I Want to Believe

Grammy in January with Luke and Kate. She really wanted to get to hold both babies and did a great job!



Grammy in October with all of our children. The babies were too wiggly for her to hold both, but she got to hold Kate.

It's funny. On Christmas Eve I couldn't sleep and felt the urge to share with others my feelings of this Christmas. So I blogged, and it was exactly midnight. The next morning, after the chaos of opening the kind and generous packages from Santa, we got a phone call that Grammy (Steve's grandmother) had passed away around 11:30 the previous night.

I'm not a deeply spiritual or religious person, I'll just put that out there, but I want to believe that I was moved by something to write that night. Whether it was just she was on my mind, or something much more divine, I will probably never know. I just know I had to write a bit about the woman whom I admired so greatly. She was the pillar of the Weller family and a spunky lady. I loved spending time with her because she always had a great sense of humor and an educated mind. She would read four or five books at a time and was much more travelled than most people I know. But her love for her family is what I enjoyed the most, she truly was proud of each of her three children, four grand children, and eleven great-grandchildren.

I have always considered God to be sort of like a Santa Claus. As children, we believe there is a piece of magic coming into our house every December to reward us for our good behavior. He reminds us to give to others and to be thankful for our blessings. As adults, many believe the same thing. There is a spiritual magic which will reward us with eternal life if we behave. God reminds us to give to others and be thankful for our blessings.

I'm not saying there isn't a God, because I am far from an expert on the subject. I go to church frequently to seek a higher power with skepticism, but still I go in hopes I will find Him. I'm also not saying there isn't a Santa, I believe there is. When my children ask me if I believe in Santa, my response is always the truthful, "I believe in the magic Santa brings." The glad tidings and joy of giving in the Christmas season is very magical to me and something I look forward to each year.

Go forth in your glory Grammy. I hope you find your beloved husband, parents and sister in eternal life. You will be missed here on Earth by all you have left behind, but your spirit lives in each of us whose lives you have touched.

Christmas Eve 2008

It's midnight, exactly, on Christmas morning. Santa has just arrived, after waiting for our little seven year-old to fall asleep. Steve and I can't decide if it was the anticipation or the skepticism which kept him awake, but I'm leaning more on the side of anticipation. As a child, I remember laying in bed on Christmas Eve, remembering a story a neighbor friend had told me about seeing Rudolph's nose in the sky. He was about four years older than I was and must have known the truth about Santa, but he continued to play along for my sake and probably saved me for about two more Christmases.

I don't remember how I found out about Santa, just remember the let down I felt when my younger brother got lots of toys and I got clothes. The disappointment I felt, along with the guilt I laid on my mother, was thick, and I dread that first Christmas when one of my boys doesn't believe. Thankfully I have the Santa picture (see previous post) which should save us for another year.

This year feels like a Christmas like I've never had, almost like the first Christmas I found out there was no Santa Claus for a couple of reasons. The first is the first Christmas we haven't gone to our parent's house or had some guests on Christmas morning. When we lived in Alexandria, my parents always arrived before the boys woke up and we all opened our gifts together. Since moving to the country, Steve's parents have always come in and spent the morning with us. As a family with five children, we certainly are not going to have a boring morning, but it does feel weird to be doing this on our own. I guess we are grown-ups now!

The other way this is not a normal Christmas is my heart is very heavy. Steve's grandmother is very ill, in the hospital from a life-threatening stroke. Barring some miracle, she will lose her life very soon. Although she is not my grandmother by blood, she feels like one to me. She has lived an incredible life and every time I am with her I learn something new. She has kept a daily journal for more than eighty years, chronicling every detail of her life including where she has slept. She has been to six of the seven continents and continues to amaze me with her adventures. I love this woman, she is the one I have always wanted to name my daughter after and thankfully was given the chance. My heart is breaking for her pending loss, I ache to have my children and myself know her much better.

Christmas is a special time for me to remember all I love and all who have touched my heart. To my dad, to Grammy, to my children and to my husband...I love you all! Merry Christmas!

Reflection

I have mentioned in a couple of past blogs we have done a lot of reflecting these past couple of months, starting in mid-October just about the time I went on bed rest. The last two months were the worst part of our entire "twin experience", mainly because I was in so much pain and couldn't do anything but lay in bed. It was hard for a girl who gets cabin fever the day after a snowstorm.

