Headed to the Farm

or at least the market.  This morning is the last week that the farmers market will be outdoor.  I have to go today to find out the new secret winter location.  it's very cloak and dagger vegetable buying.  I should wear a trenchcoat and a silly hat.

I am also on the hunt for a heritage turkey.  Why is this so hard to find in the middle of farm country here?  And the cost.  Oh lord, $10/lb is a lot for a bird.  Considering Shoprite is giving the bastards away.  I ordered one last year and had it delivered to the grocery store, but I had to schlepp across the river.  And now I can't remember what farm I got it from.  Ugh.

It may have just dawned on me that Thanksgiving is a week from today.  I got off easy this year with only pies and sweet potatoes to make.  and a turkey to procure.  Which is going so well.

maybe I can get a lead at the farmer's market.  wonder if my detective disguise will be helpful in that arena. I'm not sure they remember who I am since I am sans children on Thursday mornings now.  Not that I'm complaining.

Now I have to go and wake them up.  Well, wake Z up.  C has been trying to do the same thing for the past 20 min and it doesn't sound too successful.  I so love the moaning and protesting that comes from sleepy 3 yo.

Awesome evening... and then the screaming

Here's an evening that exemplifies the age of 3.  and the problems of having two children who are the same age.

Yesterday after naptime (which is our typically worst time of day... they are still tired and want nothing more than to lump on the sofa and gorge themselves on Spectacular Spiderman on Netflix) I took the playdough out and got them started making people and animals and food out of playdough.

Then I started dinner while they played in the kitchen.  Z helped me make 'sushi' rolls with white rice and julienned vegis.  C continued to play with the dough and allowed Z to make her a roll.  Then we sat at the table and ate sushi and drank tea out of the fancy china teacups and had an awesome dinner.

After dinner, while I did the dishes, the girls played an insane game where they took turns being a snake on the floor and their sister's job was to sit on their back and keep them from slithering.  Whatever, no one got hurt and they laughed hysterically.  And I got to clean up the kitchen.

Finally I set up the record player and had them listen to a recorded read-a-long book (yes they were mine and no, I never throw anything out) while they had a glass of milk and a cookie for desert.  And that's where the utopia ended.

C is OBSESSED with the change she keeps in her little change purse.  I tell her 50-teen (her words) times a day to put the money back in her purse.  That it is not a toy and she can't play with money all around the house.  I'm trying to impress upon her that it has some sort of value.  and she understands that she can use the money to buy something at the store.  But she just. doesn't. listen. at. all.  She's one of those kids who just humors you and lives in her own little world where she is queen and you are an annoying noise to be tolerated temporarily until you give in and go away.  And I am the biggest culprit of this.  I am the High Holy Mother of Empty Threats.  I came back into the room after filling up the bathtub and she had change all over the couch and floor.  So I took it and put it someplace she couldn't reach it.  I explained she could have it back tomorrow, but that she didn't listen to what I had already asked her many many times to do.

And she screamed for over an hour.  Solid.  through bathtime (she wouldn't get in the tub and I had to wrestle her on the bathroom floor to wash her up) through putting pjs on.  Through book reading. And into singing with the lights off. 

Z on the other hand, listened to the end of her record, turned the player off. came up the stairs with her blankie, got in the tub, washed her hair, brushed her teeth, peed on the potty, put on her pjs and sat in bed listening to stories and songs.  The only time she got upset was when C tried to climb over the baby gate at the top of the stairs and Z was afraid (as was I) that she would topple over it and fall down the stairs head first.

So in an effort to be fair to Z, I basically had to ignore C's freakout.  Which is not the best way to handle it for her.  C isn't the kind of kid who will wind down on her own.  She needs to be physically restrained and almost shaken out of it.  Like in the old movies where you slap the woman out of her hysterics.  But the choices are ignore it and let it escalate and continue for longer than it needs to go on, or ignore the kid who's being good and basically punish her for her sister's freakout.

Aren't these awesome choices?  Last night I picked Z.  Most of the time I don't.  She was owed a night.  And up until around 6:45 we had an awesome day.  In retrospect, it's probably the chocolate milk and cookie that's setting C off at night.  I'll have to ponder a way around that part of the evening routine...

No Rest for the Weary: Why I don't have 3 children

too tired for sentences. here are fragments and bullets:

H threw back out last weekend re-doing master bathroom

bathroom has many many holes in the wall

also when you turn the tub on the shower head sprays you in the face. always

the overflow from this tub may or may not drip into my basement. at some point. much like the ticking time bomb of a toilet we had upstairs, however, this time I am not expecting poop to flood my dining room. so, small improvement there.

when you do shower, the hot water runs out in under 10min.

both my girls have head colds and copious snot and coughing

i sent them to school anyway. i'm that bitch

H has been in bed since monday. he only arises to whip children into a frenzy with spiderman game for the Wii. which C rocks at. don't worry, it's only rated T. Z does NOT like the fire

Sam the furry fucknut decided the best way to get my attention at 5am is wake Z up by banging on their bedroom door.

