Category Archives: Family Stories

December 6, 2010

Christmas is Coming, The Goose is Getting Fat

Reading with GrammaJ

When GrammaJ came to visit us this weekend, she looked at our squirmy little muppets and exclaimed how big they are getting. Before we know it, we’ll be closing out the year. This weekend we kicked off the holidays.

On Friday, Jon and Uncle Jeffrey trekked up to the Santa Cruz mountains to cut down a fresh Christmas tree. We’ve always had a fake tree before, so this was our first step toward going all out for the muppets first Yuletide. “That was a lot more difficult than I expected!” Jon announced upon their return.

I think the expectation was that it would be similar to a tree lot. Instead, there was a hill. With trees. “Can I help you?” the guy in the booth asked them. “You have any trees?” Jon replied deadpan? The guy in the booth gestured out to the hill. “We’ve got those.” He handed them a chainsaw and returned to his business.

They wandered the hillside looking for the perfect tree. Although Jon seemed a bit concerned that the winning selection wasn’t as perfect as its plastic predecessor, I am extremely impressed with the one they found. (Charlie Brown, eat your heart out…) Our living room smells amazing! I’d forgotten how awesome it is to walk into a room and be engulfed in the spirit of Christmas (also known as the scent of a Douglas Fir tree).

Tangent: I smell every candle I can find that claims to be that mix of Christmas tree and spiced pinecones. I have yet to find one that comes close to the real thing, so for Christmas’ past, I’d simply liberate fallen branches from the trees sold in front of grocery stores.

After I finished baking a spiced pumpkin roll and Yule Log, (I know, I used my kitchen! These are holiday traditions that must be had – even if the muppets are too young to enjoy them first hand.) we decked the tree. The soft white lights brighten the room and transform the shrubbery from mere foliage to a true holiday symbol. Interestingly, it’s a lot more difficult to hang ornaments on a real tree. The branches are far flimsier. Growing up, Santa left my brother and me an ornament every Christmas. So every year, decorating for the year-end holidays becomes a nostalgic trip down memory lane.

I certainly don’t deny that the winter holidays have always been my favorite time of year. But adding to my frenzied preparations is the hope of starting new traditions with my new family. I remember waking up with my brother every half hour. “Mom! Is it Christmas yet?” I remember Paul and I running to the tree on Christmas morning while Mom and Dad ran equally excited toward the coffee maker. We’d spend the afternoons with family and friends, culminating in a big celebratory dinner.

I want this time of year to be as exciting for Search and Destroy as they grow up, so they can write a similar blog post when they’re great big adults reminiscing about their childhood as they hang years of ornaments celebrating and reminding them of a happy childhood.

The muppets have certainly been good this year; I can only assume they are exceedingly high on Santa’s “nice” list.

What is your favorite holiday tradition?

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November 27, 2010

The First Thanksgiving

Family and Friends

The Muppets First Thanksgiving special was quite a day. We celebrated with family friends and counted our blessings for all we had to be thankful for many times.

The muppets are still too young to really understand what’s going on around them. They’re far more fascinated by the recent discovery that their entire little fist fits into their mouth. But much as the same as it was with Halloween, we celebrated enough for all.

Our feast was being prepared in Sacramento, at Momm’s house. Momm is my college roommate’s mother (two “Ms” since she was the second mom while I was away). I volunteered to bring Seafoam Jello and Chocolate Silk Pie. However, upon further reflection, it dawned on me that Sacramento was likely a three-hour drive and such a trek might not be phenomenally conducive for a Jello dish.

G.G.’s pumpkin bread it was! Growing up, G.G.’s pumpkin bread was the famous staple of the holiday feasts. One of my cousins moved to Italy a few years back. She attempted to recreate Thanksgiving for her fiancés family, to give them a taste of home. G.G.’s pumpkin bread was requested via airmail. It’s that good. Uncle Paul puts it on his Christmas wish list every year. And this is truly saying something for my extraordinarily non-culinary family.

