Back at the hotel we changed for swimming. I take the stroller since the twins are sleeping and I am relieved that the pool is empty. The older two get my usual"Rules" rundown and start towards the pool stairs. I get the stroller in position and start taking pictures of the kids in the pool, when my son decides to throw caution to the wind and DIVES into the pool from the stairs. He flies back up and runs to me very excited. I explain that he was being dangerous and since he cannot swim he shouldnt try ti do so underwater. He seems to comply with the rules for awhile and I pick up a fussy baby to feed a bottle to, when he decides to dive in again. I panic and jump in the pool fully clothed to get him out of the pool, all while holding a baby.
We gathered our belongings at that point and I sheepishly walked through the lobby-soaked, to the elevator and as the doors were thankfully closing, a chipper young woman asks, "are your babies twins?"
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
The Dr
In a stroke of genius or in the interest of saving time, my husband scheduled all 4 well child visits on the same day. All 4 needed shots. To add excitement to this day, my husband was set to leave town one hour after their appointment.
So the day arrives. The plan was simple enough, I get all the kids to the office and he rushes home from work-prays for a traffic free commute and meets me at the office.
No issues for stage one. The plan for stage two was older kids go first, get in get out and then it will be time for the babies. The Dr destroyed our plan by seeing all of the kids together.
So one by one the kids go through their height, weight and exams. Question sessions and finally the rundown of who needs what shot. The Dr exits, and the nurse enters. Cue the screaming. Not of the infants. Or the toddler. But of the oldest who needed two shots. Then the screaming toddler. Then the babies. AFTER 2 HOURS & 45 MINUTES we finally load the kids up and head for home via Walgreens to fill the handful of Rx the crew needed. And a stop at Hyvee for the wine I needed.
The babies are small and both had welts where the shots were given and needed to be massaged, plus they were very fussy and bruised. It was a very long night for all of us. The next day, all kids were up early and in happy moods. Whew!
So the day arrives. The plan was simple enough, I get all the kids to the office and he rushes home from work-prays for a traffic free commute and meets me at the office.
No issues for stage one. The plan for stage two was older kids go first, get in get out and then it will be time for the babies. The Dr destroyed our plan by seeing all of the kids together.
So one by one the kids go through their height, weight and exams. Question sessions and finally the rundown of who needs what shot. The Dr exits, and the nurse enters. Cue the screaming. Not of the infants. Or the toddler. But of the oldest who needed two shots. Then the screaming toddler. Then the babies. AFTER 2 HOURS & 45 MINUTES we finally load the kids up and head for home via Walgreens to fill the handful of Rx the crew needed. And a stop at Hyvee for the wine I needed.
The babies are small and both had welts where the shots were given and needed to be massaged, plus they were very fussy and bruised. It was a very long night for all of us. The next day, all kids were up early and in happy moods. Whew!
Musical Beds
Sleep is rare in this house. Our older two share a room and the twins sleep in our room in a double bassinet pack and play. The evening routine is chaos. My son running down the hall with my daughters blue sparkle toothpaste shrieking and laughing. Our daughter chasing him, the dogs chasing her and we yell directions from their closet or the nursery.
Once teeth are brushed, which involves holding my son down to keep him from running away to get his sister back, then we let them pick a book. More times than we like that process is frustrating enough and we sentence them to their room. In their beds. Fast foward two hours. In my bed we have two dogs, one toddler, me and a restless husband. He has limited room since we own a sleep number bed and he prefers the softest setting, as I prefer the firmest. There is an actual incline to get to my side. So the toddler rolls down the hill into my husbands face feet first. Funny to me, upsetting to my husband.
The same thing happens with the dogs. I finally fall asleep as one of the twins wakes and then once she is asleep the other will wake. After the diaper changes, dog issues, and toddler kicks to the face my husband abandons all hope of sleep and heads downstairs to do research for work. I fall asleep to be woken within two hours with the twins again. I will look for my husband at this point in the night arount 3am, make sure he has a blanket and then head for my last sleep cycle.
