Why so Grimm?

So, Ariel was watching Hannah Montana yesterday (yes, I know), and she asked the question.

Ariel: "Where is her mommy?".

Me: "Uh... she's dead."

Ariel: "Oh... that's so sad."

YES! Yes, it is sad! So why does almost every kids character have dead damn parents?? She asked the same about Harry Potter: "Where are Harry's parents?"... "Dead." Then, of course there's Cinderella, Snow White and The Little Mermaid- dead, dead, dead. I don't ever remember thinking about this stuff as a child!

Disney did base most of its movies on The Brothers Grimm stories which are, well... grim. And I know there's the whole, "there wouldn't be a story without the challenge for the character" thing, which is true in a sense but now, she randomly asks me if she can live with grandma and grandpa if we die, and if it's okay if she brings her bunk beds to their house. Gee, thanks!

At least she's a forward thinker!

Get In Ma Belly!

I survived! Getting out the door with 4 kids is one thing, but getting out the door trying to make everybody look at least halfway decent for Thanksgiving- nightmare!! First of all, nothing fits me. What are my options... dress, or leggings... or sweatpants. I feel like a stuffed sausage in most of my clothes, including dresses, and I refuse to buy new pants or jeans in my "new" size- I WILL fit into my favorite jeans again- I will, I will, I will! So, after digging through my closet, I settled on my uniform of late. leggings, boots, Spanx, tunic. Shower, hair, makeup- holy hell! Ever tried doing your mascara while holding a squirming baby? A baby who decides at just the right moment to reach out and grab the mascara wand, and then quickly sweep it across your eyebrow and into your hair? This happened when I was already 30 minutes behind schedule and none of the kids were even dressed, let alone had brushed teeth or hair. I finally told the girls to wear whatever they wanted, and they chose some outfits that I must say... really represented their hobo chic side.

Absolutely no creativity went into the babies outfits, I realized that, um... I was completely unprepared for their holiday wear. Isn't that what I'm supposed to get all excited about and prepare in advance for? New babies= fancy, adorable little outfits for Thanksgiving and Christmas that they wear only once. Yep, dropped that ball. As for the older girls... they looked kinda homeless. Their hair looked like a few pigeon families had chosen to nest in it. I completely gave up on shoes and Aurora even had red marker up and down her arms and legs. I realized then- mascara smeared across my face, gnarly-haired children, plain-dressed babies- that my efforts were futile. It was only Grandma and Grandpa's house. My mom- who used to wrap our Christmas gifts in NEWSPAPER- won't care that the kids are shoeless and dressed like they belong in a Tim Burton movie, and it was really only them and my grandparents this year because my sisters household got hit with the flu and my brother was with his fiance's family- what the hell was I so concerned about?? I should really just invest in muumuu's for such occasions- no need for Spanx, or faboosh shoes- I could eat the whole table and nobody would be the wiser! It would be so comfy and I've always secretly wanted a flamingo and palm leaf print muumuu for myself- I could totally rock the Mrs. Roper look! Why aren't they more popular??

Should Monte be worried?

Well, we got to their house a little late, but Grandma had it covered. She brushed hair and even had a stash of backup clothes for the gypsy children. Dinner was amazing- gotta love that Tofurkey- and the only thing missing was Monte. I wish he could have spent the holiday with us, but I'm getting pretty used to shlepping it alone at this point, I don't know if that's good or bad. A little of both, maybe.

Happy Tofurkey Day!

When I was a kid, we used to take camping trips in the desert with a large group of friends. We had a tradition of spending every Thanksgiving in Ocotillo Wells, where we'd dirt bike and explore for days. We'd set up a "table", made up all of our camping tables, in a long row that was probably about 50 feet long. It was a big yummy pot luck made by all of the mama's, and a good time was had by all, sometimes we'd even dress up like Indians! After dinner, all of us kids would play hide-and-go-seek in the dark desert. We'd hide under the motorhomes and behind bushes (hello snakes and scorpions??), and later, all of the dads would tell tall tales by the fire and we'd sing and play jokes. Us kids would climb trees and build forts by day, occasionally jumping on our dirt bikes and zipping off into the desert together- with no adults at, like, 7 years old??? It was great fun! I cherish these memories, and the friendships that I still hold dear to this day.

Ocotillo was just one of many trips that my family would take very year. We'd go to Yosemite in the Spring, Lake Mojave in the summer where we'd waterski, jetski and boat... Mammoth every winter to ski and snowboard, and every few years, we'd rent a houseboat with friends on Lake Powell. I can't imagine how much work went into these trips- the packing of clothes, food and essentials to take a trip with 3 kids (let alone 4!). It's a big friggin' deal! All I had to do was get into bed in our motorhome at 4am, when we'd leave for the trip, and I'd wake up to the smell of pancakes that my mom would be cooking in the kitchen while we drove. One of my favorite things to do would be to hang my head out the back window like a dog, and listen to music on my walkman. My dad would always drive. My mom wasn't allowed to drive the motorhome because as my dad would say, "If she sees one bunny rabbit in the road, she'll swerve, and kill us all!". My dad would stop at every plaque on the road and read about the history of every little thing- I'd roll my eyes and beg to stay in the motorhome- but, why??? Now, I get it. Sorry, Dad... teenagers can be such ungrateful little sh*theads! Before having kids, I never appreciated or thought about how much work my parents put into this stuff, not to mention the expense of it all, and my parents worked hard for it.

