In a Quandry Re: Clinic Ettiquete

Yes, I'm in a pickle. And it's not baby/fertility/IVF related. Well, not directly related, anyway. And I'm wondering if I was wrong. Did I make a poor decision?

I had an appointment at the fertility clinic today. This was a just a talking appointment, as I wanted to get their thoughts about our situation, and about doing a single embryo transfer.

The doctor we used last time was fine. He was efficient, and obviously successful at what he does. Hence my twins. But I found him to be a little cold and all-business, and a little bit difficult to talk with. So, I made this appointment with his partner, a very nice (and a bit more easy-to-talk to) doctor whom I had seen for a few visits when he was on call.

From the beginning of the appointment, he seemed confused why I was there to see him. Then he asked my why I was seeing him, not his partner. I was taken a little off-guard and said that I didn't particularly care who I saw, first available, etc.

We continued with our previous discussion, and he stopped mid-stream and asked again. So I said, frankly, I wanted to just have a discussion about our case, and I found his partner harder to talk to. That I'd seen him on occasion, and thought he would be good to talk with.

After that, I just felt plain awkward.

Now I'm wondering, what do I do? Frankly, I don't care who I see. I didn't realize I was creating a great faux paux, I certainly don't want to cause a hulabulu. Who do I make my next appointment with? Should I feel awkward when I inevitably see the other doctor at an appointment?

Uggggg. What did I do?

Emotions of BabyMaking

Uggg. Babies are so emotional. I mean, making babies is so emotional. Ooops. Making babies the ART way is so emotional. So much for clarification.

I've been so proud of myself lately. I've approached the thought of having another child with maturity, careful deliberation, and very little emotion. But then I get to my OB/GYN's office today, and it's like freaking waterworks.

Which is why I'm so hesitant to go the IVF route. The emotions of it all, getting tied up in successes and failures. The hormones. Gawd, the hormones.

The visit was pretty much as I'd expected. There's nothing she can really do for me. I'm healthy. My cycles are normal, I ovulated, yaddah yaddah yaddah. There's really only one way to deal with male-factor infertility, and that's at the RE's office.

She did, however, reassure me of a few things. One, that just because I had premature twins, another pregnancy does not automatically mean a high risk pregnancy.

And two, that having a conversation with the RE about the potential success of a single-embryo transfer would definitely be worth my while. My RE practice is the one that she respects the most, the one she thinks is the most thoughtful about their medical practices, and she tells me

According to their 2007 reported results, in my age bracket, the percentage of transfers resulting in singleton live births is 34.5%, but their percentage of pregnancies resulting in twins is 35.9%. I don't dig that. In 2004 (the numbers I had available to reference when we were first trying to get pregnant), they were 46.5% and 25%. I don't dig that either. Why in the world has their rate of singleton live births gone down and twins gone up?

So, I've made an appointment. For a conversation. In December. Whew.

Damnit. I'm back.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Isn't that my story?

I'm reminded of the Dr. Seuss book "Oh The Places You'll Go." It's a favorite with the 3 year old set, and there is a passage that just reminds me of my life right now.

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles cross weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

Yes, I think I'd like another chance.

It came out in conversation the other night. My husband seemed, to me, to be quiet and pensive. So I started hounding him about how he was feeling, what was going on in his head, his level of happiness with our life, etc. etc. All of the horrible things that women do to our men!

Honestly, he's fine. He'd just had a long day. He's a generally happy guy! But when he turned the tables on me, the dissatisfaction reared it's ugly head. And what came out of my mouth was:

"Well, I think I'd really like to have another kid."

Whhhhhhaaaaaatttttttt?

But there it is.

And, like in conversations past, when we'd said that if it happened on it's own, that would be cool, I expressed my lack of desire for more IVF and all that it entails. For two reasons, mostly:

(1) Multiples. Multiples. Multiples. Let me say it again: multiples. I cannot - will not - have twins again. Premature birth. Overwhelming. Mental instability. I could go on and on.

(2) Disappointment. The way we've been going (i.e. no birth control, but obviously not much success), I don't have a lot invested. Thus, when I get my period, I'm slightly sad, but nothing - NOTHING - compared to the overwhelming loss that comes when you've invested your time, money and heart in the procedures.

