Of Violins and Softball Lessons

My five year old daughter informed me last night that she wants to play the violin and be an athlete. 

She wants to do BOTH.

First, I'm not so sure my ears or the ears of all of her siblings can take the violin so we may try to redirect her instrument choice.  But I will not deny her desire to play one.

Second, this statement made me so incredibly proud, happy and anxiety ridden all at once that I had to choose whether to cry tears of joy or  get into bed and attempt to sleep for the next 16 years.

(For the record, I told her absolutely and then forced her to go to bed!)

She loves music.  I mean LOVES it.  Singing.  Dancing. Playing the drums (which will not be our redirected instrument choice). Anything musical, she adores it.

She loves sports, too.  Truthfully?  She's really good at them, too.  Soccer is not her sport, but good Lord can the girl swing a softball bat and golf club like she was born to do it.  She has instinct and drive.  She belongs on the field and in between lines and I refuse to ignore that.

As her mother, as her parent, I am required to foster to any idea that she wants to try- within reason.

And I am more than happy to do that.

Watch that video.  Go ahead, I'll wait.  It's a good one.  Moosh in Indy actually introduced me to it and it instantaneously made me cry.

I quit my job about 3 weeks ago.  Well, no, I gave my notice that I would not be returning next year.  And I did it for a variety of reasons.  Some of which have to do with my kids and many of which do not.

Do I think it's going to be hard?  Oh, hell, yes.  The fear of not having my paycheck is a reality that keeps me up every night and it's the excuse I use for not getting up at 5am to go to the gym....I'm just too tired from laying awake all night thinking about not having a paycheck. 

I am fully aware it's not a good enough excuse.

BUT ANYWAY.

I watched that video and through the tears all I could think about were my kids and what the next year would be like for them. 

MY plan is to stay home for a year.  I have a few things in the fire in terms of bringing in some extra cash.  And I'll be working on my MBA.  I will be keeping busy.

But my ultimate goal with the next year is to be there for my kids.  That means spending the majority of the day with my twins.  That means being able to make it to programs at the kids' school.  That means driving to dance classes and soccer practices and softball lessons and everything else that may come down the pike.

Essentially, it means being more present in my mom role than I am now.  And after watching that video, the thought of that is exciting to me.

It does not mean losing myself in the everyday but rather finding who I am within my role as a mom, a wife, a student, and a professional.  In every capacity.

It means organization and chaos.  Late nights and early mornings.  Lunches made and lunches bought. 

It means all the things I want it to be and all of the things I cannot possibly know that it will be.

When my husband and I got engaged all I wanted to do was be married to him because like the line from "When Harry Met Sally" goes, "When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right now."

I quit my job about 3 weeks ago and all I want is for the rest of my life to begin right now.

Act Your Age

I have this tendency to act out of emotions more often than I care to think about.  I allow myself to get wrapped up in the moment and I act upon it. 

Sometimes the outcome is good.

More often than not the outcome is not good.

And it's not things that put people in danger or anything like that but rather instances where I have acted in a way that I thought was best only to realize that it was not.

I have jumped and reacted before actually thinking or allowing an idea to sink in and I ended up with my tail, rightfully so, between my legs.

*****

When it came time to sign the paper stating my intention for my job next year I had to think long and hard about things.  Something occurred that caused me act almost instinctively and pushed me out my classroom door and down to the principal's office to quit on the spot. 

Thank God for buffer zones and the guy next door.

My desire to leave and quit was not wrong, nor has it gone away, but to do so in the moment of anger and hurt that I was feeling would have been wrong.  And Stupid.

I needed to assess my situation and determine the course of action that I felt was best for my situation.

I need to do that for all situations and I'm not very good at it. 

What's funny is that I'm not nearly this impulsive with less important things.  The things that don't boil down to emotion and acting upon them, I usually think about.

I'm not the type to go out and buy a new car or expensive item because it's something I NEED to have.  I'm not jumping on an airplane to fly anywhere and everywhere at a moment's notice because I want to or I can.  (I really can't, what with 4 kids and all)

Why, then, do I allow my emotions, in the more important situations, to make the decisions for me?  Where does my common sense and intelligence go in these situations?

I honestly don't know.

But I know that hindsight is 20/20 and, like Karma, it is often a bitch.  And one that I'd like to avoid.

So, here's to more thinking and less impulse.  Here's to more common sense and less reactionary sense.  Here's to trying to make the right, most logical and intelligent choice rather than the one motivated by emotions of the moment.

Here's to taking another step away from acting like an adolescent to acting your age.

Stealing Home

It's almost 2 o'clock in the morning right now and I am awake, in my bed, having just shut off the TV and turned off my Kindle/iPhone.  My husband is snoring peacefully next to me and I can hear my babies on the monitor next to my bed.

And my paranoia is at an all time high.

Earlier this evening, a co-worker who lives in the same town as my family and I do now, texted me to let me know that their home had been almost burglarized for a second time.  (Actually, the first time the thieves got in and took a bunch of stuff, this time they didn't get in.)  And when the cops showed up to investigate they mentioned that there had been two burglaries in my development today.

Now, our development is fairly large and we live on a pretty busy street and one that is routinely patrolled by cops but still, my spidey senses went up and I went into high alert.  Every window needed to be locked.  Doors needed to be bolted.  The key we once kept outside for family and friends who stopped by when we weren't home, now brought back inside.  And a hammer next to my side of the bed- only because my Louisville Slugger has not made its way to our new home yet.

And as I laid here after all of my technology was shut down (before I sprang up and decided to write this) all I could think about was, as long my family was safe I really didn't care what anyone took.

Well, that's not completely true.

The family part? Absolutely true.  The other part? Not so much.

The only other thing I would really care about would be my laptop and my phone.  And if you're my husband or my parents and you're reading this, it's not for the obvious reasons.  It is not because of my addiction to them.

It's because they hold the evidence of my memories, our memories as a family.

Would I be upset if someone came into my home and took my TVs and game systems and jewelery and clothes and anything else?  Yes, I've had the majority of my possessions stolen before and it's quite possibly one of the worst feelings ever.  But was I able to replace all of those things?  Yes.

Yes, there are things that have sentimental value but they only have that value because of the memories attached to them.  I will ALWAYS have the memories.  I can somehow find a way to replace the THINGS.

Not having my jewelery or TVs would be upsetting and hard to deal with, at first, but we have insurance and it's there for this type of thing.  We don't NEED things, we just have them.

Again, as long as my family was safe- it's all that matters.

But my phone and my laptop, why those things too?  They hold my photos.  They hold the tools I use to capture my memories.  Yes, I could replace them.  And, Yes, I should be backing them up to an external drive but I haven't yet.  So, right now they hold on to all of the photos and moments that have been important, that I've wanted to capture.

They hold first birthdays and weeks spent on the beach.  They hold ultrasounds that reveal two babies instead of one and they hold images of car seat challenges and first smiles.  They are technology and it's not their physical presence I worry about but the purpose that they serve.

So, I sit here awake in my bed and think about how much I'd love to climb into bed with my 5 year old and snuggle with her while I listen to the even breathing of her and her two sisters and I realize that all the things we've filled our house with mean nothing without the people, memories and moments attached to them.  I carry those with me all of the time and I always will.

