Archive for the Twins Category

Today was (finally) the first day back at school (hooray!) for the 4 year olds (yippee!).

And I didn’t sleep a wink last night.

All summer long, as we trudged through gymnastics classes, swimming lessons, and day after long day here at home, I’ve said that I absolutely cannot wait until these two are separated in school for a few hours a day. Spending every waking moment together is taxing on them, and spending every waking moment with them has had me locking myself in a closet to escape the unholy dramaz.

Last year when our preschool director asked if I would be interested in separating them because they were such a distraction to each other, I tucked her concerns safely in my pocket, but the answer was “Not yet.” I just wasn’t ready. Even as the school year ended and I knew I would have to make a decision for the next year, I still fidgeted when I thought about it.

But this summer made it clear that times were a changing. The girls need some quality time apart so that the time they spend together will hold even more quality and less beating each other over the head with My Little Ponies.

Still, I tossed and turned in the nights preceding our first day.

Despite having talked about it, there was some apprehension on Claire’s part during orientation when we split them up to meet their teachers. This girl, who is so brazen and even bossy at home, she’s the one who thrives on the twinship more. She gets more upset when they fight. She seems to need it all more. And as their mother and the one who is mostly responsible for making sure they grow up to be sound, confident individuals, it’s both heartwarming and terrifying at the same time. I couldn’t help but lay in bed at night and imagine her sitting in her classroom, playing apathetically, and missing her sister.

I know I made the right decision, but my apprehension and worry surprise me.

When my girls were born 9 weeks early and thrived in separate isolettes in the NICU for five weeks, I worried the silly worries that they wouldn’t bond like twins that were together from day one. Even twin moms get caught up in the fantasy of having children with such a closeness that nothing can shake it. Do they miss each other? Do they even remember the constant presence of another being right next to them since conception? Does it even matter?

But then there was today. The first day. And things seem to have fallen into place perfectly. Both girls have familiar aspects in their class that will give them a dose of comfort. Rachel knows and loves her teacher, who we started with last year before moving to a new class. She gave her sister a big hug and kiss, and wished her a good day. She missed me some towards the end of the day, and nearly knocked me over when she saw me.

Claire’s class boasts the name of her very favorite animal — the Frogs, and upon quietly entering and finding her name on the wall, requested to play with some. Her teacher pulled out a whole bin of green frogs of all shapes and sizes, and she was in heaven. She got to see her sister at recess, lunch and music class. The teachers told me that they reunited like they’d been apart for days. But they did well.

I know my worries aren’t silly, but they’re lessening. These girls have a bond that I will never understand, but I must respect. Still, they need to be separated from the unit that often makes twins inseparable in other people’s minds. They each need the opportunity to express themselves apart from their sister and show what they can do. These days with less distractions will allow them to shine as Claire and as Rachel, not ClaireandRachel.

And these girls? They have a lot of shining to do.

I think they’re going to be okay.


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The de-cribbing

This past weekend we decided to take a huge leap in taking the fronts off the twins’ cribs.

Yes they are almost four, and yes they have still been happily sleeping in cribs until now. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. We knew this day had to come, but like just about every other project we have on the list, it gets put off because we’re lazy like that. The back burner is our comfort zone.

It actually wasn’t my decision. I made the mistake of going to a baby shower, and I came back to find Christian mid de-cribbing. He does that, you know, jumps into things. I mean to draw up ideas and supply lists for a sandbox, then come home one day to find him digging a hole in the backyard with no real plan. I think about how to make the kids’ rooms more feng shui-ier, he just starts rearranging the furniture and hanging stuff on the walls, but still lacking the feng shui, and actually making me twitch sometimes. Let’s put it this way: I send him to the store for milk and bananas, he comes home with a $50 receipt and enough Cheez Its to feed a small army. I’m a planner. He’s a doer. Actually, no, he’s a starter. Doer indicates that things get finished. On that note I call us both guilty. With three small people and minimal free time, the last thing we want to do with time to ourselves is dig a hole in the backyard or sand 1/16 of an inch off of a door so that it will close properly.

But now here we were, the decision made, the de-cribbing completed, and taking the leap into big girl land. I have a mind to make them twin sized beds by altering this tutorial from Design Mom, but didn’t you just read the part above about the projects and the back burner and the laziness and such?

