Feeling the Need to Write (about the Squirrel)

Greetings strange people.

No, you're not supposed to start a blog entry with a greeting, like a diary.  But it's been so long since I've updated this blog with something substantial that, well, I felt like I ought to welcome (both of) you back.

So, yeah.  I have my YouTube channel.  I'm on Facebook and twitter.  I have a work webpage and a business one.   But sometimes, I need to write.  I need to process everything out of my brain via the written word.

So, there are lots of things I need to process in the blog:  losing weight and how different that does not make me feel, tidying up the house, my new relaxed approach to gardening, peaking at work in one's 50s, etc.

But today is dedicated to the Squirrel.  It's probably going to be the first in a series.  But right now, she gets today's brain space.

So, we've known for a while that Bridget is very smart.  I hate to say that because it sounds like bragging.  But it's clear that Bridget is a clever child.  She started talking in 4 word sentences. Her French skills are outstanding; she's almost a native speaker. She can argue like a lawyer, even though she doesn't have all the facts straight. Or maybe *because* she doesn't have all the facts straight.  Her math skills are top of the charts.  She's a clever little Squirrel.

But she can't read for shit.

And it's been a problem for at least 4 years.  When she started writing, she wrote her name in perfect mirror.  She will say Ma for Am.  She can decode a word in a sentence but when she sees it 4 words later, it's completely foreign to her.  Every word is a struggle.

Do you see where I'm going here?

Yeah.  We got the final diagnosis 3 weeks ago:  Bridget has dyslexia.

But there are several fortunate components to this diagnosis.

First, it is verified that Bridget is a smart kid.  As the doc says, she definitely has the horse power in her engine.

Second, she only has one area of dyslexia that's a problem.  I'm not going to say which because we are awaiting the final doc report, but it's a common one?  An easy one??  One in which the doc thinks that once her special training/tutoring kicks in, she's going to really ramp up on her reading skills.

Third, we are keeping her in French school.  Her gift for oral language and know vocabulary is at the top of the charts.  It's a real intellectual "gift."  I'm not taking that away from my child.  And both her teacher and the doc feel that improving reading in one language will boost improvements in reading in the other.  It's a decoding problem.  Bridget already understands that different languages make different sounds.  So decoding a phoneme in English won't impeded decoding a phoneme in French once the tutor helps her brain make the phoneme decoding connection.

We are reading Overcoming Dyslexia, a research based book by a Yale prof on what dyslexia really (differences in brain wiring) and how to help kids and adults improve their writing.  Honestly, the stories from the prof's cases are SO CLOSE to Bridget, that I feel like she must be the prototypical dyslexic kid:  Smart, talkative, creative, logical, math gifted, and can't read for shit.  

We've explained to her that she's a clever child but her brain wiring is different from other kids and that's why she can't read.  She was honestly HAPPY to learn that.  She knows she can't read and others can.  To hear that a doc said she was smart but her brain is wired differently from most kids---but wired similarly to a bunch of other smart kids---was a relief to her.

She's really looking forward to tutoring.  She's really looking forward to learning to finally read.  She likes being a smart kid who is a little funky.

I'm not going to hide this because there's nothing "wrong" with Bridget.  There's nothing wrong with *you* and all *your* funky things. It's what makes us ourselves.  I do not ascribe shame to dyslexia and Mama Bear will come out and say some ugly words if anyone tries to shame her for something that she likely inherited.  (Yeah.  Reading the book, I'm definitely on the dyslexia continuum)

So there.  I have a honorary MD in infertility.  Our pediatrician has already said that I have an honorary MD in pediatric pulminology.  Now, with the blessing and encouragement from the doc who diagnosed Squirrel, it's time for me to get an honorary Master's in Dyslexia tutoring and advocacy.  Apparently, this is one dx that all parents *have* to become experts to navigate the public school system and to make sure their child thrives.

Clearly, this is the first in a series of blog posts.....

A More Fun Update

So, imagine my chagrin after I posted my seemingly witty and insightful (by my standards) update about how much easier it gets when the kids get older and then realizing as I go back, that, umm, I pretty much wrote that same post in April. And my April post was only 3 or 4 posts ago.

Wow.

That's pathetic.

The thing is, I'm writing tons, just not here. I'm updating facebook, twitter, Google +, and my professional blog (all are available through a google search), but I'm not doing much here. And when I do post here, it's repetitive.

WELL NO MORE! At least for today.

What do you come here for? Updates on kids and what it's like to be a crazy working mother of three. Here goes.

Conor is having a very lazy summer. There is a bit more TV watching than I am going to admit, which we believe has lead to an increase in sarcastic responses to the parental units. So ix-nay the ickelodean-nay. Even Nick Jr. But yes, I am letting him watch Looney Tunes and Tom and Jerry and even a little Scooby Doo. On the one hand, it's not PBS. On the other, it's so engaging that the child will spend 15 minutes re-telling and re-enacting the entire story for me. The most animated conversations I've ever had with Conor involve cartoons.

I now know as much about Tom and Jerry as I do about Conor's entire kindergarten year. It must be a guy thing because although I watched Tom and Jerry as a child, I never knew which one was which. When Dave and I were talking about this, Dave said "Well, of course, Tom is the cat." It never occurred to me. Then again, Dave can quote Bugs Bunny ("I should have taken that left at Albuquerque") and still does.

