abc family

Two (Almost) Down

So Linus and Ambrose hit 23 months last week, and now when people ask how old they are I say "almost two" and the people can't tell, but I'm mentally shaking my head in disbelief and high-fiving myself with congratulations at the same time.

It was a BIG deal when our twins turned one, but two feels even bigger to me. I think it's probably because to me, babyhood is two years long. Even though my babies are walking and saying a lot of words, they're still irrational and they cry whenever anything is wrong and they want to be on me and nurse all the time and gah. It's exhausting.

There were many many days in my twins' second year where I sat on the floor with them while they crawled on me, letting them nurse when the other one was distracted for a second, trying to keep them both happy and busy and there was SO MUCH of them. So much baby, and sometimes I sat and sobbed at how overwhelmed I was by the touching and the noise and the need.

One time I told my sister Branwen that I never expected God would send ME twins, because surely He would know that would be too much for me. And Branwen, who loves me a lot, and who is gentle and kind and good to me, said, "Well... yeah, neither did I."

She loves me, but she also knows me. And she wasn't insulting me, she was acknowledging reality. No one who ever saw me with one baby would expect that God would think I could handle two at once.

I am not Mom Enough for two babies. I'm barely Mom Enough for one at a time. It's the truth.

And yet, here's the paradox: I have nailed this Two Babies thing. In my own way, at my own pace, with lots of tears and flailing along the way, but I have nailed it.

It feels good to say that.

I know I've annoyed people before by being too negative about the twin thing online. I don't mind about that - other people annoy me and it's not on them; human relationships just work that way - but it has made me pause and wonder if I'm doing badly by myself or my kids in some way with my attitude.

But you know, I don't think so. I love Linus (in the front in that picture) and Ambrose fiercely. I enjoy them: they're cute and sweet and funny as any toddlers I've ever known, and I feel lucky to spend my days with them. But I don't think I have to love their twinness to love them. They themselves are God's gift to me; their twinness is God's gift to them.

I have busted myself for these babies just as hard, just as lovingly, as I did for my other two. The nature of their being twins has made it physically impossible for me to meet all their needs as quickly and fully as I wished I could, but they have lacked for nothing. At 23 months, they're still nursing (once a day - our compromise because I was ready to crawl out of my skin but they love it so) and I regularly carry them one on each hip (because when they both want me, how can I decide between them?). I've done my best.

(Not that those particular things are necessary to be a good twin mom. They're just symbolic for me personally.)

There are still moments in every day when I inwardly feel the difficulty of having two babies. Right now they fight over me every day while I'm trying to put them down for their nap. I'll wait it out, maybe, or eventually give up on the dream of being able to lie down with them while they drift off like I did with their siblings at this age. In the meantime it is terrible (they bite) (each other) (and me) and long-suffering Lauren gets lots of texts from me about nap purgatory.

This will pass, though, like the other things have. (For instance, at 22 months they finally started sleeping through the night consistently. WIN.) And what will remain after that is my sense of victory, which is no little thing. 

Well, but more importantly, what will remain in that Ambrose and Linus are Ambrose and Linus, and have been since the (my) mind-blowing moment when one embryo split into two. They share a genetic code, they shared a womb, they've shared me. And those second two things have been hard on me and I'll never pretend otherwise, but man.

Not only are they, like every baby, worth their existence for their own sake, but my twins' twinness is worth it so that they can have each other. I'd do it again in a second just for that.

I was never going to be Mom Enough for two babies, because on my own, I was never Mom Enough for even one. Grace always has to fill in the gaps. And I guess someone who could feed a crowd of five thousand on a few loaves and fish can make one little mother stretch to cover two babies.

I'm still discovering and processing all the ways that stretching has made my life better, but ultimately it's not about me. We have twins, but even more than that, they have themselves.

Last month Linus had to go to the doctor and the entire time he was gone Ambrose was agitated and kept bringing me his shoes and coat and pointing at the door. He wanted his brother, and once Linus came home he was happy again.

And the other day my niece took a toy out of Ambrose's hand and made him cry, and as he stood there sobbing Linus came running across the yard to comfort him. He put his hand on Ambrose's back, and then they were standing there together.

Seven One-Sentence Takes

Because I need to develop brevity skills. 

(But they're run-on sentences of course.)

1. It's been a long winter and the combination of weather/illness has kept us trapped in the house, so spring had better get here soon.

2. I've been listening carefully to coughs, wiping noses, doling out antibiotics, and cleaning up vomit for seven months straight, and I really think that is too much.

3. Having a six-year-old and a four-year-old is delightful, however, and despite their bickering they help keep me amused and sane.

4. Faith & Family Live shut down at the right time for me, for a number of reasons, but I miss blogging regularly and I am hoping to remedy that.

5. At 22 months, Ambrose and Linus are becoming friends, and I can see how this twin thing is worth the trouble, and I'm excited for more.

6. Unlimited texting and long-distance phone plans are God's gift to modern friendship, and another reason I remain sane against the odds. 

7. On April 1st (in 10 days!) Bryan and I are taking a three-night getaway while our parents watch the kids, and I'm pretty sure I've never looked forward to anything this much in my life.

Give me a couple sentences about what's been up with you!

(and find more QTs at Jen's, as always)

Linus's and Ambrose's Birth: Final Part

I have a post sitting in my drafts folder that's the final part of my twins' birth story. It's 1500 words already and not close to finished. I abandoned it months ago, but I haven't forgotten that I never finished it. I just got stuck.

My friend A'Dell gave birth a few weeks ago and ended up having a rather traumatic delivery and postpartum experience. All that is her story to tell, not mine, but watching her go through it made me realize that processing Linus's and Ambrose's birth is still a Thing I need to do. It's not going to go away. And yes, I've done a lot of internal work on this over the past 21 months, but writing the birth story is necessary for me. I can't get to the other side of all this without finishing it.

The birth story I originally began writing has lots of details. So many details that I've gotten bogged down in them, and missed adding the life to it. I'm not feeling it.

Instead, here's the story roughly as I've been telling it out loud for 21 months. Because it's worth telling. I want you to hear it and I need to tell it.

__________________________________________

My twins' birth was one of the biggest experiences of my life. I mean that in a good way. Afterward I kept going over it in my mind, thinking did that really happen like that?

