I know everyone with boys is jealous now! I also challenge anyone who says they "always know" to tell me which baby is which. Just try :)
Friday, February 29, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
update
We went to visit my grandfather yesterday. He has made a somewhat miraculous recovery and they are talking about sending him directly home, not even to a step-down rehab center. We are not really sure what happened. Even the doctors are shocked. I'll just say thanks again.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Can't sleep
sleep is never a problem for me. I can sleep anywhere. When H and I first met he played on a dart league and I used to go and sleep in a booth in the bars while they played. I've slept through babies screaming and through major construction.
Tonight I can't sleep.
My grandfather is dying. Not in the "we're all going to die; he's 90, etc" sense, but in the very real sense of dying. Minute by minute. His kidneys are no longer functioning, his heart is failing and he's had at least one stroke. Second by second his life is ending. I can't sleep through it.
My grandfather is a patriarch in the true sense of the word. If it weren't for him, my entire extended family would have parted ways long ago. He had four children and four wives. I'm not sure who caused more trouble. His investments helped me buy my house and take 6 months off with my babies. He paid for my room and board my first year at college to make sure I went away to school. He bought me my first car. and my second. He bought me my first diamond earrings and ring. He never missed my birthday, although sometimes he'd remember in October. He had a fantastic garden and grew the biggest squash in westchester county. He would always stop for a hotdog and as late as last year bought me ice cream cones whenever I drove him to the doctor. He basically built my mother's house and just a few years ago, she came home to find him underneath her kitchen sink, fixing the drain. He was 86 and was tightening the pipes by hand. That year he also built her a pool deck.
He told great stories about his younger days. Most of them involved him getting arrested or beating someone up. A few months ago he lamented to H that he could no longer make a good fist, so how on earth was he going to punch anyone. We didn't mess with him. He once pulled the phone out of the wall while my mother was on it. She was a teenager and she talked too much. She still does. He kept us all in line. One year at Christmas my aunt complained that she should get a larger gift since she was the oldest. My mother threw a fit and didn't speak to her sister the entire year. The next Christmas, he gave everyone their gifts and told my aunt hers was more since she was the oldest. She got an extra dollar.
He taught us all how to behave and how to be respectful. You didn't enter without personally greeting him or leave without saying goodbye. He danced at my wedding and complained that I couldn't keep up. He stuck around to see the babies. Actually, we blame him for them being twins. When we told the family last Christmas that I was pregnant, he said, "Good, it should be twins. It's time for more twins in this family". I told him that was a terrible thing to wish on someone. Three weeks later, I had an ultrasound with an extra baby. He thought it was very funny. When the babies were born and they were in the NICU, he made my mother drive him the hour to see them. When they got to the hospital, she offered him a wheelchair since the NICU was in the back of the building and not an easy walk. He made it in on his own two feet and held both babies for almost an hour. We gave him a picture of him holding the two tiny bundles and it's sitting on the table next to his recliner where he spends most of his time these days. He told my aunt that they keep him awake at night; he can hear them crying. So for Christmas this year I gave him a picture of them laughing. It's sitting right next to the first one.
When he dies, there will be a lot of blame being passed around and I'm sure my mother and her siblings will come to blows about who should have done what to help him. But I know he lived a hard life and he's tired. He's been too tired to fight for a year or so now. I don't want him to go. I feel like there are so many things that I want to ask about his life. Stories that no one else will know now. He was the youngest of 10 children. His father came from Italy and carried an anvil in his arms up the train out of the city to start the iron works. His mother was the sister of his father's first wife and she came over to raise her sister's children when she was ill. She married her brother-in-law and had a baby 6 months after her sister's last child. No one talked about it. There was a set of fraternal twins, but I don't know which sister's children they were and I don't remember if they were girls or boys. I wish I could go to the hospital tomorrow with a notebook and write everything down. But it's too late. And I feel guilty that I haven't seen him since Christmas. I feel that I should have done more. Mostly I feel like I ran out of time. There couldn't be enough time to thank him for everything he's done for me. If it weren't for him, I might not have gone to college, I wouldn't have bought this house and I most likely wouldn't have had twins. If I tried to thank him, he'd just shrug it off anyway. As far as he's concerned, that's what you do for your family.
So in honor of my grandfather and his last few days here with us, here are some photos of the man who taught me what family was:
Thank you.
Tonight I can't sleep.
My grandfather is dying. Not in the "we're all going to die; he's 90, etc" sense, but in the very real sense of dying. Minute by minute. His kidneys are no longer functioning, his heart is failing and he's had at least one stroke. Second by second his life is ending. I can't sleep through it.
