Monday, June 26, 2006

Can I get a witness?

I know you've heard them all. And many of you can nod your head in agreement and say, "Mmm-hmm, girlfriend." But maybe there are those of you who haven't experienced them. Maybe this blog is for you. So you don't call me when you or your wife is expecting to ask, "What the?" These are just some of the ups and downs of pregnancy, people. Let's start with the plusses.

1. It does wonders for the "girls." (If you have to ask who the girls are, then you are either too young or have too much testosterone to be reading this blog.)

2. The eating. Oh, the eating. I eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and ain't nobody goin' to tell me to stop because Momma's gots to eat! (At least that's what I like to say if somebody dares to raise an eyebrow.)

3. The excuses. I like to use my pregnancy as a trump card to get out of everything: working, running, cooking, cleaning, getting out of bed, being nice... "Mommy, can I have one of your crackers with Easy Cheese?" "I'm sorry, honey, but those ten are for the twins, and those two are for me. I just can't spare any." It's cruel, and yet legitimate. Or, "Mommy, I don't want to go to bed!" "Oh but you have to, because Mommy is making babies and Mommy needs her rest right NOW." (Even if Mommy's emergency rest consists of watching TV for two hours.)

4. The crazies. A crazy is someone who says something crazy without thinking first. They make me laugh, and they come out of the woodwork when you're pregnant. For example, the other day at Motherhood Maternity, I told one such crazy at the cash register that I was having twins and she replied, "Wow, you are BRAVE!" I immediately heard Ron Burgundy in my head saying, "That doesn't make any sense." Like I made some sort of choice to be in this predicament? Or like I have a choice about the outcome? "Oh, you know what? I'm actually sort of a coward, because I almost went to the baby store and took one back but I forgot my receipt that day. But now I do feel brave, because I'm going to keep and raise the both of 'em!" Gotta love the crazies!

5. Pregnancy dreams. Woo-boy, they are wierd! And entertaining! I can't expound because I never remember them, but trust me on this one.

And now for the not-so-fun parts:

1. The caboose. I heard a song on "So You Think You Can Dance" the other night called "Too Much Booty" and I felt sure that the Mother Ship was calling me home. I find myself hearing Black-Eyed Peas and waxing philisophical. "What AM I going to do with all that junk, all that junk, in my trunk?" Good thing I'm married to Sir Mix-a-Lot Smith. (Again, if you have to ask, you're too young or too pure.)

2. My tiny little bladder. This is the great irony of pregnancy. You are supposed to fit like 5 gallons of water a day into what has conceivably shrunk to the size of a pea. Come on! Which leads to number 3...

3. I can't sleep. That is why I am writing this blog at 3:30 in the morning. I get up to pee yet again and return to my bed to find that Mr. Sandman has hightailed out of there, without even leaving a note. Which leads to number 4...

4. I'm tired. Some days, I swear I wake up and take a shower and the act of standing in the shower is more than I can bear, so I have to lie down afterwards. This may sound like a big fat #3 from the plus side, but I'm telling you, it is the truth!

5. I can't really think of one, which reminds me that pregnancy makes you more dumb. I don't know if you are giving what's left of your brain cells to someone else, but I just can't think of stuff sometimes. So please don't give me any math problems. Or ask me where the car keys are. Or ask me my kids' names. It's just...exhausting.

Friday, June 23, 2006


Call me a sentimental pregnant woman, but my dad wrote this poem about his mom, who passed away on February 3, 2003. She was one of my best friends, and a true inspiration to me. I spent the afternoon with my grandfather the other day, and he played me "Bluebird of Happiness," which was their song, and so of course I've been thinking of her. (He also gave me a beautiful, illustrated Complete Works of William Shakespeare, because I'm his "Shakespeare girl." I love you, Grandpa--you are the most gracious.)


(A poem dedicated to my dearest mother, Colleen Keeler Jones)

A clear and sunny springtime morn’; it’s nineteen fifty-one,
Your firstborn son takes his first breath; life’s journey has begun.
You must have been so happy, you must have been so scared,
You must have been a lot of things, but for me, you were there.

I don’t recall the first few years, the bumps and spills I took,
But I know all about it ‘cause I read it in your book.
You sang to me and held me close and smoothed my tousled hair.
My tear-filled eyes gazed up at you and knew that you were there.

I know how hard it must have been to leave your mountain home,
And move your family here and there and oft’ times all alone.
You made each move in love and faith and humble fervent prayer,
And wrapped your heart around each child and always, you were there.

It must have been so bitter sweet to help your oldest son,
Endure the tough and trying years; your work was never done.
I fought so hard to make the grade without much grace or flair.
You understood, I prayed you would, I hoped that you’d be there.

I wanted so to be someone, to make a mark someday.
You built me up and calmed me down and smiled my fears away.
So many nights you waited late so I’d come home to share
An earful of my hopes and dreams; I knew that you’d be there.

You nurtured and prepared me to make a love launched quest,
To islands halfway ‘round the world, to teach and grow and bless.
Your tireless, earnest patience and your faithfulness so rare,
Traversed the boundless oceans and I felt your spirit there.

And when I came back home to you, transformed from boy to man,
Your radiant, joyous, proud-eyed smile was waiting once again.
Because you stood and showed the way, my future path was clear.
I forged ahead in faith formed steps and found your footprints there.

