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September 23, 2010

One Month (Adjusted)

So as you may glean from the previous post, things have been slightly hectic – thus preventing me from posting as much as I’d like. Fear not! I have several posts lined up for your enjoyment. Coming soon to a screen near you.

Until then, I’d like to take a quick moment to share that the muppets are one-month-old (adjusted) age today. Had they followed directions, they’d have a lot less milestones for me to write about. Their adjusted age is where we can expect them to fall in terms of growth and development. And they are progressing just as a one-month-old baby should be. (Slightly advanced, of course.)

How time flies, doesn’t it? One month today, four months next week.

The pictures don’t line up to the dates exactly, but they’re a good reminder of how far we’ve come.

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September 20, 2010

One of Those Days

It is 9 p.m. I sit here, with baby vomit in my hair, lamenting the fact that I’ve stayed up so late. With that in mind, I’d like to take a moment to bemoan the day I’ve had in the spirit of Alexander – he of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

As you know, the muppets got their four-month shots on Friday. This has left them cranky and wide awake. I, in turn, am also wide awake. The middle of the night has become social time, when all I want to do is sleep – the floor upon which I’m currently standing looks perfectly comfy.

I think I’ll move to Maui.

This morning was a circus. I had to get the boys ready and help try to get Gramma J out the door to the airport so she could go back home. I wish my mom could stay longer. She just barely made her flight and then had to sit on the tarmac for an hour while a mechanic “looked at the plane.” That sounds safe. I think I’m moving to Maui.

Today was the first day the muppets spent with the nanny instead of with Mom or Dad. We’ve got a great nanny (peace of mind is vastly underrated), but I missed my boys. It was hard to leave. I think I should go to Maui.

I was running late for work so I had to participate in my 9 a.m. meeting via Bluetooth headset in my car. We’re in the middle of the technology capital of the world, but my phone can’t seem to hold a call. Instead, the plant I was bringing to liven up my cube fell over in the back seat. Now there’s dirt in my nice new car. I want to go to Maui.

When I finally got to my desk, I discovered the hard drive on my computer was dead. The IT guy told me it’d be a while since he had to see if there was anything he could do about it. I went to get coffee while I pondered how to make myself useful without my laptop. The barista called me Patty. I HATE being called Patty. I’m moving to Maui.

I ran to my next meeting, hot coffee sloshing about and over my old-fashioned pen and paper note-taking technique. No one was in the conference room when I got there. The meeting was canceled, but nobody bothered to share that with me. I think I’ll move to Maui.

When I finally got my computer back, all my permissions had vanished. The technician told me “it should work,” but that didn’t magically make his statement true. I’d really like to move to Maui.

Destroy had terrible gas pains and was screaming when I got home. Nothing I did seemed to make him feel any better. Search was crying because he just wanted to be held. I felt like a terrible mother. I should go to Maui.

After a week, Destroy finally pooped. He had a major blowout that leaked through his diaper onto the changing pad. Somehow I got poo on the curtains while I was changing him. As I reached for a new wipe, a fountain of pee drenched me, the kid and the changing table. I think I’ll move to Maui.

As soon as I picked him up, all freshly changed and clean, he vomited all over me. Again. There’s vomit in my hair. And it’s chunky. Now it’s 9 p.m., and I’m still awake. I think I’ll go to Maui.

But, just as Alexander’s mom told him that sometimes people (big or small) have terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days – even in Australia – I know people have crazy, hectic, stressful exhausting days – even in Maui.

Although, in Maui, at least I’d be in paradise with the world’s cutest muppets…

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September 15, 2010

Social Security Update

I thought I’d go ahead and share the update – since I know you’re all dying to find out what happened next.

We did not get a payment for October. We did get a notice of overpayment. Today. For the checks I returned (in person) on Sept. 2. For the time they did not spend in the NICU during the aforementioned latter month.

Jon called to let them know we already made time in our muppet-filled hectic lives to give them their overpayed money back. We even shared the receipt numbers., to which the very nice (not sarcastic) social security lady shared were “pending” in their system. (Tangent – Jon was holding Search during this call. Apparently his multiple muppet noises continuously triggered the voice activation in the phone tree so Jon had to repeatedly endure “I’m sorry, I did not understand.”)

Verdict? Since I returned the checks (My name is on them as the guardian. Yes, even though Jon is equally guarding.), they requested that I call back on Monday to find out if they’ve processed the checks they shouldn’t have printed in the first place. I wonder what additional hoops we’ll get to jump through if they haven’t been processed. (I’ll update this post after the auspicious Monday phone call.)

The epitome of inefficiency.

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September 14, 2010

In a Meeting

Work has picked up at a raid pace. Projects seem to be multiplying while I sleep and my calendar is filled with meetings as proof.

