You CAN See!

So much fun! Singing The Star-Spangled Banner at the Bulls game Saturday night was a blast. It was not at all scary, and it was over so fast! That was the largest audience I've ever performed for, although I can't say how many of them were actually paying attention. The best news of all: 1) If I did look pasty, the cameras never got close enough to me to show it. 2) I did fall, but not entering or exiting the court -- not until after the game started and I was out hunting for a slice of pizza. 3) I remembered all the words!

(Me = front row, first on the left)

Why I Love Baking

This, my friends, is what I call a loaf of bread.

Can You See?

Tune in to WGN tomorrow night (December 23) around 7:30 Central time to see members of the Chicago Chamber Choir sing the national anthem for the Bulls/Bobcats game. They tell us the national anthem will be televised.

Reasons I'm terrified:

1. We've been warned to wear plenty of make-up so as not to look "pasty." I always look pasty! I live my life looking like I'm about three melanin cells away from being an albino! I'm going to look like the walking dead.

2. I'm going to trip and fall either entering or leaving the court. I just know it.

3. I'm going to forget the words! To The Star-Spangled Banner! On national television! I will die.

Like a Child-of-the-80s-Turned-Overprotective-Mom

As I was driving home from my choir concert last night, "Like a Virgin" came on the radio. Of course, I immediately started belting along with the Material Girl -- I know the song well. I grew up on this stuff. "Like a virgin -- hey! Touched for the very first time!"

And as I sang and recalled those *shocking!* lyrics, I chuckled a bit to myself. Remember how upsetting that song was to so many grown-ups back in the day? What is Madonna teaching our youth? Oh my god, pre-teen girls are singing about being "like" a virgin! They shouldn't even know what that means! Gasp! I was amused and diverted by this memory for a bit. Please -- like we were harmed by listening to this or any other Madonna song. Give me a break!

And then a little voice in my head said, "But I wouldn't want the twins listening to this, of course! I mean, not until they're at least 25."

O Christmas Tree

We finally managed to get our Christmas tree up last weekend. I like to wait a bit longer than most people because I have a fear of the tree getting old and dry and becoming a large piece of highly flammable kindling sitting in my home. (Does that fear help me remember to water it regularly? No.) Realistically, I know that just because I wait to get the tree doesn't mean it hasn't been sitting on that tree lot for weeks and weeks, shriveling into a dry husk. I try not to think about that.

So as has been our tradition for the last several years, we went to Gesthemane, a lovely (overpriced) garden center near our home. This year, our friendly salesman alerted us to the fact that there's a special bargain-price lot full of less-than-perfect trees. So you're wondering why our tree looks a bit lop-sided? I love it just the way it is.

My tree-decorating theme? "Ornaments Kelly Likes." I'm consistent, so they all look good together, but otherwise there isn't much tying things together. Mental note -- I am no longer allowed to buy tons of new ornaments every year, no matter how super cute and awesome Gesthemane's new ornaments are. We barely found room for all the ornaments we already have on this not-small tree. One new ornament per year, max.

The Eagle Has Landed

Thanks, Nanette!!


Now it's time I reciprocate.

Technical Difficulties

A few of you have reported trouble trying to post comments on the blog lately. Sorry, guys. I assume the problem is that I finally gave in to those nagging messages from Blogger.com to "upgrade" to Blogger Beta. I think Blogger Beta needed to undergo a bit more beta testing before they rolled it out and shoved it on us.

I have no idea how long this problem will persist, but know that I feel your pain. Feel free to email your witty comments directly to me so at least someone gets to appreciate them.

Supah Stah

That's me! On TV! (I'm the one on the left.)

Those of you who missed the Chicago Chamber Choir's media blitz this morning, have no fear! Visit the WGN archive and choose "Toy Drive, Chicago Chamber Choir 12/15" to see a (brief) clip of us singing "Carol of the Bells." (We performed several other songs, but that's the only one in the archive.) Here is a lovely shot of us singing for WGN.

And go to the WBEZ archive for Eight-Forty-Eight and choose the December 15 program to hear us sing "Caroling, Caroling," "Angels We Have Heard on High," and "Christmas Time Is Here." (We are about the last 10 minutes of the program, so you can fast-forward straight to the end.)

Next week, we're singing the national anthem at a Bulls game -- more details to come.

Reminder: Tune In Tomorrow!

Don't forget! Tune in to WBEZ tomorrow morning, December 15, between 9:00 AM and 10:00 AM Central time (you can listen online at wbez.org). On Eight-Forty-Eight with Steve Edwards, the Chicago Chamber Choir gives a sneak peek at our upcoming holiday concert, and director Timm Adams chats a bit about the choir. Our segment is about 10 minutes long -- I'm not sure where we fall in the 9:00 to 10:00 block, so you'll just have to listen to the whole thing. If you miss the broadcast, you can go to the site later and listen to the archive.

Also, CCC will be appearing on the WGN morning news program tommorow, December 15, between 6:30 AM and 7:30 AM Central time to sing Christmas carols as locals drop off presents for WGN's holiday gift drive. If you're awake that early and receive WGN broadcasts (I understand it's in some satellite TV packages, for those of you who aren't in Chicago or its surroundings), be sure to tune in!

If you're planning to join us for our Carols By Candlelight concert, reserve your tickets now! The December 17th concert is in serious danger of selling out.

Is it me you're looking for?

These days, this is how a typical conversation with me goes:

You: Hey, Kelly!

Me: Hi! How are you?

You: I'm great, thanks for asking! How are you?

Me: Oh, we're fantastic. The girls are doing just great. Sophia's standing now, did you hear? And Evelyn is mastering two-word phrases. I mean, they're just so advanced. It's incredible. And did I tell you about Sophia's adorable obsession with penguins? So cute! She calls them "beedee" -- isn't that the cutest thing ever?

You: Well, that's great. So how are you doing?

Me: Oh, great. You know. The girls keep me busy. Yesterday, they had physical therapy, which is just so much fun, and of course they have their 18-month check-up coming up, and then there's their holiday photo shoot. Our schedule is pretty full!

You: [exhibiting great patience] That sounds like a handful! I've had a lot going on lately, too.

Me: Really? That's great. Did I tell you about Sophia's newest word? Window! Isn't that great? That brings her total word count to 47 -- mama, dada, bubble, baby, puppy ... [etc.]

As you can see, I've completely lost my ability to talk about anything other than my kids. In every conversation, I talk about them every chance I get. I'm constantly thinking about more interesting things I could be telling you about them, if only I could find a way to fit it into the conversation. Because you're dying to know, right? Everyone is. I'm sure of it.

