My Gray Child

Husband Face and K-Dog playing in his room.

Side Bar:
Like the "sun shade" on his windows? K-Dog was waking up "with the sun," and I was getting cranky. I started looking for blackout window coverings and it was going to cost us $80 for ONE window. Solution: Black sheet, stapled to the framing, $4. Works like a charm. Looks perfect when it is down and keeps it cooler in there during summer, warmer in winter. I literally do an evil laugh every time I think about the suckers buying "blackout shades." Sue me if my home isn't Pottery Barn approved, actual living human children live here, we cannot afford style and class.

Over the past several weeks I have been spending my nights with my sister at ICU bed #1. Most nights I am able to put the babies to bed but K-Dog is left to fend for himself with Husband Face. I try to call him right before he goes to sleep to ask him how his night went (generally on summer nights he is allowed to do fun things like swim or bike or tackle our dog).

On this particular night he went night swimming with Husband Face:

K-Dog: Hi Mama. I went swimming and played with a boy. He let me play with a gun and I shot him.

Me: Wow. What a nice boy. What boy was it?

K-Dog: The brown boy.

Me: Ummm. Who?

K-Dog: The brown boy. He is my friend and he has a gun.

Me: Put your father on the phone.

(I can hear Husband Face laughing)

Husband Face: Hi.

Me: You cannot let K-Dog refer to people by the color of their skin. I am pretty sure we will get thrown out of preschool.

Husband Face: No, it's fine. I think it is funny.

Me: Of course you do. Please have a race relations talk with your 3 year old before bed tonight.

Husband Face: That does not sound fun. Do we have a book that can explain it?

Me: Deal with it. Welcome to parenthood, nice of you to show up.

The following is what Husband Face relayed to me when I got home that night:

Husband Face: K-Dog, you cannot call people by their color.

K-Dog: Why not? You are gray.

Husband Face: Really. What color are you?

K-Dog: Gray. So is Mama, Itty-Bitty and Big J. Leia (the dog) is brown. My teachers our brown.

Husband Face: Ok, interesting. But we call people by their names.

K-Dog: I forget names, a lot.

Husband Face: Good point.

Awesome. Now I have spent countless hours trying to dig into his tiny little mind. It is not like he is being a racist. I am almost positive his preschool curriculum hasn't covered slavery or the civil rights era. Although with Barack as President, K-Dog is very curious. Being a politically vocal and inquisitive individual over the past year we have had many discussions about race/civil rights in my home, as well as on the news (which is ALWAYS on in the background of my world).

K-Dog constantly asks me: Do you like Obama or Uncle Sam? (Not the national personification of the United States, my brothers name is Sam).

or

Who is better Beyoncé or Obama? I like Beyoncé she is a single lady. (This is not a joke, he really loves Beyoncé).

I think his little brain is now more aware of other people and not so self involved. I am going to chalk this little exploration into race as childhood curiosity and not me raising a bigot. While I am not entirely sure of how to raise a child, I am steering clear of racial slurs in his expanding vocab. For now, I am not going to dive into a huge discussion on the history of race in America. I am simply trying to work on the child's capacity to remember names, as to avoid any awkward public moments and continue on my raising open minded, hippie children.

Really you think your kids are cute? Have you seen K-Dogs' dimples?

Sunday

I have probably lived more than a quarter of my life. Just when I feel like I am starting to figure my world out something happens that changes everything. I have made a list (remember I love lists) of the days/moments that turn my life in a different direction, usually not one that I planned. I put them in chronological order to ease confusion amongst the readers.

-In April 2001 I got my first job. This was so huge in my world. First of all I was one of the only people, aside from one of my best friends, College Barbie, that actually had a job. I went to school in this strange world of middle to upper class kids that were to busy to be employed. And by busy I mean they were going on "missions trips" and had choir practice and three different church services they HAD to go to, so obviously they couldn't pay for their cars or food or clothes, they were serving the Lord. This is a whole separate issue, and truly not relevant to this post. And I will add that 90% of the people that I went to school and church with are genuinely good people with good intentions. Also, at this time in my life I was also attending the occasional mission trip, and I am sure the greater Seattle/Vancouver area is still reeling from my visit, but I am bad at religion and never really got it. Like I said, a whole different post.

Back to the job. I started working at a movie theatre. I met new people that I had not known since I was five, unlike my school where I was literally in K-12 with the same folks (I have had the same best friends since my early childhood, we could be a fun girl movie). These new friends were creative and liked to talk about films and music and art. I had so much energy and was so naive, I literally could not wait to go make my own money and take on new responsibilities. I loved that job and think everyone should clean at least one movie theatre in their lifetime, you will never litter again. I saw every movie, for free, and felt liberated, not enough to ever say a four-letter-word or stop going to church, but it was a start. That job opened my eyes to new types of people and ideas, an truly great experience that I cherish.

Me and holding a very expensive piece of paper.

