Twinkle Little Star

Aunt Lisa Gets a Clue

Sorry, kids...I know it's been a while. I had to prepare for a trip, go on a trip, and recover from a trip. Not to mention some router troubles along the way. So I'm behind on writing and reading what has been going on in everyone's lives as of late.

But despite some fevers and snotty noses, the trip to Northern California went really well and was a very good time. Aaron woke up warm last Wednesday, but he runs a bit hot and that morning his room was just scorching for some reason. By three hours into the trip, I knew he had a fever. But he was getting lots of fluid and sleeping in the car was probably a good thing for him to be doing.

I am not one of those mothers who goes crazy over fevers. (Unless they are really high and last more that a day or so.) I don't medicate unless the kid is so miserable that he can't rest well. Fever is what fights infection so lowering it with Tylenol or whatever just makes the infection last longer. By that night, his fever was 101.8 and he'd had a long day so I gave him some Tylenol so he would get a good night's sleep.

We had a nice hotel room with two rooms. A larger one with a king sized bed for me and D and then a smaller living area where the hotel put the two cribs, which were exactly like the portable crib that they alternate in at home so they seemed pretty comfortable with it and did not have too much problem sleeping. Aaron woke up a few times screaming his lungs out, but that might have been due to being sick as well. Usually a little back rub would put him back to sleep. It was nice to have the two rooms so D and I could get stuff done without waking them up.

We had a really nice time with D's sister's family. Thanksgiving was low-key and comfortable. Good food but not too fancy. Good wine but no one getting obnoxiously drunk. I worried a bit about the kids having things to do with the lack of toys, but I shouldn't have, because Aunt V. made it practically Christmas for them. She bought them a little ride-on car and a cute little tiny rocking horse and a book and two Sesame Street stuffed animals. Also, two outfits. She also had a tub of toys from when her boys were little. So the kids had MORE than enough to do. Her house was really open and bright so they could go everywhere and you could keep track of them. Uncle R. played with them a lot and I think was a little partial to Naim, but Naim was being a total show-off while Aaron stayed pretty close to me. Aaron was pretty good but was not as smiley as usual because of his cold.

I made an attempt to feed the kids their first Thanksgiving Dinner. I fed them some potatoes and some stuffing and mushed up yams. They were doing okay until...Naim choked on a mashed potato??? and threw-up big projectile vomit all over his front and into every crevasse of his car seat that he was sitting in. Of course we will remind him of this every thanksgiving for the rest of his life.

On Friday, R. and D and me and nephew R went driving while V watched the kids. We went to look at some property that R is developing. He is some sort of real estate agent, appraiser, developer type guy. They own about 50 acres in a really pretty mountain area. The fun part was that we went in his 4 wheel drive truck and went off road to see the property. We went back into thick forested areas and in hills and went along old growth forest that borders the property. The views were great and I was glad to see that they are not going to clear cut and develop, they are only taking down some of the trees and brush. I was a little worried that D would not like the off roading part because it would affect his pain levels, but he liked it. It is nice to have a couple of guys around who can throw him into a truck. He always has to be in his own van, usually.

Have you ever had to meet someone who you've heard negative stuff about for years and years? I had only met R briefly before, but I had heard years worth of negative stuff about him. I am pretty good about just making up my own mind and taking people for what they are worth, so I wasn't too concerned about it. But I conducted my own little psychology experiment while we were driving around. I was listening to R and D talk, and I tried to listen from the perspective of people who had told me the negative things. If you come at it that way, you can make everything he says sound bad. Then, I tried listening to him from the perspective of an old colleague of mine named Dean, who I know would totally love this guy, and everything he said sounded really cool. Then I just listened to him from my own perspective. And I think doing this helped me be more objective. He's not a bad guy. He's made decisions that I don't know that I would make, but that's because he is a different person than me and its not like it's his job to make decisions that I agree with. I think a lot of times what happens in in-law relations is that the biologically related family member is making decisions that the family disagrees with, but it is just easier to blame it on the in-law so they don't have to accept that their biological family member has their own mind that may differ from the family way of thinking.

In any case, I was just glad that D had someone to talk to who thinks like him. It's not just anywhere that you can find a guy who has read "The Twelfth Planet" and can converse with you about math and science in a truly deeper level. I can listen to D and talk about these things, Quantum Physics, the Elegant Universe, alternative archaeological histories, etc. but it is more him teaching me what he has read, I can't get into it to the point where I'm studying it on my own. With R, they can meet on a level where they have both read and researched these topics. R is very, extremely well read and he thinks. I was glad to see D have someone who can relate with.

On Saturday, V drove us around and showed us the town and where they used to live and where the kids went to school, etc. She reminded me of how my mother used to reminisce about the things she used to do with us when we were kids. I love small towns. D and I always talk about moving out of PDX and going smaller. Getting a ranch house where we can all live together and where there is land and space. We think about Corvallis, OR a lot, but it is always interesting to check out little towns, the schools and the libraries are just so cute. There was an open air ice skating rink in a park with mountain views. I'm a sucker for a skating rink. I used to skate a lot and hope to go back to it and even let the kids try it when they are older. This was a gorgeous place to skate in.

Then, everyone went back to our hotel and V and I took the boys swimming in the indoor, heated hotel pool. She bought some of those little swimming diapers and they work pretty well. Swimming was really fun with the kids. After a few minutes of getting used to the water, they were totally relaxed and were splashing around. D took lots of video. Not sure I want to see myself on tape in a swimsuit, so hopefully he focused on the babies. They had fun.

