First Official Stout Family Vacation (as a party of 5)

At the Wall of Bones

It may sound silly, but I could not have been more excited to take my tiny people to Vernal, Utah to explore one of the dinosaur capitals of the world. It was a trip that would interest even the babies (turning two in a few days) and Claire, as well as Matt and me.

Upon arriving and seeing our first dinosaur statue, August had one of the best one-liners of the trip: "I don't like da dragons." She eventually warmed up but would every now and again remind us her of her distaste of these creatures. There is a big pink dinosaur statue that welcomes you to Vernal, and I really really wanted to take my kids' picture in front of it. Needless to say, August has not stopped talking about "Pink Dino" and can't really decide if she's horrified or fascinated by it.

The Infamous Pink Dino - impossible to get a calm picture because they were freaked.

Sharing a hotel room with five people is really relaxing - NOT. The twins slept in pack and plays provided by the hotel instead of regular cribs... and they quickly learned the olympic art of hurling their tiny mooshy, unbreakable bodies in and out of their beds and jumping off of Claire's beloved "couch bed."  This left us with a bedtime that required turning off all the lights/tv in the room, not making a sound, and Matt and I just sitting in the dark quietly sipping our wine (thank heavens we Brought Our O.B.) waiting for the circus to come to a conclusion. 

Other than that, all of the kids were extremely well-behaved, save a small tantrum from our tiniest family member. Sam has become increasingly obsessed with shoes, and shirts, and basically anything he wears. He was just running around our room in a diaper, hysterically screaming for tennis shoes. So, we obliged and put them on, sans socks, and now he was a man in a diaper ready to run. This did not quell the temper. He wanted a shiht (shirt) and chose the one I was going to wear, a fitted, bright yellow scoopneck. He instantly stopped crying and was satisfied at his outfit, however as you can tell by the picture, his insult lasted that it took five minutes for us to prepare his ensemble. Oh Sammy D.. what will we do with you... I adore this child.

One of my all-time favorite pictures of Sam

We obviously saw lots of dinosaur bones, fossils, skeletons, replicas, statues, etc., but we also got to see a ton of  petroglyphs, which I loved. The outdoors there are beautiful. We spent one afternoon doing art outside and letting the twins run around at Red Fleet State Park/Reservoir.

Claire became a Junior Ranger at Dinosaur National Monument. She was adorable getting sworn in and receiving her badge. She never misses a chance to do that kind of thing. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Getting sworn-in.

On the tram to and from the quarry.

In between museum and historical site visits, there was plenty of goofing off at the hotel, in restaurants, and in the car. Oddly enough, those were some of the most fun times for the kids and the most memorable times for us as parents.

Never miss a chance to ride a luggage cart.

Perhaps the world's funniest "funny face." It's like he can fold his eyes in and collapse his face - on command.

Discontent at a restaurant. Shocking.

Distinguished gentleman, with a wiki stix moustache.

Our assistant twin wrangler, and fashion plate. What would we do without this precious girl.

Claire finishes Kindergarten...

Claire was naturally THRILLED when it was Western Day at school.

For her final kindergarten project, the kids did a big report on their favorite animal. Claire chose a course (shocking). Her report was adorable... and the thing is, she really knows all of this stuff. She is currently in horse camp, thanks to an awesome birthday present from Grandma Tam last January, and she mucks stalls without complaining and is learning every aspect of horse care, maintenance, safety and riding. The instructors say she has so much confidence, never complains and always volunteers for things. I am so happy she has found something she loves so much, and that we have another horse woman in the family to recognize this and facilitate its development: Grandma Tam.

Her report - she did the ENTIRE thing herself.

Last day of school with her darling little friend Karli.

Ms. Edgell with Claire - her Kindergarten teacher.

Later, Kindergarten! Riding off into the sunset of First Grade.

The fun continues, springtime and Easter in St. George

To say the twins get more adorable every day would be a great understatement. What is particularly precious now, is the way they interact with each other, not necessarily how they interact with other people. I am watching their tiny, intimate relationship emerge. When Sam cries, August gently strokes his cheek with her hand, and says "oh, buddy."  If you ask one twin to take a toy of a sippy cup to the other one, they almost always do it. They know exactly what things are theirs and are increasingly particular about their own possessions. For example, I casually threw bibs on them the other day to feed them lunch, and they both immediately ripped them off and switched with each other. Little did I know they cared who had the rocket ship bib and who had the strawberry bib.

Sam has become a little parrot, adopting casual adult phrases, which are especially funny coming out of his mouth because he remains the shortest man alive. He says "yeah, bud" and "oh man" and "oh yeah!" August is still the more verbal twin but they're both talking more and more every day. August recently started calling green beens "be greens." Personally, I think that's a fitting name and I now call them that too.

