Well, it finally happened. Our first drop of blood was shed- our introduction to the wonderful world of stitches. Some of you may be wondering-"What happened?!" while others ask, "what took you so long???" I'll spare you the details, mainly because it's actually a very dull story, but those of you who know my family will be shocked to know that it was Livie, not Chloe who received her first battle wound in life.
A moment like that which we had yesterday will teach you a lot of things, and being that I am a teacher, I'm constantly looking for the "lessons" in life. The first thing I learned was that I would be a horrible paramedic or first responder of any kind. When I noticed that my daughter was bleeding, my first reaction, of course, was to panic. That panic sent me into a freeze montage not unlike those we used to enjoy in "Saved By the Bell", when Zack Morris would further explain the complex plot sequence through a monalogue. The world stood still and there I was, completely unable to determine what I should do next. I tell you this so that you know that should you EVER have ANY emergency of ANY sort, you should NOT call me. Don't call me because apparently, I will be of absolutely no service to you and the stress of it all will most likely damage our relationship.
Luckily, Geoff was standing by and was able to add some perspective to what I was pretty sure was Armageddon. Seriously, I thought I heard the trumpets cry from heaven, but in hindsight, it must have been the sound of me screaming that "Livie's hurt!".
The next thing that I learned is that you shouldn't judge Ms. Olivia by her petite stature. That little girl is quite the trooper. In fact, she stopped crying LOOOONG before my hands stopped shaking and didn't even flinch when the doctor put the glue on her head. (I know its not actually glue- yet another reason why I should NOT be a paramedic). That little doodle is fierce, and I have to say I was proud to see her up and playing tea time just 3 minutes after the incident occurred. Seriously, I was still holding a washcloth to her wound, trying to get the bleeding to stop and she was upset that she couldn't reach her teacup! Now, the fact that I know that she is tough is NOT going to affect me hovering over her whenever possible to impede a future event of this caliber from happening. But it's good to know that when the going gets tough- she can take it. And all I can say to that is, "that's my girl!".
Lastly, I've learned that as much as I helicopter these girls, there is nothing I can do to keep them from getting hurt in life. I'm sure this wont be the only time someone in my household will be getting stitches, and the day will come when they are teenagers and I will have no choice but to let them make their own wrong choices. When that time comes, like this incident, I'll continue to be ill prepared to hear my daughters cry, knowing that there is nothing I can do about it. I will probably be more upset than them about what is happening and I will also, much like I do for the stitches, blame myself for their pain. But, such is the life of a mother. Your daughters pain becomes your pain and that pain becomes your sleepless night. But for now, the scare is over and I think I'm a better mother for it. I just hope I can finish bubble-wrapping the house before the new year.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Salt and Pepper
When you hear the word "twins", what do you think of? Two identical human beings who walk the same, talk the same, think the same- or at the very least look the same, right? When I first found out I was having twins, I imagined the rest of my life to be like that Double-Mint gum commercial from the 1990's. You know, the one that showed two identical blonde girls, dressed the same and riding a bicycle built for two. Thats what I thought twins were supposed to be like. Isn's that what I learned in 5th grade human growth and development?
When Chloe and Olivia were first born, they certainly looked like twins. In fact, I know for a fact, that on more than one occassion, I fed Chloe twice and Livie not at all because I mixed them up. (Not my proudest moment, but one I'm willing to admit to.) Looking back on it, most babies kind of look the same when they are born. They're all bald (except for my nephew Noah who could do Pantene commercials from the hospital nursery),have those blue/gray eyes and spend most of their time sleeping and pooping. But as time has progressed, I find it harder and harder to convince people that my girls are twins. Heck, if I were to be honest with myself I would admit that its hard for me to convince MYSELF that they are twins. Other than the fact that they once shared my belly, there is nothing "twinny" about these girls.
