Twinkle Foes

Lala and Loopsy have begun the long and sure process of growing up, up and away from me.

And I feel more protective of them than ever.

The second week of school, Lala comes home and tells me she hates her new school shoes (a cute, wardrobe-staple-worthy, pair of dark brown mary janes).

I asked her why and she said that she saw a girl on the playground with those really sparkly shoes with the fun shoelaces (I knew right away she meant those god-forsaken Sketchers Twinkle Toes.  I hate them.)  

Lala told the girl she liked her sparkly shoes and the girl looked at my daughter’s mary janes and said, “Yeah, well, your shoes are like, um…”  And then walked away.

?????   I mean.  ????

5 year olds.  These are 5 year olds.  

My first instinct was to tell Lala what I really think of Twinkle Toes and all that gaudy sparkly nonsense that adorns all little girl clothes these days.  Then I wanted to tell her that the little girl was just mean and petty and she should be glad to know what kind of character she is now before she gets closer and gets more hurt.  Then, well, then I just wanted to go out and buy ever style of those goddamned shoes in size 11 and a half that exist so that my kid wouldn’t feel left out.

(I didn’t do any of those things though, I just helped Lala understand that it’s okay to let someone know that they hurt her feelings and that they can move on and still play together.  Everyone has different shoes.)


Who knew that I’d still be succumbing to peer pressure at the age of 38?  All because of Kindergarten footwear.

This is exhausting already.



Pillow Talk and the Modern Marriage (well, My Modern Marriage, anyway)

Last Saturday morning, the hubs and I were relaxing in bed, putting off actually getting up to make breakfast for the twins, and chatting.  As marrieds do…

I rolled towards him and started rubbing his shoulder.

Hubs:  Why are your hands so hot?

Me: (pulling my hand away) I don’t know.

Hubs: I didn’t say you have to stop!

Me: (resuming running my hand on his shoulder)

Hubs: I got something a little lower you can rub!

Me: (rolling back towards the wall with a sigh)

Hubs: What?  (farts loudly)

Me: Nice…  that sounded like the last of the mustard bottle.  Did you get any on ya?

Hubs: (laughing)  That was my dick!

Me: (laughing)  What????  

Hubs:  Why can vaginas fart, but not dicks?

Me: I’m glad they don’t because men would be farting out their dicks ALL the time on purpose.  It would be chaos.

Hubs: I wish I could make mine whistle.

Me: (laughing harder)  Whistle?  Oh. My. God.

Hubs: (whistles tune of “If I Only Had a Brain” from The Wizard of Oz)


This is true love, Peeps.  All you singles out there with all your romantic ideas of what marriage is like, You’re Welcome.



Mommy Finished

This past weekend was significant in Scroogyland, not just because it was Mother’s Day, but also because my daughters saw me cross the finish line of my first 5K.

It brings tears to my eyes to think of it, Peeps.

Me, Scroogy- far from athletic- finished a run.  (Well, more of a walk/jog- heavy on the walk, but still…)

Lala and Loopsy waited for me, with their grandparents and their Daddy, at the finish of Saturday’s Color Run here in Baltimore.

They witnessed their Mom -television addict, usually found reading novel after novel on the couch or spending hours on the computer writing or playing Candy Crush- finish something she’d set out to do last summer.  Mommy got ready for, and ultimately finished, a 5K.

Without having a heart attack or passing out or spraining anything.

I’ll never forget how proud I felt when I saw them and heard them calling for me as I jogged under the inflatable Finish arch, covered in layers of colored dust, sweaty, and a little red in the face. 

Girls, if you read this one day, this is what I want you to remember:

Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t or that you shouldn’t.  Not even yourselves.

Don’t let people judge you for your size or your looks or your past.  Not even that voice in your head.

If you work hard, if you stick to anything, you can finish what you start.  You can do or be anything.  You can beat any odds, meet any goals you set for yourself.

I love you girls.  This 5K was for you.

The next one is for me.



6 years?

Today is the 6th anniversary of our wedding.  Aww, you guys…

At the reception, my Matron of Honor (Bestie), said that she hoped that our wedding day would be the day we looked back on in our marriage as the day we loved each other the least, that our love would grow with each day.


