Free Spirit Sunday

Those of you who know me well in real life know that I appreciate full and random outbreaks of joy and spontaneity, being prone to occasional such outbreaks myself. One of the things I love about where we now live is that half the town seems to be prone to random acts of joy and life, individually and communally.

The local natural foods co-op hosts Sunday Brunch events during the summer, with live music and a huge crowds on the lawn. We've been to two of these in past weeks, and took the family today for an outing to Sunday Brunch for oatmeal cookies and coffee. Today's band played a mix of Eastern European Jewish music, Russian cabaret, vaudeville, and polka.

The tall guy in the green has been there every week; the other guy, today was my first time seeing them. In either case, I love watching both of them! They are unique, that is for sure. They have a style that I may not end up adopting for my everyday casual style. However, I don't know that I have ever seen two humans as seemingly comfortable in their own skins, enjoying their lives, and not worrying about what others think.

What a fun day!

Literary folks, ADD, and RDS

Okay, so I've finished Driven to Distraction by Edward M. Hallowell, and am currently reading Delivered from Distraction: Getting the Most out of Life with Attention Deficit Disorder in anticipation of having one of our children evaluated. And, as life would have it, the more I read, the more I think I should have myself evaluated as well.

At any rate, I was reading something in it yesterday that really made sense, and in which I saw a lot of myself. I would have blogged about it last night, but A) I had a baby who didn't want me to blog, and B) I left my book at work.

So, here goes. From Delivered from Distraction by Edward M. Hallowell (this is heavily edited down to not be too long, so that's why it sounds more positive and doesn't include as many of the negative traits; bolding is mine):

I have been drawn to literary people my entire life.... I have always liked to write, and many of my closest friends are writers, editors, publishers, agents, columnists, or other kinds of workers in the word business. I have always been intrigued by a commonality I have noted in literary people. They tend to be highly creative, witty, ironic, a tad cynical, and a tad depressed.... They have an extraordinary eye and ear for what is genuine. They pick up on the telling detail-- a man's pulling up his socks as he talks, or a woman's licking her lips just before offering criticism-- others overlook. They like to know exactly what happened. They love gossip. They abhor hypocrisy and spot it in an instant. They love honesty, and yearn for one honest conversation in a day....

As a psychiatrist, I have come to think of the literary type in genetic terms. I believe they inherit the gene that predisposes towards RDS [reward deficiency syndrome], as well as the genes that predispose toward verbal dexterity, keen powers of observation, a highly developed sense of irony, and a touch of depression. Due to the RDS, they can't find sufficient pleasure in ordinary life. So they resort to extraordinary means. For example, they write. They submit to that unforgiving discipline to try to improve upon life by creating order, even beauty, out of chaos. That is an extraordinary effort to find ordinary pleasure. When it works, they get a squirt of dopamine, and some endorphins and other pleasure mediators as well. They can get a milder shot of pleasure in other "word" ways, such as through a witty conversation or by reading a piece of writing that they love.

I have a whole lot I could say about this right now, but think I may finish the book and give this some time to roll around within before taking it on as a full blog post. But for now, suffice to say, this definitely describes much of what I experience, and describes quite a few of the closest friends I've had over the years as well. Whether or not it's in any way pathological, or simply inspired, or both, I'm not sure.

Thursday of Rest

So, I came home all fired up to write again (I'm falling in love, all over again, with the art and release of blogging).

Unfortunately, Wonder Girl heard mommy clacking around on the computer keyboard, and came and crawled up in my lap and didn't want me to put her down. And since I'm gone a lot, working, doing, I just sat around and soaked it all in-- her little curly, baby-shampoo-smelling hair up under my face, her tiny fingers gently stroking my arms, her weight sprawled across my lap. These sleepy moments do so much to undo a day's worth of stress. I am blessed.

However, I'm not up for another marathon, all-nighter, sleep-depriving post, but still wanted to offer a little something to chew on. Tonight, it's courtesy of my super-awesome, incredibly smart, awesomest of awesome buddy, Crunchy Mama, a fellow twin mama, thinker, and lifelong seeker. We've only met online and via telephone thus far (a reality I hope to one day change), but I would consider her no less of a best friend than anyone I've ever known. Few people earn the keys to all my honesty and adoration-- Crunchy Mama is among the few.

Turning to a book is nothing new in the human spiritual experience. There are holy books for every dogmatic path. But what if every book had the potential to be holy? For me, the line between secular and spiritual is blurring and I’m much more comfortable with that than I would have been previously. This is where the questioning has led me. And for now, I really like it here. Let Holy Curiosity abound! I’ll be grateful for every relative moment of it.

Read More: Holy Curiosities

My "Bucket List"

Not that I'm planning to kick the bucket any time soon, but I've been thinking it would be fun to start collecting some ideas of things I want to do in my life, just as a reminder in case the opportunity to do one of them comes my way. Some of them I've already done, but I'm still listing them here, just because I wanna.

1) Bungee Jump
2) Learn to Bellydance (the right way-- I can already suck at it pretty well)
3) Learn to play the bagpipes
4) Get my Ph.D.
5) Sing in an all-girl bluegrass band
6) Live in a eco-friendly home that is highly self-supporting in terms of energy
7) Raise chickens for eggs
8) Learn to jar and can (pickles, especially)
9) Learn to sew
10) Get a story published in a national magazine
11) Get a story published in a major national magazine
12) Get a book (or a few) finished
13) Get said books published
14) Speak to a crowd of thousands about positive life change
15) Do that indoor skydiving thing (my son tried it a few months ago and love it!)
16) Learn to hoop like Beth

That's about all I can think of for now. I'm sure I'll add things as they come up!

Loving the Death Bot

When we first moved to North Carolina four months ago, we did so with little money, no jobs, and an incredibly strong faith that we were doing what we knew we were supposed to be doing, all outward appearances aside. So far, no regrets! Shortly after arriving here and in accordance with our pre-move plan, I went and rounded up a job that would provide some income while we sorted out the other details of being here. The benefits of this are, of course, income, as well as the opportunity for a seasoned people-watcher to have a virtual national geographic special of co-workers and guests by whom I am constantly reminded of the complexity of the human journey. Some of them are even becoming friends, little by little, like the prince taming the fox, awaiting the secret. The down side to having a joe job, other than the amount of physical exhaustion, would also, however, be having a virtual national geographic special of co-workers and guests by whom I am constantly reminded of the complexity of the human journey.

Last Friday, we spent all day moving furniture into the new home. By Friday evening, exhausted, and hours past our children's normal bedtimes, I sat down to play with my children a little before finally putting them down for the night. And when Wonder Girl (age 2) came running up to jump into my lap, I first noticed a HUGE lump on the right side of her neck. She had been working through a little cold for a few days at that point, but wasn't acting all that sick or like it hurt, so we decided to wait out the night before getting her checked out. Saturday morning, after returning our moving van, I was sitting in the office of the local urgent care. We signed in, and Wonder Girl went to check out the toybox.

