Saturday, April 19, 2014

Oh my...

So I promised funny (read: gross, disgusting, hilarious, and frightful)...I hope I give you funny.

Mama Fail...oh it is such a  fail:
The other day the boys and I were out front playing in the street. No I am not a horrible mother (ahem), we live on a quiet cul-de-sac at the end of the street. The boys are pushing around over sized trucks and Bear is lounging in the sun on our neighbors lawn. Quiet and lovely.

Our neighbor comes home with her son and then we are all playing/talking together. Neighbor's son is kind of in love with Bear and so we are watching him closely as he interacts with the kids. It is soon evident that Bear has done his afternoon business and I run to clean it up before any of the kids get to it. Ahhh, now we can relax a bit.

Boys are all playing...neighborhood kids are coming down to the end of the street to play too. I'm in the process of swinging one of the older (5 years old) girls by her arms and answering a barrage of questions from her twin sister. Not paying attention to anything but these two for a bit. Never mind, awesome neighbor is controlling the boys, her son, and Bear. Girls' mom comes down the street to chat with us and make sure everyone is behaving. And we all start talking and having a lovely conversation (stay with me, the good part is coming).

I scan an eye around (as always) to keep both boys within my line of sight. James is behind me and John is across the street in the neighbors lawn, sitting down, quietly playing with a truck. Ahh life is good. Mom conversation with neighbors, kids playing nicely with each other, you know this can't last.

Awesome neighbor mom goes over to John because her son is much bigger than my boys (although still a toddler himself) and she is always watching him to make sure he plays gently. She kind of shouts over to me, "Um Mel." "Yea", I reply. "You might want to come over here", she says eerily. "John has gotten in to some of Bear's, um, stuff." I freeze and say "You're kidding me right?" "Nope, you need to come here, it's all over him." "Oh.My.God." I practically drop the 5 year old neighbor girl who I am still swinging around and go running over. John is covered in poop. POOP! It's on his hands, shirt, shoes, shorts, legs...everywhere but his face thank god. I just, just, don't know what to do. I stand there staring at him. Luckily James is still over by the house and awesome neighbor has a hold of her son. I have no idea what neighbor mom with twin girls is doing because I have lost the ability to think, hear, or see anything other than John covered with poop.

I manage to find two handholds that are fairly clean and make the 100 feet trek back to our driveway holding John out at arms length. I smile at pretty neighbor lady with her two sweet girls and meekly say "Ah motherhood, so glamorous." She really really struggles to not make a disgusted face. I remember that I have a pile of wet ones in the car and go to grab a packet. What I thought one flimsy little wet one would do in this situation is beyond me. It barely cleans one finger off. I drop John at the hose, turn it on to jet spray mode and strip him down. I am ever so careful to fold poop covered shirt in on itself to prevent from spreading in to his hair. Shorts and shoes get stripped. The hose goes on full blast. He stinks, oh man does he stink. There is nothing else that smells like dog poop. And this is it. I spray this poor baby with the cold water hose on jet spray and (pardon my french) shit goes flying. This stuff is sticky and stuck and I have to jet hose John down for a good 5 minutes before he is "ok to go in the house" clean. In the process I am getting spattered and splashed, chunks of poop are flying off and floating down the driveway....all the while my neighbors stare on in what I can only assume is awe and disgust. Eventually they do the kind thing and usher their children away "Don't look kids, it's too awful" and go home. James by now has figured something cool is going on because I have the hose on. Of course he wants to play in the water too. Oh joy. James is playing in poop run off water. Wonderful. John is standing there in shock from the cold hose jet spray that just assaulted him. Standing sopping wet in his diaper shivering and I am just trying to keep James away. I cross my fingers, pick up John and bring him inside the house. He is screaming by now because he is cold, tired, and dammit it's dinner time. "Never mind the poop crisis, I'm hungry!"

I run back out to get James (god knows where Bear is during all of this). He seems to be relatively clean but shoes are covered in poop water, so I strip him down to diaper for good measure only to find it sagging down to his knees full of, you guessed it, poop. I nearly cry, but don't have time for that nonsense. I cross my finger that he has not learned to take his diaper off, drop him in the house to join the chorus of screams. I run back out to deal with poopocalypse. If I don't deal with it right away, I will forget. I need to deal with poop covered driveway, truck toy, clothes, shoes and pile of crap still remaining on neighbors lawn. I run over, clean up pile, I come back to hose down driveway and toy truck with hose still on jet spray. Not a good idea. Jet spray causes things to spatter and fly...I am now probably more disgusting than the boys. Ugh. Mind you all the while, I still have no idea where Bear is and I can hear the plaintive screams from the still dripping wet and cold boys inside.

Kicking all of the toys, pile of poop clothes, and wet ones debris in to the garage...I go hunt for Bear. Luckily for him he obeys my calls (it's dinner time after all) and eagerly runs in to the house. I close the garage door, contained. Chaos is at least contained. I strip down myself...no, not sexy, remember...still covered in poop water spatter. I grab both boys and wash us all down with hot water towels. Of course there is no time for a full bath right now because, remember, dinner time. The screams are still coming and now I have a barking dog begging for food too.