Look, I love Hubby today more than I loved him on April 28, 2007, for sure.  No doubt.


I mean…

Marriage is hella complex, Peeps.

Hubby and I were thrown into a bunch of HUGE life changes right away- he moved from NYC to Baltimore, so we went from Long Distance to Live-Ins, his parents followed soon after (in their own apt), we got married, got pregnant, his mom was diagnosed with cancer, we found out we were having twins, his mom got sicker and sicker, we started looking for a house, I was put on bedrest due to an “irritable uterus”, his mom passed, the twins were born, we moved into a house, I quit my job to be a stay at home mom, then his dad passed…

Seriously, we went through 10 or 15 years worth of life changes in two or three years.  It was, shall we say, taxing.

Taxing on us as individuals, and taxing on our marriage.

There were days when I considered packing my bags and moving to DE with Bestie.  Sometimes I considered bringing the twincesses too.  (bah dum dum…)

Sometimes I looked at Hubby as the enemy and/or felt that he considered me as such.

But we never gave up.  Never.

I truly believe that a marriage has its ebbs and flows.  A marriage is a relationship where you fall in and out of love with the same person for the rest of your life.  Some days are bliss, some are hell, but they are all yours.

Hubby…  My true love.  My sweet babu…

I can’t wait to spend the next 60+ years falling in love with you over and over…

The Summer Camp Conundrum

Apparently, Peeps, I have been hindering the development of my children and giving into my own social anxieties by not enrolling my five year olds in multiple activities.  Meh.

Okay, so my therapist didn’t say those exact words, but that’s how my Mommy brain translated them when she suggested it would benefit me and my kids if I signed them up for summer camps before sending them off to the big bad world of Full Day Kindergarten this fall.

So, I started the dreaded internet search for proper programs for Lala and Loopsy.  What the fudge, you guys?  The mind, it does a-wobble….

Why are day camps so expensive?  Or is $250 to $350 per week normal?  For half days?  I mean…  Ugh.  Hubby is not going to be pleased about this.  Neither are my plans for us to either join a pool or take a real week long vacation this summer. 

Anyway, besides the cost, there’s the whole decision of what kind of camp to choose.  I’m looking primarily at an Art Camp and a Gymnastics Camp.  My little twincesses are very crafty and tumbly.  So, that should be a perfect fit, right?  Gah, I dunno.  Should I be more focusing on music or sports?  Would those skills prepare them better for school?  I mean, I know it’s just a week or two and it’s just camp.  Why do I make these decision so much harder than they need to be?

Then I start to think, “Hey, Scroogy, the kids will be away for 3 whole hours for 5 straight days!  You can get so much done!”

Then I feel all Mommy guilty and the “what-ifs” break out… 

What if Lala has one of her infamous melt-downs and I’m at Planet Fitness without my phone?

What if Loopsy shows how she inherited her grace from her Mommy and falls head first off the balance beam?

What if one twin makes a ton of friends and they ignore her sister?

What if either of them get an attack of explosive diarrhea?


Me thinks my therapist is on to something here…

Abrakadoodle and Little Gym…  here come the Scroogy twins…  You have been warned.

(about me, that is…)



You’re doing good Mommy! Keep up! Keep up!

I bit the bullet and did two things in the past two weeks that I always wanted to do, but never had the balls.

One was to get a tattoo.  More on that later, Peeps.

The other was to register for a 5K.


Yes, me.  Scroogy.  ME.

I am going to run/jog/walk/crawl/roll 5 kilometers.

I will.  I swear.  Stop laughing, you guys…

I started training a couple of weeks ago with the advice of my friend Aims who is a more accomplished 5k-er. She’s started me out super slow, just walking 15 to 20 mins a few times a week.  I’ve been waking up with Hubby and walking before the twins wake up.

This morning, my bed was just too lovely to leave.  I had to stay up and watch the Oscars after all.  So, I debated going after Hubs got home this evening, or doing something radical and including my daughters in my training.

It’s a lovely winter day here in Bmore.  High 40s and sunny.  No wind.  Delightful.  So I asked dear Lala and Loopsy if they wanted to walk with me.

“To the playground, Mommy?”  Lala asked.