So, fine. I'm obsessed with my kids. Most parents of young children are, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. However, it's been occurring to me lately that not only do I love to talk about my kids -- I now have no desire to talk about myself. Because I don't really have any interest in myself. I am secondary. When I take the girls out and people ooo and ahh over them but don't even say hello to me, I'm not offended. I'm pleased. When people ask what's going on in my life that isn't kid-related, I have nothing to say. Sure, I have lots going on. I could talk about choir or my freelance work or my gripping addiction to World of Warcraft. But who wants to talk about me? The Girls! Are! So Cute!

Is it bad that I've lost most of my own identity in them? Should I be fighting to maintain some sense of individuality, some Kelly-ness? A tiny shred of interest in anything other than them? A little voice in the back of my head wonders about this, but I'm too busy dressing the girls up in cute outfits and taking pictures of them to pay it any mind.

More Cooking with Kelly

I promise this is not going to turn into a cooking blog. I swear. (I'm not a good enough cook to pull that off.) It's just that I've been trying out some new recipes lately, and wanted to share the results with you.

So yesterday's dinner was also from Rachael Ray's Express Lane Meals (I know, I know, but what can I say? The woman has about a bajillion books with easy recipes, and I don't cook if it ain't easy. Baking -- that's another matter. I love a baking challenge.)

I made Rachael's Smoky Sweet-Potato Chicken Stoup. (Seriously, Rachael, stoup? And EVOO? Can you quit trying to cutsey up the English language?) Loved it! Very flavorful, a little spicy, and easy. This "30 minute" meal took me about an hour and a half to make, but I did have distractions and I'm not a terribly efficient cook. Your mileage may vary.


Smoky Sweet Potato Chicken Stoup

Serves 4 (according to RR, but those are some big portions -- serves more like 6 around my house)

2 T EVOO
2 medium carrots, peeled
2 celery ribs
1 large onion
1 large sweet potato
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 chipotle chili in adobo, finely chopped
salt and black pepper
1/2 t dried thyme
1 bay leaf
1 cup dry white wine
1 quart plus 1 cup chicken stock
1 package chicken tenders, cut into bite-size pieces
4 scallions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves (I skipped this, seeing as I have that cilantro intolerance)
1/2 cup sour cream, for garnish (optional)

Heat a soup pot over medium-high heat with the EVOO. While the oil heats, cut the carrots in half lengthwise, then slice into thin half moons. Add the carrots to the pot, stirring to coat the carrots in the oil. Chop and drop in the celery and onion, chopping them as small as you can, but don't make yourself crazy.

Peel and then cut the sweet potato into quarters lengthwise, then thinly slice them into bite-size pieces. Add the sweet potato, garlic, and chipotle and stir to combine. Season the veggies with salt and pepper, the thyme, and the bay leaf. Cook the veggies together for 1 minute. Add the wine to the vegetables and reduce for a minute. Add the stock to the pot, cover the pot, and raise the heat to high.

When the stoup boils, remove the cover and simmer over low heat for 10 minutes. Add the cut-up chicken and simmer for 5 minutes, or until the sweet potatoes are tender and the chicken is cooked through. Turn the heat off, discard the bay leaf, and stir in the scallions and cilantro. Serve each portion of stoup with a dollop of sour cream on top.

Yummy.

I did have some serious tendinitis after chopping up that large sweet potato -- ouch! Add a fancy mandolin slicer to my Christmas wish list.

On the topic of cilantro: I have to express my absolute shock at being unable to find much info online to share with you about cilantro intolerances/allergies. (In case you're not familiar with the affliction -- for those of us with the cilantro intolerance, cilantro tastes like soap. Gross. Fortunately for me, my intolerance is fairly mild, so I can handle it in small doses. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to eat at Chipotle.) When I did a search on "cilantro intolerance" (in quotes) using Google, I got only one hit! What's up with that? At least a quarter of the people I know, maybe more, share the cilantro intolerance with me. They say Julia Child had the cilantro intolerance. Why on earth can't I find more information about it?

Got God?

As a non-believer, I find these ads (parodies of the Mac vs. PC ads) to be very interesting. I think I approve of their message, if I understand it correctly. Worry more about doing/being good than looking/seeming good -- I can get on board with that. (Not so much the following Jesus part, but you know me.)

Discuss.

Last Night's Leek-tastic Dinner

I don't want to encroach on Rug's Bug's territory, but I thought I'd share with y'all the recipe I used for last night's dinner. Not too shabby. (I have lots of leeks leftover -- let me know if you want some!)

Rachael Ray's Leek-y Chicken and Couscous (from Express Lane Meals)

Serves 4

1-1/2 cups chicken stock
2 T unsalted butter
1/4 cup golden raisins, chopped
1-1/2 cups plain couscous
2 T EVOO
1-1/2 pounds chicken tenders, cut into large bite-size pieces
salt and black pepper
2 medium or 1 large leek(s)
1 cup dry white wine
handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Heat the chicken stock and 1 T of the butter in a medium pot with a tight-fitting lid. When the liquid boils, add the raisins and couscous. Take the pan off the heat. Stir the couscous and place the lid on the pot. Let it stand.

Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat and add the EVOO. Add the chicken in a single layer and season it with salt and pepper. While the chicken browns on all sides, trim the rough tops and the root ends off the leeks.

Cut the leeks in half lengthwise, then cute them into 1-inch half moons. Place the leeks in a colander and run them under cold water. Separate the layers to release the dirt and grit. Rinse well, then drain well.

Add the leeks to the chicken and wilt, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the wine and let it cook down by half, 3 to 4 minutes. The leeks should still have some color but should be tender and the chicken should be cooked through. Add the remaining tablespoon of butter and swirl into the sauce.

Fluff the couscous with a fork and stir in the parsley. Place a bed of couscous on each dinner plate and top it with the chicken and leeks.

(Interesting how typing out the recipe showed me the many steps I neglected or didn't exactly follow. Hmm. Well, it turned out just fine, despite my poor comprehension skills.)

Tune In

I spent this afternoon at WBEZ's studio on Chicago's Navy Pier. My choir recorded a selection of songs from our upcoming holiday concert, to be broadcast Friday, December 15, between 9:00 am and 10:00 am Central time (on Eight-Forty-Eight with Steve Edwards, who so doesn't look like what I thought he'd look like).

If you live in WBEZ's broadcast area, you have no excuse not to listen (it's 91.5 on your FM dial). And those of you who live outside the area -- you also have no excuse. You can listen to a live streaming broadcast by visiting wbez.org and choosing "Listen Now."

Don't worry, I'll remind you.