I’ve actually looked forward to this day. Leaning over their cribs to scratch backs, stroke hair, and change sheets is awfully uncomfortable on my ribcage, so naturally I avoided the latter as much as possible. I fantasized about being able to snuggle up in bed with them under blankets, reading our favorite stories and talking about their days as they relaxed into my comfort. But I think we still have a ways to go because our bedtimes are still hella chaotic around here what with the hair brushing, jammy dressing, and pre-bedtime psychotic energy surges. And when will I remember to brush their teeth on a consistent basis?

So as far as the weekend went, we had a great first night with no back to bed reminders and only 2 out of bed rollers for Rachel, who was quite sad to find herself startled awake on the floor. And? They didn’t even get out of bed when they woke up in the morning, opting for their usual “Mommyyyyy? Daaaaaad!” At 7:15. I feigned complete ignorance and sudden deafness and may have even kicked their father out of the bed to tend to them.

Night two was a little trickier, as they weren’t very sleepy thanks to a 10 minute cat nap in the car. Lots of giggling and cackling, and I finally went in to find them laying side by side in Rachel’s bed, covered up, and sharing some sort of wacky, hilarious moment. I didn’t have the heart to split them up, but by the 9th time of going in there, the moment had lost its adorable factor and it was “Get in bed, put your head down, and go. to. sleep. or no Valentine’s party at school tomorrow don’t you know that I will tell your teacher and she will cancel the whole thing and all of your classmates will be disappointed and no one will play with you and then all of the frustration I spent trying to get you to write your name on your valentines is wasted!”

Alas, there really was no special secret. I just had to wait for them to poop out, and they did, like an hour and a half after we put them to bed. And after I removed their Busy Zoo from the room because bead mazes are just so much more fun in the dark.

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I was THAT mom. And that one. And that one.

I always hear women refer to themselves as “that mom.” Usually in a negative context and likely taking their impressions from behaviors they’ve seen in others that they don’t really wish to emulate. Like “I was that mom who had to drag my three kids kicking and screaming out of the library in the middle of story time and THEN I was that mom who yelled ferociously at them in the car because they ruined everything!”

Not that I would know. Ahem.

Being “that mom” doesn’t have to be a negative thing. Before Christmas there was a day when I was lucky enough to be several moms — moms that I had been before, and many I had not.


I was that mom who had her hands full out shopping by herself with two rambunctious 3.5 year olds. I know I had my hands full because at least 7 people stopped to tell me that.

Two minutes in I was that mom who threatened to “turn around and leave this store right now if you don’t put that back and stay with me!” …Target and your dollar section, I curse you. But also I kinda love you? It’s a complicated relationship.

I was that mom who bribed her kids with the opportunity to unshelve the entire toy section if they would just stay put and let her look at the kids’ shoes for 2 minutes please!

Yes, I was that mom whose voice everyone constantly heard calling out “Claaaaairrrrre! Raaachellllll!” Then in a frantic half-whisper because you don’t want to yell, but yeah you kinda really want to yell, “Get over here!!!” when the bribing didn’t work.

I was that mom who actually survived lunch in a busy restaurant with two 3.5 year olds. And actually got to eat. And actually enjoyed it.

And I was that mom who saw the couple next to her, juggling not even one year old twins, an older child, and all the gear that comes with and yearned to tell them that it gets easier.

But instead I was that mom who smiled but held her tongue because really? It doesn’t get that much easier. It just gets different. Less crap to carry, more crap to deal with, really.

And for a moment I was that mom who kind of liked being someone’s “See? It won’t always be this hard.”

Then I was that mom who dragged her kids to another store with no cart in which to put them, and prayed that they wouldn’t disappear or break anything.

And yeah, I was that mom who yawned and tweeted on her phone while her kids were engrossed in God knows what.

But then I was that mom who had to go back into that store after her kids were half buckled in their seats because she had that kid who insisted on taking that stuffed puppy into the store and promptly abandoned him in favor of that shiny Lightening McQueen display.

I was that mom who had to drag her kids out of the store because apparently they thought we came back in to play with more toys.

I was that mom who went home frustrated because I was that mom who waited until the last minute to try and find simple black dress shoes for her kids at Christmas time. But in that mom’s defense, getting out and going shopping isn’t the easiest or most enticing thing to do with three kids, especially during the holidays.

But I was that mom who braved the ridiculous holiday shopping with her two crazy girls, had a fantastic lunch, didn’t lose any kids, and lived to tell about it. And actually enjoyed it.

