Two years on the mountain

This Friday, June 8th, Mason and Ronan will be 2 years old. I am having a somewhat hard time processing this event. I have a birthday party planned for which I have done absolutely NOTHING to prepare. I have gifts purchased. I took them to their two year well-check. I have mentioned the event to them and tried to teach them to say, "I am 2 years old" while holding up two fingers. But, that's it. Beyond these simple things (which may or may not have all been performed within the last 48 hours) I think I might be in denial. 

one day old

How can they be 2? I mean, really? and at the same time, how can they be ONLY 2!!?? They still don't sleep through the night much of the time. We get about 2-3 good nights to every 1 bad night. I guess that's improvement, but if someone had told me that we would still be struggling with sleeping all night long when the twins turned 2, I might have thrown in the towel. On the other hand, they talk like a couple of 3 year olds and their comprehension blows my mind. I forgot that when they hit this transitional age you can truly start getting them to understand what you want from them. It's so cool. But, then again, half the time whatever you ask of them results in a 3 minute temper tantrum that cannot be soothed by ANYTHING. Sigh...two. two year olds. TWO OF THEM!!!!

almost 2

When I found out we were having twins I don't think I was capable of thinking this far ahead. I could see VERY distant future, but I kept myself going through the first two years by only anticipating tomorrow. Now I am faced every day with the question of whether or not to stay home (easier physically) and listen to the boys fight, cry, whine, and sing random songs at top volume 50% of the time OR head out into the world (that is, by they way, very ill equipped to handle TWO 2 year olds) and chase, shout, jump, cry, or elbow my way through some sort of toddler entertainment while simultaneously juggling the very specific desires, complaints, and needs of a 5 year old. 

Today it went something like this:

They boys are a bit sick so I figured I would stay home rather than exposing the world to their illness, so I planned nothing. However, at 9 am, after 3 rounds of breakfast, 3 temper tantrums per 2 year old, 1 temper tantrum from 5 year old, 2 knock down drag out fights between two 2 year olds, one fight between a 2 year old and a 5 year old, and 4 recitations of the "clean up, clean up" song in order to restore dumped baskets, bins, or shelves to order, I was DONE. So, I decided we would go to the library. It's always a crap shoot. The twins go in in a stroller, but will no longer stay in the stroller while looking for books, but we go early enough that it's almost empty. So we went. It could have been worse except for the fact that each time I put Mason into his car seat I had to wrestle him down to a sitting position and hold him in said position while simultaneously strapping and buckling the car seat. Same deal for the stroller, which was lovely while IN the library and attempting to check out books to leave. Next we attempted to get some groceries and lunch at New Seasons. This went as well as could be expected. No explanation needed. Once home I wrestled both of the 2 year olds into their room and into bed. Once there it took them about 20 minutes to settle down and go to sleep. That was 30 minutes ago. One just now started to cry. I am SO ignoring him. 

I really struggle some days with staying calm. Something I read said I am not supposed to blame my feelings or frustrations on the kids, at least to their face. So, I can't say, "Kyan, Mommy is VERY frustrated by the way you're acting. OR Mason, that hurts Mommy's feelings when you do that." Yet I find myself saying these things constantly because I have to tell SOMEONE. If I don't talk to another adult between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm I begin to lose my mind. I am ready for wine by noon on those days and I have to count the minutes until 4 pm (which I deem a somewhat reasonable time to commence drinking). I am supposed to keep my voice even and calm. I am not supposed to yell or scream at them. or say, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" or "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!??" Some days I do great at this. Other days I basically follow the above script to a tee while feeling like a horrible mother the entire time. So I figure they are only about 50% screwed up, right?

I had no idea what it would be like to have three kids, which is why I wasn't sure if I wanted to have another one after the second one, but the universe apparently had plans for me. I have been so blessed by my children and I wouldn't change a thing. You know those moments where you try to imagine one of them not being there, you know mostly just to ease the burden, and suddenly your chest gets tight and your eyes start to sting and you can't form a coherent thought for fear that thinking it could make it true? yeah. that's how I feel. I've tried to imagine my twin pregnancy as a singleton pregnancy and I've tried to imagine having just Mason or just Ronan as the second child and having the third child be a question mark in my mind, but it's impossible. The only acceptable truth is that there were two to make three. Life would not be possible or bearable without each one of them. They are the Harper boys; my little train of men following along behind me making mischief and noise wherever they go. I think that sometimes the things that are hardest are the things that make life beautiful. This sure ain't easy, but it sure is beautiful.

