Happy Belated Birthday, Part 1

Lauren and Maddie celebrated their fifth birthday in style with a party at Extreme Bounce Zone and a visit from their grandparents. Two months ago. Clearly certain former newspaper employees have forgotten a few things about news value and deadlines.

The celebrations began a little early with a visit from Auntie Julie and Uncle Colin the weekend beforehand. The brand new backpacks spawned a brand new hobby.


Then Lauren decided that she was the greatest gift of all:


And when one twin creates a bandwagon, the other is quick to jump on:


(Uncle Colin is smiling, but inside he may be wondering whether it is actually necessary to visit one's in-laws):

Festivities on the day included the Extreme Bounce party, attended by friends from our neighborhood and their preschool.


(Tire yourselves out. Please.):

They still had enough energy and enthusiasm afterward to tackle their presents. No surprise there.


Modeling M&M shirts given by Auntie Heather and Uncle Kevin while pretending to surf on kickboards received from a party guest:


Scooters from Grammie and Grump were a big favorite:

Summer Catch-Up

At the beginning of every summer, I wonder how we are going to fill the time. Especially with three children who are known to put pants on their heads and audition for Iron Chef when they have free moments. June, July, and August begin to look like a great, yawning void our beloved offspring can easily fill with misadventure.

That hasn't been a problem this year. We've been surprisingly busy, and now we're approaching the last full week of the summer and I've barely had time to look at the pictures we've taken, much less organize or post them anywhere.

So here are a few highlight pictures:

Last day of school (yes, we're that far behind).


Lauren found an old favor from a party Leah attended at Libby Lu a while back and gave herself a makeover.


Lauren and Maddie and Aislinn raced each other in the cul-de-sac in front of Aislinn's house. (I hope some of their neighbors aren't too particular about their lawns.)


Aislinn looks like she's white-knuckling it a little bit. Maybe she regrets letting Maddie take the wheel.


Leah had five baby teeth extracted at the end of July to make room for some permanent ones. It seems she has a small mouth. They don't say that too often about the women in our family. Here she is the evening after, doing her impression of Cletus from The Simpsons.


And here she is modeling her Little Miss Trouble shirt, sent by Grump, who clearly knows his granddaughter well.

Summer exposure to (and by) the arts

Lauren and Maddie have a new hobby: photography. Thanks to digital cameras, what kid would not be drawn to taking pictures? They get instant gratification from the LCD display on the back of our camera. We were given a one-time-use camera not long ago and the girls wondered aloud where the screen was.

In Hamilton fashion, Lauren and Maddie drew their inspiration from an unusual source: the reflective strip on their new backpacks. The monogrammed backpacks were a birthday gift from Auntie Julie and Uncle Colin, intended to generate excitement for kindergarten. Mission accomplished -- generally if a gift comes in their favorite colors and personalized, it is a guaranteed home run.


Uncle Colin -- who has probably stolen the Inspector Gadget nickname from Mike -- was especially excited about the reflective strip on the back of each backpack. Once they saw their picture, Lauren and Maddie were excited about it too, because of the glow they added to the picture. Thus, a hobby was born.

Their early work was a study in reflective strips (these are but two of a series):


Then they decided to expand their horizons to include:

• Indulgent grandparents

• Household pets

• A before and after study on the effects of small children on their parents

• Old boxer shorts

• And, thanks to their pioneering shoot-without-looking technique, a lot of shots of elbows, knees, stomachs, chests, and posteriors that (thanks again to the digital era) are already consigned to the recycle bin and are therefore unavailable for exhibit.
  

Yup, she's a Hamilton

We've started instituting rewards for doing chores, so Maddie earned "Special Time with Daddy." Last night, we went to the pool. On the way back, Maddie wanted to put on her cotton top over her suit but only Lauren's was in the pool bag.

I put it on Maddie and said, "Here, you can pretend to be Lauren. Hi, Lauren!"

First thing Pretend Lauren said: "I'm goofier than Maddie."

At least there are no eggs involved in this one

The Peanuts gang continues to inspire Leah. Thanks to A Boy Named Charlie Brown (in which our hero becomes the school spelling champion before misspelling beagle in the national finals), she can now spell fussbudget and stomach-ache. She also likes to borrow a line or two from America's favorite hard-luck kid.

The other morning I dispensed her usual round of medication and supplement capsules, praising her for quick cooperation and successful swallowing with a high five and a "Good job, Leah."

