The minutiae on our miniatures

Monthly Archives: March 2014

Yeah, it’s March, but if Nora and Bryn end up being anything like their mother, they’ll balk at the cliché-ness of New Year’s resolutions, and refuse to make any in January because they’d be insincere and forced. Then in March they’ll come up with a few changes they’d like to make, and justify making those cliché New Year’s resolutions because they’re not REALLY “New Year’s resolutions” anymore—they’re just commitments they’re making to themselves, and because they didn’t make them when everyone else did in January, they’ll be much more successful at keeping them! Ha! Another mom blogger I love did something similar with her 1 year old, and it got my wheels turnin.’ A little hopin’ and a wishin.’ And yeah, N + B are their own people, blah blah blah, but they get to share all their resolutions this year. Mama didn’t make separate lists. Oh and can you swear in “Mom with a View?” Because in this mom’s view, there tends to be some swearing—just a heads up [note to blog readers–I originally wrote this post for the Minnesota Valley Moms of Multiples newsletter…recycling here so n + b can take note in 18 years!].

1. We will accept that gravity is no longer a novelty. You’ve had your exploration time, ladies. You’re 1 ½ years old. Dropping shit off your high chairs while mom and dad dutifully ignore you (per all the parenting advice) is getting really old. And your pregnant mom is getting worse at nonchalantly picking it all up off the floor. I know you think it’s a funny circus act down there now, but you get it now—if you let go of something in the air, it will fall to the floor. Weeee. Now quit it.

2. We will show our gratitude during diaper changes by not bucking like baby broncos. As far as I see it, you guys have a choice. You could sit in your own waste all day, or you could cooperate, smile and blow kisses at us while we wipe the poo off your asses. I promise you when you’re changing OUR diapers when we’re old and incontinent, we will not act like you are trying to brand our butt cheeks with a red hot branding iron, so a little help here, eh?

3. Likewise, we will recognize that getting strapped into a car seat means FIELD TRIP (read: fun & exciting!) and is not a hostage-taking situation. Remember how it’s winter? And you guys are preemies? And when we’re not quarantined by 2 feet of snow or the polar vortex, we’re quarantined anyway because of all the viruses out there that would cripple your tiny little bodies? Well you’d think the ONE time a week or so that we load up the diaper bag with Clorox wipes and hand sanitizer and take you out of our little South Mpls jail, that you’d pretty much strap yourSELVES into your car seats you’d be so ready for a jailbreak! What’s with the arching and screaming?!

4. We will recognize the difference between weekdays and weekends and adjust our mornings accordingly. Granted, you do stay in your cribs fairly contently until 6:45 or 7am, and we realize that’s pretty good for your age, but maybe you’d want to come quietly cuddle with us in our bed for a little bit after we come get you? Let us chill a little longer on weekend mornings? We’d even consider turning on a cartoon once in awhile, eh, eh? No? You’d rather keep your routine of stepping on our faces to get to all the goodies on our nightstands, dumping glasses of water on cell phones, squeezing mom’s hand lotion everywhere and tearing pages out of magazines? Sigh. Ok.

5. We will stop summoning up Siri on mom’s phone in the presence of others. At one point (pre-kids), mom somehow convinced Siri to address her as “Sexy Bitch” and mom can’t figure out how to undo that. Not only is it pretty embarrassing when Siri says that in front of company (or strangers, really), but mama really doesn’t want one of your first phrases to be “I don’t understand what you mean, sexy bitch.” Thanks.

6. We will temporarily curb our enthusiasm for helping to unload the dishwasher and fold laundry until we are old enough to discern if they are clean or dirty dishes we are unloading, and if it’s clean or dirty laundry we are pulling out of a basket. We’ve been very careful to offer you nothing but praise in these situations, convinced we will someday reap the rewards and you’ll beam with pride as you sort silverware and match up piles socks, confident that you’re the best in the world at these jobs! But for now, maybe just happily bang on the one pot we offer you and do that cute thing where you run around with a pair of mommy’s undies on your head while we do the rest, mmkay?

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7. We will make 2014 the year of the hug-and-kiss greeting. You guys give great hugs and kisses…but you’re pretty damn stingy with them. What do we say this year we shoot for a hug-and-kiss combo when we pull you out of your cribs in the morning, when we get home from work in the afternoons, before bed, and maybe some just-becauses sprinkled in between? Too much? We really do enjoy the aggressive face grabs and push-aways when we go in for hugs and kisses, but maybe we try something a little different this year? Yeah!

And since this year will include the birth of your younger sibling, here are a few resolutions we’re hoping you make in advance.

8. We will continue to be really decent sleepers when BW3 comes (Baby Windschitl #3). Thank you for recognizing that you’ve had your middle-of-the-night time with mom and dad and now it’s time to respect your baby sib’s nighttime attention needs. We hesitate to tell you this, but nothing scares us more than 3 babies awake at the same time anytime between the hours of 10pm and 6am. So thanks for being awesome. In advance.

9. We will DEFINITELY stay in our cribs until the end of 2014, but most likely until we’re 4 or 5 years old. Yeah, we know it’s inevitable you’ll probably launch yourselves out of them at some point, but I’m almost certain that the day one of my offspring is able to WALK OUT OF HER ROOM in the morning and WALK INTO MINE, pretty much deciding what time our day starts, is the day all my hair turns gray. At once. We could come up with something really cool… like bunk bed cribs! It would be so fun! Whaddya say!?