-In the Fall of 2003 I went away to college. I remember packing my little Toyota Celica so tight it was hard to find the radio, seriously I put a bike INSIDE the car. I only stayed for a semester at that college, but I was hooked. I loved learning. I loved sitting down with a new class schedule and thumbing through it to find the perfect class to fill a time slot. I loved studying until I fell asleep in the library. I loved starting over. Truly school is something that I can manage with ease. It was never too difficult for me, granted I was a Communication major, not exactly rocket science. Teachers loved me and I was an eager student for them to feed ideas to. I soaked it all up. Daily I wish I was on a college campus somewhere heading to a class to discuss the previous nights reading. Graduating was a sad day for me, the end of my eager student era. K-Dog is in summer school at my Alma Mater and everytime I pick him up I wish I was walking from a Rhetorical Theory class and not from the latest mommy play date. I am a nerd at heart.

K-Dogs first Christmas morning.

-My spring break in 2005 was a big one. I met Husband Face and shortly thereafter was prego with K-Dog. It is strange how pregnancy changes you. Aside from the glaring body image issues, I instantly become less selfish. Sharing my body with a fetus is not fun for me. I am not one of those happy cute pregnant women. I was miserable and not a fan of waddling around college campuses. But I did it. I was bound and determined to not mess up this kids life. I realize we are only three years into this parenting gig but, I am fairly confidant in saying that we have avoided giving him major psychological issues. K-Dog makes sure to remind me daily that I am not an old pro, and need to be more patient and not threaten to take away his speaking privileges (True Story: One afternoon I forbid him from talking until his father came home. You would have done the same thing if you had been fielding questions all day about why my car doesn't talk like Lightning McQueen or why we cannot eat lunch while we are in the pool).

Cuddling.

-In January 2009 we brought the twins home from the hospital. They were really not that difficult to deal with when we were at the hospital, partially because K-Dog was with his grandma and partially because ALL I had to do was hold them. No laundry or dishes or dirty floors were glaring at me. Also, I love nurses, enough said. Once Itty Bitty and Big J were at home everything changed. I immediately felt like the Old Woman who lived in the shoe with all so many kids she had no clue what to do.

The space issue was major, well still is. The first three months of their lives they slept in various places in our room. Itty Bitty had colic and major reflux issues so she was in a modified Pack n' Play that was elevated to accommodate her issues. Poor Big J got shoved in our walk in closet in a baby hammock. Mind you, this is not a master suite, it just a room with a tiny bathroom and walk-in closet, not spacious without four people sleeping in it, but we literally had no other options. Since then we have all three of the ankle bitters in the other room. K-Dog is in a twin bed, Big J is in a full size crib (which he briefly shared with Itty Bitty. You always here cute stories about twins cuddling and sleeping together for years, this was not the case for us. Big J often "attacked" Itty Bitty), and Itty Bitty is in the same Pack n' Play. They are still no where near sleeping through the night, it has been a long 6 months.

Aside from the cramped living conditions, the noise and overall stress in the household increased exponentially from each child. I know that I will one day look back and long for the days that I had to run a hair dryer for 45 minutes to get the twins to sleep and had to prepare for hours to do simple activities like going to the pool (less than 50 yards from my front door), but right now in my current state of mind, I often think about escaping with a good book and a strong margarita to a private island with no kids allowed.

Multiple babies changed me much more than just having K-Dog. He was a relatively easy baby and I still had MY life going on. The twins have drained any social tendencies I had left. Even if I had the time to go out, I think I would opt for a good nap.

My lil' sister holding Itty Bitty or Big J (I know I am a bad mother for not having a clue which child it is)

-On July 19, 2009 my little sister was in a really bad car accident. We were basically told to say our goodbyes a few times. I have never been in an ICU or had to deal with any type of tragedy. So I have definitely had finer moments of composure. As of today she is stable, but it has been a rocky couple of weeks. Lil' Sis is still unconscious, has a broken neck, had brain swelling/bleeding, lungs collapsed and is currently in traction with a broken femur. The hospital she is at is the best, but about 40 minutes from my home and the ICU is obviously not kid friendly, but I try to make it there daily. I sit and read Harry Potter (which I have been warned could cause more damage, but I am confidant that they have not read the CHILDRENS' book) to her. I had one bad bad day with lots of crying and questioning and now that is done. It is not productive to cry or be sad. I am hopeful and trying hard to have a positive attitude.

From all bad events/days/circumstances a lesson can be learned. This tragedy has taught me to give lots of hugs and tell people you love them a lot, even if I don't at that moment. And while lots of people draw on faith in times of trouble, I am not one of them. As previously stated in this post, I am bad at religion. I am glad that my family feels comfort from prayer, and it seems to bring them peace. I also love these people a lot and I am grateful for their support and love, especially during this tough time, even though they know (maybe not accept) that I am a a bleeding heart liberal making my own crazy path wandering away from their religion.

Please keep my sister in you thoughts/prayers/good vibes. I will take help from any Deity. Also if you are in the greater San Diego area you can donate blood under group code JS21. If you would like updates about my sister from my persistent father you can check out her Facebook Page.

