Oh I can't believe I just got off the phone with Will's school principal - well, no, that's not right. That part is believable. What I can't believe is that I just told her that I'll be home schooling him come January. I had a "what was I thinking" moment today. I have those a lot since I've started to seriously entertain thoughts of home schooling my brood.
More on that as things develop. Yeah, you know I'm going to post some crazy stuff here once all four kids are home with me all day long.
In other news, our 2 year old got his fingers wedged in our automatic minivan doors. He cried for 45 minutes straight. We were sure he had broken something. I took him to the doctor for an x-ray. Doctor said he looked OK but gave him a splint. Long story short, aside from a little bruising and tenderness, he's back to normal.
The twins are fine. They're nursing colds and cutting teeth but are sleeping through the night more often. They're on solids now - recently trying chicken and sweet potato combo and for tomorrow we have turkey with veggies. Mr. Cubby tries to feed them goldfish crackers, gum, Tic-Tacs and various non-food items. So thank goodness they're getting teeth.
I can't believe it's almost Christmas. Miss Boo (our new name for our sweet baby girl) and Mr. Poot ... I should change it to Mr. Poo so they rhyme... are 7 months old... oh and someone is crying.
Must dash.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Picture Crazy
I'm so exited that I found the post a picture button. How did it take me nearly a year to find it? Oh right, it's because I'm a conservative. Duh.
Here are pictures of the twins right after they were born. I guess I could add them to an earlier post but I'm too tired to hunt it down right now. Maybe some other day.
Crazy Halloween
Our Halloween in a nutshell went as follows:
Will lost his Darth Vader costume and went as Pope St. Pius X instead. (I made him a pope costume because he had to be Pius X for the school All Saints party). He chased our neighbor, Iron Man, shooting him with Jesus rays from his crucifix - which just goes to show you that boys can make weapons out of anything.
Mr. Cubby was finally persuaded to wear his Dragasaurus costume after I wore it around the house on my head on Halloween morning. He was fascinated by the whole knocking on doors to get candy thing and as we went from house to house he alternated between saying, "Trick or treat" and "Hi. Gimme some candy."
The Twins were mostly miserable and wanted to go to bed but we took them out anyway. We borrowed a parenting tip from one of my sis-in-laws telling them, "You're going trick or treating and you're going to like it."
Will's proudest moment, aside from wearing his saintly pontiff costume was carving a vomiting pumpkin. He's very proud of how gross it was... so proud, in fact, that he told many a kindly old lady who gave him candy on Halloween night about his "pumpkin that has lots of vomit coming out of his mouth but not real vomit just seeds and the inside of the pumpkin part."
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Promises, Promises
On April 8th, I wrote of the difficult time I was going through with the GD and the pregnancy and that my husband PROMISED to buy me stuff - also known in some circles as gifts.
For the record - I have received nothing. No flowers. No candy. No certificates for back rubs. Nope. Nada. No diamonds. Not a pony farm, my own vineyard, liposuction, or a BMW. Nothing.
In his defense, we've been busy what with the twins and all. But every time he esapes to Costco after the kids are in bed I always yell, "Don't forget to buy me a present." And he's so cute. He laughs and pretends that I'm kidding.
When ever he is within ear shot now, I hum "Promises, Promises" by Spandau Ballet and pray that he gets the not-so-subliminal message.
Well I'm off because I think I have pink eye. Woo hoo.
For the record - I have received nothing. No flowers. No candy. No certificates for back rubs. Nope. Nada. No diamonds. Not a pony farm, my own vineyard, liposuction, or a BMW. Nothing.
In his defense, we've been busy what with the twins and all. But every time he esapes to Costco after the kids are in bed I always yell, "Don't forget to buy me a present." And he's so cute. He laughs and pretends that I'm kidding.
When ever he is within ear shot now, I hum "Promises, Promises" by Spandau Ballet and pray that he gets the not-so-subliminal message.
Well I'm off because I think I have pink eye. Woo hoo.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Schoolyard Jail Game Gets Political
We have to torture Will to get him to talk about his day at school. Direct questioning is no more effective against him than it is with KGB operatives... hmmmm, perhaps I'll need to explore that further on another day. Suffice it to say, we hardly know anything about what he does in school.
We do know that he occasionally plays Batman or Star Wars at recess. These are fun games consisting of evolving rules, tackling, shooting, and sometimes jump ropes.
Today was an all together different story and I must confess that it made me like his school a little more.
In between "Mom, can I have some more green beans," and "Mom, isn't it cool how the dog can eat off my fork," the following conversation happened:
Will: "Today I was President Bush."
Me: "Really? Were you studying about him in class?"
Will: "No. I played him."
Me: "Were you studying the election?"
Will: "No. I was him at recess."
Me (incredulous): "You were President Bush at recess?"
Will (with a big, big smile because he knows he has my undivided attention): "We were playing Presidents today. I was President Bush. Trevor wanted to be President Bush too but I told him, 'No way. I get to be him.' Then he cried but we told him that he could be George Washington, which is very cool because he's like the first President."
Me: "So what kind of game was this?"
Will: "Well, John was John McCain, because his name is John. Then Payton was Sarah Palin. Riley said he'd be Barack Obama and Pablo said he was Joe Biden. And Ryan was Abraham Lincoln and there were some other Presidents too."
Me: "Did you spend recess talking about the election?"
Will: "No. All the Presidents chased Barack Obama and Joe Biden so we could put them in jail. No one likes them. We want them to lose."
Me: "Whose idea was this?"
Will: "Payton's. She said, we all should play Presidents. Then she said, 'I get to be Sarah Palin.' I thought it was a good idea so I said that I'd be George Bush."
In closing, we do not advocate throwing any of the political candidates in jail. But I think it's funny that a group of sweaty second graders are running around a schoolyard trying to put Obama and Biden in jail. Somewhere in this story is a really funny Onion article.
Yes, we talk politics a lot in our home. A LOT. It's comforting to know that there are other families who do the same - in fact, it appears that the majority of parents in Will's class do too. I'd also like to add that I think it's inspiring to hear about little girls not only jumping in to play with the boys on the playground but taking the lead. I think that Payton may have a political future... and possibly Will, though that may conflict with his plan to become Pope.
We do know that he occasionally plays Batman or Star Wars at recess. These are fun games consisting of evolving rules, tackling, shooting, and sometimes jump ropes.
Today was an all together different story and I must confess that it made me like his school a little more.
In between "Mom, can I have some more green beans," and "Mom, isn't it cool how the dog can eat off my fork," the following conversation happened:
Will: "Today I was President Bush."
Me: "Really? Were you studying about him in class?"
Will: "No. I played him."
Me: "Were you studying the election?"
Will: "No. I was him at recess."
Me (incredulous): "You were President Bush at recess?"
Will (with a big, big smile because he knows he has my undivided attention): "We were playing Presidents today. I was President Bush. Trevor wanted to be President Bush too but I told him, 'No way. I get to be him.' Then he cried but we told him that he could be George Washington, which is very cool because he's like the first President."
Me: "So what kind of game was this?"
Will: "Well, John was John McCain, because his name is John. Then Payton was Sarah Palin. Riley said he'd be Barack Obama and Pablo said he was Joe Biden. And Ryan was Abraham Lincoln and there were some other Presidents too."
Me: "Did you spend recess talking about the election?"
Will: "No. All the Presidents chased Barack Obama and Joe Biden so we could put them in jail. No one likes them. We want them to lose."
Me: "Whose idea was this?"
Will: "Payton's. She said, we all should play Presidents. Then she said, 'I get to be Sarah Palin.' I thought it was a good idea so I said that I'd be George Bush."
In closing, we do not advocate throwing any of the political candidates in jail. But I think it's funny that a group of sweaty second graders are running around a schoolyard trying to put Obama and Biden in jail. Somewhere in this story is a really funny Onion article.
Yes, we talk politics a lot in our home. A LOT. It's comforting to know that there are other families who do the same - in fact, it appears that the majority of parents in Will's class do too. I'd also like to add that I think it's inspiring to hear about little girls not only jumping in to play with the boys on the playground but taking the lead. I think that Payton may have a political future... and possibly Will, though that may conflict with his plan to become Pope.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Conspiracy of Stupids
Go Sarah Palin. This post is entirely NOT about my kids.
I put together a liberal definition of conservatism for those not in the know. It's a conspiracy of a few incredibly stupid people who are out to ruin the country. You'd think the left would get more creative over time. You know, try to think of some other label to pin on conservatives besides "stupid." Reagan was stupid. Clarence Thomas is stupid. Scalia is stupid. Of course all members of the Bush family are ridiculously stupid. McCain, though not a conservative, is stupid because he's running against a Super Liberal. And now Sarah Palin is dumber than a box of rocks, right?
I even saw a blogger on Wonkette call her retarded. And if that doesn't offend the masses, I don't know what would.
Is it actually possible that all of these people are stupid? Did each one hoodwink us into thinking he was smart, only to turn on us with incredible stupidity the moment he gained power? Will we not notice how stupid they are without the very helpful media coming to our aid and pointing this out? (I've been able to figure out how stupid some liberals are without media help). Or was each conservative's success a complete fluke? Maybe it was part of a conspiracy (perhaps a vast right wing one) to take smart liberal people out of power and replace them with Folgers Crystals?
Give me a break, people. My request to liberals is please, move beyond this and have a substantive debate... unless you're just too chicken-shit because you know your ideas suck.
This baseless name-calling smacks of paranoia and stupidity on the part of the libs. And also an utter lack of creativity. Call conservatives what you will, but don't just dismiss us as "stupid" and think we're going to go away.
Can't you just imagine Katie Couric, the cast of The View - sans Elizabeth, John Kerry - pick your favorite libs - standing around in the exclusive social climbing seventh grade click hissing gossipy whispers about how stupid the "nerdy" smart conservatives are who care less about status and more about making the world a better place.
Who does political cartoons? Someone draw this now!
I put together a liberal definition of conservatism for those not in the know. It's a conspiracy of a few incredibly stupid people who are out to ruin the country. You'd think the left would get more creative over time. You know, try to think of some other label to pin on conservatives besides "stupid." Reagan was stupid. Clarence Thomas is stupid. Scalia is stupid. Of course all members of the Bush family are ridiculously stupid. McCain, though not a conservative, is stupid because he's running against a Super Liberal. And now Sarah Palin is dumber than a box of rocks, right?
I even saw a blogger on Wonkette call her retarded. And if that doesn't offend the masses, I don't know what would.
Is it actually possible that all of these people are stupid? Did each one hoodwink us into thinking he was smart, only to turn on us with incredible stupidity the moment he gained power? Will we not notice how stupid they are without the very helpful media coming to our aid and pointing this out? (I've been able to figure out how stupid some liberals are without media help). Or was each conservative's success a complete fluke? Maybe it was part of a conspiracy (perhaps a vast right wing one) to take smart liberal people out of power and replace them with Folgers Crystals?
Give me a break, people. My request to liberals is please, move beyond this and have a substantive debate... unless you're just too chicken-shit because you know your ideas suck.
This baseless name-calling smacks of paranoia and stupidity on the part of the libs. And also an utter lack of creativity. Call conservatives what you will, but don't just dismiss us as "stupid" and think we're going to go away.
Can't you just imagine Katie Couric, the cast of The View - sans Elizabeth, John Kerry - pick your favorite libs - standing around in the exclusive social climbing seventh grade click hissing gossipy whispers about how stupid the "nerdy" smart conservatives are who care less about status and more about making the world a better place.
Who does political cartoons? Someone draw this now!
Stepping Away
As I write this, our twin boy is in the other room, on my bed, crying. He has been crying since 9am this morning. He took a 15 minute break to cat nap during his perpetual crying jag so I could make lunch for Mr. Cubby. He took another 15 minute break while he drank 6 ounces of formula. His sister has been sleeping for three hours and for that I am thankful. My jam level is such that I finally had to put him down and walk away. Holding him doesn't help. Nursing him doesn't help. Talking to him and playing helped briefly but within 5 minutes, he was screaming again. He alternates between sad whimpers and full on battle cries but there is no pleasing him.
He has days like this from time to time where he won't nap until the late afternoon. He's so tired - so overtired - and yet he won't sleep. He just won't sleep.
We're trying not to make the same mistakes we made with Mr. Cubby, whose nighttime bedtime ritual is excruciating - compounded by the fact that he has been known to cry so hard he vomits. The cry it out option is more or less off the table for the Cubby.
And suddenly, the storm has passed. There is silence from my bed. Checking on him reveals a sleeping child, finally, soundly asleep. I'm hoping it's not just another cat nap.
He took his first solid food this morning - rice cereal. We're waiting a little bit longer to start his twin sister on solids. She's not quite ready yet.
Argh, and now, 15 minutes into his nap, the boy is awake and fussing again.
He has days like this from time to time where he won't nap until the late afternoon. He's so tired - so overtired - and yet he won't sleep. He just won't sleep.
