Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

Jesus died for our sins. All R. L. Stine did was make a book for us. That's the big difference.

Edwin (quoted by Rachel Aviv)
Like I Was Jesus

4 Months - Is it possible the trenches are getting less muddy?

All those well-wishers might actually be right
You know how everyone always says "it will get easier" and no matter how much you want to believe them you don't really feel it? That is, until it starts to get a little easier, which maybe it has. Life is still crazy, but we sleep for slightly longer stretches (and would more if Ian hadn't responded to sleep training with a giant infant "screw you" (suddenly deciding to wake a midnight after weeks of sleeping until 3am). Also, now that they have shown themselves ready for some more consistent nap scheduling, the babies are more fun to be around when they are awake.  

Earlier this month my mother came to visit for two weeks to help me deal with the transition from having Chris around all the time to being with the kids without him. I learned that the problem is not so much being alone with the babies (though this is a challenge as at 3 months they were not yet sleep trained and thus not napping on their own) but being with the babies and Ada. Even when there is a second adult in the mix this is hard, and when I am with her and the babies I often end up in tears. This is fantastic for all parties concerned. Can't really respond to Ada's "Mama, why are you sad?" with "because you are driving me up a wall, kid."

Also earlier this month Ada got sick, which meant the babies got sick and finally I got sick. Chris managed to dodge the illness, but I licked his pillow and all the coffee mugs, so we'll see what happens. We also traveled to San Francisco for our friends' wedding. While I can now say that traveling with twin infants is possible and maybe even worthwhile, it is certainly not easy. People were very nice about the babies, from the flight attendant who (without me asking her to) reseated my cross-aisle neighbor so that Chris could sit by me, to the car rental woman who took one look at our babies and upgraded us to a bigger car. Or maybe she was looking at our pile of bags and crap. For a two day trip we had two checked bags, a breast pump, a double stroller (plus two car seats), a diaper bag and a purse. As crazy as it sounds for such a short trip, the stroller was totally worth bringing. We stayed in the Mission, where parking is iffy and strolling the carseats to the car and back was way better than shlepping them by hand. And speaking of nice, our brother-in-law Anthony gave up his apartment to us and camped out at a neighbor's while we were in town, which was especially kind given how busy he was that weekend. (He catered the night-before the wedding party.)

I got carried away
While my mother was here I hired a mother's helper, to deal with the fact that I have two arms and one (tired) back, which is not enough body to carry around two 15 pound babies. I put an ad on Craigslist that got me a ton of responses, from a 13 year old girl to women with masters degrees and decades of infant care experience. (If I needed evidence of the impact of our crappy economy, I got it in the education level of some applicants.) Also, after we saw a woman wearing one while we were out to lunch, my mom got me a great new sling. This brings our baby conveyances up to 6 carriers and 4 strollers. (Chris has a sling and a baby bjorn and I have 2 slings, a borrowed moby wrap and an ergo carrier.)  This new one is a maya-wrap type made by an outfit in Los Angeles that makes their slings with great fabrics. Mine is a black and cream bamboo print with red on the reverse. Mira is sleeping in it as I type.

I can see you, and I know what you do (with apologies to Devo)
And where's Ian? Lying on a play mat, holding on to one toy while kicking another with his feet. Earlier this month the babies figured out that they could use those things at the end of their arms to grab and hit things, and wow was that a fun revelation for them. My mom, on seeing Ian do this: "I think he's very talented." No doubt.

Ian and Mira also finally started to really notice one another. Or rather, Ian finally started to notice Mira, and she responded by looking at him again. For a while at about 3 months, Mira was interested in Ian, who was oblivious to the attention. After repeated failed attempts to get his attention, Mira noticed she was getting nowhere with Ian and stopped trying to catch his eye. A couple of weeks later they both simultaneously turned to one another and liked what they saw. Much cooing and giggling ensued. The rest of us are highly amused by this and now place them face to face whenever we can. I found some used bumbo seats and sit them facing one another in them. Hey, it is adorable and if it buys us 5 uninterrupted minutes to eat breakfast, all the better.