He surprised me and said that if I wanted to do IVF again, he would support that idea. As long as we "got the show on the road" and did it now. He does not want to wait.

Oh God. Do I want it bad enough?

Perhaps so. I'd tracked my ovulation this month, had the requisitly timed sex, and then had some 'symptoms' of pregnancy this month. And I bought a test. And I took it. And it was negative.

But my brain was working. It made me think I was really pregnant. And I was excited.

I don't know. I'm afraid I'll never know. But, I did make an appointment with my OBGYN for next week. I know she can't do much, but I wanted to talk to her before I go all Crazy Doctor RE on everyone. To make sure I do everything I can possibly do before going the IVF route.

Maybe she'll do a little bloodwork for me? I do miss her!

My Old Lover is Back

Oh my God. I feel like I'm cheating. 

On so many levels. First, I thought this blog was done. Finito. Terminado. But over the past month, I've been lurking around my old blogroll. I excitedly saw that Tertia is expecting a baby. I bought her book. Sunny is pregnant, and with twins! There are a number of "They told me I couldn't conceive on my own" type babies and babies-to-be floating around there on the owners of those blogs.

For awhile, I was just reading. Good stories, sad stories, happy people and those still in waiting. But then, I found myself getting more and more involved. I've been thinking a lot about those "next" babies, analyzing my thoughts about in vitro, etc. and caring about it more than I expected. 

Uh oh. 

I'll admit it ... I have unresolved issues. So, so, so many. I'm not wanting to get into all that just now, but they're pretty run of the mill (so grateful to have twins, but... wouldn't it be nice to just have one. To be pregnant, for a full nine months. To try breastfeeding again. To have a vaginal birth. To be able to run around with just one baby strapped to my chest. Not that I ever strapped both of the twins to me at the same time...wouldn't that have been a sight!)

Now comes the time in a toddler's life, when mom and dad start relaxing. Wow, they feed themselves. They follow basic instructions. They can climb in the car by themselves. Most importantly...they go to preschool three mornings a week! And at this point in a toddler's life, mom and dad might start thinking that this is a good time to bring Jr. a little brother or sister. Imagine, the joys of a two-sibling house, and what fun will be had by all!

About nine months ago, this was quite obviously the thought on the minds of all my friends. I developed a close group of girlfriends when the babies were tiny, and we all had our first child/children about the same time. Three of the five have "fallen pregnant" with their second child (the other two had twins, like me), and two babies have thus been delivered in the past three weeks. One to come later this spring.

Months ago, when my very minor baby pangs started making themselves apparent, I decided these friend's new offspring would provide a litmus test for me. I would feel their growing bellies, quiz them about pregnancy symptoms the second time around, lend them my fabulous and little-worn maternity wardrobe, and finally, hold their newborns and stare thoughtfully into their brand-new faces.

***INTERRUPTION **** BABYSITTER ARRIVING **** Going out to movie with husband!!

Many hours later ...

Back to my test. If, when the babies cry or squirm, I want to give them back to their mommies, perhaps it's a sign that I desire no additional babies. If I just want to love them and squeeze them tighter, maybe I should think twice about this.

I've been about 50/50 thus far, and it scares the crap out of me.

To put it bluntly, I've been stalking my husband in bed, and when I felt the twinge, the mettelschmerz, I pounced. Today, I perused the lower shelf of my medicine cabinet, where I found my old sharps container. I fondled it, I tell you. And a blue vinyl case with the pen and extra needle tips. I got excited. How awful.

I really don't want to do IVF again, and i don't think that will change. But niggling in the back of my mind, is the hope that it just happens on it's own.

Who knows, I'll probably feel different next week. Or not.

Life is Good

If anybody is still checking in (why in the world would you be?), I have a new blog:

http://www.aspiringartistry.typepad.com

I am finally (what, after two years of having children?) finding peace with my life as a mother, a stay-at-home-mother at that. I've struggled with my identity, who am I now? I realize that life comes in stages, and I need to embrace this current one.

So, I'm embracing my creative side, and am enjoying it immensely.

