Years ago, while I was studying for conversion to Judaism with my ex-husband and when were still in the land of "we'll have kids," we discussed holidays and observances. What we came to was that we would follow the Jewish holidays, and ignore the rest.

Years went by. The conversion never took place (after years of studying he became disillusioned with the community and his own lack of involvement in it). The kids never came to be. The marriage disolved. I went on my merry way at 35 (was it 35? 34? I dunno) and realised I was a much different person in the present than I had been in the past decade. I had reembraced my cultural winding path, and though I still identified as Jewish, I did not feel a need to convert and become Jewish. I retraced my Pagan path and found much there to celebrate. I found that my image and relationship to that which I consider to be the Divine is far too difficult and complex a thing to pin down to religion. I found that wanting children was a piece of my past, and that in my middle 30's I found it unlikely I would meet someone I wanted to have kids with in time to have them easily (I also wondered if I could have them after the years of not conceiving with my ex). I found that wanting a permanant relationship was not really a part of me anymore, either. It all came in fits and starts of trying and retrying. This is where I ended up, though.

All my questions of holidays and observances got put away in a box labeled "well, I don't have to think about that anymore, anyway." I did what felt right and ethical within my own structures. My own varied weirdnesses means I often lead a stricter life than what might assume.

Time went by.

I met Russell and found myself suddenly willing to have a true permanant partner. Having a child with him seemed reasonable. A few months later, I peed on a stick and got two lines. A few weeks after that and we learned that it would be two babies, not one. A few months after that and we married. Then the babies came and a whirlwind of sleep deprivation, bottles, diapers, spoons, baby jars, baby equipment, safety equipment and toys beyond measure became a part of everyday life.

So here I am, with a Christmas Tree, a lack of Yule Log (can't get to the fireplace as it's been blocked off to keep the kids out of it), and a Chanukkiah on the mantle with candles, dreidles and gelt awaiting. So far we've been adding a winter holiday a year for the kids. Last year we had Christmas, this year we have Christmas and Chanukkah (Solstice will be celebrated, but no Yule Log burned, as mentioned), next year Solstice with Yule Log. We have a multitude of traditions combining in a braid that reminds me much of challah.

Russell went through his own spiritual wanderings and has found himself at the end an Atheist. He's not dogmatic, and if deep in his cups will start rambling about the Nothing that is the force and matter of the universe. Whatever. He has his own thing. I have my own thing. They meld in the fact and belief that we want the kids to be exposed to as many different ideas as possible and be told quite cleanly to think for themselves and go on their own spiritual wanderings for Truth. No one else's answers are a good enough replacement for your own.

It's a far cry from where I was a decade ago. It is comforting and exciting, though. I am surprised by how touching I find it to blend these many traditions together. The Catholic upbringing of my youth and his, the Paganism that I find so supportive on an emotional level, the Judaism I often find so logical. One, two, three pieces of dough, laid out next to each other. Pinch them together at an end. Carefully braid them together, never too tight or it has no room to grow, pinch it together at the other end. Bake. Inside it is one. One loaf, though on the outside it is bumpy and lumpy. A challah of traditions and beliefs.

That is what my children inherit from their parents. A blending. A braid of traditions and ideas from which we draw. A thing that cannot be dissected and pulled apart to it's seperate parts again after baking. They will grow and find their own paths, their own ingredients to braid into the whole.

Things I have tried (and failed) to get the kids to eat in the last week:

scrambled eggs
scrambled eggs with cheese
spinach nuggets
chicken nuggets
meatballs
meatloaf
tater tots*
macaroni and cheese
macaroni and cheese with peas
macaroni and cheese with peas and blended beef
macaroni and cheese with peas and blended chicken
peas
peas with turkey bacon
sweet potato home fries
sweet potato french fries
mashed potato
mashed potato with gravy
spaghetti with bolognese
soy ice cream
rice and beans
rice and beans with cheese
rice and beans with cheese and beef
tortillas
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
raviolis
pasta shapes in tomato sauce
green beans
pears
mandarin oranges**
apple sauce
chunky apple sauce
graham crackers
peaches
wheat thin baked veggie crackers
organic baked cheesy poofs***
bananas
frozen waffles
frozen fruit of multiple variety
swiss cheese
cheddar cheese
sliced american cheese
yogurt of multiple variety

I have forced nothing on them. I have not short order cooked. I generally offer them two entree choices and if they want neither, then the later offered snack (2 a day) is bigger. I have given them a never ending supply of milk (lactose free), but try to limit it right during the meal unless they start actively freaking out crying about their inability to eat anything. I have given them hot things, warm things, tepid things, cool things and cold things. I have eaten portions hoping to entice them with the idea that it's the magical Mommy Food, offering off my plate with my spoon****, or with one of their spoons in case the metal bothered them. I have asked kindly for them to eat. I have shown no reaction when they chose to not eat. I have cuddled, soothed and held. I have offered tylenol and motrin (both generic, dye free or with dye, with different flavoring options).

I have done, in short, everything I know to do. They don't eat. A few bites maximum of foods they normally are about, no interest.

One of Jilly's molars is finally erupting and I can feel it just at the surface of the skin. The other is swollen but bumpy. The incisor that has not poked through on her remains beneath the surface, but poking at the skin. Philip refuses to allow me to feel his mouth, but what I have seen is the swollen. They both have light cheek rashes, and today the snotty nose (today was when Jilly's molar starting erupting, so I have hope that they are both at the same point).

