Cravings

I'm not pregnant. Aunt Flo decided to come visit me this weekend and I couldn't have been happier. I've had some scary moments over the past week. I have had these cravings that are inexplicable. Ok, maybe not inexplicable because I'm about to explain them.

I walked into the grocery store to grab a few things. I saw the chocolate iced donuts in the bakery. I had to have them. I mean, give them to me now. I don't know how to say iced chocolate donut in spanish so I just aggressively pointed and said "dos por favor". The lady took her time and I tapped my foot. She slowly printed the label and put it on them as I rapped my fingers on the plastic case. Finally she handed them over. I walked around the corner so I could hide what I was about to do from everyone. I opened the container and ate both donuts in about 4 bites. It tasted like sex. Like the good stuff from college. Thank you cuban lady for satisfying my disgusting need for fats and sugars. Pack on some pounds my wimpy figure must have screamed from inside.

Last week I noticed that my husband had bought some beer. I don't really drink much anymore because it can really inconvenience your kids day when mom is sloshing around singing Top 40 songs into a long lego, piss ass drunk instead of passing out graham crackers. But, my husband opened one up and the smell wafted over in my direction. I had to have one. It didn't even taste all that great but I downed two beers in about 10 minutes. I didn't even get buzzed. I realized the beer was a stout and contained mucho complex B vitamins. My thyroid is still on the ape-shit express so I'm guessing my body was telling me it needed help.

Finally, while giving my kids their post-lunch treat I noticed that one of their little crunchies fell on the floor (it's like a baby cheeto). I bent down to pick it up but instead of giving it back to which ever clumsy child dropped it I ate it myself. Then I ate the rest of the can. I ended up drinking 3 bottles of water before bedtime and still got up in the middle of the night and drank another. My body was doing everything possible to flush out another little piece of kidney stone that had broken off from the last one. My kidneys directed me to consume the salt filled treats which then convinced my mouth and arm to heave more water down the pipes.

The human body is an amazing thing. Sometimes if we just listen to what it's telling us it can solve a lot of our health problems. Lately mine has been telling me to take better care of myself and also to slow down a bit. I can't make it through a single day without taking Advil or an Aleve. My kids weigh a ton and I don't know how much longer I can keep up the pace I'm going. Hopefully, I'll listen to my body enough before I end up in traction.

Sigh, men.

I got free gas and a discounted pressure washer from Home Depot because I acted helpless and dumb. Why do men continually fall for this act? And why do I not feel guilty about using it?

As he slowly explained how to screw the hose into the machine, I nodded my head like, OH! is that how you turn clockwise?!? He asked if I thought I would be able to remember to turn the switch to "on" before I pulled the motor cord. I replied that I hoped that I would.

He asked if I had a gas can at the house to fill it up, I replied, it needs gas?!? He filled up the tank and told me to make sure not to open the cap. Then stated, that if I needed more gas to bring it back to him. After all, he didn't want me trying to fill it by myself.

I mentioned that I wish I could find some one to clean my patio for me but all the people I talked to were SO expensive. He applied his discount because I had to do all the work by myself.

When I brought it back he asked if it worked ok. I told him it was very difficult and I didn't think I got the job done within the four hour rental period. He told me to come back again next week and he'll let me borrow it without charge. Gee mister...that would be swell.

How accidents happen

I put my daughter in her car seat. While putting my kids in their car seats, I do my best to solely focus on the task at hand. Too often have I read these horror stories about mom's getting busy and forgetting to buckle them in all the way. They make a sudden stop and some kid goes flying into a windshield (etc. etc.). So, to combat the potential flight of my kids, I make sure I am gung-ho on the fastening.

Meanwhile, my mother in law is holding my son and remembers she needs to go get her purse. She walks back under the covered porch and through the chainlink latch gate to go do that. I'm still sticking my daughter in the car in the meanwhile. A few moments later I hear my mother in law shout my son's name with extreme sharpness. I look over and there he is, 30 feet away from us running at full speed towards the street and I see my mother in law take off into a sprint towards him.

What happened?

You see, this is why mothers have a hard time with others watching their children. It's not that we are crazy psychopaths that hoard our precious children like Gollum's precious ring. We know our kids inside and out and do not expect others to have the same radar. Almost any mother can tell you that the majority of their child's near-death experiences have occurred outside her care. Our husbands, mothers, friends, babysitters are all competent people, they just screw up more than us because they are not used to being mentally committed to the current child task at hand.

When I go into a store, I may be looking at something on the rack but it is with only 2% of my brain. The other 98% is processing what each child is doing at that moment, whether they'll be hungry soon, the creepy looking lady in the parking lot who looked like she wanted them, the probability of a dirty diaper based upon what they ate for lunch and last time pooped and the fastest way out of the store should a melt down occur.

That is why I get so upset when I am focusing all my attention on my daughter and my son is heading towards a street to potentially become road kill. I trusted another human being with his care and got let down.

She had set him down on the ground and watched him run off towards the toys in the backyard. During the couple of seconds it took her to duck into the house and grab her purse, he changed direction and ran towards the backyard gate that she had accidently left open. He charged out the gate, whizzed behind me, and headed out to splat land.

Luckily or should I say, thanks to angels, she came out of the house and heard him running down the drive way (I didn't hear because the car was on). She was able to chase him down and grab him about 3 feet from the asphalt. We both played it off like it was no big deal, everyone's ok, but my heart is still trying to calm down, hours later.

The nanny story: Getting lost

It was a hot hot day here in Miami. It was mid-May and I decided I wanted Wendy's for lunch. We were trying to modify the nap schedule a bit around the house so since my son was looking like he was going to fall asleep standing up, I took him with me to grab some grub. Unlike most children, my kids are not soothed by a moving car. Instead they are hyper-alert pointing out each thing that zooms by their window or whining until I can't take it anymore. The nanny stayed home with my daughter and I took my son for a spin.

We go to Wendy's, get the food and head home. All in all about a 20 minute round trip (I would like to mention that Wendy's is only 1 mile from my house, that is how bad the traffic is here). We get home and I notice the house is empty and the stroller is gone. Obviously they've gone on a walk, I eat my lunch and look at the clock. It's 1 o'clock. I got home at 12:30pm and the new naptime is at 1:30pm.

Hmmm. I think, that means they've been on a walk for at least 30 minutes but possibly 50 mins. That is quite a long time in the heat. My heart started to race a bit wondering, where is my daughter? The next 30 minutes went by in slow motion. I could hear the clock slamming each second, after second, after second. At 1:30, I went and put my son down for his nap because he was practically hanging on my leg begging for his bed. I came back out of the bedroom and just stared out the window.

Thoughts were flying through my head. Did she kidnap her? Did a van pull up and take the both of them? (that does happen here people) Did they not look when crossing the road and get hit? Are the police and the news crews one block over and I don't even know?!?

1:45pm. No sign of anyone. That means they have been outside for at least an hour most likely. The heat index was 105, humidity in the 80% range. There is no way anyone can deal with that type of heat, let alone my baby girl. I start getting enraged. What do I do? Do I call the police? Do I wake up my son and throw him in the car to go on a hunt? By 2pm I'm almost crying. The nanny's shift ended at 2pm. Not only did she know about the 1:30pm naptime, but she definitely knew she was off at 2pm.

I imagined press conferences with me standing on a podium pleading "Whoever has my baby to please return her back to me". I could already feel everyone watching me with doubt, secretly thinking I was the main suspect. I called my husband. He told me to calm down and he was on his way home. I was about to hang up with him when I see her running down the sidewalk pushing my 11 month old daughter's stroller.

I meet her at the back door ready to just explode. She looks me in the eye and says, "oh hello! Are you ok, you look worried?" I snap, "Where the hell have you been! What's going on!" She said, "oh, I've been walking, why are you mad!?!" I look down at my daughter. She is bright red, has sweat dripping from her forehead and is covered in mosquito bites. I look at the nanny and she is also sweating from every inch of her body and breathing heavy.

I lose it. I demand to know what happened, why she was gone for over an hour and a half in this heat, why was she running if nothing was going on etc. etc. She finally gave in and with an explosion of emotion went on this rant about how she got lost and she couldn't find her way home. She tried to call her son to pull up a map so she could get back. She tried to call her husband to come and find her so they could get back. She asked a mailman to escort her in his little square truck so she could get back. She did everything she could think of....except CALL ME.

She said she was afraid if she called me I'd be mad and think she was stupid. I told her I was already mad and I already thinks she's stupid. How do you get lost in a grid. Miami is not like Pearland or some other master planned community. It's parallel and perpendicular streets. Avenues run north and south, Streets run East and West. No cul-de-sacs, no bends, nothing interesting. A gigantic grid. At this point she is sobbing so hard that I can't even understand her.

I grab my daughter, give her cool water, change her clothes, dab hydrocortisone on her bites and put her down in her crib for a nap (that she gladly takes). I come back out to the living room and she is curled up in a ball on the couch. It's not so much she got lost, it's that she didn't call me and then she attempted to lie to me when she finally found her way back.

I start to launch into my "you freaking idiot" speech again but she looks up at me with puppy dog eyes and says,"Please don't hit me!" [Record screech.] WHAT? I would never hit you? Why would you say that?

She went into this hysterical tirade about how her last boss hit her when she did bad things and how her parents hit her when she messed up. It was at this point that I spent the next 30 minutes calming her down and convince her I'm not going to beat her. I comforted her and got her semi-sane before she left for the day. I started feeling sorry for her and questioned my initial reactions. Then my daughter woke up from her nap; sunburned with bites from head to toe. That was the exact moment I realized, the nanny had to go.

Melt my heart.

A friend of a friend had a baby 10 weeks premature. He's doing well but you have got to see this adorable little man.

See little Zach here

oh and I would like to add the "Val" that posts on her blog is not me. I'm not into kidnapping.

Easy Rider

Guess what I saw today. You ready for this?

I was doing the dishes when I saw a nanny running down the sidewalk at break-neck speed. She was pushing a stroller that had no one in it. I thought that was strange.

Let me preface this by saying "having a nanny" is common and the accepted practice here in Miami. In Houston, having a nanny was a luxury that only the wealthy could afford. But here, it's easy, it's affordable (for a singleton infant it's ~$7-8 per hour), and since there is an absence of daycares, it's just what people do.

The first and second generation immigrants are the majority of the nanny working class. They hail mainly from either Cuba or Columbia and serve either the European population, the "white" population, or the Venezuelans. The cast system set up here in Miami is fascinating. This is a world where your country of origin is your label and you wear it proudly. And, you also hate all the other labels. The Columbians hate the Hondurans, the Haitians hate the Jamaicans, the Puerto Ricans hate the Cubans, the Cubans hate everyone, etc. etc. Miami is a true melting pot and going from one street to the next can land you in a whole other world (or country).

I've seen this particular nanny before, she works a few houses down for a Brazilian family. I've never seen the children but I've seen the nanny out in the front yard watering the plants and raking the leaves. She always smiles and waves, I wave back, and then she says something to me in Spanish to which I nod and squint my eyes a bit.

The wife is "typical" Miami. Tight pants (TIGHT), low cut shirt and heels. Her hair is gorgeous and she's normally outside screaming in Portuguese on her cell phone to someone. The dad is also "typical" Miami. He has slicky hair, a thin short sleeve button down shirt, khaki's, and looks mad all the time. They've never been that warm and the dad turned his back on me when I waved once. Most likely, he assumed I was "the help" because I don't dress the White People part, I push children, and I'm friendly. I fit in so much better with "the help" here. They are always pleasant and smiling while the moms are off chattering about ordering them around.

So back to the window. At first I was scared, did she lose a child? Is she/he going to run into traffic? A few minutes later I see her coming back down the street. She is pushing along a littlegirl, probably about 7 years old. In her hand are cookies and a juice box. The nanny is sweating like crazy and this little girl sits and enjoys her snack. I realize what is going on. The nanny has to get to the bus stop and stroll the little girl back to her house. Why walk when you can get a Cuban to push you? Her father must have arranged it. Little girls are put on pedestals here and they know it. I have yet to meet a young girl who treats others with respect. They snap their fingers at their nannies and command toys at the store.

I feel sorry for that little girl, but it's just the culture here. Thank God we'll be out of here before my little one is affected.

Triplet Mom

Somedays when I think I'm spent, I think of this lady that was in our breast feeding multiples class. Before the babies arrived, my husband and I took a slew of classes because I knew I needed all the help I could get. This particular class only had about 6 couples in it. We were all getting to know one another and the teacher told us to stand up and introduce ourselves.

Around we went and then this little short woman sheepishly stood up and said hello with a very thick Indian accent. The teacher asked where her partner was because she seemed to be there by herself. She swallowed, took a breath and said that she and her husband had come over from India. They decided to start a family and opted for in vitro fertilization. She wound up getting pregnant and they found out they were having triplets. Five months into her pregnancy her husband wrote her a note that she found one morning. He had flown back to India because he decided he didn't want to be a father after all. She was left here alone. By alone I mean, they had only been here a few years and they had no network of friends and no family.

All jaws dropped in the class. The teacher put her eyes back in her head and asked if she had any support system. She said no, she didn't know anyone. The teacher said to stay after the class was over and she was going to try to hook her up with some people.