Ian's hand-chewing is hilarious to Mira...

...that is, until she realizes he is a one-note

I spent the past month crossing the days off in anticipation of reaching Ian and Mira's 4 month mark. Then on Friday I realized we could just as well start sleep training them now instead of waiting for their actual anniversary date. We trained Ada with the "extinction" method (put the drowsy baby in bed and walk away, letting her cry for 45 minutes or until she gives up and goes to sleep). This worked well for her, and we "chose" this method in response to her having cried for HOURS in our arms. There is nothing like being inches from a writhing, screaming baby for extended periods to make sleep training seem like the easy choice. With Ian and Mira, we did not have the motivation of ceaseless crying. Wanting the babies to be able to soothe themselves, we have been using a less intense version of sleep training. Get the baby calm and droopy, place her in bed and then leave after snuggling and patting and all that. If the baby cries, wait five minutes before returning and doing whatever you have to calm her (including picking her up, rocking her, shushing, etc). Then put the once-again droopy baby back in bed. Now wait 10 minutes before responding to her cries. Then 15. The first night Mira fell asleep during the 10 minute round, Ian during the 15 minute. By the third night neither baby cried at all when put in bed. They just mootched around a bit and went to sleep. No doubt they are just setting us up for a fall. I hear twins like to conspire like that.

One important note on sleep training is that any success we are having is thanks to Chris. He is so much better at saying "hey, let's try this" without getting locked into what we have been doing and what could happen and and and. Before trying anything new I have to wring my hands and discuss options and fret a lot. I'm not saying I'm a failure as a parent, but Chris is so much better at this kind of parental problem solving than I am. It almost makes up for his tendency to leave his dirty socks around the house.

Thankfully, No
The other day Mira and I were at our local play space/swap group when I ran into a woman I'd met there before. She cooed at Mira and noted that the last time she'd seen me I had been pregnant. I said something like, well, I was pretty big, since I was carrying two. She looked at Mira and then looked stricken.

"Did the other one not make it?" she asked.

"No, he's with his father," I said, to her visible relief.

My first thought was that her question was an odd (and very Portland-y overly intimate) thing to say, but Chris reminded me of someone he knows who did suffer the loss of one of his twins. I think I have blocked out the memory of this man and his wife, both because it is scary to think about such things happening, but also because thinking of them reminds me that I was at one time jealous of them.
During one of our failed rounds of IVF we ran into this couple at the clinic. When Chris later told me that the wife was pregnant with twins, I felt sorry for myself, knowing we'd been going through the same thing at the same time. Now I wonder whether the woman might think of us and feel that same sadness. From my current vantage point, her loss seems immeasurably harder than mine, but thinking that does nothing for either of us.

I am not sure what I want to say about this. Maybe I'd better just go kiss my babies.

** * ** * ** * **

Overall, this month was a series of moments in which I was despondent followed by elated followed by despondent... Karen has reminded me that any moment is just that, and that I can expect a happy feeling to be followed by a hard one, and vice versa. Knowing this does not make those hard moments much easier to bear, but neither does it much dampen the good moments either.

In your face, Slovenia!

My mom sent me this video about the USA's rank (37) in the World Health Organization's ranking of countries' health systems. Sigh. Guess there is still work to be done, huh?

(To my British and Canadian friends: STOP LAUGHING. Some of us are trying, really.)

I am not a shill (f)or a clown

(or: it is posts like this that may explain why I don't get a lot of offers from marketers)

I recently got an email from a marketing rep. inviting me to an event hosted by Ringling Brothers/Barnum and Bailey (you know, the circus people), targeting "mommy bloggers". The deal was: free pedicures and a chance to mix with the circus elephants.