She then noticed she had peed her diaper. like she's done everynight for the past 3 and 1/2 years

This required a trip to the potty so she could swing her feet and have Sam apologize for waking her by biting my leg

and then a new diaper

without waking C

10min after i got back in my own bed, Sam the bastardly began to cry at the basement door
apparently he is incapable of using the kitty door before sunrise and also had to pee on the potty

after falling back asleep I had charming nightmare of losing my children in an amusement park because I had too many bags to gather when exiting the tram

coffee pot went off. followed by alarm. which H turned off. not snooze. just off.

if he doesn't go to work on monday i will be seeking legal representation.

now i must go and finish my chores and daily to do list so that I can wake the children, dress them, feed them, leave a note for the sitter... who is still coming even though H is here and wait for the conversation with my mother about what is wrong with my life when she shows up here at 3 to relieve the sitter and finds H in a cocoon of apple hardware ensconced in the bedroom.

all of this makes me ponder why i didn't just have them remove my uterus. instead of my brain.

Bed Time Blues

I have decided to stop fighting with my kids about bedtime. I've been Sisyphus for far too long here trying to get my kids in bed by 7:30. For anyone who doesn't have children, this seems to be a no-brainer. Right? I mean, who fights with a 3-year old, let alone 2 of them. Just tell them to go to bed! Everyone who has kids has already sighed and poured a drink.

Here's what bedtime looks like for the un-initiated:

6:00pm: children run amok while I try to clean off the table and wrangle leftovers. When I say 'run amok' don't for a minute think I'm exaggerating. I may be prone to hyperbole (what?! I know. me! of all people. stretching the truth for entertainment) but Z actually does "running exercises" after dinner. If C won't join her in her mad dash from the front door, through the dining room, around the kitchen island and back, she just steals "stinky pink" blanket and C is forced to chase behind her crying and screaming for justice.

6:30pm: I inform children it's getting close to bath time and to please start picking up their toys. This causes immediate deafness and the inability to walk or put any toys away. Ever. When I threaten to throw away toys that have been strewn around the floor, I am cursed in secret twin language of 'Diggi'. Don't worry, even if you can't speak Diggi, you know when you've been told off. Much like Italian, there are hand gestures.

7:00pm: The Poseidon Adventure begins. Some of you may call this bath time. Make no mistake, people in the first three rows WILL be getting wet. and not just an errant splash or two. Sometimes whole buckets of water slosh over the side of the tub onto the "bather" I try to save this particular joy for when H is home or grandma's here, but it's summer and we're extra stinky when it's hot out.

7:30pm: Attempt to wrangle wet children out of the tub and into pajamas. Again with the immediate deafness and inability to walk or control any of your limbs. Also, there is the torturing of the cat to be done. No evening is complete without having to pry a retaliating furry blender off of someone's naked back, while someone else is kicking you in the chest to avoid the evil that is pajama pants.

8:00pm: (have you noticed that it's 2 hours since we started?) serve snack of warm (not too hot, not too cold, just right...) chocolate milk and graham crackers. sometimes this also involves a 'story' typically the three little pigs or bears or occasionally Rapunzel but with alternate endings that Daddy made up. Some of which I don't know.

8:15pm: Cajole, beg and finally scream at short people to get up the stairs. This is made more difficult by the aforementioned leg disorder. Then you start again by trying to herd them into the upstairs bathroom to brush the graham cracker crumbs out of their teeth. Eventually you grab them by the forehead and much like the old "flip-top head" toothbrush ads, manage to scrape most of the cookie off.

8:30pm: Finally fling children into beds. Sit on the floor in between two toddler beds and read two stories (as we cannot agree on ONE story, we must each pick our own) frequently stop reading to tell people to get back in bed, move their heads from in front of the book, or answer any myraid of questions about the illustrations.

8:45pm: Turn off light, turn on star-turtle, turn on sound machine and sit on one bed to sing a song. then sit on other child's bed to sing HER song. Give kisses, answer 16 more questions, hear 4 secrets and 1 "serious problem". Turn on ipod lullaby playlist, blow an even number of kisses from the door. attempt to sneak out of bedroom with out letting the cat in. Lock gate at the top of the stairs and trip down the first 3 steps as cat has been waiting for you. maliciously. He has not forgotten who's side you took during the cage match earlier in the dressing portion of your evening.

9:00pm: Fall on bed. Remember laundry. Write list of things you didn't finish doing. pour large glass of wine. fall asleep before you can drink it.

