why I quit

October 29, 2014October 29, 2014 / emmykay / 14 Comments

Well, it’s taken me a few months to come out with this, but I quit my day job.

Yup. Quit.

Good-bye.

Donesies.

You should know, first and foremost, I loved my day job. Yeah, there were crappy days and sometimes crappy seasons, but I love to work. I’m kind of a junky like that.

Specifically, I loved the people I worked for and with. Every day was new and fresh and different. That was excellent.

But…

After a night of fitful sleeping (the twins did this sleep regression thing for like, a year, that just about ended me), I would awake to the sweet sound of my alarm clock. Or, in a wave of terror and panic, I would awake to two eyes staring at me from three inches away from my face. Either way, most work mornings were terrible. Corralling twin two year olds, convincing them to wear the clothes I wanted them to wear (for expediency’s sake), getting them moving in the right direction (towards the door) and also making sure that I was presentable – all by 7 a.m. so that we could run out the door, stop at Starbucks, drop the girls at their sitter and arrive at work on-time – was a fiasco. Nearly every day someone cried. Maybe it was the twins. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was a squall line of stormy tears that ended almost as quickly as it began. Maybe it was a freaking hurricane that lasted two days (“Mom. Mom. MOMMY. Remember how yesterday SHE wore the pink dress and I didn’t?” Commence tears. For two days.). But there were almost always tears trying to leave the house.

Oh, and last winter I was very pregnant and it was -20 several mornings.

It was … amazing? Yes. Amazing. Like, amazing that I didn’t develop some sort of twitch.

Or maybe I did.

Anyway, that was just the mornings. If I had night meetings, my mom (St. Mary Kay) did pick ups and I arrived home after bedtime, exhausted. If I didn’t have night meetings, I picked up two tired and hungry two year old toddlers and schlepped them home to try to make something that looked like dinner that, very often, they wouldn’t eat anyway. And then, because hygiene has always been a priority in our house, I’d hose the kids off in a very unfun bath, sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” as fast as I could, and put them to sleep.

I’d like to pause right now and give a big shout out to single parents out there.

SINGLE PARENTS! Holy crap. How do you do this, ALL THE TIME? Seriously. Good for you. GOOD FOR YOU. Single parents do not get enough credit or sleep or time off. While Frank was gone for four days each week, I was by no means a single parent. I had a safety net that came home and let me sleep and made breakfast and did tuck-ins. And baths. So, all I’m saying is, I have a strong appreciation for the legit single parents. You rock.

So, back to me.

I did this three days a week. On the fourth day, because Jesus is kind and my Mother-In-Law loves her grandchildren (St. Sandy), the kids would get to stay home and paint and color and have fabulous tea parties with GrahSandy.

And THEN, Frank would come home. Now, while a lot of people do point out that he had the benefit of a full night’s sleep at a hotel and dinners out and so on, WHICH HE TOTALLY DID AND I NEVER FORGOT THAT FOR EVEN ONE MINUTE, the flipside is that he was staying in a hotel with paper-thin walls, in an uncomfortable bed and eating at Chili’s-type restaurants for every.single.meal. As an aside, I do not actually want to know how his body has been chemically altered by that lifestyle, but if any scientists are curious about the effects of Chipotle-Chili’s-Panda Express-only food pyramid lifestyles, Frank is totally available.

And then he had a terrible commute to and from work. Thanks to the brilliant Wright Amendment (which ended on 10/13/14 – woot!), Frank could never fly non-stop to Dallas from Midway for work. He always had to stop. Sometimes he had to change planes. No matter what, a generally short 2 1/2 hour flight would be dragged out at least an extra hour or so – possibly more.

Once he landed in Chicago, he had another hour to two hour drive home, depending on traffic. His route often covered four Interstates/Tollways/Expressways, so every time he has to exit/enter a new road, there was a significant opportunity for a back up.

So that was fun for him.

Often he would walk in the door and I would launch the nearest twin in his general direction as a means of saying “hello darling.” He learned to reflexively drop the suitcase in order to catch the child. He’s spry.

Fortunately I didn’t work on Fridays, so we used Fridays to catch up on stuff like seeing our children. And chores and paperwork. And moving houses. We moved houses last year. I just finished unpacking recently. So, yeah, we got that going for us.

And laundry. Do you know how much laundry a family of four generates? That’s nuts. Now that there are five of us, we’ve reached epic levels of laundry.

I’m saying all of this to say that the way that our family was operating was unsustainable.

Considering all that we went through in order to have a family, I was realizing more and more that I was going to get to the twins 18th birthday and probably say, “What the crap was THAT?” in reference to their entire childhood.

That’s not cool.

And then we were adding a third child to this situation.

When Annie was born, I found myself looking at her little fingers and her little face and thinking/praying, “Thank you God for sending this baby to save me from myself.”

I don’t think that’s hyperbole; Annie’s birth probably saved our family from the future we were racing toward.

I would’ve kept working if we only had the twins. I would’ve muscled through it and done the “grin and bear it” routine. I would’ve missed events at school and stuff at work, feeling inadequate and terrible in both arenas. Frank and I would’ve put our marriage on ice and hoped there was something left when the kids went off to their small liberal arts colleges along the Mississippi River or in Upstate New York (or maybe a Big Ten school, I don’t really know). We could’ve done it. I would’ve done it.

It would’ve been a mess.

I wondered while I was pregnant with Annie how it would play out if I kept the crazy cycle going. And always, I just sort of knew, we couldn’t stop the landslide – so we better just sidestep it.

At first, when Frank and I started thinking about this change, we kept looking at our checkbook. But, in an unspoken way, we kind of knew that God would provide and He seems to open and close doors for us in a weird way. We decided to trust this rhythm we had with God and we had with each other and make this move.

