third and fourth

Before W was born, I was the perfect parent. He wasn't going to be allowed to watch TV or play video games, the computer was going to be off limits and we were going to only have educational toys. He was only going to eat organic and healthy... Fast forward 18 months and he's playing with my cell phone while eating marshmallows while watching Baby Einstein. So I wasn't mother of the year then, for sure. But I was pretty strict about only eating in the high chair and sitting properly on the furniture, no jumping on the bed and only going outside with shoes and shirts on.

Then CB came along and I got a little more lax. We didn't always eat at the table. You could often find her sitting on the back of the couch, eating her snacks. They didn't always wear shoes outside and when it was hot they were shirtless most of the time. They got away with making more of a mess than I would have like and things definitely weren't as controlled as I preferred, but oh well.

Then A and MJ came along. These girls, my third and fourth, get away with so much it isn't even funny. I kind of feel like as long as they aren't bleeding or their arm is bent the wrong way and they aren't in danger, it will be ok. There is so much that just doesn't matter to me anymore.

Sitting on the table? Fine, as long as they are quiet. Eating in the living room? Awesome, just put a blanket down and we will call it a picnic. Wearing 2 different shoes? Perfect, at least they have them on. Cereal for dinner? At least they are eating and I don't have to do dishes. Jumping on the bed? Exercise. It will wear them out before bed. Spill your plate? Fine, I'll clean it up later. No need to freak out or get upset. Things happen. A already knows how the Wii remote works, and mimics the motions as W plays Mario Kart. MJ and CB really enjoy playing Dora games on the computer. Hand eye coordination, right? (Justification is my favorite thing in the entire world)

Either I have become incredibly apathetic or I've relaxed a lot. I don't know. And all of the above really makes me sound like a horrible mother, but I don't think I am a horrible mother. They aren't out of control, they are just... curious... and there are 2 of them. And one of me. They are good kids. They listen, they play nice, the care for each other and their brother and sister, so I think we're doing ok... but my goodness they have changed me. And I am so glad they have.

minor mental meltdown

I've had the physical meltdown, now I'm fearing I'm experiencing the mental meltdown. I'm tired. And everything is just... jacked. My control freak self has had to give up control of almost everything and in the midst of the chaos, I couldn't, and wouldn't let it bother me. But now that I'm "supposed" to be feeling better it is all starting to drive me a bit batty.

My kids run at 689 MPH. All of them. They never stop and there is always something to be taken care of. And that is the kind of chaos I normally crave. But since I am moving at 3 MPH these days there is no possible way I can keep up. Vortex. Tornado. Whirlpool. Blender. Black hole... Magic Bullet (which by the way is one of the greatest kitchen gadgets ever invented...) That is what I feel like I'm in. Everything is just moving around me while I try to grasp at something, anything, to hold onto.

A few nights ago was a prime example. At approximately 4:37, when dinner should have been cooking and kids should have been playing quietly, hell broke loose. After getting my fourth email in 12 minutes that needed to be answered immediately and dealing with some stuff over the phone I went upstairs to see why A was screaming at MJ and MJ was screaming NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!, only to find that they were just screaming to scream and A had a massive rash all over her torso. And her diaper was a mess. And she was screaming inconsolably, again, as she had done for much of the day.

At the same time CB decided she was going to go ahead and clean herself after using the bathroom, only she did it so thoroughly that she used half a roll of toilet paper. Then W was throwing some kind of fit because I told him he could not do something he REALLY wanted to do and it WASN'T FAIR that I wouldn't let him do it because he WANTED TO and I was a REALLY MEAN MOM. And then little MJ decided she wanted a diaper change too, and to steal her sister's blanket and binkie... and they all wanted to eat RIGHT NOW...

So as I was putting on gloves and fishing wads of soaking wet toilet paper from the toilet I was on the phone with the doctor's office, asking what to do about A, while she wanted to be picked up and was screaming into the phone. And after removing enough toilet paper from the toilet so it would actually flush, I fixed dinner and then squashed an epic battle between brother and sister because sister didn't PRAY BEFORE SHE ATE AND THAT IS NOT OK. YOU ARE ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO PRAY BEFORE YOU EAT. And sister kept insisting she PRAYED IN HER HEAD AND SAID AMEN OUT LOUD but brother kept insisting that was NOT OK because you ONLY PRAY IN YOUR HEAD FOR BREAKFAST AND LUNCH AND YOU PRAY YOUR WHOLE PRAYER OUT LOUD BEFORE DINNER. And how DARE she even take a bite of her food before we all prayed... And between all of that I was trying to get dinner for the MJ Monster and A, who was still crying, while scolding W and asking if he really thought Jesus wanted him to be talking to his sister and mother that way and if he would prefer to have a time out, instead of dinner.

