Dinner With Three Children

February 4, 2014 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By Brandy Black

Brandy Black and Susan Howard

I have two-year-old twins and a 6-year-old daughter. This might be my favorite combined age of all three.  They play together (sometimes), they laugh and most importantly they help each other. We, for the first time in two years, sit back and watch until one of them chucks a car at the other’s head. Tonight my wife was working and I made dinner for all three and watched as they danced around the kitchen singing “I want to build a snowman” from our new family favorite soundtrack. Sophia showed Bella how to dance like Elsa so that they could play “Frozen” together.  Penn hummed to the music while pushing cars back and forth beneath my legs. When their plates hit the table they all marched over, Bella climbed into her highchair because she no longer requires, or should I say allows our help. Penn stood dangling with one arm waiting to be perched up and Sophia plopped in her chair with her doll Lile beside her. They all use forks, they all chat, at the same time. Our kitchen is loud. I never imagined having a house full of children and a constant buzz of incessant noise. My back turned, adjusting the volume on the speakers, it hit me, all at once, I heard my children.  I have children, that fill this house and make it a home.  Three very distinct personalities. Bella, assured, bossy, a tomboy–prefers Penn’s clothes, a foodie, independent, distant to strangers giving them the F eye when they look at her. Penn, quiet, happy, always preferring cars, trucks, balls and anything that makes sound, he gives hugs and kisses, and has learned everyone’s name in the house but his own.  He adores his sisters above all.  Sophia, girly, sassy, full of attitude, thoughtful in ways that I have never been–making things for everyone in the house daily, a kind, gentle, hard-ass sister that doesn’t put up with anything.  She rules with an iron fist and a heart of gold.

When dinner was finished Bella got out of her high chair and pulled up  a big kid chair to sit between her brother and sister.  I gathered their berries and granola for dessert when I heard a loud scream from Penn.  I turned to find him holding onto his twin sister who was dangling sideways from the chair.  She had a tight grip on his pinkie finger and that hold was the only thing keeping her from hitting the ground.  Penn has always been her protector, her hero!  The three of them take care of one another in their own unique ways and I’m merely the lucky Mama that gets to sit back and watch their bond grow each day.

 

 

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Why Can’t Life Be Like Instagram?

January 14, 2014 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By Brandy Black

snowy

I love looking through pictures on instagram, mini postcards of perfect beautiful lives.  The food, the sunsets, the snowman, the skiers, all of the adventurous  things people are doing. I like vacations because I too can participate in sharing my picture perfect life, but this year, my instagram went silent. I got slammed with the reality that three kids will bring. It all started with a toothache that led my wife and me to pacing in the waiting room after our daughter had been sedated for a root canal, one day before a vacation to Mammoth. After surviving that and having a lovely vacation we closed out our final day by momentarily losing our son in Mammoth Village and proceeded to a long drive home filled with contentious quips that built into a big fight on Christmas Eve. I reminded myself that I am strong and we can weather the storm until a day before our vacation in Laguna Beach with the family three days later, our daughter got a very painful ear infection that culminated in screaming at 12AM and a rush to the doctor in the early morning. Medication in hand we made it to the hotel and gathered with the family only for me to break out in a fever and an extremely painful Strep throat that kept me in bed the rest of the trip.  On New Year’s Eve, shortly after we arrived home, I woke up at 8AM puking from the pain and drove myself to the doctor, dizzy and exhausted, with no appointment and no voice to ask for one.  I walked to the window of my Century City doctor and begged in a whisper for someone to see me, after being turned down 3 times because apparently doctors don’t work on New Year’s Eve, a lovely woman, we’ll call her my angel took me to another office in the building and told them they must see me.   I missed the half marathon that I had recently done a 10 mile training run for, that I had been training for over the last couple months because I was on antibiotics and dehydrated.  This is how I began my 2014.  Defeated, tired, still recovering from multiple family catastrophes, a stolen purse incident that happened in the midst of all of this as well as an au pair that no longer feels up to the task of taking care of our children.

Dare I write new year’s resolutions? What’s the point?  I have no control, I am ready, fists up, prepared for the fight, peaking around the corners, waiting to be knocked down. I have come to terms with the reality that life is not perfect and I can only assume that what I’m being given I can handle and on some days I’m pretty horrible at handling it. And on others I think I was made for this shit!