Wishing with all my might that my boys have magically learned to use utensils instead of their hands to eat, I plop them down in their highchairs praying they are clean enough. Some type of edible food is shoved at them. I run upstairs to get dressed and do a quick scan for anything disturbing..."good enough, I think.", start the bath for the boys and run back downstairs. We make it through dinner and as I usher the kids up for a much needed and well deserved bath, I can't help bu notice James's diaper and it's contents which are no longer contained. Seriously! After a 20 wipes wipe down 2 nakey babies go running up the stairs for a bath.

Later that evening after boiling myself in the shower I reminisced over the events of the day. I can only imagine what the neighbors must think of this hillbilly mid-western family. Luckily I had wine in the house and that helped a little. In addition, I have amazing neighbors, who are somehow able to put crazy days like this aside and still look me in the eye the next time we run in to each other. I knew raising these two little boys would have it's "interesting" moments, but honestly I pictured something more along the lines of mud pies and bringing worms in the house. That I can handle.

Now, anyone who asks "what does a stay at home mom do all day?" Here is your answer....and that was just 20 minutes of my day.

Mama win:
I took twin 18 month old boys to the mall, by myself, to get their picture taken with the Easter bunny. I dropped them in the bunny's lap, made sure he had a hold of these screaming writhing children, and dove off camera like an action movie stunt man, screaming "Just take the picture." Attached is the beautiful result, to be cherished for years.

Luckily this is the only part of my post I have captured in photograph.



Tuesday, April 8, 2014

And then there is reality

So I have been reviewing my FB posts lately and I'm doing the thing I always dreaded doing. Posting pictures and tales of a super mom. Building forts, water play, home made edible sandbox, etc. Bleh. I mean yes, I DID do these things. And the boys DID have fun (and secretly so did I). However not of all of these "supermom" activities turned out so great in the long run. Of course I didn't post on FB the failure of these activities. So here I present to you the supermom on FB...reality.

Mama win -
So we buy a lot of stuff on Amazon. A LOT. Thank you Amazon Prime. This = a lot of  cardboard boxes. Normally we just break down and recycle, but the boys are getting to an age where cardboard boxes are the best thing in the world. So I go online and find ways to turn cardboard boxes into amazing things.

Mama fail -
Super awesome town map. This looks like so much fun. You make this little contained town and draw roads and schools and lakes and stuff all over it. The boys are totally in to cars right now, so I think this is perfect. I'm picturing the boys pushing the cars and trucks along the roads and I even put a lot of their toy animals in the "zoo area". So much fun.
The boys wake up from their morning nap and kind of stare at this new brown blob of a thing in their play room. They run over to it. Throw most of the "staged" cars and animals out of the box. Keep one car in and drive it over each other instead of along the roads. In addition, milk is spilled all over the "map", Bear the dog jumps in on the fun and crushes most of the "town limit" edges, and these same edges quickly become much hated tripping hazards. Next few days the "town" sits in the room against the wall and becomes the place where we throw everything at night when we "clean up." Sigh.

Mama fail -
Same said box. Since above plan was such a failure I decided to try and do something more fun with this giant cardboard monstrosity in our house. I find this idea for a fort. Of course in the picture it's one lonely toddler playing with all of his toys in the fort. Having a grand old time while mom snaps pics. Ah hah! If one lonely toddler can have fun in this smaller fort...two toddlers should have just as much fun (if not more) in this bigger fort. So I rearrange construction of box. Lots of packing tape is involved. I quickly realize that I am no architect or civil engineer. And I need support beams and buttresses to make this thing stand. I decide instead to just use more tape and start taping the fort to pieces of furniture. Hoping the meager support system will withstand two toddler boys.
Nap time is over, mom is giddy with excitement over all of the additions to the fort (like glow sticks hanging from ceiling, survivor bandanna as a entrance flap on one end, cut up old t-shirt fragments covering the entrance on the other end) so I race the boys down the stairs to squeal with glee. They mostly just stare and will not enter the fort. James clings to me, John is giving the whole thing the shifty eye. Eventually they decide to hit the outside to make sure it's not alive or something (I don't know, I don't understand toddler logic). They discover a weak point. Decide it would be more fun to climb on the fort than go in it. And the whole damn thing collapses within minutes of it's unveiling. Eventually I get it back to some semblance of a rectangular shape and shove the boys inside. John pulls down the glow sticks and starts chewing on them and James screams and tries to crawl back out, but keeps hitting the hanging t-shirt fragments and is "stuck" and is in total melt down. From then on, the "fort" has become a collapsed box that they crawl on, wrestle on, and drive cars over. Days later it is not even that. Trash. Sigh.

