Crude Gestures

...or at least exaggerated gestures, which certainly could be considered rude in another context…

I have posted so much about this topic over the past few weeks that I feel like I should change the name of this blog to “Adventures in Baby Sign Language”. I won’t do that just yet, but it underscores how much fun we’re having with the girls and their new communication skills.

The girls know a lot of signs…useful ones like eat, milk, more, all done, and sleep. And they know a lot of common things in their world of play…book, ball, airplane, as well as a whole list of animals. I haven’t perfected the ability to read their minds yet (much to their chagrin), but I know there must be so many other things they want to say but don’t know the sign.

It’s happened a few times that the girls have been trying reeeeally hard to tell me something. They had a very intense look about them, and they were signing “MORE!!!” as hard as they could go. “More” didn’t make sense in that context (at least to me). It left me trying to guess what they wanted, and they only got more aggressive with their signing, punctuating it with grunts and whines.

As I was trying to figure out what my little Lassie-girls were trying to show me (and I knew that Timmy couldn't have fallen in the well), it made me think about the tendency to speak more loudly, and in a more exaggerated fashion, to someone who doesn’t speak English.

It’s not really that helpful after all. :)

Fab 5 Friday

What made my week so fabulous? Why, I’m so glad you asked…

1) Baby B got her first haircut on Friday, and Baby A, her third. The girls did relatively well, and Mommy didn’t even cry…although I easily could now, realizing my “babies” look like little girls with their pageboy cuts.

2) We usually go out for a family lunch on Saturdays, but we had a busy weekend planned, and I didn’t think we’d be able to fit it in this week. I somewhat reluctantly suggested we go to dinner on Friday night instead. We hadn’t been to dinner in a long time, as the time between the girls’ dinner (around 4:30) and bedtime (at 7:30) can be a little precarious.

The girls surprised us in a good way this week, though…we had such a wonderful time at our favorite Mexican restaurant. The girls were very entertained by all the commotion, and they behaved as good as gold. Baby A sat facing the door, and she waved at everyone coming in, and told everyone “bye-bye” as they left. We joked that she could be their official Friday-night greeter. If she could have, I feel pretty sure she would have said, “Will work for salsa!”

3) The girls attended their first birthday party on Saturday. They had a great time on the swing set, giggling like mad, and had a blast watching all the older kids play.

4) We had quite the social calendar this week…three days we met a fellow twin mom in the neighborhood for a walk, which actually creates quite the traffic jam in small-town Kentucky. And we met Auntie Shanda for an impromptu lunch on Tuesday. That hit the spot in so many ways.

5) And finally…drum roll please…I’m insanely proud that Baby A has finally decided to use a sippy cup!!! Baby B has yet to follow suit, but I have seen a glimpse of the future, and it’s enough to whet my palate for now.

Silly Mommy

A couple of weeks ago I very nonchalantly mentioned in a blog post how much the girls enjoy my frog imitation (jumping up from a squatting position with a hearty “ribbit!”). I had been doing it for a few days without much thought, but when I actually saw it recapped in black and white, I realized the neighbors are probably laughing at me (again)…and I had to laugh at myself, too.

I made myself laugh again earlier this week at the discovery that my “Cousin It” impression stuns the girls enough to make them hold still on their infant scale. I think they’re so shocked over Mommy’s ridiculousness that they pause, wash a silly smile over their faces, and ponder, “What in the world is she doing now?”

As a mom, I have absolutely no shame in singing, dancing, jumping, bouncing…you-name-it…to entertain and amuse my kiddos. I try to exercise a little restraint in public, but I’ve decided I’d rather look a little goofy than have the girls start whining somewhere. Besides, it's kinda fun. :)

And as I think about it now, I should probably enjoy the opportunity to have the girls appreciate my silly side. I know one day, when they hit their middle-school years, they’ll probably find even my most “normal” self an embarrassment.

A History of Hair, in Pictures

Baby A was born with a full head of hair. Baby B had a little around the edges.

While Baby B eventually became bald, Baby A's hair continued to grow.

By the time the girls were 9 months old, Baby A was in desperate need of her first haircut. Baby B confirmed this after a thorough inspection.

Despite my hairdresser's concerns over the bad luck a haircut before the age of one might bring, Baby A met the scissors for the first time.

Baby A's hair continued to grow at an alarming rate, requiring another cut just three months later. And finally, by the time the girls were 15 months old, Baby B was ready for her first cut, just in time for Baby A's third.

Check out our little beatniks, as Daddy called them (giving each other a hug)...

Here are the girls before their haircuts...

Here's Baby B, having survived her first encounter with the scissors...

And here are the finished products...

Although I would ultimately like them to have their hair one length (without bangs), I've decided we're going to have to opt for a pageboy cut until they're "responsible enough" to wear a barrette...and further "responsible enough" not to pull each other's barrette out, too. (I think that last one is a "twin thing".) (Oh, and some people might call the pageboy cut a "mullet", but I'm not going to dignify that with a response.) :)

An Age-Old Philosophical Question

I’m so thankful that I decided to use baby sign language with the girls. It’s just amazing for them to be able to “talk” to me.

