Sand Between Our Toes

We are at the beach this week. Despite missing my sister and brother-in-law, who are half a continent away starting a new endeavor, we are having a good time.

photo credit: chris

photo credit: chris

Introducing: iPoop

Mira and Ian do not poop daily. This may have something to do with the formula they drink, but that isn't so important. What is important is that while Mira generally goes every two to three days, Ian can hold out for a week or more. It has gotten to the point where Chris and I can not remember who has gone when. This confusion is compounded by our problems remembering who has eaten recently, which one was breastfed last, who got a bottle and what was in it.

These memory problems are not unique to us; I remember commiserating with other mothers when Ada was little, each of us unable to remember which side our babies had nursed on last. Many women resort to reminder pins on their shirts, tape on their bras, and other tricks to remind them.  People with twins suffer this memory problem even more acutely than those with single babies, as two people are often feeding, changing, washing and rocking the babies. Who can remember what happened when?

In response to these problems, and to what we are sure will be thunderous calls for this product, Chris and I have developed a new iPhone application - the iPoop. iPoop lets you simply and easily track when your baby has a bowel movement, as well as when you last bathed her, the timing and duration of naps, breast- and bottle-feedings, and other important yet immensely forgettable moments in your child's day. You'll never again needlessly worry whether your child has gone for too many days without a bowel movement - you'll know whether or not to worry that it has been more than ten days. No more relying on your sleep-impaired memory to tell you if your little dear has nursed from the right side five times in a row, and no more relying on your sense of smell to tell you that it is past time to give the little darling a bath.

Also for use with pets, recalcitrant older children and the constipated.

Well crud, Chris just found an online baby activity tracker. There go our fortune in the making. Good thing I haven't done more than come up with a name.

Mama milk

Things may be falling apart, breastfeeding-wise. Actually, using the word 'breastfeeding' is kind of misleading, given that Mira and Ian generally each get fed directly from the source no more than twice a day, more often once each. Despite not getting a lot of, um, face time with my breasts, the babies are getting a lot of what we refer to as mama milk. As much as I hated pumping when Ada was a baby, I now find it in some ways better than actually breastfeeding directly. When pumping I can generally get out enough milk to feed both twins for one feeding. If I nurse I can feed one of them, and then sometimes that one finishes nursing and still wants more milk. When they were first born they were too small and tired to efficiently get the milk out, so we used bottles a lot. I think this made them lazy where drinking is concerned. Getting the milk out of me is a lot more work for them than getting it out of the bottle, and neither of them is consistently willing to take on that challenge even now.

At the end of this week the twins will be 11 weeks old - almost 3 months. As they sleep less it is harder to find time to pump. Last week I saw my likely future, in which I am alone with the twins during the day and can not pump without all hell breaking loose. Chris had gone in to work and Ian and Mira were both fed when I realized I really needed to pump. I put them both in seats (okay, car seats, as we were camping out at Ellen's house during the heat wave) and set up the pump on the floor. While rocking both car seats (with my feet) I pumped to the sound of the babies wailing. I was so traumatized that I had to take the babies to Target for the air conditioning and in-house Starbucks. Yes, it is kind of funny, if it isn't happening to you. In retrospect, it is even a little funny to me, but only a little because I know I will be living this again soon when Chris goes back to work.

This week I was able to successfully pump with Mira lying near me on the floor gurgling instead of crying. Hopefully I can do this with both kids if I can work out some kind of decent schedule. If I can't, the babies' days of mama milk are going to come to a quick end. Today was the first day that we ran out of milk before the end of the day. I knew this might happen, but at 2 pm when I made the decision to nap instead of pump, it felt like a good choice. At 10 pm it still feels like the right choice.

I actually have a bunch of frozen milk in the fridge, from last month when the milk was flowing freely and I was making more than Ian and Mira could drink. I am not sure why, but I seem to be getting a bit less from pumping these days. This may be just a normal slowdown that happens with longer-term pumping instead of breastfeeding, or it may be a byproduct of me pumping fewer times a day. The latter is likely, since I balance pumping with a desire to leave the house once in a while. We can bust out the frozen milk, but that takes a little prior planning. When one of the babies is hungry and screaming, it is quicker and thus better to mix formula than to defrost frozen milk.

In any case, I am sad about not being able to feed the babies mostly breastmilk, not out of a feeling that it is better (though all things being equal I think it is) but because formula is expensive. Wow, even at Costco prices, it pains me to shell out for something we can get (mostly) for free. (if you don't count the extra I eat to keep things going) And that's another thing - with pumping and nursing I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want. Enormous, greasy sandwiches, handfuls of trail mix at 3 am, nectarines and chocolate bars gobbled or savored. Feeding twins takes a lot of calories, and as someone who loves to eat this is an unexpected side bonus to breastfeeding.

We'll see what happens. For now I still have milk for the babies, and I hope I can continue feeding it to them at least until I go back to work at 6 months. After that who knows whether pumping will get easier or harder once I am away from Ian and Mira a bit more. I am not even sure if my milk will hold out that long. This whole twin thing is an ongoing lesson in giving up control, so why should this be any different?

