Anniversaries Come and Go

My first anniversary was yesterday. I’d been worrying over it for weeks and so was secretly glad when neither of us mentioned it. It was a tough day with the twins, and OW was working on our taxes. It was cold as hell (if hell were as cold as North Carolina in the Winter) and windy, so we didn’t even discuss having a Sunday outing.

When it was time for bed, I had a pit in my stomach as I crawled in. I was anxious and couldn’t sleep. As midnight neared, I felt like I ought to at least wish him a happy anniversary but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Then both of the boys started screaming, so that put an end to that.

This morning, just as OW was walking out the door I said, “Happy belated anniversary.” He looked stunned. “No! What are you talking about? It’s tomorrow!”  He’d gotten it into his head that we’d gotten married on Valentine’s Day. I don’t know why, because one of our big discussions when deciding on the date was that it was too close to Valentine’s Day.

He told me he had a present and a card and everything and just felt stupid about mixing up the date. The pit in my stomach came back and I felt the blood drain from my face.

I . have . nothing .

I don’t even have a card. I blurted out that I hadn’t gotten him anything and he told me he doesn’t want anything. “Besides,” he said, “I bought the gift for you last year, so I’ve had it for a long time.”

This was supposed to make me feel better but it made me feel even worse. He’d been thinking about our first anniversary since last year.

He is so thoughtful.

I am so… not.

Do I pack up the twins and wander around town today, desperately trying to come up with a gift? Honestly, it’s been such a hard week-and-a-half with Peanut Butter and Jelly that all I really want to do is run away and curl up in a cave somewhere.

UPDATE: I did pack up the twins, but didn’t roam all over town. I remembered him mentioning something he really wanted but didn’t feel he could justify the cost of. It’s the entire series of Star Wars movies on Blu-Ray. I know he’ll love it and I know he’ll force me to watch all six of them. It’s wrapped and ready to give and I feel much less stressed out.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

First Anniversary

My husband and I’s first anniversary is exactly 2 weeks away and I am starting to panic. Before I got pregnant, we hadn’t exactly discussed getting married. I mean, both of us sort of assumed that was coming I think, but he hadn’t formally proposed and I was careful never to have that “when are you going to marry me?” conversation with him. I knew it would come when it came.

Once I discovered I was pregnant, that discussion happened, and it was awkward. He insisted that we get married and that we do it before the boys were born. I told him I was very uncomfortable with the idea that he was marrying me because I was pregnant. He said he wasn’t. It was awkward. Did I say that already?

He assured me that he’d been working towards asking me. He is the sort of person who needed to have the honeymoon planned before he could even pop the question and he had actually been working on that! So we agreed that we would get married. Still, he proposed in a wonderful way, and tried to make it as romantic and spontaneous as possible. He went to my mother (who didn’t know I was pregnant) and asked for her blessing. He picked out a ring he thought I would love. He arranged for us and his mother, my mother, and my mom’s partner to go to dinner together, during which he pulled out the box, made a speech, and formally asked me to marry him. It was all supposed to be a surprise, but it’s hard to surprise me. I acted very surprised. Our mothers literally wept with joy.

We put off setting a date and planning the wedding because my pregnancy was going so badly and we were just consumed by that. In January, however, we knew we’d better get moving. I was willing to go to the courthouse, but he wanted a real wedding, in the church, with his family and friends there. We planned a lovely wedding in only 6 weeks and truly I don’t know how we did it. OW put a tremendous amount of effort into it. I had no idea a nice wedding could be so important to a man! We even had a little honeymoon on the beach in South Florida, in the town I lived in for years and years. I was on semi-bedrest so I mostly sat in the living room of our suite and looked at the beach, but it was beautiful and relaxing. Sadly, his plan for a honeymoon in New Zealand has been put on indefinite hold.

So now it’s a year later. I can’t believe it’s been a year already and I wish we could have a celebration befitting a first anniversary. A romantic weekend getaway in the same boutique hotel where we spent our honeymoon would be perfect. A close second would be a few days in the mountains of North Carolina.

