Here, Little Kitty

A few years ago, my niece Bella would demand that we all call her "Little Kitty." She would crawl around on her hands and knees and nudge you to pet her. She would purr and meow and sit on your lap like a cat. This was an incredible adorable phase, and I was a little sad to see her grow out of it.

But then I saw this.

Little Kitty, Part II.

Hot Cross Buns

Scott and I often wonder what the girls' futures hold.

When Claire studies how something fits together, we say she's going to be an engineer.

When Grace squeals at the sight of our dog Izzy, we say she's going to be a veterinarian.

When Claire plows through a tower of blocks, we say she will grow up to work in construction or the demolition derby.

And when Grace sat down at the piano and very intently played it, we said "Yep. She's gonna be a band geek."

Refreshed

Last week, I failed to mention that a fairly significant event was taking place this past weekend.

I'm sure it was mostly just an oversight. But I also know part of me was nervous to tell you. Nervous that she would rear her ugly head if I so much as mentioned what we were planning.

But now that the event has come and gone and everything was a roaring success, I feel safe telling you.

Scott and I went out on Saturday and didn't come home for the night. THE ENTIRE NIGHT. This marks the first time since the day we brought the girls home that we have had a night alone. (Thanks, Grandma!!!)

We had dinner, saw a movie (Harry Potter, naturally), and then crashed for the night. No middle-of-the-night-waking, no-early-morning-rising, just slept the whole night through.

It was refreshing.

Now, back to the grind. And by grind, I mean the joyous and rewarding job of raising twins.

Picture of the week: Nov. 19

It began as a challenging week (see the lack of blog posts). A week that tested my patience and pushed me to the limit. I felt like I was barely hanging on. I started fantasizing about them being 16 and sleeping until noon.

But as the days went by, things got a little better each day. And by yesterday, I found myself feeling sad that they are growing so fast. I have decided 16 can wait.

Rescued

There are days that I feel like I am drowning. Drowning in a sea of screams and whines and heartbreaking cries.

Today was one of those days.

Following a weekend of missed naps and cranky babies, I was barely treading water as it was. But I just kept thinking, "Wait 'til Monday. It's always better on Monday."

It wasn't.

I was holding my breath yesterday morning when I attempted to lay Claire down for her nap. All weekend long she had been resisting the nap — fighting the nap. But things are always better on Monday, so I dove head in and hoped that she would lay down and get some much-needed rest. She very loudly and resolutely said no.

And I had a mini-meltdown.

She was crying. Which made me cry. Which made her cry more.

We were a complete disaster.

So, I called my mom and told her in between sobs, "I can't do this job anymore. It's too hard. I don't know what's wrong with her. She won't sleep. She just cries. I just can't do this."

My mom, knowing exactly what I needed, said "Do you want me to come?"

Oh. My. God. Yes. Please.

So, she came, and sprinkled her magical grandmother dust on the girls, turning what could have been a major meltdown into a tolerable day.

And when she was leaving and the girls were laying down for the night and Claire was screaming her heart out, she gave me a hug and stayed with me until she fell asleep.

Turns out even 28-year-old exhausted, worn-out, frustrated moms need their moms, too.

Thanks, Mom. I owe you one.

Miserable Mary

Never before in my entire life have I ever wanted someone to poop as badly as I did last week.

It was three days. Three LONG days since Claire had a proper bowel movement. This is the girl who we used to call McPoops Alot. So, I can't even begin to describe how miserable she was because of the constipation. And her misery turned into the whole family's misery.

For days, she would cry and moan and whimper all day long. And then she would wake screaming during the middle of the night. Completely inconsolable.

We were all in a very bad place.

Until about 4 p.m. on Thursday I get a call from Scott.

She pooped. Twice.



Sweet, sweet relief.

Picture of the week: Nov. 12

The girls love to wave. They started doing it a couple of weeks ago, but I've had an incredibly hard time capturing it on camera. But here it is, in all of its blurry glory.