The Voice

I cannot believe a year has passed and I have not been blogging..I swore I would blog faithfully and make it all my own..and then poof..365 days passed..I am so consumed with everyday life,with the care of the babies, with the constant struggle of raising a handicapped child, in between the lousy job, and the care of house and home..where did I go? Where is Susan Buro? On a daily basis when I get a chance to pause..I wonder where the greatness I dreamed of went to?? Where's the writer who was going to write an incredible work? Where's passion of it all? I have no career to speak of..and all the education. I am not given to bouts of self pity..I am an eternal optimist by nature..but dammit..I still believe in this voice within. It's a voice so soft and demure, it is very easy to tune out. It is the voice that drips in passionate tones, and brings a skip of hope to my heart. It is the voice that lies in hibernation in the caverns of my soul, that I patiently summon every once in a blue moon. It is the voice the echoes to me in the waves at the beach, in the blur of breezy trees, and floats in the steely smoke of a campfire. The voice that tells me there are great works to come, there is a career, there is life beyond kith and kin, ..when does it all begin??

Thanks to Diane for passing this on...

Happy Mother's Day
By Lori Borgman (Lori Borgman is a syndicated columnist and author of All Stressed Up and No Place To Go, her latest humor book now available wherever books are sold.)

Expectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival say they don't care what sex the baby is. They just want to have ten fingers and ten toes. Mothers lie. Every mother wants so much more. She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two). Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class. Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants. Some mothers get babies with something more. Maybe you're one who got a baby with a condition you couldn't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palate that didn't close. The doctor's words took your breath away. It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming, and it knocked the wind right out of you. Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled him for a checkup, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore the brunt of devastating news. It didn't seem possible. That didn't run in your family. Could this really be happening in your lifetime? There' s no such thing as a perfect body. Everybody will bear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery. Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them. Frankly, I don't know how you do it. Sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that kid in and out of the wheelchair twenty times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear. I wonder how you endure the cliches and the platitudes, the well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if God is on strike. I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy essays like this one - saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary. You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling, "Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes." You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in perspective, so let me do it for you. From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack. You've developed the strength of the draft horse while holding on to the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, counter- balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church: You're a wonder.

New Fridge + Chaos = Anxiety galore

The deep and thoughtful topic I promised has gone down the toilet..I may resuscitate it at a later date. But for now, it is swirling among the fishies.
Did you ever have a day where every damn thing just went south..ticketedy-boo? One damn irritation after another..I had that day yesterday.
We had my new shiny, sparkly fridge delivered..we took weeks to find the perfect fridge. We measured the space where the fridge was to go..but we neglected to measure door ways. So the guys in the truck..tell us there's no damn way the fridge is gonna fit..I thought they were just being lazy asses. But Nope..out comes the measuring tape and it will NOT fit. We also discovered the door leading to our kitchen measures different at the top..at the middle ..and at the bottom. It is not uniform..the guy must have been hepped up on schnapps when the doorway was made. So, the guys wanna take the fridge back to Sears, so we can go pick out a fridge that fits. I had tears in my eyes even pondering this...it was a difficult decision buying the damn fridge. We didn't agree on anything..doors, colour, size..but when presented with this fridge..we both loved it from first look...yup..love at first sight. You know you are a freaking adult when you get excited about appliances!!!
So, Abe took a look at my tearful countenance and said "Leave it in the living room..we'll get it into the kitchen" and then the adventure began. We put an emergency call into my Stepdad, the complete and ultimate handyman. He tore the trim and lintel off the door, which gave us enough room to move the fridge into the kitchen. So we try to fit the fridge into the spot, and it is a fraction of an inch too small. No problem..Abe decides to empty the cupboard that sits next to the fridge, unscrew it from the wall, move it over and rescrew it. This just adds more chaos to a kitchen that was already in Chaos. In case you don't know..I don't do chaos very well these days..I get anxious..I get panicked..I get bitchy..and then it usually ends in a complete meltdown..for me.
I took a deep breath, exited stage left, closed the kitchen door and left Abe to the chaos. All the while he was working in there, I tried to distract myself with Indiana Jones. Honestly, all I could think about was the nails, the wood, the saw dust, the concrete dust, the mess, the crap on the counter, table, and floor. Anal..simply anal retentive.
Finally, he was done. The fridge was plugged in and cool. It fit and looked incredible. I loaded everything back in, and it was so clean and so organized. I was happy as a pig in a pile of shit. I slowly cleaned up a great deal of the mess, and finished most of it today. The chaos has dissipated, and so has my anxiety.
So what the heck am I gonna do when we totally redo the kitchen in five years time??? I'll need a godamn shitload of xanax!!
Oh well, at least I got my fridge- shiny, sparkly, pretty with an ice maker to boot.