I’m afraid what we will actually do is call my mother-in-law at the last minute and have dinner at a decent restaurant where you don’t need a reservation, then rush home because we know the babies won’t go down for their grandma and will likely be screaming. I don’t really have the time or energy to c0me up with the sort of creative, romantic gift I would have pre-twins. I’m even at a loss for ideas for a non-romantic, non-creative gift.

What I’m most nervous about is that OW will do something really thoughtful for me and I will have crap for him. It’s causing me a lot of stress and anxiety. Taking care of the boys is just so all-consuming. Do you have any easy-to-execute ideas for me?

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

The Ride of Our Lives

There is a post I need to finish writing. It’s the most difficult and soul-baring one I’ve done. I feel stuck, and haven’t been able to finish it yet. The crazy thing is that I have felt I couldn’t write another post until I finish that one. I know in my head that that’s silly. I guess I feel like I shouldn’t post anything that feels frivolous when I have this giant weight sitting on my chest. When I finally do post it, I imagine some people might shrug their shoulders and think, “Is this what she’s been on about? Puh-leese.” And I do understand that there are things that loom much larger in my head than what is probably reasonable.

So that’s quite a teaser, eh? In the meantime, I’m going to get over the posting block and just post. So there giant-looming-sitting-on-my-chest-thing!

One of my recent Facebook status updates was: Boom! Got my Cadillac!

Most people who know me knew exactly what that meant. I had the stroller of my dreams in my hot little hands.

Strollers.

There are 15 opinions for every 10 strollers. This seems particularly true for strollers built for two.

When I was pregnant I bought a used Graco Duoglider with two matching infant car seats for $125. The stroller alone, new, is about $150, and is a popular, relatively budget-friendly option.

I was excited about it because it seemed just perfect. Snap the car seats on when they are little and then use it as a regular stroller later. I’d heard that a tandem was a little hard to maneuver and turn, but figured a side-by-side would be all sorts of trouble in store aisles and so forth. As it turned out, the Graco is heavy and you have to disassemble part of it in order to fold it up. Then you have to put those pieces back on in order to use the feature that allows you to snap the car seats on it. Ugh.

Then I heard good things about the Snap-n-Go by Baby Trend. It is basically a frame onto which you can snap infant car seats. The double only weighs about 15 pounds and you don’t have to take anything off to fold it up. I bought one used for $30.  I have loved that thing. It has been one of the best purchases I’ve made. In fact, nine  months later I’m still using it, though not as much as before. The boys are at a point where they want to sit up and see what’s going on.

I decided it was time to start using the Graco but discovered pretty quickly that the Graco is a beast. I need both hands to push and steer it and it has a huge turning radius. I thought the slim width would make it easy to get through doors, but the darn thing is so long that getting a door open and getting through without someone getting bruised up is just about impossible! Oh – and try getting through a door-then-door situation. It’s also truly designed only for smooth, paved surfaces. It does not do very well over grass and certainly can’t handle unpaved trails.

I knew I needed something different and fell into the black hole of stroller reviews. Good grief. People seem to have a love/hate relationship with their strollers and if one person tells you that the Bob Jogger is the best out there, the next person will tell you it’s a piece of crap. After reading lots and lots and lots of opinions and test driving a few at Babies R Us and Buy Buy Baby, I fell in love with the Bumbleride Indie Twin.

Oh, My Precious, My Precious!

Inflated tires and a suspension system for a smooth ride even over gravel, tree roots, mulch etc. Huge canopies for true coverage. Independently reclining seats that slide, so you can have them at any angle. Adjustable height handle so Tall Me won’t kick the back of the stroller while pushing it. Front tires that swivel, allowing it to turn on a dime. The ability to lock the front tires for jogging or rough trail usage. Adjustable foot rests. 29 inches wide, so it will fit through any standard doorway and aisles that are wide enough for wheelchairs (which all aisles should be, by the way). Yeh, it’s 34 pounds – as heavy as the Graco, but other than that there is no comparison.