Married at 18, they saved every single penny they had, and working as a waitress and a machinist, bought their first home at 21. My mom started an in-home daycare and my dad became a sprinkler-fitter, and when I was 4, they put every penny into buying a house that was a big-time fixer-upper. Basically, the people they bought it from were in the middle of construction when they got a divorce. There were many holes in the walls and floors and my sister got so many flea bites that her school called CPS on my parents when she told them that "the bugs came from the big holes in the floor and bit me!". It was pretty torn up... but, now my dad owns his own company and that fixer-upper is their dream home. I barely remember those "hardships" as a kid- I just knew that I was always fed, and loved and didn't have a care in the world. Just as it should be.

I am grateful for my wonderful parents, and priceless childhood memories, and for my amazing husband and beautiful children. I look forward to the many adventures to come for our sweet family!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Holiday Cards

I started out my holiday card project with good intentions. I found a deal on Dealpop for half off of Tiny Prints. Well, if you’re a fan of the photo card, you probably know that Tiny Prints makes the cutest ones around. I thought, “Great, the cards will be cute, I’ll insert a photo, order them in ten minutes, people will be amazed.” FOUR hours later, I was still tweaking the card. I had uploaded a total of twenty photos of four images and saved six different card projects. That means that there were five versions of the four photos I had chosen, each with a very subtle difference. Blurred edges, vintage look, color fade, cropping, my tiny once a year project had spiraled out of control. Close to midnight I took the crazy up a notch. I emailed the “chosen one” to my photographer friend to see if she could remove the Paul Frank monkey from my son’s shirt because it wasn’t meshing with the vintage background that I chose.

Why is this so important? Well, of course, it’s not. Why does it make me crazy? I blame that on being a stay at home mom. Let’s be honest, I live in a bubble. I don’t have much going on. We go on outings, I arrange play dates, and I cook dinner. There are no spreadsheets, deadlines, or office politics...just holiday cards. Stay at home moms don’t get a pat on the back by their boss. They don’t get promotions or bonuses. Nobody comes in to my house and praises my sparkling clean counter tops or my beautifully folded piles of laundry and that’s fine. It’s what I signed up for and a fair trade in my opinion. However, sometimes it feels nice to have a little recognition for a job well done (from someone other than my husband). So I obsess about my holiday cards. I think that Holiday Card #6 is a winner and hopefully my friends and family will agree and let me know. In the meantime, I’m giving myself a pat on the back

Could you please hold that door for me Sir?

I’m not a jerk, at least I don’t think I am. I smile and say “hi” to strangers, I coo at babies, and I always pick out thoughtful presents. So I’m not sure how this happened exactly but somewhere between struggling to open doors and dodging dirty looks (tantrum, anyone?), I became quite the connoisseur of passive aggressive comments.

While my son weighs in at a whopping 26 pounds, he packs quite the punch. Who would dare spar with a woman that has a toddler in tow? With him at my side I am virtually invincible. “Wow, that’s very thoughtful” I say to the woman in line at the bathroom as she casually slips in to the only handicapped stall, leaving my stroller and me in the dust. “It’s hard to ride a bike in the dark? It’s also hard to walk in the dark apparently” I quip to the woman who has just battled for sidewalk space with my five year old niece and her bike.

I would like to hope that parenting has primarily changed me for the better. I am definitely more compassionate and aware of people’s daily struggles. You never know what challenges another person has or whether they are just having an “off” day. At least that’s how it goes in my head. What comes out of my mouth is “could you please (exaggerated eye roll) open the door for me? Uh, thanks (in a curt tone).”

Yes, some day my son will understand my comments and I will have to grow up and learn to behave like an adult. Until then....watch your back. You’re one stolen bathroom away from a very passive aggressive comment.

Midnight Boobie Gymnastics!

I used to be able to tandem nurse the babies with my twin nursing pillow, but now they hate it so, I have to do one at a time. It's really FUN when they both wake up at the same time in the middle of the night. The last few nights, they both decided to wake up at 3am. Both of them. At the same. Damn. Time. Because we co-sleep, normally I'll just nurse whoever is awake, while lying down, and we can both fall back asleep pretty quickly while he/she eats. But when it's both of them, I can't use the pillow like I used to, so I try a few different methods and just use the one that makes them the least pissed off. Stacking them one on top of the other has worked in the past, but not anymore because they're getting so heavy that they smoosh each other, so my only other option (that I frantically attempt in the darkness) is to side-lie and nurse one, and then drape the other over the side of my body and just focus on making sure their noses aren't smooshed into my boobs, so they can at least breathe. Not the most comfortable of things in the world to do, but it works. Both babies fall asleep, and eventually, I can too! It's midnight Boobie gymnastics!

Apples, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie!

In my family, we usually have a choice of apple OR pumpkin pie for dessert after Thanksgiving Dinner.  I always have pumpkin pie for dessert, and I save a piece of apple pie to heat up for breakfast the next morning.  Sometimes the apple pie calls to me in the night, and I am forced from my bed to stumble around in the dark for a fork at 3am on Black Friday.  I remember once, when I was a kid, being caught by my Father with my head stuck in the refridgerater as I was testing the pie for "quality assurace" in the middle of the night. Even now, as I write, I am beginning to salivate just thinking about the buttery baked apples and flakey crust melting on my tongue.
In the spirit of giving ... I would like to share my apple pie recipe.  It is a family recipe that I believe to be complete culinary perfection.

