Category: raising twins

Dad’s visit Day two

July 21st, 2015
There’s two rules for the fake stream at the discovery museum, one, no climbing in the stream and two, have fun. I am in the process of getting Fiona’s shoes on and a few ladies are calling for my attention. Jack’s in the stream stomping his feet, I go over and take him out. He climbs right back in. My words “No, you can’t climb in the stream” mean absolutely nothing, it’s like I’m not talking at all. He gets pretty wet, but he’s not fazed. We go play in the outdoor tot area and I’ve never seen Jack have such a good time. He runs around climbing on the rope ladder, climbs up and down the soft steps, and plays in the tunnel. This is the highlight of the day because there’s a big dirty puddle inside! He’s so excited and so wet and dirty! Lucky I have a whole new outfit for him! My Dad and Betty are with us and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. My dad helps watch the babies, he follows them, holds their hand when I tell him to. He’s gentle and surprisingly present. He’s very quiet and reserved. He’s still a free loader, but he’s definitely on his best behavior. Betty keeps him on his toes with her regular prodding. It feels strange to call him grandpa. But for the second time since my mom died I felt like a daughter, the first time was with Bruce when he came to visit. There’s something about that, I can’t quiet explain it yet, but it’s a place of comfort. Even though I have no relationship with my Dad. I’m sure he’ll ask us for something in the near future, like money, and he doesn’t get a free pass for treating Danny and I the way he did. But the visits not as dreadful as I imagined it would be.
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PMS and Dad’s visit DAY ONE

July 20th, 2015
This will be one of those blog posts that people read and say “oh my gosh, you seem really stressed!” I do feel stressed today and I just can’t understand why Jack and Fiona can’t understand the toilet bowl cleaner and plunger are grost! Fiona had a HUGE poopy diaper, I have her on the changing table trying to clean her up and Jacks messing with the black rubber plunger. “NO Jack! That’s the most yucky thing you could possibly do!” He completely ignores me. I have a tantrum, “NO! Stop! WHY!” All while cleaning Fiona and keeping her still on the changing table. Snapping. It’s the most difficult time in a while with the double whammy of PMS and Perimenopause. I try not to talk too much about these issues to spare any male readers of this subject that is uniquely woman. But today I say screw it, sorry men I’m gonna lay a few things out there, I deserve a rant now and again. My first thought is “It’s not fair” this hormone stuff women have to go through. It’s extremely difficult, especially now with kids. I don’t think my husband understands how I feel, he just thinks I’m either in a bad mood or mad at him. I may be wrong of course, I haven’t asked him. When he asks how I slept I just say fine, I spare him the details of hourly episodes of extreme heat all up and down my legs and cheeks, sweat beads down my chest as I lay still and quiet in the night. Hormone fluctuations suck! What’s worst is the way I feel about the subject, or at least how I’ve been made to feel about the subject. With the “It’s just PMS” or “It sucks getting older” just writing these things off because only half the population gets them and they pass in time. Then I’m back to “normal” again. But PMS and Perimenopause are normal. It’s most uncomfortable for me but I constantly feel guilty about feeling this way, not being my bubbly self.

I have the added stress this week of my dad being in town. He called last night when he was dropped off at the motel by my brother. He said he was calling to say “Thank you for the accommodations.” But what he really wanted was Alan to go to his motel, pick him up, take him to store, “To get hangers for one thing” and drive him back to the motel. After holding the phone away from my mouth to have one of the best uncontrollable laughs I’ve had in a long time, I said “No, sorry.” I told him he could walk, it’s across the street, but he said Betty’s breathing problem prevented them from doing that. I’m going to pick them up today and drop them off at the store while I do Yoga. I’m dreading this week. I rarely dread weeks, it usually only happens around family stuff. I’ll be fine though, I just might feel guilty because I am not going to be my dad and Betty’s personal taxi cab or event planner. I just can’t do it, especially with jack and Fiona. It’s too much.
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Walks to the park and trying to remember things about my dad when I was a kid.

July 17th, 2015
I put Fiona in the carrier on the walk down to the park this morning. I held Jack’s hand as he traversed the curbs, picked up handfuls of wood chips, and finally when my most patient self ran out of patience I picked Jack up, feeling equal weight on my back and front sides. I imagined myself living in a time or place where this would be the common way women carried children. I’m racking my mind trying to remember my dad in my life as a child. I can only come up with moments, dark moments, blurry moments. Once sitting at a round damp wood table on a chair that seemed like it would be in a bar. My dad was talking to a private detective who wore a check shirt and had squinty eyes. He told my dad about the roaches that were found in my dad’s stolen truck. I said, “Gross, why were there roaches in his truck?” I imagined inside his camper shell being covered with roaches and old food. The detective said “No, not those kind of roaches.” I was then given an explanation of the type of roaches they were, not really understanding, I must have been about eight. I remember the Louis Lamour paperbacks I would find in the mailbox with a note attached, “Jen” on the nights my dad was supposed to pick us up. When he didn’t show for over an hour my mom broke down and took me and Danny out for spaghetti and ice cream. Did he expect us to just wait around for him? Danny is on his way up to Reno right now to see my Dad get honored in the weight loss competition tonight. Then Sunday he is driving Betty and my dad down here. They will stay in a motel for the first five nights, then with us Friday to Monday. It’s gonna be a freak show. They stay up at night fiddling around and sleep during most of the morning. He’s my dad. With his grunting and consistent lateness. I wonder what Jack and Fiona will think of them? On our way back from the park I tried to let both babies walk back up the hill, but Jack sat down and cried because he didn’t want to leave the park. I put him in the carrier and let Fiona walk. She made it the whole way up the hill. She picked up a tiny arbutus flower, touched the different grasses, and pet our neighbors dog Kirby. It must have seemed like a great adventure to them. When we got back to the house they relaxed and looked at books, had a snack of avocado, pear and cheese, and are now taking a nap. I wonder if they are dreaming.
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