Don't Read This if You're Anti-CIO

I've always been a proponent of putting the babies down "sleepy, but awake." And for the most part, we've avoided CIO. (That's cry-it-out, Kelly!) But lately, Charlotte has been throwing little hissy fits at bedtime. Tonight she even started crying before I put her in the crib, during our rocking/story/singing. She may just be overtired, because as I've mentioned before, my babies don't nap. I guess she could be getting a tooth, because she has none and Gavin has four, but I've been blaming everything on teething lately, and her gums still feel flat as ever. I think what's going on is that she just realized: Hey. I kind of like this lady. I like when she's kissing me, and tickling me, and telling me how cute I am. I don't want to be alone in my crib, in the dark. Get me out of here!

But the thing is, even when I give in and rock her, she still screams and cries and arches her back. Tonight she even flailed and clawed at my eye. I look like I got in a minor scuffle. So when the options are: (1) Charlotte screams alone in her crib, or (2) Charlotte screams in my arms and nearly blinds me, well then-I'm going to choose the first option.

Has anyone else had this happen? When their baby originally was going to sleep on his own, and then decided to cry at bedtime? What do I do?

Unhinged

I had some friends over for dinner on Friday night. These are two of my closest friends - one has known me since middle school, and the other since junior high. I was frazzled. Lately I've been getting pretty good at juggling both babies while doing other tasks, like cooking dinner. But the babies were extrememly cranky on Friday, heightened by the fact that they hadn't had a good nap and both were coming down with a cold. So the vegetable lasagna that I hoped to have baking away was still just ingredients in my pantry by the time they arrived .

By nature, I'm a pretty anxious person. I can keep this in check on most days, but when things aren't going according to plan, I lose it. Friday was one of those days.

So perhaps it was my high level of anxiety, and perhaps it was the wine, but I became a little unhinged. Spilling my guts. Losing my cool. Sweating.

It's a good thing that these girls have known me forever and won't judge me for becoming a raving lunatic once in a while. They constantly reassure me that I'm a mother of young twins, for Pete's Sake, and I'm allowed to have days like that. Thank goodness for old friends. You're the best, A and S.

Now off to tend to whichever baby is babbling through the monitor. He/she wasn't supposed to wake up for another half-hour! This is NOT part of my plan today!

Too Much TV?

I try not to leave the TV on too much during the day, I really do. But it can be nice at times just to have the background noise, and also just to feel a little more connected to the outside world. Honestly, I feel so cooped-up and trapped on some days, especially because it's so cold that I can't really take them out for nice long walks anymore.

But I have to wonder if I have the TV on too much lately, because every time the "800-588-2300, Empire!" jingle comes on TV, the babies literally stop in their tracks, turn to look at the TV, and start gyrating their torsos in what I can only surmise is their first baby dance. (Although it looks a little like an upright version of The Worm. Maybe they're trying to breakdance?) Either way, it's freakin' hysterical. One of these days I'm going to take a video and upload it for you all to see.

Holiday Shopping

I really, really hate the mall this time of year. I hate it mostly because people are stressed, and when people are stressed, they tend to be nasty and unappreciative. And when people are nasty and unappreciative, it puts me in a foul mood. And when I'm in a foul mood, no one's happy.

Last year at this time I was pregnant. And deliriously, unapologetically happy about it. I was really starting to show, and I had just begun to feel the babies move, and after all that I had been through, I couldn't (and wouldn't) contain my excitement. Nothing was bringing me down; not even tired, stressed-out, grumpy holiday shoppers.

I went to the mall about a week before Christmas last year. I was having some difficulty with my maternity pants, and by that I mean I was having trouble keeping them up for some reason. A pregnant acquaintance at work told me about "belly bands," which are basically like tube tops that fit over your pants to keep them up. I was braving the holiday crowds and making my way to the maternity store in the mall to buy one.

First of all, the maternity store in the mall is literally the size of a postage stamp. Whoever drew up the plans to this store was obviously male, because there is no room for pregnant ladies to maneuver without bumping into the racks and/or each other. Forget strollers. And a double stroller would have been downright comical. Anyway, immediately after entering this store, I knew something was very, very wrong. There was a man in there who was clearly mentally ill. He was rambling and wandering around the racks, and I could tell the cashier was nervous. I don't remember the details of the conversation exactly, but for some reason the cashier was requesting his address and typing it into the computer. I'm not sure if he was charging clothing on some sort of store credit, but he wasn't making much sense. He was telling the cashier that he lived in California, and his !#$&! ex-wife took the house, and he was homeless, etc... She couldn't get a straight answer out of him. Adding to the tension was the fact that his sentences were completely peppered with expletives. And I mean the dirty ones; the kind I can't type here now for fear that my 10-year-old nephew is reading this blog. At one point he even asked the cashier for scissors. (Which, to my horror, she gave him, and he proceeded to cut some tags off of his shirt. That's probably a whole other story.) So needless to say, I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in that confined space, and the cashier was as well. She was the only employee in the store.

After a while the man turned his attention to me. He wanted to know what I was buying (and I wasn't about to tell him a belly band and maternity tights!) and also wanted to know if he could buy some things for me. Ew. I ignored him as best as I could, and tried to avoid eye contact while smiling politely. He seemed to be getting more and more upset and agitated, and I didn't want to do anything else to set him off.

I found what I was looking for as quickly as possible, and was already completing my transaction at the register when he grabbed my hand. I was shocked, and rendered completely immobile for the moment. And I was scared. At first I thought he was searching for a wedding ring, but after a second or two it became apparent that he was reading my palm. "What are you having?" he asked. "Twins," I replied. "A boy and a girl." Now, in hindsight, I probably should have told this guy where to go, or at least have told him to let go of my hand or I would call the authorities. But I was scared. So I answered his question. "They're not going to be born," he told me. "Neither one will make it."

Alright, I'm a rational person, and I know this guy was crazy. But I cannot tell you how much that encounter unnerved me. As someone who struggled with infertility for 2+ years, that was precisely the opposite of what I needed to hear. I was visibly upset. The cashier was whispering that he was crazy, that he didn't know what he was talking about, and not to worry. But the damage had been done. I left the store, sat on a bench in the middle of the mall, and sobbed. Talk about putting a damper on my holiday spirit.

Obviously, the story ended well. Charlotte and Gavin are here, and are perfectly healthy. But I think about that day often; not about the man (I'd like to forget him), but about the cashier. I regret that when I left the store I was too shaken to have the common sense to go get a security guard, and she was left alone with him. I hope she is okay as well.

Post Script: I have been sitting here for upwards of 20 minutes, precious time for any mother, trying to think of how to wrap up this post in a way that will tell you the moral of the story. I can't think of anything. I'm not sure there is one. If any of you can think of one for me, help me out and comment. And incase you were wondering, the belly band worked out well. Kept my pants in place on most days.

But Who's Counting?

Number of bottles mixed and fed today: 8

Number of Meals Fed to the Babies Today: 6, three each

Number of diapers changed today: 14*

Number of Times I Washed My Hands: 20*

Number of clothing changes today: 9; one outfit in the morning per baby, another outfit per baby when they each pooped all over the first outfit, and a one pair pajamas per baby. One outfit in the morning for me, another outfit for me when Gavin spit up lentils and vegetable stew on my cords, and a pair of pajamas for me. (Sidebar: Why is it called a pair of pajamas?)

