February 3, 2011

Real Housewives of Silicon Valley

The day after I became a stay-at-home mom, the vacuum – which I’d auspiciously ordered three days earlier – arrived. It’s a nice vacuum – a BMW super sucker if you will (that doesn’t lose suction…) I stared at my fancy new machine.

I envisioned myself pushing its retro ancestor around my living room, clad in a Betty Draper style A-line shirtwaist housedress protected by a simple apron. I’d tidy up our 1955 era little galley kitchen, corralling and calming our Leave It To Beaver-like children before stepping out onto porch to greet Jon as he returns home from work, in a fashion befitting Donna Reed.

I’m a housewife.

Then I realized I wasn’t entirely certain how to make my technologically advanced future Cheerio picker-upper go, and my husband returns home from work at 6:30 a.m. – not a time you’re likely to find me doing any chores more hard core than snoring. That snapped me out of my Nick-at-Nite TVLand daydream right quick. Perhaps I can find work as a more contemporary housewife – they haven’t done a Silicon Valley version of the Real Housewives series yet. Granted, I don’t think I have the right quotient of dramatic flare to entice viewers.

On tonight’s episode of Real Housewives of Silicon Valley! Housewife Tricia puzzles over her new vacuum as she attempts to clear the carpet of dog fur so her muppets can roll. And later…she goes on a walk at the park with other moms. Stay tuned!

Regardless of my silver screen likablility, I went ahead and decided to get some outstanding house projects done. Our honey-do list has been essentially on hold since April 2010 – hospitals, preemie baby boys and opposite work schedules ferreting our attention in other directions. Today Jon liberated our garage from the cardboard boxes and garbage that had threatened to take over. (You wouldn’t believe how much cardboard and packing material comes with babies.)

After his project was completed, we traded roles on muppet watch and I undertook the task of cleaning the tile floor. I don’t think our kitchen has had a deep scrub since we moved in three years ago. As I write this blog entry, the peach tile is coated in a slightly damp fine layer of baking soda. I’ve tried numerous commercial methods for grout rejuvenation, but the floor still looked dirty to me. So, with my days freed up a bit, I did some home-ec research and experimented with baking soda, vinegar and water. Jon kindly pointed out that I was recreating the elementary school volcano science experiment.

But it worked! Sort of. I still need to mop up the dusty white powder. Two days hunched over on my hands and knees with a toothbrush and hairbrush size scrub brush and our peach tile is refreshingly peachy again.

I’m going to spend the next few days networking/stalking recruiters during the two hour afternoon muppet downtime. But I think I’ll vacuum the living room first. It really is a nifty new machine.

4 Comments

February 2, 2011

Bertie Bots Every Flavor Baby Food

It’s official. The muppets like food.

That’s a good thing, considering our days pretty much revolve around it. Since they were wee little two-pound tots living in a plastic box, we’ve focused on food. The first few NICU days focused on whetting their appetites as doctors dripped 2mL (a single ounce is 30mL) into their pea-size tummies.

Then our nurses informed us that one of the first big challenges we’d face was determining how well the muppets would be able to handle processing food. Typically at 27 weeks, tykes prefer to just use the easier umbilical cord route – intestinal digestion requires an awful lot of unnecessary calorie burning. As we’d so traumatically (and literally) cut off that option days before, the neonatologist on call blithely warned us that NEC is a not uncommon preemie issue. (NEC, or necrotizing enterocolitis, is when the intestines die – often taking the attached baby with them.)

Search and Destroy didn’t get NEC. They progressively tolerated higher and higher amounts of milk – never experiencing the step backward we were constantly warned about. Then we learned how to drink from a bottle. Granted, drinking from the bottle wasn’t so much the issue as breathing in conjunction with said bottle. That took a bit of practice, but by discharge Destroy had earned himself the nickname “Alarm Clock” for his high pitched screams should any nurse (or delinquent parent) be late with an every-three-hour feeding.

