Dining room table

So we got our "stimulus payment" and we have been spending like good little Americans. It's almost all gone now. We bought some much needed food, and some diapers for the babies and I think we put gas in the cars. Okay, we did get a larger dining table and chairs, which will allow the entire family to sit and eat, not just four of us. But of course, R is feeling guilty about that "impulse purchase" as he calls it and talking about returning it so we can save the money. Hmmm. I'd really like a new table. I'm tired of looking at the hand-me-down table (circa early eighties) that I inherited from an old friend and have been dragging around with me for almost twenty years. Wouldn't it be nice to join this era and have something that was almost, dare I say it, stylish? It won't go with our vintage leather couches from Goodwill, but if eclectic is in, at least we can add something modern. We'll see...

And the newly turned fifteen year old has Saturday school this weekend. I'm so proud. It's like "the Breakfast Club" in real life. A reminder of my youth. Now, if only she can get those two D's and F up to something passable. She is holding on strongly to a C-. What more could a mother want?

When the babies cry, they cry in unison. Why is that? And I get the difficult task of deciding who to comfort first. Now I've tried to hold both, but when Babygirl is screaming, there is no holding the little boy. She demands all of my attention. It is hard.

Babyboy has been spitting up like crazy, but with the medicine and the rice formula, he managed to gain some weight, which is wonderful. We are trying another medicine. The pediatrician thinks it's reflux. I know he has a hard time with the eating. He still spits up my breast milk. It's too thin I guess. Can't add rice cereal to that, unless I pump. Don't have a pump, so there it is then. Hopefully the new medicine will work better and I can continue to feed him both breast milk and formula.

The other teenager is turning eighteen this week. We made it and can have that collective sigh of relief now. Or I can let out that breath I have been holding for the last four years. She may or may not finish high school, but I guess that is her issue now. I hoped her life would go a little smoother than mine, but she wants, insists on making her own mistakes or, I'm sorry, choices. At least I won't be liable for those choices. We are going to attempt another bbq/party this weekend. I wonder how this one will turn out. The last one for the other girl was less than perfect (big fight, lots of attitude, almost called it off, uncomfortable silence with her friends) and I really wanted to get in the car and go for a long drive. Older girl maybe wants to invite the boyfriend, which I am still having issues with.

And we are moving furniture around, trying to make space for the dining table that we may or may not keep. My house looks like we just moved in. I've been trying to get rid of things, reminders of the past and a life I don't have anymore. I wonder if I should toss my cds? Music, like art used to mean so much to me. And now...I never listen to anything but the crying babies and the words of hatred that flow from my daughter's mouth.

Life sure doesn't look like I thought it would. Can I go back and do it again?

Babies and teenagers, crying for attention

Still trying to find time to write. Still trying to figure out how to balance taking care of two babies. R has been a big help with Babygirl, keeping her entertained for most of the day. He did take two weeks off from work, which was an enormous help, but now he has returned to his evening shifts and I am left with two tiny tots and one disgruntled teenager who regularly reminds me how much she hates me and how I ruined her life. This weekend we are planning a birthday BBQ for said teenager at our house. We bought her a trampoline because she decided our house wasn't cool enough to have her friends over. Now it might be okay. If I could just keep my other "twelve" children out of her way. How two babies came to equal twelve, I'm not sure, although sometimes it feels like I have twelve crying infants at hand. I'm still trying to figure out just how many teenagers will be attending this shindig. My sweet young lady merely shrugs her shoulders when asked and mumbles "It's not like I matter." I'd say she matters a great deal. I'd like to think she knows that, but I guess I have to settle with the little sweet nothings like "I hate you."

And Babyboy is crying again. Didn't I just feed him? Since I haven't yet mastered the fine art of breastfeeding and typing one-handed, I'd better get to it.