My grandfather is a patriarch in the true sense of the word. If it weren't for him, my entire extended family would have parted ways long ago. He had four children and four wives. I'm not sure who caused more trouble. His investments helped me buy my house and take 6 months off with my babies. He paid for my room and board my first year at college to make sure I went away to school. He bought me my first car. and my second. He bought me my first diamond earrings and ring. He never missed my birthday, although sometimes he'd remember in October. He had a fantastic garden and grew the biggest squash in westchester county. He would always stop for a hotdog and as late as last year bought me ice cream cones whenever I drove him to the doctor. He basically built my mother's house and just a few years ago, she came home to find him underneath her kitchen sink, fixing the drain. He was 86 and was tightening the pipes by hand. That year he also built her a pool deck.
He told great stories about his younger days. Most of them involved him getting arrested or beating someone up. A few months ago he lamented to H that he could no longer make a good fist, so how on earth was he going to punch anyone. We didn't mess with him. He once pulled the phone out of the wall while my mother was on it. She was a teenager and she talked too much. She still does. He kept us all in line. One year at Christmas my aunt complained that she should get a larger gift since she was the oldest. My mother threw a fit and didn't speak to her sister the entire year. The next Christmas, he gave everyone their gifts and told my aunt hers was more since she was the oldest. She got an extra dollar.
He taught us all how to behave and how to be respectful. You didn't enter without personally greeting him or leave without saying goodbye. He danced at my wedding and complained that I couldn't keep up. He stuck around to see the babies. Actually, we blame him for them being twins. When we told the family last Christmas that I was pregnant, he said, "Good, it should be twins. It's time for more twins in this family". I told him that was a terrible thing to wish on someone. Three weeks later, I had an ultrasound with an extra baby. He thought it was very funny. When the babies were born and they were in the NICU, he made my mother drive him the hour to see them. When they got to the hospital, she offered him a wheelchair since the NICU was in the back of the building and not an easy walk. He made it in on his own two feet and held both babies for almost an hour. We gave him a picture of him holding the two tiny bundles and it's sitting on the table next to his recliner where he spends most of his time these days. He told my aunt that they keep him awake at night; he can hear them crying. So for Christmas this year I gave him a picture of them laughing. It's sitting right next to the first one.
When he dies, there will be a lot of blame being passed around and I'm sure my mother and her siblings will come to blows about who should have done what to help him. But I know he lived a hard life and he's tired. He's been too tired to fight for a year or so now. I don't want him to go. I feel like there are so many things that I want to ask about his life. Stories that no one else will know now. He was the youngest of 10 children. His father came from Italy and carried an anvil in his arms up the train out of the city to start the iron works. His mother was the sister of his father's first wife and she came over to raise her sister's children when she was ill. She married her brother-in-law and had a baby 6 months after her sister's last child. No one talked about it. There was a set of fraternal twins, but I don't know which sister's children they were and I don't remember if they were girls or boys. I wish I could go to the hospital tomorrow with a notebook and write everything down. But it's too late. And I feel guilty that I haven't seen him since Christmas. I feel that I should have done more. Mostly I feel like I ran out of time. There couldn't be enough time to thank him for everything he's done for me. If it weren't for him, I might not have gone to college, I wouldn't have bought this house and I most likely wouldn't have had twins. If I tried to thank him, he'd just shrug it off anyway. As far as he's concerned, that's what you do for your family.
So in honor of my grandfather and his last few days here with us, here are some photos of the man who taught me what family was:
Thank you.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Happy 8 Months to C & Z and a happy 2 months to JT (as he is affectionately known at our house).
So far 8 months is fun. However, I have noticed that it is creeping up on my 1 year anniversary of not working. (No, I’m not counting my 2 day a week gig as a real job. I have almost no responsibility and I don’t have to go there everyday). Upon this discovery, I’ve also realized that I’ve hit a new low in SAHM-dom.
I am DVR-ing Oprah.
This leads me to the next more important reason for this post:
The BonTon Pact of 1997
Wherein Susan and I vowed to immediately end the life of the other were she ever to be seen wearing a plus sized sweatshirt with animals or flowers appliquéd to it.
I wish to make a few additions to this pact. I should just call S on the phone since she’s really the only one responsible for putting me (and anyone who can see me) out of my misery, but I am preserving the sanctity of nap time.
1. Should either of us ever call Oprah to give us a makeover…
2. Should I ever require Oprah to give me a makeover…
3. Should I been seen wearing maternity clothes after my children can walk and speak…
…Immediate end of life should ensue.
