6 Months!

The babies turned 6 months old yesterday.

Ridonculous.

One thing I've learned about parenthood- whatever age, size, shape the babies are RIGHT NOW is how I always think of them. It's amazing how quickly I forget how small they were, how little they could do. And, of course, I just can't wrap my head around the idea of them being bigger.

Their 6 month appointment was uneventful. They're healthy. They're awesome. They got shots that sucked donkey balls. And I cry every.mother-clucking.time they get those spawn of Satan shots. Every time.

They're on the full-term baby growth charts now, which is good. I would inundate you with weights, head circumfrances, and the like but I'm chained to the milk machine right now. That's right- I'm still a Human Cow. And I made it to my six-month, food-eating goal.

GOOOOOAAAAAL!

                            (These people are REALLY excited about breast milk)

But I've decided to slow down the juice. Now that the babies have been approved to start food (FOOOOOD!), I feel like it's time to start shutting down the Dairy Farm. Pumping doesn't fit cleanly into my life (hello- work) and now that I've started to really commit to losing the baby weight my supply has started to tank. 1 (maybe 2) bottles of breastmilk/day is not exactly a giant Milky Motivator.

And, now, your kick ass 6 month baby pictures. More to come so think of this as a little baby flavah!

How to not get a job

If you're interviewing to be our new nanny, here are some helpful pointers on how to make sure you don't get the gig:

1. Send me a response to my ad that looks like you learned English from an episode of "The Real World." And don't say weird things like, "Children are my heartbeat." I have no interest in handing my babies over to you so that you can run around with a little infant pacemaker.

2. Completely ignore what we're asking for. If you can only work mornings on Mondays, 30 minutes on Tuesdays, and a half-day on Fridays, I'm not interested.

3. Ask for a minimum of $15/hour. I didn't make $15/hour with a graduate degree doing skilled work with criminals. I'm not about to pay your little GED butt $15 an hour while you play with my babies on the floor and watch Maury while they nap.

4. Miss your scheduled phone interview.

5. Call me at 6:45 in the morning and not leave a voicemail. Then call me again so I can put on my detective hat and identify you as the perpetrator of the 6:45am drive-by call on the morning where I got to sleep in.

6. Complain about your current nannying job the whole time we talk. Not.Helpful.

7. Show up to my house 20 minutes late for your scheduled face-to-face interview. Oh yeah, and fail to call and let me know you're running late.

8. Walk into my house without ringing the doorbell so that I find you standing in my dining room.

9. Slur your words the entire time we talk. Then interrupt me and talk nonsense about butterflies, worms, and hangers left on the floor.

And the last tip to ensure you don't get to be our new nanny?

10. Make me think that maybe our current nanny isn't so bad after all...

Blogger On Crack

Not me. I'm not on crack....yet...

I'm referring to this lovely platform- Blogger. Anyone using blogger these days knows they came out with some new templates. And of course for a technically inept person (moi) and attention-deficient lady (also moi), this was like a new toy. "Ooh! New bloggity templates just for me!"

But this morning, before coffee and after nanny's hypochondriacal meltdown in my living room rug (Don't get me STARTED! 6 more days...), I looked at my blog and was all-

"My eyes! My eyes!"

You know- Except without the flowers. Because then I would be all, "I'm blind! I'm blind! But I smell like Heaven!" Although I do love a good flower eye treatment, don't you?

But really? Is it me or is my blog on crack? The grass is like something after Chernobyl- all glowy and radiationy.  Please weigh-in (even you silent lurkers out there). Is it just me or is this thing crazy-looking? Or maybe I should have my cup of coffee and reassess....

Oh Daddio!

(Side note: This post was originally entitled "Aye Papi!" but when I was checking the spelling, handy old google informed me this phrase is reserved for ::cough:: inappropriate situations. Just so y'all know... You learn something everyday...)

I am blessed. I'm blessed with two ridiculously amazing men in my life. Not only are they just ridiculously great people but they are also great fathers. We'll start with Daddio Numero Uno- My padre.

I have to say he set the bar pretty high. He was always there for me and Brother. He was at every dance recital, choir concert (even the ones where we sang out of key!), and tee-ball event. He and my Ma share equal billing in the hero department but there's no question I'm a softy when it comes to Dad. So thanks Dad. I don't think I would be as happy and successful today without you. Nay, I KNOW I wouldn't be. You will always be the first man in my life, taking me to work with you and letting me play under your desk as you typed away. And now I'm so excited and proud to have children who get to know you and love you as much as me!

And to the other man in my life. Daddio #2-  Where to start? (I think this is why they have greeting card companies)  I wouldn't be on this wild ride with anybody but you. You amaze me. From bed rest to 3am feedings, you are my partner in parenthood. I am so thankful every day for you. I listened to you reading the babies a bedtime story the other night. I was in the other room doing something mundane and as I heard you, I was overwhelmed. You are such an amazing father. You are strong, gentle, and Cassidy, Finnegan, and I are all better people because of you. Happy first Father's Day.

...And There's Another One

A year ago today I woke up with the dreaded spotting.

