Life with Twins

Archive for the ‘Teaching’ Category

I have a Confession…..

NOW: I love Christmas.  There, I said it.

Prior to Thanksgiving I was pretending to be one of those people that dislikes the Christmas decorations being up in the stores already.

So, when Thanksgiving was over, I could finally give in to my true nature.  Phew, what a relief.

Then, I started reading/hearing all kinds of people complaining about Christmas in general…..especially in regards to Santa Claus.  So, I’ve been debating about this post for a while, but I suppose it’s my right to give the other side of the debate.  I don’t think anyone is “wrong” in their beliefs, just like to give my opinion too!

I love Santa.  I believe in Santa.  I truly do, at 30 years old.  Does Santa magically drop presents down the chimney for Tim and I?  No, not technically.  But I believe in him as the spirit of Christmas.  The idea that my twins will wake up on Sunday morning and be in awe of the fact that not only are there presents under the tree……but the milk, cookies, and carrots are mysteriously gone.

I know it’s a lie.  But I suppose I lie to my kids all the time.  Not big lies.  But……when there’s blackberries going bad in the fridge and there’s new bananas on the counter and they ask for bananas and I tell them they’re not ready to eat yet so they’ll just have to make do with blackberries.  Could they eat the bananas, yes.  But I want them to eat the blackberries first.  But they won’t go along with that line of thinking.  So, I tell them the bananas aren’t ready yet and they suddenly become perfectly happy with blackberries.  Just an example.  But I digress.

I try to explain as much to my kids as possible.  Even if anyone else would think they’re too young to understand.  And I tell the truth; I don’t blow them off with a simple answer.  It gives me credibility for when I do stretch the truth.  Plus, I’m a firm believer in asking questions in order to learn.  Even when I have a group of 22 children in front of me all day….each with their own set of questions.  That’s my job; to answer them.

Back to Santa.  Early in November, Will and Ariel saw a commercial featuring the man in the red suit and inquired about it.  I, being the over-explainer, immediately went into a detailed description of Santa, with his sleigh, reindeer, and sack of toys coming down chimneys on Christmas Eve.  I was excited.  Even back in November.  As a result, we they have been talking about Santa for almost two months now.  Not incessently.  But occasionally.  And more so now that the big night is almost here.

<It’s hard to put joy into words.  I think it’s much easier to express negative emotions, so this post might get rambly.  I apologize in advance.>

Santa is magic.  End of story.  Obviously I’m excited because this is the first year where the twins really get what’s going on for Christmas.  If nothing else, they know what presents are for and they are looking forward to recieving some, I’m sure.  But they are also excited about the tree, the ornaments, the decorating, the driving around looking at Christmas lights, the snow (what snow?), the shopping (yay, my kids like to shop!) the making cookies, the holiday movies.  I could go on and on.  

They are just full to the brim of excitement and positive emotion.  Same way my 2nd graders at school feel.  And I like to think that it’s coming partially from me.  They are excited because I am excited.  And I allow myself and them to give in to the excitement.  I don’t pretend Christmas isn’t coming, I embrace it.  And every year I get the same question from my 7-year-olds at school…..is there a Santa Claus?  They are at the brink of not believing.  Others have told them it isn’t true.  But they trust their teacher.  Maybe more than they trust their parents.  Because their parents might tell them the truth if they ask.  Plus, when they’re being egged on by 20 other kids, this seems like the perfect time to inquire.  School is for learning, right? 

And I don’t lie.  I tell them yes.  There is a Santa and I believe in him.  Let me make this clear; I am not lying.  And that’s part of the magic.  They know I’m not lying.  And so do my twins.

When I was little Santa filled my living room with presents.  And my sister and I always made sure to say “Thank you Santa, wherever you are!” while we looked up at the ceiling (because North is up), after we were done opening our gifts.  We were grateful.  Were we grateful to the wrong person?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  Because even though it was technically my parents’ money, and technically my parents (mom) who went out and did the shopping, and technically my parents (mom) who stayed up late into the night wrapping……it was Santa who brought those gifts.  And my parents heard the thank you and took it as their own.