Can you imagine that. You're pregnant, with triplets, your man leaves, you're alone.

On those nights when I was trying not to fall asleep while feeding the little ones at 3am, or wiping the tears from my eyes because the hormones were overtaking me, I would think of that lady. I wonder how she's doing and how she's doing it. I wish I had taken the time to get an email address or something but I was too consumed in what was growing inside of me to think about reaching out to her. I feel ashamed for that.

Wherever you are out there triplet mom...hope all is well...and your husband got hit by a bus.

Christian Haunted House

When I was in 10th grade I was invited to a haunted house. I went along thinking it would be fun. Instead I ended up having one of the strangest experiences of my life. It turned out that this haunted house was not the ordinary scary mummy and chainsaw guy kind, no it was a Christian Haunted House (ooooooo). The haunted house was on a guided tour. Our tour guides were this guy and girl who were very properly dressed in polos and jeans. They walked us from room to room narrating a story that would then play out live in front of us.

This is how it went down:

Girl and guy making out and then they disappear into the dark mugging down like crazy.

Girl finds out she's pregnant

Girl gets an abortion (complete with surgical room and a cabbage patch doll dipped in red paint being ripped from behind the surgical sheet and thrown in the garbage)

Girl gets depressed about abortion

Girl turns to drugs

Girl hates life

Girl kills herself by hanging

Girl goes to hell.

At this point, we all go to hell. Hell is a pretty nasty place filled with red lights, people getting tortured, people screaming and heavy metal music blasting through the background. To me it just looked like a Metallica concert. The people I were with start getting upset and a few girls start looking at the ground and appear distraught. I started wondering when the scary stuff was going to start.

Then we all go to Heaven. The girl doesn't appear in heaven because she was banished to hell for being a slut, committing infanticide, doing drugs and killing herself. We got that message.

So we enter "Heaven" or a gymnasium with hanging white sheets, soft blue lighting, a stair case complete with Jesus standing at the top. The narraters start this fire and brimstone speech about how we are all not worthy to be standing in a room with Jesus and they dared us to look at him and confront all of our earthly sins. Jesus then descends from the staircase and since we are all lined up he drills holes in our eyes with his, walking down the row.

All the people in front of me start crying and blubbering, a few fall to the ground on their knees and the less melodramatic ones just look away, ashamed for their sins. Then he gets to me. My first thought was this cheeseball can't even grow a real beard so he had to paint his on. My second thought is, Jesus did not have blonde hair and blue eyes you caucasian loving Jesus freaks and my last thought was, seriously? He stares me straight in the eye and if you know me you know I don't back down from a challenge. I stare back. I scrunch together my forehead and raise an eyebrow. He stares harder. I keep on keepin' on. He finally gave up and moved to the chick next to me who collapsed in a heap and exclaimed, I'M SORRY.

After Jesus scares the bejesus out of all of our group (sans me). We are led outside to a tent where all these nice looking people are smiling, handing out donuts, OJ and pamphlets. In these pamphlets are the steps on how to become a Christian. I think there were 12. Some leader guy at the front invited everyone to grab a seat and sit down and pray. It was at this time, I looked at my ride and she was standing over by the edge of tent with a angelic smile...and then it hit me. I was freaking tricked into coming to a Christian Haunted House by someone who thought I needed saving.

I looked at all the people around me who were weeping messes confessing that they loved God and needed salvation. I grabbed my free donut and sat in the back. We finally left and I was an hour past my curfew. We had no cell phones back then so I just had to show up late and get my butt chewed out. I tried to show them the pamphlets and explained I was trapped in Hell (and Heaven) but it all sounded too contrived. Sorry Mom and Dad I was late because Jesus was asking us to sign pledge cards. They didn't buy it and I ended up grounded for the next weekend...my birthday weekend. Thanks God.

Why my pedi's love me.

My son woke up yesterday with a fever of 100.1. Ok, yuck, hopefully it will go away. Two doses of Tylenol later it was at 103.1 by bedtime. Give Motrin, hope for the best. He wakes up this morning with a 104.5, hmmm...not so good. He's tugging on his ears and trying to pull his tongue out of his mouth. I look in his throat it's inflammed, red dotted, tonsils swollen and he has no cough. MAN, looks like it's time to do a Saturday doctor visit. I had to make sure it wasn't strep just because I had strep my entire childhood.

These are not fun. Waiting room full of parents on cell phones and kids screaming about. It's first come first serve free-for-all that has some parents lined up outside the door before they even open, kids in their PJs, mom's looking annoyed. I wiggle my way up to the counter, sign in and sit down. I do what I normally do and start getting nosy.

Who has the flu? Who has a cold? Who do I need to keep as far away from as possible? You know all these kids are sick otherwise their parents wouldn't be wasting their Saturdays in this cesspool...or so you would think.

Over an hour passes and people start talking to each other because we're all bored. This is where things get interesting. Mom's start comparing whose child is most sick. "Well, mine's been coughing for a week with a runny nose", "Well mine's been coughing for two weeks with a runny nose and vomiting". I wonder who will hand out the ribbons.

Anyway. By stricking up conversations with this over-paranoid people, I got to play doctor. I figure that Gables Pediatrics now owes me 120 dollars for 4 copay amounts.

Patient #1

The lady next to me has a two month old dozing nicely in her stroller. I ask her what's wrong (b/c I feel bad for any poor 2 month old that is sick). Mom says, "she's congested, she's been congested all week and I'm tired of it." I say, "does she have a fever?" Mom says, "no". I ask her if she is suctioning, using a humidifier and taking her into the bathroom with the shower running. No, no and no. She says, "I've been here twice this week already and she's still stuffy, I've had it." I ask her why she is not doing the things that the doctor has told her to do. Her answer, she cries if I try to suction, I don't want to go buy a humidifier and I don't have time to deal with her when I shower.

My diagnosis: She's stuffy.

My treatment: I instruct her to buy a humidifier, steam her in the shower twice a day, and give proper instructions on how to use saline and suction. I was trained by the respiratory therapists at Texas Children's who told me, when you think you're going to draw blood, you're doing it right.

Patient Response: I'm not going to stick that thing up her nose and they need to figure out how to fix this.

Go home. Get out of my place in line.

Patient #2

A couple with a four month old. Is he not feeling well I ask. The boisterous mom replies that he feels fine but he has this stuff on his head and they have family pictures tomorrow.

My diagnosis: Cradle cap

My treatment: Cradle cap wash available at Target, use a soft bristle brush

Patient response: Cradle cap, I've never heard of that, but whatever it is, it needs to come off today for the pictures.

