The House of Hilbert

Another birthday post?  Oh, yes.
Apparently, Didi's birthday post was a hit and I couldn't think of a single thing to send my dad... so...
Happy Birthday, Dad!

Bill Hilbert - 1966

In all seriousness, I'm going to see him in a few weeks...So, this post will have to cover me until then...

Oh, the things I know about my dad.
For those of you who know me, these things should be another piece of the puzzle:

Things I know about Bill:

• He doesn't call me by name, usually.  To Dad, I'm either Grace, Gracie or Duckie.
• My father's isn't a tall man... he is rather short, but his voice and presence make him seem like a giant.
• Dad looks like a cross between Sean Connery and Clint Eastwood.

Mom and Dad... not Clint/Sean-like here

• He taught me how to pour drinks at a young age (Hey - we're Irish, gimme a break).  He was perplexed that his request for 2 fingers of scotch was pathetic, until he remembered that my fingers were so small.  He later would request 3 fingers of scotch by holding up 3 fingers sideways.  No other words were necessary.
• My dad made all of the kids work in the house.  Really work.  We replaced the roof, added rooms, refinished cabinets and every winter we would carry 3 cords of wood behind the garage.  It was a real pisser when I was the last kid left in the house.  3 cords of wood is a lot for a 14 year old girl.

Dad starting child labor with Stacia, age 2

• My father had an antique wheel barrel that dates back 125 years.  It has a metal wheel.  It is really awesome.  It is not so awesome when you're transferring 3 cords of wood.
• Pneumatic tires were brought to America in 1892. (*Dad... really?  You couldn't BUY A NEW WHEELBARROW?)
• My Dad knows everyone in every store he has ever shopped in.  In Ireland, it is called the craic.  He has the ability to have a conversation with anyone.  I think I inherited this.  I can't help myself.

Dad - Probably telling a story

• My dad was once so bored in the military that he had a mustache growing competition with his friends.

Dad is on left... Yes, that is a real mustache.  We're so proud.

• Dad once chased me around a Christian bookstore with a cross and made it sizzle on my forehead.
• During a different shopping trip, my dad once walked around the Christian bookstore muttering Jewish phrases.
• I no longer go to Christian bookstores.
• When I was 13, my Dad woke me up at 3 am to take me to breakfast and to watch the sun rise on Galveston Island.  We later rode horses on the beach.  
• My dad likes to do things like make shark meat sandwiches and watch a Jaws marathon.
• My father forced us to watch "This Old House" and eat tuna sandwiches every Sunday.  I can do great impersonations of Bob Villa and... Steve.  No one likes Steve.  No, Steve... you can't try it.
• We have Bob Villa's autograph.
• I inherited my Dad's love of reading.

Dad holding Ana and Keira

• Dad woke me up every Saturday by playing the 1812 overture as loud as our stereo would allow.  
• I played a practical joke on my Dad by having my college graduation ring sent COD to his house and didn't tell him about it.  He thought it was funny enough and paid the remaining $479 dollar balance.  I think he was proud of me for playing the joke.
• My Dad played a CD of rain and thunderstorms during a rain shower.
• My Dad's favorite speech to all of his children starts with "This is the house of Hilbert..."  It was a speech all of us heard a thousand times.  He reminded us that family is the most important thing and that we would always have each other.

Dad and Mom with the grandchildren.  The House of Hilbert lives on.

• We do.

I love you, Daddy.
I have your present on it's way to your house.
COD.
You'll love it.

Happy Birthday, Didi!

Diane, Stacia, Billy.  Diane looks... concerned.

This is what I know about my sister Diane:

• It is her birthday today.  This is her present.  Yeah, not so good to be my sister this year, huh?  Don't worry...Christmas is going to rock.  I bust arse on that.  Usually.  Sometimes.
• She bugs me a lot about updating my blog.  (Your birthday wish has come true, Didi.)
• I call her Didi.
• She was not impressed when I came into this world when she was 5 1/2 years old.  In fact, even when I was older I would bug my mom into FORCING HER to take me to the mall.  She hated it.

Diane, Stacia and wee little me

• She talked me into keeping her smelly guinea-pig in my room when I was 6.
• Didi and I started spending most of our time together when she hit college, where she: tried to get me electrocuted and mauled by giant rabbits in one go; introduced me to crappy college beer; taught me how to drive a standard; brought me to bars; let me march in her place with the Rice Mob.  Good times.

• She has an infectious laugh.  If she really gets going, she stops breathing all together and turns bright red.
• She also turns red if you poke at her or pretend to poke at her.  She hates this.  I would not recommend it.
• Didi can beat teen-age boys (and anyone else) in Wii boxing.  While intoxicated.  

• She once brewed her own beer.  It is still the only beer I truly enjoyed in my life.
• She makes magnificent braided bread and can cook the pants off of anyone I know.
• Left to her own devices, she will eat only carbs to sustain herself.  And mustard.  
• Didi always seems to own crazy, tiny dogs that obsess over her. 

• Her house is impeccably decorated.  She inherited this from my mom.  I did not.
• She is Auntie to 2 sets of twins and one very crafty, funny college boy.
• She has embraced being the "funny" Auntie that fills them with sugar and makes "snowman poopy" jokes.  It's a hit.
• Her favorite joke starts, "Why don't sharks walk on land?..."
• Her most annoying habit is eating popcorn... each piece of popcorn... in multiple, open mouthed, teethy, crunchy, annoying effing bites.  She loves popcorn.  She'll eat a bucket in a theater... just to bug me.
• She likes to bug me.
• She has more degrees than I can count... even from ivy-league universities. It's impressive.
• I never tell her I love her enough.
• I love her.

(Both of my sisters - Diane and Stacia)

Happy Birthday, Didi!

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.