Love your handles, love yourself

I need to write some things down that have been rattling around in my brain for a little while now. I have a long history of disliking my body. I think it started when I was in fifth grade. We did an activity where all the students were weighed, and we calculated how much we would weigh on the moon. I think I weighed like ninety something pounds. But most of the other kids my age weighed eighty something pounds. I heard it from pretty much everywhere that weighing more = bad. It was then that a sad little nugget of my brain started being devoted to pointing out my physical differences and how they made me inferior to others. It started small, but puberty would make sure to help that part of myself grow a lot.

Early in my teenage years, I started restricting food from myself. I would go maybe a day and a half, usually less, before I couldn't take it anymore, and I'd eat something. I told myself I definitely didn't have anorexia because I wasn't skinny. I was too vain to purge because I didn't want to damage my teeth. I'm going to thank my young vanity for that now. However, my disordered eating and body image problems continued their way throughout my teenage years and into the first year of my 20s. During that time, I starved myself significantly. I lost a lot of weight. And every time I got a compliment on how great I looked, I died inside a little more. I felt ashamed for my secret weight loss plan and bitter because of the lengths I apparently had to go through to look good.

A while later I confessed about my restrictive eating habits to my boyfriend (who became the guy I married, woot!). He was really worried about me. I felt kind of shocked by it, really, that the decisions I made about my body could affect anyone that way. It was enough that I've never starved myself since then, even though I still have had plenty of urges to do it over the years. But instead of restricting, I've had periods of binging since that time. The funny thing about eating disorders is that they don't really go away unless you do something about them. And of course, there have been plenty of restrictions in other ways, mainly in the form of fad diets. The thread that held all of these experiences together was a deep loathing I held for my appearance and untreated depression. I thought if I could just be skinny and stay that way, happiness would follow.

When I failed to get pregnant naturally, it was yet another testament to me that my body was a failure. I felt ugly, fat, and broken. If there was a bad thing to think about myself, I was thinking it. All the time. I was fairly relentless in the negativity I directed toward myself.

After I got pregnant and had Ben, I definitely suffered from postpartum depression. I look at so much of my life in retrospect, and it's so obvious to me that I have been clinically depressed for most of my young life. I didn't think so then, though. I thought that if you had a problem that had a name and a treatment, it made you special in some way, and I knew I wasn't special. Anyway, I started going to a therapist when Ben was a year old. I've come a really long way in loving my body for what it is and not what I wish it was. This is after 5 years of therapy, though. It has not been an easy thing for my mind to accept. But now, after having three kids, my body has grown and shrunk in terrific numbers, and I've finally come to peace with it.

Well, I had for a while until I started my last cycle of 2013. It marked cycle number 14 of the year for me, and I was pissed about it. I averaged a 25 day cycle in 2013. I spent approximately 26.8% of my life in 2013 on my period. The part of it that angered me that most is that it was for nothing. I don't ovulate, and therefore would not get pregnant during any of those many cycles, even though I hope to at least one more time. But that will probably happen in a doctor's office, like the last two. (Nurse Linda is my lucky charm. Chris also claims she's the rightful father of our children, seeing as how she impregnated me twice.) I fumed about the inconvenience of having a period without ovulating during many cycles year. But when I added it up and saw that it was for more than a quarter of my life last year, I was really mad at my body. And considering that those cycles are pretty short, I got to feel mad about it all over again when I had the first one of 2014 shortly into January.

What made me pause that thought was a post on facebook. It was one of those cheesy feel good story posts about an old blind lady who told the narrator something about when your body doesn't work the way you want it to, you can be mad or you can find the positives or some such thing. I can't find it anymore, and I can't remember which of my friends posted it. And then people started posting Lizzie Velasquez' TED talk. She has a rare genetic disorder that prevents her from gaining weight, and as a result, she is extremely emaciated. She's also blind in one eye. But Lizzie starts by talking about the positives in all of her physical challenges. The rest of the talk is really good, too, but that was the part that made me think some more. And then today I read this. There's a quote from an unspecified book on grief which reads: “You can’t choose your trials in life, but you can choose how you deal with them.  You can choose to become better or bitter.” And dude, I haven't had any trials like this lady has had (and I'm not asking for them- I'm just going to say that right here in the open, so everyone and God knows, okay?). The quote reminded me of when I was dealing with infertility, and how I consciously kept myself from becoming bitter about the whole experience. It helped to remind me that I still need to consciously keep myself from being bitter about anything.


I've always been the kind of person to count my blessings. I have had a lot of wonderful things happen in my life. But my anger at my body had been keeping me from thinking about myself in that way. Maybe I don't ovulate, but I do pregnant pretty well. I carried Ben to the day before his due date, and I probably would have had him on his due date, had it not been for all the interventions. I carried twins to full term all the way to my scheduled c-section. I never once had any physical issues while pregnant with them, and they were both the size of singleton babies. I have to admit that being healthily pregnant with twins made me feel like I had super powers. I had the opportunity to breastfeed all of my children, which was something that was important to me. In fact, I just finally weaned the twins three weeks ago. My body functions normally. I can move without restraint. I maybe can't run for as far as I'd like without getting winded, but my body can be trained to do it, if I would just take the time. I was blessed pretty decently with intellect (although my neurons are admittedly a bit rusty - I need to read more). My fingers are crafty with yarn and fabric. My body is a source of comfort to my children. They all snuggle me as they are on their way to sleep, and the first thing they do upon waking in the morning is coming into my bed to snuggle me there.

Maybe being on my period for 26.8% of my days sucks, but those days don't have to suck because of it. The time could go by much faster if I didn't dwell on the unfairness of it. Unfairness is the order of nature. I have to accept this once again if I want to be and stay a happy person. And I do. I want to model a love for myself and my body for my kids. I want that to be a normal thing for them. I know that my life will always be happier when I can love myself unconditionally for who I am.

You know you're super hormonal when...

I probably just scared off any guys that thought about reading this post.

Today I watch The Incredibles with my kids. If you haven't seen it, you can read the summary on imdb here. I've seen this movie several times. I owned it before I was even pregnant for the first time. It's not like I didn't know what was going to happen. But from the very beginning, I was getting all weepy and holding back tears. This happened pretty much through the whole thing, but especially whenever the kids were in danger. Yeah, teh hormones. I haz them bad.

I'm so frustrated by my seeming lack of ability to get things done. I have a big batch of peach applesauce I need to make. It's going to taste amazing. You know, when I do it, and I need to before the peaches go bad. But I have to clean the kitchen better than I have been. Which is to say, I need to do more than just dishes. Every time I start to make some sort of solid plan for anything (not just applesauce, but trying to incorporate any sort of routine into our lives), it's like my brain starts switching through radio stations. I haven't made a meal plan in I don't even know how long. All areas of my life are being affected at this point. Well, that isn't a hard thing considering that I really only have one area of my life.