Bridget continues to blow my mind and explode my heart. Some parents, like Ayelet Waldeman, love their husband more than their children. I love my husband very much. But I fall in love with my children on a daily basis. Bridget is amazing. Her vocabulary and pronunciation is well beyond what it should be at this age. And her will! Her strong sense of self! Her hatred of bees! Wha?

Apparently at school this week, the teacher heard Bridget yelling NO! NO! and thought she was having a fight. Indeed, she was: a fight with a bee! She was smacking the bee on her arm with a spoon and yelling No! No! at it stung her. The teacher got the bee off her arm and Bridget cried just a bit. And then went back to eating her breakfast. No Damn Bee is going to get the best of my girl!

She is so strong willed and determined to let everyone know what she thinks that when our (still alive and perhaps not deaf) cat gets on our bed at night (after a 5 year absence in which we actually didn't miss her) and meows/howls until we pet her, Bridget will wake up in the morning, get in the cat's face, and say loudly NO! NO! That Scarlett (the cat) is also known as Psycho Kitty and is afraid of this imp should tell you something.

Bridget likes to tell Patches that he is a Good Dog! She told us this week what she wanted to wear "tomorrow"---actually saying "tomorrow". She blows us away and I cannot wait to get to know her better as more of her personality develops. (Although that statement alone conjures up scary images. More!? MORE!?!)

Christopher has become my best surprise. There is so much going on inside of his head. Of all three children, he has the deepest and quickest emotions--which reminds me of an adult in this house and it's not Dave. He can go from Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy to melting in .3 seconds. And his scowly face! I love it!! If it's a new situation or person, do not expect a smile. But don't be offended if you get the scowly face. Of course, as soon as we call him on it, it's a grin. But it shocks most people to begin with.

I am pretty sure I've talked about his sugar spot already---that place on his neck that is my favorite place to kiss in the world. All I have to do is ask for it, and he laughs and yells NO!! And runs, fully expecting me to chase him and eat him up. Christopher is also very funny--and Conor does not like to hear us say that. Still, Christopher can crack us up, with his sneaky grin and an impish look in his eye as he takes off running and swinging his one arm. I don't know why he does that, but when he Runs Hard, he bends his right arm and pumps it back and forth as he runs. That's how we can tell he's Running Hard. And if he's just standing there and pumping his arm, then we know he's dancing.

He also sings a lot. There are two favorite songs: Hello Everybody from school (Bridget "sings" it too. Actually, she just yells it) and Daddy's Home! (one of my original tunes that involves clapping and, well, you know the words already). And then there's the tweaking. Both the twins are obsessed with boobage. Mine, mostly, but here lately, Christopher has taken to lifting his own shirt and tweaking himself. That is odd. We are open to the children exploring their own bodies and appreciating them, but this one is just weird (not to be too judgmental about it). Any level of anxiety and that child whips his shirt up and tweaks his nipp.

I'm assuming this is a phase and we won't have this issue in high school. NONETHELESS. I was expecting touching in, ahem, other places and have the stock supportive yet directive sentence to use with the older boy in the house (WHICH I STILL SAY 5 TIMES A DAY), but "I know that feels good, but do that in private in your room or the bathroom" really doesn't seem to fit with a nipple tweaking.

In any case, I'm sure Christopher will be glad in the future that I've shared that. (As will Conor).

Finally, Me. Dave can update his own dadbum blog. (Or just a facebook status, honey!) I am enormous. I am the fattest I've been in my life without having a couple of other humans inside of me. Those two years of eating all I wanted while pg and breastfeeding were great. Unfortunately, as the twins stopped eating so much of me, I didn't stop eating so much of everything else. I'm sort of eating less and sort of exercising more, but so far no weight has escaped. I just discovered how much fun it is for Conor to go on a bike ride with me while I run. That's actually A LOT of fun and it's been tough to run without him.

This week's adventure involved finding the house where is best neighborhood friend is moving to. It's very close to where we are now, so we ran/biked past it. I got so excited when I saw their house that I missed the uneven sidewalk. Actually, I didn't miss it. I hit it dead on. This is the 3rd time in over 20 years that I've fallen while running. All three times, everything goes very slowly right after I trip. My thoughts speed up and slow down at the same time. "Uh-oh. I could fall. I am falling. I could catch myself. Can I catch myself? Whoops. No." Whacka whacka thunk. Knees, pelvis, hands, face. Thunk.

The outcome is that I clearly landed on my left knee first and it is currently covered in Winnie the Pooh bandaids. I somehow landed on my pelvis (?) and have an enormous bruise on my hooha. Seriously! Who bruises their hooha when they fall? I'm blaming the twins and my c-section and my lack of any sort of lower stomach muscles on that one. Otherwise, I am so uncoordinated and unconventionally contorted when I fall that people actually SHOULD point and laugh when I run by. Or get out of my way. Finally, my face has a couple of sidewalk rashes and I bruised my cheek.

I am very pretty right now. A bruised tomato on toothpicks, although at this weight, more like straws.

So now you have a blog post more like what I used to write. It takes a long time to write like this and I have a boatload of other things to write---including my REAL work--journal articles. But sometimes, I have to get these things out of my head--the things that keep me from going to sleep at night. In any case, now it's time to go write on Virtual Health Communities, which actually is sort of fun right now.

