Friday, September 13, 2013

Summer's Beginning to Give Up Its Fight

A note to my future self, for when I look back at our photographs from this period and get annoyed at how few high quality photographs we took, let me remind me: there's no safe haven for the camera. There is not enough higher ground in Brooklyn. Sure, our phone cameras document the moment sufficiently, but the days when we took fancy, high res photographs are on hiatus until the twins slow down a bit and can be trusted not to dart out of the playground or pick up an acorn and eat it while you fiddle with putting the camera away or whatever. 

Today [actually a few weeks ago now that I'm actually finishing up this post] we went to the twins picnic (finally! it happened!) and I was chatting with a woman who was there with her 21 month year olds, who basically stuck beside her the entire time. After the fact I wondered, is that just who those kids are or can I expect that kind of behavior from Maggie and Sylvie in a few months? I doubt it, but it would be nice. As it was, Sylvie was trying to dart off to the zoo and Maggie to the carousel. Rosemary hung out with the clown, who had a nice thick Brooklyn accent. They had an amazing psychic connection, as evidenced in this picture:



The twins are in their leprechaun phase right now. This is the one where you are CERTAIN they are beside you only to look up and see them 30 feet away on top of the play structure. If it's Maggie, she's probably carefully going down the twisty slide. If it's Sylvia, she is probably standing in the gap waggling her foot over the edge grinning at you in a taunting kind of way.

Actually, if I had a quarter for every time some one looked at her and made the observation, "This one looks mischievous, we'd have our groceries all paid for. But Sylvie does have her quieter moments, and has been giving some amazing hugs lately. Tiny arms give you a good tight squeeze. She also has developed a serious stuffed animal addiction, and insists on going to bed each night with a whole host of friends in her crib. We often come by to remove a few after the fact.  

















It being summer, and Jason working from home, we have spent a lot of time at playgrounds. I choose them carefully right now, aiming for ones with few exits and good sight lines, that are close enough to home that the girls don't fall asleep in the stroller. There are a couple I'm avoiding until future notice, until they have their quest for independence a bit more in balance with their street smarts. (By which I mean their not-going-out-into-the-street smarts.) It's a bit limiting, on the one hand, but the good thing is that we usually run into a friend or two wherever we go.

We've hit the age where you need two of everything.

Parallel Strolling



















But more useful would be magical powers to clone the desired, fought-over item so that both girls think they've won the tug of war. Because supplying a second, equivalent item does not solve much, really, in that particular instant. Maggie is almost always the toy-taker, and Sylvia the toy-loser. This is notable because Maggie is, in all other ways, so unbelievably, uncharacteristically (for a toddler) charitable and thoughtful most other times. When I pour them sippy cups of milk, she will often wait until I have both, nestle them both against her chest, and go bring one to Sylvia (who is usually not hovering about waiting for hers). Yesterday Sylvia was upset about one thing or another, and Maggie went over to Sylvia's crib and pulled out a stuffed animal that Sylvia particularly likes, and then went and handed it to her.

Maggie, Ms. Fix It, also takes time out to take care of any thing she sees needs to be done. Shut an open door, get your shoes at first mention of leaving the house, close a drawer, smooth a wrinkled area rug, put a sippy of milk in the refrigerator (albeit the fake kids' kitchen refrigerator, not truly helpful). And beware standing in the real refrigerator trying to get something out, as she will probably try to shut you inside.

Sylvia, a cat-like little person, tends to follow her own whims a bit more. Fortunately, her own whims include dancing to anything even remotely musical, smiling broadly at strangers in a way that makes them think she has only EVER smiled for them, and singing along to the ice cream truck whenever it goes by. On the less adorable side, she will try to dart out of a playground if you give her half a chance.

Fancy Pantsless



Double decker chalk drawing
Hugs

I hear something.

































Jason recently gave Sylvia the nickname the Littlest Big Shot, because she will give you every sign she is excited about doing something - say, going on a carousel. But when the carousel ride is imminent, she is suddenly really, really not into it.

Meantime Maggie, who appears the more circumspect of the two, appears to be a bit of a daredevil. She loves a carousel:




















When we went to the Columbia County Fair, Maggie was torn at the end of the ride between gripping on too tightly to be removed from the horse and signing for more. She also got really mad that she wasn't tall enough to go on the roller coaster. Maggie mad, by the way, or excited, makes an imitable, throaty, squawky sound I hope I never forget. She also understands everything (but says little), even relatively complicated things. She's been trying to go down the stairs facing forward rather than backward, and has been so frustrated I keep telling her to go down the safe way. So when I proposed a compromise yesterday -- that she go down the first half of our very steep staircase the safe way and then the second half the other way, she understood immediately what I meant.

