The Mommies' Diaries…Parenting, One Blog at a Time.

Oh, the joys of being pregnant with your first child: midnight ice cream runs and baby showers, parenting books and pregnancy journals.  And oh, the first night home from the hospital: sleep-deprived panic.  Too often, I dismissed advice from veteran moms with a polite, naive nod.  Two kids later, and with a third on the way, I think I’ve learned my lesson.  Now that this Bugaboo’s been around the block a few times, I plan to get it right when baby #3 arrives.

1. I will sleep when the baby sleeps.  I seriously scoffed at this adage because I like to “get things done.”  I once tried to do my income taxes during nap times; I do not recommend that strategy.  Of course, with two older children, I’ll have school schedules to consider.  But if you are a first time mom, I implore you: rest!
2. I will ask for help.  So lucky I have been to receive offers from friends and family to lend a hand; and how gracious I have been to say, “That is so nice of you!” and never take anyone up on it.  My husband went back to work a few days after my second child was born, and I had an 18-month old to care for at the same time.  Not asking for help was a big mistake!
3. I will go outside at least once a day.  My best baby days started with a solo walk to the coffee shop to clear my head.
4. I will breastfeed, but this kid is getting a pacifier ASAP.  I once walked a mile down the Embarcadero hunched over a stroller.  I was trying to calm a screaming child by putting my pinky in his mouth (this was the sage advice I had read in a parenting book).  If breastfeeding is going well for you, don’t feel you have to adhere to the 3-week rule.  Which leads to #5:
5. I will wing it once in a while.  I EXCLUSIVELY breastfed my first child.  Seeing how exhausted I was after my second son was born, my friend Erin suggested that I sub in a bottle of formula here and there.  Guess what?  I got a few more hours of sleep and he survived!
6. I will challenge my crazed hormones to a dance-off.  Picture a madwoman pacing the floor at dusk with a crying infant in a sling and a toddler on the brink of a tantrum.  When the witching hour arrives for me, doing something wacky, like having an impromptu dance party, breaks the monotony.
7. I will put on the television.  There, I said it.  My kids can watch T.V. sometimes and I will no longer judge myself.  I’m not suggesting you get an infant hooked on Days of Our Lives, but don’t feel like you should be teaching one kid sign language, while teaching the older sibling chess strategy on 2 hours sleep.  The first time our neighbors invited us to have a glass of wine while the kids watched a Disney movie, I nearly wrote them into my will.
8. I will not attempt to go to a restaurant/family reunion/long car trip/or God-forbid an airplane for as long as I deem fit.  I have no illusions now that I won’t have to change my lifestyle when an infant comes along.  So I am sorry to report that I will not be attending your destination wedding in Puerto Rico two weeks after my due date.
9. I will be more social, on my terms.  Nothing makes you feel more isolated after having a baby than completely isolating yourself.  The thought of entertaining a crowd is daunting, so I’ll keep a few cheesecakes on hand in the freezer – Golden Girls style – and invite a friend to stop by.  Or, I’ll call an east coast confidante and eat the entire cheesecake myself. (Hey, I’ll be breastfeeding!)
10. I will be more present and positive.  I can’t wait to see the joy of embracing a new sibling through my children’s eyes.  I’ll even get in front of the camera this time, to fully document our growing family in its most precious, fleeting moments.

Is there any advice you wish you’d taken in the first few months of becoming a parent?

Mothers of one child I owe you an apology. I must admit, I have never walked in your shoes for more than 24 hours at most. My first baby turned out to be babies so I have never been a mother of one. In my twin moms group, we’d refer to babies born one at a time as singletons, with only a slight mocking tone. As we pushed our double strollers and discussed our futile attempts to feed both babies at the same time or get them on the same sleep schedule, we’d stare with envious eyes at moms who could wander through Baby Gap with one tiny baby strapped in a baby carrier leaving one hand free to hold an iced latte.