A Brief Interruption

Nonlinear Papa here with an important public service announcment...

I want to live with
Nonlinear Girl
I could be happy
the rest of my life
with Nonlinear Girl

A taker of pictures
She puns with delight
You see us together
Ten years to the night
My Nonlinear Girl

(insert Neil Young inspired one-note guitar solo)

Happy Anniversary!

Much love,
C

Thanks for all the fun!

Despite being at home with the family instead of living it up at Blogher, it looks like I (or at least the photo of my head) had a great time.

I got to hang out with cool women:

Mayberry with Goon Squad Sarah and Magpie Musing, and with the Bloggess

Mayberry Mom took me all over town. I got cozy with a unicorn's butt, ate cheeseburgers and indian food (this focus on food pictures shows that despite having not met me in person, MM knows me all too well).

More evidence of what a good time my head had are here and here and here. And here.

Thanks!

Edited to add:

Apparently not ALL was joy and glamour for my head. Christy was only able to get one picture before her daughter ate my head. Maybe in retaliation for me spelling her mom's name wrong in a prior post?

No Fiona, NOOOOOOO!

Edited AGAIN to add:
Melissa figured out who the original head on a stick is! The head that Gwen and I found last year is Karen Meg's head! Nice detective work Melissa!

Random quote and unrelated photo(s by Ada) of the week

Photo Credit: Ada

"I'm strangely calm," he told me, laughing. "But then I don't know when I'm not strangely calm."

Calvin Thompkins
Shadow Player: The provocations of Paul Chan

Half right

Ada came running downstairs wrapped in a blanket, yelling, "turkey cold! turkey cold! turkey cold!"

Alighting at the dining room table she declared, "I'm cold like a turkey!"

"Cold like a turkey that's really cold?" Chris asked.

"NO. Cold like a turkey when it's cold."



Well, the kid usually runs hot, but she is right about one thing. She is a turkey.

Random quote and unrelated photo of the week

When fresh, (zucchini) are great tools for self defense; but if you leave them in your pocket or purse for too long, you'll have a smelly mess.

Travis Salig
westsidegardener.com

Open Letter to the Fairies (a guest post from Monkey Boy)

Dear Fairies,

 I would like to know if  you know how fairies get into nutshells?
Also I would like to know how fairies are so tiny?
How are fairies inside nuts?   How can they make beds in nuts?
I would like to say why can fairies fly away so fast?
Fairies: I have a school with lots of other children in it.  Even girls and even boys.  The girls and boys in my school sometimes go outside.  Sometimes when my mom and dad pick me up from school they have something for me to eat.  I have one backyard and I know about fairies, but I never met one.  I would like to say if you would like to get in one of the daffodils in Darrel and Claire’s yard.
And then I would like to say how come we can’t see fairies?


Monkey Boy

Two Month Tales

On Due Dates and Don'ts
The folks posting messages on my local twin group's web site seem to think 8 weeks is a peak of horrible. Can't say I disagree where fussiness and refusal to be pacified are concerned. The problem with pinning my hopes on things getting better in the immediate future is that all the experts' sleep and other milestones are based on weeks after the due date. So this could mean no relief for three weeks or more. This is a bit daunting. Yes, I know this will ease up; unlike with Ada I know this stage will pass. The problem is that I am tired now. (On the up side, I have gotten some good naps when kind friends  have stopped by to walk the babies - Thanks!)

Since We Both Know Preschoolers are Filthy
A woman at the farmers market approached Mira, who was in the stroller. She and her young son looked at Mira, and then the kid reached out and touched Mira''s face. Without asking me first. More importantly, without the mother asking. I know from experience the range of nasty that a four year old can carry around. Please don't touch my child with those hands, unless you are prepared to sit up with a cranky, stuffy-nose baby in three days. Thanks.

Smiles, Everyone Smiles!
Week 8 brought a happy milestone for both Mira and Ian - they both smiled for the first time. Wel, they have smiled before, but only those internal "I feel good with my full belly and cozy cradling" smiles that are nice to see but not related to the kids interacting with us. Early in the week, Chris was holding Mira. She was alert, not hungry, and not fusssy. Ada started cooing and talking to Mira, who rewarded her big sister with big toothless grins. It was great that we saw those smiles together, and even better than Ada was the smiles' recipient. She was thrilled, and it has encouraged her to interact more with her siblings. Thursday afternoon, while I was sitting outside with my feet in the kitty pool, Ian smiled at me. Now that we have reached this milestone, can crawling, talking and driving be far off?

Their Best Trick
I don't know if it is because Ada was pretty much exclusively breast-fed when she was two months old, but Ada was not much of a spitter. We burped her, but my memory is that she rarely spit up. Not so with Ian and Mira - they routinely spit up, whether they have been fed by bottle or breast. This is fine; it is not as if I am wearing fine silks and linens. But. Ian and Mira have somehow figured out that the best place to spit up is down my shirt, between my breasts. It has happened more times than I would like to admit - I burp one of the babies, and do or don't get anything out of them. Then I turn the baby to face me and suddenly: BRAAAP! a big spit-up is sliding down my chest into my bra. Chris laughed when it happened again this morning, saying "I think it is their best trick." Best trick indeed. Let's see who's laughing when then learn to spit up on his pants zipper.

