Hillary Clinton Was Right

Did you know that it takes a village to raise more than one baby? Holy moly it takes three or four villages. Really big ones.

Before you dive into twins, you can somewhat imagine what it is going to be like. Take what you know about caring for one baby and double it. Right? Oh, so very wrong. It's like taking caring of a small army that poops and eats a lot. You look at them and realize that their combined weight is only 17 pounds. How could something that weighs less than a big wheel require so much work? We are working ourselves silly over here, but look at what we get to see every day:


We have created quite the baby sweatshop. My girls now know how to feed, change, and jiggle just the right way to make a baby fall asleep. I'm thinking about hiring them out to build up their college funds.


Here is what I have realized over the last several weeks--I need to smell them. It's like crack. Babies just smell divine. Someone should figure out how to bottle and sell it. Babies also force you to slow your life down. They make you take time to sit and feed and just stare. And then you snuggle them while they sleep. Simple joy. Babies are magical. Especially those that require a village.

Like Mother Like Daughter

Ties That Bind

A wonderful friend of mine had an anniversary today. One year ago her mother left this life to continue her living on the other side of the veil. A marked day full of weight and memories. I have thought about her today and I understand where her thoughts are. I have also thought about the person I know who is drowning in her life from the inside out. She can't seem to find her footing. I love and understand her and where her thoughts are.

What are the ties that bind us together? It may not always be a common bond of love or friendship. Maybe there is a stronger bond formed when we deeply understand another person's trial. Maybe we understand another's experience so well because we have been there ourselves. Traveling the same road, just at different times. This binds us together. We are united because we understand one another and uniquely resonate with each other's pain.

What about the person who feels inadequate or the mom who feels she is screwing it all up? We are tied. What about the mom who fights for the triumphs of a learning disabled child? I am bound to her. Or, what of all the women who struggle to find balance in all that they do? We are each connected.

Aren't we somehow all tethered together? Each fighting our own personal battles. Each trying in our own way to carry the weight of our struggles. But maybe the ties that bind us are also the ones that will carry us, and lift us....together. Never alone--always together.

Bean N' Bacon

A special someone (whose name rhymes with Fancy) loves this chatterbox 6 yr. old enough to send her this:




Holy Canolly! This stuff really smells like bacon. Immediately after opening the package she slathered it on her lips. I thought she might actually eat them. I couldn't even sit by her on the couch because all I could smell was bacon. Addie just sat in the chair by herself and licked her lips. The slogan for this company is printed on the label--"Everything should taste like bacon." From now on, Addie's lips fit that criteria perfectly.

Is It Me?

Todd ran the show around the house yesterday. All day. It was a holiday, ya know. Kids home from school. Hence, I skeedaddled outta there and Todd managed the circus. I took babies to doctor visits. I held the twins, fed the twins, burped the twins and then started all over again. I just traded one show for another. This one is just sweeter and smells like baby lotion.

Throughout the day I would call to check on Todd and the status of the homefront. I got the same answer every time, "it's all good." Hmm. Not what I hoped for. At lunch time Todd told me that he had just made lemon chicken and noodles for everyone. What!? A couple of hours later he told me that five additional friends were over playing with my girls. Still the same answer, "it's all good."

What the crap! I wanted to call and hear Todd crying boo hoo tears of sadness that he couldn't take it anymore. I just knew that by the end of the day he would be in a fetal position clawing at his skin. He would then shower me with praises for doing this every day. Nope. "It's all good." How can that be? For reals, you made lemon chicken for lunch!? I thought that the popcorn combo at Target was pretty glamorous.

Maybe it's me. Do you think that's possible? Naw, it can't be that. Maybe it's Todd. He can be so....nice. It's grating. I mean, it's not normal to be patient and speak at a normal volume. He actually lets the kids have some freedom, like taking all the blankets outside to build a fort in the dirt. That's way weird. Who lets their offspring have that much fun? Ya, it's definitely not me. "It's all good."

Outside The Box

I wish I could gain insight into the workings of Makell's mind. It would solve oh so many problems if I could just grasp how and why she thinks the way she does. She is an 'out of the box' thinker. I'm in the box. WAY in the box. Makell looks at life from a different perspective. Exhibit A:

Who knew that you could lower your music stand to the ground and then sit on the floor to play your violin. Her teacher would have a coronary if she knew. Maybe when Makell grows up she can join an orchestra and convince all of them to sit on the ground as well. She'll ask the audience to stand instead.

Another one of her latest 'out-of-the-box' endeavors is writing backwards. Not the words themselves, but just the letters. Instead of writing each letter the way we are all taught--starting at the top of the letter, she is now doing the opposite. She will start at the bottom of each letter. The end results look the same, but the process is different. I have been watching her write over the last week--she starts at the end of a lowercase 'e' or the bottom of and 'h' or 't' and then forms/writes the letter in a backwards motion.

For a majority of Makell's life, I have looked at what she does and thought, ".....I wonder why?" Why does she write backwards, why does she slather her body with vaseline, why does she put a stool on top of the stove and stand on it, why does she throw everything in her room out the window, why does she cut her pants with scissors at school? Occasionally I'll ask her "why....?" She just shrugs her shoulders and responds, "because I want to."

It can be exasperrating raising an out-of-the-box child. I reprimand her far more than I should, mostly out of sheer frustration. But yet, there are times when I look at this girl and realize that one of the purposes of her life is to teach me to broaden my view from inside my rigid box. Sometimes as I am asking her, "why are you doing that!?", I am also wondering, "well, why not?" She has made me stretch the boundaries of my box. Her free-spirit nature is fascinating. While I wish I could find a way to manage that spirit, at the same time I find such delight in watching Makell be.....Makell. Maybe writing backwards is the forward way of thinking. Maybe sitting on the floor to practice is way better than standing. And maybe, just maybe, having an out-of-the box child is a priceless gift from heaven.

Back Where She Belongs

Riley came home today. Endless joy. Her medicine is stabilized and she has reached the 6 pound mark. Still a long road ahead, but each small blessing seems more like a miracle.