Well, Poop

What an amazing weekend. There is something about the south in the spring that is prettier than any other season in any other part of the country I've lived in. All the flowering dogwoods and cherry treas, vibrant pink azaleas, and, um, flowering flowers are so pretty after the gray of winter. But what I think is even prettier is all the shades of green from the trees as they start to get leaves again. By the middle of summer, it's all one hot, oppressive shade of green. But now, it's all vibrant colors and 15 shades of green that make me so happy to move from winter to spring.

And we FINALLY have the house and the yard in a livable condition. When we moved back in November '09, the yard was completely destroyed from all the workers and their equipment. The vegetable garden had been mostly neglected and with less than 1 year old twins, we made the easy decision to neglect it again. Even the perennial got no attention besides mulch and superficial weeding.

Worse than all of that was that we didn't have a deck anymore on the back of the house and it wasn't clear where we should put our outdoor table and chairs to hang out and "enjoy" our backyard.

Who the hell am I kidding. There was not a lot of "enjoying" last year. What were we thinking having twins and remodeling the house at the same time? I don't know how we could have done it any other way but holy crap, that was a rough time.

IN ANY CASE, for the last month, we've been working in our yard. Dave put in cedar raised beds for the garden and just this weekend we finished putting up a gorgeous architectural bunny and rat proof fence (designed by Dave's DIY Home By Design--available for hire and/or babysitting services, inquire within). Pictures to follow; they are on the other computer.

It's been wonderful getting the yard to where I thought it should have been last year. Who knew, really, how much work a remodel is *after* the remodel!?

But even better--the TWINS! Are EASIER!! They PLAY!! With each other!!! With Conor!!! And even though a re-enactment of Bridget at any point during the day would include the words "Mommy. Mommy!! MOMMY!! MOMMMYYYY! MOMMY! Mommy. Mommy!! MOMMY!!" we can do things when they are awake and that is a freedom I am excited about.

Speaking of freedom, both twins have shown some interest in potty training. I think they are really young, but they want to sit on the potty. And we're happy to let them do it.

Yesterday, we thought, Hey!! It's warm out! Let's give them some freedom and let them run around without their diapers on and practice sitting on the potty. What's the worst that could happen?

What is the worst, indeed.

It was not more than 5 minutes before Bridget started running around the backyard with her diaper in hand. Fine. She wants to play with her undies; I wonder what the neighbors will think. At this point she still had her jumper on and I thought it would be good to take it off in case she peed and got her clothes wet. I ran after her and she ran to steps outside the garage.

I scooper her up. "What is that smell," I thought. "Did she toot?"

Ummmm, no.

I looked down at a poop on the stairs to the garage. Did the cat get outside?? Did some other apparently large cat poop on our steps?

There were olives. No cat I know eats olives. Bridget on the other hand. . .

YIKES! I yelled and made Dave come over and look because that's exactly the kind of wife and mother that I am.

I ran back inside to get some wipes to clean Bridget up and finally take off her jumper.

I see Patches wending his way towards the garage, curious at this new smell.

LEAVE IT!! LEAVE IT!!! Patches slinks away.

I clean up Bridget. And then I go to clean up the steps to the garage.

What the.....???? Where the.....??? PATCHES!??!!?! PATCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'd strongly suggest you don't let Patches kiss you any time soon. I'm just saying.

Spring

I hate to keep changing the background and layout of my blog, but I am still not completely satisfied with it. I would like it to be fancy and eye-catching, but not so busy. Sort of like how I'd like my own life to be. ((Rudely laughing at my own joke))

So, um, yeah! Here we are in spring. Work-wise, I need to be reviewing abstracts for a conference and what I'd really rather do (besides writing constructive comments) is just to turn in my short assessments to the conference organizers:

1) Hell No

2) Yes, great job

3) Yes, but as a poster or interactive session

3) Nope.

That should be enough. It's relevant for conference organizers, but, alas, does not have enough specific feedback for the authors. (Really? Ya, think)

In mother news, Bridget was given an "incident report" this week for biting another child. The good news is that it is fully clear in the report that she was defending herself from the tooth-y onslaught of the other child. That is, she wasn't the aggressor--someone was trying to bite her, she knew someone was trying to bite her, and she got the first bite in, probably right after she said "Listen, fool." (She can channel Mr T when she is defending herself)

In working mother news, I have a much better internet connection, we have a printer that works, and the cat is still alive. Let me back up a moment. A month. Ummm, two months.

Two months ago, in that I took a work-life balance class for mid-level women academics at our university: How the heck are we supposed to do this thing called A Career that allows us to have A Life, too. I honestly don't know if that is possible, but one thing we worked on was our "tolerations." Tolerations are those annoyances you have in your life that if you took 10 minutes or $10 (or maybe a bit more investment of time/money), you could solve the problem and your life wouldn't have those niggling "tolerations" any more.

For me, besides exercise, some of the big tolerances we've been putting up with around the house is crappy internet service (from AT&T U-verse) and no working printer. As someone who works A LOT from home, these are problems. The night of the workshop, Dave read my list of tolerations and within 3 days, had fixed them. Or at least, these two. The Messy House toleration is ongoing. Let's just stop for a second and talk about how wonderful my husband is, shall we? Yes, he's wonderful. Ok, moving on...

What bothered me about ME is that I had also included on my list of tolerations: Cat Won't Die.

Really? Really, Anita????? It is a daily annoyance to you that your Cat Won't Die. What kind of heartless bitch am I? A pretty big one, apparently.

