Five at Five

When I was pregnant, I had this song stuck in my head. With a little tweak to the words (the original includes the words "a sister and two brothers") it describes my family pretty well. We are a family of five, though we are not yet muppets. And now the twins are five (months).

Ian and Mira are increasingly becoming more fun as they move out of the infant stage into babyhood. They are interested in one another and in the world around them. While they clearly know and like Chris and me, they reserve special status for Ada. She walks in the room and the babies light up. This evening I was holding Mira while Ada and I talked. Mira started laughing and within a minute was in hysterics, just watching Ada and taking great joy in her.

The babies have also gotten REALLY drooly. As evidence, check out the following photograph, in which Ian and Mira are linked by Ian's spit.

Nice, huh? We are still holding out on the bibs, by the way.

While both Ian and Mira have shown the ability to get from their backs to their bellies, neither kid is routinely rolling over. This is fine with me. It is so different to be doing this a second time. I remember getting really excited when Ada was close to a milestone (rolling over, sitting up, programming the VCR). With these two, I frankly don't really relish the idea of them becoming mobile. They are enough work as it is, but once we can't just lay them down and walk out of the room to grab a coffee or a burp rag, we are screwed. This will be especially problematic because Ada has gotten really into building with Legos. Thanks to my thrift store purchase of a giant tub of them, we find tiny pieces all over the playroom. living room and pretty much everywhere else. I am thrilled that Ada is so into building, but getting her to put away her carefully constructed houses, cars and airplanes is turning out to be fairly difficult. So, the longer the babies are unable to motor themselves over to the myriad choking hazards that surround them, the better.

The past week or so, both kids have stepped up their vocalizations. They have gotten loud, and they want to talk a lot. Ian was warbling the whole time I was taking 5 Month pictures, much to the amusement of the assembled adults. (Okay, it was only me and our helper Caitlin, but we were pretty darn amused.) The photo below shows the moment at which the singing and talking turned to unhappy complaint. Mira is giving me a nice "what the hell is wrong with him?" look. I think by age 2 she'll have perfected the faux angel shtick, especially at moments when her brother is acting a bit wild.

No officer, I have never seen this man before in my life.

 
Also, she's a ham. (Look at me! No, look at ME!)

Ian, for his part, is getting very directive. Here we see him piloting Chris around the neighborhood:

Turn Left. I said LEFT, Papa.

All in all, life is pretty good. We still don't get enough sleep, but the couple of times the babies have slept through the night* have us hopeful for the future. Plus, it helps to remember that at this point with Ada I was still getting up twice a night to nurse her.

*by "slept through the night" I certainly do not mean "did not wake up at all during the night." I meant "didn't eat during the night even though they woke up and cried enough to wake us up at least once"

And speaking of Ada, she continues to be interesting in dressing herself, to interesting effect. One day she wears tights on her head:

and another she puts together this outfit, much to her own amusement:

How come it never occurred to me to turn a turtleneck into a tube top?

November's big task is finding a nanny. Juniper (Ada's old nanny and our good friend) has promised to help us with this. She's even offered to write a Craigslist ad. After seeing the incredibly wide range of people who responded to our mother's helper ad in September (from an over-sharing welfare mother to a woman with a master's degree and 12 years experience) I wonder how this process will go. Juniper set a pretty high bar, so we'll see. 

Neighborhood Pigs

Spotted within a seven block area:

The Good, The Bad and the Sleeping*

Good morning. (I am typing this at 6 am.) You might ask: why are you up and conscious enough to be blogging at this early hour? Good question! I am up because Miss Congeniality (formerly and no doubt again soon the Snotmaster General) woke up for the day at 5:20. I nursed her in bed for a while, but (unlike her brother) Mira does not like to drift off to sleep after nursing. (When she agrees to nurse at all.) The girl is still a little testy about taking milk from the source sometimes, but this morning she was hungry and decided to cooperate. So she nursed. And after a half hour, she was ready to face the day, or at least go downstairs for a diaper change and some quality time with her giraffe rattle toy.

BUT. She woke up for the day at 5:20 for a reason. That reason is: she slept all night, from about 5:45 pm until 5:20 am without eating. This is not to say she did not wake up at all. (We are currently trying to train her not to wake up every time the pacifier slips out of her mouth, with at least some limited success.) But she did not wake up after 2 am, which is our current marker between "too early to feed you" and "okay fine we'll get up and deal with your pathetic cries." This is great, right? We are on our way to happy sleep-filled nights, right?