Once teeth are brushed, which involves holding my son down to keep him from running away to get his sister back, then we let them pick a book. More times than we like that process is frustrating enough and we sentence them to their room. In their beds. Fast foward two hours. In my bed we have two dogs, one toddler, me and a restless husband. He has limited room since we own a sleep number bed and he prefers the softest setting, as I prefer the firmest. There is an actual incline to get to my side. So the toddler rolls down the hill into my husbands face feet first. Funny to me, upsetting to my husband.
The same thing happens with the dogs. I finally fall asleep as one of the twins wakes and then once she is asleep the other will wake. After the diaper changes, dog issues, and toddler kicks to the face my husband abandons all hope of sleep and heads downstairs to do research for work. I fall asleep to be woken within two hours with the twins again. I will look for my husband at this point in the night arount 3am, make sure he has a blanket and then head for my last sleep cycle.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Road Trip Part 1
I will look back on today and have lots of happy memories. Things my daughter said that made me laugh or that brought me tears of pride. I will look back on how sweet my son was as he fell asleep across my lap. However, as the night is ending I feel exhaustion, a twinge of failure and more than a little disappointment. I refuse to not do fun things with the kids because there are four. Today was a tough day that was filled with obstacles and disasters. Some I took in stride and others I bombed conpletely. It started last night.
My husband was working out of town, but in state and he asked me to come down for the evening and spend the night so he could give me a break with the kids. Before the twins it would have been a quick yes, but packing for 4 kids overnight is a big task. I threw caution to the wind, agreed, and prepared myself for our first road trip.
While I loaded up the car, the sausage dog ran out, and took off through the neighborhood. Luckily, I have the best neighbors on the planet and they helped me capture the dog and it was a small set back on our departure. The drive was easy, all the kids did great and we even arrived earlier than scheduled. I checked in to the hotel with no issues, and even was able to drag our luggage up to the room while pushing the stroller and not losing the older two kids. I bought dinner and had the kids sit down to eat right away, and I went to work on getting the babies settled. My daughter ran to the restroom at one point to use the potty, and then she went back to eating. The phone in the room rings and it is the front desk.
The people below us complained about the noise of a herd of children stomping their feet. Really!? First off, it is not even 5pm. Secondly, shut up. They offer to move our room and upgrade to a suite, but there is no chance I can relocate all of our stuff alone. They opted to move the people downstairs.
We left to go meet my husband on his dinner break, and the kids were so excited to see him. It was a heartwarming moment, until my son comes over with a wet pant complaint. I take him to the car and discover a watery, awful diaper is the cause. Super. I clean him up and we head back to the hotel for swim time at the pool.
My husband was working out of town, but in state and he asked me to come down for the evening and spend the night so he could give me a break with the kids. Before the twins it would have been a quick yes, but packing for 4 kids overnight is a big task. I threw caution to the wind, agreed, and prepared myself for our first road trip.
While I loaded up the car, the sausage dog ran out, and took off through the neighborhood. Luckily, I have the best neighbors on the planet and they helped me capture the dog and it was a small set back on our departure. The drive was easy, all the kids did great and we even arrived earlier than scheduled. I checked in to the hotel with no issues, and even was able to drag our luggage up to the room while pushing the stroller and not losing the older two kids. I bought dinner and had the kids sit down to eat right away, and I went to work on getting the babies settled. My daughter ran to the restroom at one point to use the potty, and then she went back to eating. The phone in the room rings and it is the front desk.
The people below us complained about the noise of a herd of children stomping their feet. Really!? First off, it is not even 5pm. Secondly, shut up. They offer to move our room and upgrade to a suite, but there is no chance I can relocate all of our stuff alone. They opted to move the people downstairs.
We left to go meet my husband on his dinner break, and the kids were so excited to see him. It was a heartwarming moment, until my son comes over with a wet pant complaint. I take him to the car and discover a watery, awful diaper is the cause. Super. I clean him up and we head back to the hotel for swim time at the pool.
Scare Free Sunday
We have season passes to World's of Fun. This is the second time we have bought them while I was pregnant and unable to ride anything. Since the twins were almost 5 weeks old I had the brillant idea to go on the weekend that my husband had to work. I enlisted the help of our 17 year old neighbor because if my son was his normal self I was going to need an extra set of hands. With every outing I learn more ways to travel with the crew, and they all had shoes for sure this time.