The downside? It’s a $700 stroller. Gulp.

I felt like I couldn’t justify $700 for a stroller, even though OW told me to buy it if I wanted it (he’s so sweet like that). But I just couldn’t do it. I started stalking Craig’s List, but they hardly ever come up, so I didn’t hold out much hope. Then I saw one… I emailed immediately but someone had already snatched it up. I was despondent. Why so much emotion over a damn stroller? Still, I checked CL every day, hoping against hope that I’d find another one.

And then it happened.

A gorgeous, seagrass green 2009 model (yes, these strollers have model years) for $300. My hands were sweating as I emailed the owner. I tried to play it cool. When I went to meet her, I looked it over carefully and turned up my nose a bit as I touched this and that. She casually mentioned that she had the rain cover, foot muffs and liners, and matching diaper bag. Those items didn’t come with that model and together cost about $200.  I almost fainted. The thing was in wonderful condition. I took a deep breath and offered her $250. Her eyes got big and she said she really was firm at $300 and that these often sell for $400. I sniffed and said I’d found them for less than what she was asking but just hadn’t gotten to them first. The truth was that I would have bought it even if she’d upped the price to $350 right there in the parking lot, but I sighed and said, “Well, ok, I’ll take it.”

Am I a bitch or what? I handed her the cash and loaded everything up into my van. As I drove away, I looked in the rear view mirror to make sure she wasn’t behind me, and then I did a goofy little chair dance and giggled wildly all the way home.

Oh the things that make me happy now that I’m a mom of young’ns again.

And yes, I LOVE my Bumbleride.

Next up: A fabulous Ju Ju Be, Petunia Picklebottom, or CoCaLo Couture diaper bag. Craig’s List, I’m watching you!

 

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

The Twins’ First Christmas

The twins’ first Christmas was fun, but we made an effort not to go crazy with it. OW and I agreed not to buy them any presents. They really have everything they need right now, won’t remember it, and will get plenty of gifts from relatives. Unfortunately, OW couldn’t resist the urge and did buy them a few things. I did not and then I felt like a heel.

Santa brings a red wagon for the boys

That aside, I’d been determined to enjoy this first Christmas with my all four of my boys, so OW and I made some decisions early on. We bought far fewer gifts this year, focusing on family and settling for sending cards to friends. OW and I decided to get ourselves a new TV for the bedroom and not buy any gifts for each other (OW reneged on that too, but only a little). We only went to one party. We decorated but didn’t pull out every single knick-knack from the boxes. I didn’t do any baking or fool myself into thinking I’d make lovely food gifts for all of my neighbors.

All of this really did make for a more peaceful holiday and I’m glad we did it. As the boys get older I’d like to incorporate them into activities like decorating and baking, but for now I’m happy to keep it very simple. We had a leisurely morning eating sausage balls and sticky buns, listening to Christmas music, and opening our relatively few presents. We went to OW’s mom’s house for dinner in the afternoon and that was the most stressful part of the day. The twins wouldn’t sleep and hardly ate and were miserable, cranky babies. I nearly put my foot down and refused to go because I knew what we were in for, but I also knew that would result in a war, so I acquiesced.

Do you celebrate something at this time of year? How did you spend your holiday?

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Outings with the Babes

I’ve managed outings alone with the twins two days in a row now. We have relatively short windows of opportunity in which to get things done while both boys are clean, fed and not in need of a nap. It seems to wear them out, so they often fall asleep in the car on the way home, which is a disaster. They won’t stay asleep in their car seats after we get home, but when I try to gently transfer them, they always wake up from their 10 or 15 minute nap ready to go. This means our regular napping schedule (I use the term loosely) gets messed up.

Truthfully, our lives would probably be easier if we never went out. Then I could keep them on a sleeping, eating, diaper changing, playing schedule. I’ve never been one for keeping children on a schedule but these guys do so much better when we have a solid routine.