Number of snaps on Gavin's overalls, onesie, and shirt that required unsnapping and resnapping any time I changed his diaper: 14

Number of times I ascended or descended a pair of steps today: 25-30* (Our kitchen refrigerator went kaput...I kept having to run downstairs to the one in our basement).

Number of Times I Sang "You Are My Sunshine": 6 (twice before each of two naptimes, and twice before bedtime, as part of our sleep routine)

Number of Almond Raspberry Shortbread Thumbprint Cookies I Made Yesterday: 36

Number of Almond Raspberry Shortbread Thumbprint Cookies I Ate Today: 6*

Number of Dollars Spent at Target Today: $53

Number of Kisses Given to Charlotte and Gavin Today: 200, each*

Number of Kisses Given to Michael Today: 1

Number of Minutes I Had For Myself Today: 8, when I was in the shower

*Numbers are approximate.

Charlotte and Gavin as Elves

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1457604542

What Does Your Christmas Tree Say About You?

Swistle's post about Christmas Tree Toppers got me thinkin' about Christmas trees in general. Everyone has such strong opinions about what constitutes the perfect tree. Colored lights vs. white lights; real tree vs. artificial tree; star tree topper vs. angel tree topper... These are serious decisions, people! Many of you have a tree with a theme. This can be a color theme, as in: "We only decorate with red and gold ornaments," or an ornament theme, as in: "We only use glass balls." (Even as I typed that, it sounded dirty. Stop snickering.)

One of my sisters decorates her tree with snowmen. Okay, one or two other ornaments may have snuck in there undetected, but for the most part, it's snowmen as far as the eye can see. Another sister's tree has a "Robot Theme." I have yet to see it, but from what I understand, it's decorated with white lights and robot ornaments. (You are probably asking the same question I asked: Where would one purchase an assortment of robot ornaments? Why, Old Navy, of course. Who knew?) When I think about those sisters and their respective personalities, those trees happen to suit them perfectly.

So what does my tree say about me? Observe:

I have lots of things around the house that say "Believe," including ornaments. These things spoke to me during my days of infertility, I think, because it reminded me to remain hopeful:

I'm also a fairly patriotic person, and I love the Fourth of July, which would explain these beauties:

So what's this one doing on my decidedly American tree? (I received it from a student who visited Canada and thought of me. Adorable!)

Which brings me to the, um, lovely ornaments from students....and there are many....

And I have some Noah's Ark ornaments, which I find quite amusing. I had a thing for Noah's Ark ornaments long before I had twins. A sign, the whole two-by-two thing, don't you think?

And then there was the year I tried to go all vintage (or reproduction vintage)....

And the year I tried to go all rustic...

And then there are some ornaments that are just plain puzzling, like "The Green Pickle" and the one I like to call "The Double-Eyed Cowboy":

So, in summary, what does my tree say about me? That I'm a patriotic-teachery-strangely telepathic-vintage-rustic-pickle loving (again, sounds dirty)-cowgirl? Or perhaps it just says that I'm eclectic. Yeah, we'll say that. Eclectic. At any rate, I think it turned out just beautifully; the perfect Christmas tree. And it personifies me to a T.

Oh Christmas Tree

We got our Christmas tree the other night. It was bitter cold and the twins didn't seem to be too into it, but it was fun nonetheless. Of course, I had to document it. Their first Christmas tree!

Charlotte gave this one the thumbs-up:

Gavin checked it out too, but still found his pacifier to be much more interesting!

The Missing Sock...

The wait is over. It looks like Aunt Sessy really knows her nephew...

By the way, only 5 of you guessed? What about my friends and family who tell me, "I read your blog all the time!"? Time to delurk and comment! :)

Let's Play a Game...

Where is Charlotte's sock? Add your guess in the "comments" section, and I'll let you know in a day or two. Oh, and no fair guessing if you already know...

More of the Same....

Babies up at 5am. Mommy tired. Nothing even remotely witty to say today.

I'll leave you with a photo of the babies on Thanksgiving:

And another:

And one of Gavin, mid-fall: (What a good Mom Mom, right there to catch him...)

more sleep blogging

You are probably all so sick of hearing me gripe and complain about the twins' sleeping situation, so if you've had enough, go read someone else's blog today. I'll recommend Jane over at Baby Squared.

I know I'll catch heat for saying this, but Gavin is a Momma's Boy. He's happiest when I'm holding him and kissing him and generally just loving him up. Which is nice. Most of the time. But not at 4 am.

I'm lucky in that my babies go to sleep at around 7 pm with little intervention on my part. Charlotte, as I may have already mentioned, will usually sleep through until about 7 am, barring any stuffy noses or messy diapers. And Gavin wants to sleep until 7 am, I'm sure of it. (Perhaps it's a bit of wishful thinking on my part, because I want to sleep until 10 am, er, 7am, but I really do think he needs that sleep). For the past few weeks he's been forcing himself to wake up early just so I'll come in, pick him up, and snuggle/rock him back to sleep. He chatters and grumbles and whines (but never really cries) until I come in and pick him up. This goes on for HOURS. This morning, he started chattering around 4am, stopped for about a half hour, and then continued until I finally went and got him at about 6:15 am. I know, I should have just kept him awake at that point, but as soon as I picked him up, he laid his head on my shoulder and went right to sleep. So I did what was probably the worst possible thing I could do: I brought him into bed with me and let him sleep until 7am when Charlotte woke up.

Dr. Weissbluth claims that if I ignore Gavin for a few nights, he'll stop. As I see it, there are two problems with this approach: (1) I've tried ignoring him for several nights. Not only has he not stopped, but now he is waking up even earlier. And he doesn't go back to sleep. Honestly, the kid will chatter and whine for hours. (2) Charlotte and Gavin share a room. It isn't fair to her to have Gavin keeping her awake. For the most part, she seems to sleep through it, or at the very least she doesn't cry. I can just picture her in her crib, wide awake, a look of total annoyance on her face as she rolls her eyes in Gavin's direction, thinking, "I need my beauty sleep, for Pete's Sake!"

I think we might have to stick Gavin in the pack-and-play in another room for the time being, turn off the monitor (can I admit that?), and just let him chatter and whine for as long as it takes. If he was hungry or something, that would be one thing...but he just wants to cuddle! Am I being mean?

Bittersweet

I stopped breastfeeding.

I feel surprisingly emotional about it; I'm much more emotional than I thought I would be. In the beginning, I hated it. But now that I'm able to step back from my experience with a little perspective, step back from pumping every three hours while they were in the NICU, and from pumping for the first three months that they were home, and from the frustration I felt from having to use the nipple shields, I realize that my experience was not exactly typical. I'll bet most people don't hate it as much as I did at first. Once the babies grew (and more importantly, their little mouths grew) everything just sort of fell into place. At first, I was all, "You have got to be some kind of masochist to enjoy this. Who are these women? It's the worst kind of torture I can imagine!" And then I was more, "Hey! I can do this! This is easy! This is nice. I get it!" I've learned some things from this experience; to give myself a little credit when I deserve it, and also to be kind to myself. I allowed myself to hate it in the beginning, and I allowed myself to supplement with formula, too, without feeling guilty about any of it (on most days). I muddled through the postpartum and managed to nurse premature twins for 8 1/2 months. That's something!

