This week I took a business trip to Louisiana. Louisiana is a place I regularly travel to, and it always is interesting, amusing, and colorful. This week was no different. Upon arrival at the hotel in a small town in between New Orleans and Baton Rouge, I was being checked into my room, when I noticed the fingernails of the woman checking me in. She had at least 1 inch long nails with multiple swirls of reds, greens, blues, blacks, and silvers. Each nail was completely different. I commented that they were “really something!” and proceeded to mention that I was impressed because I would accidentally rip those things right off if it were me wearing them. Her response to me was “honey, I use ta wear MUCH longer nails than this here nails, but dang if I couldn’t wipe myself down there properly!” At this point, I was in the process of taking a swig of water from the water bottle I had with me, and I came dangerously close to spitting water all over the check-in counter at the conclusion of her statement. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not, but I tried an empathetic response of “yes, I could certainly see how that could be of concern.”
Following this, I got to my room, went to the gym, did some work, and then decided to head down the street to Outback for dinner. I sat down in a booth, placed my order, and began reading a book. At one point, I looked up just in time to witness two guys, probably in their 30s, getting up to leave the restaurant. As they were leaving, one woman abruptly shot backwards in her chair and plowed into one of the guys’ bellies with quite a bit of force. He doubled over and his buddy shouted “DUDE! She hit you right in your DONG! Your DONG, DUDE!” While I appreciated the anatomical specificity and the empathy existing between these two men, I haven’t heard a grown man use the word “dong” in public in quite some time. I once again almost spat my drink. Why I am always swallowing a drink when these things happen is beyond me.
The rest of my trip was uneventful, and I made it home in time to feed Audrey and Andrew and spend a couple of hours with them before bedtime. They will turn 8 months old this week. They are both sitting up, and Andrew is very close to crawling. Both eat solid foods now and Audrey, in particular, seems to love to try different foods. We are beginning to experiment with yogurts and mashed up foods that we eat. They are beginning to enjoy toys such as jack-in-the-box and things that give them exercise. We purchased two packs to carry them on our backs and are hoping to get out to do some trail walking soon. Audrey weighs in at 14 pounds and Andrew 20 pounds. So, I’ll take Audrey, thank you very much! Both are laughing, giggling, interacting with other, and just generally fun to be around.
Dave and I are getting increasingly good at getting the kids out of the house and taking them places. Wherever we go, we get a lot of attention from almost everyone that is around. Everyone wants to ask about whether they are twins, how close together they were born, why one is so much bigger than the other, and on and on. And then, almost without fail, the person says “wow, twins must be SO HARD!” I typically respond with a cheery “it’s a lot of fun!” To which, the person usually looks at me as if I might be mentally insane. And, maybe I am mentally insane, but honestly, SO WHAT if it is hard? That is irrelevant. If you look back through the past 35 years of my life, you will see that when there has been an option called HARD and an option called EASY, I ran right smack dab towards the one named HARD, enthusiastically leaped on, grabbed the horns, and hung on for the ride. Call it pride or masochism, or some combination, but I LOVE a good challenge. Having twins suits me just fine.
I believe that doing things that are hard will reveal to you who you really are. You will learn about your ability to persevere, to face difficulties, to fail, to get back up and try again anyway, to problem solve, to be flexible, grounded, and strong. I believe that truly hard work is good for us all. I believe that the choice to have children is a beautiful one, and once you choose it, you are choosing some really hard work in your life. That’s a good thing. It’s good for you. A colleague of mine has an email signature that I particularly like. It says this: “Labor Omnia Vincit–Hard Work Conquers All”. This motto is part of the state seal of Oklahoma, which is the state he lives in.
I believe that the people who speak to us in public are really just trying to be empathetic of what they perceive as my struggle and I appreciate the connection they are trying to make. I appreciate the kindness. I don’t get sensitive, offended, or upset by this. I just quietly realize in my head that I see things differently than they do. I see the hard work as a blessing. It is all just part of a beautiful relationship that is unfolding between the members of my family, testing us, challenging us, making us better and stronger people. I enjoy the tasks and challenges, as they are completed with and for love, and for the most important relationships and people in my life. Even in the very hardest moments, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Here are some recent pics:
