Today the muppets had their four-month check-up. I can’t believe it either. (Technically, they have another week before they’re actually four months, but it’s close enough to ooh and aww.)

I arrived shortly after Jon and the boys – just in time for the fun stuff. The muppets slope on the official pediatric growth chart is practically vertical. They’re even almost on the chart! Destroy is only a pound below the first percentile for weight.

So without further ado, <drum roll please> the official weigh-in comes in at:

Search
9 lbs, 2 oz
20.25 inches
15 inch head circumference

Destroy
10 lbs, 8 oz
20 inches
14.75 inch head circumference

Search’s got his brother beat on height/length and head circumference. But he still looks tiny next to Destroy. Destroy continues to live up to his nickname – Pudge.

In a much less exciting turn of events, following the statistical recording of vital signs, we rolled over to the pediatric injection clinic. The muppets were due for their next round of vaccinations. We waited in the small lobby area, watching four toddlers play – obviously unaware of what they were in for.

When it was the muppets turn, Search went first. He sat on Jon’s lap in the cramped exam room. The nurse didn’t waste any time – I guess it’s like ripping off the band-aid. Search got the first of three shots in his leg. It took him by surprise. His eyes widened in a brief moment of silence. Then he let out a heartbreaking wail. His little face turned cherry red as tears streamed down his pouting chipmunk cheeks. Even Jon and I had to turn away for the second two shots.

I got to hold Destroy. Now, to be fair, Destroy has a lot more padding on his tubby little thighs. Of course Destroy screamed as well. But his screams were far less panicked. Rather, he merely sounded hungry.

And the difference in those screams explains the reason for the large discrepancy in weight. At first, I thought it was just easier to identify the various needs expressed by Search’s distinct cries; perhaps Destroy was a bit more nuanced. Nope. I’m pretty sure they really are all hunger cries.

With his fondness for food and generally hungry demeanor, I’ve come to the conclusion that Destroy feels all that ails the world can be solved with a snack. Crisis in the Middle East? Sit them down for a glass of warm milk and a cuddle. Problem solved.

I thought I’d go ahead and share the update – since I know you’re all dying to find out what happened next.

We did not get a payment for October. We did get a notice of overpayment. Today. For the checks I returned (in person) on Sept. 2. For the time they did not spend in the NICU during the aforementioned latter month.

Jon called to let them know we already made time in our muppet-filled hectic lives to give them their overpayed money back. We even shared the receipt numbers., to which the very nice (not sarcastic) social security lady shared were “pending” in their system. (Tangent – Jon was holding Search during this call. Apparently his multiple muppet noises continuously triggered the voice activation in the phone tree so Jon had to repeatedly endure “I’m sorry, I did not understand.”)

Verdict? Since I returned the checks (My name is on them as the guardian. Yes, even though Jon is equally guarding.), they requested that I call back on Monday to find out if they’ve processed the checks they shouldn’t have printed in the first place. I wonder what additional hoops we’ll get to jump through if they haven’t been processed. (I’ll update this post after the auspicious Monday phone call.)

The epitome of inefficiency.

Work has picked up at a raid pace. Projects seem to be multiplying while I sleep and my calendar is filled with meetings as proof.

It’s nice to keep busy. It would be unpleasant if I sat around bored. I think my job is busy because of the constant planning and development of company announcements and events. But imagine the task of supervising discovery of the entire world. Everything is new and fascinating to the muppets. So Jon has a LOT of meetings.

Working Lunch

The 3 p.m. meeting

Project Manager Destroy

Product Manager Search

Last night I promised you more photos.

Remember the family photo shoot I told you about in August? The full collection has arrived!

These photos are amazing memories for our family. You can peruse them for entertainment or to procure your very own muppet memento.

Step 1: Navigate to the website www.kearydeephotography.com
Step 2: Click “enter” on the left side of the boots photo
Step 3: Click “proofing” – located on the bottom of the screen closest to the right
Step 4: Enter “stream” as the password (all lowercase)

Watch the slideshow and enjoy!