There, I feel better. It’s hard being this frumpy for this long. I gave myself a year to focus on the babies and not worry about what I look like, but god almighty, I’m starting to scare myself. That said, I will now make another vow, right here on the internet that you can all hold me to:
By my 31st birthday I will go through my entire closet and eliminate every article of clothing that does not fit and flatter whatever shape I happen to be at that time.
This may not seem like such a big deal if you never seen my closet. If you have, or if you have been unlucky enough to try to go through it with me (poor f.fanny may never recover) you understand what an undertaking this would be. It WILL happen. I WILL, by next fall, be less hideous than I am now. It may also involve a haircut. I know, but drastic times…
So far 8 months is fun. However, I have noticed that it is creeping up on my 1 year anniversary of not working. (No, I’m not counting my 2 day a week gig as a real job. I have almost no responsibility and I don’t have to go there everyday). Upon this discovery, I’ve also realized that I’ve hit a new low in SAHM-dom.
I am DVR-ing Oprah.
This leads me to the next more important reason for this post:
The BonTon Pact of 1997
Wherein Susan and I vowed to immediately end the life of the other were she ever to be seen wearing a plus sized sweatshirt with animals or flowers appliquéd to it.
I wish to make a few additions to this pact. I should just call S on the phone since she’s really the only one responsible for putting me (and anyone who can see me) out of my misery, but I am preserving the sanctity of nap time.
1. Should either of us ever call Oprah to give us a makeover…
2. Should I ever require Oprah to give me a makeover…
3. Should I been seen wearing maternity clothes after my children can walk and speak…
…Immediate end of life should ensue.
There, I feel better. It’s hard being this frumpy for this long. I gave myself a year to focus on the babies and not worry about what I look like, but god almighty, I’m starting to scare myself. That said, I will now make another vow, right here on the internet that you can all hold me to:
By my 31st birthday I will go through my entire closet and eliminate every article of clothing that does not fit and flatter whatever shape I happen to be at that time.
This may not seem like such a big deal if you never seen my closet. If you have, or if you have been unlucky enough to try to go through it with me (poor f.fanny may never recover) you understand what an undertaking this would be. It WILL happen. I WILL, by next fall, be less hideous than I am now. It may also involve a haircut. I know, but drastic times…
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Sippy Success!
Both girls drank an ounce or so out of sippy cups. I had to help them hold the cups up to their mouths at the right angles, but they drank... water! can you believe it? I barely can.
I have to work tomorrow and H will be home with the baby girls. Good luck to him, I hope it's not too ugly. But now I'm going to sleep. The girls have reverted back to getting up twice a night to nurse. ugh. so tired.
I have to work tomorrow and H will be home with the baby girls. Good luck to him, I hope it's not too ugly. But now I'm going to sleep. The girls have reverted back to getting up twice a night to nurse. ugh. so tired.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Food Fights Revisted
So after much advice both here and from my twinny group, here's the gastronomic update:
Z ate both her breakfast and dinner today. For breakfast we had bananas and apples with a tiny bit of oatmeal mixed in to make it a little thicker. For dinner it was squash and avocado mixed with 1/4c of oatmeal made with formula, but it was pretty lumpy.
So perhaps it's just that she wanted something with a little bulk to it and I've been making everything super smooth.
Also, just in case you cared, they both had gigantic poops today. Poops that could have been made by a much larger child. I'm not sure where all the poop came from. I was a little scared.
I made a batch of bananas and carrots today to feed them for the next week or so. C loves the hand blender so I usually let her chill in the kitchen in a seat while I do it. She's a wierdo
Z ate both her breakfast and dinner today. For breakfast we had bananas and apples with a tiny bit of oatmeal mixed in to make it a little thicker. For dinner it was squash and avocado mixed with 1/4c of oatmeal made with formula, but it was pretty lumpy.
So perhaps it's just that she wanted something with a little bulk to it and I've been making everything super smooth.
Also, just in case you cared, they both had gigantic poops today. Poops that could have been made by a much larger child. I'm not sure where all the poop came from. I was a little scared.
I made a batch of bananas and carrots today to feed them for the next week or so. C loves the hand blender so I usually let her chill in the kitchen in a seat while I do it. She's a wierdo
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Petey Parker Spider Cat
In case you were wondering what Petey has been up to lately:
There's napping:
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Recycling:
Guarding boxes:
And baking biscuits:
As you can see, being Petey is extremely time consuming and would explain why he is currenlty retiring up to his room (also known as the nursery. since no babies sleep up there, Petey has claimed it for his own) for a few hours of napping. But don't worry, he'll be bright eyed and bushy tailed just in time for eyebrow licking while babies try to nurse in the middle of the night.The Great Digestion Debate
We've been doing solid food for a while now and I have some questions. I posed them to the twin club, but I thought I'd get some sage advice here as well.