The twins are delightful - two years and full of joy, defiance, and always something new. I am struggling with the questions about more children - my husband would like an answer now, and I'm not prepared to say yes or no definitively, although I am leaning in one direction. 

But we shall see .. I'm embracing life as I know it now.

Closure

Breaking up is hard to do.

Sometimes it's an angry occasion - perhaps you've been cheated on, or maybe betrayed in some unforgivable way. You hurl dishware, or maybe a wedding ring. You yell. You scream. You're mean to each other in the way we shouldn't treat other human beings.

Other times it's sad and devastating. Maybe you've been taken off guard, dumped without warning. Consolation comes in the form of good friends, copious bottles of wine, and many, many pints of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk.

Sometimes it just happens. It's sad, but it's okay for everyone involved. Perhaps a mutual interest or friend that initially drew you together no longer exists. Maybe one of you has accepted a job that's consuming all his time and focus. You treasure the time you spent together, but recognize that it's time to go your separate ways. You'll bump into each other at cocktail parties, and hear news of each other from friends, and you'll certainly Google each other (secretly, of course) to see what's going on in life. It's the happiest of sad endings, but the photo album that you filled with memories of the two of you together still remains on your shelf, and is browsed through frequently.

I had a bit of an epiphany today. The kids were up, dressed, fed, and playing happily in the kitchen. I, on the other hand, was still in my pajamas, still nappy and unkempt. I dreaded knowing that, since J is out of town, I had to take the kids up to my bedroom with me and try to keep them out of the toilet water and somewhat entertained while I attempted to dress and make myself up for the day.

And then I realized what I could do. We marched down to their bedroom, picked out a few special toys, made sure the door to the attached bath was closed, and then I slowly and quietly exited the room and shut the door. I was able to have 10 minutes to myself, and they were fine. Yes, their room was a wreck when I came back, but all was well. They were happy, entertained, and I actually looked and felt pretty good.

They're growing up. They have opinions, MyGirl says "No!" with frequency, and MyBoy is turning into a devastatingly charming little boy. My days and nights focus so much on them, and not on so many of the other sad and scary thoughts that used to fill my mind. Life is good. We are so happy.

I constantly compose posts in my head, yet they never make it to page or screen. This was my journal of want, of waiting, and finally of success. I think it's time for us to move on.

I have some thoughts about another blog, and if you want to know I'll be happy to share with you when the time comes. In some freaky way, I'm addicted to your lives and stories, so if you're on my blogroll, I'll be checking in on you just like I used to.

I wish you all heath and happiness, peace and resolution, and an end to your waiting, whatever it may be for.

Bath Toys

The best toys for children in the tub, recommended (I think) by Emmie. Guarantees many consecutive minutes of concentrated play, pouring water on ones own head and on ones brother's or sister's head.

Originally intended to direct soup into a jar or leftovers into a Tupperware, they also encourage children to try and "catch" the water. Allows mommy to catch a few minutes to peruse a favorite magazine:

The best toy for mommy, sitting next to the tub, trying to simultaneously supervise bath time, encourage hair washing, discourage beating brother/sister over the head with above referenced toy.

Originally intended to support child's neck while sleeping in the car, this wonderful toy also supports Mommy's very important orange juice glass full of wine, keeping it from toppling over into the nearby tub:

An Early Thanksgiving

I belong to a small group at my church, which I've spoken about here in the past. It's a group of women, all under the age of 40. While it is technically a Bible study group, we do some of that, but also read spiritually-focused literature (some fiction, some non-fiction) and have a wonderful tradition of praying for each other's needs, hard times, and thanksgivings.

I am certain that this group, and the prayers and support from each individual woman, played a significant part in the happy fact that I now have two wonderful children. They provided a safe place for me to speak my frustrations at the inability to get pregnant, meet women who'd had similar issues, and support me through my pregnancy and the difficult early months of the twins lives. It's rather amazing, to me, to be on the 'other side' of the infertility issue (certainly not over it), and to be able to provide some support to women who are in the same spot I was just a few years ago.

It was in this group a few weeks ago that we talked about prayer, and specifically, how we pray as individuals. A number of women said that they always pray the Lord's Prayer. Some reverted back to childhood prayers as they lay in bed. And a few of us said that we always start our prayers with our thanksgivings.