The park has a huge halloween crowd for Friday and Saturday nights. The place is like a giant scary haunted playground for people who enjoy that type of thing. I am a sane individual that finds that sort of thing unappealing. However, the park does want to continue getting the family guests to visit and they have come up with "Scare free Sundays" so you can enjoy Camp Snoopy without the walking zombies. Great idea. In theory.
Since I never seem to find outings close to home, we once again take a rather lengthy trip to our destination of Snoopy fun. My daughter is over the moon excited, almost shrieking in the car as we approach the parking lot. The logistics for the easiest way to take 4 kids through the theme park were a bit difficult, almost like an algebraric equation. I decided on single stroller for the toddler, double infant stroller for the twins and the oldest could walk fine on her own. Granted, we were a sight. To wait for us to pass was like watching a parade, and people cannot help but to comment on how full my hands are, or whisper about the "teen mom" which my friend took in stride.
We arrive at the entrance to the park and the kids ride the first ride of the day, the carousel. I am oblivious at this point to the decorations and scary music pumping through the loud speakers. As are the kids. We move on, starting the walk to snoopy and
my daughter starts to shield her eyes and grabs my hand. It is a bit tough to push the double stroller and hold her hand, but no big deal, we push onward. We are almost to Camp Snoopy when I see that she is sobbing and walking with her eyes squeezed shut. Not a good sign. Again, a decision must be made. Do we scrap the trip? Not this mom. I halfway pick her up and the six of us sprint towards the safety of the kids area.
Winded, and a bit flustered I foolishly think we are in the clear. One look at my daughter proves otherwise. I attempt to reason with her. No dice. I try the toughen up approach. No luck. I shamelessly praise my toddler who is such a brave kid that he is enjoying his time and not scared a bit. Sobs. Now I have hurt her feelings and insulted her courage. Logic wins out. If we leave to go home we have to walk back through the scary dead people and the skeletons, so why not just ride some rides and have some fun?
Fun times ended shortly thereafter with my son's massive meltdown, a clear indication of a needed naptime. With a brief pep talk we begin the trip back through the dead guys towards the exit. My daughter is behind me, using my sweatshirt as a blindfold and is stepping on my heels as we shuffle our way out. It is a slow, heart wrenching walk. She is screaming and crying and I cannot make her calm down. We finally reach the entrance and I am furious. I am mad at myself for scarring my daughter, I am mad at the park for false advertisement, and finally, I am mad at my husband who I blame for all bad things.
Safe in the car, we strike a deal to not return again past September. We head out again with the promise of ice cream and the guarantee she will be sleeping in my bed until further notice.
The park has a huge halloween crowd for Friday and Saturday nights. The place is like a giant scary haunted playground for people who enjoy that type of thing. I am a sane individual that finds that sort of thing unappealing. However, the park does want to continue getting the family guests to visit and they have come up with "Scare free Sundays" so you can enjoy Camp Snoopy without the walking zombies. Great idea. In theory.
Since I never seem to find outings close to home, we once again take a rather lengthy trip to our destination of Snoopy fun. My daughter is over the moon excited, almost shrieking in the car as we approach the parking lot. The logistics for the easiest way to take 4 kids through the theme park were a bit difficult, almost like an algebraric equation. I decided on single stroller for the toddler, double infant stroller for the twins and the oldest could walk fine on her own. Granted, we were a sight. To wait for us to pass was like watching a parade, and people cannot help but to comment on how full my hands are, or whisper about the "teen mom" which my friend took in stride.
We arrive at the entrance to the park and the kids ride the first ride of the day, the carousel. I am oblivious at this point to the decorations and scary music pumping through the loud speakers. As are the kids. We move on, starting the walk to snoopy and
my daughter starts to shield her eyes and grabs my hand. It is a bit tough to push the double stroller and hold her hand, but no big deal, we push onward. We are almost to Camp Snoopy when I see that she is sobbing and walking with her eyes squeezed shut. Not a good sign. Again, a decision must be made. Do we scrap the trip? Not this mom. I halfway pick her up and the six of us sprint towards the safety of the kids area.
