I call her Tonya.

I call her Tonya.  I’m not sure why.  I guess she just seems like a Tonya.  Now that I think about it, I’ve never actually met a Tonya.  Anyway, she’s with me everyday.  Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.  I grow very tired of looking at her day in and day out.  But I don’t make her leave either.  She reminds me of the terrible.  More specifically, being pregnant with them. 

She reminds me of the c section I had to get them out of me.  The fears before hand and the joys of hearing their giant screams for the first time.  She reminds me of the pain before and after.

Tonya is my twin skin.  My rolls of stretch marks and scars.  A reminder of battle my body went through to bring life to these two, amazing, energetic little boys.  A reminder of what was and what is now.  (I was no super model before).

Sure there are days (more then I’d like to admit), that Tonya and I fight.  I do my best to hide her and cover her up.  Some days I curse her every existence and other days I just say fuck it, what’s up, Tonya.  Most days I don’t even really think about her too much.  (I don’t have time to be overly critical of myself). I really just focus on the basics, brushing my hair, teeth, bathing, shaving my legs.  To worry about what Tonya is doing is a bit of a luxury these days.

So really what I’m saying is ladies, give her a name.  Become one with your twin skin.  Eat healthy, exercise but if she’s not going to go away, embrace her.

I mean come on!!! She is the result of these two stinking cute tornados.

Motherhood 2.0

It was a beautiful spring day in south Jersey today. The terrible and I went to the park. They are funny there. They don’t care about the other kids. They are on a mission. A mission to discover as much as humanly possible. With that in mind, I took them on a nature walk. As I was watching them climb the hill ahead of us, I realized that there was nowhere I’d rather be.

Three years ago, I would have been at a happy hour. I would have been kicking back with a beer discussing how we can fix the Phillies. We would be laughing having the time of our lives. Not ever realizing how life could be so different.

I don’t think you can remotely understand how your life changes after you find out you’re pregnant. And then after that baby (babies) is/are born. Once upon a time, I thought we were busy. We weren’t. We were selfish. We had every right to be. Life was about the next adventure, the next party, the next big thing. We didn’t have to worry about sleepless nights or ear infections, baby proofing, toddler beds, stranger danger, or diapers.

To someone without children, those things may seem like a bad nightmare. And sometimes it is, but I wouldn’t, couldn’t change it for the world.

Motherhood is amazing. In the time it takes to pee on a stick and have a positive sign pop up, you have changed. It’s no longer about just you. It’s the both of you, (or three) of you. Fathers have nine months to come to terms with the idea. Mothers don’t. We worry, the instant the plus sign pops up. We become someone else. We become mommy. We may not be ready but we have no choice. We slowly transform into entirely different person. It happens. Our childless friends and family can’t understand they haven’t been through it. They are still selfish. Searching for that next adventure. And that’s good. They should. They should embrace life. Sleep late, go to happy hour, and party like it’s 1999.

As I walked behind the terrible laughing that them now running down the hill, I thought, my life is perfect.

Tears of…

The terrible turned eighteen months today.  I was thinking back over the last two years and what a strange trip it’s been.

Three Christmas’ ago, I peed on a stick and a little positive sign popped up.  After seven little pee sticks I decided I was pregnant.  I cried.  Tears, big, sloppy, ugly tears of pure fear. I guess a little excitement too.  Mostly fear and anxiety.

Fast forward to saint patty’s day 2011.  Congratulations!  You’re having twins!  What?  More tears.  A lot more tears.  Bigger, wetter, uglier tears.

July 25th, 2011.  They come six weeks earlier than expected.  Yup, you guessed it, more tears.  I cried myself to sleep everyday for the two weeks they spent in the NICU.  Pure sadness.  Pretending everything is great for family and friends is really difficult when your face is so swollen from crying.

Sometime around October of 2011 the terrible developed colic.  Tears of frustration, and exhaustion rolled down my cheeks every single night.  Anyone who has had a colicy baby knows how difficult maintaining sanity is.  Imagine two at once.  Just imagine it.  I’ll give you a moment….

Then one day no more tears.  No more sadness.  Just survival.  Get through the day, get to bed, do it all again tomorrow.  Sometime around their first birthday, it started to get really fun.  They started walking, and playing, and discovering.

