15 weeks 4 days

(Is it "bear with me" or "bare with me"? - either way, I'm using the new blog post editor and I swear it's missing the spellcheck and I'm not a moron. Although those two things might not be mutually exclusive.)

Ok. This ad thing is rolling. So far, we've earned $.07. Adsense apparently only pays out in $100 increments, so keep it up. The internet might be obsolete before we get a check, but that's how it goes.

This week Sean was loaned a book by a co-worker (whose name escapes me or else I would credit her!) called, "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Babies". That's the name of the book - remember, I don't know the name of the co-worker. Stay with me here. The book talks about techniques to get your baby not only to fall asleep but stay asleep longer and all of the behavior that is impacted as a result. Sean admittedly scanned the book, and I still haven't read it, but one of the main points is to put the baby to bed early and reap the rewards.

So we tried it. Sean feeds the girls around 4:30-5 ish, which is when they let us know they're hungry rather than a specific schedule on our part. I get home around 6 and cuddle with the fussiest girl until she's sound asleep in my arms. Ordinarily, I'd then put her in her chair in the living room and around 8 they'd wake up and eat again. Repeat at 11, 2, 5, etc.

In this new system, once the girl falls asleep, she gets put into her bed where it's dark, so there's no visual stimuli, and the radio is on NPR. (It couldn't hurt!) Amazingly, the first night we did this, the girls slept until 3 in the morning. That's 10 hours without eating and over 6 hours of sleep. Did I say amazing? We were a little uncertain if it was ok for them to go that long without eating until we remembered that when they're hungry, they let us know. In no uncertain terms. So, I wake up and feed them at 3 and then they sleep until the nanny arrives just before 7. And even better, when they wake up, they're calm and patient and pleasant. I don't know how it works. It's magic and it doesn't make any sense to me, but I like it.

The drawback is that Sean adjusted the schedule slightly on Wednesday because he had to pick up his sister at the ferry, so the girls were fed a little early and then fell asleep in the car a little earlier than usual. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to get them back on schedule yet, but I'm eager to because I think this thing could really work out. I hesitate to say it, but I almost feel rested. Please don't let this admission jinx me.

We've now seen Lilah roll from her stomach to her back! Sean hovered with the video camera for several minutes when it looked like she was making progress, but when it didn't look like it was going to happen, he turned it off and stepped away. Suddenly, *roll*! She did it! And we missed recording it. So we turned her over, turned on the camera and waited. (Is that cruel? I picture her thinking - Jeez, guys, I worked freakin' hard to get in this position and now you make me start over?! Come on!) It only took her about a minute to repeat and we finally got it on tape. Another milestone is that when Sean was playing with Charlotte, tickling her tummy and her cheek, she smiled and giggled! It was the first time she had smiled and laughed in response to us, and it's another 3 month milestone that we can check off the list. We keep getting surprised by how much these girls are keeping up with the milestones for their non-adjusted age. After all, you don't see many 8 pound babies rolling over and holding their heads up independently. But they do have a *bit* of high-acheiver in their lineage. We'll have them quoting Shakespeare and tuning carburetors by their first birthdays. Wait and see.

In other news, I haven't blogged about this yet, but I'm having continued issues with my c-section incision and it's really getting on my last nerve (no pun intended). Apparently, the Labor and Delivery folks were instructed to try out a new type of stitch called a quill stitch, which is how they closed my incision. The perinatologist (whom we absolutely adore) described it as a stitch that works best for "overweight oncology patients". I'm still not sure of the distinction. Either way, as things healed up and swelling went down, the stitches started to loosen. And when they loosen, they rub their way up to the surface, causing small abscesses along the way until they finally break through the skin. There were a few that we had to snip or else they would continue to rub and cause me discomfort, but now that enough time has passed, once they get to the surface, they have started to dissolve enough that they break off on their own. About once a week I have a new stitch start to have problems. At my 8 week check-up, I let the perinatologist know that this was happening and she said that I wasn't the only one experiencing this problem and they have now stopped using that stitch. Unfortunately, there is no solution except to let it run it's course. I filed a quality of care complaint so that UWMC was aware that this was happening and not do it to anyone else, but the nature of those complaints means that I can't know the findings or outcomes. Bummer.

