A plan so cunning...

You could put a tail on it and call it a weasel.

Yes. I have a plan.

We have a plan.

Contrary to my previous entry that left you with the sneaking suspicion that I was sailing over the edge into Permanent Self Injury Land, I'm not that far gone. Just so you know I'm not that far gone: I still have a sense of humor left. It's when I lose all sense of humor that I know I'm in deep trouble. Ask Eric. During the worst times in my life that he has witnessed, I find nothing even remotely funny and trying to make me laugh just makes me mad. I know I'm going to be OK if I can laugh at myself or the situation. Just two days after making a concerted effort to get more sleep and I do, actually, feel better.

Not perfect, but better.

I recognize big, fat, red waving flags, even when they're in my own head. And then I act on them.

I have to type fast, since Logan just fell asleep so it's officially time to get some sleep and not stay up reading and cleaning. Or just reading and eating.

That being said, I had a big talk with Eric earlier while nursing Emma. The plan is to:

1. Get to bed early every night by about 9:30 pm or when my dinner is finished.
2. Try to tandem nurse again. Hopefully the double vomiting issue is finished now. Tandem nursing will hopefully mean time spent nursing is cut in half.
3. Accept any offers from those that want to come over and either hold babies while we clean or would like to bring/cook dinner. (Or offer cleaning services. Totally OK with that.) Right now our toughest times are from 4-8:30 pm which is dinner, twin cluster nursing, Caitlin homework time and getting boundary pushers to bed.
4. Get Caitlin's homework done on weekends and not weekdays. Caitlin has discovered that she can get Eric's complete and undivided attention by being, or pretending to be, completely miserable at math homework. I don't think it's her strongest subject, but I don't think it's actually this tough for her either.
5. Learn how to make dinner in the crockpot. Got any good recipes? I don't know any.

If you're wondering why See a Therapist isn't on the list, the answer is simple: money and insurance. Our insurance is Catastrophic only (at the moment) and wouldn't pay for anything, anyway. And since we currently have Out-Go and no Income, we can't afford it. I will have to reuse what I learned last time.

Ooh! Yes, there was a last time. That's when I had rockin' insurance and took advantage of it. Wasn't related to PPD, though.

As the weather warms up and there's more sunshine, I always feel better. I can get out more during the day and walk with the twins. Being physically active helped me a lot last time. I also have a lot of different personal goals related to building a business I love, which I didn't have last time. Making plants is a passion and one that makes me feel better all of the time. Just the smell of moist soil will lift my spirits.

I know, sounds weird, huh?

I am not going to hurt myself or those around me, even though I thought about it. Just so you know: I never touched the scissors. Also, since I have this ridiculously vivid imagination, I always follow those sorts of thoughts to their logical conclusion and never like the image of blood, hospitals and weeping husband and children left behind. There's no fantasy of how everything will be better if I'm dead or how everyone would just be better off if I didn't exist. It may very well be egotistical to say this, but the world would be a worse place without me in it.

Less scones, for instance. And who would photograph the children?!

I'm not going to do that to myself because I've got plans and because I am not going to tear my family apart.

My life has looked far worse at different points, so I can feel the difference in where I am now and where I was last time. I feel like I'm close to the hole, not actually in it, if you see depression as a large, dark hole in the ground.

This is me, seeing the hole and recognizing it and walking around and away from it.

These feelings are temporary.

This sleep deprivation is temporary.

This anger is temporary.

Caitlin is going through a phase.

The twins will eventually both sleep through the night.

I'm going to kick some plant selling ass at the Market this summer and I'm going to build a business I love with a friend I love.

And I am going to write and write and write about it.

2008 is going to be known as the Year of The Hatchet. Just you wait.

Messy but cute

Logan is drinking trying to drink water out of my glass.

He wants nothing to do with bottles of milk, but he wants my water.

Looks like we might have to consider moving up the introduction of solid food.

Of course, he also wants to eat this computer, not that that means anything.

P.S. Please leave any and all recommendations, hints or tips for bottle training, sippy or cup training for that matter, in the comments section. Getting desperate over here.

Uh, but you knew that.

Sick and Psycho

I love alliterative post titles, don't you? I was tempted to misspell it to get them to "match", but I can't make myself do that. Frustrated English major deep inside, you know.

This was the weekend from Hell and I do not say that lightly.

It started off badly on Friday when I made the huge mistake of having two mugs of chai: one in the morning and then one around 3pm. The first one ensured neither twin would nap during the day. In my stupidity (and because it tasted so good) I had the second which then ensured that neither would sleep through the night. Or anywhere close to it.

The twins, when they finally passed out from exhaustion around 10, woke up at 11:30, 1:30, 3ish, 4-oh-my-god-I-can't-focus-my-eyes something, then 6:30 and then 7 something. Otherwise known as "We might as well get up" time.

Yes. I did this to myself. Yes. It is all my fault. But here's the thing to keep in mind that will put everything into perspective:

I haven't had 6-8 hours of sleep since last May.

Do you know what that does to a person? Well, I can't answer for the rest of you, but it makes me psychotically angry. I get angry at the drop of a hat. It has been building for months. On Saturday morning, I went to get a nail file out of the drawer and noticed my scissors. My shiny, sharp, hair cutting scissors. They suddenly looked really good.

And I don't mean in a hair cutting sort of way.

I had a sudden flash - an actual desire - to eviscerate myself*.

It was at that moment that I turned around and went back into the bedroom to announce to Eric that he couldn't leave me alone with the twins today, as we had originally planned and that I needed to go with him. Then I told him why.

Then we got ready and Tra-la-la-la-la! headed off to the Girls in Sports conference the Girl Scouts were having.

Caitlin is pushing me and working on defining her boundaries and all of that jazz that is perfectly normal (so I've been told) in 6.5 year olds. The problem is that her boundary pushing is coming at the same exact time that we have twins who don't sleep through the night. This is Not Good. You might even say that this is a Bad Situation.

