Motorcycles & vaginas

I would never give anyone motorcyle advice.

I don't own a motorcycle, nor have I ever driven one.  I have, however, ridden on a few.

But having ridden shotgun (does this apply to riding passenger on motorcyles too?) a time or two does not make me an expert.   If I started spouting out my opinion on how to take care of your motorcycle, you would tell me to shut-the-front-door.  And you'd have every right, because unless I owned a motorcycle myself, I really can't know what I'm talking about.

So, to all the men out there, please keep your opinions on child birth to yourself.  You do not have a vagina.  Sure, you may have ridden one a time or two, but until you actually have one, you really have no idea.

A man I know posted a link to an article about the pros and cons of using epidurals during child birth.  He's a nice guy, and I know his intentions weren't malicious (his wife is pregnant).  But I just couldn't help myself to reply "So I take it when you get pregnant, you will not use an epidural."  Because c'mon guy, how can you truly have an opinion on natural child birth vs. medicated child birth if you NEVER HAVE TO GO THROUGH CHILD BIRTH!

Heck, I know quite a few women who have said they wouldn't use drugs when they gave birth, but once they were a few centimeters dilated and the waves of contractions were coming right on top of each other after hours and hours of labor, they changed their tune.  I just don't think anyone, man or woman, knows what they'll do until they get there.

And honestly, I don't even have much opinion on the subject myself.  Yes, I have a vagina, but I had one pregnancy and my doctor started preparing me for my planned c-section right about the same time I found out I was having twins.  To me, my opinion is: You know your pain threshold.  You know whether you like to tough out sicknesses or take the meds.  You know YOUR body.  If you want the epidural, get the freaking epidural.  If you'd rather go au natural, then bonne chance ma soeur. À chacun son goût.

But remember this, you don't get a medal for not using drugs.  At the end of it all, you just get a baby, just like every other women...vaginal or c-section, epidural or sans epidural...the result is the same.  Do what you need to do to get that baby out safely and into your arms.  And let other mothers worry about their own vaginas.

Peace.

The F-Word

Dedicated to the women of the world that think "the real 'F' word is formula":

Like many expectant moms, I read plenty about how to best care for my babies. And in my reading and  research, I decided that breast was best and that because of that I would be nursing my twins for at least the first year of their life (I'd play it by ear from there...).

I ordered an EZ-2-Nurse pillow, specifically designed for nursing twins, a breast pump, and 0 bottles.  We moved to a rental house less than 1 mile from my office, so I could nurse after going back to work.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were born 35 w 2 d.  So they were a little early, but not much (36 weeks is considered full term for twins).  They weighed 5 lb 13 oz and 5 lb 7 oz.

The first thing the hospital staff did when the boys were born was put in a feeding tube through their nose.  Apparently this was standard for babies this small.  Their first feeding was formula.  I actually was kind of pissed that they didn't consult me for any of this.  But the nurses kept insisting on the importance of bringing up their body weight.

Before I ever put the babies to breast, I used a pump.  I squeezed out the most minuscule amount of colostrum.  This went straight into their feeding tubes.

The nurses literally weighed the boys with a super scale before and after each attempt to nurse, and if they didn't gain enough ounces, they would then feed them through the nose tube.  (No sucking necessary.)

A friend of mine recently had a premature baby here at the hospital where we live now and instead of a nose tube, they made the baby suck on her finger while she slowly fed through a syringe on the side...teaching the baby he had to suck to get a full belly.  I wish we'd done that with my boys.  Because I feel like the nose tube made them lazy!  They didn't need to suck hard to get a full belly, so why bother working so hard at breast time if afterwards you'd get rewarded anyway?  (By the way, the staff is coming off very unsupportive, but this isn't true.  They all cheered me on at my insistence to nurse. They wanted me to succeed, but they also had a job to make sure the boys were as well taken care of medically as possible.)

I held out not giving my boys a bottle for 11 days!!

The doctor wouldn't sent them home from the hospital until they were over 6 lbs and feeding on their own (no nose tube).  And after 11 days of traveling back and forth to the hospital every day...I finally broke down and gave them bottles, because I just wanted to bring them home!  # 1 I'd been in that hospital for 12 weeks on strict medically prescribed bedrest.  #2 the hospital was a 30 min drive from our house, so every day I was getting up and commuting (even though I wasn't supposed to drive after my c-section) to the hospital in time to be there for the 7:30 am feeding.  Then I would pump.  Then take a nap in a room with one of the boys on my chest doing Kangaroo care.  Then feed. Then pump. Then nap with the other baby.  Then feed. Then pump. Then nap. All day. When Superman got off work, he'd meet me up at the hospital for dinner.  We'd stay there until the boys' 9:30 feeding and then drive home for the night.  (I wanted to stay at the hospital and try feeding through the night too, but the nurses insisted I needed rest.  They said that the stress and exhaustion might be part of the problem with my milk supply.)  After almost two weeks of this, I broke down and said "take out the feeding tube and just give them a bottle."

When we left that day, I took one of the hospital grade pumps home with me. If I couldn't get the boys to latch, I'd at least pump and feed them my own milk.  Heck, I could do that for at least 6 months right?

We also took home a supplemental nursing system to use with it, because I was trying to get the boys to suck at the breast to encourage production...but it was not practical for me being at home all alone with twins and I just couldn't get it to work the way it was supposed to.

