In Memoriam

We lost Remy much more quickly than we had expected. She survived her surgery, but the tumors had spread extensively. Within two weeks, they caught up with her again, and we had to make the ultimate sacrifice. 

That day we planted a tree for Remy in the front yard. It's a purple crepe myrtle, sure to do well in our Southern heat and pretty enough to help us remember our pretty girl. I put it on the corner of our lot, so that Larry can see it and imagine her resounding "Daddy Bark" every time he comes home. 

 

Ren watering Remy's tree.

I also ordered an engraved brick to mark the tree. We are getting her ashes back later today, and we'll place some of them under the brick so that she is always guarding her pack. 

SOUTH CAROLINA—Remy, formerly of James Island, passed away at Animal Care Clinic on Wednesday, June 27, 2012. She was 12.

Born on March 12, 2000, Remy worked for six years as an expert duck hunter and retriever before retiring to our island. In her retirement, she enjoyed swimming in the creeks, gigging for flounder, and playing ball in the front yard. In 2011 she began a new career as a vacuum cleaner, monitoring the carpet around the highchairs for spills, tipped plates, and free handouts. She had more puppy in her at twelve than most dogs do at six months.

She is survived by her father, Larry, whom she served as a loyal companion and friend her entire life. He witnessed her first breath and her last, welcoming her to this world and guiding her out of it. Remy is also survived by her adopted mother, Vicki, brothers Ren and Gray, and animal siblings Jud, Izzy, and Bootsie. She will be forever missed.

Cremation has taken place. In lieu of flowers, please throw a tennis ball to your pup today.

We love you, Remy.

Remy swimming in the creek, 2010. Happiness is a dog and a boat.

Dog Tired

My step-daughter is a 12 year old Labrador retriever named Remy. She came with Larry, just as I came with Jud. It's a common occurrence in these after-30 relationships; when we don't find our spouses in our 20s, we get a dog to keep us company on lonely nights. When we do finally meet the one, we end up in a house full of dogs, which is okay when it's just "us." But once we add a baby (or two) to the mix, the dogs can become unwelcome burdens rather than cherished step-children. And I must admit, there have been days I've dreamt of a Remy-less (and Jud-less, Izzy-less, and Bootsie-less) home.

Remy protecting a 2-month old Gray.

When the boys were newborns, we'd lay them on the floor. Remy would see a passing neighbor or the UPS man and carelessly bound to the window to to attack, never stopping to think about the infants in her path. The panic I felt as I saw a 70 pound beast bounding toward my 5 pound baby was indescribable, and surprisingly (and infuriatingly) not shared by Larry. He trusted her. I did not. But after one near miss, I started locking Remy up during their floor playtime.

Then there was the hair. Virginia describes the endless supply of lab hair as "little pieces of love"; I'd call it as "little pieces of filth." It's on their clothes, their sippy cups, their dinner plates, everywhere. I could probably crochet a sweater for both boys with all the dog hair they have swallowed. So gross.

But not as gross as this last story, one that I have a hard time admitting, but one I must put on paper (or in this case computer screen) in order to finally deal with it. Two weeks ago, Remy was in the playroom with the boys while I cleaned up their dinner mess. When I turned around, Ren threw a brown ball at me. "What toy is that?" I wondered. "We don't have a brown ball." Then I looked more closely. Oh yes. Yes, it was. My son was throwing a Remy turd. And there was more on the floor that Gray was running for. I choked down my own dinner that threatened to come back up, grabbed both boys, and ran outside. I scrubbed them for five minutes, trying to erase the image from my mind in the process. I wanted to kill Remy. I probably would have if I had gotten my hands on her. But it turns out, cancer was already in the process of taking care of that for me.

A tumor had been growing in her belly for the last month, causing bad breath and loss of bowel control. It wasn't her fault. When we finally got around to getting her into the vet, it was almost too late to do anything. But two days and $3000 later, the tumor was removed. The diagnosis, however, is grim. It has metastasized to the liver, indicating that it is cancerous, and that we are on borrowed time with our girl Remy.