Winded, and a bit flustered I foolishly think we are in the clear. One look at my daughter proves otherwise. I attempt to reason with her. No dice. I try the toughen up approach. No luck. I shamelessly praise my toddler who is such a brave kid that he is enjoying his time and not scared a bit. Sobs. Now I have hurt her feelings and insulted her courage. Logic wins out. If we leave to go home we have to walk back through the scary dead people and the skeletons, so why not just ride some rides and have some fun?
Fun times ended shortly thereafter with my son's massive meltdown, a clear indication of a needed naptime. With a brief pep talk we begin the trip back through the dead guys towards the exit. My daughter is behind me, using my sweatshirt as a blindfold and is stepping on my heels as we shuffle our way out. It is a slow, heart wrenching walk. She is screaming and crying and I cannot make her calm down. We finally reach the entrance and I am furious. I am mad at myself for scarring my daughter, I am mad at the park for false advertisement, and finally, I am mad at my husband who I blame for all bad things.
Safe in the car, we strike a deal to not return again past September. We head out again with the promise of ice cream and the guarantee she will be sleeping in my bed until further notice.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Little Brothers
My oldest is an angel. She is sweet, loving, and will forgive you for anything provided you give her enough sugary dessert options. With the arrival of our son, I was expecting a similar temperment from him. I could not have had more opposite kids.
As an infant he was more demanding. Cried more, and seemed to be judging you. He would defy reason. Screams that were so alarming that we had a sitter call and ask me to come home because she was convinced he was crying in pain and she was unable to console him. He was a calm baby if I was around, but he would torture anyone else.
Fast forward to toddler years. He is a sweet boy, in general. Hell on wheels, but in a sweet way. He is on the go non stop, and in turn makes our awareness levels on high alert 24/7. Its exhausting. When a baby becomes mobile, you childproof the house. He seemed to take our safety measures as a challenge. The outlet covers were like flying projectiles for his amusement, the baby gates a mere nuisance in his plot of destruction. Cribs were trampolines, the stairs amusement park rides and we never knew what level of terror he was going to unleash on us. Yellow? Orange? Is orange even a threat level? Or do we go right to red alert, all hands on deck-the boy has lost his mind.
We are lucky that our oldest is a reporter. She does not engage in the said destruction, nor does she attempt to prevent it. She will walk calmly up to you, almost bored, and say," You better come and see. He is being really dangerous." And you run around tbe house to find what disaster awaits. Did he color the dog again, the walls? Maybe he just ate the markers. She will follow us as we race to the scene, and only answer the exact question you ask and not a piece of information more. She will watch our reaction, and then counsel our son afterwards. "Mama gets scared when you climb the outside of the stairs. It's really dangerous. You don't want boo boo's do you?"
Speaking of boo boo's, he has incurred 3 while typing this.
As an infant he was more demanding. Cried more, and seemed to be judging you. He would defy reason. Screams that were so alarming that we had a sitter call and ask me to come home because she was convinced he was crying in pain and she was unable to console him. He was a calm baby if I was around, but he would torture anyone else.
Fast forward to toddler years. He is a sweet boy, in general. Hell on wheels, but in a sweet way. He is on the go non stop, and in turn makes our awareness levels on high alert 24/7. Its exhausting. When a baby becomes mobile, you childproof the house. He seemed to take our safety measures as a challenge. The outlet covers were like flying projectiles for his amusement, the baby gates a mere nuisance in his plot of destruction. Cribs were trampolines, the stairs amusement park rides and we never knew what level of terror he was going to unleash on us. Yellow? Orange? Is orange even a threat level? Or do we go right to red alert, all hands on deck-the boy has lost his mind.
We are lucky that our oldest is a reporter. She does not engage in the said destruction, nor does she attempt to prevent it. She will walk calmly up to you, almost bored, and say," You better come and see. He is being really dangerous." And you run around tbe house to find what disaster awaits. Did he color the dog again, the walls? Maybe he just ate the markers. She will follow us as we race to the scene, and only answer the exact question you ask and not a piece of information more. She will watch our reaction, and then counsel our son afterwards. "Mama gets scared when you climb the outside of the stairs. It's really dangerous. You don't want boo boo's do you?"
Speaking of boo boo's, he has incurred 3 while typing this.
