Helmet Season

Jujo graduated from his helmet in January. Jojo is still in his helmet - see above. Huh? Helmet, what? Helmet is not the PC term. The PC term is DOC band. I am sick of being PC - it is a HELMET.

My twins got their helmets in October 2008 because they both had significant flat spots on their heads (termed "plagiocephaly"). I think when kids used to have flat spots the parents just said "oh, they have a flat head, oh well, at least they have hair". Not in this day and age my friends, now you get helmets.

Now, this is not to say that these helmets were not needed. Both boys had significant asymmetry in their faces because of this flat spot. So, this went beyond the mere flat head, it was affecting their face. I am not working for a perfectly round head. However, they were still beautiful to me. I never thought it was that bad. But mothers never do I guess. The doctors, physical therapists, my MIL, my Mom, J, everyone thought these helmets were for the best. So, "for the best", I (for the most part) have had to drive to Pasadena every other week (or more sometimes) for fittings, appointments, etc. I am not being a martyr here - I know there are worse things to do. There are wonderful, sad mothers who aren't seeing there kids back and forth for merely cosmetic appointments but for much more serious ailments.

But, I am a little bitter about the helmet thing and I don't know why. When they first got them, I was emotional about it. I honestly don't like seeing their cute little head covered by the helmet. We pimped out the helmets and so they look pretty cool but it doesn't change the fact that the kid is WEARING A HELMET. Jojo has never liked his helmet. He adjusted to it much more slowly than Jujo. And the poor kid of course is the one who has had to be in it longer.

Anyhow, the first helmet was ok but Jojo had heat rash issues and grew out of it rather quickly. Then, we were advised that a second helmet would be a good idea because not as much progress was made. So, in January, he was fitted for a new helmet which was supposed to see him through 4 months and then NO MORE HELMET. Since then, he has spent about half of his nights taking OFF HIS HELMET. At 2 a.m., I will wake up and watch Jojo playing with his helmet. At 7 a.m., when I go in, the helmet is on his leg...making great strides in making HIS HEAD ROUND? Um, no. At least he gives me a cute little devious smile, when I take the helmet off his leg.

So, now, they have recommended a third helmet. One that he supposedly won't easily be able take off. The owner of Cranial Tech is not charging us for this privilege. (As an aside, I just want to say that Cranial Tech is AMAZING. The people there are nice, supportive, accommodating to twins, AMAZING. Really good, well-run, well-meaning, business. I can't say enough good things about the place. Go Cranial Tech, Pasadena, Woot! Woot!)

But, that doesn't make me less sick of the helmet! Jojo tolerates the thing but he hates it. I can see that he hates it. I don't blame him.

So, I have tried to make a compelling argument to J that Jojo is looking much better and maybe we should just let things lie and accept his head shape. People don't have perfect heads. People don't have perfect anything. And honestly, I don't think he looks that bad. (OK, OK, I KNOW I AM HIS MOTHER and I don't see it). But, he looks fine to me. He really really looks fine. I see the flat spot but his head looks fine. His symmetry is much better. Not perfect, but better.

J argues that we should give Jojo every advantage in life (to the extent possible). He says that people judge you right away. If you have a "deformity" or a "facial flaw", it could prevent you from getting jobs, getting girlfriends, etc. He makes it sound like this decision is one that will affect his whole life. And yes, maybe it will and that is why I am sort of deferring to J on this one. But, I guess I just don't see it this way. Don't get me wrong, I understand that people are judged for how they look. I get that. It is an unfortunate thing but I get it. That is life.

But, is this small of a flaw, a few millimeters, going to prevent him from being on the bench? getting married? working summers as a lifeguard? Isn't it more likely that he'll be teased for not being circumcised or for being too tall or too short or too cute or too smart? Kids will find anything to tease you about. Adults are kinder but eventually his cranial aesthetic is going to be overpowered by what I hope will be a good inner cranial area - his brain, his common sense, his politeness, his faith, his good actions, his generosity of spirit.

I got teased mercilessly for my nose growing up. Joey Termini used to say it looked like I had a Winnebago on my face. Should my parents have rushed me off to Dr. Ray and said "fix her flaws" because she won't get a job looking like this? (Side note: Of course, the minute I could get a nose job...I did. I am still self conscious about my nose. People still make fun of it...including J.) Did my schnoz give me character? Shouldn't I be giving Joey Termini thanks? Would Jojo say, if I "won" the "forget the helmet" argument, "why didn't you fix my head, Mom?"

