one singular sensation

I should be sleeping now.

Around 11:30 I began rousing from sleep. Often mothers of newborns will find that before waking you up, the infants cries will first penetrate your dreams. One moment you are in high school again with a friend you have forgotten, and the next asking your 11th grade guidance counselor who brought a crying infant to school. Tonight I was not even consciously aware of the content of my dream, just aware of a low moaning sound. I awoke and realized it wasn't from the baby monitor, and asked Duane what the sound was. He said he thought it was a dog barking. I rolled over onto my side to drift back to sleep and found the sound was interrupting my slumber further. We have four dogs and I am quite used to the random pattern of yapping dogs. Highs and lows, fast and sharp- whatever. This, however, was not random. One bark. A few seconds pass, and then one bark again. Exactly one long low bark every twenty seconds. I rolled to the other side. I could hear the sound more clearly now. Why aren't they putting that dog indoors? Not being able to sleep, I rolled onto my back and began to focus in on the sound and try to concentrate on what the dog was attempting to communicate. Cold? Pain? Anxiety? I asked Duane if the dog sounded like it was in pain. I envisioned a dog choking on a chain somewhere. A dog whose collar was cinched too tightly. An animal who was hungry and cold. And the dog continues to bark. Why won't he stop!!! I could no longer enjoy the comfort of my bedroom. I told Duane I had never heard an animal bark this way. Finally, I got up, I stood naked in our room and listened again. Aware of the rise and fall of my own chest and my breath distracting from the sound, I held my breath and really listened. Pain. I hear pain. I then dressed, took a flash light and went out of doors to investigate.

Outside in the brisk night air, I could hear all the sounds that had been muffled by our clapboard sided home. In the distance there were the haphazard random pattern of canines barking from all directions. The excited yapping I was accustomed to hearing. I listened for the injured dog. And there it was, back beyond our cul de sac and about a mile walking distance, the lone barker. When heard amongst his comrades, he no longer sounded pained, or isolated. I now wrapped my mind around a different image of the barker who had roused me from sleep- he was an older beagle wishing to participate in the conversation going on around him, and was exerting one long howl every few moments to alert the others to his existence. Satisfied that he was not ailing, and comforted by the voices of those around him, I listened a bit longer and then sighed and came back indoors eager to envelope myself back into my bed clothes and slumber again.

Only in the confines of our bedroom, even with the knowledge of this not being an ailing animal crying out for assistance, he still sounded horrid. Frustrated, I reached for ear plugs and decided that when I woke again in a few hours, I would remove them. I never sleep for long intervals when I use ear plugs- I know I can not rely on Duane to be alerted to infant cries as quickly as I can!

So, I stuffed in to ear plugs and rolled over to sleep. Snuggled down within the blankets and began to feel my body relax again. Only now there is total silence and I am struck by my own thoughts and without an animal or baby cry to interrupt me from them. I could "hear myself think". Again, I rolled over to my back and listened to the sounds around me- those words and feelings in my mind that I had been dodging.

My writing is sacred to me. I receive an email or a comment every so many entries suggesting I look into writing professionally. First, I read so many lovely blogs and do not believe that mine is better than those and indeed feel that probably many of them could be published. Second, I write first and foremost for myself. It is the latter that I wish to discuss.

In writing for myself, I do not have to concern myself with how my words will be received by others. I am an individual that in real life constantly worries over how *every little thing* I say is going to effect another person. I often feel that my conscience haunts me. When someone says something hurtful to me, I wince and will think pf a perfect reply, but maul it around over and over in my mind and obsess that having expressed this thought that the person would not like me any more. Worrying that my emotional state is robing me of the clarity of being rational. So, more often than not, others around me enjoy the benefit of expressing their opinions and I bite my tongue. Rather than trying to work on being more honest about my feelings, I have instead worked on surrounding myself with gentle souls who also do not express their feelings.

And when I do decide to express myself, those around me are shocked and surprised by my candor, often not recognizing that my words have been trapped for months in my mind tormenting me until that very moment.

I get no relief from this, having still the conscience to contend with at a later date.

Enter my writing. My writing gives me a therapeutic way to resolve my feelings. It also gives me a forum to express the positive things in my life which serve as a reminder to the inner demons that "Life is Good!".

I also write poetry and only a few know this and even fewer have read it.

And here, within my writing, I do not have to censor or concern myself with the conscience that protects those around me as well as limits my ability to work through problems. My writing is... me... naked. I do not hold back and I do not temper my words. I express myself at the most primal level- with enough metaphors and adjectives to fool you into believing me intellectual. I revel in the safety of being able to deal with my emotions and express myself in this medium, content that no one is being hurt and that I can arrive at a better emotional state through keyboard and be able to live happily in real life with the thought police.