My Number One is Still So Number One
Ada has really been fantastic. The first few weeks were pretty rough, and sure, we still see more than our share of tantrums and difficult behavior. But overall, and given the abrupt change in her circumstances, Ada has been amazing. She loves Ian and Mira (especially Mira, who she favors possibly from some gender-based bond) and enjoys holding them, feeding and bathing them, and offering opinions about why they might be crying. But more importantly, she has shown herself willing to play independently in a way that is fairly new for her. When I need the time to pump or to put the dishes away she jabbers away to her dolls, busts out the pens and stamps, or reads herself books. She still needs (and deserves) a lot of attention, but she has been able to adjust to our changed world, showing a lot of maturity and charm.

Edited to add:
Chris is still the best husband ever. We had a night nurse come for part of the night (more on that later, hopefully) and we both got up with the babies at 2:30. Mira woke up again around 4:30, and he got her fed and back to sleep before bringing her to me in bed and then taking care of Ian. I just left Chris and Mira snuggled up in bed together.

Chris is incredibly kind, much nicer than I am, and about eleven thousand times as patient. All I have on my side of the balance sheet is the good sense to have found him so early in my life.

Long in the Nipple

Today at breakfast Ada said: Your nipples are quite large. It makes you look old.

I'd heard of "long in the tooth" but "long in the nipple" could be my new euphemism of choice.

part of what is aging me

Please Don't Ask That Question

Please - do not ask us how we are sleeping.

Even if you are concerned about us, don't ask.

Even if you think it is a funny little joke for parents of newborns, don't ask.

No really. Don't ask us. Do you really want to hear that we went to bed by 10, exhausted, were up at midnight to feed the twins and back in bed by 1, up again at 3? We did another feeding and then I went downstairs to pump. At 4 I was back upstairs to find Chris up with Ada, who had woken and had a bowel movement in bed. While he helps her clean up, I am with Mira, who has woken up and refuses to be settled, At 4:30 I sink into bed but can't sleep. I listen to my kind husband patiently helping Ada. I worry about how we we will ever get her to break this cycle and listen for noises from Mira and Ian. They'll wake again in an hour and need attention. Then Ada will wake up again and want some too. If we are lucky Chris or I will get a nap sometime later in the day. For me, that nap can be make or break, the difference between whether I function or melt into an emotional puddle.

This is just one night, worse than most, but not as exceptional as I would hope. So unless you really hate us, don't ask how we are sleeping. 

Random quote and unrelated photo of the week

If you still doubt me,
Please be assured that this magazine has a rigorous policy
   of fact checking,
And all the information in this poem has been checked,
And directly verified with me.

Ian Frazier
Lines on the Poet Turning Forty

Happy Birthday Monkey Boy!

One of my favorite kids is five. People are right, time does fly.

Happy birthday kid. We love you. 

Thank You, Mother Nature

Nature is clearly not an entirely benign force, but once in a while we get something so charming that the cruelties can be, if not forgotten, at least momentarily forgiven.

I am not one of those women who revel in infancy. I don't believe all newborns are beautiful. Sure, I love the smell of a baby's head, but give me a soft round 6 month old and I am much more prone to melt than I am when faced with a skinny baby only a month along.

But once in a while... The other night I had one of those moments that stays with you when the memory of infancy's exhaustion and tears fade. Mira was fed and I was rocking her to sleep. She was in that groggy but not quite sleeping state when she suddenly flicked her eyes wide and flashed me a huge grin, complete with a big chortle. It was just a few seconds, but it seemed to last longer than that before her eyes closed and she was really asleep. The moment left me so charmed and elated, even though I knew she was not smiling at me or rewarding me for something I had done. But still, it was a reward, one that at 5 weeks helped tow me into a future where there will be real smiles, not to mention other real joys and challenges. Oh, I do love infancy, as long as it is as truly fleeting as everyone keeps reminding me to remember that it is.

Mira, sleeping during a family walk

In Case You Were Wondering

Three (non-consecutive) hours of sleep is a wildly insufficient amount for a night.


Good thing they are cute.

Ian, with an admirer

Mira, non-plussed that her parents are zombies

(the above was written with one hand while holding Ian so that he'll drop into deep enough sleep that I can lay him in bed, pump and then pass out.)

Proof of Life

At the berry farm last week - 

Ada refused to join us for a family portrait.

But she was there -

Pata-Pata

Today I walked into my local hipster cafe for a decaf americano. I heard a song that was at once familiar and unidentifiable.  As I looked around the cafe I saw staff and patrons bobbing their heads, subtly rocking out. And then I remembered - the pata pata!  This was the song played to accompany a dance I learned in junior high gym class.  I almost laughed out loud; the song, removed from its context as a middle school torture device, was compelling and fun. I have had the song in my head all day. I wonder how many other people who heard it this morning are rehearsing the dance steps to themselves this evening.

The song:

The dance:

or here, but the one with the kids in it feels closer to my childhood experience.

Books for Babies (Thanks!)

