Packing list:
1 DH
1 Raisin
2 Fetuses
4 Boxes Ready-Cut Spaghetti (Hi MIL! We remembered!)
1 Maternity Swimsuit (Is California ready for this? I doubt it!)
1 Letter from OB saying the flight attendants have to be nice to me
1 Diaper bag whose contents will probably keep Raisin entertained for 20 minutes. Total travel time: um, way more than 20 minutes. That's why I need the letter.
Sounds like a vacation to me. Happy 4th, everyone!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Realizing How Apt A Metaphor It Is
Dear Elephants,
I think it would just be easier for everyone if you stopped pooping altogether. Thank you.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's an escaped lion wreaking havoc among the acrobats, and the ringmaster is having a panic attack.
Sincerely,
Grape
I think it would just be easier for everyone if you stopped pooping altogether. Thank you.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's an escaped lion wreaking havoc among the acrobats, and the ringmaster is having a panic attack.
Sincerely,
Grape
Thursday, June 22, 2006
The Elephant in the Room
I don't usually write about work here, mostly because it would be insanely boring for everyone involved. Yesterday, though, something happened that might be a little more interesting than normal, and I would very much like to tell the whole Internet all about it. I also would very much like to not get Dooced. I introduce you, therefore, to the Hyperextended Metaphor. Enjoy.
Let's say, for the sake of the metaphor, that I work for a circus. When I started at the circus 6 years ago, I had no experience in the circus industry. I was given a training-type position -- one where I could learn the business and still serve a useful purpose by performing tasks the more experienced circus members didn't have time/didn't want to do. Let's say that one of these jobs was to clean up after the elephants.
Now, I'm sure it's pretty obvious why the more experienced circus performances didn't want to have to clean up after the elephants. The job is monotonous and repetitive, and there's a really good chance that you'll end up covered in elephant crap. There is an element of risk to Elephant Crap Management, however, because if it's not done well, the animals will get sick and the circus will lose customers.
When I first started in Elephant Crap Management, this element of risk was heightened because the equipment -- hoses and such -- that we were using was outdated and in disrepair. Nevertheless, I eventually became pretty good at ECM. I also learned a lot of other cool tricks, and I was gradually promoted to throwing cream pies at clowns and even tightrope walking. Even after being promoted, though, I was still in charge of ECM -- the bosses could just never find anyone else to take it over. (Read: I am spineless, and never insisted that they make the new kid do it.)
Then, a little over a year ago, I got a job in the circus' administrative wing. My first project, fittingly, was to develop a better Elephant Crap Management System. I should note that I was only SLIGHTLY bitter that I had spent 5 years up to my ankles in elephant crap, only to be given the task of making the job easier for the person who followed in my footsteps. Still, I didn't have to spend every day reeking of elephant crap, so it was an improvement.
The ECMS project team worked for about six months developing better ECM equipment, and we came up with a much better system, if I do say it myself. Which I do.
This year, with more project experience under my belt, I saw some things we could've done better. So I told my boss that with funding, I could fix some bugs in the ECMS to make things easier still. The head circus people conferred and gave me the money -- they even gave me extra so we could develop some new ECMS features. (Um, like a disinfectant sprayer thingy? This is where the metaphor gets more and more difficult to maintain.) And ECMS Phase II was born, and that's what I spend a great deal of time on these days.
Which brings us to the current day. (Thank God, sigh the readers who haven't given up yet.) Yesterday, the circus brass found out that the Federal Board of Circus Freaks (FBCF) has revised the Elephant Crap Management section of the Circus Act of 1954 (circus act! ha!) -- section 15(g)(ii). It's not clear yet, but it appears the revised language indicates that ECM is now the responsibility of the elephants themselves, and not the circus. Or something. If that's true, ECMS Phase II will be canceled, and the entire ECMS will probably be retired.
The thing is, I think I've developed some kind of weird Stockholm Syndrome with the elephant crap. I've spent 6 years of my professional life trying to clean up the crap, and now all of a sudden it just might be totally gone. And then what will I do?
Let's say, for the sake of the metaphor, that I work for a circus. When I started at the circus 6 years ago, I had no experience in the circus industry. I was given a training-type position -- one where I could learn the business and still serve a useful purpose by performing tasks the more experienced circus members didn't have time/didn't want to do. Let's say that one of these jobs was to clean up after the elephants.