You cheered me through my triumphs, and then in my darkest days,
You held my hand and dried my tears and loved my pain away.
And though at times my inner grief seemed more than I could bear,
You somehow sensed just how I felt, I’d call and you’d be there.

And once I’d finally found my timeless love, my sweetest soul,
You met us in a hallowed place; I knew your heart was full.
I knew it for I saw your shining eyes, your joyful tear.
I knew how much it meant to you that all of us were there.

So, little girl from little town who hoped her life to be
Somebody who the world would love and laud and want to see,
Somebody rich who lived a life as big as any star,
So when she’d walk down any street you’d see a star right there.

Yet, all who knew you loved you and will ever praise your name.
Your celebrated love endures beyond mere earthly fame.
Each grandchild as a precious gem adorns your crown so fair.
Each holds within, your priceless love; each heart can feel you there.

I often marvel as I lay and think of you at night
How gracious was our Father’s love to bless me with your light.
Of all Our Father’s spirits you became my mother dear.
And though now I don’t remember it, I know that we were there.

With patience we were waiting there on preexistent shores,
The time when we could all go down and pass through earthly doors.
You left, but soon I followed you with heavenly knowledge sure,
That I would soon be born to you and know that you were there.

From that day forth until the day I stood there by your bed,
And held your hand and quietly spoke some words we’d left unsaid,
And watched you smile through final pains, I knew you were aware
That I was yours and you were mine; we shared sweets moments there.

I wept and watched and asked our Heavenly Father for His will
Regarding you my life-long friend who lived and loved so well.
He touched my soul; I felt at peace, no doubting nor despair.
I felt our Father reach for you; you knew that He’d be there.

And once you’d finally gone with Him I sensed your pure delight
As you renewed eternal ties with loved ones dressed in white.
I wanted to be with you then to share that grand affair.
Oh, what a sweet rejoicing as they welcomed you back there.

And so, my sweet somebody, shining now resplendent star,
I can feel your light and love, and long to go there where you are.
And I know you’re watching o’er me and I know how much you care,
And I know when I come home again, as always you’ll be there.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Famous last words

I have to laugh at my last post about motherhood and all that. I feel like the guy in the movie who utters that rousing speech only to go get slaughtered in battle. You see, I've had a major development in my life in the past week. Last Tuesday, I went to the doctor to check up on what I was hoping was a healthy 9 week-old person inside of me. When the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat and suggested we do an ultrasound to make sure everything was ok, I was pretty nervous and not too optimistic. As he was prepping me for the ultrasound, the doctor asked me if I wanted a boy or a girl. A bit distracted, I think I just muttered, "Yeah, one of those..." I was not at all expecting the doctor to then say, "Whoa...maybe you'll have one of each!" I sort of half-laughed at him until he said, "No, really, I'm not kidding." I still tried to disprove him with a lame "My husband's sister is pregnant with twins..." to which he quickly responded, "Well, your husband's wife is pregnant with twins!" He was just not going to allow me to remain a second longer in that lovely place I like to visit called Denial. I won't go into any more details about that doctor's appointment, but just believe me when I tell you it was the Twilight Zone in there. When I stepped out into the sunlight again, blinking my eyes, I knew then that I knew absolutely nothing about motherhood. Or anything, for that matter.

The reactions have been great. There have beens screams, silence, laughter, and my personal favorite: tears. My neighbor actually started to cry and hugged me. And not so much tears of joy. I sort of patted her and said, "There, there, it's ok. I haven't even cried yet!" Lots of people have felt the need to tell me their second-hand twin horror stories, although I can't imagine why they would think I might want to hear those gems before, say, twenty years from now. A lady in my mom's ward did come up to me to put in her two cents: "Don't listen to what anyone says--twins are a blast!" Finally, a person I wanted to listen to! Unfortunately, I had to question her credibility as a sane person shortly thereafter when she added that her twins came at the end of her nine children!

My co-improviser told me to let him know when we could do a big farewell show for me and I thought, "Wow, it's like I'm dying!" But maybe I sort of am. Maybe the part of me that loves sleep, good food, good TV, friends, shopping, travelling, performing, laughing, will just sort of have to take a backseat for a couple of years. Although my grandpa did say, "Well, at least you have the sense of humor for this!" I, on the other hand, am sort of wishing that I had been somewhere else when the silly sense was handed out, because I'm starting to believe that with your sense of humor, they also secretly slipped you a disease, or a dysfunctional family, or twins... Why couldn't I have then hopped into the patience line? No doubt it was far too long.

So yeah, I'm feeling immensely overwhelmed. However, I'm staying true to my life mantra and taking it all a day at a time. At present, I am rather enjoying the opportunity to consume enormous amounts of food in restaurants while strangers stare. I'm also feeling extremely grateful for the most supportive family and friends out there. I love you all! (And please still love me back even after I drop Ethan and Mila at your house for the hundredth time!)

(P.S. Speaking of Mila, if you did happen to read my latest post on motherhood, are you as shocked as I am that my daughter must be some sort of prophetess, in that she predicted that I would weigh 399 lbs. and know a lot about babies? I have no doubt they will both come true!)