Rub a dub dub

When did bath time stop being fun time? I was trying to think back and I can remember bubbles/toys and then I can remember showers. At what age did bathing become functional and no longer a fun activity? I have so much fun bathing my kids. Even when they were just cute balls of goo and couldn't even focus on ceiling, I still loved giving them baths. Now a days it's even more fun with squirt toys and dumping water on their heads.

I used to love my showers. I would take long hot ones and do my elephant dance. When elephants are put in captivity they will rock back and forth on their feet, swaying side to side. I like to stand in the shower with scalding hot water on my back and rock from side to side. It's very comforting. I would take time with new bath products or scrubs. Try out some new shampoo that promised to eliminate my frizz. Now, it's Head and Shoulders (b/c pregnancy some how gave me dandruff), dial soap, neutrogena on the face and I'm out. If I've planned on going to the splash pad or something requiring shorts, I'll have to take the extra 2 minutes and shave.

When the kids are being good and taking their morning naps, my shower time is nice. When they are being stubborn, I take my shower half hanging out of the tub yelling "DO NOT flush my brush down the toilet!!" I've tried dragging toys in there but, why play with boring toys when there is a whole world to explore in mom and dad's bathroom! Laundry gets thrown about, drawers get pulled open through the safety latches, they try to climb up onto the counters or toilet, and sometimes succeed (making me jump out naked and wet to pull them off)...really there should be circus music playing in the background.

I guess the time will come when their bathtime is replaced by morning showers. I'll be left yelling at them to hurry it up or they will miss their bus. But, in the meantime, it is one of my favorite parts of the day.

Lonely

I had never known what it is like to be lonely. In high school I was lucky enough to be in the "in" cliche, my college was gigantic; full of friends and always something to do, and my graduate lab had a terrific camaraderie among us. Which is why I was so terrified about moving to a city where I knew NO one. It's something I suggest everyone does at least once in their lives.

I'm not talking move out to the suburbs so that you have to drive a whopping 30 minutes to meet up with some girlfriends, I'm talking, as far south as you can go in the contiguous United States.

Being alone has taught me a lot. First and foremost it has taught me how important a strong relationship with your spouse is. I can easily see how relationships can live under a delusion if there is constant outside influences. Of course, I think it's important for your relationship to have relationships, but when it's just - bam bam bam non-stop "other people", how do you know you can really stand to be alone with that one person day after day after day? Our relationship has had challenges we never would have faced if we were back in Texas, and it has only made us stronger.

Being alone has also taught me how much I value my friendships. My mom always told me that if you can say you have three "real" friends you are a very lucky person. Hearing this in college I thought it was the saddest thing I had ever heard. How can one person only have three friends! Well, let me tell you, even though Facebook says I have almost 450 of them, I am blessed to have only a handful of real friends. I appreciate them and love them now more than I ever would have imagined if I was still in the shallow end of the pool (Texas). It's more difficult and takes a lot more effort but it has made me realize the importance of deeper relationships. Keeping a closer knit circle allows me to focus my limited time on those I love, trust, and need. I schedule phone dates with a few of them and others I keep up with through long running email chains but I'm thankful to have them in my life.

While being alone has made me realize all these things, the realization does not replace the ever present loneliness. I've tried to make some friends here, but it is so hard to start over. And to be completely rude, if you are an educated young woman here, you are working. The stay at home mom's I've met here do not have that much in common with me. I've tried, but really, I have no clue what "The Hills" are or anything of that matter.

Having two toddlers also makes it a tad difficult for mere scheduling and physical reasons. A lady invited me over to her house and has yet to invite me back after my twosome ran like wild animals through her house and stole all her kids snacks. The only time available was during their normal nap time so you can guess things got a bit out of hand (and cranky).

Today I was cleaning my windows that look out on our backyard. I started tearing up for no reason, when I tried to figure out what was going on, I realized how much I missed my mom, my friends, people for that matter. There I stood, in the silence as my kids slept, scrubbing a window for no one. There are no people to come over and see my streak free windows or admire the fall centerpiece I made for our table out of bowls and different colored gourds.

Luckily, it seems we may not be in this land for much longer. Rumors at my husband's job are going around about our next location and they make me SO happy. I'm just going to hang in here a bit longer, but for now, I have to go because I have a phone date scheduled in 5 minutes with one of my dear friends back in Texas.

Discipline

I suck at it. Apparently. While mom was visiting she informed me that my kids act up a lot more than I did or my brother did. My parents were strict disciplinarians so it doesn't surprise me that we were extremely well behaved. It took until college until I no longer feared my dad. They believed in old school discipline and I have the swat marks to prove it.

Well, my kids are a bit unruly and it left me feeling a bit depressed today. I have read so much about child behavior that I have a tendency to over-understand what they are doing. They bite because humans are after all animals. Ever see a puppy that didn't bite? They hit because as a toddler their right brain is in control while the left brain is way behind and won't develop for a few years. So I have this annoying habit of justifying each "bad" thing they do.

I am also terrified of crumbling their self-esteems. Don't get me wrong, I don't want children who think they are God's greatest gift to this planet, but I don't want them constantly struggling for acceptance and approval much like my childhood. To this day I can hear my dad laughing about how I could eat an apple through a picket fence (huge bucked teeth) and hearing "dummy" each time I did something moderately stupid. I now understand humorous abuse is how my dad shows love, but to a 10 year old, it's mortifying.

We all have this annoying desire to fix our own childhoods though our children but if I don't start laying down some laws, I may have some really obnoxious brats on my hand soon. Much of their behavior came to head this weekend after my mom left. Grandma spoiled them, as grandma's should, and I was on my best "I don't yell at my children" behavior. Still to this day I can't stand to be criticized by my parents and if my mom thought I was too immature to handle them it would send me spiraling down my own self-worth ladder.

So back to this weekend. It was a....challenge. Anything we said no too, was done again with more enthusiasm and aggression. My daughter bit my son at least 3 times today alone. My son hit me in the face so many times I lost count. There was an electrical outlet outside that they loved trying to stick sticks into. My husband and I tried every tactic known to man to get them to stop and finally had to just give up and bring them in the house, to which both screamed and threw themselves to the floor. Small examples to a completely exhausting weekend (not to mention our daughter woke up screaming at 4:00am this morning and finally went back to sleep at 5:30am, we tried everything to help her but she finally just passed out from exhaustion we think).

The books all tell you that discipline should be handled in a caring and loving manner. I've read them all and tried all their tactics. But what are you supposed to do when caring and loving is countered with hitting and biting? My twosome could care less about time out, take toys away humph!, turn no's into positives, they just don't care. My children are very strong willed, they get it from their mom and dad. It's a trait that brought us together and has kept us together. It is why we are both successful people. So shouldn't I admire this quality in my children?

Who knows, maybe my parents did have it right. Getting the belt out sure did whip my brother and I into shape, but there has just got to be a better way. They are toddlers after all, this time will pass but man...no wonder parents hate this part.

shhhhhhhh

I hear it over and over. You need to make some noise around those babies! Any person who has come to visit us has given us their two cents on the way we allow our children to sleep, with no noise other than their white noise machines gently playing in the background. My husband and I are sleep advocates. We sleep trained our children and have been militant when it comes to establishing routines and healthy sleep. It's a far cry from our relatives who believe babies sleep when they need to sleep, even if it's passed out on a playroom floor. When our kids went to daycare for 6 weeks, they slept horribly. Barely at all and would come home exhausted, cranky, and mad. It's all well and fine if your method teaches your kids to sleep through a freight train I realize the necessity of it all, especially when there are kids of different ages in the same house. But for right now, this is how I want to do it.

My mother in law, my mom, my brother, etc. etc. all think that we need to march a parade through the house when the babies sleep rather than keeping it dark and quiet. We disagree. I look at our silence as a gift. It would be much easier for me to just go about my day while they nap, talk loudly on the phone, slam dishes around but instead I'm a little church mouse. While my mom was visiting, she got rather annoyed that each time she slammed a door closed or her cell phone went off on high-volume it woke a baby up. It's not that I'm training my kids to sleep only when conditions are perfect, I know that they sleep like me.

