nobody here but us chickens!

bok, bok, bok, booooook!



Yes, the boys were chickens for Halloween! We had the cousins, their mamas, and Grandma and Grandpa over for lasagna (unless you were Zo*e, in which case you got squash). We took the boys over to some of the neighbors, and J and I offered our backyard eggs to some of the neighbors who signed our special chicken-keeping permit this past spring. The neighbors seemed to like that, and got a kick out of our little chickens. It's not really clear if the boys were hens or roosters, but based on all the talk about egg-laying that's been going on around here, I think hens. No*ah said, "I am Clara, and Ollie is Marcy!" This morning at the park, Ollie made a little nest out of a pile of leaves and pretended to lay an egg in it. In most families, that might be considered odd behavior, but not ours! Three out of 4 hens are laying now, all except for that useless escape artist Susan. That girl had better start earning her keep. Most days we now get three eggs -about enough for Grandma & Grandpa, us, and Auntie Me*gan.


I've already eaten all their Milk Duds, and I think Daddy made quick work of the Kit Kats. Very handy, this sending the kids to the neighbors to beg for candy....




Ollie got a "big boy bed" today, and is sleeping in it as I write. No*ah was kind of jealous, but seeing as he won't even let me leave his crib tent open, I think we'll let Ollie go first with this one.



They look so cute, but I'm almost certain they'd still be yelling and jumping at 10 PM if they were let loose together at night right now. That's what was happening even while tented in before we separated them. When they're a bit more mature, we'll probably have them both together upstairs.

We've had a pumpkin shortage in the Midwest this year, so I made sure to get a nice big one early in the season. The blasted squirrels had it for lunch, the *&$% tree rats. Ollie and I went to our local garden center to get another, and I told him he could pick it out. I was a little concerned that he'd pick a really lumpy or crooked one, but he looked at all of them for the longest time. He finally picked a perfect beauty - I was so proud of him for considering his options so carefully. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, I put that pumpkin just inside the front door until closer to Halloween. A week later, someone pointed out a funny smell, and I picked it up to find that the back had rotted completely. Today, I tried three places, and all were entirely out of pumpkins. The garden center lady said that they're so hard to get that people are stealing them from each other's steps.

I did have some tiny pumpkins left over from the church party we had at our house, and I made tiny Jack-O-Lanterns. Grandma helped the boys make pipe-cleaner "hair".

They seemed to enjoy that, and I was so relieved, because we'd been talking about making a Jack-O-Lantern all week. Whew. Remembering and anticipation are a huge part of their lives all of a sudden - which is a lot of fun, and also complicated. At least we can still eat most of their candy, since they can't count much past ten. Happy Halloween!

chatterboxes

A little story from Oli*ver yesterday:
“I’m gonna dwive dat big twuck all da way to Omie’s house at da big wed bahn, an den I’m gonna pull my bicycle out da back and give it to Omie and den I will dwive my motah-cycle and Omie will have to ride that bicycle very, very fast to come with me! An den we will have pizza and fwench fwies wif mayonnaise! An den I will ride my motah-cycle and No*ah will ride Opa’s twactor, and we will have a race! I will be first. Hooway!”

N watching O fall into the flower bed: “Ollie, watch out for those marigolds!” (we've been having a lot of talks about the difference between ordering and asking...)
O: Those are not marigolds! Those are zinnias! Those are marigolds. And these are morning glories! (He got them all right.)

O amazes me with his eye for detail and ability to remember proper names of things. He knows several birds by call and/or sight, many herbs and plants and as you can see, flowers. He’s very interested in know what comes from what – milk comes from the “uddas” of cows, but somehow, so does butter, cheese and yogurt. That’s all a bit confusing to him, I think, but he gets the general idea. He’s really excited by books that explain things like this – Pancakes, Pancakes! by Eric Carle is a bit hit, as it explains all the things that go into a pancake and where they come from, as are books about nature. O can tell you that the farmer milks the cow, the milk goes into a pail, the pail goes into a tank, the tank gets emptied into a tanker truck, the truck goes to a factory, the milk goes into the cartons there, and then the cartons go to the store and then we buy them “wif da money” and bring them home. Pretty cool. It's amazing what he'll tell you when he can get a word in edgewise, as his brother talks so much faster he often doesn't get to finish his thoughts.