Holiday Gift Guide

I've seen lots of holiday gift guides on the web lately. I think I'm uniquely qualified to put together a list that should be useful to most (if not all!) of you, a compilation of gift suggestions for a very special person with specific tastes and preferences. You guessed it: This is My Guide to Buying Gifts for Me! I hope you all put it to good use.

Gifts to Buy Me for Less than $10

Seriously, you can't shell out any more than that for me? Fine. This will do nicely, thank you very much. (Baby, it's cold outside. But hopefully it's at least 170 degrees F inside that pork roast!)

Less than $20

Doesn't every editor need this shirt? And every blogger needs this one.

And the ultimate in fromage -- my mouth waters just thinking about it.

Less than $30

Chocolate. What more do I have to say?

Less than $40

If you're at all interested in strategy board games, you'll pick this one up for yourself, too.

Less than $50

I need layers to make it through a Chicago winter.

Less than $70

Don't these look cozy?

Less than $90

These should look fab on my curvy hips. Size 8, please.

Less than $200

I have a family to feed, people!

And every girl needs some bling.

$25,000 or more

It's not for me -- it's for the kids! The old Focus wagon just doesn't have the cargo space I need.

Okay, that should be enough to get you started. Happy shopping!

(Unbeknownst to me when writing this post, Shannon tagged me with a Dear Santa meme. I'm thrilled to note that I fulfilled the requirements of the meme without even knowing I was doing it! That's efficiency for you.)

Shovel This

Dear people in Chicagoland (and elsewhere) who don't shovel your sidewalks (specifically, the next-door-neighbors -- damn pigeon lovers! -- and assorted homeowners in Lincoln Park):

I hate you! I hate you! Get off your lazy bum and shovel your sidewalk! Or pay someone to do it for you! Do you have any idea how hard it is to push a fully loaded twin stroller through the icy, slushy obstacle course you've created? Do you? How do you think people in wheelchairs navigate that mess? Huh? Well? What do you have to say for yourself? No -- I don't want to hear it. Just take this shovel and get to work. Yes, I know it's much harder to shovel now that the snow has melted and refrozen into a rock-solid mass. You should have thought of that last week when you were too lazy to shovel the fresh, fluffy, newly fallen snow, all two inches of it.

Did I mention that I hate you?

Movie Review: Happy Feet

(What? What's that you say? You think I should have to see more than 20 minutes of a movie before writing a review? Well, if you feel so strongly about it, you might as well just skip this post.)

We took Evelyn and Sophia to see Happy Feet this weekend because Sophie is obsessed with penguins (or "bee-dees," as she calls them). We knew going in that it was highly unlikely we'd be staying for the whole movie. The girls did astonishingly well -- if there hadn't been 20 minutes of freakin' previews, we could have stayed for most of the movie. Sophie had a lovely time and seemed to be just about ready to nod off right before we left. Evie, however, became bored with the show and decided she'd rather play peek-a-boo with mommy, flirt with the people sitting behind us, and grumble and groan about not being able to crawl around. We decided it was best to head out before things got ugly.

I loved the first 20 minutes! The music, the characters, the animation -- so much fun. I loved the way they used pop songs for the penguins' heart songs. It reminded me a lot of the use of popular music in Moulin Rouge, except that I liked it in Happy Feet (not so much in Moulin Rouge). And you gotta give mad props to a kids' movie that so prominently features a Prince song.

Someday, I hope to see the rest of Happy Feet. For now, please don't tell me how it ends.

Season of Giving

Now is the time of year when we think about giving, both to our friends and loved ones and to the charities that work to improve our lives and the lives of others. As you think about your charitable giving this year, consider these organizations near and dear to my heart.

• You don't really understand just how good the work being done by the Shriners Hospitals is until you have a kid (or two) who benefit from it. The Shriners offer world-class, top-notch healthcare to children at their orthopedic and burn hospitals, all at no cost to the parents. The Shriners are amazing people who do incredible work.
  
  
• As a mother of preemies, I am of course a fan of the March of Dimes. Their tireless work to prevent birth defects and prematurity benefits countless children every year.
  
  
• The Osteogenesis Imperfecta Foundation is of special importance to us, seeing as three-quarters of my nuclear family (and many members of my extended family) have OI. Great research studies are underway to find treatments for OI (studies that are benefiting greatly from stem cell research, by the way), and I hope that someday soon they'll have a treatment the twins can take to lessen their risk for broken bones and other OI-related complications.
  
  
• The work being done by Cure Autism Now deserves everyone's support. Autism is nearly an epidemic in this country, but great work is being done to clear away the mysteries of this disease and bring about treatments and, hopefully soon, a cure.
  
  
• Doctors Without Borders works around the world with the sick, injured, and malnourished, as well as refugees and displaced people, providing assistance in some of the most dangerous places on Earth.
  
  
• Closer to home, the Chicago Chamber Choir, of which I am a member, shares the gift of music with everyone in our community, singing in schools, homeless shelters, and retirement homes in addition to our regular concerts. I believe beautiful music is well worth supporting.
  
  
• And let's not forget our furry friends this holiday season! (Thanks for reminding me, Nanette!) Chicago's Anti-Cruelty Society and other organizations like it look out for the well-being of abandoned and abused pets, caring for them and helping them find loving homes. These groups are doing great and necessary work.
  

Tell us, which are your favorite charitable organizations?

Twins? Or Triplets?

Anatomy of a Perfect Thanksgiving Dinner

The Parts of a Perfect Thanksgiving Dinner:

1) Turkey: In this case, a smoked turkey breast. Dee-lish.

2) Gravy: The usual.

3) Stuffing/dressing: Cornbread/sausage stuffing.

4) Bread: Parker House rolls -- it's not Thanksgiving without them.

5) Potato: Garlic mashed potatoes. (This year we decided to follow the recipe and not use six times as much salt as the recipe calls for.)

6) Cranberry: We went with AB's tart cranberry dipping sauce, a turkey condiment. It goes quite well with smoked turkey.

7) Sweet potato: Grated sweet potato pudding. It doesn't look like much, but it tastes divine. (Me, I love canned sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, but I must be the only one who does.)

8) Green: We strayed from the usual green bean casserole and went with garlic-roasted asparagus. Yum.

9) Palate cleanser: As we've had every year for the last I don't know how many years, avocado-pear sorbet. Refreshing. (Or, in the words of Sophia, "Mmmm.")

10) Dessert: We bucked tradition this year -- no pumpkin pie. Instead, peppermint ice cream pie with an Oreo crust and Cool Whip on top.


(For links to recipes, see the previous post.)