Oh, except for one thing. There is a brother. And Ian's sleep patterns are not exactly aligned with hers. Another fantastic element of our glamorous life with twins. Even when Ian sleeps until 7, which he seems likely to do, having woken at 4:30 for a bottle, at least one parent is up way too early with Mira. I'm not even sure which kid to praise, the one who did not wake us during the night, or the one who let (one of us) sleep in a bit. (Or would have, if Chris hadn't needed to get out of the house early today. And for the record, Ian slept until 7:45. Wow.)

This not-eating-all-night was first for Mira. Usually Ian wakes up to eat, and a short time later Mira rouses and is fed. Very often Ian is the first to wake in the morning, but as he allows me to take him into the bed for nursing (and then we both drift into sleep for a while), a 5:30 wake up can turn into a 7:00 get up. (Occasionally it is even later, but I won't dwell on this for fear of depressing Chris, who - due to his total lack of nursing ability - never gets to drowse in bed with Ian. He definitely gets the short end of the stick on this.)

Yesterday I complained on facebook that Ian was refusing to nap for longer than a half-hour. Whenever people ask me who is my favorite, I reply "whichever one is sleeping better." Needless to say, Ian was not winning any popularity contests yesterday. Today? Today he's going for the gold. It is now 2 pm and Mira and Ian have done a personality swap today, apparently. Really - this morning Mira had a half-hour nap, while Ian snoozed nicely.  Crazy.

I guess that shows me for thinking I know something about these two. Sure, Mira smiles easily and Ian makes funny noises when he's annoyed. But what do I really know about them yet? Once they are more able to express themselves, I am sure Chris and I will look back and see their personality traits in their baby selves. But while they are inhabiting those baby bodies, it is still a bit hard to know what is going on.  I need to remember not to label them as "the good sleeper" or "the funny one." It always comes back to bite me in the ass, and in the end it does not mean much anyway.

*I considered using the title The Sleeping and the Dead, but that seemed a little macabre.

Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

He's got that unmistakable graduate-student look of having just climbed out of a root cellar.

Andrea Lee
Altered State: Pennsylvania, blackness, and the art of being foreign

Two Birds

Chris and I recently decided that each week we would try to do something with one of us and Ada. Just Ada. Not "a baby and Ada" and not "take Ada on an errand." (Okay, so we still take her on errands, but an errand doesn't count as the "fun thing" of the week.)

Two weeks ago I took Ada to the Children's Museum. Last week she and Chris went to the waffle window. And for the past two weeks, I have picked up Ada from school and biked her over to a local photo booth.

Two Birds, 9/30/09

Taking Ada to the photo booth kills two birds with one stone; it is a special activity that only she and I get to do, and it allows me to indulge regularly in something I love. Even better, we've been biking on these little jaunts. Ada loves to be carted around in the trailer, and it is yet another thing she can do that the babies can not.

10/5/09

I am going to keep doing this with her as long as she wants to keep going with me.

An alternative to crabs

I was going to post a crabby post borne out of an annoying but completely ordinary day. Instead I am cutting you a break, and offering this instead:

Rachel sent us a tiger costume (along with a ton of other clothes). I immediately put the costume on Ada's Mira's head and took a picture.

She doesn't look entirely thrilled, but otherwise all is well.

I got up to grab something in the other room and when I returned 20 seconds later:

Don't call the cops, she was only like this for a moment.  
She hadn't even started to complain yet.

Walk the Walk

NB: Somehow this got resaved as a draft, then reposted here, even though I originally posted it in September. Oh well. Technology burp. 

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 a block or two. Parents are too afraid that their children will be abducted. 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.

The article upset me for a couple of reasons. To begin with, it 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?

Honestly now

Dad Who Writes tagged me for a meme. The rules are: post 10 honest things about yourself and tag 7 people to do the same. Annoyingly, DWW would definitely be one of the people I would ask to do this, if he hadn't just asked me.

And now for some honest things: 

1. I am simultaneously thrilled and horrified to get tagged for any meme, no matter how interesting or inane it is. I am thrilled because the inner pathetic teenager in me cares a lot about things like comments and hits and whether people like my blog enough to tag me for memes. I am horrified because I fear that I will tag people, only to have them ignore me or loudly refuse to participate. (Again, thanks inner teen!) The upshot is that I worry more about what people think of me than I would like to believe about myself.
2. I was pleasantly surprised when Ada told me I am lucky, and when I asked her why she thinks that, she said: "because you have three kids." I am glad she sees this as a good thing. 
3. One of the reasons I don't want to give up breastfeeding is that when I stop I may have to start real exercise again (beyond daily walks) and won't be able to eat as much. While it is true that I will be able to drink more, I don't drink so much that this seems like a good trade-off. Plus, alcohol is fattening, leading to the need for more exercise.
   