C will eat most anything, but Z is a bit more discerning re: texture, temperature, color of spoon, etc. They eat two "meals" and I'm wondering what exactly I'm supposed to be feeding them. For "breakfast" they have fruit and sometimes yogurt (well, no yogurt for z. if it's not hot she's not opening her lips. one. bit) and for "dinner" they have two vegis and oatmeal (since neither will eat rice cereal). Is this normal? Should I be giving them cereal twice a day? It tends to bind them up and we had a fun night of screaming while not pooping on Monday that I'd like to never repeat. (You really don't know fun until you've physically removed poop from your baby's butt because she can't do it herself. Ask H. )
They seem to be otherwise happy and still nursing ~5-6 times a day. In other related weirdness, they will only eat cereal if it's mixed with formula and not just any formula, but the premie formula. I tried switching them to plain old similac and no one was having that. Z went on a bottle strike while I was at work and forget eating food mixed with new formula.
Oh and no one will drink from a sippy cup. The sight of the sippy cup makes Z cry and C uses hers as a teething toy. When I put them in their mouths to show them that there's liquid inside, they gag and look at me like I've offended them. I've tried putting plain water, sugar water, formula and breast milk in the sippy cups. Same looks of insanity. What should I do about this? Any thoughts? C knows exactly what to do with the cup; she grabs both handles and stuffs the spout into her mouth, but doesn't want to suck on it. Only chew it. Z wants it to go away and tosses it off the highchair tray. repeatedly. Will they ever learn to drink from a cup? Or will I be sending Z to school with a paper mache boobie in her Dora the Explorer lunch box?
*beware of picture below as it contains graphic images of obvious child neglect. Wherein I put my twins in walkers so that I can get the bathtub ready for them without listening to screams from the other room. I know, what a horrid parent I am.*
This was the other night while I was getting the bath together. Z scooted herself backwards until she could reach out and grab C's hand. They did this repeatedly and are totally fascinated with each others faces and hands now. Today I had Z in my lap and C was in her bouncy and they kept touching hands and cracking up. It's really freakin' cute.
* C is on the left and, yes, that is a phone book under her feet since the height doesn't adjust any lower and she is just a touch too short. thankfully, neither has really figured out how to move the walkers around too much. I fear the day of mobility*
C will eat most anything, but Z is a bit more discerning re: texture, temperature, color of spoon, etc. They eat two "meals" and I'm wondering what exactly I'm supposed to be feeding them. For "breakfast" they have fruit and sometimes yogurt (well, no yogurt for z. if it's not hot she's not opening her lips. one. bit) and for "dinner" they have two vegis and oatmeal (since neither will eat rice cereal). Is this normal? Should I be giving them cereal twice a day? It tends to bind them up and we had a fun night of screaming while not pooping on Monday that I'd like to never repeat. (You really don't know fun until you've physically removed poop from your baby's butt because she can't do it herself. Ask H. )
They seem to be otherwise happy and still nursing ~5-6 times a day. In other related weirdness, they will only eat cereal if it's mixed with formula and not just any formula, but the premie formula. I tried switching them to plain old similac and no one was having that. Z went on a bottle strike while I was at work and forget eating food mixed with new formula.
Oh and no one will drink from a sippy cup. The sight of the sippy cup makes Z cry and C uses hers as a teething toy. When I put them in their mouths to show them that there's liquid inside, they gag and look at me like I've offended them. I've tried putting plain water, sugar water, formula and breast milk in the sippy cups. Same looks of insanity. What should I do about this? Any thoughts? C knows exactly what to do with the cup; she grabs both handles and stuffs the spout into her mouth, but doesn't want to suck on it. Only chew it. Z wants it to go away and tosses it off the highchair tray. repeatedly. Will they ever learn to drink from a cup? Or will I be sending Z to school with a paper mache boobie in her Dora the Explorer lunch box?
*beware of picture below as it contains graphic images of obvious child neglect. Wherein I put my twins in walkers so that I can get the bathtub ready for them without listening to screams from the other room. I know, what a horrid parent I am.*
This was the other night while I was getting the bath together. Z scooted herself backwards until she could reach out and grab C's hand. They did this repeatedly and are totally fascinated with each others faces and hands now. Today I had Z in my lap and C was in her bouncy and they kept touching hands and cracking up. It's really freakin' cute.
* C is on the left and, yes, that is a phone book under her feet since the height doesn't adjust any lower and she is just a touch too short. thankfully, neither has really figured out how to move the walkers around too much. I fear the day of mobility*Monday, February 04, 2008
Who's right?
Extra Points to anyone who know's who's who and if they are telling the truth with their T-shirts.
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