These past few days, both of my little men have been inhaling their big-boy solid foods. Breakfast consists of oatmeal (also a fabulous facial and hair care enhancer, a factoid the muppets wholeheartedly embrace). Then after nap time, the vegetable of the week is served as lunch. Carrots were our first endeavor; today we graduated to peas.

The carrots were a bright orange mush, but otherwise smelled like carrots. The peas are, well, pea green. Add in the gruel-like consistency, and they rather resembled something I’d expect to see extruding from the opposite end of my children. (In fact, I’m not sure I haven’t…)

Jon and I wrinkled our noses in disgust as soon as each 1.5 ounce jar. “Oh, they are not going to like these,” we agreed.

Turns out, they’re currently into food. Although we had a similar cause for concern when the foreign flavor crossed their lips, the moment quickly passed and the green goop was quickly gobbled up. Thankfully, this stuff doesn’t stain. “No doctor, they’re not feeling ill at all. Just a pea-bit fashion statement…” However, I cannot yet vouch for pea spit-up. I assume an uninformed spectator will very quickly be on the phone with an exorcist while keeping a keen eye to see if either muppet noggin begins revolving in 360 degree rotations.

Their love of food is showing. Especially on Destroy. Jon and I decided to venture forth for a family breakfast this morning. After settling into a booth for four – muppets remain in their carseats – our waitress arrived to coo at our darling children (and allegedly take our order).

“Twins?” she exclaimed. I smiled and nodded. “A boy and a girl?” she smiled at us. No, two boys I assured her.  She was not phased by the correction and plunged right ahead with the interrogation. “Are you breast feeding?” I am not, but I would like some chocolate pancakes.

“Oh that’s good,” she sighed with relief. “I was thinking your little girl here was taking all the milk!” she laughed at Destroy. So what I hear you saying is that my son looks like a girl and is fat?

Jon has repeatedly suggested that perhaps Destroy’s eyelashes, with their perpetual appearance of heavy mascara, cause people to assume femininity. I disagree. Everyone knows ALL the muppets have big round eyes and long luxurious lashes.

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January 31, 2011

Bedtime Story: The Kangaroo Brothers Adventure

Oliver the Kangaroo wasn’t as adventurous as his twin brother. He preferred to stay close to his mother and cuddle up. She was safe and comfortable.

Like all Kangaroos, Ethan and Oliver were born extremely premature. Ethan had helped Oliver climb into their mommy’s warm fuzzy pouch and they’d spent the next nine months planning their future adventures together.

But now that they were big kangaroo boys, finally able to be out of their mothers pouch on their own, Ethan thought Oliver wasn’t any fun.

One day, Oliver and Ethan were playing in their favorite woodland clearing. Ethan was building a fort out of sticks and branches. Oliver was quietly examining various leaves. Ethan reached over and grabbed the leaf out of Oliver’s hand.

Oliver began to cry. Ethan tried to give him one of his branches instead, but Oliver was sad. He didn’t want to build a fort.

Ethan walked away. He didn’t want to play with no-fun Oliver anyway.

Oliver didn’t mind. He went back to looking at his leaves and trying new flavors of grass.

Their kanga-mommy followed Ethan. She told him it was not nice to take things from his brother. They were twins and they could share. Ethan didn’t want to share boring leaves; he wanted to go on a fun adventure.

Suddenly Oliver realized his mom was far away. He ran after her – going faster and faster, until he found himself leaping through the air.

Oliver was breathless when he found his mother and brother. He immediately told Ethan he had found the perfect adventure for them. And it would be so much fun!

Ethan was intrigued. What kind of fun could Oliver have found? Oliver grinned.

BOUNCE!

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Doppelganger

Are they identical?

As we’ve established, the muppets are not identical. They just look like brothers.

However…

One of these is my brother. The other is a random athlete (more specifically, the recent winner of the Australian Open). They are not related.