4. I often tell one of two close friends what is bothering me before I tell Chris. This is especially true when I am annoyed at Chris. This helps me a lot, because by the time I tell him what is going on I have thought about it more and am less likely to get irrationally angry. My many years with Chris have taught me that irrational expressions of emotion don't lead to meaningful dialog with him.
   
5. I was recently very embarrassed that a coworker I really respect knew what a slip-shod job I did keeping track of documents for a grant I worked on a couple of years ago. This coworker very kindly made it clear that it was no big deal, but I still felt horrified that she would see what a slacker I'd been.
6. I sometimes think I chose the wrong profession, not because I do not enjoy or care about what I do, but because I know I will never make much money. Especially with additional mouths to feed and bottoms to clothe, this worries me. 
7. I am an intellectual, but I am lazy about it. 
8. I get totally sucked into a game and then play it all the time for a few weeks before getting bored. Right now I am obsessed with the Boggle-like Scramble on Facebook. Both my sister and Chris are kicking my ass, high-score wise. I have beaten Chris in head-to-head games, however. 
9. I wish there was a way to explain to a four-year old that when she is crazily needy, I want to withdraw. I know there is no way for her to understand this, but it does not stop me from wishing. I feel like a shitty parent for wanting her to back off a little. I love her loving me, but sometimes it is so exhausting to be needed all the time. 
10. Ada is exploring the idea that she could be something or someone else. When she says she wishes she was Lila or Avery, it makes me wonder who I would like to be. For all my complaining, I am not sure I would really want to be someone else. I have barely figured out how to be me without having to learn someone new.
    

And now, a quick ridiculous picture of Mira:

What?

Tagging. Oy. Okay, here goes:

Magpie Musing, because she will certainly write something interesting
Mayberry Mom, who wrote very honestly about her (hopefully finished) hard year
Cartoon Goddess, because she comes up with great visuals for what is in her head
Mad.Momma, the kindest, most generous almost-stranger I know
Planet Nomad, whose posts from abroad are so interesting, even the mundane details
Lumpyhead's Mom, since she can post pictures of stuff on her son's head
Heathen Family Revival, because I love her blog title and her photography skills

The Unexpected Joy of Parenting

2:26 A.M.

Mira had been crying on and off for an hour. I got up and fed her, then rocked her and put her back to bed. On my way downstairs to pump, I stopped in Ada's room to make sure she was warm enough. She has taken to sleeping on top of her down comforter, covered only by her baby blankets. Sometimes she kicks off the covers early in the evening and spends the rest of the night without blankets. Tonight she was covered by two of her favorites, but her toes were sticking out. I laid a third blanket over her so that her feet were covered. She stirred, and as I was leaving, said, "I love you Mama."

I love you too, Ada.

Random Quote and Unrelated Photo of the Week

"If we weren't making decisions based on marketability, John Malkovich would be in every movie,"  a top studio marketer says.

Tad Friend
The Cobra

It bears repeating

Two years ago I wrote a post about a friend, and why you should do breast self-exams. Last year I linked to the post, and wrote about friends I'd made who were living with and living through cancer. This year I thought I might mention a resource, in case you take my advice to do self-exams and then end up needing insurance to deal with something you found. Oh, how I hope you will find nothing wrong and need no assistance. I also hope you have good health insurance. But if any of that is not true, there are resources available, including the U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention's National Breast and Cervical Cancer Early Detection Program. The NBCCEDP helps low-income, uninsured, and underinsured women gain access to breast and cervical cancer screening and diagnostic services. These services include:

• Clinical breast examinations.
• Mammograms.
• Pap tests.
• Pelvic examinations.
• Diagnostic testing if results are abnormal.
• Referrals to treatment.

In Oregon, you can contact the state's Breast and Cervical Cancer Program. For resources in other states, check out CDC's NBCCEDP web site.

In the mean time, here is my friend Stephanie's story.

