Overheard from the backseat of my car

Joseph's friend: "Joseph, you have Aspergers right?"
Joseph: "Right.  And you have Tourette's System*?"
Joseph's friend: "Yeah." *long pause* "That's probably why we're such good friends."
Joseph: "Because we understand each other."

Melt.

*He really called it "Tourette's System.  He's too cute.

The visitors

I had some visitors this past weekend.  I watched thme run around the house and take toys off the shelf and scream at each othrt and laugh at each other and eat bowls of applesauce and then run around some more.  I stared at them and wondered "How were you both ever so small that you fit in my tummy?"

The surro-twins, they're not tiny babies any more.  They're little people with gigantic personalities.  I spent most of the weekend just watching them and enjoying being around them.  The time I spent with them was about the only time in the past two weeks I haven't had a pounding, burning lupron-induced headache.  Maybe because they were a nice reminder that everything I'm going through is for a reason and when it's all done and we're (please, oh please) successful there will be another little bit (or two) of magic in the world.

There's The Boy who laughs at everything and will let you hold him (even if you're pretty much a stranger to him) as long as he's eating chicken fingers.

There's The Girl who's a little more serious and hard to impress.  Once you make her smile though you feel like you've won something.

The Boy doesn't want to stop and look at what's in front of him, not when there's something even more interesting across the room.

The Girl is a little more deliberate.  Once she knows what she wants she's determined to go after it.

When you give them a present they might think it's hilarious to try to drop it in the toilet.

And when they nap they put their little heads together.

Yup, I did a good job.  Now their daddies are doing a good job.  I can't even explain to you how much it filled my heart up to see the babies and see how well they're doing.  The timing of their visit was perfect too.  I needed a reminder that at the end of all the shots and the ultrasounds and the headaches and the procedures and the pills....

Something wonderful happens.

One year ago today Jesse's credit card was stolen for a stupid reason.
Two years ago people were rude by proxy.
Four years ago today Elle wanted an itchy potty.
Five years ago today Joseph wanted Jesse to take ED medication.

Lupron Blues

So I don't know if I've mentioned this or not (and I'm too lazy to go back and check) but I am preparing for another embryo transfer.  This will be my second attempt with this new couple and for various reasons I'm feeling a lot more optimistic than I was the last time around.  As it stands right now it looks like I should be transferring sometime right around, or even on, Thanksgiving Day.

In preparation for the IVF cycle I have been on a drug called Lupron.  I have to give myself an injection of it in my belly every day.  Luckily there is plenty of padding and the shots really don't even hurt that much.  Usually Elle picks out the spot where I should do the injection then the counts down for me to jab myself. It's a family affair.

Lupron is a hell of a drug.  Here's me normally - "Hello!  I enjoy things that are pleasant!  Chocolate is good!"  Here's me on Lupron - "I have had a headache since last Tuesday.  I swear to god that whatever it is you're doing right now you're only doing to piss me off.  If you don't stop breathing so loud I am going to rip your face off.  WHY DON'T WE HAVE ANY CHOCOLATE IN THIS HOUSE!??!?!?!"

The kids call Lupron my "crabby shots" and it's a pretty well deserved nickname.  I try really hard not to take it out on them and most of the time I'm pretty successful (poor Jesse gets the worst of it) but I guess sometimes I fail.  We were in Goodwill the other day looking for some finishing touches for Halloween costumes and Elle was just not listening at all.  When we were standing in line she kept whining and begging for me to please buy her some chocolate eyeballs that looked like they were about 47 years old, please buy the eyeballs, why won't you buy the eyeballs, I NEED the eyeballs, I never get any eyeballs, these are the best eyeballs ever, I will cry if I don't get these eyeballs.  Joseph started shoving himself between me and Elle and trying to whisper something to her.  She couldn't hear over the sound of her own whining so finally he yelled "Watch out Elle!  Don't make Mommy mad!  You know she's crabby when she's on her Lupron!"  We got some looks.

But in spite of having had a constant throbbing headache for the past week and having my asshole dial turned up to 11 things are pretty good. Halloween was fun.  The kids were adorable.  Please stand by for photographic proof in 3 .... 2.... 1....

