Working from home is awesome, now that I've been doing it more often and have become more efficient and disciplined about it. I'm wearing sweats, I've got my snack and my cup of coffee, and I have the TV on because I felt the need for some background noise. I'm free to take work calls immediately, because I'm not out interpreting somewhere, and I have constant access to e-mail. I know that's not such a big deal to most people who work in an office, but again, usually I'm out interpreting and can't check my e-mail all day. You can miss out on jobs that way.
Obviously, it's also wonderful because I waste no time commuting and get to spend more time with the boys. It's nice having someone take care of them at home, because it means when I'm done, I can just run downstairs and my workday is over. Also, I can listen to what's going on and have a good idea of how long they napped and so on.
That's also the hardest part about working at home. Right now they're all giggles and happy shrieks, and boy, would I love to go join them. Even for just a quick break. But I can't do it. They can't even know I'm here, or the minute I try to come upstairs the laughter will turn to tears and heart wrenching wails of Maaamaaaa... So I come upstairs in the morning with my coffee and my breakfast. If I want anything from downstairs later, I wait until they're at the park, or taking a nap.
They're no dummies, though. I'm starting to suspect they know I'm here and know that I'm off-limits when I'm upstairs. The other day, as they were coming upstairs for their nap, Primo was chanting, "Mama, Mama" quite happily. When his nanny told him Mama was at work, he stopped just outside of the office door and said, "AQUI." Yeah. No dummy.
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So, not too bad for a rookie. I managed to blog 20 out of 30 days in November. Looking back, I suppose what strikes me is just how mundane my posts are. But it's a pretty accurate record of my life. Also, watching the posts build up is kind of addictive. I like my little blog. I think I'll keep it.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
The contents of my shopping basket tonight
- Two gallons of milk (The real reason I went to the store. Two gallons will last three days, max.)
- A container of plain yogurt
- A baguette
- A little box of Camembert
- A bottle of Bogle Old Vine Zin, my favorite $10 bottle of wine
So far, it's been a good night.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Awwwwww
Even before the boys were born, I had visions of them sharing a crib. Wouldn't that be sweet? I thought. Surely they would need each other and be comforted by each other's presence.
That lasted about eight weeks, or until Secondo started scooting around in his sleep and kicking Primo in the head. I can still picture the quizzical look on his face when I walked in the nursery one morning and wham, wham, wham, Secondo's feet in his little sleep sack were kicking him relentlessly.
Since Primo was our good sleeper, we just couldn't have that. P came home with a new (Craigslisted) crib when they were ten weeks old and I nearly fell and kissed his feet. It made such a huge difference--all four of us got more sleep, which was a good thing.
The other night I put the boys in the same crib while I read them their stories. Then I moved Secondo back to his own crib, and he started wailing. I tried to comfort him, and then the penny dropped and I put him back in his brother's crib. Not only did he stop wailing immediately, he started to do his trademark happy dance, which caused Primo to giggle hysterically and say, "Gagi, Gagi!"
I tried to separate them again (because I'm an idiot), and the results were exactly the same. In the end, I left them in Primo's crib. When I checked in on them a few minutes later, they both kind of raised their heads to look at me, groggy and content. After a few more minutes, they were both fast asleep. I separated them later that night, but I can hardly believe that they fell asleep together for the first time since they were ten weeks old. The feeling that came over me was just indescribable.
That lasted about eight weeks, or until Secondo started scooting around in his sleep and kicking Primo in the head. I can still picture the quizzical look on his face when I walked in the nursery one morning and wham, wham, wham, Secondo's feet in his little sleep sack were kicking him relentlessly.
Since Primo was our good sleeper, we just couldn't have that. P came home with a new (Craigslisted) crib when they were ten weeks old and I nearly fell and kissed his feet. It made such a huge difference--all four of us got more sleep, which was a good thing.
The other night I put the boys in the same crib while I read them their stories. Then I moved Secondo back to his own crib, and he started wailing. I tried to comfort him, and then the penny dropped and I put him back in his brother's crib. Not only did he stop wailing immediately, he started to do his trademark happy dance, which caused Primo to giggle hysterically and say, "Gagi, Gagi!"
I tried to separate them again (because I'm an idiot), and the results were exactly the same. In the end, I left them in Primo's crib. When I checked in on them a few minutes later, they both kind of raised their heads to look at me, groggy and content. After a few more minutes, they were both fast asleep. I separated them later that night, but I can hardly believe that they fell asleep together for the first time since they were ten weeks old. The feeling that came over me was just indescribable.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
More Thanksgiving
I saw this on another blog and loved it. It's a little late, but what the hey, I'm still feeling Thanksgiving-y.
Ten things I'm grateful for that money can't buy:
1. My wonderful husband, my two sweet boys, and the rest of my family.
2. Our health. I've seen too many people's health fail them this year, and I've cried many tears for a few of my friends and members of my family.