Inevitably, it had to happen. On Sunday on the drive back, both Naim and I got sick. He was so miserable that I broke down and Tylenol-ed him. After about 8 hours in the car, I was going to let them play for a while even though it was past their bedtime, but they both cried and cried when we got home and so I just ended up putting them to bed. Yesterday, we all three kept it low-key and just slept a lot. Today, they are doing much better and I am still a bit sick but should be okay by tomorrow, I think.

I'm really glad we went. It was a lot of work for me, but it also was not only good for the kids but for me as well. My back, which has been hurting since before I gave birth, improved dramatically on this trip. I'm not sure why, maybe because I'm so used to carrying everything and on this trip there was always someone there offering to carry a baby or a bag or whatever. My back got a well-deserved rest. Also, as I've alluded to before, there has been some tension in some relationships in the family, and although we didn't talk about it much, I gained some perspective about the whole deal. Just seeing R's attitude about it in his own case made me sort of see how to rise above it, don't let it bother me, don't let it interfere with D's relationships with the family, and just move on with our kids, which is the important thing. I've decided that although I don't want to make things difficult for anyone, it is okay to say, "I don't care." I've done what I can do, I've kept to my center, its time to go on with what is important.

Which brings me to another point that I discovered on this trip. I think I've screwed up and missed an opportunity to be an aunt to these kids of V's. Because of the way D and I have developed our relationship, there never was sort of a day (like a wedding or birth or whatever) when I officially thought of these two young men as my nephews. But they really are, and I've watched them grow up although sporadically, I've known them for ten or eleven years. But I never got to know them well, and I always considered Christmas's and birthdays and graduations something that was D's responsibility. Well, first of all, D is not good at remembering birthdays and graduations, and second of all, I should have helped him remember. I should have taken it upon myself to do something for them with D and taken the initiative. They are nice boys, I suppose its never too late, but I wish I would have realized that I could have played even a small role in their lives earlier. Let them know that D and I do think about them and we do care.

I am the one who always preaches about chosen families being more important than biological ties. I should have seen that I could have acted on this earlier than now. I have never understood why some people put such an emphasis on biological factors in family relationships. There are people who may not accept the fact that our children are not biologically related to D. Or people who think that adopted children are somehow less of a daughter or son that biological. I don't understand this. I think of my sister, for example, someone who is biologically related to me. I have a relationship with her because I choose to. If we were not related, we would probably not be friends. We are very different. But the fact that I choose to have a relationship with her is not because we share DNA, it is because we have a common history. We grew up together. I have good memories of my childhood with her. There are things that only she knows about our family life. She is the main connection I have to my late mother. All of these things are because of shared experiences, not because we are biologically related. If she or I were adopted, we would still share these things. D and my children, though not biologically related to D, will share experiences with D and other family members that tie them together. The DNA factor is a done deal that took place over a year ago. And even that was a decision that D and I made together over many long discussions and doctor visits over many years. Now, it is all about the life we make for ourselves. The life he chose, the life I chose, the life the kids will choose.

It warms my heart when I hear his sister refer to herself as "Aunt V." Now I will start thinking of myself as Aunt Lisa.

Couple-a Good Things

Today we spent a LONG and excruciating afternoon in the ophthalmologist's office getting the kids' eyes checked. The kids actually were pretty good in the WAIT to get in to the doctor and the WAIT to see the doctor after we were already in the exam room, but the WAIT for their eyes to dilate after the drops was where they started loosing it. They actually didn't get too upset over the eye drops themselves, but I had to keep them from crying too much because then the drops might've washed out and their eyes would not dilute and we would have to start all over. By this time, they had missed their nap, their snack, and were in general sick of the whole deal. I was getting cranky, too, because it was hot in the room and I kept having to change from holding one kid on my lap in the exam chair to the other about 100 times. Aaron did pretty good when they were poking around his eyes and shining lights in them, but when Naim had his retinal exam at the end, he started totally losing it and the doctor made me restrain him by holding his arms with one hand and his head with my other. I did not like doing that. But I figured it was better to get this thing done then to have to come back and do it all again.

The good news is that they both don't seem to have any of my problems so far. No sign of myopia or cataracts, no sign of retinal disease. Naim's strabismus turned out to be "pseudostrabismus" which I guess is sort of an optical illusion. It just looks like his eyes are turned in because the whites are not visible on the inner corner of his eyes. But his eyes themselves are actually straight, it is that some babies have a wide  but shallow nose bridge that has an extra fold of skin that covers up the inner portion of their eye. When they grow up, their nose becomes more prominent and this will go away. Interesting. The way they tell is by shining a light into their eyes and seeing if the reflection of the light is symmetrical or not, not by looking at the whites of their eyes. So, no patch, no surgery. Yeah! He should just grow into his nose bridge in a couple of years!

The doctor wants to see them again at three years of age and at six years of age. But after that, if there are no problems, they are probably fine and have escaped my wrath of bad genes.

I would like to mention here that it is weird to be glad that they aren't disabled. I am. Because I've had to go through a lot of crap. But still, this doesn't mean I think there is anything wrong with me. People ask me all the time if I want to be 'cured', and it is weird, because I don't. I mean, I think about it in a curious sort of way, like, what must that be like. It would be interesting to experience it for a day or a week or whatever. But this is who I am, and I like who I've become which, in part, is due directly to being disabled. And where else will that lead me? Don't know, but it seems like it will lead to more interesting places than being nondisabled would.

