Perks

Do I look 'spensive???



Well, I am.

Meet the most expensive item of apparel I have ever owned: my new $460 Gucci sunglasses. At last, there is a perk from Ryan going into ophthalmology. I have always complained, because really, of all the specialties to go into, he chooses the one thing I have no issues with - eyes. In fact, he could have chosen anything from the neck down and I'm sure I could have found a use for it. But from the neck up, I am actually pretty intact. So at last - there is finally a bonus! Free glasses for the Mrs. And since my eyes are perfect, it's all for fashion.

And I love Ryan's new Prada glasses:

(Isn't he a handsome devil?? Here he is, buying our tickets home for Christmas!! HOORAY!)



Really, we feel a little silly saying my Prada or my Gucci glasses (ok, saying them and not implying my knock-offs). But apparently mine are a collector's piece, the guy told me, because the side part is custom-made or something. He said not to leave them lying around anywhere becuase they'd be snatched up in a second. Said they'd go for $600 anywhere else. But I'm not sure I believe him, because he didn't even have a shirt on (oh wait, wrong story).







Anyway, I hear they'll pair really well with my closet full of Target clothes....

Stand Aside

So here was our adventure this week:


The triple jogging stroller.
(Despite their faces, the boys actually enjoyed it, this was just the end of the ride.)

It's pretty much ridiculous.

I could not keep a straight face while pushing this tank around the neighborhood. Whenever anyone made eye contact with me - before they'd even had a chance to register the woah, what the heck factor - I bust up laughing because, yes I realize just how absurd we look. I mean really, it's about 4 feet wide, and just as long. It really seems to accentuate the wow-you've-got-your-hands-full even more than pushing the double with Cash walking. And one dumbell even said, "Wow! Triplets! I can't believe it. My mom had twins, but...."

Luckily I borrowed it from a friend to see what we think before we would actually invest in one. Mostly, we were just seeing if we would fit through our building with it.

Pretty much, we don't.


If I could find one that was 2 inches more narrow, I think we could swing it. But as it is, we have to have two of us turning it sideways and tipping it onto the front wheels (which swivel) to get it into the elevator. Which is beside the point. The goal is autonomy. For me alone to be able to go out and walk around the park as much as I want, especially since Cash is such a stroller-lover and could sit in there all day. As far as maneuvering through our building, I've tried every other scenario there is. The only other option is for me to put the kids in one at a time out the side door of the building (hoping no one steals them while I go in and get the other ones - although they'd hardly be inconspicuous if they felt running off with them in a triple stroller, I guess) and then go down through the parking garage with it. That was looking like a real possibility until I realized - oh wait. Besides being slightly dangerous, that means I have to come back up 4 flights of our parking garage pushing 100 lbs. Hmmm.



But it sure does drive like a dream. Much easier than pushing our double. I've never had a jogging stroller before. I can see why they're so great. They're so fast they really make you want to run. And there is just about nothing in this world that makes me want to run.

Well, it was cute to see the boys all next to each other. And it was almost just as amusing to watch people diving off the sidewalks out of our way when they saw us coming, like we had dynamite hanging off the sides of the stroller or something.

How to Entertain a Toddler

Cash seems to have reverted to everything baby since the twins were born. He'll lay under their playmat, sit in the Bumbo (I'm sure all the while thinking, what's the big deal here?), etc. But two of his recent favorites are these:



Johnny Jumper: self-containing entertainment. If I want it to last even longer, I put a kids cd in the computer, play it through Media Player so it does the little laser show, and he's mesmerized and stays there even longer.
And let me tell you - that sink bath is money. Our living room/kitchen/dining room area is all just one big room. So when I'm by myself doing bedtime because Ryan isn't home yet, I can get the twins through their sink bath and then get them on the couch with their bottles while Cash is in the sink. I can clean up, burp the twins, whatever, and I don't have to waste that time just sitting in the bathroom watching Cash take a bath. Jackpot.