Neither boy has had a single licensed character obsession yet, even though they do read Sesame Street. Thomas, Peter Rabbit and Curious George books and like them a lot, though they don’t watch any TV. They’re just not obsessed with a particular character, though all their peers seem to be. For the moment, real life is still plenty exciting enough. I guess.*
________________

N, giving me a very serious look after I politely moved his bunny aside so I could set my plate in front of me to eat:
“Mama. Please don’t bother my bunny.”

N, upon watching me get dressed in the morning: “Mama is putting on her nipple suit!”

What if Vict*ria’s Secret started calling them that? Do you think they would sell well?

A week ago, I took the boys to get their haircut, to the library, and then to eat at Chip*tle. It’s times like these that I realize how many milestones we’ve hit lately. Getting a haircut was no big deal at all – each boy just crayoned while waiting his turn or waiting on his brother. Afterwards, we made a potty trip, and walked back out to the car. No strollers, no diapers, no diaper bag. At the library, we had to, ahem, pay for a lost board book, and the boys waited in line with me for 15 whole minutes. They sat on the carpet and played with stickers and a piece of paper and then flipped through their new books. They were quiet as church mice. Even a couple of months ago, waiting in line with the two of them for that long would have been all but impossible without the stroller. (I recently read that some local suburban libraries are banning double strollers. Good thing they haven’t tried that here, because we basically wouldn’t have ever gone. The only place that ever wouldn't let me in was the post office- and they actually said something about 9/11! It's a good thing that we now know how to prevent terrorism.) Another milestone on this library trip was the fact that we had an armload full of books, and only a single one was a board book. The rest were all picture books with real stories, in much better shape and in much greater variety than the beat up board books we’ve mostly brought home until now.

N said “We need to leave some for the other children! They might want some too! The library is a sharing place!” What a wonderful tings libraries are - can you imagine if someone just invented them now? I wouldn't be surprised if people would think it was a pie-in-the-sky idea, that it would probably never work.

One of the books we brought home was a Halloween book, which turned out to be much scarier than I’d thought it would be at first glance. That night, about a third of the way into it (with some on-the-fly editing from me already), N flipped the book shut, set it aside, and said “That one’s all done!” Oops. We're dealing with a lot more fears lately - talk of monsters, and "scawy things", and O in particular is terrified of the Lowry Tunnel, of all things.

A little reader participation question – (and you can’t answer this if you already know from Grandma or me). What are the boys going to be for Halloween? Take a wild guess and leave it in the comments below. Hint: they’ll be the same thing, and it is something found in real life.

*Just this very minute, Jo*el informed me that No*ah has been talking all about Mme. Clavel from the Madeline books. Isn't that a little eccentric?


More cwaffs.

I wish the ladies were this talented

but then they might break their eggs!

signs of winter

The Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden, the beautiful enclosed garden where the boys and I have spent several mornings or afternoons, is now pretty much closed for the season. There is one last weekend day that it should be open, and I think we’ll go, but after that, just like every year, the garden will be left to the native flora and fauna until spring, as sure a sign of winter's coming as anything. The 15-acre garden and bird sanctuary, the oldest in the nation, is a bit of a lovely secret. It is surrounded by a high fence and a lockable gate on either end, tucked away in an also beautiful park that has clear views of downtown, but looks like it could be far from any city. J and I were married in that park, in a wooded glade under a giant burr oak. We had our reception at the top of the hill behind it, in a building built in the 1920’s by the Works Progress Administration.