Jojo won't have the opportunity to do this later like I did. In a few months, his head will be hard, it won't grow as fast, it's shape will be fixed forever. But, isn't getting teased about your flaws part of growing up? Will anyone even notice this flaw? Will anyone walk up to him with a ruler and say...oh wow, your left eye is 2 mm lower than your right one? Will they notice that his glasses don't sit quite right? Will his football helmet not fit right? {{I hate football, that is ok with me.}} Sports like soccer and tennis with no helmets and long hair really are JUST fine with me.

I guess this is just one of those things we do. We don't like it but we do it because it is good for them. "They" say he won't remember this, that it doesn't hurt, that it is for his own cosmetic good. The only person bothered by this is me - seeing my kid tolerating this bugs me, seeing my kid wearing this, bugs me!

Aren't these the same arguments that doctors make when they want you to circumcise your kids: (1) they won't remember, (2) it doesn't hurt, (3) it is for their own good so they don't get teased in school? So, what did we do, the opposite of what doctor's said, we disagreed, we didn't circumcise the boys. And now, we are doing something else cosmetic for the same reasons the doctor's gave for circumcision.

I don't know. I'm just sayin'.

Jojo will keep his helmet. The decision has been made. But, as with all decisions parents make, you never know if it was the right one, the best one...

He's a cutie and I love him. We just gotta get through helmet season.

Just Being Safe Instead of Sorry

Last night I was really tired from the weekend so I thought I would crash the minute Big Love was over. But, as Big Love wore on, I started to feel really, really lousy. Sick, achy, throat hurting, lousy. So, I drank juice, swallowed down Vitamin C, took some meds, and laid down. Then, I spent the next 7 hours swallowing to see if my throat still hurt...does anyone else do this?

I am an insomniac. I have been since high school. There are many nights that I lay there going over lists in my brain. Thinking about a client, an opposing counsel, a book, the kids, the Night Stalker, etc. etc.

J thinks I am an insomniac because of the blue glow emitted by the two video monitors I have on my night stand. It's almost like Christmas with the little red lights that flash JUST BECAUSE of the static. Why can't these monitor companies figure out how to get rid of the red lights just for static? Anyhow, that is neither here nor there. There were no monitors in high school. I still couldn't sleep.

And then last night, my swallowing festivities really created extra sleep issues:
10:15 My throat hurts.
10:20 Swallow
10:21 Yep still hurts.
11:45 Swallow
11:46 Yep still hurts.
2:30 Swallow
2:31 Yep still hurts.

I need help. I think it is just because I knew I couldn't do EB if I felt crappy. So, I kept laying there hoping I would feel better.

And then, I heard a baby cry. So I looked at the first monitor - no crying. Then, I looked at the second monitor. No crying. I called J in the office - he wasn't crying. He didn't obtain a baby through the window. J was annoyed that I called asking him about babies.

So, I freaked out. Then, I started thinking about this forwarded email I got. The forward said to never open your door just because you hear a baby cry because the new scam is to get someone to open the door and then commit manslaughter. But then, I got worried that some baby was out there. And I laid in bed, waiting for more crying. Thinking about manslaughter.

It was a fun night. I didn't go to EB this morning. My throat still hurts. I am still alive. There are no babies on my doorstep. There are three in my house. All is well. And, no, I am not crying.

Good Night

My parents wanted to spend some extra time with Lulo and so I gave Lulo to my Mom this afternoon and will meet up with them this weekend at my parent's house. The nightly ritual here is that I read Lulo books and put him to bed and whoever else is here (J, Nanny Extraordinaire, my Mom, my MIL, etc.) feeds the twins their bottles and put them to bed.

The twins are almost 1.

Today was the first time (in my memory) that I put them to bed.

I was totally nervous. I had to ask Nanny Extraordinaire questions like: (1) who usually finishes first? (2) does the other one cry while the other one is finishing? (3) do you put one to bed while the other finishes? (4) what do you do if they both start crying? I got the answer I have often given to clients: "It depends." This was not a satisfying answer. But, I imagine that answer isn't satisfying for most people.

Anyhow, the experience went rather smoothly actually. Juju finished first. Jojo finished about 30 seconds later. I just kind of rubbed Juju's bloated, chubby belly while Jojo finished his bottle. Then I picked up Juju, he let out a monstrous belch. And while, I was holding Jojo to put him down, Juju started to cry. And I started to sweat. Then I put Jojo down, prayed he wouldn't cry. Comforted Juju. He stopped. Jojo started. Both stopped. And, I thanked God, rung out my t-shirt, and headed for the closest bottle of wine I could find. God bless Nanny Extraordinaire.

