Organized chaos

We spent half our evening searching. No, not for a house buyer. No, not for a missing child's sock. No, not for our minds, though all of these thing happen regularly around here.

We spent it digging deep into our storage room for a lost journal.

It all started earlier in the evening when I stumbled upon a bottle of wine I had been searching for, waiting for for more than two years. Maybe even three.

When I saw it, I rushed to the register to buy it. The price of $18 didn't bother me even though I knew it was too much. Everything is too much for us these days.

But, it wasn't about price or even the wine inside.

It was about memories. Dear memories that bring us back to Chatham, Massachusetts on Cape Cod ... to a place, a restaurant, that despite countless searches we do not remember the name of. The one next to the infamous Marion's Pie Shop. The one that sparkles in our memories from that wonderful trip that started with friends in Boston.

For some reason our vacation journal ends abruptly, unfinished. So that chocolate cake and whatever we oohed and ahhed over at dinner is all lost in our dusty memories from those days -- those days before we became parents.

But, the wine. That we remember. We rushed to the nearest liquor store and bought a bottle. We kept buying it until ... until they stopped producing it due to some technicality in the wine business.

None of that matters.

We weren't searching all night for any of this. All of this, in fact, led us to a more desperate search.

Our honeymoon journal.

Those are memories we most certainly want to cling to.

And, yet.

And, yet ... they are missing and fading and my God we must find that journal.

Still, I'm thankful that bottle of wine popped up on the shelf in front of my eyes. I'm thankful those memories -- all of them -- came rushing back.

It was a good night.



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When exhaustion strikes

It's amazing the amount of stuff -- and I mean stuff -- one man and one woman can accumulate both apart and together. It's amazing that BC (before children) most of that said stuff seems so freaking important that it builds and builds upon itself and the next thing you know your attic is, well, adult build-a-blocks just waiting to collapse.

The interesting part of marrying later in life is having so many single years to build up junk equity. Da! and I have plenty, plenty, plenty of junk equity. So much so that we made several attempts before J and L arrived to clear out the junk, to make room for the good stuff. Twins, nonetheless, would bring on lots of good stuff. We rummaged, we scattered, we dumped, we stored, we groaned, and we even bickered a little about what should stay and what should go.

"You're not throwing anything out," I'd tell him.

"Yes, I am," he would say, pointing to a bag of garbage.

How did we get here?

I know exactly how. Our parents and my grandmother -- yes, Barbie, you -- give us all the stuff they don't want. And, then, on top of it, as writers, we have books beyond books, paper mountains crowned by pitiful browning stacks upon stacks of old newspapers with our names published some where inside. Somewhere.

This means, dear friends, we had to have a yard sale. Have you had a yard sale lately? A real yard sale? Goodness it is a lot of work. After 4.5 hours of selling --this after 5 hours of hauling, setting up and breaking down -- I was utterly exhausted. Every muscle ached, every bone cracked, and I was just weary.

So weary that I fell asleep before 8 p.m., slept on the couch for two hours, only to crawl up the stairs and into bed for another 8 hours.

The good news is that I feel rested today. I've already spotted at least five things we should have put in the sale and emptied three boxes of papers that just gotta go.

And, we hardly put a dent in it.

The great thing is that I have a clear mind for what can stay and what must go now that I have children. Let's call it Baby Goggles. If said item isn't for them or by them, doesn't hold any value for us as a family or for us as individuals, it must go.

Probably 90 percent of it, when I look at it now, means nothing. What means everything is sleeping in two cribs in the room below me right now.

So this couple walks into a bar ...

That couple would not be us.

Nor would we be walking into a restaurant, a theater or anywhere else for that matter -- unless french fries can be served and half-chewed ones can be properly thrown on the floor and there are AT LEAST two spare high chairs, people.

No. Dates are out of the question for us. We can't walk down the street with our twins without people asking, "Twins?!!"

To leave them behind, with a sitter, costs money. Money we do not have. Well, if we have it, it goes to useless things like diapers and food and gas to drive from Point A to Point B. And, my least favorite items to pay for like Saran Wrap and freezer bags.

Would we like to go on a date, just for dating's sake? Hell, yes.

Can we? Hell, no. Not unless we win ParentBlogger's latest and greatest blog blast. The site has teamed up with E-Harmony Marriage offering a $100 American Express Gift Card to spend on a dinner date with your spouse/partner and, the most exciting part, $100 to pay the babysitter.

And, guess what, you can enter, too. Go ahead. Try and make your dateless life sound more pitiful than ours. I'll just bring up that our wedding anniversary was spent wiping butts and chasing toddlers all day and night.

The contest asks us to finish this sentence: “You know you need a date with your husband/partner when ... your idea of romance is getting all wet and soapy while washing sippy cups and children's plates while trying NOT to fall asleep standing up.

In a flash, it was found!

Dear girls,

When I tell you that your father has had one disability in our marriage, I'm referring to his inability to sometimes find the obvious things for which he's searching. You know, like something in the refrigerator that might require the shifting of one or two items in order to see it. It's been a long running joke for us.

So, last Friday night, after my bickering began because I was so upset I lost one of my brand new earrings, you can imagine my hesitation when The Da! asked me if he should go search for it.

If he has trouble finding the salad dressing under the bright light of the fridge, how in the world would he find something the size of his pinkie nail in a rocky, woodsy, hilly park at dusk? It would be challenging.

But, he was up for it, and I felt we needed to do something. I had looked at our pictures of the day and saw that pictures at the park proved the earring had already fallen out.

To the park he went. The sun was setting over the river. He arrived shortly before the gates would close, and all park keepers would head home.

He walked straight to the picnic table where we ate that day's lunch -- you know the one you sat on top of, but refused all of the foods we brought for you? That's the one.

At just about 8 p.m., he called me. I was here at the computer, preparing for the bad news.

"I found it," he cheered. I immediately sensed the pride in his voice. As if finding that little earring -- part of my anniversary gift -- makes up for all of his, "I can't find its."

And, in many ways, it did.

For a while, at least.

In a flash, it was gone

I'm not terribly big on sentimentality. I don't dwell on the fact that Unromance seems to attach its big ugly head to each and every wall in a house raising up twin girls.

Yet, yesterday, when I received my very first jeweled gift from The Da!, I was singing inside.

The day started off on a proper high note that a fourth wedding anniversary can offer -- after all we are still newlyweds, according to our widowed neighbors. Snuggling, kisses, easy conversation, extra long smiles -- and, gifts -- set the tone for the day.

In two very special boxes, I found sparkling silver earrings and a beautiful necklace. I wasn't even sure if the holes in my ears would accept such nonsense since it had been that long since they saw light of day. And, my neck, it felt glorious draped in something other than, nothing.

With the new bling to decorate myself with, I felt inspired. I had a special meeting at a local college regarding a class proposal. I had to get dressed in something other than cargo pants and a T-shirt. Still donning a nice new haircut, I put makeup on, the jewelry and even painted my toe nails for the first time in months.

The new old me was starting to shine through. Memories of the life I led before all of my day's work took place on these three floors of this 1800s home or just around its perimeter began to seep out of the pores of my skin. Maybe I found myself. Perhaps I was never lost.

J & L were mesmerized by the jewelry hanging from my ears, my neck, the silver buckle on my high heels, the perfect pink of my toes. I was instantly a bedazzled toy of which they couldn't get enough.

I nailed the interview. Enjoyed feeling grown up again. And felt as confident about myself on the outside as I usually do on the inside.

Later that morning, I changed my clothes and we took a picnic to a local park over looking the river that exactly four years prior heard our whispers of vows before a small crowd of 70. Just like that perfect day, there was an overcast, but unlike that day, rain wasn't an option, not even a blip on the forecast. You girls, loved the big rocks and tree stumps that knocked you to the ground. You toddled fast back and forth along the paths, giggling at each step.

We later placed you in the very spot where our altar stood, and took pictures. You wouldn't keep still, and quickly lept down the hill, toward the horses, out of the picture.

And, I was elated.

That day, four years ago, was so incredibly perfect. I remember smiling for two weeks as our love swept us across the oceans to Grand Cayman for a blissful 10 days.

And, yesterday, was one for the books as well.

At least until last evening, when I snuck in the bathroom for a quick peek at the mess I'd become over the course of the day to see just how much I would scare neighbors during an evening walk.

That's when I realized one of those precious new earrings -- the very things that started this day off right -- was missing. Gone.

Rarely have I felt more empty inside than that very moment.

Happy Anniversary!

Yes, girls, today your father and I will celebrate our fourth anniversary. It will not be anything fancy. Money is tight around here since we became a one-income family. Perhaps you sense the tension. I know we try to keep it light, and simple.

Today will be just another day, but more like a Saturday because the Da! has taken some days off of work. It's nice having him around to play with isn't it?

It's hard to believe that four years ago we were standing in front of that beautiful, flowing river saying our vows. It was the best day of my life up to that point.

Da! you couldn't be a better friend, father or husband. I'm a lucky, lucky girl. I'm looking forward to spending some quality time with you today, and the rest of the weekend.

I heart New Orleans

Dear girls,

Five years ago this week, your father and I became engaged. It's hard to believe it's been that long. Yet, it explains so many things about our comfort level around each other. I won't bore you with any of those details.

There isn't much of a story involved of our engagement. We went to New Orleans for Jazz Fest, held the last weekend in April and the first weekend in May. I see the lineup for this year's Fest and I have to say that I'm utterly crushed to miss it.

We were supposed to meet friends, but they didn't attend after all. On one of the nights, we were about to eat dinner in a very nice restaurant when your father asked me to marry him. I hardly remember what I ate or how it tasted. It was all a blur. I wasn't even sure if he was serious at first.

For a few days, it didn't feel real because we didn't have a ring. And, for some reason, I needed a ring -- nothing fancy, of course -- to help me realize the truth of the matter: that I was going to get married. Finally! Finally. But, all those finallies are another post for another day. In fact, I'm sure we'll have lots of chats about the times leading up to when I finally met your dad.

Anyway, while in New Orleans, which was devastated in August 2005 by Hurricane Katrina, we did a lot of the touristy things to do. Ultimately, food led our every thought. I was amazed that you could drink in the streets. I don't mean just water in sippy cups, either.

Since the devastation, I've checked up on some of our favorite spots and most are doing OK. Check out these links and if you go to New Orleans, please pay them a visit.

Bayona -- The Spot. The place that started it all. This was five years ago, so not sure how the food tastes now.

Michaul's -- which was apparently where all the older crowd hung out. Still, lots of fun, if you don't get out much. Definitely worth booking for a family party.

The Voodoo Museum. Enough said.

Riding a street car through the Garden District. Southern Charm. Breeze in your wickely ruined hair thanks to all the humidity. Perfect.

Cafe Au Lait and beignets.

I'm sorry that we haven't been able to return. I'm sorry that we haven't been able to help with the cleanup. Being a mom has put so many things on the backburner.

But, I hope this post reaches far and wide and reminds people of the hundreds who died during the flooding of New Orleans, of many businesses and homes that were ruined and the families that were torn apart and changed forever.

Please remember New Orleans.

Thank you, dear husband, for making a great American city a part of our history five fabulous years ago.