Eric spent the day being sick. Turns out that whatever Heather had that she gave to Emma, Emma gave it to Eric (probably via vomit) and then Eric gave it to me. On Sunday. Fortunately for all involved, it only lasted 24 hours. Eric got his day to be miserable and I got mine.

Nothing says Motherhood like throwing up into a basin held over the head of your nursing son.

You're welcome!

Parenting Without Pulling Punches. Maybe I should change my subtitle?

So. I spent Saturday night starting at 9:30 in bed. No reading, no writing, no nothing. Most especially no chai. Trying to sleep. Waking to nurse whomever was awake and then immediately putting them back down to sleep. It was still broken sleep, but better than the night before. And the night before that. And the one before that.

You get the picture.

The problem is that I spend the entire day nursing, changing, bouncing and entertaining the twins. Add to that the frustration that is a 6.5 year old that has to argue over everything: every word used incorrectly, every topic of conversation, everything you ask her to do. Night time, when Caitlin is finally in bed and the insanity that is the 4 pm to 8:30 pm time period is over, should be my time. My time to unwind.

Yes, "sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care" and yadda yadda yadda [Insert your favorite Shakespearean quote about sleep here] is fabulous. But I'd like some time to myself where no one needs or wants anything of me and no one is touching me. A time when I can think my own thoughts without being constantly interrupted by wee small people with urgent needs. Maybe even some time to get some work done for the upcoming Market season.

You see? I have a problem.

Caitlin, who gets 8 or more hours of sleep per night and gets to spend 6.5 hours out of the house, with her peers, doing things completely unrelated to babies and nursing has it easy. Even with all the yelling going on.

So maybe the person you should be worried about isn't Caitlin.

Maybe the person you should be worried about

Is me.





* Me. Just me. Only me. No desire to hurt the under 7 set. Or Eric, either. And after 2 days of actually working at getting some sleep, I feel a bit better. Last night, however, the twins woke every two hours. We seem to be experiencing a growth spurt.

No rest for the wicked.

C is for Cookie

This for everyone that needs something nice on a Monday.

Go see NPR: On Air: Cookie Monster.

From NPR. Thanks to Alessa.

The Sloganizer

Yes. Yes I am.

Most likely.

More appropriate than they'll ever know. Currently? Logan.

Get more here.

--Hat tip to The Bloggess.

Photos have been added to Nineteen Weeks.

Always Respect the Claws

Valerie lost her kitty, Ozzy, to cancer last week. Last night she wrote a Speaking for him. Essentially a eulogy. If you've ever loved and lost a pet, especially a cat, you should go read it.

Rules of Ozzie:

- I can touch you, you can't touch me.
- I can come up to you and sniff and put my paw on you and sit up so I can get very close to you..... but that still doesn't mean you can pet me.
- If you don't follow this rule I will hiss. At the very least.
- If you show any fear I may swipe at you as you walk by me.

You might need a few tissues. I'm just sayin'....

I'm still a little haunted by Pixel, but in a good way (For more about Pixel, just search my blog for his name. There are many stories. Bring tissues.). Each loss leaves a little hole in your heart. Each kitty seems to ghost through the house for up to a year after their death. Are they tiny furred ghosts or are they just really loud memories? I don't think you can live with anyone for 16 years and not see them walking through your days for ages after they are officially gone.

Can you?

I don't generally believe in ghosts, but kitties seem to be different. Then again, other than my immediate family and Eric, I've never lived as long with anyone that has died other than my cats. Their deaths always feel a lot more real than that of the humans in my life that have died.

That's pretty weird, isn't it?

Nineteen Weeks

Emma set two records today. Largest number of clothing changes in a single day: 7. Most baths in one day: 3.

It started off simply enough, she spit up on herself a little this morning. Not wanting to smell her for the rest of the day, I changed her outfit. Then there was a massive diaper blowout which necessitated a bath and change. After that, another small spit up, but larger than the first one. Then a big one, into my lap. The one after that was all over Eric, leaving him needing a shower as well as her. Then another, which wasn't too bad but needed a clothing change. She finally fell asleep around 10pm, but the threw up on herself while sleeping and needed a bath. And finally (?) just now, down my shirt as I started this entry. Which left me needing a bath and Emma wearing yet another set of clothes.

Emma says, "Bleaaargh!"

I share because I love!

Actually, it has been fairly vomit free in these here parts for more than a week, so I wonder if something is up? She isn't running a fever and is as happy as ever, but I wonder if she managed to pick up a stomach bug from Heather? I only suggest that because Heather was tossing her cookies today and had been over yesterday, snuggling babies. Hmm....

Anyway!

The twins are doing all sorts of cute things these days, although sleeping through the night has not been one of them. They've both been waking up at 3 or 4 am, which leads to insanity. Mine.

Zzzzzz!

Instead, there has been an increasing amount of laughter on Logan's part, especially when we swing him up into the air over our heads. This also doubles as exercise since they are essentially Military Presses with Infant. Fourteen pounds doesn't sound like a lot, but it adds up quickly because every time I stop, he cries. So I have to keep on going until he's willing to stop. It takes a lot of Presses for him to be tired of them!

Daddy is funny!

Logan's skin has healed up very nicely from the eczema (Mentioned here when treatment with new super strength cortisone started and the first time here.). As a matter of fact, that stuff worked like a charm! His skin is perfect! Soft as...baby skin should be. Emma is great, too, but she never went on to the heavy duty stuff. We just slathered her down with regular lotion about 4 times a day. It's so much nicer and they aren't ripping at their skin any longer. As a bonus, the weird red spot on the back of Logan's head has cleared up through repeated applications of the cortisone and he's no longer trying to scratch while falling asleep. Yay!

I feel so much better!

