South Beach Playgroup

This week I took Locke and Lola to a playgroup hosted by another mother of twins. The event was held in their giant backyard that was tricked out with three wading pools, a big swingset, numerous plastic slides and playhouses, a sprinkler, beach balls, t-ball, and one big plastic castle. It was truly a wonderland for toddlers.

When we stolled in the yard, all the other kids were already racing around in their swimsuits, laughing, playing, drinking juice from sippy cups, or being changed, slathered with sunblock, or otherwise having their fun momentarily compromised by their mothers. No one even noticed us roll up in our double rig.

I began to unshoe and undress Lola and Locke, one by one letting them down onto the lawn to go search of fun. It took them a minute to want to leave my side but soon they were off in different directions, exploring the toys, playing in the wading pools, and chasing after the resident dog, a sweet black lab who greeted each person with a friendly sniff or, in Lola's case, a sloppy lick on the cheek.

As I walked around to keep both Lola and Locke in my sight, I watched them exploring and interacting with the other kids. Lola is fairly reserved, preferring to seek out her own fun in the pools and playhouses, while Locke is very much a social animal. He sat in a pool, making eyes at a leggy blond about twice his age. Soon she joined him in the pool, seemingly having quite the conversation. It must have been fairly one-sided, since Locke isn't talking yet, but neither of them seemed to mind. He gestured off into the farthest regions of the yard, presumably pointing out the dog or a toy to his new friend. She used words, and used them well. He was obviously smitten.

Eventually the girl left to be reapplied with sunblock or to have a snack and Locke joined Lola in a playhouse.

I realized, watching them, that this playgroup isn't too different from a day on Miami's South Beach. A bunch of scantily clad youngsters walking around with drinks (do they make umbrellas for sippy cups?), wading in the water, eyeing each other's toys. The boys played mostly with the other boys (again, like South Beach). But even on SoBe there's a girl-crazy boy or two. At the playgroup it was Locke.

Once he was positively reinforced by the cute 3-year-old, his confidence was was overinflated. He began chasing after all the girls in their irridescent swimsuits. Not the least discouraged by the fact that he was literally half their size, he followed small groups of preschool girls as they ran into the sprinkler. He didn't quite understand why he was getting sprayed with water, which made the whole situation even funnier. Then he followed them onto the double swing where one pointed at him and told him he was too little to play with them. Still undeterred, he continued to pursue the big girls until it was time to leave.

Lola didn't interact as much with the other kids but she had a great time playing in the water, rolling the beach ball back and forth with me, and exploring the playhouses. At least she wasn't running after the older boys. Not yet, anyway.

I'm looking forward to the next playgroup. Locke and Lola are finally at an age where they enjoy playing with other kids, not just by them. I guess it helps that they've always had each other to play with. And by.

Author's note: I've been trying to add pictures but Blogger doesn't seem to want to cooperate. If, at a later date I'm able to add them, I'll do so. Otherwise, you'll have to use your imagination.

Stripes

Does Eddybody Hab a Tissue?

I knew it would happen some day. It had to. But I was beginning to believe we were invincible. Without so much as a runny nose since Lola and Locke were born, I really thought we were going to somehow escape the inevitable. As long as we never uttered the words, "I can't believe the babies have never been sick," we'd be safe. Well, we didn't. And we're not.

We were struck, two by two, with colds this past week. First, Locke and Kelly started sniffling and coughing. Now Lola and I are coughing and sneezing. Oh sure, it could be much worse. But there's a whole lot of whining going on in this home.

Colds are colds. They're not life or death situations, but they provide a fair amount of misery. First there's the head, bursting with unsavory goop until it feels like it might explode. Then the nose, which runs uncontrollably until the skin between it and your lips becomes so sensitive you can barely touch the softest tissue to it. The ears take turns clogging just enough to affect your equilibrium. The back of your throat is scratchy which, during the day, is bearable. But as soon as you lay down, the swallowing begins. You swallow almost involuntarily to alleviate the scratchiness which, in turn, causes even more scratchiness. And, finally, your lungs are so itchy that coughs blurt themselves out -- often and with no warning.

Locke and Lola have probably been experiencing all the classic symptoms. (Judging by the moods this week, I feel certain they are.) And they each had the added bonus of a full night of fever at the beginning of their respective sicknesses. I'm not sure why they had fever when neither Kelly nor I did. I guess their little bodies were fighting harder than they'd ever fought, so their body temperatures were raised in the battle.

So now we're in varying stages of misery. Kelly is recovering nicely, although he's not yet officially well. Locke is in the final (hopefully) stage of coughing but his runny nose shows no signs of surrender. Lola and I are in full-blown sneezing, coughing, stuffy head, cranky mode. I'm sure we'll all be back to normal in another week. But right now Locke and Lola are both in need of a whole lot of Mommy time and, although Mommy would like more than anything to crawl into bed for a week, it's somehow comforting to me to be the primary comfort to them. I only wish I had two more arms and an extra lap. And more tissue.

War Wounds

In the past 13 months -- since I've been a parent -- I've begun to understand the meanings of many things that I'd heard my entire life but never thought twice about, like "They grow up so fast" and "Having kids will change your life." And in the past few months, since Lola and locke have become so mobile, I've realized the meaning of one more: "I feel your pain." (Oh, sure, I could have used, "It hurts me more than it hurts you," but that one is usually only used in movies when there's a belt precariously positioned over a young lad's behind. We probably won't be using that interpretation with Locke and Lola.)

Locke and Lola have had more bumps, bruises, and cuts since they began walking than I've had in the past decade. It's tough -- especially on me. Every time they fall and I hear that serious cry (not the frustrated "my balance sucks and I'm tired of falling" cry -- the one that you know is real), I nearly have a heart attack. I usually have the phone in my hand, speed dialing the pediatrician, and a crying toddler in the other, even before I've surveyed the damage.

We recently rearranged our living area to give the little walkers more room to roam. The first day, Lola fell against the coffee table and cut her forehead. The next day, Locke fell against an end table and bruised the bridge of his nose, which, as you know, often causes bruising of the eye too. Now, with Lola still in her cast from her thumb surgery, a butterfly bandage on her head, and Locke sporting a black eye, I was scared to death to take them out in public. I was constantly in fear that Child Protective Services was about to tap on my shoulder to ask me a few questions. I'm no Brittany Spears! I'm a good mother!

The day after Locke's accident, I bought enough table edge padding to cover every table in a Las Vegas casino, and Kelly and I spent an entire evening padding every piece of furniture we have. I felt like we were living in a pinball machine. And the next morning, it took all of 30 seconds for Locke to notice it, tear down a corner piece, and start chewing on it. Lumpyhead's mom had a similar experience and pointed out the worthlessness of this particular "childproofing" product in a post, but it was a few days too late for us.

But we're doing much better now. Lola got her cast off and her forehead scar is fading fast. Locke's black eye faded away. They look much better and they're getting more and more sure-footed, too. But there will probably always be some kind of visible bruise. I'm as careful as a mother possibly could be but you can't watch them constantly. Especially with twins. And it will be during that 5 seconds that you take your eyes off of them to change the other's diaper that they'll choose to hurt themselves. It's inevitable. But I'm learning to give myself a break. Because although I take good care of my toddlers, the fact is, they're toddlers. They fall. They get hurt. That's what they do. And what I do is prevent it as often as I can. But when the inevitable happens, I kiss them and comfort them and patch up their wounds, and do whatever I can to make them feel better. Because I'll do anything to make my babies happy. That's another thing I understand now.