Sleep is difficult for them both. They wake crying and need soothing, but fall asleep hard and what looks like gratefully when they can manage it. Both are accepting milk, and I've been adding a scoop or two of formula to the two bottles so that they're getting some semblance of nutrition while going through this.

I will be ever so grateful when they both have their full set of teeth. This is ugly.


*Hey, did you know that reading an article on early signs of autism while you'll feeling helpless and frustrated about stuff (the kids inability to eat being the issue) that a little thing like seeing your son stack his tater tot rounds instead of eat them can mildly freak you out? His stack only got two high before he got distracted by how easily tater tot rounds squish, so I think I'm safe for the moment.
**Something they generally love so much that I have to limit their intake of it or else they get pulp in their poo
***Almost the only thing we got them to eat while their mouths hurt during the blisters from Hand Foot and Mouth, and yes, we thought it was weird, too.
****Generally a huge treat and massively enticing.

I have Too much to do this December. A rough outline:


December 9th: couch is delivered
December 11th (well, 12th, but it's the night of the 11th): Hanukkah starts
December 12th: my sister's birthday
December 17th: woodstock area Mother's of Multiples night out (I run this, so I sort of have to go)
December 18th: Russell's company xmas party
December 21st: Winter Solstice
December 24th: Christmas Eve
December 25th: Christmas, leave for New Orleans to visit Russell's family in the afternoon
December 28th: SiL (brothers wife)'s birthday
December 31st: NYE (leave New Orleans next day)

Still to be done? Umm, everything. Hanukkah is already taken care of and put away until it's time. I even found gelt out here in the wilds of Woodstock. I haven't mailed cards, shopped for presents (outside of the kids, and suprisingly, Russell), worked on crafts, lined up a babysitter for Russell's party (Heather? you think you could do it?), written up a packing list to figure out how to transport two busy and needy toddlers and all their needed daily stuff 7 hours away in a car that just holds two single strollers, moved old couches to make room for new couch, etc. etc. With the kids teething and me sick Russell and I have been up to our armpits in just surviving the day. Let alone worrying about what comes next. I wrote up a list of people we needed to remember this season, and just writing the very essentials (family) ended up with having to get a second sheet of paper. Not only do I have no idea what to get people, but I have no idea when I would find the miraculous time to do it.

It's official, I am completely freaked out. I already feel like I bit off more than I can chew by saying that we WILL observe the Jewish holidays and Seasonal holidays (solistices, equinoxes, etc) in this house along with the cultural holidays. I feel like all of these things are part of who I am, though, and the kids should get a full picture. Nevermind what happens in a few years (read as: when they're 5 or so, I think) when I want them to start learning world mythology and we start incorporating even more dates of significance to world religions outside of Judaism, Paganism and Christianity (although neither of us are Christian, the Christian holidays are culturally part of our heritage). Now I have to add in the fact that this year has left us completely strapped for cash. Then add in that there has to be some way for us to celebrate holidays and birthdays of those who are super important to us. I'm lost. Given enough time I could make it work, but time has been lacking this year. I've just been on survival mode.

I don't know why, but I expect that next year will be easier. We aren't just surviving anymore (usually - teething sort of puts us back in that box temporarily), and I can take out time during the year to get this stuff done early and in bits and pieces instead of all at once.

I feel like everybody is getting the short end of the stick from me. I don't have time enough to devote to husband, children, family, friends, or even myself. I am spread super thin (good thing I'm fat or there seriously wouldn't be enough to go around). Nobody is getting as much as they need right now, and I'm about to go into hyperdrive just to attempt to achieve what I already know I can't. When it comes down to it, I shut off all the extras in any case. Everything outside of what my children need is extra. Priorities after that are Myself, my husband, my family (both my side and Russell's side, and those we have adopted as family), and then friends. When I keep coming up short after ticking off that first priority and there's so much left to do? I'm lost. I just don't know what to do at this point.

It seems like we've been in the thick of teething forever. Swollen scary looking gums and babies who don't want any food in their mouths has been an off and on norm for the last few months. It wasn't so worrying when milk was their main food, and then when it was still a lot of milk combined with pureed food. They're over pureed food now, and they only get bottles twice a day, though. They take about 3 or 4 sippy cups of 8 oz size full of milk a day, but don't necessarily drink it all. Jilly still finds the sippy's to be somewhat challenging. I think it's a matter of flow and size of mouth. She definitely has my small mouth and when she drinks from a sippy cup she gulps and stops and breathes and gulps and stops and breathes. Philip just drinks from it, so he's generally much better hydrated than Jill. I even changed his bottle nipples to reflect this and they are now the fastest flow they come in. She can't seem to drink from this type of nipple on her bottles at all, though. I can see that it might be way easier to wean him from bottles than it will be for her. He'll be ready sooner.
The question than comes: should I wean him off bottles (a comfort he enjoys) while his sister still gets to enjoy hers for longer. I definitely intend to have them both weaned off those last two bottles by the time they're two. I've been ruminating over eliminating the middle day bottle in the next month or so. They drink well enough from their sippy's that they don't necessarily need it, but doing without it is sort of scary. I have completely fallen into the trap of getting them to sleep by feeding them. The quicker I can eliminate that habit, the better they'll be. The healthier their teeth will be, too. It's just a bit daunting thinking about getting them to take that nap (something I do five time a week by myself) without a bottle to ease them into it. The night time one I actually fear less, even though everyone tells me that's the last to go, because I always have Russell with me to help put them to sleep. One baby/ one parent makes a ratio that is much easier to deal with.
At the same time I also know that as soon as I can get them to stop needing bottles for sleep, to soothe themselves into sleep on their own, the better the ability for us to farm them out to babysitters on occasion, or for me to leave them with Russell during naptime or at bedtime. As it stands, if we plan to have someone babysit, it usually means the kids won't sleep well, and won't really take that bottle from near anybody else. Plus, Russell has not learned the art of putting them to sleep on his own without me.