Emma started flipping over the easy way last Thursday (week 18). She startled herself the very first time she did it, in the crib, while I was folding laundry next to her. This means, of course, that she's completely unsafe to leave anywhere but the floor or a crib. She's a tiny tumbleweed. Logan still hasn't figured out how to flip over the hard way, but I have faith that he'll figure it out.

Emma's latest cool new trick? Crawling backwards.

Or scooting. Whatever you want to call it, she starts out here and ends up over there, very frustrated since the toy has gotten farther away from her reach. Do you know what this means?!

It means crawling is just around the corner.

Time lapse spinning. Photos taken every 30 seconds. Crawling not too far away. Eek!

I'm done! Pick me up!

Caitlin started out the same way: backwards for a couple of weeks and then forwards. I guess we'd better get the house back into baby-safe mode! Logan is gonna be jealous!

The milestone I don't think I'll ever forget, though was Babies First Caucus. How cool! It was there that I also discovered that Logan likes crowds while Emma doesn't. We were surrounded by folks and while Logan was busy flirting with anyone that smiled at him, Emma was getting overwhelmed by all of the folks trying to smile at her. I had noticed that at the doctor's office, but thought it was a fluke. Guess not!

Something interesting: a lady from the Market gave birth to a girl the day before we had the twins. I ran into her last weekend (Oof!) and noticed that her daughter's eyes are in the process of changing from blue to brown, while Logan's are still vibrantly blue. I guess those baby blues are here to stay. It's always fun having to explain Mendelian inheritance to the general public when they start looking at me funny again (Both Eric and I have brown eyes. Although mine are starting to look greenish. Weird!). So now we have green, blue and brown-eyed children. Fun!

Little Blue Eyed Boy.

Both Emma and Logan are starting to take interest in whatever I'm eating. They aren't at the grabbing-my-food stage, yet, but when they get there we'll be ready. For that matter, we've decided to make out own babyfood this time. Firstly because it will be cheaper, but also because both Misty and Swistle made it look easy. Which led me to this site.

Chomp!

But now it is very late (or extremely early: 1 am) and I must attempt sleep.

Photos tomorrow.

Why is it called Being Fresh when she acts so Spoiled?

The day started off with a bang. Caitlin told Eric that she doesn't like him any more. I already know how she currently feels about me and it ain't pretty. Unfortunately for her, the feeling is getting to be mutual.

Eric's betrayal? He made her go to school. On a school day. He's a right bastard, he is. She even refused to get out of the car, which didn't go over well, let me tell you!

Tonight she was hollered at about homework, harrassing us about dinner (There's only so many times I really need to hear you announce that you're staaaaarving! Once. Maybe twice if I didn't acknowledge your imminent death, but no more than that.), taking a bath, teeth brushing, getting ready for bed, and backtalk. I lost it at the backtalk which occurred while she was supposed to be putting on PJs. Then there was the single swat, the demand that she get in bed right now through gritted teeth and the loss of any and all playdates for at least a week. Tomorrow I will clean all of her toys and books out of her room and put them into the garage.

Let's be clear on this: I know she's "only" 6.5 years old and I do not expect her to be perfectly behaved, but it shouldn't take getting yelled at

Every.

Single.

Night.

To eat dinner like a civilized person, do her homework, take a bath, brush her teeth and get ready for bed. She has had to do this same exact sequence of events all of her life (some items, like homework are admittedly new) and it should never be a surprise to her that behavior that got her in trouble yesterday is getting her in trouble again today.

I don't care how bright she is. This behavior is unacceptable. She won't make it to seven at this rate.

And I'm tired of playing the Bad Cop to Eric's Good Cop.

And if the twins act like this when they turn six? I'm running away from home.

Logan says...

Logan, a member in good standing of the No Down Babies Movement, had this to say today:

Waaaaaaah!

Translated for your edification: No want!

Sez me: Milk?
Logan: No want!
Me: Rocking in chair?
Logan: No want!
Me: Swinging in car seat?
Logan: No want!
An increasingly frazzled me: Cuddling while sitting?
Logan: No want! What's the matter with you?!
Grasping at any straw me: Jiggle while swaying?
Logan: Nuh...! Oh. Okaaaa-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Emma, from the other room: And I don't like this swing eitherrrr-zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Veni, vidi, vici!

The entire family went down to caucus.

The entire neighborhood came, too.

The precinct captain said that four years ago he was the only person in our precinct that showed. That's because last time, we didn't get to vote until long after the winner had been picked. This year, Colorado got moved up into Super Tuesday and we got to make a difference. Everyone that could turned up to caucus.

I think I was the only woman there with twins, though.

It was dark and very cold and I was kicking myself for not having brought hats for the twins. I was once again very grateful for the snuggly winter wraps that Grammy gave them. Lacking hats, I draped my fuzzy gloves over their heads. Logan slept for quite awhile, while Emma stayed awake to charm the people around us. The line just to get into the building was fairly long, fortunately it was moving fast. I hadn't even thought about having to stand in line. Eric and Caitlin parked the car and then had to hike in.

There were hundreds, if not thousands, of people there. All ready to vote. After a few two minute speeches to represent the candidates with big cheers for Kucinich, Clinton, Obama (<-- Received loudest cheer. I'm just sayin'.) and Edwards, we split up into our requisite precincts, went to our separate rooms and then got down to business.

Out of the 71 eligible voters in the room (there were far more than 71 people in the room), 49 were for Obama and 22 for Clinton.

Eric stepped up to be a delegate and was chosen as an alternate. He was a little bummed since he wanted to be a main delegate, but still excited to go.

Turns out that his mom, his sister and Jim are also stepping up to be delegates in their respective towns. Go Family!

Caitlin and the twins were very well behaved and all and sundry ooh'd and aah'd over the twins. Emma and Logan were very excited to be there, but saddened when told they had to wait another 17 years and 8 months before they could get a chance to vote. Them's the breaks.

I've gotta tell ya, though: those were some excited people. Moving our primary up to give us a chance to vote and make a difference has all of us really jazzed. The next natural step, to me, is to create a national caucus day. That way, instead of spending weeks watching the candidates dribble away, everyone across the nation would get a chance to vote for their first choice.