Funky stuff

A couple of weeks ago, I had just come home from playgroup. As usual, I went to get the stroller out of the back. This time, however, I noticed something attached to one of the baby blankets I also had in the back of the car. It looked like it must have been a toy, a piece of some toy nature set or something, because it looked like it was made out of yarn. It must have stuck to my blanket when I was in the house for playgroup. It looked like a caterpillar, but the torso and the legs were so thick and fuzzy I thought it was made out of yarn. So I picked it off of the blanket that it was stuck to (yeah, dumb idea), and the thing moved. I FREAKED OUT. I hurled it across the parking lot, cursing the dang thing for being in my car, cursing the fact that I actually picked it up, and cursing the fact that I live in a place that could breed such specimens.



It all clicked later when my friend happened to post these pictures on her website, about the Oleander caterpillars that live in the bush outside their front door. Of course - that's where I had left my stroller. Yuck. I hate creepy things.






And then I just found this in Cash's room the other day. Oh help me. And I'm actually glad the picture is blurry. I'd creep out more if I could see the detail. I was trying to take the picture with my eyes closed as it was. You can't tell, but it was about 2 inches long, at least.


I haven't seen anything nasty in this apartment before. And it's right by the closet where all of our storage stuff is....




Speaking of what Miami breeds, I swear we have been sick about every other week since we've been here. And the inbetween weeks were filled with teething children (even Cash, getting his 2-year molars). That's made for some real fun times here, let me tell you. But it ticks me off, because my ONE consolation about moving to Miami was this: well, there's not really winter there, so at least we will get sick less.

Oh how wrong I was.

And we dont' just get runny noses here. We get mega viruses. Things that come with fevers and chills, stuffiness and congestion, and some form of pooping issues - all rolled into one. So I've tried to figure out why - when the weather here is good, there's not that change of seasons / winter weather to bring on all the illnesses. I've decided it must be that the hot, humid climate here just breeds all this nasty, funky stuff. All these foreigners bring it in and it just breeds here and mutates and just basks in the freaking heat and humidity. GRRRR. So much for my one advantage. And it's not like it's just the kids that get it. Every time they get something, I get something. I know getting sick is supposed to make you have a stronger immune system, but I don't know if I buy that. I got sick when I was a kid, and now I just have to go through it all over when I have kids. The stuff they get now isn't the same stuff we had 30 years ago, it's all mutated. So I don't even think all that getting sick as a kid helped gave me any advantage to being able to fight stuff off now.

And on a side note, whenever people hear that I moved from Wisconsin, they say, "Oh, you must love the weather here then." Last week I finally decided that, no, I would actually rather spend a year in Wisconsin than a year here, having to endure these summers. Maybe there's hope. There have now actually been two non-humid days since I've lived here. Let's hope there's more where that came from. We'll see what I say after the winter here.

Dear Babies

October 19th. The one year anniversary of this little discovery:


In commemoration, I have a few thoughts for you, babies.


Dear Babies:

Sometimes I wish I could stick you back inside of me for a little while - just so I had an excuse to still be fat.

When you were growing fetuses I used to take naps every day. WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED????



Do you remember nights when you were in the womb? Whenever I would roll over, whoever ended up on the bottom would start kicking the one who ended up on top in protest. I was annoyed because I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't help smiling at the consistency of always wanting to be the one on top.

Are you ever going to realize that you're not really doing anything? Yeah, yeah, I know there are millions of little neurons firing and pathways making connections, but sometimes I just look at you and think, aren't you bored? How many times can you really play with your toes without thinking - hmm, this is getting old. Like one day aren't you going to wake up and just think, hey I don't feel like staring at things and drooling today.




Remember that day when everyone of us in the house actually took a good nap - all at the same time? Yeah, me neither.

You are not very graceful teethers. You guys will owe me for that some day.

I will admit that on occasion, and I mean rare occasion, I have actually been excited for you to wake up because I know that this will greet me:



I love that you boys can drink your bottles with your feet sticking straight up in the air. Bet you have a six-pack under all that chub. (I say this when I look in the mirror too.)


