Pre-verbal: Me or them?

The twins are pre-verbal.
But they have definite opinions, wants, needs, desires, and in a nod to being almost 19-month-olds, they even have things they want so bad that they are now crumbling to the ground in impatient cries-screams when they can't get what they want.
I don't remember it being this intense with Ethan.  Maybe because then it was 2-on-1.  Now, it's zone defence at best.
I have a strong memory of how pre-verbal Ethan would experience this kind of frustration as he tried to put together train track.  I had so much energy to focus-in on him and be with him in that frustration and problem solve to help him move through it.
The twins are confronted everyday with toys that are not age-appropriate, some they can't have bc of child-proofing and some they can have, well, not really.  Oliver is in that "chucking" stage.  Give him access to something like wooden train track or a matchbox car, and it becomes dangerous.  He smacked me in the forehead tonight when in one fell swoop he picked up a matchbox-ice-cream-truck and threw it straight at me. That's not how I like my ice cream.
The sounds in our house that these pre-verbal beings emit are making me weary...the almost constant whine, cry, scream...each child having his/her own intonations that usually indicate whether an injury and injustice has occurred.
I've had to catch myself that the first word coming out of my mouth quite often has been, "Ethan" in response to one of these cries.  He often has some role to play in the injury/injustice that is being reported, but it's not  fair that the first verbal word that I have in response to non-verbal frustration is one of judge-and-jury.
In trying to be more compassionate in my larger life, I'm trying to connect with the pre-verbal twins in a compassionate way...telling them that I wonder how it must be to know so clearly you want more fruit loops but have to be stymied in your want because your mother can't read your mind or understand your baby charades.  [insert conversation here about baby sign language...yes, they know "more, all done, eat, drink"...but i was not good with ethan and now with the twins at "getting" the baby sign language vocabulary.]
What I'm noticing is that the more I connect with the twins on what it must be like to so clearly want something and then feel blocked because you don't know the language to ask for it, the more I'm realizing that this frustration is all too real for us adults who do have language.
As an adult, even with our words, how often do we find ourselves unable to ask for what we need and communicate in a way that those around us understand what is important to us in this moment?

Bear Cubs on the move

I spent some time today wondering what momma bears do when their whole household is under the weather.  (Please know, there is no relationship between my image of momma bears and how Sarah Palin abused the image.)  Here's what I wanted to know...the momma bear is sick, doesn't feel well and really wants to lay on the pile of hay inside the cave and read the caveman writing on the wall.  The bear cubs also don't feel well, but unlike momma bears who want to be still, bear cubs want to be sick and still active.  Which ultimately makes them fussy.
There's nothing worse than fussy bear cubs.  Especially when the momma bear cub doesn't feel well.
If you live in a cave, does the momma bear have the luxury of letting her bear cubs do what they want to do...climb up the walls, hang from the ceilings, pull every toy out from every drawer and spread them across the cave floor...and all she does is lay there?
That's really what I wanted to do today...just lay there and let the kids fend for themselves.  But I can't do that because if I let these three fend for themselves, well, Oliver would end up on the kitchen table, Anna would end up being her oldest brother's unwilling wrestle partner and Ethan would dump every toy out of his toy bins and create a pile so high in his room of toys that he would say, "mommy, don't look in my room."  never a good phrase to hear, and something he has recently developed--don't look in my room, in the bathroom, in the sink, etc.  Like tonight, when Ethan got that look on his face and said, "mommy, look in my hair."  god help the child if he has toothpaste in his hair--this was my first thought as he had been in the bathroom alone for 5 minutes).   thank goodness all he had done was try to put one of my ponytail bands in his own hair.
That's just it...in 5 minutes they can end up in a situation that could threaten their life, or, at least some brain cells that could be the difference between Duke and Carolina.  (btw...it's almost that time of the year, Go to hell, Carolina, go to hell!)
It was a difficult day for my dad with the doctors unable to stabilize his blood pressure and then trying a medicinal option that sent his bp through the roof and almost caused some form of cardiac arrest.  but thank goodness the medical team got it under control quickly....my mom has to be completely worn-out, bless her heart.  I just wish I were closer, but of course, if I were, I would have the three bear cubs in-tow who would look for every cord and plug and in an ICU, that's just not the best combination.