A while back my pal Mother-Woman sweetly arranged a virtual baby shower that features book recommendations. (At first I thought it might be weird to write about this myself, but you have to see these book suggestions!)

Having received some cool books from the Mo-Wo family, I am thrilled for ideas from her and the others who participated.

Check them out at:


Cheeseblog
Librarian Mom
Mad Hatter Mommy
Mama without Instructions
Mayberry Mom
Sarah and the Goon Squad

Oh, and Mo, Ada is still talking about when we get to go back to Canada to see you and yours. I told her that it would probably not be this year, but maybe next year we could go back. She is looking forward to showing the twins around. Neko Case not required.

Observations from a Month with Twins

Three children is hard. Twins would be crazy enough, but trying to juggle their needs with those of an older child is fairly impossible. Strangely, in some ways it feels easier than it did when we were new parents. So far I am crying less than I did when Ada was a newborn. (I hate to type that, as I am sure that now I will start crying non-stop, but for now it is the case.)

Even though it it not usually me, someone is always crying. At least it feels that way. The babies cry of course, and Ada is especially sensitive these days. She had a meltdown the other day when she learned that our nice neighbors are moving away. She was crushed because their departure means that their baby chicks will not be viewable on demand. She was really upset, and although I felt sad for her (like all kids her age, she feels things so strongly) I was also charmed by her expression of loss about the baby chicks.

I know that first children are the most photographed, but already I am already seeing how few pictures I am taking of Ian and Mira. It is a little hard to get out the camera to snap one when I am holding the other.  Or holding both. I have only take an few, and pictures of sleeping babies probably get old quickly if you are not their grandparents. We did document the outfit in the photo below, as shortly after she declared that Mira would get all the cute outfits and Ian could not wear them, Ada chose this snappy frock for Ian.

What happens when Ada chooses Ian's outfits

This month I learned that when you tell a lactation consultant that you can pump 6 - 10 oz of milk at a
sitting, you pretty much guarantee that you'll manage only a measly 3 oz while pumping in her office. Then again, I don't usually pump with an audience of family and strangers.

Ada, taking the fairy princess thing very seriously these days

Also this month, Ada is especially hungry for love. This past Saturday Ellen noticed how fast she warmed to a woman she'd never met, which for my usually wary child is unusual. On Sunday some friends stopped by and (after pre-emptively having declared that she did not want to play with them) Ada immediately jumped into Ann's lap and enjoyed the next several hours of Ann's mostly undivided attention. All this reminds me that I have to figure out a way to be warm and welcoming enough to satisfy her more (note, though probably not "entirely"). This can be a real challenge for me, as the whinier and crabbier she gets, the less I am inclined to snuggle her. Even worse, I am sore from nursing and am often holding a baby in some state of non-sleep, neither of which make me want to share my arms or lap with anyone (including the baby). That said, I am trying my best and today felt mostly successful on that score.

And we have had some fun. We have a general rule that we try to attempt one thing a day. Last weekend our one thing was a walk to the waffle window. (This is what it sounds like - walk up, order a waffle at the window and eat your waffle while sitting on the curb or one of the few tables.) Ada declared that she wanted two waffles, but could only get through about 2/3 of the one we got her. (Chris and I ate the rest.) In pleasant 4 year old manner, she made her own fun while we waited for the waffles to cook, climbing around and chatting with strangers.

And speaking of waffles, Ada and I made yeasted waffles for father's day. We let Chris sleep in a little, and when she could stand it no longer, Ada went up to our bedroom to get him up. She was a charming companion while we cooked and played. After breakfast we made a fairy wand together.  All in all, a lovely father's day morning.

Mira, looking a fair bit like Ada did at this point, except with a smile. 

So far the big thing that is keeping our heads above water is food deliveries; our friends and family are bringing us dinners several times a week. If we had to organize things to feed ourselves every night our situation would much more dire. As it is, it is pretty much all we can do to scrounge up leftovers and salad on our non-delivery nights. When Ada, Chris and I do not all eat at the same time, the process takes too much time and bumps into feeding and soothing Mira and Ian. I don't know what we would do without this help.

In my usual fashion, the dinners have inspired in me not only a love for our friends, but also a project. I have snapped pictures of our meals as a reminder of how lucky we are to be the recipients of such support and care.

some of our dinners so far

On Sunday night we got a great dinner from Stephanie that included "hamburger" cupcakes and cookies made to look like french fries. Beautiful and delicious.

 

Random quote and unrelated photo of the week

One feces themed dessert, per person, per day is quite enough.

Heathen Family Revival

You want a piece of me?

A a month or two ago I sent an email to some of the bloggers I've met over the years, asking if they were planning on going to Blogher, and if so if they would help me with a little project.

As I mentioned when the location for Blogher '09 was chosen, I was disappointed that the event would not be in Portland because I could actually see going if I could use my house as base for the twins and all their stuff. Plus, I love Portland and was excited for other women bloggers to love it too. But ok, Blogher will be in Chicago again. As much as I'd like to go, I decided that attending a conference with twin newborns was probably a bad very idea.