Having our things here never made this a home, it has been the memories that have made it such.  And no thief can ever take that, nor do I think they'll try.

But, I really do think I'll feel a bit more "Homey" if I had my home run machine slugger next to my bed, as it always had been.

Not The Worst Thing in the World

In case you didn't get the memo, we have twins.  And when we had twins we immediately went from having two children to having four children.

And apparently, that gives everyone the right to comment on the size of our family, the amount of work it must be, how tired and broke we must be and how glad they are that it isn't them.

Well, first off, I'm glad it isn't you, too.

Second, let me tell you a little something about how we came to have twins.  No, I didn't go through IVF or any other fertility treatment, but thank you very much for asking me that in line at the local grocery store, I found your question to be totally appropriate and welcomed considering we've never met before.  If I had gone through fertility treatments I probably would not have told you that, though, because in reality it's none of your damned business.

We have twins because we decided to try and have a third baby.  And we got pregnant.  And then we weren't pregnant.  And then we decided to try again.  And we got pregnant.

And then we had an ultrasound.

And then we found out we were having twins.

And while it was quite possibly one of the scariest things we've ever encountered, it was not the worst thing in the world.

And it still isn't.

Is it a lot of work?  Sure, but so is one kid or two or 22.

Are we broke?  OF COURSE WE ARE BROKE!  We have children and I am a teacher.  I know some of you are under the false assumption that teachers pull in the big bucks but I'm here to reassure you, WE DO NOT.  AND anyone with kids, one or 42, is shelling out a lot of cash each month for kid related things and that often leads to trying to figure out which bill you can let slide until next month and which one you have to pay RIGHTNOW.  And, yes, sometimes cable wins out over everything else.

Are we tired?  This might be the dumbest question ever.  Both my husband and I work full time, he actually works two jobs, and we're trying to remodel and paint our new home.  Yes, we're tired.  But I have yet to meet anyone who isn't tired these days- kids or no kids.

So, there are your answers to all the questions and assumptions you've made, except for one.  The worst one of all, actually.

I am SO TIRED of heard people say to me, "Well, we're thinking about going for number 3 but look at what happened to you guys....I just don't know what we'd do if that ever happened to us!"

First, let me say this, when we found out we were having twins I was terrified.  Terrified of being pregnant with two kids at once.  Terrified of raising twins and the cost of it all.  Terrified of all of the implications that these two new babies would have on our lives.

But never once did I ever think to myself, "Oh, why did this have to happen to us?!"

Having twins is NOT the worst thing in the world.  It's not even CLOSE to the worst thing in the world.  And I don't think that saying something to the effect of, "Look what happened to you guys..." is an appropriate thing to say or even think with regards to children.

Any time anyone says this to me I want to look at them and say, "Really?!  Because it sounds like you're equating my children's existence to being in a car accident or losing your home or getting some awful disease.  Is that really what you think?"

Do you understand what a gift I have been given?  What my family has been given?  And what you would be getting if you were lucky enough to have twins?!

No, because if you did then you'd keep your f-ing mouth shut and not say something so insensitive and rude.

Did I enjoy being pregnant with twins?  Nope but I didn't enjoy any of my pregnancies.  And you know what?  I'm not in the minority.  There are TONS of women who don't enjoy pregnancy.  Yes, it's wonderful to know you're growing a human or two or three and when you feel them move it's amazing but, I didn't enjoy pregnancy at all.  That doesn't mean that I didn't want my children.

Was it a large adjustment when our twins came along?  Of course!  We all of a sudden went from a man defense to a completely penetrable zone defense and we're still trying to figure out the full court press that we need to maintain order.

But, my God, I wouldn't change a thing.  And having our twins was not something that, "happened to us".  It was something that not many people will ever get to experience and holy shit am I grateful for that.

Having our twins has been an incredible roller coaster of emotion and chaos that many days is hard but exciting and exhilarating.

And you know what?  If you really look at us and base whether or not you should try for another kid on the fact that we did and ended up having twins than I implore you, don't try for another kid because you're not going into it for the right reasons.

If you end up trying for another kid and you end up with twins I hope that you recognize how incredibly lucky you are.  Really, you're lucky no matter how many you have.  I hope you also have the opportunity to look at your babies on the floor one day and smile at the fact the you have two adorable kids who are making life so much fun and so much more work that it makes you exhausted at the end of the day.  I hope you get to think to yourself one day, "Wow! Everyone should have two babies at once because this is actually a lot of fun!" And then the projectile vomit will hit you and you'll, maybe, reconsider that for a moment but only a brief moment because the baby that vomited on you is now laughing at you covered in their predigested formula and cereal!

The worst thing in the world, for me, would be if we had never had our twins and then I really have to wonder what would have happened to us then?

Searching

This was an email I sent out to a friend this morning and as I was writing I realized that this was something I wanted to share on my blog.  And so I told her that at the end of the email.  I think sharing it not only helps to give me accountability but I feel like if I put it out here, there, wherever, it's reaching people who might be able to give me ideas and guidance.

I've determined I need a life coach.

I think I'm pretty good at helping others to figure out what they want to do but I need someone to talk me through what I want to do.

I enjoy teaching but I think I've allowed myself to become satisfied with it because it gives me a paycheck and I've got a tiny bit of flexibility and it's different everyday.  But I don't think it's what I want to be doing forever.  I need to find something that allows me to create in a different way.  And I really do believe the quote I put up the other day about finding what you love and then doing it and the money will flow to you.  I love all this crap with pinterest and blogging and baking and making things.  I really do.  I lose steam, though, because I'm working full time and I'm in school full time.  And I have 4 kids and I just moved and life is life.  I won't give up school because I firmly believe that whatever I end up doing an MBA will help me.  But I really need to find a way to make my creative side and drive my full time job....where I get paid.  In cash money.

I don't like this feeling.  I've always felt very in control of where I was going and what I wanted.  I sort of feel like I'm too old for this shit.  I'm 32 years old, shouldn't I know what I want to be when I grow up by now?!

Ch-Ch-Changes Are Hard

There are some days where I could literally take my two hands and wrap them around my husband's neck because he drives me so insane that I don't even want to be around him anymore.  And yes, I'm aware that I could simply leave the room or the house or the state instead of attempting to strangle him but then he'd get squatters' rights to the house and we can't have that happening.

Other days, the man keeps me so grounded and in check that I have to do a double take and see if it's still him that I'm married to.

We moved into our new home this past weekend and let me tell you, it's a shitshow over there.  I write about that more on my other blog, but let me quickly lay it out for you....we're sleeping, sort of eating, showering, and watching TV in our new house.  I don't consider us really living there yet because we're still making it home.  If that makes sense.

We have been wanting, anticipating, hoping for this move for quite some time but that didn't change the fact that come Monday night when all was said and done and the majority of our crap- which is A LOT OF CRAP- was moved into our spacious new basement I felt a sense of sadness and anxiety.  And my kids saw it, and my parents saw it and my husband saw it and I tried really hard to contain it.  But truth be told, change- even when hoped for, wanted, anticipated and instigated on your own- is really freaking hard.

