Baby Clothing Chaos

When Quinn was born, I got into the habit of organizing the clothing one size up long before he needed it.  I always found that I needed it out of the blue one morning; it seemed everything fit nicely as I put him to bed the night before and nothing fit come sunrise.  It was a good habit to get into, especially with the Mega-baby that he turned out to be.  He was wearing 12-18 month sizes by the time he was 6 months old (you can imagine our concerns with my brother and his Marfans).  It's a totally different story with my two little sparrows this time around.  Don't get me wrong, they are doing fabulously.  However, they are in stark contrast to the first one; at four months, they are still in the middle of the 0-3 month sizes. Since I was a flu-ridden mess and couldn't be around the babies much this weekend, I took some time to sort out the 3-6 month clothes in their closets and get things organized for the next healthy day that I wash them all up (and trust me, you need to be organized with twins).  Any parent will tell you that kids clothes are also crazy expensive, so you want to make sure that they get the most wear and the most money out of them.  As I was puzzling through everything, I suddenly stopped for a moment.  What the hell was I doing?  Why did this seem so difficult? I looked around at the different neatly folded piles that I was creating while obsessing over brands and whatnot and I came to terms with a fact that is true about most of the fashion industry.
 
Clothing sizes, specifically for babies under 2, are complete horsesh☠t.

I'm serious about this.  What is up with the variance?  I can understand it somewhat with adult sizes, that this brand of jeans is slightly more snug than the others, but Holy Hannah in a Rowboat, it's night and day with the baby sizing.  Other than "NB" or newborn which is generally self-explanatory (and roughly guess-timated at 7ish lbs), the rest is confusing as all get out.  To begin with, if you are an adult size 7 (and who isn't these days, ha ha), you wear a size seven.  If you are a baby and three months old, you wear 6 months.   Why?  The sizing works in "up to"-s.  The babies are wearing "up to" three months and now I'm getting the "up to" six months ready.  At that point, it will be "up to" 9 and 12 months.  Why is that?  By the time they clear the 24 month mark it is off to toddler land and size 2, which, say it with me, you wear if you are a size 2.  What is with the switchover?  Why then?  WTF?

Those of us that have had preemies also know how hard it is to dress them.  As far as I can tell, there are really two premature sizes:  "up to" 5 lbs and "up to" 7 lbs.  My little babies were big by preemie standards:  4 lbs 13 oz and 4 lbs 1oz.  If they were less, we would have had to put them in doll clothes.  This is an option that many parents have to resort to (and for one panicked hour, I thought I might have to);  thankfully I found prem sizing at Sears, Gymboree, Babies R Us and Zellers.

Then there is the differences between the brands.  There is at least a two inch difference in the jammies between the smallest brand and the largest in the same freaking size.  Two inches.  That's a lot when you are only knee high to a grasshopper to begin with.  So, as it did the first time around with Quinn, every growth spurt is greeted with a frantic comparison of length and width.  Every time I do this and every time I seem to forget.  Maybe this time it's because I have twice the clothing to go through, but I think I've figured out this sizing thing...

Most common brands by size (grouped in ascending order)

Wee  

Gymboree, Gagou Tagou, Old Navy, Baby Bruin, Kushies, Sesame Beginnings

Not So Wee

 Joe Fresh, Osh Kosh, The Children's Place, Roots, Pekkle, Bonnie Togs, Carters, Love 'N Cuddles, Just Born

Friggin' Huge 

Best Beginnings (by little me),  Cherokee, Small Wonders, Please Mum, babyboots, Baby Bum Equipment, George

(This is by no means a total guarantee, but rather a guideline as there is always that ONE outfit!)

I know there are a lot of hot designer brands out there that I have neglected, but I don't shop there and really do not hang with many people that do.  Seriously... if you want to spend $75 on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts for a baby, I really don't think I want to know you.  I can't afford that crap and quite frankly, it's a little on the small side.  Except for Tommy Hilfiger... that sh☠t is huge.  I'd put it around the Please Mum area.

Personally, I don't care how baggy the clothing is on them as long as it is not too short.  My classifications are purely based on length and if it looks too tight, I just toss it in one of the bins I have for outgoing baby clothes.  A few of my Mommies have pointed out that the sizing would also depend on your baby, are they long and thin or short and round.  Carters seems to be a better fit for our long and slender babies for example, where some of the other brands might be better for rounder babies.  So you now have a full three dimensions to obsess over.  F☠ck!