At the time it seemed like a good idea to check it out. Tuesday was my first day with a new mother's helper and all three kids, and I did not have anything planned with which to distract Ada. When Ada gets bored, things go south quickly. So, despite my misgivings about mentioning to this new helper that I am apparently the target market for a mom blogger event (not to mention my pride at accepting an invite at the last minute), we all piled in the car to see the elephants.

The invitation did not note where exactly the event would be held. The email said "the Rose Garden" (the sports arena where the Trailblazers play) but did not mention exactly where in this vast sports and parking complex we should go. No problem, your intrepid mommy blogger played up this uncertainty as an adventure and Ada actually went along with my cheerful subterfuge.

I love me some clown shoes

When we figured out where to go (we followed the clowns) the marketing executive recognized me right away (I'd written to her about shlepping my 3 kids along) and offered Ada a clown nose and circus coloring book. For her part, Ada only brightened up when she realized there were juice boxes and cookies for the taking. She wasn't entirely sure about the friendly clown who tried to chat her up. I think she doubted he was telling the truth about having a 5 year old son. She gave him a look that suggested she doubted whether clowns can really have children. I'll admit that I kind of wondered about this myself.

When it got close to time for the elephant to make an appearance, several protesters appeared with signs that read "Barnum Beats Elephants." I don't know the veracity of this claim, but the whole rest of the time I kept flashing to scenes from the novel Water for Elephants. I also recalled that Sarah had written about why she would not be taking her kids to the circus. No actual beating occurred in my presence and actually the elephant trainer seemed nice and interested in answering questions about the herd of Asian elephants it keeps. Frankly, I probably would have cared more about the protestors if they had not been holding PETA signs. I mean, I eat meat and wear leather shoes and have a family zoo membership, but I do care about animals getting beaten. But PETA has not won my heart with some of their tactics and campaigns (the whole holocaust campaign, for one). Nonetheless I felt my enthusiasm for the whole circus elephant show wane. It didn't help that it was very warm and sunny and Ian was squirmy in my arms. A lifelong vegetarian, he apparently doesn't like animal shows either.

 

She was a cute elephant, and a big fan of watermelon

So let's just say that I am not planning on going to the circus this weekend. It is maybe a little because I am squicked that the marketing firm tried to buy cheap press from mommy bloggers for the price of some pedicures and juice boxes, and a little because the circus animal thing is a little worrisome, even if I am not yet totally convinced by PETA. I'm sure Ada would have a good time, but I think I'd be uncomfortable and unhappy and oh who knows, we just won't be going.

Actually, I am only a little bothered by the marketers. That's their job, right, even if they do it sort of transparently. But I was really squicked by a posting from another mom who'd been invited. I won't link to her post because I don't know her and don't want to be (too) rude. But seeing her post about her efforts of the past year to social market her ass off and how this was her reward and evidence of what a good blogger she was, it made me question why I went at all. I hope this other woman enjoyed the pedicure and cookies.

Oh, and I didn't end up getting a pedicure. It was too hot in the sun and Ian and Mira were too squirrelly to make it worth waiting for, free or not. The elephant did get one though, and I can say that her toenails now probably look a bit better than mine.

(I was totally amused that the snack table included a bowl of circus animal cookies. THAT was funny. It almost made up for the fact that the email inaccurately noted there would be "elephants" with an S. Maybe they were counting the ones in the cookies.)

Walk the Walk

Did anyone else read this article? It is about how many parents won't allow their children to walk to school (or other places), even when the walk is as short as a block or two. Included in the article is a bit about a mom who let her 10 year old son walk a mile to soccer practice. Not only did several people call 911 to report a child walking alone, but the officer who found the kid drove him to the park (before chewing out the mom). I'm knocked out that (a) multiple people found the sight of a kid walking alone worrisome enough to report it to police, and (b) they called 911, the emergency number. The kid was 10, not 4.