My writing is emotionally honest where in person I am perhaps not.

Today my sil wrote me privately to tell me how my words have hurt her sister and herself. She said that it bothered her that I have not taken any responsibility for the pain my words have caused others. I do not believe she wrote this to me in anger.

And there it is. I am the beagle. When heard within the context of his other kindreds, his voice was poignant, expressive, and meaningful. One hound among many other gentle beasts enjoying the freedom of expressing himself. Yet, when found by accident alone from his fellow canines, his voice was pained and singular. Distracting and loud, with someone zeroing in on the sound out of context from its meaning and intent and interpreting it as they hear it.

And I personally feel like someone has been viewing me naked, and is now calling attention to my physical flaws. I feel completely vulnerable. I did not receive her email kindly when both my mother and Duane said it was well written and her trying to be nice to me. All I read was that she was judging my words and that she had also been to read my blog without my permission.

I feel as if something has been taken from me that I do not know how to get back and I am hurt.

baby sitter!

Here are Lucas and Matilda in their "Radio Flyer" wagon my father gave them for Christmas, in their very cluttered and 25% unfinished playroom. Duane wound up spending the rest of this evening pulling them around the house in it!

My mom said something the other day to me that still has me laughing. She asked me if Matilda and Lucas (17 months) knew their "ABC's" yet. Now, I was somewhat of a prodigy in our small family and according to most relatives knew my ABC's by age 2, and was reading by age 3. However I think that was my intellectual peak and its been downhill ever since!

I said "Mom, we are currently working on colors".

"But you should be teaching them ABC's, you knew yours by age 2".

"I know, but they are concentrating on their colors and I just don't have the time to do both. I do have an ABC book I read to them and I sing the song when I have time."

"You don't have to teach them! Thats what Sesame Street is for! I never taught you anything, I let Sesame street do it." And then with a slight panic in her voice- "THERE IS STILL SESAME STREET ISN'T THERE?!?!?!".

As if children all over the world may be suffering from illiteracy without it. Rest assured, there IS a Sesame Street, Virginia!

My mom did teach me a few things, but perhaps not ABC's. :-)

Last night we had a BABYSITTER. Can you believe this? After realizing that we only communicate for thirty minutes a day and that its usually about the content of diapers (blech) we decided to enlist the services of an area teenager who was eager to learn the trade of many teens before her. A neighbors daughter whose mom was equally eager for her daughter to sit for us (so she could come and help once we left, bless her heart!) came down with a friend last night, helped us put the babies in bed, then watched them for 1.5 hours while we went on a date. Unfortunately, we skipped lunch trying to plan how to best use our date. We were both completely famished and didn't speak at all while out because we were too busy stuffing huge gobs of food going into our mouthes and then ran out of time and didn't communicate until we came back home and then we talked about the content of Rowan's diaper. *smirk* But, the outing went well, and we paid well and left brownies out and put on a teen movie "Bring it On" so I do not think our local teen was frightened and will offer to sit for us again and perhaps next time we can talk about the content of Ewan's diaper instead. Heh. No seriously. We need more things to talk about and if any of your moms with more parenting experiences have good conversation starters that do not involve diapers, please leave them in my comment area. Maybe we can find one of those "date questionaires" like they use on those dating services and both fill them out but not present them until we are at the date location?

And today after grocery shopping I finally went to Goodwill and dropped off the clothing I will never get into again. Everyone says pregnancy changes your body, but no one tells you that you might be surprised by how weird that could be. My hips are the same size, so is my waist. Its my rib cage! None of my tailored blouses or fitted sweaters fit at all now. Here I was excited to get into my "skinny jeans" and didn't give a thought to my "skinny sweaters" until I went to wear one a few weeks back. Hmpfh. They are all so snug, and while I would like to smile smugly and say it is because of my new big bosoms, it is not. The bosoms are probably smaller even than before, no, it is actually the bones of my rib cage! They expanded and they show no signs of returning to their former size and I am impatient and since it just makes me feel insecure to keep trying on clothing that looks bad, I decided to share them with someone whose ribcage is small(er).

My sister is reading my blog at work and asked that I make sure the content is "work sensitive". She will have to tell me if "bosoms" is going to get her into trouble. As of yet, that word hasn't appeared in any of my spam, so I think only women above 70 still use that expression and since they are not marketed for products whose subject header might read: "Increase the size of your bosoms!" I am fairly work safe.