Livie is what I call my "Zen" baby. She is calm and composed and has no problem playing tea time by herself if mom and dad are trying to get the house cleaned up. Chloe, on the other hand, practices her different screams throughout the day to see which one receives the most results and will not think twice about making your ears bleed if you cross her even once. So if you have the nerve to try to feed her or change her diaper or hug her when she is not in the mood, then prepare for a meltdown of epic proportions. Livie will then, of course, walk up to her sister mid-tantrum and stick a binkie in her mouth. She too seems to prefer the silence- like mommy does. But Chloe, despite her unnecessarily strong will is also full of energy and excitement. She jumps and dances and laughs with complete abandonment when you make a funny face. Livie makes you work for a laugh- she prefers the classics like a good knock-knock joke or a perfectly impromptu game of peek-a-boo. Their personalities are so different but when they come together, it makes total sense. Chloe adds fun and spontaneity to Olivia's day and Olivia calms Chloe and sits her down to "read" a book when she could see that mommy can take no more. They are a perfect pair, balancing each other out like a home-made recipe for perfectly moist cake.
As if their personality types weren't different enough, they also don't look very much alike- at all. Frankly, they barely look like sisters, much less twins. Livie has my face, with Geoff's long, lean body. She has my big brown eyes and my eyebrows (don't worry baby, there will be many more advancements in electrolysis by the time you're old enough to stress about it). She laughs like me and is sneaky like I used to be when I was little. But her "Zen Baby" personality is totally Geoff. Then there's Chloe- or "Geoff Jr." as she has been referred to more than once. With those beautiful blue eyes, she is the female version of her father. But, she has my body type and sadly, my personality. I don't like to think of it as a harsher character, but rather, more passionate... that's what I tell myself, anyway. They are the perfect hybrids of Geoff and I, equally representing us both so as to not make either one of us jealous. (Good looking out girls, cause mommy and daddy can be quite competitive.)
I once heard a comedian tell a joke about fraternal twins.It went something like this, " Fraternal twins are creepy. You see if you are baking, and you put chocolate batter into a cupcake mold, then you can expect to get a tray of chocolate cupcakes. Thats what identical twins are like. But with fraternal twins, you put in the chocolate batter and you come out with a chocolate cupcake and a vanilla cupcake and thats simply not natural". Although I laughed until I cried when I heard that joke, I can't help but disagree with this poor fool. Variety is the spice of life,my friends. And Chloe and Olivia are my salt and pepper-they make my life delicious!
When Chloe and Olivia were first born, they certainly looked like twins. In fact, I know for a fact, that on more than one occassion, I fed Chloe twice and Livie not at all because I mixed them up. (Not my proudest moment, but one I'm willing to admit to.) Looking back on it, most babies kind of look the same when they are born. They're all bald (except for my nephew Noah who could do Pantene commercials from the hospital nursery),have those blue/gray eyes and spend most of their time sleeping and pooping. But as time has progressed, I find it harder and harder to convince people that my girls are twins. Heck, if I were to be honest with myself I would admit that its hard for me to convince MYSELF that they are twins. Other than the fact that they once shared my belly, there is nothing "twinny" about these girls.
Livie is what I call my "Zen" baby. She is calm and composed and has no problem playing tea time by herself if mom and dad are trying to get the house cleaned up. Chloe, on the other hand, practices her different screams throughout the day to see which one receives the most results and will not think twice about making your ears bleed if you cross her even once. So if you have the nerve to try to feed her or change her diaper or hug her when she is not in the mood, then prepare for a meltdown of epic proportions. Livie will then, of course, walk up to her sister mid-tantrum and stick a binkie in her mouth. She too seems to prefer the silence- like mommy does. But Chloe, despite her unnecessarily strong will is also full of energy and excitement. She jumps and dances and laughs with complete abandonment when you make a funny face. Livie makes you work for a laugh- she prefers the classics like a good knock-knock joke or a perfectly impromptu game of peek-a-boo. Their personalities are so different but when they come together, it makes total sense. Chloe adds fun and spontaneity to Olivia's day and Olivia calms Chloe and sits her down to "read" a book when she could see that mommy can take no more. They are a perfect pair, balancing each other out like a home-made recipe for perfectly moist cake.
