My twin sons are eight months old and I just used a knife to spread peanut butter on pieces of dark chocolate. I ate four pieces -- I'm talking about the king size Hershey's dark chocolate bar so these pieces ain't petite. Am I proud of myself? Not particularly but god almighty I may be losing my mind. No it's not because of the snack I just ate, which I saw a woman eat on an episode of "Cooking Yourself Thin." Of course she ate crap like that but still looked better than me. My body resembles a balloon filled with cottage cheese -- it's not that bad but don't women love to self-hate.
Anyway, I believe I'm losing it because I often don't know what month it is, let alone day. It feels like I'm running a never-ending marathon, racing towards what? A finish line? What's the finish line? I try to fit in things I enjoy or housework in between naps but I find it often leaves me exhausted and, honestly, I don't know what I enjoy anymore.
Sigh.
Day-in-day-out activities are hard enough but then something is thrown into the mix. During the boys midday nap yesterday I took the free time to cook hamburgers -- all you busy moms out there, cook bulk meat ahead of time and you have your protein for many meals in advance! Anyway, turns out the tinfoil I used had a tear because, before I knew it, I noticed smoke. I went into the kitchen and it was foggy. The smoke alarm went off and, of course, woke the boys from their nap. Can I never win? Then that night, when getting their bedroom ready before sleepytime (closing blinds, turning on sound machine), I noticed a bunch of flies hanging out on one of their windows. Seriously disgusting. Long story short, I think someone left the sliding glass door open downstairs and a bunch of flies got in and threw a party at the window getting the most sunlight.
I can't make this stuff up.My husband comes home from work looking like a GQ model and I look like something that crawled out of a sewer. Well, that's a little dramatic but girl I don't look good with my Walmart pajama pants, my tank top from .... well I don't know when or where this was purchased, my greasy glasses and equally greasy hair. I know this is a blip on the radar and I'll probably look back and laugh but I don't have a life, I don't have a identity. I feel like I'm not a person with thoughts, feelings and worth but a slave who must obey and never rest. I'm not allowed to feel because I still have to take care of my kids, whether I'm depressed or not. I must be selfless because they are itty bitty babies who need me.
Sorry for the pessimism but motherhood isn't always fabulous. However, my boys will be nine months old in eight days. Baby A is sitting up and yelling "Baa baa baa" often and Baby B has six teeth (Baby A has two) and is pulling himself up on anything and everything. They're happy (most of the time) and healthy so at least I'm doing something right!
Monday, June 30, 2014
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Eight Month Old Fraternal Twins: Pulling Up On Furniture As My Sanity Weakens
I have eight month old fraternal twin boys -- 36 weeks if we're getting technical. Baby A continues to Army crawl as a means of travel. Baby B ... well he's a different story because even though they are twins they are still different babies. Baby B is pulling himself up on furniture and wobbling his way through life.
Frightening.
Last week he woke us up around 5 a.m. and I went in his room to find him standing in his crib, holding on to the side. What the heck?!? He loves to practice his new trick until he's exhausted.
I finally understand mothers who told me they loved the newborn stage. I wanted to scream in their face as I functioned on a few hours of sleep and struggled to care for a colicky newborn and his loveable but stubborn brother. However, now I somewhat understand. There was a silver lining in the newborn stage: you put them down and they stay there. Yeah, you were exhausted, hormonal and delirious but at least they stayed put.
Now, I was OK with crawling but this new stage resembles death-defying stunts. His legs shake unsteadily yet he slowly continues upward, pulling himself up on the couch, pack n play, activity center ... whatever he can find. He attempts to move sideways like a trapeze artist, slowly grabbing the furniture next to him.
When I put him down for a nap he pulls himself up to a standing position at least five times. My new workout is going downstairs, waiting until he fusses because he knows how to pull himself up but not sit back down, then walking up the stairs, taking his hands and showing him how to bend his knees and sit. Then I go back downstairs and wait for him to fuss again. I can feel the baby weight shedding off my body like a dog shedding hair in the summer! Or not.
Anyway, my husband purchased a play yard off Amazon that's 26 inches high and 34 square feet -- I wish my high school math teacher listened as we attempted to measure their current play area and figure out its square feet. For shame! The play yard can be used indoors and out.