Quick digression/background: Last year, while Gwen and I were standing around cursing critiquing people's shoes and muttering about having missed the free alcohol, she found a photo glued to a stick. We asked around, but never found out who was shown smiling on the picture. We dubbed the unknown woman "Gwen's favorite blogger" and carried her around Blogher, taking pictures and using the head on a stick as a prop when chatting with strangers.

Gwen and her favorite blogger on the way to dinner

(not pictured, Debbie barely tolerating our adolescent giggles)

This was for me a great entertainment. I love theme photos. I am the girl who takes a cowboy hat to a party in order to force people to take pictures with it. When Chris and I moved from Chicago to Rhode Island, my friends gave me a home-made Mrs. Potato Head, which I carried with us on the road trip and photographed checking the map, getting her hair done at a salon, and meeting the locals in our new city. (I had plans to dig up these photos and include them in this post, but then I had the babies and all extra time and energy was sucked into a breastfeeding vortex. I will find the photos in a few more years.)

So, in March I emailed a bunch of people to gauge their willingness to take me along, or rather to take a picture of me along, on their trips to Blogher. I didn't ask that they refer to me as their favorite blogger. All I asked is that if they agreed to have me send them my picture on a stick, that they take it with them to Blogher and take pictures of themselves and stick-head me during the conference, around Chicago, or wherever else it seemed like a good idea.

I quickly drafted an email, hit "send" and then got worried.  What if no one agreed to participate? What if no one even responded? What if they hit "delete" before even reading the message? Luckily, just an hour after I wrote the email I found three responses in my inbox. Three amazing, hilarious, creative bloggers had agreed to take me with them to Chicago. A few hours later the lovely Mayberry Mom emailed to say she was in too. I was sad not to meet her last year (her trip was derailed by her daughter's illness) but at least my face will be near hers this year! Then Melissa and Sarah wrote to say they would do it too. Gwen said she'd take me if she decided to make the long drive from the western suburbs to downtown Chicago.

I emailed this group of women for a variety of reasons: some I know in person, others I meet and liked at Blogher '08, while still others have blogs I have enjoyed reading and I took a little leap. Also, I had their emails on file. (I may be adventurous about asking for goofy favors, but I am still lazy.) So, if I didn't email you, it isn't because I don't want your help. I do want your help - if you are going to Blogher and want to bring my head on a stick, comment or email me and I will send you a head on a stick. My plan is to print out photos this week and then wander over to the post office once I have addresses.

I'd love to travel with you if you are going. My head on a stick makes an ideal roommate. It won't snore, won't steal your drink and you can imagine it saying all kinds of complimentary things about your outfits. (I'm nice that way.)

I am excited to see the pictures people take.

If you think you want to participate, let me know. I would really appreciate it. I am anticipating some long months close to home, and it would mean a lot to me to see my photographic likeness making it out and about.

Christy, I noticed your blog says you are going. No pressure.

And, apropos of nothing:

Mira, Ian

Not What Laundering Money Usually Means

Chris, after unsuccessfully looking upstairs and down for his wallet: I still can't find my wallet.

Me: Last time I saw it, it was here (on the mantle). Is it possible that you left it in your pants and I washed it?

Chris: . . .

(returns from upstairs with his wallet, looking a little perturbed)

Chris: Where were the jeans?

Me: They were on the floor with other dirty clothes. I can't be expected to know what is a pile of dirty laundry and what is just jeans you stepped out of at the end of the day. 

Chris: I just never expect anyone to wash my clothes.

(At least he didn't bring up his sweater favorite I shrunk a couple of years ago.)

things I am learning (after 2 weeks with twins)

My very best thoughts and observations are lost, as I think them while nursing or falling asleep, and then can not reconstruct them later when near paper or the computer. Of course, this may be like the thoughts people have while stoned: seemingly brilliant but actually completely mundane, incomprehensible or some combination of the two. 

There are a lot more twins out there than you'd think. Having twins attracts everyone's twin stories, and I now know that Portland is lousy with twins. Fraternal girl twins sat across from us at the lab, the flower delivery guy's wife is a twin, our doctor's nurse had twins and an older daughter...

I look really tired. Even when I feel pretty good I look like shit. I generally do not notice because I am not looking in the mirror a lot these days, but when I do, wow, is it that obvious? Yes, it is.

Why do people feel the need to ask if we are getting sleep? I know it comes from a place of love and concern, but it just feels mean. Of COURSE we are not getting anywhere near enough sleep. Did I mention we have two week old twins living with us?

Mira is way louder than Ian. She is a big snorter, which is charming in a porcine way. Also, she is so far the "dominant" twin in terms of setting the schedule, as she wakes up first, gets fed first and takes a bit more to get back to sleep. We'll see if this pattern holds up over time. 

Yeah, Mira is also the one already poking her sibling in the head. Luckily she has about zero arm strength. (As I type this it seems like the kind of thing Lumpyhead's Mom would write.)

I love my children's doctor. She declared that whatever we wanted to do about feeding the babies would be good as long as it worked for us. Breast, pumping milk for bottles, formula: whatever works for us. Thank you, doc. (Especially after the interaction I had with the lactation consultant, who - on the day I was first engorged - poked me repeatedly in the breast while telling me "the babies aren't going to be able to get milk out of these (jab) hard (jab) breasts (jab jab)." Um, thanks. Because as a sleepless mother of jaundiced twins four days post-partum, I was not already quite hysterical enough.

I can't remember if I mentioned this, but both Ian and Mira were jaundiced at birth, and Ian (deemed at greater risk because of the big bruise on his head, the result of the suction that helped him on his way out of me) was on a biliblanket for the first week. That was annoying, because it tethered him (and us) to the short leash of the blanket. And he glowed blue, which at least had the side benefit of helping Ada figure out which baby was which. At their 2 week check up, the kids were deemed healthy. Both have surpassed their birth weights - Mira is 7lb 4oz and Ian is 7lb 10oz. (Another reason to love their doctor: she is not worried that they are on the low end of the curve weight-wise, recognizing that when you have a bell curve SOMEONE has to be on the low end, and as long as they are healthy - gaining weight, responsive, charming - things are fine.)

My "to do" list grows ever longer, as I can reliably do one thing a day, but I can think of 3 or 4 things to add to the list each day. So far I have successfully not be stressed out about this. Most of the things can (and do) wait. A few things can not, like filling out the paperwork for school or setting up online bill payment for our new credit union. Chris and I move slowly, as if we were walking and thinking in molassas. I am so glad that we have very few places we need to go and little that must be done. Except maybe think of a few birthday gifts for Ada, who will turn 4 at the end of the month. Luckily she keeps reminding us of her pending birthday, so we have no question about who to invite or what kind of cake we should make (the latter is emphatically a strawberry/raspberry/cherry cake).

We are a little behind in dumping pictures from the cameras onto the computer, so this one is from a week ago or more. Not that I am apologizing, just noticing that they already look different from this.

 

Ian is in the pink blanket, Mira has the stripes

Random quote and unrelated photo of the week

 

He told McCaffery, "Look man, we'd probably most of us agree that these are dark times, and stupid ones, but do we need fiction that does nothing but dramatize how dark and stupid everything is?"

D.T. Max
The Unfinished

The Hospital (Ada's Eye View)

Once the babies were born, Ada arrived with her grandparents. Chris let her use the camera. Here is what she captured:

above and below, photos of Ada's "baby" in the hospital bed with me

Really, I am still here

Just over a week into this whole "two new babies" thing I am doing pretty well, but definitely not finding myself with a lot of free time (or hands). We are all adjusting to the new world order, and the twins will do their part by changing things up once we think we have things a little figured out.

The first week's highlights are: Ian has jaundice and needs a bili-blanket. Oh look, Mira has jaundice too. Both get daily blood draws and weigh-ins. These clinic trips are simultaneously the highlight and low-point of our days. At our "mother-baby" appointment a well meaning nurse who could use some improved social skills pokes me repeatedly in the breast while declaring that it will be very hard for the twins to get much milk out of "these hard breasts." She proposes a nursing plan in which I nurse each twin for 10 minutes and then pump for 15 minutes. After feeling sad that my previous efforts were not sufficient to feed the twins (I know it is silly to be sad about this, but you try not to cry when running on such paltry sleep) I agree that this is a good plan.

This nursing/pumping set up does not give me a lot of uninterrupted hours of sleep, but it has allowed me to catch up on issues of the New Yorker.  I have really some really good articles, most of which I will be unable to remember reading within the next week. Also, I am now producing enough milk to feed two kids, but not enough to do that and have any left over. 

I have some pictures, but I have to dump them off the camera, etc.

I have 3/4 of a birth story post, but you know how that is.

I have a million ideas and thoughts filling my head. They either disappear when I get near the computer or I am distracted by the temptations of Weeds Season 3.

I have a couple of posts queued up, but even those have languished. I don't feel much guilt about it, just sort of notice and then move on.

I hope everyone is doing well. We may not return to regularly scheduled programming soon, but someone will be by to check on your drinks soon enough.

Grandparents are going like hotcakes

This is something I wrote a couple of weeks ago when I was getting more sleep and had fewer babies wanting me to hold them all the time. Thanks for all the lovely notes of congratulations. We are all well, if in various stages of crabby exhaustion. I figure that will lift in 2-3 years. 

I was cutting up Ada's pancakes while we talked about the day ahead and what we would do with Ada's grandparents.

Me: Be careful, they might still be hot.

Ada: Grandma and Bunka?

Me: No, the pancakes.

Ada: They aren't.

Me: Grandma and Bunka could be hot. They would be if they ran here.

Chris: Or if they had the heat on in their car.

Ada, clearly amused by our insanity: They don't have a car!

Me: They don't? How will they get here?

Ada: We make them in a pan!

Nonlinear Update

Somewhat belatedly, but happily, I announce that Mira Rae and Ian Calder were born on Friday, May 22.

The short version: Mira showed up shortly after 10am, weighing in at 6.25 pounds. Her brother came out about 40 minutes later, bigger (6.5 pounds) and a bit floppier.  Both babies nursed quickly and were soon enough snuggling with us and cracking jokes. (Ok, maybe nix that last part, but we figure that just as soon as they get the hang of speaking we’ll be hearing some really funny stuff.)

