I breathe in, I breathe out. I pinch myself and it hurts, on the verge of feeling pleasant as my mind stops racing to acknowledge physical pain. I must be alive, right? I'm checking in from the ... I want to write abyss but that's not right. My life is the opposite of void. It is a bottomless pit filled with pandemonium. Almost like I'm chained to the wall in the middle of Alice's Rabbit Hole. Yes, that's it. I'm Alice, floating in an endless Rabbit Hole yet chained to life's responsibilities, an invisible chain created in my mind feeding off the endless feedback from society, pushing mothers and their children to be smarter, faster, better so they can win ... what race? Pushing mothers and wives to lose the weight, look perfect, never fart, be housewife and whore. Part of me wants to fully support my family, pushing whatever is left of me aside, part of me wants to run for the hills and part of me knows it will never be enough. What a happy pie graph filled with glitter and rainbows.
Man I sound crazy.
Since last I wrote my twins are on the verge of their third birthdays - 17 days. Where has the time gone? Some parents think, "Oh my! Time flies!" However, I can't grasp that philosophy. Time flies but you're traveling in mud.
In mid-June, my autistic son went from therapy twice a week to therapy Monday to Friday. It was a summer program at his school with ABA, speech and occupational therapy as well as swim lessons. He was thriving in school so I figured why not? I want to take advantage of every service offered, within reason, especially when the insurance is footing the bill and time ticks down until he starts Kindergarten. His twin and I will figure out something to do during his school hours, I figured, so away we went.
We also returned to the prestigious institute where he was diagnosed with autism for a food therapy evaluation. Basically he eats milk, cheese, fries, an occasional chicken nugget, carbs like pretzels and chips, applesauce, cookies, Cheerios, pancakes, gummies ... I just want to get a damn vegetable into the boy. So, a group of quacks evaluated and concluded he needed therapy either once a week or once every two weeks. That would mean me driving to their offices two hours one way, offices that are surrounded by not-so-nice neighborhoods.
So, after talking with folks at his school, we decided my son could start eating lunch there and they could help him instead of carting my crazy train all across the state. It was a hard choice - do I take advantage of every opportunity or do I follow my intuition? What if they could have helped him better than his school? What if the sun dies out tomorrow? What if I get hit by a thunderbolt right now for all my bad thoughts? What if a pit opens up in the floor and Satan pops out and starts dancing? Gosh I am crazy.
One son at school, another at the playground, the park, the beach, the library, the store ... wherever they will let our wild asses go without costing an arm and a leg.
When it came time for the summer camp to end, his therapists suggested he continue daily, but instead of three hours a day he moved to five. So, here I am with a son in a special school for autism from morning to mid-afternoon five days a week.
My boys still get services through the Infant & Toddlers Program in our county but you get what you pay for when it comes to therapy. My autistic son gets OT, Speech, Development and PT through the school system in addition to his private school. As for his brother, I am doing a program through the school system to learn how to handle his ... enthusiastic temperament, aka Dennis the Menace. I think the title is Positive Solutions For Families. How flowery. I want to get him into some sort of preschool program, where they can deal with his inability to listen and follow directions, etc. but money rules everything around me and I ain't got none.
So, I'm alive. I took a shower yesterday, so that's positive. My legs aren't too hairy, I drink too much wine, I'm tired, I need to get a job so my one son can go to preschool but I haven't worked for years and have no skills other than madness. So, there's that.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Friday, May 27, 2016
2.5 Year Old Fraternal Twin Boys - Girl You So Cray
I am a stay-at-home mother of 2.5 year old fraternal twin boys. Well, I try not to actually stay in our home because if I did I would go insane from the evils of Cabin Fever. Well ... maybe I already suffer from a bout of insanity because it's said the insane don't recognize they are insane.
And no, I don't mean the Insanity workout the hens tweet and Facebook pictures of themselves doing, sweaty and breathless, desperately seeking confidence from outsiders so they can continue their lonely, sad existence. You exercised. Congratulations. No one cares except you and that isn't enough because you're pathetic.
Can you tell I'm a little burnt out? Little crispy, weary and worn out? Maybe I'm crazy. Like a mix of Gnarls Barkley "Crazy" and Disturbed's "Asylum" crazy - a dancing clown suppressing darkness.
Sound like mom of the year, right? I think I'm realistic, which is hard to come by among moms these days. When you think of a good mother, what comes to mind? Your mom? June Cleaver? Lois Griffin? Tommy DeVito's mom in "Goodfellas?" Beverly Sutphin in "Serial Mom?" Definitely not Margaret White in "Carrie" but you catch my drift.
My boys are happy and healthy. We joined a Monday morning playgroup, my autistic son gets therapy twice a week in a school setting (which my husband and I jumped through hoops for - therapy and the diagnosis itself), they both receive therapy through the school system for delays, when the weather is nice we go to the park, I take them to the library and grocery shopping even though they act like rabid skunks while there, we only watch "Sesame Street" when we watch TV, I feed them mostly healthy foods and milk or watered down juice, I don't spank and try not to yell, I don't cuss in front of them, they are healthy, well-fed and happy with a regular nap and bedtime schedule. They live in a reliable and warm environment. I don't shoehorn my needs before theirs like taking them to inappropriate places or making them do things they're not ready for just so I can do what I want.
So my insides are possibly blackened from delirium and I drink wine every night and don't always eat as well as I should but, at the end of the day, I'm doing my best. Isn't that what makes a good mom? Whatever your best may be, you're doing it and you're doing it well - not like fake-ass LL Cool J but like a human being.
Why can't moms be real? Why can't we say our kids can be frustrating? Why can't we say we don't enjoy most of it? I'm not having the time of my life right now. Yeah, when one of my boys reaches for me, hugs me and leans his head on my shoulder - it's one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had in my lifetime. When he won't go to sleep at bedtime and drives my husband and I crazy for 1-2 hours kicking the walls, terrorizing his brother, trying to get naked, breaking shit in his room, crying over nothing - no I don't enjoy this. I don't like changing diapers, watching motherfucking Elmo, cleaning up messes, listening to drama, taking care of two creatures who don't listen and don't respect my authority, etc. Why am I expected to like this? It's still taboo to not like your kids and express this viewpoint. Hell, it's still taboo for people to not want to have kids. It may be 2016 but the majority of people still one way or another expect you to get a job, get married and have kids (in whatever order). If you don't have kids we think you're selfish - or my husband and I are secretly jealous of you free time and lifestyle.
No I don't want to give my kids back. Yes I love them unconditionally. But why can't I say that it sucks?
And no, I don't mean the Insanity workout the hens tweet and Facebook pictures of themselves doing, sweaty and breathless, desperately seeking confidence from outsiders so they can continue their lonely, sad existence. You exercised. Congratulations. No one cares except you and that isn't enough because you're pathetic.
Can you tell I'm a little burnt out? Little crispy, weary and worn out? Maybe I'm crazy. Like a mix of Gnarls Barkley "Crazy" and Disturbed's "Asylum" crazy - a dancing clown suppressing darkness.
Sound like mom of the year, right? I think I'm realistic, which is hard to come by among moms these days. When you think of a good mother, what comes to mind? Your mom? June Cleaver? Lois Griffin? Tommy DeVito's mom in "Goodfellas?" Beverly Sutphin in "Serial Mom?" Definitely not Margaret White in "Carrie" but you catch my drift.
My boys are happy and healthy. We joined a Monday morning playgroup, my autistic son gets therapy twice a week in a school setting (which my husband and I jumped through hoops for - therapy and the diagnosis itself), they both receive therapy through the school system for delays, when the weather is nice we go to the park, I take them to the library and grocery shopping even though they act like rabid skunks while there, we only watch "Sesame Street" when we watch TV, I feed them mostly healthy foods and milk or watered down juice, I don't spank and try not to yell, I don't cuss in front of them, they are healthy, well-fed and happy with a regular nap and bedtime schedule. They live in a reliable and warm environment. I don't shoehorn my needs before theirs like taking them to inappropriate places or making them do things they're not ready for just so I can do what I want.
So my insides are possibly blackened from delirium and I drink wine every night and don't always eat as well as I should but, at the end of the day, I'm doing my best. Isn't that what makes a good mom? Whatever your best may be, you're doing it and you're doing it well - not like fake-ass LL Cool J but like a human being.
Why can't moms be real? Why can't we say our kids can be frustrating? Why can't we say we don't enjoy most of it? I'm not having the time of my life right now. Yeah, when one of my boys reaches for me, hugs me and leans his head on my shoulder - it's one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had in my lifetime. When he won't go to sleep at bedtime and drives my husband and I crazy for 1-2 hours kicking the walls, terrorizing his brother, trying to get naked, breaking shit in his room, crying over nothing - no I don't enjoy this. I don't like changing diapers, watching motherfucking Elmo, cleaning up messes, listening to drama, taking care of two creatures who don't listen and don't respect my authority, etc. Why am I expected to like this? It's still taboo to not like your kids and express this viewpoint. Hell, it's still taboo for people to not want to have kids. It may be 2016 but the majority of people still one way or another expect you to get a job, get married and have kids (in whatever order). If you don't have kids we think you're selfish - or my husband and I are secretly jealous of you free time and lifestyle.
No I don't want to give my kids back. Yes I love them unconditionally. But why can't I say that it sucks?
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Two Year Old Fraternal Twins: Mombie Madness
I have not posted since May 2015 - 10 months and counting. I could have gotten knocked up and had another hellion by now! Excuse me while I fist pump and breathe a sigh of relief!
So, my fraternal twin boys are closing in on two-and-a-half years old. I gave up counting months after their second birthday because it was getting ridiculous.
I just read over my last post (thank you Constance for commenting!) and it seems like a lifetime ago. It's the same crazy ballgame, I'm the same crazy umpire but it's a different inning.
My boys have been receiving therapy through the local school system for developmental delays. They both started with speech and developmental therapy for speech delays and help with fine motor movement, etc. The program is a year long and then there's a reevaluation to see if the child needs to stay in the program or "graduate." Baby B is set for graduation in a few months as he's talking up a storm - we can almost have a conversation. He needs to work on staying on task but what 2 year old doesn't? He's definitely deep into the terrible 2's (and from what I've heard 3's is worse! Pass the vodka) but that's normal.
On the other hand, Baby A has a long road ahead of him. Don't get me wrong, he's made great strides. He went from basically non-verbal (not babbling) to having a handful of words. His fine motor skills improved, he's learned some sign language and he follows simple directions. Soon after therapy started it was evident he was troubled with something more than just simple delays. He soon received an evaluation by an occupational therapist and it was determined he has sensory processing disorder and proprioceptive disorder. Basically he needs to move more than others and he's a bit clumsy.
While I have seen great progress with speech and development, his occupational therapy was nice but I didn't see much in the way of results. He was still constantly moving, still clumsy, still in his own world - a lovable loner yearning for sensory input. When I took him for his 2-year check up, his pediatrician strongly suggested an evaluation by a certified institution specializing in children with delays.
So, long story short he got an evaluation by a doctor. Then another by a speech language pathologist. Then another by an audiologist. Then another by a developmental pediatrician. Each doctor kept seeing things in him that needed another opinion by someone more knowledgable. Finally my husband and I were told that our beautiful, happy, sweet boy has autism.
I would be lying if I said I was over the news. I have come to terms with the news. I mourned my son for a while, I mourned the life I thought he would have and the person I thought he would have become. Then I realized this is who he is - he has autism. He runs around, typically in his own little world, smiling, laughing, obsessing on letters and numbers, holding on to random objects for hours at a time. He's socially awkward but not a hermit. There's nothing different about him but now we have a name for the sometimes troubling things he does. That's the hardest thing to come to terms with - he hasn't changed. He's still Baby A. He still loves the letter P, the number 2 and Elmo. He loves to count and read "Five Little Monkeys." He hasn't changed. I randomly remind myself he has autism. Life is so busy I often forget and then it hits me and I go, "Oh yeah. Well ... so what?"