Yesterday we tried sitting in the grocery cart for the first time. Neither Peanut Butter nor Jelly can sit very well on their own, but I was counting on the support they could give each other and the waist strap to keep them mostly upright. I also stuffed blankets on the side. I’m not 100% sure it was worth all the trouble. It takes about as long to do that as to put one up on my back. Still, it was fun to see them like that.

Jelly & Peanut Butter in a grocery cart for the first time

Today in the parking lot of a store, I was busily getting the boys sorted out in the cart. It’s in the low 50s F (11C) here and the boys and I were dressed in long pants, socks (well, I had shoes on) and long sleeved shirts. I didn’t bother with hats or coats or sweaters because we only needed to walk from our warm car to the warm store. A well-meaning old lady stopped to, er, help. She was convinced the boys were not dressed warmly enough, that I had the shopping cart too far into the lane of traffic, and that they were not comfortable in the cart. Sigh. I smiled and assured her that we were all fine. She was not at all convinced.

I hope I won’t be the sort of old lady who interferes with others’ parenting choices. I’ll just be condescending and judgmental in my head. J

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Feeling Incompetent

Today has been one of those days where I am pretty sure I just can’t do it. I feel completely inept at taking care of my children, my husband, the house and myself. The sleeping problems around here seem to be getting worse, not better, and I am exhausted.

I haven’t been to the supermarket in nearly two weeks. There are mountains of crap piled up on both the dining room and kitchen tables. The kitchen is only clean because Super-Husband cleans it, runs the dishwasher and empties the dishwasher every day. The floors – oh the floors. We have a sand pit in the area next to the dog door. Dog hair tumbleweeds drift across the living room. I can’t remember to do basic things like call the pediatrician for a refill on Jelly’s reflux medicine. Poor OW probably doesn’t remember what I look like naked. I’m so miserable and ashamed about how I’m neglecting him. I swore I wouldn’t.

You know how they say the Universe (or God or Allah or Goddess – take your pick) doesn’t give you more than you can handle? That’s a flat-out lie. It’s a lie. People regularly get more than they can handle. The fact that folks live, physically, through hard times does not mean they “handled” it. People freak out, retreat, end up in psych units, drink, drug and lots of other things.

I’m not drinking (much anyway), drugging, near being committed or anything like that. I am freaking out and retreating. We ARE given more than we can handle sometimes. Now is one of those times for me. There is a voice in the back of my head that whispers, “They will grow out of this. This isn’t forever. You will sleep again. You will be able to vacuum the floor again. You will shave your legs again. You will be able to make time for your husband again.” But I don’t believe her.  I’m having a really hard time seeing past the sleep deprivation; past the endless, miserable days when the boys simply will not sleep.

I made a decision last week that was really, really hard for me, and I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing. I think that’s adding to the stress I’m feeling. I’m not good at making decisions, which is why I married a man who is great at it, and I am nearly always happy to defer to his judgement. But this was a decision only I could make and no one could or can really help me with it.

I come back all the time to the nagging worry that I will not make good decisions and that my poor decisions will negatively impact my children and haunt them into adulthood. I know this is a possibility because I see the results of my bad decisions in my two adult children. The regret I live with is crushing and makes me feel nearly paralyzed when it comes to making certain decisions about the kids in Parenting Part II. I KNOW that I am inept in some ways. Not in every way, I’ll give myself that, but in ways that count. I didn’t think I would have to revisit my shortcomings in this area again. Now here they are, bright and shining in my face like an interrogation lamp.

Maybe I’ll be able to see things more clearly once I’ve had a few days of decent sleep, but I don’t know when that will be. In the meantime,  I am desperately treading water, trying to stop the waves from pushing me under. Sometimes it seems like it would be easier to just stop kicking, but I know I can’t. And I won’t.

But damn, my legs are tired.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

First Day-Trip with the Twins

We went to the 4^th annual Seagrove Pottery Festival this weekend. This was our first all-day trip out with the twins and I was scared to death. They are 7 months old and we’d never taken a day trip! It was a two-hour drive each way. We thought we’d drive out, spend a couple of hours there and then drive back. Instead, we left the house at 9:30 a.m. and didn’t return until 6:30 p.m. They boys did so much better than I thought they would, but I attribute that almost entirely to the fact that we wore them the entire time. No stroller whatsoever. After wearing them at the State Fair last month, I think OW realized what a good idea it really is.