And it needs to be moved to a weekend.

So! Did you get to caucus today?

VOTE: Caucus Tomorrow!

Tomorrow is Super Tuesday. Do you know where your polling place is?

No? Well, follow this link: Vote411.org.

Then, tomorrow, go and vote in the primary.

Because it's important. Because voting is the single most important thing we can do, on the individual level, in politics in this or any nation. Vote for who you want, not for the person you think everyone else wants. The primary is your chance to take a stand, instead of voting for the person chosen for you, choose yourself. I will be.

The twins will be right there with us.

Colorado will finally get a chance to make a difference instead of not mattering at all. Last time, the primary winner had already been selected by the time CO got to cast a single primary vote. Realistically, kinda makes it pointless to caucus then, doesn't it? This time, however, we're going to be in there with 21 other states and I want my vote to be counted.

You should, too.

Why? Because everything is political.

If you haven't noticed, the price you pay at the pump? Politics are involved to determine those prices: high or low. Who receives subsidies and who doesn't? That air you breathe and water you drink? Politics are involved to determine how many pollutant parts per million are allowed to be in it. That meat you like to eat? Politics determines the fact that less than 1% of all cattle raised in the US is ever tested for Mad Cow Disease. Those vegetables you eat? Politics are involved in allowing genetically modified crops to be produced and used in the foods you buy. Like organic food? Politics are involved in determining the very definition of organic. You don't think cloned animals or veggies raised in sludge (treated human waste) should be called "organic"? Then guess what?

Get out and vote.

There's a lot more at stake than you probably realize.

Eric says...

We were discussing baking issues at high altitude, when Eric said:

"That's why, if you had an unlimited budget and you were tired of having to make adjustments all the time, you could get a hyperbolic chamber to cook in. It would be great!" Stops to think of all the time he would save.

"You mean hyperbaric. If it were a hyberbolic chamber, it would be the Best! Chamber! Ever! You would never want to leave! It would be so FABULOUS! Wow!"

At this, Eric and Caitlin cracked up. Eric might have even blushed a little in embarrassment. Caitlin, who has been reading Calvin and Hobbes, added yet another strange word to her list (Defenestrate! Metropolis! Municipality! Thoroughfare! Serene! Calvin & Hobbes was awesome for improving your vocabulary. I miss those comics.), laughed just to laugh. We explained the difference later.

Yet another reason why it's good to be married to me. Somebody's got to know the difference between hyperbolic and hyperbaric.

At Chez Hatchet, that would be me.

Blueberry Scones

I like tea. A lot.

And do you know what goes oh-so-well with tea? Scones. So you can see, I had to make some on Tuesday. It's not easy to steal a few minutes away from They Who Shall Not Be Put DOWN, Dammit! But every once in awhile they actually fall asleep at the same time, during the day, and stay asleep for juuuuust long enough to get a little something done.

Now I know, you're wondering why didn't I do the laundry or mop the floor or something "useful" like that? Y'know what?

Your priorities are all screwy.

Munchies! Very! Important!

Besides, I have a new cookbook I'm trying to break in. Aaaand! Since I'm breastfeeding, I have caloric leeway that I will never have again! I need many calories to make milk for the twins which means I can eat practically anything and still lose weight. (I'm down 61 lbs so far, I have another 4 to go to return to my starting weight. Whee!) If you think I'm not going to take advantage of that...! Man!

You know *arching my brow invitingly*, I think you'd like these scones, too.

Blueberry Cream Scones
--The New Best Recipe Book

2 c (10 oz) unbleached AP flour
1 tbsp baking powder
3 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
5 tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4" cubes
1/2 c blueberries
1 tsp grated lemon peel
1 c heavy cream

Gather your ingredients while Ye may!

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 425. (In CO, add 25 degrees.)
   
2. Place flour, baking powder, sugar and salt in large bowl or the workbowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Whisk together or process with six 1-second pulses.
3. If making by hand (Hah!), use two knives, a pastry blender, or your fingertips and quickly cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal with a few slightly larger butter lumps. If using a food processor, remove the cover and distribute the butter and grated lemon peel evenly over the dry ingredients. Cover and process with 12 1-second pulses. Transfer dough to a large bowl and and mix in the blueberries (fresh or frozen) by hand.
   
   Mmmm! Butter!
   

   
   
4. Stir in the heavy cream (Mmm!) with a rubber spatula or fork until the dough begins to form, about 30 seconds. (In CO, add a few extra tablespoons. It's dry here.)
   
5. Transfer the dough and all dry flour bits to a countertop and knead the dough by hand just until it comes together into a rough, slightly sticky ball, 5 to 10 seconds.
   
   Not a "ball" of dough at all.
   
   
   For wedges, pat the dough into an 8" round cake pan and then turn out onto countertop.
   
   This was a neat trick: instead of having to roll out the dough, you just squish it into a cake pan and then finesse it a little to get it back out again. It also takes the place of a little kneading.
   
   
   With a sharp knife or bench scraper, cut the scones into 8 wedges. Place the wedges on an ungreased baking sheet.
   
   Logan "helped" me put these in the oven. Little bugger only slept until the end of step 5.
   
   
6. Bake until the scone tops are light brown, 12 to 15 minutes. Cool on a wire rack for at least 10 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Waiting is the hardest part.

Ready to eat! Well, once you get your clotted cream and jam, that is.

I thought these turned out well: incredibly tender, but I have to admit that bottled lemon peel just didn't work for me. Next time I will use fresh grated lemon zest, and possibly up to two teaspoons of it. There wasn't enough lemony flavor in these for my taste. I also brushed the tops with a little more cream and added turbinado* sugar to the tops of half of them to see how I liked that and decided I liked it very well indeed.