The shortest man alive, trying to scale a dining chair.

As the twins become more sensitive and opinionated, Claire becomes equally more independent. We went to St. George over Easter break, and she packed all by herself, following a specific list I gave her. It seems like a small thing, but it is a HUGE thing as a mom, to have one of your children be able to pack for themselves. She has become such an angel, really respects the rules of the house, and is a little mother to these twins. It is a huge benefit to me because I am still in recovery from my back injury, so she changes their morning diaper, helps get them dressed, and even gets them in high chairs and feels them full meals. It's incredible. They just worship her and ask for her when she is not there. I have no doubt I am raising three little best friends - it is my goal, at least. 

During our Easter trip in St. George with our dear friends Charlie, Mel, Penny & Jack Fisher (from California), Claire learned a lot of "big girl" skills. She worked on riding her bike without raining wheels and practiced her swimming.  When I read the girls a bedtime story one night, it was so fun to take turns among the three of us, reading the book. I have known Penny since  she was born (she and Claire are just two weeks apart), and to be sitting in a bed snuggled up with them, listening to them  read to me, was so poignant for me. We also went on a wonderful hike and our tradition is to call out the colors of flowering cacti as we see them. We went to an art fair and took the kids on the carousel (multiple times.) August was stoic like Claire was when she was little. Didn't make much noise, minimal facial expression, hard to tell if she liked it. Sammy boy, on the other hand, LOVED the Merry Go Round and went totally insane when we took him off to wait in line again for the next ride. It was absolutely adorable. 

My favorite picture of the trip. I had to go into stealth mode so they didn't know I was watching, but they took each other's hands through much of the hike. A lifelong friendship in the making.. I love these girls.

Another highlight of the trip was the big Easter egg hunt. Sam and August were finally old enough to grasp the concept of putting eggs in their basket, although Sam felt that the rocks and grasses he collected were of equal importance to shiny pastel chocolates. August came up to me the day after Easter and said "Mom, I have an UGG." She promptly handed me a plastic egg, and cheerfully said "Okay, goodbye, mommy!" Easter uggs -- how cute is that. 

August gathering "uggs"

A happy Claire with her giant Easter basket

Twins are old enough to enjoy an Easter "ugg" hunt!

Sam counting his eggs and rocks.

Claire the Super Star

Claire loves music, singing, dancing and performing. We have tried to cultivate this in her because she seems to have talent, even at a young age, and obviously, we are a musical family. So I signed her up for a little 10 week singing  and dancing camp and they performed a production at the end of the course. Claire had a solo from "Peter Pan" and she absolutely nailed it.....

Claire with my cousin Tammy, and her daughters Aubry and Taylor - they are dancers too.

The kids range in age from 5-12 and she was (almost) the youngest, and most definitely the shortest, which made it even cuter. She was dressed as a "lost girl" from Peter Pan, but with a modern vibe. She has quite a fan club, and we had a whole section of the auditorium  cheering for her. All of her wonderful grandparents came, as well as my cousins Wendy and Erik and Tammy and her daughter. Wendy and Tammy babysat  me when I was a little girl, and now they play a wonderful role in my young family. It has come full circle. They are so good to my children, and I'm so grateful that after I moved home I was able to reconnect with them. It's a beautiful thing.  When you're a parent all you want is for your child to be loved, so to see all of these people cheering for her made me happier than I can tell you.

Performing with the pirates!

The performance began and went as you might expect with a motley crew of elementary school kids... they did their best... dance moves a little bit "interpretative" and singing with every performer's individual..... "style." Then, it came time for Claire, and I am not exaggerating just because I am her mom, but she literally nailed it. She was EXACTLY on tempo - didn't come in late, knew just when to begin her solo and did it with volume and excellent pitch. Her solo was a little difficult because it involved a lot of melodic intervals and jumping around to hit notes without any chromatic preparation. I am so so proud of her - not just because she did it well, but because she did it with confidence.

See the video here - unfortunately the lighting crew was also "learning" so it is nearly pitch black, but that sweet little voice in the dark belongs to my baby girl. Enjoy. She is the first person singing - not the second.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfltsnPvAqc&feature=youtu.be

Fragile Suspension.

Tonight, one of my dearest, lifelong friends came over for dinner... and more importantly, a jam session. My Sweet Tim Coray has known me for probably 25 years, and was one of the truest friends of my precious brother. That being said, we obviously share a very layered, complex and sacred history. But our present brings me indescribable joy.

My entire life, when I have performed with or accompanied someone (or an ensemble of people,) there is a feeling that few people in the world get to experience. You are suspended. You are without time. You are without location. You are without history (even if it is written in blood,) and you are without future. You are breathing the same breaths, in unison, moving together in tempo, playing any variety of music. 