In case you can't tell they went as Doctor Elle and Plants vs Zombie zombie Joseph.  And didn't they do a nice job when I said "Look at me you guys!"?

Oh yeah!  I also became famous on facebook for like three seconds when I posted a picture from the Anoka Halloween parade.  But that's a story for another day.  For now I have to go eat my weight in Nutella.

Little Elle on the Prairie

You may recall that several weeks ago Elle and I took a little road trip to see some historical Laura Ingalls related history.  It was a joy to spend those days with just Elle.  She was funny and sweet did the most adorable things.  She also broke something in pretty much every location we went to.  By the end of the trip I was calling her Hurricane Elle because it turns out that girlfriend has a serious case of the klutz.

So join me if you will on a pictorial journey down memory lane as I tell the story of that time Elle and I drove to South Dakota and then back again.

The trip began as so many in American history have - in a covered wagon. 

Actually, that's not true.  The trip really began in my car which we had packed to the gills with cheese sandwiches (remember how excited she was about the cheese sandwiches?  Maybe not, I might have mentioned it on facebook) hard boiled eggs, activity books, Barbies and changes of clothes for one very picky little dresser.

The first stop on the trip was the Laura Ingalls museum in Walnut Grove, MN.  Laura and her family lived here for a time but the town is mostly known for being the setting of the odd and inaccurate tv series based on the books.  In turn the museum is really more about the show than it is about the real Laura Ingalls.  Here Elle stands with the real fireplace used in the show.  I think that's what it was.  It's hard to get a close look at things when you're touring with a five year old who cares less about what she's seeing than she does about what else she can see.

There were lots of other exhibits that Elle really enjoyed as well.  It's a pretty neat little museum with lots of hands on stuff for kids so if you have a kid into pioneer stuff this would be a good place to go.  They had a little church with an organ you could play.  Elle really liked that.

 They also had some old fashioned toys you could play with.  This was another big hit with Elle.  I guess playing with dominoes makes her look like she's 12.  Odd.

I forced Elle to try on these pioneer clothes.  She looked so cute that this older lady who was in the museum started kind of ... following us around and wouldn't stop talking to us.  We finally had to go into another building in order to lose her.

 Then there was this odd military exhibit. I guess to highlight Laura's military career?  Elle did not enjoy trying on this helmet but I made her do it anyway.  Can you tell that the thing weighed about as much as she did?

 Next up was a jail cell.  Always good for a laugh.



The next exhibit was a pioneer dugout house.  Elle was fascinated with the bed made of rope and furs.  As someone who has an unnatural fear of bedbugs I was pretty much horrified when she insisted on trying it out.  Yuck.  The good news is that she seemed to come out relatively infestation free. 

Then it was time for a quick phone call.  Just because you're exploring the prairie doesn't mean you can't use modern technology.

 After that was a visit to the school house.

We walked though this big area of weed and overgrown grass to get to this fiberglass horse.  I don't know why Elle looks like she hasn't brushed her hair in a week.  Pioneers didn't have hair brushes either.  I think.

Elle's favorite part of this museum was the outhouse exhibit.  This sign made us laugh and laugh and laugh.  For the rest of the trip Elle kept asking if she could poop in whatever exhibit we happened to be in at the time.

We drove all the way to Walnut Grove to play with some old toys.  I told Elle my grandparents used to have that same toy barn when I was a kid. This led her to believe that I had been a pioneer.  Not pictured, this stuffed goat that you could squeeze and then it would yodel.  We only did that about a million times.  We only stopped because the old lady who had been following us before caught up to us and we had to move on again.

This little area where you could pretend to be a pioneer grocer was Elle's favorite part of the whole museum.  We spent a REALLY long time here buying butter and canned goods from each other.  I have to admit that Elle is the one that finally put an end to this game.  (What?  It was fun!)  Not pictured here is the large glass front of this counter.  Moments after I took this picture Elle ripped the entire thing off.  I don't know how she managed it but somehow with her puny bare hands she pulled the glass front and wooden frame off.  There was no one else in the building at the time but I looked around and there were security cameras.  Maybe somewhere there exists film of me frantically shoving the thing back together while Elle happily rings up another order of butter and eggs.

