Saturday, July 26, 2008

Worst. Sleep. Ever.

Sweet Potato: “Hey, Monkey Girl! Did you notice how smug mom and dad are getting about our sleeping? It’s like they just expect us to sleep from, say, 7:30 until 5:30am. I think it’s time to start training them to play with us in the middle of the night.”

Monkey Girl: *suck, suck, suck*


MG: Huh? Oh. What now, SP?

SP: Fine, you don’t have to help, but I’m waking mom and dad up Right. Now!


MG: You know they’re already onto thus crying/fussing thing. You need to throw something else into the mix.

SP: Good point. Did I tell you? I learned this new trick that really freaks them out. I flip onto my stomach in the crib so that I’m face down in the sheets. Mom always picks me up. It’s great fun. Watch!



(Mom enters. Freaks out as predicted, and flips sweet potato.)

SP: See! Now, watch, I’m going to do it again.

MG: I’m bored with this game. Good night.



Freak out.


Flash forward to 2:00am

SP: okay, I’ve tortured them enough. I’m going to sleep.

MG: Great! My turn!

Flash forward to 3:45am.

MG: okay, now I’m tired.


This reenactment has been brought to you by the Children Against Parental Sleep Council of America.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Ten Twin-Mom Commandments (as told by Sticky)

  1. If you spend money on something that buys you a week’s worth of sanity in the first few months, it was NOT a waste of money. I don’t care what anyone says.

  2. If at all possible, for the sake of sanity, have your partner get up for every feeding with you. There is nothing worse than juggling two crying babies at 3:30am…for the fourth time…when sleep deprived. (I still turn to hubby when Monkey Girl or Sweet Potato wakes up and say, “Monkey Girl is up. It’s your turn to get her.” He wondered once when it was my turn. I told him I’d happily get up and change her when I could come and pass him/her right off to him to feed for god-knows-how-long.)

  3. Sometimes babies cry. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. (I have to repeat this mantra in my head. Frequently. I'm hoping it'll stick.)

  4. When losing your mind during the evening fussy period…which can seem interminable around two and a half months when you hear the cries of your babies in stereo and fewer people are around to help than when they were first born, see #3 above.

  5. If you never fold or put away another article of clothing for as long as you live, it’ll be okay. Think of all the room you’ll save on dressers and hangers.

  6. When, at a time when you haven’t pieced together more than three hours of sleep at a time for god-only-knows-how-long, someone regales you with stories of how their babies slept through the night beginning at six weeks, you are totally within your rights to throttle them. A jury of twin moms will completely understand.

  7. Read as many books on parenting and sleep habits as you want, but don’t hesitate to use them as kindling when you can’t afford to heat the house anymore because you just HAD to buy that extra swing because it was the only contraption that kept your lovelies quiet for more than 60 seconds and you just. needed. two. (See also #1 above.)

  8. Don’t make yourself feel guilty if you gave more attention to one in any given day. Your love and attention will be equally showered on both in the long run.

  9. Redefine your expectations of what a productive day looks like. If you get a shower and a full meal in, well then you’re my hero.

  10. Don’t listen to people who tell you it won’t get better until the twins are two, or three, or in high school. First of all, who the hell does that help? And, second of all, as far as I can tell, it gets better everyday, with every smile and every belly laugh. I have no doubt it’ll never be easy, but, as they say, nothing worthwhile ever is.*
*I should preface #10, however, by saying that I live in fear of the day when they’re both super mobile and go in opposite directions at a million miles an hour wreaking havoc in every corner of the house. I caught a glimpse this weekend when Sweet Potato flipped over face-down in his swing (yes, while strapped in—I don’t get this at all!) at the same time that Monkey girl pulled a giant blanket off the couch on top of her. I didn’t know who to try to save first and I’m pretty sure the SIDS police was notified and I’m now on permanent watch.

Also, happy transfer day, stickies! It's been a year since you've been officially entrusted to my care. I hope I've done you proud. You've certainly exceeded all of my expectations since the start. :-)

Sunday, July 13, 2008

The beginning...

Hmmmm…what to post.

There’s a lot bubbing around in my head, but none of it makes its way coherently onto a page.

I’m back at work now, so that’s big. And exhausting. It’s funny, I always used to think I was tired after a week's work before. Man did I not know from tired. I also didn’t realize how much work I used to do from home. I have so many meetings and calls during the day that I would put in a few hours of actual work when I got home at night or on the weekends. Now that I am otherwise occupied with something far more fun and interesting for a good portion of the evening, and now that I’m tired as all get out and don’t want to look at work after the kids go to bed, I realize how reliant on that time I was because I am BEHIND!

But, all of that is really insignificant compared to the bigger picture. That is, one year ago today I got my fertilization report. 7-8 of 10 eggs fertilized. One of those seven is spitting up on hubby as we speak. The other is cracking herself up in her swing.


One thing that’s been occurring to me lately is that, while the stickies have been around for less than half of the time I was actually pregnant, the pregnancy itself seems like a blip. In retrospect, it seems like such an insignificant part of my life, though I know it wasn’t. I mean, for so long I thought of not much else. Then during the pregnancy, it seemed to drag on forever—like an endless waiting game. And now? Now I barely give it a fleeting thought. Ditto for the c-section and everything that went along with it. I remember that it did hurt, but I can’t remember the pain at all. And I can barely piece together what those four days in the hospital were like; it was such a blur.

But, here we are. And you know, it’s funny. I’ve been thinking about the fact that, when asked, most parents will cite the day their kids are born as the most important of their lives. If you asked me on that day, I’m sure I would have given you the same answer, but more because I intellectually understood the importance of the day rather than because I felt its weight. (On the contrary, I think all I could really feel was overwhelmed. And, frankly, confused. “Wait—these are OURS?”) Now I understand. The reason people say the day their kids are born was the best or most important of their lives is not necessarily because of that day itself. Rather, it’s because that’s the day that you can point to and say, "well, that’s when this all began."

For IVF patients, though, I wonder, is the day they’re born more momentous somehow than the day of your retrieval? Or the day you got the fertilization report? Or the transfer? Because today, on this one-year anniversary of the fertilization report, I find myself wondering, in retrospect, whether it wasn’t a year ago yesterday that was the most important of my life. Or a year ago Thursday when we said, somewhat flippantly, "okay, let's transfer two."

After all, wasn’t that truly the beginning?