With three older brothers (if we count Wonder Boy as older, which he technically is by just over 2 hours), she immediately picked up a hard, plastic, evil-looking black robot/transformer/terminator-looking action figure-- the kind I don't even let my kids have in our home-- and which had a button on the front that, when you pushed it, made it pretend to walk while red lights flashed in its eyes. CREEPY. I could not, for the life of me, figure out why she liked that silly robot death machine better than some of the other toys in the toybox, but she did. "Yook, mama, it's a PIRATE!" She carried that silly toy around, every now and then declaring it to be a pirate, which from her experience (having recently watched Muppets Treasure Island) was a fun and funny and delightful thing to be!

And after a while, she went from mechanically pushing the buttons and making it do its death march, to holding it and cuddling it, and reading books to it. Pretty soon, she was even expecting me to get in on the action. She ran up to me, pushed the red-eyed robot up against my chest, and grinned. "Wuv it, mama! Wuv da pirate!" Amused by her innocence and irresistible cuteness, I did a lame snuggle, trying to appease her sweet nature. Apparently, my feeble attempt was not enough, and she pressed the death bot harder into my chest-- "Don't you wuv it, Mama? WUV IT!!" So, with all the sincerity I could muster, I snuggled and cuddled her silly toy. "Oh, yes!" I said, "What a wonderful pirate you are! I love this pirate!"

Sitting there in an urgent care office on the weekend, knowing I had to be at work that night, sleep-deprived, stressed out, and unsure of what was wrong with my baby, I snuggled that silly macho toy, declaring to love it, and watching the way my daughter's eyes lit up as I did. The funny thing?-- The more I snuggled it, the more I actually liked that toy, and the better I felt. I am 100% positive that "cute, cuddly, snuggly, and loveable" were not words that the designer of that toy would have thought of when designing that toy. I'm sure their intent was not to foster practice for loving relationships, or to give toddlers the chance to "wuv" and cuddle a new favorite toy. But for her, that didn't matter, and allowing myself (even for a few minutes) to get into her world, where the only intent that matters is her own, I did kinda wuv her pirate, and just for a little while, it was real.

We could learn a lot from a two year old.

I think part of why my relationships with my co-workers (most of them, anyway) aren't as complicated and prone to annoyance might be that usually (not always, but usually), I see the best in them. If they say something stupid, or do something annoying, or act in a way that doesn't on the surface seem to be kind, I do my best to assume positive intent, even if the outer expression of that intent comes in the form of a red-eyed, evil-looking, hard, plastic death bot. Most of us have good intentions, after all, especially when we feel that we are important to others, and that they're interested in seeing us for who we are.

And even if they had bad intent and were trying to frustrate or hurt me, what good would it serve to acknowledge that with either anger or hurftul behavior of my own? What good would it do to tear someone down, to insult them, to play mean-spirited pranks? Would it improve the relationship? Would it solve the problem? Would it make me feel better? What if we allow ourselves to imagine, if only for a few minutes, a situation in which someone DID call you out with specific intent to hurt you, and instead of being hurt and reacting from that hurt, we simply assumed (incorrectly) that it wasn't intentional, continued on our way with a cheerful spirit, and refused to hand over to anyone else the strings and buttons that control our emotions? Would we feel stupid for not fully understanding their ill intent? Or could we simply continue to be at peace with a positive assessment of the situation? What if, instead of getting pissed off, we simply let it roll off, continued to see that person as an overall good person, and refused to get caught up in the emotional drama that permeates our lives (not just at work, but in every sphere of our lives)? In the end, what is our goal? To avenge every wrong, no matter how small? Or to live a life that is fun and vibrant and fully alive? Can we be okay with being wrong about someone else, even if it means our own lives are happier? Can we simply ignore the hard, plastic shell and red, glaring eyes, and love the death bot in spite of it all?

Don't get me wrong-- I'm not always a ray of sunshine. I have my moments when I am full of rage, disappointed in humanity, and convinced that another person is a waste of space. I'm human. But I'd like to think I have many, many more moments in which my love for others outweighs my displaced anger, which assumes that they took my power from me, when in fact, I have to give it away to allow someone else to make me angry.

I guess what it all comes down to, for me, is intent. God's intent (for you to live a life that is constantly frustrated by others, or for you to live an empowered life that is full of joy and meaning), your intent (revenge and hypercriticism, or acceptance and love), and the intent of others (which often, in cases where someone else is coming out against you, boils down to their own self-protection amidst inter- and intra-personal uncertainty).

So what's it going to be? Can we be that patient with others, forgiving of them as we'd hope them to be forgiving of our own shortcomings? Do we stick around long enough to know the fox's secret?

Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

When the outer is throwing us off, messing us up, and keeping us frustrated, remember that The Essential is only found with the heart.

Making Frozen Moments Fluid

Larry Losey. That was his name. He was a member of a church where I was working as a youth and children's ministries director, and was not your stereotypical children's ministries volunteer. A former rock-and-roller, long haired, and into eastern spirituality and meditation, he had no children and had never (that I know of) been married. Somehow we clicked and became friends. What struck me about Larry was the strength of his integrity. Integrity is something that is very important to me in my own life, and seems to have been the defining characteristic of those people I've chosen to become my friend-- not just acquaintance, but real friend with access to my heart and emotional energy-- over the past few years. Larry was who he was-- no small task in our modern society-- and seemed content to just be.

At that time in the church, the youth ministry (middle and high school) had been struggling for some time, and believing very strongly that the preteen and teen years were crucial in helping to establish a connection to something greater than oneself, I made it my mission to grow the youth group. I put out a call for volunteers, and personally invited a few friends to join in the effort. Larry was one of those friends. When I asked whether he'd rather work with middle school or high school, his response was that he wanted to serve wherever he was needed.

Through the experience of working together on youth group events, Larry and I developed a closer friendship that was based on time together, and lengthy talks about the nature of the universe. He came to our kinda-annual murder mystery party, bringing a bottle of non-alcoholic wine with him (he didn't drink). It was a 60s themed party, and he was probably the only one there who had been alive in the 60s! And when Jesus Christ Superstar came to Tampa and he had incredible box seats for the performance, he invited me and the Hubster to join him. It was wonderful, and our conversations with Larry (and the Catholic priest he also invited) were amazing that night! In any case, we didn't spend tons of time together, but there was still a mutual respect and mutual admiration between us, and I thought he was an incredibly interesting and unique person.

After leaving my job at the church and preparing to move to South Carolina, I decided to have a final get-together with my friends before the move. I invited a handful of people to join me at Applebees for karaoke (Hubs volunteered to keep the kids so I could have a night out-- he hates crowds and noisy places anyway)-- Larry was one of those people. That night, free from the yoke of having been bound by a volunteer-supervisor relationship, and with me free from the pressure to "say the right thing" as a representative of the church, we talked.