On my last day of work, I was filled with relief and … something else. Turns out, thanks to an abundance of psychologists in my life, this other feeling was grief.

It was hard to quit. As I said before, I love to work. I love projects and check lists and people and ideas and all manner of work-y type things.

I just do. It’s weird, when I think of it, how much I do like to do these things.

So while it was hard to release the death grip I had on working, I did it.

I did it because I love my family. I love my husband and I love my children. I did it because all of those stupid cliches are sometimes true – people on their deathbeds don’t say, “Gee, I wish I worked more.” People dying say, “I wish I had more time with my family.”

I give mad props to the women who work and have families and can do it all. That is awesome. I so wanted to be that woman – the one who could work and, like day to evening Barbie, transition effortlessly to caring for my family with organic homemade food and manicured hands. It’s just that, for me, the reality is this: I. Can’t. Do. It.

In some ways I felt like I was a failure because I couldn’t do it all. I couldn’t sustain all of these fires I had burning without getting burned myself.

Staying at home with the children is work, no doubt. And I went through a hazing week a few weeks ago that caused me to see my hairstylist earlier than normal to touch up my roots. My dear friend, St. Eve, had to increase her data plan due to the insane amount of text messages she received from me, many consisting of things like “Sweet Jesus help me!” and “OMG YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.” It got so ugly, she stopped reading my texts while eating.

Enough of that, though. (for now)

When the rays of sunshine are long, stretching across the floor of our office/study/gathering area and the twins are busy drawing a very important picture for me to review and Annie is spreading spit-up across her blanket and the floor; when the sink is happily full of dishes from meals eaten at home; when the girls’ fingers are prunes from long bath times playing; when we have a stack of books to read at bedtime from the library; when we can take our time walking to school in the morning holding hands and saying “hi” to Miss Leslie-the-Crossing-Guard (and Carrie can give her a flower); when our kitchen window is full of pictures and when the five of us are snuggled on a couch – when those moments and days and experiences happen, my heart is full and happy.

And when a whole bunch of other stuff goes down (future blog posts, maybe), I sometimes wish I could be somewhere else. Like at a job. Or hiding in my bathroom with the door locked.

But no matter the situation, this is a pretty awesome gig: this staying-at-home business.

SInce I’ve been at home, I wanted to blog more. Write about Ellie and Carrie and Annie. After all, this blog is for them. But no matter the blog posts I was writing in my head, I could never put them down because before I could write all of that, I had to write this.

So here it is. Sort of word vomit. Sort of an explanation.

To my daughters: if you work outside the home and have children, awesome. If you work outside the home and don’t have children, awesome (but get some dogs that I can spoil or travel a bunch so I can bore my friends at The Home with the minutia of your latest adventures). If you stay at home and have children, awesome. If you stay at home and don’t have children, seriously, what are you doing? Go to work. Or volunteer. Geesh.

’round here…

September 16, 2014September 16, 2014 / emmykay / Leave a comment

Just a few diddies, in no particular order…

I had Annie on her floor mat, working on rolling over. Ellie came over, intrigued by what was going on.

“Ellie, want to help me teach Annie how to roll over?” I asked.

“Sure. I got this. Watch.” And I did watch as Ellie unceremoniously pushed Annie over. “There. Done.”

Annie, because she’s cool as a cucumber, was unfazed.

As we pulled into the Peapod Pick Up location, I told the girls to say “hi” to Peapod.

“Hi Peapod! We are here! How are you today?” asked Ellie.

“Oh, I’m OK. I’m just tired and taking a nap,” answered Carrie in a squeaky voice, apparently in-character as the Peapod building.

This happens nearly every morning at breakfast: Ellie gulps down her orange juice just as I’ve started feeding Annie her long-awaited, much-deserved cereal and/or bottle. As I explain to Ellie that I am feeding Annie and cannot get her more juice, she says, “OK, fine, I’ll feed her, you get me some juice, OK?” Girlfriend is a logistics queen already!

Ellie, upon realizing we have a library book that needs to go back, delivered the following monologue.

“Mommy. OK. So, we can ONLY keep a library book for SEVERAL days. We cannot keep it forever. We have to return it, OK?” Her little eyebrows went up and she nodded her head. “OK. So, we can go tomorrow, OK Mommy? And when we go there, we can get WHATEVER we want. First, we can go down the movie aisle. And then we can go down the book aisle, OK, Mommy? OK. Good. Here, let me show you this book.” At this point she started paging through the book a la Vanna White. I couldn’t stop giggling.

“I want a (fill in the blank).” This question is asked daily in a whiney, plaintive, accusing voice by both of my children. I hate it. I always correct them.

But they Just. Don’t. Get. It.

So instead, I’ve started responding with, “Well, I want an oompa-loompa!”

At first, that response stopped the whining as they pondered what I requested.

A few days after I started this response, their Auntie Cay-Cay said, “I want a drink of water.”

The twins responded, “Well, our mom wants an oompa-loompa!”

A storm came through a week or so ago, resulting in a lot of downed tree branches in my parents’ neighborhood. We drove through to survey the damage. Carrie’s eyes became as big as saucers as she took in the scene.

“Wow. This was a LARGE storm!” Then, deftly, Carrie merged the world she saw with her imagination. “Let me look at my phone. Oh wow. Yes, this was a LARGE storm. Mom, do you see the trees? It was a LARGE storm. We should call Grandma Gigi and tell her. I think there were bad lizards. Mom, can you use your real phone and see if there is another LARGE storm coming? We better tell Grandma Gigi about the bad lizards.”

After thinking about what she may have meant when she said, “bad lizards”, I finally deduced that she meant blizzards.

“Honey, do you mean blizzards?” I asked.