Suddenly the thought of my boys growing up without Remy saddens me. They won't know that they fed her from their high chairs. They won't remember her exuberance or her little pieces of love or the way that she laid next to my bed every night when I was pregnant. They won't know that Remy immediately accepted them into her pack and protected them from guests, neighbors, and even the menacing mailman. They will never see their daddy at his tenderest, when he sits with his dog and loves his little "piglet." Suddenly I know how much this family is going to miss its girl.

Our first kids.

Two is for Twins

The teacher that I am, I've made little "bulletin boards" in the boys playroom. We have shapes, colors, and numbers on the walls, and both boys love to spend time pointing at each item and saying its name. For some reason, they are fascinated by numbers, especially the number 5. When we walk through the neighborhood, they actively search out mailboxes with the number 5 and often insist that other numbers are actually the number 5.

"Fie!" Ren will yell, pointing at a 9.

"No, baby, that's a nine."

"No, no, no nine. Fie!" Grayden will agree.

They know other numbers and can identify them when asked, but they just really like the number 5. Ren is so obsessed that he studies my Michigan State t-shirts, insisting that the "S" is a 5. The varsity font looks a little like a 5 so I just agree and say, "Yes, son, it is a 5!" Larry and I have started to wonder if he's figured out that he is Lawrence V. 

Anyway, I have counted to three every time I turn on their nursery light since they were born. It gives them a sort of warning to close their eyes in order to adjust to the light from a dark to bright room.So I was excited yesterday on our bike ride when I heard Ren start counting behind me in the bike trailer. "One, two, three!" he said triumphantly.

Then it was followed repeatedly  by "One, two, three, five!"

Three beach babes.

Calling All Inventors

For the last 19 months, I've been pestering my father to invent a device to make grocery shopping easier for twin moms and Irish twin moms. Whether it was a fold-up cart or universal basket system that attached to strollers, there had to be a better way than pushing a stroller and pulling a cart.

Thankfully, the Christners were listening. Parents of twins themselves, they faced the same dilemma, but rather than waiting for someone else to invent a product, they actually did it. The Buggy Bench is an attachable seat that sits right in the holding area of the cart. Check out my boys on their first Buggy Bench ride:

It's not perfect; Ren found that he could stand up, and he often did, but he was strapped into the seat so that kept him from moving around while he stood. And there is still limited storage space under Ren, but it's more than I had with a stroller alone and more convenient than creating the stroller-cart train. Overall, I am very satisfied with my Buggy Bench and would highly recommend it to moms with younger twins.

Twinstances

As a new twin mom, I envisioned the day when Ren and Grayden would suddenly notice each other. There were some special twin moments from their infancy---such as when they grabbed hands for their first shots in the hospital---but it's likely these moments were random, unplanned acts, and not the "twinstances" I wanted them to be. Even when the boys started sitting up, they barely seemed to notice their womb-mate sitting on the blanket with them. I've read countless online message posts from moms of 6-month old twins asking "When will they finally interact?"

The answer to that, if their babies are anything like mine, is any minute now. By seven months, it was clear that Ren and Gray knew the other existed. And once Ren could crawl, he was drawn to his immobile brother. It was so exciting to witness their awareness of each other, to realize that we truly did give them a permanent playmate. As they grow, we celebrate each child's individual accomplishments, but we also mark their moments of twin-ness. When Grayden pats Ren on the head when meeting strangers or when Ren asks for "more, more, more" crackers, holding out both his and Grayden's cracker bowls. There is something so special about these moments. I've captured a few to share over the last year.

7 Months: Smiling

 

10 Months: Wrestling

16 Months: Head Butting

18 Months: Feeding

19 Months: Head Massaging

Missing from these files is a video of their hysterical laughter. It only happens when they're alone, so I have no idea what they are laughing at. When I try to sneak in with the video camera, they stop. But I will catch it one of these days and add it to the post.

The Green-Nosed Monster

Grayden has a new fascination: shoving food particles up his nose.

We haven't gone to the doctor yet for this particular affliction, but we probably should have. On three occasions, I've had to hold him down, shine a flash light up his nose, and extract some foreign body from high up in his nasal cavity with tweezers. The first instance was a yellow pea---yellow because we hadn't had peas in the three days prior to me finding it in his nose. The second incident was a sliver of a green bean, and the third a very soggy cheerio.

I cannot understand what compels him to place food up his nose. Or worse, what compels him to eat that same food item moments later.

Yep, that's the same green bean.

Of course, this is the same kid who frequently wears a bucket on his head.

Family Parking Spaces: Safety in Parking Lots for Stroller-Bound Children

When I was learning to drive, I clearly remember my mother telling me "Parking lots are free-for-alls. You have to be defensive and ready for anything." And while I've made it 20 some years without an accident in a parking lot (although the same cannot be said for my car---never lend your car to friends and coworkers), those words have haunted me since taking the boys on their first outing to the store.

Let's examine how the mother of a singleton navigates a parking lot. If she has one child---say an infant---she unsnaps the infant seat, carries in into the store, and places it in a shopping cart. If she has a toddler, she takes him out of the car seat, carries him into the store, and places him in a shopping cart. If she has two children, one a toddler and the other 4 or 5 years old, she carries the toddler while holding the hand of the older child. A little more difficult, but still quite do-able. If she's lucky, she stumbles on a cart before even reaching the store, placing the toddler in the seat and the older child in the basket.

Now let's look at a mother of twins. Take me for instance. When we go to the store, I look for a parking space as far away as possible, preferably without cars on either side. I take my stroller out of the back of the car, and then ponder "Which side of the car is most visible to other cars driving by?" In lots with perpendicular parking spots and two-way traffic, both sides are equally dangerous, but in lots with angled spots and one-way traffic, the far side of the car is less visible and thus the most dangerous. I get the child on this side first. Then I move to the other side, praying that no one has taken the parking spot next to me so that I can fit the stroller next to the car. If I can't fit the stroller, the child already strapped into it sits vulnerably at the back of my car. I cannot describe the uneasiness I feel in those moments, unbuckling the second child but warily watching traffic and the stroller handles visible over the back of my car. If the parking space is still open and my stroller fits, I wheel it up next to the door. I still have to look away for the 60 seconds it takes to unbuckle the second twin, and I spend the entire time praying that someone does not come whipping into the spot next to me without seeing my child sitting there in the short, hard-to-spot stroller. And that's just getting out of the car. Getting back in takes twice as long, and usually by the time we emerge from the store, the spots on either side of my car are taken.

Every time we go to the grocery or Walmart or Target or Lowe's, I have to go through these same bouts of terror. I am not the only one. The twin moms in my online communities complain of the same fears. I am sure all mothers of two small, stroller-bound children--whether twins or not---experience the same thing when they are heading to the grocery store.

We protect the disabled in parking lots. All retail parking lots are required by law to have handicapped spaces. I walk by those spots on my way into the store, with their loading zones on each side, and I wonder why we not protect our small children in the same manner.

Parents of higher-order multiples, such as triplets and quads, are often given handicapped parking placards for the first two or three years of their children's lives. I mentioned this to the twin moms on the message boards, but nearly all of them were adamant about not taking those spots from the truly disabled. So I did more research, and learned that in Great Britain, there are "Family Parking" spaces. These are located near the front of the store and they all have loading zones along the sides of the space. Perfect, right? Apparently not. They are not regulated by law, so parents with healthy 8 year olds take them without a thought about the parents who really need them. Some parents of twins on UK message boards said that people are so rude, they never had the opportunity to park in Family Parking spaces at all while their children were small!

So I wondered how we could remedy that here, and there are two solutions:

1. Regulate the Family Parking as we do Handicapped Parking. Pediatricians would have to provide Family Parking Placards, and police would have to fine those who parked illegally.
2. Move the Family Parking spaces further back. If you place them where they are less convenient, people who do not need them are less likely to take them. I have no problem walking from the back of the lot if it means my children are safe. There is a safety issue here, though, if they are placed too far away from the store, especially if parking at night.

Furthermore, if Family Parking is ever offered, stores should also have a cart corral adjacent to the spots with shopping carts that can hold two small children in the seat. All of Sam's Club carts accommodate two children, so there is no reason why other stores could not have them. But they need to be housed close to the parking area. When I go to Sam's, I have to lock my kids in the car and go get a shopping cart, because unlike a mother of one toddler, I cannot carry both of them into the store where the carts are kept. Again, pure terror as I run in to get the cart and pray my babies are okay for the 30 seconds I am away. These double shopping carts would actually be an asset to the store. I cannot tell you how many times I have passed up purchases because I couldn't fit any more items in the under-stroller storage basket.

Great ideas, right? I thought so. So I sent letters to all the major retailers in my area, including Walmart, Target, Walgreens, Harris Teeter, and Publix. After all, the number of multiple births---especially twin births---is skyrocketing. There are 76% more twins births today than in 1980, and 47% more today than in 1990. On Friday I was at Target and saw two sets of young twins in the store. All of us parents had our children in strollers. And there are many women who have children within 12 to 18 months of each other who could benefit from a solution as well. So I asked for Family Parking spaces, located away from the store, complete with loading zones and double shopping carts nearby.

So far all I've gotten is "Thank-you-for-your-suggestion" letters signed by an employee with a single name ("Sincerely, Karen,") so I know I am not being taken seriously. I've thought about starting a petition on Change.org, but I'm just not sure who to send the petition to. The CEOs of individual stores? Government officials? The American Academy of Pediatrics? Unless my letter happens to randomly come across the desk of a parent of multiples (and one who has actually taken his children to the store), I'm afraid no one will really care. I know that this issue will not be solved while my boys are still small enough to benefit from the solution, but I'll do anything to save future twin moms from the parking lot terror I've experienced for the last 18 months. I'm defensive. I'm ready for anything. I just don't know how to protect our kids in the free-for-all.

If you have any ideas, please send them my way.

How to shop with an umbrella stroller.

18 Months

I've been away from blogging for so long, that Blogger has a new look. And as with all changes, I don't like it.


I apologize for lagging behind. Juggling motherhood, a full time job, and a part time job seems to prevent me from doing the other things on my To-Do list (blogging, financial planning, wedding planning, backyard renovating, writing a Twins book, writing an adult novel, writing a teen novel, selling my children's book, and those are just the things I thought of immediately). 



So without further ado, what did the mama tomato say to the lagging baby tomato? CATCH UP!

Vacation. Riiiight.

In March we headed to Charleston for Larry's brother's wedding. We rented a home overlooking a marina, so Ren got to wake up every morning and say "BIG BOAT!" And unlike at home, where our 12 foot duck boat resides in the garage, he was right for a change. There were all sorts of yachts and mega boats that the boys and Larry could drool over from the comfort of our veranda.


This was our first trip with the boys, and I had no idea how much it would entail. My packing list was literally three pages long and we stuffed two cars full of high chairs, cribs, toys, food, and clothes. It's amazing that the babies actually fit...and that I didn't forget them, given all I had to remember. Thanks to Sasha, who recommended we take a roll of duct tape for baby proofing the rental home. Pure genius.  The house looked like a crime scene with all of the designer skull-and-crossbones duct tape I used, but at least the boys were safe.


I'm not sure where or when the actual "R&R" occurred though. I think the only way moms get a true vacation is if they go alone. And leave their cell phones and computers behind.


The following weekend we made a 10-hour trek to Cincinnati for my uncle's wedding. I had no idea how easy Charleston was until that trip. We were ALL very glad to be home the entire month of April.

"Big Boat!"

Doctor Shopping

In January I fired our pediatricians. They incorrectly coded a "procedure" performed on Ren and when I called to inform the office manager of the situation, they passed me off onto someone else who said "Well, that's the way we've done it for 10 years." And I've always driven 80 mph, but if I get caught, there will be consequences. 

I'm still not sure how to rectify the situation. Because my deductible has not been met, I paid out of pocket, so United Healthcare does not seem to care about the situation, even though they've been ripped off for 10 years. I've filed a fraud claim, and we'll see where that goes. I don't even want my money back. I just want them to stop charging people 5 times the acceptable amount.


Anyway, we found a new pediatrician. While the last shop had four doctors, this office only has one. I am excited about that, because if the boys get sick, they see their doctor, not whoever is in the office that day. Plus, there is no answering service, where someone decides whether my call is important enough to pass onto a doctor. The new pediatrician takes all emergency calls. This is how I remember my pediatrician operating, and I'm happy the boys will have a similar experience. 


At their 18 month visit, Gray measured in the 70th percentile for height! At his 15 month visit, he was only in the 30th percentile. I don't know if this is truly a big growth spurt, or just faulty measuring at the 15 month appointment (where he was suddenly a half inch shorter than he was at 12 months. When I inquired about this with the [now-fired] pediatrician, she said, "Well it's not an exact measurement. It's an estimation." Funny, because when Ren dropped off those charts, that same doctor made me feed him butter for 3 months). Gray's weight is not surprisingly in the 85th percentile. He's a big boy. But like the new pediatrician said, as long as his weight and height are in the same vicinity, it's okay. I should not cut him off of whole milk, as suggested by the previous doctors.


Ren's weight is in the 17th percentile, and his height is in the 7th. This is actually a growth spurt for him! It's so odd having twins that are so disproportionate. Most strangers in Walmart ask me if Ren is younger or they assume he is a girl. Given that these are people I meet in Walmart, it doesn't bother me too much.

Not a "big boat" but enough to scare the big boy.

Gettin' Lippy

The boys' vocabulary has exploded in the last 3 months. They surprise me daily with new words. Last week we were walking in the neighborhood past a 15 mph speed limit sign. Grayden pointed at it and yelled "FIVE!" I was floored. He's also a shape guru, saying "circle," "square," "triangle," "rectangle," "oval," and "star." While Ren can identify all of these shapes, he doesn't vocalize them yet. But he is the animal sound expert---he even knows how to hiss like a snake. 


I am excited to watch all of these changes but a little sad, too. Not only because the boys tell me "No," now, but also because it's quite clear they are almost little boys and no longer babies.

"SIDE! SIDE!" 

We've turned our front yard into a children's wonderland (I stay out of the backyard because of snakes and the aforementioned lack of backyard renovations). The boys have a sandbox, water table, pool, and assorted yard toys. So at some point every day, we start hearing the chant of "SIDE! SIDE! SIDE!" indicating that the have had enough of their indoor wonderland and want to venture into the great outdoors. 


At first I had trouble keeping them under control. One would run east, the other south, and as Sasha said, you're forced to decide who to save. We even rigged up a clothesline which I strung backpack harnesses to so that they had some outdoor time when I was alone with them. But they are listening better, and on good days, I'm brave enough to take them outside on my own without any restraints. On good days. 

My New Vacuum Sucks!

A true Libra, I am obsessed with balance in my life. As a young child, I insisted that my hotdogs were cut into equal pieces, and I always made sure that an equal number of pieces were dipped into mustard as into ketchup. As a teenager, I resisted piercings and tattoos because they ruined the natural, beautiful symmetry of one's body. And as an adult, my Libra-ness comes out in my purchasing patterns. I don't think I've ever bought a single stick of deodorant or just one carton to Diet Coke. Everything must come in twos. Including pets (and babies).

Therefore, we have two dogs and two cats (and two babies). We failed to consider the shedding issue when we moved our black lab into a home with off-white carpeting, but have spent the last three years trying to find a solution. Those of you who have lived with a lab know what I am talking about, and while Aunt Gigi calls the endless supply of relinquished hair "little pieces of love," I call it disgusting. The other day I got the boys' cheese out of the refrigerator and there was a stray black lab hair stuck to it. Gross. I shudder to think of how many Remy hairs my babies have ingested.

I am sure the other three pets contribute to the issue, but Jud is a cairn terrier, one of the few breeds of dog that does not shed. Princess Izzy, our exotic shorthair cat, does let the fur fly sometimes, but at least it's white and blends in with the carpet. And I'd wager that all three of them together do not contribute a tenth of the hair that Remy leaves around the house.

We've had an Oreck vacuum for three years, which until yesterday, I thought worked well. It seemed to pick up the dog hair, and it definitely worked better than the two Hoovers that Larry and I brought into our relationship. Still, though, I was intrigued by the Dyson Animal, as the name implied it was vicious enough to confront our problem. But who can afford a $600 vacuum? Certainly not us.

Then Woot ran the Dyson DC 33 refurbished on special last week. I started doing some research, and found that the DC 33 is nearly identical to the DC 28 Animal, minus a few attachments. And the price was a mere $199. It seemed a worthy credit card purchase if it could rescue my babies from a sea of fur.

So far, it's the best impulse buy I've ever made. When it arrived yesterday, I tested it on a small patch of carpet that had been vacuumed by the Oreck less than 24 hours before. I ran the Dyson over an area about 6 feet by 3 feet, and this is how much dog hair it reclaimed from the carpet:

I was amazed. I waited to vacuum the rest of the living room until Larry came home, because I needed a witness to this spectacular machine and a co-celebrant in my victory over dog hair. We vacuumed our living room and the boys' room last night and had to empty the canister SEVEN times before we finished. The Oreck missed seven bags worth of black dog hair. Larry and I feel like we have new carpet now.

My college roommate was asking for vacuum recommendations on Facebook recently, and one responder said "Anyone who recommends anything other than a Dyson has never used a Dyson." I have to agree. And I mean nothing but the highest praise when I say "My new vacuum sucks!"

Historical Moments at Harris Teeter

Today is a momentous day. Not because LSU and Alabama are meeting in the National Championship (don't get me started on either the BCS system or Nick $atan. There is not enough blood pressure medicine in the county to get me through that conversation). No, it is a momentous day because my boys rode in the race car shopping cart at Harris Teeter. Check it:

Despite the clear asymmetry in Ren's face here (yes, I know I should get over it), this picture brings joy to my heart. It signals the end of the supermarket struggles which we have endured these last 15 months. You simply cannot appreciate the simplicity of grocery shopping until you tote two babies into the store with you. For short trips to the store, we used a double umbrella stroller. I'd struggle pushing and steering the stroller with one hand while toting a basket, but then I discovered if I contorted the basket's handle, I could get it to sort of fit over two handle bars and it would support a bit of weight. I couldn't buy anything heavy, like milk or cat food, but it worked well for formula trips.

For more extensive trips I had to use the big stroller. It has a push bar handle, so it is easier to steer one-handed. I'd push the stroller and pull a shopping cart, which sounds quite easy. I assure you, it is not, and several witnesses at Harris Teeter and Publix can attest to the fact that I clipped corners and ran over feet every time I was there. It's even more difficult when you have one child who grunts and whines loudly every time you stop moving. I would stop to read a label or search for an item while still using only one hand to rock the stroller. It was a nightmare, and needless to say, I've hated grocery shopping for the last year and three months.

But today that all changed. The boys got into the race car shopping cart without any complaints and I was able to use two hands to push the cart, read labels, and steer. It gets easier!