Hey, don't forget to vote for Best of the Northwest: http://best.king5.com/contests/best-of-western-washington/4749  (yes, you have to register) Sean and I are particularly big fans of Luke Burbank for Local Radio Personality, so if you don't have your own preference, cast your vote in his direction for us, will ya? http://best.king5.com/luke-burbank/biz/133325 He has to at least beat that lame schmoozer, Fitz. Sur-iously.

And finally, this Saturday our cul-de-sac is having a group garage sale, so come by and see what kinds of things we're trying to unload on unsuspecting strangers... or you.

Selling out

In the next few days, you might notice something different about our blog: ads.

I resisted for a long time because I post for friends and family (and their friends, family, colleagues, pets and assorted other associates) and because I hate ads. Hate ads. Especially the ones that use key words from the site as though the person were actively promoting that item.

But, word has it that a lot of people read this blog; people that I've never met but who hopefully now feel like they know us a little. And we now have twins. And between diapers, formula, childcare and medical costs, the budget is running pretty tight for the foreseeable future. And I do offer some semblance of entertainment for you, yes? (Just say yes. I don't need to know the truth.)

So, I gave in. Maybe the ads will force me to be more interesting/humorous/blog-a-riffic so you're more likely to visit our site regularly. Maybe that will mean that you'll pass us along to your other friends. Who knows? Maybe we'll earn 13 cents a month and I'll take it down because my integrity is worth more than that. How much is my integrity worth, you might ask? Well, AdSense won't disclose how much I can expect to see, so right now it's on a sliding scale.

Either way, don't be alarmed by the links you'll see soon. Just click on them and consider it a small way you can keep the girls and Roscoe fed and clothed. Well, we don't actually clothe Roscoe except for his Seahawks jersey and the uber-hilarious paw protectors for when he's around barnacles, but you get the idea.

And now for my next assignment for you: Who reads this thing, anyway? I'm super curious. If you get a chance, could you either add yourself as a "follower" (there is a section on the left side here called "Followers" where you can click "Follow this blog") or write me a comment to this post to let me know who you are? Perhaps something like, "I don't want to give my name, but I'm a friend of your mother and I check the blog weekly. I want more pictures, you slacker." Or maybe, "I work with your friend, (name here), and I only check this blog because she always leaves it up on our shared work computer. But I guess that counts." You get the idea.

And, for those who want me to bring back Cooter's biography, I'll have to decline for awhile. Cooter (oh crap, I'm starting to cry just writing this because I haven't fully admitted this until now) isn't with us any longer. One day about a month ago he just didn't come back home. He's not a roamer and he's neutered and microchipped, so we don't think he's off gathering new material for his book. There is a large greenbelt in our neighborhood and there have been coyotes spotted and heard howling. We think that he's gone for good. It breaks my heart because he was the coolest cat ever and only 2 years old and he deserved to pass away in his sleep 20 years from now on top of his scratching post perch, dreaming about catching the heron that eats all the goldfish in our neighbor's pond. Instead, I picture him surprised and scared and in pain and it hurts me to think I couldn't be there for him. We miss him so much that Sean and I both have dreams that he comes back and waits for us in the house, but then we wake up and know that he's not really coming back. So, Cooter's entries are probably retired, but rest assured that I'll eventually come up with another regular entry for your reading pleasure.

Twin haiku #1

I answer the phone
Two demons shriek in my ear
Please call back later

14 weeks 3 days

Maybe the mid-week transition is what does the girls in. Maybe they're in a new phase. Maybe they're the devil.

Last night I slept from 9:45-9:50 (yes, that would be 5 minutes in which I was actually asleep -and dreaming! - before the girls woke up), 11-1, 1:30-4. After that, Charlotte fell asleep post-feeding but Lilah flat out refused in the only way she knows how: screaming and writhing. She finally shut her eyes for the last time just before 6. I put her in her crib and my alarm went off. I hit snooze and curled up in a ball in my bed for just enough time to warm the sheets again. It was such a tease.

I don't understand why these girls would suddenly need to eat every three hours and sleep even less. I'm actually hoping they have a growth spurt soon so that they crash at night and sleep for up to 4 hours. That would be so awesome. So. Awesome.

