A selfish post...and perhaps my most honest one yet.

Every morning I hear my precious little twins crying from their bed. It is a sound that signals many things: the start of the day, the reminder that I lucky enough to have three children, and the start of a day where I will do my best to move through incredible pain and stiffness as a result of my car accident, and be a mom in as many ways as I can.

This picture was taken on a day when I was able to push the double stroller and walk up to the park at Claire's school.

The worst part of it for me, is that there is a tinge of guilt when I hear that cry, and that just devastates me. It signals that I will shortly be required to be in pain, just to get their adorable warm sleepy bodies out of their cribs. Something that my husband and I used to fight to do because it was so precious. What a complicated feeling, bordering on grief, to have.

To say I look forward to the day when I can hop out of bed and grab my babies as soon as they need me, lift them up, carry them downstairs, change their diapers while they fight me, and do it all pain free, is a huge understatement. Then lift them into their highchairs myself, feed them, clean them and change them again then get them dressed. 

This morning Claire asked me if I would play with her while I was flat on my back on the floor, trying to stretch and lie on heat so I had some fighting chance of being mobile enough today to do the bare minimum for my children. I took a short bath to try and loosen my muscles – it was a bit of a hail mary after my stretches, heat pad, and medication and I was still in pain. After my bath I fell to my bed in tears and cried into my towel. I sobbed. 

I sobbed because I am angry that this happened to me.

I sobbed because I'm angry this is happening to me. 

I sobbed because I am stressed about what this is taking away from my husband’s life as he is working from home and my job is to run our house. 

I am devastated that I cannot meet all of my children’s needs the way I used to… and if I can do it, it’s hard to do it with a happy face on, because of the pain.   

This weekend we had fun – for the first time in ages. We went out to dinner with friends and laughed for three hours… at the end of the night my back and tailbone hurt so bad it was all I could do to crawl into bed, because I had sat still for so long. I don’t know if the mental health benefits of going out with friends outweigh the physical pain that I’ll be in during the coming days or not… I’m torn. 

I’m tired of crying frequently. I’m tired of the stress level my injury has added to our home. I’m tired of Claire having to worry about what I’m able to do for her and with her. A child should not have to think about that... she has nightmares about my body, and parts of it missing that keep me from engaging in family activities. It is affecting everyone around me. I have to ask for more help from so many people and they have been wonderful, but at the end of the day there is only so much you can ask from someone else… my family has to be able to rely on me. 

As always, I do not believe everything happens for a reason, but I always believe that there is something to be gained from traumatic experience if you look for it. I'm still trying to answer that question and I'm looking for what knowledge I'm gaining from this... all I have come up with so far is this:

I'm truly learning to "listen to my body" and attempt to slow things down and be patient and wait for help to get things done.

I'm learning about imperfection... in a big way. 

I'm learning about what is just good enough... and that is how I live. Paper plates for meals, easy dinners, and piles of clean laundry that sit in a heap for days, getting further wrinkled, but guess what... I don't get to care.  I can't get a load of clean laundry out of the dryer, because bending over and lifting is one of the most painful things for me. Matt is still working full time and he does everything in his power to help me, but I simply have to learn to wait for things to get done, not do them or be comfortable relying on others for help (a lesson my twin pregnancy and birth prepared me for… little did I know that was the just the tip of the iceberg.)

Sweet Claire guiding Sammy out of my room.

Last, but not least, my sweet little Claire is learning a lesson in compassion, and how to take care of others, right at home. I hope it ends soon, but the exposure to this concept is not a bad thing, and it is beyond heartwarming to see her take care of the twins and be my little momma.

Claire does her best to bathe the kids for me.

Please don't...

To the three tiny child inhabitants of my household: I have a few requests. As I observe you on a daily basis, here are my deepest wishes:

Claire, please never stop saying "breakfdist" when you are hungry every morning. Please don't stop loving getting all dirty and climbing hills and mountains. Please never stop being a daddy's girl, and demanding long on-the-mouth kisses at bedtime, followed by rib crushing hugs.

August, please don't learn how to say "balloon." I think "da boo-nah" will suffice forever.

Gently feeding August's baby a bottle. My brother loved all my barbies and babies... takes after Uncle, so tenderhearted.

My little man and me when he was just five months old.

