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  • Regression, anyone?

     We're back in the saddle, after a lovely vacation week in New Hampshire followed by a weekend's stay in Vermont. Fabulous weather, beautiful scenery, lots to do, and even a bit of relaxing thrown in there. I managed to get several hundred pages of good reading in, which, to me, is the sign of a good vacation. And the girls did remarkably well, all things considered, adapting with aplomb to a slew of new places, people, and situations. 

     

    They were, however, a bit clingier than usual, always wanting to be picked up, and acting particularly attached to me. They've also been doing this weird sort of "baby talk" thing where they say "mama" and "dada" and talk in babbly, indistinct voices. Clio has been espeically prone to this. I would say that it was a result of vacation -- the unfamiliar people, the disruption of routine -- but the fact is, it actually started a few weeks earlier.

     

    Pics after the jump!

     

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  • An Adventure Gone Terribly Awry

    Let me preface this tale by saying that I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE hot, humid weather. I can't stand it. I wilt in it. I am physically and mentally uncomfortable in it. I become cranky and lazy and irritable, and you pretty much don't want to be around me. This is is exacerbated by the fact that we only have air conditioning in our bedroom and the girls' room, and the rest of our house traps heat like a ... a ... heat trap. (The weather affects my ability to construct similes as well.)

     

    Unfortunately, Elsa and Clio are not fans of hot weather either. They've been cranky and whiney and tantrum-y the past few days. In fact, on Saturday, Clio threw a fit of such ferocity that she actually managed to lock herself and Elsa in the nursery as a result. I forget what the inciting issue was, but Clio for some reason wanted to get out of the room, and was trying to open the door while I was changing Elsa. She somehow managed to turn the little lock knob thingy on the doorknob, unbeknownst to me, and when I closed the door behind me to go downstairs and get a particular library book to read to them before their nap, it locked. There are locks on all three bedroom doors in our house, each with separate keys, because the house used to be a rental property, where multiple people lived and each had their own room. But when we bought the house, we were only were given keys to two of them. Guess which one we didn't have?

     

     

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  • Coneheads

    This may sound crazy -- in fact, I can hardly believe it myself -- but our girls had never had ice cream cones until this weekend. They'd had ice cream, mind you; in bowls and on plates next to slices of "happy birthday to you" (their term for birthday cake). But they'd never experienced the sweet, drippy joy that is an ice cream cone on a summer day.

     

    So, while we were out on the Cape this weekend I was hell-bent on making it happen. The friends we were staying with recommended the perfect spot: Four Seas Ice Cream in Centerville, which has been in operation for seventy-five years. That's since 1934 for those out there who, like me, are quick-arithemetic-challenged. (When I saw the sign, I said to Alastair "Wow, so they've been around since, like, the twenties! Or, wait, the forties?") It's apparently a Cape Cod institution, and a quick web search suggests that they invented chocolate chip ice cream and were/are beloved by the Kennedys. So, it seems we chose quite a memorable spot for this important milestone. And, of course, we documented it on film:

     

     

     

     

     

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  • My children keep asking me for drugs

    Since the girls were babies, we've tried not to be too casual about giving them Ibuprofen or Tylenol, saving it for high fevers and obviously intense teething pain that wasn't soothable with ice or baby chew toys. Nevertheless, the girls have come to believe that "mecinin," as they call it, is some kind of panacea* that can cure whatever ails them -- a stubbed toe, a sibling dispute, their displeasure at having to go to bed. "I need mecinin!" they'll wail. Shout. Scream. Like little junkies.

     

    And what can we do? It's not like we're going to give them drugs that they don't need. I try to explain that medicine is only for when they're very sick, or have a fever. (Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Explain things to your toddler very calmly and rationally? Because, you know, they're so open to calm and rational reasoing?) But they're smart enough now to start claiming symptoms they may or may not actually have. Their mouth hurts. They have a boo-boo. They're "a little warm." (My favorite.) It's even trickier when one twin actually does need medicine for something. Because the other one, naturally, wants some, too. Why, when they get equal treatment in pretty much everything, should this be suddenly different? Hell, I'd be confused, too.