My response: It won't and there is nothing they can do for you here.

Go home. Get out of my place in line.

Patient #3

5 month old girl. Mom says, ya, she has this rash on her arms and legs. I don't know what it is. I ask, does she have a fever or has she had a fever? Mom says, "no she's fine, I just don't know what this rash is." I look at the mom's ankles.

My diagnosis: Flea bites.

My treatment: Call exterminator, dip your dog, spray the backyard, go to a relatives house until fixed.

Patient response: NO, that's gross, it's a rash I know it.

Go home. Get out of my place in line.

Patient #4

5 year old girl. Mom says she has the flu. I ask, fever? cough? lethargic? No, no and no. Little girl looks up from her Leap Frog and smiles at me. Mom swears she has the flu because a boy in her class had the swine flu.

My diagnosis: Munchausen by proxy

My treatment: Tell her what the flu really looks like and I think her daughter is ok.

Patient response: Disagrees and stays.

Go home! Get out of my place in line!

Dear all pediatricians. I am so sorry you have to deal with these freaking lunatics day in and day out. No wonder my pedi's have liked me. Kids only come in when they are really sick and I take full responsibility for their treatment.

My son ended up being negative for Strep A, Ear Infections, the Flu (even though I told them it was not necessary to test, but hey it's money from the insurance companies), and teething. He just has some nasty virus that has to run it's course. In the meantime, he's miserable and his little tonsils are all swollen. My poor little chipmunk.

The nanny story: Worms

Allow me to preface this post by stating that I try my best not to curse, especially online, however, as you will see, this post is deserving of the words within.

The aforementioned nanny had a bad habit. She would use our bathroom and then forget to flush the toilet. This would annoy me to no end. I would get ready to give my kids a bath and one of them would lift up the toilet seat (a fun game for all toddlers). Inside I'd find the leftovers of a non-flush incident. I would get so angry but did not have the guts to tell her that if she was going to use our bathroom, she needed to use it properly. It was just embarrassing for all parties.

I, myself, have been guilty of such an incident that still will send shivers down my spine when I think about it. We were selling our home in Houston and therefore had tons of people tromping through it on a daily basis. In this instance, my son had just gotten home from the hospital and I was running on about an 4 hours worth of sleep in the past 4 days. We had to keep the twins separated because there is no protective immunity from RSV so they could just keep reinfecting each other back and forth all winter long.

My mom had my daughter on the first floor and I had my son on the 3rd floor. I had just put my son down for a nap and that he was fighting tooth and nail not to take. I realized after I put him down I needed to use the restroom. I crept into our master bath and went #1 and #2 in the potty as quiet as possible because I was not going to wake that child up on my watch. Then the flushing part, grrr, the flush will wake him up, he's right outside the door. Ok, I'll wait until he wakes up and come back and flush.

He woke up a while later, I was able to get some food down him and I had him in the kitchen with me when the phone rang. The realtor was coming by with people. Great (eye roll). I told her they had to come now because it was almost nap time again and I wasn't keeping my sick son up for them. They came right away and I went onto the 1st floor with my mom to stay out of these folks way. They finished touring the house and the husband/wife team was practically running to get out the front door. I stopped them in the entry way and tried to make nice small talk and see if they had any questions. They were like...nope, see ya! and ran out the door. I thought they were rather rude but I went back up to the 3rd floor to get back into my nest with my son. I rounded the corner into my bedroom when I saw the bathroom light on and the toilet lid lifted up. It hit me. Oh. My. God. I had forgotten to flush the toilet when my son woke up.

I felt sick to my stomach in embarrassment. I called our realtor and apologized, I just wanted to erase the last hour from my life. I called my husband and told him the story, almost crying because well, I was still in the I cry at everything mode from their birth. Then I got angry, why the hell were they lifting up my toilet lid. This is my house, did you go through my cabinets too? Who are you people!?!

Anyway, back to the nanny, her not flushing I felt was karma's way of laughing at me and my previous mistake. Fast forward a few months. The nanny has been let go two weeks prior and I'm in my daughters room. I smell a smell. Dirty diaper that fell behind the dresser? no. Dirty child? no. Someone poop in their bed? no. What the hell is that smell?

In my daughters bedroom there is a full bathroom. This house was built in the 1930s and her room used to be the master bedroom way back when. It's a nice little bathroom but we NEVER use it. We have, in fact, decided never to use it because the more you use something the more you have to clean it. There are 3 other bathrooms in this house besides that one so what's the point. I open up the door to the bathroom and take a look around, everything looked normal so I shut the door. Then it hit me. The toilet. The nanny was instructed to never use that bathroom, but what if she did? I crept towards the toilet and lifted the lid.

Inside is a horror that I can hardly describe without feeling sick again. Apparently the nanny had used this toilet and did not flush. Inside, there was nothing but brown/black water, toilet paper and...and...worms. I shit you not. There were fucking worms in the toilet. About 1/2 inch long, squiggling and writhing about in the dark water. I screamed out loud and in my head. I believe my words were oh my God-holy shit-what the fuck. Maybe I was dreaming, maybe I just thought I saw that, maybe this house is still haunted and some poltergeist made me see that when in fact it's a clean toilet. I thought, I'm going to open the lid again and there will be nothing there. I opened the lid and I could see the water splash as one of the worms did a swan dive off the side of the toilet. It was true. There were fucking worms in my fucking toilet. Good God Damn.

I ran and did the only thing I knew to do, I got a bottle of Clorox, dumped it down into the toilet and flushed about 20 times. After I flushed I cloroxed again and again and again. I called my husband and told him to go to the store and just buy out the aisle of clorox and get his ass home. This was an emergency. He turned green as I told him the story and who knows if he lost his lunch at work.

I called our doctor. Scared that the reason my kids had had the runs for months was because she gave them worms. He said, no, most likely the worms crawled up from the sewer because there was a food source for them. This is apparently common in this damn city. All tests were negative but holy shit I haven't been the same since. I did call the nanny and asked her to explain herself and she swears up and down she never used that toilet. But, based on previous behavior, I don't believe one word.

Sorry hun.

At the grocery store today I wheeled the double stroller into the checkout aisle. When shopping with the twins there is only 1 grocery store I will go to and it is 20 minutes away. It's the only one that has aisles and checkout lines wide enough for our stroller. In front of me was a pregnant woman who looked to be about 7 months along. She was making faces at the babes to which I was thankful because I was able to unload the groceries onto the belt without fighting candy bars out of their hands.

