My Heart Going Boom Boom Boom and Set Your Tivos

My Heart Going Boom Boom Boom and Set Your Tivos

Well, I am glad no one listened to me and said nice things anyway. Thank you so much for your advice, words of encouragement and connections. I, like most members of the human race, appreciate empathy and need and crave validation and praise. Nicole provides that for me, but, alas, praise from a partner is a double-edged sword: Too much and it is diluted and too little and it is an issue. I think we are in the too much category because when she says those things I think, yeah right. Besides, I have never been one to accept a compliment gracefully. How can she think that I am doing a good job when I can barely manage to vacuum up the giant tumbleweeds in this apartment? Or when she comes home to daughters with yogurt crusted in their hair? Or when I call her daily at 4:59 p.m. and ask when she is leaving? And she isn’t the most equitable observer: After all, if I asked her if I was doing a good job, would she never say “Well, actually, you are doing horrifically.” What is going to do? Fire me?

Yes, we need a babysitter. Badly. We have known this for a while, but I am so stubborn and often stand in my own way. I put the brakes on because the idea of idea makes me so uncomfortable. It feels like an admission of failure; it is a leap of faith for a control freak like myself; it requires me to step WAY outside my comfort zone. And no, I don’t think those who use babysitters are failures, flippant or foolish. But don’t we all hold ourselves to such harsher and different standards than we do others? Barnard has a babysitting service and I will look into that after we get back from Florida. Yes, I am putting it off, but at least it is on my to-do list.

I have been listening to Solsbury Hill on repeat ALL morning. Such a great song, but maybe unhealthy to hear 70 times in a row.

This morning is better, if only microscopically so. The thing about having kids is your really don’t have the luxury of dwelling very long in an existential pit. Actually, that maybe isn’t just a having-kids thing; it is a age-related thing. Back in the day, I could go round and round the same circles of emotions with little collateral damage. But now I have a much bigger incentive to figure to out and move on. It gets tiring after a while.

The day started at 4:45 a.m., as usual. As I was getting my coffee, I stepped on an Elmo game in the kitchen that screeched “TRY AGAIN.” This is how my morning began. How appropriate. I love when lessons and metaphors pop out of nowhere. I spend so much time trying to make sense of it all and look at that: The answers and mantras are sometimes right in front of my eyes, no digging required. Later, the girls ate a great breakfast: Scrambled eggs and a banana and grapes and Cheerios, which makes me feel like they deserve a Noble prize for eating such a balanced meal or I deserve a Nobel prize for providing one. It’s the little things.

I took myself to Slumdog Millionaire last night. Such a great movie. Go see it if you can. For two hours, it really puts one’s life in perspective. It has a great soundtrack too.

One of our own will be making her television debut on Wednesday! I complain about how hard two can be: She has TWO sets of twins and an older daughter! I read how she handles it on her blog, and can’t wait to see in person. Well, sort of in person. I wish she lived near me so I could have her on the list of people I intend to visit but never do (I really need to work on my taking-the-girls-on-the-road thing). It’s called Five Under Five and it is on the Discovery Health (channel 115 here in NYC) at 8:00.

The girls are really quiet, which is never a good thing. Last time that happened (yesterday) a roll of toilet paper was destroyed.