All night long, we talked between songs, talking about Paramhansa Yogananda, whose teachings had been influential in Larry's life, and about each other's histories. We talked about Roy Eugene Davis, chosen successor of Paramhansa Yogananda (who left the monastic life and gave up his successorship to be married), whose retreat center I had visited and with whom I had spent a little time. I learned things about Larry that night that I had never known before-- how he had lived his life before placing integrity and growth before other, less important desires, and about his recovery story from a painful past to a place of peace. He learned things about me, who I was, and some of the events that had shaped where I was going in my life. We talked about God, relationships, family, our pasts, our presents, and it's only in retrospect that I realized how little talk about futures there had been. We talked about karaoke, and friendships, and bungee jumping, and being silly.

And at some point in the night, shortly before I sang my last karaoke song, Larry became very serious. He looked me squarely in the eyes and said, "You are something special, you know. Just really, really special." My usual awkward and giddy self, I looked away and tried to change the subject. He focused in more closely on me, with a gaze I knew I couldn't escape, piercing right through to the core of my being. When he knew he had my attention again, he smiled a little, with the same look of sincere caring and amusement of a loving father. He added, "You are such a free spirit! Just really a free spirit, and I think that's awesome. Don't give it up. Don't let them get you down."

There was something in the way he looked at me that night, and the way he said what he did, that has been permanently burnt upon the film of my life and the story of my soul. It wasn't that he admired me or my free-spirited nature that stuck with me, but rather the overwhelming sense of longing I felt from him that night as he called me out for who I was. He wasn't telling me anything that was completely an unfamiliar idea to me-- I've always considered myself a bit quirky and free-spirited. But it was the nonverbal, the part of his communication that extended beyond his simple words and held me out in the open where I couldn't hide from myself, that made an impression. I knew that night when he said what he did that there was something more than a simple interaction going on, but I wasn't sure what.

And then my family and I moved to South Carolina, and I never saw Larry Losey again.

Shortly after the move, a friend and youth group volunteer from the church back home called, crying, to tell me the news. Larry had just passed on, and I believe she said it was from a rare form of pancreatic cancer. At that moment, on the phone, I understood what I had felt from him that night at karaoke. I still can't put it into words, but I recognize fully the emotion, the longing, the realization he was placing into my heart and for my future, from his own place of staring into the stark reality of not getting well again. For a few months, I saw him in my dreams. And then he just went away.

...

Our move to small town South Carolina in 2004 was initially a good one. The first year we were there, we realized we didn't fit in very well, but were okay with that, thinking it would be short term. Then, as our time there continued, I began to try to preserve my spunk, my uniqueness, in little ways, including using this blog as a creative outlet and emotional sounding board. And then, somehow, over time, I began to give in, in little ways, to the banality of stereotypical family life in a small town and to those who would do me harm. I quit singing karaoke, quit dancing in my living room, talked less and less about my past (even though that involved talking less and less about some of my life's most awesome lessons and insights), quit saying things that might not be socially acceptable, focused my blogging on more light-hearted and less personal things, and began to worry a great deal about fitting in and what other people thought of me. I willingly gave up so much of who I was in the name of maintaining connections-- ANY kind of connections-- with the people around me and the culture in which I was immersed, and left all my free-spirited parts behind. From talking to my husband about our lives and how the move impacted us, it seems we were going through different, but parallel, experiences of feeling we had to choose between being outcasts in our community (or at least oddballs) and giving up huge parts of who we were.

And so, last year, after the quest to become like all other nice families in our area had sucked the Life out of both of us, worried about what we were providing for our children, feeling like our integrity had been sacrificed, we decided we needed to move. Neither of us wanted to be in a big city, but neither of us wanted another super-small town, either. We wanted somewhere progressive, where we wouldn't be the oddballs, and where spontaneity, intellectual curiosity, and spiritual seeking were the norm, and where we could more fully express who each of us wanted to become. We researched, and inquired, and prayed, and finally settled on a smallish (but not too small), crunchy town in North Carolina near a major university. We planned for a few months, and then made our move on a short term lease, which we knew would be up on June 22.

Since moving here, we've become familiar with the local culture, local opportunities, and love where we are. We were feeling the gentle nudgings of Spirit, urging us to once again become comfortable with who each of us is, flaws and all, as long as we were being real, honest, kind, compassionate, and maintaining our integrity. In spite of nudges, however, neither of us was really sure what to do, or experiencing any major life changes or shifts in the past four months.

Until the day we signed the lease on the new place we knew would be a more permanent home. Somehow, over the course of that day, I began to think of Larry Losey and our connected talk at karaoke night years ago. I remembered the way he looked at me when he declared me to be a free spirit, and felt like a disappointment for having become someone so different over the past few years, someone so predictable and boring. I felt as if my spirit had become bound up so greatly in my own fears of disappoinment, of rejection, of loneliness, and of failure, and seeing Larry in my mind's eye, smiling as he reminded me of who I was, tugged at me day and night for several days.

This one moment, frozen in my memory, reminded me of how un-fluid everything in me, everything in my life and soul and spirit and being had become over the past few years-- years that began with one betrayal and were quickly followed by another-- years in which I realized that even those people I had trusted the most and loved the most might be flawed and imperfect and leave me hurt and bewildered. The past few years were years in which I began to feel the need for something outside of me to be stable and steady and predictable, and tried to make it that way by making everything within me as stable and steady and predictable as I wanted my environment to become. Thinking of Larry and his simple assessment (one made with a delight and appreciation I haven't felt from anyone other than my husband in recent years) reminded me that this one moment has become so crystallized in my memory because it is one of the last times that someone else (other than my husband, who knows me through and through, better than I even know myself, and loves me unconditionally-- craziness, quirkiness, intensity, and all) took the time to really get to KNOW me, and further, to encourage me to be comfortable in my own skin, without having to pretend or meet a certain standard of "good"-ness before being accepted.

It's been a long 5 years, and very lonely in many ways.

And frankly, I'm glad to be moving on.

I think I realize now why Larry has been so ever-present in my thoughts over the past two weeks. I'm being reminded that we are here now, not there. I am free now, not bound. I am allowed now to open up, to explore my reality, and to become who I am. I am being reminded that deep down inside, under the wounds and scars and anxieties, there is a free spirit. Someone who is very, incredibly special and unique, and who I'd like to get to know again. Someone who, perhaps, other people might want to get to know, and come to love, and want to befriend. Someone who has something to offer that isn't tied up in social appropriateness but is nonetheless powerful and exciting.

Thank you, Larry, for the reminder. Then, and now.

Coming back

Okay, I've been inspired (partly by having my life come back into some semblance of order, partly by living in a new place that inspires my creativity, party by needing an outlet, and partly by a friend recently asking about blogging) to revive this old blog and get it back in action. First, I'm going to be transferring over some of the posts I've done on Wordpress since shutting this puppy down. Then, a little editing and reformatting. Finally, writing. I've missed blogging. It's time.

Since I used haloscan for my comments for a long time, most of the old comments are lost. But the posts are still there. :-)

Hypnobabies LIVE online radio show!

