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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September 1, 2010

Hi Ho, It’s Back to Work We Go

At 6 p.m. on April 20, I headed out of the office. I stopped by my boss’ desk to say goodnight and reminded her that I had a doctor’s appointment the following morning. I’d be in by 10 a.m. I assured her. And without a second thought, I moved on to a much more pertinent topic – asking her if we could quickly chat about the newspaper exclusive I’d secured that day. Business as usual.

Four months and 12 days later, I’m returning to the office for the first time after that fateful checkup with the doctor. It went a little longer than planned… Twenty pounds lighter and two kids heavier, tomorrow is my last day of maternity leave.

Hard at work...

It’s been quite the adventure. Most typical new mommys take just about the same length of leave as me. But I’d venture to guess that those mommys also spend approximately four months and 12 days bonding with their newborn. I will have spent 24 days home together with the muppets. (And I used to be shocked that my mom went back to work only two months after I greeted the world.)

My maternity leave breakdown is as follows:

  • 37 days on bedrest hoping to stay pregnant
  • 26 days hospitalized
  • 7 days panicking as we endured the preemie “honeymoon”
  • 30 days adjusting to life with babies in intensive care
  • 73 days spending 4-6 hours a day in the NICU
  • 24 days home with my muppets

82 percent of the aforementioned leave spent worried and without them. (Well, 100 percent of the time worried about the boys, but 82 percent so worried about how to get them home healthy.)

Originally, I wanted to work from home while I was bedridden. But my team of doctors said, “No.” They claimed work was too stressful. Right – because a job I liked was the part of this ordeal that was going to stress me out…

...and play.

Am I looking forward to going back to work? That’s a tough question. After so much time away, yes – I am very ready to go back. But I do wish I had more time with the boys. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t need more time, because I’d have spent all of my time bonding with my term newborn sons. C’est la vie.

For those of you calculating – yes, I am starting back up on a Friday.  I plan to spend some time reminding my team who I am and the vast majority of the day sorting through the thousands of emails awaiting my return. (This is not an exaggeration.)

I’ll miss them during the day. But I doubt they’ll miss me. 1) They’re newborns. 2) The lucky little muppets will be living the high life with Daddy Day Care.

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August 30, 2010

Forever in Paradise

Uncle Paul and Aunt Stephanie are currently vacationing in paradise – also known as Hawaii. For those of you wondering about my word selection, yes, I did indeed say Aunt Stephanie.

You see, Paul and Stephanie are now engaged. [We momentarily interrupt this blog post to do a happy dance around the living room.] Continue reading →

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August 28, 2010

Third Generation

Today is the muppets three-month birthday. To celebrate, I picked up my dad from the airport this morning so he could meet the muppets (really just a coincidence).

GrampaTavo’s moniker is a play on the name his nephew used many years ago. When he couldn’t pronounce the mouthful “Gustavo,” he instinctually shortened it to Uncle Stavo. This seemed like a good grandfather name as well – especially for one married to a former speech pathologist who understood the difficulty youngsters have pronouncing longer names with hard sounds.

GrampaTavo

GrampaTavo walked in the door and immediately began laughing. “Oleee sheet…” [insert Italian accent to fully comprehend his comments] he kept repeating. Even though he’s been regaled with tales of the boys – from their adventures in the NICU to Gramma J’s stories about her “cutie pies” – his grandsons still weren’t completely real to him because he’d never met them.

Jon was holding Destroy; he offered to let GrampaTavo hold him. “Oh no no no,” he waved us away. Instead he gently kissed the top of his head. Then, after a brief hunger meltdown, we once again encouraged GrampaTavo hold one of the little guys. He tentatively reached out and cradled Destroy in his arms. That’s when he began to cry. It was officially real.

With today’s visit, all of the grandparents have met the next generation of precious cargo. And with all four grandparents, the only thing to say is: Lucky muppets.

Grandma Nancy

Grandma Nancy was the first to meet the muppets. The afternoon Destroy came home Jon called his mom. She initially worried that she would be intruding on our new little family life. After being reassured that we truly wanted her to come over (Jon and I were exceedingly excited to introduce our little dudes to our family after 73 days in the hospital. We were (and still are) very proud parents), she acquiesced and arrived at our house nanoseconds after hanging up.

She squealed. Then she snuggled. We’re lucky enough that she lives close enough to get her fill of daily snuggles. As the boys get older and become more of a handful, I think it will be a wonderful idea to encourage grandmotherly assistance by bribing her with promises of loving snuggles.

Gramma J

Gramma J was the next to arrive. When I came downstairs to greet her, I found her on the couch rocking Destroy. She looked up and grinned, “Look what I have!” For the next week Gramma J could be found pacing back and forth in our living room with one of two very content muppets happily sleeping in her arms. When it came time for her to depart and return to her SoCal existence there was a great deal of pouting – and not on the part of the adjusted-age newborns. Sadly, Skype just isn’t the same.

Grandpa Gary

Just like GrampaTavo, Grandpa Gary teared up when he met the muppets. After holding both boys for a bit, he walked over and hugged me. I asked him if he was doing all right. His only response was a squeak. I could only laugh when he later thanked us for giving him grandchildren. Believe me – the pleasure is ours.

We’ve been told that even though a parent’s love for their child cannot be described, a grandparent’s emotions are doubled when they meet the next generation. These little ones are their babies’ babies. And as a parent, you constantly worry (from three-minutes to thirty-years old and more). As a grandparent, they can simply sit back and enjoy the awesomeness of the tiny new lives.

Search and Destroy are now fully prepared to be spoiled silly by their grandparents. And all of us are looking forward to having the muppets meet the fourth generation. G.G. – we can’t wait to have you hug the boys!

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August 24, 2010

Keary Dee Photography

You may have noticed that yesterday’s post didn’t have any new photos of the muppets. That’s because there’s no way I could compete with today’s photos.

We had our first official family photo session today. We opted to forgo the hospital mugshots. 1) Because they look like baby mugshots, and 2) we’d had enough of the hospital to last a lifetime and I wasn’t terribly keen on memorializing their infanthood in a NICU isolette.

Photographer Keary Dee arrived at our house armed with camera, lenses and a giant teddy bear and our humble home was instantly transformed into a set for two adorable muppet models.

We decided to set up the shoot after seeing the amazing photos of other families. (Note: this is not a paid endorsement post.) Keary specializes in weddings, senior pictures and family portraits. Obviously, newborn twins are her cutest subjects.

These three pictures are a sneak peak of today’s session. As soon as they’re available, I’ll post the link to the final gallery. You are all welcome to ogle and/or order your very own muppet photo.

All photos courtesy of Keary Dee Photography. Eat your heart out Ann Geddes…

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August 23, 2010

Due Date

It’s been 12 weeks coming; today the muppets are officially newborns. Their corrected age is zero. Since the day the muppets were born we’ve been counting down their gestational age and today is 40 weeks.

Today is their due date. If all had gone as initially medically planned, I would be sitting in this recliner waiting. I would likely be staring at the clock – okay…let’s get this show on the road. I probably wouldn’t be blogging. If I was still pregnant, I would have close to 16 pounds of baby in me right now and I probably wouldn’t be able to get close enough to the computer keyboard to type any posts.

If the boys arrived today, I would just now be starting my maternity leave instead of preparing to return to work next week. Jon and I might be staring at them wondering what we should do next. I’d be exhausted – and not just from being awake every three hours. We wouldn’t be well versed on saturation levels, nasal cannulas and NICU hospital corridors.

When we first found out we were going to be parents last December, Aug. 23, 2010, seemed an eternity away. I knew I’d be paranoid for the entirety of the pregnancy, but I was excited. In February, I nervously told my relatively new boss that I was having babies. She smiled and wrote “Tricia – maternity leave, August” in her notebook.

When I was admitted to the hospital in April, Aug. 23 became a pipe dream. When the boys were born in May, Aug. 23 became a goal. Our NICU nurses repeatedly told us to expect them home by their due date. They’ve both been home for two weeks now. My sons are obviously brilliant.

The other day our little family went for a lovely evening stroll. A random lady on our street asked how old they were as we were returning home. Jon paused. “Two weeks,” he said. That just seemed easier than explaining their life story. Developmentally the boys really are newborns. We can expect them to follow the growth chart of their corrected age until they are approximately three years old. But I like to think of them as “advanced newborns” due to their past three months of life experience.

We were privileged to meet them three months early and get to know them as they finished fine-tuning in the NICU under the care of our awesome nurses. We then got to bring them home and have spent the past two weeks settling into a routine.

By the power of karma, this has been the most stressful year of my life. Gramma J used to wish a child just like me upon my future self. Search and Destroy are determined and stubborn little fighters.

The muppets due date is finally here. In medical terms I believe this means they’re no longer tiny – just typically small babies growing up. Maybe they’ll give their parents a reprieve on some of the stresses yet to come in the lifetime ahead of them.

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August 22, 2010

My Baseball Glove

Pudge continues his projectile spit-up streak. Perhaps his distance throwing abilities and consistent weight gain will earn him a spot in Major League Baseball as the next great player. Pudge Stream – has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Yesterday, Destroy successfully puked his way through six outfits. Several of them lasted only through the completion of a diaper change. The second I’d pick him up, BLARF! At one point Jon suggested we wait until before bed before changing him from a cute short-sleeved onesie to long-sleeved footie pjs since it was going to be a cooler evening. No sooner had I agreed than BLARF! Message received. We’ll change now.

The saga of outfits (and beginning to wonder if we’ll have any more to clothe the child in if he continues blarfing at such a rapid pace) reminded me of one of the most infamous childhood stories told in my family.

Camping has always been a classic right-of-passage type of family vacation. (Not for me, my family only ever camped Troop Beverly Hills style). And in the early 1960s, this was just such an outing my mother went on. Since my mom and her brother had reached the wise-old-age of double digits (they were 10ish), G.G. told her offspring that they were old enough to pack their own bags.

Janet and Tommy gathered their necessary belongings. Everything was loaded into the rented RV and the family headed off to the campgrounds. Once there, Tommy began skipping along the stones peaking up from the lake. G.G. repeated warned him to be careful. “You’re going to fall in,” she noted.

“No I’m not,” the all-knowing pre-adolescent assured her.

Splash!

“I told you so,” G.G. calmly reminded him as she looked up from her book. Tommy waded his way back to shore and stood staring at his mother, dripping from head to toe. “Well,” she prodded him, “go change your clothes.”

“What clothes?” he inquired.

“Go change out of your soaking outfit and into one of the dry pairs of pants you brought,” a very exasperated G.G. instructed her son.

“I didn’t bring any pants,” replied a very confused Tommy.

Beginning to grow increasingly concerned, G.G. slowly looked up at Tommy and asked, “Well what did you bring?”

“My baseball glove,” Tommy proudly stated. Tommy was then shuffled back to the RV to change into an orange jumpsuit belonging to my mom.

What a game of catch that must have been. At the very least he would have been an easy target in his big sister’s orange outfit all week.

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August 19, 2010

Twins

Yes, they are twins. They are two boys. Yes, they are cute babies.

No, they are not identical; they are fraternal. No, that does not mean identical twin brothers.

Yes, I can tell them apart. How? I look at them.

Thank you. Yes, I have lost all the baby weight. No, I don’t have a big secret. I just didn’t have a third trimester.

Yes, we absolutely have our hands full. Our lives, as well as our hands, were much emptier without them.

Yes, they eat on the same schedule. We’re the parents, that’s why. No, we don’t get a lot of sleep. No we don’t know how we do it either. But we do.

Yes, they are natural. What the heck is an artificial baby?

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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.

Search

Destroy

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

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August 16, 2010

Go Away, We Don’t Want Your Money

It’s been one full week with both muppets. And their actual due date is still another week away. Gramma J departed on Saturday – back to the daily grind of a new school year. That leaves just a mom, dad and two muppets to fend for ourselves.

We’ve begun developing a routine and so far the boys sleep at night. (As much as newborns sleep – 3-4 hours at a time.) And being the big boys they are (and growing still more), they have moved out of the master bedroom and into their own room. While I have always been impressed with the overall mural decorating the nursery, Search and Destroy are showing a much more intricate artistic palette and continuously concentrate on the minute textured details of all the individual leaves on the trees above their crib.

During the day we socialize and discuss the new wonders of their world, in between feedings and diaper changes. They nap downstairs in their playpen. Napping occurs only when they are too exhausted to even cry. Destroy does occasionally fall asleep, but he much prefers to do so only when lying on one of our chests. This makes getting anything actually done around the house rather difficult.

That’s no surprise to us. We knew we were facing a challenge as soon as we learned we’d be entering the parent pool at a 1:1 ratio instead of the more traditional 2:1 parents to children. So it’s a huge success when at least one of our little chores gets accomplished. (Yesterday there was no blog post because I was busy patting myself on my back for doing all the laundry. Granted there are several more loads already needing to be done today…)

Today, both boys were snoozing after their afternoon lunch (there are multiples of each meal). Everything was otherwise chill in the Stream household. I decided to take this opportunity to make a dash for the mall.

I figured that I could make it to Nordstrom and back in under an hour. Jon was willing to hold down the fort. And I needed new nursing bras. In theory, this should have been a very quick and straightforward transaction. I made it to the mall, parked in no man’s land because I’m still scared of parking stalls while in the much-larger-than-my-Accord Honda Pilot and located the lingerie department.

I asked a friendly clerk if she would be so kind as to point me toward the nursing bras. “Did you need to be measured?” she offered. I declined – just need to be pointed in the direction, thanks. Instead, she asked if I would mind waiting for her colleague to finish her transaction and she could then help me. I was slightly confused, but I patiently waited.

Finally, after about five minutes, the nursing bra clerk was available to, what I hoped, walk me over to the nursing bras. “Is this bra for you or someone else?” (Are gift bras located in a different section?) I assured her if was for me. She then paused. “Well…we’re doing inventory tonight, so we can’t touch anything in the stockroom.”

Confirm you are telling me I can’t buy anything today because you need to count what you haven’t sold later tonight?

She then suggested I come back tomorrow. I explained to her that I was shopping for said nursing bras because there were two small boys at home waiting for me and my new nursing bra. So no. I cannot simply come back tomorrow because it already took an act of God for me to dart out for this hour (a slight exaggeration). She offered to measure me and mail me a different bra tomorrow. I said thank you, but no thanks, I prefer to pick out my own undergarments.

I just wanted to spend money after shopping at a brick-and-mortar store. Unfortunately, this was not a presentable option. Corporate decision makers – if you’re out there – telling customers to go away is a bad business move in my opinion. Especially when the items relate to new babies.

Next time I’m going to stay home and nap with the boys. We live in the Silicon Valley – I’ll just order online.

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