Give Me a Break!

This past weekend I spent a luxurious 48+ hours on a retreat with three of my closest friends. I promised myself months ago that I would take myself to Breitenbush Hot Springs (alone if need be) to celebrate weaning the twins. I expected it to be in Fall and I gave myself a decent amount of time to accomplish my goal.

It wasn't easy. Can you imagine how hard it is to say, "no" to these two?

I went about weaning in a very gentle way...basically, I let them decide, but I encouraged them a bit and dropped feedings when they didn't seem to need them (even emotionally). So, I had to say no occasionally, but not much.

The amazing thing about the combination of weaning the boys and allowing myself a personal retreat is that I felt like all of a sudden I got myself back in every way. Physically, I can eat what I want, take cold medicine if need be, have as much coffee as I want, drink 2 glasses of wine without feeling guilty, and certain parts of my body have returned to normal size. What I didn't realize until I went away for the weekend is how much of myself I was suppressing mentally, as well.

The thing about motherhood is that it's really, really hard, but we do it because there is no alternative. We don't eliminate the children's needs because then what kind of mother would we be? Instead we eliminate our own needs. We push our desires, our interests, even our health into a corner and say we'll get to it when we have the time, but we never really have the time. Being away was sort of like waking up. There were so many parts of me that I was pushing aside in order to be a better mother, or so I thought. What I realized was that I can be a better mother if I allow myself to breathe and celebrate who I am occasionally.  The entire thing felt so foreign at first, suddenly I remembered what it felt like to just sit and read a book or drink a cup of coffee in the sunshine, and not worry about what comes next or who needs what. It was so beautiful and so renewing!

sitting by the river in an adirondack chair reading a book!

There were so many wonderful moments during the weekend, but for some reason I keep coming back to the first morning when my friend Patty, who also has three children, and I sat on the porch of the lodge in the sunshine drinking coffee. We sat there for at least an hour drinking and talking and when we were done we couldn't help but remark, somewhat jokingly, about how frivolous it seemed to have spent so much time just sitting there. We couldn't quite wrap our brains around it yet because we hadn't been there for long yet, but that time we took to ourselves was something we NEVER have time for in our everyday lives.

When I first visited Breitenbush I went with Ben for our wedding anniversary. Kyan was 2 years old and we had never left him overnight before. I was REALLY nervous about it, but I really wanted the time with Ben, too. One of the wonderful and complicated things about Breitenbush is that there is no cell reception or public phone or internet. I had no way of contacting home to make sure Kyan was okay. I had a great time, but there was a constant nagging in my gut because I couldn't totally release my anxiety about leaving him. When Sunday morning hit I was ready to go immediately and Ben had to reign me in and get me to relax for a bit longer. Here's a picture from that first trip:

This picture is one of the pictures from that trip that I go to when I feel like I'm letting myself slip away too much...it just feels like a picture that is SO very "me".

June 2009

Here's the cute little 2 year old Kyan that we left behind for our anniversary trip:

During this recent trip I felt very mild anxiety about leaving the three boys, but it totally faded by the end of the weekend. Maybe it was something about not being a first time mom, or maybe it was the fact that I needed the break so desperately that my mind knew better than to punish me with anxiety. Either way, I was pretty darn relaxed and I could have stayed another couple of days without getting too anxious!

September 2011

I found the time to be the "me" that I longed for when I look back at that picture because I gave myself the permission I needed to relax and renew. I think I gave myself a wonderful gift, and my husband also contributed to the gift by taking care of all three boys on his own for the first time ever (well, for a prolonged period of time, that is) without a single grumble.

I am so thankful for the moments that I was granted and I know that it will keep me stronger as I struggle, laugh, and celebrate with my beautiful family.

Today was one of those days when one questions one's right, and possibly one's choice, to be a mother.

I suppose the day started at 1:30 am when Ronan awoke screaming:
He is briefly mollified with a pacifier and blanket, but the screaming returns about 10 minutes later (you know, just long enough to begin to drift back to sleep thinking you've dodged a bullet).