You could just eat these out of hand and not add any clotted cream or jam, but really, what's the point of eating cream scones if not to add more cream to them? These are basically a wedge-shaped Cream Delivery Vehicle. Destination: Your hips.

But remember: It's all about the journey, not the destination. And what a journey it is!

These scones aren't very sweet at all, so you can pretend that they're "good for you", what with being homemade and having fruit in it. If you like them a little sweeter, you may want to make a glaze to brush over the whole thing, or just the tops. Or leave them less sweet and eat them with jam and cream. And tea. Don't forget the tea! I like Earl Grey with milk and sugar.

And a little cream.




* My friend Christine (Who introduced me to clotted cream, by the way. Thanks, Xine!) once asked me how many different kinds of sugar I had in the house. It seemed like there was a different one for every recipe. The answer? Umm...six? Granulated, superfine, confectioners', light brown, dark brown and turbinado. Unless you include Splenda. In which case, I have seven. You don't count molasses and corn syrup (light and dark), do you? Do you?

Hatchet SMASH!

Hatchet angry.

No. You not understand.

Hatchet ANGRY!

Hatchet scratched, pinched, bitten, screamed and whined at. Hatchet get NO SLEEP.

Hatchet feel psychotic angerrrrrrr. Raaaaarrrrr!

Hatchet go get blood drawn. Feel infinitismally tiny bit better. Hatchet take babies to doctor to just visit. Doctor and staff fuss. Hatchet small better. Hatchet fall asleep in car (Is OK. Husband driving.) and get tiny nap. Hatchet feel little better.

Hatchet get chocolate doughnut (Is TOO how you spell it, dumb machine!) and tall glass of milk.

Starting to feel human again.

Maybe life not so bad after all.*

Mmmmm! Doughnuts!




* But you better not pinch me no more!

Doctor! Doctor!

Hi! Sorry I'm late, but you know how it is...twins. They suck up all your free time.

Ha! Free time. As if!

Anyway, we took the tiny Cheeky Monkey and Troll Doll babies in for their four month appointment. Many questions had I for our intrepid doctor. Not least of which was a) why is Logan screaming like a nut job? and b) is he OK? He's kinda...small.

Well, to make a long visit short...(Why do you have to wait ~20 between seeing the nurse and seeing the doctor, anyway? Are they getting a verbal summary from the nurse? If that's the case, why don't they just show up 5 minutes after the nurse has taken vitals and get the rundown from you directly? But I, as usual, digress.) the doc thinks that Logan's eczema is making him crazy uncomfortable and thus screamy and recommends a whole whacking lot of prescription strength cortisone 4x/day as well as an anti-histamine, 2x daily. Mmmm mmm! Drugs!

So far? Still screamy. Just the smallest bit less screamy than two days beforehand. Not anything like Ali's screamy, for which I remain utterly grateful. I'm so sorry Ali!

As for his growth, she says he is tracking exactly the same as Emma. The only difference is that on the boy charts he comes up short while Emma is 50th percentile all the way across. They both gained about 33-34 oz since the two month visit.

Data!

Emma:

• Height: 24" 50th
• Weight: 13 lbs 13 oz 50th
• Head: 16 1/4" 50-75th

Logan:

• Height: 23" 3rd
  
• Weight: 13 lbs 9 oz 25th
• Head: 16 1/2" 50th

I have no idea how he can have an average sized head on a 3rd %ile head without looking top heavy, but he doesn't. Look top heavy, that is. His head always looks smaller than Emma's, I don't know why. Must be the cheeks. Must! Squish! Cheeks!

Emma's eczema is much better than Logan's so she just gets slathered with lots of regular lotion at every diaper change. Or almost every diaper change because sometimes I just can't remember to grab the lotion. At this point, I can't remember if I've had conversations with Eric or not out loud. I'll think something or the other, in my head, but then will have to make a conscious decision to say whatever it is out loud because I can't remember whether or not I've already said or asked whatever was on my mind.

I'm not even talking about anything earth shattering, either. Just simple stuff like, "Hey, did I tell you the mail came? You just won a million dollars!" or "Hey, did we move the laundry from the washer to the dryer?" or "Hey, don't we have another kid around here somewhere?"

Short term memory loss: very sad. It's worse when I'm out in public, picking Caitlin up from school. Damned if I can remember if I politely asked whomever I'm standing near (RBMs: Random Blonde Moms, as Eric calls them. He thinks they all look alike. Not you, though. You're cute!) whether they've had a nice day or how are they doing or whatever the "normal" schoolyard chatter usually is. I made a point of saying it out loud and checking in that I hadn't already asked and then forgotten. Whew! Hadn't!

Yes, I'm that weird and tired. I shouldn't be allowed to operate heavy equipment.

Twins: side effects include utter exhaustion. Do not operate heavy machinery. This means you. Yeah, you. I'm lookin' at you, kid! Get outta da car!

Um...where was I?

Yes! Doctor's visit. Fabulous. The twins are fabulous. Strong, perfect health other than the eczema, both totally within "normal" parameters for height, even if I'm kinda fretting over Mr. Third Percentile. Considering the amount of times he nurses, one would think he'd gain more weight. I'm telling you, smiling must burn an awful lot of calories!

They got their second set of shots and again I split the 4 shots into two different visits because I'm paranoid like that I and I like to spend more money. Ehn, money. I'd rather spend it on important stuff. Who needs new shoes, anyway? (Me! That's who! Dang!)

No teeth were visible to the doc, so either I was completely wrong about potential early teething signs or...I don't know what. Grumpy babies. Caitlin didn't teethe until 12 months, but she's only one data point. We'll see. Oh yes, we shall! And I'm certain that when we do there will be crying and screaming and gnashing of baby teeth on my poor nipples. Yeah, we know how that goes around here!

Four months? How'd we get here so fast, anyway?

E is for Excellent

And exciting. And a little embarrassed. Ooh and enticing.