Twins
On my first visit to the obgyn she felt that I needed an ultrasound because "she had a
feeling" that we needed to make sure everything was normal. In the ten minutes that I waited, panic rushing through me, I had no way of knowing I would not feel "normal" again. I text my husband that I was sent to have an ultrasound and he was now nervous too. I mean, we have been through this before this was our third pregnancy. We go in, pee in a cup and ta da! Yes, the at home test you took was correct. You are officially expecting. The ultrasound happens later.
So as I wait, I prepare myself for bad news. Its finally my turn and I go in the room. Since I am nervous I start babbling on and on, actually annoying myself. The tech is great, smiles and says to me, "Oh! That's why she wanted an ultrasound, there are two. Twins. Congratulations!" I stared at the screen and the first thing I did was cry. Then I thought of what my husband, who is a twin, would say. Then, I just stared again. The tech printed the pic and typed twins on the screen to help provide validity for me to break the news to him.
I had both kids with me since like I said I thought it was a simple appointment. Now I am suppose to meet him for dinner at a restaurant and somehow say the words to change our lives forever. Clutching my picture, I numbly accepted the office staff's congratulatory remarks, as I herded the kids out the door. Twins. Two. Doubling our amount of kids. Double the pregnancy risks and weight.
I called as I left the office, reassured him that everything looked ok, and that I would meet him at the restaurant. I kept quiet while we were seated, while drinks were ordered and my daughter excitedly reported that the Dr had a fish that looked just like Nemo in her office, and then I could not take it anymore! I was going to burst, so I calmly slid the ultrasound photo across the table. The smile he was giving our daughter, clearly amused by her story, slid off his face. He jumped up asked me what? Then he asked if it was for real. He is kinda chanting "No way" and still standing. We are in a restaurant, and I am starting to feel he may not be as happy about this as me, when the server came back with drinks, and he apologized to the server and explained his odd behavior. He laughs a real, full belly laugh and reaches across the table, grabs my face and kisses my cheek. I am relieved he is happy, and I am getting emotional at the thought of how much I love him when he says to the server, who was feeling out of place by now, "I am having twins, man! Take all of this back, I just want crackers and water." There you have it. A father of twins for all of two minutes and he is already concerned about financial limitations.
feeling" that we needed to make sure everything was normal. In the ten minutes that I waited, panic rushing through me, I had no way of knowing I would not feel "normal" again. I text my husband that I was sent to have an ultrasound and he was now nervous too. I mean, we have been through this before this was our third pregnancy. We go in, pee in a cup and ta da! Yes, the at home test you took was correct. You are officially expecting. The ultrasound happens later.
So as I wait, I prepare myself for bad news. Its finally my turn and I go in the room. Since I am nervous I start babbling on and on, actually annoying myself. The tech is great, smiles and says to me, "Oh! That's why she wanted an ultrasound, there are two. Twins. Congratulations!" I stared at the screen and the first thing I did was cry. Then I thought of what my husband, who is a twin, would say. Then, I just stared again. The tech printed the pic and typed twins on the screen to help provide validity for me to break the news to him.
I had both kids with me since like I said I thought it was a simple appointment. Now I am suppose to meet him for dinner at a restaurant and somehow say the words to change our lives forever. Clutching my picture, I numbly accepted the office staff's congratulatory remarks, as I herded the kids out the door. Twins. Two. Doubling our amount of kids. Double the pregnancy risks and weight.
I called as I left the office, reassured him that everything looked ok, and that I would meet him at the restaurant. I kept quiet while we were seated, while drinks were ordered and my daughter excitedly reported that the Dr had a fish that looked just like Nemo in her office, and then I could not take it anymore! I was going to burst, so I calmly slid the ultrasound photo across the table. The smile he was giving our daughter, clearly amused by her story, slid off his face. He jumped up asked me what? Then he asked if it was for real. He is kinda chanting "No way" and still standing. We are in a restaurant, and I am starting to feel he may not be as happy about this as me, when the server came back with drinks, and he apologized to the server and explained his odd behavior. He laughs a real, full belly laugh and reaches across the table, grabs my face and kisses my cheek. I am relieved he is happy, and I am getting emotional at the thought of how much I love him when he says to the server, who was feeling out of place by now, "I am having twins, man! Take all of this back, I just want crackers and water." There you have it. A father of twins for all of two minutes and he is already concerned about financial limitations.
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