Bumper Blues

Okay, I need some advice here, or support of my position, or...something. Anyway, I need to talk to y'all about crib bumpers. After our pediatrician recommended that we remove them now that the babies are pulling themselves up to standing, Brian de-frocked the cribs of their bumpers before bedtime last night and we had one very - crappy - night!

I understand the reasoning: that the bumper can give a baby a few inches in their attempts to get out of the crib. Yet, I haven't seen anyone trying yet. In fact, Ethan, still taller than Emmet, is only eyebrow level with the crib rail at this time. They're only 9 mo old for cry-yi-yi. I think it would require superhuman upperbody strength to catapult out.

What seems more important in the middle of the night is what the bumpers help to contain, and that is BINKIES and tiny limbs. I will not try to impress you with the number of times a mother can be pulled out of bed by a set of twins on the first night sans crib bumpers.

I really, REALLY, really, really want to put the bumpers back on tonight, and every night thereafter, until jr high.
Can I?
Did you?
Can I get an Amen?

My Walking Papers

So it's official. In 60 days, I will no longer be a Harvard employee. Today I received my walking papers. My position is set to terminate. This is no surprise to me: I was lured back to work after the babies were a few months old with the promise of terminating my position (makes it easier for them than having to hire someone to complete the Archive project I work on), and the reward of 10 weeks severance pay. What's more, if I finish the project in less than 60 days, which looks possible, I will still be paid through the end of the notice, plus severence after that. It's a good deal. A great deal. and it's a good thing. Here I am in my office after 5pm, getting some hours filled while Brian puts the babies to bed and we don't need to wrangle a patch job of childcare, in order to do this silly, pointless job that I don't care a flying flip about. And the severance will give me some time to pull together a better balance of work that I do care about: teaching Nia, teaching writing (hell...maybe even DOING some writing). It's a good thing. But after ten years at Harvard, I realized today just how much I've come to define myself by my work here. Getting my walking papers just doesn't feel nearly as freeing as I thought it would.

Twin Tantrums

Okay folks...I was under the impression that tantrums came with toddlers. Not precious little babies. And when exactly do they switch from babies to toddlers? And please, please don't tell me that these fits are going to be part of my daily life for the unforseeable future (because if that is the case, I might start stealing the dog's prozac -- see next post). Why is it starting so soon? They're only 8 months old. And more importantly, when is it going to stop? And MOST importantly, how do I guard against tantrum CONTAGION, which is what we have been experiencing these past few miserable days in the Corey house.

Yesterday, I made the mistake of thinking I could get dinner in the crockpot when I got the second kid down for a late morning nap. I'm not sure what led me to this conclusion, since Emmet only sleeps for 15 minute daytime spurts, unless he is held in my arms. But seeing as I had a good coupla pounds of beef chuck in the fridge and no baby in my arms, I thought I might have enough time to cut it up and brown it -- the only step that requires physical agility when cooking a pot roast in the crock pot. I was wrong. I was very, very wrong.

It's hard to soothe a baby who is shrieking for no apparent reason, while your hands are dripping with raw, red meat. It's much harder to calm two of them. And then there are the dogs who are either shaking in the corner wishing that I would do something to make the screaming stop (or at least get to CVS to fill his prozac perscription), OR sensing my desperation views this moment as the perfect opportunity for a chunk of beef to land right in her panting open mouth if she can continue to wind her body between my feet until I crack. The recipe called for a cup of red wine. I stared down the remainder of that bottle wondering about the consequences of finishing it off at 12:50 in the afternoon. But I wanted to be clear headed for Miles' doggy shrink appointment at 3pm, so I pulled it together.

Today, they are home with Aunt Carol for the first Tuesday of her weekly childcare commitment. I called to see if she was ready to start drinking at this point in the day as well, but she said they had not cried at all. THEY HAVE NOT CRIED AT ALL!!! They're storing it up, waiting for me to get home. They are saving their screams for mommy. How darling!

birth control

It's not that I don't like them, or that I want to give them back. It's just that I don't care to have one or (god forbid) two more. Partially because I've already given away these shirts. And since it seems that my ovaries are inclined to dropping multiple eggs, I've opted to go back on the pill, although I'm not sure it's the best fix, but the nurse practitioner has convinced me that there's no reason not to while one of us decides to step up for the more permanent fix. I started the pill ten days ago, after my second post-natal visit from good ole Aunt Flo, who returns with a nasty vengence, as if she's got a score to settle. Thus another point in favor of the hormonal helper.

Maybe I'm more sensitive to my body now, but I'd say the hormonal side effects are far more pronounced apres twin pregnancy. Just yesterday a teenaged runaway in Harvard Sq called me "Pizza Face." Okay, that's a total lie, but if you saw me, you'd know why I'm so self-conscious. I have zits that hurt. Big ones, deep under the skin. And strange sensations in the breasts, particularly the left, that feels a lot like let down. Did my boobs feel like milk was coming in during my prior years of pill popping and I just had no way of naming the sensation before brest feeding? Add the past five days of extreme break through bleeding and...I think I need someone to remind me why I decided to take this pill again.

Thus the picture. It's not even a strong enough reminder. I need one in which they're BOTH red-faced and screaming!

old men and the sea..er, lake!

Oh screw it, I hate Hemingway anyway: masogynist bastard.
So the boys got their first taste of Lake Winnipesaukee a few weeks ago.
Could these swimsuits be any cuter? Don't they look like little old men? Thanks grammy, for all the baby shopping you do on your lunch hour.

I wish this photo better reflected Ethan's utter glee for aquatics. He shreiked with laughter from the time we entered to the time we exited the lake. Kicking his feet and making a splash never fails to shock and delight him, over and over again. The water has a calming effect on Emmet. Upon submergion he gets super chill, and far too fascination by the environment to look at mommy or daddy or Nana with the camera.

This day also marked their first introduction to Mila, daughter of Tara and grandchild of Gail, my very best Lake friends who I totally grew up with in this very spot where we swam -- at the colony beach, none of us colony members any longer. But after 20-odd years of ownership, we'll always claim squatters rights.



Here on the same beach where Tara and I and all the other kids offered up variety shows for the adults while they sucked down G & T's at 'happy hour," Mila becomes more familiar with the twins. She finds their belly buttons compelling, and will chase both Ethan & Emmet scurrying across the blanket for a chance to poke their navels.

Babies, they're so ... chubby :)

Boogie Footage

So if your missed the Barefoot Boogie with live drumming I organized thanks to the help of Sue Landers, you were in the MAJORITY. I think we had 7 dancers all night -- which was a shame, because the drummers were so unbeliveably good! The few of us who were there danced a little slice of Nia heaven that night. Here's what you missed. Now, promise me you are going to come next time?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1n7duBv7T2g

More on Spirit Mandated Chocolate

Had so much fun with Spirit yesterday that we returned to Cardullo's just now, but not before emptying the change out of my wallet: $2.25 in coins (I left the pennies behind). That's what I had to play with. There were many items to choose from at the $1.99 price point. My pick jumped out at me due to the language on the wrapper:

"Dolfin -- the Art of Blending."

This Belgium company blends chocolate with other exotic flavors, resulting in "sometimes surprising but always harmonius combinations." Dolfin's website promises to deliver "a world of pleasure within reach of your tastebuds." How harmonious is Dolfin to Nia? It's all about the pleasure, baby! And "the art of blending" is so Aikido. This will likely be the inspiration for my class focus tonight. See what I mean about Spirit heloing me get sh*! done?

The variety I chose is called Hot Masala from India. It blends Milk Chocolate with Indian spices that sort of reminds me of chai, or a mild curry heat on the back of the throat, amidst a milky fullness in the front palate.

This is a really good game. I recommend you try it, and post your Spirit Mandated Chocolate findings in the comments section.

Hang out, have fun, get sh*! done -- with Spirit

This morning, I saw a very old man pushing a baby in a stroller (likely a grandchild) and wearing this hat. It was all I could do to stay in the car -- I wanted to jump out and follow him. "That guy's nuts," Brian said. "That guy's got some kahonahs!" I said. Really, he was just in touch with his spirit.

So that thing I teach - Nia - it's a body-mind-emotion-spirit program. The idea is that Nia is holistic because when we do it, we address the whole person: body, mind, emotion, spirit. Spirit can feel like a loaded word, and I never really knew what we were suppose to be doing in those week-long Nia trainings when "accessing the Spirit realm..." Praying? Begging for forgiveness? taking a nap while pretending to meditate?

Somewhere along the line, Nia HQ got really clear about the realm of Spirit having more to do with creating an open channel to one's own authenticity. Everyone has their own spice, things that make them unique. Accessing Spirit is as easy as personifying the part of you that represents your authenic self, and then asking your spirit to hang out with you for the day. Inviting that part of you to call the shots for an hour, or for your typical walk or ride to work can open your eyes to new things, and even some cool syncronicities.

Here's how I chose to hang out with spirit yesterday:
Now I have worked in Harvard Square for ELEVEN years. Believe me when I say that the charm is long gone. There is nothing to eat here that I am not totally tired of, no longer any stores I want to shop in. The bums here don't even bother with me anymore. Yesterday I decided to play a game with Spirit called "Break My Habits." At lunch time, I opened my wallet and asked Spirit to choose how much i would spend on lunch. She said "five spot." I took the five, left the wallet behind, and went out into the square to find myself a lunch item that cost as close to $5 on the dot as possible. It was a veggie burrito from Felipe's with Guacamole. While this was tasty, it was only slightly different from my regular carnitas with guac & cheese.

Later in the day I tried again. Late afternoon chocolate. Spirit took $2 from my wallet. Bravo, I thought. Better to play with since $2 is too much for a Twix bar from Tommy's Convenience store across the street, and too little for a chocolate chip walnut cookie from Finale (I am sooo set in my chocolate ways). We (me & my Spirit) went to Cardullo's to peruse the imported chocolate bars. I was drawn to the familiar packages, but most were priced $2.49 or $2.99. Then a bunch of Cadbury's. I'd never tried those but knew the name, yet at $1.99 I was uncertain about tax. FInally, a sign for $1.49. The Pernigotti Cremino bar -- milk chocolate with hazenut and almond. I bought it and really tasted it's nutty silkiness on the walk back.

Just steps from my office, a woman with a double stroller approached. I noticed the kids, about a year old and asked if they were twins. Twin-Stroller-woman confirmed. Then I asked if she is Jen, a woman I've been emailing with who lives somewhere in the immediate vicinity. She's not, she's actually not the mother but the babysitter. We parted and then I realized, here is a woman who has experience babysitting twins, in front of my office, while I'm about to go inside and post an ad on Craigslist for a childcare provider. I turned around and stopped her, asked if she worked for the family fulltime. "Actually the family is moving back to Israel and today is my last day of work."

That is what happens when Spirit gets to take the lead. You have fun, try new things, and the sh*! that needs to get done, magically gets done.

the family bed

Before the title of this post misleads you, I'll set the record straight: we are NOT a co-sleeping family. The concept of co-sleeping didn't even appeal to me when I thought I was only carrying one baby. I did not register for a co-sleeping attachment. I had no plan, at any point during the pregnancy to commit what seemed to me the equilavent of hooking a trailer up to my bed. After all, I'd done a terrible job of getting the dogs out of the bed before the babies were born. We already had two of them fighting it out for bed real estate: a combined total of 140 lbs of doggie, mind you. Plus I was so incredibly sexually charged during my pregnancy (NOT MY FAULT -- testosterone of TWO males floating around inside me), yet so discouraged about attempting to actually initiate sex with my mammoth girth, that I really expected we'd be enjoying all kinds of post-natal romps once the boys were out of my belly and safely in their own cribs and in their own rooms. I'm sure it will come as no surprise to any of you that the romps were a faulty prediction on my part. But I digress.

So the thing is...since the babies dropped their dream-bottle, they've been waking between 5-6am, but not looking for a feeding until around 7am. Sometimes Ethan sleeps through and Emmet can be heard playing with his plastic crib-mounted Aquarium and making gurgling noises at the fishies. Sometimes it's both of them. The desire for that extra hour of sleep won out over the intention to not set bad habits. Brian and I each scoop up a kid and bring them into bed with us, where we can generally lure them back to sleep in a set of arms. Initially, I worried about allowing this practice. How would we ever get them to sleep through to 7am in their own crib if we kept it up? But I've come to LOVE this time so much, I can't see myself discouraging it when they're a year old, 5 years old. 10 years old? Maybe. I have a feeling that my boys will lean toward the grubby and unshowered variety of 10 year old. For now, falling to sleep together is as close as we get, one parent to one baby, and as a family. Having twins, I feel like I'm always putting one down to attend to the other, or to change the laundry, or to finally let the dogs out for a pee. Now that we're done nursing, it's the one time I get to be skin-to-skin with one in an extended fashion. Since I'm back to work, most days for at least a few hours, I feel like this early morning soiree in the family bed is the most important time of the day.

And yes, as you can see from the photo, sometimes we simply can't keep the doggies from joining us. How can I exclude? Some day soon, we'll need to go King Size.

Restorative Yog-aaah!

Just coming off the Restorative Yoga weekend that is a component of the Elemental Yoga teacher training I'm pursuing. Restorative is by far the best thing I've ever studied. Can you imagine being propped, pampered, massaged, and basically just made completely and utterly comfortable -- as coursework? Delicious. I was actually repeating the module. When I took it last year I was almost six-months pregnant with twins, big as a barn already, and about as mobile. not that one needs to be in any sort of physical condition to benefit from this practice, but pregnancy puts so many restrictions on how the body can be positioned. There were many poses I couldn't experience in my body the first time around. But when I landed in the hospital a few weeks afterward, needing an emergency procedure due to indicators that my cervix was weakening and that it wouldn't hold the babies, I was feeling very fortunate to have participated in the weekend training and to have started a Restorative practice.

I think the best way to describe Restorative is "active surrender." Active may seem like the wrong word choice, since Restorative is not considered an active practice. Yet, as one grows in his or her Restorative practice, the practicioner cultivates a degree of vigilance over letting go, accepting nothing less than complete comfort. Choice is actively involved -- as in, I am choosing to not settle for "sort of comfortable," although that may be the case in the beginning because "sort of comfortable" feels so much better for lots of people new to the practice than the way they're used to feeling. The expectation that complete comfort is available and recreatable everytime we practice just really turns me on. Disassociation with physical sensation is so widespread in our culture. We're asked to sit in a chair all day, at our desks and in our cars. I once had an Alexander Technique teacher tell me that chairs are the mortal enemy of the spine. And as you might have noticed, our digestive systems aren't too fond of sitting in chairs for long stretches either. There is just a lot of undoing that needs to occur on a physical level that Restorative aids with gently, by allowing the body to stop holding. Even if one is never conscious of receiving all the benefits of Restorative that are going on in the background, fine tuning the nervous system by inhibiting the fight or flight response and encouraging the relaxation response, thus enhancing the immune system, or if one is never able to fully quiet the mind, at the very least they are choosing to attend to the undoing of the physical stress put on the body even if it's solely environmental in nature (the office, the commute, gravity).

If this all sounds really good to you, check out the work of Judith Lasater, the mother of Restorative, in her book "Relax and Renew: Restful Yoga for Stressful Times." Here's a link to her site, which demonstrates how to relax into a supported backbend. http://www.restorativeyogateachers.com/relax/simplebackbend.html


Most of us don't have bolsters like the one in the photo, but not to worry: most of us don't need more height than one or two folds of a blanket. Let the unfolded end trail out under the shoulders and head like extra mat. If you have a long pillow, tuck the knees into the chest while you place it under the knees or closer into the tailbone, then let the legs casade over it, releasing any tension in the low back as the feet drape down toward the floor.

Restorative gave me amazing tools for my twin pregnancy, bedrest, labor and delivery. Most poignant for me was the ability to draw on my then newly-found Restorative practice when I had the emergency cerclage due to fear of preterm labor. The procedure was risky for the babies at 23 weeks, and not doing the procedure was even riskier. I was scared. I cried a lot while making the decision and being prepped. Then when they took me in, just working with the 2-1 breathing, I was able to keep my nervous system calm. When the anethesiologist checked my blood pressure and heart rate during the procedure, she said "Wow! You're heart rate is low. in a really good way." I shared what I was doing, and all the docs and nurses in the room were totally excited about it. This experience really gave resonance to the title of Lasater's book: restful yoga for stressful times, indeed!

Restorative: it's a gooood thing.

Empty Spaces: the Uncluttering process from Breast to Solid food

On Sundays during the month of July, I don’t often find myself home cleaning house. But Since Brian was working on the rental unit, I was determined to get somewhere in terms of reorganizing our own apartment during naptime today, since we are busting at the seems with so-much-baby-stuff.

I started clearing out the cabinet where we keep bottles, throwing away the remaining breast milk storage bags when I realized that I could actually get rid of that horrid strap-on pillow I used for nursing as well, “My Breast Friend” they call it, the inner-tube we called it. That thing was taking up plenty of decent real estate next to my bed. I didn’t need it hanging around to remind me that breast feeding my two boys didn’t go exactly as planned, that in fact nursing is not necessarily the most natural thing in the world. Whatsmore the rented hospital grade double breastpump could be returned. I moved that out of the bedroom as well. It was already starting to look less cluttered. More serene, albeit empty.

I paused momentarily from my task prepared to beat myself up as I had each time I’ve seen someone nursing their child in the past few weeks since I ended Ethan’s morning feeding -- the last remaining meal at the breast between the twins.

I had allowed myself to look back on the first few months with some rather harsh self-criticism. Couldn't I have increased my milk production if I'd only tried a tiny bit harder? If I only gave up a tad more sleep, in order to pump? If I'd only attempted to get them off the middle-of-the-night formula feeding?

But my current chore kept me in check this time. I filled a shopping bag with the bottles we no longer used and the slow flow nipples, designed for newborns. We don’t have newborns any more, we have 6 moth olds. And the empty space left by removing the paraphenalia from when they first came home I replaced with sippy cups, small bowls in which I warm up their oatmeal, and big boy bottles. I'm grateful to be at this point: the twins are fun now, I am having fun. I laugh when they're placed too close together for a feeding, and Ethan tries to swipe the spoon away from Emmet's mouth. Greater enjoyment is afforded through greater confidence. I know they're getting enough nourishment now: physically, emotionally. And I know that the stuff I don't know isn't going to destory them. There is a huge relief in letting all this stuff go...out of the house in shopping bags, and out of my preoccupation. Emptying is a form of surrender that makes space for what is of greater use in the moment and in preparation for the moments to come.

You've Got Your Hands Full! Grown-ups say the darnedest things...

It’s getting annoying. Every time we take a “family outing” (pack up the babies, the dogs, the double stroller, the diaper bag, and actually leave our property), there’s that saying, or some variation on it. Before the boys were born, I’d heard that it would take longer to get anywhere because twins make people go ga-ga and suffer a temporary loss of their personal barriers. They just blurt stuff out like, “wow! two babies AND two dogs. You must be superwoman.” It didn't bother me at first. I found it rather enjoyable to talk to strangers more often, strangers with an air of congeniality no less, I mean, who doesn't like babies? But suddenly it became an intrusion. Imagine walking through a lovely and populated scene like Portsmouth, NH (since that’s where our most recent outing brought us) and every other group of folk who pass you on the street chosing to comment on some facet of your situation.

"Wow, you must be busy!"
"Jeez, looks like a lot of work to me."
"You've sure got your hands full!"

After 5 or 6 blocks of this, I start internalizing. Gee I am busy..it really is a lot of work. In fact I have got a lot of work to do. My life is HARD, man! What am I doing here, roaming around like I've got nother better to do with my Sunday? There's laundry piling up!!!

This line of thinking can really screw up a leisurely summer stroll with the family.

Next time you see a mother-of-multiples, or just someone whose life looks a bit more full than yours, do her a favor, and STOP REMINDING her!

Physical Agility: choose a stream & step in

For the past week, my class focus has been on Agility.

Agility is the balance between stability & mobility. In Nia, we describe Stability as the sensation of being in a powerful pause. Stillness. Rooted. Waiting. Stalking the next movement. And Mobility: the sensation of energy in constant motion.

I trust that it may be obvious to you, my gentle readers, why a mother of 6 month old twins might benefit from conditioning her agility skills. Just when I'm ready to settle in for a nap with Emmet, he decides he can only stop screaming if I walk continuous laps around the living room sofa. Conversely, when I'm out on the town with the boys (read: Babies-R-us or Target, take your pick) and we're soo darn close to finishing uo our errands...everyone decides they need to stop and eat a bottle right-this-very-moment!

When we experience our agile bodies, we are connected to the ease of starting and stopping. Visualize kids playing a game of tag. They mobilize to avaoid being tagged, but once they're "it" stopping on a dime to scout out their prey, before mobilizing again to tag the next one. Gracefully, artfully.

Something I noticed this week in myself and others while focusing on agaility in Nia class: when practicing physically, we can sometimes feel the need to recreate the flow of energy, and as well, to take a fair bit of time and effort to still the body.

Imagine that these 2 energies already exist: Mobility and Stability energies are constantly available and active. And all we have to do is tap into one or the other. It is a decision to participate. While we are responsible for being present with the energy, in order to participate fully, we are not required to create it each time, but simply to chose stability and enter the powerful pause that is always in existence, or chose mobility and enter the flow of energy in constant motion. Just like stepping into a stream.

Try it. Put on some music that you love. During the verse, freedance mobility. Sense energy moving seemlessly through your body. The movements can be big or small or both, but the energy should flow continually. When the chorus comes, root the body in stillness. Whe you arrive, take a sensory snapshot of what that feels like, to be stable in your body, so that you can return to the exact same place effortlessly. Listen for the next verse to begin. Visual the stream of mobility. See what the water looks like, hear what it sounds like. When the verse does come, invite yourself to simply step into the moving stream. Next chorus, try the same with the stream of stillness.

If this exercise failes to hammer it home for you, feel free to borrow a baby or two for the afternoon. Really, just ask!

If you can enjoy the shifting tides that agility provides for the body, imagine what this practice might do for all the shifting demands that are places on your time in tems of minding the mental realm, and the emotions too.