I'm Hiding

James just left for New York, and he left me with 2 fussy babies.  They are all normally asleep at this time in the morning, but today they decided to wake up and cry.  I have been rocking and trying to calm them for 45 minutes or so.  I just gave up, and I came out here to get away from the crying.

Bedtime is the one time of the day that Truman really struggles unless he's sleeping with me.  He's in his swing, and calling for me.  It's hard not to pick him up, but it's also tiresome to always give in and let him have his way.  I'm giving him some time to try to fall asleep on his own, but in 10 more minutes I'll probably just give up.  Should I feel sorry for James when he comes home telling me how tired his is and that he needs a nap?  This is the sob story he told me after his last "business" trip.  You can imagine that I didn't really have much sympathy for how tired he was after he got to sleep in a quiet hotel room.

I hope you have fun out there, but come home well-rested.

My Neighbor Is Crazy!

I had a flat tire about 2 weeks ago.  Both of my parents' cars had flat tires within a week of each other.  Hannah (James's sister who was here helping while James was out of town) had a flat tire just a couple of days ago.  My mom suspected my neighbor was responsible after both of their cars came up with flats.  I didn't think much of it until Hannah strangely got a flat that seemed to coincide with the days she was at the house.  Okay - now I'm fairly certain it's my neighbor, so that just confirms my original suspicion that he's crazy.

It all started several months ago.  My mom and aunt had been over visiting and helping with the kids.  They were preparing to leave, so they walked out the door to start loading their car.  I was upstairs with a twin (can't recall which one) feeding him/her.  Jameson was downstairs with James's mom while my family prepared to leave.  I heard my mom yell for James's mom as she opened the door, and the adrenaline shot through my body.  I figured something happened to Jameson, so I darted down the stairs (baby in hand) to see what had happened.  I see my mom on the ground kicking at a dog who is pulling at her pants trying to get through the front door.  I recognize the dog as my neighbor's fat, lazy bulldog.  I run up to it, kick it out the door, and grab it by the collar.  My neighbor comes running up just then and take his dog back in his house.

After I find out that Jameson, my mom, and everyone else is okay, I see my neighbor outside cleaning his car.  I ask him, "How did he get over here?".  He replies in an aggravated tone, "He was outside with me.  I was washing the car."  I take a moment to wonder what he was doing while his dog left his side, headed toward my house, and attacked my mom - and I still beat him to the scene.  He must have sensed that I was mocking him in my head because then he said, "Look, I don't wanna talk about.  It won't happen again."  I respond, "Okay, I just wanted to make sure because my two-year-old is out here."  I sense his aggravation escalating, and he says, "Your dog is always running over here, and you never do anything."  I think 'This is true, but we haven't had dogs for more than 6 months'.  I tell him he's right, but that is also one of the reasons we did not keep our dogs.  He does not like that I have shot a hole in his argument.  He gives me a dirty look, an annoyed grumble, and returns to whatever he was doing - cleaning his car as he claimed.

We have not spoken or waved to each other since that day.  I will continue to lose no sleep over this issue, but we may lose a few more tires.

The Long and Winding Post

When I write, I generally like to have an idea where I'm going to begin and end.  This time, I just don't know; however, it's all about the kids.  James has been making comments about how inconsistently I post, so I thought I better get another one in so I can take off another couple of weeks.

My babies are all growing up so fast.  Jameson is turning 3 in just a few months, and he is just funny.  I never know what the next crazy thing is that will come out of his mouth.  Take today, for example, he had just come home from the store with my mom and dad.  He noticed one of a couple of neighbor kids in our yard and he tells my mom, "I'm really mad. Who's in my grass? I better go find out what they want.".  My mom, of course, told him it was okay, and he couldn't just go around picking fights.  She used to tell me the same thing.  Apparently, it doesn't work.

