Skipping Town

Dear Baby Grets, Where to even begin with the cuteness? Every day, it’s something new: running up to us with arms outstretched, saying “Cull!” for a cuddle; saying “Hi!” and “Bye!” to anyone and everyone, repeatedly and at a volume too high to be ignored; yelling “Kee!” when you stumble on a Squinkie; walking up quietly with your stethoscope and pressing it to our legs while saying “Thump thump…thump thump…” And, of course, your gleeful, joyful, precious, toothy smile. You are saying new words at a more rapid clip now. Not fully clear—you get the first syllable, but haven’t quite gotten the hang of final consonants—but anyone around you all day (me) can understand what you’re saying. New entries: help, bite, big, fly, chalk, Kee (Squinkie), kie (cookie), cake, snack, round (around), down, out, eye, bird, broom. You love playing doctor. You love when Lucia paints your nails. You love reading books, and you have an amazingly long attention span, just like your sister always ...

Matching ladybug sundresses and front-porch pedicures. How did I raise such cute girly-girls?

Greta now approaches us with her arms spread open, saying “Cull. Cull.” This means “Cuddle. Cuddle.” She comes right up and gives a snuggle. It is cute enough to be almost manipulative. Greta also says “melon” in a hilarious way. She somehow hears the L of “melon” as a difficult stumbling block, so she just keeps sticking her tongue out, saying “mlmlmlmlml,” like she’s lapping up milk. Hilarious. We went to a library book sale last weekend on $5 bag day and brought home a ton of new-old kids’ books. Some have been hits, like The Princess Who Never Laughed and The Poky Little Puppy . I also bought Thumbelina , which I remember liking as a kid, but I read it to Lucia without perusing it first and found it pretty disturbing. That one might get tucked away. Both girls continue to be obsessed with the Barbie accessories I keep in a bin on the porch. They are worth their weight in gold. They are often so absorbed in playing with them that I could easily read the newspaper if I ...

Dear Little One, I’m amazed at how much different you are now that you’re getting so close to four. A real turning point came just after three and a half, and though we’ve had a rough week here and there (and believe me—when they’re rough, they’re really rough), for the most part, it’s a sea change from where we were just six months ago. You’ve always had an enormous personality, but it’s becoming even more entertaining now. You sing and make up songs; you dance; you close your eyes dramatically when you dance; you say things like “There’s only one problem. I have to get my water.” You pick out your own clothes each day, almost always a dress, and accessorize with headbands and jewelry. And you are showing pronounced strains of me: I recently put up my shelf of small things, very small things, and sometimes you look at it and say, “Mama, I love your tiny treasures!” We’ve put two large sections of our new card catalogs in our bedroom until we get the rest of the pieces here, a...

We finally got something accomplished with the house: the curtains in all the bedrooms are hemmed, the broken curtain rods are replaced, and we now have a bona fide outdoor living space on our front porch. Progress! Of course, the only reason we made such progress is that my parents were here all week while Andrew was on a business trip. Dad undertook the curtain project, cutting and pinning and ironing and hemming and running to Target for curtain rods. Mom worked hard as well, endlessly entertaining the girls. Everyone had fun. And when Andrew came home, he assembled the porch furniture, and we gussied it up a little with curtains and a lamp. The girls love the new space. They like to bounce on the chairs and throw the pillows around. Lucia also likes to lounge around on the loveseat, “getting cozy” with her Bibi and favorite pillowcase so she can “have a relax.” “I’ll just get my Bibi and have a relax,” she says. I have no idea where she got this phrase, but Andrew and I ha...

Dear Baby Grets, You’re marching on to two years old at an alarming pace, gaining opinions and preferences with every step. And feistiness. You may be the baby, but you are determined to have a say in this family, and you know how to get our attention. A forkful of food that isn’t the exact bite you wanted is met with a “NO!”—and a fork flying through the air. You throw tantrums when something is taken from you, or when we refuse to give you something or let you do something—screaming, tears, boneless or kicking on the floor. Fortunately, you are ridiculously cute right now. You are trying so desperately to talk; you are trying to jump. You love to dance, and when your favorite song comes on (“Jimmy Crack Corn”), you stamp your feet and give a face-splitting smile. You like to “sing” and spin and clap. You love when Lucia holds your hands so you can dance together. You are back to eating well (sautéed red peppers are a new favorite) and—knock wood—sleeping well. You tend t...

We had to leave. We've been going to New Hampshire together for nine years now, but yesterday, for the first time, we decided to cut our trip short and go home a day early. It was still raining. It was still cold, and getting colder. We'd been freezing the night before, and it was supposed to go down to the thirties. We still had no heat, and the ancient, fire-any-second space heater Andrew found in a closet barely warmed the kitchen, where we huddled throughout the day. We just couldn't face another freezing night, of the girls in layers of clothes and pjs and still waking up with ice-cube hands. So we're home now; we arrived late last night. I feel like we've betrayed the house somehow by leaving early. But being in New Hampshire means fire pits and grilling and eating outside and playing in the grass. Being inside, freezing, every day for almost four days...We'd reached our limit. Even us, who love this place more than anywhere else.

It rained all day today, without a break, and it was in the low-40s. We were housebound and freezing. But we made the most of the day, proving once again that the restorative peace of this place is powerful enough to take effect even when the day involves a trip to Wal-Mart. We knew the only way to survive the day was to get out of the house, so after a pancake breakfast this morning we headed into West Lebanon for some Wal-Mart shopping. It was pouring, and Greta fell asleep in the car, so Lucia and I took a side trip into the Dollar Tree while Greta got a few more minutes of rest. (We emerged with two smiley flower wands.) We bought some rainy-day provisions at Wal-Mart—Play Doh, markers, and paper—and then headed to the local mall, the Powerhouse, where the girls chased each other and ooh’d and aah’d over the mall’s décor of umbrellas hanging from the ceiling. The girls have gotten to a stage where they’re just able to have so much fun together—and it’s not misbehaving exactly, ...

Friday was a rainy day in New Hampshire, but in between the showers we still managed to play outside for most of the morning and part of the afternoon. Lucia and Andrew played baseball (and Lucia actually hit the ball with the bat a few times). Greta threw stones into puddles and splashed maniacally. Lucia threw stones into the pond. Later, when it got too chilly and damp to be outside, Lucia found a bunch of ancient kitchen tools in a drawer and used them to play doctor, testing our reflexes with a honey-stir thing, looking in our ears with an old metal whisk, giving us shots with a wine-bottle-stopper, and “scooping us” (whatever that means) with a tiny metal scoop. Her favorite TV show these days is “Doc McStuffins,” about a little girl who mends her stuffed animals’ injuries, and this has really sparked her pretend-doctor imagination. We ate dinner by candlelight—“It’s like a birthday!” Lucia said—and then enjoyed a quiet (and chilly) evening once the girls were in bed. I wrote...

I love card catalogs. I never gave them much thought until about twelve years ago, during grad school, when I read Nicholson Baker's 1994 essay "Discards," a doom-filled ode to the superiority of actual card catalogues over digital databases. This struck a nerve with me, probably tilted me to the techno-skeptic side of the world that I still inhabit, and, perhaps most importantly, sparked a true affection for card catalogues that remains to this day. A year or so later, I bought a small, lovely card catalogue at the Chelsea Flea Market (sadly empty of cards). I used it as a TV stand for several years, and it is now in the library of our house. I have a small collection of old card-catalogue cards, too, though not even enough to fill one drawer. But now--I have added to my card-catalogue holdings. Last month, the Carnegie Library in my hometown decided to sell their card catalogues--three of them--through a blind-bidding process. Andrew and I visited the library during a...

Lucia and Greta seem to have been conspiring to make dinner-cooking more difficult than usual. As I've said many times, Greta is a fantastic eater--but as she approaches two years old, she's getting just a little more picky. Lucia, always a challenge, generally does eat pretty well, but she's definitely more opinionated (i.e., picky) about what she will and will not eat. The girls have been more or less aligned in their likes and dislikes--until lately. Now, Greta's favorite meal is macaroni and cheese--and Lucia won't touch it. Lucia loves French toast--and Greta, inexplicably, won't let it past her lips. Lucia likes scrambled eggs with cheese; Greta screams at the sight of them. Greta will eat as much salmon as we put in front of her; Lucia will eat it, but each bite is cushioned by five minutes of stalling. Lucia loves sweet potatoes. Greta does not. And on and on. Most of these are basic, basic things--dinnertime staples, the things that I've always been...

Dear Little One, After a couple of weeks of crazy tantrums and surliness, you’re back to your usual sunny, funny self. You’ve had some struggles this month, though, to be sure, including terrible seasonal allergies that had your eyes swollen down to your cheekbones and the whites of your eyes swollen, gelatinous horrors. (When you turned those eyes to me and I saw the swelling for the first time, it was all I could do not to scream.) You love to dance and wear pretty dresses, barrettes, and jewelry. You and Greta have been having a lot of fun lately, especially when Greta willingly goes along with whatever game you’ve come up with. One of your favorites is riding your scooter across the room, dramatically falling off, and then holding out a hand so Greta can “help you up.” You also like doing the Sit N’ Spin while Greta runs around you in circles, screaming. Fun times. You’re happy that the weather’s getting nicer and love playing outside, and though the really nice days ...

Had some good luck at garage sales this morning. My haul: tricycle an armload of pouffy dress-up clothes rain boots for Lucia a large ziplock bag of misc (tiny dolls, cat figurines, etc) ---$15 for all of the above a stack of antique metal molds of some kind, which look like metal muffin cups, which I'd actually been looking for in stores for the girls to use for sand-box cupcake-making ($1 for 6) Pretty good, I have to say. Lucia is fixated on her current favorite dress-up things right now, but Greta seized on an adorable pink getup involving a pink velvet leotard, a puffy tulle tutu attached, and puffy tulle cap-sleeves. I put it on over her clothes, and in this getup we spent the morning outside. Word spread among our neighbors that Greta was outside in a tutu, and we drew a small crowd as she toddled up and down the street, doing her best to follow Lucia, who was zipping around on her scooter.

Now that Lucia picks out her own clothes, her outfits are growing increasingly bizarre and mismatched. This afternoon, though, I actually laughed out loud: she was riding calmly toward me on her scooter, barefoot, wearing a seasonally inappropriate backless sundress, a purple skirt underneath that, a princess crown, some Mardi Gras beads, with an umbrella hooked over her wrist. Too funny.

Though to the untrained ear most of Greta’s words sound like some version of “Aack!!”, you’ll have to believe me when I say she’s adding more words all the time. Here are a few new additions, and some I forgot last time I did a round-up. (I meticulously recorded each new word Lucia said, along with her age when she said it, in her baby book; Greta will have to be content with a somewhat more haphazard blog record.) car (yelled at top volume at any sighting of a car or truck) cat alRIGHT! oh NO! pa (potty) ball (one of her first words that I forgot to record) sand broom fla (flower) bee (for any bug) sit, seat me achoo! hi bye ’night three* *When Lucia is in an open, friendly mood, she will announce to anyone and everyone who crosses our path that she is three. “I’m three!” she says, holding up three fingers. Greta has seen her do this countless times, and she clearly believes that this is what you do when you see a new person. She’ll hurry ...

Ah, bliss. We spent the weekend in New Hampshire, our first trip of the summer. The house had been opened up and cleaned in the week before our arrival, so when we got here Thursday afternoon, there were no dead mice to contend with. The drive had been longer than expected, so we hustled the girls to bed and then settled in for the evening once Andrew’s dad arrived as well. (With two big carseats in our Volvo, we can’t squeeze three adults into one car anymore.) It was a little tough to get the girls inside: Lucia, of course, remembers it here, and she ran straight down the hill toward the pond as soon as she got out of the car; Greta seemed to remember it too and made a beeline for the barn, where she pounded on the door, eager to get to the toys inside. Andrew and his dad got the grill out right away, and we ate burgers and salad in the dining room for our first New Hampshire meal. Friday and Saturday, we spent outside—gorgeous, sunny days, not a cloud in the sky. Lucia and G...

Dear Little Miss, A year and a half--and determined to surmount any challenges of your young age so you can keep up with the rest of us. You are nonstop mischief, climbing, opening, spilling, reaching, grabbing, markering. Nothing is safe now that you can reach up to the countertops in the kitchen, and you know how to open drawers and cupboards. Your mission in life is to climb up and down stairs. Up, you're pretty good. Down--you have a lot of work to do. You have a sixth sense of when we accidentally leave the baby gate open--or latched, but without the extra security latch--and you're up a few steps before I even realize it. Hazards, hazards all around. You yourself require all my attention. Yet I also have your sister. Our days, these days, are more than a little chaotic. But oh, the cuteness. The cuteness! Your giggly, babbling, kissing, hugging cuteness. You have the biggest, toothiest smile, and you flash it at the silliest things: when we eat oatmeal together in the...

It's garage sale season. Whoo-hoo! I know my excitement over this is incomprehensible so many people, including Andrew. But the thrill of the search--the unknown at the end of each driveway--the sparkle of promise laid out on blankets on front lawns all around town--Perhaps this is how some people feel when they anticipate the beginning of a sports season. Two weeks ago, I went to my inaugural garage sale and came away with three bulging black garbage bags full of--well, I had no idea, really, because I didn't look inside. I heard the woman say they contained her daughters' Barbie collection, and that she'd give me all of it for $5 total, and that was that. I stuffed them in my trunk and began the excavation on the front porch when I got home. And--it was a bust. I don't often say that; I don't often gamble so unwisely. My mystery purchases are usually rewarding, often amazing. But this time, even I had to admit it was a lot of junk. Much-loved junk, to be sur...

It's been a long week. Andrew left for Mexico City on Monday morning, leaving the three of us facing a week by ourselves. Logically, I don't know why it makes so much difference when Andrew's away. Of course we all miss him, but logistically speaking, I have only a couple of hours per day by myself when I would have had his help. But those extra hours really do make a world of difference, because he's here for all the all-hands-on-deck stuff. Getting my contacts in in the mornings seems like an insurmountable challenge when I'm also trying to do all the kid-morning craziness. Forget about taking a shower. And bathtime and bedtime alone...Lots of women I know do bathtime/bedtime alone every single night. I'm spoiled, I guess, but four nights in a row is a killer. It didn't help that Lucia has been in a three-and-a-half-year-old tailspin the past couple of weeks, throwing an uncharacteristic number of screaming fits and just generally being edgy and unpredic...

Dear Sweets, Three is fun. It's a testament to you that I'm saying that; after all, I hear so many things about three being a really difficult age. To be sure, we have our moments (this afternoon--yowza). But those moments are few and far between, and the rest of the time you are generally funny and fun. You really like to do things now--do art projects, go places. In response, I'm trying to step up the "structured" things we do each day, introducing new craft projects and outdoor activities. You've responded enthusiastically. So far we've made tissue-paper flowers, created salt-dough "cookies" decorated with elbow macaroni and star pastina, had a riotous bathtime with craft-foam egg cutouts, painted with water, made a cake out of dirt and decorated it with nature treasures. It's all fun for me, too. You have gotten very interested in clothes. You like to choose your outfits, and dress yourself (shirts are a work in progress); during Quie...