I am kind of sad though.

As the twins get older, I realize how little time I have spent with them as individuals. Almost no time with EACH of them. I haven't even put them to bed. That's weird, right? I think it's sad I have to ask Nanny Extraordinaire how to put my own kids to bed.

She is such a great nanny. I love her. Seriously, love her.

We don't know what we'd do without her. She works hard, she has an amazing attitude, she is good with my kids, she is trustworthy, she is loving (without being Peyton from the Hand that Rocks the Cradle), and best of all, the kids love her. She never tries to replace me or compete with me. She is great.

But, she spends more time with the twins than I do (at least during the week). I think she knows them a little better. I think she comforts them a little faster. Oh, it just saddens me.

Partly, I think it makes me sad because frankly, I couldn't be with them all day, every day. I'd go batty. I love them but it would probably be the death of me. The amount of respect that I have for SAHMs grows every weekend. How do they do it? How do they survive the whining, the day in and day out, the crying, the chaos, the mess? It is amazing. I really love the nanny. I really miss her on the weekend. I heart her. I'd invite her to be a sister wife if I was on Big Love and I had to choose between her and Nicki Grant. Wait, have I made it clear that I really like having her help???

Having said that, it partly makes me sad because I am missing stuff. The other day I asked J if he thought they knew I was their mother. Are they thinking: "Is this lady who shows up in the morning to dress us and then shows up at night for baths just a lady practicing to be a mom? An apprentice Mom. Not sure if the Trump would fire her." Do they want to fire me? It's not like I am not here but what happens is that the time I am around, Lulo (the eldest and more vocal of the three) demands Mama love. He isn't mean or jealous of them but he wants me and he wants his routine to stay the same and that makes sense to me.

I am lucky in a lot of ways. I can work from home sometimes and can see my kids mid-day or just sneak up to bury my nose in their fat rolls and tickle their feet. I work for myself so I can and do take them to doctor's appointments (so fun!) and other such things. And I can give myself some time off to hang out with them sometimes. Not everyone can do that. In a way, it is the best of both worlds.

But, yet, I sit here writing this wondering if they know that I am their Mama. Well, tonight, when I put them to bed, I reminded them...just in case they weren't sure. Good night little boys. I love you forever.

Perspective

I woke up this morning, at 4:45. Got out of bed, got dressed, came downstairs, filled up my cup of coffee, and sat to check my email before getting in the car and going to EB. A client who is SUCH a nice guy (and happens to be in the middle of a dispute with a slightly unreasonable person) sent me an e-mail telling me, among other things, that he starts chemo tomorrow.

Long sigh.

Sometimes, an e-mail like that gives you some perspective. It's not like I was all gung ho trademark guru with this dispute that he finds himself battling. However, I am his advocate. And as an advocate for a person, not "just" a client, I just want to say (and basically did say along with some solid legal advice) - trademarks in the grand scheme are not something to worry your head about while you are dealing with chemo. Trademarks, small potatoes. I think he knew that too. I hope he does. And I pray for him.

So, I go in my car. Thinking about my client. And not thinking about my knees because my knees weren't aching because my Daddy gave me Celebrex. Actually, I ached a little bit but nothing that I'd blog about. Then we did stretches, I took it easy with calisthenics, and then we ran. About a mile in my knees were just DONE. I longed for Estelle Getty, a comedic genius with impeccable timing, to drop a wheelchair on my head from heaven. But alas, there was no wheelchair. I limped back.

The good news is that I managed to chat with DI-Size0 on my spiritless jog. I like her. She is determined. She seemed serious at first and I thought maybe that was her EB Modus Operandi. But, I think she is a serious person. She was also knowledgeable and encouraged me to take tomorrow off. Actually, no, she suggested I take tomorrow off and then said, "what do you think?" And I said, "um, yeah, ok, sure." I guess she doesn't know that I too, am determined. But, I know she is right. Tendinitis needs rest. All I need are blown out knees while living in a house made of stairs.

Well, when we got back to base and we were all stretching and stuff...I said to the group, social butterfly that I am, we should have a group on Facebook for EB and we can all join and chat about how much pain we are in and how much chocolate we want to eat a la Fatso: "Did you ever suck the jelly out of a jelly doughnut and then fill it with chocolate swirl ice cream?"

Anyhow, I noticed this glimpse between DI-Size0 and the other DI. Is Facebook a no no between DIs and us measly boot campers. When is it not appropriate to have a Facebook relationship? I need to look into that.