This article busts into the fantasy I have had since we moved to this house that my children will get to walk themselves to school. We live 5 blocks from our local elementary. Of course I will be walking Ada to kindergarten, but will I be expected to walk her to and from school until she graduates from 8th grade? When Ian and Mira are ready for kindergarten Ada will be entering 4th grade. At what point can she escort them without me along for the stroll? Why couldn't a 4th grader walk her younger siblings to school?

The other thing that really bugs me is that refusing to let kids walk to local schools is an environmental nightmare. The article may have picked out really extreme cases to make a point about modern, fear-based parenting, but wow. A mom let her kid walk the five houses to a friend's place, only to have the kid driven home at the end of the play-date. Really? Driven? The host mom was what - too busy? Too lazy? to walk the length of five houses? (ok, so she could have dropped her off on her way to the grocery store, but really - five houses away?) All these parents who drive their children to school because they are afraid to let them walk are contributing to greenhouse gases out of fear that something will happen if they don't.

As a kid I walked to my best friend's house, which was 5 blocks away. But we also had the freedom to wander the neighborhood, from the residential streets right around our houses to the busy business strip near by and the even busier corner with the convenience store. I wasn't wandering the sidewalks alone at 5 or 6, but by 10 I had a fair measure of freedom. And - I lived in Los Angeles, not exactly small town America. Not to mention that my parents were pretty strict when compared with many of my friends and classmates.

Where you live, do kids walk to school? Do you consider it safe for children to walk alone to the park or school? How old is old enough to walk alone? How far is close enough?

Sympathy for the Papa

Ada: Do you want a nap?

Me: Yes.

Ada: Why?

Me: Because the babies wake up every few hours and need to eat. So Papa and I need to change their diapers and feed them.

Ada: But Papa feeds them with a bottle. That's not much work.

Chris: I have to come all the way downstairs to get the bottles!

Ada: Down here? That's some work. I feel tired for you.


We had this conversation about a month ago. Things are better than they were then with regard to the night-waking, thankfully. That notwithstanding, Chris and I still want a nap.

Ada's motto is "no rest for the preschooler"

Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

If his soul isn't a chickpea or a sea urchin, then what is it? "I'm seeing a handpainted ceramic toad," Giamatti said. "A nice one, though. Not a crappy Chia Pet one. Something decorative for the yard. It doesn't pull the room together or anything, but it's out there, and occasionally you notice it and you say, 'Oh, I kind of like that thing, that -- what is it? -- that toad thing.'"

Tad Friend
Soul Man

Lost and Found

Lost: my keys (house, bike lock, friends' houses). I might have left them at the coast, or they might be in the bottom of a diaper bag, or somewhere in the car. It has been more than two weeks.

Found: the shirts I thought I accidentally donated to Goodwill have resurfaced. I put them away when I got pregnant, but then forgot where. I searched all the closets several times and then gave them up for lost. This week while looking for something else in the closet I thought, "hmm, what's in this storage box labeled blankets?" and YAY! My summer wardrobe has been more than doubled. Just in time for fall.

Lost: the clicker for my car. One of the things we most wanted in a minivan was remote key-less entry. Without the clicker, no auto-sliding doors. The crazy thing is that I lost the clicker in my front yard. (I think. That's the thing about something being lost, right?) I used the clicker while standing near the car, and then walked back up the sidewalk to the porch.  I looked at my key and saw the clicker was not looped to the little flimsy metal connector dealie. My first thought was that I could call it. This is what I do whenever I can't find my phone, but as you might have realized, this won't work for the clicker. Then again, neither did walking around muttering "fuck. fuck fuck fuck."

Found: my keys. Well, Chris found them (while I was midway through constructing this post), but I am thrilled nonetheless. Still no sign of the clicker.

Stubborn, redux (or rather, reduced)

Ada's swim lessons went from bad to worse over the first week. At first content to sit with the parents and watch, after a few days Ada was crying that she did not want to go to the lesson. A couple of days Chris got her to sit on the side of the pool with her legs in the water, but that was all.