Which is why I'm so sad that I had to stop. Those first few months of pumping really gave the babies a *taste* of how easy it is to drink from a bottle. Charlotte never really loved nursing. From the start, she would only want to nurse on occasion, when she was in the mood and when I really had a good supply to offer. (This has given me a little insight as to what she's going to be like as a teenager). Gavin was a little more willing, but now that he has four teeth, he thinks it's really a lot of fun to bite. I've tried all the tricks: pulling him off, sternly saying "NO!", not allowing him to nurse for a few minutes. He thinks it's all funny. Like: "Look at Mommy! She's trying Tough Love! Isn't she hysterical? I'm going to bite her again to see what she'll do next!"

So, between Charlotte arching her back and screaming almost every time I try to nurse (which does nothing for my milk supply, causing her to want to nurse even less) and Gavin using me as a teething ring (ditto on the milk supply) I realized that I would either have to quit or pump every few hours to rebuild my supply. And quite honestly, the thought of pumping again after doing it for four months solid was, well, less than appealing.

So I stopped.

But I really wasn't ready. I wanted to continue at least through the winter, and I honestly thought I'd nurse them for even longer. It just wasn't in the cards.

Times they are a-changin'.

A-Ha!

From www.ehow.com:

These gingerbread ornaments look and smell like edible gingerbread - but don't eat them! They become very hard after they are baked and are meant to be painted and then hung as Christmas ornaments.

Ingredients:
6 tbsp. shortening
1 cup sugar
1 cup molasses
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. ground cloves
2 tsp. ginger
2 tsp. cinnamon
7 cups flour
1 1/2 cups water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Beat shortening and sugar together in a large bowl. Stir in molasses.
Sift baking soda, ground cloves, ginger, cinnamon and flour together in a large bowl. Stir this mixture plus water into the sugar and shortening mixture, alternately adding the water and baking soda mixture to the shortening mixture.
Stir until mixed thoroughly and refrigerate 6-8 hours.
Cut dough into three equal pieces, knead each piece lightly and then use a rolling pin to roll out each piece to a 1/4-inch thickness.
Use holiday cookie cutters made in the shapes of gingerbread people and houses to cut shapes out of the dough.
Use a medium- to large-sized drinking straw or the end of a wooden chopstick to make a hole at the top of each shape.
Put cookies on cookie sheets and bake for about 20 minutes. Turn oven off and allow cookies to cool in the oven. This will help harden the cookies.
Place cookies on racks to completely harden. Place racks in a cool, dry place and let sit for two to three days.
Coat cookies with clear acrylic or varnish and allow cookies to dry thoroughly.
Paint cookies with acrylic paints as desired. Allow paint to dry thoroughly.
Thread a 5- to 6-inch length of narrow ribbon or cording through the hole at the top of each ornament. Knot ends and hang ornaments.

Tips & Warnings
This recipe can be halved. The recipe above makes approximately 30-40 cookies; the number of cookies you actually get will depend upon the size of your cookie cutters.
String gingerbread people together to make a gingerbread garland or a gingerbread wreath.
Coat cookies with an additional layer of clear acrylic or varnish to protect paint.
Explain to small children that these cookie ornaments are not to be eaten.

Help from the Peanut Gallery

Surely someone out there must know how to make real Gingerbread Man Ornaments. A student of mine made one for me a few years back, and I thought it might be a cute idea to make for people like Gavin's physical therapist and the nice ladies in our pediatrician's office. I want the real thing, not a gingerbread man traced on a piece of felt. Is it really as simple as baking the cookies, letting them dry out for a day or two, and then spraying them with clear varnish? Please advise.

We Can't Decide If We Like This Guy....

Gratitude

This is an activity I do with my third graders every year, but I think it's valuable for all ages...

I am thankful for:

My family and friends, whose boundless love and loyalty were certainly pushed to the limits this year, but they never once let me down.

Michael, who never lets me take myself too seriously. Thank goodness.

All of my fertility specialists, who sat with me for countless hours, hugged me when I needed it, commiserated, listened, let me freak out, never treated me like just a number, yelled at Michael when he wasn't being particularly supportive, and even shed a tear or two with me.

Dr. C., who took care of me when I went into preterm labor, and who actually SAT DOWN in my hospital room with me to calm me down, and told me that I was an amazing mom already.

The doctors and nurses in the NICU, who treated Charlotte and Gavin like they were their own. There are no words.

Caffeine. Even in small amounts, due to my nursing situation.

Concealer. The bags under my eyes are ridiculous.

Spanx and padded push-up bras. No matter what I do, things are never going to look like they did before.

Coupons. Diapers and such are not cheap.

Charlotte and Gavin. Who knew such little beings could bring such indescribable joy. I am so very blessed.

Pssstt...

It's 9:51 am. The babies went down for a nap at 9:10 am. That means they've been sleeping for (pause while I count on my fingers...) 41 minutes. That's 11 minutes longer than their longest nap in the past few weeks. Whoopie! Maybe this sleep training is starting to pay off!

By the way, I realize all my posts lately have been about sleep. But honestly, that's all I've been thinking about lately. Yesterday I was so tired, I:

(1) poured hot chocolate mix into my bowl of cereal
(2) attempted to stick a pacifier into Michael's mouth instead of Charlotte's
(3) ate half of an enchilada, the whole while thinking, "Wow, this tastes weird," before I realized there was BEEF in it! I've been a vegetarian for five years, and still it took me several bites to figure out what was different about that enchilada. The upside is that I realize I don't miss beef. At all.

A Full Night's Sleep, Kinda.

Oh, Sweet Jesus, the babies slept from 7:30 pm until 6:45 am last night. Now, before you get all excited, I said the babies slept. Not the mommy slept. I was up every two hours or so, tiptoeing in, wondering why no one was crying. Michael got up for work early this morning, around 4:30 am, and doesn't feel the need to even attempt to be quiet while getting ready. So unfortunately, I did not get the 8 hours of sleep that I've been waiting for for eight months now. But now I know it's possible, and it will happen one day when the stars all align and the babies don't have colds and my cats aren't wrestling outside of my bedroom door and Michael takes a quiet shower and Gavin manages to keep his pacifier in his mouth for the entire night. Fingers crossed.

What I Would Give For a Nap...

Can anyone explain why my babies only nap for 30 minutes twice a day, with no exceptions? They clearly need more, as evidenced by the hysterical screaming in the late afternoon and evenings.

My New Favorite Websites

Looking for a meaningful holiday gift? If you're like me, you're completely tired of giving the standard gifts: baked goods, candles, picture frames, lotions, etc...

Why not give a gift that gives back? Real Simple magazine just published a feature about charity websites that allow you to purchase a gift certificate, give it to a friend or loved one, and then that person can go on the site and choose where they want the money to go. These are my two favorites:

http://www.markmakers.org/
This is a website intended for children. You can choose a gift card in the amount of $10 or more, and the recipient can return to the site to decide how the money is spent. They can choose from a number of causes, from helping vaccinate children to helping people fleeing from religious persecution and war.

http://www.changingthepresent.org/
This site offers 33 causes to donate to. You create a card (or choose one of their designs) to send to the recipient. Causes range from adopting a snowy owl to funding field trips to supporting senior centers.

Imagine the conversations you could have as a result of this gift! Now, if I could just convince my nephew that this is more important than a PS2 game....

You Can Take the SAHM Out of the Kitchen...

The past two weekends I've had an opportunity to get dressed up; first for a friend's 30th birthday party, and then for another friend's wedding. It was a welcomed change, since I rarely wear makeup or style my hair anymore...there's just no time...and my standard uniform lately consists of sweats and a baggy t-shirt. At the wedding, a friend kept commenting to me: "You look really good. I mean, I don't want to sound weird, but you look radiant." (Thanks, D).



Alas, despite all my efforts, I still manage to bring little pieces of home with me. Observe the splotch of pureed sweet potato on my dressed-to-impress designer jeans:


At the party, after this photo was taken, a friend pointed out even more sweet potato. Oh, well.

Bath Time

Gavin has discovered his "best friend" in the tub. I'll leave it at that.

Science Project

Gavin's got some upper-respiratory bug. He's been pretty sick: coughing, runny nose, wheezing, the works. He's been up during the night since he's having a tough time breathing through that stuffy nose, so in turn, I've been up a lot during the night. He's on an antibiotic and nebulizer treatments three times a day.

Our pediatrician warned me to keep him away from Charlotte, which I find amusing.

In a feeble attempt to keep the germs at bay, I've been sterilizing all of the bottles and pacifiers. When the babies first came home from the NICU, I was a sterilizing queen, but that habit has gotten lost in the shuffle of our day-to-day routine. They're lucky that the bottles even get washed by this point.

So yesterday morning, after yet another night of little sleep, I was sterilizing happily, when I noticed that the bottle brush was a little dingy, too. I decided to throw that into the sterilizer as well. After all, cleaning bottles with a dirty, germy bottle brush kind of defeats the purpose, right? It sounded good in theory, and then:



Hmmm...apparently metal gets really hot in the microwave.

Well, Dear Readers, I made it back from Disney in one piece. Thank you to those of you who emailed me expressing concern that I did not survive. My computer has been out-of-commission for over a week, so I couldn't regale you with any tales until now. And I have many stories to tell you, believe me. I promise I'll get to all of them, but it's getting late, and the babies and I are all sick, and this Daylight Savings Thing is throwing us all off, and my kitchen looks like a bomb hit it so I have to go clean.

For now, I'll leave you with photos of the babies on Halloween. My mom made the costumes...aren't they great? Wait until you see what I have in mind for next year....

Disney

Ah, yes. It's the week that I've been dreading looking forward to for some time now. Disney World. With the twins. My entire family is going, so there was no way I wasn't going. I know it's going to be a blast once we get there, but it's all the planning that has me a little nutty right now. I'm sure I'll have plenty of stories to tell upon my return!

Wrong On So Many Levels....

S-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g

Back in May, I blogged about how Gavin always had his hands balled up in tight fists. I was worried, because he never seemed relaxed, and I was too tired at that point to consider that Gavin might actually grow and consequently his muscles might develop. I think back about that now and smile. I was so overwhelmed and sleep-deprived that I couldn't imagine any of this ever getting any easier, and it was that very thought that launched me into a pretty intense, er, funk.

I'm happy to report that these days I'm often funk-free. Tired, yes, but funk-free. Gavin qualified for physical therapy, so this lovely lady named Debbie comes out every other week to work with him. She shows me some stretches and massage that we can do to reduce his increased muscle tone. And it seems to be working! When we began a month ago, Gavin wasn't pulling his knees up to his chest, which is essential for crawling. After a few weeks of therapy, he's pulling those knees up like a champ. Pre-therapy, he was noticing his hands, but they always seemed to be clenched. Just this week he's been examining his outstretched hands, much to my delight.

I worried originally that this rigidity indicated something about his personality; that he was going to be a serious, uptight boy because he was always so tense. (I would have loved him anyway, mind you!) To my surprise, he is growing into an easy-going, relaxed baby. He smiles often, giggles a lot, and seems downright tickled at the busy world around him.

You're going to have to take my word for it, though. I've been trying to find a photo of Gavin to post here, just so I can show you how relaxed and open-handed he is. Alas, almost every photo I find shows Gavin tight-fisted and tense. Ah, the irony.

Heavy

When I was a teenager (from about age 14 to 16), I danced on a television show called Dance Party USA. Every Saturday, for two years, I made my way to Philly and danced my little heart out on camera. Yes, it is a source of embarrassment, and not something I talk about a whole lot...mostly to avoid the good-natured teasing I get from my husband and family. But the fact is, it was a huge part of my formative years, especially because it was just good, clean fun. Oh, there were relationship dramas --who was dating who, and such -- but that was really the extent of it. Nobody fought, nobody said an unkind word to one another; we all just danced off some of that teenage angst we were feeling and occasionally made out behind the set. Good times.

Because it was a national show, those of us who danced every week were considered "regulars" and got fan mail. I'm sure you can imagine what this did for my self-image, since I was a skinny, lanky teenager, and definitely in my "awkward phase." (Never mind that some of the mail was from convicted felons in prison...) Since we were young, the producers of the show would screen any mail that came in, and weed out anything that was inappropriate, lewd, or hurtful. And they usually did a fine job of it. But one day, I opened an anonymous letter and was shocked by the things that a female viewer had written to me. She opened the letter by telling me, in her eloquent 14-year-old vocabulary, how unattractive I was. She also quipped that "my mother must be blind because she dresses me funny" and that I "smile too much." (I didn't know there was such a thing!) She closed the letter by telling me that she was my "#1 Hater." Now, my ego was bruised a little, but mostly I just couldn't believe that someone took the time out of their day to actually write this letter and send it off somewhere. In my sheltered, suburban existence, it was a foreign idea to me that someone could harbor so much hate over something so innocuous, something that had so little impact on their own life. I remember this event not because it hurt my feelings, but because it was my first experience with someone who hated just for hate's sake, and who felt the need to direct that hatred at someone, someone they didn't even know.

I'm glad I grew up in a time and a home where that letter was the most malicious thing I could imagine. I'm sure my parents sheltered me from a lot of the ugliness going on in the world. Now that I'm a parent, I'm thinking a lot more about the things I'm going to have to shelter Charlotte and Gavin from: nooses hanging from trees in Jena, kids egging on classmates in schoolyard fights, filming the fights with their cell phones, and posting the footage on You-Tube. Right down the road from us, in the school district where my sister teaches, a 14-year-old boy was just caught plotting an attack reminiscent of Columbine, and his mother was charged with buying her son the weapons. Can you even imagine?

To steal a quote from "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert...."Why is life all crazy like this?"

A New Level of Stupid

On our trip to the grocery store yesterday...

Grocery Store Employee: Are they twins?
Me: Yep.
GSE: How old are they?
Me: 7 months.
GSE: Both of them?

It's Begun...

I am officially that mom. You know, the one who hears their child cough and automatically assumes it's pneumonia? In my defense, I do think my antennae are up because of the whole insurance debacle, because I was never really an alarmist before.

Let me give you some background. Gavin is generally a happy baby. Both babies are generally happy, really, but Gavin fusses less than Charlotte. They are both easy to appease, usually stop crying once they are held, and can often be put to sleep without a major amount of effort. (She says, as she pauses to glance at the ceiling for evidence of a lightening bolt about to strike.)

So today, at his normal naptime, Gavin was inconsolable. He had a full belly, a clean diaper, and I could tell he was tired because he was rubbing his eyes. Normally under these conditions, he's asleep before I turn on the monitor. Today was different---he would not. stop. screaming. I brought him back downstairs, where Michael and I both tried to calm him down. No luck. In fact, the screaming got worse. I thought perhaps he needed another diaper change, and when I removed the diaper, I saw what appeared to be a yellowish-blue bruise stretching across his abdomen. This sent my mind reeling. Was there some blunt trauma that I didn't know about? Could a too-tight diaper have caused this? Was he bleeding internally?