If a mouse sneezes I will wake up, if an ant is crawling across our wood floor the sound of it's little feet pitter-pattering will jolt me out of the deepest sleep. It's a curse. Not only do I have super-sonic hearing (brag: I score off the charts for my hearing tests, in fact the last time it was tested the test guy said, you hear that? I said, yeah why [with my hand in the air]? He said, no one hears that! you're not supposed to be able to!) BUT I'm also a very light sleeper.

Even more so since the little ones were born. If one of them coughs at 1am, I'm up for at least 2 hours. So anyway, dear people, please get off my back about the way I allow my babies to sleep as peacefully as possible. It won't always be this way but for 15 hours each day, this house needs to remain quiet and dark...their little brains are growing.

Brain Leap

I might as well title this blog, Events Occuring at the Park, because everything seems to happen there. Today, while climbing the jungle gym a rather unruly twerp protested my kids being on there with him. It is my policy to not interfere with kid-kid interactions unless it becomes absolutely necessary. He yelled in my sons face (who raised an eyebrow and continued on his way), he hissed at my daughter (which caused her to look away and run). These actions are typical toddler brat things and are not that big of a deal.

Then...he ran over to my daughter and began hitting her in the face and on the chest. She stood there helplessly blinking and when he stopped she looked at me and completley melted. I picked her up and held her. I made sure she didn't get scratched during the attack and tried not to stare directly at the mother who was mortified at what her 3 year old kid just did to a "baby".

After saying to her child that it is not nice to hit, in a sing-song voice likened to that of asking for cookies, she looked at me and apologized. I said, you don't need to apologize, you didn't hit her. This was my sarcastic, subtle que that maybe she should get her son to apologize for her actions. She didn't get it and took her son over to the side and gave him a juice box to distract him for a bit. Had this been my child, we would have been on our way back to the house immediately. I'm pretty tolerant of most of their "bad behavior" but I don't tolerate hitting.

My poor little girl has been chased, doused in water, and beaten all in the past couple of days by other children. Today though, something different happened. Developmental leaps are when the brain kind of goes haywire and finally jumps higher up the learning scale. They are very bizare because you kid can go from not knowing how to put two toys together one day, to the next day doing it with ease like they always knew how. Same with language..."ahhhhh" because "kitty cat" one day.

Tonight, after her ordeal, my daughter was a different person. She was singing to herself, diving through my legs and instructing me how to give her a bath. She had a different quality about her voice as well. Could the trauma of being hit so hard by another kid have snapped a wire in her brain? She also goes through these dramatic changes post-vaccinations. The day after her shots she is always a very bizarre baby and I have no idea who she is. I've always attributed it to her being ill from the shots, but it could be the trauma of the event that snaps her little brain.

It's very weird but I'm curious if anything like that has ever happened to one of you.

ok I get it...

I'm skinny, last weigh-in 5'5'' and 102.

After posting a few pictures on my other blog I got copious emails from friends and family telling me that they think I'm way too skinny, and they are concerned. I agree, I am way too skinny, but it's not like I'm not trying to put on some weight. I've been thin all my life and while it's easy to scoff at, it can be just as difficult and stressful as being overweight. I struggle with my weight. I don't look good, I look like a skeleton and no clothes fit/stores don't have my size. I've been put on disgusting protein powder, weight gainer and all sorts of other concoctions to put meat on my bones. Sadly, the healthiest I have ever been in my life is when I was pregnant with twins. I also felt fantastic as well.

I consume roughly 2500-3200 calories a day, I know this because I put myself on a feeding routine just like my children, otherwise, I would never make the time to eat. I have to eat when they eat otherwise I have little piranhas at my ankles snapping and whining for me to toss them a bone. The plight of a skinny person is something that most people want to flip me off for, but I promise, it is a problem and it is hard to deal with. I'm weak, if I miss a meal I drop 2 pounds, my clothes just sag and people make comments. Any problem that someone overweight is currently having, I have it as well, I'm just on the other side of the spectrum.

Honey, you need to eat! Since my mom has been in town this week she has been shoving everything she can imagine down my throat. I'm trying to convince her that tests don't lie and my thyroid has gone ape-shit since the twosome were born. Not only did they eat me from the inside out but they messed up all the hormones coursing through my veins. I'm taking medicine for it but it hasn't seemed to do anything except break me out all over my face and back. So now, I'm a toothpick with acne. It's like 8th grade all over again. When I wear my glasses at night it's any wonder why my husband leaves town so often.

I'm posting this for me, because I know you, the reader, on the other side of the screen want to claw my eyes out right now, but I had to vent to the vastness of the internet. I have to go take my tons-o-vitamins and go drink my chocolate flavored Boost before heading to bed. I hope I don't break a bone on the way there.

Mama's here

I have these moments every once in a while. Something happens and I re-remember I'm a mom. I mean yes, I have two children but I completely forget sometimes that I am "mom". Right now, they look to me for everything and trust me implicitly.

Today we went to the splash pad. It's a little kiddy water park that just has all sorts of water gadgets that squirt water everywhere. My kids absolutely love it. Often times when we go, some child has brought their home toys along. Not just one, but a whole assortment of fight-instigating gadgets. The children steal, grab and run off with all the other kids toys and there is always some one screaming "MINE!" or crying because something has been toy-napped.

It's hard to know how to handle these situations because my kids are small and don't quite get the concept yet. A little girl has a pink bucket and a blue ball. My daughter also has a pink bucket and blue ball at home. She doesn't have the capacity to understand that even though those toys look just like hers, they are not hers and she can not have them. All she knows is, that looks like mine so it must be mine, why does some other girl have it???

Anyway, some child brought their toys to the splash pad and he was not very open about letting others touch them. In my opinion, if you bring your child's toys to the park etc. those things are fair game. This little boy had a plastic shovel that he was very attached to. In fact, he kept filling a bucket with water and would throw the water at any child that came within a two foot radius of his special shovel. Of course, my son charged forth and grabbed the shovel.

The kid filled up his bucket and doused him with water. My son could give a damn. He just stood there with the shovel in his hand and challenged this kid to do it again. And he did. My son took a large amount of water straight to his face and the other kid roared like a hungry lion. My son basically shrugged and wiped his face with his other hand.

It was at this time that my daughter walked over to see what the fuss was about. She walked up next to her brother and BAM got a face full of bucket-water. She stood there in horror, did a little head shake, threw her hands in the air and came screaming for her mama. And then it happened.

I crouched down like a woman in a television commercial with my arms extended. My daughter ran for 20 feet with her arms stretched out and sobbing cries mixed with mama mama mama. She ran into my arms and buried her head into my chest. It was at that moment I felt like a mom. She hasn't really done that before. Sure she's ran to me here and there but it's normally to hide behind my legs. All she wanted was her mama to make her feel better after some little jerk threw water up her nose. I dried her off and sat with her a bit until she forgot the ordeal and scampered off to go play.

These are the moments I longed for when I was holding a screaming infant at 3am. For some reason, trying to convince a 10 week old to stop crying was not what I pictured when I dreamed of motherhood. However, comforting my little girl, smelling of chlorine, wrapped up tight in a towel is all I knew it would be, the most worth while experience ever.

Getting over it

While my husband is out of town (yes again) this week, my mom has come in to lend a helping hand. I'm very appreciative of it because the wear and tear of trying to be a single mom to twins is starting to get to me. She's helping out a lot but as expected, my mom is driving me up the wall too.