Jon and I decided to depart at dawn so we could spend a full day giving thanks. Naturally, we had no need for an alarm clock. The muppets woke us up at 5 a.m.; we were out the door in record time: by 8 a.m. We’d packed the night before so we wouldn’t be scurrying around in the morning. For a non-overnight, simple day trip, we brought an entire truckload worth of stuff. Thankfully, we managed to squeeze everything into the Pilot and avoid the need for a U-Haul.

Auntie Beeca texted me saying that she might cry with excitement. So I knew right then it was the muppets she was excited to see – not me. Ah, the life of a parent. The gathering consisted of Momm, Auntie Beeca, her husband and one-year-old daughter, Leila. I was just as excited to see her little one.

To the untrained eye, it likely looked as though we were arriving for several months. To the parent of a young child, it appeared as though we were simply dropping in to quickly say hello.

Introductions were made and the celebrating began. Momm (now Nana) fussed over all her grandkids. Leila was mesmerized by the muppets. Her dad didn’t seem terribly thrilled about his daughter’s interest in two very handsome younger men.

As we waited for the bird to cook, the delicious smells began to fill the house, adding to the warmth and cheer. Certainly not fasting before the feast, Search finished his mid-morning snack and arfed. On to outfit No. 2.

We then decided to go for a walk around the lake while Nana focused on foodstuffs. As four thirty-somethings, the walk would likely have taken us 20 minutes. It took us at least an hour to get bundled up to leave the house. With freezing morning temperatures, we were taking extra care to bundle our babes. Finally, we wheeled our way out to the walkway. Then we looked at each other realizing, “It’s not really all that cold anymore…”

After a lovely walk that was really a meandering toddle, we returned to the house for the muppets lunch. Destroy’s digestive system decided to clear itself in preparation for the big meal. There really is no delicate way to change a diaper blowout when you’re a guest in someone’s home. Auntie Beeca just laughed, saying, “You’re family.”

Then it was time. The turkey was ready. There was a frantic scurry (complete with uptempo classical music) as all the sides were heated and plated. Leila seemed to favor the mashed potatoes – although I’m not sure she ate nearly as many as she decided to wear…

Food, family, friends and fun. The muppets first Thanksgiving will be one for the memory books.

I love the holidays!

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November 21, 2010

Doggie Dilemma

The muppets were having a grand time exploring and discovering this evening. Search was hanging out in the Bumbo chair and Destroy was enjoying some tummy time. He can practically push himself all the way up onto his elbows.

“Look at you, Destroy!” I cheered, “Good job!” He lifted his little head up an impressive 90 degrees, grinning. He was extremely pleased with himself. He looked directly at me, laughed, arfed and face-planted. Looking slightly less pleased, he looked back up – completely covered in baby vomit.

I scooped him up as he contemplated what had just happened. He clearly had not anticipated that; he wasn’t crying, merely a bit disconcerted. As I wiped off his face, ears, neck, head and collar, I heard paper ripping in the other room.

Scout

“Scout! Bad dog!”

I quickly put Destroy down and left him and his brother laughing hysterically to one another.

Scout had nosed his way into the office, pulled a packing slip out of a box, returned to the front of the house and ripped the paper in half. He shreds paper products. (Like my birthday present.)

One of the most popular questions Jon and I get asked is about how our furry four-legged sons are tolerating the muppets. I suspect they think the muppets are puppies; Cooper thinks they’re duds since they don’t throw tennis balls. Scout just loves his people and wants to spend as much time with them. Their dilemma these days is how to get away with their mischief when Mom and Dad are distracted.

We’ve always had dogs with unique personalities. Scout, of course, has the passion for paper. He also dines on cardboard and gift cards… The first day we left Scout home alone, we returned to find that our retriever had collected every shoe in the house and transported them to the front rug. “Look Mom! I retrieved!”

He’s since moved on from shoes. I think he may have gotten his fill of leather after consuming Jon’s work boots and two baseball gloves. Now he searches out paper products to destroy.

Cooper

Cooper is a bit stealthier. Uncle Paul calls him “The Inspector” because he needs to completely examine his surroundings before turning his attention to anything else. Three years ago, right around this time of year, I decided to make gingerbread men. (They turned out quite tasty if I do say so myself.) I took a break from folding laundry to get a drink of water where I happened upon Cooper in the kitchen, perched on his back legs. He had jumped up on the counter, pulled the plate of cookies toward him and was eating them one at a time. There was no mess, no remaining cookie out of place.