As I've explained before, my supply was pitiful. My milk never fully came in. I never (ever) had "let down".  I drank Mother's Milk tea. I took Fenugeek supplements. I drank liters and liters of water. I did kangaroo care. I pumped every 2 hours, on the dot. But still I barely made enough to feed one baby, let alone two.

Then, after 8 weeks of pumping and supplementing with formula (or really I should say after 8 weeks of feeding formula and supplementing with breast milk), my supply finally gave up.  And so did I.

So I'm here to say "Don't you dare compare formula to a four-letter word!"  Formula is what kept my babies from starving when my breasts didn't do as nature intended.  Would I have preferred to feed my children 100% breastmilk, sure I would have. Because as one wise mother has said: "Breast is best, but formula isn’t toxic. In fact, its pretty damn good."

Christmas Under Attack

So, apparently GOP nominee-wannabe Rick Perry says that “our kids can’t openly celebrate Christmas or pray in school.”

I agree that political correctness can sometimes be taken ridiculously far.  But, c'mon people, do you really believe the "majority" of Americans really feeling persecuted on this one?  I was a student too long ago to give my personal experience as a student, but I was just a teacher in public schools a few years ago, and we still had Christmas in school (I loved our ugly Christmas sweater contests!)

Heck, I was visiting an elementary school earlier this week and they had a write a "letter to Santa" bulletin board. And I live in a very liberal college town with a lot of international students. If Christmas is still in OUR schools...I have a feeling it's not the epidemic Rick Perry wants you to think it is.

"No prayer in school" does not mean prayer in school is illegal (you will not get sent to jail, or even detention for praying in school), it just means no organized prayer in school.  No mandated prayer in  school. No one (teacher, principal, coach, etc) can force anyone to pray, thereby also pressing their personal religious beliefs on a child. Your child.  Think about it...I have a colleague who is Muslim and is a social studies teacher at a local middle school. What do you think most Christians would do if SHE led a prayer in her class?! They'd freak the fuck out! Freak. The. FUCK. Out. They'd be picketing. Rioting. No, burning the freaking school down.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.  A little.

But most Christians I know would be really upset about that. To say the least.

Every school, every morning during announcements (at least every school I've ever attended or taught at or visited for any other reason) observes a moment of silence. This is a moment (about a minute or so) set aside for both the students and staff to take a moment to relax, be calm, and reflect on their coming day. An opportunity for those who feel so inclined to say a prayer. And they can start it for themselves as "Dear God" "Our Heavenly Father" "My Creator" or "Dear Lord baby Jesus", or however else they personally feel compelled to pray. Because religion is, and should always be, a personal choice. A BELIEF if you will.

I attend and am a member of a Christian church. But occasionally, we attend other churches, most commonly my in-law's church. And even though both of our churches are Christian, I get uncomfortable during parts of their service and many of their prayers, because our churches just have such different interpretations of things. I often will block out what is being prayed and say my own, different, silent prayer in my head. One that fits my beliefs.

I can almost hear it now "well, children who believe differently or don't want to pray could do the same thing." But here is a huge difference: #1 I am choosing to be sitting in that church. No one forces me to go, not even my in-laws. Children do not have a choice to go to school. #2 I am a grown adult with formed beliefs, and those people in the pulpit of my in-laws church are not my role models or mentors or authority figures.  I can easily distinguish between what they tell me and what I personally believe.  Children are typically much more easily influenced than that.  And bottom line is, if my children are praying, I want them to pray prayers that are meaningful to them and their beliefs, not their teachers, or classmates, or some government official somewhere hundreds of miles from their classroom.

Maybe I'm too sensitive

Maybe I'm too sensitive, but man I get tired of all of the breast-feeding nazis out there.  Every day I feel like I see something about how my children are going to be dumber, fatter, sicker, slower, uglier, and more cancer ridden because they were formula fed.  Actually, I'm just surprised they didn't die from SIDS since I was so uncaring enough not to breast feed them until they were old enough to chew filet mignon.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.  A little.

But c'mon you breast feeding proponents.  Enough already.  We get it.  Breast is best.

Really, do you think there is a person out there that still doesn't understand that breast milk is the optimum choice for a baby's nutrition?  That it is biologically engineered to feed that baby.  We get it.  We all get it.

Do you think people who smoke really don't know it will cause lung cancer?

People who don't breastfeed don't not do it because they don't understand those facts...  They don't do it because their milk doesn't come in, or the baby doesn't latch right, or how about this: they just don't want to.

I have a good friend who didn't breast feed because she just thought it sounded gross.  She is very private about her body and her personal parts and didn't want a) a baby sucking on it or b) to have to breastfeed in public etc.  So she chose to bottle feed with formula.  She didn't put her baby to the breast even once.  Not even to try.  Immediately after labor she began working to dry up her swollen breasts.

Meanwhile, my milk never fully came in.  Try as I might.  I drank Mother's Milk tea.  I took Fenugeek supplements.  I drank liters and liters of water.  I did kangaroo care.  I pumped every 2 hours, on the dot.  I barely made enough to feed one baby, let alone two.  I wanted to breast feed so bad it hurt.  Literally.

I had planned to do it for a year.  We even moved within a mile of my work so that I could go home to nurse once I went back to work.  

