I was recently involved in a conversation with my sister and a friend of hers where my sister stated that “you probably do kinda wanna forget about it” after some time has passed. Forget about what? Oh, the dead babies. Well, to be fair, she didn’t mean to forget about the babies themselves, but to forget the intensity of pain and grief that followed their death. Like, wouldn’t it be unhealthy to constantly remember the intensity of that pain? Wouldn’t anyone would want to forget about and release a pain like that?


The pain is my blessing. The intensity of those feelings is a gift. To forget about the pain IS to forget about them, because those emotions are what I have that demonstrates the level of love I have for those girls. The gift of that emotion is what has enhanced my life and soul and changed me for the better. To forget what that visceral emotion feels like is, to me, a betrayal of the gift I have been given of being the mother of dead identical  twin girls.

This is not to say the pain is with me every day. Actually, at this point, over two and half years later, there are days that pass where I think of them  almost not at all. Where I don’t feel direct pain. Because this scar is part of me and I have learned to live with it. And then come days I want to pick at the scar tissue and make it bleed. There is comfort in the pain. There is growth, understanding, empathy, sincerity in the pain.

I have been thinking about this post and that conversation for a while and wanted to write about it because I think her well meaning assumption is common, but also misguided.

People get uneasy when I (or my babyloss mom friends) mention their dead babies. Or they think that we should attempt to forget about the pain. Certainly there are people that after a long time are still trapped in their grief. People that are guided and controlled by the pain, and that need help to keep from drowning in it. I am not talking about those people as I am ill-equipped to do so. I am talking about myself and my experiences.

When mothers with fresh losses first find themselves on  the support sites, others reach out to ‘welcome’ them and offer them an ear or shoulder or sounding board for their confusion and isolation and sadness. And occasionally a mom will ‘scream’ out in frustration “HOW CAN I MAKE THIS PAIN STOP?!” and there is no useful answer to offer. Because the only answer is ‘time.’ and we don’t control that.

And minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, the time passes, the weeks, months, years… and the pain, though it ebbs and flows, gets more intense and then less…. eventually it becomes manageable. We become accustomed to the crying fits which are shorter and less foreign. The understanding that the overwhelming pain will pass- though eventually return again- becomes a familiar, even comforting thought.

I love to miss my girls. Missing them makes me miss them less, because it’s a way of being closer to them.

I never know how to end these posts that just go on and on with no direct conclusion, so I will end with this quote



Easter arrived. 30 something years plus one week late.

Yesterday, I went with the girls and Elie to an Easter egg hunt at my friends house. Having grown up in an orthodox Jewish neighborhood, and going to an orthodox Jewish school my whole life, you can understand why I was well into my teens before I ever really had any good friends that were not orthodox jewish friends, or even, not Jewish friends at all. But as an adult, I get to make my own decisions and a big one for me is welcoming and appreciating and absorbing the diversity that life has to offer. And yesterday, that diversity took the form of an Easter egg hunt. I was an Easter egg hunt virgin. The closest to egg painting I’ve got is looking longingly at the egg tie-dye kits in the supermarket and wondering if they make the egg inedible.
We had a great time and it was nice to spend the day with friends and meet some new ones.





In related news, I often wonder if there is something pathological to the fact that I love to dress these girls alike.

But then my eyes remind me how stinkin cute they are and how excited Molly gets to wear the same thing as Liat and how much easier it is to get them dressed when Molly is excited to wear the same thing as Liat and then I wrap all the way back around to how stinkin cute they look and tell that annoying little voice in my head to kiss my ass.

An Ode to my Jeffrey Campbell Shoes

Perhaps you remember my blog post,
about how I had discovered the most,
Muchy shoes on a website,
that made my heart delight,
J. Campbell of my town you’re the toast.

The shoes are gold and pretty,
with platforms that are witty.
Sarcastically high,
with stripes to the sky,
Increasing my view of the city!

The box, it was too big for flats,
with a cool chic who’s shirt sported cats.
I took them out and I cried,
these are cooler than I
had envisioned from pictures and stats!

I slid my feet inside,
and nervously I tried,
to tell myself
they fit so well.
But the truth is that I lied.

They kinda pinched my toes,
and that ankle strap, who knows?
I worry that it’s not secure,
and running for the  bus I’m sure,
my foot will twist,
I’ll lose my cool,
I’ll hit the ground,
feel like a fool.

If I’m going to return them,
I can’t test them out outside,
to see if on the pavement,
I’d fall upon on my hide.

I wonder if it’s a mistake
to keep these shoes–
but they look so great!

I also bought these others,
and they were much less pricey,
but it’s not the same,
though they’re far from lame,
they’re also much less dicey.

And so…

My question, dear reader, Do you think I should keep,
these shoes though they aren’t great friends with my feet?
You know how I love a Jeffrey Campbell shoe,
They make me feel fierce, I don’t know what to do!
Will I ever get used to the height of these stems,
As I did with these others, My makeover gems?

I’m not much of a poet,
just been reading Seuss,
to my daughter who certainly
loves all my shoes!

Let me hear what you think,
I look forward to know,
If in fact I should keep them,
Or if they must go.

To you, they are tacky pants. To me, they’re hypnotic happy light makers

I’m sure after this post some people are going to wonder if I’ve gone off the deep end. I wore my gold Sequin Pants today. (What. you DON’t own gold sequin pants? Here‘s an easy fix for that problem.) I love how the light chases me in these pants. Seriously, I’m like a 7 year old, but this never gets old.

On the dreary morning bus ride:

On the sidewalks:

On the lawn:

Walking in my front door:

It’s completely Muchtastic! But here’s the best part. I made a self-hyponosis video for you to watch. It’s called “Sequin Pants In The Tunnel. (All rights reserved. Ha!)