As you can see the entire thing takes me about 3 hours to do on my own. I swear that I am not stretching the times on this at all. So you tell me, save skipping the bath (which I do, quite frequently in the winter) how on earth could I get them in bed any earlier? So I've decided I don't care. what's the difference? they sleep until 8:30 or 9 in the morning and I can get up before them and start whatever I need to get done for the day. But for some reason, i feel like I am falling short in the "getting people to bed at a reasonable hour without screaming" department.

In an unrelated note, Sam the Man just heard H close his car door in the driveway and jumped up to greet him at the door. and possibly rat me out for my poor conduct. He's a vengeful bastard and I even gave him a mouse toy with feathers to play with today. Feathers, for God's sake! It's really not my fault that C threw it somewhere he can't seem to locate. She hides stuff at my mother's house that we're still looking for. She's good at that. But crap at remembering. Which is why I spend an inordinate amount of time scouring the house for Stinky Pink and find her in cookware, my sock drawer, a bin of dress up clothes, on the bookshelf and in my shoe.

And people wonder why I drink.

re-reading old posts

I was checking out the ol' blog here and realized two things that I felt the need to share with the group:

#1 I used to be a hell of a lot funnier. even when the girls were little and I was sleep deprived. Maybe that's why I was funnier.

#2 the first year of twin babies was WAAAAAY worse than the semester of orgo, biochem and genetics with fly lab. Way worse. no comparison. even counting in my post-not-really-breakup with a certain round-headed freak. And that semester I spent a fair amount of time drunk and crying on a pile of shoes on the floor of my closet. Still better than first year of babies. And I think I was thinner.

I miss the spewing forth of my vitriol on this here blog-o-rama and I am trying to get back more. The problem I have is the lack of time blocks to do so. Obviously I had LOADs of time pregnant. that's all I had. time to ponder my expanding navel. And when the girls were little little, I had quite a few naptime breaks... once they napped of course. Now I think I have my life a little more structured (hold on, I just fell off my balance ball chair writing that. A LITTLE structured. I have a friggin' schedule taped to the desk broken down into 1/2 segments. and that's just MY schedule. 'cause I'm totally free-falling and not anal. at. all) and I have some actual real-live adult humans to talk with I am less desperate to connect here. which is sad because I heart you, innernets, and I would not have made it through that first year if I didn't have some of you to commiserate with.

So I'm trying to be back and I promise to work on the picture thing. You wouldn't believe what they look like these days. like people. tiny filthy spastic haired people. 'cause that's different than before.

Download Needed

please back up all systems onto external drive if you'd like to continue running this operating system.

I have way too much on my plate right now. And my brain is not up to full running capacity. I don't know if it's clogged with pollen or just running too many programs or what. But seriously I can't remember a damn thing.

And this covering a second shift on saturdays is turning out to be a way bigger hassle than it was last time. I suspect it has less to do with the patient load and paperwork than it has to do with my ever decreasing storage space.

Seriously, has anyone invented a backup disc for the human brain? I am in sore need of one.

I will not discuss the whining and general malaise of the short people. I think they have a cold now, and it's not allergies. Although, tomato tomahto really. It's still rivers of snot. and the battle of the hair barettes as snot likes to stick hair to your face in oh-so-attractive fashion.

Perhaps if I find a way to blog from my phone better. I actually think of 108 blog posts during the day, but I'm often hanging laundry or washing dishes when this little gems poof into my head and therefore far far from the laptop. which has unionized with the other electronics and therefore is constantly 'on break'

overheard

When asked what they are going to be for halloween, C had this to say (in one breath):

"we going to be wadybugs and daddy is going to be a scawy spider and I will stomp on him and go grrrrrrr!"

tough week

i've been surfing the blogosphere here and I am taking comfort in the fact that it has been an ugly week for a lot of people.

yesterday i took the trash out after dinner and almost kept walking down the block. when I finally got back to the door, Z was standing there looking rather concerned. I opened the door and she said "no working mommy" I think she knew I was thinking about ditching.

Perhaps that due to the fact that I cried while sweeping the floor after dinner. C&Z were eating yogurt pops I made with some leftover (read: almost spoiled) melon from last week. Why did I cry? I could think of no reason that I should not walk promptly into the bathroom and take a handful of something in a prescription bottle. I am pretty sure Sam the Mentally Insane Kitten who Bites People would have been a better parent yesterday.

Whilst I was sweeping and crying, C said "oh mommy! what wrong? why cying?" (there is no 'r' in this word) and Z tried to beep my nose. with her nasty sticky yogurt hands as she refuses to eat the icepop off the stick and requires '"pieces!" (requires being the kind way to word this so as not to expose her dictatorial nature)

I did not run away or kill myself. Or get divorced over frozen strawberries. which is another story entirely. And, I maintain, not my fault. But it was good to read around and see that there must be some astrological explanation for the ungodly horror that has been the world of mommy.