All of this is completely meaningless with them teething, though. With them teething they eat almost nothing and are nearly completely dependent on the bottles for their nutrition. So it's all just pie in the sky wonderings at this point.

Oh, I don't think I mentioned this, and I meant to. I'm fairly sure at this point that the kids are, in fact, language delayed.

This is not uncommon in twins, and in no way has anything to do with their gray matter. They've hit every other milestone perfectly and consistently.

They babble and will occasionally use a word or word combo correctly ("all done" when finished with a food, for instance), and occasionally sign (though their sign is a bit rugged, the "all done" sign that is a turn of the hands outwards is mimiced as more of a "byebye" wave), but consistent appropriate word usage is still elusive.

I'm not sure what to do about this. I guess I'll talk to the pediatrician at their next well baby and see what she recommends. Maybe they qualify for some intervention. I do know that I plan, already, for them to attend a MMO 2-3 days a week next school season. Partly because the one I'm looking at is so good and so cheap that it seems ludicrous to not take advantage of it, but also partly so the social and school interaction can help develop their language skills.

I'm not really in a place of worry about it. I expected it.

The kids are growing in leaps and bounds.

They are so regularly walking that they'll crawl for fun now, and find that it's slow and silly. It's definitely not the way to locomote.

Food is a major issue, and I suppose it will be for a long time. I'm often at ends trying to get food in them, especially vegetables. I don't really think they dislike veggies, it just doesn't come in their favorite ways to eat things. They'll eat fruit cups happily, for the most part, but still spit out parts that are too hard to macerate between their jaws. Pastas are fairly beloved by them and I can sneak in some pureed veggies into the sauces, often. I usually puree some protein as part of it, too. They definitely don't like things that have varied textures as part of it. Pastas should not be soupy but sauced. They'll eat nuggets, and Jilly likes meatballs, but that's about it. Thinking about picking up some broccoli cheese nuggets that Morningstar makes. I have hope that it'll be a nice change for them.

Jilly insists on feeding herself as much as possible, and is especially fond of using a spoon to do it. This is often somewhat hilarious because it means taking the spoon, dipping it in the bowl of whatever, getting some out, getting horribly excited that she did it and spraying the food everywhere in excitement, picking up the food and putting it back in the spoon and then trying to get it to her mouth while it falls everywhere, or giving it up and picking it up out of the spoon and putting it in her mouth with her fingers.

She definitely has an independent streak that loudly tells her to do things "right", and will keep at it until she can do it herself rather than have a grown up do it for her. I admire this, though worry (as per usual) that this will give her frustrations later that cause her to give up if she doesn't get desired results. It's a pretty regular problem for gifted kids everywhere.

Philip is still excited about the regular stuff and is very particular about what goes in his mouth. You have to give him time to sneak up on a food and try it on his own each time before he'll consent to you feeding it to him. He's a serious danger baby and nearly always has a bruise or bump on his head. He's also a fiend for hugs and kisses in a way that his sister is not. If she deems that she needs a hug, she comes to you, gets it, and mostly goes away once that need is satisfied. He'll linger. He'll cuddle and smile and hold. She's very affectionate, but it's a different affection. I enjoy both types tremendously.

They are both huge. Jilly is approaching a length that is more appropriate for 18 months than 13. Her waist is still somewhere between 9 and 12 months, though, so fitting clothes is hard for her. A lot of leggings and adjustable waistbands. Dresses are now possible because she doesn't really crawl and doesn't get stuck on them, but not so appropriate without leg coverings as it is so cold. Her top is definitely in the 18 month range, and 12 month shirts are starting to give her a bit of a belly showing. I've starting buying things closer to 18-24 month for her. Philip, on the other hand fits almost exclusively in 2T. He looks like a drunken frat boy if he wears a 12 month shirt because his "beer" belly leads the stumbling way, and that's only if the neckhole was big enough for his humongous melon to get through - which is pretty rare. 18 month shirts mostly don't fit his head, either. His length is more appropriate for 18 months, but his waist rarely fits anything smaller than 24. I roll the cuffs and let him run around. Nothing is purchased smaller than 2T for him, and I'm probably going to start buying shirts in 3T.

