half day in the Hematology department later and we are finally almost done with this.
All of this makes me understand how it must feel to be a parent who doesn't have health insurance for their children. How horrible it is to see your child in pain and worse to have to rely on others to fix it. We have pretty good health insurance and care, but this has still been less than easy to get fixed.
Anyway, we are finally getting the surgery on Thursday, so please send us positive thoughts.
Even with Valerie here taking our picture for the past 6 months, I find that it is rare to have a photo of both girl's faces together. But here, I caught one! On Saturday, we had lunch with my parents and my mom was like... "ok, who is who?" I am continually floored by this. How on earth can she not know who is who? They are so so different. I think you can see the differences in this photo. Rachel has a thinner, pointer face. Anya, bigger eyes. Personally, I often think they are so different that they are not at all identical. I know this is crazy to other people. Perhaps all parents of twins think this. You can't tell in this photo, but Anya has a small gap in her teeth that Rachel does not. Their eyes seem to be the same color, though. We are thinking about getting different haircuts to see if this makes them seem more different to the outside world.
My sister tells me she can't remember me from our childhood. This is something that completely floors me. How could this be? She does remember the time I saved us from being kidnapped. I am glad that she remembers this because it is one of my greatest accomplishments. I wonder sometimes if this one act of bravery at 7 or 8 years old is what gives me the strange uber-confidence that I have. I remember being so afraid that day. I wonder if certain moments of extreme fear in life can do this to you. Like why aren't all women more confident after giving birth?
I wonder a lot about the self-confidence issue during my trip to New York for the Bust Craftacular. How does one get it and how do they keep it and where does it come from and how can mine be so absolute in certain situations and a little iffy in others?
I am watching my friend Beth Magie DC's table at the show when I start up a conversation with a girl in a grandma coat. I tell her I like her coat because it reminds me of my grandma. She tells me it my be her grandma's coat. I wish I knew where my grandma's clothes went when she went to the nursing home, I think. I talk some more with this Grandma Coat Girl about how none of us will be Great Grandmothers in the future. I don't mean really good grandmas, but I mean, Great Grandmas. I had two when I was little, we called one of them Old Ma. They were very special to me. Earlier in the bathroom at the Metropolitan Pavilion, I saw my grandma in the mirror when I was washing my hands. My hair was in this big loose bun in the back and there she was so very clearly in my face. This put grandmas on my mind, I guess. So I say to the Grandma Coat Girl that we won't be Great Grandmas anymore because we are having children so old and there just won't be time in our lives for us to see so many generations. She suggests that perhaps we will live longer and thus my theory is wrong. I say that I don't want to live that long and be old for so long. I so am not happy that some day I might get very old. This is an interesting conversation to be having with a stranger at a booth that isn't mine. It is funny and strange, like I had known her for a very long time. She is a very pretty girl with a soft voice and kind smile and I start to wonder who she is. She asks me about my creations, which are really Beth's and this is when I explain that I am actually Tina Seamonster and these aren't mine, but Beth's and I make other stuff and I point across the room. And then the Grandma Coat Girl surprises me by telling me she is someone unexpected. Jenny Harada!, a total hero to me in the world of indie craft and here I was blabbing nonsense of grandmas to her. There is some confusion about whether or not we have actually met or just know things about the other through my ordering from her and blogs and being in the same place at the same time. And it is a really wonderful conversation and I think about how I never would have had it if I had not been confident enough to.
***
There are more stories to tell about the Bust show... more tomorrow.
I just set the girls up for their daily painting. Pouring out the paint on their paper plates, Anya said, "Orange! Orange is a food friend." Indeed.
I posted a new earliest memory over at Yeti Loves Seamonster tonight. It is from Jessica of Spider Camp and all I can say is wow. Go read it, then come back and finish this. Yeah, go ahead, I'll be here.
Isn't it just wow? It reminds me of how grandparents can be so magical. And how our memories are so amazing and how being alive is rad.
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Rachi has these shoes. The butterfly shoes. They are brown suede Mary Janes and they close on the side with butterflies. I say that Rachi has them, but really we have 3 pair. They are a size 5, even though we wear a size 6, she can still wear them and no matter what other shoes I put on her, she says, "No. Butterfly shoes." She wore them tonight to meet her Grandpa in the lobby of our building. She wore them without socks because they don't fit any other way. In them, her feet look just like my Grandma's. The way she stands kinda sideways in them, kinda leany to one side, makes her look just like a tiny version of my Margie. And then she springs to life, racing down the hall, singing and acting like a tiny fox. There is nothing better than living with a 2 year old version of your grandma.
