Black Friday was a day of being buried in clothes. Not because we went shopping, but because I finally decided to fold the laundry.

For weeks, I’d been stuffing clean clothes into Leena’s crib, because I felt too busy to deal with them. I had (self-imposed) writing deadlines to meet, and I needed to prepare for the parenting conference in Toronto (one of my friends said that’s ironic. That’s not ironic— because it was a conference about parenting, not housekeeping).

Then every time I’d try to fold clothes, Sonya would (1) need something (2) repeatedly say Mommy Mommy Mommy until I responded or risked going insane. Meanwhile Leena would  (1) start rolling in the clothes if she was on the bed (2) crawl next to my foot and try using my knee as a handhold to stand up. Because Sonya takes her naps on her toddler bed in the bedroom, I felt unable to work during nap time. Besides, I use nap times to write or read a book.

Basically, it was a disaster. And I felt overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. As glibly as I’m writing about it, I realized I had a problem. A serious problem. Leena was taking naps in her play yard because the crib was overflowing with clothes. For days, I ignored the clothes. I pretended they weren’t there, that I didn’t have to deal with them. I shut the bedroom door and enjoyed the rest of the house. I did other things, like scrub the floors and clean the bathroom, but I couldn’t deal with the clothes. I seriously felt like I might suffocate every time I saw the pile. It might be the closest I’ve ever come, since a certain bungee trampoline in St. Louis, to a full-blown panic attack. Even if I folded the clothes, where would I put them? How would I organize them?

I had a total mental block. And around that mental block I built a wall of denial. Every morning when it was time to get dressed, I’d rummage in the crib to find clothes for everyone to wear.

So I finally called in an expert. My friend Molly Ann. She has experience running a small business and she watches A&E Hoarders, an Emmy-nominated show that provides “a fascinating look inside the lives of people whose inability to part with their belongings is so out of control that they are on the verge of a personal crisis.” I invited Molly Ann to do a real-live intervention.

She came in like a one-woman reality show crew and we got down to business. We got it all sorted, folded, and put away with a manageable system in place to keep me organized from here on out. We also unearthed some purple swag that had been buried under all the disorder: Sonya’s purple sunglasses, tuque, and tutu. Leena appropriated all of it and high-fived Molly Ann, because Leena is like a baby in a sitcom.

I sort of participated in the whole enterprise in a dazed and glassy-eyed kind of way. But afterwards, I felt so wonderful to have the clothing situation under control. I am amazed by how quickly Molly Ann sorted everything out. I think I just needed someone else to help me through this step by step.

Thanks, Molly Ann! I owe you a million favors.

This morning, the Big D left for a conference in Washington D.C. being run by the Department of Defense. His little sluggers miss him already.

Meanwhile, I’ve jam-packed our schedule with holiday prep, play dates, and fun excursions to make the time fly by!

Once upon a time, a blue donkey named Eeyore arrived from Shanghai. I don’t know how well you can see his tag, but it’s written in Mandarin. That’s how we know for sure that he’s the original. He also looks a little smaller and scruffier compared to the other Eeyores.

There are now six Eeyores in our house. Four of them are hidden. Two of them are in circulation. First Eeyore and New Eeyore.

Why are there so many Eeyores? Because when Eeyore didn’t come back home with us after an afternoon of running errands, Drex couldn’t handle it. He didn’t know what to do. After we checked at the grocery store and the pharmacy without success, he even suggested printing flyers like you would for a missing pet.

Sonya was distraught. She kept wandering the house before bedtime, calling out, “Eeyore! Come OUT! Where you hiding Eeyore? Where you ARE?”  Even though she’d eventually curl up in bed, there were three sad pathetic nights when she bolted awake around 2 a.m. and called out, “EEYORE! Where Eeyore? I need Eeyore!”

We tried to explain that Eeyore had gotten lost.

“Eeyore coming back soon?” Sonya asked day after day and night after night.

