Who is Sam?

It's a mystery. We used to have a little boy named "Sam" but he seems to be missing. Oh, Terry and I mention his name from time to time, but he's never really around. We do, on the other hand, have two Bens.

You see, Ben is Ben. Ben refers to himself as "Ben". Sam refers to him as "Ben". We refer to him as "Ben". He answers to it. It seems to be his name.

Sam is also Ben. Ben refers to Sam as "Ben" (or sometimes "Benny"). Sam refers to himself as "Ben". When Sam looks in the mirror, he points to the person looking out at him and says "Ben." When Sam looks at a picture of himself, he points to it and says "Ben." Sam usually will look up if we call the name "Sam" - but not always (not sure how much of that is him simply ignoring us though). If we run through the family names, he will point out who everyone is flawlessly . . . until we get to the name "Sam." "Okay, that's good. Now where's Sam?" He's stumped. Sam? Who's Sam?

I thought we'd gotten used to it. Terry and I just kept right on correcting them and saying "No, that's "Sam""... until I noticed something strange. I caught myself calling Sam "Ben" all week. I shake my head and correct it and then promptly do it again. I'm being brain-washed by two-year olds. I'm convinced of it. I can picture them now, upstairs in their rooms, giggling together at pulling one over on Mommy... and they're probably up there calling Sam by his given name. Sam.

Silence

I'm not going to lie to you ... I hide out in the bathroom. It's true; I did it today. Don't get me wrong - I Love (with a capital "L"!) my little guys but sometimes you just need a little peace and quiet from the relentlessly annoying sounds of The Wiggles, the cars being tossed across the room and all the toys that light up and scream music everytime a little finger presses a button. It can get very LOUD (also with a capital "L") around here and if, for the sake of my sanity, I have to perch on the edge of the bathtub for 5 or 10 minutes, so be it.

This is not something I do very often though, for two reasons. First, one never knows what trouble a couple of two year olds can get into when they're unsupervised (or even when the ARE supervised, for that matter). Secondly, and of much greater concern, the whole experience tends to end badly which kind of takes the peace out of the proposed bathroom solitude. Usually it ends with two heartbroken little souls wailing at the top of their lungs (thereby nullifying the "escaping the noise" reason for being in there in the first place) and pounding on the door until they eventually just fall in a pathetic heap on the floor in front of the door. I admit that I have become quite familiar with this entire routine during even those very legitimate bathroom excursions so I have found myself trying to limit even those... unless of course it's nap time, then it's good to go.

There's something about knowing your precious child is weeping on the other side of a closed door that instills even greater sympathy than having those same tears in front of your face. It's heartbreaking - and makes me feel like the worst kind of mother for sequestering myself in there in the first place. So, of course, unable to bear it anymore, I gently nudge the door open against their sprawled bodies which causes them to slowly slide across the kitchen floor (as they would still be refusing to get up at this point, in protest). The following hugs, kisses and reassurances tend to make it up to them and they scamper off with nary a bruised heart between them, while I still have that lingering guilt hovering around the edges.

Ah, it's a tricky thing - this solitude and silence that we sometimes seek - while our children are still toddlers (barely even into toddlerhood at that!) People tell me all the time that it too quickly passes and then you're wishing for those very loud, busy days back instead of the quiet empty house you have then. It's hard to foresee such a quiet time - with little ones, even the nights are sometimes loud so there is no guarantee of quiet even in sleep. Would I trade it? Never! Do I wish for a sound-proofed room in which to pass an hour each day? Absolutely! Will I forget the guilt from today and find myself again perched on the edge of the porcelain tomorrow? Likely.

Egg Carton Edibles

What parent isn't looking for a way to get their kids to eat their "food pyramid?" How to get those veggies or fruit or proteins into them? Oddly enough, it never seems to be too hard to get those carbs in!

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Expanding on an idea I saw that used muffin tins (a little too many cups to fill for two-year olds), I cut an egg carton in half so both Sam and Ben would have a tray that was manageable enough for them to carry to the table on their own, and had just enough spaces to hold the amount of food they'd eat. This was a huge hit with them! The egg was pretty messy but it was, naturally, the first thing they both ate. The ideas are endless - fill the cups with cheese, broccoli, asparagus spears, peas, rolled up luncheon meats, cut grilled cheese into strips, French toast cut into sticks . . . the list goes on.

.It is a challenge every day to keep the boys' minds engaged in things that do not involve the Wiggles, Barney or Hi-5, but I am determined to try - even if it just means making mealtimes a little more fun. I want them to linger at their activities and play instead of sailing through them all at high speed. I'm trying to slow down their life in any way I know how. Okay, so a cut-up cardboard egg carton is probably not going to change their world, but I'll tell you, that snack took three times longer to eat than the ones they wolfed down yesterday and it was enjoyed. And isn't that what childhood is all about? Enjoying each moment. Oh wait a minute - that's what motherhood is supposed to be about. Got it.

Animal Fun

Noah's Ark Little People play set, flannel board "animals and their homes" and forest animal magnet boards . . . why, the boys don't even realize they're learning! They are, after all, only two years old; a time when 95% of their time should be spent hard at work playing.

They're thrilled when I pull out the very special sets to play with, all the while practicing the animal names out loud. They run to the cupboard and bang on the drawers and say "toy, toy, toy" so I will pull out what, in actuality, is a learning tool that I've been using with them.

I love scouring the 'net for new activities and am constantly emailing my friends for ideas they've tried with their own kids. My sister, Heather, is regularly emailing me links to blogs that get my creative juices flowing. It is so incredibly worth every effort and each moment of time it takes to plan something new. When I see their eyes light up when I pull out a new craft or even present something to them in a different way, it makes my heart smile.

It is a challenge not to get frustrated by the mess and to reign myself in when one of them runs off with one of the pieces to an activity set and tosses it down the floor vent, but I'm working on it. I keep telling myself that these are new skills they're learning - even just sitting still for any length of time - and breathe in and out a few times when my "orderly tendencies" are tested by the messiness of toddlerhood. I remind myself not to expect too much and to remember that it really is all just play.