Like a scene out of a sitcom, I stared at the dog and he stared back at me – paws still atop the counter. I could see the wheels turning in his canine cranium as he tried to hatch an escape plan. But then who would throw the tennis balls?

I know our four kids will get along famously. (That’s a terrifying thought.) And I’m sure the gang will provide some memorable stories to be shared here. As for tonight’s caper caught in progress, the muppets thought it was hilarious.

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November 15, 2010

Dirty Thirty

Today, I am 30. It feels surprisingly similar to 29.

Whoever coined the term “dirty thirty” obviously had kids – my third decade is already filled with dirt, mud, spit-up and baby poop. And it has been an amazing birthday weekend. Because this is my first birthday as a mom.

The one thing I wanted most was for G.G. to meet the muppets. So the weekend began with an auspicious start. On Sunday, the muppets had a Welcome Home shower. How many kids are lucky enough to attend their own baby shower?

I was slightly nervous about what to wear; I haven’t had many opportunities to dress up in the past six months. And since the muppets arrived, my body has decided to rearrange its weight carriage so it’s always a fun surprise to see if an outfit will fit on any given morning. I chose a little black dress – seemed safe, can’t go wrong with that. The first dress fit on the first try. Success! I matched the dress with some fabulous patent leather peep-toe pumps and completed the outfit with the Tahitian pearls Jon got for me on our honeymoon. (Little things excite me these days.)

I strutted into the nursery to make the muppets even cuter. (I know, very hard to do.) I asked the boys what they wanted to wear. The selection process was based on which outfit elicited a smile and giggle. Search picked out a pair of khaki pants with a very preppy sweater, and Destroy chose a pair of plaid overalls. We were ready to go.

I felt good. Our last attempt at a baby shower didn’t go so well. I concluded that weekend on lockdown for my final hospital stint, before we began our adventure with preemies. But this weekend, I was healthy, but so much more importantly – the muppets are healthy. Even their cold from the previous week has completely cleared up.

I scooped up Destroy and headed down the stairs. It was time to play the music, time to light the lights. Time to meet the muppets on the muppet show tonight. Search and Destroy were ready for their close-up.

Blarf.

No sooner did I hit the bottom step, then Destroy arfed on me. Did you know baby arf is white? And have I mentioned I’d chosen to wear a black dress? Well that was no longer going to happen. Destroy looked up at me and giggled, his outfit was still perfectly clean. I whirled around in my no longer applicable patent leather peep-toe pumps and headed back up the stairs to find outfit the second.

Once we (meaning I) had changed into a non-pukey outfit, the muppets, GrammaJ and G.G. loaded ourselves into the car and headed off to the shower. If I may take this moment to be uber shmoopy, I am really blessed to have so many wonderful friends and family who came out to a doubles-themed shower: Doublemint gum, Twix and a delicious menu with two options for every course.

Since GrammaJ and G.G. had to head back to the badlands early this morning, we decided to celebrate last night. G.G. suddenly exclaimed that she couldn’t find the gift she’d gotten me. She retraced her steps. Our black lab Scout chose that moment to slink out into the garage. Well, drat. Jon headed out after the dog, flashlight in hand, to attempt to locate whatever Scout had dragged out. We found half a bite of the card. It will certainly be an evening to remember.

My dog ate my birthday present.

I was sad to say goodbye to GrammaJ and G.G. this morning. It was a fast-paced entertaining weekend and I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present than to see G.G. enjoy muppet smiles and twin giggles.

So today, I am 30. And tonight, I will spend a very chill birthday evening surrounded by my five boys. Pure bliss… Thirty’s going to be a good year.

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November 14, 2010

G.G.

Cameras and paparazzi at the ready – my grandmother met the muppets this weekend.

GrammaJ and G.G. (short for Great Grandma) arrived on Friday night after a much-delayed flight. Sadly, a morning mechanical issue somewhere in Baltimore prevented G.G. from getting to meet the muppets on Friday. They were fast asleep when we got home.

