Twinkle Little Star

Foot Funeral

The Burn Center gave us permission for D to see the kids today for half an hour out in the waiting area just outside the unit. He had not seen them in two weeks! My Dad (Grampa Fred) and I went down and my dad stayed with the babies and I went in to get D. It took about 25 minutes to get him up in his chair because of light-headedness and low bp. He had "dressed-up" for the occasion, wearing hospital scrubs instead of a gown and had even had the nurses wash his hair. We came out with his nurse and then another nurse followed because she wanted to see the babies. The nurses are really nice, but I knew having so many people "oohing and aawing" over them would make them shy. Usually when they see D, they get a big smile on their face, but this time they were a bit overwhelmed. I picked up Aaron first, because he is a bit more social and laid back. The first thing he did when D said "Hi" to him was turn into me and bury his face into my chest. Aaaw. I felt bad, but a few minutes later the nurses and my dad left us alone and then the kids started opening up to him and getting more comfortable.

We had a nice visit and took some pictures. The time went by too quickly, though and soon the nurse came out and told us to come back in the unit. D was impressed with how much they've changed in just two weeks. I didn't want to put them down on the hospital waiting room floor, but I really wanted D to see how well they can get around now with their soldier scoot.

D's foot is to be amputated on Monday and so we had a little farewell ceremony or foot funeral, if you will. They believe they can save the other foot by skin-grafting it with some good skin taken from the amputated foot. Even though D uses a wheelchair and doesn't walk on the foot, he still uses it to bear weight when he transfers in and out of his chair. So they are going to give him a simple, mostly cosmetic prosthetic that will help with that. It is still a bit dramatic to have any part of your body lobbed off, even if you don't use it much. But D says he is a bit relieved because that foot has given him problems for thirteen years.

After Monday, it will be back to the burn unit for seven or so more days. If all goes well, he will then be moved to the rehab unit of a different hospital for a few weeks. Rehab units are pretty laid back so I'm sure the kids will be able to visit there. When my mother was in a rehab hospital during her brain cancer, they even let us bring Abbey in to see her.

I'm getting over my anger at D and trying to focus on healing and moving on. I told him that things need to change because if they have to continue cutting of parts of his body that he doesn't take care of and all that is left of him is a head, I'm not going to carry it around in my purse.

So farewell, foot. Rest in Peace. Even though D's mother says that the Pope says you have to bury any body part that comes off of you (My sensitive response to this was to laugh my ass off. Catholics? Is this true?!?), we will not be missing you too much. Good-bye and Good riddance.

Still Getting Used to the Fit

I wanted to thank Shannon over at Peter's Cross Station for her nice words and link. I've learned a lot from her and enjoy the adventures of Cute-as-a-Bug Ms. Nat. Nat is only 2 months younger than my sons but I still get all misty-eyed when Nat achieves a milestone that came an went for my boys a whole two months ago. When everyone tells you they grow up fast, well, you have no idea how fast the time goes.

I'm still trying to figure out how to do this blog. I had a blog before I became a parent that had some really good posts and some okay posts and then a lot of self-absorbed, maudlin crap. I may put those archives back on-line soon, just for kicks to see how far I've come (or not?). I want this blog to be different in a number of ways. First, I want it to be rated G, or at the very most, PG-13. Second, although I do know that I will occasionally rant, I hope very much to keep it constructive, and not direct towards anyone in particular who may be hurt by it. Third, I want it to be a gift in some way for my children. So that memories are saved, so that they always know they are loved, and so they can better understand some of my choices and struggles. I will make mistakes, but the mistakes were not made intentionally in any way. Hopefully, following those rules will not make anyone too bored to tears with my writing.

I perhaps want to practice how I will explain things to them at times. In the entry below entitled, "Update on Dad," I was thinking, how would I explain this situation to them if they were a bit older? I'll practice! I decided to make my writing public in blog form because I write better and more consistently that way, and because our family is a bit unique and I wanted to share it with others. I know how much it has helped me to learn and feel like I'm not alone when I have read about other's joys and challenges to create a "nontraditional" family.

My children are the product of much love, much dreaming, much planning, and much heartache and risk taking. They are also the product of donor insemination. This is something that we have been very open about, but I still have to practice how we will work the kids through it.  I've already started to talk to them about it a bit, although I know they don't understand. But I want them to grow up with the idea. I don't want to have to sit them down when they are 5 or 12 or 18 and say, "I've been meaning to tell you..." I'd rather present the words into their vocabulary now, and then answer their questions as they grow up.

One thing I want to do soon is to make a picture book with pictures of different kinds of families. Nat's family would be a great one, others with two moms or dads, a single mom with adopted kids, a step-family situation, biracial families, and of course, Santorum's definition of family: "One woman married to one man with children." Also, I'm sure there are family dynamics out there that work that I have not even thought of. If you would like to submit a picture of your family and a little description about your family for the book, I'd love to have it. (It would be for our private family use only.)

Anyway, I'm still trying to get a fit and feel for how I will develop this blog. Do I always want to address the posts to my children? Is my third-person Mommy business going to drive everyone, myself included, to want to drive nails through my eyeballs? Do I always talk about parenting/family issues or do I also go off on career, hobbies, and personal stuff that the kids may not necessarily ever want to know came out of their mother's mouth? I'm not sure. But that's the great thing about the freedom of blogging. You can make it be whatever you want it to be.