I don’t even remember finding out that mom and dad were buying the gifts all along.  I guess it wasn’t that big of a deal.  I vaguely remember mom telling me not to tell Melissa, 5 years younger than me, and still going strong in her Santa-belief.  I think I kind of felt like I was just in on a secret, not a lie.  How fun it was to keep this secret going year after year…..until eventually most of  the presents were just labeled “from mom and dad”.  But never all.  There were always a couple from Santa.  Even though we “didn’t believe” anymore.  And the pile?  Didn’t get any smaller.  Don’t get me wrong.  My parents were not rich.  My dad worked two jobs so that my mom could stay home with us, and then later when my mom developed back problems and “couldn’t” work (that’s another post for another day).  They were probably living paycheck to paycheck.  But I never would have known it come Christmas morning.  Was I spoiled, yes.  But was I taught how to be rich in Christmas Spirit and thankfulness, yes.

I guess I’m lucky too because there are a lot of factors that don’t make me see “playing Santa” as a chore.  I love shopping, and shopping for the perfect gifts that I know will make my kids’ eyes light up is so rewarding.  It’s not work.  And I loved wrapping this year.  I picked out two different sets of paper and made sure Will and Ariel each had the same amount and wrapped and wrapped.  And the “leftover” gifts that didn’t have a “match”?  They are from mommy and daddy.  And in a third type of wrapping paper.  It was like a puzzle!  Making sure that they each had the same amount of gifts wrapped up.  (That reminds me, I have to figure out somethings to unwrap and rewrap so they each have a gift for each other). 

I guess it just boils down to this; I have fond memories of Christmas and of Santa.  I want my children to have fond memories of Christmas and Santa.  I want them to share in the Christmas Spirit and be merry and cheerful.  Everything Tim and I do with them is an experience that will shape their whole world as they grow up and I guess I just want them to have this wonderful, joyful Christmas/Santa experience.  Even if it is a lot of work.  And technically a lie.

I’m lucky too, in that I have the means to be able to do all of this work to build up the lie.  It’s worth it to me.  Because I love Christmas.   And because I believe in Santa Claus.

Happy Holidays Everyone!  Enjoy your time with yourself, your friends, your family, your joy. 

And your presents…..I know I’m looking forward to opening up my one-piece footie Cookie Monster pajamas from Tim!  (They just better be waiting under the tree and not being saved for my upcoming Birthday!)  This is now.

THEN: (A short one): The twins were born on a Sunday.  I was allowed to stay at the hospital until Thursday morning.  You might think that’s strange….whoever wants to stay in the hospital, right?  But I was glad because that was where my babies were. 

On Wednesday night, before Tim left to go home, I was sobbing.  I thought my heart would break.  He even climbed into the tiny hospital bed and held me.  I had been holding in all of my negative emotions for almost a week….even before they were born.  But now, on the eve of my homecoming, I broke down.

I didn’t want to go home the next morning.  I couldn’t leave them.  It was “bad enough” that they were being taken care of by “other people” but now I got to go home and they didn’t.  It wasn’t fair.  All of my other fears came out….basically…..what if they never came home?  I cried and cried and cried.  And he held me.  And he cried a little too.

A nurse came in.  I stopped right away.  I couldn’t be weak in front of her, she’d think something was wrong.  I told her I was just afraid to leave the twins.  But, she was trained to deal with crying, new moms.  She was afraid it was something worse; I could see it in her eyes.  She left and I knew that she would be sending people to check on me up until I left the next morning.  And maybe even watch me when I came back to visit the twins.  It might be post-partum depression.

I got angry.  Did I not have the right to get a little sad?  After all we had been through?  I was keeping it together and upbeat for a long time!  Didn’t I have the right to cry a little when I didn’t know what I was facing and how long I would have to face it and didn’t know what was going to become of my babies, but just knowing I wasn’t able to be in the same building with them 24/7 anymore?  I just wanted to cry a little.  I just wanted to be held by my husband who was the only one who even came close to understanding.  Was that so wrong?  That was then.

