Archive for July, 2010

And that’s to say nothing of the choking with laughter while the other three cut down trees and ran from snails.

July 31, 2010

I laughed so long and so hard today.

We’ve decided to skip the normal birthday party stuff as it wouldn’t actually be that much for the babies or for us, so instead we are having a bunch of smaller visits from family & friends to help celebrate Snort and Coconut’s upcoming first birthday.

Today was the first party, with their big ol’ gay uncles (and non-god godfather) Compadre and C Dawg. These two boys are so funny and so lovely to be around. But before they came, TMD suggested the four of us (you know, 2 moms + 2 babies = 4 of us) go for a walk, with the idea that I would stop and go home when it was too much. And maybe it wasn’t the longest walk for an able bodied person, but for me it was a loooong walk. And it was good. No crutches, no support belt, minimal pain. No turning back, either.

We went around the neighborhood, we went on the quite rural road behind our house, we went through the park (with a stop off for baby swinging and adult terror rides on the spring mounted animals), and then back home the long way. And it was good.

Then C Dawg and Compadre came. We laughed and talked and ate and played, and then decided we needed ice cream to top things off. A walk to the local shops was deemed necessary, and I decided to come along with no hesitations. And it was amazing.

It felt ‘normal.’ I felt like the old me. Just walking along the street with friends, laughing, sipping ice tea, joking, messing around. I haven’t felt like that in two years.

Two years of being confined to my living room, of wishing I had just one day where I could feel like me again. Turns out today was that day.

It feels like a miracle.

I am jealous of MYSELF for having twins!

July 30, 2010

And the other morning you were wreathed in smiles. Both of you.

Seeing each other for the first time that morning, racing on all fours to meet in the middle of the room, beaming faces. You both reached out at the same time, and then leaned in to the embrace of the other.

Sometimes you guys make me laugh; I think of you as wolf puppies. Because it’s so common to see someone on all fours, leaning in and putting their forehead against the other – just for a minute. Just to say I love you, just for comfort, just for fun. Snort, you just did it to the cat…and then crawled over to Coconut and kissed her hand, the one with the thumb plugged in her mouth.

You crawl fast, looking over your shoulder like, ‘Hey, follow me! Let’s play!’ And the other one always follows. You go in circles. You each ‘hide’ on one side of a big toy, leaning around to ‘surprise’ each other and oh, how you laugh. How you laugh.

When you are together, when you poke at mouths or hug or crawl into a big tangled mess of baby, you laugh in a special way. It is awesome, and magical, and shared. It is delight and joy and love – and it amazes me.

And yesterday when Snort was crying, he was on my lap and I stroked his hair and he continued to cry. Coconut climbed up next to him, slung an arm around him, and she proceeded to stroke his hair. His crying stopped instantly.

In the bath, he will scream and kick and splash while looking at her insistently. She joins in, doing it for him, and they smile so big it seems like someone is going to explode from all the love. She wants to follow him everywhere, even onto ground that’s all rocky and covered in spiky pine needles.

And you guys, for months now you’ve loved putting a finger – or usually your entire hand – into my mouth, curling your fingers down to grab my lower jaw, and pulling my face to yours. Now you do it to each other, too.

You’ve started to share toys, to trade toys, to be more gentle when the other has something you want. You are always watching each other. You stand up next to each other a lot. Coconut pulls up on Snort’s shirt and hangs on to him. Snort enjoys everything more if he can entice her to follow him and join in.

Twins are awesome.

Twins are the best.

Twins are laughing and loving and learning. Twins are comforting to each other, twins are fun to play with, twins will play peek-a-boo and hug and cuddle each other. Twins wrestle, twins pet each other (Coconut is obsessed with his hair!), twins have one hell of a good time.

Sometimes we just stop and watch how Snort and Coconut are with each other. The deep and obvious love they have for each other, even at such a young age. The way they are already playing meaningfully together (singletons can’t really play with another child until they are much older..). Everything about them is so special and funny and charming.

They’re so cool, so kickass, and….wow.

Just wow.

Ten ‘technological’ facts.

July 28, 2010

10. I had a pager in the early 1990s. It was teal and AWESOME. My babies get their gangsta from me.

9. I only wear Baby G watches – preferably with plastic straps. TMD buys me one like every six years and I wear it until it is a faded brown poop colour, no matter what colour it started out as. (I need a new one, incidentally.)

8. Right now my first ever mobile phone contract is so overdue for renewal and I am panic attacking over which free phone to get. I don’t want any of them because they are crap.