“Yes. Bad lizards!” she replied.

“Oh, no, it’s not bad lizards, it’s blizzards. Like lots of snow and wind. That’s a blizzard.”

Carrie was not impressed. I am sure that a bunch of naughty reptiles raining down from the sky seemed a lot more interesting.

Carrie, upon eating a Skittle, said,”Mommy, this jelly bean (she knows not what she eats) tastes like an eyeball: sweet and squishy.”

… Um, what?

That is all for now…

annabel

July 9, 2014 / emmykay / 3 Comments

I’ve wanted to write this post for weeks now, but every time I try to sit down at the “big computer,” I decide to sleep instead. And also it is really hard to type with one hand.

A Birth Story

On May 8, we went to a regularly scheduled OB appointment and discovered that the baby was transverse – lying across the uterus instead of in the preferred “head down” position. The fact that I had a lot of fluid and a misshapen uterus (thanks to a myomectomy and a twin pregnancy) made it very easy for the baby to swim into whatever position she preferred. Dr. G had already performed a “version” (changing the baby’s position) in the office at 37 weeks, but the baby happily shifted by the next day. Knowing that the baby moved so quickly, Dr. S suggested that once we achieved 39 weeks gestation, we should schedule another version followed immediately by an induction. In the meantime, we were advised that I should try hard NOT to go into labor and that if I did go into labor, or my water broke, we should go straight to the hospital due to risk of umbilical cord prolapse.

Thus began my maternity leave.

The first available date for the version and induction was Wednesday, May 14 with Dr. G. We were signed up for a 7:30 a.m. time slot.

In between the appointment and the induction, I managed to injure my neck, causing me considerable pain and insomnia. The day before the induction, we visited our friendly neighborhood chiropractor who attempted to mitigate the pain and gave Frank some suggestions for assisting me with pain management during labor and delivery.

We both woke up bright and early on Wednesday morning, ready to meet our third child. It was an absolutely beautiful morning and a perfect drive to the hospital. I was so happy to walk into Labor and Delivery, instead of being wheeled into L&D in complete terror (as was what happened with the twins). We were set up in our room, I changed and was put on monitors … and then the fun started.

Ready to go to the hospital!

Dr. G is sort of a legend in our area. My mom actually went to his practice many years ago in hopes that he would deliver her third child, my brother Andy, but unfortunately she went into labor on a day that he wasn’t on duty. He is an older gentleman, with a sweet and kind demeanor. His old-school training made him more likely to try things like a version, something that only one of his colleagues would also attempt (Dr. S). He was optimistic that he could shift the baby’s position, but he was also realistic. He’d seen enough versions that should’ve been easy that failed, and other versions that should’ve failed, work. Within minutes of locating the baby on the ultrasound, he began the process of shifting her position. We watched in awe as her little shape moved into a perfect head-down position.

Once it was confirmed that her head was in the best position possible, Dr. G broke my water and began pitocin.

Hanging out, inducing and stuff…

Everything was pretty uneventful after that. Frank and I watched a movie, texted, played games, and just sat around waiting to meet our baby. Frank left for breakfast and lunch breaks, and finally by about 2 p.m. we decided to get the epidural. At that point I was dilated to 2 cm and everything was looking good.

At 5 p.m. Dr. G was leaving for the day and he wanted to see how things were going with me before handing me off to Dr. S. I was dilated to 3 cm and everything looked fine. After he left, though, my nurse and I both noticed a deceleration with the baby’s heart rate on the next contraction. I bit my lip nervously as I waited for the heart rate to return to normal.

A few more contractions came and went without decelerations. The nurses changed shifts and the new nurse wanted to check my cervix. While she checked, a worried look crossed her face.

“Did the doctor mention anything about feeling facial features when he checked last?” she asked. I shook my head.

I’m not a doctor, but I knew enough to know that you shouldn’t feel a baby’s facial features during a cervical check. Crap, I thought.

The next contraction, as though the baby knew, involved another heart rate deceleration. I furrowed my brow. Frank was now pacing next to my hospital bed. The nurse called the hospitalist (the doctor on duty for the hospital). The hospitalist arrived quickly.

“Yes, I feel a forehead… and eyes. What does the OB want you to do?” the hospitalist asked the nurse.

“Turn her on her side and stop the pitocin and call the OB in,” said the nurse, reaching to turn off the pitocin as she said it. The hospitalist nodded. Within 30 minutes, my OB was in the room.

Dr. S was a very professional and still very kind doctor. She is one of those doctors that instills a sense of authority while still being very compassionate at the same time. She spent a long time assessing the situation. During her check, she attempted to move the baby’s chin down in order to shift her head into a better position. She attempted to push the baby’s head back into the uterus. Neither effort worked – the baby was fully engaged. Dr. S could tell that the baby’s head was becoming swollen from the pressure from the contractions.

Dr. S looked at me with sad eyes and I knew before she even said it. “We have to do a C-Section. I can’t move the baby’s head. There is a risk that if the baby is allowed to be born this way, she might break her neck,” explained Dr. S.

My heart dropped. My poor baby. All I could think of was this poor, sweet baby trying to be born into this world and being stuck and injured. Frank and I took a few minutes to talk and to pray. I knew I had to do the C-Section, but even though I had tried to mentally prepare for that before we were induced – I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.

I’ve done a lot of difficult things. Not climbing mountains or anything, but I’d had surgery before, been through challenging seasons of my life and so on. I’d created ways to mentally push through those difficult situations by outlining steps in my head. Just get through this, this and this. Once you do those three things, you will be done. But being awake for a major surgery? I knew what the steps were and I just couldn’t see my way through. I actually thought, so then they will put your organs back in… sweet heavens to Betsy… my organs will be on the outside… on.the.outside. I couldn’t see my way through it. I started to panic.