This was at the Farmers Market a couple of months ago.

We took them off only a couple of times to change diapers and nurse. On every aisle we were stopped over and over by people expressing astonishment at the fact that we had twins and were wearing them. Ha! It is such a strange thing to me that it is strange. I pitied the folks trying to navigate a stroller through the maze of very expensive, very fragile pottery.

We ended up spending way more than we’d planned on, but isn’t that the way it is? These are pieces that will appreciate in value and things we love. We even won a gorgeous piece in a silent auction. There is a very well-known potter named Boyd Owens who was so friendly and kind to us. He gave us two Noah’s Ark themed mugs for the boys and it made my heart flutter!

Some of the pieces we bought.

The boys started crying when we were about 15 minutes from the house, which was difficult, but they were calm the rest of the evening. We were triumphant in our victory, but we celebrated too soon. Peanut Butter and Jelly did not sleep well at all that night, and we thought we’d lose our minds before sunrise. Was it a coincidence or punishment for our gall?

The success of this trip is making me think that maybe we’re starting to turn a corner. I’m finding a bit easier to have a predictable routine, I can plan little errands out of the house without it causing a meltdown for all of us, and the boys can play and entertain themselves for a little while at a time. I’m afraid to be too optimistic but I don’t want to have a negative attitude that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy either.

Now if we could just get this sleep thing worked out…

Funky piggy banks for the boys. Check out the teeth on the blue one and the tusks on the green one!

When did you attempt your first day trip out with your newborn? I’m especially interested in hearing from you if you have twins.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Running Around in Circles

If I could add one thing to my daily routine, it would be exercise.

Ok, ok, pick yourself up off of the floor. It wasn’t that funny.

I do want/need to exercise. I’m a thin couch potato and it’s starting to catch up to me. My blood pressure seems to go up and down a good deal more than it ought to; I have ridiculous aches and pains for someone my age; I don’t have the stamina to keep up with twin toddlers; and I’m at my pre-pregnancy weight yet I’m a blob of jello.

Most of all, I want to be a good role model for the boys. Their dad has a big weight problem and I am just terrified of passing along bad habits to them. We eat well at home – I see to that – but neither of us exercises and Daddy doesn’t practice any sort of portion control whatsoever.

I’m already going to be one of the older moms in the carpool line at school. I don’t want to be the decrepit one too.

I started by say that if I could add one thing… but the truth is that it’s not a matter of can or can’t. It’s a matter of will I or won’t I. So far, I won’t. And I am not sure why.

My excuses:

1. I am not a morning person, and the idea of getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise after having had little and often disrupted sleep just horrifies me.
2. There isn’t a stretch of uninterrupted time during the day to do much. If I’m not directly dealing with the babies I’m generally doing laundry, vacuuming, folding clothes, washing dishes, preparing dinner and so forth.
3. OW gets home from work between 7:30 and 8:00 p.m. every night. After we eat, clean up the kitchen, get everything ready for the next day and get the boys to sleep, it’s 11:00 p.m. and off to bed we go.

I keep picturing myself outside, running laps around my neighborhood, feeling strong and healthy. My wiggly jiggly baby fat begins to firm up, the muffin top over my jeans disappears. I can chase the babies, do laundry, cook a meal and still have enough energy to, ahem, help out my poor, long-suffering husband.

Am I living in la-la land? Is there some sort of tipping point that will give me the push I need to get started?

Do you exercise? How did you start? What motivates you to keep going? How are you able to make it a priority?

 

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Thankful #1

It seems my blogs are frequently morose and whiny. Maybe whiny is too strong a word. I have things inside that need to come out and I guess it’s not surprising that the darker things tend to force their way to the front. And it’s true that I’m frequently overwhelmed and sometimes downright depressed. But there are also good times; sweet times; times I want to last forever.

