The Baby Juggler

Mommy Blogger? Or Me Blogger

I think I rarely write anymore about my children, or what it is like to parent two two-year-olds.  I write about the frustration I feel, or my depression, or how much I'm eating and gaining, but not about my children.

Mini has become the Little Tyrant in our househ0ld.  Her sweet and affectionate nature is balanced with a bossy and knows-what-she-wants attitude.  She is often the instigator in any household crime, whether it be stealing bathroom sundries from the bathroom counter, or even climbing on the bathroom stool and "brushing her teeth" when I'm on the other side of the house (damn these 1950s ranch houses).  I don't THINK Jr. has the natural cunning to get up to these high jinks on his own.  She is extremely attached to me, and I think this stay at home mom gig has increased that attachment.  I'm a bit concerned as I will be looking for a retail job while waiting for a professional job to open in this area, and will be attempting to work nights.  She will have to be able to go to sleep without nursing soon.

Mini will not, will not involve herself in an independent activity for more than 5 minutes per day.  She is either trailing me, holding onto my leg while I stagger across the kitchen trying not to let her fall, or pounding me with a book demanding I read it to her.  She will NOT read it to herself, no way.

Jr.  What can I say about him except I have recently become the villain in his life and I'm not sure why.  When J was gone on a business trip and he awoke in the night, he would simply cry, not cry out "mommy" (me).  Normally he cries out to "mama" (J) immediately, but while J was out of town he apprently knew that was useless and simply cried.  I can comfort him, I am searched for in a room full of tots and moms (if J is not there), but if J is around I am a spawn of satan.  I reach to caress his head, he shrieks like I've stuck something sharp under his fingernails.  He has even run to J and grabbed her leg with a look at me, like, "you can't catch me here.  See Mama, what that mean Mommy tries to do to me?  See?  We should just get rid of her already."  I'm hoping this is just a developmental stage and does not speak for my parenting skills.  He looks at me as if I am truly evil.  It's bizarre.

BUT, he is my sweet boy, my little guy who can get caught up in his own play for many many minutes at a time, who loves to look at books and talk about the pictures to himself.  The cutest thing he does now as he falls asleep is he'll randomly and sleepily recite lines from various books, from The Foot Book by Dr. Seuss, "slooow feet, QUICK feet, SIIIIICK feet (when we were all sick)", or from Goodnight Gorilla, "goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight," which is much cuter than typed out here, as he attempts to do the various animal voices I have created for each "goodnight" from a squeaky mouse to a big elephant to a gangly gorilla.

Sometimes I wish I could record the things heard over the baby monitor.

We are still bottling/nursing at bedtime.  I know, I KNOW, but I still don't think my kids drink enough fluids during the day to just throw them into bed at bedtime.  I'm not sure how to transition to a bedtime ritual without milk and still get enough fluid in them daily.

In other realms, my house is disorganized, my finances are disoranized, my files or in disarray so I am late in bill payments (not me AT ALL).  I am overwhelmed and scared about money which makes me procrastinate in looking at our account and paying bills.  I need to get it and my files together (somehow it seems they are related).  Ugh.  Moving across country bites the big one, don't let anyone tell you different.

Didn't mean to end on a negative.  The babies (TODDLERS) are adorable and lively and maddening and keep me on my toes all day every day.  I couldn't love them more.  We are definitley reevaluating our decision to have another, however, wanting more and more to focus our energy (ENERGY) and attention and time and money on these two, rather than adding another.  There is great ambivalence (SP) in this decision for us, but I am becoming more at peace with the idea of stopping here.  They are, of themselves, perfection.

Cheating on my stylist and potty training tales

OWI have done it.  I have left my stylist.  She and I broke-up.  I just couldn't take it anymore.  I used to think, "you just don't listen to me.  I said I wanted to KEEP the length."  She always cut and styled the part on the opposite side of my head from the way it was when I came in the salon.  And let's not even talk about her color; when I said CHUNKY highlights of red and some blonde, it did not mean miniscule thin blonde highlights strewn subtly throughout my head of hair.

