100 Posts, 100 Things

So, yesterday's lame post was my 99th. Which means this is the 100th post on this blog!!!! {Balloons and confetti stream from ceiling}

In honor of this auspicious (?) event, here are 100 things about me:

1. I can’t stand candy that is sticky or chewy. No Jolly Ranchers, suckers, Rolos, or jelly beans for me – all gross.
2. Raisin seems to have inherited this issue, because she constantly wants to wash her hands when they’re dirty or sticky.
3. I love to travel, but I also love coming back home.
4. I have been to about half of the states.
5. I’d like to visit them all someday.
6. I have also been to Canada, Mexico (technically, although I don’t remember it), England, France, Switzerland, Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic, Hungary, and India.
7. I’d go back to any of those places in a heartbeat.
8. I have a long list of other places I’d like to visit, too.
9. I speak a little German and French.
10. I used to be pretty fluent, but now I’m forgetting everything because I never have a chance to speak them anymore.
11. I have never lived anywhere but Minnesota.
12. I met my husband on a Minneapolis city bus.
13. The official story is that neither of us was stalking the other. (He totally thought I was cute and was following me. Really.)
14. When I was in high school, my friends and I memorized entire movies.
15. I can still quote large sections of our favorites.
16. We also had parties where we’d watch a day’s worth of movies, play movie trivia games, and re-enact our favorite scenes.
17. For example, we once made grilled cheese sandwiches with an iron.
18. “…for grilled cheese, I might’ve used a wool setting.” “That’s what I told him!” Never mind.
19. Raisin’s real name means “grace” in my father-in-law’s native language.
20. He’s from India.
21. He and MIL live in California now, right by Disneyland.
22. Our kids are never going to want to leave their house when they get older.
23. My parents live in a Minneapolis suburb.
24. Right by... golf courses and soccer fields. Fun.
25. When I got bored in class, I used to do “free associations” to keep myself busy. I’d write a word, then write the next thing that came to mind, etc.
26. Writing this list is kind of like that.
27. Yes, I know I’m a nerd. I was also in orchestra and academic club. Got a problem with that!?
28. Every spring, I re-read The Secret Garden.
29. If I had a green thumb, my garden would totally be like that. But I don’t, and it’s not.
30. At the time of this writing, I am pregnant with twins: one boy, and one girl.
31. Heh, that just made me think of this sappy Colin Raye song I love.
32. I don’t have snappy Internet names for them yet, but I’m thinking I’ll need something fruit-related.
33. Fraternal twins can run in families. Identical twins technically do not. Dr. Google just taught me that.
34. Yes, I have a family history of fraternal twins. It skipped several generations, so I thought I was safe.
35. I hate ladders. I can never climb up more than 2 rungs.
36. I just thought of that because there’s a window washer suspended outside my window right now. I hate that too.
37. At least he’s cute.
38. Of course, that only makes it more sad that he might be moments away from plummeting to his death.
39. I love mint and chocolate together.
40. Pineapple is the ideal pizza topping.
41. It’s “duck, duck, gray duck,” not “duck, duck, goose.” If you are not from Minnesota, you most likely say it wrong. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.
42. May 6, 2006 was my first blogiversary.
43. I kind of missed it because I had just found out THERE ARE TWO BABIES IN MY UTERUS.
44. I had a speech impediment until I was about 15. I had to go to therapy.
45. It never worked. Once a teacher told me I’d never get a job because of how I sounded.
46. Then I got my braces off and the problem went away. Go figure.
47. I have a job. So there, stupid teacher.
48. I’ll probably quit after the babies are born.
49. It feels weird that I know that already, but I can’t say anything for several months.
50. Someday I think I’d like to go back to school.