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  • Remember Us?

     

    This weekend, Alastair played at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, and the girls and I spent the day there with him on Saturday. It was fun, in the way that going to a large, crowded event with two two-year-olds is fun. That is, moments of fun (Clio singing a song of her own invention, the word "happy" over and over again to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle"; Elsa going all Woodstock, playing in the mud with obvious glee) interspersed with moments of aggravation and frustration (Clio refusing to walk from the parking lot into the festival because there's too much mud; Elsa throwing a small fit because we cut her pizza instead of letting her attempt to eat "a big one"). Pretty much your typical toddler event.

     

    Alastair and I have gone to Falcon Ridge together twice before; once in 2000 or 2001, I think, and again in 2005. We camped out up in the field with hundreds of other people, stayed up late around song-swapping campfires, drank voluminous amounts of cheap wine and beer. Obviously, this was before Elsa and Clio were twinkles in either of our eyes. It was just us, and it was all about us, and it was easy. About the most taxing aspect of it was having to trudge to the porta-potties in the middle of the night. Alastair was more into the music part of the event than me, of course, it being his metier and all. (Shocking Confession: I'm actually not that into most contemporary folk singer/songwriter stuff, even though it's what my husband does. Scandal!) But I loved being there for the people-watching, browsing the vendor booths, and hanging out around the campfire with folks at night. It's in beautiful country, too, just west of the Massachusetts border in New York, at the edge of the Berkshires. And, yeah, yeah, all right, some of the music is OK. Especially after some of the aforementioned cheap wine and beer. 

     

     

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  • 'Cation in the 'Burbs

    Some families go to thrill-a-minute theme parks for a spring vacation. Others, to exotic island resorts or cosmopolitan world capitals. As for us -- well, we go to the suburbs. It's where we come from, and where some of our nearest and dearest still live. It's where we are now, and why I probably won't be able to post again until the end of the week. (How will you ever survive?)

     

    We spent a few days in my hometown of Fairfield, Connecticut, where -- fun fact -- portions of the original "Stepford Wives" movie was filmed. It is also the hometown of famed Mac guy Justin Long, tennis up-and-comer James Blake, and sensitive pop sensation / starlet swain John Mayer. You might also have heard of in the news of late as the town that lost its police and firefighters' pensions to Bernie Madoff. In other words: smokin' hot vacation spot!

     

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  • Top 5 Trends for Fall

    With the new season is in full swing, our special Baby Squared trendspotting correspondent -- uh, me -- is here to report on what's hot NOW in the Baby Squared household!

     

    Ice. Not diamonds or crystal meth (Mommy and Daddy would never approve), but the real thing: frozen water, preferably in tiny, bite-size chunks (use the "crushed" setting if your fridge has an ice dispenser) in a plastic cup, to be sucked on, bitten, and dumped on the floor at the girls' pleasure. Nutritious? No. Safe for baby teeth? Probably not. The perfect cure for teething woes and the pre-dinner-hour munchies? Absolutely!

     

     

    Hand holding. Sweet, simple, and oh-so-satisfying, it's all the rage among the Elsa and Clio set. Grab your mommy or daddy and pull them around the house or the yard; your tug is their demand. Or, if the adult of your choice is unable or unwilling, hold your sister's hand. It's just the right size -- same as yours -- and get ready to watch the adults around you melt. Want a cookie? Some ice? Some crystal meth? Twin toddlers holding hands are NEVER denied. (Editor's note: it was actually today at church, after the service, that the girls held hands for the first time. My hands were full, so I told Clio to try holding Elsa's instead. It worked, and Elsa led her around the sanctuary and the reception area, making everyone grin, adding years to old folks' lives, etc. etc. It really was adorable. Until Elsa got tired of it and Clio kept trying to get her to hold her hand again by thwacking her with it repeatedly.)

     

    (Video after the jump!)

     

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  • The 20-month bump

    I'm sure I've said this before, but every few months or so, it feels like the girls make a great leap forward developmentally. They can be cruising along at more or less the same social / verbal / physical level for weeks and weeks, then all of a sudden, they surge forward on the winding path from babyhood to childhood.

     

     

     

    The latest leap seemed to coincide with our recent vacation, (which I think is part of what made it an especially rewarding trip) and was all kinds of fun to experience. The novelty will no doubt wear off soon enough, but there have been some particularly heartwarming and adorable developments.

     

    (More photos after the jump)

     

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  • Off we go, again

    We are about to leave for another week's vacation, this time up to Sandy Island, on Lake Winnepesaukee. Long-time readers (does a year count as long?) will remember that we took the same trip this time last year. And we'll most likely continue to go to Sandy for the last week of summer -- or Week 9 as it's called up there -- for many years to come. Alastair's been going with his parents since he was four, and I've been going on and off (mostly on) since way back when A. and I were college sweethearts. (Can I get an "awww"?)

     

    I'm feeling more relaxed going into this than I have other recent family trips, maybe because I've finally adjusted to the fact that vacationing with two babies/toddlers isn't vacationing as I've always known it, and that's OK. I am prepared. I am at peace. I have no illusions, and am determined to try enjoy it in all its chaos: dining hall meltdowns, sand-and-sunblock-sticky limbs, nights stuck in our cabin, etc. It also is going to be a lot of fun, I think, now that the girls are more person-like and observant, able to interact and explore and enjoy. And, oh yes, I will be accepting any babysitting help that is offered and begging for it if it isn't. (Julia, I know you're reading this!)

     

    I won't have internet access on the island, so I probably won't be able to post for about a week. But please don't go away! Come and read again! Here...I'll create a cliffhanger: the First-Ever Elsa and Clio Current Events Trivia Challenge. But no answers until I'm back. Oh, the suspense!

     

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  • Postcards from the Jersey Shore

    We just got home from our vacation, and I've got many a picture to share. But first, may I just rant totally off-topic for a moment? It appears that the cat sitter we hired, who was supposed to come every other day while we were gone, did not come AT ALL. The cat's food and water dishes were empty, the litter box full, the mail sitting on the porch under the mail slot, untouched and -- most telling of all -- the tip we left for the sitter untaken.

     

    I am absolutely livid, and quite tempted to write the name of the pet sitting service here so all you Bostonians / Cantabridgians / Somervillians, etc. out there can steer clear, and spread the word. But I'm going to refrain until I actually talk to the owner and find out what the deal is. Maybe there was some kind of terrible, tragic emergency. But still. If it had been a two week vacation, we might have come home to a dead cat. Thank goodness she's a resourceful kitty. It looks like she managed to get into the big bag of dry food. And I could swear there was one more bottle of Sauvignon blanc here when we left...

     

    Anyway. This issue aside (grrrr), it feels good to be home. While I'm not particularly looking forward to going back to work -- things have been ker-azy busy lately -- I must admit, in many ways it's a lot easier than running around after the girls all day in unbabyproofed houses. But enough kvetching. Here. Some golden vacation moments:

     

     

    A. encourages Clio to "splash splash splash" at our first trip to the beach. She wasn't a fan of the water, but she was a little less freaked out than she'd been on our trip to the beach at Marion. Baby steps, baby steps.

     

    More pictures after the jump...

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  • Top 5 Cutest Vacation Moments

    So, we've spent the last few days at my aunt's house on the Jersey shore (Ocean City), along with lots and lots of relatives. It was very sweet to bring the girls to a place that is the source of such fond childhood memories for me. My family used to go down every summer for a few days or a week, when it was my grandmother's summer house. Time spent there consisted of long, sunburned days at the beach, playing in the sand and trying to catch the perfect wave on a boogie board; late afternoons reading or playing cards with Grandma on the porch; nights playing miniature golf and arcade games (Skeeball, anyone? Paperboy? OutRun?) and going on rides on the boardwalk.