I inherited her from my ex-girlfriend's sister, let's call her L (the sister, not the ex).  She used to cut and blow-dry my hair, way back in the 1990s.  After some devastating life incidents for all of us, more so her and my ex, she moved away, to a slightly famous town with delicious southern meat and three, famous for its "Automatic for the People", birthplace of some music way back in my day.  Notice I don't mention the football.

L was my stylist and I gave her free reign with my hair.  She was the one who instituted the shortest hair in my life which is somehow the haircut on my driver's license photo, the one that will not EVER be re-taken (can someone explain that to me?  I look forever 26 years old with SHORT hair, which was short for only about a year).  She saw me through my flock of seagulls regression (which was VERY good hair for me, by the way), then left me.  So I stayed in the same salon, with the salon's owner to be specific.  And I even let her mother start waxing my virgin brows, my hairy lip (ummm... why is my upper lip skin dark?  I look like I have a moustache even after I've been waxed) and my chest.  Er. Yeah, ok, so I have a patch on my chest, alright? Aside, I swear her mother (the waxer)n is bipolar.  She is so happy she's fake one day, the next she's annoyingly evil.  She tried to withold the numbing cream from me once, saying "ohhh, do we use that on you?  We've never used that on you."  Only 97 times.

So my NEW stylist cut and texturized like I haven't been texturized since L left town.  It was soooo good.  you'd think, as I have essentially no hair and what I DO have is fine, fine, baby fine, that slicing hair off willy-nilly would cause me to look as if I had less hair, but nee, this causes enough sway and movement to give the illusion of thicker, fuller hair. 

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On potty training twins.  I think we are doing pretty well.  The initial fracas with one naked baby running from the bathroom with pants around ankles, careening around the house urinating freely while I was tied-up with roping the other baby, has subsided to the little ones wanting to sit.  and sit.  on the potty.  And each has chosen his/her own potty placement in the bathroom.  Mini sits in the potty closest to the bathtub, Jr. Sits in the one closest to the door.

Potty time is fascinating for all involved.   We caught Mini one day mid-poop and she agreed to complete the task on the potty.  Jr. came loping behind, nosing his way curiously behind Mini's tush to take a peek.  As he saw the fruits of her labor, he expressed a very impressed, "wowwwww."

So, no longer live in fear, my friends.  If we are not under control in the potty department, at least we are calm.

Typepad, you've changed. I don't recognize you anymore

What can I say.  I've been busy reading blogs, but otherwise just living my life, not feeling like writing about it.  I DO want to document the babies' development and tell what I hope are funny stories about life with two toddlers, but I am inherently lazy.  It seems I can run and lose weight or I can blog, not both. 

Recent good news.  I have dropped down to a size 12.  I think I am still a big 12, but a 12 nonetheless. 

About two Fridays past I went into Nordstrom at my lunch hour, strolled around one of the departments for about 2 minutes and 23 seconds, and quickly began to hyperventilate. 

Shopping overwhelms me. 

I don't know if I've mentioned that I've been wearing about three of the same pants to work for the last 18 and a half months.  A cotton pair of Gap's slightly dressier pants size 14, ANOTHER cotton pair of perhaps Gap cotton dressier pants size 16, and a pair of khakis, Gap.  These pants were becoming tired and threadbare, but the Scottish thrifty genes took hold and kept telling me that I would lose this baby weight SOON, VERY VERY SOON, cause I was breastfeeding/pumping sustaining life solely through my breasts for TWO babies.  Hm.  When this fantastic weight loss breastfeeding proponents shout to the world did not miraculously occur, I settled into my pants, thinking I could live in them another six months or so, then fit into my old wardrobe of 12s, then down to my slightly larger wardrobe of 10s.  Hm. 