If by enjoy you mean “I only went 2 places but damn I feel like we ran all over town because I am freaking exhausted.”

So then I was that mom who put on a Strawberry Shortcake DVD so she could put her feet up a while.

Did I find any shoes? No. So I may be that mom who sends her kids to school in their Christmas best with their dingy old Stride Rites on their feet.*

What mom are you?

*After coming home, taking a break from shopping, and recharging our batteries, we piled everyone back into the car for a family shoe seeking excursion. And found shoes at the first place I ran into. No one else even got out of the car. What. The. Hell.

eating out with twins chipotle

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On the separation issue

When I entered the girls’ MDO to drop off some books for their Christmas book exchange later that day, the director caught me in the hallway.

“Can I run something by you real quick?”

“Sure,” I answered, feeling much less apprehensive than the last time she asked to talk to me. The girls have been doing well in school, they love their teacher, and no one’s come home with any notes pinned to their shirts informing me that they gave little Billy their best left hook. I mean, I don’t even think either of them is left handed, much to my dismay.

“The other day…when you brought them to school separately,” she started, referencing one day in which Claire stayed home sick and another in which Rachel was throwing the tantrum of the century and I had no choice but to leave her home with her father while I took Claire to school, “…they’re really different when they’re not together!”

I nodded in agreement and told her that yes, I do notice the difference when I have one without the other, and honestly, I was thrilled that the school noticed. It doesn’t happen often, but taking them on separate errands is one of my favorite things to do. Each one of them flourishes as her own person, talking to me, and paying attention to her surroundings instead of her sister. She has me all to herself and lets me further into that vibrant personality that I know is there, but is so often masked by the “unit” that is a set of identical twins.

As a twin parent, I love seeing that their teacher can distinguish between the two of them, not just by what they’re wearing, but by the small nuances in their looks and the vast differences in their personalities.

And I knew what she was going to say next.

“What would you think about putting them in separate classes?”

I fumbled for an answer to bury the “Whatchoo talking ’bout, Willis!” that immediately tried to escape my lips. I knew she must have valid reasons, and I prayed that those reasons didn’t involve fist fulls of hair my girls were pulling out of each other.

The issue with my girls is that they do just about everything together. They sleep in the same room. They wake up together, eat meals together, play together, bathe together, and now they go to school together. Even when they’re not getting along, I can’t get them to give each other some space and engage in separate activities. They always want to do what the other is doing, and they’re so comfortable with one another that they have absolutely no qualms about fighting, taking toys, or stabbing each other in the eye with a crayon.

But that wasn’t the issue here. Although she told me that they do fight occasionally, the problem is that they often have trouble transitioning from play time to learning time, which isn’t that hard to deal with when it’s just one kid. But in their case, Rachel might stall sitting in the circle by pulling out toys or abandon an art project in favor of riffling through the cabinets, and then Claire is often tempted to do the same. So instead of having to coax one child back into the activity, the teacher and her aide are wrangling both of them.

Welcome to my world. Here let me thrown in a 23 month old so you can really get a feel for it. Ahem.

The director explained that she felt each girl would really flourish individually not having her sister to distract her. Instead of modeling each other’s behavior, they would start to model that of the other kids. (The ones who actually do what they’re told, I presume.) “Just a thought,” she said, and encouraged me to talk it over with Christian.

Man, few things will make you feel like a bad mom more than a suggestion from your kid’s teacher, director, or principal. Over the (agonizingly long) Christmas break I emailed some questions to their teacher. She told me that yes, they fight, but not every day. Sometimes they get physical with each other, but never the other children (whew!). They play together in class, but don’t shut out other kids, and on the playground they usually go off and do their own separate thing. She explained that Rachel started out as more boisterous than Claire, but recently Claire has been doing her share of swiping toys, hitting, or pulling hair, again just between the two of them, thankfully. But the main issue seems to be that they are a distraction to each other. And this is where she and the director feel that they would benefit being apart, so they can model the other children as opposed to each other.

And I know she’s right. I know that Rachel and Claire can seem like completely different kids, in a good way, when without their other half. I know that their behavior, good and bad, is often led by one of them. I know they would benefit from time apart. I actually complain that they need time apart, and school is the only chance for them to really get it on a regular basis.

And yet still I hesitate. My first instinct is to say, “No. Keep them together.” But why? Why, when I know this will be a good thing for them, do I resist it?