It’s nice to keep busy. It would be unpleasant if I sat around bored. I think my job is busy because of the constant planning and development of company announcements and events. But imagine the task of supervising discovery of the entire world. Everything is new and fascinating to the muppets. So Jon has a LOT of meetings.

Working Lunch

The 3 p.m. meeting

Project Manager Destroy

Product Manager Search

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September 10, 2010

Daddy Day Care

Week 1 of Daddy Day Care is complete, with the concluding thought that taking care of one child cannot be that difficult.

Jon works weekends. So it has long been our plan that Daddy Day Care will be in session during the workweek and I’ll step up on the weekends. I was amazed at how many people expressed such concern over this plan.

“Are you worried about Jon?” I was asked. Of course not, I explained. Jon’s always wanted to be a father – and he, like me, is tremendously excited that the muppets are home. “No no,” they clarified. “Are you worried about him being home alone taking care of the boys?”

I was confused. Why would I be concerned? “Well, you’re Mom,” they explained. Yes. And Jon is Dad. “Well, Dad’s don’t adjust as well to taking care of the little ones as well as Mom’s.”

Luckily, we were unaware of this. And Jon is, in fact, a tremendous father – including taking care of muppets.

Daddy Day Care kicks off around 5 a.m. Dad takes over the end of the early morning feeding and sends me back to dreamland. I’m up early and off to work, so those last precious few hours are incredibly necessary. The three enjoy breakfast together when they wake up again in the morning and then Dad tries to squeeze a couple more hours of naptime out of the night.

Once the day has truly kicked off, my boys spend a lot of time in the living room – that’s where their playpen, bouncy chairs and swing live. Allegedly, the muppets take some naps during the day as well. I’ve inquired whether Jon ever naps along with them, but no – SuperDad has things to accomplish during these brief quiet times.

To maintain sanity, the boys set off on excursions around the neighborhood and beyond. Much as I enjoy my summer evening strolls, Jon finds relaxation in hour-long explorations of the parks. He does it to get outside, breathe fresh air, and to let the muppets fall soundly asleep to the steady vibrating rhythms of the rolling stroller.

Alas, Jon notes, “Apparently a dad pushing twins is the equivalent of a circus freak. I got little kids tapping their mom on the arm and pointing at me. I feel I should be selling ad space on the side of my stroller.” The lookie-loos are probably wondering where the children’s absentee mother is and feeling woefully sorry for the poor man stuck with his own two babies.

By the time I get home, the boys have eaten their first dinner and are ready to lie back and cuddle until bedtime. (Although, out of concern for what I’m missing, Dad often lets me handle the dinner diaper change.)

So all you dads out there – get over yourself. You probably won’t break the baby. And moms – don’t assume you need to shoulder everything. Dad may surprise you.

In any case, I’m sure many of you are wondering why there are now two posts in a row without photos. Daddy Day Care is thus far a rousing success. But that doesn’t mean Mom or Dad has the energy to run after the camera. More photos will come soon.

So as Week 1 officially comes to a close, I bid you sweet dreams. Goodnight moon.

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September 6, 2010

Little Sheriff

In July 2009, I traveled up to Portland, Ore., to celebrate the baby shower of my college roommate. After the shower we braved the wiles of Babies R Us to pick up some last minute staples. My roommate was very pregnant at the time, so I was sent scurrying around the multitude of baby “necessities” to retrieve the required items.

In the chaos that is a children’s store, nothing is where logic dictates you’d likely find it. So in one of my many criss-crosses across the store, I passed a collection of sheriff and outlaw little boys clothes. My girlfriend was having a little girl, so I merely smiled in admiration to myself and returned to my quest for side-snap onesies. (Surprisingly, these are not found with the rest of the clothes.)

In August 2009, our friend’s little monkey had his first birthday. I’ve long felt that overalls are adorable on little boys. So I decided to chance my luck back in the baby warehouse. The sheriff and outlaw collection was still displayed. I was tickled blue (these were for a boy after all) to find a pair of 12-month overalls with an “outlaw” cowdog riding a horse on the back. Success! When I circled the rack, I saw the Little Sheriff onesie with the deputy cowdog smiling back at me.

I wasn’t pregnant. The muppets were nothing more than a dim glimmer – not even a twinkle – in our eyes. But I was in love with the outfit. I rationalized that if we had a girl, I could put cute a brown corduroy skirt with it. I bought the onesie – size 0-3 months. I brought it home, folded it up and put it away in the back of my closet.

The day we got the call saying our pregnancy test was positive I took the outfit out to stare at it. It was so tiny. Jon laughed, saying, “Our baby is never going to fit in that!”

I took the Little Sheriff out again the day we found out the muppets were boys. Since my arfing spells had drastically decreased by week 16, I used my newfound free time to daydream about what my little sheriffs would be like in the first outfit I’d ever bought for them.