So, as Pete the Cat says, I am still walking along and singing my song. We joined a local playgroup for some socialization (for ME and the boys!) and have been trying to get out more - thanks to the weather and the Brica By-My-Side Harness Backpack - I know, a freaking leash! But I'm telling you it has been a lifesaver. I get some crazy-ass looks (especially since I live in a very small town) but now we are mobile! Mobile and safe! They still manage to terrorize the local library and cause a scene every single damn time we go in there but there's only so many items you can buy on Amazon!
Baby B is going to start Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy soonish (if insurance can get with the program) as suggested by his developmental pediatrician. My new motto is: you never know until you try. I've heard good and bad things about ABA, as I've heard good and bad things about most everything in life, but I owe it to him to give it a go and see if it helps him thrive. He recently received a physical therapy evaluation and will start therapy to address low tone, which is a whole new can of worms I am NOT going to google and drive myself crazy over. His therapist recommended swimming so my big butt dons a skirted mom-suit every Monday night and Baby A and I hit the pool for the Water Babies class.
Honestly I don't know how I feel about Baby A having autism and various delays. He has five therapists and he's only 2! I have twins, one with autism and I have to be his advocate (something I have had to deal with many times already ... story for another day) so, needless to say, my cup runneth over. I don't want to try to put it into words because I won't do my feelings or him justice. I am feeling all the feelings and I love him very much so let's change the subject ...
My better half and I are trying to lose weight. He less than me (isn't that always the case ladies?!) but still it's a struggle. Losing weight - whether 5 or 50 lbs - is never easy, especially when you have twins! That was actually supposed to be the theme for this long overdue post but I got to talking about the main attraction - my sons! - and got lost as I am prone to do since they literally take up my entire day every day. However, it hit me that I have been trying to lose weight since 1995. Twenty-one years of gaining, losing, emotionally eating, fad diets, cleanses, letting myself go, new workout programs, a twin pregnancy where I gained 75 pounds ... that's crazy.
The boys are going to be 3 in October so I can't blame it on baby weight anymore. It's hard to find motivation lately because life is so chaotic and emotionally draining so I am trying to focus on eating healthier and getting more exercise because I will feel better and be a better mom and wife. I need to fuel my body. Now, I get my damn cheat meal (more like a day) on the weekend! That's non-negotiable but I need to work on actually deserving the cheat - which means stop randomly cheating during the week!
I'm a mombie - a mom zombie - but as I tell my boys often, "We're getting it done. It may not be pretty but we are getting it done!" What's "it?" I have no idea just as I have no idea what I'm doing!
So, my fraternal twin boys are closing in on two-and-a-half years old. I gave up counting months after their second birthday because it was getting ridiculous.
I just read over my last post (thank you Constance for commenting!) and it seems like a lifetime ago. It's the same crazy ballgame, I'm the same crazy umpire but it's a different inning.
My boys have been receiving therapy through the local school system for developmental delays. They both started with speech and developmental therapy for speech delays and help with fine motor movement, etc. The program is a year long and then there's a reevaluation to see if the child needs to stay in the program or "graduate." Baby B is set for graduation in a few months as he's talking up a storm - we can almost have a conversation. He needs to work on staying on task but what 2 year old doesn't? He's definitely deep into the terrible 2's (and from what I've heard 3's is worse! Pass the vodka) but that's normal.
On the other hand, Baby A has a long road ahead of him. Don't get me wrong, he's made great strides. He went from basically non-verbal (not babbling) to having a handful of words. His fine motor skills improved, he's learned some sign language and he follows simple directions. Soon after therapy started it was evident he was troubled with something more than just simple delays. He soon received an evaluation by an occupational therapist and it was determined he has sensory processing disorder and proprioceptive disorder. Basically he needs to move more than others and he's a bit clumsy.
While I have seen great progress with speech and development, his occupational therapy was nice but I didn't see much in the way of results. He was still constantly moving, still clumsy, still in his own world - a lovable loner yearning for sensory input. When I took him for his 2-year check up, his pediatrician strongly suggested an evaluation by a certified institution specializing in children with delays.
So, long story short he got an evaluation by a doctor. Then another by a speech language pathologist. Then another by an audiologist. Then another by a developmental pediatrician. Each doctor kept seeing things in him that needed another opinion by someone more knowledgable. Finally my husband and I were told that our beautiful, happy, sweet boy has autism.
I would be lying if I said I was over the news. I have come to terms with the news. I mourned my son for a while, I mourned the life I thought he would have and the person I thought he would have become. Then I realized this is who he is - he has autism. He runs around, typically in his own little world, smiling, laughing, obsessing on letters and numbers, holding on to random objects for hours at a time. He's socially awkward but not a hermit. There's nothing different about him but now we have a name for the sometimes troubling things he does. That's the hardest thing to come to terms with - he hasn't changed. He's still Baby A. He still loves the letter P, the number 2 and Elmo. He loves to count and read "Five Little Monkeys." He hasn't changed. I randomly remind myself he has autism. Life is so busy I often forget and then it hits me and I go, "Oh yeah. Well ... so what?"
So, as Pete the Cat says, I am still walking along and singing my song. We joined a local playgroup for some socialization (for ME and the boys!) and have been trying to get out more - thanks to the weather and the Brica By-My-Side Harness Backpack - I know, a freaking leash! But I'm telling you it has been a lifesaver. I get some crazy-ass looks (especially since I live in a very small town) but now we are mobile! Mobile and safe! They still manage to terrorize the local library and cause a scene every single damn time we go in there but there's only so many items you can buy on Amazon!
Baby B is going to start Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy soonish (if insurance can get with the program) as suggested by his developmental pediatrician. My new motto is: you never know until you try. I've heard good and bad things about ABA, as I've heard good and bad things about most everything in life, but I owe it to him to give it a go and see if it helps him thrive. He recently received a physical therapy evaluation and will start therapy to address low tone, which is a whole new can of worms I am NOT going to google and drive myself crazy over. His therapist recommended swimming so my big butt dons a skirted mom-suit every Monday night and Baby A and I hit the pool for the Water Babies class.
Honestly I don't know how I feel about Baby A having autism and various delays. He has five therapists and he's only 2! I have twins, one with autism and I have to be his advocate (something I have had to deal with many times already ... story for another day) so, needless to say, my cup runneth over. I don't want to try to put it into words because I won't do my feelings or him justice. I am feeling all the feelings and I love him very much so let's change the subject ...
My better half and I are trying to lose weight. He less than me (isn't that always the case ladies?!) but still it's a struggle. Losing weight - whether 5 or 50 lbs - is never easy, especially when you have twins! That was actually supposed to be the theme for this long overdue post but I got to talking about the main attraction - my sons! - and got lost as I am prone to do since they literally take up my entire day every day. However, it hit me that I have been trying to lose weight since 1995. Twenty-one years of gaining, losing, emotionally eating, fad diets, cleanses, letting myself go, new workout programs, a twin pregnancy where I gained 75 pounds ... that's crazy.
The boys are going to be 3 in October so I can't blame it on baby weight anymore. It's hard to find motivation lately because life is so chaotic and emotionally draining so I am trying to focus on eating healthier and getting more exercise because I will feel better and be a better mom and wife. I need to fuel my body. Now, I get my damn cheat meal (more like a day) on the weekend! That's non-negotiable but I need to work on actually deserving the cheat - which means stop randomly cheating during the week!
I'm a mombie - a mom zombie - but as I tell my boys often, "We're getting it done. It may not be pretty but we are getting it done!" What's "it?" I have no idea just as I have no idea what I'm doing!
Thursday, May 28, 2015
19 Month Old Twins: We Do What We Can Because We Must
Major blowout alert. Repeat, major blowout alert.
Today after a nutritious lunch, 75% of which was thrown on the floor, Baby A smelled a little unfresh. I had already taken Baby B to his pack-n-play in the living room, which I do everyday before a brief storytime and hopefully-not-brief naptime. So, I thought I should check Baby A's diaper before the pnp transition and, if it was a huge poop, change it before storytime instead of letting him "get out all the toots," as I refer to it, before a diaper change, possible clothes change and bedtime for bonzos. Fill her up on Pump A!
So, as many mothers do, I leaned him forward and peeked at the situation. What did I find? Poop on my hand. So, I commenced with diaper change. I told Baby B we would be right back and took Baby A's shirt off to use as a buffer on the changing table. Down went shirt, down went Baby A, off came pants, open went diaper and this was a situation alright.
Blowouts have happened before, obviously since I am a stay-at-home mom of twin toddlers. There's the brief sigh and mental assessment. Then there's the gathering of wet wipes (my husband and I use the number of wipes needed as a scale of destruction - i.e. "Oh it was a F7 situation," because tornadoes and blowouts have so much in common ... ). So, I began cleaning and quickly noticed these wipes weren't cutting the mustard. Then I noticed poop on his arm.
What in the world. So, I lifted his butt and took a peek underneath. Poop. Everywhere. Another brief sigh and mental assessment. Well, this lucky duck is getting two baths today! I put his poop filled diaper in the diaper not-really-a-genie, gathered up the poop covered blankets and outfit, gathered him up, dumped poop covered items in empty washing machine (thank God it was empty) and placed his little poop covered body in the bathtub.
Just another day in paradise, right?
I relayed this incident to my husband via text. After some back and forth my husband texted, "I would have barfed." I sat there looking at his text. I have been cleaning up poop for almost 20 months. It went from black hot lava to a mustardy, seed festival to what sometimes seems like adult poop. Poop. It was like in sixth grade when I took sex ed and, at the start of the class, the teacher made us say, "Vagina vagina vagina penis penis penis." In this case it's poop poop poop poop poop poop. I've dealt with it so much it's almost as if the word lost meaning, like when you say a word so many times it starts to sound funny.
Him: "I would have barfed."
Me: "There's no barfing in mothering."
Him: "Cause you're tough. I couldn't do it."
Me: "No it's because you can't. It's survival mode. There's no room for you, just them."
He thinks this is amazing but I think survival mode is what it sounds like, surviving. I finished cleaning Baby A, got him dressed and went on with the day as usual. There's no time for a reaction and if I did react it would only be wasted. My kid is covered in poop. Feces! Fight or flight - I can't flee from this one. Baby B is waiting for his stories! Stick to the schedule mom!
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? My kids don't have time for my feelings because they're toddlers and don't empathize. I wake up when my kids wake me up. From there it's go-go-go until they take a nap and I can eat my lunch, do a YouTube mommy workout video (with the blinds closed!) and watch something mindless on television. When they wake up it's go-go-go until I eat my dinner that I cooked. No time for nonsense. We do what we can because we must.
Today after a nutritious lunch, 75% of which was thrown on the floor, Baby A smelled a little unfresh. I had already taken Baby B to his pack-n-play in the living room, which I do everyday before a brief storytime and hopefully-not-brief naptime. So, I thought I should check Baby A's diaper before the pnp transition and, if it was a huge poop, change it before storytime instead of letting him "get out all the toots," as I refer to it, before a diaper change, possible clothes change and bedtime for bonzos. Fill her up on Pump A!
So, as many mothers do, I leaned him forward and peeked at the situation. What did I find? Poop on my hand. So, I commenced with diaper change. I told Baby B we would be right back and took Baby A's shirt off to use as a buffer on the changing table. Down went shirt, down went Baby A, off came pants, open went diaper and this was a situation alright.
Blowouts have happened before, obviously since I am a stay-at-home mom of twin toddlers. There's the brief sigh and mental assessment. Then there's the gathering of wet wipes (my husband and I use the number of wipes needed as a scale of destruction - i.e. "Oh it was a F7 situation," because tornadoes and blowouts have so much in common ... ). So, I began cleaning and quickly noticed these wipes weren't cutting the mustard. Then I noticed poop on his arm.
