This book looks good. I'm gonna read it.
I might get that book if I pinch her
Mom!
She's hurting me!
I'm gonna fight you to the death
Chomp
She bit me!
Archive for October, 2009
23 Month Check Up
On Saturday, the girls had their regular check up with their pediatrician. Seeing as though they have been sick for the past week and a half, it was perfect timing.
I love the girls pediatrician. I was about to write MY pediatrician because he was mine as well!
The appointment was for 11:00am. Of course, when I signed in- I noticed that there were 7 other people with the SAME appointment time (which is the one THING I HATE about going to him). He sees these kids like they are on a conveyor line- but with my girls he is totally sweet. I think he likes them because I was actually one of his first patients. He was the pediatrician on call the day my mom gave birth to me.
In the waiting room, I sat with the girls in their double stroller and an older gentleman with his 12 year old son sat by us. He waved at the girls, and then told me that his daughter had twins, but lost one. I asked him what week did she give birth, and he said 26. He proceeded to tell me that the one that survived was doing beautifully. I told him I had the girls at 30 weeks and he said “G-D bless them- you wouldnt be able to tell”. Of course, even though you can’t tell, I will FOREVER have the war scars on the inside.
ALWAYS.
Then another set of twins walked in and sat by us. How did I know they were twins? Well, the mother decided to dress them IDENTICALLY. No joke, down to the same head band. Internets, you know how much I LOATHE that (personally). I started talking to the mom and she said her girls just turned 2, but were preemies. I asked how many weeks they were born at, and she said 30. Just like my girls. My girls were 30 weeks and 4 days (in premature delivery world every day counts).
She said she had to be on hospital bed rest from her 21st week. I was hospitalized at 25 weeks. We had very similar stories.
She said that her Baby B had to be in intubated at birth (like my Baby B) but they must have punctured her lung because her daughter’s lung collapsed and she had to have it partially removed- of course, you couldnt tell on her.
You dont often meet people who have gone through the same war as you have. Not IRL anyway. That’s why I love blogging. I get to meet other mommies who are survivors. I have met some of my BEST FRIENDS on here. I’m a nerd and I don’t care.
Soleil was weighed and measured, she is now 27.5 lbs and 35 inches tall.
Neve was weighed and measured (against her will), she is now 29 lbs and 35 inches tall.
He said that they are doing beautifully and are on the right track physically and developmentally.
I always wait for the other shoe to drop when it comes to appointments.
I guess that’s just part of the battle scar.
Putting stickers on their faces
"More stickers I say!"
Is this a good look mom?
Wonder where they learned that?
Daycare
Since my girls started daycare earlier this month, they have picked up a few things.
1) New Words!
The other day I was picking up Soleil from her highchair and she said “Up.. Down” – my mouth dropped! I guess they are teaching them something over there.
2) Arts & Crafts
Aside from words, they are bringing home arts & crafts. I LOVE ME some arts and crafts. When I was a kid I loved making them and then taking them home to show my mom. Of course, they are too young to really understand- but I get excited over it anyway and gush over them. I then proceed to place it on my refrigerator door. Everyone tells me that one day I will start throwing out their “artwork” but I say- NEVER. I remember just how important my works were to me, so I will retain them in my deep dark closet until they move out- or until I am swimming in crafts and they have to pull me out of my house all “Grey Gardens” like
Finger Painting
I doubt they did any of this. Apple-Honey Magnet
3) Bad Habits
I knew it was going to happen. I knew it. Neve is just beyond testing us. She is throwing things in fits of anger. It can be anything- she doesnt discriminate : books, remotes (which she broke), bottles, plates- you name it. She has also started hitting us! I have no idea what to do. I mean, is 22 months too young to discipline? We put her in the corner or in her crib when she does bad stuff, but she just doesnt seem to care. ADVICE- PLEASE.
4) GERMS
Last Wednesday Night- Neve was coughing, had a slight fever. She stayed home from school Thursday & Friday. On Sunday night/ Monday morning her cough got really bad so my husband took her to the ER at 5am on Yom Kippur (pediatrician was observing the holiday as well). The doctors said she was fine and didn’t prescribe anything. Apparently she was not having it when the doctors tried checking on her. She was pissed off. When they tried to put a blood pressure cuff on her she went NUTS. I guess she’s like an old ‘Nam vet- she remembers somewhere in the depths of her soul the NICU experience and all the monitors that were attached to her back then.