My mom is that grand-mom. At the park she has to let everyone know how fantastic her grandchildren are. A woman walked in and sat her child down on the ground. My mom asked with complete enthusiasm, "How old is she! My grandbabies are 15 months!" The woman hesitated and said "13 and a half months, she's a little behind developmentally because she refuses to walk." For her to make such a statement like that she is obviously very insecure about the whole thing. My mom said, "oh don't worry, she'll walk when she wants to, she just doesn't want to yet!!" [if you can't tell by all the exclamation points, my mother is a very hyper person]. The lady just said, "ya, I know." and shortly left the park after her daughter started crying.

My mom talks through the babies [my biggest pet peeve if you didn't know]. "But mom, I want more snacks, gimme more snacks please!!" She also has to call herself "grandma" in front of everyone. "Ok, guys, GRANDMA is gonna pay for groceries now!" It's like she's announcing to the world that these are her grandchildren and not her children (my mom is very young looking too so who knows the psychoanalysis on that one). She is also one of the loudest people I've ever met. I am a quiet person by nature and ask anyone I have lived with, you would never even know I was there. She's got cell phones going, music blasting, and talk talk talk talk talk.

But for all the things she's doing that annoy the ever living crap out of me, I'm getting to know some things that I never knew before. You see, my mom was married to a guy for a little bit and then hatched me. I've never met him, know nothing about him, all I know is that he was good at math and I can do derivatives in my head or figure out the square root of ungodly numbers. Other than that, it has remained a mystery because she just has never really talked about it.

I do know he ended up being a very bad man and it involved my potential kidnapping, cops, and a whole bunch of drama, but he is ordered never to contact me...ever. My mom met my now dad when I was only a year old and he came along with his own baby, my now brother. He had some very very awful things happen to him as a newborn that is still not that readily discussed but it ended with my father getting custody of a newborn back in 1980s (a rarity). The two met, married and that is the beginning of history for all I know.

I guess because my dad isn't around for this trip my mom has let me know some details. After the drama and before she met my now dad, she was working 12 hour days just to try and put food on our table and pay rent. My grandmother had to watch me during the day and my mom got to spend only about 30 minutes with me before I fell asleep for the night. It was just me and her from almost the time I was born until she met my dad.

I can't imagine the stress of doing it alone each night every night. But she did. She tells me all the time that I was such a good baby it really wasn't that hard, but I think that is to try and make me feel better. Being on my own so much when my husband travels, makes me appreciate my mom so much more than I ever did. So, even though she is doing many items on my, please don't-list, I'm seeing her in a new light and thankful I have her to help me this week, just like she had her mom when she needed her the most.

my internet goes out from 7:30 until 10pm each night. Working with AT&T but nothing is helping. I'll get like 20 seconds of service and then gone again over and over...hopefully it will be fixed soon. It's the only time of day I have to sit down and write something!

I'm a snob!

Tonight my husband took me out to dinner. This is the first time in over 18 months. We had a wonderful table, a nice bottle of wine brought to us, and a appetizer that called Proveletta (which is essentially a baked wheel of provolone cheese and olive oil). Life was looking good. And then it happened.

In walked a family of 15 and I saw it. A stroller. Inside this stroller was a little tiny 4-5 month old baby girl. I checked the time. 8:20pm, way past baby bedtime. The little girl was just staring at the ceiling lights with glossed over eyes. My husband and I looked at each other with a "ugh, poor baby" glance.

We tried to continue our evening but all we could hear was the baby crying. Being a seasoned veteran I knew the cry was a hunger cry. Mom did too and shoved in a bottle and the restaurant was peaceful again. 20 minutes later a loud sharp cry, a tired cry. My husband I looked at each other and said, that poor child is exhausted! Why do they have her in a noisy restaurant at 9pm at night!

The mom was just pushing the stroller back and forth in an attempt to soothe the child, while shoving her appetizer in her mouth with the other hand and carrying on a conversation with the other people at the table. My husband told me to quit staring.

I exclaimed that I couldn't help it. That over-tired baby has been wailing for 15 minutes now, mom doesn't seem to care, and I can't enjoy my fish because all I hear is waa waa waa! I was so annoyed that on my first night out to dinner, it was interrupted by an inconsiderate mom and dad.

Finally, around 9:45pm, dad took the baby out of her stroller and bounced it around a bit, doing a little baby dance that finally jostled her to sleep. He set her in the stroller and pulled the shade down and mom looked relieved as she downed her second glass of wine and signaled for another.

We got our check just as the waiters gathered 'round to sing happy birthday in Portuguese to the table next to that of the baby. My expression must have said it all because when they finished, the dad looked at me with a thumbs up sign and pressed his hands to his cheek alerting me that the baby had stayed asleep. That was my queue to leave.

When another parent can see the worry on my face and feels the need to chill me out? ya, I've passed the limit. I tried my best to enjoy my dinner but half of my conversation was put on hold, dropped by losing my train of thought, thanks to the little bundle across from me. I'm not a perfect parent but my husband and I do believe in baby-sitters, especially when it comes to fine dining on a Saturday night.

Internet Down

Plenty of thoughts last night. Just no way to post them. Internet was down. Hopefully it won't repeat tonight

Martyr

Why can't I do it. I look on my friend's blogs and on facebook and I see them leaving their babies and going to do things for themselves. Off to a week long vacation, off to their favorite concert, leave the kids at home. Why does it seem so wrong to me. Am I really just martyring myself for no good reason?

Yes, I realize that your first priority when it comes to motherhood is to take care of yourself. I do, for the most part, but taking care of myself by not taking care of my children is a concept I just can't get through my head. I know my husband and I need to go out on a date night, yet the practice of finding someone to watch the kids, getting dressed up, staying out past 9, and coming home seems so weird...and for NO good reason.

I think if we lived back in Texas we'd have a different take on things. We have a built in network of people that could help us out, but here in Miami, it's just...us. There is no one to drop the kids off with.

I saw a travel blog from a family that is back packing through Europe...with their 3 year old and newborn child!!!! I imagine it would be an easy time with the newborn if you were breast feeding but still, how do these people do it.

I feel like life is just winding down and I'm not living it. I gave myself all the excuses I could come up with during their first year of life. Their first year of life is the most important to establish trust and bonds. It's not good for their immune systems to get exposed to too many germs. Going strange places may overstimulate them and causes sleep problems. Ok, whatever. But the first year is over and done with. My excuse-o-meter is full. I have to get out there and do more things, but I'm...just...so...tired. It was all I could do to make it to Target with the pair of them today.

My hair hasn't been cut since they were born. I've had a pedicure at the demand of my mother-in-law and one because I was in a friends wedding. The only new clothes I bought were some tank tops and a cover up for our beach trip back in June. It's time. Can some one help make me, me again?

Miami Culture and Reduced to Poo: Part Too

Miami culture is essentially Latin culture. There are good things and bad things, the good things being a sense of community and love of family, the bad things being no personal space and hot tempers. Tonight I'm writing about the lack of personal space the automatic family instinct here in Miami.

When you have twins, you're an instant celebrity wherever you go. TWINS! OMG, My cousin has twins! What are their names, how old are they, are they boys or girls, why are you so skinny, etc. etc. Questions, ok, I'll put up with them, but the older generation of Latin men and women think it is ok to touch and even pick up my babies. Many times at the park I'll look over to see my son sitting on the hip of some other lady who is rambling on about how big and strong he is (or she's saying his ears look funny, I don't know their spanish is too fast). I know the instant someone picks my daughter up because I can hear the screams from miles away.

I'll give you two examples from my day today. First, I was at the grocery store when I briefly turned my back in the produce section. I hear an "AHHHHHHHHHH" and I turn around to see two mamacitas about an inch away from both of the babies faces. They've handed my son an apple and he is ferociously attempting to shove it in his mouth. My daughter has already thrown her apple on the floor and is reaching up for me (Save me save me!). I pull the stroller back and the ladies say to me (what I can briefly catch), that they are beautiful, he is big, she needs to eat. I politely smile and run to the freezer section now with a slobbery apple that I did not intend to purchase.

Second, a roof repairman comes to my house today to try and fix the roof (AGAIN). He walks in the house and sees my son. EYE! K LEENDO! He scoops him up and sort of tosses him the air as if it was his long lost grandson. My son sort of looks at me like, um, mom..assault? I kindly take my son out of his hands and direct him back to where the leak is.

Where else in this world is it socially acceptable to hand someone else's child food or grab them and toss them in the air?!? The Latins here LOVE babies and are not afraid to show it. Unfortunately I don't LOVE them grabbing at my children. Maybe I'm stuck up (ok so I am) but I don't know when the last time you have washed your hands is or if you've had a flu shot.

Someday I'll be back in Texas and will probably have lots of laughs about how my children would go through attempted kidnapping on a daily basis. But until then, I need a giant, hands off! sign to hang around each of their necks.

Reduced to Poo: Part Too

It's over. I can't believe it. The THREE month battle with diarrhea is over. If your child has ever had it, you know it's awful. Now imagine it everyday, for three months straight, times two. Whatever it was, has finally run it's course and diaper changes are no longer traumatic events that occur hourly at this house. Thank you thank you poo gods.

When the moon is in the 7th house...

Thanks to Amber I have found out that Mercury is in retrograde right now. I'm not "into" astrology but I do find it interesting. I do think that people seem to strangely fit into their personalities of the zodiac. True, it could have more to do with what time of year you were born during which determines your personality (those born in summer months seem to be more open and carefree (sunshine!), those in the winter months value close bonds (indoors and family) etc.) but still it can be some wacky stuff.

Ok, so it's in retrograde, who cares? Well, all of us with kids that are acting weird care! My children have switched personalities lately. My son is very warm and patient. He's smiling and laughing all day long. My daughter is not napping well and has bit me more times than I care to admit this past month. What has happened to my children?!? Is it possible that the gravitational pull of the aligned planets is making my kids wacko? I suppose it could be.

The astrologers say not to make any major decisions this month and it's important to roll with the punches. I've been rolling with the punches a lot lately. My husband is packing again tonight to go out of town and will be gone all next week. Sigh. My daughter still refuses to go to bed at night and will spend up to an hour doing a combination of moaning and crying. Then she wakes at 2am and likes to scream each hour after that. We have no clue but I'm tired.

I'm ready for Mercury to get moving the right direction again soon and for things to even back out. Until then I guess I'll light candles and put salt on my window sill...or whatever I'm supposed to be doing to create harmony with the planets.

I will listen

I am not a 13 year old girl so, while I have heard of "Taylor Swift" I was a little blurry on the details. Due to internet overload on this chick I looked her up and watched one of her videos.

Not only is she gorgeous her songs are annoyingly catchy.

I watched the music video for You Belong To Me. I was shocked to find myself enjoying it immensely. A feeling came over me. Nostalgia. I wanted to be back in high school and have those feelings again. That sensation that unrequited love is all consuming. You see, I was definitely not the pretty one in high school and always the guys best friend. I felt like Taylor in her video and couldn't help but feel giddy when she got her man in the end. I had to wait until college.

So tonight, I wonder, will my daughter have to endure the tragedy of painful love throughout her teenage years? Is this why raising daughters is much more difficult than sons past the age of 10? I didn't have the type of relationship with my mom to go to her with such heart pains and had to resort to diaries and conversing with my pets.

As I was dressing my daughter in her pajamas tonight I promised her that whatever she needed to talk about I would patiently listen and not try to fix everything. It's in a mother's nature to be a fixer. I promised her I will be a listener and a shoulder to cry on. I hated that about my mom, she is a Grade A fixer and not a listener.

I do admit I find myself a bit jealous tonight that in a few years, my babies are going to get to go through those up and down swells of the heart. At times it was excruciatingly painful yet overwhelmingly made me feel alive. Don't get me wrong, strong, steadfast and stable love are all I could ever want and desire, but to have what she has in this video can't help but make me smile and remember.

And so it begins

I was told one of the many things not to look forward to in toddlerhood is when they start saying "NO" back to you. Tonight it happened. My daughter climbed up onto the couch by herself (for the first time), turned around, sat down, and looked at me. I was shocked by the feat but was more shocked as she raised her hand, lifted her index finger and shook it back and forth saying "NO!". She knows she's not allowed to climb up on the couch, so she did so and then acknowledged her wrong doing. I wish I had had it on camera because it was the most adorable thing I've ever seen. My little girl waving her finger at me saying no up on my couch. Cute today, but in a few weeks, my tune may be changing.

She's just that way

My daughter doesn't like you. Don't take it too personal. She's always been a wary child. We have tons of video showing my daughter crying as various people try to hold her. She only likes me or her daddy, and sometimes she doesn't even want me.

I don't know what to do about this. I just roll with it most of the time and just accept the fact that my daughter only wants to be around the two of us. It, however, makes guest visits very awkward. I make sure that I do not apologize on her behalf and I don't make excuses either. It's very easy to say, oh, she's teething, or she had a bad nap today, just to try and make the offender feel better. But, apparently it's important not to do that. Trust bonds blah blah blah.

We went to the beach today and I saw another mother having difficulty setting up her sun shade. She had a toddler she was trying to wrangle as well. I got up off my towel and offered to help her and she passed me her daughter (I thought I was going to set up the tent!). She sat on my hip and we laughed a bit, sang a song, those sorts of things while her mom finished setting everything up. She finished, grabbed her daughter and said, Thank you so much!

I walked back to my towel and realized that that would NEVER happen with my daughter. She would claw the stranger's eyes out before she let them hold her. To amplify my earlier concerns, today at lunch my brother commented, "ya, your daughter has serious attachment issues, you need to fix that." Thanks, my younger, unmarried, childless brother. My husband raised his eyebrows with a "see" type look in my direction. He also thinks she needs to be more accepting of others and does not like the fact I just shrug and have a "that's who she is" attitude.

Anyone who has been in her personal space since about 6 months of age has witnessed her complete meltdowns and two have been covered in her vomit. She will smile at you from afar, but get too close and she hates you. I'm sure she'll grow out of it (I've never seen a 10 year old that hides behind her mother's legs), but in the meantime she continues to cling to us.

Surprisingly, my son is the social one who will let anyone hold him, feed him, diaper him, drink & party with him, he just doesn't care. I try to point this out to people who start throwing my parenting skills into question (you need to take them out of the house more, you need to enroll them in pre-school). How can two children, raised identically, have such different "stranger" behaviors?

The only answer I can come up with is everyone is different. I'm somewhat introverted and tend to only be around people I like. My husband doesn't know a stranger and can instantly befriend anyone he meets. That's why I was the lab rat and he's the business man. This too shall pass but I do secretly hope she'll let my brother hold her before he leaves. Even if she fakes it.

Faking it

Why do I feel the need to be the "cool, that doesn't bother me" parent when other people are around. My daughter trips on the playground today...oh honey, you're ok, just get up...when inside I'm screaming HOLY CRAP ARE YOU OK! My son is screaming at the top of his lungs in the restaurant tonight and I find myself saying, no hun, talk softly...and inside...NO! Absolutely not young man, you stop that this instant!

I guess when eyes are staring at me I feel like I need to look in control. Ya, I have twin toddlers and yes they are more than I can handle some days, but I'm oh so in control of this situation. I wonder if it's a gene pool tactic. Deep down inside my genes are telling me to make it look easy so our species continues on, if you show what's really going on inside your head, others may not reproduce. Our DNA must thrive!

We had a real test last night. My brother and his girlfriend are in town. We put our daughter to bed. Instead of falling right to sleep like normal. She starts hollering something awful. Our guests look at us and we calmly say, she does this from time to time. She's just very excited about her new visitors. WAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! No really, she's ok, she just needs to settle a bit. Five minutes pass and my husband goes to check on her. She's fine, just pissed. He re-pacifiers her, hands her her bunnybear and backs out. She's quiet for about 30 seconds, WAAAAAAAA!!!! We look at our guests. I find myself saying, well she had a big day, we'll give her a little bit longer. 10 minutes later I'm about to break. I look at my husband with pleading eyes and he gives me the nod. As I'm walking to her room, she stops. I retreat. Back on the couch I go looking unphased. WAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! I jump up. Silence. My brother quips, she's got you trained. Heh. heh. heh. Then asleep for good.