There’s just this thing with twins that makes us think that they need to be together. They’re a set, a unit, both in our minds and in front of our eyes, we often fear that we’re taking something away from them by splitting them up, even for a few hours a day, when in reality, we could be doing them a disservice by insisting that they stay together.

I know several twin moms who have separated their kids in school, and many who have chosen to keep them together. Here in Texas, the parent gets the final word on whether or not to separate. Maybe one twin willingly takes a backseat to the other, so separation will help him come out of his shell and build his confidence. Maybe the twins fight constantly, and separate classes give them a much needed break from each other, along with the satisfaction of having their own friends and teachers. Or maybe one twin relies heavily on the other, and separating them at this point would be truly traumatic for him. We fall in none of these categories, meaning I needed to rely on my mom instincts, which I often admit I am mostly without.

When they were babies, Claire was the leader, the front runner, the spunky, outgoing one, while Rachel was the quiet, shy, sensitive one. In the past year that’s changed. Rachel talks to every single person she sees, asking them what they’re doing, where they’re going, and whether or not they have to go potty. She’s gained a bit of confidence and no longer relents to what Claire wants to do all the time. She doesn’t give in as willingly anymore. On the other hand, Claire’s turned inwards a bit. She’s still a feisty, fun loving kid, but she no longer dominates play time like she used to. Her mood and emotions are determined largely in part by whether or not she’s getting along with Rachel. Now she’s the one who hides her face in my leg when among strangers, and she’s the one that often misses her sister more when they’re apart.

In separating them, I worried that they would miss each other, that one of them would have to leave her comfortable surroundings and acclimate to a new class, new teacher, new room. In keeping them together, I worried about the strain it would place on the teacher and the class aide. I was afraid that they would be burdened by having to focus on my girls so much. My good friend Vanessa, twin mom to boys 4 days older than my girls, assured me that I was raising strong willed and confident girls who would each do well in their own environment if I chose to separate them. My good friend Reba, an elementary school assistant principal, spoke from an administrative standpoint. She reminded me, “This is their job. This is what they are paid to do. Don’t worry about them. If you want your girls together, keep them together, that’s all there is to it.”

I had three long weeks to weigh my options, but from the get go I knew what I was going to do. I knew separating them would have its benefits, that they would still have plenty of togetherness at home, and that a separation could even encourage them to appreciate that togetherness. Yet a part of me was still sad. They’ve already changed classes once this year. They both absolutely adore their teacher. But mainly…well, I’m just not ready. Again, just like last time, it’s me, not them.

I’m not ready to separate them. I want them together. They’re little, only three. They’re each other’s best friend (and worst enemy, but we’ll stick with friend for now). They have plenty of years to follow their own distinct paths, and that may very well begin next fall if I grow some balls. But this year, their first year at school, they’re together. And I need to know that they’re there for each other. Even if it’s just for confidence’s sake. Even if it’s just to have someone to play cars with. Even if it is just to take each other’s toys.

The comforts of home, right?

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A Christmas mixup

Last week my family came from Dallas to visit for a little pre Christmas celebration. We opened gifts, had a marvelous Christmas dinner {cooked by ME}, and went downtown to view the huge tree of lights at Zilker Park, where we promptly froze our asses off and barely stayed long enough to snap a photo and snag a bag of freshly popped kettle corn. And the kettle corn? WORTH IT.

Zilker Park tree of lights

The view from inside the tree

My three girls and their 2.5 year old cousin had a blast opening gifts while the five adults screamed obscenities like, “Oh! What did you GET?!” or “WOW! Look at THAT!!!” and “Isn’t this FUN?!?!”

In a rare moment of free hands, I grabbed my camera to document the magic of Christmas. Or the magic of my kids’ heads since no one ever looks at me for a photo EVER.

So in the midst of “Open THIS one!” and “Hey, finish opening this one before you reach for another…oh hell, who cares?” there was me.

“Rachel! Raaaachelllll! Rachel! Look at Mommy!”

The kids continued with their paper tearing, toy viewing, general ignoring the woman with the camera.

“Rachelllllllll… me your happy face! Happy face, Rachel! HAPPY FAAAAAAAACE!!!!!!!!!” By now I’ve turned into some kind of crazed paparazzi like stage mom coaxing her kid to “Smile, dammit!”

“Hellooooooooooooo……Rachel! Look at me! Lookatme! Lookatme! Happy face!”