Your Grandmother's Legacy

Unfortunately, Kiddos, your Grandma Diane died just a bit before you were born. I will have to tell you about her as you grow up, but we are so lucky to have her most important and valuable possession willed to us:

 

She's a tiny little thing. In fact, when your dad met her, he said, "That thing is considered a dog?" Now don't let this cute, little 8-pound satanesque monstrosity fool you, Ms. Abbey has already knocked you over, taken your toys from out of your hands--er, I should say mouth--and destroyed them. She has smothered you with obsessive dog-nose smudgery whenever she is alerted that you have anything interesting in your diaper. She always wins the race with mommy to see who can be the first to wipe the snot from your nose or dab at the drool on your chin. She has the advantage there because her attachments are on board and mommy always has to run around and find that inefficient wash cloth. She has figured out how to get upstairs by squeezing through the baby gate, but has not managed to figure out how to squeeze back down the stairs. So she barks at the top step until someone comes and rescues her. And speaking of barking, that little Damian dog barks precisely when you both have finished your bottle and are just calming down to a nap. That brings me to the other thing I inherited from my mother:

Grampa Fred. Now God knows we love Grampa Fred. But Grampa Fred has no clue as to how to manage Abbey's barking. So when Abbey says "Arf!" Grampa Fred barks, "ABBEY!" and so the conversation goes, thus effectively doubling the amount of barking we endure in this house.

We love Abbey, too. And we will take good care of her. She is a perfect size for you guys. She is one of the few living things that exist that is smaller than you and you can boss around a bit; which, Naim, you are getting quite good at. She is even smaller than Daddy's kitties. Daddy calls her a "starter dog" for you. And maybe she is a good starter dog.

But someday I will tell you stories of a real dog. My guide dog, Mara who died right before you were born. Now that's what I consider a dog.

 

I Demand Gender Identity Freedom!

I was shopping in Baby's 'R' Us today for baby proofing supplies and stopped at the photography studio there to get some information about prices and pictures of the kids. Then I thought that I might buy them new outfits to get their pictures taken in so I went shopping through their clothes section.

I would say that 90% of the kids clothes so far have been second-hand or gifts. I have not done a whole lot of clothes shopping for them. I was given the hand-me-downs by the babies' nurse that comes to check on them (because they were low birth weight, preemie, twins). So I always assumed that whomever the clothes came from was just really into dressing their kids in sports, cars, and construction machinery. Most of the stuff I got as gifts was all entirely baby-blue, which is to be expected, I guess, when you announce that you are going to have two boys.

Regardless, I was anxious to dress them in something different. But I soon discovered that THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SOMETHING DIFFERENT!!! Every thing was quarterback and little slugger and vroom vroom and dump truck stuff. I'm not knocking baseball, football, every damned ball sport, highway workers, or auto mechanics.  But does every single thing a boy wears have to have this shit on it? I'm not saying I would necessarily dress them up in pink taffeta and bows, but really...the kids can do other things besides heavy mechanical work or major league sports.

Well, they don't know what they are wearing, you say. It is cute so why does it matter? Because every single person that comes up and talks to your kids for the first 5 years of their lives refers to what they are wearing. They get constantly reinforced for sports, cars, and ditch digging.

Meanwhile, on the little girl's three-fourths of the clothing department, it is a sea of pink.  Its all soft florals and butterflies, and bunnies and bows. I admit it, if I were to have a girl, I would love to dress her up in pretty clothes. (But I refuse to put one of those ridiculous garter belts on my little girls head, like that is going to distract from her unladylike baldness.) But not pink flowers and butterflies ALL THE TIME. And I would maybe like to put her in some clothes that might indicate sports or heavy machinery. Why not? And also, seriously, there was a whole rack of little outfits that consisted of various colors of what can only be described as DAISY DUKES with matching embroidered little strappy halter tops. Do they really need to put Britney's wardrobe in a size 6-9 months?

It's also how others treat your kids. I don't know what it is like to have girls, but for boys I hear these comments on a regular basis:

"These boys are going to be tough. They are going to learn how to fight and wrestle each other."

"How tall is their father? I hope Naim catches up. You don't want him to only end up being 5'8" and skinny." (This topic has come up because Naim was the smaller of the two and had a bit of trouble in the beginning putting on weight.)

"Aaron is a big guy! He's going to be a linebacker!"

"You have to get them involved in sports so they will grow up competitive."

(When Naim is banging a toy on the floor...) "See, he's a typical boy! Already ready to destroy things."

I'm not saying that my guys don't show what are supposedly "male" tendencies and perhaps that is due to the Y chromosome. But then, I have no little girl to compare right now. I certainly think that baby girls are tough enough to be swung up in the air and also do plenty of toy banging. I'm also not saying I object to them deciding to become involved in sports, cars, or other such ruff-n-tumble play.  But if they grow up liking pink and gardening and soft bunnies, then I guess we'll go look and see what the girls section has to offer. I just want them to develop into their gender identity naturally. And Grampa Fred! Mr. Homophobe! If either of them find that they are gay or otherwise transgendered--SO BE IT! (I'd have a much harder time if they turned out to be republican...Now That IS a choice but I guess I'd have to deal.)

They have a toy train, but they also have a doll. They have plenty of the above described boywear, but they also have a few things in soft neutral colors with butterflies and animals on them. They don't have pink clothes (though I'm not ruling it out) but they have pink sheets and blankets. They even have rather gender neutral names in a way. I like it this way. I want them to be who they are. And I want them to discover it themselves.