Had they not been here there would have been a heated roundtable discussion between my husband and me. Teeth? Overtired? Growing pains? Separation anxiety? Too long of naps? Too Hot? Too cold? To much air? Every single base would have been covered and we would finally come upon a conclusion, point a finger and then fix the problem. But with guests, we were calm and not worried about a thing. As I type this, she's hollering out again tonight. My little girl hates strangers and there are two in her house right now. I think I'll give her another 10 minutes because I've got this under control.

I am not your friend, I am your mother

Something I struggle with on a daily basis is establishing boundaries between me and my children. There is a time for everything and parenthood comes in a variety of seasons. I am not my children's friend, I am their mother.

Tracey Hogg touches on this in her books. She calls it the "Make 'Em Happy Epidemic". Our culture has been brought up to think that it is our job as parents to make our children happy. If they want it they get it. Closets become filled with toys and clothes pile up in drawers. After all, isn't it a child's right to be happy.

It is more important to me to create an atmosphere that will allow them to pursue their happiness, rather than me hand it to them. Daily I struggle with this. Advertisements show giggling laughing children clutching the latest and greatest toys in their sticky hands. Kids are hugging their parents for handing them a snickers. Companies want us to believe that it is my duty to make my kids happy by giving into their wishes. I disagree and take a different route.

Nowadays, if they've eaten too many crunchies (baby cheetos) but still want more, I have to give a firm no and put away the canister. It is met with anger and cries but I am not their friend, I am their mother. When we are at Target and they are grasping at all the toys, I put them back on the shelves because it is not a holiday or other appropriate toy giving time. That is met with tantrums and tears, but I am not their friend, I am their mother.

The worst crime I could commit to my children is making them believe that the world owes them happiness. Too often people confuse rights with privileges. Just as they are learning their ABCs and 123s, I want them to also learn how to be happy. It's not handed to you. You work towards it, you get what you give and you learn how to make yourself happy.

They also need to know that it is ok to be unhappy. Life is not in a constant flow of happy times. Often there are some really bad times, and they need to know how to work through them.

The time will come when I will become their friend. I think we have all gone through that transformation when one day we woke up and our parents became our friends. It happened to me after I got married and grew stronger after I had the babies.

It's much easier to "make 'em happy", but I know in the long run, if I can teach them to find happiness instead of expecting it, we'll all be better off.

My Story Pre-Miami

Kari asked a whole ton of questions about "how I did it" with the twins in the newborn stage. So I thought I'd write out my story for anyone who was curious.

Warning: I have been told when I have recounted this story, to those who have asked, it comes of overly negative and it sounds like I'm convincing people to never have children. That is not true. It was freaking hard and it deserves an accurate account rather than some glossed over version. That's like saying that for my thesis, I ran a few experiments, stayed in a lab a bit, and wrote a little book, but it was no big deal really.

The very beginning. We wanted babies, doctors said "no can have babies" because I have what is called non-obese polycystic ovarian syndrome. Choices, roll the dice on mother nature and hope I get knocked up before I'm 40, try fertility treatments starting with the easiest and work my way up, do in vitro, adopt. I decided to take door #2. Started with the treatments. They sucked, big time. Almost 2 years of these sadistic pills (I had mutliple different cocktails over the time period), we decided to up the level and start with the injectables. This required me to shoot myself in the stomach with a needle and do all other sorts of stuff, including going to the doctor every other day (oh and by the way, my insurance covered none of this). Low and behold, the first time I did the injectables, it worked. I got preggo and found out there were twins. I was shocked at first but then relieved there were only 2 and not 10. So, almost 3 years and about 10k later, we had our babies.

Babies came out, my daughter was too small and had low blood sugar so she went to the NICU. My son came out a full pound heavier than estimated and drank 2 ounces of formula an hour after birth. The nurses could not believe it and one of them even took a picture of him with the empty bottle, they had never seen it before.

After they cut my babies out of me, I lost a tremendous amount of blood and according to my OB, my insides were pretty banged up from the whole heck of a lot of baby I was carrying in there for 37.5 weeks. During recovery, my temperature plummeted and I passed out (I had no blood). I don't remember much but I remember waking up with heating blankets on top of me, nurses around me, and monitors beeping. Apparently I was a few seconds away from a tranfusion but I stablized in time.

In days following their recovery, I was in bad shape. Very bad shape. I was very weak, grey-ish pale, and was having a reaction to the pain killers. I was told that all I could take was Rx Motrin because of my reaction to the narcotics. Might as well have taken sugar pills. I also had terrible gas pains, not like the kind coming out of my rear, but the kind that localizes in your shoulders and chest causing not stop stabbing sensations.

For 3 nights in the hospital, I slept only 4 hours because I was crying in pain or my heart was racing so fast from all the stupid narcotics I was coming off of. While in the hospital I only held my babies about 5 or 6 times. Totally my fault. We had guests, and I mean guests. At one point in time there were over 20 people in my hospital room. Everyone wanted to hold them, everyone wanted to feed them, I just laid in my bed too weak to stand up and watched. I tried breast feeding, my son wouldn't latch because he was pissed there wasn't anything coming out, My daughter latched right away and was textbook breastfeeding. I pumped once every 2 hours around the clock trying to convince my milk to come in.

We got home and the parade didn't end. People people people. First grandchildren on both sides of our family, everyone wanted to see. I thought I wanted that, I didn't. My milk finally came in the 4th day home from the hospital so a full week after they had been born. I attempted breast feeding again but had visitors all the time. I put away my breast feeding goals because I was too afraid to ask people to leave the room so I could work on it. I was going to breast feed the twins, I went to classes, I learned how to tandem feed. My daughter had a great latch, but none of it ever happened how I wanted it to. Which is why, to this day my favorite piece of advice for new mom's "Lower your expectations" (thanks Trish).

Then the hormones hit. No one tells you how hard the hormones are post-birth, no one told me how hard TWIN hormones would be, two placentas equal double hormone loss and swells. They are devestating. I couldn't talk, I cried when I was finally left alone, I was in constant pain. I didn't even know who my babies were because I rarely got to hold them. I thought I had to keep the grandparents and relatives happy. I loved the nights because no one was around but me and my husband and I would flick on my cell phone light so I could actually see what my babies looked like.

During the day, I sat in bed, supplied the milk and watched some more. I pumped and fed breast milk from bottles but had to supplement with formula also. I couldn't make enough for both and my son was unbelievably hungry. But, I did it for 3.5 weeks. Every 2-3 hours, I'd get out the machine, hook it up and pump for 20-30 minutes (while people waited upstairs and I got to close the door). Then I'd take the milk, pour it into bottles, add formula on top, the troops would come back down and feed the babies, which took about 30 minutes for them to eat (had to burp about every 0.5 to 1 ounce). Then, change diapers, play for 5 minutes during the day, and put them back into bed.

For 2 full weeks, I never left our downstairs bedroom. I couldn't walk up the stairs and was too weak to go out. I was trapped in that room, sleeping only about 2 or 3 hours a day. I couldn't go anywhere even if I had the strength, I was their source of food. At 2 weeks I went to my doctors appointment. She was worried, I weighed less then my pre-pregnancy weight and was very swollen. I was frail because the babies took everything from me, I had been eaten alive. I went back to my room, and made it up the stairs for the first time 4 weeks after I had had the babies. After my 2 week checkup, the next time I left the house was for my 6 week check up and I almost passed out in the parking lot and then again in the waiting room, stupid blood still hadn't recovered.

