Someone recently pointed out to me that this blog is a bit Harlowe heavy and a little Chase light. (By the way, doesn’t a “Chase Light” sound like an icy cold, refreshing beverage?)

But I really don’t think I favor one twin over the other. It’s not like I’m out partying like a rock star with one of them.

Oh. Well, that is a cell phone snapshot of me and Harlowe out at a girls’ dinner. I’m sure Chase just had other plans. It’s not like that happens very often.

Oh snap. That’s me and my girl out to dinner again.

I actually bring along Harlowe because she has a very pleasant demeanor and it’s too cruel to leave Rick with both twins between the hours of 7 and 10 pm. That’s when they cry the most. So we divide and conquer.  Or rather, I divide and go out for dinner.

And that means I pick a lot of food off her head.

So no, I don’t have a favorite.

It’s just that Harlowe is like a sweet, calming angel.

And Chase is also an angel. Just one that grunts, groans, farts, spits-up, gets constipated, drools, farts again, has reflux, wakes up constantly between 4 and 6 am and overall is more of…..

a boy, I guess.

And he’s my sweet boy.

Not long ago my father-in-law took off this toupee.

And now 3 month-old Harlowe seems to be in the market for one…

As long as Dylan is willing to share some of her golden locks.

mama bird notes:

I am lucky enough to be included in the new anthology, “From the Heart: A Collection of Stories and Poems from the Front Lines of Parenting.” All proceeds from the sale of the book will be donated to children’s charities.  This money will help children get the medical care that they need and help find cures for devastating diseases.

I was recently a featured author. You can purchase the book by clicking over to the Write for Charity site.

On another note, thank you to By Word of Mouth for the blog award. I’m so honored!

I have this big plastic cup by my bed that I refill with water constantly because I get super thirsty when I nurse the twins every 15 minutes. Or every two hours depending on how you calculate the passage of time.

So Dylan and Summer were recently playing upstairs and shouted down to me, “Can we use the cup by your bed because Summer has the hiccups?”

I immediately envisioned her trying to drink backwards out of the cup and spilling the water everywhere. Since I was holding a twin and trying to eat a bowl of cereal at the time, I decided I could handle any potential water damage.

“Yes, you can use it. But please don’t spill water all over the place,” I yelled back up to them.

I never thought about Summer’s hiccups again.

Or the cup.

Until that evening when I was putting them to bed.

“We filled your cup with water from the toilet,” proclaimed Dylan.

“What?” I said. “You put water from the toilet bowl in my cup!!!?! That’s disgusting. You NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER take water from the toilet bowl. You could get very sick. Oh my gosh -  I drank from that cup all day.”

“Well, I washed it,” Dylan explained.

Somehow I didn’t feel better.

“I appreciate that but it just doesn’t matter. You can’t do that. I’m so grossed out. And wait – does this mean Summer drank from the toilet to get rid of her hiccups?”

“Yes. But it was Dylan’s idea,” Summer explained. I think Summer would be an excellent candidate for “Project Runway” with her ability to sacrifice team unity Gretchen-style in an effort to save herself.

“Oh Summer. Please don’t ever do that again. You could get so sick. Girls – I can’t talk about this anymore. I’m nauseous just thinking about this.”

Lesson learned way too late: Important to clarify to children that toilet bowl water is not suitable for drinking. I’m telling my 3 month-old twins right now so there is no confusion.

So I never did abandon my four children and go to Paris.

I heard it’s terribly hot there in August anyway.

And who needs a fresh croissant oozing with melted chocolate? Never mind.

Here in New York, I may be turning an ever so slight corner. No, the twins aren’t sleeping through the night. (By the way, “Are they sleeping through the night?” has won The Most Asked Question in the month of August – narrowly beating out “Are those babies twins?”) I still only get three or four or five hour stretches of sleep but there are little moments where everything clicks.

Like I actually figured out how to take a walk with all four of my kids. Well, Tracey thought of it and she, sensing my desperation, was nice enough to share.

I put one twin in the stroller, along with my walk phobic 3 year-old Summer. Then I put the other twin in the Bjorn and Dylan rides on her scooter.

Photo Courtesy of Dylan

It took about three hours to get out of the house that day but dammit, we took a walk.

I’ve also been making myself nuts with all this breast feeding because I literally nurse the twins, barely say hello to Dylan and Summer, maybe get a snack, pee if I’m lucky and it’s time to feed them again.