As if their personality types weren't different enough, they also don't look very much alike- at all. Frankly, they barely look like sisters, much less twins. Livie has my face, with Geoff's long, lean body. She has my big brown eyes and my eyebrows (don't worry baby, there will be many more advancements in electrolysis by the time you're old enough to stress about it). She laughs like me and is sneaky like I used to be when I was little. But her "Zen Baby" personality is totally Geoff. Then there's Chloe- or "Geoff Jr." as she has been referred to more than once. With those beautiful blue eyes, she is the female version of her father. But, she has my body type and sadly, my personality. I don't like to think of it as a harsher character, but rather, more passionate... that's what I tell myself, anyway. They are the perfect hybrids of Geoff and I, equally representing us both so as to not make either one of us jealous. (Good looking out girls, cause mommy and daddy can be quite competitive.)
I once heard a comedian tell a joke about fraternal twins.It went something like this, " Fraternal twins are creepy. You see if you are baking, and you put chocolate batter into a cupcake mold, then you can expect to get a tray of chocolate cupcakes. Thats what identical twins are like. But with fraternal twins, you put in the chocolate batter and you come out with a chocolate cupcake and a vanilla cupcake and thats simply not natural". Although I laughed until I cried when I heard that joke, I can't help but disagree with this poor fool. Variety is the spice of life,my friends. And Chloe and Olivia are my salt and pepper-they make my life delicious!
Friday, May 6, 2011
The Death of "Cool"
One of my students called me "mommy" today. Something so cute would flatter most teachers- after all, a "mommy" is the Yoda of all teachers.But still, this mistake, though most likely meaningless to the student, sent me through a loop so twisted I needed breadcrumbs to find my way out. I outwardly smiled to ease his embarrassment, but inwardly went into a frenzy...since when did I become "mom-confusion" material??? Now, I remember a time in the not-so-distant past that I was being asked to the Eighth Grade Dance, not being mistaken for someone's mother! I mourned silently... for the death of cool.
There are a lot of things you give up as a mom: sleep, peace-of mind, tight stomach muscles (that may just be me) but coolness? Really?! There have been many symptoms of the degenerative disease known as "uncoolness", but I guess I simply ignored the signs. There was the time I caught myself listening to "Delilah" on Coast FM, and shortly thereafter I recall a phone call to my husband asking him to bring a mini-van home for the weekend. I can no longer listen to WU-Tang Clan without being distracted by the unnecessary use of violence and profanity. A few weeks back, I stumbled into Aeropostale and spent the next 30 minutes rambling to my husband about the importance of appropriate hem lines and the "fingertip rule" for when our daughters get older. Could it be I've lost my "edge"?
In college, I used to drink Mountain Dew from the time I woke up in the morning to the time my head hit the pillow after a night out with the girls. The thought of drinking caffein after 4 frightens me for I know I'll be up all night thinking about whether or not private school is really worth the money when it comes to looking for preschools. And chicken wings? My ex-favorite food- are too spicy for THIS sad Mexican. (As I write this, my Aztec ancestors all rolled over in their pyramids).
So like Robert Frost, I now see that "two roads are diverging in the woods". I can take the road to the right and submit to my new found "uncoolness" or fight the good fight for some "mojo". I can continue to wear shoes because they're comfortable despite their lack of aesthetic appeal or SUCK IT UP and head back to my nearest Charles David. I can stop singing children's songs to myself all day or dust off my Green Day, Weezer and Pearl Jam CDs. I can begin buying those "my family" stickers for the back of my car or slap the "Rolling Stones" symbol up on the back windshield instead...
Two roads diverge in the woods and I walk the road refusing to wear mom jeans and Keds... and that made all the difference.
There are a lot of things you give up as a mom: sleep, peace-of mind, tight stomach muscles (that may just be me) but coolness? Really?! There have been many symptoms of the degenerative disease known as "uncoolness", but I guess I simply ignored the signs. There was the time I caught myself listening to "Delilah" on Coast FM, and shortly thereafter I recall a phone call to my husband asking him to bring a mini-van home for the weekend. I can no longer listen to WU-Tang Clan without being distracted by the unnecessary use of violence and profanity. A few weeks back, I stumbled into Aeropostale and spent the next 30 minutes rambling to my husband about the importance of appropriate hem lines and the "fingertip rule" for when our daughters get older. Could it be I've lost my "edge"?
In college, I used to drink Mountain Dew from the time I woke up in the morning to the time my head hit the pillow after a night out with the girls. The thought of drinking caffein after 4 frightens me for I know I'll be up all night thinking about whether or not private school is really worth the money when it comes to looking for preschools. And chicken wings? My ex-favorite food- are too spicy for THIS sad Mexican. (As I write this, my Aztec ancestors all rolled over in their pyramids).
So like Robert Frost, I now see that "two roads are diverging in the woods". I can take the road to the right and submit to my new found "uncoolness" or fight the good fight for some "mojo". I can continue to wear shoes because they're comfortable despite their lack of aesthetic appeal or SUCK IT UP and head back to my nearest Charles David. I can stop singing children's songs to myself all day or dust off my Green Day, Weezer and Pearl Jam CDs. I can begin buying those "my family" stickers for the back of my car or slap the "Rolling Stones" symbol up on the back windshield instead...
Two roads diverge in the woods and I walk the road refusing to wear mom jeans and Keds... and that made all the difference.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Letter to My Daughters
In less than 1 week, Chloe and Olivia will be turning one. This fact is a bittersweet one for me. On the one hand, I am overjoyed at the notion that Geoff and I survived what has been the most difficult task I have been given in my life thus far. On the other hand, I am saddened at the thought that those tiny babies who would let me hold them for hours are now just a memory. People always tell you that is all goes by so quickly, but when you are in the trenches it sometimes feels eternal. I did my best to enjoy every moment- every smile, every new milestone, every hug. But inevitably, time won! (As it always does.) My babies are no longer babies- but rather, toddlers.
In the spirit of "springing forward" (hope you all set your clocks up an hour), I wanted to take a glimpse into the future and put on paper some advice I would like my daughters to have.
Dear Chloe and Olivia,
The day we welcomed you into this world, we welcomed true happiness into the world. From the moment I became your mommy, my life changed. I felt lucky and blessed and to be honest, a little scared. I wasn't scared for myself but rather for you.I wanted to protect you from everything. Now, I know I can't go through life keeping you away from harm but here is some advice. You may not follow it all right away, but carry it in your heart in hopes that it will guide and comfort you one day in the future.
1. Be kind to everyone. Whether its opening a door for someone going into a building or saying please and thank you to a waiter- always be kind. Don't be kind because you want something in return but rather because being kind is what GOOD people do. And you are GOOD people.
2. You are beautifully unique. One day someone will come along and tell you to change who you are. Don't. It's easy to be like everyone else. It's being yourself at all times that shows character.
3. Don't be afraid to take chances. This was always a hard one for me. Whether its mixing stripes and polka dots in an outfit or studying in Italy for a year- DO IT! Those who live a life of fear, don't live at all.
4. Listen to your mommy. I know this may seem like a selfish rule, but its true. I would never do anything to harm you. I've been fortunate to have made many mistakes in my life so that you could learn from them. Consider this an advantage!
5. Fall in love with someone who deserves you. You are a prize. Any man who doesn't see that doesn't deserve you. The rule of thumb is: If his unconditional love and character reminds you of your daddy, then he's a keeper!
6. Don't be too serious. One day you'll no longer be a child. This does not mean you have to be boring. There is nothing wrong with playing in the rain or reading the comics before the headlines. Cartoons should always be a Saturday morning staple.