In addition to some of the more basic signs, the girls have a solid vocabulary of things around the house…things we see and hear quite often. They love to name animals we see in the backyard and things we spot on our walks.

Of all the signs they know, “airplane” seems to be their favorite. We live near a small airfield, so we have planes flying over several times a day. No matter what the girls are doing…eating, drinking, laughing, crying, or playing…they will immediately stop and stick their little arms out to their sides at the first sound of an airplane. And it’s all the better if we happen to be near the window – or better yet, outside – so we can see the airplane, too!

Their dogged determination at signing “airplane” begs a question in my mind:

In the spirit of “if a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there, does it make a sound”…”if an airplane passes and the babies are in their cribs, maybe settling into or just waking up from a nap, do they stick their arms out?”

…makes me wish we had a video monitor.

Fab 5 Friday

Here goes another fabulous week on the books with my two favorite sidekicks!

1) We took the girls for their first ice cream cone on Saturday! (And yes, that’s ice cream cone [singular], as this was one thing we made them share. It was cute and fun and they enjoyed it, but I didn’t want to put them in a sugar coma!)*

2) We laced up the girls’ new kicks and went for a little walk on Saturday night, the four of us, hand in hand. Pure joy.*

3) The weather has been ahhh-mazing (as my friend Jenny likes to say), and the girls and I have gotten out for a walk every day this week. Most of the time we’re moving at a fast clip, but we have to stop and speak to our friends scattered throughout the neighborhood now and again. That usually derails any attempt at setting a new speed record, but it’s so wonderful to live in such a nice community.

4) The girls learned the sign for “monkey” this week. This has made reading Curious George that much more fun!

5) Honestly, we’ve had some trying times this week. In hindsight, I now realize that with Daddy home on Spring Break last week, the girls got a lot of attention…all the time…every day. So this week, when Mommy needed to clean the table after breakfast, for example, pandemonium ensued from the girls’ perceived neglect. :) We’ve had to readjust to “quiet time”, which hasn’t been very “quiet”. :) Even still, I’ve had a few random moments where I just felt so blessed…blessed to have my girls…and blessed to be here with them. Even amid the not-so-quiet time, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

*This is probably the third post in as many days in which I’ve mentioned ice cream and the girls’ new shoes. I don’t mean to drone on, but this is a weekly rap-up of fabulous stuff, and those items just continue to rate in my book!

Through the Eyes of My Laundry Basket

I once read that you can tell a lot about a person from their laundry room. (Well, I didn’t actually read that, but I’m pretty sure it’s true.) The girls are only 15 months old, and I realize that my laundry basket has already experienced quite the ride.

Before the girls were born, I meticulously washed each sweet little gown, every precious dress, and all the tiny pairs of socks, separated into many, many loads, by color. I remember thinking those newborn onesies were so tiny, and then I washed them, and they looked even tinier! Doing the babies’ laundry then was so novel and so much fun…and I felt so organized, folding everything just so.

For the first few weeks after the girls came home from the hospital, even amid the sleepless days and nights, my vigilance remained. I treated the smallest stain, even on burp cloths and wash cloths.

Eventually, as my hands began to dry from the OxiClean, I abandoned the need to treat stains on burp cloths and wash clothes, but my focus remained keen on any and all outfits and bibs.

When the girls were four months old, we began feeding them solids. The laundry evolved from having spit-up stains to giant globs of sweet potatoes and green beans. For the sake of my dry hands, it was at this point that I “invested” in some cheap-o onesies and bibs that I wouldn’t mind getting stained, although I continued to relentlessly pursue stain removal on all outfits. I also discovered that, by washing out the bibs immediately after the food fight (or, uh, meal), they required less treatment.

It was in the baby food phase that my wardrobe had to change, too. After having amassed an impressive collection of yoga pants and tops, I took to wearing the grungiest t-shirts and sweats I could find. The girls’ ability to blow sweet potatoes and green beans could leave quite the “impression”.

Eventually, the girls became pretty proficient with the baby food, and – while I wish I could say I broke them of the habit – at least I learned to somewhat anticipate their food blowing and seek cover accordingly. I began to dress them in outfits again, and I dusted off my yoga pants from the bottom drawer.

As with so many things, when I begin to feel a rhythm in one area, something else changes, upsetting the apple cart, which of course results in saucy apple stains…

Over the past couple of months, the girls have graduated to “big people food”, and a little more recently, to feeding said “big people food” to themselves. And so they’re back to wearing the cheap-o onesies. I’m still in yoga pants, as meatballs don’t lend themselves to “blowing” in the same way that pureed sweet potatoes do.

But I fear that the next chapter in the Tales from the Laundry Room may involve me mending some holes in the knees of my yoga pants. I seem to spend a lot of time these days crawling around on the floor cleaning up thrown (or, uh, inadvertently dropped) spaghetti.

So what’s next? I guess only time – and my washing machine – will tell.