51. Not sure how that’s gonna happen with three kids.
52. I never know what people mean when they explain themselves with their astrological sign. “I’m a Leo, so that’s why I’m….”
53. I’m an Aries, if you care.
54. I had to look up Aries to make sure I spelled it right.
55. I love reality TV like “Survivor” and “The Amazing Race,” but I hate it when the contestants are mean to each other.
56. Apparently, reality to me means that everyone should just get along.
57. I re-read my favorite books over and over.
58. This includes, but is not limited to, Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, and anything by James Herriot.
59. I have many, many allergies.
60. Fortunately none of them are life-threatening.
61. Also, none of them are to food. That would be really bad.
62. I am generally pretty moderate politically, with a definite slant to the left.
63. I believe that one can be a Christian and a liberal, and it drives me nuts when people imply otherwise.
64. I am disproportionately worried about what will happen next year on “Gilmore Girls.”
65. I do not watch “Lost” or “American Idol.”
66. Yes, I am the one.
67. I hate my feet.
68. As a result, I also hate shoe shopping.
69. Someday they’re gonna revoke my girl card for that.
70. I do enjoy pedicures, celebrity gossip, and pretty purses, though. I hope that’s enough to keep me in the club.
71. I don’t usually like sauerkraut, but last weekend I ate some and it was awesome. I’m blaming the pregnancy hormones.
72. I don’t like to write with pencil. Pens only, and they have to be the right kind.
73. My church youth group was once on the news in Ontario because part of our group got lost at Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. I wasn’t one of the lost ones.
74. My other television credits include a two-second glimpse of me when my elementary-school dance group performed at the opening of a bridge, and an interview in my high school’s video yearbook.
75. No autographs, please.
76. I love to go boating, canoeing, and swimming.
77. I don’t like fishing.
78. I am too sensitive.
79. I changed my name when I got married, mostly because I like the idea of my whole family sharing a last name.
80. I do NOT like the idea of being “Mrs. John Smith.” I throw away mail that comes addressed that way, unless it’s from my grandma.
81. She gets a pass because she’s old enough to forget that I dislike that convention.
82. I am already planning to go back on Weight Watchers after giving birth.
83. I refuse to contemplate how much weight I may have to lose (because I refuse to contemplate how much I have left to gain).
84. WW has a nursing mom’s plan – I figure I get extra points for nursing two.
85. I have a hard time admitting I’m wrong.
86. For example, this week a co-worker disagreed with me about the placement of a comma. I looked it up in a grammar guide to prove I was right.
87. I was.
88. I suppose at this point it goes without saying that bad grammar and punctuation bother me.
89. Except, of course, errors that I make.
90. Like “bring” and “take.” I can never get that right without a seriously involved thought process.
91. I hate cigarette smoke. Not just normal hate, but active loathing.
92. I think Minnesota should have a law like that city in California, where smoking isn’t even allowed outside.
93. Usually this would offend my sense of individual liberty, but cigarette smoke is the exception that proves my rule. Plus it smells bad.
94. I have an internal hierarchy to decide who deserves a seat on the bus.
95. I’ll get up for an elderly, pregnant, or disabled person (when I’m not pregnant myself, of course). If you’re relatively young and not carrying anything heavy, you’re out of luck.
96. There are very few people who will give up their seat for an obviously pregnant woman. That really chaps my hide.
97. The list of blogs that I read should really be much longer than what’s on my blogroll, but I am too lazy to make it a separate page.
98. I think “grey” should always be spelled that way, not “gray.”
99. This list has taken me almost 2 weeks to write.
100. My favorite color is blue.

