sweet dreams

The past two nights I had every intention of posting a little something on here. {I also had every intention of putting the laundry away...} I will blame my lack of productivity on P-dubs. And here's why. He's the best baby-putter-to-bed I've ever seen. He changes them. He talks to them. Makes them laugh and get all riled up and then miraculously calms them down right into the heavy eyelid phase. He puts them in their bassinets. {Yes. They still sleep next to our bed. Mostly because I am (1) paranoid and (2) lazy. When you're still feeding two babes a few times in the night you don't want to be dragging yourself down the hall to the nursery where you will have to turn on a light, pick up a baby, and THEN feed them. By that time everyone's completely awake. And we will have none of that in this house. I prefer nighttime babies to stay mostly asleep. No matter what.}And leads them off to the Land of Nod via his guitar. Well, apparently, his ghee-tar has some magical effect on this mama as well. The last few nights I've climbed into bed as he's playing the girls to sleep thinking that after they were sleeping I 'd get up and get busy on my to-do list. I've done it before, I swear. But wouldn't you know...the next time I wake up it's the middle of the night and someone needs to be fed. And there I am half-way through the night fully clothed without my teeth brushed or face washed. I've fallen asleep maybe three times in my life without brushing my teeth. And I know one of those was at summer camp.  This morning Paul said he might as well just start swaddling me and putting me down with the girls. Ridiculous. Good thing this is a Leap Year and I have a whole extra day to catch up.

the bump

 

 So...since a few people have asked, I thought I'd clear up any wonderings anyone might have about C's bump.  {Or her "bug bite" as our friend's two-year-old calls it. Must have been a reeeeally big bug.} A lot of people are sweet and pretend they don't notice it. {P-dubs and I were at lunch with one of his co-workers last week and Paul mentioned something about her bump and he said, 'Oh, I didn't even notice...' Puh-lease. You're sweet, not blind. That thing is hard NOT to notice.} 

The technical term for this bump is infantile haemangioma (hemangioma). Most people just call it a strawberry mark. It's an overgrowth of blood vessels and will eventually fade away. It's most common in Caucasians--particularly females and twins. No one is quite sure the cause of strawberry marks but our pediatrician has assured us that it's nothing to worry about and that it doesn't bother her a bit. 

Some people are quite taken back by it...I guess since it grew slowly, I don't really notice it. I notice that girl's wicked long eye lashes and silly, expressive face first. For now, it's a pretty convenient way for people who don't know the girls that well to tell them apart. It's the only way our little nephew knows which baby is which. For all the complications that could have come with a twin pregnancy, I'll take this. She's our little unicorn. {Not a little rhinoceros as P-dubs once called her until I kindly pointed out that it didn't have quite the same connotation as a unicorn. Kind of like when he called me a manatee. He means well. But we'll stick with unicorn.}

one month

Flashback: 1 month (before I got my new camera lens). These are only 3 months late. I feel ok about it. And I'm sure I'll get more timely.

 

Lola

5 pounds 12 ounces

19 and 3/8 inches

 

Sweet C

7 pounds 5 ounces

21 inches

Were they really ever this little?!?

perfection

Esther is one of my favorite books of the Bible. {We actually considered naming one of the girls Esther but went with the entirely more logical choice to name them both with boy names. Which isn't confusing at all to anyone. Ever.  Especially when we spelled 'Charlie' Charleigh.  Apparently, this can be pronounced a number of ways including the most common 'Shar-lay' pronunciation. When the doctor's office calls to remind us about appointments, they don't even attempt it. It's always for 'Logan' and 'a member of your family.' But they mean something, gosh darn it. Which I have also been meaning to write about.} 