I have never mentioned this other DI because he took Week 2 off. He is what appears to be a very nice guy. He, for example, helped me carry my bag the other day when I was falling apart. That's nice, right? Anyhow, let's call him DI-MC. MC for his initials because my throbbing knees are sapping the creative juices right out of me. MC could also stand for Mr. Crazy about DI-Size0. Huh? What?

Well, I had been noticing that DI-Size0 and DI-MC text an awful lot for 5:30 am. Who is up at that time? No one. Well, maybe some people but you'd think you wouldn't be texting the people who are productively up at 5:30. So, I get home and put their names in Facebook. (Oh, Facebook, you are like reading someone's diary except it's ok). And of course DI-MC's profile is public. AND HE IS "IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH DI-SIZE0!" Now, that, is who you text at 5:30 am.

Imagine these texts flying back and forth:
DI-Size0: Does Tina think that is a push up?
DI-MC: I hope not.
DI-Size0: Well, I hope she doesn't think that eating this way is going to help her lose weight.
DI-MC: I know, you could land a plane on her ass, right?
DI-Size0: It's early, huh?
DI-MC: Um, damn cold too.
DI-Size0: Well, we should start running soon.
DI-MC: Would you call what Tina does running?
DI-Size0: Well, no it's not running. But if we want to finish EB on time today we better get her on her way. We may still be here tonight if she doesn't start running now.
DI-MC: Good point.

Anyhow, I looked at their cute pictures on Facebook. And I was happy to see that DI-Size0 is indeed a Size 0 in normal clothes. I was also happy to see that both of them don't just run around in fatigues all day long. For some reason, after the "ew" factor went away, their "in a relationship" status made me feel like L-O-V-E was in the air. Weird. Oh, and now I even have a new friend on Facebook! Fun, fun.

Then, I looked lovingly at J and he said - "my Cousin C's wife is angry that you didn't invite them to the twins' birthday party". And, so, my loving gaze immediately became a grimace.

Wuh? Huh? Who? Which cousin? They are all named C. Why can't your people (Peruvians) choose DIFFERENT NAMES for their offspring. Anyhow, I apparently, have caused offense. Cousin C's wife wasn't here not even two months ago. Cousin C's kid was living in the same house with another cousin and their family.

And so, I sent ONE invitation to the house with various surnames on the envelope so everyone would feel included. I pretty much do the same thing every time I am crazy enough to throw a party. I DID INVITE COUSIN C's kid. BUT. Dear people. Cousin C's kid no longer lived there. Was I supposed to know this? Wuh, Huh? I need to learn Quechua or Spanish or whatever language I appear to be not proficient in because I guess I was supposed to know this somehow. These Peruvians have Inca blood. They move around too much. And I am moving to slow, and in this case, my knees having nothing to do with it. The funny thing (or funny to me) is that this C, Jr. is the sweetest kid. Well behaved. Quiet. Sweet. Eats well. This is a child I'd want influencing other children during this partay. And yet, I apparently have failed to invite him in a move that flies in the face of all etiquette.

Long Sigh. And, now, see...we are full circle. PERSPECTIVE PEOPLE. You have to be kidding me. Did I really need to have an upset J today because I supposedly didn't invite Cousin C's kid? Is there a smidgen of a possibility that maybe it wasn't intentional? Can't we just be happy we have this big, crazy, fun family with parties, and fun? Did DI-Size0 (who is so cute with DI-MC) really have to tell me the equivalent of "DON'T COME TOMORROW"? Shouldn't I know that? Hello, McFly? Sometimes you just need a little bit of a reality check, eh.

I just got an e-mail back from my client. He got my e-mail this morning. He thanked me for "putting things into perspective."

Um, no, thank you for putting things into perspective.

Old, Very Old

Today, I reached way way deep down, embraced my inner geriatric, and gimped around EB. It was really cute. Now I know EXACTLY what I am going to look like when I am 70 and trying to hold off the slow hardening of my arteries that is arteriosclerosis.

Jumping rope was a joke of enormous proportions today. If I didn't want to cry so bad and I wasn't so damn mortified, I would have laughed. It looked like this: (1) Rope slowly lops over head, (2) Rope hits floor, (3) Right leg steps over rope, (4) Left Leg steps over rope, (5) A momentary wish for death, (6) Rope slowly lops over head. The dude next to me, M, I couldn't even see his rope because he was moving so fast. In fact, he channeled Mike Tyson pre-Robin Givens. Or, maybe I couldn't see his rope because it was so dark they needed to illuminate the Mongolian BBQ parking lot we were at with lanterns. This is not a joke, lanterns. It was that dark. If I was a criminal (lawyer joke here), I would totally commit crimes in this parking lot; it is THAT sketchy.