Twins are hard, yes. I know that one baby at a time is hard too. As my twins got older, I definitely started to see the benefits. For instance, built in playmates! Lucky for me my twins enjoy each other and have always played well together. I was never nervous sending them off to preschool since I knew they at least had each other. When my singleton son came along my girls already had to share their mother, so one more sibling was not a huge deal for them. And if you are going to have more than two children, twins are certainly more efficient! Two kids for the price of one pregnancy.

But back to my apology. For two weeks in July my twin girls were at sleep away camp, leaving a mother of one seven year old boy for the very first time.  This was going to be a cake walk.

Actually, it was not a cake walk. Yes, the house was quieter and cleaner.  There was less laundry and far fewer dishes to clean up. However, how does one cook for one child?  Do you make an entire box of macaroni and cheese for one kid to have five bites? Turns out it really isn’t that easy to scramble one egg at a time when you are used to scrambling up to five at a time. All my meals were slightly off since I had to cut every recipe in half and doing math in my head is really not my forte.

I’m pretty sure that my son missed his sisters too. Every day he had to sit thisclosetome on the couch and my usually somewhat quiet son was non-stop chatter and questions. I think he was bored.   I played more Connect Four, Battleship and toss the football in those two weeks than I did in my entire childhood. Being alone with one child was… intense.  My usual refrain of take it outside and play for a while felt a little mean if I was banishing him all by himself.

So, mothers of one, I am so sorry for thinking you have it so easy. I don’t know how you do it.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever had to take a trip to the Emergency Room.  Keep that hand raised if you found the experience to be harrowing for one reason or another.

Luckily, I’ve only had to go to the ER a few times in my life.  Each time, however, I found the process of having to wait my turn to be seen pretty distressing – and not just because of the excessive waiting, and waiting, and waiting.  What I find so uncomfortable is sitting there in a germ-laden chair watching people file in and out – bloody people, moaning and groaning people, drunk people, mentally disturbed people, and those lovely people coughing up copious amounts of phlegm.  No matter how crappy you are feeling for the reason that landed you in the ER, there is always someone in greater need than you.  And so, you wait your turn – feeling very sorry for yourself for not being considered a higher priority.

Last week, a dear friend came to visit me and meet Baby Z.  She asked me how I was doing with balancing my attention between both DJ and Z.  I sighed a long, deep breath before diving into my long-winded answer.  It’s been hard.  Really, really hard.  Like, there’s nothing that could’ve prepared me for the exhausting job of answering to the very unique needs of two different children, simultaneously.  I said, “It comes down to this – who needs me for survival in that moment?  If Z is screaming to be fed, and DJ is screaming because she wants me to hand her stickers – well, nourishment trumps adhesive kitty cats.” “It’s triage,” my friend said.  Exactly. That’s exactly it.

While the love affair that I wrote about last week is far from fading out – it has been sprinkled with a dose of reality.  Managing more than one child is challenging, to say the least.  It’s survival versus jealousy.  It’s need versus want. It’s immediate versus I’ll-be-with-you-in-a-minute.

Life with a 2 ½ year old feels much like an Emergency Room.  She truly believes that everything is urgent.  She trusts that if her spontaneous whims aren’t responded to within seconds, she might actually die.  Unfortunately, however, toddlers also wear blinders….they don’t have the ability (or desire) to look around the room and notice who else might be in need.  And so, they ask – and ask, and ask, and ask for your attention – no matter where else it might be needed.

I am fortunate enough to have a very communicative toddler.  She has no problem expressing her wants, needs or thoughts (Did I tell you about the time she said my breath was stinky, and told me that I should go take a shower?).  Anyhow, my point is that DJ typically calls out her very specific requests, “Mommy, help me find my other shoe!”  “I’m hungry!” “I can’t find my Princess crown!”

And then, there are those moments, which I am learning might be the actual “urgent” moments, when she uses no words at all – just my name, over and over and over again. These moments, inevitably, happen when Z is trying to eat. And sure, while I have absolutely helped DJ choose socks, and I have poured a bowl of Goldfish crackers, and I have read a book and completed a puzzle all while Z is attached to my breast – I would prefer to let this poor kid have an uninterrupted meal here and there.