And I love that I can walk over and tell when you pulled your bottles out and have been trying to get them back in: your face is dotted with milk - eyelids, forehead, cheeks...but you still haven't gotten it back in your mouth. So cute.


I love that you guys find each other entertaining. The first time I caught a glimpse of this it made me so happy. We came home and it was late, you were cranky. I put you both on the playmat thinking you would cry your heads off within 30 seconds. But then I got busy, putting things away, getting dinner ready, and kept thinking, wow, I can't believe they're not freaking out yet. Then I heard giggles. And I saw you looking at each other and giggling. I only caught a little on video. But it made me very hopeful for the future - like I hope you keep each other entertained a lot.





Everyone always asks us if we can tell personality differences yet. Not too much. People will say one of you is the happy one, but the next day it will be the other one. The only thing that has remained the same is that Phoenix, you are still the spaz. You were that way from the womb. Ashton was content to just chill, and Phoenix was always the one bumping around. Even now, you are always moving your hands or feet or wiggling all over the place, and Ashton is still just content to lay there and look chubby.


Good thing you're getting a lot cooler now. I wouldn't want to re-live the last almost 8 months again for anything. Unless I had to go through it again to have you.

Hate List

Ok, I've tried not to whine and complain too much about this because really, who wants to hear it? But the last US Weekly cover just sent me over the edge:


(Ok, I know, I should just stop reading trash magazines. I had to give it to my neighbor to get it out of my sight. And at least once a month they have an AMAZING POST-BABY BOD!!! cover. Blech.)

BUT - it's not just celebrities. I know I could say yeah, if I had nannies and a personal chef and a fitness trainer and got paid a million bucks to look that way.... But Brooke, and Jill, and Tanya, and a friend's sister, and all you other the other real-life post-twinners I know are totally skinny. Seriously, despite what I thought, everyone I know personally that has twins all lost all their baby weight and got back into normal clothes within weeks. I really was not expecting to be the exception to the rule.

Am I super disciplined?
No.
Why not?
Because I've never had to be before.

I've never been rail-thin, but always had a comfortable balance between eating whatever I felt like and exercising a few times a week. And I have had a few bouts of giving it some real effort. Enough that my past self would have responded. I even went without chocolate for weeks. And NOTHING. Apparently consuming my body weight in chocolate during any given month has never seemed to matter before, and the lack of it doesn't seem to matter now. (Well, at least now I know it didn't help so I can go back to eating chocolate.)

Then there's another fear: is this because I'm almost 30, and this is just what the rest of my life is going to be like?

I will say I've found a new use for Costco: that's where the fat people in Miami hang out. It's become my new self-esteem booster. It seems to be especially noticeable when you're hanging out in the food court. (Eating pizza. And churros. And ice cream. With a 5lb box of brownie bites in the cart.)

But no, not my neighborhood. Women walk out of my building all the time pushing strollers and wearing skimpy clothes with totally svelte figures. And they're always eating apples. Which makes me roll my eyes. I guess maybe I could look better if all I ate were apples every day too. But Ryan always chastises me after these women walk by. "You were totally staring them down," he'll hiss at me. Well, I say, I have to turn around to see into their strollers to see how old their babies are relative to how skinny they are so I can decide to what degree I hate them.

I think that's another reason I'm almost hesitant to give up nursing. It's been my excuse for still holding onto the weight (another exception to the rule since it makes most everyone else drop weight super easily) - I'm afraid I'll stop and still won't lose the weight, and then I'll really be screwed. I know, you guys all say I look fine. Good thing I'm tall because I hide it better, but that scale don't lie. And neither do my clothes. Seriously, I've admitted that it's too much to ask my regular clothes to accommodate an extra 25 pounds. But I've totally worn through the one pair of jeans that actually fits me. And I hate to give in and buy new clothes when I keep thinking I won't be this way long and I don't want to spend the money!

So much stress. Thanks for letting me vent.
I better go find some chocolate to unwind.