Now, I'm sure it's pretty obvious why the more experienced circus performances didn't want to have to clean up after the elephants. The job is monotonous and repetitive, and there's a really good chance that you'll end up covered in elephant crap. There is an element of risk to Elephant Crap Management, however, because if it's not done well, the animals will get sick and the circus will lose customers.
When I first started in Elephant Crap Management, this element of risk was heightened because the equipment -- hoses and such -- that we were using was outdated and in disrepair. Nevertheless, I eventually became pretty good at ECM. I also learned a lot of other cool tricks, and I was gradually promoted to throwing cream pies at clowns and even tightrope walking. Even after being promoted, though, I was still in charge of ECM -- the bosses could just never find anyone else to take it over. (Read: I am spineless, and never insisted that they make the new kid do it.)
Then, a little over a year ago, I got a job in the circus' administrative wing. My first project, fittingly, was to develop a better Elephant Crap Management System. I should note that I was only SLIGHTLY bitter that I had spent 5 years up to my ankles in elephant crap, only to be given the task of making the job easier for the person who followed in my footsteps. Still, I didn't have to spend every day reeking of elephant crap, so it was an improvement.
The ECMS project team worked for about six months developing better ECM equipment, and we came up with a much better system, if I do say it myself. Which I do.
This year, with more project experience under my belt, I saw some things we could've done better. So I told my boss that with funding, I could fix some bugs in the ECMS to make things easier still. The head circus people conferred and gave me the money -- they even gave me extra so we could develop some new ECMS features. (Um, like a disinfectant sprayer thingy? This is where the metaphor gets more and more difficult to maintain.) And ECMS Phase II was born, and that's what I spend a great deal of time on these days.
Which brings us to the current day. (Thank God, sigh the readers who haven't given up yet.) Yesterday, the circus brass found out that the Federal Board of Circus Freaks (FBCF) has revised the Elephant Crap Management section of the Circus Act of 1954 (circus act! ha!) -- section 15(g)(ii). It's not clear yet, but it appears the revised language indicates that ECM is now the responsibility of the elephants themselves, and not the circus. Or something. If that's true, ECMS Phase II will be canceled, and the entire ECMS will probably be retired.
The thing is, I think I've developed some kind of weird Stockholm Syndrome with the elephant crap. I've spent 6 years of my professional life trying to clean up the crap, and now all of a sudden it just might be totally gone. And then what will I do?
Monday, June 19, 2006
Good System
The WeightWatchers pizza I brought for lunch only made me want real pizza. Which I went out and bought.
What? The babies are hungry.
What? The babies are hungry.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Balancing Act
I'm not the only one who had something to say about the NY Times article.
While we're discussing hot-button parenting issues, I've been thinking a lot about this and this.
The hardest thing about parenting for me has been the constant tightrope walking.
Don't introduce solids too early! But don't start too late, either! (I think we already covered the Other Great Feeding Debate.)
Is your child getting enough creative time? Enough active play? Enough time alone? Enough time with other kids?
Why can't she sleep? Is she overstimulated? Understimulated? Bedtime too early? Afraid of monsters?
What the Dooce and Amalah posts have me pondering is this: How can we best reassure our kids that Mommy and Daddy are capable and in control, while still helping them to understand that we are human? Because I think that's a really important lesson for our children, too. Raisin needs to know that Daddy will sometimes need a break, and that Mommy makes mistakes. She needs to know that's OK, so she can give herself permission to screw up sometimes, too.
It feels like yet another tightrope on which I have to balance. And yet, the mechanism to deal with a failure is built-in. It's an opportunity to forgive myself and show my daughter that strength is sometimes just perserverance in the face of weakness.
This weekend, Raisin ran into the kitchen carrying DH's glasses. "No! Raisin, those are Daddy's," I scolded. She looked surprised and hurt as she handed them carefully to her dad. She'd seen them in the bathroom and brought them to Daddy, thinking he might need them. When I thought about it later and realized what I'd done, I apologized.
I hope she'll come to respect our discipline more if she knows we discipline ourselves. That she'll trust us more knowing that we question our own trustworthiness. That if she knows that we are trying to be good parents, she'll be more ready to accept the times when we are not.
God, I hope I'm not wrong.
While we're discussing hot-button parenting issues, I've been thinking a lot about this and this.
The hardest thing about parenting for me has been the constant tightrope walking.
Don't introduce solids too early! But don't start too late, either! (I think we already covered the Other Great Feeding Debate.)