 

 

 

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Life Just Became Overwhelming

July 29, 2013 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By: Brandy Black

black.howard225
I have been sucked under for the last two months and have yet to even take the time to document the madness in my life. Having a family of five means that everything hangs in a delicate balance and when one tiny thing goes amiss, it feels as if walls begin to crumble. And if you know me, I don’t like it when the handcrafted balance that I have worked so diligently to create for my family, gets disturbed. So you can only imagine my dismay when our au pair decided to go back to Germany with no notice. I had to take the advice I often give my five-year-old and take a few deep breaths, I had to make a plan quickly and put up a front to my wife and kids that I was not utterly destroyed and terrified on the inside. I do this often, pretend I’m stronger than I am, I think I sometimes convince myself of my superhero powers but ultimately, I will admit I’m tiny and constantly on the brink of a meltdown. I’m also awful at asking for help, I bare my pains quietly and fear that I will burden others but this was a time of desperation. I emailed everyone I knew asking for help, within 2 hours of learning of our au pairs departure, I had 3 back-up sitters scheduled until our new au pair arrives. I realized in that moment how truly lucky we are to have all of the incredible people in our lives that support us. I was reminded how much people like to help when needed. And “it takes a village” kept running through my head.

The house has been crazy, the babies adjusting to multiple people coming in and out, juggling schedules with my wife, our preschooler graduating to elementary school, summertime, vacations, it’s mayhem and I guess I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m beginning to see that my life will always be a puzzle and the pieces will forever be scrambled and I don’t have to know all the answers right away and that perhaps embracing chaos is a part of life’s little challenge to me.
I wonder if there will ever be a day that I worry less, that I sleep more, that I bring my shoulders down and fully trust.

I doubt it.

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Every child has the right to the protection, stability and respect that only marriage provides

June 12, 2013 by  
Filed under Same Sex Parent

By Jason Howe

kids jumping

An exploratory brush at the tip of my nose.  Half-asleep, I’m barely aware and don’t respond.
Once again, more insistent, it makes its way into the opening of my nostril.  Still no response.
Then it comes:  not just an I’m-stopped-at-a-signal-and-I-don’t- think- anyone-is-looking scrape of the septum; not just a I’m-driving-on the-101-and-no-one-is-near-up-to-the-cuticle foray into the nostril; this is a complete violation of my sense of self, up past the point where cartilage meets bone, past where fingers are naturally meant to reach.  At least adult fingers.
“Olivia, STOP!” I mumble,  and gently extricate the diminutive digits before they reach my sinuses.  I open my eyes.  The soft, grey light of a June morning is filtering through the shutters and two enormous black eyes are staring at me expectantly, ready to experiment again with the next round of “what does Daddy do if I poke here, pinch there, prod this?”  
Olivia has been awake since 6:30, sitting upright near my head.  Over the past week or so, she and her fraternal twin Clara have been waking early, either fussing until we acknowledge them or babbling to themselves in ever-increasing chorus of “bababa.   BehhhhhDAH.  Ba-DAH!  Ba-DAAAAH!  BLA BLA BLA DAH!”  Partially because we love cuddling with them, but mainly because it to work like a snooze button on that toddler alarm clock, we’ve been responding by bringing them into bed with us. Sometimes they sleep –  and lo! for my husband, Adrián, henceforth “the Spaniard,” it worked – he and Clara are sleeping blissfully beside me.  But I chose chubby Olivia when we pulled them from their cribs, thinking she’d be more likely to sleep than her more athletic sister.  I chose wrong.
Two toddlers anxious to hop in their parents’ toasty bed.  Two parents trying desperately not to start the day any earlier than necessary.  It’s a struggle repeated millions of times every day across the country. Except that the two parents in question are both men in their late forties; the babies born via an egg donor and surrogate mother literally on the other side of the planet.  Oh yeah, and my 81-year-old mother is asleep on the living room sofa just outside our bedroom door, forced from her own bedroom by an addition project that should have been finished before the girls were born last year (the original game plan had her staying with her sister in Palm Springs, so don’t start…). 
And we’re not alone.  A good half of our male couple friends are in various stages of having children of their own.  When did public perception of same-sex couples take such a hard left down Main Street?  Many who follow these things point to the late 90s and credit shows like “Will and Grace” for showing folks in Terra Haute and Amarillo that not all gay men do drag or keep cans of Crisco in our bedside tables (not that there’s anything wrong with that!), and that most of us are, well, dull.  As proof we have “The New Normal,” a show so insipid, silly and such old news that the only people who noticed its cancellation was the utterly ineffective hate group “One Million Moms,” which claimed credit for the show’s demise, rather than the fact that it, you know, sucked. 
But at least people, not the least among them likely Prop 8 case swing vote  U.S. Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy, now realize that same-sex couples have families of their own.  At oral arguments in March, Kennedy commented “There’s some 40,000 children in California… that live with same-sex parents, and they want their parents to have full recognition and full status. The voice of those children is important in this case, don’t you think?”
Well, no disrespect to Justice Kennedy, since we know it was a rhetorical question, but DUH.  Proposition 8 and its even viler cousin, the federal Defense of Marriage Act, are now being punched more full of holes than the Starks in last week’s “Game of Thrones.” Clara and Olivia deserve the same protection under the law and respect from society as any couple’s children.  I’m pleased Kennedy seems to agree.
Once we had our girls safely home, I remarked to the Spaniard “that was easy.”  Of course, it was anything but:  saving for the expense of surrogacy while living in my mom’s extra bedroom for two years, our own furniture, books and music packed in a storage space; two trips halfway around the globe to a clinic in New Delhi; twin girls born seven weeks early who spent the first three weeks of their lives in a neonatal intensive care unit; as well as the aforementioned construction project that only now is underway.  But after a lifetime of thinking I’d never be a father, it was easyonly two years to bring two people into the world where there were none before.   All I really needed was to believe it was possible.
California law protects and even encourages the right of same-sex couples to become parents, and like any child, our daughters would not exist if those parents had not brought them into the world.  Now the law needs to similarly recognize that every child, regardless of the composition of his or her family, has the right to the protection, stability and respect that only marriage provides.
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My Sweet Bella Bell

June 10, 2013 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By Brandy Black

photo

I realized as soon as I had three kids that balancing attention is a tough job.  I worried that they would all blend together in my mind and I wouldn’t notice the little things that I always had with my first born.  In some ways that feels true, I haven’t written down the first sneeze or the first smile or the first laugh or the twins discovering their toes.  But what I hadn’t prepared myself for, having been an only child, was the very distinct personality differences they would all have at such a young age.  Bella, 17 months old, is obsessed with shoes.  We may have our very own Carrie Bradshaw in the house.   She picks out different ones every day. She not only picks them out for herself but for of the rest of us too.  Her concern is constantly about shoes.  Why aren’t we all wearing shoes all the time?  She insists on wearing them with her pajamas. She waddles around with a confidence like she runs this place.  She has also recently taken a liking to a particular floral (floral is in you know) cover-up for her dresses.  Yesterday in the hot heat she would not let me take it off.  When it’s wet from washing her hands she screams if I try to remove it.  This morning, she dug it out of the laundry basket and held it up to me.  I told her it needed to be washed and she began screaming.  When I put this wrap on her, she smiles and pets it and then waddles off to something else.

There is no blending in for this little girl, she has her own ideas and everyone will listen to them.  She has begun what friends of ours have coined “the Bella drop” in which she drops to the ground back rounded and head to the down, screaming when something goes wrong.  I remember learning a version of this for Drill Team in high school and it’s quite hard to drop yourself from standing like that.  We think she may be a cheerleader. She’s got the moves already.

She is a foodie.  She loves any kind of food and fully expects to be fed when anyone near her is eating.  She is that kid that will follow other kids to their treats assuming their parents brought enough for everyone.

She sits on my feet every morning while I blow dry my hair.  Her brother wanders around picking up toys, babbling but Bella plops down on my feet, stares up at me and waits patiently for me to be done. She is a little lover, she will walk right up to you and sit right down on your lap.  She loves to be held and could ride around on my hip forever.

Bella Bell, you are our sweet baby girl.

 

 

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Leashes are for Dogs

June 3, 2013 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By Brandy Black

photo

I judge.  I don’t mean to, I don’t want to, I swear I won’t but I judge.  When I see a mom walking down the street with their child attached to a leash, I judge.  But if I have learned one thing from parenting, it is that the minute I started feeling high and mighty, I fall, it’s inevitable.  I broke down and bought back packs with leashes attached for our twins.  My wife fought me all the way through the purchase but the fact is, safety is my priority.  I had no idea how hard it would be to keep track of two 17-month-old toddlers in a public place.  We were at The Grove this weekend and I could not take my eyes off our son, he would zip around so fast and of course his twin sister running the opposite direction.  Having three kids makes it next to impossible to ensure that they stay by your side.  So, I did it. I sometimes get brave and decide to take all three to the park alone and a few minutes in I wonder how I’m going to get the hell out of there.  I begin to notice all of the unsafe playground equipment and the potential for falls. When I asked Susan about how she handles it she said “you just have to infer that they are going to be safe or that if they fall it won’t be that bad.” And that is where we differ. I can’t handle the notion of my kids being unsafe on my watch.  I worry all the time.  I’ve always been a worrier, I convince myself that worrying will make me more vigilant so I can’t seem to let it go.  My wife doesn’t worry much from what I can tell.  I’m envious that she can live in that state.  What must that be like?  No wonder she falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow.

So the leashes hang on their cute little hooks by the front door, waiting to keep our children safe one day soon.

 

 

 

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Stuck in Paradise

March 18, 2013 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By Brandy Black

 

Vacationing with kids

I should have known what direction my 40th birthday trip was going when I woke up the morning of our flight with a terrible cold.  If I knew then…

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Our first day in Hawaii was spent at the pool with all the kids.  I hadn’t quite thought through how challenging, even with three adults, it would be to manage twins and a five-year-old.  Just getting out of the room was exhausting, the sunblock, floaties, diapers, wipes, bottles, snacks, the list was endless.  Then I had the bright idea of purchasing an oversized (literally as big as I am) turtle for Sophia to float around on.  I wasn’t thinking, didn’t consider that we would be toting that damn thing around for the entire week. I just saw the smile on my daughter’s face when I agreed to her plea.  Once all kids were finally in the pool and on our floats, we quickly realized the water was freezing cold. I know it’s always warm in Hawaii but on the occasional 70 degree day it sure would be nice if the pools were heated!  Our water is warmer in California and frankly the weather too!  My oldest said “I thought it was supposed to be like summer in Hawaii?!”

“Me too baby.”

After about an hour of freezing our asses off in the pool just to say we did, we decided to have lunch and that is when it all began.  Sophia complained of a tummy ache.  At first it was minor but it continued to escalate and by the end of the day she just wanted to be in the room.  We scrambled to think of what might have caused this and came up with the natural solution- constipation.  She has struggled with this in the past because of her deathly fear of pooping (that’s a whole other blog) but all was typically resolved with a little MiraLAX.  And shit!  I didn’t bring it!  I brought the entire house in our three suitcases but didn’t think to bring the MiraLAX!  So off Susan went on a 40-minute walk to the nearest grocery store while I juggled three kids with the nanny.  When Susan returned she happily held up a box of ExLax!  “Why did you get that?” I say, with an instinct that five is a little young for Exlax.  It turns out that’s all the market had and there were no other stores anywhere near us.  I asked to see the box, convinced it wasn’t safe and Susan read aloud  “Yep, it’s fine, it says half a pill for five.”

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Reluctantly I agreed.  Suddenly a few hours later the pain was worse.  Our daughter was officially not enjoying the vacation. We eagerly awaited a poop to make it all better.  The next day, no poop and still serious belly pain.  By the afternoon we had to call the resident doctor onsite and she advised us to race to the hospital for fear that it was appendicitis.  Now I was in a panic. Not only had we discovered at this point that Susan read the box wrong and Exlax is not for young kids but it can also make appendicitis burst!  We left the twins with the nanny and called a cab to the hospital which was 40 minutes away. Sophia at this point was screaming “take this pain away, please why aren’t you fixing this?” and I  in a full-blown panic. On the way to the hospital Sophia finally fell asleep spread out across my lap. What a relief -until I realized that I was wet, she was wet, the cab was wet and it really smelled!  Yep, she shit all over everything and get this: I didn’t bring back up clothes.

We finally pulled up to a small driveway and I was convinced we weren’t in the right place.  It looked like a Veterinary Hospital.  We finagled our daughter out of the cab and walked into a dingy little waiting room full of a family of Hawaiian people sitting around talking.  We signed in and then had to wake our finally peaceful daughter.  She began yelling “What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?  My belly.  My belly.”  I insisted the doctor give her something for the pain but logically they wouldn’t, they needed to see what the problem was first.  They wanted Sophia to pee in a cup but she refused to drink water because she knew the pain it would inflict.  After much yelling and getting transferred into a private room because we were bothering the other patients, Sophia finally fell asleep again.  I began calculating the hours that we were going to sit by her side watching her sleep with no real answers since she was certainly not going to wake up and pee in a fucking cup. After convincing the doctor that she had to come up with another plan she decided to do x-rays.  Sure enough we identified the problem, Sophia was 100% constipated.  The nurse came in a few minutes later with an enema and handed it to me.

“Do you want to do it?”

“What? No, I don’t know how to do it!”

We agreed that she should do it while Sophia slept and I would be standing by on the gurney in case she woke up.  I was above Sophia and with no warning from the nurse, shit came spraying out of my daughter, all over me!  “Well that happened fast” the nurse says with a friendly tone.

We got back to the room at 3AM and hoped to wake to a better day.

Suffice to say, the days didn’t get better.  Sophia still struggled through pain, our twin daughter threw up on me, I think because the food in Hawaii was a bit different for her.  The wind was howling, making our beach trip a disaster that culminated in our double stroller toppling over and hitting a woman in the face.  We were dying to go home early from our never-ending trip but the doctors actually advised staying because travel only makes constipation worse.

The final leg of the trip, a red-eye flight which had been recommended by veteran friends with twins, was a nightmare.  The kids didn’t sleep well, Sophia shit all over herself in her sleep on the plane and I swear the flight attendants sent in a Hazmat team to clean up after us. Oh and after arriving back at our house at 7am, I had scheduled a work meeting at noon that same day.  I think I’m still recovering.

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Mother of Twins: Crouched Down By the Closet

January 11, 2013 by  
Filed under Same Sex Parent

By Susan Howard

Crouched down by the bedroom closet I am hiding from my one-year-old twins.   I hear them crawling and screaming; they are inside the house, coming closer and closer.  My dog betrays my trust by bounding beside me loudly and noisily wagging his tail, basically giving me away.  Both children have ear infections and both are certain to let me know how miserable they are by yelling, rubbing their snotty faces into my shirt, and needing to be held incessantly.

All I want to do is change clothes.  The fantasy of a glass of water is a distant dream.  I have to pick up their sister from school and I refused to go in slopped on sweatpants.  It’s after 2 and I have not had lunch.  After suffering multiple stomach issues I made it a goal not to eat meals during stressful situations.   At this rate I am on the Gandhi diet.

Let’s face it.  I am not good with babies.  I don’t get them.  They don’t get me.  We agree to disagree.  For the next three days we have no Au Pair, so I am trying to pitch in and take on the front lines.  I had no idea how relentless the enemy was.  The enemy is abound.

They come in one behind the next, invading on all fours like a pack of mini wolves.  “I need to get changed.  You gotta give me a second,” I plead.  But my voice is drowned out by their wails. These guys are professionals.

I do have a new shirt and jeans on so perhaps I have triumphed, good over evil.  In a moment, a slobbery sweet potato snot face is embedded in my new shirt and I smile, really I cry.

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Surviving One Year With Twins

December 3, 2012 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By: Brandy Black

I found out a good friend of mine is pregnant with twins and it got me thinking about how I was feeling this time last year when I was just two weeks away from delivering my boy/girl twins.  I was terrified.  I think I was sick to my stomach most days, not only having to do with my pregnancy because yes, I hate to tell you, it continues into the third trimester, but because I truly had no idea what I was in for.  All I knew was that on every level, my life was no longer my own.  We suddenly had full time help coming to live in our home, my sane, balanced life was about to be disrupted by sleepless nights, crazy hormones, fights with my wife, tidying that never stops, and endless laundry. I had no idea that tiny little hearts beating on my chest would make it all worth while.  I remember turning to Susan and saying “Why didn’t you remind me that I love our children?”  I had forgotten when I was pregnant that the bond is so strong and for me so immediate that everything else falls away.  Yes this year has been chaos.  I have had more failure moments as a mother this year than any before it, but now as my twins approach one, our family is full of life.
Our son hugs -actually holds tight, squeezes like a tiny little monkey.  His laughs make me cry.  His smile is infectious and he bangs on things, loves making noise.  He holds any given toy up in the air and yells with the power of a mighty lion.  Our little man is tiny, below the charts, yet he is a masterful eater.  He out-eats all of us and will eat anything.  He is completely independent until he topples over.  I can’t help but think about how lucky his sisters will be to have him as their brother.
Our twin daughter is a lover of her Mama, she follows me around like a champ, tracks me in a room and makes sure she’s in my arms at all times.  She loves music and dances from a seating position by moving her hips back and forth, waving her little arms around.  She is genuinely happy until she’s not and then everyone in the neighborhood knows.  She makes herself heard!  She flips the light on every day for me with a huge proud smile.  She continued my morning  tradition when I forgot by grabbing her brother on his belly and saying “Tika Tika Tika.”  He laughed and suddenly I realized she was doing what I do to them both daily–she was tickling.
 
They team up together– jump in the dishwasher when we’re not looking and pull everything out of the bathroom cabinet each morning as I shower.  They laugh together, with each other and at each other.  They are inseparable.
And our oldest, she prevails in the most valiant way.  She has made it through this year!  Through the tears, sometimes feeling like it will never stop.  Today when the entire family went Christmas tree shopping and our son had had enough and began crying on the way home, she said very calmly “Why is he still doing that? He slept, he ate, he doesn’t need a dipes change, what is wrong with him?” She is patient and loving.  I asked her to watch over the twins while we carried in our new couch. This was the first time I left the three of them in a room together alone for at least 15 minutes.  I had given the twins bottles.  When I walked in, the bottles were tossed aside and all three kids were gathered around the ipad dancing to music.  They looked up at me with bright smiling faces and our future flashed before me.  The future laughs and card games, holidays, fights, late night talks, dances, so many firsts.  How could I have ever been afraid of this?
 
So, for you, going to into twindom, you have nothing to fear.  Yes you will be tired.  Yes you will likely hate your significant other on certain days, yes it is hard, sometimes feels impossible, but at the end of my first year, it is all that I could ask for.
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Mother of Three on a Really Bad Day

August 6, 2012 by  
Filed under Brandy Black, Same Sex Parent

By: Brandy Black


The twins are almost 8 months and suddenly life has changed.  I wrote a blog a month ago about how having three isn’t as difficult as I had suspected.  In honoring the promise I made to myself when I began writing intimately about my life, I vowed that I would always be as honest as I could; I must admit the recent discovery of a new truth.  It’s hard, it’s gotten really hard.  This weekend has been the most challenging yet.  The twins are both moving quickly, not quite crawling but scooching around, inevitably one goes one way the other the opposite.  My 4-year-old is so over watching out for the twins, as she’s been doing it for months now that she can no longer be held responsible.  The babies are eating which I thought would be the highlight of our meals but in fact is exhausting.  When I feed the twins, I don’t eat and my daughter makes a request for milk, butter, whatever, every couple minutes so by the time it’s all over I’m still hungry and ready to go to sleep.  The stress level is so high over here that Susan and I have begun fighting about measurement of formula and the state of our blender.  It’s insane.  I woke this morning ready to go to the Dodgers/Cubs game, I’ve been craving baseball all summer, but when I played the three-hour excursion out in my head, it was depressing.  I’m tired of our double stroller that I can’t turn worth shit when I go into my new favorite little breakfast place.  I can’t stand the “you’ve certainly got your hands full” comment and am afraid I might actually hit someone next time they say anything to me.  I don’t want your help!  Yet, I totally want your help!  I feel insane and my usually sane wife has lost her cool too.
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I did yoga today (thank you Susan for making me go), but the entire time I was focused on whether S. was having fun in the “playroom” by herself since there were no kids there when I checked her in.  I didn’t go in the much-needed jacuzzi because she seemed lonely in that little room on her own.  My escape is blaring “Call me maybe” in my car and feeling like I’m 20 again. That lasts a couple minutes and then my mind wanders off to how we are going to afford three kids.  I’m so intimidated by the notion of it all that I sometimes can’t breathe.
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We got invited to a BBQ this weekend and had every intention of going but when Susan had one set of plans and I another, I couldn’t stomach bringing three kids to an afternoon party.  “Hi everybody, hope you don’t mind the three-ring-circus I’ve brought along with me, do you wanna hold a kid while I kick back a shot of tequila?”
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This is my state, it’s not pretty.  When I asked parents of three what to expect, I wanted the dirty, gritty details.  I have a demented way of playing out the worst so that when it actually happens it’s not so bad but they kept telling me I’d get through it and some days would be harder than others.  Well here I am, here to tell you that I’ve hit my wall. I’m at the 20 mile mark counting to the finish line, the only problem is, where the fuck is the finish line?  I remember literally saying that to Susan through blurry eyes when we ran the marathon, it felt endless running in slow motion, feet feeling pulled down by tar, eyes glazed and mind so numb I could only listen to her words talking me through each step.  Well ladies and gentlemen, I’ve hit my wall and so I put my head down and pray that we all make it through intact.
 
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