So tonight we saw UP in 3D. A controversial choice for my family: pay full price to see an animation? Really? Justin sold us on the fact that it opened for the Cannes Film Festival, that Yahoo critics and users gave it an "A," and that we could have a new experience by wearing those wacky glasses in the movies. (It doesn’t take much for us, apparently.)

Still, we were apprehensive until the show began; then a little bit of magic happened. The film exceeded my expectations. It was sweet, tender, and reflective, and although the theater was filled with little kids (a group I’m usually trying to escape on my date nights while paying a babysitter), I found that watching a movie with little ones sure beats watching with the usual suspects who hang out at suburban movie houses on Friday nights (you may have heard of them. . . teenagers?!). The little kids actually stayed quiet during the quiet parts and laughed during the funny parts rather than the other way around.

But really, the show was one of those that come along once in a while: the kind that help me to be thankful for adventure that my life is. And I have to say, three of the main characters even reminded me of my kids: young Fredricksen is Kellen (dead ringer); Russell is Grant (at times); and Kevin, the little squawker, is Lennox (spot-on).

So, if you're hesitating about spending your free time and your cold cash in an animation, be like Sam I Am: "Try it, you'll like it." We did. ---SM

Earlier this week, after the twins, Ben, and Zoe had their swim lessons, the little siblings had a go. Swim teacher Brittany gave us a few pointers on how to get the babies kicking on their own, and they all did it!

They didn't all love it, but they did it.

Lennox screamed the entire time, Maggie threw up (we later found out she actually was sick, not just heaving because of the water), and Audrey was generally quiet about the whole thing. A few days later, Schroder (Brittany's baby) joined in, and he didn't seem to mind, either.

One thing held true for all of them: they clung like crazy. So, if you're feeling like you need a little baby love, take one in the pool, and he won't let go! ---SM


(Above: Brittany and Schroder, Maryanne and Audrey, Steph and Lennox, Becky and Maggie)

A few days ago, I attempted to cut my kids' hair. I do an alright job with a clip here and there, but I really don't have a handle on the kind of lion manes Kellen and Grant have. So after cutting a few curls, I sent them off and later called Becky to ask her if she'd give it a go. She agreed.

Next thing I knew, the boys had found their own scissors. Grant stood at the doorway and said, "See, Mama? I cutting!" Fortunately, Grant doesn't have an exact hold on his scissors, so he more or less textured his do. Throughout the rest of the evening, I found a total of three or four "goldi"locks on the floor and floating in the bathtub. Not sure whose was whose.

But today was D-Day. Becky tamed the manes, did a fantastic job, and the boys held very still. Hip, hip, hooray! We can now see their ears! ---SM

During Justin's and my travels a few weeks ago, the boys had adventures of their own, including a personalized tour of the fire station and a ride in a fire truck. Staci records below what happened when dreams came true...

I’m certain it is nearly every little boy's dream to witness the inner-workings of a fire station. Thus, it was no surprise we jumped at the opportunity to visit a local fire station (made possible by our close family friends, Yvonne and Ed – THANK YOU!). As evidenced by the boys' calm demeanor and how they gingerly followed Captain Bartley around the station, one would not think the boys were amazed by such a visit.

Okay, so they weren’t amazed, they were astonished!

Neither boy actually said much, but actions were louder than words on this trip. Grant walked around the fire station with a bit of a swagger, held his arms out like a macho-man, pouted his lips, shook his head, and occasionally said, “OK,” or “Yeah!”

Kellen was shyer of the two; as we walked he tilted his head up, looked at everything, but felt no need to touch anything. Instead, he held tightly to his small green car (a gift from little Eddie) and didn’t say a word.

Grant was more hands-on: sounded the truck siren, held the hose while spraying water, touched everything inside and outside of the truck, donned Ed’s captain hat and would not take it off. Lennox was probably the happiest of the bunch, Yvonne held him the entire time, and he didn't make a peep.

The words didn’t flow until we hit the car on the ride home. Neither boy could stop talking, literally reviewing in detail everything seen, touched and heard. The most popular question of the evening, “I had fun, can we go back to the fire station?” ---Auntie Staci

Yesterday we planted. OK, not really. Everyone else in my family planted my garden for me. But I was the "plant manager." Really, there's something to doing the work yourself, but there's also something to watching it. Gardening is a healing art.

After my mom, sister, and I bought the soil and plants (I did buy seeds in April, but I never actually turned them into seedlings, so they're still sitting in their packages in my kitchen), my dad and the boys planted away in our backyard's two raised beds. One highlight: my dad using the plastic toy sand shovel to dig holes while Grant and Kellen used the metal garden trowel.

This marks the second year in a row that my dad planted my garden for me. Last year, I was recovering from surgery after delivering Lennox. And as if I had anything to complain about, want to know how a guy takes his mind off having cancer? Ask my dad, who, in the same afternoon as being hooked up to the chemo drip, drove an hour and a half to my house, then stayed with me for a week, woke up at 4 a.m. every morning to a boy transitioning from crib to bed, chased two toddlers around and spent at least five hours digging up clay and water-starved dirt to plant a garden for his daughter! That's some kind of healing art.)

Meanwhile, Justin and Staci fixed almost every single sprinkler head on the property since our lawn was looking a little weed-patchy and the only water "sprinkling" dribbled down instead of out for the past few weeks. Fortunately, our grass is on the road to recovery.

All in a day's work.---SM

One of my favorite summer fruit pies is strawberry rhubarb. My college roommate introduced me to rhubarb then I didn't eat it again until the twins were born. Then I had a craving for it so desperately that I think I put my mom up to making at least a couple pies a week while she stayed with us (alternating between peach pies, of course!).

But there's nothing quite like making a pie with a couple of distractions, or should I say "distractors." It's easy to lose count of measurements, it takes a little longer to put it all together, and there are some nose-wipings involved, but my mom was a patient champion and the boys enjoyed the art of making the pie while I enjoyed the art of eating it. ---SM

I'm not sure what about it is so magical, so inviting, so tantalizing, but the plastic sand timer seems to have a knack for captivating my three-year-olds. Ever since the dentist gave them each their own teeth-brushing timers, they hardly are able to brush without it.

An addiction, of sorts, that timer takes up a full three minutes of their day (six if we remember to brush in the morning) while the boys sit in front of it, just watching.

Just watching.

They will brush faithfully from the time they flip the hourglass until the sand has finished dropping and then Kellen promptly shouts, "Done!" and the electric toothbrushes cease. It is a choreographed dance every time. I try to take the first and second minute to brush each boy's teeth, respectively, but Kellen, especially, grows impatient with that. Heaven forbid I take the third minute when they can do it themselves, so fixated are they about being in front of the timer when it finishes.


(Above: Although Grant isn't brushing his teeth in this photo, if the timer is out, he will watch it stealthily, like a patient alligator, moving only when the time is done.)

Usually he's content to sit in his high chair, but when it comes to snack time, Lennox wants to be with the big boys. Normally he'll eat his snack standing up, thank you, but today, my mom sat him on the chair and he presented like a king. ---SM