Saturday morning I awoke to rumblings in the nursery. With a distinct lack of lightening quick reflexes, I rolled over in bed and willed my eyes to open – the boys weren’t screaming yet, so I still had hope for five more minutes. (Won’t they think this story is funny when they’re whining “just five more minutes Mom…” as I try to wake them up for school?) As I slowly entered a slightly more conscious state-of-being, it occurred to me that I could comprehend the nursery mumbles.

I wandered into the boys’ room and found G.G. snuggling with Search as the two rocked back and forth in the glider. They were having quite a conversation – apparently Search had a lot of stories to share. G.G. looked up at me and smiled, “I just couldn’t wait one more minute to meet the honies.”

I’m pretty sure there is some sort of physiological change that occurs when one becomes a grandmother. The brain matter alters and pheromones morph into a baby-soothing drug. Now, much like twins are double the trouble, a great-grandma is twice as nice. Both Search and Destroy spent the entire weekend cooing, chatting and laughing.

Both G.G. and GrammaJ commented that our living room was distinctly beginning to take on the feel of a Toys R Us store. I have a friend who is determined not to let her house turn over to the kids – I have failed miserable at this task. The muppets have all kinds of gizmos and gadgets, special seats and swings. GrammaJ was fascinated with the Bumbo chair.

A Bumbo chair is a foam seat that is designed to support tiny babies and allow them to sit upright, before they can sit on their own. Destroy does not like this contraption. He a) does not like to sit and b) doesn’t really fit. Pudge’s tummy gets in the way of the support so he ends up leaning back awkwardly and screaming to get out. G.G. and I could not stop laughing at GrammaJ’s attempts to convince Destroy to sit in his swanky little seat.

He would much rather stand. When he is lifted over the chair, instead of bending his chubbly little legs, he will arch his back – throwing his head as far back as he can – and then straighten himself out as stiff as a board. So much for cooperation…

So G.G. picked up the cranky muppet, who immediately cuddled up in her lap, eyes wide open as though expecting a story. G.G. and GrammaJ? There was little to no chance of a nap. GrammaJ noted that I was never a great napper – there were things to be done and adventures to be had! G.G. then pointed out that GrammaJ was a quick kid to give up her morning nap as well. And that’s when we learned about the perfume.

Shockingly, this is a family story I had never heard before. This was the muppets first Grandma Winnie story, and it was such a treat to have it involve the mischief makings of my mother.

GrammaJ was about three. G.G. put her down for her morning nap – since she was a big kid, she was dozing on G.G.’s bed. Closing the door gently behind her, G.G. left her sleeping little angel to explore dreamland and went about some of her daily chores.

A while later, G.G. returned to her room. GrammaJ was no longer on the bed. G.G. scanned the room to find Gramma J perched atop the dresser. She looked positively pleased with herself – having scaled the drawers to reach her conquest: mom’s perfume.

She smelled fantastic. G.G. noticed her perfume bottle was lying on its side, with a bit of the contents dripping out onto the wood finish. GrammaJ grinned. “Look at what I have accomplished!” her smile seemed to say. She had drunk the perfume.

G.G. immediately called the doctor. “Well, it’s mostly alcohol. She’s probably just a bit tipsy. But I bet she smells nice.”

I have a strong suspicion that this same scenario would play out very different for this generation. I don’t foresee myself being nearly calm enough to chuckle about an inebriated babe – poison control and emergencies rooms would be in their future.

My weekend with the grandmas was far too short. But I am so excited that the muppets finally got to meet their great-grandmother (and Search’s namesake). It was certainly a fun-filled celebratory weekend, which is why I’ve been slightly MIA for the past several days. I will post pictures and share more of the adventures tomorrow.

As I close out the final evening of my twenties, it makes me smile to feel like a kid again listening to Grandma’s stories. Tomorrow, it’s a new decade – my third.

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November 10, 2010

Mini Me

The muppets are finally feeling better. Sick muppets are stressful.