It’s popular in November for United State-ians to talk about what they’re thankful for. I usually try to avoid doing what everyone else is doing (I’m still rebellious like that), but it occurs to me that being thankful is not trite. I think if I spent more time being thankful, I’d spend less time feeling sorry for myself.

Today has been a good day, so I feel more able to come up with a list of things I’m thankful for. I know that I really need to do this exercise on a day when I’m feeling crappy. Some of these might seem strange, but I include them because I have experienced the opposite of what I’ve listed.

1. My pre-pregnancy jeans fit
2. I am, on the whole, healthy
3. I have four wonderful, healthy, gorgeous children
4. My unexpected child turned out to be two, and they will always have each other
5. I have, truly, the best husband any woman could ask for
6. And he really loves me – he really does and it amazes me
7. The sun shines into my living room every day
8. I have a fairly large extended family living close by
9. I live in a 1^st world country
10. I never worry about where my next meal will come from
11. I not only have adequate shelter, I have a beautiful, safe, warm place to live
12. Careful budgeting allows me to be at home with my precious babies
13. I have a dishwasher
14. I apparently don’t (yet) look like I was rode hard and put up wet
15. My twins will grow up with cousins and friends and dogs and love
16. I can relax enough to write, “What are you thankful for?” instead of “For what are you thankful?”

What is one big thing and one little thing you’re thankful for?

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Just Write, #2

Linking up with Just Write

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The babies wake up happy, as usual. We nurse and smile and talk to Daddy and the dogs. Diapers are changed, laundry is started, the Today show keeps me company in the background. I’m hungry and cross my fingers, hoping they’ll stay happy long enough for me to scramble an egg.

They don’t, and I have to turn off the stove halfway through the process. Peanut Butter is extra hungry and Jelly isn’t far behind. I don’t want to start the day with formula. I won’t start the day with formula. We’ll nurse every 30 minutes if we need to. I’ll put off giving them formula until at least noon. I am determined.

But so are they. I give in and decide that 2 ounces will be enough to take off the edge and we will resume our nursing non-schedule. Jelly is happy enough and plays with his toes. Peanut Butter is not. He is still hungry, so I pick him up and nuzzle him into my breast. He screams and arches his back, over and over. I prop him on my shoulder and pat his back, trying to whisper calming and encouraging things to him. I try again, he screams louder. I am struggling to hold in my growing anger.

Maybe he’s not hungry. Maybe he needs to be distracted by a toy. This doesn’t work and he continues to scream. We try the breast again and the rejection is tearing at my heart. I sob and shout out and pound on the arm of the couch. There is milk there! Why won’t you take it! Why are you rejecting me?

This is the only thing I can give you that is truly unique. Anyone can bathe you. Anyone can hold you. Anyone and smile at you and play with you. Anyone can give you a bottle with that wretched liquid in it. Your rejection feels so personal and it fills me with an irrational rage. I’m angry with my body, and myself and even you. I’m angry at myself for being angry with you. You’re an infant, telling me what you need in the only way you know how.

But every drop you take from that bottle is a drop you don’t take from me. Every drop is a reminder of my failure to provide for you. If I can’t take care of you in this most basic way, how will I be able to be a good mother to you in the rest of your life? These thoughts are ridiculous, I know. But they are so big and so real and sometimes, often even, I want to just give up. I want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and leave the rearing of you both to someone who can do a better job.

I resign myself to giving you a 4 ounce bottle. Drink what you want of it. I’m obviously unable to give you what you need and want. Six ounces is more than half of my daily goal of keeping the supplementation at or below 10 ounces. I know that the more formula you drink, the less I will produce and I am filled with dread and sadness at the prospect of you weaning early, but I can’t leave you hungry.

All is quiet now. Your brother is having his morning nap and you, satiated, roll across the floor and giggle at the dog. I cry and wonder what sort of monster I am to project my own feelings of inadequacy on a helpless child.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.