***Lesson learned...cardboard boxes are much more fun "as is." Do not attempt to alter the perfection of the cardboard box.***

Mama win - I am desperate to get John  to eat. Not only is he a typical picky toddler, but he is on the run all of the time. No time to sit still to eat mama...you crazy. So I'm trying to come up with fun ways to get John to eat. I see this wonderful idea for an edible sandbox. Fill some largish container with oats (the sand) and hide food in the "sand" for them to find. Add measuring cups and spoons for the boys to sift and pour the "sand." I find this over-sized aluminum turkey pan and think that is great. Add oats, add raisins, craisins, goldfish of all variety, and yogurt melts. This will give them such fun I think. What a great idea.

Mama fail - Bring it all outside hand them milk and show them the sandbox. I put it up on a chair so that it is the perfect height for them. James immediately sees there is food in there and is going to town on the goldlfish. John quickly learns that Bear the dog likes everything in this "sandbox" and decides a more fun game is to scoop out everything with treats and all and just throw it on the ground in our backyard. Bear is having a field day. John is squealing with delight and is covered in oats, but hasn't eaten a bite. James could care less about the fun factor of this and is just mowing down on all of the goldfish he can find. Soon I realize that this could get seriously messy if one of them figures out they can lift the pan. Ever the resourceful one , I find more packing tape and tape the pan to the chair. This royally annoys both boys and they refuse to play with the "sandbox" further. Sigh, so I remove the tape, go inside to throw it away and upon my return, John is standing with an empty pan, Bear is covered in oats and raisins, and James is sitting on the ground eating goldfish off of the cement. Sigh.

Mama win - This is a different kind of mama tale. I am not only mama to twin boys, but to a 60lb mutt and a 8lb cat. Both have been pushed to the side since the boys have arrived and pet guilt rears its head from time to time. So recently a friend posted on FB this wonderful recipe for home made dog treats. Amazingly I have all of the ingredients to make these treats and a free evening to do so. Huzzah!

Mama fail - Treats have few ingredients and are easy to make, but batter turns out to be concrete if not cleaned within seconds of preparing and baking. Two days later I am still scraping batter off of my counter and am considering throwing away the baking pans used to bake these things. Funny thing is, as concrete-ish as the batter is, the actual treats are quite moist (shudder, I hate that word) even after baking. Recipe says they will keep for up to 2 weeks. Perfect. My dog only responds to food for training, so these should go quickly. About a week after making these things I am trying to get Bear to eat one because he keeps chasing the boys around (they are running with food in their hands because, ya know, god forbid they eat the food when it is much more fun to tease the dog with it). So Bear takes the treat and spits it out (he has gobbled them up in the past). Well I don't want the boys eating this treat so I am kind of forcing Bear to eat it, while pushing away what seems to be a mass of toddlers. Eventually he does eat it. Life goes on. Two days later I go to grab a treat for Bear and quickly realize they are no longer good. They are covered with mold. Every single piece. They are so covered with mold, that I'm sure the mold has been there for days. And poor Bear has been forced to eat moldy home made treat things for the past few days. Damn. Apparently "store for up to two weeks" meant, in the fridge. Sigh.

Teaser alert...I have one more insanely funny story to tell you. But it has nothing to do with FB supermomming and it will be a long post. The day has been a long one and my wine glass is getting empty. This will have to do for now. Hope you enjoyed the read. More to come...

John chewing on glow stick behind t-shirt strips

Bandanna flap entrance, you can see shoddy construction

Who wouldn't want to play in this awesome fort?!

Edible sandbox, notice Bear under the chair cleaning up.

Boys could care less about the "town". James just wants me out!

Super awesome town map. Notice roads, round about, and zoo.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

For those of you who have suffered

This post is a long time coming. Not because I have been collecting my thoughts or because I was afraid to talk. No, I was just too dang busy living my crazy life. So, spoiler alert - everything turns out fine in the end. To get the story before that...read on.

This is a tale of guilt, regret, joy, pain, tears, laughter, and total and utter fear. This is a tale of having twins and not being ready. This is a tale of having no clue what I was doing or going through. This is a tale of Postpartum Depression (PPD) to some extent, but there is another side that is not as well known. Postpartum Anxiety (PPA) and panic and rage. I know PPD is taboo in some circles (why, I do not know), but at least it is known. PPA and the panic and rage that goes with it, is not known...or at least is not known as well.

A bit of my history: Jay and I went through a long journey to get pregnant. Because of my history of Hodgkin's Lymphoma and Chemotherapy we were not sure if I was going to be able to get pregnant at all. Luckily we were able to conceive with the help of modern medicine. We did not do IVF, but one step below that, IUI. We needed help and in the process I had to be on a lot of medication. I tell you this because I was warned (by an amazing friend of mine) that women who go through fertility treatments have a higher incidence of PPD/PPA - due to the extra hormones during treatment I guess. Of course at the time I stored it in the back of my brain as "interesting, but ain't gonna happen to me." I don't know why I was in denial on this so early on...I had suffered through situational depression before (after chemotherapy)...I really should have been watching for this. But again, this wasn't traditional depression. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. It reared it's ugly head in a way I couldn't predict.

