The Cute, the Bad, and the Funny

Before I launch into today’s multitude of topics, I just want to say how much I hate waiting.  For anything.  Whether it’s waiting to hear from a publisher or agent (which, by happy circumstance, I’m doing right now) or the coffee to perk or even to finish being pregnant (as I proved by having the twins five weeks early), waiting is the worst for me.  I keep asking God to give me patience – right now!  So far, he just keeps trying to work on it by constantly making me wait for stuff.  ARGH.

Now, on to other things.
The Cute:

 Both the girls together, so you can see that they’re really not that far apart, size-wise.
 Jackie – 16.2 lbs a couple of days ago
Sammie – 15.6 lbs a few days ago.
I love my twins.  They’re so blasted cute, even in the middle of the night.  I can’t get them to smile on camera though.  I’d love to catch their middle-of-the-night smiles, the big, gummy ones, that say, “I don’t want to go back to bed, so I’m going to give you a big ol’ grin in hopes that you’ll decide I’m so darned cute, you’ll let me stay up and play rather than make me go back to sleep.”
I love their big brother too.  He’s doing well in kindergarten, though he got a bad note home last Friday – running to get in line, he pushed another kid down and they hit their chin on a nearby table.  And he can read!  A little!  He actually read some full sentences last night.  It was sooooo awesome.
The Bad
My mom’s not doing well at all.  She got hospitalized a couple weeks ago (from the nursing home) and was kept in the psychiatric ward while they adjusted her meds.  Even though she’d be in the middle of her bed, she was convinced she was about to fall.  One of the elders in her church called me a couple days ago and it brought home how bad things were.  He was asking me about my preferences for like end of life stuff, to be sure my brother and I were on the same page about it.
In that same phone call, I found out my fears that my brother might do something bad to himself when Mom is finally released from her suffering (at this point, though it sounds horrible and I know it, I just want her to pass because she has no quality of life and I know all she wants is to be with Dad now.  I don’t want her to hurt any more.) are quite justified.  Apparently it took a visit from a whole bunch of the church people to keep him from doing something stupid about a month ago.  Part of me fully expects that I won’t hear about Mom’s passing from my brother, but rather from a hospital official or cop, who drops the bomb that they’re both gone.
I have no control over what he does, but I’m angry with him for making that sort of choice.  And it hurts too, that he’d rather take that way out, instead of coming out and staying with us, getting to know his nieces and nephew.
The Funny
There is a war going on in my house.  It’s the Sleep Wars: Twins vs. Mommy.  Thus far, I’ve won most of the battles.  Most, but not all.  Below is a summary of a few nights ago:
Battle 9/12-13/11
And the night gets off to a great start.  Babies wake up at 1, get fed and are back in bed/asleep within 40 minutes.  Mommy returns to a peaceful sleep.
3:30 – WAAAAAH.  Samantha awakens.  Mommy stumbles in, half asleep, to see Sammie grin that grin.  Pops the pacifier, flops her over, stumbles back toward bed with hopes of sleep.
3:32 – Before Mommy can even get IN to bed, WAAAAAAAAH.  Repeats the process.  Cursing involved.
3:34 – WAAAAAAAH.  Mommy returns, sees same adorable smile, realizes defeat may be imminent.  Tries taking baby to couch to avoid waking the angel Jacqueline.  Much squirming (Sam), grinning (Sam), and glaring (Mommy).  Mommy declares defeat and lets Sam play while she stumbles off to start the coffee maker (which was prepared at the 1a feeding) and turns on Heroes.
4:50 – Samantha drops back into sleep land on the play mat about 10 minutes before anticipated awakening of Jackie.
5:20 – Mommy realizes there might be time for a shower before the monsters awaken.
5:40 – Jackie wakes up.  Feeding commences and Sam wakes up to join in the feeding frenzy.
I love my girls, but I could have sworn the boy was sleeping through the night by this age. However, last night wasn’t too bad.  They got fed around 6:10, and didn’t wake up (and insisted on being fed – there had been a few bouts of wailing that required pacification) until 2:30.  Quite a pleasant change from the 7p, 12a, 4a feeding routine.

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