Back to the breast feeding. At 3.5 weeks, I stopped giving them breast milk (in this mean time, when no one was around (except the husband), I would get a latch. If I had only been more alone and had a son that wasn't starving all the time, breast feeding would have been easier, but my son would never latch, he was just too impatient for food)). I developed both mastitis and thrush. I had a fever of 102.8 and was not keeping much down. The thrush felt like piano wires were being inserted into my breasts and I just couldn't put the pumps on any longer. I suffered through engorgment cold turkey by laying in a tub of warm water with frozen bags of pees on my chest 5 times a day for 4 days and nights. [short answer, most of the time pumped breast milk and formula for 3.5 weeks, then all formula after that]

After 3.5 weeks, the babies got all formula on a 3 hour schedule 24 hours a day. During the day, if someone I trusted was at the house, we fed them together to keep them on the same schedule, if I was alone, I would either prop them up with towels and a boppie and put a bottle in each hand, feeding them on either side of me or I would stagger their feeding schedule by 30 minutes. My son was always hungry though and would often eat on a 2 hour schedule while my daughter would eat on a perfect 3 hour schedule. During the nights, my wonderful husband and I slept on the fold out couch in that bottom bedroom and fed every 3 hours during the night. It would take 1 hour to heat up the bottles, feed, burp, change diapers, swaddle and get them back in bed. So then we would all sleep for 2 hours and start over.

Then colic started. One night, out of the blue, my daughter curled up in a ball and just started screaming. We both panicked and didn't know what to do. In about 2 hours, she finally stopped and fell asleep. 3 days later, our son started doing the same thing. I knew what it was but I would not admit it. I knew it was colic but thought no God on this earth would be that cruel to give me twins with colic. He was. At their 8 week, doctors appointment, I brought my cry log sheet and our doctor diagnosed them with colic. An actual diagnosis yippee.

She gave me some drops to try to sedate them and all it did was make them vomit. So, until they were 11.5 weeks old, my husband and I endured colic. Hours of screaming and doing the 5 S's from Happiest Baby on the Block. I sat upstairs in our bathroom with our daughter, swaddled on her side with a pacifier in and a hair dryer (the only noise that would stop her from screaming). My husband was down stairs doing his best with our son until 8:20pm. For some reason, at 8:20pm, all the madness would stop. We'd put them in their cribs for 40 minutes run upstairs and do chores and then we'd feed them at 9:00pm, 12am, 3am, 6am......

Then at around 12 weeks, God said, ok, sorry about that, I just gave you infertility, twins, a difficult surgery and recovery, mastitis, thrush, a ripped stitch and colic. For your patience, Job, I will let your babies sleep through the night. And then there was bliss. Or Baby Wise really worked. Who knows.

When I went back to work, I was a zombie. I couldn't function. I was still weak and my head was foggy. The whole time I was at work my mind was constantly thinking about the babies, phone calls got missed, I booked a meeting in a very wrong room, I missed a deadline, important emails wouldn't get answered, it was bad. Even with all of that I still was barely working. After starting daycare, the babies were constantly sick. So I would work 1 day, get a call saying that one of them had a fever and have to miss the next day. Go back to work, the other one would now have a fever, miss the next day. I only went back to work 6 weeks and in those 6 weeks I worked a total of 14 days. Then, I learned we were moving to Miami, Florida.

Mid-October both babies got really sick as well as my husband and I. Fever, coughing, tons of snot, it was terrible. My daughter slowly recovered but my son just wouldn't seem to get better. I had quit work and was staying at home taking care of him b/c he was just so lethargic and ill, he'd have good days and bad days, but I figured he was just recovering. We found a house in Miami in 2 days, had a goodbye party, life was a whirlwind, but my son just never seemed to get well.

After a week, bad went to worse and he wasn't keeping any food down. I'm sure most of you know the story already but here it is again. I took him to the doctor on Tuesday. The doctor I saw told me it was just a bad cold and when I mentioned it might be RSV, she actually told me that I was spending too much time on the internet and he'd be fine. Took him home, he got worse, a lot worse.

Took him back on Thursday, our regular pediatrician saw him and was concerned. He had a double ear infection and she said she could hear some wheezing but it may just be left over from the cold. We did some breathing treatments and she sent us home and said to keep an eye on him. Friday, I brought him back, he was bad, he could barely hold his head up and hadn't kept anything down in days. The minute she walked in the door our pediatrican's eyes doubled in size. She examined him for about 2 minutes and ordered chest x-rays. Diagnosis, bronchiolitis and pneumonia. Antibiotics, breathing treatments and a machine we took home with us.

That night, halloween night, in his crib, my son stopped breathing. I heard whimpering over the monitor that stopped abruptly. I went to check on him and he was just laying there, eyes fixed open. I grabbed him, slapped his back and he took a rattley breath finally and I rushed him to the emergency room. His pulse ox was 89 and his new x-rays showed that part of his lung had collapsed. He got oxygen and was on Q3. The next day, Nov. 1, my husband left us to start his new job in Miami. I was alone, but thanks to my mama who came in, my daughter, who was sick too, was being taken care of at home while I was in the hospital. 4 days in the hospital, 4.5 lbs lighter, and a mom who hadn't showered, we finally came home.

A week later, movers and packers came to our house. I moved out to my mother in law's house where the babies slept in pack & plays and recovered from their illnesses. 3 weeks later, we flew to Miami and started life here.

The first 5-6 months were a bit rough on this ol' gal...

As I look back, I can't believe it's about to be October again. That month (well the last 2 and the first 2 of November) will always be stuck in my mind as one of the worst months of our lives. We got through it but I never ever ever, want to go through any of that again.

Please keep your mouth shut

My husband left for the land of "we like to kidnap white people" this afternoon and I ran about town. First to Sears to buy a sewing machine. Wow, how domestic of me right? I don't even know how to sew a button so I have a lot of work ahead of me. When I was in Home Ec in middle school we had to sew a pillow. I chose a heart pattern, when the teacher came over to grade it she said, "oh what a nice jelly bean".

Then we were off to the fabric store (Sears apparently doesn't sell thread). It was difficult to try and explain to a woman (who doesn't speak a lick of english) that you don't know what the hell you're doing but you need some thread type stuff to go in a machine so you can stick some fabric together. Color? I don't know, what color am I supposed to use?

Then to the grocery store. By the time we finished at the grocery store both kids had had it and so had I. They don't like getting thrown from carseats to stroller and back, nor does my back like lifting/wrestling them. So, we're on our way out to the car when some lady with a cigarette resting behind her ear says, "WOAH! Double Trouble!"

When I used to be a nice person and actually cared about strangers feelings, I would gently say, "no, more like a double blessing" and be on my way. Now a days, stuck in the closest latin american country to the US, I just stare. It's my most effective tactic when dealing with idiots. Blank, deadpan, stare. No one needs to make any comments to a mother of twins, with the exception of a few "que lindo or que linda"-s .

Things not to say to a mother of boy/girl twins part 1 of many

1. Aforementioned "Double Trouble"

2. Are they boys or girls?

3. Which one is smarter?

4. Which one do you like better?

5. Did you do in vitro?

6. Was it you or your husband that had a "problem"

7. Are they identical?

8. What were you thinking?

9. Oh wow, two college tuitions at once!

10. (My fav) Oh! I had my children 10 months apart from each other so it's just like I had twins too!

No, no it's not. Having a 10 month old and a newborn is nothing like having two newborn twins. A 10 month old is probably eating 3-4 meals a day. A newborn eats 8-12 times a day, around the clock and is either attached to your boob or getting fed in just enough time for them to take their next nap. So that's 16-24 feedings I'm doing in a 24 hour period at approx 45 minutes per feed. Don't tell me that "it's the same". What I would really like to say is, actually you must be in the 1% of women who came home from their 6 week post-partum check up and didn't lie to your husband about your clearance for sex. Your bad.

Ok, I'm off to try out my new sewing machine. Hopefully my daughter will actually sleep tonight instead of being up from 10:45 until 3am. Ya, last night was a blast.

