Sorry I've been out of touch for so long. I started back to work in the middle of December and things have been sort of crazy since then. Everyone's fine but we're all tired and a little cranky and the holidays damn near killed us all. It was hard enough to adjust to our new routine of me going to work and Steven caring for all three kids solo during the day, but then a 4 day trip to my parents' house for Christmas really threw things off kilter. There were endless visitors and parties and missed naps and I felt like I had to be up Logan's butt 24/7 to make sure he didn't break anything or set anyone's house on fire. Or steal anyone's keys. Or eat the plastic decorative fruit. Or chug-a-lug someone's abandoned cocktail. Or climb someone's Christmas tree. Or jump on someone's glass table. Or hug-tackle any of the other children. Or manhandle all the bowls of nuts/candy/eggnog.

Christmas was stressful this year.

And then, with Christmas almost over and visions of piling everyone and everything into the minivan and taking off for New Hampshire dancing in our heads, Logan had to fall on the stairs and bust open his lip. A split lip makes a lot of blood. And an overtired and oversugared little boy who has just split his lip makes a lot of noise. But the bleeding stopped fairly quickly and something shiny or furry or bouncy caught Logan's attention and he was fine again. Of course, I nervously retraced his steps and wiped up the bloody fingerprints he left on my aunt's walls and floors. And then I think I had a glass of wine to calm myself and in that amount of time Logan managed to completely drench himself by sitting in the bathroom sink and turning on the water full force. Yes. He is such a buzzkill.

So, we changed him into dry clothes and threw all our loot and all our kids into the minivan and headed out on our long trek home. I insisted we use my phone's GPS to get us home - and I will never use that goddamn thing ever again. It took us through the heart of Boston and we did not get home until midnight. We left at eight. It should take about an hour and half . . . you do the math. Yeah. Steven was LOVING me and my crappy GPS while we were sitting at a standstill in Boston for two hours on Christmas night. Good times, good times. Logan cried and screamed. Emma cried and screamed. Molly cried and screamed. Steven peed in an old Dasani bottle. I quietly wept in the front seat.

Isn't Christmas magical?

Mmmmmm . . . Muffin Top

So, I will be returning to work in less than two weeks. I am freaking out. My husband works from home and will be taking care of all three kids by himself while I am at work. He is an excellent father, but my god. I cannot imagine taking care of all three of them by myself. If anyone can do it, he can, but I just hope he doesn't go completely mental in the process.

I am also worried about something much more trivial and selfish. Dude. What the hell am I going to wear to work? I have major stomach pooch. And twin skin. I look maybe 4 months pregnant. I can force myself into some pre-pregnancy pants but the muffin top I get is horrendous. I can wear maternity pants but who the hell wants to do that. And I'd be sort of embarrassed if anyone saw that I was still wearing maternity clothes. I thought I could get away with that after having Logan and one of my co-workers exclaimed that my pants were "too big in the butt." Granted, she's about as mature as this year's Beaujolais Nouveau, but still. Nothing really fits. I just placed an order with Old Navy for some el cheapo post-pregnancy clothes but I have no idea if I bought the right sizes or not. Probably not seeing as how their stuff seems to be made for anorexic 12 year olds.

Also, I bought a new pair of glasses! It was kind of an impulse buy. I saw this little blurb about cheap online glasses and I thought "hey, why not?" and I quick as a bunny found my OLD, OLD, OLD prescription and ordered me up a pair. Hey, I've had my current glasses since 1999. Yes. They are 8 years old. I bought this new pair from 39dollarglasses.com . . . and they were $29. How can that be? Well, I found a coupon code for $10 off. Now I ask you, who can beat that??

Factory Closed

Dad, don't read this.

Okay guys, I need your help. I just remembered that at my six week checkup after having Logan the doctor wanted me to choose a birth control option, so I'm assuming I'll have to pick one tomorrow. Damn. I've been trying to figure out what method I'd go with but I see pros and cons to them all. I came so close to just getting my tubes tied while I was having the c-section, but I read that some women have truly horrific problems after such an operation. So, there's the pill, but I'm breastfeeding and the only one I could take is the mini pill which isn't really as effective as the full blown pill. And I'm really not too thrilled with the idea of putting hormones into my body. I was on the pill for a few years and when I went off it I had severe mood swings and heart palpitations and it was not much fun. Then there are IUDs but they can puncture your uterus sometimes and I think they hurt to put in and they make your period worse. The patch and the shot are just more hormones . . . the sponge is too hard to put in and take out (remind me to tell you one day of the time Steven had to "deliver" a Today Sponge that I could not remove myself). Condoms are icky and too much trouble. Has anyone heard of this Essure thing? Seems kind of wacky.

Why won't Steven just get a vasectomy? Men!

Tick Tock Method

In my last post I mentioned researching the best way to burp a baby. Here is a video of Steven performing the Tick Tock Method on Emma.

Thing 1 and Thing 2

Steven is going to kill me for posting a video where his naked gut is resting on the counter for the majority of the time, but this is too hilarious for me not to share it with all of you. Maybe my dad was right and we should have stopped by the nearest tattoo parlor on the way home from the hospital and had the girls' names permanently etched on their bums.

* Special thanks to Steven for blocking me from the camera. While his belly was propped up on the counter, mine was gently sweeping the floor. I might be down 40 pounds since giving birth, but my saggy stomach skin is like warm salt water taffy. Mmmmmm.

Pie. It's What's For Dinner.

Steven and I just had pumpkin pie for dinner. It was a mutual decision based upon the fact that we are so very tired. Not just tired . . . zombie tired. And we have officially depleted the stockpile of food we acquired before the twins were born. So it was either pie or we'd have to crack open the dusty can of kidney beans that's been sitting in the back of the cupboard since early 2005.

Department of Social Services, if you're reading this, no we did not feed pie to Logan for dinner. He dined upon last night's (the night before we ran out of food) leftovers. And what might that gourmet delicacy have been? A lovely concoction consisting of ground beef, various condiments and spices, and frozen vegetables. If you ran out of dog food and you couldn't get to the store, this is what you'd make for your dog to eat. Okay, maybe not quite. I mean, it was lean ground beef after all and that's the expensive stuff!

So, we fed Logan his dog chow, put him to bed, and had yummy pumpkin pie for dinner. Oh, the joy of being an adult. But Steven put pumpkin ice cream on top of his pie. This bothers me more than it should - let's blame it on sleep deprivation and vicodin. Putting pumpkin ice cream on your pumpkin pie is just wrong. It's too much pumpkin. Too much orange. It's like that one woman at work who has to match head to toe from her lime green earrings to her lime green ballerina flats. It's like this:

Introducing . . .

Molly Susan, 5 lbs. 15 oz., 18 1/4 in. at 9:53 AM
and
Emma Barbara, 6 lbs. 2 oz., 18 1/2 in. at 9:54 AM