Parenting Theories

I certainly wouldn't say that Charlotte and Gavin are difficult children. But I also wouldn't say they are particularly easy, either. I only have my nephews for comparison, but I think Charlotte and Gavin have their good days and their bad. Nighttime and naptimes continue to be struggles, despite using the cry-it-out method, schedules, then no schedules, etc... They still have trouble amusing themselves on their own, too, so sometimes they can get pretty cranky. Inconsistent sleep habits might have something to do with the crankiness. But they eat well, and they seem generally happy, and they sleep well enough, mostly.

I spoke to some other mothers at my Twin Club meeting tonight. One has 3-month old twins, and the other 13-month olds. They made parenting twins sound like the simplest thing ever. "I swear, they were sleeping through the night since they came home. Sometimes I'm still laying in bed at 10am thinking, shouldn't they be up by now?" said the mother of the 3-month olds. The other mother agreed that sometimes she has to wake her children up in the morning because they sleep so late. And then, of course, the children are just lovely for the remainder of the day. Are they serious? Do children like that exist?

I have a few theories on this:
1. They're lying. Lately I've been thinking that there are mothers out there who make everything out to be easier than it actually is. I'm not sure why they feel they have to do this. Do they think people will think less of them if they admit that parenting is hard? I'm sure this has something to do with societal views of women and mothers, but it makes my head hurt just to think about it, so I'm going to leave the theorizing to someone else.

2. My twins are really more difficult than I thought. Maybe everyone else's babies are average, and mine are crankier and more sleep-deprived than most.

3. Perhaps my twins are just as difficult/easy as theirs, but these other women can simply deal with it better than I can. I am very very Type-A, so when my kids are rubbing their eyes and tired, then they should be sleeping, dammit. And when they are not doing what I think they should be doing, I get all flustered. Maybe these other ladies are more flexible, and can roll with an unscheduled day better than I.

I have a feeling the answer lies somewhere between Theory 1 and 3. They may be glossing over things a little, but may also be a bit more laidback. It doesn't matter--I still wanted to wring their necks.

Books and Sports...Really, What Else is There?

Ever since the twins were born, Michael and I have been daydreaming about hypothetical moments we will one day share with them. Since I am an elementary school teacher and *almost* a Reading Specialist (blame it on the preemies...they came when I was two classes short of my degree), I have had visions of cuddling under the covers with Charlotte and Gavin, reading The Tale of Despereaux or The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles and stopping for the night just before we get to the good part, despite their protests. I've always felt that Charlotte will be a Book Worm like her mother, especially since I chose her name from the first book I ever loved, Charlotte's Web.

Michael has different dreams for Gavin. Since Michael was a running back in high school and still plays on a flag football team today, he can hardly wait to toss a ball around with Gavin. Even when the babies were in utero, Michael was trying to talk to Gavin about his first love (no, not me...sports).

Here's what I love about raising kids: every preconceived notion you have about what parenting is going to be like is shattered the moment that little person(s) is born. Every plan you have for raising your child is modified in a way that you probably would never have imagined. And today I had to smile when the twins reminded me of that!

Here's Charlotte, crushing all gender stereotypes by playing with her beloved ball. I'm almost certain her first word will either be "ball" or "Gavin," since those seem to be the two things she's most interested in. And she already plays a mean game of catch!

And here's Gavin, melting his mother's heart by closely studying nearly every board book we own. To hell with your preconceived notions, Momma!

Who Says Romance is Dead?

Michael and I went out to dinner last week, alone, for only the second time since the babies were born last March. Sad, I know. As we were eating and talking, I realized that the bulk of our conversation was solely about the babies. When we thought they would finally crawl, why Gavin's diaper keeps leaking night after night, how we're going to swing daycare for two when I go back to work in September, what the theme should be at their first birthday party--you get the idea. I began wondering: "Who are these two? What has become of us? I remember the day when we would stay out on weekends until 2 am, and now I'm happiest if I'm in bed by 9! And we would discuss all manner of things without the slightest mention of diapers or sippy cups!"

So on Saturday night I finally took the advice of the countless parenting magazines and websites I've read. I decided we needed a "date night" at home after the babies went to bed. First, I should let you know that the babies decided not to cooperate. I think they knew something was up...they have a little baby-sixth-sense that way. I wanted to at least get out of my sweatpants and maybe even put on a little mascara for our date, but by the time we finally got the babies to sleep, our dinner was practically cold. I decided just to wear my pearls, which looked very stylish with my sweats and all...but that was really all I had time for. Michael thought that was pretty funny.

Anyway, we used our china for the first time in our entire marriage, and drank champagne. (Sidebar: Does anyone actually ever use their china? I'm going to make an effort to use it once a month). We dined on lemon-butter tilapia, sesame-roasted asparagus, and rice pilaf (I'm not ashamed to tell you that the rice was out of a box). We decided not to talk about babies, which frankly, left very little to talk about. Which is why this date night was so important; I think we need to reconnect on other levels.

Afterwards, in keeping with the theme, we decided to rent a movie. Our choice was The Bourne Supremecy, and I'm sorry to tell you that we both fell asleep halfway through. What exciting lives we lead.

The Healing Power of Touch

I had a massage on Saturday. It was a gift from two of my sisters for my birthday, and Lordy, did I need it. It was only the second massage I've ever had--unless you count the time Michael and I had a "Couples Massage" in Negril. (That massage was outdoors, in an open-air gazebo that happened to be on a nude beach, atop a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was incredibly picturesque, but I was feeling uncomfortable about disrobing in front of the 100 or so other beach-goers. I also had a few cocktails the night before, so I was feeling a little...queasy. And I had just read an article about how some people believe that, if your masseuse is in a bad or negative mood during your massage, they can steal your positive "chi." I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I was naked and queasy, so I knew I didn't want my positive chi stolen. So about 5 minutes into the hour-long massage I told the masseuse I wasn't feeling well, got dressed, and went to lie down in our hotel room. Of course, Michael stayed for the entire hour, and of course, I was charged for the entire hour.)

All that aside, this massage was pure heaven. I felt so calm and relaxed afterwards, and it got me thinking about other things that make me feel that way. A happy baby (better yet, two happy babies). Soaking in the hot tub. A nice glass of red wine. A hot cup of peppermint mocha. Girls' Night Out. A good shoe sale.

I think a challenge as a mother is how to get yourself to that point, a calm and centered place, as often as you can. Ultimately, I think you become a better mother for it, and a better person for that matter. I'm not big on resolutions (I hate the New Year and all it entails, but that's another post), but I think this year I'm at least going to try to focus on activities that help me attain that calm, relaxed state. So if you see me stressing, help a sista out! Let me know some of your tricks that relax and center you.

You Can Take the SAHM Out of the Kitchen...

The past two weekends I've had an opportunity to get dressed up; first for a friend's 30th birthday party, and then for another friend's wedding. It was a welcomed change, since I rarely wear makeup or style my hair anymore...there's just no time...and my standard uniform lately consists of sweats and a baggy t-shirt. At the wedding, a friend kept commenting to me: "You look really good. I mean, I don't want to sound weird, but you look radiant." (Thanks, D).



Alas, despite all my efforts, I still manage to bring little pieces of home with me. Observe the splotch of pureed sweet potato on my dressed-to-impress designer jeans:


At the party, after this photo was taken, a friend pointed out even more sweet potato. Oh, well.

Two is Enough!

Sometimes, when I have both babies downstairs with me, and I'm very tired, I swear I hear another baby crying in the house. And for a split-second, I think, "Well, I guess the other baby is awake. I should go get him/her."

That's when I close my eyes and thank my lucky stars that I have twins, not triplets.

Guilty Pleasures, Take 2

This list was so much fun, I actually thought of more:

Dr. Phil
So pompous, I love it.

Kohr's Brothers Vanilla and Chocolate Twist Ice Cream Cone with Rainbow Jimmies
Worth the weight.

Blogging
Perhaps the time would be better spent folding onesies, but this definitely centers me.

Reading Old Love Letters
When I spend my day with spit-up and mashed banana on my shirt, it's nice to know that someone once thought I was sexy.

Way-Too-Expensive Beauty Products
When I spend my day with spit-up and mashed banana on my shirt, it's nice to know that I might one day be sexy again.

Give and Take

You know how life is supposed to be about give-and-take? Lately, I feel like I'm all "give." The babies are little, so they can't help how needy they are right now. I'm sure I'll get my share of "take" from them later when they are able to reciprocate more than a smile. But boy, at this stage, I couldn't be giving any more of myself...and since I'm nursing, I mean that in the most literal sense.

When the twins finally go to sleep, I just want to be alone. A-L-O-N-E. With a good book. But there's a husband that I need to give some of my attention to, since the only quality time we've spent together during the day included diaper-changing. And then there's my cats, who might be the world's neediest. They want to be petted, and cuddled, and they want to lay all over me. Trying to ignore them makes matters worse - they head-butt me and lay on top of the book I'm reading or the computer keyboard. So I give in, and they get their share of attention too. And then there's the laundry that needs to be folded, the dishes that need to be washed, the toilets that deperately need to be scrubbed because I can't seem to find the time to clean....

Becoming a mother definitely means giving up "me" time. But I'm so busy tending to everyone else's needs, who's left to tend to mine?

Can you tell it's been an exhausting day? I'm off to go read a little of "Eat, Pray, Love."

The Grass is Always Greener

Before I had children, I had a few acquaintances who would frequently use a variation of the following phrase in conversations with me: You'll understand when you have children. For example:

Oh, you're in a book club? The only thing I read these days are children's books. You'll understand when you have children.

You and your husband are going away for the weekend? Must be nice. You'll understand when you have children.

Your house is decorated beautifully. You can kiss that goodbye when you have children.

You're having another glass of wine? I'd have another glass if I didn't have to go home and take care of my children.

You're taking more graduate courses? If I didn't have children, I could do that, too.

You get the idea.

The comments were always innocent enough, and I don't believe they were intended to hurt my feelings in any way. It was more of a Mother's Lament, a longing for the way things once were, a desire for the freedom of days past...and believe me, I can relate. Most of these people didn't know about my struggles with infertility, so had no idea how much these comments stung. I vowed that I would never, ever, say this to anyone, no matter how wistful I became for my child-free days.

I think it's incredibly important that your children don't become the sole definition of who you are. It's likely that this was the issue with the acquaintances to whom I'm referring; that they were no longer willing or able to partake in some of the activities they once enjoyed. I am a Mother, yes, and perhaps most importantly. But I am so many other things, too. And I can't let those other things get buried under my day-to-day motherly duties just because I have children now.

To date, I don't believe I have uttered that phrase, or any variation of it, to anyone. Largely because I am still a member of said Book Club (even though I haven't read the last few books), and I still collect and display antiques that I love, and I am three courses shy of my second Master's Degree (bedrest got in the way of the final three courses, but I will be taking them in the Spring with any luck!). The weekend get-away has yet to be realized, but I hope it's not far off. And if I want another glass of wine, darn it, I deserve it.

Details, Details

I have a horrible memory, especially when it comes to my childhood. I know I had a wonderful, happy upbringing, but sometimes I can only grasp the fuzzy edges of a family vacation or a funny moment from my past. My sisters will say, "Remember the time when we...", and sometimes I only have a vague recollection of the event. It's as if I wasn't really there, as if I only witnessed the event as an onlooker instead of being an active participant. I think it's because I'm often not fully present in the moment; I always seem to have something else on my mind. I can't imagine what that "something else" was when I was little (Did I get my homework done? Does so-and-so like me?), but I know that it can still be an issue with me now.

The vivid memories that I do have must really have made an impact on me, for one reason or another. I can clearly remember the first time I was scolded in school. It was 5th grade, and we were cleaning the classroom at the end of the school year. My job was to straighten the library books. I wasn't quite sure what was expected of me, and I needed some clarification, so I called out for my teacher. "Mrs. Green?" No answer. "Mrs. Green? Mrs. Green?" Now, my teacher must have been pretty frazzled, and I'm sure she had a ton of report cards to finish, because she snapped. "I HEARD YOU, AMY! NOW WAIT UNTIL I'M READY TO ANSWER!" It took all the strength I could muster not to cry, and I don't think I was ever yelled at in school again after that.

The things that I remember most clearly are the events that conjured up an extreme emotion. The incident with Mrs. Green made me feel extremely ashamed. I have other memories of times that I was extremely happy, or extremely sad, or extremely nervous, or extremely embarrassed, etc... It's those smaller moments, the ones that didn't have quite the impact or importance, that aren't as forthcoming. It makes me sad, because although life has its fair share of bigger moments, I think it's the smaller ones that really define who you are. It's the smaller moments I want to remember most: picking blackberries with my grandmother at her cabin, climbing into my parents bed with my sisters when there was a thunderstorm.

There is so much I want to remember about Charlotte and Gavin at this age, but none of the things are momentous. The way Gavin presses his face against mine when I hold him over my shoulder, the noises he makes when he has to burp, how he curls his toes when I am feeding him. I want to remember how Charlotte squeaks when she is trying to wake up, how she turns her head up and to the left when she is sleeping, and how she lets her leg hang over the tub when I'm giving her a bath. I'm trying to be fully present with them, so I don't miss a moment. So when they are older and say, "Tell me about when I was little," I'll be able to describe some little detail about who they were, and why it meant so much to me.

Mother's Day

It was very surreal for me to wake up on Mother's Day morning. For the past three years, Mother's Day has been difficult. It was a reminder of all of the meds, shots, procedures, etc... that I was dealing with, as well as a reminder that I didn't know whether or not I was ever going to become a mother. But yesterday was different. I woke up excited, like you do on Christmas morning. Michael and my family made a big fuss over it being my first Mother's Day, and even though I had a total of maybe four hours of fragmented sleep, I was feeling happy. Peaceful, even.

It's difficult to hold on to that feeling of peace when the babies are going through their nightly "colicky" time. Juggling two screaming babies AND trying to eat dinner is a challenge. Last night I scarfed down a slice of pizza while rocking Gavin and watching the Sopranos, and royally burnt the roof of my mouth in the process. Not much of a multi-tasker. But despite the sleep deprivation, the hunger pangs, and all the crying (from both the babies AND their mother), I've never been more content. There's nothing quite like the feeling I get when one of the babies is crying, and I pick him* up and put him against my chest, and he lets out a deep, satisfied sigh. It's almost like he's saying, "There you are, Mommy. What took you so long?"

On another note, I am becoming a master at one-handed typing, In fact, I composed this entire post with one hand while holding Gavin. (Michael always winds up with Charlotte, as she is more easily consoled. Doesn't seem fair, does it?)

Anyway, I hope all of you had a wonderful Mother's Day. You deserve it.

* Or her, depends on who is screaming the loudest.