However, I still am confused about this stage. Should I follow him around like a helicopter parent, making sure he doesn't fall and hurt himself - I've saved him from bumps and bruises too many times to count already. Or should I let him figure it out on his own? The problem is I feel like I am neglecting his brother who quietly plays with toys and crawls around. I figure he's old enough to do something, hurt himself, and figure out he shouldn't do that again or is he not old enough yet?
Ah yes the saga continues. Just when I was feeling confident in my mothering abilities one of them has to go and learn a new and dangerous trick. Yikes.
Frightening.
Last week he woke us up around 5 a.m. and I went in his room to find him standing in his crib, holding on to the side. What the heck?!? He loves to practice his new trick until he's exhausted.
I finally understand mothers who told me they loved the newborn stage. I wanted to scream in their face as I functioned on a few hours of sleep and struggled to care for a colicky newborn and his loveable but stubborn brother. However, now I somewhat understand. There was a silver lining in the newborn stage: you put them down and they stay there. Yeah, you were exhausted, hormonal and delirious but at least they stayed put.
Now, I was OK with crawling but this new stage resembles death-defying stunts. His legs shake unsteadily yet he slowly continues upward, pulling himself up on the couch, pack n play, activity center ... whatever he can find. He attempts to move sideways like a trapeze artist, slowly grabbing the furniture next to him.
When I put him down for a nap he pulls himself up to a standing position at least five times. My new workout is going downstairs, waiting until he fusses because he knows how to pull himself up but not sit back down, then walking up the stairs, taking his hands and showing him how to bend his knees and sit. Then I go back downstairs and wait for him to fuss again. I can feel the baby weight shedding off my body like a dog shedding hair in the summer! Or not.
Anyway, my husband purchased a play yard off Amazon that's 26 inches high and 34 square feet -- I wish my high school math teacher listened as we attempted to measure their current play area and figure out its square feet. For shame! The play yard can be used indoors and out.
However, I still am confused about this stage. Should I follow him around like a helicopter parent, making sure he doesn't fall and hurt himself - I've saved him from bumps and bruises too many times to count already. Or should I let him figure it out on his own? The problem is I feel like I am neglecting his brother who quietly plays with toys and crawls around. I figure he's old enough to do something, hurt himself, and figure out he shouldn't do that again or is he not old enough yet?
Ah yes the saga continues. Just when I was feeling confident in my mothering abilities one of them has to go and learn a new and dangerous trick. Yikes.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Almost Eight Month Old Fraternal Twins: Crawling Critters On The Move
My fraternal sons will be eight months old Sunday. I feel like they've been almost eight months old for 8,000 years. We are slowly inching to the one-year ... well, it's not a finish line but it definitely will be a milestone. Well, I'm inching but my sons are crawling, everywhere!
They've been crawling for a while now but their speed recently quickened. They can no longer use bouncy chairs as they learned how to sit up and attempt to escape. No bueno for mama. So, we went from one Baby Einstein activity center thing-a-ma-bob to two. Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy. This new one, bought yesterday, has sound so let's see how long it takes before that drives me nuts.
Yesterday Baby B attempted to pull himself up and, for about 30 seconds, was successful. Frightening. Part of me wants to keep them in the activity centers all the ding dong day but the other, louder part knows it's good for them to crawl around, learn boundaries and get exercise.
Sigh.
I'm out of my league here and overwhelmed. They are also eating baby food three times a day and I've asked advice from friends, family and my doctor but still feel like I'm winging motherhood. It's so crazy I'm allowed to be in charge, I can hardly believe it sometimes.
Just when I got comfortable, things changed. I have a feeling this will happen again and again and again.
They've been crawling for a while now but their speed recently quickened. They can no longer use bouncy chairs as they learned how to sit up and attempt to escape. No bueno for mama. So, we went from one Baby Einstein activity center thing-a-ma-bob to two. Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy. This new one, bought yesterday, has sound so let's see how long it takes before that drives me nuts.
Yesterday Baby B attempted to pull himself up and, for about 30 seconds, was successful. Frightening. Part of me wants to keep them in the activity centers all the ding dong day but the other, louder part knows it's good for them to crawl around, learn boundaries and get exercise.
Sigh.
I'm out of my league here and overwhelmed. They are also eating baby food three times a day and I've asked advice from friends, family and my doctor but still feel like I'm winging motherhood. It's so crazy I'm allowed to be in charge, I can hardly believe it sometimes.
Just when I got comfortable, things changed. I have a feeling this will happen again and again and again.
Monday, June 2, 2014
Almost Eight Month Old Fraternal Twins: Having A Birthday When You're A Mom
I am a stay-at-home mother of almost eight month old fraternal twins and today is my birthday. It's my first birthday where it's not about me.
My day was basically the same except my husband gave me a couple gifts this morning and I get to eat an unhealthy meal tonight - usually we save the bad-for-you food for the weekend. I also got Facebook birthday greetings from my online friends.
Last year I was pregnant so it was an usual birthday (i.e. sans alcohol) but not completely different like this year. When I was pregnant people told me to soak up the love because once the babies came out people wouldn't care about you anymore. I didn't think much about this because I was more focused on growing humans inside me! I'm sure I've felt unnoticed over the past eight months but it wasn't until my birthday that I finally felt like the invisible woman.
I am the invisible woman. I am braless in pajamas with dried oatmeal on my shirt. My hair is falling out of the bun I put it in at 5 a.m. I have not brushed my teeth or washed my face.
I am listening to the baby monitor, waiting for Baby B to wake since he's been asleep almost two hours. Sounds nice, right? Wrong. I have twins. Just because Baby B snoozes doesn't mean Baby A snoozes. They went down for their first nap together but Baby B decided 30 minutes was adequate while Baby A went for the hour-and-a-half snoozeapalooza. So their schedule is off today. As far as the second nap of the day, Baby A has only been napping for a half an hour. When's my nap? No nap for invisible with food to cook, laundry to do, blah blah blah. The coffee is coursing through my veins at a slow purr.
I figure if I started writing this blog, Baby B would wake but he's still asleep.
Did I say I was tired? Women told me in a couple years I'll have my birthdays back, whatever that means. It's hard to come to terms with this but I won't have anything back. Nothing is coming back. No 9-5 hustle with carefree weekends. No lazy wondering what to make for dinner and lounging while watching a television show in the evening. I can hardly make it to 8:30 p.m. but, in a cruel twist, can't fall asleep until at least 10 p.m. No sleeping in. No wandering around Target for fun. Do I want it back? No, especially if that means giving up my children. I love them so much love isn't the word to capture the feeling. Do I miss being carefree, or at least reminiscing on how carefree my life was even though I didn't know at the time? Of course I do.
Happy birthday to mommy, happy birthday to me.
My day was basically the same except my husband gave me a couple gifts this morning and I get to eat an unhealthy meal tonight - usually we save the bad-for-you food for the weekend. I also got Facebook birthday greetings from my online friends.
Last year I was pregnant so it was an usual birthday (i.e. sans alcohol) but not completely different like this year. When I was pregnant people told me to soak up the love because once the babies came out people wouldn't care about you anymore. I didn't think much about this because I was more focused on growing humans inside me! I'm sure I've felt unnoticed over the past eight months but it wasn't until my birthday that I finally felt like the invisible woman.
I am the invisible woman. I am braless in pajamas with dried oatmeal on my shirt. My hair is falling out of the bun I put it in at 5 a.m. I have not brushed my teeth or washed my face.
I am listening to the baby monitor, waiting for Baby B to wake since he's been asleep almost two hours. Sounds nice, right? Wrong. I have twins. Just because Baby B snoozes doesn't mean Baby A snoozes. They went down for their first nap together but Baby B decided 30 minutes was adequate while Baby A went for the hour-and-a-half snoozeapalooza. So their schedule is off today. As far as the second nap of the day, Baby A has only been napping for a half an hour. When's my nap? No nap for invisible with food to cook, laundry to do, blah blah blah. The coffee is coursing through my veins at a slow purr.
I figure if I started writing this blog, Baby B would wake but he's still asleep.
Did I say I was tired? Women told me in a couple years I'll have my birthdays back, whatever that means. It's hard to come to terms with this but I won't have anything back. Nothing is coming back. No 9-5 hustle with carefree weekends. No lazy wondering what to make for dinner and lounging while watching a television show in the evening. I can hardly make it to 8:30 p.m. but, in a cruel twist, can't fall asleep until at least 10 p.m. No sleeping in. No wandering around Target for fun. Do I want it back? No, especially if that means giving up my children. I love them so much love isn't the word to capture the feeling. Do I miss being carefree, or at least reminiscing on how carefree my life was even though I didn't know at the time? Of course I do.
Happy birthday to mommy, happy birthday to me.
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