The last stop on this tour was the old post office.  Museum karma caught up with Elle and as we were leaving this area she tripped and when stumbling across the room and crashed into a wooden telephone booth.  I almost laughed because it looked so damned funny but then I heard a pathetic little moan from inside the booth.  Elle, being the drama girl that she is, started to cry as soon as I got over to her so I used the phone to call the pioneer doctor.  That made her laugh and then she wanted to call the pioneer doctor too.  When she hung up the phone the receiver snapped off.  In her defense the receiver had been duct tapped on so I don't really think she can take the blame here but cripes.  It was clearly time for us to leave.

Stay tuned for the next installment where we visit Plum Creek and Elle manages to break something else.  That's right, my baby broke something at a creek.

Three years ago today I had a conversation with the neighborhood brat.

Six years ago today I was OMG, boring.

When your children are raised by a semi-crunchy mom

In this house we have no problem with letting the yellow mellow.

I just wish that once in a while my children would remember to flush down the brown.  Or to shut the door when they're in the bathroom ... doing bathroom things.

You would think that once your children are potty trained you would be able to become less intimately acquainted with their waste products.  Not in this house.

Is there every going to come a day where I am not able to tell who was in the bathroom last just by looking in the toilet?

She got less because she needed less

I started this blog because of Elle. When I got pregnant with her I wanted a way to keep my friends and family updated on my pregnancy.  In retrospect I probably vastly overestimated the interest my friends and family would have in my pregnancy.  I think sometimes when you're a woman who's experiencing the agony and the ecstasy of her first pregnancy you think everyone else is going to be as fascinated by every little twitch and twinge as you are.  Of course no one really is but that's ok.  It fun to share.

Over time this blog evolved.  I talk a lot about myself now, about my surrogate pregnancies, about raising the kids, about any little thing that pops into my head.  I post a lot less than I used to but now I think of this blog as more important than I ever did before.  Perhaps it's morbid but sometime around the time I gave birth to Little A I started to think that if something bad were to ever happen to me at least the kids could go back and read my blog.  In that way they could know me and know how much I love them and maybe look back and laugh at some of the good times we shared together.

I had such big plans for what I wanted to share yesterday on this blog.  I wanted to talk about how Elle turned six years old.  I wanted to share her excitement about the whole day and how when I picked her up from school she was nearly vibrating with the pure joy of being six. I wanted to talk about how she used about eight pounds of sprinkles to decorate her birthday cake and how she put such thought into picking out an ice cream flavor she thought everyone would like.  I wanted to talk about how she squealed with delight over every present she opened and how when I put her to bed she told me "I've been waiting my whole life to be six years old!"

All those things happened and they were wonderful but the day, on the whole, was not wonderful.  It was the kind of day, the kind of week really, that had me shaking my head and feeling totally at a loss.

For the past week we have been dealing with Joseph being unable to deal with the fact that it's Elle's birthday.  He's too jealous.  He's too rigid.  He can't deal with the fact that Elle gets something that he's not getting at the EXACT SAME TIME!  We've spent the days now gently reminding him that yes, Elle gets some special stuff but he had a big party on his birthday day and he got to pick out the flavor of ice cream that he wanted.  We've less gently reminded him that yes, Elle gets to open presents on her birthday but that on his birthday we all sat around and watched him open presents too.  We've exasperatedly gone over and over the fact that yes, one time we went to Disneyland for Elle's birthday but that we also went to New York for his.

None of it mattered.  There were tantrums and melt-downs and general terrible behaviors all day long.  As Elle stood in the frozen food section and picked her ice cream flavor Joseph pouted and made rude comments.  When she said she wanted mint ice cream Joseph screamed and gagged.  Elle looked worried and said "I'll pick something else."  I assured her that mint was a fine choice and that she could get that if she wanted.  Joseph screamed "Oh sure, give Elle whatever she wants!  Elle is the most special and I am just boring old Joseph!"  She didn't pick mint ice cream.