We kept hedging our answers, hoping that Eeyore would turn up. Some kindly neighbor would bring him to our doorstep or we’d spot him having a coffee with Christopher Robin at a local cafe. But no such luck.

“Eeyore coming back soon?” Sonya kept asking us. It was difficult to give her a straight answer, because she asks the same question every time Daddy leaves for work in the morning or drops her off at daycare once a week. “Daddy coming back soon?”

It’s her way of seeking reassurance. If Daddy is coming back soon, then there’s nothing to worry about. “Soon” could be a few minutes or a few days. As long as the answer is yes, it means that Sonya doesn’t have to worry, that eventually, no matter how many times she has to close her eyes and fall asleep without her Daddy there, he’s going to come back to her, because he always always does.

What would it mean about her beautiful world if Eeyore didn’t come back? What might it imply about other people she loved going away from her presence and getting lost forever?

The next day at work, Drex cracked.

He dropped everything around 3 in the afternoon and went on a city-wide hunt for an Eeyore. He searched here and there, until finally, at a store called Zellers, he found it. Not just any Eeyore. THE Eeyore that Auntie Melissa had sent! Wearing his pink pajamas!

He bought one and came home. He played it off like Eeyore had been in his office the whole time getting work done.

Sonya was so so so happy. It was like Daddy coming home after a long conference. She acted like she’d expected Eeyore home all along. She scolded Eeyore a little bit for being away and making her worry, but then lead him to the toy room and it was as if they’d never been apart.

Then a couple days later, we went to the local hardware store, because I wanted to get a peg board to hang my craft supplies. And you know who’d been there the whole week helping at the lumber yard? First Eeyore!

“Il faisait un apprentissage,” the friendly hardware store guy said. Eeyore was doing an apprenticeship.

When we got home with the pegboard, Second Eeyore was waiting for us by the entryway. Since Eeyore was so valuable, the second one didn’t leave the house. That way, he couldn’t get lost.

Before I could do anything, our parental deception was unmasked— Sonya got confronted by the existence of two Eeyores. I wondered how she would process this information.

She hugged them both to her chest and kissed them on top of their ridiculous pink nightcaps. “Mommy look! They’re the similar! They’re the similar!”

She immediately accepted the fact that there were two Eeyores and never questioned why, all of a sudden, there was an extra Eeyore in her life. The two Eeyores are loved equally and they often do things together. Both of them sleep with Sonya, one tucked under each arm.

“Eeyore got a sister!” Sonya said.

So obviously, they BOTH had to come on our trip to Toronto.

And obviously, when we got back, we couldn’t find either of them. Luckily, Sonya was so tired, she’d fallen asleep without any fuss, but Drex and I started panicking in direct proportion to the amount of sleep deprivation we had accumulated. Did you pack them? I can’t remember. Oh no! They’ve GOT to be here somewhere. Why can’t we find EITHER of them? We couldn’t lose BOTH of them on this trip. I’m SURE I saw at least one in the rental car.

Eventually, we found the two Eeyores.

But Drex wasn’t taking any chances.

The next day, he went back to Zellers and he bought them out of plush donkeys in pink pyjamas. It’s a sort of Eeyore insurance policy. I really hope Sonya doesn’t stumble onto the stash. I don’t know if I could keep track of sextuplets.

Brace yourself. This is a long post. But there are cute pictures to come.

We were in the living room, and I was knitting, when all of a sudden, I heard Leena laughing while she tried to pry an eyeball off the frog pull-toy in the fireplace. Good thing I always have my camera handy.

She was just looking like a perfect cover model baby, so I started taking lots of pictures as she giggled and played with the froggie.

But then along came Sonya with a better idea!

So I set up the backdrop against our (lovely) brown sofa. At this point, I think Sonya would have liked to move onto a different activity, but she cooperated patiently and handed her little sister neon alphabet letter props.