Their feet are big, she's mostly in a size 4 (toddler sizes) shoe but growing into a 5. He's really in a size 5 Wide, but it's hard to find it wide enough even at that, and I have to go up to 6. I prefer to let them run barefoot, but weather is not permitting this outside anymore, so he lives in shoes outside that aren't really the right size for his feet. The curse of wide feet with high insteps is big in my family, and looking at Russell's feet, I can see it's there, too. So far, Jilly is just showing a teence of wide foot that doesn't matter too much, a regular wide shoe will probably always be her future, but that's not impossible to find. I think Philip's going to be harder. My dad wore a EEE most of the time, and I think that's Philip all over. Baby shoes really aren't made for such things. Shoe manufactures seem to think wide feet are because you're fat and that's only in the land of adults. Philip isn't fat. He's just huge. He's going to be pudgy always if I can't keep him engaged in movement, though. Jilly may or may not be. Looking at my family, it's hard to see how she can escape fat, but I can do what I can to give her a gift that I have that seems to be rare amongst fat people - I don't think it makes me suck. I'm okay with my body shape. It's mine. It makes me attractive to some people, and not attractive to others, but that's true of any body shape. Eat healthy, stay engaged in movement, love yourself and don't let other people's judgement matter.

I know I'm supposed to feel this way no matter what, but I think they are both incredibly good looking kids. They don't have weird features that make for unique beauty (except for Jilly's long neck), but have an evenness of feature and shape that I think is pleasant and pretty.

They are growing and becoming their own people, and I love them more each day.

As you know, I have twins. When I found out I was carrying twins, I did what any book nerd would do, and read every single thing I could on the subject. I became as much an expert as a layperson with no medical background could be.

The one thing that seemed certain? These children would be born early. Most twins are.

At 26 weeks I spent two days getting a hormone shot that would help the babies growing inside me develop their lungs early.

At 35 weeks they were born.

My daughter had been practice breathing on her own for a week or more by then. My son was less lucky. Although he was the bigger twin (born 6 lbs .3 oz to his sister's 5 lbs 4 oz) he was a boy. He was born first, but I didn't hear his cry.

When he was taken from me in an emergency c-section he wasn't breathing at all. He was blue and unresponsive. Nurses and doctors massaged him. They gave him oxygen. His cry finally sounded after his sister was born. He cried first, but only by a second or two.

My daughter was handed to us near immediately. My son was shown to us and then ushered off to the NICU. He was given antibiotics through a line that was pure tape from his tiny little hand to his shoulder. He was hooked to oxygen and had a sensor on his foot that seemed to go off every few minutes.

Yet. Yet...

He spent one and only one night in the NICU. The next day the doctors deemed him healthy. Capable of living, of joining his sister in a tiny bed next to mine. His lines would stay in, but his oxygen wasn't necessary anymore.

Three days after being born, my 35 weekers came home with me. They had a few more problems, but all of them have been solvable. We had one more hospital stay at two weeks when he continued to lose weight instead of gaining back what he started at.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

They are a year old now. They walk around the house carrying their toys and crowing happily. They giggle when I blow on their tummy. In short, they live. They live when so many other babies in their situation didn't.

I'm not special, I'm lucky. They received care using the collected knowledge of years of research into preemie babies. This research was mostly done by the March of Dimes. All of it was inspired by them, though. The March of Dimes said "no more" to babies being born who didn't survive. They've worked at eradicating the many disabilities faced by premature babies half a century ago. They didn't accept that that was just how things are, they fought.

I can't help but feel that they fought for my babies. I can't help but feel grateful when I hear my son screeching joyfully when he was so silent at birth. I can't help but feel grateful when I see my daughter look at her brother and simply giggle with happiness at the
mere sight of him.

All mothers should be so lucky. The March of Dimes is working at making that true. Already it's true for more than ever before.

Thank you, March of Dimes.

The kids are doing some major hating on food lately, as I've already mentioned.

I'm trying to cope with it by giving them choices, but not too many. I don't really know how well this is working. At each of their three meals I offer them three to four choices in food offerings, and they typically eat one to three of those choices. Snacktimes they get offered two choices, and generally eat one of them. Plenty of milk in sippy cups to try to make up the missing calories. I absolutely have refused to make a whole new meal for them, though. This is backfiring on me, somewhat, though, as they keep tending to just not want to eat, and then when they are offered something they have deemed desirable for that day (who knows what it'll be on that day, because foods they find awesome one day they completely eschew the next - the only thing they haven't ever taken off the list so far is spaghetti with meat sauce... I'm starting to wonder if I should just feed them spaghetti three times a day...) they completely overeat it. On a basically empty stomach. This is leading somewhere sort of obvious.

Three times in the last week we have had the kids puke after a too-much meal. It's hard for me to figure out at what point I should stop letting them have any because the amounts are the same as a regular meal, but after a picky day the results of a regular meal on their tummy is causing the vomit to fly.

Last night's was particularly awesome. Jilly chowed down on spaghetti for dinner, was given her bottle at bedtime and then puked spectacularly all over Russell. Since I have been the focus for the last three puke-a-ramas (including Jilly's bout while she was sick), I couldn't help myself but laugh. My husband, and bed, are covered in milk and little pieces of spaghetti and I'm doing quick and effective damage control and snickering as silently to myself as possible. Russell held Jill while I got new pajamas for her, a few towels, and looked for new sheets (it turned out that the clean sheets were still waiting to be laundered, so a quick trip to the store for a third set of sheets for our rotation was necessary).

I have to figure out more recipes that the kids will eat. If y'all don't mind, please give me your kid friendly recipes.

I'm not going to pretend or think this is an omen of how things will be. I don't think this is a trend. I don't believe this is anything but today, right now. I have to make a note of it, though. I have to say this happened.