1o. We will teach BW3 only the cutest of our habits: how to “read” books aloud using different voices just like daddy, splash and roar like wild animals in the tub, sign “more, please” when mom or dad give us a bite of their food, and play peek-a-boo using our own feet. Just pass it down, ladies. You got this.

Love,

Sexy Bitch (aka Mom)


I always thought it was weird that parents talked about their babies’/toddlers’ ages in terms of months for so long. Seventeen months? Um, can’t you just call it 1 and a half? Close enough. But I get it now. Yeah, babies change a lot from month to month, and there is a big difference between a 15 month old and an 18 month old, but honestly, I think I speak for all parents when I say that the age-in-months thing is more to emphasize how many months you’ve been able to keep a baby (or babies) alive. “Eighteen months” sounds a lot longer than “a year and a half.” EIGHTEEN MONTHS. Eighteen! That’s a lot of months.

But poor BW3…

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And here we are. N + B are a year and a half, eighteen months..whichever one sounds more badass to you–go with that one. Granted, I started writing this post when they were 18 mos…we are now 4 days away from 19 months. Such is life.

We’ll start with the stats.

At their 18 month check up, the ped couldn’t have been happier with their development. Bryn dropped off the growth curve for weight a little after her little stint with RSV, which was to be expected, so the current gap between her and her sister is now almost 4lbs! So I guess technically she only weighs 80% of what her sister does–crazy. She’s currently hanging out at the 1st percentile for weight, but little peanut is back to shoveling in the grub like a linebacker, so we expect that she’ll make a comeback here any day now.

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Also, both girls are overachievers in the head circumference category. Nora was in the 75th percentile. Whoa, nelly.

Doctor visits are getting more interesting now that the girls are mobile and INTO EVERYTHING, and trying to keep them corralled onto one small exam table for an hour+ is literally like herding cats. I gotta give it to these peds offices though–they keep it pretty bare in there–no clinical supplies laying around, everything’s pretty much nailed down, and there isn’t even a blood pressure cuff or ear scope thing hooked to the wall. Smart people. But never underestimate the creativity of toddlers in a prison cell. Between the nurse leaving and the doc coming in (and pretty much continuing throughout the doc’s exam–they are not shy), our little cats were licking bacteria-laden walls, pulling all the tissues out of the box, tearing the tissue paper on the exam table to shreds, throwing snacks all over the floor… Either nothing surprises our doc anymore, or she did a great job feigning non-judgement, because she barely batted an eye when she walked into our little 8×10′ disaster cell. She just crunched right over all the puffs and did her thing.

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On the eating front, the girls continue to be pretty much game for anything, following in their father’s footsteps. Thank goodness they don’t eat like her mother when she was a baby (which Grama and Grampa never stop reminding us about). But in an expected twist of karma, they only eat well for mom on occasion, but double-fist food into their pie-hole whenever dad or the nanny feeds them. Well played, ladies.

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Yep, that’s a ball of kale and spinach.

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To our delight, the girls have been pretty portable when it comes to eating out lately. In our last 5 restaurant experiences with the girls in tow, only once did we have to ask the waitress to box up everything before we even started eating so we could make a quick escape with our miniature terrorists. We’re gonna call that a win. Here are some shots from our more successful outings.

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For some reason Bryn decided she would ONLY eat this meal with an adult-sized fork.

Speaking of dancing, have we told you about the girls’ obsession with music? They take it VERY seriously, and whenever a song comes on, they drop everything, and (usually with very straight faces) dutifully start rocking out, which for Bryn means busting out her signature move–The Chicken Wing. (Note: lots of bonus Nick footage in the next 2 videos–sweaty Nick, Nick in tube socks, huge-hole-in-my-boxer-pants Nick… eat your hearts out!)

It’s gotten so extreme, that waiting between songs on the radio has at times resulted in mini tantrums.

If you’re reading this from anywhere in the continental United States, we probably don’t have to tell you that this winter has SUCKED. Yeah, we’ve been pretty much quarantined anyway because of the flu season+preemie combo, but in our general anger toward winter 2014, we feel a responsibility to place at least some of the blame on this sh*tty weather. So the few times  we’ve taken the girls out into the GDP (great dirty public), we’ve felt a little extra rebellious, like we’re giving old man winter the bird (while we frantically clorox wipe anything the girls might touch…our apologies if we clorox-wiped your kids).

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Last month, this lucky mama got to go on a girls’ spa weekend trip with her BFFs in New York. It was nothing short of ahhhmaaazing, and while I would have liked to think that things were falling apart without me at home, rather the opposite was true, and the girls were well fed, bathed, and entertained by Super Dad Nick. Grandma and Grandpa W even came up to witness the single-dad magic (and get some twin time).


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Here are some other randoms from the last [insert amount of time since last post here]:

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Transitioning from 2 naps to 1 has meant some really sleepy lunches

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The iPhone obsession continues. “She’ll never find me in here…”

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Cheers,

Sara

PS–Little update on BW3: Little babe is doing everything he/she is supposed to be doing, including constant backflips and karate chops, and so far hasn’t thrown us any curves! Tomorrow is our 24 week ultrasound and check up, and our doc has told us she’s cutting us off from ultrasounds after this one. Say what?! This is super weird for us, considering we got used to almost weekly ultrasounds with the girls. Oh well. No more paparazzi for you, b-dubs. We’ll see you on the outside! (Preferably on or around June 23rd–thanks).