Why You Little...

I made it through the entire weekend without wanting to strangle R. In fact, I didn't want to inflict any bodily harm upon her. This is a good thing! And a huge improvement over last weekend. Apparently, the terrible twos strike each child in a different manner, and for R, they involve wide mood swings between anger and tears with lots of cuddling and hugs in between.

Last weekend was a gigantic battle. We fought over clothes. (R didn't want to wear them.) We fought over leaving a La Leche League meeting. (She wanted to walk up and down the stairs of death to the meeting room 15 more times.) We fought over not stopping at McDonald's when we drove past. (Not that we ever stop there. We generally limit visits to McDonald's to vacation.) We fought over not stopping at a playground swarming with kids when there were no parking spaces, the heat index was approaching 100 degrees, and it was lunch time. We fought, fought, fought. And R, who is usually pretty reasonable, would not compromise. Any "no" from me just led to immediate tears. Big, noisy, my-mom-is-beating-me level tears. And then she would want hugs to know that she was still loved. And the worst part was all drama was just for me. She was fine around Jeff.

Last week things settled down and evened out a bit more. There was a lot less anger, and the battles she fought were evenly distributed between Jeff and me. She watches Sesame Street every day, and each day she sobbed when the TV was turned off at the end of the episode. The clothing battles continued. Jeff ended up letting her wear whatever she wanted since at least she was covered. One day she was wearing an orange butterfly shirt, pink and black polka dot biker's shorts, and red socks with locomotives on them when I came home from work. On Thursday, she didn't even get dressed and was still in her pajamas when I arrived at home. On Sunday she kept taking her pants off. And her shoes never stay on, even in public. She is fairly good about handing them to us after she removes them, but she does not want to wear shoes and will only tolerate them if her feet are touching the ground at that instant.

The meltdown that makes me smile occurred while I was making dinner one night. As I was cooking, she started sobbing hysterically in the little hallway next to the kitchen. When I asked her what was wrong she eventually calmed down enough to say, "Coooorrrrrn." Yes, she was hyperventilating because we were having green beans and mushrooms (two of her favorites) instead of corn (her favorite of the week). So she got a big hug and we agreed to have corn for lunch the next day. Unfortunately, she overheard me mentioning the incident to Jeff, and that started a whole new mournful cry for "Coooorrrrn!"

It will be interesting to see what this week brings...

I'm Growing!

Any woman who has ever been pregnant understands the feeling of growing overnight. With any pregnancy you can wear something one day and it fits fine, you wash it, then when you try to put it on two days later, it's way too small. (And you know the dryer wasn't that hot.) But twins seem to be taking the overnight, and daytime, growth to a whole new level. Some of my fun experiences from the past week include:

• Attempting to put on pajamas. I have spent most of this pregnancy sleeping in my stretched out size-small t-shirts that I wore through most of my pregnancy with R. (I'm not a big person, and they got me through the first 36 or so weeks with her.) The other night I went to put on one of these shirts. I could not get it over my belly. It's not that it was even more stretched out on my belly - it just wouldn't pull down over my belly. It was like the experience of trying to put on a pair of stiff jeans that are 2 sizes too small. It just doesn't work. So I dug through my drawer, found a larger shirt, and put it on. I told Jeff about my experience, and he commented that the new shirt I found fit really well and looked like it was just the right size. The new shirt was a men's extra-large.
• Time lapse photography. Jeff was looking at pictures on the camera and came across one where he finally took a picture of my belly. He commented that we really needed an updated photo (implying I was a whole lot bigger). I reminded him that the photo was a whopping eight days old.
• Trying to get home from work. On Friday morning I sat down in my car, noticed my belly was getting closer to the steering wheel but thought I had a ways to go before it made contact with the steering wheel, and drove to work. On Friday afternoon when I got in the car, my belly was touching the steering wheel. I do work a strange and long schedule, but I had been in my car within 10 hours!