When I was pregnant, people would ask me, "is it a boy or a girl". It got to the point that I hated riding in elevators because it was a non-stop question-fest from whomever was on there with me at the time. I would reply, well actually it's one of each. They would reply, twins! and then these would be the following responses. Wow that's neat (these were obviously women without children) or Honey, good luck! (these were obviously women with children). It got to the point that I was so disgusted by these women who tried to put me down. I'm creating life, they should have nothing but nice things to say to me, I would think. Looking back, they were just very practical people who knew much more about life than I did.

So, after she had waved the millionth time to my kids, she looked up at me with her beaming pregnancy glow. She said, I'm having twins too!! I looked up and saw her in her cute Pea in the Pod dress and strappy sandals, her hair freshly blown dry and straightened, and a full face of makeup. I paused and gathered myself before opening my mouth. What do I say to this woman as I stand here in my t-shirt with sweet potatoes on it, my athletic pants, my hair in an unwashed pony tail, and flip flops. Do I tell this woman how it really is? Do I lie? Do I offer advice? I thought back to the days when I was pregnant. It had been a long hard road for me, and judging by her age I stereotyped and assumed the same for her.

I looked down at my twins just in time to see my son reach for a candy bar and my daughter hit him on his nose because she wanted one too. Then, I looked up and said, Congratulations, it's nothing but a blessing. She smiled and went on her merry way. I told the truth, but not the whole truth.

Magic Pills

Don't exist. However, like most first time mom's I used to believe in them. When my son was 5 weeks old, he would not stop fussing. I had to change his onesie and I put him in a red one, he stopped. I made him wear that same onesie for like a week thinking something about it was magical. It wasn't.

My son was a 45 minute napper from about 3 weeks old until he was almost a year old. Every single nap the boy took was only 45 minutes long, then he'd wake up screaming like someone was trying to kill him. I tried every technique in the book. Comforting, patting, ignoring, feeding, almost nothing worked. The only time he would return to finish out a nap was when he was ill or he would be so drop dead tired, he wouldn't fight it anymore and I could lull him back.

I remember one day he cried at 45 minutes. I went into his room ready for "go back to sleep battle take 1 million", when I sneezed. He stopped crying and I put his pacifier back in and he closed his eyes. MY SNEEZE I thought, something about that made him go back to sleep. For the next 2 weeks, I would enter his room when he would wake up and attempt to sneeze. It never worked again.

I swaddled my daughter until she was 10 months old for her naps. I was convinced that if I stopped, she would never sleep. I finally had to stop when she figured out how to undo the lockdown velco straps and got them caught in her hair leading to a screaming fit. She didn't need the swaddle but I was convinced she did.

These are just small examples of my lunacy, but NOTHING compares to my husband. I suppose it has something to do with his baseball background but he is utterly obsessed with magic pills. He thinks that if one thing is done differently or out of sequence the twins will spontaneously combust. As you can guess, his middle name is definitely not "flexible".

When doing a diaper change he will do everything the exact same including a pat on the stomach after he finishes. When putting down for naps, he will place the stuffed animals in the crib in precise order and gets enraged if I put the crib together and accidently put the bunny-bear on the right instead of the left.

During a bad bout with upper teeth coming though, one night we ran out of cherry flavored tylenol and I handed him grape flavored. You could see his face melt when he looked at it. "What is this?!?", I said, "Tylenol", he said, "but ya, but, it's purple. She won't like it, she's going to wake up tonight because she's not used to this taste." He gave it to her anyway. When she woke up crying at 3am (just like she had done the past 4 nights) he turned over in bed and said, see! that damn Tylenol messed her up, why did you buy something different!

So, nights like tonight are never my favorite. We have no hot water. A pipe broke on the other side of the house and they're working on it. I tried to tell my husband to be optimistic because at least we have water tonight (b/c I didn't have it all day today). But alas, he was a wreck, for we had to bathe the kids standing up with wash cloths instead of being submerged in a bathtub.

He's so superstitious, that even though they were not wet from their wipe off, he wrapped them up in a towel and pretended to dry them off before dressing them. When I asked what he was doing, he said, they'll think they had a bath, it'll be ok...as beads of sweat drip from his brow. The kids didn't care, they went to bed just fine, but he's come out here from the living room already asking, are they crying? is everything ok? Sigh.

I'm lucky that he helps me out, I just keep telling myself that. But he's the only man I know that can eat a peanut butter (only!) sandwich for lunch for a month and not care or notice.

The nanny story: An introduction.

When I found out my life was going to get uprooted from all my friends and family, I told my husband that there was no way in hell I was going to take care of two 5 month olds on my own in a town where I didn't know a soul. For moving our new family halfway across the country, my husband agreed that I could get some part-time help during the day to help with the babes. But how to find this person? Couldn't just go off of referrals, we didn't know anyone! So we bit the bullet and went through a nanny agency, paid their ridiculous $2500 up front yearly fee and hired a nanny to help me out for 5 hours a day.

At first this lady was cool. She loved doing activities with the babies and was just so happy all the time. She seemed to like my children a lot more than I did most of the time and I was just happy to have someone who talked back to me. As the months wore on, I realized there was something not quite right. She seemed very childish herself at times and didn't seem like she was all there in the head.

The pivotal point for me came when I walked into the playroom and she was sitting on the floor clutching my daughter to her rocking body, crying. I asked her "What's the matter!", scared that something was dreadfully wrong with my child. She looked up at me with weepy eyes and said, "I feel so sorry for this little girl..." I said, "WHY?!?", still thinking she dropped her on her head or something. She continued, "...because someday this little girl is going to grow up and get married, and she will have to have children that don't like her, and she'll have a husband that hits her, and no one will ever really love her...boohoohoo."

It was at this point where my eyes widened and I slowly took my daughter from her hands and backed away slowly. I told her to take the rest of the day off because she was obviously having a bad day. She came back the next day and said she was sorry for getting so emotional but she was depressed and my children were the only thing that brought her happiness.

This was the start of my spiral into insanity with this woman. I lived in fear that if I fired her, she would do something tragic and I would end up on the news. This story is merely an introduction, there will be more to come later.

Breast Feeding email war.

So I contemplated not posting this because I know what a heated debate breast feeding can be, but then I realized, it's my blog why not?!?

I got into to an internet war with a stranger. Yes, it's stupid, it's pointless and it's pathetic. Shouldn't I be doing more productive things with my time than arguing with a computer screen? I was having a particularly hard day that day and had finally convinced my kids to take a nap so I got a break. I went to open my email and there I found one of the e-newsletters I get for the Miami Mom's. In this e-news letter, another mom had posted a question. Here was the question.

"I'm trying to wean my breast fed daughter (13 months old) to whole milk and it's not going very well. She won't drink the cow milk no matter what I do. Any tips on how to get her to drink?"