I just love Esther. For so many reasons--it's amazing to me that the book never actually mentions God but throughout the course of the story His character is revealed in so many ways. I've been doing a Beth Moore study about Esther. {I have a love/not-so-much-love relationship with Beth Moore. Sometimes her studies are exactly what I need and sometimes I think her comparisons of Biblical feasts to her setting out her fine China are a little silly. I doubt those two compare at all but I appreciate her effort to try to relate for us commoners.} Anyways. I haven't been reading this study everyday because I'm also reading about the power of prayer for my husband and going through Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest again. {Love me some Oswald.} So needless to say I don't get to ALL of these everyday and it's taking me a long time to get through it. The latest chapter I read was the part where Esther risked her life by approaching King Xerxes without being summoned. What struck me as I was reading Beth Moore's commentary on this was that Esther (most likely) was as scared as anyone of us would be in that situation. Did she feel perfectly ready to do that? Doubtful. And if she had waited until she felt perfectly ready her people would have suffered some horrible things. And Beth asked the question: " Do we believe that the only way to do something acceptably is to do it perfectly?" I fall into that trap A TON. If I can't do it exactly perfectly (in my mind) then why bother? But God doesn't call us to be perfect. We can't be and He knows that. I wasn't a perfect teacher and I won't be a perfect mother. {Case in point: These girls are clearly not identical and they seemed so different from the second they were born but while we were in the hospital in my oh-so-groggy state I accidentally fed the same baby twice until I suddenly realized I had the wrong baby. Which was hilarious and sad all at the same time.}


 I need to let go of my perfectionism because it's really more debilitating than empowering. If people waited until things felt 'perfect' to get married or have babies, I think the human race would have died out long ago. I need to rework my idea of the ideal. I can do my best job without expecting perfection from myself and others in my life. And I can live my best life without the expectation of perfection. Definitely a work in progress. 

My new perfection? Two happy, sleepy babies safe and sound in a house that has dishes in the sink and carpets in terrible need of a good vacuuming. Howie should really start earning his keep around here and help a mama out. 

our littlest valentines

And then they fell over...

valentines day

Last year I wrote about the importance of the day after Valentines Day. And I still think it's more important to show love the 364 other days of the year because you want to than on one day because you're supposed to. Still, I'm an elementary teacher at heart and I love any and all holidays. This was by far the best one I've ever had. No fancy dinner like last year or gobs of candy from students. But I got a heart-shaped Bo-berry biscuit and coffee delivered to me in bed by the most handsome Valentine I could imagine. And, considering this particular Valentine is most decidedly not a morning person, this says a lot. Must be love. Sigh. (And, bonus, he has also given me the two sweetest little Valentines I ever did see...)

We love love around here.

in honor of my valentine

...A little trip down memory lane. I wrote this for our wedding website about two years ago: the story of how we met. So epic. 

P-dubs was the first person I met on my very first night in Charlotte.  After a stressful and very hot two day trip down from NH (think breaking down outside of DC, two mattresses and three people in a station wagon…), I arrived at the house in Huntersville to find that the water had not been turned on yet. In an attempt to wash away some memory of the trip, my sister Dionne and I headed over to the other Taylor girls’ Mallard Creek apartment to take advantage of their newly cultivated Southern hospitality (ahem…shower). Upon walking into the apartment, I noticed Paul amongst the crowd of Taylor girls there to celebrate Erica’s birthday with some Coldstone cake.  I was a little too captivated with the thought of a warm, cleansing shower to form any thoughts beyond that--but my sister would later say he reminded her of Oprah’s designer, Nate Berkus. (Don’t worry, I had to Google him , too.) After our showers, as we sat there with wet hair and no make up (but feeling a lot better), I DID notice he was wearing khaki shorts and boat shoes. Hmmm…boat shoes…people in NH don’t wear those unless they're actually on a boat. And I must say, that was the best ice cream cake I’ve ever had.

Fast forward a couple months later after fall get-togethers, football games, volley ball tournaments in the park, and a drastic hair cut on my part (another story COMPLETELY)…Paul and I began to hang out more often.  Then we saw each other almost every day. Then we were dating but “not really dating.” And somehow at the end of that summer it was official…don’t ask me how or when.  And certainly, don’t ask him.  My roommates might know… but then again I lost a bet with them about this exact topic and ended up running a half marathon. 

Fast forward two years later after nephews born, sisters married, beloved grandparents lost, wonderful new friends made, old friendships strengthened, trips to hither and yon, boy hair cut grown out (praise the Lord), an inordinate amount of sporting events, and umpteen stories about my class (that he so patiently listens to)….and we are convinced that God’s best for us is for us to be together. Forever (or at least 60 or so years).  Boat shoes and all. 