What I’m trying to say is that, I am learning there’s not an actual methodology for triaging the needs of multiple children – because both are important.  For instance, while feeding Z a few days ago, and trying to reason with DJ while she was shouting my name a dozen times from the other room – I missed an opportunity to help wipe DJ, and she ran through the living room with poop smeared all over her butt.  Then, there was the moment when I finally responded to DJ’s nagging whines, only to find that she had toppled over into her shirts drawer and couldn’t get herself out.  But, DJ hasn’t been the only one to suffer from my inability to correctly weight the needs of each kid…..just yesterday, I chose to let Z cry just a little longer so that I could finish reading a book to DJ – only to find that she had pooped so much it had leaked out of her diaper, onto her tummy and all over her pajamas.

I sense my nomination for “Mom of the Year” may be revoked. Or maybe not.  Doesn’t “doing the best I can” hold any weight?

I have to believe that every new mom of two goes through this.  I have to believe that my challenges aren’t unique – and I have to believe that my children will get through this learning curve of mine, unscathed.  On days when I am feeling particularly torn and guilty, I remember what a friend said to me months before I even conceived Z.  She said that all the hard lessons my children will learn from having a sibling, are all lessons that I want for them to learn – like sharing, patience, and self-sufficiency (in the moments I can’t be readily available).  While they may be struggling now – all of this juggling will only serve them well in the future.  I do believe that.

While triaging my children’s needs, I am learning that the new standard for “emergency” is when DJ says, “Mommy, I need you.”  This request, when asked in her tiny, sweet, gentle voice means “I am feeling a great divide between us and I need you to stop whatever you are doing, pretend like it’s just us again, and love me up until I’m full.”  That trumps everything.  For now, anyway.

I am so sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve last written.  My only excuse….life.  I always find myself slightly overwhelmed for no apparent reason around the holidays.  This year has been no exception.  Plus, we’ve been hunkered down a bit, soaking in the idea of our expanding family.  We found out we’re having another girl – and I just have to share this video of DJ announcing it to our friends and family:

“Sister”

As I sit down to write tonight, I am feeling really, really sentimental about the thought of my daughters having a sister in one another.  While I have a step-sister, she is 8 years older than me.  We grew up in different households.  So, for all intents and purposes, I consider myself an only child.  The thought of having a sibling, yet alone a sister, totally overwhelms me with emotion.  When we made our announcement, those family and friends who have a sister(s), all commented that we gave DJ the greatest gift in the world.

Rather than writing on and on about all of these complex feelings that I can’t yet fully put into words, I have decided to make a list of my hopes for DJ and her sister-to-be.

• DJ, I hope you never feel a moment of divided love from your parents between your new baby sister and yourself.
• I hope you never feel a lapse in our attention to you, to your incredible compassion and creativity and brilliance.
• I hope you see your sister as a gift to our family from the moment she is born, and I hope that your eyes are among the very first she sees.
• I hope that mommy and daddy are wise enough to see the differences between the two of you so that we can foster your individuality and encourage your interests and talents.
• I hope that you never feel compared to one another – and that you always, without fail, feel celebrated for your uniqueness.
• I hope you never ever wonder if mommy and daddy love one of you more than the other, and if you do, I hope that you will crawl into our laps and let us tenderly wrap our arms around you for assurance that you are, indeed, cherished.
• I hope that more than just relationship, the two of you have friendship.
• I hope that that friendship is enough to prevent “Do not enter” signs from being posted on either of your bedroom doors.
• I hope to hear countless nights of midnight giggling coming from your bedroom.
• I hope for ridiculously fun family vacations where having one another is enough to make a long car ride part of the memory of the trip.
• I hope that you keep each other’s secrets, and that you defend one another – and I also hope you always encourage the other to do the right thing.
• I hope that your arguments are centered around sharing toys, clothes, the last cookie….I hope they are never fueled by jealousy, insecurity or boys.
• I hope that I always serve as a superb example of what it means to be a strong woman – strong in my faith, my convictions, my marriage, my involvement in your lives.
• I hope that daddy shows you what it means to be a man, and that you never settle for anything less once you’re allowed to date.
• I hope that you feel beautiful inside and out, and that the harsh words from others never ever scathe you.
• I hope that you are confident enough to be yourselves – always.
• I hope that you refuse to change for anyone.
• I hope that you draw strength from one another, never forgetting the roots from which you were grown.
• I hope that the things you have in common bind you together, rather than tear you apart.
• I hope that you are different enough to get along, but similar enough to understand one another without ever having to explain yourselves.
• I hope you are there for one another, through good times and bad – and that you always think of one another before anyone else when you really need a shoulder to lean on.
• I hope that you are always honest with one another, and that you’ll hurt when the other hurts – just as you’ll feel joy when the other triumphs.
• I hope you celebrate each other.
• I hope you adore one another.
• I hope that the example of love and respect that we live by under our roof is the thread that stitches you two together for a lifetime.
• I hope that when mommy and daddy are old and gray, you still think we’re really awesome.
• I hope that you don’t ever come to dread spending the holidays with us.
• I hope that you know how loved, appreciated, and wanted each of you are – and how blessed we feel to have two beautiful ladies to call our daughters.
• I hope your sisterhood is the greatest gift of your life
• I hope, my dear DJ and sweet baby girl, that all of my hopes for you both come true – for I can’t imagine two people more worthy of my earnest desires.