While I'm here, I might as well spout off about my favourite brands as well.  Let's face it, I clean up an awful lot of poop and spit up in a day, so I am looking for wash and wear-ablilty.  So far, in the jammies department it is Joe Fresh, babyboots, Carters, Gagou Tagou, Pekkle, Love 'N Cuddles and George.  My clothing votes fall around the same, although I have had some very cute, very washable things from Gymboree and I cannot overlook my longtime love of  Please Mum.  A lot of the designer-snob people turn up their noses, but I love this brand.  Not only is it Canadian, but damn cute.  Quinn has worn a ton of Please Mum over the years and will do so until the day he decides he's too big for it.  :(  Hopefully, that will be a long time from now; until then, I can continue to dress my little rock star there.

I've mentioned this theme before, the gender bias against little boys when it comes to clothing and bedding and the like. Since my original post 2 years ago, I must say that it has improved slightly.  Very slightly. I am seeing a little more in the neutral category (a few more colours than just yellow and mint green) which has been great with my twins as whoever needs the outfit/jammies can wear it.  Baby bedding designs have also improved, assuming you live anywhere else but Canada where you are limited to basically Sears, Walmart or Babies R Us (all of which have less than half of the selection here that they have south of the border.  WTF?).  As you can see by the linen and the dresser I painted to match, I was able to pick a neutral pattern that would compliment both of my babies.

My Art Therapy

...and I had to fight for it.  Sigh.  I guess Rome was not built in a day, but I am glad to see some movement in boy's clothes.  Even unpacking them yesterday, I was amazed at how blue Wyatt's side of the closet still was.  There was some pink on Zoe's but also green and brown and anything else you can think of.  Baby steps, I guess.

I have a f☠ckton of clothes for these babies and for that I am grateful;  very grateful for friends and family that mobilized on the news of their impending arrival.  So many gifts and donations came in that I did what I said I would do, I paid it forward, as I will do with these clothes when my babies grow out of them.  These babies are my last I'm afraid, so it will be time to pass it all on.  In the meantime, I have to keep wrangling them.  The dresser you see above is currently full of their current clothes (minus sweaters and hang-up outfits), towels and washcloths, receiving blankets, bottom sheets and blankets.  Their closet is small and the room is long and narrow (especially with two cribs, a huge dresser and a futon in it) so I had to maximize the space that was there.  Enter Babies R Us.  In one of my half blind stumblings around the store, I found some closet organizers and with the help of a few gift certificates have started to set up a pretty nifty closet for them.  I started with four canvas bins from Koala Baby, two sage and two natural;  I then added the natural closet organizer and the 6 shelf organizer.  I started sorting out their hang up clothes, each getting a pocket and colour coded hangers (hers are white, his green).  I figured out early on that one of the boxes will fit on each side of the closet organizer and I put the green ones there for shoes, hats and little things that tend to go missing easily.  The other two I have underneath stocked with diapers and more wipes that are ready to go.  Next time I plan to pick up another closet organizer and have the second full of the "next" clothes and use the closest one for the current stuff; as they get bigger, that one drawer is not going to hold much.  I'll take some photos when it is finally done and straightened up, as I hope to finally (!) finish the nursery at some point in the near future. 

Raising a baby is hard.  Raising two babies is really hard.  Managing to keep on top of everything is even harder.  At least I know I have one little corner of organization in my house of constant chaos.  I may not have anything clean or wrinkle free to wear, but by god, they do.  My elder son may rain craft supplies and little pieces of paper wherever he goes, but when I run out of diapers or wipes, I am fully stocked and grab more.  Much like comfort, you have to take the small victories where you can find them.  Now, if I could only find  a clean shirt, I might be getting somewhere...

10 Years

Today marks a hard anniversary for our family.  Ten years ago today,  Sean's Mother, Margaret was taken from us.  Like any other significant anniversary, we find ourselves marveling at the passage of time.  We find ourselves so distant from that day, yet the realization of how much time has actually passed whisks us back there in an instant.

