Due Date

Had the twins been born on their due date, today would be their first birthday. That's a strange thought when their actual first birthday party was so very long ago. Yet another reminder of how lucky we are that the girls are happy and well.

Downsizing

Lately, I've been semi-seriously considering breast-reduction surgery. I've always had more than I need in that department, and I'm sick and tired of the chronic upper-back pain that comes with being amply endowed.

So I've been surfing the web in search of breast-reduction information. WebMD, for example, says large breasts affect nearly 1 million American women. (I'd never really thought of large breasts as an affliction before. And I'd add that they also have an affect on countless American men.) MayoClinic.com cautions that breast-reduction surgery can result in asymmetrical breasts. (Shudder.) BFAR.org offers our society's perceived link between large breasts and promiscuity as a possible reason for seeking reduction surgery. (Seriously? I can't imagine having a plastic surgeon carve up my flesh just so people won't see my curves and deduce I'm a woman of easy virtues.)

I find myself leaning against surgery, and not just because it seems awfully extreme. It's not like I'm one of those poor women who wear size F cups. (My C/Ds seem meager by comparison.) The surgery comes with long-term changes to your body, including scarring and possible loss of sensation. However, I'm finding that my main reason for balking at the surgery isn't because of the medical risks. I have to confess that I'm reluctant to change the shape of my body, even in the face of ongoing pain. I don't think it's vanity -- I wouldn't exactly say I'm proud of this rack of mine. It's just that it is mine, along with all of my other imperfections, and I hesitate to alter it for any reason. Do I need to just get over my reservations and pursue the surgery? I don't know. More research is called for.

As small-breasted women say, "More than a mouthful is more than enough." Maybe it's time for me to embrace that philosophy.

The Countdown

Only eleven shopping days!

Where's the Do Not Call list when you need it?

Dear People for the American Way, Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, Democratic National Committee, MoveOn.org, Democracy for America, et al.,

Yes, I sympathize. I'm on your side. I love that your web sites let me send boilerplate faxes to my elected officials expressing cookie-cutter outrage about a variety of topics. (I'm sure that tactic is very effective.) I think you're on the side of Good and Right and the True Spirit of America.

That said, leave me alone! Stop emailing me, and most of all, stop calling me! Stop calling me after 8:00 at night when my young children are in bed! I got two calls last night within ten minutes of putting the girls down for the night. Do you know how incredibly annoying that is? It does not make me think kindly about giving financial support to your organization, that's for sure.

And to all the people who give these or any other organizations money when they call: Knock it off! Telemarketing is not an acceptable practice. You only encourage them and make life hell for the rest of us when you reward their efforts with your cash. Don't make me come to your house.

Goodbye, Morning Nap

Ah, Morning Nap. Must we part ways so soon? Everyone told me you wouldn't stick around forever. I knew the day would come when you'd abandon us. I'm just not ready to let you go.

Everyone tells you when you have a newborn (or two) in the house to sleep when they sleep. If they're napping, you nap. I took that advice to heart, Morning Nap. Every time you showed up, the whole house took advantage of it. Even long after the girls started sleeping through the night and I was actually getting plenty of rest -- still I clung to you. Every morning, while you held the twins in your sweet embrace, I too would steal precious moments of somnolescence.

Now that you're gone, you've left me alone with Afternoon Nap -- and just between you and me, he's not that reliable. I never know when he's going to show up or how long he'll stay. I just can't count on him. (That said, the day Afternoon Nap leaves us, I'll fear for my sanity. At that point, I can start shipping the girls off to preschool, right?)

Rest in peace, Morning Nap. I wish I could.

She's Fine

Obviously, there ain't nothin' wrong with this girl.

Crisis Kelly to the Rescue

This afternoon, I experienced what I'm going to call my second-most-terrifying moment of post-NICU motherhood. (Some other day, I'll blog about the time I locked the girls in the car.) Everything seems to be fine now, although the situation does call for some close monitoring over the next few days.

It's pretty incredible how motherhood changes the way you cope with crisis situations. In the past, I wasn't so good with a crisis. The shaking, the tears, and the gripping fear all got in the way of my ability to actually handle anything. I was totally incapable of keeping my cool. Panic would set in almost immediately, and I was pretty much useless from then on out.

But today, as I watched Sophia shove her high chair over backwards while she was strapped in it, as I scooped up and surveyed the red-faced, screeching, thrashing toddler, a calm, collected, business-like me somehow superimposed herself over my normally panic-stricken freakazoid reaction to adverse events. While an insistent, shrieking voice in the back of my head blathered on about Sophia's osteogenesis imperfecta, her brittle bones, her predisposition (inherited from her mother) to break bones in situations that would leave someone else with a bruise (she broke her femur in utero, for crying out loud -- where are you safer than in the womb?), Crisis Kelly calmly ignored the blathering and focused on a) calming Sophia down and b) determining whether anything was seriously wrong.

Crisis Kelly deduced that no baby who thrashes that much can be seriously injured. Crisis Kelly put a somewhat-mollified Sophia down on the floor so she could demonstrate her ability to crawl normally. Crisis Kelly then decided that Sophia was probably fine and returned her to the high chair (far, far away from anything she could shove off of), gave her back her afternoon snack food, moved Evelyn's high chair far, far away from anything she could shove off of, and then called the doctor's office.

Crisis Kelly discussed the situation with the on-call doctor in a calm, rational, just-the-fact-ma'am manner. The doctor agreed that Sophia is most likely fine (she "got lucky," as the doctor put it) and suggested that Crisis Kelly keep an eye on her and bring her in to the ER if any suspicious symptoms arise. At this point, with professional confirmation that everything was probably fine, Crisis Kelly began to step down. And then the doctor gave a stern lecture about how I was not allowed to feel any guilt about allowing Sophia to shove her high chair over backwards -- it's a good thing Crisis Kelly wasn't totally gone, because otherwise I'd have collapsed into a blubbering puddle.

I kept it together long enough to put the girls down for their afternoon nap. And now that all seems to be well, danger is gone, crisis averted, I can't stop shaking. I want to curl up in a ball and cry for an hour.

I need Crisis Kelly to run my life.

Movers and Shakers

It looks like the editors over at USA Today have been visiting this blog.

(Thanks to Sarah for alerting me to this -- I had no idea my influence was spreading so far.)

Take the Bus

I heard a story on NPR yesterday about how gas prices in Chicago, which are allegedly the highest in the country, are beginning to ease up. Would someone please mention that to my local gas station?

Eight is Enough Update

Huzzah! Reason prevails over sentimentality! It looks like the International Astronomical Union is poised to reject a resolution that would allow Pluto to keep its status as a planet. That chunk of rock is about to be demoted, and it's high time!

To celebrate, I'm going to offer up a few new mnemonic devices to help school children remember the order of the eight planets in our solar system (Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune):

• My Very Educated Mother Just Sat Upon Nails
• Most Vultures Eat Melons Jauntily, Smiling Under Nests
• More Verisimilitude Eludes Most Journalists Saying Utterly Nothing
• Many Volcanoes Erupt Monthly Just So U'll Notice (okay, that one doesn't quite work)

(Perhaps my celebration is a bit premature -- we'll have to keep an eye on those wiley scientists and makes sure they don't abandon their anti-Pluto leanings. More updates to come, most likely.)

8/24/06 Update: CNN is reporting this morning that Pluto has been demoted! Now, I'm sensitive to the fact that many clung to Pluto's planethood for sentimental reasons, and that this news saddens them. However, I confess I'm pleased that the astronomers managed to set aside their warm, fuzzy feelings for Pluto and deal with the issue in a rational manner. Good work, IAU!