On the bright side, I hear that twins do grow much earlier than singletons, so perhaps the growth rate will slow down. Meanwhile I will enjoy that while I am quickly becoming a fashion don't as I try to keep myself covered, I don't care. I'm having twins!

Baby Update - 24 Weeks

I talk about R all the time, but I haven't said much about the boys. From what I can tell, they are doing a-okay. Right now they are about a foot long and weigh a little over a pound each. (Think big ol' ear of corn.) They are incredibly active. One of them, labeled Boy B in the first ultrasound, is my hyper little guy. He is always kicking and squirming. Last week I even got a good look at his little foot under my stretched-out skin as he tried to kick off from my ribs. (I hate to break it to him, but he just ain't gonna be as big as Michael Phelps.) When Boy B is having play time, he makes sure his brother is awake and playing too.

Boy A is much more chill. He moves, but his movement is much more fluid. In the first ultrasound we did get to watch him kick and punch his brother a few times and it was easy to imagine him saying, "SHUT UP!"

Both boys love it when I eat, and about 15-20 minutes after I start a meal, the belly circus begins. Woohoo for new flavors! They also appreciate story time, and they seem to pay close attention when I read to R each night. (Either that or they are practicing for jumping off the sofa when I try to read to them as toddlers.) The other night Boy B woke me up at 3 a.m. Pru was howling in her sleep, and she apparently startled him...a lot. He did not settle down for awhile.

Sleep in general is interesting. When they were smaller, getting up was always a challenge as they liked to burrow down around my hips while I was sleeping. They can't do that any longer, but they aren't making things a whole lot easier. I sleep on my side, and each time I wake up I typically flip to the other side since my shoulders get kinda numb. When I was pregnant with R, I don't remember having many belly issues when it came to rolling over aside from getting the momentum to move. I may have had to give her a shove to make her shift, but it wasn't a big deal. Now when I roll over, all 3 of us have to roll over. Whichever baby was on top before never seems to be happy with the idea of suddenly ending up on the bottom. There is much protesting and refusing to move. Then there is the fact that he has to wake up his brother in order to get the one who is now on top to move. I think the sibling battles start early!

I had my monthly update with my midwife yesterday, and all seems well. She is requiring me to get additional ultrasounds, but she will allow me to skip all the other hurdles OBs typically require women pregnant with multiples to jump through. Even the ultrasounds don't seem too bad, and she is definitely encouraging me to space them out as much as the perinatologist (the high-risk baby doctor who is performing the ultrasounds) will let me. My first one is next week, and I'm sure it will be an interesting experience. Meanwhile, I continue to hope for healthy, full-term babies, and I certainly wouldn't mind a nice, easy delivery too!

A Day in the Life

Last week was strange. At work, we provide the Board of Trustees with quarterly updates of our work, and with September 30th looming, everyone in our office had to cram five days worth of work into a four-day workweek. (Thank goodness for being a governmental employee, though. A "bad" week means working through lunch, not staying til the wee hours of the morning.)

Home was busy too as Jeff was "promoted" to the position of head coach of a rec league soccer team just days before the season began. He and R spent lots of time getting things ready for the team's first practice, which meant our nights were also busy as we attempted to prepare for Tropical Storm Hanna.

So while I promise to blog a bit about our "hurrication" later this week, for now I am ready to focus on "normal" again. One thing I haven't shared in awhile is our current routine, and whether anyone else cares or not, I'm sure that some day I will enjoy looking back at seeing what our world looked like.

R went through a phase where she would not sleep through the night. In fact, she was getting up many times a night to check on me. She didn't want to miss seeing me leave for work. After trying other alternatives, I finally asked her if she wanted me to get her up before I go to work. She responded with an enthusiastic, "Yeah!" so that is what we now do. R sleeps until I wake her, and I generally get her up around 6:30. We eat breakfast together in the bathroom while we get ready. (Not the greatest of habits, but she also eats a second breakfast with Jeff.) While I fix my hair, she dutifully combs hers, and then we put on makeup together. She has her own clean sponges and brushes to use to apply her "makeup" while I put on mine. She then heads to my dresser and gets out a silver bracelet for me and a plastic bracelet for her to wear. Once we are ready, she happily kiss me good-bye, then she stands at the window to watch me leave. Thanks to the new routine, Jeff says there are also no more tears in the morning when I leave. She waves and is then ready to play or eat her second breakfast.

