Twin Speak--FOR REAL

In preparation for twins, I read lots of blogs about the magic of their special friendship. Twin speak was one thing I really looked forward to--the special language concocted between them.

There were a couple hiccups with this for my twins.

We enjoyed their babble before their first words. Addy caught onto English first, while Ella struggled with ear infections for three consecutive months. Once we cleared it up, though, Ella took off. The more Ella talked, the less Addy did. Addy was always shy but friendly. What we noticed is she preferred speaking without words--touch was her love language, though she rarely sat still enough for hugs. She wasn't concerned about talking. After all, why would she need to when Ella spoke for both of them?

What about this twin speak?

Fast forward to them now, age 3.5. You see my girls are very independent. Sharing was a struggle at first (and sometimes still is), but they have an unusual understanding: they exchange toys constantly. If one of them takes a toy, the other finds a new one, and then they'll switch. And while they do this, they DON'T speak at all. So odd.

We occasionally take walks to the park--where they now pull the wagon, rather than ride inside--and when they play on the playground, they play independently. Then Ella will say, "Come on, Sissy." They'll roll down the hill, giggling. Without a word, they'll make their way then over to slide and jiggly bridge. They crawl underneath and play with the stones. They point and look at each other, then look back at their own stones. AND DON'T SPEAK.

Then the other day, we had an actual fight. With screams and hitting. A rare occurrence in my house.

For once, Addy was to blame, so I squatted down beside her and told her to tell her sister sorry. She glanced shyly at me and muttered, "No." We did this three times, and finally, she reaches her arms toward Ella and mumbles some unidentifiable words. Ella stares at her and says something back. Then they hug each other and rush off together, friends again.

Finally, after 3 and a half years, I witness twin speak.

I have no idea what Addy said, nor what Ella replied, but whatever it was, they came out loving sisters again. <3

Four Hour Road Trip

So I'm completely procrastinating cleaning my house, especially since I just picked it up two hours ago and then again right before we left for vacation.

I want to share with all of you--and prove to my sister why it's important to document these events--my trip to see the Quigleys in Zion, Illinois. Located right at the border of Illinois and Wisconsin, Zion has gorgeous sights, including a rocky beach with the Chicago skyline across Lake Michigan. It was exquisite.

We left at dinnertime on Friday night and traveled I-294 most of the way. Our son, 5yo Rudy D., did not sleep a wink, even though we didn't reach our destination until at least 10:30 our time. He was so excited to see Kati and Brian's new house and his cousin, Tom (not Xander, though he called Tom "Xander" or "Tommy" every time he opened his mouth). But his favorite part of the trip was this sunset.

My husband was on Day 19 of the Whole 30 diet, and luck would have it that my brother-in-law was also trying the diet out. When we put the kids to bed, Rudy whips out a jar and fills it with the necessary ingredients to make Whole 30 mayo. Kati and Brian furrow their brows. Yeah, right. Rudy takes out his little wand, a hand blender, and less than a minute later, hands Brian a jar of mayo. Bam! It was like magic, and I tell you Rudy had won their admiration with that little trick. Rudy also made Brian Whole 30 ketchup as well. 

One of the most irritating things when you travel to a different time zone is the kids' sleeping habits. So after finally getting to bed at midnightish (can't remember if that was Chicago time or Eastern time), I then woke up at 8 a.m. Which was AWESOME! Until I realized that was our time. :(

After Kati gave her son a bottle at 6:30 a.m., she came down to hang out with us until 8 a.m., while our husbands slept. (Yes, we really love you, Rudy and Brian). The best part was she had a tv with the Disney Channel, so my kids locked eyes with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse while Kati and I chatted, looking gloriously frumpy in our pjs, lack of makeup (well, I don't think we wore any all weekend. hehe), and purple bags under our eyes.

Then she pulled out the ancient traditional coffee machine, and I handed her the coffee grounds I'd bought. Fresh brewing coffee filled the house and even roused the boys from sleep (my hubby needed some extra nudging from bouncing children).

About 20 minutes from Zion is a quaint town with a beach, splash pad, sandy park, and a gorgeous view of Lake Michigan. Kenosha. A fence and short wall enclosed the sandy park with Lake Michigan beyond. The kids had a blast, and the parents could actually sit back and relax (except me; I had to take a bunch of pictures).

 Hubby did NOT want me to take this picture. Too bad. LOL ;)

The best parts of Kenosha--well, for the adults--were the farmer's market and bubbles.

After all the fun, we put the kids to bed and finally enjoyed some adult only time. First, we had a bonfire and lovely conversation with Kati's neighbors. So much laughing and amusing story time.