“Not this time.  Remember when I told you I am going to run a special race?”

“Will there be a finish line?”  Loopsy pondered.

“Yes there will!  I am walking today to get stronger and healthier so I can run to the finish line.  Will you help me?”

“Yes!  Yes!”  They bounced up and down.

I explained that I needed to walk as fast as I could without stopping.  So, we couldn’t check out any leaves or branches or dead bugs. They totally got it.  Really, they did…

Loopsy, especially, was an incredible motivator.  She jogged ahead of me, encouraging me to go faster and faster, warning me of cracks and bumps and sticks, telling me I was doing great.  Lala was wonderful too.  She mostly stayed by my side, occasionally reminding me to breathe.  haha.

The only part of the walk they faltered in their enthusiasm was the brutal up-hill portion at the very end.  Both slowed down, both wanted to stop.  But they soldiered on.

When we got back home, Lala even did my outside stretches with me and both girls did my stretches inside on the living room rug.

They even said it was fun.

Who knew?

I am so proud of them, and so glad for the opportunity to teach good fitness habits to my little ones.

I give myself a good star for the day.

Oh, and here’s my tattoo…


Eviction Day for the Twincesses

So to continue Monday’s post…

Tuesday February 12, 2008 was dulls-ville. I kept collecting my pee, getting my BP checked, talking to my fetuses, watching TV, texting Bestie… I did finally beg a nurse for some toiletries and took a shower. Haha. The nurses were insistent that I’d be going home that night or the next day, since my blood pressure was fine. We were just waiting for 8pm for the end of the 24 hr urinalysis and the lab to get the results.

8pm came and went and they told me it wouldn’t be until the morning. So… On to Wednesday, 2/13/08, Game Day, or as it came to be known, Eviction Day…

The nurses woke me up to weigh me and give me Reglan and all that jazz. They still were insisting that I’d be discharged soon. But I just knew differently.

See, Peeps, February 13 was also my Dad’s birthday. Poetic and bittersweet.

After the nurses left, I rubbed my enormous babies bump and said, “Ok, ladies, today’s the day. I’m issuing an eviction notice.” And I laughed.

My doctor came to see me and said that she wanted to do another sonogram to be certain all was well. The lab was backed up so the urinalysis was not complete. She wanted one last check before succumbing to popular medical opinion and letting me go home.

So, soon an orderly came to wheel my gigantic self down to the ultrasound room.

The ultrasound tech did his thing. I was used to it by then. I’d been having bi-weekly sonograms since 20 weeks to check for twin-to-twin-transfusion.

“Hm…” He adjusted his glasses, kept pressing that damn wand thingie on my belly. “Hm…”

“Everything ok?” I asked.

“There doesn’t seem to be a good enough pocket of fluid around twin A.”

(Side note: When we first found out there were twins in there, Loopsy was denoted Twin A and Lala Twin B because they were side by side and Loopsy was on the right. By the time birth came around, Lala had slipped lower and was to be born first- therefore becoming Twin A officially. The doctor was talking about Lala.)

I knew this wasn’t good, and became pretty concerned. What I learned is that another side effect of pre-eclampsia is that amniotic fluid is decreased. I asked what that meant, and he said it meant that the babies had to be born.

So… they took that eviction notice seriously, Peeps. Either that, or they wanted to be born on their Grandpa Doug’s birthday. Aw, tear…

I was whisked to a labor and delivery room and my OB met me there. She was telling me what was going to happen, while gathering various and sundry tools and instruments. Then she said she was going to check my cervix.

“I’m gonna go ahead and break your water.” She said. I thought she meant soon. But she meant now.

It all happened before I realized she was actually doing it. Let me tell you, that feeling is like so bizarre. Just gooooosh. Warm and wet. Ugh.

She said that she was going to observe me for a while and then see if they needed to start pitocin.

I put on the TV (The Price is Right was on) and called Mom and Hubby and Bestie. I settled in to wait.