3. The wonderful memories I have of the loved ones I've lost.
4. My friends, both near and far. And my friends in the area are the main reason I love, love living where I do.
5. My husband's gourmet cooking. Also, the fact that he does 99.9% of the cooking.
6. The fact that I have a job I love so much I can still hardly believe I get paid to do it.
7. The sound of my boys' laughter.
8. The changing of the seasons, nice, crisp weather.
9. Afternoons at the park with the boys.
10. Phone conversations with my mom.
Ten things I'm grateful for that money can buy:
1. My shiny new MacBook. Mmmmm.
2. Our widescreen, 46-inch TV. It makes me not care that I don't go to the movies much.
3. Eggnog lattes.
4. Good wine.
5. My plane ticket to LA. I'm going to my best friend from high school's wedding next weekend.
6. Our cozy little condo. It's where my husband and the boys are, and it's home. Maybe I should put that under things money can't buy, but it's costing us a pretty penny.
7. The down comforter.
8. My desk chair, of course.
9. Books, both for me and for the boys.
10. My new work purse--I love it with a passion.
One more thing I'm grateful for: It was easier making the first list than the second.
Ten things I'm grateful for that money can't buy:
1. My wonderful husband, my two sweet boys, and the rest of my family.
2. Our health. I've seen too many people's health fail them this year, and I've cried many tears for a few of my friends and members of my family.
3. The wonderful memories I have of the loved ones I've lost.
4. My friends, both near and far. And my friends in the area are the main reason I love, love living where I do.
5. My husband's gourmet cooking. Also, the fact that he does 99.9% of the cooking.
6. The fact that I have a job I love so much I can still hardly believe I get paid to do it.
7. The sound of my boys' laughter.
8. The changing of the seasons, nice, crisp weather.
9. Afternoons at the park with the boys.
10. Phone conversations with my mom.
Ten things I'm grateful for that money can buy:
1. My shiny new MacBook. Mmmmm.
2. Our widescreen, 46-inch TV. It makes me not care that I don't go to the movies much.
3. Eggnog lattes.
4. Good wine.
5. My plane ticket to LA. I'm going to my best friend from high school's wedding next weekend.
6. Our cozy little condo. It's where my husband and the boys are, and it's home. Maybe I should put that under things money can't buy, but it's costing us a pretty penny.
7. The down comforter.
8. My desk chair, of course.
9. Books, both for me and for the boys.
10. My new work purse--I love it with a passion.
One more thing I'm grateful for: It was easier making the first list than the second.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
The highlight of my day
I was at the park today with the boys and my friend N. We were just watching the boys run around, when Primo started saying, "Gagi, Gagi, Gagi!" His name for Secondo. He just sounded like he was so happy and excited he could hardly stand it. He ran over to his brother and gave him the biggest hug.
Twins don't interact much in the beginning, and it's been fun watching them become increasingly aware of each other. Now they have a blast together, run and play together, cry unless the other is around. But that hug today, full of the purest joy, was beautiful.
Twins don't interact much in the beginning, and it's been fun watching them become increasingly aware of each other. Now they have a blast together, run and play together, cry unless the other is around. But that hug today, full of the purest joy, was beautiful.
I'd never heard that one before
Today, when I was standing in line at Starbucks with the boys in the double stroller:
Mother, to her little boy: Look, twins! There's two of them!
Little boy: Only two of them?
Keen: [Laughs hysterically.]
______________________________________
I've never really minded getting comments about the twins. Are they natural? Are they identical? Who was born first? Ooooh, double trouble! And so on and so forth. I can make my answer as long and friendly or as short and curt as I want to depending on my mood. Mostly, people are just being nice, which I'll take any day over people who are bitter or mean, and I've had a couple of those encounters, too.
Mother, to her little boy: Look, twins! There's two of them!
Little boy: Only two of them?
Keen: [Laughs hysterically.]
______________________________________
I've never really minded getting comments about the twins. Are they natural? Are they identical? Who was born first? Ooooh, double trouble! And so on and so forth. I can make my answer as long and friendly or as short and curt as I want to depending on my mood. Mostly, people are just being nice, which I'll take any day over people who are bitter or mean, and I've had a couple of those encounters, too.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Thanksgiving
When I was growing up, Thanksgiving Day meant nothing to me. We lived in Costa Rica, so it was just another Thursday. Although my brother and I were on summer vacation, my parents worked, so there was no celebrating in November. I don't really remember our Thanksgivings in the U.S. before that.
However, that's not to say that we didn't celebrate Thanksgiving. On some random day in March, my dad would randomly announce, "We're having Thanksgiving on Sunday!" Just because he felt like it. In the beginning, turkeys were not easy to come by in Costa Rica. My dad had to ask for leads about farmers who might possibly raise turkeys and would be willing to sell us one. The two of us drove all over Creation trying to find them. It was always the two of us, because I loved running errands with him. Later on, an American meat market started selling them. (Along with pastrami and corned beef.) Now you can get them at any grocery store, but in the beginning it was a challenge, which made it all the more special.