Is your child getting enough creative time? Enough active play? Enough time alone? Enough time with other kids?
Why can't she sleep? Is she overstimulated? Understimulated? Bedtime too early? Afraid of monsters?
What the Dooce and Amalah posts have me pondering is this: How can we best reassure our kids that Mommy and Daddy are capable and in control, while still helping them to understand that we are human? Because I think that's a really important lesson for our children, too. Raisin needs to know that Daddy will sometimes need a break, and that Mommy makes mistakes. She needs to know that's OK, so she can give herself permission to screw up sometimes, too.
It feels like yet another tightrope on which I have to balance. And yet, the mechanism to deal with a failure is built-in. It's an opportunity to forgive myself and show my daughter that strength is sometimes just perserverance in the face of weakness.
This weekend, Raisin ran into the kitchen carrying DH's glasses. "No! Raisin, those are Daddy's," I scolded. She looked surprised and hurt as she handed them carefully to her dad. She'd seen them in the bathroom and brought them to Daddy, thinking he might need them. When I thought about it later and realized what I'd done, I apologized.
I hope she'll come to respect our discipline more if she knows we discipline ourselves. That she'll trust us more knowing that we question our own trustworthiness. That if she knows that we are trying to be good parents, she'll be more ready to accept the times when we are not.
God, I hope I'm not wrong.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Oh, Let's Just Call the Post "Boobies." The Google Searches Are Coming Anyway...
Should mothers be guilted into breastfeeding? According to this New York Times article, some US officials seem to think so.
For example, the piece mentions PSAs depicting a pregnant woman being thrown from a mechanical bull. Her choice to ride is, according to the ad, as risky to her child as would be the choice to formula-feed.
Senator Tom Harkin of Iowa has proposed adding cigarette-style warnings to formula packages.
Here's what I thought was the key paragraph from the Times:
"... Urging women to breast-feed exclusively is a tall order in a country where more than 60 percent of mothers of very young children work, federal law requires large companies to provide only 12 weeks' unpaid maternity leave and lactation leave is unheard of. Only a third of large companies provide a private, secure area where women can express breast milk during the workday, and only 7 percent offer on-site or near-site child care, according to a 2005 national study of employers by the nonprofit Families and Work Institute."
I'd say, given the obstacles facing a new mother, putting a warning label on a formula canister is kind of like putting a Band-Aid on an amputation. If the good Senator really wants to promote breastfeeding in the United States, he and his colleagues can:
1. Make it easier for mothers who return to work to continue to nurse their babies.
2. Do some research. Why are black mothers less likely to breastfeed than Hispanic mothers? When women choose not to breastfeed, or to stop nursing "early," what are their reasons?
3. Use the research to improve the odds for moms who want to nurse. No agendas, no pressure -- that turns people off -- just opportunities.
4. If you're gonna pay for public service announcements, start with the stigma around public breastfeeding. No parent trying to do what's right for their family wants to get a dirty look. (In all fairness, this works in reverse as well. I know some moms feel they've been harshly judged for bottle-feeding.)
I think most moms know that breastfeeding=good. I think we also know first-hand that it's hard. And maybe we could use a little help, instead of guilt and threats.
*Disclaimer: I am lucky. I work for a company that DOES provide a private lactation room. My husband, boss, doctor, and daycare were all supportive of me. They supported me when I attempted to feed Raisin just breastmilk, and they supported me when I couldn't pump that much and had to supplement with formula. Because I'm lucky, I was able to breastfeed until I was ready to stop. My opinions are colored by my own experience. If your opinion and/or experience is different, feel free to share. But be nice.
For example, the piece mentions PSAs depicting a pregnant woman being thrown from a mechanical bull. Her choice to ride is, according to the ad, as risky to her child as would be the choice to formula-feed.
Senator Tom Harkin of Iowa has proposed adding cigarette-style warnings to formula packages.
Here's what I thought was the key paragraph from the Times:
"... Urging women to breast-feed exclusively is a tall order in a country where more than 60 percent of mothers of very young children work, federal law requires large companies to provide only 12 weeks' unpaid maternity leave and lactation leave is unheard of. Only a third of large companies provide a private, secure area where women can express breast milk during the workday, and only 7 percent offer on-site or near-site child care, according to a 2005 national study of employers by the nonprofit Families and Work Institute."