I recorded an interview last week with Kerry Tuschhoff, founder of Hypnobabies, for her online radio show. It airs tomorrow, and again Saturday, and then will be archived online. This interview is more about my personal birthing history, what led me to choose a twin HBAC, and a little about natural twin birth. I'm recording another one in a few weeks (that will air July 11) that will address specific tips for improving outcomes in twin pregnancy and planning for a natural twin birth.

Anyway, here are the details about accessing it if anyone is interested, copied and pasted from the Hypnobabies newsletter:

Birthing Twins Naturally!

This week, Friday June 13th at 9 AM Pacific Time (and Sat. 6/14 at 1 PM Pacific Time) on Hypnobabies LIVE at http://www.HealthyLife.net we have Christy, mother of 5 children, including VBAC, homebirthed twins!

Our show this week is very important since many women having multiples are told that their babies will be premature and must be delivered by Cesarean section. Not true! Christy's babies were 7 lbs each and born vaginally, at home and were a VBAC. Christy very candidly shares all of her birth stories; very personal journeys of self-discovery and growth....

Please join us for this very special show, and please pass this information on.

Hypnobabies LIVE is on at 9 AM Pacific Time, (Noon Eastern Time) on http://www.healthylife.net. (Link below also) It will be replayed the next day - Saturday at 1 PM (Pacific Time), and 4 PM (Eastern Time).

** If you are unable to tune in for the live show, each show will be ARCHIVED and retained at http://www.healthylife.net forseveral months. You will be able to access our Hypnobabies Live shows *at your convenience* and listen to our archived shows whenever you want. It will take a couple of days for each show to appear on the Archive list after it airs for the first time.

Here are some helpful hints about accessing the show:To hear our Hypnobabies LIVE show go to www.healthylife.net. (click on the link below) To listen you will need Windows Media Player if you don't have it there is a link in the upper right hand corner of their homepage that will allow you to download a free version. If you are going to listen to the program live you simply click the "LIVE listen here" button in the upper right hand portion of the homepage.

Wait a few moments for the program to load and make sure your speaker volume on your computer is turned up. After a short wait you will hear the show. Depending on when you log in the show may already be in progress. If you want to listen to an archived version of any past "Hypnobabies LIVE" show you will need to click on "Show Archives". This will take you to a list of past shows and you can select which one you want to hear.

(Edited to add: A few episodes later, I did a follow up interview where I talked in greater detail about improving outcomes with twin pregnancy and birth.)

Natural Childbirth of Twins and Triplets!

All is going well here. We're in the process of getting a few small family businesses off the ground (more on that later), but I still somehow found time to edit another fun video for YouTube. This one features over 20 moms who have had natural childbirths with their twins and triplets.

Homebirth FAQ

from http://otherhood.blogspot.com/2007/12/homebirth-faq.html

Homebirth FAQ

As this baby gets bigger and lower, I find more and more people are asking me questions about the upcoming birth. Most are particularly fascinated by the fact that I actually plan to have my baby in my house.

Q1. A homebirth! Is that safe?
A. Not particularly, but we're big, fat risk-takers.

Q2. Aren't you afraid or scared of having a baby in your house?
A. Not half as scared as I would be to give birth in the hospital. The midwife has less stuff with her she can hurt me with than the doctors have in the hospital.

Q3. How do you manage pain at home?
A. Screaming, a lot. Biting things, or people, if necessary. Lots of swear words. Sometimes, I hit people, especially my husband, whose fault this whole thing is, after all. Just like in the movies.

Q4. What if something bad happens? I've heard about horrible things that can happen during a birth.
A. We'd be really screwed. Once we get out into the woods by the fire and the drummers burning incense, we enter a force field and can't leave it to go to a hospital. Ambulances can't get in, either.

Q5. Is the midwife trained?
A. If you're lucky...but if not, usually one of the drummers (by the fire, in the woods) will drop his drum and put out his incense and come over to help in an emergency.

Q6. Why do you want a homebirth?
A. Because I'm a control freak. Why else?

Q7. Shouldn't babies be born in hospitals? They're sterile and everything.
A. If the mother or the baby is sick, a hospital is the best place for them. Then when they catch MRSA, it won't matter so much because they were sick to begin with.

Q8. What about the mess? Isn't the birth messy?
A. You obviously haven't seen my house. Blood stains, medical waste, an errant placenta...it all blends in over here.

My Birth Video

So, I finally got around to editing and uploading my video. It has been EXTENSIVELY edited, so it should be fairly safe for families and work. You see my legs (OH THE HORROR) and about as much cleavage as you would if I were in a tacky tube top. Which is a lot. But no nip. (Sorry, pervs.) ;-)

Justice?

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

I'm a few branches over on the tree, but I can only imagine the relief felt by a mom and dad who've lived for almost two years without their youngest daughter, or by a sibling whose heart has been wrenched and torn out by the criminal (and inhuman) acts of this man. My heart breaks for the girls, to struggle with the knowledge that their mother was killed by their father. My heart breaks for my husband, and also for his mother, who struggled to protect someone without really even knowing the threats she faced.

I'd like to think I'm not the type to revel in someone else's pain or misfortune, but there's something deeply satisfying about seeing someone face the consequences of their horrible behaviors. After two long years of seeing the suffering of those left behind while the guilty one went on with his life and reputation relatively intact, it's truly satisfying to imagine what must have gone through his mind as he began to watch it all crumble around him.

And at the same time, I know justice isn't always served-- not on earth anyway. Sometimes, for whatever reasons, victims wait too long to report, or evidence is destroyed, or fear is employed to buy their silence for a time. Sometimes, sadly, we can't see the perpetrator fully and publicly punished for what they've done. In those times, we just have to rest in the knowledge that deep in the heart of most people who commit heinous crimes is the knowledge and full understanding of what they've done. They carry with them in their spirits the secret anguish and guilt over what they've done, the inability to confess such sins tearing them apart inside day by day. No matter where they go, they are never, and could never be, free.

And the ones who don't have that conscience... Not much to say about that.

I hope Tim Tillman gets the legal consequences he deserves. Only then can those who loved Janet begin to work on forgiving him, and praying for his soul. It's hard to forgive someone who refuses to admit or apologize or pay for their crimes against the innocent.

Back to School Whirlwind

Aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep, I definitely feel like I'm on a rollercoaster right now, which is why I haven't posted an update in a while. And as for real, fabulous, chunky, meaty substance, this isn't going to be much of a post, either. But it's going to be an update. Take it or leave it. ;-)

Hmmmmm... Where to begin?