The muppets are each other’s doppelgangers. Apparently, Uncle Paul’s is a (very good) professional tennis player. Wonder who mine is?

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January 29, 2011

More Carrots and Peas, Please

The carrots have been defeated.

Today was Day 2 of the solid food trials. Search opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue straight out. “I’m waiting, Mom…” Apparently, the taste is still a bit new – it took him by surprise and yesterday’s extraordinarily concerned facial expression returned. After the wrinkled nose subsided, he swallowed, eyed me suspiciously, and opened wide again.

In honor of yesterday’s fallen bib brethren (we’re on laundry load three), we experimented with plastic big boy bibs today. The washing instructions on those directed me to simply hose them down after the battle (I paraphrase).

Destroy decided he wasn’t into eating carrots today. He requested a pass this afternoon, despite Dad’s repeated pleas. Rather, he was fascinated by his new bib and chose to chew on that instead. Search took this distraction as an opportunity to knock the jar out of my hands.

Carrots aplenty!

While I futilely attempted to scoop up the vegetable bounty, Search took the queue from his brother that the new bib may be delicious. Shortly thereafter, there were no carrot remnants left on his bib. He was a proud baby boy.

He took one last big bite, and sneezed. My little muppet shares!

Two washclothes, laundry load four running, and a brand new outfit later and we’re ready to take on tomorrow. Oatmeal breakfast (raspberries supplied by muppets) and carrots for lunch.

“Oompa Loompa Doompadee Dee
If you eat carrots you’ll grow big and see
But orange may be your color too
Like the Oompa
Oompa Loompa doompadee do”

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January 28, 2011

Carrots and Peas, Please

Remember word problems? Solve for X:
The baby food vegetable variety pack includes 12 jars comprising 4 flavors. Each new flavor is introduced once a week. If Jon and Tricia have two babies, how many variety packs will they need to order so they have enough for each muppet can enjoy one flavor each week?

The muppets are eight months old today (actual); to celebrate, we awoke and trooped off to a morning doctor appointment. The boys continue their determined path to put their preemie days far behind them. Both are officially on the growth chart for their chronological age. More importantly, they are both maintaining a studly positively upward trajectory on their individual charts. My sons are obviously brilliant.

Search Welker: 8 Months
15.5 lbs (2nd percentile for weight, 65th percentile weight for length)
25 inches (0.3 percentile for length – but double the 12 inches at birth)

Destroy Anthony: 8 Months
17.5 lbs (16th percentile for weight, 95th percentile weight for length)
25 inches (0.3 percentile for length – but double the 12 inches at birth)

With two chubby growing boys at home, we continue trying solids. To build upon our math equation, eight months actual equates to five months adjusted. After tots decide their little tummies will tolerate infant cereals, “First Foods” are recommended for babes 4-6 months old – single ingredient pureed fruits and vegetables.

The idea to begin with vegetables comes highly suggested. Fruits are sweeter and kids may not want to go back to vegetables after eating pureed bananas that taste suspiciously like the filling in banana cream pie. So the menu options for this evening read: carrots, peas, squash or sweet potato. (Really only the first two, since the store was out of the latter two.) We decided on carrots.

The muppets were strapped into their highchairs, their bibs were read last rites, and we popped the little orange jar. (Interestingly, it smelled just like carrots – tasted rather bland, but Jon and I got the general carrot gist.) Search and Destroy are both used to the dinner-time drill. They expressed complete apathy toward rice cereal months ago, preferring to chew contentedly on the soft-tipped spoon, and have been enjoying oatmeal for several weeks. Jon scooped a small amount of orangey vegetable goodness and aimed for Search’s mouth. Our little muppet opened wide and gulped down his first bite.

His face twisted in horrified concern, his little lips puckering and his tiny nose wrinkling. His eyes squinted in a combined glare and impending wail. He shrank backwards into his chair and tilted sideways as his 17.5 inch circumference mind raced feverishly. Words could not have more clearly expressed the thought, “Dad…there is something very wrong with my oatmeal!”