In thinking about how I pray, which I must admit is a subject I never gave much thought to, I realized that I also give thanks before I ask for anything, for myself or for others. I suppose it's because I have so much to be thankful for.

In my pre-baby days, I always thanked God for giving me such a wonderful husband and a supportive family, but immediately followed up with a gratuitous and pleading request for children, somehow, somewhere. As time passed, I asked for patience and faith in God, that he knew what was best for our family. Near the end of that particular journey, I desperately pleaded to just make it work, make it work. And if it didn't, to please find me the magic cure to coping with more disappointment.

I find myself overflowing with thanksgivings in my prayers these days. Sure, I still ask for patience (of a different sort) and wisdom to do the best job I possibly can. But more and more, I list all of the wonderful people, situations, and circumstances in my life, and say thank you for showing me what a lucky woman I am.

J was in a serious biking accident a few weeks ago and sustained some really dire injuries. He is on the mend now and should recover okay, but during those early hours after it happened, I thought quite seriously about what my life would be like as a single mother to two young children. Or as a wife to a permanently disabled husband, trying to juggle care for all three. I know there are women out there who never imagined themselves in that situation, but now they are.

Those emotional and practical thoughts that occupied my mind in the wee hours of the morning have now renewed my gratitude. We all have tough times, we all bitch and moan about the things that go wrong, and I do it as much as anyone else.

But I know now, for certain, how very lucky and blessed I am. I hope I will never forget.

Where I Get The Goods

When faced with a new and unfamiliar situation, I turn to research, both qualified and legitimate as well as anecdotal. My experiences with infertility, the exciting (terrifying) news about twins, and then prematurity and all it’s delights led me to books and manuals galore, as well as chick lit type novels for ‘research’ and distraction. And don't forget the fabulous world of Dr. Google, blogs, and every pregnancy/parenting site in existence.

Most recently, the challenges have been toddler-related. Woof … this stuff is tough (of course, when compared to the above challenges, this is a piece of cake, it just draws on reserves I didn’t know I had. And frustrates to no end. But hell, it’s not the threat of perpetual barrenness or the insecurity of leaving your babies in the NICU each night.)

Toddlers times two. Approaching 18-months, these two delights (terrors) are all over the place. Up, down, around, inside, outside, loud, loud, loud. The good is sooooo good, though. The squeals of happiness, the ‘mama’ and ‘dada,’ the mischievous wheels turning in their head as they decide whether to obey or defy. As a pair, they are adorable. They’ve begun playing Ring Around the Rosy, holding hands when we go out, and ‘giving love’ to each other (hugs and squeals, then rolling on the floor).

The challenges are typical, as I understand. MyBoy is clingy beyond description – arms around my legs, head in my lap, and pushing his sister out of my lap. Tantrums happen with great frequency, and his arched back and ear-splitting shouts are like background noise in our house. Early wake-ups (from naps at 2:30, when it used to be 4:00; and in the morning by 6:30, usually 7:30) continue to keep me a bit bleary, and MyBoy pretty cranky. His love/obsession with me, while frustrating, is so endearing that I cannot complain too awfully much – he is so sweet and dear.

My sweet girl is attitude through and through. She’s courageous, defiant, curious, and outspoken, yet pretty easygoing. She loves her daddy, and would rather be with him than anywhere, but isn’t pushy about it. She is obsessed with shoes and socks. When she is prematurely woken by her brother’s siren-like screams, she simply rolls on her back, pulls up her blanket, stares at the ceiling as if to say, “What, again?” She demurely smiles when I come into the room, and just after I pick her up, she’ll look around and ask “Dada? Daaaddy?” While she would sleep in if allowed, she’s been really fussy going to sleep at night.

So I turn to research. For the instruction-manual-type info, I’ve been reading this book, which likens my toddlers to chimpanzees and Cro-Magnan Man (quite accurately, actually!).

For real-life-experience advice, I turn to the ever-present Ask Moxie. I’ve read all about the 18-month sleep regression, the accompanying 18-month grumpy phase, and ever-important controversy on toddler shoes.