Moments after I walked out to the pool and snapped these photos, Sejal starting slapping the water, tears starting to fall from her eyes.

My twin girls shared a bassinet, next to our bed until they were five months old. Then they shared a crib in their own room for a couple more months. One little baby in a big crib just seemed… lonely. They have never slept with their heads more than five feet apart. I have never even considered separating them. There were many times over the years when one had an accident, or needed some Tylenol and I would turn the lights on, change the sheets, pour the medicine, get a glass of water all while the other slept without even stirring. It’s rare that one will sleep in longer than the other. They usually come into my room in the morning one right after the other.

There is a girl on my daughter’s soccer team who is one of seven children. I think she is number four or five. Her mom gets her to practice on time, her uniform is always clean for games and she always has cold water in her water bottle. I don’t know how she does it. I watch her with a sense of awe. Probably the same way that mothers of one baby used to watch me with awe when I would chase my twin toddlers in every possible direction at the park. It wasn’t unusual to me because it was all I knew.

Jayne and Sejal. Sejal and Jane. My first borns. There are twins on my mom’s side of the family and my dad’s side of the family. It never occurred to me that I would have twins. Until my 30th birthday when I went to my very first OB appointment at 6 weeks pregnant and the doctor showed me those two little blobs swimming around in my uterus. I drove home in a daze.

This is Sejal.

She likes reading, singing and fashion.  She picks out her outfits the night before school and then changes her mind several times the next day.  She doesn’t like to be alone and always like to know where I am, even at eight years old.  She has lots of friends and often writes them little notes covered in stickers.  She has an endless capacity for hugs and sometimes squeezes so hard she nearly knocks me over.  You can’t help but love her as soon as you meet her.

This is Jayne.

She like soccer, knitting and writing.  She picks out her outfits five minutes before we leave for school.  She thinks her hair is too puffy and she loves to tell jokes.  When I drop her off at soccer or ballet or school she barely looks back after getting out of the car.  Whether on the soccer field or doing homework, she has her father’s perfectionism.  She is going to do amazing things someday.

This is Raj.

Everyone loves Raj.  He loves karate, race cars and playing golf in the backyard with his dad.  There are very few things that he won’t do for a piece of candy.  He is small, but mighty and doesn’t keeps up with his older sisters just fine thankyouverymuch.  Every night before he goes to bed he tells me I’m his lucky charm.   I can never get enough of him and his infectious smile.

My kids are amazing.  But throw them all together and look out.  My sweet, peaceful children turn on what I like to call their mob mentality.

Each morning Raj wakes up first and comes into my room.  “Am I first?” he asks.  Usually he is and all is right with the world.  But if one of the girls has happened to wake up before him, it’s not pretty.  Then Raj starts yelling at whichever sister woke up first, then she starts yelling at him, then the other sister wakes up and starts yelling at me that all the yelling woke her up.  Then I want to go hide in a closet because that is no way to start the day.