What in the world. So, I lifted his butt and took a peek underneath. Poop. Everywhere. Another brief sigh and mental assessment. Well, this lucky duck is getting two baths today! I put his poop filled diaper in the diaper not-really-a-genie, gathered up the poop covered blankets and outfit, gathered him up, dumped poop covered items in empty washing machine (thank God it was empty) and placed his little poop covered body in the bathtub.
Just another day in paradise, right?
I relayed this incident to my husband via text. After some back and forth my husband texted, "I would have barfed." I sat there looking at his text. I have been cleaning up poop for almost 20 months. It went from black hot lava to a mustardy, seed festival to what sometimes seems like adult poop. Poop. It was like in sixth grade when I took sex ed and, at the start of the class, the teacher made us say, "Vagina vagina vagina penis penis penis." In this case it's poop poop poop poop poop poop. I've dealt with it so much it's almost as if the word lost meaning, like when you say a word so many times it starts to sound funny.
Him: "I would have barfed."
Me: "There's no barfing in mothering."
Him: "Cause you're tough. I couldn't do it."
Me: "No it's because you can't. It's survival mode. There's no room for you, just them."
He thinks this is amazing but I think survival mode is what it sounds like, surviving. I finished cleaning Baby A, got him dressed and went on with the day as usual. There's no time for a reaction and if I did react it would only be wasted. My kid is covered in poop. Feces! Fight or flight - I can't flee from this one. Baby B is waiting for his stories! Stick to the schedule mom!
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? My kids don't have time for my feelings because they're toddlers and don't empathize. I wake up when my kids wake me up. From there it's go-go-go until they take a nap and I can eat my lunch, do a YouTube mommy workout video (with the blinds closed!) and watch something mindless on television. When they wake up it's go-go-go until I eat my dinner that I cooked. No time for nonsense. We do what we can because we must.
Friday, May 22, 2015
19-Month-Old Twins: What About Dear Ol' Mom?
I may or may not be going crazy - or cray as the kids say. I'm not over-exaggerating like many do nowadays when anonymously complaining online. I may be going crazy, like the nuthouse up in Togus crazy. Like here's a paper cup with your pills dear, I'll watch to make sure you take them. Stick out your tongue dear, let me make sure you swallowed them.
It happened Wednesday. I was sitting on the floor of my twin's playroom while they whined and played around me. I can't say it was a lighting bolt thought or monumental realization, the likes you see on TV or read in popular literature. It was more like I was tired, really tired. Not sleepy tired but emotionally tired.
I do the same thing everyday because my kids are on a schedule (children crave structure, right?). After a while it wears on you - the constant picking yourself up and putting a smile on your face because your kids and husband deserve a smile. I haven't gotten a haircut since June because why? I go to the gym a couple times a week if my husband's work schedule allows since we have one car. We usually have something planned for Saturday, like seeing friends or doing something, and Sunday I go to the grocery store alone (which is 45 minutes away). The rest of the weekend we straighten up the house. Then it's Monday again ... isn't it always Monday? I can't take the boys anywhere alone because they are wild, emotional little people who don't listen to me.
So, I was sitting there and one of my twins was doing something frustrating, probably Baby B since he is often difficult, and I couldn't pick myself up. I couldn't put a smile on my face like I had been doing off-and-on for 19 months. I just could not. I'm a flashlight and my batteries need a recharge. It was Wednesday but I thought it was Tuesday. When I learned it was actually Wednesday my first thought was - well what's the difference? As Trent Reznor sings, "Everyday is exactly the same."
The other day or week, who knows, my husband mentioned something about what we were doing last year at this time and I thought, for goodness sakes I've been stuck in this house doing this routine, or a similar routine, for over a year. A year of my life. When the boys were born I was 29 and in a week I will be 31. The lost years of my life.
Now I know many mothers around the country would be disgusted with that idea. Mothering is a blessing. Double the fun, double the blessing. Enjoy it now because they will grow up before you know it. Yes, I am not heartless. I love the hugs, the laughs, the smiles, the snuggles, the babbling, how they look when they are resting peacefully in their cribs - I am not heartless. I simply am over it. I am burnt out. At the end of each day and the end of each week I am a shell of a person and I feel guilty because my family deserves better so I feel even worse. Double the baby, double the guilt. However, this is the one profession where it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter if I really don't feel like changing my kids diaper for the fifth time today. It doesn't matter if I don't feel like making them a healthy meal or dealing with their temper tantrums or giving them a bath. It does not matter how I feel because I still have to do these things, I still have to be their mother. Would it be wrong of me to say mothering mostly sucks? It is the hardest and most wonderful thing I have ever done in my life but it is so draining. I am burnt out, like trying to light a cigarette butt.
I feel like a failure because I can't empathize with them. They are babies (I call them old babies because although they are 19-months they are still babies). They don't mean to be difficult, they don't mean to hurt my feelings, they don't know what's going on, they can't even talk. I should try to help them and be gentle and patient, right? I shouldn't get my feelings hurt when Baby B, the only somewhat verbal one, doesn't call me Mama (he doesn't call me anything) and, when upset in the middle of the night, only wants his father to console him. I know this but feelings are feelings.
Luckily I have an empathic better half who listened to me when I shared this. He wanted me to share this with a private Facebook mommy group that rocks my stay-at-home-mommy world. They are supportive and keep it real while offering a place for advice. One of my twins may or may not have a speech delay (chronicled in my last post) and I turned to the group for advice.
However, I am hesitant to share this with them. I'm pretty sure there are other women in the group who are going through similar situations but what's the point? It's something I need to deal with myself. Keep on keeping on. Sharing it on this platform, anonymously, is somewhat cathartic as I've released it from my crowded mind but I don't necessarily want to empathize with other moms or hear the cliched rhetoric that I won't empathize with because I'm knee deep in chaos. I'm tired of empathy. I'm tired of feeling guilty for feeling.
So, what to do? Breathe, keep calm and carry on.
It happened Wednesday. I was sitting on the floor of my twin's playroom while they whined and played around me. I can't say it was a lighting bolt thought or monumental realization, the likes you see on TV or read in popular literature. It was more like I was tired, really tired. Not sleepy tired but emotionally tired.
I do the same thing everyday because my kids are on a schedule (children crave structure, right?). After a while it wears on you - the constant picking yourself up and putting a smile on your face because your kids and husband deserve a smile. I haven't gotten a haircut since June because why? I go to the gym a couple times a week if my husband's work schedule allows since we have one car. We usually have something planned for Saturday, like seeing friends or doing something, and Sunday I go to the grocery store alone (which is 45 minutes away). The rest of the weekend we straighten up the house. Then it's Monday again ... isn't it always Monday? I can't take the boys anywhere alone because they are wild, emotional little people who don't listen to me.
So, I was sitting there and one of my twins was doing something frustrating, probably Baby B since he is often difficult, and I couldn't pick myself up. I couldn't put a smile on my face like I had been doing off-and-on for 19 months. I just could not. I'm a flashlight and my batteries need a recharge. It was Wednesday but I thought it was Tuesday. When I learned it was actually Wednesday my first thought was - well what's the difference? As Trent Reznor sings, "Everyday is exactly the same."
The other day or week, who knows, my husband mentioned something about what we were doing last year at this time and I thought, for goodness sakes I've been stuck in this house doing this routine, or a similar routine, for over a year. A year of my life. When the boys were born I was 29 and in a week I will be 31. The lost years of my life.
Now I know many mothers around the country would be disgusted with that idea. Mothering is a blessing. Double the fun, double the blessing. Enjoy it now because they will grow up before you know it. Yes, I am not heartless. I love the hugs, the laughs, the smiles, the snuggles, the babbling, how they look when they are resting peacefully in their cribs - I am not heartless. I simply am over it. I am burnt out. At the end of each day and the end of each week I am a shell of a person and I feel guilty because my family deserves better so I feel even worse. Double the baby, double the guilt. However, this is the one profession where it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter if I really don't feel like changing my kids diaper for the fifth time today. It doesn't matter if I don't feel like making them a healthy meal or dealing with their temper tantrums or giving them a bath. It does not matter how I feel because I still have to do these things, I still have to be their mother. Would it be wrong of me to say mothering mostly sucks? It is the hardest and most wonderful thing I have ever done in my life but it is so draining. I am burnt out, like trying to light a cigarette butt.
I feel like a failure because I can't empathize with them. They are babies (I call them old babies because although they are 19-months they are still babies). They don't mean to be difficult, they don't mean to hurt my feelings, they don't know what's going on, they can't even talk. I should try to help them and be gentle and patient, right? I shouldn't get my feelings hurt when Baby B, the only somewhat verbal one, doesn't call me Mama (he doesn't call me anything) and, when upset in the middle of the night, only wants his father to console him. I know this but feelings are feelings.
Luckily I have an empathic better half who listened to me when I shared this. He wanted me to share this with a private Facebook mommy group that rocks my stay-at-home-mommy world. They are supportive and keep it real while offering a place for advice. One of my twins may or may not have a speech delay (chronicled in my last post) and I turned to the group for advice.
However, I am hesitant to share this with them. I'm pretty sure there are other women in the group who are going through similar situations but what's the point? It's something I need to deal with myself. Keep on keeping on. Sharing it on this platform, anonymously, is somewhat cathartic as I've released it from my crowded mind but I don't necessarily want to empathize with other moms or hear the cliched rhetoric that I won't empathize with because I'm knee deep in chaos. I'm tired of empathy. I'm tired of feeling guilty for feeling.
So, what to do? Breathe, keep calm and carry on.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
17 Month Old Fraternal Twin Boys: Does My Toddler Have A Speech Delay?
As if I didn't have enough stress, I've found more things to worry about!
With twin toddlers, it takes a lot of effort on my part to get through the day. Well-rounded, nutritious finger foods, more milk less juice, playtime, safety first, naptime calmness, bathtime fun, routine, a little TV and a lot of books, clean diapers, and so on.
I save most of my worry for right before bed when my Melatonin-ed, Valerian root-ed, Benadryl-ed butt is supposed to be winding down. The other night I was Googling and found myself on a Baby Center page for Warning Signs of a Toddler's Language Delay. After reading a couple paragraphs I suddenly went into panic mode and quickly texted my husband (who was downstairs saving us all from brain-crazed zombies via Xbox One). Join me in the freak out dear husband of mine. Of course he's super rational and wanted to know why I was still awake, why I was Googling shit, who made this "stupid list" and, after I told him, "what the hell they knew."
My main worry with Baby A is he does not respond to his name. He does not talk and only recently started babbling (like a week or so). While he waves (wildly with both hands) and shakes his head (sometimes randomly), he does not point. He's uses the consonant B but only B (Ba sounds). I don't think he understands bye-bye but he might understand no (or he might be getting upset because I raised my voice). He does not point out things of interest. These are all listed under "By 12 Months." I won't even start on the "By 18 Months" list because there's so much he's already not doing.
Baby B says two words: "Dada" and "Gaga" (for light as he is obsessed with turning lights on and off around the house). He sometimes waves his hand (more like opening and closing his fist), does not shake his head but does point. He's been babbling for a while now. I don't know if he understands bye-bye but he does understand no, although he doesn't stop doing what he's doing. He points at things of interest but just started doing this recently.
Their 18-month wellness checkup is approaching so I plan to wait (two weeks) to bring my concerns up with their pediatrician. My rational side thinks children develop at different speeds so I should try to relax. This side believes they are still young so, if there's a problem, at least it is being addressed at a young age. My irrational side thinks they are behind because I'm a bad mother and failing them! The ratio of rational to irrational fluctuates - right now it's 60% unstable and growing because Aunt Flo is approaching.
Compare, compare, compare. Ugh. Look at how much smarter, faster and better my child is than yours! I win at life!
God I am tired.
With twin toddlers, it takes a lot of effort on my part to get through the day. Well-rounded, nutritious finger foods, more milk less juice, playtime, safety first, naptime calmness, bathtime fun, routine, a little TV and a lot of books, clean diapers, and so on.