I don't like the medication route, but I'm trying it because I don't know what else to do. So far it hasn't helped at all. So that's encouraging.

I'm not sure what else to write about tonight. My kids are still up, and they need to go to bed. I need to put them to bed. *sigh* Why does putting kids to bed have to be so hard? Okay, I have nothing else to relate right now.

Doing Things

I should be asleep. I stay up way too late virtually every night. I can't even really say why I do it except that I find so many things I want to read on the internet, and I fall into a worm hole that immediately spits me out four hours later. But really! I only read a couple of blogs! Okay, so that part isn't true. Don't you know that no one has discovered worm holes yet? Seriously, don't talk to people about that part. I don't need that kind of media buzzing around here. My house just isn't drop in ready.

Speaking of which, I've been struggling so much with my house lately, and I haven't been able to understand it. I finally feel like I have a handle on my depression. And well, I think I have for a while now. However, I am still so chronically disorganized and a mess. A hot mess. I'm tired of having stuff everywhere, but I just can't force my arms and legs to move about and do something about it. I can read about organizing and cleaning and that kind of stuff all day long. And I have. Well, figuratively. Most of my day is spent feeding three little boys with bottomless pits for stomachs.

Anyway, my sister mentioned that she might possibly have ADHD, and she sent me an online questionnaire about it. I took it and scored pretty high. So I talked to my counselor and my psychiatrist (two of the reasons I have a handle on my depression now), and they're like, oh yeah, it does sound like you probably have that. So it's kind of nice to know that there's a reason for this kind of 'doing' paralysis. I didn't really know it was a thing that happened to other people. And of course, it's other things, too. I won't bother typing it all out because is that really necessary? Let's just say I have a lot of the symptoms. But now I have to approach the 'doing' things from a different way. I have to change my thought patterns and learn new coping skills. And I hate it. It's annoying. It would be a lot easier if I could just be normal, right? But it also feels like a breakthrough for me because I feel like maybe my life can be different, and I can get my crap together. Because I really really need to get my crap together.

Dog Days of Summer

Let me tell you something about me. 

I am a sucker.

Seriously. My husband has been wanting another dog for a long time- long before Buddy died. I have not wanted another dog for a long time, and in fact, I told him I didn't want anymore dogs after our dogs died. I wanted to get some goats and chickens. I said this often enough that Ben started telling everyone that this was my desire. To complete strangers, he would say, "When my dogs die, Mommy wants goats and chickens." This is how much I decided not to get any more dogs.

I love dogs. I think they're great, but what I don't like is cleaning up after them. I don't like the hair everywhere, invading every part of my life. I don't like the stinky farts. I don't like cleaning up poop in the yard. I don't like realizing we've run out of dog food and having to make a special trip to get some. I don't like barking or slobbering or noses in my butt. 

Buddy spent a lot of his life with his eyes closed

But(t). I am weak. My loves are stronger than the don't likes. Annie has been clingy for a while. Since about a month before Buddy died, she's been following me all around the house and just parking herself wherever I am. It sounds kind of annoying, but it's comforting to me to have her around. She's so much calmer than she used to be, and she's so loving. She's been lonely since Buddy's been gone. She's had some separation anxiety, and it shows because she's been raiding the trash can when we leave. She doesn't leave evidence inside if she can avoid it, but I always find the trash outside, which is one of my don't likes. It's tough to lose part of your family, though. I know she's probably stressed because she doesn't understand why he never came back. 

Annie and Chris' shoe

I think about all the times I was just so fed up with the dogs while Chris was in Iraq, and I was just ready to post an ad on Craigslist and get rid of them. My ever shrinking (at the time) soft spot for them always won out. Well, that and my sense of responsibility as a pet owner. It was really hard to take care of them and three kids two and under at the same time. I'm glad I didn't snap and find new homes for them. 

Chris was looking at the dogs on the Boise Humane Society's website yesterday and telling me about the different dogs he liked, so of course, I had to pull up the site to look to. Then we looked at the Canyon County Animal Shelter's site, which is closer to home. Both shelters had a Basset Hound, even though that's not necessarily what we were looking for in a dog (Buddy was also a Basset Hound). We decided among the many other errands I had to run that we'd go to the closer shelter to see some dogs, partially to keep the kids happy while we were out. I didn't really have any intention of bringing home a dog yet.

The first dog we looked at was the Basset, Duke. He was so cute, and his coloring was the same as Buddy's. He was very playful with the kids. He exuded the Basset Hound personality. He did the regal derp, which happens almost every time a Basset is paying attention to something. It looks like this, and it's funny every time.

Photo credit: The Daily Puppy

At one point Chris called him buddy (which is his default name for all dogs and children), and I actually got a little misty eyed. Then we looked at a Rhodesian Ridgeback, General Lee. He seemed to be well tempered, but when we took him outside, he immediately ran around and found a spot to pee, and he did pee for what felt like ten minutes. Then he ran to find another spot and pooped. Then he ran to another spot and pooped again. Then he ran to another spot and pooped again. He finally came over to us for a bribe of a dog bone. He was nice, but....maybe it wasn't the best time for him to shine. I didn't feel any sparks. Then we looked at a cute little boxer mix, Tioga. She was sweet and unfortunately formerly abused. She was only a year and a half, but you could tell she'd had a litter of puppies already. The girl helping us with the dogs told us they knew her history back to when she was a year old, so they knew she'd had the puppies before she was a year old. She was very timid among my boisterous boys. I think she would have been swallowed by the chaos in my house. 

Sometime during this, while Logan, Ben, and I were waiting outside for Chris and Bruce to bring out another dog, Logan found a very muddy puddle and took a fall right onto his back. Thankfully, it was only up to his shirt, but he was soooo muddy. And it was hilarious to him, of course. Then he spent the rest of the time trying to get me to pick him up, which I eventually without thinking did.

We looked at some puppies, but I definitely knew I did not want a puppy. They're cute, but they're so much work. Maybe someday, but for now, no. Mostly, I wanted all the dogs to have happy homes. It's sad to see so many sweet dogs destined to be euthanized. It's so so so sad. We left without a dog, but Chris was giving me the "I really want a dog face" in the car. I thought about how lonely Annie was. But I also thought about cleaning up dog hair and picking up poop because I'm usually the one who does both. I thought about how empty it seems without two dogs around. So I made Chris a deal. We would have rotating schedules of scooping poop. He agreed to it, we turned around, and we took this guy home.

Derping regally requires a lot of sleeping in between, preferably on the furniture when the big people aren't looking

His first act of business as the new Basset Hound of the house was to steal Chris' cheeseburger when he was tending to the kids (I was out running the rest of my errands). He is seriously so much like Buddy. 

Fee Fi Foe Fum

I sat here trying to think of an accompanying phrase to the title here, but I'm drawing up blanks. You will find that the Bekah that exists here before you now is missing at least half of the brain she had when she last posted a year and a half ago. Chris might argue that I never had a whole brain in the beginning.

