Today we had the vision specialist in.

It was a last minute sort of deal.  The PT was coming, and she called last night (at 8:30!  HELLO, baby bedtime!) to ask if the vision woman could come too.  Aww, sure, why the hell not.

Wait, WHY the hell not?  Oh, because Daniel didn’t really sleep much last night, and didn’t nap at ALL this morning until 4 minutes before they knocked on my door, and Andrew had been screaming for 38 minutes?  I didn’t really need two people here, and Daniel woke up at the sound of voices.  UGH.  The kid.  He needs sleep.

But whatever.  They came.  They asked a bunch of questions, and because I am sleep-deprived and more than a little bit bitchy this week, I told the truth.  “I don’t KNOW.  I don’t have time to sit around and contemplate his every move.  If he’s not screaming, he’s clean, and he’s fed, it’s a rare moment indeed.”

I’ve been blunt this week, clearly.  I told the nutrionist I refuse to count his calories anymore.  It’s just not worth my effort and I really don’t have the effort to spare.

So they played with him a bunch and what came out of it was “shiny toys” and “maybe some more light in here” (it’s dim, yes, but I’m trying to encourage napping!  When everyone is awake the blinds get opened more.)  She doesn’t think anything is WRONG, per se.  Just that seeing things is hard work.  And when eating is hard work, and sitting is hard work and EVERYTHING is hard work, there are going to be blips in his vision.  It should get better, in time.

Just like everything else.

Just like I always said.

He needs TIME.  To grow, to get stronger, to practice this whole living thing.   Why is no one else willing to just give him time?

In other news, Andrew is a monster with the bottles lately.  I had to physically restrain him AGAIN this morning.  The thing is, I know he’s hungry.  He just fights against the bottle SO HARD, until hunger overtakes him and he gobbles it down.  It’s killing me.  I get angry, he gets angry, we’re both upset and frustrated.  We upped his reflux meds earlier this week.  If this doesn’t start getting better over the weekend I’m going to ask the pedi on Monday either if she needs to see Andrew (it’s just a visit for Daniel), if we should see a GI, or if we’re missing the mark on this being reflux.

My arm is nearly better, FINALLY.  It’s been 2 1/2 weeks.  Now as long as I wrap it in the morning and don’t do anything STUPID, I can get through the day without much pain.  Hopefully I can stop wrapping it soon and be fine.  I’m glad it’s healing though, I was worried there for awhile when it seemed to be getting worse instead of better.

We’re still not sure what will happen with the AC.  It’s fully installed now, and it’s LOVELY.  Seriously, if you have an older house and want AC without the expense/hassle of ductwork, look into the ductless.  It really does get the WHOLE house quickly cooled to the same temperature (within a degree, at the end of the house away from the units), and it’s virtually silent.   The contractor hasn’t called us after his no-show on Monday.  I feel guilty for not calling him to sort out payment.  We are obviously not paying for the newer units, but reverting back to the original estimate for the units we did get - we could probably fight it out more, but I’m not sure we will.  But we’d ALSO like a discount because of the nearly FIVE HOURS the electrician took up on Tuesday.  If I hadn’t been home anyways, that would have been nearly a full day of lost wages.  We’ll see when and if he calls us.

And finally, my parents are driving me nutty.  They KEEP CALLING.  I’m talking 3-4 times a day.  And on Tuesday they showed up unannounced.  It’s as if I’m not doing anything here!  They couldn’t understand why the babies kept crying - their nap got interrupted, AGAIN.  They need sleep!  That means no talking in loud voices, no turning on the bright overhead lights, no pulling out crazy toys.  We bounce, we rock, they sleep.  That way when they wake up they don’t cry.  Magic!  They also refuse to accept that I named my children Andrew and Daniel and until we decide otherwise we would like them to be called Andrew and Daniel.  Not Andy, not Drew, not Dan, not Danny.  It’s frustrating the hell out of me, because nearly 7 months later I still can’t break them of the habit, even though I have NEVER called them Andy or Danny.   They want to do something with us for the 4th.  I’ve decided I just don’t wanna.  Which means I’m ignoring the phone.  Makes life easier.

That’s about it from around here.  Nuttiness and a non-diagnosis.  Pretty average.

We had AC installed yesterday.

I’m sweating my ass off today.

Hopefully that will change soon, but I’m not holding my breath.

If you’ll recall we had a damned hard time deciding to do this and then getting a contractor to agree to do it.  Our money must be tainted or something.  (As a side note, we got another opinion on a boiler and it COULD cost half what the other guy said.  Bastard!)