I save most of my worry for right before bed when my Melatonin-ed, Valerian root-ed, Benadryl-ed butt is supposed to be winding down. The other night I was Googling and found myself on a Baby Center page for Warning Signs of a Toddler's Language Delay. After reading a couple paragraphs I suddenly went into panic mode and quickly texted my husband (who was downstairs saving us all from brain-crazed zombies via Xbox One). Join me in the freak out dear husband of mine. Of course he's super rational and wanted to know why I was still awake, why I was Googling shit, who made this "stupid list" and, after I told him, "what the hell they knew."
My main worry with Baby A is he does not respond to his name. He does not talk and only recently started babbling (like a week or so). While he waves (wildly with both hands) and shakes his head (sometimes randomly), he does not point. He's uses the consonant B but only B (Ba sounds). I don't think he understands bye-bye but he might understand no (or he might be getting upset because I raised my voice). He does not point out things of interest. These are all listed under "By 12 Months." I won't even start on the "By 18 Months" list because there's so much he's already not doing.
Baby B says two words: "Dada" and "Gaga" (for light as he is obsessed with turning lights on and off around the house). He sometimes waves his hand (more like opening and closing his fist), does not shake his head but does point. He's been babbling for a while now. I don't know if he understands bye-bye but he does understand no, although he doesn't stop doing what he's doing. He points at things of interest but just started doing this recently.
Their 18-month wellness checkup is approaching so I plan to wait (two weeks) to bring my concerns up with their pediatrician. My rational side thinks children develop at different speeds so I should try to relax. This side believes they are still young so, if there's a problem, at least it is being addressed at a young age. My irrational side thinks they are behind because I'm a bad mother and failing them! The ratio of rational to irrational fluctuates - right now it's 60% unstable and growing because Aunt Flo is approaching.
Compare, compare, compare. Ugh. Look at how much smarter, faster and better my child is than yours! I win at life!
God I am tired.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
17 Month Old Fraternal Twins: Are My Toddlers Assholes?
"Toddlers Are Assholes." There are books, Facebook groups and online bitchfests based on this popular phrase. It makes me wonder ... are my toddlers assholes? What makes a person an asshole?
There's no rhyme or reason to one of my twins as he is a ticking time bomb. He is currently organizing his race cars on the windowsill and will, at any moment, throw them on the floor and scream while waving his arms manically. Why? I haven't the faintest idea.
He's often found stealing toys from his brother without any sign of remorse before quickly tossing them aside because he didn't want them in the first place. He dumps Legos on the floor after I clean them up (sometimes while I am cleaning them up), throws his sippy cup of milk and then screams for me to retrieve it, slaps me in the face (literally) and constantly complains. He gets frustrated easily and enjoys slapping or occasionally biting his brother when he doesn't get his way or, sometimes, as a way of playing. He needs constant attention and often does things he shouldn't repeatedly (mess with the air vent and take the safety plugs out of sockets). He throws toys behind the couch and complains. Cause and effect means nothing to him. When he's defiant he gives me a look resembling, "What the fuck are you going to do about it lady?" I am a stay-at-home mom yet he does not know the word "mama," only "dada" for his hero. If he cries in the middle of the night and I console him, it's no damn good. If his dad consoles him, it's just what the doctor ordered - this happened this morning at 5 a.m. when I went in first and could not stop the drama. Dad swooped in to the rescue and quieted him in 38 seconds.
His brother is mellow in comparison - as a mother of twins I can't help but compare. He likes to play alone and often can be found running back and forth across the playroom while excitedly screaming. However, he dislikes order and when there is too much food on his tray (ie more than one piece) he throws most of his meals on the floor but, as toddlers typically go, sometimes he doesn't and he eats like a civil toddler (whatever that means). He goes on attack mode when his brother attempts to organize toys on the windowsill and shakes his head back and forth when you try to feed him even if he wants said food item. He does not know any words and recently started babbling. He isn't high drama like his brother but he also isn't free from problems for dear old mom. Oh, and by the way, he grunts loudly and his face turns bright red when he poops. Not a good look.
They both enjoy ripping my glasses off my face throughout the day when I let my guard down. Are they assholes? What makes a person an asshole?
I think there is a great push away from the traditional idea of Mommy Dearest - this patient, kind woman who takes care of the kids, the home and has dinner on the table at 5:30 for dear old dad, all while wearing a lovely outfit with good hair and nice daytime makeup. She doesn't need time off because she adores this lifestyle. She is always last and doesn't complain because her glass is half full.
So, instead of a little different some mothers are going completely opposite. Let me let my hair down and bitch about my life. My kids suck, I give up and are letting them watch TV and eat junk food while I guzzle booze. My kids first word was fuck, lol rotfl omg "You're the reason mom drinks honey." My husband is lazy and doesn't do enough. These are the women who work AND who, come Sunday night, can't wait to go back to work because they can't stand their kids.
Now, I think it's healthy to vent, as I am in the form of blogging. My dramatic twin hit me in the face with a Nalgene bottle today. I cleaned five poop-filled diapers today - one smelled like a fish bowl that hadn't been cleaned for weeks. My sons don't appreciate me. When I notice on the baby monitor they are waking up from their nap I sigh because fun time is over. I'm no saint. One of my favorite times during the week is going alone to the grocery store on Sundays. However, if I dwell on the fact they act like assholes it makes me angrier when they are frustrating and I miss the times when they, lo and behold, act like sweet, little angels. So, I try to remind myself they aren't assholes, they are toddlers. I can bitch and moan, lose my temper and stress out but the boys will still be frustrated with life. They can't tell me what's wrong, they don't understand what's going on, they crave structure and a schedule because of this, blah blah blah. I need to work on patience and worrying about their asshole-ness is not going to help me become patient.
Dreading tomorrow isn't going to help me deal with tomorrow.
Yes, they act like assholes but without malicious intent. They shit their pants and complain when I change their diaper just as much as they would complain if I left them in it for hours. They get frustrated easily, they don't listen or follow directions, they don't appreciate me, it's always no damn good ... but that's what it is because they are 17 months old. I can't expect the impossible - it's not fair to me or them. Yeah, they act like assholes but they will continue to act like assholes whether I stress over it or not.
Let's say my problem child just took his snack, which I know he wants, and dumped it in his pack-n-play. He fusses and throws his bowl on the floor. Should I ignore him and post about it on Facebook so other moms commiserate and my horrible existence gets assurance? Or should I go over there, put the snack back in the bowl and help him eat it?
They're 17 months old and a fellow twin mom told me once they become easier and it gets better when they are around 4 years old. So, what ... am I supposed to be miserable and bitter for another two-and-a-half years? I still have to take care of them and deal with the drama whether I am positive or negative about it so why not try to be positive?
My game plan - try not to react to their asshole-ness. I'm imperfect and so is life but I can always try my best. I want to be somewhere between Trophy Mom and Asshole Mom because that's the best for everyone involved.
Are my toddlers assholes? No. They're toddlers.
UPDATE:
OK. So, my toddlers are now almost 2-and-a-half years old and I would like to officially retract my statements, especially referring to them not being assholes. Yes, if I were to find some damn free time and be able to read for pleasure and instead of reading Janet Evanovich, or something similarly simple, were to read a psychology book on children ages 2-4, I would understand why they act this way but honestly I don't care. Yes, I know they are just learning about the world and blah blah blah but they are complete assholes. They are irrational, they complain about the stupidest stuff - Baby A screamed hysterically because his brother had reached up and turned a light on in the car ... like come on dude, chill out! When I tell Baby B not to do something he looks at me and quickly does what he's not supposed to do because he knows Mama Bear is barreling down on him. But we can't yell, we can't react, we need to calmly show them the way of life. It's a lesson in insanity day after day. So, yes, toddlers are complete and utter assholes.
There's no rhyme or reason to one of my twins as he is a ticking time bomb. He is currently organizing his race cars on the windowsill and will, at any moment, throw them on the floor and scream while waving his arms manically. Why? I haven't the faintest idea.
He's often found stealing toys from his brother without any sign of remorse before quickly tossing them aside because he didn't want them in the first place. He dumps Legos on the floor after I clean them up (sometimes while I am cleaning them up), throws his sippy cup of milk and then screams for me to retrieve it, slaps me in the face (literally) and constantly complains. He gets frustrated easily and enjoys slapping or occasionally biting his brother when he doesn't get his way or, sometimes, as a way of playing. He needs constant attention and often does things he shouldn't repeatedly (mess with the air vent and take the safety plugs out of sockets). He throws toys behind the couch and complains. Cause and effect means nothing to him. When he's defiant he gives me a look resembling, "What the fuck are you going to do about it lady?" I am a stay-at-home mom yet he does not know the word "mama," only "dada" for his hero. If he cries in the middle of the night and I console him, it's no damn good. If his dad consoles him, it's just what the doctor ordered - this happened this morning at 5 a.m. when I went in first and could not stop the drama. Dad swooped in to the rescue and quieted him in 38 seconds.
His brother is mellow in comparison - as a mother of twins I can't help but compare. He likes to play alone and often can be found running back and forth across the playroom while excitedly screaming. However, he dislikes order and when there is too much food on his tray (ie more than one piece) he throws most of his meals on the floor but, as toddlers typically go, sometimes he doesn't and he eats like a civil toddler (whatever that means). He goes on attack mode when his brother attempts to organize toys on the windowsill and shakes his head back and forth when you try to feed him even if he wants said food item. He does not know any words and recently started babbling. He isn't high drama like his brother but he also isn't free from problems for dear old mom. Oh, and by the way, he grunts loudly and his face turns bright red when he poops. Not a good look.
They both enjoy ripping my glasses off my face throughout the day when I let my guard down. Are they assholes? What makes a person an asshole?
I think there is a great push away from the traditional idea of Mommy Dearest - this patient, kind woman who takes care of the kids, the home and has dinner on the table at 5:30 for dear old dad, all while wearing a lovely outfit with good hair and nice daytime makeup. She doesn't need time off because she adores this lifestyle. She is always last and doesn't complain because her glass is half full.
So, instead of a little different some mothers are going completely opposite. Let me let my hair down and bitch about my life. My kids suck, I give up and are letting them watch TV and eat junk food while I guzzle booze. My kids first word was fuck, lol rotfl omg "You're the reason mom drinks honey." My husband is lazy and doesn't do enough. These are the women who work AND who, come Sunday night, can't wait to go back to work because they can't stand their kids.
Now, I think it's healthy to vent, as I am in the form of blogging. My dramatic twin hit me in the face with a Nalgene bottle today. I cleaned five poop-filled diapers today - one smelled like a fish bowl that hadn't been cleaned for weeks. My sons don't appreciate me. When I notice on the baby monitor they are waking up from their nap I sigh because fun time is over. I'm no saint. One of my favorite times during the week is going alone to the grocery store on Sundays. However, if I dwell on the fact they act like assholes it makes me angrier when they are frustrating and I miss the times when they, lo and behold, act like sweet, little angels. So, I try to remind myself they aren't assholes, they are toddlers. I can bitch and moan, lose my temper and stress out but the boys will still be frustrated with life. They can't tell me what's wrong, they don't understand what's going on, they crave structure and a schedule because of this, blah blah blah. I need to work on patience and worrying about their asshole-ness is not going to help me become patient.
Dreading tomorrow isn't going to help me deal with tomorrow.
Yes, they act like assholes but without malicious intent. They shit their pants and complain when I change their diaper just as much as they would complain if I left them in it for hours. They get frustrated easily, they don't listen or follow directions, they don't appreciate me, it's always no damn good ... but that's what it is because they are 17 months old. I can't expect the impossible - it's not fair to me or them. Yeah, they act like assholes but they will continue to act like assholes whether I stress over it or not.
Let's say my problem child just took his snack, which I know he wants, and dumped it in his pack-n-play. He fusses and throws his bowl on the floor. Should I ignore him and post about it on Facebook so other moms commiserate and my horrible existence gets assurance? Or should I go over there, put the snack back in the bowl and help him eat it?