This is such a Maggie stance. She walks around like this all the time:





















Over the summer, Rosemary has been studiously avoiding reading, which she can totally do (each word still takes a bit of work, though she sometimes surprises me by reading something in her head), and has making more elaborate drawings, including my personal favorite, the cartoon "Hello Dolly and the Monsters":





















And braids / hair accessories:


Gratuitous mustache section:




Fairy foliage hair:


Just yellow:



In August, Rosemary stayed in the Berkshires for 1 1/2 weeks, while Jason and I and the babies came back to the city. While we missed Rosemary dreadfully, we took advantage of slightly greater flexibility to visit the Bronx Zoo, go strollerless to Governors Island, and swim in the pop up pool along the waterfront. (While Rosemary is getting better and better at swimming, we're not quite ready to do a full family swim.)  





It was great to get her back home a few days later. It felt like a long time apart.


And I'm so glad we didn't miss this momentous occasion, which happened just a couple weeks later. 


More and more the three girls are playing together, for little stretches here and there. I love it when the three little independent spirits converge. Mostly it's tickling and rough housing, but also reading books and chalk drawing, chalk drawing, chalk drawing!  

Friday, August 23, 2013

Oops, I Did It Again


We're members of a terrific twins and multiples list serve called the BBPOTC (do not ask me exactly what it stands for - something about Brooklyn Parents of Twins), which has been a fantastic resource for whatever crazy twin-related question a person could possibly have. Every year they do a get together at a local carousel so people can actually meet in person. Last year we decided to go, even though it was in the middle of the babies' naptime and only Rosemary was old enough to enjoy the rides. We hoofed it all the way down to Dumbo (near the base of the Brooklyn Bridge, 1 3/4 miles from here) only to find that there was no twins party there. Turns out the party was at the carousel in Prospect Park. The OTHER carousel, too far away to get to in time.

Oh well. It's a nice park anyhow.

This year, when I saw the first mention of the carousel party, I marked our calendar. I noted the venue. I was ready. Maybe too ready. Last week there was a reminder that went out about the event, then a request for RSVPs so they could get the bagel count right. That meant go-time, as far as I was concerned. We packed everyone into our sardinemobile (yes, 3 carseats do fit in the back of a Lexus, as long as two are rear-facing), drove to Prospect Park, and headed to the carousel. This is what we saw: 




See the carousel building in the background? It doesn't look open, does it. I got the date wrong. Same time, one week later. 

Oh well. The carousel is right next to the Prospect Park Zoo, which made for a great outing and a gorgeous, quiet morning at the zoo. And let's face it, we never, ever would have gotten everyone out the door at nine in the morning just to go to the zoo. We got to see a red panda, a porcupine, a peacock, a baby baboon, owls. We even bumped into some old friends who we never would have otherwise seen. Not so bad.

And then later that day we went to a playground near us and there were three other sets of twins there. It's Brooklyn! Every day, every where is Twins Day. We don't need no carousel. Granted, we will try again tomorrow.


A hat worthy of Dolly Levi, yes?


Nature walk, Sylvia leading the way:



Art project, and of course Maggie is in the thick of it, very busy. (As Sylvia was running around, trying to leave the room.) 

Old Frenchified Fair

If memory serves, I've only had one "We Love Governors Island" post so far this summer, which means I still have one or two more coming (based on annual averages). We headed there a few weeks back expecting to find a kids' field sports event that I'd seen listed. Jason went early with Rosemary after her swim class, and littler girls and I caught the next ferry out after their nap. When we got off the ferry, we roamed around a bit as I texted Jason trying to figure out where they were, and all of the sudden I heard this rhythmic squeaking, rattling sound punctuated by an occasional HONK HONK HONK. So we rounded ducked in between two houses on Officer's Row and saw this amazing site: 




Maybe it's hard to tell from the tiny video, but it's antique old French carnival ride called a Velocipede, a great big circular bike where all riders have operational pedals. It turned out to be part of the Fete Paradiso, an antique traveling french fair that was gorgeous and magical, and a little rickety too -- which actually made it seem more amazing that it was there in the first place, since everything looked like it should be in a museum rather than in use.

