And you thought eating just one Lay's potato chip was hard

We are about two weeks away from the twins' first birthday, and I don't want to be premature on calling this, but it appears as though we will all actually live to see that day.  I have been fortunate to read a lot of insightful posts reflecting on lessons learned about raising twins through the first 12 months of life.  This will not be one of those posts.  Instead, I created a list in the hopes of normalizing what new twin mommies are going through, and giving the rest of the world a glimpse into this challenge.

So here it is: Ten things that are easier than surviving the first year of parenting multiples.

1. Earning 100% on every quiz, test, and paper in an advanced college organic chemistry class.

2. Finding the perfect birthday gift for your sister/BFF/mother/grandma who already has everything and has returned every present you bought her for the past 10 years.

3. Becoming fluent in Kamassian, an extinct language of Russia whose last native speaker died in 1989.

4. Painting your toenails and fingernails, with accuracy, while sitting in complete darkness next to a humming bee's nest.

5. Losing the last 20 10 pounds of baby weight.

6. Convincing your 3-year-old that he doesn't really want to watch Little Einsteins for the umpteenth time, but would instead be happier catching the latest episode of What Not To Wear.

7. Identifying all symbolic objects and allegorical relationships in the book "Lord of the Flies" without buying Cliffs Notes or consulting Wikipedia.

8. Fitting into your skinny jeans, when you have your period and just polished off an entire can of Pringles (washed down with some Coke and a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups).

9. Composing a blog post, with actual sentences that make actual sense, when you've had 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep only a handful of times in the past year.

10. Finding true and everlasting love as a contestant on The Bachelor.

And because it's easier than writing actual sentences that make actual sense, now some photos.

The best three years that have ever kicked my butt

I can think of no better way to jump back into blogging after an inadvertent dry spell than to celebrate the birthday of my dear sweet Bean.  Yesterday he turned three, and it was unexpectedly very emotional for me -- much harder than two, or even one.  He has officially graduated from "toddler" to "preschooler," creeping dangerously closer to being "school age" when he will head to kindergarten with a Spiderman backpack, freshly sharpened Number 2 pencils, and a cell phone with a Cee Lo Green ringback tone.  *sigh*  They grow up so fast.

In the meantime, though, I am enjoying the fleeting moments when our home and family is still the center of his world.  Bean is such a bright child, a thoughtful child, a careful child.  He is creative, inquisitive, funny, and snuggly. The past year hasn't been easy for him, with me on bedrest and then welcoming two infant brothers into the family.  He struggles with Nix and Gax at times, as they require a lot of attention and have now taken a decided interest in Bean and anything he is doing.  But Bean will also comfort them when they cry, share his toys (when he feels like it), feed them tiny bits of his dinner, and make silly noises that make them giggle.  We do our best to show Bean that he is still special and still valued; I can only hope the message is received.

Bean's favorite activities these days are playing with Thomas the Train and cars, drawing pictures, cooking, asking "Why?", avoiding his brothers, listening to music, doing puzzles with Bumpa, taking baths, begging for treats, cuddling with Mom or Grandma, building towers with Legos, playing Mario Kart with his Dad, refusing to go potty on the toilet, playing with playdough, and watching television (especially Little Einsteins, Super Why, and Cat in the Hat) and movies (Cars and Toy Story are favorites).  He is currently a picky eater, although he seems to be getting more open-minded again.  His favorite foods are cinnamon waffles, pancakes with chocolate chips, mac and cheese, spaghetti, quesadillas with salsa, grilled cheese, strawberry smoothies, "skinny noods" (i.e. skinny noodles, or raw angelhair pasta), Chicken McNuggets, fries, fruit snacks, and ice cream.  Obviously, he has good taste, just like his mama.  Except he's still in the stage when weight gain is a GOOD thing.  Until you find yourself on the Maury Povich Show as the 250 pound 4-year-old who smokes two packs of cigarettes a day.  Or wait, I'm mixing up my episodes.  Nevermind.

I am so grateful that Bean is my son.  I was happy with my life before he was born -- married to my soulmate, pursuing a career that I loved, and sleeping.  (Oh the sleeping!)  But becoming a mother has given me a deep sense of peace and contentment that I never could have imagined.  Which is saying a lot in this household these days.  But back to Bean, this post belongs to him.  Happy birthday, my amazing boy.  I wish you a lifetime of happiness.  And know that I will be here for you every step of the way, with fruit snacks and cuddles whenever you need them.

I've jotted down a few Beanisms, as I always enjoy reading these on other mommy blogs (especially Alana's!).  It's better when said in his tiny, sweet, high little voice, but this will have to do!