The part after the birth was terrible. I'm going to say that up front so I don't have to dread talking about it at the end. Linus and Ambrose were born healthy, with APGARS of 8 and 9, and there was no distress or scary part after they were born, but because they were twins they were born in the operating room and because they were preemies they were whisked to the NICU directly after birth. I got to kiss them each once before the nurses hurried them away, and by the time I saw them several hours later they were wearing wires and tubes and sucking on pacifiers under warmers.

Babies are supposed to have their mothers after birth. Linus and Ambrose were supposed to have me, you know? It hurt that they didn't. It always will. And the seventeen days that followed hurt a damn lot too.

But anyway (now that I'm crying, sheesh) the birth was great. For many reasons. It makes me happy that I'll always have it in my pocket to pull out and remember. I did that. That happened to me. I was lucky.

The only part I can take credit for is choosing the doctors I did, and even that was mostly luck, as most people don't have a top-notch maternal-fetal medicine practice AND a birthing hospital with Level III NICU within 1.5 miles of their houses. But I could've gone with different doctors. In fact, my midwives expected me just to switch to the OBs in their practice. I chose my MFMs instead largely because they're comfortable with multiples deliveries and I thought having them do my care would both minimize the risks for the babies and me AND give me the best chance of a vaginal delivery. Win-win!

I saw a team of three doctors and I liked them all, but I was hoping I'd get one of the two women for delivery because I appreciated their enthusiasm about it. They encourage women who are willing/able to deliver twins without surgery (for lots of reasons) and they're comfortable delivering twins who are vertex/breech (many will OBs only do vertex/vertex). This was a big deal to me during the doctor-choosing process, and by the time I delivered I was just happy with my doctors overall. I felt we all liked and respected each other and that I could trust them to manage risks and help me make the best decisions for the babies and myself no matter what curveballs we got thrown.

The curveball we ended up getting is the one I already wrote about in the earlier parts of this birth story: preterm labor hospitalization at 33w3d, steroids and release, rising blood pressure at 34w1d, re-hospitalization. Bloodwork and overnight tests continued to show that I did not have preeclampsia but in the meantime I dilated to 7cm without even being in labor. So there I was, on the morning of May 11, not in labor, not in a condition that called for medical induction, just stuck. Stuck at the hospital until delivery. Whee.

The good news was that Dr. Happy Chatty was on call that week. She was the one who checked me and discovered I was 7cm, at which point she actually sort of... cheered. Because she was excited that she'd get to be the one to deliver my babies. (Gratifying!) And I was excited about that too.

This is one weird thing about going to high-risk obstetricians: they have way different standards about what is "good" outcome. The prospect of any NICU at all (the neonatologists who came to talk to us predicted a 1-3 week stay) felt terrible to me. But my doctors were all: Look at this! You're almost to term and your babies might have to be in the hospital a little but their prognosis is great! Everything will be fine! Hooray happy outcomes!

(Interesting side story: a week later I ran into Dr. Happy Chatty at the hospital and she told me in confidence that she was pregnant herself, eight weeks along with spontaneous twins. (!!!) And I was in the middle of NICU ennui at the time but she said, "I'm really hoping for an outcome as good as yours." That was a sort of...  clarifying moment for me. As in: okay, yes, this NICU is not fun, but we're fortunate overall.)

(Dr. HC did have her own twin girls at nearly full term about 6.5 months later. Everything went well for her! Yay!)

At any rate: my doctor, not considering 34w2d to be scarily preterm, was excited about my delivery. She advised I eat a big lunch and then see what happened. Since we'd discovered that baby B had flipped head down and he and baby A were "battling it out" (her words) for prime position, she warned me that we might need a little Pitocin to help get them into delivery position. But since the twins' sacs were intact and they were acing their monitoring sessions, she said she saw no need to rush things. The choice about when to start Pitocin would be mine.

Some time later, I realized that when Dr. HC said it would be my choice, she really meant I could stay in the hospital for days if my condition stayed the same. She wouldn't have made the decision to induce me at preterm without a pressing medical reason. Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately; I've never been able to decide - I didn't understand that at the time, and assumed that if I didn't make the call to start Pitocin she would make it for me at some point. Even though she never said that.

What ended up happening: after Bryan ran out and brought back the most delicious Jimmy John's lunch of my life, he and I hung out at the hospital all afternoon. We walked the halls a little, but that made my back hurt (baby head pressing into my spine!) so I couldn't do it for long. Standing up would give me contractions but also so much back pain that it didn't feel worth it. I talked on the phone with a few people. I took a nap. We watched some TV. My nurse was kind of grumpy (and had a cough, which I did not appreciate) so I was glad that it looked like I would definitely not deliver before the shift change at 7:00pm.

My sister brought Camilla and Blaise to visit around dinner time.  

I loved cuddling them, touching their soft skin and hair and hearing their chirpy voices. I was feeling emotional, worn out, hating being stuck in the hospital. Seeing them pumped me up (oh! that's right! THIS is why we go through this pregnancy stuff, because kids are awesome) and wore me out (because I was missing being home with them. hospitals stink) and so when they left I decided I was ready to get my twins out. I wanted to get the labor over with so I could get home and be with half my children, since the babies would be in NICU anyway.

Plus I did not want to have another uncomfortable night on an L&D bed only to start Pitocin in the morning anyway. I wanted to get things moving and make the inevitable sleepless night a useful one at least.

I asked the nurse to get me one of the residents and the resident called Dr. HC and talked to her about the plan. She came back and told me that the doctor was fine with waiting longer if I wanted -

(This is the part with the misunderstanding: she meant indefinitely and I thought she meant until the next morning. So basically, I made the call for an induction myself. I have complicated feelings about this but I've worked to make peace with it; I just have to trust that somehow things worked out the way they were supposed to.)

- but that if I was ready to go ahead, we'd start Pitocin at 7, get an epidural at 8, and move right along to delivery.

And that is pretty much how it went. My grumpy daytime nurse started the Pitocin before she left, and then my night shift nurse came in. In a happy coincidence, it was Catie,* the same nurse who'd been at my sister Branwen's delivery the previous August. I was thrilled to see her: she's young and friendly and kind, and I felt like I could trust her.

Pitocin picked my contractions up to a reasonable rate, but they were mild enough that I was talking through them. I couldn't believe it when the anesthesiologist showed up to give me my epidural. How could this be it? I just got to... opt out of the rest of the pain? It felt weird and good both.

(My previous two pain-med-free births? Still what I'd choose if given the chance to go back. But in this case, for many reasons, I'm glad I made the decision to get the epidural. It ended up being right for this birth.)