Last night the kids slept from when we layed them down at their bedtime to 6:30 this morning. Not a single time did we have to go in their room to comfort them. Two times in the night did they make a noise that I checked on, but as soon as I was in their room, they were asleep again.

We have been fortunate enough to not do cry it out or ferberize them or anything (I say fortunate because, although I never want to do these things, who knows what the future will bring). We haven't even really used any sleep method other than the BabyWhisperer Wake to Sleep a couple times to reset when they woke up or to help them get through needing bottles in the night. We've only done that twice for a three nights.

This is not a triumph, it's not how things will be. I've learned enough to know that one night does not make a future. Three nights doesn't, even. Nothing does, precisely. It's just that little triumphs must be noted. Raising a baby is hard, raising twins moreso. So, today has a good start. Yay today!

Somebody told the kids that they're a year old and that with their walking, they're officially toddlers.

Their eatings patterns are completely in the land of "huh?" now. Yesterday they ate an egg with cheese, some peaches, a half a yogurt, some applesauce and two chicken nuggets each. Also, lots of milk. Today, they each eschewed the cheesy eggs that they've been on about for a week and ate a tiny bit or orange, a few puffs, half a yogurt, a couple crackers, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and 4 chicken nuggets each. We haven't even done dinner yet. Who knows what they'll deem foodworthy. The days of them happily and willingly eating most everything I put in their mouth that they can actually chew are long gone. Philip has a stronger sweet tooth than Jilly, and Jilly likes stronger, more distinct flavors than Philip. She'll eat something spicy until it starts to overwhelm her, but really enjoy it until then (well, spicy for a year old kid, not that spicy to me). Philip will turn his head and refuse to eat until he can sneak a bit on his own. Both long to use the spoons themselves, but given spoons end up only decorating their surroundings. Finger foods are enjoyed. Chewing on fresh veggies or fruits still seems to be mostly beyond them, though. I keep hoping that molars will change that.

Of course, asking for molars means going through getting them. I keep having false alarms with Philip getting molars, but he hasn't gotten any yet. Jilly has some time to go, though she did sneak in an incisor during the whole hand, foot and mouth blistery badness. So, she's up to seven teeth to Philip's eight.

They have the sweetness of toddlers, too. The spontaneous hugs, kisses and giggles. For each other and for mommy and daddy. They also have some pretty hardcore willfullness happening. My way, now. It's all to the good. Part of developing who they are as individuals, and I enjoy watching it happen, even if it is frustrating on occasion.

Dinnertime, then bathtime, then reading, then bed now. The nighttime ritual starts.

Dear god on high, I am freaking tired of the suggestion that you are actually abusing your child if you don't breastfeed.

Look, it should work for every mother. It should work for every baby. It doesn't. Sometimes it fails. Sometimes it fails for reasons of biology of either mother or baby. These babies would have simply died in the past. Screw me for suggesting that it's awesome that they don't have to die anymore.

Beyond that, though, for mother's who just say "screw this, it's interfering with my ability to have a relationship with my baby," I'm going to go out on a limb and say something controversial, "I don't care." That's right, I don't care. If a mother goes into being a mother with the expecation that she won't breastfeed, I don't give even half of a shit, either. There are bigger fish to fry. Is she going go hit, neglect or hurt her baby? No? Than I don't care.

A little bit more compassion. A little bit less judgement. A little bit more expecation that other mother's also want to do the very best for their kids the same as you do. A little bit more understanding that there are not two babies that are alike. Not two mother/child relationships that are alike. A little bit less condemnation. A little less guilt that we pile on ourselves and each other.

To make it perfectly clear, especially since this came up recently on here, this is not aimed at anyone on my flist. Y'all are fairly sweet and good people and follow the basic thoughts in that last paragraph. This vitriol is spilt from Circle of Mom's where a woman stated that her 13 month old daughter has reflux and gastro intestinal disorders. Her Gastrointestinal Doctor suggested that she discontinue breastfeeding in this case. The reflux has already resolved itself (as it often will, especially with the help of breastmilk for such a good long time), but the child is still in great pain daily. So another woman went into how discontinuing bfing is just the worst possible thing she could do after I opined that it isn't a crisis if that is what she has to do and it works, especially since we are talking about a child that got to breastfeed for over a year. She responded back that I was just dead wrong and that it's absolutely and positively a crisis and must not happen. This pissed me off. The end.

Yesterday we took out the baby bumpers since they are now simply providing a foothold upon which to climb over the cribside. The problem is the kids squish them down and use them as pillows. They're a year old, and all my searching online has taught me that you shouldn't give kids under a year pillows because of SIDS, or over a year pillows because it messes with their growth. Well, the kids are already using pillows (re: the bumpers). So, I knew I wanted pillows for them. A grown up sized pillow is just too darn big, though. So I went looking for pillows that were flatter, and more their size. Found some that came complete with a zipper so I could adjust the fill (and I did, taking out over half of it in each pillow). Found some fabric that I dug, and made pillowcases for each kid's pillow. Each pillowcase has a pocket for future tooth collection. I put the pocket in the wrong place for her, but I dunno that I'll bother fixing it as it doesn't really matter.