It might be something fun and silly for a holiday sing-along late into the night...

... it might be a statement song that was performed at a ceremony such as a wedding or academic function...

...or a funeral of someone you lost and loved in common.

During this time, you are suspended. You are timeless, ageless, weightless, faceless. You hear each other's mistakes, you hear each other's insightful additions, descants, harmonies and inversions. In a strange sense, they are equally welcomed, which is a surprise to me as a perfectionist. You are accepting of all of them - the ones that work and the ones that don't... because this is as close to church as I get. If you choose to believe in a God that gives us talents, or if you don't and you believe that people work really hard to develop their abilities,  this is what my own personal truth is. I am never more genuine, without pretense, sans schedule, anti-agenda than I am when I am performing with anyone. ANYONE I LOVE.

The tandem performance was indoctrinated in me at a very young age. I was my dad's (a professional and phenomenal singer) accompanist as early as I can remember. Regardless of the state of our relationship, or any current events in my family or childhood, we were suspended together in this timeless, yet finite, bliss of performance.  This developed a craving in me... few things in the world edify me more than playing meaningful music with another musician, or performing it solo for an occasion that will mark someone's life forever (a 90th birthday party, a funeral of someone lost too young, a wedding between a young, electrified couple, just embarking on the road of labels, occasions, anniversaries, demarcations.)

Tonight, during my "nearly out of body" performance time with dear Tim, I also got to witness my daughter's exposure to our experience. Tim generously gave her the violin,  and for at least 30-45 minutes, she played, in her own way. He taught her how to hold the bow, and the full size instrument which was far too large for her, but who cared... she was making music, by herself, on her own terms.  She was playing musical phrases that equated to English phrases with syllables as the common denominator. The things she thought of were darling, precious, hilarious, and absolutely bizarre.

It dawned on me as I watched her "play," that this is the purpose. Experience it for yourself to the point of edification, and pass it down to a willing participant. She sang for us, for the first time with a "live band" (really just piano and violin,) but we happily accept the term "Power Trio" instead.  She played every family member's name. She played phrases that were names of food, parts of songs, things we say to her over and over, and things she could very simply identify within view (i.e. wine, glasses, beard, bald, Sheldon Died, Mac and Cheese in a Pot, etc.) 

It was shocking how straight her primitive bowing was. I still can't do that (obviously my time and energies were put into another instrument, even though violin is my second love.)  During this time, it hit me in the face as hard as a baseball that the stage was no longer my stage. My stage was a space without definitive shape that invited others of various skill levels. We recorded much of what she said while she was playing and learning bow strokes, but I truly hope I can hold onto just a clear glass shard of what she vocalized to us that inspired her tonight.

All the babies love Uncle Tim.

After Tim and I played a duet of "Lullaby" by Billy Joel, Tim asked Claire to describe what she heard in one word. It was very hard for her - she usually cries when she hears that song and doesn't like it when she has to sing or hear it. But after several thoughtful moments, she said "gentle." My word for it was "fragile." I think that makes so much sense of how a mother would consider a lullaby for their child, and how a child would receive one from their parent. 

Bottom line: Music is my church. Making music is my happy. Producing collaborative music is my sacred place. 

Sammy liked it.

A selfish post...and perhaps my most honest one yet.

Every morning I hear my precious little twins crying from their bed. It is a sound that signals many things: the start of the day, the reminder that I lucky enough to have three children, and the start of a day where I will do my best to move through incredible pain and stiffness as a result of my car accident, and be a mom in as many ways as I can.

This picture was taken on a day when I was able to push the double stroller and walk up to the park at Claire's school.

The worst part of it for me, is that there is a tinge of guilt when I hear that cry, and that just devastates me. It signals that I will shortly be required to be in pain, just to get their adorable warm sleepy bodies out of their cribs. Something that my husband and I used to fight to do because it was so precious. What a complicated feeling, bordering on grief, to have.

To say I look forward to the day when I can hop out of bed and grab my babies as soon as they need me, lift them up, carry them downstairs, change their diapers while they fight me, and do it all pain free, is a huge understatement. Then lift them into their highchairs myself, feed them, clean them and change them again then get them dressed. 

This morning Claire asked me if I would play with her while I was flat on my back on the floor, trying to stretch and lie on heat so I had some fighting chance of being mobile enough today to do the bare minimum for my children. I took a short bath to try and loosen my muscles – it was a bit of a hail mary after my stretches, heat pad, and medication and I was still in pain. After my bath I fell to my bed in tears and cried into my towel. I sobbed. 

I sobbed because I am angry that this happened to me.

I sobbed because I'm angry this is happening to me. 

