Almost Three?!

Ah, my sweet, little, chocolate-covered, Lucy and Jane. You have become older, wiser, funnier, taller, smarter people since I last wrote. You are almost three. THREE! I’m still not entirely sure how that happened.

You love Daisy, our new mini-van, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. We can’t go to the library, the park, or Costco often enough. You preface about a third of your comments with, “When we were little…”. You are so good at puzzles, naming your feelings (Jane, you scrunch up your face and say, “I’m kinda nerbous”), and giving hugs.

You’ve been to Wisconsin with the Stroessners (now you like to say “it’s hard to keep track of all my cousins”); you’ve seen the giant bean (or goose egg if you insist, which you almost always do – insist, that is) in Chicago; you’ve learned that you’re going to be big sisters.

Jane, you love this little stone turtle that the previous owners left in the garden. I mean, you LOVE that turtle. You carry him (her?) all around the yard with you, and you’ve been known to sneak it into the wagon so he can go with you to the park. That poor turtle got sat in the middle of an anthill one day, and you were beside yourself when you found him covered in ants. You quickly picked him up to brush them off, then almost as quickly began crying when you became covered in ants.

You also love to get dirty. We had a huge pile of dirt in our front yard, and you and Lucy both enjoyed helping your dad shovel it into a wheelbarrow and dump it in the backyard. Luce, you stayed as clean as you could, which means you had dirty shoes and socks. Jane, you got as dirty as you could, which means you decided to slide down that hill of dirt. On your stomach. Head first. Repeatedly.

When you can’t be dirty, you like to be naked. You especially like to strip off all your clothes, let yourself out the front door, and run around the yard. Our neighbor, Nick, has had the privilege of enjoying this a couple of times, watching me or your dad chase you down and bring you back inside. Last time we were outside together, he asked you about it, and you told him (no kidding) “sometimes I like to do it when I’m mad at my mom”. What?!

Lucy, you are a hilarious sister. You want to be right, you want to be in control, you want to call the shots. This would be so much easier if Jane would just cooperate with you  A couple of weeks ago, the two of you were having a fairly heated debate about whether or not there was a bug or a “bug statue” in the car. I had decided not to get involved. Finally, you said, “Okay, here’s the deal. You think it’s a bug; I think it’s a bug statue. Okay, sweetie?” I love that you’re learning you don’t always have to be right; there doesn’t always have to be a winner; sometimes, it’s okay for you and your sister to think different things.

Luce, you are so capable, insisting on dressing yourself, even down to your shoes and socks. You have some pretty strong opinions about what you like and don’t like, especially when it comes to food. Although you’re eating better these days, you still don’t always want to try new things. The other evening, you helped me make soup; I thought for sure since you had helped you’d try it. I was wrong. No amount of pleading, bribing or cajoling could get you to put that spoon in your mouth. Finally, you looked at me, frustrated I’m sure, and said, “Mom, you know I like food plain. Remember?” An hour later (after you and Jane had been playing, the kitchen had been cleaned, and Daisy had gotten into your untouched bowl of soup), you decided you were ready for a “sample”.

Ladies, I don't want to give you the wrong idea. You're not always particularly pleasant. We have had moments (days, even weeks) of experiencing THE TERRIBLE TWOS. But even then, even when you're at your most frustrating, most whiny, most buggary selves... well, even then, you are still my amazing daughters, my meatballs, my chicken-littles, and I love you very, very much. Even then.

All my love and then some,
Mama

Your Dad

Girls,

Guess what? (Whenever I say that to you, neither of you says “what?”. You always say, yeah. Weirdos) It’s Father’s Day. Woo-hoo; I know. That doesn’t mean a lot to you beyond the fact that you’ll probably sing Happy Birthday to your dad. It’s one of your favorite songs and you sing it to people regardless of whether or not it really is their birthday.

In honor of your dad and the day, I thought we'd play the interview game. Even getting ready for this game was funny. I told you I was going to interview you and said that means I'd ask you a question and you'd tell me what you think. Jane, for some bizarre reason, you shouted out "PINK!". Well, at least we know what you're thinking...

What is Daddy's name?
L: Um... Jeff!
J: I don't know.

What do you love most about Daddy?
L: I'm not a daddy. Strawberries!
J: Crackers!

How do you know Daddy loves you?
L: (she grins) He loves me thiiiis much (stretches out arms). And he lets me get babydolls.
J: He loves me thiiiiis much (attempts to stretch arms wider than Luce) and he gives me vitamins.

What is your favorite thing to do with Daddy?
J: Play basketball!
L: Make ice cream.

Is there anything you want Daddy to know on Father's Day?
J: LADYBUGS!
L: APPLE JUICE!

I want to take a minute to tell you about this guy who is your dad. He loves you both so much. He adores you. He misses you when you have a slumber party at Nana’s house.