The more you have, the more you could lose

One of the more difficult parts of growing up is that as the years pass you stand the potential of losing more and more. I remember in middle school an occasional student's grandparent would die, in high school, besides the death of Kurt Cobain, tragedy rarely struck anyone with the exception of maybe someone who lost a parent in a terrible accident. As college came around, you could lose a friend, or someone very close to you. As post-college years pound on, you indeed could feel great sorrow for losing a boyfriend or another family member.

Then people get married. The stakes rise, the idea of losing your husband is something that has entered all our minds. On the way home from work, a terrible car accident. Being inside a bank at the wrong time, anything is possible. If something ever happened to him, it would feel like you lost a part of yourself. Then, you have a child. If something ever did happen to them you literally would lose a part of yourself, and the pain of that is not something I would ever recover from.

We have it easy nowadays though. Take my great-grandmother for example. She had 12 children. 3 died in infancy (1 of those I think from scarlet fever), 1 died in her sleep (choked to death), and 1 died at 7 years old because he stepped on a rusty nail. 7 others made it to adulthood, a feat probably unimaginable at that time. But, could imagine it. Your child dying because they stepped on a nail. How did she recover? Apparently she did, she never talked about it, but it was in the family history books. Was is just expected back then to lose a child to something as simple as running barefoot or because there were no child monitors to hear them choke in their sleep?

Why such morbid thoughts tonight?!? Well, my husband is packing his bags to leave for Columbia as I type this. He works for a major oil company and is traveling with high up executives. He tried to reassure me that because of his travel partners, the security is going to be extra beefed up. This doesn't comfort me.

What the hell would I do if I ever lost my husband; my best friend and the father to our beautiful twins. Of course, I'd go on to be strong for my children, but a part of my soul would die too. These are things that come into my head as I'm holding my son in my arms, watching his eyes get so drowsy he can barely hold them open. How would I do this alone? I mean, yes I do it alone quite often since dad travels so much but how would I do it if I was really alone? And what would happen to me if anything ever happened to one of them? I would die too. Not my physical body, but inside I would be dead.

I react much differently to news stories I see on television or the internet now. Back then, if I would see the death of a child, I'd think, "oh man, bummer, that's really sad." But now, if I see in the headline that a child has died, I can't read it nor watch it. I weep.

He's done this many times before. But still, until he's back home safe, I won't be able to breathe.

It'll get better, just you wait

I love advice. I take it from anyone and everywhere I can. I soar through books like you can't even imagine. But the one thing I do not appreciate is unhelpful advice. At this time, there are two phrases I can not stand. Anytime they creep out of a strangers mouth it makes my skin crawl, as if their voice personifies nails on a chalkboard. "It will get better" and "Just you wait". Two pieces of advice that are of no help to anyone. One is masked as encouragement and the other as discouragement. (keep in mind I said strangers, if you're my friend, I'm sure you have so decent experience to back up these intro comments)

Today, at the park, (always with these run-in's at the park), we had just closed the gate and bent down to place our kids on the ground when I hear, "Are they twins, how old are they!?!" I look up to see that mom shining proudly down upon me. I rise up, take a quick assessment of how easily I can avoid this woman, then answer, "they're 14 months". She says "OH!". Pause. I clear my throat, "and how old is he?".

"He's 2 and a half years old." (at least she didn't say 30 months and 1 week). "But he's also a twin, his sister is right there!" Hmm...another twin mom, quick re-assessment. Is she wearing heels to the park, no-pretty casual...are her kids in designer clothes at a park, nope-normal...do her kids seem rowdy, nope-playing nicely...HEY!, maybe I could make a new friend and then we could.....

"OH, don't worry it will get better!" DAMMIT. FAIL.

I give my polite, thanks for nothing-smile and get back to my kids who are now tearing ass across the park.

"If you think they're a handful now, just you wait!" DAMMIT. DOUBLE FAIL.

Why, might you ask, do I hate these phrases. Because if you break them down, they're actually pretty rude. The first "it will get better" assumes that you are not happy with the situation as it is right now. You don't even know me, why make such an assumption? It's like looking at a little girl and saying, don't worry, you'll get prettier. I am perfectly happy with my children right now, yes they may cause me to spit knives here and there, but I'm peachy.

Second, it's obvious. Of course it is going to get better. Things always get easier the more you do them and as children grow towards independence of course it won't be so difficult. But then again, you could probably talk to a mom who has a 14 year old and she would pray for a 14 month old.

The second of the gruesome two-some "just you wait" implies that you have no freaking clue how hard they have it right now. You may have a newborn, but I have a toddler. You just wait until that screaming-up all night-spitting up-bundle of joy starts stomping your foot and screaming NO in the middle of McDonalds. It basically takes whatever problem you think you are having at the moment, negates it, and says, oh but it's going to get MUCH worse. Thanks for taking any joy I once thought I would have out of my future.

It, like the previous statement, is also obvious. Yes, believe it or not, I do know that thing are going to get much worse in the attitude department. I am terrified to imagine what my son is going to do. I've used up about 95% of my patience on him so I don't even know how I'm going to cope in a few months.

The other problem I had with this woman is that she was saying these things right in front of her kids and in front of mine. Why do parents think their children are deaf? How would you feel if your mom was talking smack about you while you were standing right there? (ok, we all have probably had our mom's do that anyway, so we all know how it hurts).

Anyway, I'm sure she was just trying to be friendly, but it came off poorly. She avoided me the whole rest of the time we were at the park and left without saying goodbye (she said buh-bye to other mom's she had introduced herself to). Most likely it was my blank stares that alerted her to my lack of interest in her advice, this is why I have no new friends in this town people.

Not really Diamond Darling material

We all have that idealistic image of what type of mom we would be. I was going to be the "my child hasn't changed my identity" mom. I was going to go on being myself, styled hair and clothes, jumping onto the latest and greatest music, traveling, late night coffee bars, I was going to be so cool. Then reality hits and it is suddenly apparent why most moms are just not cool (except to their young children).

You have zero time to work on yourself physically. I can't remember the last time I took a shower longer than 5 minutes and my hair has been blown dry less than 10 times since my babes were born. Makeup consists of moisturizer thrown on after the quickie rinse off and if it's a special occasion, I'll break out the mascara. Clothes become functional because you have to be comfortable to carry or chase little ones around, and you have to not mind getting slobber or who knows what on your threads. T-shirt and jeans, woohoo college days are here again.

Today, the four of us packed up and went to a batting cage. [that sounds so easy, right? Actually we had to plan to do this after the second nap, after snack time, change clothes and diapers, get shoes on, get the diaper bag packed, and get kids loaded into the car. From baby wake-up to pulling out of the driveway equalled 1 hour, I have forgotten the definition of impromptu] We arrive, to the batting cages, which appear to be housed in an old mechanics garage in an industrial type of neighborhood. I am sure this area has been previously featured on CSI:Miami before. We walk in, my husband pays for his tokens and proceeds into his batting cage to have balls hurled at him faster than I could even see. [He did really well and really impressed me btw]

As soon as we walked into this establishment, I felt SO uncool. Here were all these young macho guys, swinging metal bats at balls going 85 miles an hour. My hair was in a pony tail, no makeup, t-shirt, squash & sweet potato stained jeans (from lunch) and with two babies in tow. My daughter sat in my lap while my son was confined to his stroller. We sat there and played games, sang songs and kept the snacks flowing to ensure no major breakdowns.

The testosterone was bleeding down the walls and there I sit singing about how the wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, all through the freaking town. Glances were a-plenty. Language was cleaned up for my benefit and these young hunky 20 year old men were making goo-goo faces at my daughter.

I will admit that at this time, I wish I had strutted in there, full make-up & hair, wearing a designer top, tight fitting jeans and stilettos. That is how I always imagined myself as a mom. The hot mom. Instead, I have a few more years to live in reality, but mark my word, there will be NO soccer mom van.