Once my epidural was in and doing its work, it was waiting time. Dr. HC arrived not long afterward. We sat around chatting. Catie was in and out, charting and checking in on things, joining in on the conversation when she could. It was FUN, honestly. I wasn't in pain, the babies were tolerating labor beautifully, and I was progressing. The doctor did a couple dilation checks and had the nurse turn the Pitocin up to help force one of the babies' heads to engage. We talked about all kinds of things - our families, pregnancy and children generally, Catholic stuff (it turned out the nurse was Catholic and I already knew the doctor was, and you know how much I love Catholic stuff. We had some interesting discussions). Dr. HC sat back with her feet up. Bryan and I were relaxed. It was very different from my previous two labors, which required such concentration during transition. I felt almost bewildered by the difference, but it was nice.

I was also posting on Twitter occasionally, and it was fun seeing all the excitement and the #moshertwins hashtag. I loved knowing so many people were thinking of us, praying and pulling for us.

In the back of my mind the whole time, I knew that eventually I would get wheeled down to the operating room (our hospital, like most, requires that multiples be born in the OR even if they're not delivered surgically) and that Ambrose and Linus (as I already thought of them even though Bryan and I were the only ones who knew their names) would be taken away. They'd been with me - and each other -since conception and it was awful to think about how that was about to end.

Really, though, I didn't think about it much during those hours between 8pm and midnight. We were just hanging, everyone was healthy and happy and things were happening the way they were supposed to. At one point Bryan asked Dr. HC, just out of curiosity, if she could predict a time of birth. She guessed they'd probably be born by midnight.

But May 12th came before the excitement started. It actually came a little after midnight. Dr. HC had declared me nearly complete at my last check about half an hour before. I was starting to feel some serious pressure and she decided to check again.

Oh! I should mention that at our hospital, the epidural works thusly: the patient gets a big bolus of anesthetic when the epidural is placed. That achieves the initial effect. After that, it's up to her (and there's a big sign saying only the patient may push the button) to decide how strong her epidural is. She can push the button and get another small dose of anesthetic as often as every 10 minutes.

So by midnight, I could have had a couple dozen doses of anesthetic... but I had pushed the button only once. Compared to the pain of anesthesia-free birth, the numbed pressure of contractions on the epidural was not bad, and I was concerned about being able to feel things at pushing time. I'd only ever done this the other way, you know? And I knew something might happen that would require getting the babies out fast and I wanted to be sure I'd been able to push as best as I could. I definitely hit the button when I felt like I needed it... but by midnight I'd say I had a pretty weak epidural going on.

Then: pressure. Big time. I KNOW that pressure, and I told Dr. HC I thought babies were getting ready to come out. Both sacs were still intact (artificial rupture of membranes is riskier with multiples, so the doctor would not break my water until 10cm so as not to increase risk of cord compression or prolapse) and the plan was that when I was complete, she'd break the bottom sac and it'd be go time.

Which is... kind of what happened. Except that as she was putting gloves on to do the check, one sac broke. But not the bottom one, the top one. Ha! Complicated. Also kinda messy.

Dr. HC did NOT (bless her heart) tell me what was going on a the time, but she suddenly got really focused. I was still chatting away, actually, but Bryan noticed, and then I noticed that he was watching her. He asked her if everything was okay, and she was reassuring, but she was also working hard to get the bottom sac broken. Ironically, it turned out to be really tough. She tried, like, three different implements to break it. She had the nurse leaning on my belly (comfortable!) to make the sac bulge as much as possible and she was discussing the possibility of a needle amniotomy, when the little glove with the pokey thing on it finally did the trick.

WHOOSH.

And BAM. Baby head. Right. There.

The rest of this labor had been different from my previous ones, but this. This feeling I knew. I'd been chatting still, and smiling (having taken the doctor at her word that everything was okay) but suddenly I was focused. I spoke firmly. I might've kinda shouted, actually. "There's a baby there. He's ready to come out."

Suddenly there were people everywhere, and Dr. HC gave me a reassuring grin as she gowned up. "Can you hold on for two contractions? Just give me two and then we'll get those babies out."

I could, I thought I could, so I focused on keeping the baby in. They threw a sheet on me. A tech was helping Bryan into operating room gear, and I remember checking to make sure he was holding the camera. Then we were rushing down the hall, just fifty feet or so. I was glad it was the middle of the night and the place was empty.

There were SO MANY PEOPLE in the operating room. Neonatologists and NICU nurses, and labor and delivery nurses and every OB resident in the hospital (probably some other residents too) but I only thought about who all those people were later, because right then I had a job: I REALLY NEEDED to get some babies out of me.

They pulled me over near the operating table and I realized they wanted me to get onto it before I could give birth. WHAT. The residents were getting ready to lift me (over my two hospital stays I'd gotten to know all four of them and I really liked them all - I was glad they were there) but I was like, "No, I'll do it," and I hopped over onto the table.

I felt the next contraction coming and I looked to Dr. HC for confirmation that I could push and she nodded, so I did. With all the strength I could summon, and it's weird how pushing always feels brand new and yet completely familiar each time, but I could tell it was working and my doctor and the residents were encouraging. And then the next contraction, and I gave it everything, and there he was.

I always say he popped out and he literally did: all his brother's fluid and stuff was waiting up there behind him. It sprayed everywhere. People were covered with liquids that had come out of my body. I mean: ewwwww. For them, anyway.

It would've been mortifying except that I didn't have time to concentrate on that because as soon as that baby was out I felt his brother's head engage. I kinda gasped, I think, at the doctor, "The other guy is there! Can I push him out too?"

And she laughed and said, "Hold on! We haven't even clamped this baby's cord yet."

But they clamped fast and it was good that they did because it was one push, and one more, and then our second baby was born. The first twin at 12:38am, the second at 12:41am. May 12th was their birthday.

Both of them were yelling as they got weighed. They were strong and healthy and they looked good, although the first baby was kind of pale and the second extra red. (We'd find out why later.)

They asked us their names, and I glanced at Bryan for a nod before telling everyone that the first baby was Linus Michael and the second was Ambrose John.

5lbs, 7oz for Linus, 5lbs, 12oz for Ambrose. Both 18.5 inches long.

Here's a funny thing: in medical terms, the baby who's born first is baby A and the second baby B, which means at birth Linus was A and Ambrose was B. But! During my pregnancy Ambrose had been closer to the cervix. He was baby A and Linus was baby B. I remember asking one of the doctors if baby A always came out first and she said that he almost always did, but that every once in a while something weird happened and baby B was born first.