My superhero

A certain Mr. Isom that I know has always been a very amusing sleeper. I discovered when we were first married that he was a sleep-talker. I'm realizing now that I should have written down some of the humorous things he's said while asleep, because I've already forgotten a lot of them, probably because he's slowed down and hasn't done it as much recently as he used to. During med school there was lots of medical jargon, and often if I could figure out the topic enough, I could join in and keep him going. I could tell when I'd gotten off track though because he would frown and roll over - conversation ended.

One night I remember feeling movement in the bed - so I looked over and I see Ryan with his arms straight up in the air, his hands moving as if he were knitting or something. I didn't know he was asleep and I just said, "What are you doing?" He replied, "Making it." "Making what?" I asked. "Our new couch," he said, as if, duh, of course that was what he was doing. And yes, we were currently couch hunting. Love it. Maybe he thought we were too poor to buy one.

Fast forward to now. The head of our bed is right by our window. We have vertical blinds, and each piece of blind is clipped in at the top. Well, a few weeks ago we saw the new Batman movie. Sometime in the middle of the night, I remember feeling a piece of blind come crashing down across my face. I looked over and Ryan and I exchanged confused looks as he pulled the blind off and put it on the floor and we both went back to sleep (although there was an annoying spot of light coming in that kept hitting me right in the eye all night).

In the morning I remembered, and was like, "Yeah, what was with that blind coming off last night?"
"I pulled it off," Ryan said.
"What? I thought it just fell down."
"No, it was me. I just remember thinking I had to get it. I had to reach up and pull it off."
"Like you were on a mission or something and that was your quest?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Were you having Batman dreams?" I asked.
With his sheepish little-boy look, Ryan answered, "Yeah, I think so."

Well, last night, I happened to still be awake. This time I look over to see Ryan with a rather contented look on his face reach up and just start swinging his hands through the blinds, sending them crashing around into each other. It was funny that he was so amused by this and I really wanted to laugh, except I didn't want to wake him up and spoil his fun. Then I saw his hands start to hone in on a couple of individual pieces and clamp down. Knowing what was coming I reached over and gently caught a hold of his arms and said very nicely, "Don't do that, ok?" He finally opened his eyes, confused, my face right up in his, and said, "I don't know where I am," rolled over, and went back to sleep.

I kind of wish he still talked in his sleep as much as he used to. It's just so amusing.

So dramatic

Thanks for the break. Sorry if it seemed dramatic. I can't even claim PMS since I haven't even had a period since, oh, I don't know, 2005? But especially, thanks for all the comments.Wow. I laughed. I even cried. I loved the comment: "Who is your publicist?! This is a great publicity stunt!" No kidding. Who knew it would elicit a record-breaking amount of comments and draw so many readers out of the closet! It felt like I lucked out and got to hear my funeral even after I died. Only not so morbid. And nobody died.

And I didn't mean to bite the hand that feeds me. Really, you guys have been such a great support over the last year. And cheaper than therapy.

Anyhow, I've been having so many thoughts lately about negativity. With all the election coverage, I've been watching more CNN, Fox, etc. Um, does anyone else notice a serious lack of warm fuzzies after watching all that? There's just so much darn negativity in our society (like most of my blog, ha ha. Sometimes I wonder why anyone is still reading). But I hate that everyone is always trying to catch someone in something. Or blame someone for something. After that first economic bill didn't pass, show after show was dedicated to simply finding someone to blame for it. Then with all those Sarah Palin interviews. Like her or not, I kept asking Ryan how all those interviewers could feel good about almost trying to catch her in an uncomfortable moment. I know it makes for good tv, but isn't there just something intrinsic in people that wouldn't want to make someone feel awkward?

I was talking to a friend recently about some of this. A little closer to home I also mentioned how the girls I knew in New York were always really good about paying compliments to people. It seemed like almost every Sunday you went to church, someone would find something complimentary to say to you. And so it bred, and everyone always seemed to be passing on the compliments because everyone realized how much they enjoyed having something nice said about them. My friend said she heard once that if you're ever thinking something nice about a person you should say it out loud. Sound advice.

