Birthday Blues

I can remember how much I looked forward to my birthday and Christmas as a youngster. Without being weighed down by any knowledge of economics and the burden of Santa’s actual address, the sky was the limit when it came to not only what I could ask for, but also what I expected.

For several years running, I asked for a lightsaber. Not a toy one. A real one. One that could cut through things. A green one. A REAL GREEN LIGHTSABER.

This one

When I was a kid, the rule about opening presents was “no sour grapes”. In other words. Be thankful for the gifts you receive and no bad attitudes.

I think I did a pretty good job of following this rule but that didn’t mean that I didn’t suffer in silence when I realized that all of the gifts had been opened and I remained without my Jedi weapon of choice.

In hindsight, I do not blame my parents for this. After all, lightsabers would be a very irresponsible gift for a child and they do not exist.

Enter our son Oliver. 

Hi

In the unlikely event that you are unfamiliar with our fun family dynamic, I’ll quickly inform you that Oliver is our youngest of five children. He is also a twin. His birthday is December 23rd. Which, as my wife is fond of saying, means that he has to share a birthday with his brother and Jesus.

Meeting birthday expectations is already a steep climb for parents, steeper when said expectations are not grounded in physics or a realistic budget.

I have included an incomplete list of some of Oliver’s demands.

• That sword
• That power ranger’s Zord
• That thing on your back that you put two swords and then go like this (ninja like sword drawing maneuvers)
• That motorcycle
• That motorcycle too
• A dog with pointy ears
• A robot dog with pointy ears
• That thing that you put on a horse and you ride behind it and do this (indecipherable hand gestures)
•  A REAL power ranger suite
• All of the power ranger Zords
• A remote control Spiderman motorcycle
• That black remote control car that we saw at the store that one time
• A horse thing that you sit on (saddle?)
• That game
• A horse
• That game too
• A real robot that does that thing
• All of the video games
• A lightsaber

Since we live in the future most of the television consumed by our children is via streaming services, thus commercial free. On the rare occasion that Oliver (or any of our kids) does watch television with commercials the request list spikes considerably.

I don’t want to give the impression that our youngest is the only one making these requests.  He’s not.  However, he is the most vocal and repetitive of our quintet. On a slow day, Oliver has a cruising speed of approximately 55 RPH (requests per hour).

We typically acknowledge these requests with a canned, “We’ll see” or “Maybe”, or “Can you draw a picture of it that we can send to Santa?”, or “Maybe if you change the oil in the Subaru we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

We know that this is typical kid behavior. As mind numbing as it can be to hear the same request for the 100th time in a three-hour period we manage the frustration for the constant demands for our attention. He is not always going to ask us for things. There will be a day when he can buy all of his own things and we will be out of the loop. The tricky duality of parenthood is both looking forward to and dreading that day.

Maybe someday science will catch up with my kid’s demands and he can get that lightsaber. By then he will be old enough to responsibly wield it. Until that day, I have some shopping to do. By December 23rd these should be just about ready.

Cheers,

L&P

10 Minutes (Adventures in Maggie Rearing Vol. 4)

For those of you not in the know about parenting a kid with special needs, we have to keep our head on a swivel. All day every day. From the time we wake up to... well also while we are asleep, when we sleep. We don' really sleep.  True this can be said of the parenting experience on the whole but I find that the times I let my guard down for Maggie related issues the consequences are especially trying.  Take for instance the morning routine.

6:15 Wake up and begin coffee, breakfast, and making lunches.

6:30 Starting waking the 6 year old up.

6:45 Deliver 6 year old her breakfast and first outfit choice.

6:47 Remind 6 year old her breakfast is getting cold and present second outfit choice.

6:49 Dry 6 year old's tears because she hates the first two outfits, remind her that breakfast is getting cold, attempt to find (weather inappropriate) outfit request.

6:55 Reheat breakfast because it's TOO COLD and explain that the requested clothes are dirty but we can wash them for tomorrow. Help 6 year old into outfit choice 1.

7:00 Deliver Maggie's breakfast, turn on Abba Pandora.

7:02 Remind the twins that it's not TV time yet. Attempt 1 at getting boys to eat.

7:09 Remove all art supplies from the 6 year old, remind her that breakfast is going to get cold again and begin the shoe struggle.

