Happiness Maximus

At three months, Max is smiling, lifting up his head, and growing quickly. James and I talk often about how different he is from the twins in their infancy. Being preemies, they just developed more slowly. Max seems especially robust and intelligent. The only way I can describe how he makes me feel is that I had a Max-shaped hole in my heart, and now it's filled.

Max has outgrown his bassinet, and tonight is his first night in a crib. Oliver and Wesley want just a few more months in their cribs, so Max is borrowing his grandma's crib -- the one she and her sisters slept in. Grandma says the crib was probably already used when her mom acquired it around 1939. If it was good enough for grandma, it's good enough for Max!

Happiness is an emery board and a bag with six zippers

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important twins legislation

Twinslaw is a movement working on a state-by-state basis to preserve a parent's right to choose whether or not their twins are in a classroom together. Some states or school districts mandate separation. From what I've read, some twins thrive together and some have increased competition or behavior problems when together. Some sets of twins change over time, and need to be together or separated at different ages. Minnesota and two other states already has legislation that allows parents to determine their twins' classroom placement, but Pennsylvania (where we're moving) doesn't, but is part of the cluster of 22 states where a movement for such legislation is underway.

grandpa and his boys

My New Job

I got a job working for three brothers who own a demolition business. They haven't really explained to me what their business is all about, but all I ever see them do is demolish things. My job used to run from 7 am - 7 pm, but the bosses just brought on a third guy, Max, who works the night shift. Now I work 24 hours a day, which isn't as bad as it sounds -- all the third guy really wants is meals at random times during the nights.

During the days, my duties include the following: pay bills, process paperwork, make meals, clean, entertain on demand, and perform all desired personal hygiene duties. I need to remember which boss wants which hygiene duties or else I get yelled at. Oliver would like help brushing his teeth, whereas Wesley would like to brush his own teeth with two toothbrushes. Max doesn't have any teeth and doesn't like toothbrushes jammed down his throat. Oliver would like me to put his pants on, but only after lying on his back and playing with his pants for several minutes. Wesley would like to wear my undergarments on his head, and would not like me to remove them even when he runs into the neighbor's garage with them. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm not here to judge.

The job is OK, I guess, but I'm concerned about a few labor law violations. For example, I haven't been paid yet, and I've been working round the clock for two years. They give hugs and smiles daily, which is great, but a hug and $4 will buy you a Campfire Mocha at Caribou, if you know what I mean. Additionally, the bosses are really stingy about breaks. Yesterday, for instance, I really needed to eat breakfast. I only wanted 2-3 minutes to do so, but Wesley really got on my case. When I insisted that I had a federal right to eat a meal, he fell on his face screaming on the floor until I finished. But he did let me finish, so I guess I shouldn't complain. I had to take a bathroom break once yesterday, too. I went as quickly as I could, and left the door open so they could make sure I wasn't wasting time or stealing company toilet paper. When I got out, I found both Oliver and Wesley trying to jam keys into an electrical socket. Sort of a suicide bomber approach to conflict, I suppose.

Don't get me wrong - I'm so grateful to have a job, and I don't want to talk trash on my bosses. I'm just wondering whether other people in my line of work get respect for their basic human rights, like the need to eat and sleep, or their worker's rights, like regular breaks and humane working conditions. If not, we may need to consider unionizing. It's a very grave proposition, however. These guys will stop at nothing to exploit my labor. In just the last two years I've been hit, screamed at, had food thrown at me, and been peed on.

Mothers of the world, unite!

Yeah, but you should see the other guy

Except that "the other guy" was a slab of concrete.

We were swimming in the backyard, and Oliver repeatedly dove into the pool from a running start. (In this story, "dove" means belly-sliding, and "pool" means six inches of water in a blow-up rubber pool. "Oliver" means Oliver.) With each dive, he began his running starts from further and further away. Eventually he ran out of yard and raced onto the concrete that borders our yard. At first he didn't see the transition from grass to concrete, but then he saw it from very, very close up. Within seconds, a very naked, very wet, very screaming boy ran into my arms, bleeding from four places on his face. Minor scrapes on belly, shoulder, arm, and knee.

Within a half hour, however, he was well enough to fry himself up for dinner (see photo below).

As I post this, it's 16 hours since these photos were taken, and the abrasions don't look as bad as you might think they would.

I just wish he had dipped himself in batter first

Poem for Ian, Simon, and Gordon

When the triplets were born, this was the poem I liked at that time. Thanks, Tim, for finding it for me! It seems sad, too, like the other ones. Tim also offered some great commentary on Ascension, the one I said I didn't understand. The part I most appreciated is how the beginning of a thing is also the start of its ending, and the ending of a thing is the start of a new beginning. Encouraging words to me as I end a season of life in MN and start new elsewhere, and sad words as I see my childrens' lives begin.


Poem: "Her First Calf," by Wendell Berry

Her fate seizes her and brings her
down. She is heavy with it. It
wrings her. The great weight
is heaved out of her. It eases.
She moves into what she has become,
sure in her fate now
as a fish free in the current.
She turns to the calf who has broken
out of the womb's water and its veil.
He breathes. She licks his wet hair.
He gathers his legs under him
and rises. He stands, and his legs
wobble. After the months
of his pursuit of her, now
they meet face to face.
From the beginnings of the world
his arrival and her welcome
have been prepared. They have always
known each other.

Poem for Maxwell

This is the poem I associate with Max's birth. It's like Norris' poem in that it is biblical (and sad), but about Jesus' birth rather than his ascension. I like the phrase "each feeds the other" and say it to myself while Max nurses, and I think about what nourishment I am receiving.

Descending Theology: The Nativity

by Mary Karr

She bore no more than other women bore,
but in her belly's globe that desert night the earth's
full burden swayed.

Maybe she held it in her clasped hands as expecting women often do
or monks in prayer. Maybe at the womb's first clutch
she briefly felt that star shine
as a blade point, but uttered no curses.

Then in the stable she writhed and heard
beasts stomp in their stalls,
their tails sweeping side to side
and between contractions, her skin flinched
with the thousand animal itches that plague
a standing beast's sleep.

But in the muted womb-world wtih its glutinous liquid,
the child knew nothing
of his own fire. (No one ever does, though our names
are said to be writ down before
we come to be.) He came out a sticky grub, flailing
the load of his own limbs


and was bound in cloth, his cheek brushed
with fingertip touch
so his lolling head lurched, and the sloppy mouth
found that first fullness - her milk
spilled along his throat, while his pure being
flooded her. (Each
feeds the other.) Then he was left

in the grain bin. Some animal muzzle
against his swaddling perhaps breathed him warm
till sleep came pouring that first draught
of death, the one he'd wake from
(as we all do) screaming.