A week or so prior, we were packing up our apartment and Marg stopped by after work.  Although it was only June, our tiny one bedroom apartment was already a sweat box, only made worse by all our computer equipment (we were working at home at the time).  She was upset... there were a few things at work that were annoying her and she was having problems with her other son and his girlfriend (who lived with her with their young son).  We had quit smoking a several months previous, but she stayed for a "smoke and a coke" and we talked about what was troubling her.  All the while I kept thinking "I have to pack... I have to get this finished..."  She was there a while.  Our Cokes were drank, her cigs stubbed out and she took her leave so we could resume our tasks.  I saw her to the door;  as she turned to go down the stairs she said "I love you guys".  I answered back, reflexively.  If I had known that moment was to be our last together, I would not have let it end like that.

We weren't always that close, mind you.  We lived in that building for seven years... but before that, we lived with her.  Sean and I were planning on moving in together after his Dad announced that he was moving to Angus and taking the cats.  Sean had just finished his first year of college and I had become totally disenfranchised with university, with my job and with my family life at home.  I was heading to Humber myself in the fall for Nursing and we needed a place to live.  We were looking for places ourselves when she stepped in and offered up the other bedroom in her two bedroom basement apartment.  The place was quite roomy, had two levels and she felt she needed the company (and it would help out with the rent).  After much discussion, we moved in.  You may be familliar with the proverb "no house is big enough for two women".  In our case it was correct.  We got on each others nerves, with Sean stuck in the middle.  We all moved to a bigger house hoping that would allieviate some of the tension;  it did not.  By the following July we had moved into our first little one bedroom apartment (a bachelor, really).  Our relationship improved shortly afterward.

Flash forward a few years... we had taken the afternoon off to go to a book signing.  As we finished up a few last odds and ends, the phone rang.  It was Sean's brother; Marg was ill at work and been rushed to hospital.  They thought it was her heart.  I thought "ok, she hasn't eaten or it's angina or something" and wasn't overly concerned at that moment.  By the time we got to the hospital, we knew things were different.  According to one of her co-workers, she had a terrible headache all morning (she suffered from migraines).  On the way to the nurse's office, she collapsed.  Those by her witnessed some seizure like activity and her heart had stopped.  The one person that knew CPR started it then and was unsuccessful.  The paremedics worked on her for 10 minutes and got her back on the way in .  While she was in ER, she coded several times.  By the time we got to her she was intubated and remained unconscious, but was stable.  It was heartbreaking.  Neither one of us had experienced anything like this before and here we were in the ER, holding her purse and going through it looking for phone numbers.  Needless to say, we started smoking again... with the cigarettes in her purse.

Marg was on life support for days and did not show much sign of spontaneous breathing.  A year (?) or so before she had a little surgery and at that time, made sure that I knew 1) that she had updated her will, 2) where her personal papers, etc were and 3) that if, god forbid, anything happened that she did not want to "hang on by a bunch of tubes and wires".  She was adamant about this, just as adamant that I promise to take care of the "boys" and that I knew what to do as I would have the strength to do what Sean and his brother could not.  When the time came, I relayed her wishes to the team and family.  She was extubated and moved to a medical floor.

Needless to say it did not take long for things to deteriorate.  Her lungs needed suctioning and Cheyne-Stokes set in.  We made her comfortable and waited.  And waited.  It was awful.  Awful for me, terrible for Sean and terrible for her two sisters who barely left her side.  We waited and made her comfortable and hated ourselves for wanting this to be over... for wanting her to go.  The last day, Sean and I had gone with his Dad and Myrna (his parents had been amicably divorced for years) to visit.  Before we left, we said goodbye, like we did every time;  we said goodbye like it was the last time.  Before I left, I bent down and talked to her.   I told her that I would look after Sean and keep an eye on Ryan and his family.  I told her to go into Summer (heaven).  I let her know it was ok, that we would be ok and it was time for her to go.  With tears in our eyes, we left.

We were halfway home and hydroplaning through a horrible rain storm when the cel rang.  She was gone.  We had to go back.

The next few days... weeks... months were a blur.  Grief has a special way of bending time, of distorting reality.  Death is surreal, it's a concept, a reality that your brain cannot fully process.  As you continue to go on, everything seems to move differently around you.  You feel as if you are walking through water.  You are of this world, yet are not.  Colours and textures are not quite right. You feel removed from your surroundings as your grief, in it's rawness, surrounds you and creates a protective barrier around you.