ON LOGIC

Me (trying to prepare him for ditching his nap/night binky on his birthday): Bean, when we turn three years old, we don't use a binky anymore.

Bean (with a bright smile): No, silly mommy. I'm turning three and I have a binky every day!


ON KEEPING IN TOUCH

Me: Honey, are you ready to go downstairs with me?

Bean (looking over at me from the computer area): No, I'm going to stay up here and do emails.


ON GIFT GIVING

Bean (while getting on his PJs for bed): Daddy, what do you want for Christmas next year?

DH: I'm not sure. I got everything I wanted this year.

Bean (passes gas and grins goofily): Do you want my farts for Christmas?


ON ROLE MODELS

Bumpa: Bean, your little brothers really look up to you.

Bean (considering this, with furrowed brow): Yeah, and they look up to the ceiling, too.


ON SPELLING

Bean (looking at name tags on a table at preschool): Mommy, which one is mine?

Me (picking up his tag, which is decorated with animal stickers): Here it is, sweetie.

Bean (looks at the letters carefully): Mom, my name starts with "Cow"?


ON FASHION

Bean (from the back seat of my mom's car): Grandma, where did you get that coat?

Grandma: Oh, do you like it?

Bean: Grandma, I just asked where you got it.


ON SKILLS AND ABILITIES
Bean (walking to my mom's car): Grandma, can we listen to "Mumford and Sons" in your car?

Grandma: I'm sorry, honey, I don't have "Mumford and Sons" in my car.  Maybe you can make me a CD.

Bean: Grandma, I'm just a kid. I can't make a CD.


And finally, some pictures of his big day.

DH and I got him a Batman tricycle.  As soon as summer arrives in Seattle and it stops raining, he can ride it around the neighborhood.  Those will be a fun four days.

Grandma and Bumpa came over and brought more gifts, including Gordon the Train.  He's the same color as Thomas, but he's longer.  So naturally we need both.

Here is a picture of me and DH and Bean. Are you shocked, to be getting such a gift?!  I bet you think it's your birthday too.  But it's not.

We had a birthday party for him at the local kids' gym where he attends class once a week with his Dad.  It was an absolute blast, and a stress-free party for me.  No cleaning, no entertaining, no serving.  I still managed to forget drinks for everyone, because I am talented like that, but as no one collapsed from dehydration, I'm going to call it a success.

My reward for the day: his smile!

I'm proven right, for once

Today I turn 31.

Part of me is a little sad, I'm having Round Two of mourning the lack of celebration that occurred on my 30th birthday.  Not allowed to sit up while on bedrest, permitted only a small piece of cake due to my gestational diabetes.  Because you know what?  I was really, really looking forward to turning 30, and I wanted to do something special.  I've always said that my 30s were going to be My Decade.  The 20s had their high points, but they were mostly marked by going to school and struggling to conceive.  Ugh and double ugh.  I mean, I did overcome both of those things -- I am exceptionally brilliant and I have more children than you can shake a stick at (believe me, I've tried).  But still.

As I detailed in my birthday post last year, I had very specific plans for my 20s that didn't turn out like I had expected.  My plan for my 30s, though, was to enjoy the spoils that I worked so hard for in the previous decade.

A couple of days ago, while driving the twins to our co-op preschool, one of my favorite songs came on the radio: "Long December" by Counting Crows.  It's beautiful and emotional, filled with regret and loss and tempered hope.  Or as my Dad would call it, a "whiny song."  As soon as I heard it, I turned it up.

But you know... I just didn't feel it.  My life is missing the deep angst, the unfulfilled longing that I used to have, which served as a connection to the lyrics.  My hope has come true.  I still have dreams for myself in the future, but right now, at this very moment, I feel like I am in the right place.  I am madly in love with my husband.  I am having a blast raising my children (when I don't feel like making a mad dash to Canada).  My wonderful parents are present in our lives.  This is a temporary time in my life, and it comes with many struggles, but overall it's glorious.

It's my 30s.

And the verdict after one year: it's all that I had wanted, and more.

Happy birthday to me.

This year?  I'm eating the whole damn cake.

Because nothing puts you in the mood for cheesecake like talking about your uterus

As I'm sure you can imagine, I enjoy getting out of the house without my children.  The other day when I sustained a Random and Bizarre Finger Injury that required me to go to the urgent care clinic (yes, that is the second Random and Bizarre Finger Injury I've sustained since the twins were born, in case anyone is keeping track), I eagerly grabbed my book and a water bottle for an enjoyable two hours spent not responding to the constant needs of three men-in-training.  All the better when getting out of the house doesn't involve sharp and excruciating pain, such as our recent Seattle Bloggers' Night Out. It was a smashing success, and I really enjoyed chatting with Katie and Jenn and Kendra while wolfing down a fancy dinner and dessert. There was also an Anonymous Blogger who attended, but I will not share her name, as obviously she is embarrassed to admit being seen in public with me (or so I deduce is her reason for staying behind the curtain).  Naturally, I don't hold this against her.  Anyway, all four of them are inspiring, fabulous women and I am lucky to have met them.