Here is a rundown of what happened next:

Started pitocin,
Contractions began. The monitors were only picking up a little. The nurses, my OB, even Mom kept telling me that they weren’t strong. Um… Lies!!!
Got an internal contraction monitoring catheter doo-hicky because I was in a lot of pain and the contractions still appeared to be weak. BULL. I could barely stand the touch of the doc to check for dilation. The insertion of this catheter was the worst part of the whole labor and delivery. I was in such pain that Hubby had to leave the room. Mom stayed and held my hand.
Eventually I reached the magic number of dilation or whatnot and the OB asked if I was ready for my epidural. I could’ve kissed her.
Speaking of kissing medical staff… The epidural guy was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Or so I thought after the pain went away.
Pitocin was stopped and I was given oxygen because the fetuses were not liking it. I was quite worried, but soon after this, all went back to normal. Whew.
My OB gave me one more check and said she was going to go home, have dinner, tuck her kids in, and leave instructions for the nanny for the morning. She said that by the way my contractions were progressing on the monitor, it was going to be a long night. This was about 7pm.
I slept. A blissful, pain-free sleep. Ahhh…
10 pm, Doc is back and checks my contraction monitor, mumbles something about no big changes, still progressing slowly, yaddayaddayadda.
Then she checks my cervix and gets this shocked smile and shakes her head. “You were right, Scroogy… Your contractions were working. You’re ready to go!”
Say What?
I immediately start trembling. Like full on shakes. They are wheeling me to the OR and Hubby looks at Mom as if to say, “Okay, who’s going?” She says, “This is all you” (or something like that). And we were off to the races.
(Side note again: Even though both babies were head down, there was still a chance for Loopsy to turn during Lala’s delivery, so I had to deliver in the OR. In case I needed a c-section to deliver Loopsy. This also meant that my best buddy the epidural guy would be on hand just in case I needed a spinal whatsitcalled. So… there was my OB, two nurses, Hubby, a team for Lala and a team for Loopsy, and the epidural guy. Crowded house.)
Hubby gets his scrubs on and meets me in the OR. He is being amazing, even though he is terrified.
I start to push. I’m guessing it’s about 10:30 or so at this point.
Honestly, this was part was so easy. I give mad mad props to my epidural guy.
Hubby and I are laughing and joking, the nurses and my OB are cracking up. It’s going really well. My Doc says I get the gold star for pushing. Nice.
11:42 pm, Lala makes her debut!!! She is pink and wiggly and calm. I worry that she doesn’t cry, but she’s whisked off to her team and begins to cry. Hubby goes to see her and says she’s so cute that he wants to squeeze her and love her and call her George (from the old Looney Tunes cartoon). Doc says, “George? I thought her name was Lala?” haha. Silly doc.
Since the internal contraction monitor came out with Lala, there was no way for anyone but me to know when to push. So… I’ll admit that I was tired. I rested through one contraction. haha. Whatevs. Don’t judge.
It’s approaching midnight and the nurses are getting all giddy that the twins might have two birthdays. I start thinking, “Um, hells to the no. I want to get this over with!!”
Pushing didn’t hurt, but it was tiring.
11:54 pm, Loopsy is born, pink, wiggly, and screaming her lungs out as soon as her head was clear.
Both girls are healthy and taken quickly away to the NICU to be assessed. Hubby almost went with them, but then…
Doc starts to get all worried. She orders the nurses to give me some sort of injection.
Apparently my placenta has torn or something and I’m hemorrhaging.
My epidural starts to wear off, so I can now feel all the shenanigans of my OB making sure I deliver the entire placenta, owies. I can feel her stitch me up too.
Oh, then, just for fun, I start to barf again. Good times.
12:30 or 1:00 ish, I am back in my L&D room, and they bring me my little ones.
I hold my Lala and my Loopsy for the first time. True and undying love.


Scroogy is a Mommy!

Scroogy is a Mommy!

Always and forever Love

Always and forever Love

The twincesses debut begins


I’m writing this week as a little jog down memory lane for my girls to read one day.  This week they will turn 5.  Holy smokes.  5.

So we’ll start at the very beginning of our birth story:

Five years ago today, I went to my 35-week OB appointment and found that my blood pressure was elevated and my urine showed protein, so I was exhibiting signs of pre-eclampsia. 