A) We have been visiting new churches recently. We had found a church that we thought denominationally met our needs and had been attending since October of 2006. But, it was very, very big. Big, as in too big for us to even get a call or card from anyone when the babies were born. Big, as in corporate enough that there didn't seem to really be any need for new volunteers, since everyone kind of had their thing going on already. Big, as in, well, just too big for us to feel at home. We've become weirdo country folks over the last few years, and like small town living, and the small town feel. Which brings me to our second problem with the other church-- it's in the main city almost a half an hour drive from where we live now. So, that basically limited us to Sunday morning participation since we don't head into town every day. Something in our town (which is actually about a five minute drive since we don't technically live in town anymore) would mean we could do Wednesday nights, Sunday afternoons, and more. And then there's my third problem with the old church-- it is very much a "we are the only right way" kind of denomination that isn't very good with ecumenical interactions. As much as I liked the church and its beliefs, I kind of have a hard time believing that any of the other Christian denominations are heading to Hell en masse simply because their flavor of Christianity isn't the right kind. Shoot, I don't think I completely believe that people of other religions than Christianity are definitely going to Hell en masse, for that matter. So, if being an exclusivist Believer is a requirement, I'm really going to be a crappy church member. Anyway, we believe we've found a new church home in our own little town, and we really like it. It's a small church, with lots of room to grow and opportunities to serve, and the people are fabulous. We'll see how it goes.

B) We've begun our homeschool year, and all the activities that come along with it. We started back to our year on September 17. We've also started the boys back to Cub Scouts (one is a second year Webelos and on track so far to have the Arrow of Light award, as well as every possible Webelos badge, and the other is a Tiger Cub), and Sassy Pants started back to American Heritage Girls. We're doing Scout popcorn sales and AHG candy bar sales, and I have to say that once again, I remember why I hate fundraisers. The two oldest are now in a homeschool Chess Club for 3rd grade and up once a week, my Webelos boy went to his first Boy Scouts campout over last weekend, and I took the four youngest munchkins on a field trip to an upstate farm. At the campout, big guy learned how to canoe and much more, and at the farm we learned about beekeeping, sheep herding, and got to eat goat and emu chili. We start our science unit on astronomy tonight! :-)

C) The babies are fabulous! They're now rolling over, trying to sit up, talking, cooing, and beginning to interact with each other. They weigh almost 17 pounds each at almost 5 months, and are in size 6-12 months clothing. As much as people made fun of us for wanting a 4th child, and as much as I almost had a heart attack when the sonographer told us it was a 5th one too, I can't imagine life without both of them. They're both very easy and very sweet babies; the only part that is sometimes hard is that there's two of them.

D) The house is coming along great. I got it all organized (at least well enough to have company) before Sassy Pants's 7th birthday party on September 22. It gets DARN COLD in there early mornings on cold nights. Winter is going to suck a fat one. Luckily, some friends from our new church have some farm land that needs clearing, so we'll be able to get boatloads of firewood one day in October when we go to help clear it out. Hopefully we can use the wood stove and bedroom space heaters wisely enough and avoid a killer gas bill this winter.

E) I've begun work on writing the book I've always threatened to write. I'm almost done with the introduction, and will occasionally post updates here about how far I am. The goal is to write about 10 pages a week. And no, self-centered, self-absorbed, manipulative crazy person, it's not about you. So get over yourself. ;-)

F) The hubster took a second job a couple of weeks ago. We really want to be able to buy this house, which will require getting ahead financially. We've been doing a so-so job of treading water and making teeny progress towards paying off more debt, but that won't get us where we want to be when we want to be there. So, we're going to continue to live off of job #1 for our regular expenses, and use 100% of the money from job #2 to pay off debts and begin to save up towards a downpayment on the house. If I could find a job I could do without abandoning the kids and giving up the SAHM and homeschooling, I would do that. We're just about ready to get radical if it gets us out of debt faster.

G) What kind of space cadet makes snotty comments to someone who OBVIOUSLY believes in having a big family about thinking that big families are bad? Seriously? It's been over a month now since someone offended me and the hubster-- someone we both care about very much-- and it's still a sore spot with us. The person was drunk at the time of the offending comments, so hubs and I were both wise enough to refuse to take the bait or try to engage in such an important conversation with someone who was obviously enebriated, but it definitely ticked us off. I'm going to update the family philosophy page of this blog to reflect what we believe about family size.

That's about it for the updates for now. I was going to add in a few pictures to the post, but time and technical constraints force me to save that for another post. :-)

Happy birthday to me!

happy birthday to me

happy birthday to me

happy birthday, old lady

happy birthday to me!

Can't wait 'til tonight to go see my annual meteor shower. What a birthday gift! Thank you, God!

My Twin VBAC/HBAC Birth Story

Okay, so I wrote out my birth story 2 days afterwards to share on some of my birth boards. I cleaned it up a bit and took out some of the more gory details so I could share it here. I figured that some of my online pals may be curious about it, and hope that some of the folks finding my blog by searching about twin pregnancy will read this, be encouraged and inspired, and know that natural birth IS a safe option for women having multiples.

So, here it is-- the birth stories of HM and BN. Enjoy!

The background (skip it if you just want the birth details):

I guess it really begins with the birth of their older brother, my third child, born in 2001. I had planned a homebirth, as I had really hoped to avoid unnecessary hospital interventions. As things would turn out, I ended up transporting to the hospital and having an emergency cesarean due to transverse lie. When I transferred to the hospital, they were clearly in no rush to get me on pain relief, and I labored flat on my back until I was 9 cm dilated. During the surgery, the doctors all laughed loudly and joked with each other, not paying any attention to my crying. When I had a medication reaction and didn't think I was breathing, nobody could hear me whispering for help between their music and loud talking. I spent most of the surgery afraid that I was dying, and was amazed at the hospital's dehumanizing treatment of me and my baby. Before his birth, we had wanted a large family one day. Afterwards, I was so devastated by the loss of the birth I had planned, and so overwhelmed by fear that I would never again experience natural childbirth due to a prior cesarean, that my husband and I decided we didn’t want any more children.

Just last year, things shifted in our thinking a bit. I had researched vaginal birth after cesarean (VBAC) enough to know that it is a safe option in situations where induction, augmentation, and other interventions could be avoided, and we decided to try to conceive our fourth child. After I was pregnant, I began my search for a provider, and found that several local hospitals no longer allowed planned VBACs, and that none of the local doctors would be fully supportive of a VBAC. I looked into homebirth with a direct entry midwife, only to learn that the midwife licensing board made it illegal for direct entry midwives to deliver VBACs in my state as of 2004, even though they had successfully been attending VBAC homebirths for many years before then. Only a CNM could deliver a VBAC at home, and no CNMs in my state could find a backup OB to support them in a VBAC homebirth.

Through referrals from our many friends who had given birth at home near us and online acquaintances, we found a very naturally-minded midwife in a nearby state who used to work our area before she moved away. While she was not willing to drive all the way to SC (a several hour drive from her) while I was in labor, she was willing to take me on as a client provided we were willing to drive for appointments and for the birth. We agreed, and began our search for somewhere to stay for two weeks before and two weeks after our due date, so that we would already have a temporary home to have our homebirth VBAC (HBAC).

A month after securing our midwife’s services (but just before our first appointment with her) and feeling confident with our course of action, we went in for a non-medical ultrasound to find out gender, and were SHOCKED to learn that we would be having both a little girl AND a little boy. The sonographer took several extra pictures for us (including several showing that we had two placentas, which later proved valuable information), and later that day we panicked, calling our midwife and letting her know we would be finding an OB and switching providers. We were just too scared to go through with a twin HBAC.