And then I remembered that the last time I had a similar surgery to a C-Section (a myomectomy), I had been horrifically sick. I threw up for hours by myself in my hospital room after surgery. I remembered texting Frank and telling him how sick I was. Frank had asked if he should come back to the hospital. For what reason? I remember thinking. To watch me puke up jello into a kidney shaped blue bowl while I try not to hurt my already aching stomach muscles? It was the kind of lonely misery that would not be improved by a spectator.

At the memory of my myomectomy recovery, I became scared of puking on one side of the operating curtain, while my actual stomach was exposed on the other side. I couldn’t handle it.

I will say, my doctors were amazing. Upon hearing of my nausea/vomiting fears, they took every step possible to reduce any chance that I would become violently ill while delivering my baby. Not once during the C-Section did I even think of vomiting. I was grateful.

Once I signed off on the paperwork for the C-Section, I was prepped and wheeled into the same operating room in which I delivered the twins. I was moved from the L&D bed onto the narrow operating table. The anesthesiologist began the spinal through the same port as my epidural and the final work to bring our baby into this world began.

Frank joined me by the head of the table, but he watched the entire surgery, not missing a moment of our baby’s delivery. The thing about a C-Section is that while you do not feel pain, you feel your insides being moved around. It’s a totally surreal situation – knowing that on the other side of a thin piece of blue fabric, your insides are on the outside.

But, oh heavens, at the first gurgling cries of sweet Annabel – it was all worth it. At 7:18 pm on May 14, 2014 she made her way into this world.

“Seriously you guys, what took you so long??”

“It’s a girl! And she’s a big baby!” announced Frank and the doctor, laughing.

They brought a screaming, healthy baby Annie around the curtain so I could see her for the first time. Frank laughed, “Boy is she angry!” The swelling in her forehead gave her a particularly angry scowl.

They cleaned up Annie and weighed her – 9lbs 3oz and 21 inches long – and brought her over for a more formal introduction.

“Hey, Mom, wassup?”

Frank, Annie and me. All of our best angles.

Annie and Frank hung out in the nursery waiting for me to get cleaned up and after two hours of recovery, we were all reunited.

“Mmm… Pain Management rocks!”

Annie and I snuggled while Frank tried to forge for food (a nearly impossible task). In between coos, I hit the button for pain medication every ten minutes. I’ll tell you what, C-Sections are no joke and I am grateful for the excellent pain management (the PC way to say “large quantities of pain killers”) that I was offered at the hospital.

The twins were excited to meet their new sister. Poor Carrigan, confused and concerned by the logistics of birthing, immediately asked if Annie was going “back in.” We assured her that Annie was here to stay.

Party of 5!

Annie and I hung out in the hospital for four days and were discharged, happily, on May 18.

Frank and his girls!

“Let’s rock and roll mom and dad!”

Sisters

About the Name

Annie’s first trimester was more exciting than we had hoped. Early on, we were very concerned about some bleeding issues that went on for nearly four weeks. During that time of worry, I felt peace at church and felt that her middle name would be Ruth. We knew we wanted an “A” first name, and it was between Abigail and Annabel. I’ve always loved Annabel and it’s literary history. We both loved that the name could be shortened to Anna, Ann, Annie, etc. Annabel is actually a variation on the Scottish name Amabel, meaning loving. And she definitely is a little lovebug!

Two weeks old, poolside

Eight weeks old

three

March 5, 2014 / emmykay / Leave a comment

The twins are three years old.

Three years ago, almost to the day, we were bringing our tiny babies home from the NICU. Three years from now, we will be sending our girls off to first grade.

It’s amazing to think that they’ve grown up so much, and yet I haven’t aged. It’s a miracle!

All about Ellie at Three

Elliana, the oldest by four minutes, is a very sweet, very engaged little girl. She knows all of her letters and has even started writing some of them. She has lovely little conversations with me and makes sure we don’t forget to pray before meals and bed time.

Her curly red hair shows no signs of fading away. Despite all of the stereotypes about redheads, Ellie’s most “redhead” trait is her fierce desire to stick to a plan.

She is a sensitive soul and has taken to saying, “You’re breaking my heart!” whenever her sister is gruff with her or we tell her she can’t do something. She loves broccoli and pasta and meat. She can take or leave dessert (more often leaving it). She loves to “snuggle in” and watch a favorite show or read a favorite book. She has seen frozen approximately three times and is trying desperately to sing along with the songs.

All about Carrie at Three

Carrigan is my little sparkler. She has this shimmer in her eyes when she’s about to do something hilarious-or-dramatic-or inappropriate. Her creativity is astounding. Everything she touches can become something magical in her imagination; even dinner. This has lead to quite a few discussions about how inappropriate it is to play with food and that fingers dipped in peanut butter are NOT dinosaurs (Rawrrrr!!). But it has also lead to some very delightful discussions about imaginary scenarios.

She has developed a particular fascination with dinosaurs and tells me her favorite is the brachiosaurus. She plays well by herself, but loves to drag her sister into an involved session of Paw Patrol. Her creative playtime is enthusiastic and vocal – it’s hard to hear oneself think while she’s growling like a dinosaur or hollering “Ryder! Come quick! We have an emergency at the beach!”

Carrie is a little social butterfly. She loves to introduce her family and friends to new people. We had pizza delivered the other day and she proudly told the pizza, “This is my friend my Mom and this is my friend my sister Ellie and I’m Carrie!” The pizza delivery guy was somewhat amused, but being a teenager, he wasn’t really sure how to respond. It was adorable!

We celebrated the girls’ birthdays with a few small family gatherings with Frank’s family and my family, but for the first time we had a very low-key shindig at the Park District for the twins and a few of their friends. They played on a tot gym, enjoyed some cake and colored.

