The Curious Georges

A rose by any other name...

When I was pregnant with my first set of twins, I bought every known how-to book on parenting twins out there.  And there are lots of them!  Some of the advice was somewhat off-putting.  I remember reading that this one mom of twins affixed a sign to her stroller saying, "Yes, they are twins. No, they're not identical."  In other words, "Bug off, nosy stranger!"  I just could never imagine being so annoyed by the sweet attention of strangers.  In fact, I absolutely love it when strangers come up to me and ask if my boys are twins.  Since my "older" daughter is only 19 months senior to the boys, we even get the "Are they triplets" question.  Of course, there aren't very many witty responses to "Boy, you have your hands full," but I just gamely nod assent and say perkily, "We sure do!"  In other words, we do have our hands full, but I so love having these three little monkeys, that I'm going to stay perky and willingly bask in the attention of strangers.  It's just plain fun.  One time we were ambling with our triple-wide stroller in the Rose Garden park and there was a group of Japanese tourists that were all a-twitter over our trio.  Many of them even took our photos, which made me feel like a rock star mommy!

Anyway, I'm digressing.  The main subject of this post was on the topic of what we call Dane and Logan.  Every book I read stressed the importance of not lumping your children into a two-word moniker, such as "the boys" or "the twins."  This is considered verboten among those dogmatic twin experts.  They are not one person, they say.  They have their own names.  Well, I have to admit that 9 times out of 10, we call Dane and Logan "the boys."  I talked in a prior post about how twins do experience life a bit differently than singletons.  The early life of a twin child is not a solitary existence.  They do virtually everything together.  Look at the last post!  They were gently touching hands while they slept.  This is one of the reasons that they are lumped together with the term, "the boys."  Also, we are just so busy that this helps us say what we want to say and fast.  Believe it or not, having to say "DaneandLogan" (4 syllables) is much longer and thus less efficient than "theboys" (two syllables).  Does that sound ridiculous?  Well, in the chaotic world of twins plus a singleton, cutting out two syllables can make a huge difference.  We're all about simplifying life here.

I met a twin mom last week and she told me that the point where they had to stop calling her twins, "the boys" came when one of them thought that was his name.  Seriously.  Lucky for us, Dane and Logan know their own names so we can go on calling them "the boys" with impunity.

I find that in no way does calling Dane and Logan "the boys" diminish their individuality or sense of self.  In fact, I have never seen this be the case in any of my observations of twins.  The boys are very different kids even though their first two and a half years have been filled with virtually the same experiences.  Logie is a social butterfly and loves to clown around.  He's a dancing maniac and will start rocking out, even to music that you would normally not think would appeal to a toddler, such as ambient, "chill" type stuff usually only found in clubs and uber-hip bars.  He's very self-confident and a bit more laid back than Dane.  Dane is much more intense and does everything to the nth degree, even playing.  He tends to be a bit more quiet and introspective with new people, but a wild maniac at home.  He will not let anything get in the way of his pursuit of candy.  He has the George family single-minded drive that will hopefully carry him far in life.

As Shakespeare wrote in Romeo and Juliet, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."  I truly believe that calling Dane and Logan "the boys" has not affected their development nor will it scar them for life.  As time progresses, "the boys" may fall by the wayside and then we'll start calling them "those sullen adolescents" or some such appropriate term. 

Now, if we went around calling them "the monsters," that's quite a different story.

Native American Logie & Pilgrim Dane say "Happy Thanksgiving!"

Hangin' in the Rose Garden at 7 months

Brotherly Love Part II

A while back I did a post that used the term "brotherly love" ironically.  This is how I found them tonight.  That's the real deal.  And, yes, they're back to sleeping on the floor, especially Danie.  He likes to burrow right next to the crack of the door, where the light comes through.  The boys always get waffle-imprints on their face from the grain of the carpet, but they seem to be happy with their sleeping arrangements so I won't rock the boat.

The Boy Scout's Mom Who Got More Than She Bargained For

Today I answered the door to a shy little boy scout who mutely thrust an order form in front of me.  I looked around for a parental figure, but was distracted by the sprightly form of naked Logie Bear darting out the door.  Just moments before the knock on the door, Logan had removed all his clothes as he is wont to do these days.  Dane carped the diem too and made his escape out the front door when I noticed a maternal type in the background and assumed she belonged to the quiet boy scout.

The boy's mom was really friendly and commented on my Obama t-shirt, remarking on how consistently creative his campaign imagery has been.  She went on to say that she just moved to Austin from Plano and that a few weeks ago, she had been going door-to-door in support of Obama.  I immediately launched into my "Oh, he went to school with my husband in Hawaii."  I then went on to tell her all about the prestigious Punahou, how the public schools in Hawaii aren't good, how Steve Case, the founder of AOL, went to Punahou, and how Barack was known as "Barry" in those days.  On and on.  When I went into the house to get the check for the $9 popcorn that I was buying from her son, I even dragged out Barton's 3rd grade yearbook and showed her the photos of Barry clowning around.  At this point, this woman is probably wishing she had skipped our house.

