Chickens

I didn't know I had a hole in my heart until a flock of chickens filled it.

I love everything about these birds!  I love how they grew way too quickly from chicks to gangly teenagers.  I love their coop that Dave built and which we have painted to match our house. I love going to Renfrow Hardware in Matthews and getting chicken advice from the real farmers.

I love how the chickens put themselves to bed at night by going into their coop. I love how they still cuddle together in a corner of the coop when they sleep instead of roosting (which I hope they do eventually).

I love how we have (hopefully) finally figured out how to let them be Free Range and still protect them from the local hawks. I love how they explore and peck the backyard as a group.  I even love when Buffy gets distracted by something shiny, and when she notices the flock has moved away from her, she runs and jumps and half flies so she can catch them. I love how it still shocks me to see a multi-colored, speckled flock of birds in the rain garden, under the shrubs or meandering through the sweet potato vines. They are truly beautiful. I even love that they climb on our back porch and peer in our glass door to see what we are doing.

I love how they get excited when they see me walking towards them when they are in their run/pen and how they run towards me when I come outside and they are out exploring the yard. I love how they chase and eat crickets as if they are on a mission. I love how they eat nearly all our table scraps.  This is the stuff we would normally throw away, but now goes to the chickens to eventually feed us again as eggs.

I love how our children all have their favorite chickens and that neighbors will just stop on by to see how to see how they are doing. I love how the neighbor's dog has adopted them and how he sits at the fence by their coop, patiently and calmly watching them.  I love how Patches knows they are part of our herd and doesn't try to hurt them.  Try to herd them?  Yes.

And I love being on Egg Watch 2012.   I love that today, Angel, the Rhode Island Red, laid a beautiful speckled egg, which was her first.

 I really and truly love these chickens.

OOOOOMMMMMGGGGGG

The events described in this blog were experienced, relived, and written about with a great deal of hand flapping and use of the phrase OOOOOOMMMMMGGGGG.

Please consider this your fair warning that should you continue reading this entry, you, too, may start hand flapping and saying OOOOOOMMMMMMGGGGGG.

Still reading?

Are you sure?

Cause here we go.  Seriously, turn away.

OK.

Conor walked in on Dave and me.

(((Hand flapping)))

NO, we didn't have the door locked but in our defense it was only 10:00 at night and everyone had theoretically been asleep for a while.

(((Hand flapping)))

So, do you remember that episode of Modern Family when something similar happened?  Do you remember the debate between Claire and Phil about whether they should talk about it or just ignore it?  Well, I'd suggest that is based on real life.

Pretty soon after our initial PARENTING FAIL, I checked on Conor to make sure he was not actively gouging his eyes out.  He was ok and not obviously traumatized, so we went to bed.

I had a restless night of nightmares in which I'm pretty sure I flapped my hands.  Yes, I know it's not completely unusual for something like that to happen in other families.  But NO ONE recounts their own personal episode to their friends as young adults in college without some horror and psychic wounds.

So the next day, I had to work and Dave stayed home with the kids.  (Have I shared how the twins are out of daycare this summer and we are cobbling together nannies and camps to make it until our new daycare opens?  No?  Well, let that be one excuse for why I haven't posted this summer)

So when I got home, I asked Dave if he had talked to Conor.  "NO!" he replied, his Midwestern preference for denying any issues showing through. (Maybe it's a dude thing--or just my dude's thing--instead of the  Midwest, but I'm going to attribute it to an entire regional culture and annoy everyone else instead)

So, I waited until Dave took the twins up to bed and Conor and I were watching some movie on Family TV.  For some reason, that feels more wholesome, whereas not much of this story does.

"So, Conor, how are you doing?  Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

"Last night, I was really embarrassed.  That was awkward!"

"Yeah!"

"Are you ok?  Do you want to talk about it?"

Pause.

"Are you going to have more babies?"

(((HAND FLAPPING.  Although I am proud that he knows where babies come from.  Nonetheless, HAND FLAPPING!!!)))

"No.  It's just that Mommies and Daddies do that sometimes."

"Ugh!  I'm not ever going to do that!"

"Oh, you will Conor, when you get older."

"Are you going to do that again tonight?"

(((HAND FLAPPING!)))

"No. But next time, we're going to shut the door and lock it.  We forgot to do that.  And it was embarrassing.  We're going to lock the door next time."

"Yeah, good."

(((Slight hand fluttering)))

"Ok, honey."

And then we watched the rest of the Family movie and snuggled because (I think) he was reassured we were not complete freaks and I was reassured he wasn't going to be irretrievably scarred by the whole event.

So there.  Now you, too, have events, images, and conversations seared into your own brains. I know we didn't HAVE to talk about it afterwards, but I think we should have, pretty much exactly as we did.

Still.  LOCK YOUR DOORS, PEOPLE!  That is the lesson we should all take away here.  Prevention is the best cure!!

All Aboard!

One of the fun things about having the kidlets is the new words they invent or misspeak.  As a psychologist who studies groups, it's a naturally developing, fun way to reinforce our family culture:  we have words for things that other families don't.  For example, growing up in my family, a jergle was what we called a shiver, like when "someone walks over your grave."

And, I must be honest, since our firstborn was a child of few words, the twins are coming up with a lot of the colorful new words.

They like to eat doodles for dinner and yo yo for dessert, especially the drinky and the squeezy kinds.  If they are really lucky, they will sometimes get mac-n-cheese from Jingle Bells.  And I can make some pretty good handyburgs on the grill.

They fight over who gets to play games on the patio.  Hint:  It's me.

Bridget did not like it at all when her brudder was in the house to spit.  Nor did she like it when we laughed at her pronunciation.  So she got changed what she said to "House spittle."

Recently, Bridget received a ponycorn from one of our neighbors.  Here is Conor breaking its neck.