7. Work hard, but understand that there will always be someone richer or more powerful than you. This shouldn't discourage you. It should just remind you that money isn't everything and that faith and family are always more important.
8. Stay close to one another. I know being a twin isn't always fun, but only special people are chosen to come in twos. Your being twins is a gift from God. Love each other and take care of each other- even if your mad at each other.
9. Be compassionate. Just as there will always be someone more powerful and richer than you, there will always be someone less fortunate than you. Show love to the less fortunate because it's what Christ did. You should always work to be more like Christ.
10. Love God. To love someone, you have to get to know them. Read His word and attach yourself to people who love Him too. He will take care of you, even when mommy cant.
I hope these rules will help you one day and that you know that everything I do, I do out of love. I hope you will understand that in my eyes, you will always be my little babies.
I love you forever and ever,
Mommy
In the spirit of "springing forward" (hope you all set your clocks up an hour), I wanted to take a glimpse into the future and put on paper some advice I would like my daughters to have.
Dear Chloe and Olivia,
The day we welcomed you into this world, we welcomed true happiness into the world. From the moment I became your mommy, my life changed. I felt lucky and blessed and to be honest, a little scared. I wasn't scared for myself but rather for you.I wanted to protect you from everything. Now, I know I can't go through life keeping you away from harm but here is some advice. You may not follow it all right away, but carry it in your heart in hopes that it will guide and comfort you one day in the future.
1. Be kind to everyone. Whether its opening a door for someone going into a building or saying please and thank you to a waiter- always be kind. Don't be kind because you want something in return but rather because being kind is what GOOD people do. And you are GOOD people.
2. You are beautifully unique. One day someone will come along and tell you to change who you are. Don't. It's easy to be like everyone else. It's being yourself at all times that shows character.
3. Don't be afraid to take chances. This was always a hard one for me. Whether its mixing stripes and polka dots in an outfit or studying in Italy for a year- DO IT! Those who live a life of fear, don't live at all.
4. Listen to your mommy. I know this may seem like a selfish rule, but its true. I would never do anything to harm you. I've been fortunate to have made many mistakes in my life so that you could learn from them. Consider this an advantage!
5. Fall in love with someone who deserves you. You are a prize. Any man who doesn't see that doesn't deserve you. The rule of thumb is: If his unconditional love and character reminds you of your daddy, then he's a keeper!
6. Don't be too serious. One day you'll no longer be a child. This does not mean you have to be boring. There is nothing wrong with playing in the rain or reading the comics before the headlines. Cartoons should always be a Saturday morning staple.
7. Work hard, but understand that there will always be someone richer or more powerful than you. This shouldn't discourage you. It should just remind you that money isn't everything and that faith and family are always more important.
8. Stay close to one another. I know being a twin isn't always fun, but only special people are chosen to come in twos. Your being twins is a gift from God. Love each other and take care of each other- even if your mad at each other.
9. Be compassionate. Just as there will always be someone more powerful and richer than you, there will always be someone less fortunate than you. Show love to the less fortunate because it's what Christ did. You should always work to be more like Christ.
10. Love God. To love someone, you have to get to know them. Read His word and attach yourself to people who love Him too. He will take care of you, even when mommy cant.
I hope these rules will help you one day and that you know that everything I do, I do out of love. I hope you will understand that in my eyes, you will always be my little babies.