APPLE PIE

Preheat oven to 425


For the crust:

MIX the following until "pebbly"-
2  1/4  cups flour
1 cup butter flavor Crisco
2 tablespoons white granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

then ADD
1/4 cup COLD water
1/2 tablespoon white distilled vinegar
mix into a ball.  Do not over mix, cut dough in half to make two balls.
Roll out one ball of dough and place it in pie pan.  Roll out second ball and save for the pie "lid".

For the filling:
12 Macintosh apples (peeled, cored and sliced) ... ONLY Macintosh will do.

in separate bowl MIX:
3/4 cup white granulated sugar
1/4 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon
dash of salt
then mix together with apple slices

Assemble pie:
Put apple mixture into prepared pie shell.  Then chop up 2 tablespoons of butter and "sprinkle" on top of apples.  Place pie crust "lid" on pie. cut some tiny air vents in the crust with a knife.  Put aluminum foil around the edges (only) of pie crust to prevent burning.  Place in oven and bake for 1 hour.  You know it's surely done when you can see bits of the filling bubbling through the "air vents" of the pie crust top.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!

Does it count???

OMG! Quilla rolled over! ... in her sleep though.

Does that count?
I know it's probably way too early ... but she IS really strong.

Much to the surprise of our pediatrician, she started holding her head up on her own at only 2 weeks and started smiling "on purpose" at three weeks.

Is it possible that at only 7w 3d she can roll over?

She did "cook" for almost 42 weeks .... maybe it makes a difference?

hmmmm.....

Downtown Girls

If my boobs could talk, they’d probably tell me they were going to start regulating show times and charging me.  Yup- you guessed it.  I had to whip them out in public again.

Today’s agenda was a trip downtown to the textile district.  In order to save a whole bunch of money on the very extravagant drapes and crib bedding I wanted for the nursery, I ordered the fabric wholesale from Italy and found a guy downtown to make them for me.  I felt brave enough to head downtown alone with Quilla to pick them up today. The last few days she has been taking these long afternoon naps, so when she fell asleep this afternoon, I quickly packed her up in her car seat and jumped in the car.  She slept the whole way to the shop, and she never even flinched as I fastened her car seat onto its stroller base in the parking lot. 

I was so excited to see the finished product.  I had forgotten how beautiful the fabrics I had chosen were as I examined the silk drapes.  Then I realized that the ties on the bumper for the crib had been sewn on the wrong side.  As if she could somehow sense my disappointment, Quilla woke and started to cry.  As her cry escalated, the shop owner tried to explain even louder why he thought that the ties should go where he had sewn them.  If I could have heard him at all, I probably would’ve been annoyed, but all I could hear was my daughter who wanted to be fed, and all I could think was “how fast can I get my boob out?”  

I picked Quilla up, found a chair and a quiet corner, and sat down to feed her.  I faced the wall to try and be as discreet as possible.  It’s so strange to me how breastfeeding freaks some people out.  I’m convinced that the same people who can’t so much as look in my direction and talk to me at the same time while I’m breastfeeding are the same people that go home and order Girls Gone Wild on PayPer View.  It’s so backward! 

Anyway … so, there I was- downtown, hiding amongst spools of fabric as patrons reached around me for trim, tassels and fringe while I alternated which boob I would terrorize someone with next.  It was hot, and I could feel beads of sweat starting to trickle down my back when suddenly I felt something moist on my hand. Apparently, Quilla needed to be fed AND changed.  There was no hiding the poop explosion that had just claimed her new white ruffled skirt.  Crap! …. Literally.
After I finished feeding her, I covered the poopie part of her skirt with her blanket, and asked the shop owner if I could use their restroom.  I grabbed her diaper bag and headed into the tiny 4 x 4 closet that housed the commode and a tiny pedestal sink.  I laid a plastic trash bag on the uneven floor and her diaper-changing pad on top of it.  Quilla didn’t seem to mind as I assured her that “it’s OK honey” and crouched down on the concrete in the dim light to change her.  It was even hotter in the unventilated bathroom than it was out in the shop, and I noticed my face was all red & sweaty as I juggled the baby and washed my hands.  I hoped Quilla didn’t feel as miserable as I did in that moment, or surely she would not be happy for the ride home.  I quickly gathered up the drapes and crib bedding, and hurried to the car before something else happened. 

She fell asleep on the way home!

… thank goodness-

I’m exhausted!

TWIIIIINNNSSS!!!!!!!!!

I've been doing some Christmas shopping for the kids over the last few days while the girls are at Grandma's house. Yesterday, I went to Toys R Us, and, today, I totally scored at the Mattel Headquarters store! I've gotten pretty good about toting the twins around when I'm out and about, but there's no way to stay low-key with twins, and, everywhere I go, somebody has to make a comment.

"Wow, you've got your hands full!" is #1, and as much as I want to say "Yeah, no sh*t!", I usually just smile and say "Yup, I sure do!", little do they know that this is only half of my kids, but I leave that part out so they don't comment further, or give me looks of pity (which is not uncommon). If I'm out with all four and they see the twins, I'll hear "Looks like you went for #3 and got a big surprise, eh?", or some other version of that. The one that I'm most surprised by is, "Are they natural or did you do fertility treatments?" or if I mention what a surprise the babies were, they'll say "Oh, you mean you didn't do IVF?"- not that there's anything wrong with fertility treatments, I just can't believe how bold people can be to a stranger, and I also don't see why it matters? Then there's "Do they run in yours or your husbands family?" and I say "No, they don't run in my family, they do in my husbands though, but it doesn't make a difference because it has nothing to do with the sperm, it's all about how many eggs you drop." They usually look at me a little taken aback, having just been given a somewhat graphic biology lesson by a total stranger, and I think, hmmm... maybe that was TMI? But, it is a common misconception that I want to clear up, it sure shuts them up, and they then seem more than eager to get away from the nutjob, so, I use it a lot... with a smile.