Week 2 started with her screaming to sit in my lap during the lesson. I refused, so that she did not see snuggle time as the alternative to the lesson. I felt like a horrible, unloving parent, but I knew that giving in was not the right tactic. The right tactic was apparently to refuse to take her any more, leaving this job to Chris. On Wednesday Chris bribed Ada with a snack, and she got in but didn't really participate in the lesson beyond following with the other kids on a little trek along the wall to deeper water where the others took turns getting out and jumping back in. Despite her limited participation, Ada returned home very happy with herself. She was proud that she'd gotten in.

Thursday involved another bribe, this time for participation. And the amazing thing is - it worked! After a few minutes of looking back at Chris and hesitating about joining the others, Ada finally decided the teacher could be trusted. She joined the kids in their mid-pool games and jumped into the water when it was her turn. She came home triumphant. My mother, Chris and I rewarded her with lavish praise (and a slice of pie which I'd just happened to purchase for dessert). I know it is probably not a great idea to make food the motivator for things we want her to do (especially when those things are actually fun once she finally decides to try them). However, at this point, she is so resistant to anything we want her to do that I am just thrilled that she let go a bit and participated - and enjoyed herself. Ada was so thrilled with herself, and we were thrilled with her too. Friday was a repeat of Thursday, but if possible it was even better. Ada participated in the the whole class, including the part where the teacher pours water on the kids' heads. While I was putting her to bed I asked Ada if she wanted to take lessons again. Yes, she does.

How nice to have a moment of positive experience and positive reinforcement of that experience. I am savoring it while it lasts.

Horses and Family

Chris's grandmother was in Oregon for a couple of weeks, so we drove the family out to his aunt's house so that grandma Lois could meet the twins and see Ada. Ada was very interested in the horses, and "helped" Aunt Camille (from the non-horse side of the fence). I would be happy for Ada to ride a horse, but I am not comfortable with her milling about at the feet of three horses, particularly when one of them is a bit testy and unpredictable.

Grandma Lois (who is 91) enjoyed the visit with the little ones, though she did blame herself (and her cold hands) when Mira cried in her arms. I think Mira was just tired, but there was no convincing Lois of that.

Getting two of the three to smile was good enough.

Chris's dad was a bit worried about Ada being near the horses. He has a bad memory of one of Camille's horses almost kicking Chris's brother Dylan. Camille had no memory of this, but when she heard that the horse's hoof was a foot away from Dylan, discounted the danger involved. In any case, Ada did not get that close to any of the horses on this trip.  Maybe next time we'll bring carrots and see how that goes.

Camille's dog kept a close eye on us, lest we make any sudden moves that warranted her attention.

Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

Nuns can be dictatorial, sexually repressed, and scary - and therefore, entertaining.

Paul Rudnick
Fun With Nuns

Stubborn

Cross-posted at Blogher (here).

My 4 year old daughter is stubborn. Ada is charming, polite, disarmingly verbal and funny, but she is also incredibly stubborn.This stubbornness shows itself in various ways (including her continuing refusal to use the toilet). While her (non) potty-training is annoying, it is only one example of her stubbornness. Despite loving to dance and twirl in our living room, at the park and the grocery store, every time she's faced with participatig in a dance class, she balks. No, she says, I don't want to. So we sit on the side and watch.

The next week she declares her desire to go to dance class, but once there it is the same scene. This has gone on for two years. I don't push her, knowing it won't do any good. I wait a couple of months, and when she once again starts mentioning wanting to go to dance class we go back, only to have the scene repeat. She does not allow herself to be drawn in by the teacher, by her twirling, jumping friends, or by anything else. She would rather sit by and watch than jump in and jump around.

Potty training has also succumbed to her stubbornness. A capable 4 year old, Ada now cleans herself up and discards soiled pull ups when she pees or has a bowel movement. She even goes so far as to sit on the toilet while wearing a pull up. But to sit with a bare bottom, to allow her waste to enter the toilet? That crosses some line she's drawn in the sand, and she's holding firm.