Luckily, Daddy was able to glue it back together.  (What makes more sense when you are 2 1/2, really?  Ponycorn or unicorn?  I like ponycorn much better)

There is a phrase, though, that should you be aware of.  I mentioned a few months ago that when our children pass gas, instead of excusing themselves like normal, polite children, they proudly shout out "I tooted!!"  (Sometimes, this is less endearing than you might imagine, such as when Christopher twirled around and kept repeating it in the checkout line of Trader Joe's)

Well, the phrase has evolved.  One morning, while we were all snuggling in bed, someone tooted.  Christopher then said, "All Aboard!  Toot! Toot!" a phrase from the book Maisy's Train.  Those of us snuggling in the bed found that quite funny and our family phrase therefore evolved (language-wise, yes.  Maturity?  No).  Now, we call out,  as needed, "All Aboard!!" and identify who the conductor is.

Why might this involve you?  Well, after a close call in a public location, perhaps, say a church, we have decided that if any member of the family at any occasion warns the others with "All Aboard," it is time to hustle to a new location.  I realize that we are the only family in the world that has gas. None of the rest of you would ever do such a vulgar thing. But it's part of our family culture and due to the fact that we do enjoy our vegetables.  So you are fairly warned.  Should you hear a conductor calling for everyone to board the train, you should consider getting a move on yourself.

As Christopher would tell you, "My do it!"

Life On The Farm

Dave: "You know, we purposefully bought a house in the city."

Me:  "Yes."

Dave: "And then we turned it into a farm."

Me:  "Yes.  Yes, indeed."

Dave made this comment while he was working on our new chicken coop.  Yes, a chicken coop.  For these chicks that we got in the mail.

who have grown into these "teenaged" chicks.

We are pretty dadgummed excited about our chickens.  (When you live on a farm, you used words like "dadgummed;" it doesn't matter how many advanced degrees you have.)

And I find it very amusing that the same chick who is about to hop out of the box at two days old is the same the same one about to walk through the open door at 4 weeks of age.  I study individual behavior in  groups and influenced by the environment, but I have to admit that some traits are in-born, even in chickens.

So let me introduce our chickens:  the black one with the white spots on her head in both the box and the crate is Spike.  She is an Australorp.  The fluffy light one near her in the box is Buffy.  She is a Buff Orpington, and the inspiration for the the theme of most of their names.  Angel, who is a Rhode Island Red, is beside Buffy in the box and behind Spike in the crate.  Willow is not easily seen in either picture, but is a silver laced wyandotte.  Bunny is the light one beside Spike in the crate, and she is an Ameircauna and will lay blue and green eggs (deviating slightly from the Vampire Slayer theme, although wasn't Anya afraid of bunnies?).  Our final chicken is named Minky.  She is a  speckled Sussex (I think).  Her name comes from what Bridget calls her binky/pacifier. And although we cannot in any reasonable way make a Buffy connection to that, I'm just going to go ahead and say that Bridget is the next generation's slayer, so there.

I whole heartedly recommend that everyone gets chickens.  They eat nearly everything, thus making composting (for the urban farm!) a lot quicker.  The kids love them and they love the kids. Conor likes to put them in his cars and trucks and they apparently like it, too.  They (both Conor and the chickens) only get spooked when I walk in and "catch" them playing with each other.  So not only they have personalities, they have different norms of behavior for interacting with different people?  Really??

No, we are not going to eat them.  But we are going to eat their eggs, which they should start laying in August.

What a hoot.  What a crazy life to have this little piece of land in the city of Charl0tte and do so many crazy things on it.

How to Frost Cupcakes Like Someone Who Used A Pro's Advice

So, next in the series of DIY projects are some cupcakes I made for Dave's work.  Folks at Dave's job have been working their booties off for the last 6 months and he wanted to give them a little thanks.  (Like most organizations, an actual raise is out of the question)

So I followed this woman's recipes and advice for cupcakes, icing and how to ice them.

I often find that advice on the web for cooking (especially) is more assvice.  Nonetheless, I think this woman's site on cupcakes is fantastic.  The recipes are easy and delicious and there is even a video on icing the cupcakes!  Yes, you do need some special equipment (icing bags and frosting tips), but she even gives good hints on how to use them.

Here is my version.  Two things:  1) yes, there is room for improvement on my part, but considering this was the first time I've done it, they turned out great (some of mine do look like poop, and none of hers do).  2)  I need to figure out a better way to photograph my projects.   I could not get a good picture of these and they looked much better in real-life than this picture.  Suggestions welcome.

The First Garment I've Knit

It is "knitted" or just "knit?"  I don't know.  In any case, I made this!!

The pattern came from this one on Ravelry.

Mistakes were made (on my part) and I think that I knit too tightly.  Nonetheless, I think that this one came out well.  I'd say this DIY was a success.  It's one of those things where I say if *I* can do it, anyone can.

Fashion for The Rest of Us

I submitted this column to the Charlotte Observer for consideration for their Guest Fashion column.  It hasn't shown up, so I'm thinking it was rejected.  It's not a surprise for a variety of reasons, the main one being this is an anti-fashion column.

************************************************

I walked back to the front desk to tell my friends good-bye.  One said, “Your former student?  The one from 10 years ago?  She held up her pinky finger and said that you used to look like this!  And you were Ms. Corporate America that first year you were teaching at UNC Charlotte.”  We all laughed. But I let out an inward sigh.

When I moved here 10 years ago, I was very thin and in shape, running marathons and eating all I wanted because all I wanted was healthy food.  I was not yet married and not yet a mother.  I loved dressing in nice clothes because I had the money and the body to do so.

Then I became a mother and learned about sleep deprivation and crack-of-dawn nursing.  I apologized to all my working mother friends for wondering why they couldn’t find time for a 3-hour run at 5 am on Saturday. And then we had our twins.  And I wonder why we didn’t recognize all that time, money and sleep that we actually had with just one child.