I love you forever and ever,
Mommy
Friday, February 11, 2011
Crazy Baby Momma
Fact: I hate taking my girls to the doctor. Now, this may seem like a common sense comment; after all, most parents don't like to take their kids to the doctor because it usually means that their child is sick. But I hate taking my girls to the doctor even for their wellness check-ups. My stomach gets nervous, my hands get sweaty and I occasionally stutter at even the simplest question like "patients' name, please?". You see, as premature babies, my girls are small, and inevitably, there will be a mom in the waiting room who is just dying to know all of the girl's stats- and compare them with her baby's stats. "How much did they weigh when they were born? How much do they weigh now? Are they crawling yet? Are they walking yet? Can they do Chinese Algebra? Have they figured out Newton's Laws of Physics yet?" On and on and on the questions go and without fail, this incredibly well-meaning but annoying person will say something like "they're just so small!". And it's true- my girls are victims of two truths (1) they were born 5 weeks early and (2) their mother is short. I wasn't always short. In fact I was an Amazon-type woman through elementary and middle school but decided to stop growing at the age of 12. So it's no surprise to me that my girls are small, but apparently other people find their size to be downright comical. You see, Chloe can now, at almost 11 months, pass for an 8 month old. Poor Livie still looks like she's 6 months old. But they crawl and walk if you hold their finger and do most of the things that "normal" 10 month old babies do. But I find myself ignoring all of these incredible milestones and comparing my babies to single babies that had the luxury of their very own uterus. And when I see a baby that I could've sworn was 14 months old and realize that they are in fact 9 months old, there is part of me that becomes sad and even self-conscience. I know that mom is comparing her baby to mine, and 99% of the time, that baby is always bigger, taller, a better eater...
I dread knowing that I'll have to listen to stories about how her baby was so big at birth they confused him for the doctor and how their child is so far ahead developmentally that they'll probably skip primary and secondary schooling and go directly into college- Doogie Howser style.
I've spent a lot of time obsessing over these interactions despite my husband's constant reminder that most preemie babies catch up by the age of 2. These interactions have led me to panicked nights where I can't sleep wondering if I'm feeding them enough, stimulating them enough, challenging them enough... loving them enough? It's as though reading the girls that 15th board book of the day would all of a suddenly make them jump up out of their cribs and begin to walk. What goes on in my mind is downright crazy.
Well, the other day I received an email from a parent of one of my students at school who wanted to know what they could do to further challenge their already "A" student. As I wrote back an encouraging email about how wonderful that child is already I suddenly thought to myself, " Will I be this demanding when the girls grow up?" Will I be so obsessed with what my girls are not achieving that I will miss the fact that they are utterly amazing? From what I see as a teacher, this happens all of the time.
The bottom line is this- I need to calm down. (Yes, Geoff, you're right). My girls are perfect. Yes, perfect. And no, they may not reach every milestone as dictated by that "What to Expect" book but the fact is that they are just fine. They're more than fine... they're Chloe and Olivia.
So this coming Friday we will be going to see the GI doctor and without a doubt I will run into "crazy comparison mom" in the waiting room. I wonder what would happen if I told her that the girls are only 5 months old? She'd probably drive home obsessing over why her child isn't as developed as those twins she saw crawling and holding their own bottles in the waiting room. She'll obsess because she's a mom. And thats what mothers do!
I dread knowing that I'll have to listen to stories about how her baby was so big at birth they confused him for the doctor and how their child is so far ahead developmentally that they'll probably skip primary and secondary schooling and go directly into college- Doogie Howser style.
I've spent a lot of time obsessing over these interactions despite my husband's constant reminder that most preemie babies catch up by the age of 2. These interactions have led me to panicked nights where I can't sleep wondering if I'm feeding them enough, stimulating them enough, challenging them enough... loving them enough? It's as though reading the girls that 15th board book of the day would all of a suddenly make them jump up out of their cribs and begin to walk. What goes on in my mind is downright crazy.
Well, the other day I received an email from a parent of one of my students at school who wanted to know what they could do to further challenge their already "A" student. As I wrote back an encouraging email about how wonderful that child is already I suddenly thought to myself, " Will I be this demanding when the girls grow up?" Will I be so obsessed with what my girls are not achieving that I will miss the fact that they are utterly amazing? From what I see as a teacher, this happens all of the time.
The bottom line is this- I need to calm down. (Yes, Geoff, you're right). My girls are perfect. Yes, perfect. And no, they may not reach every milestone as dictated by that "What to Expect" book but the fact is that they are just fine. They're more than fine... they're Chloe and Olivia.