Well, yesterday was the day.  I sat up in the nursery with the boys, with nothing at my disposal but a bouncer and the rocking chair, as well as their cribs.  It was NOT FUN.  It was hot, it was loud.  But I got to play my Miss Saigon CDs, which I thought I had lost but were really just still in their closet, a leftover from the big clean out interrupted by bedrest.  Nothing like exposing my children to war, prostitution, bastards, greed … good stuff.

Anyways, a couple hours into the ordeal, Matt comes in.  He looks at me and says “They put in the wrong one.  They don’t have the right one.”

I was pissed.  We wanted to do this, but the scale-tipping factor was the newer models.  More efficient for not that much more money.  We used their efficiency levels in doing our calculations.

The kicker is they didn’t TELL US ahead of time that they wouldn’t be using the new ones.  We were given no choice if we wanted to continue or not.  It wasn’t until the unit was up on the wall that Matt saw the model number and said “that’s not right.”  They offered to take it down and stop work, no charge incurred - and what, leave us with a 3 inch hole in our wall??  Or we can have this one and when they get new ones, they’ll come back and install the new one.  But not for free, or even for the difference in cost of the units.  For FULL PRICE.  Oooh, what a bargain!

And then .. THEN they tell us “oh, and it doesn’t look like the electrician will be here today to hook these up.”  Oh, REALLY?  Well, praytell, when will this mystical man be coming?  Seeing as how Matt took a full day off of work and can’t just take another.  Oh, he’ll be here tomorrow.  (Which is now today.)  OH, so Matt has to work, and I’m going to have to juggle the electrician, nutrionist and two children.  In the brain-melting humidity.  Oh, now, there’s some fun.

At least the dog is still at my parent’s house.

But seriously, in what world can you just EXPECT that the homeowner CAN be home the next day?  People schedule work to be done, they plan for it to be done on THAT DAY.  and then they get told “oh, sorry, you’ll need to be home tomorrow TOO”.  It doesn’t work that way.

So we were, rightly, pissed off.  And we let the salesman/owner know.  And he said he would be coming by at 4.  We assumed this was just to “smooth things over” and not do the final walkthrough and payment.  Seeing as how until the thing is WORKING we’re not handing over a penny.

Well, 4 came.  And 4 went.  And 5 came and went.  And he did not.

This is the SECOND time he’s blown off a meeting with us.

We spent all night being pissed off.

And now the electrician is here, hooking it up.  In theory.  And after that?  We’re done.  We’re not calling the contractor.  We’re not calling anybody.  If they want their money, they’re damned well going to have to make the effort to get it.  I’m done chasing after these people saying “PLEASE take our MONEY”.  And beyond that there had better be some compensation for, at the very least, our additional time this morning.

Why do we have such bad luck with contractors?

Stay tuned.  Our paint is peeling and it’s still under warranty.  Now there should be a good fight.  Would it be bad of me to pull out Daniel’s full medical file (which is about 3 inches thick) and show it to them saying it COULD ALL BE from exposure to the TOXIC FUMES that they didn’t warn me about?   (They started painting a day early.  With oil instead of latex.  And I had to BREAK their plastic barriers to GET OUT.)   Because it’s damned tempting.

Ugh.  I hate contractors.  How on earth do they stay in business?

 

The end of last week I got chastised for being so negative about everything.  After all, I WANTED these babies.  I TRIED for these babies.  How dare I not be OVER THE MOON about these babies ALL THE TIME.

Instead of thinking “I want to puncture my ear drums if that kid screams one more time”, I’m apparently supposed to think “Thank you God that my child has such good strong lungs.”  And instead of “They’re MONSTERS”, they are “precious little gifts from heaven teaching me the wonders of unconditional love.”

This is all from a person who thinks that you just “give the baby a bottle, burp him, rock him for a couple of minutes, and then he’s off to dreamland.”

If by “give the baby a bottle” he means “wrestle the child and force the nipple into his mouth until his options are swallow or choke” and “a couple of minutes” is 120, and “dreamland” means “Screechville”, he’s got Andrew nailed!  Otherwise, notsomuch.  As for Daniel, it’s more along the lines of “coax into taking 3 sips; move nipple to trick him into a couple more; repeat until some reasonable quantity has been swallowed.  spend half hour burping.  Repeat.”  Though the rest is the same.

And since he clearly has NO IDEA what it is like to live with MY CHILDREN I really wish he would just shove his ”you’re so negative” opinions where the sun don’t shine.  If you ask me how things are going and at that particular time things are sucking, I’m going to tell you so.  It doesn’t mean I don’t love and enjoy my children, just that I live in the real world where babies aren’t all sweet and cute all the time.  But what the hell.  Just for this post, I’ll can the negativity and tell you about the past few days, shall I?