I'd say, given the obstacles facing a new mother, putting a warning label on a formula canister is kind of like putting a Band-Aid on an amputation. If the good Senator really wants to promote breastfeeding in the United States, he and his colleagues can:
1. Make it easier for mothers who return to work to continue to nurse their babies.
2. Do some research. Why are black mothers less likely to breastfeed than Hispanic mothers? When women choose not to breastfeed, or to stop nursing "early," what are their reasons?
3. Use the research to improve the odds for moms who want to nurse. No agendas, no pressure -- that turns people off -- just opportunities.
4. If you're gonna pay for public service announcements, start with the stigma around public breastfeeding. No parent trying to do what's right for their family wants to get a dirty look. (In all fairness, this works in reverse as well. I know some moms feel they've been harshly judged for bottle-feeding.)
I think most moms know that breastfeeding=good. I think we also know first-hand that it's hard. And maybe we could use a little help, instead of guilt and threats.
*Disclaimer: I am lucky. I work for a company that DOES provide a private lactation room. My husband, boss, doctor, and daycare were all supportive of me. They supported me when I attempted to feed Raisin just breastmilk, and they supported me when I couldn't pump that much and had to supplement with formula. Because I'm lucky, I was able to breastfeed until I was ready to stop. My opinions are colored by my own experience. If your opinion and/or experience is different, feel free to share. But be nice.
Monday, June 12, 2006
I Feel Pretty
I've developed a twitch in my left eye. Watching myself in the mirror, I don't think it's something anyone else will notice, but it's driving me crazy and I feel like my face is one big nervous tic.
Women pregnant with multiples and women pregnant for the second or subsequent time are more likely to start leaking colostrum earlier in pregnancy. Ask me how I know.
My haircut appointment isn't until Thursday. Except for the boy-bangs, now thankfully grown out to an acceptable length, it needs to be cut NOW.
Acne sucks. Being too tired to properly wash one's face, and therefore being partially responsible for one's own acne outbreaks sucks even more.
I knew the stretch marks were coming. I know there'll be plenty more by the time we're all done. Still, bah.
If belly buttons were like those pop-up things on turkeys, it'd be time to head to the hospital. Past time, in fact.
Blah blah life-affirming pregnancy glow blah blah blah.
Women pregnant with multiples and women pregnant for the second or subsequent time are more likely to start leaking colostrum earlier in pregnancy. Ask me how I know.
My haircut appointment isn't until Thursday. Except for the boy-bangs, now thankfully grown out to an acceptable length, it needs to be cut NOW.
Acne sucks. Being too tired to properly wash one's face, and therefore being partially responsible for one's own acne outbreaks sucks even more.
I knew the stretch marks were coming. I know there'll be plenty more by the time we're all done. Still, bah.
If belly buttons were like those pop-up things on turkeys, it'd be time to head to the hospital. Past time, in fact.
Blah blah life-affirming pregnancy glow blah blah blah.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
I Wish I'd Said...
"Dad, I'm 28 -- two years younger than Mom was when my brother was born. My back hurts because I'm pregnant with twins, not because I'm 'not that young anymore.'"
"Sir, I can see you glancing pointedly from my abdomen to my left hand and shaking your head. It is absolutely none of your business, but I had to take off my wedding ring because my hands swell sometimes."
"You are the first person in two months of informal surveying who has actually given up your seat for me. God bless you." (I DID say, "Thank you," but it felt inadequate.)
"Raisin, I am sorry I spit ice cream at you. But when Grandpa asked, 'Are you a boy or a girl?' and you responded, 'Bird!' it was just too funny and I couldn't help laughing even though I had just taken a big bite."
"Sir, I can see you glancing pointedly from my abdomen to my left hand and shaking your head. It is absolutely none of your business, but I had to take off my wedding ring because my hands swell sometimes."
"You are the first person in two months of informal surveying who has actually given up your seat for me. God bless you." (I DID say, "Thank you," but it felt inadequate.)
"Raisin, I am sorry I spit ice cream at you. But when Grandpa asked, 'Are you a boy or a girl?' and you responded, 'Bird!' it was just too funny and I couldn't help laughing even though I had just taken a big bite."
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
I Love You, Sears.