There wasn't much to leave at our old home.  Yes, we left our house which was brand new when we bought it.  Yes, we left our neighborhood which was a dead end street where our kids could run without too much fear of cars.  Yes, I left one of my very best friends who lived right across the street.  But other than that, there was nothing there for us. 

We took our memories with us.

We came to a neighborhood where our new neighbors greeted us with a box full of goodies for us and our kids on our second night there.

My friendship didn't end simply because I don't live across the street from my friend anymore.

But the sadness and anxiety I felt, and still feel a bit, was more about the change from the familiar to the unknown.  It's scary to change.  To move.  To walk away from what you know to something totally different.  And to walk into a home that is not new and needs work and sweat.  And then to have your son tell you that the house feels weird and doesn't feel like home.  Well, it really makes you question your choices.

And then you cry.  And then your husband steps up and makes you realize why you married him and put up with his maddening and annoying ways.

He reminded me that our brand new house wasn't all that great in the brand new and building department.  Sure, we got to pick our countertops and no one had ever lived there before but the house was poorly built.  And we lived in a development where there was nothing for our kids or for us.  Now we live 6 houses from the beach/lake and 5 minutes from my job. He also reminded me that my friend works only 10 minutes from us and has solidified her place in our lives as the Godmother to one of our children.  There were so many positives that he pointed out that I was not recognizing because I was allowing my anxiety and fear and sadness to overwhelm me.  And then he gave me the greatest gift of all, after our kids, etc., he told me that my color choices and decorating ideas were so much better than he realized and that he was giving me free reign over the entire house.

And then the tears of happiness flowed.

Well, not really.  But that was only because he asked me to stop crying because it made him sad and he didn't like seeing me sad and then he told me that I could go sleep at the old house if I wanted.  But I had to lug the bed there.

So, we've moved and I've been reminded, one again, how lucky I am to have the husband and family that I have.  And each day, I'm looking at things from a more positive light and seeing more and more that helps to reassure me that our choices and our change are good good things.  Even though they are hard.

The very best things come out of the hardest circumstances.

The PPD Buffet

I took the girls for their 4 month checkups the other day and things went swimmingly well!  They are growing- not on the charts, yet, but thriving and that's all that really matters.

When I arrived I noticed an all too familiar paper attached to their files and when we got into the exam room, Peggy, my pediatrician's nurse handed me the paper and asked me to fill it out.

It was the PPD questionnaire that measures, or attempts to measure, how depressed you are and if you're in need of help.

I've filled this questionnaire out three times so far since the girls were born.  The answers really haven't changed each time.  Although I don't think I cry nearly as much as I did when they were first born.  That's for a few reasons, 1) I've learned to hold it back quite well and 2) my hormones are finally starting to level off and my thyroid meds are really doing their job. 

YAY for less hair loss!

I didn't fill out the questionnaire this time.  I shuffled it in with the rest of my papers and "Accidentally" threw it in my diaper bag with the vaccine info sheets.

Ooops.

My answers haven't changed.  And I'm not sure they're going to change any time soon.

I go to work each day at job that I like ok but don't really love and don't really enjoy anymore.

I went from having two kids to having four kids in no time at all.

I am in graduate school getting my MBA.

I am moving and trying to sell my home all at once.

I am scheduling specialists and doctors for myself and my twin girls along with making sure I take care of my older two kids' needs, as well.

I am attempting, with my husband's help, to keep our house in some order and out of squalor.

I am worried about each of my kids but most especially my twins and possible issues that they may have and how to treat them.

I am concentrated on medical bills and regular bills and getting them paid and out of the way.

I am missing the gym and running because I just cannot find the time or energy.

I am trying to figure of what I want to do with my life.  What do I want to get up and do each morning, other than be with my kids?

And there's more.

And I'm stressed and I'm sad and I'm overworked and I'm overwhelmed.

And I'm lucky to have all of these problems and people to help me with them.

But all of that, and more, would be reflected in the answers to that crappy, poorly constructed, instrument of inquiry.  And, really, I don't need to hear that I should be seeing someone or maybe consider meds.

I know all of that.  But I don't want to do meds and I'm not quite sure where or when I'd fit a therapist into my schedule.  I'm not opposed to therapy but, really? The time commitment and the cost just doesn't fit right now.

So, I avoided the questions and I thought about a conversation from a few weeks ago with a good friend.  My plate is full, full of good, full of bad, full of overwhelming and fun and sad and scary but it's full and it always has been and always will be.  When one thing gets figured out, something else will take it's plate.  It's like the endless buffet.  We just keep going up for seconds and thirds and so on and so forth.  And I'm lucky for all of the fullness of the plate because it's certainly worth a lot more than what I paid to get into the buffet. 

But I really think that a lot of what I'm feeling isn't any more intense than it ever has been.  When my second baby was born, I went into a deep dark place that was very very very hard to get out of.  This time around, I went somewhere, and I still go there occasionally, but it's nothing like before.  And this time around I have tools that help me.  I know what I need to do to get me out of it.

And filling out a questionnaire and having ANOTHER person tell me to call a therapist is not how I can get out of it.

Maybe I'll take a breather before I head back up to the buffet or when I go up I'll get something a bit lighter, like salad or some fruit.  But I doubt it.  It's not who I am.

So, for now, I avoid the questionnaire and I rely on my somewhat developed coping skills and my friends and family who have been there every step of the way.  I allow them to answer the questionnaire in my head, the questions that I ask myself when I think I'm getting too deep into it.  And when the answers are what I don't like, I have them to help pull me out.

Or help me clear my plate a little bit more.

And for that I am lucky.

Just Do It

I had a co-worker come into my classroom the other day and sit down and start talking with me about "Things" as of late.

By the way, working on week 3 of being back at work and counting down the days until our next day off!

ANYWAY, this person comes in and starts asking me all sorts of questions and we're chatting and I'm reserved because I don't really trust a lot of my co-workers because usually what is said to person A ends up being told to persons B, C, and D and if I wanted all of those people to know my business I would just tell them.  But, again, I digress.  So, we're chatting and my co-worker is asking how everything works with all four kids and getting them where they need go, etc. and they ended the conversation with, "I just don't know how you do it.  Seriously."

And then my head exploded because I hate that phrase.

No, seriously though, I know people mean it in a kind and somewhat complimentary way but I can't freaking stand it when they say, "I don't know how you manage with 4 kids." Or "I don't know how you do X, Y, and Z and have all those kids."  OR anything that sounds even remotely like that.

Because, you know, 4 kids and managing to wipe your ass and put your hair in a ponytail is a feat for even the weakest. 

And it is. 

And it has been for me, at times.

How do I do it?  I don't know.  I just do.  I'm not doing anything more than the mom of one or two kids.  I'm not making mountains move each morning. 

I'm doing what needs to be done and sometimes a little bit more.  And a lot of days, I don't even think I'm doing it that well.

Isn't that what we're all doing?