I glanced away from the camera viewing screen and stared at the band of kids below me. There sat Claire, Zoe, our cousin Cheyenne…all ignoring me.

All but Rachel. Who was sitting at my feet, giving me a happy face so big it lit up like a Christmas tree. Waiting patiently for me to STOP barking at her sister and take her picture like I keep saying I will.

So the next time you feel bad because you can’t tell someone’s twins apart, don’t. Because apparently even I can’t tell my own apart.

twins walking red coats

You're turn...which one's which? {Pssst! I don't even know.}

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High on life. Or sugar.

This week I’m linking up a little video for iPhone Photo Phun. I couldn’t resist letting y’all see a peek into life with two three year olds and one not-yet two year old.


The real question is….

How much sugar has the big kid had???


Now go check out Liz and Kristin’s linkup!

iPhone Photo Phun

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What I wish I’d known about having twins

Several weeks ago I was asked to give my input for an article from iVillage Canada on what I wish I’d known about having twins. Out of the three questions I answered, one of my quotes was chosen to include in the article. I’m so a published reporter now, right?

My friend Nicole, who writes for Live Mom, sent me the query from her source, and although I only had a matter of minutes to send in my answers for the tight deadline, it was interesting looking back throughout the past 3 and a half years and wracking my brain, trying to figure out what, if anything, I wish I had known before having twins. I encourage you to read the entire article, but here I’m showing you all of my answers, including the one that was published.

What I wish I’d known about having twins

I can’t say that there’s anything I wish I’d known. I think every expectant twin mom needs to be prepared for the debilitating lack of sleep and the crying, oh the crying! But with our twins being our first children, we really don’t know any different. We don’t know what parenting one child is like, so for us, ignorance is bliss in a way. As someone told me once, “You’ve never had just one baby, so you don’t realize how hard you’re working with two.”


What no one told me about having twins

No one told me that I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Is it hard? Of course. Did we wonder why we were given this challenge? You bet. But once these 2 people enter your life, you can’t imagine life with just one of them. We ask ourselves, “If we had only had one, which one would it be?” I love everything about them both so much that I don’t really want to know.

{This was a loaded question, but really, SO MANY people tell you how hard having twins is going to be, how hard breast feeding is, how good your chances are of ending up in the NICU…I honestly think more expectant twin moms need to know what a complete joy twins are. When they’re not going through the Thundering Threes and driving each other, and you, completely mad.}


The most difficult part of having twins

One of the most difficult things about having twins is guilt. You can figure out logistics like feeding them at the same time, or putting one in the swing while you rock the other. But twin moms almost always feel guilty. Guilt for not getting to spend as much one on one time with them. Guilt for having to let one cry while you deal with the other one. Guilt for sometimes wishing there was just one of them. {This was the chosen answer!}

The most difficult part of having identical twins is making sure that they are recognized as individuals and not lumped into a unit. We are constantly asked who is who, even by family. I try my best not to refer to them as “the twins,” because they are more than just a set. They are two very unique individuals, and people need to recognize that, even though they look exactly alike.

{I answered these questions is such a hurry, that I seem to blow off the logistical struggles here, but don’t get me wrong, they did and still do exist. I become a sweaty mess just trying to get three kids, two backpacks, one lunch bag, and that day’s still wet craft projects — two of each — out of the school and into the car with out losing someone or getting run over. But the guilt of having to pick which crying baby to hold and sooth can be crushing.}


How can we ever really say what we wish we had known before something as life changing as having multiples, or even having kids in general? Would we want to know the whole truth about the sleepless nights of infancy? The frustrations of feeding struggles? The heartbreak of watching one of your children fight a stomach bug? So many of us fumble through this job called parenthood, learning what we can along the way, passing on tips we’ve picked up to others. But there’s no manual, no real guide to raising all of these children who are all so uniquely different. We prepare in whatever manner we can, we read whatever books are in tune with our personalities, but mostly we wing it.

And right when you feel like you’ve got it down, it changes.


What do you wish you’d known before having kids?

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Lamenting the loss of the nap

Pssst! The winner of my giveaway of The Christmas We Hoped For is at the bottom!


I’m sad. In mourning. Most of all, I’m tired.

I’m lamenting the loss of my good friend, The Nap.

We had a good run, The Nap, the twins, and I. Some people say that we were lucky to make it to three and a half years with our relationship.

But it’s over. Mostly.