So when my former student commented on my former body and former fashion style, it reminds me that it used to be a lot easier to look nice.  After the twins, my body took a completely unrecognizable shape.  Let’s just say that I am pretty sure my pre-twin pants fit better if I put them on backwards.  Yesterday, my new fancy scale, which provides information about muscle mass and bone density in addition to my weight, just called me fat. 

But it’s more than that.  My fashion choices have devolved into two: 1) Try To Be Fashionable or 2) Try Not To Be Naked.  Occasionally, the right clothes are clean at the same time in my closet and I have an opportunity to fiddle with the accessories. I can meet Fashion Choice 1. But most of the time, I just try to find some pants that that I haven’t worn twice already in the last week and a top that doesn’t have too many stains on it. My one accessory is my trusty athletic watch that serves as an alarm clock instead of a run chronometer. I have met my fashion goals for the day.  I just have to convince the rest of society that at some points in life, Fashion Choice 2 is also valid. 

Spring Cleaning

People have asked me how I can work full time, be a mother, garden, knit, geek, and whatever else it is I do with my days.

Do you know what my answer is?

It's easy.

Do you know why?

I don't clean my house.

And by that, I don't mean that I have a housekeeper come by every two weeks.  With no raises for Dave and me for the last 4 years and the addition of two children in daycare and a minivan payment to a budget that was barely making it before, we cut back on our housekeeper. (Not that I am complaining too much--there are folks who have it much worse than we do; we're just going to pay for 10 years for the daycare that kids 5 years of  daycare expenses)

Anyhoooooo, no housekeeper.  What I mean when I say I don't clean is that well, our house is usually very messy.  We clean for guests--one of the reasons we have parties!--but on a Saturday morning if I have a choice of scrubbing the toilet and tub or getting sweaty and dirty in the garden, I am going to opt for the garden.

That doesn't mean that a dirty house doesn't freak me out.  I have enough OCD in me to not like the clutter and mess and dirt and unfiled bills and toddler clothes to be sold and shoes on the floor and papers to recycle and magazines to read and blankets from a fort and the teepee from two Christmases ago and the toys scattered about and general crap that a family of 5 makes. But if I have to make a choice, I'd rather go outside and enjoy the natural untidy-ness of Mother Nature. (I never got the Mother Clean genes)

So last week, the Charlotte Observer had an article about Spring cleaning and dusting all the places at the top of the room you don't during the year and moving all the furniture around to sweep out from under it, etc, etc.  It inspired me.  We haven't deep cleaned the house since we moved in and although I don't have the time to do this sort of cleaning, I took it anyway.  Of course, they also suggested that the rooms you spring clean not have clutter.

HA!  I did it all at once.

And it's so nice.  I've re-organized poorly organized storage.  I've tossed old toys.  (WOOOOOHOOOOHOOOOHOOOHOO!)  I've made a huge pile for our garage sale.  I've moved nearly all the kid crap out to the office-now-playroom.  (They can keep a few toys inside.  A. Few.)  I've cleaned off crap, dusted high and low, and made executive decisions about what we need and what is just taking up space.  Don't tell Dave.

I realized that I like it.  I actually love a clean house.  It is comforting to me to walk in and see open spaces and neatly arranged counters and shelves without crap everywhere.  It feels like beauty.  I think it is beauty. And I think it helps clean and clear my mind.

We hope it lasts for a while.  Even Conor walked in after school one day and said "WOW!  This room looks BEAUTiful!  You tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it!"  Even Dave is picking up his shoes and putting them in their New Special Place.  (Everything has as Special Place.  That's the only way I can do it)

Maybe the house cleaning will only last a week in this tip top shape.  But I'm hoping my brain cleansing will last a little longer.

How do you do it?  How do you keep your house clean either as a SAHM or a working mom?  Am I just that lame?  Well, don't answer that third question.

Pinterest

OMG.  Are you on Pinterest?  Follow me and I'll follow you back.  I LOVE that site.  All these great ideas of crafts for me to do, activities for the kids to do, ideas for gardening and decorating the home, great recipes to cook.  I feel so creative and cool when I pinning links to my boards of activities I will do to make my life more beautiful and organized.

But I have to be honest with you.  It is a fundamental characteristic of mine that I HATE clutter anywhere.  And the idea of just collecting and collecting anything without using them drives me up the freakin' wall.  (T-shirts, Dave Dougherty.  I am looking at you)  I can't stand wasting anything.  And collecting without consuming makes me crazy.

So I only want to collect things on Pinterest that I really want to do. However, it is crazily easy to just collect and collect (recipes, crafts, gardening ideas) to a level that one cannot possibly do.

So my goal is to do the crafts and cook the recipes and use the ideas that I gather on Pinterest, and document it here.  The problem is that I am not nearly the "crafter" that I would like to be.  And my baking skills?  Well, let's just say that they always taste good.

For example:  here are some mini-cheesecakes that were quite popular on Pinterest.

Here is my version:

And that's the prettiest one!  Trust me, it's not just the original poster's skills at photographer at work here.

Today, I decided to organize our accessory cords.  I found this idea in Family Handyman:  You use ponytail holders to keep the cords together and then you put them in sandwich bags before putting them in a storage box.  They are all neatly stored and you can easily search for what you need without tangling everything up.

And here are a few bonus pictures of the kids, because, well they are so darn cute!

Off the approve the chicken coop placement.

Moving Forward

I realized that the last post left folks at the critical point without much resolution.  We were in the hospital and not getting out any time soon.

