When my sister and I were kids, our parents didn’t allow us to call other people “stupid.” So we did what any smart kids would do: we created a code word that worked just as well. Our code word? “Sebastian.” Ariel’s very own personal crustacean buzzkill was a natural choice for a couple of kids whose first movie in the theater was The Little Mermaid. “You’re so Sebastian,” we would say to each other, and the recipient would TOTALLY know exactly what we meant. It became something of a family joke, and to this day, my Papa, particularly when he is performing a monologue on behalf of the dog in his special dog-voice, will use the word “Sebastian” to call someone a nitwit.
This is why I was surprised when I saw that the name “Sebastian” has now arrived on the top 50 list of boys’ names. Guess all those people just don’t know they’re basically naming their kids “Stupid.”
*Note: if you named your kid Sebastian, I am sure that he is not, in fact, stupid. It’s a great name. But it will always first and foremost make me think “Stupid.” And then it will remind me of “The Neverending Story.” And then I’ll want to put a necklace on my head and pretend to be The Childlike Empress. And THEN it will make me think of twee rockers Belle and Sebastian. The end.
PS: Have you “liked” my new Facebook Page yet?
Dear couple staring in disbelief at an ultrasound image of TWO babies,
Hi. You might be feeling a lot of feelings right now, and those feelings may be giving you other feelings too. Like, maybe you’re a little bummed out and the difference between how you feel and how excited everyone else seems to be about this twins thing might be making you feel a little guilty on top of the whole feeling bummed thing. I know.
Anyone who’s hung out with Etta knows what those words mean. She is D-O-N-E. When she comes over to me, wherever we are– zoo, story time, splash pad– and says “mama, night night,” I pack it in and we jet. Because apparently, my tiny tot knows herself well, and she lets me know when she’s reached the point of needing to get home and get to bed for a nap ASAP. Continue reading
Society isn’t in crisis just because I let this kid choose this Elmo cup (and her outfit).
At this point, everyone who knows anyone with a kid has likely seen the latest viral parenting piece from a “British Nanny” letting us know 5 Reasons Parenting is in a Crisis. Most of them left me with that record-scratch sound playing in my head.
For one thing, I’m an ACTUAL PARENT, and I’m not here to tell you a bulleted list of how to raise your kids. Because if twins have taught me anything, it’s that every kid is different, and every parent is different, and only you know what is best for your child. We’re all just doing the best we can here, and my biggest takeaway in two years has been that we all need a little more grace and a lot more help.
But for another, what really bothered me the most is that Emma, the aforementioned Nanny, characterizes every interaction between parent and child as a power struggle, one in which parental will must be exerted at all costs, lest children get the idea that they “are in charge here.” Continue reading
I feel like when my kids are supposed to switch from various bottles and cups to the next level is one of those lessons I missed in mom school. Bottles to soft sippies, soft sippies to straws, straws to ?? I don’t even know. I eventually got the vague idea that I needed to get them off of the bottles and onto sippy cups because otherwise their teeth would be jacked up, and so we did that somewhere around age one. Except that after that, Etta would ONLY drink from a very particular Nuk soft sippy cup, and Claire would drink anything out of anything except milk NEEDED to be drunk from a baby bottle. And since milk was such a key part of our bedtime routine, since it worked SO WELL to get them sleepy and since I am so utterly lazy, I decided not to fight it. They won’t go to college drinking out of baby bottles, right? Continue reading
I regret not a single minute of this.
For two years and two months, Claire has been snuggled, held, and rocked to sleep. For 19 months of that time, Etta was rocked or bounced to sleep, herself. This could take up to an hour. Sometimes it got annoying– especially after a tough day, sometimes I didn’t feel like the long ordeal. Sometimes, like just last week, my husband and I would talk about maybe it being time to do some sort of sleep training, something anyone who has ever had kids has had strangers recommend, but something I had always resisted. And I resisted because the annoyance was only a rare sometimes. Mostly? Mostly I loved the snuggly ritual of helping my sweet small ones transition from awake to sleep, feeling them grow heavy in my arms, hearing their breaths grow longer, watching their eyelids close. Mostly because I know I’m not allowed to birth any more babies, I felt no need to rush one of the last vestiges of my only babyhood away. I figured eventually, they wouldn’t need me to rock them to sleep, and that when that day arrived, they’d let me know.
And they did. Continue reading
Etta and Claire are two today. The last two years have been the craziest, hardest, best, most beautiful years of our lives. And every day they just get better. I’ll spare the sap, but here’s a little photo retrospective.
brand new bufflogals
I didn’t get to hold Claire, because she had to be immediately transferred to Children’s Hospital to prepare for her spina bifida closure surgery.
Still can’t get over how tiny they were. I was pretty proud of my 6 lb 34 weeker twins, though.
First photo as a family of four, 9 days later, in the NICU with Claire.
First birthday cake/pudding.
One year as a family!
And last weekend.
And now they’re two. I expect a little bit of terrible but a whole lot of terrific.