Even Rudy D. got to share in the fun for a little while.

But then it was time to send the neighbors home and play the ultimate board game, Ticket to Ride. Brian won, though I think I had the most number of completed routes. :)

The next morning was a rough one. Addy was up at 6 a.m. (5 a.m. our time) and would not go back to sleep--not in our bed, nor hers, nor the couch. I tried to get her to watch a movie or tv, while I slept on the couch. Needless to say, I was exhausted by the time we left (around 10 a.m.), and it rained. The. Entire. Drive. Home. A couple times, Rudy or I had to almost pull over, because we couldn't see.

My dad would be proud. We literally were "Riding the Storm Out" and brought it home with us. And boy, did it storm! 

I miss them already. My son already asks when he can go back. Ella runs around yelling, "Beach." 

But the good news is Kati and her son, Tom, are coming to visit! I can't wait. I believe we both have massage rooms with our names on them. ;)

Thanks for the memories, Kati and Brian!

Losing My "Super"

My blogging has taken a backseat to my chaotic personal life.

Potty-training successes and relapses. Summer vacations and sports (including the kids' first ever swim lessons). All this built up to taking my boss's hours at our daycare last week, so she could enjoy a summer vacation.

This summer has been wonderful. I've really enjoyed the fenced-in backyard and new house, as well as our Y membership (though I've yet to use it to exercise) and pool.

But one fact is clear. This SuperMom is losing her superpowers.

I've learned that no child is the same. I've known that for a long time, experienced it in teaching, but it wasn't until I've raised three different children that I LIVED it.

Rudy D. was a passionate and sensitive child, eager to please. He's loved books and would beg me to read them over and over until he had them memorized. He loved playing by himself, racing with me down the street, and doing whatever he could to make Mom happy. Potty-training was easy. Discipline not so much. But once we passed the 2s, the 3s proved easier (or maybe it seemed so, because I had twin one year olds to chase around).

Enter the twins. From day 1, they've been so different and so similar. The best way to describe them is unpredictable. Some moments, they're cuddly and cute, giggling in a way that melts your heart. Then the next, one is screaming and hitting, while the other is throwing everything within reach on the floor. I open the front door to load them in the car, and they follow each other 1-2 doors down and laugh when you order, ask, threaten, and bribe them to come back. The only thing that works is to go down on your knees with your arms out wide and yell, "They call me 'Mister Pig.' Ahhh!" (Lion King).

We have successful potty-training days, where no diapers are needed. Then we have days, where they've gone everywhere--from their carseats and strollers to our wooden floors. It's enough to drive a person utterly insane. And I've spent most of my summer alone with them. Though my husband has had more evening and weekends off, but up until last week, I was working one day a week.

I've been distracted and exhausted all the time. On my computer for writing/editing, Facebook to stay connected with other adults, and my email. We played outside. We went to the zoo. But I was so, so exhausted. It's nonstop trashing and cleaning, running around after them, cleaning up after them, and then the house...I was embarrassed how behind I was. I tried to just keep the main level of the house clean, but I'm vacuuming and sweeping at least twice a day. I'm throwing laundry and toys down the stairs to the basement, and then every evening, somehow, the house looks like a tornado spewed everywhere.

My super has drained from me. My powers dissolving beneath the terror of my twins.

I even passed some of my super to my son, who has learned to vacuum the carpet and pick up the living room. But then it hit me--and crushed me--my son is starting kindergarten. My sweet, loving, adorable helper will be going to school, starting a brand new journey with unexplored worries and fears for his mom. And on Sunday, I taught his Sunday School class for the last time (I'm moving up to the older kids' class). While we curled up on the couch watching HOME, I cried.

I mourned losing my baby, my helper, to the real world with its problems. I mourned losing my SuperMom powers. I mourned the reality that I'm not in control. And then I prayed.

I'm getting excited now for my son. He's got an amazing teacher and is going to a wonderful school. We went back-to-school shopping, and he picked out a new backpack. And he made me promise to send him with a picture of me in case he misses me.

I'm not a SuperMom anymore. I've lost my Super--my powers. I focus on today and today alone. I focus on survival and meeting everyone's basic needs. I focus on love.

And if there's one aspect of my Superpowers I haven't lost, it's love. There not one person in my house that doubts my love for them, and they reciprocate it in hugs and kisses, giggles and dancing. That's all I need for today.

Behind my Blog Name

Monday was a perfect example of why I named my blog "Writing" Mom.

After waking up once with Addy and then Rudy D., Ella woke me up around 6:30 a.m. No surprise--I was half-awake. But how do you ignore this little angel, saying "breakfast" over and over again?

