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The Letter S.

What Kind of People Own Dogs...

...that look like marshmallows?


People who own white leather couches and enjoy using flowy script fonts?

Dreams

I have been thinking a lot about what the coming years hold for us. I envision days spent working in the yard with my two tiny companions nearby, or exploring new sights together. I envision feeding tiny mouths and minds as we grow and learn together. I envision finishing my stories, not for fame or money, but because I find pleasure in them.

Life these days really is a dream. My days are filled with arms full of babies and learning how to do things one-handed or while feeding two hungry mouths or doing things a little at a time over several hours or days. They are filled with cheering over poopey diapers, guiding curious fingers away from delicate and shiny eyeballs, and discovering precious smiles and giggles hidden inside of tender sprouting souls. They are filled with desperate attempts to consume scraps of sleep, only to lie awake watching the monitor for any signs of movement or flipping through baby photos and videos on my phone.

These are precious days, collectively slipping by much too quickly, and sleep is a bargain price for the opportunity to hear a new coo or watch tiny hands begin to move with purpose and intent. Every new stage breaks my heart, knowing that I may never walk this road again, but at the same time I eagerly await the next stage. I long to hear tiny voices and watch wobbly knees support first steps. I anticipate looks of surprise during holidays or camping trips or trips to the zoo.

It's sacrificing dependent fragility for independent mobility, and being unwilling to cheat myself of the smallest crumb as I lick the plate clean of every precious moment of motherhood. I stand ready to guide two tiny lives, a willing and able partner at my side; uncertain of what the end result may be, but willing to invest myself completely in the adventure. My long awaited journey to the magnificent laboratory of motherhood has finally begun.

This is How We Roll

I have a standing lunch appointment with my girls. We're pretty tight.

In other news, our bathroom remodel is going well. Here is some of the creative tile-setting involved:

Getting back in shape after a c-section is no easy task. Things don't look quite like they used to, and my muscles are all stretched out from looking like this: 

On a personal note, I am getting some excellent empathy training. My doc finally approved exercise two weeks ago. My first workout was last week and my abs are officially trashed. I can't even do a sit-up. C explained that my muscles are like stretched out rubber bands. I have never had a belly before, so it's a new experience for me. I am not dieting because my milk production is finally satisfactory, so given my choice of priorities, it will take a while before I am back to my former size. 

I have managed to fit in eight Jillian workouts so far and recently added a light jog. I guess you could say that I get to have a real live Biggest Loser experience of my own! Needless to say, I will NOT be rocking a size 4 by my reunion in June (even if my some miracle I could lose the weight, my mega milk producers wouldn't allow for a top that size), but I WILL be the proud mama of two beautiful baby girls!

When to Cut Baby Fingernails?

I pull out the fingernail clippers. I hold a tiny hand in mine. I put the clippers next to a single tiny nail, and then I set the clippers down again. Yes, it's true, I can't bring myself to cut their nails, and so I cover them with mitties so they won't scratch each other or themselves. It's such a shame to cover those long, pretty fingers, so I ask you: When do you cut baby's nails (because filing takes FOREVER)?

This question brought to you by our sponsor, The Daily Snuggle:

Drunk

Motherhood is positively intoxicating. I used to believe that pregnancy and giving birth somehow defined a mother, or made it more real, but I now realize that this is not the case. Those are almost entirely separate events when it comes to the real experience of motherhood. I guess what I am saying is that however those babies or children wind up in your arms, there is this beautiful, magical day-to-day love affair that takes place. It happens each time eyes connect, or skin is brushed, or tiny ears respond to that familiar voice. It happens each time tiny lips try to imitate what your lips are doing, or tiny cries are met with loving arms. Motherhood is pure, concentrated heaven, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.