I frantically called the doctor's office, but the staff was out to lunch and due to return in ten minutes. Ten more minutes and I would have completely lost my mind, so I hopped in the car with Gavin screaming in his car seat and headed straight to the office. I was barely out of the driveway before he fell asleep.

I decided to forgo the trip to the doctor's office for the moment, but I was still panicked, so my mom came over to have a look at the bruise and help determine my next course of action. Turns out it wasn't a bruise after all. We were out taking a walk earlier in the day, and it was pretty hot, and I think some of the dye from the Winnie the Pooh design on Gavin's diaper transferred onto his skin. At least, that's what I'm guessing, since the "bruise" washed off with soap and water.

I have a feeling this won't be the last time I'm thrown into a panic over something like diaper dye.

Gotta Love Insurance Companies!

The babies had a 7-month checkup today. All went very well. Charlotte weighs in at 16 lbs, 3 ozs., and Gavin tips the scales at 17 lbs, 5 ozs. Our pediatricians and the NICU neonatologists have recommended that the twins receive the RSV vaccine this winter. Since they were born more than 2 months early and their immune systems are still developing, a case of RSV could do some serious damage. They would each need one shot once a month for 6 months, November - April, which is considered RSV season.

Except that our insurance company doesn't agree. Apparently, it was decided that the babies don't really need the shot. (Which begs the question: If 31-weekers don't need the shot, who does?)

They turned down our pediatrician's request to have the twins vaccinated, which means we would have to pay out-of-pocket for the vaccine. How much does an RSV vaccine cost, you ask? Somewhere around $1000 per shot. And remember, they need 6 shots. Per baby. Are you doing the math, people? That's $12,000 in shots.

Which means, unless the insurance company has a change of heart (let's all have a chuckle at that one), the babies will not be vaccinated against RSV this winter. Which means they will not be leaving our house this winter. We will be stockpiling food, water, and Purell, boarding up the doors and windows, and hunkering down for the winter. We'll send out an occasional digital photo just so you can see how we are faring. See you all in May!

Keeping Score

--Teeth--

Gavin: 2
Charlotte: 0

Scheduling Conflict

So, I have achieved some semblance of a schedule with the babies. Our mornings operate like a well-oiled machine. They are up around 7:00, they play, eat oatmeal, take baths, nurse, and go down for a nap around 9:00am. The afternoon naps are still anybody's guess, but they have been slightly more predictable of late. The sleep training is also going quite well. On many occasions I can put the babies down awake and they go to sleep on their own. If they don't, it usually requires only minimal intervention on my part.

I am giving myself a mental pat-on-the-back as I type.

My only concern is this: What happens when very scheduled babies are suddenly taken off of their schedule? Sure, a schedule is great when you're at home, but we are heading to Disney World with my entire family in two weeks. There will be no rocking chairs, no cozy familiar cribs, no "schedule." I am afraid. Very afraid. Once, the babies were out at a restaurant past their bedtime, and they screamed inconsolably until I finally took them home. What am I going to do at the Hoop-De-Do Review (sp?), which will inevitably run past their bedtime? Any advice would be appreciated from my fellow Type A mommies.

Two is Enough!

Sometimes, when I have both babies downstairs with me, and I'm very tired, I swear I hear another baby crying in the house. And for a split-second, I think, "Well, I guess the other baby is awake. I should go get him/her."

That's when I close my eyes and thank my lucky stars that I have twins, not triplets.

Charlotte and Gavin: Tiny Celebrities

Who knew my babies were famous? Check out the cover of OK! magazine.

http://perezhilton.com/?p=6515

Guilty Pleasures, Take 2

This list was so much fun, I actually thought of more:

Dr. Phil
So pompous, I love it.

Kohr's Brothers Vanilla and Chocolate Twist Ice Cream Cone with Rainbow Jimmies
Worth the weight.

Blogging
Perhaps the time would be better spent folding onesies, but this definitely centers me.

Reading Old Love Letters
When I spend my day with spit-up and mashed banana on my shirt, it's nice to know that someone once thought I was sexy.

Way-Too-Expensive Beauty Products
When I spend my day with spit-up and mashed banana on my shirt, it's nice to know that I might one day be sexy again.

Guilty Pleasures

Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte
Delicious this time of year. Usually something like this is too sweet for my taste, but this drink really puts me in an autumnal mood.

Dancing With the Stars/American Idol
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I can't miss these. It's like a drug.

Justin Timberlake
I love me some Justin Timberlake.

any Will Farrell movie
He is probably the most hysterical person on the planet, in my opinion. I mean, really, have you seen Anchorman?

mid-day naps
I haven't seen a nap in about 7 months. Maybe in another year or two.

Us Weekly/People/any Celebrity Trash Magazine
It brings out the voyeur in me, and it's mindless entertainment, which I sometimes desperately need. Something about seeing that "stars are just like us" makes me feel better.

What's your guilty pleasure?

Music for Babies and Mommies Alike

I just made an iTunes Mix for the babies. It didn't publish all of my songs (some weren't available on iTunes), but most are there. I have my iPod on almost constantly, and I needed a soundtrack for our bedtime routine! I hope this link will take you to it, if you're interested...

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewIMix?id=265216590

E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES!

Give and Take

You know how life is supposed to be about give-and-take? Lately, I feel like I'm all "give." The babies are little, so they can't help how needy they are right now. I'm sure I'll get my share of "take" from them later when they are able to reciprocate more than a smile. But boy, at this stage, I couldn't be giving any more of myself...and since I'm nursing, I mean that in the most literal sense.

When the twins finally go to sleep, I just want to be alone. A-L-O-N-E. With a good book. But there's a husband that I need to give some of my attention to, since the only quality time we've spent together during the day included diaper-changing. And then there's my cats, who might be the world's neediest. They want to be petted, and cuddled, and they want to lay all over me. Trying to ignore them makes matters worse - they head-butt me and lay on top of the book I'm reading or the computer keyboard. So I give in, and they get their share of attention too. And then there's the laundry that needs to be folded, the dishes that need to be washed, the toilets that deperately need to be scrubbed because I can't seem to find the time to clean....

Becoming a mother definitely means giving up "me" time. But I'm so busy tending to everyone else's needs, who's left to tend to mine?

Can you tell it's been an exhausting day? I'm off to go read a little of "Eat, Pray, Love."

Sleep Deprivation

Here are some random items that I've pulled out of the washer lately. Apparently, I need to pay closer attention when doing the laundry.

-Charlotte's Robeez shoes
-barrettes of all sizes
-a used, wet diaper
-a pair of Gavin's new pants, with tags AND hanger still attached

Noise

We have some work being done on our house, so there's a ton of noise in here today. Banging, jackhammering, yelling, and just overall chaos. The babies are somehow peacefully napping through it. So why is it that they wake up the moment I tiptoe into the room? In fact, they seem to wake up the moment I even think about them waking up?

It must some sort of weird mother-child intuition thing.

I Scream, You Scream

I know I haven't posted for a week, which is about how long the babies have been screaming. I'm not sure what is going on with them, but if they are not being held or pushed in their stroller, they are screaming at the top of their lungs.

They woke up at about 6:30 this morning, and began screaming right away. It is now close to 9:00 am, and I am just about at my scream-limit, so the babies are screaming in their cribs for the moment. Actually, I only hear one of them, so perhaps the other has screamed him/herself to sleep.