Seriously, yall. I cannot believe I have not posted to my blog in a year and a half. I mean, how have you all been spending your lives without knowing what I'm doing all the time?! Oh yeah, I think I'm related to or friends with all of my readers, so... you see me on facebook. But in the off chance you are a reader that I don't know personally (for one thing, I love you- I'll just get that out of the way now), I know that this year and a half of silence has been devastating for you. I'm so sorry.

Obviously, I am alive. Thankfully, my family is, too. So I won't bore you with what's been going on for the last year and a half. Things are the same except the boys have all gotten bigger. Well, they've all grown developmentally, too. I guess not all of our family is still with us. Our sweet stinky Basset Hound, Buddy, had to be put down about a month ago. He was seven and a half years old. His health problems had accumulated to the point of him not being able to see, hear, or hardly smell, and he had a huge ruptured cyst on his side that was quickly on its way to infection. Even if we had managed to get that one healed up, another one had started growing on his back, and he had so many other problems. It was still a difficult decision to make. I feel bad that we lied to Ben and told him Buddy died on his own, but he didn't. We didn't want Ben to think that we killed his dog for no reason. He's not quite old enough to grasp the concept of putting an animal out of its misery. We'll tell him when he's older and he understands, though. I don't like keeping things like that from him.

This year, I've gotten really into my garden. I tried gardening a few years ago, and it was an utter failure. My dogs lay in the garden beds all over the plants. Buddy liked to eat the plants. I had false morning glory growing up all over everything and pulling it down. Oh, and I'm terrible at watering plants sufficiently. It was a spectacular failure. Every year since then (well, except the year Chris was gone), I've planned on putting up a fence to keep dogs and kids out of the garden when I'm not out there. I finally did it. It's a cheap crappy wire fence, but it works. I built it with me own two hands. Then I discovered that my garden beds were completely overrun with ants. I tore out the old rotting wooden beds and built new ones out of cedar pickets like so: http://ana-white.com/2010/05/hack-natural-rustic-cedar-raised-beds.html. Although, mine aren't quite as gorgeous because this was actually my first ever successful wood building project. They get the job done, though. I also attached pvc hoop frames like this: http://groworganic.com/organic-gardening/articles/how-to-make-a-hoophouse-on-a-raised-bed.

As far as the ants go- I was able to plant and everything in one bed without them totally getting in the way or me getting bitten too much. The other bed was really bad, though. I couldn't stick a spade in the dirt without an eruption of ants overwhelming everything. I ordered some very expensive organic broad spectrum pesticide and sprayed the crap out of the bed. It worked very nicely, and I was able to finish filling the bed the rest of the way and plant. As of right now, ants are back again, but I'm not as worried about it now. I do have a few more things to plant in that bed, but I don't think the ants will be back in full force by the time I plant them. Maintaining the plants doesn't require disruption of the soil, so the ants won't be a problem if they get really bad again. Well, not until next year, anyway. Mostly, I am grateful that we don't have fire ants here. That would cause a real problem. What I need, though, is some sort of beneficial insect that eats ants. I can't do the pesticide often because it'll kill all the good bugs like the ton of black beetles I have hanging out in there. Also, when all the insects are killed in an area, it's prime space for more ants to move in because there's no competition. I seriously don't know how to win against those things. I'm going to be in trouble if they start farming aphids on my plants.

I've also solved my poor watering problem with a drip irrigation system. It took a lot of time and effort to set it up and numerous trips to Home Depot, but it's keeping the plants alive and happy, so that's good. I still have to put up a couple of trellises (made of pvc) and start training my tomatoes to climb them. Oh, and I need to get some stuff for a cage for my zucchinis. I hope I actually get some produce out of my garden this year. I will be so bummed if I put all this work in for nothing.

As far as everything else goes, I am full of demotivation. I could be on a demotivational poster. You wouldn't even need a caption. Just me with a frizzy ponytail and sweat pants. I find it very difficult to do anything that I am not interested in doing. It sounds lazy, but I don't think I'm lazy. I have to clothe, feed, and generally care for three children. I spend a lot of time doing something. And these things I'm not interested in doing are things that I want to do. Like cleaning. But it doesn't happen unless someone is coming over, and then it's really done just hastily right before they get here. It's a problem that I hope to solve at some point. I need a clean house, like, for reals.

Hopefully, I will remember to post more often. Remembering is the key word. I hardly ever think of my blog when I'm on the computer anymore. So we'll see.

Okay, so I'm being kind of cheap.

I should be posting something with actual substance since I haven't posted in forever, but I'm not.  Apologies in advance.  I'm blogging about a giveaway.  I love Mindy Gledhill.  She has such a beautiful voice, and I love singing with her music.  You should check her out here and here. 

Between West & Main is having a giveaway, and they're giving four lucky winners Mindy's new Christmas album, Winter Moon.  Gaaah!!  I want to wiiiin!  (Please say that like Nacho Libre in your head).  Anyway, you should head over there and enter.

And just so you're not too disappointed in my cheap post, I will throw you a bone.

Cheap post complete.

Ch-ch-ch-chia

I fully intended to post a lot sooner to prove Chris' comment on my last post wrong, but time gets away from you when you have a couple of hoovers perma-attached to your boobs.  Life now is full of broken sleep, changing diapers, nursing, nursing, nursing, and snuggling two sweet wonderful little newborn babies.  They're growing so fast already.  I'm so lucky. 
They're doing so well.  And so far, in comparison to Ben as a newborn, they're dream babies.  Obviously, I'm still sleep deprived, and it's hard to get anything done.  That's just how it is when you have a newborn or two.  They go back and forth between sleeping well on their own and requiring arms to hold them while they sleep, but I think with practice they'll get better at sleeping on their own.  I love holding them while they sleep, but necessity dictates that they will have to sleep out of arms sometimes.  Ben still needs me very much.  He's kind of a mama's boy.

A two for one special

They're here, folks.  We woke up ridiculously early last Tuesday morning (2/22) and went to the hospital to have us some babies.  It was really weird for me as I sat in triage for a non stress test for the babies and an IV for me as I thought about how I would be leaving there in a few days as a mother of three instead of one.  I didn't really have any anxiety about how the c-section would go, but I did have a bit of anxiety about the babies' health.  Just because that's what a mom tends to do.  Well, I do anyway.  I worry about the unknown.

My surgery started promptly at 7:30 am.  Half of the staff in the room had twin children (or triplets) and one person was a twin.  Everyone was also pretty excited about delivering my twins.  My spinal was administered easily, and it wasn't too painful.  They weren't kidding when they told me how fast it would take effect.  My legs were half numb by the time they pulled them up onto the table.  And then there was all the prep, and everyone chatted and joked.  It was a pretty pleasant atmosphere in spite of being mostly naked and numb on a big table with lots of strangers crowded around me.  And my stomach, of course, was just ridiculously huge.  Chris took his place behind the blue curtain at my head, and things got underway.