Sam, please don't find out it's not macho to play with baby dolls. Keep feeding them with bottles and using August's pink vacuum as much as your little heart pleases.

Claire, don't you dare ever stop asking questions that I can't answer... like "what does it feel like to be inside of you? I only know what it feels like to be inside of me. What is it like to be another person? Can I ever know?"

My spunky baby girl, 17 months old.

Daddy with Miss August at five months. He is the most tender dad you have EVER seen in your life. He's literally perfect.

August, please don't ever stop being the life of the party, and flashing your toothy little underbite grin at us, just because you want to.


Sam, never stop wishing your little sister goodnight through the rails of your crib. Never stop saying "butt-bum" when visitors are leaving our house and you offer your goodbyes.

Claire, never stop caring for your little brother and sister with such respect and tenderness. Watching you dress and change two wiggly toddlers (voluntarily) is one of the sweetest things I see in my days at home. Especially since the twins hold completely still for you, they have this innate respect for you as their older, much worshiped sister.

Sam, never stop yelling for Claire whenever she is out of sight, when you wake up in the morning, when she is in another room, when she is sitting 10 feet away from you at her parent teacher conferences. Never stop adoring her.

Dressed as Mr. Tumnus, the faun, from "The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe."

Claire, never stop transforming yourself into a million different animals, and make believe creatures with nothing more than a roll of scotch tape and some paper and crayons.

Twinnies both finally home, healthy, safe and sound home: about 3 weeks old.

Babies, thank you for giving me the surprise of my life. Twins, thanks for coming at the same time, no matter the cost to me physically, it was worth it like I can never explain. Claire thank you for welcoming them with a quiet reverence and respect.

The day August came home from 12 extra days in the hospital, and our first family picture of five. Claire was delighted to hold both - she just giggled and giggled. This was a gorgeous moment to witness.

Our family is the happiest thing in my life. Never stop being that for me...

Pretty please with a cherry on top,
Mom

Piano is not my gift. It is a gift from others...

My whole life I have played the piano for people, wherever I have been. I've played in nursing homes, hotel lobbies, at fancy parties, on competition stages, at recitals and festivals, benefit concerts, fundraisers, at many, many funerals, schools, and Christmas parties at my house. I have accompanied 80 year old opera singers and 5 year old budding opera singers. I have accompanied my sweet daughter, my dad and my mom - though my parents require very different performances from me (ha ha... dad is a professional singer, and mom is a wonderful "lover" of music and no less enthusiastic about belting out Phantom of the Opera.) 

My most influential piano teacher, Mrs. Barnes. She changed my life forever and I learned a lesson about discipline and hard work that will benefit me for the rest of my life. I learned a lesson in respect that could never be duplicated.

People so often reply by saying "What a gift you have." I used to reply to them by saying that I wasn't sure if it was a gift or not, but I worked incredibly hard to accomplish this skill. I sacrificed my time, my body, friendships, and much of a social life to be able to have this ability, and I want people to know that.

My beloved guileless Grandma Winnie

However, there is a gift involved in my ability to play the piano, and it is a gift others gave to me. I'm not talking about God or any other higher power giving the gift to me. I am talking about my tiny, wonderful, spirited little Grandma Winnie. She paid for my piano lessons for nearly my entire career. She gave my mom my great grand-mother Agnes' piano that I trained on from age five (and it is in my living room today.)

My Grandma Winnie as a baby, and her mother, Agnes, who could play beautifully by ear and loved red wine, coffee and dark chocolate. I love it when my mom tells me I remind her of Agnes.

Agnes playing the piano when it was brand new in 1926.

But aside from those incredibly generous gifts that physically allowed me to develop and enjoy this most important part of my young life, it was the love and the time that she gave me. My favorite memories of her are Sunday dinners at my family home. She would invariably bring her little black tape recorder and plenty of blank tapes. After dinner was over, we would, without word, dutifully retire to the family room and I would play whatever pieces I was working on or preparing for public performance at the time. She would record me and sit without speaking, so patiently. There was never one critique, not really a noise. She sat up (so straight as always), with twinkling blue eyes and hair that never really turned grey, with her watch necklace around her neck. When I think of her she's wearing a purple outfit, head to toe, and red lipstick, very loosely applied in the general vicinity of her lips, but she still looked so pretty. Years and years after her death and cleaning out my childhood home, we came cross these tapes. It was the ultimate discovery for me. My childhood was on tape... my progression documented, noises in the background of my home and my life that will never be repeated (dogs barking, my sister learning to talk, my mom talking to my dad and grandpa, my little brother announcing what he was going to perform on tape.) You can also hear my voice as a child introducing all the pieces, and my labored breathing as I tried to perform better than the time before. Best of all, the tapes have her handwriting.....