When I was sitting in the doctors office waiting for the diagnosis, it wasn't like I was all stressed out about it. If they would have been found to have eye problems, it would have been like, Okay, I've got some additional work on my plate, but that's it. I'm glad they are fine, I'm a bit relieved, but I'm not dancing in the isles about it. Its more like they already are who they are, and now I know a bit more information about who they are.

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In other good news, D's sister has invited us down to her place in Northern California for Thanksgiving. It is about six hours away by car, so the first long distance car trip with kids will be an adventure. Since we can't stay at her house because of accessibility issues, she is putting us up in a hotel nearby, which is Oh, So NICE of her. We would not have been able to afford the trip otherwise.

Traveling with D and the kids will be constant work for me, but I want the kids to get to know their aunt and uncle and cousins. The cousins are two really nice boys, but they are both teenagers, so not so interested in babies. I'm sad my kid's don't have any cousins their age to grow up with, because I had all kinds of fun with my cousins growing up, but, hey, I'll take a cool aunt and uncle any day. It will be nice to get away for a while, it is really pretty down there. It is also nice just to be invited, because no one invites us to anything that doesn't consist of more than a nearby movie or dinner. Some actually thinks we can do a little vacation by ourselves (with a little help!). And we can.

So, any advice on traveling with two eleven month olds?

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A couple of you have asked me to write about how I do things as a blind person. I know that I don't always realize that I'm doing things differently because I do them so often. Once, a friend was at my house and we were going to paint our nails (back when I had time to do that sort of thing) and I said, "Well, lets have some hot chocolate while the nail polish is in the refrigerator." She was like, "huh?" I forgot that no one else puts their nail polish in the refrigerator! I do it so it will get cold and I will feel it when it hits my skin on the edge of my nails easier, then I can quickly wipe away any mistakes. So I will think on this and write something soon. If you want to know how I do any specific thing, feel free to ask. That will actually make it easier. I have heard it all so don't worry about offending me. (Here is a good one: Once on a DATE, a guy asked me how I knew when I had my period!! Okay, I don't know how to explain this to a guy, so I just said, "When blood comes out of my vagina. (Pause...) Yes, I can actually find my vagina. What? Do you have trouble finding a woman's vagina in the dark?") I'm so bad.

Disability Civil Rights 101

The thing about disability that people don't get is that, in this country and everywhere in the world, it is a civil rights issue more than a personal, medical issue. Sure, many people with disabilities have logistical and practical and many times medical things to deal with, but the largest quality of life issue is one of the lack of social justice that disabled people face.

And the worse thing about that is that, for the most part, it is not even recognized that disability is a civil rights issue. Everybody has at least some level of understanding of the fact that people of different races, genders, and sexual orientation are treated in a variety of discriminating ways in society, but disability is never thought of. I've heard people say that GLBT issues are the last form of discrimination faced by society. I heard Tyra Banks say that obesity is the last form of discrimination in society. These statements make me mad, because, although I recognized the struggles of the gay community and people who are obese, disability isn't even thought of as an issue. Or if you mention disability discrimination or "ableism," people's eyes roll and accuse you of taking Political Correctness off the deep end.

Well, the fact is, people are being killed for being disabled, they are being falsely imprisoned both in the prison system and in nursing homes, they are denied health care, they are denied access to public services, they are denied jobs. When you are disabled, you go through every day of your life facing multiple incidences of discrimination a day. If someone sued for each violation of their rights, they would have to make a career out of being in court.

So my miff of today, and actually the last several weeks, is this article from the New York Times. (I'm linking to it from the Braille Monitor so you don't have to register with the NYT. You need to scroll down to "Eat, Memory: Line of Sight" a few paragraphs in). It is about a visually impaired person that applies for a job in a posh New York restaurant called Prunes. The article is written by the owner of the restaurant who did the interview. At first, I wasn't going to write about it, because, according to her, the guy was not qualified for the position. As a blind person, I hate to read about other blind people that screw up, as it appears this guy did. But there are people out there who screw up, and it is not due to blindness or being black or being gay. And their screw-ups should not represent the whole community. If I had my guesses, I would imagine that this guy recently lost his sight and has yet to figure out alternative ways of doing the chef job without sight. This is too common for blind people. If you get a spinal cord injury, you are in the hospital for a long time and you are taught how to get around in the world before you are released. Then you may continue outpatient therapy for a period of time until you are ready to go back to work. For people who lose their sight, there is no instant rehabilitation. You have to seek it out for yourself and sometimes you are put on a long waiting list. Ideally, a person who loses their sight would be referred to a rehabilitation center for the blind by their ophthalmologist and would take a good year off to learn how to live without sight. Seldom does this happen. Some people never get referred to rehab, or not a good rehab, or cannot afford to take a year off. I would imagine that is what happened to this guy. He did not know how to advocate for himself to get accommodations set up beforehand for his 'trial.' In any case, one search on Google of "blind chef" will give you three or four examples of working blind chefs just on the first page. I, myself, had a not-short-enough but distinguished high school career at Taco Bell. I know this is not in the same league as a real chef, but it still involved deep frying shells, chopping lettuce, tomatoes and cheese, cooking hamburger and beans, grilling fahita meat and prepping food. I couldn't see the tempurature gauge, the order screens, where the meat was on the grill, etc. I worked out alternatives. So the issue here is not the guy's blindness. The issue is that he was unprepared for the interview and trial.