Pretty quickly, I heard my doctor proclaim the presence of Baby A's head and very shortly thereafter I heard an angry cry.  And then they pulled him the rest of the way out.  He was so mad about leaving, he started yelling about it before he was even entirely born.  After that, I felt more weird tugging around in my abdomen, and my doctor laughing about how slippery Baby B was.  Pretty quickly, they pulled him out, though.  We heard another angry cry.  I cried, of course.  It all seemed very unreal from the beginning until I heard those babies cry.

Bruce Banner (left) was born at 7:47 am, weighing 7 lbs 6.5 oz.  Logan X was born at 7:49 am, weighing 7 lbs 3.5 oz.  They are amazing and incredible and awesome.  And I'll tell you more about them later when I have slept some. :)

If you could take a nap for me, that'd be great.

I am so utterly tired.  And it's so hard to sleep.  I'm pretty sure I woke up fifty bajillion times last night just to roll my giant belly from one side to the other to keep my hips from having a revolt and killing me.  I felt bad about it because it was my husband's first night home (!!!!!!!!!!) on leave, and I'm sure I disturbed him more than once.  And then Ben came in to get in bed with us very early.  It took him awhile to get back to sleep, and the position he fell asleep in was you know, right up against me because the kid is a pretty snuggly little guy.  I love snuggles, but it's hard to sleep when you have so many kids on top of you.  I'm going to have to cut off his morning routine of coming into my room to go back to sleep.  I don't really know how I'm going to do it, though.  It's one of his favorite things. 
I have 3 days until my babies are born.  I'm 38 weeks pregnant today, and I am astounded that I've made it this far.  I am also just ridiculously huge. 

This is last night before I went out and ate a big delicious steak.  My stomach almost makes my butt look small, which really has just never happened before.  Just for comparison, here's my post at 39 weeks with Ben.  The distance is a lot different, but I think you'll be able to see through that eye trickery.  My belleh is stupidly big. 
I'm so excited!  And so nervous!  Two newborn babies just seems completely insane!  And yet, it will work somehow.  My mother in law managed to have three children who were five and under and successfully gestate twins to 41 weeks (I die.) before having them and subsequently raising them.  So, yes, it will work somehow.  And if I had to go to 41 weeks, I'm convinced I really would die.  A lot.  I also have so many family members and friends who have helped and are willing to continue helping me.  I've been very blessed on that front, for sure.  My mom is a huge help with Ben.  He loves his Nana.  He tells me so, "I yuv Nana," he says.
He is also now obsessed with his Dad, now that he's home.  It's so adorable, and I love it.  We were both afraid that Ben might forget Chris, but that has definitely not been the case.  Ben talks to Chris on the phone, and when he saw him at the airport, he knew exactly who he he was.  I couldn't see Ben's face, but I could see the sides of his cheeks in a huge smile. 
I'm sure I have more I'd like to write here, but I also have a husband with whom to spend my time (finally!).  So that's that.  I'll try to post pictures of the babies as soon as I can after they're born. 

Biggest watermelon ever

I am currently 34 and a half weeks along now.  And also very very tired pretty much all the time.  And also it hurts when I walk.  My pelvic floor is not a happy camper these days.  Let me show you why.

I'm smuggling three hams and a turkey in there.

The kids are growing well.  The last growth scan I had two weeks ago showed them each to be about four and a half lbs each.  I imagine they're easily at least five lbs now.  I'm not having contractions other than the usual Braxton Hicks, and my cervix is pretty sleepy, just like me.  I have four more weeks until my c-section.  I don't have a specific date yet, but I will on Thursday at my next appointment.  I would wish to go a little sooner, but I'm pretty excited to have Chris home for the birth.  I think it will be worth it to do whatever I can to keep them in there until he gets home.  Exciting stuff here, people.  So why am I so sleepy?  Oh yeah, I have a crazy two year old.

My mom is here now!  I'm so glad that she's here for so long.  She's staying until May- my sister Eve is having a baby in May, so she'll be stealing Mom back from me.  Mom's been such a big help already.  She cleans for me and watches Ben.  Also, she's a great friend to have with me.  You get a little crazy when you only have a toddler to talk to all the time.  And man, we can talk.  Mom and I, I mean- not Ben and I.  Although Ben is pretty talkative, too.  But he says stuff like, "Mommy sleeping?  Ben sleeping, too" right before he puts his cold little fingers in my eyes and nose and laughs.  Ben will pretty much never sleep out of choice.  Ever.  He will also repeat everything he hears, like when I was talking to Chris on the phone and telling him that someone was a butthole.  How does Ben know to which word is potentially the most offensive word to repeat?

Baby A is now head down, which doesn't matter much because I'm getting sliced and diced, but Baby B is still transverse.  Baby A's butt is in Baby B's face.  This is a 3d picture of the two of them.  It was difficult getting any 3d pictures of either of them because they weren't very cooperative.  Baby A kept his face hidden, and Baby B kept moving all around.  Every time the tech would try taking a 3d image of his face, he would wiggle around, and it would look all blobby monster baby.  Or maybe that's just what he looks like, but I hope not.  So the only somewhat good picture we have of them is this one, which is kind of sad.  But funny.

I'm almost ready for these babies.  My mom helped me clean out all the junk in my bedroom, and I think we'll be working on my craft room next.  I have a lot of diapers to make.  Yes, I plan on doing cloth with the twinkles.  Cloth diapering Ben hasn't really been all that different then using disposable diapers.  It's actually easier in some ways because I don't have dirty diaper trash to take out, and I also don't have to go to the store to buy diapers.  The laundry isn't a big deal.  It's just one load every other day.  I also just recently installed a sprayer onto my toilet downstairs to spray poop off into the toilet before I wash.  It's wonderful, and my washing machine is kept a lot cleaner.  The only inconvenience I have is when I have to strip the diapers because I still haven't really figured out exactly what works for them.  But once I do, it won't be an issue anymore.  I'm definitely looking forward to saving all that money, though.  Sometimes I still have a hard time adjusting to living on one income even though it's been almost two years since I got laid off.  I still feel guilty for not contributing monetarily to our household, but I try to help out where I can.

I'm getting more and more excited to meet our new babies as the time gets so close, and I'm becoming more ready for them to be here.  I mean, seriously, did you see my belly up there?  I didn't know my skin could stretch so much, and they're not even done growing yet.  But all in good time.  I'm even more excited to have my husband home to greet them with me.