They have no fever, and are eating normally. The doctor thinks they may be teething, and also may need some more solid foods. All I know is, if their screaming doesn't stop soon, I'm going to start. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Did I mention Michael is in Boston for a bachelor party? When do I get my weekend away?

National Nurse Out

Today, there are "Nurse-Outs" being held around the country at Applebee's Restaurants. Have you heard about the incident that occurred recently at Applebee's in Kentucky?

"The dispute with Applebee's began June 14. Ryan chose a booth in the back of the restaurant away from other customers. When her baby, Michael, got hungry, she began to nurse him discreetly, she said.But a waitress came over and said that if she wanted to breast-feed, she had to cover the baby with a blanket. Ryan said it was so hot that she didn't have a blanket. The waitress then repeated her request. Ryan said she then asked to see the manager and handed him a copy of the 2006 Kentucky law that prohibits interference with a woman breast-feeding her baby in public.The manager said he knew about the law but a customer had complained about indecent exposure, so she had to cover the baby with a blanket."

Now, many of you know about my love-hate relationship with breastfeeding. I do it because my babies are the most important people in the world to me, and breastmilk is the ideal, optimal food for them...but I don't claim to love it all the time. In fact, some days I downright hate it. There are times when it's nice to be rocking in my glider, feeding a baby, and amazed at how my body is able to perfectly nourish these two little beings. And there are other days, days when the babies seem constantly hungry, and I feel like I have parasites attached to me 24-7; and so I pull them off of me and announce, "You're weaned!" But inevitably, within 20 minutes I'm nursing one or the other again.

What I just do not understand is how some people are so offended by breastfeeding mothers. You are providing nourishment for a child, for Pete's sake. There's nothing indecent about that. ANY doctor will tell you how beneficial it is to breastfeed, and every bit of research proves it. But there is still this taboo about nursing in public that I just don't get, despite the fact that we live in a nation of fairly educated, informed people.

I had my first encounter with this taboo last weekend. Charlotte was exceptionally cranky, and we were out at a restaurant, in a private room, for a 30th birthday party. I went to the corner of the room, where there were maybe five people, and sat down to nurse Charlotte. I was discreet, and used my sling to cover up, but I got an incredibly nasty glance. No one said anything directly to me, but that was perhaps because Charlotte didn't want to nurse right then. If I had actually sat there and nursed her, there might have been a few comments. I'm not sure how I would have reacted, but I'd like to think I'd be both intelligent and poised.

I respect a mother's right NOT to breastfeed. I would expect nursing mothers to receive the same courtesy.

Random

There are certain phrases and questions that I have become accustomed to hearing whenever the twins and I are out in public. To wit:

"Double Trouble!"
"Boy, you have your hands full!"
"Do twins run in your family?"
"Are they identical?"

But yesterday, at the market, I heard two new ones. In the canned food aisle, an elderly lady smiled and asked, "Twins?" "Yes," I answered, waiting for the inevitable mention of their adorable-ness. "That's painful," she muttered, and walked away.

The second comment was from the teenage bagger at the checkout line. As he was packing away my produce, he inquired, "Are you making sure they are getting all of their vitamins and minerals?" Huh? Would someone ask this of a mother with only one child?

Wordless Wednesday - Hello, Solid Foods!

First Day of School, Minus One

Today is the first day of school in my district. It's the first time in 10 years that I haven't been there to greet a new class. I'm feeling a little melancholy. I'm grateful for the opportunity to be home with the babies for a year, but I sure do miss all the newness of the First Day of School. Freshly sharpened pencils, crisp clean handwriting paper, shiny waxed floors, first-day-of-school outfits, and the endless possibilities that lie ahead for the year...

Everyone likes to feel irreplacable. When I was little, I used to think that when I was home sick, that school just didn't happen that day. I thought because I wasn't there, no one else was there either. I kind of feel that way now, too. Like, how can there be a school year without me? I'm sure I'll get over it quickly, though, when I hear my colleagues talk about how much work they have to do, all the report card conferences and the planning curriculum to align with state standards. I sure won't miss that part of it.

Of Interest Only To Me

I weighed Charlotte and Gavin today on our bathroom scale. Charlotte weighs just under 15 pounds, and Gavin just over 15 pounds (which I can't believe -- he spits up so much it's hard to believe he gains weight at all!) It's a far cry from those 3 pound babies I delivered...

You-Know-Who

I really have to stop reading Harry Potter before bed.

Last night I barely slept because I fighting Voldemort and looking for Horcruxes in my sleep.

It spills over into my daytime, too. Because I am so engrossed in the book, and I'm usually exhausted to boot, I sometimes really believe that I am able to perform magic. For a brief moment yesterday, I actually thought I could conjure up a sandwich without getting off the couch by simply uttering, "Accio sandwich!" (It's a Summoning Charm, for all you Muggles out there.) If only it were that easy.

Big Words and Stuff

I'm an ailurophile. I tell you this for two reasons:

(1) It's a big word, and I don't know too many big words, so when I can use one, I do.

(2) I am wrestling with a moral dilemma.

I have three cats: Oliver, Porkchop, and Applesauce. We have had them for about 5 years, and seriously, my husband and I treat them like they are our children. Furry children. But ever since the babies came home, we have not been able to give them the attention to which they were formerly accustomed, as you can imagine.

While they used to occasionally use our rugs and couches as scratching posts, it was never a huge issue. Their fur (and their tendency to shed it all over my couches) was the biggest problem, but we managed to confine their need to sharpen their claws to scratching posts and mats. However, since the babies have arrived, the cats are completely annihilating our furniture. Our couches are shredded and they are pulling tufts of fabric out of our new, beautiful Oriental rug.

So now, I'm thinking about something that pre-baby I would have described as barbaric. Declawing.

Can anyone put my mind at ease about this? I obviously want to protect my possessions, but I don't want my cats to be in any permanent discomfort.

I should mention that they are completely indoor cats since we live by a busy road.

Bad Mommy

I cut Charlotte's finger with the nail clippers today. Man, fingers sure do bleed a lot. It wouldn't have been so bad if this wasn't the second time I've done this to Charlotte. Poor thing.

Early Intervention Update

The Early Intervention team came out to assess Charlotte and Gavin yesterday, at the suggestion of our pediatrician. They did a multidisciplinary evaluation for each baby that assessed areas of physical and verbal development. If either baby showed a 25% delay in any one area, they would qualify for services, and actually, I was kind of hoping they would qualify, just for the extra support.

Charlotte did not qualify. Since they based the assessment on their adjusted age (3 1/2 months) and not their chronological age (5 1/2 months), Charlotte behaved age appropriately. She coos, kicks, grabs with both hands, etc... just like a term 3-4 month old baby, which was good news!

Because he is hypertonic (has increased muscle tone), Gavin did qualify. A therapist will come out every other week to do some exercises and share some activities that I can do with him. I've blogged before about Gavin's rigidity, so I had a feeling this was coming. Everything else is right on target with Gavin, which is great news. Since he seems most tense after a feeding, the team suggested we take Gavin to a pediatric gastroenterologist to discuss his reflux. It seems the Zantac isn't helping as much as we had hoped, and he still appears uncomfortable. He rarely cries, however, because he is such a happy baby, so I think that can sometimes disguise how uncomfortable he really is.

Anyway, good news all around!

Wordless Wednesday (posted a bit early)

Shameless Self Promotion

As you can see by the banner across the top of my site, I am now a stallholder for Barefoot Books. Click on the banner to look at some of the beautifully illustrated multicultural books they offer. If you'd like to order anything, please email me your choices, and I will be glad to get them to you.

Happy Anniversary!

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Thank you for visiting me every single day when I was on hospital bedrest , even though I'm sure it was a pain in the butt for you to put your lives on hold just to come by and bring me a chocolate milkshake, rice pudding, or some lemonade.

Thank you for visiting the twins every day in the hospital. Clearly they were the rock stars of the NICU, as there was an endless stream of grandparents, aunts, and uncles around their isolettes almost 24-hours a day. Made me feel great, and believe me, when they are old enough to understand, they will thank you for it too.

And thank you especially for being my support system since I've been home with the babies. You've seen me through the post-partum, the days when they won't stop screaming, and everything in between, but it's the smaller stuff that matters most -- like when you just come over to hold them so Michael and I can eat dinner.

You've set quite an example as parents for Michael and me. We love you so much!

There's Something To It....

I'm posting this cautiously, with my fingers crossed, because I don't want to jinx myself....

Over the last few days I've developed a little "naptime routine." This decision was made after a hellish day when Charlotte and Gavin went on a napping strike, and were so exhausted and cranky by the end of the day that their eyes were practically swollen shut.

Several times now, I have put Charlotte down COMPLETELY AWAKE, and, lo and behold, the precious child has put herself to sleep without so much as a peep. Not every time, but enough. Gavin's not quite there yet, but I see the potential.

Perhaps we will avoid "crying it out?" I hope so.

The Hopeless Gourmet

So, I'm not much of a cook, but I'm trying. At the very least, I attempt to throw together something healthy (and somewhat edible). It's not easy, because I'm a vegetarian, and Michael is not. I'm quite sure he has had enough of my "chicken parm," "tacos" and "meatloaf" to last a lifetime.

It seems, however, that the babies enjoy screaming at the exact moment we try to sit down to eat, so we usually wind up trying to shovel the food in with one hand while holding a baby in the other. Indigestion, anyone?

As you can imagine, I have little time to cook gourmet meals. That's why I find these two microwaveable products well worth the money:

The Bird's Eye vegetables are great...they steam in the bag in 5-6 minutes, and they taste good. And the rice cooks in 90 seconds. I'm sure it's completely stripped of all its fiber and nutrients in order to cook so quickly, but hell, it's better than eating a sleeve of Oreos for dinner. (Yes, I've done it).

one for the record books

Apparently the universe doesn't like it when I brag about having good days. No, sir.

Today has been pure hell. The babies each received 5 vaccinations today; 4 in their thigh and 1 orally. They have been screaming bloody murder for the past several hours, and no amount of Tylenol has taken the edge off (for the babies or for me).

If one more child sucks on me, scratches at me, or spits-up on me, I think I'm going to jump the next bus out of town.

Oh yeah, and my pediatrician has decided that I need to stop giving Gavin the pacifier. Gavin, who screams if the pacifier leaves his mouth for more than 3 seconds. "He's smarter than you," she quipped. "He doesn't need it; he just knows if he cries you'll give it to him." Is she kidding?

Yay, Me!

Allow me to brag for just a moment. After a very long road, with too many twists and turns to mention here, I nursed the babies exclusively today. No supplementing with formula. No feeding them expressed milk. No bottles to wash.

Nothing expresses my joy better than this post from Stacie at The Twinkies. Metal, indeed.

I Heart Mom

It's official: Gavin is a Momma's Boy. Lately, and especially when he's cranky, he can only be consoled by me. This morning he woke up crying, and Michael tried to comfort him. Nothing was working, and the crying was escalating. "Is he hungry?" Michael asked. "He shouldn't be, " I replied. "He only ate an hour ago, and it was a lot." I reached for Gavin, laid him next to me in the bed, and cuddled him close. He let out a deep, happy sigh, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. I love that.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Anxiety runs in my family, to some degree. (Thanks, Nana G.) Fortunately, I am able to manage it pretty well during most daily activities (I think...my friends and family might argue otherwise). You'll see it running rampant in certain situations, though, like if I'm late for work or an appointment. I literally get hives. But for the most part, my anxiety level is usually low. Present, but low.

Except when I go to sleep.

When I sleep, all bets are off. My anxiety is completely unbridled and manifests itself in my dreams. Honestly, I must have 8-10 dreams a night, which I think is why I never feel completely rested. Ever. I have three anxiety-driven recurring dreams, and let me tell you, they are beauties. I wake up in a cold sweat every time.

The first is always some variation of the following scenario: I'm in high school or college and I have to get to class. Only I can't remember what class it is. It's the middle of the semester; surely I've been to this class before...but I have no recollection of the location of the room or the identity of the professor. I wind up wandering all around campus, searching for a schedule of my courses, and never make it to class.

The second is simple: My teeth fall out. I dream this one at least every other week, and always wake up frantically rubbing my finger along my gums to see if I still have teeth. Sometimes I lose one at time, sometimes they all fall out at once.

The third is that I need to get somewhere, usually work, but I'm hopelessly lost and can't get to where I need to be. I try to call someone for directions, but I keep misdialing the number. I'll almost have the number dialed until I get to the last digit, and then I hit the wrong button and have to start all over.

The other night I had all three dreams in a row. Didn't get much sleep that night.

I wonder what all of this means? Especially considering that, despite the fact that I have 4- month-old twins and other mundane stuff, my life is relatively stress-free at the moment? I think Freud would have a field day with me....

Beach Babies

Our first trip to the beach was a success! The babies slept so well that week; I swear, there is something about that salt air. They only woke once during the night to eat. I felt like a new woman! Of course, now that we're home again, their old sleeping habits have returned.

As for me, I'm still ghostly pale. Our pediatrician recommended keeping them off of the beach, and it was so bleeping hot that I couldn't even really take them for walks. I got down to the beach once, for about two hours. It was wonderful. I actually got to read a book!

Taking the twins on the boardwalk was insane. People literally stood in front of the stroller, causing me to come to a complete halt, to stare at them. It was unreal. We saw a woman with triplets on the boardwalk. I smiled and said, "Wow. When I have a bad day, I think to myself, "Someone out there is doing this with THREE!" She reminded me, "When I am having a bad day, I think to myself, "Someone out there is doing this, and their kids aren't healthy." That made me feel like a big sh*t, but it certainly made me count my blessings and be thankful that Charlotte and Gavin are doing so well. It's all about perspective.

I'm Still Here!

I swear, I haven't forgotten about you all. But the babies have recently decided that they no longer want to sleep during the day, and ESPECIALLY not at the same time, so I have had little time to do much of anything (she types, as she sits in her pajamas with unbrushed teeth).

We are going away next week, but hopefully the time away will give me lots to blog about.

The Grass is Always Greener

Before I had children, I had a few acquaintances who would frequently use a variation of the following phrase in conversations with me: You'll understand when you have children. For example:

Oh, you're in a book club? The only thing I read these days are children's books. You'll understand when you have children.

You and your husband are going away for the weekend? Must be nice. You'll understand when you have children.

Your house is decorated beautifully. You can kiss that goodbye when you have children.

You're having another glass of wine? I'd have another glass if I didn't have to go home and take care of my children.

You're taking more graduate courses? If I didn't have children, I could do that, too.

You get the idea.

The comments were always innocent enough, and I don't believe they were intended to hurt my feelings in any way. It was more of a Mother's Lament, a longing for the way things once were, a desire for the freedom of days past...and believe me, I can relate. Most of these people didn't know about my struggles with infertility, so had no idea how much these comments stung. I vowed that I would never, ever, say this to anyone, no matter how wistful I became for my child-free days.