We did a little more research, though, and found that twin VBAC moms are no more likely to suffer uterine rupture than singletons, learned that twins with two placentas have minimal complications (if any) compared to singletons, and began to wonder if it was really necessary to resign ourselves to a mandatory cesarean at the hands of a surgeon. I called my midwife back and asked her what her experience had been with twins. It turned out she has delivered tons of twins when working in hospitals, and almost 20 sets of twins (including many twin VBACs) since switching to a primarily home-based practice over a decade ago. All twin births were successful, none required transport. We switched back to the original plan, and began preparations for a twin HBAC.

Labor Begins:

For WEEKS I had been having strong and uncomfortable contractions-- so many so that I was terrified of preterm labor. Somehow I made it to 36 weeks (the earliest my midwife would attend a twin homebirth) and we relocated. My husband stayed with me and the kids Fridays through Mondays, and went home every Monday to work a full week. In spite of regularly growing contractions, I made it past 38 weeks, and when I was 38 weeks and 1 day (with a fundal height measuring 50 cm), my husband went back home to work his week. That night, I tossed and turned, having contractions in my sleep. Tuesday morning, May 8, around 3:30 am, I was awakened with painful contractions coming every 2 minutes. This had happened before, so I tried all my usual tricks to make the “false labor” go away. I had a glass of diluted wine, drank lots of water and rested on my side, and around 4:15 am I gave up and got into the bathtub to see if that calmed them. At 4:45 am, still unsure if I was in real labor or not, I called my husband and asked him to come be with me just in case it was time. At 5:00 am, I called my midwife and let her know what was going on. She told me to call my other labor assistants and get everyone on their way.

Around 5:30 am, as I was making the bed and getting my birth pool ready (I had really wanted a water birth), my water broke and things intensified. Around 7:00 am, the midwife arrived and said it was fine for me to get into the birth pool to take the edge off the contractions, and the water was SO soothing! By 7:15, the midwife’s assistant arrived, and by 7:30 my husband was there. Things get a little blurry after that point, since I was in a good bit of pain. At first, I did really well, breathing through the contractions, relaxing, staying calm. My doula and friend from back home would pray with and for me during the tougher ones, helping me to stay focused and peaceful. By around 9:30 am, I was thrashing about so badly during the worse contractions that it took four people holding my arms to keep me from drowning myself! At that point (in transition, obviously), I was exhausted already, and moved to the bed so I could lay down.

The births:

Soon, I told my midwife I thought I might be feeling the urge to push with contractions, and that it actually made me feel a little better to push a tiny bit. So, with the next contraction, I began pushing. As things would turn out, I pushed a LONG time for a little baby who had spent the last two weeks at a +1 station. It didn’t take long for him to crown, but then he couldn’t make it any farther thanks to an overenthusiastic episiotomy repair from a previous birth. I was crying, worried about how this was affecting the baby, but my midwife checked his heart tones after each contraction and reassured me that as long as his heart rate was good, we were okay. Finally, after 15 minutes of pushing with very little progress, my precious little son was born at 10:46 am. He was crying as soon as his head was out, and was nursing like a little barracuda 20 seconds after he was born! He pinked up right away, and they delayed clamping and cutting the cord until it had stopped pulsing. He weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces, and was 20 inches long.

We left him at the breast, since the nursing might stimulate contractions to get baby B into position, and from the time he was born until the time his sister’s head was firmly engaged in the birth canal, my midwife’s assistant held her in place from the outside so she wouldn’t flip. After a few minutes, contractions started up again but they shortly became uncomfortable again and I asked someone to take my little angel boy so that he would be safer than I felt he was in my arms, with all the discomfort I was in. I switched to using a breast pump between contractions to keep things going, and soon enough I knew it was time to push her out. I was exhausted, and not very enthusiastic about it at first, and couldn’t bring myself to push that hard. Plus, I was expecting that after just birthing one baby, the second one would be easier, so I don’t think I was expecting the challenge she became. At some point the midwife suggested a squatting position to push for a few contractions. It was so hard to support myself, that once the baby’s head was engaged, I was begging to lay back on the bed again. So, I pushed for the next several contractions propped up in a half-sitting position. She wasn’t moving down very much, and I was getting discouraged, so I forced myself to get a little more energetic about the pushing (since that’s what my body was telling me to do anyway). After several contractions, there wasn’t a lot of progress, and I was in pain and needed to get back on my side again. My midwife, for the second time during the births, asked everyone to take a moment and pray with me. At that point, things started to move along, and after a VERY long pushing stage, my precious daughter was born, posterior and forehead-first, with her cord wrapped around her neck and shoulders, at 12:49 pm. Her posterior position had contributed to my extended pushing phase and slow descent with her. She was a little slower to pink up, and took a little longer to figure out how to nurse, but soon enough was alert at my breast like her brother had been! She weighed 7 pounds and was 21 inches long.

I birthed the placentas at 1:09 pm, and although there were clearly two separate placentas, they had fused together in the middle and came out in one giant piece that likely weighed between 5 and 6 pounds-- almost like delivering a third baby, but without the giant head! I needed one stitch to fix a small tear from my difficult second birth. I was bleeding heavily, and over the little while after the birth had one intravenous shot of pitocin and two shots in the hip. I was also given my first dose of methergine (which I took for 2 days postpartum), and given a lot of blood-building and iron supplements to help replace what was being lost. I also had several clots remaining that my midwife manually removed, and after the clots were pulled out my bleeding began to subside. Apparently, excessive bleeding is a bit more common with twin pregnancies since my uterus had two raw areas from two placentas instead of just one.

Thoughts on the experience:

So, I have now had my first completely unmedicated, natural birth, my first home birth, my first VBAC, and my first twin birth. What an experience! I feel so good about how it all happened, and am so thankful that we chose the path we did because I KNOW that I otherwise would have been forced into an unwanted, and completely unnecessary, cesarean. Although I worried a bit before the birth about the toll that being so big was going to take on my uterine scar, during labor I never once questioned how my scar was holding up. I have no regrets about my birth experience, for the first time ever, and feel only positive about how it all went down-- not exactly easy, but definitely uncomplicated.

My babies were at the breast within minutes of being born, and my precious husband was able to be more involved in this birth than any other-- what a wonderful support he was! My other children were able to come in shortly after each birth to see their new little siblings, and the babies’ first night was spent bonding with their parents and siblings, rather than being poked, prodded, weighed, and messed with all night long. I’ve been able to rest when I need to, recover in a way that feels best, and avoid being poked, prodded, and beeped to death during an already exhausting and physically challenging time. I am SO THANKFUL for these beautiful little babies, their curious little eyes, and their sweet little cries. They are beautiful, precious, sweet, and fun to watch and be with.

