Holding on

I'll admit it, I've been so preoccupied with this pregnancy, getting ready for the Twinks and wrapping my head around going from one to three children in one fell swoop, that I have completely neglected my blogging roots. I originally started this blog about Piglet. My first, at the time my only, and the greatest love of my life.

Tonight a friend sent me a link to a blog entry written by a friend of hers. It was an entry about her son and his renewed separation anxiety after having missed a week of preschool while they were both sick. This mom wondered if she'd done wrong by her son (as the teacher pried him off her leg) by sending him to school too early. She felt pangs of guilt about her son not having enough time with her because every night he begged her to sit and cuddle with him a minute longer.

One line she wrote really stuck with me: "I know these days are fleeting, but isn't the holding on as important as the letting go?"

That question really gave me pause. Piglet is reaching the age now where many of his peers are being introduced to BIG new things.

Many of my friends are making plans to send their little ones to school next fall when they're all around 2.5. This is awesome and I'm happy for them that this will be a good experience for their children. I'm not 100% sure yet, but I do not think Piglet will be among those heading to preschool next fall. I know I'll get some flack for this and on more than one occasion I've already been accused of being over protective or not making Piglet experience new situations or forcing him outside of him comfort zone because "it'll be good for him." I just know my Piglet and I know that he's the kid that might need more time before that kind of transition. And to be honest, he has a LIFETIME of school ahead of him, waiting until he's three or even 3.5 is not the end of the world in my eyes.

I received all kinds of unwelcome criticism and advice about not letting him cry it out in his crib. Even when he cried so hard he'd throw up (every time), I was met with a lot of head shaking and "he'll never learn to fall asleep on his own if you always give in" talk. I don't judge people who can Ferberize and leave their shrieking child at the gym daycare without a backwards glance. I really don't. I say, good for them for having wills of steel and a child without a strong gag reflex. Even better if they don't have to go through all that and their child is just naturally outgoing and loves new situations and environments.

Piglet however, is not one of these children. He craves proximity to me and to his dad. He co-slept with us for a long time. This was not what we intended to do, but just a response to his personality and ours. Then about five months ago, we moved him into his own full-sized bed in his own room and he loves sleeping there. He still loves it best when we cuddle with him, reading books and singing lullabies until he falls asleep. Sure it's not as easy as putting him in his crib with a lovey and a nightlight and closing the door and yes, there are nights that I wish he was the kind of kid that went to bed so easily, but I accept Piglet as he is. He has an innate need to be close to us and as long as he needs us, we are here for him.

Myself, I am here for him because I know that he won't be 13 and still happy to sit next to me on the couch running a choo choo train up and down my arm (and right now, my belly). He won't always walk around the house bellowing "Maaaaaaamaaaaa!" when I'm just in the next room. I do believe he's more demanding and sensitive than other kids his age, but that's just HIM. It's who he is and that deserves to be nurtured and respected.

As cliché as it sounds, this time goes by in the blink of an eye and I want to cherish it entirely. I want to fill Piglet's life with as much joy and as little discomfort as possible. Of course there are moments when I worry that I am holding him back, that I'm somehow stifling his growth by not nudging him to be more adventurous, more bold, more accepting of new things. Then I look back at all the times I let him get comfortable in his own time and how much better it felt to know that he got there by himself, without me forcing it.

I believe with my entire heart that I am being the parent to him that he needs me to be. As for the question posed by a fellow blogger? My vote goes to holding on...even if it sometimes means holding on for dear life.

OB update #3,267

I have had *so* many doctor's appointments with this pregnancy, I've lost track of just how many. Despite this fact, I still find myself getting anxious and worried before each one. And when I don't feel anxious and worried, it's always the ONE time that I get unsettling news. So before my ultrasound and OB visit yesterday, I was a ball of nerves. I was just sure that my cervix had shortened or that les Twinks' fluid levels were low or something untowards was happening.

Of course, I should not have been worried.