Spotting + Pregnant Hormones = FREAK THE FUCK OUT

* Waves at Mom & Dad * Hi! It's not your fault my language is so sassy. You can blame the media.

So Brendan and I hopped in the car and drove to an emergency doctor's appointment. I don't remember much about that drive except I was trying to hold it together. And as we pulled into the parking lot I burst into tears. I knew we had lost the baby.

And then the ultrasound lady pulled out her handy dildo cam and a beautiful image popped up. A little spot with a flickering heartbeat, sitting contentedly in its sack. And she said, "There's one."  My anxiety faded and my heart swelled. Amazing.

And in a moment, our world was upside down. She moved the wand a little and said, "...and there's another one." Four words that changed my life. It far surpassed the reigning four-word life-changing phrase, "Will you marry me?"

That's Cassidy on the left and Finnegan on the right. Brendan almost fainted from the shock (this is true. I know I'm prone to exaggeration but this case calls for none). Me? I was shocked too. I think I said, "WHAT?!" and then proceeded to have saucer eyes for days.

Frankly, I'm still in shock most of the time. I stare at our children and it boggles my mind. They came from me. Brendan & I created them from nothing. And I have to say, if you didn't believe in God before, then this miracle- The miracle of creating life. The miracle that I am able to parent these amazing people. Well, dang, it's got to make you a believer.

Who Does #2 Work For?

I have bathroom performance anxiety. There. I've said it.

If I have to do the dreaded 2, it's got to be in the safety of my own home. And I just can't bring myself to go in a shared restroom. Call it neuroses, call it good sense, call it constipation, I just.can't.do.it. If I'm at work and the bifidus regularus starts to do its magic, then I either

a. Hold it til the end of the day
b. Run home

It's true. I run home. I give my co-workers a vague, "Oh, I have to run home real quick. I'll be right back," and thankfully, they don't ask for details. I could lie but I'm a really craptastic liar.

Now there is the rare exception. The emergency movement, in which case I do the deed all covert and terrorist-like. I usually run to a bathroom on a different floor, where nobody knows me. You know- just in case. And then I make sure nobody's in there. If there's a person in there I'll pretend to blow my nose and leave. (The more I write this, the more certifiable I sound, yes?) If nobody is around, I go as quickly as possible - like lightning quick. I mean, I could be some kind of superhero I'm so fast - and get the hell out.

(by the way, search google images for "poop" at your own risk)

Now, maybe I'm the weird one. But I think it's strange when the women in my building go. They're real social about it. They talk to their friends in the next stall or even talk on the phone (!) while they go. I'm both horrified and envious. It's true.

But the reality is, no amount of fiber will change things for me. I'll keep running home when the dreaded deux comes calling... Anybody else like me out there? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Look Who's Talkin

Bruce Willis can eat his heart out.

Please note how Cassidy likes to do a "fake-you-out" cry.





Also, somebody please explain to me why hearing your own voice played back is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard?

The Gift of Fear

Ah...intuition.

That little voice inside that makes you know something just isn't right. There might be no evidence, nothing solid to substantiate that feeling in your gut, but it's there. Like the feeling you get after bad chinese...

And I have to say that feeling is NEVER. WRONG.

Every time I've ignored it, pushed it to the side because, "Hey, It's JUST a feeling," I've ended up with a big, fat, "I told you so" from my little intuition.

* I had that feeling with our nanny. But hey, she was great with the kids, everything checked out, yadda yadda.
* I've had that feeling with friends' and family members' significant others. And I've been right again & again. Even when I didn't want to be.

I'm not saying I'm always right. But I'm starting to think my intuition is. To date, it hasn't steered me wrong. Listening to it steered me right into Brendan & my marriage.

So as we renew our nanny search, I'm befriending my intuition. We're full-on getting "BFF" jewelry and matching tattoos. I'm going to sit that little guy next to me on the couch as we interview new candidates and lean over to whisper, "What do you think of this one, Buddy?"And if he gives the thumb-down, then on to the next!

As a final thought, here's a clip to a little "Intuitive Video"- a song that benchmarks my early tweenhood. (This one's going out to you, Tree!)



How good is your intuitive compass? Does it steer you clear of murky waters or right into dark alleys?

Onto the Next...

Our nanny is breaking up with us. Let me say that again- Ding! Dong! The nanny is gone!

Don't get me wrong, things have been going swimmingly since our little chat a couple weeks ago. But our personality mismatch was still glaringly obvious.

Us = Awesome people of the world
Her = Lame & Trashy

Here's a nice example of how our being awesome put a rift in our relationship. Last night some douche blocked her in on our street. So when I asked her what she did, she casually replied, "I keyed his car."

Um....yeah....

And this is the person I leave my kids with all day??? HORROR!

Well, lucky for us, we won the nanny break-up lottery. She decided she can't do this job AND school. Luckily, I managed to restrain my excitement when she broke the news to us tonight. 

Now that the excitement has worn off, I realize I have to start the search for a nanny all over again. Crap.

Vomit-Inducing Cuteness