And that is normal life. Any other day it would hardly phase me because it really isn't that bad but I don't have the capacity to deal with it like I should. I don't have the energy or the stamina to be a good mom to 4 very active and inquisitive and adamant children. And I don't have the mental strength to thoughtfully deal with all of the stuff that has been thrown at me in the past month.

I'm so thankful for my health. I know this could be so much worse. I really, really do. And that is why I feel so stupid for feeling run down and sad. But I'm scared of what is to come. If I will ever fully recover. If my body will ever function the way it is supposed to again. If I'm going to have to make some drastic changes to my lifestyle... If I'm going to have to slow down.

I've already slowed down and I hate it. I feel disgusting both mentally and physically. I went from running 15 to 17 miles and strength training 4 to 5 hours a week, to nothing. To literally sitting on my butt for 23 hours a day. And now all I see are large curd cottage cheese thighs and flabby arms. I hate cottage cheese in any form but especially hate it on my thighs. All of my hard work has disappeared and I barely have enough energy to go to the store to pick up a few things. I don't feel strong anymore.

Instead of continuing to drown in an ocean of my tears, I'm going to try to do what those pesky optimists say to do and focus on the good. There is so much good in my life and I really am thankful. I have an amazing husband who has borne so much more of the brunt than he should have had to in the past month... Waking up in the middle of the night with screaming babies, making sure the older 2 were entertained and fed, even taking the babies to the doctor all by himself while still managing to go to work every day and continuing his studies.

I'm thankful for my mom and friend J who were willing to drop everything and come save me with three days notice. Having to learn the schedules and feeding habits of 4 kids who are all allergic to different things and eat at different times, in addition to their sleep schedules, cloth diapers and other daily rituals is hard, hard work. And I'm thankful for my kids who shockingly haven't turned into total buttheads through this whole mess and have coped surprisingly well with all of the changes.

I know it is going to get better. I just want it to be better now. I want to be me again and to have fun and live my life instead of just watching it go by. So I will now go put on my big girl panties, pull up my boot straps and figure out how to make all of this work. And you are totally allowed to tell me to suck it up and shut up because there are plenty of people who have it so much worse than I do... I probably need to hear it.

on becoming a morning person

I am far from being a morning person. My internal alarm clock doesn't start beeping until 7:30 am and that is only after I've had at least 2 cups of coffee in complete silence, after 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, and we all know how realistic that is. So when we moved to our new town, the first thing we made sure of was that we were central to W's school, so I wouldn't have to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to get all 4 kids out of the house and to the school by 8am.

Now really, whoever decided school should start at 8am needs to be smacked in the head. That is just cruel and nearly impossible to accomplish when you have 4 kids, 2 of whom are in diapers and 2 of whom can't tie they own shoes or button their own jeans. When we found a house that seemed perfect and was only 7.8 miles from the school, we took it. And then after we moved in we realized that there were 4 schools on the way to W's school, all starting before his school did, and that it could take 14 minutes to drive 3 blocks, and if you got stuck behind a bus, you were even more screwed. So it turned out we do, in fact, have to be up at the butt crack of dawn anyway.

The first few days of school went ok. I was full of optimism and drive and we were able to get out of the house, sit through traffic, a 6 minute long bus stop and then get to school on time. And then that momentum came to a screeching, crashing, slam into a tree halt and it was confirmed to me that being a morning person seriously sucked.

The main problem was that I was waking up when the kids were waking up and didn't have any time to actually wake up and get some nice serum in my veins to deal with the chaos of 4 kids in a calm and sane manner. And the other problem was that we were eating breakfast an hour before we left (if I even got breakfast at all), and then leaving an hour before school started, so by the time we got to school and myself to the gym, everyone was starving and cranky again. That had to change and the only solution was to wake up earlier, which seems counter productive, and stop eating cereal and yogurt for breakfast. We all need a high protein, hot breakfast to keep us full so we don't crash before our day even starts. So in essence, by trying to make my life easier, I've really made it a lot more difficult.

Now I get up at 5, get my coffee, and in a blurry eyed stupor check the email and try to catch up on what all of my West Coast Peeps did while I was asleep and by the time I'm finally waking up, it is 6:30 and the kids are up and asking for seventeen thousand things at once. They got their dad's annoying "morning person" gene so they don't need a 2 hour jumpstart on the day like I do. Once they are up I make breakfast, unload the dishwasher, clean up breakfast, get W's lunch ready, pull the snacks for the girls and get the diaper bag packed. Then I get W and CB dressed, hair and teeth brushed and throw them in the car with some books while I get the babies up, changed, dressed and put in their car seats. Then I get the babies bottles, put everything in the car, and start the stupid drive to school. Drop W off, go to the gym, work out for an hour and a half, shower, pick up the girls, get everyone in the car, and make the dumb drive home. And then I make a second pot of coffee, effectively negating all of the work I have just done at the gym and proceed to pass out on the floor while playing with the babies, only to be woken up by a dirty diaper to the face or a toy stethoscope to the head. It doesn't work.