But my children would have starved if it hadn't been for formula.  In more ways than one.  Because not only did my milk never fully come in (I never once had "let down" or "engorgement"), but also, my boys never learned to latch on.  Lactation consultant after lactation consultant, even one that specialized in preemies, couldn't help me get those boys to successfully hook up to the tap.

But I was so adamant to give my boys "the best" that I kept trying.  I was like the Little Engine That Could trying so hard to climb that mountain.  Being weighed down by weak breasts, lazy feeding babies,  post-bedrest recovery, and post-partum feelings of failure because I couldn't do this simple thing that nature had designed for my body to do.

After weeks and weeks of torturing myself...  pumping every 2-3 hours, losing sleep, crying rivers of tears each time my babies wouldn't latch or I pumped just 2 ounces, I finally considered giving up.  Superman was beyond relieved when I mentioned it.  He had been wanting me to stop trying weeks ago, but knew he couldn't suggest it.

I called a cousin of mine who I knew had gone through the same thing and eventually given up.  She's a great mom to two beautiful healthy kids.  She had quit after her breasts had failed her with her son, and had such a bad experience that she decided not to try with her daughter.  After several phone calls and hours of consoling, I knew she was right when she told me that I wasn't a bad mother for wanting to quit, that in fact, I would become a better mother after quitting because I would be able to enjoy my babies more.  Feeding time would become joyful, rather than dreaded.  I would hold my babies and smile and laugh while they ate, instead of live in constant anxiety and sadness each time feeding didn't go well.

The final straw was the morning I had pumped and pumped for 40 minutes and gotten less than an ounce.  While cleaning my pump, I accidentally spilled my milk.  And oh did I cry over spilled milk.  I had a full blown hysterical collapse.  My milk was more precious than gold to me at that point.  I was working so hard to produce even the slightest drops for my pre-mature infants...and now it was just a tiny whitish puddle on my kitchen floor.

As I was sitting on the floor sobbing and wiping my eyes, I knew.  My phone calls to my cousin weren't about looking for advice.  They were about looking for permission.  Asking permission from someone I knew to be a good mom that it was okay to quit.  I wanted to quit.

So I did.

I called the hospital and arranged for them to come get my rented hospital grade pump.

Then I called my husband and asked him to bring me home a bottle of wine.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were 8 weeks old.

And guess what?  They didn't didn't die.  Niether did my friend's who chose not to try.  They aren't dumber, fatter, sicker, slower, or uglier than my breast fed friends' kids.  In fact, all three of the kids are incredibly bright, healthy, perfect size for their ages, and good-looking four year olds.  And we are both great moms, if I may say so myself.  We both make the best choices possible for our kids.  We put our childrens' health and happiness first.

I wonder if all of the breast-feeding propaganda bothers her like it does me.  Maybe I'm overly sensitive because I did try so hard and still failed.  To me, even four years later, it still feels like having salt rubbed over my wounds.  Like I'm being judged by people who don't even know me or my story.  Like I'm being marked as a bad mom by some imaginary Scarlett F.

It's funny, because I don't feel this way about my c-section.  Not in the least.  Would I have preferred a traditional delivery?  Sure.  But once my doctor said the c-section would be best having twins, I trusted her, accepted it, and moved on.

I don't know if it's because the c-sections vs. vaginal delivery rhetoric isn't as prevalent, or if I just don't notice it because I've never had one ounce of remorse, regret, or guilt, like I have known some other c-section mothers to have.  My babies needed to be born, and my doctor and I made an educated decision on the safest way to bring them into the world.  End of story.

Maybe it's because I feel like with my c-section I was in control.  I made the ultimate decision.  Where with the breast feeding, it seems like the decision was made for me (by my body).

So if you are a breast-feeding mommy.  Good for you!  I hope you feel lucky and blessed that you are being honored with the ability to provide and bond with your baby this way.  And if you are a struggling breast-feeding mommy, know that you have to follow your heart.  Maybe the answer is to stick with it and it will get better, but if you need to stop, it will be okay too.  I promise there are many more factors to having great kids than whether or not you breast feed.  And if you chose not to breast feed, while I may not understand it, I can respect that it is your choice.  And I'm sure your children will turn out great too.  'Cause like Superman always says "Some of my favorite people in the world were formula fed babies."  (That would be him and me. :)

Happy Father's Day Superman

I recently posted this article about Fathers on my facebook page, commenting how I'm so glad that both Superman and my own father are the good kind of fathers.  The kind that have made being active with their kids a priority in their lives.  A father who is actually an equal parent and an equal spouse, doing housework and laundry because it is a household responsibility, not claiming it's woman's work.  (On the same token, I have been known to roll up my sleeves and mow the lawn and take out the trash and grab my tool box to fix a faulty light switch or replace a toilet, because it's not men's work.)

I thought: How sad that this needs to be written in 2011.  It seems like such a 1950s idea of woman as caretaker and man as standoffish provider.  But sadly, I do personally know couples where the mother does do it all while the father works.  And when he comes home he needs his "me time" to unwind from working.  And then spends hours and hours of golfing on the weekends.  For some of them it works (and good for them, who am I to judge), but for most of them...it doesn't.  The women feel over burdened and unappreciated.  And they are sad to see their children who idolize their daddies, getting so little of his time or attention.  And they fume when the absentee fathers suggest having "just one more" baby.  One of my friends even secretly had her tubes tied during her c-section, and as far as I know STILL hasn't told her husband, because he wanted more kids and she didn't.  And some of these women eventually became so tired of being single mothers that they eventually left their husbands to be actual single mothers.