Too Hot To Have Body Image Issues

Palm Springs in all of it's very hot glory.

The Rancho Las Palmas, has an awesome kid area with popper park, beach (with sand) and a lazy river. We didn't even go to the adult pool because we felt like we related more with the children and the noise.

For our second wedding anniversary we decided to go to Palm Springs for a one night getaway. Neither of us had been there since high school (apparently Husband Face went with some man named Bruce in a van for a "tennis trip," he has never played tennis before, this is suspect) and since it is literally hotter than hell there (I imagine that hell is 100 degrees, to keep it simple for the demons) the hotel rates are dirt cheap in the summertime. Honestly we could have stayed in the Motel 6 down the street and would have been so overjoyed to sleep a solid 5 hours, but Husband Face did it up big (well, "big" for two poor people that have basically been on house arrest and sleep deprived for the past six months).

It was such a teaser vacation. We know that no one can handle all of our kids for over one night, so as we sat poolside it was bittersweet. Bittersweet for two reasons:
1) We didn't want to get to comfortable in our inner tubes, because we knew the screams of little children was our fate in a few short hours.
2) I had two babies 6 months ago, I have zero motivation/time to go to the gym, a bikini was not my ideal outfit choice. However, it was so damn hot, going outdoors in anything more than a loincloth would be criminal.

About 20 minutes into our lazy river experience Husband Face and I concluded that we need to get our jiggly butts to the gym. There were women and men double our age that, while they were leather like and will most likely develop skin cancer, had rocking bodies that made our not obese but leaning towards extremely neglected bodies, sad. After observing this we proceed in drinking 1,000's of calories in margaritas and sat in our tubes for 3 hours. We also got milkshakes and fries on the drive home. Seeing beautiful people in bathing suits profoundly affected us for half a day.

I ran for a quarter of a mile to Petco with my crazy dog biting my ankles the whole way. I have also gotten dressed for the gym 3 times resulting in zero actual trips to the gym. Right now I am in gym attire, and I am seriously considering going once Husband Face reappears from his daily 8-10 hour hiatus. But it is highly unlikely I will be able to peel myself away from my viral videos. Latest addiction: Anything preformed by the NYC Gay Men's Choir.

So happy together...

Big J playing rough

Fish hooking his sister at 6 months.

Super sanitary, mouth to eye action.

Itty Bitty thinks it hilarious and Big J knows it.

Highlight of my week: Giving Blood

Prepared to save lives.

I am seriously not trying to be a martyr or proclaim how awesome I am, but this week I took my butt and the twins tiny butts down to the blood bank and gave blood. When I was in college there was always a blood mobile on campus so I would donate there, creating a habit for cranberry juice and snack food. This was the first time I had been to an actual blood bank. And the first time I had ventured to donate while caring for kids simultaneously.

So I casually stroll in with two infants and a mission. I can be a contributing member of society and can function with all of these tiny people outside of the walls of my home. I just fed Itty Bitty and Big J so I knew I had about an hour before the proverbial shit hit the fan (knowing full well that with my luck it could be possible for real feces to hit a fan). After going through all of the paper work and oh's and ah's of people realizing that I have twins, I finally get to a chair.

The twins were content in the stroller and I realize that no matter what for the next 10-15 minutes I HAVE to sit here. It was so awesome. They start taking my blood and I am feeling good. My nurse asks me if I want anything to drink and I tell her to keep the cranberry juice coming. It was sort of like being on a lounge chair in Cabo, but inside, with children and no vodka in my cranberry juice. The whole time I am chatting it up with the guy next to me and his daughter. They were donating for their twins in the hospital and I was sharing some of my baby horror stories with the new dad. Itty Bitty was cracking up at all of the different nurses and new sounds and sights and in turn Big J was laughing at her laughing. It was really a good time. I felt like not only was I saving lives but I was sufficiently showing this father the ups and downs have having twins. Ten quick minutes later I was done with my donation and the nurses started unhooking me, then I passed out. I have never passed out when giving blood, or ever, for that matter. Passing out is weird. Apparently I was only out of it for a minute but I had the craziest most involved dream. Not being a drug user, that is what I imagine acid feeling like. I came to not remembering that I had responsibilities or hands...

I spent the next two hours negotiating with nurses that I was fine and needed to go. K-Dog was at summer school, but the child is better off there than in my care on most days. Honestly I did not try that hard to get released. It just kept getting better. The majority of the nurses all wanted to hold a baby, and forbid me to, so I had a team of babysitters while I continued on my cranberry juice and cookie binge. While I cannot guarantee that your local blood bank will be as awesome as mine, it really couldn't hurt (only a pinch, and the possibility of passing out and having crazy acid dreams) to try it as a quasi-babysitting service. According to blood donating policies I cannot go back until mid-August, which is silly to wait because I have lots more blood ready to go. Come mid-August I plan on being there under the guise of saving a life.

DONATE!!! Find your local blood bank here.