I am working on the long version, but since the above is what people really want to know (heck, even Jiro is texting me to say he’s disappointed that I haven’t posted about this yet) I thought I’d contain my tendency to ramble and share that the babies are here!

This Was Chris' Idea

On Sunday, May 17 I was not in labor (or, as far as I could tell, anywhere near going into labor). Chris asked: do you have a post ready to go when you go into labor?

I didn't, but thought maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to tee up a post. So, if you are reading this, I am having contractions. Real contractions, not the increasingly annoying and sometimes intense but not very productive Braxton-Hicks contractions I have had since somewhere in the second trimester.

The labor and delivery that brought Ada into the world was a fast and thankfully drama-free event. Fast enough that once I went into real labor there was no stopping until 4 hours later Ada appeared. Since last time I got a half day of occasional contractions as "warning" before I went into active labor, now seems like the time to hit "publish post". Of course I could have a very different labor this time, and posting this now could be misleading if the contractions do not lead to a labor that follows the pattern from last time. If so, I suppose that will be another post.

I am pretty excited for labor to start, and by "excited" I mean: looking forward to getting my ankles back, being able to sleep on my back and not waking up every time I have to roll over in bed. Yes, I know that once the twins are out I will be waking up all the time for another reason, but I am hoping that there will be at least that first night post-delivery that we'll all sleep for stretches longer than an hour.

Stay tuned. I will let you know what happens.

All of the above I wrote on Sunday. Today (Thursday) I had another non-stress test in which both twins responded to my contractions with a heart-rate dip each. Everyone (the techs, the doc) say: your twins look great, but... which led the doctor to suggest I go to the hospital for extended monitoring. And then she talked to the perinatologist, who suggested that I go in for a trial of labor instead. 


So I am still going in, but you can ignore the "real contractions" part. Well, until the pitocin kicks in.


Now I am on hold.  

Random quote and unrelated photo of the week

 

His shape is squarish, like a gourmet marshmallow.

Dana Goodyear
Drink Up

Broke My Flash, But Look, Here's A Hospital Bed

Or, 36 weeks, still not in labor 

Um, yeah, not sure how I have done it but my camera's flash isn't working. It is just the camera's built in flash, and it acts like it will flash but then doesn't. It is possible that I have just inadvertently messed with the settings, but a more likely scenario is that I gunked up the works by carrying my camera around in my purse with all the other crap I keep in there (pens, wallet, peanut dust..) Time to bust out (and charge up) the back up camera if we want any non-fuzzy photos of the twins first moments.

All of this is to say: these photos come without the benefit of a flash, and are thus a little blurry. I'd worry more about it but right now we are waiting to have a baby and trying to buy a car.

So, onward to the pictures:

four hats, no waiting

Karen is visiting, so we roped her into the photo-taking. Chris is wearing a hat my parents brought us from Turkey. Ada has on Chris' usual winter hat. My hat is a weird old ribbon and fur hat that looks suspiciously like a brioche. Karen is wearing a straw hat that I will probably use next week if the twins don't show up first.

The belly feels a bit beside the point in this picture, though it continues to be impressive enough to stop traffic and scare children. As I get larger it is harder to motivate to take the ton of pictures really required to get a few good ones. So this will have to do.

About the hat: a stamp inside says it is a Duchess hat made in Italy. Inside the band is a tag reading Created by Mr Theodore, Chicago. No hat close ups today. We took the pictures during the day, but now that it is evening and the light has faded, I won't even attempt to capture the hat alone without a flash. This is probably a good thing, because the hat is a bit stained.

To make up for the pregnancy pictures, I offer the following other picture:

monitor and bed: non-stressful, huh?

This is the bed where I had my first real notable contraction (as in "wow that hurts" painful contraction) while undergoing a non-stress test (NST).  This contraction served as a quick reminder that I do not want to be lying down during labor. It was all I could do to not jump off the bed during the contraction, and it was only six minutes and at its peak maybe a 4 on a 1-10 scale.

Apparently the boy's heart rate dipped during the contraction, though it appears to have bounced back quickly. The dip was worrisome enough to the doc overseeing the NST nurse that she sent me to the hospital for some more monitoring. It wasn't worrying enough for the NST folks to balk when I told them I was going to stop at home first. (Home is between the doctor's office and the hospital, and neither Chris nor I had eaten since breakfast.)

The hospital test was uneventful, and I managed to nap through part of it while Chris sat next to me and worked. I have another routine NST on Thursday, for which I need to bring a lighter book. (I know, who decides to pick up a 1,000 page book days before they go into labor?)

The best part is that if I really had gone into labor or the hospital staff had decided they needed to admit me after the second NST, I would have looked like the most committed employee ever. Usually my office has a weekly meeting on Mondays at 11, but due to some legislative hoo-ha, my bosses were not available until about 12:30. I had asked to be conferenced into the meeting, and took the call as Chris drove me to the hospital. I was fairly sure that the test would be fine, but as we approached the labor and delivery unit I told my colleagues that I needed to get off the call because I'd gotten to the hospital. If I'd had the babies on Monday, I would have been an office legend, working up until moments before the birth. I don't need that kind of fame, but the idea did amuse me for a while.