So, today is Thursday and ordinarily people who blog would say something like, "Thank goodness tomorrow is Friday" or "The weekend is SO close" (picture me saying those things with dripping sarcasm) but not this girl. That's because the weekend is not a reprieve for us. Nothing stops except my commute. I take all the feedings on Friday nights since I don't work the next day, and Sean takes all the feedings on Monday nights for the same reasons, so we can give each other just the tiniest bit of brief relief. Sean actually texted me yesterday to say that all he wants for his birthday, which is 2 months away, is 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe I should add that to my Christmas list.

On the plus side, the nanny, Cindy, is an absolute godsend. She arrives at 6:45, sets her bag on the counter and immediately reaches out her arms for a baby. She may actually go through withdrawal over the weekends. She speaks softly and sweetly to them and texts us with photos of what they're up to during the day. At one point she said to me, "You know, the hard part about feeding both of them at the same time is that I can't make eye contact with them both at once!" I thought to myself, "Look them in the eye?! I'm so focused just getting them fed that it never occurred to me that would be important!"

So, she is wonderful with the girls. But a side bonus is that when she has down time, she cleans. Laundry, dishes, dusting, toilets - if it needs to be done and she has a chance, she does it. Now, maybe I tend to spend any down time with the girls attempting to get a nap, but I don't know how she has the time for all of this. All I know is that she takes such a burden off me by doing these chores that I've actually (in jest) suggested having more kids when the girls go to school just so we can keep having her help us! When I get home at the end of the day, I'm not looking at a pile of dishes or "Roscoe bunnies" floating down the hallway and thinking about what a disaster the house is and how I'll never see it clean again. Instead, I can enjoy holding a girl in my arms and maybe even pour myself a glass of wine. And for a brief moment I forget that another sleepless night is creeping closer as the sun goes down. Kind of like a C-grade vampire movie.

14 weeks

On Saturday, my mom and grandma came over in the morning to offer me a break so that I could go to the gym. Unfortunately, I was so tired from the long week back at work that I opted to stay home and take a nap. The girls did not cooperate. I find it really hard to sleep when I can hear them crying, even if I know it is being taken care of. It's not that I want to go out and help, I just can't sleep through it.

My mom laid the girls belly-down on a blanket at some point and Charlotte was wriggling around so much that she actually rolled over, witnessed by both my mom and grandma. I would have thought this to be a fluke except that Sean saw her do it again today! Way to go, Charlotte. Her other accomplishment today was a diaper that looked to be filled with an entire pudding cup - a massive blowout that went up her back and down to her socks.

I can't help but take a little joy in Sean having his first full day at home today. He has been nothing but supportive of me when I had the girls on my own, and never judgmental about me being in my pajamas when he gets home at 1 in the afternoon. But it's rewarding somehow to have someone else in my shoes, knowing firsthand the frustrations and exhaustion involved. I feel for him, I really do. The girls didn't cut him any breaks - waking up at 4 and sleeping in shifts until noon. That's 8 hours of crying. How do they know that the other one has fallen asleep or is ready to take the waking shift? It's like a psychic teeter-totter.

"Uh-oh. They caught us!"

From Charlotte and Lilah together

13 weeks 3 days

I am so tired today. So tired that I'm on the verge of tears for no other reason than that I'm tired. I'm a walking zombie with slightly less dirt on my clothing. Apparently the fact that I'm back at work is lost on my daughters, the succubi. (Succubi: noun, plural of succubus 1. a demon in female form, said to draw the energy out of a person until they are so exhausted they die.)

For the last two weeks or so, the girls eat at around 5:30 in the evening, fuss and squirm until around 8, finally are coerced into sleep using a series of rocking movements, wrapping in warm blankets, and shushing until we're pretty sure our own ears have lost the ability to hear that frequency, and then put to bed. To our amazement, they have then slept until 1 or 2 in the morning. Sean and I use that middle time to get ready for bed, prepare milk and bottles, get the coffee-maker ready and set for the break of dawn, and preparing lunches and work clothes so that we can sleep as close to departure time as possible and still be ready for the day. Sometimes, we even eat dinner. But not always. Sleep is, after all, a hot commodity these days.