Well, we did get out.  The doctor ran into the room on Day 5 and told us to get out before Christopher took another nap.  Although he started sleeping through the night without oxygen support starting Friday, his oxygen saturation was dipping tremendously during his naps--like 84% and 82% Friday and Saturday respectively.  It took the nurses the maximum oxygen level to get him back to an adequate range---92% (not even normal which is 94% or over).

On Saturday night, he was flirting with needing support while he slept (hanging out around 90%) when the respiratory therapist came in, gave him is nebulizer treatment, listened to his chest, identified the last wheezy part and the commenced to bang the heck out of his chest.  While the morning respiratory therapy soothed Christopher, this one made him whimper a bit.  That said, I don't regret it because as soon as she was done, his oxygen rose to 94% and stayed there all night long.

So we got out of there as soon as we could.  Stopping only for a second to have the nurse take Bridget's temperature and verify that indeed, it was rising and that, why yes, that was a crap-ass junky cough she had developed.  The time, ironically, was 20 minutes after our pediatrician's weekend sick hours had stopped.

We took them both in on Monday and the verdict:  Christopher was doing great (although likely to have asthma issues for a while) and Bridget had RSV.

I write that and let out a tremendous sigh, remembering how desperate we felt at that point.  Fortunately, Bridget did not succumb to Wimpy White Boy syndrome with RSV and never really even got all that sick. Of course, we also didn't tempt fate and put her on steroids and albuterol immediately, so who knows.  But her experience is how MOST kids get RSV.  Christopher was the 2% exception.

That said, RSV has been going around Charlotte like the flu.  In fact, we are not having any real flu season this year, but RSV has been happening in record numbers.  On our Friday night at the hospital. we saw a PA do a happy dance because someone was admitted who didn't have RSV.  In our walks (and walks and walks) around the pediatric floor, most doors were covered in a yellow drapery containing masks and gowns because RSV is so contagious, no medical professional is supposed to enter in without wearing masks, gloves, and a disposable gown.  We were all (patients and professionals alike) worried about the newborn who had to come back to the hospital for jaundice.  What a shitty time for that infant to need a few hours or days of billirubin lights.

I AM SO GLAD THAT IS THROUGH.

Bridget just had a high fever from a random virus and I was pretty dang worried we were looking at a pneumonia from her lingering RSV cough.  Hallelujah, no.  Just a virus.  I'll take "Just A Virus" (JAV) any day of the week from now on out.

IN OTHER NEWS--and thank God(dess) there is some---we have seedlings all over the house for the garden (I botched the first round of eggplants and peppers and had to start again with a heating mat; I'm concerned about a late harvest) AND WE ARE GETTING READY FOR OUR CHICKENS!!!

I am so excited about our chickens!!  We just ordered our starter flock today--6 hens of different breeds.  They are all quite pretty and while 5 of them lay brown eggs, one lays blue and green ones! They will arrive in April, which will give us time to get the brooder box set up and Dave will have about 12 weeks to make our coop.  It's going to look an awful lot like our treehouse, just with a roosting bar and laying boxes for the hens.   Let me repeat:  I AM SO EXCITED!!!  It will take a while for us to recoop (HA!) the initial set up costs.  But Chickens! in our backyard!!  I cannot wait!!

The garden is even exciting me, too.  We added a new bed out in the Back Forty (I call it the East Garden; Dave calls it the Back 40). So we can have lots of options for planting.  Also, I keep forgetting to try our frozen veggies from last summer.  It was only this weekend that I tried our frozen eggplant sauteed with tomatoes and peppers, spiced by a basil/oil ice cube from our garden.  The eggplant was delish!  This means we might be able to grow and freeze enough to never spend outrageous amounts of money for great eggplant again!  It's worth the seedlings everywhere, I think.

I could blog forever right now.  The kids are asleep and it's the first kid free and work free moment I've had in recent memory.

Still Here for A While

So, why not a bar in a hospital?  Who needs it more than those of us spending the night with our sick loved ones and are too revved up to get to sleep.  And it's not like medical personnel are so stingy with the medications.  When I was in maternal care with the twins, they were passing out ambien like candy for me to go to sleep.  And after  the c-section, they were very open with the percocet.   They kept trying to push the extra strong stuff  and I kept telling them I needed one half pill of the weakest.

I think therein lies the issue.  So what I want is a glass of wine.  And a hospital bar would offer is a choice and between a double martini and a fifth of vodka, all the while watching until I drink the whole thing in one gulp.

(((sigh)))

Anywho, Christopher is doing fantastic during the day.  He is so active and engaging he doesn't look sick at all. I forgot to mention that our pediatrician told us that Christopher was the happiest child she had ever checked into the hospital.  So he's great during the day.

But when he sleeps, his oxygen plummets below 90% saturation and sometimes down to 85 or 86. I finally had some time to check Dr. Google.  86% does not indicate immediate danger at this age, but it can cause some long term damage? I don't understand that.  I just know it's not good.

But they put him on oxygen and he gets better. He just needs to sleep a night without oxygen to get home.  I thought we'd go home today based on his activity while awake yesterday.  Now I think the earliest is tomorrow if he doesn't have any oxygen tonight.  But I think we're looking at Sunday to come home.

So asthma.

One of the pediatricians stopped by yesterday.  I was apparently in a mood for chatting because I told her and the nurse in the room all about a new study I'm working on analyzing a medical virtual community, asking for their feedback and insights.  The doctor and I ended up chatting for quite a while about that until we started talking about the A word.

She says it's possible that Christopher is on the path for atopic asthma, because of his eczema which is related to his seasonal allergies and now this strong reaction to RSV.  I would like to take a minute and do the double bird flipping booty dance towards his first pediatrician who said there is NO WAY POSSIBLE THAT ECZEMA AND ALLERGIES ARE RELATED even when I said it seems to me and the RESEARCH I SAW that they were!!! Asshat.  Which is why we switched to our new pediatrician who LISTENS to us, especially when we talk as though we are typing in caps and italics.