Destroy’s response was strikingly similar, with the added effect of our more vocal child opening his carrot-filled mouth to explain, “Ablwaa.” The orange revolution had begun.

Both muppets decided to give this strange concoction a second try. And on the third or fourth bite, they both decided these “carrots” were good stuff. There were several successful big boy bites. (Of course, there were also several none-to-successful any size bites.) They finished the first jar, which we’d split between the two of them, and looked at us expectantly as they sat patiently in their high chairs. Ten minutes later, they’d polished off the second jar.

After dinner, we went straight to the bath. We did not pass Go. The boys shed their previously blue outfits. (I was going to type something here about what color the outfit was now, but there was no blending of colors. Orange won.) I then realized we were bathing Oompa Loompas. The boys had the distinct color of a bad spray tan. And it wasn’t coming off…

I’ve heard you can turn orange if you eat too many carrots. (I’ve also heard flamingos are pink because they eat shrimp and only polar bears that live in the snow are white.) The muppets apparently tried to fast-track this anomaly by simply staining their skin. I’m hoping the coloring won’t get worse as we continue to eat carrots for a full week. And given their raspberry-blowing abilities, I’m hoping my coloring won’t be terribly afflicted.

Next week we start peas. So if the muppets look a little green around the gills, no need to worry – it’s probably just pureed vegetables.

For those of you still pondering the opening question – the answer is 5.

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January 25, 2011

Farewell to Arms

His golden locks Time hath to silver turn’d;
O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing!
His youth ‘gainst time and age hath ever spurn’d,
But spurn’d in vain; youth waneth by increasing:
 Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen;
 Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever [purple]

Today was a rough day.

I got to work and immediately procured my coffee. (Caffeine was necessary this morning.) I sat down and plugged in my laptop while I was reviewing my ever expanding to-do list. It was going to be a busy day.

The computer screen went blank. A swirling hour glass reappeared, along with a dialog box informing me there had been an error installing the latest updates. Interesting – I hadn’t installed any. Regardless, I followed the typically failsafe method of fixing all technological issues – I rebooted.

Nothing.

The rainbow swirly wheel continued to taunt me. So after five minutes, I scooped up the computer and marched its misbehaving shell down to the IT walk-up window. “Yeah…” the tech guru mused after punching multiple buttons, “this thing’s toast.” Yay me. I had successfully blown up my computer. My day was being eaten away. And my to-do list was not getting shorter. A sympathetic technician sent me back to my desk with the world’s slowest loaner PC. I sat down, only to discover the power cord wouldn’t register. So, the loaner died.

It was going to be one of those days.

As I was fiddling with the computer, plugging and unplugging, musing the pros and cons of simply pushing buttons until the machine worked, my manger asked me if I had a quick second to chat.

Throughout my entire professional career, that exact request has sent my pulse racing. And for the first time, my fears were founded. My company had made the difficult decision to eliminate 1% of its staff in an effort to enhance revenue growth and margin expansion. My job was eliminated.

I lost my corporate job today. Today, I became a temporary stay at home mom. And I was so close to making it through the entire recession…

I said my goodbyes with tear-filled eyes. When I got home I hugged my muppets who grinned and giggled back at me. Mommy’s home!

My heart goes out to all my fellow Yahoos who lost their jobs today. But mooning and mourning will do no good; we will all move forward. I loved my job and I will miss my team dearly. But I’m going to take this opportunity to spend the time with the boys that I wasn’t able to enjoy during my maternity leave (what with the wires and medically “tiny” diagnosis).

I’m going to focus on writing the next great American novel. And blogosphere fans – please have any and all literary agents contact me as soon as possible.

I initially accepted the job at Yahoo! because I saw a change in societal norms – a new direction for people to consume media and content. I still see that there; sooner than later, I’d like you to be able to find my content there.

Today was a sad day. I came home and hugged the muppets. Boy, will Search and Destroy’s first year be one for the record books.

Seriously though- agents? Columnist contracts? I’m here and best of all – I’m available! You’ll find me at home, enjoying a sunny January with my five favorite guys.

7 Comments

January 23, 2011

I Think I Can…I Think I Can…

In March: It’s a New Generation – One with Many Ultrasounds “Baby B is a bit more . . . rambunctious. I’m pretty sure I saw him punch Baby A at one point. It’s actually been quite difficult to get a still photo of Baby B. Every time the camera tries to freeze frame, for something like a medical measurement, Baby B thinks it’s hilarious to jerk and move away as quickly as possible. We also think he’s had the hiccups several times. Flailing about, clearly warming up for as many 90-foot sprints as possible, Baby B is clearly the frontrunner in the mischievous category.”

In April: Ain’t that a Kick in the Head “Earlier in the week, Jon had suggested he get some games to keep us all occupied. Baby B apparently took this to heart. Based on his circumstances, Hide-n-Seek was the game of choice. The nurse and I could hear his heartbeat faintly in the background. The nurse continued to move the puck around on my stomach trying to track Baby B down. But B is very good at Hide-n-Seek. He was winning even though the nurse had the sound wave monitoring machine advantage.”

Four hours after his birth last May, Search’s primary nurse June, informed me he was refusing to stay swaddled in his bunting – despite the wires encompassing his little body. Throughout his NICU stay, he was only happy once he’d kicked his little feet out. By two weeks old, he was scooting around his isolette and trying to push himself up.

Now that he’s a big giant boy, he’s attempting to mobilize in earnest.

He has spent the past several mornings scooting around the living room. Rolling over from back to tummy is a piece of cake; lifting his head up to look around in a half push-up position takes him very little effort.

Yesterday, Search noticed his soft discovery block about three feet in front of his playmat. He reached out toward it, but it was just out of range. You could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I want that block. That block is over there. I am over here.” He reached forward again – nope, still an arm’s length away. “I want to be over there. That is where the block is. I want that block.”

With a laser-like focus on the big blue block, he scrunched his little legs up underneath him. Step one. He paused, diligently trying to problem solve the situation. The lightbulb went on! He shoved with his arms. And scooted backwards. He repeated this scenario two or three more times. Each time moving farther away from the desired block.

At this point, Search was starting to get frustrated. He collapsed his head to the floor – tushy still pointing skyward.

Search is a voracious thumb-sucker. It may be for self-soothing, it may be his magic feather, or it may be his superpower recharger. He’d flung his head onto the carpet and was furiously sucking his thumb. Thumb firmly ensconced and drool soaking the carpet, his lower lip was just about to jut out in the quiver that precedes the wail, when he noticed the two smaller blocks in the set in his line of vision, just to his left.

He lifted his head slightly, peering at these blocks, and then turned his head to look back at the big blue block. He put both hands on the floor and shoved himself finally forward – inchworming over to the blocks. He was very pleased with himself.

Search has discovered he can move. It’s still a bit wonky. He can’t quite crawl yet. But he’s mastered the art of pulling his legs up under himself, inchworming a few inches and then rolling to the side. He’ll be fully mobile in the very near future.

This morning, he attempted a full tour of our living room. Then he passed out for his morning catnap – bottom still straight up. I took those few moments of solitude to order babyproofing items…

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January 22, 2011

Catch

Hey, Dad… You wanna have a catch?

4 Comments

January 20, 2011

Preemie Babies 101

Preemie Babies 101 is a site where preemie parents can find information, comfort and support about the ginormous twist and turns their lives are about to embark upon. I wish I’d found it sooner.

Afton Mower runs the site – her son became an angel at 21w2d gestation; he weighed only 12 ounces and was 10 inches long. Two years later, her daughter was born at 27w3d gestation and spent 94 days in the NICU. (For comparison by muppet enthusiasts, Search and Destroy were born at 27w4d gestation.)

Throughout her experience from the NICU and watching her daughter grow up, she decided to provide a social hub where preemie parents could band together and help each other through the ups and downs of the NICU and raising preemie babies.

Stressed, confused and exhausted parents are invited to read the experiences, opinions, and stories of other preemie parents, and share fears, thoughts, hopes about the strength of all our little miracles.

Today, you can read the muppets story there.

This story may seem familiar to regular readers of the blog. It is updated from its initial iteration in support of the March of Dimes Prematurity Awareness Day.

**********

Tricia’s Story (Parent Stories)

This story was thoughtfully submitted by one of our readers, Tricia.

I never thought I’d end up a mommy blogger. A world-famous Newbery Medal recipient, sure, but it instead appears my writing talents have headed down the road less traveled. One of my girlfriends started blogging about the random stories of mommyhood shortly after I found out I was pregnant.

My first trimester was rough – not just morning sickness, all day arfing sickness. I had just started a new job in December 2009, so being green on the job took on a whole new meaning. In January, we found out our family was growing a bit faster than expected. Our twins were due in August. In March, we learned our little muppets were two boys. I was finally feeling good.

“I think I’ll start a blog,” I decided one afternoon. I signed myself up on WordPress and there my page template sat for several weeks. No magical article-writing elves appeared to tell my story, so I sat myself down and announced to the global online community that Double Trouble was coming to town. I figured this blog would be a single source location for family and friends. I could sporadically post clever little anecdotes and event photos.

On April 13, I posted an article shouting from the rooftops that I was officialy having a normal pregnancy. Two weeks later, my world turned upside down. I started writing more and more – detailing and journaling my experience on bedrest and ultimately as an ante-partum patient in the hospital as I prayed for healthy twins.

Jon and I became parents on May 28, 2010. Our precious muppets were born weighing 2 pounds 3 ounces and 2 pounds 2 ounces. I held Search in my arms for no more than 10 seconds after his birth. I watched Destroy get wheeled out of the OR wrought with tubes and encased in a plastic incubator.

They were born 12 weeks too soon. And then I passed out.

I didn’t get to meet my muppets the day they were born. I spent hours shivering uncontrollably in a recovery room – demanding water from a nurse who tried my patience to its last nerve by insisting on following medical protocol instead of catering to my thirsty whims. Five hours after they were born, Jon was indoctrinated into life as a NICU parent. He was crying when he came back, but he reported they were doing amazingly well. There were so many wires…

The next day, I learned why people believe in love at first sight. Our nurses and doctors were cautiously optimistic. The muppets were all I could think about. So throughout the next 10 weeks, I took to the Web – sharing my thoughts, feelings and fears to anyone who may happen upon here. As I talked to people and shared our story, it seemed everyone knew someone who was premature. Suddenly, my new normal was “preemie parenthood.” Term babies seemed jumbo and odd.

I found the March of Dimes website accidentally as I scoured the Internet looking for any and all information on the hospital jargon being thrown at me. I became a mother on a mission. My boys were coming home healthy if I had to get a medical degree to do it.

The NICU staff laughed. “When you leave here, we’ll be sending you home part parent, part nurse.”

I never thought prematurity would be the cause I’d get behind. I did everything I was supposed to, but fate/humanity had other ideas and life isn’t fair. My body was broken but my boys are fighters.

The muppets are now more than seven months old. They’re laughing now (and having a grand old time spitting rice cereal raspberries) and it’s hard to remember how tiny they truly were when we first started our journey home.

I’m proud to be a preemie-parent. And I’m proud to be the mom to such nifty NICU grads. Next week our family will return to the hospital for a well-check with our pediatrician, and I expect at least one of the boys to tip the scales at 17 pounds – a far cry from tiny two pounders.

Thanks for getting the word out.

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