NaNoWriMo

I am doing my best to be a real participant in the National Novel Writing Month Challenge thing going on right now. The novel I am working on, and have been working on, is all about the mad cap adventures of a thirty-something mother of twins, who lives in the suburbs, has two cats, likes to surf the Internet and post on blogs. (HEY - you are supposed to write what you know!) I have so many stories and observations and misadventures now that I am a mother, and a mother of Twins at that. I also have more projects going on now than I ever did before. I used to be content just doing a lot of Martha Stewart-y things - like baking all my breads and cookies myself; doing arty things - like lining baskets with flannel as gifts (then filling them with homemade cookies); athletic things - like running 20 to 30 miles a week and going to the gym at 5:30 am before work, and going snowboarding on the weekends in the winter (read October to April - my dear husband is a ski resort volunteer) and keeping the cerebellum in tune by daily crossword puzzles and the Celebrity Cipher and the Jumble. I have always done a lot of reading.

Now that we don't take the paper anymore (it costs too much money and takes up too much space), I don't get my puzzle fix. Now that the DH no longer volunteers at the resort, we don't get free ski passes anymore. (I don’t think we are going to be forking over $1,200 EACH for season passes anytime soon!) And now that I am no longer working in Dilbert World/Cubicle Hell, I no longer belong to a gym. Boo hoo. I do miss that. But, I like/need to keep working on projects, myself and to learn new things, so I am still running, still cooking and, in spite of my six full time jobs (a "full time" job is an 8 hour day, right? So a Mama, on call and on duty 24 hours a day, has three full time jobs, ya with me? Therefore, a mother of twins, or a mother of two, has SIX full time jobs, because each child requires 100% of a Mama's attention, correct?) I am teaching myself how to knit, got the blog going and I want to get the novel really well on its way as well.

My novel’s main character is a woman by the name of Harriet. Why Harriet? I really could not say, except it seemed not to be the name of anyone I knew. Apparently, people get mad when I write about them, go figure, so Harriet is part me and part no body I have ever met and part every body I have ever known. That way no one can accuse me of stealing their identity and exposing their life, in novel form, to the universe.

I know I have the blog as a forum in which to tell my stories, explain my actions, amuse my fans and air my grievances, but there are things that happen to me and things that I experience that are not suitable fodder for the blog mill. For example, somebody told something to someone who told someone else, who told me and I got mad. But the people in this little tale are not to be named, because it’s not cool to blog nasty things about someone. Naturally, it would be much better to write a book about it instead. Yep - good thinking, dear MOT. However, what I have so far is so very novelized that I really don’t think anyone would recognize themselves, even my sister, of whom I make mention freely in the blog, in my book and in general. No, most of the characters, not only Harriet, are unholy blends of many different folks. Folks I have loved, detested and felt indifferent about as well. I am either going to call my book Names Changed to protect the Guilty, or, as a friend suggested, Names Changed to protect the Author. Or I am thinking of 48 hours a day – Life with new twins. What do y’all think?

OK I can post a link now

It took advice from a commenter and my DH's help, but here's my first in text link for your enjoyment. Can you say Hey Ya... There is a glitch in the actual feed from the site, but it's funny anyway. Note: If you're at work, lower your volume a touch before pointing the mouse and clicking here

A knock on the head will get you out of a blue funk for sure…

Especially if the knock on the head happened to your fourteen month old. I've been feeling very low and depressed lately, but today I feel as if there are more crucial things in life than my grumpy moods. Last night, Twin A, the smaller, feistier, and more agile baby was climbing out of the laundry basket, when he fell and hit his head on the kitchen lino. I was sitting at the table; my DH was sitting on the floor with them. I heard the clunk of a little skull on the floor, but didn’t hear the normal scream. Then my DH said, “Honey, I think he’s really hurt.” I put my sewing to the side and looked down. My heart froze in my chest.

I saw my little baby, lying in his father's arms, white faced, silent, panting shallowly, with his eyes rolled back in his head. I got the phone and called 911. As we were waiting for the paramedics, and as I described the situation to the EMS dispatcher, the baby’s pupils got huge, his lips started to turn blue, and his little hands and feet began to twitch. I admit I got a little panicked, and said to he dispatcher “We need someone NOW.”

But as we waited, his little gasping breaths became deeper, and he started to whimper, then to cry. I was so glad to hear him cry! He pinked up, looked around a little, then closed his eyes and I took him in my arms. He cried and cried and then the door burst open.

Two police people came in, one man, one woman, and they picked him up, shone a light in his eyes to see if his pupils contracted, patted his cheeks and tried to keep him awake. The policewoman said to her partner “If the ambulance isn’t here in 30 seconds I’m taking him myself.” But the EMS did arrive and they took the baby and me to the same hospital where he was born. My DH followed behind and my other baby stayed with a neighbor. (Who told me later that he asked for Mama a few times and then fell asleep right at 8:45. What a sweet predictable boy! Sometimes having a schedule works. Baby B had his dinner at 6, his bath at 7, his snack at 7:45, played until 8:30 then, just because it wasn’t his Mama, and just because his brother was in an ambulance speeding towards a hospital, he didn’t let it shake him. Bedtime is 8:30/9:00, so he went to sleep at 8:45. Of course, when we got home at midnight, and he realized I was around and available for nursing, he started carrying on, but that’s normal.)

Twin A fell asleep on the way to the ER, and when we arrived at the hospital, the baby all wrapped in those stiff restraints, with his head and neck in a brace, we went right to the Pediatric ER. They asked all the usual questions, age, weight, name, and also for the details of what happened. I kept having to repeat, “He was white faced, gasping, and his eyes were rolled back in his head. At one point his pupils were dilated, his lips started to turn blue, and his little hands and feet began to twitch.” He was examined and two doctors and three nurses kept poking him and prodding him and trying to wake him up. Finally he did wake up and really started crying. They stood him up, and he threw himself at me, sobbing. Everyone seemed happy to see that; it meant he was acting like a normal, tired, frightened little boy. Monitors and wires and gauges were attached and as I nursed him he fell asleep again. They ordered a CAT Scan, which he slept through, the results came back normal, and we went home.

While we were sitting in the examining room, holding him and rocking him and going over what had happened, my DH kept saying, “I am a bad father.” I kept telling him he was a good father and that accidents just happen. I am very glad we were right there; if we had been in the next room, heard a thump, and no crying, we might not have thought anything serious had happened. Can you imagine how you would feel to hear a thump, no cry, and to go into the next room a few minutes later to see your baby lying unconscious on the floor? As it was, I immediately put a cold pack on his head; we stroked his limbs, kept him warm and actually kept him conscious, which helped the situation. I think it was the pain and the shock that caused him to feel faint. I know I pass out when in severe pain; I fainted twice during a tattoo session, once when I slashed open four fingers on an old fish tank and once when I had the worst intestinal cramps ever. Oh, and the fifth time was in a movie theater; I wasn’t feeling well, I was watching a guy on the screen slice open his own arm, and had a vagus vagal episode and passed out. The movie was A Beautiful Mind. I still haven’t seen the ending.

Twin A slept pretty much from his bedtime of 8:45 to 7:00 am, only waking up when prodded by medical personnel, and when he was taken out of the car. It was about 20 degrees outside last night. (I am very glad he slept through the Cat Scan. That could be scary for a little guy.) The DH and I and both babies all slept in the same bed, wrapped around each other, and were happy to do so. My poor, angel baby. I am so relieved and still upset, but I am sure I’ll get over it soon. I bet by the time he’s ready to drive I’ll be back to saying “No!”