During the day, R and Jeff have all sorts of adventures together. They typically venture out of the neighborhood at least a couple times a week, as Jeff is enjoying his time with just one kiddo at home. On other days, they stay and play at home or take care of the yard. Regardless of their adventures, R and I always discuss her day when I get home.

As her vocabulary expands, so do the reports of the day's activities. Food still remains the center of her life, and she is good about naming everything they had for lunch, especially if she and Jeff went out to eat. She is pretty good about remember other activities from the day, and she really loved telling me about her trips to the soccer store and league office last week.

As we talk after work, R helps me change into my "mom clothes." While I am changing, she typically tries on my shoes. She has a favorite floral pair of flats that she loves to get out daily. Thankfully, she is also good about putting them away when she is done.

Next is dinner. R is becoming increasingly self-sufficient. For months, she has been responsible for taking her drink from the kitchen to the table. Now she will also go and get her own bib and put it on before the meal. Once we put her in her booster seat, she buckles herself in. After eating, she places all the dishes and cups from her tray on the table, takes off her bib, and washes her tray with a wash cloth. She also insists upon washing her own hands and face. Lately she has also insisted on washing her toes after every meal, which just leaves us scratching our heads in confusion.

After dinner we play. R demands that I color with her most nights, and I'm pretty happy to comply. Last week I discovered that the little preschool teacher had set up "centers" for me to do in her room. She drug me in (literally - she grabbed my hand and yanked me down the hall), and told me I had to play blocks. Then we moved on to Little People and then with wooden shapes. At least a few nights a week we workout together, and R loves to play "tunnel" and crawl through my legs while I do yoga.

R is forever inventing new activities for us to do while she is in the bathtub. She remains obsessed with nursery rhymes and songs, and we spent a lot of time chanting and singing. She thinks it's hilarious to play "This Little Piggy" with my toes. Her favorite song for the tub is the "Meow, Meow" song from the old cat food commercial, and Jeff has made it clear that we do sound like a couple of dying cats, especially with the echo of the bathroom. Lately she has also been "cooking" for me in the bathtub, using plastic bowls and Elmo's back brush as a spoon to make me peach yogurt and oatmeal. (Her ideas for food, of course.)

The rest of the routine has not changed. Following her bath, she eats a snack, we read four books, she brushes her teeth, and I took her into bed. I then clean up the house, walk the dogs, and get ready for another day of fun!

Surviving Spontaneity

For the past couple of years, since Jeff and I became parents, our lives have been very structured. There hasn’t been much room (or energy) for spontaneity. If anything, we were more likely than not to cancel plans (sorry , we know we’ve bailed on all of you at some point) rather than make plans at the last minute. Structure has been the only way to keep everyone in our family happy, healthy, and sane.

So this weekend was a big shock to our systems. On Thursday night we found out that our friends Tom and Kursad, along with Tom’s girlfriend Monica (who is now our friend!), were coming for the weekend. This is when I realized that there are some advantages to being super pregnant with twins. In the past, I would’ve freaked out by this turn of events and would’ve spent hours on Thursday night grocery shopping and cleaning the house for the weekend. Instead, I did the very bare minimum. Thursday night R helped me sweep and clean the bathrooms to remove the biggest chunks of dog hair, and that was the full extent of our cleaning efforts. On Friday, she helped Jeff vacuum, take the recycling to the collection center (we don’t have curbside recycling here, so recyclables pile up all over the house) and they went to the grocery store for a few basic food items. And that was it.