Moral of this story.  If you ever have someone at your door trying to sell you something, turn the tables and start talking their ear off.

Anyway, it is true that Barton went to Punahou with Mr. Obama.  I wrote a blog about it a while back.  Good old US Magazine even picked up the photo of Barack/Barry pretending to choke himself at the Pencil Chewers Convention.  Punahou boasts alumni with achievements across many disciplines, from sports to business to politics.  Then there's my alma mater, Edison High School, that produced a rock star (Scott Weiland of Stone Temple Pilots), a television actor (Willie Ames) who ended up on drugs and then found religion, a Baywatch girl, and a smattering of athletes (Joy Fawcett, Jeff Kent, Donnie Hill).  The reasons for this obvious disparity are many and too intricate to dissect at the end of a long day, but I will say that based on what I've seen of Punahou, it's a top-notch institution and Barack's mother was wise to educate him there, even though she had to send him to Hawaii to live with his grandparents to do so.  Only a few more weeks to see if his mother's prescience paid off ...

The Bleach Boys

This morning, I left the room for five minutes to brush my teeth when Dane and Logan got into the cabinet under the sink (with the "child-proof" latch).  They found a spray bottle of diluted bleach and it was Party Time!  Dane managed to find the one way to stain his navy blue school uniform shirt.  Logan was able to keep the bleach off his shirt, but some of it must have landed on his mouth because he was spitting in disgust when I frantically emerged on the scene. 

This was not funny.  They could have been severely injured.  I felt post-traumatic all day.  The Montessori method talks about having children learn through natural consequences.  In other words, if they refuse to wear their mittens, let them have cold hands.  If they refuse to eat, let them go hungry for a meal.  If they play with bleach ...  yikes!  The natural consequence of this is just too scary to contemplate.  

On list of things to do ... have Barton install padlock on cabinet for cleaning supplies.

 

Clowning around in mommy's Ugg boots ... much safer than playing with bleach

Nonplussed

I love words, but I don't love the word "nonplussed."  This has to be one of the most misused words in the English language.  Logically, the word sounds like it would mean blase, underwhelmed or untroubled.  You take the negative "non" and put it with the positive "plussed" and it would seem that they would cancel each other out, producing a word to describe a non-reaction ... sort of the null and void of the word world.  But, noooo, here's the real definition:

non·plus

 (nn-pls)

tr.v. non·plused also non·plussed, non·plus·ing also non·plus·sing, non·plus·es also non·plus·ses

To put at a loss as to what to think, say, or do; bewilder.

n.

A state of perplexity, confusion, or bewilderment.

This is the opposite of being underwhelmed.  It is being so taken aback that one doesn't know how to react.  Apparently, the incorrect usage of this term is trying to edge out the correct usage.  According to the MSN dictionary, "nonplussed is increasingly used in the almost opposite sense of 'untroubled,' especially in U.S. English (Nonplussed by the criticism, she continued to direct her films in the very same offbeat manner for which she was famed.). This new meaning is not yet accepted as standard, and it may cause ambiguity in sentences such as He seemed nonplussed by the news."

Barton and I often joke about "nonplussed," using it in sentences to describe a blase reaction, then adding, "in the incorrect sense of the word."  Does that make us word geeks?

Anyhoo, Dane and Logan have embarked into the world of potty training and they are the opposite of "nonplussed" (in the incorrect sense of the word).  To say that they are excited about using the Bjorn bear potty or mommy and daddy's big potty would be putting it mildly.  This has been brought about with absolutely no encouragement on my part.  I know how hard it is to keep up with just one child in the throes of potty-training, let alone two, so I've just been putting it off.  This has not dissuaded Dane or Logie in the least.  They just drop trow and do their business.  It has definitely been a messy affair since they insist on throwing the pee from the Bjorn potty into our porcelain one.  I still haven't put them in underwear so maybe we can stall this process a while longer?  I know, this must make me the world's worst mom, but I'm just trying to maintain my sanity -- no small feat at Casa de George.


Toilets can be fascinating

Butterflies & Buzz Cuts

Haircuts are so traumatic for our Boy Georges that we decided to give them military haircuts in an effort to reduce the frequency of these painful events.  I can't say I love the results, but luckily (and unluckily), hair grows fast (especially the hair of these little mop-heads).

 

In an earlier post, I was commenting on the abundance of flora and fauna in Austin.  Spotting raccoons and deer is wonderful, but discovering that I was sharing the shower yesterday with a tiny scorpion was not so wonderful.  We live right on a greenbelt so since humans have usurped their land, various not-so-welcome critters often feel they have the right to invade our homes.  What's fair is fair I guess.

