Skipping Town

Last weekend, we drove down to Maryland to meet Luca, our new nephew. Lucia was very excited to meet Cousin Luca, especially since the trip also included time with Aunt Molly, Uncle Ian, Gra, and Pop-Pop. This was the first big trip we’d taken with both kids, and it wasn’t easy. Lucia was great in the car, but Greta spent much of the time screaming. In the middle of a long screaming session, Andrew made a left turn in a bus lane when we got to Silver Spring and got pulled over instantly; I leaned over to the window and told the cop that please, we really couldn’t stop, we had to feed the baby. It wasn’t even a lie; Greta was desperate. He told Andrew to be more careful and let us go. In the hotel, however, things were better. We’d gotten two adjoining rooms and put the two pack-and-plays in one of them—and Greta slept better than she has for weeks, waking up just once at 3:30 to nurse. It was bliss. Cousin Luca was, of course, the star. He felt as light as a feather comp...

Dear Littlest One, Have you really been with us for six months? It seems like we just brought you home from the hospital, a squalling (or, in your case, snorting) newborn. Because you are the second child, I see you as a baby—a much younger baby than you actually are. You surprise me constantly with the things you do. There is no time for me to guide you through each milestone; you just get there on your own, casually. You’re going to crawl across the room one of these days, before I know it. This month has, unfortunately, brought about a disastrous turn in your sleeping. From the very beginning, you were a good night sleeper—but in the past six weeks or so, you’ve started waking up more (two or three times a night), and, worse, staying awake. You’re in a mini-crib right next to our bed, so if you’re awake, I’m awake. You kick your legs into the air and slam them down; you toss from side to side so that the zipper on your sleep sack bangs against the crib; you shriek and ...

Saturday we spent the morning at Prospect Park; we got lunch at the farmer’s market, set out a blanket on the Great Lawn, and just enjoyed being outside. Lucia and Andrew kicked a ball around; Lucia collected various things; Greta chewed on various things. Saturday night, we bravely ventured out for dinner—not too far, of course, just to a nearby pizza place. It went pretty well, though as the meal progressed and the restaurant got busier, Lucia got a bit overexcited. Happily, this restaurant has a big window where kids can watch the pizzas being made, and the chefs hand over small balls of dough for the kids to play with. Of course, Lucia loved this. We’d taken the double stroller, and Lucia refused to get on for the walk home, solidifying our resignation that we’re going to have to buy a “real” double stroller at some point (i.e., a stroller into which we can firmly strap an uncooperative child). By the time we got everyone home and bathed and in bed, we were exhausted. We both had a...

Dear Little One, Two and a half! Halfway through two! This is a big one. You’re getting so grown up. You have a mind of your own, which is usually fun (the things you say!) and occasionally enraging (the tantrums you throw!). We have high highs and low lows. There are days we spend playing and giggling, and there are days that leave me weary. Twice in the past month I’ve had to turn the TV on in the morning or afternoon to calm either you or I out of a rage. You can be insistent and intense, and usually I can handle it. But your little sister hasn’t been sleeping very well, and sometimes I just can’t get past the exhaustion. Fortunately, most of the time, we have fun. I say “we,” because we do plenty of playing together—tea parties, reading books, Play-Doh, play food. But this month you have really been playing a lot on your own. I’m always near you, in the same room, ready to comment or participate; but you are very often completely absorbed in your own little world. This world involv...

It was a fun Easter this year. The holidays keep getting more entertaining as Lucia becomes more aware of them, and I know they’ll only get more fun once Greta gets into them, too. This year’s Easter celebration started on Friday, when some friends and I organized an egg hunt for our two-year-olds at the park. Lucia had a great time. While a couple of the other kids preferred to just run around the park, Lucia set out with a singular focus: to collect eggs in her new bunny bucket. She loved finding them; she was less interested in opening them. And, of course, an interesting stick was the best thing of all. Saturday, we went out to Coney Island with friends to play in the sand. Lucia was so excited to be at the beach, and she immediately pulled off her socks and shoes and ran to the water—only to find that it was painfully cold. Once we warmed up her toes and got her shoes back on, she had fun playing in the sand and collecting shells in her bucket. Saturday night, I put together the g...

Today was a big day in our household. First, it was a big day for Lucia: the first time we’ve left her with a babysitter for a long period of time. We had to go out to NJ today for our home inspection, definitely not something a toddler could sit peaceably through, so I found a sitter for her. I was extremely nervous about this event. I had the sitter come for two hours yesterday, so Lucia could get familiar with her. I typed out tons of instructions. Early in the week I ordered a DVD of Olivia episodes to make sure Lucia could watch her show as usual without the sitter having to figure out our ridiculously complicated on-demand cable thing. I showed the sitter where everything was both yesterday and today. I emphasized, many times, the importance of keeping track of Bibi and paw-paw, so much so that before I left today she looked around a bit nervously to make sure she knew where they were. We were leaving Lucia for six hours. (We took Greta with us.) To my surprise, Lucia was fine. S...

Greta’s interest in food has intensified lately to a degree that is almost ridiculous. This morning, Lucia and I were sitting at the table, eating breakfast, and Greta was sitting near us in her activity saucer. She was watching us so intently that she was barely even blinking. Just staring…staring…staring at us as we lifted food to our mouths. Later today, I sat near her as I ate a yogurt, and she looked at me with such a doleful expression on her face that I actually felt guilty for eating it in front of her. And later, as I had yet another snack—this time a meal-snack of two large pieces of quiche—while sitting next to her on the couch, with her propped up on a pillow, she made a lunge for the quiche, so forcefully that she toppled over into my lap. If I hadn’t been right there, she would have fallen off the couch. When I eat in front of Greta these days, I feel like I’m stuffing my face with cake and ice cream and fried chicken and fresh bread while a Dickensian beggar-child looks ...