When he pulls in the driveway from work in the evening, we’re often sitting outside on the front steps eating freezer pops. Or sometimes coloring on the sidewalk with chalk. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, as soon as you see that he’s there, you race to the garage and are bouncing around before he even opens his door. If he’s lucky, you’ll follow him inside so he can change into shorts. But you know what? He doesn’t even care. If you’re insistent and less willing to let him change, he just sits on the sidewalk in his work pants and colors with you. Or helps you water the plants. Or lets you drip melted freezer pop on him. That’s how he is.


Daddy pulls out the watercolors and paints with you. He lets you use the glitter glue to your hearts’ content. He helps you catch and inspect all sorts of bugs. He is infinitely patient with you.


He’s the best tickler/chaser/hide-and-seek player. You love to wrestle with and climb all over your dad. You beg for more “shark kisses”. He pushes you highest on the swings and helps you dangle from the monkey bars.

Daddy is so proud of you, Jane. He is so proud of you, Lucy. He’s your biggest fan and always will be.

We're pretty lucky to have him.

Love,
Mama

Boys already?

Dear Lucy,

This morning you told me you have a boyfriend. WHA?! You are two and a half, and this is at least four years before I expected to hear any of that sort of nonsense. But you redeemed yourself when I asked why he's your boyfriend. You grinned and told me he makes you laugh.

Love you.
Mama

Little girls

Sometimes it overwhelms me that you are no longer babies. That first year was tough. Great, but nearly impossibly difficult. There's a webforum for twin parents I would visit when I couldn't figure out how to handle whatever was going on. I started out in the "Expecting Twins!" room where it was fun to poke around and think about how amazing it was going to be when you became a living out loud part of my world. Then, it was "Twins (The First Year)". Much more daunting. Anywho, while it was happening, it seemed like we would always be in that world. But recently I wanted some thoughts on bedtime (because goodness gracious, girls, you are not making that part of the day easy) and what has happened?! We're in the "Twins (Age 2-4)" forum now. You are full-on people now. With wants (lots of them) and desires and talking (so much talking) and crying (sometimes a lot of crying) and sweaty socks and grass-stained jeans and demands for pretzels and lemonade for breakfast and "just olives, mom" for dinner.

You both usually get up in the morning on your own and come down to our bedroom around 6am. 6:30 if you're letting me sleep in. But before you leave your bedroom, you collect your favorite 20 or so stuffed animals, dolls, and blankets, and then somehow manage to make it down the stairs with your armloads. This morning I could hear you, Lucy, saying so tiredly, "No Jane. Not yet". This was the first morning that one of you made the trip down without the other. But Jane, it was nice to have you to myself for a bit this morning. We snuggled on the chair, and I scratched your back (another one of your demands. If my hand goes too slowly, or I stop, you replace it on your back and glare at me. funny stuff, kid.) Then we made cinnamon toast and you got started on your breakfst while I got your sister up.

You started on your breakfast. As in, I didn't have to spoon-feed you oatmeal. It's such a joy and privilege to get to be your mama and watch you grow up into such lovely, funny, smart people. It's also making me the teensiest bit sad.

Love you so much.

Mama

Mother's Day #3

Ladies,

My third Mother's Day has now come and gone, and I want to tell you girls some of the things I really enjoy about being your mama.

Hugs. Both of you run at me at a cringe-inducing full speed and throw yourself into my arms. Or onto my leg. Luce, you wrap your little legs around me and squeeze. Jane, your hugs are fast - you give a hard squeeze and then are off on a sprint to the next thing.

Conversations. You talk and talk and talk. There are so many things you want to know, so you ask. And so many things you want me to know, so you tell. And it's super cute when you're hyped up because then the chatting is at a much faster pace with no breaks for air, and you both use your hands for emphasis, usually to touch or hold my face to make sure you have my full attention.

Sister-stuff. You guys are friends and playmates and sometimes each others greatest source of frustration. And it is all fabulous. I love listening to you when you don't know I'm there. Lucy, you are usually the director. Okay, Jane, you go over there and you're the cat and that's your baby and Jane, wait! Jane, come back. Jane, if you want to lay on your pillow, you can just lay on your pillow. And then Janey, you come running to find me with a scowl on your face and say, I'm just cranky at Lucy because she won't let me ___ (fill in the blank with any number of things).

Toddler breath. Okay, I will admit that this is least enjoyable after you eat a bag of funyuns (yes, that's a true and unfortunate story). But Jane, you are so funny and weird about breath. If you catch a whiff of toothpaste, you demand to smell my breath. I open up and you try to stuff your entire head in my mouth. Then ask, did you brush your teef? You adore dental floss because it's minty-fresh. And, this is what I haven't figured out. Your breath ALWAYS smells like cilantro (except after the funyuns). You don't eat cilantro. So...?

Your enthusiasm. We routinely make up stories for you and you love them. We've done this since you were tiny, so there are lots of stories and characters at this point, and to be honest, I can't keep them all straight. There is nothing as frustrating to you as when you want to hear a story about Charlie or Susanna and I can't remember the story-line. Yikes! But, when I do remember, you ooh and ahh and act appropriately surprised every time. Your little faces are adorable when your eyes open wide with wonder as if it's the first time you're hearing it.