7. I love reading reviews of technological things (or anything, I suppose). But it is a thankless job when every review of every phone I am eligible for says that phone is crap.

6. My sister is getting an iPhone 4 ’cause she is more gangsta than me, and mailing me her 3GS ’cause I am more poor than her. *DO NOT FORGET TO DO THIS, SISTER.* Once I have this new-to-me awesome phone, I give TMD the new piece of crap I am entitled to….’cause we are poor, remember? Don’t feel too sorry for TMD (unless you want to donate us a phone!) because even a new piece of crap is lightyears ahead of our old pieces of crap. It’s all relative.

5. I married someone who is somewhat of a technophobe, and possibly wouldn’t use the internet for anything other than her email if Farmville did not exist. I’m only slightly exaggerating.

4. My uncle worked for a certain top brand of PC for years and years and we had a computer when I was in third grade. That is long before computers were in the home, dawg. PC Junior in the hizzouse! Bouncing Babies! King’s Quest! (I used old school reams of computer-paper-with-feeder-holes-on-the-side to create mastercharts of where the wolves, witches house, and tree stumps were.)

3. We did not get cable till I was in fourth grade, which was long after everyone else had it.

2. I never listened to the radio till I was in sixth grade (possibly explaining at least part of the reason I had few friends?). I also never had a Whopper till I was in tenth grade. No, we weren’t Amish.

1. Me and my sista were ACE at blowing on old Nintendo games to make them work. Quick blow left, quick blow right, three fast puffs in the middle!! (Best game ever that also makes no sense? Mysterious Mansion! Though I also holla for Bubble Bobble!)

I’ll stop doing this in public when they are old enough to be embarassed by me.

July 24, 2010

Today we drove over an hour to go pick out the next stage carseats. We’ve bought bigguns that can be rear or forward facing, and we certainly plan to keep them rear facing as long as possible! These seats last till age 6, so that’s us set until we need booster seats. Expensive mofos, but at least we got a 10% discount on account of the whole twin thing.

Of course no daytrip is complete without a picnic lunch. Which, for us, means finding a beautiful park with giant lakes, rivers, and forests….that we couldn’t go near because of the whole non-walking thing. So we went a bit away from the carpark and had a lovely lunch on some grass.

Perfect weather, dude. Not too hot, and totally cloudy with a slight breeze. I am all about the cloud cover now that we’ve got kids.

All of that is just the preamble, though.

What I really came here to tell you is that I went pee in public. Very nearish this carpark, and in full view of both sides (though with a bit of scrub to block my ass from the sidewalk) of a fairly busy path leading from the carpark to the part.

I didn’t pull my underwear down a la traditional lady peeing. I pulled the crotch over (the bathing suit maneuver, dontcha know), lifted my skirt, and went like a freakin’ racehorse. I swear to you I don’t think I could have stopped, even if park wardens had appeared and were running at me with little pieces of paper stamped with a huge fine.

I made up a pretend story of telling the pretend park rangers I was pregnant and couldn’t wait, even as my pee released the pungent smells of the pine needles and moss below me.

Pee pee pee pee pee.

I handed TMD the camera before I went, but she didn’t take any pictures. Killjoy. I made her take a picture of me after the deed was done, standing next to The Spot and pointing to it. If you are my facebook friend, no doubt I will upload this picture with no explanation sometime soon – but you will know the secret truth.

My mother has never had qualms about peeing in public. And you know what? It was liberating. My bladder and state of mind both thanked me, and it allowed me to enjoy the remainder of the picnic in comfort.

So as far as days go, the whole peeing in public thing made this one pretty good. (As did Snort giving me SIX sloppy kisses in a row in the park and playing dollies with Coconut for the first time ever this morning!) Of course, I did tell TMD I would ‘rip her fucking face off’ if the fact that she neglected to give me the new card that we carry around to prove we belong to a multiple births national association that gives us discounts would mean we had to pay full price. And she told me to stop ‘acting like a fucking idiot’ for some reason I do not recall.

Elmo, who was in the front seat, told us both that we were being mean and he did not like it. TMD told him he should close his mouth until he learns a little bit more about menstrual cycles and how they make people jerks, and Elmo told her he knows about them because blood is red and so is he.

So. This was our day.

.

July 23, 2010

Today the pain is so bad I sit here, watching them in their pajamas and too full nappies, and wonder how I am supposed to cope.

Moments like these.