We aren't going to be exploring any asthma diagnosis right now, though, until March.  Why, you ask as did I?  Because for the next 4 weeks and the every other day visit to the doctor to check Christopher out, we're going to be more concerned that he is still breathing right now and not any long term issues.  I really don't know what she said because my head exploded after the You Will Be Seeing Us WHOLE FREAKIN' LOT FOR THE NEXT FOUR WEEKS part.

So this morning's pediatrician stopped by. And um.  Good news.  He's going to be fine.  There's no bad news.  There's just a whole lot of waiting.  He has to be off oxygen.  And while I was excited that he is down to 1/2 liter while he's sleeping, that's not the best news we could have.  He still hasn't "turned the corner" yet.  We are still on the straight path and it's too foggy to identify the corner.  I thought we were well past the corner, but we're not.  So he gets out Saturday? Unlikely.  Sunday?  Maybe.  Sometime next week?  Probably.

 So join me on this adventure with the other bleary eyed, wild haired parents walking the halls of the children's hospital in our pajamas looking for coffee.   

I Honesty Didn't See That Coming

Greetings from the hospital.

Everything is going to be ok.  But Christopher doesn't have pneumonia; he has RSV.  I think it's good news that this is not pneumonia, because the course it is taking would be a Really Bad Path for pneumonia.  But the RSV is taking a real toll on him.

Generally, RSV is a concern for children under 1, especially preemies.  Christopher was a preemie, but is well over 1.  I do think, though, we are looking at some asthma issues developing and this is why his RSV hit him so hard, while when Bridget had it (we think), it was just a really, really bad cold.

In any case, Christopher is in here for a few days at least.  You can't treat RSV because it is a virus so you treat the symptoms.  His main pain problem is significant congestion making it hard for him to breathe.  The congestion is described as "coarse" by the respiratory therapists--worse than wheeze, but not as wet and dense as pneumonia.  RSV!  His oxygen saturation level gets too low (waaaay too low) while he sleeps so he is on oxygen.  He can't leave the hospital until he can sleep a good amount (usually 8 hours) without needing oxygen.

We hope to get out Saturday or Sunday.  I don't think there is any way in H-E-Double-Hockey sticks we will get out tomorrow.

I realize the benefits of blogging about important episodes later when you can get perspective and add insights and humor.  Bu sometimes you just need to get it out.

Things that are interesting, worth developing some perspective:

* this is a highly contagious illness, so the medical staff, if they are going to touch him, have on all sorts of masks and gloves and disposable robes.
* Even sick and even tiny, my son takes up a boatload of room.  I slept with him in his bed last night, fixing his oxygen when it fell off and the monitor beeped.  And thank god(dess) for the respiratory therapist who, at the 4 am treatment, finally slid him over in the bed so I could actually get my whole body on the bed. A twin bed can have an adult size and a child size portion as long as the child isn't doing this.  
*Presby Main still serves fried chicken on Weds.  Woohoo!!  It was the third thing both Dave and I thought after they told us to go to the hospital.  After: Oh and Shit. So yes, the thinking was. Oh. Shit! Fried Chicken on Wednesday.  Oh, maybe it was the 4th thing we thought. But it was up there.  Yes, we've spent a lot of time at this hospital.
*While Tuesday was my turn to freak the freak out over Christopher's health, Wednesday's was Dave's.  We share that way.

Goal today: to take a shower.  My first one since Sunday.  It's been a rough week.

I Am So Tired....

Sometimes, I have to blog to get some things out of my head so that I can move forward and do other things (e.g., work).

So Christopher has pneumonia.  This is our fourth pneumonia in the family. Conor had it once and Bridget had it twice.  He has had a cough since Christmas, but nothing too worrisome; we all have some sort of dust/pollen allergy over here.  Then Sunday night, his cough got a lot worse and he started running a fever.  In our house, viruses start with fever and turn into coughs.  Pneumonia (at least for Bridget) starts with a cough and then turns into a fever.

Conor and Bridget also had substantial lethargy with their pneumonia,which is why when I took Christopher in Monday morning to the doctor with a 99.5 fever and a engaging, funny, ACTIVE disposition, I felt like I was being an overanxious mother.

Nonetheless, the doctor heard the crackling and wheezing in his lungs immediately.  I congratulated Dave and me for being wonderful parents and developing our lay skills at identifying early signs of pneumonia in our children. Indeed, the doctor suggested we only needed to use albuterol on an as needed basis instead of a strict 4 to 6 hour schedule (like we did for Bridget).

I was even more proud of us when Christopher's fever spiked to 102 Monday afternoon.  We were ahead of the curve! He was going to have two good antibiotic treatments before the dreaded Nighttime Fever Spike.  I was expecting this to be an Easy Peasy pneumonia.

Ha.

We gave him  ibuprofen at 9:30 (easy peasy!) and another albuterol at 10:30 (coughing but under control after the meds) and settled in for sleep.  About 1:30, I woke up next to a burning, wheezing ember of a toddler.  The 103 temperature was especially bothersome because he should have been covered by the ibuprofen. (We are thinking this morning, it  would have been 105 if we hadn't treated earlier in the night).  I dosed him with Tylenol and debated giving him his next albuterol an hour early.  The wheezing, holding his breath at the top, and the coughing up of the lung made Dr. Mom decide to give him his albuterol early.

But then.  It didn't get better.  The fever stayed at 102.5 and the wheezing, struggling breath wasn't going away like it did earlier.  I would like to also point out that what is happening at this point is NOT AT ALL like we experienced with Conor's and Bridget's pneumonia.  Yes, we've had to alternate between tylenol and ibuprofen for high fever before, but the breathing has usually been taken care of by the albuterol.