So a mother ever-so-gently suggested that maybe I substitute formula for one of my feedings. Wait – I don’t have to be chained to my Titanic size nursing pillow? It was liberating. So I’m now nursing just a tiny bit less and it’s making all the difference. It actually allows me to get out and do more things because I don’t have to be nursing ALL THE TIME.

And we found a new babysitter who seems fantastic. It’s only day four but she seems like the kind of gal you would totally leave your four kids with if you ever, you know, headed to Paris on an emergency croissant assignment.

I’ve started to feel a little calmer – like maybe this baby-go-round could be manageable. At some point.

So when the toilet completely overflows to the point where our entire bathroom floor is covered in toilet bowl water and I’m absolutely sure water is going to start seeping through the floor into the dining room and I’m trying to figure out how to get the plunger and resolve the situation without alerting Dylan and Summer that there is something crazy going on upstairs because their involvement will not make the situation better…

Or when almost 6 year-old Dylan has an epic size tantrum at a pizza place because she decides she wants to sit in a HIGH CHAIR for the first time in like four years and I won’t let her…

I don’t always completely lose my sanity.

And there are even moments when I can stop, breathe and truly appreciate this…

I have this relative who is absolutely lovely but not exactly fashion forward.

She has a penchant for wearing her shirt tucked in – with her skirt or pants or shorts hiked up a bit too high.

I’ve always been sensitive to the plights of the style challenged and I’ve reached out to help this relative.

But it’s never done much good.

Then the other day I asked this relative to dress Harlowe and well, you can imagine what happened.

Sorry baby.

Since I was 12 years-old, I’ve had the same favorite restaurant.

I wish I could tell you it’s a Mario Batali restaurant like Lupa or Babbo.

But it’s just this Japanese hibachi place in Connecticut called Sakura. In fact, I’m pretty hibachi obsessed. Something about the sauces and the sodium and way grown adults fling themselves all over the table trying to catch a piece of flying shrimp. There really is no superior dining experience.

Where else can you get a 3 course meal (soup, salad and tasty entree) and get in and out of there in an hour? And I like the communal dining. Sort of like a beer hall except everyone sips Kirin Lights and green tea. It’s fun to watch other people’s dining habits without actually having to speak to them.

And at least my favorite restaurant isn’t the Olive Garden (Oh you know who you are).

So Rick and I decided to take all four kids to hibachi over the weekend.

The girls got kind of whiny in the car so Rick came up with this really innovative, creative car game.

“GIRLS. STOP WHINING. JUST LOOK OUT THE WINDOW AND COUNT CARS.”

Dylan refused, saying there was way too many to count. And Summer was too busy whining to actually hear Rick.

We finally got to the restaurant and sat down. Another couple soon joined us and I can only imagine their delight at sharing a table with two babies, a 3 year-old and a 5 year-old.

Although the chef’s antics are really geared toward Dylan and Summer’s ages, Harlowe was riveted by the performance.

I wanted her to catch a shrimp in her mouth because we’d be able to tell everyone that the first food she every tried was a flying hibachi shrimp. But apparently you’re supposed to start babies on cereal or something.

On the way home, I said to Rick…

“I’m feeling a bit gassy.”

“Yes, I’m feeling somewhat gassy myself. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. But it’s a good gassy.”

“Oh definitely a good gassy.”

The kind of gassy that can only come from a satisfying hibachi dinner.

I think some of you have met my manny…

That’s my dad and he helps me with the kids four days a week.

I also have a part-time babysitter who is a teacher and is going back to school. So sadly this is her last week.  She’s a very sweet, 25 year-old who recently got married. I’m pretty sure the experience of taking care of my four children for the last few months has significantly delayed her plans to start a family.

So we are back to interviewing potential babysitters. I don’t think of these so much as interviews but rather 20 minutes of free child care. “Hi. Great to meet you. Come in. Sit down. Hold a baby. Tell us a little about yourself.”

I really liked the first girl we interviewed. But Rick wasn’t so sure.

During the interview, Dylan hurt her foot and the babysitter successfully pinpointed the culprit – picking up a small, spinning top off the ground. Yahoo! We found a good sitter. Safety is her number one concern. But then Rick noticed that she inexplicably put it back on the carpet, in the same spot with the sharp end up. Interesting move during a job interview.

Maybe she thinks we keep it in the middle of the carpet and she was just trying to be tidy and put it away?

Maybe she was nervous and didn’t realize what she was doing?

Maybe she was drunk. Although admittedly, not a great sign either.

We decided to check her references anyway. Because perhaps she would have glowing references, we’d hire her, she’d be wonderful and we’d laugh about the “spinning top” incident for years.

Except she never sent those references or followed up with us again.