Fun Friday

NOW: Um, I know it’s not Friday.  This post is just a few days late, but there were just other things I really wanted to write about first (like my first 5K!)  It has been so hot here in Buffalo (loving it!) that we have played in the pool almost every day.  On Friday our friends from next door came over to play.  Hannah is almost 3 and the twins just adore her.  Anytime they are in the backyard they go near the fence and call her (Han-nah!!!  Han-nah!!!).  I usually have to redirect them because Hannah has a 2-month old baby brother so they’re not outside as often as we are.  So now, when Hannah’s not out, I tell the twins she’s in the house.  “Mommy, Baby” they inform me.  Right, she’s inside with her mommy and the baby. 

Anyway, Amy walked the kids over on Friday morning and all of the kids were SO excited!  They had so much fun.  Ryan started being a little fussy so Amy popped home for a little bit to feed him.  But Hannah said she’d like to stay and play while her mommy was gone.  I was shocked because she can be a little shy.  She didn’t even seem to care that they were gone.  🙂

It was so cute – Hannah and Ariel had the same bathing suit!  Hannah is so tall though (like her daddy) and she towers over my munchkins even though she’s only a year older.

 

What a difference that year makes though!  Hannah talks in full sentences (the twins are starting to string 2 or 3 words together).  But especially for her.  Hannah pretty much didn’t talk until she was 2.  Her mom and dad were a little nervous but the pediatrician kept reassuring them.  They wouldn’t run any tests or be concerned until she was 2 1/2 and still not talking.  Well, that never happened.  Shortly after her 2nd birthday, she started talking in full sentences!  And repeating everything anyone says!  Amy was asking how I thought she was doing…..I told her the turn-around was simply amazing.  I can’t believe her language skills developed so much, when starting off from so little. 

We’ve been meaning to set up a play-date for a while so hopefully now that this went so well, and I’m off for the summer, we’ll be able to see each other more often.  It’s nice for Amy and I to be able to catch up with each other and compare parenting notes, too!  This is now.

THEN:  Before we knew that the twins were a boy and a girl we had two girl names picked out.  Not because we thought it was two girls, but just because they came easier to us.  I had originally picked out Savannah for a girl.  I love love love lions, and lions live on the Savanna, so I liked that idea.  I also liked Michelle.  Tim liked Savannah better at first.  We decided that if we had two girls, the second would be named Charlotte after Tim’s maternal grandmother.  Any daughter I ever have will have the middle name Rose, so that was already decided, even if they were both girls.

My mom’s middle name is Rose, and she liked it so much she chose it for my middle name also.  Then, my sister was born.  My parents figured the “Rose” thing was a special bond between my mother and I.  I was almost 5 at the time and my feelings might be hurt if there was another girl around with the middle name Rose.  They named her Melissa Sue.  I threw a fit.  Why wasn’t her middle name Rose like mom’s and mine?  They had wanted that name anyway, so when they found out that I wasn’t upset….just the opposite…..they went and legally changed her name to Melissa Rose.  We were the 3 roses.  And all along, Melissa and I agreed that we would carry on this tradition if we ever had daughters of our own.  Even Biscuit’s middle name is Rose (she counts – she’s my dog-daughter). 

Tim was in agreement and both Savannah Rose and Charlotte Rose sounded nice.  Then, Tim kinda changed his mind about Savannah.  Especially when we were looking up baby names and meanings online.  It meant “grassy plain”.  Now, I know a savanna is a grassy plain but you’d think the baby name people would have come up with something more fancy.  So we started to doubt the name Savannah.  He casually remarked that he was surprised I wouldn’t want to name her Ariel.  My favorite Disney movie of all time is The Little Mermaid.  Well I was shocked.  “You’d really let me name her that?  After a cartoon?”  Well, sure, it’s a pretty name.  Well, it was decided.  And just another reason not to tell people the names ahead of time.  Everyone has an opinion and as soon as they heard that name they’d sure have something to say about it!  So Ariel Rose was our first choice and Charlotte Rose was second. 