Unfortunately, poor Evelyn is quite ill (thus my absence from the blog for many days) and didn't partake in the dinner much. Her favorite dish, despite illness: the tart cranberry sauce. Can't say I blame her.

What I'm I thankful for? I'm thankful for Thanksgiving dinner (and the fact that I'm no longer cooking it). Oh, yeah, and I'm thankful for the fact that I have the most awesome family on the planet.

T-Day Approaches

Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday. I spend the whole day in the kitchen cooking and baking enough food for an army, even though it's usually just Airan, David, and me (and now the girls). I can hardly wait for this year's festivities. Here's how the menu is shaping up:

Smoked turkey breast
Cornbread/sausage/sage stuffing
Turkey gravy
Cranberry dipping sauce (For the turkey! Strange, I know. This is a new one for us.)
Parker House rolls
Garlic mashed potatoes
Garlic-roasted asparagus
Sweet potato pudding
Avocado-pear sorbet (Our traditional palate cleanser -- don't knock it 'til you try it!)
Peppermint ice cream pie

Don't you all wish you were coming to our place for T-Day?

Fashionistas

A pox upon you, A Payne, for introducing me to Gymboree.

Lunching Gamers

The Gamers gathered for lunch yesterday to celebrate Jill's last day of employment at PIL, where we all met and first started our long association and shared love of board games, hot dogs, cheesy balls of love, Matt Howie, and Harry Morgan.

Julie, Jill (holding Libby), Mary Beth, Kerri, Joanna, and me (notice how I'm vainly trying to block Jo out of the picture) -- poor Sophie and Evie are facing away from the camera

Now only Joanna and Julie remain at PIL. It's pretty amazing to think about how much our lives have changed in the last six years. We've gone from being predominantly unmarried and childless to predominantly married with kids. We all used to work together and gather in a conference room every Thursday at lunchtime to play noisy board games and annoy our coworkers. (Poor Jim!) Now those of us who remain at PIL aren't even in the same building. Life tries to scatter us, but it won't work! The Gamers live on! See you ladies (most of you) for Game Night on Saturday! And get ready to lose, my friends -- I feel a winning streak coming on.

(I shamelessly stole this photo from Julie -- hope you don't mind, Jules!)

Dress Debate

Outfits (sans accessories) for the girls' holiday portraits arrived yesterday. The debate: With or without those black velvet boleros?

With:

Without:

Cuter with, yes? But they don't quite go. They partially cover the adorable little off-center bow on the dress collar. Something isn't quite right.

Opinions?

Sunny Chicago in November

I don't know how we got so lucky as to have yet another beautiful, warm, sunny day in Chicago so late in the year, but I'm glad we did. We were also lucky enough to have Uncle Nathan in town to visit the girls (and us, I guess) today, so we got out and did a bit of sightseeing.

First stop: the beach. It was so nice and warm out, I ended up abandoning my coat along the way. Pepper had a lovely time chasing squirrels, and the girls were seriously irritated with all that sunlight in their eyes.

Nathan with Pepper, Evelyn, and Sophia at the beach.

Next stop: Airan's place of work. We met up with Daddy for quick lunch between meetings at his downtown office building.

Airan with Sophia

Nathan with Evelyn

Off to Millennium Park for a gander at The Bean (a.k.a. Cloud Gate):
This unusual piece of art draws lots of sightseers and photographers, including us.

Me, Nathan, and the girls reflected by The Bean

We also visited the park's strange video wall, but we deemed it to be too disturbing for photographs.

Next, we gawked at the park's strange outdoor concert hall, designed by Frank Gehry:
And then certain people needed to get home for a nap.

Contract With America 2006

Remember this?

REPUBLICAN CONTRACT WITH AMERICA

As Republican Members of the House of Representatives and as citizens seeking to join that body we propose not just to change its policies, but even more important, to restore the bonds of trust between the people and their elected representatives.

That is why, in this era of official evasion and posturing, we offer instead a detailed agenda for national renewal, a written commitment with no fine print.

This year's election offers the chance, after four decades of one-party control, to bring to the House a new majority that will transform the way Congress works. That historic change would be the end of government that is too big, too intrusive, and too easy with the public's money. It can be the beginning of a Congress that respects the values and shares the faith of the American family.

Like Lincoln, our first Republican president, we intend to act "with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right." To restore accountability to Congress. To end its cycle of scandal and disgrace. To make us all proud again of the way free people govern themselves.

That was 1994, when Republicans took control of both houses of Congress. The contract goes on to list several initiatives to remake Congress and the United States as the Republican Congress saw fit.

I think it's time, at long last, for a response to that document, and here are a few items I'd like the Democrats to keep in mind.

• All Americans need access to affordable health care.
• All Americans should be able to earn a living wage.
• All Americans deserve to have elected officials free from corruption and corporate sponsorship.
• All Americans need government policies that are designed to keep them safe, including our soldiers in Iraq.
• All American children should have access to excellent schools where they can learn the life skills they'll need, preferably without fear of crazed gunmen.

Am I forgetting anything?

I Choose You!

On this misty morning, I taught Sophia and Evelyn about the sacred civic duty that is voting. Along the way, we learned that "handicapped-accessible" polling booths might be handicapped accessible, but not so much twin-stroller accessible. However, poll workers are more than happy to hold doors open for adorable twins and their somewhat frazzled mom.

In Illinois, we are asked to vote on judges. Today's ballot held a host of judges seeking retention. I don't know how many states ask their citizens to vote on judges -- I just know I didn't have to do it when voting in Colorado. Seriously, I am not qualified to make those kinds of decisions. I know very little about our legal system, let alone which judges perform their duties adequately and which need to be booted out. However, I take the sacred civic duty that is voting seriously, and thus I try to educate myself about the judges seeking retention. One resource I turned to recently was the Chicago Bar Association. They list all of the judges seeking retention and rate them as Highly Recommended, Recommended, or Not Recommended for retention. I rely on resources such as this to fill in the gaps in my knowledge. However, I was distressed to realize that of the 12 judges not recommended for retention, 10 were women. I'm forced to wonder whether some sort of gender discrimination is at work. The CBA gives reasons for each judge it doesn't recommend (not enough experience/knowledge, inappropriate temperament, inability to process cases in a timely manner, etc -- and several were not recommended merely because they chose not to participate in the rating process). As I've said, I know nothing about this process or these judges. And yet I'm troubled by this gender disparity. I think it calls for further investigation.

