A family with new twin babies. What would you tell the parents?

I had a delicious and delightful, yet long overdue tea time with a dear friend and my sons yesterday.  We went to a tea house that I'd never visited before.  Each one of us feasted on banana-coconut-chocolate cake, the colors of the walls and pillows in our tea room, and the presence of those we love.

This morning, my friend sent me a message about some friends she has, who have just become first-time parents to a boy-and-girl pair of twins.  The mother asks, "How can I do this?"  We are gathering love and strengthening words for them.  Feel free to add yours to mine:

Keep them alive, minute to minute.  Yourself, too.

Drink lots and lots of water.  Eat everything your body tells you to.

Ask for help for the things you don't feel you can get to.  Ask often and with force, if necessary (just like the babies do).

Sleep when they sleep.  

Do not wake sleeping babies on purpose, if you can possibly help it.

Invite people to come and hold the babies while you take a shower, feed yourself, etc.

Let you mind be blown by the amazingness of new life.  Boom. Pow. And go back to bed.

It's all right to be afraid.  Just push through it.  

There's going to be the next nursing, the next diaper change, the next bath, the next and next and next . . . you'll find your rhythm.

Overthinking in the first few months of their lives is a first-world problem.

There is evening, there is morning, and each day is good.

An adult child, letting go

I knew when I started this blog that I would eventually need to write about my parents.  I'm just now starting to be well and truly honest about my feelings regarding my relationship with them.  I need a safe place to work through the emotions and ask for advice from peers.

The main reason this blog is anonymous-ish is that I want to keep it from being easily found by my parents.  They would, of course, recognize my family and me from the content right away.  I firmly believe in owning one's truth.  The conundrum is being willing to write it out, knowing that if my dad finds this, I'll have to deal with the consequences.  So be it.

Six days ago, we had a fantastic Sunday. It was one of the best days our family has had all summer!  We'd been to a local town fair and parade, had a cookout with Hero's family, relaxed with cousins, remarked on the beautiful blue sky, and left before there were any meltdowns from the kids.  I went to work, had a successful and productive shift, and came home to Hero just getting a meal on the table and kids running to hug me at the door.

Then my dad called in the middle of dinner.  He's got great timing.

A little background: This year, my dad turned 70.  He and my mom know that they may not have many more good and healthy years left.  To celebrate the summer and his seventieth year, they decided to take an around-the-country tour of his brothers and sisters, and some of their friends.  The trip ended up with them visiting my own brother in Pennsylvania.  They'd been thinking about the fact that my brother is their designated medical power of attorney person, and that it could be good to be nearer to that person, should health concerns become an issue.

My Dad said that he and my mother will be moving halfway across the U.S. to live near my brother and his family.  He told me that they had found a condo just minutes away from my brother's house, made an offer the same day they saw the condo, and that their offer was accepted. 

Thankful, January 8 edition

This blogroll on the side of the screen--yeah, all those blogs I regularly read--these writers are special, hilarious, caring, marvelous people.  On the days that I don't have much courage to face the chores or the mystery of my own thoughts, I can still read their words and be strengthened.

I've wanted to write about my transition into married life, into parenthood, into becoming the parent of not one, but two special-challenges kids.  (Yes, we've noticed that Spark has his own issues.)  And I know I will.  But today, today, I just need to day that I am thankful for the people who put their love and their truth into the world.  I am thankful for those people who do the everyday living and sharing, who keep showing up and keep going on.

Stories all around me

Today's Random Question:  How do the Incredibles' masks stick to their faces?  And if they stick, how are they so easily removed?

I ride the bus to work and back almost every day.  Not a lot of people have conversations on the rides downtown, before work and/or classes at the university. 

I like to greet the bus driver, gently, when I get on each morning.  I like to notice how we both react--are we sleepy, cheerful, distant, grouchy?  Then I pay attention to the people who are already on the bus at the point where I get on.  Very few of them are riders who are on this route at this time every day.

While I sometimes will have reading material to occupy my attention on the bus, I also enjoy just taking the duration of my ride to be mindful of the people around me and the conditions outside.  Yesterday, I sat looking out the window and listened to the cell conversation of a guy behind me.  (It was impossible not to listen.)  He was talking, in varying shades of introspection, about the woman in his life, and how he felt about her.

In just those ten minutes of conversation and from the way he spoke, I put together a fairly detailed idea of who this man was, where he might have been raised, how old he was, that he'd been in jail before, and that he'd had at least one long-term relationship with a woman.  He was unemployed and trying to get on a path of self-improvement.

All these people on the bus all around me.  All these people who share my daily life and space, who I don't really know.  But their stories swirl and flit around me, making me wonder and wonder.  This is the time in my day when I stay unplugged and keep my eyes open.