Given all this, I knew swim lessons were iffy. Ada does not like water in her ears and has never enjoyed getting sprayed with water. But she loves to go to the pool and was thrilled when I suggested lessons. For two weeks she's talked about the lessons, asked when we were going, and generally expressed enthusiasm for the idea. Yesterday she started the day similarly excited by the prospect. By 3pm, however, she'd decided she did not want to go to the pool. I told her she did not have to participate, but that we should go and check it out. We got there a bit early, to watch some lessons. Ada's class had two other kids in it, but she would not join them on the side of the pool. The teacher tried to encourage her, to no avail. She just sat with me, watching the other girls jump and play in the water. She dug in and that was that. I cried while driving her home, both sad that she was too afraid or stubborn to do something fun (again) and angry that her obstinancy was keeping her on the margins (again).

Chris escorted Ada to the next day's lesson. She told him "I don't want to go, let's go home, let's go..." but he got her poolside once again. In fact, he did eventually get her to sit by the edge of the pool with her feet in the water while the other girls joined the teacher in the pool. Who knows, by the end of the two weeks of daily lessons maybe she'll go in up to her waist.


(I'm not holding my breath.)

Erasure

Ada has been asking about death.

For a while she has wanted to know when we will die. (I generally reply, "not for a very long time.") This week she asked what death feels like. Before I could say anything, Chris said he thought it might be like sleeping. This made me a little nervous, since it occurred to me that this could cause Ada to worry about going to sleep, which is not what we want right now. Luckily, she didn't seem too concerned about that. Instead she asked: "What does it feel like when you die? Does someone erase you?"

I guess that's one way to go.

She looked so happy, I didn't mention the part about being buried in the ground.

Ala Peanut Butter Sandwiches*

Along with "twirly" dresses and tiaras, Ada is currently really into wands. She has a wand with a pink star at the end, but at some point decided that she needed more wands. In a burst of crafty enthusiasm that is rare in these life-with-twins days, I immediately hopped up and got a project going. Using a few items readily available around our house, we made a whole wizarding academy full of wands. This project was so easy that it does not really need a tutorial, but since the baby on my lap is sleeping, I am providing one anyway:

WAND-MAKING: ANOTHER HALF-ASSED TUTORIAL

STEP 1: Get some cardboard (the thinner type works best). Cut out a shape - we made star, moon, diamond, duck and octopus shapes. (Don't ask why she wanted an octopus. She's 4, that's why.) Cut out a matching shape so that the brown sides match up.

STEP 2: Color the cut-out shape (preferrably on the brown side of your cardboard, but if your preschooler disagrees, so be it).

STEP 3: Get a stick, dowel or skewer. Glue it to the cut out. You can see that Ada decided that the brown side should be on the inside. Be sure to put the glue on the side you want on the inside.

STEP 4: Glue the other cut-out on the other side of the stick so that they match up. Let the wand dry (and keep your preschooler from grabbing the wands while the glue is drying).

STEP 5: Tie a ribbon on the stick, up close to the top of the wand. We used the shiny ribbons normally used for wrapping presents.

The handmade star wand, and its purchased cousin/inspiration.

STEP 6: There is no step 6, other than to take your wand out for a spin. If you turn your little sister and brother into pumpkins, be sure to turn them back before your parents notice.

*If this title doesn't ring a bell, click here.

Two Little Girls, Three Little Pigs

An observation - Ada already favors Mira. Maybe it is the unconscious bond of sister-love, but she lavishes a bit more attention on Mira than on Ian. She wants to sit next to her in the car, prefers her as a walk-to-school companion, and asks for her more often than she does Ian.