A Vision for Pheraby

This week has been a challenging one. The morning of Kyan’s birthday I learned that a beautiful young girl left us far too soon. She was a very special little girl, which is how I see her still even though she was 16, and her beauty and uniqueness were part of what defined the year I spent teaching in the Fire Mountain community. During that year I joined a group of people that came together with the common desire to give their children the best foundation they possibly could; a group that had roots that spanned back decades to an original group of parents with a vision. One of the highlights of my time there was a little girl named Pheraby. This little girl was brilliant, sweet, and unique. There was an awkwardness to her, but it was a sweet and delicate kind of awkwardness. She was a sensitive soul and in her loving community she thrived. She thrived because the culture of kindness and respect that SHOULD be everywhere was alive in her small community. 

The problem is that that culture of kindness is not everywhere and the tragedy is that our world at large continually perpetuates a lack of decency. We are not a kind or even a decent culture. Sure there are kind people in our world, decent people in our country, and in our communities, but these people are like a pile of sticks trying to hold back a tidal wave. We allow our children to be saturated by media that TEACHES them to be unkind. I cringe when I watch some of the media that is considered acceptable for preschoolers. The girls and boys are MEAN to one another. The writing makes it seem funny, normal, and even acceptable to bully someone or insult someone. It is tragic. I watch my son mimic that behavior, even though his media is extremely limited, because he sees it everywhere, it is part of his culture no matter how hard I try to keep it from him.

When I taught at Fire Mountain School I was not yet a parent so I understood a lot less about the parents I worked with than I do now. I was young and I was not perfect, in fact I’m not sure I was even a “good” teacher then, definitely not a “great” one. But, what I did understand then, despite my age, was that there was something very special happening in that tiny little school and that I was a part of it. I would lead parents around on tours of the school and talk to them about the foundation of education and human interaction that Fire Mountain could provide and they would leave as converts, ready to drop everything and join our little community. I sometimes wondered, after those tours, if I would be good in sales, but then I realized that the only way I could be that good at selling something is if I believed in it the way I believe in Fire Mountain’s mission. 

When I imagine what I want for my sons’ education I see them growing up in that community with all of its perfect imperfection. I see them starting a merchant system in the woods using squirrel tails as currency; learning the basics of society through unstructured play. I see my boys holding a circle of kindness around their peers so that each one of them can flourish and grow and become the person they deserve to be.

I don’t know what happened to Pheraby once she left the safety of Fire Mountain and became a part of a much bigger, less perfect community, and I don’t know if what happened to her is because of the imperfections of the world at large. What I do know is that she had a wonderful childhood and she was loved and supported by so many wonderful souls who will carry her with them in their hearts and in their memories for the rest of their lives. 

The other night I had the extreme honor of seeing many of those children from my year at Fire Mountain grown up and glowing. They were glowing with youth, with knowledge, with love, and that night with grief. They were bound together by the invisible thread of their childhood experiences, and now they are bound together by their love and loss of Pheraby. They were already exceptional human beings, but now they may have just a bit more reason to be exceptional, a bit more drive to go out into the world and pass on the lessons they learned in their childhood. Pheraby’s father said to the group the other night, “something good has to come of this, it has to.” I believe it will. I believe each and every one of those young people will fight to make the world a better place, a kinder place, because they are fighting for Pheraby; They are bound to her and she to them and that bond will change lives. 

Dear Kyan,

Yesterday you turned 5. I can’t believe that five years have already passed since you came into my life. A lot has happened in five years, but still it seems like only yesterday!

I thought when you turned 5 things would get so much easier for me because you would suddenly do everything for yourself and behave with great control and politeness. I was wrong, but it’s a good kind of wrong J You are so much like me that it almost scares me. You insist on doing everything for yourself and when you can’t do something that you wanted to do for yourself you get extremely upset. You are a little too smart for your own good and your memory is so amazing that I’ve wondered if it’s photographic. You have a sweetness and a loyalty that you get, at least in part, from your Dad. You love your friends with a fierceness and also with a hint of possessiveness. You are still young enough to love your Mommy and Daddy and to give us lots of hugs and kisses and let us hold you on our laps and love you. I dread the day when you are too old for these things. You and I used to talk about your freckles and how you would get more and more as you get older. You have a smattering across your nose and I love every single one of them!