Ringing in the New Year

Thankfully, New Year's is not quite as bad without Chris around.  I'm doing what he and I would be doing anyway.  You know, just sitting around.  Granted, it would be much nicer if we could do this together, but I'm not as sad about it as I was about Christmas.  I'm looking forward to the new year, so I've got that going for me.  We actually had a New Year's party last year.  It was really fun and all, but it was a lot of freakin' work.  And also, a lot of tired kids.  But the food was good.  I made a bunch of southern food.  It's tradition in the south to have collard greens and black eyed peas for good luck for the new year.  Well, I didn't actually make the black eyed peas, but I made collard greens (and they were actually good!) and a bunch of other delicious greasy fattening food.  I'm thinking I might make all of that yummy stuff when my brother comes up to visit with my mom in tow in a couple of weeks.  I have hambones from Christmas that need to be used.  Don't worry, they're frozen.

Speaking of frozen, it's been so incredibly cold here lately.  I think it stayed in the twenties all day today.  It's killing me!  Our house is kind of old.  I mean, not really old, but it was built in the 60's, so it could use a whole lot of upgrades.  Our windows are all original, which means they're crap.  Our furnace is also original, which means it is pretty much the crappiest.  We also have a wood stove in the basement, which is original, but surprisingly not crap at all.  So I heat the house at night with a fire.  Because Idaho is the last frontier, I guess.

I never knew there was anyone left who actually heated their home with a wood stove by choice until I came to Idaho.  My in laws don't even have central heating, but their stove is huge and it heats their house easily.  They also cut down their own wood on their property and pay $5 for electricity in the winter.  Okay, so I'm guessing on their electric bill, but I'm sure it's not the awful amount that shows up on my bill every month.  Although, my sister has since told me her in laws use a wood stove to heat their home in the winter, and they live in Georgia.  But they also used to live in Idaho before they moved there, so maybe they got the idea from their frontier life out in the Idaho sticks.

Hey, look!  I'm huuuuuge!  With hopefully 7 weeks to go!

Anyway, wood heat is pretty nice, but it's getting harder for me to bring wood in from outside.  I only bring in an armful each night, maybe two if I start a fire earlier than usual.  I will probably have to start actually asking people for help soon.  You know, either that or do everything myself and go into labor.  I have such a hard time asking for and accepting help.  I'm not really sure why.  It's not like I'm cold calling folks and asking them to scrub my toilets with their tooth brushes.  So very many people have offered to help me in different ways, and I haven't taken many of the offers yet.  Well, I haven't needed to yet.  But that time is finally coming, and I have anxiety from it.  Like I said, I don't know why.  I really like helping people because I like how it makes me feel.  Why would I want to deny others of that?

Well, I must go tend to a choo choo crisis in the dining room now.

There's a choo choo crisis every five minutes in this house.  I'm not even exaggerating.

Yeah, it was awesome.... not.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hut (work with me here)

Nothing was stirring, except for Ben's butt

I had just gone to bed after setting out presents with care

In hopes that peaceful sleep would be the night's fare

Young Benji was sleeping, his bum poking straight up

His toots filled the air as he gripped his water cup

I slept a blissful hour or so, with dreams of delight

Imagining the morning scene after we'd awaken from night

When over in Ben's bed I heard a great splatter

I sprang from a dead sleep to see what was the matter

Away to fetch a diaper, I raced to the boy

Not expecting the explosion his gut had deployed

I lifted him up- I'd just change him as he slept

Unfortunately I discovered his jammies to be quite wet

I carried the sleeping boy at arms length to the bath

Hoping there would be nothing to trip over in my path

Ben woke as I stripped him of a poo filled sleeper

And rinsed him quickly in the tub before the water grew deeper

The middle of the night surprise bath filled him with cheer

I just prayed that more sleep might be near

Poo laundry was washing and the little boy clean

Snuggling me in new pjs with his eyes all agleam

I kissed his face and told him good night

Laid him in his bed and turned off the light

This story has no moral, but I attest to it's truth

Santa brought me nothing this Christmas except a big Benji poop.

Really, when stuff like that happens, you've got to laugh about it to stay sane, am I right?  And this seriously happened to me at about 2 am on Christmas morning in every detail, plus a bunch of other details that had no rhymes to go with them.  

Christmas morning was great.  Ben was happy and excited.  He loved everything he opened and immediately demanded that I remove it from its packaging so that he might play with it right then.  So it took a while to convince him to open all the presents.  I had been planning on hosting Christmas dinner, but seeing as how the plague saw fit to visit our home the night before, I apologetically canceled.  There are a lot of little ones in our family, and I didn't want any of Chris' sisters to have 2 am poosplosions either.  Meaning dealing with their kid's poosplosions, but I guess it would be unpleasant to be the one actually having the poosplosion, too.  Anyway, I digress.  I do that a lot.  I ended up being alone on Christmas, which made me kind of sad, but Ben was super happy and crazy about everything, so that helped.  

I cooked the hams I was planning on making for dinner because they were already thawed and they were from my in laws' farm (yum yum homegrown pig meats).  The ham was pretty much incredible.  Ben also really liked it.  He kept asking for pieces as I was cutting it up.  

I hope everyone had a great holiday.  I'm glad it's over because I don't have to be sad about it anymore.  I can just look forward to the babies being born and Chris being home for a couple of weeks and my mom coming out to stay for a while.  All good things coming up in just a short time.  It will be difficult and sleep depriving, but also doable.  I have lots of knitting I need to do for the babies, so that will be fun in the meantime.  And also decluttering the remaining rooms in my house that I haven't decluttered yet.  Which are three.  Well, maybe two and half is more like it.  I think if I talk about it enough, I might be able to nag myself into actually doing it.  Like, "Holy crap, Bekah, okay, I'll do it, just shut up about it already!"  I'm hoping it works out that way.  Although, I could just end up ignoring myself.  Meh.  

Happy Christmas!

So my last post was kind of whiny and sad.  Sorry about that.  I do think I'm afforded some mope time what with Chris gone and all, but I don't need to spread it around.  I'm healthy, all my kids are healthy, and I have a warm home.  I should concentrate more on the positives in my life.  Like babies.

I'll be 30 weeks tomorrow.  So far, I've had no complications whatsoever.  My dr worried briefly about my cervix, but an ultrasound showed it to be completely fine.  The babies were 2 lbs 7 oz and 2 lbs 8 oz at 27 1/2 weeks, so I think they're probably three lbs each or close to it now.  They move a lot, and I love feeling them move just as much as I loved feeling Ben move around when I was pregnant with him.  Although, I'm sure they will be a lot more painful than Ben was really soon.  I should really take a belly picture to post.  I'm so crazy huge.  I think I'm full term size now.  I've gained less than I gained with Ben, though.  I think I'll either gain the same amount as I did with Ben, or maybe a little bit more by the end of this pregnancy.  Most of the weight is in my belly this time, though, less in the flabby arms and double chin.  It's coming, though.  I'm sure of it. 

I'm pretty excited about tomorrow morning.  I made a video for Ben at Portable North Pole.  You fill out some questions and upload some pictures, and it gives you a personalized message from Santa.  Ben freaking loved it.  He squeals with delight every time he watches it.  And now he thinks that anyone with a white mustache is Santa.

