Four years on the job

Four years ago this morning, I woke up at an ungodly hour.  I don't think I was even sleeping when the alarm went off.  I took a shower, put on the only shirt that fit me and nervously climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

Brad and I were on our way to the hospital to have our babies.

I remember that the temperature was cool.  I remember that the ride in the elevator was surreal.
The nurses were a hive of activity as I laid on the bed, ready to be transported into the operating room.  Brad put on a gown and waited, anxious and annoyed that he couldn't be with me, as I got an epidural.

The Doctor started explaining what she was doing.  I asked her to withhold a "play-by-play".
I had just spent 35 weeks and 5 days making people, but now I was a spectator.  I would sit back and let the lives I created come into this world.  After the next moment, I would no longer be a spectator or on the sidelines.  I would have a big job ahead of me.  I tried to enjoy this moment.

"Here is Baby A"
(My first thought upon seeing my darling little girl was, "Huh.  I guess that is what my kids look like.  Huh.")

Before I could gather another thought - 
"Here is Baby B"
("Huh.  That one doesn't look anything like the other one.")

I was aware of the instant activity as they whisked Baby A away.  The nurses were making sure that she couldn't struggle to breathe.  Although I was aware that this might be the case, I was increasingly concerned as I kissed the head of Baby B.

I would see my daughters for one more brief moment before I was left to my own recovery.
I touched their feet, noticed their thick hair.  I was aware of a man next to me receiving pamphlets for corrective surgery for his child's cleft palate.

I wouldn't see them again until 9pm that evening.  14 hours of waiting.
I was wheeled into the NICU to start my job in which I had awaited a lifetime.
"Mam, no time to spare.  Each child needs changing.  Let me show you how to change them inside the isolate and then you need to feed them..."

My job had started.
I became a Mom 4 years ago this morning.
Happy Birthday to the two most amazing people I have ever met.
I love you, my baby girls.
You are everything to me.

Peek-a-BOO! There you are!

"POST SOMETHING" is the exact demand I received from my sister.
I know, I know... I haven't kept up with my blog.
Where have I been, you ask?

I've been scanning family and high school photos.
During this summer, I've scanned almost 2,000 high school negatives.
Yeah.

I've found gems of my best friends:

I've also found great old family shots (who gives a baby a cigar?  MY family)

And a few great early shots of my husband (I would say, "pre-gray hair", but he still doesn't have any). Look how cute he is! I really dated him for his awesome sense of humor and sweetness... the good looks were a bonus.

I've also transitioned into a few other rolls this summer. As of this Friday, my roll as "Room Mom" at the daycare is over (yay!). I've added Big-Sis coordinator to my Mothers of Multiples responsibilities, which also include "Web Mistress" (a title I enjoy more than the job).

So, it isn't that my blog has been ignored... it is that I'm trying to prioritize.

Why am I updating now?
My scanner is broken.
I believe that after 6,000+ scanned images, I've finally burned out the bulb...which is shockingly difficult to replace.

With that, I'll promise more updates on the girls and our adventures... until I get the scanner working, again.
I mean, who wouldn't want to see more of THIS?!

Epic Family Trip... Post 1... "Champs"

Our epic family trip was a result of an invitation to see a launch.  

Garrett Reisman was kind enough to give a causeway pass that would allow us to view the shuttle launch from 4 miles away.  

This is Garrett at work.

We turned the launch into a cross country trip with a two night stay in Destin, 

a trip to a party in Cocoa Beach (for Garrett), 

 

Downtown Disneyland

and Magic Kingdom.

 The girls are excellent travelers.  

They often woke up in the morning asking, “Where are we going today?”
Champs.

And then we went over here.

I clearly haven't had time to post about our Epic Family Trip to Destin, the Shuttle Launch and Disney World. The post will be fanTAStic... when I have time to write it.

For now, please enjoy an overview of our visit to Magic Kingdom given by the girls after a long, long day. (Video taken from the iiiitty bitty little Disney hotel room...)

Bars and Fairies

It occurred to me the other morning that my life is in a constant state of lower standards. I’m not complaining, mind you. This is just an observation. It has probably made me a happier person (not that being happy was ever a problem for me)… but still.

For example, I remember a time in my marriage when I would be genuinely annoyed with my husband for the WAY he folded towels. “You’re 30+ years old, fortheloveofgod,” I would complain. “You can’t take two sides of a towel and fold them together? Seriously?!”

I controlled all aspects of organization and towel folding. I can’t tolerate incompetence in my closets.

Flash forward 4 years and 2 children later:The other morning, I opened the bathroom closet to get a towel and saw all of our towels (for the ENTIRE house, mind you… not just for this particular bathroom) jammed into and falling off of the shelves. My first thought upon seeing the disaster in the bathroom closet was, “awww… he put away the towels… how sweet!”

Lowered bar.

Happiness.

As a new mom, I constantly lowered the bar of expectations for events, daily activities… sleep. I did not get to take my kids home from the hospital on the day I was discharged. My kids were attached to wires and monitored for breathing.

As a mom to twin 3 year olds, I’m constantly lowering the bar for what we wear and expectations for family outings (“This may not go as planned” is still a mantra in our house).

I’m not saying I accept less from life.

I’m saying that I’m constantly redefining priorities. I don’t let things that don’t mater impact my happiness or stress level. (Ana, you want to wear black boy pants with a pink nightshirt to the store? Ok. Get in the car.)

There are things that are still important to me: Spending time with my girls; healthy, planned family meals; time with my husband; a clean kitchen (I can’t give this up)… you get the idea.

… I’m just noticing this bar can go really, really low. I mean... low.

So, I need to sacrifice the rest of what would have been an AMAZING blog ending to fold laundry.

Life moves by so fast. Sometimes you need to lower the bar, chase the fairies and embrace it all.

I think I need training wheels

We're lingering on the last few hours of January, so I'm officially not too late for my second part of my Christmas post. (I realize that it wasn't a cliff hanger, but surely you must have asked, "What about Keira?")

What about Keira, indeed.
We knew what we were going to get the girls for quite awhile. I believe the bikes were purchased a few months early. The bikes were for both girls, but we KNEW that Keira would be the happiest with them.

Keira is funny... she looks like the most dainty little princess on the planet. She is very thin, without muscle tone and she insists on pink skirts and some form of accessory (jewelry or princess shoes)... more to come on that later.


The funny thing is... she is our most adventurous child.
She loves to get dirty, play rough and ride bikes.
She has zero fear and 100% enthusiasm.
I know that one day Keira and Brad will plan massive biking trips to Mexico and the Four Corners.
Ana and I might stay home...

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. Here is Keira on her first big girl bike.

She is looking past me for the next adventure.
I think I'll need parenting training wheels to let her go.

Slam Dunk

I remember watching my parents on Christmas morning. They stumbled out of bed, questioned if Santa “really came”, and dragged on and on while making coffee. I used to ask them why they rarely got gifts. They said that “they didn’t need it… Christmas was for the children.”

I remember thinking that they were crazy.

And slow.
I mean… Santa came… COME ON, PEOPLE. MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!

On Christmas Eve, I started the girl’s night routine a little early. Brad had a gig on the north side of town, so it was just me and the girls to prep for Santa. We set out a plate of cookies and milk. We also set out a plate of carrots and celery for the reindeer (they do get awfully hungry, you know).

I put the girls down to bed and reviewed the whole “Santa is coming to the house tonight” story with them.

Around 9:30pm, my mom and I set out the gifts. At 10pm, I heard the sounds of drawers opening and closing.
When I went into the girl’s room, the light was on and Ana was getting dressed.

“Ana… baby… what are you doing?”

“Um… Santa came… and left presents!”

“No, baby. It is night time. You can’t get up until the sun comes up.”

Guess who got up when the sun came up?

The girls were both dressed and ready to go when I walked in their room. We looked at all of the gifts under the tree, looked at the stockings and discovered that Santa ate the cookies and drank the milk.

(*Interesting note, here. I sat down to eat the cookies and drink the milk when my mother asked, "Maura, honey... what are you doing? You don't really eat them - put them back in the bag! Pour the milk back into the container." Some remnant of childhood cried out in horror. WHAT? You never DRANK the MILK? I checked the glass! "Maura... I hate milk. I always poured it out."

Son-of-a...)

Back to Christmas morning...
The girls wandered in confusion for awhile as I got my coffee and got things together.

I told them to go wake up their Daddy. I followed up and watched them pounce on Brad and try to lift him with their hands.

"DADDY! Santa came! Get... UP. GET... UP. He left PRESENTS!" (If they knew to follow the sentence up with, "for the LOVE OF GOD" they would have.)

The morning was a nice pace of present opening with the family (Stacia's family, my mom and dad, Diane).

We started with stockings... which contained Ana's new brown monkey (Lightening Bolt Monkey).

Her happiness was amazing. She cuddled with it, held it up, introduced it to Brown Monkey.

It was at this moment when I got it.

I had slam dunked Christmas. I knew Ana would love the monkey. I bought the thing months ago.
But her face.

The absolute happiness.

I struggled to hold back tears.

I failed to hold back tears... although I hid them from everyone.

I was now the keeper of Christmas and all of the mystery of Santa.

I know why my parents didn't get gifts from Santa on Christmas morning.

The gift was seeing our happiness and wonder and excitement.

And the slam dunk.