To which Leah replied (with Peanuts-esque inflection), "I'm a failure."

Hog Heaven

Apparently Leah was worried Miss Piggy was not getting enough to eat:


I assume she got tired of asking nicely. Her usual feeding attempt is to poke Miss Piggy with pieces of hay and exhort her to "Eat it, please!!"

She'll be ready for Kitchen Stadium soon

In theory, it should bode well that an autistic child is interested in the kitchen. All kinds of functional skills are learned there. However, in our daughter's mind, the kitchen is less about life skills than it is a venue for experimentation.

For some time we have had to hide our eggs (thank God for the basement refrigerator) because in a bizarre piece of quasi-performance art, Leah loves to re-enact a favorite scene from It’s the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown. For those who struggle to recall the plot points -- or those for whom these specials were not appointment television during childhood (positively un-American) -- a running gag is Marcie and Peppermint Patty's futile efforts to color eggs. When I walk in the kitchen, in the second or two it takes me to wonder how a saucepan ended up on the island, I hear Leah's voice telling me, “All the eggs are in, sir.” I look in the pan, count eight or nine yolks bobbing in water, and have to agree that yes, they certainly are. Eggshells litter the sink, and the carton, inexplicably, is in the oven.

Lately Leah has decided to expand her repertoire to sandwiches. Not a bad thing, one might think. Children take sandwiches to school every day. If one can slap some things between a couple of slices of bread and put them on a plate, one has prepared a meal, right?

Leah has other ideas.

One of them is to dispense with the plate altogether. I find her creations on the counter or on the kitchen table, like an edible centerpiece. Mind you, it is actually a relief that she chooses to display them rather than eat them, since her celiac disease precludes her eating ordinary sandwich bread. Early on, I tried to interest her in an actual edible sandwich with bread that will not wreak havoc on her digestive tract, but she quickly taught me that eating is not the main purpose here. Our Leah is driven to create. She seems to start in the direction of peanut butter and jelly, but during sandwich assembly, after she slaps some peanut butter on one of the bread slices, she invariably decides that jelly is just too pedestrian, and substitutes something a little more unique. In recent weeks her special ingredient choices have included:

• Parsley
• Maple syrup
• Dish soap (added after the maple syrup got messy -- intention might have been to clean rather than to make a culinary statement)
  
• Spring onion stalks
• Lettuce
  

If you've watched the original Iron Chef, it may occur to you, as it has to me, that some of these concoctions are well suited for Kitchen Stadium. The Japanese palate, as presented by the chefs and challengers, is very different from that of your typical American couch potato. It's possible that the fortune teller judge or one of the rotating stable of vapid actresses on the panel might say something like, "The texture of the peanut butter beautifully compliments the remaining crunch in the three-week-old iceberg lettuce." Then again, the fortune teller might be motivated to repeat one of my favorite Iron Chef lines of all time: "This tastes like failed soybean curd!" If they ever resurrect the original, look for Leah to take her place alongside Iron Chefs Chinese, Japanese, French, and Italian in the role of Iron Chef Quirky.

A request we can't refuse

Blame it on Earth Day, or the community helpers unit at preschool, or the bible camp they've been doing with a rainforest theme. Whatever the origin, Lauren and Maddie have become particularly eco-conscious lately. They scoop up litter. They acquired a basic grasp of the life cycle of a butterfly. (Although, thanks to Eric Carle's Very Hungry Caterpillar, they seem to think salami is a staple in the caterpillar's diet.) Lauren got very excited about planting some marigolds in the front flower bed this year. Amidst all of this, someone hammered home the importance of water.

Maddie got thirsty this morning and said, "Mommy, can I have some water so I don't die?"

Uh, yeah.

Run, Jump, Throw

One of Leah's year-end activities is a mini-Special Olympics event hosted by a nearby elementary school. Her school is one of seven that participated this year. It's our second year at the event, and so far we've had weather extremes to contend with. Last year's event was unusually hot, which means Leah was wilting well before the awards ceremony. This year the weather was unseasonably cool, forcing Mike to run home for jackets and miss some of the events.

But not before we formed a mini-cheering section.


Leah threw a softball a couple of feet ...


After a few anxiety-provoking moments, she did throw the turbo javelin, instead of stabbing herself with it.


This is not a minor issue. One parent got hit in the mouth with an errant 'turbo jav' (as those familiar with such things call it) and had to leave the event to get stitches. Maybe guns aren't the weapons we should be controlling ...

Despite the detailed instructions she received (below), Leah did not seem to approach the 'run' part with much urgency. In addition to the casual pace she set, she also decided to experiment with lane-changing.


Watching her jump was oddly gratifying, perhaps because it reminded me that it took a lot of practice and a number of occupational therapy sessions to teach her to lift both feet off the ground at once. Which she did.


In the end, Leah happily went up to receive her medal during the closing ceremonies ...


... and was quite happy to show off her 'shiny gold medal' for the camera.

The Frogs turn into princesses

Lauren and Maddie's ascendancy to kindergarten turned out to be quite a production, complete with mini-mortarboards and a recording of Pomp and Circumstance. Perhaps more pomp than I would have chosen for a group of 4 and 5-year-olds, but I had to admit, they all looked pretty cute in the graduation regalia.

Of course, it's never too early to learn that whoever designed mortarboards was probably not a college graduate himself.

I suppose in this day and age, with soccer parents around every corner, it doesn't hurt to give our kids any competitive edge we can find. So I am delighted to point out that the next time graduation rolls around (I suppose it could be as early as next year), Lauren and Maddie could be well above average (or -- dare I say it -- gifted) at winning the battle with ill-fitting haberdashery.

Their classmate (also a Lauren, by the way) looks horrified at the travails Lauren and Maddie have had to endure in the name of ceremony. Fear not, young Lauren M. -- all this adversity is character-building.

And then came the best part -- cake, and the opportunity to make a lot of noise in the multipurpose room. In other words, they were four again.

We were sad to say goodbye to Mrs. Endlich, Mrs. Ryan, and Miss Maria -- they were a phenomenal team.

New room

The favorite colors: Red (Maddie) and green (Lauren).

The problem: How to decorate their room -- a new look to go with much-desired new bunk beds -- without turning it into a 365-day salute to Christmas.

The solution: A springy green (I think the name had 'celery' in it somewhere) and red accents that eventually spilled over their chair-rail border in an act of frenzied stenciling. A handful of brushes and about a thousand touch-ups later, the girls seem happy and the would-be muralist is at least pleased that refilling the room with furniture distracts from some of the imperfections.

The twins have been trading nights on the top bunk have been scrupulous about remembering whose turn it is.

Today, he'd be Swift-Cabined

Alison, Julie, Colin and I went to the Nationals' new park last Saturday for an evening of healthy food and quiet contemplation. On our way in, we met one of the racing presidents.

Worth every penny

For once, we did not mind paying extortionate amusement park prices for a picture. This one is from our trip to Hershey Park a few weeks back. (Big thanks to our friends the Rulos and the defense contractor Northrup Grumman for the preseason visit.) Mike and Leah got some quality dad-daughter time on the roller coasters. The picture is from the Wild Mouse ride, which looks relatively benign from the ground, but Mike assures me I would hate it. I might have to revise my stance on roller coasters long enough to hear Leah's happy cackles as she gets a few minutes of awesome sensory input. The original picture has pride of place on Mike's desk at work.

Happy Mother's Day!

Lauren and Maddie learned this song for their preschool's Mother's Day brunch. And, yes, their hair was chopped off this week.

And now, the version for the hearing- (and harmony-) impaired ...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas?

Or so Maddie hoped the other day. Mike and Lauren and Maddie were discussing Lights on the Bay, Annapolis' annual Christmas-light extravaganza (no idea how the subject arose in May, but we have never been seasonally appropriate around here). Maddie wanted to jump in the car and drive to Sandy Point State Park to see the lights. Mike explained that since we still have more than six months to go until Christmas, the light show is not taking place at the moment, and though the holiday spirit never completely leaves the Hamilton house (Rudolph still periodically flies around our living room), we will have to wait until late November to go back. No point in driving over there now, as there's nothing to see.

Anyone expecting Maddie to be disappointed should think again. She was quick to point out the upside: "We could be first in line!"

I hope George Lucas is done making Star Wars movies ...

Now we are six

When we decided to expand the family, we decided any additions needed to be contained in small quarters -- a wire cage, for example. If only the state of Maryland didn't take such a dim view of this approach to child rearing, our household might be quiet, our closets organized, and our holiday letters a lot less warped ...