What made me even happier was that we also discovered the antiquated, yet adequate, tape recorder, along with the tapes. It was so important to have it so I could actually listen to the tapes, but the memory of her toting it proudly and reverently, and the gift she gave to me by loving what I did, and making me feel so important and valued is better than any of the rest. This week I visited an Assisted Living Facility with my family to give Valentines that we made with some friends to all of the residents there. As we walked in and out of many of their private quarters, it starkly occurred to me that someday my entire life could need to be consolidated into one tiny little room. I will not be taking those tapes with me, or the recorder... but (hopefully) I'll still be able to take that memory with me... along with the memory of my mom dropping me off at piano lessons every single week, with two other children to plan for and haul around. This isn't something I can appreciate until now, as I am navigating life and my new found immobility with three children of my own. My mom would drop me off (I don't ever remember being late once,) and wait in the car for a whole hour or go walking at the mall. Another immeasurable gift given to me. 

Age 12, my dad and I performing at the wedding of his childhood friend in Iowa. It was at this wedding that I chose the song I wanted performed at my wedding when I grew up: "Here, There and Everywhere" by The Beatles.

My poor siblings and my entire family had to endure my practice at the crack of dawn, and perhaps a loss of sleep - another gift (but I don't feel too bad about that one... an early morning with live music didn't hurt anyone!) As I entered adulthood, my dad's gift to me was helping me produce what I had to offer other people and do it in a professional setting. He is a "gifted" musician in a different sense - one that has freak perfect pitch and can play things by ear.. and compose... and sing... and play multiple instruments. 

My first professional studio recording, age 10. My dad so lovingly (and patiently) recorded this for me.

He and I are extremely different musicians but we work together and have given gifts to others in times of need and performed at critical life moments: my great uncle's 90th birthday party (where my brother was my page turner and skipped a few pages on one flip --- ugh, my only really really bad public performance flub... and hilarious now), Christmas programs, weddings of dear friends, and funerals of many, including my precious precious brother.

Claire and I performing at her school. She was so brave. Hearing the sound of her tiny voice and watching her tiny body perform so seriously is absolutely priceless to me.

This past week was a busy one for me. I started on Monday by playing at my daughter's school for a group of Kindergarteners to expose them to classical music. I got to accompany my sweet Claire for a vocal performance of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" (Click or copy and paste link for video: http://youtu.be/Go_MohFtwQA</a> ) No performance on earth could make me more fulfilled. The gifts given to me have allowed me to give a gift to my child. I never in a million years thought about that when I was practicing for hours growing up.  

Age 15 performing at a hotel.

Age 10-12 at music camp with my best friend, Kerstin. I gave up most friends to accomplish what I did, but she always remained in my life and is like a sister to me today.

The week continued and I played a wonderful cocktail party for a surgeon's retirement on Friday night. The room was full of adults with doctorate degrees, members of the Utah Symphony... there were no runny noses, raised hands or loud sing-alongs like my audience on Monday. Saturday, I used the gift that was given to me to give a gift to a grieving family and play at my husband's dear cousin's funeral. He was gone so suddenly and it was a tragic loss for their family. I wanted to do anything I could to save them from that kind of grief... I know it too well, unfortunately.

The week left me reflecting so much on my ability to play and the "gift" that people say it is. I do not agree with them - I don't think I have an unusual talent, there are people a lot more talented than I, with perfect pitch, that play by ear, and can compose (like my beloved Stevie Wonder.) I was given so many gifts so that I could develop myself the best that I could. Next time someone tells me I have a gift, I will try to delicately remind myself (or them) that it is not "my gift." It is the gifts of others that should be acknowledged. Want to know a little secret? In all my years of playing, I have never won first place. Not once. And it simply does not matter.

Meeting my absolute musical inspiration - one of the true highlights of my life.

Twinnies turning into people.