The Twinks are growing by leaps and bounds! They are 4lbs2oz and 4lbs6oz respectively. Their fluid levels are ample and they were wily as ever for the ultrasound technician, always a good sign. Baby B's arrhythmia was slightly more obvious than at my last appointment, but as Dr. Fox had told me, it would come and go throughout his infancy and adolescence, so not a source of worry.

My cervix is still long and closed at 3.6cm. Apparently it is the Cervix of Steel. After I heard that, I excused myself from the ultrasound room, went down to the parking lot and threw the biggest truck I could find. I wanted to crush some marble with my bare hands, but there was none handy. So throwing a car was the next best thing. I mean, I'm barely 5'3", carrying gigantic twin boys and have somehow, at 32 weeks, managed to maintain a cervix of some serious magnitude. What better way to celebrate than to throw a couple tons of metal around?

I must admit to you, I felt like all kinds of AWESOME after my cervix check.

And this is not to say that my friends who have shortening cervixes are not full of AWESOME too, it just my dumb luck really. Kind of like those of you who are 5'8" and never have to hem your pants. Nothing that you really deserve credit for, but damn, I can only imagine how amazing it would be to just go into Nord's and buy a pair of Sevens and be able to wear them that very day.

I can't remember if I've discussed my lovely itching problem with you yet, my bloggy friends, but oh my DEAR GOD it is bad. Poor Mr. K will come home from work and I'll be on the couch with my bare belly exposed, scratching like a FERAL CAT. He'll say to me "Um, babe, do you want some privacy while you do THAT?" And I'll be all "OMG, I am SO FREAKING ITCHY! LOOK! LOOK!" And Poor Mr. K will politely decline and excuse himself upstairs. Can't really say I blame him.

On the upside, my wonderful OB prescribed me some steroid cream and antihistamines that seem to be helping. Maybe my feral cat days are over or at least numbered? Oh and this will MAKE YOU LAUGH. I went to the pharmacy, prescriptions for relief clutched in my paw and when I went to pick them up, the cashier said I needed to have a consult with the pharmacist.

The pharmacist walked up the counter and looked over my prescriptions, looked at me and asked "So, are you still pregnant?"

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA!!!!

Now I've heard that you are never supposed to assume a woman is pregnant unless you actually SEE THE BABY CROWNING.

So if he was going by that rule, it was a safe question.

But one look at me and COME ON.

My friends ROCK

My favorite mom of twins and my best friend of 20 years, collaborated to throw me a shower. Now you all know I'm a fairly, hm...how can I put this in a way that doesn't make me sound like a perfectionist wench delicately, "particular" person but when it comes to other people making a fuss over me, I tend to say "just throw a bag of Doritos in a bowl and call it good." I love love love to throw parties and special events to honor people, I'm just not that good at putting the shoe on the other foot. It feels awkward, uncomfortable and a stresses me out a tiny bit. Those of you that know me IRL may be surprised by this admonition, but it's true peeps. MVK is not great at being fêted. (But please do note my mad 'circumflex' skills!)

However, I know my best friend and after forcing her to let me throw her a tiny little 'Sprinkle' last summer (just days after I found out I was pregnant but didn't yet know about Les Twinks) I knew my number was up.

I told them I didn't need anything, no gifts, nothing elaborate, I even begged my best friend not to mail out paper invites and just to do an Evite instead. When they asked me what my ideal shower would be, I said "to watch a chick flick and eat dessert!" They honored my wishes so beautifully but did cheat and put together a darling gift basket for me. How could I reprimand such utter cuteness?! And one of the best components of the basket? A lovely ribbon-tied scroll that contained a MONTH'S worth of dates and names of people who are going to bring us dinner after Les Twinks arrive. And they are all people that I like! Who I would not care if they came over and I was in yoga pants with a baby stuck to my b.oob! They thought of everything!

Upon arrival, I mentioned that I was hungry and my FMOT (favorite mom of twins) offered me a plate of lasagna and made me sit down before I could blink. Then she spread out all my favorite sappy chick flicks Oscar worthy movies and said "pick one!" Perfection does not begin to describe the scene.