I just can't get this "morning person" thing down! Even if I don't go to the gym after dropping W off I still find myself falling asleep at 10am while the babies pull all of the DVDs out of the cabinet and CB finds movies to watch on my phone (dang Netflix App). And I'm not talking about taking a little "cat nap", I'm talking full on mascara smeared across the face, ring indentation in the forehead, drool in the ear kind of passing out. If I sleep in later, the chaos abounds. And if I try to make everything a little simpler don't do all that I do in the morning, I end up really far behind during the day and nothing gets done. I already prep everything for breakfast, W's lunch and the girls' snacks at night. I have my gym bag ready to go by morning... but am I never going to be able to start the day with a good attitude and be like, "OH YAY!! I get to wake up and unload the dishwasher!! What a GREAT start to the day!! I am SO blessed." And before you say there aren't really people out there like that, so calm down, there really ARE people out there like that, I've met them. I'm related to them, believe me, they exist.

So tell me, please, what do you do to wake up in the morning? What is your "elixir" that gets you going? How do you manage not to be cranky and be productive before the sun comes up? What is your secret to a good start to the day? I need to know. I need to figure this out. My husband and children thank you in advance.

flying with infant twins... alone.

Ok, boring title, I know. Forgive me as my creative brain seems to be taking a summer ciesta. Jerk. The twins and I flew back from Alaska, reunited with the other hellions children, and are now making the looooooooong @$$ trip back to the East Coast. Awesome. I have officially scarred W for life. Every time he gets in the car he asks if it is going to be a 1 movie drive, or a 2 sleeps drive. Either way he hates it and demands compensation for me ruining his life. A trip into town makes him freak the freak out, espeically if I don't have an arsenol of snacks and things for him to do. Hunny Pie, it's only a 25 minute drive, pretty sure you can survive without a DVD. Now stop kicking your sister before I PULL THIS CAR OVER. I swear...

ANYWAY. Onto the point of this post, I promise. Flying with twins. Yes. Ok, so the key is to be uber organized. Like, more organized than you think you need to be, and over prepare. And then think about how you are going to do what you are going to do before you do it. And then take those scenarios, and blow them out of the water and then run your mind's eye through how you are going to handle your baby's diaper exploding while the other one projectile vomits onto the person next to you while you spill the bottle you prepared 4 seconds ago to calm the poopy butt baby down. What are you going to do when you are all covered in vomit and poop and formula that smells like rotten white cheddar cheese? What are you going to do...? Cry. Pretty much just cry.

Ok, I swear there is a point to this. So really, how do you do this? First, plan your flights for their nap times. If they are napping 2x a day, plan the first flight for their first nap time and then take a layover until their second nap time. Or take a red eye. Chances are good they will fall asleep during takeoff because of the white noise and g-forces and maybe, just MAYBE, you might be able to read a magazine for the first time since before they were born. Maybe.

Second, the diaper bag. Pack only the essentials. Everything else can be improvised. Daytime flights can be a bit more tricky because you have to pack more food, if they are eating solids, but if your kids don't have huge food issues like mine do, that won't be as hard as I make it out to be. So here's what I would pack for a 10 hour day of travel, if I were you:

• 8 diapers per baby
• 1 pack of wipes
• Changing pad
• 2 bottles (I like the Playtex Drop Ins for travel because you only need 2 bottles and then can pack the extra liners and extra nipples-- takes up a lot less room)
• Formula
• Change of clothes for each baby
• Bows to match those change of clothes so people don't ask if they are boys (optional)
• An extra shirt for you
• Baby crackers
• Baby food in squeeze containers or plastic containers (if applicable)
• Bibs
• Spoons (if needed)
• Gas drops (or gripe water-- you'll have to pour it into a 3oz container for the flight though)
• Infant Tylenol
• A magazine for you
• A cliff bar or 2 and some candy
• DumDum suckers for the babies (sometimes desperation beats out "good mommyhood")
• Your wallet
• Cell phone
• Disinfectant wipes
• A flask (kidding... kinda)
• Ziploc bags, of all sizes (more on that later)
• A sling

Yes, all of that fits in one bag, and fits nicely if you pack it right. Be sure to have all of your liquids put together and on top of all of your other crap so you can pull it out easily to go through security.

Getting ahead of myself. Ok, so you unload the car, and go to check in. Take someone with you for this. It is almost impossible to pull all of your luggage on one of those carts while pushing a double stroller. Don't ask me how I know. When you check in, suck it up and pay the oversize baggage fees, or have a REALLY good sob story that will cause the ticket agent to wave not only the oversize fees but also the fee for an entire bag... not that I've done that... ever...