The twins are 19 months now, and their personalities are becoming clearer by the day. For example, I took them to get professional haircuts, and Sam was afraid the whole time. He's terrified of finger painting, colored bath soap, and now haircuts. 

August, however, sat in the chair like she was in a salon on Rodeo Drive, and talked her cell phone the whole time while simultaneously brushing her hair... you know, to help the stylist while she cut.

Both babies continue to adore their big sister and emulate her in all kinds of ways. If you go and wake up Sam in the morning, the first word out of his mouth is "Claire." I took August grocery shopping the other day, and upon our return to the car, I buckled her into her seat, and she immediately started looking around for "Claire Bear."

Sam is gaining an awareness of the camera, and has invented a new smile.

August, on the other hand, was born ready for the camera, and has myriad faces to choose from.

Their vocabularies are growing, but Sam's remains rooted in a few very important phrases:

"All done" (for everything, including time-outs, eating and sitting still)
"lo lo lo lo lo lo lo" (don't know what that one is)
"O-Day, O-Day, O-Day" (thinking this one might be "okay" but then he'll use it in a new way and we're stumped again.

August is a complete chatterbox, and will say nearly anything you ask her to. She says all the parts of the face but they all begin with some form of  "zee." For example:

Hair = "Zee hayir"
Nose = "Ze noe"
Mouth = "Ze mowww"
Eyes =  "Zuh eye"

She is still obsessed with cats, and loves "mows" of all kinds. She has to sleep with at least one at every nap and bedtime.

August isn't the only "crazy girl" in our house. 

In Claire's opinion, August is a "crazy girl" and Sam is "trouble." That is definitely true - the twins have started ganging up in their efforts to make messes. Matt and I found them on top of the kitchen table the other day, carefully removing the keys on my computer, one by one, with their tiny, sharp little nails. I didn't even know that was a thing... real nice.

Sam is still shy and gentle, but has a temper. August is as outgoing as you can possibly get and very dramatic.  The twins have started getting time-outs, and depending which twin is incarcerated, the situation is very different. Poor Sam gets more time-outs. When Sam is on time-out, August revels in his punishment, and strokes my arm and puts her head on my shoulder.  August just got her first time-out recently, and Sam came around the corner, instantly realizing that the tables had turned, and smiled as big as the Cheshire Cat. He waddled over on his short little legs, and shook his finger at her "No, no, no, no, no!!!!" Then immediately proceeded to take her hand and say "All done," and whisk her away from imprisonment. 

Both babies love to "coy-or" and August will sit for almost an hour scribbling away. Sam will do it for a little while, but then wants to rip paper and break crayons. 

Sam is still a bit of an old man, he loves an early bedtime, and gets fussy if he doesn't get enough sleep. He's the first one awake in the entire house, too. August would stay up and party all night and likes to sleep in. She's the last one awake in the house.

I am still grateful and amazed on a daily basis at the maturity these twins bring out in Claire. She hasn't let them rock her boat, and is always happy to help me with them. She has taken to dressing them every single day (some interesting outfit choices, but whatever...) and she knows just what they need when they are upset. She's quick to comfort them...She and I are the closest we have ever been. She's my partner in crime wrangling these little people, and we share so much laughter. I am grateful every single day that I have the luxury of being home with these crazy little people.

Halloween Flash Forward

So last year, as one might guess, I went insane on costumes. I had to. It was the babies' first Halloween, and I simply couldn't pass up an opportunity to use these new cast members in a little Stout stage production. So, off we went, merrily down the black brick road, into the night, as The Wizard of Oz characters. This year, things were drastically different. Matt was called out of town for two weeks right after we closed on our new home. I was in a car accident and have an injured back which limits what I can get done in a day. We had the whole task of packing and moving out of our rental home, cleaning it, cleaning our new home, and moving into it and unpacking.... busy to the max.

Visit to the Pumpkin Patch

So this year, Halloween was more simple.... and even more precious to me. I got Claire's and Sam's costumes at second hand stores, and, keeping things simple, had August, Matt and I all wear (GASP) repeat costumes.

Our family didn't even decorate the outside of the house until October 30. That is a personal record for delayed holiday celebration. But, Claire and I did it, and we did it fast. We had so much fun tangling up in (EW GROSS) spider webs and encasing the front porch with them. She felt so much pride decorating her new house. You could tell how important it was to her that the other kids knew that our family had moved in and would celebrate Halloween with them. 