Saturday nights

I just finished watching one of those sentimental movies for me...Julia and Julie.  It came out a few years ago about the unknown want-to-be writer who spent a year of her life cooking Julia Child's recipes.  From that discipline to cooking and blogging, her whole life transformed.  I wondered what had happened to her since, so I found out that since that first blog/book/movie, she wrote a second book on Butchering, which didn't really have the same rave reviews.  She spent a period of time learning to butcher, and in the course of that time, she weaves in an affair with another man as well as telling her readers what it is like for her husband--the one we knew in the movie--responds to all of this.
Hmmm....not sure why I'm recounting that story, except to say that I enjoy writing.  I really do.  I enjoy taking my life and exposing the cracks into some kind of spiritual light and hoping that somehow in the writing, there is a deeper healing that takes place in my life.  I will probably never cook a bouef burgninon (how do you even spell it?), but I did make a good Indian-ish dinner tonight thanks to a sauce made by Canadians.
My dad is in cardiac ICU tonight, and I don't want to forget this time of what it has been like to be in another country while my dad faces one of the greatest health challenge of his life.  And my mom is sick while trying to be present with my dad, and I just hope she can hold it all together while she is in another city, in a hospital, with a spouse who has significant recovery ahead.
Oliver has bacterial strep throat and Anna has viral strep throat.  I didn't really know there was such a thing as viral strep throat, but after taking Oliver's prescription to the pharmacy and finding out the drug the doctor prescribed is no longer even made, I'm taking her original diagnosis with a grain of salt.  Except to say that my throat started hurting today and Ethan seems to be struggling tonight with his throat, so I declared our house contagious and decided it was time to stay in pajamas, be a bit stiller, and enjoy some extra snuggles.  I took two naps today.  Two.  I haven't had two naps in one day in a LONG time.
There is a lot that I have not done in a long time, and the "lot" has to do with anything associated with me as a person, a real human being, something beyond the laundry-do-er, the cook, the cleaner, the always-one-step-behind home organizer.  It would be easy to say that there is no time left over for me after the long list of things that have to be done just to keep all 5 of us rowing our boats down the stream.  I now realize how easy it is for women to wake up 15-18 years after giving birth and find themselves looking in the mirror and saying, "Hello.  I'm not sure who you are."
So if I know this now, if I know where this path heads when you can't find the balance, then what is the first step in finding the me that is still here, just buried beneath the unorganized tupperware?
I love me.  I love all that is about me right now.  I love these kids.  I may have been afraid as to how I would be as a mom, like whether I could really do this thing called motherhood, but it turns out that I love it...the joys and the challenges.
I love it so much that when my two pre-verbal 18-month-old twins (pics above) were holding a never-ending, voice-sounding "ohhhhhhhhhhh," all I could do was join in.  So the three of us sang the note all together.  "ohhhhhhhhh."
And for some crazy reason, all the tension melted away.
I love that.

Tis the eve of Canadian Thanksgiving and the pumpkin soup is made...

For a couple of reasons, Troy and the kids arrived at church and had to turn around and go home. When I came home from church, Ethan explained to me that they were at church, but then had to come home. I acknowledged the schedule change and said to him, "ms. Jen sent you a big hug and for you to know that Jesus loves you."
Ethan responded, "I don't love Jesus. I love hockey and basketball."
I never thought I would have a kid who played hockey, but when in Canada, be like the Canadians, eh? Ethan asked if he could learn how to play hockey. Lessons...they start young here.
Tomorrow is Canadian Thanksgiving and because we can't get together with our Canadian Aunties, I'm cooking a Thanksgiving meal. A crock pot turkey breast...yup, I'm making it in the crockpot. Pumpkin soup with pesto recipe from Sunset Magazine (a great food-travel-Pacific northwest, west coast magazine), dressing, Senator Russell Sweet Potatoes, Ransdell traditional "green stuff" (it comes with a recipe, thank goodness). Our neighbour is coming over with cranberries and pumpkin pie. Way too much food for three adults and three kids.
I don't think there will be enough football to balance out the food. That is downside of Canadian thanksgiving...not enough football.
Happy Thanksgiving Canada!