Well, it happened to us. Linus, that quirky and determined little guy, stayed breech on top until the last 24 hours before he was born, then flipped head down, nudged his brother out of the way, and got born first.

We still gave them the names we'd been planning - somehow I just knew which one was which while they were still in utero, so we'd already named them - but more than one NICU nurse asked why we didn't give baby A the name that began with A. And I was like, "Well, we did! But we were thwarted."

I'm only going to talk about the fun parts from after the birth because, like I said before, a lot of it was awful. I got to kiss my babies on the forehead, once each, and then they were gone. I sent Bryan with them because I couldn't bear the thought of them being alone.

So it was my doctor and the residents and me, and they were busy with post-birth stuff. I remember delivering the placenta and having Dr. HC show it to me. It was huge! And had two cords coming out of it, which just looked bizarre. But it was nice and healthy-looking, she said.

After that I just kinda chilled and chatted with everyone as I got stitched up in the OR. I like to talk in times like that, and I'm sure I said lots of nonsensical things. The head resident did the stitches, and I remember asking her to give me a local anesthetic, because my epidural had worn off by then. I'm okay with anesthesia-free birth but I will not do anesthesia-free stitches. No way.

And my doctor told us what had happened at the end, why the babies were so different in color from each other: when the top amniotic sac broke, my uterus started to clamp down. It caused me to bleed and it caused transfusion in the placenta: Ambrose, whose cord was centered, started getting more blood than Linus, whose cord was on one end. That was why Dr. HC had suddenly gotten focused when A's water broke: she realized what could happen and that we needed to get the babies out as fast as possible.

"When we were running to the OR," she told me, "I was praying to myself that you were good at pushing, because we didn't have much time. And then, whoa! You really were!"

Still makes me grin thinking about that.

I wrote Dr. HC a long gushy thank-you note a couple weeks later. I feel like I owe her so much - for believing this birth could happen, for respecting me as a patient, for managing the risks, for keeping that reassuring face on when it was game time and giving me the freedom to focus and give birth the way I did. It could've been so scary, but with her at the wheel I got to just... be in it. And it was so, so good. My babies are healthy and I am healthy and I got lucky but she gave me all the best chances and it was so good.

NICU ended up being good for me in a lot of ways. Long-term ways, that I'm still working through. But at the time it was brutal, slogging through it, and I was so grateful that the part right before NICU was exciting and happy and a once-in-a-lifetime kind of story to tell. I still am.

Linus and Ambrose got born and it was good and I'm grateful. I guess that's the whole story really. 

(The picture that feels right in this spot is NICU homecoming day. But if you want to see pics from right after the birth, they're here.)

*This is (basically) her real name.

 

Chugging Along

I've been feeling itchy lately, and kind of aimless in a sad way, and it occurred to me a while (okay, a month) ago that I haven't been writing since Faith & Family shut down. And blah blah blah insert boring introspective rambling here, but the thing is that I do not feel good when I don't write. My mind doesn't make sense and my mind is a bowl full of scraps of paper with random ideas and half-thunk thoughts on them, and the wind is blowing and I have to keep the thoughts in and try to make some order out of them and I keep adding more and gah! Just writing this lame analogy is making me panicky.

So. Lining the thoughts up. Just a few of them, tonight, because I'm solo parenting and I need to make myself some energy by watching television and eating ice cream sandwiches.

(If that's not how YOU make energy I am sorry for you.)

1. I am solo parenting, in fact, BY CHOICE for perhaps the first time ever. I mean, there's give and take going on, because I went to New Orleans in November for The Blathering AND to DC in January to visit Lauren, so I have gotten my share of Me Time and it's only fair for Bryan to have his.

But he has travelled for work quite a number of nights over the past six years and the fact is that whenever it has come down it (meaning when I have looked deeply into my own soul and wondered if I had the grit to handle it; Bryan doesn't pressure me) I have always previously been a leeeetle too weak to say, "Oh yes, honey, please take a few nights and go on vacation by yourself! I can manage even more solo parenting than I already do!" Because I wasn't sure the second sentence of that would be true.

Now, however, twins have turned me into Iron Woman (and also given me the perfect excuse to throw myself upon my mother's mercy and beg her to come help me, which she has done this week, which is why I even have energy to write this, as true solo parenting leaves me blubbering in the corner by bedtime).

Holy cow I'm surprised the gods in charge of guarding parentheses from abuse have not come and struck me down.

Annnnnnnyway, the point is, I am STRONG now so I said to Bryan, said I, "Dear husband, please book yourself the [short-ish] trip of your dreams and I will handle the rest. Depend on me." So he is at Vail. He loves it there. (The man started skiing at age three and - no joke - the first time I saw him come down a ski hill I did not quite believe it was him, as he is quite graceful on skis. Only on skis. He would tell you himself that his dancing is an embarrassment. But on the slopes he's quite impressive.)

And because - wonder of wonders - no one in the household is sick at this exact moment, and because my mother is here to help (She is like a human Roomba. I can't believe the volume of chore-doing she manages just... walking around. It's astounding.) I am doing prettttttty well. It's good. Thursday evening will be here before I know it. I'm not even really counting the hours.

2. Hey, look at that! Time for television and ice cream sandwiches.

In less than 48 hours I'll be doing this with Bryan on the couch next to me again.

(Okay. I lied about the not counting hours part.)

3. Sleep is good. Relaxing is good. Balancing the two is nearly impossible when you're a parent of small children.

But someday I'll have plenty of sleep time and plenty of relaxation time and then I'll MISS the small children. I'm pretty sure. That's what they say, anyway. 

Yeah okay it's probably true.

(I cannot for the life of me figure out how to post this photo right side up. You get the idea anyway. Linus under the green blanket. Blaise's black eye is not permanent.)

 

2012 Reviewed

I know everyone else posted these weeks ago, but I like to keep you all on your toes. Surprise! 2012 is over! Had you heard?

1. What did you do in 2012 that you’d never done before?

Kept four children alive (and mostly thriving). Had a non-newborn-aged child hospitalized. 

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

In 2012 (according to this post from last year) I wanted to:

1. feed my family more vegetables, 
2. give my big kids more attention and affection, and 
3. try to be gentler with myself.