My doctor nearly salivated at the idea of being able to induce.  It was a high risk pregnancy because I had an “irritable uterus” and since 34 weeks she’d been waiting for a reason to get the girls out.  So she cheerfully sent me home to pack and get ready to be admitted. I was in some sort of denial because I asked her why I was being admitted.  She laughed at me and said, “Um, Scroogy…  You’re having a couple of babies…”  haha.

Honestly, this part of the story is still just a blur.  I was not thinking very clearly, still in some weird la-la-land and very distracted, so distracted that I suddenly had no clue what to do next.  I called my Mom and my husband, and they left work to meet me at the apartment.  I sat on my couch and waited for them.  Just waited, twiddling my thumbs as if nothing big was going on. 

Even though I’d known this day would come sooner rather than later, I was still so ill-prepared and just glossy-eyed.  It was happening so fast, I was in a fog, detached.

Mom got there and asked if I’d packed a bag.  Um… wha???  I clearly had not.  All the baby clothes were still in big rubbermaid containers.  We were in the process of buying a house, waiting on settlement, so all of our life was in disarray and boxes.  So, while we chatted, I packed ONE set of pajamas and undergarments for me, ONE outfit for each of the babies, no toiletries, and for some reason, about a half dozen CDs.  I even forgot to pack my Reglan, which was the only thing keeping me from throwing up from week 11 on.  Morning sickness does not end in the second trimester, Peeps.  

Hubby and my Mom drove me to the hospital, where the nurses and OB on call decided to keep testing my urine (giving me a catheter- ugh), and monitoring my BP.  I hope to never have a catheter ever ever again.  Owie.  Speaking of owie…  There was a burly midwife with gigantic hands that kept checking my cervix.  I was only about 1 cm.

My blood pressure stabilized, but there was still protein in my pee, so, they decided to keep me for 24 hr urine analysis rather than jump the gun on induction.   No contractions had started.  They did a sonogram and the babies looked fine.

I was admitted, and sent Hubby and the soon-to-be-grandparents home in a snow and ice storm while I watched a lot of TV, and talked to my babies.  I talked to them a lot. 

So, here I was, in the hospital, all alone with nothing to do but think, and  It still did not occur to me to ask my husband to bring more clothes or some toothpaste.  Haha.

To be continued…



Out of the mouths of babes

I know I’m one of those obnoxious Moms that posts every totes adorbs thing their offspring says or does.  I don’t care.  I waited my whole life for these little monkeys and I intend to brag.  They are turning out pretty good.

Today we went to Pizza Hut for lunch.  As always, Lala and Loopsy started a discussion with the people in the booth behind ours.  This time, our fellow diners were incredibly inviting of the intrusion to their meal.  They were two sisters, born on the same day a year apart- Whitney and Liz.  And Whitney carried on a conversation with my babes for several minutes.  She was lovely. 

I’m a terribly shy and buttoned up person.  I don’t make friends easily or start conversations with strangers.  I kept stopping myself from telling the girls to turn around, to leave these people alone.  I kept feeling odd, and unsure, and uncomfortable.  But…  my daughters did not.

Today, on Thankful Thursday, I am grateful that my little ones didn’t inherit that gene.

They were so sweet and asked good questions and were polite and endearing.  When Whitney and Liz left, they asked if they’d come back to Pizza Hut another day because they want to be friends.  !!!!

My kids are making plans, making friends, with EASE!

I couldn’t be prouder or more grateful.  I need to take some notes.

Little Angelfaces

Holy snikeys, Peeps, I know I complain about my littles on here a lot.  Or repeat their silliness ad nauseum.  But this post is in complete gratitude of my daughters.

I have had a terrible headache for 4 straight days.  So bad that Friday and Saturday I spent mostly in bed, in the dark.  I’ve been nauseated and dizzy too.  It’s been pretty hellish in Scroogyland.  (Never fear, faithful Peeps, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.  The hubs even took off work for it.)

But my girls have been amazing.  So patient and sweet, so quiet and caring.  Quiet has been the greatest blessing as my brain pulses against my skull.  I am in awe of their understanding.

Today I had to brave the big bad world to go to the pharmacy and to the grocery store.  We were out of everything.  And my little monkeys helped in every way.  They even helped load and unload the trunk.  I mean…  Wow.

So, Thank you my Lala.  Thank you my Loopsy.

You are treasured.