Just as Neve started to feel like herself again, Soleil started to feel warm. She had a fever of 102.7 and she was not a happy camper. Usually she is very quiet, but my poor baby was sick sick sick. We took her to the pediatrician – and of course, poor baby has an ear infection- her first one. Those darn kids at that daycare and their gooey yucky germs. SO I have been dealing with TWO sick, coughing, miserable babies for 10 days now.
Every time I tell one of my 24 yr old co workers about the kids and the stories they always say “You make us NEVER want to have kids” – HA.
Any advice for this new mama about daycare? Sicknesses? Germs? Them hitting us? Discipline? HALP.
Happy Pills
Sometimes I wonder just how different my life would have been if I would have made different decisions.
I started dating my husband at 20.
We married by 23.
I never had my carefree 20′s, never explored myself.
I never got an apartment with a friend and lived in the city (Manhattan).
I never got to really date.
I never got to take a crazy trip with friends.
I think about those things- A LOT.
I know that there is no sense in that at all.
But nonetheless, I still do.
I always felt mature for my age- ever since I was a little girl.
But in truth, I never really lived life.
Sometimes I feel like I could have waited.
I could have waited to date, to marry.
When I was dating my husband, I loved him so much. I couldnt imagine NOT being with him. He was too much of a good catch for me to give up. He was a good man.
And he still is.. it’s just life got in the way.
We fight- ALL THE TIME.
We are two different people, and having twins just magnifies that. They say that parents of multiples have a 75% divorce rate.
75% PEOPLE.
But we are too stubborn to give up.
We say it’s just a phase.
The toddler years are FUCKING hard.
Every time I say “no” to my girls, or yell.. I hear my mothers voice emanating from my mouth.
And if you know me, that is the WORST possible thing ever.
I have been in a funk lately.
I don’t let on.
Every time I see my therapist, I cry.
ALL THE FUCKING TIME.
EVERY WEEK- Monday’s at 12:00pm.
She says that she thinks medication would do my good.
I can’t imagine having to take happy pills.
My brother takes those. I am not my brother.
I had a childhood that was less than fairy tale.
No, I wasnt physically or sexually abused.
No, I wasnt poor or living on the streets.
I was just always berated.
I never truly understood why it was that my brother was treated so well, while I wasn’t.
I only now realize that it was because he was different. Asperger’s is what I think he has. He has never been diagnosed, but he is definitely textbook.
Of course, that doesnt make up for years of being a second class citizen in my own home.
I remember as a child, my mother would often bring special snacks for my brother to his room- and when I asked why she didnt bring me some, she would answer “well, you know your brother wont get anything for himself- and I know you will”
I REMEMBER so clearly often crying the words “Nobody Loves Me” – when I would be ganged up on by my family.
No one ever walked into my room and said that it wasn’t true.. that they did love me. I needed to hear it at those times, but NEVER did.
WHAT KIND OF PARENT lets their kids cry those words and doesn’t come in to console them???
A father that was withholding, a mother that was a let down.
Even though I know all of this today, as an adult- it doesn’t make it any easier.
My father was beaten as child. My grandfather was an alcoholic and would mentally abuse my grandmother. My father stuck up fro his mother and suffered the consequences- often. He would be locked in a dark room and made to sleep on the floor. A rat bit him in the face and he still has the scar.
So to my father- by him providing for us, and NOT abusing us- HE WAS being the best father he could be. And I have to respect him for that- even though I never really felt as though I had a father. Being an absent father doesnt make it any better I guess.
I am rambling.
But at the end of the day.. I KNOW I SHOULD be happy.
I should.
I have two healthy daughters.
I have a good husband.
I have a job (albeit I am living in massive debt)
I dont have a job that I love, and I dont get to see my kids.
I’m bitching.
I know.
I am just miserable lately.
I try to fill that void with pretty clothes.
If the outside is put together, maybe the inside will be as well?
Because right now, I am hanging by a thin rope.
I may just need those happy pills.