We played one and only one non-cheesy game (that I totally rocked) involving pairing celebrity parents with their twin celebrity spawn. Let me tell you, my $79.99 annual subscription to US Weekly totally paid dividends! And because I'm supremely humble, I assure you I didn't say loudly "I TOTALLY KNOW THIS ONE! AND I CAN NAME THE DAD TOO, SUCKERS!" after each and every question. No siree, I sat there and calmly and quietly contemplated each answer in manner befitting a lady.

After I kicked total and complete ass the game was over, we popped in The Devil Wears Prada and ate copious amounts of popcorn, carmel corn and three different desserts. And you all know how I love me some dessert! It was a great evening and I loved celebrating with my sweet friends (and none of the sour ones)!

Thank you Liane (FMOT) and Jess (bestie) (and Shelly for coordinating the amazing meal calendar).

You make it abundantly true for me to say MY FRIENDS ROCK. XOXOXOXOXO

**POST EDIT**

Not sure why all my thought bubbles and captions are showing up so small and blurry, but it was my second attempt (the first resulted in GIANT pictures that only partially showed up) so I am throwing in the towel. Just *imagine* how witty they were if you could read them. :)

It's like origami

Despite my Asian heritage, profound love of order and straight lines, I have always royally sucked at origami.

So it came as no surprise to me when at the "Twins and MORE! Care for Multiple Newborns" class Mr. K and I recently attended, I basically failed the swaddling part. I mean seriously, failed. Again. I was never good at swaddling Piglet and I became so heavily reliant on the Miracle Blanket (aka swaddling for dummies) that I never honed the skill. Then of course as he got older and he kept escaping which I interpreted to mean that he was miserable in his straight-jacket, I just stopped swaddling all together.

Mr. K however, has always been a very good swaddler. He is also, by the way, a very good gift wrapper. Just sayin'. He was basically insufferable during class last weekend with his unsolicited input: "Now fold and pull tight. Tighter." and "no, no, you need to tuck that corner" and "it's too loose, the baby is totally going to escape" superior trash talking. And I was all "Who cares! We're going to use the Miracle Blankets again!"

But the truth is, I. CARE. A little.

I hate that he is so damn GOOD at this *one* task and I am so ridiculously BAD at it. Of course the instructor was all about letting us know how a good, solid swaddle is basically the difference between a screaming infant and a blissfully content infant.

So, Dante's Inferno or Nirvana, basically sealing my fate with the former.

Overall the class was great...and really terrifying. We were both just wrecked by the end of our five hour session on Saturday and staring down the barrel at another long session on Sunday. And remember, we already have one child, so none of this was really new to us. We even just brazenly skipped some parts, like the "how to give a baby a bath" part. We were all 'psssht, we do this every single night, we are all over this, suckers!' And that's when I sent Mr. K out to get me a Haagen Daz bar. The scary bits happened when the instructor had a couple with nine week-old boy/girl twins actually BRING THEM IN for part of the class. We all cooed and smiled nervously as our spouses got pale and tiny beads of sweat formed at our hairlines.

I mean, way to PUT THE FEAR OF GOD IN US.

Bring in real, live BABIES? Just like the ones we are going to have in less than eight weeks?! (six for moi) And parents who look really tired despite the fact that we know they have five nights a week of professional overnight doula help? And the mom isn't nursing, so they just, you know, HAND THE BABIES OVER to her and go to bed FIVE NIGHTS A WEEK?!

So just to recap because I'm sure your heads are spinning.

• Instructor/doula has couple bring in real babies
• babies are REAL
• instructor demonstrates simultaneous care of two babies
• couple sit there and look exhausted
• couple get eight consecutive hours of sleep, five nights a week while doula cares for babies
• couple look exhausted
• babies are not dolls, but REAL
• students sweaty, terrified

Now that is just blatant fear mongering.

There was the instructor, who incidentally, is also an amazing a professional doula and owns her own successful agency, one baby in the sling while simultaneously trying to change a diaper, find a binky, shush a baby, pick up the dropped binky, teach a class and not get peed on. I *know* that every person in the room was thinking "What kind of e.xperimental d.rug can I get from Mexico or China that will help me grow an extra set of arms so I can survive this?"