Kim, from I Shutter to Think (Cute name, by the way!), just awarded me this:


Oh, stop laughing! I am too excellent! On occasion! You...! Well, I like it!

Dude! She said I was enticing! How cool is that?!

If you're sitting where I'm sitting (In the dining room with Emma in my lap. I don't think we can all fit, though.), that is very cool indeed!

Thanks Kim!

Downed Cows and School Lunches

Do you know what a "downed" cow is? It's a cow that is too sick or injured to stand up on its own. It is also a sign of Mad Cow Disease.

This is not beef you want to eat.

But your children are, if they're eating school lunches.

There are plenty of things already wrong with lunch at school, not least of which is the fact that most of it is in essence fast food (ex. Pepperoni or Cheese Pizza, Macaroni and Cheese, French Toast Sticks, Pizza Hot Pockets, Cheeseburger are 5 days worth of lunch being served at Caitlin's school). Add to that the presence of meat from downed cows and the lunch served at school is becoming downright dangerous.

The following is a video taken by the Humane Society at a slaughterhouse (No butchering shown, I promise.) where they are abusing the animals in order to get them to stand up in time for inspection. This way they will be passed and added in to the food stream.

The one from which you and I stand downstream.

Watch it.

So what now?

Now it is time to find an ethical source of natural beef for us at Chez Hatchet. We've been talking about buying a 1/4 cow for a long time and it (plus the twins coming) is what motivated the freezer purchase. This news seals the deal. That amount of beef will cover us for a year or longer and will be worth from the peace of mind.

Today, I actually met a rancher at a Market event and got her literature (Too bad she didn't bring any samples!). I also met the natural chicken guy and he gave me a free sample. He, too, told me a few things about conventional chicken production that are making me think I'll be stocking my freezer with his chickens as well.

While some might suggest we could just go the vegetarian route, I'm afraid I'm too much of a foodie and carnivore for that to be realistic. My argument though, is that I shouldn't have to be worried about my food supply. This is the 21st century. Mad Cow Disease, e-coli and salmonella outbreaks shouldn't even be an issue, but with the slashing of USDA and OSHA inspection budgets and staff, this is what you get (If you haven't read Fast Food Nation yet, I strongly recommend that you do.). Meat producers are out to make money and will do it however they can and damn the costs to society as a whole.

I am doing what I can to keep my family healthy, even when it costs a little more. I don't want to live to regret doing otherwise.

See The Humane Society for more about the video.

What you can do about it:
Demand the USDA ban downed cows from the food stream.

Caitlin says...

Caitlin to Eric, on the way to school:

"Logan's making a grumpy face. I think he's plotting against us."

Ruh-roh!

Clothing Makes the Child

I have to tell you, we've been very lucky on the clothing front: friends and family have been very generous to us. Verrrrrrrry generous.

Grammy keeps us in all the latest Zutano baby fashions, but it is the clothing loaned to us by my sister-in-law Jenni and my friend Val that I'm here to tell you about.

Check this out:
This is the pile of clothes that we have just packed up. The 0-3 month set. Do you see those 3 piles? On the left is the pile from Val, who had twin boys. On the right is my pile, from when Caitlin was an infant. In the middle is the pile from Jenni (my SIL). She had two boys, 3 years apart and her pile is larger than that which came from Ed and Val. Is she a clothes horse or what?!

Those were some well decked out boys, I tell ya!

Here is the pile for 3-6 months:


The pile on the left is boy clothing (blue, blue, blue, more blue and a smidge of red), while the one on the right is everything that can be called girl clothes or is non-blue. Note that the right-hand pile is much smaller. It amuses me to no end that Logan will have more clothes to wear than Emma. So very untypical. We aren't really concerned with stereotypically dressing the twins so much as we like to know who we're handing off when we're utterly exhausted. Color is the visual key. When Emma wears blue, conversations often go like this:

"Hand me Logan."

"No, that's Emma."

The best part? We've bought exactly four outfits this time around and they were all newborn size for Emma. We have enough borrowed and hand-me-down clothing that we don't have to go shopping for years.

And I gotta tell ya, I like it like that!

Many thanks to those of you that have gifted us with clothes!

Blast from the Past

Here's what I ran across while trying to find a Caitlin-matching-Emma picture:

Best girl friends. Caitlin and Marlena at the Butterfly Pavilion.

Eeee! So cute! They weren't yet three: twenty-two days and counting.

Still best buds.

Three years and two months later.

Next thing you know, they'll be teenagers.

...

Did you hear that? I think more of my hair just went gray.

Comparing Fingers

Caitlin, at 3.5 months in 2001.Sorry about the picture. My scanner isn't so great, actually.

Emma at 4 months in 2008.

Those are some yummy fingers!

And yes, Caitlin outweighed Emma at the same age. She was a chunka-lunka!

Four Months

The twins turned four months old yesterday.

They've been working on a few new tricks this last week.

Emma has been showing us how she flips over from her back to her tummy. She whips her legs up into the air and then does tummy crunches to curl over onto her side. Then, if her brother isn't in the way and if she wants to, she'll continue the curl until she's completely flipped over.

Roll! Roll! Roll in the hay! Errr...mat!

Laughing has also been in the works, with Caitlin being the instigator. For some reason, the twins find her terribly funny, so long as she's looking at them. It's clear that they love her dearly. Maybe it's because she's closer to their size?

Sitting up is the big new skill. You can put them in the sitting position and they'll hold it until they over balance and fall over. Emma is better at it than Logan, currently. Clearly it's because she's been working on those tummy muscles.

"Caitlin, are you watching me? Are you watching? Do you see me?"

"Yaaaaay! Caitlin sees me!"
Sitting and laughing. Two great tastes that go great together!

Logan has been very grumpy recently. We can't figure out what is wrong and are currently blaming pre-teething activities. Or something. He refuses to be put down and then, when you're holding him he cries unless you're standing up. Yeah. You can see that's not going over so well in the house of We All Like to Sit Occasionally! Other than that, he's fine. Caitlin has been working on her Singing to Sleep skills and knocked a very grumpy Logan out yesterday afternoon. Whew!