I get up and sometimes I go to the gym for 5am and sometimes I don't.  I ALWAYS make coffee because as much as I love me lots of Starbucks, our bank account can't afford it the way in which I've become accustomed.  I shower, most days- especially after going to the gym.  I get my kids up and at this point my husband is up, too.  He usually gets the babies going while I'm shouting at my 6 year old to put down GD iPhone, stop beating my score on Temple Run and GET DRESSED!  My 4 year old is, at this point, back in bed fully dressed and begging for someone to PLEASE JUST TURN THE LIGHTS OFF I WANT TO SLEEP.  And if I have on pants, I'm lucky.  But by 6:25am we are out the door and on our way. 

Because it's what needs to be done.  It's what we want, for the most part.  If I weren't going to work and we lived 40 minutes closer, I'd be a tad bit happier.  But we just do it.  There isn't something amazing about it.

Or is there?

I don't like it when people say to me, "I don't know how you do it." because the answer for me is quite simple, I just do.  But at points, even when there was only one baby and two adults and we weren't outnumbered, I have no idea how I did it.  Some days, getting out of bed was and is too much for me.  And for a lot of people with and without kids.

I don't know how a lot of other people with far greater struggles do it.  But they do.

And I'm pretty sure that's all that matters.

Moving

We're moving and, of course, I'd start a blog about it!

So head on over, click follow and watch as we take what my dad referred to as "shithole" at one point to something far more promising!

PS- He really only meant the outside looked like a shithole.  And he wasn't completely wrong.  This time.

If You Give a Mom a Hammer

Only 3 More Years!

So, I wrote this just after I turned 30.  This past Sunday I turned 32...GAH! I think it's time to take a look and see what I've done, what I need to do and maybe if some changes need to be made.....

30 Things to do before 35

1. Complete a triathlon- DONE!
2. Complete a triathlon in under 2 hours- Well, I'm signed up for one in July so, we'll see...
3. Get to 165 and maintain within 7 pounds (Want to do this by 31)- I think we'll adjust this to 33 since I did grow and birth TWO children at once!
4. Sell my house- STILL on the market...BUT we are moving!!
5. Finish my Masters and PhD.- Edited....I have finished my first master's degree and I am working towards my second BEFORE my PhD. Weeeelllll.....I just started my MBA program....lots of changes...
6. Run a half marathon- My friend Kathy wants me to do NJ in May....not sure it will happen this year....
7. Make really good cream puffs (this won't help with #3)- I really should do this.  Maybe this will be my first recipe for our new house!
8. Take my kids to Disney World- Done and Done thanks to Grandma and Pop-pop in March of 2011!
9. Sing Karaoke in a bar- uhhhhhh.....
10. Organize all of my pictures into albums.....yeah, no, not yet
11. Read a book by Ayn Rand- all the way through!
12. Go to Key West and have my picture taken at the Southern Most Point in the U.S.
13. Plant a vegetable garden that actually produces vegetables- This may be a real possibility in the new house!
14. Turn in my lesson plans on time every week- I am actually a week ahead on my plans!!
15. Make a piece of clothing for one of my kids to wear- in public.
16. Jetski
17. Surf- REALLY surf
18. Go to Cooperstown
19. Learn to ballroom dance- not necessarily well
20. Learn how to eat crabs
21. Knit or Crochet a blanket
22. Learn to de-bone a chicken
23. Start my own small business- Working it
24. Speak at a conference for educators- See, this might be difficult considering I'm probably leaving education
25. Either have a 3rd child or make a final decision that we are done having kids- Working on it- We're overachievers and went for 3 and 4 at once! 
26. Take my kids to Boston and Washington D.C.- maybe this summer....
27. Become a school administrator- Things chance and my goal of this happening is really no longer my goal.  I think it's time for me to step away from education for a bit.
28. Participate in one of the 3-day walks for Breast Cancer- I think this is a summer of 2013 thing- as long as the world doesn't end in December!
29. Learn Italian- I need to work on this a bit more actively.
30.  I've really been thinking about taking up a musical instrument again.  Either the piano or the guitar.  I'm fairly certain that if my parents are reading this they each, separately, just punched the computer screen upon reading my thoughts on taking up the piano after the years of shit I gave them about NOT wanting to play the piano.

So, it appears I have a bit of work to do.  I'd like to add a few things.  Things about writing and photography.  Things about improving my health and our finances.  Things about volunteering and working with other people.  I'd like to work on those things that are part of me that I see as faults.  I'd really like to try and improve myself along with accomplishing these things and I think that starts with one step at a time. 

What do I do first? Where do I begin?  We are all works in progress but I really feel like I need to pick one or two of these, master it, and then cross it off.  So, my lesson plans will get turned in on time for AT LEAST the next month and I'm going to look into getting some cds or an app that can help me learn Italian.  Maybe I'll even use it while I'm on the treadmill training for my half marathon and triathlon!

Baby steps.

Fight

I'm on my third day back at work and I think the fact that I have forgotten to put on deodorant every single morning should say something.  Other than that I smell at the end of the day.

Good thing I keep deodorant in my car at all times.

Really, I'm not sure I'm going to make it much longer.  I sent an email to a friend after first period on my first day back and all it said was, "I no longer love my job."  That's a lot for me.  I really used to love my job- even on the worst days.  I used to look forward to teaching and being with my students.  I looked forward to coming to work.  Now?  Now I get up in the morning and I dress and drive all over God's green earth to drop kids at respective schools and then I get to my school. 

And I work.

And then I drive all over again picking kids up and I head home.  I have not gotten home before 5pm either day this week and that means that I have just enough time to feed, homework and get my older two ready for bed before they actually go to bed.  The younger two spend their time eating and snoozing while everything goes on around them.  Minimal interaction between any of us.

Is this really how it's supposed to and going to be?

******

I'm not sure if you know Susan or have read her blog over at Toddler Planet but she was one of the very first blogs I read, along with her very good friend Canape over at Don't Take the Repeats.  Well, Susan has been fighting and battling and beating cancer for a number of years now but has now reached the point where that bastard cancer is, very very sadly, beating her body.  Not her spirit.  You must head over and read her story because only she does it justice.  But know she is probably one of the smartest and strongest fighters I have ever encountered! 

Susan's story and her life have really had me thinking.  Susan has two wonderful little boys that she loves to the end of the earth and back and I can only imagine that they, through all of this, have been at the forefront of her mind and heart. 

We have been very lucky with regards to our health, as a family.  The things we have gone through have been treated and taken care of and monitored.  We haven't had to battle things nearly as hard as others in and out of the blogosphere have.  But reading about Susan and her fight and also finding out that a good friend of mine was recently diagnosed with cancer has really brought a lot of new thoughts to the forefront.

Is working, if I don't really have to, worth it?

Do I want to get to a point where I miss firsts and seconds and thirds because I'm in a classroom somewhere or at a faculty meeting?

God forbid something happens to my husband or I, are we happy with the amount of time we've invested in our children and their happiness and well being?

There are so many what ifs.  And I know, we cannot live our lives based on the what ifs.  But am I living our life, my life, as a have to?  I have to go to work.  I have to have those extra dollars just in case.  I have to put my kids in certain schools or certain activities.  I have to, have to, have to.

I took it to the worst the other night and I thought about Susan as she and her family made the choice to bring in Hospice care.  What if it were us?  What if we were bringing in Hospice care, would I really be ok with the fact that I spent my last time on the earth, the majority of it, not with my family- my children?

I think everyone knows the answer to that.