In my defense, the cat is 18 years old. If she were a child, we would be exploring college opportunities right now. It would be time for her to move on. She also howls at night. LOUDLY. Right by the bed. That is annoying. Especially since sleep is so precious right now, an 18 year old cat howling by the bed is a toleration, that could be solved. By, ummm. Well, a shoe would be a less extreme solution than death.

Of course, feeling very guilty, I started paying a bit more attention to the cat. And that's when we realized that she is completely deaf. I have no idea how long she's been deaf. But she is completely and utterly deaf. That's why she's howling. In the middle of the night she has no idea what anyone is doing and would kind of like the world to know she's still alive. (Fortunately, she cannot read and did not know of her place on my list of daily annoyances/tolerations).

So she is still alive and she is not on my list of tolerations any more. We are also paying her more attention and she is not howling as much.

Finally, a funny professor story. After I give lectures, I will often write notes to myself on the syllabus or on the PowerPoint slides if there was a problem and if I should revise the lecture. This week, I gave my lecture on Stress in the workplace and I had written on the opening slide (so as to catch my attention) "This is a BORING lecture!! FIX!" So, I did. I added more exercises and more places for the students to contribute their own feedback and experiences.

Then, yesterday when I was reviewing my notes before class, I realized: I had uploaded the PowerPoint slides on the web....and had not taken off my note: "This is a BORING lecture!! FIX!" Yes! On the first slide!! The first thing the students saw when they looked at the slides was how awful class was going to be this week!! And yes, they did notice it!

Great!!

What I appreciated was during the class, I kept asking: Are you bored? how am I doing? I absolutely LOVE the student who said, "I'm not bored, but I am less enthused than I was."

We stopped and did an exercise.

Incongruity

Here is a picture of the twins' Halloween costume. Yes, they were adorable! So adorable, in fact, that they were featured on the front page of the online Charlotte Observer for 3 hours the day after Halloween! And yes, I AM bragging about that. I have always felt that feeling "proud" of some other person's accomplishment is a bit narcissistic, reflecting in some way your involvement in someone else's accomplishment (which is rarely the case). It's why I'm often very, very happy for other people, but rarely "proud" of them.

NONETHELESS, I am so proud of how cute they look and that they were on the front page of our local newspaper's online edition. Ha! I even love that in that picture they have become Thing 1 and Thing 2 looking adorably like imps about to do something bad. :-)

The incongruity comes from talking about Halloween when I also want to talk about last night's HORRIBLE night of (no) sleep. We're in the 18 month sleep regression. I vividly remember this stage with Conor and was convinced we were doing something wrong; that the co-sleeping was coming back to bite us on the butt.

Ummm, no.

This is a normal stage in which children's brains explode and their sleeping stops. We're back to newborn waking. Add on to that Bridget's bronchitis and her coughing so hard in her sleep she wakes up screaming (and puking! Thanks, Dave, for taking that one for the team last night!). and there is not enough coffee in the day to help me think clearly.

And thank ye gods and goddesses that I am past tenure, so I work, but not kill myself getting papers out over the next 4 months while we get through this stage. Yes, I'm still planning on submitting 4 conference papers and a journal submission in the next 4 months (one is already done), but I'm not planning on 4 additional journal submissions in the next 4 months. That's the difference and it is a big one.

So there. That's what is on my mind. And that is how scattered I think and what has become the new normal for us. It works. :-)

Soccer

So yes, we remain busy around here. With an active and exciting life. (The irony in that statement will become apparent later on) Why, just Friday night, both babies (ok, they are toddlers now), both toddlers had one mighty explosive puke each and the dog ate our dinner right off the table.

And we have recently decided to take a 3 to 6 month hiatus from eating out at restaurants. Bridget absolutely cannot sit in her chair when we are out any more. She *has* to go around to every table and wave "Hi!" to the people sitting there. Yes, she is adorable and yes everyone melts when she arrives at their table. But it's getting too much and we're afraid her light-of-1000 suns cuteness will wear out for others sooner than it will for us.

Christopher continues to blow us away. Apparently, he has become the leader in his daycare class. He picks up whatever the other children drop and give it to them. When they are playing in the sandbox, he hugs every child in there. And when they come back in from the playground, he leads all the children over to the sink to wash their hands.

I have to be honest with you: it's overwhelming enough to fall in love with one child every day. My head and heart are going to explode falling in love with 3 children day in and day out. That part between Conor and the twins--the 8 miscarriages---that part sucked. But this part is extra-special sweet.

So, umm, soccer! Yeah.

Conor has started playing soccer and it is really a lot of fun. First, at 99.9th percentile height, it is relatively easy to pick him out on the field. Second, Conor has perfected an advanced move to psych the opposing team out while he plays: skipping. Perhaps you saw that at the world cup this year? No? Really? Additionally, Conor has an innate enthusiasm about life (from me) and very long arms (from Dave). Let's just say, that while he is skipping, his arms are also wildly swinging about in happiness for playing the game. He is noticeable.

He is also not aggressive out there. He is not a ball-hog and keeps a fair distance from the action as if he has been told to play defense. (He has not) So during the first game, when out of nowhere he ran through the crowd and with a sliding-on-the-ground kick kept the opponent's ball from scoring, we were a wee bit surprised. So was he, we noticed, as he stayed in that position for a few beats replaying his defensive move in his head and looking towards us, grinning, to see if we noticed. Yes. Yes we did, we cheered to him.