We're glad we took the time to go to the class...and weren't shy about getting a business card from the instructor!

As Strongblonde, one of my bloggy friends who has four month-old twins so aptly put it, "Twins are kinda scary." So true, so true.

Perhaps if I can just get better at origami...

Coming soon to a Piglet blog near you: baby shower post and a Prenatal Cradle tale -- the beast has arrived. Stay tuned!

*Note in the photos, how I go from happy to showing some trepidation to that "Hey, um, what?" expression. The photo of the instructor in the lower left corner? Yep, that's her with real live babies. Dems were real, peeps. Very real.

Who me? Oh really, you shouldn't have...

I honestly thought I would never get another blog award because I've been nominated for two different ones by fabulous bloggers Cartside and Sunny and (hanging head in shame) I have yet to complete one. I swear the blog entries are started, but I just get so caught up in the details of each that I get worn out and my head gets fuzzy and then I somehow find myself hitting "save now" instead of "publish post" and well that's how I came to believe that I would *never* receive another blog award!

That said, my newfound bloggy homie who clearly did not know of my failures in the blog award realm decided to nominate little old moi one more time. And because I'm awake due to a pubic symphysis flare up (prenatal cradle just arrived today, am working up the nerve to try it on, apparently the universe says I need to do that stat), I saw her generous nomination (Internets, she is a *famous* IF blogger! Everyone knows Meinsideout!).

The guidelines of this award require that I list seven 'interesting' facts about myself. So I'm going to try for interesting and not laborious but please don't hate me if they end up being the latter!

1. Mr. K and I met at a bookstore. In fact, it is the largest independent bookstore in the world. He likes to joke that he dragged me out of the self-help section. My husband, so witty.

2. At Mr. K's company party back in 2005, I sat down with a fortune teller and asked her the age-old question 'How many children will I have?' She sat there, admired my "very deep and long life line," smirked and said "It won't happen right away, in fact it might take a year or two, but you will have two children very close together." To which I responded "Oh good, I've always wanted to have children close in age." To which she rebutted "No, I mean closer than that. I mean TWINS." So when we were going through our IF crap that is harder than anything else I have endured in my life journey, I was convinced that when it finally worked, we'd be pregnant with twins. Then when we found out we had only one strong little piggie, I laughed at my own naivety and wrote off the whole twins prediction.

Who's laughing now?

3. I am a very clean, neat person by nature. I love order. I won't eat in a place that seems unsanitary. I blame my mother. However, after I married Mr. K who isn't dirty persay, but very messy and a big fan of leaving random crap everywhere, I eased up a little on the neat part. I still need things to be clean though. Then after Piglet arrived, I basically let things go even more. My house is still pretty clean and I pick up the house before anyone, even our beloved nanny comes over, so I'm still hanging on, if only by a thread!

4. I'm an Apple convert. I used to be a strictly N.okia phone, PC/Windows loving woman. A few months before Piglet was born and despite my protestations that I didn't need "that much phone" Mr. K surprised me by just going out and getting me the iPhone (First Generation, baby!). I was tentative but slowly started to see the light. Then as one of my "push presents" he got me a MacBook. It was shiny and white and while I had a hard time adjusting to some of the Mac-isms, I was hooked on the ease and intuitive nature of my new laptop. Fast forward two years and an upgrade to a shiny silver MacBook Pro later, I am a full-fledged convert. Mr. K and I now have approximately ten Apple devices between us and when the iPad makes its way to the shelves, you can make that 12. The day they announced the iPad, Mr. K was texting me excitedly "10 mins until iPad announcement!" Yes, it's true. We worship at the church of Apple. It's sad.