The results:

1. Um, nah. This was a big failure. Maybe in 2013!
2. Surprisingly, I exceeded my own expectations on this. I definitely do a lot more cuddling and attention-giving with Camilla and Blaise than I was doing this time last year. When I wrote the resolution it felt almost impossible that I'd be able to come up with the required emotional energy to pull it off well, but I did. I think it's possible that Linus's and Ambrose's (comparatively) decreased physical needs made it possible.
3. You know what? Yes. I am noticeably gentler with myself these days. Chalk one up to habits learned in cognitive therapy, plus lots of pep talks from people who love me.

In 2013:

1. Really, this time, with the vegetables. I'm serious.
2. Give my marriage a lot of time and attention. Bryan and I are a strong team now, but we need to have, y'know, LEISURE together instead of just work work working all the time. Even if I have to give up some of my reading or solo relaxation time to do it.
3. Try to volunteer and give a little bit more, now that my own life is not as crazy as it used to be. I think I'll shoot for one good work for another person/family per month.
4. Relax and enjoy life as much as possible. It's been a grueling couple of years, and we deserve to breathe a little.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

My sister Branwen had a baby on August 30th! Little Leah Clare, who's an incredibly sweet baby and exactly the person our whole family needed this year. I got to be there for the birth, too, which was wonderful.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
 

My grandfather, my dad's father, died in August at the age of 86. Sadly, I hadn't seen him in several years, but he was a huge presence in my life. I think of him and pray for him every day.

5. What countries did you visit? What states did you visit? What counties did you visit?

I am proud, because in 2012 I actually managed to visit a few other states. I drove (through Indiana) to Peoria, Illinois in March for the Behold Conference, and flew to New Orleans, Lousiana in November for The Blathering. I also drove around Michigan a bit, so I probably topped my 2011 county count. Score! 

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?

Time. Time to rest, time to read, time to breathe and eat an entire meal in peace. Not, like, TONS of time - I am a mother of four young children after all - just an hour here or there to recharge. 

Also, writing work that helps me grow and (hopefully) brings a little money in as well.

7. What dates from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

February 21st, Linus was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia, and March 1st, we brought him home.

May 12th was our twins' first birthday. A big achievement for us!

August 28th, Camilla started first grade. Since we don't do preschool and we homeschooled her for kindergarten, this was our first day ever sending a kid to school. And - relief - it went well.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

It sounds mundane, but honestly: managing my life day to day feels like a huge achievement to me. I'm proud of myself every day I pull through without wanting to give up by bedtime.

Oh, and I entered a weight loss contest and won. That was pretty cool.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Ergh. I dislike this question. My particular brand of bad habit mind-bending means that I could list about thirty things as big failures of mine without even having to dig deep. But I try not to do that anymore, so. Pass.

Oh, wait! I'll go with the thing about the vegetables. Not enough of those! Yes! Big FAIL there!

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Other than my physical, I went to the doctor only once, for this weird stomachache thing I was having (it kept me up all night once) whenever I drank alcohol. The doctor decided I didn't have gallbladder issues or an ulcer, and recommended PPIs (Prilosec, etc) which I took one course of, but then I decided to give up drinking rather than stay on meds forever. Fortunately, four months later I was able to start drinking again, in moderation, and I seem to tolerate it okay. Thank goodness! Having to give up alcohol forever would be a serious injury to my happiness. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?

This is such a boring parent-y answer, but we bought an IP camera that allows us to have a video monitor in the bedroom where the twins are sleeping. I can't believe I lived without video-monitoring my kids before! It's awesome.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

My answers from last year are still true: Bryan (most helpful supportive spouse ever) and Lauren (the friend I'd given up dreaming I'd find - can't believe I've only known her five years) and my family (BEST. FAMILY. EVER. full stop.)

But also, when Linus was hospitalized a bunch of my online friends got together and sent us an incredibly generous token of support that made me flat-out BAWL when I got it, I was so touched. 

A month or two later, a anonymous person sent us a gift by mail to help with our expenses from Linus's hospitalization. It was huge and completely unexpected and completely wonderful.

And a couple other times, when I had my own opportunities to organize help for some who needed it, the way that people reached out and GAVE, gave generously, to friends and to strangers, blew me away. I've always believed people are good, but this year I saw it in action many times. It was lovely.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Do we have to talk about this? Anyone who hurts anyone else, period, but especially anyone who hurts children. Whether they make the news or not.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Taxes, mortgage, etc, with the added bonus of Catholic school tuition for Camilla. That one is actually a pleasure to pay, though (as long as I don't think about how much tax money we're paying into a school system we don't use). Also, more medical bills than we were hoping for, due to Linus's hospitalization and a load of sick visits (mostly for the twins - co-pays times two!).

Being parents is expensive, but there's nothing I'd rather be spending money on than the privilege of raising our kids.

15. What did you get really excited about?

Meeting a bunch of my favorite Catholic-blogger friends at Behold.

Ambrose and Linus turning one.

Taking Camilla and Blaise to Cedar Point, sans babies (thanks to the generosity of my sisters, who watched them for us).

A night away with Bryan, sans all children (this was our twins'-birthday present from my parents and sisters, and they could not have come up with a better one.

My trip to the Blathering and all the people I met there.

My sister getting engaged! (see more below)

And Christmas, because I love Christmas.

16. What song will always remind you of 2012?

Ha! "Call Me Maybe" I think, because that song was EVERYWHERE.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
 

– happier or sadder? Happier! Yes. Instead of having two babies, I have two toddlers, which is way more fun. I'm sleeping much more than I was last year, and am generally stronger and better able to care for myself and my family. All good. It's good. And I expect 2013 to be even better.

– thinner or fatter? Thinner. Which wasn't true until this fall - the last bit of baby weight stuck around for a while - but I did a weight loss contest called Biggest Blogging Loser (see more here), and it turns out that money is the motivator I need for weight loss. Cut back on my eating, and 11.5% of my body weight later, I brought home the $410 pot. It was awesome! I feel lucky that weight loss is so relatively easy for me, and REALLY lucky that I got to both (a) fit into my pants again, and (b) win money doing it.

– richer or poorer? Poorer. Yikes. Medical bills, tuition, our car died, etc... and thanks to new taxes and health care changes, next year's answer looks to be even worse. Bah.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Like, in my dream world? Reading in the bath.