I started to debate calling the triage nurse.  What could they do at the hospital that I wasn't doing already?  But could I give him more albuterol earlier to help him breathe and sleep.  So I called.  Dave told me this morning that he thought I wanted to take him to the ER. No, I wanted to give him more albuterol.  And, honestly, to make sure Christopher's path wasn't similar to a friend of ours who nearly died last Christmas.  (Yes, Anne, your illness and near death scared us then and scares us now. When a friend's Facebook posts go from "I've got the flu" to "Here is Anne's CaringBridge Page", I think that is the definition of having the bejeesus scared out of you. Pneumonia isn't something to trifle with)

So yes, after the triage nurse had me report what Christopher's ribs looked like as he breathed and to count the number of breaths he was taking per minute, he told  us to Go Directly To the ER.  Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200.  (Instead, start writing the $200 check)

There was no one in the Presbyterian Main Hembly Children's ER (Shout out for this pediatric ER! Go there!) and the triage nurse and receptionist tag teamed us into the system and to the doctor ASAP.  Christopher's oxygen saturation at this time was about 93%.  As the doctor told us later, 92% is when you start to worry.  Personally, I do not find 93% to be a "Yippee, Hooray" kind of number.

The doc came in poked, prodded, listened, and discussed with us what was going on.  There was some discussion about whether Christopher has asthma because he takes flovent and that we have albuterol hanging around the house.  It took a couple of tries to get him to understand that our (old) dr tested for asthma (no), allergies yes and that's why we use the flovent, The albuterol is leftover from Bridget's pneumonia, and honestly, I think the pediatricians like us having that around the house.

ER Doc prescribed two breathing treatments in the ER and steroids for home use.  The treatments got his oxygen saturation up to 95% (not yippee, but not on the border of freaking out, either).  And then we talked about the steroids.

The ER doc went back to Christopher's initial lung scan from NICU and said he saw a gray spot indicating Respiratory Distress Syndrome.  I pretty strongly said "THAT had never been brought up before" not mad at  him, but bugged that no one mentioned that earlier considering all the lung/respiratory issues both twins had have.  In any case, we got out of ER and arrived home about 5 and went back to bed.  Around 6:30, Bridget started pounding on my head to WAKE UP!!  TIME TO GET UP, MOMMY!

So it looks like Christopher is developing mild asthma, probably related to being a preemie.  We follow up with our doctor on Friday to get more information about this.

Dave is home today so I am supposed to be working on my research papers (one submission due today! another tomorrow!) and prepping my class on Thursday.    I am so emotional that when my co-author just emailed me that the one we're submitting today looks great, I started tearing up.  (I just did it again)  I'm very excited about these two papers; they are part of a new program of research I'm doing and I want them to be good.  But I'm also concerned about my son dying (he's not, but I wasn't convinced last night) and it's a lot to be processing all of this on an incredibly small amount of sleep.

I had to get this out so I could start focus on my other stuff.  It takes some time to write this, but it frees up my brain to focus on other things.

Toddler Talkings

The kids are saying some very cute things lately and I want to remember them before it's too late.  Despite our first blog's semi-disappearance (we all lost our blogs on Salon, including Julie Powell's blog--the one the book and movie Julie/Julia was based on), I frequently wrote about Conor's development.  The twins are getting short changed in this regard.  So, I may be writing some short entries over the next few decades (!) so I can say a bit more about what they are doing.

I'm just freakin' busy.  And although I have time to write a FB status update most days, I don't have enough time to do that with the blog.  (As my older son just CHING CHING CHING CHING ninja attacked me on the arm this very second, I don't always have the patience either)

So, here we go.

Bridget likes when I tickle her parmpits, but does not like it when she hurts her belbow. Truly, she loves to eat doodles with red sauce and a lot of parmesean cheese. When guests are over, and she, ahem, passes gas, they might expect her to excuse herself when they ask her "What do you say?"  Most people are surprised when she proudly shouts, "I TOOTED!"

We are pretty open with bodily functions around here.  Tonight, Dave said to Christopher as he changed him for bedtime, "Oh my goodness!  Where did all this pee pee come from in your diaper?!"

Christopher thought for only a moment before he stated the obvious, "From my penis."

If The Blog Doesn't Post, It's Me

Hmmm, wasn't there a Jimmy Buffet song that went something like "If the phone doesn't ring, it's me?"  I seem to recall an underground bar in Chapel Hill (Trolls?), cheap beer and singing that verse.  Or not.  There's a lot that's a bit foggy about nights in Chapel Hill, and that was, ahem, a few years ago.

In any case, even though I haven't been here in a few months, that doesn't mean I haven't thought about you daily or that I haven't written dozens of brilliant posts in my mind.  (Both meanings of that sentence--there were written in my head and they were brilliant and only in my head were they actually brilliant)

In any case, my sabbatical is coming to an end.  3 more weeks and the spring semester starts up.  It's been a great leave.  I worked and I fell in love with my life and my research again.  (I've been wondering which blog I should put this on--my personal or professional one)  But since there will be family updates, we are here instead of there.

I shall also continue on the theme of how much FREAKING easier our life is now that it was 2 years ago, 1 year ago or even 6 months ago (although 6 to 9 months ago are when things starting really easing up).  Friends even comment to us how obvious it is that things are easier. I think one telling factor is that when they something cheery like "Happy Easter" I don't respond with "Fudge you!", only I didn't say Fudge.  (True story from Spring of 2010).

Anyhoo, the twins have moved into big kid beds and they Want To Stay There All Night.  And when they don't, we have taught them to just Just Get Up and Walk Into Our Room (lesson learned from the firstborn).  So far, Christopher has taken us up on that offer and it is a joyous thing.

The twins have also become very verbal, telling us about their day and their friends and have quickly learned to tell Santa what they want for Christmas.  This includes Bridget shouting her requests to our new Elf on the Shelf (Elfie) and taking the Santa potholder off the cabinet and telling him, too.  It's obviously important to cover all your bases before Christmas.

Conor, either inspired by the twins or from other kids in our carpool, has become more verbal, too, and is actually revealing facts and stories from his day at school.  You cannot imagine my relief at this.  Forever, Conor has not told me anything about his day.  Bridget, at age 2, was more revealing about what happened during her day than Conor ever was.  But now, I am hearing stories!  With kids' names!

And who knew our introverted son was such a ham?  The life cycle of piano lessons has been:

• Love it
• Hate It
• RECITAL: Love, Love Love it!  

He was begging to stop lessons before the recital and now he's back to enjoying it and doing really well.  I'm really proud of him for that.

OK.  We are in the midst of Holiday Frenzy 2011.  We have had a 10 day stretch where only 2 nights have been free and some days we've had 2 and 3 events to attend.  Tonight, we're hosting a reception for our graduate program to honor our newest doctoral student and my first student to get her PhD.  There's a real sense of ownership over the grad students and I'm so excited for her.  It's also nice to see how our relationship is changing from mentor/mentee to more of colleagues.  Saturday is graduation and I get to help "hood her".  It's something like this and a pretty big deal.

So, yes.  Busy.  Fun.  Life. Work.  Better.  Much, much better.  That pretty much sums up my life right now.

She's Crafty

She's crafty - she's gets around
She's crafty - she's always down
She's crafty - she's got a gripe
She's crafty - and she's just my type
She's crafty.....

   --The Beastie Boys

I have become crafty, albeit not in the way the Beastie Boys describe and whose song haunts my brain.  

I have been knitting up a storm lately.  And then, in a fit of over-ambitiousness, I bought a sewing machine and made Gryffindor robes for the kids so that they could be Harry, Hermione and Ron.   

And I did it with a minimal amount of stress and anxiety!  Actually, sewing is a lot of fun and a lot quicker than knitting.  

I have also discovered that there are an enormous number of my over-educated women friends of a certain age are also quite crafty.  For me, I feel like knitting, sewing and gardening are incredibly similar to the work I do normally---conducting research projects and writing them up into papers.  No, seriously.

I have a great deal of ownership over my research and writing (like my crafts).  And I hope it doesn't surprise any of you out there in blogland, but just like my craft projects, my research and writing always have "areas for improvement" the next go round.  (And not to be too defensive, but THAT'S NOT JUST A PROBLEM OF MY RESEARCH; ALL RESEARCH AND WRITING HAS ROOM FOR GROWTH.  ahem, ahem, cough, cough).

In any case, these knitting, sewing and gardening (and soon chickens and a koi pond) help me in my research.  Research and writing projects can take YEARS from inception to completion.  I think I would become incredibly discouraged if I couldn't point to something that is easier and quicker to produce.  So I go out and weed a bed and it's done and then, I can go write three pages of a draft.  I can knit a cap and rerun for the zillionth time a confirmatory factor analysis and a structural equation model.  I can sew up some robes and then work on that theory paper.

I know not every faculty member feels this way, but I find it very engaging and interesting.  Plus, we get some clothing and food, eh?  Not such a bad thing.  

It's better than making myself all worked up over what is a normal part of my job.  

I LOVE that pumpkin.  

Sleep and Curly Hair

((Insert comments about how busy I've been here))

OK!  Now that we have my excuses over, I'm going to talk about something that I've wanted to talk about, but have been too intimidated to post here on the blog as it is "public".  SLEEP.  Or How We Are Still Co-Sleeping With (and bfing) The Twins.  You should leave now if this topic annoys you or it might bug you.  (For those of you who don't have children or are way past this stage, sleep and how one's family accomplishes it appears to a controversial subject for modern parents)

But for everyone else who wants to know what it's like for a working mother to AP-ish with twins, keep reading.

So, umm, yeah. We are still co-sleeping.  Generally, we are really just co-sleeping with Bridget, because Christopher, THANK OUR LUCKY STARS, sleeps all night long in his crib.  Indeed, he is the ONLY child who regularly sleeps through the night. Conor usually gets up around 1:30 and either climbs in bed with us and he and Dave go sleep in the guest room, should our bed be over-crowded.

Again, if this bothers or annoys you, stop reading now!  This is our family's choice!  Your mileage may vary!

Bridget usually starts off in our bed because it's rare that the twins actually go to sleep at the same time at night and one tends to be rocking and rolling while the other one is nodding off.  We've also found it's easier to land Bridget in our bed than in her crib.  We're lazy parents and we like to do things the easy way, what can I say.

Fortunately, Bridget is the least likely of our sleep bunnies to want to be the middle part of an "H" or an "N" while we sleep. If you co-sleep, you know that I mean they sleep directly across (H) or diagonally across (N) the bed.  Bridget is more of a || sleeper meaning she is right up against either Dave or me.

Really, it's not bad, mostly because she is such a cuddler and I am, too.  (Break in story:  Christopher actually kissed me in his sleep one night!  In the middle of the night, he sat up, grabbed my face, kissed it, and went right back to sleep.  Have to say that was pretty dang special!)  But back to Bridget.  The main problem is when she's not all the way asleep and she shouts out (literally!): I WANT BOOBY!  BOOBY!

This is 1) where we think we should have taught them a different word and 2) where you should leave if your face is turning red.  We've actually made great progress on her not needing so much booby in the middle of the night.  Unfortunately, part of that transition is that she likes to sleep with her hand down my shirt.  Given the choice. . .

Well, let's just say that I sometimes lie in bed with my arms crossed over my chest until she's in a deeper sleep and I can push her over to Dave.  (And Dave would tell you if he had his own blog that she will go fishing down his shirt, too, which is a fine Howdy Doo way to wake up!)