Ada reading to an entranced Mira

Twelve Weeks with Captain Obvious

Mayberry Mom (channeling Captain Obvious) posted a series of reminders about things not to ask a woman of childbearing age.  My personal favorite -- "are you planning on having any more children?" -- is something I have heard a lot in the past 3 months. Even if we didn't just have twins, it is kind of a weird question to ask people who have just had a child. No one getting up 3 times a night really wants to think much about doing it all over again with another kid.

Mayberry's list of things not to ask got me thinking about the things Chris and I have been repeatedly asked since Ian and Mira were born three months ago.  A sampling:

Do twins run in your family? (They do now.)

Was it a surprise? (Yes, we were expecting puppies.)

Are the natural? (actually, we had them crafted from an advanced polymer.)

Are they identical? (Wow, seriously? One is a boy, the other a girl.)

People also ask us how we can tell them apart. Usually this question indicates not so much that the person is an idiot but that he or she has not actually looked at both kids. After the first week or two, when they both looked liked, well, babies, they have developed very distinct facial features. Take a peek:

Hell, they were even color coded in this photo

She has these huge cheeks (much like Ada did) while he has a longer face. Plus, about everything else is different: their hairlines; eyes, eyebrows, amount of chub; and how easily they smile. In many ways Mira looks a lot like Ada did at this age, while Ian is already his own man, so to speak.

Ok, moving on.

Ian, not seeming to mind that his sister had been bopping him in the head for the past 20 minutes

Now that Ian and Mira are 12 weeks things are changing. Sadly for me, I don't mean that they are sleeping through the night or writing their first novels. Now that the summer is ending, Chris will be returning to work and I will be going solo.

And I am scared shitless.

I am so scared I am rethinking the wisdom of taking 6 months off from work. If I went back to work I'd be able to hand off my bundles of (crying, fussing, hungry, wet) joy to someone else while I talked about Important Things(tm) all day.  Then someone else could deal with the crying that will inevitably result from one adult caring for two small babies. I am really feeling at a loss about how this will work. Amazingly enough, neither Chris nor I have been alone with both babies for more than a few hours at a time. While this has been great in so many ways, it means that I have had a lot of time to build up a scary image of what the alone-with-twins future will bring. I am constantly asking myself: how do I do this? I know how to feed them together, and generally how to entertain them, but what do I do with them when they get tired? Will all naps be walks with the stroller? (Seriously, I need some advice. Sarah? Rebecca? Anyone?)

Oh, and all that hand-wringing over breastfeeding may be moot, as Mira is showing signs of rejecting my breasts. (how's that for solidarity among females?) It is too early to say for sure, but the past couple of days have included episodes of rejection of (and tears in response to proffered) milk-engorged breasts. I know mine don't rival Salma Hayek's, but still, there is milk there, for the taking.

Guess which twin takes very little convincing to make her laugh?

I need to keep staring at the above photo to remind myself that this has not all been drudgery and torturous sleeplessness (though it certainly has been the latter). The twins gave us one glorious night this month, which happened to be our anniversary. When Ada was an infant, I was determined to celebrate our anniversary. It seemed very important not to ignore "us" while we were so wrapped up in her. I saw that the jazz trio that had played at our wedding was giving a free outdoor concert in Washington Park, and we decided to pick up picnic supplies from a favorite restaurant so that we could sit on the grass enjoying the music. Somehow it did not occur to me that driving across town to the restaurant (at rush hour) might be a bit dicey with a colicky infant. She cried the whole time. As she did during the drive across the river to the park. However, I don't remember her crying during the concert. Maybe she did, but more likely I nursed her and we bounced her and everyone had a good time. Mostly I remember how stressful each red light of the trip was, as Ada's crying started the moment the car stopped.

This year we made no such plans. Chris and I know we love one another, and one year without a dinner out won't wreck us. Still, it was nice to get that little present of sleep from the babies. It has not happened again since, but it is good to know they care.

Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

I used to be a productive individual who read serious fiction in the hours before I went to sleep. But that was in the innocent, un-Scrabbled past.

Deborah Solomon

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.