MOTHERHOOD: ON HAVING TWINS (and a toddler)

5 May 2016

Let me just start by saying: I never EVER thought twins were in my future. The thought was not even a blip on my radar. The thought wasn’t a blip on anyone’s radar – fraternal twins don’t run on either side of the family. But here I am, a genetic mutant, with b/g twins.

And I must admit, I never wanted twins. It took me many months of an ever growing belly to warm up to the idea. And only now, 9 weeks postpartum, have I accepted and grown to love the idea. But now, it’s not just an idea, it is my reality, and one that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

It isn’t easy though (and I definitely never expected it to be!). Every day I wake up and immediately remind myself that I am only one person. With the twins, I feel so guilty when I am holding one and not the other. Or when one gets more breast milk than the other (I’ve had to supplement more and more), or when both are crying when I have to tend to the toddler. Or when I have to tend to the twins and not the toddler. Or when I put the toddler in front of the TV (Daniel Tiger is my saving grace) just to get a moment of peace. The list goes on and on. But I am not Super Mom, as much as I want or try to be, and the best I can do is know that I am doing my best. So when panic creeps in as I try to prepare and sit my toddler down for lunch as the babies are screaming for their own, I have to take a deep breath and realize that I am not destroying my child’s chance at Life by allowing them to cry a little.

JUST BREATHE.

Every day is a feat and at the end of it, I feel like I have conquered the world because I have kept 3 kids and myself alive, and throughout the day we all even managed to smile more than once. The house is never quiet or clean. I am rarely showered or clean. But I always manage to get dressed, put on a little makeup, eat breakfast (lunch is still up in the air), and enjoy a sometimes semi-warm cup of coffee. And on good days (like today) I even manage to get a little work done. It’s hectic and exhausting and beautiful.

I read a blog post recently that really struck a chord with me. In fact, I cried. Because this stage of life IS hard. I mean, really, really hard. And it’s not just a twin thing, it’s a motherhood thing. We all find ourselves in the trenches at some point – many points – throughout this journey. Sometimes it’s hard not to wish away this phase or that phase (I can’t wait until they have better neck control, I can’t wait until they can hold their own bottle, I can’t wait until they start sleeping though the night, I can’t wait until they become more aware of the world, I can’t wait until they are all old enough to play together, etc. etc.). But at the same time, we have to constantly remind ourselves that this is ONLY a phase – when Life becomes so overwhelming with a laundry list of to-do’s and don’t do’s and monotonous routines and constant chaos and a bombardment of questions and demands and screams and cries and screams and cries…it’s hard to remember that this too shall pass. And when it does, you will miss it. Tremendously.

It’s the stage where your kids love you more than they are ever going to love you again, for the whole rest of your life. It’s the stage where they can fit their entire selves into your lap to snuggle…and they want to. It’s the stage where their biggest problems are ear infections and teething and stomach viruses, and you’re not having to deal yet with things like broken hearts or addiction or bullying…

So yeah, right now, in this moment, Life is hard. Like, really, really hard. But it’s also so simple and so beautiful and so right.

So to all you amazing, beautiful, hard-working, and imperfect mothers out there – you have the hardest job in the world, and you’re doing great. But when you’re having a shitty day, a shitty week, or even a shitty month, just remember that this too shall pass, and as hard as it may be to think outside of the moment, one day this moment (vomit, poopy diapers, ear-piercing shrieks, and all) will be missed. So enjoy as best you can, and HAPPY MOTHERS’ DAY!!

MOTHER TO MOTHER: WWMD (What Would Mom Do?)

20 May 2015

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With a year and a half of motherhood now under my belt, I have learned to appreciate my own mother so much more than I ever have. Not that I didn’t appreciate her, I always have, but I am quickly realizing how much a mother loves, worries, and is willing to sacrifice for a child – and she had 3! In this day and age, it’s hard NOT to worry. With the media constantly barraging us with horror stories of the every day death trap, fear mongering has become the accepted norm. I’ve read a dozen articles about mothers getting arrested for allowing their own children to walk alone to the park (free-range parenting). I’ve heard mothers judging other mothers for not hovering enough – what if he falls and scrapes a knee! I’ve seen parents stressing over which side of the car is the safest to (properly!) install a car seat (ahem, that would be ME). I’ve even had terrible thoughts about some kind of freak accident happening to my own son while he’s running around with my keys or a stick or a crayon. But there is a point in which we all need to take a step back and ask ourselves “what would mom do?” Because 50 years ago, parents were so much more likely to let their children be, well, children.

Mother-and-Child-Laughing-on-Beach

My mother loves telling me stories about when she was little. Her car seat consisted of a metal bar and more often than not, her and her siblings were rolling around in the back of the car playing “I spy” – or wrestling. An older friend of mine recently told me that when she was young, her parents took out the middle seats of their VW and stuck in a playpen for the kids to roll around in on long drives. Not that I’m advocating these things – I am perfectly happy with my properly installed, rear-facing car seat – but such stories can teach us an important lesson: to fear less and live more.

Even when I was young, at 7 or 8, I would take off on my bike and let the wind take me wherever it would go. I would leave the house in the morning, pop back in for an afternoon lunch, and head back out until dusk. I would play in creeks, catch frogs, build forts, climb trees, knock down wasps nests, make dandelion salads (that I sometimes actually ate), run amok in the woods, and feel alive all the while. I was told not to cross highways or play on train tracks or go too deep into the woods or climb too high a tree, and I was given the freedom to play within those boundaries. Allowing your child to have some semblance of independence and responsibility isn’t a bad thing – it teaches them to be independent and responsible. And sometimes someone did get hurt. A broken arm or leg, a stubbed toe, stitches, a black eye, a wasp sting. It would hurt, sometimes we would pay the price for our independence, and it taught us about consequence.

I fear every minute of every day that something terrible may happen to my son – I think that’s simply a part of being a mother. But I shouldn’t allow my fears to get in the way of my child having a fun and carefree childhood. Like I did. Like my mother did. I’m not going to stop him from chasing my dogs with a stick because “it could poke his eye out.” I’m not going to stop letting him explore the garden because he could trip over a stone, or play in the dirt because a bug could bite him. I’m going to let him climb and play and run and explore because that what a kid should do and I don’t want him to fear the world.

That’s my job.

I know all too well the dangers that are out there. I’m going to fear and hold his hand and hover. And then I am going to ask myself, “what would mom do?” And, after a few minutes of an epic internal battle, I’m going to let him go.

Please note: This is NOT free-range parenting vs. helicopter parenting since I think most of us fall somewhere in-between. It’s important to be wise, set boundaries, and understand the limitations of your child (my kid, for example, is not yet 2 so “letting him go” is pretty limited) but it is also think it’s important to let a kid be a kid (I’m going to try to hover less at the playground as he makes his way across the bridge and down the slide, but I am not going to let him run into the construction zone next door to ogle at all the “big tucks!”).

What stories has your mother told you about her childhood? And do they make you think twice about how you raise your own child?