The simple pleasures!

Happy 3rd Birthday Girls!

year in review

December 30, 2013December 30, 2013 / emmykay / 2 Comments

In short:

It was winter & it was cold.

The girls turned two.

We bought a house and sold a condo and moved.

Everyone knows that the actual moving part is the worst part of any home purchase.

It was appropriately terrible, especially with my ear infection that WOULD NOT GO AWAY. But has. So we are all good now.

We frolicked at the park any time it was over 30 degrees and under 120 degrees.

We laughed, we cried, I cut my hair, we took some selfies, we laughed some more and then we found out we were pregnant with #3.

This was not a surprise.

We planned it.

But still. THREE KIDS. OMG.

What were we thinking??

And now, the year in pictures. Beginning January:

Carrie’s First Haircut

Ellie’s First Haircut

Twins turn Two.

Grandma Sandy, Julia, Elliana and Carrigan all celebrated birthdays together. (and took a lovely picture with Luke and Joshua)

Carrie loves her pretties! (aka bracelets and jewels and sparkly things!)

Carrie is also VERY busy, babe. So, like, leave a message or whatever.

Shades and a binky NEVER go out of style.

Carrie’s February Selfie. So now.

Ellie and Mommy selfie together.

Ellie hunts the elusive Easter Egg.

Carrie has concern for the elusive Easter egg. Where is it? What is in it? These are big questions.

Easter brunch with Frank’s parents. Delish!

A trip to Water Tower Place in Chicago.

Hawks Game!

Story time with Mom in March

A much-needed night out in March to see The Book of Mormon.

Boo! Snow in March!

A warm day in April means a trip to the park – and pigtails for Carrie!

A mommy and Carrie selfie in April

A trip to a bakery in Lincoln Park. Yum!

Ellie scoping out Lincoln Park. Future Blue Demon??

Cowgirl Ellie takes the reins…

Cowgirl Carrie is on the move!

An outdoor snack in April. Loving the warm weather!

Carrie stylin’ a new hat from Grandma Sandy.

Carrie can’t believe the WHOLE pancake is for her!

Early morning Carrie is the best!

Ellie tuckered out on a car ride home…

Enjoying the “snow” of flower petals in May.

We bought a house!

Just the four of us… for now!

Carrie loves the park!

Ellie also loves the park.

“Dahling, isn’t picnicking just the bees’ knees?”

A tea party between Ellie and Michael. He’s such a good sport!

Carrie in a toddler bed!

Ellie in a toddler bed!

2013 05 Twins Wishing Frank Happy Birthday

The twins wishing Daddy a happy 33rd birthday!

Do we have a future motorcycle chick??

Ellie enjoyed her bike as well!

Improvising with furniture during the move. Camp chairs are so in right now!

Saying goodbye to our trusty Honda Accord, George in June.

Lounging in their new room.

Carrie and her buddy Kelsey chilling.

One game to the Stanley Cup!

We love lunching outside!

Packing is never dull when you are packing with twins two year olds!

I love the PARK!!

Mommy and Carrie watching the rain!

Ellie catching the rain!

Riding the train at the July Jaycee carnival in Hoffman Estates!

Carrie playing on the beach, with appropriate jewels, of course!

A healthy breakfast is the best way to start the day!

Getting ready for work with Mom!

Sibling night … PUT THE PHONES AWAY! That is all.

The girls deep in discussions post bath in July.

The girls love to ride the bus to church. Church is also one of their favorite places to go – they ask to go all week long!

Ellie and Mom taking in a very hot summer concert together – so much fun!

The girls loved their beach time in August!

Carrie particularly loved the pier and looking at the fish.

Cousins Luke and Julia came to visit in August. They had so much fun!

Ellie visited Auntie Cay-cay and raided her amazing costume jewelry collection.

I chopped my hair!

The first day of Playschool for the twins!

The girls couldn’t wait to go inside!

The first day of potty training. It was harder on Mom (and Dad) than it was on the girls.

Carrie cruising at the park in August.

Potty training bootcamp.

Carrie giving her trike a tune-up in August.

Ellie in August.

Carrie also raided Auntie Cay-cay’s jewelry. So glamorous!

Going to the Wisconsin State Fair was exhausting…

… and delicious!

Ellie and Carrie explored their first fire truck!

Holy positive pregnancy test, batman! It was a September to remember!

Tea Partiers.

Does someone have a future in aviation? Perhaps!

Mom and Ellie Selfies in October.

Mom and Carrie Selfie in October.

Carrie enjoyed her first sports camp. Bend it like Beckham!

Ellie is ready to take on the entire team. Solo. With one hand tied behind her back. Game on, girlfriend!

Carrie loves the pantry in the new house nearly as much as I do.

Carrie is a future pool shark in the making.

Important life skillz.

The twins ready to celebrate Thanksgiving with Grandma Sandy and Grandpa K.

Frank and I enjoyed a lovely visit to Vegas in November. So much fun!

Twin love at Christmas.

Say Cheese! Say Merry Christmas!

Santa came!

Carrie, our little lefty.

Ellie drawing.

Frank and I at a Hawks game. With that guy. Yo.

So, there you have it: 2013 in pictures.

It was a good year.

The forecast for 2014 calls for less sleep, lots of new baby snuggles and big sister hugs.

What a ride.

baby fever

November 26, 2013 / emmykay / Leave a comment

Let’s be real: the reality of baby #3 has not totally sunk in.

You’d think 15 weeks in, post morning sickness, post exhaustion, post first trimester, I’d be all like, “Woot, woot. We gotta bay-bay cookin’!”

Only sort of. I mean, yes, I totally know that I am pregnant.

And I understand that being pregnant often results in a baby.