When further attempts to calm him IN the crib become futile, Ben gets him out and begins walking around the house with him. It is clear that something hurts because he cries no matter what we do. Eventually Ben gets him some ibuprofen and I take him to bed with us. Where he cries, and fusses, and rolls, and laughs, and crawls, and stands on my chest...you get the picture. Finally, fed up with that I take him out to the living room and attempt to calm him. I get out a bottle of milk (something he has recently been indulging in before bed since the nursing has stopped...what crazy person introduces the bottle at 15 months, you say? why me, of course!), and he drinks the entire thing.

Great. He was just hungry. Now he'll sleep, right? NOPE! More screaming. Oh, have I mentioned that by this time Mason is in bed with Ben because he has been woken up by the screaming several times and managed to go back to sleep a few of the times but is finally fed up.
Screaming continues. Ben, taking one for the team, passes Mason to me and gets up and gets dressed. He takes Ronan into the playroom and stays there with him until 5 am. Awake. Yes. 5 am. How nice that I got to stay in bed, right? Uh, yeah.

Well, by this time Mason is wide awake since Ben and I have been arguing over his head about what to do with Ronan. He takes up Ronan's fuss, roll, and crawl routine and keeps it up for about and hour or so. Finally, he falls asleep...within about a half hour Ben comes back to bed...then we all sleep for an hour...then Kyan wakes up. Of course, right?

6 am we have most of the family in the bed and I am trying to keep Kyan quiet and still enough to keep from waking Mason. No such luck. Up we go.

After rising I have to do my morning weigh in for my diet game that I'm playing. Wouldn't you know it, I didn't make weight for the week. OF COURSE I DIDN'T! That would mean something GOOD was happening. So, the final conclusion of my night of HELL is that I will not be drinking wine for two solid weeks (if we don't make weight we can't drink for the remainder of the game). Fabulous.

The rest of the morning basically consists of Ronan and Mason taking it in turns to shriek and sob while clinging to some part of my body. Only with Ronan the shrieking never stops. No matter what I do.
So, I put them down for nap a tad bit early and Mason goes right to sleep while Ronan (you guessed it) shrieks. When he finally goes to sleep (maybe 10 minutes of shrieking) he sleeps for approximately 30 minutes. SERIOUSLY?? Then wakes up...shrieking! I pick him up, I cuddle him, I offer him food and drink, I sit, I stand, I dance, I sing....nothing works. The shrieking continues.

Finally, it seems wise to call the doctor. I think maybe he has an ear infection as many of his crazy night fits have been associated with that in the past. The only appointment available is at 2:40; the twins' second nap is at 2 pm. Of course.

So, I decide they should be quite tired and try to put them down at 12:30 so they can nap before the appointment. A new level of shrieking commences. So, I give that one up and throw them all in the car. I have no idea where I'm going, but I know I cannot stay in the house listening to the shrieking for one minute longer!

As we begin to drive I realize that both Kyan and I need to eat. So, I get the bright idea to go to New Seasons. Kyan loves to eat there. Things seem to be going fine until I actually begin to consume my food...at which point (can you guess?) SHRIEKING!

Now, the thing about the twins is that they are really good babies...really. If they get fussy I just have to change the scenery and they are pretty much content. SO not the case today. So, I try juggling various distractions in the form of food, silverware, napkins, etc. while simultaneously shoving my food into my mouth and trying to get Kyan to sit still and eat.

As I get up to throw things away and clean up our mess the twins are pretty fussy and a bit loud, but it's not like we're in a 5 star restaurant or anything, it's not a quiet place. Still, I get these looks from people that clearly say, "we are judging you for the behavior of your bratty boys." I also get a sense of, "what's wrong with you? Do you know what birth control is?" in several of the glances.

By the time I leave I am almost ready to cry, but I don't. I get them in the car and strapped in and begin the drive to the doctor's office. In an attempt to keep the twins awake (ironic, isn't it?) I start to act silly and laugh with them and I realize that I really do like them better when they are all strapped into their car seats looking at me adoringly.