Just a quick reminder for anyone searching out a photographer in California or Seattle – Keary Dee is incredible at capturing the simplicity in our everyday lives. I give her the first ever Double Trouble Gold Star.

Cutest. Muppets. Ever.

Week 1 of Daddy Day Care is complete, with the concluding thought that taking care of one child cannot be that difficult.

Jon works weekends. So it has long been our plan that Daddy Day Care will be in session during the workweek and I’ll step up on the weekends. I was amazed at how many people expressed such concern over this plan.

“Are you worried about Jon?” I was asked. Of course not, I explained. Jon’s always wanted to be a father – and he, like me, is tremendously excited that the muppets are home. “No no,” they clarified. “Are you worried about him being home alone taking care of the boys?”

I was confused. Why would I be concerned? “Well, you’re Mom,” they explained. Yes. And Jon is Dad. “Well, Dad’s don’t adjust as well to taking care of the little ones as well as Mom’s.”

Luckily, we were unaware of this. And Jon is, in fact, a tremendous father – including taking care of muppets.

Daddy Day Care kicks off around 5 a.m. Dad takes over the end of the early morning feeding and sends me back to dreamland. I’m up early and off to work, so those last precious few hours are incredibly necessary. The three enjoy breakfast together when they wake up again in the morning and then Dad tries to squeeze a couple more hours of naptime out of the night.

Once the day has truly kicked off, my boys spend a lot of time in the living room – that’s where their playpen, bouncy chairs and swing live. Allegedly, the muppets take some naps during the day as well. I’ve inquired whether Jon ever naps along with them, but no – SuperDad has things to accomplish during these brief quiet times.

To maintain sanity, the boys set off on excursions around the neighborhood and beyond. Much as I enjoy my summer evening strolls, Jon finds relaxation in hour-long explorations of the parks. He does it to get outside, breathe fresh air, and to let the muppets fall soundly asleep to the steady vibrating rhythms of the rolling stroller.

Alas, Jon notes, “Apparently a dad pushing twins is the equivalent of a circus freak. I got little kids tapping their mom on the arm and pointing at me. I feel I should be selling ad space on the side of my stroller.” The lookie-loos are probably wondering where the children’s absentee mother is and feeling woefully sorry for the poor man stuck with his own two babies.

By the time I get home, the boys have eaten their first dinner and are ready to lie back and cuddle until bedtime. (Although, out of concern for what I’m missing, Dad often lets me handle the dinner diaper change.)

So all you dads out there – get over yourself. You probably won’t break the baby. And moms – don’t assume you need to shoulder everything. Dad may surprise you.

In any case, I’m sure many of you are wondering why there are now two posts in a row without photos. Daddy Day Care is thus far a rousing success. But that doesn’t mean Mom or Dad has the energy to run after the camera. More photos will come soon.

So as Week 1 officially comes to a close, I bid you sweet dreams. Goodnight moon.

Today was my first day back in the office. (I went back to work on Friday, but wasn’t yet physically present.)

Part of me felt guilty – not just because I was leaving the muppets behind for the day, but because I was excited to be back. (Please don’t let that make me a bad mom. I just like what I do.)

As I said before, of course I wish I had more time with the muppets at home. And as I headed back toward corporate America to continue sorting through 3,000 emails (this is not an exaggeration), it seemed fate also wanted me to have more time. Or fate at least wanted to drive home the point that I shouldn’t be too happy to be back.

I popped out of bed bright and early – ready to tackle my new roll as a working mom. Well, in reality, I clumsily rolled out of bed to soothe the screaming children who felt they were being cruelly starved to death and really needed their parents to HURRY UP AND FEED THEM. But I digress…

I haven’t worn work clothes in four months and 12 days. It’s been even longer since I wore heels. This adjustment combined with my new larger (and significantly higher vehicle) made for a very interesting attempt at coolly sliding into my car. Instead, I teetered out into the morning air – balancing my computer bag, notebooks, the pump and my purse – and made several futile efforts to launch myself into the SUV without flashing the entire neighborhood. I finally scootched myself up and over just enough to ensconce myself in the car without ripping my skirt.