Sam was a skeleton... comical because he is anything but frail. His little glow in the dark skeleton jammies accentuated his jolly belly and puffy cheeks. He would waddle up to every single house, and the second they opened the door, he crawled right on in like he owned the place. Luckily most people thought it was adorable and went and retrieved him for us after he had gone rogue.

I'm not sure if this picture can truly capture the tiny precious trick-or-treater.

August was a witch, and wore Claire's witch costume from her first Halloween, five years ago. It fit her perfectly and it was incredibly sentimental to me to watch her wear that and remember that first holiday with my oldest baby.  She didn't like wearing the hat, but it was tied under her chin so it would fall back behind her head and sit just perfectly at the base of her neck. I purposefully walked behind her, not beside her, as much as the kids would allow, so that I could watch her tiny figure waddle, quickly, to catch up with big sister. She got one bag of candy that was incredibly precious to her (mini Kit Kats), and didn't let go the entire night. I opened the bag later to steal some, and they were a pile of melted chocolate. She would have taken them to bed like a stuffed animal, if allowed.

Claire was originally a cheetah, then a wild cat, then a scaredy cat (all consisting of the same costume: cheetah print from head to toe, ears, a tail and face makeup).  I've never done a full cheetah face before but we got it done and it looked awesome. I did it with waterproof makeup in an effort to prevent smudging or dripping caused by any impending holiday meltdowns. At the end of the night it took my cousin, Wendy, and I, a good 30-40 minutes to take the makeup off. Claire laid on the floor in her robe, so tired from running around in the night with her daddy, going to a real "party" where she saw kids from her new school, and collecting buckets of sugar. As she laid on the floor with her eyes closed, Wendy and I gently tried to get the waterproof makeup off, and Eric (Wendy's husband) suggested vasoline. He just so happened to have some in his car from his car detailing business (helpful hint: it's used on alloy rims to make them shine). He gave us the little jar and we kept working.

This was the most special moment of the holiday for me. Claire dozed in and out of sleep while we gently massaged her skin, removing her feline alter-ego, and I got a chance to stare at her as deeply, curiously and lovingly as I wanted. I watched her little profile and studied her perfect little nose and mouth (it's not often still and silent). Her beautiful eyelashes just melted my heart - my little girl, looking older. I can see the baby in her still, her chubby face, dimpled knuckles, but then I see her in a bathrobe, "removing her face after a big night out," I am abruptly thrown into the future. I picture her taking makeup off after dates, and, hopefully, talking to me about what she did that evening. 

The enhanced decolletage is courtesy of her butterfly pillow. I guess anything goes on Halloween.

After our best efforts to bet the makeup off, Claire wanted to try herself. Wendy turned her phone's camera on so Claire could see her little face in it. She took our washcloths and, with so much delicacy and precision, continued removing her makeup. She was so serious - she may has well have been a seasoned stage performer removing her mask after a performance... or my grandmother, Arline, doing her religious nightly skincare routine that lasted to the end of her life.  I will absolutely never forget this night.

Twins at 15 (...closer to 16) months.

The twins are full blown people now. They both walk all over, fight with each other, and have miniature senses of humor. Sam is developing a dramatic temper, but remains lion-hearted and serene most of the time. August is still all fire and eager about everything.

August is obsessed with all things round and chairs. She looks for bouncy balls everywhere and calls them "buh".  She also loves chairs her size, and plays king of the hill with Sam any chance she can. She loves to watch TV - Daniel Tiger is a current favorite for the babies. They have little plush chairs that Grandma Becky gave to them last Christmas, and that is where they sit to drink their bottles and watch Daniel Tiger.

15 Month Doctor Checkup

Both babies live for fruit and are watermelon and cantaloupe vacuums. Sam doesn't like meat - he is a bit of a self-proclaimed vegetarian. August will eat anything, and her current favorite treat is steak. We've created a monster, I'm afraid. She's very allergic to eggs, though, and breaks out in head to toe hives. She can have food with egg in it, just not straight scrambled or boiled eggs.

Sam's favorite thing are hair brushes. He loves to brush his hair and takes special care to tease the front. I am really not kidding. He also likes to brush other people's hair. Any chance the babies have, they are in my bathroom either stealing hair brushes, or playing in the toilet. Yes, the latter is very messy and totally gross.