Eight months? Has it been eight months already? Really? Ah, the funny tricks of time. Leena can now

:: crawl around the house, following on our heels as we move from one room to the other

:: grab an object from a lying, sitting, or crawling position

:: transfer the object from hand to hand

:: eat rice biscuits, arrowroot cookies, mashed up black beans, and flakes of chicken (she’s still not a fan of purees or rice cereal)

Leena can also

:: observe everything big sister is doing

:: pull her socks off the minute they get put on her

:: spontaneously giggle— basically all day long, but especially after she’s pulled off her own socks

Even though she mutinied my request to take pictures of her after Leena’s photo shoot, Sonya is just as amazing at 28 months. Sonya can now

:: sleep in her own toddler bed

:: play independently for an entire hour in the morning

:: sing the alphabet song in English and in French

:: sing a variety of other songs, including: Row, Row, Row Your Boat and You Are My Sunshine

:: dance

:: give firm, wonderful hugs

:: use the potty

:: keep Leena from chewing on cords or grabbing choking hazards (like a coin, a fallen nail, and an earring! I didn’t notice any of these things, so Sonya was really a lifesaver!)

Sonya can also

:: introduce herself as Sonya Ruths and indicate how old she is by holding up two fingers

:: use an iPhone to play music, type notes, take pictures, and play games

:: anticipate the next event in the sequence of her routine (i.e. “We just ate lunch. What do we do next?” The correct answer is: “Read a book.”)

:: put on her own socks and shoes before we go outside and take off her own socks and shoes AND put them back in the bin where they should go in the entryway before she enters the house

:: immediately say sorry when she makes a mistake — without being prompted (I could learn a lesson here!)

And, you know, since I’ve been marking Sonya and Leena’s milestones, I thought I’d share a few of the things that I can do now, too.

This month, I’ve discovered that I can

:: workout twice a week (X-Fit Bootcamp class Tuesdays and Sundays)

:: limit the amount of time I spend pointlessly surfing the Internet

:: fill up a hard drive with photographs of my children

:: read a nonfiction book other than a biography or a writing guide

:: make a hearty vegan chili

I can also

:: accept that I’m not supermom

:: introduce myself as a writer to new people I meet

:: finish writing this blog post.  Whew!

The family is gathered in the living room, when Sonya scampers to the hallway and brings back the baby carrier I first used with her and now use with Leena, dragging the long straps behind her.  ”Buckle Eeyore in please, Daddy,” she commands politely.

“Eeyore so safe and cozy,” Sonya says. But that’s not even the best part. Sonya leaves the room and comes back pushing her toy stroller—

“I just like Mommy!” she announces. “I goin’ grocery store!”

[The story of why we own two identical Eeyores in pink pajamas to be told in a future post].

Of course, I was very very touched with Sonya’s endearing portrayal of me. It means she sees how I’m moving through life, and she’s taken that energy and used it in her play. But what really really made me happy was to hear her response when I asked her what she was buying at the grocery store—

“I buyin’ eggs and fruits.”

“What kind of fruits?”

“Apples! Plums!”

“What else?”

“I buy some beans— and I buy some chicken— and I buy some chocolate!”

Today was spent like any ordinary day, but one hour to midnight, and I wonder if I should have done something more epic. Next year, I’ll have to plan something big for 12.12.12.  After that, the chance for such a synchronicity won’t come again for— well, isn’t that doomsday according to the Mayan calendar?

I better start living my best life right now. Tomorrow— 11.12.11 awaits! Better get to sleep!

A rainy day fine motor activity: making fabric covered buttons! We still have leftover snippets from my E&A surprise scrap bag.

I’m excited about my future of crafting with the girls. It’s already wonderful to collaborate on projects. We have a LOT of fabric-covered buttons now. And more treasures like these in our future.