So this coming Friday we will be going to see the GI doctor and without a doubt I will run into "crazy comparison mom" in the waiting room. I wonder what would happen if I told her that the girls are only 5 months old? She'd probably drive home obsessing over why her child isn't as developed as those twins she saw crawling and holding their own bottles in the waiting room. She'll obsess because she's a mom. And thats what mothers do!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The "C" Word
Last year, on December 24th, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. You hear the word "cancer" all of the time, but I assure you it takes on a whole new meaning when it's used with a family members' name in the same sentence. At the time, I was 5 months pregnant with the girls. That day, as we went through the motions of the traditional "Noche Buena", there was a dark cloud in the room... it was the "C" word. We never really talked about it which is odd because in my family, we talk about EVERYTHING! I later found out that everyone purposely kept things from me to keep me from being stressed out. It's not easy incubating two human beings during the winter of the dreaded Swine Flu. But I remember standing in the shower Christmas morning, letting the water fall on me while I just cried . This was not any type of crying, friends. This was the type of crying you did only when you where a little kid and something catastrophic happened that made you feel like the world would never be the same again. I remember crying like this when TGIF was cancelled. What would I do without the Full House/ Family Matters combo on Friday nights? It's crying with complete abandonment.
As I cried in the shower that morning, I realized that if the "C" word got its way, my daughters would only hear about their "lita" in past tense, I would not have the best friend I had come to know in my adulthood, and the world would have lost one of the most faithful women to ever exist. Was this really happening to US?
The remainder of my pregnancy was not what I imagined it would be. I needed to be taken care of by my mom and she needed to be taken care of by me. Ironically, neither one of us where in any condition to be taking care of anyone! In all reality, the one taking care of us ALL was God, though at the time it seemed like he was hiding.It is because of Him, though, that we can look forward to the upcoming holiday season with the confidence to say that my mother is cancer free.
We celebrated my mom's victory over the "C" word through the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Walk last month. But as I looked around at the friends and family that had gathered in support of Team "Lita", I realized something important. We were not just celebrating the strength of my mother as an individual (although she never showed a moment of weakness throughout her treatment), but we were celebrating the family that God had somehow created while we were busy worrying. There stood my oldest brother Raul, his wife Rachel (who by now had become more of a big sister to me) and baby Noah- the nephew we had waited for for so long. Next to them was my brother Roly and his new wife Mailin- the woman I always knew my brother deserved. Then there was Geoff and I with Chloe and Olivia. How had this family survived without their giggles and smiles for so long? Holding my mother's hand was my father. He had been by her side from day one, quietly keeping the family together as he always does.WE had not only survived, but thrived under circumstances that many families would crumble under.
So this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the "C" word. Thank you for allowing us to learn that we are stronger than we ever imagined. That a family united is something to be reckoned with. That God's plan for our lives will overpower all logic, science and yes even the "C" word.
As I cried in the shower that morning, I realized that if the "C" word got its way, my daughters would only hear about their "lita" in past tense, I would not have the best friend I had come to know in my adulthood, and the world would have lost one of the most faithful women to ever exist. Was this really happening to US?
The remainder of my pregnancy was not what I imagined it would be. I needed to be taken care of by my mom and she needed to be taken care of by me. Ironically, neither one of us where in any condition to be taking care of anyone! In all reality, the one taking care of us ALL was God, though at the time it seemed like he was hiding.It is because of Him, though, that we can look forward to the upcoming holiday season with the confidence to say that my mother is cancer free.
We celebrated my mom's victory over the "C" word through the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Walk last month. But as I looked around at the friends and family that had gathered in support of Team "Lita", I realized something important. We were not just celebrating the strength of my mother as an individual (although she never showed a moment of weakness throughout her treatment), but we were celebrating the family that God had somehow created while we were busy worrying. There stood my oldest brother Raul, his wife Rachel (who by now had become more of a big sister to me) and baby Noah- the nephew we had waited for for so long. Next to them was my brother Roly and his new wife Mailin- the woman I always knew my brother deserved. Then there was Geoff and I with Chloe and Olivia. How had this family survived without their giggles and smiles for so long? Holding my mother's hand was my father. He had been by her side from day one, quietly keeping the family together as he always does.WE had not only survived, but thrived under circumstances that many families would crumble under.
So this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the "C" word. Thank you for allowing us to learn that we are stronger than we ever imagined. That a family united is something to be reckoned with. That God's plan for our lives will overpower all logic, science and yes even the "C" word.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Ooooh! We're Halfway There! Wooah, Living on a Prayer!
I have to admit something. Every now and then I stop and I think to myself, "What was God thinking when he decided I should carry and raise twins?" I've literally NEVER in my life carried an infant much less changed a diaper. And the most experience I've had caring for children was when I was a little girl and I would put tissues on each of my stuffed animals before I went to bed so that they wouldn't get cold at night. (True story).You see, I was the youngest child in my family and so my job growing up was to be adorable, get spoiled and get my brothers in trouble as much as possible. So when I saw those two lima beans show up at that first ultrasound back in August of '09, I instantly hoped that all of those women who said that once you become a mom you just naturally "know" what to do were right. Otherwise, Geoff and I were going to have to sell our house and move in to my mothers house until the girls were old enough to fend for themselves!I had no idea how to be a mom. I don't know how to teach someone how to tie their shoe and I honestly don't know the lyrics to "I'm a Little Teapot".Thankfully, with a mixture of extensive research as well as that elusive "motherly instinct", I have finally and successfully reached the halfway mark to my first year as a mommy.
When sharing my experiences as a mother of twins, I've had people say to me "Wow! I could never do what you're doing!" Don't be fooled! I like to think of myself as a duck: calm, cool and collected above the surface but with my little feet treading water at 100 mph underneath. I think as a parent, you always second guess yourself. I always wonder if the air conditioner is too cold or if the girls are comfortable in their car seats. I go to sleep sometimes thinking I might've spent too much time with with Olivia that day and wonder if Chloe thinks I favor her sister. I even think about the possibility that one day they will hate their names and want to change them to something less common like Penelope or Pheobe. But as I sit here watching my girls sleep in their bouncy chairs on the night of their "half birthday", I think to myself " You done good, Grace Johnson. You done good!". The girls are happy, healthy and best of all- completely loved and adored by Geoff and I. Now I'm pretty sure we will make mistakes in the future as we've done in the past. For example-apparently, not having a clean diaper ready to go when changing a dirty one will lead to a doodie splatter effect on the wall that will force you to repaint that nursery wall in its entirety. But I can honestly say that Geoff and I have spent the majority of the past 6 months laughing at ourselves and each other. I laugh at him for playing the air trumpet every time the girls get sad-even in public. And he thinks I'm crazy for narrating everything through song like I'm starting in my own Broadway musical. (The girl's absolutely love the "we're going to change your stinky diaper" song- so the joke's on him!). The bottom line is this, God didn't chose me- he chose US. He chose us because we're a great team. I stay up late washing bottles and folding laundry and he wakes up early to give the girls their medicine and make their 6 AM bottle. He likes to child proof every corner of the house despite the fact that the girls are not yet crawling and I like to enhance their sense of individuality by allowing them to choose their outfits in the morning. (You do this by laying a few options out and letting them grab, kick or spit up on the outfit of their "choosing"). I freak out about using chemicals in the house and he runs out to get every non-chemical cleaner available in the market to replace our old stuff at 11 o'clock at night. He is the peanut to my jelly. The Batman to my Batgirl. The Ricky Ricardo to my Lucy. We are a team. So lately, I don't find myself wondering why God chose me, but rather thanking God for choosing US. No, we are not the perfect parents but we love those girls. And at the end of the day you have to just say, "Oh well, I'll just have to remember to put that diaper on tighter next time I'm wearing light khaki pants in a very public place.....".
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