He has since, in the last two games, scored a couple of goals and is gaining some confidence. He seems to really enjoy it and the nights after practice or a game, he goes to bed quite easily. Yay! Easy bedtimes are a cause for celebration around here.

We also enjoy getting to see other kids and experience the range of normal. Our favorite story thus far involves a sweet boy on the first night of practice. Let me preface this by saying that Conor's old teacher told us that 6 years old is a preview for puberty. If that's true, we are screwed. I never thought that 10% of the utterances I made to my son would be some variation of "keep your hands off your penis." We are MUCH more discreet than that and we don't want to introduce any shame to a natural act, but there are only so many times one can say such a thing before one wants to shout "STOP DOING THAT!" (which we never have)

So back to soccer practice. Perhaps you can guess where I am going with this.

Dave was standing near the boy's nanny as called him over in the middle of practice. She told him they needed a code word that she could shout out to him during practice so that he would stop "touching his pants."

The boy thought very deeply for minute. Then he suggested to her "How about: Let go of the tiger tail?"

I will wait for you to stop laughing. And I will brag on both my husband and the nanny that neither of them laughed (out loud) at that child. Indeed, the nanny just matter of factly said to the boy, "How about: Tiger tail."

Tiger tail, indeed. Dave and I have routinely been shouting Tiger Tail to each other around the house and for no reason mentioned previously except that it makes us laugh really hard.

I continue to blog that it's crazy around here. You should continue to think that. Sometimes, it still shocks me that we have twins. That we have 3 children! And that we're only at the beginning of this crazy ride. Ah, well. It's crazy but it's our brand of crazy and so far it's still pretty good.

Firsts

Conor, in his school uniform, on his first day of school.

Bridget on her first day of daycare.

Christopher on his first day of daycare.

Things are going well. Conor learned the French ABCs today and has been practicing saying Bonjour to all of us. We are still working out his bus issues, but it will be fixed soon.

Bridget and Christopher are having a rough time in daycare. Bridget is miserable there and perfectly fine at home. Christopher is ok there, and clingy to the extreme at home. He's actually really mad at me when I come to pick him up and, honestly, he melts into tears from the time I arrive until we get in the car. I think that's when he realizes I'm not leaving him. Their teachers are WONDERFUL and, as we asked, they are holding Bridget pretty much all day long. Things are actually getting better for her, and hopefully, they'll get better for Christopher soon.

It's all good. It's all the right things. And I'm having a lot of fun at work making progress on research projects and projects outside of the university. Work=fun is amazing.

9:30 and time for bed. We're back on marathon training schedule to get the kids to school. We're just not running now.

Viral Pneumonia

Now that's a blog title!

Um, so, uh, yeah! It's been a busy week. First, viral pneumonia is not nearly as bad as bacterial pneumonia. And, indeed, we caught Bridget's viral pneumonia/chest cold early.

Ok. So let's back up a bit. Bridget appeared to come down with croup (from her brother, as you may recall) last Monday. I am not that worried about croup, so I saw no need to call the doctor. And then Bridget sort of melted over both Dave and me and wouldn't move from sitting in our lap with her head on our shoulder.

Lethargy is never a good sign in a feisty child, particularly one with a fever.

Additionally, Monday night, Bridget started throwing up. Tuesday morning, we opted to go in to the doctor, because again, Bridget could not even lift her head off our shoulder.

I expected the doc to give me another lecture about how viruses can cause croup, blah, blah, but instead he put Bridget right on a nebulizer. Fortunately, her breathing cleared up so no need for x-rays or oxygen. Instead, we went home with an albuterol inhaler and orders to come back Friday.

The virus continued this course for a while. Bridget has no energy, ran a high-ish fever (102 to 104), threw up, and as she got better, had diarrhea. And of course, there was the junky cough. Coughs are not good indicators of chest colds/viral pneumonias. Lethargy is. REMEMBER THAT if your child loses all his or her energy.

So, yeah. She's better now. The ultra-conservative doctor put her on an antibiotic which freaked both Dave and me out. This doc HATES antibiotics and to give her one without her having a bacterial infection really freaked me out.

In any case, school starts back next week and I am completely not ready for it. Last week, I had planned on doing what I'm doing this week. But I couldn't leave my little baby while she was this sick. So I'm trying to catch up this week before next week starts. I'm a wee bit freaked out.

Life With Twins

Do you want to know what life with twins is like? Do you want to know why Mothers of Multiples (MOMS) say it's much harder than you can imagine? Let me share this story with you.

Let's say you have a twin, a twin with floppy windpipe, something that while noisy is not that dangerous. Unless the child develops croup. At this point, it is prudent to put this child on prednisone to reduce the swelling in the throat and help the child breathe. This is a good thing. There is just one caveat: the major side effect of hyperactivity. Let's, hypothetically, call this twin: Christopher.

So on a Friday night when Christopher's twin sister falls asleep at 7:30, Christopher is a whirling dervish around the family room, giddily playing with every toy he can and manically running back and forth along the room until, oh, say 10:30. On the second night of medication, his parents look up whether benadryl can be given along with prednisone and, lo and behold, IT CAN! So on Saturday night, Bridget passes completely out at 7:30 and Christopher is only up until 9:30.

Not being slow, the parents of a twin on prednisone will, on the third and final night of medication, give benadryl right after dinner. And HOORAY! Christopher goes to sleep at exactly the right bedtime of 7:30. And so does his sister! Hooray! Hooray!