I also get, "Are they boy/girl?" Me, "Yes.", then they ask "Oh, are they identical?". Really?? They're a boy and a girl and they clearly look nothing alike, hello- Mcfly! But, I know some people just don't know. Honestly, I'm kind of a hypocrite for even getting annoyed, because, I'd probably asked that question before having twins. I've had many a blonde moment in my life, and I also know that people are just trying to be nice and start a conversation because they're curious about the twins. It turns out that people are completely fascinated by twins. I had no idea before having them, that this is how it is, and, it happens to all moms of multiples- who knew??

Then, there's the "OMG! OMG! TWIIIINNSSSSSSSS!!!!!!! I WANT TWIIIIINNNSSS!!!!!". This one cracks me up, because I used to be one of these people. I totally wanted twins, but thought I'd surely never have them, so it was more like a "Oh, that'd be cool, but it will never happen." kind of thing. So, I tell these girls (because they're often, like, 17 year olds saying this to me) "I used to say that... and I'd say it again because it IS awesome." and for the teenagers I'll add "But, it's a lot of work, so, wait about 10 years before you have kids." My little PSA for the day.

It really is awesome. That's what I want to say to the people who give me those looks of pity and say "Oh, you poor thing." Really. People say this to me. Sometimes I don't want to give them the pleasure of sounding overly defensive and/or I don't have time to really get into it, so I ignore them. But, if I'm in the mood to set them straight, I ask "Why do you say that?", so they feel uncomfortable for being so rude. Then, they usually mumble something about how hard it must be and walk away. My favorite reaction to my family is when somebody says to me "What a blessing!". Now, I'm about as far from religious as you can get, but that makes me smile, and I usually respond with "Thank you, they really are a blessing!".

When I was at Toys R Us, yesterday, a woman came up to me and started shrieking "OMG- TWIIIINNNSSSS! I WANT TWINS!!! You've got your hands full! Are they identical? Do they run in your family? Did you use IVF?? You poor thing!" I was so shocked that I couldn't think of anything to say- I'm sure my face was priceless. She gave it a moment, then started laughing and said "Sorry, I'm totally kidding. I have twins and I've always wanted to do that to somebody else!". Brilliant! We both had a good laugh and then went about our shopping.

I really should just pass out cards that say:

Yes, I'm aware that I've got my hands full.

They are fraternal boy/girl twins.

No, they don't run in my family,

No, I didn't use fertility treatments,

and, I love my big family.

Pillow Talk

Quilla becomes more delightful with every day.  I can’t believe how fast she is growing!  Now that she is 7 weeks old, she sleeps and eats more regularly, and she is full of smiles for me all the time. 

When she was about 3 weeks old, I had feared she may be a colicky baby.  She was fussy in general most of the time and then from approximately 5pm to 8pm she was nearly inconsolable.  She hardly slept and wanted to eat almost every hour.  Then she would eat too much and would have terrible gas & hiccups, and I would spend hours wearing a path in the floor of my hallway as I bounced & burped her over and over.  What happened to the 3 to 4 hour sleep cycles and then nursing I heard/read about??? I was totally stressed, sleep deprived, and I thought my nipples were literally going to fall off.  I hated that she was always upset and/or in pain, and I felt like a total failure as a mother. 

My husband would be the first to tell you that when I am tired, I can be very cranky.

It finally dawned on me: “if I am sleep deprived, she must be too.”  A friend of mine had given me a book called “Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child” by Marc Weissbluth M.D.  I started to tear through it searching for answers … and got them. 

It turns out that I was unintentionally sleep depriving my baby.  Every time she would “seem” to be waking up (day or night) I would pick her up.  I didn’t realize that if I waited 5 seconds longer, she would doze back off into a deep sleep.  Babies apparently have very short REM sleep cycles, and I was waking her prematurely.

This is what I discovered:  She was cranky because she was tired, so she would cry. Crying would cause her to swallow air, which would cause her to get gas which would make her cry some more. Then she wanted to nurse (too much) to sooth herself which would give her more of a tummy ache, and then she would be so upset that she couldn’t fall asleep….. and the vicious cycle would go on. 

Quilla wasn’t colicky. She was tired! It totally made sense! 

I started making a very conscience effort to make sure she napped more during the day, and that my husband and I didn’t pick her up until she was TOTALLY awake. 

Quilla is a completely different baby now.  She sleeps and eats in 3 – 5 hour cycles at night and takes nice 2 – 3 hour naps during the day.  She has pretty much stopped cluster feeding in the afternoons and early evenings now, and she is rarely fussy.  When she is awake, she is usually full of smiles, and we have such a great time together!

I guess the old wives tale is true: NEVER wake a sleeping baby.

Much Ado...

Upon waking, yesterday, I knew that today, I must:

A. Take a shower.

B. Do my hair because I had gone too many weeks looking like a (the) minivan mom (that I am).

C. Go to Trader Joe's because we are ridiculously low on food.

Tasks that would seem simple to most, but for me, are monumental- and I was determined to succeed!

Before I got to shower, there were basic things around the house that I needed to at least attempt to accomplish. Dishes and laundry are the least favorite of my domestic chores and avoid them like a pool party... so, I wasn't exactly disappointed when the babies woke up from their morning nap in the middle of all that pleasantness. Oh, darn!