The part I’m having trouble with is imagining what our life will look like with baby #3.

Perhaps I should’ve had a more solid vision of life with baby #3 before we began this process of getting pregnant.

Truthfully, I have a vision of life with child #3 – although I glossed over infancy and toddlerhood in my vision. I love having two sisters and a brother. I love the gatherings we have when we get together and laugh and giggle and talk and argue and laugh some more. We are siblings and friends.

The twins have a unique and wonderful bond with each other because they have never known even a minute of existence without the other. Just tonight, we were driving home and Ellie was in a fowl mood. Something about apple pies and Christmas trees really honked her off. Ellie was muttering and sobbing in her car seat for about five minutes when Carrie yelled at her. Not in an angry, “What the heck?” kind of way, but in a mocking “this is how dumb you sound” kind of way. It worked. Ellie found Carrie to be hilarious. The next ten minutes of our ride was still filled with screaming, but mixed with fits of giggles as they made each other laugh.

It was the best.

It was why people have twins and siblings for their children.

When I think of this third child, I think of road trips and family vacations and Frank tossing the kids into the pool. I think of three pairs of eyes peeking over the edge of our bed on Christmas morning, pleading with us to let them open their gifts from Santa.

I think of the twins teaching this child new things and this child being a joy to them. And a pain. And an annoyance.

The good and the bad… Family.

When we were in the midst of this whole having babies business the first time, I could barely dare to dream that we’d have a family – much less dream of a family of five.

When we decided to try to have a third baby, it seemed like less of a choice and more of a prayer that we tossed heavenward. And then we wondered. And we hoped.

And God, being the funny and merciful One that He is, said, “Yes.”

Amazement. Awe.

More hope. More prayer.

Last night was an outright debacle. Nothing went as planned – not even close. After a “quick” stop by Walgreens for a prescription turned into a 30 minute fiasco and I brought my sobbing children into the house a full hour after bedtime, I felt totally outnumbered. I’d put one in bed, the other one would get out. Finally, I had them both in bed and went on a quest for Jingle the Husky Pup. I returned to mass chaos.

Carrie was sitting up in bed, crying and staring at Ellie. Ellie was screaming and her nose was bleeding on EVERY THING. I carried her to the bathroom and stopped the bleeding, cleaned her up, stripped her bed, made her bed, put her back into her bed and then stood in the middle of their room. They looked at me and I looked at them.

And it felt like together we all thought, “So, Mom, what happens when you have a third infant in a carrier that needs a bath and a diaper and dinner and pajamas and bed? What about when that happens?”

I doubt I would’ve made all of the same choices that got me to the point of utter meltdown, but I also know that I can’t plan for everything.

There will come a point where a similar scenario plays out.

I’m glad I have six more months to get my “poop in a group” because right now, I am so not ready.

Christmas in pictures… with a score card

December 30, 2012December 30, 2012 / emmykay / Leave a comment

Anyone who tells you they aren’t keeping track of who is winning in this game of parenting is a liar.

I’m keeping track. And based on the results of this Christmas season, I don’t think I’m playing for the winning team.

The game? Parenting. The goal? To raise your children. The obstacle? They will try to raise you. Every time a parent is able to maintain peace and present a unified front, parents get a point. Every time a child successfully demolishes that facade? Point to the child.

For Christmas, we are scoring a few key areas:

The Christmas Card Picture (2 possible points for execution and final product)
The Christmas Outing (3 possible points for execution, most remaining Christmas Spirit and photographic evidence)
Christmas Presents (2 possible points for sustained delight and photographic evidence)
Official Christmas Festivities (1 point for attending church, 1 point for ensemble’s attire, 2 points for general outcome, 3 points for photographic evidence)

Total Possible Points: 15

Winner must win by at least two points.

Let the scoring commence.

The Christmas Card Picture: Twins 2 points

Shot 1

Shot 15

Shot 450

It took three separate photo shoots on three separate days, relocated furniture, bribes and a counseling session for mom and dad, but we finally captured this shot:

“Who, us? Difficult to photograph? No!”

The thing is, I would’ve split the points evenly since we did get a cute shot, but the reason the girls look so angelic is because they are looking at us saying, “Mom, we live in a world that has sanity, and that sanity has to be destroyed by babies with attitude. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Dad? We have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for your sanity, and you curse your interrupted sleep. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what we know. That the toilet, while alluring to us in so many ways, probably distracted us from coloring on your walls. And our existence, while occasionally cute and snuggly to you, ends sanity. You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at parties, you want to be insane, you need to be insane. We use words like poopoos, uh oh, binkies. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent dismantling your sanity. You use them as a punchline. We have neither the time nor the inclination to explain ourselves to parents who cuddle and snuggle under the blankie of the very crazy joy that we provide, and then question the manner in which we provide it. We would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, we suggest you pick up a binkie, and stand a post. Either way, we don’t give a hoot what Christmas pictures you think you are entitled to.” Not kidding. Even with angelic faces, the soundtrack playing behind their innocent eyes was definitely Col. Jessup.

The Christmas Outing: Twins 2 Points, Parents 1 Point

First of all, kudos to Frank because he scored us our one point. Frank went into the Christmas outing with an expectation of insanity. His expectations were met and therefore, his Christmas Outing experience did not damage his overall sense of Christmas Joy. The remaining points were awarded to the twins.

Between packed aisles, mobs of people at 9 a.m. and the veritable cornucopia of crap that comes with twin toddlers (diaper bags, coats, hats, binkies, bottles, snacks, etc, etc, etc), maneuvering through the store formerly called Marshall Fields was a hot, sweaty challenge. Santa was on floor five. Walnut Room, floor seven. Christmas Tree viewing? Floor eight. Elevators were cramped with 10 people and a double tandem stroller. We eventually ditched the stroller and introduced the twins to the escalators, which they enjoyed.