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Thanks for Sharing! (or not… as the case may be…)

I started a blog when I was pregnant with the twins. It started as an idea to document the pregnancy and maybe earn a little cash cuz, ya know, we were planning to have twins. That monetizing part of the plan never quite got off the ground, cuz when we started seeing early warning signs of TTTS, the blog became a place for me to go and just vent or talk or update about our many doctor appointments, my fears, my feelings… whatever.

After they died I stopped writing there very often but I wrote A LOT on the babyloss forums online where I felt heard and understood and like I could release some of my crazy-making feelings. Over time, the writing became part of my ‘processing process’. It helped me organize and understand my emotions and feelings and to create actionable plans to help me work through them.

Now I am writing here. On this blog. About all sorts of random Muchness. And I try to do it really honestly. Because otherwise, what’s the point? As I wrote a few weeks ago, the past few months have been challenging at work. And the fact that I have not felt ‘safe’ to blog about it here has really messed up my processing process. All my crazy-making thoughts are starting to make me feel just a wee-bit crazy.

So I’ve decided to blog about stuff that I need to get off my chest. Privately. Meaning, when I want to talk about something that is not in my best interest to share on the site, I will password protect the post. If you are a person I can safely share the post with, contact me to request the password. If I work with you, don’t ask. Just be taunted by my secrecy. 🙂

Muchy Shoe Makeover!!! (and a bunch of other ramblings….)

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you can’t help but notice the overwhelming amount of neon people are wearing these days. In my head, there is but one association I have with neon…. Please…. Join me on my trip down memory lane….

It’s 1989.

I’m in 8th grade.

This could be the back of my head:

My bedroom walls are plastered with pictures of the New Kids on The Block.  I told everyone Joey was my favorite because he’s the sweet one.  But secretly, I liked Donnie more, because he’s the bad boy.

And this was my Muchness:

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That girl in the audience with the 4″ tall hair and Fluorecent Pink t-shirt with the smiley face on it…she was my Hero.

But Anyhow. Here we are 2012. Everything old is new again. Except The New Kids. They’re just old.

The nostalgia of the fluorescent trend is really exciting to me. Months back I posted about this Neon yellow bag I saw some chic carrying and how much I adored it. But wouldn’t wanna spend the money on it. And a lot of the affordable neon, well, it looks like something I may have worn in 1989.

And then. Friday, I was at Home Depot and came upon this:

My brain raced… Oh! The Muchness I could make! I don’t have to invest $300 on a trendy pair of shoes… I could get creative! I stood in the aisle for 5 whole minutes, debating between the pink and the yellow. or maybe the orange. or the pink. or the orange. pink. yellow.

I bought the yellow. And I bought Painters tape. Because I knew I’d recently used up what I had on this. Everything else for my master plan I already owed.

OK. Rambling complete.

Here’s the PROJECT!!!!


Black Patent heels from target. (I could’t justify buying these new ones until I found something to do with the ones I already own.)
Unworn lace thong panties.
Painters Tape.
White spray primer
Fluorescent Paint
Triple Glaze Spray Gloss
Rhinestones and E6000 Glue

The Process

I cleaned the shoes and then used the painters tape on the parts I didn’t want to paint:

Then I used more tape and lace to cover random parts of both shoes.

I cut shapes out the the tape. It was only after I cut out the heart for one shoe that I realized the inverse would be awesome on the other shoe. I also originally thought I’d make them match each other but then it occurred to me that if they were even a tiny bit off, it would annoy the crap outta me. So I creatively solved that problem by making it a non-issue.

After taping, I took the shoes to my basement and sprayed them white. Twice.

Then I sprayed them fluorescent. Twice.

Then I sprayed them with clear glaze. Once.

Then I brought them upstairs and while watching “The Voice” and contemplating Christina’s Funny hat, cut the tape off. I had to use the blade to slice the paint before pulling the tape. For the most party it came off slick and sharp and clean.

In other places, not so much.

I used a black sharpie to clean up any smudged edges.

I also used the sharpie to recreate areas of the lace that were too misty and unclear.

Then I sprayed the whole shoes again with clear glaze.

Then I carefully placed the rhinestones around the hearts on both shoes.

Then I stared at them because I could not get over how much I friggin’ loved them.

Then I took about 4,000 pictures in different poses.

Then I finally tore myself away from them and went to bed. It was like, 3 in the morning.

Then I wore them to work the next day. Here they are on a bike path in midtown Manhattan

Seriously, Every time I looked down I got a small buzz because I thought my feet looked so muchtastic!!

…Then one of my co-workers told me she thought they made me look cheap.
I’m pretty sure she’s just massively jealous. Right???



Drama. Never leave home without it.

I lied today. Not a big lie, but an important one.

Heres how it went down. I went to the store to get stuff for Molly’s birthday party. It’s a glorified dollar store and they have the bestest, more random stuff on earth.

I walked the aisles, browsing, photographing, texting… I filled my cart, got to the checkout, Look in my bag and my wallet is GONE! Total freak out. troll the aisles, talk to manager. Pull hair…. check the car. storm aisles…. call cousin who says to call the police. Call the police. they’re on their way. Call my neighbor who has a spare key and just in case, ask her to check the house.

Behold. My wallet was on the counter.

So I lied. I told the store my neighbor found it in the driveway. It must’ve fallen out while I was getting in the car. (Because what kind of idiot would leave the house without their wallet and then swear on all that is good and holy she had it with her when she entered the store.)

Despite my embarrassment- I just went back and bought the stuff I was gonna get for Mollys disco party. I mean- $2 for these!! Worth the mortification.

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They Flash!!!!!