I wouldn't say that I'm lucky Superman turned out to be a good dad, because I always knew he would be.  In fact, that is part of why I fell in love with him.  Part of why I knew I wanted to marry him. We met when we were both working for a non-profit organization that provided care and job opportunities for adults with physical and mental disabilities.  Watching the care, patience, and compassion he had for a population most people are afraid of, I could see the kind of father he would one day be.  And throughout our dating, as I got to know him better and better, I just became more sure of this.

Because remember ladies, we don't live in a patriarchal society with archaic arranged marriages.  We CHOOSE our mates.  We CHOOSE who we want to procreate with.  Who we want to share our genes with and our lives.

In fact, when I first met Superman, I was actually dating someone else.  This guy was fun, funny, interesting, and he adored me (who wouldn't love that?).  I knew he wanted to marry me.  I knew he wanted to have kids with me.  But the thing was, as fun as he was to date...I knew he was not the guy I wanted to be the father of my children.  First of all, he had a son.  And honestly, as much as I liked the guy, I thought he was a pretty lousy father.  True, there are some other factors why I knew he wasn't the one that I won't go into here, but the bottom line was even without any of those other factors, seeing him father his son, I knew I would not be having kids with him.

But I guess maybe I was lucky.

Lucky that Superman didn't change. Some women I know have married men who maybe they thought would be great dads, but somewhere along the line they made their careers a priority over parenting.

Lucky that he turned out to be an even better dad than I ever hope or imagined.

When I found out I was pregnant, we immediately started discussing whether or not we could afford for one of us to stay home.  Even from the beginning, it wasn't how I would stay home.  It was which one of us.  Prior to getting pregnant, we had never discussed how to handle child care.  Which in hindsight was a mistake.  However, as luck would have it we both were in 100% agreeance that we didn't want to put a baby in daycare, and that we would find a way to make sure that, at least for the first year, one of us would stay home to raise it.

Because we had just moved to a new state for my job, and Superman didn't even have a full time job yet (did I mention the pregnancy was unplanned?), he volunteered to stay home.

Then we found out we were having twins.

He didn't bat an eye.  In fact, once he found out we were having twin boys, he seemed pretty excited for his "guy time".

After one year, we both agreed that the arrangement was working so well that he would go ahead and stay home another year.  At the end of year two, we decided to go for another!  For three years, he was the primary caregiver, before we decided it was time for the boys to head to pre-school, and for Superman to re-enter the outside-of-home-workforce again.  I was both happy (for the boys starting a new chapter of their lives and for Superman getting a chance to work among peers again) and sad (because for three years I never had to worry about my children's care and happiness).

But you would not believe how many comments I heard from other women (mothers and non-mothers) saying "I would never let anyone else raise my children".  Excuse me?  I didn't drop them off with some stranger, they were at home with their father.  What makes you think that you have more of a right to raise your children than he does?  What makes you think you'd even be better at it?

Honestly, are there things I probably would have done differently (like more scheduled activities and taking the kids on playdates), but I say probably because I realize some things are easier said than done.  What I think I would have done and what I actually would have done might be two wholly different things...

But I can tell you what they did learn from their daddy that they most likely wouldn't have learned from me (at least not as well):

Patience.  I am much more hot-headed and quick to temper than my calm-demeanored husband; I love that they seem to have acquired his personality.  After all, if I hadn't thought he was pretty great, I wouldn't have married him.

A love for music.  Sure, I love to sing along with the radio, but by three years old, my boys already knew how to keep a beat on drums and hold a guitar the right way as they lip synced to old school 80s rock songs, thanks to hours and hours of home jam sessions.  I swear to you they can tell the difference between Girls, Girls, Girls, Crazy Train, I Love Rock n' Roll, and Jump by just the first two bars of the song.

A love for the outdoors.  Even on the hottest of days, when I would have hidden away in the security of the air conditioning, Superman would venture outside with the boys and find something fun to do.  Whether it was splashing around in the wading pool, looking for bugs, or just taking a short walk.

How to be active.  Superman is an avid runner, and loves being active.  He would take the boys on really long walks, all around our little town.  Often walking them up to my work to visit me during the day.  Now 4 years old, Thing 1 and Thing 2 really show the benefits of being raised by someone so active.  (Not to say that I'm a lazy-ass, but let's just say I find doing a craft project more fun than taking a 5 mile walk pushing a double stroller.)

I could go on.  But, my point is...yes, we are different parents.  But neither one of us is the inherently better parent based on whether we sit or stand when we pee.  We both have our strengths and our weaknesses.  And I like to think that as co-parents we compliment one another well and have raised two amazingly awesome kids because of it.

I think it is time to stop accepting that fathers are some kind of second rate parents.  Quit describing a dad spending time with his kids as "babysitting" or "giving mom a break", he is just doing what he is supposed to be doing...being a parent!  Quit having such low expectations of what a father looks like.  EXPECT a father to be a parent.  A real parent.

And don't accept this "I work hard all day" as an excuse for not parenting nonsense.  Guess what?  For three years I was the working parent with the 9-5 job, yet I somehow managed to come home, change my clothes, and go play with my kids...and my husband (because that is important too).  In fact, everyday I would make sure to 1. notice and give Superman a compliment about the house, 2. give him a rest from the kids (stay-at-homes need this "me time" much more than working parents I think), 3. cook dinner, and we alternated days for who gave the evening bath.  Was it tiring?  Of course.  But who ever said being a parent would be easy?

I'm happy to say that its summertime again, and school is out.  Which means my husband has left his Clark Kent job as high school teacher to resume his role of Superman stay-at-home-dad.  So, for the next 2.5 months, I can rest easing knowing Thing 1 and Thing 2 will be having the summer fun of their lives!

And honestly, I'm pretty jealous.  Because who wouldn't want to spend all day hanging out with this guy --->?

The Economics of Parenting Twins

I just read a funny and accurate blog on the economics of having twins: Freakonomics

I've been meaning for a while to write a blog on "What parents expecting twins really need".  For instance, two high chairs YES, two Jumperoos NO.  It's on my things to blog about list, but I just haven't gotten around to writing it.

This guy succinctly mentions issues of the costs of having twins.  (Hint: It's not two for the price of one!)  Here are my quick comments on his article.

Feedings.  Superman and I split midnight feedings.  We couldn't just take turns like other bottle feeding parents.  Two babies equals two constantly sleep deprived parents.  And actually, I'd like to point out that I had it worse than him, because as soon as the feeding was over, we changed their diapers and put them back in their crib, then he went back to sleep.  I got to stay up for another 30 minutes of pumping and 15 minutes of clean up from said pumping.

P.S. When you are sleep walking during pumping, and you accidentally spill that milk that you are working so darn hard to make...you bring new meaning to the phrase cry like a baby.  I think Superman thought I'd fatally wounded myself.  And in a way, I felt like I had.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 at 3 weeks old in
second-hand bouncy seats from my cousin 

Infancy Costs. Most people have one baby at a time.  Which means they have one crib that is used for multiple children at different times.  But we had to get two of almost everything, since there were no hand me downs to be passed on.  The worst was the cost of buying things that you knew they'd only use for a few months and then outgrow.  We loved thrift stores and took any hand-me downs people would give us.  I didn't care if their high chairs matched, as long as they were cheap and/or free!

We were so lucky that I had a cousin who had twin boys two years before us.  They passed on a ton of stuff and I couldn't have been happier!  We "paid it forward" by passing on a ton of stuff as well.

P.S. People who won't take hand me downs for gently used items that the baby will outgrow in two seconds are freaking stupid!

P.P.S. I want to smack people who already have a blue high chair for their son and then go get a pink one when they have a girl. Hint: that baby doesn't freaking care what color their high chair is!  Use the dang-on blue high chair and put that extra money into their college account!!  Sheesh!

Diapers.  We chose to do cloth diapers for several reasons.  1. It is better for the environment.  2.  They are healthier for the kids (have you ever seen the toxic crap that spills out of a diaper that explodes when it gets too saturated?!)  3.  They are supposed to make potty training easier, since the kids feel more uncomfortable than disposables that are super absorbent.  And 4. They are cheaper.  Except, again, most people buy their $300 worth of Fuzzy Bunz in a few different sizes and that lasts them through as many kids as they have.  We on the other hand, had to buy twice the amount of diapers.  So in the end, I'm not sure just how much money we really saved.  I'm sure we saved some, but not as much as we would have if we'd used $300 for two different babies at staggered times.

Child care costs.  Babies cost more than toddlers.  Diapered toddlers cost more than potty trained toddlers.  People say "wow, it was great you could afford for Superman to stay home with the boys for three years."  The truth is, two babies in child care would have eaten up almost all of Superman's teacher salary.  He would have basically been working to pay someone else to take care of our kids.  As it is, we pay $1200-1500 a month (depending on whether it is 4 weeks or 5 weeks) to have two potty trained kids in preschool now.  People gasp when they hear that and say "Wow, I pay half that."  Duh, you have half the kids in school as us.

The good news: once they start kindergarten in a year, we will feel rich!  In the end, we end up paying the same.  The difference is we have to do a more condensed version, where other people get to spread theirs out a bit.

Sleep.  Again, thanks to the awesomeness of having a cousin pave the way for us in the world of parenting twins, we knew from day one the importance of getting them on a schedule.  I really don't know why anyone would be against sleep training.  Rested parents are happy parents.  Happy parents equal happy babies.  It's common sense to me.  But I read so many negative opinions about methods like Ferber and Babywise (both of which we used with great success!).  My boys were sleep trained as babies and are STILL amazing sleepers.  I read peoples' Facebook posts about their kids getting up at 5 am, even on weekends, and I thank my stars that my boys would sleep in until 9 am everyday if we'd let them (and on weekends we do!).  My only problem with their sleep is getting them up early enough in the morning.  Sometimes I feel like I have teenagers already!

And not only do they sleep late, but they go to bed great.  We have followed the rules of following schedules and being consistent.  So they know that bedtime is 8 pm.  There is no fighting, crying, or having to do super nanny methods to keep them in their beds.  It's 8 pm, they go to bed.  Boom.  We read them a few books, turn off all but one reading light, and they read quietly in bed until they fall asleep.  99% of the time, this is our night time routine.  I can't imagine doing it those other ways... how exhausting.

Built in playmate.  This one is huge.  I can say that this is by far the #1 reason why I'm glad we had twins.  I can remember even when they were 9 months old, seeing how much easier it was with two for keeping them entertained.  I'd put one in the Jumperoo and one in the exersaucer and set them facing one another while I did dishes and made dinner.  They'd laugh and entertain one another the whole time.  Meanwhile my friends with just one baby would complain about how hard it was to get anything done, because their baby wanted their attention.

I also think this is why we were successful at keeping them away from tv for almost two years.  If we'd had just one baby, I'm sure we would have given in and used the digital babysitter much much sooner than we did.

College.  Honestly, this is like the child care issue.  Sure, it's gonna suck to have two kids going in to school at the same time.  However, once it is done, it will be done.  And unlike with the surprise of having twins, we have 18 years to get ready for that expense.  And honestly, if we end up not having enough to send them...there are always school loans.  Hey, if it was good enough for me...

I take that back.  I freaking despise my school loans.  We'd better have saved enough by then!

In Summary.  All of you people who say "Ah, I always wanted twins."  Bet you didn't think about all of this, did ya?  You just thought about the cute factor of having two itty bitty babies dressed in the same outfit.  The truth is, there are definitely draw backs.

But then again, I only had to be pregnant once.  Only had to go through one delivery.  Only had to go through breastfeeding once.  Bottles once.  Night feedings once.  Diapers once.  Potty training once.

And once the boys outgrow equipment, clothes, toys, etc, there is no need to store them in the basement or attic for the next one.  We have a garage sale, or donate them to a friend or organization.  It's Hasta La Vista Baby!

Get them on a schedule!

Two more common questions we got a lot when the boys were babies: "How do you do it?" and "When one cries, does he wake the other?"

My answer might not be popular among some types of parents, in fact it might be considered down right terrible, but I don't care...it worked for us.  The answer: Babywise.

When I was pregnant, my cousin's wife gave us a book that I think saved our life and probably our marriage:  On Becoming Babywise.  The method, in short, is half scheduling and half feeding on demand, mixed with a method of training the babies to sleep, similar to the Ferber method.

Demand feeding mothers think that you absolutely have to feed the baby every time it's hungry, even if it is every hour on the hour.

Schedulers, on the other hand, say you firmly dictate when the baby is fed.

Babywise uses a window method.  For instance, a six week old baby might have a window of 2-3 hours.  Which means that from the time the baby starts eating, you can feed it again the next time it's hungry as long as it's been at least two hours.  If three hours passes and it hasn't awoken to eat, you go ahead and wake it to feed it.  The time of the window depends on age (although they do allow for other factors, such as weight and prematurity).

Also, you always put the baby down awake, so that it learns to put itself to sleep.  This means, you don't put the baby down right after a feeding, when they are sleepy.  Instead, you stimulate it and keep it awake (again for a certain amount of time depending on age) and then put it down awake.  If it cries, you use a modified Cry-It-Out method very similar to Ferberizing.  You NEVER rock a baby to sleep.

It sounds like a lot of work.  And at first, it is, because you have to keep track of times.  But I'm telling you, if you have two babies, and you ever want to get a good night sleep again...you have to get them sleeping!  And the best part about Babywise is that it boasts teaching your baby to sleep through the night.  And it absolutely worked for us.  Thing1 and Thing2 were sleeping 11 pm through 6 am by 8 weeks old.  Happy momma!

But, the effects lasted way past infancy.  My boys are still fantastic about going to bed.  My friends always seem jealous when we "put them to bed" and it takes less than 5 minutes.  It's because from a very young age we have had a routine and have had clear expectations about bedtime.

We aren't perfect parents by any means.  But the one thing that I strongly feel we've gotten right is their sleeping.  And to me, children who are good sleepers make for happier parents!

So, I thank the woman who passed on this secret to me.  I am thankful I can learn from her trial and error (she did not use Babywise for her first child and she said she nearly died of exhaustion).  And, maybe me passing on our good experience will help another mother out there!

Are they identical?

Are they identical?

Over the past three years, I've learned that there is no easy way to answer this question asked often by well meaning and curious people (friends and strangers alike).

If I say "No, they're fraternal," the response is "No, I think they are identical."  If I say "Yes, they are," the response is "No, I don't think so.  Look, his face is much rounder.  And he is just a little taller."  Either way, I never win.  And honestly, I don't even know which answer is right, myself.

What do I mean?  Well, let's take a brief detour for a quick science lesson, shall we?

Identical twins, technically known as monozygotic twins, are spontaneously formed when one egg and one sperm have joined together and start dividing, just like any normal pregnancy.  However, at some point in this division process, the cell splits into two, which results in not one, but two embryos.  Because of the split, the fetuses will typically end up sharing either a placenta, an embryonic sac, or both, all depending on how early/late in the process the cell splits.  Identical twins, do not "run in families," are not a result of fertility treatments, and do not result in perfect carbon copy children.  While it's true that they share the same initial DNA, there are a other factors that are involved: environmental, lifestyle, etc.  Many of these affect how the twins look over time, however identical twins can come into the world differently too.  Especially since they are more at risk for Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS), which is when the two fetuses receive a disproportionate amount of the blood supply.

Fraternal twins, technically dizygotic twins, are formed when the mother's ovaries release two eggs and both eggs are individually fertilized by sperm.  These twins are genetically no different than any other sibling pair.  They just happen to share a birthday.  However, that doesn't mean that can't look a ton a like (Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen are fraternal twins).  Think about it.  How many times have you heard/seen parents compare pictures of their non-twin children around the same ages and proclaim "They look identical."  My best friend's sons look so much alike that I literally thought two side by side framed pictures were of the same baby.

So, which kind are my boys?  Well, when my doctor found out I was having twins, the first thing she did was look for two sacs and two placentas, because she was concerned about TTTS.  She was glad to report that they did indeed each have their own of both.  She then quickly explained that they were most likely fraternal, with a very small chance of being identical.  I could have a DNA test done, but they are very expensive.  At the time finding out they were most likely fraternal was really good news to me.  I wish I could say it was because I was worried about TTTS.  But really, it was because I was really hoping for one boy and one girl.  And identical twins alway have the same sex.*

*Okay, not always, but almost always with very very few freak exceptions.

Fast forward a few years.  I have two boys who I was told are fraternal, but really do LOOK identical.  And it's not just strangers who can't tell them apart.  It's our friends, our family, and sometimes us! Curiosity takes me to the internet to find out what is the statistical likelihood that they could in fact be identical despite having all their own "parts". Imagine my surprise when I found out that the liklihood is not 1% like I thought, but more like 20% (they just have to have split within the first 72 hours)!.  It's still not huge, but it is 1 in 5.  Those are much better odds than 1 in 100.

So now, I'm thinking "maybe they are identical."  Which then leads me to search for blood tests.  I find out that there are a lot of websites that offer DNA testing for twins.  And, the tests aren't $500 like my doctor told me.  They run about $160 (including shipping).  You order your kit, swab both boys' cheeks, package the swabs up, send them back, and in about 7 days you receive your results.  Easy-peesy.  I'm psyched!  I've got my credit card out and am ready to order.

But something holds me back.  When we got married, Superman and I made a pact not to spend over a certain amount of money without consulting the other.  This was over that amount.  So I put my credit card away and started building my case for why I'd spend $160 on a blood test for absolutely zero medical necessity.  I should have built a better case, because I was DE-NIED!  It was an 'unnecessary expense."  I couldn't argue that it was necessary, because was it?  Really?

With my head hanging low, I called the person with whom I most like to bitch about Superman's stingy nature... my mother-in-law.  Yes, believe it or not, my MIL is my favorite confidant for my complaints about her son.  See, Superman is just like his dad.  And if there is one person who understands my frustrations, it is the woman that has been married to the older version for 40+ years.  Every one of my "ughs" is followed with a reassuring "I know, he does the same thing."

But guess what?  MIL is really interested in the test.  She too thinks they might be identical and really wants to find out for sure.  She offers to pay for the test.  Hmm, so that would take the money issue off the table.

Then I mention the issue to my own mother.  She too wants to find out.  She offers to split the cost with my MIL.

So back to the husband.

And he says... "Nah".  What?  "Nah."  But you said it was an 'unnecessary cost.'  Now, it would be free.  "I just don't want to."

After much "discussion,"  I can best explain that Superman doesn't want the boys to take the test because he doesn't want them to be identical.  He doesn't want them to be one unit split in half, but rather two separate beings with separate identities.  I explain that the test doesn't make them identical.  Whether they are identical or fraternal was determined a long time ago in my uterus, the test would just tell us...  But he won't budge.  He doesn't want to know.  He wants to just go on assuming they are fraternal.  What I don't know doesn't hurt me kind of thinking.

My mother and MIL both encourage me to try and convince him to let the boys take the test, but just don't tell him the results.

Uh, so how does that work?  It'd be like saying "Honey, can I find out the sex of our unborn baby?  I promise I won't tell you."  Meanwhile I'm picking out pink paint for the nursery and buying frilly dresses.  !?!?!?!  There are certain things that are all or nothing.

So far, I've been unable to convince him to change his mind.  And really, should I try?  I mean,  isn't it I who complain that people don't treat them as individuals?

In the end, we made a compromise.  When the boys are older.  If they want to find out for themselves, we will have the test done.  If they don't really care or don't want to know, we won't.  We'll leave it up to them to make that decision.

And I guess I'm happy with that compromise.

Mostly because I'm 100% positive they'll want to find out.

"How do you do it?"

"How do you do it?"

"Having twins must be hard!"

"Is it a lot harder than having one baby?"

"I don't think I could ever do that."

These are just a few variations of a common comment I get from friends and strangers about being a mom of twins.

Depending on the mood I'm in, my responses vary.

If I'm feeling chipper, I'll launch into my informative reply:

Actually, having twins is a lot easier than I though it'd be.  You just have to get them on a schedule.  My kids eat at the same time, sleep at the same time, and even seem to poop almost at the same time!  Honestly, I think it's easier than having two just a year or so apart.  At least my kids eat the same foods, wear the same size clothes and diapers, have the same nap schedules.  I can't imagine having to handle two young ones at different ages with wildly different needs!  Now that sounds hard!

If I'm feeling tired, I give my passive reply:

Yes, it is hard.  Sometimes I don't know how I do it.  (Then stick my nose in a book or change the subject.)

If I'm feeling frisky, I might give one of my smart ass replies:

"How do you do it?"  With a lot of help from cheap wine, ambien, and ear plugs.

"Having twins must be hard!"  Nah, two aren't so bad.  Now triplets, that was bad!  I finally just took their other brother back to the hospital for a refund.

"Is it a lot harder than having one baby?"  I don't know.  I've never had just one baby.

"I don't think I could ever do that." What would you have done?  Put one on the curb with a sign around its neck saying, "Free to a good home."

Please don't call them "the twins"

I love being a mom.  And I especially love being the mother of twins.  There is something so sweet and special about the bond my boys share, and have shared since they were womb mates kicking around in my tummy.

When my cousin's wife (who also had twins) found out our good news she told me "parents of twins are the rock stars of parents".  And she was right.  People are drawn to double strollers with two little pink-nosed bundles of joy.  I couldn't go anywhere without throngs of people who would ooh-and-ahh over how beautiful they were and how lucky I was.  I actually sometimes got embarrassed when I'd be out with a friend who also had a baby and strangers would seem to ignore their singleton to fawn over mine.  I would say it's because my boys are especially beautiful, but I know deep down it is because double the baby equals double the cuteness.  Period.

 It seemed that for the first year I had my sons the soundtrack of my life was on a track repeat of "I always wanted to have twins" and stories of "my cousin's sister's neighbor's ex-boyfriend's mother was a twin."  And other parents of twins alternating between "don't worry, I survived" and "it gets better, honey".

And don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining.  I actually liked the attention.  What mother isn't proud to show off her new baby(ies)?!  And believe you me, I played up the twins aspect by keeping them in coordinating outfits.  Even their bibs and blankets were coordinating with each other.  And yes, if one messed up his outfit, they both got changed!  (Even when it was just us at home.)

But as much as I worked to keep them in coordinating outfits, I steered clear of exactly matching.  You see, whether or not my sons are genetically identical (we'll discuss this in a later blog) they look almost exactly alike.  They have the same hair color, the same eye color, the same nose, the same mouth, and since they've been born they have never been more than a few ounces and a 1/4 inch different in size.  Sure, their father and I can tell them apart by their subtle differences (one's face is rounder while the other's is more oval...one has pointy eyebrows while the other's are more arched), but we are their parents.  We have been with them day and night since they were born.  We can tell their laughs apart.  Their voices.  The way they say our names.  We don't expect other people who have just met them, or only see them a few times a year, or even a few times a month, to be able to pick up on those slight differences.  So, since they were born, I have used a color coding system.  Thing1 is almost always dressed in blue and Thing2 is almost always dressed in red.  Which is handy because Thing1's name and blue both have four letters and Thing2's name and red both have three letters."  Of course, not every outfit can match up exactly to this pattern. Sometimes Thing1 ends up in green (almost blue) and Thing2 in orange (almost red).  Again I didn't do this so we could tell them apart, I did this so OTHER people could.  I wanted people to be able to call them by their name, without always having to ask me "which one do I have again?"  (Although, I will admit that three years later as I'm belatedly working on their scrapbooks, it comes in very handy for recognizing who is who in pictures, which is often harder to tell.)

So, you see, I really don't understand why after all of the trouble I go to to make sure the kids are dressed in code, some people don't even bother to try and tell them apart.  The worst was the woman who called them "the twin" and "the other twin".  I didn't say anything right away, but I did let her know later that that really bothered me.  See, I don't even refer to my sons as "the twins."  I will call them "the boys," "my sons," "my kids," but never "the twins" or "my twins".  I do occasionally say "I have twin boys" or "my three year old twin sons", but I try to always use "twin" as an adjective not a noun.

I can't even really clear explain why this bothers me so much.  I guess for me being a twin is a description of them (adjective), not a definition of who they are (noun).  Sure, they are the same age, look amazingly alike, and both love trains, but there are a lot of differences too.  Thing2 loves fruit.  Any fruit.  And will steal it off your plate if you aren't looking.  Thing1 loves carbs and junk food (pray he gets Daddy's metabolism!).  Thing2 is very independent and wants to do everything himself.  He'll play by himself and doesn't care who is playing with him.  Thing1 always wants help and is always trying to recruit someone to come play with him.  He loves to be cuddled and often asks for extra kisses at bedtime.  Thing2 is stingy with affection and rations how much you can kiss and hug him.  Just to name a few.

To me they aren't "my twins" they are two very different children.  Sure, like I said, I call them my boys, but so does any mom with multiple male children, regardless of age.  Or my kids, like moms who have multiple children of different ages and sexes.  But to call them "the twins" to me conjures up creepy images of pale faced dark haired girls in bobby socks willing you to "come play with me".  Or silly twins in movies who laugh alike, walk alike, and even times they talk alike, finishing each other's sentences and trying to switch places to fool their teachers.  I feel like that word "twin" carries so much connotative meaning that I don't want to pigeon hole my children with.

I should say that not all mothers of twin children agree with me.  I know plenty that they themselves call their children "my twins".  So, my suggestion is that you listen for what the mother says and follow her lead.  And if that isn't clear, I think it is always safe to call the children by their names.  I will never get upset with someone for calling them the wrong name.  To me, what is important is the effort.  How would you feel if I called your son or daughter "the baby" or "the kid" all of the time instead of learning their name?

In any case, they are finally at the age where they can correct you!  Which is really a good thing, because their other new thing to show individuality is their desire to pick out their own clothes.  Yesterday Thing2 picked out a blue Thomas the Tank Engine to wear to school, and Thing1 picked out a red shirt with James on it.  And wouldn't you know that I forgot to mention it to their teacher and she confessed to Superman at pick up that she spent the first part of the morning calling them by the wrong names!

My worry...how will I be able to tell them apart in pictures now!