My leg is a LOVELY shade of purple, because my Andrew, he has SUCH STRONG LEGS.  Isn’t it wonderful?  And the arm strength I’m developing from holding him (down) while I (force) feed him.  Wow.  I mean, I always wanted some good solid muscles in my arms.

And that formula, it’s just so fragrant and lovely on my skin and hair.  I love the way it bubbles up out of his mouth on the tip of a scream and just sprays everywhere.  I love how our feedings take an hour of physical activity and screaming - it’s such good exercise!

Daniel’s formula is even more lovely.  He even lovingly spread it all over the couch, so that we are never without that yummy aroma.  The dog nicely decided to lick it, also.  It is just absolutely wonderful.

And having my crotch soaked with it was just so refreshing.  How often do you get a nice splash of milk in your underwear?  It’s a nice change from the norm.

Being woken up every hour or so at night is so relieving.  I never have to wake up and wonder “are my children still breathing?” because there it is.  That wonderful sound of crying.  And what with not falling into a deep sleep, I have and remember so many more dreams.

And holding my children ALL DAY LONG, it’s just .. wow.  I never get quite enough of their soft sweaty little bodies clinging close to mine.  It’s saving on our water bill, seeing as how I can’t make it to that water-wasting toilet.  And our electricity because I can’t open that refrigerator or use any kitchen appliance.  These kids.  The way they look out for me.  It’s so sweet.

I love how they scream at strangers now.  It just makes me feel so special and loved when only Mommy will do.  And the way they refuse to sleep even when they’re tired - it really makes you feel special when they love you SOO much they can’t bear to close their eyes and stop looking at you.

The way Daniel flops over in his carseat is so special too.  We were so sad to take that dingy hospital blanket out of his carseat, thinking his head was strong enough to go without now.  Instead we get to put it right back in!

Meanwhile, it was so nice of that painting company last year to not properly prep all of the wood.  I just LOVE that aged crackling look of peeling paint.  I so missed that being part of my everyday view as I looked up the side of our house.  I just can’t wait until the day they seal me into the house again and I have to flee the paint fumes again.  Last year I was merely pregnant, this year I’ll have two infants in tow.  I love a good challenge!

And WOW, the AC company installing the wrong product and not telling us AND not being able to fix it until next year at which point they’re not willing?  I thought my day was going to be dull.  But no!  I got to spend the whole morning in the nursery rocking my precious angels to sleep over and over and over again - who doesn’t love a good rocking chair?   It was so nice to get 5 consecutive hours of use out of it!  And then to find out it was the wrong things being installed - what a SURPRISE!  Then with the electrician maybe not coming until tomorrow when I’ll be home alone with the babies.  I love an opportunity to rework our schedules and routines and practice some new baby juggling skills!

Sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops all around!

We’re having a sleep strike.

I don’t know, contracts must have expired and negotiations are frozen.  I didn’t get any sort of WRITTEN notice, but there it is, right in front of me.  A picket line.

“Sleep is for wussies.”

“No no, we won’t go (to bed).”

“Wah wah wah.”

You get the idea.  It’s ugly.  There will be no scabs in this strike, it seems.  There will be no sleep until their demands are met.

Now if only they’d TELL me what they want …

I fought them all day yesterday.  They just would not nap.  I offered them gifts, money, my firstborn … ok, well I offered the firstborn to Daniel and the secondborn to Andrew because frankly being offered YOURSELF isn’t quite as enticing as enslaving your brother for life.  Still no go.

I got little bits of sleep out of them here and there.  It was a hard fight, and it never lasted more than a few minutes.

Finally after about 12 hours I snapped and yelled.  Yelling at babies is never a proud moment in life, but it’s a damned sight better than SHAKING babies.  Matt got all high and mighty like “do you really think yelling is going to help matters?”  Again, better than shaking, and so, yes.  If it relieves the tension and no one winds up physically harmed, sign me up.

Well, he disagreed, and thus he got put in charge of the kids.  If you don’t like the way I do something, well, let’s see you do better.

I went to take a bath, and my bathtub is disgusting.  Holy hell.  I’m going to need like 3 hours and 8 different cleaning products to get that thing into shape again.  Once my arm is better.  By THEN I’ll need 5 hours, a chisel, and 15 cleaning products.

Anyways.  3 hours into his caretaking, he had fed Andrew (while I took care of Daniel, I’m not ENTIRELY heartless), put Andrew to bed.  Put Andrew to bed AGAIN.  Fed Daniel.  Put Daniel to bed.  Put Andrew to bed.  Put Daniel to bed.  And that’s about when he (literally) hit the wall.  WHY WON’T THEY SLEEP?, he says.

