ALWAYS Follow the Directions!

You would think that as a former teacher who constantly reiterated the importance of following the damned directions, assuming they actually read said directions, that I would definitely heed my own advice. But, oh, no. Not me. You're probably wondering what the hell I'm talking about, right? I only wanted not to have to shave my legs daily. I bought Veet, the one with the 'razor less razor'. I applied the cream hair-remover all over my legs; I did not spot check for allergic reactions or irritation. After all, I don't have the time I thought. Silly, silly me. The bottoms of my legs fared much better than the tops. The tops of my legs are raw. It looked like I had hives at first. Now it looks like my legs have broken out. And it hurts, too. Did I mention that it was in the 80's all week, and it was so hot a few people even turned on their air conditioners yesterday. (Not me. I've waited too long to be able to open up my windows.) I'm not super vain, but I could just not put on a pair of shorts and walk out of the house. As it is, S. asked me what happened to my legs, and not in a sarcastic tone. He was very concerned, and wanted to know which 'lotion' did that to his mommy's legs. So, lesson learned the hard way. Always follow the directions. Or maybe you'll end up with something worse than my gross-looking legs!

Shoulds

Recently, I read several articles about the environment. I believe it was due to Earth Day or something. One article had simple steps that 'you' can do to help save the environment. I usually skip these, since they never are as easy as they claim to be, and also because they tend to make me feel bad about myself. For some reason, I chose to read this one. Ever since, I have been silently telling myself what I 'should' be doing. For example:

• I should be unplugging my cellphone charger when I'm not using it. This also applies to any small appliance not in use. Apparently, there is still some electricity going through said appliance. If I don't do this, I am damaging mother earth.
• Make sure I make it clear to the kiddies to turn off the water when they aren't using it. Like when S. is brushing his teeth and still leaves the water running. This actually does drive me nuts!
• Put all recycleables in designated receptable. I cringe every time I throw junk mail in the regular garbage can. The landfills must be full of all the paper I've thrown out. Oh, and all of the disposable diapers we've used too.

I think you get the idea. The thing of the matter is that I do this with everything in my life, not just the environment. I tell myself I 'should' never raise my voice at the kids no matter what they have done. Moms aren't supposed to yell. I tell myself I 'should' call a certain friend, who I do enjoy spending time with, but doesn't understand that it is very hard to talk on the phone while the kids are up. And every time we talk, it is a very long conversation and I do most of the listening. I tell myself I need to make sure the kids eat fruits and veggies every day at at least two meals. I mean if I don't start them eating healthy now, they are going to grow up into obese adults. That would be my fault. Think of all the health risks! And today, I told myself I 'should' be happy for my SIL, Hubby's sister, who told us only an hour ago, that not only is she having twins but she's having twin girls. And we all know how much I wanted a daughter. I should be happy for her, but I'm not. Not yet, at least.

The First R...

S. has wanted to read for the longest time, and I have finally gotten along to teaching him. He's known his letters for a long time, and now we are working on their sounds. It's taking some time, and he seemed to think that he was going to be able to read a book in only a day's time! I give him a lot of credit, though, because the boy doesn't give up. We have been working for over an hour every day. Now that may not seem like a lot, but trust me, it is. To continually go over letter sounds that he's forgotten, and then sounding out words. Wow. I'm proud of the boy, I am, but man can it get boring! And the thing is when I get bored, I'm figuring he is too. I'm figuring he's going to be ready to call it quits for the day, but he rarely is. So, I'm sure that he'll be asking to read again during Tot's nap tomorrow. And that's okay.

Did I also mention how obsessed S. is with numbers. Yep. He found my old calculator from my work days, and has been attached to it ever since. When we were at my brother's house Saturday and I couldn't find the bugger, my dad found him with three calculators in front of him. He was in heaven! I'm pretty sure I made the right decision enrolling him in his preschool's extended program next year! He'll go from 9AM-2PM three days a week. He'll be challenged, which he needs. And maybe next year he'll be able to read. No pressure, though. I've never pressured him to do anything more than he's ready to do. No matter what, I love that boy more than I can describe in mere words. My first baby boy. My buddy. My everything.