I have been running and working out much more consistently in the past three months, and I think it is finally paying off.  I told J how overwhelmed I became at Nordstroms and she offered to do a preview shopping for me.  I chose Nordstroms because J swears by the clothing quality, the amazing customer service, and they were having a huge sale this past week.  Prices are really very low.  SO, J took last Saturday and pre-shopped.  I told her to chose 14 pants and size XL shirts, to not be fooled, even if they look to big.  I told her I was a perfect XL. 

Imagine my surprise when almost everything I tried on was too large.  So I got almost everything in a size 12 or large shirt.  And I feel good, more like me again than I have since the babies took over my body almost two and a half years ago.  I am still not at the weight at which I feel most comfortable, but I am getting closer to it.  There are changes, my stomach holds more fat than it used to, bigger love handles and extra skin; but they are changes I may come to terms with if I can feel more comfortable in my clothes. 

Or not.  You might still find out one day that I am vacationing in South Africa, getting a tummy tuck.

Just sitting here listening to music

I love this post by Emmie.  "I am mama, hear me bray."  Only a mother of multiples can really understand.

I am musically illiterate.  If you are not an Indigo Girl or some other feminist lesbian with an acoustic guitar, I will probably not be into your music.  When I say "into" (I just can't do it, put that comma before that quote.  It goes against everything I believe in), I mean I won't be buying your CD to listen to in the car.  Interestingly enough, I know more lyrics than most people I know.  I've been known to hear someone make some innocuous statement, like, "oh, check out those rhinestones on her shirt," and break into Like a Rhinestone Cowboy.  My personal record was a hot day helping a my job move a residence from one apartment complex to another (it was a residential home for crazy kids- very not PC of me, I know).  I think every comment someone made I had a song to follow-up.  I know, I wanted to kill me too.

I'm sitting here listening to one of my favorite non-lesbian male singers (I can't comment on the status of his feminism) who sounds a lot like James Taylor (also one of the few non-lesbian male (is that redundant?) singers I like) who does play acoustic guitar.  Listening to him gives me a pre-baby flashback.  The memory is physical; I feel young and unencumbered, feeling all the possibilities of my life again, before those possibilities were fulfilled. 

EDITED TO ADD:  Incidentally enough, I accidentally posted this, it wasn't finished.  I swear I hit "draft" when my son pulled me from my reverie of the past by screaming awake from his nap.  Ah well, thought not finished but as worthy of publishing as some of my other posts.

What the critters are up to and other stories

The toddlers are developing and reaching milestones at an exciting rate.  Some of this is good.  More words are said, more thoughts are expressed.  I can see them begin to process the idea of emotion, when we talk about feeling mad or sad, or look at pictures of a baby crying in a book.  Meanwhile, Mini is all over me, not wanting me out of her sight, following me around asking for "up, up."  She screams no whenever J approaches her for snuggles or smooches.  She giggles reluctantly when J tickles her trying to make her laugh.  Then she asks to nurse, or asks for the "boppa", which she now insists on having to nurse.   She knows where each of her boppies are at all times (we have an upstairs and a downstairs boppy) and has even been known to bring the boppy to Apa (the super nanny) with the strangely sinister/demented giggle she emits when she knows nursing is imminent (insert any cartoon villian here). 

Nightweaning is going pretty well.  Mini is still waking-up about once or twice a night, but she HAS been fine just being held and snuggled for a few minutes, then put back down.

Mr. Jr. Man, meanwhile, has been teething AGAIN.  We think his two year molars are about to come in.  He has been feeling much better and recently gaining weight fairly rapidly!  A whopping 24 lbs at last weigh-in on our home scale!  Fast recovering from the illness that dropped him to 20 and a half pounds and caused umpteen emergency room visits as well as struck terror in moms' hearts. 