James has also been on my case recently for "playing ha-ya" with JJ.  He came home the first time he went to see Kung Fu Panda all geared up to show off his moves.  I played along, at first, and now all he wants to do is "play ha-ya", which really just means he wants to run at you like he's going to karate chop you and have you catch him.  As with most things, JJ has carried it too far and started kicking and punching harder and harder, so now we're trying to break him of this "game".  Amanda's got a good action shot of this game on her blog.

He's been going to "school" now for about 3 months, and HE LOVES IT!  James and I love it too, except for the fact that he brings home every virus circulating.  James likes to tell me that I should just move in to the doctor's office.  We recently got over strep throat then croup - tons of fun.  Strangely, I'm getting used to having sick kids, so it's not stressing me out quite as much.  The doctor also likes to reassure me that it's good for them since it helps build their immune system.  Although I'll assure you that it's not doing much good for my sleeping.

Illnesses excepted, school has far surpassed my expectations.  Originally, I wasn't really sure if I was comfortable with the whole idea of group care, but seeing him have so much fun has helped convince me that we made the right choice.  He's going 3 days per week, and he can't get out the door fast enough on school days.  He talks about his "friends", especially Gabrielle, who is, according to his teacher, his "best bud".  She says sometimes they walk around playing games and holding hands - which I think is so cute.  His class is always doing some type of craft or project that they later send home, so it's nice to collect these little mementos.  I am a memento hoarder after all (I still have corsages from my high school dances).

Here's a picture of my maniac "getting his horns" and giving you his mean face.

Speaking of maniacs, I have two of them on my hands.  Amelia is the other.  This girl's smile just melts me, but she is just as high maintenance as JJ is and was.  A few nights ago, she was tired, and I had just gotten home after karate.  She was crying when I got home, and she was so excited to see me.  I picked her up, and started getting things ready for her shower.  I asked James for a hand.  As soon as I hand her back to him, she throws her arms down, lets out an angry scream, and starts crying.  We both just cracked up because it's very typical of her hot-n-cold personality.

She has taken to saying "da-da", and has been saying "mom" when she's desperate for me to pick her up or feed her.  She mostly like to scream and screech, and her specialty is pulling hair.  She is very close to crawling, but her waddle scoot seems to work pretty well for her.  Here she is as she wakes up most mornings - in a good mood.  Usually, within the hour, she's unhappy and crying about something.

Here is my happy baby.  I can genuinely say that Truman is an easy baby, and some days it's the only thing that saves us a lot of headaches.  He's always so happy, and he gives the biggest smiles.  Here's one of them.

James has finally accepted that Truman says "mama".  After weeks of denial, he finally cracked after he had to suffer through trying to feed him baby food while I was out as Truman cried, "mama".  He is beginning to say "dada", but his favorite is really just "blah, blah, blah" - no, not just any gibberish but "blah, blah, blah".

Truman may be easier during the day, but, oddly, he's the tougher baby in the middle of the night.  This is the one time when there is no substitute for momma.  I'm afraid I may be creating another bedtime beast like JJ, but I can't help myself.  When they cry, I crack.

Here's a couple of of twin pictures, so you can see this pair in action.  I get to see the twin connection every day, but it's much harder to share it through pictures.  We're having a great time just watching them grow together, and I love that they always have a playmate.  The twin connection goes farther than that though.  I'm not even sure I understand it, but I can see it when they are together.  It's very sweet.

Here's one last JJ picture.  I think it's all I have time for tonight.  I'm taking a risk that a baby wakes up, and I haven't even showered yet.  

Here's Jameson's newest favorite - the computer.  He knows all about Nick Jr.'s website since I've taken him to it since he was little.  Well, for the longest time, he would tell me how he wanted to watch cartoons on my computer anytime he saw me working on it.  Sometimes I would agree, but usually I would tell him that my computer is for work not play.  He never liked this answer.  Well, James took care of that for me by teaching him to use the computer himself.  This weekend he was playing games and watching videos on Nick Jr.

Don't leave me waiting here, lead me to your blog . . . (I know, bad joke, but couldn't help myself)

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.