     

    I'm tired of complaining about how vacations aren't relaxing anymore. They aren't. And it sucks. Indeed. But it's also a whole new kind of rewarding to introduce your children to...well, everything. And, to be fair, grandparents and cousins and aunts were all very helpful with the girls, and A. and I actually did get to sneak away on our own a few times.

     

    Unfortunately, Alastair's got the camera with the pics, and he's on tour in DC while I'm up here in NY at the in-laws' house for a couple of days, so I can't provide a pictoral summary of our adventures, but will do so as soon as A. and I are both in the same state again. In the meantime, I give you the top 5 cutest vacay moments....

     

     

    5. Elsa repeatedly running down the wet sand on the beach toward the ocean, squealing with glee, and then, any time a wave approached, turning around and running in the other direction, saying, "No! No! No!"

     

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  • Babes on the Bay

    Apologies for the long pause between postings. We've been away for the past few days, staying with family friends in beautiful Marion, on Buzzards Bay, near the Cape. We brought the girls down last summer, when they were just six months old, and as we were leaving today we were told that if we brought them back next summer, too, that was it; we had to come down with them every year from there on out. Fine with me! It's a beautiful spot, and has all the elements of my ideal family summer getaway: the ocean, green grass and shady trees, an outdoor shower, shelves full of books, big family dinners, an easy, do-what-you-want-when-you-want sort of feel.

     

     

    Not that we were exactly lounging around. The gals kept us good and busy. But it was easier in some ways than last year, when they were still nursing every three hours and didn't sleep through the night. And this year they could actually do things -- besides just smile and spit up. They colored with markers (none were swallowed, as far as I know) and kicked balls around in the yard with the big kids. They played with all manner of toys, representing three generations (A 1950s stacking toy, 1970s Fisher Price people, a present day Spongebob sprinkler). And, to my delight, they discovered the joys of playing in the sand -- something I always loved to do as a kid.

     

    (More photos after the jump)

     

     

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  • How We Spent Our Summer Vacation

    We just got back from a week at lovely Sandy Island family camp, and have the bug bites, dirty fingernails and suitcases smelling of damp towels to prove it. It was a great week, with stellar weather, and the girls wowed everyone with their cuteness. It was a lot of fun to introduce them to people we've known for years, some of whom have known Alastair since he was a kid. Clio quickly overcame her stranger anxiety, and let herself be passed from person to person like a small, smiling hot potato. (Or cheap floozy, if you like.) Elsa was actually the one who got a little cranky and clingy as the week went on, showing a marked preference for being held by yours truly. I must admit that while part of me wanted her to just buck up and deal, another part kinda liked it. (I'm the mommy! I'm the mommy!)


    The gals had many adventures, including a couple of dips in Lake Winepesaukee and their first glimpses of live tennis, as their father triumphed on the court to become the reigning Week 9 champ. Elsa sampled mouthfuls of every natural substance on the island, including sand, dirt, pine needles, grass and wood chips, and Clio finally broke a tooth. It's just a little white speck, but it's there. In other oral news, both girls became quite proficient at eating Cheerios, which we employed frequently to keep them occupied in the dining hall during mealtimes. By the end of the week, they were actually swallowing the majority of the O's that they stuffed in their mouths, as opposed to dropping them down their shirts, getting bits of them stuck in their noses, smeared on their shirts, etc. By majority, I mean approximately 51%.

     
    We had a great time, too, although, needless to say, it was quite a different vacation experience from past years at Sandy. Thankfully, people were incredibly helpful (extra special shout-outs to Heidi, Jeff and Julia and, of course, Abuelito) so we did manage to squeeze in some tennis, a few dips in the lake, and some nights "out" -- contra dancing in the lodge, music trivia in the dining hall, moon-gazing on the dock. But -- did you sense a "but" coming? -- as nice as the week was, it was also the first time since the girls were born that I've felt a little bit of longing for my life before them.

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About the Blogger

Jane Roper

Jane Roper in Boston

One baby? Piece of cake. Try two. This working mother gives you the inside scoop on the ultimate in extreme parenting: twins.

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