They're 17 months old and a fellow twin mom told me once they become easier and it gets better when they are around 4 years old. So, what ... am I supposed to be miserable and bitter for another two-and-a-half years? I still have to take care of them and deal with the drama whether I am positive or negative about it so why not try to be positive?
My game plan - try not to react to their asshole-ness. I'm imperfect and so is life but I can always try my best. I want to be somewhere between Trophy Mom and Asshole Mom because that's the best for everyone involved.
Are my toddlers assholes? No. They're toddlers.
UPDATE:
OK. So, my toddlers are now almost 2-and-a-half years old and I would like to officially retract my statements, especially referring to them not being assholes. Yes, if I were to find some damn free time and be able to read for pleasure and instead of reading Janet Evanovich, or something similarly simple, were to read a psychology book on children ages 2-4, I would understand why they act this way but honestly I don't care. Yes, I know they are just learning about the world and blah blah blah but they are complete assholes. They are irrational, they complain about the stupidest stuff - Baby A screamed hysterically because his brother had reached up and turned a light on in the car ... like come on dude, chill out! When I tell Baby B not to do something he looks at me and quickly does what he's not supposed to do because he knows Mama Bear is barreling down on him. But we can't yell, we can't react, we need to calmly show them the way of life. It's a lesson in insanity day after day. So, yes, toddlers are complete and utter assholes.
Monday, March 9, 2015
17 Month Old Fraternal Twins: You're The Reason Mommy Drinks
It's 2:30 p.m. on a Monday. I'm braless, in an unmatching outfit good enough to be smeared in avocado, boogers and tears. I am watching "Sesame Street" with one of my twins as he babbles, and eats strawberries and Goldfish. The "Me Am What I Am" episode featuring Cookie Monster and the youthful Mario Lopez, to be exact. I've seen this one four times, maybe more. The other twin is still napping.
Plans for the day - take a walk in the stroller because it's 55 degrees outside, a far cry from the snowy arctic we've been living in forever (really only a couple months). I'll love the fresh air and exercise, the twins will hate being restrained because they are toddlers yearning to toddle. The effort of putting on their shoes (which they hate) and jackets, getting the stroller, strapping them in and carrying the behemoth outside will be good for maybe a 15-minute walk if I'm lucky before the bitching and moaning is too much. You know the toddler whine? The long utterance lacking in pitch that erupts from their mouths every five minutes or so covering any horrible inconvenience from having their diaper changed to not being able to put two Duplo blocks together. One of the only noises known to man I cannot ignore. I just can't do it.
Then it's back home for running madly around their playroom until dinnertime while I clean up their toys over and over again, then bath, book reading and bed. Tomorrow's the same as yesterday. Hopefully as the weather warms my husband will help me take them places on the weekend for some change of pace and scenery. We have one car and I have two crazy toddlers without a fenced in yard so I can't get out during the week by myself with them.
If I were to write this in my online mom's group the consensus would be I deserve a glass of wine, maybe a few glasses. "You're the reason mommy drinks," is commonplace.
I love drinking. The escape, the warm feeling, the carefree, optimistic happiness. Day drinking on a Saturday is music to my ears. However, I can't drink.
I don't remember exactly when it happened - my best guess is a few months ago - but if I drink I will not sleep. Now, I take Benadryl, melatonin and Valerian root every night as sleep aids, otherwise I ain't getting any shut eye. So, adding alcohol makes you think I might sleep even better, right? I was a weekend drinker for a while but now I wake up around 1 a.m. and am awake until 4 or 5 a.m. if I drink.
Wait a second ... the other twin just woke up and is upset. I would be too if I napped for two hours in the middle of the day ... oh wait, no, I'd be on another planet because that would never happen ...
OK. So, for whatever reason I can't drink anymore. I've tried drinking earlier in the day, thinking it's something to do with my body digesting the sugars and blah blah blah science! I haven't figured it out yet but sometimes I don't wake up for such a long period of time if I drink a lot of water and stop drinking early.
Maybe it's a good thing? This past weekend I was in bed and asleep early each night, alcohol free. It's better for my mind and for my waist line too since I need to lose about 20 pounds so ... my sweatpants fit better?! No, I need to lose weight for the times I live among humans and my in-laws babysit because those happen often enough to keep me sane, God bless them.
So, should I shut my mouth and live this healthy, clean life free from alcohol? Or should I find a way to drink like the drinking earlier thing with added water?
Plans for the day - take a walk in the stroller because it's 55 degrees outside, a far cry from the snowy arctic we've been living in forever (really only a couple months). I'll love the fresh air and exercise, the twins will hate being restrained because they are toddlers yearning to toddle. The effort of putting on their shoes (which they hate) and jackets, getting the stroller, strapping them in and carrying the behemoth outside will be good for maybe a 15-minute walk if I'm lucky before the bitching and moaning is too much. You know the toddler whine? The long utterance lacking in pitch that erupts from their mouths every five minutes or so covering any horrible inconvenience from having their diaper changed to not being able to put two Duplo blocks together. One of the only noises known to man I cannot ignore. I just can't do it.
Then it's back home for running madly around their playroom until dinnertime while I clean up their toys over and over again, then bath, book reading and bed. Tomorrow's the same as yesterday. Hopefully as the weather warms my husband will help me take them places on the weekend for some change of pace and scenery. We have one car and I have two crazy toddlers without a fenced in yard so I can't get out during the week by myself with them.
If I were to write this in my online mom's group the consensus would be I deserve a glass of wine, maybe a few glasses. "You're the reason mommy drinks," is commonplace.
I love drinking. The escape, the warm feeling, the carefree, optimistic happiness. Day drinking on a Saturday is music to my ears. However, I can't drink.
I don't remember exactly when it happened - my best guess is a few months ago - but if I drink I will not sleep. Now, I take Benadryl, melatonin and Valerian root every night as sleep aids, otherwise I ain't getting any shut eye. So, adding alcohol makes you think I might sleep even better, right? I was a weekend drinker for a while but now I wake up around 1 a.m. and am awake until 4 or 5 a.m. if I drink.
Wait a second ... the other twin just woke up and is upset. I would be too if I napped for two hours in the middle of the day ... oh wait, no, I'd be on another planet because that would never happen ...
OK. So, for whatever reason I can't drink anymore. I've tried drinking earlier in the day, thinking it's something to do with my body digesting the sugars and blah blah blah science! I haven't figured it out yet but sometimes I don't wake up for such a long period of time if I drink a lot of water and stop drinking early.
Maybe it's a good thing? This past weekend I was in bed and asleep early each night, alcohol free. It's better for my mind and for my waist line too since I need to lose about 20 pounds so ... my sweatpants fit better?! No, I need to lose weight for the times I live among humans and my in-laws babysit because those happen often enough to keep me sane, God bless them.
So, should I shut my mouth and live this healthy, clean life free from alcohol? Or should I find a way to drink like the drinking earlier thing with added water?
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
16 Month Old Fraternal Twins: Chaos
I am perched on the arm of a cushionless couch in what used to be my formal dining room. Now this space is a gated community for two crazed old babies. Yes, old babies. They walk, they run, they eat regular food, they explore and seem childish yet they are still babies. Still shitting their pants, still helpless, still needing constant surveillance. The fun never stops.
I am a stay-at-home mom of two boys in the third week of their 16 months on Earth, as my Baby Center weekly email recently pointed out. They're rocking 2T/3T, eating adult food in high chairs, sipping on whole milk from sippy cups and napping once a day. They aren't talking, although one of them is deep in the babbles. They sleep all night and party all day, including jumping off the couch in the play room - don't worry, couch cushions are strategically placed for the inevitable.
Who am I? An invisible peacekeeper in a messy French braid, smeared glasses, (clean!) sweatpants and T-shirt, sans bra, about to embark on my third cup of coffee. I console, I clean, I feed, I wash, I hug, I turn on Sesame Street or the sound machine, I give. No Bon Bons or daytime TV in sight. After the 9 to 5, I switch from Mommy Dearest to Adoring Wife with whatever energy I have left. Some days are better than others but all days are long.
I'm invisible but ever present for consoling and reassurance. Today is the same as yesterday and tomorrow.
I am a stay-at-home mom of two boys in the third week of their 16 months on Earth, as my Baby Center weekly email recently pointed out. They're rocking 2T/3T, eating adult food in high chairs, sipping on whole milk from sippy cups and napping once a day. They aren't talking, although one of them is deep in the babbles. They sleep all night and party all day, including jumping off the couch in the play room - don't worry, couch cushions are strategically placed for the inevitable.
Who am I? An invisible peacekeeper in a messy French braid, smeared glasses, (clean!) sweatpants and T-shirt, sans bra, about to embark on my third cup of coffee. I console, I clean, I feed, I wash, I hug, I turn on Sesame Street or the sound machine, I give. No Bon Bons or daytime TV in sight. After the 9 to 5, I switch from Mommy Dearest to Adoring Wife with whatever energy I have left. Some days are better than others but all days are long.
I'm invisible but ever present for consoling and reassurance. Today is the same as yesterday and tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
11 Month Old Twin Fraternal Boys: Transitions, Purees to Solid
I am a stay-at-home mother of twin fraternal boys and am attempting to transition from purees. Ugh.
Before having them I wasn't a take-charge woman. When my husband and I did marriage counseling years ago (we were married in the Episcopal Church and it's mandatory before the big day) we took personality tests and the minister laughed at the results. He said I was extremely introverted and my husband was introverted so he was worried we'd never leave the house! Don't worry, we leave but we also enjoy our alone time.
My babies helped me become a better person and grow up. I learned so much about myself over the past 11 months and was forced to change my personality. Instead of being a "whatever you want to do honey" person, I have opinions! It took a bit for my husband to come to terms with this change but he's proud of me. Honestly, I'm not completely different, just a little more self-assertive but still unsure of myself.
With twins you have no time to dawdle. Time waits for no one and neither do twin boys. Not surprisingly, I am in the midst of more change as I near their first birthday. The great big milk transition. No more formula ladies and gentleman.
It sounded so dreamy, especially in the first few months. A life without formula. No more mixing, no more added rice cereal, no more giant grocery bill (although if you think about it ... organic milk ain't cheap with two kids). Now it's on the horizon, it's kind of scary. Their diet needs to consist of real food? Yikes. To further complicate matters, I recently got free samples of toddler formula in the mail. What the hell is this? More formula? So there's also the great toddler formula debate - do you or do you not? Does it help them grow or is this a way for them to milk more money out of my wallet with hype words like DHA.
Purees are so easy. I buy Gerber ... they're fine for the convenience. However, pretty soon I will be needing to buy fresh fruit and produce and serve it to my babies in a form they'll eat with their own hands! Yikes! Right now outside of purees they have cut up banana and cheese once a day, and yogurt, cheerios and rice crackers three times a day. It's just so easy when someone has already pureed the food for you. Also Baby B has recently learned a few new tricks, namely spitting food in my face and also spitting out food (usually the pureed meats) onto his hands and then running his hands through his hair. Geez, what do you do when you totally introduce food? Hose them down out back? Run them through the dishwasher? (Please don't call Child Protective Services. I would never do that ... although one time Baby B had an enormous blowout and I briefly thought about hosing him down).
Anyway, their pediatrician gave me a chart to follow with amounts of formula/breastmilk, cereal, vegetables, fruit, meat and grains they need each month from birth to 12 months - I follow this religiously (a nice way to say I have OCD). I also follow Dr. Sears, a pediatrician and author/co-author of more than 30 parenting books. In "The Baby Book," he lists starter foods and foods acceptable for each stage - i.e. 6-9 months, 9 to 12 months, 12-18 and so on. Sounds pretty easy, right? Well I'm uneasy and, frankly, stressing.