Book Review: Holy Unexpected

I recently finished Robin's Chotzinoff's Holy Unexpected and found myself unexpectedly moved by it. This book is the non-fiction story of a secular woman who decides to explore and embrace Judaism. I won't spoil the whole book for you, but here's a quick summary: Although Robin's father was of Jewish descent, he was a firm atheist, and Robin was raised without religion. In her 40s, at a time when other aspects of her life are finally starting to come together, Robin begins to think that Jewish faith might be the last missing piece. She seeks out a small synagogue in Evergreen, Colorado, and finds just the community she's been looking for.

That story in and of itself isn't what made this book so fascinating for me. I was entranced and charmed by Robin's descriptions of her personal faith. Her faith is less about belief (she seems to consider much of the Torah to be a metaphor) and more about finding a community, a structure, that supports and nourishes and loves. She finds that her community encourages disagreements and debates about what it means to be Jewish, and no two people will agree on a definition of the nature of God or whether it's okay to run to Wal-Mart for duct tape on the Sabbath. She meets with some people who keep Orthodox practices and who tell Robin they find freedom in the rules. Robin finds her own balance between keeping some of those strict rules and still being true to her own life, her family, her community.

Will this atheist be embracing Judaism (or any other faith)? No. But I did find this read to be, for lack of a better word, heartwarming. I strongly recommend it. (Along with another book of Robin's, People With Dirty Hands.)

I must be on a religious/anti-religious book kick. I just started reading Richard Dawkin's The God Delusion -- check back for a review soon.

Pierce My Heart

You all know I have a bit of a crush on Alton Brown. Something about the scientifically minded nerdy chef is just irresistible.

Well, those affections took a severe blow yesterday when I noticed that AB has (gasp!) an earring. And an especially lame earring at that. We noticed it last night while watching Iron Chef America (Battle Honey, Iron Chef Girl* vs. Iron Chef Girl's former sous chef).

What?? Why on earth does AB have an earring? Did he get it to go with his biker persona? To enhance the occasional appearances of BA on Good Eats? Or is it, as Airan speculated, a Harrison Ford earring, a blatant midlife-crisis, how-can-I-make-myself-seem-young-and-hip piercing?

I can deal with AB's bee tattoo. Tattoos don't bother me. But I don't think men should wear jewelry, other than tasteful wedding rings. (There are very few exceptions to this rule.)

I just don't know whether you can still be my fantasy boyfriend, AB. I need to give this some thought. For now, you're on notice.

* That's how Iron Chef Cat Cora is referred to around here. I should be offended on behalf of all women, but I think it's funny.

Playdate!

Owen, Nora, Libby, Sophie, and Evie

Rich Whitney for Governor

I usually try to steer clear of the controversial topics politics and religion on this blog -- I know we don't all agree, and I want Digressions to be a place where we can all have pleasant conversations in moderate tones of voice. I'm going to break that rule today because I want to mention that this blog endorses Rich Whitney for Illinois governor. He cares about adequate funding for our schools, balancing the budget, providing universal health care, and getting the corruption out of Illinois politics. And perhaps most important, he's a Battlestar Galactica fan. I am dismayed by Mr. Whitney's support of open-carry gun laws, and I wish he'd rethink that. However, I still think he's the best of our three choices.

If you live in Illinois and aren't yet sure who you're voting for on Tuesday (or even if you are), check out Mr. Whitney's site.

A little flattery goes a long way.

Need a pick-me-up? Go here.

(Thanks for sharing this link, Kerri!)

Happy Halloween!

It Won't Get Any Better Than This

This is how Sophia, Evelyn, and I spent this afternoon, probably the last nice afternoon of the year.

First, a windy stroll at the beach.


The scenery:


I'd like to pretend this is a sweet picture of the girls holding hands, but I know Sophia was fast asleep and had no idea where her hand had randomly landed.

Next, a visit to Chipotle, my favorite lunch spot.

Even though the staff there loves to admire the Sophie and Evie, the girls were unmoved. Sophie didn't even bother to wake up.

Homeward bound:

Tomorrow promises to be cold and blustery. I fear winter will have us in its grip before long.

Ouch

While I'm sure Evelyn's recent surgery was more painful for her physically than it was for us financially (or emotionally), I'm still a little shocked by just how much of it our insurance company decided was our fair share. If this were an elective surgery, I can see them sticking us with a huge portion of the bill just to make us think twice about it. But expecting an average American family with one income and two kids to come up with $750 for a necessary, if minor, surgery -- that seems just a touch unreasonable to me. Hell, I could have spent that money at Sears.

I've been railing against the insurance company lately, but I need to remind myself of this recent bill, also shocking: The twins' last routine visit to the pediatrician (just a standard check-up with a few vaccine shots) ran a whopping $800. Our share of that: $40. And, to be fair, they did pay 99.76% of the twins' $500,000 NICU stay. So maybe I should shut my pie-hole.

Why on earth does it cost $400 per kid for a routine check-up? What do families without insurance do? Why can't this country get it together and create an affordable national health-care system?

For centuries, people got by with leeches and trips to the seaside to keep their humours in balance. High percentages of them survived. Maybe we should just give that a try. Next time I have a headache, I'm reaching for the laudanum.

(Thanks for all your good thoughts for us regarding Evelyn's surgery! It was quite minor and, despite my consuming fears, it was as quick and easy as a surgery could be. She's recovering quite nicely and should be completely back to normal in time for Halloween.)

Mall-Walking (a.k.a. Shopping)

The girls and I went mall-walking with Kerri and Libby yesterday. Good times, good times. Evelyn is a little bit obsessed with Libby, so we had to keep an eye on her -- I think she'd kidnap Libby given half the chance. (Sophia is far more interested in puppies.)

Shopping -- that's exactly what I need to be doing while our checking account is in disarray, right? Despite that, I picked up this shirt while we were out:
You can't really tell from that picture that it's covered with sparkly bits, so here's a close-up:
I think this is the first time in my life I've ever owned a piece of clothing that sparkles. I'm pretty sure I'll look like a harlot in it. Next thing you know, I'll be wearing lipstick! The horror!

While I'm blathering, I'll take this opportunity to mention that Evelyn is scheduled for some minor surgery tomorrow morning. I'm pretty freaked out about it, even though there's little risk of something going wrong. I just keep thinking about that poor girl who died in the dentist's chair last month. What did that quack do wrong? How can I be sure that won't happen to Evelyn?? I'm trying to be calm. Think good thoughts for us, would you?

More Money for Nothing

I think it's perfectly reasonable of me to be a little bit frustrated with my bank right now. It could be worse -- they could refuse to believe me when I say I didn't spend $732.63 at Sears on Monday. They could tell me to suck it and deal with the charges on my own. They're not doing that. So I should be grateful, right?