Since cats are not appreciated in our house, both for their allergy-inducing traits and for their personalities, and most dogs are equally hard on certain people's respiratory systems, we opted for a guinea pig for our first foray into family pet ownership. In January, before the plague struck, we brought a female guinea pig home from PetSmart. The 'Name That Pig' sweepstakes began on the ride home. First order of business was pointing out to Lauren and Maddie that Rudolph, while a lovely name, might not be gender-appropriate for a female. Then began the desperate search for alternatives as Lauren and Maddie began to contemplate the name of Rudolph's girlfriend. There will be no new Hamiltons named Clarice, thank you. I became rather partial to Vixen, but was outvoted in the end. The girls preferred Mike's suggestion -- Miss Piggy -- probably bolstered by their recent exposure to a DVD collection of episodes from The Muppet Show. But she will remain a saucy little vixen in my mind.


One of her early favorite spots was the back of my neck. I suspect my hair looked like something she could nest in. She has learned how to let us know, on no uncertain terms, that she needs more hay, which is her favorite snack. So far she has resisted our attempts to add some of the fruits and veggies other people tell us guinea pigs often love. Greens and carrots have been met with indifference, and when we offered orange slices, she boycotted that area of her cage. Another picky eater -- she fits right in.

The happiest moment of her brief life? Probably when she figured out she could jump from the chair she and Lauren were sitting in straight into her hay bag.

Winter blues ... and pinks, and some other gross colors

We've spent a certain portion of the winter warding off various versions of the plague -- including a raging case of pinkeye (a gift to me from our lovely Leah) that reminded Mike of South Park's first-season Halloween episode. We managed to stretch jokes about brain-eating and cries of "piiiiinnk eyyyye" over the three days I looked like one of Parker & Stone's living dead ...

Apparently this was a particularly bad year for germs, at least in Maryland. Our tally, in the space of a month, was seven colds, four ear infections, three stomach viruses, one case of bronchitis, and the aforementioned two cases of pinkeye. We finished banishing the germs just in time to grapple with the early arrival of spring allergies. I am all in favor of mild winters (except when I think about the money we forked out for Lands' End snow boots, and then I feel a little bitter), but would also like to possess a fast-forward button to get us through the first few allergy-infested days until the Claritin kicks in. Allergy symptoms tend to kill Leah's desire to cooperate at school and make for some extra emoting on the part of our resident drama queen (Maddie).

However, we have emerged, relatively unscathed, quirks intact, and are ready to resume posting.

Be careful what you wish for, again

Language skills have always been a big component of Leah's IEPs. This year's goals include some remedial conversation skills. It can be an arduous job to convince Leah to talk when she doesn't have to; asking questions is a fairly recent phenomenon. ("What's that?" was cause for celebration.) The ability to put together two or three exchanges with another person might tactfully be described as an emerging skill.

In Hamilton fashion, this skill is choosing to emerge in unusual ways. A little while back, Leah and one of her therapists came upstairs after a session. I chatted with Monica for a few minutes while Leah pulled out a stuffed Maisy she has had since she was a baby. Maisy comes and goes, forgotten for chunks of time before finding favor again, usually right about when Leah's sixth sense tells her we are thinking about including Maisy in our next trip to the Salvation Army. Monica, whose home is not yet overrun with small children and enormous quantities of toys, was unfamiliar with Maisy. (If you've ever seen the cartoon version on Noggin, you might agree with the adage that ignorance is bliss.) So she asked Leah, "Who's that?" Leah replied, "That's Maisy." Monica commented that she had never heard of Maisy, and I was beginning to tell her about the children's books and aforementioned Noggin show, when Leah decided to continue the conversation. She told Monica, "Maisy's picking her nose."

When we were done laughing, I noticed that Leah had, indeed, positioned Maisy's hand on the black tip of her nose. Touche.

Rookie no more

Kevin takes this uncle thing to heart. He gave Maddie some jamming pointers when she got her new guitar for Christmas:


... He showed flair as a puppeteer later on:


... And, in the ultimate act of family love, did not appear to mind when two four-year-olds planted themselves on his lap while he was trying to have a few quality moments of communion with his Nintendo DS:


However, for pure goofiness, he could still pick up a few pointers from Auntie Heather:


Who constructed this stunning self-portrait/piece of performance art/tribute to bows with the scraps from Christmas morning. Martha Stewart (who, with a bevy of assistants, could have turned these into an elegant, festive centerpiece) would be quietly horrified.

The real marital aid ...

Heather thought this shirt could save Colin a lot of breath. Looks like Julie agreed with the wardrobe choice ...

... though Julie was the first to use it when she gave Colin two copies of the same book!