5 Months

The babies were 5 Months old on Saturday!  I'm too tired to run through all the magical new things they do but that information is forthcoming. In the meantime, enjoy all these pictures of my little awesome nuggets.

One Year

A year ago today I succumbed to husbandly peer pressure and peed on a stick.

And our lives were never the same....

Respect My Authoritah!

This morning we had THE TALK with our nanny. When I was young, single, and cute I would have called it a DTR. Or "Define The Relationship" talk. (On a side note,  I think this is a term stolen from my friend Carolyn over beers and coded girl talk.)

Last night I called it the Come to Jesus talk. And, thankfully, I didn't have to whip out the big guns (ahem- threat of termination, mean faces, power fists, or screaming "You can't handle the truth!"). Old girl knew she's missed too much work and brought it up first thing this morning. Thankfully, I was able to put off the conversation until after I was done pumping. Because, let's face it, it's a little hard to be all managey and "Respect my Authoritah!" while you're strapped to a milker. I was going for something a little like this:

Not so much this:

And it went well. We were all:

* You're gonna run outta time and then whatcha gonna do?
* Life happens but your life is farting all over our lives and it smells like eggs. Eeeewww
* We rely on you like Old Reliable. And you're all, like, UNreliable
* If your life keeps you from doing this job, maybe you need a new job (oh no I di-int)
* Respect my authoritah!  (ps. I hate Southpark but I love this line)

And then she was all:

* I won't use all my time
* I shouldn't have taken off Friday
* I need to grow up (She actually said this)
* I want to grow up to be JUST like YOU. You're my hero and like, the best.mom.EVAH! (She did not actually say this)
* Omarosa made me do it

Brendan & I felt better afterward. And when I got home from work we had great communication. So here's hoping that it all works out and we run off into the sunset together. And in the meantime, I get to put this guy back in my pocket-

The Nanny Diaries

So I typically subscribe to a "don't talk shit about people on the Internet" philosophy. However, I'm just so over our current situation that I don't even care if our worthless nanny reads this.

Here's the story. I went back to work 6 weeks ago. Before that we posted an ad for a nanny on care.com. We had 60 responses in just a few days (read: our nanny is easily replaced). We chose our nanny because she was awesome with the kids and seemed the best equipped to take care of them. Allow me to emphasize:

SHE IS GREAT WITH THE KIDS

But here's what we're running into:

* Poor personal boundaries. Old girl likes to overshare. I know all about how she's in counseling with her boyfriend, how her mom messed her up, her financial problems, (insert uncomfortable conversation topic here), health problems, etc. Oh, and let's not forget how she suggested to my husband that we have "birthday sex" on my birthday. Um......

* She's had all kinds of car issues the first couple weeks and ended up having to work a bunch of shortened days to take care of them

* She took a day off to get registered for school. This wasn't a big deal because my mom was in town & was able to watch the kids. But then she didn't get her school stuff taken care of and asked for a second day off to do her business.  Sigh.

* She's come in twice saying she **might** not be able to work because she was feeling sick. One day was last week when she came in hyperventilating & upset, saying she might need to go to the ER for her asthma. 15 minutes later she was fine...

* Friday she called us crying because her dog was sick and she needed the day off to take him to the vet. When she came by to get her paycheck she mentioned she was going to hang out with her boyfriend who had the day off.

* Today she called in sick

Allow me to say that my tolerance for drama is minimal. I have a enough stress in my life and having a crazy unhealthy employee to deal with is the last thing I need. Unless you are paying me by the hour, I don't want your drama.

 Jesus will show you his power fist if you don't shape up

So, I'm starting to plan for Plan B. Brendan wants to have a Come to Jesus tomorrow and give her a chance. Why? She has one redeeming quality.

SHE IS GREAT WITH THE KIDS. Oh yeah, and she's a nice person. A hot mess. But nice.

Too bad nice doesn't keep you employed...

If Coffee Were a Woman

...and I were an unattached lesbian, than I would totally tongue kiss it.

Actually, due to the inherent nature of coffee, I DO tongue kiss it. 

Every.Single.Morning. 

And it is awesome.  

(Can you tell the babies were up very early this morning? Oh yeah, and it's Monday. Puke on Mondays)

I Pawned My Superman Cape

I tried to think of a clever title for this one and all I came up with were trite cliches. Puke on cliches.

So, I've got this little problem. I seem to be a little over-extended. It seems that taking on motherhood, twins, a full-time job, building a private practice, and trying to lose weight while still being a good wife, friend, sister, and daughter can make you feel like you've got a case of  the "too much"'s and "too little"'s.