It's nearly impossible to get Sam to hold still for a picture.

 

Other things the kids say....

no, no, no, no

go,  go,  go, go

answer when asked "what does the doggy say"

Hey

Yeah

Dada

Mama

Uh Oh

In addition, August says "look it," "what's this," "I'm done," "thank you" and "I did it." Sam constantly asks for Claire and Dada. If he is locked out of a room he has taken to pounding ferociously on the door with his fists, screaming for whomever he thinks is inside. Both babies also ask for naps and bed time. When they feel ready, they look at you with tired, chubby faces, and plead "Nuh-Night."

Twin fights are one of the funniest things in our house. I rarely break them up because they are too fun to watch.  They usually start over a chair or a giant exercise ball that I have.

The piano was the first thing to move into the new house.

Sam has fallen back off of the growth chart for height. He is so short there isn't a category for him, except "oompa loompa." August is a full inch taller than he is. They are adorable and so fun to play with. I am so grateful this crazy thing happened to our family.

My shortie Kindergartener showing her first ever assignment on the bulletin board. She cannot reach it but it's the very top right picture, and of course, it is a horse.

Miss Claire adores Kindergarten. She wants her teacher to be her second mom. I asked her the other day what makes her happier than anything in the world, and she said "Seeing a horse. It is my true love." Here she is at school showing her assignment with a picture of a horse (top right of bulletin board). She loves to see her cousins Wendy and Tammy, and has an amazing time at sleepovers with Tammy's kids. She was recently staying there and apparently this conversation happened. Tammy was disciplining her boys and Claire chimed in: "I'll tell you what. Listen to your mom's words. It doesn't matter, you just listen!" Apparently some of my yammering at her is sinking in.

A vacation from my brain... paradise in Red Fish Lake

We were lucky enough to take a family vacation this summer - our first as a family of five! We went with Grandma Tam, Karri and her oldest son, Alex and his adorable clan! Jen and their four precious PRECIOUS SWEET AS SUGAR kids: Samantha, Kate, Alexander and William).

I literally relaxed for consective days in a row - this may be unprecedented.  People kept asking me what was wrong - and I said "nothing, I think I might just be relaxed. I'm unfamiliar with this feeling..." It was hilarious. the reason I was truly able to let go was because there was no agenda. There was no "must see" or "must do" list that I felt a sense of urgency to accomplish. There was no daily schedule - everything was a free-for-all, in a beautiful way.

I got to watch my children play outdoors, and see how wonderful it is to be with a family that has older children who love to play with the little ones. They were all so generous with their time, taking care of the kids and making sure they were included and had fun.

Matt and I have rarely seen anything as incredible as the Sawtooth Mountains.  One day we went on a short drive and  did a mini hike just the two of us. I will never forget the smell of the lake and the sound of the woods there.

We are so grateful to have been a part of this place - it really is sacred. I can see why it is a closely guarded secret among its patrons. If we are really lucky this would be a dream vacation spot for us again someday.

Manly Alex teaching Sam & Alexander how to properly build a fire.

Sweet Kate "looming" with Claire.

The obligatory buried-in-sand shot.

I am not athletic in any way, so I rejoiced that I didn't fall off of the paddleboard.

Cold Karri, bundled up in the lake.

Sammy's sunscreen mohawk.

Daddy daughter boat ride.

August cannot be tamed - she had to walk around barefoot in the rain on the boardwalk. Sam (the other Sam) was with her the whole time, making sure she was safe.

Rainy day activities - dad was a very good sport.

Girls' spa day!

Enjoying the outdoor music.

Claire dancing with Sammy, and William jammin to the band.

Twins on a log.

My beautiful baby.

At the nature center, learning about birds. Claire is being an Osprey in this picture.

The lipstick team - minus our leader and founder, Tam. She was already in the water by now.

Beach boys and cute Kate in the background.

Claire and Alexander on our hike! He is the most gentle, kind boy.

Matty and Claire under the troll bridge.

"Aqua Gram" and Claire out at sea.

We can't ever get a family picture these days where all five faces look at the camera.

Me and two of my favorite people on the planet: Tam & Karri.

My momma.

Twins on a log, part deux.