Lupus? Depression? Hair loss? Have you tried Motrín?

One of the best jokes in My Big Fat Greek Wedding was the dad's insistance that Windex could fix or cure virtually anything. when i saw it, i thought to myself "cmon! NOBODY'S dad is really like that!"

and then I had Trixie and Dixie. and their dad because an ardent, faithful, and obediant servant to the gods of Motrin.

This past weekend, Trixie had a congested, runny nose. Early in the morning, she coughed once or twice as she was waking up. That led to this genius level conversation between me and her dad:

"do you have any Motrín?

"yes."

"we should give her some."

"why? Motrin is a fever reducer and pain reliever. she doesn't have a fever."

"because she has a runny nose."

"Motrin is a fever reducer and pain reliever."

"but she coughed. i think she would feel better if you gave her some Motrín."

"Motrin.is.a.fever.reducer.and.pain.reliever."

"oh. well, if you're not going to give her Motrín, can you go buy something to give her? something over the counter?"

*icy blank stare*

i don't know which part annoyed me the most, his desire to give her a drug that in no way, shape, or form could even possible address her symptoms OR his lack of knowledge of recommendations against giving OTC med to kids under six.

why do the mommies always have to be the ones staying on top of things???

Trix and Dix's dad was pretty unhappy when President Obama announced he'd be sending more troops to Afghanistan. Perhaps we could instead send the Taliban some Motrín.

I'm sure that would fix their terrorist ideology RIGHT UP, along with any sneezing, depression, or hair loss they may be experiencing.

awwwww, i heart-shaped-poop-stain you too!

as i find myself nearing closer and closer to Operation Big Girl: Battle of the Buns, i find myself filled with several different emotions. sadness, because my girls are growing up; giddyness, because soon i will be released from the tyranny of Luvs; excitement over helping them reach another milestone; and finally, fear.

pure, raw, uncut, almost crushing, fear.

an incident occured the other evening during bed time (which is now referred to as the nightly meeting of Fight Club) that both chilled my heart and made my soul trill sweetly with hope.

Trixie is a rambuncious sort. she has no fear of climbing and tries to scale most things, both animate and inanimate. she has even shimmied up my leg with the intention of having me hold her. during Fight Club, she gets out of her bed, takes her clothes off, steps out of her diaper like it's a pair of panties, and runs about starkers, taunting me. we go through several instances of me catching her, dressing her, and re-bedding her....only for it to happen all over again until she finally passes out.

but this weekend, something different happened.

this time when she took off the diaper it was full of poop. and instead of running around naked, she plopped down on the carpet in her room and started playing.

and that's when i discovered her, nude from the waist down, playing with her tea set. and i discovered a couple of heart shaped poop stains on my carpet.

i've long gotten over the mortification that comes with cleaning atrociously poopy diapers. so long as i keep the action in the diaper and not on my hands, i'm straight. but on more than one occasion over the last few weeks, i have come uncomfortablely close to Trixie's fecal matter. but on this particualr instance, i wasn't horrified or grossed out...too much.

i was excited! because don't they say another sign of potty training readiness is the child's dislike of soiled diapers next to her skin?

see, if you look at it that way, then this was Trixie's way of letting me know that she knew what i was thinking and that she knows just like i know that she is indeed ready to poop in the potty!

and to that show of confidence, i say to her:

Let's Do This, Tyler Durden.

lots of tears.

i've been overcome off and on all day with this sweeping rage and feelings of powerlessness. i have ranted, prayed for the painful death of the child's mother and the rat dog piece of shit that she gave Sheniya to, and cried so many tears out of deep sadness and grief. i have discovered, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that i there is a threshold that can be crossed within me that would allow me to easily and gladly take the life of another.

when i think about why Sheniya's story resonates with me so deeply, i realize there are things about her that trigger deep emotions within me. when i look at the pictures of her being carried by someone who meant her so much harm, i see Trixie's hair in the mornings when i wake her up. when i see her hand holding onto his shoulder, i see Dixie's hands as she hold her arms up for a hug when i pick her up from daycare in the evenings.

i see her without shoes and i'm enraged. 

when i see her profile, i see my own daughters. and i am reminded that there are broken subhuman pieces of shit out in this world who don't see my girls as wonderful amazing little girls, but as things to be abused, used, and destroyed.

i love my girls more than anything or anyone in this world, including myself. i would never put them in harms way, knowingly hand them over to someone who would harm them. it's impossible for me to fathom what type of woman would do such a thing.

we have got to do a better job of protecting our girls. we have got to start recognizing that being born female makes our daughters more likely to be attacked, abused, raped, and exploited.

and we've got to do something about it.

and for all those people who saw Precious and wrote it off as unrealistic, manipulative, poverty-porn:

is this real enough for you?

when it totally sounds like fun IN YOUR HEAD.

i got a totally unexpected invitation on monday evening from an old friend from KY via gchat:

"hey! can you come home this weekend? the art's league is having their costume party and it's gonna be great. if you can make it, everything will be paid for. my mom told me to let you know she'd love to babysit the girls for you!"

i can't go. there's no way i could go.

i would love to go, would have a blast, would see friends and family for the first time since 2007, but i can't go.

there are way too many ends which need tying, arrangements in need of making, and whatnot for me to just up and go. anywhere.

it's just as well. i probably wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much as i think i would. it's most likely one of those "sounded great in theory but sucked in reality situations" i try to avoid at all costs.

and yet, i totally wish i had the freedom to just throw together a bag, hit the gas station, and GO. because i really think it's gonna be fantastic and i'm gonna totally miss it!!!

Confessions of a Bad Mother: first comes the TV, then comes McDonalds....

i am a tv junkie. i love it. i have no problem spending time indoors watching a parade of stupid on tv until my eyes feel blurry by the end of the day. when i was in middle school and met a classmate who told me her family didn't own a tv, i felt sad for her. SHE WAS MISSING THE YOUNG ONES, FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!

i am alarmed to report that i seem to have spread my sickness on to my kids.

see, it all started innocently enough. their dad got them a tv with a dvd player, so they could watch Blue's Clues and Baby Einstein and whatnot. but....well, the dvds got old and their mom stayed cheap, so i came up with the fabulous idea of hooking their tv up to the cable. so they could watch Noggin and only Noggin.

so you know what happened next, right? Sing-alongs with Moose and Zee, dance-alongs with The Backyardigans, rescue-alongs with The Wonder Pets, jam-alongs with Yo Gabba Gabba....man, even the commercials are the bomb!

now don't get me wrong, they still like to read their books. as a matter of fact, brown bear is STILL on the Trixie and Dixie Times Bestsellers List.

it's just that now the first thing Dixie says to me in the morning when she wakes up is "Coos-COOS!" as she points to the tv.

then, she scratches her neck like a crackhead.

i'm not a dumb bunny. i know there's "research" out there proclaiming that tv exposure has been shown to "negatively impact" your child's "cognitive functioning."

yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, you ol' killjoy scientists. i have yet to see any signs of persistent and pernicious stupid coming from either of the chicks, so STFU with your boring lab coats.

but nonetheless, it's jarring to see your kids actually express a desire to watch tv. i wanted them to enjoy it, not exactly seek it out like they need it. but what did i think would happen?

however,  i am drawing the line at getting tvs and a dvd player for the car. i don't care how effortless they are claimed to make road trips!

anything you can do, i can do better!

i was thinking the other day, as i do often, about what my motherhood experience would be like if i could call my mom and get her opinion and guidance on some things. I told myself that my having daughters would most likely have brought us closer together, that we would bond even tighter over my experiencing some of the same things i'm sure she experienced with me when i was small.

and then i snapped out of it.

because the fact of the matter is, most Moms and GMoms don't meld into this invincible unit in which ideas are shared and built upon for the betterment of the child. No, a battle of wills usually occurs centered around who has the best idea, greatest tips, and most steady head, heart, hands, and temperament.

i like to think of this conversation, soon after finding out i was having twins, as a hint of what would have been:

Wilma: now....you're not going to hit them are you? you're not going to spank, right?

Boca: yes! often! daily! whenever the mood strikes, all pun intended!

Wilma: ohhhhhh, you can't do that!

[readers, have i ever told you about the *spanking* i once got that started in my bedroom and ended in the living room? because i was running? and she was chasing? did i?]

yeap, she was geared up and 'ret to let fly a stream of hypocrisy the likes of which i would have sworn up to that point was merely legendary. it was going to happen.

and in response to it, there would be much teeth gnashing, complaining, and silent eyerolling with an few "who's kids does she think these ARE anyway!"

that alllll being said, it would still totally rock to be able to talk to my mom about this experience and listen to her tell me for the 1 millionth time, squared, that if SHE could do it, i can DEFINITELY do it....even if she did do it better.

And that's why i don't go to Vegas.

Of all the crap i have to lug to The Thunderdome for Trixie and Dixie's 8 hours of battle, the items that annoy me the most have got to be the Change of Clothes. I hate packing these items because

1) i have to think out another whole outfit for each kid the day.

and

b) the clothes in the bag take away from other outfits i plan during the week.

but i usually* put myself through the pain in the ass process because the MOMENT i forget to put clothes in the bag, i'm reminded by the daycare staff.

but lately, i haven't been that, shall we say, vigillant about the clothing i've put in the bag, telling myself "self, if they actually end up NEEDING clothes during the day, it will surely only be a shirt or a pair of pants. not both. SURELY not both, self. so it don't matter if the tops and pants don't match. you'll be replacing pieces, not outfits!"

well, guess what the hell happened today?

yeap: they ended up needing both the shirts and the pants. and what sight does that mean i was greeted with when i showed up this evening to pick them up?

Let me paint the picture:

Light Blue long-sleeved shirts with pink horizontal stripes and a pink heart in the center, topping a brown pair of pants with pink, green and yellow stars.

as they say during New York fashion week: the outfits were an atomic hot mess.

and my kids were standing in a room, dressed like demented Peeps, amongst other children wearing Levis and Baby Phat ensembles. and i was convicted.

see, that's what i'm saying: i wagered and lost BIG TIME. and any thoughts i had of winning the lotto or hitting the jackpot on a slot machine flew out the window, along with my entire family's dignity.

well, i've learned my lesson and this Foe Pah must never be repeated. because you know what dressing your children like idiots leads to?

them one day dressing themselves like idiots. i won't have that on my conscience.

*yeah, sometimes i don't bother because i like to live on the edge. and i'm lazy.

Halloween Effin Sucks.

and here we are again.

i said to myself "self, this year will be different."

i said "self, you have one halloween under your belt already."

said "there's absolutely no reason for you to get as stressed out about costumes as you did last year."

"you had a tendency to blow things out of proportion. that was just another example."


and then i started looking around online for costumes. and i remembered why i was stressed out about something as stupid as Halloween.

Many of the costumes are cheap, ugly and uncomfortable looking.

A lot of the costumes, while not looking like anything special. will kick your wallet into the stratosphere. Until this moment, have you ever seen a $34.00 monkey? Know what i can get for a little over $34? TWO WINTER COATS!

the costumes are never EVER sold as complete as the picture illustrated. You might see a cute kid standing there in a red and black ladybug costume for $15.00. but what you're getting is a red and black sleeveless tunic and a headband. the t-shirt? those leggings? those shoes? you're on your own, kid.

pressure. your kids don't CARE that it's Halloween and they may or may not even register their costumes look any different than their spaghetti sauce covered play clothes. but everyone else knows. the daycare. your coworkers. your friends. your family. and if you skip out on a costume and subsequent photo opportunity, someone is calling CPS behind your back.

when you find the perfect costume at the perfect price, it's either sold out or not in your kid's size. yes, that's right: everyone has the same eye for perfect as you do. the only different is they have credit cards, iphones, and more time on their hands to make their dreams come true.

and so now, on October 5, i am again feeling the stress of finding the most adorable, mostly complete, totally affordable ladybug and bumblebee costumes this side of the grand canyon.

i fear my odds of success are just as high as being able to pick out a yellow flower growing along the basin of said canyon from a helicopter with the naked eye.

If you ain't got no money, keep yo' broke ass in daycare!

Chugging along towards the twins' second birthday, i have a nagging thought in the back of my head:

how am i supposed to make pre-school work for the girls and myself?

See, here's the thing: around 3 years of age, a lot of parents start thinking about placing their kids in pre-school to prepare them for kindergarten. However, pre-school does not keep your child for the same length of time as daycares do, and many of them don't keep your child 5 days a week.

Which means, if you work, you'll still have to find childcare arrangements for your child until you get off work.

Now, i don't know if you noticed, gentle reader, but it was a nightmare just trying to find a daycare that i could afford. Having completed that mission, i know how to set my sights on finding a pre-school i can afford with aftercare services i can also afford.

Which, in the long run, is going to end up costing me even more money.

That i don't have. And may not have when the time comes because....no one is going to get a raise at my job until fiscal year 10-11.

And we may not even get one then.

Here's the harsh reality of the situation: unfortunately something as important as access to education for your child is based on your financial ability. If you don't have it, then no, little Kimmy is not going to be able to take language classes or go to a award winning pre-school.

and if little Kimmy is poor, she's going to go to her crappy neighborhood school.

and if little Kimmy graduates from a crappy school, she may not do well on her SAT.

but if she does and gets into a school but can't get financial aid, she ain't going to college.

and then Kimmy is going to be working in Burger King, dating convicts, rapping her orders, and telling customers who want to change their orders "Gurrrl, i will CUT.YOU!"












Yeah, yeah, the girls are only 21 months old. I have plenty of time to sort all of this out. But the whole notion has me feeling a little panicky, knowing this new problem is right around the corner.


Kinda like Uncle Frank in the attic, except with eyelids. Being caught out there unprepared can make a person a little jittery....

In Memoriam

When we look back upon the ones who were lost on September 11, 2001, rarely does anyone talk about the children who perished. Children taking trips with parents. Children excitedly flying across the country to take part in a special reward for doing well in school. Sibling groups. 


Children as young as Trixie and Dixie. 


All of the children lost were on the planes. Some had their parents with there to comfort them. Some hopefully were comforted by others on their plane. Comtemplating the horror and devastation felt by those parents left behind is almost too much to bear. 

I want to list these names and not only mourn for the loss their families have suffered but also for the loss to our society. What kind of people would they be now? How would they be doing in school? What colleges would they be attending this fall?


What might these children have accomplished in their lives if given the chance? 

Christine Lee Hanson - Age 2


David Reed Gamboa Brandhorst - Age 3


Dana Falkenberg - Age 3


Juliana Valentine McCourt - Age 4


Zoe Falkenberg - Age 8


Bernard Curtis Brown II - Age 11


Asia S. Cottom - Age 11


Rodney Dickens - Age 11

I tried to tender my resignation.

i asked a friend this weekend "why do i feel so burned out by midday on the weekends?"

the answer to that question is "because you have twin toddlers."

after watching my girls zip from one corner and then zoom to the other, i am convinced that that inspiration for the Gremlins' Christmas Party had to have come from the energy and attention span of your average 20 month old.



and so, after many hours of chasing, saying no, and stop, and get down, and that's not a toy....and gritting my teeth as i watch a child purposefully suck milk into her mouth for the sole purpose of letting it dribble down her shirt and legs to the floor....by Sunday afternoon, i'd had enough. so, i decided to quit. i found a scratch of paper that used my be a piece of mail and hastily scribbled out my goodbyes.

"you people with the eyelashes: i quit this bitch!"

as my last act as their mother, i fixed trixie and dixie lunch. then i took a shower, got dressed, and left.

i took myself to lunch and at without anyone trying to snatch my food away from me.

and then i sat outside with a glass of wine. and i slouched. and i put my feet up.

and at no time did i have to tell anyone no, stop, get down, or that's not toy.

it was marvelous.

i sat there and i thought about how carefree my life used to be and how on the weekends, i could sleep as long as i wanted, go wherever i chose, and....waste an inordinate amount of time and money trying not to feel so lonely and sad .

and then, after a few hours, the warden called and informed me that i didn't actually quit: i was just on furlough. my services in the Prison Kitchen were needed.

something or another about "dinner."

i grudgingly went back home but after getting there and being greeted my hugs and kisses, i couldn't remember why i'd wanted to get away so badly.

and here i was just using some old Tupperware!

we humans are funny. and by "funny" i mean crazy as hell.

for instance: i love how we can't find a cure for AIDS or cancer, but can invent little decorative boxes to keep our children's body parts in!!

behold, the Umbilical Box

the company who has brought you this, also has boxes to store your kids' teeth and fingernails. and when they graduate from college and find a menial low-paying jobs, you can get them one to keep their hopes and dreams in.

i think those boxes come with tear stains on the top.

and in 13 years, they won't talk to me at all

Trixie and Dixie have certainly been talking their little pants off lately. which is both exhilarating and terrifying.

exhilarating because i get a kick out of Dixie's insistent "nyooo!" and out of Trixie's earnest "uh-owhhh." as well as they way they ask if it's time to "eat?" how the tell me their body parts "noh....eye....ear...har...." how they tell other kids at daycare stop, and sister, and no ma'am! and how when told to do something, they respond "i will!" with attitude.

and hilarious how, despite his best efforts to be called Papá, Trixie has christened her father "DADah!"

terrifying because....weren't they just babies? wasn't that them in their car seats sitting inside the shopping cart at Sam's on our Saturday morning shopping excursions?

wasn't that just me so excited that they could pull themselves up to a stand at the couch?

one of the hardest things for a modestly middle class family to do is pay daycare expenses for multiples. i have often asked god to please, speed up along to kindergarten for a break in expenses.

....i didn't mean it, god.

Summer Storms

yesterday evening, after getting everyone home from daycare a storm blew through. since this storm didn't have the added special effects of "thunder" and "lightening" (which then evokes "terror"and "screaming" and "running"), i decided to open the patio door so Trixie and Dixie could see "esta lloviendo! it's raining, chicks!"

Trixie and Dixie were pretty impressed! and when the good times were over and it was time to shut the door, I soon discovered that Dixie loved it a wee bit more than Trixie did and took it quite personally when i decided to close the door...

What happened next will go down in our family history as the night mommy needed a young priest, an old priest, a vial of holy water, and a flask of whiskey to overcome the terror from within. I have a picture of the incident, but until i have a chance to upload it, you'll have to make due with this illustration:




as i was shutting the door, Dixie started to protest.

as the door was being shut, she started jumping up and down.

by the time the door was shut completely, she clocked completely out. This included

- throwing herself down onto the floor
- turning read in the face
- biting her fingers on her hand in rage
- rolling across the floor to my legs
- pulling herself up by my pants legs
- trying to rip my pants off my body
- making a grab for my shirt, which i deflected
- throwing herself back into the floor and,
- while stiffening her body, howling in rage.

throughout the entire thing, Trixie kind of stood off to the side, eyes round in disbelief. Finally she and I sat on the couch and just watched the drama unfold. This was also my only way of making sure Trixie didn't somehow end up with her toupee torn off in the event Dixie decided to take her tantrum to Cage Match levels.

and this went on for 15 minutes until she was finally finished. after which, we went to the bathroom, put cool water on her face, and dried it with a towel.

and for the rest of the evening, she was my same old sweet toddler. by this time, the rains had stopped outside as well.

these sudden summer storms really do inspire "terror" and "running," don't they?

Confessions of a Bad Mother: Snacks? What Snacks?

i got another one of those fantastic weekly emails that notes how old your child is and what you should expect last night. this came from pampers.com, telling me (a few days early) that hoooooray my child is now 20 months.

and as i was scanning the email, making tiny check marks beside all of the things i do "right" and beside what the twins are doing on target, i got to this line:

At this age, meals are generally short affairs. Make the most of the time your toddler does spend eating by offering him calorie-dense foods six times a day (three meals, three hearty snacks).

uh, sorry? three hearty snacks? three? snacks? EVERYDAY???

this is the part where i pull out the cat-of-nine-tails and practice some public mortification of my flesh.....i don't really give my kids snacks.

yes, i said it.

i feed them like they are people. breakfast, lunch, dinner. milk, juice, water. maybe on occasionally a cracker or 2, give or take 20.

but that's it, people!

so after reading that email and having a panic attack (scurvy! they're going to get scurvy!!), i decided to change my evil ways and get them ladies some snacks! and i must say, the snacking has gone over like gangbusters. as a matter of fact, when i gave them bananas, Dixie actually said "ooooooooooooooooooooooh!" while making a grab for it.

i am amazed at the stuff that never occurs to me until im finding out i'm not doing it right. when is it going to get easier?

Party's Over.

one of the things that has consistently gone right with Trix and Dix has been my faithful and unwavering dedication to the 8:30 pm bedtime. granted, we had a slight hiccup with daylight saving time, but once they got over the whole problem with having to go to bed while it's still daytime, it was smooth sailing.

and then 19 months happened. actually, 19 months, week 4 happened. and my sweet children who had gone to bed at 8:30 last week are now chitty chattin, jibber jabberin, screaming, crying, and whining well past 10:00 pm now. In addition to this change in events, i also had the pleasure of wrangling them over the weekend without benefit of them taking a nap.

and did i mention that they seem to have gotten yet another burst of outrageous energy and stamina? they're like Tasmanian Devils on meth!

and did i tell you that Dixie seems to have been possessed by a bipolar demon? She can go from shits and giggles to punches and scratches in nanoseconds!

Babycenter has been sending me weekly emails trying to warn me these changes were coming. i glanced over the article titles, but i didn't really read them. because underneath it all, i said to myself "yeah, but not my little chicklets."

welp, it's my little chicklets.

a friend of mine told me yesterday things will be better when they're three. i'll do my best to hold out until then...

reading is dys-fundamental

a scene from a mother and child, bonding over a book:

"ajure?"

"shirt."

"ajure?"

"door."

"ajure?"

"apple."

"ajure?"

"door."

"ajure?"

"frog."

"ajure?"

"milk."

"ajure?"

"frog."

"ajure?"

"frog."

"ajure?"

"hat."

"ajure?"

"baby."

"ajure?"

"bathing suit."

"ajure?"

"door."

"ajure?"

"chocolate."

"ajure?"

"chicken."

"ajure?"

"flower."

"ajure?"

"frog."

....boy, i really owe the person who invented picture books a big ol hearty roundhouse kick to the nads.

Braiding Miriam's Hair

there as an interesting photo essay in the Atlanta Journal Consitution a while ago about a Emory professor and his wife who'd adopted a child from Ethiopia. the pictures illustrated his efforts to care for his child's hair.

there are many reasons why this story and this photo are touching. the photo hit me like a thunderbolt. many of us have seen black children or interracial children with kinkier hair raised by non-blacks with some crazy looking hair. and many of us have wondered aloud or to one another "why won't somebody puLEASE do that baby's hair!"

but what we're really saying is "why don't you care for this child like you would one with straight hair?"

and there were some moments of *yikes* while viewing the pics (a plastic fork?! PETROLEUM JELLY?!), but the pictures are wonderful nonetheless.

i'm sure there are plenty of non POCs who have made the choice to adopt children of african decent who took the time and made the effort to learn how to care for their children. it's just nice to see it.

and with that, my last refuge was destroyed.

one of the methods i have used to grab myself a small break has been to park the twins in their cribs and turn on a baby einstein dvd. i have found these moments, especially in that period where i'm making dinner in the evenings, to be invaluable.

late this morning, i decided it was time to employ this method. i was lying on the couch not feeling well coughhungovercough, and the girls were crawling all over me. elbows and knees were finding all soft spots on my body never designed for contact with elbow and knees.

i said "cmon, ladies: time for some baby einstein."

i came back to the couch and while the husband surfed online for soccer highlights, i dozed.

so imagine my surprise when i heard him say "look!", opened my eyes and saw Dixie standing in the living room.

turns out she can now get out of her crib on her own.

when the twins do things that they've not done up to this point, i am always met with the same conflicting thoughts and emotions. they usually run together, stream of consciousnessy, sounding like "oh my god look what she can do i'm so impressed on no please jesus make my baby stop leaving me!"

and as i looked into her eyes, i realized i am one step closer to awakening to a finger in my eye at 3 am.

the crushing weight of childcare costs.

Trixie and Dixie's daycare costs increased this month. $10 a week may not seem like a lot, but in my case, that's $10 per week, week per kid.

$240 a week.

$1040 a month.

$12,480 per year.

and when i asked my local childcare assistance agency for help, they told me i make too much money to qualify for help, and that even if i did qualify their waiting list is 3 YEARS long.

these are the realities that cause shortness of breath and tightness in my chest. that's panic, my friends.

and it's not going to go away for a long, long time.

She drive me crazy, but only me is allowed to say that.

there are certain things that Dixie will not abide by:

1) do not take her gorilla out of her bed without her express written permission. yes, she writes permission slips.

2) don't bother her while she's talking on the phone; if you hear her ask "where you at" when she picks up her toy cell phone, it's a serious call. keep it moving.

3) if she is reading a book, don't touch the book....TRIXIE.

4) do not under any circumstance mess with Trixie. and mess is subject to operational definition by Dixie.


Trixie and Dixie, Chillin in the Cut, 12/2007

Dixie, although slightly smaller, is the older, bossier twin in the house. she has a very big personality in a tiny little body and is more than willing to remind you of such if she things you've somehow forgotten.

In the daycare the girls attend, i've been told more than once stories of Dixie smackin a toddler up when she thinks they've gotten out of pocket with her Trixie. Today, before delivering a smack to the head of a kid messing with Trixie, Dixie informed her "no! stop! sister!"

*whaaap!*

two weeks ago, Dixie made her way all the way across the room to deliver a smack to the lips of another kid who had the poor judgment to make Trixie cry. literally dropped what she was doing, ran across the room, and *saved* her sister.

but none of this has any bearing on the the frequency in which i find them fighting like tigers amongst themselves. last week i found Trixie holding Dixie in a wrassle move on their bedroom floor, grinning like a fiend the entire time.

growing up as an only child, i greet the news of her daycare beatdowns with a dark thrill. i hardly ever laugh on the outside because, really?...laughing at toddler on toddler violence is not a good look.

but deep down...ok, not so deep down...i am loving how Dixie has her sister's back. let's just hope it lasts: if these girls decide to fight each other over a damn boy? i'm cracking skulls.

you can't win, why are you even trying?

i was always one of those kids whose barbie dolls had the most wacktastic hairdos in the neighborhood. my mom even bought me one of those barbie doll heads, the ones whose sole purpose is to get little girls to wastes hours and hours styling the hair.

i had neither the gumption nor the talent to create anything other than Crackhead Barbie.

now that i have two little girls with good amounts of hair already, i found myself thrilled to finally be able to brush it all up into a ponytail! they look like little grown ladies when i send them to daycare in the mornings.

...and they come home looking like Kramer in the evenings.

more than once, the daycare workers have told me "you know not long after you leave, they pull out their ponytails, right? they don't last much longer than 20 to 30 minutes!"

ok, then. fine.

so over the last couple of days, i've been sending them to daycare sans ponytails. the way i see it, if they are gonna rock the curly fro most of the day anyway, i may as well save myself a few minutes in the morning getting us outta the house.

sounds rational, right? logical?

so imagine my shock* when one of the daycare workers this morning asked me "mom, why aren't their heads done?"

because my life means nothing unless i can give you something to remind me i'm not doing right, nice daycare lady, that's why.

* and by shock, i mean bitter resentment.

it's been a long time, i shouldna left you, without a dope blog to step to.

i cannot believe it.

i actually have neglected my first blog. i don't have any really good reasons for this neglect, except to say that when you host a blog in a different spot than your other ones, things tend to slip through the cracks.

so i packed up and moved...experiencing some technical difficulties that i hope to iron out a little later....but nonetheless! here i am and i have updates!

i am glad to report i'm in a much better place now then i was then. and by then, i mean March 16! for instance...

- the man i married and i are getting along better. yes, yes, it's true: i am now only wishing i could run away and forget any of this happened 3 days a week. which is a majah improvement from my usual 9 days a week.

- Trixie and Dixie have grown like weeds! we went to the doctor this week and my toddlers are almost 3 feet tall, weigh 23.7 and 23.4 lbs respectively, and only cried for about 5 seconds after getting their shots. AND to make it all even sweeter, we found out that they don't need anymore shots until they are FOUR! to say this news caused a minor celebration in the exam room would be an understatement:



that construction worker is dancing just like Trixie.

- still looking for a new job, with no luck at all. but now that i've taken the ego involvement out of the equation, not getting call-backs isn't nearly as painful as it was before. and it certainly doesn't bring me to tears like it did a few months ago. maybe it helps that despite it all, i do have a job and not a lot of people are that fortunate.

so that's about it. get ready to be hit by a tsunami of funny baby/toddler stories. as a matter of fact, just put your seatbelt on now.

i'll wait.

Fear and I got really well acquainted today

Got some news today that was sort of a downer: i didn’t get a job i was really hoping to land. this job would have enabled me to get where i want to be in the next 3.5 years and would have given me flexibility in my schedule and a chance to actually feel like i’m growing in my career instead of withering away behind a desk.

this on top of a horrifying weekend of arguments with that dude i married where i got to see all of my flaws trotted out to me….but only after they’d been costumed and put on stilts.

and then i had to deal with a nagging fear that i may lose my housing and have to put myself at the mercy of housing providers and possibly face even MORE rejection. i am afraid that i won’t be able to provide safe decent housing for the twins.

these are precisely the moments when i feel less able to provide and more likely to disappoint; when i feel i don’t really have the ability to stave off disaster and there are way too many eyes on me waiting to see me fall. this is all to say: i am not in a good place right now.

but on a positive note: found a recipe for a delicious looking shredded beef taco salad. totally trying it out this weekend!!!

What goes up, usually comes down face first

Excited news from the daycare Wednesday: Dixie learned how to climb up into a chair and sit like a big girl!

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

And then she almost promptly fell off the chair onto the carpet below, because she is still a baby.

Awwwwwwwwwwww!

If toddlerhood has this many ups and down, what do the teenage years hold in store?

Things i learned in 2008

As the year draws to a close, there are all kinds of Best Of lists to remind us of all the great things about the past year. I’d like to take a second to record some of the important lessons I’ve learned in the year 2008, not listed in order of least or most important.

1) The things that you choose to devote your emotional energy to better be worth it. Otherwise, you’re just wasting time better spend on the great things in life.

2) There are plenty of different types of wonderful bottles made by the Baby Industry to help you keep your kid alive. You don’t have to buy them all. Step AWAY from the bottle aisle!

3) Get rid of the things you don’t need. While it may be nice to keep one or two onesies in newborn size, you don’t need to keep 20. And why do you have 5 pairs of size 1 shoes? Seriously, give them to someone who needs them.

4) In times of crisis, try to remind yourself that you’ve been here before and survived. And if surviving means asking for help, then do it; it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you smart.

5) LUVS are the greatest diaper known to man. I learned this lesson in November. After already spending an insane amount of money on Pampers throughout the year.

6) Target brand formula is the greatest formula known to man. I learned THIS lesson in August. After spending an blood-curdling amount of money on Similac throughout the year.

7) Panicking when your kids gets sick without a fever is ridiculous. Babies get colds. It’s not consumption.

8) Your friends who don’t have kids may NOT really want to hear about your kids’ abundance or lack of poop. So what! Tell them anyway, it’ll make a good inside joke.

9) Not everyone will try to be understanding when you have kids. Your supervisor doesn’t have to care, people walking in and out of doors ahead of you in public don’t have to care, and neither do the people driving too closely behind you in traffic. Don’t take it personally.

10) They are ALL right: if you do not nap when baby naps, you will regret it.

11) Plain Cheerios actually aren’t that bad.

12) No matter how much or little you buy at the grocery store, your baby food bill is always going to total about $20.00. I don’t know how the Gerber Gods do it, it just happens.

13) When people ask if your kid is “mixed” and with what, take it in stride. You know what they mean even if they aren’t very artful about how they ask it. But sometimes, just for fun, tell them “yes, with cashew and macadamia.”

14) Most of the well known slogans and symbols of the 20th Century were stolen without credit from the art of motherhood:

“The Toughest Job You’ll Ever Love,”

“We Do More Before 9 am than Most People Do All Day,”

“Do you feel lucky? Well, punk…Do Ya? “

15) Be honest. If you can be strong enough to tell the truth, not only to others but to yourself, you’ll find that you will sleep really well at night.

It’s been a wild ride over these past 12 months. There have been times when I’ve laughed so hard, my eyes watered. And times when I was leaking tears for other, less fun reasons. I can’t wait to see where the next year takes Trixie, Dixie, and me. Should be interesting…

Easy math for social science majors

I got a prize voucher PRIZE VOUCHER in the mail a few days ago. Turns out if I present myself to a local car dealership (no purchase, test drive, or sales presentation required!) I am guaranteed to receive at least two of the following prizes:

- 3 day/2 Night Resort Getaway (retail value $500)

- Complimentary Airfare

- 40” Plasma TV

- Florida/Caribbean Cruise

- $10,000 Cash

At least 2 of those five? Sweet! Maybe i can roll around in the money while watching the tv before leaving for my cruise?

Anyway, i decided to read the fine print and find out the real deal on my guaranteed prize pack. They were so kind as to print the odds of winning for each prize:

-3 day/ 2 Night Resort Getaway (1:1)

- Complimentary Airfare (1:1)

- 40” Plasma TV (1:130,616)

- Florida/Caribbean Cruise (1:1)

- $10,000 Case (1:130,616)

…..so I gotta a really good shot at getting the money, right?

Am i right?

One...two...three...all the way across the floor.

Daycare called. Trixie walked all the way across the room without falling. Depression follows. Tequila shots on my couch: 10:00 pm.

The truth is in the memory card!

I happened to be looking through the photos on my memory card earlier today and i was struck my something:

Trixie really DID look like a boy!

i mean, in some of the pics from just a few months ago, she looked like she had a freakin FADE!

All that time i wasted getting mad at people asking if she’s a boy when i could have used it more wisely: BUYING HAIR BOWS!

Not that i'm jealous, or anything.

Trixie and her dad have a pretty special relationship. The morning she and Dixie were born, Dixie was taken to the nursery while Trixie stayed in the room with us. He and she sat in the chair together and had an up close, very personal, top secret conversation while i was splayed out on the bed getting stitches on my back.

(shudder)

The special place he holds in her heart was made evident yesterday when, after playing with her for a moment, he put her down to go get something out of my car.

As soon as he walked out the door, Trixie started crying!

And just as I was saying to myself “oh no she di’int!” he walked back in because he heard her crying. Long story short, she stopped crying, they got back down to the business of hugs and kisses, and Dixie and i rolled our eyes.

Seriously, it’s not enough that after months of growing ever more gigantic and pushing them out of my body, that they look more like him than me? Now Trixie is actually going to cry when he leaves the room when I barely register of “later, chocolate face” when i drop them off at daycare???

It’s cold in the city, yo.

You may think she's 5 times more qualified...

But that’s because you're doing that crackhead dumbass math.

So the word on the street lately is that due to the fact that I pushed a couple of people out of my body AND managed thus far to keep them alive, I am very, very well qualified for the “second most important job in the country.” I think i have Palin beat; she was so lazy she had to have 5 kids at 5 different times. I, on the other hand, had TWO kids during ONE pregnancy. Now

THAT’s efficiency we can believe in!!

I love how Republicans are playing this shell game with people where they assert that soccer mom, wolf hunter, and all around partygal Sarah Palin is qualified for VP because, dammit, she’s a MOTHER. And when you disagree with that point, then you are not only unAmerican, you are against American Moms everywhere in America…but mostly in small towns!

I am only slightly more irritated by that than I am with the people who scoff at the notion that being a mom really is very important. It’s hilarious to some that Palin is using her role as a mother to claim to be qualified because we all know that women don’t get extra points for having kids! I mean, shit: even ANIMALS do it, it’s not like it’s rocket science.

And so i find myself treading this fine line between wanting to agree that yes, being a mom is not all you need to be in order to be qualified to be Vice President; but also wanting to assert that being a mom IS a very important job! But it’s funny that we even need to feel like we’ve got to make that defense. I mean, couldn’t it reasonably be argued that I am not going to be able to show up at an airport expecting to pilot a plane solely on the credentials of having twins? Can’t we all agree that making that argument is in no way sexist: it’s common sense?

Well, we clearly cannot all agree on that point. In a world where up is sideways and down is hexagonal, we have to hear protective cries of sexism in defense of woman who calls herself a pitbull in lipstick and then hides from the press like a skittish field-mouse. The same lady who uses one son’s enlistment in the military and another son’s disability as a testament to her values and strength as a parent doesn’t want her hypocrisy highlighted by discussion of her unmarried pregnant teenage daughter.

Well, I’m not drinking the Koolaid. She’s not prepared and is not a serious candidate. But not because she’s a mom!

She’s not qualified because she’s an idiot.

So how's it going, newlywed?

"oh...about as well as expected."

...Ya nappy headed negro!

Babysitter - you do know that the babies ain't gonna have hair like YOU.

Boca - ...........

Babysitter - you know....black girl hair. like you.

Boca - *sigh*

Mom-on-mom hitjobs

You know your stuff is completely out of pocket when you get checked by a 6 year old.

Last week i was shopping with the twins. I find that the compartment under their stroller is very useful as a shopping cart. Granted, it causes the stores i shop in to have an employee or two *discreetly* follow me around, but i usually turn that into a fun, fun game of hide and seek.
I was pushing the girls’ stroller down the large, main aisle when we were almost broadsided by a woman pushing a shopping cart out of one of the smaller aisles along the side. I came to a stop and so did she and no one was hurt.

I continued along my way, looking at her and her 6 year old as i passed, giving them a friendly smile….which was met with a glare and an ugly face by the mom!

And just as I was moving past and asking myself if i was seeing things, i heard this conversation:

little girl: “mommy, are you not that lady’s friend?”
devil mom: “i don’t know her.”
little girl: “oh. i was just wondering why you looked at her like that.”

yeah, Devil Mom: why were you looking at me like that??

One of the challenges i face in raising daughters is overcoming my own negative attitudes toward other women. I can’t produce strong, healthy women if I automatically view other women, through a prism of impatience, as suspect and petty. And it annoys me that other mothers aren’t willing to make that same change in themselves for the sake of their daughters.

….which brings me back around to feeling impatient and irritated with other women!

back to the drawing board.

well, ain't that a bitch!

Esposo: My grandmother said the babies are going to be very pretty women when they grow up.
Wifey: Really? How nice....

Esposo: Yeah, because she says they have my color.

Wifey: ...oh.

Worst fears spoken aloud

I read a blog today that scared me out of my wits. And it didn’t help that it followed on the heels of a dream i had last night where i lost Dixie. One minute she was there, then i turned my back for a moment and she was gone, stroller and all. And to make matter worse, no one around me seemed to know what i was talking about when i asked them if they’d seen anyone taking my stroller.

The cold statitics of just how many children of color go missing without so much as a blurb in local papers really taps into that fear I have of not being able to keep my kids safe from the world. And i guess parents only have so much control over the dangers in the world, but it scares me very badly and very deeply when i imagine that there are may be things i simply cannot keep them safe from. And that if something horrible were to happen, I wouldn’t be able to count on the community to ring the alarm to help me find them.

Now not to worry: I’m not going to go off the deep end like the mom in the movie Loverboy. But I can’t help but wonder…if the only things keeping my girls safe is my flesh and bones and the grace of God, what do i do if that proves not good enough?

So, some things have changed.

I started this blog to help relieve some of the pressure and anxiety i felt as a new single mom of multiples. But then i went to got married….so now I’m gonna write about the pressure and anxiety i feel as a newlywed and new mom of multiples.

It’s guranteed to be good times, yo!

A moment to consider Privilege

I went shopping this weekend to try to find shoes for Trixie and Dixie.

Okay, bad parent confession number 491: my kids are pulling up to a stand and trying to take little puny steps and i haven’t bothered to buy them shoes. But i’m trying to change my evil ways.

My broke ass was in a store i had no business in trying to buy baby shoes when a woman wheeled past with her abundantly stocked shopping cart. She looked down at Trix and Dix and said “they are soooo precious! a boy and a girl?”

Okay, aside: both of my girls have their ears obviously pierced. so unless i am paying an especially bizarre homage to Adam Ant, why would one of my kids be a boy???

I told her that i, in fact, have two girls and she replied “oooff! you have a lot of wedding dresses to buy.”

It occurred to me that it must be really nice to automatically assume that 1) your daughters will marry and 2) you’ll be able to afford to purchase their dresses.

Of all the people i know who have married or come damnclosetoit, only ONE has had the fortune of having her parents pay for her wedding completely. In my world, the notion of having a parent pay for your wedding dress is as wonderful a wish as 99 cent gas and a 100 calorie slice of red velvet cake.

In that brief moment of interaction, i saw clearly the line of privilege that separated us from one another.

And then i looked over at a pair of baby shoes with the price tag $28.00 and realized i was behind enemy lines FOR REAL!!!

A balm to make the wounded whole.

There’s this old time church song that goes “There is a balm in Gilead, to make the wounded whole, there is a balm in Gilead, to heal the sinsick soul.”

I have had a pretty rough past month. Between work stress and lightweight drama with my friends and loved ones, it’s almost enough to make a woman get that deer rifle, take that sniper position, and work some issues out.

But something happened just a moment ago that made it all better: Trixie gave me a kiss.

Okay, granted it was a sloppy kiss and involved her putting her open mouth against my jaw and licking it a bunch of times, but whatever: that’s pretty much how a few of my dates have ended.

It was the most extra specialistic, fantastical, grooviest piece of awesomedom i’ve experienced!!

So it turns out there really IS a balm that makes the wounded whole: it’s baby slobber.

Deal with it.

True Dat!

Yeah, i totally know the feeling...

Shopping at Devil-mart...WHEN WILL I LEARN!

I took the chicks to a large retail establishment this afternoon to get pictures taken. i’m not going to identify this place by its real name, so i’ll give it a pseudonym: we’ll just call it Devil-mart.

So, i go to Devil-mart this afternoon for my scheduled appointment and i’m helped by the most dour employee ever. I think that if there’s some type of country-wide competition for Devil-mart Employee with Most F***ED Up Attitude, she’d win. No contest. We’ll call her Bitchy McJacktooth.

I waited patiently for her to continue helping a family who’d just gotten photos taken. I heard her tell them as they were about to make their final photo selection, “look, make sure ya’ll don’t want to change yer order before i place it, becuz you won’t be able to change it.” Bitchy McJacktooth wasn’t exactly nice when she said it. After placing and paying for their order, they asked if they could make another appointment, and she flatly replied without looking at them “sure.”

Bitchy, you’re killing them with the quality customer service.

When Trixie and Dixie were up, she started walking towards the camera and said over her shoulder “i’m ready when you are.”

I said “what exactly am i supposed to be doing?”

She said “put ‘em on the posing table.”

I said “well, i’d like to get one pose for each girl and then a pose of them together.”

She said “yeah, i wuz gonna take a bunch of pictures of them. we usually ask that when there’s two baybees, that both parents be here to stand beside each child on the posing table. but, you know, we can risk it.”

This bitch actually said “we can risk it.”

I replied “i’m not cool with risking it.”

She then said “yeah, cuz i gonna say, it’s not a good idea.”

From this point on, she brightly apoligized and asked me if i wanted to make another appointment. Funny how her mood brightened when she realized she wasn’t going to have to help me.

i started to ask her what exactly single parents of multiples are supposed to do if there is no “other parent” to come to the photo session, but really, what’s the point? Bitchy McJacktooth most likely would have given me some lousy answer that would have irritated me even more.

And plus, really: she didn’t care about my problems and clearly had many of her own.
Having once again failed at giving Devil-mart my money to have photos taken (this was indeed my second attempt), i think it’s pretty obvious that i need to try my luck with JCPenny or Sears.

I really hope things go better for me at one of these places, otherwise it looks like i’m not going to get Trixie and Dixie’s pictures taken until their high school graduation.

My dottahs' a HOWAH!

20-something girl in Target to me: oh my gaaawd! your babies are so cute! can you tell me how i can have twins?

20-something's mother: girl, please. you DEFINITELY know what to do to have babies.

Next time, be specific!

Mom, looking down at her cell phone: oh, we missed Pop-Pop's call. Call him back and see what he's talking about.

hands phone to 7 year-old daughter

Daughter: Pop-pop? What are you talking about?

And shut the door on your way out!!

Bus rider: (sitting down in bus shelter)

Homeless Man: What do you think you're doing?!

Bus Rider: sitting at the bus stop.

Homeless Man: I didn't invite you into my living room!!

A full appreciation for the definition of irony

A few weeks ago i decided to start riding the bus to work in order to SAAAAVE MONEEEEEY.

Sure, it would mean that i would have to drive past the Park and Ride lot to get to the daycare and double back after dropping off the chicks, but it would totally be worth it because it’s going to help me SAAAAVE MONEEEEYYY!

And it almost seems like the hip thing to do. Many of us who don’t really have to ride the bus…yet….find ourselves rubbing our arms for warmth as we tell each other earnestly how $4.00 a gallon has finally driven us to make changes in our lives and thank GOD for the area transit system because we need to SAAAAVVVE MONEEEYYYY!!

Meanwhile, the people who have been riding the buses and trains out of a different sort of necessity wonder when all these other jokers are gonna get tired of being “down to earth” and give them back their seats.

but i digress….