We spent a whirlwind long weekend in Toronto. My head’s still spinning. We drove there on Friday. An hour before we reached our hotel, Sonya threw up everything she’d eaten that day all over herself and the car seat, everywhere. We had to pull over at a Quality Inn off the highway in Oshawa.

“I feeling sick,” Sonya said pathetically, patiently sitting in her own vomit while Drex pulled off the road and circled back into the hotel parking lot.

We reassured her in soothing voices, to let her know we recognized how horrible this experience must be for her. She was being so good, too! She sat with her arms out, palms up, not touching anything, not moving. She was being very zen for a two-year-old. For anyone in such a horrible situation.

“I feeling dizzy,” Sonya said. “I feeling dizzy maybe.”

Five hours into our car trip, I handed back an iPod with episodes of Curious George on it for Sonya to watch. I figured it could keep her busy until we saw the Toronto skyline. Big mistake. Turns out, she gets motion sickness.

Drex took Sonya and her entire carseat to the Quality Inn bathroom to deal with the extreme disgustingness while Leena and I explained our haz-mat emergency to the front desk staff and fidgeted around the lobby.

Saturday morning, Leena and I went to a parenting conference (more on that later, but in a nutshell, I was invited to attend by Kids and Company because I write featured articles for their blog. The conference was hosted in partnership with Today’s Parent magazine, so it was a fabulous networking opportunity with the editor-in-chief and other Canadian mommy writers!) Then we had dinner with our friends who moved to Toronto. They just got a puppy.

Drex spent Sunday in a mad dash to submit a paper before a looming deadline while the girls and I explored downtown. We literally had to wander the urban jungle until noon when the shops finally opened. (It felt longer because of the time change— turning back the clock didn’t fool anyone’s circadian rhythms!)

On Monday, Drex still needed to submit his paper before midnight and give a talk at the University of Toronto. So what could I do for another entire day in a strange city with two little ones? I quizzed the concierge at our hotel. I randomly accosted some parents on the street. Nobody really had any ideas that could fill up a whole day. Being outside, for me, was out of the question. I was still thawing from our endless walkabout on Sunday. I debated going to a museum or a shopping mall. Both seemed like they would wear me out after four hours.

Because we planned on driving back to Montreal in the evening, we’d checked out of our hotel, so I was left without a home base or recharging station. Drex would have the rental car with him and he’d be so busy going to meetings and giving his talk that the girls and I were in a drop-off/pick-up situation. We could take cabs or buses, but I didn’t exactly want to haul them around sight-seeing without Drex. Then it dawned on me. IKEA. I could spend an entire day at IKEA! It has everything. Food, toys, beds, central heating. Really, it was a genius idea. I’d do it again. Just not anytime soon, thanks.

We arrived at the store thirty minutes before it opened. 9:30 a.m. Bright and early. At 10 a.m., we started wandering the showcases on the second floor.

Throughout the day, people complimented and interacted with Sonya and Leena. More than one pregnant woman stopped and asked Sonya for her opinion on different things. We sold at least two toddler beds, a play kitchen, a crib, and a high chair.

“Same as at home. Baby sister Leena sleep here. So safe,” Sonya said about the birch Gulliver crib. “I climbing on it. Buckle in. Don’t fall down,” she said about the Gulliver high chair. “Look! I driving the cars! Vrrrooooom! Vrrrooom!” she said as she rolled some Lillabo cars around her Lekplats roads.

Meanwhile, Leena advertised the Mula bead roller and the soft Barnsling Ringdans rug to expectant moms looking to outfit a nursery.

Around eleven, we had that somewhat bizarre but strangely appealing IKEA food for lunch. Sonya wanted the salmon with steamed veggies and these potato/broccoli medallions. Surprisingly, she ate most of it, along with a half-pint of milk and a cup of fruit.

After lunch, that’s when I feared a turning point. I could anticipate Sonya’s need to take a nap. Otherwise, she’d be cranky the rest of the afternoon. I didn’t actually think it would work, but I suggested we go pick out a children’s showroom and try to have some quiet time, anyway.