Your bags are now checked in and it is time to go through security. You are SO going to rock this and look good doing it. You're wearing slip on shoes, don't have anything in your pockets and you have the pacifier clipped to the baby's shirt because once that binkie is in that bin, you can't get it back until they "clear" you. So here's how you do security:

1. Put the car seats upsidedown on the x-ray belt
2. Take off your shoes and put them in a bin
3. Take the liquids out of your bag and put them in a bin
4. Put all of the blankets and "loose" items in another bin
5. Put your bag in a bin
6. Send it aaaaaaaall down the roller things into the x-ray machine.  
7. Push the stroller near the x-ray so the TSA agent can come and get it
8. Pick up your babies, one in each arm, and walk through the metal detector

Here's where you can get creative. You can either wait for the stroller to be done getting swabbed by the TSA agent while holding the babies or you can ask (very nicely) if they will put the carseats on the ground for you so you can put the babies in them and you can collect your things.

Now keep in mind that I don't have a stroller that holds our infant seats, so you will have to modify what you do to accommodate for your travel system. I pushed the stroller with both babies in it and carried the car seats and diaper bag. If you can, take the infant seats on your trip, if your babies still fit in them. They are so much lighter and easier to carry than a convertible car seat. If they don't fit into the infant seats and you need to take convertible seats, consider buying a PacBack to help you get through the airport.

Anyway, after you gather all of your crap and get the babies situated back in the stroller, go to your gate and get a gate check ticket for your stroller (and extra car seat if you don't have 2 seats for the babies-- try not to ever check a car seat as luggage. Chances are it will be damaged by the time you get to your destination and/ or it may be lost. If you gate check it it is less likely to be damaged or lost and if there's an extra seat on the plane, they will sometimes let you have it for the baby, so you'd be able to use the car seat). Then let the babies out to stretch and move around. Yes, on the floor of the airport. I know, disgusting, but believe me, they will touch dirtier things by the time they are 2. Yes, they will. Make sure you are by the jetway so you can preboard first and be sure to do a round of diaper changes before you get on the plane.

When they call for preboarding, either have 1 baby in a sling and 1 still in the stroller or put both babies in the stroller. After you field all of the, "OH MY GAH! Are you flying ALONE with them?!" questions, make your way down the jetway with confidence and class. You've got this! Once at the bottom, if only one baby has a seat put that baby in the car seat, the other in the sling, if not already in there, and then collapse the stroller. Typically at this point the flight attendants will either be standing at the entrance of the plane, taking bets on how long you are going to last or they will be jumping at the chance to help you because they KNOW there is no way you are going to be able to do all of this by yourself. And they are right. It simply isn't possible to get both babies plus a car seat or 2 plus a diaper bag on the plane and to your seats by yourself. You're good, but you aren't that good.

Now, when you booked your flight you had a few decisions to make besides when you were going to leave and come back. Do you bite the bullet and get a seat for each baby or do you go the cheaper route and only buy 1 ticket for 1 baby and have the other baby be a lap baby. My recommendation is to buy 2 tickets. Not only is it safer for both babies to be in car seats, but if both of them are in seats they are more likely to fall asleep and it will make it so you have an extra place to put the "extra" baby if needed. It just makes life easier, really. It is possible to do just 1 purchased seat for a baby but it will be a challenge and not the best flight you are ever going to take.

Then you have to make the "where do I sit" decision. Now, there are really 3 options: the front of the plane, no, not first class, you aren't THAT classy! I mean after row 6, the middle of the plane and the back of the plane.

Pros for the front of the plane:

• you don't have to walk as far when you are boarding and exiting. It is hard to get those infant seats down the aisle! 
• the bulkhead will provide extra room

Cons for the front of the plane:

• you are really far away from the bathroom because you aren't cool enough to use the first class bathroom
• people will gawk and make a lot of comments while you are sitting there waiting for the rest of the flight to board and get off the plane
• if you are in the bulkhead you can't put your bag under the seat so you have to put it in the overhead bin which can really suck when you need something out of it but can't get out of your seat

Pros for the middle of the plane:

• ?????
• uuuuuuuuuuummmm
• you don't have to wait as long for drinks as you would if you were in the back of the plane?

Cons for the middle of the plane:

• you are still pretty far from the bathroom
• still have gawkers
• you get stuck when you get up while the flight attendants are doing the drink service and you have to get back to your seat

Pros for the back of the plane:

• the bathroom is RIGHT THERE
• the flight attendants are RIGHT THERE and almost always willing to hold a baby while you change the other baby's diaper
• the galley is RIGHT THERE if you need water for a bottle
• there aren't many people to judge you if you have to change a diaper in your seat, with the baby on your lap. Not that I've ever done that either... ever... 

Cons for the back of the plane:

• the bathroom is RIGHT THERE and people LOOOOOOOVE to talk to you while they are waiting to pee. 
• it takes forever to walk to your seat and chances are good your baby might have whiplash from being banged against every other seat on your way there. 
• you will finally get your complimentary beverage approximately 2.5 minutes before the Captain asks the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for landing. 

Once you get to your seat, you are going to buckle the car seats in, get the crying baby out to appease her, ask the flight attendants for water for the bottles, prepare their bottles for take off and pull out your magazine and a snack so you don't have to rummage around your bag later if a baby is asleep in your arms. And then you are going to promise all of the people who are glaring at you and your crying baby that they will not in fact cry for the entire flight. And then you'll wonder why you are trying to satisfy all of these people and realize they can just bite you. Who cares if your baby is crying? BABIES CRY. Oh wait, getting off topic again...

So it is time for take off now and you're getting nervous. Once that door shuts, you're committed. Put the babies back in their seats, give them their bottles, some tylenol if needed, gas meds if necessary, give them their soothie (blanket, binkie, whatever) and then PRAY HARD that your evil plan works and they do fall asleep. If they fall asleep, you're golden for at least an hour. Pat yourself on the back! But then prepare for when they wake up. Have their snacks ready if they are eating solid foods, pull a diaper or 2, the wipes and changing pad out so they are ready to go when needed, and get their toys ready to be played with.

But wait... you didn't pack any toys for them! Why did that stupid girl on that stupid blog not put any toys on that stupid diaper bag packing list?? Oh young Jedi, because you don't need them. Everything you need to entertain your babies is already on the plane. Cups, stir sticks, packets of sugar,  plastic spoons, barf bags, those really annoying papers that say "SUBSCRIBE FOR ONLY $.75 AN ISSUE" that fall out of your magazine, your cell phone, club card for Safeway, your bracelet, a baby wipe, the wrapper from your Cliff Bar, a bottle nipple... the possibilities are endless.

And then there are the ziploc bags. Why did you bring those? Not only do those provide a nice, smell proof place to put nasty clothes but they provide for entertainment too. Ask the flight attendant for some ice and a tiny bit of water and put them in one, zip it up and give it to a baby. They will have fun squishing it around. Throw some cherrios in there and let them go nuts, just make sure they don't bite through the plastic. And if that ziploc magic doesn't work, pull out the dumdums and let them lick away. No, I'm not kidding, it really works. Mother of the Year here, people. Mother of the Year.


So the flight is going relatively well but now it's time for a diaper change. Crap. Literally. You pretty much have three options: Change the baby in your lap, which I would not do if it were a poopy diaper, ask a flight attendant to come and sit with the other baby while you go to the bathroom and change the dirty one or put the clean baby in the sling and carry the dirty one to the bathroom. I typically go with option number 3, unless the clean baby is sleeping. Then I go with option number 2 (no pun intended).

After diaper changes, it's time for feeding. Again, no problem, you've prepared well. Bibs are on to minimize the mess and you feed them in their car seats... which, sorry to say, will make a mess no matter how hard you try to prevent it. Just remember, car seat covers are washable. Be sure to follow the manufacturers instructions for care and use. And be sure to make the feeding time fun. If you have ferocious eaters like I do you will have to act fast which can be tricky but smiles and songs seem to help take the edge off of the wait while the other baby gets her bite.

Once the babies are dry and fed they will either fall back asleep or want to play and by then, it's pretty much time to land. If possible, keep them both in their car seats during landing as this is prime time for injury for a lap baby. Because you are smart, you've built in a lot of extra time into your itenerary so there is no need to rush off the plane. You will always get off last. Always. Not only is it the polite thing to do, but it is the practical thing to do because a) the flight attendants will help you off the plane and b) you won't have a big ol line of angry people up your butt while you try to get the stroller set up and the babies put in it.

Now make your way to the poor soul who is going to pick you up and give yourself a HUGE pat on the back because you just rocked the whole flying with twins thing. Congrats!

Ok, I know it doesn't always happen that easily but it really doesn't have to be a huge event. Just remember to be flexible, have a good attitude and don't get upset over stupid stuff and you'll be fine. The nicer and more sane you seem, the more people will be willing to accomodate you and help you out. And if anything, you'll be making memories and that always makes it worth it, right?

this is how we do it (insert tune to the awesome 90's song here)

Besides the "are they twins" question, (no, they are half sisters), the two things I hear the most are, "I don't know how you do it" (my pills are better than yours) and "How do you do it?" The truth is, I'm not sure I have a really good answer for that because, well, I don't really know. It has taken 9 long months to get to where we are today and I'm still trying to figure everything out.

The first 4 months after the twins were born were literally the most challenging and stressful of my entire life. Even though I had a lot of help from our families there was so much going on and too much to adjust to for even the strongest person to be able to cope well.

Being the sole physical parent to 2 preschoolers and newborn twins was brutal. Between the night feedings and wakings and having to pump in the middle of the night, I was getting about 3 hours of sleep a night. Add to that the normal everyday stressors and responsibilities and you pretty much have a recipe for disaster. There's a reason they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture. It messes with your mind and can make you think you are losing it. You see things that aren't there, you hear things that aren't being said and you just plain can't cope.