But I really am afraid to walk into my principal's office and quit.  I'm afraid to walk away from my work.  I'm afraid of not having that paycheck- as meager as it is- to add to our bank account every two weeks.  I'm afraid that in 3 or 4 years when I decide that I want to be back in full time work, whatever that may be, I will be considered a dinosaur in the working world. 

I don't like to live my life, or my family's life, out of fear.  Whether that's fear of cancer or fear of leaving and jeopardizing my family's well-being.  But there has to be a better way.

If I have learned nothing else from Susan and her courageous and never-ending fight- and that's just what it has been, she has not given up her faith or her hope or her fight- it's that I need to make sure I do what is best for me and my family.  I need to fight for them, in every area of life and living.  I need to work past the fear of what lies ahead and just live.

But, as with all else, that is far easier said than done.

******
Please head over to Toddler Planet and check out Susan.  She really is a brilliant scientist and wonderful mother and, again, one of the strongest most courageous people I've encountered.

Home is Where the Heart is and Where I Think I Should Be

I sit here, in the midst of the chaos of my house right now, and think that there are days that this couldn't possibly be more rewarding and there are days where if given the chance I might possibly be willing to run away for an undetermined amount of time to an undisclosed location.

I go back to work on Monday and the thought of this not only reduces me to tears but it sends me into a tailspin of anxiety and fear.  It's right here where I feel like this post could go in two different directions.  Both related but both different.

So, I choose the fear and early motherhood angle for now and later we'll talk about the fun I feel will be coming down the road.

We had our first child, a boy, when I was 25 and my husband was 29.  We planned and tried and waited and anticipated our son and when he came along we were like deer in the headlights.  I stayed home for 9 weeks and when it was time to head back to the workforce, I was more than ready.  I could not fathom being a stay at home mom, it was NOT something that I desired.

Our second child came along, a big surprise, and staying home, again, was not a desire or an option.  I was able to be with her from her birth until she was about 6 months old courtesy of Summer vacation and while it was difficult to leave her, it was the right thing for me at the time.  The right thing for our family.

When we found out we were having twins my first thought was selfish and was all about whether or not I'd be able to continue working and coaching.  The thought, back in March of 2011, of staying home with twins, in our current home, was far too much for me to grasp.  There was no way I wanted that.  I needed to work, I needed to have adult interaction, I needed to be out of the house.

The girls came along and it was practically an instantaneous change of heart.  The thought of leaving them was heart-wrenching.  The idea that I would go and spend the day helping to raise and educate other people's children for a pittance, when my children were at daycare seemed grossly wrong to me.  Horribly wrong and definitely not what I wanted.

When one of my girls was put into a Wheaton Harness for her hips a few weeks ago I couldn't help but think that no one, save a few family members, would be able to care for her and meet her needs in the harness the way I could.  Then, when her reflux and digestion issues became so prevalent that she was vomiting on a regular basis and crying when she wasn't vomiting, I thought that some daycare worker was going to get so frustrated that she or he would harm my baby.

How could I possibly allow my children to go to daycare when I was sure that it wasn't the best place for them?

Right now, it's impossible for me to stay home. Two of our children's tuition depends on me working where I work.  I have already committed to returning and I feel that I need to follow through on that commitment and fulfill my contract.  There is a good chance that if our budgeting is correct, after daycare and bills we should have a little extra leftover to put away.  Which could mean that come September, I don't have to return to work for awhile.

What's the difference, though?  I've been trying to figure out why I am so willing and wanting to stay home now but couldn't even imagine it when my son and daughter were born.  Is there something to be said for having your children a little bit later on and that impacting your thoughts on being home or at work. Because at 25, I was young and stupid and naive.  Not every 25 year old is.  I just knew that I didn't want to be home, I had things to accomplish and work to do.  Is it that at this point, having two kids in daycare- even for three days- is just so costly that it doesn't make sense for both parents to work?  Or is it that I really have some anxieties that need to be dealt with, that I'm just too nervous to let go of my preemies and entrust them to a center that is beautiful and homey and filled with responsible, caring, adults?

Or is it all of those things and more?

I really don't know.  I do know that come Monday morning I am not going to enjoy walking out my door without my two baby carriers slung on each arm.  And I'm going to hate knowing that my girls are smiling and laughing and cooing for someone else during the day because I'm stuck in my classroom.  And I'm going to worry about those days that they're in daycare and whether or not they're being ignored or cared for properly or comforted when they cry or are uncomfortable.

In the end though, a lot of it goes back to the idea that having children gives us the opportunity to know what it's like to have our heart live outside our bodies and that motherhood gives us the highest highs and the lowest lows.  And that right now, this is hard and it's a low but, as with all else, this too shall pass.

And thank God for daycare mommy-cams.

And President's Day Break. 

Inspiration

My friend Kate started her own blog and I do believe that her desire to write is going to inspire my own.  Hopefully that means I'll be writing more here.  As well as possibly writing for an online magazine, too. We'll see.

In the meantime, head on over and check out Kate and her New Something....

Dear Beyonce

I haven't written since November and I'd like to say that I'm getting back into it, but I make no promises. 
The events of this past weekend and these articles have given me good enough reason to take to my keyboard and write a bit.

Dear Beyonce,

Congratulations on the birth of your daughter!  I hope that you and your family are settling in nicely and have been able to spend time together getting to know your new little bundle.  Welcome to the world of Motherhood and all that it brings with it.

I have a bone to pick with you, and your husband, though.

I've read the articles and heard the reports.  You and your husband paid a lot of money to ensure that you and your newborn have had the utmost privacy.  It's funny, when my husband and I welcomed each of our 4 kids we wanted privacy, too.  It's a time in your life, as a family, when you want to hunker down and get to know your new baby and protect them as much as possible.  I appreciate your desire to exhaust all of your resources to make sure that privacy happened. 

What I do not appreciate is the way that you taking your privacy has directly and negatively impacted other families experiencing the same life changing event as your family.

Maybe if my family and I had the kinds of money and resources that yours has we may have acted in the same way and paid enormous amounts of cash to block off areas to protect ourselves and our children.  I doubt it, though.

Maybe if I were as famous as you and your husband are I would recognize that my newborn child would be more popular than Jesus Christ and feel the need to remove other patients' family members from waiting rooms to preserve our privacy.  I doubt it, though.

Maybe if I were having my first child all over again my motherly instinct or my husband's fatherly instinct would be so overwhelmingly strong that I would feel the need to place bodyguards at all entrances to the hospital, floor, ward and nursery, as well.  I doubt it, though.

Beyonce, I know that I can't begin to understand what it's like to be you or your husband.  I cannot begin to fathom what constant paparazzi presence is like. Nor can I begin to know what it's like to have your every move, decision and garment choice scrutinized day in and day out.  I cannot say that I know what it's like to be able to spend over one million dollars on a nursery or what it feels like to have my music played on the radio and, well, everywhere else.

But Beyonce there is something that you and I can both now say we know something about and that is being a mom.  The moment your daughter let out her first cry- or really long before that- you joined the ranks of individuals who can say that they gave life to a child.  You have joined a community of individuals who will experience the greatest highs and the lowest lows.  You now know what it's like to grow child in your heart, and luckily for you in your womb as well.  You should now understand that the little person you have given life to takes precedence over everyone and everything else.  I have to believe that that is why you and your husband acted the way that you did.