So, here they are:

This week has been bad for everyone in my house. My husband and children both got the flu. This then led into them having hand foot and mouth, which led into me having hand foot and mouth (how does a grown-up get hand foot and mouth, gosh I have no idea, said as I have my son and daughter stick their drool slick hands into my mouth for the billionth time today, despite me constantly moving their hands away when they try).
This led to little sleep, lots of fevers, lukewarm baths, medicine elixers mixed (half children's benedryl/half mylanta), babies being given chocolate milk from oral syringes just to get some damn liquid in them and hey, it seems to also get them to trust that the oral syringe is not always full of that icky medicine which I can cut with chocolate milk, too... Hmmm, almost no food eaten (we're now trying to eat the last of the babyfood jars as we are now really on table food, but the painful mouth and throat set us back badly), and hey just when we thought we wouldn't have to buy formula anymore, we have to buy more because the kids ate nothing all day and they need calories and liquid. In the middle of all of it was daylight savings time. Adding an hour into already schedule harrassed babies lives is not easy.
All in all it sucked.
We're on the other side. The blisters are starting to disappear (I have a few on one foot and one on my hand, I expect mine to be gone about two days after all theirs are gone). The schedule is starting to normalize again. Diapers are starting to look normal again. The kids are going stir crazy, and have torn up every inch of downstairs they can get to (which we put back together again every night).
In their boredom they have figured out how to climb onto the couches. Getting the couches replaced has become a bigger priority as right now they are fairly dangerous for little ones; the construction is failing on them pretty hardcore. They seem to have developed some more normal eating habits because of this sickness. No longer do they want the massive three meals they were eating but now eat three regular sized meals and two to three snacks. This is a lot healthier for them, so I'm encouraging it.

They almost never crawl anymore and shuffle around on their feet quite happily. Bending over to pick up toys is easy for them, as is carrying two toys at a time - something that I was led to believe they would have to work at for a while. Drinking crom a sippy cup is fine and happy for them. Eating table food is definitely on the menu. Yup, they're officially toddlers. It seems to have happened overnight.

Jilly has developed some nasty feelings about Daddy going to work everyday. She throws a fit in the mornings when he puts on his shoes, and at night spends most of her bedtime routine throwing a fit about being near Daddy. She works at prolonging that routine as long as possible, which is ridiculous as she is worn out at this point of the day. If they can start sleeping in until 8:30, we can push their bedtime routine back an hour, but waking up at 7:30 means they are exhausted by 6 when the whole dinner/bath/story/bottle/bed shuffle starts (ending at 7:30 with them asleep in their cribs).
As it is, keeping them in their cribs until 7 has become a bit of a struggle. They woke upa t 6:30 this morning, and started making wake up sounds. No crying, just "hey, what's up? I'm up! Yay!" sounds. Their cribs are back to back and they entertain each other fairly okay. Jumping, "talking", playing with the crib mirror toys, and just generally hanging out with each other. I let them do this until 7:30 this morning, at which point Russell has to get up and start getting ready for work.
So, he got up, waited for me to put on clothes and join him and together we take the kids downstairs. This morning he says, "um, Janel, you might want to see this..."

And at this point, things get gross. ( (snippity snip) )

I put up an album of Philip and Jillian's first birthday party pictures on my facebook. Here.

You should be able to see it even if you aren't on my facebook. Enjoy.

We're getting through the sick.

Jilly started presenting a fever last night (103.4, just .2 degrees lower than Philip the previous day). The doctor told us to expect it, and what to do. So she went into a cool (not cold, think pool temp.) bath, and her fever dropped to 100.2. We started overlapping tylenol and motrin so that she always has one working in her system, and started giving her benedryl with mylanta mixed in to soothe the developing blisters in her throat. We pushed liquids all night long, and she gave us one heck of a diaper this morning.
As did Philip. His fever is broken, and he is only on the benedryl/mylanta mixture now. He's presenting blisters around his mouth now. Poor thing. All in all, though, he seems a lot better. I think the flu has worked through his system and all that's left is the hand foot and mouth.
Having both at the same time is insane.

Before anyone thinks this is the treatment plan for their kid if they get this, back up. We were given orders. We were told it was viral and that there isn't anything to do but let it run it's course. Unless they stop drinking, their fevers refuse to reduce, or they seem truly off (that's a delicate line for a new parent to watch.. of course they seem off. I know what is meant, though. Unresponsive, dazed, non stop crying, etc.) there's nothing a hospital can do. These are viruses. They do not have booster shots that work for hand foot and mouth because of the nature of the RNA strands (that's my understand, you with degrees can correct me). Flu is iffy with shots. They got the first half of H1N1 at their 1 year check up, I'm supposed to take them in in November for the second half. We would have done flu shots this year, but the whole thing took us by surprise. It was quick, and dirty. Even if we had gotten them, it's no guarantee that it would have been the right strain for this year.

You should vaccinate where you can. We no longer lose babies to smallpox except where vaccinations were refused or unavailable. We no longer have to have kids suffer (and some die every year) from chickenpox as myself and my husband did when we were young. We can't eradicate all viruses currently. It's a heckuva long time before that's even forseeable. We're talking long, here. We don't have to lose as many as we once did, though. We don't have to have as many made permanantly disabled as we once did. Vaccinations are safe in most instances. The alternatives are nasty. A world where populations die out. A world where you watch your baby breathe it's last through a febrile seizure.

I'm thankful that the medical care is available to us. I'm angry that it's not available to more. I'm angry that parents have to make health decisions for their babies based on econimic ability.