Once we found out one of them was a boy it really put the pressure on to figure out a boy name.  I couldn’t call Ariel by her name until I knew the boy’s name too.  Long ago, probably before we were married, I had told Tim that our son’s middle name could be after Tim’s grandfather, with whom he had been very close.  From people talking about him, I knew him as Floyd.  That’s what everyone called him.  That’s what I (wrongly) assumed the middle name would be.  But no, Tim insisted.  His grandfather’s real name was Florian.  I wasn’t so sure about that.  But I had promised.  I kept trying to go with Floyd, but he kept insisting, and if it was that important to him I couldn’t say no.

But what about a first name?  3 days after we found out the sexes, we had our answer.  Brackets.  We had so many boy names that we liked that we just couldn’t narrow it down by traditional means.  So, we set up something similar to basketball brackets.  We took turns pitting two names against each other.  We used each choice with the middle name, our last name, the middle and last name together, the name and Ariel together, and nicknames (some names I vetoed just because I didn’t care for the nickname, some because they reminded me of kids at school – LOL).  We each took turns getting rid of a name.  It took us almost 2 hours, but we finally setttled on William (Will for short, but not Bill or Billy).  We were happy.  Ariel Rose and William Florian.  I was happy because I felt like I could finally talk to my belly properly!  That was then.

On His Farm He Had Some Guys, and Princesses; E-I-E-I-O

NOW:  I love this game I made up.  I’m so clever.  The twins have a Fisher-Price farm that you can crawl through.  It makes noises, there’s vegetables (a triangle orange carrot, a circle red radish, and a purple square…?), eggs, a little radio.  It’s cute.  Especially when you’re stuck inside on a rainy day.  Especially when the song starts “Old MacDonald Had a Farm”…..and cuts off…..but your 22-month old daughter chimes in with “e-i-e-i-o” right on cue.

Anyway, the Farm Game.  It gets requests now.  (although farm comes out sounding like arm, so I have to actually be paying attention).

Ariel and Will bring Mommy all the “guys”.  Their word.  All the Sesame Street Characters, plus a few other little stuffed animals that have worked their way into this particular toy box.  Will dumps them in a pile and puts the box back behind the farm.

They now also have included the Disney Princess dolls that they have.  Then, we take turns having the guys and the princesses come to the door of the farm and asking if they can please come in (it teaches manners, too).  One of the twins opens the door, and the guy says thank you, and jumps inside.  They like eating the veggies and eggs.  Whole eggs, I know, it’s weird.

  In fact, here’s Grover now, ready to munch on a nice, tasty egg.  Complete with sound effects; YUM YUM YUM YUM YUM!  After the guy gets put into the farm and eats his (or her) fill, they get put back in their respective toy box.  Great system.  I especially love when it’s Ariel the Little Mermaid’s turn – Will calls her “dister” (sister) because of her name.  Insert AWWWW, here.  And yes, my daughter is named after the Little Mermaid. 

After the farm game they quietly played with the stacking cups and the rings on the stick. 

William will just continuously lift and drop the cups inside each other trying to figure out how to nestle them correctly.  But doesn’t get frustrated. 

Ariel grabbed the rings first.  I layed them all out on the carpet and told her which color to grab first.  She did EVERY ONE!  SHE RECOGNIZES COLORS!!!!!  Blue, green, yellow, orange, red.  Then she started putting them on incorrectly on purpose, and saying “no no no”, removing it, and putting the right one on.  My little buggers amaze me sometimes.  This is now.

THEN:  My second insemination using the injectable drugs was scheduled for  February 6, 2009 ( I remember because it was two days before my birthday).  I had 6 large follicles again.  The nurses questioned whether I wanted to proceed with this many.  It was risky.  I could end up with multiples.  Multiple multiples!  But I had to.  I had to take the chance.  They reminded me again about the possibility of sextuplets, or the chance that if the eggs became fertilized we had the option to do selective reduction.  I understood.  I couldn’t let a whole ‘nother month go by without even doing anything.  Plus, I had already used up my 2 months of injectables recommended by the doctor, so what would happen to me if I didn’t try this time? 