Hugs and Thugs

I didn't have any earth shattering revelations today. Today was just 'a day'. Daughter is still doing her whiny moaning things all day long but my son is mysteriously good and happy. Is it strange that I am concerned when he is not slamming his head onto the floor or screaming with such intensity his lips change color?

Today, he was funny, polite, listened and was very sweet. I sheepishly smiled and looked at his big eyes when he came over to give me a hug. Who is this child!?! His naps, straight down, not a peep. Bedtime, laughed on the changing table instead of trying to tear my eyes out and kick me in the stomach. I guess he's having a good day. I hope it will continue until tomorrow and maybe the day after that (greedy!).

It never fails that when one is in an up swing, one will be in a down swing. There has been one such day that both were fantastic. I remember it well. It was in March. Two laughing children, perfect long naps, and not a fuss was heard. My husband came home from work and asked how the day was, I exclaimed PERFECT! Who knows what happened that day or what planets came into alignment but I was grateful for it.

Today we went to The Dolphin Mall to purchase cleats and a new batting glove for my husband. I've finally convinced him to try out for a hardball league in town. He's nervous. He was the talk of the Richmond/Rosenburg town when he was in high school and a well written about baseball player. But it seems nowadays he knows that his athletic form is not what it used to be, but nonetheless he's going to give it a shot.

While at this glorious mall (it truly is breath taking), I saw a few kids in strollers that made me sick to my stomach. Drinking kool-aid and cola out of bottles, eating skittles by the handfuls, and 3 year old that was so obese he just kind of sunk and disappeared into his stroller while he munched on his Wetzel's Pretzel. Shut up me...stop judging (it's just SO hard).

Life always has a way

Life always has a way of slapping you in the face whenever you're feeling down. Not a slap to make it worse, but a slap to say quit yo' bitchin' woman.

Today was one of those days. Baby girl woke up with a fever, cranky attitudes and a biting event that left one of the twosome bleeding. I decided to run to Target to grab some Grandparents day cards (one of those things I'm obligated to do now). It's a very long story as to what transpired in the store but it resulted in the following things. Two slightly injured screaming toddlers, me cursing at someone out loud, a child that tried to dash away, soaking wet mom and kids and a disheveled woman by time I returned home.

As my twosome finally took their afternoon naps I found myself sulking and pitying myself for having twins. It's true. Sometimes you look at women that just have one child and you think, lady, you have no idea how easy you have it. Take your exhaustion and multiple it by 4. Because for some reason, 1 baby feels like 1 baby, and 2 babies feel like 4.

With such a ransacked day, I figured it couldn't get much worse so when dad got home around 5pm, I greeted him at the door and told him we were going out for pizza. We quickly left and arrived at the parlor ready to chow down.

Our kids were set up and looking very cute when a pregnant woman and her 3 children (girls), all under the age of 4, walked by our table and sat down to eat. My husband and I shoved food in our mouths as fast as possible while entertaining our kids and letting them sample our food, plus giving them their normal food.

We were about to leave when the oldest of the girls walked up to me and started asking me a host of questions that is typical of any 4 year old. What are their names, are they twins, how old are they, do they have a pet? Then she looked me right in the eyes and said, "My mommy was supposed to have twins but God changed his mind and now we're only going to get a new brother but not a new sister too."

SLAM! (eyes tear up but not enough to outwardly notice)

Thank you God and thank you world for kicking me in my own ass when I need it most. I could have lost either one of my children at any point during my pregnancy. My high risk OB even commented a few times that someone my size and weight is not designed to carry two. But I did and they are both here as healthy as could be, I am so fortunate.

We left the restaurant and as I passed by the woman I told her congratulations and she turned around a congratulated me too on such beautiful twins. I felt guilty as we walked out because even though she already had 3 others to deal with, she probably would have given anything in the world for her unborn baby girl to have made it and joined her family.

Gossip

One of my favorite things to do with the kids is to gossip about them, right in front of them. I read about it in a book (who knows which one!) and thought it was a fantastic idea. During the day I tell each other how great the other one is. "Did you know your brother ate his fruit all by himself without dropping a single piece on the floor! He's such a good eater." "Your sister carried her books back to the shelf all by herself, she's so strong."

Then at night, since I normally put my son to sleep, I tell all his stuffed animals in his crib the good things he did that day. It's a well known fact that we don't believe compliments unless we overhear them between two other parties. Hopefully, my kids will know how great they are and it will erase the self-hypercritical nature that has been genetically inserted in their brains, thanks to me.

I try so hard to not over criticize my twosome. When I was a child I set such high expectations for myself that no matter what I did I felt like I failed. I'd get a 100 on a test, but lament in the fact that I only got a 95 on the quiz a week before. I'd look at my reebok shoes and hate that they weren't nikes.

I want my kids to like themselves, I always envied those who did.

Of course, I found myself criticizing myself tonight by letting myself know I'm pushing the 'words' too hard. My kids don't speak very much, they grunt and point or do sign language. Lily wanted me to read a book to her. I kept saying "read" over and over, and she kept doing the sign for read. I told her to say "read". I could see her getting angry and she kept grunting and pointing. "READ, honey, READ". She finally broke down into tears, threw the book down and sat in my lap. I felt like mud.

I think I'd be a better mom if someone gossiped about me (trust me, not fishing). But when you're all alone in a house, in a city where you don't know anyone, and the only people I talk to all day don't talk back, it gets a bit disheartening.

It's just a phase though, my day will come, and all the gossip I could ever need will be in the form of hand-made birthday and mother's day cards. Can't wait.

Mommy Line: Do not cross

When trying to teach your children discipline, it's impossible to do it all at once. You sort of have to take the most serious offenses and work your way down to the more lax stuff. Today, I had to clean the guest bathroom. Since both of them seem to be in nap refusal mode, I couldn't clean how I like to clean. When they are peacefully asleep. I gathered the necessary items, solvents, paper towels, Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (my fav!) and headed to the bathroom. As soon as I went in both of my children wanted to follow. I said, no, stay out, mama has to clean. They both looked at me as if I was from the moon. They know what I said, and they know what it means. The war had begun. They both ran into the bathroom knocking each other over. NO! OUT! My daughter retreated but my willful son stayed ready for battle.

My sons attempts: Place him outside, comes back in, place him outside, he comes back in. Now, I'm stuck. Once you start something you have to follow through...dang it...should have just waited for my hubby to come home. Round and round we went until the tantrums started. He threw himself down on the floor and sobbed. I was fine with this because now I could start cleaning. Every few minutes he'd get up and take 2 steps in, out he went, arching his back and throwing himself to the ground. More cleaning. 1 step in, out he went, screaming and kicking, he was going to get his way. This went on for the full hour. I was just about to finish up when I saw him get up and run down the hall to the playroom. I won! I won! The battle of wills was over and I felt victorious.

My daughters attempts: She runs away at the first NO! OUT! Then the comedy show begins. Keep in mind I was trying not to burst out laughing at each of these attempts. I had to bury my head into my shoulder, not letting my smile show. She attempted to do the following.

1. Place one foot in

2. Place one hand in

3. Place her head in but leaving all other body parts outside

4. Walk in backwards

5. Crawl in on her stomach

6. Grab her doll and place the doll just inside the doorway

7. Place her stuffed doggie inside around the corner

8. Place 1 finger in

9. Throw her blanket in the door and slowly drag it back out to see if I would notice

10. My favorite. Stand just outside the door with a pacifier in her mouth (a no-no, "crib only" rule) so that I would have to leave the bathroom to come and take it from her. As soon as I popped it out of her mouth she smiled, touched a toe inside and ran off laughing.

My son was trying to get his way while my daughter looked for a loophole. Love it, a future doctor and a lawyer, ladies and gentlemen.

I know I sound overly strict, but I'm big on physical boundaries. It falls just below hitting and biting. Do not cross means do not cross. Do not come into a bathroom is the same command as do not go into the street or do not leave this room. It's important to me that they understand that when I say do not go there, as tempting as it may be, they shouldn't.