If we're lucky, the girls take 30 minutes to eat (total if they are being fed simultaneously by both of us, 30 each if only one of us can feed them at a time), fall quickly into what we have termed a "milk coma", and sleep until 4 when we do it again. Or rather, I do it again, because Sean leaves for work around 3:30.

Now that I'm back at work, that 4:00 feeding all by myself can end around 5:30. My alarm is set for 6:00 so that I can leave the house by 6:45 and meet my carpool. So effectively, all sleep is over at 4. If I fall asleep at 9 (ha!), I get about 5.5 hours of sleep a night, none of it in more than 3 hour increments. Until last night.

The girls ate at 5:30 and 6, but then Lilah effectively fought sleep until 8. Sean had made dinner while I tried to soothe her and we scarfed it down while running interference for her pacifier-ejection skills. Once we moved them to their beds and did whatever voodoo we thought would keep them asleep after that transition, I did a quick mental run-down of all the tasks I would still need to do: pump, make milk, clean the bottles, fill the bottles, put the hot-water mugs into the microwave for quick starting later, clean up after dinner, take a shower, dry hair, put on pajamas, make sure my lunch was ready, make sure my clothes were ready, put away the groceries I brought home that were still in bags on the counter. Was that it? Probably not, but that was the current list.

At 9:45, I crawled into bed next to my snoring husband. Before he had fallen asleep around 8, he looked at his watch and said "4 hours. 45 minutes." "Huh?" "That's how long I get to sleep." He had to be at work at 2 in the morning for the next two days. He may not have meant it, but those words stuck in my head when the girls started crying to be fed at 10:30. The guilt seed was planted. I got up, since Sean has the incredible Rip Van Winkle ability to sleep through the grunts and cries until he actually hears my voice asking for help, and grabbed the first girl. I brought her out to the kitchen and pressed "Start" on the microwave so that the mugs of water would be ready to heat the bottles when I returned. I changed her diaper in the near darkness so as not to wake the other demon and begin a symphony of shrieks in unison and then brought her back out to the living room.

The one good thing about night feedings? Catching up on all my favorite DVRed programs. Last night it was the series premiere of America's Next Top Model. It was a 2 hour episode, so even with fast-forwarding through commercials, I was pretty sure I would have something decent to watch at every feeding. The. Demon. Took. 45. Minutes. Perhaps she was distracted by Tyra's ego? It is pretty awe inspiring, after all. Either way, when the milk coma started, it was 11:15. I repeated the cycle with the next girl and crawled into bed near midnight.

Sean kissed me goodbye around 1:30. One of the demons woke up at 2. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Crawl into bed at 3. Awake at 4 in complete disbelief that either of these girls could possibly be hungry already. Do a silent recounting of past transgressions to determine which might have possibly have earned me this particular spot in hell*. Feed one girl. Feed the other. Crawl into bed near 5:30 thinking, "A half-hour is at least something, right?" Alarm goes off. Lilah starts crying at 6:15. Attempt to appease her with a binky for just another 30 minutes until Cindy, the nanny can arrive, hoping that it will buy me enough time to brush my teeth and not be undressing when she finally walks down the hallway. Just barely make it because of the constant need to reinsert the binky after repeatedly searching a 5 foot radius around Lilah to find where she could have possibly ejected it. When Cindy arrives, Lilah is screaming enough to finally wake up Charlotte. Poor Cindy.

Thus was my night.

Before you think that I am on the verge of running away to join the circus, as my dad used to tell us about my mother, there was a moment of redemption amongst the Tyra mails and yawns. As I asked Charlotte to please keep eating at one of the feedings, she turned her wide eyes to me and looked at my face as though she was memorizing every detail. I smiled and she cocked her head as though this gesture was new to her and she was really seeing me for the first time. I stopped and stared, wondering what was going on in that newly forming mind, and kissed her forehead. She kept looking at me. It was pretty sweet.

But I still need a nap.

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*I looked it up. I'm in the second circle of hell, which Wikipedia describes as:

"Second Circle (Lust): Those overcome by lust are punished in this circle. They are the first ones to be truly punished in Hell. These souls are blown about to and fro by a violent storm, without hope of rest. This symbolizes the power of lust to blow one about needlessly and aimlessly."

This makes perfect sense since lust was ostensibly what got us into this. Good to know.