Big imaginations. From bear hunts to "dis is our umbrella" (a tree in the front yard) to picnics with all your twins (you don't just have baby dolls - everything is considered a twin and comes as a set of two, so you'll pull out a bear and a unicorn and call them your twins), you ladies live and play by your vast imaginations.

There are about a zillion more things I could put on this list... I love you two meatballs so much.

Love,
Mama

Spring has sprung!

A couple of quick updates for you silly little girls.

*You made my week (not exaggerating)when you BOTH ate bok choy. I am not even kidding. Lucy, you are the pickiest little eater ever. It makes me almost crazy. The only reason I haven't started you in toddler eating therapy (no, that's not a real thing. at least not that I know of) is because you occasionally eat an entire pan of roasted broccoli. You are always looking at food and cocking your head and saying, "I'm not gon' like dat". Or, without even touching it, much less tasting it, shouting, "YUCKY!" So, imagine my shock, disbelief, then absolute joy, when you watched your sister toss back some bok choy and then you were interested in trying it, too. AND THEN YOU HAD SECONDS. Thank you, kiddo. And Janey, thank you for being an awesome little eater. You love asparagus, salmon, rice and beans among a zillion other things.

*Last night we were sitting on the front steps outside eating rainbow sherbet. You guys love to slurp the "soup" from the spoon at the end. Luce, I told you to look at the swirl in your spoonful - it was all orange with a pretty little spin of raspberry. You put your little face right down to the spoon and looked and looked, and when I realized you looked confused and unhappy, I asked what was going on. You disgustedly announced, "I don't want a squirrel in my ice cream soup".

*Janey, you have been picking flowers in earnest. This is my second year of willingly accepting the idea that all the lovely flowers in our yard are even more lovely when they're being fully enjoyed by you and your sister, and obviously, full enjoyment involves destruction. You have plucked every crocus, and now you're working on the blanket of little purple flowers in the front yard. It's so sweet that you pick one for yourself, then one for "Yuce". "Here you go, Yucey. I got dis one for you".

Love you ladies!
Mama

Terrible twos. Really?

J&L,

You are two and a half (almost). It is the best time to be a mama, even with the madness and mayhem of the crankiness, whinyness, and general frustration that seems to come along with being two. You are the funniest little people ever, not to mention the cutest.


Here's what you've been up to:

*Luce, the other day, when Janey tried to climb over you and you got hurt (or maybe just frustrated (see above)), you said, "Jane, you're breaking my heart. Please don't do that". WHAAA? Where do these statements, comments, thoughts even come from?!


*Jane, one recent morning, you woke from what must have been an interesting dream. You told me you don't like Zorasaur. The best I can figure based on your description is that this is a combination of Zorak (our friend Katy's ginormous cat who may have chomped on your arm) and the dinosaurs you're learning about at preschool.

*Lucy, when Jane was crying, you wanted to comfort her. "Here Janey. Let me wipe your tear". And then you proceeded to wipe away her tears with your fingers. And then you gave her a hug. And then I nearly choked on the mommy lump lodged in my throat.

*Jane, we finally had some snow. You were both beyond elated. For a solid week, you would find a remaining patch of snow sitting in some shade, and loudly announce, "IT'S STILL SNOWING!". Nothing I could say would convince you that it wasn't in fact snowing, that was just leftover snow. I am silly for even trying to argue with you.


*Luce, your imagination is impressive. I don't know how to even tell how much (if any) truth is incorporated in some of the tales you tell. About one of your buddies at daycare: "He called me a pickle. And I said, I'm Hilda or Lucy Sessner. And he said, It's nice to meet you Hilda or Lucy Sessner".

*Jane, at Costco, when another mom told her little girl, oh, look, it's some more babies, you announced, "Actually, we're little girls." Not sure if it was the actually or your facial expression that cracked me up more.

*You had show and tell at preschool this week. Since the theme is animals, all the kiddos were supposed to bring in a favorite stuffed animal. You guys announced without any hesitation that you'd be taking in your unicorn (Jane) and your flamingoat (Lucy). That's right. I wrote flamingoat. Because that's what you're sure it's called.


I love finding your little gloves in my boots and half-eaten cookies in my purse and toy cars in my coat pocket. I love that when I talk to you, usually trying to explain something, or sometimes just telling a story, you demand, "Say it again, Mama!" You love it when people talk to you like any other conversation. You love being introduced to adults. You love fruit snacks and if I forget to have them with me when I pick you up at preschool - whew, boy, am I in for it.


It has been an absolute joy watching you two become sister-friends. And, just in case you go through a weird phase of watching old TLC shows, that is totally different than sister-wives. You giggle together, wrestle together, play hide together (it's not really hide and seek yet, just hide), call for each other if your sister is in the other room. You two are so very different, yet so very much a part, maybe the most important part, of each others lives. I love you little meatballs very much.


Mama