Say cheese!

I know, I know. I've been a little stingy with the photos lately.

Everytime I write a blog entry with just one photo or (gasp) no pictures, I can feel you all getting a little more disgruntled. A little more disappointed. As if to say "You never write, you never call and now you don't even post pictures of the Piglets! I'm going to hit 'unfollow!' Don't think I won't!"

So to make up for my recent lack of photos. I am sharing with you here (and not even on Facebook yet) a photo from our most recent holiday shoot. We usually go the casual jeans and bare feet route, but this time I wanted something spiffier.

Something that required me to wear pearls.

And ties for Piglet and Mr. K.

And perhaps a little hairspray for the Twinks.

And here is the result.

I know it's still only ONE picture (and I still owe you a couple of twin tigers and a fighter pilot from Halloween) but LOOK! We got all gussied up *just* for you!

And also for the 150 people on our Christmas card list.

Yes. Really. 150. Better go start addressing envelopes!

P.S. I know I shouldn't draw attention to it, but you might notice the scars on my leg (that I haven't had my photographer touch up yet). Those are from my feral-cat-scratching days. Remember those? It's been eight months and they still linger. Seriously.

P.P.S. If you are my FB friend and would like to be added to my Christmas card list, just let send me a message!

I'm baaaaaaaack!

Miss me?

Did you??

Did you?!

(I know that *some* special people did because they keep leaving "comments" in Chinese and passing on interesting links.)

Anyway, I missed you all. A whole LOT.

I have a list of excuses as long as my last receipt from Target, but would you believe the most compelling one has nothing to do with Piglet or the Twinks? In fact, it has to do with Mr. K and his (failed! gasp!) attempts to replace my hard drive.

Replace my hard drive. (giggle giggle snicker)

It seems that my MacBook Pro was low on space and it should've been an easy fix. But, OMIHOLYLORD. It was *quite* the ordeal. One ding to my clamshell and FIVE WEEKS later, I finally got my MacBook back. I learned me a very valuable lesson. If you get some sort of message saying that you might be low on disk space due to blahblahblahblahwahwahwahwahblahblah, DO NOT. I repeat, DO NOT read the message to your nerdy, husband who has OCD tendencies about these things unless you intend to relinquish your computer for weeks on end and live with a cranky, frustrated spouse. Don't get me wrong, I know I am lucky to have a nerd at my beck and call and now my MBP is lightening fast and I can store as many damn videos and pictures as I please. I am very grateful.

BUT -- damn, that took for-freaking-ever. And a blogger needs her 'puter.

JUST SAYING.

A short update on we folks here at Maison Piglets. The Twinks are fast-approaching six months! SIX! And they are getting fatter than ever, tipping the scales at nearly 17lbs apiece. Piglet is almost completely potty trained! As in, wears days of the week undies and runs around the house bellowing "I go pee pee! I go pee pee NOW!" I swear, when we are home, the child is naked from the waist down for approximately 77% of the day. It's become clear that THE accessory to have at our house is a pen.is. And if that's true, I am completely out of luck because I don't think J.Crew got those in their last shipment. Same goes for Nordstrom. Maybe I should look online?

Anyway, our summer flew by and culminated with a one week vacation to the beach with my family. What we learned is that there will not be any "vacations" for us for approximately 9.5 more years. At least. Going on "vacation" right now just basically means that we are relocating the hamster wheel and its accoutrements elsewhere.

I will now pause so that you can all get a good, clear mental picture of Mr. K and me running on a giant hamster wheel, wood chips flying, our three piglets cracking the whip whenever we stop to catch our breath.

Got it?

Anyway...seriously.

Being away from the comfort and convenience of our home was a total nightmare special challenge. From packing up all our crap to then trying to jam it into our car to the two hour (in traffic) car ride there, it was so challenging and exhausting and I would just as soon stay home and look at a freaking postcard while listening to some New Agey ocean sounds on CD.

What we learned is that raising twins and a two year-old is unbelievably difficult. And traveling? Forget it. At least for awhile.

(Insert diatribe about how I'm "not complaining" and I know "how lucky" we are, how I "never take my children for granted.") I could write it all out again, but do you really want to hear it?

Really?

Reeeeeally?

I don't believe you!

But rest assured it's what's in my heart. I love my kids and family but, in the words of Mr. K, "I'll be a monkey's uncle" if this isn't the most stressful, exhausting time of our lives.

To make up for being silent so long, and to give you and idea of what we've been up to, I compiled the following snapshots from the past two (hang head in shame) months just for you. Where words fail, photos speak. And where photos fail, you can fill in the blanks!

Enjoy.

Oh how I've missed you my bloggy friends, I'm so excited to be back!

Milking it

You knew this was coming. So many of you commented about the milk picture that I thought I should dedicate a short entry just to this subject.