Looking back on what I went through it was so obvious I was having issues. But a lot of them were only seen or known by me. Those loved ones that saw the outside stuff probably just thought I was a seriously stressed out and sleep deprived mama. Maybe some of you knew? I know my husband finally stepped up and said something to me. That is what eventually opened my eyes.

I had troubles with the pregnancy and postpartum in general. Sure I was happy to be pregnant, but there were so many things going on that I did not picture when we decided to have a kid.
We got pregnant in a lab.
I was poked and prodded every week for the first 12 weeks of pregnancy - blood tests, ultrasounds, etc.
Surprise you're having twins.
We found out we were pregnant by a blood test and a phone call, not the pee stick and a private surprise moment with my husband.
I was on "no exercise" restrictions for the first 12 weeks.
I gained 25 pounds in the FIRST 12 weeks.
I never went through a cute pregnant phase. I went from kind of looking swollen and bloated - to huge!
I couldn't deliver...I was going to have a c-section.
I wasn't going to make it 40 weeks...38 at the most.
I was on modified bed rest from 32 weeks on.
My legs were tree trunks for the last 2 months (ok, this may be a general pregger thing, but I was still angry about it).
Anyway, all of these things combined left me a bit resentful and stressed during most of my pregnancy. Not a great way to spend 38 weeks.

Then the boys were born. And they were healthy. Huzzah! We delivered at a hospital that took a hard line on the family staying together in the hospital room and the no bottle method was strictly enforced. Therefore we were immediately sleep deprived and I was still recovering from a major abdominal surgery while learning to breast feed twins. Of course my body couldn't keep up with them and before we even left the hospital we had to start supplementing. Another disappointment - I would not be feeding my boys "naturally." Almost immediately it was evident that our boys had some serious spit up/reflux issues, but it seriously took 4 months to diagnose. Why? Because we didn't know any better. In addition to everything else that a new parent (of twins) goes through, my c-section incision wasn't healing well, I was trying to do too much, and next thing you know...my incision had opened up and I had a hematoma forming throughout my incision. This lead to some of the most painful moments of my life. I had to get the wound cleaned out and go to wound care every other day. I had to get the wound packed and cleaned at each session. I was constantly bleeding or being afraid of doing more damage. I couldn't sit, lay down, or hold my babies without extreme pain. Breast feeding at all was not an option. So then came the pump. That stupid evil pump.

I was so very very very tired. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, I was constipated from the pain pills, I was on antibiotics that made me nauseous. My wound dressing smelled all the time. I was covered in spit up all the time. Our twins were on a 1.5 hour wake/feeding schedule on their own. They were fussy babies. They were reflux babies. I was "sleeping" in a recliner for over a month. My damned legs, feet, and ankles were still swollen. And the pump. Oh that damned pump. I was determined to give my boys some breast milk, even if it wasn't directly from me. I would sit at that pump while my exhausted husband dealt with not only helping to feed one of the babies, but also change the screaming babies. They screamed a lot, all the time. He resorted to ear plugs for diaper changes to keep his sanity. That pump just added that much more time and effort to our feeding routine which only allowed us 45 minutes of sleep by the time each kid was fed, burped, changed, and all of the pump crap and bottles were cleaned.

Why do I tell you all of this...not to complain...but to give you an idea of where we were as a family. Where we were as a couple. And where I was as a mom and person. Through all of this I was miserable. I didn't coo and aww at my babies. I didn't like them. I was fiercely protective of them and fearful of them getting sick, but I didn't like them and didn't know if I loved them. And there is the guilt on top of everything else.

I cried a lot. In private mostly...sometimes in front of my husband. I told my babies as I was feeding them what a horrible mother they had. I had no patience with them. I got frustrated very easily. As I was alone in our room pumping, I would often really truly believe that my life was over. I would get so very angry whenever they would wake up from their nap or cry for some unknown reason. Or not go down for their nap. Or not sleep for anything longer than 45 minutes. Or dear god when they kept spitting up - and they were spitting up the breast milk that I had pumped for them. I would get so angry. And I could not separate my anger from them. I threw things at walls (usually pacifiers that my boys would not take to stop crying), I punched the floors as I was sitting there trying to feed them and they were just crying and crying and spitting up every where. I would scream, a lot, usually in to a pillow. I had no hope. I felt as if I were in a nightmare. I asked myself horrible questions like "why did we do this?" and "Is there a way out?" I really felt (although logic defied this) as if we were going to be stuck in this infant hell forever.

On top of all of this anger there was fear and anxiety. My boys hated their car seats, the stroller, the swing, and the pacifier. There was no comforting these boys - in a traditional sense. I could not get out of the house for long walks because they would scream the entire time. We could not put them in the car seats and go for a drive to quiet them because they would scream the whole time. I could not put one in the swing to just swing to sleep, because they hated it unless you were constantly entertaining them. We had to be ON and IT for them all of the time. I dreaded every moment they were awake. I was so tired at the end of the day that I just wanted to go to bed, but I also hated the nights, because I would have to do everything the same as in the day...except in the dark and quietly.

