tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42960161661830870822024-03-13T01:33:01.770-07:00Another Mormon Mommy BlogLindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-73057987485187679312015-02-05T11:21:00.001-08:002015-02-05T13:59:09.535-08:00When God isn't thereI was 13 years old when I had my first major depressive episode. I was younger than my age implies; I was naive. I was innocent. The "worst" thing I had ever done at that point was probably, I don't know, watch MTV even though my parents thought they had blocked the channel. I was raised a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints my entire life and taught Christian values since infancy — values I strove to put into practice even in my young life. I did what Mormons do: I went to church. I said my prayers. I helped my family and tried to love everyone I came in contact with, or at least not hold grudges or get involved in petty disputes. I did my best to follow God's laws and understand what He wanted from me, and I thought was on the right track. In essence, I was "doing everything right." But yet I suffered — oh, how I suffered.<br />
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I remember lying awake for hours at night, praying for my pain to be lifted. It was an anguish so deep that metaphor completely escapes me. It was paralyzing. It was black. It was consuming. I thought, "If God listens, if He really knows and loves all of His children, then He will hear my prayers. He will know that I don't deserve this, that I've done nothing wrong. If I have enough faith He will take this away from me."<br />
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But He didn't.<br />
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Time went on, and sometimes things were better. Sometimes they were worse. As the weeks and months and years went by, somewhere along the line, I decided I'd had enough. But I didn't turn my anger at the depression, at myself, or even the people in my life who couldn't see what I needed them to see, even though I did my best to hide it from the world. No, instead, I got angry at God.<br />
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I often thought of the poem "Footprints," which tells the story of a man walking along the beach with God. He sees footprints marking the path of his life and notices that in his darkest hours, there was just one set of prints, not two. When he asks God why he was abandoned in his time of need, God answers, "It was then I carried you."<br />
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I'd think about this poem and then I'd say to myself, "What a load of crap." Because God wasn't carrying me — He wasn't there, wasn't even with me at all.<br />
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It's been nearly 20 years since that first bleak episode with depression, though I've had many others that have been far worse. Through the decades I have learned so much about life and about God, but the fact still remains: I don't fully understand Him. I don't know what He wants me to do, though I struggle to understand it each and every day. I don't know why He lets bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. I don't know if He curses us or blesses us through trials. I don't know why some people seem to face every obstacle known to man while others seem to sail through life. And I just don't know where He is when it all goes down.<br />
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But of the many, many things that have changed since then, one thing remains the same: No matter how abandoned I have felt, I have never doubted that He is there. Whether He was indifferent or suffering along with me or simply absent I'll never know for sure, but since choosing to believe that God does exist, I have seen evidence of Him even in the worst of times. And now that I'm a parent, I'm starting to understand Him better and better every day.<br />
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Because sometimes, I am not there when my children get hurt. Sometimes I'm not even there when they recover and move on from the fall. I cannot hold their hands and wipe their tears and guide them through every storm, or even rejoice with them through every triumph. It doesn't mean I don't love my children or that I'm not heartbroken when they are; it means I love them fiercely and want them to become <i>more</i>, because it is in those absences that my children find their own strength. They learn what they're made of and what they can do — and what they can't or shouldn't do. They learn resilience, that they can be happy again even after they are consumed with sorrow. They learn that there's always another chance to try again. They learn to trust their inner voice, not just the ones whispering softly or screaming loudly all around them. They are discovering who they are and what they can do, how they fit into the world around them and how to change their world. They are deciding each day who they can and want to be. In the end, these discoveries will give them the ability to trust their own instincts and rely upon their own strength. And I pray that they will be strong, that they will find stability and inner peace. That they will grow.<br />
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Now, I'm starting to think that 13-year-old girl was right all along. God wasn't there. But now I'm starting to think that maybe He chose not to be there. He had to step away and let me fall, again and again and again and again. He had to let me grow strong and find my inner peace. It doesn't mean He doesn't love me; it means He wants me to know who I am, as He does, and what I'm capable of. Then, God lets me decide who I am, and He lets me change when I want to be someone better. I know He has given me the ability to write and the desire to help others. And now, He is letting me change the world in the way that only I can, with all the wisdom I have gained because He wasn't there.<br />
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What's more, I have learned that God's laws and requests don't always protect me from heartache and frustration. I don't believe they were ever fully meant to. But I do know that they provide me with sure footing when I am ready to stand again. They bring the joy more quickly into my life when the world has extinguished it. And they give my children security and my family the peace and stability we need in our home. And for those times when I'm not quite ready to stand, choosing to be a member of my church provides me a community to lean on — a community of imperfect people like me who are struggling to understand God's place in their lives and their place in His. And if we choose to reach out to each other in times of anger and sorrow and frustration and pain, and to be there for others in those same lonely places, we are doing what God needs us to do: be there when He can't.<br />
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<br />Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-2206167825087357282014-09-26T11:10:00.000-07:002014-09-26T11:48:39.225-07:00How to stencil a star-spangled wallI'm back with another finished DIY project, one of my favorites thus far: a black-and-gold, star-spangled feature wall.<br />
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I've had some requests for a little tutorial, so here you go, complete with before and after.<br />
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The before was a boring, blank, "half-wall" that you see right when you walk in the front door.<br />
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It's a total snooze-fest, especially in contrast to the funky decor on the other side of the room:<br />
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And come on, with this dapper dude selling the decor? Perfection.<br />
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I've had my eye on some bold graphic wall treatments for a while, toying with a stark black-and-white geometric pattern. I played around with some ideas using Photoshop, but my kind and tactful Facebook friends unanimously voted them down, saying (more or less) that it was an assault on the eyeballs.<br />
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I still love them, but ... point taken. Then I started seeing a lot of eight-point metallic stars in home decor, and my wheels started turning. I set out to stencil them on my very own living room wall.<br />
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It was quite the project, seeing as how I had to work everything in between my kids' naps, but it was a project so worth doing. Here's how to get the job done, step by step.<br />
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<b>1. Prime. </b>Since I wanted a black wall, I knew the surface beneath had to be completely smooth without any color variations. I used a tinted primer in a deep shade of plum so nothing would show.<br />
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<b>2. Paint. </b>To make the metallic stars pop, I wanted a matte black paint. I used chalkboard paint for that effect, and it worked beautifully. Since I already had a pint of black semi-gloss, I painted it over the primer and under the chalkboard to be sure everything would turn out super dark and smooth. This step was probably unnecessary, since the chalkboard paint covered everything so nicely.<br />
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<b>3. Measure.</b> With a repeating pattern, there is no room for error. Much to my chagrin, I had to face my old nemesis: math. I measured the wall, horizontally and vertically, then figured out how to evenly divide the wall. In this case, it turned out to be every 9 inches, again both horizontally and vertically. Next I got out a long ruler with a level and marked everything out with chalk — convenient, seeing as how I used chalkboard paint. I first drew vertical lines, then made little marks every 9 inches where the stars would go.<br />
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<b>4. Test. </b>I needed a visual cue to let me know that I was on the right track, since I couldn't judge the final product by tic marks alone. I found a graphic of an 8-point star online, printed several and cut them out, then taped them to the wall. It worked beautifully, so I set to work.<br />
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<b>5. Stencil.</b> I bought thick sheets of vellum at the craft store, conveniently located with all the other stenciling materials. I took one of my star cutouts and traced the design on a sheet, then cut it out using an X-acto knife. Using painter's tape, I taped it to the wall at my markings.<br />
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Now here's the tricky part: I had intended to use metallic craft paint because it's cheaper and has a beautiful shiny finish. Sadly, it wouldn't stick to the chalkboard paint. Latex and latex do not mix, and it wiped right off. The professional way to do this is to go to a specialty paint store and have them custom make metallic paint, but with lots of little kids always around, I had no time for that nonsense. So I went the ghetto way: I dug up some spray paint from the garage, sprayed a few squirts into a paper cup, and used a sponge brush to apply it to the wall.<br />
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The end result was gorgeous, but the process was a huge pain in the butt. I had to pop outside each time I filled the cup — which was frequently, because I could only put a few sprays in at a time. I got anywhere from 2-5 stars with 5-8 sprays. Then I'd move the stencil and back out I'd go, spray in the cup, and run back in and paint before it dried. In hindsight it would have taken me less time to drag the kids to Sherwin-Williams, but nevertheless, the job got done.<br />
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After the paint dried, I wiped the wall down one final time to remove the chalk, and finito!<br />
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I can't tell you how much I love this wall. I go in and stare at it several times a day. It just has a feeling to it, and you get that right when you walk into my home. This look probably isn't for everyone, but if you are looking to go bold, you can't go wrong with dark colors and bright metallics.</div>
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In the end it was completely worth the time, and the aggravation was only slight. Without the distractions of children and other duties, you could totally knock this out in a weekend. If you primed Friday night and painted Saturday morning, you could be stenciling by Saturday night and done by Sunday. And totally happy with it until the end of time ... or until you get bored and decide to start all over again.<br />
<br />Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-66879450634677984622014-08-26T21:24:00.002-07:002014-08-31T23:13:17.555-07:00Choosing the Right Time to BloomThere are marigolds in my front yard. Vibrant, hearty, sunshiny marigolds. It's a common enough sight, as this ordinary flower can be found just about anywhere. But my marigolds have taken on a special significance as I've watched them unexpectedly bloom.<br>
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We have two flower beds in the front yard, one up next to the house and one in the middle of the lawn. We added the beds the spring after we first moved in, but it took a little while longer to actually fill them. The flower bed along the house and by the front door is full of bright flowers, lush ground cover, and a weeping Alaskan cedar, my favorite thing in the yard. Almost everything but the tree was donated by a neighbor, who not only gave us the plants but came over and helped us plant them. (Have I ever mentioned how incredible the people in our neighborhood are?) We've done a pretty good job of maintaining this bed, weeding it and keeping the plants trimmed. But the other bed? I'm sorry to say it has been sadly neglected.<br>
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We could never decide what to put in that front flower bed, the one that sits like an island halfway between the house and the street. Several years ago we planted a miniature spruce that we happened to find on sale, and then added a few irises donated by my parents. We also planted some petunias and a small handful of marigolds donated by Aaron's parents. The petunias flourished that summer, but with no other vision for the bed or money to fill it, the rest of the flower bed was left to its own devices.<br>
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Eventually the perennials dried up and died, and gradually the weeds won, choking everything that came out of the ground. Even the spruce was no match for the insidious morning glory. Every now and then we'd work our way through the flower bed, half-heartedly clearing room and adding a plant or two. But in the end, well, we just plain gave up.<br>
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The flower beds really got into a state last summer while I was pregnant, and this year was much of the same. It was on our list of to-do's, but it just never got done. Until a month or two ago, when our neighbors again came to the rescue.<br>
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The Relief Society sisters of the ward descended on our yard with trowels and spades and gardening gloves. Perhaps they took pity on me, the busy mama of twins. Or perhaps they were just tired of our white trash yard bringing the property values down. Either way, their help was exactly what we needed, and in less than an hour the bed was cleared of all weeds — even all traces of morning glory. The spruce could not be saved, but a few indian paintbrush plants finally had room to bloom. And to my great surprise, we found something else in the long-neglected flower bed: marigolds.<br>
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It's been several years since we first planted those hand-me-down blooms, and they haven't been seen since. It wasn't until the suffocating weeds and dead roots were torn up and cleared out that the marigolds surprised us and flourished once again. And flourished they have, with strong stems, hearty leaves, and bright yellow blossoms. Without the petunias crowding them out, they've grown to more than twice the size they were that first summer.<br>
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There is, of course, a metaphor here. There are several, in fact. There's the lovely reminder to bloom where you're planted, or one about needing the help of others to break free and bloom, and perhaps the one about being able to thrive despite the attempt of others who try to hold us down. But the metaphor most resonating with me today is one about choosing the right time to bloom.<br>
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Throughout my life I have always been an overachiever, hungry for stimulating experiences and bursting with energy to try new things, more things, all the things!! This appetite served me well in younger years but inevitably got me into a heap of trouble when my bipolar disorder went unchecked. After a harrowing and painful crash, I spent the next two years rebuilding a life reduced to ashes. My appetite had been checked, though never fully satiated. I had learned to pace myself, somewhat, or at least bide my time.<br>
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Then came marriage and children and the busy life of a full-time mother to three little ones. I find myself in new territory, as I never in all my days expected to fully abandon my career to become a stay-at-home mom. It's a confusing place, even if it were something I'd planned on for years. I constantly find myself torn between hard and harder-to-make choices, mostly about how to spend my time. I still have so many passions I want to pursue, and I still keep a vague hope of resuming my writing career in the not-too-distant future. But when you have a 3-year-old and 7-month-old twins, most of your day is spent feeding and changing and putting to bed and loving those endearing but needy little creatures. From sun up until sun down I give them nearly all of my time, all the while wondering if it's too much or not enough, if I'm spoiling them and neglecting myself or vice versa, only occasionally stopping long enough to pine for all the things I'd rather be doing than changing my 12th diaper of the day.<br>
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I try not to look too longingly at all the passions I've had to let fade. I know in my heart that this is where I am needed, and the work I am doing as a mother is absolutely vital and that this time I spend caring for my children will lay the crucial foundation on which they will base their entire lives. Despite the exhaustion it is incredibly fulfilling, helping me grow in ways I never could have on my own. But it's hard not to mourn the paths I've had to abandon and the journeys I never took. It's even harder to think of the writing career I chose to end right when it started to take off. I worry that my skills will fade and when I choose to return to it (assuming I ever do), I won't have what it takes and the dream will have died. Most of all, I worry that I'm letting the stresses of motherhood drain what precious energy I have left for me at the end of the day and spending my alone time on worthless endeavors instead of following my passions — because if that's true, I have no one to blame but myself. Not motherhood. Not bipolar disorder. Just me.<br>
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That's why, in the midst of all this uncertainty, the marigolds are speaking to me. When I stop to look and listen they say, "Hello, there! Here we are! Did you ever think you'd see us again?" If we were to sit and talk a while I imagine they'd tell me, with grandmotherly wisdom, about choosing the right time to bloom.<br>
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"There will be times," they'd say, "when you'll see the sun and feel the warm air, and your heart will ache with a passionate yearning to go out and meet the spring. But if you sit still a while you'll hear your wisdom coming to you in a whisper, telling you that the time is not right. It will remind you that your roots are too shallow and the weeds above are too thick. It will remind you of the work yet to do and tell you to send your seeds back into the ground, to keep them warm and to wait."<br>
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The marigolds will say to me hazily yet pointedly, as if walking backward through a memory, that no matter how bright the sun may shine, if you know in your soul it's not yet your season, the days ahead may feel cold and dark.<br>
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"You will feel lonely, under-nourished, perhaps even cheated, forgotten while all around you the flowers begin to pop up one by one," they will say. "But then, when your work is done and the sun comes again, when you know it is your time to bloom, how much brighter your blossoms will be! How strong your stems and how deep your roots! To all those who may have forgotten you, how great will be their surprise to see you rise again — vibrant, yes, but grounded, and oh so wise."<br>
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I will nod slowly, thoughtfully, because I'll know what they're saying is true. I know that the season for following my own passions has gone, but it will return again when the time is right. For now I must bury my seeds and set about work of a different kind, one that will strengthen the burgeoning blooms given to my care. I will do my best not to ache for my own bit of sun, for I know that by nourishing the seeds around me, we all will have our time to bloom.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-9022960100528403022014-06-28T14:57:00.001-07:002014-07-08T15:55:21.368-07:00The Truth About Raising TwinsThere are a lot of things people like to tell you about having twins.<br />
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That the next 18 years will be a chaotic blur.<br />
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That you'll always have your hands full.<br />
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That you'll never have time to yourself again and you can kiss who you were goodbye.<br />
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And for some reason, there's always someone who will delight in telling a twin-mom-to-be about her high school friend who had to be on hospital bed rest for the last 6 months of her twin pregnancy, of her sister's neighbor who gained 100 lbs. while pregnant with twins, or her cousin's friend's sorority sister's twins who were such terrors that their bedrooms were stripped down to nothing but bare mattresses on the floor because of the wanton destruction that would ensue every time the boys were left alone together. These kinds of people also like to add statements like, "Wow, I could never be a mom of twins," or, "Better you than me."<br />
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I've heard all this and more in the year since I first found out I was pregnant with twins, and I'll likely keep hearing it for the rest of my days as a Mom of Multiples.<br />
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But here's the thing: This isn't the truth. Not really. And that's why I feel the need to tell you, right here and now, the real truth about raising twins:<br />
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<b>It's not that bad.</b><br />
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<b><i>Really.</i></b><br />
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All you skeptics, hear me out. I'm not glossing over the details to give false hope, or to make any mother feel bad because her twins aren't perfect angelic beings. And I'm not saying that having multiples isn't difficult. It is. But it's not the great curse some people seem to think it is. There are reasons to back up my claim — solid reasons, ones you may not be expecting, so stay with me on this.</div>
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First, let me tell you about reason #1...<br />
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I first <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/07/along-came-miracle.html">found out I was expecting twins</a> when I was 10 weeks along. I was shocked. And delighted. And horrified. And bewildered. And terrified. All that and then some. I'm ever the optimist, but I had heard a million horror stories about life with twins. I just didn't know what to think.<br />
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So I did what I always do when confronted with a problem I don't know how to solve: I turned to books.<br />
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I went to the library and checked out all the books they had on twin pregnancy and raising twins. Some of them were great, like "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Twin-Sense-Sanity-Saving-Raising-Pregnancy-ebook/dp/B001UE74EU/ref=sr_1_27?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1403985739&sr=1-27&keywords=twins">Twin Sense: A Sanity-Saving Guide for Raising Twins — From Pregnancy Through the First Year</a>." Some of them were interesting but not super helpful in the practical sense, like "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Twins-2e-Pregnancy-Birth-First-ebook/dp/B004X2JGXI/ref=sr_1_28?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1403985739&sr=1-28&keywords=twins">Twins: Pregnancy, Birth, and the First Year of Life</a>."<br />
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And then there was "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0312552238/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0312552238&linkCode=as2&tag=janrop08-20">Double Time: How I Survived — And Mostly Thrived — Through the First Three Years of Mothering Twins</a>" by Jane Roper. It was just what I had been looking for: a glimpse at the future, a look at what day-to-day life might be like once my girls were finally here.<br />
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It was nicely written, and at first I could really identify with Jane. She was (is) a writer, and like me she was quite shocked about being pregnant with twins. And, she struggled with depression both before and after her babies were born. As the book went on, it taught me something very important — something the author didn't intend at all, but something far more meaningful to me than any message she had hoped to convey.<br />
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The epiphany came during one chapter in particular about the insanity of having two newly-walking toddlers seeking to destroy anything they can get their pudgy little hands on. The tale was harrowing but silly, really, though it did stress me out to read about one little girl darting toward a vase on the coffee table while the other dove into the dog dish, and then the next thing you know they're both going to blows over a toy piano before wailing at the top of their lungs until being plied with more fishy crackers.<br />
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Then there was the anecdote about taking the girls to the park alone for the first time. They were about 16 months, and the experience was no less harrowing: One daughter began stuffing wood chips into her mouth as the other was about to dive off the side of a 5-foot high play structure, and later the first child tumbled head first off the slide while her sister made a break for it and started running out of the park.<br />
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Reading this reminded me of the day I first took my son to the park when he was around the same age. And though there was just one of him, the story was much the same — misadventure and frustration at every turn, until I finally packed it in and headed home. We didn't go back to the park for several months, not until he was old enough to not go blindly walking off the jungle gym or get seriously hurt by a little tumble down the slide.<br />
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So as I read all this and remembered my own similar tale of woe I caught myself thinking, "Well, that's what you get for taking a child that age to the park."<br />
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And that's when it hit me: These problems aren't <i>twin problems</i>. They're just <i>mom problems</i> — and <i>first-time mom problems</i>, at that. I had <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/05/giving-your-baby-what-it-needs.html">been through this before</a>, and now I know to have the house baby-proofed long before my girls are walking. I know not to leave anything out that would do any harm if digested, or anything that would take more than 2 minutes to clean up after my children have crashed their way through it. I know that answering screams with crackers only begets more screams when the crackers are gone, and I certainly know now not to take my kids to the park by myself until they're old enough to handle it if I can't be there to catch them.<br />
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Suddenly I realized that having twins wasn't going to be that hard. (At least, not as hard as I had first feared.) A lot of it had to do with the fact that I'm not a first-timer anymore, but mostly, my big realization was this: <b>Having two (or more) children doesn't automatically make it harder than having one.</b><br />
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No matter how many children you have, you will still have to learn these lessons by trial and error, just like every mother who has ever gone before you. I<b>t's not the number of children that makes parenting difficult. Being a parent just <i>IS</i> difficult. Period. But we all get through it and come out wiser in the end.</b><br />
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That was the moment I stopped being afraid. After all, I had survived my son's baby and toddler years, and billions of other mothers before me have, as well. Not only that, I learned from all the drama and woe and became a much stronger person and a wiser, more patient mother. Whatever my twins could throw at me, I could handle. If not at first, eventually. And we would all be that much better for it.<br />
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Now, reason #2 takes us back to the beginning, about all those awful twin stories that keep circling around. If I led you to believe that those little anecdotes I shared weren't true, I'm sorry ... because they are. The woman on hospital bed rest for 6 months, the mom who gained 100 lbs., and the holy terror twins with nothing but mattresses and light bulbs in their room are all real people that I know. What I mean to say is, even these real-life events aren't the whole truth about life with twins.<br />
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Each of these things, though dramatic and unpleasant, represent just a moment in time. They are preceded by highs and perhaps followed by more lows, but they are not constant and they don't last forever. Those brave women went on to have healthy babies and get their bodies back. I'm sorry to say that those rambunctious boys are still in that phase today, but they weren't always like this, and they won't be forever. The destructive phase will end and they will turn their energy to other things, like taking apart appliances to see how they work — maybe only slightly less frustrating, but perhaps the beginning of a brilliant engineering career. And after surviving this, I have no doubt that there's nothing their parents can't handle. Take it from me, whose first child screamed like a banshee the whole first year of his life. Now, almost 3 years later, I'm like a zen master when it comes to screaming. It barely even fazes me.<br />
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Please don't misunderstand me: I don't mean that being a mom of twins isn't hard. It is. And then some, boy howdy. But I don't need pity just because I'm a mom of multiples. It's certainly not the hardest thing I've ever been through; not by a long shot. But that's just life. Sometimes my twins are accidentally beating the daylights out of each other, sometimes screaming like a bag of alleycats while my son is stomping and whining for more TV and more crackers.<br />
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But then other times (more often than not), they're smiling and just happy to be with each other and with me.<br />
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The point I'm trying to make is, I'm not cursed because I have twins, and my life isn't infinitely harder because I was given two babies at once. I am infinitely blessed because I was given three children, and I get to be their mother.<br />
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Yes, having twins comes with its own unique challenges that parents of singletons will never experience. Like I said, sometimes it is just plain crazy. But the challenges we face aren't insurmountable obstacles. And let's not forget this truth: <b>Having one child isn't automatically easier than having two.</b> Take it from me, whose sweet baby girls are 10 times easier together than my wily, determined son ever was, and is. (Seriously, <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/02/a-day-in-life.html">I hit the new-baby jackpot</a> with these girls.) But we get through it, and my son has made me the mom I am. Together the three of them will keep testing my patience and increasing my compassion, forever changing my heart and making me far better than anyone I could hope to be on my own.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxaDwiFs2azcLxokUjQWyrNuwGDL5k1mkBEO56XH094tUzgu3B_hCzU-Kb2FOagiPt1Z6dt6V6hob4s5u3hFuKNhiZ9D5KTB2l4xMkG5IH0JnUiclXTt4ByvYKdqahhrVKwrb1lxyCloU/s1600/photo+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxaDwiFs2azcLxokUjQWyrNuwGDL5k1mkBEO56XH094tUzgu3B_hCzU-Kb2FOagiPt1Z6dt6V6hob4s5u3hFuKNhiZ9D5KTB2l4xMkG5IH0JnUiclXTt4ByvYKdqahhrVKwrb1lxyCloU/s1600/photo+(2).JPG" height="320" width="248" /></a></div>
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So Mothers of Multiples, MoMs-to-be, and parents everywhere take heart. Things aren't always as bad as they seem. Who knows; they could be better than you ever thought possible. So smile, grit your teeth if you have to, and cherish this remarkable opportunity to become the mother you never knew you could be.<br />
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Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-69183915676256171102014-06-12T15:00:00.001-07:002014-06-24T17:12:27.825-07:00Emergency kits for families — on the cheap<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
If you're a lifelong Utahn, you've heard the oft-repeated advice to be prepared for a natural disaster. (If you're a Mormon, like I am, you've heard it even more.) Living along the Wasatch Front, we've been told by experts that "The Big One" — a devastating earthquake that could decimate everything in the Salt Lake Valley and beyond — is long overdue. </div>
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Enter the emergency kit.</div>
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You know you should have at least some food and water and a few basic necessities to tide you over should disaster strike. Still, it's intimidating to get started. Just looking at a list of recommended items for a 72-hour emergency kit can send you into a cold sweat as you try to calculate what it will cost. </div>
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While you <i>could</i> spend hundreds of dollars getting every high-quality item on your long wish list, you don't <i>have </i>to. Most of the items you will already have on hand. What you don't have you can get for dirt cheap, and even for free. </div>
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<b>Here's how I put together five emergency kits for my family— two adults, one child, and two babies — quickly and on the cheap.</b></div>
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Keep in mind that I am not an expert, and this is by no means a comprehensive or authoritative list. I am just a mom trying to make sure all will be safely gathered in should disaster strike. So take this for what it is: a little inspiration to help you get your own kits together, and keep a little cash in your pocket while you're at it.</div>
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There are a lot of ways to think about 72-hour kits and the emergencies that might necessitate them. I just think of this: If my house were reduced to a pile of rubble and all utilities were down and stores closed, what would I need to get by? With this in mind, there are three main categories I focused on when assembling my kits: Food/water, hygiene, and comfort. Each family member gets one backpack or bag with their own items. Setting aside food for a moment, let's talk about the rest.</div>
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<b><u>Adult Kits</u></b></h4>
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Here's what's packed for Mom and Dad (details to follow):</div>
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<ul>
<li>First aid kit</li>
<li>Hygiene and toiletry bags</li>
<li>Extra outfit </li>
</ul>
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First, a little comfort mixed with necessity: I included one outfit (a T-shirt, one pair of jeans, and one pair of underwear) as well as a pair of socks and running shoes. I used stuff gathering dust in my closet, but bonus points if you have hiking boots and camping clothes to use, which will be even more useful in a disaster. If you need to purchase any of these items, check your local thrift store. There's no sense spending more than a few dollars on something you probably will never wear, anyway — and if you <i>do</i> need it one day, I guarantee you won't care how you look in it. While I can probably keep wearing the clothes I am in when disaster strikes, you never know what that outfit may entail. I could be coming home from church or lounging around shoeless. You'll want something utilitarian to get you through the first few days post-disaster. </div>
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I spent more effort on the hygiene part of the adult kits, but not very much money. I provided an estimated cost of each component. It's a rough estimate, because many of these items you will already have around the home or you can get them for free or dirt cheap. I just wanted to show that although this looks like a lot of stuff, it didn't cost a lot of money.</div>
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One other note: I put all the small items in plastic bags. This is not only to keep them organized, but to protect them from the elements as well as any spills or leaks. </div>
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First, a <b>mini first aid kit</b>. I have a larger, more complete one with the rest of my emergency stuff, but this is made to go in a personal bag.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTOgMpGfxtrYzAPMONpSuUUQGNb9GT__HC-F5HSGXigohn4mLs8gA3FIMzMkOawbRKc8kaSmUtkTO0lkTZt_mUwUKkCjzcu0QCY-Pw-vWEzl0D9GDvqvCo7fN84O2A_mavlLGgUd97j0/s640/blogger-image-218097832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTOgMpGfxtrYzAPMONpSuUUQGNb9GT__HC-F5HSGXigohn4mLs8gA3FIMzMkOawbRKc8kaSmUtkTO0lkTZt_mUwUKkCjzcu0QCY-Pw-vWEzl0D9GDvqvCo7fN84O2A_mavlLGgUd97j0/s640/blogger-image-218097832.jpg" /></a></div>
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It contains: </div>
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<ul>
<li>Antibiotic ointment</li>
<li>Band-aids</li>
<li>Alcohol swabs</li>
<li>Contact solution</li>
<li>Ibuprofen</li>
<li>Sunscreen</li>
<li>Eye drops</li>
<li>Safety pins</li>
<li>Bug repellant</li>
<li>Prescription medications (we don't have any, but if you need them, be sure to add enough pills for at least 3-7 days)</li>
</ul>
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I had enough items laying around the house to fill this bag because I'm a bit of a hoarder when it comes to toiletry samples. If you don't have them handy, try the dollar store or the travel aisle at the pharmacy. For contact solution, ask your optometrist for a few samples. You can also sometimes get samples of your prescription medications from your doctor. If there are over-the-counter medications that you use frequently, like allergy medication, cough drops, etc., include those as well.</div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $0 - $7</b></div>
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Next, a <b>toiletry bag for Dad</b>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghU2vhKBiavlDBVHf49kBgvus2yavVUYqWCl5xRKDozY4tZoATyPfACdxRN2pBo-ObSrtAI2zIZRWPr1pagHjAmVFPq9cjWrYkTPPMKCli6iglMg_5StlRuhHkUsbIg8gAd9uB5xOuwlA/s640/blogger-image--214811497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghU2vhKBiavlDBVHf49kBgvus2yavVUYqWCl5xRKDozY4tZoATyPfACdxRN2pBo-ObSrtAI2zIZRWPr1pagHjAmVFPq9cjWrYkTPPMKCli6iglMg_5StlRuhHkUsbIg8gAd9uB5xOuwlA/s640/blogger-image--214811497.jpg" /></a></div>
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It contains:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Lotion</li>
<li>Shampoo</li>
<li>Hand sanitizer</li>
<li>Deodorant</li>
<li>Contact case</li>
</ul>
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Again, most of these I had on hand with the exception of deodorant and hand sanitizer, which I bought at the dollar store. To stock up on mini shampoo and the like, take the complementary bottles from your hotel each night the next time you travel or ask your frequent traveler friends to pick you up a few. (They'll give you a new one each day, it's expected, you're not stealing, and you paid for them with the room, for Pete's sake.)</div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $0 - $4</b></div>
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Now a <b>toiletry bag for Mom</b>:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9FWvlJ0AMvtfi-AuVkj4JLKz_kRw9H93F3VGa94o4d8XOpLj2kmylP0AZt7c0WP5ygeZdJ8Q26SraOsWhlCIi1yd9zBFc-zxvQ7P9fJgl_vXQpF_gjQM2h4OmhUuamo8JGv75CNWwBc/s640/blogger-image--1662885051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9FWvlJ0AMvtfi-AuVkj4JLKz_kRw9H93F3VGa94o4d8XOpLj2kmylP0AZt7c0WP5ygeZdJ8Q26SraOsWhlCIi1yd9zBFc-zxvQ7P9fJgl_vXQpF_gjQM2h4OmhUuamo8JGv75CNWwBc/s640/blogger-image--1662885051.jpg" /></a></div>
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The goodies in this bag:</div>
<ul>
<li>Shampoo</li>
<li>Lotion</li>
<li>Hand sanitizer</li>
<li>Deodorant</li>
<li>Contact case</li>
<li>Headband</li>
<li>Bobby pins</li>
<li>Hair clips</li>
<li>Mini hair brush</li>
<li>Glasses</li>
</ul>
When packing your toiletries, don't forget about your hair. The goal is not to worry about being pretty, of course; it's about keeping your hair up and out of your face so you can take care of business. If you're like me and wear contacts, pack an old pair of glasses in case you need to live out of your kit for longer than your contacts will last (or in case you lose or damage one).<br />
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I also packed a plastic bag full of <b>feminine hygiene products</b>, which I didn't feel the need to photograph. Also, while we're on the delicate subject, pack a supply of birth control pills if you need them (you can usually get a sample from your OB so you don't have to fill an extra prescription). I can think of few things worse than dealing with a major disaster during that special time of the month, so the least we can do is be prepared. </div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $0 - $10</b></div>
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Separate from the toiletries are <b>hygiene bags</b>. A note about these: They are probably not absolutely necessary in a 72-hour kit, as we would survive just fine with unbrushed teeth. But cleanliness can help prevent infection in case anyone is injured, and being able to wash and feel clean can go a long way toward better mental health in the midst of an intense situation.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfMvEKsJQDy2egpKCtdj1igPfYf6VhKERLIUmIorqfrySKfX8pJI15ZZgDGbDm49F3cpdGdOuLCmXY9f99DRn4VbfTjuTz97LQKvB1VOxQjniC3QaQOB9RFATkfgMUCvPMEnjeary_EUg/s640/blogger-image--1610279792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfMvEKsJQDy2egpKCtdj1igPfYf6VhKERLIUmIorqfrySKfX8pJI15ZZgDGbDm49F3cpdGdOuLCmXY9f99DRn4VbfTjuTz97LQKvB1VOxQjniC3QaQOB9RFATkfgMUCvPMEnjeary_EUg/s640/blogger-image--1610279792.jpg" /></a></div>
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They contain:</div>
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<ul>
<li>1 washrag</li>
<li>1 bar of soap</li>
<li>Q-tips</li>
<li>Cotton balls</li>
<li>Toothpaste</li>
<li>Toothbrush</li>
<li>Tissues</li>
<li>Lip balm</li>
</ul>
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My local Dollar Tree had these travel dental kits, which came with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and the plastic case. I bought the soap there, too, but everything else I already had. I used old washrags that were headed for the rag pile, but you could also cut up an old towel. I also packed but did not photograph a towel and one roll of toilet paper per person, also in plastic bags.</div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $3 - $6</b></div>
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<b><u>Kid Kits</u></b></h4>
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Small children don't need as much as you think. While you might pack an entire backpack for a trip to the zoo, when it comes down to it, their needs are really quite simple. In an emergency, you need very little to get by.</div>
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My 3-year-old son gets his own <b>kid hygiene and toiletry kit</b>:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDubcnxCz5wDkNFhkt6eUYuI5UykSwlA1EFkn8EYg0GswswzlD8IH3riiWB_FpiFWSlbUta-pPX-wyZAvLjV4hapfVni1F5jbnQo4q4va3eQ-knXcxz81gIB1RRSmBecu9y72f6YJyn4/s640/blogger-image--1633528797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDubcnxCz5wDkNFhkt6eUYuI5UykSwlA1EFkn8EYg0GswswzlD8IH3riiWB_FpiFWSlbUta-pPX-wyZAvLjV4hapfVni1F5jbnQo4q4va3eQ-knXcxz81gIB1RRSmBecu9y72f6YJyn4/s640/blogger-image--1633528797.jpg" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li>Washrag</li>
<li>Bar of soap</li>
<li>Cotton balls</li>
<li>Q-tips</li>
<li>Toothbrush</li>
<li>Toothpaste</li>
<li>Hand sanitizer</li>
<li>Wet wipes</li>
</ul>
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Again, most of the items we had on hand and the rest were purchased at the dollar store. If you have older daughters, you may want to think about including feminine hygiene items even if they have not yet reached that stage. Better to be over-prepared than under.</div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $2 - $5</b></div>
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My son also gets a <b>clothing bag.</b> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0Cm6TasAAuUP5X3zRwvmfVhcb-vTuGhRehrhtrwyRsBi-ropF-wbCjWNlxCQloTEQR30Yhwidit6zCl2DtPbEDyEfU7pj4H7XxX4aiCXfyIGUJzZI4whcNs45xv4UzJUT0kwXAlH7lA/s640/blogger-image-1188469294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0Cm6TasAAuUP5X3zRwvmfVhcb-vTuGhRehrhtrwyRsBi-ropF-wbCjWNlxCQloTEQR30Yhwidit6zCl2DtPbEDyEfU7pj4H7XxX4aiCXfyIGUJzZI4whcNs45xv4UzJUT0kwXAlH7lA/s640/blogger-image-1188469294.jpg" /></a></div>
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It has one of each the following:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Pants</li>
<li>T-shirt</li>
<li>Pajamas</li>
<li>Socks</li>
<li>Underwear</li>
<li>Shoes</li>
</ul>
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I pulled these items straight from his closet, but again, the thrift store is a great place to look if you need something else. You can also ask around for hand-me-downs in your child's size or the next size up. Also, be sure to pack for the correct season. This is a summer kit, but in the fall I will switch the clothes for warmer items in a bigger size. Next spring, I'll switch again for cooler items.</div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $0 - $4</b></div>
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I also added a few <b>"comfort items"</b> for my son. I figured that if we ever have to use our emergency kits, he will have just gone through a pretty traumatic experience. I packed a small box full of little toys and candies as well as a book of nursery rhymes. This is a good place for a few fast food toys that may be cluttering up the toy box.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFuoV5DcaY3-fhMQl6OaYj8aqzO6jQ1lrROVSpXUc6ic4XDSSPsRvnNFtUvFWxZOt3Z9enr3waGIi1lh-9AsNfcBG66HY1ZviQDWP31fjHXu38hufS-fKwVqXEofpQiu_5fkdiomOlTQ/s640/blogger-image-2110731060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFuoV5DcaY3-fhMQl6OaYj8aqzO6jQ1lrROVSpXUc6ic4XDSSPsRvnNFtUvFWxZOt3Z9enr3waGIi1lh-9AsNfcBG66HY1ZviQDWP31fjHXu38hufS-fKwVqXEofpQiu_5fkdiomOlTQ/s640/blogger-image-2110731060.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $0</b></div>