Mr. Grumpy Feet and Puppy.

Logan loves standing and will do it every chance he gets. He'd rather be standing than anything else.

Caitlin gives Logan a squish.

Unfortunately, right after this picture, Caitlin fell over and conked Logan's head into my knee which brought our photo shoot to an abrupt end.

They now really react when the other is upset. While they don't wake each other up at night, during the day if one is crying, the other will join in. Very frustrating.

Must remember: Empathy is good!

Don't cry, Logan! I'll save you!
Emma reaches down to comfort a crying Logan. No...really!

Hearing loss, however, is bad.

Emma is still my Champion Sleeper, although she kept waking up a few days in a row. It's bad enough when it's just Logan waking up every few hours (Like last night! Argh!). Can we claim growth spurt?

Making up for lost sleep.

Finally, the last big thing is this:

A new era begins!

Caitlin used to suck on the two middle fingers of her right hand, right up until she was three. Emma apparently decided that they are, indeed, a taste sensation that cannot be beat since she has started preferring those very same fingers. Well, the fingers on her hand, not Caitlin's.

Although she would suck on Caitlin's fingers were they offered.

You know what I mean.

In other news, since it was so warm yesterday (65 degrees), we went to the park where we discovered a Five-toed sloth. Betcha didn't know they existed in Colorado, did ya?

Sloths are cute! More colorful than I'd imagined they would be in winter, too.

Part sloth, part monkey, park koala. A Slomonla?

What do sloths eat, anyway? This one seems to like Fudgesicles.

Oh and the daddy sloth was there, too, giving pointers on how to climb a tree. Right up until he bonked his head on a branch. (I think he's out of practice!)

That's Mr. Sloth, to you!

Just a couple more shots, to send you on your way.

Fly, Emma! Fly!
While not in focus, I really like this shot. Emma squirmed at the wrong time.
Here she's doing that Superman thing: balanced on her tummy while all four limbs are off the ground.

Logan wants to remind us that he's only just little and that he won't be grumpy forever.
We hope.

Almost forgot! The twins both really like toys now. At least insofar as they "play" with them by jamming said toys into their mouths to be drooled upon. All of the toys left over from Caitlin's infancy are now getting a double workout. Drool is everywhere!

Logan really likes being swung up into the air. He laughs at the top of the arc and then will jump up and down in your lap until you do it again.

And again.

And again.

Things to remember

Click to enlarge. Zits comic.

Must remember to use this line when challenged similarly!

The End of the World

I was standing next to my car, which was parked in the driveway of the Denver townhouse. I have no idea why we were there, because we don't live in a townhouse and we don't live in Denver, but there was my car and there I was next to it. Was I getting in? Out? Grabbing some forgotten thing hidden within its depths? I don't know.

I do know, however, that I was slightly turned away when The Flash went off. I looked up to see the end of it and knew instinctively what it was. I started running into the open garage to get into the house. Deep inside I thought it would be safer inside the house than outside in my car. Safe from what was coming. I didn't know how long I'd have, but it wasn't going to be long and that distance, from the driveway into the house via the garage suddenly stretched into forever.

I was a bug trapped in amber. My legs were moving, but I wasn't making any headway. Finally, time sped back up and I lunged into the house and slammed the door shut and then the giant sucking wind began. The crashing and screaming began. I don't remember what happened next. Did I make it up the stairs? For a house I've never been in before, I know exactly how it's laid out.

Dreams are funny like that.

In the house, my family waited for me. The Hatchet Five. Plus, my mother-in-law and Grampy Jim. Was this their new place in Denver? Maybe.

It was dark now. There was ash all over the windows. We couldn't see the capitol building from here, but my instincts were telling me that we'd never see it again. That it was Ground Zero for the bomb that went off.

Was it an accident? An attack? No one knew.

There was a flower with yellow petals and a green calyx that Linda kept throwing out and that I kept pulling out of the trash and sticking back into a cup of water. She grew frustrated with me and asked me what I was doing. I replied that it may be the last bit of green we see for awhile and that we shouldn't throw it away.

It was a symbol.

People began flowing past the house with assorted belongings clutched in their arms. Confused. Despairing. Where do you go when Armageddon begins? What do you take with you? Is any direction safe? Is anyone safe?

We needed to go. Where?

I think it was summer or at least spring. There wasn't any snow and it didn't appear to be cold. I wasn't wearing a coat, at the very least.

Outside, a group of five or six men walked past, loaded with weapons and gear piled high on the back of a single bicycle. Survivalists. Everyone gave them a wide berth. One of the men tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. Stupidly, his finger had been on the trigger of his Very Large Gun. It went off, long and loud with a ripping noise, pointed at the sky. Then it was time for Screaming and Running. People scattered.

That's when I noticed the trucks.

Enormous white semi-trucks, with Wal*mart inscribed in blue on the sides. In the trucks were hundreds of animals: dogs, cats, cattle. They were screaming and tearing at one another to escape. I think they were open sided, like cattle cars, so that we could see what was inside. They were meant to terrify. A war waged with animal fear, adding to and enhancing our own.

It was clear now that the Glassing of Denver was no accident.

We had to leave.

I remember thinking, No! Not Denver! It's dangerous in the city. I think it was related to conversations with Misty about where to live. For me, the city is right out.

The looting would start soon and with it would come predators looking for me and my children. I had a sudden visual of the scene in 24 where the mom sacrifices herself to protect her daughter from rape. And there I was with two daughters and a tiny son. We needed to go now.

We gathered up some things. I remember taking my seeds because where ever we were going, if we were to survive we would need to eat. Soon the only food available would be that which we produced ourselves. We started walking.

What had happened to my car? Perhaps it had been destroyed in the initial blast.