I am thankful for my incredible midwife, her guidance throughout the pregnancy, her competence and patience during the birth, and her friendship postpartum. I am thankful for my birth team, my incredible midwife’s assistant, and for my friends who drove up from back home to be a part of that experience. I am thankful for my family, for my precious children for their excitement and awe of these babies. I’m thankful for my sweet husband for being there for every moment, holding my hand, stroking my hair, and kissing my forehead; for encouraging me, believing in me, and helping me out; and for being a complete and active partner in the birth process. And most importantly, I’m thankful to God.

Many times during this pregnancy, I prayed for this pregnancy to be safe, to protect us during this uncertain time, to guide us as we made choices about our birth plan, to keep me and my unborn children safe and healthy throughout the pregnancy and birth, and to help us to somehow fit all the pieces together for the birth to come together according to the Divine plan. I committed that if all went well, and my babies were born safely into the world, I would give back to others planning for their twin births. Ultimately, it wasn’t just me, or my midwife, or my birth team, or my husband who brought these children into the world. It was pure Spirit, whose wisdom guided every aspect of the experience. I truly believe that the universe provided the perfect people to surround me during birth, the perfect place for me to birth, and the perfect babies to hold in my arms, grateful for the opportunity to parent two more little ones and in awe of the divine aspects of motherhood. What a blessing!

If anyone reading this has heard any of the usual doubts cast upon the ability of twin or VBAC moms to birth safely, please know that there are options. Natural twin birth or natural VBAC (or a natural twin VBAC) may not be the right choice for everyone, but it can be the right choice for some women, and it can be done safely. I have proof!

(And there's now a video to go along with the story )

Lookin' for fun, and feelin' groovy!

Two weekends ago was a FIASCO of a weekend. I didn't blog about it here, but suffice to say it was a prime example of how Murphy's Law can be demonstrated in a family's life. Over and over and over. I started off the weekend with best intentions, including listing two beds and a large TV on Freecycle just to get them out of my storage unit and attic. Two nice families were going to take the beds, and the TV was going to be delivered to a local children's home that responded to my ad so that their boys would have a TV if they ever could afford to get a game station of some sort. I was so excited to be donating the TV, that I called up my sweetheart of a little brother to ask if he'd donate his old Nintendo 64. Turns out, he sold that Nintendo years ago, but since he only plays his Gamecube and XBOX360, he donated his nice Playstation 2, and a bunch of games.

We were about to head into town to pick up the TV from our storage unit and take it to the children's home cottage, when the family who wanted the bed from our attic called and asked if they could come pick it up. We said sure, and I decided to go check out the leaky spigot on the back of the house while waiting for them to arrive. Long story short, the pipes were OLD, and after gently twisting the spigot a little to see how hard it would be to replace, the entire pipe broke and we had to turn off water the the whole house. We tried calling a plumber, but couldn't reach anyone at first. And then, the family who came to get the bed managed to break the spring on our attic ladder and left before we noticed. GRRR! So, in South Carolina in the ridiculous heat of a July day, my husband and 10 year old climbed into the attic, and I held the door shut for ten minutes while they fixed the spring. I opened the attic to let them out, and SPROING!!!!! The spring came off again. So, back into the sweltering attic they went, for round two of fix-the-spring. Ten minutes later, they emerged, smelling like camels and soaked to the bone with sweat. With no water to do so much as wash their hands, much less take a shower.

Frustrated, I called the family that wanted the bed from the storage unit and the children's home houseparent and let them know we'd just have to bring their things Sunday, and we went to swim at my dad's house so the kids and my husband could rinse off. While there, I managed to reach a plumber, who came by the house that afternoon and got the water working again, just before dinner and bedtime. That was Saturday, July 7.

Sunday morning of the 8th, we woke up and decided things would be different. We skipped out of Sunday morning church because we accidentally overslept (we usually attend Saturday vigil anyway), got up and ready, and went to the storage unit after lunch. The family who wanted our storage bed met us there and picked it up. And then, the real fun began. On Friday, I had arranged with the storage unit rental office to move all of our things into a smaller unit in a different building on the other side of the property, since we'd be getting rid of a lot of stuff and never really needed the bigger one to begin with. So, we borrowed a pickup and a hand truck from the family business, and spent an hour and a half loading up our pickup. The kids worked so hard, and I was so proud of them for all pitching in! And the babies slept peacefully in the back of the minivan the entire time. Once we got it all loaded, we were so excited to have it all finished, loaded up the truck and minivan, and drove across the property to the building where our new, smaller, unlocked unit awaited.

At least that's how we had envisioned it.

When we went inside the building to find our new unit, it had a lock on it. A big, red lock. I called the office, hoping it would have an after-hours phone number for situations like this, but no. So I left a frantic message begging for help from anyone who might check the messages over the weekend. And then I went back to the building with the locked unit, and check the doors of EVERY unit, hoping to find one unlocked that we could claim. Locks. On every door, even. After half an hour more of brainstorming some way to make lemonade out of lemons, I gave up. We decided to move everything back into our old unit. But first, someone was going to feel my pain, at least a little.

By now, both babies were in their car seats screaming their heads off. I got into the van with the babies, rolled all the windows up and closed the doors (to improve the sound quality, of course), sat in the middle of the van between the two screaming babies, and called the storage unit office voicemail one more time, with babies howling in the background foreground.

"Hello, this is Christy again. We've decided to move everything back into the old unit. We will not be able to borrow a truck again until next weekend. And I'll look forward to hearing from you Monday so we can work out some way, perhaps a big credit on our account, that we can make this all a little more fair. Thank you very much!"

And then, with babies screaming, and our 5 year old son crying, "Mommy PLEASE don't make us move it all back-- I don't wanna move it all back," my sweet husband and I moved all the big stuff quickly into the unit. Then I sat in the van and nursed babies while my husband and children made a billion trips to move the rest of the small stuff. It took an hour to move it all back in.

We needed something to make us happy, so we took all my brother's PS2 games (which were all rated T) to our local used game shop, explained that they had been donated but would not be appropriate for the children's home, and asked if we could get some credit to swap out for rated E games. The game store manager was so sweet, he gave us full retail credit, and we got 6 new, fun games for the boys. We called over to the cottage, and went by to deliver the TV, PS2, and games ourselves. Our kids LOVED it, and the looks on those boys' faces were priceless! What fun!

Anyway, that was the weekend before last.

I was hoping, praying, that this weekend would be better. And it was!

Friday afternoon we moved our stuff to the new storage unit (I got my credit, by the way). Friday evening, we left the three oldest kids in good hands, and the Mr. and I got to go out on a pseudo date (milkshakes at Hardee's while the babies slept in their car seats next to us). Saturday was spent preparing food, playing with my new birthday present (which will be announced once I have time to post about it properly), and enjoying family time. And Sunday was spent in family time until the afternoon, when our new friends came over for a cookout. We had so much fun, the kids played well, and the grownups had a great time! We were even able to discuss religion over dinner without things falling apart (we're currently attending a Catholic church, they're Adventists), which is no small feat on a "first date" with new buddies. And the dad is cool, which is a good thing. Many of the dads we meet in this area are macho Bubba types, so meeting another nice, semi-progressive dude was a good thing. At one point, the other mom and I walked from the kitchen to the livingroom to find the two dads there talking, each one with a baby in their arms. Sweet!