Maybe it's because Baby A had reflux issues out of the blue recently, especially when I didn't think reflux got worse at 9 months after being very manageable. I still tiptoe around the house after bedtime and wait for his cries or my husband to wake me up in the middle of the night because he's crying. So, I worry we may (or may not) have him under control and if I change their food then we will be back at square one.
Also I am a member of a twins group online and some of those women make me feel like my head will explode. The people who think their child has a food allergy when they eat something and don't like it or have trouble digesting food when a newborn. I learned the hard way the inside of babies bodies, namely the digestive system, is still maturing and it doesn't mean they are allergic to milk or your breastmilk is tainted because you had cauliflower for dinner. They were in your body for nine months getting exactly what they needed and now you are shoving milk and rice cereal down their throats. So just breathe.
It's also hard because a lot of mothering is instinctual. They are at the age where they can have mashed foods instead of purees but it depends on whether they are ready. Are they ready? I think so but then maybe they aren't or but maybe they are but then ... Being with them every day, putting them down for every nap, feeding them every meal, kissing every boo-boo, well it makes things seem longer than they are, it makes things seem almost endless but not endless. I have been doing the same schedule for so long that it's almost weird to change things up. Will the Earth stop spinning if they don't follow the schedule? Sometimes I feel it will.
Up in the morning, bottle with three scoops oatmeal/rice cereal, three scoops formula. Digest in activity chairs. Play in playyard until they have been awake for two hours then breakfast. Morning is cutup banana and cheese, handful Cheerios and rice cakes, six spoonfuls oatmeal, eight vegetable, six fruit, three meat and five yogurt. Sit in activity chair. Nap time. Wake up. Bottle, sit in activity chair. Play in playyard until the last one who woke from his nap has been awake for two hours. Lunch. Cheerios and rice cakes, same amount of everything else. Sit in activity chairs. Nap. Wake up. Bottle. If weather is nice go for a walk, if not play in playyard. Dinner, same as lunch. Bathtime then bottle. Sit in activity chair and read books. Goodnight.
I told this to my husband one day and he said, "No wonder you can't fall asleep at night."
Also my organic-loving sisters tell me babies don't need solids until 12 months so ... I guess for the past almost six months I've screwed their lives up! So many different opinions because every baby is so different. Very frustrating! Also, if I ask my husband he answers like he's just waiting for whatever I want to do because I'm in charge. I'm in charge? Why on Earth would anyone allow that?!
Before having them I wasn't a take-charge woman. When my husband and I did marriage counseling years ago (we were married in the Episcopal Church and it's mandatory before the big day) we took personality tests and the minister laughed at the results. He said I was extremely introverted and my husband was introverted so he was worried we'd never leave the house! Don't worry, we leave but we also enjoy our alone time.
My babies helped me become a better person and grow up. I learned so much about myself over the past 11 months and was forced to change my personality. Instead of being a "whatever you want to do honey" person, I have opinions! It took a bit for my husband to come to terms with this change but he's proud of me. Honestly, I'm not completely different, just a little more self-assertive but still unsure of myself.
With twins you have no time to dawdle. Time waits for no one and neither do twin boys. Not surprisingly, I am in the midst of more change as I near their first birthday. The great big milk transition. No more formula ladies and gentleman.
It sounded so dreamy, especially in the first few months. A life without formula. No more mixing, no more added rice cereal, no more giant grocery bill (although if you think about it ... organic milk ain't cheap with two kids). Now it's on the horizon, it's kind of scary. Their diet needs to consist of real food? Yikes. To further complicate matters, I recently got free samples of toddler formula in the mail. What the hell is this? More formula? So there's also the great toddler formula debate - do you or do you not? Does it help them grow or is this a way for them to milk more money out of my wallet with hype words like DHA.
Purees are so easy. I buy Gerber ... they're fine for the convenience. However, pretty soon I will be needing to buy fresh fruit and produce and serve it to my babies in a form they'll eat with their own hands! Yikes! Right now outside of purees they have cut up banana and cheese once a day, and yogurt, cheerios and rice crackers three times a day. It's just so easy when someone has already pureed the food for you. Also Baby B has recently learned a few new tricks, namely spitting food in my face and also spitting out food (usually the pureed meats) onto his hands and then running his hands through his hair. Geez, what do you do when you totally introduce food? Hose them down out back? Run them through the dishwasher? (Please don't call Child Protective Services. I would never do that ... although one time Baby B had an enormous blowout and I briefly thought about hosing him down).
Anyway, their pediatrician gave me a chart to follow with amounts of formula/breastmilk, cereal, vegetables, fruit, meat and grains they need each month from birth to 12 months - I follow this religiously (a nice way to say I have OCD). I also follow Dr. Sears, a pediatrician and author/co-author of more than 30 parenting books. In "The Baby Book," he lists starter foods and foods acceptable for each stage - i.e. 6-9 months, 9 to 12 months, 12-18 and so on. Sounds pretty easy, right? Well I'm uneasy and, frankly, stressing.
Maybe it's because Baby A had reflux issues out of the blue recently, especially when I didn't think reflux got worse at 9 months after being very manageable. I still tiptoe around the house after bedtime and wait for his cries or my husband to wake me up in the middle of the night because he's crying. So, I worry we may (or may not) have him under control and if I change their food then we will be back at square one.
Also I am a member of a twins group online and some of those women make me feel like my head will explode. The people who think their child has a food allergy when they eat something and don't like it or have trouble digesting food when a newborn. I learned the hard way the inside of babies bodies, namely the digestive system, is still maturing and it doesn't mean they are allergic to milk or your breastmilk is tainted because you had cauliflower for dinner. They were in your body for nine months getting exactly what they needed and now you are shoving milk and rice cereal down their throats. So just breathe.
It's also hard because a lot of mothering is instinctual. They are at the age where they can have mashed foods instead of purees but it depends on whether they are ready. Are they ready? I think so but then maybe they aren't or but maybe they are but then ... Being with them every day, putting them down for every nap, feeding them every meal, kissing every boo-boo, well it makes things seem longer than they are, it makes things seem almost endless but not endless. I have been doing the same schedule for so long that it's almost weird to change things up. Will the Earth stop spinning if they don't follow the schedule? Sometimes I feel it will.
Up in the morning, bottle with three scoops oatmeal/rice cereal, three scoops formula. Digest in activity chairs. Play in playyard until they have been awake for two hours then breakfast. Morning is cutup banana and cheese, handful Cheerios and rice cakes, six spoonfuls oatmeal, eight vegetable, six fruit, three meat and five yogurt. Sit in activity chair. Nap time. Wake up. Bottle, sit in activity chair. Play in playyard until the last one who woke from his nap has been awake for two hours. Lunch. Cheerios and rice cakes, same amount of everything else. Sit in activity chairs. Nap. Wake up. Bottle. If weather is nice go for a walk, if not play in playyard. Dinner, same as lunch. Bathtime then bottle. Sit in activity chair and read books. Goodnight.
I told this to my husband one day and he said, "No wonder you can't fall asleep at night."
Also my organic-loving sisters tell me babies don't need solids until 12 months so ... I guess for the past almost six months I've screwed their lives up! So many different opinions because every baby is so different. Very frustrating! Also, if I ask my husband he answers like he's just waiting for whatever I want to do because I'm in charge. I'm in charge? Why on Earth would anyone allow that?!
11 Month Old Fraternal Twin Boys: Reflux Rears Its Ugly Head
I haven't posted in over a month. I am a stay-at-home mom of 11-month-old fraternal twin boys. At the end of the day, I don't feel like blogging about my feelings so I have been a lazy writer lately. I've been dealing with some anxiety lately (my Melatonin, Valerian Root and Calms Forte cocktails no longer put me to sleep) so maybe this blog thing will help me relax.
Baby A has been having reflux issues since late July. Well, he's had silent reflux issues his entire, short life. As a newborn he would make a sour face when the acid came up, his brother would just constantly spit up like Niagara Falls. I've had them on Zantac for a long, long time (switching briefly to Prevacid but going back to Zantac after our insurance would not fork up the dough - it was over $500 a month). So, it was odd when he started having difficulty at night because he's never had difficulty.
I would never tell Baby B this but, honestly, if I had a singleton instead of twins and it was Baby A ... well ... I would be Michelle Duggar (minus the reality show and religion) because he is an easy baby. He only fusses when something is wrong, which isn't often, he eats well, burps well and entertains himself. He slept through the night at about three months or earlier and is a delight. On the other hand Baby B had colic, doesn't like when I leave the room, just recently stopped spitting up and is often fussy - don't get me wrong, I love the boys equally but the truth is the truth. So, when Baby A started screaming in the middle of the night I knew something was wrong.
I enjoy the saying, "Don't get happy," especially because we got happy. The boys were sleeping through the night ... about 7 p.m. to 6 a.m. or so. It was nice. We got used to it. So when Baby A woke up one night, a couple months ago, screaming, it was a shock, especially since he only cries when he is in pain, which isn't often. We thought it was gas so we tried the bicycle legs thing, we tried all sorts of things that you learn from Google at 1 a.m. The first time he cried for two hours. Then it was every other night or so, sometimes he'd go a week, sometimes two hours, sometimes 30 minutes. One time he did it in the middle of the afternoon after lunch so we assumed he'd been overfed.
Finally I noticed he made a swallowing sound and arched his back. After further research via Google we landed on reflux. We never considered this because during the day, especially during naps, he is fine. Also, we didn't think reflux would get worse over the months, we thought it would get better as they start eating solid-ish food and toddler-ing around. So, over the course of weeks, which felt like months, we tinkered with this and that, took him to the doctor and finally think things are OK.
I don't believe in absolutes so I don't think it's just reflux. I also believe mothering is a crapshoot. He also didn't want to go back in his bed and had a bit of separation anxiety/night waking going on. So, his doctor upped his dosage of Zantac (we learned as babies gain weight, their dosages typically need to be increased), elevated his bed with a pillow under one side of the mattress (close to 30 degrees), and we have him (and his brother) sit in their activity centers for 20-25 minutes after their last bottle of the day and before bed - I do bottle, breakfast, nap, bottle, lunch, nap, bottle, dinner, bottle, bedtime over the course of 12 hours, basically a bottle every four hours.
Is it a perfect solution? Who knows. I will be the first to admit defeat. You have to try different things and once you think you figured it out something else will change. Cest la vie.
Otherwise Baby A is a tall, skinny drink of water and laughs at everything with a nerdy "Revenge of the Nerds" style cackle.
Let's not forget about his brother. Baby B is a big boy! He's walking like Frankenstein around the play pen and suffers from separation anxiety during the day but is (knock on wood) a good sleeper at night. He doesn't enjoy when I leave the room and needs a lot more attention than his brother. He's a handful when it's just me putting them to bed (especially during bathtime and anytime I need to feed them bottles at the same time). However, he's growing and is a sweet little guy.
Baby A has been having reflux issues since late July. Well, he's had silent reflux issues his entire, short life. As a newborn he would make a sour face when the acid came up, his brother would just constantly spit up like Niagara Falls. I've had them on Zantac for a long, long time (switching briefly to Prevacid but going back to Zantac after our insurance would not fork up the dough - it was over $500 a month). So, it was odd when he started having difficulty at night because he's never had difficulty.
I would never tell Baby B this but, honestly, if I had a singleton instead of twins and it was Baby A ... well ... I would be Michelle Duggar (minus the reality show and religion) because he is an easy baby. He only fusses when something is wrong, which isn't often, he eats well, burps well and entertains himself. He slept through the night at about three months or earlier and is a delight. On the other hand Baby B had colic, doesn't like when I leave the room, just recently stopped spitting up and is often fussy - don't get me wrong, I love the boys equally but the truth is the truth. So, when Baby A started screaming in the middle of the night I knew something was wrong.
I enjoy the saying, "Don't get happy," especially because we got happy. The boys were sleeping through the night ... about 7 p.m. to 6 a.m. or so. It was nice. We got used to it. So when Baby A woke up one night, a couple months ago, screaming, it was a shock, especially since he only cries when he is in pain, which isn't often. We thought it was gas so we tried the bicycle legs thing, we tried all sorts of things that you learn from Google at 1 a.m. The first time he cried for two hours. Then it was every other night or so, sometimes he'd go a week, sometimes two hours, sometimes 30 minutes. One time he did it in the middle of the afternoon after lunch so we assumed he'd been overfed.
Finally I noticed he made a swallowing sound and arched his back. After further research via Google we landed on reflux. We never considered this because during the day, especially during naps, he is fine. Also, we didn't think reflux would get worse over the months, we thought it would get better as they start eating solid-ish food and toddler-ing around. So, over the course of weeks, which felt like months, we tinkered with this and that, took him to the doctor and finally think things are OK.
I don't believe in absolutes so I don't think it's just reflux. I also believe mothering is a crapshoot. He also didn't want to go back in his bed and had a bit of separation anxiety/night waking going on. So, his doctor upped his dosage of Zantac (we learned as babies gain weight, their dosages typically need to be increased), elevated his bed with a pillow under one side of the mattress (close to 30 degrees), and we have him (and his brother) sit in their activity centers for 20-25 minutes after their last bottle of the day and before bed - I do bottle, breakfast, nap, bottle, lunch, nap, bottle, dinner, bottle, bedtime over the course of 12 hours, basically a bottle every four hours.
Is it a perfect solution? Who knows. I will be the first to admit defeat. You have to try different things and once you think you figured it out something else will change. Cest la vie.
Otherwise Baby A is a tall, skinny drink of water and laughs at everything with a nerdy "Revenge of the Nerds" style cackle.
Let's not forget about his brother. Baby B is a big boy! He's walking like Frankenstein around the play pen and suffers from separation anxiety during the day but is (knock on wood) a good sleeper at night. He doesn't enjoy when I leave the room and needs a lot more attention than his brother. He's a handful when it's just me putting them to bed (especially during bathtime and anytime I need to feed them bottles at the same time). However, he's growing and is a sweet little guy.
Friday, August 1, 2014
Nine Month Old Fraternal Twin Boys: Embrace The Chaos
Life is funny when you are a stay-at-home mom of nine month old twins.
I was sitting here last night after the boys went to sleep (7 p.m. bedtime) thinking to myself wow, I haven't written a blog post in a really, really long time. In actuality, as I found out today, it's only been a month. Why on Earth did it feel like months upon months? It's because that's what this lifestyle will do to you.
Wake up around 6-6:30ish. My husband holds their wiggly bodies as I try to make bottles as quickly as possible. They eat then sit in their activity chairs while I make breakfast and my husband's lunch. He sets up The Octagon (North States Superyard gated play-thingy-ma-bob) before leaving for work. The boys and I play for a little (I'm referee) before Second Breakfast (baby food, oatmeal, yogurt). Then it's nap time for us three Bozos (yes, I nap too). Hopefully I can get about an hour, usually less, sometimes more. On those unfortunate days where one naps much longer than the other, our schedule is funky. Then it's repeat for bottles, activity chairs, Octagon, lunch, then nap time.
I try to keep to the schedule. Sometimes keeping them up a little longer, sometimes not. After their second nap it's bottles and play time then, if the weather is good, we go for a long walk (4-5 miles). Otherwise the elusive third nap is hard to come by because they love sleeping in their stroller, not so much their crib this late in the day.
Then it's dinner, bath time, bottle and bedtime for Bonzos at 7 p.m. In the back of my mind I hope they stay asleep.
Schedule, schedule, schedule - only mothers of multiples understand this I've come to find out.
The boys are in transition from baby food to solid food. We (as in me) started baby food at six months and slowly increased their intake every month (can you tell I'm a little meticulous? Wasn't before I had twins!). Now we were told (by the pediatrician) to buy the same foods they've been eating (sweet potatoes, peas, green beans, carrots, bananas, pears ... ) and cook them and/or mash them up so they are easier to eat.
Every few months I feel uneasy, as I do now. Just when I think I'm getting the hang of something, when I have a system down, when I'm feeling empowered, then change comes. It may be small, it may be large (like giving birth to twins!) but it comes and I must face it head on. They started sitting up, then crawling, then pulling themselves up, now they are hurling themselves forward trying to walk and using me as a jungle gym. Apparently every item in my home is something to chew on for them! "Hmm ... what is this thing? Can I chew on it? Oooo I can chew on it! Yum!" I am also under the sneaking suspicion they are constantly teething (Baby A has six teeth and Baby B is working on his seventh!).
However, it's all part of the process. Embrace the chaos. Embrace the chaos. Scream into a pillow during nap time. Embrace the chaos.
I was sitting here last night after the boys went to sleep (7 p.m. bedtime) thinking to myself wow, I haven't written a blog post in a really, really long time. In actuality, as I found out today, it's only been a month. Why on Earth did it feel like months upon months? It's because that's what this lifestyle will do to you.
Wake up around 6-6:30ish. My husband holds their wiggly bodies as I try to make bottles as quickly as possible. They eat then sit in their activity chairs while I make breakfast and my husband's lunch. He sets up The Octagon (North States Superyard gated play-thingy-ma-bob) before leaving for work. The boys and I play for a little (I'm referee) before Second Breakfast (baby food, oatmeal, yogurt). Then it's nap time for us three Bozos (yes, I nap too). Hopefully I can get about an hour, usually less, sometimes more. On those unfortunate days where one naps much longer than the other, our schedule is funky. Then it's repeat for bottles, activity chairs, Octagon, lunch, then nap time.
I try to keep to the schedule. Sometimes keeping them up a little longer, sometimes not. After their second nap it's bottles and play time then, if the weather is good, we go for a long walk (4-5 miles). Otherwise the elusive third nap is hard to come by because they love sleeping in their stroller, not so much their crib this late in the day.
Then it's dinner, bath time, bottle and bedtime for Bonzos at 7 p.m. In the back of my mind I hope they stay asleep.
Schedule, schedule, schedule - only mothers of multiples understand this I've come to find out.
The boys are in transition from baby food to solid food. We (as in me) started baby food at six months and slowly increased their intake every month (can you tell I'm a little meticulous? Wasn't before I had twins!). Now we were told (by the pediatrician) to buy the same foods they've been eating (sweet potatoes, peas, green beans, carrots, bananas, pears ... ) and cook them and/or mash them up so they are easier to eat.
Every few months I feel uneasy, as I do now. Just when I think I'm getting the hang of something, when I have a system down, when I'm feeling empowered, then change comes. It may be small, it may be large (like giving birth to twins!) but it comes and I must face it head on. They started sitting up, then crawling, then pulling themselves up, now they are hurling themselves forward trying to walk and using me as a jungle gym. Apparently every item in my home is something to chew on for them! "Hmm ... what is this thing? Can I chew on it? Oooo I can chew on it! Yum!" I am also under the sneaking suspicion they are constantly teething (Baby A has six teeth and Baby B is working on his seventh!).
However, it's all part of the process. Embrace the chaos. Embrace the chaos. Scream into a pillow during nap time. Embrace the chaos.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Eight Month Old Fraternal Twin Boys: Please Let Me Know If I've Gone Insane, Thanks
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!
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!
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.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Seven Month Old Fraternal Twins: Don't Give Up Hope
My sons are closing in on the eight-month mark. They are smiling, laughing, chatty little creatures who can crawl and roll and bring me more joy than I thought possible. They can also drive me nuts.
Case in point, they started waking up an hour earlier than usual.
Now, I want to get one thing clear. I understand some women have babies (or a baby) who don't sleep through the night for a long time. My sister complained her youngest didn't sleep through the night (I don't mean a five-hour stretch, I mean through the night) until she was a year old. Although I feel bad for parents who are still being woken up in the night, I have my own fish to fry. I have a hard time remembering things could be worse when I am tired and grouchy at 5 a.m. I don't see anything wrong with this. Over the past seven, almost eight, months I changed dramatically but that's one area I won't change.
My sons were sleeping from about 6:30-7 p.m. (sometimes 7:30) until 6 a.m. (we even had a 6:30 a.m. once!) I'd rather wake up naturally when my body decides I've rested long enough but I'll take the 6 a.m. because ... well ... I have to take it because it's my life. Over the past few days the boys started waking at 5 a.m. Nothing in their lives changed within the past few days.
Insert baby guessing game.
Instead of months ago when I was dealing with a colicy baby, the question moves from, "Why is my baby crying?" to "Why is my baby waking up earlier?" Growth spurt? Need more food? One baby is waking the other up? Karma for being a sarcastic smart ass? Why? Why? Why?
Thank God for sixth grade when I learned the scientific method. Before I freak out and give up let's take a moment and think. It's easy to react without thinking but I've learned when it comes to babies, it's smart to take a moment and think things through.
My children eat every three hours. When they wake up they're offered 8 ounces of formula and sometimes don't drink it all. Every three hours they are offered food, with a vegetable, fruit and oatmeal offered three times a day. How do I know this? I am a stay-at-home mom and am the one doing the offering. They go down for a nap in their cribs after being awake for two hours. Every night at 6 p.m. they are given a bath and their last food of the day before it's bedtime for Bonzo(s). Schedule, schedule, schedule!
So, I don't want to make a rookie mistake and change something dramatic right now. The only thing I can figure is they are hungry, hence the waking up earlier to feed. Instead of three spoonfuls of each food three times a day I am upping it to four. If that's too much then they won't eat as much formula. Now, my sister who I sometimes thinks believes she is Mother Nature in human form, advised me you don't really need to feed them baby food until they are a year old, breast is best. She don't have twins so me no care. My babies are off the charts for size and weight so they need more than formula and the food helps my spitter-upper not spit up so much.
We will see how it goes today and tomorrow morning with the extra food. All you can do is think things through and hope for the best!
Case in point, they started waking up an hour earlier than usual.
Now, I want to get one thing clear. I understand some women have babies (or a baby) who don't sleep through the night for a long time. My sister complained her youngest didn't sleep through the night (I don't mean a five-hour stretch, I mean through the night) until she was a year old. Although I feel bad for parents who are still being woken up in the night, I have my own fish to fry. I have a hard time remembering things could be worse when I am tired and grouchy at 5 a.m. I don't see anything wrong with this. Over the past seven, almost eight, months I changed dramatically but that's one area I won't change.
My sons were sleeping from about 6:30-7 p.m. (sometimes 7:30) until 6 a.m. (we even had a 6:30 a.m. once!) I'd rather wake up naturally when my body decides I've rested long enough but I'll take the 6 a.m. because ... well ... I have to take it because it's my life. Over the past few days the boys started waking at 5 a.m. Nothing in their lives changed within the past few days.
Insert baby guessing game.
Instead of months ago when I was dealing with a colicy baby, the question moves from, "Why is my baby crying?" to "Why is my baby waking up earlier?" Growth spurt? Need more food? One baby is waking the other up? Karma for being a sarcastic smart ass? Why? Why? Why?
Thank God for sixth grade when I learned the scientific method. Before I freak out and give up let's take a moment and think. It's easy to react without thinking but I've learned when it comes to babies, it's smart to take a moment and think things through.
My children eat every three hours. When they wake up they're offered 8 ounces of formula and sometimes don't drink it all. Every three hours they are offered food, with a vegetable, fruit and oatmeal offered three times a day. How do I know this? I am a stay-at-home mom and am the one doing the offering. They go down for a nap in their cribs after being awake for two hours. Every night at 6 p.m. they are given a bath and their last food of the day before it's bedtime for Bonzo(s). Schedule, schedule, schedule!
So, I don't want to make a rookie mistake and change something dramatic right now. The only thing I can figure is they are hungry, hence the waking up earlier to feed. Instead of three spoonfuls of each food three times a day I am upping it to four. If that's too much then they won't eat as much formula. Now, my sister who I sometimes thinks believes she is Mother Nature in human form, advised me you don't really need to feed them baby food until they are a year old, breast is best. She don't have twins so me no care. My babies are off the charts for size and weight so they need more than formula and the food helps my spitter-upper not spit up so much.