Aaah, I’m NOT so crazy, AM I?  That’s damned frustrating, ISN’T IT?

They were up every 20-ish minutes until 4 AM.  He refused to let them cry it out.  I was totally burned out and just kept saying “CLOSE THE DOOR and let the FUSS”.  I’m not generally a fan of letting the kids cry their troubles out, but it was well out of hand.  I think he wound up feeding them, and got them to sleep.  Not sure.  In any case I was up at 6:30 with them.

And again, there is no easy sleeping here.  It is a tooth-and-nail fight to get them to nap for 20 minutes.

Finally after lunch, I had had it.  They were both fed.  They were both crying - even if I held them.  So I did something I very rarely do.  I put them up in their cribs, flipped on the mobiles, and WALKED AWAY.

I mean, the options were a) yell at the babies, completely with crazy arm movements; b) shake the babies (bad bad!); c) put them in their cribs.  I really didn’t see any OTHER options, and aren’t we all proud I chose the sanest of the bunch?

Well, the plan half worked.  Half an hour later I went up to check.  (What did I do with that half hour?  Laid down in peace and quiet.)  Daniel was sound asleep.

Andrew?  COVERED IN VOMIT.

I feel bad.  I changed him and sponged him off.  Put him to sleep on my chest.  I’m actually ignoring Daniel’s cries now to get Andrew a bit more of a nap.  Which isn’t helping the guilt either, just redistributing it.

I feel so bad that he was up there rolling in his own puke while I was happily lounging.  And at the same time, I know that there was nothing I could have done differently, really.  He’s a spitty sort of kid, he would have spit up anyway.  He just wouldn’t have been ROLLING in it.  But what am I supposed to do?  Hold him for every time he wants to sleep until he gets married and his wife can take over?  I mean, that’s how it feels sometimes.

I occasionally tell a babyless friend about my struggles with the eating and the sleeping.  And she repeatedly marvels at how we manage to survive as a species.  Seriously.  If eating and sleeping are just SO HARD for them to learn how to do, how are we still surviving??  Evolution is a screwy business.

So, I’ll confess.  I used to watch Little House on the Prairie.  Ok, yeah, sometimes I still do, when a favorite episode is on, or I’m sick of the History Channel and the Discovery Channel.  And sometimes my favorite episodes are the ones where I can make fun of things.  In fact, Matt and I watched a whole week’s worth once just because we were having fun making fun of it.

Tell me I’m not alone.  You watched it too, right?

Anyways, some of our favorite episodes to make fun of are the ones where Mary goes blind.  Not because blindness is funny, but because the acting is so over the top.  And because of the Blind School.  Dude, there are MIRRORS in the rooms for the students.  HELLO, they can’t SEE.  And the lamps in the rooms.  Uh?   Isn’t that just a fire hazard, seeing as how it’s not helping anybody?  (And yes, there are different levels of vision loss in the real world, but it never seemed so in the Little House world, and thus it’s perfectly acceptable to make fun of.  It would be different if they ever had someone going to these schools that had SOME sight.)  And because we’re 4, it’s fun to talk back to the TV when they say things like “I can SEE that.”  No, no you can’t.  They say things like that every other line with the blind people, and not really much with the rest of the characters.  I swear one of the writers had a sick sense of humor.

Yes, I know, if we were talking about real people we’d be awful.  But we’re not.  We’re talking about a corny TV show with some pretty awful acting and writing.  Even if Mary Ingalls was real and really went blind, she was nothing like the TV character.

Aww, hell, why am I defending myself?  You either see the humor or you don’t.  I’m not trying to be offensive, though I’m sure someone out there will think I am, even though I’ve said repeatedly we’re only making fun of the TV show here, nothing in real life.

MOVING ON.  From the time Mary goes blind until Mary leaves the show, there’s always a “Blind School”.  And that’s what they call it, regardless of the fact that it has a real name.  It’s the “Blind School”.

Well, last time we saw the pedi we brought up Daniel’s eye issues again.  Wondering if we needed to hit the optho again.  (And I sort of mean that in both the “visit’ and “beat up” ways because it’s like baby torture and it’s hard to restrain yourself from beating someone hurting your kid.)  Or if it was just some lingering immaturities.  And she said we should probably hit the optho guy again before he’s a year old, but no rush.  And then I remembered, the PT had mentioned that EI has vision people.  Should I have them come in, and push the optho off until the fall?  The pedi thought it was a great plan.  Going through EI means it’s FREE (well, basically, we’ve already paid for it, but it was cheap) and they come to US.  Matt wouldn’t need to take time off work, nor would I have to drag both babies alone, NOR would we have to traumatize the kid.  Big score, all around, right?