When we get to the doctor's office I open the van door and realize that Kyan is beginning to drift off. COME ON, KID!! He hasn't napped since last week and I wasn't even working on keeping him awake! So, I put him in one side of the double stroller with the seat down and he is instantly asleep. OK. I strap Mason on my back, since the appointment is for Ronan, so in theory Mason can stay there through the entire event, put Ronan in the other side of the stroller, and off we go.

We get in there and Ronan is the happiest child I have ever seen. They are looking at me like I have a screw loose when I explain why we've come. They check him out and, sure enough, nothing wrong. Maybe a tooth coming in, maybe, but I think that was just an attempt to make me feel better. BUT, "while you're here, why don't you get those next two vaccinations taken care of (since you are so far behind because of your 'alternate schedule' and we are afraid you're going to destroy the human race with your rebellion)." Uh, ok.

It is DEFINITELY a great idea to add two sore spots, a possible fever, and an increased chance of fussiness to our already boiling over pot. WHY THE HELL NOT! Let's do it.

Of course, Kyan wakes up right before the torture session. He is not particularly happy to wake up in a stroller in the doctor's office. The twins are naked now and running, climbing, grabbing, and pushing everything in sight. It takes the nurse a good 10-12 minutes to return with the shots (OF COURSE IT DOES!).

We get the shots done, children are screaming, I only half dress them, strap them into the stroller and onto my back and set off into the waiting room full of people who also would like to inform me that, "I've got my hands full." Thank you. Very astute observation. Do you want one?

We get in the car and I'm SURE the twins will fall right to sleep, I mean they have to, right? NOPE. Ronan shrieks like a banshee for a good 5 solid minutes which sets Kyan off because he's out of sorts and, I have to admit, it does REALLY hurt one's ears to listen to, and Kyan is right next to him.

I have to pee really badly at this point (because I am consuming 3 liters of water a day for this silly diet game I'm doing), but I sure as hell wasn't going to attempt to go into a bathroom with the entire screaming crew. So, my new dilemma is whether or not to drive until they are asleep or to get home as fast as possible so that I can pee and give poor Kyan a reprieve from Ronan's shrieks. As I see Ronan's eyelids begin to flutter between shrieks I decide to keep going. Finally, he falls asleep. Mason does not, but I'm counting on him to lay down in the crib without any issues once we get home. BIG mistake there!

We get home and I take Ronan to his crib where he commences loud, stuffy snoring (oh, NOW I notice that he's stuffed up), but when I try to put Mason in he screams and throws himself all over the crib. Kyan is in the hallway trying to get me to put the TV on for him because I have mistakenly agreed to let him watch so that I can possibly have a few minutes of downtime once I get the twins to sleep. It takes me a good 10 minutes of cooing and rocking to calm Mason and he goes to sleep. I put TV on for Kyan, go into the kitchen and begin preparations for dinner. That lasts all of 3 minutes before I hear Ronan. Really? REALLY?

So, I bring a shrieking Ronan out of his room and he, again, continues to shriek. I get him some ibuprofen for whatever pain is turning him into this monster and I try to finish preparing the roasts that I have to get in the oven to cook because they will take over an hour. He will not let me set him down, but I can't do it holding him, so I set him on the counter and give him some cooking utensils to play with. He continues to shriek while I prepare. I realize I have reached an all time low. I am just about ready to put him in the oven.

Finally, the roast is in and I take him into the playroom with Kyan. He continues to shriek so I give him my phone and the remote control (minus batteries) and this distracts him enough to stop the shrieking. Finally, a bit of quiet. Then Mason wakes up. He won't stop crying. I realize he is stuffy. Oh dear lord.

When Ben gets home I am sitting at the table shoveling food into my mouth while both babies are trying to climb up onto me while shrieking and sobbing. I attempted to feed them and they threw the food AT ME. Here are Ben's pictures of my attempt to sit on the couch and relax for a minute after I ate:

The look on my face is complete disbelief that the shrieking banshee is smiling SO sweetly for the camera!

Finally, I take my leave and go for a 20 minute bike ride in order to decompress. It helps. I come back able to help put the twins to bed without screaming. And, now that I have cleansed myself of the day by laying it all out here, I am off to bed to prepare for what promises to be another great night!