So there.  The story arc for this post is somewhat (completely!) lacking, but that's what you get for reading the blog of a working mother of three.

We plan on bfing and co-sleeping until we stop.  You should take bets on when that will be, because we have no idea.

As for the curly hair, there are two sub topics.  One, I've started following the advice in the Curly Girl Handbook and my hair looks gorgeous, if I do say so myself.  Second, Conor was bullied yesterday on the bus because of his curly hair.  Some older kid made fun of it and told him that he was going to pull it all out so that Conor couldn't have curly hair anymore.

In all of Conor's life, I have never seen him so genuinely upset.  He's sensitive and cries, but this was different. He had real, deep hurt and real, grieving tears.  I had honestly thought the south had gotten past its issues with curly hair and that we had inoculated Conor to curl problems by keeping it long and celebrating it  his whole life.

So he and I took a walk away from everyone else at the bus stop so we could talk about it.  And I told him what I think is true:  this kid is jealous of Conor's curly hair.  Conor first denied that but I don't think he knew what jealous meant.  So then I asked him, "Conor, how many people have told you how beautiful your hair is?"  Conor thought for a moment and realized that he ALWAYS gets compliments on his hair wherever we go.  Strangers stop and stare at his hair and say "Don't ever cut that; it's beautiful!"  Then I said, "How many times do you think anyone has ever stopped this boy and told him how beautiful his hair his?" "Never," Conor said with some confidence.  We talked a bit more and moved on.

Last night, when Dave spoke to Conor about the incident, Conor told him that Mommy told him the boy was just jealous of his hair and it was all ok.

I'm hoping that this all ends up with a pat on my back for handling this situation well and preparing us for bigger issues.  I did email the head of busing for his school, who said he will address the issue.  I actually just responded with a hopefully subtle suggestion to handle this sensitively so that the problem does not escalate.

The problems change when they get older and the problems get more serious.  I have had several mom mentors tell me this about parenting.  I believe it's true.  But it's also true that these parents and their children are sleeping through the night and they don't remember what it's like to be tired all the time, either.

HA!  I did make a link back in the curls story back to the sleep story!  And that's the best I can do in this overly long post.

((Imagine here:  promises about how it's not going to be so long before I post again))

French Class

Conor is starting first grade in two weeks. For some reason that seems so much older to me than kindergarten. It has a real number!

We are very happy with the French immersion program he is in. His receptive French is pretty good although he still is quite shy about speaking French.

Two things we still think about in our schooling decision.

1) Did we do the right thing by holding him back a year? He is bored at school. The most fun thing about school is riding the bus home. Scooby Doo is WAY more exciting than school has ever been. I don't know if this is a Conor thing (I loved school; I'm not sure he does), a boy thing (school is not as much fun for boys as girls in general), or an age thing (he needs to be in second grade now; certainly his math is way beyond what they are doing now). I don't know if it is the right decision for now, but it certainly was the right decision then. Can you imagine starting kindergarten, living in a new house, while we remodel the old house, while two small and needy twins move into the family? Conor was chewing his nails down to the nub at that point without starting kindergarten. I think it would have been beyond his capacity to cope had we started school.

2) Are we doing enough to help him read? It's the parents' responsibility to teach children English until they get into the third grade at an immersion program. We read a lot, but are we doing enough? Probably not, but Conor is actually reading pretty well. He just did an activity from our first grade activity book and could read nearly every word. He's not reading a lot on his own, but he is figuring out words by sounding them out.

So I'm not bragging on him, OK? We have neighborhood friends whose children were reading chapter books before kindergarten and Hippogriff's older son was doing 5th grade math at 5 years old. It's just that I don't want Conor to be so bored by school. I'd like the love of learning to not be extinguished by 2nd grade. We expect him to have quite a few more years of schooling after that.

Any advice you have on keeping boys interested in school would be vastly appreciated!

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.

It Gets Easier

I'm not sure it gets better (like in the campaign I like so much), but I want to tell mothers of twins (or MOMs) that it gets easier when the twins get older.

I honestly feel like we have some semblance of normalcy back, which makes me reflect back on the last two years and realize how incredibly tough those times were. The first summer right after they were born was hard because they were coming out of NICU and catching up on their development and we were completely overwhelmed with comforting, feeding and getting the twins to sleep while remodeling our house. We were insane.

Last summer, I had the twins home with Conor mostly by myself because we couldn't afford to keep the nanny and there wasn't a spot in daycare. Naps were HORRIBLE. Giant boy twin and tiny needy, girl twin have different comfort, sleeping and eating needs, in case you were wondering. And all the baby/toddler paraphernalia and still trying to get the remodeled house sorted out = H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks.

This summer, well, they are in daycare, which I do not know how working parents who sometimes work at home do it otherwise. I am not a very good SAHM. I've never been one, but if I was one, I think I would be fired. On the other hand, I'm a GREAT working mom.

But it's not just daycare---the house is done on the inside. We've spent the summer working on the back yard and there is real progress on making an outdoor living area. And the CRAP! The BABY CRAP--is going away! All the enormous toys! All the paraphernalia! Bye-bye, sippy cups! Thanks for playing and I hope I never see you again.

We're HAPPILY and WITH GREAT JOY putting it all in a box to sell. And the house, it is clean. O.M.G. Do you know how happy that makes me?? And the twins are eating well. And sleeping well! And we can comfort them so much more easily than before. They are talking more and playing independently. And my life! It's there! On the horizon!! I see it!! It's coming closer and closer!!

Of course, my old self is being blocked quite substantially by my giant gut. The twins stretched it out and I didn't help with all the ice cream and french fries I've eaten in the last year or so. That's the next plan of attack---reduction of the excess Mother Thing to get back to normal.

It just has gotten so much easier. And I am so glad we're done and forever past the first two years of childhood.