This past weekend, they finally began recovering just enough to realize they did not feel good. So we had an extreme “hold me” weekend. Search was at least content to lie beside me. Destroy would not rest his well-exercised lungs unless he was firmly ensconced in my arms. On the positive side, Destroy’s continued screams did help clear our some of his congestion.

Needless to say, there was not much time for blogging endeavors.

Grandma Nancy stopped by on Tuesday to visit for the afternoon. Naturally, they immediately transformed into perfect angels. But hey – I’m not picky in the manner with which I encounter happy giggly muppets.

This was Grandma Nancy’s first extended stay alone with the boys. (So I do not begrudge her the halo effect even a little – it means she’ll come back for additional extended alone stays…) Rumor has it the conversations among the three took several trips down memory lane. (You’ve seen the Nanny Diaries documentary; the muppets converse regularly now.)

A popular question asked of me, other than “are they identical,” is “who do they look like?” And who better to confirm such a question than Grandma. The winning answer?

Jon. The muppets look like Dad.

Unlike animated Disney offspring, where sons are carbon copies of their father, the muppets do have some of my features. Search, for example, has inherited the trademark pointy chin found on my side of the family. And he has a similar body type to my baby self – longer and leaner. Destroy, in contrast, has more of a Michelin Man body type, round and rolly.

See for yourself.

Did your children look just like you? Or did you look just like one of your parents?

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October 29, 2010

The Great Pumpkin Heist

The muppets are in bed. Last night, they slept for nine hours. I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised – they’ve had a busy week.

Yesterday, they came to visit me at work – in costume. With so many colors, lights and new people moving all around them, it was quite a bit to take in. Tomorrow we celebrate – in costume again – at a Halloween brunch, followed by candy and trick-or-treaters on Sunday. Before bed tonight, we watched “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown.” That cartoon, along with picking out a pumpkin from the pumpkin patch, are some of my favorite spooktacular memories of childhood.

As G.G. mentioned in the Tiny Disguises post, Halloween has become quite an important holiday – at least in terms of childhood memories. So, in anticipation of the muppets future memories, we decided to tell scary stories reminiscing about the past.

Much like me, a pumpkin from the patch was a traditional part of the haunted holiday for Aunt J. One year, Joanne became determined to procure a “real” carved pumpkin. Back in the days before open land was parceled into suburban track homes, there was a 40-acre field across from the house she lived in – where a farmer happened to have a bumper crop of autumn fruit.

Her best friend (and trouble-courting sisters) had already successfully managed pluck their own from the farmer’s field. They said it was easy. All she had to do was walk onto the field and chose her favorite.

Joanne was young, daring, adventurous and innocent. She decided she was brave enough to attempt the perfect great pumpkin heist. She had the courage, naiveté and peer encouragement. What she did not have, however, was timing. The caper commenced right after school, at the mysterious witching hour of mid-afternoon. She approached the field with caution and selected the prime, perfect, plump pumpkin. Then she started making her way home.

G.G. and Gramma J were watching the caper from afar.

Joanne saw them. She did not see the farmer watching her every move. As she crossed the field, so close to completing her mission, the farmer headed her off at the pass. Joanne froze. Her pumpkin splattered.

And she high-tailed it out of that field as fast as her little legs could carry her. Trembling, and scared to death, the budding criminal was bursting with adrenaline as she galloped across field – the farmer on his tractor in hot pursuit.

Gravely concerned for their daugher/sister’s well being, G.G. and Gramma J practically collapsed, convulsing in hysterical laughter.

Joanne did not return home with her pumpkin.

Boys – do not steal pumpkins. We will make our own adventures at the pumpkin patch.

 

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October 14, 2010

Sleep

I left the house without my keys this morning. I walked out the front door and stood in front of my car for a full minute, trying to process the problem facing me. Finally, it occurred to me that since the car was locked, I should find someway of altering that situation. I went back inside and promptly forgot why I’d done that.