And for fun and entertainment, I just finished this book, which just made me giggle. Because everyone needs a good laugh every now and again.

I Do Like Sports, I Swear... Ice Skating and Gymastics.

I am eavesdropping, listening to my husband and Male Buddy have a telephone conversation using words and phrases like "spanktravision" and "can of whoopass."

Yes it's football. But WTF? Do people talk like that in real life? I thought it was just on ESPN.

Ahhh, no. I do remember a phase when "taste it, frat boy" was the phrase of choice.

God help me until football season is over.

Such a Total Dork

I love this thing.

I'll fully admit to being a gadget dork when it comes to cell phones, PDAs, digital cameras and basic computer stuff. I grew up with a gadget dork father (our first computer was a Commodore, maybe, hooked up to a small black and white television), and have managed to keep my gadget-dorkieness under control. I still secretly read product reviews and dream about what it must be like to have the newest, coolest thing (i*Phone, anyone?).

And when one of our gadgets goes on the fritz, I'm first in line to go check out the new ones so that I have a truly justified purchase to make. I don't usually give in to new ones, as the gadgets I covet are typically pretty expensive.

But I gave in on this (and it wasn't really expensive in comparison to, say, a new laptop or something). And I love it!

You talk to it. It makes your shopping/errand list. Press button, and voila! A little list for you to stuff in your wallet along with all of the other lists!

You should have seen me, sitting in my backyard (adjacent to a very busy alley with lots of pedestrian traffic), trying to get this thing to recognize my shopping list:

"Arugula."
"Aaaa ruuuu gaaa laaaa."
"Aa RUUU gela."
"Lettuce."

I can only imagine what the homeless man, digging through the dirty diapers on top of the pile in my trashcan, hoping for a morsel of goodness, must have thought about the crazy lady speaking nonsense into a grey box instead of whipping out a pencil and paper like the rest of the world.

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

In anticipation of a party-filled weekend (it's been so, so long since I've said that. In reality, it's just a cocktail party tonight and an engagement party tomorrow night. We are the hosts, however, for the second one.), I thought it best to do a bit of body-maintenance.

While time is limited during naptime, I thought I could accomplish a brief buffing of the face, removal of nail polish, and repainting of said nails. I took a short, but luxurious bath - including shaving!, and lotioned down my legs and other potentially-exposed body parts.

As I gathered my astringent, nailpolish remover, and nailpolish, I realized I was missing one key tool. Cotton balls or pads.

I searched through the bathroom, high and low, behind all sorts of waaay-expired beauty products, with no luck. But low and behold, on the shelf devoted solely to my lady parts, wedged between the red sharps disposal box and the Clearbl*e Easy Ovulation Monitor (which, yes, I am using), a barely-used package of Kot*x pads.

From first glance, I thought they were pantyliners, as they were so very thin. But upon closer inspection, I discovered they were indeed ultra-thin pads (I was only a consumer of these oh-so-comfortable products after the birth of the babies...I hate them!).

And surprise, surprise. They make remarkably good nail polish remover pads (so absorbent when I practically spilled all over my bed!). A bit rough for the facial astringent, but when in a pinch...

Note to Self

When adorable 16 month-old twins rummage through the pantry for a little something to play with, and then pull out a half used envelope of hot chocolate mix and proceed to sprinkle it all over the floor and themselves, do not, I repeat DO NOT, be too lazy to pull out the vacuum and then use sopping wet paper towels to clean up the powder.

It makes for chocolate babies who thoroughly enjoy licking their own sticky fingers, toes, legs, and arms, as well as all exposed body parts of the other twin.


Edited to add:

Additional note for times when children, no matter what, will not follow you into the bathroom/kitchen/bedroom/car:

A small laser pointer, intended to stupify your felines, is the perfect tool for corraling small toddlers. Follow the red dot...

This Duck is Stuck ...

We have a box of "conversation questions" that sits in our dining room. I'm sure you've seen them - nicely printed square cards, encased in a cool Lucite cube. The questions are usually interesting, and sometimes J & I pull one from the box, and each of us answer it.