We stayed in that bubble for a very long time.

A friend told us the day of the funeral that although we currently could not imagine our life without her, that there would be a point some time in the future when we would be unable to imagine what our life would be with her.  At the time, such a notion seemed preposterous;  we have since found this to be true. 

She has missed so much.  I went back to nursing, just as she wished and have done pretty well for myself.  "Sleeping Grandma" is merely a photograph to our three beautiful children.  So many events have occured that I wish that I could have sought her counsel on.  So many things have happened that probably would not have happend if she had not died.  The list of "would have" and "could have" and "should have"-s is endless.

Although I hear her voice in the back of my mind and have a good idea what she would say about things that have happened since, we are at that point and have been for a while. As brutal as it sounds, we have gone from I don't know what life will be like without her to I don't know what life would be like if she was still here. It is small comfort, but comfort nevertheless.  We honour her memory, her image graces our mantle.  Our daughter bears her name.

Our loved ones shape us and stay with us always. They make us who we are; our job is to go forward using what they have taught us. Although we miss them dreadfully, life does in fact flourish and go on.  We have done just that.

A lot has happened in 10 years.

10 years... 

...We still miss you.

You've Come a Long Way, Babies!

A lot can happen in four months.

Well, five really...  It's been five months since Wyatt's diagnosis. They were born four months ago yesterday.

Wow.

In that time, they've gone from tiny 5 lb bird-like creatures to big chubby babies that are (I think...) about 12 lbs now. 

Newborn Wyatt... so tiny.

Wyatt now. "What?  I wasn't gonna lick this..."

Newborn Zoe and a loonie...

Zoe now... a lot bigger and a lot goofier.

Both are developing nicely but we are starting to see the gulf widen between them a bit.  Zoe can hold her head up almost still now, while Wyatt has a way to go with that.  He can hold his head up, but it's a bit wobbly and he'll end up crashing into you with his giant noggin.  His babbling is more complex and multi syllabic while Zoe sticks to the classics:  the baby gurgle, the Gah! and her specialty, the blood curdling scream. She can smile and give a tiny giggle (a little "hee hee" that is adorable) yet he is just starting to learn how to smile.  When he does, he looks like an anime character as he uses his whole face.

You can rub my tummy for luck.

Unlike Quinn, who was pretty much textbook +1 (ie: exactly one month ahead) developmentally, these guys are all over the map (which is totally normal for premature twins born 6 weeks early).  I'm supposed to subtract 6 weeks from their age ("6 weeks adjusted") which would make them 2½ months old.  I've mentioned the head holding and the babbling; this generally occurs at the end of the second month (which would put them about right where they should be). They've both discovered their hands which usually happens (so they say) in the third month too.  So, as you can see, they are right where they should be for typical term singletons with some things and right where they should be for premature twins in other areas.  Confused yet?  Yeah, join the club.  I'm not worried about them at all as Zoe is as bright as a button and Wyatt is pretty bright too.  He'll do things in his own time, which as it stands now is keeping pretty much at par with his sister.

 

 How'd they get so big?

Our family is growing and changing as well.  Quinn is adjusting to his role as big brother although he has to be reminded constantly to be careful around them. He is a big help most days and we just have to be careful to make sure that his needs are met just as much as the babies are.  There are a lot of conversations spoken through gritted teeth around here;  usually he is waving something magnificent that he has just made for me in my face as I am trying to clean up the worst poop ever.  There was a lot of yelling initially as I was just too tired to think anything through...  it really hit home one day when Quinn remarked to his Dad that he was dressing up to disguise himself as someone else so that I wouldn't yell at him.  Ow.  Guilt, double plus ungood.

Things are settling down now that I am getting more sleep on average.  They are now going 4-5 hours between feeds and can go 6 hours at night.  Two or three nights this week they have gone 7 or so hours which has been fantastic. 5 hours sleep in a row?  Inconceivable!  Quinn still has an outburst once in a while, but that has thankfully decreased as well.  I still look hungrily to Friday nights as the weekend means Hubby's help for [a very short] two days.