Crisis averted. And off I went, oh so pleased with myself that I’d remembered to get gas yesterday.

I arrived at the office gate feeling perky and professional. I haven’t had any coffee in 10 months so I wasn’t dragging from the lack thereof. I surveyed the vast array of parking spaces still available and swiped my card across the card reader thingy.

BeepBeepBeep.

And the gate remained firmly shut.

I repeated this process a minimum of five times, all the while reminding myself of Albert Einstein’s quote that “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Finally, I gave up and pushed the button to ask security for help. Sadly, security informed me I was now a corporate risk so they couldn’t let me in.

I did work Friday, so I was relatively certain I was still employed. I was also completely certain I was blocking a line of cars trying to get into the parking lot. So I peered out my window and shouted to the man with the bemused expression in the car behind me.

“My badge is broken and security won’t let me in,” I explained to the general downtown area. Ever so contentious of security concerns, the man in the car behind me got out of his car, walked up to the gate and magically opened the gate with his working badge.

I parked and bee-lined for the head security office so no one would escort my rouge, badgeless presence from the campus. Turns out the badge automatically turns itself off after a period of non-usage. Security took about five seconds to reactivate me.

Crisis averted. And off I went, oh so pleased with myself that I remembered where my cube was.

I strolled up to my cube and set my multitude of packages down. Then I noticed things were not as I’d left them. My plants were still there. But they were dead. And I mean dead dead. In reality, my plants were gone; I had pots of dirt. Power cords, phone headsets and monitor cables were nowhere to be seen. My cube had been pilfered! (Not that this surprised me. At my last job, my monitor was claimed by a colleague before my departing self had even cleared the door.)

I wandered back downstairs until I found the technology department and secured replacements for the necessary cables. At this point I realized what fate had really been trying to tell me.

“Tricia, your workplace has coffee bars. Utilize this perk.”

Amazingly enough, the rest of the day flew by. I’m back in the groove. And when I got home this evening, the muppets were even cuter than when I left them this morning.

Little Sheriff

In July 2009, I traveled up to Portland, Ore., to celebrate the baby shower of my college roommate. After the shower we braved the wiles of Babies R Us to pick up some last minute staples. My roommate was very pregnant at the time, so I was sent scurrying around the multitude of baby “necessities” to retrieve the required items.

In the chaos that is a children’s store, nothing is where logic dictates you’d likely find it. So in one of my many criss-crosses across the store, I passed a collection of sheriff and outlaw little boys clothes. My girlfriend was having a little girl, so I merely smiled in admiration to myself and returned to my quest for side-snap onesies. (Surprisingly, these are not found with the rest of the clothes.)

In August 2009, our friend’s little monkey had his first birthday. I’ve long felt that overalls are adorable on little boys. So I decided to chance my luck back in the baby warehouse. The sheriff and outlaw collection was still displayed. I was tickled blue (these were for a boy after all) to find a pair of 12-month overalls with an “outlaw” cowdog riding a horse on the back. Success! When I circled the rack, I saw the Little Sheriff onesie with the deputy cowdog smiling back at me.

I wasn’t pregnant. The muppets were nothing more than a dim glimmer – not even a twinkle – in our eyes. But I was in love with the outfit. I rationalized that if we had a girl, I could put cute a brown corduroy skirt with it. I bought the onesie – size 0-3 months. I brought it home, folded it up and put it away in the back of my closet.

The day we got the call saying our pregnancy test was positive I took the outfit out to stare at it. It was so tiny. Jon laughed, saying, “Our baby is never going to fit in that!”

I took the Little Sheriff out again the day we found out the muppets were boys. Since my arfing spells had drastically decreased by week 16, I used my newfound free time to daydream about what my little sheriffs would be like in the first outfit I’d ever bought for them.

Diaper

Three months later, we had very very tiny muppets. When they were born, they were too small for clothes; they only wore a diaper. Size 0-3 months was going to be a long time coming.

Preemie

We got excited when we dressed them in their first preemie outfit. We rejoiced when they were big enough for newborn clothes.