Our day consisted of kids watching cartoons while I picked up the house, did two loads of dishes, etc. Then we turned the tv off and played until 11 a.m. Mommy's show--The Price is Right. While I made lunch, I caught glimpses of my show. Anytime there was a car, Plinko, or spinning the wheel, my son called me over, and we watched, cheered, and hugged each other. (It's one of my favorite things we do. Reminds me of watching it with my own mom.)

Normally, we do quiet time after lunch, but we took their dad his lunch. By the time we started quiet time, it was 2 p.m. The twins played in their room while Rudy D. played Wii Sports in the basement. I was super excited to sit down and work, since everyone was content. I'm sharing my testimony soon, so I needed to start that first. I typed up about 5 out of the 9-12 pages and put it aside. Then I got to work on Ch. 3 of SAVING KENTÁN. I only got about 400 words written when I smelled it.

You guessed it. POOP. My nemesis in the Writing Mom world.

(If you're squeamish with poop, skip this paragraph) Not only did it cover both girls' hands and feet, but they'd formed a solid mound on the floor. It looked like a freaking ball of clay they smoothed on the floor. I was furious. But I held it together. I let them know they were both in big trouble and carried them out one at a time, scrubbing them with soap and water before putting them in the bathtub. Then while they played in the bathtub, I set to work on the floor. Ugh. You can imagine. It took 3 separate steps to get the floor clean. Then I cleaned the tracks the girls made in their room. Lastly, I scrubbed the girls, got them dressed, and put away my computer.

This my friends is why I've been in a dry spell. Dry--not because I have nothing to write--instead because I have no time or energy. I haven't worked (subbing or daycare) much lately due to vacation, snow days, house appointments, and sick children (and myself). Even my writing days on Thursdays give me maybe 2 hours. But when I have it, I pour myself into my writing and am thrilled at the results.

At my writing group last night, I shared a section of chapter 1 of SAVING KENTÁN. Their feedback was so wonderful. (It was a first draft, so not perfect) Though they were confused what was happening and how this new world operated, they were mesmerized by the flow of the story and how the characters connected and wanted to know more. 

I can't tell you how great it is to hear that. So often I start to doubt my talent and my ambition, but I love writing and grow frustrated when I don't make time for it. After reading a friend's blog about her struggle to be a full time mom/homeschool teacher and writer, I knew I needed to make time for my writing. Even if it's only 20 minutes. Because after I finish, I feel alive in a way that only comes from writing and using my gift.

So here's my real life example of the story behind the "WRITING MOM." :)

The Twins vs. Potty-Training/.

Here are the perpetrators:

Ella Bella--age 2 (almost 3)

Vocal and expressive: you always know what she's thinking, and she's quick to tell you if she needs to pee. Drinks all the time (prefers apple juice), so she has to pee...ALL THE TIME.

Adelyn, aka Addy--age 2 (almost 3)

Quiet yet sneaky: always climbing, dumping whatever she can get her hands on, and yells "no" if you catch her needing to use the potty. Will sit on the potty if you bribe her with candy, but she waits until you turn your back to pee all over the floor.

Here's the situation:

My grandma is awesome. She's that kind of grandma that doesn't just watch your kids while you go to the dentist but has lunch and snacks ready for you when you return. When I was growing up, she smothered me with hugs, and I always knew how much she loved me.

Fast forward to last week. Since we don't see each other much, she tries to help out however she can, whether it be cassette tapes on parenting, plastic covers for potty training, or more recently, newspaper clippings on parenting advice.

So when my mom handed me one such article, I was shocked. Was my grandma rubbing off on my mom? My mom always gives me house clippings, so when she handed me one on potty training, I thought, "This must be really good if my mom is giving it to me." (Yeah, it was from Grandma)

The article was a letter written to a child psychologist, detailing her potty training frustrations. Her 31-month-old (mine are 35 months) refused to go to the potty when she asked her and wet herself before she could get the girl's clothes off. This infuriated said mom.

The psychologist saw three problems. First, the mom was asking her daughter if it was time to use the potty. Asking a question that was clearly obvious is setting her up for a fight. If mom asks, the daughter is ready to fight mom tooth-and-nail over said question. Problem 2, daughter shouldn't be wearing so many items of clothing that she cannot take them off ON HER OWN (WHOA! Mind blown.). Problem 3, mom's anger is fueling daughter's rebellion.

I was stunned. I was guilty of all 3 of these things (though, I should state my daughter is not ill-dressed, but I've never had her take off her own pants to use the bathroom). So I made a decision then and there to fix these problems. I started right away.