I remember being settled into a routine by the end of the second month with Quinn (which corresponded to two weeks after I felt better post C-section).  I stopped about a week or so ago and admitted to myself that I felt that way again.  I didn't have that same overall sense of panic that I had the first time around, I just felt very very busy and a tad overwhelmed at times.  I'm happy to say that has subsided a bit so that now I can enjoy my family more.  We're still going to Mother Goose and I'm sure that has continued to help as well. 

Four months... it seems a lifetime (and for two little people, it has been just that).  I've come to terms with my son's condition and embraced his differences (I had already accepted him, make no mistake).  We've all made our own adjustments along the way and will continue to do so.  I've even started networking with other DS parents and getting out there to share our story and learn from others.  I've found support in surprising places and accepted the lack of it in the more obvious spots.   A friend remarked the other day that she would bet that I didn't think that I had it in me and that she was impressed and proud of me, even though I wasn't her own daughter.  I'm willing to bet she doesn't know how much that really meant to me, or how much I needed to hear that.  I'm proud of us too.  Anyway you look at it, I feel blessed... and confident that we will overcome and embrace what the next four months brings us.

My three little monkeys.  Who'da thunk it? 

I Has a Dumb

A couple of years ago I had an experience in the grocery store which made me realize the extent of the power that our kids have over us.  Once upon a time, we were all cool.  Once upon a time I was a smart, witty intellectual nerdy-type girlie girl.  I wore makeup.  I wore jewelry.  I wore high heels.  I carried on intelligent conversations with other intelligent adults.  I had new clean clothes.  For god sakes, I showered. 

Now that my family has swelled from three to five, I find myself experiencing new levels of dementia that I did not think possible;  a new brand of brain injury totally created by the kids.

Thursday, Wyatt had a follow up appointment with the ENT to hopefully get a good look at his eardrums and assess any potential problems with fluid buildup.  The appointment was at 12:45.  Difficulties:  Bus, 5 year old.

As I have mentioned before, I'm a transit Mom.  I don't mind it all that much to be honest and with the twin stroller at the moment, it is going a lot smoother.  I'm not sure if it's the monster gear or the half-crazed look in my eye, but people just get the hell out of my way.  It's awesome.  Occasionally I have to revert to my "work" voice and ask some Emo twit to vacate the flip up seats, but other than that, it is usually pretty smooth sailing.  You just make sure you plan your route and give yourself enough time.

I started at 7 am.  Yes you read that right.  Up at 7, feed and change the babies, pump.  Get Quinn up at 7:45, eat cereal with him, get everyone dressed and ready, out the door to the bus.  Back to the house.  Run around, doing various things including make a cheese sandwich, check bus times and pack the diaper bag.  Call doctor's office to confirm appointment and check time.  Feed babies, pump and change.  Grab stuff up, head to meet Quinn's school bus.  Go home, toss in his backpack, swap out his rubber boots for runners and straight to the bus stop.  On the bus, 3 minutes later.  Rock 'n' roll. (The cheese sandwich, BTW, was Quinn's bus snack at our layover between buses).

As we were pulling up to our destination, I checked the time and saw that we were ten minutes early.  "W00t", I said to Quinn, high fiving him.  As we were rolling up to the front door, I was mentally congratulating myself again and thinking about our "treat" after.  Should we go to McDonald's or just have an ice cream at the convenience store?  It was humid, my clothes were starting to stick to me and my bowl of cereal was a very very long time ago.  No worries, just a quick appointment and then we'll go out to lunch.  Just as I pulled up to the front door, I broke out into the cold sweat of realization.

We were at the wrong doctors office.

Even though I knew we had to go to the ENT, even though I had spoken to the office earlier, I had gone to the ophthalmologist instead.  WTF?

How the hell had I managed that?

Now, to be fair, Wyatt has seen 5 doctors in the almost four months that he has been alive, 3 of which he has seen multiple times.  It was bound to happen at some point, really.

Somewhere in the next few seconds, I turned into Angry Dizzy Hulk.  First, I let out a barrage of language that threatened to melt the sidewalk.  Then, once that was set free, I was able to start triangulating my route to the ENT (which was, of course, on the complete opposite end of town).  3 buses.  It would take me three buses to get there.  I swung the stroller around and stomped off to the nearest bus stop, dragging my very confused five year old behind me.