When a few people came over for cake and presents Joseph spent a good portion of time in the bathroom wailing because no one was paying attention to him.  Later Jesse had to take Joseph into the laundry room because he was having a melt down over Elle getting such good presents.  We turned on her new toy guitar to drown out the sound of him yelling.

I was so angry yesterday.  And I was just so sad.

From the time Elle has been baby she's always had to give so much.  She's spent hours and hours and hours of her life in waiting rooms while Joseph has had various therapies.  She's had to be pulled out of school early so that I can get both of them to Joseph's appointments across town on time.  She wants to say hi to Joseph when they pass each other in hallway at school but she's learned not to because it upsets him.  She's had countless conversations and playtimes with me cut short because I have to deal with something Joseph needs.

Elle, if you read this someday, I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry that you got less.  Less attention, less time, less understanding, less consideration.  You needed less and so you got less.  I always tried to make it even and to work it out but I know it wasn't fair and I'm sorry.

But also know this - on the day that you were six years and one day old, your mom went out and bought you a carton of mint ice cream for you to eat all on your own.

Two years ago today Elle was four.
Four years ago today the kids were getting older.

Three things

The other day Elle was sitting at the table drawing a picture.  As she drew she hummed a little song to herself and swung her legs.  I looked over her shoulder and peeked at her drawing of herself playing on the playground.  "That's a really good picture sweetie."

"I know" she responded. "I'm a really good drawer."

Just like that.  Matter of fact.  She went back to drawing and humming in general feeling pretty content with herself.  She didn't hesitate to say that she was good at something.  She didn't argue with me and insist she wasn't really that good.  She didn't follow her statement up with "But you should see my friend!  She's really good.  I'm only a little good.  I need to get better."

I was so struck by that.  I don't remember ever having the confidence she has.  Maybe I did once, when I was her age but then if I had it when did I lose it and why?  Why did I go from being a self-assured little girl into a woman who has no faith in herself?

If you were to ask me what I was really good at I would say nothing.  That would be my first answer.  I can't keep my house clean enough, I'm disorganized, every time I try to make bread I fail miserably, I never went to college because math is to hard for me and I get anxious in new situations, I have terrible eyesight, I forget things all the time.  And that?  That's what I see when I look at myself.  When someone compliments me I deflect it and deny it.  When people compliment me on my photography my response is that they only think it's good because they don't know any better.  I mean, I have literally said that to people.  It's why I have done very little with my photography business (even though I started a facebook page for it).  I'm certain that I'm not good at it.

That terrifies me.  I don't want Elle to turn out like this.  I don't want her to think that she's not good at anything.  I don't want her to always second guess herself.

So I'm trying to change the pattern.  I need to start seeing what I'm good at so that others can see it to.  I need to let my daughter see me taking credit for the things I do well so that she can know it's ok to credit for the things she does well.  So for days I have thought about what three things I feel like I'm really good at that I feel comfortable acknowledging.  It was hard and I had to stifle a lot of doubt and insecurity but I came up with a list that I think is honest and true.

1. I am really good at canning.  I have a pantry full of applesauce, jams, salsas, tomato sauce, pickles and other canned goods.  I taught myself how to do it and I'm proud of that. 

2. I am good at making people laugh.  I am a funny person.  I have a good sense of humor and I'm not afraid to use it.

3. I am a really good mother.  (And to that I'll also add that I'm a really good surrogate mother.)  With me my children have love, care, security, laughter, learning, and an endless supply of apple crisp.  I'm not a perfect parent but I work on improving the areas where I make mistakes.

Phew!  That was hard.  But good!  It feels good to give yourself credit.  So now I want to hear from you.  What are your three?  No putting yourself down!  What are you good at?

One year ago today some people were assholes and needed to be treated as such.
Two years ago today I was maybe in a cult.
Four years ago Elle was the easy child. Hahahahahahaha.

I wish I had half her self confidence

"Even when I'm not looking in the mirror I still know how cute I am because I can just remember it from the last time I looked." - Elle

Two years ago today I was pregnant with twins.