But you wouldn't know that by reading the article. The author obviously starts off with complete disbelief in the guy's abilities and a disdain for his disability. There is mocking and there is hatred here:

"The first thing I noticed when he arrived was that he was blind. His eyes wandered around in their sockets like tropical fish in the aquarium of a cheap hotel lobby."

Imagine if this had been written about a black person.  Say something like, "The first thing I noticed was that the guy was black. His skin was as dark as muddy sewer water in a trailer park." Even if the black person was unprepared and unqualified for the job, imagine if from the start, such disdain and mockery took place because the guy was black. When you go for a job interview, you always wonder what the interviewer is really thinking about your disability. This article allows me to get inside the head of an interviewer while she is interviewing and it is extremely discouraging.

The thing that bothers me worse than the fact that this woman wrote this article is the fact that the New York Times published it. That means, that she is not just one bad seed, but that the editors of the New York Times thought this type of thinking was perfectly acceptable and common sense that its millions of readers would identify with. I mean, even if the guy did screw up at the trial, what was the point of this article except to embarrass one guy and put down the entire population of blind and otherwise disabled people?

My sister took about a year off from working to help my mother when she was sick. (She was sort of between jobs anyway, and didn't start looking for a new job until after my mother died.) When she started interviewing again, she was worried about explaining her gap in employment. I was like, "You just say, 'My mother had a terminal illness and I took care of her until she died. But I'm really looking forward to going back to work now.'" It amused me because I hear people obsessing over such things in job interviews all the time and I just think to myself, try explaining a guide dog, hearing aids, and the computer software they are going to have to buy for you when faced with attitudes like this.

There is a 70% unemployment rate among people with disabilities and most of those people can and want to work. Issues like health insurance, discrimination, and accommodations get in the way. What about the ADA, the Americans with Disabilities Act, you say? Wasn't that supposed to end discrimination for the disabled? Well, that is a whole 'nother post in itself. But so far the Supremes have been too busy watering it down and arguing over who it covers while employers have found unique ways to get around it by deriving "essential functions" of the job that include things like "seeing" and "hearing" which are not really functions of the job. Now with Bush in charge of these next SCOTUS nominees, I don't hold out much hope that it will get any better.

Didja Know That Waylon Covered Rhiannon and Gold Dust Woman? Weird.

The kids are going to know the words to every Stevie Nicks/Fleetwood Mac song just as I know the words to every Waylon Jennings song. It's a curse that comes with having to listen to your parents music. I go on a Stevie rampage about every six months to a year and don't stop listening to her for a month, then I don't listen to her for another year. The funny thing about Waylon is, though I don't go out and buy his albums or anything, but when I hear his songs, it is comforting in a nostalgic way, it is childhood, and it is my dad.

Stevie is the same way. I don't think she is the greatest singer or musician in the world, she is just the comfort of childhood that I've carried into adulthood. I listen to her when I'm a a certain mood. And I guess I'm in that mood.

Anyway, here are a few rarities for you:

1. Races are Run off of the 1974 Buckingham/Nicks album.
2. Twisted (with Buckingham) off of the Twister Soundtrack.
3. Fireflies (with Fleetwood Mac) off of a 1980 Live album.

Maybe I'm prejudice, but I don't think putting my kids through Stevie is nearly as bad as Waylon Jennings. I know they'll roll their eyes latter when they are listening to the 2015 version of 50 Cent or whoever. If I've done my job in making childhood a pleasant time for them, then Stevie will be comforting for them, too. (Probably only after I'm dead, though, will they admit it.)

Contemplating a Donor Issue--Whatdya'll Think?

Supposedly there are around 50,000 children born each year through donor insemination. Most of these children are born to married couples with male factor infertility. The minority of these children are born to same-sex couples or single women. The majority of married couples with male factor do not tell their children, or anyone else for that matter, that they were the product of donor insemination. (Although this is changing somewhat in the last several years.)

We have always been open about our use of a donor. And we have even told the kids the story of their conception. Even though they don't understand it now, we want them to grow up knowing naturally how they were conceived. At the same time, we don't want to make a big deal about it. We don't want it to define them. But ultimately they will have to tell us how it impacts their lives.

Which brings me to something I've been contemplating. The Cryolab that provided us the donor sperm has what is called a sibling registry. This is a voluntary registry where you can list your children and see other children who have been born from the same donor. Genetically speaking, you get to see your children's half siblings. They limit the number of children that can be conceived through a given donor, so its not like there are hundreds of half siblings out there. In my children's case, there are two on the registered list. There may be a few more out there who are not registered. One person registered his/her son and gave no further information. Another person registered her son and wrote this:

Message

VERY MUCH open to establishing some kind of way to remain 'reachable' in the event children desire or need to make contact. VERY open to also doing this for purposes relating to crisis medical intervention, testing etc. Under 'right' conditions might be open to more, always open to discussion and invite contact via email at ************. This is all new stuff and we are open to finding a path through it together so everyone is comfortable.

Both of these children were born about a year before mine. One lives on the other side of the country and this one above lives in an adjoining state. So, I keep thinking, should I contact her? I have listed my boys and have put up a similar message to hers. No one has contacted me.

I have to ask myself, why do I want to do this? As she said, we could contact to remain reachable for medical emergencies, should one of our kids need a bone marrow transplant or such. But the Cryolab will help with that, so I really don't NEED to contact her for that. The kids are too young to know or care about this now, so maybe I should wait and see if they are ever interested. But I'd hate to wait until they are interested and then find out that she doesn't want anything to do with us. I'd also hate to waste a possibly good relationship they might have with kids with a biological link. But since my kids are twins, they have a biological link with each other, so its not as if I just had one who had no link to his "father." And how important is it anyway that they know people out there who share some DNA? I can't answer that for them. But, I know, kids are drawn to their biological parents, however nonexistent they are, and perhaps knowing another brother will fill the gap?

I guess I'm mostly just curious. I'd like to see what these other boys have in common with my guys, if anything. I have a picture of the donor when he was about two or three years old. It is this picture that helped me make my final decision about the donor. It wasn't so much his physical appearance, it was just a connection I made to that boy in the picture. I want one of those, I thought. I wish I could show you it and you could see how MUCH Aaron looks like him. I wonder if the other boys look like Aaron. Would it help him to see others who share his features? Naim looks so much like my side of the family. Aaron looks like the donor. Again, does it matter? Will he care? I don't care that he doesn't look like me. It is kind of fun in a way. When I was pregnant with them, I couldn't wait to see the mystery unfold. What combination of people would me and mystery donor make? I'm sure when women are pregnant with their husband's offspring they share some of the same mystery. But with a donor, it's just so curious. I can look at Naim's blonde hair and blue eyes and say, "That's not me." I can look at his face, nose and jawline and say, "yup, that's me." Naim's skin matches mine exactly. Aaron's is an olive eastern European color. His dark hair and dark eyes are mine, but the rest of him is Russian. He even has open hips. (Good for ballet and figure skating...open hips are entirely genetic, and no one in my family has them). It is all so interesting and fun to see what happens.

I have a friend who was adopted and found her birth mother when she was an adult. She said it was interesting just to see the similar facial expressions and the way they both tilted their head and used their hands. These are things that I will never be able to place for my kids. Maybe it won't matter to them, maybe knowing a half sibling would help in these respects.

I'm also afraid that I/we won't be accepted by another family. I bought a book called, "Helping the Stork" about donor insemination a few years ago. I remember reading the reviews on amazon. A bunch of people who wrote reviews were just horrified that single women would consider donor insemination and didn't like that the book mentioned this population. What if these parents are the married/male factor variety and they won't accept my lifestyle?

What if, what if, what if...

What would I say anyway? There is no hurry to do this of course. It is just something in the back of my mind that I don't know what to do about. Best case scenario, we could become friendly with this family and the kids and I would have added relatives that love them and to love. I guess worst case scenario is they tell me to go away and never contact them again. Or maybe worst case scenario is that they bug us so much that we need a restraining order. I don't know.

What do you all think? Typepad has been acting up lately and sometimes comments haven't been working, so don't be afraid to just shoot me an email if you have any ideas.

Eleven Months and Already Being Demanding

Scene: Breakfast. Feeding the kids alternative spoonfuls of mushed up apples and bananas.

Me: (singing) I like to eat, I like to eat, I like to eat, eat, apples and bananas...

Aaron: Mmmm Yummm Mmmm More yum-yum noises.

Me: A lake to ate, A lake to ate, a lake to ate, ate ayples and banaynays.

Naim: Pounds fists on table because I'm taking to long with Aaron

Aaron: Yummmm Mmmmm Yummm

Me: E Leek to Eet ....

Niam: Na nananananana POUND POUND POUND

Me: I like to ite, I like to ite...

Aaron: Hmmm Yummmm Mmmmm

Niam: BAH!!!! NAH!!!!! NAH!!!!

Me: (astonished) What? Did you say banana?

Niam: (Pounds on table) BA NA NA!!!! BA NA NA!!!! BANANA!!!!

Me: Do you want some more Bananas?

Niam: (gives his "you eeeediot" look of exasperation) BAH!!!! NAH!!!! NAH!!!!

Me: Well, here you go then.

Niam: Big Laugh. (She finally gets it.)

Aaron: Mmmmm Yummmm Hmmmm Yummmm

Certain People in My Family Will Read This Post and Become Panic-Stricken

The kids are eleven months old today. I can't believe it. Last week Ms. Wendy the Wonder Nanny went crazy baby-proofing on my ass and dumped a bunch of clothes together in one drawer so she could hide the baby Tylenol, and Desinex and other poisonous things my kids try to consume in another. This forced me to have to go through all their clothes and sort out the things that are too little from the things that they can actually wear. It is sad to have to admit that they can't fit in SO MANY clothes anymore. My God. What happened? My kids are going to be a YEAR OLD next month!

There will have to be a major overhaul of their room in the next six months to a year or so, which means I am going to be forced to make some decisions. The baby swings, the cribs, the baby clothes will have to go. And in their place will be a room that is not so much set up for me to take care of babies but for them to start being more independent. I will probably start them off with twin mattresses on the floor. I also want to get one of those closet organizer things where they can have lowered clothes rod and drawers for their stuff so they can start getting dressed. They need to be able to reach their own toys and be able to put them away. And maybe a small table and chairs for them to start to draw on, etc. All this means that I have to think about what to do with the current furniture that is in there and all the baby stuff.

Am I going to have another child?

Should I keep it all, or am I done? If I have another child, it will most likely be through adoption. And most likely it will be domestic or foster adoption so would I even have a baby again anyway, considering I might get an older child? I don't have much storage space in this house. There is no basement and the garage is filled with my dad's car and D's ramp to get in the house.

The furniture in their room (the yellow stuff) has some sentimental value. It was my furniture when I was a kid and finally got my own room. It is more sentimental to me because it was special to my mother. She picked it out, I think it was the first furniture they bought new. Its good Ethan Allen stuff. Still in good shape. But it isn't right for twins in that room. My dad (and many others) think it is too girly for the boys, I'm not too worried about that. But since they will have to share their own room for the rest of their lives, I would like to get them something more practical, more space saving, more so they could each have their own space and have someplace to study. I'm thinking when they get older I might get them loft beds with desks/storage underneath or something. My mom always wanted that furniture to be at her house when the grand-kids came to visit. She didn't live long enough to see the grand kids, and now her house is my house. But I can't just sell it. I'd love for my daughter to use it, should I have one. Anyway. Back to making that decision.

I've learned so much from Shannon, Cubbiegirl, Cluttergirl and others about adoption. It has made me examine my motivations for wanting to adopt. I think, like others have said, I've just always been drawn to it. I imagined adopting when I was a little kid just as much as I imagined becoming pregnant. Shannon talked about chosen families. And I've always been a person who has felt sometimes more comfortable in a chosen family than in my own family. I've always had a bit of 'red-headed stepchild' syndrome. I think it is a bit to do with being disabled when no one else in your family is. I always felt like the little girl in the movie "Welcome to the Dollhouse" who was an outcast both at school and at home. Its not that my parents didn't love me or didn't do their best, it is just that when I finally moved out and went to blind rehab, it was like, "oh, this is what acceptance is. I never knew." I was like the bee girl in the Blind Melon (Heh. Pun.) video who finally found her bee people.

So I've been lucky enough to have been adopted and have adopted many unofficial family members. Adoption to me seems like an extension of that. So there are space issues and money issues and all the rest. The uncertainty and the dealing with the system that cluttergirl talks about. The energy it will take to parent a child with a "past" as cubbiegirl talks about. But I think I've learned that you can adopt and share. There is no reason to limit a child to just one mother. Athena shares her oldest daughter, Mia with her birth mother. And Shannon and Cole have an open adoption with Nat's birth mother. This is one thing I never thought I'd want to deal with, but now I think I could. So we'll see. It won't be for another year or two that I get serious. It's just that now I have to think about what to do with the baby stuff.

I always thought I would have two children, but I never imagined twins. I always thought I would have a daughter, I never imagined two sons. I always thought I would adopt, but I never imagined I'd already have two children. But it seems like it wouldn't be right for me to go through this life and not adopt. It's what I always thought I was supposed to do. I've always wanted to and still want to. I look at the adoption listings all the time. I hear about Angelina Jolie adopting and I get a longing. Can I be a good mother to three?

Cubbiegirl's official adoption of her Bugaboo takes place tomorrow. She says:

In the end, Bug has been my daughter before I was even selected as her mom. And she's been my daughter all along.

This is sort of how I feel sometimes. Like there is a child out there waiting for me and our lives just have to intersect at the right moment and I need to be ready when they do. I can't miss her, I have to plan for her.

Congratulations, Cubbiegirl and Bugaboo!

Peoples Exhibit #46 in My Bad Mother Trial

My father has been here for a couple of weeks. He is leaving on Saturday. He is a mixed blessing when he is here. He cleans the kitchen obsessively. This is a good thing. I hate housework. I get a break from lifting even a single dirty dish when he is here. He takes care of things around the house that are broken. He obviously loves the kids and plays with them a lot. But he cannot be trusted with them. He plays with them when they are fun and when he is in the mood, but doesn't take care of any of their needs when he is busy. And by busy I mean sitting on the couch and watching TV while simultaneously surfing the net with his laptop computer.

They are my kids and I don't expect him to take responsibility...but sometimes it pisses me off that when I'm busy, he can't at least make sure they don't kill themselves. But he is oblivious.

So here is my awful story: My dad was playing with the kids in the living room. It was almost bedtime so I picked up Naim to take him upstairs to get into his jammies, etc. As soon as I walked away with Naim, Aaron (a.k.a. my barnacle) started crying because I went somewhere -gasp- without him. When I was upstairs with Naim on the changing table, I could still hear Aaron whimpering downstairs. I was hoping my dad was at least trying to console him. So then Naim starts playing around with his little toothbrush. He throws everything now. He started throwing the toothbrush down on the changing table while I was trying to get him dressed. Then, while I was standing RIGHT THERE, he threw it off the table and just sort of followed after it. It happened really fast. He flipped and did a somersault right off the table and landed-splat- on the floor before I could catch him. I could tell that he wasn't likely hurt badly but that it had scared him. He started WAILING and I immediately dropped down to the floor and scooped him up. While I was holding him and as he continued to cry, I started hearing Aaron's crying escalate. This seems to be a twin thing. They have sympathy cries for each other when the other one is upset. So that is what I thought it was. But I thought my father is down there, he will surely take care of it. As I continued to comfort Naim and he is quieting, Aaron is getting louder. So I got up with Naim in my arms and went out in the hallway. There, at the top of the steps, was Aaron, hanging on to the baby gate for dear life. He had climbed the steps all by himself to try to get to me. Where was my father, you ask? Sitting on the couch, watching TV with the computer on his lap. He had no idea that this screaming baby had just climbed up 16 steps without supervision. Ugh.

When I told him what happened, he beamed with pride at Aaron's accomplishment and seemed clueless to the danger. There is a famous story in our family legendry. When my sister was 2 and I was about the boys' age, my mother worked days and my father worked nights. He was supposed to watch us during the day but he also had to get some sleep. One day, while he was sleeping, my sister and I left the house, separately. My sister went down to a nearby park and I crawled down a flight of cement apartment stairs and was crawling in the street when we were found by a neighbor. The thing about that story is, my father acts like it is a developmental milestone. "Oh, well you could climb down steps at this age, so they should be able to."

AAAAHHH! The point is, dad, just because a baby CAN get down cement apartment stairs without killing themselves DOESN'T MAKE IT A GOOD IDEA!!!

So this is why when I say that my dad doesn't babysit, I mean HE DOESN'T BABYSIT. Period.

On another note in line with my bad mothering...the kids are in separate cribs now because Aaron keeps trying to kill Naim. Aaron tends to lay across Naim's head and Naim can't get out or breathe for that matter. His poor little cries for help are so muffled that I'm afraid I won't hear them. So Ms. Wendy the Wonder Nanny and I moved the portable crib from downstairs up into their room and we separated them. They don't seem too phased by it. They can still see each other and talk to each other so that helps. I slept with Aaron in the twin bed in there for a few hours the first night because he was upset, but then I got tired of him trying to lay over my face so at about 4 in the morning, I put him back in his crib alone and he seemed to do well until morning.

Did I also mention, while we are discussing my bad mothering that Aaron (a.k.a. my barnacle) is driving me NUTS?? That kid is stuck to me like a leach 16 hours of the day. I know he's at that object permanence/separation anxiety stage where he actually remembers me when I'm gone and wonders where the hell I am. I think he is teething again, also. He is whiny and crabby lately. Meanwhile, Naim is being a dream child. Thank God. He is smile-y and happy-go-lucky and pleasantly goes about his daily projects with little complaint. I wish I could enjoy him more. It is hard to get much time with him when the barnacle is attached to me all the time.

The only time Naim gets upset is usually because Aaron is being a bully and taking his toys away or knocking him out of the way when he wants my attention. Even in ultrasounds in the womb, Aaron was always beating up on Naim. I wouldn't worry about it so much if it was more equal. But I worry that Aaron is so dominant over Naim. Twin/multiple moms out there---got any advice? For now, when Aaron takes something away, I'll have him give it back and try to get him interested in something else. I've asked my Healthy Start teacher about it and she doesn't seem to know much about twin issues.

Okay, now I have to do this:

Ten Wonderful Things About Aaron

1. He is snugly, snugly, cuddly, snugly.
2. He gets so excited that he can't hardly contain himself and he laughs with his whole body.
3. His Cheerio dropping to Cheerio eating ratio has improved dramatically this week.
4. He has a beautiful smile.
5. He is curious about everything and can teach himself things. He taught himself how to get in and out of the wagon and also how to push it with one foot like a scooter.
6. He has no fear.
7. He climbs mountains (or flights of stairs) to get to his mother and brother.
8. He finally ate his chicken and stars tonight (that's a lumpy!!! food) without throwing a fit.
9. He just learned how to clap, and can sometimes clap to the beat of music.
10. When he's laying in my arms, holding his bottle, the way he takes his little hands and reaches up to touch my face can make me melt.

Okay. That's better. I love 'em.

This post is about going to the dentist. (It's not as bad you think.)

As I mentioned earlier, I cracked a tooth for no apparent reason. A hunk of tooth just came out of my mouth. Now since I've been through at least ten years of involuntary childhood torture at the hands of the orthodontist, (Braces...twice...AND a headgear. Accentuated well with the coke bottle glasses--believe you me.) I am very protective of my teeth. Since I hadn't gone to the dentist in over 3 years, I'm sure I am being punished by the forces of Dental Evil. Did I mention, just as an aside, that my childhood dentist's name was Doctor Huerter? No joke.

Anyway, when hunks of tooth start falling out of my mouth, it's time to head to the dentist. My last dentist was all the way downtown, so I wanted to pick a new one close by. Now, here is the point of this post: This is the criteria I used to choose the person with which to care for my oral health:

1. Walking Distance. That is logical given my lack of a driver's license. That narrowed it down to three places.

2. Office A was knocked out early because it's website was just so obnoxious. It talked all about pampering the employees from big, large hi-tech employer nearby. "This is one office that really goes out of its way to meet their eclectic clientele’s Special Requests. Most Special Requests come in the form of beverages, blankets or music." Hey, I just want my teeth fixed, I don't want to be tucked in with a glass of champagne. How much does that cost me? Some of us don't work at big, large hi-tech employer nearby and make six figures. And some of us don't have dental insurance. Want to grab me that blanket now?

3. This was the most important criteria of all: Whichever practice does not employ Hummer Doc. Let me tell you about small penis Hummer Doc. He drives around town in a bright red massive -ly small penis customized Hummer with his name on the door and a vanity license plate that says "Hummer Doc." He also goes to my gym. (Background Note: My gym is a swanky, expensive place. The only reason I get to go there is because I do a small amount of writing and editing for them.) Anyway, Hummer Doc parks his lousy lover Hummer clear the hell out in the sexual insecurities hinterlands across two spaces, and waltzes in as if everyone should stop what they are doing and cry out, dickwad "NORM!" Hummer Doc (I am told, I don't know because he's never once acknowledged my existence) spends a lot of his time keeping his eyes on the aerobics class participants' never gets any chests as he lifts and grunts in the adjoining weight room. Friends have told me what the name is on his small penis Hummer, but no one could remember.  Okay, maybe I'm being unfair and stereotypical. Or maybe it's a political decision. Yes, that's it. I don't want my money being used to pay for gas for that massive piece of ego crap. If my cracked tooth buys Hummer Doc's gas, I'd be supporting the terrorists.

So those were my criteria. Now that one of the three was knocked out, I had to figure out if the two that were left were safe from Hummer Doc. How to do that? Could I just call and say, "Do any of your partners happen to drive a hummer? Yes. Oh, um, well, I --my baby is crying, I'll have to do this some other time." Click.

I ended up taking a chance based on the fact that my father thought he saw the Hummer parked in Dental Office B, so I called Dental office C and made an appointment.

So, got my tooth fixed by a nice enough and competent enough young guy. Cracked silver filling was replaced by a nice, shiny white one. If I had the money, I'd crack the other two teeth with silver fillings. Anyway, then, he asked, "So who referred you to us?"

"Um, No one. I looked you up on the Internet."

"Oh, Do you mind my asking why you chose us?"

"Well, I don't drive and I was looking at offices close by and.....I, I,
I just didn't want Hummer Doc!" I blurted, "Uh, Sorry, I hope he's not a friend of yours."

"Nah, you're actually, like, the fourth or fifth person whose said that too me. I don't think that Hummer was a good use of advertising dollars. You can just call me 'Honda Doc.'"

Heh. Heh. Laughs all around. So if you need a dentist, I can refer a friendly and reasonably priced dentist who drives a car that does not directly support terrorism. Now FLOSS!

Happy Easter, er, Halloween!!

Since my kids were born in December, two weeks before Christmas, I got a ton of baby clothes as gifts all at once. And since the entire time from Thanksgiving of 'O4 to MLK Day of 'O5 is a complete blur for me, I completely lost track of who sent what. I tried to thank everyone, but sometimes I had to be a little bit vague on the thank you note. Thanks, Aunt Sylvia for sending, uh, your gift. It's really, uh...cute. The boys wore it last Thursday? Yes. Sounds good. Thank you.

All this is to excuse myself and apologize for what I'm about to tell you about a gift--if said gift was from you. I do appreciate the gift and the thought. Which is what counts. Yes. Thank you for the thought that was attached to this gift.

Okay, there. Now, the story.

For Halloween we decided to just be low-key and just stay home and answer the door. But I thought I should get a little into the mood since it is the kid's first Halloween, but I hadn't done much in the way of thinking of or purchasing or sewing costumes. Then I remembered the bunny suits.

Yes, the bunny suits that were given to me by some well meaning person who wanted me to have a warm, coverall type bodysuit to keep the kids warm on our adventures out in in the world in Oregon's semi-cold and rainy winters. The problem with the gift was a couple of things.

First these very warm, hooded, long sleeved heavy (but very soft and cuddly) fleece suits were sized 6-9 months. My kids were sized 6-9 months in approximately June, July, and August. I supposed I could have used them last Winter when the kids were little and it wouldn't have mattered too much to put them in something huge. But at the time, they were so little and not so mobile and it was just tons easier to throw a baby quilt over them in their infant carriers when going out rather than going through the whole ordeal of shoving them into a body suit. We didn't go out that much last Winter anyway. So now that the weather is becoming cold again, they are a bit too small.

The second problem with them is purely personal. They had bunny ears. Not just any bunny ears. But big, floppy, bunny ears. Now there are Pro-Bunny-Ear Parents and there are Anti-Bunny-Ear Parents. I'm not saying either is right or wrong. I'm just saying that's the world we live in. I am an Anti-Bunny-Ear Parent. I don't voluntarily dress my kids up in things with ears, tails, paws, or other redundant nonhuman anatomy if I can help it. The only exception would be on special occasions like Halloween.

So I decided to dress the kids up in the bunny ear coverall just right over their diapers so they wouldn't get too hot and then it would be a good conversation starter with the neighbor parents or whatever. Hey, I can be festive. Heh. They were too small in the legs and I had to do some tugging to get them zipped, but worked for one night.

Now, Aaron was not too concerned with his bunny costume. But Naim was not happy. He had been happy-go-lucky all day and the second I put the bunny-ear thing on, he got stony faced. He looked humiliated. It was quite funny. I even took the hood off to see if that was bothering him, but he still was unhappy. Then, though Aaron wasn't to concerned about his own bunnyness, he got all up into Naim's bunny business. He started pulling Naim's ears and he would drag Naim around by the head. It was so hysterical that I let it go on just a few seconds longer than a mother should. But after rescuing Naim from Aaron, he still wasn't happy. So after only about 20 minutes of bunnyness, Naim got changed into regular pajamas and was happy as a clam for the rest of the night.

So, whoever you are out there, I hate to say it but I'm going to re-gift. We did try the bunny outfits and got a combined 2 hours and 20 minutes of purely entertaining use out of them. We will find them a more suitable home with a happy Pro-Bunny-Ear Parent-To-Be. Hopefully one whose baby will be born about March or April.

My camera's batteries crapped out but I managed to get a few pics that will haunt Naim for the rest of his life and be used at his highschool graduation party, of course, so you all HAVE to go look at the photo album now.