Jr. is starting to talk more again, often telling me stories or "reading" from books aloud.  His favorite homebound pastime is to read, looking at pictures and absorbing them into his mind.  Often he points to pictures in books that I cannot see from my vantage point, demanding "dat.  DAT." He wants me to name the object. 

His obsession with transportation has evolved to include airplanes and helicopters.  What amazes me most about this is his ability to transfer a concept onto other ideas.  For example, the first time I remember him asking me about an airplane, it was a cartoonish picture of an old-time airplane.  I showed him the sign for "airplane" accompanied by an appropriate aviation-like  zooming noise.  I must also note that we live in a very wooded city, and this time of year the skies are hard to see through the greenery.  Airplanes fly so high over our home, unless it is winter without greenery, you really can't see them unless you look straight up through the trees.  Try to get a 19 month-old to look straight up at the sky.  Go ahead.  I'll wait here. 

Thought so.  Anywho, he can now look at any picture of any kind of airplane and identify it as such.  Also, he can hear an airplane in the sky and he will look around (not straight up, more just above the horizon) and sign the word for airplane while scanning for it.  Genius.

After our last zoo visit, for some strange reason the babies have both begun to use the sign for "gorilla" whenever they see a picture of a panda.  My ONLY guess is that the sign for "bear" and "gorilla" are similar in toddler terms so they have the SIGNS confused, not the animals.  At least they are consistent, right?  RIGHT?

I was going to write about my quest for THREE letters of recommendation.  THREE.  Is one supposed to ask an employer from five years ago to provide one?  Should I use an old one?  My profession is so small, I usually only work with one other of "me" at any time.  I will ask the head of my department, I will ask my co-worker, who is the senior of the two of us at our company.  Otherwise there is really no one else with whom I currently work I would want or need to provide me with a letter of reference.  I've lost touch with the last co-worker with whom I worked closely (I think she moved to Arkansas, plus I have a "cringe memory" in that relationship and feel uncomfortable re-establishing contact).  PLUS, doesn't one usually provide references when the time to leave current employment is pending (i.e. when the position applied for is being offered).  This is for a position starting in September, why would they think I could let my employer know NOW that I need references for another position.  Strange.  Luckily, I AM giving notice next week (anxious gasp, challenging the gods or fate in doing this BEFORE house closing).

Aside-  I came back to this post after several hours and had NO recollection of calling the babes "critters" in the title.  I have never, not once, referred to them as critters.  We used to have a house-full of animals, before old age, diseases, and grandma took them (not necessarily in that order).  I used to call THEM critters, but never the babies.  Weird.  Weird.  Weird.

Any other typos or spelling errors (I'm perfect, they are TYPOS, ok, NOT spelling errors) or grammar errors I'm gonna ignore  cause I'm tired and going to bed.  Sorry to the Language Police.

I'm crabby!

I REALLY need my medication.  Ever since my "cycle" resumed, I have been pretty much back to my bitchy self.  I am not sure what to do about this.  Is it really ok to go on Prozac for bitchiness?  And I have to wait till the breastfeeding ends, anyway. 

Today at work EVERYONE was late, so I missed my lunch time workout.  I have to leave at exactly 11:58 to get to the gym on time to be able to jog three miles, shower, dress, blow dry hair, and run through the drive-thru for a grilled chicken sandwich and a cup of soup for lunch to make it back to work at 1:33.  I'm supposed to be there by 1:30.  And yes, I'm lucky I can take an hour and a half lunch.  I'm spoiled and don't care.

Yesterday I forgot my towel (stupid club that I pay stupid money to can't even provide towels) so I couldn't work out at lunch either.  Ooooh, I'm so mad at myself and the situation I could SCREAM.  See?  Crabby. 

Missing this work-out was really frustrating for me, as I didn't go to the YMCA Wed. night so Nag-ee could go into work (which she never did), so I missed two of my planned four work-outs this week.  I am never going to lose this 20 lbs. of "baby weight."  In fact, 15 months after the fact, can I, in good conscience, still call it "baby weight?"  I think not.