7:11 Remind the twins that it's not TV time yet, feeding attempt 2.

7:15 Begin tooth brushing odyssey.

7:20 Take the 6 year old to school

7:30 Remind the twins it's still not time for TV, feeding attempt 3, and get boys dressed... where did you get a sword?

7:35 Help Maggie get dressed.

7:38 Stop the bleeding, seriously, where did you get a sword?

7:45  Put out the fire (for legal reasons please assume that this is a metaphor)

7:50 Begin watching for the bus.

Now we enter the danger zone and where we get the title for this particular blog entry. Part of the deal with having a kiddo with special needs is that the bus picks her up at the house rather than having to strut her out to a bus stop. For the last several weeks the bus has shown up pretty much right at 8:00 am. It's not uncommon that we miss the bus for reasons that are out of our control. The following is not a complete list but should give you an idea of some of the things that can take longer than tem minutes to remedy and may result in Maggie missing the bus.

• Foodmergency (cold)
• Twin Brawl
• Cat-aclysm
• Foodmergency (hot)
• Pokemeltdown
• Pootasrophy
• Apparel mishap
• T.V.engence
• Egg Failure
• Wafflop
• Shoebacle (hot)
• Total System Failure
• Under caffeination
• Udder caffeination
• Laundry adversity
• Act of God (Abrahamic) 
• Slips
• Spills
• Band Aid Snobbery
• Act of Gods (Hindu)
• Blatant disregard for authority
• Missing socks
• Blight
• Disco Fever 

  The bus driver, a lovely woman, and I have developed a system wherein I give her a thumbs up or thumbs down regarding whether or not we will be utilizing her services that morn . If I'm not at the window then it is likely that someone overslept, someone has a fever, or we are scraping cat innards off of something.

To be clear, I'm not blaming the bus driver for the days that Maggie misses the bus. Nor do I have a better solution for getting her to school on time. Well, not one grounded in reality at least. But just for fun lets say; drone delivery, self driving car, griffin, and magic banana.

The only reason that this is an Adventure in Maggie Rearing is because I arbitrarily selected Maggie's bus pick up time as a snapshot of our home. It could have just as easily been an adventure in punctuality; but I love that picture of Maggie too much to not use it. 

I hope you enjoyed this peak into our home.

Cheers,

L&P

Four Weeks Old

William on the left, Ollie on the right

Due to the tone of our last entry I feel that I should begin by letting you know that everyone is alive and recovering well.  The boys are gaining weight steadily which is a good sign.  My wife is also recovering and is as healthy as anyone who is no longer allowed to sleep with any regularity can be.

When my wife and I first started telling people that we were going to have twins, bringing our grand total of offspring to 5, a common response was, "Well after three kids there isn't much of a difference."  This gave us a bit of optimism as the thought that we were about to be able to fill a minivan was overwhelming to say the least.

I'm going to say that again, many of the people that we informed about our impending double birth gave us the impression that it would not impact us as much as we had feared.
Experience is a great teacher.  For instance, it has taught me that each and everyone of those individuals are either clueless, or malevolent evil geniuses who drink the tears of the broken willed.

I would like to give those individuals the benefit of the doubt and assume that they are not wicked, but ignorant.  Like a child lost in a department store.  Like a blind person in a darts tournament.  Like someone who does not have ADHD attempting to watch MTV.

You're out of your element Donny!

  Thus far this experience is like trying to juggle chainsaws.  Chainsaws that vomit and pee at you.  Adorable chainsaws that I love with all my heart.  But chainsaws none the less.

I have learned that I am significantly less funny when deprived of sleep.  I have learned that my wife is a juggernaut of parenting ninjatude and that I have so much to learn from her.
 I have learned that it is nigh impossible to split your attention fairly between all of your children.  Try as we might, whoever is crying the loudest seems to receive the most attention.
I have learned that I work with the most generous individuals that have donated time and funds to assist my family.  This fact is made even more amazing since most of my co-workers have never met my family.  This is humbling and frustrating because when I win the lottery (and I WILL), I now have to slice that pie up into even more pieces.
I have learned that baby boys will strike like a cobra with a stream of hot pee as soon as soon as a diaper is removed.
I have learned that a 20 month old can remove all of the keys off of a laptop in as much time as it takes me to empty my bladder.
I have learned that my 14 year old is fucking awesome.  I knew that, but this knowledge has been reinforced.