In addition to the sleep deprivation, I was also dealing with postpartum depression. It was no surprise to me, as I had been through it twice before, but this time I swore it was going to be different. Even before the girls were born I made a promise to myself that I was going to get help. And when I finally worked up the courage to get help at about 12 weeks postpartum, my doctor told me he really didn't think it was "that bad" because I was "functioning" and that I should wait it out a couple more weeks. I told him that was fine, but in the meantime if I happened to drive my car into a phone pole, he would know why. Of course I was "functioning". I didn't have a choice. If I didn't function, no one else would. The babies weren't going to feed themselves, the kids weren't going to take themselves to school... It was then that he took me seriously and helped me get help.

About a week later I ended up having to go on a total elimination diet (again) because both babies stomach issues had gotten so bad and all of the proteins that were passing through my breastmilk were causing them to have severe pain and lots of spitup. That meant I got to cut out dairy, soy, wheat, eggs, corn, beef, caffeine, citrus, nuts and chocolate. I remember pleading with the babies to at least let me have caffeine, if they were going to insist on being up all night. Fair is fair, right? They didn't agree. I had done the elimination diet, for 10 months, with CB, so it was nothing new for me. I was just praying so hard that it would be different this time so it was a big letdown, and a major change, when the last resort became the only option.

It was very hard living in that dark place. I remember laying in bed crying, wanting so desperately to love my babies the way I thought I should. Of course I loved them, but I wanted to really feel it. I wanted to see their beauty, instead of just seeing them as a responsibility. When they were about 13 weeks old I called a photographer and begged her to take the twins' pictures. I just kept thinking about all I was missing out on, how hard it was for me to see who they really were and how guilty I would feel if I couldn't remember their newness and sweet babyhood because I was so wrapped up in my own head. I needed someone to capture those days before they were gone. The day of their photo shoot was literally transforming. I got to spend 4 straight hours with just them, finally getting to see them for who they were, both as a unit and as 2 completely different personalities. I got to focus on their little toes and noses and the fine baby hair on the sides of their heads and really look at their sweet baby lips. I just got to be with them.

And for the first time I started believing it was going to get better, that I could really do this. I could be a mom to 4 kids and love and nurture them and teach them and grow with them, without completely screwing them up. While life was far from being in control and "normal" in any way, shape or form, I started striving for some kind of normalcy. I started getting dressed everyday and going out more, started cooking again and finding things that made me happy. We took some day trips and shopping trips and for the first time, I started to feel in control.

Over the next couple of months my confidence grew, my patience expanded and my sleep hours increased, all leading to a much happier person. I actually decided to make a quick trip with W and A to where we were going to be moving to find a place to rent and see my husband for the first time since he had left to go back to Germany 4 months earlier. Everyone asked me why A and W got to go while MJ and CB stayed back with the grandparents and the answer was simple: A couldn't live without me, MJ couldn't care less if I exsisted. W is a great traveler, CB would much rather stay back and hang out. After we found a place to live the the 4 of us flew back to California and spent 2 weeks getting adjusted to life as a family of 6 and preparing for the next big move.

We moved cross country the day after Christmas. Probably not the best decision but it worked out ok. Taking a 4 day road trip with 4 kids ages 4 and under isn't exactly on the top 10 list of things I want to do again in my lifetime, for sure. When we finally got to our house we realized it wasn't the "great place" we thought it was when we chose it, and over the past few months I have spent well over 55 hours cleaning up the messes and nastiness the previous occupants left behind while fighting the management company to make simple repairs. I don't even want to talk about it, I'll start dry heaving.

Sometime in February I got a headache. Normal pain meds didn't stop it and after about a week I went and saw a doctor. She gave me something stronger and after 2 weeks of that not working I saw another doctor. They did some labs and after 2 more weeks of pain meds not helping and having a constant, raging headache, I finally called the doctor in tears, begging her to fix me. She pulled my labs and asked me why I hadn't come in earlier as my test results, from 2 weeks prior, showed I was extremely dehydrated and severely anemic and was very deficient of a few essential vitamins. The next morning I ended up getting 2 liters of IV fluids, some vitamin shots and a shot of pain meds, and it still didn't help.

About a week later, after much discussion and some tears, it was decided that I needed to stop pumping for the babies because the elimination diet was literally going to kill me if I didn't. I was burning at about 1000 calories a day making milk for the babies and was probably only taking in about 1000 calories a day from the food I was eating. My BMI was officially considered "underweight" and my body fat percentage was off the charts low. Making that decision was so hard. I wanted to give my babies the best I could offer them, but in the end, if I'm not healthy, I'm not going to be any kind of good to them.