I replied with a few tips, such as warming the milk at first, teaching her how to drink out of a straw and if all else fails, don't worry about it and just give her other dairy such as yogurt and cheese.

After my reply a very haughty woman named "kmdc03" replied after me.

kmdc03: "Yikes- you want to switch her from wonderful nutrient dense, enzyme filled, immune system boosting mother's milk, that has small molecules that are easy to digest- and give her cow's milk that has a molecule 20xs the size of mother's milk, and has been heated so there are no useful enzymes and homogenized so that it is extremely difficult to digest, and probably the number one cause of allergies and mucous producing digusting slim- and then you wonder why she doesn't want to drink it? It's not too hard to figure out!!!
Stop being selfish- her body's innate intelligence is telling her NO
And you're not listening to her.
See Weston Price Foundation for correct data. Not the fake information out there."

Being utterly annoyed by this woman now, I sent her a private message that said the following:

Me: a bit harsh don't you think? She's obviously made her decision and was asking for help on getting her daughter to drink cows milk, she wasn't asking for a lecture on long-term breast feeding.

Below you can watch the drama unfold for yourself.

kmdc03: information is help- how can one make an informed decision w/o data?
making sure all children have the best nutrition is a job for all of us, and with the junk that is being sold for "food" it is best if each and everyone of us help.
Making an informed decision reguires having the information to do so. That is what she was asking for.

Me: This lady has made her informed decision and it is her decision to make. She doesn't need women like you out there questioning her moves. Her daughter doesn't need you to save her from horrible cows milk, nor does the mom need your criticism.

kmdc03: I see from your profile you are a doctor. I'm shocked that someone with your training isn't more supportive of breast feeding. The Weston Price Foundation believes children should be breast fed until they chose not to be and it is based on scientific data.

Me: I see from your profile you have a 4 year old son. Let me take a wild guess. You still breast feed him.

kmdc03: I can proudly say I do.

Me: Well, I can proudly say you're a nut. If you read my profile more carefully you would see that I am a cancer biologist. So, unless you think pediatricians and cancer biologists have the same skill set, I can not advocate long-term breast feeding. Even a cancer cell knows it has to leave the primary tumor mass at some point in time and stop suckling blood from it and go find it's own source. You should take note.

kmdc03: Name calling? Modern parenting is responsible for almost all food allergies, obesity, and the decline of our society. What you stand for is not only tearing apart families, but our nation as a whole. My son's body tells him he needs breast milk and I am there to provide it, that is what a mother does for her children.

Me: His body also tells him he want's a hershey bar and cheetos. Do you pop those out too? Are you a one-stop mom grocery shop?

kmdc03: Now you're being ridiculous. I provide his body with nourishment that can not be replicated by animal milk.

Me: Humans are animals.

kmdc03: Of course they are and being animals we nurture our young.

Me: Hamsters eat their young.

kmdc03: I'm not replying anymore and I'm tempted to report you.

Me: By all means do, and I'll report you.

kmdc03: FOR WHAT?

Me: Being stupid.

Well, that was the end of my conversation with kmdc03. Who knows if she will report me or not, but I promise my heart will not be broken if I'm kicked off of the Miami Mom's e-newsletter. I do want to make it clear that I am extremely pro-breast feeding, but I'm anti-stupid. This woman just got under my skin because she was so rude to the first (normal) mom who was basically asking for some sip-cup advice. I'm sure there are all sorts of reasons people can go into on why breast feeding after 1 year of age is all fantastic and stuff but to me, it's just weird. When a child is walking and talking, or can undo the buttons on your shirt themselves, I think it's creepy. Sometimes I think you just have to let go and let your child grow up.

no more.

I had to do it. I had to buy condoms. For the first time in my life. Tonight.

You see, although I love babies, I'm waiting for all my friends to hurry it up and pop some out so I can play with them. As far as having anymore of my own, no thank you. I got a two-for-one special and think I've got it all covered. I love newborns, but I love other people's newborns.

As previously addressed, I have thin-PCOS, so the whole "let's not get pregnant" issue has never really been an issue. If I'm not throwing out any eggies, well then, the chances of a fetus are pretty slim. But something amazing and terrible has happened. Since having my two bundles, my body has decided to repair itself. I did not have a period until exactly 1 year after my kids were born, and since that time I've had one every month. WTF.

Apparently, this is extremely common and it can lead infertile women to start pushing out children like no one's business. I'm sure you've heard similar stories, people go through hell just trying to have the first one and then wham! kid after kid starts appearing. Like that woman who had twins...and then 10 months later had another set of twins (kill me). All unplanned.

Back to my story, so because the "pull and pray" method normally ends up with two lines on a stick, my husband and I decided we need to take action. I tried the pill a few months back with the same result I had pre-babies. Crankiness and depression. It's like a giant black cloud gets pulled over my eyes when I take the pill, I have to convince myself to get out of bed and force myself to smile when something funny is on tv. I hate it. Other options require surgery, which I'm all for, just not on me. I just keep imagining that if I get my tubes tied there is going to be this massive backup of eggs in my fallopian tubes and it will just rupture one day when it can't hold anymore.

I get to the grocery store and my husband text messages me to pick this item up. I text back, no way in hell. He says, how many times have I bought you tampons and tomorrow is my birthday. dammit. At this time I realize I don't have my wedding rings on either. The reason why this is such a big deal is that this is a very hispanic town, and by that measure a very Catholic town. Condoms might has well be hoods that the devil wears on his head. I approach the aisle and there are 3 guys on it. I circle around for a bit until all is clear and I rush to grab them. I get there and there are options. I didn't know there were options. I text my husband, what the hell kind am I supposed to get!?! He texts back anything just not magnums (sorry for that disclosure honey). I grab a box that looks ok. Note that there were only 3 options and they were placed high up on the shelf, so high I had to stand on my tip-toes to reach.

I quickly hide them in my basket under my eggs and laugh at the irony. Then I start searching for checkout people. Old woman. no. Old woman. no. Old man. no. Old woman. no. What the hell do they only employ old women here! Look, young guy. wait no. Old woman. no. Young woman. YES! Ok. I stack up my groceries on the belt and hide the box between my fresh fruit and veggies and cereal boxes. The girl starts scanning and I make eye contact with the floor. She then asks, may I see some ID? I flush instantly because I didn't know you had to have an ID to buy condoms. I scramble it out of my wallet and she said, wow, you look young as she hands it back. Then I realize she was carding me for the 6 pack of beer I was buying for my husband's birthday tomorrow.