I hope.

I'm not sure you understand, though, what you did to other families- if the articles are accurate.  You see, Beyonce, having a child- or two or more- in the NICU is an experience that I do not wish on anyone.  My family and I, and a number of my friends' families, were quite lucky in that our NICU experiences have resulted in wonderfully healthy babies.  But there are families behind those walls that don't always leave with their babies and those moments in the NICU are all the time they have with them.  I'm not sure of the extent of conditions that kept Mr. Coulon's twins in the NICU but I can tell you that if they were in that specialized unit of the hospital, the conditions were at least somewhat serious.

Beyonce, when your child, or children, go to the NICU it is nothing like when they go to the regular nursery.  In the regular nursery you are able to take your child out of their bassinet and hold them, usually, without the confines of wires and tubes.  You are able, usually, to have your baby come back to your room with you and spend endless hours getting to know one another in the privacy of your own room, or a shared room behind a curtain.  In the regular nursery, it's rare that your baby is there for longer than the duration of your own stay.  In the NICU, Beyonce, everything changes.  And as a parent who has had two children in the NICU for an extended period of time, I can tell you that there is no way to accurately describe the events and emotions that surround one's stay in the NICU.

Beyonce, what you need to know is that motherhood is always full of uncertainties and with your celebrity I know that it brings even more uncertainty and fear.  Motherhood and fatherhood to preemies, to babies in the NICU, brings with it experiences that many new parents will never know.  And thank God for that.  Many parents will never know what it's like to walk into the nursery or NICU and see that your baby has taken huge steps backwards from their earlier progress and they are re-hooked to oxygen and feeding tubes and back in an incubator.  Many parents will never know what it's like to walk into the NICU and hear that their child has an infection that requires IV medication or greater medical intervention.  Many parents will never know the uncertainty that comes with the day to day moments in the NICU and how things can change in less than the blink of an eye. 

That being said, many parents won't know the joys of the NICU either.  They will not know the devoted, caring and skilled nurses and doctors who personally and individually care for babies day in and day out.  They will not know the camaraderie that is shared between parents of NICU babies.  They will not know unbelievable joy that comes with a tiny milestone such as an ounce of weight gain or a wet diaper.  And they may never know the way the words 'car seat challenge' can bring tears of joy and anticipation to the eyes of NICU parents.

Beyonce, I share all of this with you (virtually) because in your desire to protect your newborn baby you made it impossible for other parents to do exactly the same thing.  And while I appreciate your desire to be selfish in caring for your newborn and your family, I really wish you had risen above yourself and your money and recognized how your actions hurt and inhibited other families.  I had hoped you were better than that. 

Having a baby changes us in ways that we cannot even know until it actually happens.  And each baby or babies brings new emotions, choices, and reactions that we cannot anticipate or deal with until we are in it.  I only wish that you had, for one moment, realized that all of the men and women in the Maternity Ward at Lennox Hill Hospital were experiencing at least slightly similar emotions and reactions to your own and thought of that before you denied access and removed people from their families and their children.  I can't imagine that if the roles had been reversed and Mr. Coulon had tried to deny you or your family access to your newborn that you would have taken it lying down, so to speak.

So, Beyonce, congratulations on your new bundle of joy.  May she bring you and your family every ounce of happiness and unexpected joy that you could ever want.  And may she also bring you the understanding that while she is the center of your universe, you are not the center of the universe.

Sincerely,

Me

Cleaning out

Randoms because it's all my brain can handle right now.

* I don't understand why people will, essentially, stalk my blog(s) but refuse to have conversations with me.
* I ordered a pair of Nine West shoes that just arrived the other day.  They are amazing and I was so excited to wear them with the hot pink dress I had ordered for my husband's Christmas party.  The dress doesn't fit and I can't push myself with exercise for the next two weeks, so now I don't know what I'm wearing to the party. 
Yoga pants and the Nine West sparkle shoes.
* I've learned to ignore people in public places when they say, "Oh, look, Twins!" and then wait for me to stop and reply.  My children are not for your viewing pleasure.
* EVERYWHERE needs to have drive-thrus! I drove 20 minutes out of my way today just to mail out the girls' birth announcements because I knew of one post office that had a drive up mailbox.
* I'm going house hunting tomorrow, again.  I would say that I have been in AT LEAST 50 homes looking for the "right" one.
* If we don't find a house soon I'm not sure my sanity will survive.
* I finally chose a therapist and called today at 10am.  Had to leave a message.  Still haven't heard back.  Not helping.
* I'm actually looking forward to the prospect of possibly being able to stay home at the end of this school year.
* I have done our laundry and dishes more times in the past 4 weeks than I have in the past 4 years.
* I'm not nearly as excited about Christmas this year as I have been in the past and the thought of decorating in any way, shape, or form has no appeal to me.
* I'm taking all 4 kids to the beach on Saturday to, hopefully, take our Christmas card photos.  I would rather just sit on the beach and stare at the water for awhile.
* I'm really pissed that my new dress doesn't fit.  It means I'm "bigger" than I thought I was.  Not helping.
* Neither of the girls has smiled yet and it's frustrating to see people who had babies at the same time as me posting their babies smiling.
* Learning to deal with the fact that because the girls are preemies means that they may do things at a slower pace has actually been harder than caring for them.
* I'm back on Weight Watchers.  Take that for what you will.
* I got on an elliptical machine for 20 minutes the other day and it felt really good.  I plan to increase my time when I get back on tomorrow.
* I worry that I won't be able to coach come Spring and how that will actually affect my mental state- with or without therapy.
* I really want to start packing up our house now even though we have no prospects to move in to.
* My husband just put on Beavis and Butthead and I actually want to rip my own ears off.
* My car is a disaster and it annoys the crap out of me every time I get into it.  I hate driving it now because it's so messy.
* I think bringing home the twins has forced me to be more organized and neater.  This is frustrating for me because I think bringing the girls home has actually forced my husband to become more disorganized and messy.
* Sometimes I think that I want to rent a dumpster for a week and use it to just clean out the whole house.  I feel like the fact that our dumpster is all the way down the street is a huge hindrance to me actually cleaning out.
* Clearly, I needed to clean out my mind tonight and that's where this is all coming from.

Say What?!

Maybe it's the way I was raised or that maybe I'm not nearly as nosy as my husband and family seem to think I am but I don't go up to complete strangers and inquire on their reproductive tendencies or the status of their bodily functions.

I have found, since giving birth to our twin girls, that not only is having two at once completely different at home than having just one but when you go out it's like you're a walking circus attraction.

"Come one, come all!  Look, the woman pushing the mack truck stroller has two infants at once! You won't want to miss this and don't forget to ask every inappropriate question possible of this stranger!!"

Seriously, people out there have some balls.  And they like to stare, too!

I've had some interesting questions over the past few weeks.  I've been venturing out little by little because my sanity needs it and I need to actually make sure that my kids have food and I do have errands to run.  The most common question, and definitely NOT inappropriate, is "Are they twins?"  I try not to give back a snarky response because maybe people don't realize that the two, almost equally sized, infants in my mack truck were born at the same time.  Or maybe they think I'm the hot young nanny of two families and these are just my two totally unrelated charges.

or not.