Too much work
Too many jobs
Too many chores
Too long to-do lists
Too many responsibilities
Too much baby weight

Too little time
Too little motivation
Too little energy
Too little sleep

And just like that punk kid, Goldilocks, I realize that happiness sometimes lies where adulthood ends. Pay attention to the child's stuff and everything is juuuuust riiiiiight.

My Wicked Awesome Fantasmagorific Camera

Behold the awesomeness that is my camera!!! It's a Nikon D5000 SLR. Okay, so I don't really know how to use it and it's basically a glorified point-and-shoot until I can figure it out. Until then, I'm still going to post a zillion pictures.

Sleepy Sleeperson

Finn doesn't like to nap. He wants to be awake. I imagine it's so he can socialize. He wants to work the room- ask people about their thoughts on Teebone Tebow, and fill their glasses with wine (even at 9am). Too bad Finn doesn't recognize that when he's tired he's a hot baby mess and nobody wants to be within 10 feet of him (or a mile, for that matter- It's about how far you have to go to escape his decible exploding scream).

But when he's asleep, he sure is a cutie.... It almost makes me want to wake him up so I can munch on his cheeks. Almost....

:: Insert Vomit-Inducing Cutiepie Picture Here::

(I'm afraid I got a totally kick-ass DSLR camera for Mother's Day and am still in the process of learning how to use it and ::ahem:: finding the cord to upload pictures. You will get your fair share of munchable cheek pictures, so simmer down)

Yo Mamma's So Ugly

There's an ugly side to the postpartum life that isn't highly publicized. We all know about postpartum depression and the dreaded "Baby Weight," but I'm here to tell you there's another side of Mommyhood that ain't so pretty.

Night Sweats: I take back every mean and insensitive thing I ever said or thought about menopausal women. I ::may:: have thought some things were "in the head." As a result, I think Karma really walloped me a good one with a nightly outpouring of body tears for hormonally bereft women everywhere. There's nothing like waking up & having to change your pajamas in the middle of the night or shivering in your own sweaty grossness.

Stretch Marks: A lot of moms get them during pregnancy. Miracle of miracles, I didn't- despite having a belly the size of the Moon. But lo & behold, 2 babies, 4 months, and 40 lost pounds later, I have one. What the..??? He lives on my right side. I call him Bob.

Hair: Despite the obvious grooming challenges of being a full-time workerbee & clueless mom, my hair has encountered another source of its tragic existence. Hair Loss. Apparently, this is what happens when you shoot babies out of your body, but it doesn't get a lot of attention. When your shedding baseline is already Golden Retriever, it doesn't seem like there is far to go. Enter motherhood. If I continue at this rate, I will look like either Mr. Clean or The Donald with my kickass combover.

The Girls: (You know I love to talk about them) Things have taken a dark turn in my relationship with le bosom. I don't know if it's weight loss or cutbacks in the milk farm but the old fun bags are plum out of fun.  And it happened really quickly- almost overnight. They went from being nice and sociable, greeting everyone they met, to spending all their time looking at the ground for spare change.

I'd love to get into a nice rage over this one (form a support group, start a petition to God, etc) but the truth is, I knew all this would likely happen...and I didn't care. And honestly, I still don't. I'll walk around with my sidekick Bob, my bald head, jiggly body, and downtrodden chesticles like a Badge of Honor. Because my kids are worth it.

Fat Guy in a Little Coat

My mom is in town. (Yay for Grandmas!!!) One of the great things about grandmas is they have the energy to dress up babies. (Yay for Baby Fashion!!!) Don't get me wrong. I love baby clothes the way I love cake- like, a lot. But when you're just trying to make it through the day, playing "What Not to Wear" for babies doesn't fall high on the priority list. Twin mommyhood means we sport fashion shmashion (interpretation: whatever onesie or pajamas are closest)

Apparently, I see the babies like this:

When really they look like this:

And so a day with Grandma means I come home to babies not only wearing spiffy outfits but spiffy outfits I firmly believed were way too big.  I could've sworn the babes would "maybe" fit into these clothes in a few months....Maybe....Yeah, no way....These nuggets are going to be bite-sized forever.  So Grandma saved the day, saved the babies from being squeezed into preemie clothes, and given this New Mom a good dose of Reality Testing. It's a good thing, because my children were going to turn into this:

4 Months Old!

The babies are 4 months old! YAY! And woooeeee, they are baby giants. We have our well-baby visit this week and I'll get an official weigh-in on these two, but I'm betting Finn weighs in at about 13 lbs & Cassidy's 10.5 lbs. What will you give me if I'm right? If I give you my address, will you send me money???? But you have to promise not to come over & look in my windows...or judge when I answer the door with crazy hair & no makeup.