Yeah, anyone.  I'm pretty sure he probably won't connect the dots between Santa and all the presents he's going to get tomorrow, but I'm still pretty excited.  Santa was a pretty exciting thing to me when I was little.  I can't wait to share that with Ben.  I also made a stocking for him because I couldn't find any to buy that I liked.  I found some pretty cute Christmas John Deere fabric and lined it with green fleece.  Ben liked it a lot because it has tractors on it.  The kid likes tractors.  He always has. 

Anyway, I should probably stop procrastinating now.  I'm throwing the Christmas dinner at my house tomorrow, so I need to tidy things up a bit before it gets too late.  And also start a fire.  I'm freezing. 

Merry Christmas (or whatever you happen to celebrate) and Happy New Year to you and yours!

A Sorta Kinda Christmas

The last Christmas I spent without Chris was our first one as a married man and wife.  I'm pretty sure most people know the story of how we got married 3 weeks before he ran away to Iraq the first time around.  I was living in GA with my family, and we had a crazy cross country trip of a wedding and semi-honeymoon.  That Christmas was also the last one I spent with my blood relatives. 

Since then, I've adopted the traditions of Chris' family.  My family doesn't really have many of those, short of eating delicious food all together, of course.  My family does food and togetherness more than anything else.  Not that we're a negligent bunch or anything.  I'm just the youngest of six, so when I got older, the kids part of Christmas (meaning the fun part, of course) went by the wayside.  When I married Chris, however, four of the five of his siblings were still minors living at home.  Which is really weird, now that I think about it.  All but one is out now and is or has been married and have children.  Anyway, I digress.  My point is they have traditions, and I've adopted them, or rather I have been adopted into them. 

I generally take change pretty well.  I've always been adaptable and just roll with it.  But this year, I'm realizing how much these traditions mean to me.  Since Chris is gone, I feel myself clinging to the familiarity of Christmas.  But it's also not quite the same this year, not only because of Chris, but because his parents and brother are living on the other side of the country until next summer.  Chris' other siblings and I are, of course, doing Christmas things together.  But it doesn't feel the same.  I feel lonely for a Christmas I know.  For a Christmas with my husband home with me.  For a Christmas together. 

He'll be home next Christmas.  And we'll have even more family by then.  I look forward to that.  But I also lament that he won't be home this year for Ben's first Christmas that he'll actually be aware that *something* is happening.  It's the most wonderful time of the year, but also the most difficult when you're the wife of a deployed soldier...

This is going to be a short one

I haven't spent much time on the computer since I came out to GA, so I haven't made any time to blog.  Pretty lame excuse, I know, but it's true.
 
Last night we had a trunk or treat at church.  I made a skunk costume for Ben to match the hat I crocheted for him in August.  I thought he was pretty cute.   

It has a tail, too, but I didn't really get any good pictures of it.  He didn't want to wear it at all when I tried to try it on him after I made it.  He chased his tail around and tried to pull it off when he caught it.  The next night when we were getting ready for the trunk or treat, I told him people would give him candy if he wore his costume.  He had no problems wearing his costume then. 

Here's a picture of 22 weeks.  I'm so big.  Seriously.  I'm going to be crazy huge by the time they're ready to come out. 

I'm thinking it might be nice for my husband if I try to update my blog more.  It will be good to give him an update on everything.  Not that he's been dropping me hints or anything... (I'll give you a hint- he has)

Since my last post, Chris left.  It sucks.  I miss him a lot.  It's definitely different this time than the first time he was deployed.  My every moment is consumed by Ben, so there isn't a lot of time for self pity.  Ben is talking so much now, and he's a lot of fun.  There are days when he's obviously about to turn two- testing his limits at every turn and throwing fits left and right.  And sometimes it coincides with a very difficult day for me which makes it an even more difficult day for both of us.  But things are usually better for both of us if I force myself to be more patient.  So I've been doing that a lot more, and that's good.  Ben is much more fun to be around when I can be calm about his chaos.  A side benefit of that is he's much more willing to help clean up his messes- to the point that he's even occasionally picked up his toys before I even asked him to.  If I can raise neat kids, that would be amazing.  Because, uh, I'm not neat.  Neither is Chris.  We're the anti-neat.

In spite of my self professed disorganization, I have actually been able to keep my house clean since Chris has been gone.  This is pretty good because when Chris leaves, I pretty much don't feel like cooking or cleaning at all.  And I didn't cook at all for a while there.  But I finally broke down and bought groceries, and I've challenged myself not to eat at any restaurants at all.  It was a lot harder at first, but it got easier.  I think these things help me not to be depressed, too.  Cleaning house sucks, but if I stay on top of it, I guess it's not so bad.  I still have to wrangle my laundry before I leave, though.  It feels like a huge ginormous overwhelming task, but when I finally make myself do it, it probably won't be a big deal.

The twins have been moving more and more as of late.  They're still not very strong, so it doesn't hurt when Baby A kicks me in the cervix yet.  I'm getting so big, though.  Seriously.  I just went to take another belly picture because I've not been so on top of those.  I took my first one at roughly the same point as the first one I took with Ben.  This is almost 17 weeks with Ben.  My belly was still lumpy with pre-baby fats, but it was at this point that I finally had a uterus with a baby in it poking a little bit outward.

And here is almost 17 weeks with Things 1 and 2.  I realize the distance is different, but you can see the bigness with the second that is not in the first.  I'm already wearing maternity clothes in this picture, people. 

And here is me tonight at 19 weeks.  I didn't realize how much I had grown in the last two weeks.  Holy crap.  And considering I will be having a c-section at 38 weeks (I'd like to hold out longer, but I know that when I get there, I will probably be ready to do anything to get them out), I'm half way, y'all.  Also, 38 weeks is considered full term for twins, and their bodies are just as fully developed as a 40 week singleton.  Just so's you know I'm not planning on getting them cut out of there before they're ready on purpose (crossing fingers that I don't have pre-term labor with these here babies).

Anyway, the point is- I'm fat, people.  And I'm getting fatter exponentially.  I'm totally okay with this, though.  If I'm growing, that means they're growing.  I don't know if you remember, but when I was pregnant with Ben, I was always worried that he'd have some kind of congenital defects.  Not that it would have affected our love for him in the least bit.  I just felt like it was just too lucky for us that we finally were having a baby and he might be completely normal and healthy.  It was really lucky, and I'm so grateful.  But this time around, I'm so terrified of pre-term labor and having the babies before they're ready and what if they're too little and they die?  I'm afraid of not being able to take home any babies at all.  Or taking home one instead of two (is it greedy of me to want both of the babies I'm growing?  Okay, no, I know it's not).  This time around, I feel like we were so lucky to get two babies from barely even trying (one IUI!  one!  And I only had 2-3 follicles ready.  If I only had two eggs drop, that was a 100% fertilization and implantation rate, y'all.  That just doesn't happen for us!  But it did.).  Anyway, it's just crazy pregnant lady brain.  Every pregnant woman worries about her unborn child/ren.  And the worry just never stops, even after they're born.