Tickles and giggles

Here is what all the twins look like on Saturday mornings. I know that technically Lucas and Tilly are getting a little grown up (*sniff*) for bottles, but, its the only way I can get 9 ounces of milk in them, so first thing in the morning, they still get a bottle. The rest of the day they take sippy cups. Tilly has with her "puppy" who goes everywhere she goes and who stinks and crunches when you touch him. *shudders* I sneak him away once a week for a bath, and then he is smelly and crunchie again within the hour. At bedtime when I kiss her goodnight, she now hands me puppy to also kiss goodnight. *shudders again* I got a whiff of him yesterday when I smooched him and nearly fainted. She also has a kitten she carries around. One arm clutching puppy, one arm clutching kitten. Cute! Two stinky toys! :-)




Lately we have been making an outing together as a family on weekends. We have attained "mini-celebrity" status and have to fight off probing questions from many an excited person. A few times we have had so many gathered around us that we have had to ask them to step away so we could get by and shop. If we try and ignore them, they grab our arms! One woman ran after us yelling in Macy's "Are they TRIPLETS!?!?" (my mom said "Poor little thing, I hope she had someone to help her home"). I have also been asked if they were "Quads" ("Yes, but this set was born a year premature"). They all mean so well, and when in a good spirit, I can laugh about it and as I told one clerk at Macys "We bring such joy to others" and smile while rolling my eyes. The truth is, everyone is happy when they see our babies, and no one has said anything mean to date. But, its a bit taxing on Duane and I to answer so many questions, and since Lucas and Matilda are observing our reactions, trying to always be perky and happy and not give an indication of annoyance which might lead them to believe our family situation is a bad thing. Its not a bad thing. Its a very very good thing. We have managed to slim our packing time from 1.5 hours to 20 minutes, too. At first the hardest part was actually loading babies and gear into the car, but we have that slimmed down and now outings are managable. I still have not braved an outing with two sets of twins so young y myself. I would need a quad stroller first!

This is a favorite new picture of Ewan and Rowan. I tickled them to get these silly smiles. They are such precious boys although Ewan is a nap fighter. He doesn't like his crib and would like to sleep in in "soothing motions glider" from now on, but, he is a fat little roly poly baby who will soon be busting out of his glider so we are transitioning him to the crib. He already looks like one of those "pig in a blankets" laying in his glider because its such a tight fit! Rowan likes the crib and likes to lay on his side SUCKING HIS THUMB. I suppose it was inevitable that we have a thumb sucker in our brood. Ewan takes to sucking his sometimes but prefers his paci still.
Both are sleeping through the night which means we are much more rested in this house!



I had a bit of a quandary about what to do about this blog over the past month. My husband- not realizing this was a private blog- gave the address out. As anyone who regularly reads knows, I mainly blog about our home and our children, but have on occasion vented about family problems. Kuddos to the person who spent several hours reading every page of my blog to find the three entries of 67 that were "offensive". (You have more free time than we do and need a more productive hobby). These entries were deleted (a mistake on my part).

I intially- in haste- wanted to delete the entire thing. I was mortified and angry at my husband. I am basically alone here at home 90% of the day, and my blog was made as anonymous as possible so I had a safe outlet to vent when I needed to, and connect when I needed to. I often joke that when I speak what Duane hears is "blah blah blah". Apparently this was more true than I realized because he has had my blog for months and looks at it daily and never read anything I said in venting. I think his face turned three shades of red when re realized it wasn't a "picture blog". Apparently he read "blah blah blah" and only looked at the pictures. I was hurt that he betrayed my privacy and hurt that someone else was hurt from reading my private entries. However, he apologized to me and the injured party. He told them that this was a private blog. What confuses me is that after they were offended they continued to read and injure themselves further. We were only responsible for the first post that hurt their feelings. If they kept digging, then they were feeling masochistic.

And when I went to delete it, I discovered a plethora of antidotes about Lucas and Tilly that I had not documented in their baby books. And stories I have not documented anywhere about family and friends. My father told me not to delete it, that as long as I spoke true things, I should keep it.

So, this is now a public blog and I have given the address to my family and friends- who I wish to have it. I suppose others may find it. But, I will not tip toe or coddle my reader.

If you choose to read my blog, here is what you should know:

1. This is MY blog. Its about our family and how we feel about what happens to us.
2. I will not use this as a passive aggressive vehicle to express negative emotions about *you*, but, I will write what I feel. If this offends you STOP READING IT.
3. I will not exaggerate or lie about anyone. I will only write the truth. The fact that its "my truth" is inherent.
4. You are welcome to start your own blog and write about "Your truth".

And to everyone else- thank you for being a supportive friend to us.