I got the babies changed and the kids fed and they all seemed pretty content... so, I thought it was an opportune time to jump in the shower. I normally take lightning-speed, 3 minute showers, but, today I was going to wash my hair of the crusted spit-up it was sporting- so, this shower could possibly take as long as 6 whole minutes! I placed the babies in their Jumperoo entertainment center contraption thingies, the girls seemed content playing with their Barbie's nearby and I asked them "could you please make the babies happy if they fuss while I'm in the shower?", they nodded their heads yes and I thought surely I had just bought myself 10 minutes. Shower time!

I sudsed and scrubbed and was covered in soap and bubbles, enjoying the quiet, when just one minute in... dun dun dun... could it be? Could all four kids be screaming and crying at the same time?! I turned off the water to listen and monitor the level of seriousness. Okay, Bea was quiet, the girls were obviously fighting, and... Atticus sounded almost happy? I think he was actually shrieking in delight! The girls screams began to escalate, so I hopped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, but still managed to trail water down the hall and through the living room. The girls each were white knuckling opposite ends of the same Barbie. "Who had it first?!" I barked at them, "I did!!" They screamed simultaneously. Oh, for Pete's sake. I confiscated the Barbie, stashed it in a high, out of reach cupboard and sent the girls to opposite corners for well deserved time-outs- all while sopping wet, soapy and wrapped in a towel- I then swiftly returned to the still running shower. At this point, enjoying a quiet moment was not an option- rinsing was my goal and rinse I did, but not soon enough. I heard a loud thud in the hall and knew immediately what had happened. Damn it. I didn't wipe up the water in the hall and Aurora had slipped in it and fell. She was now screaming and both Beatrix Atticus picked that moment to start crying, as well. Yes! Pile it on, kids!

After my pathetic attempt at a shower, I made lunch for the girls, while rotating the babies between different contraptions.. I asked the girls if they could sing to the babies while I made their sandwiches, which they did for about 30 seconds. Then, the babies started to fuss (gee, thanks for the help, kids) and it was clear that their big sisters had vanished from the room... and then the house suddenly got quiet... too quiet... and that's when it's time to worry. So, I stopped what I was doing and went to look for them. I could see them both standing very still in the backyard, looking down at something on the grass. Ariel had her hands over her mouth and both had their eyes open wide... "What are you girls looking at?" I asked. Ariel answered "Mom! Token is eating a rat and you can see it's guts!" Aurora added "Yeah, and there's so much blood!". Great. Now I get to clean up shredded rat remains before somebody steps in them... oh, and bathing Token, the devil cat, should probably be put on that list, too.

I knew it wouldn't be easy to maneuver Trader Joe's with the kids, but, why do I always underestimate the difficulty of just getting everybody out of the actual house to go there?? There was no time or energy left for that, nor for the doing-of-hair. There was only time for mommy to take a much needed nap, yes, a na- oh, wait... never mind... well, I got a shower and the cat got a bath. That's impressive. We can eat mac and cheese.

In the Dog House

Every morning when Quilla wakes up, she greats me with the biggest heart-melting toothless grin. Then, after she has eaten and been dressed, I play with her.  Sometimes I sing and dance with/for her, or I kiss her toes and nose and belly while naming the body parts.  She squeals with laughter and encourages me to teach her more. I recently got her a Fisher-Price Rainforest Melodies & Lights Deluxe Gym.  Everyday she spends about two minutes on her belly in it while she learns to pull herself up on her arms and legs for future crawling skills.  Then she spends about 5 to10 minutes in it on her back smiling and waving to all the toys hanging above her.  It’s great fun for both of us.

I have two miniature pinchers.  Pica (the female) is 15 years old, and Jazz (the male) is 16 years old.  They have seemingly adjusted to having a baby in the house extraordinarily well … sort of.  They both “pout” a bit from time to time when my attention cannot be diverted from nursing my child at exactly 5pm to give them their dinner.  Pica is somewhat strangely protective of the baby and won’t let Jazz near her, which is hilarious as he is the more passive of the two little beasts.  I give them both as much love and attention as I can spare these days.  In general, though, they both seem to understand the fact that there is now a tiny fragile little person in the house that needs my undivided attention.

During our morning play time, Jazz discovered the Fisher-Price Rainforest Melodies & Lights Deluxe Gym. He kept trying to lie down inside of it. I really don’t want the doggies cuddling up in Quilla’s gear.  As far as dogs go, they are both pretty “tidy”, but they do lay on the ground in the sun outdoors whenever they want, so I prefer they stick to doggie gear only.  I kept trying to shoo him away gently from the gym with my foot as I was holding the baby, but the harder I tried to get my point across, the more stubborn he became.  I would finally get him to “exit” one side of the gym and he would then quickly enter the other side and lay down in it.  Finally, I said, “Jazz, No!” and reached down to push him away with my left hand as I balanced Quilla with my right arm. He got up, walked to the corner of the green gym blanket floor pad, and then lifted his leg on the yellow giraffe while looking up at me defiantly as if to say: “ I’ll go, but I won’t go quietly! ”  Yup - He’ll probably need therapy for the gym I never gave him when he was young.

Today's Forecast: Golden showers in the rainforest.

Bread And Circus

Yesterday was Veterans Day, so that meant that Ariel had the day off from school, but, Aurora still had her gymnastics class in the morning. So, all 5 of us piled into the spaceship and zipped to it. Thankfully, there are some awesome mama's there who are willing to help me out by holding a baby when they both want attention. We spent most of the time talking baby wearing, strollers, breastfeeding and sleep issues, ya know, typical mommy chatter... which I love. It's funny how that happens, once you become a mom. Suddenly your favorite topics of conversation are the contraptions in which you transport your child, what you feed your child, how your child sleeps, and the color and consistency of their poop. Yup.

