This was written before our holiday hospital and pneumonia fun began. more soon on that.....

December is run running away from us and soon we will be 5 months old. I say we because I, too, am 5 months new. There is a newish me that I have been ignoring or perhaps too busy to see. She is a windmill. She goes round and round and never stops and creates energy all around her.

We 5 month old girls are changing like mad and this is perhaps the saddest and most glorious part of parenthood. Everyday you meet a new person. Everyday you miss the old one. Everyday you watch someone change and so there is loss and gain and it happens and happens and happens and you can't stop it. And you wouldn't want to stop it even if you could. I don't see my girls as babies anymore. I see them as fully formed little ladies. Little people. And they are such different little people. Rachel's babbling has turned to all out screeching. This is for happy or upset and it is both endearing and horrible at the same time. She opens her little mouth as wide as she can and out comes this monkey yell. Out comes the yell and then her lips turn into a smile. She loves this game. She has also discovered her feet. See:

Anya was looking up at me the other day and once again, I felt like I was seeing a future Anya. I see future Anya's all over the place. In the mirror, in photos of myself. But here she was, all real, right there. She was looking at me with such intelligence that I thought she looks like she is four years old. It is in these moments when I couldn't imagine only having one child. Who would I pick? I couldn't imagine it. Being a mom of twins is a constant battle because the reality of how hard this is and not ever wanting to think of having just one child.

My life used to be this unending cycle of looking forward to things. Movies and books and records and trips and shoes and art shows and all kinds of things. With two babies, I sometimes miss those other things. I sometimes think, what do I have to look forward to? It is easy to get stuck in the moment and think you will have two 4 month olds forever. But really, being a parent is this giant ball of looking forward. Some day, Anya WILL be four. And we will have the greatest conversations. Until then, I am enjoying right here. But I know, the time between 4 months and 4 years is mere minutes, really.

(anya is her vintage baby dress (from cousin, serene), which i turned into a sweater.)

Posted by tina at 6:22 PM | Permalink | TrackBacks (0)

Sorry, we had some technical difficulties with the blog. This post is essentially a test to make sure everything works, again. Real content to come.

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Jeff here with some news.

Anya has pnemonia and is in the hospital. Tina is staying with her. It's not that bad, though -- she should be coming home soon. They're just keeping her for observation and respiratory therapy to help her get rid of her cough.

I'm at home taking care of Rachel and our Boston Terrier Archie, which is a full time job. I come home and I spend the whole evening managing both of them -- even with twins, Tina and I trade off on responsibilities, and the nights get easier. But alone, it's just me. No trade-off's.

Anyone who says single moms are asking for it, or have it easy should go ahead and piss off. I'd love to see those big, red-blooded manly men who are so critical of single mothers take care of twins, much less a single baby.

I've finally figured out how to get Rachel to give me an hour or so to wash her bottles and eat dinner -- I put her in her car seat with a choice of toys. She switches between the two choices and is relatively content. That's a trick I learned tonight -- it probably won't work tomorrow.

Okay, off to bed. Tina should be back soon ...

Posted by jeff at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

ok. i can't resist posting more pictures. when i was super cool without babies, i would have thought i was lame.

we are waking up to us. waking up to each other. we are noticing each other. talking to each other. smiling when the other cries. staring endlessly into each other's eyes. we indeed do prefer telepathy. we are also the coolest dressed babies in town. (Rachel is sporting focoloco wear in the below picture, Anya above).

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This is a week of parties for me and free food and all that holiday cheer. I am not a party party girl. I am in general a happy girl who wouldn't mind a party if the right people were there. Not sure what that means. But I am not an office party girl. Today we had an IT group holiday (READ: FREE) lunch at noon. Then, at 2, there is a building party and then at 3:30 is a full company party. Insane. Also, this week, we have a daycare party and a building that we live in party and Jeff's work party. Crazy. Why am I tellin gyou this? In a boring way, I am setting up the following encounter, I suppose.

I broke off from the IT group lunch half way back to work. I needed stamps. And chocolate, but mostly just the stamps. The cloudy sky was perfect for this time of year. I hate hate hate sunny cold. I like my cold to be drab. I stopped to check my teeth in a safe-deposit box bank mirror, making sure I didn't have any remants of Cuban pork in my teeth. I noticed that I had been wearing my sunglasses on my head during the whole holiday lunch. And said couldy sky makes this seem weird to me. I am stunned by my reflection. My face is all Kate Winslet pointy when framed by my handmade orange scarf. At least an inch of brown roots make way for blond and then pink and then darker pink hair. The new purple fruit sliced eraser earrings (buy them at http://www.etsy.com/view_item.php?listing_id=41209) look so nice next to the orange scarf and pink hair. I am so much prettier than I feel, I think. I have gained 6 pounds. I am addicted to food again and I have gained 6 pounds. I whisper this to myself. "You look all Kate Winslet pointy right now... but you have gained 6 pounds!"

I make my way through the glass door marked, "please use the revolving door" and down the escalator to the post office. Full and full and so very full, the lines are long at said post office. I need stamps of all kinds, so quickly look around to figure out which line is the best for this. I choose the automated machine that takes debit cards, knowing it will only be able to give me half of what I need. I am in line behind like 3 thin blonds, all tweedy tweed in their winters and knee high boots. My mind is still on the 6 pounds and the pork in my teeth and I am someone's mom. And that is weird because I am not even thinking about those somebodies at all. Then I hear her. A familiar voice is behind me.

"Hello, little one." It is Lydia. My street grandma. She is in the line to see a teller at the post office. The way she addresses me is strange, yet familiar. As if she is really truly my grandmother and has been saying this to me since I was 3. And this surge wells up inside of me that I just can't describe. Lydia is looking tan like she has just come from a tropical vacation. But I realize this is the first time I have seen her inside under the bright lights of the post office. She has a heavy sweater wrapped around her head, turning the arms into a scarf. I make a mental note of this. She needs a scarf. She has an xmas card in her hand as well as a package slip. She must have a P.O. Box here, I think. Oh my, what if my mail to her has come to the P.O. box and she doesn't have an apartment like I think she does. I always worry about this.

I reach for my wallet as she asks me about the babies. I keep a new wallet sized picture in my wallet just for her. This one is of the girls in their Halloween dragon suits. She is so excited to see it. I give it to her and she says this is the best christmas present. "The emperor has two new dragons," she says. She asks me how old they are now and I say, almost 5 months. "Almost 5 months and here you are running around downtown DC," she says. She always worries that I don't spend enough time with my girls. I tell her they are ok and she seems to believe me.

I reach for her hand and hold it for a long minute. My hands are cold from the cloudy December outside. I say sorry my hands are so cold. She doesn't seem to mind and holds my hand while looking at the picture of my girls. We are holding up the line at the post office, my street grandma and I. We part and I wonder what she got in her package. I wonder what her life is really like. I wonder who else out there loves her as much as I do.

I come back to work and the lobby is full of more strawberries and little chocolate cakes than anyone could ever ever eat. I turn to go back out and find Lydia to share the riches. I even think about bringing her to my work xmas party in a few hours, the one where even spouses aren't invited. I don't, though, because she always refuses things like food and money. She just wants to see pictures of the babies. She just wants to hold my cold hands. She just wants to be my grandma for a minute or two.

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The lovely Kenya made these hats for my girls. I told her that Rachel was very dignified and thus Rachel's has a little flower. Anya's is kinda monster-y or jester-y, which suits her just fine. Anya is also sporting focoloco wear.

Jeff says, "you never blog" anymore. That sounds like a lyric from a song. Lalala, you never blog anymore. I have to say that I haven't blogged this week because I have been doing a lot of internal blogging. And here I go, blogging about blogging. So sad.

I have been doing a lot of looking out of the solarium window. This is my view. It is like the cockpit of a starship. The bridge, if you are a star trek silly.

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Christmas came early to the seamonster household. It came in the form of a truly amazing package from Pagan in New Zealnd. The note starts, "sorry these took so long..." When I first got pregnant, Pagan, who I only know in this lovely cyber cyber way wrote to tell me that she would be making some mary janes for my baby. I remember it was the week that I found out I was having twins and I wrote back that she woudl have to make two pair! I remember feeling weird about that. I wanted to tell her the rad news about having two, but didn't want her to think she had to make one pair, much less two pair of mary janes for me. But I love mary janes, so I kept my hopes up! So, dude... "sorry they took so long." is just nutty, since I always feel guilty when people make me things. I know how long things take, I know what it is like to make gifts for people. It takes a lot lot lot of love.

So, this week, this package came. I saw the address and thought... "ohhhh! tiny mary janes." Instead, I opened it to find 4 pair of tiny mary janes in different sizes! And a colorful hat for me and a brown and white hat that didn't seem to match the rest of the loot. Oh, for Jeff, I thought! How perfect. It was as if Pagan in New Zealand could see into our tiny apartment in America and see that mommy and girls are all rainbow brite while dad is very much a brownish, army green kinda guy. And Jeff really needed a warm hat!!! There were also 3 wonderful outfits for the girls, which also look homemade. Amazing. Right now the girls' feet are still so small that shoes fall off, but I cannot wait for them to wear these. They get to start their mary jane wearing life times off in style with these little guys.

So, yeah, amazing. And lovely and I am floored by how generous people are.

Pagan, how long does it take to make one pair of shoes?

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