By stopping pumping I did gain 3 hours a day to do other things, like clean the house and actually play with the kids. We were finally able to unpack all of the boxes and settle in. I had more freedom to go places and do things and joined the gym, making my gym time part of our daily routine. Pretty stupid on the gym's part, including child care for ALL of my kids for up to 2 hours a day in my monthly fee... they are really losing money on me!

Yeah, sometimes life can be a challenge, like when all 4 kids start screaming at once or when they all decide that they want something from me THAT MOMENT when I've just sat down for the first time all day or when the older 2 decide to jump on the couch that has all of the nice, neat little piles of clothes from the 3 loads of laundry I just folded and sends them all FLYING into the air... deep breaths, mama. Deep breaths. Or when they all take turns waking up all night long... ever had 2 babies teethe at the same time? Or be sick at the same time? Or have 4 kids be sick at the same time? Not so fun. Sometimes even just getting 4 other people dressed and out the door in the morning can be a huge challenge.

But if having 4 kids and dealing with food intolerances and sleepless nights and sensory issues are the worst things that I have to deal with, then rock on! If having a husband who is gone a lot is the hardest part of my life, then boo hoo, cry me a river. At least he's coming home. The truth is, and this might come as a shock to some people, I'm really not anything special. There are millions of other women out there facing challenges that I can't even imagine.

So how do I do this? I guess I just do it. I take it one day at a time and try really hard not to sweat the small stuff. I try to focus on the things that are really important and enjoy the baby laughs and preschooler squabbles. And I don't take myself too seriously. I don't expect perfection and allow myself to mess up. When I mess up, I learn from that experience and move on. We do what makes us happy and keeps us healthy.

We have a system down and it is far from being perfect, but it works. I'm still not "supermom", heck, I'm sitting here typing this instead of doing the dishes and putting away the morning's mess. I make to do lists and try to check things off but my to do list from last Monday still doesn't have any check marks on it. But I'm in a good place. We are in a good place. My kids are happy and for the most part healthy, we have fun and we have dance parities and snack picnics and lots of cuddle time. And at the end of the day, that is really all that matters.

back to the land of the living?

Maybe? Could there be a light at the end of this newborn twins tunnel? The past 15 weeks have been, well, excruciating, but I feel like we are figuring everything out and that some kind of normalcy may be in our future. Maybe.

I am not good with newborns at all. I crave routine and structure and newborns don't really provide for that, especially 2 of them. I also need sleep, lots of it, and newborn twins certainly do not allow for that to happen. Through the past 15 weeks I've gotten, on average, about 3 hours of sleep a night. I have done every single night feeding alone since M left when the girls were 2 weeks old and yes, I would like a trophy. I used to be really good at sleep deprivation but now, not so much. When I was in college I was so good at sleep deprivation that nearly every paper I wrote in my sleep deprived state would get an A.

Now, instead of spitting out great analysis of political theory, I'm just plain stupid. Like the time I made W a sunbutter and peach salsa sandwich, instead of a sunbutter and apricot jelly sandwich. Or the time I somehow managed to pick up a baby in the middle of the night, changed her diaper (while using their pjs as a wipe, instead of using one of the 40 thousand cloth wipes I have), prepared a bottle and then proceeded to feed it to her, before I woke up and realized that 1) there wass a baby in my arms and 2) that baby was naked and then had to try to figure out how said baby got into my arms and why on earth she was naked. Or then there was the time I looked outside and the concrete duck yard ornament thing was walking around the yard. Yo. Time for a nap! If only that were an option...

The girls are slowly starting to sleep better and become more predictable. They only wake up once around 3am for a feeding and life is so much nicer now that I don't have to pump in the middle of the night. It is my goal to be in bed before midnight every night but there is always so much to do. 4 kids can make a huge mess and even more laundry. I feel as though my entire life revolves around laundry, and food. Food food food. Someone always wants food, or I have pump so the babies can have their food, or I have to think about what kind of food I'm going to eat. It's not as simple as it sounds considering that out of the 5 of us, only W can pretty much eat whatever he wants as I'm back on the wonderful elimination diet for the twins' extremely sensitive stomachs.

So yes, things are looking up for the most part. I am still so far behind that I often wonder if it's even worth trying to catch up. One day I will have it all together again, I hope (and pray) but in the mean time I am just trying to maintain the basics and keep everyone fed and clean. Perhaps one day I will be back to my fun, creative self, instead of being the tired old witch that I have become. Maybe.

long story, part 2

The second I found out I was having twins, I began mourning the loss of my birth experience. Dramatic? Probably. But would you expect anything less from me? I am a natural birth girl. Medication, needles, scalpels and augmentation are not for me and quite frankly freak me out. I don’t care if you want drugs during birth or would prefer to have a c-section but all of those things are not my cup of tea. I gave birth to W and CB without so much as a Tylenol because I’d rather have the pain of labor than deal with all of the interventions and their side effects.