In Search of Interesting Material

Dear Internet,

Last night I watched "House." It was confusing. Tonight I think I'll do laundry.

My daughter thinks the moral of Five Little Monkeys is that it's fun to jump on the bed while shouting, "NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED!"

My brain is numb from doing boring paperwork.

Talk to you again soon.

Love,
Julie

Sometimes the Internet is Mean

I know this has absolutely nothing to do with me. Dooce has never heard of me. But ouch.

Especially when I started to read the comments, including, "this isn't meant to be offensive, so please don't get upset.it is because of people like your sister that i am choosing not to have any children."

Worried

When acquaintances first find out that we are expecting twins, the response is usually, "Congratulations!" Or maybe something like, "It's a double blessing!"

It is. I know that. I know that women everywhere are fighting with their entire beings to conceive a baby, have a baby, keep a baby, adopt a baby. We're unbelievably, undeniably blessed.

Also, if you're gonna have twins, you really couldn't ask for a better set of circumstances than these. Both sets of grandparents have already offered sacrifices of their time and money that absolutely move me to tears. There's no way we WON'T be OK -- our families will make sure of that.

Still, I worry.

I'm worried that I am going to be too tired and careworn to appreciate my children's babyhood.

I'm scared that I'll go into labor prematurely, or that something will happen to one of the babies. (When I thought I was pregnant with just one baby, I could deal. Now, not so much.)

I am so, so afraid that Raisin will spend the rest of her toddler years playing third wheel.

It's this last one that's really keeping me up at night. (Well, it would be, if I could keep my eyes open EVER.) I was fretting about it anyway, as I'm sure any mom does when her precious, first-born, center-of-the-universe child is about to become "baby's big sister." Now, as well-meaning friends and family point out, Raisin's world will be undergoing an even more drastic change. These assvicers pretty much have me convinced that I've spoiled Raisin horribly thus far, and that there is no question but that I will utterly ignore her once the twins arrive.

But hell, I can beat myself up over my awful parenting, and I can vow that I will do everything in my power to get some one-on-one time with Raisin to help her make the transition. The real question is, what do I do about the strangers who will, apparently, be gushing all over the twins while Raisin is shoved aside? (I don't find this scenario hard to imagine. When Raisin was a baby, a stranger at Target asked me if it would be OK for her to lick Raisin's toes. You can't trust people around babies.)

I'm starting to think that I should wear a sandwich board when I'm out with all three kids. It could say:

TALK TO THE TODDLER, THEN TALK TO THE TWINS.

Or,

DOESN'T MY OLDEST HAVE BEAUTIFUL HAIR!?

Or, the less courteous but more honest

YES, THEY ARE TWINS. PLEASE LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE.

Just Watch What You Say To Me

Him: I like your pregnant belly. You know that, right?
Me: Do you like my big, fat pregnant butt, too?
Him, sensing danger: Yes?
[stony silence]
Him: I mean, your butt doesn't look any different than it usually does?
Me: So it's always fat?


Raisin's toy vacuum: Oh, boy! This place is a mess!
Me: Shut your trap, Dusty.

I Look Like a Boy

She said, "Do you want your bangs a little shorter this time?"

I foolishly agreed, "Sure, a little bit."

And then she cut off an inch and a half in one snip.

I've Got Nothin'

But I'm posting anyway because let's talk about something other than the twins for a little while.

For example, why does Nicole Kidman still love Tom Cruise? Seriously? He hasn't killed that feeling for her yet?

Or, how funny is that Bush impersonator guy that's been on "Meet the Press" and "Today" this week? I especially like his opening line, "First, I'd like to welcome you to xxx. Third,...." Comedy gold.

I hate "The View," but I might watch if I'm on bed rest this summer or while I'm nursing babies this fall. I hear that Star Jones and Rosie O'Donnell hate each other, and I would love to see those two scratch each other's eyes out. Funny! And also probably really good for breastmilk quality, don't you think?

How come every time I read Anne of Green Gables, I forget that Matthew dies in the first book? I always think it's the second book, and then it happens, and then I cry. Unfair.

There. Let's discuss.

The Rest of the Story

Or, Blogging as Emotional Outlet and Free Therapy

Part I: In which nobody figures out I'm carrying twins until 18 weeks

In retrospect, the "diagnosis" explains so many things: why the "morning" sickness has been so awful; why I'm so, um, large; why I'm extra tired and emotional; why I felt movement so early (and in places I didn't think such an early fetus should be). But denial, she's a powerful animal, and alternative explanations were so easy to come by. Every pregnancy is different; this is the second time, so you'll "pop" sooner; you already have a toddler to care for; maybe it's gas; blah, blah, blah.

The midwife did say that looking back, my uterus was bigger at 13 weeks than "normal." It was just wasn't enough bigger that she got concerned. Plus, they plunked down the Doppler twice and heard a healthy heartbeat -- nobody thought to maybe wave the thing around a little to see what else was in there. And, since we spaced the visits farther apart (at the midwife's suggestion), there was never another chance for an actual professional to say, "hmmm, something's different."

Oh, well. We could've found out in the delivery room, I suppose.

Part II: In which the Discovery is made

We were late for our ultrasound appointment yesterday. I wrote 7:30 in my planner, but we should have been there at 7:15. The witch at the front desk pointed this out to me three times. I apologized the first two.