But that's not what it's like to be parents of twins. No. The twin god laughs when both babies go to sleep at the same time after two hellish nights. Nope, life with twins means that the sister twin wakes up at 7:50 and refuses to go back to sleep. With just one child, a) we would be enjoying a free night tonight or b) we would have enjoyed two previously free nights. But instead, we have one child peacefully sleeping and another happily playing, having had two amazing nights of sleep under her belt.

So, there. We were away for a good 11 day trip to see Dave's family in the midwest. AND WE DROVE! Yes! 6 days in the car for an 11 day trip. It wasn't as bad as you might imagine, and there were a couple of unexpected highlights including a hotel bathroom that opened into the bedroom and zooming (and subsequent squeals of laughter from the kids) over Ohio hills in Amish country. There was also an AMAZING thunderstorm and 12 straight hours of lightening. There was so much continuous lightening at one point that I thought a police car was outside the house and the lights were flashing through the window.

More, more, more to share. Christopher is walking now and has been for two weeks. Conor starts kindergarten in three weeks. The twins start daycare (AND NOT A MOMENT TOO SOON) in 4 weeks.

I'm not giving up this blog. I know I say that every (rare) time I update. I'm not ready to give it up yet. I am ready for a little more free time, but I have no control over when that is going to happen again.

Why, Hello There!

Yes, yes, still around. Not leaving. Hopefully, when things settle down in August as far as kindergarten and daycare, I'll have a little more space to get back to blogging. (To document my life? To work out troublesome issues? To help others?) I'm sure the reasons will evolve, but let's consider today a Documenting Blog.

Let's review the last 7 days, shall we? (feel free to scan the first sentence of each paragraph to hit the highlights and get out of this long entry)

Last Tuesday, Conor lost his first baby tooth. I'm not sure when it's supposed to start but his lost his at 5 years and 10 months. And not only that, his first permanent tooth is coming in and, indeed, is what knocked out his baby tooth. And if it's incoming position is any indication---braces are in our future.

Last Wednesday, Bridget took her first 6 steps. It was the first time she had taken more than a few steps while cruising. Even more exciting, Dave and I got to see it together. That's not always the case if you're not a SAHM or a SAHD, so we were pretty psyched. By Thursday, she was walking across rooms. Christopher was not amused at all the attention she was getting and by Thursday afternoon, every time we cheered for Bridget, he performed what we call Trick #2: Clapping his hands. So it became a cheer-a-thon of being excited for Bridget and rewarding Christopher for clapping. (Do think think there's sibling rivalry? By Friday, Bridget had figured out how to clap and Christopher was taking 2 steps before falling forward into the closest person's arms)

On Friday, Conor graduated from preschool. I had expected that I would weep at the passage of my little boy out of the daycare we have loved since he was 4 months old. (Conor is staying home the rest of the summer with the nannies and then with me when I take July off work) No. I cried as some of Conor's special needs classmates triumphantly performed in the graduation ceremony just as well and enthusiastically as Conor's "typical" classmates did. (Ummmm, everyone did)

Sunday was the twins' first birthday party. It was a lot of fun and pretty cool that we were able to invite a lot of neighbors over with their children who are about the same age as the twins. Conor was the only baby in the 'hood when he was born. Now, we have 3 1 year olds within a 5 house radius. That's exciting.

On the other hand, remembering back to what happened a year ago when the twins were born was not a lot of fun. In fact, I was sad. My twins are perfectly happy and healthy now. And they are at least developmentally caught up if not ahead. But the day they were born sucked. I got to see them for 10 minutes total that day and they were covered in tubes and wires and did not look like healthy babies. EVERYTHING TURNED OUT FINE. I know. But that is not what parents have in mind when they think about their babies' arrival.

So where are we?

OK--Monday, the babies had their first year check ups. Christopher is clocking in at 80th percentile weight and 85th percentile height. He is 4 ounces less than what Conor weighed at one year...and one inch taller. YIKES. He is going to be huge. Bridget remains at 15th percentile weight, but 50th percentile height!! She is a skinny baby with ginormous feet, if I have to describe her.

So yes, that has been my last 7 days. There was also a baby shower in there and some massive cake decorating going on (must post pictures), but you get the idea.

I am also teaching summer school (love it) and Conor is out of school for the rest of the summer. (There are a few camps coming up, but he's going to have fun and goof off this summer before school starts)

I do have more to say, but honestly, I hate reading long blog entries. And Conor and I are reading Charlotte's Web together, so it's time for me to go.

What A Week

Sometimes, I have to work really hard to come up with the prose to make things sound interesting around here. And sometimes, it sort of writes itself.

Obviously, you can be the judge of whether our last week has been as eventful as I think or whether I should have spent a bit more time, effort and actually grown some talent to make it seem more compelling.

Let's just go chronologically, shall we? Friday, Nanny #2 and I were discussing a blister/sore that Nanny #1 had noticed on Bridget on Thursday. I had said, on Thursday, "Oh, she must be sucking her hands and fingers and got a blister. Babies do that when they're born, you know." Then Nanny #2 said, "Wow, it really looks like a burn."

Ding ding ding ding ding. I rewound my brain and remembered when Bridget stuck her hand between the bottom of the hot oven door and the top of the oven storage drawer. She had only cried for a moment and when I stuck my hand in there it wasn't hot. Apparently, though, it was.