I "told" Addy it was time to use the restroom. She balked, throwing herself on the floor and crying. I knelt down next to her and said, "It's time to go potty. If you don't come with Mommy, you will get timeout." When she saw I was serious, she stood up and went to the bathroom. She took off her pants and climbed up on the toilet. To my complete shock, she started going pee. I started to cheer, but she said, "No," so I waited until she was done before praising her. Amazing!

That day she was 5/5. No accidents. The next day, I put underwear on her, and she kept them dry all day. This child is doing awesome...considering she'd go on the potty maybe once a day.

Now, I'm not perfect, and neither is Addy. We've had accidents and anger and rushing, but she's doing so well. I never thought changing these three things could make such a big difference. Makes me wonder what else I need to change. But that's a whole other post. ;)

What a crazy Mommy Writing World!

The Twins vs. The House Showing

It started off a normal Tuesday. I knew there was a chance of a showing the house, because my realtor was working on scheduling someone interested. I dropped off my son at preschool and took the twins home. I picked up a few things but spent most of the time, playing with my girls. Terrified of arriving late, I readied the girls and loaded them in the car. I pulled into the carpool lane and received the email: Showing at 3:30. In four hours.

I was actually thrilled I had four hours to get ready. That's plenty of time. Ha!

By the time I picked up my son, pulled into the drive, and made lunch, it was noon. Okay, three hours. I could do this. Kids in rooms for quiet time. I went into Turbo cleaning mode.

There was a lot more picking up to do (did I mention my twins are dumpers? They dump everything. Clean it back up again, dump it, and run.). There were dishes to do, cake crumbs to sweep up, and counters to wipe down. Every few minutes, I ran by the twins room...just to check. Ella (pretty much done potty-training) went pee in her potty, so I took care of it and went back to work. Made my son's bed and my bed, packed some of our shower stuff and other toiletries, and checked on the girls. Still good. It was time to tackle the basement.

Thankfully, the basement is pretty easy. Swept the carpet, threw the toys in the toy chest, and swept up cobwebs in the laundry room. My son even helped me put things away. All I had left was to vacuum the upstairs carpet, and it was 2:30. I was so close.

Anyone else hear a warning bell, like Genie on Aladdin? "Warning, warning."

When I stepped into the kitchen, I smelled it. Poop. "No," I gasped. I left the vacuum in the kitchen and booked it to the twins' room. Sure enough. Both girls were naked. Both of their hands bearing proof of my fear.

My reaction was not godly nor calm. I'm fairly sure if we'd had a dog, it would've been whimpering from my shrill high-pitched shrieking. Addy burst into tears, and I didn't blame her. Ella had left handprints down her back and in her hair. "Ella, no! Look what you did to Sissy. Icky! No!"

Ella faced me, her eyebrows raised in surprise (yeah, right!), and she stated calmly, "Sorry, Mommy!" Well, sorry didn't cut it. I just left her there while I tended her sobbing sister, afraid to see the damage done. The smell was bad enough. I didn't know what to do. I didn't have time to give them both baths, scrub down their room, wash the bathtub, and get out of dodge in an hour. Instead, I settled for standing over the sink, and in 20 minutes, I had both girls clean, dressed, and loaded in the van with their brother to watch Aladdin.

Too chicken to tackle the room, I vacuumed the carpet and made sure everything else in the house was perfect. Then I surveyed the wreckage. Too my astonishment, it wasn't so horrible. Having cleaned up the twins left me with little to clean up. I snatched up Lysol wipes and scrubbed down the plastic bed frames and little potty (which contained most of the mess). Then I frantically ripped off the old bedding and remade the beds (thankfully, I saved that for last).

Everything was perfect...except the smell. That's when I remembered a can of air freshener beneath the kitchen sink. I started in the twins' room and ran throughout the upstairs, spraying the sweet scent of Apple Cinnamon. When I finished, I walked through the upstairs one more time to make sure I got out all the smell. I hopped in the car and took off to join my mom at my sister's house. It was 3:07 p.m. I made it!

Needless to say, if all the showings are that exciting, this may be a really long stage of life.

But at least it made a good story to share with you.

What's your craziest house showing you had?

House For Sale

It's official. Our house is on the market.

Kids playing in the snow with the For Sale sign in the background.

And I can tell you it's been a process getting our house ready to sell. Lots of packing. Lots of decluttering. Lots of projects.

Our house is small--a perfect starter home. I adored it. Real wood floors. Bright kitchen with yellow countertops (I'm in love with yellow and white kitchens) overlooking the dining room. And a basement with great storage and a finished space for playing or movies. It was perfect. Until I had twins. 

Going from one to three children was ridiculously crazy. You expect your toys and baby stuff to multiply when you go from one to two children. But when you go from one to three children...your house explodes with double everything. I thought once we got out of the baby phase, we could donate our baby stuff (yeah, we're done having kids) and go back to the perfect fit in our cute house. 

Nope! The older the kids get, the more toys, clothes, and miscellaneous knick-knacks we accumulate. I started sorting and bagging baby clothes and toys, lovingly unloading them on friends and families, but it didn't help. With each new birthday and Christmas, I unpacked more and more random objects. I began to think I was crazy. Other people have multiple kids with the same amount of crap--er, blessings, so what was I doing wrong? My mom had the answer. "Your house is too small."

I tried to argue. I had the perfect home in a picture-perfect neighborhood, a mere walk from the park and Dairy Queen (and Kroger). My neighbors are awesome and adore my children (seriously, one of the older ladies in our neighborhood still brings the kids suckers from the bank and drops them in our mailbox). We have a spacious attic and plenty of storage in the basement. What more could I need?

It wasn't until I started looking at other houses closer to our church I realized it. My family was growing and needed more space. The kids needed their own bathroom, bigger closets, and their own play space. I fought it for a long time, clinging to my first home, and now that we've fixed it all up, it's even harder to say goodbye, because it looks so good! 

So why move? My son is five years old now and starting kindergarten in the fall. Having my background in teaching, I am a bit particular in what school I want my son to attend. I also want to be closer to my church (where I work once a week at our drop-in daycare) and to my parents' farm. So after many hours painting, changing electrical sockets, sorting and packing, and scrubbing my hands raw, our house is officially on the market...and has been for over a week. We've had two showings so far, and each time, I'm overwhelmed with anxiety (can I get the house clean and kids packed in time?) and sadness. I'll miss this house and chapter of our lives.

Coming next...the reality of house showings and twin three-year-olds potty-training. Yeah, you can see where this is going. Sigh...

Loss

I'm 31 years old, and yesterday, I just celebrated a long-time friend turning 31 as well. I love being in my 30s. I've really settled into the woman I am and stopped judging myself for not living up to the worldly norm. After having 3 children (2 of which were twins), I chose to accept my body would never be the same as it was in high school or college. What I didn't expect was my husband loving it all the more, but I digress.

When you're 31, life takes a new turn. You feel alive and excited for the blessings you have--a roof over your head, a steady job, real relationships with people you can trust (so less drama). The last thing you expect to experience is loss. Death. Of another person in their 30s. A friend.

For my Facebook friends, you already know this. A dear friend of my husband's passed away the first Friday of 2015. Dan Trick was a friendly and accepting guy. One of the first times I met him was at a CR (Celebrate Recovery) dinner. I shuffle in with a stroller carrying my twin 2yos and a 4yo at my elbow. I scan the room for an empty table, where we won't bother anyone. But Dan waves us over to his table, calling out to my husband to join their table. My face turns red I'm sure, but I sit down and avoid eye contact. (I'm still working on accepting children as messy, loud, loving creatures and not giving shame/embarrassment a foothold) Dan immediately engages me in conversation, asking about the twins and sharing stories my husband has shared with him. I am amazed how wonderful this guy is. It's not everyday my crazy family/life is accepted and welcomed (I mean when they ate that night, they made a mess). Dan didn't care. Every Monday night after, I looked forward to shaking his hand and getting a sympathetic smile from him.

And now...I won't. I didn't know Dan well. I wasn't nearly as close to him as my husband was. My husband received a Facebook message from Dan the night before he died. His family even asked my husband to conduct the memorial service (his first). But I still miss Dan. I still have moments where I'm close to tears. Loss...death...in your 30s is hard. You think you finally have the life thing figured out--family, career, bills, and other responsibilities--and then you fly into a brick wall. It hurts (it breaks things), but you eventually begin the healing process and vow to keep a better eye out.

What I'm left with now isn't a reminder to hold my loved ones close and enjoy each moment I have with them (though I do), because to be honest, I was already doing that. I'm aware of first impressions. I usually have horrible first impressions of people, but I'm working on it. Dan's impact on me was based on a first impression. He cut through my issues and accepted me as I am. That's what I'm taking away from his life. I want to be that way. I want to love and accept people beyond their issues. Life is hard. It hurts. But I want to be a star in a dark sky and bring light to the hurting and lost. Maybe even a smile to someone who's having a rough time.

Loss is hard at any age.

It's what you take away from it that can change you for the better. And bring light to our dark world.