We're trying not to make the same mistakes we made with Mr. Cubby, whose nighttime bedtime ritual is excruciating - compounded by the fact that he has been known to cry so hard he vomits. The cry it out option is more or less off the table for the Cubby.
And suddenly, the storm has passed. There is silence from my bed. Checking on him reveals a sleeping child, finally, soundly asleep. I'm hoping it's not just another cat nap.
He took his first solid food this morning - rice cereal. We're waiting a little bit longer to start his twin sister on solids. She's not quite ready yet.
Argh, and now, 15 minutes into his nap, the boy is awake and fussing again.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Sneaking Away
I'm typing one-handed while nursing and supervising the 2 older boys are in the tub so not exactly sneaking away. The most recent news from the tub is, "Mommy, Mr. Cubby is putting a washcloth on me for no reason."
It's been a long time since my last post but I've been busy. Yesterday I got a hicky on my shoulder from our baby girl. So mothers beware. Tank tops and hungry babies are not to be mixed. The thing is, I didn't even realize she had latched to my shoulder. That's how nuts it is around here.
Also of note from yesterday, I was stabbed in the ankle with a fork. True. I got a baby hicky and a stab wound all in the same day. Our toddler, who refuses to use toddler utensils because he wants to be like the rest of us, dropped his "big boy" fork from his high chair. The high chair doesn't look that high, but if I were to judge based on the velocity of the fork when it pierced my skin, I'd say the high chair is approximately 97 feet tall. And yes, there was blood.
The twins are doing great, BTW. Our boy looks more like Pootie-Poot every day - only not evil. And the sun rises and sets around our dear baby girl... literally. She's awake for both events.
Sunday is pancake breakfast at church. Woo hoo. AND we're having dinner at my brother's tommorrow and dinner at my mom-in-law's on Sunday. What a great weekend, right? No cooking!
Oh, and P.S. Today the twins turn 5 months old. Happy birthday, guys!
It's been a long time since my last post but I've been busy. Yesterday I got a hicky on my shoulder from our baby girl. So mothers beware. Tank tops and hungry babies are not to be mixed. The thing is, I didn't even realize she had latched to my shoulder. That's how nuts it is around here.
Also of note from yesterday, I was stabbed in the ankle with a fork. True. I got a baby hicky and a stab wound all in the same day. Our toddler, who refuses to use toddler utensils because he wants to be like the rest of us, dropped his "big boy" fork from his high chair. The high chair doesn't look that high, but if I were to judge based on the velocity of the fork when it pierced my skin, I'd say the high chair is approximately 97 feet tall. And yes, there was blood.
The twins are doing great, BTW. Our boy looks more like Pootie-Poot every day - only not evil. And the sun rises and sets around our dear baby girl... literally. She's awake for both events.
Sunday is pancake breakfast at church. Woo hoo. AND we're having dinner at my brother's tommorrow and dinner at my mom-in-law's on Sunday. What a great weekend, right? No cooking!
Oh, and P.S. Today the twins turn 5 months old. Happy birthday, guys!
Friday, June 6, 2008
Sleep? Who me?
Last night I saw every hour between midnight and now (it's 3pm). On the one hand, sleep deprivation makes me very tired and grouchy. On the other hand, I have seen first hand and now fully understand the importance of having the twins on the same feeding schedule.
Being the mother of twins is so cool. Taking them out in public makes all of the at-home craziness worth it. I took them in to Will's school this morning and you'd have thought I had the Baby Jesus in the stroller. People flocked to the babies, took pictures, stared (in a nice way), congratulated me, told me that I looked fabulous. (It's still all about me which is awesome - a pox on all of you nay sayers who said having a daughter would take away my princess status). The trip totally gave me the boost I needed to stay awake another 12 hours.... as did the Chick Fillet sweet tea.
I'd like to add that iTunes suck and that I can't figure out how to burn a cd. The program crashes continually. However, the nanny just arrived home with a giant bag of M&M's so I think it's time for a break.
TTFN
Being the mother of twins is so cool. Taking them out in public makes all of the at-home craziness worth it. I took them in to Will's school this morning and you'd have thought I had the Baby Jesus in the stroller. People flocked to the babies, took pictures, stared (in a nice way), congratulated me, told me that I looked fabulous. (It's still all about me which is awesome - a pox on all of you nay sayers who said having a daughter would take away my princess status). The trip totally gave me the boost I needed to stay awake another 12 hours.... as did the Chick Fillet sweet tea.
I'd like to add that iTunes suck and that I can't figure out how to burn a cd. The program crashes continually. However, the nanny just arrived home with a giant bag of M&M's so I think it's time for a break.
TTFN
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
No Clever Title Ideas
I never know if I'm spelling "cleaver" or "clever" when I'm writing "clever" so I have to write it both ways to make sure I've picked the right spelling. Don't want to mess that up on this since this is one of the top read blogs by the Pregnant Posse and the Obama Campaign.
Most people tell me that they've either a) always wished they were a twin or b) always wished they had given birth to twins. It's interesting because I've never had anyone tell me that they wish they could have 2 or 3 hours of sleep every night for four weeks straight. And I've also never heard anyone say that they wish they could have shared a Rubbermaid crate with another baby when they too were an infant. The idea of twins is quite romanticized. I give John and Kate Plus Eight a lot of credit from removing those rose-colored multiples glasses from my eyes.
Not that having twins isn't the best thing ever. It totally is. But it's also the hardest thing ever. Not just for the sleep deprivation but also because I find that I have a lot less free time than ever before. However, the cool thing is that I've also gained the grace to deal with it. God is great that way.
So yeah, we have the babies sleeping in a Rubbermaid container. I know it sounds crazy and also cheap and maybe a little irresponsible but I assure you, it really isn't. They slept in plastic containers in the NICU. The containers were called something fancy but let's be real here - they were plastic containers. We priced Moses baskets at Babies R Us the day Patagie came home. $120 on sale. TONS o' MONEY for a basket that you can also buy at Michael's for $10.99 (cheaper if you have the 40% off coupon).
So, by 11pm April 28th (the day our precious baby girl was released from the hospital) John (did I mention that he's a very crafty genius) had made her a Moses basket all by himself out of a true basket that we had been storing diapers in. It's a lovely basket - very soft and sturdy and large.
Unfortunately we had only one. So John bought two identical Rubbermaid containers from Target the next day. He made a mattress out of firm foam. We dropped the mattress into a waterproof pillow cover and then dropped that into a pillow case. Perfection. Our boy settled into that bed nicely. We're waiting until Miss Patagie outgrows her basket and then the plan is to put her into her own Rubbermaid. But for now the cool thing is that during our waking hours, they can sometimes share Pootie's container. It's adorable and what a commercial for Rubbermaid. Anyone know them? We'll be spokespersons.
The babies are growing really fast. Pootie is big now, probably at 8 or 9 lbs and Patagie is between 7 and 8. Pootie has a head the size of a cantaloupe. It's gargantuan. Patagie has Disney-Princess-sized eyes. They're enormous and blue and lovely. We're so blessed.
And can I just say that I love going out in public with them. I love all the attention they (and I) get. I hear a lot of "Ohhhhh are they twins." It's fun.
One last thing that is too funny not to mention. The other day John said to me, "I'm so tired of people asking me if twins run in our family. The next time someone asks me that I'm going to say, 'No they don't. We just had sex twice that night.'"
Most people tell me that they've either a) always wished they were a twin or b) always wished they had given birth to twins. It's interesting because I've never had anyone tell me that they wish they could have 2 or 3 hours of sleep every night for four weeks straight. And I've also never heard anyone say that they wish they could have shared a Rubbermaid crate with another baby when they too were an infant. The idea of twins is quite romanticized. I give John and Kate Plus Eight a lot of credit from removing those rose-colored multiples glasses from my eyes.
Not that having twins isn't the best thing ever. It totally is. But it's also the hardest thing ever. Not just for the sleep deprivation but also because I find that I have a lot less free time than ever before. However, the cool thing is that I've also gained the grace to deal with it. God is great that way.
So yeah, we have the babies sleeping in a Rubbermaid container. I know it sounds crazy and also cheap and maybe a little irresponsible but I assure you, it really isn't. They slept in plastic containers in the NICU. The containers were called something fancy but let's be real here - they were plastic containers. We priced Moses baskets at Babies R Us the day Patagie came home. $120 on sale. TONS o' MONEY for a basket that you can also buy at Michael's for $10.99 (cheaper if you have the 40% off coupon).
So, by 11pm April 28th (the day our precious baby girl was released from the hospital) John (did I mention that he's a very crafty genius) had made her a Moses basket all by himself out of a true basket that we had been storing diapers in. It's a lovely basket - very soft and sturdy and large.
Unfortunately we had only one. So John bought two identical Rubbermaid containers from Target the next day. He made a mattress out of firm foam. We dropped the mattress into a waterproof pillow cover and then dropped that into a pillow case. Perfection. Our boy settled into that bed nicely. We're waiting until Miss Patagie outgrows her basket and then the plan is to put her into her own Rubbermaid. But for now the cool thing is that during our waking hours, they can sometimes share Pootie's container. It's adorable and what a commercial for Rubbermaid. Anyone know them? We'll be spokespersons.
The babies are growing really fast. Pootie is big now, probably at 8 or 9 lbs and Patagie is between 7 and 8. Pootie has a head the size of a cantaloupe. It's gargantuan. Patagie has Disney-Princess-sized eyes. They're enormous and blue and lovely. We're so blessed.
And can I just say that I love going out in public with them. I love all the attention they (and I) get. I hear a lot of "Ohhhhh are they twins." It's fun.
One last thing that is too funny not to mention. The other day John said to me, "I'm so tired of people asking me if twins run in our family. The next time someone asks me that I'm going to say, 'No they don't. We just had sex twice that night.'"
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
6 1/2 weeks later...
Yeah, well the babies came early and wouldn't you know it - we've been just swamped with things to do. Go figure. We were totally unprepared. I started writing a bit about their birth while I was in the hospital because I knew I'd rarely get the chance once I came home. I hope to upload what I wrote when I find it - but who knows when that will be.
To sum up. My water broke at 4am on Saturday, April 19th. I yelled. John shot out of bed, grabbed the phone and hauled me out of the house faster than you can say, "The twins are on the way." I got the epidural - blessed thing that epidural. I'm a huge, huge fan now. Got an IV too - not a fan. Wish they had an epidural for the IV. Babies were born 15 minutes apart around 9am - my memory is fuzzy b/c of the multiple multiples late-night feedings. Pootie-Poot (the boy, who looks just like Vladimir Putin) weighed in at 5.7 and Patagie (the girl) weighed in at 4.1.
They are the smallest little babies I've ever set eyes on. Both spent time in the NICU - 10 days for the girl and 11 for the boy. Now they're home with us and doing quite well. Pootie-Poot is throwing a fit right now as I type... I'm hoping he runs his own battery down and falls asleep but the longer it goes on the more doubtful I become.
It's very odd to read my last entry and know that mere days later the babies were born. The pregnancy was very surreal, not at all like my first. The experience was amazing and I'd do it again in a heartbeat, of course. And I think, once I refund my sleep debt, I'll be ready to try for triplets.... :)
To sum up. My water broke at 4am on Saturday, April 19th. I yelled. John shot out of bed, grabbed the phone and hauled me out of the house faster than you can say, "The twins are on the way." I got the epidural - blessed thing that epidural. I'm a huge, huge fan now. Got an IV too - not a fan. Wish they had an epidural for the IV. Babies were born 15 minutes apart around 9am - my memory is fuzzy b/c of the multiple multiples late-night feedings. Pootie-Poot (the boy, who looks just like Vladimir Putin) weighed in at 5.7 and Patagie (the girl) weighed in at 4.1.
They are the smallest little babies I've ever set eyes on. Both spent time in the NICU - 10 days for the girl and 11 for the boy. Now they're home with us and doing quite well. Pootie-Poot is throwing a fit right now as I type... I'm hoping he runs his own battery down and falls asleep but the longer it goes on the more doubtful I become.
It's very odd to read my last entry and know that mere days later the babies were born. The pregnancy was very surreal, not at all like my first. The experience was amazing and I'd do it again in a heartbeat, of course. And I think, once I refund my sleep debt, I'll be ready to try for triplets.... :)
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
One Down, Two More To Go
My first doctor's appointment of the week is out of the way. Only two more to go.
My big news for the day is that my OB is rescheduling the twins' birthday. I'm very happy about this. I'm sad to lose St. Rita, whose feast day is May 22, as our prayer partner in the birth process but it's for a good cause. Since both babies are head down and have remained head down - as of today - my OB is going to let me try a regular delivery of the non-c-section variety. The catch is, of course, that they have to stay head down. If either switches then I'm screwed and off to surgery I go.
Our tentative date for induction is May 27. I'll be 38 weeks and 3 days (or so - there continues to be a several day discrepancy between my counting, my OB's counting, and the peri-nate's counting). That does mean more days of finger pricking and more days of big belly time. But it also gives the twins a slightly better chance of having mature lungs at birth ... and it gives me a better chance of going into labor naturally so I don't have to be induced - which is part of my master plan.