Can I have an "amen"?

Last night I had a dream that involved Kermit the Frog, an incredibly stodgy vampire who wore a lot of cologne and an disney-esque amusement park. I think I need to get out more.

Also, could someone please come to my house and explain to my children that they are, in fact, two distinct people and therefore cannot continue to be a vegetarian and a carnivore. Vitamins and protein will not miraculously flow through osmosis when you slap your sister or fall off the couch on top of her.

and finally, I had the distinct pleasure of taking in a poop sample to the vet for Sam the Man. I believe he may be knitting a sweater with his butt. I have a few guesses as to where he may have ingested bright orange yarn... the only question is was he in the crib at the time or was he being fed blankie from one of the inmates?

bad bad blogger

not much time to post these days. girls are up and running. everywhere. and I am exhausted. but I am at work now so it's nice and relaxing and therefore...



... I have nothing to say. Let's see, some recent developments:



the upstairs nursery is done and painted and decorated and has two little girls sleeping and napping in it. They LOOOOVE it! It has mad fun animals and toys they've never seen before and a piggy bank that they can point at and say "piggy" one million times. never gets old.

yesterday I let them crawl up the stairs for both naps. also mad fun. but led to Z getting carried half the way since C was zooming and Z liked to hand me every dust ball and cat hair on the steps. Which led to me sweeping steps. bad bad housekeeper as well. Starting yesterday and this morning, I let them walk out of their bedroom and onto the landing where I plopped them on my lap on the top step and bumped our way down. I am hoping this shows them how they should go down the steps and does not lead to a cave in due to the strain of my gargantuan ass galomphing on aged stairs. Let's pray we all don't wind up in the basement. Although Petey will find that amusing. If he can manage to stay awake long enough to care.

Petey has taken up residence on the foot of my bed. on my side. and by residence I mean he only leaves this spot to sniff disdainfully at his food dish and raise an unholy racket in his litter box. next to the babies' room. while they are sleeping. awesome. His new home also means that there is no place for my feet to reside whilst I try to sleep.

At least they are sleeping better and I started reading a book that has been sitting on the shelf for almost 2 years. It's a nerdy genetic book, but I think it's awesome and I'm sure it makes H cringe. He better cringe softly and out of range since it's a hefty volume and would most likely make a dent in his already lumpy head.

Today I stopped at bedbathandabsurd to return something and buy a veggi grill pan (the one with holes in it. how have I existed for so long without you?) and a helpful employee had to go in the back to find one. As grilling is done for the year and next week they will be rolling out snow shovels. I shit you not.

Enjoy your long weekend of BBQs and fall allergies. I myself, have a $4 coupon for zyrtec. yippie.

snippets

so I am not cool enough to understand twitter nonsense, but here's an excerpt from an email I just wrote crazy Diana, which I have a funny feeling did not send.... anyway

"also H says that I am dramatic and pathetic when sleep deprived and that is favorite is when I lose it in the middle of the night and swear at them for waking me up. Then I threaten to throw them in the garbage. Ok, I threaten Chloe since she's the trouble maker. last night she got into bed with us (not on her own, although H claims ignorance to her crib escape) and kicked H in the face. so I told her it was time to go back in her crib. which she did. but not on her own."

the sleep situation is getting better. Z is pretty much sleeping through the night and C is only up once for a cuddle and to sneak into the big bed. The trick for us was a bottle of milk (regular buy-in-the-store-for-$6-a-gallon-organic-whole-milk) before bed. This led to night weaning which led to full out weaning. Which is awesome for me. I didn't realize how ready we all must have been to stop the breast feeding. They didn't really want to nurse during the day anymore and I was tired of listening to someone cry while they waited their turn. so whole milk it is. and more sleeping.

This weekend, H and I will be painting the nursery (what? people prepare their babies' room BEFORE they are born? What lunacy!) so that they can move upstairs and we might not have to wake up to short people staring at us and yelling "HI!!!" at top volume until you open one eye a tiny slit. Then they cry. because you aren't already holding them. both. at the same time. but not their sister. and can we pet the cat? and poke him in the eye? what about your eye? can we poke that? did you know z has a belly button? Do you have a belly button? can I find it? oh, and did you see petey? he's a cat? oh, and HI!!!

100th Post!

and it's going to be about how I feel like the naptime nazi right now. being the holiday weekend, all our schedules are off. Yesterday C refused her afternoon nap and then had a meltdown in the bathtub. I couldn't even finish snapping her pjs on. She was so mad and screaming her face off. Then she couldn't fall alseep and wound up in bed with me from midnight to two.

this morning they didn't wake up until after 8am (dont' worry, they still had the 4am demand-to-nurse!) and Z was so hungry she actually ate her oatmeal. I know, shocking.