Anyhow, in summary, I channeled Bea Arthur Post-Golden Girls and I ain't proud of it.

The ice remains on my knees. My father (the doc), my husband, and Mookie all appear to be concerned about my need to push through this despite what is very likely the demise of my knees. Oh, patella, help me show them that a little bit of perseverance (Aleve, Celebrex, and Patron) is all that is necessary to get better!

I have the determination that only comes with someone trying to manage the rolls, loose skin, and huge ass that comes with having twins and eating without stop for a year. Seriously, what was I thinking? Did I think I was still 16 and playing basketball every day? Did I think I had my mother's metabolism? No, I do not. God gives gifts. My gift (other than 3 cute boys and a loving husband) is the metabolism of a sloth instead of the metabolism of my Size 6 Mom who eats cheese like it's going out of style. The other special genetic gift that was bestowed upon me is, of course, the abs of my father's half of the family. My abs are so, so sexy that even with dedicated exercise for the rest of my life I can only hope that my mid-section will resemble that of a pregnant Heidi Klum or perhaps a pre-Jenny Craig Kirstie Alley. Why did Shelley Long leave Cheers? For gems like Troop Beverly Hills...anyhow, I digress.

Moving on, I will continue to hope that tomorrow will be an improvement on today. Tomorrow, I believe we are running a long distance (as opposed to the graceful gazelle-like sprints that I did today). Wish me luck. Wish me strength. Wish me a nice old lady who lends me her wheelchair so I can cross the finish line.

From Outside

I got there early to pick him up and watched through the one way window. The teacher was reading DUMBO. His back was to me. I could tell what he was saying just by the way his finger pointed at the pictures. He was engrossed and happy. Smiling, dancing. Interacting with other kids. The lump in my throat dissipated. My heart started to find its way back into my chest. I watched as he washed his hands, sat at the table with other kids, grab the celery from the family style lunch set up...

The teacher said that he is the only kid she's ever seen who would ONLY eat celery at lunch time.

He is good.
I am in recovery.
Hello, My Name is Tina and I am an Obsessed Mother.

Non-First Trimester Nausea

My little Lulo is at his first day of preschool today. I kissed him goodbye, he cried, he yelled MOOOOOOMMMY. And, I walked away. There he was, crying, gripping his little plastic penguin he is so obsessed with. Oh, this SUCKS.

I want to yack.

I am sitting here with the biggest lump in my throat. I think I have left over Zofran (from that fun pregnancy with the twins) but I don't think you can take it unless you are undergoing chemo or are puking so much that you are losing weight and dehydrated. Also, I think that Zofran doesn't really help with completely psychosomatic nausea.

Last year on this same day, March 10th, I was in a hospital bed with two monitors hooked up to me - one for Baby A, one for Baby B. I had been there for a little over 50 days at that point. Lulo was with my Mom. Every couple days he'd come to visit and I would have to let him go. He wouldn't cry because he was leaving with my Mom and she rocks. She is pretty much the best Gama in the world. But, I would cry every time his little stroller would go away. I'd want to yack then too.

Oh little Mama's Boy. I hope you are OK right now. I hope that you aren't crying and I hope that some little girl strikes your fancy so that this transition is easier. Well, actually, no, because I am not ready for you to have a girlfriend. Anywho. I can't work right now because I have no clarity. I will work when Lulo comes back. Because unless I know he is fine, how can I concentrate?

J seems fine by the way. Like a normal day in the office for him. How is he so sane? Is he the only living heart donor? Are all men so sane and unemotional about this? Is everything just a moment that will just pass?

On a real pleasant note, this morning my alarm went off at 4:45 am. I got up for EB like I always do and I couldn't walk. My knees ached so bad that I could not walk. I sort of shuffled. I barely got to the bathroom and when I collapsed on the Porcelain King, my knees throbbed. No way. So, I laid in bed and watched the clock, felt the throbbing knees, and let the nausea creep up as I thought about what the day ahead held in store.

There is, however, good news. I am NOT in my first trimester and puking. I am NOT pregnant and puking. I am NOT in a hospital. And today, I can get in a car, pick up my boy from his first day of school, comfort him if he needs it, and then come home and see my beautiful twins.

All can be right in the world, with my boys in my arms and without any Zofran.