Tim and I took the day off, as usual, for my insemination.  He went with me, as usual.  I don’t know if it was the nurse, or my weirdly curved cervix, or what, but it was the most painful one yet.  She tried and tried and tried to get that little tube in.  She tried a different tube, a stiffer one.  She got another nurse to come help.  By now, I was sweating bullets, trying not to cry, trying to remember to breathe, trying not to say “no, stop, nevermind, I don’t wannna do it anymore”.  Because I had to do it.  I had to have a baby.  Tim stood by my head the entire time, pain on his face because I was in pain.  He asked if I wanted them to stop.  I shook my head violently.  NO.  The stiffer tube finally worked.  It was a little more uncomfortable than normal, but not unbearable.  I laid on the table for my 15 minutes before getting up.  Tim said, maybe it’s like a sign or something, because you had to suffer so much this time.  Maybe.

The nurse told me I shouldn’t exercise or have sex for the next few days.  What?  They didn’t tell us that last time.  She said because the follicles grow SO big with the injectables, there was a chance of them twisting or popping if I did activities that were too vigorous.  She said take it easy for the next couple of weeks if I wanted.  Just to be safe.  And if I didn’t get my period by February 19th, call for bloodwork. 

Tim and I left and went to Panera for breakfast.  We had Asiago cheese bagels with Sun-Dried Tomato spread.  Then we went across the parking lot to The Hallmark Store because I had seen a cute lion on a commercial and Tim wanted to buy it for me.  (I collect lions).  He was pink and red and had a heart-shaped mane for Valentine’s Day.  When you pulled his tail he Yowled and shook.  I think this might be the only Valentine’s Day gift Tim had ever given me.  We don’t usually celebrate Valentine’s Day because it’s so close to my birthday.  (Although, if he’s reading, flowers are always nice!!!). 

Two days later, my parents and sister came over for pizza and cake to celebrate my birthday.  I remember wondering if I was pregnant.  I remember getting my picture taken as they sang “happy birthday” and thinking, maybe I’m pregnant in this picture.  My first picture of my pregnancy.  Maybe.  I thought about it constantly, as usual.  That was then.

Work or Family; can’t it be both?

NOW:  I love my job.  I wouldn’t give it up, unless I could stay off until my kids were in school and then just go back.  But that’s not how it works with teaching.  At least not here.  We have two incomes to pay the bills.  Yes, we do have some luxuries – two new cars, DVC so we can go on vacation, two state-of-the-art grills in my(Tim’s) backyard, a Zoo Membership.  But all of these things benefit our children also. 

Now, that being said, there are some jobs (NOT teaching) that expect that you should just abandon your family if you want to get ahead.  Last year, for the twins’ first birthday, they wanted to send my husband for training in Virginia Beach.  He informed them it was his kids’ first birthday and he couldn’t miss it.  They said that they had missed plenty of birthdays, and especially the first birthday; the children won’t even remember!  Think George Banks from Mary Poppins.  Luckily, Tim has watched Mary Poppins enough to know family comes first and did the training at another time.

Last night, he had to work late.  He’s salaried, but he still has a certain amount he should be getting done and it doesn’t always fit into his 8-4:30 schedule.  Other people stay late.  All.  The.  Time.  Every day!  Even if they have kids!  I suppose maybe their kids go to bed later than 7:00, but still.  I guess it’s harder for me to understand because I don’t have that kind of career.  Tim doesn’t stay late that often because he wants to come home and see the kids (and me, I suppose).  Every so often though, he has to stay late to catch up.  So I was alone with the twins for the evening. 

I was outnumbered.  4 to 1 (you gotta remember the dogs!).  And it was thundering, so Biscuit counted as extra dogs because she did not want to leave my side.  She actually did not want to leave my lap, but I was standing, so she didn’t have a choice.