The Beautiful Mess

Still love him. And his boat shoes. I'll take at least 70 more years. Thank you very much. 

moms of multiples

Today I ventured out of my house sans my two babes to a terrifying place called the Moms of Multiples Consignment Sale. First of all, it's funny to think of my girls as multiples. I mean, I realize there are two of them which makes them 'multiple.' But they are so different sometimes I forget they're twins. Maybe if they were identical I would feel differently. Anyways. These people don't kid around about their sales. Lined up for the new/expectant moms shopping hour, I literally felt like I was about to enter the Hunger Games (see conversation below...maybe I should stop reading those books...)

Or at least a Black Friday shopping experience on steroids. {And I hate Black Friday. It makes me sick to my stomach. I think everyone should boycott it next year. When people are brawling over $2 waffle makers, I think society needs to check itself.} These women don't come with bags. They come with laundry baskets. As I walked into the expo center for the regular shopping hours, I could see other moms sizing each other up. Checking out the competition. I am not nearly competitive enough to be an issue for these moms but I still made it out of there with two bouncy seats, two swings, two baby Bjornes, an exersaucer, a jumparoo, two doorway jumpers, carseat mirrors, a bumbo, a bottle drying rack, and enough clothes to last until they're 1. I think that's pretty good.  I'd like to consider myself the Katniss of the consignment sale. And now I'm exhausted.

prophetic?

7x7 link awards

My sweet and wonderful friend Erica mentioned my blog in her post about the 7x7 blog award she received so I'm passing along the challenge! 

1. thank the person who nominated you

Thank you, Erica! I aspire to be like you when I grow up...with all your cute and quaint craftiness. I don't know if I'll ever get there but here's to trying. Anyone reading this should really check out Erica's blog: The View From Africa. Erica and I went to Taylor together, were el ed majors together, and moved down to Charlotte in the great Taylor Teacher Migration of '06. I didn't know her that well at Taylor but loved getting to know her the first couple of years in Charlotte. And then she moved to Africa to teach--where she subsequently met her Prince Charming. (Go check out that post!) She only had to travel halfway around the globe to find him. Now they live in New York and have an adorable baby boy. I seriously love LOVE their story and love her more. She's just great. 

2. share 7 things about yourself 

I feel like most people who read this or know me pretty much know everything about me...I'm an open book like that. But maybe someone new is reading? 

1.  My favorite season by far is fall. I love everything about it. Granted, autumn in the south has taken a bit of getting used to. {This is bound to happen when you come from a state that's the primary destination of countless tour buses chartered just to look at leaves. Which I still think is funny. But now I totally understand and would  hop on a bus in a heartbeat to see the foliage I so took for granted growing up.}

2.  I am the clumsiest person I know. This is ironic because I was also a ballerina from the age of 3 until I graduated high school. My dance teacher was definitely brave for slapping a pair of pointe shoes on me but it worked out. 

3. I love coffee more than almost anything. But not in the truest "I love strong, black coffee and I can tell the difference between roasts and what?!? You're going to dilute the flavor with cream and/or syrup?!?" way.  I leave that up to my little brother who is a coffee connoisseur and a bit of a coffee snob, if we're being honest. No, I love coffee that is flavored and creamy and more like a dessert.

4.  I have one sister and two brothers. People always thought my family was big. I don't think so. Four kids is not that many. I'm already halfway there. 

5.  I have an embarrassing  affinity for reality tv shows. It's really humiliating but I just can't help it. Not ones like The Jersey Shore, though. You gotta draw the line somewhere, people. 

6.  I met my husband the very first night I was in Charlotte. Little did we know then how things would turn out. 

7.  I've been a lot of places in my life including: Russia, Haiti, Bolivia, Germany, France, Spain, England, Switzerland, Ireland, Greece, Italy and I'm sure a few others. I used to be a really interesting  person. Now my babies are interesting and that's enough for me. 

