A Fungus Among Us

My mom has been telling me for many years that having children would be really good for me. Not because she recognized some gaping hole in my heart that needed to be filled with progenic love, but because I have a germ complex. (And, I use that terminology as a blanket statement over any bacterium, viruses, fungi, spores, and all other mysterious nano-beings.)

I will pat myself on the back and say I am MUCH better about my complex than I was 4 years ago. I was that college kid who purchased the most lethal product available at Walmart to remove all germs (and varnish) from my dorm room furniture, walls and windows before moving anything in. I was that newlywed who moved into her sweetheart's bachelor pad and held a secret bleach fest when her husband left for work the first day. I was that housekeeper who went through 4 cleaning stages (pre-cleanse, scrub, sanitize, rinse) for all household surfaces, turning chores into an all day event.

When did I start the recovery process? When I went all granola, as some of my skeptical friends say, a few years ago. Not to get into too much detail, because this is a topic for my other blog (which has been in the works for years), but nature has plenty of all-natural cleansers with peer-reviewed, scientifically proven effectiveness, that are good for me and the environment. Then I started working with adolescents, touchy-feely teenagers, and I need not say more if you read my post regarding my overexposure to them. Finally, I can bear witness to at least 8 well-adjusted and healthy babies/toddlers who eat dirt at the strawberry patch, share pacifiers with strangers, chew on dog toys, and swab the floor of public places. I guess Mom was right. Being a mom will force me to get over many of my OCD germ impulses.

Case in point, our little friend, Jesse (pictured above) who came over for playtime this week. Luke (and Lucy) noticed Jesse playing with Lucy's favorite ball (much to Lucy's chagrin) and told me to snatch it from him... only to be told by Jesse's mom that she had given it to him to chew on. HA. These are the people I need to surround myself with. I can feel the healing.

There are a few places I will not compromise, however. (1) I have to wash my hands every time I come in the house. (2) I will continue to use my toes to open the dishwasher after handling raw meat/eggs, even if I'm certain my hands did not touch anything nasty. (3) I cannot allow even dirty dishes to touch the bottom of the kitchen sink. I know you've seen the shows that show it to be even dirtier than your toilet bowl. Ew. (4) I will abide by the Hawaiian way of leaving your "slippas" at the door. (There are probably a few more...)

Sisterhood of the Traveling Maternity Clothes

If you haven't heard, I have this great group of girlfriends. We call ourselves the BOS. The eight of us forged our friendship in Hawaii, isolated from our families and friends, left by our husbands for 15 months of deployment and many more months of training. I can not-so-humbly, but honestly, tell you that we are some of the coolest people on the planet. The bond I have to them is not something I can describe to you, and if you haven't ever walked in our shoes, you wouldn't be able to fathom it anyway.

One of the many perks of being a BOS member is shared assets. When my friends all started getting prego, I was kind of bummed because I'm usually the first to do things. (First-born syndrome - turns out most of the rest of the BOS are first-borns too.) Now I realize that I've totally hit the jackpot. There are maternity clothes that have been passed down and around, and now they are starting to filter into my closet. Also in this collection are an abundance of baby books, videos and other baby items.

I'm particularly interested in how many girls we can get pictures of in the "Pickles & Ice Cream" t-shirt. Some people might need to get prego again so this can be accomplished. I'm also willing to ship the shirt to Korea, if necessary. ;)

Week 17!

It was a big week for the Babies Anderson. You probably can't tell, but I feel like I literally grew every day. Or maybe that was just all of the fruit snacks and salty foods I consumed this week. Or maybe its because I have 3 babies in there instead of 2. (No, I'm kidding, but I did have a dream last night that the docs found a third at my next ultrasound.) In all seriousness, I'm pretty sure I willed myself to stay small until my Spinning certification course was done.

Let's see. This week I outgrew the waist of my normal size jeans. I do have 1 larger pair left from college that I couldn't part with because (1) they're Lucky brand and (2) Luke bought them for me. This week I also discovered that I can no longer bend over from the couch to pick things up off the floor. The kids just get in the way. According to Luke's studies, they are around the size of avocados.

You might notice in the pics that I'm standing in front of some lovely roses. I weeded all of the flower beds yesterday and wanted to show off some of the beauty out there. You also might notice that I'm sporting some new bangs. I got a great hair cut this week (to my collarbone) by a hilarious Asian woman. (I heart Asians - she told me my hair was oily, limp, needed to be glazed and that my eyebrows were "whoa" in reference to how dark they are). Unfortunately, I was not pleased with how I styled it this morning, so you will have to wait to see it revealed.

Alexis v. Bug(s)

My mom was my designated bug killer throughout my childhood. For a price, she came to the rescue no matter how small the insect. My bro and I knew that if mom killed a bug, she was going to either chase us with the departed in a tissue, or, at the very least, quickly thrust it in our general direction and yell "RAAAAH!" It got us every time, even though we anticipated it. At the time, it was well worth the price considering how horrified I was of creepy-crawlers.

In retrospect, I would take Michigan bugs any day (except perhaps June bugs - ew). When I married Luke, he took me to some exotic locations, like Alabama (haha) and Hawaii, where the bugs grow very large... And then he'd leave me! For a day, or a month, or a year or more! I had to overcome my bug-paralysis quickly. No matter how fearful I am of killing insects, I'm even more afraid of them living in my home and sneaking up on me... dirty little Bs.

When we were first married and moved to Alabama, I did battle with giant cockroaches that would wiggle their legs for days after death. (I know this because I waited a few days until multiple bodies had accumulated before figuring out my disposal method.) And then there were the long creepy wormy things that wore a tough black exoskeleton. They would rear up and actually appear to attack me like a cobra. These could not be squashed, but had to be picked up and tossed into the toilet before they could crawl up my transport device and surely kill me!

By the time we moved to Hawaii, I was okay with the cockroaches... I knew how to destroy them. Enter cane spiders and giant centipedes. Our first home there was on a converted sugar cane field. These cane spiders were the hairiest, fastest, largest, most odious creatures (second only to those camel spiders you find in the desert). They would creep into your car at night, and you would have to cancel your day because there was no way you were going to drive knowing one was in there (or, worse, you'd discover it in the middle of Oahu traffic). Or, when you were walking your dog at night you would see this thing jumping off of the bus shelter toward your dog. The giant centipedes were 6 inches of nastiness in themselves, and had a fierce bite. The only time I ever saw one in our home was the night Luke deployed. When I was just falling asleep, I felt something crawl cross my chin. Yes, you can say a curse word now... I did. And then I grabbed a pair of sandals and tossed that thing all the way from my bedroom into the bathroom toilet (and then I washed my sheets at 1am).

More recently, I was watching my friend's 3 year old daughter. She spotted a spider in the living room and asked me to please take care of it so she would not be afraid. I asked her if her mommy normally took the bug outside or put it in the trash can. To my dismay, she said "outside". Pause. Shield your eyes, little one, I'm going to end the life of this creepy crawly. She didn't seem too affected by my murderous deed, and actually thanked me repeatedly for "taking care of the spider". (Her communication skills rival that of my 7th grade students.)

My point in sharing all of this with you is not just to offer you entertainment, but to publicly acknowledge that I am soon to be the designated bug killer of my family. I have not yet decided the price for my service, though.

Stork Parking

Oh, how I covet thee.

Not only are you the only parking within reasonable proximity to the commissary, but you would significantly cut down the time required for me to carry my grocery goods in the Alabama heat and humidity.

Unfortunately, I would feel like a very conspicuous poser parking there right now. I might feel compelled to shout that I'm knocked up in all 4 directions, or display my sonograms in the lower left hand corner of my windshield, or wave a pregnancy test or something to prove that I'm legit.

Even when I wasn't prego, I'd be checking out who was taking advantage of those money parking spots on post. And I know I wasn't the only one passing judgment on the chick who was probably 2 weeks pregnant jumping out of her car in her heels and skinny jeans, leaving no spot for the mom with her 2 toddlers and huge belly.

For now, I will continue to walk across the double fire lane, a row of cement barriers, and a 2 lane street separating the commissary from the rest of the parking.

(Luke did meet me there after class today to carry Lucy's dog food - sweet guy - and he said I would probably be able to take advantage of the parking within the next few weeks! I'll be sure to wear a super tight shirt.)

Gushing With Joy

As Luke and I were winding down today, I had the urge to open the front door. Lo and behold, there it was, transported directly from the angels of... Iowa: a package jammed with boxes of Gushers. Forty-six individual servings in all, to be savored so slowly.

See, I get these food ideas in my head. They aren't exactly cravings, because they don't necessarily have to be satisfied. They are more of fixations. Gushers are in the company of a short list of other food fixations I have: OJ, macaroni and cheese, chocolate milk, soft pretzels, Pizza Hut hand-tossed pizza, orange soda.

I've never had Gushers before, but for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about them. They just sounded very satisfying. Fortunately, I have a major hook-up. My BIL (brother-in-law) is a team leader for the fruit division of General Mills. He and my sister came through in a major way... all for the sake of the nutrition of these babies, of course.

(By the way, Fruity, I'm giving you a new nickname more appropriate of your station: Bill. It may take the form of Billy, Uncle Bill, Billy Boy or Billy Bob depending on my mood.)

Spinning

That's right. I'm so legit. The power has been invested in me by Madd Dogg Athletics (the parent company of Spinning) to kick some booty in the cycling world.

This past Saturday I spent almost 10 hours being humbled by a Spinning Master Trainer. Hence, the glamorous way I wore exhaustion in my Week 16 pics. I hope to be able to share my passion for the sport, work off the pregnancy pounds, and make some cash a few hours a week (doing something I would do anyway) once the kiddos make their entrance.

It all began almost 10 years ago when I started punishing myself in the gym. No pain, no gain, 4 to 6 times a week ever since. Then 3 years ago I started going to cycling classes with one of my dearest friends, Sway. Almost every week we've taken up to 3 classes together. At first, we were all about the punishment, and the closer we were to dead when it was done, the better. I fell in love with the sport because I could compete with myself, perfecting my form, perfecting my stroke, sprinting faster, standing longer.

Then about a year ago I got a heart rate monitor. It totally rocked my world. I realized I was working out inefficiently. The more I learned about energy zones, the more I re-evaluated my approach to working out. People don't realize how little you have to push yourself to stay in your ideal zone for fat-burning. As a testament to this, I worked out only in my ideal zone for 3 months this past summer, dropping 10 lbs of fat and putting on 5 lbs of muscle (thanks to my trainer friend who has really fantastic equipment to measure this sort of thing). In that time I learned to "listen" to my body. I know what fat-burning feels like. I know what aerobic and anaerobic activity feels like. I know how to breathe to drop my heart rate so I can push harder (or, I've become a more efficient heat exchanger, for my engineering friends).

When we moved to Alabama, Sway and I jumped ship to Spinning classes (versus cycling) and our worlds were rocked. It is truly a scientific approach to training your body. It confirmed that our previous cycling instructors were WAY off the deep-end, and for a numbers girl like me, it affirmed all of the research I'd started to do. For the second time, our instructors suggested we should become certified to teach, so here we are. Plus, Sway and I are just really good at it, and it feels good to be good at something.

In summary: (1) You should be Spinning. (2) You need a heart rate monitor. (3) My bum is killing me. (4) When Sway and I must part ways this summer, it will be the end of an era. Love you, Sway.

Week 16!

In honor of my judgmental readers, I changed out of my Sunday garb into a tank that would more accurately display the belly. You'll also note I look pretty darn tired... more on that tomorrow.

In celebration of 4 months, Baby B decided to make his presence known today several times. The sensation reminded me of a kid blowing bubbles in his milk or using a very miniature speed bag to take out his aggression. A couple of times I was able to push in on the right side of my stomach and feel his jab-hook combos. Baby A remains tucked pretty deep behind Baby B, so I'm interested to know if I'll ever feel her.

{ As a side note, my use of "his" and "her" is completely random. I hate the slash thing required to be politically correct. I'm also sticking it to my professor of Engineering Ethics (a man) who was very much a feminist (yeah, he was married). We spent a semester focusing on the overuse of the masculine pronouns in technical writing. He suggested that if one were not willing to use slashes, then masculine and feminine pronouns should be used in alternating paragraphs. He also gave me my first B ever... jerk. }

So, I feel like a holy vessel today. I'm looking at Luke on his recliner, though, and thinking he won't be groveling at my feet or acting as my manslave any day soon. However, he does get major props for doing more housework and bringing me Faygo Orange Pop (very hard to find here in the South) to surprise me.

Over-Exposure to Them

I spent 2 years teaching 7th graders. I was over-exposed to little people. You cannot truly fathom the sub-culture that these humans have until you've submerged yourself in it. After awhile, you find yourself morphing and assimilating to it in a scary way, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Only recently have I started noticing signs that I might be in recovery. Maybe it is only latent, though, and a better word would be remission.

Signs that you have been over-exposed to middle schoolers:

1. You get adolescent acne. I never had that kind of acne as a teen, but now I do. I'm only just beginning to get over it. I wear the scars like battle wounds.

2. You can smell Them. No, seriously. Every pore in those little bodies is giving off toxic amounts of pheromones. When you walk into a classroom full of them, the air changes and it's hard to breathe. You can slice through the air with a knife, and at the end of the day you feel sticky. I can smell teenagers before I see them.

3. You start to use their vocab. You have to do this to stay relevant and keep their interest. I had to change gears every 10 minutes to keep everyone from slipping into pheromonal comas (see #2). It was especially effective to throw words out there like "wifey" and text slang and other mockery for shock value and a few laughs. Before you know it, you're taking those words with you to you grown up conversations. OMG.

4. You like their music. You hear it so much that you start recognizing all of the artists and the stupid dances that go along with them. In my defense, I did subject Them to socially-conscious rap during our activities, and I forced Them to write poetry about the concepts we learned (to be shared at weekly poetry readings - snap snap.) I still am struggling with this one. I confessed to a co-worker just last week that one of their songs was my "jam". So sad. (No, I'm not telling you the song.)

5. Your hair gets greasy. I'm pretty sure this is related to #2 also. I swear, my hair was shiny and balanced. Then I started working with Them and I began looking more and more like a wet sewer rat. I'm happy to report that my hair is getting thicker again and has returned to its former luster.

6. You just flat out look like one. When riots broke out at the school for a few weeks this year, I was mistaken for a 7th grader twice in a week. First, I got in trouble with security for talking on my phone. (Fortunately, I was rescued by a co-worker and allowed to continue talking to my doc.) Then the nurse refused to give me a bandage when I showed up without a pass, and I had to wait my turn to hear that. These mistakes greatly impacted my wardrobe choices from then on.

A Dilemma

Of the extraordinary time I think about being a mom, 90% of that time I'm trying to figure out how to negotiate the transport of 2 kids at a time. Really, how do you go the the grocery store with 2 infants? Where do you put the babies? If I put 2 car seats in the cart, where do I put the groceries? And what about at home? Once the kiddos are mobile, I can't very well intercept both of them heading for danger at the same time. And I can't pick up 2 at once either. I've tried. When I pick up a baby, it's a double-fist operation, and then I pick up whatever else I need. There is no second hand available to pick up a second baby. Nor can I pick up one for nap or bath time and leave the other for a few seconds. I know how fast they crawl. (I nearly lose my friend's 7 month old son every time I blink.) And, as the Army would have it, Luke will be deploying right about the time when the twins start crawling at warp speed.

I've come up with 4 solutions (and I use the term loosely), none of which I'm very keen. They all have some major cons. It's likely that once I'm knee deep in the situation I'll figure out something that has nothing to do with any of these solutions... or maybe a combo, a Gestalt approach. I'm a planner though, and a multiple-contingency planner, so I need something beforehand.

Solution #1: Alternating feeding/napping schedules. This doesn't help me with any dilemmas outside of the house, but at home one could be sleeping giving me a chance to watch/bathe/feed the other. Their paths would still cross throughout the day and maybe it would be more special, like "hey, my friend is back!" Then again, if one baby is always awake, when would I nap or bathe? And if they aren't feeding at the same time, I could be breast feeding up to 10 hours a day. Oh, that $400 breast pump is so worth it.

Solution #2: The play pen. Again, this doesn't make running errands any easier, and, prior to really thinking this through I was VERY against play pens. However, for everyone's safety, one kiddo may have to endure the play pen so I can do business with the other. I'd have to work on making it a very magical place, and get over my stance against baby confinement.

Solution #3: Strap one on. Baby-wearing. I could create a rotation schedule for errands in which one baby gets worn and one gets carried in the car seat. This might carry over to home operations as well. Unfortunately, I get hot very easily.

Solution #4: Live in help. When Luke deploys I could find some poor KSU student who will watch the kiddos for a couple hours every evening (so I can gym/bathe/shop) in return for boarding. Some of the best housemates I've had I never laid eyes on before moving in with, and I'm a pretty good reader of people. However, we are talking about my babies here.

Solution #5: Okay, I know I said 4, but this one is just a joke. Though, it's a recurring thought that makes me snicker. You know those dog harnesses that strap around canine necks and torsos? Yeah, those. If I could come up with one of those for each kid, then I could grab each one easily with one hand and it would be like a superman ride, especially if I sourced it from an elastic material. I'm pretty sure this would not be good for muscular and skeletal systems, and that I'd be reported to CPS. I still think it's funny, though.

The Results Are In!

Thanks to everyone who participated in our first poll! There is something very satisfying in seeing the bar graphs develop and percentages morph. Or... maybe that's just me.

More than half of you were being super nice and guessed that we would have one of each. I'm presuming that my 4 girlfriends with boys voted that I would have 2 boys. Everyone being honest (all 5 of you) voted for 2 girls. Come on, people! You know Luke and I are gonna get some karma kick backs for saying that option was the last on our wish list.

Karma aside, there is a wives-tale in the Army aviation community that says pilots will have girls. Why? I don't know how the story started, but my theory is jet fuel exposure. That stuff is extremely wicked and the Y-boys can't take the heat. We have 2 strikes against us because I also worked for 2 years in an open-air school just off the airfield, which was in a windless and land-locked bowl created by the mountains of Oahu. Most days it was enough to make me as giddy and dizzy as the 7th graders hopped up on their hormones (and hot Cheetos, giant pixie sticks and 2 Monsters they slammed before school). So, I'm sure that my chemistry was killing off Ys too. POW! WHAM!

We'll have to wait until May 4 to find out how accurate our predictions are. Until then, enjoy the new poll, and think very carefully about where your loyalties lie before answering. ;)

Week 15! Happy Easter, y'all!

I confess. I cheated. I wore a dress today that made me look pregnant even when I wasn't. Luke is still claiming that I do not look prego. (He just does this to get to me, right?) I'll let you decide for yourselves. Honestly, my appetite has skyrocketed this week. There may have been episodes involving a bag of jelly beans and a bag of Doritos (which I don't even really like). The babies are hungry (for Doritos)! Surely I'll be popping out soon enough.

We were invited by some friends from Hawaii to Easter dinner today at the home of one of their friends. I was really upset because they told me not to bring anything, repeatedly. So, we ventured to dinner with me thinking that we were a charity case, and everyone else was going to show up with Crockpots and casseroles.

Well, I was truly humbled. We had been invited to a true Southern mansion, where the guests numbered greater than 60, and the stick-to-your-ribs casseroles filled a giant upstairs parlor (there were no veggies here, people). Apparently, this former Crimson Tide player (now ENT) and his wife just open their home to all people all of the time. They probably knew less than a third of the people at their house. They host showers and weddings and events several times a week out of love for people. It was truly a dinner to remember. It makes you think about proportionality, and how much we "little" people could be doing out of love.

By the way, Luke and I guess that the behemoth was WELL over 10,000 sq ft, with a huge theater (complete with a stocked candy bar), diner, 2 fully stocked gourmet kitchens, unbelieveable woodwork and crystal chandeliers, a craft room that rivaled most craft stores, and a lawn that could have parked thousands. I managed a few snapshots with my phone that don't do it justice (the home actually has 2 huge wings off the back that surround the pool).

Swaddling

When we left Hawaii, we couldn't get Lucy to stop shivering in 70 degree California. As we road-tripped cross-country and the temperature gradually dropped below zero, the amplitude of her shivering increased. What were we supposed to do? No dog likes being put in clothes, right? Well, Lucy proved the exception.

She was given a hoodie and a hunting vest, and she loved those. The hoodie was warn indoors for 3 weeks straight, and was only taken off to put on the hunting vest when she went outside. Even now, every time it gets "chilly" in Alabama (below 65), we pull out the hoodie and she gets so excited and sits immediately to don her attire. It's as though she's being given the best sort of treat.

Luke's been practicing his swaddling technique for quite a while now. Once we realized how much she liked to be wrapped up, and even before we new we were pregnant, Luke was wrapping Lucy to the point of immobility in her blankets. Part of this is Lucy's love to NOT be the alpha of anything, but also just to be well-confined. She LOVES it.

I'm counting on the babies loving it too. Rumor has it, Luke may have a genetic predisposition to excellent swaddling, so we'll certainly allow Grandpa Anderson to demonstrate his mastery when he is in the same zip code. (Is anyone master of diaper changes? I guess that's me.) I can't wait to get a picture of Lucy, Baby A and Baby B together rendered immobile.

Two or One?

Eggs, that is. More on that in a moment.

Before I go further, I must declare my regard for our 8 week ultrasound technician. She was the first to reveal our doubleshot situation. Unfortunately, she did provide us with 3 pieces of less-than-accurate information. Myths which we have dispelled through our own research and talking with the doctor.

Myth #1: Luke is responsible for the twins.

Despite twins actually running in both sides of Luke's family, all of our research and resources revealed that the twins were actually my doing: hyper-ovulation, possibly linked to my long term intake of folic acid. (I also give credit to Luke's cousin, Jamie, because she mentioned the idea to me at Liz's wedding last year, and the good Lord knows that I have a very strong psycho-somatic connection. So, one point for Jamie, and one point for me.)

Myth #2: My due date should be pushed out from October 4 to October 12 based on the baby measurements.

I discussed this with my OB and he refused to change the due date until the 20 week ultrasound was done. Early ultrasounds are not accurate for predicting due dates. Besides, who are we kidding? These twinkies aren't going to be baking for 40 weeks. The average gestation for twins is 37 weeks, and the doc says we need to be ready at 34.

Myth #3: The twins are fraternal because they have separate membrane sacs.

OH HO! NOT SO according to my reading in the Mayo Clinic Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy today. This was quite a shock to me. Here's a quote: "It may be possible to determine whether twins are identical or fraternal with an ultrasound. For instance, if one is a boy and one is a girl, they're fraternal. In addition, the membranes around the fetuses may or may not suggest identical twins. Additional testing may be needed after the babies are born to determine if they're identical." (I'm pretty sure Liz may have mentioned something about this earlier. One point to her, too.)

So, the jury is out. Are these kids fraternal or identical? Two eggs or one?

Hunter & Atreyu

Zack (my little bro) has dubbed the twins Hunter and Atreyu until I tell him otherwise. You really have to be able to conjure up a mental image of him saying this to fully understand how hilarious this text declaration is (even weeks later).

This is the segue I'm using to let everyone know that we're not telling anyone what the names are. Not even the names we're considering. To be frank, I don't care what you think. :) Well, to be more accurate, I don't want to care what you think.

I've been teaching long enough that the number of names still available to me are very few. I don't need to reduce that list even further because someone has an evil cousin with the name I like, or because you lift your eyebrow in a skeptical way (even if its just a twitch), or because your tone of voice changes when I tell you about it (so I invent some awful back-story in my mind as to why you might not like the name).

I can tell you that we won't be naming our child Levi. I love this name, but apparently Levi tried to sharpen my dear husband's finger in the pencil sharpener in elementary school.

I can also tell you that Luke and I have very different ideas about what goes into a "good" name, but he has impressed me this week by broadening his horizons. (He previously only had 2 names he liked, the rest were "abominable"). I tend to like Ks. Luke tends to like Cs. I like Ys and Is, and Luke likes Es. For instance, if we wanted to name our child Karen (we don't), then Luke would want to spell it Caren, and I would want to spell it Karyn or Karin.

So, Hunter and Atreyu it is, until we meet these little kiddos.

Oh, and if you're wondering, the pic is of Atreyu from The Neverending Story. I really hate that movie. Probably because I found so many technological faults with the flying dog thing.

Personality Theory

I didn't have to take any gen. ed. courses in college. I spent all of my free credit hours taking psych courses, a couple minors worth of them. My favorite psych class was Personality Theory. Though I think most "great" pyschologists were raving crazies, collectively, there is a lot of truth to be pieced from their theories. I recognize just how much our environment impacts our actions and beings.

Luke and I have had a fun time predicting the personalities of Baby A and Baby B.

Based on the grandiose apartment Baby B is occupying, I've decided he/she will be more laid-back and expect things to come to him/her. Baby A, on the other hand, is living in cramped quarters and fighting for space, so I speculate he/she will be the scrapper and more strong-willed of the two. This suits the typical first and second born theories, since Baby A will be the first delivered (barring any Olympic kicking and flipping events that may happen in my belly).

Luke has it in his head that Baby B must be the girl and Baby A the boy, based on my theories. I'm sure this was meant to be a stab at my gender. (I know, however, that Luke is married and related to extremely stubborn and driven women, so he's just kidding.)

What do you think?

Recap: The First Ultrasound

I had my first ultrasound on March 6. No one told me I needed to have a full bladder. The head nurse kindly instructed me to drink until I was uncomfortable, then let her know. So, I slammed 100 oz. of water, thinking I would be immediately ushered back to be scanned when I was ready. But then the nice nurse went on break, and we ended up waiting over 45 uncomfortable minutes.

"Did you know you are expecting twins?"

Pin drop. WHAT??!!! Luke jumped out of his chair looking fairly flushed. I couldn't stop laughing. We all couldn't stop laughing. We were so loud that other technicians came in to see what the hullabaloo was all about.

I really expected to cry when I heard the heartbeats, but I was too shocked to do more than choke up a little. Baby A and Baby B had heart rates of 170 and 167, respectively, and they were each 27mm in length.

The best part of the day was sharing the amazing news with everyone. My mom caused a ruckus in the Kroger checkout (I forgot to do a location check with her before unveiling the news. Things may have not been paid for.) My dad couldn't stop laughing and telling me I was joking with him. My sister screamed at the bank. My brother declared he did not have a strategy in place to be an awesome uncle twice-over, while his coworkers were chanting "two babies!" in the background. One of my grandma's said "Well, Alexis, you've never done anything second rate." My other grandma told me I must have been trying really hard. And my girlfriends here, whom I met for lunch right after, were all screams and hugs.

14 Weeks!

Today I am 14 weeks. If you missed the memo, Luke and I are expecting twins in August. Or September. Or October. Or whenever Baby A and Baby B have had enough. The official 40 week mark would be October 4.

Luke decided that I look even less pregnant today than I did at 13 weeks when I first mandated he start taking weekly belly pics of me. When I look at myself in the mirror, it seems pretty obvious to me that there are babies up in my business. When I look at the pictures, I have to admit that I agree with Luke. One more point to Luke (grrr). I will let you decide for yourselves, though, when I have a link to all of my pics up and running.

I will attempt to post faithfully. This blog is likely to change drastically since I am a process engineer at heart and appreciate (need?) constant improvement. The intent of this blog is two-fold. One, to keep all of our friends and family in our loop, be it baby stuff or not. Two, to give Luke access to the kiddos during his deployments.