So, eighteen months later with a lot more gray hairs;  I still cry.  Only, it’s tears of laughter.  The terrible are hilarious.  Jason and I find the humor in our crazy life.  We have to.  We wouldn’t want it any other way.  We couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Ben reading while picking his nose

Alex stuck in a wagon, again.

Spoiled rotten terrible.

My children received a ridiculous amount of presents from santa this year.  More than any child or in our case children, could possibly play with in a day. Side note: we are extremely blessed with amazing people who spoil our kids rotten.   Thank you all.

I spend upwards of two hours cleaning up toys everynight.  While cleaning up tonight, I started thinking.  How do I teach them (the terrible), that it’s not the stuff that matters?  It’s the moments, the connections, the memories that we make everyday, that’s important in life.

Of course they are always going to want stuff.  The newest, the latest toy.  That’s just being a kid.  I want to raise my boys to be good, giving and kind.  I don’t want them to feel defined by their “stuff”.  I don’t want them to define others by their “stuff”. 

At seventeen months, I don’t really need to worry about these questions right now.  But I will.  And five years will sneak up on me before I realize it.  Then what?

So here’s what I think we are going to do.  Birthdays will always be small.  We will pick a charity each year and donate to it instead of gifts.  Of course, mommy and daddy will buy them birthday gifts.  We did this for their first birthday and it was a huge success.  Then at Christmas time, we will let the spoilers do their spoiling.  (This includes mom and dad).   I can’t help but to love seeing their faces when they open a new toy or book.  It’s pretty amazing. 

Just look how happy they are to see santa.

Laura….

Happy New Year!

We have reached some pretty awesome milestones in 2012.  We  had to say goodbye to some dear friends and family.  But we also said Hello! to new friends and family.

I cried tears of laughter, joy, and sorrow.  I watched my premie little babies turn into little boys.  We went from rolling, to crawling, to walking to running everywhere.  We started with dada, and ended the year with “sit there puppy”.

I watched in horror as lives were shattered.  Natural or man made, my heart broke into a thousand pieces.  I vowed to do more, I could have done more. 

We started the year with acid reflux and ended the year with a peanut allergy.  We celebrated the big 01 has well as 34 and 33.  ( although most days that feels like 84 and 83, respectfully).  We watched loved ones get married, engaged, divorced, and expand their families. 

We had hard days, and not too many easy days.  Still, we laughed everyday.  We talked, shouted, whispered, and screamed.  We loved with all our hearts. 

Thank you.  Thank you, everyone that has touched my life, that showed kindness to my children, and that laughed at my husband’s jokes. 

It’s time to put 2012 behind and ring in 2013.  Here’s to another crazy year with new milestones, new adventures, and new bad jokes from my husband.

Love you all.

Laura….

Those teenage summer days.

It is an absolutely gorgeous day in south jersey today.  On my way home from work, I had the Windows down and the stereo up.  Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” came on.  Anyone who knows me, know I LOVE Billy Joel.  I love Billy Joel for a lot of reasons, but I think the biggest reason is; it brings me back to my teenage years.    

On a day like today, we would be on our way to LBI, an island south of all those awful jersey shore people.  It is quiet and family friendly.  It’s where I spent most of every summer as a kid.  As a teenager, we would go down, I would sit on the beach and pretend to watch my friends surf.  I wouldn’t actually watch them, I was too busy reading a magazine or just sleeping.  Listening to the waves crash against the shore still puts me to sleep today.  We talked about our dreams and what amazing lives we were going to have.  Life was good.  Life was great.  Life was simple.

As I was driving home in lunch hour traffic, I remembered the excitement, the feeling of having my whole life ahead of me.  There were a few musts for me back then.  No kids, ever.  I didn’t like them and didn’t want them.  I was going to live in New York City.  Nyc always fascinated me.  Something to do anytime of the day or night, the people, the traffic, the noise.  I was going to be someone.  I didn’t know who yet, but I was going to make an impact on this world.  Which leads right into the next must…no marriage for me.  Why would I want to answer to anyone, after having to answer to my parents all of my life? 

Oh my, how things have changed.  We all grew up, most of us got married, some of us had kids, and I never got that shitty studio apartment in the city.  I’m proud of who I’ve become and I’m proud of who my friends grew up to be.  The question is, does my 17 year old self, feel the same way?  She’s still hiding inside me somewhere.  But I think she’s happy for me, for us.

Laura….