Sonya couldn’t decide between two beds. They were, as far as I could tell, nearly identical, but one had red-striped pillows, while the other one had green-striped pillows. Eventually, she mixed and matched and put her head down. I nursed Leena, patted Sonya’s back, and hummed tunelessly. In a matter of minutes, both my girls were asleep. Right there. In the IKEA showroom.

Even though it was Monday, mid-afternoon, the store was packed with families. I don’t know how this happens to be the case. But every IKEA I’ve ever visited— okay, really not that many locations, just Houston and Montreal, but I’ve been to both stores several times to reach the following conclusion— that no matter where or when you go to IKEA, it is always busy. Makes me wonder. What are all these people doing at IKEA? Have all these people come to buy assemble-yourself furniture? Are they here for the Swedish meatballs? Or are they just passing time with nothing better to do like the three of us, trying to recreate a feeling of home in an unfamiliar environment?

While the girls napped for two hours, I read the third book in the Game of Thrones series while various parts of my body went numb. I wasn’t going to move an inch and risk anyone waking up, though.

Meanwhile, people kept wandering into the showroom, jotting down product codes with their miniature golf pencils. More than one set of parents said, “Wow, that’s really great advertising.”

Someone in the bold yellow and blue shirt of an IKEA employee approached us. Uh oh, I thought. I’m about to be told off for using the IKEA furniture.

“I saw your daughter was sleeping on our bed, so I had to come over and tell you— how adorable she is. And oh my goodness! Are you holding another baby? Wow! How in the world did you get them to take a nap together so early in the afternoon? I’ve got three children. Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

When the girls woke up, I still had four hours ahead of me. We felt like IKEA refugees— unstuck in time and space. Wandering aimlessly with no clear home or purpose.

I started intentionally allowing us to do everything in slow motion. We ate pasta. We drank milk. Slowly. No need to hurry. If Sonya stopped to look at something for fifteen minutes, I let her. If Leena wanted to suck on the end of a rolling pin, I let her gum it until she got tired. Eventually, we ran races in the warehouse.

That’s when we stumbled into the fabulous “AS IS” corner of the first floor where chipped or used showroom furniture gets deeply discounted. Jackpot. We picked up a toddler table and stools and added them to the increasing mound of goodies I’d piled into the stroller next to Leena.

I pushed the cart. Sonya pushed the double stroller with Leena in it, veering like a drunk driver around islands of Christmas ornaments and other impulse buys on the way to the cash registers. Getting to the checkout line took us all the way toward 6 p.m.

Then we waited by the sliding doors until Drex came to get us. Sonya and Leena’s boundless energy rubbed off on me. Otherwise, I would have collapsed a long time ago. Somewhere back in the sofa display on a leather Karlstad. Sonya played peekaboo with Leena. People who walked by us smiled and stopped to chat.

These two girls probably could have lasted to store closing. They were well-behaved and having a great time. Thank goodness Drex finally arrived, though.

Having now spent NINE hours at an IKEA with two small children, slowly exploring one showroom after another, I can say that it felt at times like I was participating in a quirky, off-beat indie film about young motherhood.

I now feel like a walking IKEA catalogue— in case you need some Ribba frames to hang above your Ekby Järpen wall shelf behind the Ektorp sofa and Hemnes coffee table in your living room.

This wasn’t my idea. The girls both decided that Leena shouldn’t be a horse. Instead, Sonya wanted Leena to be Flynn Rider, so that they could be “the similar.” Not quite “the same”— but very much “the similar.”

Trick or treat? This actually worked out perfectly, because both of the gorgeous vests Grandmama made were used this Halloween!

As soon as Sonya got the front clasps fastened on her vest, she wanted to head out the door to start trick-or-treating. She’d been practicing the phrase ever since she woke up from her afternoon nap.  SO— this is the best I could do to document the two Flynn Rider girls.