About the child of mine that I birthed almost! 2! whole! years! ago!  I know I talked about him already, but I can talk about him some more.  We've changed up our sleeping arrangement again.  Having him in the pack n play in my room just was not working.  I thought if I gave it enough time, it would, but it didn't.  It took him forever to fall asleep, and every five minutes of that forever, he would stand up to request that I cover him up again.  I know, I know- the easy answer is just to stop doing it and eventually he'll stop asking, right?  He'd scream and scream and scream and scream.  Now, I didn't reinforce the screaming by giving him what he wanted, but it made for nights that were horrible for both of us.  And I didn't want to keep doing that, so I would get up and cover him up again the next night.  Now that I have to roll myself out of bed (okay, that's an exaggeration- it's more like a shimmy-hop on my butt), I tired of the constant up and down.  So I moved him back into my bed with the reasoning that I don't care if he plays until he goes to sleep, if he wants me cover him up, I don't even have to lift my head, and as a rule- he may not play with my hair to get to sleep.  So, there are pros and cons- I'm happy I don't have to get up and he's happy to be sleeping next to me.  However, the likes to be touching me AT ALL TIMES, which makes me crazy.  Also, his playing before he goes to sleep consists of ring around the mommy (crawling all the way around me multiple times and laughing hysterically) and/or sticking packing peanuts (don't ask) into the floor fan in the room and consequently having it scare the crap out of me because I think he's getting hurt by the fan- which makes me jump up, completely wide awake and unable to wind back down into sleepy land.  Okay, in fairness to him, he's only done it one time yesterday at nap time.  The crawling around me thing happens almost every night.

I know I'll have to get him out of my bed before the babies come, but I'm still trying to figure out how.  But we will do it somehow, out of necessity.  But not until after I get back from Georgia.  Oh, yeah, I'm going there for six weeks.  Chris is in Mississippi, and I'll be able to go and see him before he leaves the country.  It's about a six and a half hour drive to my family from there, so I figured I'd go ahead and make my last trip out to GA for a long while.  I leave in less than a week.  I still have so much left to do...  Anywho, I'll leave you with some pictures of the boy.

Ben's playing in his dad's footlocker before he left.

He's modeling a hat I made for my cousin's little boy's Halloween costume.  He loved it so much I had to chase him around the house to take it back to send it to said cousin.

Oh, the dramz!

Okay, so they're actually letting Chris come home everyday after formation, and probably will keep doing so until he has to leave on Monday.  Which is also my birthday.  Boo!  It's a good thing I'm not all into my birthday anymore.  It's just really not a big deal anymore.  I don't think I've actually even had a cake in years.  Which is fine because I don't like cake.  That's probably why I never have one. 
Anyway, I'm sure I'll probably be pretty upset next week when I leave Chris at the airfield.  I'm thinking I should be able to see him when he has pass again right before he leaves the country.  We don't know when it will be, but I have an idea of around the time it *should* be.  So Ben and I are going to GA for a little while to spend Thanksgiving with my family and also be ready to drive to wherever Chris is when he goes on pass (he'll most likely be at one of two bases in the southeast). 
I'm so insanely tired.  I'm always tired right now.  Ben and the babies are pretty much sucking the life force out of me.  Which is as expected, but it's pretty much kicking my butt.  I keep waking up in the middle of the night at the tiniest little sounds, and then it takes me two hours to get back to sleep.  I'm pretty sure this didn't start happening to me last pregnancy until third trimester.  It's so frustrating, though.  I'm so glad Ben still naps, though.  If he stops wanting to nap before he's three and a half, I'm going to die.  Period. 
Blah.  This is so boring.  I don't blame you if you stop reading now.  Uh, if anyone is actually reading this now.  Hello? *echoes*  Yeah, I thought so. :) 

I got so bored just re-reading what I had written that I wandered off to read other people's blogs for a while last night.  I found this great charity album that was put together by Pacing the Panic Room.  The writer's step-son has Smith-Magenis Syndrome, which is an uncommon genetic disorder that affects the individual's physical and cognitive characteristics.  More research is needed, of course, and the proceeds from this album are 100% going towards that.  And the music is pretty awesome.  Children's music usually grates on my brain.  I HATE it.  You will never find a Wheels on the Bus cd in my house.  Because of course, Ben would love it SO much that he'd want to listen to it a million trillion times a day.  Perhaps I'm a really horrible mother because of this deliberate omission in his childhood (I don't care).  I already have to bargain with him as to how many times I will read his new tractor book to him in one sitting.  I didn't even know he knew the word 'tractor'.  Anyway, the music is for kids, but definitely enjoyable for an adult.  Ben is currently dancing around the room to "Potty Time" and yelling "POTTY!!!!".

We saw the babies again this past week.  I'm still not quite far along enough for their gender bits to be big enough for accurate identification.  However, the sonographer's guess is two boys.  TWO BOYS!!!  I'm may have three boys, y'all!  Just thinking about it makes me really really tired.  I was SO sure I was having a boy and a girl, but I think it was mostly in interest of self preserving my sanity (and also buying cute girl clothes).  So yeah, my sanity?  Will be losing it.  Baby A is pretty much definitely a boy, but she wasn't so sure about Baby B.  So we'll see in a month. 

Also, mah belly is huge.  One day I just looked kind of dumpy and overweight.  The next day I woke up and had a pregnant belly.  I just looked through my archives for comparison with my last pregnancy, and I'm already so much bigger than last time.  I'll have to take a picture because, uh, I've been too lazy to take any belly pictures thus far.  Except for a really crappy one on my phone, but I'm not putting that on here. 

Now if you'll excuse me, Ben is having a crisis because he can run his trains across the air vent in the floor.  I think he thinks it's supposed to be a track...

Chris is home on pass.  He has today and tomorrow left.  Time just doesn't stop.  No matter how much I wish for it to stop or will it to stop with my mind ('cause, you know, the whole 'willing things to happen with your mind' totally works normally...), time completely disregards my desires.  For the past several months, time has been somewhat of an aggressor in my life- constantly pushing me forward, hurtling towards some unknown future.  Well, unknown except for the fact that I knew my husband would have to go, and that is what I've wanted to avoid.  I've been trying very hard not to think about his impending absence, but the day is almost here.  I can  no longer avoid confronting his departure.

It's been easy to hold it together, simply because I've been in a sort of denial of time.  There's always been more time, so I would make the best of it.  But now there is no more time.  Well, a day and a half.  I have him for a day and a half more.  My house will feel so lonely when he leaves.


P.S.  I disabled comments on this post because I'm not looking to have a pity party of any sort.  I know folks feel bad for me and wish that it didn't have to be this way, and I appreciate those good feelings from people.  I just wanted to express what I'm feeling right now.