We will see how it goes today and tomorrow morning with the extra food. All you can do is think things through and hope for the best!
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Seven Month Old Twins: To Drink Or Not To Drink, That Is The Question
I am a stay-at-home mother of seven month old twins. After putting my babies to bed around 7-7:30, a drink sounds good. It sounds really good. Alas, I don't often partake because it doesn't help.
At the beginning of my pregnancy I missed alcohol. I was a bit of a weekend wino pre-baby and the thought of no alcohol for nine months was daunting. However, after a few months my cravings went from Pinot Noir to food, food, food. I was interested in eating and sleeping.
After giving birth to twins last October - I still find this hard to believe - I had a beer once after breastfeeding and it did not help my post partum depression, which I wasn't aware I was suffering from. After dealing with my issues, with the help of a supportive family and Zoloft, I was back sans anti-depressants but with a taste for Chardonnay. I had a glass or two every night. It was helpful for the hour or so I consumed them, especially after long days, but wasn't so helpful afterwards when my sleep was affected.
In an attempt to support my weight loss regime, I switched from wine to vodka tonics. I didn't think I could go without alcohol because being a mother of twins is the hardest thing I have ever done. Again, same scenario. Helped me relax for an hour or two but then it didn't help my sleep.
Now, here I sit in the land of Live-And-Learn-Twin-Parenting and I don't drink during the week. Yes, I'm still tired in the morning but I try to get out for a walk with the boys or a run solo to help my stress level. I know it's better for me and better for the boys. On the weekend I might have one or two drinks a night but that's about my limit. Sometimes I slip up and have a drink during the week but it isn't often.
The mix of drinking and parenting is similar to parenting itself. My children are different from your children and I need to find out, often the hard way, what works for them. Some mothers have a glass or two of booze a night and it helps them. That's great! I'm happy for all the good mamas out there getting time to relax because we deserve it! Some mothers don't partake. That's great too! To each their own but think about what's best for you and best for your child.
Yes, I could use a drink right now but instead I'm going to bed. The boys and I went for a 5-mile walk today and I feel pretty good. Do I feel great? No! I'm a stay-at-home mom of twin babies who are on the move. However, I feel OK and that works for me!
I'm sure in a few months or a year I will return to a glass of wine a night, when things aren't as stressful. Key word is as because it will always be stressful. However, right now the boys need my full and undivided attention and often need me during the night once or twice. It's hard to believe, and especially hard to remember, they are changing every day. They will one day, sooner than later, play together and not need me to constantly feed, burp, soothe and keep them from danger. Mind boggling.
At the beginning of my pregnancy I missed alcohol. I was a bit of a weekend wino pre-baby and the thought of no alcohol for nine months was daunting. However, after a few months my cravings went from Pinot Noir to food, food, food. I was interested in eating and sleeping.
After giving birth to twins last October - I still find this hard to believe - I had a beer once after breastfeeding and it did not help my post partum depression, which I wasn't aware I was suffering from. After dealing with my issues, with the help of a supportive family and Zoloft, I was back sans anti-depressants but with a taste for Chardonnay. I had a glass or two every night. It was helpful for the hour or so I consumed them, especially after long days, but wasn't so helpful afterwards when my sleep was affected.
In an attempt to support my weight loss regime, I switched from wine to vodka tonics. I didn't think I could go without alcohol because being a mother of twins is the hardest thing I have ever done. Again, same scenario. Helped me relax for an hour or two but then it didn't help my sleep.
Now, here I sit in the land of Live-And-Learn-Twin-Parenting and I don't drink during the week. Yes, I'm still tired in the morning but I try to get out for a walk with the boys or a run solo to help my stress level. I know it's better for me and better for the boys. On the weekend I might have one or two drinks a night but that's about my limit. Sometimes I slip up and have a drink during the week but it isn't often.
The mix of drinking and parenting is similar to parenting itself. My children are different from your children and I need to find out, often the hard way, what works for them. Some mothers have a glass or two of booze a night and it helps them. That's great! I'm happy for all the good mamas out there getting time to relax because we deserve it! Some mothers don't partake. That's great too! To each their own but think about what's best for you and best for your child.
Yes, I could use a drink right now but instead I'm going to bed. The boys and I went for a 5-mile walk today and I feel pretty good. Do I feel great? No! I'm a stay-at-home mom of twin babies who are on the move. However, I feel OK and that works for me!
I'm sure in a few months or a year I will return to a glass of wine a night, when things aren't as stressful. Key word is as because it will always be stressful. However, right now the boys need my full and undivided attention and often need me during the night once or twice. It's hard to believe, and especially hard to remember, they are changing every day. They will one day, sooner than later, play together and not need me to constantly feed, burp, soothe and keep them from danger. Mind boggling.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Seven Month Old Fraternal Twin Boys: Blame Everything On Teething
I don't know how many weeks old my sons are and months are easier than weeks so ... they are between seven and eight months. Good enough? Better be because I'm tired. I go to bed before 10 p.m. and typically wake up around 6 a.m. with the help of Melatonin and Calms Forte (google it because it rocks) yet I am tired. Tired, tired, tired.
Taking care of twins is exhausting, no matter the age. Today they woke up at 7 a.m. but I still got up at 6-6:30ish (not a morning person so don't remember the time). I was restless until they arose because I knew they would get up soon and also wondered if they were dead because sleeping from 7:30 p.m. to 7 a.m. sounded too picture perfect to me. Alas they were asleep and I'm stressed out but I've learned it doesn't matter much how I'm feeling because two babies still need food, love, attention and structure.
So, downstairs we went for food, play, nap, repeat. They went to bed around 7 p.m. tonight after violently protesting me putting clothes on them after their bath. I don't know why but they don't like having clothes put on after their bath ... maybe because they know what's coming next (falling asleep on the bottle).
I noticed lately any time one of them fusses or seems tired or unhappy I blame it on teething. When I speak to my mother, my m-i-l or husband, they blame it on teething. Baby A has a temperature ... he's teething. Baby B is restless ... he's teething. Heaven forbid they actually have something else wrong with them because I will think it's teething!
It's comforting to believe it's teething because otherwise you'll go crazy trying to figure out what's wrong. The boys eat formula with pureed fruits, vegetables and oatmeal three times a day. They roll over and Baby B is trying to crawl. Instead of crawling he gets on all fours and hurls himself forward. Baby A is more Lieutenant Dan from "Goodwill Hunting" because he crawls forward as if his legs don't work.
Onward and upward!
Taking care of twins is exhausting, no matter the age. Today they woke up at 7 a.m. but I still got up at 6-6:30ish (not a morning person so don't remember the time). I was restless until they arose because I knew they would get up soon and also wondered if they were dead because sleeping from 7:30 p.m. to 7 a.m. sounded too picture perfect to me. Alas they were asleep and I'm stressed out but I've learned it doesn't matter much how I'm feeling because two babies still need food, love, attention and structure.
So, downstairs we went for food, play, nap, repeat. They went to bed around 7 p.m. tonight after violently protesting me putting clothes on them after their bath. I don't know why but they don't like having clothes put on after their bath ... maybe because they know what's coming next (falling asleep on the bottle).
I noticed lately any time one of them fusses or seems tired or unhappy I blame it on teething. When I speak to my mother, my m-i-l or husband, they blame it on teething. Baby A has a temperature ... he's teething. Baby B is restless ... he's teething. Heaven forbid they actually have something else wrong with them because I will think it's teething!
It's comforting to believe it's teething because otherwise you'll go crazy trying to figure out what's wrong. The boys eat formula with pureed fruits, vegetables and oatmeal three times a day. They roll over and Baby B is trying to crawl. Instead of crawling he gets on all fours and hurls himself forward. Baby A is more Lieutenant Dan from "Goodwill Hunting" because he crawls forward as if his legs don't work.
Onward and upward!
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Almost Seven Month Old Fraternal Twin Boys: Advice From Others, Do Your Thing Mama
My sons will be seven months old Thursday. It's been a wild ride and there's way off. Pessimistic? Probably. It's OK to not be happy-go-lucky June Cleaver-ish. I tried to be Super Homemaker and ended up partially insane but with a clean home and semi-happy babies. Now I'm going for a mix of June Cleaver and Peg Bundy (Katey Sagal never ages!). I will clean, make meals and take care of my children while enjoying the Bon Bons of the world from time to time. Some days the house will be cleaner than others and that's OK.
I love my boys. I can't describe the feeling when they see my face and smile, to watch them grow and learn new things (Baby B is attempting to crawl, aka hurl his body forward while on all fours), to listen to them babble as if I understood their sounds ... it's amazing and draining.
My last post brought criticism. It was suggested I eat well and sleep more because my health is more important than checking e-mails and writing updates. Whoa lady, back your truck up because I don't agree.
I eat healthy - I weigh my food and only eat lean protein, fruits, vegetables, nuts and grain. I have a couple cheat meals on the weekend. I get in bed around 8:30-9 p.m. every night after taking a Melatonin and my babies typically sleep until 6 a.m. I only have a couple drinks on the weekend. I drink 3-4 cups of coffee a day. I'm tired most of the time because twin childcare is exhausting.
However, all you mamas out there, listen up! It's important to sneak in time for yourself throughout the day. Do things you enjoy! I check my e-mail a few times, possibly Facebook, watch trashy TV (I watch "Days Of Our Lives"), and play Scramble With Friends. I write blog entries to help twin moms because I felt very alone while pregnant and during the first few months but also to vent my frustrations.
I know to many people I am and will be for many years to come Baby A and Baby B's mom but to my friends and family I am me. I handle stress the same way and enjoy the same things as before I have my boys. Am I supposed to ignore that and eat, sleep, breath twins? How is that healthy? It's important to have something to enjoy when the babies are napping or sleeping or are content. It keeps you sane.
I'm never going to be June Cleaver. My hobbies won't be needlepoint, cake decorating and arranging tea roses and I won't wear elegant outfits with perfect hair and makeup while serving my family extravagant dinners in a spotless dining room. I don't want to be her. I will make meals for my family and take care of the home but I won't let it consume my life. Happy mommy, happy babies!
I love my boys. I can't describe the feeling when they see my face and smile, to watch them grow and learn new things (Baby B is attempting to crawl, aka hurl his body forward while on all fours), to listen to them babble as if I understood their sounds ... it's amazing and draining.
My last post brought criticism. It was suggested I eat well and sleep more because my health is more important than checking e-mails and writing updates. Whoa lady, back your truck up because I don't agree.
I eat healthy - I weigh my food and only eat lean protein, fruits, vegetables, nuts and grain. I have a couple cheat meals on the weekend. I get in bed around 8:30-9 p.m. every night after taking a Melatonin and my babies typically sleep until 6 a.m. I only have a couple drinks on the weekend. I drink 3-4 cups of coffee a day. I'm tired most of the time because twin childcare is exhausting.
However, all you mamas out there, listen up! It's important to sneak in time for yourself throughout the day. Do things you enjoy! I check my e-mail a few times, possibly Facebook, watch trashy TV (I watch "Days Of Our Lives"), and play Scramble With Friends. I write blog entries to help twin moms because I felt very alone while pregnant and during the first few months but also to vent my frustrations.
I know to many people I am and will be for many years to come Baby A and Baby B's mom but to my friends and family I am me. I handle stress the same way and enjoy the same things as before I have my boys. Am I supposed to ignore that and eat, sleep, breath twins? How is that healthy? It's important to have something to enjoy when the babies are napping or sleeping or are content. It keeps you sane.
I'm never going to be June Cleaver. My hobbies won't be needlepoint, cake decorating and arranging tea roses and I won't wear elegant outfits with perfect hair and makeup while serving my family extravagant dinners in a spotless dining room. I don't want to be her. I will make meals for my family and take care of the home but I won't let it consume my life. Happy mommy, happy babies!
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