You would think that since a photographer has been taking our pictures for the past 2 months (long, interesting story that I will tell and show photos from at some point!), that the girls would be good at getting their picture taken. But no, this photo was like pulling teeth to get:
They mostly looked like this at first:
We took the girls around the block in their super cheap pirate suits and they were so excited, yelling "Happy Halloween" to everyone. Seeing them dressed alike really did make them feel like one clump of a child, which was strange and sad. Sad because a lot of parents of twins do this and I think it must really hurt their ability to see their children as individuals.
We didn't get much candy because we only stopped at 3 houses and our own door man gave them some, but when we got in, Anya thought she was supposed to eat it all right then. Rachi ate her small portion happily, but not Anya. She screamed and kicked because she wanted all of it! It made me wonder if one is born with food addiction or if she was actually just hungry. It is strange to see these two children, identical to people who don't know them, act so completely different in the face of a ghost bucket of chocolate.
"How can you tell them apart?" people ask me. Next time, I will answer... "You got a candy bar, I'll show you."
We took the girls to Malcolm X Park to see the ducks and water fall yesterday. We also saw some dogs. On the way out, a female police officer showed up on horseback. The girls got to pet Jack the horse and were really excited to see one so close. The police lady gave them stickers and it was pretty cool. When leaving, Rachi said to her, "Bye bye Cowboy."
This was just so funny. Of course anyone with a horse has got to be a cowboy.
Stories of Jack and the Cowboy we told over and over again all night long.
Ever since Jeff started singing the big bad wolf song to the girls (you know, "I'm going to huff and puff and blow your house down."), Rachi has started to call him Bad Wolf. Like, "Bad Wolf, get me juice!" or "Where's Bad Wolf going?" This is just hilarious and kind of strange. First, it is a Dr. Who Season 1 reference, since the Bad Wolf was the big bad for the season. Second, it is just slightly kooky for a little tiny girl to call her daddy Bad Wolf with such glee. It has seriously become his new name.
Because of this, I thought about having the girls dress as Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween. But with more thought, I realized that it was just too victim-y to dress like Little Red Riding Hood. Then I thought about Riding Hood with big swords under their capes, but two year olds and big swords doesn't make for a good day.
So, I think we are going to be cow girls. We have hats and giant My Little Ponies... just wondering if I should add lassos to the mix.
"My daddy is at work," Rachi says as I push both of them on the baby swings. I have mastered this motion, one arm pushing one girl, the other pushing the other girl. I am a big machine, manufacturing windy hair and "weeeees".
The girls are closer than ever to the leaves above my head.
"They clapping for me, mama," Anya says.
"Yes, the leaves love you," I say.
"What does your daddy do at work?" I ask both girls.
"I don't know." They both say fast because they do have an answer, but they always say I don't know first when they aren't sure.
"Make things," Anya says. This makes me smile because they see mama making things and think that this is what people do for work. Make things.
"What does Daddy make at work?" I ask, still pushing the swinging windy-haired girls.
"Butterflies!" Anya smiles and yells.
"Giant butterflies!" Rachi adds.
"Yes. Daddy makes giant butterflies at work," I agree. "What a wonderful job."
"What do you want to do when you go to work?" I ask.
"Take pictures," Anya says. "Like Balerie."
I smile at this. Valerie is the photojournalism student who is doing her senior thesis project on us this fall. She takes lots and lots of pictures of us and this has made an impact on Anya.
My two year olds want to be photojournalists when they grow up. Their daddy makes giant butterflies at work and the leaves are clapping for them. I don't often feel this, but I must be doing something right.
I can't believe I don't have babies anymore. And I don't miss it at all.
Meet Anya. She is no longer a baby. She is a little girl. She likes to scream, "My name is Anya and I like to dance!" She can get her own matching shoes from the shoe pile. She is two and is very complicated and sweet and knows how funny she is.
Meet Rachel. She, too, is far from babyhood. She likes to scream at ants, asking them, "What you doing, ants?" She loves to play ball and knows when her new shoes are too big. She is two and very determined and loves to kiss and hug, in that order.
"You are growing up," I tell Anya. "We no grow up, mama. Flowers grow up." she says, eyes all twinkle twinkle. She loves a joke and knows she has made one. "I'm in the clown, mama," she says.
We take the girls down to the Washington Monument and let them run and play soccer and walk all the way to the "waterfall" at the WWII Memorial. At one point, Anya tells me, "I tired. I lay down here." and stops and lays down on the sidewalk. This is so cute and sad. "We are in China!" Rachel tells us as we exit the Metro to a new place. I can't imagine what these little people will say next. I dig all of this.
I don't understand people who complain about their children. They are the most amazing people you will ever meet.
Check out my blog post for the Television Zombies Blog about the new show, Yo Gabba Gabba!
The air outside feels like a new school year. All September-y with its little breez | | |