Now it's 11am and I think C finally stopped screaming in the crib. now she's just moaning and sucking her thumb. I really didn't want the morning nap to get pushed too far back, but a nap needed to happen.

It's absolutely horrid to stand here and listen to the screaming....

so i'll tell you what we got done so far this weekend:

Saturday we rented a truck to pick up two swingsets a friend was giving us (one for us and one for grandma's house). Since we had the truck, we carted a washer and dryer of my mom's over to the town recycling center and ran into a guy who was on his way to sell two girls toddler beds to consignment. He also had twins so we scored to brand-new looking beds for $50. Then we moved some of my grandfather's furniture back to mom's for her guest room and scored ourselves grandpa's rolltop desk. However this took all day and resulted in baby meltdown in the car circa 7pm

Yesterday we went to sears and bought a new dishwasher with food disposal system (joy and rapture) and H bought a crazy electric lawn mower. he is very excited about battery powered green mowing. I could care less, as long as I don't have to do it. Who am I kidding? I'd be happy to pay the kid down the block, but H is into his mower. During naptime (in the morning, C boycotted the afternoon nap and spent it with me in the glider watching curious george) we re-organized the basement and made a space for my laptop and printer in the kitchen (more joy and rapture)

Today H is off to the Home Despot to buy some supplies to fill in the gaps in the hardwood floor made by pulling out an extraneous doorframe (don't ask) and to re-sheetrock over the now exposed 1870 wood frame of the house. Babies love to scratch their little fingernails on this super splintery wood and we won't even mention Petey (MUCH joy and rapture)

Well, it sounds all quiet on the bedroom front so maybe I can sneak in and steal a load of laundry to wash while babies pretend to nap. Or not. someone just complained again. it's going to be a long day.

Hope everyone is enjoying the holiday and going to parades and eating hotdogs and drinking beer. Think of me and my naptime struggles while you lay about in the grass and eat potato chips...

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…

Under Pressure

I'm trying to formulate a post about the pressure to be the perfect mother. I'm not quite sure what I want to say, but it's so unfortunate that I feel a lot of times like I'm not enjoying them as much as I should becuase I feel this pressure to be doing the "right" thing. For example...



Playing:

I friggin' hate eduational toys. There are no educational toys for a 7 month old. they are babies. They want to chew on shit and see stuff that lights up and plays doofy melodies... they don't want to learn french or calculus. they want to chew shit. well, mostly C. Z wants to take over the world.

walkers/exersaucers: toy of satan or fun for twins who chew on everything? In order to eat dinner, or make baby food for the ravenous teething twins, I occaisionally have to stick them some where other than on me. The bouncy seats are no longer cutting it, but the girls still haven't mastered (or don't care to) the art of sitting. So for a few minutes a day they get plopped in a walker or exersaucer. C chews on whatever is in front of her. Z attempts to dismantle hers while moaning her evil plan to her henchmen. I lock the basement door and put a chair in front of it. I don't know why, their little feet barely reach the floor... but I took a header down basement steps at my 1st birthday party, and well, we've seen what that does ;) Anyway, does this make me "worst mother ever"? I hardly think so, but if I read one more dumbass book that equates these toys to burning your child with cigarettes, I may lose it.

Or how about teething rings? Why can't I freeze them? C wants to eat the fridge. Or the cat. If he were frozen. My mother found a teething ring in her fridge that was most likely Ed's if not mine. It's probably made of liquid lead. C loves it. no, that's an understatement. they are eloping next friday.

Television: See above re: walkers. Sometimes we are needing some Noggin' around here. Like this morning when I had to pump and babies did not want to chill on the play mat or read Don Quixote in the original Spanish. So we had a double no no: babies in walkers watching telelvision. Child protective services should have just walked on in and skipped the pleasantries. I mean, what an unfit mother I must be to allow my children to stare blissfully at big-eyed bugs on Miss Spider while I hook myself up to have a rendezvous with Felipe. So. They. Can. Eat.

Food:

Food is one of these areas where I feel like I need to make sure they are getting the right nutrients in the right balances and that more of it gets in then on them. Like if they eat bananas too many days in a row, they will be missing some key ingredient in oh, say, sweet potatoes that will make them Mouth breathers instead of Mensa members. this is absurd. There is no way that my mother could have possibly put this much thought into my food intake. The woman can't remember where she put her cell phone down after hanging it up. (this happened twice today). I'm reasonably intelligent. And look at H. he's pretty damn functional considering the bizarre inedible food product his mother likley served. (I reference the rosh hashana brisket/stewed cauliflower/corn on the cob debaucle of '03)

then there's the organic, free-range, hormone free hoopla. I know for a fact that my mother didn't buy organic vegetables when she made her baby food. Granted, there may have been fewer pesticides, but then again, it was the late 70's, so it was probably worse. People were less concerned or less aware of the crap on their food. I wholly buy into the organic fear mongering. I can't afford gas some weeks, but I am buying organic locally grown apples. At least I've down graded my own dairy from organic to "hormone free". Personally for myself I could give a shit about bovine growth hormone, but I went through puberty early and lord knows I don't need them with boobs at age 7. I have enough problems on my hands with identical twins, at least one of which may be an evil scientist.