So the PT was out a couple days after that and I mentioned to her that we’d like to see the vision people, just for another opinion.  And she said she’d give them a call, and said where they were from.

The local school for the blind.

The BLIND SCHOOL.

And she felt the need to reassure me that it didn’t mean Daniel was blind.  And I looked at her and was like “well, yeah, I KNOW.  What with him needing EYE CONTACT to eat and LOOKING at me and smiling, tracking objects with his eyes, loving mobiles … I think I figured out that he can SEE.”

So even though this school has a formal name, I find myself calling it the blind school.

It’s just like Little House!

They called yesterday to enroll us in their program.  And again, assure me that they worked with kids with the full spectrum of vision problems not just blind kids.  I guess a lot of people panic about this, but … I’m just not.  He can see.  Even if he couldn’t, there are a lot worse things that could be wrong with a child.  There are a lot worse things that still could be wrong with HIM.  I just can’t get worked up in a tizzy about it.

We talked a bit about what’s up with his eyes and what other people have said.  She thinks perhaps his field of vision is skewed from the norm, and there might be some lazy eye or immaturity going on.  Someone will come out and evaluate him, soon-ish.  It’s just something to be dealing with now, before the neural pathways get fully formed.  It’s a lot easier to change something in a baby who is still developing so quickly than it is in an older child.

I’m thinking of pulling out family pictures from my side of the family to show her before she even tries to start harping on the shape and set of his eyes.  It’s a family trait.  Move on.  Yeah, I’m a bit defensive about that one.  His eyes look like my eyes, so when people say his eyes look “funny” it’s like they’re saying I look funny too.  So it’s a double-whammy insult.

Hopefully it will all turn out to be nothing, like everything else.  Then people can stop harping on it.

And I can stop referring to the blind school.

Because really, every time I say it, I get a vision of Little House in my head.  And that’s just scary.

 

*Oh and guess what was on today?  The “Mary goes blind” epsidoes!  Ha.  Too funny.  The look on her face when she figures out it’s a mirror.  Oh funny funny.

And the most obvious lamp uses were when Mary married the blind teacher and then they shared a room.  So two blind people, at night, with a lit lamp in their bedroom.  Makes all the sense in the world.  And then they go and leave their first born in a burning building and that other poor lady tries to use it to break the window to get out. 

Ok, yeah, I’ve watched that show too much.  Clearly.  But bedrest, 3 times in the past 4 years.  You start to just watch any old thing, so long as it’s not narrated by Edward Herrmann.  (He does so much of the History Channel stuff.  He’s on my TV right now.  The boys find it soothing.)

The kids.  I swear.  They’ve got some sort of pact.  They want to kill me.  They conspire in the middle of the night to make sure I will be as insane as possible the next day.  It may SOUND like “ah-ba-ba-ga-da”, but it means “You get up early, I’ll keep her up late.”  And “ma-da-ah-ba-ga” means “I’ll throw up and then you start screaming”.

I’m onto them.

Yesterday they were kind.  It was only a 17 hour day of non-stop baby care.  Only one projectile vomit (not onto me!  though I did have to perform the bath) and 2 rejected feedings.  One of which caused me to um … well, you know that arm that’s been hurting?  Yes, I now did something that caused a burning bruised feeling around my elbow and a shooting pain down my forearm.  I’m trying heat ALL day today, and if that doesn’t make it any better I think I’ll be visiting my doctor.

Monday was an 18 hour day.  Non-stop.  See?  They’re TRYING to KILL me.

We’re working on a new diagnosis for Daniel.  A little knowledge of the GI tract and a little Dr. Google later, I’m starting to think he has delayed gastric emptying.  It goes hand in hand with reflux which we KNOW he has, but since it doesn’t affect his eating to medicate him and he throws up the meds nine times out of ten … but if I’m RIGHT, there are other meds, and THOSE would potentially help him eat MORE.  (Gain more weight, develop quicker, all that good stuff.)  I mean, it just doesn’t seem right that 3 hours after he eats he manages to throw up nearly an entire bottle’s worth of formula.  And I’ve been TOLD that they generally consider 30-45 minutes the amount of time it takes to get out of the stomach.  (As per a pedi during the rotavirus fun.)  We’re back at the pedi soon enough to discuss it then.