Today the doctor strongly encouraged me to have the epidural. It's as if she could see the natural child birth books on my dresser. How did she know? I shave my arm pits. I don't look like a woman of nature who shuns epidurals. What she doesn't know is that I'm so woefully unprepared for natural child birth that I sincerely doubt that I could do it again this time around. For starters, I'm too tired. For seconders, I'm getting absolutely no backrubbing from my "birth coach" (which is supposed to be happening every night to ensure that I'm relaxed enough to go to my "special place" when real labor starts).
Also a factor are the labor-like pains I'm experiencing everyday. I get a lot of cramping (which I believe I've mentioned) that radiates around to my back. It's a lot like labor pain. It's pain that makes me angry. No other way to describe it. I just get really angry. That reminds me of real labor and how bad it felt and that makes me think that maybe getting stabbed in the spinal column isn't so bad afterall.
In other news, Will got to see the Pope today. He went with his grandma to D.C. She said he was mature and very well behaved. Huh? My son??? I'm so proud! I wish I could have seen him. He led one decade of the rosary on a bus full of older kids and adults. He said to my mom, "I'm going to volunteer to lead. I have the courage." And then he did. When he finished, the entire bus clapped because he did such a good job. I can totally see him in seminary! He saw the Pope-mobile but got confused and thinks that it's a black stretch limo. Not surprised about that since he's dutifully saving his allowance to buy a limo when he's 16. (as if we're going to let him get his driver's license then).
Mr. Cubby had his first encounter with real sushi today. He likes it. And he loves playing with his chop sticks. It's heartbreaking and hysterical to watch him try to eat with them. He hunches over his tray with a chop stick in either hand. His brow is furrowed and his eyes focused with amazing intensity on the food he wants to pick up. He pushes the chop sticks together and smushes the food between the points and then... the food falls or flies away from his sticks. Poor kid. But so adorable to watch a near-2-year-old try to eat this way.
My big news for the day is that my OB is rescheduling the twins' birthday. I'm very happy about this. I'm sad to lose St. Rita, whose feast day is May 22, as our prayer partner in the birth process but it's for a good cause. Since both babies are head down and have remained head down - as of today - my OB is going to let me try a regular delivery of the non-c-section variety. The catch is, of course, that they have to stay head down. If either switches then I'm screwed and off to surgery I go.
Our tentative date for induction is May 27. I'll be 38 weeks and 3 days (or so - there continues to be a several day discrepancy between my counting, my OB's counting, and the peri-nate's counting). That does mean more days of finger pricking and more days of big belly time. But it also gives the twins a slightly better chance of having mature lungs at birth ... and it gives me a better chance of going into labor naturally so I don't have to be induced - which is part of my master plan.
Today the doctor strongly encouraged me to have the epidural. It's as if she could see the natural child birth books on my dresser. How did she know? I shave my arm pits. I don't look like a woman of nature who shuns epidurals. What she doesn't know is that I'm so woefully unprepared for natural child birth that I sincerely doubt that I could do it again this time around. For starters, I'm too tired. For seconders, I'm getting absolutely no backrubbing from my "birth coach" (which is supposed to be happening every night to ensure that I'm relaxed enough to go to my "special place" when real labor starts).
Also a factor are the labor-like pains I'm experiencing everyday. I get a lot of cramping (which I believe I've mentioned) that radiates around to my back. It's a lot like labor pain. It's pain that makes me angry. No other way to describe it. I just get really angry. That reminds me of real labor and how bad it felt and that makes me think that maybe getting stabbed in the spinal column isn't so bad afterall.
In other news, Will got to see the Pope today. He went with his grandma to D.C. She said he was mature and very well behaved. Huh? My son??? I'm so proud! I wish I could have seen him. He led one decade of the rosary on a bus full of older kids and adults. He said to my mom, "I'm going to volunteer to lead. I have the courage." And then he did. When he finished, the entire bus clapped because he did such a good job. I can totally see him in seminary! He saw the Pope-mobile but got confused and thinks that it's a black stretch limo. Not surprised about that since he's dutifully saving his allowance to buy a limo when he's 16. (as if we're going to let him get his driver's license then).
Mr. Cubby had his first encounter with real sushi today. He likes it. And he loves playing with his chop sticks. It's heartbreaking and hysterical to watch him try to eat with them. He hunches over his tray with a chop stick in either hand. His brow is furrowed and his eyes focused with amazing intensity on the food he wants to pick up. He pushes the chop sticks together and smushes the food between the points and then... the food falls or flies away from his sticks. Poor kid. But so adorable to watch a near-2-year-old try to eat this way.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Finger Prickin' Good
Those finger pricking lancets suck. 25% of them don't hurt but the rest of them do. This morning's was brutal. It bled and bled and hurt and hurt and now there's a big ol' bruise on my finger. I swear I did NOTHING different. I used a new lancet. It was horrible. But I felt better when I had my lowest fasting glucose levels to date - even though I ate peanut M&M's last night (and an apple, peanut butter, cheese, and nuts - yes, I am pregnant and I eat weird things when I'm pregnant).
Today, I've been eating more carbs than I'm allowed because I'm ravenously hungry. (That means hungry like a raven and as you probably know, birds eat two to three times their weight in food every day). My sugars have been normal - higher than usual but normal. Hooray.
Babies are kicking. They make me tired. It's hard to sit up, roll over, get out of bed, pee, lay down comfortably, stand for very long, or watch The Bachelor: London Caling (that's only because watching it makes me crave sparkling wine). Again, I'm not complaining. I'm thrilled to be pregnant and to be in the home-stretch. I'm only noting that I have officially entered the hard to do anything stage of pregnancy.
Mr. Cubby is awake and calling for me so I must be off. Enjoy your day, Rachel. And take care of those cankles. :)
Today, I've been eating more carbs than I'm allowed because I'm ravenously hungry. (That means hungry like a raven and as you probably know, birds eat two to three times their weight in food every day). My sugars have been normal - higher than usual but normal. Hooray.
Babies are kicking. They make me tired. It's hard to sit up, roll over, get out of bed, pee, lay down comfortably, stand for very long, or watch The Bachelor: London Caling (that's only because watching it makes me crave sparkling wine). Again, I'm not complaining. I'm thrilled to be pregnant and to be in the home-stretch. I'm only noting that I have officially entered the hard to do anything stage of pregnancy.
Mr. Cubby is awake and calling for me so I must be off. Enjoy your day, Rachel. And take care of those cankles. :)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Getting Doctors On My Side
Last night ended with my mom sitting tight-lipped in front of me at our kitchen barnter (bar/ counter). I was, as I often find myself these days, feeling rather like I did at 16. We were arguing, albeit nicely, over whether or not I was allowed to drive myself (IN MY OWN CAR) to the doctor. Normally I let her drive me everywhere and Mr. Cubby is shuttled along for the ride. He's logging a lot of car time these days as my number of weekly doctor visits climbs.
We got up this morning with the problem unresolved and no matter how I tried to frame the situation in a consistent, logical way my mom could only picture the 16 year old idiot me trying to borrow the car so I could crash it into a tree for fun. (I never did that but my mom often had that face when I wanted to borrow the car). My appointment was at 12:45, right during Mr. Cubby's sacred nap time. Why on earth would I want my very congested baby to skip his nap so my mom could drive me to the doctor? That's like agreeing to accept two minutes of peace now and a thousand minutes of crying later. Not worth it.
Finally, I get a bright idea and call my OB's office. Normally I would never call my doctor to settle a disagreement; I'd just talk my way into (or out of) doing what I want. But 16 year old me is much less credible than 35 year old me so I knew I didn't have a chance of swaying my mom's opinion of the situation.
The catch with the doctor is she's not in the office on Thursdays. I know this and I psych myself up to beg for professional help. I sit on hold for literally 10 minutes waiting. Then the receptionist gets on and I explain in my stressed-out voice (because I was) that I need someone to look at my file and tell me whether or not I've been restricted from driving. Amazingly she transfers me right away to the nurse practitioner. The brilliant NP tells me that my file says nothing about driving restrictions (which I already know) and that if I promise to drive only to my appointment and then back home - not doing any shopping in between - then it's OK.
Hooray.
My mom accepts this and turns over the keys. As soon as I walk into the garage ALONE at last, I yell, "See ya later, sucker. I'm never coming back." My mom peers out of the kitchen door, smiling. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asks in her smart-mom voice. (I have one of those too so I knew that I had indeed forgotten something). She still had my credit card. D'oh! My new-found freedom (and a pit stop at the Cheesecake Factory) vanished ... but only temporarily because I needed the credit card to pay the doctor. She was very nice to retrieve it for me and I was sufficiently humbled that I didn't taunt her again.
My date with the perinatologist (high risk doc) went very VERY well all things considered. My only beef with him was that he said my blood sugar levels looked "fine." I thought they looked GRRRRRREAT and I was hoping he'd do his Tony the Tiger impersonation to express his wonder and awe at the magnificent way I was managing my blood sugar through diet alone but he didn't.
My biggest thrill - outside of confirming that we are still having a boy and a girl - came when the doc told me that I could take a 10 minute walk a day. (Great way to start training for the Army 10 miler, right?) I was beside myself with happiness. Honestly. He cautioned that I should stop if I started having regular contractions (duh) and that I needed to be careful since I was walking a fine line between trying to prevent premature labor and control the GD. He was very reassuring about the pregnancy overall and even told me that since I had gone to 38 weeks with Mr. Cubby that I shouldn't have any problems going the distance this time. It's refreshing to hear that after all the warnings and cautions of my OB.
These guys are also optimistic about the babies being born "the regular way" as opposed to a c-section. The girl has been head down for two weeks and the boy is super head down, burrowed into my pelvis, back in pole position ready to get out first when the time comes.
The peri-nate gave me a goal of staying pregnant until 34 weeks. Once most twin pregnancies hit 34 weeks, the babies usually do well. They're still preemies but they do much better. He didn't promise no time in the NICU so we'll try to go as long as we can to avoid that. Also at 34 weeks the plan is to ease up on some of the activity restrictions.
Next week I see the OB, the peri-nate, and the dietitian. Would prefer it to be my stylist, personal shopper, and masseuse. I'll offer it up.
We got up this morning with the problem unresolved and no matter how I tried to frame the situation in a consistent, logical way my mom could only picture the 16 year old idiot me trying to borrow the car so I could crash it into a tree for fun. (I never did that but my mom often had that face when I wanted to borrow the car). My appointment was at 12:45, right during Mr. Cubby's sacred nap time. Why on earth would I want my very congested baby to skip his nap so my mom could drive me to the doctor? That's like agreeing to accept two minutes of peace now and a thousand minutes of crying later. Not worth it.
Finally, I get a bright idea and call my OB's office. Normally I would never call my doctor to settle a disagreement; I'd just talk my way into (or out of) doing what I want. But 16 year old me is much less credible than 35 year old me so I knew I didn't have a chance of swaying my mom's opinion of the situation.
The catch with the doctor is she's not in the office on Thursdays. I know this and I psych myself up to beg for professional help. I sit on hold for literally 10 minutes waiting. Then the receptionist gets on and I explain in my stressed-out voice (because I was) that I need someone to look at my file and tell me whether or not I've been restricted from driving. Amazingly she transfers me right away to the nurse practitioner. The brilliant NP tells me that my file says nothing about driving restrictions (which I already know) and that if I promise to drive only to my appointment and then back home - not doing any shopping in between - then it's OK.
Hooray.
My mom accepts this and turns over the keys. As soon as I walk into the garage ALONE at last, I yell, "See ya later, sucker. I'm never coming back." My mom peers out of the kitchen door, smiling. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asks in her smart-mom voice. (I have one of those too so I knew that I had indeed forgotten something). She still had my credit card. D'oh! My new-found freedom (and a pit stop at the Cheesecake Factory) vanished ... but only temporarily because I needed the credit card to pay the doctor. She was very nice to retrieve it for me and I was sufficiently humbled that I didn't taunt her again.
My date with the perinatologist (high risk doc) went very VERY well all things considered. My only beef with him was that he said my blood sugar levels looked "fine." I thought they looked GRRRRRREAT and I was hoping he'd do his Tony the Tiger impersonation to express his wonder and awe at the magnificent way I was managing my blood sugar through diet alone but he didn't.
My biggest thrill - outside of confirming that we are still having a boy and a girl - came when the doc told me that I could take a 10 minute walk a day. (Great way to start training for the Army 10 miler, right?) I was beside myself with happiness. Honestly. He cautioned that I should stop if I started having regular contractions (duh) and that I needed to be careful since I was walking a fine line between trying to prevent premature labor and control the GD. He was very reassuring about the pregnancy overall and even told me that since I had gone to 38 weeks with Mr. Cubby that I shouldn't have any problems going the distance this time. It's refreshing to hear that after all the warnings and cautions of my OB.
These guys are also optimistic about the babies being born "the regular way" as opposed to a c-section. The girl has been head down for two weeks and the boy is super head down, burrowed into my pelvis, back in pole position ready to get out first when the time comes.
The peri-nate gave me a goal of staying pregnant until 34 weeks. Once most twin pregnancies hit 34 weeks, the babies usually do well. They're still preemies but they do much better. He didn't promise no time in the NICU so we'll try to go as long as we can to avoid that. Also at 34 weeks the plan is to ease up on some of the activity restrictions.
Next week I see the OB, the peri-nate, and the dietitian. Would prefer it to be my stylist, personal shopper, and masseuse. I'll offer it up.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Not dealing well with stupid diabetes
I've renamed gestational diabetes, "stupid diabetes" - because it's the stupidest thing ever in so many ways.
I had the "blah blah blah" 2 hour diabetes seminar yesterday with two other unfortunate women. The diabetes ladies who run the clinic were very nice and it's not their fault that the clinic was stupid. It goes without saying that stupid diabetes would have a stupid clinic.
So I'm supposed to have blood glucose levels under 120 two hours after a meal. Normal people are allowed to have levels at 140. Last night I did my second finger prick test and I was so excited because I was sure I had done a really good job controlling my sugar/ carb intake. My blood sugar was at 119 - which did not make me a happy camper. That's just one measly point away from the "red flag" number. If I go above 120 two times, I have to call my doctor. Last night I was in tears thinking that I'd be put on insulin shots today. I just KNEW it was all going to go very bad, very quickly.
Until I got up this morning with a subversive plan.
I tested after getting out of bed. I was at 91. Not great but not horrid. My limit for morning (fasting) blood sugar levels is 95. After breakfast my mom left the house with Mr Cubby. (I can only write this because I know my mom and husband do not read my blog and therefore will not find out - Right friends?!!!) I pulled out the vacuum cleaner, replaced the broken belt, and vacuumed for 5 minutes tops. There was uncooked rice on the playroom floor (don't ask why) and it had been there for three days. My lovely burgundy and black dining room rug had become a shag, russet colored rug of pet hair. So I just cleaned up a bit. JUST A BIT, people. And guess what? My blood test 2 hours after breakfast was 89.
Just as I had suspected.
So here is the circular problem. Bed rest can lead to GD. It obviously did for me since my vacuum exercise test was very scientific. Both activity and GD can lead to pre-term birth. But activity can remedy GD where diet alone often fails. So the question is, just how much more dangerous would a 10 minute walk be to the babies as opposed to sky-rocketing blood sugar levels? Myself, I prefer the 10 minute walk to insulin shots. I promise that I will talk to my doctors about this tomorrow - please don't assume I'm going to continue to sneak around and exercise without permission. My activity scheme does seem to be effective - even if it's just 5 minutes of walking around. Tonight I walked several hundred feet to the stop sign by our house and back and got a reading of 113.
On a fun note, I was super depressed about having GD last night and John promised me lots of presents if I hang in there and a) don't have the babies early and b) keep up with my diet and blood testing. So it's not all bad. :)
I had the "blah blah blah" 2 hour diabetes seminar yesterday with two other unfortunate women. The diabetes ladies who run the clinic were very nice and it's not their fault that the clinic was stupid. It goes without saying that stupid diabetes would have a stupid clinic.
So I'm supposed to have blood glucose levels under 120 two hours after a meal. Normal people are allowed to have levels at 140. Last night I did my second finger prick test and I was so excited because I was sure I had done a really good job controlling my sugar/ carb intake. My blood sugar was at 119 - which did not make me a happy camper. That's just one measly point away from the "red flag" number. If I go above 120 two times, I have to call my doctor. Last night I was in tears thinking that I'd be put on insulin shots today. I just KNEW it was all going to go very bad, very quickly.
Until I got up this morning with a subversive plan.
I tested after getting out of bed. I was at 91. Not great but not horrid. My limit for morning (fasting) blood sugar levels is 95. After breakfast my mom left the house with Mr Cubby. (I can only write this because I know my mom and husband do not read my blog and therefore will not find out - Right friends?!!!) I pulled out the vacuum cleaner, replaced the broken belt, and vacuumed for 5 minutes tops. There was uncooked rice on the playroom floor (don't ask why) and it had been there for three days. My lovely burgundy and black dining room rug had become a shag, russet colored rug of pet hair. So I just cleaned up a bit. JUST A BIT, people. And guess what? My blood test 2 hours after breakfast was 89.
Just as I had suspected.
So here is the circular problem. Bed rest can lead to GD. It obviously did for me since my vacuum exercise test was very scientific. Both activity and GD can lead to pre-term birth. But activity can remedy GD where diet alone often fails. So the question is, just how much more dangerous would a 10 minute walk be to the babies as opposed to sky-rocketing blood sugar levels? Myself, I prefer the 10 minute walk to insulin shots. I promise that I will talk to my doctors about this tomorrow - please don't assume I'm going to continue to sneak around and exercise without permission. My activity scheme does seem to be effective - even if it's just 5 minutes of walking around. Tonight I walked several hundred feet to the stop sign by our house and back and got a reading of 113.
On a fun note, I was super depressed about having GD last night and John promised me lots of presents if I hang in there and a) don't have the babies early and b) keep up with my diet and blood testing. So it's not all bad. :)
Sunday, April 6, 2008
31 Weeks
Here's a shout out to all my girlfriends for throwing me a great baby shower yesterday. I know I've got great friends because I don't know many women who have friends willing to throw three baby showers - for the same person - ME - within four years of each other. Admittedly, we all share an affection for parties and shower food, which doesn't hurt. I promised to be back in a year or two pregnant with triplets so another shower could be justified.
The balloons were a big hit with Mr. Cubby. My favorite advice came from Rachel, who had GD during her first pregnancy. "You don't have your metre yet? (She swears she's British so she probably spells 'meter' that way - though without the accent, one has to wonder). Girlfriend, eat what ever you want." You know that's just what I wanted to hear since I've spent the last week nearly starving to death (OK, maybe that's a slight exaggeration) trying not to eat too many carbs. I mean, honestly, there is only so much beef jerky a girl can eat before she crumbles and turns to the Cheerios for a little carb relief.
I'd single Heather out for all her awesome cooking and partying throwing but she doesn't read this so poo to you, Heather. But I will give a shout out to my friend, Irene, who donated her life savings to the gift card fund. Holly, who co-hosted the shower doesn't read this either so poo to you, Holly. And Rachel, who was already singled out once, great party, thanks for being the motivating co-host behind the festivities.
Baby update: they haven't been born yet and are kicking HARD so all is still well.
Pregnancy update: I've been having a lot of cramping on and off in my lower abdomen, especially after an active day (of getting up from the couch a lot to stop Mr. Cubby from pulling lamps off tables and the like). The cramping is indeed a sign of pre-term labor (or labour if you're Rachel) so I haven't told anyone about it since I'd probably get super glued to my bed. I'm already too depressed over not being able to go out shopping; I couldn't handle being confined to bed all day. I'm a busy girl.
The balloons were a big hit with Mr. Cubby. My favorite advice came from Rachel, who had GD during her first pregnancy. "You don't have your metre yet? (She swears she's British so she probably spells 'meter' that way - though without the accent, one has to wonder). Girlfriend, eat what ever you want." You know that's just what I wanted to hear since I've spent the last week nearly starving to death (OK, maybe that's a slight exaggeration) trying not to eat too many carbs. I mean, honestly, there is only so much beef jerky a girl can eat before she crumbles and turns to the Cheerios for a little carb relief.
I'd single Heather out for all her awesome cooking and partying throwing but she doesn't read this so poo to you, Heather. But I will give a shout out to my friend, Irene, who donated her life savings to the gift card fund. Holly, who co-hosted the shower doesn't read this either so poo to you, Holly. And Rachel, who was already singled out once, great party, thanks for being the motivating co-host behind the festivities.
Baby update: they haven't been born yet and are kicking HARD so all is still well.
Pregnancy update: I've been having a lot of cramping on and off in my lower abdomen, especially after an active day (of getting up from the couch a lot to stop Mr. Cubby from pulling lamps off tables and the like). The cramping is indeed a sign of pre-term labor (or labour if you're Rachel) so I haven't told anyone about it since I'd probably get super glued to my bed. I'm already too depressed over not being able to go out shopping; I couldn't handle being confined to bed all day. I'm a busy girl.
Monday, March 31, 2008
30 Weeks
The babies are doing great. Their heartrates are in the 150's. Both were active during the OB appointment today. I gained 2lbs in 2 weeks (which is amazing given what the babies weigh). My blood pressure was a little high today but I think that's probably because the dr. was running late, therefore I was running late and I was going to be late to pick up Will from his friend's house. (Also maybe the extremely stressfull drive across country with my mom and two sons that ended mercifully on Sunday night at 8:23pm drove my BP up a bit). The dr. didn't seem all that concerned since the pee test was fine.
So. I failed my gestational diabetes (gd) test. I spent three hours at the doctor, both arms are bruised from the needles (I look like a junkie), and after the blood test was over I got a call that didn't sound so bad at the time. The nurse told me that I had done great for the first two hours (hooray) but that I failed the last hour (boo). Only by a little bit she said. But it turns out you can fail by a little bit or a lot and you still have to get a finger pricker glucose moniter and special diet involving tofu, chicken breasts and all the waffles I can eat... right?
On the positive side, the babies measured 4.6lbs (boy) and 3.10lbs (girl). Go team. HUGE babies. That's 8 lbs of baby and I'm only 30 weeks pregnant. Is that crazy or what? I know that GD can contribute to big babies but these two have been growing so well since the beginning that I'd like to think they're big on their own merit and not from the four doughnuts I ate the other day.
Now I get why the doctor wants me on bed rest. Oh yeah, bed rest. Mr. Cubby was born 2 weeks early, once he was 7.15lbs so I've got more baby in me now than ever before. She tells me that the increasing pressure on my cervix and the additional stretching of my uterus can trigger labor by itself. Walking around, climbing stairs, doing laundry, cooking, even sitting can add to the risk of premature labor.
So here I sit in the recliner in the family room. I get up to use the bathroom, get water (if I'm home alone), go to doctor's appointments (which are multiplying at an alarming rate), and go upstairs to go to bed. I'm allowed to go up and down the stairs twice a day. There is some dispute about this in the home. My mom thinks the doctor said I could only make one trip up and down. But she also thought I ordered French dressing (gross) for my salad today. I ordered ranch.
So. I failed my gestational diabetes (gd) test. I spent three hours at the doctor, both arms are bruised from the needles (I look like a junkie), and after the blood test was over I got a call that didn't sound so bad at the time. The nurse told me that I had done great for the first two hours (hooray) but that I failed the last hour (boo). Only by a little bit she said. But it turns out you can fail by a little bit or a lot and you still have to get a finger pricker glucose moniter and special diet involving tofu, chicken breasts and all the waffles I can eat... right?
On the positive side, the babies measured 4.6lbs (boy) and 3.10lbs (girl). Go team. HUGE babies. That's 8 lbs of baby and I'm only 30 weeks pregnant. Is that crazy or what? I know that GD can contribute to big babies but these two have been growing so well since the beginning that I'd like to think they're big on their own merit and not from the four doughnuts I ate the other day.
Now I get why the doctor wants me on bed rest. Oh yeah, bed rest. Mr. Cubby was born 2 weeks early, once he was 7.15lbs so I've got more baby in me now than ever before. She tells me that the increasing pressure on my cervix and the additional stretching of my uterus can trigger labor by itself. Walking around, climbing stairs, doing laundry, cooking, even sitting can add to the risk of premature labor.
So here I sit in the recliner in the family room. I get up to use the bathroom, get water (if I'm home alone), go to doctor's appointments (which are multiplying at an alarming rate), and go upstairs to go to bed. I'm allowed to go up and down the stairs twice a day. There is some dispute about this in the home. My mom thinks the doctor said I could only make one trip up and down. But she also thought I ordered French dressing (gross) for my salad today. I ordered ranch.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
29 Weeks
My c-section is scheduled for May 22, the Feast of St. Rita at precisely 11:30 am. It's weird to have a date for the birth and not ideal since I was hoping to forgo all surgical intervention this time around but c-sections to have an upside - which I'll get to in another blog, at another time because I've got bigger, sweeter fish to fry right now.
Last Wednesday, the OB gave me a pop blood sugar quiz. It was totally unfair and I felt completely ambushed because aren't you supposed to have some kind of warning about not eating Pop Tarts and huge bowls of oatmeal before hand? I think so. Anyway - of course I failed. I don't fail tests, especially not gestational diabetes tests. And I know it was because I ate loads of Gummy Sweet Tarts (TM) the night before and the above mentioned items for breakfast.
They didn't tell me what my level was so I wasn't sure how serious the situation is. I tend to get paranoid about health things anyway so I jumped to the worst possible conclusion - that I have to subsist on grilled chicken, water, and tofu for the next 8 1/2 weeks. How totally gross would that be? I know, right.
Thankfully my dad is diabetic. Not that I'm thankful that he's suffering. I'm thankful that he has all the finger pricking stuff and the testing strips and a neat little blood sugar reading computer.
Total aside, I'm visiting my parents for the week and I have the kids with me because it's Will's Easter break this week. Since my bed rest status has been upgraded (downgraded) I've been ordered to stay in bed as much as possible and if I'm caught out of bed doing such forbidden tasks as shopping, laundry, picking up children over 5 lbs, or arguing with my first grade son "The Lawyer" I'll be made to feel incredibly guilty and perhaps even brow-beaten by husband and doctor. (It's a total conspiracy).
Back to the blood sugar. So I'm visiting my parents. I pepper my dad with questions about diabetes for hours after we arrive at my parent's house. Understandably, he gets tired of this after a while and offers to put an end to my worry by giving me a blood test in the morning. My dad is the coolest because not only is he a deacon who can Baptize my babies but he can also test blood. The next morning I get up and he's waiting with his finger pricker. I almost didn't let him do it, chicken that I am. But then I remembered all the shots and blood tests I've had over the last year and figured that if this is something he does several times a day, it can't be that bad.
And it wasn't.
I hardly felt it.
My blood sugar that morning was 98. It's not great. But it's also not crazy high. I guess the range of normal is between 70-110... or something like that. So it's normal. We'll see how the 3 hour test goes next week.
Another total aside, my mom totally suckered me into coming to visit with promises of lots of help and time in bed but so far I'm up and about nearly as much as I am at home. The biggest difference being that the kids are into more things and complaining of boredom. Well, only Will is bored. But he has a perpetually bad attitude and complains about nearly everything so this is to be expected. Mr. Cubby is in heaven playing with his baby cousin.
Last Wednesday, the OB gave me a pop blood sugar quiz. It was totally unfair and I felt completely ambushed because aren't you supposed to have some kind of warning about not eating Pop Tarts and huge bowls of oatmeal before hand? I think so. Anyway - of course I failed. I don't fail tests, especially not gestational diabetes tests. And I know it was because I ate loads of Gummy Sweet Tarts (TM) the night before and the above mentioned items for breakfast.
They didn't tell me what my level was so I wasn't sure how serious the situation is. I tend to get paranoid about health things anyway so I jumped to the worst possible conclusion - that I have to subsist on grilled chicken, water, and tofu for the next 8 1/2 weeks. How totally gross would that be? I know, right.
Thankfully my dad is diabetic. Not that I'm thankful that he's suffering. I'm thankful that he has all the finger pricking stuff and the testing strips and a neat little blood sugar reading computer.
Total aside, I'm visiting my parents for the week and I have the kids with me because it's Will's Easter break this week. Since my bed rest status has been upgraded (downgraded) I've been ordered to stay in bed as much as possible and if I'm caught out of bed doing such forbidden tasks as shopping, laundry, picking up children over 5 lbs, or arguing with my first grade son "The Lawyer" I'll be made to feel incredibly guilty and perhaps even brow-beaten by husband and doctor. (It's a total conspiracy).
Back to the blood sugar. So I'm visiting my parents. I pepper my dad with questions about diabetes for hours after we arrive at my parent's house. Understandably, he gets tired of this after a while and offers to put an end to my worry by giving me a blood test in the morning. My dad is the coolest because not only is he a deacon who can Baptize my babies but he can also test blood. The next morning I get up and he's waiting with his finger pricker. I almost didn't let him do it, chicken that I am. But then I remembered all the shots and blood tests I've had over the last year and figured that if this is something he does several times a day, it can't be that bad.
And it wasn't.
I hardly felt it.
My blood sugar that morning was 98. It's not great. But it's also not crazy high. I guess the range of normal is between 70-110... or something like that. So it's normal. We'll see how the 3 hour test goes next week.
Another total aside, my mom totally suckered me into coming to visit with promises of lots of help and time in bed but so far I'm up and about nearly as much as I am at home. The biggest difference being that the kids are into more things and complaining of boredom. Well, only Will is bored. But he has a perpetually bad attitude and complains about nearly everything so this is to be expected. Mr. Cubby is in heaven playing with his baby cousin.
Monday, March 17, 2008
28 Weeks
I'm eating Easter candy. (It's not Easter yet, shhhhh). They're gummy Sweet Tarts -quite excellent. I give them a sweet tart thumbs up. I love gummy sweet tarts. Just can't get enough.
So getting right to the important stuff. The babies were getting along fine at my last two dr. appts. The last check was three or so weeks ago. The boy is two weeks ahead of the girl again, weighing in at 2lbs 10oz. The girl is 2lbs 3oz.
I go in for my next twin scan/ measurements during the first week of April.
I have not been blogging as much as of late for several reasons. 1. Too busy. 2. Fingers and wrists swollen in carpel tunnel-like manner. 3. Babies enjoy pushing into my ribs and it's incredibly uncomfortable while sitting in an office chair. 4. Lack of energy is astounding and naps take precedence over all else.
My belly size has officially surpassed (as of 27 weeks) my first pregnancy belly size at 38 weeks (right before I went into labor w/ Mr. Cubby). As have my thighs. My contractions are back as of my last dr. appointment. I'm pretty sure she put some kind of magic voodoo spell on me because I had almost no contractions and boundless energy for three weeks before I went in to see her and then BAM - the day I go in to see her, (and John rats me out for doing too much) I starting having contractions again.
And let me just say, they're not very nice contractions. They're uncomfortable and kinda hurt. Whatever - I'm totally not complaining - just commenting - and speak of the devil, I'm having one right now. I always feel the contraction pressure a lot harder on my right side. That's the side where the boy is. I should wrap this up... since my fingers are also swelling to the size of pickles.
In other news, our vicious dog has Lyme disease. If I had taken him to the vet today, I would have had him put down. Fortunately for the dog my compassionate husband took him. John called me today from the vet to give me the news and I said, "I don't give a crap that the dog has Lyme disease" just at the vet was walking into the room - and oops, he didn't tell me I was on speaker phone. I'm so not a "dog is a part of the family" person. In my defense, at the time I didn't realize that Lyme disease can cause kidney failure in dogs - so now I'm all about treating it - if for no other reason than to keep my rugs smelling like dog fur rather than dog pee.
Our oldest/ eldest son, also not so lucky - strep - AGAIN. Both dog and boy are on antibiotics. I feel like supermom with this strep diagnosis because it totally came out of the blue. Will came to dinner looking a bit tired and his face was flushed. That's all it was. But supermom instinct kicked in and I felt his head with the therMOMeter hand. It felt feverish, yes it did.
Our first attempt to check his temperature with an actual thermometer ended with a reading of 107.2 - say what! The battery was dying. I found the second thermometer and got a more reasonable reading of 100.9. Then using my power of super observation I detected that his voice was more Kermit-like than usual, indicating swelling. I asked if his throat was sore and at first he said no - but then after swallowing a few times a realization came over his face and he said, yes indeed his throat was sore. Faster than you can say "Jesus is not a mongoose" John was on the phone with our favorite doctor, got an appointment for "right now" and ta-da, treatment was started last night thus insuring that Will would be back in school in 24 hours missing only one day rather than two.
This final story also involves Will. Seems he's started sleep walking. The first incident was timed in the most unfortunate way. I was watching The Ghost Whisperer. I thought it would be stupid but it turned out to be scary and I can't stop myself from watching it. So I'm watching what was probably the most frightening episode - there's a crazy preacher with red eyes - and right when the music was getting creepy I hear the gate at the top of the stairs rattling. I'm home alone, mind you. John is out walking the dog. The kids have been in bed for at least an hour. I jump off the couch and make my way toward the noise - creepy music still building in the background. It's dark in the foyer. I call out. There's no answer. Oh my gosh. I'm totally sure it's a ghost coming to kill me. Then I flip on the light in the foyer and look upstairs. And there, at the top, trying to open the gate is Will. He looks a little spacey.
I call to him and he slowly raises his head and looks at me. No joke. It was so scary. I start up the stairs and ask him questions, Are you OK? (Yes) Did you have a bad dream? (No) Do you need some water? (No) Do you have to go to the bathroom? (No) etc. He's only giving me yes/ no answers and he's got this odd, far-off look in his eyes. Think of any possessed/ ghost child from any horror movie. Finally I say, "It sounds like it's time for you to go back to bed." He tilts his head to the left and says, "Yes," and goes back to bed. He was asleep as soon as he got in bed.
When John got home I told him what had happened. About six days later it happened again. This time John intercepted him, questioned him and found out that Will was up "Looking for someone to play with." This whole sleepwalking thing is really freaky.
So getting right to the important stuff. The babies were getting along fine at my last two dr. appts. The last check was three or so weeks ago. The boy is two weeks ahead of the girl again, weighing in at 2lbs 10oz. The girl is 2lbs 3oz.
I go in for my next twin scan/ measurements during the first week of April.
I have not been blogging as much as of late for several reasons. 1. Too busy. 2. Fingers and wrists swollen in carpel tunnel-like manner. 3. Babies enjoy pushing into my ribs and it's incredibly uncomfortable while sitting in an office chair. 4. Lack of energy is astounding and naps take precedence over all else.
My belly size has officially surpassed (as of 27 weeks) my first pregnancy belly size at 38 weeks (right before I went into labor w/ Mr. Cubby). As have my thighs. My contractions are back as of my last dr. appointment. I'm pretty sure she put some kind of magic voodoo spell on me because I had almost no contractions and boundless energy for three weeks before I went in to see her and then BAM - the day I go in to see her, (and John rats me out for doing too much) I starting having contractions again.
And let me just say, they're not very nice contractions. They're uncomfortable and kinda hurt. Whatever - I'm totally not complaining - just commenting - and speak of the devil, I'm having one right now. I always feel the contraction pressure a lot harder on my right side. That's the side where the boy is. I should wrap this up... since my fingers are also swelling to the size of pickles.
In other news, our vicious dog has Lyme disease. If I had taken him to the vet today, I would have had him put down. Fortunately for the dog my compassionate husband took him. John called me today from the vet to give me the news and I said, "I don't give a crap that the dog has Lyme disease" just at the vet was walking into the room - and oops, he didn't tell me I was on speaker phone. I'm so not a "dog is a part of the family" person. In my defense, at the time I didn't realize that Lyme disease can cause kidney failure in dogs - so now I'm all about treating it - if for no other reason than to keep my rugs smelling like dog fur rather than dog pee.
Our oldest/ eldest son, also not so lucky - strep - AGAIN. Both dog and boy are on antibiotics. I feel like supermom with this strep diagnosis because it totally came out of the blue. Will came to dinner looking a bit tired and his face was flushed. That's all it was. But supermom instinct kicked in and I felt his head with the therMOMeter hand. It felt feverish, yes it did.
Our first attempt to check his temperature with an actual thermometer ended with a reading of 107.2 - say what! The battery was dying. I found the second thermometer and got a more reasonable reading of 100.9. Then using my power of super observation I detected that his voice was more Kermit-like than usual, indicating swelling. I asked if his throat was sore and at first he said no - but then after swallowing a few times a realization came over his face and he said, yes indeed his throat was sore. Faster than you can say "Jesus is not a mongoose" John was on the phone with our favorite doctor, got an appointment for "right now" and ta-da, treatment was started last night thus insuring that Will would be back in school in 24 hours missing only one day rather than two.
This final story also involves Will. Seems he's started sleep walking. The first incident was timed in the most unfortunate way. I was watching The Ghost Whisperer. I thought it would be stupid but it turned out to be scary and I can't stop myself from watching it. So I'm watching what was probably the most frightening episode - there's a crazy preacher with red eyes - and right when the music was getting creepy I hear the gate at the top of the stairs rattling. I'm home alone, mind you. John is out walking the dog. The kids have been in bed for at least an hour. I jump off the couch and make my way toward the noise - creepy music still building in the background. It's dark in the foyer. I call out. There's no answer. Oh my gosh. I'm totally sure it's a ghost coming to kill me. Then I flip on the light in the foyer and look upstairs. And there, at the top, trying to open the gate is Will. He looks a little spacey.
I call to him and he slowly raises his head and looks at me. No joke. It was so scary. I start up the stairs and ask him questions, Are you OK? (Yes) Did you have a bad dream? (No) Do you need some water? (No) Do you have to go to the bathroom? (No) etc. He's only giving me yes/ no answers and he's got this odd, far-off look in his eyes. Think of any possessed/ ghost child from any horror movie. Finally I say, "It sounds like it's time for you to go back to bed." He tilts his head to the left and says, "Yes," and goes back to bed. He was asleep as soon as he got in bed.
When John got home I told him what had happened. About six days later it happened again. This time John intercepted him, questioned him and found out that Will was up "Looking for someone to play with." This whole sleepwalking thing is really freaky.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Flu Shot
I got one today. Very controversial in our house. After searching high and low for a mercury-free dose for MONTHS and finding none, my kid's pediatrician's nurse offered me the one and only single dose they had in their shot fridge. I've NEVER been an advocate of flu shots until this year when I learned about the real flu (influenza) vs what I always thought was the flu (24 hr viruses, stomach bugs, etc.)
Plus, everywhere I go, someone has the flu. It's like walking through a mine field. I'm so paranoid. I'm ditching friends, family, trips to the library, store, everything because I'm scared of getting it. It got worse today when I heard the radio report about how the flu is wide-spread in VA partially because the flu shot is offering only partial protection this year. It seems they had a bad guess with which virus strains would be trendy this year and misfired on two of three. Still, I think it's better for me to get the shot than not.
John wasn't happy. I've turned him into a vaccine hater and when he heard I had gotten a shot today I could hear the concern in his voice. Bottom line, we have strong suspicions that autism is linked to vaccines - probably the mercury used in them - but it could be something else. No one knows any hard facts about the causes of autism - or so it seems to us - so we don't want to take any unnecessary risks w/ our sweet little twins. I think it will all be OK. As John says, everything always works out.
On a different note, Mr. Cubby fell down several stairs today while coloring with purple crayon in the stairwell. He was unhurt but did manage to color purple around his right eye and mouth. It is the first (and will be the only) such incident of the crayon variety. We keep them under lock and key but somehow a purple managed to escape notice this morning. Unfortunately, Mr. Cubby likes to walk "like a big boy" down the stairs which means - he falls. We go over butt scooting and backwards sliding down the stairs but he always returns to his favorite way - standing up, leaning forward, modified dive. Totally dangerous.
Wall eraser cleaners work like a charm for removing crayon, fyi.
Plus, everywhere I go, someone has the flu. It's like walking through a mine field. I'm so paranoid. I'm ditching friends, family, trips to the library, store, everything because I'm scared of getting it. It got worse today when I heard the radio report about how the flu is wide-spread in VA partially because the flu shot is offering only partial protection this year. It seems they had a bad guess with which virus strains would be trendy this year and misfired on two of three. Still, I think it's better for me to get the shot than not.
John wasn't happy. I've turned him into a vaccine hater and when he heard I had gotten a shot today I could hear the concern in his voice. Bottom line, we have strong suspicions that autism is linked to vaccines - probably the mercury used in them - but it could be something else. No one knows any hard facts about the causes of autism - or so it seems to us - so we don't want to take any unnecessary risks w/ our sweet little twins. I think it will all be OK. As John says, everything always works out.
On a different note, Mr. Cubby fell down several stairs today while coloring with purple crayon in the stairwell. He was unhurt but did manage to color purple around his right eye and mouth. It is the first (and will be the only) such incident of the crayon variety. We keep them under lock and key but somehow a purple managed to escape notice this morning. Unfortunately, Mr. Cubby likes to walk "like a big boy" down the stairs which means - he falls. We go over butt scooting and backwards sliding down the stairs but he always returns to his favorite way - standing up, leaning forward, modified dive. Totally dangerous.
Wall eraser cleaners work like a charm for removing crayon, fyi.
Monday, February 18, 2008
24 Weeks
Oh my gosh what a difference a week makes. Last week was my best week yet in this pregnancy. I actually felt pretty NORMAL, aside from not being able to sit up without rolling over. Hello beached whale getting out of bed. I swear my life is looking more and more like a trailer for Shallow Hal. I sit on the bed, the other side pops up. I order a meal, plus a milk shake, plus another meal, plus dessert. I could go on but I won't.
Time for true confessions. My latest phobia is shopping for underwear. (Boys can skip this part). My ta-tas began to bother me about the lack of support I'm giving them. I know, right, who has time to support the ta-tas with all the other crap going on in life. Also the undies, which, by the way, fit me JUST FINE all through my last pregnancy, were cutting off circulation and making me fear for the well being of my babies and my legs.
I went to Target. Normally, I love Target - though the one I usually go to is never stocked with absolutely everything I need so I always have to make several trips a week to see if they've restocked - and buy more stuff - like minute rice, Swiffers, and wire whisks. So anyway, I shopped for AN HOUR trying to find a bra that fit. I didn't care about liking it. I just wanted it to fit. The one I finally bought - doesn't fit. It's too big. Hey, a girl can dream. I'll grow into it, right?
And the underwear (don't ever call them panties in front of me) oh good grief, what an emotional roller coaster that was. First I'm confronted with style choices - hipsters, bikini, briefs, boy shorts, high waist, low waist. Also fabric choice, which isn't hard - 100% cotton only, please. Color choices - someone needs to send a memo to Haines, et. all and tell them that nude is the new white. Why are there packs and packs of white only underwear? I admit to buying them in the past but only out of desperation (and because they were cheap).
And the worst choice of all - size. What a problem size was. You see, I measured my hips before leaving the house. As all girls know, undie size has NOTHING to do with real measurement - just like most girl clothing. So I couldn't tell just by measuring if my girth had increased one or two or even (gasp) three sizes. The undie companies have handy-dandy size conversion charts on the back of their package, which I consulted because I was hopelessly lost. So, get this, every single style had the same and singular measurement on it - the hip measurement. That means, I guess, that if very pregnant me buys a pair of high-waist grannies - they should fit according to my hip size. That's ridiculous. They're not going to fit. My belly size is so out of whack with my hip size that it's not even funny. Ok, so I'll cut them some slack because that was an irrational expectation. But, what did irk me was that both the high and low waisted hipster/ bikinis had the SAME sizing measurement conversion chart. This is a problem because high and low hip measurements are DIFFERENT in most women, at least it is in the ones who aren't shaped like little boys. So I knew I couldn't trust the back of the package. That left me with little else to do than to stand at the wall of underwear for roughly twenty minutes trying to search out a size I wasn't sure of in a color and style that they don't stock in that size. I had three contractions standing there. The stress was awful. I finally settled on a "variety" pack that included a disgustingly ugly pair of lime green undies - no nude, no black, nothing remotely neutral. But hey, at least my legs aren't gangrenous, right?
My latest health complaint is nose bleeds. Gross, right? I know. So nasty. I get them three or four times A DAY. I think I have pregnancy hemophilia. I got one at dinner tonight. My poor family. Thank goodness they're all boys and have a high tolerance of gross things - some even find them interesting/ funny.
Baby wise, things seem to be going well. Lots and lots of kicking. Both have turned away from the outside of my belly (I think) because my organs are taking a beating right now. It's not painful - just weird. The kicks are getting stronger and stronger. The boy has managed to land a few hard somewhat painful kicks just below my rib cage.
Every time we drive past the exit for the hospital on our way to Roy Rogers I feel a pang of excitement now. I'm so looking forward to them being born. Two babies. It's finally starting to sink in.
All in all this week was really fantastic. My energy is back up. I'm having fewer contractions (today was an exception). I sleep less of the day away. I can do more than one thing a day. I do feel puffier. Right now I can tell my fingers are getting puffy, as are my legs.
Oh no! I've gone two whole hours without eating! I should get some jelly beans - not for me - for the babies.
Time for true confessions. My latest phobia is shopping for underwear. (Boys can skip this part). My ta-tas began to bother me about the lack of support I'm giving them. I know, right, who has time to support the ta-tas with all the other crap going on in life. Also the undies, which, by the way, fit me JUST FINE all through my last pregnancy, were cutting off circulation and making me fear for the well being of my babies and my legs.
I went to Target. Normally, I love Target - though the one I usually go to is never stocked with absolutely everything I need so I always have to make several trips a week to see if they've restocked - and buy more stuff - like minute rice, Swiffers, and wire whisks. So anyway, I shopped for AN HOUR trying to find a bra that fit. I didn't care about liking it. I just wanted it to fit. The one I finally bought - doesn't fit. It's too big. Hey, a girl can dream. I'll grow into it, right?
And the underwear (don't ever call them panties in front of me) oh good grief, what an emotional roller coaster that was. First I'm confronted with style choices - hipsters, bikini, briefs, boy shorts, high waist, low waist. Also fabric choice, which isn't hard - 100% cotton only, please. Color choices - someone needs to send a memo to Haines, et. all and tell them that nude is the new white. Why are there packs and packs of white only underwear? I admit to buying them in the past but only out of desperation (and because they were cheap).
And the worst choice of all - size. What a problem size was. You see, I measured my hips before leaving the house. As all girls know, undie size has NOTHING to do with real measurement - just like most girl clothing. So I couldn't tell just by measuring if my girth had increased one or two or even (gasp) three sizes. The undie companies have handy-dandy size conversion charts on the back of their package, which I consulted because I was hopelessly lost. So, get this, every single style had the same and singular measurement on it - the hip measurement. That means, I guess, that if very pregnant me buys a pair of high-waist grannies - they should fit according to my hip size. That's ridiculous. They're not going to fit. My belly size is so out of whack with my hip size that it's not even funny. Ok, so I'll cut them some slack because that was an irrational expectation. But, what did irk me was that both the high and low waisted hipster/ bikinis had the SAME sizing measurement conversion chart. This is a problem because high and low hip measurements are DIFFERENT in most women, at least it is in the ones who aren't shaped like little boys. So I knew I couldn't trust the back of the package. That left me with little else to do than to stand at the wall of underwear for roughly twenty minutes trying to search out a size I wasn't sure of in a color and style that they don't stock in that size. I had three contractions standing there. The stress was awful. I finally settled on a "variety" pack that included a disgustingly ugly pair of lime green undies - no nude, no black, nothing remotely neutral. But hey, at least my legs aren't gangrenous, right?
My latest health complaint is nose bleeds. Gross, right? I know. So nasty. I get them three or four times A DAY. I think I have pregnancy hemophilia. I got one at dinner tonight. My poor family. Thank goodness they're all boys and have a high tolerance of gross things - some even find them interesting/ funny.
Baby wise, things seem to be going well. Lots and lots of kicking. Both have turned away from the outside of my belly (I think) because my organs are taking a beating right now. It's not painful - just weird. The kicks are getting stronger and stronger. The boy has managed to land a few hard somewhat painful kicks just below my rib cage.
Every time we drive past the exit for the hospital on our way to Roy Rogers I feel a pang of excitement now. I'm so looking forward to them being born. Two babies. It's finally starting to sink in.
All in all this week was really fantastic. My energy is back up. I'm having fewer contractions (today was an exception). I sleep less of the day away. I can do more than one thing a day. I do feel puffier. Right now I can tell my fingers are getting puffy, as are my legs.
Oh no! I've gone two whole hours without eating! I should get some jelly beans - not for me - for the babies.
Friday, February 8, 2008
23 weeks
God bless my mother in law. I'm in bed "napping" and she's downstairs with Mr. Cubby. I can hear him careening around the house, bumping into things, chattering away. My mother in law is a saint.
So we've made it to 23 weeks. Sigh of relief. If the babies are born tomorrow - not that there are any signs they will be but I'm just saying if they are - there's a good chance they'll survive. I know, how morbid. You'd think twins would make me all chirpy and excited. Instead, I'm obsessed with whether or not they'll die at birth. I'm sooo wasting this wonderful time, aren't I? I blame my parents, both compulsive worriers.
Baby Girl was kicking and moving around during the sono today. ADORABLE. Baby Boy had hiccups but was sleeping. How he can sleep through being kicked in the head - literally - is beyond me - but it bodes well for my miserly hopes of making them share a crib.
I had a long talk with the doctor today about all my pre-term labor scares. John came with me as my memory. I swear, after my last dr. appt. I could barely remember a thing except that the dr. had said "bedrest" several times. This time, after explaining all my contractions, cramping, tight tummy issues, she said, "Don't worry. It's all normal. You're doing just fine right now." But she said her previous order of restricted activity still stands because the contractions and belly tightness/ pressure are signs that I need to rest.
She also said that I shouldn't worry so much because stress can trigger PTL. Yeah, not the best thing to say to a compulsive worrier because then I worry that I'm worrying too much. No, but really, the appointment set me at ease. And it was good for John to be there so he could hear all this right from the doctor and not his loopy, stressed out wife.
I get to have my glucose test in 1 week. MMMmmmmm. Thinkig about the orange soda stuff made my tummy growl.
Speaking of eating, so far I've put on 22 pounds. It feels like 150. My belly is measuring 26cm now - a 6cm jump from my last dr. appt. three weeks ago. (I know this has nothing to do w/ weight gain but I needed to stick it into the blog somewhere and here seemed logical). I'm on target to gain 24 pounds by 24 weeks. I figure I can put on 2 pounds this week. John swore he'd stuff me full of food so I'd hit my goal. Great guy. "Here honey, have some more ice cream. You're too thin," he says like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. I remind him that my maternity pants are pinching my thighs. I remind him that the ice cream is going to take a long time to melt off my bum but he just smiles and tells me how pretty I am when I'm pregnant. You can't beat that, can you?
In other news, I just read an hysterical blog by another mother of twins. She said she was going to vote for Obama because he has a cute butt. I think I'm going to start evaluating candidates like that too. One of my biggest concerns, the idiocy of the adoption process isn't high on anyone's list so I might as well evaluate by butt.
Ugh. Why isn't spell check working?
So we've made it to 23 weeks. Sigh of relief. If the babies are born tomorrow - not that there are any signs they will be but I'm just saying if they are - there's a good chance they'll survive. I know, how morbid. You'd think twins would make me all chirpy and excited. Instead, I'm obsessed with whether or not they'll die at birth. I'm sooo wasting this wonderful time, aren't I? I blame my parents, both compulsive worriers.
Baby Girl was kicking and moving around during the sono today. ADORABLE. Baby Boy had hiccups but was sleeping. How he can sleep through being kicked in the head - literally - is beyond me - but it bodes well for my miserly hopes of making them share a crib.
I had a long talk with the doctor today about all my pre-term labor scares. John came with me as my memory. I swear, after my last dr. appt. I could barely remember a thing except that the dr. had said "bedrest" several times. This time, after explaining all my contractions, cramping, tight tummy issues, she said, "Don't worry. It's all normal. You're doing just fine right now." But she said her previous order of restricted activity still stands because the contractions and belly tightness/ pressure are signs that I need to rest.
She also said that I shouldn't worry so much because stress can trigger PTL. Yeah, not the best thing to say to a compulsive worrier because then I worry that I'm worrying too much. No, but really, the appointment set me at ease. And it was good for John to be there so he could hear all this right from the doctor and not his loopy, stressed out wife.
I get to have my glucose test in 1 week. MMMmmmmm. Thinkig about the orange soda stuff made my tummy growl.
Speaking of eating, so far I've put on 22 pounds. It feels like 150. My belly is measuring 26cm now - a 6cm jump from my last dr. appt. three weeks ago. (I know this has nothing to do w/ weight gain but I needed to stick it into the blog somewhere and here seemed logical). I'm on target to gain 24 pounds by 24 weeks. I figure I can put on 2 pounds this week. John swore he'd stuff me full of food so I'd hit my goal. Great guy. "Here honey, have some more ice cream. You're too thin," he says like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. I remind him that my maternity pants are pinching my thighs. I remind him that the ice cream is going to take a long time to melt off my bum but he just smiles and tells me how pretty I am when I'm pregnant. You can't beat that, can you?
In other news, I just read an hysterical blog by another mother of twins. She said she was going to vote for Obama because he has a cute butt. I think I'm going to start evaluating candidates like that too. One of my biggest concerns, the idiocy of the adoption process isn't high on anyone's list so I might as well evaluate by butt.
Ugh. Why isn't spell check working?
Monday, February 4, 2008
22+ Weeks
High risk specialist on Friday gave us good news. They redid the Level 2 sono measurements and found that both babies are doing super well. Our girl has closed the size gap to a couple of days. She measured 1lb 1oz and was about 4 days ahead of the average. Our boy is still a week ahead and he was 1lb 3oz. It looks like any concerns about early twin to twin transfusion or placenta problems with the girl have been put to rest.
In other news, I have this great book about multiple births that has been helpful. Much more helpful than the two other books I checked out of the library. This one - I'd get the title if I wasn't too tired to roll across the bed - was written by a doctor who ran a multiple births clinic. (I'm not a doctor so don't follow this advice yourself unless your dr. says to). Helpful medical advice included:
Mothers of twins should drink AT LEAST 128oz of water a day, consume roughly 3800 calories a day, and gain between 20-30 lbs by week 20. Weight gain between 20-28 weeks is especially critical. She actually recommends to many MOM's that they have a milkshake every day to help boost calorie, fat, and calcium intake. How great is that?!?
Also rest is key. Do less. Take naps. Keep stressors at bay. This is especially true after 20 weeks. Women who ignore doctor's advice to take it easy often end up in the hospital with preterm labor or worse, with preterm infants. (Here's me not ignoring the doctor anymore).
Because of the contractions I'm having, I've been checked at every dr. appt. for PTL. So far there haven't been any cervical changes which is great. However, I have noticed that my contractions, though irregular, are getting stronger. Yesterday, before the most amazing Super Bowl upset I've ever seen, I had two strong, scary contractions back to back. The contractions felt REAL. They did not feel like BH contractions. Both took my breath away. I could hardly walk (I was going down stairs when I had the second one) or stand upright. The worst was that I felt that special cramping that is the precursor to the urge to push. I immediately crawled to the couch and put my feet up. John ran in with 16oz of water and a bendy straw. I had one more painless contraction after I got comfortable and then it all stopped. I have had more BH since then, a lot more, but no painful contractions. This evening I noticed that several of my BH were really long - meaning my belly stayed hard for several minutes before slowly relaxing. But it's hard to know if it was a real BH or if it's just two babies pressing up against my belly for a bit.
Pardon my typos. Spell check doesn't seem to be working right now.
In other news, I have this great book about multiple births that has been helpful. Much more helpful than the two other books I checked out of the library. This one - I'd get the title if I wasn't too tired to roll across the bed - was written by a doctor who ran a multiple births clinic. (I'm not a doctor so don't follow this advice yourself unless your dr. says to). Helpful medical advice included:
Mothers of twins should drink AT LEAST 128oz of water a day, consume roughly 3800 calories a day, and gain between 20-30 lbs by week 20. Weight gain between 20-28 weeks is especially critical. She actually recommends to many MOM's that they have a milkshake every day to help boost calorie, fat, and calcium intake. How great is that?!?
Also rest is key. Do less. Take naps. Keep stressors at bay. This is especially true after 20 weeks. Women who ignore doctor's advice to take it easy often end up in the hospital with preterm labor or worse, with preterm infants. (Here's me not ignoring the doctor anymore).
Because of the contractions I'm having, I've been checked at every dr. appt. for PTL. So far there haven't been any cervical changes which is great. However, I have noticed that my contractions, though irregular, are getting stronger. Yesterday, before the most amazing Super Bowl upset I've ever seen, I had two strong, scary contractions back to back. The contractions felt REAL. They did not feel like BH contractions. Both took my breath away. I could hardly walk (I was going down stairs when I had the second one) or stand upright. The worst was that I felt that special cramping that is the precursor to the urge to push. I immediately crawled to the couch and put my feet up. John ran in with 16oz of water and a bendy straw. I had one more painless contraction after I got comfortable and then it all stopped. I have had more BH since then, a lot more, but no painful contractions. This evening I noticed that several of my BH were really long - meaning my belly stayed hard for several minutes before slowly relaxing. But it's hard to know if it was a real BH or if it's just two babies pressing up against my belly for a bit.
Pardon my typos. Spell check doesn't seem to be working right now.
Friday, January 25, 2008
21 Weeks
My parents just left us today after a nearly week-long visit. It was wonderful to have them here to help with the boys. I don't know what I'm going to do without them! Yesterday my in-laws came over for dinner and we had a fabulous flank steak from Let's Dish. (I highly recommend it. It's the Flank Steak with Onions and Balsamic Glaze.) My parents, DH and in-laws secretly discussed my casual attitude toward my "restricted activity" and declared that I needed to be off my feet for double the time and doing half as much. I appreciate their concern and while I admit that I'm probably doing more than my doctor had in mind, I don't think the twins are in danger. I wouldn't take that sort of risk with the lives of my children.
I can't say that I blame them for being concerned. I've developed this exaggerated walk to take pressure off of my pelvis - a rolling waddle. I also wince a lot. I sigh a lot. And I get out of breath easily since the babies are pushing up into my lungs. So I'm sure they took one look at me and concluded that I was about to have the babies last night.
On an unrelated note, we're searching for a stroller option to carry one toddler and two infants. Any suggestions?
I can't say that I blame them for being concerned. I've developed this exaggerated walk to take pressure off of my pelvis - a rolling waddle. I also wince a lot. I sigh a lot. And I get out of breath easily since the babies are pushing up into my lungs. So I'm sure they took one look at me and concluded that I was about to have the babies last night.
On an unrelated note, we're searching for a stroller option to carry one toddler and two infants. Any suggestions?
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
20 and 1/2 Weeks
Doctor is apparently correct about me needing to take it easy and I am apparently stupid for not following her instructions. However, I do not think the doctor was correct in her diagnosis of my skin issue. PUPPS sounds awful. What I have on my skin is not awful - not remotely.
The Braxton Hicks (BH) are another story. Went to the March for Babies today. The stress of getting there with my two kids and my parents was pretty intense. I started having BH at the Supreme Court. They continued until I got to the car and sat down. They started up again once I got out of the car and so my family (husband, mom, and dad) confined me to a recliner in the family room. The BH stopped... until I got up to check my email - and now John is saying that I have to go lay down.
The Braxton Hicks (BH) are another story. Went to the March for Babies today. The stress of getting there with my two kids and my parents was pretty intense. I started having BH at the Supreme Court. They continued until I got to the car and sat down. They started up again once I got out of the car and so my family (husband, mom, and dad) confined me to a recliner in the family room. The BH stopped... until I got up to check my email - and now John is saying that I have to go lay down.
Friday, January 18, 2008
20 Weeks
According to my doctors I'm only 19 weeks, 5 days but they're using "the wheel" and it measures from the first date of your last period - which is not accurate in the least. So by my own calculations, I'm 20 weeks tomorrow and I'm going with my own calculations since I'm a math whiz. :)
Doctor appointment was slightly alarming. Last night I woke up with cramps at 3am. Not regular cramps but felt like I was in labor cramps. Worried but not panicked, I went to the bathroom and then settled back down in bed - because I've read that laying down can help. It helped but I was up for a while trying to determine whether or not each little twinge of pain I felt in my abdomen or back was labor. Sooooo, add the fact that I've been getting Braxton Hicks contractions fairly regularly in the evenings - when I'm running around taking care of both boys, making dinner and trying to keep the house in livable shape - the doctor decided to place me on what she calls "modified, modified, modified bedrest."
Really what she did wasn't a huge surprise and amounts to some activity restriction - not bedrest per se - which apparently most doctors recommend to many M.O.M.s. I'm not allowed to lift anything heavier than 5 pounds. Mr. Cubby will need to lose a bit of weight if he expected to be carried upstairs. I actually am allowed to pick him up but I'm not supposed to do much carrying. And after a busy upright activity - cooking dinner and eating, for example, I need to recline for a while. Not a big change from what I do every night anyway. ;)
She also said that it's possible the discrepancy between the two babies could be caused by a difference in the nourishment they're getting from their placentas and that less activity on my part will help if that is the situation. Since the placentas might be fused the possibility of Twin to Twin Transfusion can't be ruled out - though neither me nor my OB nor the high risk specialist seemed too alarmed about it at this point.
I also appear to have developed PUPPS which stands for "Itchy Red Spots All Over." The itching is only starting to develop and the red spots are concentrated primarily on my belly at this point but the Dr. predicts the itchiness will get worse and will spread.
Everything else is fine. My blood pressure is nice and low. My belly is measuring exactly 20 weeks.
Doctor appointment was slightly alarming. Last night I woke up with cramps at 3am. Not regular cramps but felt like I was in labor cramps. Worried but not panicked, I went to the bathroom and then settled back down in bed - because I've read that laying down can help. It helped but I was up for a while trying to determine whether or not each little twinge of pain I felt in my abdomen or back was labor. Sooooo, add the fact that I've been getting Braxton Hicks contractions fairly regularly in the evenings - when I'm running around taking care of both boys, making dinner and trying to keep the house in livable shape - the doctor decided to place me on what she calls "modified, modified, modified bedrest."
Really what she did wasn't a huge surprise and amounts to some activity restriction - not bedrest per se - which apparently most doctors recommend to many M.O.M.s. I'm not allowed to lift anything heavier than 5 pounds. Mr. Cubby will need to lose a bit of weight if he expected to be carried upstairs. I actually am allowed to pick him up but I'm not supposed to do much carrying. And after a busy upright activity - cooking dinner and eating, for example, I need to recline for a while. Not a big change from what I do every night anyway. ;)
She also said that it's possible the discrepancy between the two babies could be caused by a difference in the nourishment they're getting from their placentas and that less activity on my part will help if that is the situation. Since the placentas might be fused the possibility of Twin to Twin Transfusion can't be ruled out - though neither me nor my OB nor the high risk specialist seemed too alarmed about it at this point.
I also appear to have developed PUPPS which stands for "Itchy Red Spots All Over." The itching is only starting to develop and the red spots are concentrated primarily on my belly at this point but the Dr. predicts the itchiness will get worse and will spread.
Everything else is fine. My blood pressure is nice and low. My belly is measuring exactly 20 weeks.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Nearly 20 Weeks
Yesterday the babies weren't too active until the evening. I was worried. But then they started tumbling around again after their older sibs were in bed. I try to be alert to kicks during the day but it's much easier to feel them when the house is quiet.
Belly watch: I got bigger this last week. I'm not in the small belly club anymore. I'm about the size I was when I was eight months w/ Mr. Cubby. The church mom's I talked to today said that they still weren't sure just by looking that I'm expecting - but I think they were just saying that because most pregnant mom's don't like being told they look pregnant since that can easily be interpreted as meaning they look fat.
Today it's snowing - a lot. I like to make fun of Virginia snow hype because I grew up in the Midwest and snow is not a special event. But today, after driving in the stuff, I concur that the warnings are not hype. The roads are slick and snow-covered. The snow had only been falling for about an hour before I drove home from Mom's Group (Church Mom's not PP Mom's) and it took me two tries to make it up my driveway - it's not a steep incline. That's never happened to be before here in Old Dominion. So I've been calling John every hour and telling him to leave work now.
Will's school dismissed at 1:30. A carpool mom is picking him up and bringing him here. He should be home soon. Mr. Cubby just went down for his nap. I'm going to let Will watch a movie so I can catch a nap too. It's in the Mom's Handbook on page 123, second paragraph - "When pregnant, especially with multiples, feel no guilt about showing movies to your children if you are in need of a nap."
Oh and speaking of TV, I couldn't take it. I'm watching again. I decided that I'll give up TV for Lent. It's not that I was missing good shows - it was just too much effort to find good books to read once I had read through "Growing Up Brady."
Belly watch: I got bigger this last week. I'm not in the small belly club anymore. I'm about the size I was when I was eight months w/ Mr. Cubby. The church mom's I talked to today said that they still weren't sure just by looking that I'm expecting - but I think they were just saying that because most pregnant mom's don't like being told they look pregnant since that can easily be interpreted as meaning they look fat.
Today it's snowing - a lot. I like to make fun of Virginia snow hype because I grew up in the Midwest and snow is not a special event. But today, after driving in the stuff, I concur that the warnings are not hype. The roads are slick and snow-covered. The snow had only been falling for about an hour before I drove home from Mom's Group (Church Mom's not PP Mom's) and it took me two tries to make it up my driveway - it's not a steep incline. That's never happened to be before here in Old Dominion. So I've been calling John every hour and telling him to leave work now.
Will's school dismissed at 1:30. A carpool mom is picking him up and bringing him here. He should be home soon. Mr. Cubby just went down for his nap. I'm going to let Will watch a movie so I can catch a nap too. It's in the Mom's Handbook on page 123, second paragraph - "When pregnant, especially with multiples, feel no guilt about showing movies to your children if you are in need of a nap."
Oh and speaking of TV, I couldn't take it. I'm watching again. I decided that I'll give up TV for Lent. It's not that I was missing good shows - it was just too much effort to find good books to read once I had read through "Growing Up Brady."
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
19 Weeks
We had THE sonogram last Friday. The tech asked if we wanted to know what the genders are and we both shouted "yes!" at the same time. "Well, I'll do the first one for you," she said. "Baby A is presenting and - oop - there you have it - it's a boy." I have to admit that I said a silent prayer then that the other one would be a baby girl. I've heard that there can be a fair amount of fussing around while the tech tries to ascertain girlness on girls since she's usually looking for an absence of something. But there was no fussing here. She found our baby and announced - "It's a girl."
So we're having a boy and a girl. Both babies seem to be in good health. The boy is measuring about 20 weeks and a few days. The girl is measuring right about 18 1/2 weeks.
This sonogram marked our first meeting with the high risk specialist. The doctor we met is one of three in the practice. He was polite and explained generally how we'll be working with them along with my OB. No warm fuzzies at the practice but I get the feeling they know what they're doing.
I was disappointed when he told me that vaginal deliveries are "rare" but since he's probably not going to be delivering me - and since the majority of his patients are ones who develop complications outside of a simple twin pregnancy I didn't sweat it too much.
Right now the babies are in pretty good position. The boy is on my right side "knocking at the door" as John likes to say - head down and ready to go. The girl is behind the boy but to the left. She's farther up and it would be easier for her to flip if either of them did. While I do like the freedom planning a c-section offers, I really don't like the idea of surgery. So for now, I'm planted firmly in the "praying to give birth vaginally" camp.
As I edge closer to my due date - which admittedly is still a long way off - I'm edging closer and closer to insisting the doctor let me try to give birth without an epidural. I know it sounds crazy and it's not that I forgot the pain of birth. Believe me, I have not and will not EVER. How some people can forget it is beyond me. But all I've read leads me to believe it's the best for the babies and it's the best for me. I am open to doing "natural light" like my friend Maura did (having a little epidural.) My biggest concerns are the spinal headache, paralysis (I know it's rare but come on - when someone stabs your spinal column with a needle there's a risk), vomiting and nausea, and an increased risk of needing a c-section.
So there you have it.
In other news, Go Packers. What a nail biter Saturday's game was. Thanks to the Giants who pulled off an unexpected win against the Cowboys on Sunday giving us home field advantage for the NFC Championship. This will be the first NFC championship the Packers have hosted since the 1996 season. They won the Super Bowl that year... against the Patriots.
So we're having a boy and a girl. Both babies seem to be in good health. The boy is measuring about 20 weeks and a few days. The girl is measuring right about 18 1/2 weeks.
This sonogram marked our first meeting with the high risk specialist. The doctor we met is one of three in the practice. He was polite and explained generally how we'll be working with them along with my OB. No warm fuzzies at the practice but I get the feeling they know what they're doing.
I was disappointed when he told me that vaginal deliveries are "rare" but since he's probably not going to be delivering me - and since the majority of his patients are ones who develop complications outside of a simple twin pregnancy I didn't sweat it too much.
Right now the babies are in pretty good position. The boy is on my right side "knocking at the door" as John likes to say - head down and ready to go. The girl is behind the boy but to the left. She's farther up and it would be easier for her to flip if either of them did. While I do like the freedom planning a c-section offers, I really don't like the idea of surgery. So for now, I'm planted firmly in the "praying to give birth vaginally" camp.
As I edge closer to my due date - which admittedly is still a long way off - I'm edging closer and closer to insisting the doctor let me try to give birth without an epidural. I know it sounds crazy and it's not that I forgot the pain of birth. Believe me, I have not and will not EVER. How some people can forget it is beyond me. But all I've read leads me to believe it's the best for the babies and it's the best for me. I am open to doing "natural light" like my friend Maura did (having a little epidural.) My biggest concerns are the spinal headache, paralysis (I know it's rare but come on - when someone stabs your spinal column with a needle there's a risk), vomiting and nausea, and an increased risk of needing a c-section.
So there you have it.
In other news, Go Packers. What a nail biter Saturday's game was. Thanks to the Giants who pulled off an unexpected win against the Cowboys on Sunday giving us home field advantage for the NFC Championship. This will be the first NFC championship the Packers have hosted since the 1996 season. They won the Super Bowl that year... against the Patriots.
Monday, January 7, 2008
18 Weeks
Slowly my belly is showing what the rest of my body has known for eons. I can't pass for pregnant with strangers yet but I'm working on it. John was hoping that I'd be visibly pregnant for his company "holiday" dinner in a few days. Alas, that is not to be.
Carrying "small" is a mixed bag. On the pro side - I hardly have any stretch marks on my belly (I have them by my elbows - go figure). I also fit comfortably in my pregnancy (and even some pre-pregnancy) clothes through out the 9+months. No mu mus necessary. And I didn't have a huge belly in my way when tying my shoes or putting on socks or setting the table. On the con side - lack of sympathy would have to be the worst. People giving me the double take in church when I can't stand for the whole Gospel reading. Me having to talk up the fact that I'm pregnant because I'm afraid John might forget. (Not that he would). I get people who know I'm pregnant and are concerned I'm not eating enough. I get worried that the babies are growing inside my liver rather than my stomach, where they should be. (That was for Heather - even though she doesn't read this).
In other news, John can now feel the babies kicking. That happened over the weekend. It's more fun when John can feel them move. And with two it isn't such a crap shoot - he can usually feel something. With Mr. Cubby it was more challenging early on. He'd kick and move and then kick somewhere else - completely random. Two don't have as much room to move so the kicks are in the same area, more or less.
My nighttime nausea isn't completely gone. I still feel gross when I start getting tired. It's not constant and it's nothing like the debilitating nausea I had four weeks ago.
Speaking of being debilitated - I've stopped watching TV. Right around Christmas I realized that I was spending waaaay too many nights sitting mindlessly on the couch and WISHING that I had gone to bed hours ago. On Jan. 1 I decided no more. Plus, it's all crap now with the Writer's Strike (TM).
Not watching TV has had a positive impact on our family life. I find that I'm making eye contact with my kids more often. Also talking to them more. Also getting more sleep. And reading some very good books - Growing Up Brady by Berry Wililams (aka Greg) - for example. John didn't quit TV per se but since I won't watch it with him he doesn't watch it much anymore - just a few minutes here and there mostly about DECISION 2008 (TM).
I find the news coverage of the Writer's Strike (TM) stupid and silly and boring. The Post was delivered to our house today - probably a mistake, unless they're doing a "free week" - and I read several the Post's articles on the Writer's Strike (TM). The articles made me think that if this strike continued much longer the sun might blow up and life on Earth would cease. It's TV for crying out loud. Do I really have to watch The Office to be happy? No. Don't get me wrong. I love The Office and I'm hoping that it didn't jump the shark when Pam and Jim hooked up - but I don't HAVE TO watch it. In fact, I'm pretty happy so far. There's no 24, no Office, no Bionic Woman, no Battlestar G'smacktica. But I have my life back. (I made an exception for G'smacktica. If and when it comes back on, I will watch it w/ John otherwise our marriage with be in jeopardy).
I say, let the writers strike. Don't we all want to do something more with our lives than watch TV? Except for Packer games. They're in the playoffs for crying out loud.
So back to the topic of motherhood: Earlier today John and I had a tearfully funny moment when Will tried to speak a sentence. Will is very hyper and tends to speak very, very quickly and has difficulty with enunciation. Today, while sliding around the kitchen on his back we heard him say, "Is this a turd that has icy doves ringing in it?" I couldn't stop laughing. I had tears rolling down my face. Obviously that wasn't what he actually said but we both heard, "Is this a turd that has icy doves ringing in it?" He doesn't know the word "turd" by the way. We still don't know what he was talking about but he was very pleased that he had said something that made us laugh so hard.
And on that note - good night.
Carrying "small" is a mixed bag. On the pro side - I hardly have any stretch marks on my belly (I have them by my elbows - go figure). I also fit comfortably in my pregnancy (and even some pre-pregnancy) clothes through out the 9+months. No mu mus necessary. And I didn't have a huge belly in my way when tying my shoes or putting on socks or setting the table. On the con side - lack of sympathy would have to be the worst. People giving me the double take in church when I can't stand for the whole Gospel reading. Me having to talk up the fact that I'm pregnant because I'm afraid John might forget. (Not that he would). I get people who know I'm pregnant and are concerned I'm not eating enough. I get worried that the babies are growing inside my liver rather than my stomach, where they should be. (That was for Heather - even though she doesn't read this).
In other news, John can now feel the babies kicking. That happened over the weekend. It's more fun when John can feel them move. And with two it isn't such a crap shoot - he can usually feel something. With Mr. Cubby it was more challenging early on. He'd kick and move and then kick somewhere else - completely random. Two don't have as much room to move so the kicks are in the same area, more or less.
My nighttime nausea isn't completely gone. I still feel gross when I start getting tired. It's not constant and it's nothing like the debilitating nausea I had four weeks ago.
Speaking of being debilitated - I've stopped watching TV. Right around Christmas I realized that I was spending waaaay too many nights sitting mindlessly on the couch and WISHING that I had gone to bed hours ago. On Jan. 1 I decided no more. Plus, it's all crap now with the Writer's Strike (TM).
Not watching TV has had a positive impact on our family life. I find that I'm making eye contact with my kids more often. Also talking to them more. Also getting more sleep. And reading some very good books - Growing Up Brady by Berry Wililams (aka Greg) - for example. John didn't quit TV per se but since I won't watch it with him he doesn't watch it much anymore - just a few minutes here and there mostly about DECISION 2008 (TM).
I find the news coverage of the Writer's Strike (TM) stupid and silly and boring. The Post was delivered to our house today - probably a mistake, unless they're doing a "free week" - and I read several the Post's articles on the Writer's Strike (TM). The articles made me think that if this strike continued much longer the sun might blow up and life on Earth would cease. It's TV for crying out loud. Do I really have to watch The Office to be happy? No. Don't get me wrong. I love The Office and I'm hoping that it didn't jump the shark when Pam and Jim hooked up - but I don't HAVE TO watch it. In fact, I'm pretty happy so far. There's no 24, no Office, no Bionic Woman, no Battlestar G'smacktica. But I have my life back. (I made an exception for G'smacktica. If and when it comes back on, I will watch it w/ John otherwise our marriage with be in jeopardy).
I say, let the writers strike. Don't we all want to do something more with our lives than watch TV? Except for Packer games. They're in the playoffs for crying out loud.
So back to the topic of motherhood: Earlier today John and I had a tearfully funny moment when Will tried to speak a sentence. Will is very hyper and tends to speak very, very quickly and has difficulty with enunciation. Today, while sliding around the kitchen on his back we heard him say, "Is this a turd that has icy doves ringing in it?" I couldn't stop laughing. I had tears rolling down my face. Obviously that wasn't what he actually said but we both heard, "Is this a turd that has icy doves ringing in it?" He doesn't know the word "turd" by the way. We still don't know what he was talking about but he was very pleased that he had said something that made us laugh so hard.
And on that note - good night.
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