Back in college, we used to joke that, “Sleep is a crutch!” We’d stay up until the wee hours of the morning talking, then drag ourselves – bleary-eyed – to any class that had the audacity to take place before noon. For two years, I participated in Children’s Theatre. This class required me to be present at 7 a.m., before we costumed up and went to perform teachable lessons at school assemblies around the Bay Area. That is the full extent of my memories of the program. I may have even slept-walked through a couple performances. (I do recall dressing up as a mama bear and a gypsy…)

Then I landed a job that required my tushy to be in my chair at my desk by 6 a.m. (NYSE hours). I still occasionally stayed up through the wee hours – but my definition of “wee hours” rapidly changed: any point on the clock involving double-digits. (In hindsight, I don’t think I’ll even specify between standard and military time.)

Interestingly enough, the muppets have been sleeping far more these days – practically through the night. We even had a stint from 10 p.m. to 5 a.m. this week. But the stress and sleep deprivation of these past five months is starting to catch up with me. I am now fully aware of why they call it “mommy brain.”

A recent Yahoo! Health article points out some of the most common sleep misconceptions. Number one is that people can be “short sleepers.” The article goes on to say that the majority of adults need at least 7-8 hours of sleep, per night, to remain healthy. These scientists obviously do not have children.

According to BabyCenter.com, most muppet-aged babies (I’m averaging actual and adjusted ages) sleep a total of 12 to 15 hours a day, including nighttime sleep and naps. And, around three months, little ones begin to develop more of a regular sleep/wake cycle and no longer require as many midnight snacks.

But in addition to sleeping more at night, Search and Destroy are far more alert during the day. It’s awesome to see them looking around, wide-eyed, as they take in everything new to the world for them. I may complain about the exhaustion from being “on” 24/7, but their discoveries certainly put a new perspective on things.

I have no idea what I’m doing as a new mom. I’m sure being on high-alert in anticipation of their next adventure is what makes me tired – well, that waking up at their every movement to make sure they’re okay. But that absolutely must pale with the exhaustion from trying to learn how to live.

Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure their wonder of learning all things new and exciting includes the genetic predisposition of “Sleep is a crutch!” Why sleep when stuff might be happening?!

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October 11, 2010

Mary Poppins

Great news – we still have a nanny.

Several months ago, while the muppets were still hanging out in the NICU, I went to lunch with a dear friend. Upon completion of our meal, we discovered the keys to her car were locked in the trunk. So, we perched ourselves on a nearby patch of grass and began to chat about childcare as we waited for her husband to arrive with a rescue set of keys.

Her son, an adorable two and a half year old, had outgrown his personal nanny. My friend was lamenting that fact, and wanted to find a new home for this wonderful nanny. Around this point in time, it occurred to me that when the muppets came home from the hospital, I would be returning to work a mere 24 days later.

We were going to need childcare.

I was paranoid. Who was I going to leave my little muppets with? After all, these are special muppets – their care is not to be taken lightly. My friend mentioned that their nanny was looking for part time work. She began telling me about this allegedly fabulous caregiver, Holly.

Holly was a long-time family friend. Her educational background was in early childhood development. She’d spent a number of years nannying before becoming a teacher. Then she became pregnant – her son was born premature, and she quit teaching to raise her own kids. Now that her kids are big school-aged peoples, she’s back in the nannying game.

My mouth was agape. We had located Marry Poppins. Holly was practically perfect in every way. I began phone and Facebook stalking her. We MUST have her as our nanny. I was on a mission.

A couple weeks after the muppets came home and a couple weeks before I went back to work we succeeded! Holly would be watching Search and Destroy on Mondays. (She even sings to them. And goodness knows having Mom sing to them is more like a punishment – no matter how much they seem to like music.) It was love at first sight. We had a good deal going.

The end of the first month with Holly came, and I wrote her a check as we had agreed upon. And that’s when the bank tried to throw a wrench in our arrangement. Holly decided to cash the check. This seemed like a logical move in both our minds. The bank thought otherwise.

I was typing away on my computer at work when my phone buzzed. (I don’t get reception in the heart of Silicon Valley where I work, so my phone was alerting me to a voicemail.) It was the bank. They wanted to speak with me because there was a woman trying to cash a suspicious check.

“We have a “Holly” trying to cash a check allegedly issued by you.”