Andrew has been refusing bottles lately.  Let me know if you have any insight - it will have been a good 4 hours since his last bottle (his normal interval).  I offer it to him, he refuses.  Bites the nipple, spills milk everywhere.  I give up, he starts crying.  I offer again, same thing.  I put him down to play, he cries.  He’s already been changed.  He’s getting tired.  He won’t eat.  It doesn’t seem like he’s in pain - certainly not from reflux, and I’ve TRIED teething gel which has worked in the past when he’s had teething pain during feeding.  And somewhere around an hour later after much rocking, singing, and coaxing, I’ll get him started on it and he’ll drain the bottle in 5 minutes.  Now, you might say he’s just not hungry after 4 hours and I should wait 5 … but I start when he’s already getting cranky with no reason OTHER than hunger.  And it really does go something like: 7:30 - no; 7:45-no; 8:00 - no; 8:15 - no; 8:30 - EAT IT ALL.  So you’d think that at 8:15 he’d at least be a LITTLE hungry and eat SOME even if he didn’t want it all.  Right?  I mean, that’s the way he’s been in the past.  I’m confused.

If only they’d eat and nap, they’d be such fun kids.  Really.  We have a blast playing together.  It’s the fight to get enough food into them and get them some rest … it’s really detracting from the enjoyment level.

And I’m tired of people feeling the need to tell me that “it gets better”.  Yes, I’m AWARE of that.  I’m not STUPID.  They WILL eventually self-feed.  They WILL eventually sleep through the night.  So if nothing ELSE, I won’t be strong-arming them into bottles and endlessly bouncing them to sleep.  They will also be more portable without worrying about toting formula.  And also without worrying about potentially having to force feed in public.  It’s just not pretty.

The nutritionist the other day really bugged on that line of conversation.  “I know the isolation always bothered me.”  Isolation?  No, that would have been 14 weeks on bedrest when I couldn’t go ANYWHERE and my major companion was the cat.  I LIKE being alone.  I don’t like FIGHTING my children for the basics of life.  That’s what gets me.  The fighting.  The struggle.  Not the sleep-deprivation so much, not the work.  Coaxing a baby to eat just isn’t fun.

A lot of times I think - and know - it would be easier if there were only one of them.  If they were spaced a couple of years apart instead of a minute.  It would be a different set of challenges, of course, but not this all-consuming endless cycle of feeding, changing, and soothing.  It’s damned hard to keep two people happy who have no ability to tell you what they need in order TO be happy.  It’s hard to spend 45 minutes coaxing a bottle into one baby, knowing you’ve got another 45 minutes of bottle coaxing ahead of you.  To bounce one to sleep knowing you’ll have to put him down soon - thus waking him up - because the other is about to blow a blood vessel from the screaming.

So a lot of times I do find myself wishing there was only one.  I wouldn’t be outnumbered.  I wouldn’t feel conspired against.  I feel guilty for that thought, sometimes - but it’s not as though I would wish to not have one of them, just that we could have saved one of the embryos for later.

But then, there are times.  When they roll towards each other and grin, with those smiles reserved for people they love.  When they blow bubbles at each other.  When we walk into their room in the morning to find them both tummy-down pushing up to look at each other between the crib slats.

There are times, for sure, when two is no doubt better than one.