It is bittersweet to think that we will never go through this experience again firsthand.  Unfortunate as well since I almost think I am getting the hang of this.
We are trying to keep up with the posts but, as you may well expect, time is a precious commodity and it is almost always spent cramming milk into a baby or cleaning up any number of bodily fluids.
Thank you for your patients and for your support.

L&P

The Night of a Thousand Panties

As most of you know I am currently pregnant with twin boys.  I am now in my 33rd week and quite enormous.  It has actually been a fairly easy pregnancy other than the discomfort of two babies wrestling for space.  This week I think baby A is head down, directly on my bladder and baby B has his head in my ribs and bum on my bladder. As a side note:, unless you have been pregnant with twins or more, there is no comparison to 4 arms, 4 legs and two heads fighting for space inside my belly, no singleton pregnancy is like this no matter how big the baby. Needless to say, I have to pee about every 30-45 minutes and my bladder has shrunk to the size of a pea. 

Earlier this week I came down with a bad cough, sore throat, nasal congestion, sneezes, all of the crummy winter cold symptoms.  Because of being full of child(ren) and having already birthed 3 babies, I am wise to the fact that I may "spirtz" occasionally and that crossing my legs while sneezing or coughing is always wise.

Nothing could have prepared me for the "spritzing" that happened this week.  I mean, it was more like a damn sprinkler.  I went to bed Tuesday night around 9 with a mild cough and I woke up at midnight with spazmic, body shaking, hacking coughs that came out of nowhere and every time I had a coughing fit I wet my pants.  No amount of leg crossing could stop the veritable Niagra Falls that would occur when I coughed.  I was so feverish and out of it I could not think clearly enough to do anything but change my panties and pajamas as needed.  I would change, and then immediately need to change again.  I was sitting in the bathroom with the shower on the hottest setting in hopes that the steam would clear the gunk from my lungs, so fortunately for my husband, I never "wet" the bed (although I did have a coughing fit while sitting on the couch, oops).

So when morning came, my loving husband insisted that I call the doctor.  When I called the nurse asked me if I was "leaking fluid", meaning amniotic fluid, you know, like if my water had broken.  I said no, but that I was wetting my pants, when I had a coughing fit.  She wanted to know if I had felt much movement from the babies, I responded that I had not felt as much movement as usual, but that I assumed they would be less active since I was ill.  She said she wanted to check with the doctor and call me back.  So the doctor called me back and insisted that I go to Labor and Delivery at the hospital for monitoring of the babies and that they would figure out how to check my lungs there. 

I cobbled together some dignity, took a shower and when I got dressed, I realized I had gone through all of my "sensible" panties.  All I had left was my "sexy" panties.  When you go to Labor and Delivery you know they will be seeing your panties.  Really, who wants to see a woman who is 33 weeks pregnant with twins and having frequent incontinence wearing a lacy tanga or a filmy thong?  I found a semi-appropriate boy short that was mostly ruffles and headed to the hospital.  Oh, I forgot to mention that Maggie had an important appointment  so Casey took her and the baby and I took our 14 year old with me,  again, what 14 year old wants to see her mother in any kind of anything other than a granny panty. 

After I was checked in and dressed in a gown, they hooked me up to the monitors, exposing my panties to my 14 year old and the nursing staff.  Anyhow, I texted my husband to let him know that I was in Labor and Delivery room 4, he thought I was "in labor", and texted back that he was on his way and should he starting calling family.  Shoot, I meant I was in the Labor and Delivery part of the hospital.  Major text miscommunication.  I called him immediately and let him know all was well and no babies yet. 

I repeatedly told the staff that this was an over reaction and that I was fine and just needed some antibiotics.  Nope, they tested me in all the uncomfortable ways, and then the doctor came in.  He was a man.  Dignity once again lost.  He informed me that it was an over reaction and I was fine.  He gave me a prescription for antibiotics and sent me on my way.  He also suggested in the most pitiful way, that incontinence would likely be resolved once the twins were born or the cough was gone. Yeah, I figured as much. 

Sorry if you were hoping for a more provocative post.

L&P