The SAHM Blahs

When I became a SAHM, I knew the pitfalls that came with the job; or so I thought. I had asked many questions from current and former SAHMs, and made mental notes so that I would never allow any of the bad stuff to happen to me. I'm laughing as I type this! My list, in no particular order, became this:

1. Always put on some form of make up before leaving the house, so that I never 'let myself go' because I'm a mom.


2. Don't only wear 'mom clothes'. Dress my age, not like a frumpy schoolmarm.


3. Don't feel like I have to ask my husband's permission to buy or do something because he 'makes the money.'


4. My husband and I are equals, so everything, including the kids and housework as well as time to ourselves, will be equally divided.


5. Remember that my job as a SAHP is as important, if not more important than the job he does all day.

I could go on and on, but I think those show the jist of what I'm talking about.

This past weekend Hubby went out of town on an all men's retreat. I was very happy that he wanted to go, as he is a very shy person. Plus, the topic was something he has been struggling with lately. However, it means that I will be 'working' 11 days without a break when this weekend rolls around. At any rate, I was in need of a break before he even left. Did I mention how I forgot it was my niece's communion on Saturday. Oh, yes. We are not Catholic, so I didn't know how big a girl's first communion is, but it was big! I had to find a gift and clothes for the boys to wear, all the day before while by myself. Then the I had to take the boys with me by myself. Luckily, my dad was there to help me, and the kids actually sat through the entire hour long mass. Both of them! Believe, me. I know the big guy was watching over me! I had tried to make sure the boys and I looked nice, and took a picture to commemorate the event. This is what I got:

Who knows what the Tot was looking at. And I'm wearing the outfit my husband told me to buy. I wanted to return it, because when am I ever going to wear it? We are more casual at our church, and it just isn't appropriate for parent-tot tumbling. I mean where do I go that warrants a silk skirt and top with, you can't see them, three inch heels?! Not comfortable!

I must admit that I pretty much only wear jeans. My mom uniform seems to be jeans and a v-neck shirt in either brown, black or gray. So much for not dressing frumpy. I also feel like my time is not my own, and if I am by myself, I am always in a hurry to get back home because someone there has something to do. Tomorrow S.'s preschool is having a special event, so there goes even the thirty minutes I spend with friends at the local bagel store eating lunch with our little ones after tumbling. Wednesday I have a MOPS administration meeting, because one day when I must hav ebeen on drugs(kidding!)I agreed to be next year's leader of the entire group. WTF was I thinking! Then on Saturday morning, there is the Vacation Bible School leaders breakfast at 8:30 AM! Oh, then Mother's Day the next day in which I am supposed to teach a Sunday School lesson that ties into Mother's Day. Yah, on the one day of the year I can barely get out of bed. So, no time for myself ever. I can't even make it to the gym.

I just feel so unattractive lately. My face broke out a month ago, and does not appear to be getting any better despite spending mucho dinero on acne products at Sephora. Does anyone have any advice or suggestions on what to do for adult acne?

But the worst thing that has happened lately is that I feel like I have to justify purchases to Hubby. Not the every day stuff. But I feel like I need to ask permission to, for example, update my bathroom. Not gut it, just update it. A new vanity, floor, lighting and paint. I'm even nervous to suggest it. This is not like me, and feeling this way pisses me off!

Does anyone feel like they are in charge of all the childcare? Hubby has a work event next week, which I need to go to with him. At any rate, guess who ended up finding a sitter? Yep, and it isn't even my thing! If it has to do with the kids, it's my thing. Hubby doesn't even realize this, I know, but I'm getting tired of it.

I'm am feeling so overwhelmed lately. So uninspired, so uncreative, so blah.

Delayed

When our IVF with the Tot was successful, we were elated. Then the RE gave us my HCG level. It was 479. Twins are in the 150 range for that particular day. He said to me,"I know what you're thinking. Twins, right?". I said,"Yes, I am. My numbers have never been that high this early." He said, "Me too. It may be twins. Come in again in two days and we'll see how it's progressing." Two days come, I give blood, and get a phone call back declaring my numbers 'very high', and that I could come in for an ultrasound that Friday.

When Hubby and I were called back to the room, the ultrasound tech. said to us, "We're going to see how many today." Huh? HOW MANY? "Like two, right?", we said. She just smiled. The doctor enters and says to us,"The embryologist and I have been wringing our hands over this one. Your numbers are very high." Like triplets high; we had three embryos tranferred. He then says,"You are too small to carry triplets. Well, let's take a look." I told him that I only felt there was one, Hubby guessed two. The doctor merely hoped we were right.

One of us was. Hubby, of course. Oh, but it can't be simple for us. It can't be that everything looks good. Oh, no. The twins were measuring a few days apart. My doctor wasn't worried. He said that sometimes twins implant on different days. He gave Twin B a 50% chance of making it. Twin A looked good. He told us in a week we'd know more.

A week later, things looked the same. No better, no worse. So much for answers. This time we had to wait two more weeks to find out. We went home with pictures of the babies, and promptly put them on the fridge. Now I wish I could tell you that I was all happy about having twins, but I wasn't. I was so happy to be pregnant, and yes I did know the risk of multiples associated with IVF, but I was also scared. Scared because I had already had one child, and knew just how hard it is to raise one infant let alone two. I was worried about the extra risks of a twin pregnancy. I was very concerned about the increased rate of postpartum in moms of multiples. Adding in my increased risk since I had developed PPD following the birth of my first child. Well, I was sure I was going to go nuts! Hubby told me not to worry, his mom would help. As if that little piece of information was going to help! I told him that she is a woman in her 60's with arthritis, you can't expect her to be able to help that much. If I would have known I was going to develop full-blown PPD the likes of which I never even experienced the last time following Tot's birth, maybe I wouldn't have worried so much! Anyway, it was a long two weeks.

Finally, the appointment came. We immediately saw two heartbeats. I thought that meant all was good. I even said,"Now we're never going to know, or we won't know until they're born." I was smiling, and felt so happy because I thought that heartbeat meant that we were going to be having two little babies. That's not what happened. My doctor explained that Twin B was still measuring far behind what it should be. He told us that if Twin B did survive that it would have major problems and that selective reduction should be made available to us. I asked myself,"Did he just say I should abort that baby?" Now I am most definitely pro-choice. Don't even get me started on the whole ruling situation last week. Anyway, I couldn't imagine aborting this baby that we had tried so hard to conceive. I worried about losing the other baby if we did 'selective reduce' this pregnancy. The best possible outcome was for me to miscarry on my own. My doctor officially released me to my OB that day, and of course I couldn't get an appointment with him for another two weeks. Is it any wonder why I went crazy after the birth of my children?

Two weeks later, we had our appointment. Our OB even did an ultrasound in the office that day. He couldn't conclusively determine anything. Luckily, the high-risk group who does 4-D ultrasounds could see me right then, and they were within walking distance. The news? The heartbeat had ceased. Twin B had died. I was 10 weeks pregnant when I finally learned that I would not be a twin mama after all. Too much drama.

You all know the rest of the story. I gave birth to the Tot in May of 2005. He weighed a respectable 8 pounds, 7 ounces, and measured 19 1/2 inches. In comparison, his brother weighed 8 pounds, 10 ounces and measured 22 inches. A little advice ladies who have not given birth yet: don't believe your doctors. Mine told me I was having 7 pound babies. They were way off.

In the weeks and months following the Tot's birth, I had been happy with the result of not having twins. I couldn't imagine it! It was so hard having two kids to take care of. I couldn't imagine three! Now, though, I have been thinking a lot about the twin we lost. I think about the three playing together. It just feels like something is missing, at times. Yesterday, I opened up the envelope where I keep all of the ultrasounds from that pregnancy. I looked at the petri dish where our embryos grew. I looked at all of the ultrasound pictures. I looked at the first picture of the twins with the letters 'A' and 'B' beside each one. I looked at the babies both inside my uterus. Then I looked at that ultrasound picture were you could tell that Twin B wasn't going to make it. I could see the huge difference in size, and that they were two weeks apart. So sad.

I guess I'll always wonder what could have been. Maybe even what should have been. I'll always have a little anger at all that we went through. But then I look at my little boys. My two little miracle babies. Sure, I lost two babies, but I also gave birth to two babies. And for that, I'll always be grateful.