Suddenly things shifted and I was no longer the current time version of me. Instead, I was a teenager and I was running alongside my father and asking him where we were going and how we were going to get out of there.

Was it still Denver or was it now NYC?

I don't know. I'll never know because then? Emma woke up.

But the nightmare won't fade.

Little House on the Desert Plain

Our house is 20 years old this year.

It has been ours for the last 13 years; we bought it the year before we got married and thought it was perfect. We had been renting a 700 sq ft apartment and when we bought 3x that size, we couldn't figure out why the current owners complained that the kitchen wasn't big enough!

Hah ha! Ha! Haaaa.

We were young and foolish then.

It wasn't a fixer-upper, 'cause we're just not handy like that. A little painting, a little electrical work, sure, but not the rip-up-the-walls and add-a-new-room types. Thus began the years of check writing.

First, we finished the basement. And by we, of course, I mean the company we hired because we would do horrible damage to ourselves if we attempted such a thing. This was followed by a massive interior repainting which we did ourselves. That was fun! Especially since it was the summer of the Miller moth invasion. Imagine being 12' up on a ladder, painting the ceiling when Miller moths start dive bombing your head.

The expression is creepy crawly, not creepy fly into your face and make you almost lose your grip and fall to your death/derangement/damage, thankyouverymuch!

That was also the summer that we discovered that there really is a limit to the number of moths your cats will eat.

That's when we also discovered that the vacuum with hose attachment is a great way to get rid of moths.

Um. Anyway! More years passed by and I was busy throwing hissy fits over the lack of counter space in the kitchen. This was combined with Eric's decision to go to law school and the knowledge that we wouldn't be able to move for several years, even if we wanted to. I then demanded insisted strongly suggested that if we were to remain in this house for the next 5-7 years, that for my sanity's sake we needed a kitchen remodel. And while we were at it, let's re-do the master bathroom. Oh and get rid of the carpet, too.

I designed the kitchen on graph paper, lovingly, to scale. Eric wrote the check. We each have our talents.

Then, after we discovered the amount of damage Pixel had done to the basement walls, we had a mini-remodel in the basement (Ripped out the bottom 12" of drywall all the way around and 24" in the corners.) and put bamboo flooring down there as well.

After all that, the house was looking guuuuuuud. It was then time to repaint the outside from the eye-searing pastel yellow to a deep, intense shade of blue. A color that is not for the color faint of heart. The eye-searing had actually calmed down over the years, but initially it was awful. My apologies to those of you that like yellow and specifically pastel yellow, but it was never the color for us. I remember distinctly that when we pulled up to the house with our real estate agent that both of us took one look and were willing to pass. Fortunately the agent insisted we look inside. Smart lady.

And we looked upon our house and it was good.

Until we had a massive hail storm and had to replace the roof, along with everyone else in the neighborhood.

Oh and let's not forget last summer's remodel of the rooms for the kids. That journey began here and ended here.

Then, finally, after complaining miserably about being hot in the summer of my Preggosaurus-ness (First reference to Preggosaurus.) and noticing that the A/C couldn't keep the temperature below 81 degrees, we saw that the windows were shot. The double paned window seals were gone and there wasn't just a little moisture in there: it was a Biodome. Sea-monkeys could have set up shop in there, disappointing yet another generation of children for their failure to actually be...monkeys. (Nice job, sellers of brine shrimp. You suck!)

Ahem. Yes. Where was I?

Oh! So then Eric and I made a deal. He could buy his neat new-to-him car and I could get new windows.*

Score!

What?!

Oh.

I disappointed you, didn't I? I should have bargained for something else? Windows aren't as sexy as a new used car, that's true, but it is what I wanted and felt kinda like a luxury. Although it's kinda funny to call being kept warm in the winter and cool in the summer a luxury, isn't it? Hmm. Maybe I should've asked for more sleep?

No, wait. He doesn't have any of that either.

So windows it was! Errr...is!

I feel warmer already!

No, I'm not exaggerating. You can no longer feel cold air pouring down on you while you sit on the sofa next to the window. (I can hear Sierra cheering from here.) A definite problem when watching movies at night. In the winter. As an added bonus, the street noise has been cut down considerably.

Aaaaand!

The windows are clean.

That's right! It was all a ruse to avoid washing the windows! Bwaaahahahhaaa!

Aha! Ha! Heeeeee! *wheeze*

I need to get out more.

So, here's my question:

If eyes are the windows to the soul, what are windows? The eyes of the house? If so, (Eww! Creepy image!) 9 out of 16 of our house's eyes just had laser surgery.

Come on over! It's warm inside!



* The moral of the story? Rent. It's cheaper.

All the difference in the world

Click to enlarge the Baby Blues comic.

That's it exactly. And so we discover yet another difference between men and women.

What do I think about?

Laundry, gardening, gaming, needing a haircut, eczema, Caitlin's schoolwork, needing new shoes, the primaries, desperately needing sleep, what will I write tomorrow, the house needs cleaning, and what were those dates I needed to write on the calendar? It's a wonder I can ever sleep.

Oh, wait....

Taaaa Daaaaaaah!

Emma, just now at 9:06 pm MST, just rolled over from her back onto her tummy.

She completely skipped the Tummy to Back flip. Never saw her do it. Ever.

In other news, Logan is utterly jealous.

Spell This!

Caitlin is in 1st grade this year and has learned many new things in school. Not least of which has been working on her handwriting and spelling and continuing work on reading.

Just this week, they started spelling tests and gave out a pre-test. They sent the list home with the child and your child is supposed to practice spelling over the weekend to prepare for the week ahead.

Here is Caitlin's list (I don't know what every one else's looked like):

• Important
• Accidentally
• Around
• Situation
• Thought

She got two of them wrong: Imporntant and Thoght.

Here's the note from the teacher in her folder:

"Caitlin will need challenge spelling words (Great speller)."

Um...yeah.

Updated to add: the words they spelled would have been on the 1st 100 sight word list, like this one.