Crock pots

Most of my seminary classmates were first career, which is unusual as most ministers entering ministry these days are second career. The second career students, mainly the women, often passed crock pot recipes to each other. I didn't understand the wonders of the crock pot. I had no idea how the looming dinner hour could weigh so heavily on your mind during the day. And what a relief it is to walk in at 5:30 pm with dinner ready and hot and able to fill the tummies of three little people who have lost emotional stability because they are hungry and growing tired.
So here's to crock pots, cream of mushroom soup, garlic, onion and vegetables.

Day 2 ... Back to the blog

It's 5 minutes until 10 pm and I'm keeping to my writing commitment. Ethan attends preschool 5 mornings a week at Coastal Church, two blocks from our condo. Coastal church is a non-denominational church that began as a start-up. They bought and renovated the first church, Scientist, historical building. I have not seen the sanctuary, but the school level is really warm and comfortable. The churches branding is very similar to Ed young's fellowship in grapevine.
I'm thrilled Ethan is in this preschool. There is a shortage of preschool spots in downtown. I'm glad he is in a faith-based school and today melted my heart. As we walked the two blocks home, Ethan stopped on the sidewalk and sang a new song he learned: "my God is big and mighty and there is nothing my God cannot do."
I want to find the words to describe this experience of seeing my son gain language for his faith. I wonder what he wonders as he tries to understand who this God is. Quite fascinating.
On another note, I found myself today thinking about this being the start of our third year in Canada. I began thinking of the friends, colleagues and confidants in Texas....and I found myself giving thanks for their presence in this world, for the work that they do everyday and for the opportunity I had to have my path cross with theirs. The grief is a little less painful as I am beginning to see glimpses into this next chapter of my life.

Back to the blog

My oldest brother is bicycling across the united states, via a southern route, west coast to east coast. He is keeping a daily blog. I enjoy reading is daily adventures and it gives me great peace of mind to find a new post each night. When he finishes this two month adventure, his blog will allow him to visit this time again.
So that got me thinking about my much neglected blog. Anna and Oliver were maybe 5-months-old when I last posted. I have all the reason in the world why I haven't blogged. There are not enough hours in the day. Babies demand their needs be met...Ethan wants his share of time...and the laundry...and the meal planning...and the dog...and the cleaning...and the clothes-turnover that happens with growing little ones...and, I am now back to work (part-time).
I have no time for blogging. And yet, in 40 years, what i will have, or not have, is the written record of this unique time in life...depending on whether I take the time to remember. And all it takes is just a little each day. An older woman in the grocery store line said to me, "I know what it's like. I had three kids in three years and it was such a blur. I didn't write anything down and now I can't remember much at all. I wish I would have written more."
I have always wanted to write a novel, but perhaps it is not a novel for others, but a novel for me. It will be a novel that I will read a couple of decades from now.
I have time for blogging because I want to read this novel in years to come.
The twins mastered sitting up in March while the four of us were at my parents' house in Texas. Crawling followed shortly after. Oliver first and Anna second. Oliver then moved to standing and balancing. We thought he would be the first to walk. Anna thought differently. Whereas Oliver would pull-upon the furniture and let go and balance, Anna soon pulled up on the furniture, let go and didn't wait to balance. She took her first stumbling, shaky steps. And she did this for sometime and in the month of august, she was a walker. Oliver started walking after her. Today, Anna is very determined to walk, and walk far and away and Oliver is not as ready to walk and stays close by. It will be interesting to see how this unfolds.
Another day, I will comment in their personalities.
Ethan surprised us this evening. He stood on the sofa and pointed to a print hanging on the wall. He said, "Jesus.". Well, it was jesus, a baby Jesus being held by Mary. I asked Troy if he had talked about painting to Ethan and he said no. So I asked Ethan how he knew that it was Jesus. He said, "ms. Jen." (she is the minister with children and families at the church.). I asked him what he had learned about Jesus and he said, "he was a nice man.". The feeling that pours from my heart as I see Ethan learn about his faith is deeper than words...it is a physical feeling of pure joy.
I will sign-off for now...to keep blogging, I need to keep it short because I have no time now to write. A day will come when I have all the time in the world to read. And I want something to read. I want my novel.