It took us an hour and fifteen minutes to get to our destination. Since I was told the last time that the Dr's last appointment is usually 1pm and it was now well beyond that, I doubted that he was still around.  Who knew if his secretary was even still there?  I kept getting dizzier and hulk-ier.  My knees were actually wobbly and Quinn's bottom lip was quivering as we exited the last bus and went to face our [at least air-conditioned] fate.

By some miracle, the ENT was still there and the secretary was still civil.  I was almost in tears as I explained to her what had happened since we last spoke.  She just shook her head and told us to relax.  I could have hugged her.

Once we were there, things just fell into place.  I held Wyatt tightly despite his screams as the doctor suctioned out what was blocking his tiny little ear canals.  You could actually hear big pieces being sucked out of there (yuck!).  When this was all done, the ENT tried to have a look again... and failed.  Even with clean canals and the smallest pediatric head on the otoscope (not to mention his thrilling headgear), he still could not see Wyatt's ear drums.  I think I swore again.  Our instructions:  bring him back in a couple of months once he has grown.  Groan.

By this time, my knees were knocking.  I had to EAT.  Quinn picked Subway and our not so merry caravan descended on them like a pack of hungry dogs.  Our sandwich specialist attempted to take our order and I'm pretty sure that I wanted to ask about the $5 foot long specials.  Unfortunately, given the look on her face, what came out was this.

Half an hour and a thousand odd calories later, I felt much better.

We arrived home without further incident, thankfully.  Zoe slept the entire time, which was a little miracle unto itself and made more fabulous as I had forgotten to bring a "tookie" with us.  We were truly playing with fire with that one.  We beat Sean home by a few minutes and once another round of feeding and changing was over, I sloped off to the bathtub and wore my jammies to dinner.  I was done.  Finito.

Not every day around here is a complete circus, thank god.  Some days have surprisingly pleasant results. Thursday night, while waiting for Sean to finish putting Quinn to bed, I was trying to entertain the two little ones before their bath.  I had them down to their diapers as a) it was hot and b) they had puked/pooped on their last outfits for the day.  They had also run out of patience for the mobile and for Mommy tickles and I was about to have two hysterical infants on my hands when I spied the two bumbo seats in the closet.  "What the hell..." I thought, and pulled them out.  Wyatt is not as good at holding up his head as his sister so I braced behind them with two big pillows as I set them on the futon. I immediately burst out laughing and had a few minutes of hopping from one foot to the other in impatience as I waited for Sean to finish the story so he could watch them while I ran for the camera.  Although you can see that Wyatt was getting tired near the end, and the lighting is shite as this was thrown together, the results are still waaay cute.

I think she's taking our picture again...

I'm not sure which shot I like better... Wyatt's ultra casual:

S'up?

...or him gazing lovingly towards his sister.

Hey...

We have some ultra cute Zoe too...  I finally captured her goofy grin.  Which is good as it will provide some good PR for the kid as she continues to scream her way through infancy.

Wheee!

Just to be fair, here is another great moment with her. 

These photoshoots wear me out.

I've managed to unearth a few decent online resources this week too.  My traipsing through the blogosphere has finally paid off as I have found a few that I think are actually worth reading.  This is helpful as at least the illusion of shared experience can provide comfort.  One good find this week is a fantastic German lifestyle photographer named Conny Wenk.  Although she has many "typical" clients, she has many with DS as well, including her youngest daughter.  You can find her wonderful photoblog here.  I also stumbled across a downloadable book for expectant Moms:  Diagnosis to Delivery:  A Pregnant Mother's Guide to Down Syndrome.  It might have helped me a bit, hopefully it can help someone else.  I was marveling that the photography was very good until I realized that one of the contributors was none other than Conny Wenk herself.  Very cool.

Which brings me to my latest project...  As you know, I've been blogging for years and this has exploded in the last 5 months or so due to the twins and Wyatt's issues.  I've also been shopping around for DS resources and not finding a lot that I personally find useful.  I also have a husband who, when he reads my entries says very little, other than "I was there... remember?".  He did say something of note last week however: "Why don't you start a Down Syndrome blog and help some people?  You are a damn nurse after all..."  He's right.  So I did.