Beep Beep Beep, she scans away. I realize there is no one to bag my groceries, woohoo! I run down to the bagging station and start bagging away wishing I had put the condoms further up on the belt. She finishes all the veggies and scans the condoms. Then, she looks at me. Right in the eye, then she glances at my hands. I'm not kidding. She looks back and keeps scanning with judgement in her eye. I reach to grab them and stuff them in a sack when I hear, "Senorita, let me finish". Just then a young bagger guy grabs some veggies and stuffs them in a bag. He pauses as he sees the condoms. He looks at me, smiles, and puts them into their own bag...all alone and hands them to me. Like they do with gum or cokes! As if I would be popping one on some random penis on my way out of the parking lot! I toss the bag as cooly as I can into the basket, pay and then leave as quickly as I could.

I got home and basically threw the bag at my husband, he thought my story was hilarious. I think it's hilarious that the box is going to stay in the bag tonight.

I can FEEL it randomness

Fall is approaching. God I freaking love the fall. It is by far my most favoritist season EVER. With the 1 exception to the month of October because of Ragweed season. But, here in Miami, NO RAGWEED, only cubans. So I am enjoying this October for the first time in years. I wake up and my eyes aren't caked together with nastiness, my nose is clear, and I can actually swallow without waves of pain ripping down the back of my raw throat.

Today, my husband and I took a date day, left the kids with a babysitter and enjoyed some time with one another. We had lunch outside, strolled around the shops (which are all those fancy high-end shops that are rampant in Miami), and got air filters for the air conditioner (ok it couldn't be all fun).

Here, people dress like a million bucks, all the time. Running to the grocery store? Put on your heels and gobs of jewelry. I, dress like a slob. Even when I'm dressed up, I look like a hobo compared to these people. So, I absolutely love the fact that when I go browsing in the stores, no one pays attention to me. I'm still waiting for the day when that scene from Pretty Woman plays out for me. BIG MISTAKE, HUGE.

While shopping I went into one of my favorite children's clothing stores, because if there is one thing I like more than children it's their clothes. So cute, everything. Anyway, I'm browsing the eighty-five dollar sun dress section when I hear, "Hey, hey you're the lady from the park with twins." I turn around and standing there is the only asian person I have seen in this town. I smile warmly and say, yes, you're Alice, how is Raquelle?

Side note. I am awful with names, terrible, so the fact that I nailed this woman's name and her daughters name made me so damn proud I almost exploded.

She said, oh, she's great, I'm so sorry I forgot your name. I said, my name is Val. She said, I'm so embarrassed I'm terrible with names, what were your kids names too? and I smiled politely (and smugly!) that's ok, it's Lily and Zane. She said, right!, sorry.

I gazed at her fresh baby, he's about six weeks old and still at that gum/fist smacking stage where they constantly look like they are licking an ice cream cone. I said, oh my, Jack is getting so big! She said, his name is Peter. BAM. dammit.

My husband was eavesdropping and I looked up to see him snickering because he knows how much I suck at this point. He knew how awful I am with names and how high & mighty I had probably been feeling. Oh well. We bid farewell and strolled over to Pottery Barn Kids, where they just need to hang a sign on the door that says, "All Ye Who Enter Here Shall Feel Inadequate and Poor." Cute stuff, lucky kids.

We enjoyed our date day and I concluded it with passing another kidney stone. Yep. That's right, that brings my total to 6 so far this year. My weewee hole hurts and I'm getting tired of this game.

Tomorrow we're going to head to the pumpkin patch to go pick out Halloween pumpkins. I'm so damn excited. My husband tried to get out of the excursion by informing me that they were selling pumpkins at the grocery store 5 minutes away and there was no real need to travel 45 minutes south to go to an official pumpkin patch. "But honey, the grocery store does not have live chickens and pony's for me the kids to play with." It's this cute little place called The Little Farm and they have all sorts of animals running about the place. I'm sure I will regret this decision as I'm hosing the sheep poop off of my kids when we get home, but I wanna go pet a cow. I miss cows. There aren't any here.

The end of the year is approaching which means Christmas is just that much closer. It's my favorite holiday and sometimes I feel Halloween and Thanksgiving are just practice runs leading up to the big game. Hope everyone is having a great weekend and enjoying their fall.

Lucky

I had run into someone the other day who also knew a baby named Zane. After she threw the comment out there she followed it with "but sadly she didn't make it". I said, "I'm sorry", and the lady said, "yes, she died from SMA." I left the conversation at that and we talked about other things.

Later, I went home and let my fingers do the snooping because I wanted to know who this Zane was and why the sadness.

I found the blog.

Anyone who has healthy children. We are ALL so fortunate.

http://www.sweetbabyzane.com/archives/date/2009/06

I'm scared

Raising a child is so scary. You are in complete control of another life. You are responsible for all of the decisions and some of those decisions can have life/death consequences.

This is why I have such a hard time taking the kids to the park by myself and have only done it twice.

Picture this: My son is on top of this gigantic jungle gym that has a stupid fireman pole installed. From the top to the ground is approximately 7 feet. He has squiggled his way up there and I stand on the steps so I can reach through the bars to grab his clothes. In my meanest mommy voice possible I tell him NO, come here! but he heads towards the gap where the pole is anyway. Meanwhile, my daughter has run to the other side and decided to slide down the slide by herself. She takes a quick look, sees that some idiot has left the gate to the play area open and takes off running towards it. On the other side of this gate is green grass and then one of the busiest streets in Coral Gables.

Mom has to make a decision. Do I let go of my son who has no concept of gravity and pray he doesn't take a header onto the ground snapping his neck? Or do I hang on to him and potentially watch my fearless daughter charge out onto the road into traffic. I'm the only one at the playground, the last [asshole] mom that left, left that gate open.

What would you do in this situation?

Today, I'm on a walk with both of my kids. Although I'm not 100% Montessori in my child rearing beliefs I take a lot from that theory. So, when we go on walks, we walk. No stroller. The kids hold my hands and we circle the block stopping to look at lizards or interesting flowers. Anyway, on our walk, my son decides to throw himself down onto the sidewalk because his shoe is very interesting to look at, and he happens to sit next to a patio palm. Patio palms are spiky little stupid plants that have thorns up to an inch. At the same time, my daughter sees a cat. She's able to break free from my hand and starts off to run across the street to get it. Of course, there is also a car coming.

Mom has to bite the bullet and let go of my son and run after my daughter. She tries to run faster but adrenaline can make any mom super-mom. I reach out and grab her and turn back to my son who is sticking his hand into the plant. I scream NO, which only makes him see that I am no longer holding him and he jumps up to run as well.

Somehow I'm able to scoop up my 22 pound daughter and run after him at the same time because just like the buttered side of bread falling on the floor, a child will always run towards the most dangerous thing possible.