5. My friend Rebecca, who I affectionately refer to as my BFF in Atlanta, is one of my favorite people in the WORLD. She doesn't blog or I would link you there. Instead, we leave voicemails. And they are EPIC. And hilarious. Seriously, sometimes we start cracking up so hard while leaving voicemails that we snort. Sometimes we sing our voicemails to each other to the tune of Beethoven concertos. We confess our "bad mommy" moments to each other. I'm going to stop here before you think we are totally insane. Plus I can't go telling all our secrets. Oh wait, maybe just one more. We have never met in person; we met *gasp!* ON-FRICKIN-LINE on a due date message board when we were pregnant with our first little ones. But our friendship which has spanned three years and countless phone conversations and hilarious voicemails has proven that it's the real McCoy. Someday, when we are not bribing our boys with candy to let us change their diapers, we are going to go on a grand vacation together where we stay at the F.our Seasons and eat bonbons. Someday. I know this because she left me a voicemail about it.

6. I love all things Jane Austen. Six hours of the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice? Masterpiece Classics version of Emma? Colin Firth strutting out of the lake in what can only be categorized as a mid-century wet t-shirt contest? Please pass the crumpets and keep hitting rewind because I am never leaving this couch.

7. This is going to annoy you. And I am sorry. Because it's annoying to hear. But I'm going to say it anyway. I love my life. I love my husband. I love my children. Nothing is perfect, but it's pretty damn close and I count my blessings every single day.

WHEW. I hope reading all these "interesting" facts about me wasn't too tedious. They are kind of long...see what I mean? I wouldn't blame you if you skimmed through them. I got stuck there around #5, but I powered through. What a relief to have finally *earned* a blogger award! Thanks again to Meinsideout for nominating me! Third time's the charm. :)

P.S. - Cameron, to answer your question, yes Rebecca and I do actually talk to each other in real-time but with the three-hour time difference, traveling husbands and toddlers to chase, sometimes voicemails are the only way we can communicate!

My wife, my calf

During my most recent two dr. appointments, I've logged two weight losses. Two pounds each visit for a total of four pounds.

Mr. K who is just NOW reading this book by Dr. Barbara Luke (after months of listening to me say "You know, Dr. Barbara Luke says I should be taking a nap right now instead of helping you decide where to put things in the garage) has now decided that his main mission in life is to make me his own personal fatted calf. Seriously, he is getting Biblical with his obsession.

Whenever I call him after an OB or MFMS visit, his first question is "How's your weight?"

So you can imagine how happy he was to hear that I had lost yet another two pounds.

I swear it was the defeated sigh that could be heard across the 3G network land.

Clearly I am no waif and I am not wasting away, but as you all know I was pretty sick for the first, oh, I don't know MERE SEVEN MONTHS of this pregnancy and if I don't take my two Zo.friends a day, I still get sick, so food has been difficult for me. That said, I really do need to eat a little more. But not as much as Mr. K (or Dr. Barbara Luke) would have me consume.

You see, Mr. K believes that if I don't gain enough weight, it will somehow retard the development of our wee babes. Which is true to an extent, except that every single level II ultrasound I've had has shown that the Twinks are growing steadily and are very healthy weights. They always fall somewhere in the 60-80% so I have never been worried and neither have my docs. Mr. K however is a different story.

So now every single day he asks me what I want to eat...not just at that moment or for dinner in a few hours, but for several days.

For instance, on Thursday, I will get: "Do you want Chili Verde for dinner on Saturday?"

And on Tuesday I will get: "Do you want bacon for breakfast (in three days)?"

Plus he's constantly trying to lace my food with protein powder. Then when I discover the foul tasting stuff we get into the "just have one more bite" debate. I swear he has reduced me to being three years old with his antics.

It does have its benefits though. Mr. K will basically bring me anything that suits my whim as long it is high in protein or calories. Most times.

Lately I have been craving a lot of frozen yogurt from a place called SkinniDip. When I asked him to stop and get me some on his way home, he replied "Babe, I don't think that stuff has enough calories. You don't need SkinniDip, what YOU need is FATDip."

I'm pretty sure no place called FatDip would bring in a lot of customers (except perhaps husbands of women pregnant with multiples) but the suggestion alone did illicit a giggle from me. Well played, Mr. K, well played.