Complex

Well dear world..
I am working on a post..it is very complex, personal, controversial and real..I hope to have it up soon..will keep plugging away at it..in between the twins synchronized pooping and their attempts to take over the world...
See ya soon
SZQ

Determination

There is nothing sweeter and nothing more precious than a baby learning to walk. Time and time again they fall, rarely crying. Time and time again, they get up and try again. Fearless and absolute determination to start the path to personal freedom. It is lovely, and special..that drunken toddling.
We should all be so determined and so fearless in all new things..thanks to the innocent baby(Quinn) for the lesson learned..enough said..Cue the Enya music..
SZQ

According to my hair, I am having a Mid-Life Crisis

Good God..what have I done?? I went to the hair dresser today. I have been trying to go for 6 months. You read that right... six months. Something always happens when the scheduled appointment draws near. Last time one of the girls was sick. Time before that, I had pneumonia. I was looking like a sea hag..my hair was down around my shoulders. There was another problem too. My nephew said "Aunt Sue..what is that white stuff in your hair??" I panicked thinking I had developed severe dandruff or perhaps worse(itchy critters if you know what I mean). "What stuff?" I angrily demanded. "This stuff" he answered pointing to all my grey hair. I quickly went to the mirror and realized how grey I had become in the last year. Hmmmmmmmmmm..I wonder where that came from??(see post from March 31st and you will know why!!)
So today was the day..the planets were in alignment, the sunny was shining and Suzy was going to the hairdresser. I sat down and said to Brian,"I don't care what colour you do as long as you cover the grey. Don't make it tacky and don't make it brassy. Other than that, just colour it, and cover the grey".
He giggled madly and mixed up his concoction. He began to spread it on my hair and the creme was a bright pink. "Brian, my hair is pink!!" I exclaimed rather loudly. I will point out I had my glasses off at this point but the pink was brilliant rather stunning. He assured me that pink was not the colour of my hair, just the creme. He sent me off to wait the usual time for the dye to take. I drank coffee and read trashy magazines, enjoying myself.
We rinsed it off and I plopped myself in front of the mirror. I was the one giggling madly. "Brian what the hell is this??" I could only giggle madly and reach for my glasses. Brian at this point was most seriously muttering about not liking the roots and that we may have to apply a toner to it. I stopped giggling. The roots were a funny fuscia colour..I am not sure if that even describes it. The rest of it was a magenta..maybe a light burgundy. He dried it a bit and it looked better. All of a sudden he realized that my roots were a funny colour because of the fluorescent light. We moved to another part of the shop that did not have the fluorscent lights and it looked nice. The cut was fantastic and I felt great. I left the shop giggling again. I got home and Lexi said "It looks nice Mom..kinda pink, kinda purple"!! I waited to see what Abe would say about the colourful hair. He just walked in, smiled and didn't say a thing. I didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed. Oh well, at least I got a haircut!!!

Changes........

Today is one of the most important days in my history. I was gonna wax philosophically (at length) about the miracle of my twin daughters birth. A year ago today our girls were born. Zoey Rose was born at 3:00pm and Quinn Romi was born at 3:02 pm. They came out pink, squalling and delightedly luscious. I said I was gonna wax but honestly, I am too damn tired to wax and I have been tired for a year and then some. A year ago, my journey of caring for two helpless, dependent infants began, and it was uncharted territory for me. I (I realize I am leaving daddy Abe out of this..he has had his learning curve too but this blog is my experience)learned damn quick. Night time was the worst. I was usually lucky enough to have some around to help during the daytime for the first month. .I had a difficult recovery from my c-section but I still did 95% of the night feedings. Imagine, you have a newborn. Night feedings? No problem, pull our your boob or plop a bottle in its mouth. Feed it . Burp it. Change it. Put the baby back to bed. Relief Sweet Relief! Not so with twins. You get one done and then there is still another one needing attention. I had a system worked out that is hard to explain and rather blurry to me. Feed one, put down in bouncy chair, feed other, put in bouncy chair, burp first baby, finish feeding, one last burp, change, back to bed and the same with the other baby. God forbid something mess up my system like an extremely cranky baby. Those were the nights I hauled Abe’s ass out of bed with not so nice words. I was so sleep deprived, I really should not have been driving, using sharp knives or making major decisions. Early evenings were rough too. Abe wanted to go out one time for just an hour to go shopping with his brother. Innocent enough. I gave both babies their last bottle of the night, and put them to bed. I felt quite smug and satisfied. “No sweat this twin thin” I remember thinking. 15 minutes later, all holy hell broke loose. One baby cried hysterically, I would get that baby calm, and then the other would start etc. etc. etc. Then my older daughter(with special needs) became hysterical because the crying literally drove her mad. I yelled at her, making her cry. Then I began crying. When two babies cried, it was horrific for me. I had this complete biological reaction..acute hysteria..I would be comforting one baby but all I could think about was the other crying baby. I wanted to comfort both of them at the same time…an impossible task. My mommy heart would break a wee bit..I was failing miserably. I called Abe on the cell and I kid you not this is what I said “You need to get the fuck home now. I don’t give a shit what you are doing. You need to come home now!!” He got home 10 minutes later, to find a sobbing wife, one hysterical teenager, one baby had burped {finally} and passed out, and the other baby slowly waning its miserable cry. The look on Abe’s face as he stepped into this utter chaos was one I will remember for ever. I remember thinking if he ever wanted to run like hell from domestic bliss..this would be the perfect time. He did not run..he stepped up to the plate and took over. I remember vividly telling him (after he got the others calm) “You might as well plan nothing for a year..we have no life except the babies. Don’t plan anything”. We made sure after that to have someone available to help out if one of us had to go out for a while. The world was forever changed for us. We are very blessed to have the girls, after trying for so long. It has become easier..well maybe not easier. We are coping much better and we are a cohesive team. We have survived the first year!! It has been an arduous year and I would not change one freaking thing about it!!! You know, people often say the stupidest things to us regarding the girls. One of the favourite comments people like to burst out is “Jesus, you got your hands full!!”..and now I always reply “Yes. I do have my hands full..better than being empty!!