Friday afternoon the guests arrived, and we had a wonderful time with them. We had a completely relaxing weekend of beach going, movie watching, and great conversation. There were a couple of times during which everyone else went out while R slept, and I read almost half a novel enjoying the quiet. It was great. Perhaps, even with kids, spontaneity can be a great thing.

CUPCAKE!

R's first birthday was fun. She even got to have two parties. But she didn't really understand what was going on, and Jeff and I didn't make a big deal out of it. We figured there were plenty of years in the future in which we could have all sorts of crazy princess parties.

Her second birthday was even tamer as she only had one birthday "party" and it just involved the immediate family and one set of grandparents. But the biggest difference between her first and second birthdays is she now understands the concept of birthdays (at least sorta) and she was very excited for all the birthday hoopla this time around.

As we were preparing for her birthday, we learned that to R, birthdays mean cupcakes. We are not quite sure why this is. R has never had a cupcake, in fact, she's barely tasted cake, but cupcakes were the theme of all our birthday planning.

The weekend before her birthday the whole family was at the grocery store. As we headed down the baking aisle, Jeff and I were debating what kind of cake to make. I had planned on being boring, healthy mommy and making a whole grain carrot cake. Jeff was fighting for cheap, processed cake mix Devil's Food. Given that I'm pregnant...with twins (I'm so gonna milk this for awhile), it wasn't that hard to persuade me to buy a nice chocolately box of Betty Crocker mix.

Once that was decided, we had to determine how the cake should appear. I figured a plain rectangle just wouldn't do (I'm an auditor, I live by the rules all week long - I need some imagination in my baking!), so I was trying to come up with an interesting shaped cake. As we discussed bunny vs. caterpillar vs. butterfly, Ree heard the word cake. She then began bouncing up and down in the cart chanting, "Cupcake! Cupcake! Cupcake!" So that was decided.

Several days later, it occurred to me that perhaps I should purchase some kind of decorations for her party. (I would've made decorations, but I'm pregnant...with twins! :) So R and I trotted off to Dollar Tree to get inspired. Elmo is still one of her favoritest things in the whole wide world, and we miraculously stumbled upon Sesame Street plates and napkins. I handed each to her and told them we would use them at her birthday. She seemed confused. So then I said, "On your birthday, Grandma and Grandpa Gene will be here and we'll eat dinner and then sing happy birthday and have cupcakes." She kissed the plates, then the napkins, hugged them both to her chest, and began the "Cupcake!" chant again. The chant continued all the way to the register, while she swung the bag all the way to the car, and all the way home. That night she said a teary goodbye to the cupcake accessories as I put them away til her birthday.

When it was time for her actual birthday, R was still obsessed with cupcakes. But she also discovered presents. Presents are fun! And they were all for her! She was very excited. She loved tearing through them. If we had let her, she would've taken hours to open presents since she wanted to try each and every item as it was opened. Toys had to be played with! Books had to be read! Clothes had to be tried on!

Once we finally moved on from the present opening, it was time for cupcakes. R was very excited. She happily sat in my life while we sang happy birthday and blew out the candles. She loved huffing and puffing and trying to blow out the candles, and I'm happy to report she never did spit on the cupcakes.

But there was no greater joy than watching her savor the first beloved cupcake of her life. You could tell she thought it was heaven. She first ate the decorative frosting, one delicious bite at a time. Then she moved on to the regular frosting. Next she ate the top layer of cake. Then she slowly moved down to the rest of the cupcake. She was so busy enjoying each and every morsel that she barely made her usual editorial comments. She was a true cupcake connoisseur!

In the days since her birthday, she has still been delighting in all her new toys. She also went to the doctor for her two-year check-up, and all is well. She remains a petite princess. She is 32" tall, which at least put her on the charts although just barely. However, she still only weighs 20 pounds, which puts her substantially below the chart since most one-year-olds weigh 20 pounds. But she is a happy girl, and clearly growing, and that's all that matters to us and her doctor. Thankfully, they are out of her reach reach, or I think she would make up for her low weight entirely in cupcakes.