“That’s our nanny,” I assured the bank man. “Please pay the woman.” Turns out, they’d already sent her away. Check in hand, but no cash. Now, I understand that they are concerned about fraudulent activities, and I appreciate that. (This begs the whole other question of why they sent her away with the check if they thought she was a master criminal…) But I just wanted to assure them that they should, in fact, give her the money as noted in the very much valid and real check.

The bank man then explained that the reason they were so concerned about the possibility of fraud is because there was only $6 in my account. This concerned me immensely. I got a bank manager on the line and explained that if there was only $6 in my account, we needed to step away from the valid nanny payment and begin discussing police reports. Problem was, I was looking at my account info online. And all appeared well in cyberland.

“Ohhh,” the bank manager finally sighed. “It appears we were looking at your credit card balance. Sorry.”

Fabulous. I immediately called Holly, apologizing profusely. I repeatedly assure her the funds existed and that her new family was not a bunch of deadbeats. Thankfully, she found the entire situation humorous (far more so than I).

Imagine my relief that she still loves us. This morning, when Holly arrived, Search and I greeted her at the door. Search welcomed her with a giant smile. Muppet approved.

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October 10, 2010

Zio and Zia

The muppets and I have just returned from the airport. After a fun-filled weekend whirl of a visit, the muppets reluctantly agreed to release Paul and Stephanie back to the badlands.

Somewhere in an album, hidden away in my parents’ closet, is a photo of me holding Paul. I’m three; Paul is perhaps three months. He is slouching down and looking very concerned that someone thought it was a good idea to hand the newborn to the toddler. What a different picture this weekend – now it’s Paul holding the babies. (Although, there were certainly some of the same concerned looks…)

The newly engaged couple arrived on Friday evening. Since the muppets didn’t appear interested in sleeping, both were wide-awake and ready to meet their new family. Stephanie didn’t make it two steps into the house before her arms were outstretched for a little man. In the arms of the adorably pocket-sized Steph, the boys looked ginormous. Paul smiled and admired them from a distance.

Uncle Paul and Aunt Steph had procured stuffed animals for the muppets during their engagement excursion in Hawaii. A green sea turtle with giant bug eyes and a soft grey dolphin. Naturally, I was very excited about the turtle. Paul noted that even though everyone (from purchase through delivery) seemed to get so excited about the turtle, he’d picked out the dolphin. Brothers-in-arms, Destroy was fully on his side regarding his favorite animal. He hugged the dolphin close and snuggled into my chest with his new toy. In contrast, he eyed the turtle very warily. I do not think he was a fan – in retrospect, it may have been the bug-eyes that threw him.

Saturday morning, I heard Paul pacing near the bottom of the stairs. Search had finished breakfast but was not content to sit back and give his brother a chance to fill his tummy. So, I instructed Paul to join me in the nursery and make himself useful. He sat down and I put Search in his lap. Search and Paul were wearing matching concerned looks. Paul was so afraid to move, he asked Stephanie to itch his eyebrow for him. He became a lot more comfortable as the hours passed.

We spent the rest of the morning in the living room as Paul explained the merits of college football to the next generation quarterback and linebacker. Destroy looked up at Paul wide-eyed and arfed. Not to be outdone by his brother, Search waited for Paul to feed him and had a major diaper blowout. But both, feeling better with more room in their tummies, rewarded Paul with a grin.

(Not the actual wedding dress)

The muppets were very spoiled. The slightest muppet noise or coo and Steph had them scooped up into her arms. Smiles were had by all.

Sunday was wedding focused. The love-birds met with a photographer (my favorite, Keary Dee) and then we bundled up the boys and went to try on wedding dresses. Paul was in charge of babysitting the twins. Auntie Ivy was on hand to babysit Paul as needed. (Turns out she wasn’t.) Aunt Steph is going to be an amazingly gorgeous bride.

Despite my best efforts, I don’t see the two abandoning their new beach house to move up north. They were such a help and great with the boys. And I can tell the muppets love them just as much. In fact, I think the muppets would like them to come back. Soon.

In the meantime, since Paul and Steph have just moved into their new home, I shall make it my responsibility to ensure an appropriate number of muppet photos are proudly displayed in each room.

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