I asked for advice and told my story. Often people would say to get out of the house. Go for a walk. Try a teether. Little did they know that none of this worked. After 4 months of this insanity something had to change. I went for a walk with another twins mom and one of my boys screamed the entire time. The entire 45 minute walk. I would have called it a loss earlier than that, but we were doing an "out and back" walk and the only option I had was to continue on to make it home. By then end of that walk, my nerves were fried. The mom I was walking with was getting out with friends, working out, going back to work and seemed in very good spirits. Her boys took their pacifiers, loved the stroller, and generally seemed like happy babies. This information on top of severe exhaustion, fried brain and nerves, and the (now obvious) depression and anxiety finally broke me down. I got the screaming babies in the house, put them in a safe place and I blasted the music, grabbed a beer, and sat on the floor and cried and cried and screamed. And then Jay came home to see us all screaming and crying. This night he took me aside and said, "it's not normal for someone to react so strongly to a bad walk. i think you need help."

Now I have to say all this time I had help. Jay took time off from work to help. The grandparents were flying across country multiple times to help. In addition we had hired a doula on random days when the grandparents weren't here to help me. So help...I had help. But I needed more and in a different way.

Around month 5 everything finally started falling in to place. Finally. After 5 months of this. The number 1 thing was having a great doctor who responded to me when I flat out started bawling when he asked how I was doing. Luckily (unluckily?) his wife had gone through postpartum depression and he took it very seriously. He immediately put me on a prescription and really pushed getting therapy. I took the pills, but really could not see finding the time to go to therapy. I decided that would be just one more thing to add stress, and more stress I did not need. I felt as if my moms groups (especially my twin moms group) were my therapy. So medication - check. We also finally got the boys in to see a gastrointestinal specialist and got some medication that they both desperately needed. In addition we started them on some solid food (rice cereal of course) which was heavy enough to stay in them along with the medicine to help reduce stomach acid. Also, around the 4 month mark our Pediatrician gave us the much anticipated advice that we could finally start sleep training. So we did. And it was amazing. Just getting them to sleep through the night helped immensely. However, I know that was not all I needed. I wasn't just a sleep deprived mama. The medication dose originally prescribed for me didn't start to work for a couple of weeks and even then it's effect was minor. Luckily my doctor required me to come in for a follow up a month after starting the medication and he knew right away it wasn't working at that dose. We doubled what I was taking and again, it took over 2 weeks to see any effect. The dose then, is the dose I am currently on.

So life is perfect now right? A year later the "situational" depression or anxiety should be gone? Um, nope. I recently went to see my new doctor. An amazing doctor who really hears what a patient is saying. I told him that my old doctor (who retired amidst all of this chaos) suggested I start to wean off of the medication about a year after starting it. I spoke with my new doctor about this. He asked "do you want to discontinue the medication?" Such a loaded question. Immediately I said "yes, of course I want to discontinue the medication. Who wants to be medicated?" But..."I am worried. I am worried because I am still stressed and anxious and still have moments of depression, although brief." He said, if there is ANY doubt in your mind about whether you're ready to discontinue this medication, do not do it." "It is a safe medication."

So I continue on. And let me tell you...every day is hard. Still. Motherhood is hard. I still have anxiety. I still have stress. I still have depression, sometimes. This is not the end all, be all medication. I am not skipping through life with rose colored glasses. I know motherhood is meant to be hard. It is stressful and annoying at times. But those who did not go through PPD/PPA have coping mechanisms. I do not.

I am worried about other moms out there that don't know about this. Other moms that are ruining their lives, their marriages, and risking the relationship with their children all because they don't know that life could be a little bit better. That this isn't how motherhood is supposed to be. That what we feel isn't really normal.

I hope this reached someone that needs it. Or maybe even someone who knows someone that might need help. A lot of times all that new mom needs is someone to say "you know what, you don't have to be all smiley and perfect around me. Motherhood sometimes sucks. It's ok. And if it's getting to a really bad place, that is not normal and I'm here to help."

Thanks for reading this post. I hope to post more. I'm insanely busy with my boys, training for a triathlon, and starting a new business. I hope to keep all of these things connected. And just to clarify from the title of my blog, I do not consider what I went through a fail. It just is what it is.


Sunday, January 26, 2014

mamawhomamawhat?

Slacker, slacker, slacker...this is the thought that runs through my head whenever I think of this blog. I have pushed my writing aside for the other adventures in my life; twin boys (16 months old!), husband, family, holidays, new company, new products, training for an olympic triathlon, etc etc etc. Believe me, it's not for a lack of daily mama fails...and maybe a few wins too.

Here are a few of the latest fails that have a happened in the recent past. I say this because my memory is crap and I honestly cannot remember all of the chaos that happens every day.

Mama fails:
Chasing James around the garage because he has something in his mouth. Find out it is a dime (choking!) he got off of the garage floor (chemicals, dirt, gah!). Finally fish out the dime and am putting it up high and out of reach. I turn around to find him pick up a piece of dog food off the floor and promptly eat it. Sigh.

Just got home from a run and am mentally and physically exhausted. I have one of those camelbak water bottles that I am drinking from and of course James wants it. (Sidebar - these boys are completely and totally in the, I want what moms has phase). So, fine, I give him the water bottle. It's filled with water and has a silicone spout. Harmless right...until he trips and falls. He starts crying...and I'm all "you're ok, shake it off". (This is my standard response to all trips because if I rushed to the boys every time they trip or fall I would do nothing else in life.) Then I realize he is not calming down and then. I see. the blood. Oh god. He is bleeding profusely from his mouth. My first thought is he knocked out a tooth. Oh god. I pick him up and cannot see a thing between the blood and the fact that he will not open his mouth for me. Luckily I can peek in between wails, all I can see is what looks to be his upper lip in between his front teeth. You would think an ex ICU nurse would handle stressful situations pretty well. Um nope. My mind went blank. I called the Pediatrician...no answer, crap, they're closed. So I call Jay and we try to communicate over baby wails. He is totally cool and calm and I am a mess. He suggests giving him ice chips to numb the area and decrease swelling. Yes, yes, that makes sense. The bleeding has stopped and James is willing to eat ice chips. Phew. There is a lot more drama (self imposed) that happens over the next 24 hours, but eventually it comes down to this: he hit his lip, scratched his gum, it bled, the upper lip was all swollen which made it look like it was stuck between the front teeth. Ace mothering and nursing there Mel. What would I have done without Jay...probably taken my son to the ER for a swollen lip. Sigh.

The boys have been playing in front of our house a lot lately. This is really fun as a lot of the neighborhood kids will come down the street to play with them. Plus the boys get to explore everyone's front yards and porches. We are at the end of a dead end street so we often let the boys just play in the street. Our first boy (Bear dog, Baby Bear, Bear Bear) likes this time as well because he gets to smell all the smells, sun bathe on the neighbors lawn, and watch the people go by. Sometime there is water in the gutter area in front of our house, left over from someone washing their car or the sprinklers going off and Bear likes to drink this water. Yuck, but he's a dog, whatever. John and James were playing on opposite sides of the street so I stand in between them at all times so it's just a quick jaunt to whoever is causing the most trouble (hopefully they never do it at the same time - ha!). So there I am switching from one boy to the other. They are both playing nicely....John is in the street and James is in our driveway. So I am watching John, who is watching Bear. John decides to imitate Bear and in less than a second he is laying on his belly with his face in the gutter water. Oh my god. So disgusting. I scream "yucky" which is my standard response for something gross they are about to put in their mouths. John looks up and smiles with a face full of gutter water and sediment...on my way running to him, he promptly puts his face back in. Can I actually wash my kid's mouth out with soap? Sigh.

Poison control line called. Do I need to elaborate? I only will as a PSA. Unless you know your garden very well (which we do not as we are renters), never take your eyes off your kid in the backyard, ever. Well, not until they are past the oral fixation phase. John literally bit into a tree (Plumeria) and as I'm telling him "yucky" I see this white milky substance coming out of the tree. That CANNOT be good. Find out what the tree is, look it up, see the words POISONOUS SAP and totally freak. Luckily I had my head on straight this day and immediately called poison control line...all is well...just an irritant. Keep an eye on his mouth, etc etc. Sigh.

Getting frustrated with the boys. The boys are in this transition phase. They are wanting more independence, but still needing so much. It leads to very frustrating times. I know every mom goes through these times, there is no special mama fail here. The fail is that I do get frustrated and angry with them. Most of the time they have no idea what they are doing...they are not doing it purposefully and yet, I take it personally. Then I feel guilty and a downward spiral begins. Sigh.

Mama Wins:
Holy moly I am getting this company thing started. I guess maybe it's too early for it to be a win, but it sure is exciting and scary.

We are doing a triathlon. I have made it through one week of training and I haven't hurt myself or forgotten a child at the Kidzone at the YMCA. Wahoo!

Part of having the boys go out front and play in our driveway and street is you just never know what is going to happen. Sometimes it's crazy gross, sometimes they just "discover stuff" and sometimes it is truly amazing and hilarious. It has been an incredibly mild winter here in Orange County and one day it was 85 degrees. After a walk in the heat, the boys were ready to get out of their stroller and play. The stroller was a mess of crushed cheerios and banana, yay toddlerhood. Time for a stroller hose down in the front yard (really how can our neighbors not love us - dogs on their lawn, cleaning strollers in our front yard, nakey babies running around - we'll get to that last one.) Well the boys found this to be fascinating and start splashing in the water that was running down the driveway. Then John discovered that the water was coming from the hose and he wanted to explore that. This video is what ensued and it was awesome. Eventually this led to me having to strip them down to their diapers on the front lawn as they were soaked (hiya neighbors). Sigh (with a smile).