July 22, 2010

A snapshot: one tiny boy rolls off his bouncy chair and palumphs onto the floor, cuddling his blanky and still sleeping. He pushes up on an elbow after a bit, turns to look at me, and chatters. Another tiny child, this one a girl, immediately wakes and searches out her brother. Grinning, I plop her in his chair.

He crawls over, pulls up on my knee, puts his head on my leg. I scoop him up and he curls, froglike, on my belly. Surprised, I kissed him. These moments of holding him are getting more rare, and all the more precious for it. He sleeps instantly, curled on the left side of my belly – just as when he was in my belly.

His sister frowns. She looks at him, at me, at the couch. She tries again and again to get on the couch, till I take pity on her and lift her next to us. She smiles at her brother, radiance shining out of her little body – that only minutes before had been so sad because she was on the ground and we were on the big, red couch.

She reaches for him, and I laugh as I pull her arm back. She smiles and reaches again, her fingers tracing his lips…and one little finger poking into his nose.

‘Stop!’ I whisper. ‘You funny girl, he’s sleeping.’

She gives me a look and yanks her arm away from my restraints. And the feeling communicated to me is clearly, ‘He is MY TWIN. I can do what I like, he belongs to me and I belong to him.’ This hit me in a wave, this specialness they share, and I realise that as a mother there are some things only my children will know about.

And so I let her. She leans forward and kisses him, and my arms encircle these two precious babies on the cusp of something foreign, something grown up, something where this gentle love and togetherness may begin to exclude me. They may not be strictly ‘babies’ anymore, though I think of them as such, but they certainly are not toddlers.

They are eleven months old, they belong to each other, and they are gracious enough to always, always make space for me.

Snort’s hips are a-okay!

July 20, 2010

Where do I start? Family drama, the definition of the word ‘toddler,’ first bithday plans….or maybe Snort’s hips.

I know it’s been like 7,000 years since I first wrote about his possible hip dislocation and my resulting freak out that he would need surgery, traction, and a stay in hospital – but that’s because the health system moves slowly here. It’s ‘free’, so that’s awesome, but it’s one turtle that is unlikely to ever win a race.

Anyway, he had his hip ultrasound this morning. Jesus, he was squealing like a stuck pig, trying to crawl off the table, thrashing around – until I stepped in. Oh, my friend, with a pink rattle, a red plastic fish that puffs air out, and my excellent ‘enthusiastic face/voice’ that kid was mesmerized.

So were the health professionals. But I digress.

The lady didn’t get any excellent shots of his hip to send to the radiologist because of the aforementioned crazy, but she did say she saw enough to see that his hips were perfectly healthy.

Another thing to be thankful for on this humid, still morning.

Unexpected joy.

July 19, 2010

My pregnancy, birth, and post-birth experiences were not what I wanted. I pictured a blissful giant bump and myself, skipping lightly through fields. I imagined an all natural vaginal birth. And I certainly anticipated carrying on breastfeeding for longer than I did.

But for all my hopes and wishes, here I am with two gorgeous babies who’ve just turned 11 months – and everything is good.

I was signed off sick from work at 19 weeks (and let’s be honest, prior to 19 weeks I was working half days or calling in sick due to the extreme vomit fest). This was the best thing that could have happened. I was given months and months of unbridled napping, eating, and resting. All my energy went towards growing my babies, and I do credit the months of rest and weight gain for going full term with two very healthy and singleton sized babies.

My birth? A planned c section, since both babies were breech. It was the best experience of my life. Our surgical and midwifery team (and the other 7000 people there) did everything possible to make us feel welcome, calm, and in control. I laughed so much during the birth. And afterwards I was able to focus on our babies while they did their business behind the curtain. Staff were there just to hold the second baby close to me while TMD held the first. My c section likely prevented me worse injury from my SPD as well.

And the breastfeeding? I loved it fiercely, but you know what? I like formula feeding. Go ahead – shoot me. I was physically unable to breastfeed (though remain hopeful that all the nursing in the first few weeks will help my nerves regenerate and I may be able to breastfeed any following babies!) and SO UPSET about switching to bottles. On reflection, I am grateful.

Bottle feeding allowed TMD to feed her children just as much as I did. Bottle feeding allowed us more rest. Bottle feeding has grown my children strong and healthy, and I no longer feel torn up inside about not breastfeeding.

Nothing turned out how I wanted it to, but now that I look back, I am happy everything happened the way it did. It has got me to this point: two little babies smiling at me, cramming wraps and apples in their mouths, playing peek-a-boo with each other almost constantly.

