Smooth Sailing No More...At Least For Now

With one baby, this situation would ensure that I get a rest in the afternoon. With two babies, this situation has smoke coming out of my ears and a silent "AAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGH!" (so as not to waken the other sleeping baby).

On Thursday, little Miss S started preferring hi-jinx in the crib, rolling over on her belly after being put on her back, me walking away, her yelling for help 2 minutes later...rinse and repeat. Today, even after a bath with drops of lavender oil in the bath water, it took the little pest 30 MINUTES to settle down and go to sleep (after I flipped her back on her back a few times). I thought for sure the bath would ensure immediate napping...like it USED to.

FINALLY, by 2pm they were both snoozing, and I could get on with my jobs. I have 9 more things to do on my to-do list by Saturday! Finished cleaning the kitchen and took a break from my work for some well needed knitting contemplation, i.e. grafting stitches. There's always Thursday and Friday...I know, famous last words.

Ah well...at least they sleep at night! Let's be thankful for small mercies.

Understatement of the Year

I've always said that men can't see dirt. Well, let me tell you.

I returned home yesterday around 4:00 from an afternoon of 5 hours of knitting with the girls. Time does fly when I'm having fun! Kip came to open the door for me, looking a bit weary. He said he had just cleaned up a dirty boy. He said that while changing the boy, some errant poop was lurking somewhere, an invitation for the boy's left hand to get in it. He said he was too late grabbing the little hand away, but quickly scrubbed off the mess. So...no harm done, right?

I made the bottles and scooped up the boy for some cuddling. We sat down to start the meal and I looked dreamily into his olive-green eyes. To my HORROR, I saw a brown smear on his right eyelid. I yelled, "AUGH!! He has poop on his eye!!!" I found my thoughts sleuthing out the physics of how a left outer palm makes contact with a right eyelid. There was no explanation.

I whisked the poor chap back to the child-laundering station where we met up with a warm washcloth.

I can deal with crumbs on the counter, beard bristle segments in the bathroom sink, unmatched socks scattered on the living room floor...but poop on the eye???

The moral of this story is that Kip either needs to wear glasses while baby-changing or the babies need some little swimming goggles as a precautionary measure.

Eureka!

Last Thursday, Seda started not wanting all of her bottle at EVERY feeding! She would arch her back, turn her head away, and push the bottle away with her hands! She's always been an archer, but this was getting really mind-boggling, and having her only eat 3 oz was not a good thing.

So we struggled with this over and over until this morning, when I had an amazing revelation. I thought to myself, "Hmm...maybe she's not hungry every three hours anymore!" So the first meal of the day for her and Kai was at 9am, and they both ate everything. I thought, "I wonder if they'd be interested in more?" And wouldn't you know, the little girl pest had another ounce or so!

After breakfast, I bathed them, and they slept like LOGS for 90 minutes. There was a 4 hour interval between Seda's first and second meal, and she ate ALL 6 ounces again, washed down with her pile of cereal and fruit! There was NO arching, head-turning or bottle-pushing!

HALLELUJAH!

Seda is trying to tell me that mashed lentils don't go with oatmeal and mangos.


Here's Kai, contemplating some cereal-dusted tofu cubes.

Travel snippet pre-kids

Ever notice how New York City smells like toast and coffee in the morning? This tantalizing breakfast photo documented said meal consumed at The Waverly Restaurant in The Village on the corner of 10th Street (?) and Sixth Avenue, in May 2007. I love how they served it all in a skillet. All that's missing from this pic to make it a quintessential NYC breakfast shot is one of those cool "greek" coffee cups, but alas, those are from the street vendors.

Hub-eye Freb-end

Remember Zoom on PBS and Ubbi-Dubbi? Yes, I am almost 40 and my husband will be 43 next year, and yes the other night we amused ourselves to pieces speaking ubbi-dubbi! Little baby girl giggled along with us wholeheartedly. She has a love for nonsense. It was one of those warm and fuzzy moments.

In the past, I would occasionally say something to him in ubbi-dubbi and he would look at me glassy-eyed and lost. BUT...he has been studying!

The next day, he found on Wiki some information about the origins of ubbi-dubbi and how it is considered a Gibberish "language." Then for several days he emailed me in ubbi-dubbi, which I find very difficult to read, but very easy to speak. He now gets the method to the madness but has to work a little on where he places the accent on the syllables. With improper accent placement, I find it near impossible to understand what he's saying.