I also get other innocent questions like, "are they both girls?" or "are they identical?" or "what are their names?"  All things that I got in singleton form when my son and daughter were born.  Things I don't mind answering because I know that people love babies and, you know what, my babies are pretty dang cute!

But, for every innocent question there are two or three completely inappropriate questions.  And when I say inappropriate, I mean inappropriate for total strangers to ask me while standing in the middle of Target.  Not inappropriate for friends or family to ask in the right context- like they ask me if it's ok to ask me some personal questions.

Yesterday took the cake in terms of inappropriate questions and luckily I had friends with me to witness this.  People close to me can't believe what strangers say to me and I think they can't believe it because they would never say those things to me and most of them are related to me!

So, I'm in a popular craft store with all four of my kids and two very good friends.  I'm standing off to the side with the mack truck stroller waiting for everyone to be ready to head up front and pay.  I'm keeping my head down, checking on the twins and keeping to myself- I've found that if I don't make eye contact people won't say anything to me.  All of a sudden this woman approaches me- she has three children (pre-teens) in tow and she also has on some of the most hideous teal/blue eyeliner and iridescent lipstick and of course she's chewing gum WITH HER MOUTH OPEN!  And here is how our conversation went-

"Oh, two at once...isn't it hard? I had two at once, I didn't think I'd make it. It was so hard. Did you do IVF?"

I am not shitting you. She jumped right into the pool with both feet and no clothes on, figuatively.

"Uh....no, no IVF."

"WOW! So you conceived them naturally?! Wow...so hard.  Well, good luck."

And that was it.  She walked away at that point.  And as she walked away and left my friends with their mouths hanging open I thought of what I should have said instead of "uh....no, no IVF".  I should have said, "Nope, no IVF, just one night of that really crazy wild sex that no one likes to talk about but only really special people get to have." and then I should have walked away.

I get it, I really do, people LOVE babies and when there are two it's even better.  And do not get me wrong, my children- ALL OF THEM- are miracles, our twins are especially unique because we did go through a loss before we had them.  But I don't think the fact that I have twins and that I've chosen to venture out of my home with them to be so incredible that it gives perfect strangers the right to inquire on mine and my husband's conception method or whether or not my boobs are leaking.

My children are not circus freaks and I would love to talk with you if you have something supportive or funny to say or if you own a bar and give out free beers to moms.  And if you want to ask me innocent things about my children, any of them, or tell me how awesome they are or how cute they are or how fabulous I look almost 6 weeks after delivery and with 40 extra pounds on....FEEL FREE. 

Other than that, please, think twice before you decide to say something because, really, your questions and comments, when inappropriate, are not wanted and rude and don't help my already shaky mental well being.  And you don't want to be the one I dump two very full bottles of smelly, gross, preemie formula on.

I KNOW it

They say that the hardest part is admitting you have a problem or that you need help.  That you can't get the help you need and heal until you say, "I need help. There is something wrong that needs to be fixed."

Not so for me.

I know I need to see a therapist.  My doctor has been saying since we found out we were having twins, "Make sure you find someone to talk to after the babies are born. You will need it."  My husband has said it.  My mother has said it.  And I have said it to myself.

I KNOW that I need help. 

I KNOW that I need to talk with someone.

I KNOW I'm having a hard time right now.

I can easily admit all of that.

The hardest part for me?  Actually making the phone call.

My insurance company has provided me with a list of therapists that take our plan.  There are women, men, close by ones, far away ones, ones who have evening hours, one who have daytime hours.  I have my pick of more than a dozen.  But for some reason, I cannot pick up the phone.

Part of it is trying to fit it into our schedule is hard.  I have two older children who have activities and school and go to a school that is more than 45 minutes away from where we live.  I have a husband who works long hours practically 7 days a week.  And I have two newborns that require a lot of care and attention.

And don't say it, I already KNOW it.

I need to take care of myself.  I need to take care of my mental well being.

I KNOW.

Part of it is also that even though my insurance company gave me in network providers I'm worried about cost.  What cost will come back to me?  We can't afford it right now.  We're trying to get rid of our house and move.  I'm trying to buy everything we need to eat with coupons.  And we're seriously considering me staying home full time next year.  And to top it off I decided to check out our pending insurance claims and found that just ONE of the girls' claims is over $93,000!  Hopefully it will be approved and covered but there are nights I lay awake thinking, "What if it's not? How in God's name will we ever pay off over $300,000 worth of medical bills?!?!"

I KNOW we'll manage no matter what and my well being is far more important than bills.

And really part of it is that there are days where I feel really good.  Like that feeling of anxiety and sadness and disconnect has passed.  Like I'm starting to see pieces of my old self and my "normal" self.  But just like that it could be gone.  And that's when I really know I need to call.

But for some reason I have not been able to make the phone call.  And I need to.

I KNOW it.

Oh, Didn't you Know?!

I keep telling myself I'm going to sit down and write each day.  I need to use this space like I did after my daughter was born because, along with an excellent therapist, this space helped me sort through a lot of my PPD issues.

And don't you know that having twins AND having had PPD in the past pretty much guarantees that you're going to develop PPD all over again!?

Oh, you didn't know that?

That's probably because you didn't have every single individual around you telling you that for the past 10 months.

I have.

So, yes, just to cover the bases and let you know what my t-shirt is going to say when it's printed here we go:
1. They are not identical
2. They are both girls
3. Yes, they were preemies
4. Yes my hands are full
5. No, they are not my first
6. Yup, 3rd and 4th.
7. Interestingly enough, and not that it's ANY of YOUR business but we are done having kids.
8. I am aware that it's very likely that I'll develop postpartum depression because I've had twins
9. No, I am not nursing but thanks for inquiring about the state of my breasts
10. Yes, I am tired but I've been tired for the past 7 years so, really, adding two babies to the mix didn't really upset the already overturned apple cart.
11.  And, no, you cannot hold them because I'm pretty sure you're hands are filthy because you probably don't wash after you pee.

All of that, of course, will go on the front.  I'm trying to figure out an image for the back....it's either going to be the famous Uncle Sam pose or maybe just the phrase, "Honk if you're horny" to throw people off.

So, yeah, I need to use this space more.  I need to write more.  I need to make an appointment for a therapist.  I need to go for a run.  I need to wash the hair dye from last night's home dye job off my forehead.  I need to find a house to live in that isn't so far out in east bumble that I want to cry everytime I go home.  I need to figure out how exactly we're going to afford 4 kids because right now, we're not.  I need to think about whether or not it really will make sense for me to stay home with my kids next year or if daycare is worth the expense.  I need to use my Groupon for my spa mani/pedi by this Friday or I'm out $45 bucks.  I need to find sweaters for ALL of my kids so that I can haul them down the shore for a day at the beach and to take our Christmas card photo.

There's a lot more I need to do.  And some of those things I want to do, too.  It's not all this big heaping mound of shit on my plate but right now it sometimes feels like it. 

