I’m clearing off my phone and found these photos!

Si and Art on the rolly polly slide at Powderhorn.

Lewis looking up while going up in an elevator.

Double sip.

We had just arrived at the ice cream shop after a long bike ride (the kids rode in the trailer). Art and Lew each ordered chocolate chip ice cream, I had chocolate. Art was sitting at a picnic table eating and Lew was trying to wiggle his way up onto the seat while holding his cone. Just as he had managed to set on the bench he started to tip back. And back. Until he fell and landed with a thud, using his ice cream cone hand to support his fall. And it broke into pieces and the scoop rolled a few feet away. Poor Lewis was a little hurt but especially devastated to see his cone break into pieces. I told him to suck it up, take it like man! Actually, that’s not true. We had a super long hug, he squeezed out some tears and was reloaded with a new cone. Which he seemed extra careful with.

There is no secret in this house that Ben is Lewis’ preferred parent.  Why, just today Lewis thought Ben was going to take him on errands but when he realized it was really going to be me he was sulky.  And when I neared the car he looked at me with his pouty face and then angrily turned away.  Yesterday, when Lewis woke up from his nap, he came to the top of the stairs and called for Papa.  I answered back that Papa had gone to work.  “No gone to work, Mama!”  I started walking to the stairs and asked if there was anything I could do for him.  He bolted to his room saying, “I close the door!” and SLAMMED the door behind him!  He came out several minutes later and this time said, “Make a marble toy uh-me, Mama.”  Peace was made.  But not before he’d made that firm statement of protest about Papa being gone.  I am NOT the preferred parent and he wanted to make sure I knew it!

Just had another check up today.  I’ve gained another four pounds since my last appointment two weeks ago – right on track!  My fundus measurement, basically the length of my uterus, is 41cm, three more than last appointment.  What does that mean?  Well, if I was having a single baby I would probably be measuring one centimeter per week so I would be about 33cm.  So basically all the fundus measurement says about my twin-filled belly is that it is BIG!  My midwife said 38cm is usually about as far a singleton mom usually gets before delivering.  Twins.  It’s different.

Art’s dear friend Evva, whom he’s known since they were both one year old, is fascinated with me having two babies in my belly. She has told everyone she knows, according to her mom, and talks about it quite often. Why, just the last time I was over at their house she had received a gift from a relative – two baby dolls! Just like me!

A few weeks ago she made me a gift bag complete with stickers, craft materials like pom-poms and popsicle sticks, and this lovely card.  (I like how a card for someone else still bears her own name on the front.)

Here she has written me a “note” and drawn a picture of the two of us.  (Evva is on the left.  I’m the one with the two babies in my belly.  Look!  They’re smiling!)

Ben was not trying to be silly when, with a too-small hat perched on top of his head, he grabbed Art’s snow shovel to clean some sand off the lawn and load it into Lewis’s tiny wagon. It wasn’t until I ran up with the camera that he realized how silly all the parts of this scene were.

Here I am, sorting the in- and out-bound clothes for four children. Swimming in stuff that is too small, too big, just right, needs to be stored, needs to stay on hand… You get the idea. Dizzying. Thank you, Ben, for making many trips to the basement and back while I sat and made sense of all this s#*;.

Lewis is able to intensely focus on something for a long time. Today I took him to Choo Choo Bob’s to let him fully immerse himself with trains. When he’s focusing on something he often leaves his mouth ajar which I find sort of endearing. Anyway, sometimes if he’s busy with something he forgets to pee (rather, he remembers to pee but not in the potty). So during our two hour stay I took him to the bathroom THREE times. Each time he’d take a couple trains and play with them.

I was unsure how I was going to get him home since every time I mentioned that we were leaving soon he’d quickly say ‘no, Papa.’ So when the moment came I had to pick him up and take him towards the car he started crying. And the poor fellow didn’t stop till with got home. Sort of an on and off crying, whimpering and intensely devastated wailing. He wouldn’t accept hugs or any consolation. He was just really sad we had to leave those trains and that was that. He fell asleep as soon as we arrived home.

But just as Lewis able to focus for so long on those trains, he’s equally able to focus on feeling super sad about leaving them. For some reason it makes me really love Lewis knowing that he’s feeling so deeply about stuff. I understand that, you know? His little world is so simple and clear. Leaving trains is a real bummer and I’m gonna cry about for a long time and not let anyone make me feel better. Because there is no better. I had to leave them and it’s horrible. And it is!