In the real world? Being generous and patient toward the people around me. Always.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
 

Um, being impatient and selfish. Also, picking up toys off the floor.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
 

At home, just the six of us, on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. 4:30pm Christmas Eve Mass, appetizers for dinner, reading The Grinch, A Visit from St. Nicholas, and the account of the nativity from the Gospel of Luke, hanging stockings. Opening stockings with the kids at 7:00am, eating cinnamon rolls and bacon for breakfast, opening family presents one by one around the tree.

Later in the day my parents and sisters came to town and we had family dinner at my in-town sister's house. It was a pretty great day.

21. Did you fall in love in 2012?
 

We're supposed to fall in love EVERY YEAR, aren't we? Shoot, I knew I missed something.

22. What was your favorite TV program? 

Probably The Big Bang Theory, which Bryan and I discovered newly this year and watched the entirety of.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
 

I don't hate anyone.

24. What was the best book you read?
 

I started the year with a re-read of The Lord of the Rings, and of course I didn't read anything the rest of the year that topped it. That story gives me so much truth every time I revisit it.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?  Did you manage to get your carpets professionally steam-cleaned, as planned?

Dang it, no. We didn't, because once the twins got over their babyhood reflux, it turned out they're pukers like their sister, and (seriously) not a single fortnight went by without someone in the house vomiting. (Gross!)

The carpets... suffered. It seemed like a waste to get them cleaned. But this year, we're cleaning them anyway! I declare it!

26. What did you want and get?
 

Babies who sleep through the night! Not that they do it with any consistency, but they have both managed it on a handful of occasions. I think they have even coordinated it once or twice.

Also, a Kindle Paperwhite. (Christmas gift from Bryan.) I treasure that thing.

27. What did you want and not get?
 

I can never get enough time to myself. But I sort of think if I got all the time I WANTED, it wouldn't be good for me.

28. What was your favorite film of this year?

I wrote Crazy, Stupid, Love but apparently that came out in 2011. Hmm. Well, it was still *my* favorite film this year, and I lived under a rock most of 2011, so.

I wish Steve Carell were my uncle. Wouldn't that be a hoot?

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
 

I turned 30 on August 23rd. To celebrate that and our ten-year wedding anniversary, Bryan booked us a hot air balloon ride in early August. That was quite a way to celebrate. Pretty cool.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Immeasurably? I suppose if all my children cared for their own physical needs and - why not? - kept the house clean too, so I could just enjoy hanging with them instead of being stressed by the endless to-do list of running this household.

This IS supposed to be a fantasy-type question, yes?

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012? Have you showered today? Good for you!

Well... yesterday. That's close enough, right?

32. What kept you sane?
 

Bryan, Lauren, my family, my Twitter pals, reading, kid-free outings, and indulgent bedtime snacks.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Can you sing the theme song from Thomas & Friends? Do you hate it?

Still can, still do.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

Religious freedom. Worrying about that is new, and not welcome.

35. Who did you miss?
 

My sister Miriel and my brother Brandon and my brother Kelson, hundreds of miles away. Lauren, ditto. The year I learn to apparate is going to be the year my life finally improves immeasurably.

(Same answer as last year, because it's still true.)

36. Who was the best new person you met?

This is a fun one this year: 

My sister Miriel's now-fiance John, and my brother Brandon's now-fiancee Heather. Both of them started dating in 2012 and are due to get married in June and October of 2013.

I am ridiculously excited about this. New and awesome people in the family! What could be better?

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012.

Weirdly, this one came to me all blinding-flash-like at the end of the year:

I can be who I am, and some of them will like me and some of them won't, and that's okay. And also life is better if I try not to care at all whether people admire me.

Still working on assimilating it, but I think I really believe it now.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. Do you like ice cream?

You know, I've never been a huge fan, but in 2012 I developed quite a fondness for turtle sundaes. I ate LOTS of them. Ice cream is definitely on my YES list now.

Blathering Video-log 2012

It is ridiculously lame how late I am joining in on this, but here! Enjoy 10 entire minutes of me being a huge dork!

I'm leaving tomorrow (after four days of solo parenting) to go to the Blathering in New Orleans. I come home to another five days of Bryan being gone, but the four days and three nights that I'm in NOLA are going to be wonderful, I just know it. I need this vacation SO much.

The questions I answered aren't on the official Blathering site, but A'Dell helpfully wrote them all out.

Camilla, Rebellious Six

I keep wanting to write about Camilla, but there are too many things to say and not enough words. And she's not a baby any more; I'm cognizant of wanting to write only things that she, ten years from now, won't be sorry I wrote.

But I don't think this means I can't write about her at all, and she is so delightful that I WANT to share about her here. I could write tens of thousands of words and not capture her essense, but anything is better than nothing, so this is a snapshot of Camilla, aged six:

She's a rule-follower; at least, when she needs to be. In her first-grade classroom they have "virtue steps" - a chart on the wall where every child has a labeled magnet. Good, kind or generous acts get you moved up the steps, rule-breaking ones get you moved down.

I asked Camilla what specific things her classmates have done to result in their moving down the steps. 

"Oh, like, talking in class when it's not allowed."

I asked if she has ever done this. The look she gave me!

"Mom! You are not SUPPOSED to talk in class unless you have raised your hand and the teacher calls on you." (I'm pretty sure she didn't say "duh!" only because she has not yet learned it.) It was clearly outrageous to her that I would even entertain the possibility of her breaking the rules.

But predictably, she uses a lot of energy controlling herself at school and then acts out when she gets home. Backtalk and flagrant disobedience of orders are on the rise; she's forcing Bryan and me to step up our disciplinary game to compensate.

Camilla yells a lot more these days, presumably because she works hard to be quiet at school, and one of her favorite things to yell is "BAD BLAISEY!" For a while she was doing this every time her brother annoyed her, and although I found it hilarious, I had to forbid it for obvious reasons.

Also forbidden at our house are a few words we don't want our children saying. So far, "stupid" and "hate" and "butt" are on the list.

So my little girl, who is so well-behaved at school that she earned two "virtue certificates" (the reward for reaching the top of the virtue steps) in the first six weeks - the second kid in her class to do so - and who is described by her teacher as "sweet and kind," got so frustrated with her brother recently that an act of grave rebellion was in order.

I know she must have been really mad. I also know that I was glad I was in the next room so she couldn't see me crack up when I heard her shriek, "STUPID STUPID HATE BUTT BLAISEY!" as loudly as she could.

Ask me how much I love the fact that this is what constitutes an extreme act of disobedience for Camilla right now.

I'd like age six to stick around for a while. Two to three years at least.