Thursday, December 5, 2013

I have not disappeared...

...I have been slacking on this blogging thing though. As we all know, the holidays are crazy time. As we all know having twins (or just more than one child - or hell, just one child) is crazy time. As we all know running a household is crazy time. So needless to say it has been crazy time here. In addition to my "regular" crazy times, I have decided to add a little more crazy to my life. I am starting a company and developing a product. More info to come later, but this process is insanely busy. Trying to fit the work in to nap times has proven to slow things down dramatically. Stuff gets pushed aside and one of my favorite things (writing) has taken a hit.

There are so many stories of fails and wins lately and I feel like I could write about 10 posts with all of them. I will try to be concise though and maybe just put them in list form instead of writing a whole story about them. Something like the 12 days of Christmas, but 12 days of mama fail mama win. Yea...I like this idea. Here goes:

Mama fails
1. On the 1st day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me a lesson on their reaching distance by grabbing the coffee mug and spilling it all over themselves...mama panic. No burns, phew.
2. On 2nd day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me falling off the small slide in our living room head over feet and landing on the tile. No injuries, phew.
3. On the 3rd day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me pulling down the display near the pharmacy of light up pen things causing them to spill all over the floor. Pharmacist insisted she will clean them up.
4. On the 4th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me more random poop incidents than I can handle. Squatting in the closet; continuing to poop after dirty diaper was cleaned off and you went running, pooping along the way; rolling around behind a pile of pillows and clothes, poop getting smeared on wall and floor; one boy reaching into the other's diaper of poop...and on and on.
5. On the 5th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me...more gray hairs than I can tolerate on my head.
6. On the 6th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me a heart attack when they learned to climb furniture.
7. On the 7th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me a lesson to not let them "help" unload the dishwasher when you think it's safe...they will find the knife you didn't know was in there.
8. On the 8th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me a brain so addled that I backed up out of my garage straight in to my husbands car...with babies and MIL in the car.
9. On the 9th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me a decision that they both no longer liked the foods they have loved for the past 4 months and will only eat bananas.
10. On the 10th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me the ability to not care about wiping noses on just about anything including my sleeves, pants, wipes, towels, onesies, their shirt, the cat etc...
11. On the 11th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me the knowledge that they are stronger than they seem after the dog flat out ran in to (at full speed) one of my boys sending him flying backwards. Luckily landing on grass. Little crying, but tough guy shook it off.
12. On the 12th day of MFMW my toddlers gave to me a week of changing nap schedules, each boy different, everyday a different nap skipped, and the inability to plan anything because I never knew when they would sleep.

Mama wins - Surprise, I'm running out of time and somehow the fails outnumber the wins...sigh. At least the wins count for twice as much :)
1. Mama got her hair done. Hair dye and a fabulous stylist to cover the gray and make the mom bob look "not as mom-y"
2. Being so close to saying mama. I get a "mum" out of James sometimes. Maybe he's British?
3. Saying dada. Of course...
4. Both walking. Well, one running and one sloppily toddling after his brother
5. Changing to front facing car seats. Don't criticize...it's the only way we are all staying sane in the car, which makes the driving experience safer.
6. We got the boys first haircut. Holy moly...you'd think this would be ripe for a mama fail. But the boys were great. The only bad part is they don't look like babies anymore.

Happy twins facing front
First Haircut

First Haircut

John running, James crawling. Two different directions
That's one bad mutha...

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Busy busy bee

Mama fail: Amazing how having a social life leaves no time for you to work on hobbies...like blogging.

Mama win: I have a social life!!! It's about dang time. Go me Go me Go me (in sing song while doing the running man)

Mama fail: The only reason I have a social life is because of two 13 month old boys...sigh.

I promise a lot of hilarity and embarrassments have happened in the last three weeks. I'll write more soon.

This is a close enough approximation of an image of me doing the running man

Friday, October 18, 2013

Chicago, it's my kind of town

I'm gonna start with my "mama win" for this post because it was such an awesome win in so many ways.

Mama win: visit to Chicago. Yes that is right, I, and I alone, got to go back home to Chicago. That means that Jay stayed with the boys, all by himself. Amazing. Ways this trip was a win:

1. I got to surprise my sister, the day before she ran the Chicago Marathon, with my visit. Her reaction was wonderful and watching her run the race was all I needed to make the short trip worth it. Go beanie!!
2. I FLEW to Chicago. I have developed a serious fear of flying, bordering on panic at any bit of turbulence. Quite pitiful. The fact that I made it in one piece is a win.
3. I was away from my kids - first time I have spent a whole day away from my boys let alone three whole days. It was terribly hard, but also quite liberating. I got to be me, just me, for three whole days. I was able to let go. It was so very hard to not hold my boys, but I also proved to myself that I could do it.
4. Jay proved to himself that he could handle the boys alone. He could do a whole day with them, get them out of the house, feed them all three meals, and still be standing at the end of the day...even if he was hunched over - exhausted - and gritting his teeth.
5. Jay now knows how hard it is to be a stay at home mom to twins. Priceless. Although he works his butt off all day 5 (or more) days a week, the physical, mental and emotional exhaustion of a whole day with the boys can be the hardest thing.
6. Seeing my family, my original family, my forever family that has known me since the day I was born. That is what I needed to be grounded. They refresh me.
7. I drank wine (a lot), and ate (a lot), and laughed loudly (a lot). I got to dress up and put makeup on. I felt pretty. It's been waaaay too long for a lot of those things.