And Babies Make Five

I am not quite sure when I realized I wanted to have children. It was probably some time during junior high or the early high school years. I spent most of my free time babysitting, and there were several families in which I felt like I was practically raising their children as I saw them at least weekly and often daily. I do know that it was during this time that I realized I wanted a big family. From my observations, it truly seemed like "the more, the merrier" and I loved the happy chaos that went along with families that had three or more children. My favorite family had four children when I started babysitting and six children when all was said and done, and I always loved my time with them, hectic though it was.

Jeff always wanted a big family too, and for years the running joke was he wanted enough daughters to start his own soccer team. (That's 11 little estrogen-filled munchkins for those of you who don't follow the sport.) While we were eventually able to agree that perhaps eleven was a few children too many, we did know early on that we wanted to try to have to children and if all went well, we would have several.

No matter how much we had talked about children, we weren't quite prepared to go from thinking about maybe trying to get pregnant to finding out we were pregnant with R just a few weeks later. Nor were we fully prepared for instant pregnancy a second time. But nothing was quite as startling as our visit to the doctor last week.

Throughout my pregnacy with R, Jeff dutifully went to my prenatal checkups, excited to see for himself what was going on with the development of our first-born. This time around he is happy to stay at home with our crazy toddler and has resigned himself to a cheerful "been there, done that" mentality. However, we both decided that it made sense for him to come with me to my ultrasound last week. I wanted moral support and we thought it would be nice if he could be there to "see" his child for the first time and possibly learn the sex.

When we walked into the ultrasound room, Melissa introduced herself as our ultrasound technician (UT) and Jeff worked on getting R situated on the floor with her arsenal of activities. (In typical fashion, we had already been waiting for over 30 minutes, first in the main waiting room, then in a second waiting area, and R was already getting bored with this process.) Apparently once she got started with the ultrasound, Melissa was not one for stopping her work, and she consequently began smearing about a half gallon of goop on my belly to ensure that she would have enough for the entire ultrasound. As she smeared, we chatted. Our conversation went something like this.

UT: You're big for 20 weeks.
Me: Yeah, but it's my second pregnancy, I'm little, and I was measuring right for one baby at my last appointment, so no one seems to be concerned.
UT: Do you think it might be twins?
Me: We haven't ruled it out...

I smiled and realized that Melissa was ready to get on with business. She places the wand on my belly, then looks at the swirly blob on the screen. Melissa then freezes and holds up two fingers. I see some really crazy unfocused blobs on the screen and think she is holding up two fingers meaning to wait, like other (normal) people hold up one finger meaning "wait a minute." Apparently the thing was just not working.

Time passes and she is still holding up two fingers. I still see blobs. I start to wonder if she is giving me the peace sign.

More time passes and she is still standing there, holding up two fingers. I still see blobs and seem to remember my ultrasound with R being a whole lot clearer. I wonder if the two fingers is some code that I was supposed to have learned. I am awfully lazy about reading up on baby stuff.

I finally decide to break the silence.

Me: Two?
UT: Two.
Me: Two???
UT: Two.
Me: Two WHAT?
UT: Two babies.
Me: Huh?
UT: Twins.
Me: Ohhhh.

With a look of complete panic on her face, Melissa then says, "Hold on. I have to find out what to do." She then starts shuffling around and then bolts for the door. Right before she gets there, she turns around and tells me, "Usually they don't want me to do ultrasounds of twins. The docs don't handle twin cases. They pass them on to high-risk doctors." I then noted that if it made any difference as to whom she would consult, I wasn't a patient of the OBs in the practice. I was a patient of the midwives in the practice. Her look of terror went up a couple of notches and she silently high-tailed it out of the room.

As the door slammed shut behind her, that left me and Jeff staring at each other each realizing that we were suddenly leaping from our nice, sensible family with one child into the crazy world of "big" families. And R just kept on coloring.