And to make it worse, I comforted myself at lunch today with Taco Bell.  Evil, evil, Taco Bell- but oh so delicious. 

I think I would be less crabby if I knew I was actually going to be able to run regularly and consistently.  I cannot miss one or two days every week, especially in this "beginning" period of my training.  It is ineffective to weight loss.  I am getting so frustrated about it that everything is igniting my already short fuse.

I am also frustrated because I have truly (minus Taco Bell today) been trying to cut portions and chose BETTER foods (the reason I run is so I can have SOME food fun in my life) and I am still seeing no benefit.  For about two weeks I could tell I was starting to lose weight, then the babies got sick, then I got sick and I couldn't make it to the gym to run on the treadmill.  The MOST frustrating thing is that these are not just lame excuses.  I am really good about going for runs when I CAN.  I don't enjoy working out, but it had become such a normal part of my routine that I really can do it without too much of a struggle.  I just don't think about it and "just do it," to borrow an old but true ad campaign. 

So, as this is all about my selfish need to look and feel better, please cross your fingers with me that I'll soon be able to get back to a new running routine.

P.S.  Can I say "frustrated" one more time in this post?  Can I put one more word in "quotes?"  And yes, I am one of those annoying "air quoters."  I can't stop myself.

My Dirty Little Secret

Ummm... so, how out of the closet is everyone about their Blog Life?  Me? Not at all.  I would be horrified if anyone I knew saw what I wrote here (especially if they found spelling errors).  I have a low threshold for shame, and the thought of people I know reading and judging my thoughts makes me cringe.  I personally know that I know one other blogger (or at least his moms) online, and I purposefully haven't linked to them because they MIGHT figure out who I am, ummm, the lesbian with twins?  to whom they sent a gift last year? for the twins?  (an aside, I really need to do the dishes, the sponge must smell and is making me gag, but I'm on a roll and don't want to forget what I'm writing) 

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One of my patients today was a 5 month-old-boy, born at 31 weeks with a history of Twin Twin Transfusion Syndrome.  I debated with myself prior to testing him with whether it was professional to mention to the mother my story.  Then I thought, to hell with it, I'm mentioning it.  Rarely do I get a chance to speak to people about my daughter Sophia, let alone people who might understand the pain and difficulty of the kind of pregnancy I experienced. 

Her little guy, let's call him Manny, was probably the size of an eight week-old newborn.  She told me his twin survived as well and was 12 lbs. (I've already forgotten how old my little babies were at 12 lbs).  Manny was her "stuck" baby, meaning no or little amniotic fluid in his sac (Mini was first my receiver baby, with too much fluid, but in the end something strange and very unusual happened and Mini and Sophia reversed roles and Mini became my stuck baby.  It was touch and go until she started to produce more fluid).  Manny has some cerebral palsy (he had some mild brain hemorrhaging SPSPSP???? at birth, was not breathing.  He had an Apgar score of 1).  He just had his feeding tube removed last week.  He was released from the hospital in November.  He has some problems with aspiration (hey, Jr. has/had that and he is not even the TTTS baby). 

It was interesting talking with her for several reasons:  1) She and I had the same doctor, we both shared how we missed him after the delivery.  After seeing this doctor and getting extra special treatment and ultrasounds once or twice a week, it kind of feels like you've been dumped by a boyfriend/ girlfriend after the babies arrive.  I am glad to know I am not weird in feeling that way.  2) She and I both made the trip to the hospital in another state for evaluation and possible surgery (ummm... which they do without putting you under) to help save the babies' lives.  She was told she was almost not a candidate as her case was too poor.  She had the surgery and it was as successful as it could be.  I arrived at the hospital, waited hours for my ultrasound, and saw no heartbeat for my little baby C- of course I saw this before the tech even mentioned it.  I mean, at that point I could probably have done my own ultrasound and doppler examination. 3) She understood what it was like, living ultrasound to ultrasound, just checking for a heartbeat. 