After class, I had to go to the mall to make a return. Hmmm... was I really up for this challenge? I'd done it alone before, but not after already having had an activity in the morning, maybe it would be too much... but, the kids were hungry and food was low at the house, so, it was really between the mall where we could have a quick lunch by the pretty sea shell fountain, or Trader Joe's... where I would spend half the time removing random items from my cart that the girls think we can't live without... one baby strapped to me, another in their car seat in the cart, and a 5 and 3 year old walking in different directions.... Aurora chiming "Mommy! Are these happy chickens?" while pointing to, and balancing, precariously, a carton of eggs in her tiny arms... Ariel raiding the sample counter nearby-- um... mall it was!

How I ended up spending nearly 2 hours in the mall, and made it out alive, is still a mystery. I think a soundtrack of circus music following me around everywhere I go would be appropriate, considering all of the looks of shock and awe I get whenever I attempt such an adventure alone with the whole crew. First, we ate. Sweet potato fries, quesadillas, and a veggie wrap atTacone's. Yummy! Then the girls had to go potty, which, let me tell you, is fun stuff when you've got 4 kids. Luckily, the big stall was open, so I could park the stroller inside while I helped the girls and made sure they didn't touch anything gross. Then, when they were done, I made sure everybody was out of the stall before flushing with my foot and hopping out because toilet water sprays up to 15 feet when flushed- big eew. Then it was hand washing time and a nice lady held the door for us and we were done. Whew.!

Then, we headed to Pottery Barn Kids because... it's kind of like an indoor playground, right? After a little while in there, we then went to a large craft table that was set up in the middle of the mall and the girls made cornucopia's out of paper, stickers and yarn. The babies had been rotating from stroller to Ergo all the while, so I could feed them and walk, which saves time. I even met a twin-mommy-to-be who took my stroller for a test spin to see if it's the one she wants to get. I swear, I should be a spokesperson for the Baby Jogger City Select Double stroller- I'm obsessed with it and I think I've convinced just about everybody I've met to get one. I find myself getting a little too excited to tell them about all of its features and even offering demonstrations like a crazy person!

I knew it was time to go when I noticed that Aurora had no shoes on, and I honestly couldn't remember how long she had been walking barefoot through the mall... though she had them on in the bathroom, they were now in the basket underneath the stroller... yup, mom of the year!

The Crying Game

Yesterday I finally got to Trader Joes to grocery shop.  It was the first time Quilla (6 weeks old) has been with me for a proper grocery shop for something other than just laundry soap. On the way there she was content just to enjoy the nearly 10 minute ride and the music I was playing.  Once we got to the grocery store, I put her car seat (with her in it) in the grocery cart securely and kept my fingers crossed that she wouldn’t start to howl the moment I began to fill the cart.  She was such an angel!  She had everyone who passed by us oooing and aahhing at her as she made the sweetest little faces, smiles and sounds.  I shopped rather quickly as I felt like Cinderella at 11:55pm: the spell could break at any moment.  As I was getting her situated back in the car, she started sticking her tongue out at me and smiling (so cute!)which, of course, means “Mommy, It’s boobie time”.  As we were SO close, I thought I could probably make it home to nurse her before she got upset.  

I was wrong. We almost made it. About 8 blocks from home she started to fuss a little. 

I tried to keep her happy by whistling and singing, but exactly 3 blocks from home she started to SCREAM.  Never before had I heard this shrill sound come from my child.  I quickly pulled over in front of an expired meter on the side of the road, and hopped in the back seat with her to pick her up, calm her down, and feed her. As I mopped up big crocodile tears off her pink little face and nursed her, I realized it was after 4pm.  Metered parking after 4pm on this street is illegal and I would surely be ticketed.  As much as this bothered me, I would rather be ticketed than allow my child to cry.  Luckily, yesterday was Veterans Day.  Raven would be home.  So, I called my husband to have him walk over and drive us home before I got a parking ticket. No harm done.

I am not on board with letting my child “cry it out”.  No one should be!  While this was the school of thought back when our Grandmothers were changing diapers, we now know that this is about as ridiculous as drinking alcohol & smoking while pregnant.  Studies show that excessive crying releases adrenalin into the baby’s system, which can lead to future neurological disorders.  Additionally, infants who are left to cry it out are TEN times more likely to have ADHD.  Parents who leave their babies to cry are simply paving the road for an insecure, anti-social, and sometimes event violent child.  We will not spoil our children by picking them up when they cry.  Instead, we are provoking social and communicative skills - "When I cry, my Mommy responds."

An infant’s only mode of communication is to cry and let us know that he/she needs something essential like nourishment, burping to relieve stomach pain, a diaper change, or simply to be held and comforted.  Shame on any parent who does not respond as soon as possible to this cry and meet their baby’s needs! In my opinion, this is gross negligence, and, in fact, child abuse.

In the case of a colicky child, the baby may not be able to be consoled, but this still does not mean the child should be left alone to scream. 
Sometimes it's really hard to figure out why your baby is crying. As  mom with a baby who is prone to tummy troubles, I know how frustrating that can be.  I just ordered  Dunstan Baby Language -- Learn the universal language of newborn babies and also Baby - Baby Sign Language (ASL) Training Video. I'm hoping that by teaching her how to tell me what she needs, I can cut the crying down to an extreme minimum.

