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Showing posts from April, 2014

kite.

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"K is for Kite."

Little kids know all about kites, but you rarely see kids actually flying kites these days. At least not in the city. On Sunday night we took a stroller ride around the neighborhood. It's how we kill time during the evening witching hour. It's how we keep the girls content while burning Jasper's energy. It's how we entertain our neighbors who sit outside enjoying retirement with whiskey and cigars. Bastards.

We were a few blocks from home when we ran into a gaggle of boys - cousins all trying to fly a cheap kite behind a bike. Jasper was enthralled and we watched for over an hour. Most of the time was spent untangling the string or throwing sticks at a tree to get it down. Adults would drive and bike by, remembering their own childhood antics and joyfully offering to help. But the boys refused politely each time. This was their kite, their adventure.

This may have been the first real kite in Jasper's world, which seemed a bit pathetic. So…

tomb.

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I used to see new moms pushing strollers on long walks and think, "Wow. She is brave and awake and rocking this." But then I became one of those stroller ladies and realized it's quite the opposite. We are stir crazy and lonely and desperate for sunshine. We are tired of people always touching us, so we put our spawn into strollers and push them down the street - a metaphor for the space and freedom we desire.

It is also true that traffic and earbuds make it nearly impossible to hear that one of your children isn't enjoying the stroller ride. Thus, you continue strolling for your own sake, pretending everyone is having a ball.

When they're all bundled up, I have a hard time telling these two apart. Little noses peer out from their fuzzy tombs. They are safe and warm, being transformed into someone new at every moment. They are my Easter hymns.

The den at my house has been my winter tomb. I am usually on the couch holding a baby or two, changing a diaper or two, p…

melting.

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On Saturday Minnesota started melting. Matt and I wrestled the girls into front carriers and Jasper put on his rain boots. We set off on a short walk, racing and puddle jumping around our sunny neighborhood.

For ten blocks, we were very good at this three-kid-thing. We laughed a lot, our toes got wet, and those driving by thought we were downright adorable.

I spend so much of my time cooped up these days giving each girl half of what they need, leaning into family and friends brave/bored/kind enough to help, and declaring to Jasper that he has "two choices". (This conversation has the power to unleash or compose a meltdown, but I never know which until I'm standing in the midst of his emotional puddle.)

I am experiencing my own meltdown in these first weeks of twin-dom. I am watching the sacred cow of my expectations, hormones, and needs being melted down into the biggest puddle at all. I stare at it dripping and pooling, hopeful that it will be remolded and fired into …