Apparently, we scared her off in one interview.

mama bird notes:

8th Continent Soy Milk was one of our amazing sponsors at The Mouthy Housewives party at BlogHer 2010. And now they are having a super cool contest called Nice Job, Mom.

All you have to do is submit your less-than-perfect parent moment (in written or video form) and you can win a room makeover or a fabulous trip. How easy is that?!

For example, you can submit how you spilled cereal all over your daughter’s head when she was in the Bjorn or how you got half way to the playground and realized no one was wearing any shoes or how you attempted to pull a tick out of your son’s head only to realize it was just schmutz in his hair. Choose one of mine or come up with your own!

So head on over to Nice Job, Mom and enter. Right now. Do it right now.  Please?  I’ll make you an 8th Continent soy milk smoothie. I promise. Thank you.

1. I learned that bartenders/waitresses with big breasts get bigger tips:

My husband and I ate at a fantastic restaurant while in Margate, NJ this past weekend. We sat at the bar and our server was a very nice woman with very large breasts. And her top allowed for a lovely presentation of previously mentioned breasts. At the end of the meal, my husband paid and then I took a quick look at the credit card receipt.

Me: Why did you give her like a 27% tip?

Rick: Did I? I didn’t realize. Well, the service and food were great.

Me: I think 20% would have really sent that message. Let’s go before you give her any more of our cash. Or our car. Or our life savings.

2. I learned that it’s very hard to nurse two babies in a minivan at a rest stop on the Garden State Parkway.

Despite the size of the dream minivan, there just wasn’t ample room to nurse them both comfortably. But somehow we got it done.

This weekend, I found myself facing an entire day all alone with my four children. Rick was at work. My mom (who usually helps me) was in Memphis.

So it was just me – staring at 11 week old twins, a 3 1/2 year-old and an almost 6 year-old.

An at home movie marathon would have been the perfect choice. So instead, I decided we should go on an outing.

After a round of nursing, I put the twins in the double stroller.  Then Summer hopped in the single stroller because that girl just loathes walking.  I have no idea why. Just the action of putting one foot in front of the other has never really caught on with her. On her wedding day, I have a feeling Rick will be pushing her down the aisle in a Bugaboo.

Then Dylan and I divided up the manual labor.

I pushed the twins in one stroller.

And she pushed Summer in the other stroller.

We walked a few blocks into town and it was all going pretty well until Dylan suddenly stopped and declared, “Summer is too heavy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Now I’m a do-it-myself kind of girl but there is no way I can push a double stroller AND a single stroller. If Dylan walked off the job, I was in deep trouble.  We negotiated. And for the very reasonable price of an Italian ice, Dylan agreed to keep pushing. But she did insist, this was her last time doing this sort of thing.

I hate when the help goes all diva on me.

Later in the day, I even took my little crew to a friend’s party. The whole thing was kind of a blur but I do remember handing my babies off to anyone who would hold one for a minute, yelling at Summer for pulling on my shirt for the 400 billionth time, feeling bad about yelling at her because it’s just a stupid shirt after all, wiping the tushy of a child that was not my own and then somehow getting home to meet Rick and pack up all four kids to head to the Jersey shore.

And we did get to the shore.

It was Chase and Harlowe’s first visit and their toes never touched the sand but I think they learned there is no better place to nap than the beach.

This is my sister-in-law Kimberly holding Harlowe…

And my pensive older girls…

By Contributing Mama Jordana Bales

This week, I had the opportunity to check out Christmas in August at Rockefeller Center. My girls enjoyed the tour and posing with the Rockettes…

What? That’s not a Rockette?! I thought she was a little too quiet. Okay, here are the real Rockettes…

At lunch, I was all set to bribe the girls to eat with the reward of decorating cupcakes (courtesy of the yummy Magnolia bakery) but the chicken fingers and mini-burgers were so yummy that bribes were unnecessary.  My daughter Lila’s only complaint was no ketchup. That girl eats ketchup with a spoon.

After lunch, the show began outside in front of Rockefeller Center. Introduced by Santa Claus, the amazingly beautiful and talented Rockettes performed. At the end of their set, they called  all the children with Santa hats up to the front to be part of the “Million Kicks Across America.”

Ava just happened to have her Santa hat with her (either that or it was in the goodie bag) and joined. After Ava bounded over the police barrier and grabbed the Rockette nearest her, I realized that children had their own designated area and were not actually supposed to be part of the kick line.

But it made for an amazing photo.

Too bad that we’re Jewish or else that would be our Christmas Card.  Kelcey is definitely considering using it for her Christmas card.