A Message from Genevieve

Pictures from Yiayia's (that's "grandma" for the non-Greeks)

A Moment To Herself

I typically get up around 5:30 each morning (that is if the night before wasn't a brutal battle with hyped up pshyco babies) and leave for work between 6 and 6:15.  It's a relativly peaceful time in our house.  Gina's asleep (or faking asleep) and the girls are still passed out and satisfied from the 3am feeding.  I tiptoe around the house getting dressed and packing my lunch and gym bag all the while terrified that the heaviest of foot step or an over excited dog tail will cause an increase in the decible level that will "bring on the pain".  Yes, even if such a disaster should occur I could still walk out the door with a "hey, sorry honey but I gotta get to work" and leave the scene behind. ... of course that invites the ultimate payback when I get home when I hear "sorry honey, I gotta teach my yoga class".  So I'd prefer NOT to invite such a return.  Anyway, I make it a point on my way out to steal one last glance of the girls and make sure all is well.  Binkies are in if needed and blankets are tight, anything to add a few extra moments to Gina's sleep.  Today, I walked in to find Genevieve wide awake and staring at the ceiling.  I crept closer to make sure I was seeing it right.  She rolled her head to look at me, smiled and then went back to her private contemplation.  I stroked her face to sooth her, though she didn't need it.  She graciously smiled but again returned to her thoughts.  I put her pacifier in, tilted her body to the side and retucked her tightly.  She took a prolonged blink, but quickly readjusted herself to her previous position and continued on.  It was an amazing moment for me (although I feared what might happen as soon as I left the building) but it reaffirms in my mind that my daughter is this little person.  Not just the screaming, eating, pooping machine that some parents with post traumatic stress disorder have recounted to me, but this little mind in this little body who who aside from the freedom of mobility, the power of speach and the understanding of the complexities of a toilet is just like me.  Who screams when she needs to, eats when she's hungry but also takes time for hersef, to lay on her back, stare at the ceiling and drift away in her own private monolouge while the rest of the world is silent.

the Temperament Pendulum Swings

two dramatically different evenings this weekend remind me that
1) our children are not yet predictable
2) we are at the mercy of their moods
3) every minute with twins is bound to keep you on your toes.

Saturday night Gina's dad, Steve, was in town for a quick layover so we drove up to meet him for dinner at the Proud Bird.  First a little tangent - if you've never heard or experienced this restaurant and you have even the slightest interest in airplanes, you need to give this place a try.  Been around for 53  years, has over a dozen actual planes on display around the grounds and hundreds of old photos showing historic moments and people in the timeline of aeronautics lining the walls.  Very cool vibe, and the food is great to boot!  Now, back to the evening: the girls were flawless, perfectly behaved from the moment we sat until the moment we left.  Let me set the mood for you, when you walk into a room with twin infants you can feel the eyes of the guests and staff follow you across the room in a moment of "oh no, disaster has arrived".  Rightly so.  I've had many dinners, movies, plane flights and various other experiences ruined by the banshee wail of a newborn.  That high pitched squeal that lasts an eternity between breaths.  So you can imagine our pride when towards the end of the meal an older couple made a point to stop by our table and tell us how amazed they were at our girls.  The woman said she had been watching us all night (surely waiting for "the moment") and they were so impressed that our girls behaved themselves for such a long time and at such a young age.  Cue the proud parental glow.  Flash forward to tonight (Sunday).  24 hours removed from such a high we were reminded that the girls are infact infants, and that last night was not to be expected as a nightly occurrence.  We had dinner at Gina's parents house, and really for 9/10ths of the night they were their usual great selves.  But when the clock strikes 7. ... find shelter.  We hurredly swallowed what was in our mouths, packed up toys and strapped in babies, rushed out the door and endured the high pitched shrieks of Arianna's new found scream all the way home.   We were in such a rush we had call Karma's name a few lights away to verify she made it into the car.  Who were these children.  We checked the lables, they were ours.  So who did we take to dinner last night?  Lesson in parenthood learned.  The child you experienced last night is not the child you're gauranteed tonight.  Nor is the child from tonight gauranteed to you any other evening.  You may strike fortune again down the line and have the angel for a future engagement, or you could continually find yourself with the banshee. ... it's a crap shoot.  But what makes it all so worth while is that when the wailing is done and the jammies are on and the final feedeing has taken place, your angels come home to you every single night.  And when they look up at you with sleepy, happy eyes just before they drift off and you get a milky, drooly smile. ... your heart is lost.  And you head to bed quite certain that no one will ever find it again.

movie night. ... kind of

Tried watching Public Enemies last night after the girls went to bed.  Of course the gun shots (and there are a lot of them in the movie) we so loud that we had to watch it nearly on silent.  As a result, not really sure what happened aside from some guys in prison broke out, robbed a bank and Batman shot them with a big rifle.  The End.

there are bad nights and worse nights

It's to be expected that some nights are going to be worse than other nights when you're dealing with infant twins. ... of course when most of your nights are already pretty rough, the "bad" nights seem exceptionally rough.  Our girls really are terrific, the problem is that there are two of them.  So if Arianna has a good night, even a great night, there's no gaurantee that Genevieve will follow suit, and vis-a-versa.  Lately the nights start off great.  Both girls are down between 7:30 and 8:30 and they go a good 4-5 hours in a solid sleep.  Mom and Dad get to unwind a little, eat dinner with two hands - maybe even watch a TV show NOT on Nick Jr. (of course we've become very attached to Yo Gabba Gabba & Wow Wow Wubbzy so who's to say we won't crack open a bottle of wine and keep the channel where it is).  We're in bed by 8:30 / 9:00 with optimism at an all time high and the girls soundly asleep.  After the first stretch they wake up anytime between 11pm and 1am for their midnight snack.  Everything usually goes smoothly here and the girls are back down again, appearing sound asleep.  This is were the fantasy dies and reality sets in.  Inevitably one (if not both) of the girls begin to have battle of intestinal gases an hour or so after the midnight snack.  We can't say with any certainty if this is a genetic problem inherited from Dad or due to something they're getting from Mom's diet, but the epic battle that ensues is one for the ages.  Brow's crinkle, frowns extend, legs tuck in and a musical medly of toots and shrieks ensues.  If only one girl is locked in battle her sounds are sure to wake the other, who quickly takes up the harmony cry.  Mom and Dad rush in to sooth and rock back to sleep, only to see it start up again the moment they return to their own bed.  Sometimes an additional snack will settle things down, of course this re-sets their eating pattern for the night and then they expect comfort food every hour or two, instead of every 4 to 5.  This also tends to throw off our plans of having them on the same schedule, which means if they're up every two hours, but there's an hour delay between each, then we're up every hour on the hour.  The night will typically end just before my alarm goes off with one or both girls snuggled happily in between Gina and me in our already space deprived Queen bed.  I've devised a method of wrapping a sheet around me and tucking it back in under me so that, using my own wieght, I can hang off the bed in something resembling a hammock.  Of course, Karma does not trust this method as it hangs me perilously abover her bed and she spends the next hour or so glancing warily at me waiting for the inevitable fall to crush her.  The last few nights we've wondered whether we should try the "cry it out" method, where the child is allowed to cry themselves back to sleep.  We're not sold on this idea, but we decided to try it last night (this morning) with Genevieve, who started to whimper around 3:30 - only 45 minutes after having a full feeding.  We brought the still silent Arianna to bed with us and we let Genevieve whine for an hour or so before we finally decided we could take no more, only to find that she was asleep.  So how can you let a child cry themselves to sleep if they are already there. ... and still crying.  Do we let her cry herself awake then?  Needless to say I needed all 24 ounces of esspresso this morning that would fit into my reusable water bottle. ... and even that is proving not enough.

we're back

OK, so we're making a 2nd attempt at this blogging thing.  We're now on blogspot as opposed to trying to continually update our own website everytime we have something to say, because let's face it - we're not exactly overwhelmed with free time these days.  In fact, we've almost forgotten the defenition of freetime.  So, we'll do our best to keep you updated on our lives, our successess and our moments of learning from now on.  Please be understanding, though, if the blogs are short or make no sense.  In a life ruled by feeding schedules, poopy diapers and projectile vomit, bloging is a distant concern.