7 Quick (although they never are) Takes (mostly about my twins)

-1-

I was chatting with Lauren yesterday about how many of the offical pediatric recommendations have changed in the six years since I became a parent. It's crazy. Like: we weren't supposed to give baby Camilla peanuts, egg whites, shellfish, strawberries, and probably some other things I'm forgetting. Now it's anything goes! (Except for honey which has botulism which infants can't digest. That probably won't change.) Since we don't have any family history of allergies, our doctor said we could give Linus and Ambrose whatever food we wanted. So different from the horribly restrictive time way back in 2007.

It feels silly, since I'm still a pretty youngish newish parent myself, but I can now sympathize with people from my parents' generation (yes, including my actual parents, although they're awesome generally) who are tempted to roll their eyes at us new parents intent on following all the rules to the letter. The rules change! "The newest research" is a variable concept! Who knew?

-2-

Our pediatrician's office has been getting way too many phone calls from me recently, because Linus and Ambrose have had, by my estimate, at least six colds since Camilla started school at the end of August. Their poor congested heads couldn't take it, they each ended up with an ear infection, and it turns out that along with getting fevers they both throw up when they have ear infections, and amoxicillin worked for Linus but Ambrose needed a stronger antibiotic, which he hates, and this week (just as Linus's antibiotics were finished and Ambrose's are finishing) they have ANOTHER cold. I'm so sick (heh) of feeling their foreheads for fever and dealing with their extra neediness and fret fret fretting about secondary infections and all that infernal stuff.

I always say that I'm happy as long as no one has to be hospitalized. Maybe that's not true. I'm happiER than I was during Linus's hospital stay last winter, but it is still zero fun to have my babies grumpy and clinging to me, and negative amounts of fun to be worried about them. I want them to be healthy so they can be happy so we all can be happy. Bah.

-3-

It's funny in a "dang, why does it always work out like that?" way that the kid who has needed the longer, stronger dose of antibiotics is Ambrose, our drug-hater. He gets 10mLs of Augmentin twice a day, and it takes both of us and some serious grit to get it into him. And his medicine is flavored! It doesn't even taste that bad! (Yes, I tasted it.)

Meanwhile, Linus happily sucks down his 5mLs of unflavored amoxicillin and then, like, begs for more. If he sees me dosing up Ambrose's syringe of meds, he'll chase me down to try to get a taste. We jokingly call him "the junkie." If he gets a high fever and needs ibuprofen and acetaminophen alternated, he's thrilled.

I don't *hope* that Linus is the one who gets the bad ear infection [if there is a] next time, because that would be wrong. But it'd certainly be easier if it worked out that way.

-4-

On a much much MUCH happier note, three weeks ago we started nightweaning the babies. And it's WORKING. (Despite their having been sick this whole time, so it's pretty much a miracle. I credit St. Jude.)

Bryan must've been afraid - unnecessarily - that he hadn't quite locked up the Dad of the Year title for 2012, so he volunteered to deal with Linus and Ambrose between midnight and 6am each night while I slept with white noise and earplugs in the other room. The first night was really bad; I think he was up from 2-6am, but since then it's gotten progressively better. 

And (lean in, because I have to whisper this) in the past week they have both slept through the night, multiple times. Ambrose twice, Linus five or six times. I nurse them (often a dream feed) before I go to bed around 11pm and last night they both slept through until 6am. They never woke Bryan once!

We are so happy about this we don't even know what to do with ourselves. Camilla and Blaise were never successfully nightweaned and sleeping through until around 22 months, so this is new territory for us. It is amazing. I am truly having trouble believing that it actually worked.

-5-

Our little dudes are 17 months old today, and they are finally both walking competently.

Ambrose was staggering around by 15 months, and Linus was taking confident steps by 16 months, but this is the first month I can say we have two real walkers.

(Thank the Lord, FINALLY.)

Camilla walked at 13.5 months and Blaise at 12.5 months, so when I was looking forward last spring, I assumed Linus and Ambrose would be walking this summer. June, maybe, or July at the latest.

But we got to 14 months. Nothing. Not even close. Okay, they were born six weeks early, so maybe by 15 months. And Ambrose came close; he was a pretty good walker by late August. But Linus, whose entire motor development was delayed by (we think) his severe anemia last winter, took until nearly 16 months before he'd even try to take a step on his own. It's just been in the past couple weeks that he's gotten the confidence to walk more than he crawls, and in the last few days that I've seen him walking almost exclusively.

-6-

I should be used to it by now, because this is common, but it's confusing to me: people in general (by which I mean other parents, especially older ones who accost you in the grocery store) seem to think walking is BAD. 

Why is this?

"Just wait until they start walking!" they say. "You're gonna be in so much trouble."

Whatever, grocery store shoppers. I LIKE it when my kids walk. I love toddlerhood. My life has gotten easier and better each time my baby started walking. Yes, it's a little more daunting now that there are two of them to run in opposite directions, but it was exhausting carrying them both around. Now that they can propel themselves places, my back will enjoy the break.

Besides, is there anything cuter than chubby-cheeked little ones who were babies mere minutes ago walking around like real adult people? I think not. It slays me, the cuteness of it. I'm thrilled.

-7- 

And of course, Linus and Ambrose, who have been enjoying throwing us curveballs since the moment they decided to split into two of them (or however that worked. I like to imagine them colluding. It feels accurate) walked late but were prodigious in developing all the gross motor skills we DON'T want them to have.

They climb everything. EVERYTHING. 

We have to be vigilant about keeping all the chairs pushed in at the table because before you turn around, one of them will be on top of it. Standing on it, shaking all the salt out of the shaker.

I realize that this is normal toddler behavior, but Camilla was a ridiculously tractable toddler (seriously, we told her "no" once and she'd never do it again) and Blaise is the kind of kid who can't be bothered to make mischief when there are so many blocks to be carefully stacked in complex patterns (and so little time). So this is new to us.

See, right here. These are some cute little guys (Ambrose on left, Linus on right) but if you look closely you'll see they are standing on a plastic bin. Standing on the floor would be too boring.

Oh, we are in trouble.

 

See more Quick Takes at Queen Jen's.

Good at This

I think my pal Rachel's Tuesday Ten might be just the thing to revive this poor neglected blog.

Blogging doesn't really fit into my life right now, but that's not okay with me. I care about this space and this record and I will keep coming back to it, always.

Today I'm thinking about stages and how they morph and how it makes life better/worse and how I'm happy that right now, it's better.