The thing is that I feel like we are all driving ourselves crazy. You have to do what works for you and what's best for your life and your family. Do I think it would be better if I didn't have to rely on gadgets to keep my children from screaming so loud the dogs across the street bark? Yes. Is it likely to happen? Um, sure. If I cloned myself and hired a chef and housekeeper. I am doing the best I can with what I've got. I've got two well attached babies who are growing almost perceptively and need attention. We read books, we sing nursery rhymes, we eat two meals a day of organic fruits, vegis, oatmeal and yogurt. They have started taking naps in the crib in the morning and they go to bed every night by 8pm at the latest (we are working this up to 7 as I think they need more sleep and frankly I need less cranky babies at night). But that pressure is still there to measure up to some unatainable goal. I have gotten myself off the hook lately by thinking "maybe that would be possible if I only had one baby..." but I have a feeling there's only so much one woman can do.

Unless you are my mom. Who literally is a super hero. When I was a kid, she brought me roses after a show and signed the card "Super Mom" as a joke. Except it's true. Tonight she came by after work to watch them while I went to the doctor. Then she stayed to help feed them dinner. Then she gave them both baths and while I nursed them to sleep, she put away the bath stuff, did my dishes and cleaned my kitchen. Then she went to play bridge. But she called me from the car to say she couldn't remember who's house the bridge game was at. At least she could find her cell phone.

Giving Thanks

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the girls’ birth. Mostly this has been coming up since I’m now working at the hospital where they were born. Mostly because of the hand soap.

When you go to the NICU, you get an education on hand washing. They are very strict about it. And the smell and feel of that soap is something I will never forget. Now that I am working here, every time I go to the bathroom, I have a NICU flashback.

I am incredibly grateful. That is the understatement of the year. There are no words to express how I feel about the fact that my two tiny little peanuts who didn’t even tip the scale at 5 lbs, now eat cereal and fruit like it’s going out of style and have learned to turn the mobile on and off in their crib.

They are scooting themselves around on their backs and almost rolling over and sitting up (sounds like puppies, right?) and in those first few days they couldn’t even eat. C sometimes forgot to breathe.

One night while they were still in the NICU, a night or two after I had been discharged, I woke up panicked and made H call to check on them. C had stopped breathing for a few minutes, but ‘don’t worry,’ they said. ‘She only needed a little mild stim and she came right back’. Which part was scarier, that she had stopped breathing or that if she had been home, I wouldn’t have known what to do? How did I know she needed me?

I chose my OB/GYN based on proximity to my house and where they delivered. Before I was even pregnant or planning it. I did my research; I knew the NICU reputation, before I knew I was having twins. I stopped working at 24 weeks and went on restricted activity not much after that. I stuffed myself to make sure they could gain enough weight (ok, that part was fun). I did everything right. They still came 6 weeks early. 3 weeks before I had anticipated them (being they were multiples and likely to be born early). They even switched their birth order. They had their own agenda.

I am not going to obsess about food intake or milestones or even poop anymore. I’m retiring the log books. I am just going to be happy and grateful that I have two beautiful, healthy, (if you don’t mind some snots now and then), happy and funny baby girls. Last night I literally got down on my knees to thank god that they are here and they are who they are.

And I’m buying scented hand lotion to keep in my desk drawer so I can stop tearing up every time I wash my damn hands.

A Meme for Monday

Here's a meme i stole from stacie at the twinkies... I am low on creativity, but high on fluid, so enjoy...

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Probably coming home from crazy chorus tour to taiwan and getting ready for reunion. Which means I was drunk. or hungover. or both...




Five Snacks You Love:
cookies, banana with peanut butter and raisins, hummus and pita, chips and salsa, chocolate in all forms.


Five Songs That You Know All The Lyrics
well, that would be great if I knew the names to any of the songs I know the lyrics to. But I probably know at least some lyrics to every song. how's that? even some in weird languages you've never heard of about fat boys munching cheese...


Five Things You Would Do If You Were a Millionaire
Nothing. I would do nothing. I would pay people to do it for me. I wouldn't even wipe my own ass. (although these days, hiring someone for that may be worth the dough...)



Five Things You Like To Do
read, swim, knit, scrapbook and um, sit still.


Five Things You Would Never Wear Again
At the present moment I'm afraid that'll be most of my wardrobe.