Newborn

One month ago today, on Aug. 6, 2010, little Destroy came home. During this past month, he has demonstrated his love for food. And today, at a hefty 10 pounds, Destroy debuted the Little Sheriff onesie.

The month has gone by quickly. We’re definitely more comfortable with the boys and they’re certainly becoming more like “typical” babies. Destroy has completely outgrown newborn size and is now only wearing the long awaited 0-3 months size. Search is not far behind – his rapidly growing tummy can no longer accommodate newborn size pants.

Watch out world – we’ve got a new sheriff in town.

Size 0-3 Months

It may be September, but it’s still officially summer. And after a record cool season, the days have gotten warm. Even Mother Nature is happy the muppets are finally home!

With two quickly growing babies at home, it’s easy to find yourself suffering from cabin fever. And with the recent heat wave, it’s not quite comfortable to take the babes out during the day. The intersection of these two events has led me to discover the most relaxing excursion: an evening summer stroll.

Search

Destroy

By around 6 p.m., the temperature has dropped to about 75 degrees. There is a light breeze – leading to a pleasant combination of sun and shade trade offs. Our city is blessed with oodles of parks (39, many of them within walking distance). And we are lucky enough to live on a tree-lined street. It is the perfect setting for a Leave It To Beaver episode.

Suburbia

Fall leaves are not yet littering the ground. Houses built in the fifties stare back at our empty, calm and quiet neighborhood streets. Green trees stand watch, forming a canopy over the neighborhood. Occasionally shadows over their secretly showing skeletons give the evening an eerie feel. I keep waiting to see Disney’s Haunted Mansion ghosts come leaping out of the trees; sadly, no grim grinning ghosts ever come out to socialize. It’s easy to imagine what the neighborhood must have been like in its 1950s heyday.

Each day our little family heads out in a different direction. Today, I asked Jon where we should go – wondering if there was a direction we had yet to follow or a park still unvisited. He just shrugged, “Does it really matter where we go? Let’s just wander.” Part of the reason these walks are so wonderful is precisely because there is no ultimate destination.

We take our super-sized sport utility stroller and load up the muppets. The excursion gives Jon and me some much-needed fresh air. Search and Destroy will be sleeping soundly within three minutes of setting out – no matter how fussy or cranky they were previously. And the exercise reinvigorates two very sleep deprived parents.

On several occasions, we’ve wandered through the grounds of local schools. Jon shared where his classrooms were when he was a kid and it’s easy to realize how quickly the muppets are growing up. (Destroy is a ginourmous 10 pounds now – five times his birth weight!)

The summer of 2010 was not an easy one for us. But these summer evening strolls are my storybook moments. We’re a happy, healthy and finally together family.

And then we get home and life resumes. And life filled with cuddly muppets after a fresh air nap is good.

Social Security is a circus.

This fact was confirmed for me this afternoon. I returned to speak with Social Security for the third time. As I was waiting for my number to be called so I could give them their money back (yes, you read that correctly), I reflected on why this giant government program is in so much trouble.

It is my opinion that the bigger an enterprise gets, the less efficient it becomes. And Social Security may be the biggest of them all. I always thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this treasured government nugget until I was much older. Every so often, I get the little pamphlet telling me that I’d make approximately $7 a month if I retired now; I file them and go on with my life.

Then the muppets arrived. This was my first clue that this experience wouldn’t be simple.

Because they were born under 1,300 grams, they qualified for disability payments. If I may go off on a tangent for a moment – 1,300 grams is a totally random designation. Per their policy, a baby born at 2 pounds 13 ounces is disabled, while a baby weighing in at 2 pounds 14 ounces is just dandy. Reality check – babies of either size are going to spend a significant amount of time in the NICU.

Most babies arrive in a hospital and have their social security number the next day. Not my muppets. Because of their disability (born at 970 and 1,005 grams respectively), they were entitled to $201 per month to supplement their lost income. What income most newborns typically rake in, I do not know. We had to go down to our local Social Security office and meet with a representative to set up payments before they would assign the boys Social Security numbers. And not having a Social Security number is generally frowned upon – especially later in life (when they do actually have income).

