Disease Central

After last week's stomach flu left me hospitalized we were hoping things would settle down in the illness department. Instead, the day I was released from the hospital, Michael was up in the night with a fever of 104. Not wanting to be left out, David finally admitted to himself that he needed to see a doctor after suffering through a week of terrible headaches and sinus pressure, and was diagnosed with a sinus infection. And then, just for kicks, I decided to get an earache and have thrown a little cough in there for good measure.

But the good news is that both babies are angels and, so far, (fingers crossed!) they have avoided getting sick. Hopefully we'll be able to say the same for Grandma, who arrived Sunday night and has since been sneezed on more times than she can count. We're still letting Michael hold the babies since the minute we turn our backs he kisses them on the lips or coughs in their faces anyway. No need for quarantine when the entire house is swimming in germs, I say. We'll just hope the babies are hanging on to the little immunity boost from me and try to sanitize hands as often as possible. (Because the hand sanitizing does a lot of good when you have a three-year-old who likes to wipe his nose everywhere, including baby blankets and burp cloths. Sigh).

Here is proud big brother holding his little sister ("Come here, sweet girl," he said before holding her):


And two sleepy babies:


My, that sleeping picture is simply inspirational. I think I'll go take a nap.

Welcome, Babies!

We are thrilled to announce the arrival of Matthew Hyatt and Leah Kathleen! Matthew weighed in at 7 lbs. 5 oz., and Leah at 6 lbs. 3 oz.

Leah is on top and Matthew is on the bottom:


Matthew on the left, Leah on the right:


Leah's newborn glamour shot:


We are all doing well, even after a little drama that required me to be re-admitted to the hospital (while there is never a good time to get the stomach flu, mere days after having a c-section is definitely one of the worst). It was very traumatic to be separated from my babies, but David did a wonderful job holding everything together at home with the help of our wonderful friends and ward. Thank you to everyone who came to our rescue!

I will post more pictures soon.

Thanks, But No Thanks

There are good ideas, there are bad ideas, and then there are ideas that shall forevermore be known as Holiday-Inn-bad.

You see, the hotel chain is offering a new service at one of its London hotels. If you are one of those people who hates getting into a cold bed, you can request a "human bed warmer" to make it nice and toasty for you. This hotel staff member will don a fuzzy bodysuit and make himself at home in your bed until it reaches a comfortable temperature. Then he'll hop out so you can climb in the bed before the warming effect wears off. It's sort of like turndown service - just swap out the chocolate on your pillow for a serious case of the heebie jeebies.

But apparently the potential for willies is lost on Holiday Inn spokeswoman Jane Bednall, who described the service as being "like having a giant hot water bottle in your bed."

Okay, then I have a better idea: How about offering hotel guests a giant hot water bottle to put in their beds? Or an electric blanket? Or a heating pad? Or warmed stones? Or, heck, offer them a bowl of baked potatoes to put in their pockets.

Because I'm certain I am not the only person who is already grossed out by the idea of sleeping in a bed that has been used by hundreds of strangers. And I'm very certain I'm not the only one who wouldn't want to add a fresh body to that list.

Besides, what are you supposed to do while someone is "warming" your bed for you? Stand there in your nightie and tap your foot impatiently? Excuse yourself to the bathroom? Have an uncomfortable discussion about politics?

This idea isn't just bad, it's creepy. And it's making me all twitchy just thinking about it, so I'm going to go shake off my heebie jeebies by watching a movie.

And no, I don't want you to warm up my couch cushion for me.

The Missing Question

Man, I can't believe I forgot to include the infamous "Are you done now?" question on my last post! So, since I am a good sport, I will answer:

If ten years pass by and we have not had another child, then yes, we were done.

If, in those ten years we have another kid, then no, we weren't done.

Hope this helps!

Q & A

I have been getting a lot of questions and helpful comments lately, so I thought I would take a minute to address the most common ones:

Why aren't you blogging as much?
Sleep is more important than blogging.

How are you sleeping?
In my bed. Next to my husband.

Are you more uncomfortable than you were with Michael?
For the most part, no, but I tire out about ten times as quickly.

You look exhausted.
Thank you, I try.

I bet you are so ready to be done!
Not really. I enjoy being pregnant and would never wish it away.

You look too small to be having twins.
Thank you. I shall now obsess over my babies being born too small.

Twins! No wonder you are so big!
Thank you again. Would you like to comment on my butt size as well?

Do twins run on your side of the family or your husband's side?
They run in my doctor's office. That being said, this question is irrelevant. My husband could come from a long line of twins and it would not affect my chances of having them myself.

Are they identical or fraternal?
We're having a boy and a girl.

So are they identical?
Um, sure hope not!

How far along are you?
35 weeks.

Are you going to deliver vaginally or by c-section? (most commonly asked by strangers).
I'm sorry, what was your name again? Generally I like to be acquainted with someone before discussing my private parts.

Are you going to breastfeed?
Again with the private parts.