The folks at the store formerly called Marshall Fields packed us all into a table with about four inches between us and our neighboring table. Which is fine if it’s not a brunch buffet and everyone doesn’t need to get up to get their brunch. But guess what?? It’s a BUFFET! Squee!

All in all, my siblings and my dad helped maintain the general Christmas spirit and even the twins were happy to scarf down “cake” (muffins… which, really, let’s be honest? Breakfast cake.)

Unfortunately, what you are about to see is the best picture from the three that we took. And therefore, proof that the twins did win two points, fair and square:

Say “WHAT?? Where??”

Christmas Presents: Parents 1 point, Twins 1 point

The proof is in the video. I’m gonna go ahead and give myself credit for the amazing kitchen set that I put together.

But then, the nod goes to the twin to the all-out hysteria when Ms. Ellie did not get 100% dominance over the shopping cart they received as a gift from Aunt Cathy. That hysteria can be glimpsed at the end of this video. I stopped filming when it went to crazy-town levels.

Christmas Festivities: Parents 3 points, Twins 4 points

First, we got a “gimme” point because we did go to church. And it was relatively uneventful and we even went to Chipotle for a traditional Christmas burrito bol. I think Jesus would’ve approved.

I also gave us a “gimme” point because we were all dressed for Christmas Day. We were even dressed in somewhat coordinating outfits. Point.

I’m also going to say that we split the difference on the general Christmas experience. While the girls certainly gave us a run for our money, we retaliated with an appearance by the big guy in a red suit.

Ellie: “Hey, someone is at the door!”

Ellie: “Um, OMG! RUN!!”

You can even see that Ellie’s cousin Josh is a little horrified as well. Score!

Emily: “Hey Frank, capture the Christmas magic! Quick!”

Frank and the twins playing on Christmas Day.

They look so sweet and innocent playing the organ, but this mama knows better…

Me? Plot to take over the world? Never!

Final score? Twins 10, Parents 5.

a long overdue update on the twinsters

October 30, 2012October 30, 2012 / emmykay / 4 Comments

Yes, I have fallen behind in the girls’ second year with marking their milestones.

It’s not that they girls have stopped developing and thereby no longer necessitate updates.

Oh, heavens, they are definitely still developing.

It’s just that while writing an update and mopping up baby vomit was a challenge, writing an update and pulling one twin out of the toilet and the other out of the refrigerator is darn near impossible.

And yes, I know there are toilet locks.

And yes, I know there is probably something for the fridge, too.

But you know what? I have the door locks for the bathrooms and haven’t had time to install them for a variety of VERY good reasons, reasons that may include my new fascination with Married to Jonas or WORK or OTHER AMAZING THINGS THAT I CANNOT NAME RIGHT NOW.

Excuses, excuses.

So, the twinsters are doing great. Walking, running and TALKING up a storm. They say things like,

milk
more
up
downstairs
outside
mama
dada
Aunt Cay Cay
Gramma
Papa
cow (moo)
dog (woof)
cat (meow)
sheep (bah)
book
shoes
socks
bath
water
bellybutton
eyes
nose
ears
mouth
cake
uh-oh
no
No
NO!!! (pointing finger) (Not sure where they learned that one)

etc, etc. For anyone looking to compare how many words my girls have compared to their progeny: STOP (collaborate and listen, Ice is back with a brand new edition…). This is not an exhaustive list. I’m sure your children are brilliant and say many amazing things. My kids are starting to count. We could do this, “I’m parenting better than you” business all day long and you know what we’ll have to show for it? Even more exhaustion than we currently have to show for it. Let’s not be like that, K? K.

Anywho. The girls are stacking blocks, reading books, completing shape/animal puzzle-type games, dancing and generally living la vita loca. Carrie feeds herself very well with a spoon and wears her dinner bowl as a very fashionable hat. Ellie is an A+ snuggler who has completely grasped an innate ability to whine her way up into my arms. It’s not at all charming, but it is 99% effective.

Frank has started a pseudo evil game of telling the girls to put their arms up and then promptly tickling them. The result? Our genius babies no longer raise their arms over their heads. This is awesome unless you’re their poor mother who has to change their clothes and give them baths.

We are at that awkward phase of the girls wanting/loving independence, but us not letting them have it because, well, they can’t handle it.

Tonight, for example, there was a LOT of the word no.

“NO! Do not pull that out of the garbage!” (said while I am pulling twin #2 out of the dishwasher)

“NO! Do NOT play in the toilet! I am serious! OUT OF THERE!” (said while I am pulling twin #1 out of the garbage)

“NO! Get off of the coffee table! Didn’t I just tell you to get off of the coffee table!” (said while I am pulling twin #2 out of the toilet)

“NO!… Wait… YES! Let’s read a book! A book would be great!” (said while I am pulling twin #1 off of the coffee table)

They are such happy babies and they don’t seem to be taking any of this “no” business personally. Well, I mean, I haven’t gotten a bill for therapy yet, but they seem mostly happy and fulfilled.

The highlight of the last few months has been that the girls are starting to hug and love back. They always enjoyed a snuggle or two, but now when I pick up the girls, they wrap their arms around my neck and squeeze.

It’s the sweetest thing.

Also, the girls have discovered make up, love wearing dresses, ask me to put their hair up in pony tails (only to take them out immediately) and are enamored with shoes of all shapes and sizes and styles.

Love my girly girls!

Ellie 1 year ago…

Miss Ellie at 19 months

Carrie 1 year ago…

Miss Carrie at 19 months

a prairie home companion

September 1, 2012 / emmykay / 2 Comments

alternatively titled, “a love song for my children.”