Five Favorite Toys
mostly my palm tungsten fancy shmancy color screen fabulocity. I can't go anywhere without the palm. If your info/event is not in the palm, it doesn't exist. Plus I can make lists. we all know I love lists.

Yeah, so I can't even follow the directions and fill out five things for each one. oy. the fluid must be going to my brain. But feel free to tag yourself if you so desire. I can't possible play tag. I can barely wipe my own ass people.

I have a sono tonight. any guesses on how fat the duo is now?

Fear not my faithful readers, we did not actually have to go to the hospital yesterday. I toughed it out with about 12 hours of irregular (and annoying) braxton-hicks type fun. The contractions abated, for the most part, around 6pm last night and today I feel a lot better.

Not that I've done anything. I was planning on sleeping in this morning, but Petey had his own daily to-do list that involved playing with an errant twistie tie on the bed using my legs as hidey spots to pounce on said twistie. While H was in the shower. Then he decided he must must must jump repeatedly into the crib which he have put together next to the bed. This could have partially been my fault as the third time I tossed his twistie tie off the bed, I may or may not have thrown it in the crib. my eyes were closed. I cannot be responsible.

But now that he knows he can get in the crib this is a thing of joy and much planning. currently he is not speaking to me in retaliation for the yelling and kitten-tossing that crib jumping incurs.

Right, so back to what I have accomplished. Well, I've managed to not get dressed for the past two days. Yup, it's 2:30pm and I am in my nightgown typing this bad boy from bed. I read the paper and 2 million blogs. and took a nap.

what's left on my to-do list? make a grocery list and sort through coupons. take a shower. get my nails done.

what a life of leisure I lead, I'm sure you're thinking. I also find it funny that I'm clipping coupons and paying someone to paint my nails. the sad truth is that I haven't had a pedicure since my wedding and I can no longer reach my feet to even take off the hideous polish that's there, let alone clip my talon-like toenails. It's becoming absurd.

So that's about it for Friday. I did however, read a hilarious post on Crazy Aunt Purl's about her enormous purse woes. For kicks I got off the bed and got my ginormous bag (courtesy of f.fanny) and will now list it's contents. Feel free to comment back with your own wacky purse (or in Brother Fi's case, man-purse) antics.

In my bag:

• big red wallet
• palm pilot
• cell phone
• wireless earbud
• 3 napkins from different fast food establishments
• reciept for panera lunch
• driver's license (floating freely. don't ask, I don't know why)
• reciept from AC Moore
• Burt's Bees lipstick
• prescription sunglasses in large orange case
• 7 Splenda packets
• blue pen
• packet of facial blotting tissue
• black makeup bag (contents of which strangely do not include makeup. But does have:
• protein bar
• blister bandaid
• inhaler
• 2 different lip glosses
• 2 chapsticks
• 2 lollipops
• 4 crayons from TGI Fridays
• pill case of assorted drugs (tylenol, allergy pills, aciphex, zantac, and what i think are 2 xanax)
• 3 sugar packets
• 3 more splenda packets
• 4 bandaids
• purple pen
• mechanica pencil
• roll of tums
• mini tape measure
• swiss army knife
• hair band
• trial size hand lotion

Well, I gotta tell ya, I'm a little embarrassed and no, I will not tell you what's in my wallet. that's a whole other list of insanity. Please let someone be as crazy as me... I know for a fact that f.fanny carries her dog in a purse. that's got to be worse. right?

moneymoneymoneymoneymoney

hooray for me!!! I got my first disability check this week!!! We will not comment on how small it is, but at least we got some money!!!

the reality is that it won't last long. The first check is for the first week in May and since I only get paid out on 13 weeks of disability, I will run out of free money sometime around the second week of August. But at least we won't starve until then!!!

I know my finances are very boring, but I was excited. Plus I got to take a walk to the bank yesterday to deposit my very own check. so that was a double bonus. Money AND a walk to the end of the block.

Wow, life is exciting here.

today I am toying with the idea of going upstairs to tackle some of my scrapbook from Italy. I figure I only went on that trip last june, so I don't have to feel so bad about it sitting around in a paperbag and not in the lovely scrapbook I purchased for it. Plus I can't really justify starting my wedding or honeymoon albums when I still have the worldwind driving tour of the boot to finish up.

I know, hold on to your seats, this ride is really on the edge.

In knitting news, I ripped out the one gigantic pink mitten I had made myself this winter. (don't ask, I clearly have gauge issues) and started on a really simple baby blanket. I am also in the midst of a rather complicated baby blanket on size 3 needles which may cause me to go blind. I think the pattern is a little too hard for me. The color switching is not something I ever learned so I'm sort of making it up as I go along. With not so hot results.

Now back to your regularly scheduled nap.

Last night H asked me when it was time for the next belly shot. I told him the time was two weeks ago and don't worry, I took one myself in the bathroom mirror. Something tells me he doesn't read the blog...