So here are some updates on the babies (what a difference a month makes):

FINN:
* The reflux monster has started its retreat (That's right. Reflux is my bitch). Finn likes to be swaddled & rocked in the rocker before going to sleep & he enjoys a good nighttime story.
* We've had to start using a sleep positioner to keep Finn from rolling all over the crib like a baby avalanche (the ole crib has to be propped up to keep Madame Reflux on the defense and it makes sleeping gravity a tricky thing).
* Finn loves to snuggle. He'll tuck his head into your neck & make himself at home.
* Finn is Mr. Chatty! He likes to smile & coo & carry on a "conversation." Sometimes he gives a special look like you're a Christmas Tree. It rocks my world. But he makes you work for it.
* Finn has a wide range of "I'm barely tolerating you" looks. He's going to make a great angsty teen.
* Finn is into Size 2 diapers this week.
* Finn is a champ at the tummy time now. He still doesn't like it too much but he full-on holds his head up. It freaks me out a little. What happened to my lazy lump???
* Finn is trying to hold his bottle sometimes. He has done it successfully once.

* Finn ROLLED OVER on Saturday. Tummy to back. Twice. ACK!

CASSIDY:
* Cassidy is as smiley & chatty as ever. She tends to charm people wherever she goes.
* Cassidy can't go to sleep without a pacifier in her mouth. As long as she's sleepy enough, she'll go to sleep like a dream. Swaddle her up, stick the pacy in her mouth, and she's done.
* Cassidy doesn't cry. She fusses & cranks out a nice unhappy soundtrack, but she never puts out a sustainable cry.
* Cassidy loves the light-up, music-playing butterfly on the play mat. She likes to screw up her feet & kick it (and she loves to stick out her leg like a pointer dog when she's happy).
* Cassidy is a drool monster. We're going to have to start putting bibs on her because she drools all over her clothes. It's not pretty.
* Cassidy also has terrible, smelly gas. It's awesome.
* Cassidy has started to notice Finn. She'll stare at him & it's clear she's observing what he does. Unfortunately, he doesn't reciprocate so it's a little like unrequited love.
* Cassidy has started to outgrow Newborn clothes & is in the 0-3 months clothes.
* Cassidy is working really hard at sitting up. She does baby crunches, gets tomato red in the face, and grunts like she's trying to poop herself. If propped up, she can sometimes balance and sit unassisted for a few seconds.

   

So they're growing like weeds. It's exciting to see them turn into little people. And then, on the other hand, it's terrifying. It all goes by so quickly and I'm afraid I'm gong to miss something or turn around & they'll be grown up. Ah, Father Time, you are my nemesis.

Good Touch- Bad Touch

Pumping at work blows. To all you moms hooked up to your sucker machines in various offices, bathroom stalls, broom closets-  my hat is off to you! I feel pretty proud I've made it to 4 months but the thought of giving up the lady liquor production becomes more compelling by the day....

After pumping and nursing in front of the masses, it's hard to be sensitive to all my co-workers (mostly male, of course) who become dysfunctional at the thought of my mammaries - Full-on blubbering, excessive apologies, uncomfortable anecdotes about so-and-so drank so-and-so's breast milk, an occasional robot-dance to the rhythm of my pump (I can't make this shit up)- It's all entertaining. So, I typically put a note on the door that indicates people can enter if they want to feel awkward but I won't.

And then corporate came to visit this week and hijacked my pumping office. I was relegated to the server room- which, if you've never been in a server room, it sounds a little like being in a wind tunnel. So, I make myself comfortable, get all hooked up, and commence milking (moo!). And then I decide to play on the computer that's so conveniently located right in front of me. "Look! Some office God anticipated I would be in here pumping away and decided to provide me with a computer! I'm soooo speshal!"

You'd think after ::cough:: 32 years, I'd know better than to touch things that aren't mine.

I work in an office with a call-center. And we use a computer program that allows you to view who is logged in, taking calls, on the phone, etc.  And this little winner is on display on my pumping computer. I decide to minimize it because- "Hello? My entertainment is paramount!" Turns out this program is the Mother Program. When I minimize it, it disappears. Whoops. And I suspect it has now disappeared from everyone's computers.But maybe no one would notice?

Not so much. Apparently, my office-mates started responding like it was the apocalypse. "What happened to the Viewer???!!!! The sky is falling! Aaaaaah!"

I couldn't remember anyone's number so called in through the queue. "Hey? Um...I think I broke the viewer?"  And I got a "YES! AND WE REALLY NEED IT!" So I got the IT Man to come fix it. Of course, I had to turn off the ole pump & unlock the door, Hooter Hider twirling about my neck like a dejected superhero's flaccid accoutrement. Sometimes I feel an affinity for this icon:

So, where was I? Oh yeah, thinking about giving up the pump. If you have encouragement- please send it. I can only take so many more robot dances.