All I'm saying is: Bottom line - LOVE your baby: don’t let your child cry.

‘Nough said.

For more on this topic, please see:

http://www.drmomma.org/2009/12/excessive-crying-harmful-to-babies.html

Drink up ye hearties, yo ho!

Sleep is very precious to me and these days, as it's extremely difficult to come by. So, when I finally have all of the kids to sleep and when my head FINALLY hits the pillow, it is truly a joyous moment. I co-sleep with the babies, which makes night feedings way more convenient, but, I have to be careful about not waking them. Last night, as usual, I got into bed and slowly, quietly, got into a comfortable position, as not to disturb the little darlings in their sweet slumber. Just as I got settled in, I heard the wood floors creak in the hallway, and I knew what was coming. Damn it. Our cat Pirate is like a dog... well, actually, all of our cats are like dogs in their own irritating little way, but Pirate is an especially (annoyingly) friendly cat. Is it too much to ask for a cat that acts like a cat?? I want an indifferent, aloof, a**hole of a creature that will notice you every now and then for the occasional head scratching, but is otherwise completely uninterested in the human race... but, I digress...

So, last night, Pirate decided that he wanted to cuddle and nudge not only me, but the sleeping babies in my bed. He kept trying to walk ON them and was nudging their heads with his cold wet nose and he couldn't have been any more determined! I would pull him by the scruff and he'd happily collapse into my arm and start back on nudging me while purring and kneading my face with his needle claws. I was trying so desperately to keep him quiet, it was like a silent wrestling match with a fluffy orange monkey-cat! I kept pushing him off the bed, but, like flubber, he was right back on! Over, and over, and over again!! I couldn't close the door because I had to listen for the girls. I was having fantasies about furry orange hats and winter moccasins for the kids... but I settled on scooping him up and locking him outside. I'm feeling a little guilt about it now... but last night, I felt completely justified.

After getting stalker-cat out of the house, I got settled into bed, once again, and fell asleep at about midnight . For 20 minutes. Then, Atticus woke up to eat and I fell asleep at about 1. For about an hour, because Beatrix woke up at 2. I fell back asleep at about 3, but, Atticus woke up again to eat at 4, conveniently when Ariel decided that she was going to scream in terror because she had a bad dream about "Bad trees, and a superhero that came down to take the bad trees to the 'Bad Tree World' ". Nice. So, Atticus was (of course) now wide awake, and spent the next 90 minutes smiling and staring at me in the semi-darkness. After pacing the house with him in my arms for what seemed an eternity, he fell asleep at about 5:30 am, and I crawled into bed, completely knackered... only to have Aurora come in at 6am, ready to start the day!

I really should buy stock in coffee.

“I won’t think about that now … I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

Today has been a day in the trenches of the utmost stench. I stepped in barf - twice, my whole house stunk like dirty laundry and fish from a mystery item in my mounting pile of dishes in the sink, and my sweet little angel had a diaper explosion so gi-normous that I will have to permanently retire the outfit she was wearing.  I will also need to get the cover of her My Little Lamb bouncy chair in the wash ASAP as it fell victim to the contents of my daughter’s diaper as well.  I’d better get on that STAT as it is her favorite activity/place to sleep at the moment. My baby puked more, and went through more wardrobe changes today than Lindsay Lohan.  Poor little thing!

Getting a load of wash in at my home is no easy task though. Outside of the fact that I already have my hands full today, whatever genius built our house thought it would be cool to have the laundry room all the way out by the unattached garage.  Clearly, the architect was not a mother with children.  We recently started some construction to implement a laundry room inside the house, but it is not finished yet.

My goal for today was to finally get to the grocery store since I have practically been living off Balance Bars and fruit from the trees in the front yard for 2 days now.  However, I refuse to buy fresh food until I have a chance to clean up that filthy kitchen.

I never did get to the store today.  Quilla was having bad reflux and couldn’t be put down to take a nap.  The only way she could fall asleep without choking would’ve been either in her lamby chair (now out of order), her Starlight Papasan Cradle Swing, or on my shoulder.  She finally passed out on my shoulder around 5pm.  I tiptoed back to the nursery and gently sat her in her swing for a well-deserved nap. Moments later, my darling husband decided (without consulting with me first) that it was a good time to start tinkering around with his 1967 Dodge Dart which is parked about 20 feet from the outside of the north side windows of the nursery.  Of course, this entailed firing up some sort of obnoxiously loud power tool that promptly jolted Quilla from her sweet dreams of golden boobies full of only the sweetest breast milk.  I nearly lost my mind.

By 6pm I finally got her back to sleep, and carefully propped her up on the Luna Lullaby Bosom-Baby pillow on our double width chaise lounge where she was finally able to surrender to la-la land.

It’s now 10pm.  I’m halfway through the laundry pile, almost finished with the kitchen situation, and I am burning a tea rose candle.

Alas, I suppose I shall order takeout…again.  Can I get a side of “power nap for mommy” with that?

Quilla is still asleep. Which means, of course, we will be awake most the night … but smelling the roses.