I could never handle twins.
That's nice.

What are you going to name them?
We'll let you know after they are born.

What does your belly look like?
Like this (well, that's what it looked like a week ago, anyway).


If you have a burning question that I missed, post it in the comments and I'll answer it. Either that or make fun of it.

One of the two.

A False Sense of Security

Happy New Year! This year I have only one real resolution - to take a shower and get ready every day. I figure that is going to be a pretty good accomplishment, at least for the first few months after the babies arrive.

But if I wasn't already committed to flying to my family reunion this summer, my resolution would probably be never to fly again. Ever. Not because I'm scared of terrorists or anything - no terrorist is going to be able to do his evil deeds without an entire plane full of people beating the crap out of him - but because I'm scared of airport security. Seriously.

Yesterday I read that passengers in Newark airport were delayed for six hours (SIX!) because someone slipped through security without being checked. Planes were grounded, everything was shut down, and TSA panicked their way through trying to find the man who breached security while passengers started filling out change of address forms (home address: Newark Airport) to send to the post office.

The fact that I'm irritated by this is nothing new - I have always been annoyed by post 9-11 airport security - having to put my 3 oz. liquids in a clear plastic bag while waltzing through with an entire box of liquid medications and needles, no questions asked, just doesn't make any sense. They let people through with baby formula, juices, and Gerber graduate food. And yet, when Michael was two months old, I still had to remove his shoes so they could see if I'd sewn bombs into the linings.

Note to self: if you want to commit a terrorist act, disguise your explosives as baby formula or medications.

In the wake of the underwear bomber, some airports are resorting to strip search by x-ray. Frankly, I think this is pretty much pointless, but if they want to take a glance at my personal, um, space, then they deserve what they get. Do stretch marks show up on those things? I hope so. I'd like to give them a good scare.

Now, I'm not annoyed with airport security in general. I'm annoyed that airport security in its current state is completely pointless. Old grannies and frazzled moms are being hassled while young, middle-eastern men are being allowed to pass through without a second glance. If I were a terrorist and someone tried to stop me from going through security, I'd start yelling about racial profiling and lawsuits and watch the screeners panic.

Airport security is about as effective as bag checks at museums - what good does it do to have someone poke a stick and a flashlight in your bag for two seconds? Or to have you walk through "metal detectors" that can't seem to detect the fact that you just walked through with a metal-framed stroller?

Does this really make anyone feel better? Do people not realize that someone could fill up a private plane with bombs and fly it into a building without going through a single security check? There are so many ways of getting around the "safeguards" that I can't even count them (and who better to figure out ways to do that than terrorists who are bent on destroying us?). But, I'm starting to think the goal of terrorism is no longer to kill us all in one fell swoop, it's to annoy us to death by causing new regulations to be put in place requiring airport officials to frisk our toddlers as they go through security. Or to cause days-long delays on our flights by leaving "unattended" bags full of tissue paper scattered around the airport.

Americans will put up with these delays because it makes them feel safer, and the terrorists will be laughing themselves silly as they figure out a way to cause some really big tragedy. We won't notice anything suspicious because we will have poked our eyes out with sticks after being stuck in an airport for 37 hours, and the bag screeners will be too busy confiscating fingernail clippers to notice anything important, like the "Hi, my name is Plane Blower-Upper" sticker attached to that terrorist-looking guy.

So what's my solution for airport security? Big guys, with Uzis.

That would be so much more effective than confiscating my 4 oz. hand lotion.

A Soft Approach

The headline of this article is: "Do we want toilet paper to be soft or good for the environment?"

Hmmm... let me think...

There are a few things out there that I will absolutely not give up, even if my doing so meant that I could single-handedly save the earth from whatever impending environmental disaster is supposed to kill us all. Disposable diapers are number one. Soft toilet paper just might be number two (no pun intended).

But I guess I'm just selfish that way. Because, apparently, the soft, quilted stuff comes from virgin forests, while the rough, flimsy stuff comes from paper that has been around the block a few times. According to an unnamed source, if every American family would buy just one recycled roll of toilet paper one time it would save something like 400,000 trees.

That's all well and good, but honestly, who likes to sandpaper their behind after using the facilities? I feel no need to bond with my ancestors by employing their medieval wiping methods.

And am I the only one who has noticed that the tiny squares of counterfeit toilet paper in public restrooms result in the need to use a stack-and-a-half for one potty session? It's the soft, quilted stuff that does the job more efficiently, and it requires a fraction of the paper.

So the soft approach seems to make more environmental sense, especially if you are Sheryl Crow, who said a few years ago: "I don't want to rob any law-abiding American of his or her God-given rights, but I think we are an industrious enough people that we can make it work with only one square per restroom visit, except, of course, on those pesky occasions where 2 to 3 could be required."

She later said she was joking, but that's probably because she got caught by the paparazzi buying a Costco-sized bag of Charmin Ultra.

But hey, as long as she only uses one square at a time...