When I moved to Rhode Island in 2000, I left a job I loved and a close group of friends, in a city I'd come to see as home. Chris is an academic, so he made friends at work, but I struggled to meet people in a place where most of the residents are natives. Almost everyone I met had lived in Rhode Island their entire lives, had the same friends they'd had since before kindergarten, and though they were kind, it was clear that they were not looking to make new friends. I really struggled to find friends, and in the end one of my favorite people in Rhode Island did not even live in the state.

Stephanie Williams was the girlfriend of Dan, one of Chris's colleagues. Every other weekend she would take the train from New York City to visit Dan. A journalist, Stephanie was interesting, funny and smart. Some of my favorite moments in Rhode Island were spent in the company of Stephanie and Dan. Chris and I liked them enough that we we saw them in New York too. We went to NYC regularly to see family, and we'd meet up for brunch or pizza.

Shortly before we met, Stephanie was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was 30. One of the things that impressed me about Stephanie was that despite dealing with cancer (surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation), she was always interested in other people. Maybe because she was a journalist, she tended to look out into the world rather than retreat into her own pain.

Stephanie fought her cancer for three years. She ultimately died, but not before fulfilling a dream to write a novel. Her book, Enter Sandman was published in 2004, the summer she died. Stephanie's story, including her struggle with cancer and her decision to use her limited time to write a book, was featured in a number of national and local publications. She herself wrote an article for Glamour that was published after her death. Her alma mater wrote a a very nice article about her.

It is terrible that Stephanie died so young, but you can do something to help ensure that you and your loved ones do not. Please do monthly self breast exams, and please get an annual exam every year. This is a great start for young women, especially those of us who are generally healthy and do not see ourselves at being at risk for cancer. If you do not know how to do a monthly exam, click here. Most insurance covers annual exams with either a very low or no copayment. It is more than worth the $10 doctor fee and an hour of your time. I know you are busy, but really, this seems like a good use of time. I hope the men in my readership will urge their loved ones to do these exams as well.

I thought to tell you this because October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but you should do an exam every month. Even though I admit that I have not been so good about this in the past, I'll promise if you do too.

Found

Found, while cleaning up and culling items from the playroom:

Two birthday candles (one pink, one blue), saved since Lila's birthday party in early June.

One handful of chestnuts and smallish rocks. Date of entry into the house is uncertain.

Numerous Stumptown "coffee cards." These are the little cards our coffee store uses to identify the type of whole bean coffee we've purchased. Ada believes they are very valuable, and has a sizable collection.

Two plastic hippo pellets from Hungry Hungry Hippos game. Retrieved from under bookshelf, probably lost in the spring when pellets were used as food for the dolls.

One baking powder container, empty of original contents but housing a mid-sized lumpy rock.

A plastic top to a yogurt container, an empty honey bear, an empty lemon juice bottle and several ribbons. To be fair, the bear and lemon juice have been part of her kitchen play, but having found them under the bookshelf I declared them no longer in active rotation and eligible for elimination.

I wonder where she gets this penchant for collecting?

We May Need to Eat Our (Incredibly Soggy) Words

Chris and I have always been very anti-bib. Or rather, we have a long-standing practice of making derisive comments about people who put cloth bibs on their kids in order to catch drool.* The fact that Ada was not especially drooly cemented our belief that this all-day bib thing was pure parental vanity. Plus, if your kid was going to drool, didn't the use of a bib just create more laundry?

As recently as this weekend I stared in confusion at the bibs a friend included in a huge box of clothes her boys have outgrown. Should I put them in the drawer or take them to Goodwill? We wouldn't use them, right? But this morning Chris said, "I'm beginning to have more appreciation for why people put bibs on their kids. I've changed Ian's clothes three times today."

It was 10:04 am.

Ian had been up since 7, with an hour nap at 8.The boy is a drool machine.

We have not busted out the bibs yet. Thanks to the generosity of our friends and their hand-me-downs, we have a ton of baby clothes. But now I see the advantage of bibs. Instead of taking off a whole outfit and dealing with the attendant squirming and crying, you can quickly swap out a soaked bib with minimal fuss.  I get it, but I am still resistant because it just seems so fussy.

We'll see.

Apropos of nothing, I finally got around to taking a 4 month picture. After 500 tries in which one kid wasn't smiling or wasn't looking at the camera or was drooling profusely, we got this one with them both at least kind of smiling. Don't be fooled into thinking Ian is reticent. We have a lot of photos in which Ian is smiling broadly while Mira stares at him in disbelief.

* I am a huge fan of the mealtime use of bibs made of oil cloth or plastic. We made heavy use of such bibs when Ada was a messier eater.

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