Let's Talk About Fat, Shall We?

We women far and wide (I’m assuming that not a single man has stumbled upon this blog…) seem to suffer in spades from body issues/weight issues/food issues. Not every woman, but a lot of us have dabbled in these dangerous territories at one point or another in our lives. Right?

So that is why the latest issue of Us magazine really pisses me off. On it is Trista Sutter, an E list celebrity (I feel mean today, but why is she relevant?) who was on the Bachelor Show or Bachelorette show, whatever. I am a reality TV fan, but I never could watch these type of dating shows. Give me Amazing Race and Survivor and Top Chef, but you can keep those ridiculous shows that have women (or men) groveling for love and affection or makeovers.

Anyway, this cover feature explores Trista’s ridiculousness in detail. Just THREE months after giving birth to her son, she is upset that her body is not back to “normal.” Three months, people. Some loser told her she would be back in her pre-pregnancy clothes before she left the hospital (what the fuck?) and she believed her.

Trista says she is 116 pounds (a weight I haven’t seen since, what, middle school?) and that she feels unattractive and unsexy. Her goal is to fit into a pair of jeans and also to wear sexy clothes again. (Nice goals.) She drops all sorts of crap about how hot she used to be and talks about how she put a picture of her with H*ward Stern on her fridge as incentive. She also has pictures of herself up looking “good” and wants her son to see how hot she used to be. Yuck. But now, she walks around her house in oversized hoodies and sweatpants because she is ashamed of her weight. Gosh, maybe I should cover up when I am home and hide myself too from the love of my life. (Yes, I am being sarcastic.)

A quote from Us Magazine:

What bothers you the most?

“My belly. It has a layer of fat, which, of course, your body has to put on, but it’s blubbery and I hate it. I want to be able to go bathing suit shopping for a vacation and not feel totally disgusted…I just don’t feel good in a lot of my clothes.”

Cue the violins. And, wow, “hate” and “disgusted” are such strong words.

Wow. She JUST had a baby. What does she think her stomach would look like? And so many women would beg, borrow and steal to be in her shoes (or, according to her, giant unsexy clothing). Would do anything to make it through to the other side of infertility with a baby and a bigger body.

I don’t know who to blame here. Us magazine missed its mark…there is so much more to Trista’s story that is interesting. She had a traumatic birth (HELLP syndrome, gestational diabetes and premature birth via C section, for goodness sake). She also, according to some, suffered from infertility. But Us decides to focus on her body? They even put a pre-pregnancy pic of her in a belly shirt (who wears these anymore??) on their cover. Who cares?

She says her husband says she looks great but she doesn’t believe her really means it; she thinks he just says it because he is a good husband. Yet she also admits that he wags his finger and says “uh uh uh” if she tries to eat something she “shouldn’t.”

I can’t even imagine having my partner monitor my eating like that. Talk about fanning the fires of food issues. Nicole never tells me to give up my daily ice cream and never objects when I plow through a bag of pretzels. The only time she intervenes is when I eat popcorn. And that is because even small amounts of popcorn make me popcorn sick. But for some reason I have NO ability to stop until I finish the entire bag. And, oh my, I LOVE my fake movie theater butter! And we both know if I buy a pint of Caramel Cone then we will split it and finish it in one night.

Why did this article bother me so much? Maybe it hits a little too close to home. And I can’t sit here and pretend that I don’t look in the mirror myself and wonder what happened to my body and miss my old body (sometimes). I struggle with it to, but I try to put it back in perspective.

I gained 60 pounds. 60 pounds. That is a lot of weight in a short period of time. I’ve lost the 60 pounds, but things aren’t how they used to be. Let’s talk about the belly. There is a lot of it still there. Little rolls, soft and pudgy, perfect for little feet to stand on. It must feel like standing on jelly to the girls. If I eat too much in a meal or a day or a week (and I do all of these things), my belly kinda blows up like a watermelon. Tall and oval but not quite as firm. It has a memory like a steel trap, my belly! It has the extra skin, perfect for expansion. It remembers being stretched to its limits and, apparently, it kinda like being like that. I will never have a rock-hard, “perfect” body, and I am fine with that. Because that means I can eat pretzels and ice cream and the occasional tub of popcorn. I can eat two slices of pizza for dinner and slowly widdle away a third piece sliver by sliver. And my old body didn’t have babies. I am proud of a body that carried twins for 37 and a half weeks.

I have a scar that reminds me where my babies came from. My little zipper. Long and red and elevated. My breasts hang in such a way that I know they will never be perky (not that they ever were… D cups are good for cleavage, if that is what you like, but not good for perkiness). My belly button looks just bizarre now. My stomach has a decided oval shape. But I have a respect for my body that I didn’t always have, brough on by age and maturity and probably a little therapy. I am not abusive like I sued to be, like when I used to go to the gym twice a day and cut back my calorie intake to like 500 calories a day…talk about unhealthy.

But I don’t want to minimize my own issues. I am very much an all or nothing person. When I am in control, I am very controlled. But when I am not in control, wow. I can scare myself. But more on that another day...


Pictured above is me, taken with Photobooth on my computer. Notice the oval belly, the misshapen belly button, the scar, the bra-less breasts, hanging w-a-y down there. The bags under my eyes. Far from perfect but I am ok with that.

*oops...edited to add the pciture uplink feature isn't working. I'll add the pictures later today. **two pictures up and one to go....

Karma Deposit

Really, no one deserves to be experiencing what this woman
is experiencing. After all the hell she has been through and now this….a false positive hepatitis C test has stopped her shared donor IVF cycle in its tracks. Due to federal laws, the egg recipient is out of the picture, period, end of story. But to have to throw away her 20 or so perfectly perfect eggs because of a lack of money? There ought to be a law.

Insurance-less, she is paying for everything out of her pocket. And her pocket is pretty lean, since she is currently not working so she can be her grandmother’s 24-hour a day caretaker. Talk about selfless....

Think of this as a deposit into your karma account…and donate something/anything to Cal’s cause. When have you had the chance to be a part of creating a life? Seriously, any bit helps. There is a Donate to IVF button on the right.

Pictured above, fall leaves for Calliope. On top of everything, on her trip up north for cycle monitoring, she doesn’t even get to experience the beauty of fall, since we are in the middle of a global warming heat wave up here in the northeast.

The Greeeaaatttest LOOVE of ALLLL!!!!!!!

Let me preface this post by officially stating that both Nicole and I love our children equally. That said, I must talk about Nicole’s very special love affair with Madeline!

Maddie LOVES Nicole. Loves loves love her. I won’t say more than me, because I am sure she has equal love for us (Ha!) but let’s just say my approval rating doesn’t really go up until Nicole is no longer an option. In the Coke/Pepsi challenge of Favorite Mom I would lose ever time! I’m okay with that because my theory is I will just bribe the kids when they get older and Mommy goes to work. Besides, we already know Nicole is going to be the stricter Mom so that alone will elevate my standing as well.

We think this bond is extra tight because from Day1 Nicole has been responsible for feeding Maddie and putting Her Maddiness to bed, while I took on Avery. It’s just the way it played out. By the time we thought of switching, to keep things balanced, Maddie was so entrenched in her nighttime routine that we thought why risk it? And who would want to disrupt this bond??

It’s cute when Maddie sees Nicole, how she responds to her voice, the big gummy smiles she gives her. She’ll sit with her at Nicole’s desk while Nicole is doing work. Sit on her lap and watch football on Sunday. But at night, the cuteness is over the top. I would take pictures if it weren’t for the flash. Nicole and Maddie are wrapped up in each other in the most adorable way. Nicole is usually on her side, with her hand on Maddie. And Maddie is on her side, facing Nicole with her mini hand on Nicole’s chest. Sometimes she is nuzzled into the crook of Nicole’s arm. And sometimes the are both on their backs, arms flung over their heads, softly snoring in sync.

Avery at night is so different. For reasons I don’t know she is suddenly waking again in the middle of the night and acting like it is time to start the day. This is any time between usually 2 and 4. She will coo and smile and grunt and make noises until you roll over and say something to her. If you look at her, it’s over. She looks at you right in the eye (she has had a while to adjust to the dark so she has cat-like vision now) and smiles the biggest smile you have every seen. And she has this innocent look on her face like “Hey, you’re up too? What a coincidence!” Who can say no to that face?

I couldn’t say no to that face, so I got up at 4 today. I settled her down with a bottle and then I held her on the couch till she fell asleep. Bad thing is I feel asleep too and since I turned the alarm off Nicole didn’t wake me up so I could go to the gym. Not starting my day off at the time really sets me back. The thing is I need to be up way before the girls get up. This makes sure I have the energy to go through the day with them. Without the gym to kick start my day, I am much more lethargic. We’ll have to take lots of stroller walks today to compensate.

We need a nighttime routine for Avery pronto. This is Maddie’s: She gets a kiss goodnight from me; she is placed in front of her sister so she can stare blankly at her while her sister returns the same blank stare, and then she disappears into our bedroom, where Nicole reads her Goodnight Moon (while she screams her head off), then gives her a bottle while nestled in the rock of Nicole’s arm, then a pacifier and finally sleep. The whole process takes anywhere between 10 and 20 minutes, depending on how much bottle she has and how long she needs to be held before Nicole can s-l-o-w-l-y withdraw her arm and pad softly out of the room. Avery we put on the play mat and let her play herself to sleep. Or we carry her around until her eyes slowly close. Or, if we are lucky. We sit with her on the couch and can read or watch TV or internet surf while she [hopefully] eases into a restful state.

What I wish, I wish she would nestle on my shoulder and sleep. If she did I would sit with her forever, But mostly she kicks and squirms until I turn her around, let her face me and practice standing. Sometimes she falls asleep standing up, and her little legs buckle under the weight of her giant tummy like marionette legs.

We are going to Northampton to leaf peep the last weekend of October and I am so excited. I hope it is high color! Fall is my favorite season and I am particular excited this year because I have a big fall leaf craft project, so I am excited to collect leaves. I
will post pictures when it is done.

Anyway, we are also going the second week in November and we might look at some houses, which bring us one step closer to getting a weekend retreat. We have to do that, or get a bigger apartment, because while the four of us in our apartment is doable, it does get cramped. Especially with all the girls’ stuff. But bigger apartments in NYC don’t come cheap! The market here is still strong. And your money doesn’t go far. We looked at a three bedroom apartment a couple of weeks ago. The bedrooms were all one after the other, so you had to walk through each one to get to the next. The kitchen and both bathrooms are prewar and need updating. The moldings and paint and floors all needed to be redone. Easily this place needed 100K of work. Maybe more. Asking price? 1.6 million dollars. And, to make it even more ridiculous, the monthly maintenence was $2600! That’s before mortgage and taxes! Outside of NYC, 1.6 million would go a very l-o-n-g way. It amazes me how not-far it goes here in the city.

Pictured above is Nicole and the girls in their new rocking chair. Next comes Miss Maddie in her new winter hat, a gift from her Auntie Nancy (holding Mads) and Auntie Annie. And who-can-say-no-to-that-face Avery?!

Everything's Coming Up Rosie *

On this hot, sticky, muggy and humid summer-in-October day, I strapped the girls into their stroller and took them to B&N to buy Rosie O’Donnell’s new book and have it signed by her. I was prepared to bail out at any moment. The girls tend to fuss or cry when their stroller stops moving (or goes into an elevator). And then there might be diaper issues of spit up issues or rain issues. Anyway, the LOVED waiting on line. Absolutely loved it. To think I try so hard to entertain when them when what they really want is…to wait on line (I grew up on Long Island…we say on line). They smiled at strangers and laughed and played with the toys I have clipped to the side of their seats. They ate and napped and observed and all was going swimmingly until the last 15 minutes, when both decided they needed to be held rightnoworelse.

There was a kindness-of-strangers moment when a security guard came up to us while we were waiting outside on line and said “Come with me.” At first my heart dropped and I shuffled through the last hour to try to remember if I did anything wrong/illegal. But he assured me all was well and told me to follow him. I did, once again showing my gullibility. I’ll follow anyone with an earpiece or a clipboard. He brought me inside to where the signing was going to be and told me he didn’t like seeing babies outside in the grime and drizzly rain. So so nice. He also brought in people in wheelchairs and on crutches.

So we ended up first in line. First! I felt bad, since there were die-hards who were probably waiting on line for days, but what can you do. We were up front in the line anyway. But first!

You could tell when Rosie came into the signing area because there were thousands of flashes from the photographers there. I was trying to figure out how I was going to push the stroller while carrying Maddie and the books and the bottles and the burp cloth and all that when Rosie came over and asked the babies’ names and how old they were. Then she asked if she could hold Maddie. She took Maddie and there was another round of flashes from the photographers. I tried to get a picture of her holding Maddie and the result was not so good. Not one of my better picture-taking moments. But look how cute Maddie is! She stared at Rosie and I think it may be because she kinda looks like Nicole. Same coloring/hair. Then again, Maddie is going through a stage where I think she thinks everyone is her mother.

In my previous pre-babies life, I interviewed celebrities here and there and some of them were so pretentious. In that previous life, I went to a publishing party that Rosie was at (during her Rosie O’Donnell show days) and she was with a cluster of people and seemed so distant, for lack of a better word. I can’t wait to read this new book, and her take on fame and its trappings. This time, seeing her, Rosie just seems like a genuinely nice person; down-to-earth. And you can tell she really cares about the charities/causes she supports. And we see eye-to-eye politically. And we both share an obsession with Barbra Streisand. Anyone who loves Barbra is ok in my book.

It’s October. It is supposed to be chilly. I should be in a sweater and maybe a scarf at night. I should be able to wear my new boots. I should be eating more caramel apples. I should be pulling out my turtlenecks. Instead, I am pre-cooling the bedroom at night and taking yet another cooking hiatus.

Is it wrong that I am sitting here blogging while Maddie plays in her exer-saucer and watching a tivo'd Dancing with The Stars? Does that make me a bad mom?'

Pictured above is Maddie and Rosie. Under that is Maddie in her exer-saucer thingy, which she loves. And below that is a picture of Miss Avery, all 15-plus pounds of her!

* Sorry for the bad pun.

Randomness With A Chewy Center

We spent a long weekend on Fire Island and it was amazing. We stayed at our friends house, but they weren’t there, so we had the whole place to ourselves (and the chatty caretaker). I had the irrational fears that maybe just maybe the caretaker would murder us in the middle of the night (unprovoked by anything…just my ridiculousness). This is how my mind works. Alas, we lived to enjoy ourselves. We didn’t do much, which is exactly what I wanted to do. Strolled along the ocean, collected seashells, walked the boardwalks, read a little. The scenery was great. We could see the water from our bed. Crickets lulled us to sleep (we didn’t even need to turn on the noise machine for the girls!). The weather was great. It was paradise, as it always is.

Every time we are there, we think how nice it would be to have a place there. We talk about it all the way home. And every time we reach the same conclusion: It is a barrier island that will someday be washed away back into the ocean. Not the best place to invest in real estate. Plus, while it is great that there are no cars, it kind of sucks that you can only bring out what you can carry on the ferry. And that is not much. Houses are sold as is with furniture. I can’t imagine inheriting a mattress, and I can’t imagine hiring a boat to deliver a new one either. Our friends renovated their house here and they had to hire a barge for the contractors to bring things back and forth.

My favorite snippet of conversation between two men passing each other on the boardwalk:

Man One: Hey! I’m having an underwear party tonight at 10!
Man Two: I’ll be there!

And at another point, I said “Hi beautiful!” to Avery, and a random man passing us said hi, like I was talking to him!

Speaking of Avery, she woke up last night at 3:00 am like it was the morning. She was laughing and cooing and smiling and kicking and ready to begin her day. All I could think was how awfully long the day would be if I started my day at 3:oo am. It took me an hour to get her to realize that it is time to sleep. These girls are four months. They still wake up once a night, sometimes twice. I am so ready for them to sleep through the night.

There is maybe an interesting development for me on the career front. It is way too soon to tell yet and a lot of things need to fall in place but there is a chance that I could become a college professor soon (well, one without a doctorate, that is, so technically an instructor. But professor sounds hotter). The classes I teach would be at night, which is very convenient. And I have all these dreams of getting a free doctorate to boot, wearing tweed, having office hours. Like I said, it is way too early to start jumping ahead. But I am excited. For the first time in a very long time, my career future doesn’t seem so far away (or bleak).


Pictured above are just a few of the 400 images I took this weekend! There are lots more HERE!

A Whole New World

This is what it is like to shop with twins.

For reasons I don’t understand I feel the need to shop like I am preparing for a nuclear holocaust. Why buy one can of beans when you can have 16? Why only 2 boxes of pasta when you can have 25? A gallon of ketchup. Six pounds of frozen vegetables. We frequently buy in bulk at the friendly not-in-our-neighborhood wholesale store. And today I went shopping with the girls in said bulk store as part of a Shopping Expedition. By myself, as in alone.

This, of course, requires detailed planning. Getting the girls ready to get out of the house to walk to the garage alone is an effort that is exhausting. Loading the girls into the car while there is another car behind you at the garage waiting for you to finish is nerve-wracking. Not five minutes in the car and I had to pull over, climb into the back, squeeze myself between the two car seats and feed the babies, who wouldn’t stop crying. Yes, I tried to feed them before we left but no, they weren’t interested. Mind you I feed them both at the same time while also talking on the phone. That’s talent.

These are the only babies in the History of Babies who don’t LOVE to ride in the car.

Once their six-ounce bellies were full, we continued our journey. We started at T*arget. So I unload the girls, bjorn one, stroll the other and run into a store that is the size of a city block to return some unneeded bottles and pick up some formula (story of my life). This goes better than planned. Avery was laughing at everything and Maddie slept like an angel. So naturally I get cocky. This isn’t so bad. In fact, this is easy.

I load the girls back in the car and drive to B*Js. This is when things start getting interesting. I bjorn Avery and carry Maddie in her car seat to a shopping cart. But once Maddie and her car seat are safely in the shopping cart, I realize there is no room for anything else. And since this is all bulk items (24 rolls of paper towels…124 rolls of toilet paper ….) I come to the horrifying realization that I will have to drag a second giant shopping cart, to fill with thousands of pounds of stuff, behind me. This makes getting through the aisles—even as large as they are—extremely difficult. I am a force to be reckoned with. A baby in a cart in front, me with a bjorned baby in the middle and a cart behind me, traveling at the speed of a snail to stock up on dishwashing liquid and chicken cutlets. Oh, and the wheels on both carts were not quite right.

Check out is laborious, but it’s the trek back to the car, with the loaded shopping cart and the Maddie cart, that is borderline dangerous. It’s hard to steer using only one hand! My wrist muscles are getting much stronger. I unloaded all of the bulk items and then the girls and I went to the regular grocery store to stock up on regular-sized items. The groceries are SO much cheaper than at our local store. Like 50 percent cheaper. My ice cream, which I eat every night, is two dollars cheaper. I walked out with three bags of groceries for $40.

So back to the car, load the groceries and girls back in and we head home. A half hour later I am in front of my apartment building wondering how I am going to do this. How am I going to get all the groceries and the bulk items and the babies home? Luckily the doorman and the porter ran out and helped. They unload all of my goods onto a cart and kept them in the lobby while the girls and I drove to the garage and walked home.

The girls will be four months on Friday. Four months they have been here in our home. Cliché as it is, time really is flying. Last year one this date was Day 9 of the IVF cycle that produced these babies. We are rapidly approaching Conception Day, which is two days after Nicole’s birthday.

Pictured above is Maddie looking at Avery…and Avery looking so weary. And below that are the girls in Halloween hats. Who can resist such cute hats? Only $1 at T*arget!

Morbidly Speaking

Tomorrow we visit out attorneys to have our wills drawn up. (What does this mean anyway, drawn up?) We have selected guardians for the girls and picked executors and decided where our ashes will be spread someday. That was depressing.

The attorneys said that we shouldn’t make wills very personal. It should all be straightforward. Money and assets. This makes me sad because I kind of envisioned wills like yearbook bequeathals. Something like this: “And to Jenni in Jersey I leave my Pyrex collection and a stick of butter to grease herself out of the booth. Ten Jen Ten. I’m turning into the letter C! Never forget BBQ 2007! Twinz Rule!” In other words, an arcane and annoying-to-read private joke filled with references only understand by two.

And I also envisioned the reading of my will. A bunch of people sitting in the attorney’s office. They all listen patiently and quietly, dabbing the corners of their eyes with cloth handkerchiefs, blinking back tears by looking to the sky, while the executor of my will reads out who gets my pictures and my dishes and my books etc. Inevitably, someone will raise a fist to the air in a Why-God-Why? moment and let out a wail.

Apparently this only happens in movies, though I like my version better.

We may not be getting personal in the will but we did get all technical about our ashes, creating quite a little journey for the girls some day! Ugh, morbid again.

Back to the present: One of the pluses of staying at home with children is having the ability to catch each and every milestone. Ostensibly I will be here when the babies take their first tentative steps, when they utter their first slurry two-letter words and when they discover they can fling applesauce across the room. So what happens today? Nicole comes home from work, changes her clothes and then settles on the floor next to Maddie, who is having the time of her life on her play mat. Maddie sees Nicole, smiles and three seconds later, Maddie rolls over. It was as if she was saying “Ta Da! Look what I can do, Mommy! And I saved it just for you!” This is also the child whose first smile was at the ceiling fan. Is this a sign of things to come?

I realize my role as parent is to impart wisdom/teach lessons to the girls. But they are already teaching me a thing or two. I have to say I am really learning to live more in the moment, because you never know when your next moment is going to come when there are two babies running around (in a sense). This is hard for me though. I am such a pleasure delayer and always have been. For example, why eat a bag of Gummi Bears when you can wait to eat said Gummi Bears and look forward to eating said Gummi Bears for a long time? I am also a pleasure combiner. Why just eat Gummi Bears? Why not eat Gummi Bears while watching an episode of 24 and flipping through a magazine? I like to put off things that I look forward to AND combine them with other pleasurable things. If you know this about me you will really understand what makes me tick.

But now, there is no way to plan for pleasure. I feel like it is my right to eat one ice cream bar a night. And I do, one a night since the girls were born. I look forward to it and enjoy it the most after the girls are in bed and I am sitting on the couch in my pajamas and glasses watching some ridiculous show. But most nights this is not possible. Now I eat that ice cream whenever I can. Without the TV on. And not sitting on the couch. This may seem petty but it is huge for me. Letting go of plans, relinquishing power and letting the chips fall where they may. It’s a whole new me.

It’s the same thing with reading. I used to have to have everything just so to enjoy reading a book. Now I read a page here and a page there. I’ll hold a book in one hand and read two pages while rocking the stroller with the other hand. I read while blow drying my hair. While the girls nap on my shoulder. Whenever and wherever I can. Last night in the wee small hours of the morning I finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns. What a great book. I thought it was weird that I read the part of the book that takes place on 9/11 on 9/11. Another morbid thought.