The Velocipede goes as fast as its riders collectively make it go. The honk honk is made by a barker honking a big bike horn to encourage speedy peddling. After going forward for awhile, the barker gets people to slow down, stop, and then start going backwards. Sylvia almost leapt out of the stroller trying to get to it. Jason said he wanted to take her on but this mean mama said no.

Rosemary, however, decided she didn't want to go on it, so we went looking for other options. This boat swing fit the bill -- another "ride" that operates on people power.




Rosemary also went on a carousel ride, which was also antique and amazing, but I took no pictures because Jason went on the ride too so I had both Littles to watch. In general, there was a fair amount of baby tracking going on, since neither baby is particularly interested in staying by our side. I don't know if they assume we will follow them or if they don't care, but there's no staying still when they are out of the stroller.




No one went on this one, but I was in love with it from afar:


The look on Maggie's face is so quintessentially Maggie. I don't recall why she was making it then -- she often gets this expression when she sees someone drop something she thinks needs picking up. Very concerned citizen.


Totally charming pugilistic ball toss:


Video of the ball toss, which I wasn't going to post until I watched it again and saw the interaction between Sylvia (in Jason's arms) and the lady on the left. I've never seen anyone less charmed by her.



After a little bit, we returned to the Velocipede with the idea that Jason would ride it (without Sylvia, much to her dismay). The line was longish and then it began to thunderstorm. So instead we made for the ferry, hoping to return another time. Stay tuned for Part Deux?




Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Urban Meadow




















We haven't spent much time in the Urban Meadow this summer, between last year's bee sting (Rosemary, in a great field of clover) and this year's free-range chickens meeting up with our free-range twins. The chickens are fun, and the babies love to check them out from the playground, which is right next door. But they (Sylvia in particular) don't have the sense yet to give animals their space, and even when the chickens are in their pen (which is most of the time, in reality), the girls would definitely be poking their little finger in there. The chickens, by the way, were located from someone's backyard in Red Hook after Sandy. It seems wrong after writing so much about them not to have a picture - alas, we photographed only girls.






Summer Days and the Blueberry Festival

This summer has flown by, broken down into weeklong chunks depending on where Rosemary is doing summer camp. We started on the first week of July in the Berkshires, where she did a sweet farm camp at the Berkshire Botanical Garden (home to a very friendly goat who does not mind a little extra attention). After recovering from a very first day - torrential rain, flash flood warnings, and more rain - the camp ended up being a big hit. Actually, when we went to pick up Rosemary on the first day, she turned and saw us, and fixed me with a terrific scowl. But at the end of the week, she said, "Mom, remember that look I gave you the first day? I'm sorry about that." That was a first. It was fun watching our city girl strut up to the chicken coop and dig around for an egg (although she could also do that right around here, since there are now chickens living in the Urban Meadow, just adjacent to our favorite playground).

We did a few weeks of camp in Brooklyn and then she returned to the Berkshires for a few weeks with her cousins at another camp up there. This one is a real camp - in there are older kids there for sleepaway camp - but R and her two cousins were there as day campers. The beginning started off with a few jitters -- at the first drop off she announced that it was also known as "Camp Stupendously Bad" (I'm pretty sure she started off calling it Camp Stupid but then self-edited as she went.) She did have a good time, and especially enjoyed the time with just the cousins, Aunt Sam, Grandmama and Baba, when the rest of us returned to the city. This year's phone calls from the Berkshires were highly entertaining, including one where she sang me the events of her day start to finish (especially notable since she is usually very stingy when it comes to giving details of her day). I do wish I'd recorded that. 
         





Jason, the twins, and I were up for a few days. The little girls really, really loved the time with their big cousins.





David came by the first day and captured this Utterly Sylvia expression. (Or maybe Sam got this shot? I lost track.) She is turning out to become quite the mischief maker. More on that in another post. 





The view from the sandbox:





Jump!



We went to the annual Blueberry Festival, a hallowed tradition that begins with the ceremonial eating of a massive blueberry pancake breakfast and the drinking of many small plastic cups of coffee brought around by nice but harried volunteer ladies who are probably not accustomed to being asked to pour other people's coffee. Actually, it begins by being shepherded out the door in the middle of a rain storm to beat the pancake-getting lines, and while this seems overzealous at the outset, those lines do get very long. Austerlitz, New York, is THE place to be on just this one day of the year. Other highlights: all-family basket weaving...  




...and a performance of slightly depressing folk songs played in an upbeat manner (see below). Maggie loved listening to the trio of songs about people getting hung. Sylvia was not too sure.





...and carding wool.


A special bonus: Maggie dances...with pole as partner.