There are few things in life we can definitely control – particularly in regards to possible pregnancy or birth complications. But we can control our reactions to these things, and I choose gratitude. Again and again, I choose to be thankful for every step that led me to a peaceful place where I have forgiven my body for not letting me breastfeed, for breaking down under the strain of a multiple pregnancy.

How can I not?

I am blessed.

I sit here, carefully watching my children out of the corner of my eye. One on each side of a giant toy, swinging from side to side to peek at each other and boom with laughter. One running from the other who is giving gleeful chase. My lounge is cluttered with toys, my heart is crowded with love.

This is how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to be this happy, and I am. I will not stop giving thanks for this life, for these children, for the possibility of more perfect moments that I did not plan or expect.

PIZZADILLA: The Musical!!

July 16, 2010

Settle down in your seats –  the show is about to start. I hope you have snacks that are quiet to chew, because you don’t want to disturb those sitting near you – you’ll all have to concentrate to understand the complex truths and subtle messages contained within this great musical…

The red curtain parts….

Presenting PIZZADILLA: THE MUSICAL!

(Notice how both babies manage to ignore my rousing performance? It’s because they are used to me behaving this way. I do it a lot. *kiss*)

pizzadilla recipe

PIZZADILLA: the recipe (and some preliminary reviews)

July 15, 2010

Oh, hundreds of thousands of you were asking for the PIZZADILLA recipe on Twitter. Fear not, my whimsical chefs, I’ve got all you need for tummies aged tiny – old.

First step:

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Yes, it’s a plain tortilla on a white plate. I realise it’s the blurriest picture in the world, but let’s be honest. If you can’t visualise a tortilla on a plate, the cooking skillz needed to make Pizzadillas are probably beyond you. Only visionaries who dream big can make them.

Next step:

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Squirt tomato paste all over your sad little tortilla, and use a knife to try to spread it around. This takes supreme effort and concentration, since everybody knows tomato paste doesn’t like to spread. Notice my concentrated little knife marks. I am one serious chef, yo.

And then:

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Cheese! We use full fat, full flavour mature cheddar. (Full fat foods are a must with baby led weaning, kids. Babies don’t need any skinny minnie bullshit.) Here I’ve lovingly grated and judiciously sprinkled it evenly across the surface of the period blood – I mean, the tomato paste.

Time to make a taste sensation:

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Here we seem to have hit on the ultimate Pizzadilla flavour nest. I know because I made three different Pizzadillas, and this first one was lust-a-rific, at least from Snort and Coconut’s point of view. I’ve got finely diced yellow peppers and green olives. (And I think the taste of the smushed up clumsily cut olives is actually KEY to the success of the Pizzadilla.) I’ve also thrown on some oregano.

Next, you take another lonely little tortilla, smack it on top of this pretty little mess, and bang that shit into the microwave. I made the mistake of cooking the first one for two minutes, and delaying lunch by about 16 hours while we waited for it to cool. The next one I zapped for a minute, and that was perfect.

When it comes out, you cut it into six charming pieces. I served it with the leftover yellow peppers (because the Mamadilla I made was without peppers, since peppers make me want to die inside) and pears.

See here:

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And voila! You have got yourself six hot, tasty little pieces of heaven.

The preliminary test group:

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I think you’ll appreciate this was a moment of nail biting excitement. Not only was this test group composed of famous food critics and movie stars, but…and this is a big but (big butt – ha! I’m 12!)….their final decision on the Pizzadilla, if unanimous, would win me the brand new category of Nobel Prize: innovation and involuntary genius in cooking.

Judge one:

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Judge two:

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They LOVED it!! And they weren’t the only ones.

I’ll have you know that one piece was saved (by ‘saved’ I mean I didn’t get around to cleaning the table, so it sat out congealing for four hours until TMD got home) and when my wife tasted it, her eyes lit up. These things might not look like much, but do they taste GOOD.

She said, and I quote, ‘This thing is fucking magical’ and ‘this is the best quesadilla I have ever eaten.’ And that was after it had sat out minding its own business and getting gross. Imagine how good they are fresh. She even requested I make her one! I also admit to filming a Pizzadilla interview with her, which I am debating putting on the blog.

But….the best part of the Pizzadilla? They prompted the creation of PIZZADILLA: THE MUSICAL and it will be premiering on my blog tomorrow. Put on a pantyliner now, cause I know you’re gonna piss yourself with excitement several times while waiting to see this video.

If any of you become Pizzarilla Guerillas and strike upon another tasty combination of fillings, do come here and let the rest of us devotees know. I don’t know much, but I do bet at least three of your asses are going to make Pizzadillas sometime today, am I right??


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