A quick trip to the doctor and a diagnosis of a 2nd degree burn and instructions how to take care of it---neosporin and hand washing (although he showed me how to wash Bridget's hands, which annoyed the ever loving hell out of me)---and we were back, none the worse for the wear.

Then on Sunday, Conor tells us a story of how he and his new playmate found a dead mouse? And how his new friend pushed all the blood out of this dead mouse by putting a rock on top of it and squishing it. I'm not even going to try to make that more dramatic than it is, but basically I flipped out. If you'd like to know why, then read this article. In any case, how we're going to deal with this issue is still in motion, so no more comments about it here, except it freaked me (and continues to freak me) out.

Monday and Tuesday were mellow, just normal random throw up, crying, and lack of sleep. And that was just Dave!

I kid! It was our multiple offspring, but I had to put that there. Then this morning, oh, let's say at about 4 am, the random throw up (Bridget once Monday morning) became more regular (Christopher, three times in a row. then again at 7 and then again at 8:30). Since Christopher had had congestion for the last 8 months and we think it's related to allergies and our Doctor (Dr. Here's How You Wash A Child's Hands) refuses to listen to us and he was constantly yakking, we decided to take him to the doctor's office. And see another Doctor. HA! Cheating on our doctor! And trying to find one who listens and doesn't think I'm an idiot.

Surprisingly, this new-to-us Doctor DID listen to me about Christopher's congestion. Why yes, he said, 8 months a really long time for a child to be congested. Some children are born sniffley, but still. It could also be a problem. And for the first time, a doctor agreed with me that Christopher's eczema is likely related to his congestion. After diagnosing an ear infection and an unrelated stomach bug, he suggested we give Christopher a half teaspoon of benadryl to see if that will stop his congestion.

At home, Christopher had his first doses of both penicillin and benadryl, and took a nap. A long nap. A long nap in which he did not snore. For the first time since we brought him home from the hospital.

But that's not all! No, burns, mutilated mice and yakking, infected, congested children do not cover all the excitement around here! No, the last bit of thrill happened during dinner, when I looked over at Bridget and saw a growing redness around her mouth, cheeks and nose. After deciding that I was not imagining it and going through a mental checklist of what we ate new for dinner that night, I narrowed it down to the eggplant Bridget had loved so much she'd have 3 helpings. But allergic? to eggplant?! Why, yes, it is possible! And a quick call to the after hours nurse made me very, very grateful that we'd bought children's benadryl today. The nurse was as excited as I was, saying that if we didn't have it, she would have stayed on the phone as Dave had gone out to get it, come back and give it to Bridget. Yeah.

She is fine now. We have to give her another dose in 6 hours but the rash went away in about 45 minutes. And tonight, she and Christopher are both sleeping well and breathing well. We know this because we've been checking on them quite a bit. But no more eggplant at our house. I fully realize that I am the only person mourning that fact. But it also scares me that Bridget has a food she can't eat again. It sort of freaks one out to know that something she could eat could make her sick. Or worse.

It's been an eventful week. I would just as soon it not be eventful any more. I could use boring. I could stand to be bored for a while now.

She's Alive!

Yes, we're still alive over here in the Mother Thing household. But just barely. I have a ton of things I want to blog about, some factual/chronological and some more meditation on current events in our family.

However.

I don't have the time. It's 8:00 over here and although Christopher is sound asleep, Bridget is practicing her cruising. Oh the joys of a 9 month old and her sleep. In any case, the good news is that Bridget sleeps almost the entire night once she gets to sleep. It's just getting her to sleep and getting her to stop waving and cruising and practicing saying Da Da that's the issue. The big difference between us as parents with Conor and us as parents with Christopher and Bridget? Instead of sitting in their room and rocking and rocking and rocking and rocking (and rocking), we just bring her back downstairs and do some work until she gets sleepy. Then lickety split, she's back in bed and asleep. I have no doubt that's All Wrong (for your family), but it works for us. You try convincing her that little girls who can wave can sleep just as well as little girls who can't.

Speaking of other baby issues, I used my infant CPR this morning. This was not a fun event, in case you're wondering. We were eating breakfast and Christopher appeared to be having problems swallowing. Since he had a cold, we figured he had some sort of mucus issue that was causing the problem or that the livermush (!) he was eating was too big. Then I looked over and he was making the choking face: Mouth open, struggling, no sound. I picked him up out of his seat, threw him upside down over my left arm and began to thump him with my right arm. I would like to say that I was incredibly focused and not at all feeling adrenaline. It took two thumps and then it came off of his windpipe, he coughed and it came out of his mouth. it was a velcro round from one of Conor's toys. Dave and I were actually still pretty calm by this point, but Conor was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't until after Christopher started his comfort boob that Conor poked his head back in the dining room again. It scared the carp out of him. I honestly though that the infant CPR class they made us take before we could take the babies out of NICU was b.s. Now? Not so much.

In better baby news, the twins were dedicated at church on Sunday. It was a beautiful ceremony and they were angels. Yes, I do owe you pictures of them (and the house) soon.

Speaking of the house, the great irony of the remodel is that we have more work to do on the house now than we did before the remodel. That annoys me!! We were hoping to have a few years of doing nothing, but we still have to decorate, organize, etc. etc. for a while more. And the CLEANING! It takes a lot more work to clean this bigger house with 5 people in it than it did in a smaller house with 3.