To Gabby who wondered if I'm taking Domperidone to increase my milk supply: would you believe the answer is no? No Reglan either. Or Fenugreek. Or Mother's Milk Tea!

I do, however take a daily dose of Starbucks which I chase with an every-other-day dose of booze. :) Whatever it takes, right?

In all seriousness, I do feel *extremely* fortunate to have a milk supply that can support two giant, growing babies. There's a certain sense of pride that comes with looking at two babies who are all rolls and dimples and knowing I made it so. My inner dialogue usually goes something like this: I DID THAT! MADE THEM FAT! That roll over there? ME! Those three rolls down below? ME TOO! Those dimples everywhere? ALL MOI! SQUEE!

I also sometimes think this when I look at myself too closely. Though it's with much less triumph and I usually pass the blame to Haagen Daz. Damn them!

When Piglet was a baby, I would literally drown him in milk. Poor thing. It was always too much, my body just couldn't help itself! And now I know why my body did this -- in preparation for Les Twinks. See? EVERY PART OF ME IS A PLANNER.

EVERY.

PART.

If you weren't convinced of that before, you should be now.

It's real and it's deep, people.

REAL and DEEP.

I do have to send a shout-out to all nursing, pumping moms. Even when you make a lot of milk and under the best of conditions, this crap is hard. Yes, sometimes it's serene and sweet but it can also be grueling. It takes serious dedication and commitment and I salute you. I am with you in the trenches every day!

Coming soon to a blog near you, "My doula, my dealer" in HD.

But in the meantime, here are some recent pictures to whet your palate. (Apologies for the use of the word "whet," have been watching period movies again!)

P.S. Yes, I really *am* doing what you think I'm doing in that picture. Dude. You KNOW I'm a multi-tasker!

OH EM BEE.

OH. MY. BLOG.

I did it again! I made you feel unloved and abandoned!

I'm sad.

I'm ashamed!

I'm sorry.

Aaaannnnd, I was maybe a little busy.

Sometimes while I'm sitting at a red light, I find myself daydreaming about blog entries. Of course, frequently, by the time I get in front of my laptop (which is usually hours later), the blog entry idea is gone.

POOF!

Not to be mistaken for POOP! which also occurs frequently.

What I really need to do is use the memo recorder app on my iPhone to remedy this problem. I just can't bring myself to do it though because I feel like Piglet would be in the back seat in his furry throne car seat thinking "Wow, my mom's kind of a tool."

Anyway, even though not all of them made it out of the ol' thinking cap, here are some the the headlines that survived:

He pooped!

I survived!

Bags.

Loved ones.

Chubba bubba.

Party house.

My doula, my dealer.

Vice and make it a double.

More from Mr. K

Eat, Play, Sleep (newly added!)

If any of these catch your fancy (please forgive, as I only have boys, I need to flagrantly use the word 'fancy' as much as possible), leave me a comment and tell me which ones. Based on popularity (because pssht, popularity is *everything*), I'll write my next blog entry.

For now, where words fail, pictures speak.

Here's a glimpse into life at Maison Piglet over the past month.

Enjoy.

Oh WHOOPS! How did that picture of Mr. K's arse, butt, BOTTOM get in there?

And yes, that moo juice? It's from one session. And dems 10oz bottles.

YOU HEARD ME.

Two months in...

The Twinks are over two months old now. TWO. MONTHS. OLD.

Wait.

What?

You may or may not have noticed my two plus week absence. If you follow me (which means you are AWESOME) you probably noticed. And if you don't follow me but are a reader, (you are also awesome but not quite as awesome) you probably didn't. :) Meghan, who is AWESOME, noticed and delivered the proverbial kick in the arse, butt, BOTTOM I needed.

(Aaaaaaannnnnnnd there. I am officially a parent. In case you are wondering, I also spell out words I don't want my kids to understand.)

Anyway, the Twinks have officially "woken up." This means that they are now painfully aware of any type of discomfort.

"Ohhhh my bellllllllyyyyyyy hurrrrrrts!"

"I'm not being helllllllld!!!!!"

"You ate too much Mexicaaaaaaan!"

"I need to poooooooooop!!!!"

This also means that they are so much more demanding than they were even just ONE week ago. There are days I swear they are plotting my destruction. Add Piglet and his oh-so-very-twoness to the mix and I am a crazy woman.

Correction.

I am a craziER woman.

In an effort not to mislead, I do have help. Our lovely Urban Outfitters-Toms-Joe's Jeans-wearing nanny, Lisa, upgraded her status to full-time for the summer and I am so grateful. When she arrives each morning, she's usually greeted by this:

• Me, wild-eyed in spit-up stained shirt and PJ pants, holding a baby while eating eggs directly out of the pan.


• PJ clad Piglet running rampant saying "Bye bye Eesha! Bye bye! No, no Eesha!"


• Other baby crying in bouncy seat, swing or sling.

GOOD MORNING!!! WELCOME BACK!!! PLEASE PUT SOME PANTS ON PIGLET!!!

Poor Lisa.

Poor awesome Lisa. Who is sometimes so very awesome that I send her to the liquor store for Mojito fixings before she leaves for the day.

What?!

It's good for my milk.

Wait.

That's beer.

Oh well, I've sent her to the store for that too.

(Note to self: When hiring nannies in the future, be sure they are 21 and up.)

Anyway, while the days are long, the years are short and time is FLYING by at Maison Piglets. It's been bittersweet to see my Twinks trade in their wrinkly legs for chubby rolls and triple chins. Piglet is speaking in complete sentences and talking about things we didn't think he even noticed. Everybody's growing up. Even MOI.

One of my regular indulgences has always been getting pedicures. I love having pretty painted toes. I abhor the exercise of removing and applying nail polish.

The story goes like this: (ample) nail salons => meet MVK, they fall in love. Their affair spans many years.

Except now, being outnumbered by children means I rarely, if ever, go anywhere without at least one kiddo. And if I do, it's somewhere with Mr. K, who's not so big into the pedicure scene. So my dilemma is this: walk around with ghetto toes or grow up and crack open the acetone.

Crap.

In the end, vanity wins. Please pass the cotton balls.


Wait. How did this blog entry lead to me talking about feet?!

Anyway, we are hanging in there, even if it's just barely. The Twinks are wonderful, demanding and already starting to show their distinct personalities. Peeper (P) has this pathetic cry that is part whine, part gasp and is hilarious. It's as though he's saying "Oh I'm sooooooooo sad! I'm just miserable! I might not make it another second!" And Giant (G) does this thing where he makes a sound like he's choking before letting out a full-on wail. Often they do it in unison and it's a baby crying symphony over here.

Speaking of symphonies. Mr. K has taken up the guitar. He's self-teaching through the MIRACLE of the internet. Many of our recent conversations go something like this:

Me: Babe. Babe. BABE! What are you doing? Have you changed the babies yet? Have you taken a shower? We have to go soon!

Mr. K: I'm soothing the babies with my gentle strumming! (continues "strumming" Edelweiss)

Me: I think you mean you are killing me softly.

Mr. K: I'm sorry you can't appreciate my ART.

Me: I would appreciate it a lot more if you didn't practice it right when we have to be somewhere.

Mr. K: But doesn't it DELIGHT you?

Me: Sure, Captain Von Trapp, sure. Now go put the babies in their car seats.

So that's a snap shot into life at Maison Piglets right now. We are having fun, laughing and being our usual entertaining selves.

Sorry I was away so long. I've had my hands full. Oh and of course I had all those SHOWERS to take. And thanks again Meghan for asking me to come back. I love feeling lurved.

And last but not least -- pictures.

In case you're all wondering why there's a picture of Mr. K's arse, butt, BOTTOM (there I go again) included, it's because I want to share all the highlights from the past few weeks.

And that included Mr. K in his new "A" pocket Seven jeans.

To think that when I met him, he was wearing ripped, light-wash Gap jeans from 1992 (and sadly, it was 2002).

You've come a long way, baby.

We all have.

1+2 vs 2+1

First off, thank you to the lurkers who took pity on me and hit 'follow' after my sad cry for help last post! And thanks also to my long-time readers who did the same because they had me in their Google readers but weren't followers. You made my day! Piglet sends you a big, wet kiss.

Back to business...

When I found out I was pregnant with twins, I found myself wishing that we could've done this in reverse - twins first and then a singleton. (A chorus of "beggars can't be choosers" just rang through my head.) I'd heard from so many twin parents that had had another child later, that their singleton was *so* easy in comparison to their twins and it would've been so much harder to have one and then add twins to the mix. I know they didn't mean to scare me, but I'll admit, it was intimidating to say the least. Piglet was not an easy baby and the thought of adding two more demanding shriekers to our just-starting-to-quiet-down home left me shaking in my ballet flats.

Don't even *ask* how Mr. K was coping with the the pending reality. Twasn't pretty.

But now that the Twinks have been here over a month, I can honestly say that while I'm probably in the minority, I am so glad that we had Piglet first and then added the Twinks to the pen. I'm sure you're all scratching your heads and wondering why.

I'll tell you why.

Are you sitting down?

Do you have a glass of water nearby?

Because I don't want you to start feeling faint from the forthcoming admission.

Ready?

Steady?

Here goes: I'm glad I had one plus two instead of two plus one because...

I'm a leetle on the ocd, high strung end of the spectrum when it comes to parenting. There. I said it. Having said that. caring for twins AND being a first time mom is likely to have turned me into a total NUTTER.

I know this is completely shocking to you all.

Who ME? High strung? Picky? Still puts onesies under my two year-old's tee shirts because I'm worried he'll catch a draft?!

*I* would've been a big dose of CRAZY if I'd had twins first?

No, really.

Shocking.

I know.

Now take a sip of water. You'll feel better.

Anyway, I had a realization last week as I solo parented the trio. G was on the changing table getting not only a diaper swap but a complete wardrobe change too. Piglet was running circles around me and demanding more juice, while P (who was fed, clean and swaddled) in the bouncey seat started crying the loudest most frenetic cry I'd ever heard from him. Wah! Wah! Wah! Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Now had I been a rookie, being there, in the eye of the storm, might have rattled me.

But instead I just started laughing while assuring P that I'd be there in just a minute, that he was just fine.

And you have to admit, laughing is better than crying.

Because crying usually ruins your makeup.

That is, if you're wearing makeup.

Which I was not.

(Those of you that know me well may need to take another sip of water at this point.)

So I laughed a little while my child screamed his head off.

Damn, that sounds worse than it was. (I'm a MONSTER!!!)

In fact, it wasn't bad at all. It was just 48.9 seconds of screaming for P before all was right in his world again.

It didn't bother me in the least. I wasn't rattled, I wasn't stressed. I was just finishing taking care of one baby after another.

No worries at all, everything was fine!

(Who IS this person?)

Forget the water, have some vodka.

The diaper that was asked to do too much.

With three little piggies in the house, you can imagine how many diapers we go through in a day. And sometimes, because we are unaware or think the other person has already changed it, we let Piglet's diaper get a little (or a lot) too wet. Then one morning last weekend, Mr. K yelled down to me that Piglet needed new sheets on his bed. "Did you let him run around naked again?" I asked, "not mad, just curious."

"Nope, but he had two sippy cups of juice and I haven't changed his diaper since last night."

Oh for SHAME.

And as Mr. K removed last night's diaper, I heard him say "And here is the diaper that was asked to do too much." Hilarious.

And sometimes I feel like that diaper is a metaphor for me and my life. Except in my world, pee isn't the only burden I carry. Oh Pampers, you got off so easy this time, you have no idea!

But you know what? I asked for this. I prayed on my hands and knees for this. And I am not complaining. But you must admit, I AM kind of like that diaper!

Newborn twins. Check!

Demanding toddler. Check!

Traveling husband. Check!

OCD tendencies in relation to housekeeping, childcare and appearance. Check, check, check!

Though I have let that last one, "appearance" go -- better me than my babes.

Did you see that?

The subtle martyrdom that was implied just now?

Oh, I am SO officially a MOTHER.

Anyway, on to more important business...

The Twinks are thriving and doing so well. In the spirit of my original reason for blogging, here is their one month update.

Weights:

P-Babe (baby A) 6lbs12oz, birth weight was 5lbs9oz

G-Bear (baby B) 7lbs9oz, birth weight was 5lbs13oz

They gained 1.4 lbs each in the ten days from one dr. appointment to the next. W00t!

The Twinks LOVE

• being held
• having their backs patted (especially G)
• their binks, which is interesting since their big brother never really did
• getting their hair washed, G is more tranquil about it while P will sometimes get impatient
• snuggling close with their heads together, usually P puts his head on G's shoulder, it is impossibly cute

The Twinks are OVER

• loose swaddles, they are Houdinis and so I've been forced work on my origami skills
• sleeping all the time, they are awake and alert for several hours of the day
• burping, because spitting up all over mom's freshly washed coif is so much more satisfying

And that about sums it up. Dude, what do you expect, they're only a month old. But, it'll get more exciting, I promise. By their two month update, I am sure they'll have gotten their 12x tables memorized. (Do kids still memorize their Xs tables?)

Sorry for the boring post but since I am a consummate loser with their baby books (same with Piglet's), this is only place I record stats!

So now I'll put you out of your boring blog post reading misery and post some more PICTURES!

Can I get an AMEN?

Word.

And now you know their names...but don't let it go to your head.

P.S. - I have 39 followers, nothing to write home about, but still, my small army is very meaningful to me! However, the fact that 39 is not an even number is making me a Nutburger (as D.ooce's husband would say). So if you're lurking and have even the tiniest inclination to follow my humble blog abode, help me back away from the ledge and hit FOLLOW! Thanks, dude.

***Post Edit***

A couple things - I was moderating comments from my iPhone and my ham hands accidentally checked "reject" instead of "publish" so if you don't see your comment (Vaso and someone else) thanks for commenting and I'm sorry I accidentally rejected it!

And second, thanks so much for getting me out of my follower slump! Fist pump! You do realize though, that now I am going to obsess until I reach 50 nifty. ;)