I did not get many pictures before dinner.  In fact, there are none.  At one point, Ariel was screaming “POO POO” at me….so I checked her diaper.  Nope.  She kept it up, “POO POO, POO POO”, potty?   I couldn’t really say no.  I’m trying to teach her the potty is a good thing.  At the same time, Will really was poopy.  Ariel sat on the potty.  I changed Will’s diaper in the bathroom.  Biscuit was trying to climb in my lap.  Griffin was barking from the living room because the twins had moved the dogs dishes in the doorway and he was trapped.  And I had pots of steaming veggies on the stove top.  Will ran away after his diaper was changed and brought Ariel some books to read on the potty.  He is just SO SWEET, right?  Then he, along with Biscuit, kept trying to climb over where I was blocking the doorway to the bathroom so that they could get in there.  Patience is a virtue.

I was also on my own for dinner. 

Ariel and Will were served sweet potatoes, peas, and blueberry waffles (previously frozen).  I’m good with the microwave and toaster. 

I made myself a veggie burger; added cheese and ketchup and mustard.  We didn’t have any rolls so it’s just on White/Wheat bread (it’s Wegmans brand – it’s like White whole grain or something).  I did toast the bread in the toaster.  I’m high-tech.

I only got to eat half of it though.  Two weeks ago, we fed the twins veggie burgers and they wouldn’t touch it.  When Mommy eats it and they don’t have it, it’s a different story apparently.  So I had mostly bread.  I also warmed up some “stuff”.  It’s mock pierogi to all you Polish people.  (I am Polish, but my mom makes it, and she is not).  We nicknamed it Stuff when I was really little. 

There are many different ways to make Stuff.  All of them bad for you.  My mom’s is the worst.  But it’s like the perfect food.  I was going to ask her to make it on Father’s Day for our cookout, but Tim said that wasn’t a good idea because it’s SO BAD FOR YOU.  So I didn’t ask.  She made it anyway to surprise me.  (I was secretly thrilled!).

It consists of noodles, sauerkraut (see, I am Polish), mushrooms from a can, ground beef (although she probably used 90% fat free – that’s healthy, right?).  And this time – drumroll please – 2 boxes of butter.  No, that is not a typo.  It was made in a big crockpot.  But still.  2 BOXES of BUTTER.  Even in small portions its hard to justify eating this.  Except that it’s so good.  And nostalgic.  I threw the rest of the leftovers out.  I felt so bad, but I knew it was the right thing to do. 

According to the Wii Fit – I lost 2 lbs today!  I had supposedly gained 2 yesterday, so that’s a wash.  This is now.

THEN:  The psychic.  Do you believe in psychics?  I didn’t.  My MIL had gone to one in November 2008.  The psychic apparently knew that her son (Tim) and daughter-in-law were trying to get pregnant and having trouble.  She told my MIL to tell us to not worry.  (Oh, OK, that will work, thanks lady I never met).  She said we’d be pregnant by Valentine’s Day.  As much as I didn’t believe, I didn’t want to believe, and I didn’t want to hope and wait for Valentine’s Day like it was some kind of deadline.  I hoped she was right.  I hoped it was sooner.  I hoped Valentine’s Day wouldn’t come and go with nothing to show for it. 

My second round of injectables was at the end of January.  Mid-January I got a text from my good friend telling me she was finally pregnant.  (A text, I know, I couldn’t believe it either – but she wanted to give me time to digest the news on my own before I actually had to speak to her).  I was so happy.  I’m not lying or remembering wrong.  Happy was my first and strongest emotion.  I was having coffee with another friend and I called Tim right away.  I was so mad she had TEXTED me with this big news.  Was I a little sad for myself?  Yes.  But not more sad that I had been anyway.  And it gave me hope.  If she could try for two years and get pregnant, I could too, right?  It was a little awkward when we saw a bunch of friends towards the end of January.  They all felt sorry for me.  I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me, I wanted them to feel happy for her.  I know they did….they were just concerned about me, too.  That was then.

School

NOW:  I’m going to let Will and Ariel tell about their day.  Anything in quotes is what they said while I was asking them questions and typing.

“Hello”, Mommy is letting “William” and “Ariel” write today because we went to “SCHOOL” yesterday!  We know all about school because mommy teaches there.  We read about “school” in “books”, and we learn about school on Sesame Street with “Elmo”.  But yesterday we got to “GO” there!  “Papa” drove us to mommy’s school.  It’s HER school.  We played on the playground.  We even went on the “slide”.  We wanted to go on the “swing” but the strap was broken.

We walked around with all the “kids” in mommy’s class.  Then we went upstairs to her classroom.  We colored with “crayons” and played with “blocks”, “trucks”, and a “ball”. 

“Bye bye” for now!  Mommy will tell you more. 

A few funny and surprising things……Will is usually very outgoing, Ariel is a little more shy.  But, when it came to those kids, they BOTH just took their hands and let themselves be led away from mommy onto the playground.  Every once in a while, they would ask for me, and the kids would bring them right back, but then they’d be off running around again. 

When we were in the classroom, it was so interesting how ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ they are.  It’s funny how Nature trumps Nurture.  Now, I know we probably do treat them slightly different.  But we didn’t when they were really little.  And we try not to now.  So, here’s a boy and girl raised in the same house, same parents, same age, same TOYS, and yet they have vastly different personalities, characteristics, and gender tendencies.  Ariel probably would have been content to color and sit and hold a stuffed animal.  Will was running around, pushing the trucks, throwing the ball, building with blocks and knocking them down.  It’s really so interesting to see how they are turning out in comparison with one another. 

The kids in my class seemed to have fun with them too.  Some even wrote in their Memory Books that their favorite memory of 2nd grade was when Will and Ariel came in.  Cute.  They were arguing a little about taking turns holding the twins’ hands, but they were very good with them.  Even some kids I wouldn’t have expected.

After school, we went for lunch at Ted’s Hot Dogs.  I was at the counter ordering and paying and the twins were sitting with Papa.  Ariel is quite the little singer lately, and she was singing the “Mama” song…..which consisted of “mama, maaamaaaa, maaamaaa, MAMA, MAAAAMAAAAA” and was pretty much screeching at the end….much to the amusement (thank goodness) of everyone else in the place.

After the kids were in bed Tim and I went back to the Wii Fit.  The last time we were on was about 3 weeks ago.  Tim’s weight stayed the same.  Mine?  I gained 3.3 lbs.  *sigh*  This is now.

THEN:  While Tim and I were trying to get pregnant, he was on a different shift.  He would work Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday 2pm – 11pm.  I’m a teacher, so I was basically getting home a couple hours after he had left.  And believe me, I DO NOT stay up until 11.  I’m usually in bed by 9, especially if he’s not there to make fun of me.  This situation had it’s ups and downs.  The up-side was my exercising and eating.  I would come home from work, do my exercising (at least an hour a day), shower, and eat dinner.  I didn’t have to work around anyone else’s schedule and I didn’t often have any other plans.  On the weekends I would just exercise at my convenience.  Whether he was there or not.  My meals were simpler also.  I don’t cook and I don’t eat as much when he’s not around.  I don’t know why, just how it is.  So, although I would ‘cheat’ (with ice cream sundaes) every once in a while, I was being more healthy, especially with portion control.

The bad part was…..we didn’t see each other much.  Except when we were both taking the day off to go to the fertility clinic or something.  So…..it takes two people to make a baby…..and those two people weren’t together very often.  We had to be creative.  I started going to bed really early, like 8, and when Tim would get home from work he’d wake me up.  That was one option.  Or, he’d go to bed as soon as he got home and I’d set my alarm a little early and wake him up before I would go to work.  That was another option.  It was difficult, but there wasn’t really any way around it at the time.  We tried our best.  Early on, I thought maybe that was the reason we weren’t getting pregnant.  After a while though, it became clear that wasn’t the only reason.  Even with weird schedules and being tired, we were timing everything appropriately and often enough.  But it still wasn’t working.  That was then. 

Question:  Some people at work said they do gain a little weight when they start running.  Do you put on weight when you run?