My sister's cheer squad at mile 23























Mama fail: well for something as good as the above mama win, I will regale you with not one, not two, but three mama fails. Oh you are so lucky.

Fail numero uno - the stroller incident, part 1
I am on my way to a play date at another mom's house. I am flustered from the morning of trying to remember all emergency supplies I might need for my boys, pack them up, drive to a place I've never been before, get them unloaded, don't forget anything in the car, etc etc. You know the drill. Well I bust out my handy dandy umbrella stroller and plop the boys right in. Something is not right though. John is sitting way too far forward in his seat and I cannot even get James into the thing, it's too tight on the sides. I push James in until I can get a buckle on him and continue unloading stuff from the car. Then I notice that James is sitting way too far forward too. What is going on here? Well, anyone that knows how an umbrella stroller works, probably knows how this story ends. But for those of you that do not...an umbrella stroller is awesome because it completely accordions open and closed and folds in half as well. When you are going to use it, you unfold it and open it like an accordion. Then you press on the two frames supports under each seat to lock it open. Well this tiny little safety and usefulness step is what I forgot. Completely did not open the stroller fully and also forgot to lock in place. Thank goodness this happened on an empty neighborhood street instead of in a parking lot. Because you see, you cannot then just finish the process of opening further and locking whilst the children are in the stroller. So out they go. I cannot just place them on the sidewalk or out into the street they will crawl. And I am not about to put them back into their car seats (pain in my a$$), so I just kind of toss them into the back of the car on the floor and pray for the best while I reassemble the car seat. Yes this was a moment I was glad to have in relative privacy. Sigh.

Failure numero dos - the stroller incident, part two
Now at play date. The mom who is hosting, kindly lets me bring the stroller in to her home as it is now pouring rain outside. I completely collapse the stupid thing so I don't take up half of her kitchen with my double wide awesomeness. At the end of the play date as I am moving over to set up the stroller again I decide to ask the moms if they have ever had a moment of mama brain like I did just a few hours ago (stroller incident). They all laugh, say "of course", but they want to hear the story. As I am regaling them with my ineptitude, I am gathering up the boys, our debris, and setting up the stroller. I am in bare feet because in Southern California we generally follow the rule of leaving your shoes at the door. So my bare footed brilliance has unfolded and opened up the stroller. As I am going to push on the "snap in to place" locking mechanism I briefly have the thought of "should I be doing this without shoes on". Too bad I am in the midst of a hilarious story about the last stupid thing I did with this stroller. I push down and slam...bottom of my foot gets caught in the snapping mechanism. I pull out my foot with a pit in my stomach, tears in my eyes, and hope no one noticed the little squeak of pain I allowed myself...because you see I just couldn't stand the humility of me hurting myself on the stroller that I embarrassed myself with earlier. I don't want these moms thinking I am a special needs case. So I stand still, afraid to lift my foot for fear that there will be a huge pool of blood underneath, calling out to my boys who refuse to move closer to me. I decide to bravely attempt to walk to my children as I don't think this mom would like to have me as a permanent fixture in her home. Luckily no pool of blood was found and I still cannot bring myself to look at my foot. Boys captured and placed in the stroller, I walk out all confident and smiles. As soon as the door is shut behind me I hobble the rest of the way to the car dragging my mangled pride and foot behind me.

Mama torture device






















mama fail numero tres - you forgot there were three didn't you???
This is a quick one, but delivered a shot to the ego like no other. Being that I was away from my boys for the first time ever for more than 1 day, I of course had day dreams about our reunion. I would go running through the airport towards their cute little bodies in the stroller and they would be all smiles and squeals of delight. I would pick them up and spin them around as they latched on to me. I mean I was gone for 3 whole days. They practically have this same reaction every time Jay comes home from work, and he is only gone for 8 hours. So I see Jay and the boys about 20 feet away. I go jogging towards them, awkwardly like the hunchback of notre dame as I am dragging my carry on suitcase behind me. I see the boys, we make eye contact, and as I get closer I start talking to them and how much I missed them and "HI boys mama is home!!!!" They sit there stoically, unsmiling, still in their stroller. Just staring. So I bend down to them, and grab their little toes and say "hi boys, it's mama". They stare. and stare. Then they start to whine because they are stuck in the stroller and it has stopped moving. So we walk back to the car, with still no reaction from the boys. I pick each one of them up and out of the stroller to give them a hug and James immediately pushes away with arms and legs. John just looks at everything, besides me. So much for that magical homecoming moment. At least Jay was glad to see me.