I always thought I'd be much more likely to write a post about my devotion to Target. (And I would not be alone in the blogosphere. I won't try to prove that I love Target more than these people, because I think I would lose. However, I will try to prove my own awesomeness by pointing out that the Target closest to my house was THE VERY FIRST Target. Ever. "T-1," as those of us in the know like to call it. It's not really T-1 anymore, because they just tore it down and rebuilt it as a Super Target. But, really, doesn't that just make it - and by extension me - more awesome? Yes it does.)
Anyway. Target does not have appliances, and Sears does. So just for a little while, I am flirting with Sears. (I still love you, Target!) In fact, Sears has just brought me some brand new, shiny toys. A washer that holds twice the clothes but uses half the water. A dryer that actually maybe will sometimes dry things faster than they'd dry hanging on the line in the rain. A refrigerator/freezer in which ice is made -- and it stays frozen! Revolutionary!
There is a possibility that I am more excited about these arrivals than the coming birth of my children. But, see, when the washing machine was delivered, it didn't hurt a bit.
Anyway. Target does not have appliances, and Sears does. So just for a little while, I am flirting with Sears. (I still love you, Target!) In fact, Sears has just brought me some brand new, shiny toys. A washer that holds twice the clothes but uses half the water. A dryer that actually maybe will sometimes dry things faster than they'd dry hanging on the line in the rain. A refrigerator/freezer in which ice is made -- and it stays frozen! Revolutionary!
There is a possibility that I am more excited about these arrivals than the coming birth of my children. But, see, when the washing machine was delivered, it didn't hurt a bit.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
A Bunch of Posts That Are Too Short On Their Own, All Lumped Into One!
Eternal Sunshine of the Messed Up Mind
I woke up the other day completely freaked out about how a parent handles the high school graduation open houses of twins. Do they have one joint party? Two separate parties? What's a mom to do!? (For the record, I've decided that we should plan, in 18 years, to offer our kids a choice. If they want a joint party, it can be bigger. If they choose separate open houses, they'll each have to sacrifice a little bit. It's good to have these things settled.)
Who The Heck Were These People?
DH recently destroyed an icky storage shed erected by the previous owners of our house. It violated code and was ugly and useless, so he tore it down. Underneath, he discovered what appears to be the contents of a woman's wallet -- NOT a woman who has ever lived in our house. Fortunately, DH looked her up and she is still alive and well.
You Have to Consider All the Angles
We have finally started to get serious about names for the babies. In fact, I think we might be set, but we're still thinking. You see, sometimes danger lurks in the best-sounding names. We thought we had the girl's name all figured out, and oh, how we both loved the name. It was perfect. Except the initials were KFC.
Perhaps I Eat Too Much Cheese
Theories abound about what precipitated the conception of our twins. There's the family history, and the fact that I stopped taking birth control pills not long before we conceived. And now there's this. (In case you can't see the article: a study now suggests that women who eat dairy conceive fraternal twins at a much higher rate than women who do not, possibly because of the increased use of bovine growth hormones.)
I woke up the other day completely freaked out about how a parent handles the high school graduation open houses of twins. Do they have one joint party? Two separate parties? What's a mom to do!? (For the record, I've decided that we should plan, in 18 years, to offer our kids a choice. If they want a joint party, it can be bigger. If they choose separate open houses, they'll each have to sacrifice a little bit. It's good to have these things settled.)
Who The Heck Were These People?
DH recently destroyed an icky storage shed erected by the previous owners of our house. It violated code and was ugly and useless, so he tore it down. Underneath, he discovered what appears to be the contents of a woman's wallet -- NOT a woman who has ever lived in our house. Fortunately, DH looked her up and she is still alive and well.
You Have to Consider All the Angles
We have finally started to get serious about names for the babies. In fact, I think we might be set, but we're still thinking. You see, sometimes danger lurks in the best-sounding names. We thought we had the girl's name all figured out, and oh, how we both loved the name. It was perfect. Except the initials were KFC.
Perhaps I Eat Too Much Cheese
Theories abound about what precipitated the conception of our twins. There's the family history, and the fact that I stopped taking birth control pills not long before we conceived. And now there's this. (In case you can't see the article: a study now suggests that women who eat dairy conceive fraternal twins at a much higher rate than women who do not, possibly because of the increased use of bovine growth hormones.)
Thursday, May 25, 2006
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 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.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
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
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
Thursday, May 18, 2006
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."
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.
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.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, May 12, 2006
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 foolishly agreed, "Sure, a little bit."
And then she cut off an inch and a half in one snip.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
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.
-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.
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.
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