When you give birth to twins, the chance of you having intervention is extremely high and the chance of you having a c-section is over 50%. Plus, most hospitals require you to deliver in the operating room, on the operating table. Whoever came up with that idea was clearly a man, because they have obviously never had to think about what it would feel like to go through the hardest part of labor flat on their back on a “bed” that feels more like a slab of concrete.

Coming to terms with the possibility that my birth was most likely going to be filled with things I didn’t want was very difficult. I agonized, cried and had panic attacks over it for weeks. After seeking the advice of other (amazing) doulas and doing some serious soul searching, I finally started to feel peace about the possible ways I would birth these babies. That being said, I was very prepared to fight for what I wanted and needed during the birth and I was not planning on being a complacent patient.

I knew that in order to have a birth that somewhat resembled the ideal I had in my head, I would need to have a doctor who was ok and on board with at least some of my desires. Out of the 4 doctors in the practice, 2 were ok with the fact that I didn’t want an epidural or even want the catheter placed but only 1 of those 2 was ok with delivering a breech baby, should baby B turn breech after baby A was born. 1 of the doctors in the practice told me that he required all of his “twin mommies” to have an epidural and if I didn’t get an epidural, he would just go straight to a c-section and wouldn’t even let me labor. Um, WHAT?! First of all, did you just say “mommies”? And second, how the HECK does that make any sense?? Freaking control freak. Then he went on to tell me that there weren’t any risks to having an epidural… Really? Homeboy had no idea who he was talking to. Don’t even try to pull that crap on me. And the other doctor was the doctor that I talked about in my previous post.

I firmly believe that labor is a mind over matter thing. If you are not 100% mentally ready to labor, you will not go into labor and if you do go into labor, it will not be an effective or efficient labor. Every time my contractions would pick up, I would call the office to see who was on call at the hospital that day and if it was one of the 2 who scared the crud out of me, my contractions would stop.

The night before I went into labor started out like any other night. But then M made us dinner, and decided to add some extra red pepper flakes to it. After dinner my stomach started to get upset and I silently started cursing at him for giving me food poisoning. Then it hit me that this could be my body getting ready for labor so I decided to take a walk around the field across the street. We had barely made it down the driveway before I had a contraction. By the time M and I were halfway around the field, I was getting uncomfortable. I made it home as the contractions picked up, as did my upset stomach. A couple of hours later I was feeling better, but the contractions were still happening every 7-10 minutes. I knew that night the “no epidural = straight to c-section” doc was on call, so I decided to go to sleep and prayed hard the contractions would slow down or stop until at least 7 the next morning.

Through the night I was woken up a few times from contractions, but they weren't horrible. Around 7 I got up and got the kids ready for school, got myself dressed and then we left the house. I told M to grab the bags, just in case. I wasn’t feeling too bad, but I felt a lot of cramping. After we dropped the kids off at school we went to get the oil in the van changed. As we were waiting in line I started feeling more cramping. When we finally got to the counter to check the car in, I told the guy we had to have the car done by 10:45 because I had a doctor’s appointment across town at 11:20. I jokingly added that I didn’t think he wanted me to give birth on the shop’s floor. He said no! and promised to have the car done by 10:30.

As we walked (well, I waddled) into the waiting area, this woman turned to me and said the dreaded, “Oh my! You look like you are going to POP!” Without thinking, I bitterly responded, “I do NOT pop.” That should have been my first clue that something was up. The van was done, as promised, at 10:30 so we had some time to kill before my appointment. We went to a bookstore and looked around, got the kids some books and M got some crossword puzzle books because he's a big fat dork. I was feeling more and more tired and crampy and anxious to get to my appointment. I was hungry so I went to Starbucks to get a snack, but took one bite of it and decided that I really didn’t want to eat anything. Obvious clue I was in labor #2.

When we got to the appointment, all of the girls at the front desk exclaimed that I needed to have those babies that day—I guess I had “the look”. I told them that I would give them 20 bucks to go back and convince the doctors that today was the day. I told them they could say I went all “crazy pregnant lady” on them and jumped over the counter and held them at knife point, I didn’t care, I just needed these babies out. The doctor I was seeing that day was the doctor that I had seen in L&D 2 days earlier. When he walked in the room he said he was completely surprised that I was still pregnant and that after we had left the hospital 2 days earlier, he regretted not augmenting my labor because he was sure we were going to show up at L&D that night and he really didn’t want to deliver the twins at 2:30 in the morning. Yeah, you wish dude.

When he finally checked me, I was 5cm and 100% effaced and at a 0 station. For those of you who don’t speak birth, that means I was pretty much halfway to the point at which the babies would be born. It was go time, for real this time. Even though I wasn't feeling like I was in active labor, or even labor for that matter, I had a sneaking suspicion that if we went home instead of going to the hospital, the babies would probably be born in the car on the way to the hospital later that day.