I've been reflective lately about our journey, from triplet pregnancy, to TTTS, to losing a baby, to delivery of two amazingly healthy babies.  I've thought long and hard about "what would have happened if..."  It's a tough game to play with myself.  Tonight Nag-ee asked me what I would rather, the way things are now, or the potential for having had all the babies at 24 or 25 weeks, with other possible unknown outcomes, such as dead babies, or babies with multiple disabilities (ok, she didn't ask me if I'd rather all the babies died, just that we would have had a choice to have all of them prior to Sophia dying on her own).  I cannot even contemplate the choice.  If Sophia hadn't died, we WOULD have had that surgery, had we been candidates.  If we'd gone to the special specialist one week or two weeks before, we might not yet have qualified for the surgery.  (So how did it get so bad so fast?  What else happened there?  We've always suspected some other placental problem on top of everything, but the damn hospital never informed us of our placenta pathology exam results (if they even did one- note to self, call hospital in the morning).  If we'd had the surgery, would that have put both babies more at risk?  Or all three babies?  Would it have triggered early labor?  Would we have lost them all?  We are already incredibly lucky the loss of Sophia didn't kill or cause Mini more brain damage; we THINK we are in the clear, but there could be very mild learning disorders that won't show-up until grade school. 

I am not sure about my belief about g-d, a creator, spirituality, but I am thankful, in a way, that I never had to make any of those choices.  Please don't misunderstand, I am not and will never be glad that Sophia died, but in some way I feel as if a higher power took my choice from me.  I am not saying that I believe g-d lets some children live, or some die, or some women miscarry, or let others have their babies because it is right and proper, or because that is "g-d's will."  I just have this idea, in this particular instance, that the higher power, or God, or G-d, or God, or Allah, or whomever, determined my future in such a way that a part of me is thankful I didn't have to agonize in hindsight over a decision I made, whether it would have been the right one.  Don't get me wrong, I do have some regrets, such as not visiting the special specialist sooner (even though we really weren't a candidate for him yet), or if we should have done amniocentisis before waiting out the beginnings of the TTTS (even though if we did need to have surgery later, it would have made it more risky, or even contraindicated it).  I just know what happened, happened, and I can't play that "what if..." game.  Is it worth missing Sophia in order to have two healthy and "whole" children?  I have no idea.  I didn't have to decide.

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On another note, is anyone missing Getupgrrl to pieces?  Anyone else still check her blog daily to see if she has finally posted something about her life with her "new" baby?  Anyone in angst and want her back?  If you don't know who I'm talking about, where the hell have you been and check the Chez Miscarriage link to the right.  Otherwise, please, beg her with me to come back.

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Anyone else read Dooce and hate her because she's skinny and has great clothes, and also because she's so damn funny why do I even bother writing a blog?  Anyone else tear-up and go all misty-eyed at her monthly newsletters to Leta.  Oi, why do I bother writing at all? 

That's all for tonight, I think.  I've got to do the dishes and throw away that rank sponge.  Ugh... 

Not Only a Sweaty Ass, Apparently a Wide Ass Too

Yesterday a woman at work informed me that my ass is getting wide.  Umm...  Er... Thanks?  I didn't hesitate, didn't even slow my walk, just looked back with half turned head and thanked her.  I wonder if she got the point. 