So I see that everyone was too traumatized by my giant belly to comment on my last post. Fie on all of you then!

Things are pretty quiet here on the upstate front. I am low on inspiration so I think I will post up a meme that Lacey sent me via email. I won't tag anyone specifically, but feel free to tag yourself. hows that for lazy?

Things you may not have known about me.......... in convenient 4 bite portions.

4 Jobs I've Had:

1. Music and Drama director at summer camp.
2. Dishwasher in a plant science lab. at night. with enormous roaches.
3. Children's science museum docent. my co-worker was a boa constricter named "Spot". We sat at the front desk together frequently and greeted people.
4. Genetic educator for orthodox rabbis

4 Movies I Could Watch Over and Over

1. Roman Holiday. Something about the non-happy ending that I dig. plus who doesn't love a movie with a vespa?
2. French Kiss. Kevin Kline's french accent and the whole soundtrack amuse me to no end.
3. Titanic. If only to watch to ship and Leo sink. I blame this one on Ithaca's early last call and HBO's insistence on playing the same movie at the same time for a month.
4. Babe The Pig. C'mon, talking barnyard animals and singing mice? Need I say more?

4 Places I've Lived. Actually, I'll give you all of them. I should get some sort of tax break for never moving out of the state:

1. Fishkill
2. Bronxville
3. Long Beach
4. Manhattan
5. Ithaca
6. Carmel

4 TV shows I'm currently addicted to (Thank you DVR... I love you...)

1. LOST. but will they please get on with it?
2. Scrubs. mostly because he reminds me of H. actually he reminds everyone of H.
3. Grey's Anatomy. Even though I hate everyone on this show and frequently have to pause the replay to yell at people.
4. The Tudors. Smutty eye candy. and I only like the episodes with extra sex.

4 Places I've been on vacation:

1. Greece. Mostly the islands
2. Italy. Yes, the whole damn country. by car. including a 4am foray to switzerland. not on purpose. However, after that jaunt, mom has decided switzerland is her next overseas destination. oy.
3. Paris and the Riviera
4. Taiwan. Which wasn't really a vacation so much as a chorus tour/ bizarre psych experiment in college. Crazy Diana almost amputated her left leg to store in the overhead compartment of our double decker tour bus. yeah. you're jealous.

4 of my Favorite Foods: (this'll be fun. what does a pregnant water buffalo eat?)

1. Ice cream
2. Chocolate. in either cookie, brownie or candy bar form. oooh, or in milk. or yogurt or pudding...
3. frozen fruity bars with coconut in them
4. Burritos. but then, they always make the list.

4 Places I'd Rather be RIGHT NOW:

1. Tahiti. but only if I could teleport there. I am not making that flight
2. In a Spa. Anywhere. Having people rub things on me.
3. At any beach. with an umbrella and without other people.
4. 60 pounds thinner, not pregnant, with a frosty bev in my hand...

So there you have it boys and girls. Things you may have known, but wished you hadn't. But now the twinlets are kicking me which probably means they are hungry and I should feed them. I will force down something with protein and nutritional value, but you will all now know that I'm pretending it's a chocolate bunny filled with rum.

What happens to me without caffeine

Wow, I am a sucky blogger. You would think that since I am not working and my only job is to sit around here and gestate, I would find time to post witty and fascinating entries regarding being a uterus with feet. The problem with that is that it's not all that witty or fascinating.

let's take today for example. I managed to haul self out of bed around 11. This was after I was up when H left, ate a bowl of cereal and watched the today show for a while. the today show is like a horrific car wreck for me. It disgusts me and yet, I can't look away. Usually it's boring enough to put me back to sleep. Now that half of America is calling the local preacher to complain about my blaspheming the today show...

Right so, got up at 11. Read the paper on the front porch (don't worry, I got dressed first. But I am wearing a red t-shirt, so I'm pretty sure I look like the Kool-Aid guy) and called brother ed. Had to get off the phone with brother ed as we live on different plains of existance and there's only so much chatting we can do before I want to reach through the phone and slap him. This point was avoided today. Narrowly.

Came back inside and heated up some leftovers for lunch and chatted with mom. Then I piled some papers and the laptop on the bed to take care of some paperwork, check email, read blogs, etc.

It's 6pm.

Yeah, so thrilling. Yesterday: 2 separate 2+ hour naps and was still so tired, H had to bribe me to eat with KFC.

I think I'm due for a belly shot since yesterday marked 28 weeks and also leaves a countdown started until baby d-day. Let's see we have around 63 days left before we hit the big 3-7 and hopefully a lovely, calm, organized, planned c-section for the twinlets.

Last night H and I were talking and I said "Next summer you are going to have to teach them how to swim in the inflatable kiddie pool we'll have in the backyard" I think this stressed him out.