A recent question was "What are your top three pet peeves?" I jumped on this one, as I usually have so many that I cannot limit it to just three. But for the sake of the game, I managed to choose my top annoying pet peeves. As follows:

Chewing. People who chew loud.
Not crunchy loud - you just can help making some noise when biting into a crispy potato chip, and I certainly don't begrudge anyone the right to crunch into a taco. I mean mouth noises. You know the noise ... wet, smacking, gooey noises. Gross. I grew up with loud chewers, and refuse to deal with it as an adult.

Diagonal walkers.
When I'm in the car, and I politely stop to allow someone to cross the street (with or without a crosswalk or stop sign), the walker, instead of taking the direct route across the street (straight!), chooses to meaner diagonally from point A to point B. This leisurely stroll results in me, having tried to do something nice, cursing the walker and vowing to never again give right of way to a pedestrian. It's wrong, I know, especially since I myself am I diagonal walker.

Obviously poor grammar/spelling.
Again, I'm sure I've been an offender as well as the offended, but I just can't let it go. Tops on my list are there vs. their, ending sentences with prepositions, and that vs. which.

As we all know (don't we??), you use which following a comma, and that when no comma is used. Wait ... let me pull out my AP Style Manual ... it is quite old (1996), but I'm sure the rules haven't changed ...

Ah ha! It all goes back to essential and non-essential clauses. That is preferred for essential clauses. Do not uses commas for essential clauses. Which is preferred for non-essential clauses. Use commas for a non-essential clause.

Now let me pull out a favorite children's book Duck in the Truck. It has topped our most-read list of late, and each time I read it, I am painfully aware of the following passages:

This is the Duck driving home in a truck.
This is the track which is taking him back.

Teeth grinding ... must continue reading ... children love this book ...

These are the feet which jump the Duck down
into the muck, all yucky and brown.

So my question is, would I be considered totally anal-retentive if I was to correct the grammar in my children's board books??

Help with a Sensitive Issue

There is a tough issue going on in our world, and I could use any thoughts, advice, experience or guidance.

I have a dear old friend who is going through a horrible ordeal, and I'm not sure how to deal with it. She and her husband started trying to conceive not too long after J & I. After two IVFs, PGD, and who knows what else, they were lucky enough to conceive twins.

I found out recently that, due to a condition the parents didn't specify, one of the twins is not going to survive after birth. It will continue to grow in utero, though. They are approximately four months along.

I am devastated for them, and for this horrible trauma, surrounded by the joy of a much-wanted child, they will all have to endure. I cannot stop thinking about how parents deal with a pregnancy that will inevitably have such a sad outcome, while maintaining the excitement about bringing home a healthy child. How do they deal with well-wishers who have no idea? How do they deal with the daily conversations about the pregnancy? How can they create positive memories and have a meaningful experience surrounding the conception and birth, and death, of these children?

I could go on and on, I think about this constantly, and have a hard time speaking about it. I think how it could've been me, and how can someone bear such pain? More to my immediate point, though, is how I can be supportive.

I want to help her celebrate this pregnancy and these children, but I don't know how. I haven't spoken with her since this news, just a very brief email, but I want to be prepared when I do. Someone asked me recently about wanting to get her a gift for the baby, and I gently reminded them that there will be two babies. She will give birth to two babies. And only bring one home.

God, I can't even write this without crying ... I'm so sad for her...

Any thoughts or experiences? I don't want to avoid her out of my own discomfort, and she needs as much love as possible.

Naptimes: Two to One

I thought it would be so easy. So simple, more like when we switched from three naps to two. But this process has been a bit more difficult that I expected, probably because it's a bit too early for them to give up one nap, and because I haven't been as diligent as I should. We started on Monday, July 23, and I suspect we're almost finished with the transition ... one can hope!

Caroline asked for more information about the nap-switch, so I am happy to oblige.

On the two-nap schedule, the twins were waking up around 7 a.m., nap at 9 a.m., nap at 2 p.m., and bedtime around 7 p.m. My goal was to push the morning nap later and later, and shorten the afternoon nap shorter and shorter, until they meet in the middle, more or less (technique courtesy Moxie).