The car ride home from school is often not our most shining moment of the day.  Raj wants to tell me about what happened at recess.  Jayne and Sejal start comparing notes on what they did in class that day.  Then Raj starts talking louder because his sisters are talking louder.  Soon enough Sejal wants to tell me about her part in the school musical and Jayne wants to know what we are doing today after school.  Each child gets progressively louder in order to talk over their siblings and it’s all I can do just to steer the car home.

My husband has been traveling quite a bit lately, so that means I have been parenting solo.  Last night after dinner I was doing the dishes and Jayne and Sejal were finishing their homework and Raj was playing on my laptop.  Sounds like a normal, relatively peaceful family evening.  Wrong.  Sejal is asking for help with her homework.  I take my gloves off and help her solve a problem.  As soon as I put them back on, she asks for help.  Meanwhile, Jayne is singing a song while alphabetizing her spelling words.  This is bothering Raj who must move to a different room in order to get away from her, but only after yelling at her to be quiet and slamming my lap top shut.  Next he wants to get back on the computer and can’t find PBS.org.  I take my gloves off again to help him.  Then Jayne wants to read me her spelling spelling sentences, really loudly.  But no, wait!  Sejal did not get enough to eat at dinner and I will please cut up an apple for her rightthisveryminute.  And oh crap I am never going to finish the dishes.

I start to curse my husband in my head for not being here to deflect some of these requests because I know it will continue  until they are all safely tucked in bed.  I lost count of how many times I said, “there is only one of me and three of you!!”

Yes, individually my kids are amazing and calm.   If anyone has any crowd control tricks, please send them my way.

I remember clearly my first thought when I found out I was pregnant for the second time.  I already had two year old twins and all I could think was how is there ever going to be enough of me for three children.  But low and behold, I have managed with three children just fine for the past five plus years.  Some days there clearly isn’t enough of me to go around and other days I even manage to eek out a little time and energy to do something for myself.

I’ve learned to divide my heart into three pieces, but what often trips me up is trying to divide it into three equal pieces.   Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been obsessed with fairness.  I made sure each one of my stuffed animals had a turn right next to me in my bed and drove my mom nuts asking her to count the number of noodles I had on my plate to make sure my sister didn’t have more.

I try my best to make sure everyone has the same amount of milk in their glass.  I carefully count out the chicken nuggets to make sure each child has the same number.  We take turns picking the music we listen to in the car and I even made a chart to keep track of whose turn it is to sit in the most favored car seat.  But let’s face it, life is not always fair and I just can’t make sure they all get the same amount of hugs per day and chocolate chips in their cookies.

When my twins started kindergarten I went to great pains to make sure I volunteered the same amount of time in each one’s classroom.  I was assigned to Monday afternoon for one of them and there are several Monday holiday’s in a school year.  They noticed if I made it to one classroom that week and not the other, and I felt guilty.  I try to explain to them that things will not always be tit for tat.  For the most part it all works out and I probably feel more guilt over dividing my time up than is necessary.

Tonight is Back to School Night and like every parent with multiple kids at one school, not just twins, I fret over whose classroom presentation I would attend and which one my husband would attend. I don’t mean to imply that I am the superior parent, but I am on the front lines doing drop off, pick up, communicating with fellow parents and teachers and helping with homework.  I wanted to hear the teacher’s presentation first hand for both my girls.

At least my son’s kindergarten class presentation is earlier in the night and both my husband and I can attend that one.

After fretting over it and making my husband discuss it with me ad nauseum, he finally said, “relax, it’s not Sophie’s Choice.”  And he was right.  Whenever I am stressed about something like this I try to ask myself how much it really matters in the grand scheme of their lives.  They won’t even know whose classroom I was in.  Will they not get in to Stanford because I didn’t sit in their classroom one September night in 2nd grade?  Perhaps taking a step back from making everything fair and the same would be good for me and my kids.