On a more aesthetically pleasing note, I caught a shot of this butterfly today.   As for the weather, it was only in the 90's today, which is pleasingly cool for Austin.

La Mariposa Bonita

Orange You Nice

Yesterday I took the boys to a pint-sized amusement park called Kiddie Acres.   This place is so cute you just want to pinch its cheeks.  It also has a nostalgic feel, which is probably because the rides look like they've been around since the 1920's.  Ever the vigilant mom, I checked the inspection reports on the rides and they all get the safety seal of approval so even if the rides are nearly 100 years old, at least they aren't going to fall apart on us.

We had tried Kiddie Acres about a year ago, but the majority of our little Georges were not ready for ponies, little boat rides or carousels.  We spent most of the time chasing around Dane and Logan, who of course, were bee-lining in different directions.  This time was a lot more successful.  The boys loved the rides, although Danie had this routine where he'd go on the ride for 10 seconds, get scared, want to get off, then immediately want to get right back on again.  That's the George Family perseverance I was talking to you about.  Logie liked everything right off the bat.

Orange was the color of the day for Dane.  Orange car, orange boat, orange plane.  Then we went grocery shopping at HEB (yes, you non-Texans, our local grocery store has a decidedly hick name, but it actually offers quality food and has quite a variety of products).   Anyway, at HEB, they entice the "kiddos" to stay quiet and compliant by giving them balloons with lollipops attached.  I guess they figure the kids will go into a sugar coma.  Dane and Logan are balloon/lollipop addicts and yesterday, Dane insisted on ... what color lollipop?  Yep ... orange!  His actual words were "orange rollipop."  For some reason, all three kids say "rollipop." 

So Dane got the last orange "rollipop" and then Logan was clamoring for the same.  Purple, red or green just wouldn't do, even though mom was doing her darndest to get each color to sound like the most WONDERFUL lollipop flavor known to man, woman or child.  But, Logie wasn't buying it.  Only orange would do.  So, much to my surprise and the surprise of the man doling out the balloons, Dane handed his prized orange lollipop to the increasingly distraught Logie.  Awwww, this just melted my heart!

After HEB, we headed to the pediatrician to have a look at Logan's ankles.  Seems some pesky ants had done a number on the poor guy.  It turns out that they were severely infected, prompting a prescription of oral antibiotics for 3x/day for 10 days.  Yikes!  Apparently, this stuff tastes toxic and even with the wonderful grape flavoring, Logie immediately spit the medicine out.  Barton and I were covered by a spray of cloyingly grape-flavored yuck.  I guess we could call that "Grape to meet you"  or "Purple Haze."  Okay, I apologize for all the bad puns.  Sometimes I can't help myself.   Only 26 more doses of the Antibiotic From Hell to go...

Little Big Top

Ride 'em Cowboy!!

Sharing an orange car; Dane & Logan's friend Audrey rides behind them

Note:  Logan's shirt says "Caution, I Wreck Things" and Dane's slogan is "What happens in preschool, stays in preschool"

The Toddler Whisperer

I just checked on the boys and they're asleep ... drumroll please ... in their beds!  Are the planets aligned or are they just in a compliant mood?  I have a one-word answer:  Dora.  Dora is our wonderful nanny and she has a way with my wild things.  They actually nap for her.  They usually sit in their seats during meals when she's around.  They listen to her.  How does she do it?  I honestly don't know, even though I've tried to uncover her secrets.  Even when I follow her instructions to the letter, it just doesn't work.  One day scientists will de-mystify the phenomenon of children behaving for everyone, except their parents.  Maybe if I had the name of one of their beloved animated characters it would help.  How does Nemo George sound?

Dora & Dane

Door #2

This is how I found them tonight.  There are no words ...

A particularly raucous evening for The George Boys

Notice the torn-up book.  I'm not sure how they got a hold of that.

Yes, skeptical viewer, he's really sleeping like this! 

Huh?

Every night Barton and I play "What's behind Door #2?"  Door #2 opens into the boys' room and we never quite know what to expect.  Last night was a another whopper.  When I opened the door to their room, the room was divided by an imaginary line into "neat" and "mess."  The entire left side of the room was in perfect order; the right side looked like a bomb had gone off, including the glaringly ajar right shutter.  It's hard to believe that this segregation was accidental, but we'll never know.  Preferring chaos to tidiness, the boys made a nest amidst the clutter on the right side.  What's next?  Stonehenge, Dane & Logie style?

HOW TO BAFFLE YOUR PARENTS IN 3 EASY STEPS:

STEP ONE :  Keep left side of room perfectly neat.

STEP TWO:  Throw toys, stuffed animals & blankets on right side of room only.  Open right shutter.  Avoid crossing line into neat zone.

STEP THREE:  Fall asleep in detritus.  Congratulations, Project Bafflement successful!