(Insert Evil Laugh Here)

I love my gardener, Sylvestre. Why I was previously so stubborn and determined to do all my own yard and house work is beyond me! Maybe because as a teenager, it was one of my weekly chores at home, to mow and edge the lawn, and I was always just used to doing it? It takes less than an hour and can be strangely therapeutic, same with vacuuming- I love to vacuum! Is that odd? The only thing that stopped me in my tracks was bed rest when I was put on bed rest while pregnant with the twins. When that happened, we got a maid and a gardener and the girls went to stay with Grandma when daddy worked because my bed rest was strict as could be. Who says stay-at-home-moms don't do anything? If my bed rest resulted in the hiring of housekeepers, gardeners and (basically) a childcare provider, then nobody can tell me that staying home and taking care of the house and kids isn't a job. Hmph! So, once I was able to move around again after my C-section, maybe at a month postpartum, we sadly let the maids go... but I just couldn't let go of our gardener- I had to have at the very least the outside of our house looking like I had my sh*t together, and the inside... well... I'd work on that.

Our yard looks better than anything I ever did to it, and I don't get the strange looks anymore when I'm running the mower along our front lawn with a huge belly... like I did while I was up to 9 months pregnant with Aurora. Even while sans belly- I would still feel like an oddball! I really don't see what's so strange about a person maintaining their own lawn, if it weren't for my sudden gaggle of kids, I'd still be at it! But.... I can get used to Sylvestre... okay, fine- I AM used to Sylvestre and hope to never mow another lawn again! Muahahahahaha!

Just throw 'em in a basket in the back seat!

So, the babies are growing fast. They're almost 6 months and, Bea, my little butterball turkey is now almost 18 lbs and Atticus is a solid 16 lbs of lean muscle, and I am proud to say that it's been 100% breastmilk! So, they're getting way too heavy to carry around in their infant seats and I'm debating upgrading them to the girls old Britax Marathons soon. The older girls recently got new Sunshine Radian XTSL seats (in Flora, sooo puuurty), and we've been using the Marathons in Grandma's car for when they visit over there. One of the seats is a flower print, the other is a moo-cow print, so they're perfect B/G patterns for the twins. My issue here is this: carseats expire! Drat! The flower print seat is expiring in February 2011, so, not long to go, and the cow is in April of 2012, so that one's got some time. I'm so not in the mood to spend another $300 on a new car seat or two, but it must be done. So, naturally, I've been obsessing over car seat crash test videos and reviews which really, are just making me never want to drive again. Ever. In fact, I think I will just keep my kids in a big plastic bubble and never let them out of the house again after watching those videos… but I have been known to be overly paranoid…

So, it's really down to the Marathons or Radians. I love how narrow the radians are, and I could fit 3 across the back seat of the spaceship (AKA Honda Odyssey) if need be, but the Marathons are so cushy and comfy (but wide). Another issue will be that I would now have to unbuckle and unload the babies every time we get out of the car, rather than carry in the bucket seats that hold the sleeping babies... hmmm... maybe I’m putting waaaay too much thought into this…

Kissing or Cow?

Charlotte has ventured into the phase where she likes to imitate sounds and motions! I love this phase! She's clapping, she's waving...so much fun. About a week ago she started to make this kissing noise. So cute! I was enamored with my little bundle of joy blowing me kisses. I told everyone..."my daughter blows kisses!" *swoon*
Shortly after this new marvelous event began, a discovery was made. My husband came home from work one night doing something he is very good at...chomping on his gum like a cow in a pasture. In response to his loud smacking, Charlotte began to blow kisses! Wait...she's not blowing kisses! She's imitating my husband's horrible gum chewing sound! So sad. I guess I will have to wait a little longer to get my kiss. For now, I'm stuck with 2 cows in the room!

just call me “Spankie”

Around 7pm last night the UPS man (my personal Santa) threw packages over the front gate.  With all the excitement of a 5 year old on Christmas morning, I rushed out into the front yard to see what arrived. 

I was expecting a blue Nap Nanny that I had ordered a while back for Quilla.  She seems to have reflux, and I thought this sort of baby recliner would be great for her so that she wouldn’t be flat on her back as often when napping.  I got a really great deal on it too!  I found it on Amazon for only 49.99!  Normally, they go for $135 or more, so I was really pleased with my purchase. 

I was also expecting a postpartum belly cincher contraption thingy that a nurse at the hospital where I had Quilla told me I should get because it would help me to get back my model figure by Christmas.  Yay!

As I scrambled out into the dark I found 2 packages.  The first one was definitely my new postpartum belly cincher contraption thingy.  Skinny jeans, here I come!  Yippy!

The second one was WAY too small to be the Nap Nanny, so I thought: “oh, how exciting! Something I forgot I ordered!”  I love surprises.

I decided to open the small mysterious package first.  Guess what it was? The Nap Nanny   …. COVER!!!!!  No!  That’s why it was so cheap.  I didn’t buy the Nap Nanny …. I bought the Nap Nanny COVER.  Crap.  I should’ve known that a “deal” like that was too good to be true!

The second package was, in fact, the postpartum belly cincher contraption thingy. 

It was more like Spanx, or actually an extreme girdle, or skin tight, elastic & spandex, flesh colored Capri pants that both zipper and hook up the side for added control measure.  HHHHmmmm …..  Now that I am six weeks post partum, the doctor has green-lighted me to resume adult “extracurricular” activities, but somehow I don’t think these granny panties are gonna do it for my patient husband.  My goodness!  Bridget Jones’ undergarments have nothing on this chastity-belt-inspired piece of equipment!  Despite my horror, and with my size 4 little black Prada dress in mind, I started to struggle into the second skin material. I stood in front of the full-length mirror and laughed … and cried.  Suddenly, I realized there was a breeze “down under”.  Holly Moley!  The granny panties are crotchless!

Maybe the postpartum belly cincher contraption thingy has some redeeming qualities after all! 

Perhaps tonight I will ask my husband to keep lights off and to just call me “Spankie”.