We would invite my mom's side of the family, my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, anyone who just wanted to come have a good meal and celebrate this Gringo holiday. We did it enough times that everyone started really looking forward to it, and people would ask when the next Thanksgiving would be. Sometimes we would do it twice a year, maybe more.
My dad's mother had taught my mother how to prepare a good old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner years earlier. She made everything but the turkey and the mashed potatoes. Those were my dad's domain, his Aunt Mary's family recipe. It involved adding a whole stick of butter and making them nice and fluffy with the mixer. And we would hoard cans of cranberry sauce family or friends would bring down from the U.S., until it became available in Costa Rica.
Things change. The celebration expanded to include my Costa Rican sister-in-law's family. My dad is no longer with us. It is now celebrated at my brother's house (the house we grew up in) and my mother has passed the baton to my sister-in-law, who now cooks a mean Thanksgiving dinner. I remember the day my mom pulled out all of my grandmother's old recipes and "trained" her. She was so nervous the first time, writing everything down in her little notebook, and now she's a pro. Heck, I've never been in charge of an entire Thanksgiving dinner, and I feel slightly guilty that I never took my mom up on her offer to teach me. I make some great side dishes, but they all come from those gourmet magazines and include ingredients like ginger and orange zest (though I can't stand stuffing that includes any weird ingredients, like oysters, nuts or raisins). My family, who still like their cranberry sauce straight from the can, would be appalled.
We're hosting Thanksgiving for the second time this year. No traveling, just some good friends who I can't wait to see. There will be eight of us at the table. We've decided to host Thanksgiving at home as often as we can. The Thanksgivings we've had since we moved here have been awesome, and memorable. There was our first Thanksgiving, which P and I celebrated alone in a rented apartment. The Thanksgiving we spent in the Midwest with his family. The Thanksgiving we celebrated with friends just four days before I gave birth, when I decided to have a glass of wine and someone got a great picture of me balancing my wine glass on my massive belly.
But every Thanksgiving I think about the old days, and miss them just a little. The days of celebrating Thanksgiving just because we felt like it.
However, that's not to say that we didn't celebrate Thanksgiving. On some random day in March, my dad would randomly announce, "We're having Thanksgiving on Sunday!" Just because he felt like it. In the beginning, turkeys were not easy to come by in Costa Rica. My dad had to ask for leads about farmers who might possibly raise turkeys and would be willing to sell us one. The two of us drove all over Creation trying to find them. It was always the two of us, because I loved running errands with him. Later on, an American meat market started selling them. (Along with pastrami and corned beef.) Now you can get them at any grocery store, but in the beginning it was a challenge, which made it all the more special.
We would invite my mom's side of the family, my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, anyone who just wanted to come have a good meal and celebrate this Gringo holiday. We did it enough times that everyone started really looking forward to it, and people would ask when the next Thanksgiving would be. Sometimes we would do it twice a year, maybe more.
My dad's mother had taught my mother how to prepare a good old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner years earlier. She made everything but the turkey and the mashed potatoes. Those were my dad's domain, his Aunt Mary's family recipe. It involved adding a whole stick of butter and making them nice and fluffy with the mixer. And we would hoard cans of cranberry sauce family or friends would bring down from the U.S., until it became available in Costa Rica.
Things change. The celebration expanded to include my Costa Rican sister-in-law's family. My dad is no longer with us. It is now celebrated at my brother's house (the house we grew up in) and my mother has passed the baton to my sister-in-law, who now cooks a mean Thanksgiving dinner. I remember the day my mom pulled out all of my grandmother's old recipes and "trained" her. She was so nervous the first time, writing everything down in her little notebook, and now she's a pro. Heck, I've never been in charge of an entire Thanksgiving dinner, and I feel slightly guilty that I never took my mom up on her offer to teach me. I make some great side dishes, but they all come from those gourmet magazines and include ingredients like ginger and orange zest (though I can't stand stuffing that includes any weird ingredients, like oysters, nuts or raisins). My family, who still like their cranberry sauce straight from the can, would be appalled.
We're hosting Thanksgiving for the second time this year. No traveling, just some good friends who I can't wait to see. There will be eight of us at the table. We've decided to host Thanksgiving at home as often as we can. The Thanksgivings we've had since we moved here have been awesome, and memorable. There was our first Thanksgiving, which P and I celebrated alone in a rented apartment. The Thanksgiving we spent in the Midwest with his family. The Thanksgiving we celebrated with friends just four days before I gave birth, when I decided to have a glass of wine and someone got a great picture of me balancing my wine glass on my massive belly.
But every Thanksgiving I think about the old days, and miss them just a little. The days of celebrating Thanksgiving just because we felt like it.
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