I reach my son in time, about 6 inches from the street and thank the heavens, the driver was actually paying attention enough to slow down. Most drivers now a days are texting with one hand while talking on another cell phone with the other.

By the way. Back at the park, I said a quick prayer and chased after my daughter who was already in the grass on her way to the street. My son grabbed the rail beside the gap and just looked down. My prayer worked. Also helping the situation was the yelling coming from my mouth that distracted him enough to look our way instead of looking at the ground.

I'm ready for age 3 to hit when supposedly they start to learn a little fear. Maybe just a little?

Old school is sometimes a PITA

I love my grandparents and now my children's great-grandparents. I just needed to preface this post with that statement.

It seems that technology has made me extremely lazy. I find it a pain in the ass to download my pictures to Wolf Camera's website, order my prints, pay for them, drive all the way there, pick them up, place them in an envelope, put stamps on it, and mail it to my children's great grandparents. I do it because I know they love seeing pictures of the kiddos.

It is SO much easier to download the pictures directly off my camera, quickly drag and drop the ones I want either into an email or shutterfly and then shoot them off to my parents, in-laws, cousins, friends etc. etc. Or, I just send them an email telling them to check my blog, if they are not already followers of it.

I know old school has it's charm. The days of letter writing are almost gone. There is an art to it that I know I'm slowly losing. While addressing envelopes to send out Halloween cards to all the family people, I realized I had a hard time writing. My letters were squiggly, my hand ached, and then it dawned on me why. I do NOT write anymore! With the exception of a short grocery list, everything I do is either typed out on the computer or into my phone. I had to search for a pen to address the envelopes for 10 minutes!

I feel as if this is a great tragedy and something has gone very wrong. But it hasn't. It's just a sign of the times. The time will come when I don't have to worry about mailing things to my grandparents because they won't be here anymore. So in a sense, I'm telling myself to shut the hell up and just print/mail the pictures. But, on the other hand, it would be nice if they would get an email account.

Where's MY mommy

The internet still hates my computer and I'm convinced there is a conspiracy. The AT&T help line closes at 8:00pm EST, my internet goes out at 7:58pm EST every night.

Being mom is a hard job when you're sick, not to mention when the kids are sick too. Everyone is in a bad mood and the mounds of tissues just seem to pile up in each room. I found myself wishing I had someone to take care of me today. I had put the kids in the stroller to go for a walk hoping that the warm, humid Miami air would help clean out all our sinuses. It did help a bit, but by the time I got home I felt like I had been hit by a freight train. Those kids weigh a lot and so does our stroller. Also, Miami is stupid and they do not have their sidewalks go all the way to the end of the street. So each time you cross a street you have to push the stroller across grass and tree roots.

It's amazing to me how much you need family or friends around you. Even a simple phone call or stopping by the house can easily perk up your day. I remember when I was sick with a terrible case of the flu a few years ago my friend Liz brought me some strawberry cake. It was the most fantastic thing I had ever eaten and made my day of misery much brighter.

When I had lithotripsy done for like the millionth time my friend Jonathan came by my house with food and warm wishes, it makes peeing blood a much nicer experience when you feel loved.

While walking today, I wanted my mommy. I wanted someone to wipe my nose, rub my back and stroke my hair as I was going down for a nap. I made chicken soup for the kids but would have preferred my mom to make it for me instead. I suppose that feeling never goes away and I hope my kids feel the same when they get older. Yet still, I did fine amazing peace today as I laid on the couch with my daughter. She was laying on my chest, unable to nap through snorts and snot, enjoying her hair being stroked and her back getting rubbed. Comforting my sick baby, that's why I love being a mom.

Falling

Today was a bad day. I'll sum it up in my head before I go to sleep tonight as "it wasn't that bad, I'll think of it as a good day" but no amount of optimism is going to fool the left side of my brain. Last night was scary. My husband and I were busy looking at my sons wiener. It is red and a bit bloody so rightfully we are concerned. While wiener-gazing, we left the bath water running as it was filling up their little inflatable bath duck. Just as it hit my brain, hmmm, I probably should not have left that water running, I take a step back to peer down the hall into the bathroom. All I see are flailing legs in the air. My daughter decided to crawl into her bath herself but didn't quite make it all the way. I screamed her name and took off running. I got there just in time to yank her out as her arms thrashed all over the place as she tried to find a way out of the water she was submerged in. This my friends is how kids die. Parents don't pay attention and in an instant, something happens. She fell into her tub.

Today, I prepared lunch. I set up their highchairs like I do day in and day out. Step 1 - rest food on arm of couch. Step 2 - Go wake baby up. Step 3 - Place them in their highchair. Step 4 - Buckle them in and attach tray. Here at Step 4 is where things went horribly wrong. As I set my daughter in her seat, I reached behind her on my left side to grab the seat strap as I fumbled with the bottom strap with my other hand. We have been doing this seat thing for 8 months, 3 times a day, roughly 730 times with just my daughter alone. In those 730 times, nothing eventful has happened. Strap in baby, attach tray, give food, the end. This time however, my daughter looked at the food on the couch and decided that she wanted it NOW. She jumped for it, leaping out of the side of her chair and falling over it to my right. I managed to grab her ankle as her head plummeted towards our spanish tile floors. My ankle grab managed to slow her a bit but she still hit hard with a stomach turning thud. I SCREAMED her name, reminiscent of a Lifetime movie and reached down to grab her. I grabbed her and hugged her to my chest as hard as I could while sitting on the ground. She was crying a cry I had never heard before and it made me cry along with her. I just kept saying I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry over and over. It took all my strength to look at her face because I was afraid of what I was going to see. A huge goose-egg on her brow bone and one on her forehead. Already red and slightly greenish blue. My daughter fell out of her chair.

Tomorrow I have to take my son to Miami Children's Hospital. His right leg is smaller than his left (around). A full inch smaller. Is it lack of muscle development? Is it hip dysplasia? Is it a vessel block? I have no idea and neither did his pediatrician, so onto the experts. I first noticed it at around 12 months. The size difference that is. Then around 13 months he started falling, a lot. When he plays too long, he starts to limp and he looks as if he's in pain. Additionally, his hip pops in and out of place all day long. I hope it's nothing major and will require nothing more than a little physical therapy. I don't want my son to fall anymore.

These things happen, I know that, but it can't take away the pain you feel in your heart when you know your child is hurting. You do everything you know how to do to protect them and then you look away for a second and things happen. Both babies are sleeping peacefully in their cribs tonight, safe and sound. Someday soon though, the day will come (and it's coming!) when they learn how to crawl out of their cribs and fall to the ground. Sigh.

no post

the internet service provider in miami hates my house. It shows it came back on at 3am this morning. Grr.

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.