We were told we would not receive any money for the first month. This is so Social Security can verify that the children remain disabled. Here’s a thought – if a baby is born premature, chances are they will remain prematurely born. They would receive a check each month (except the first) that they spent even a single day in the NICU.

However:

We were asked to call immediately when the boys come home so no overpayment occurred. Both boys were home by August 9. I alerted Social Security on August 10. On August 15, we received two additional checks. On August 17, we received letters saying we’d be receiving two additional checks. Nothing mentioned why we were getting this. I better call and clarify, I thought to myself.

Nope. This plan of action require there to be a working phone number for the local Social Security office. There is not. Down to the government office went I to wait in line. (Really it’s take a number and sit in a chair, but go with me here.) No one was really able to explain to me what these additional checks were for. But once we got everyone along the same general line of thought, they assured me everything was taken care of. But wait. Even though we gave notice about homecoming at the beginning of the month and went in to personally speak with representatives in the middle of the month, this was not enough time to halt the checks sent out for the month of September.

Our Social Security contact warned us about this. “Happens all the time. You’ll just want to save those checks and bring them back.” Well isn’t that just the picture of efficiency. Print the checks, pay for the postage, send out the money and then ask people to make time to bring it back to you. Let’s try that in reverse and see how well that works out…

That is how I found myself sitting in the Social Security office again this afternoon. I’d returned the checks and was sitting in a chair waiting for the window staffer to find someone authorized to print a receipt for me. (I felt it was well worth the extra time to stay firmly put until I had proof of receipt that I’d returned the checks.)

When I was initially called to the window, I explained the situation and presented the checks. The staffer asked me why I was returning money. I let her know that the boys were premature and had spent time living in the NICU. She asked if the boys had been in the hospital; when I answered affirmatively she said they were entitled to the money. I again explained that they were home now. She instead asked how old they were. After several circles like this, she accepted the checks and went in search of someone who could print a receipt.

Allegedly, everything is now clarified and straightened out. I give it 50/50 odds that the boys receive a check for October.

At 6 p.m. on April 20, I headed out of the office. I stopped by my boss’ desk to say goodnight and reminded her that I had a doctor’s appointment the following morning. I’d be in by 10 a.m. I assured her. And without a second thought, I moved on to a much more pertinent topic – asking her if we could quickly chat about the newspaper exclusive I’d secured that day. Business as usual.

Four months and 12 days later, I’m returning to the office for the first time after that fateful checkup with the doctor. It went a little longer than planned… Twenty pounds lighter and two kids heavier, tomorrow is my last day of maternity leave.

Hard at work...

It’s been quite the adventure. Most typical new mommys take just about the same length of leave as me. But I’d venture to guess that those mommys also spend approximately four months and 12 days bonding with their newborn. I will have spent 24 days home together with the muppets. (And I used to be shocked that my mom went back to work only two months after I greeted the world.)

My maternity leave breakdown is as follows:

• 37 days on bedrest hoping to stay pregnant
• 26 days hospitalized
• 7 days panicking as we endured the preemie “honeymoon”
• 30 days adjusting to life with babies in intensive care
• 73 days spending 4-6 hours a day in the NICU
• 24 days home with my muppets

82 percent of the aforementioned leave spent worried and without them. (Well, 100 percent of the time worried about the boys, but 82 percent so worried about how to get them home healthy.)

Originally, I wanted to work from home while I was bedridden. But my team of doctors said, “No.” They claimed work was too stressful. Right – because a job I liked was the part of this ordeal that was going to stress me out…

...and play.

Am I looking forward to going back to work? That’s a tough question. After so much time away, yes – I am very ready to go back. But I do wish I had more time with the boys. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t need more time, because I’d have spent all of my time bonding with my term newborn sons. C’est la vie.

For those of you calculating – yes, I am starting back up on a Friday.  I plan to spend some time reminding my team who I am and the vast majority of the day sorting through the thousands of emails awaiting my return. (This is not an exaggeration.)

I’ll miss them during the day. But I doubt they’ll miss me. 1) They’re newborns. 2) The lucky little muppets will be living the high life with Daddy Day Care.