Mothers Who Shop

Ben made a comment the other day when we were going to shop for Kyan’s school backpack. Kyan asked why we were going to Pottery Barn Kids and Ben said, “Because, Kyan, that’s where Mommies who want to compete with one another go.” I got really mad, but the truth is I got mad because the truth hurts.

There is this part of me that totally competes with other moms. It’s like a little voice in my head saying, “are you going to let them ‘look’ like a better mother than you?”  or “if you don’t get him the cute and expensive version then everyone will think (know) that you don’t have a lot of money.” 

This is the sad reality and yet I’m a very open person. I don’t lie about the fact that we don’t own our house or have a lot of money to buy things, I don’t even hide it.  

So what is it with this competition that we mothers insist on engaging in? I see the ridiculousness of it in my mind’s eye and yet I continue to make choices that are based on my insecurities and my need to “prove” something to other people. I’m not sure how I got here.

Yesterday Kyan was making up a song while playing the guitar and I was sitting out in the living room just listening. In one part of the song he sang (approximate version) “I love my mother because I love her a lot and she loves me…she loves me so much because she gives me something special because she loves me so much…” Listening to that I had mixed emotions, obviously Kyan knows he is loved, but he equates receiving a gift or something special with love. That isn’t right. Seriously. This kid has no idea what it is like to want something REALLY badly and not receive it. Everything he has ever really wanted he has eventually gotten. It’s hard, as a parent, and hard for his grandparents, too, not to buy him the things he wants because he just seems so genuinely happy when he receives them and it feels so good to make him so happy. The issue is that he is beginning to equate this with love. Love should be so much more than the giving and receiving of material objects. 

I remember as a kid wanting a Cabbage Patch doll so badly that it’s all I could think of. My parents kept deferring to Santa Clause and Christmas as the chance to get it, but they didn’t promise anything. They didn’t have a lot of money and I knew that so I thought maybe if I told Santa over and over again he would bring my Cabbage Patch Kid. On Christmas morning I opened all of my presents and there was no Cabbage Patch. I tried really hard to be okay, but I think I might have started to cry when my parents told me that was it. Then they sprung the surprise that there was one more hidden present…of course it was my Cabbage Patch. The reality was I knew, for the most part, at that point that my parents were Santa and that they had a hard time affording Christmas, so that’s why I tried to be okay when it wasn’t there at first, because I knew it was a hard thing for them to afford. I understood the sacrifice they were making to some degree and I knew that I couldn’t have everything I wanted. I carried that doll with me everywhere for a long time. It was even saved for years, it may still be around. 

she looked JUST like this!

I thought that Kyan’s obsession with Buzz Lightyear a couple of Christmases ago was akin to my obsession with that Cabbage Patch kid, so I knew I had to get it. The difference is that I got him Buzz, and Woody, and Rex the dinosaur…amid a myriad of other things that totally overwhelmed him to the point that he actually stopped opening presents and said he was done. He never questioned for one second that he would get Buzz and wasn’t even surprised to have the entourage of characters appear, too.
I overdid it that year and I tried not to do that this past year, but it’s hard. I tell myself that, on one hand, the boys having fun toys makes my life easier because they are entertained. True, in part, but absolutely not the entire story. Yesterday Ronan and Mason entertained themselves for more than a half an hour by taking all of the pans out of the cupboard and carrying them to various places in the house and then setting them on the floor and stepping in and out of them. Kyan spends more time being entertained by sticks than he ever does with his $30 light saber. So, who am I buying all of this stuff for? Is it for me? So that when we have play dates everyone can see how much we have and how lucky my boys are? Maybe in some part, I don’t think that’s the whole story either, though. 

I want my boys to appreciate what they have and to feel what it is like to want something they can’t have. How can I achieve this when I along with their 4 loving grandparents like to get them everything they show interest in? I can’t tell everyone to stop buying presents. I can’t turn Christmas morning into a “give your toys to needy children” event and let them go without. There are little things that people do, like have kids donate to a toy drive etc, but I don’t think that’s going to get the real message across, it just makes us parents who have abundance feel like we’re at least making an effort to teach our children about those who don’t. I have no idea how to achieve it, but I truly want Kyan to want something and to be unsure he will get it. 

I suppose I can start by not competing with other mothers to have the cuter backpack or lunch sack or shoes for the kids, etc. I can stop allowing myself to judge my worth and status as a mother by how my children and their possessions appear to others. It’s a start. I don’t have any idea how successful I will be in my endeavor because the reality is that the need to compete comes from deep seeded insecurities about how others see and judge me. I know that my worth as a mother has nothing to do with those things, but I have to convince myself that others know that, too. Of course those people that I care about most and are true friends don’t judge me that way, but unfortunately I care what everyone thinks, not just those friends. I suppose I can begin with a different kind of Christmas, one where I don’t go into debt in order to overwhelm my children with the abundance that I can provide for them. It’s a start, and maybe next time we’ll look for a new backpack at Goodwill instead!

Foundations

Yesterday was Kyan's first day of preschool.

Since he once went to preschool full time (when I was working) I suppose it isn't a real "first", but somehow it felt that way. His new school is a cooperative preschool, meaning that I, as a parent, have a lot of work to do within the school. I work in his classroom once or twice a month as a parent teacher, and I have a formal "job" to do throughout the year.

Kyan will only be in school for 2 1/2 hours a day three days a week, so it's not a huge chunk of time, but somehow this has kick started my mama grief because it seems like he's so much closer to kindergarten, which is so much closer to elementary school, which is so much closer to middle school...you can see where I'm going with this.

Walking through the mall with the family the other day I was looking at teenage boys, I always do this, and trying to imagine our boys as teenagers. I turned to Ben and asked him if he ever does this and he looked at me like I was a bit crazy and said, "No." Well, maybe I am crazy, but I try to imagine what it will feel like to have three grown boys who are itching for independence from their parents and who are forming identities that we, as parents, will have little control over. One of the things that stood out in the child psychology class that I had to take to get my masters degree in teaching was the fact that a very large part of a child's identity is formed outside the home. There were numbers attached to this that showed how much time a child spends outside the home (mainly in school) and how big an influence their peers have on them vs. how much influence parents have on them. For some reason I have never been able to forget that. Maybe it's the control freak in me that can't believe I will have so little control over these boys that I gave birth to.

I guess this is why I am so concerned about the schools that I will send my children to. I have worked in a lot of different school settings. I have taught at a daycare style school that had a teaching philosophy, but was set up for full time working parents. I have taught at a cooperative alternative school run entirely by the parents on a governing board. I have worked in a public elementary school, and of course taught in a public high school. I have developed some very strong feelings through all of these experiences and now that my first child is nearing the age where he will begin to go to school "for real" I am faced with some huge decisions.

Ben and I have had a goal for the last couple of years. Our plan is to move back to the coast so that Kyan can go to the cooperative alternative school that I taught at years ago. I have a lot of reasons behind my desire to send Kyan, and eventually the twins, there, but the most important one is that I want the foundation of their education to be a love of learning. There are amazing teachers in public schools that do give their students this foundation, but they are not all amazing and even the amazing ones are hampered by the system they are a part of and the curriculums that they are required to stick to.

I'm not worried about Kyan learning the basics, I know that he will learn them whether at home or at school, what I'm worried about is that my boys learn about community, about loyalty, about kindness, about nature, and about their place in the world they live in. I want them to think of school as an extension of home; a place they feel comfortable in and responsible for. I don't think that happens in a public school. I don't blame those who run the public schools for the lack of these things, because often they are working hard to create them, but the public education model itself is severely lacking. There was a time I thought I would one day fight to change this model and help to save public education...then I became a public school teacher. The need for change is huge and I saw that even more once I was teaching everyday, but it is so huge that it is overwhelming. I don't have answers. I don't know if anyone really does. It is such a grandiose problem that there is not one answer. The problem is, I don't want to sacrifice my children's foundation to a system that I don't believe in.