He stops by from time to time, The Nap, usually after a particularly busy morning at a birthday party or something. He taunts me with what used to be. He dangles the free time in my face, shouting things that I should be doing.


“No! Do the budget!”

“You’d better clean!”

“Wait! Read! You never know when you’ll have this free time again!”

“Hell, take a nap yourself!”

The Nap is kind of a jerk like that.

So without my good friend The Nap stopping by at regular intervals, I’m busy, you know, interacting with my kids and stuff, pulling out all the stops to keep them quiet so The Nap can at least visit their baby sister.

The Nap and Rachel have broken up for good it seems. She doesn’t seem to care. It’s Claire who misses him most, even though she’d much rather play with her sister. But sometimes she asks for him, and he obliges.

starbucks red cup

No Nap also means jetting off for a coffee date!

So my days have drastically changed. I’m drinking way too much coffee, not enough water, and lunch usually consists of random scraps that the kids leave behind. My writing has decreased significantly. My blog reading has been reduced to almost nothing, which sucks, because I love reading your blog. And yours. And even yours.

But it’s not all bad. I get to snuggle in my bed with my girls and watch a movie. We get to play outside more now that it’s not 187 degrees every day. We do lots and lots of crafts.

And besides, The Nap did reintroduce us to our old friend that we missed dearly.

The Early Bedtime.

Can I get an Amen?


Congrats to Mary Beth, aka @craigswife29! She is the winner of Vanessa Peter’s new Christmas album The Christmas We Hoped For. I hope you love it as much as I do! random number generator

Congrats, and Happy Holidays!

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Happy Prematurity Awareness Day

At the grocery store last night I got some icky salmonella filled juices on my hands after picking out some leaky breakfast sausage. I held it between my forefinger and thumb and carried it in search of a plastic bag and some hand sanitizer.

As I spread the cool liquid, my hands found the old familiar pattern: into the palms, in between the fingers, over the backs, all the way up to the forearms. The alcohol scent flooded my nostrils and took me to another time, another place, a different world.

It took me to dim lights and dull linoleum floors.

Hushed voices amongst the dinging of monitors.

Bili lights, pumps, syringes, feeding tubes, wires, and leads.

The quiet bustling of nurses around tiny sleeping babies not yet ready for this world.

Anxiously listening to the daily report from the nurses, trying to comprehend all of the information and new terminology.

Holding skin to skin, covering with warm blankets, kissing tiny heads, and dozing off together.

Saying goodbye, even if only for a few short hours.

All of that from a spray of hand sanitizer.


I remember standing in my hospital gown at Claire’s bedside at 3 days old, staring at her tiny then 2 lb 12 oz body all curled up on her tummy with her bottom in the air, swimming in a preemie diaper. I remember the nurse telling me she wasn’t digesting her food, she was still losing weight, and she wasn’t sure if the doctors were going to try and insert her PICC line a third time to get her more nourishment. She was so tiny they couldn’t get it placed right, and no PICC line meant that they’d just have to keep finding new places to insert IVs in her tiny veins.

I bawled by her bed, another nurse trying to console me. I returned to my room and bawling some more. And prayed like I’ve never prayed before.

The next day she turned a corner. She was digesting her food, even if it was only 2-3 mLs.

It wasn’t long before the neonatologist started referring to them as boring. And boring was good.

Every day I look at my happy, healthy, smart, playful, and insane former featherweights and marvel at the progress they’ve made in the past three and a half years. I’m so thankful for the hard work and dedication of the doctors, nurses, volunteers, and more who all made that possible. And I’m so thankful for the love and support we received from friends and family when we needed them most.

prematurity awareness day

Today we celebrate World Prematurity Day for all of the tiny heroes out there, both in our homes and in our hearts.


This post is linked up with Bloggers Unite for World Prematurity Day.

For more information on prematurity, visit

The March of Dimes
Hand to Hold

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Tips for Baby Feeding Magic

Thanks to Plum Organics for sponsoring my post about tips for baby feeding magic. What if you let baby choose what’s for dinner? Check out their cute “Quest for Yum!” video and see what happens!


I never wanted to be the mom who dealt with the mealtime struggles. Surely my kids would all be the picture of healthy perfection, happily chowing down on all of their multicolored vegetables. Broccoli! Cauliflower! Squash! Asparagus!

Now as I struggle to get something in 20 month old Zoe that isn’t milk, cheese, or something derived from milk or cheese, I reflect back on the past, when the twins were her age.

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