I think it's incredibly important that your children don't become the sole definition of who you are. It's likely that this was the issue with the acquaintances to whom I'm referring; that they were no longer willing or able to partake in some of the activities they once enjoyed. I am a Mother, yes, and perhaps most importantly. But I am so many other things, too. And I can't let those other things get buried under my day-to-day motherly duties just because I have children now.

To date, I don't believe I have uttered that phrase, or any variation of it, to anyone. Largely because I am still a member of said Book Club (even though I haven't read the last few books), and I still collect and display antiques that I love, and I am three courses shy of my second Master's Degree (bedrest got in the way of the final three courses, but I will be taking them in the Spring with any luck!). The weekend get-away has yet to be realized, but I hope it's not far off. And if I want another glass of wine, darn it, I deserve it.

Patriotic Babies

Eight Things About Me

Bub and Pie tagged me for my first meme, and in fact was the person who explained what a meme was. I'm thankful for something to write about, because I've been having difficulty lately coming up with posts. I don't know if it's a lack of sleep or just a lack of originality, but I'm having some severe writer's block of late.

Anyway, here are the rules of the Eight Things About Me meme:
A. Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.

B. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.

C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

Enjoy!

1. I am a seafood-eating vegetarian, and have been for almost 5 years now. People always ask me what prompted me to become a vegetarian, and the short answer is: I'm not sure. I love animals, yes, but I think the choice had more to do with the fact that meat just wasn't agreeing with me like it used to. (Geez, that makes me sound like I'm a senior citizen.) I don't think I'll raise Charlotte and Gavin to be vegetarians, but I will certainly make them aware of my choice.

Lately, though, hot dogs are looking pretty good to me. We'll see where this goes.

2. For two years I danced on a national television show called Dance Party USA. Yes, I have the fan mail to prove it.

3. I have a weird sixth-sense about some things. I'm not claiming that I can predict the future or anything, but sometimes I just intuitively know things. I once guessed what was in a friend's bank account to the penny. I think this ability also makes me an excellent judge of character, usually.

4. I love to garden, but I will immediately kill every house or potted plant I get. I forget to water them. Poor things, they don't stand a chance.

5. The famous Revolutionary War heroine, Molly Pitcher, is somehow related to me. I think she's my sixth-great grandmother.

6. My sisters are twins, and my mom was a member of the local Twin Club when they were born. I contacted the same Twin Club (now called Mothers of Multiples) when I found out I was having twins, and it turns out that I am their first Legacy Member.

7. I have way too many Vera Bradley bags.

8. I don't get Mary J. Blige. I know she's won all these Grammy's, but I just don't see the appeal. Am I the only one?

I do, however, totally get Prince. I love him.


Unfortunately, I don't know many people in the blogosphere, and if I do know them, they don't know me! Here's who I'm tagging:

Amy T.
Emmie
Stacie
Snickollet

Why I'm Still Nursing...

Charlotte, on the day she was born.
Charlotte at four months old (check out the double chin!)

Gavin a few days after birth (to give you an idea of how small he was...the "towel" under his neck is a washcloth!!!)
Gavin and Daddy, four months later...

Details, Details

I have a horrible memory, especially when it comes to my childhood. I know I had a wonderful, happy upbringing, but sometimes I can only grasp the fuzzy edges of a family vacation or a funny moment from my past. My sisters will say, "Remember the time when we...", and sometimes I only have a vague recollection of the event. It's as if I wasn't really there, as if I only witnessed the event as an onlooker instead of being an active participant. I think it's because I'm often not fully present in the moment; I always seem to have something else on my mind. I can't imagine what that "something else" was when I was little (Did I get my homework done? Does so-and-so like me?), but I know that it can still be an issue with me now.

The vivid memories that I do have must really have made an impact on me, for one reason or another. I can clearly remember the first time I was scolded in school. It was 5th grade, and we were cleaning the classroom at the end of the school year. My job was to straighten the library books. I wasn't quite sure what was expected of me, and I needed some clarification, so I called out for my teacher. "Mrs. Green?" No answer. "Mrs. Green? Mrs. Green?" Now, my teacher must have been pretty frazzled, and I'm sure she had a ton of report cards to finish, because she snapped. "I HEARD YOU, AMY! NOW WAIT UNTIL I'M READY TO ANSWER!" It took all the strength I could muster not to cry, and I don't think I was ever yelled at in school again after that.

The things that I remember most clearly are the events that conjured up an extreme emotion. The incident with Mrs. Green made me feel extremely ashamed. I have other memories of times that I was extremely happy, or extremely sad, or extremely nervous, or extremely embarrassed, etc... It's those smaller moments, the ones that didn't have quite the impact or importance, that aren't as forthcoming. It makes me sad, because although life has its fair share of bigger moments, I think it's the smaller ones that really define who you are. It's the smaller moments I want to remember most: picking blackberries with my grandmother at her cabin, climbing into my parents bed with my sisters when there was a thunderstorm.

There is so much I want to remember about Charlotte and Gavin at this age, but none of the things are momentous. The way Gavin presses his face against mine when I hold him over my shoulder, the noises he makes when he has to burp, how he curls his toes when I am feeding him. I want to remember how Charlotte squeaks when she is trying to wake up, how she turns her head up and to the left when she is sleeping, and how she lets her leg hang over the tub when I'm giving her a bath. I'm trying to be fully present with them, so I don't miss a moment. So when they are older and say, "Tell me about when I was little," I'll be able to describe some little detail about who they were, and why it meant so much to me.

That's one way to do it...

Gavin slept from 11:00 pm until 4:45am last night. Unbelievable. The longest stretch of sleep I've had yet.

Granted, he did not nap at all yesterday, so he was most likely exhausted. I took the twins to visit my third graders yesterday. That was somewhat of a mistake on my part. As soon as my monstrous double-stroller rounded the corner, I had 38 grubby little hands reaching for the babies.

"They're so PUNY!"

"Which one's the girl?" (Um, the one with the barrette...)

"They look funny!"

"Do they have teeth yet?"

"Are you coming back to teach next year?"

The teacher in me soon took over. "Everyone take a giant step back!!!" I shouted. "I can answer your questions one at a time!" I could feel myself becoming warm and overwhelmed. The neonatal doctors warned us about taking the babies into crowds. It certainly doesn't get any more germ-y than a bunch of third graders. Believe me, I've taught third grade for six years...I've seen more fingers up noses than I care to mention.

Long story short, there was no way the babies were going to nap through all that commotion. And I've found that sleep begets sleep. If they don't take their nap early in the day, they fight sleep for the rest of the day and become intolerable in the evening hours. It took some doing, but I finally got both babies down by 11:00 pm.

The other reason I think he slept so well is because he was on the couch right next to me, resting in the crook of my arm. So even though Gavin slept soundly, I did not, as my elbow was bent at a 90 degree angle the entire time trying to keep him comfortable. My intention was only to stay on the couch until he fell asleep, and then move him upstairs to his crib...but since he never sleeps that soundly, I stayed put.

In either case, I doubt he (or I) will sleep for that length for quite a while, but it's made me reconsider this whole co-sleeping thing, at least for Gavin. Maybe I'll stick him in bed with me tonight and see what happens.

Thank you for all the comments about my friend Dr. Sears and his attachment parenting philosophy. It made me feel much better about my choices!