I sobbed because I am stressed about what this is taking away from my husband’s life as he is working from home and my job is to run our house. 

I am devastated that I cannot meet all of my children’s needs the way I used to… and if I can do it, it’s hard to do it with a happy face on, because of the pain.   

This weekend we had fun – for the first time in ages. We went out to dinner with friends and laughed for three hours… at the end of the night my back and tailbone hurt so bad it was all I could do to crawl into bed, because I had sat still for so long. I don’t know if the mental health benefits of going out with friends outweigh the physical pain that I’ll be in during the coming days or not… I’m torn. 

I’m tired of crying frequently. I’m tired of the stress level my injury has added to our home. I’m tired of Claire having to worry about what I’m able to do for her and with her. A child should not have to think about that... she has nightmares about my body, and parts of it missing that keep me from engaging in family activities. It is affecting everyone around me. I have to ask for more help from so many people and they have been wonderful, but at the end of the day there is only so much you can ask from someone else… my family has to be able to rely on me. 

As always, I do not believe everything happens for a reason, but I always believe that there is something to be gained from traumatic experience if you look for it. I'm still trying to answer that question and I'm looking for what knowledge I'm gaining from this... all I have come up with so far is this:

I'm truly learning to "listen to my body" and attempt to slow things down and be patient and wait for help to get things done.

I'm learning about imperfection... in a big way. 

I'm learning about what is just good enough... and that is how I live. Paper plates for meals, easy dinners, and piles of clean laundry that sit in a heap for days, getting further wrinkled, but guess what... I don't get to care.  I can't get a load of clean laundry out of the dryer, because bending over and lifting is one of the most painful things for me. Matt is still working full time and he does everything in his power to help me, but I simply have to learn to wait for things to get done, not do them or be comfortable relying on others for help (a lesson my twin pregnancy and birth prepared me for… little did I know that was the just the tip of the iceberg.)

Sweet Claire guiding Sammy out of my room.

Last, but not least, my sweet little Claire is learning a lesson in compassion, and how to take care of others, right at home. I hope it ends soon, but the exposure to this concept is not a bad thing, and it is beyond heartwarming to see her take care of the twins and be my little momma.

Claire does her best to bathe the kids for me.

Please don't...

To the three tiny child inhabitants of my household: I have a few requests. As I observe you on a daily basis, here are my deepest wishes:

Claire, please never stop saying "breakfdist" when you are hungry every morning. Please don't stop loving getting all dirty and climbing hills and mountains. Please never stop being a daddy's girl, and demanding long on-the-mouth kisses at bedtime, followed by rib crushing hugs.

August, please don't learn how to say "balloon." I think "da boo-nah" will suffice forever.

Gently feeding August's baby a bottle. My brother loved all my barbies and babies... takes after Uncle, so tenderhearted.

My little man and me when he was just five months old.

Sam, please don't find out it's not macho to play with baby dolls. Keep feeding them with bottles and using August's pink vacuum as much as your little heart pleases.

Claire, don't you dare ever stop asking questions that I can't answer... like "what does it feel like to be inside of you? I only know what it feels like to be inside of me. What is it like to be another person? Can I ever know?"

My spunky baby girl, 17 months old.

Daddy with Miss August at five months. He is the most tender dad you have EVER seen in your life. He's literally perfect.

August, please don't ever stop being the life of the party, and flashing your toothy little underbite grin at us, just because you want to.


Sam, never stop wishing your little sister goodnight through the rails of your crib. Never stop saying "butt-bum" when visitors are leaving our house and you offer your goodbyes.

Claire, never stop caring for your little brother and sister with such respect and tenderness. Watching you dress and change two wiggly toddlers (voluntarily) is one of the sweetest things I see in my days at home. Especially since the twins hold completely still for you, they have this innate respect for you as their older, much worshiped sister.

Sam, never stop yelling for Claire whenever she is out of sight, when you wake up in the morning, when she is in another room, when she is sitting 10 feet away from you at her parent teacher conferences. Never stop adoring her.

Dressed as Mr. Tumnus, the faun, from "The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe."

Claire, never stop transforming yourself into a million different animals, and make believe creatures with nothing more than a roll of scotch tape and some paper and crayons.

Twinnies both finally home, healthy, safe and sound home: about 3 weeks old.

Babies, thank you for giving me the surprise of my life. Twins, thanks for coming at the same time, no matter the cost to me physically, it was worth it like I can never explain. Claire thank you for welcoming them with a quiet reverence and respect.

The day August came home from 12 extra days in the hospital, and our first family picture of five. Claire was delighted to hold both - she just giggled and giggled. This was a gorgeous moment to witness.

Our family is the happiest thing in my life. Never stop being that for me...

Pretty please with a cherry on top,
Mom