Meth Addiction vs. Twins

I confess I've really been dragging this week.  In the worst way.  But I didn't realize how bad I really looked until I looked through some pictures my mom had taken of me and Pierce, building a gingerbread house we got on after Christmas clearance.  Wow.  I really look rough!  Kind of reminded me of those druggie pictures.  You know, this is what you look after 6 months to 6 years on meth:

See, here I am with Pierce the summer before getting pregnant with the twins. 

I look happy.  Alive.  Skinny.  Vibrant.  Like I had just run 8 miles on trails.  Effortlessly.  Which I had.  It was a gorgeous late August day in one of our nearby state parks, where we had rented a cabin. 

Now are you ready for this?  It's ugly.  This is real life, what carrying twins to full term and living without sleep for months and months and months can do to you.  Viewer discretion is advised.

Somehow, I expect the ups of having two healthy baby boys are a million times better than the ups of methamphetamine.  :-)  Thankfully. 

As for our gingerbread house Pierce and I made.  Well, it faired about as well as the meth addicts:

I kind of know how it feels. 

Bad Jokes, and Reid caught without any tomatoes.

Do you see?  Do you see what I have to put up with?  I mean how BAD was that joke?  And Cort is telling jokes all day long.  Plus, he hogs the exersaucer AND he is always rolling on top of me during floor time.  Do you think I like being rolled on?  Plus, JUST LOOK at this stupid monkey hat.  Who designs this stuff?  Now excuse me while I go use the Jumperoo before Cort wakes up. 

Sometimes I think it's better to just bite my lip.

Hey Reid!

Knock Knock

Who's There?

Figs

Figs Who?

Figs me a bottle of milk, before I starve in my Bumbo!

Family Yoga

Yesterday I was still terribly sore from my hill run on Friday.  And Paul was sore from chopping up trees.  So we thought it would be a good idea to do some yoga.  We chose Rodney Yee's Family Yoga.  While Yoga Kids is lighter and more geared towards toddlers, Family Yoga is a workout that is more appropriate for the whole family.  Pierce likes doing the headstands, with a little help from his dad.
A while ago Paul had gotten me some Gaiam yoga socks as a birthday gift or something.  I hadn't worn them because I forgot about them.  Now I'm not big on socks period.  In fact, I think 40* weather is perfectly appropriate for flip flops.  My toes like to breathe!  And if it gets colder than that, I still try to wear shoes or boots that are so soft and fuzzy inside they don't require socks.  The only time I don't mind wearing socks is when running.  So I was leary of the yoga socks, especially since they had the separate toe compartments.  However, I found they actually helped with the yoga.  The treads helped me stick the positions and work a little deeper in the poses.  Being completely inflexible (I can't touch my toes) this is a very good thing. 

Reid napped throughout yoga.  He was tired from third level hand examinations.  Look at hand.  Open fingers.  Close fingers.  Open fingers.  Close fingers.  Open just the pointer finger.  Oooooh, amazing.  Close pointer finger.  He did this for an hour.  Very tiring, as you might imagine.

Cort....well, you know he doesn't get tired!  Nor does he sit still long enough to contemplate the miracle of his hands.  So he practiced a little upward dog himself.

The Empire Strikes Back

Alert all commands:  calculate every possible destination along their last known trajectory. 

Size matters not...look at me.  Judge me by size, do you?

What?  You think I care that I don't have some stupid Star Wars costume?  WRONG!   If you didn't notice, I AM Obaby-Wan Cortnobi.  And I am going to take over the galaxy.

Retail Therapy

Yesterday I begged Paul to watch the boys so I could escape get out by myself.  Toting some Christmas money, I went shopping.  Yes, shopping!  Shocking, I know.  I don't get out much lately.  Shopping for clothes when just 4 months postpartum can be a little grueling.  But yesterday I became a believer.  IN VANITY SIZING.  Oh thank you thank you thank you for vanity sizing!  Thanks to vanity sizing and the low rise epidemic, I was fitting in size 6 jeans.  Which is my normal size.  Only these jeans aren't like the size 6s of yesteryears.  But hey, I'll take all the vanity sizing I can get.  And then some.

Of course, I spent all of yesterday feeling guilty that I'd taken pictures of myself with Reid but not with Cort.  Mother's guilt is just all-encompassing all the time sometimes.  So I was determined to capture a picture of Cort and I.  It took 7 takes to get one that wasn't completely blurred because of him flinging about.  He is just so busy all the time.  It's a little grainy because I took it with my cell phone, but he was still for a second because he was so preoccupied eating his hands. 

I love how the twins are starting to get curious.  Each day, a little more personality emerges.  They are starting to show a lot of interest in the items in their world, and I've started breaking out various toys for them to feel, rattle, and bang on.  They can bring things to their mouths to chew and Cort can roll around to whereever he pleases.  Reid likes to stay put and expend as little energy as possible. 
Check out the soft play toy that Reid discovered:

All of our animals are kid-friendly, and all of our kids are animal-friendly.  Just the way it should be. 

This is Disco.  We got him from the SPCA in Houston, some twelve years ago.  Except for Scooter, our animals are all getting old.

But I've found they sweeten with age.  :-)

WHOOOOO Let the Dog Out?

So after tallying up my depressingly minimalist mileage for 2009, I wanted to start the year off right, with a run.  Normally my running club does this run every year up a mountain first thing on New Year's Day.  I just don't think I have the fitness to make it up that mountain pushing the double stroller right now.  Mostly because I have had to do so much treadmill training and am seriously lacking in stroller and/or hill strength.  So I decided to be a wimp and run from home.  I couldn't run on the old road because it was too icy.  So I could either run on the regular road (HILLS!) or on the treadmill.  I opted for the hills.  It's going to be wicked cold the next few days, but today is mild so I figured I might as well take advantage.
I wiped out the first 200 feet out the door on ice.  Might should've picked the treadmill.  At least I didn't fall in dog poop. 
Started tackling the hills.  I was pleased to note that they are getting easier.  And it really was a nice day out (40* with mild winds).  But I was in for a nasty little surprise.  About a mile and a half down the road is a tiny brick house.  A sweet little old man used to live there, but a couple of years ago a family moved in.  No one told me that they got a new bitch  female dog.  Some sort of black lab cross.  I think of black labs as being friendly dogs.  Wrong.  Not this one.  And she got right in my personal space.  A foot away.  Barking, growling.  All of her fur was standing up.  My what big TEETH you have!  I offered her my glove.  My shoes.  My jacket.  The remnants of a jello shot cup that someone who actually had a fun New Year's left lying on the side of the road.  All she wanted was my head, on a platter, preferably annoited with some gravy and a side of ham.  I ended up walking backwards up a huge hill because I couldn't turn my back on her.  Might should've picked the treadmill. 

I tried to take some pics of the twins when I got back.  It started off well enough.

But soon enough those smiles turned to this:

That Cort!  How am I ever going to keep up with him?

I gave Reid some consoling snuggles. 

Cort is much too busy to snuggle.  I have to spend all my time jiggling, dancing, singing, hopping, and generally doing any goofy thing I can think of to keep that child happy.  And that, my friends, does not need to be preserved on film.  ;-)