Diaper

Three months later, we had very very tiny muppets. When they were born, they were too small for clothes; they only wore a diaper. Size 0-3 months was going to be a long time coming.

Preemie

We got excited when we dressed them in their first preemie outfit. We rejoiced when they were big enough for newborn clothes.

Newborn

One month ago today, on Aug. 6, 2010, little Destroy came home. During this past month, he has demonstrated his love for food. And today, at a hefty 10 pounds, Destroy debuted the Little Sheriff onesie.

The month has gone by quickly. We’re definitely more comfortable with the boys and they’re certainly becoming more like “typical” babies. Destroy has completely outgrown newborn size and is now only wearing the long awaited 0-3 months size. Search is not far behind – his rapidly growing tummy can no longer accommodate newborn size pants.

Watch out world – we’ve got a new sheriff in town.

Size 0-3 Months

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September 5, 2010

An Evening Summer Stroll

It may be September, but it’s still officially summer. And after a record cool season, the days have gotten warm. Even Mother Nature is happy the muppets are finally home!

With two quickly growing babies at home, it’s easy to find yourself suffering from cabin fever. And with the recent heat wave, it’s not quite comfortable to take the babes out during the day. The intersection of these two events has led me to discover the most relaxing excursion: an evening summer stroll.

Destroy

By around 6 p.m., the temperature has dropped to about 75 degrees. There is a light breeze – leading to a pleasant combination of sun and shade trade offs. Our city is blessed with oodles of parks (39, many of them within walking distance). And we are lucky enough to live on a tree-lined street. It is the perfect setting for a Leave It To Beaver episode.

Suburbia

Fall leaves are not yet littering the ground. Houses built in the fifties stare back at our empty, calm and quiet neighborhood streets. Green trees stand watch, forming a canopy over the neighborhood. Occasionally shadows over their secretly showing skeletons give the evening an eerie feel. I keep waiting to see Disney’s Haunted Mansion ghosts come leaping out of the trees; sadly, no grim grinning ghosts ever come out to socialize. It’s easy to imagine what the neighborhood must have been like in its 1950s heyday.

Each day our little family heads out in a different direction. Today, I asked Jon where we should go – wondering if there was a direction we had yet to follow or a park still unvisited. He just shrugged, “Does it really matter where we go? Let’s just wander.” Part of the reason these walks are so wonderful is precisely because there is no ultimate destination.

We take our super-sized sport utility stroller and load up the muppets. The excursion gives Jon and me some much-needed fresh air. Search and Destroy will be sleeping soundly within three minutes of setting out – no matter how fussy or cranky they were previously. And the exercise reinvigorates two very sleep deprived parents.

On several occasions, we’ve wandered through the grounds of local schools. Jon shared where his classrooms were when he was a kid and it’s easy to realize how quickly the muppets are growing up. (Destroy is a ginourmous 10 pounds now – five times his birth weight!)

The summer of 2010 was not an easy one for us. But these summer evening strolls are my storybook moments. We’re a happy, healthy and finally together family.

And then we get home and life resumes. And life filled with cuddly muppets after a fresh air nap is good.

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September 2, 2010

Social Security

Social Security is a circus.

This fact was confirmed for me this afternoon. I returned to speak with Social Security for the third time. As I was waiting for my number to be called so I could give them their money back (yes, you read that correctly), I reflected on why this giant government program is in so much trouble.

It is my opinion that the bigger an enterprise gets, the less efficient it becomes. And Social Security may be the biggest of them all. I always thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this treasured government nugget until I was much older. Every so often, I get the little pamphlet telling me that I’d make approximately $7 a month if I retired now; I file them and go on with my life.

Then the muppets arrived. This was my first clue that this experience wouldn’t be simple.

Because they were born under 1,300 grams, they qualified for disability payments. If I may go off on a tangent for a moment – 1,300 grams is a totally random designation. Per their policy, a baby born at 2 pounds 13 ounces is disabled, while a baby weighing in at 2 pounds 14 ounces is just dandy. Reality check – babies of either size are going to spend a significant amount of time in the NICU.

Most babies arrive in a hospital and have their social security number the next day. Not my muppets. Because of their disability (born at 970 and 1,005 grams respectively), they were entitled to $201 per month to supplement their lost income. What income most newborns typically rake in, I do not know. We had to go down to our local Social Security office and meet with a representative to set up payments before they would assign the boys Social Security numbers. And not having a Social Security number is generally frowned upon – especially later in life (when they do actually have income).

We were told we would not receive any money for the first month. This is so Social Security can verify that the children remain disabled. Here’s a thought – if a baby is born premature, chances are they will remain prematurely born. They would receive a check each month (except the first) that they spent even a single day in the NICU.

However:

We were asked to call immediately when the boys come home so no overpayment occurred. Both boys were home by August 9. I alerted Social Security on August 10. On August 15, we received two additional checks. On August 17, we received letters saying we’d be receiving two additional checks. Nothing mentioned why we were getting this. I better call and clarify, I thought to myself.