Now that the charges have cleared and have been deducted from my checking account, I have to jump through the bank's hoops and do a little song and dance for them, and it will still take them 24 to 48 hours to refund my money and remove the overdraft charges. I can understand that the bank needs to protect itself. If it were easy to get the bank to give you refunds every time you say a charge is fraudulent, people would be going out and buying huge plasma TVs and calling the bank the next day to say they've never stepped foot in an electronics store in their life.

But I've had more than $700 missing from my account since Monday, and it's still going to take another day or two to get it back -- maybe the bank has lots of customers for whom that's no big deal, but I'm not one of them!

I seem to remember seeing ads for a bank that refunds your money immediately if your card number has been violated. I need to find out which bank that was. Anyone know?

Money for Nothing

Oh. My. God. My debit card has been compromised. I logged in to check my online bank statement today and found that someone has been making unauthorized charges at Sears and Marathon. Large unauthorized charges.

Panic sets in.

So I do the first thing you do in such a situation -- I call the bank. Sensible, no? And I tell the friendly and helpful operator about the situation. Three charges. One of them quite large. I made none of them. Please, please, get rid of them!

So Friendly, Helpful Operator tells me, "Hmm. These charges are still pending. They haven't cleared yet. I'm afraid we can't do anything about this until the charges clear." Um, what? When these charges clear, my checking account will go into the red and my overdraft protection and its associated fees will kick in, which will make the problem even bigger. Right? So don't we want to prevent that? Nip this problem in the bud? Am I missing something?

Maybe I'm stupid. I don't understand why I have to spend the next few days with no money, waiting for the charges to clear, before the bank will do anything about it. And on top of that, I have to wait five to seven days for my new debit card, so even if I had money to spend, I can't spend it.

I'm not blaming the bank, mind you. I'm blaming the jerks who got their hands on my debit card number and caused this problem. Possible suspects:

1) My brother David. Sears has lots of tools, and David loves tools. I can see him spending $700 on a new Craftsman set. However, I don't think he was in Ohio fueling up his car yesterday.

2) Airan. Perhaps he stole my card, went to Sears, bought me a fabulous present (that we can't afford), and slipped the card back in my wallet with me none the wiser. Now he refuses to confess because he doesn't want to explain what he was doing at a Marathon in Ohio yesterday.

3) Me. I was sleepwalking and decided I needed to a) buy a new washing machine and b) see the Midwest.

Further investigation is necessary. I'll keep you posted.

Cheese, Glorious Cheese

The choir in which I sing had an open rehearsal tonight -- anyone was welcome to sit in and listen to our preparations for the swiftly approaching concert series next month. After rehearsal, the choir hosted a wine-and-cheese reception for our visitors. Luckily for us choristers, none of our guests stayed until the end of the rehearsal, so the wine and cheese, etc., were all ours.

So I'm stuffing my face with some fantastic cheese because, like usual, I didn't have time to eat dinner before rehearsal. And a fellow singer, also enjoying the fromage, says "Cheese is great for when you need to gain weight quickly."

And I'm thinking to myself, "Funny, I don't have a problem with that. It comes to me naturally."

Finally, I'm getting the fashion help I've needed all these years.

Check out the latest post over at Friday Playdate, in which Susan is kind enough to tackle my fashion woes. (So many fashion woes, so little time -- be sure to check out the rest of Susan's Fashion Friday posts while you're there.)

If this is a 12-step program, I think I'm on step 2

Today, I stopped by the vet's office for the first time since June 24. As I was driving there, I realized that it would in fact be my first time back, so of course I spent the rest of the drive thinking about it. And when I got there, I stood at the counter with Pepper's pee sample in my hands and tears in my eyes, feeling both silly and wretched, dying to get out as fast as possible, preferably before the waterworks started. I guess I'm constantly surprised that the wound is still so raw. I avoid talking about it and thinking about it. I prefer not to use or hear his name. But, every now and then, I'm confronted with something that I can't ignore or shove away -- a picture, his quilt, an unmistakably Puckish hair on the couch or in my cereal -- and I find myself overcome all over again.

A Few Quick Notes

(Mostly TV-related, since watching television doesn't hurt.)

1) Sayid on Lost = so hot.

2) Tonight's Colbert Report = hilarious. If you didn't see it, catch one of the seventeen reruns tomorrow.

3) It's supposed to snow in Chicago tomorrow. I used to look forward to every snowfall because of the possibility that it might net me a snow day. I don't get snow days anymore (or sick days, for that matter), so I'm considering tomorrow's possible inclement weather with some trepidation.

4) If anyone has advice concerning collecting a urine sample from a dog with the least possible spillage and mess, please -- for the love of all that's good and pure -- share.

It Shouldn't Hurt to Blog

Tendonitis? Carpal tunnel syndrome? I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, it has my left hand and arm in a grip of fiery pain. And since I need to be using the little bit of typing I can do for activities that make me money (hello, big pile of freelance work!), I might not be blogging or commenting much until I have this sorted out. Forgive me! If you have any advice about setting up an ergonomic workstation, please send it my way.

Seriously, what's with those funny hats?

Tomorrow morning, we'll take Sophia and Evelyn for their twice-a-year check-up at the Shriners Hospital's osteogenesis imperfecta clinic. I don't mind telling you that this impending appointment causes me no small amount of anxiety.

What will the doctors find wrong this time? What is it that's been lurking undetected lo these many months? Fractures we never suspected? Dangerously bowed limbs? Limb length discrepancies? Other ailments my hypochondriac mind hasn't even dreamed up yet? Here we've been thinking they're fine, no OI-related problems -- things are tripping along nicely, thank you very much (as long as no one actually trips).

But since our last visit in April, both girls started crawling, then pulling up to stand, then cruising. Sophia had a bit of a fall. Both girls have bonked their heads and behinds countless times in the process of learning to stand. What damage has been done?

At our first Shriners Hospital visit, we didn't have this fear. We waltzed in with our miracle babies who survived a 10-week NICU stay and who, by golly, wouldn't be held down by this blasted OI. They're made of steel, I tell you! So we were not at all prepared to learn that, somehow, without us even suspecting it, both girls had broken several ribs. How does that happen? How does a baby who can't even roll over yet, whose parents have been trained to be so cautious they never pick her up by the midsection, how does this baby break -- not one -- but several ribs? And -- not one -- but two babies did it! How?

So, let me tell you, we lived with fear after that appointment. Every time we picked them up, we worried that we were breaking a bone. Every time they cried for no reason we could discern, we were sure they'd broken something. It was constantly in our thoughts. What's broken this time?