I love talk radio. I love conservative talk radio. I love liberal talk radio. I love post-Hawks games sports talk radio. I love morning talk shows and will frequently change the station when they play music. I adore news radio of all kinds.

But there is something absolutely magical about my childhood Saturday nights at 5 p.m. in Chicago.

At 5 p.m. on Saturday night, the self-deprecating Minnesotan Garrison Keillor, accompanied by a jaunty pianist, would open up the stage of “A Praire Home Companion,” a lovely radio show that often featured tales of Garrison’s beloved Lake Wobegon

Listening to APHC is like being thoroughly ensconced in some of the most treasured aspects of my childhood. Growing up, we mostly listened to APHC on the way to Saturday night Catholic Mass, and some of my strongest, most delicious memories, are of Garrison’s steady, deep voice rumbling through stories of Guy Noir and News of Lake Wobegon. Our family’s red minivan bounced along the tree-lined streets of Palatine, the same streets that brimmed with my own family’s 50+ year history of growing up and growing old in this town. Sunlight filtered and danced through the large oak trees we drove under, a faint smell of barbecues pre-heating wafted through open car windows and Garrison’s narrative rose and fell over the sounds of my family chattering along the way to mass.

I especially recall Garrison’s folksy duets with guest singers and song writers: a perfect soundtrack to a lush summer day.

Tonight, on the way home from a day with Frank’s family at the Lake, I turned on NPR and heard the familiar sounds of my beloved APHC. The first strains of the piano accompaniment sent me straight back to those wonderful evenings driving to Mass. I turned the volume up, hoping that the sound of Garrison’s rambling stories, always punctuated with his deep, inhaling breaths through his nose, would bury themselves deep into the girls’ psyche.

See, those Saturday night family trips to Mass are, for me, the epitome of an American childhood. We worked outside all day on nearly every Saturday – mowing, trimming, watering, and planting – and then we would wash up, put on clean cotton shirts and skirts, and go to Mass.

The church I grew up in, was a dark, cavernous space, but it was not unfriendly – not at all – it was a holy and happy place for me. On Saturday nights, our parish allowed the worship director to use guitars and folksy versions of our favorite hymns. We always left church on Saturday nights with light hearts – and hungry stomachs.

Usually Garrison’s show was still going on when we left church. While we drove somewhere to pick up dinner, we’d listen to the News of Lake Wobegon, smiling as Garrison deftly wove together stories of Lutherans and casseroles and young people making their way in life.

And always, always, Garrison finished his broadcast with: “That’s the news from Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.”

Then, the jaunty pianist would send us all off into the proverbial sunset, happy and satisfied that somewhere in the world, there must be a Lake Wobegon. And more importantly, there seemed to be an implicite promise that there would always be a Lake Wobegon – as long as their story was told.

One day, maybe my children will hear the sound of Garrison Keillor’s voice intimately narrating a story about the stoic midwestern folks up in Minnesota, and that they will feel what I feel: that our stories and our legacy and our love continues on in the people we love, long after we are gone.

18 months

August 22, 2012 / emmykay / Leave a comment

The twins are 18 months old.

I know that I am always amazed when I mark the time that has passed since the twins were born.

Every time I do that, I slap my forehead and think, “when did I get so OLD??”

And then I think, “I was so much younger 18 months ago! Where did that time go?”

Full circle.

So yes, the twins are 18 months old. I am also 18 months older than I was when I birthed these babies. Frank is, too. Time, being all chronological and stuff, does that to a person ya know.

On the twins’ 18 month birthday, we celebrated my parent’s 116th birthday. No, just kidding. They’re only 58 each. Ha ha ha. I bet they loved that joke.

As I’ve mentioned before, my parents have a lot in common, including being born within 24 hours of each other. This is Super Convenient for planning birthday dinners and the like.

We enjoyed brats, burgers, salad, potato salad and Portillo’s chocolate cake. OMG. Have you had Portillo’s chocolate cake? Stop reading this and drive to your nearest Portillo’s and get some cake – what are you waiting for??

The girls had a blast playing with G-Ma and Rick Almighty. Auntie Cay-Cay, Auntie Laur and Uncle Andy also entertained the twins, chasing them around the field behind our house. All in all, everyone had a nice time – although it would’ve been 100x better if Auntie Sarah was there. Instead she’s all like, in California surfing and stuff.

Boo.

So, yes, the twins are now 18 months old. Ellie is our chatty baby – she says a lot of words now – Mama, Dada, Bib, Cah-gin, socks, shoes, sippy, and WAH! (which means more milk, more food, more hugs, more snuggles, more binky). Ellie also reprimands Carrie from time to time, “Cah-gin. Cah! No! NO!” It’s pretty hilarious, but will likely need to be reined in.

The girls are hugging each other, which is, by far, the Cutest.Thing.Ever!

Carrie, our child with smaller vocabulary, is our child with the highest likelihood (at this point) to be an athlete. Running, attempting jumping, spinning (until she makes herself dizzy and falls down… woops) and all sorts of shenanigans are the name of her game. A lot can happen before the collegiate scouts go to their volleyball/basketball/whatever games. But still, I am comforted by her interest in spherical objects and throwing them.

Both girls love to be snuggled and cuddled. They have developed a twin language that they use to plot evil schemes, or who knows what. It seems pretty legit and conversational, which has Frank and I amused. And concerned. But mostly amused.

The girls go in to be weighed and measured next month (we thought we would avoid the mad rush of back-to-school physicals), so I will post those relevant stats mid-September. I’m sure that they have gained weight, I’m sure that they have grown taller. I mean, Carrie grew two shoe sizes between May and July, so the stunner would be if they hadn’t progressed.

So yeah, 18 months, man.

emmy kay and co.

love > everything else

twins