Nope. This plan of action require there to be a working phone number for the local Social Security office. There is not. Down to the government office went I to wait in line. (Really it’s take a number and sit in a chair, but go with me here.) No one was really able to explain to me what these additional checks were for. But once we got everyone along the same general line of thought, they assured me everything was taken care of. But wait. Even though we gave notice about homecoming at the beginning of the month and went in to personally speak with representatives in the middle of the month, this was not enough time to halt the checks sent out for the month of September.

Our Social Security contact warned us about this. “Happens all the time. You’ll just want to save those checks and bring them back.” Well isn’t that just the picture of efficiency. Print the checks, pay for the postage, send out the money and then ask people to make time to bring it back to you. Let’s try that in reverse and see how well that works out…

That is how I found myself sitting in the Social Security office again this afternoon. I’d returned the checks and was sitting in a chair waiting for the window staffer to find someone authorized to print a receipt for me. (I felt it was well worth the extra time to stay firmly put until I had proof of receipt that I’d returned the checks.)

When I was initially called to the window, I explained the situation and presented the checks. The staffer asked me why I was returning money. I let her know that the boys were premature and had spent time living in the NICU. She asked if the boys had been in the hospital; when I answered affirmatively she said they were entitled to the money. I again explained that they were home now. She instead asked how old they were. After several circles like this, she accepted the checks and went in search of someone who could print a receipt.

Allegedly, everything is now clarified and straightened out. I give it 50/50 odds that the boys receive a check for October.

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August 19, 2010

Super Dad

Well, I just got Jon, Search and Destroy all down for an afternoon nap. All are sleeping under protest.

The muppets are beginning to have more awake time. This translates to more awake time for Mom and Dad as well. And in two short weeks, Dad will be running the house on his own during the workweek. So after a long night followed by an early morning doctor appointment, Jon was ordered back to bed. Search and Destroy decided that they weren’t terribly interested in sleep. But, lucky for me, they were willing to compromise – they would doze as long as they were being held.

It is becoming very clear that Destroy will be the little boy who wants to crawl into bed with us on lazy mornings. His favorite thing in the world is to cuddle up against our chest. And my baby boys will be not-so-little boys in a hurry.

Both boys are continuing to grow up big and strong. Destroy has become so stout that it is tremendously difficult to burp him during/after his increasingly larger meals. Unfortunately, this means we have entered the world of projectile vomit. And “projectile” is in no way an understatement. That kid gets distance!

Yesterday evening, I ventured to the grocery store to fill our empty cupboards. (Since my last foray out of the house went so well…) When I returned home, the house was quiet. “I don’t hear crying babies,” I called out. Jon replied that there was no time for screaming since he had distracted two hungry boys with food.

I walked into the living room and my ingenious husband, aka Super Dad, had improvised. I guess necessity is the mother of invention. And it appears twins are the brothers of necessity.

I picked up Destroy when he was done scarfing.

BLARF!

With more room in his tummy, he obviously felt better for a short while – likely for the duration of the trip up the stairs to the nursery. Destroy does not like costume changes. He screamed bloody murder, exhausting himself so much that as soon as I picked him up again the two of us had to leap backwards to avoid the Exorcist-level spit-up launching itself clear across the rug onto the hardwood floor. Only then did he look up at me with a level of content. “See Mom, there’s no need to change my clothes.”

In other times of alertness, we’ve been working on tummy time. Jon works with them during periods of alertness when they are willing to push themselves – instead of giving up and immediately going to sleep. Although their corrected age is still negative one week, I don’t think it will be to long before my growing boys can roll over. Both are making huge strides on their play-mat – albeit with very different tactics.

Destroy, aka Pudge, attempts to use his greatest strengths (literally) to his advantage. He arches his back, kicking his legs up behind him and lifts his head. This leaves him balanced on his ginourmous tummy, where he teeters back and forth. Search, still lacking a nickname, can now successfully turn his head from side to side without smooshing his face into the floor. He has also managed to tuck one leg under him as he tries to crawl in vain. He’ll push and push with his little legs, knowing he’s trying to get somewhere but unsure why he’s not going anywhere yet.

Destroy

In the immortal words of Dr. Suess, “Oh the places they’ll go.”

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August 10, 2010

Got Milk?

The muppets take a bottle when they’re hungry. And they are hungry a lot. Destroy’s night nurse in the NICU used to call him “the alarm clock” because he’d wake up and scream every two hours and 45 minutes without fail.

As a friend of mine discovered with his little girl, “I guess that’s just the way babies are; they don’t know yet how to express the “you really should think about feeding me now” and instead go to “I’M DYING OF HUNGER! FEED ME ALREADY!!” Continue reading →

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