So, I woke up this morning feeling slightly tired out from visiting into the evening, but feeling very, VERY much at peace and content. It's amazing what a refreshing and fun weekend can do for the spirit.

New Friends

As you may remember, I live in a tiny town. It has ONE grocery store. Two days ago, we went shopping there.

As we were heading into the store, I saw another mama with her minivan parked next to mine. She commented the standard comment I get when I go anywhere with three big kids and baby twins-- "Wow, you have your hands full!" She said it smiling, though, instead of snotty like they usually say it, and I liked her. I laughed and said, "sort of!"

Three cute kids jumped out of the car and followed her as she walked into the store. They looked like little ragamuffins-- in a good way! Big curly locks falling into their eyes, play outfits on that didn't match. I bet they homeschool, I thought to myself, and I made a mental note to try to find an opportunity to chat with her if I could work it in. But I didn't see her again in the store.

Later, while loading my groceries, I saw her come out and load up her van. "You have a beautiful family," I said, hoping to strike up a conversation. "Thanks," she replied. And then I chickened out. That stupid social anxiety welling up, I got into the driver's seat and closed the door. Disappointed in myself for not saying more, but still harboring some hope that we might still get to chat, I rolled down my windows (something I NEVER do when it's 100 degrees outside) to remain a little more accessible. She got behind the wheel of her car, cranked it up, and shifted into gear. Then, a funny thing happened. She drove her van right up next to mine, rolled down her window, and shouted, "Do you homeschool?"

Turns out she's a homeschool mom who has only lived in the area a few months. We talked in the parking lot for a few minutes, and then exchanged phone numbers before leaving. I called a little while later to invite her and her kids over to swim, and we had a BLAST! Turns out, they homeschool, they're vegetarian, they're into whole foods and natural living, and fairly crunchy in a few other ways!

Meeting her has been the highlight of my week, and it just goes to remind me to get out of my shell a little more!

Oh, AND I got an early birthday present tonight. But it's special enough to require its own post (maybe tomorrow) to present it to you. :-)

New Hobbies!

Okay, some of you TS old timers may remember my post, Do It Yourself = Therapy for Stubborn People. Well, I've been at it again. But THIS time around, I'd like to do it right. So, I've been learning some new tricks.

First off on our hit parade of DIY magic (as opposed to the DIY madness of years past)-- gardening. Successfully, even!

Since we have a limited area in the back yard that gets enough sunlight, Mr. Thinking Southerner read up on "square foot gardening," which is a method of gardening that helps you grow more stuff in smaller spaces. So, we have three big garden boxes full of tomatoes, squash, zucchini, cucumbers, green beans, okra, canteloupe, swiss chard, spinach, lettuce, peppers, and more! And our live to die plant ratio has been pretty good!

Number two on our hit parade of DIY magic: Canning and pickling!

With all those tasty garden treats, might as well learn to preserve them, right? So two weeks ago, I made my first ever pickles-- bread and butter. DELICIOUS! And then two nights ago, I made dill pickles. They were fabulous, though not as good as bread and butter. I've always liked homemade sweet pickles better than dill, even though I like store-bought dills better than sweet.

Number three on the hit parade: Sewing!

 

 

I'm not that great at it yet, but I'm learning, beginning with small and simple projects. I've made a few baby carriers and slings, and a couple of play dresses for my girls. And beginning this fall, I'm going to start taking sewing classes at the local fabric store to get better at it.

Number four on our hit parade of newly acquired skills: Basic carpentry!

Last summer, we put together a very complicated build-it-yourself playground for the kids, from a kit that had all the parts pre-cut and ready to assemble. It boosted our confidence, so when we found out we were having twins and wanted bunk beds for the kids' rooms, we decided that instead of buying bunk beds, we would make them ourselves using construction plans we ordered from www. bunkbedsunlimited.com . We bought all the lumber and hardware for the project, cut it, sanded, drilled, stained, painted, and assembled it all ourselves, and VOILA! Bunk beds!

So, there you have it! Just as stubborn as ever, but the therapy is working. AND, I'm actually learning new skills now. What's next on my DIY learning list? Who knows where the wind will blow me...

Dear Blogger,

I'm afraid I've been a bit unfaithful in our relationship.

I've been cheating on you, with a slew of hussied up parenting discussion forums with big hair and too-dark lipstick. Sure, they're not as fulfilling and meaningful as this relationship has been in the past. But they served a purpose for me for a short time, during a period of weakness on my part.

During my pregnancy, I was a bit freaked out. You see, I hadn't been pregnant in years, and the thought of being pregnant again was alien to me. After monkey #3 had been born, we spent a few years thinking we were done having kids. Planning for a new kid meant shifting my thoughts and focus back to having babies again! Planning for a new kid also meant having to learn everything I could about the safety, methods, and preparation regarding giving birth naturally after a prior cesarean. Monkey #3's birth (a cesarean) had been fairly traumatic for me, and had led to a LOOOOOOONG period of post-partum depression, so I was interested in avoiding a similar trauma this time around.

And then I found out it was TWINS-- WHOA! That of course necessitated trying to find other twin mamas online who had similar views on birth, breastfeeding, cosleeping, etc.

So, I'm afraid I became a bit addicted to the online support and chit chat I found on Babycenter, MDC, and NPT.

So now, the babies are here. The birth went well. Breastfeeding is established and going off without a hitch. Cosleeping rocks for lazy breastfeeding moms, twins or not. And all is well in the world of The Thinking Southerner. I have no excuse for my behavior. As it stands now, most of my online discussion forums are no longer uber-useful, and are primarily a form of entertainment. It's so different from my typically dysfunction-free real life to watch supposedly grown women fight online as if they are still stuck on the middle school playground. So different, so exotic and unusual and enticing...

And then there's the nak. In case you, Dear Blogger, are not familiar with the mommy discussion board lingo, nak stands for "nursing at keyboard." Most of the time that I'm sitting still long enough to open a browser and hit the keys, there's a baby hanging off my boob. Typing one handed lends itself to shorter and less meaningful posts, which isn't exactly my preferred blog posting style. Typing two handed while nursing means that I have to perfect my acrobat routine, as balancing a baby (or two) on my knees (which are propped up on the computer desk) while trying to hold a stream of thought is not easy.

And that, old friend, is why so many of the posts you've had lately have been quizzes, or reposts, or plain old lazy and un-thought-provoking.

So, Dear Blogger, there you have it. My lame attempt at an excuse for my infidelity. I know I am not deserving of your love, but if by some chance you'll have me back, I'll try to do better from now on. Just be patient with me as I rebuild our relationship-- I've been through LOTS of change.

I am so blessed!

New babies born 5/08/07

One was 7 pounds 4 ounces

The other was 7 pounds even

 

Completely uncomplicated and unmedicated homebirth after cesarean

My last belly pics taken Sunday, May 6, at 38 weeks: