More Radio Head

As anyone who knows me and Michael is aware, I know nothing about music and couldn't care less and Michael is extremely knowledgeable and interested in all forms of music. I'd be happy never having the radio or CD player on and Michael would be happy to have it on all the time.

He goes through phases that are tied completely to the purchase or receipt of a new CD. He will listen to it endlessly to the point where even I know the lyrics.

So what I am about to tell you should not come as a surprise...even though it did to me.

Parker can now literally sing along with The Teenage Fan Club aka "the fannies". In fact, he can sing one song on his own AND he can sing that same song while strumming the guitar while Daddy makes the chords. If you don't know the song, you wouldn't know what he was saying, but if you know it, he is dead on with tune, pitch and rhythm. It's kinda creepy actually. This song is called, to Parker, Radio Song, since the words "on the radio" are in it.

He also likes to request songs. When he says "fannies", he wants to hear Radio Song. When he asked for "Yoshima", he wants to hear The Flaming Lips. When he wants to hear some bizzare ditty that even I haven't learned yet, he says, "More Radio Head."

Tonight, Dad put on the Beatles, but Parker wasn't digging it. He didn't pitch too much of a fuss, but he did keep asking for Yoshima the whole time it was playing.

I guess I should be happy that he isn't only asking for "More Duck" which is the 'little white duck sitting in the water' song. This is his most common request and Michael and I have come to loathe ducks and everything about the cute yellow, fuzzy beings.

Two sated babies (dad's view)

Some pictures

Afternoon nap


Parker having dinner with Delilah


Can you name this twin?

Everyone is tired.

Although the sleep thing hasn't been too bad (yet), we didn't get much of it last night.

Miranda wants to suck all night long and since I'm still having major pain when breast feeding, she is going unsatisfied which results in a super wiggly baby.

And Parker decided that 5am would be a good time to get up. We thought we could coax him back to sleep until a less horrific hour, but he had other ideas. So I was up at 4:30 to pump and stayed awake until a quick nap at 9:30. Fun. Fun. Fun.

Dad and the gals caught a quick snooze on the couch today to try to catch up on the z's.





And I couldn't resist this cutie pic of the only child who wasn't a trouble maker last night. Sweet Elizabeth...

Identical or not?

I've been asked if they are identical, and whether there's any anxiety about telling them apart. The answer is: nope. These are two obviously different little girls.

Miranda & Elizabeth


Miranda has big cheeks and scrunchy eyes, and looks a lot like Parker did as a newborn. Elizabeth has delicate features and great big eyes. Miranda looks hearty and Elizabeth looks dainty.

Here's Miranda:



and Elizabeth:



So you see, there's really no mistaking them.



By comparison, here's Parker as a newborn:



And here's one of Parker as a ~2 week old looking every bit Miranda's big brother:



Miranda looks so much like Parker as a newborn, I feel like I have a pretty good idea what she'll look like as she grows older. She's lucky, because Parker is good looking, as seen this morning over breakfast:



This should provide some comfort if she follows Parker through a Telly Savalas phase.



So, no, the girls are not identical, they are quite unique. And I look forward to watching them each grow up her own way.



All which is very interesting, incidentally, but does nothing to resolve one of the key issues facing any parent: which primate does my child most resemble? In my view, Elizabeth's delicate features and prominent eyes make her a near cousin to the Bonnet Macaque:



Miranda clearly has a Rhesus thing going on:



And Parker passes for none so much as Dr. Zaius himself:

Bed Buddies

At some point in the past, Michael got the big basket of stuffed animals down off the shelf and showed them to Parker. We hadn't purchased any of them, receiving most as gifts or on top of gifts. I was never really a stuffed animal kind of gal, so I almost threw them all out. Someone (Amy? Michael?) convinced me that he may want them later on and so we stuck them up high.

So Michael shows them all to Parker, one by one. First the Indian cow puppet, then a musical teddy bear, then a giraffe missing one eye thanks to our beloved Kelly, then another fancy, fuzzy teddy bear, and then a small, plain beige teddy bear. Parker picked that one. He started carrying it around. Michael named him Ted. We didn't let Parker leave the house with him and taught him how to "put Ted night night" (ie hucking Ted in the crib and now toddler bed on his own.)

Then he started to like this small blue blankie (lovie) that I got him eons ago at Target. I can't remember why I bought it, but he started hanging out with him too. His name became Lion, since at the top of the blankie was a Lion head.

Every night he would get Ted and Lion and he would laugh with glee when he got them. He hugged them all night long and chewed on their faces at every opportunity. I got worried that we would lose Ted or Lion so every time I went to a Toy store, I would look for duplicates. I've yet to find them.

Recently, he started to add to his collection. Now he has Leo (another blankie type thing with another lion on it), Bob (yet another with a bear on it), Teddy Bear (which is exactly that, one of the rejects from months past), and Elmo (a small stuffed Elmo doll that a relative gave him during a recent trip to Los Angeles.)

Each morning, he wakes up and talks to them. He says, "Ted, Lion, Bob, Leo, Elmo, Teddy Bear," and from the sound of it standing just outside his door, they apparently talk back to him. He has little conversations until he has had enough and starts rattling the door.

Sometimes, he even wakes up in the middle of the night. I think he is confused since his Dad acts likes this when woken up in the middle of the night, but perhaps he is sleep walking. He usually goes to his door, sits down and starts shoving his buddies under it. It's pretty funny to watch from the outside since there is no noise when it is happening. Then you walk in and he gathers his friends and heads back to bed.

This morning, when I went in after the door rattling, he gathered all of them up and walked out into the living room. Then he asked to "watch tv show" (which means Baby Mozart aka Baby Crack). He sat down in what is now known as Parker's Swing (a baby swing that used to be his, but that he has taken back over since it was placed out for the gals.) He still had all of his buddies with him and he looked simply ridiculous. Let's hope he doesn't add to the collection more.

three minutes of baby

File this under things that could only possibly be interesting to the parents, three minutes of the girls after their lunch. Don't feel guilty about bailing out early, but don't miss Elizabeth's sly smile at around 30 seconds.

Like father, like son.

Last night, after Parker's bath, he was sitting on the laundry hamper brushing his teeth. ('Brushing' is a slight exaggeration. He sticks the tooth brush under the water, puts it in his mouth and sucks in. Sometimes there is some back and forth action, but mostly he likes to stick the brush under the water. I've always been slightly thrilled at even this much since I would assume brushing your teeth is one of the things it is hard to get a kid to do. But I digress.)

He was brushing his teeth and then he leaned over the sink and coughed. Then he did it again. Almost put his mouth on the sink and coughed.

"What's wrong asked?", which is a stupid thing to ask a 21 month old since they never are able to explain.

Then he did it again. And again. The cough was very intentional. Almost fake.

Then Michael walked in and I said, "Check this out," as he did it again.

At first he also seemed perplexed, but then quickly said, "Oh. He is copying me."

You see, Michael has this lovely habit and brushing his teeth so much and so hard that it makes him gag and he almost throws up. I've asked him about this many times. "How come you don't brush less or less vigorously?" I've never gotten any explanation that makes any sense and it is just one of the husband and wife things you just come to accept at some point. To be honest, I had forgotten about this delightful habit.

But when Parker started doing it last night, because he wanted to be just like his daddy, it hit home just how much we had to watch ourselves these days. That kid will mimic anything and everything up. (Just the other day, I said, while changing him, Wow, you have a stinky crap. To which he replied as if a question, 'Stinky Crap?')

So although the tooth brushing thing was a bit odd, I'm pretty pleased he isn't swearing at people in the car.

Clean bill of health, totally

We had a follow-up visit from the nurse this afternoon, and both girls check out. Miranda gained 3oz, and Elizabeth posted an impressive 7oz gain. The jaundice is gone, too.

Clean bill of health, mostly

A nurse came out to the house yesterday to examine the girls. Apparently Kaiser used to do this with all newborns, but now it's just for the so-called at-risk newborns, which includes twins. It's a very nice service, since the thought of having to go back to Kaiser for an exam makes me want to break down and weep.

The good news is that the girls are doing well. They both have a slight case of jaundice, which is pretty common, and nothing to stress too much about. The nurse told us to get them some sun, which we have. Their poops are looking good, and shifting from the tarry black meconium of newborns to a mustardy orange. They need to be peeing 6-8 times a day.

Both the girls have lost weight, which is expected of newborns this age. Miranda's weight loss is typical, but Elizabeth's is at about 10% of her birthweight, which is just on the far edge of what's acceptable. So she needs to start packing it on.

The differences in weight loss make sense, given the eating habits they've each displayed so far. Miranda is pretty voracious, and has been nursing constantly since birth. Elizabeth, on the other hand, generally has to be coaxed into eating. While Rachel's breaking in her milk supply, and things are on the challenging side, we've introduced bottles of breast milk to Elizabeth, just to make sure she's eating enough. She has so far glugged down two big bottles, and had an excellently large pee, so we're feeling good.

Parker's World

Parker is so far largely indifferent to Miranda and Elizabeth. He knows they're there, of course, and if you ask him what’s in your arms he’ll say a baby, and if you ask him what a baby says he’ll say wah wah wah, but I don’t think they’ve really made it onto his radar in any meaningful way.

Which isn’t to say that he’s acting as if they aren’t there. Parker has for 21 months been the one true center of the universe chez Long, but now the balance has shifted, and he’s been living on the edge of a funk since we got home from the hospital. He knows something is different, and not in a good way, although he hasn't connected it to the girls. He’s whining more, and slipping into tantrums more frequently, and wanting to be picked up and held. He hasn’t been a problem child, exactly, but he’s obviously out of sorts.

I've been determined to make the transition to a family of five as painless as possible for Parker, and so I've been inclined try to give him at least a close approximation of center-of-universe-hood at least for a little while longer. This has meant, in large part, being willing to sing The Little White Duck to him dozens of times in a row (no kidding) and going back into his room twice or six times after he goes to bed to remind him that yes, he really needs to go night night already, right after this one last verse of eeh eye eeh eye oh. Ordinarily I try not to let Parker play me, but this definitely feels like a situation where some indulgence is in order.

**Update**
I may have spoken too soon on the problem child front. Last night we had an hour-long bout of full-blown hysterics, at 3am, that only resolved when we brought him up to bed with us. Good times. And today he seems to have learned a new phrase: no baby! And the transition continues....

Ignoring the two sunning lumps in the basinet


Falling off the wagon after almost a full year clean


The full family's first trip to the park


Really not wanting to leave the park

La Leche

***Warning***Warning***Warning***Warning***

This blog post may not be suitable for children. Or men. Or women without children.

During my short stay at the hospital, I was visited by a variety of people. Nurses, technicians, OB doctors, pediatricians, social security employees, social services workers and lactation consultants.

The lactation consultants all wanted to tell me about the benefits of breast feeding and check to make sure I was at least considering it as an option. I told them each, "Yes, I will be breast feeding." They didn't seem to believe me. Although they were the ones telling me that I should be doing it, they seemed surprised that I would be breast feeding twins.

"You haven't supplemented yet?" one asked. (Supplemented means "given formula".)

"Nope," I said.

"Really? None at all?"

"Nope."

The whole conversation was inane and even more so when you consider that there isn't even real breast milk yet. At this stage it is called collustrum*, which really isn't milk at all. The milk usually "comes in" around day 3 or 4.

So today, day 3, I am starting to look like a porn star. My breasts are quite large. The milk has just barely started to come in (or more literally, flow out), so there is a lot in there.

With Parker, I got incredibly big. So big, that there was nothing to latch on to. They were like two large honey dew melons. No kidding around either. And they hurt like you wouldn't believe. I always wondered why women didn't want to breastfeed (it is cheaper, more convenient, less messy that formula) and when this happened, I finally understood it. It hurt. A lot. Bottles and formula were looking pretty good.

But I persevered and it got better and easier. Everyone said it was easier from the get go with the second child.

So far, it is pretty similar. A tad bit easier, but the nipples are sore. The boobs are big. And Lanisoh is out in full force.




*This special milk is yellow to orange in color and thick and sticky. It is low in fat, and high in carbohydrates, protein, and antibodies to help keep your baby healthy. Colostrum is extremely easy to digest, and is therefore the perfect first food for your baby

the mouse, the toe, and the staircase

So our cat Zeke likes to catch mice, have his way with them, and then leave the remains somewhere in the house, usually in a high-traffic corridor. Sometimes it's a bird, but usually it's a mouse. Then several weeks ago he brought in a live mouse, which I trapped in a hatbox and released in the back yard, after strongly scolding Zeke against this behavior. (Actually, I chased Zeke with a broom and said scram, you to Rachel's enduring amusement.)

Then several nights later Zeke brought in another live mouse, only this one proved wilier than his cousin, and before I could get him trapped in a hatbox he made his way behind the fridge. My efforts to remove him from my fridge were, alas, unsuccessful. I trusted that the mouse would make his way outside on his own, or meet up with the cats while trying. And after that I just moved on.

That is, I moved on until there was a very fishy smell in our kitchen for a day or so running. I assumed it was due to the fish that had just been cooked there, but Rachel said she'd know the smell of dead mouse anywhere. This was around 10:30pm on Monday night, when we were due at the hospital the next morning. I got my tools out and began the grim task of disassembling the back of my fridge in search of a mouse corpse. The guts of the back of my fridge are not really pretty in the best of circumstances, mind you. After about 20 minutes of fridge-dissection, as I was looking for new angles with which to shine my flashlight, Rachel suddenly remembered that this wasn't the smell of mouse corpse, it was the smell of mouse urine. Which is about the time that the beam of my flashlight hit four boney little claws hunched on my kitchen floor under my fridge.

I don't really want to get into the details of the ensuing melee. Suffice it to say that more appliances were dissected, cupboards were unloaded, and higher-grade flashlights were enlisted to the cause. And suffice it to say that the mouse eluded my hatbox to the last, when the need to get up early in the morning to attend the birth of my twin daughters overrode my desire to have my kitchen rodent-free. We all make our choices.

But at some point during the cupboard-unloading, a large pan was dropped on the three center toes of my left foot. It was a good, sharp blow, although it didn't really hurt much at the time or afterward. It was a blow that seemed like it should do some damage, but didn't, in other words. At least it didn't seem like it had done much damage until sometime in the morning on Wednesday, when my second toe started hurting when I walked. I was up to my ears in babies and recovering wives and sleep-impeding hospital bustle to pay too much attention, but by 1pm when I went home to take a nap, I was limping pretty badly. When I woke up I forgot about it until I stepped out of bed, at which point I fell to the floor in a heap.

So I did another shift at the hospital from 4pm Wednesday to 1pm Thursday, when we were discharged, and I was progressively gimpier as time went on. When I took the suitcase out to the car I was a sad, hobbling site. When we got home from the hospital, I taped the big toe to the second toe, and this made it a bit easier to walk, but I was, and am, still limping pretty badly. I've basically been exploring alternative walking methodologies, giving my heel and the outer rim of my left foot way more action than they're used to seeing. I'm seriously considering a cane. The fact is that when I put any real pressure on that bum toe, I feel an explosion of white hot pain in my foot that forces me, without any real choice is seems, to remove any and all pressure immediately, even if that means flopping to the ground. Teaches you to step carefully.

So tonight things are good here at the Long homestead. Parker is happy to have his mom and dad here, and we're very proud and pleased to be here with him. The girls are sleeping mostly, and eating some, and basically being adorable every second of the day. And did I mention beautiful? Yes, indeed. So we watch Survivor, and eat cereal for dinner, and feed and change and swaddle the girls on the living room couch. The very picture of domestic bliss, and a real respite after the stress of the hospital. And then it's time for the girls to go to bed, and time for Rachel to do the same.

So I take both of the girls in my arms to carry them up the stairs, and this is the first time I've held them both at once, and it's an odd feeling, but it also feels pretty natural, which I find comforting as I limp my way up to the bedroom. And it's just as I'm reaching the top, with my gimpy foot still on the top step and my good foot on the landing, that I lose my balance. It's brief, and subtle, but I'm definitely in the midst of falling sideways and backwards down the stairs, with two sleeping two-day olds in my arms. And without really much in the way of conscious decision, I dig in with my bad foot and shove myself forward, the explosion of pain a badge of fatherhood I wear for an excruciating two or three seconds, with about as much pride as chagrin.

And here's the happy result of my rambling little tale:

Babes in Arms

Friends came by to see the litte ones...

Kirsten and the gals.


Young and Elizabeth


Linda and Elizabeth


Amity and Miranda


Christina and Shayna


Christina has Elizabeth and Shayna has Miranda (we think)

Going Home Never Felt So Good

They moved us to a different room on Wednesday night. We had been in a double room with a private bath without anyone else. But apparently many babies were born that day and they needed the space. So they sent us to a private room with shared bath that was tiny and oddly shaped. We thought we were OK, but the main nurse station was just outside our door. So all night long, in addition to the crying of little Miranda and Elizabeth, we heard phone ringing, nurses chatting, patients coming and going. It was beyond awful.

So this morning, I asked if we could be discharged. The nurses seemed to ignore the request so we asked again and the doctor said "sure". So I got dressed, packed up, dressed the gals and then waited for about 3 hours for discharge instructions.

About 1pm, we finally got going. 30 minutes later, we were home. There is truly no place like home.

Waiting for the elevator.


Elizabeth in her car seat.


Miranda in her car seat.


Both gals in the car.

Introducing...

Elizabeth Ann Long and Miranda Alison Long

6lbs 7oz & 7lbs 2oz, born at 6:35am & 6:37, respectively. 20 fingers and 20 toes. Beautiful. Mother and girls are all doing well.


We'd been planning to have a 9:30am c-section, but the girls were determined to make a grand entrance, so Rachel's water broke at 4am, and we were off to the hospital then. In the labor & delivery triage there was some debate over whether we should just sit tight and keep our 9:30am appointment. However, when Rachel went from 4cm to 10cm in about half an hour, we were off to the races.

I suited up and met them in the operating room, and kept Rachel company while they did their mysterious business on the other side of the curtain. A nurse asked me if I wanted to watch the operation, and I couldn't tell whether she was kidding.

There were no hitches, and soon enough we heard a little yelp, and then another, and suddenly our family was complete.

almost done

Tomorrow is the big day at last. It's been a long nine months, but we made it through. Tomorrow at 7am we check in, and supposedly we'll have the girls out and about by 9:30 or so. Haven't picked the names yet, but there's plenty of time left.

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