Down Wit Dat

Basically it will repost all my DS related entries (lets face it, DS parents don't want to hear about my garden) and feature all the useful resources I can come across.  A little redundant, yes, but hopefully it will provide some assistance to someone.  If only a laugh.  (If you are reading this there... Hi!) Besides, there has to be other quasi-coherent, non-baby collecting, non-fanatically religious DS Mommies out there that swear like hooker pirates, right?

Right?

In the end, it's been a give and take kind of week.  Much like most things around here actually.  Without breaking into 80's sitcom theme songs, you take the good with the bad.  Good:  kids are healthy and well looked after.  Bad:  Mommy has a dumb.  Good:  Wyatt is doing well.  Bad:  Mommy's... wait, what?

The memory has to come back at some point.  Until then, just assume I'm a little impaired.  Which is perfect, as it brings me down to their level.  If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  Just roll with it.  We are down wit dat.

"...Eyes, Ears, Mouth and Nose."

I can't believe it's been over 15 weeks.  I don't know where the time went.

Well, that's not true.  I do know where the time has gone:  it's been a haze of feeding, bottling, diaper changing, dishes, laundry and doctor's appointments.  It's really the amount of time that has passed that is a bit staggering.  Another astonishing fact is that in the space of just under four months they have almost tripled their weight and gone from swimming in the preemie clothes to filling out 0-3 mos sizes nicely.  Amazing.

They've had a little help along the way tho'.  My enormous appetite and unquenchable thirst has guaranteed that they continue to get pints of Mommy's Finest at mealtime.  I'm still pumping afterwards for the "top up";  after they feed, they get a bottle of EBM with a bit of formula powder added in for extra calories.  The recipe is supposed to be 5ml of the powder in 90ml of EBM which gives them an extra 20kCal.  The top up bottles are currently 60ml, so you can see that the math does not easily line up.  Having a "mixed" bottle of extra in the fridge is just another step in the "kitchen chemistry" that takes up time and energy that can be spent somewhere else.   That's another mixer bottle to wash and sterilize and keep track of (as the mixture is only good for 24 hours, ergo, so is the bottle, no matter how young the leftovers in it are).  Instead, when I'm pouring each of the 60ml bottles, I throw in 2.5ml (or less) of the powder.  They are getting less formula than prescribed, but as you can see, they are not missing anything.

My little chubsters. Thanks to Penny for zapping out that annoying tag and making my babies even more beautiful.  Love, love, love it!

The top up is an annoying practice that my pediatrician has insisted that I keep up.  I realized the other day that (another) one of the reasons that I felt so remote from the babies is the lack of snuggle time after a feed.  Normally it's the perfect time to cuddle and yes, even doze off.  Not this Mama... I have to finish up with them and then put them down to have a Medela Moment.  It's one of those million little things that contribute to a big thing.  I'll be glad when I no longer have to force feed my little Strasbourg geese.

Wyatt is still holding on strong.  Other than chilly feet and hands (his feet are usually mottled to blueish) he remains mainly asymptomatic from his AVSD.  He's usually a bit mottled all over as well, so I just make sure that he is a little more warmly dressed than his sister.  We've added two new doctors to his roster as well;  last week we saw the ENT and Friday we met his Opthomologist.

Now, the ENT has been described to me as "gorgeous" (and by that alone, I fear I have given his identity away), and he is man-pretty... if you are into thin metrosexuals, which I am not.  He did however use an iPad the entire time, which I thought was pretty cool and very forward thinking of him.  Among the countless little differences that Trisomy 21 offers up are tiny ear canals.  Even with the smallest pediatric head on the otoscope, he couldn't visualize the ear drums to see if Wyatt has any fluid built up (DS kids commonly end up with tubes in their ears due to this).  All that flaky skin on the outside of Wyatt's head lives inside his canals too;  even with his fancy extraction machine and thrilling headgear, the ENT couldn't clear the canals enough to get down there. We have to go back in two weeks after I goop Wy's ears with mineral oil every day.  He doesn't totally hate it, which I guess is a good thing.

