The Girls and the Birdbath

Clara going home

Where does it go?

Monday night, we gave the girls a bath and dressed them for bed. They had their water, a story and lots of kisses. I had just settled them in their cribs when Gene burst into the bedroom to tell me the ceiling had collapsed in his office. And that his desk, and all the papers and books covering it, were soaked.
I abandoned Margaret and Clara to help him assess and clean up, ruing the fact that he doesn't put things away immediately. Neither do I all the time, but I don't have a drop ceiling over my desk. Anyway, it was a bloody mess. Beautiful books ruined, papers he painstakingly collected for his book soaked, disks destroyed. But he was pretty happy, because an hour or so before the bath, he had taken his laptop upstairs. It was fine. Everything else can be easily replaced.
On Tuesday, Gene took apart the innards of the house. Not only did the bathtub line erupt, the toilet also backed up. Why did both these things happen at once? Because they can, of course. Gene learned what caused the line to back up. A little blue hat that Margaret loves. It had gone missing last Friday. Now we know where it went: Margaret dropped it in the toilet and Clara flushed it away. She has the strength in her hands to work the older toilet, while Margaret does not. I wanted to laugh and cry when Gene showed me the poop-covered hat. I could just picture them working out the details, cooperating and giggling together. And getting along. To cry because I can only imagine whatever other mischief they're going to get into. I just hope they don't hurt themselves.
Luckily, Gene had a contracting business and has every tool known to man, as well as the know-how to use them. Otherwise, a plumber's bill would make us very very sad.
I felt like a charwoman, washing towels for what seemed like days and days. Gene has cleaned up his office and found that only one book has permanent damaged. And best of all, thanks to Oxiclean, Margaret's hat is clean enough for her to wear again.

Buying and bargains

I usually shy away from huge bargain stores. They overwhelm and exhaust me.
After coming home repeatedly with soap shaped like seashells and packs of odd-colored pantyhose, I vowed never to set foot in one again. But Kidsignments is different. It's a huge, bi-annual bargain sale of gently used second-hand items — everything for babies, children and expectant moms — housed in two exhibit buildings at the Gwinnett Fairgrounds.
The savings are so incredible, I put aside my fear of random purchases and decide to go shopping. There's only one of me, so I forgo the building with yard toys and larger items in favor of the one containing clothes, toys, furniture and books.
With two 23-month-old girls at home, I know spending less on clothes means having more money for essentials like diapers and baby wipes. Clara and Margaret are growing so fast, it seems that yesterday's cuffed pants are today's capris, so why spend a fortune on new?
Toting my trusty laundry basket, I head to the rack for 3T and 4T. So many clothes are jammed together, I could use an electric knife to part them. Another set of hands would be useful, and I again regret not inviting a friend to accompany me.
As my girls have gotten older, the clothes have become, well, not as cute. Which is good, from a financial standpoint.
Instead of cute, some of the clothes I manage to extract from the rack seem almost commercial. Comic book characters, Disney folks, Winnie-the-Pooh and other faces familiar to children on their way to becoming tiny consumers.
The simpler clothes are sandwiched between froufrou velour dresses and elaborate appliquéd sweaters with designer labels. One outfit has a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and embroidery on the sleeves under a corduroy jumper with matching designs on the hem. It sells for $23, which is pricey when other items are going for $3. In a store, of course, this combo would go for twice that amount.
There are enough Halloween costumes to disguise a first-grade classroom — princesses, lions, Power Rangers, witches. Halloween seems far away, and our girls too little to understand it. I pass over the costumes and decide to peruse winter coats. A patient volunteer directs me to the correct rack. It's stuffed with jackets of all sorts and seems to run from Lawrenceville to Snellville.
After one touch of wool, I recoil. It feels hot. Winter? Who can look at a fleece pullover or a down coat when it's 100 degrees outside? Much less Santa-themed clothes and snow suits? Some veteran shoppers can do it, but I head instead to the Land of 10,000 Strollers.
People who haven't looked at strollers lately might be surprised to know banks have loans specifically for buying today's high-tech stroller. Made of alloys straight from NASA, with shocks more durable than those in most off-road pickups, these tiny vehicles can carry baby astronauts safely around the moon.
Or can carry any baby, toddler or skinny child across virtually any terrain on Earth. For $500 to $1,000, you can park a upscale baby transportation system next to your sedan.
Until today, the double baby running stroller was an item we had decided to forgo in favor of starting a college fund. A good one can cost anywhere from $400 to $700. But there it was, in perfect condition, for $85, a side-by-side stroller with the big wheels capable of negotiating any broken sidewalk, sandy beach or pothole.
I decided to buy the stroller. A friendly volunteer took it away and put a sold sign on it.
Checking out took more time than selecting the merchandise. But it was an interesting way to spend half an hour. The line inches by boxes filled with books of all kinds, puzzles, videos, toys and more books, so there is plenty to keep you occupied. And it's just fun to see other women filling laundry baskets and trashcans with things that will, I hope, continue to delight and entertain other children.
The exit process means letting one volunteer cut off the computerized tags on your items, waiting in another line and then making your way to those who tally up the bill. Today, I've gathered enough clothes to outfit two 2-year-olds for the next six to eight months, have found a few books to read to them and landed a fancy vehicle to cart them around, all for about $150.
And I make it out of the building with no seashell-shaped soap.

Wonder Night

Because babies don't run on schedules, we left very late for the state park on Sunday. I thought I should feed the girls something before we left, thinking they would be too jacked up to eat much at the park. Stuart brought the entree, Gene and I made salads and we arrived at the park close to 8 p.m. This place has a sandy beach that's perfect for sitting and digging with a shovel and bucket. We don't have to hold Clara and Margaret the entire time as we do in a standard swimming pool. They have a bit more independence. The crescent moon was out a little while after we got there. Clara was sitting next to me in the water, busy with her bucket, when I pointed out the moon to her. She pointed up with one finger and said, "Moooo." Margaret made her "Aaaaa" sound at the moon as well. Gene took both girls out into the deep water and they loved that. Stu and Gene started a fire before Gene came down to the water. As it started getting dark, he went back to help Stu, with Clara following behind. One thing about those Crocs she loves: they're not any good in sand. Margaret and I played in the water until it was almost dark. We could see the moon shining on the water as we walked to the picnic table.
By now, we were the only people cooking in the park. Most people were leaving. It was so quiet and lovely. The light on the water was just beautiful. I can't remember the first time I saw fire or stayed outside in the dark instead of falling asleep in my bed as the darkness fell. But I think i will always remember when Clara and Margaret did both of these things.
After he and Stu cooked the meat and corn, Gene built up the fire in the grill so we could see, because by then it was pitch dark....and both girls were just transfixed by the flames. I was fussing and grabbing at them constantly. Just didn't want anything to happen. Imagine how many things I'm going to remember about their lives that they won't even know. I can't imagine how much my own mother knew about me, but I know she held what she knew close to her heart for her entire life, as I'm going to do. It's so precious to me, the life I have with Gene and my girls.

Worn To a Frazzle

Clara and Margaret are now 23 months and two days old. Already they've learned the fine art of negotiation and the usefulness of domination. If Margaret has a toy Clara wants, she will offer Margaret another toy and then snatch away the desired object if Margaret seems the least bit interested. If not, Clara will sometimes bite Margaret and swipe the toy, which lands Clara in the crib for a time-out. I hate to think of Clara coming home from pre-school with a note that says, "Your child bit So-and-So today," or Margaret with one that says, "Your child was bitten today." I don't want Clara to be a biter.
Everything they do teaches them something. About the consistency of objects: If they drop a ball, it will bounce, but will it bounce every time? the only way to find out is to drop it. Again and again and again. Same thing with a light switch, a glass of water, a book, or a couch. They've taken to crawling up on the couch...it's okay when I'm there, but not by themselves.
Gene went to the movies last night, so I was handling both babies by myself. I gave them a bath, which is tricky with two toddlers. But I hauled Margaret out, dried her and her feet and then let her indulge in her favorite activity--running around the house naked. She skedaddles around, that's the only word for it. And usually, she's screaming with delight. I diapered Clara and then set her down from the changing table. She ran around chasing Margaret, screaming as well. It's just hilarious to me to see these two little girls running around like they're really getting away with something cool. Maybe they are.
I was singing to them last night while they were going to sleep. I had sung "Hush, Little Baby," about five times and then switched to "All the Pretty Little Horses." Clara piped up, "No, no, Mama," and kept saying "No, no," as I went through my standard night-night songs. She didn't stop protesting until i came back to "Hush, Little Baby." Now quite two, she's so opinionated.
We're going to a state park late this afternoon when it cools off a little. There's a lake with a sandy beach, so we're loading up our shovels and buckets and planning to splash around in the water. Gene and Stu will cook out. It has been too hot here to even venture outside, and the girls miss being outdoors. I'm going to take an umbrella so no one gets sunburned. I swan, going anywhere with them is like moving the Army of the Potomac, we have to pack so much stuff.