The first day went like this:

Out of bed: 8:00 (what crazy luck!)
Breakfast: 9:00
In bed for nap: 10:30 – 12 noon
Lunch: 12:15
Play, errands, snack, Children’s Museum
Nap in Car: 3:40-4:20
Dinner: 6:00
In bed: 7:30

A week later (July 30), here's how a day went:

Out of bed: 8:00
Breakfast: 8:30
Activity: B&N, pet store (a thwarted attempt at bookstore storytime ended up at the pet store)
Home & snack
In bed for nap: 11-12:30
Lunch: 12:45
Activity: play with grandmom & snack
Nap in bed: 3:45-4:45
Dinner : 5:30
In bed: 7:30

And here's how today (August 17) went:

Out of bed: 8:00
Breakfast: 8:30
Play: 9:00 - 11:30 (snack in their somewhere)
Lunch: 11:30
Nap: 12-2
Snack at 3:30
Dinner at 5:30
Bedtime at 7:30

I had a really hard time enforcing the very short early evening nap, because I so enjoyed the peaceful, quiet time to myself (or do get dinner ready!). I often let them sleep quite a while (4-5:30 or so), which is why I started out just driving them around in the car. That worked quite well when J was out of town for so long, but got old quickly, once someone was expecting an adult dinner!

Luckily, I had a babysitter this morning, who brought her toddler son over, so it helped to keep the kids awake and busy when they would normally be tired. I'm really hoping that today was the big hump they needed to get over it, and that perhaps we'll start having some of those long, luxurious afternoon naps I keep hearing about.

More to come soon: the exciting results of the 15 month checkup (which happened closer to 16 months), and thought about the big 'more babies?' question...

Faking It

Ever since J took his big trip (did I tell you where? That great northern state that is above Canada!), we've tried to take some solo-baby time. Meaning I take one child and he takes the other, and we go about our business. This is usually on the weekend, but occasionally in the late afternoon during the week if he's come home early.


I like to pretend sometimes that I only have one child.


There, I said it. I feel bad for saying it, but it's true. And it's kind of fun - to pretend to live like everyone else does. Like my friends do. Oh, I have fifteen errands to run, but it's no big deal because my ONE BABY is really easy and happy, and I can just pop him/her out of the car seat and go into a store without a stroller! (If I did go in with a double stroller and just one child, it might look kinda funny, right?)

So last week I was determined to Get Stuff Done Outside The House. With a child. Which is something I don't usually try to do, because between food, schedules, strollers, and gear, it can be fairly overwhelming.

I first took MyBoy out for errand time. He was wonderful - peaceful and happy, always smiling and looking around, pointing and grunting as he does. And we got so much done, but by the end, I was lagging. That child is heavy, waaaaay heavy, and he doesn't hold on with his legs, so it's basically like toting a bag of lard around on your hip.

The next time, I took MyGirl, thinking hey, this chick is tiny and light, with the grip of a vice. And she was equally as delightful, plus more. The girl was so happy to be out alone with me, and was entranced with everything she saw, everyone that paid attention to her, pretty much everything. And she wanted to touch it, feel it, eat it, pull it, or poke it.

On our girl's day, I was out to look for a few cute new outfits to take on my upcoming Girl's Weekend. We went from boutique to boutique and I had more and more trouble trying to keep her contained, especially in the dressing room. We ended up exiting all the cute stores rather quickly, and guess where we ended up?

The regular backup shopping excursion...Target. Might as well have had both babes with me!

A Very Long Two-Week Wait

I’m feeling victorious.

Three weeks ago, I was full of dread and angst as my husband began packing for a two-week adventure. Without me. Without the twins.

Which of course means that we would be left here to fend for ourselves. Now, I’m used to taking care of the kids by myself during the day, but I really look forward to the evening when J comes home and plays with the kids while I make dinner. And, obviously, the adult companionship and such.

It was a hard two weeks, but we managed by doing things that were different and keeping busy. We went to a friend’s house for dinner, visited practically every park in the area, and went to the zoo. Surprisingly, it was a fairly solitary few weeks in that visits from my mom were noticeably absent, our regular playgroup was cancelled, and lots of friends seemed to be out of town. However, I did manage to get a sitter a few times to have a girl’s night out and attend a few meetings. Oh, and we made it to church.