And all I really want is for everything to be drive thru accessible so that I don't have to worry about how exactly I'm going to carry my nonfat latte out of Starbucks while holding two baby carriers.

Because, really, I have my hands full right now and I don't think I needed to print that on a t-shirt for everyone to know it.

Two Weeks

I wish that I had been chronicling our past two weeks in a regular manner.

I wish that I had written that first night or day after giving birth. 

I wish that I had written about being separated from the two children I grew for 33weeks and 5 days. 

I wish a lot of things had gone somewhat differently but they went the way that they did for a reason and I'm seeing that now....sort of.

But we're two weeks into this adventure and I didn't write a lot of it down but I'm going to now.  We've spent two weeks living in the NICU.  Two weeks of looking at our babies and seeing tubes and monitors and then looking next to us and seeing much worse.  Two weeks of commuting to the hospital and doing feedings and waiting for timelines and good news and bad news. 

Two weeks of watching our babies grow outside of me and inside incubators and hospital walls.

And if anyone tries to tell you that NICU is easy or it doesn't affect them or having their kids there was no big deal, they are (pardon my language) fucking liars.

So, the past two weeks have been like that roller coaster ride from "Parenthood" except there were points where the tracks veered where they weren't supposed to and other points where the cars on the tracks detached and points where the ride just stopped altogether.

And even though I didn't write about them over the past two weeks, I'm going to now.  And I'm going to write about our two beautiful daughters that are tiniest, sweetest and funniest creatures I've ever seen- next to their older siblings.

Sawdust

I want you to know my grandpa.  Not because he passed away tonight.  Not because he was my grandpa.  But because he was what every grandfather should be.

I am extremely blessed.  I was able to spend many years getting to know the men that helped to raise my parents.  For the early period of my life I lived moments away from my mother's father and many of my afternoons and weekends were spent with my grandfather and grandmother.  My mother's father passed away a few years ago and it was hard to say goodbye but knowing that alzheimer's and parkinson's had taken over his body helped me to see the benefit in his going to be with God.

My father's father was so very different and yet very much the same as my other grandfather.  I can't pinpoint the exact differences...well, I could, but really I want to talk to you about grandfather...not give you a compare and contrast.

What do I think of when I think of my grandfather?  There are a few things that come to mind.

I think of his Naval hats- he always seemed to have a different hat with a different boat on them.  He was in the Navy- a radio man.  But he was different and made sure that people knew it- he was not on the front lines, other men were.  There was a distinction between him and those that went off to fight and he never let it be forgotten that his job in the Navy was not that of a soldier on the front lines.

I think of his chair.  Oh my goodness, his chair.  The earliest chair of his that I remember was this dark-ish blue fabric.  And NO ONE except grandpa sat it in.  Usually.  I managed to weasel my way into the chair quite often.  There were surprises in the chair or really around the chair.  There was the keyboard behind the chair that was especially for the grandkids.  It was always in the box.  The batteries were never dead.  And we were never NOT allowed to play it.  Then there was the cabinet next to the chair.  I only discovered this cabinet AFTER my grandfather pointed it out to me.  The cabinet housed all sorts of things but mainly it housed cheez-its or graham crackers.  HIS SNACKS.  They always tasted better when they came out of the cabinet because it felt like I was sharing something with him that no one else might have been able to. 

His chair, not the same blue one, still sits in the corner of the living room.  It's there and it's like the focal point of the room, after the rifle that hangs just above the couch.  The chair has the perfect sight line for, well, everything.  From his chair, my grandfather could see the TV, the front porch, who was driving up the driveway, who came into the house and what was going on in the kitchen.  Whereas, when I think of my mother's parents I think of their dining room table and the meals we shared around it.  When I think of my grandfather, I think of that chair and the times we spent trying to get into it and be near him.

What else comes to mind when I think of my grandfather?

Grilled chicken.  Other than my husband, I don't think I've ever seen anyone consume as much grilled chicken as my grandfather.  And really it was more in the past few years that he clung on to that grilled chicken, but in the numerous lunches I ate with him, I'm not sure I saw him eat much more than grilled chicken. 

Sawdust.  What?  Yes, sawdust.  My grandfather, for so many years, was a woodworker.  Not by trade.  Not as his career.  But his hobby.  Something he enjoyed.  Something that so many of us in our family benefitted from.  I hated going in the basement at my grandparents' house because the steps scared the shit out of me but I knew that once I got to the bottom of the steps there was a stool there that I could sit on and watch my grandfather, and usually my dad, work together on a project or simply cut a piece of wood that was needed to repair something.  Occasionally, I'd get to work the table saw.  I'd get to paint something or hammer something.  I was never ever ignored and there was always something to see, learn, or hear down there.  When the workshop was moved out to the barn nothing changed except for location. And I didn't have to use those freakishly shabby steps!  There was always the smell of cut wood and sawdust all over the workshop, the barn, my grandfather.  I'm not sure exactly when it was that I realized that the workshop really wasn't getting used anymore but I do remember feeling a sense of sadness knowing that my grandfather wasn't really going out there anymore.

I could talk more about these places or things but I don't think I'm giving you picture that I want you to have.  I want you to know about the selflessness that he had.  I want you to understand what he did for his family.  I want you to know how he would sit with me and lovingly mock his own children and their ridiculousness.  I want to share with you the things I KNOW he only said to me- like how when he and my grandmother were raising their mess of children they never had enough money but when they needed it, it always came through.  It was always there.  Those have been words that have comforted me as my husband and I try to navigate raising a much smaller family.  They were also words that made my father laugh out loud when I shared them with him. 

I want you to understand that my grandfather was a man who never, ever, stopped working even up until this, his last day.  He worked his way up in his company.  He worked to raise his family in the best way he possibly could.  He worked to show his grandchildren love and comfort and humor in everything he did.  And today he worked to keep breathing so that my son and I could spend some time with him before he left to be in a far better place than this one.

I want for you to know that my children will hear wonderful stories of him and the things he did and said during his life.  My children and my grandchildren, God willing, will know that he loved life and he loved his family and friends unceasingly.  They will see pictures and papers that help to tell the story of his life.  They will see doll cradles and book cases and Christmas decorations all lovingly handcrafted in his workshop.  They will get a piece of my grandfather, their Big Grandpa, that only memories can give them. 

I want for you to know more than I can put here because I could really go on forever.  The sarcasm, the cheek that was always put up and waiting for a kiss when you arrived at his home, the love for his ridiculous poodle that often was treated better than family members, the numerous fake chickens in the living room whose presence is still unexplained, the boats and ships and nautical decorations that kept him in touch with his love of the beach and the ocean, and so much more.  I really could go on forever.

More than anything else, I want you to know that while I know, because of my faith and his, that he has gone on to a better place free from suffering, pain, and illness and full of friends and family, it sucks to be left behind.  But I cling to my memories, I cling to the memories of my family, the stories, the photos that have been everywhere lately thanks to my wonderful cousin.  I cling to the fact that it is my job to make sure that my children know their Big Grandpa.  And I tell you all of this because knowing him has made me a better person who truly knows love and I firmly believe that you knowing this little piece of him will help you to know love, as well.


And I want you to know that every time I smell cut wood and sawdust, I will forever think of my grandfather and miss him.