When Ben and I discuss this he always brings up the argument that the public education system is a representation of our society and that our boys, like it or not, will one day have to function within that society. Point taken. I am entirely willing to expose them to the inherent flaws of the society in which they will live but only once they have a solid foundation for dealing with those flaws. I want them to have a real childhood. I want them to get dirty and messy while learning about science. I want them to run in the woods and build forts during recess. I want them to love and respect their peers because the community they are a part of values that. I want them to think about their classroom as their home and take care of it as such.

Maybe I have too clear a picture of my goal for the boys because I taught in the school where I want them to end up. All I know is that I will fight to the death for them to have a solid foundation. I don't think they will end up as horrible people if I send them to a public school. In fact, I'm sure that, as parents, Ben and I could give them a solid foundation no matter where they go to school, but if I can provide them with an environment that will nurture that foundation rather than counter it then I am going to fight like hell to do it.

One day I will watch each of my boys cross the stage at their high school graduation and I know I will be filled with pride. I know also that what they become and who they will be is entirely up to them once they reach that precipice. I just hope that the decisions I have made up until that point will lead them in the right direction. I suppose that's all I can do...I can give them roots so that they can lift their wings and fly...

Reaching the top of the mountain: the end of nursing

It is official. The twins are done nursing.

I expected a rush of sadness and a feeling of loss, but I can't say that either of these things have really happened. I feel a tiny bit of sadness, I suppose, now that they are both officially done, but mostly I feel relief and pride. I was proud of nursing Kyan for 16 months, but nursing one baby is like taking a nice long walk along a moonlit beach; simple and sweet, and when it ends you feel a bit of remorse. Nursing twins is like climbing a very high mountain; a beautiful walk with lots of rewards, especially at the end, but challenging, and when you reach the top and take in the beautiful view all you can think is, "thank goodness that climb is over!"

I say all of this knowing that my nursing experience was FAR easier than many twin moms, and that many mothers of multiples don't make it as long as I did. Here are a few pictures from the early nursing days:

Ronan's first time!

Mason's first time!

Mason

 

 

 

Happy boys after a tandem session in the hospital!

on the go tandem nursing at 2 months!

Nursing became easier, or so it seemed, around 5 or 6 months when I stopped the tandem act. It meant I had to feed twice as long, but somehow it was more manageable. Then around 1 year they lost their patience with individual nursing. If I tried to nurse them separately the one waiting would FREAK out, so we went back to tandem. Here's an idea of what that was like:

I think Ronan was done and I was trying to keep him from attacking Mason while he finished :)

I have to say that this 15 months has gone so fast. I didn't even write the boys their 1 year letter, or make them a baby book, or compile their first year in video, all things I did for Kyan. I don't know exactly how I'll explain that to them other than to say, "well, boys, I spent all of the time that I would have been doing those things nursing you and recovering from the intense sleep deprivation caused by...nursing you!"

I think I did what was best for my boys, though now and then I wondered if I should have made different choices in order to help my husband and I sleep better and thus be better parents and spouses to one another. I'm not sure I could have justified it to myself, though.

Now the boys are walking, talking, jumping, almost running, and certainly climbing! They can eat most foods and definitely don't need to nurse anymore. The next step is getting rid of the pacifier and that's going to be a hard one!

holding them back from the waves!

I will likely never nurse a baby again (only 'likely' because crazy things happen, so I try not to think in absolutes), and I do mourn that. There is something so sweet and beautiful about nestling with your baby (or babies) and knowing that you are giving them the best food possible for their body. There is a sweet, milky smell about them that only comes from nursing. There is that sense of total calm and peace when a crying baby settles down to the breast and all is right in the world. There are those beautiful moments lying curled together on the bed and listening to the soft sucking and swallowing sounds of a baby. There is so much loveliness about nursing that it doesn't matter what else comes with it, I will remember the beauty instead.

It seems like this step away from me is the boys' first step toward independence. One day they will be like Kyan and only need me now and then. One day all three of them will turn away from me to some degree and take care of themselves. There is a part of me that longs for the boys to be more independent and there is a part of me that feels torn in half at the thought. I know that I have no control, motherhood has taught me that much, but I will hold on and hug them like crazy while I can...because there's nothing in the world as beautiful as my little boys.