So there you go, a little post on the weekly belly and a little story about what else my belly did this week.

Nothing to Complain About

Having moved through the fears that surfaced during my early second trimester (that I would give birth to very premature babies, that my family would spend a lot of time in the NICU, that the birth itself would be more of an ordeal than a joyful arrival), I am now in what everyone agrees are the final days of my pregnancy.  Until recently, I got away with a fair amount of normal activity. Once I realized that by napping every day I could still maintain a semi-regular work and life schedule, I kept thing up to a good extent. I took Ada on errands to Trader Joe's, we played in the park, I took my turns dealing with her bath-and-bed routine. Granted there were evenings that found me lying on the couch drinking water and wishing away my aches and pains. But for the most part, I looked and felt like a normal pregnant woman. 

A couple of weeks ago I left normal. The petty annoyances of a twin pregnancy that can blossom into "problems" are creeping up on me, though thankfully without making that transition from hampering to maybe-you-should-go-on-bedrest. One nap is barely enough. I can't bend over at all without wincing in pain. Walking more than a couple of blocks is stressful - I move at a snail's pace, walking makes me have to pee and causes those pesky contractions to pop up. Ditto for standing for more than short spells. (Watering the seedlings for five minutes on Sunday afternoon led to a half-hour of couch time, followed by sitting up without contributing anything to the household other than witty repartee.) I haven't done bath time for over a week, and even the usually mama-focused Ada has figured out that Chris and my sister Karen are way more reliable as playmates and helpers.

In addition, I am now not sleeping for more than an hour at a time. All night I run through the following pattern: sleep, wake, pee, shift pillow positions, huff and puff, lie down, repeat. Oh, and competing for stupidest complaint ever: my ankles and feet are swollen. I lost my ankles about a week back, and a few days ago I noticed my feet were getting puffy. I know that a lot of pregnant women get swollen much earlier in their pregnancies, even with one baby.

To read the newsletters that come with each monthly doctor visit, I should be surprised not to have become a swollen mess much sooner. A good friend recently recounted that she practically burned her pregnancy support hose after she gave birth, while Ellen mentioned that she was pleasantly surprised by how long my body held out during this pregnancy.

I think I am just vain, but the swelling (along with slightly elevated blood pressure) was kind of the last straw in terms of reminding me that I have to stop acting normal, that now is the time to take it very easy. So I have caved. I spent much of Saturday with my feet higher than my heart, and I have moved into a new stage of pregnancy-induced laziness. Or more accurately, pregnancy-induced stillness.

Two people are making this possible: Chris and Karen. Chris has been consistently great during my pregnancy, taking on more than his usual share of childcare, cooking, etc. Even better, we have a relationship in which he has always done a lot in these areas. The change is from pulling his weight to pulling most of mine too. Plus he has been good about telling me to go sit down, lie down, stop fussing about trying to be productive.

Karen came into town last week and immediately became Ada's new love object. She has played "nap" and "camping" uncountable times already, drawn with sidewalk chalk, pretended to be a mama polar bear, read books, made lego cars and taken over bathtime without complaint. Before she got here, she was a little worried that the twins would show up before she did. Once her plane hit the tarmac she started to worry that they wouldn't show up until after she left. While the latter could happen, her visit will still be worthwhile. She has taken the pressure off me to be a fully attentive, active parent of the type that I can not fathom being right now.

I know this won't go on for too much longer, which makes it easier to put up with my current slow lane lifestyle. No doubt, soon Chris and I will both have a lot of work to do, and soon after that Karen will go home. We will miss her. Everyone should have a sister who will come stay and help when you need her.

Random quote and unrelated photo of the week

The problem with playing someone whose default setting is tabula rasa is pretty obvious, and the primary qualification that Dushku brings to the part is that she graduated from the Royal Academy of Cleavage.

Nancy Franklin
Wheedon's World

"You've got to play it up, lady"

My sister is concerned that this picture fails to showcase my belly's true girth. We had some discussion about the best way to take the pictures as she lounged on the couch art directing.

belly: week 35

Photo-realism aside, I'm big. Can't turn over in bed big. Karen keeps bumping into my belly big. Too big to think of another example big. At today's ultrasound, both twins measured at 36 weeks. Though the tech did note that as the the twins get bigger the measurements are less precise, even carrying around two fetuses that are just measuring "on time" is a lot to lug around all day. Not that I am doing a lot of lugging these days. The 3 block walk to the coffee shop was pretty much today's athletic highlight. I keep reminding myself that this is temporary and will change soon.

Can't see the hat, but how's this for impressive belly? Shiny and veiny, no?

Karen helped me organize the 15 tons of baby clothes that friends have given us. It may just be where we are on the hand-me-down train these days, but we now have about 4 times more pairs of infant socks for these two than we had for Ada. That is, twice as many per kid. The newborn clothes are now in three overstuffed drawers, while everything else is in labeled boxes by size. The room is now accessible again, which makes me incredibly happy. (Thanks, Karen!)

Soft brown hat of no special provenance

This hat is new, or was when I bought it. It is a soft brown J. Crew hat that I got ages ago. I used to wear it when I had really short hair, but have not put it on for years.