*****

Well while I've been gone, we had some doctors appointments, got Halloween all figured out (subject for another day), I managed church by myself again, I read two and a half books (yeah, what? Remember this post about how I don't read?), I finally got all those nails cut, exercised a bit, and I even lost 5 lbs. Ok, I'm totally lying about that last part.

But anyway, yes, I never read. After reading so much lately I still have mixed emotions about it (like all the child neglect??). But one thing I find is that when I read so much I get way too much in book mode, and besides losing touch with reality and forgetting which is my real life and which is my alter-ego, it's like I really start narrating my own life. Like there's a constant stream of narraration running in my head.

She peeked around the door and did a quick check down the hallway. The coast was clear - good time to take a diaper out to the garbage chute. But perhaps someone would find it just the right time to leave their apartment. How unfortunate that would be, she thought as she quickened the pace of her bare feet. She was really hoping for an uneventful run to the garbage today, or at least anonymity she thought as she caught a glance of her reflection off the elevator door.
She knew that wasn't likely here at the Cite*. She was quite aware of the attention they drew almost everywhere they went here. The chic and single weren't used to seeing so many small children - especially not legitimately, and not all from the same mother. She could only imagine the rolled eyes as people passed their apartment. Certainly these thin walls didn't keep out all the crying and tantrums that went on inside. Living right by the door to the garage made for heavy traffic and she was all too sure everyone knew she lived here.
Such a mysterious lot in this building. Like the overly nonchalant lady across the hall. The one who was always "suddenly" fumbling with her key or fascinated with something in her purse every time they were in the hallway at the same time. Was she secretly keeping tabs on what she perceived as the grubby little family across the hall through the peephole? Did she really think she could indefinitely avoid greeting them as long as they lived across from her? Woah. Second glance. Yes, that was a subpoena on that woman's door today. All the more intriguing. Maybe she had her reasons for being mysterious.
Oh right, diaper, she remembered. If someone did come out now, would they notice that yes, those were still pajamas she was wearing, she wondered? Would someone come close enough to catch a whiff of the diaper she was throwing out? Did all those surveillance cameras keep tallies on this kind of thing? Was there a limit to the amount of fecal matter one apartment could contribute to the garbage bins in one day? She had actually calculated it, and was quite sure they produced more than any other condo in the building, hands down.
But then, would that passing stranger think it was just the diaper that smelled or would they be astute enough to wonder if she'd gotten in a shower yet today? And would they notice that she didn't even have a bra on yet? They were mostly childless around here, certainly no one would suspect the large spot on her shirt could be from milk leakage. Could they? With that she heard the elevator stop at the fourth floor. She threw in the rancid diaper and darted back in to her apartment before she had to come face to face with another one of Those Beautiful People. They would certainly not still be in their pajamas at three o'clock in the afternoon.

*Cite - name of our condo building. French (why? don't know). Pronounced sit-tay. Slogan:"In the mix. On the bay." Super chic and trendy. With one exception.

Granted, it does make my dull life seem a little more exciting. But then I can't seem to turn it off. She lamented.
See what I mean? She exclaimed, aggravated.

Soon

Ok, you guys are too funny. Just give me another week or so. I've got 60 nails to cut, have discovered gunk accumulating behind everyone's ears (even though I deliberately make sure to wash there), and chubs has something fungal or who-knows-what growing in his neck rolls. Besides that, I have to start taking the twins to physical therapy a few times a week because they're "delayed" (roll of the eyes). Aren't milestones that way because they're supposed to be averages? At any rate, hearing your kids are delayed isn't exactly a mood booster when you're already feeling like a lame mom, no matter how much you think they're still fine. Ain't nothing wrong with being just another pretty face, is there? They'll do stuff eventually....

Be back soon. (I won't add when I'm a little more on top of things because heaven knows that will never happen.)