Anyone have any good book recommendations? I already read Water for Elephants, Memory Keeper's Daughter and Glass Castle, which seem to be the books making the rounds on book lists these days. On my night stand I have Away (Bloom), Still Summer (Mitchard) and The Tenderness of Wolves (Penney). On my to-buy list is Stephen Pinker’s new book on how language is a window into human nature. What else should I read? You know, in ALL my free time? (I like to have stacks ready to read). Middlesex? Is that any good? The Road, by Cormac McCarthy?

Pictured above is Maddie, showing Nicole privately what she can do. Pictured below that are Maddie and Avery. Notice Maddie is already torturing her sister by putting her finger in her ear.

Paripatetically Speaking

Another reason why I love my new gym: There are clean, fresh-smelling towels rolled into cylinders and piled in pyramids all around the gym floor and locker room. I’m a sucker for presentation.

Last night Nicole and I stayed up to the wee hours of after 9:00 pm to watch the much ballyhooed Britney Spears comeback performance. It was really really….lackluster…. but I thought she looked great, especially for someone who just had two babies in rapid succession. Imagine my surprise this morning when I watched various news programs and every single one of them panned her body and talked about how awful she looked. Were we watching the same performance? It’s bad enough that news programs are devoting time to the Video Music Awards train wrecks, but to use those minutes to pick apart a body? It is ridiculous. Down the road we will wonder why today’s little girls are going to grow up with eating disorders and body image issues. She looked great and looked much better than the many of the stick-thin lollypop-head half-starved women currently in the news, on TV and in the movies.

I know I go to the gym, but for me it is more about endorphins and relieving stress and getting energy to spend a 12-hour day with two babies that need constant attention. It really has nothing to do with fitting into clothes or how I look. Taking care of these girls is exhausting. On mornings that I don’t get to the gum, I find that my day is harder and I’m much more lethargic. So I try to squeeze in a work out. Any little bit helps.

Last night the girls went to bed at an unprecedented 7:00 p.m. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Just when I thought we were in the clear, both began to fuss about an hour later. We managed to soothe them back to sleep. Miracle. It was payback this morning when Avery woke up at 4:45 a.m., wide-eyed and hungry and happy. I fed her and tried to get her to go back to bed, but she was cooing and smiling and generally in no mood to sleep. It was very cute. But it is going to be a long day, since Nicole is at work all day and then has a board meeting at night.

I planned to walk down to Union Square with the girls but the humid air has me reconsidering. Getting around with them is difficult alone. I would take the subway but not all stations have elevators to get me to the train platform. How do people with wheelchairs and canes and walkers get around? It amazes me that this city isn’t handicap accessible. How do subway stations get away with that?

So I end up walking a lot. Last week I walked to my friend’s apartment on the east side. It is about a mile and a half each way. It’s kinda a haul with a baby strapped to you and one in the stroller but I would walk for days and days if the girls liked it unequivocally. Inevitably one baby starts to fuss and it becomes very complex. With a baby bjorned on me I can’t really pick up a fussy stroller passenger. And if the bjorned baby is upset, it is hard to stop and tend to her without causing the baby in the stroller to freak out. With my girls, strollers must NEVER stop moving, even in elevators. Even slowing down could cause a little whimper that will crescendo to a full-on whine should velocity continue to drop. They are picky, these babies.

This was one of those weekends when I don't heart New York. Maybe it was because we spent Saturday at my friend Jen's beautiful house for a BBQ, where there is lots of fresh air and green grass and tall tall trees and bedrooms with walk-in closets bigger than our babies' bedroom. I want space and nature and room to roam and a driveway. I want to walk outside at night and see stars. A washer and dryer in my own home! We know we will move before the girls start kindergarten, and we are not sure where, but we are trying to hold out as long as possible in the city. Nicole's commute is an easy 20-minute walk; if we move out of the city Nicole will be spending much more time commuting, which means much less time with us. If she gets home at 7:00 at night, she will have mere moments before the girls would (idealistically) go to bed. There are plusses and minuses to leaving and staying. All I know is we are staying put right now and spending our weekends getting away from the city as much as possible.

Pictured above are us and them at the my friend Jen’s weekend BBQ. Below is Auntie Annie with a sleeping Avery at said BBQ. The great outdoors and fresh air are good for the girls, and me.

Fall! Fall! Fall!

I, for one, am thrilled to bits that summer is over. I have never been a fan of hot, humid, sticky weather. Fall is my favorite season (leaf peeping, apples, crisp fall night air, apple cider, cozy sweaters, impending holiday season…) so Labor day, celebrated (or lamented) as the unofficial end of summer for most, is the unofficial start (celebration) of fall for me.

Exactly a year ago on this day I have marked on my iCal that I had a therapy appointment at 2:00 and I had to take the BC pill. What a time warp. I was in the middle of the IVF cycle that would result in the little monsters babies who are both sleeping peacefully right now, thankfully. Thankfully that they are sleeping and that they are here. I still look at them and think what little miracles they are.

Anyone catch Bill Clinton’s interview on the Today Show? Wow, he really fumbled the Larry Craig question. I’m sure he wanted to steer clear of any talk of sexual impropriety in politics. And then Gov. McGreevey’s ex wife is on the show to comment on this scandal? Do we have so little to talk about in current events that the pithy thoughts of a politician’s ex is relevant?? Too much pith for my morning. And, as far I know, this Senator Craig did not come out of the closet as a Gay American (yet), like McGreevey.

In my own current events, I finally quit my gym and joined a better one. My old gym, named after a precious metal that is both beaten into baubles and held on deposit in the U.S. Federal Reserve Bank, is filled with lots of grunting men built like superheroes who walk around drinking water out of gallon jugs, as well as dirty, broken equipment and televisions constantly set to ESPN and infomercials. You can wring the sweat out f the little mats. It has this dank smell, half basement and half sweaty men, with a touch of steroids. I stuck it out for four years because it is a three-minute walk from my apartment and it opens at 5:00 a.m. I am one of those freaks that goes that early and we all know that gym attendance is based on location, location, location.

I wanted to join the gym named after the event when the sun is directly above the earth's equator, but they don’t open as early. Plus, it is a (gasp) ten-minute walk from home. The ubiquitous NYSC also opens later than I like, and I don’t like the ones in my neighborhood. So I joined this gym and I love it. It is such a nice, airy space and the equipment is all new and the locker room is amazing. And it is a six-minute walk from home! It is so nice to be back at a gym that I can enjoy being in.

Pictured above is maddie in her first bathing suit. We were poolside over the weekend, but she did not swim. I’m not even sure if they are allowed in chlorinated pools yet. But she (and Avery) looked very cute in their suits.

Reasons Why I Am A Bad Mother

I hope the fall TV season starts soon. Nothing makes you feel quite so loser-ly as settling on the couch, pressing play on the Tivo and hearing “Previously on Fat March…”.

We came home from vacation to a completely defrosted refrigerator and freezer. Not good. I think I didn’t close the door all the way when we left for vacation. Everything was ruined. All sorts of salad dressings and frozen homemade pasta sauces and chicken broth and cheeses and ice cream and juices and my beloved Dr. Pepper, once cool and delicious, now thawed and warm. But all that was nothing compared to the devastation of losing all of the frozen breast milk in the freezer. My precious Maddie milk, that I was parsing out to her just a little a day in order to s-t-r-e-t-c-h it out, so I could say she was breastfeed for (x) months.

Replenishing that is going to be a problem. For reasons I don’t understand, my right breast has closed up shop. No more milk on that side at all. My oversized bigger-than-the-other-side breast is the only source of nourishment. I breastfeed Avery and pump in between for Maddie. But my milk may be drying up on that side too, since Avery seems increasingly hungry after BFing and pumping usually yields low amounts. I know I can’t really blame myself. And even if it was my fault, I have the ultimate trump card of “I am taking care of two newborns.” But still it makes me feel like a bad mother.

Other reasons why Child Services might show up:

• I am remiss in instituting tummy time. Flipping the girls over onto their oversized bellys and watching them struggle to arrange the arms and get off of their stuffed stomachs is just so is difficult to watch. They look so uncomfortable. And when I look into their eyes before they smash their noses into the floor again I can almost see them pleading with me to stop the madness. My justification for this is that they both have very good muscle tone and they have been supporting their own heads since almost birth. Besides, Maddie rolls to her side all the time, usually to gaze lovingly at her (other) mother or to get away from her sister. And Avery’s fat rolls keep her head nice and erect.

• Maddie will grow up thinking her name is “When did she nap?” and Avery will think that her name is “When did she eat last?” These are the phrases we toss around most frequently in regards to these two babies. Maddie might also respond to Maddiegator, Maddie-kins, Madd-a-licious and The Madness of King George. Avery might respond to Aviator, Aves, Ave, Avy-kins, Little Friend, Mini Friend and Chunk-a-licious. But Madeline and Avery? Blank stares.

• I let them watch TV. Something about the bright lights and moving pictures calms and mesmerizes them. Avery actually cooed and laughed while watching a fashion show on the Today Show. They both get fidgety if we pause a show for even a moment. I started this practice at 12 weeks 10 weeks 8 weeks 4 weeks old. Yes, at a mere month of age, I discovered that television will be an active parent part of our children’s lives. I like to say that they are watching Meet the Press and PBS and C-Span, but that would be a lie. Big Brother, My Life on the D List, Top Chef and the aforementioned Fat March are on the Tivo list. Like I said, it is summer and the pickins’ are slim.

• Maddie already has diaper rash and Avery has super-dry alligator skin. And both girls get dust bunnies between their fingers. Dust bunnies IN my children. I have to be responsible for these things to a point.

I could go on, but my ego can’t take it.

I finished Harry Potter. I was not as pleased as others seem to be. But that is a whole nother post.

An empty refrigerator is an interesting thing. Almost a metaphor. Like a clean slate. Yes, I was the one to leave the door open. But the fridge should have sensed my flaws and compensated by NOT defrosting everything. Obviously this picture was taken during happier times, before the fridge chewed up and spit out our hunted-and-gathered foods. Below is a self portrait from vacation. How pretentious does that sound? Self portrait. Ha!

The Story That Must Be Told

Nicole doesn’t want me to tell this story, but I have to.

We are enjoying our final evening of our too-short vacation. Our hotel room has a huge tub in it, big enough for three adults or two adults and two mini people or four or five mini people. The girls love being in tubs (by “love” I mean they don’t scream their heads off) so taking a bath together seems like a nice way to end our trip. Normally I bathe the girls (one at a time) by myself in our only-good-for-one-adult tub, because those baby tubs are too annoying. It’s nice to have some adult company for a change.

We fill up the tub, put in baby-friendly bubbles and carefully climb in. We are each holding a baby and enjoying the cleansing, scream-free moments when little bubbles rise to the surface. Ha Ha, I say, Miss Avery farted. It’s cute, in the water and all, with the bubbles, and that look of complete blankness on her mini face. But then rising to the surface are some decidedly not bubble-like things. She didn’t fart. She pooped. And baby poop is not a solid thing. Almost instantly little brown flakey flecks spread throughout the water. Contamination in mere moments. Avery has no idea what happened and looks happy as a clam and perhaps a bit relieved. We were out of the tub in a flash, running around naked with two screaming babies who wanted to know why they were wrenched so cruelly from the womb-like tub.

I don’t want to go home tomorrow.

I am on the last chapter of Harry Potter. I can’t wait to see how this mess ends.

Pictured above are some vacation images: On top are the four of us at the wedding. I like this picture because I love the way Nicole is holding Avery. We are standing on a hill, and Nicole is standing into the incline, but it looks like she is offering up Avery, like a cut of meat. And if she spoke Nicole would have an accent and say something like “Itsa veddy nice cut.” That’s what I hear in my head. The middle picture is a sour cream donut from Hole In One on Cape Cod. We also sampled the Boston Cream donuts, thinking that the closer we are to Boston, the better a Boston Cream donut must be. Turns out the donuts from a random Jersey City grocery store still win out as our favorite. I’m happy to spend my life having these BCD (Boston Cream Donut) smackdowns. On the bottom is a picture of Avery in the outfit that inspired the song “My Name is Avery and I Have a Belly That is Like an Old Man’s.” Another lyric is: “I stand real tall and I wear my pants hiked up to my chest.” It is sung in a low, low, low voice and it is sorta like the kind of song you would hear on a porch down south sung by some old men with homemade instruments. We make these songs up every day.

Lots more pictures are posted on my picture website.

Vacation!

Northampton! Cape Cod! Salvation!

We leave tomorrow for our vacation and I am so excited I can barely take it. I have been counting the days for weeks now. Today I am packing, which is a labor of love for me, so today is a good day too. Tomorrow I wake up, feed a baby, go to the gym, pack the car and we are off.

It will be interesting to vacation with the girls. I can’t wait to show them a world outside the city and the town that may become their future vacation-home location. I still can’t believe we will be in Northampton with our children. I remember looking at real estate up there one weekend when I was pregnant. We told the agent I was pregnant and it was all so exciting. We were driving around, going from house to house, and I was in so much pain. Every bump in the road ricocheted pain through my body. I hard a hard time getting up from a sitting position. I felt such physical pressure that I chalked up to pregnancy pain. That turned out to be the ectopic pregnancy. We have spent so many post-miscarriage weekends, waiting-for-the-beta-call weekends and TTC weekends in that town. We have celebrated there and mourned there. We have spent two new year’s there. It seemed like we would never be there with kids. And now we are setting off with our two daughters and I can’t wait. I’m just sad that they are too young to indulge in Herrell’s delicious Burnt Sugar and Butter ice cream!

I am getting my hair cut today, which is always a bit terrifying. I am hair-cut phobic. I’ve had a few bad hair cuts in my time, so I am cautious. I usually just take an inch off (straight line) and that’s it. I have to color my hair too because the gray is coming in like crazy, but that is next week’s appointment. I don’t have the patience to sit in a chair for that long at one time anymore. Today is just the cut. I wish I had the guts to do something dramatic. We’ll see.

I’ll be updating on the road on my picture website I am borrowing my SIL’s giant paparazzi-esque zoom lens, so I will hopefully have some great pictures. My camera bag is almost as big as the diaper bag.

Pictured above is the baby know as Captain von Snifflesworth, Captain von Wigglesworth, Smiley, Scoochi, Aviator, Aves and Avery.

Never Say Never

Someone, and I am not naming names, (Madeline) decided that nighttime isn’t for sleeping for the second night in a row. I don’t know if this is because Nicole was away (loss of her sleeping buddy) or if because she has taken to taking a late nap around 6 at night (too much of a good thing) or if because she just feels like hanging out at the wee hours in the morning (early signs of a party-girl). She is a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a riddle. Or is it a riddle in a mystery in an enigma??

On a positive note, this two-night disruption has given me perspective. Turns out they have been sleeping pretty okay, with only two wakings a night, usually around midnight and then again at 4. And this had made me a happier and better-rested person. So our sleep (read: mood) is getting better as theirs improves. But now, for the second day in a row, I am exhausted. I was up so much last night that I am not sure what my longest stretch of sleep was. It is going to be a very subdued day for me. Maybe it is good it is raining. I have an excuse to do nothing so I can hopefully recharge.

This whole mothering thing is getting better, but in such tiny increments. Sometimes I feel like I am robbed of the special moments of newborn-ness and infancy and that precious bonding time because I am too busy just trying to keep my head above water. I sound like a broken record, but this is hard. Hard hard hard.

I feel like I am constantly letting the babies down, literally and figuratively. One cries. I pick her up and settle her down. She is calm and the other one cries. I put down the first baby, pick up the second, calm her down and the other starts the cycle again. If I can’t break this cycle I am in for a rough couple of hours. Maybe I need to toughen up, but I hate to hear them cry. A little whining is ok, but once their faces start changing color, I think enough is enough.

I am still trying to figure out balance. How I am supposed to take care of both of them and take care of our home and take care of myself. It still takes me days to respond to emails or messages. And I am still writing thank yous. And I never sent out birth announcements. My list of Things To Do gets longer by the day. I used to be so efficient and organized and orderly. It will be a long run back to that.

And the babies first smile was to the ceiling fan. Both of them. That’s gratitude.

I really am anxious about what happens when these girls grow up and digest the fact that they aren’t like most other families. There aren’t enough “alternative” families in our immediate circle (in other words, that we hang out with on a regular basis). I worry how this will affect them. Where will they see there own family paradigm reflected back at them?

When we were TTC I was obsessed with the Rosie O’Donnell gay family cruise. I couldn’t wait till we had our own children that we could take on a trip, an entire boat filled with families like our child’s (or, in this case, children). Each failed cycle became “Great. Guess we won’t be taking a cruise this spring/summer” (said in a very sarcastic tone). I think it was my way of dealing with disappointment by transferring said disappointment to something less tragic than a failed cycle. A missed vacation is awful but yet another failed cycle was catastrophic. I deal with awful better.

Now that we have children I feel like we can go, like we deserve this trip. Next summer there is a cruise to new England and Canada that I really want to go on. The boat leaves from down the street from us, literally. We could walk to the boat if it weren’t for 1,000 pounds of luggage. However, it strikes me that they girls won’t really be able to process this alternative-family-palooza at the ripe age of one. Is this trip for me or them? I went on one cruise with a friend 5 years ago and it was not my most favorite type of vacation. In other words: I am not a large cruise ship kinda girl. Nicole isn’t really either. But we think being surrounded by all these families might make it bearable if not fantastic. How great it would be to spend an entire week feeling like you are not being judged. Has anyone out there ever been on one of these cruises? Are they spectacular? Or over-hyped?

Will global warming affect this year’s crop of Macintosh apples? I am so tired of slumming it with Braeburns.

When I found out it was twins and then that it was twin girls, I said I would not dress them alike and I would not dress them in pink. Flash forward almost three months after birth and these I actively seek out matching outfits and they wear pink an awful lot. Pictured above are Mad and Avery in cute little whales dresses given to them by their Aunt Jenni.

Countdown three sleeps till our Cape Cod getaway!!

Nice Day, Huh?

This morning at the gym, REM’s “It’s The End of the World As We Know It” came on my iPod just as a montage of Bush came on cnn. Coincidence?

Yesterday I packed up the girls and headed to my brother and sister-in-law’s boat for the day. It was me and Mina and four kids. Slightly chaotic but it was so great to be outside, in the sun, relaxing on the water.

It brought back good memories of living on a boat, but it was so different. It’s amazing to think how much my life has changed since those days. Back then, on a day like yesterday, I’d be lying out in the sun in a bathing suit, with the stereo turned up louder than it should be, possibly enjoying a drink or twelve if it was after 12:00, flipping through magazines. Maybe taking cigarette breaks. Not a care in the world. Yesterday I was mainly in the shade, changing diapers and breastfeeding the hungry Avery. It’s funny to think that I used to occasionally lay out topless and now I am occasionally topless again on a boat, for very different reasons. I like it better the latter way .

I even got to take a 20 minute cat nap while the girls slept and Mina kept an eye on everything. I was sprawled out on the bow, laying on my stomach, lulled by the water lapping at the boat and the gentle rocking. My mini-nap was cut short when my hurricane of a nephew joined me. He was running around the bow, apparently fascinated by the sun, the water, the sound of his feet, me, the rail, other boats, the sun, the fishies, the clouds, the city skyline, his scooter. In other words, anything. And he had a comment about everything. I got him to calm down and lay next to me. For about three seconds he was silent, and then he turned to me and said “Nice day, huh?”

He is so cute.

The other day when he was here at our apartment he went crazy when he saw that we put a new carpet down in the entry way. He was so excited, as if he found a secret toy room or a stash of candy. Over the moon over a carpet. He was literally dancing with joy.

We had an amazing night a couple of days ago. Avery slept from 8:30 until 4:30! And Maddie went five hours before waking for more food. I hoped this meant we were turning the corner and had high hopes for last night. Alas, not as good as the night before. Avery went to bed at 8:30 and woke up at 12:30 and 4:30. Then she decided to start her day at 6:45. Maddie is Nicole’s charge so I am not sure of her waking times.

All in all it is MUCH better than before, without a doubt. I can handle waking up once in the middle of the night and once in the wee hours of the morning. What I do now is after Avery’s 4:30 feeding I change and go to the gym (it opens at 5:00). And that workout gives me the energy to get through the day. Well, that and the espresso I have started drinking every morning.

Next week we are going to Cape Cod for a mini vacation and I am so excited. I pack the car every day in my head (I love packing for road trips) and try to visualize happy, sleepy, like-being-in-the-car babies. We are going to a wedding there on Saturday, which means they will be wearing their adorable dresses. And I will have to get dressed up too. It will be a nice change from tank tops and flip-flops, my summer wardrobe. And maybe a chance for our first family portrait!

I am solo this week. And maybe next. There was an unexpected Nanny debacle of mini-epic proportions. Since Nanny Annie goes back to work (she’s a kindergarten teacher) Nanny Annie’s girlfriend Nancy (Nanny Nan) will be taking over. She is in grad school, but has no classes on Thursdays and Fridays, so she will be here those days. She is also a certified personal trainer, so I am excited! My shoulder is still bothering me (physical therapy student Nan) and I’ve already discussed the train wreck that is my stomach (personal trainer Nan). Nanny Nan will have a lot on her plate.

In the meantime, I am nervous. Nicole goes to Boston for work on Sunday morning and won’t be home till Monday night. I know 48 hours doesn’t seem like much, but it will be hard for me. Especially since the girls wake up at different times at night. I’m still not sure what I am going to do. Most people I know work, so getting a helper for the overnight is hard. And my sister-in-law and brother are taking a boat trip over the weekend, so they won’t be around. Has anyone stayed home alone with newborn-ish twins and survived?

Pictured above are Leif and Skye finishing with his Dora pole. They chummed with about eight hamburger rolls. Anything to keep the troops happy. Pictured below is Maddie getting a hug from her cousin and aunt. I think they both loved being on the boat. Maybe the motion reminds them of womb life?

Reading, Writing and Bad Articles

* See update at bottom!

Suddenly, Parents magazine has started to show up in our mailbox. It isn’t a very good magazine, though I can’t say I’ve been an avid reader over the years: I make this judgment based solely on the quick glimpses I’ve had of it in gynecologist waiting rooms. As a self-proclaimed magazine expert, I give myself this self-proclaimed right.

Anyway, I was flipping through the latest issue before I recycled it and an article caught my eye: “Eight Things No One Tells You.” This is right up my alley, so I start perusing it. That’s four minutes of my life that I will never get back. I have very little time to pursue reading activities and I shouldn’t have wasted precious minutes on this triteness. It is positively scary how really extreme things were discussed in such a lighthearted way. The subheadings in the piece announce things like “You’ll Feel Helpless” and “There’s No Privacy” and “You’ll Have No Control” and “There Is No Learning Curve.” Great. Sign me up.

If a hobby engendered such reactions, you most likely wouldn’t do it, right? If you were reading an article called “Eight Things No One Tells You About SCUBA Diving,” what would you think if you saw subheadings like “Your Lungs Might Collapse Under Water” or “You Could Be Attacked By A Man-Eating Shark” or “Danger Lurks in Unlikely Places.” Seriously.

I have to give the magazine credit for addressing such an important topic in a sea of fluff pieces, but I just wish it was handled in a more hard-hitting and serious way. Don’t try to make it cute, because things like feeling helpless isn’t cute. Not having control isn’t just a downer, it is downright horrifying. Also, I can’t shake the notion that the subtext of the article is, “Silly little lady. Being a parent is hard.” [Say that in a mocking, exaggerated, fake-whiney sorta tone.] If you feel like you are losing control, the article says, then you can remember that this is a good time to practice counting to 10. Are you kidding me? That doesn’t even work with a four-year-old.

I have started to read the Adrienne Rich book, which showed up yesterday, and it is fantastic. Amazing. Eye-opening. I read the first three pages and I am stunned at how elegant and eloquent her writing is, and how honest she is. To wit: “My children cause me the most exquisite suffering….It is the suffering of ambivalence: The murderous alternation between bitter resentment and raw-edged nerves and blissful gratification and tenderness. Sometimes I seem to myself…..a monster of selfishness and intolerance.” This quote is an excerpt from her journal. Her journal, a place where you jot down thoughts and write about your feeling. A place where you write extemporaneously. My journal entries would sound like “Today I was mad. SO very mad! Arrgghh.” She manages to sound like Shakespeare as she sorts her feelings out. I can’t wait to read more of this book. And I still have to finish Harry Potter. I love having a stack of books that I can’t wait to read.

Oh, the new store on the corner is a T M*bile store. Yawn. That does NOTHING for me at all.

Pictured above is Miss Maddie holding onto Nicole’s fingers. This is Maddie’s little way of ensuring that she isn’t put down to sleep by herself. Put her down and remove her fingers and she wakes up. Screaming. Pacifier be damned. I have to try that someday.

*I posted another belly shot in my last post, which shows it at its most horrifying angle. The front-on shots just don't do it justice. It looked almost flat-ish in those shots and it is so not like that!

Who Says We Can’t Have Meaningful Conversations?

There has been an empty storefront a block away from us for a couple of years. Recently there has been some activity inside and so we have been wondering what is going into that space. I hope, as always, for a book store, because 5 blocks to Borders is just w-a-y too far for me to walk. [I’m kidding…but I would still like another bookstore!] Today, on the way home from a software-buying outing I noticed an awning was up revealing what was going to open up in that space. I went home and was excited to tell Nicole that the mystery was solved:

Me: Guess what they are putting in on the corner?
Nicole: I have no idea.
Me: Guess:
Nicole: A Houlihan’s.
Me: No. Guess again!
Nicole: A vitamin store. [Notice please that there is no question mark, as she says these things with no up inflection. I might describe her tone as weary.]
Me: Nope. Try again!
Nicole: I’m not going to guess again. I guessed twice already and now I’m done.
Me: I’m not going to tell you then.
Nicole: Well, I guess the game is over.

Another conversation:

Me: Who is that cartoon character? He talks in a high monotone voice and sounds a little like this. [I demonstrate]
Nicole: I don't know, but I will think about it.
Me: No you won't. You won’t think about it.
Nicole: You’re right. I won’t think about it at all. [laughs manically.]

Other topics of conversation included:

• What Should We Order In For Dinner?
• Why Is The Baby Screaming?
• Should We Take A Walk Outside With the Babies or Just Put On Our Pajamas?
• Why the Nachos We Ordered with Dinner are Bad.
• When Did the Babies Eat Last?
• Why oh Why is the Baby Screaming?

I guess we need to work harder at having meaningful conversations!

Pictured above, as promised, my stomach. The first picture is before. And by “before” I mean before all those IVF and IUI drugs. The middle picture is during. The bottom picture is after. The shadows on my sides of my stomach make it seem like there is definition there. There is not. Those “shadows” are actually contour lines. My stomach juts out from those two parts on the side, giving me the appearance of still being pregnant from the side. It is lumpy and bumpy, not soft and squishy like normal fat. Those purple lines are stretch marks that I got in the last week of pregnancy. I was fine until that last week. My belly button looks stretched out like an old turtleneck. My hips are wider and my waist is much meatier. I have to have Nicole take a profile shot so you can get the full effect. Also, when I sit don, my stomach folds into several neat little bumps.

Don’t get me wrong: I am not complaining about my stretched-out skin and war-torn body. For the first time in my life I am actually ironically more comfortable with my body, flaws and flab and all. It is what it is, and it did an amazing thing. But there still is that side of me, with all the body image problems and borderline food issues problems. After all, I went on my first diet when I was in 3rd grade. I used to go to the gym twice a day and I would practically starve myself on a low-calorie diet and weigh myself 10 times a day. I am trying really hard to avoid such manias.

I still care but that doesn’t stop me from eating an entire box of Wheat Thins today. Or a bag of pretzels. And ice cream. There needs to be a balance but not today.

* Update: The bottom picture is a better shot of what my stomach looks like. The front-on shot didn't do it justice! In this picture, I look like I am still pregnant. And we all know that is categorically impossible!

Prepare To Qualify

Prepare To Qualify

This was our exchange during a let’s-calm-the-babies walk to get ice cream (our dinner) the other night:

Nicole: I have some bad news.
Me: Okay... [fear and blood pressure rising….]
Nicole: I have to go to Boston next Sunday [for work] and I have to spend the night.
Me: [panicking inside; trying to think positive, calculating exactly how many hours she will be gone, including transportation to and from the airport] That’s ok. That will be fine. We’ll be okay for a couple days. It’s not like you are going to San Francisco for a week or something.
Nicole: Well, I have to go to San Francisco for a week in September.

We discussed for a few minutes the concept of me and the girls going to San Francisco too, and Nicole was very indulgent in that fantasy. But we quickly determined that that would be unrealistic: baby jet lag; walking up those hills with a Bjorned baby and a stroller; and I would be alone all day while Nicole worked east coast hours on the west coast.

On the plus side, sourdough bread; family all together; a swanky hotel, in which I would most likely spend lots of time with napping babies. And maybe a trip to Muir Woods to visit the redwood trees.

Neagtive side: Cross-country trip with four-month-olds.

It’s not going to happen. As much as I want it to, it is just too soon.

The Adrienne Rich book is called Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution. It might be a bit too extreme for my tastes, but I read a provocative quote from it and I must admit I am intrigued with Rich’s rather controversial take on motherhood as being both a blessing and burden. And I read a part that talked about how hard/overwhelming it can be. I like books these days that forces readers to take off the rose-colored glasses and look at everything for what it really is.

Today, the girls were little angels/ Nanny Annie and I visited my friend Jen (the one with twins) at her beautiful home (Trees! Nature! Grass! Bugs! Butterflies! Driveway!). We ate BBQ’d chicken and corn on the cob while sitting in the backyard where you can hear the breeze through the trees. The babies slept and ate and smiled and coo’d and generally just did a great job being cute. I had a sneak peek at what life with twins will be like when they are older and it is good! They really are each other’s playmates! Jen’s kids played on the swingset and played inside the house and on the patio and in the pool. They were so cute with one another.

Cuteness continued way into the evening. But Avery and I had a brief upset at the grocery store. I took Avery to buy a few things and she started to cry as I waited on line. Not a whiney little blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cry, but a full on red-faced scream cry. I had no idea what to do. I still feel like there is an voiceover announcer following me around saying “And today, the role of mother will be played by Jennifer.” People we looking at me and I was looking right back at them, trying to convey “I have NO idea what is wrong with her ha ha ha” with my facial expression. Crying continued so I unstrapped her and picked her up. I bounced her and patted her back and wouldn’t you know it, she releases a giant burp and a lot of spit up, all over my shirt and her dress and the floor. I laughed nervously and made some comment about how silly I was not to bring a burp cloth, and proceeded to wipe Avery’s wet face and neck with the bottom of my tee shirt. Here’s hoping that no one behind me on line was from Child Protective Services.

This incident hits horror from several angles:

1. This is one of the first days this summer when I wore a “good” tee shirt. Meaning, one I did not want to ruin. It’s one of those $14.50 Gap ones. It’s soft, soft pink, like the inside of an aged clam shell. I only pull it out for special occasions or when I am wearing pants with pink in them. Best laid plans and all.
2. Lifting up the bottom of my shirt meant revealing part of my stomach. Some might say too much of my stomach. And I am not sure the general public is ready for that yet. Perhaps I will take a picture a do a little before-and-after here so you can see what I mean.
3. This is my local grocery store. I go here every day (sometimes twice a day). And I don’t want to look like an incompetent fool.
4. This little disturbance meant there was ample time for everyone on line to analyze my purchases: Dr. Pepper, pretzels and ice cream. Why couldn’t this happen on a healthy food run, when I am buying fruits and veggies? All I have to say is thank goodness I put back the enormous bag of Gummi Bears that I was going to buy.

Tales of life on a boat to come….

Pictured above are Avery and me on the hammock and Mad in her car seat. Both are wearing cute sailor dresses given to them by their Aunt Jenni, our host or the afternoon. I’m sad that they will grow out of these dresses!

Politics/Memories/Sleep/Eye Contact

Bush approves a bill allowing for even MORE Big Brotheresque eavesdropping. And he vetoes a bill that would provide health care coverage to three million children. Anyone else think there is something wrong with this country?

In other current even news of the weird, am I the only one who thinks that Murdoch buying the Wall Street Journal is a bit like Voldemort buying The Daily Prophet? (I have Harry Potter on the brain, as I am still trying to read the last book.) What is the city coming to?

I technically have nothing against Mr. Murdoch, because I had one encounter (sort of) with him that was pleasantly memorable. I used to live on a boat at a marina here in New York City. Murdoch married his latest wife on his boat, a huge over 100-foot beautiful sailboat that is strong enough to cross oceans. His boat remained dock across from mine for some time, blocking my view (bad thing) but also blocking some of the wakes that rocked my boat (good thing). On the night of his wedding there were so many glittery dressed-to-the-nines people on my dock, and then there was me, dressed in shorts and a bathing suit top, on my boat, drinking in the scene.

When the boat returned to the dock (after a firework show in the harbor that I could see) the dock boys were gone for the night so I ran down to catch the lines. Now this is quite an undertaking with these big boats: They have engines on the bow and stern to glide the boat to the dock but they still need to get a line on the bow and stern and a couple of spring lines in between or else they risk damaging the hull. The ropes for his boat are as thick as the diameter of my tight and attached to weighted balls to make the throwing easier. So I caught the lines and tied them off on the cleat and as a thank you Mr. Murdoch sent over a bottle of champagne. A very very expensive bottle of champagne, the kind billionaires buy. How cool is that? Still, I dislike his politics. And I still think it is weird that he is buying the Journal.

Right now both babies are sleeping and Nanny Annie is here so life is pretty good! We (Nicole and I, that is) had a couple of good nights in a row. I don’t want to jinx it so I am not going to talk about it yet. But it is getting a little better. Maddie still needs to sleep with Nicole. And Avery occasionally likes to get up hourly for breastsnacking. But I have more energy during the day. Or maybe that energy is coming from the gym. I have lost all perspective.

In an attempt to understand why the babies can be so (adorably) devilish, Nicole is tearing through different baby books. Almost every week she comes home with “I was talking to (insert random name here) and he said that (insert random book here) changed his life with his baby (or babies).” And so off I go to B&N to buy said book, which she reads, and then attempts to incorporate into our lives somehow. I think we are following too many systems to be effective. One system allotted time in the schedule of the day for me to wash and sterilize bottles. It also told me when I was “allowed” to talk to my babies and look in their eyes. I want them sleeping better and eating more less often, but not at the sacrifice of eye contact. Good grief.

Anyone ever read anything by Adrienne Rich? I just bought her book and can’t wait to read it, in my spare time. A feminist perspective on motherhood. One quote of hers I read was quite profound.

In cute news, the girls are now wearing pajamas. Yes, after 9 weeks on this earth they finally get taken out of their day onesies and put into nighttime sleepers. They look adorable in them, like Sweet Pea! They are also smiling more and cooing more. And I swear Avery laughed today when she got into BFing position. Just like her (other) mother, she suffers from food excitement!

The Way We Were (Are)

I was on the subway the other day with Avery or was it Madeline and slid into a seat next to a woman just as the train lurched ahead. By slid I mean I practically tumbled into a random woman’s lap. She was quite understanding and made the requisite baby comments. She told me about her one-year-old at home. And then she said “Isn’t it really hard? Being a parent?” Who says these sort of things? To strangers on a subway?

Regardless, she picked the wrong person to talk to if she was being rhetorical because 1.) I have no problem opening up to complete strangers and 2.) I can talk for long periods of time and 3.) I find this parenting thing, to quote her, really hard.

It is insane how intimate you can get between 14th Street and 50th Street. I was happy to have an ear willing to listen to me and she was happy to unpack her dark un-PC thoughts. I even thought about staying on the train past my stop so we could talk more. But I thought that might be too much of a good thing. So we wrapped it up, a little awkwardly since I had approximately 5 seconds before the subway doors closed shut again. We wished each other luck, and she went speeding off uptown in the dark tunnel with her dark thoughts and I climbed back into the sunlight of the street, a little brighter and a little less alone.

This isn’t parenting, not quite, what I am doing. This is schedule management and feeding management and sanitation disposal and more. When exactly will I feel like a mother? Who is my role model for that?

I was (mis)lead to believe that being a mother was some sort of innate skill set. I was born with mothering abilities. I would rise to the occasion without a single fumble or stumble. I can file that away under Bullshit and Other Lies, much like the old chestnut I Will Get Pregnant When I Want To. Creating these babies took a lot of time and money and energy, and maybe being a (good) mother will take a while too. I have no idea because it is hard to find people willing to talk too much about it.

It is 10:30 on Friday night and already my old life has faded from memory. I am sitting in a dark living room with fidgety Maddie, who, despite all efforts, refuses to sleep. She has been feed and burped and cuddled and walked and bounced and put down in a swing, a bouncy seat, a crib and a co-sleeper. She has had a diaper change and an emergency issuance of gripe water. She has spent time on her acid trip playmat (way too stimulating). She enjoyed a walk in the sultry (ha) Manhattan air. She has been held in no less than six different positions. And she still will not sleep.

If I turned the lights on I am sure I would see her with a smirk on her little face, mocking our efforts. Right now she is in the swing making her loud little breathing noises in such a way that I can tell without even looking at her that her eyes are wide open. I might be better equipped to deal with this except last night was awful… hourly wakings and a stretch from 2 am till 4 am when both babies were up and wired like they just had a six pack of Red Bu*ll. And I was on my own with them from 4 pm until almost 8, when Nicole got home, which to most people might seem like no big deal, but when you have two overtired, colicky babies who desperately need to sleep and need your constant attention, you want a freaking sticker, dammit. Wit these babies, day drifts into night drifts into middle of the night and repeat. It is as if there is no beginning and no end, just an endless loop. A loop, I might add, that I don’t feel particularly “good” at.

I haven’t had much practice.

Pictured above is m-m-m-memories, light the corner of my mind, misty water color memories.…..