I think it would be fair to say that the location represented the fact that J and I can find God anywhere, but perhaps most easily through witnessing the vast abundance of creation. A church building can’t contain that in the same meaningful way for either of us, though the group of people assembled that day certainly represented what we knew then as our family, related or not. Coming back to the place we were married is a joy – alone or together, and we’ve done it often since that June day seven years ago. Now we’re usually accompanied by two little boys who don’t yet understand the significance of that place for us, but seem impressed by its beauty all the same.

The garden is just behind that glade, up a hill and on the other side of a marsh inhabited by bullfrogs and wood ducks. I think people go to the garden in hopes of seeing a riot of many kinds of flowers – all that abundance in its glory, like you see in the wildflower calendars. In fact, that isn’t really what you find there—Minnesota not being Switzerland,exactly, or even Montana. There are wooded areas, a small marsh, hills and meadows. There are many flowers, rare and common, buzzing with insects. There is a spectacular view at the very top of the highest hill. But what’s really spectacular about this garden isn’t the grand canvass of trees and flowers, but the details. The wild ginger, the mushrooms on rotting logs, the insects that you know must belong to some native plant, but that you’ve never seen before. My boys start to giggle every time they go through the gate, because the path is so springy from the thick layer of wood chips, spread carefully by volunteers to keep us on the path and prevent damage to the garden. The garden is a reminder to me to look – to let down the defenses we city dwellers need to survive the constant assault on our senses. The first thing I usually notice is the wonderful smell of decaying leaves. As I walk, I notice birdsongs, the texture of bark, lichen, and rusty tannin pooled in the marsh, the tiny detailed flowers that would never show up in a landscape photograph.

None of that takes any explaining to my boys – they don’t know how not to see and listen and observe, at least for now.

I love to think about the garden in winter. It must be beautiful covered in snow, its paths unmarred by heavy human footsteps, the birds and other animals growing a little bolder every week as we leave them be for awhile. It must be quite a shock to them when the gates open up again in the spring. When those gates open, we’ll come again, delighted to see the shoots of green promise under the trees and all over the meadow, careful of the birds as they worry over their young, and happy to stretch our legs and amble a bit after a long Minnesota winter. Meanwhile, I’m very grateful to visionaries like Eloise Butler and Theodore Wirth —people who made efforts and choices on behalf of what might happen even after their lifetimes. When my boys are a little older, I hope to teach them about that too, because that was another reason J and I chose this particular park for our wedding. It represented what could happen if a group of people sacrificed and made an effort on behalf of something for a greater purpose than only our perceived immediate needs, having a longer vision than that of our own lifetime. That is, after all, what we do when we set out to build a family.

Isaiah 55:12

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Early October

The boys helped Meag*an plant a tree to replace our lost elm. that tree was so big, you couldn't even see our house on Google Maps. We're also planting a couple of dwarf apple trees (Honeycrisp and Harelson).


The zoo. A while back, I cut a jump rope in half, tied each piece to one side of the stroller, and started asking the boys to hold the handles and walk alongside. Lo and behold they did, and we can walk quite a ways this way, even in a crowd. People always laugh when they see us.

Sometimes they use the highly original phrase "double trouble". I always wonder what would happen if I just start laughing really hard, like I'd never heard that one before. Would that make me look like an idiot, or them? Forgive me if that sounds a little harsh, but I've heard that about 1000 times by now, it feels like. One lady even told me where I could buy a t-shirt that says that. I once heard a mom of one say to her friend as I walked by, "Twins! If that was me, I'd shoot myself in the head!" Trust me lady, you wouldn't. For one thing, that would leave your children motherless, and you, well, dead. Ugh. I get a little tired of the negativity sometimes. It started before they were even born (though friends and family were of course wonderful to us!) Even fellow moms at our Early Childhood class sometimes make it a bit too clear they'd never want twins. I wish they'd keep it to themselves at least - for what it's worth, twins are a lot of work, but so are a lot of things, and they are also a lot of fun. I wouldn't trade the experience for the world, warts and all! They are my children, and I love them, and they are double blessings, not trouble. At least not more than any other healthy two-year olds.


The zoo monorail in the pouring rain.






The wood ducks at the brand-new Minnesota exhibit.

Sometimes Ollie just needs a smooch. I showed him this picture, and now he keeps coming up to me, kissing me, and saying "take a picture, Mama!"


And N needs some good reading for the way home. Sometimes they babble, bicker, or sing away in the car (N's latest version of Jesus loves the little children is Jesus loves the little grownups. Then he sings "Zacchaeus was a wee little man and Ollie shouts "Get down from there!". ) Otherwise it's dead silence, each boy completely engrossed in a book. I cannot tell you how completely in love with books they are. They have a lovely new habit of grabbing a book, sitting on the couch or in a chair, and just flipping through it for a while. The other day, N was reading a book in the car and he was so into it, he didn't want to come out. I picked him up and stood him on the sidewalk, and he walked all the way to the front door with his face still in the book.


Of course, it's even better when grandma reads to them and Auntie J*en and Zo*e come to visit.


Ollie is very proud of his snow boots.



Zo*e is mobile! She scoots all over the place on her tummy.

She's also eating and gobbling it all up. Runs in the family!


"Cwaffs" Both boys have a very rudimentary grasp of using scissors, and they're obsessed with stickers. Especially on the bathroom floor... We finally have a really decent table and chair set, and since we got that we've been doing a lot more crafty stuff. Perfect timing with winter coming. You know, I'm still not certain whether either of the boys are right or left handed. Every time I think I know, they surprise me by crayoning or something with the other hand. If I hand them something in a neutral way, they're both inconsistent. I think that possibly O may be a lefty, but I'm just not sure. I do know that whenever the boys walk hand-in-hand lately, O is on the right.


On Tuesday, Grandma is going to let us have Zo*e all to ourselves for a bit in the afternoon while she goes to the doctor. Yeah!

At the Wildlflower Garden

The beautiful Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden - a gem of a garden that's located right behind the place where we got married. The boys and I have walked most of the trail over the last two Saturdays, some of it in pouring rain, and quite happily.









Well, there was a threat of a sit-down strike about halfway through last time. They both lay down in the path and insisted that they were babies who couldn't walk. (Oh, I just love the "I'm a baby" stage. Almost as much as the "I do it "my byself!" stage that's happening concurrently. Did you know that my boys can drive cars and chop vegetables with sharp knives? Ask them sometime - they'll tell you all about it.)

I wondered how I'd get two boys out of there if they both completely melted down at the same time, but we got our act together. I just sat under a tree and prayed until they asked me whether we could keep going.




Here they're pretending that the bench is a mailbox, and putting "mail" (leaves) through the slats.


A birdbath that had a bit less water in it after the boys were done with it.

We spent part of the same morning playing in the nursery at the church where Daddy works.



Here they're pretending to be "taaaal trees".




A well-earned picnic lunch outside the church, waiting for Daddy to be done so we could all go home. Why does he have to be with all those other kids all the time anyway?

From September

Here are a few shots from September - I'm trying to catch up!

Grandma came over with Zo*e the other day and spent a little time in our backyard until Auntie J*n came to pick her up.



She is such a sweet and happy baby.




And she has such a silly uncle...


That's our faithful Marcy, my favorite hen. I can have a favorite chicken, can't I?


When you're a twin, a see-saw is a beautiful thing.



Doesn't N have beautiful big, blue eyes? I know I'm his mother, but still..

busy, busy

We have a couple of high-energy boys these days. Here's a half-hour at Hiawa*tha Park:

And they're off!


"Mama! Watch me jump!"










Oli*ver prefers to scale the outside of all the playground equipment, climbing right up and over the walls rather than using the ladders or stairs intended for that purpose. He has a knack for making the other parents look at me (mom) and say only, "wow".


I can see straight to, uh, the other side of the playground!







I'm still picking sand out of his hair...