3. share 7 of your blog posts, in the following categories:

most beautiful: The girls' birth story...it may have been a C-section and nothing like I would have imagined it to be but it was still the most beautiful day of my life. 

most helpful: Homemade granola. This one's a keeper. 

most popular: The post where I told the world we were pregnant. With twins. I basically shared how I told Paul I was pregnant which was a pretty great story. 

most controversial: I'm the least controversial/most non-confrontational person I know. I wasn't always like this. I used to debate and argue all sorts of things...philosophy, religion, rainbows, anything. Now. I don't have time for that. But maybe my post about the goat cheese and beet salad? Some people have really strong feelings about both of those ingredients. My mother being one of them. Or maybe this one about when I split my pants at school. I mean, I do talk about my booty hanging out. Or the one I just wrote about The Hunger Games. People really love 'em or hate 'em.

most surprisingly successful: Our gender reveal party was a big success. This surprised the heck out of me because I'm constantly overbooking, running behind, and forgetting things. But that night was wonderful. Mostly thanks to Dionne and Warner. Who can also be credited for anything that went right at my wedding. 

most underrated: Ummm...maybe this one? I don't know...

most pride worthy: SInce I already linked to my post about the girls' births, I guess....this one. Because I'm proud of him. Especially for putting up with me. It can be hard sometimes. 

4. nominate seven other bloggers

a piece of the pyles

thenaturalmommy

lemons for larue

mitchells plus one 

themiltonsfromatoz

dionnemcleandavis

georgiaaveonmymind

i have a problem

And it's called The Hunger Games. I promised myself I wasn't going to read them. There was so much hype about them and, to be honest with you, the premise of the books made me a little sick. Children forced to fight to the death!? What a weird and deranged thing to write about.

My problem is that my mother-in-law shared the book with me and with plenty of nursing time to read things on my phone, I got sucked in. And now those few minutes where both girls are napping, I'm reading instead of doing productive things like the dishes or diapers or showering. Charleigh wakes up needing her diaper changed? Sorry, Charleigh. Doesn't she realize that Katniss is about to be engulfed in a huge wall of fire?! Can't this wait? {I promise I put the book down and tended to my child. Promise.}

Hunger Games time. They're excited.

I still haven't decided whether I really like the book or not but I feel like I have to keep reading to find out what happens. I also feel like I should take a self defense class or at the very least learn how to fashion a weapon out of tree bark and cattails. Or learn to use any weapon at all. And brush up on what plants are safe to eat in the wild. {Should have stuck it out in the Girl Scouts. Darn.}

 I managed to stay out of the Harry Potter and Twilight craze. (Although both series come highly recommended by some pretty rad people, I just couldn't get into them.) This one got me. Dang it. And now I'm just one of those deranged people reading about a fight to the death set in some strange future world.

And this is what I get. Because I didn't do the dishes while she was asleep, I have to do them with a baby strapped to me. Luckily, neither of us mind. Thank goodness for the Moby.

be still

Today was a big day. I got to meet these little guys.

These boys are one of the sets of twins I mentioned in this post. They were born right before Christmas at 32 weeks and are now at home weighing in at a hefty 6 pounds or so. Praise the Lord.  I left my own little twinsies in the care of their aunt and headed over with baked pasta in hand.

They were SO tiny. Be still my heart. And so floppy and newborn-ish. I know my girls were that little when they were born (and that floppy, too) but I almost can't remember it. And that scares me. How can the months go by so fast but the hours between 5 until P-dubs gets home from work at 8 seem like an eternity? Seeing those sweet babies and hearing their tiny little voices and cries just reminded me again that I need to enjoy EVERY moment. Because it won't last forever.

Tonight when I got home, I held little Lo as she fell fast asleep on my chest. I almost put her down. The dishwasher needed to be unloaded and I'm sure the laundry was ready to be folded. But I stopped myself. She will only be 3 months and 6 days old today. And she will only need me like this for a little while longer. Someday, all too soon, she will be too busy to want to fall asleep on her mom. So I held her and  enjoyed the stillness of the moment.

(This is actually Sweet C but I feel the world should be blessed by these eyelashes too.)

And, you know, the dishwasher still needs to be unloaded and I'm gonna have to run the dryer  again to fluff out the wrinkles from letting the clothes sit there so long but I don't regret it a bit. I'm so excited for Amy and the changes that are in store for her boys in the next few months. But I'm glad she's truly cherishing her moments with them now. Everyone always says it but it's true: They grow up too fast.

My 'big' girls.