You know what, though? I'm also angry that people go out when they're sick. That they take their babies out when they're sick. Ours are over a year and able to withstand the medications that are needed to help them. If they were under 6 months, we would have our hands tied. We would be in a hospital watching them IV our kids and desperately doing whatever they could to reduce their fevers that mostly doesn't involve chemical medicine. All because some parent saw that they're kid was sick and didn't think it was a big deal. I'm pretty sure we caught this on Wednesday at a playplace. You'll have a hard time convincing me to let the kids use those in the future. My kids will believe their mother is mean because they can't remember being sick. They can't see the germs. The decisions you make for your children often seem harsh like that. Mommy is a meanmommy. That's okay. I can take being mean. I just wish more parents were a little proactive in their meanness. Also, a little bit better educated on medical reality.

The kids are sick. It's a common childhood illness, but definitely scary. They have stomatitis, specifically, hand foot and mouth, which is a coxsackie A virus. We knew they had something, but then Philip spiked a fever at 103.6 and we ran to the CHOA immediate care facility down the street from us. The doc was plenty surprised to find his throat covered in sores, as he's had no blisters on his hands, feet or around his mouth. She figured it was just a flu. She then amended to "oh, a flu, and, hey, this sucks, too..." We know it's a flu in addition because they were already sick before. Jilly just has the sick right now, but the doc is expecting her to start blistering sometime in the next couple days.

This coincides with all sorts of stuff, but I'm worn out. So, updates later.

"Tuesday's child is full of grace..."

Grace: the exercise of love, kindness, mercy, favor; dispostion to benefit or serve another; favor bestowed or priviledge conferred.

One year and 6 days ago Philip and Jillian came into this world. It was a Tuesday. Every Tuesday for a year, give or take, move it backwards and forwards a little, I have chronicled their growth. They are indeed full of grace.

My friend Caroline is welcoming her daughter, SarahJane, into this world today. Also a Tuesday. Her husband Dru, her life partner Xia and her son Trey are gathering now. May she also bring grace to your family and life, Caroline.

Today the babies I gave birth to are 1 year old.

They eat mostly table food, minced or made small for them. They get two 8 oz. bottles a day. They get one nap a day. Their bedtime is 7 PM. They are waking up at 7 AM. Jillian wears 12 month clothes, mostly. As long as the waist is adjustable, as she has a very small waist. Philip wears 24 months clothes, mostly. Mostly with the legs rolled. If the waist is adjustable he can wear 12 month or 18 month. At least two, but often three 8 oz. sippy cups a day each. They both walk. A small, but weird vocabularly is present. The normal words are present, mama, dada, no. Also, though, they say all done, duck, death. Lot's of "d" words.

Philip is very ticklish. Jilly likes to be upside down. Jilly has never given up her love of blankets, and will stroke them when stressed or tired. She also still loves her binky. Philip only goes to the binky when stressed or hurt. I haven't been able to train him on a lovey object, so he turns to Mommy when he is most stressed or tired. Both are insane about Daddy.

Jilly has a smile that is bright and mostly in her eyes. Philip's smile is all mouth and cheeks. Philip got his father's complete lack of neck (this baby has no neck), but Jilly has a beautiful long neck that is quite surprising in a baby.

Jilly has 6 teeth, four incisors on the bottom and tro cental incisors on the top. Philip has 8, all incisors.

They have light blondish hair with hints of brown here and there. It's still quite sparse, but definitely hair. Philips eyes are a greyish blue. Jilly's are a bright blue.

Jilly has a taste for spicy foods and strong flavors.

Both love music, and dancing. Books are often picked up and brought to Mommy for reading.

Philip loves balls. Anything round that he can bounce or roll is favored above near all things. He also likes to stack and insert things, though.

Philip uses the ASL for "all done" when he is finished eating. Jilly vocalizes it.

The facts don't really add up to who they are. They can't. The smell of them, the sight of them, the sound of them, it's all intangible and hard to explain. All the pretty words in the world don't add up to them.

Now that we have a year under our belt, I might be a bit more lackaday about keeping up a week by week. I'm not any less in love with them, just, the changes are less physical things things that are easy to quantify. They're more about the intangibles of their personalities now. The day to day of learning how to live with toddlers. Being their Mommy is less in my head while physically working, and more about interacting with them with my head, too, now. It's both harder and easier. Challenging and rewarding, I move into the next year knowing fuckall what I'm doing. Yay!

Today is the last day of their first year. I don't really think I can say anything more about that. It's too big to encapsulate in pretty words.

Due to diminishing returns on naps, I have started them on a 1 nap a day schedule. An afternoon nap. We had just gotten to the point where it would take 20 to 40 minutes to put them down for each of their two naps. One nap would be great and last maybe an hour to two hours. The other would last maybe a half hour. Yesterday was our first day of this schedule and it went fairly well. They had a yucky night, though. I had to run to Target to get some formula for the week*. Russell was left in charge of sleeping babies while he was cooking a pot of chicken rice soup. About 20 minutes into my 1 hour away from home Philip had some sort of horrible night time disturbance and started screaming. Russell ran upstairs, but not before Philip woke up Jilly, who started screaming, too. So there he was with two screaming babies that both needed comforting from their now hysterical crying and screaming. For 40 minutes he tried everything and then out of desperation called me. I told him to turn on the light (which he did), since they were now absolutely 100% awake and freaked out, put both kids in one crib so he could hug on both (which he didn't). Then I rushed my bootie home. Together we managed to put both back to sleep within 20 minutes.