29 weeks

At my shower last weekend (newsy post and pictures to follow) my friends said I don't post enough pictures of my belly. My response?

"Nobody wants to see my belly!"

Their response?

"Yes we do!"

Then this week in one of our epic voicemails to each other, my BFF in Hotlanta said something along the same lines..."Dude! I want to see your belly! Send me a pic!"

So I guess the masses have spoken.

Here is my ever growing belly.

Are you scared?

Do you need me to come hold you?

Because I would, except that there's a bit of a hindrance.

I think the shirt makes it look bigger because you can't really see where the curve of my stomach ends (it's a bit more basketball like, I'll post another picture wearing a tighter shirt), but you get the idea. And the idea is that my belly is gigantic and dwarfs everything and everyone growing.

Despite my second official weight loss in a row (sore subject with Mr. K also to be elaborated upon in an upcoming post), it would appear that Les Twinks are growing by leaps and bounds. They are approximately a combined 7lbs, which means I'm carrying the equivalent of one full-term baby right now.

By the way, they could feasibly arrive safely anywhere between FIVE AND SEVEN WEEKS from now. Wrap your head around THAT, people. Do it for me.

Because I really...can't.

And right before Valentine's Day

Today I went in for my bi-weekly appointment at the Maternal Fetal Medicine Specialist's office. As per usual, I packed myself a snack and my knitting in preparation for a three-four hour visit. I'm a veteran, they know me there now despite seeing a large number of patients for various reasons (CVS and amnio screenings and varying degrees of high risk pregnancies).

I'd started feeling very anxious about this visit because the last time I'd been in, they'd seen Baby B's arrhythmia for the first time. I let my mind wander to bleak places, considering what I would do if they discovered that it had gotten worse or if Baby A had now developed something worrisome too. It always seems that whenever I let my guard down, something comes up and smacks me in the face -- with an open hand no less. So I braced myself just in case of more bad news.

And I did get some bad news.

Depending on how you look at things.

My MFMS, Dr. Silver Fox, upon reviewing my ultrasound and other labs delivered some news that sent me reeling momentarily.

He knocked on the door, walked in the room and said "See Ya!"

I was all "What? Really?!"

And he was all "My dear, your cervix is absolutely astonishing, most women with only half a baby in them don't have a cervix like yours. It's 3.9cm!"

And I was all "Nah-uh..."

And he was all "Yes and also Baby B's arrhythmia seems to be less distinct, which means it's a (insert medical jargon that I am too lazy to Wikipedia for you) that's going to come and go into his teenage years. It is the mildest of all types of arrhythmias."

And I was all "Dude. Are you BREAKING UP WITH ME???"

And he was all "I knew you were a special patient within two minutes of meeting you and marked your file as MFP within five. You will be sorely missed, but my work here is done, you are doing beautifully, so yes, we are breaking up." (In case you were wondering, MFP stands for 'most favored patient.' I am so not kidding you. What is there not to love about this man? Did I mention he speaks four languages and was recently named the top MFMS in the state?)

So we said our goodbyes and he said he wanted to stay friends and would I please send him pictures of the Twinks after they arrived and then we hugged one last time and I left. I walked right by the scheduling desk and into the elevator like some kind of normal pregnant woman.

I'll admit, I'm sad that Dr. F and I broke up, but really it's for the best since I already have four men (not counting the Dreamster) in my line up. Good thing my OB is a woman.

In other exciting pregnancy news, I have developed pubic symphasis and it is all kinds of awesome. The advent of this development means that I also just ordered THIS. Go on. Click on the link...I'll wait.

Tell me, is it dead sexy, or WHAT.

I mean, I might as well wear a sign that says "You know you want a piece."

The nurse at Dr. Fox's office and I were cracking ourselves up talking about it and the multiple uses it could have after I'm done with it. She and I also have a little wager about whether or not it will sell on Craigs.list. Bahahahahaha. I can see the ad title now "Gently Used Prenatal Cradle" cross referenced with "sporting goods/used female jock strap."

I just cannot *wait* to see the spam comments I get from this post!