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<h4>
<u>Baby Kits</u></h4>
Packing kits for my 5-month-old twins was most important to me, as they need the most to get by. I started with a <b>feeding kit</b>, since they are bottle fed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPp4IpJGRaHdJ5YJtsxYGTu7o9hEYTMnf_EupUCxk7XehGFY3UuFRphGDMAkbMifIfssqhEhbUIN4I_szcaWBw1RATv1Tvf8JAi3-AV0VfXz4MQiOc10uE7MqrtXTmvTXQyKJWntpcEs/s640/blogger-image--859030069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPp4IpJGRaHdJ5YJtsxYGTu7o9hEYTMnf_EupUCxk7XehGFY3UuFRphGDMAkbMifIfssqhEhbUIN4I_szcaWBw1RATv1Tvf8JAi3-AV0VfXz4MQiOc10uE7MqrtXTmvTXQyKJWntpcEs/s640/blogger-image--859030069.jpg" /></a><br />
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<ul>
<li>Bottles</li>
<li>Formula</li>
<li>Water</li>
<li>Burp rags</li>
</ul>
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Even if you are breastfeeding, I recommend packing a feeding kit since you can't guarantee that your milk supply will hold up under the stress of disaster conditions. The bottles were from Walmart and only cost a few bucks, but you could also pull one or two from your cupboard. The formula pictured here is a collection of all the to-go samples we got from the hospital and in the mail, but I did put a few regular-sized cans of formula with the rest of our emergency items (not pictured). To get a few cans for free, call your pediatrician. Many offices have samples available.<br />
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<b>Estimated cost: $5 - $20</b><br />
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Each baby gets a <b>baby clothing bag</b> with the following:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1XJr0UbmyHsHNRRidCq-WAcfO40bbJa_cIsSdiF1ANIkRoz_i6Tt8fDlmawqKAyXIPz0b6sWsBypwnD5wxWoDXXpnkopMpF0XcGoReX67PweZkhZfvQJweWfpVFKNlDr_p8wMo6q0vQ/s640/blogger-image--1001181618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1XJr0UbmyHsHNRRidCq-WAcfO40bbJa_cIsSdiF1ANIkRoz_i6Tt8fDlmawqKAyXIPz0b6sWsBypwnD5wxWoDXXpnkopMpF0XcGoReX67PweZkhZfvQJweWfpVFKNlDr_p8wMo6q0vQ/s640/blogger-image--1001181618.jpg" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li>2 pairs of pajamas</li>
<li>2 onesies</li>
<li>1 bib</li>
</ul>
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Again, pay attention to size and season. These kits have summer-weight clothes for size 6 months. In the fall I will replace these with long-sleeved shirts and warm pajamas for size 12 months. You can of course take items from your baby's closet, or you can hit up thrift stores or ask for hand-me-downs, which is where many of these items came from.</div>
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<b>Estimated cost: $0 - $5</b></div>
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My girls also get <b>baby hygiene kits:</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92_g2cug99hdo9vs7Cha4CTvxDjj-60JizRp47Jv2I7BlisL-hs4NJDVcq1-V7Mo1lm84soXdUN9ZkqndPcmzJOmWKySxZnx8y7JE9RrhB-NMdluxiuXUE55viSH9UuUrvaOh6S-9B3o/s640/blogger-image--752281914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92_g2cug99hdo9vs7Cha4CTvxDjj-60JizRp47Jv2I7BlisL-hs4NJDVcq1-V7Mo1lm84soXdUN9ZkqndPcmzJOmWKySxZnx8y7JE9RrhB-NMdluxiuXUE55viSH9UuUrvaOh6S-9B3o/s640/blogger-image--752281914.jpg" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li>Cotton balls</li>
<li>Q-tips</li>
<li>Baby shampoo</li>
<li>Washrag</li>
<li>Lotion</li>
</ul>
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Included here are also the comfort items: </div>
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<ul>
<li>Fleece swaddle blanket</li>
<li>Pacifiers</li>
<li>Small toy</li>
</ul>
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<b>Estimated cost: $2 - $7</b></div>
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Last but certainly not least, <b>diapers and wipes</b>. It's a good idea to use diapers that are one size larger than those your baby is currently in, not only because they will be "current" longer and because they will be more absorbent.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS80g1d_fs52g4GKTPaNO3KLDRItpTjqP_9RNH0U3txmU8f3-1igbWIGjcJYeZwD2phud73Ptei79ErnBmjST_TczU1tV2NwBolJJNfv_GaIxd1qTMnFwEg7ocFQ0cSLpoc95P8zldoB0/s640/blogger-image-333514720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS80g1d_fs52g4GKTPaNO3KLDRItpTjqP_9RNH0U3txmU8f3-1igbWIGjcJYeZwD2phud73Ptei79ErnBmjST_TczU1tV2NwBolJJNfv_GaIxd1qTMnFwEg7ocFQ0cSLpoc95P8zldoB0/s640/blogger-image-333514720.jpg" /></a></div>
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I also made a crude attempt at <b>cloth diapers</b>, in case we need to survive for longer than this case of diapers holds out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiou1d43i-tTpCVozujTIJZhQgfTdJ7kY4_4Z6sJuSowU0I_-NZqWaPSFtGE3t2aFEkTyDk3mcpRj2ahyc8eHxU4WXC5w78fZprWW29s5dZ2oMpEz3dVTNd3w0EyzuV5vA4jA5PgsgGtsc/s640/blogger-image-1985308491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiou1d43i-tTpCVozujTIJZhQgfTdJ7kY4_4Z6sJuSowU0I_-NZqWaPSFtGE3t2aFEkTyDk3mcpRj2ahyc8eHxU4WXC5w78fZprWW29s5dZ2oMpEz3dVTNd3w0EyzuV5vA4jA5PgsgGtsc/s640/blogger-image-1985308491.jpg" /></a></div>
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I included:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Bloomers</li>
<li>Cloth diaper inserts</li>
<li>Safety pins</li>
</ul>
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<b>Estimated cost: $5 - $15</b><br />
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<b><u>Emergency Food Items</u></b></h4>
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I did not include food items in each bag because we keep our food together in a separate place. While many people like the ease of individual 72-hour kits, I personally like the flexibility of a communal supply. There are lots of different food items you could use for emergency kits, but since I have the storage space, I like to go with mostly canned foods because they have a long shelf life and require no prep — they can be eaten right out of the can. Just be sure to keep a can opener or two with your supply.</div>
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Here are some of my favorite <b>canned food items</b>:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Fruit (peaches, pears, pineapple)</li>
<li>Vegetables (green beans, corn)</li>
<li>Beans (pinto, black, kidney)</li>
<li>Tuna</li>
<li>Spaghetti-O's</li>
<li>Chili</li>
<li>Soup (not condensed)</li>
</ul>
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For lightweight, easily packed <b>travel foods</b>:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Jerky</li>
<li>Trail mix</li>
<li>Applesauce</li>
<li>Granola bars</li>
<li>Protein bars </li>
<li>MRE's (meals ready to eat, available at army-navy supply stores and emergency stores)</li>
</ul>
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And a few others to round out the food groups:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Crackers</li>
<li>Instant oatmeal</li>
<li>Peanut butter</li>
<li>Ramen noodles</li>
</ul>
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Also, be sure to store <b>lots of water</b> — much more than you think you'll need. Most experts advise <b>one gallon of water per person per day</b>, enough for a minimum of three days (though FEMA recommends enough for a week). You can buy large barrels and water jugs or even used, clean milk gallons or soda bottles and fill with your own tap water, but that water needs to be replaced every few months. I like buying the gallon jugs from the dollar store or grocery store, because they will keep for a bit longer.</div>
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<u>Other Emergency Items</u></h4>
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As I said before, this is far from a comprehensive emergency preparedness list. But to get your own wheels turning, here are a few other items we have stored:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Flashlights</li>
<li>Lanterns</li>
<li>Battery-powered radio</li>
<li>Batteries</li>
<li>Candles</li>
<li>Matches</li>
<li>Garbage bags</li>
<li>Blankets</li>
<li>Sleeping bags</li>
<li>Water purifier bottle</li>
<li>Camp stove</li>
<li>Propane</li>
<li>Tent</li>
<li>Shovel</li>
</ul>
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Just think of an emergency as a three-day camping trip in the elements. Whatever you might need, pack it or have it accessible. If you have babies and small children, don't forget <b>baby carriers/slings and strollers</b>. You don't have to keep them in your emergency kits, but having them easily accessible could be a life saver in case you need to travel by foot.</div>
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<b><u>Storing Your Emergency Essentials</u></b></h4>
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Your emergency kit should be in a place that's easily accessible and ready to go, like on a hook or shelf in the garage or in the trunk of your car. We like keeping ours in the garage or in our camping trailer, which we try to keep fully stocked. If you have camping gear not in a trailer, keep it in one central spot, like a large Rubbermaid container or two. Add your emergency items as needed and you'll have everything together, ready to go.</div>
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<b><u>Keeping Your Supply Up to Date</u></b></h4>
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For us, the biggest challenge is keeping our items up to date because it's hard enough to gather everything in the first place. But food and water need to be rotated, and if you have growing children, their clothes will need to be updated. A good rule of thumb is to update the clothing twice a year (once in the spring and once in the fall) and the food annually. Try to schedule it around a recurring date, such as a holiday or, for your prepared Mormons out there, every general conference in April and October.</div>
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What did I leave out? What are your must-have items, and how do you keep them ready to go?</div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-66852766899756106412014-05-25T13:07:00.002-07:002014-06-05T22:45:25.039-07:00Giving your baby what it needs"I just don't know what he wants."<br />
<br />
It's something new parents say often, usually while throwing their hands up in frustration. The sentiment is harmless enough, and I can definitely sympathize. The first year of my son's life was spent spitting out this phrase in sheer exasperation. Being a new parent is the most mind-blowing, exhausting, utterly befuddling experience I have ever endured. You know in theory what your baby needs, but in actuality? That's something that takes work to figure out.<br />
<br />
There are two types of parents in the world: First-timers, and the rest of us. Yes, it really is that simple. I say this because I recently realized just what it is that separates the two.<br />
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The other night my sister, Casey, was in town and she was helping out my husband and I as we bathed our 3-year-old son and 4-month-old twin daughters. This is no simple affair. To make things more complicated, the babies hadn't napped well that day and were getting pretty cranky. And to top it off, Aaron was selling his truck and had people continually calling, texting, and coming to see it. It was a pretty chaotic night.<br />
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After everyone was bathed, Aaron was putting Evan to bed and I swaddled Sadie and handed her to my sister to be fed while I did the same for Beth. Things did not go well for poor Casey as Sadie fought the bottle and cried pretty much continually. By the time I finished with Beth and put her to sleep, Casey had finally calmed Sadie, but she was no longer swaddled or seemingly interested in the bottle. That's when Casey uttered the phrase, "I just don't know what she wants."<br />
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A lightbulb went on.<br />
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Suddenly I understood that when you're a first-time parent — or not yet a parent, as is the case with my sister — it's all about that four-letter word: "want." Feeling nervous and ill-equipped to care for an infant, we look to the baby for clues as to what it <i>wants</i>. Does it want to be fed? Does it want to be cuddled? Does it want to get out of the crib and play? And then we frantically set off to satisfy those wants in an attempt to soothe the cries of the baby, as well as our own racing hearts and pounding heads.<br />
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What's wrong with this scenario? That word "want." If we looked to fulfill just the wants of anyone else, we would soon realize there's a problem. My son <i>wants</i> to eat chocolate and French fries all day and stay up late watching cartoons. I <i>want </i>to sleep in until 9, also eating chocolate and French fries all day, ignoring the laundry and dishes and staying up late reading books and pretending I'm not on call for when my babies wake to be fed at 5 a.m.<br />
<br />
But this isn't what we <i>need</i>. We <i>need</i> good sleep and healthy food, with the occasional treat thrown in for good measure. We <i>need</i> physical activity and love and silliness and entertainment and mental stimulation and relaxation, but in the right place at the right time in the right amounts.<br />
<br />
It makes sense, then, that trying to figure out what a baby <i>wants</i> is a losing game. Even if a baby was capable of communicating its every desire, we would be crazy to let that baby be in charge. Not only that, but oftentimes, giving a baby what it <i>wants</i> completely contradicts what that baby <i>needs</i>. Here's just one example: Most babies <i>want</i> to be held and rocked all night long, but they <i>need</i> to learn how to fall asleep and stay asleep on their own.<br />
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So it's up to us as parents to understand what our children <i>need</i>, and then fulfill those needs as best as we can.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-IErIqk5iBTwsoay3ekvndIb4pMwCBCCJwpRelt3ojjBggSY3tsG-Ke_kzXsYKam0ZOdfxq8qVd0NKsJQmE8x-Mf78T1QtqEkJVaheQZrl7ObfecAbhyxNbDQqwy449M_7v5nglaG6hg/s1600/BabyNeeds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-IErIqk5iBTwsoay3ekvndIb4pMwCBCCJwpRelt3ojjBggSY3tsG-Ke_kzXsYKam0ZOdfxq8qVd0NKsJQmE8x-Mf78T1QtqEkJVaheQZrl7ObfecAbhyxNbDQqwy449M_7v5nglaG6hg/s1600/BabyNeeds.jpg" height="290" width="400" /></a></div>
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Back to the bathtime scenario... I relieved my sister, re-swaddled Sadie despite her screams of protest, picked her up, and held the bottle in her mouth for a few seconds until she realized, "Oh yeah, I really AM hungry!" And within minutes, she was eating, calm, and on her way to sleep.<br />
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I'm not trying to throw my sister under the bus, here. I am grateful she was there to lend a hand, and I certainly don't blame her for not knowing what Sadie needs and how to fulfill those needs. I'm only trying to illustrate the point that newbies chase down <i>wants</i>, while veterans get down to business and take care of <i>needs</i>.<br />
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It's easy to see how we get sucked into this way of thinking, that we must look to our babies to give them what they want. We are continually told that babies don't come with an instruction manual, and we just have to figure it out as we go along. But I disagree, and say it doesn't have to be like this.<br />
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While we do have to learn on the job, in the trenches, and figure out our own children and their unique needs, we are not left with only the clues our screaming babies leave. There may not be an end-all, be-all encyclopedia on baby raising, but there are a lot of books out there that come pretty close. Then you have the countless magazines, websites and blog posts dedicated to every issue a parent has ever encountered in this modern world, plus advice from friends, family, and complete strangers, offering enough wisdom to help even the most frazzled parent. While I don't think there's ever a one-size-fits-all approach that works for every baby, there's enough collective experience in the world to equip any parent with at least enough tips and tricks to help navigate those tricky parenthood hurdles.<br />
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So, first-timers, educate yourself on basic baby needs, especially when it comes to eating and sleeping. Then do your best to be prepared to meet those needs as they come up. Don't be afraid to ask for advice when you need it, and then get to work to figure out how to help your unique baby best.<br />
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And don't forget that you are in charge of your baby, not the other way around. Give it what it <i>needs</i>, not what it <i>wants</i>.</div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-54724643667275715982014-04-21T13:27:00.001-07:002014-04-22T20:54:39.545-07:00In Defense of Mothers Who SucceedApparently, I'm a mom people love to hate.<br />
<br />
That's according to some random Internet article, "<a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/brianne-mcdonald/2014/04/10-types-of-moms-that-suck/">10 Types of Moms That Suck</a>." I found myself on the list as #6, The Always Chipper and Well-Dressed Mom (I flatter myself), which is followed by the author's explanation of her derision:<br />
<br />
"I hate you. No really, I just... hate you. I'm 100% sure you sold your soul to Satan, or maybe Martha Stewart. Nope, don't even speak to me, I feel more disgusting and unworthy the closer you get."<br />
<br />
Ouch. I shudder to think what the author would say about me if I also told her that my house is pretty much always tidy despite having three youngsters, I have a giant box of busy bags I put together for my son by hand when my twins were less than a month old, I cook dinner from scratch about five days a week, and I'm now 5 lbs. away from my pre-baby weight just three months after I gave birth to two babies, without hitting the gym once.<br />
<br />
Why do I share this with you, my friends and anonymous readers, when to do so opens me up to much ridicule? The very point is that it DOES open me up to ridicule, and I want to go on the record to say that I'm sick of it.<br />
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To be clear, I don't care what people say about me personally. My skin is incredibly thick, I like myself, and a person's hate speaks more about them than the person at which they aim their vitriol.<br />
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And I also don't care what another mom does or doesn't do. If you find yourself wearing the same yoga pants three days in a row, without showering or changing, then so be it. If you use TV as a babysitter more often than you feel is good for your children, have at it. We all do what we have to do to survive motherhood. In this game, I'm quite certain no one is capable of their best even most of the time, and who am I to judge what someone must do in order to make it through this madness.<br />
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What I do care about is the constant bickering and trash-talking that make up the so-called Mommy Wars. It's bad enough to carry around the mommy guilt that comes with the territory, not to mention the near total sacrifice of self that happens when you become a mother. But it's even worse to be a mom in the kind of culture that puts self-loathing on a pedestal while tearing down anyone who dares to succeed and be proud of it.<br />
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It always bothers me when the kind of mommy blogs and articles getting all the attention are the ones that, as one author so eloquently described, manage to be both self-flagellating and smug. They speak of their inadequacies and failures as though this is as good as it's ever going to be, with the kind of woe-is-me bravado that elevates one to the status of Tragic Folk Hero. Don't get me wrong — in my dark motherhood moments I feel as much need to <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/04/all-i-need-to-be.html">bemoan my situation</a> as the next girl, and as women we feel consolation in the bearing of our souls when our burdens are compassionately received.<br />
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What I DO have a problem with is this: the idea that the dark moments and parental failures ARE as good as it's going to get, and anyone who dares rise above them is someone to be reviled.<br />
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Where is the camaraderie in that? Where is the support, the encouragement we so desperately seek in the midst of our failures? What's more, where is the incentive to ever dust ourselves off and try again when to fail is to be glorified and to succeed is to be vilified?<br />
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I am not perfect, nor do I pretend to be. More importantly, I don't do the things I do to put myself on a pedestal, to show off or make other women feel inadequate. I do them because I want to create a happy family and a happy home, and this is how I set out to achieve it. Moreover, I feel a great source of satisfaction in a job well done, in setting the bar high and accomplishing what I set out to achieve. It's just the type of person I am, and always have been — and hopefully always will be.<br />
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I also don't feel the need to lower the bar to make my life more palatable to others. On the contrary: I would love, more than anything, to inspire someone else to try a little harder, in any way that's meaningful to them. I want this because I've been inspired by so many other moms who, like me, refuse to give into the insecurity and sadness that can so easily creep into the life of a stay-at-home mom.<br />
<br />
When I was a first-time mom I was hit pretty hard with postpartum depression. There I sat, in my ratty old pajamas and in tears, desperately trying to soothe a baby who screamed for hours and hours on end. I looked at my new life and thought, "Is this really all there is?"<br />
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If I had only listened to the woe-is-me voices who said there is nothing more to aspire to, I would still be stuck in a fog of depression, dirty yoga pants and all. But luckily, I met some mothers who said no, this isn't the end of your life. You can do more, when you're ready, and you can have a full, happy life as a mom. So that's what I set off to achieve, in my own way and in my own time. And I am happy — yes, happy, with a crazy 3-year-old boy and sweet but demanding 3-month-old twin girls. And I'm proud of that.<br />
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Just for the record, I am always chipper because I have chosen to embrace my role as a mother, not bemoan the ways my life has changed. I am chipper because I have battled my way out of a depression that doctors told me would rule my life, and there is no way I'm going to let momentary frustration derail my progress and take me back to that deep, dark place. I am well-dressed because fashion is a hobby I've always had, and dressing with my own sense of style (even when I have nowhere to go) helps me remember the person I am, not just the mom I've become.<br />
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My house is always tidy because a clean home makes me feel at peace, and so I work my butt off to keep it that way. I put together busy bags for my son as a labor of love, because I wanted to ease the transition from being an only child to a big brother to twin sisters and give him something to look forward to when Mommy can't be with him. I cook dinner from scratch because it's healthier and cheaper, and it's also probably why I was able to keep my pregnancy weight within a healthy range as well as slim down so quickly after the birth of my children.<br />
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Still, this is only part of the story. Although my house is clutter-free, it's been weeks since I've cleaned a bathroom and even longer since I've vacuumed because I simply can't do it all. After the first week or two my son hasn't touched his busy bags and spends most of his days whining for more TV, and would probably sit on the couch all day every day if I let him. My home-cooked meals are incredibly simple and even a little boring, and if I had the money I'd be eating out a lot more than is good for me. And even though I'm almost to my pre-pregnancy weight, I am still about 20 lbs. heavier than is healthy for my height, not to mention the fact that I have the stretch marks and sagging skin that prove I carried children to term, and more than one at a time.<br />
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But that's the last you'll hear of my shortcomings — not because I don't want anyone to know the dirty truth, but because I choose to focus on my successes, not my failures.<br />
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And anyway, it really doesn't matter what I do or don't do. These are just the things I choose to do for me and my family, and everyone's priorities and strengths are different. Our particular talents should be what make us unique and help us take satisfaction in our motherhood, and our differences should allow us to stand as an example to other mothers who want to try things a little differently, not as a target for those who are less than happy with their own stressful situations.<br />
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So, bickering mommies, hate me if you must. Choose to stay at your low points and use your energy to tear down others instead of building the life you really want for yourself and your families. I choose to ignore my flaws and be proud of my strengths, and no amount of trash-talking is going to stop me from doing my best.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-65005469233319930702014-04-10T13:57:00.002-07:002014-04-22T12:57:08.414-07:00A Whole Lot o' DIYWhen I'm not being Mommy, I like to gussy up the house a bit with some DIY projects. That's mostly because DIY is all I have the budget for. In my wildest dreams my house would be far more colorful and polished than it currently is. But, not being one to mope for long, I forget about the fantasy and go about making my home as beautiful as I can with the limits that I have. And in the end, isn't it better to work with your hands than pay someone else to do it anyway?<br />
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I had always intended to make each of these projects a single post. But since children currently take up most of my time, I'm just gonna get them all out of the way here. So here it comes, a whole lotta DIY.<br />
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<b>Front Door</b><br />
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My front door was less than welcoming.<br />
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Like everything else in this house (the carpet, the cabinetry, the walls) the door and the door jamb were brown. A dark, depressing, soul-sucking brown.</div>
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Last spring I had finally had enough, so I set to work painting it a bright, happy color. I'm sorry to say that for about six weeks, it looked like this.<br />
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That's what being newly pregnant with twins will do to ya: Put everything else in your life on hold. But once I got over most of the morning sickness, Aaron took the door down and we finished the job. He also replaced the brass door handle for brushed nickel, and added a fancy knocker.</div>
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The color was mixed wrong and I had to go back to the store to get it fixed. When I came home with the wrong color AGAIN, I said forget it and just went ahead with the shade, a bit deeper and bolder than I had initially chosen. Still, it does the job. Welcome!</div>
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<b>Dresser</b><br />
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A while ago my aunt and uncle were giving away some old furniture. I remembered this gorgeous dresser from when I was a child and jumped at the chance to take it home.<br />
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It has a stunning shape and beautiful details, but the poor thing had seen better days. Because the piece was not solid wood, sanding and re-staining it was sadly not an option.<br />
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But not to worry. I busted out the paint again and made it a happy mint green.<br />
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Here it is before the hardware, at home in the kitchen where it stood in for a sideboard or hutch and held table linens and the like.</div>
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And after the hardware, with a slightly different vignette adorning the top.</div>
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Now, it lives in my baby girls' room.</div>
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<b>Pendant lights</b><br />
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While perusing a furniture store ages ago, I saw this fun and funky pendant light.<br />
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With a price tag north of $80, taking it home with me was out of the question. But the image stayed with me, so a few months — maybe even a year — later I came across these bird cages at a home decor store.<br />
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At just $10 apiece, I knew I could finally afford the pendant lights I had envisioned to hang above the kitchen island. I just had to convince my husband to get on board with the project, since I have no electrical knowledge and needed him to take things from there. Luckily, he's awesome and agreed.<br />
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We bought two pendant light kits from the hardware store at around $17 a piece, and a length of chain. The kitchen has dated track lighting already installed above the island, which I don't love.<br />
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But it actually turned out to be the easiest thing for this project, because the pendant light kits simply snap into the track.<br />
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Here's how we assembled the light: Aaron cut the top part off the cage to make room for the lights. He spray painted the cord and the chain black to match the cage, then threaded the cord through the chain. He attached the pendant to the top of the cage, then we added Edison bulbs. He plugged the light into the track, and voila!<br />
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Light!</div>
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It almost makes me forget about the golden oak cabinets that one day I WILL paint white. One day...<br />
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<b>Rustic Mirror</b></div>
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For the longest time I had this mirror, long and plain and boring. Probably a relic from my dorm days. I don't have a before photo, but it looked a little something like this, minus the frame.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICu-BNHckrNT07nYYWyTD_mYI1RmSlPv_wGyVv_Ducyb1lFLNmcrInvBCL8kkCYnJK0B5RJ9kqMB3zBdYOsRvCImZtZV_CBHfQJseKRjaV4YMFV9-W72jQTR18o5ju1HSf5GX1R5-9Es/s1600/13191932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICu-BNHckrNT07nYYWyTD_mYI1RmSlPv_wGyVv_Ducyb1lFLNmcrInvBCL8kkCYnJK0B5RJ9kqMB3zBdYOsRvCImZtZV_CBHfQJseKRjaV4YMFV9-W72jQTR18o5ju1HSf5GX1R5-9Es/s1600/13191932.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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While watching HGTV one day I saw a rustic mirror with a wooden frame and heavy hardware, and I was inspired. But credit where it's due: My husband is entirely to thank for this project. I did nothing but buy the hardware and tell him what I wanted the mirror to look like. He did the rest...<br />
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Spray painting the carriage bolts...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBhFY7diASrzwsSzM-jaidIt7dSsKJ4z3-aMbUbTWY5nT55Rf_6he6wiR0OGxDtrOfCTDL7tohHIGnlzMA5-Y6Ykpx_W05vukHGu-IuNuDlMgo0gxgFXYld7QgTzbtI8oJd0y7X0UAJM0/s1600/IMG_4294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBhFY7diASrzwsSzM-jaidIt7dSsKJ4z3-aMbUbTWY5nT55Rf_6he6wiR0OGxDtrOfCTDL7tohHIGnlzMA5-Y6Ykpx_W05vukHGu-IuNuDlMgo0gxgFXYld7QgTzbtI8oJd0y7X0UAJM0/s1600/IMG_4294.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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And the flat L-brackets.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpaOXJ88uCQts3k5blia31V32ZT2gZCdiMo8raFbBXI1kAd2jupZWQBovAnnpKSW7mAchMiUY5S51cchY2QNeaCQ5C86o0kL5jVyKTKZOOo1KmB3s5BdgxBNbrR_13x5z-LzLN9lqKr7s/s1600/IMG_4295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpaOXJ88uCQts3k5blia31V32ZT2gZCdiMo8raFbBXI1kAd2jupZWQBovAnnpKSW7mAchMiUY5S51cchY2QNeaCQ5C86o0kL5jVyKTKZOOo1KmB3s5BdgxBNbrR_13x5z-LzLN9lqKr7s/s1600/IMG_4295.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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He distressed and stained the wood for the frame, cut it to size, and attached it to the mirror using more flat brackets.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBOtbHea8dM_bsOljqm_hLrQHYIcly56qcISLbRK_dvTcowmJbfFU-7sy0Z5W_w9t-daT63oxGQfAk0QejMoTcT8Mh3U58C-pRyPBQDl49q1oqvXEAxu2rKxCA6ZMJd1y6hPlLf-sVPcg/s1600/IMG_4310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBOtbHea8dM_bsOljqm_hLrQHYIcly56qcISLbRK_dvTcowmJbfFU-7sy0Z5W_w9t-daT63oxGQfAk0QejMoTcT8Mh3U58C-pRyPBQDl49q1oqvXEAxu2rKxCA6ZMJd1y6hPlLf-sVPcg/s1600/IMG_4310.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1S8uMN8CDcgVwsuQawPtWJpK964UTPWPMnGg7y-dsdbwjDCCsrZjIkUQTdiYRbBgfiej6AKgRY6u00wmhgfHbSciT9iuSK1ym7VfNFfAjGJmVm_u6-S2kWgGxAsVRUuVkC5m4ftS7nA/s1600/IMG_4314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1S8uMN8CDcgVwsuQawPtWJpK964UTPWPMnGg7y-dsdbwjDCCsrZjIkUQTdiYRbBgfiej6AKgRY6u00wmhgfHbSciT9iuSK1ym7VfNFfAjGJmVm_u6-S2kWgGxAsVRUuVkC5m4ftS7nA/s1600/IMG_4314.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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Behold, the finished product:</div>
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<i>(Pardon my poor camera work, but how do you photograph a mirror decently?)</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPdiLa4RphJGZF6xL4yfUCFS0GtErVfWCaKP-RZ_GDy_GNThhFuqq_oQgac7DzuagTQf8X_LH0Huhz6cVFTGX2r8A1YxWfmkDqfTfug5hyphenhyphenenk-MAQfi_HmtPwBn6-hnGJtmcadin1_8A/s1600/CIMG1326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPdiLa4RphJGZF6xL4yfUCFS0GtErVfWCaKP-RZ_GDy_GNThhFuqq_oQgac7DzuagTQf8X_LH0Huhz6cVFTGX2r8A1YxWfmkDqfTfug5hyphenhyphenenk-MAQfi_HmtPwBn6-hnGJtmcadin1_8A/s1600/CIMG1326.jpg" height="323" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0t1l9OJD_gCecx2wESJczQWl9g7LWFQE_ViJy7vo3u-gHjupO2_PIR0fwUSRpTQMvtRv5x9VIe4tH-AyOsttPU0GHY0i9XF3yxJsxaVbvPW6FmIcei7ShKAoObj4Xunj9e_FYro3tYas/s1600/CIMG1328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0t1l9OJD_gCecx2wESJczQWl9g7LWFQE_ViJy7vo3u-gHjupO2_PIR0fwUSRpTQMvtRv5x9VIe4tH-AyOsttPU0GHY0i9XF3yxJsxaVbvPW6FmIcei7ShKAoObj4Xunj9e_FYro3tYas/s1600/CIMG1328.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPXu1cWOXKD_OFKB06bE8SD6gVwZCi60wd_zJtAS6Z1NxB-2K8UWmWwpFNH9kcupm_bE4TpolzHFmhc9WdQ6p-c0BflXPqwTxVlScka13h9MNJ60VE697gfporEyNf35wT0tkGC-BqoE/s1600/CIMG1327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPXu1cWOXKD_OFKB06bE8SD6gVwZCi60wd_zJtAS6Z1NxB-2K8UWmWwpFNH9kcupm_bE4TpolzHFmhc9WdQ6p-c0BflXPqwTxVlScka13h9MNJ60VE697gfporEyNf35wT0tkGC-BqoE/s1600/CIMG1327.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Once again, Aaron created a finished product that perfectly matches my vision. What a gem.<br />
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<b>Master Bedding</b><br />
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Remember the <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/02/makeover-1-reclaimed-wood-wall.html">stunning pallet wall</a> my husband installed a few years ago?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQYKLS9fDU-lSvq5p3UgYqg138HF40gswrd6IFkSDH71FTvU2VUFZKwTEfBqJ1_xUmVxePUw1LN6xl8v5OG485z2ID2WYR1tjrmPvi8bTskbJXPpAI5bXZG3Y9nAeZb40E1oixAzjt28/s1600/IMG_2790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQYKLS9fDU-lSvq5p3UgYqg138HF40gswrd6IFkSDH71FTvU2VUFZKwTEfBqJ1_xUmVxePUw1LN6xl8v5OG485z2ID2WYR1tjrmPvi8bTskbJXPpAI5bXZG3Y9nAeZb40E1oixAzjt28/s1600/IMG_2790.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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I absolutely love it, but the bedding was just not doing it any justice. I adore the faux fur bedspread, but with the new wall it just added to the sea of brown that covers my house. I tried to mix things up with various pillows, but I just couldn't figure out how to get away from that awful brown.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYYkjpQ_RGpbKzb4RzxMP4ApvcJxSUsHM6muuK0LG4NGl_dfHAdey_aPplW6ghjk361_hMJ0RpKnr3NgWI1UuHbxFlxCIpImqpALTKS_ITy3g060kKBFKBwV_mEvVliJyHKiBbLjCbn0/s1600/IMG_3694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYYkjpQ_RGpbKzb4RzxMP4ApvcJxSUsHM6muuK0LG4NGl_dfHAdey_aPplW6ghjk361_hMJ0RpKnr3NgWI1UuHbxFlxCIpImqpALTKS_ITy3g060kKBFKBwV_mEvVliJyHKiBbLjCbn0/s1600/IMG_3694.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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At least Evan liked the bed. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFprHJZxz0nQVmX9qsG1Hgkj4tcnGZM-IQZ495k2hl20PS6IXlnr-uCw7GAgwmz23Etaqsg1kgG20MyCvDFsfebDE_OaJkzVJ0ZSVxw8vj_YAyxrlF78nozXGst3a8DFrAMgHK7KiuPgo/s1600/IMG_3318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFprHJZxz0nQVmX9qsG1Hgkj4tcnGZM-IQZ495k2hl20PS6IXlnr-uCw7GAgwmz23Etaqsg1kgG20MyCvDFsfebDE_OaJkzVJ0ZSVxw8vj_YAyxrlF78nozXGst3a8DFrAMgHK7KiuPgo/s1600/IMG_3318.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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<i>(Look how little he is! And I never thought I'd miss that blasted binky on his cute little face.)</i></div>
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I even bought some ikat hexagon fabric I loved, which matched the wall ... just a little too well. The brown was too much.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsMGmXotVPO20E0fCW91HPaR8MrKChE5et1IEtV5xBqNr8XZb0w7gtQ2SlvjSjhTs1fjKOzQ2aX04BXDFsi_Bban2f94huxpSqFiAl9b6vH41ahGm7ZHNOfzkwvrDsqS2Af1hB5vO8Ho/s1600/IMG_4080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGsMGmXotVPO20E0fCW91HPaR8MrKChE5et1IEtV5xBqNr8XZb0w7gtQ2SlvjSjhTs1fjKOzQ2aX04BXDFsi_Bban2f94huxpSqFiAl9b6vH41ahGm7ZHNOfzkwvrDsqS2Af1hB5vO8Ho/s1600/IMG_4080.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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And then I found this. I'm no camo-loving hunter by any means, but this stag print spoke to me. It struck me as sort of funny, though I'm not sure why. So I took a total departure from the brown.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsE8hIAJiY8fy5IwkZwV5W-scWwmH2evWkjK_JHHdpfkoVwUuYiSVE1w80kwZl68-QJtQPF8yxXlMmzaSmt495raoIwTLQy53G-XGTVVswBEvUVNH2Jy4-9APPs-lTe4p7DplGD3j-DY/s1600/IMG_4467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXsE8hIAJiY8fy5IwkZwV5W-scWwmH2evWkjK_JHHdpfkoVwUuYiSVE1w80kwZl68-QJtQPF8yxXlMmzaSmt495raoIwTLQy53G-XGTVVswBEvUVNH2Jy4-9APPs-lTe4p7DplGD3j-DY/s1600/IMG_4467.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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I enlisted the help of my talented grandmother, who sewed some new pillow shams to go with the green bedspread I bought for a steal.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirdW4B4yINhZ67CDIFW0AanoQ4LgQvKbDf-umlJ_Ea06YiJ42LbYSfZ8vITqJ_qprwZEoAQ00-uqTyTIW-vqJVN8x2Z6FQtMbEJuGIChgiMEjbl18xSpw6LxJBwYFymZeBfRUqloKAd7k/s1600/CIMG1329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirdW4B4yINhZ67CDIFW0AanoQ4LgQvKbDf-umlJ_Ea06YiJ42LbYSfZ8vITqJ_qprwZEoAQ00-uqTyTIW-vqJVN8x2Z6FQtMbEJuGIChgiMEjbl18xSpw6LxJBwYFymZeBfRUqloKAd7k/s1600/CIMG1329.jpg" height="640" width="473" /></a></div>
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And now I LOVE my master bed!!</div>
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<i>(Psst, notice the bench? It's the sister to the mint green dresser, only in its original state. We got the best of both worlds.)</i></div>
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That's it for today's DIY roundup, which was three years in the making. There's only one more before-and-after to share: the twins' nursery. It's a big one, so I'll save that for another day.</div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-84307885460459527712014-04-01T10:39:00.001-07:002014-04-01T10:46:23.116-07:00All I Need to BeMost days, I just don't want to be a mother.<br />
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It's not all the time, not all day long. But truthfully, hardly a day goes by that I don't at least once, at least briefly, wish I were anywhere but here.<br />
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It's hard to put my finger on why, exactly, though a strong case could be made for the screaming, stomping, toy-throwing tantrums my 3-year-old frequently engages in. It's not the lonely, boring, isolated life as a stay-at-home mom, for I've always done quite well on my own — maybe even better than when I'm surrounded by others. It's not even the monotony of the same old jammie changing, dishwasher loading, bum wiping, sandwich making, toy cleaning, errand running, dinner cooking, never-ending daily routine that is motherhood.<br />
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It might be that the payoffs seem few and far between. It might be the jealousy I feel when my son is pure sunshine, an absolute joy and delight, for everyone but me. It might be the frustration that no matter how hard I try or what I do, ultimately my children will grow up to be who they will be, for better or worse, making my constant efforts feel like a waste of time.<br />
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But I think that most likely, it's the inexpressible weight of being needed, truly <i>needed</i>, every minute of every day. While my twins have been infinitely easier than I imagined, having two babies is still so very much work. Now, there are three human beings who depend on me for survival. Unless fate smiles upon us and I manage to get them all napping at the exact same time, there is not a moment in the day that I am not called upon to do something for someone, with some tasks more crucial and urgent than others. Some moms may handle this better than I, but I'm not there yet. To say it's exhausting is an understatement. It is utterly draining. Everything I am and have are given away, every single day, without fail.<br />
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And yet...<br />
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Something happens when I look into my children's eyes. Something magical.<br />
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It's so potent but so hard to describe. There's an energy, a powerful, life-affirming force that flows from my children in their peaceful, quiet moments. And when I look in their eyes, they are sending it directly into me.<br />
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When I hold my little ones and cuddle them close, they look at me and say without words, "You are everything." In them I can see such infinite love it is almost too much to take in. This love tells me that just being there, in that moment and in their lives, I am all I need to be. At the same time, it also tells me of the limitless potential I have and can yet grow to attain as their mother. It is as though God is in their eyes speaking to me, saying, "You are where I want you to be. Stay here, be present, and you will become all you ever wanted to be and more."<br />
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I wish I knew how to make that feeling last. Perhaps the answer is to cuddle them more and do dishes less. Or maybe I just need to truly believe what I see and hear when we are in that moment, to trust that this love is always there even when toys are flying and screams are plentiful — that <i>my</i> love is there, and that it <i>is</i> enough.<br />
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<i>"To love another person is to see the face of God."</i></div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-78879717237183369972014-03-13T11:35:00.001-07:002014-03-13T11:43:09.532-07:00The Story of UsSeven years ago today, this happened:<br />
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But our story goes beyond this day, March 13, 2007, when we were sealed for time and eternity. It all started when this boy met this girl...</div>
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It was Labor Day weekend, 2005. I had just joined a little website called MySpace. Don't laugh — this was the very beginning of social media, when MySpace was the cool new thing, Facebook was only for college students, and Twitter hadn't even been invented yet.</div>
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Anyway. The weekend was winding down and I was bored, so I started playing around with my profile and the website when I discovered you could search for people in your area. Up popped a picture of this skateboarding boy from South Jordan.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jrmLZLihhCqRJhyphenhyphena3OWcR2rm_OzmW_K3QpTqvYHLvtJWVMHbLDtFcq1fsJB1IFhU_Ir9LZY3Uu-PvhcHtOrQLGMA3CRhzuxBEn8edB8LuG5HgVPVyee_1rsOoW1HKwc9cB4JuChHMAc/s1600/3861_83288127131_4927232_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jrmLZLihhCqRJhyphenhyphena3OWcR2rm_OzmW_K3QpTqvYHLvtJWVMHbLDtFcq1fsJB1IFhU_Ir9LZY3Uu-PvhcHtOrQLGMA3CRhzuxBEn8edB8LuG5HgVPVyee_1rsOoW1HKwc9cB4JuChHMAc/s1600/3861_83288127131_4927232_n.jpg" height="210" width="320" /></a></div>
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According to his profile, he liked just about every band I loved, and he was online right that minute. So I messaged him.</div>
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"What are you listening to?"</div>
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Five little words, that's all it took. We were off and running.</div>
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We messaged back and forth for hours, moving beyond surface stuff to the things we were working to put in our pasts: him, a cheating ex-wife, and me, a nervous breakdown that led to a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. For me, the old cliche held true: It was as if I'd known him all my life. I wanted to meet.<br />
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We exchanged phone numbers and ended our chat. It was around 1 or 2 in the morning, and although I knew we both felt a connection I suddenly wondered if he had given me his real number or blown me off. So I called him, right then and there. He answered, and we talked for another hour.<br />
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Two days later we met for our first date, dinner at the Olive Garden (a public place with tons of people where I couldn't be attacked by some random internet stranger, right?). I got there first and began the 20-minute wait alone. Just a minute or two later he walked through the door, and I instantly knew it was him. If our life was an '80s movie, it would look something like this:<br />
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<i>I sit alone in a crowded restaurant lobby. People rush in and out the door, but when he enters I know it's him. The double doors simultaneously swing wide. Through the sun I see a silhouette, strong, confident. He walks through, as if in slow motion. Over the cacophony of patrons chatting, a hostess barking out "Johnson, party of 4," and the standard Olive Garden Rat Pack soundtrack I distinctly hear the synthesized symphonic sounds of Cutting Crew's "I Just Died In Your Arms." We make eye contract through the crowd and time stands still. In that moment we know we're going to spend the rest of our lives together.</i></blockquote>
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OK, so it didn't really happen like that. What did happen was this: I only waited alone for a few minutes, but that's all it took for me to suddenly get uncharacteristically nervous. Then he walked in the doors with the sun framing his silhouette (that part <i>did</i> happen). He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and threw me a casual (maybe nervous?) smile. We said hello and I told him we had about 20 minutes to wait. Then I thought to myself, "If we can't get a decent conversation going within 5 minutes, I'm gone."<br />
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And then he complimented me on my shoes. I was smitten.<br />
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We talked the night away — which, as anyone who has ever met us knows, is not surprising for us. But to me, it was. I thought, "There is no way I just met my soulmate. Not now." I was still recovering from that nervous breakdown and trying to figure out what having bipolar disorder meant for me and my future. I had just gotten out of an on-again, off-again relationship of two years — <i>just</i> gotten out, like two weeks before (though it was long in the making and <i>long</i> overdue).<br />
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Yet it was undeniable. If such a thing as love at first sight exists, it struck me when he walked through those double doors, '80s movie soundtrack and all.<br />
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We hugged at the end of the date and he said he'd call the next day. True to his word, he did. That's one thing I loved about Aaron right away: No games, no guessing. From that day on, we were pretty much inseparable.<br />
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But it wasn't all hearts and flowers and ooey-gooey love stuff. A few months later Aaron and I got in some stupid fight, and I decided I was seeing his true colors and could never be with someone like that. So I broke it off. </div>
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But he wouldn't let me go.</div>
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He was devastated, overcome with remorse and vowing to change. After the rocky relationships in my past, I wasn't optimistic. But Aaron surpassed all of my expectations. We got back together, and it didn't take long to realize that he was it for me, that <i>this</i> was it — and he knew the same.</div>
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Still, we took it slow. I wanted to be sure I could be stable over the long term, not a basketcase he'd be chained to for the rest of his life (or as long as he could stand being married to me). Considering his past experience, he wasn't eager to rush to the altar, either. </div>
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More fun ensued until a year later (or, 15 months after we first met), we got engaged. That story is just as much fun as how we first met, and it happened at the same place.</div>
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Mid-December 2006, Aaron wanted to go on a date, a special one. The day came and I ended up sick with a cold, so I tried to put it off. But my family intervened. </div>
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"Just go," they said. "It will be fun, don't miss it. You really should go."</div>
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That's how I knew something was up. Then when he showed up at the door with flowers and wearing a tie, I was sure: Aaron was going to propose.</div>
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He took me to the same Olive Garden where we had our first date. Then he wanted to go for a walk, which I love but I knew he didn't. He took me to Murray Park, my favorite, where I grew up and spent so many happy days. It was warm for December and a light, misty rain fell. In the '80s movie of our life, "Time After Time" played softly in the background.</div>
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As we walked along he started telling me about how wonderful I am and how I've changed his life, and then he said this:</div>
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"But my life is going in a different direction now, and I can't keep stringing you along." Like the next word out of his mouth would be "goodbye."</div>
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That's when I punched him.</div>
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He started laughing, then got down on one knee and proposed. And of course I said yes.</div>
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So we got engaged...</div>
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And three months later to the day, we got married.</div>
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And our adventure continued. We bought this house:</div>
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And turned it into this house:</div>
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We traveled...</div>
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Got dressed up...</div>
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And did the things we love, together...</div>
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Then on October 16, 2010, this happened...</div>
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And a few years later, this happened...</div>
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And here we are today...</div>
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<b>Living happily ever after.</b></div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-1039600858312373082014-02-27T20:35:00.001-08:002014-02-27T20:40:58.300-08:00Twin life: Connected alreadyI have been so eager to see the bond between my twins as they grow, but I haven't had to wait long. Beth and Sadie are just 7 weeks old, and already the twin connection is strong. <div><br></div><div>My girls love to snuggle together, cheek to cheek, and I was reminded last week of how powerful that action is. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4eKOHjUjs3QrwFyFeF831Xx-pol9-wKPZ7kBlx8m2efOtltNDXp6HTi-eNMrHStOfNekBlTEXrSXxYqDLPS6j2CjUV_F7f9FXFA0lVhoTRuHH1fMmC8XkGCkDdKjAl2K4vMct2fEarmo/s640/blogger-image-728510639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4eKOHjUjs3QrwFyFeF831Xx-pol9-wKPZ7kBlx8m2efOtltNDXp6HTi-eNMrHStOfNekBlTEXrSXxYqDLPS6j2CjUV_F7f9FXFA0lVhoTRuHH1fMmC8XkGCkDdKjAl2K4vMct2fEarmo/s640/blogger-image-728510639.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The other morning after putting them back to bed, no matter what I did they fussed and fussed. Out of options, I laid them together so their faces touched -- and instantly, they calmed. Sadie even popped her binkie out and relaxed with a sigh, as of to say, "Ahh, that's what I've been asking for. Thanks, Mom. Love you, Beth."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's not always a cure-all, unfortunately. Some days one will want to cuddle and the other not so much, but there are other pitfalls -- like yesterday, when Beth spit up ... All over Sadie's face. Luckily it didn't wake Sadie, but still. GROSS, girls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Even less ladylike is what my sister calls "zombie" behavior: One twin will be searching for a binkie or a bottle, but instead find her sister's head and say, "This'll do," and latch on vigorously. This does not bode well for the twin being snacked on, but since they do this in equal share, it's the law of the jungle. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsT8UJT45bMdY1SxeYBmJmYBtHyZzNOf-KrXiIfBvgJ345wScrlVPypzYEk5D4PB07BHnNXKapID8BAOHuPveuRq0uRut5d-19jX9Lwtyhiua5wmg9qbOBzqqjz7kZKq2ggToqzDtiNo/s640/blogger-image-317218072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsT8UJT45bMdY1SxeYBmJmYBtHyZzNOf-KrXiIfBvgJ345wScrlVPypzYEk5D4PB07BHnNXKapID8BAOHuPveuRq0uRut5d-19jX9Lwtyhiua5wmg9qbOBzqqjz7kZKq2ggToqzDtiNo/s640/blogger-image-317218072.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>"Om nom nom!"</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Another twin quirk that is slightly adorable but mostly maddening: Their cries sound exactly the same, not just in pitch and tone but cadence. When they both get going, it is a sound that defies description, but I'll try. Say you had a recording of a newborn crying, and you made a copy of that recording. Then say you put those recordings on CD and put those CDs in two separate players. If you push play on one, wait two-and-a-half seconds, then push play on the other, and then somehow magnify that sound until it resembles the cries of 10 babies, there you have it. Imagine this at 3 in the morning, muffled yet amplified through a baby monitor, you can see why we jump when one baby cries and try not to wait until both get going at a fever pitch. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Luckily, one sister's crib crying does not wake the other. Lying side by side it seems to have no effect, but separate the two and then you have a situation -- and adorable yet slightly tragic situation. Say one baby is in the bed and the other on the changing table. If one baby starts to wail a scared or painful cry, the other will instantly become unsettled. It's like a scene from an action movie when one hero has been captured and dragged away, leaving the other hero to wail in response, "What have you done with her, you monster?!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But so far the most unexpected manifestation of the twin connection is this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhweo7ZyAVK5wezQEcw8g4Z7qAoOc38UbQ8uRDuclu5WA2MFXx81vb8JY4YTdmpd_-DEexsEp9Ef7pP_RJYFRe-7L4YnhfQVjtVHacR1Rf8pvBJ2UXsIKt0bKTv1MErLialJXJisMSCQ/s640/blogger-image--1908317135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhweo7ZyAVK5wezQEcw8g4Z7qAoOc38UbQ8uRDuclu5WA2MFXx81vb8JY4YTdmpd_-DEexsEp9Ef7pP_RJYFRe-7L4YnhfQVjtVHacR1Rf8pvBJ2UXsIKt0bKTv1MErLialJXJisMSCQ/s640/blogger-image--1908317135.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Two babies, one pose, randomly and spontaneously yet in perfectly coordinated choreography. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXieLd0njT1OQHUGZueSmMi4iuiANObcfv6bZKz0t8LW18OQnUXA_XeopHfLIw46UJRZloq0iCyE4o3WoFYYoioGa4WONiZul6EpYIqcwDneXvj8ST7TOk5AyVfbzC1zRuK5C5RaAleyU/s640/blogger-image-933467494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXieLd0njT1OQHUGZueSmMi4iuiANObcfv6bZKz0t8LW18OQnUXA_XeopHfLIw46UJRZloq0iCyE4o3WoFYYoioGa4WONiZul6EpYIqcwDneXvj8ST7TOk5AyVfbzC1zRuK5C5RaAleyU/s640/blogger-image-933467494.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyETr9_f7jsR6XKeF3ZThTb9lLQFNGEQ75VruscTmUVjEIHYlMrn79utPoeEmpHJriK3QDXHJQ5yo6nc9Q7_XicQDFWpY64vai64nGuBWkMpyHXfzs9VbFJfR7iZV-cU2Q43KaUYXoYg/s640/blogger-image-779570747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyETr9_f7jsR6XKeF3ZThTb9lLQFNGEQ75VruscTmUVjEIHYlMrn79utPoeEmpHJriK3QDXHJQ5yo6nc9Q7_XicQDFWpY64vai64nGuBWkMpyHXfzs9VbFJfR7iZV-cU2Q43KaUYXoYg/s640/blogger-image-779570747.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_CPp8Q_L4A3M7IV-dfS5WHswIoDlg_kU7aFKk7S6zSee2zYsGK3Q-nPsWukd2QqD9gT2H0knnyU_dIDZq2ZXFwtoBrZtqNlj681kPAYeEyvI1fh1Qf3v4545kh7rRmPY4SbxqOU2E7s/s640/blogger-image-384811543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk_CPp8Q_L4A3M7IV-dfS5WHswIoDlg_kU7aFKk7S6zSee2zYsGK3Q-nPsWukd2QqD9gT2H0knnyU_dIDZq2ZXFwtoBrZtqNlj681kPAYeEyvI1fh1Qf3v4545kh7rRmPY4SbxqOU2E7s/s640/blogger-image-384811543.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">ADORABLE. And I can only assume it will get better. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And throw big brother into the mix, and it's bound to keep melting my heart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOw05Pw3QaqwQfsS81B4kiCEUfoBlVrgw0emrZ4BgTfOL2SJFAI6B8IXNk5bCi2ZB-y4dOkP0rbIoD4eHNfeNE-YxGmQ_kTdXgidqNZvYTObF2KITj58wIYzK5_WLAV07UlfWafX3G_RA/s640/blogger-image--1835984612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOw05Pw3QaqwQfsS81B4kiCEUfoBlVrgw0emrZ4BgTfOL2SJFAI6B8IXNk5bCi2ZB-y4dOkP0rbIoD4eHNfeNE-YxGmQ_kTdXgidqNZvYTObF2KITj58wIYzK5_WLAV07UlfWafX3G_RA/s640/blogger-image--1835984612.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div>Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-31466256336814238152014-02-11T16:17:00.001-08:002014-07-08T15:54:58.240-07:00A day in the lifeAt a doctor's appointment the other day a nurse asked how life was with twins and if I was enjoying them. I confidently and truthfully answered that, actually, the girls are a piece of cake and, yes, I am really enjoying them.<br />
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Her eyes practically popped out of her head.<br />
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"Really?" she asked, incredulously. "I have never heard anyone say that before about twins."<br />
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And she's known a lot of parents.<br />
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Nobody could have been more shocked than I that this would be our reality, just four weeks after <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/01/introducing-beth-and-sadie.html">Beth and Sadie were born</a>. I spent months preparing for the worst, and now here we are <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/01/life-after-twin-pregnancy-first-week.html">with every best-case scenario</a> coming to be.<br />
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But maybe that's partially why things <i>are</i> so good. I was completely prepared (well, as much as you <i>can</i> be) for life with twins. I had read books, blogs and articles covering every aspect of newborn twin parenthood I could think of. I've polled twin mom message boards and sought informed opinions and advice every step of my pregnancy. And when it came to sleep — that thing we got none of for the first nine-plus months after Evan was born — I was more than prepared. I had a game plan, as well as Plans B and C. So although I <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-calm-before-storm.html">embarked hesitantly</a> on this journey, I had done my due diligence, and I was ready.<br />
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When you're a first-time parent, you get home with the baby and think, "Now what?" Even though I expected the first few months to a year with these girls to be complete and total anarchy, at least I knew the "what." The house was ready, and not just the nursery. Our living room, kitchen, and family room are stocked with baby swings, Boppy pillows, high chairs, and baskets with diapers, wipes, burp cloths, binkies, and blankets. The swaddle blankets and white noise are at the ready, and the kitchen is stocked with bottles and all associated feeding necessities. Plans A, B, and C were waiting...<br />
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But with these calm and mellow babies, we only ever needed Plan A.<br />
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In response to my ease with having twins the nurse said, "You must have them on a really good schedule." Yep, I do. They eat every 3-4 hours, after which I try to keep them awake for another half hour to an hour, then they get put back to bed for a few hours before starting all over again. And that's it: The easiest newborn schedule you'll ever find, and also the best for babies (according to my extensive research, that is).<br />
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So, for all other twin moms or moms-to-be like me looking for an idea of what life is like with newborn twins (and a rambunctious older sibling), here's how it goes, a very detailed, step-by-step account; a day in the life:<br />
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<b>Morning</b><br />
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The babies wake up between 6:30 and 7:30. If they're up early enough, Aaron helps with the first feeding before heading to work. But usually, he keeps his morning routine: Getting ready and starting the day with Evan, who gleefully informs us he gets to "wake up early with Daddy and eat a snack and watch TV." I try to finish the feeding before Evan's movie is over, then I put the girls back down to bed for a few hours. This allows me to spend the first of the day one-on-one with Evan so he's not starting out feeling neglected from the get-go. We eat breakfast and play a bit, and if he hasn't watched too much TV yet I put something else on while I go take a shower and get ready.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rwn03M4HNaUiXhlPUG7UDKWJu2A801xPbz1YDME7m6zQvm0nueuMjZE0tmcM61ZQarVQ4fWcaVzp_JRDCY9xJlNetMk7yTlO3vp0poUQcxEQJMUSw5JLsTAvDQCAoTbpbpNRodftwFY/s1600/photo+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rwn03M4HNaUiXhlPUG7UDKWJu2A801xPbz1YDME7m6zQvm0nueuMjZE0tmcM61ZQarVQ4fWcaVzp_JRDCY9xJlNetMk7yTlO3vp0poUQcxEQJMUSw5JLsTAvDQCAoTbpbpNRodftwFY/s1600/photo+(6).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>(The cutest couch potato)</i></div>
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The girls wake up again around 10 or 11, ready for a bottle. If one wakes up before the other, I try to trick the still-sleeping baby into thinking her sister is still snoozing in the crib with her, coaxing another 15 minutes of sleep so I can finish feeding the first.<br />
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<i>(Yes, this normal-sized stuffed animal is larger than my itty bitty Beth.)</i></div>
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If that doesn't work, or if they're both starving at the same time, I put them in their bouncer seats and prop them with a bottle. (I find this works better than holding one and propping the other, because I'll need both hands free since they'll both at some point drop the bottle or cough or spit up or need to be burped.)<br />
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<i>(Post-bottle chill time)</i></div>
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At this point I consider this their official "morning," so I open the curtains, turn on the lights, change their clothes, and talk and interact to get them awake. I find that a diaper change after a feeding is best, because it gets them really awake so they don't fall asleep again right after they eat. They'll stay awake from anywhere between a half hour to an hour-and-a-half. Unfortunately, it takes me about this long to feed and diaper both. Then they're ready to be swaddled and tucked back in bed, curtains closed and white noise on, for their first nap.<br />
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This is the time of day I struggle with Evan. He has never been good at playing by himself, and any progress we've gained went out the windows when the twins were born. So I put together a huge box full of "busy bags," little games and activities he can do while I'm busy with the babies.<br />
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<i>(Matching letters to cards with our names on them) </i></div>
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Turns out these bags only keep his attention for about 2 minutes before he's in the nursery with us, so I try to engage him while feeding and diapering two babies — which, as it seems, is not easy. Sometimes he sits by me and we read, sometimes I give him my phone to play with, sometimes I turn on music and he wanders in and out with toys. Mostly he comes barreling in demanding I put on a movie, then wails and stomps when I tell him no because he already had a movie, or he's crashing his Transformers or trucks into their crib and bouncers and I become a broken record telling him that if he can't play softly in the babies' room he has to leave. But despite his antics, he usually gives the girls soft kisses while they eat and occasionally helps me burp and wipe their faces. This sweetness is worth the weeping and wailing, I assure you. Then again, once feeding and diapering and a little chill time is over, it's time to put the girls back to sleep for another nap.<br />
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<i>(A little face time in the crib.)</i></div>
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<b>Afternoon</b><br />
<br />
Next Evan and I have lunch together, then play before he goes down for a nap. Oh yes, my 3-year-old still takes naps, and yes, I am well aware of how lucky I am! He sleeps about 2 hours, and during that time the babies usually wake to eat again around 2. I love this time with just my girls and me, even though it takes Evan's entire nap to take care of them one at a time (which is why I usually race through the house tidying up after he's gone down but before they get up).<br />
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Admittedly, his post-nap time period is my least favorite part of the day. Evan and I used to break up the drudgery by going somewhere fun, or even just running an errand, but it's no small feat to get out with my three kids in tow. It's not awful, but it is exhausting. If I don't <i>need</i> to leave the house, we don't. So for now, we are shut-ins. If Evan is particularly needy or I haven't slept well the night before, I usually cave and put on another movie, then we snuggle or I snooze on the couch while he watches (and climbs and jumps all over the couch while I'm on it).<br />
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Between 5 and 6 the babies are hungry again, and this time I bring them down to the family room for their feeding. I prop them on either side of me on the couch in their Boppy pillows with a bottle and feed them while Evan plays nearby.<br />
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<i>("Hey, Mom, you're doing all right." *wink*)</i></div>
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I used to want Aaron to help with the feeding when he got home, but instead I like that he and Evan keep their routine of playing together and wrestling before dinner. It's especially good for Evan, but to be honest it's still helpful to me so that he is occupied and isn't demanding my attention while I'm feeding the girls.<br />
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<i>(Tools on the floor and enjoying a good, old-fashioned beat-down. Boys will be boys.)</i></div>
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<b>Evening</b><br />
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Next up is dinner. We have been so blessed to have many meals brought to us, but now it's time to get back to the grind. For now we are having super simple meals, and that includes things that have been pre-packaged and frozen. The girls get swaddled and put back to bed while I get things ready, and the rest of us eat together at the table. Afterward we clean up and then have a little family time, sans Beth and Sadie for now, where we play together or get some chores done. Around 8 we start Evan's bedtime routine of teeth brushing, hand washing, room cleaning, jammie changing, book reading, prayer giving, lullaby singing, and sleeping.<br />
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Usually right on cue, but occasionally before, the babies are awake and crying to be fed at this point. Aaron and I take them to the family room with us and watch a movie while we feed and change the girls. This is my other favorite time of the day with them, where we get to just hold and snuggle the girls for a few hours. This is another reason we keep the babies up late: so we get to relax and just spend time with them while they're little. And another big bonus: We feed them before we go to bed around 11, delaying their first night feeding for a few hours.<br />
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<b>Night</b><br />
<br />
Here's been the biggest shock about having these babies: They sleep — a lot, and well — at night. They usually wake up between 2:30 a.m. and 3:30 a.m. to eat ... and that's it. Asleep until morning, around 7 a.m. What's more, we can put them back in their crib nearly fully awake and they'll fall back asleep on their own. This is where I know we've been especially blessed, because our first child was just the opposite. While my Plan A really helps keep these girls to this schedule, they are really just that accommodating. As I've said before, we've hit the baby jackpot! So when one of the girls cries to eat, Aaron and I both get up and we each take a baby for a diaper change and a bottle. The whole ordeal takes about 40 minutes, occasionally an hour, and then it's back to bed for everyone.<br />
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And yes, they really do sleep like this:<br />
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<i>(Heart melting. I dare you to find something cuter.)</i></div>
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After reading all of this, you're probably thinking, "Wow. That's a lot of work." And it is. Oh yes, it really is. On top of it, I haven't yet dropped my tidy-house standards and I refuse to do so. Mind you, this isn't deep cleaning we're talking about; I'll admit, the bathrooms are seldom scrubbed, vacuuming only happens if there's something large and noticeable to vacuum up, and who knows when I'll next get to dusting and all that. But a cluttery, messy house makes me feel chaotic and like I'm drowning in to-do's, so tidying and keeping up with the laundry are still at the top of my list. And as if that wasn't enough, I'm even working in some editing so we can afford to keep my girls in diapers.<br />
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So yes, it is a lot of work, and at some point I'll probably need to let more things slide. But for now, this is our life. And considering the alternative — chaos and crying babies and an angry 3-year-old and me curled up on the couch weeping and wishing I were anywhere else in the world — this work is so worth the effort. I am tired, but fueled by the adrenaline of keeping life going and everything and everyone on task and taken care of. And truly, it does feel great to take care of my home and family. It really is <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2012/04/why-i-became-full-time-mom.html">so much more rewarding</a> than any professional career I could hope to have.<br />
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And I keep telling myself, this phase won't last forever. My babies won't be babies for long, and since we are now officially retired from the baby-making business I want to enjoy this time in our lives while it's here. I can't do that if I know I haven't been putting all my effort into it. So when I'm getting stressed or overwhelmed or just plain tired, I tell myself to put on my game face and get to work. My children need me, and truth be told, <i>I need this</i>. If I'm going to reap all the miraculous benefits of being a mother and putting my family first, I need to do just that: <i>put my family first</i> and <i>fully immerse myself</i> in motherhood.<br />
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So if you need me for the next 18-plus years, that's where I'll be.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-57979216156406391972014-01-16T20:37:00.002-08:002014-07-08T15:54:34.756-07:00Life after twin pregnancy: The first two weeksIt has been nearly two weeks since <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/01/introducing-beth-and-sadie.html">Beth and Sadie were born</a>, and nothing is as I expected it to be.<br />
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It is <i>so much better</i>.<br />
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<b>The night before</b><br />
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After what felt like the <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/12/twin-pregnancy-week-31.html">world's longest pregnancy</a> capped off by a short but depressing <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/01/the-calm-before-storm.html">hospital stay</a> where I was put on bed rest for high blood pressure, the C-section date was bumped up one week. I thought I would be totally ready to get those babies out of there, but the night before their birth — and especially the morning of — I was seized with fear.<br />
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What if I couldn't do this — manage twin newborns and a 3-year-old? What if the babies were colicky or fussy or sick or wouldn't sleep at night? What if the worst in Evan came out at once and our world was ruled by three screaming children? What if I got postpartum depression again and spent my days and nights in tears? What if I couldn't love my children enough?<br />
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I tried to keep these thoughts at bay, but I still hardly slept a wink the night before my scheduled C-section. Couple that with the fact that the babies were going nuts the night before, kicking and wrestling and rolling, and it was a restless night. So when the nurse came in at 5:30 a.m., I was practically already out the door. Aaron joined us shortly thereafter while they monitored the babies and prepped me for surgery. Neither of us said much, partly because of the early hour but more likely because we both had the same anxieties. Nevertheless, it was time to go.<br />
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<b>The surgery</b><br />
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I waddled on down to the operating room (quite a victory for an about-to-burst mother of twins), where we were joined by our large medical team: the anesthesiologist, my OBGYN, several nurses, a surgical assistant, two pediatricians, and NICU staff. Ready or not, the time had come.<br />
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When I had my C-section for Evan, I was so ready. I had been in labor for 36 hours and he was stuck every which way, so we were overjoyed to be finally done and get him born. This time, I had way too much time to think about the surgery beforehand. I was pretty nervous, which may or may not have contributed to the unpleasant experience of throwing up while strapped to the operating table — not once, not twice, but four times. And twice more in recovery. Not a pleasant start to the proceedings. But once the surgery was actually underway, things got much better.<br />
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Up first was Baby A, Beth. My doctor told us she was about to be born but stopped with a laugh, saying Beth was helping deliver herself: Apparently she had reached out and grabbed onto one of the surgical tools and was pulling quite fiercely. At 7:07 a.m. weighing 4 lbs. 10 oz., Elizabeth Lindsay was born. Next up was Baby B, Sadie, who had turned during the night (again) and came out feet first. At 7:08 a.m. weighting 4 lbs. 14 oz., Sadie May was born.<br />
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Most moms of multiples say it takes weeks if not months for twins to realize there's another baby there and to acknowledge their sibling, but Beth and Sadie found each other right away.<br />
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And they have been like that since. While they're too young to understand anything that's actually going on, when lying side by side they always find each other.<br />
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We often find them in their cribs just like this, heads turned toward one another, foreheads and even cheeks touching.<br />
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<b>The babies</b><br />
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This is how sweet our girls have been since day one, and now almost 2 weeks later, not much has changed.<br />
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Nothing bothers them, other than being hungry or naked and cold. And even then, they calm down right away. They need no help falling asleep or staying asleep, and they're incredibly mellow pretty much 24/7. My theory is that they have been kicked, shoved, and pushed around in the womb for their entire existence, so they're just used to being harassed. Couple this with the fact that they always have another little body nearby to comfort them, and they never get so carried away that a little cuddle doesn't calm them down in a snap.<br />
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Probably the best thing of all is that they sleep at night. Aaron and I have been keeping them up with us after Evan goes to bed, giving them awake time and a feeding just before we go to bed around 11. Other than the first night home, where they fussed from about 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., they have only woken up to eat once in the night. Yes, once. So they eat around 11 p.m., 3 or 4 a.m., and 8 or 9 a.m. Oh yeah, we've hit the new baby jackpot.<br />
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Some of you may be saying, "Yeah, they're mellow because they're newborns, and sleeping is all they do." Not so, my friends. Our first newborn did NOT sleep. He didn't do anything but scream since the day he was born, so we know what a drastic difference this is. In fact, the most surprising thing of all is the fact that these two newborns are 50 times easier than Evan not just as a baby, but still now as a 3-year-old. Other than the time it takes to feed and change two babies, they are a piece of cake. I am actually enjoying this stage that I've spent years dreading!<br />
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It doesn't hurt that the twins are as healthy as they come; poor little Evan had a rough start. It took us months until we figured out that he had acid reflux, a dairy intolerance, and a kinked neck and spine from a traumatic labor, so I don't blame him for being pissed at the start.<br />
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But despite being born at just 36 weeks gestation, the girls are remarkably healthy. The NICU staff was standing by, but everyone was shocked that the twins didn't need a single thing at birth. They had no breathing problems, no feeding issues, no jaundice, nothing. Other than being tiny, you would never know they were born an entire month earlier than most single babies.<br />
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In this picture, Beth is one week old. Had I still been pregnant they'd be at 37 weeks gestation. This shows you just how tiny they really are, chicken legs and all!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip538nMKZR2eHmbNQvI7hXJd7szM1eu2TWe7i9apMuoldcVdbUiuDYDZU82SZwnRIvmWmSlIw5xYFM13IXWp4XeFOuZpN8jJh5HOA7ncetd3ThWDt2yG1Ofza9SFZwlnCZMDIVulso76Y/s1600/SkinnyBeth.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip538nMKZR2eHmbNQvI7hXJd7szM1eu2TWe7i9apMuoldcVdbUiuDYDZU82SZwnRIvmWmSlIw5xYFM13IXWp4XeFOuZpN8jJh5HOA7ncetd3ThWDt2yG1Ofza9SFZwlnCZMDIVulso76Y/s1600/SkinnyBeth.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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But other than being skinny minnies, they are absolutely perfect. What a rare and immense blessing!<br />
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In the end, I think this mellowness really just has to do with temperament. Evan has always been an all-or-nothing kid. When he's happy, he is HaPpY!!!!! When he's not, look out. So far, it seems like these girls don't go to the same extremes — not even close. Time will tell, as they grow out of the newborn phase and start to be their own people. But my hope is that right now while they are so easy, we'll get them on a good schedule and teach them good habits so that by the time the newborn spell wears off they'll be trained, for lack of a better word, and happy.<br />
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<b>The recovery</b><br />
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Turns out I didn't need to be nervous for the surgery at all. It was no walk in the park, but the aftermath wasn't nearly as bad as after my first C-section, which was preceded by 36 hours of labor. I have been reading a bunch of blogs about recovery after a twin birth, trying to prepare myself for whatever madness may lie ahead. But once again, I got the best-case scenarios and seemed to recover in a flash.<br />
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Well, it's not like I was dancing around the hospital room. I had a lot of pain and I could only walk slowly, inch by inch, but I was up the next day. The funny thing is, recovering from a C-section pretty much felt exactly like being extremely pregnant with twins, so I was already used to that. The main difference: Every day got better, not worse.<br />
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This is me just one or two days after delivery. Not too shabby, eh?<br />
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Other than pain from the incision, the worst side effect was the swelling, which was partially from pregnancy and partially from IV fluid. Luckily, while on bed rest I got rid of most of it and probably the rest by the time I got home.<br />
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Remember this?<br />
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Down to this a week after delivery:<br />
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Also, I don't think the incision pain would have been so bad on its own, but I got a terrible cough while in the hospital. Every time I had to cough, it felt like my incision was being torn open again. That sucked, but even then the pain was manageable. By the time we left the hospital three days later I didn't need pain pills. I could walk almost at a normal speed, though in short distances only. A week after the birth we even made a little family trip to the mall. I couldn't go far, but it's a far cry from post-surgery with Evan, where I could still barely hobble a month later. </div>
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The other amazing thing — that thing which all mothers-to-be are so anxious about — is that just 2 weeks after delivery, my belly is miraculously almost back to normal size and I am only about 10 lbs. above my pre-baby weight.</div>
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Remember this, just a week before delivery?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqXjPXN6Z79casl2DPef0VBgKatL_TX6uMT18NYkxUwm44Gk_MabUZTrZwX4ppRo4HwMwMmLIMHi3ahDzN9txUA5yPp7VnDYccy3hrTMzbuxO27iGfHc36Xj_KK0afHOUicN2_N7Ak_w/s1600/1493253_10151755568992132_1358473557_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKqXjPXN6Z79casl2DPef0VBgKatL_TX6uMT18NYkxUwm44Gk_MabUZTrZwX4ppRo4HwMwMmLIMHi3ahDzN9txUA5yPp7VnDYccy3hrTMzbuxO27iGfHc36Xj_KK0afHOUicN2_N7Ak_w/s1600/1493253_10151755568992132_1358473557_n.jpg" height="320" width="219" /></a></div>
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Bam, three weeks later.</div>
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Whenever someone tells me I look good I've been joking that all I had to do was have major surgery to remove two humans from my body. Easy peasy! </div>
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Of course it wasn't so easy, but it is astounding to me how long ago my pregnancy feels. I never thought I'd say this in a million years, never ever ever, but ... I almost miss it. Almost. Yes, it sucked, but it was also miraculous. What an incredible thing, to grow not just one baby but two! To have them here now, so healthy and strong, makes me feel pretty amazing. I can't believe I did that! All on my own, I not only survived but I kicked twin pregnancy's butt! </div>
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And to bounce back so quickly almost makes me feel even more amazing, but strangely it feels sad that reminders of such a long and arduous task would vanish just like that. It must be how Olympians feel after the Olympics are suddenly over. This also must be why Mother Nature is letting me keep a stomach full of stretch marks. She couldn't let me feel too hot to trot or forget that monumental accomplishment so soon.</div>
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All in all, this quick return to normalcy has done wonders for my moods, which I was very concerned about beforehand. I got terrible postpartum depression with Evan, almost immediately and for many months. I was prepared for that, but again I was pleasantly surprised at the reality.</div>
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When we got home I was suddenly overwhelmed by how much I had missed being there with my family. I was only gone a week, but that feels like a month when you have a small child. I missed the daily routine with Evan, and I know he really missed me. When I stopped to think about that I really got depressed. I felt cheated out of not only the week, but by the fact that our routine was forever changed from that day on. I was lucky to have bonded with the girls already and I loved them dearly, but depression knows no logic. I was dreading the months ahead of trying to give enough attention to all three children, fumbling my way through each day and robbing my son of the happy, content life we had thus far led. It hit me hard.</div>
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But then I had an epiphany. I thought back to each time I had a meltdown over big changes, when life charged ahead and I felt cheated of the past and unprepared for the future. At those times I felt safe and loved the place I was at, but looking back, I would never, EVER want to revisit them. My life has just gotten better and better exponentially, rocky roads notwithstanding. And though I knew a rough road may lie ahead, I also knew that whatever was beyond it would be wonderfully, gloriously fulfilling.</div>
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Since then I've had a small handful of brief weepy moments, but blessedly I've been completely content — even blissfully happy at times. These children, all three of them, are just so incredible. It is hard for me to be so in demand and so crazy busy, but the amount of love here is also truly amazing. They need me, and while that feels so draining at times, I keep telling myself that this is why I was put here on this earth: to give when I am needed, even beyond what I think I have to offer. I'm going to have to remind myself of this over and over and over throughout the years, I know. But it's worth remembering. </div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-66003153712797003792014-01-15T13:15:00.002-08:002014-07-08T15:54:04.246-07:00Introducing Beth and Sadie<div style="text-align: center;">
On January 7, 2014, just after 7:00 a.m., once again our world changed forever.</div>
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At 7:07 a.m., weighing 4 lbs. 10 oz., Elizabeth Lindsay was born. </div>
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At 7:08 a.m., weighing 4 lbs. 14 oz., Sadie May joined her sister.</div>
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And it was all worth it. Everything. </div>
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We are in love with our Beth and Sadie.</div>
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<i>Much more to come...</i></div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-82569355685811251752014-01-06T20:43:00.001-08:002014-07-08T15:53:39.994-07:00The calm before the stormIt is the night of Monday, January 6, 2014. In approximately 9 hours, my baby girls will be born. What a journey it has been.<br />
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In a lot of ways, I have <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2014/01/twin-pregnancy-week-35_3.html">grown so much</a>. In many others, I am just as overwhelmed as I was that July afternoon when I learned that I was carrying <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/07/along-came-miracle.html">not one, but two babies</a>. I wish there was some easy way to sum it all up, but there's no simple way to do it justice.<br />
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I would like to say that on the eve of this life-changing event, I am ready and eager for what awaits. But truthfully, I just don't know. I am certainly <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/12/twin-pregnancy-week-31.html">ready to be DONE being pregnant</a>, but as for being eager to be a mom of multiples, I'm not so certain.<br />
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In fact, if I'm being completely honest, I'm not sure I'm even ready to have one new baby. Much of this has to do with the fact that babies have always made me nervous, even my own — and with good right, as we did not have an easy road with Evan.<br />
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But I think that's what makes this transition even more difficult. We have worked so hard to be good parents and work through the difficult phases, and I feel like we've made it through the worst of it (teenage years not withstanding). We are in such a good place right now. I am so proud of my sweet little boy. He is imaginative, playful, thoughtful, considerate, hilarious, rambunctious, and oh so smart. He is a delight to be around, and even though he has his moments (as all of us do), I am so impressed with how he handles his emotions — not just for a 3-year-old, but for anyone at any age. What an honor it is to be his mother and guide him through life.<br />
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It's hard to leave this phase behind and essentially uproot everything. The three of us are in a groove, and life is good. It's always sad to leave something great to embark into the unknown.<br />
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I'm probably thinking about this more than I should, because the reality is rarely as bad as the fear. But I've had nothing to do but think for the last few days: I've been on hospital bed rest since Saturday, alone in these four white walls to think and think and think. Under any other circumstances I'd probably enjoy the respite and down time. Now, it's almost been a recipe for disaster. But again, my wonderful family and friends have come to my aid and I haven't had too long to be left to my thoughts.<br />
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<i>Cuddles with Mommy before leaving for the night</i></div>
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I can't let it go unsaid that I am extremely grateful. Despite the difficulties of these past few weeks, I have been blessed with incredible health. To go this far in pregnancy and be put on bed rest at nearly 36 weeks is amazing. To have near-perfect check ups each and every time is almost unheard-of. Our babies have been absolutely perfect in every way, and though I am hurting and my blood pressure keeps climbing, I have made it so far and have been so much stronger than I ever thought I could be. I know the thoughts and prayers of many have been with me, and I can feel them all.<br />
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And ready or not, it's time to move on. Time to meet these two little spirits who have been entrusted to us. Time to put my needs aside and focus on them and make our family work as one. Time to walk away from fear and go forward with faith that I have what it takes. Time to welcome the joy that is sure to accompany these babies in the years to come.<br />
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So on Tuesday, January 7, 2014, just after 6:30 a.m. our two little girls, Beth and Sadie, will be welcomed into the world.<br />
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Let the new journey begin.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-66079570437038757712014-01-03T12:45:00.000-08:002014-07-08T15:53:24.596-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 35Not gonna lie, this has been a rough week.<br />
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<i>Belly at 34 weeks, 6 days. Still growing...</i></div>
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<i>I have no words.</i></div>
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Last night I sat down to blog about it, but everything that came out was terribly negative and depressing. It was all the unembellished truth, nothing dramatized or exaggerated (like I said, it's been a really tough couple of days). But instead of feeling like I got everything off my chest, I felt buried even deeper in frustration and hopelessness.<br />
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Not a great start to the New Year.<br />
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So instead of hitting 'Publish,' I abandoned ship. Rather than wallowing in my own misery, I did something I don't normally do: I asked my friends for help lifting my spirits.<br />
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Facebook gets a lot of flak these days for making people feel worse about their lives. I don't know what kind of friends other people have, but mine are pretty awesome. Admittedly I'm a bit of a hermit in real life, pregnant or not, but I still have an incredible circle of friends and family who are willing to lend a hand when I can drop my pride long enough to reach out. I'm very glad I did, and I thank each one of you for your responses and support.<br />
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Did that make my troubles disappear? Nope; I'm not out of the woods yet. But instead of feeling my own fear, anxiety, and weariness, I began to feel lifted up and filled with strength I couldn't have mustered on my own. People who don't believe in prayer really should stop to reconsider the next time they suddenly feel stronger or more at ease in the face of adversity.<br />
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So while I still have the constant contractions, a stinging stomach rash, a bruised belly button, and elephant cankles, once the migraine I went to bed with last night subsided this afternoon I was finally able to feel something other than my own sorrow: Peace.<br />
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I came home from my doctor's appointment (after just learning that the daily contractions are, yes, to be expected at this stage, and we won't know if they're the real deal until they result in a baby or two, so yes, keep going into the hospital like you did on New Year's Eve if they get to be regular, even if that's every single day until you deliver) and had some time to myself before Aaron and Evan got home. I turned on the fireplace, sat on the couch, and got to finish my book in solitude. Then I looked around me and thought, "What a wonderful home to bring children into."<br />
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And it's not just the cozy fire, although that helps on a day like this. We do have a lovely house, big enough for our soon-to-be family of five, in a lovely neighborhood with more than lovely neighbors and friends around us. We have family nearby, like parents who say yes without question when you call at 6 a.m. saying I am too sick to take care of my son today, will you please take him? Or who bring over dinner even when their day hasn't been the best either, or who come over just to scrub bathrooms, or who call just to check in, or are constantly reminding you that they're going to be there to help when the babies finally arrive.<br />
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But more importantly than what surrounds our house is what's inside. Forgive me for getting all Hallmark Channel on you, but in the warmth of that cozy fire as I happily looked forward to seeing my husband and son after a long, pain-filled day, I realized that there is just so much love in our home. It astounds me sometimes when I really stop to think about it, because we're not overly lovey-dovey and we express our affection in silly, obnoxious ways that make people think we must secretly hate each other. It makes me ache when I remember that this isn't the norm, either — that far too many children are born into horrible situations where the lack of love is the least of their problems.<br />
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And that's when I realized that, yes, I am ready for these babies. In fact, we are perfect for this job. It's going to be chaotic and tough and really put us through the ringer in ways we probably can't even anticipate for all our worrying. But we have been chosen to be the parents of these two little girls and our son, and we do not take that responsibility lightly.<br />
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So, in honor of my 2014 New Year's Resolution: Twin parenthood, show me what you got. I am ready and we will RISE TO THE OCCASION.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-52943981934884071812013-12-12T14:36:00.000-08:002014-07-08T15:53:08.980-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 32It's been another crazy roller coaster week, but today I'm happy to be on the upswing.<br />
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Things improved since last week's visit to <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/12/twin-pregnancy-week-31.html">labor and delivery</a>, thank the heavens above. But it still hasn't been a cake walk. It's been just over a week and I've only left the house a handful of times. While that normally would make me nuts, this time it's been awesome. I really need to be hunkered down. I'm getting to the point where moving around is difficult not because I'm so big, but because I have contractions pretty much all day every day. Thankfully they're not too intense (yet), but the pure fact that they haven't stopped in 9 days and will not stop until I deliver these babies has just made the situation really ridiculous. Frankly, I'm now kind of pissed off about it. It's just exhausting and so pointless. Nothing else is changing physically, the babies are not on their way yet (at least so far). So hey, body, let's just settle down now, huh?<br />
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<i>At 31 weeks</i></div>
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OK, so the attitude is not part of the upswing (although it does keep me from getting depressed, so maybe). Today I'm feeling good because I had another appointment and everything looks great. Plus, I have a possible explanation for all the pain and craziness this past week. Last Wednesday Baby A was head down/feet up and Baby B was feet down/head up — a little yin-yang position for the two. This morning, Baby A was still in the same position but Baby B is now on top and perpendicular, so they're making a "T" shape. That's 4 lbs. of baby, plus a placenta and amniotic fluid, jostling around and turning every which way — not to mention the other 4 lbs. of baby trying to stay put while all that goes on around her. With all this jockeying for position, no wonder my uterus is angry and not reacting kindly. That's a lot of action in such close quarters.<br />
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Speaking of close quarters, I am baffled at how so much is going on in such a small space. I am 32 weeks pregnant with two babies measuring right on track for their gestational age, so there's roughly 8 lbs. of baby with another 3-ish lbs. of placenta and fluid, and yet I'm only measuring 35 weeks. Even more confusing: At 29 weeks I was measuring 36. Some more numbers for ya: Despite eating like a linebacker the past month I have only gained 33 lbs. total, 3 of which happened since my last appointment. And, I am only 5'2" so there's really nowhere to go but out.<br />
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Ouch. Math makes my brain hurt — especially math that doesn't actually add up.<br />
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I'm guessing that the babies' new positions make my stomach seem ever-so-slightly smaller. Or maybe my organs have been pulverized by the weight and vigor of two very active babies and are not actually solid mass anymore. Or maybe my doc is just messing with me.<br />
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Mostly likely it's just what I've been saying all along: Growing a baby is HARD WORK. Growing two must be double that, because although I've been sitting or lying down for the better part of a week and stuffing my face indiscriminately, I still feel like I've run a marathon every day. So in a really weird way, getting pregnant with twins is the best diet I've ever been on. My body has never been so efficient at putting these calories to use, even when I don't put the best ones in. Almost makes up for the constant pain and agony and the likely permanent scars I'll bear at the end of all this.<br />
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Almost.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-76632864833995045352013-12-03T10:34:00.001-08:002014-07-08T15:43:59.873-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 31Yep, I hate this.<br />
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As a fellow mom of multiples put it, a twin pregnancy is the one crazy time when you've never wanted to simultaneously <i>stay</i> pregnant and <i>be done</i> being pregnant so badly in your life. </div>
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I can handle the physical aspect of being big and slow (other than the daily contractions, but more on that later), but I hate how it's messing with my head. I'm not one to say "I can't," even when I should. I'm a pusher. It's what's gotten me through the awful times in my past, so it's an instinct I can't easily turn off. That's why it's so hard to suddenly feel useless and helpless--and even harder for me to ask for help or even take it when offered. I survived on grit alone for years, but now it's not healthy to do that. This is probably exactly why I've been given this challenge. I haven't learned these skills, but I literally cannot do all the things my brain tells me I can totally handle if I just suck it up. I need to stop, I need to lay down, I need to let others take over... But I can't shake that feeling of duty and responsibility that drives so much of my life. </div>
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What I need to keep reminding myself is, my duty needs to be all about these babies. Even my son can wait, because I am literally the only person who can take care of my daughters right now. </div>
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I was slapped with that reality today when I ended up in the hospital, again. I started having contractions around 10 p.m. last night (side note: Why must these things <i>always</i> happen after hours?). By 4:30 a.m. they were every 6 or 7 minutes, so I made my way into labor & delivery around 5 a.m. </div>
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The good news is it didn't look like the babies themselves were coming, but my body couldn't care less about that fact. The twins are healthy and doing just fine, I was only dilated to a 1, and the fetal fibronectin test that predicts imminent labor came back negative--but still, the contractions got to be just a few minutes apart and weren't slowing down. </div>
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My doctor put it this way: I may only be 31 weeks along, but with the size of my uterus and the weight of these babies, my body thinks it's 41 weeks along. It can't figure out why I'm still pregnant and is trying to do something about it. </div>
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And yes, all of this is common and even expected with a twin pregnancy. So yes, this could be my life for the next few weeks. Cue sad, self-pitying tears. </div>
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Around 7 a.m. I was given a steroid injection to help the babies' lungs mature, should they decide to come early anyway. I was also given a shot to relax the uterus and stop the contractions. It didn't work at first, but they couldn't give me another because it made my heart go crazy so I sat and waited for another hour. At long last, things settled down and the contractions, while still consistent, were down to 10 minutes apart. Finally, at 8:30 I got to go home. </div>
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The other blessing in this is that I'm not on strict bed rest, which I really feared. Some women are in such dire straits they are relegated to the hospital for months on end. Even though I only have 6 weeks to go and even if I could have take my bed rest at home, I still think I would absolutely go mad. Thankfully, my doctor says that while it can help you relax, there's no concrete evidence that bed rest prevents or stops preterm labor--and in fact, new studies are saying it can do more harm than good. So I'm in bed today and probably tomorrow, but after that I just need to take it easy. Which is ironic, because if I take it too much easier I might as well be on bed rest anyway. </div>
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I've already had to stop doing, well, pretty much everything I do around here on a daily basis. My husband has the house taken care of and Evan is pretty low-maintenance for a 3-year-old. But the biggest change is that I recently lost both of my jobs unexpectedly, for unrelated reasons that are beyond my control. This has been frustrating beyond compare and terrifying financially, especially right NOW just weeks before Christmas and before we become a family of 5. I don't have any clue how it's all going to come together, or if it really will, but I'm trying to just have faith and focus on the positive--mainly, the belief that this is God's way of telling me to let go. </div>
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I have been pushing and struggling for months trying to find a better way, trying to give us more of a cushion post-birth since there's no telling when I'll be able to work again, if ever (at least while the kids are young). I have tried about everything I could possibly think of, and all to no avail. And now to have this door slammed in my face, I have no choice but to finally take it as a sign that I need to put it down, all of it. You have no idea how hard it is for me to essentially be told, "Your job right now is to do nothing." But that's the only guidance I'm getting. It is all completely out of my hands now, so I need to let it be. I don't know what the answer is, but I know it's not me. It is not my job to come up with or be the solution. If it was, then something would have materialized long ago. It's cold comfort at best, but just another one of those things you have to wade through before you finally find the lesson and see the light. And hey, there's still time for a Christmas Miracle!</div>
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So that's where I am now: metaphorically waiting in the dark while literally sitting on the couch or sprawling out in bed. Frustrating? You bet. But I can still find plenty of blessings, and that's what I'm holding onto. </div>
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In the meantime, I'll just binge on Christmas movies and get all the Evan snuggles I can before two more tiny people need my complete attention. And I'll focus on the most important duty I have right now: to get these girls here safely. After all, no one else can do it but me. </div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-53359618850034273552013-11-20T16:19:00.001-08:002014-07-08T15:43:37.987-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 29Just a quick update with some significant numbers:<br />
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Months pregnant: 7</div>
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Weeks pregnant: 29</div>
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Weeks belly is measuring: 36</div>
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Pounds gained: 30</div>
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Number of babies on board: 2 (I keep asking my docs to make sure no one else is hiding in there)</div>
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Minutes I can stand before the pain takes over: 15</div>
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Final eviction date: January 14</div>
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That's right: These babies will be here in 8 weeks or less!</div>
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Kinda freaking out right now...</div>
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Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-66238791286406534062013-11-12T21:23:00.001-08:002014-07-08T15:43:06.029-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 28Good news and bad news on the twin pregnancy front.<br />
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The bad news is, despite really watching my diet, I now have gestational diabetes. </div>
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Apparently the "experts" don't actually know what makes someone develop diabetes when pregnant <i>exactly</i>, aside from making an educated guess based on risk factors. And I do have a few: I'm over 30, I have a family history of diabetes, and I have more than one baby on board. Seems that the placenta is most likely what affects insulin use, and having two placentas put me at a much higher risk for developing gestational diabetes. So now I have to take a class on it and test my blood sugar four times a day for the next week and hope that a more controlled diet will take care of business. Keep your fingers crossed for me, because I really don't think I can handle going off carbs completely. My depression would not take to that kindly.</div>
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The good news is, I have just 10 weeks left to go!</div>
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I am now 28 weeks pregnant, which translates into 7 months. When I see that written out, wow, I can't believe how much time has already passed. It seems crazy how this pregnancy, with all its ups and downs (OK, mostly mopey downs), has just flown by. What's even more nuts is that "10 weeks left" business. It's not "10 weeks give or take" — it's "10 weeks <i>maximum</i>." Twins are full-term at 37 weeks but often come even earlier. My doc won't let me go past 38 weeks, so if the babies aren't here by then, she'll make it so. </div>
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That's right, folks: I will officially be a mom of three and a Mother of Multiples no later than January 25!!!</div>
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This is incredibly exciting and terribly daunting. For the last few months I've been going back and forth between, "How on earth am I going to manage all the craziness that comes with having twins???" and, "Hey, I got this. Yeah, it's going to be tough, but I can do tough. I AM tough." </div>
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Today, like most days, I have experienced just about all of that and everything in between. This morning when Evan nearly had a meltdown because I attempted to put gel in his hair, I had one of those "Why is being a mom so full of this kind of crap?" moments where I can't believe these are the things that make up my life. But an hour later, when he was off at preschool and I was alone in the peaceful quiet of an empty house, I put all the baby clothes into their dresser and closet. Pulling out each little onesie and pair of footie jammers put a little flutter in this mommy's heart, mostly because my hormones are working on overdrive but also because OH MY GOSH BABY GIRL CLOTHES ARE SO CUTE!! And even though the nursery <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/nursery-odds-and-ends.html">isn't even close to being finished</a> (though it is remarkably cleaner), stocking it up with supplies gives me the illusion that I am prepared (or will be in time) and this is really happening and it's going to be great.</div>
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In the meantime, I am just trying to survive physically. After <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/twin-pregnancy-week-26.html">my last post</a> things unfortunately got much worse and I ended up in L&D again, but then they also got better for a while. I'm somewhere in between now. I realized that I am going to be in terrible pain by about 3 p.m. no matter what I do, so I may as well try for a little productivity in the morning if only for the sake of boosting my mood and making me feel like I am still participating in life. Admittedly I'm still really limited and can't do much; putting the aforementioned clothes in the room was about all I could handle this morning, and a quick afternoon jaunt to the store (read: a slow and painful hobble to and from the pharmacy) had me doubled over in pain when I got home. But at least I can still walk! I may not be able to say the same in a few weeks, so I'm trying to make the most of it while I can.</div>
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On a related note, I'm thinking my progress pics just aren't doing my belly justice. I thought the camera was supposed to add 10 lbs., but in these it seems it's whittling me down. I swear to you I am so much bigger in real life ... or maybe that's just because I feel enormous and heavy beyond belief.</div>
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At any rate, here I am at 28 weeks. And yes, even though I felt ridiculous, I smiled.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATAWyTQZDE3GhXjazXfJ9ztrs20XMwMjzZUaI4v5odMZ2FCF6uCQ_AXC0zURoZnmskWvkp0O-bzxhbuyP4UVlzZbt02p2SpkPlX7-BpD1_BvEZJjM731PIZEHwk5iqqatqvDq-Wqohwg/s1600/564424_10151665168627132_747947052_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATAWyTQZDE3GhXjazXfJ9ztrs20XMwMjzZUaI4v5odMZ2FCF6uCQ_AXC0zURoZnmskWvkp0O-bzxhbuyP4UVlzZbt02p2SpkPlX7-BpD1_BvEZJjM731PIZEHwk5iqqatqvDq-Wqohwg/s320/564424_10151665168627132_747947052_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I may seem small for having two babies in there, but kindly compare this to my pregnancy with Evan at 35 weeks:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilMU9ur-44TcS9tygP9GE_P3z4e3YOSFORxeOoBKDUCPsHR8E8_FA0ztaveoBIxEWEarkCCJxSqL0w_T3PBKCPM0-mgl3ul8ggAbt4bHtgAjb2UmPtALSW3u72giOoqSvbT_ZzYjzKF0/s1600/36143_434336862131_8262328_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilMU9ur-44TcS9tygP9GE_P3z4e3YOSFORxeOoBKDUCPsHR8E8_FA0ztaveoBIxEWEarkCCJxSqL0w_T3PBKCPM0-mgl3ul8ggAbt4bHtgAjb2UmPtALSW3u72giOoqSvbT_ZzYjzKF0/s320/36143_434336862131_8262328_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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So, yeah... That pretty much speaks for itself.</div>
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But you know what's really making this phase of my life more enjoyable? My awesome little family. If I haven't mentioned yet how amazing my husband is, I'm going to do it now. He's taken over the housework with no complaint — and not only that, he's the one who forbade me from doing it anymore. He's helped me with all my projects and things I can't physically do anymore, AND it seems we might actually be meeting in the middle on some baby names (finally!!). Throughout all of Evan's life, Aaron has absolutely been an equal parenting partner, and I know that when the twins get here we'll be an awesome team. It takes so much stress out of this situation knowing that I will be supported by this guy 100 percent.</div>
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And even though he may put up a fuss like nobody's business, my little Mr. The Dude is pretty awesome. Evan turned 3 last month, and it's like he turned a corner that day. He has been so much more content, happy, and silly, not to mention more independent and loving. Yes, he has his share of tantrums, but what child doesn't? Besides, they are dwindling and he's happier to get with the program and live up to his "Big Boy" status now. Evan is absolutely one of a kind and has me cracking up with the things he says and does. Being stranded at home most days is actually pretty entertaining with this knucklehead putting on a one-man-show.</div>
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This is still to say nothing of the truly wonderful friends and family who have also stepped up to help out. I can't say enough about my parents and in-laws taking care of Evan when we need it — especially my dad, who will drop whatever he's doing and take Evan for the entire day if I need it. I know Evan really loves his days with Papa, and it's a bond that will last a lifetime. The offers of help from friends and neighbors keep coming in, and rest assured I will take every single one of you up on those offers when these babies finally make their arrival! I feel really blessed to be surrounded by such a wonderful community. </div>
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Until then, don't be shy to come for a visit. I don't get out as much as I used to, and I fear the days will get pretty bleak without some more social interaction. So drop me a line and stop on by. I may be slightly unkempt and plopped on the sofa, but I'm always up for a little chat.</div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-2718867995440604772013-10-29T14:15:00.002-07:002014-07-08T15:42:29.196-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 26I've worked really hard on being upbeat about this pregnancy, but the time has come to just say it:<br />
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<b>Being pregnant with twins sucks.</b><br />
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It's a good thing I got this silly, goofy belly pic out of the way at week 24, because from here on out, you probably won't see such happiness from me for a while.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQeS1bj3hRT5wCamk1EJr1TJEbJdz0GC4H8SYSaMMz1BnKy92Lj5Dix_Mepqu0Hk71JdKIE1LL6iTSoWqTCalOYngHqTpmtY3et9ZMdMia5rGgfgb5Xv8P1zqZd8BlSm9uAGg4th4vOo/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQeS1bj3hRT5wCamk1EJr1TJEbJdz0GC4H8SYSaMMz1BnKy92Lj5Dix_Mepqu0Hk71JdKIE1LL6iTSoWqTCalOYngHqTpmtY3et9ZMdMia5rGgfgb5Xv8P1zqZd8BlSm9uAGg4th4vOo/s320/photo+2.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Granted, I was being sarcastically happy here. I keep getting flak from friends and family about having such cranky, mug shot-looking belly pics, like so:<br />
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I'm not trying to look grumpy, and I don't even feel grumpy in these shots; I just really dislike my profile and don't relish having pictures taken of it.<br />
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Now, however, I'm feeling the grumpy.<br />
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Actually, what I'm really feeling is pain. Before, I'd get the occasional twinges and stretching sensations — uncomfortable and unpleasant, but bearable. Now it seems that about every four or five weeks the babies (and, subsequently, my belly) go through a growth spurt. The first round of this at about 17 weeks wasn't great, but it wasn't so bad either. Week 21 was pretty painful, with Braxton Hicks contractions starting in earnest, but still bearable. Now, at week 26, I'm dying. I'm ready to just curl up on the couch and stay there until this whole experience is over.<br />
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It's not just the pain itself that has me wanting to throw in the towel; much of the agony is due to the sheer repetition of it. Just when I start to feel a bit better, in a few short hours it starts all over again. I am now on day 5 of this growth spurt with no end in sight — and my doctor tells me this is likely to be the norm from here on out. Which makes sense, considering the babies are about 2 pounds each but only have 12 more weeks to grow about 4 additional pounds apiece.<br />
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What's worse, there's not much to relieve the pain. That's because it's not a muscle pain or even a contraction that you can ease with a warm bath, Tylenol or massage. These babies are growing, fast, and while that's a wonderful thing, my poor belly just can't handle it. Every bit of tissue is being stretched, every muscle is being pulled apart, every organ is being smashed. And on top of it — literally — two hard, writhing, thrashing lumps of baby are bursting out every which way, apparently trying to make a break for it directly through my skin.<br />
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Oh, and have I mentioned the throat-boiling acid reflux and the return of the morning sickness? And the exhaustion that never left? And the shortness of breath that occasionally sends me into a panic attack because I can't get enough air? And the restless leg syndrome that keeps me awake all night — that and having to pee every two hours and the fact that we cannot agree on names for these baby girls for the life of us?<br />
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Yeah. Being pregnant with twins sucks.<br />
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This is why it always boggles my mind when people tell me they're jealous, that they've always wanted twins. I can kind of get this in theory; if you have terrible pregnancies and you really love babies, then sure, having two at once sounds like a dream come true. But this is no dream, my friends. This nightmare is my reality, and guess what? I have three months to go, and it's only going to get harder — to say nothing of the next 18 years ahead of us in which we must parent not one, but two children at the exact same stage (along with their older brother). So forgive me if I stare at you, incredulous, and ask, "Really? You really <i>want</i> twins??"<br />
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All right, that's enough out of me. I can't be all doom and gloom with no silver lining. When I look at the bigger picture, I actually have it pretty great. Yes, this feels pretty icky right now, but in the grand scheme of things I'm having an incredibly healthy pregnancy. Both babies are growing right on schedule and are as healthy as can be. And other than the pain and discomfort, there is nothing actually wrong with me — such a great blessing when you consider all the horrible things that could and often do go wrong in a twin pregnancy. In fact, I've actually had some really great things happen. For instance:<br />
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<li>I have zero stretch marks or varicose veins!</li>
<li>My babies are perfectly formed and growing strong!</li>
<li>My husband has taken over all the housework!</li>
<li>My son has started kissing my belly and "giving loves to the babies"!</li>
<li>I finally found some really cute and comfy maternity jeans!</li>
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And this is just some easy-to-find surface stuff. I probably could have devoted this entire post and then some to all the wonderful things in my life right now, just as easily as I did all this negative stuff. But sometimes, a girl just has to vent. And when that girl has twice the pregnancy hormones coursing through her veins, it becomes an imperative.<br />
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To keep myself focused on the positive, a few weeks ago I came up with my twin pregnancy mantra. I should probably plaster this all over my house to remind myself that yeah, this does suck, but I'm actually doing something pretty amazing, so it's worth it:<br />
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<b><i>"Some people run marathons or climb Everest.</i></b></blockquote>
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<b><i>I grow two babies at once."</i></b></blockquote>
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Thank you for indulging me in this rare but necessary pity party. I just want the reality to be known that this is no picnic. It is exhausting, physically demanding work — night and day, day and night, taxing my body from head to toe. Not that I want some pat on the back (though a massage of some sort would be awesome right about now); I just want the truth to be known, that growing babies — whether one, two, three or more — is incredibly, astoundingly difficult.<br />
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So the next time a pregnant woman in your life starts crying over "nothing" and will not be content until she has consumed an entire carton of ice cream, give her a hug and then go get her a refill. The lady has earned it.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-10234116543282889302013-10-11T15:50:00.004-07:002013-10-11T15:50:44.013-07:00Nursery odds and endsNow that we know we're for sure having <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/10/twin-pregnancy-week-21.html">twin girls</a>, I've been dying to get the nursery set up. The trouble is, the room looks like this:<br />
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It's currently the office/junk room. (And yes, that is a painting of Jimi Hendrix. Long story.) It's killing me that it's such a disaster, but I have been relegated to the couch and/or bed most days lately, so it's really slow going getting it cleaned out. My husband's been a champ getting a lot of it done, but most of the stuff in there is mine so I still have a lot to do.</div>
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Nevertheless, my wheels are turning. After kicking around a few <a href="http://anothermormonmommyblog.blogspot.com/2013/08/nursery-for-two.html">twin nursery ideas</a>, we have officially decided to go with an "Alice in Wonderland" theme. I'm so excited to actually have a girlie space in my house, as most of it is pretty dark and masculine (what can I say, I like visual drama), but this also allows my bold and colorful side to come out. </div>
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When I first started putting together a mood board, I designed more of a nod to the stories by Lewis Carroll and the bygone era from which they came:</div>
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If you'll recall, I already have the $15 thrift store chair and the vintage dresser (plus the boring crib, but it pays to be frugal so I'm keeping it) so I'm well on my way.</div>
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But then one day while cruising through Target I was stopped dead in my tracks by these crazy curtains:</div>
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I was smitten. True, they are pretty bold, and not in keeping with the soft, delicate feel of the mood board. But what is "Alice in Wonderland" if not wildly vivid, even a touch psychedelic? It made me take a closer look at the Disney movie and the concept art by Mary Blair:</div>
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Truly inspiring. So the vision has been adjusted, and a new mood board is in progress trying to mesh the two ideas:</div>
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Not as complete or cohesive, but I'm still working on it. In the meantime, I keep finding totally awesome stuff for the nursery, like this $5 huka-looking lamp from the thrift store that my husband has painted bright purple:</div>
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And this teapot nightlight that makes me want to die of cuteness:</div>
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I also have a little medicine bottle and heart-shaped keepsake box for an "Eat Me" "Drink Me" homage, and wait until you see the <i>piece de resistance:</i> the mad tea party-inspired mobile I'm going to make. It's gonna be awesome.</div>
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In the meantime, I'm stuck picking away at the room one itty bitty piece at a time (*insert sad, pouty face*). It's maddening to be so restricted, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. </div>
Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-35851346836570917092013-10-03T14:27:00.000-07:002014-07-08T15:44:15.705-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 21One of the best things about the frequent doctor's appointments required for a twin pregnancy is the number of ultrasounds we get to have. Our latest set was last week, the big anatomy scan, otherwise known as the 20-week ultrasound where you're most likely to find out the gender of your baby.<br />
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For us, the prediction made by the tech at 14 weeks was confirmed: We are expecting two girls!<br />
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And by the looks of things, we are also expecting two kickboxers. It's no wonder Baby B likes to hide out on my right side — she was getting a foot-to-face beatdown from Baby A, whose feet were right in her face.<br />
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It was funny to watch and a little sad that in response, Baby B kept putting her arms and hands in front of her face to fend off the kicks.<br />
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But not to worry; Baby B could give as good as she got.<br />
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I guess it's to be expected when they're in such close quarters. Even though they are in separate amniotic sacs, the membrane is about as thin as cellophane (though thankfully much stronger). It's no wonder I feel these two kicking and moving all day long. They are not only jockeying for position and fighting for space, they're constantly throwing elbows and knees and then trying to get the heck out of the way. Must be rough being a twin in utero. I mean, can you even tell what's going on or who is who or what is what in these two pics?</div>
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While the ultrasounds are always fun, they've taken on a more serious tone of late. In the past I have always taken this milestone for granted. When I was pregnant with Evan (and even before), the 20-week ultrasound was just the chance to finally get a glimpse at your baby-to-be, find out the gender, and take home a cute little black and white photo of Junior. But now having three vastly different pregnancy experiences, I realize this is actually serious business. </div>
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It's called an "anatomy scan" because that's what the doctor is doing: scanning the baby's anatomy from head to toe to be sure all the organs are in working order. I have known too many parents whose scans did not go well, and in the week before my own scan there were three other mothers on my Twins and Multiples message board who found out they lost one or both of their babies at such an appointment. After having lost a pregnancy myself and realizing that a twin pregnancy contains many perils, I now approach these appointments with equal parts excitement and trepidation. It's another reminder of how precious life is, and that the things we take for granted are not always given to everyone.<br />
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With that all going through my mind, it was with great relief and joy to hear that both babies are healthy and growing perfectly. There are no deformities or imperfections, and their growth is right where it should be. How blessed we are indeed to have such a healthy pregnancy.<br />
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And it's a good thing I was able to have that perspective, too, because this week has been particularly rough. I've started having Braxton Hicks contractions, which is normal at this stage of a twin pregnancy. But I was having them for more than 48 hours straight, followed by an intense shooting pain. I could still feel both babies moving, so I knew they were OK, but the doctor was concerned that too many contractions (mild as they were) could be preparing my body for labor already, so I had to check into the hospital to be sure everything was all right.<br />
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The only thing worse than going into the Labor & Delivery ward for pre-term labor is leaving without any answers. The nurses were able to determine that there has been no actual labor progression, thank the heavens above, but they don't know why I was having so many contractions or what that horrible pain is. It could be that the contractions were causing the pain, or the pain causing the contractions. It could be that the babies are just growing so fast that my body can't keep up. Whatever is going on, it hurts like the dickens and I am terrified that the next 16 or so weeks will be more of the same, or worse.<br />
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Subsequently, I've been on the couch or in bed for two days straight, and although it has helped with the pain, it's killing me to be incapacitated. I don't like feeling helpless, and even worse I don't like actually BEING helpless. Luckily I have one amazing husband who has been taking care of Evan and me and doing all of the housework (a girl can definitely get used to THAT!) and we have wonderful family who jump to help when asked.<br />
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So thank goodness for silver linings, or else I would probably be losing my mind right now. I'm choosing to focus on the thought that I am just so awesome at growing babies my body can't handle the two supergirls and their bodies of steel. I am hoping that it's just a growth spurt and in a few more days I'll be back on my feet, at least enough to feel like I'm participating in life.<br />
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In the meantime, if you need me I'll be catching up on my Netflix queue. Any suggestions?Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-85709474700122161052013-09-24T20:11:00.000-07:002014-07-08T15:44:42.053-07:00Twin pregnancy: Week 20Here we are, the pregnancy midpoint: 20 weeks down, 20 to go — that is, in a typical singleton pregnancy. When you've got two (or more) on board, you're blessedly spared the last few agonizing weeks of pregnancy. Full-term for twins is 37 weeks, and my doctor assured me she wouldn't let me go past 38. So what I'm saying is, I'm more than halfway there!<br />
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I have some oh-so-kind friends who jokingly claim I'm just too small to be hiding two babies in there. A lovely thought, and perhaps seemingly true, until you contrast this picture with the one from my pregnancy with Evan also taken at 20 weeks:<br />
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Also as proof, though no one but myself can tell: the constant chaos that is two babies moving in utero. I've been feeling them for weeks now, which is actually quite a delight — especially since they're too small to be causing real pain yet. The funny thing is how differently they move: Baby A (the "technical term" given by my docs for the lower twin) hangs out super low in my pelvis and makes her presence known with constant pressure and a flurry of little rapid-fire kicks. Baby B (the top-bunk twin) hardly kicks at all but instead hangs out on my right side, occasionally trying to push her way out through my skin. It's the strangest feeling, not just because of what she's doing (and because a hard little lump will pop up right where she's pushing) but because of where she is: If my belly button is 12 o'clock, then she's over between 2 and 3 o'clock. Very odd feeling indeed.<br />
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The good news about this pregnancy is, it has been entirely uneventful. Such a relief after the last time. Not only that, but although I am still pretty exhausted, am starting to have occasional intense back and pelvic pain, and have 24/7 heartburn and reflux like the eternal flames of hell, the nausea is gone and I'm actually feeling really good. I have two doctor's appointments and an ultrasound this week (hooray!), and hopefully the medical squad will confirm that all is well and we are progressing like champions.<br />
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The other bit of good news is, I'm no longer terrified. I've had nearly three months to adjust to the thought of two newborns at once, and here's what I've decided: No doubt about it, it's going to be hard. It may even be the most challenging thing I've ever undertaken, and I may be wallowing in misery and hating life for a while. But I've got two really good things going for me: perspective and help.<br />
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Although this twin business is entirely new territory, motherhood isn't. Honestly I have no idea how I made it out of Evan's newborn period alive, what with the colic, reflux, milk intolerance, torticollis, plagicephaly, and bleak postpartum depression. But we did in fact make it, and now I know this: It passes, and soon enough the rough stuff will all have been forgotten. As a first-time mom, all I knew was, "This SUCKS. My life is over. This agony is my reality. I will never be human again. Woe is me." Now I know that, yes, I will probably feel that way at some point this time around, but when my rational mind returns to me I will remember that it will not, in fact, last forever. It WILL pass quicker than expected. I'm OK to live in my pajamas, unshowered, eating microwaveable meals and surviving on four hours of sleep a night for the first few months, because it will only be a few short months. Even if those months actually turn out to equal a year (or more), eventually it will all pass and a happier, more clean and well-fed era will begin.<br />
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As for the help, all I can say is how touched I am at the offers that have already begun pouring in. I am incredibly blessed to have the support system that I do, with family, friends, neighbors and even people I barely know offering one service or another when the time comes, or even before. One amazing gal even came over to play with my child for a while I took a nap — an act that was so desperately needed and greatly appreciated. There are so many good people in this world, and I am humbled to realize I live among them.<br />
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So, onward and upward! Here's to a healthy and happy 17-ish more weeks!Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4296016166183087082.post-66309376634505677502013-09-10T14:02:00.000-07:002014-07-08T15:45:07.124-07:00The great minivan debateA little something from the files of "Things I thought I'd never hear myself say":<br />
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"Believe me, my dear, if I ever got to the point where it was Mom Jeans or perish, I'd take the jeans. I'm not a defeatist, I'm a survivor. You do what you have to do."<br />
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This gem comes from a text message conversation with the hubby in which we discuss, yet again, the very real possibility that some day we might actually be begging for a minivan, despite our current vehement moral objections.<br />
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His position is that a minivan is certain death. This used to also be my position, that to concede to a minivan would be to admit that you no longer resemble the person you once were or ever hoped to be, and that any semblance of dignity, pride or lingering "coolness" would be smashed, ne'er to return again.<br />
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But now, I am about to be the parent of three children ages 3 and under.<br />
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Let me be clear, I do not WANT minivan, now or ever. But I can actually, for the first time, see that there might be a moment in the not-so-distant future where this kind of moral compromise would be the very thing that saves my life, in terms of sanity — precious, fleeting sanity.<br />
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So I said to my husband, "I won't admit defeat yet; all I'm saying is we may get to the point where dignity be damned, we need that freaking minivan."<br />
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I get why he's holding out so dearly. I mean, after all, becoming a parent is quite a shock — not just for the fact that parenting is mind-bogglingly difficult and OH MY GOSH IT NEVER ENDS, but that it is drastically life-altering in and of itself before you even factor in trying to do it the "right way." All those things you rolled your eyes at or swore you'd never do, at some point, you will do some version of those very things. Mark my words, friends: you will, and there will be no going back.<br />
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So yeah, I get that as a parent who had at least some semblance of identity and self-esteem once upon a time, there are certain things you want to be able to say you resisted, that you never did no matter how fiercely the demands of parenthood beat upon you.<br />
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And so I likened a minivan to Mom Jeans:<br />
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"We all have our limits," I texted to my husband. "Mine is Mom Jeans and general frumpiness, so don't worry, I'm not giving up either."<br />
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But wait a minute... At this moment, I'm only wearing half of the cute outfit I put on this morning, the funky yellow belt long ago ditched and the non-maternity leggings replaced by oh-so-divinely-comfortable maternity pants, and I am literally barefoot and pregnant right now, and I am certain that I will be wearing muumuus by the end of this twin pregnancy and loving it.<br />
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Because you know what? Dignity be damned, I need to get out of this business alive.<br />
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So, are we rushing to the dealership to trade in the 4Runner for a minivan? Nope. Not even close. Will that day ever come? Who knows. As my husband says, if he has anything to do with it, no. Never.<br />
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But I say, never say never. I just want to survive parenthood, and if that eventually means Mom Jeans and a minivan, well, sorry, husband, and sorry Lindsay of days gone by. Girl, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.Lindsay M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00059068312577039529noreply@blogger.com0