So earlier this week, i got up early, got the girls ready, got us out of the house and them to daycare so that I could go to the Park and Ride and SAAAAAAAVE my little family some serious MONEEEEYYYYY!!

and then i got a $100 parking ticket.

i’ve driven to work every day this week since.

P.S. you look tired as hell!

this is now my idea of a hot, sexy love note.

And a cold brought them all down

Am i living in a chapter of The Stand?

How is it possible for two little people to have this much mucus in their heads? Come ON!
Some background….

Last Tuesday, my little girls were the picture of 6 month old health. Cooing, laughing, playing, and terrorizing the other babies in daycare. Same as always.

Then on Wednesday, things changed. My kids got sick. Congestion? Check. Runny noses? Check. Coughing and hacking? Check squared.

And then came the unthinkable: Wednesday night, my kids woke up every 45 to 60 minutes to scream at me for allowing them to get sick. And the congestion and sheer volume of phlegm had me wondering if perhaps the Super Flu had been unleashed by the government after all.
It reminded me of the horror that was my maternity leave. It reminded me that birth control is the greatest thing since Makers Mark on ice.

Four days later, I am still dodging flying snot and yesterday Camryn threw up all over me, herself, and the couch cushion. Aren’t i supposed to getting medal for this?

Where the hell is my MEDAL!

Babies R Crazy

Why would anyone in their right mind fight going to sleep??

Is that a diaper bag or a garment bag?

When i take the girls to daycare, this is what i pack:
- 6 bottles
- one container of cereal with two spoons
- 2 pairs of sleepers
- 6 onesies
- 2 pairs of socks
- 4 bibs
- two wrist rattles
- 2 extra blankets
- butt butter
- snot sucker
- little noses
- gas drops
- baby tylenol

More often than not, when i pick my kids up, they are wearing some of these clothes, with the clothes i sent them in in the dirty togs bag due to poop blowouts or drool catastrophes.
my diaper bag is a backpack and when i put in on, i feel like Quasimodo. and when i pick up the girls in their carseats while wearing the backpack, i look like Gulliver being attacked by the little people.

No, I look like Peter Gabriel in the Shock the Monkey video.

Wouldn’t it just be simpler to take their stuff to daycare in a garment bag and be done with it?

The "Droolys" and my pop culture references

So i decided to upgrade the girls to a new level of nickname. We started out with Trixie and Dixie, graduated to Giggleface and Biscuit, and have now ascended…thanks to a never ending abundance of saliva….to

Drooly Newmar

and

Drooly McCoy

The really hilarious part about this is that one day, i will have to explain to them where those nicknames came from. And then I’ll be reminded that I am old and uncool.

Can’t wait!

Smiles

I consider myself fortunate in that my kids wake up smiling. Every morning right before i bend down to pick them up, they look up at me and start smiling widely while pumping their arms and legs. And when they are being entertained by company, they look intently into the face of whomever is talking to them and then bust out a giggle. This makes them wildly popular with their dad, my friends, and their daycare provider.

And i gotta admit: it makes the 3 am feeding more tolerable.

When I think of their laughing faces, I think back to the childhood of some of my cousins. I spent a great deal of time growing up with one set of cousins. We were pretty close in age and our mother’s were very close. I remember as we grew up there being a great deal of laughter and joking amongst us all. Even as small kids, we had pretty hilarious senses of humor, evidenced in our rendition of “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang and our placing hair combs in our male cousin’s hair to make it stand up like a porcupine.

But I also remember that when their father was around, there was no laughing, no joking. I remember somber kids who wouldn’t even smile in photographs. And I just assumed that was how it always was and that this uncle was somehow a thief of joy.

My cousins’ mother died of cancer when we were all adults. My cousins were each married and most had children. My mother had come to live with my aunt during her final months and she kept a great deal of old photos of my aunt and my cousins from the early years of her marriage to her husband. I was struck by the fact that in these photos, my aunt and my cousins were filled with joy. Even with her husband behind the lens, I saw photos of my aunt smiling, my cousins smiling their baby smiles, being held and kissed by my aunt and their father.

I was shocked. I almost felt betrayed. How is it that these people I have literally known my whole life weren’t who I thought they were? These were chapters of their lives I didn’t even know existed. MY aunt? Wearing a Halloween costume?? MY cousins?? Laughing and smiling into a camera their father is holding???

When did their childhood joy disappear? And what did my aunt’s husband think and feel when he couldn’t make his children smile and laugh anymore?

Another set of cousins were equally smiley-faced when they were growing up. They were much younger than me and lived in another county, so I only got to see them occasionally. But when i did see them as little girls, it was easy to coax smiles and giggles out of them. All you had to do was give them a squeeze and tell them you loved them and their whole faces would light up.
And the women they are today does nothing to indicate those happy children even existed. One cousin is so filled with anger that she never smiles and more often than not yells at her children in frustration. Much of her adolescence and young adulthood has been characterized by conflict with her siblings and her mother and when you see her, you see a pretty girl who is so angry, it’s like she’s never smiled in her life.

Her sister does still smile and laugh, but still carries a great deal of sadness with her. She is a good person who often does hurtful things to the people who love her the most because she has a sickness. And when you see her, you wonder if the shy little girl she was is still hiding within her, just waiting for someone to once again tell her she is loved…and make her believe it.

When i think of all of these cousins and the unseen events that occurred in their childhoods which seem to have stolen that easy joy they had within them as children, I think about my girls and wonder to what lengths I’d be willing to go to ensure they have happy and secure childhoods. Or, more accurately, to what lengths would I NOT be willing to go.

What i know for certain is when my kids laugh and smile at me, I smile and laugh back. and I want to share moments like that with them for the rest of my life.

On the road to great things...

Have you seen this girl? She's been missing for three months.

I had my twin girls 3 months ago.

In that short time, I’m become a maestro at water-boarding (aka: Little Noses), the ancient art of cotton torture (aka: cotton swabs), simultaneous feedings (aka: Houdini’s last trick), and changing diapers (aka: extreme acts of courage and valor).

And while my little girls mean the entire world to me, I am a little vexed that they apparently have become my entire world to others. Meaning: i feel like i have stopped being a productive employee and fun friend and have become that chick with no husband and two kids.

It seems like simply by the act of having children I have become old, not cool, uninterested in things outside children, and basically and island all to myself. I don’t remember losing that part of myself, but i wonder if anyone around me really sees the fun and interesting part of my personality anymore. And it doesn’t help that my employer is always ready to refer to me as “mama,” “little mama,” eager to remind me “you ARE a single mother of twins,” and to point out in meetings that I “sound just like a mother.”

it is almost enough to make me vomit.

Life really is all about evolving relationships and growing as a person. But how can i find a happy balance between celebrating this new chapter in my life and feeling eclipsed by it?