He's gotten so carried away that I had to shush him first thing in the morning as he was bellowing out ubbi-dubbi to one of the twins. It was a bit too mind-numbing for me to listen to at 7am.

Here's to getting in touch with your inner child! It's what staves off the gray and keeps my skin wrinkle-free.

A Fruitful Harvest

Last year I prepared the soil of my body. In the fall we planted the bulbs otherwise known as embryos, and two little tulips bloomed in the Spring.

We have so much to be thankful for this year and are extremely lucky to have beat the odds. We are looking forward to raising children that are thankful for what they have, and we are hoping to avoid the Need for Greed that plagues far too many children in America. Our dream one day, when they are old enough, is to spend some time with the twins on Thanksgiving Day working in a soup kitchen.

There’s nothing I need or want, and now I have everything I ever wanted in the whole wide world.

Now that we are growing children, it’s time to think about growing a vegetable garden so the children can learn of the time, effort and patience involved in growing food rather than only seeing a box or can on a shelf or the mounds of neatly stacked produce in the market.

Here’s to a bountiful harvest in the future.

Salut!

Gas pain, a runaway dog, and did you know shoes can get dry rot?

Yesterday my mom took pity on my lackluster meal preparation of late (when I told her we’d be noshing on some vegetarian borscht and cold baked chicken – now there’s an interesting juxtaposition!) and whipped up a batch of gourmet mac n cheese to take home for dinner. She packed it up nicely, insulated with newspaper, so in theory it would still be hot when we sat down to eat. She even cut up some fresh green beans so I would only need to drop them in a pot of water. I had carrots too, could handle that on my own.

So, got the babies home, unpacked, figured we would be able to eat before their next feeding. Not so at all.

The boy started squeaking at 6:15, just as the veggies finished cooking. I made bottles and changed the diapers. Girl baby started crying uncontrollably, didn’t want food, didn’t want to sleep, nothing was working, and I was starving. I put her back in the crib and she settled down, even smiled. I left to go eat so I had the strength to continue the evening’s duties.

As I gobbled down the food, hubby said, “Maybe she’s over-hungry. We could try some oatmeal.” I scowled and said, “Noooooooo. She’s bawling. She won’t want that.” Also, I didn’t want her to choke on cereal while crying so hard.

After I inhaled my food, I was ready for another attempt to feed her. Just then, the dog wanted to go out. I opened the front door, and usually I grab Ashiko’s collar before putting her on her chain, but she bolted out the door in pursuit of one of the neighborhood cats (who happens to look just like Snoopy). I ran out after her, but stopped in the middle of the street and thought, “Great…this is hopeless…I might as well just go back inside…she’ll come home eventually.” But I walked around the circle towards the cat’s house, and the owner and her dog were returning from a walk. She said our dog was nearby, had been playing with her dog. I said, “Where is she now? She’s probably gone back home and is making me walk all the way around the circle.” Sure enough, when I got back, there she was in the front yard, waiting for me. Sigh.

So then…I scooped up whiny girl baby and she was crying again. Sat down with her at the dining table, and she still didn’t want any bottle. I said to the hubby, “Hmm…maybe she does want some oatmeal.” We got that ready, and after the first spoonful she cheered up and let out a lonnnnnnnnnnnggggg loud toot. Aha! So it was gas pain that was causing all the distress! She ate all the cereal, happily tooting during the meal, had a few sips from the bottle and fell fast asleep. She was worn out from the ordeal! I then had to apologize to the hubby and (cough, cough) tell him he was RIGHT for suggesting the cereal idea. Newman!

This morning, I yanked an old pair of shoes out of the closet that I haven’t worn in 10 years. I’ve had them since 1993. They were always comfy, a classic style, German-made, long-lasting, yada yada. When I stopped at my folks’ at lunchtime to deliver some pumpage, they said, “Where’d all that mud come from that was on your shoes? We’ve been cleaning up little piles of it here and there.” I said, “What mud?” and looked at the bottom of my shoes to find that the heels had dry-rotted and were crumbling all over kingdom come! Who knew shoes could get dry rot?

I returned to work and entertained the Chief of Fashion Police with my fashion faux pas. She said, “Only YOU would keep shoes for 15 years!” She actually admitted they were a cute style but gave me a demerit for my socks that didn’t bear any matching quality to the rest of my ensemble, which is always a sore spot with her. But hey, at least I don’t wear my purple Crocs every day anymore! Those were my preggo work shoes.