Turns out, nothing (as far as we know). Nothing has broken (as far as we know) since those ribs nearly a year ago. The girls sailed through their second Shriners Hospital visit six months ago with barely a comment from the doctors. They have survived all of the normal learning-to-be-a-toddler stages with no damage (as far as we know).

And yet, the fear is here to stay.

So, we'll find out tomorrow if the (as far as we know) becomes an (I can tell you for sure). We'll see if we can start the next six-month cycle with a cautious optimism instead of a petrified terror and guilt about a) having allowed them to break bones and b) not even knowing it, that's what bad parents we are.

Wish us luck.

Laura Roslin for President

While I'm on this TV kick, why not out myself for the total geek I am? Who else watched the series premier of Battlestar Galactica last night? (I'm guessing not one of you, with the possible exception of my mom.)

It was so great! More of the BSG we've come to know and love. So tense! Depressing! Timely! A little violent, let's be honest. I'm going to just come out and say it, and you can all mock me if you so choose: Battlestar Galactica is the best drama on television.

I'm Totally Lost

So who saw Lost last night? Take the title of this post seriously -- I have no idea what's going on on that island. I'm so confused! Can someone explain it to me? I kept thinking I was missing really important, revealing clues that would explain crucial aspects of the story to me, but they were all just flying right over my head as I stared blankly at the screen saying, "What? What's going on? I don't understand!"

And still, I love that show.

I Have a Green Thumb for Couch Potatoes

My new favorite channel: Sprout.

What can I say? The girls are sick. (And today we find out they have asthma to boot. Fantastic.) Everyone is grumpy and tired and needs a distraction. Who better than Tinky-Winky, Dipsy, La-La, and Po?

I know there are plenty of critics, but I say "Hooray!" for 24-hour toddler-oriented programming.

Welcome, Libby!

For those of you who have been following Kerri's extended pregnancy, good news! Elizabeth ("Libby") was finally born yesterday afternoon, only 9 days overdue and after nearly a day of labor. Congratulations, Kerri and Martin!

Why I'm Considering Homeschooling

What is wrong with this country?

Truck driver kills three girls in Amish school shooting

Principal killed at Wisconsin school; 9th-grader charged

Sheriff: School shooter sent letter to say sorry

Gunman spotted, 2 Vegas schools locked down

Federal funds to prevent school violence dropping

From that last article:

"From 1992 to 2002, 261 people ages 5 to 19 were killed at school, according to federal statistics. The worst years -- 1992-93 and 1997-98 -- saw 34 deaths, and the lowest total was 12, in 2000-01."

Kelly, the Amazing Relationship Counselor

I'm a big fan of The Amazing Race. It's one of the few reality shows I really get interested in. (That and the cooking shows -- when does Top Chef season 2 start??)

I'm fascinated by the Race because it showcases the world and because it brings home the fact that so many of my countrymen and -women fall into the Ugly American stereotype. Few are the contestants who really seem to appreciate the sights they're seeing and the cultures they get to experience. Too many are those who seem to view the world with a sense of superiority and condescension.

That, however, is not the aspect of the Race we'll be discussing today. Rather, our topic of conversation is this: Why is it that at least one team on every season is a couple who's using the Race to try to work out whether they really belong together? This season, it's Rob and Kimberly. Here's what the official Amazing Race site has to say about them:

"Rob & Kimberly met while bartending in Los Angeles, California. The young couple has been dating for two years and recently moved in together. Their primary reason for running the Race is to see if their relationship can withstand the intensity and pressure of traveling around the world at such a frantic pace."

The show is constantly showing clips of Rob and Kimberly saying things like, "We're at that point in our relationship when we need to decide whether to get married or go our separate ways."

What?? I'm sorry, but I don't think any healthy relationship ever reaches that point. You're happy together, or you're not. If you both want to get married, great! If not, that's okay too. If one does and the other doesn't, well, you have some issues to work out. But don't just say to yourselves that you've been together for X years, and that's the time when you're supposed to get married, so you'd better fish or cut bait.

These couples are letting society's expectations (or, rather, their perceptions of society's expectations) dictate for them the path of their relationship. It's not about whether they're happy with each other and their relationship -- it's about whether they're supposed to be happy. And whether they're supposed to be happier if they get married.

What an incredibly bad reason to get married.

Now, I don't pretend to be a relationship expert. (Well, sometimes I do.) I do have a marriage that I think everyone should envy, but every relationship is different and needs to be dealt with on its own terms. Perhaps it's conceivable that there are couples out there for whom this kind of thinking works -- maybe it really does make them happy to do what they think society wants them to do. (It's also possible, just maybe, that we don't see the whole story with these couples, but rather just the snippets of interviews CBS thinks will make for good TV. So it isn't really fair to judge them, is it? But I do anyway.)

Get married if you want to. Don't if you don't want to. If you're not sure, work it out. Talk about it. But don't take your relationship on national television and air your differences and fears and grievances there. If you feel like your relationship needs to pass some sort of test to prove it works, maybe you've already failed the test.

The Story of Evelyn and Sophia

After reading this post over at Nanette's Underachieving Mommy, I am inspired to write about my pregnancy.

(Many of you know the story, so feel free to skip this retelling. I'll see you back here next time, when we'll discuss my incredulity at the fact that Rachel Ray is America's second-most-trusted celebrity.)

Getting pregnant was the easy part. It took only five months of trying, and that last month we weren't really trying very hard. It was December, we were stressed out and busy with holiday parties, gigs, trying to get our annual holiday CD out the door (someday, friends, we'll start that tradition back up again, but I don't think this is the year).

So we were kind of taking the month off from trying to get pregnant, which is apparently what it took to get the job done. The timing was nice -- we found out a few days before Christmas, so on Christmas Day we shared the news with our parents and brothers -- and swore them to secrecy. Not another soul was to know until we were out of the first trimester and in the (mythical) pregnancy safe zone.

Two weeks later, spotting and cramping sent me to the OB in a panic. It was a week before my first scheduled visit, but I was convinced a miscarriage was underway. Poor Airan was on a train from downtown, desperately trying to get to the hospital in time to be there for the ultrasound, but he didn't even come close. So I was all alone with the ultrasound tech when I got the big news -- two heartbeats, two little sacs, two babies.

(Ironic, because I'd just spent a few months teasing my pregnant friend Mary Beth about how she was eating for three, right up until her 20-week ultrasound, when she found out she was having twins. It was my karmic backlash -- I wished twins on MB, and I got them myself in return.)

So another round of phone calls to the parents and brothers with even more big news. Much rejoicing! And a little bit of fear -- because of my osteogenesis imperfecta and thus my low muscle tone, I was scared that my body wouldn't be able to keep it together through a twins pregnancy. My OB was optimistic, but I had doubts.

And just a few years earlier, my cousin Jim and his wife had premature twin boys who stayed in a NICU for six weeks after their birth -- I remember being terrified by pictures of those tiny little preemies, thinking they looked so tired, so world-weary, so fragile. How can such tiny babies survive in the world? But they did survive and thrive, and so I tried not to be too afraid.

At this point, it wasn't even crossing my mind that the twins might have inherited OI from me. I knew it was a possibility, but I wasn't worried. My OI wasn't diagnosed until I was seven, so I assumed that, if the twins did have OI, we wouldn't know or have to deal with it for years.

And so the first trimester went happily along, with lots of morning sickness, a queasy but otherwise fun trip to Paris, the barest beginnings of sort of starting to get ready for twins. We had OB visits every other week, with ultrasound heartbeat checks every time, so we were amassing quite a collection of in utero baby pictures.

At week 17, we got the ultrasound tech to place her bets on the babies' genders. She wouldn't give us 100% certainty, but she was 90-95% sure we had a couple of girls in there. Much rejoicing! Half the family confessed to secretly hoping for girls. (Honestly, I'd been sort of hoping for boys because I remember what a horrible bitch I was as a 13-year-old, but as soon as I got the girls verdict, I was converted. Girls rule!)

A few more weeks of happiness/nausea, and then the 20-week level II ultrasound. We should have been suspicious when the ultrasound tech, after chatting away through her evaluation of baby A (Evelyn), suddenly clammed up and was silent as she took measurements of baby B (Sophia). But we didn't notice. And when the doctor came in, all serious, asking me questions about my OI, still it didn't occur to us that anything was amiss. And then she showed us Sophia's femur, her thigh bone, and pointed out the fact that it appeared to be broken. And bowed. And not quite as long as it should be. And that was our evidence, years before I expected it, that at least one of the twins had OI.

It seems, as I write this, like this discovery shouldn't have been that big a deal. So what if Sophie has OI? I've lived my life with this disease. Yeah, it's really sucked at times, but it's never been life threatening, and it's never prevented me from doing anything I really wanted to do. (I never wanted to go skiing anyway. Roller skating, however...) And being an adorable seven-year-old trapped in the hospital for weeks on end has its advantages -- never in my life have I had such good luck getting people to bring me stuffed animals and root beer floats and anything else my heart desires.

Here's why I was so upset to learn about Sophie's (and, in a few more ultrasounds, Evie's) OI:

1) I know what it's like. I know having OI sucks. And I think, when I was growing up, it must have been much harder for my parents than it was for me. So I was scared for them and scared for us.

2) I did this to them. I knew full well that any child I have has a 50% chance of inheriting OI from me. I casually chose to believe that I wouldn't pass it on, that everything would be just fine, that we'd beat the odds. I am to blame for this, and had I not been so blase, so careless, I could have prevented this. (Here's where I choose not to think about the fact that, had we actually used genetic testing and in-vitro fertilization to avoid passing on OI, the egg(s) that became Sophie and Evie would have been discarded, and those precious girls would never have existed.)

We had only a few more weeks to deal with this knowledge before the next blow came. At my 25-week routine appointment, they couldn't get a good look at my cervix on the ultrasound. The OB did an internal exam and found that my cervix was completely effaced and I was starting to dilate. With 15 weeks to go.

Bed rest. They let me spend the first few days at home, but then (skip ahead, o ye of weak stomach) I lost my mucus plug. Airan rushed me to the hospital, where they discovered that I was having contractions. They drugged me and kept me in the hospital, dangling the promise that maybe in a few more days they'd let me go home to finish out my bed rest. Cue the amniotic fluid leak. Not a gushing flow, just a slow, steady leak. (I now understand why water torture is so effective -- especially if it were to involve your girl parts.)

No hope of going back home now. A fluid leak meant a risk of infection, so they had to monitor me and the babies several times a day to make sure we were all still healthy. At this point, the best they were hoping for was to get me to 34 weeks -- and from 26 weeks, that seems like a very, very long time to be stuck in the hospital on bed rest. Alas, I didn't get to find out just how awful that would be.

At 28 weeks, my water broke for real. Hard labor hit, and I spent the night writhing and moaning in a delivery room, hoping they could get the labor to stop, knowing we were looking at an emergency C-section first thing in the morning.

How can it be that the most terrifying day of your life is also the best? My tiny, tiny babies came into the world 12 weeks before they should have. They couldn't breathe without help, they couldn't eat, they had to be kept in incubators to maintain their body heat. That instinct that kicks in when you have a baby, the overwhelming need to protect and care for and provide -- useless. There wasn't anything I could do for them. But that's the day I got to meet them, finally got to see those little people who had been screwing up my life for the past six months (and who will continue to do so for the next 18 years), and welcoming them into the world was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

The girls stayed in the NICU for 10 weeks. The 10 longest, hardest weeks ever. In the beginning, while it wasn't exactly easy to leave them there, we knew and accepted that it was necessary. They couldn't breathe, they couldn't eat. They couldn't come home. But as they got bigger and stronger, as they were weaned off the breathing apparatus, as they learned to drink from a bottle, as they were moved from their little heater isolettes to open-air cribs, it got harder and harder to leave them there every night, to go home without them to an empty condo, a deserted nursery with two gaping cribs.

I started to lose it. Once-respected doctors became quacks, crackpots. Who let these idiots out of medical school? They didn't know how to care for my children. Nurses who had been friends and confidants became The Enemy. They didn't know how to care for my babies. I needed to get those girls home, where I could make sure they were getting the care they needed. I could feed them and change them and handle them carefully -- I didn't want those ham-handed nurses laying a finger on the girls.

Discharge came not a day too soon.

And, truly, happily, ever since those girls came home, life has been grand. Sure, we've had many sleepless nights. We have the occasional scare. Two babies/toddlers are a handful, that's for sure, and when you throw in a few special needs, things are even more complicated. But I wouldn't change a thing. The rocky path we took got us exactly where I want to be. Y'all know I'm not religious, so I won't say there was some sort of plan or destiny or any such nonsense. But we make the best of what life hands us, and I love my lot in life.

So that's the story. Still with me? Don't worry, I won't blame you if you skipped a paragraph or two. It's a long saga, and we all have our stories of hardship. I don't think mine is especially outstanding or unusual. It's just a big part of what got me where I am today, so it is (understandably) interesting to me. I hope you're not too bored, and I promise to move on to lighter topics next time.