We had such a great time that I begged them we agreed to do it again in the spring.  Stay tuned for more details!

To segue into a topic that's been on my mind, I wanted to share a question that Anonymous Blogger asked me over cheesecake that has stuck in my mind.  (Much like said cheesecake has stuck in my thighs.)  While the rest of us are parenting after infertility, Anonymous Blogger is now embarking on her first IVF cycle.  After listening to me complain about how much harder it is to have twinfants than a singleton (do I ever talk about anything else, good lord!), she turned to me and said, "So how much should I push [my husband and doctor] to transfer one embryo instead of two?"  (Two being the standard number of embryos transferred during an IVF cycle, which contributes to the high incidence of twins resulting from the process.)

I was sort of tongue-tied by that question, and I did my best to answer, although I'm sure it wasn't helpful at all.  For me, this question of TO TWINS or NOT TO TWINS (as much as it's a choice) ties into the two extreme categories of responses I get when someone finds out that I am a mother of multiples.

Response one:  "Oh my God.  I would have killed myself if I found out I was having twins."  (Yes, someone actually said this to me.)

Response two:  "Oh, lucky you!  I always wanted twins!  I think it would be SO. MUCH. FUN."

Like many unexpected turns that life takes, you can't categorize having twins as entirely good or entirely bad -- but people's reactions always seem to fall squarely on one side or the other.  I'm not sure I'm giving the balanced view on my blog, as I do seem to continually mention the high stress of having three under three.  And truly, it has been difficult.  Difficult to get pregnant, difficult to stay pregnant, and difficult to parent two newborns.  Another multiple mama blogger (I believe it was Jamie) said it best: two infants need two mothers.  Plain and simple.

Now that we have hit 9 months, the twins seem to have settled into a decent sleeping pattern, and life has gotten easier.  (Two naps each at approximately the same time, and 1-2 night wakings.)  It's only RELATIVELY easier, of course.  I'm still ready for a shot of hard liquor by 8 am 4 pm.  But in all seriousness, my feelings on having twins has completely changed since I saw two blobs on the ultrasound monitor and muttered a swear word.

Having twins is a.m.a.z.i.n.g.  It's a shite-load of work, no doubt.  It means a lot of sacrifices all around.  But the reward is that I have two human beings to love more than life itself.  They make me laugh constantly -- they are each such a gift.  And now that they are noticing each other and interacting more?  I can practically feel my heart squeeze with joy as they "play" together.  It blows my mind to watch them develop so differently, despite their similar beginnings.  They shared a womb, now they share an infancy... I'm not sure if they'll be friends as they grow up, but I hope so.  I hope they play together and support each other.  I imagine Gax standing up for Nix on the playground, and later Nix comforting Gax when a girl breaks his heart.  God willing, they will travel through life knowing that they have a twin in the world who will always be there if needed.

The main reason that I would recommend a single embryo transfer during IVF is because the pregnancy is more dangerous for mama and babies.  Too dangerous to consider?  No, certainly not in a healthy woman.  Most mamas and most babies are just fine.  But without a doubt, it's harder on your body and it's harder on your kids.  Your risk of dangers like gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia, preterm labor, and stretch marks (GOOD GOD THE STRETCH MARKS!) increases.  If you thought you had to take care of yourself when pregnant with one baby, it's even more vital with two.  I ate salad and whole grain bread for lunch, people.  SALAD AND WHOLE GRAIN BREAD!  With not so much as a giant brownie to wash it down.  I mentioned the sacrifices, right?

So I'm not really sure where I was going with all this.  Another side effect of having twins is double mommy brain caused by double sleep deprivation.  Not having done IVF before, I can't really advise on a single embryo transfer versus a double.  Transferring two is the norm because IVF is such a gruelling, expensive endeavor.  Doctors and hopeful couples want to maximize the chance of success while minimizing the occurrence of multiples, and two embryos is generally a good number for that.  If you can achieve a singleton pregnancy, that's the ideal.  But if you do end up knocked up with twins, please take care of yourself.  When you make it to the parenting stage, it will be difficult, but the rewards are so indescribably beautiful that you wouldn't have it any other way.

I know I wouldn't.