In any case, here's something good for you to know: if you paint your house a darkish blue, it's going to change colors quite dramatically based on whether it's in the sun or the shade. And even the direction of the sun (east, south) makes a big difference. Sometimes I drive up to our house and think "Oh, dear" and sometimes (in the shade), I think our house color is really nice. It's like living in a mood ring, though, that's for sure.

OK. Bridget is eating my leg. This is generally a sign that she's ready for sleep. Let us hope.

Quirks

The twins have grown out of that blank infant stage and have started to become distinct babies. They still really dig each other, holding hands while they nurse and touching each others' faces first thing in the morning. But they are quite different as far as their personalities go.

Christopher is just like Conor was. He laughs easily and, apparently, when I sneeze, tickle him, or throw him in the air, I am the funniest mother that ever lived. And like Conor, he is not all that interested in movement. Like Conor, when you are a fat baby with a ginormo head, it's hard to actually propel yourself around with your arms and legs. Unlike Conor, Christopher has decided to just lie on the floor and kick his legs like he's trying to swim across our hardwood floors. The good news is that he has advanced from last month when he would kick his legs for a few minutes and then put his head down and sob. Now, he'll kick and perhaps even spin around a bit before he puts his head down to rest a bit and try it again. It's really the only time he gets upset. When I say he's a happy child, I mean that 95% of the time, he's amusing himself with his toys and then looking up at whoever is around, cocking his head to one side and laughing. It's hard not to run over and grab him and kiss him when he does this, so I don't even try to resist.

Bridget, on the other hand....

Well, Bridget makes you work for her smiles. They are absolutely worth the effort because her whole face will light up, but she's not giving them out for free and never giving them to strangers (who usually make her scream). And quite unlike Christopher, the child is very, very mobile. She's not crawling yet (THANK GOD(DESS)), but she's creeping her way all over the house. The child is tiny, yet she's cover a space that is proportionately enormous just to see what is there.

She was trying to eat the mirror in our bedroom and so I put her way on the other side of the room to keep her safe. She made a beeline back to the mirror, stopping only for a minute to chew on an extension cord along the way. (A box of new baby proofing supplies arrived today, in case you were wondering) And because she is still drooling so much, we can tell where she has been crawling. Much like a giant slug, she leaves a trail of spit in her wake.

And just today, she started to growl when she crawls. She is still the queen of raspberries and feels free to use them to make comments about everything. But now, she's growling. She's not angry; she's just playing with her voice. But it's a bit disconcerting seeing this extra tiny baby crawling across the floor with a trail of slime behind her while she growls.

Speaking of disconcerting, Conor has started to really blossom into his own person. His own quite quirky person. (He is our child, you know) The latest was his proud declaration that he did not want to poop at school. While Dave agrees that he would not poop at their school, either, Conor when on to share how he will "move his poop back up inside" so he won't poop at school.

Yeah. That's one of those things that you learn about a family member that you care about and still think, "Dude, that's weird." But we shall judge not his poopitude. We've talked to him and his teachers that if he needs to go he should go. But he prefers to poop here in the bathroom he prefers to poop in (versus the other bathroom downstairs). Folks I PROMISE you, we did not put any pressure on potty training.

And then, his teacher overheard him explaining to his classmate about having a new sister "One of the good things about having a baby sister is that your parents love you more because you can be more useful." Dave and I were a bit saddened by that. Does he think we only love him b/c he's useful? No, but still! When we asked him about it, he told us that he told his classmate the good thing about having a baby brother and sister is that you can go to your room and shut the door when they start crying.

I have to be honest with you. Of all the things we would have imagined Conor to say about being a big brother, being loved more because we put him to work and the ability to get away from their crying would have not be on our top 20, even top 30, things we would have expected him to say.

So there. He's not us. Conor is his own little funky, loving, slightly bizarre and completely lovable person. He's really separating and keeping secrets and having his own opinions. And it's really nice. Quirky. But nice.

Bridget

I haven't really dedicated single blog entries to the twins as individuals, and I feel like I ought to. Although it's easy to lump them into a unit ("the twins"), they are quite unique and a lot of fun just by themselves.

Bridget is a bit of a pistol. Originally, we called out a Code Binky whenever she was going to sleep and dropped her binky. While we'll still call out Code Binky, now it's more like Bink! Bink! Bink!! to whomever is closest. And sometimes, we don't even need a binky to get worried. That's when we call out Code Bridget, which means, figure out what the problem is and fix it before all Bridget breaks loose.

The child can scream. You can be holding her when all Bridget breaks loose and not become deaf from the sound of her screams. It is obvious to others when this happens by the frozen expression on the holder's face and he/she thinks of a way to calm Bridget, and the blood coming out of the holder's ears.

That said, she is also one of the most charming people I know. This morning, she was playing in her exersaucer, and she looked down at Patches and gave him her huge toothless grin and crinkled nose. Patches was so excited by her flirting that he hopped up, trotted over to her and gave her a big kiss on her face. We really, really try to discourage the dog kisses, but I get the reason why he did it. When she smiles that charismatic smile, it's hard not to come over and scoop her up and kiss her.

Of course, now she's upstairs protesting a little about going to sleep. Dave is with her for now. I'm hoping she'll let him put her back to sleep so I can have a break. It is incredibly hard being a SAHM (even temporarily) for twins.