• The electric company decided to postpone the four hour outage until a later date.  They’ll let us know.  You know, the same few hours notice.  At least now I know it’s coming and can spend some time figuring out how the hell to deal with it.  The major problem will be heating food - can’t do that with no microwave and no hot water …
• The AC contractor actually did show.  Early.  I was mid-feeding with Daniel, Andrew was screeching, the dog was a wild beast once the doorbell rang.  And on top of all that I am physically incapable of opening the front door - it’s swollen and hard to open, requires two good arms, and I don’t have enough good arms.  (We always use the side door, the front door is just for “show” and to meet those pesky fire codes.)  I yelled out the window that Matt wasn’t home yet, my hands were full and he’d have to wait.  And so he did.
• We’re getting AC installed next week.  Conflicting reports on how long it will take - 4 hours or 8.  If it’s 4, I’ll keep the boys home and just deal; if it’s 8 I’d want to take them elsewhere.  Problem is, of course, we have no way of knowing in advance.   Also, wanna bet that’s the day we’ll lose power?
• We took the boys errand-running on Saturday.  Nearly got into 3 accidents in the parking lot of Whole Foods (one of my least favorite places ever, but they’re the only place that carries my stomach pills).  Got the typical “twin treatment” in BRU, where we were checking out convertible car seats.  Not sure what to do about that - we know which ones we’d choose, all else equal, but no WAY could we fit 2 of those and an infant carseat in a single row if we have another baby before the boys outgrow these carseats.  So we’d have to upgrade to a bigger car (or two! EEK!).  I want a third baby - it’s a foregone conclusion in my head.  But when and if it will happen are big question marks.  We’ve got awhile before we’ll need new carseats, likely.  Just don’t want to suddenly realize Andrew is too tall and have to rush to figure it all out.  Plus I can’t lift him in his seat anymore, so it’s going to have to start living in the car anyways, and the convertible ones are (I think) a bit easier to adjust.
• Our final stop was CVS.  I needed my pills (which DO seem to be working!), Andrew’s meds were running low, and it was a good time to refill Daniel’s formula script.  I stayed in the car with the kids while Matt ran in - we had called it in already, it should have been grab and go.  Except .. they didn’t fill Daniel’s, because “what if we ran out of stock for other people and then you didn’t show?” and Matt was all “what if I showed up and you didn’t have enough for my child?  Would you tell me to call ahead next time?  Because we CALLED AHEAD.”  It took 20 minutes for them to fill it.  During which time I had 2 screaming babies and a lot of curious onlookers.  Fabulous.
• I hurt my arm more.  The pain now goes all the way from my neck to my wrist.  The upper arm is still the worst part.  Not sure what to do - I really don’t feel as though I ripped anything severely enough that they’d DO much beyond telling me to rest it.  Resting it is damned near impossible.  So.  Not sure.
• Daniel is driving me batty.  He’s not eating well.  He’s not eating well because he’s not SLEEPING.  I bounce, jiggle, sing, rock, vibrate, swing, let him cry … none of it gets him to sleep.  And I keep getting told that maybe he just doesn’t NEED that much sleep.  He’s not TIRED.  Except, of course, that he’s yawning like crazy and falling asleep the moment the bottle hits his mouth.
• Daniel is also projectile vomitting avacadoes onto me almost daily.  He likes the flavor, likes to play with it in his mouth, and then as soon as it hits the back of his throat, forget it.  Gag city.  A few tries with gagging, and then we get vomit.  Good times.
• I love my washer and detergent though.  Plenty of avacado puke and no stains.  Also no stains from sweet potatoes, prunes, or any of the other foods or waste products.
• Andrew has discovered the joy of peek-a-boo.  Covering your eyes doesn’t get him, so I hide.  Under the exersaucer.  He spins and leans, looking for me.  And then I pop up, blow a raspberry, and he laughs hysterically.  As soon as he glances away, I do it again.  It also works beside his crib, swing, or around a doorway.  Yes, he’s easily amused it seems.  But then, so am I.  We did it for a solid half hour yesterday.  Matt was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.
• As much as I appreciate the random and generous gifts of clothing people give us, I’m finding an odd number of pink things coming our way lately.  Now, I’m not all “boys must wear blue”, but dude, I’m not putting my boys in girly pink.  Come on!  (It’s mostly, but not entirely hand-me-downs.)  I’m also not into tiny little golfing-type outfits.  Plaid and all.  Yeah.
• We dismantled two of our swings this weekend.  It made me sad.  We’re SELLING one of them.  Like it will be gone from our lives, forever.  Sad sad sad.  The others we’re keeping for that mystical third child and/or to be passed along to anyone else who has a baby.  But the plain truth is we don’t need or have space for 3 swings anymore.  And we can’t store 3 swings indefinitely.  So we’re getting rid of one.
• That made space for extending the baby cage out further into the room.  Totally necessary because the boys have been “fighting”.  It didn’t work - I popped them both in there, on opposite corners, so I could help put groceries away.  I heard screaming, and came in to find them in the middle, kicking each other IN THE HEAD.  I knew it was going to happen eventually. I thought I had more time though.

It’s only 9 in the morning, and here I am annoyed.  Though some of these things have been building all week.

My arms.  My right one is still pretty bad off, and now my left one is joining the party.  It’s stiff and sore.  LOVELY.

The EI nutritionist (and the fact that I mistype that word EVERY TIME).  She called 10 days ago to set up our next appointment.  I emailed her back - she said to call or email her.  Email is easier for me.  She has yet to answer me.  Not that I MUCH care, but it still pisses me off.  Answer people.  It’s your JOB.

The EI vision person.  Personally, I think Daniel’s eyes are fine.  But since everybody else disagrees (except, you know, the 3 opthamologists that have seen him), I conceded and said that this person could come out and do an eval.  And that if THIS person also couldn’t say anything was WRONG we were then DROPPiNG the topic off the radar.  But SHE hasn’t called to schedule EITHER.  I’m fairly sure my phone works.  Really.  It wakes the children frequently.