I asked myself a couple of days ago, "What was the worse part of the babies' first year?" As I reflected, I thought about how lucky we were. Our hospital stay was short, our healthy babies came home after three days in the hospital (no NICUs for us) and I didn't have a C-section (just a little surgery to make sure this didn't happen again). Neither Kate nor Luke had reflux, and were relatively healthy thanks to the Synagis shot (at $1,400 per shot per baby per month...thank goodness for health insurance). The big boys were very good helpers and adjusted very well to our new lives. Relatively, we dodged a lot of bullets.

But it's not easy. Trying to nurse two babies, whether singly or tandem, is hard work. If you nurse one at a time, it takes forever, and if you nurse them at the same time you feel like a milk machine. Transporting the babies required some planning. There were many times you could find me at the grocery store pushing the babies' stroller and pulling the shopping cart. I have a new-found appreciation for people in wheelchairs, navigating the world around ramps and elevators is not easy. The sleeping was difficult, but the babies were pretty easy-going about sleeping on the go, and they slept through the night at an early age.

So what's the answer? What was the hardest part? I think it was the day after Christmas. Christmas morning I woke up with a sore throat which got progressively worse throughout the day. The next day I felt miserable, I think getting up with the babies, in addition to the stress of the holiday, had finally caught up with me. Steve's Aunt Judy and Uncle Ken, whom I adore, were visiting us as well as his parents and I couldn't keep my eyes open. Finally Judy came over and told me the babies were fine and I could go take a nap. I think I slept for three hours, the best and longest stretch of sleep I'd had for six weeks! It was glorious! I woke up feeling so much better and totally recovered a couple of days later.

It was only one day and it seems so trivial, but it really was when I felt the worst and wondered if I was ever going to make it. I felt like it wasn't fair I was sick when I couldn't sleep and had to take care Kate and Luke. I'm sure a lot of moms feel this way, but it was compounded by my five week-old twins.

Anyway, I am amazed by our twins and that we actually made it! If this was the worst, it couldn't have been that bad!

This Will Make 'Em Believe!

My friend turned me on to this website which will take a photo you download and super-impose any of about 50 Santas onto it. You can then save the picture and print it or put it on your computer. Here's ours:

It costs about $10, but for another year for Kyle to believe, totally worth it!

Now I just gotta get off before he sees it! Merry Christmas!

What if?

Such innocent looking faces.

Afternoons around our house are usually pretty quiet. We've just all eaten lunch, so no one is hungry. Lance is home from school and needs a bit of relaxing in front of the TV until his brothers get home from school. And the babies are playing before their second nap. They are usually quite content to play with each other and are in great moods. It's one of my favorite times of the day, time I can run some laundry up the steps or get on the computer for a minute.

Today I sat down on the couch ready a three day-old newspaper and looks up at my smiling, happy little babies. Luke was pushing around the stools we have set at the island on our kitchen and Kate was quietly unloading everything from my purse. They were content, no body was in any danger, so I let them continue.

As I watched Luke try to push the stool over his sister and Kate pulling each Kleenex out of the wrapper, I wondered what would happen if I just let them be. What kind of mess would be left in the wake of two babies on their own in their "childproof" surroundings?

I'll let you ponder that because I need to go chase after Kate who has figured out how to get the top off my lipstick and headed towards my off-white carpet and Luke who is eating the dog food. While you're pondering...would you also let me know which one I should go after first? Thanks!

The Sadness Continues

Today is the third anniversary of my father's passing. Although the raw pain has numbed, my heart is still loaded with sadness. I am weak with sadness to know he will not be able to see my boys grow up , much less the joy he is missing with the two new grandchildren he never knew. Losing him was the worst thing I have had happen in my life and I miss him dearly.

I keep a journal next to my bed. It started as a "Mommy Journal" filled with tidbits about my children and about being a mom. It has evolved into a place where I write personal bits about my entire life, not just about being a mom. I wrote this a while back and thought I would share it today as a tribute to my dad.

DAD
You taught me the difference between right and wrong, left and right.
You laughed at my jokes because you actually understood them.
You handed my children the most precious gift of all, your time and love.
You gave me the strength to be the person I am and the aspiration to be more.
You showed me what unconditional love it.
You gave me the opportunity to tell you "I love you" through my words and actions.
You gave me the courage to write this.
You showed me the beauty of this world. But I wish you didn't have to suffer.
You enlightened me of the appreciation of life. But I long to have you here.
You showed me complete determination to fight your fight with courage. But I wish you had won.
You told me it would be okay, it wasn't. But you are full of dignity and pain free.
You gave me your whole heart, now a piece of mine is missing. But I have the strength to carry on.
You said "Hi" to me that awful morning. But I never got a chance to say "good bye".
Good bye Daddy.