I apologized again to the ultrasound tech (after all, she's the one who actually had to wait for us). She, of course, was very nice about it, and she assured us there would still be time before my midwife appointment to do the full scan. HA HA HA HA HA HA.

About 15 seconds after she started moving the wand around, she started making faces. That made me nervous, and it didn't help when she said, "Who's your doctor again?" Then she twitched the wand up to the top of my uterus so we could see both heads at once, and said, "Do you see what I'm seeing here?" And then she had to get out the smelling salts. Almost.

She said she got suspicious because she started on the side of my belly AWAY from the bulge, but found a baby anyway. She sneakily confirmed it for herself before showing us the money shot, hence all the frowny faces.

So, there was not time for a complete check-up on either baby, but she hit the high points (heartbeat, placentas, skull circumference, and the sex of the babies as a bonus for us). The Level 2 u/s tomorrow at the perinatal clinic will be more complete.

Part III: In which we realize that this might maybe sort of be OK a little

There was much crying and panicking yesterday when I first got the news. I never wanted a large family. In fact, I made a big deal about not being outnumbered by our kids (again, HA HA HA HA HA HA HA). It's hard to explain the feeling -- I mean, when you see your child(ren!) for the first time, any expectations become irrelevant anyway, right? I was -- dumbfounded, I guess.

Now that I'm recovering from the shock, I am willing to admit to some cautious optimism. My pregnancy is now higher risk, but I am healthy. I will miss my job, but we will all be less stressed -- and the budget will be less tight -- if I stay home for a while. It will be hard work, but our families and friends have already promised an overwhelming amount of help and support. We will be OK.

Part IV: In which we demonstrate that laughter is truly the best medicine

After Raisin retired for the night, DH and I finally had a chance to discuss yesterday's events, including:

One of DH's first reactions: Well, I'll ask the doctor about a vasectomy.
One of my first reactions: Poor, poor Raisin. What have I done?
My favorite new word I learned yesterday: hyperovulation. My ovaries, they are hyper. Calm down, girls, the party's over.

Take a Deep Breath

Here's what we know so far:
-Each baby has its own placenta and amniotic sac. Good news.
-Best guess is that I'm carrying one boy and one girl.
-Both babies are measuring right on schedule for 18 weeks, and the quick scan the ultrasound tech was able to do looks good.
-I can no longer see the midwives, but I can see an OB in the same office, so hopefully the basic philosophy of care will stay the same.
-I have an ultrasound at a perinatal clinic on Friday so they can do a more thorough check on each baby.

The list of things we don't know is infinite and frightening, but includes:
-Whether I will be able to travel as planned this summer.
-Whether we can afford day care for 3 kids.
-Whether I am going to lose my mind 100% or if parts of it might be salvageable.

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

Oh, and OH HOLY CRAP!

Twins.

TWINS.

I am a complete freaking basket case. There are so many decisions to make, and so many things to think about. I'm off to a good start, though, I think. So far today I:

1) Cried
2) Ate
3) Showed up to work 1.5 hours later than expected

So I can scratch those 3 things off the list. Whew.

Birthday Party

I am jealous of my daughter. She's got perfect hair and eyes and a stunning complexion. Not fair. And now, she has better toys than I do.

Seriously. My dad built her an entire miniature kitchen for her birthday. There's a refrigerator, a sink, and a range/oven. There are real working lights in the fridge and oven. The fridge has a crisper drawer, the oven has removable baking racks. The tiny utensils my mother-in-law gave her are in way better shape than my real ones. She has stainless steel cookware, people. And itty-bitty oven mitts. And wooden knives with which to cut up her wooden veggies. (Have you seen those things? The ones with the pieces velcro'd together so you really can cut them open? SO JEALOUS!!!!)

DH and I gave her a tricycle. She can't quite pedal on her own, but the model we picked out has a removable steering handle so an adult can push it from behind. Of course, between the rain we had all weekend and the houseful of grown-ups ready to bow to her every whim, she now believes that this is a prime way to get up and down our hallway.

"Mommy turn!" she said to me at one point yesterday.

"Oh, honey, I don't think I'll fit on your bike," I said (NAIVE MOMMY!).

She turned around and gestured impatiently at the handle. "No, Mommy turn push!"

Mm-hmmmm. You're lucky you're so cute, sweets.