I had no idea what was in store for Wyatt at the opthomologists.  Many DS kids have eye problems including (but not totalling) strabismus, hypermetropia, myopia, astigmatism, weak accommodation, nystagmus, cataracts, glaucoma, keratoconus, blepharitis, presbyopia, watering eyes and frequent eye infections.  Since I am myopic with a bad astigmatism and have been such since childhood, I'm not too worried about him wearing glasses in this family.  However, I had no idea how they were going to test a baby.  First they dilated his eyes with Cyclopentolate (I asked as I wanted to make sure they were not giving him atropine with his heart issues).  The orthoptist first used a series of blinking lights, toys and cards to check for muscular abnormalities.  I was happy to hear that at this point there are none, but he should be frequently monitored.  The opthomologist used her own brand of thrilling head gear and saw that he did not have cataracts (my pediatrician seemed to think he did, although she did not voice this to us) and that he did not have retinoblastoma.  The latter not being prevanlent in the DS community; the babies in our family are routinely tested as our 2-D Cousin was diagnosed at a young age.  Hers probably wasn't the genetic type, but you can never be too cautious. Happy results all around, we'll be back in 6 months to follow up.  Since the pediatrician only referred ONE of my twins, I have to ask to have Zoe checked. Poor Zoe, always the bridesmaid...

My Baby blues are good to go!

I shouldn't really say that as Zoe ends up getting more face time than Wyatt.  As the puker and screamer of the duo, she spends a great deal of not-so-quality time with dear old Mom and Dad.  It still astounds me a) how much she can throw up and still gain weight and b) how LOUD she is.  Recently, she's managed to connect her hand to her mouth and we thought "oh good, now she can calm herself that way".  No, sorry.  She's managed to find a way to put her hand in her mouth and make herself EVEN LOUDER.  Apparently that was what she was missing;  amplification.  I guess to offset that (and to ensure we didn't leave her in a basket on the neighbour's doorstep) she learned how to giggle this morning.  A cute little "hee hee hee" that goes with her face-splitting grin.  She is cute, I'll give her that.

Is that a smile? Not the full one, but one nevertheless...

Developmentally, they both seem to be right in the "six weeks adjustment" area.  There are certain things that she is better at, and certain things that he is better at.  He babbles and coos more often while she is better with the eye contact and specific noises.  I'm trying to get them both to grasp at toys and I'm encouraging them to spend more "tummy time" and lift themselves up.  Wyatt seems to be the one closest to rolling over at present and is spending more and more time awake, which is fantastic.  I can't tell you how encouraging it is to have his sweet little eyes locked on me for minutes at a time as we interact with one another. 

I'm doing much better these days as well.  We're getting a little more sleep on the whole as they can push that 1am feed to 2 or 3am on average and to 5am on a good day (they generally eat around 9 or 10 before bed).  The days that they sleep through the night are few and far between, but they are there, which means there is a light at the end of the tunnel for all of us.  Well, until they start teething... (shudder).  The hormones are still horrendous, but I think I've figured out how to ride them out for the most part.  Thankfully, caffeine has been put back on the menu (along with the occasional beer) in small, yet well timed doses.  I'm not sure if it's a side effect of the hormones or what but I can enjoy a little treat without the fear of PVC's.  Even the tiniest bit of caffeine, chocolate or alcohol would get my heart tripping up, but for now it seems ok.  I'd like to think my organs got together and lifted the sanctions on the holy trinity.  "Dood!  We have to give her something!"  I kind of overdid it on the chocolate a few weeks ago... my weight started to creep up again as I was self-medicating with the lovely stuff.  I am happy to report with the advent of more sleep (and getting out to Mother Goose), we are back on track and down to our pre-pregnancy weight again.  Yay!  It's nice to hear things like "I think you've lost weight since this morning".  :)

Now the trick becomes getting as much time and effort into them before I have to go back to work.  I would love to take the full year off with them but unfortunately I have to disagree with Jessie J here... it is all about the money.  Hubby will thankfully take the second half as I return in September.  At least I get to start them on some cereal and get Quinn back to school first.  Should be interesting as I will have to take a Medela break every four hours...

"Head and shoulders,  knees and toes..."   Right now I think we have all these things under control.  (Until the next crisis, that is.)  For now tho', I'll just keep plugging on.  Even the bad days have their good points; a little smile here, a little development there.  The laundry will always be there, the dishes will always need doing and the floor will always need to be swept. Our time together is flowing past at an alarming rate... You'll forgive me then, if I choose instead to gaze into two little sets of eyes; one blue and one brown, and listen to two little sweet voices babble and coo.  Eyes, ears, mouth and nose.