This is the same woman who, months ago, said something in front of me about Star Jones' "faggot" husband.  At first, I laughed incredulously, a short bark, expecting her to realize in front of whom she was speaking.  When it didn't register I said something like, "wow, I can't believe you just used that word.  That word is really inappropriate and offensive."  Guess to whom I was talking?  An African-American female who grew-up in the south during the height of the civil rights movement.  Guess what she said to me (defensively)?  "Well, it's my word, I can use any word I want."  So I replied, "Well, xxx, there are many words I can use, but choose not to, as they are inappropriate and offensive."  Umm... can we all think of the word to which I might have been referring?  I think we can.  And she had nothing further to say to that, so I cooly yet politely kept my distance.  A couple of days after that incident, she apologized for "hurting my feelings."  Here was the problem with that- she really didn't hurt my feelings, I was more upset by the thought that, as one of the last oppressed classes in the United States, people think it is ok to use language about homosexuality as a weapon, when the same people would (with good reason) get up in arms if inappropriate language was used about race.  AND THAT SHE DIDN'T JUST ACCEPT THAT SHE WAS IN THE WRONG AND SAY, "OOPS, I'M SORRY."  People have been FIRED for saying the "n" word at work.  So I was incredulous that she didn't recognize her mistake in using an offensive term and simply apologize for doing so.  It really wasn't about me personally.

So, you can imagine that I considered the source when deciding not to let my feelings get hurt, about the wide "behind" comment.  But it is now another reinforcement to do something about it, that's for sure.

I'll see you at the gym.

This is Where I Tell the Internet How F'd-up and Neurotic I Am

I am ambivalent about the weaning process (hahahahaha, I say that with such assurance that I even have a choice about when to wean).  A very very secret part of me, so secret that I will only share it with the internet, is afraid that when our nursing relationship ends, my daughter will no longer like me. 

There, I said it.  I am afraid the only reason my daughter currently loves me and wants to be held and cared for by me is because I am her sole source of food.

I am counting the days and the means with which I might entice my little one to drink enough milk from a cup such that she no longer needs to nurse.  Honestly, I don't see it happening, and so I tighten the chain around my nursing bra, hoist the ball over my shoulder and soldier on, trying to will myself to nurse until she is ready to cut me loose.  And yet...  when I think about how our relationship will change when she no longer nurses, I am afraid that I will be rejected, that she will turn to someone else when she is tired, or hurt, or just wants to be cuddled. 

So how screwed-up am I?

And because Jody said it so well, and because I wanted a way to work this quote into a post, I will paste part of something she wrote, that really got to me. 

"...I'm dedicated to the idea that children are never responsible for nurturing their parents. The lines of responsibility run wholly and whole-heartedly in the other direction. Forever."

I will tattoo that to the back of my hands, so that I see it everyday.  And remind myself that I am hers to be loved by, it doesn't matter if it goes the other way.

Blogger's Remorse

I was pondering old posts, and decided to review one of my favorites.  I thought it was a really really good post, when I first wrote it.  Reading it now, hmmm, not so much.  Anyone else have that experience?

So, I've thought and thought about my purpose in writing this blog.  I think I began because I felt like I had a story to tell, about my pregnancy, about my delivery, about dealing with the loss of a multiple.  Interesting to me that I don't think I've had one search hit from a person looking for information regarding losing a fetus in utero, or losing a multiple in utero.  Instead, I get people looking for how to make a h*omemad*e sa%ndblas&ter.  Hmmm...  Huh?  If you want to find out how to do that, by the way, check this site.  You won't find the answer here.

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I have a new course of action to lose the baby weight.  I am going to try to work-out at lunch time, the few days a week I work.  I've been avoiding doing this as it means I have to join aNOTHER health club (already have a YMCA membership), but I hope it will be worth it.  Ummm... decreasing food intake is just not an option, ok?  Well, maybe I could cut back a little here or there.  But I will still eat my evening ice cream.  It's no sugar added and reduced fat, that means I can eat more of it, right?

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So, my nanny is an angel.  In fact, I think if she could breastfeed Mini, those two would ride off into the sunset together.  I almost wish she COULD breastfeed Mini.  I'd have her babysit so I could actually go out to dinner and a movie.  Bliss...

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I am killing time here trying to remember the OTHER subject I meant to write about.  Of course, it slipped past this baby-brain of mine.  Come back later, if you care.  I may have edited this by then.