Camilla started school this fall, first grade since we homeschooled her for kindergarten, and we couldn't have asked for her to have an easier and happier transition than she's had. I'm thrilled.

I'm also discovering that I can look forward to the future. Which is nice.

When Camilla was six months old we went to visit my nana, who raised seven children of her own and has always been very loving and supportive of me as a mother. (She reads my blog too. Hi Nana!) (She's also on Facebook, so I'm pretty sure she's the tech-rockingest great-grandmother out there.)

I was confessing to Nana that although I loved my baby, I wasn't really loving babyhood so far. That, in fact, I was looking forward to Camilla growing up, even though everyone said I should cherish her infancy because it would pass so quickly. (It felt both slow and quick to me, but I was happy when it felt quick, because I was finding it impossible to really cherish.)

Nana told me that she, personally, always loved babyhood. Babies are her thing. "But, you know," she said, "I had a friend who found them boring. She'd come over and watch me holding my baby and loving every second of it, and just shake her head because she didn't find that joy in it."

"Then, years later when our kids were in school and all the activities that went along with that, she thrived. I struggled to manage it all, and she couldn't have been happier. She was a great mom, she just wasn't a baby person. We all have our strengths."

I've always felt better about my non-loving of babyhood since then. I've also wondered when I would find the part of the kids-at-hom years that came naturally to me. I'm not fooling myself - I know that I'm an effecitve mother to my babies, that I'm reasonably good at it. After four of them, I've even settled into it pretty well. But I don't love it.

With Camilla in school, I'm finally hitting my stride. It's weird to have her at school all day and still have three little ones at home; it feels like I've got feet in two worlds. Nothing much has changed with Blaise and Linus and Ambrose, but with Camilla it's new and different. And great.

Okay, I'll never love packing lunches, and I could take or leave the nightly "where are all the uniform pieces?" game, but everything else is awesome. The minutiae of it - emails to the teacher, signing the homework sheet, organizing her first not-just-family birthday party - these things are still tasks to be checked off the list, but they're things I enjoy SO MUCH MORE than another brainstorming session about nightweaning.

(In case you're new to this blog: baby sleep is my bugaboo.)

I feel like I am GOOD at managing having a school-aged kid. Beyond all the logistical stuff, I love the conversations with a (nearly) six-year-old person. She's so fun and interesting and it's fun and interesting to be her mom. The other day we had a conversation about purgatory, for heaven's sake! (She was fascinated.) That is so, so much better than the stuff I have to do to keep my babies from hanging off my legs and screaming.

When did you hit your stride as a parent? Are you still waiting for it? Can you imagine what/when it might be?

Got It Good

I've been thinking about privilege lately, and what a big part of life it is.

I'm not talking about monetary privilege, though many privileges are related to financial status. I'm talking about ways in which one's life is easy (by comparison) that escape one's regular notice.

I read a piece recently in which the author talked about the times she wears her baby out of necessity rather than because she likes it. The last example she used was doing chores, and she showed a picture of herself vacuuming with her toddler strapped to her back. She'd rather do chores without the baby, of course, but thank goodness babywearing allows her to get them done at all.

And I grinned and shook my head because here is something I notice all the time since having multiples: Singleton Privilege.

I never BLAME anyone for having Singleton Privilege. I had it myself, back in the day. It is normal that most people have it, and I am happy for them. But nevertheless, it's a privilege: being able to count on getting stuff done when the baby is taken care of, because there is only one baby.

Parents of multiples as well as parents of children tightly spaced together know how awesome the only one baby phenomenon is, but usually not until they don't have it any more. Trust me, I used to feel the burden of my one baby very keenly, so I am never rolling my eyes or judging you for your Singleton Privilege. I just notice it, is all.

I think it's easy to see privileges we don't personally have. I am always noticing how other people have the freedom to sleep through the night or quiet houses or abundant free time or other things that are missing from my life right now, but it's easy for me to overlook my own numerous privileges.

So, okay. What are my privileges? I guess most of them are related to having a strong happy marriage/family and a steady sufficient income, but that plays out in many different ways. I'm wondering how often someone else could look at me and think, "She doesn't know how lucky she is" while I'm over here rolling my eyes at how hard my life feels.

A (non-exhaustive) list of my privileges:

- Healthy Family Privilege. I SAY that I'm aware of this one, but I'm prone to forgetting it regularly. I've seen the way a minor short-term illness requiring hospitalization takes its toll on our family. Dealing with chronic or life-threatening illness? I actually cannot imagine, and I'm grateful for the fact that I don't have to. Health is a HUGE privilege.

- And for that matter, Health Insurance Privilege. So we don't have to worry about going bankrupt if one of us DOES get sick or injured.

- Co-Parent Privilege, in the form of a husband who pulls [more than] his weight. Did you guys know I NEVER (except maybe on Bryan's birthday and Father's Day, or when he's out of town) get up with the children in the morning? Bryan does that, every day. I sleep anywhere from one to two hours after they all get up between 7 and 8am, and he changes morning diapers and feeds them breakfast and deals with all the little morning tasks that make my non-morning-person head pound. Bryan also does a large share of night duty, so he is obviously getting the WAY short end of the stick here, but he doesn't seem to mind.

- I could give a zillion more examples of how I have total Husband Privilege, but he gets kind of embarrassed when I rave about him, so you'll have to take my word for it.

- Two-Car Privilege. I've got a van sitting in the garage that will take my children and me anywhere we need to go anytime we want to go there. We also have money to afford gas. I totally take this one for granted, but I know that if I lost it suddenly I'd miss it dreadfully.

- What I think of as Holiday Logistics Privilege, but it's actually much bigger than that. Both my parents and Bryan's parents are still married to each other. They also live in the same town, a 90-minute drive from here. Everyone is friendly with each other, and they all love us and their grandchildren in an eager, generous, but not stifling way, and honestly it could hardly be easier. We're lucky.

I could go on for pages here about all the ways in which I've got it good (my kids sleep all night in their own beds without nightmares! we live in an area with reasonable cost of living! a school we're excited to send our kids to! enough money for tuition! spousal agreement on family-size/spacing issues! lots of good local restaurants! I could go on indefinitely!) but frankly, I'm feeling overwhelmed enough by my own blessings today.

So. It's your turn.

What are your privileges?

(I'm also totally interested in hearing about what privileges you notice others taking for granted. But try not to, y'know, overdo it.)