The electric company, who so kindly called to say that we may lose power for up to 4 hours today.  Thanks for the freaking NOTICE!  They gave me a phone number to call if I had any questions, and I’m tempted to call it.  “Excuse me, what precisely am I to do with two infants, no swing, no white noise, no tv, no phone, no internet, no clock, and no ability to HEAT THEIR FOOD?”  I’d go out, but there’s no where easy to take them.

The AC contractor who is supposed to come out tonight to finalize papers.  Except he said that last week too, and then didn’t.  But at least he called us back when we called to bitch - none of the other contractors would even call us back to schedule an estimate.  Six companies.  Two callbacks.  One that continued to follow through after the initial  estimate.  LOVELY track record, no?  This project is doomed.

Automatic update programs that ASSUME that just because I am not actively typing or mousing they can hijack and reboot my computer.  Because I never have anything up I might want to have UP?  Thanks stupid programs.  Thanks.

The power outlet on my laptop.  The plug falls out every time I move the computer.  At all. It’s really very very annoying, since I need to keep a full charge on this sucker to last me those 4 hours should we lose power.  Even without the internet I can organize files or something to keep sane amid the screaming.

I’m sure there’s more.  But I need to finish my morning internetting before it craps out on me …

I didn’t so much mean to leave people hanging on the last post when I said I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be keeping up on the blogging.

It’s not so much anything anyone else has said or done.  Really.

Part of it is that I feel like I’m BORING.   You know what the big excitement around here today is?  Yogurt makes Andrew poop.  A lot.  Woo-freaking-hoo, right?  Though I guess if you have a 6+ month old baby who is having poo trouble, you might like to know to try yogurt.  But still, it’s not exactly thrilling reading.  It’s not exactly thrilling WRITING.

I suppose part of why I feel boring IS related to something that happened a few weeks back.  Someone disagreed with something I said, and decided to express that disagreement in a way I didn’t appreciate.  I don’t care if someone disagrees, that’s allowed.  You’re even allowed to say you disagree, so long as it’s done respectfully, and you’re not expecting you’re going to change my mind.  But things that were said, and things that have been said in the wake of that make me feel even MORE like I need to censor what I say.  I’ve always somewhat censored things - there are certain parts of myself I’m not really willing to share on a public blog, and I do like to protect my identity to a good extent.   But all of a sudden I find myself not really having the mental energy to deal with another event like that, and therefore sticking to the bland topics that no one can take issue with.  Like how yogurt made Andrew’s poop look like homemade peanut butter.

And censoring myself because of what other people might think is totally against how I blog.  It’s totally against how I LIVE.  I’m very much a “take me as I am” kind of person.  I’m not perfect, I’m far from it.  But I’m also not really tolerant of people who will only be with me if I mold or change to what they want me to be.  It’s like … make-up.  I don’t wear it, unless I’m going to be in some sort of formal pictures, like in somebody else’s wedding.  In fact, the last time I wore makeup was 4 years ago for my brother’s wedding.  I’ve NEVER much worn it - if a guy wasn’t going to date me because I didn’t cover up that pimple on my chin … well, that’s his issue.  I am who I am, flaws and all, and I’m not big on going out of my way to hide those flaws.  I change them when and if I see them as a problem, and not before.

And finally, as you probably know (or should know), I monitor the reader stats on my blog pretty regularly.  Where people are coming in from (both location-wise and link-wise), and how often, and that sort of thing.  It’s done largely out of curiosity.  And lately there’s been some … aberrations.  Some counts have shifted drastically.  Three times now.  And it makes me self-conscious, and more than a little confused.   It’s not just been a reader catching up on old posts, or someone desperately hitting refresh to see if I’ve posted (to see about the poop-of-the-day status?).  It’s activity I haven’t really been able to figure out.

It all sort of adds up to a lot of the fun has been sucked out of this for me.   I’ve been keeping up with it out of habit, and out of a lack of other things to do when I’m buried under a sleeping baby or two.  I’m not sure how to put the fun back into it.

And that’s really the whole story - I need to make it fun again.  I need to be hitting “publish” more often than “save as draft”.  Or else, why continue?

I seem to be at a loss for blogging topics.

That statement is not entirely true - I have several drafts written in the past few days that for some reason I opted to not hit “publish” on.  So I guess I am at a loss for publishable blogging topics.

A few things have happened recently to make me question if I should still be blogging.  I haven’t found an answer to that question yet.

The boys are doing fine.  My arm still hurts.  Not sure what else to talk about.  I’m open to suggestion.