Life's Too Short

Just before the twins were born, I was scrambling to make arrangements to find any extra help I could to get through the first  6 - 12 weeks.  If you've ever had a baby, you know what I'm talking about.  If you haven't, then just wait.  Based on my experience with Jameson, I knew it was going to be hard, but I had NO IDEA what to expect with twins.  I did know for certain though that our household chores would be the first to suffer.

I like to be self-sufficient, and I do not like to ask for help even when I really need it.  At first, this time was no exception.  My mom's constant nagging about getting help finally made me cave.  I came to the realization that I should get help for the sake of my sanity.  She did her part by planning to have one of my aunts in town for the first two weeks.  My mom, as always, planned to be around as much as possible, but I think she did not want the stress of feeling like she had to shoulder this burden by herself.

My father's secretary (Maria), who has grown to become more of a family friend, volunteered herself and offered to bring her niece Rosita from Mexico to help (and study English).  At first, I wondered if maybe I had too much help.  I have since learned that it's not possible to have too much help when it comes to children.

The first few weeks after the twins were born seemed so much easier than they were following Jameson's birth because I had so much help during the day.  After the first two weeks, my aunt went home, and I felt the loss of an extra set of hands.  In the months that followed, Rosita helped us at home with cleaning and laundry.  Rosita went home in April, and I crossed my fingers that we would keep the house as clean and orderly as she had.

I have not, but I don't care anymore.  It's clean enough.  Even better, Maria now volunteers to come out and help me every weekend.  I insist that she take some money, but she would do it for free.  She shows up every Saturday morning, vacuums the entire house, mops the floors, cleans the bathrooms, dusts, washes dishes, straightens up, and does anything else that needs attention.  When she leaves I love to walk through the house and just feel relieved that the house is clean (and I had nothing to do with it).

I used to feel good about trying to do it all ourselves.  Yet, in hindsight, I now realize that I was giving up family time for cleaning time.  Paying for a clean house seems like a small price to pay for more time with James & the kids.  This Saturday we went shopping and came home to a clean house.  God bless Maria. . . and my mom for making me realize that it's okay to lose the pride and take the help.

I'm a Stinker

This is one of Jameson's favorite things to say.  He picked it up from watching Bugs Bunny, so he has a good idea what it means.  He loves to push my buttons and everybody else's.

It's no wonder he is the way he is.  He gets it from me.  Sometimes I do it on purpose (I know - not nice), but sometimes it's almost like instinct.  I get it from my grandfather.  My mom and my aunts often tell me how my grandfather is the most difficult and exasperating person they know.  It's funny, but they all share pieces of his personality.  I think it's just always easier to say, "He's difficult".  He is, but they aren't exactly shrinking violets.  If you know my mother, you know what I mean.

By now, you may be wondering, 'why would I care?'.  You don't.  This post is for the benefit of my husband.  This is his Father's Day gift - just a little insight into what I thought he already knew about me.  Maybe he did and he forgot.  Here's a refresher, James, on Julie 101.

I am a very passionate person about anything that is important to me.  I know sometimes the  things I get worked up about seem dumb to you, but they have significance to me.  Sometimes the reasons I do things are so convoluted, I don't have the patience to explain them.  Just trust me that if I'm really in support of something, I have my reasons.

I am not laid back.  That's your job, and you're good at it.  One of us has to be.  If not, we'd probably be calling 911 for diaper rash.  One of us must persevere, and one of us must know when to quit.

Yet, I am certain despite all my nagging and ranting, you admire those things in me that you sometimes you wish were in you.  For me, the same is true (minus the nagging & ranting part).  Sometimes, I wish I were laid back, and I didn't get so frustrated with the madness of the 3 under 3 household.  Alas, I am who I am.  Each day I try to better myself, but at some point, "my little stinker" will just light a fire under me.

If one of us is the dreamer, then the other must be the doer.  When I am the blind believer, you are the pragmatic.  It seems so appropriate now that we had twins, who incidentally, are polar opposites.  I see us in them, and despite their differences, they still enjoy each other's company.

Happy Father's Day!   

You didn't really think I would be on-time, did you?

Getting the Babies to Sleep . . . Sure

I'm not really a napper (unless I'm pregnant), so I don't really take kindly to napping.  James has a habit of staying up way too late wasting time online or working on a new project he probably will not finish when he should be in bed.  He often complains how tired he is, and he usually blames it on poor sleep quality.  I normally blame it on poor bedtime habits.  It's a discussion we have often.

So . . . you can imagine that when I find him napping or suspect he has fallen asleep following one of his late night blogging sessions, I am usually a little aggravated.  Well, on this particular afternoon, he had gone upstairs to "get the babies to sleep", and he was gone for quite a while.  After about 45 minutes, I began to suspect he had fallen asleep, so I was going to wake him up to help me with cleaning.  

Here is what I saw as I opened the door to the babies' room.

I was ready to be mad, but I could not stop laughing.

All Alone . . . and Sick

James is stuck at Newark Airport, and I'm at home alone with 3 little ones - sick ones at that.

Yup, out of the blue today, Jameson spiked a fever.  I, as usual, ran him to the doctor to have the ears and throat checked.  Both clear, but I'm still keeping an eye out.  He was still running a fever by bedtime, so I can look forward to little sleep.  Now, I'm just waiting for the babies to catch up with him.

James is out of own all week for work, so I'm relying on my mom and his mom and sisters to help me as they can.  I'm not really nervous about being alone a whole week so much as being alone with sick kids.  When it comes to sick kids, saying that I'm paranoid is probably an understatement.  I start imagining all kinds of scenarios, and I completely over-think things.

For instance, tonight Jameson gets up from my bed which he laid in for a while following his shower and says, "My neck hurts.".  As soon as he says this I'm already wondering if meningitis is a possibility.  Yes, it is, but I know it's far more likely it's just some other virus.  I wait a few minutes and ask him if his neck still hurts.  He tells me it doesn't, but he's already planted the thought in my head.  James isn't here to tell me I'm crazy, so I try to keep my imagination in check.

Wish me luck.  We miss you, Dad.