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.

Chad

Today we said goodbye to the cat who set the bar of which all cats will be measured.
Chad passed away this morning.
It just happened so fast.

I can't- won't - go into details.
Even though he was about to turn 17, we didn't see this coming.
Chad was still taking down our 3 and 4 year old male cats on an annoyingly regular occasion.
I was completely not emotionally prepared for the loss of my baby Chad.

Things I will miss:
Chad greeting us at the door or going to the door to greet visitor
Chad smacking in my ear when he is happy
Chad's bottomless patience with the girls. He let them do anything to him and sought out their attention
Seeing Keira run to find Chad every day
Having Chad visit me and spend time with me as I got ready every day
The morning, afternoon and evening "Worship Chad" routine
Just everything about him

I will miss our Chad.
Many people will.
His first mommy was with me today (for that and placing Chad into my life, I will forever be in her debt). His first mommy works in the Astronaut Office. Chad was well known to quite a few astronauts, which made crew debriefs spin into chat about my "fat cat" Chad.
She is working on having a memorial for Chad flown on the next shuttle mission, which launches Monday.
That makes me so happy.
People die every day and my sweet kitty will have a memorial from space.
He really was special.


However, right now I sit here empty and broken.
Grateful for having had Chad in my life and bitter that he isn't tapping my shoulder while I sit at my computer desk. (Yes... he could reach that high)

I'm going to go upstairs and drown myself in thoughtless television and the comfort of Lt. Kije, who seems to understand more than cats let on. He has known this was coming for awhile. He rolled onto his back to let Chad tackle him a few weeks ago and lovingly cleaned Chad's face two nights ago.


Sweet dreams, Chad. I love you.

12 months later

A girl from my Mothers of Multiples group posted a note to our forum - one of her triplets had a seizure of unknown origin. My name was thrown out as a point of contact for neurologists, tests and someone who understands.
Remember when I told you that if Ana didn't have another seizure in a year that she was likely home free?
The year has past. *insert cheer here*

I'm sorry for my friend who now has the worries and the stress that follows any parent with a sick or hurt child. My heart breaks for her and a few other friends who are falling asleep to the sounds of their minds spinning out of control with stress for their child.

Brad and I talked about Sam's daughter and thought back to last year.
This time last year, we had dodged a hurricane, I broke my arm on a family vacation, Ana had a seizure and Brad was on disability. When you consider losing your home or a broken arm the least of your worries, you're probably having a bad year. Like my friend Will says, "if you have a neurologist on speed-dial, life is not going according to plan..."

I'm so thankful for every good day we have right now.
Every day is good.

Life is good when your biggest worry is telling your husband that "Twilight" is the next movie to arrive in your Netflix que.
Life is good when your biggest aggravation is waiting for the rain to stop long enough to install a swing set in the back yard.
Life is good when your worry about putting your little girls to sleep isn't if she'll be okay in the morning... the worry is if she'll make you read that Dr. Doolittle book AND the Teen Titans book... for the billionth time.

Life is good when you don't even care that it is raining at Seaworld, because you know that Shamu will get you anyways and you brought a change of clothes.


Life is good.

Catching up on adventures

The past few months have been filled with adventures.
We've visited Seaworld TWICE! Both trips were huge successes.
The girls are a great age for Seaworld. We spend most of our time (and money) feeding various animals.

On the first trip, we were greeted by Penguin characters at the door and were feeding dolphins within 10 minutes.

On the second trip, we fed birds. Keira LOVED it. Ana... not so much. Apparently, the birds do not like to be pet like a cat. They'll bite you as a reminder if you try. Ana was reminded twice.

The Seaworld trips were our first family trips by ourselves (not to a family member's house). We put the girls on a mattress between the beds in the hotel room. They stayed in their beds and were (for the most part) great.

It is SO easy to pack now that they're older. I didn't need to worry about extra baby items. They girls are grown kids. Such a life change.

We've really loved traveling as a family. We can't wait to go back to Seaworld and also on other family adventures. For now, though, we're all a little tired.

Wait and see

Did I ever tell you of the time that I brought Ana to the ER in the middle of the night?
Oh.
No?
Well, it wasn't a mosquito bite, Dr. Substitute.
This is what Ana looked like earlier in the day. When Brad woke her up to give her benadryl, her eye had swollen completely shut. Completely.

I called the on-call pediatrician, who told me to take Ana to the ER. She said they might admit her for IV antibiotics. Admit her? Really? Hmm...

I don't mess around with the eye.
I mean, I'm a photographer AND I've had a serious eye injury, so this is just one of those things I won't wait and see on...

I packed up my happy, chatty little girl ("It is very dark outside. Keira is sleeping. It is dark outside...") and brought her to the ER at 3am. Ana was happy with holding Brad's iPod and watching a movie.

We didn't wait too long before we got the diagnosis (periorbital collitis er something... I'm just a photographer, don't ask me for more info) and a prescription for pretty strong antibiotics.

It was our first ER visit for the girls.
Our first.
I hope that any future ER visits are as uneventful.
*shudder*
... but we'll wait and see.