We're hoping that was just a weird occurance and not a result of the new napping schedule. No repeat performance, please. Both kids slept in until 7 today. This I would like repeat performances of, thank you very much. If they're going to be going on one nap a day then they need to sleep later. I've been a little unsure about the chicken/egg nature of it, but I am hoping that they're a little bit reset now. As of 10 AM today they seem wide awake and happy. Seeing as how this is normally when I would start their morning nap, I'm taking this as a good sign.

They also ate wonderfully this morning and I am pleased as punch at how normal most of their meals can be nowadays. Breakfast was a blueberry yogurt split between them, two fried eggs (one egg per kid), and a thick slice of sourdough toast buttered and spread with strawberry preserves, along with a sippy cup of kids fortified chocolate soy milk.

I'm very much looking forward to this 1 nap a day schedule getting firmed up. It means more trips out into the world. Especially with them walking now. I'm feeling a little bit wry about the fact that their ability to truly enjoy a playground is coinciding with the start of what looks to be one of the coldest winters in Georgia that we've seen in a long time... but, eh. I'll buy snowpants and parkas if I have to. I absolutely refuse to let this get me down and keep me cooped up in the house.

*In the past formula purchasing was insane. It would take 2-3 cans of powdered formula per baby every week to get through. So I tended to buy bunches at a time. Now that we're going through a little bit less than a can a week for each baby I've gotten a bit more lackadaisical in my purchasing habits. I can be caught off guard when we're low. You can bet your bottom dollar that if the doc says I no longer need to use formula after Friday (their 1 year check up) I won't be.

This weekend is the party. We've gone with a halloween theme, and damn it, I will most likely continue to do so until the kids are all "um, hey mom, really, stop." So costumes and monster abound.

They have been doing a lot of walking lately. Lots of supported walking with pushing toys, and lots free. They hold their hands high in the air when they walk unsupported. As if to crow that age-old child call, "look Ma! No hands!"

I think back to my childhood about how beautiful my mother was to me. There is a picture I took, long lost, of her on a family vacation. She sits at a table. It is early morning or early night, the light is soft. She has her head in her hands, and a wry smile on her face. Her hair is short and curled, a brown halo around her face. Exhaustion leaks from every pore of her. It was taken in Placerville visiting the Hamburgs, a family we maintained ties with for many years. Looking back the context of those vacations is overwhelming. My parents marriage was hard. More said won't really put a perspective on it. So I'll leave it there. It was hard. These vacations were a visit away from that life. A time when they could be happy together as a family in harmony, rather than the daily dischordant rhythms of our home life. The Hamburgs had been next door neighbors for us for a time, and when they moved to Placerville it gave us a wonderful excuse to get away on a regular basis. I think of those times as our happiest family times. That picture of my mother at her happiest in my youth. That is what "mother" looks like to me. Sad, happy, exhausted, soft.

They are delighted with my tongue ring and often stick out their tongues as if to ask me to stick out mine so they can see my adorned tongue, then giggle wildly. Philip has even grabbed his tongue looking for his own tongue ring. When you're in your thirties, son, you can think about it. Jilly turns my head and touches my nose ring delicately, her eyes bright with curiosity. They shake their heads in imitation of my own shaking of my multi colored hair over their faces. To them, this is what "mother" looks like.

Looking back on this year I'm amazed and blown away. I have learned to do the impossible. To give beyond what is possible. To live on less. Less sleep. Less time for yourself (did I say "less?" What I mean is "none."). Less food (time to stop to eat? um, no). Less clothes (I'd way rather have my kids dressed nice than me). Less friends (man is having kids an isolating experience, fortunately it also opens the door to other people - fellow parents). Less concern for myself in general.
Also to live on more, though. More love. More confidence in your abilities. More wonder. I am completely in awe of my children. They are unique snowflakes. Every single thing they learn for the first time amazes me. I am enchanted by their babbling. Bewitched by their kisses and hugs. Bespelled by their expressions and body language. Completely done in by the smell of their sweet heads as they lay them of their own volition against my neck. How can I pretend this is not a unique experience? It has been done time and time again. Babies going back to the dawn of time have delighted their parents. No less is the magic of it, knowing that, though. Philip is not the first baby to sway and bend to the sound of rhythm and music with a smile splitting across his entire face. Jillian is not the first baby to stand on her head with her wide eyes peeking between her legs showing her simple joy in a world made upside down. They are the first thems, though. They are the first and only babies I will ever raise.
I am fiercely proud and protective of them. Joyful of their accomplishments, comforting their sadnesses. Every breath they take is important to me. Every step. Every everything.

There was a time before this. Before I had children. I was a child, a girlfriend, a single woman, a wife, a single woman again. All of that has faded away. None of it feels all that real. Like some sort of dream that was interesting. It's not that it was bad, really. Just that it feels like sepia colored Kansas to the technicolor Oz I live in now. There are fairies here. Queens and witches. Talking animals and enchantments. Princes. My husband, the children, my children, have remade the world. I am completely absorbed in the beauty of this world they are making. It is magic at it's most primal, and I am under their spell.