I was surprised at how little I actually got accomplished, for myself. My time was simply spent maintaining the existing atmosphere as opposed to starting/completing new projects. More time cleaning, doing laundry, cooking, and stuff like that. I fell into bed exhausted, and quite early, each and every night.

I did read a few books, which I haven’t been able to do lately, and have semi-accomplished a big task for the twins.

They are starting a two-morning-a-week preschool in the fall, and I’ve been paranoid about their naptime. They don’t adapt well to schedule changes, so I know that can’t just show up in September and expect them to be fine without a morning nap.

So my goal while J was gone was to start the transition to one nap a day. Previously, naps were at 9 & 2, each for about 1 ½ - 2 hours. I’ve gradually started pushing that morning nap further and further, and now they’re going down at 11. As that first nap started getting later and later, the second nap was to get shorter and shorter. So my plan was to exhaust them during the afternoon (hence all the playground/park trips) and then let them have a 30-40 minute nap around 4:00 or so. Since we were usually out and about, I just let them have that nap in the car as we drove home or just drove around listening to music.

It was going really well, until J got home. Now, they’re still going down for nap at 11, but the afternoons have been really quite horrible and I can’t figure out why. Yesterday, they wouldn’t take an afternoon nap, stayed up happily at a friend’s house until 9:00 p.m. (unheard of!), and still woke up at 7:00 a.m.!! Luckily, we’ve still got about three weeks to get it all worked out before school starts … I really think it’ll be fine.

It was, all in all, a really challenging two weeks, and I thought often about the women for whom this is just a fact of life, not a blip in their schedule. We women are strong, aren’t we? I wonder how men would handle being alone with two children for 14 days straight?

J won’t have the chance for two full weeks, but will get to try his hand at it this weekend, as I take off for a much-anticipated girl’s weekend!

What We Love

We love this book. "We" being MyBoy and MyGirl. I, on the other hand, am sick to death of it. They bring me this book every naptime, every time we play in their room, every bedtime. They will cry and scream and protest, unless I read it through. Many, many times over.

“This baby wants her mommy … ma ma!” “This baby is hungry … yum yum!” "This baby is hiding ..... peekaboo!" “This mama wants a break … yahoo!”

As the pages are slowly disintegrating, and are dutifully repaired with white duct tape, I realize ( hope! ) that perhaps it will one day be unrepairable. Because we have many, many more baby-picture books waiting in the wings.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

MyGirl and MyBoy are getting very good at following some basic instructions. I almost can't believe that they actually understand me ... it's like I thought they'd be infantile forever.

They can touch their noses, clap their hands, "wash" their hair, find their belly and a few other things. Amazingly, I thought it was great that they can take their wrapped up diapers to the diaper pail (the non-poopy ones, of course).

Until this:

While I wish that they had just put their wrapped-up diapers in the Diaper Champ, it was not so. It was sippy cup and Green Frog. Nice.

Two Evils?

Wow. The 11 a.m. viewing hour in my area has two main network choices: Rachel Ray or The View. I'm usually not watching television at this hour, but due to our nap-in-flux schedule, I've found myself checking email, doing dishes, folding laundry, getting lunch prepared, or something equally thrilling.

I started watching RR when the babes were little, and they had an 11 a.m. feeding. They'd be propped in their bouncy seats, me perched in between with a bottle in each hand. Enjoying 20 minutes or so of uninterrupted gab and cooking. I immediately started to tire of RR and her bountiful enthusiasm for, like, everything!! Including her dog! Oprah! EVOO! Yum-o, everyone!

Now I've never watched The View. I never understood why Bawbwa Wawa annoyed so many people, why Rosie was good/moderately bad/evil, and what the heck is up with Elizabeth?

I sit here trying out The View, and poor Martin Sheen is plopped down in the middle of four catty, catty ladies, looking every bit as uncomfortable as I'm sure he feels. I can't watch .... what are these women even talking about?...It just sounds like blah, blah, blah, blah.

Ugg. Back to RR. Ohh... cute {but dead} guy from Grey's Anatomy. And Weeds. Yum-o!