Hey y'all.  As usual, I've had a ton of ideas for blog posts in the past however long it's been since I last posted.  But I don't feel like writing any of them (except for maybe the one about nose picking- but do you really want to read about that?).  The husband has left for AT, which means I have about a handful of days left that I get to see him.  A few days in about a month when AT ends and a few days in MS right before he leaves the country. 

It's going to be hard for me.  It already is.  I miss him like crazy, and he just left yesterday.  It'll be really hard for him, too.  We're several years out of the newlywed phase, but we're still just as crazy about each other.  No.  More crazy about each other, I think.  But I worry most about how hard it's going to be on Ben.  He really loves his dad.  His eyes light up when Chris comes home from work, and Ben runs to the door to give him a hug.  He's used to Chris being gone for a weekend here and there for drill, but he'll probably start looking for his dad around the house soon. 

We recorded Chris reading him bedtime stories, so I can show them to him every night.  We also had some family pictures taken (which is kind of hilarious because Chris and I are not very photogenic- I'm pretty sure most of the pictures are of us looking weird and Ben being completely adorable), so I can put them in a book for Ben to look at whenever he wants to. 

Side note: This is so not the time period I would normally choose for family pictures.  I seriously should have planned better and done them three months ago when I weighed two babies + a food baby less (Food baby = when you eat a bunch of food and look pregnant).  I'm at that stage where I don't actually look pregnant, but I've obviously gained weight.  I just look like I've been eating way too many sloppy joes.  I'm not really complaining about it.  I don't mind.  I just don't think I would have immortalized my pillsbury dough paunch with pictures if I had thought about it sooner. 

Bah!  So as I was writing this last night Ben woke up and wanted to go back to sleep with me while playing with my hair.  Well, that just wasn't going to happen.  That's how I used to put him to sleep a few months ago, and we're not going back there.  He was pretty insistent about it.  So I ended up having to go to bed while helping him to go back to sleep in his own bed (he'll go to sleep on his own (normally), but he won't go to sleep by himself- he needs someone in the room).  But this is why he did it:  I put him to sleep that way one night.  I stayed the night at my mother in law's house, and it was the easiest option to get him to sleep without disturbing everyone else in the house.  One! night!  I've learned my lesson.  Thankfully, he stayed asleep once he finally fell back to sleep last night.

I will be happy when this whole deployment thing is over, although it will be triple the crazy when Chris gets home.  I hope the babies will be good sleepers.  Seriously.  If I have two more sleepers like Ben, I will probably die.    

Aaaaaaand then my brain exploded.

As you may remember, if you have known me for any length of time since I birthed my son, we have sleep issues.  No.  He has sleep issues.  After my last post about it, I followed some of the advice I received.  First, I just ignored him when he got out of bed (we had a baby gate set up in the doorway, so he couldn't get out- Parent A or B would sit in a chair outside the door).  But the problem with this method was that once he realized I wouldn't play the game of putting him back into bed, he just played.  He sleeps with a floor fan going in his room.  It was really hard not to laugh at him when he would squat in front of the fan and yell to hear his voice get chopped up.  So, anyway, this was not helping him get to sleep. 
Next method was to put his mattress on the floor beside our bed with the hope that he would settle down to sleep if he was sleeping where everyone else was sleeping.  Ha.  Yeah right.  The new game was to climb onto the bed and jump all over Mom and Dad.  Again and again and again. 
So now, we still have him in our room, but we brought in the pack n play.  And that is his new bed.  He seems to be adjusting to sleeping in it okay for nap time, but you can just forget about bedtime.  We do our routine- the same every night- he's always yawning and rubbing his eyes during stories.  I know he's freaking tired.  But as soon as we close the last book, he jumps up and has a party.  He goes completely wild.  The end of story time is his cue to wake up and NEVER GO TO SLEEP.  In the past week and a half, the shortest length of time it has taken to get him to sleep has been maybe half an hour, which is definitely not typical.  Most nights, it takes an hour and a half.  Tonight, it took three hours.  THREE HOURS!!  And we don't just put him in his bed and leave him there.  One of us lays in our bed beside him, so he knows it's time to go to sleep.  But it's such a huge thing that happens every single night, and it's killing me!  But I just don't know what to do.  I can only hope that eventually he will just sleep already.  Because really, I got nothin'.

 

*sigh* I love that kid more than anything.  Even if he makes me crazy.  (Not a new picture, but still cute.)

So, we saw the twins again last Friday.  They're growing and their hearts are beating.  And according to the old wives tale about heart rates, we're having two girls.  But I also remember that Ben's heart rate was pretty high this early, but it went down further later on. 
I had my first appointment with my OB on Monday.  I will just say now that I love my OB.  She also did fertility treatments, and she had triplets.  So she doesn't take this multiples thing lightly.  I'm glad because I've been getting a little freaked out by all the potential complications that are more likely with each extra baby you're carrying.  She gave me a book, When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets, or Quads, and I'm really glad.  I guess I just had this idea that with twins, you're just a little more pregnant, and it would be a lot like a singleton pregnancy, but bigger.  I had this idea that you couldn't really do much about potential complications unless you're unlucky enough to have them.  And I'm sure some of that is true, but apparently there is a lot you can do to try and prevent bad things from happening.
Also, one of the things that's really stressed in this book is how much more weight you need to gain with extra babies and how quickly you need to gain it.  Now, I'm not on the small side.  I am a large milkshake.  And even taking that into account, I'm supposed to gain 20-25 lbs by week 20.  I am now 9weeks and several days, and I have gained one pound so far.  I don't even know how I'm going to do this, y'all.  Now, I totally buy into this business of the weight gain.  Studies show a strong correlation between the weight a mother of multiples gains during pregnancy and the babies' birth weights.  I would really like to be able to take my babies home as soon as possible after they're born, you know?  But I just don't know how I'm going to be able to eat that much.  And then there's all the water to drink and the milk.  They advise drinking a quart of whole milk a day.  A quart!  That's a meal in itself!  Well, at least the Zofran seems to be working well enough to allow me to eat and cook.  That is a definite plus there. 

I'm sure I'll do it all somehow.  I'm just overwhelmed.  I'm freaked out about Chris leaving so soon.  We have no more weekends together.  Well, just one, but I don't really count it because he has to use the entire time getting ready for Annual Training.  And then we get to have a few days together before he's mobilized.  There's just not enough time.  I need him.  I'm worried about what to do when I get so big I can hardly move, and it will just be me and Ben.  How will I take care of him?  How will I give him the snuggles and kisses and loves he'll need from his mama?  And more practically, how will I change his diapers when I can't pick him up or get up off the floor once down there?  I've gotten plenty of offers for help, but I can't really call someone every time Ben needs a diaper change.  I have more worries than I have answers.   I hope I figure it out before I get there.