Yesterday for your birthday we celebrated with a few friends at PDX Playdate, which was your choice. Then we had a lovely dinner in the backyard with just a few other families and with Nana and Papa. You were more spoiled by presents than I expected, but you were so happy that it was worth it! After everyone left, even though it was already past your bedtime, you got to stay up late and watch Star Wars for the first time ever. Now I am no longer the mean Mommy who keeps you from your heart’s desire. It’s nice to give in for once. I think you were pretty happy with your birthday and you felt loved and celebrated.

You have so many years left in your life and it is hard for me to imagine that you will one day be spending them without me there by your side every day. I guess I have to enjoy the 18 years that I know for sure you will be spending with me and appreciate each moment. You want to grow up so fast, just like I did at your age. Today you had to go potty and you walked right past the ladies room and went into the men’s room all by yourself. You were so proud when you came out, even though it wasn’t your first time. You also got three shots today and you were so determined not to cry. I watched your face grimace and you wanted to cry out so much, but you stayed strong and you didn’t cry. I wanted to cry for you, because it was one more sign that my little boy is growing up. You will always be my baby no matter how old you get and how far away from me you may travel. You and your brothers are the best thing I have ever done in my life and I can’t wait to see you grow and change into men. I think every mother mourns the loss of her babies while celebrating the triumph of her children into adults. I celebrate your growth even as I yearn for the little boy stomping around in rain boots and a diaper and dancing to his baby boom box! Happy Birthday, my first born boy! I love you so much!

Love,

Mama

 The twins are almost two and last night during my writing circle this is the story that came to me. I hope that I have written enough about them to make it clear to them that they are and were loved. I often feel guilty because I have not followed their every movement and change the way I did with Kyan and recorded it and bound it and sealed it in a time capsule of love...I hope I remember the most important things, but before I forget I will do my best to write about them!

 Each Enough

He was like a puckered old man; the redness of his face advertising discontent, the bulge of his eyes begging answers, his cry shrill and harsh under the fluorescent lights of the operating room. They placed him in the crook of my right arm and I glanced at him quickly before turning back to the round little cherub with the whittled dimples and shock of dark hair who lay in the crook of my left arm. I turned back and forth from one to the other, feeling more anxious with every turn of my head. I finally began to cry, not the tears of happiness you would expect, though I was indeed happy, but tears of frustration and confusion. I had just spent fifteen minutes bonding with the cherub while pushing out the little old man, who came feet first as if he were already running, and now here I was holding both of my little men and I didn’t know who to look at first. The little old man just kept crying and I wanted to reach out to him, to smooth his wrinkled forehead, to give him a finger, or better yet a breast, to soothe him, but my arms were so full.

On the other side the cherub wriggled, trying to catch my attention again so that I would do some more of that long staring and smooth stroking that had graced the first fifteen minutes of his already blissful life, that is until the screaming old man had come along. I realized for just a moment that he was already learning how things would be, he was already coping with sibling rivalry, but I pushed the thought aside because it was too much to handle in that moment. Instead of gazing in his eyes, I began to cry and my chest heaved and my arms began to ache and the staff of nurses and doctors just danced their post delivery dance around me. At some point I felt the doctor deliver one, then two placentas, and still my arms ached and my heart felt full to bursting.

The old man quieted down and the cherub was taken by his Daddy to find a new window into bliss. I looked into the bulging, questioning eyes of this little old man and I knew him then: he was the trickster that did yoga poses in my womb, the acrobat who moved my sternum up and out more and more each day he lived inside of me, the boy who tickled my ribs with his bobbing head and kicked his brother with his happy feet. There was a fullness of being in him even then, even in utero when so much was yet unknown. He seemed pleased to have displaced the little cherub from my arms and he almost smiled at me then; a smile that said then, as it does still, I know I am loved no matter what I do. I held him tightly and felt the fear slip away, the fear of that moment when I held two and felt that I only knew one. The moment had finally come, the moment that I had worried and agonized over for months while lying inert on my left side watching eight tiny limbs dance circles around my humongous belly. What fear can be greater than the fear that I will not be enough…not enough mother, not enough love, not enough strength, not enough guts…the fear that two will weigh so much more than one.

Finally, they are both together again, bathed and nursed, silent and still, lying on a pillow that circles my still round and mountainous belly. Their heads nestle close to one another, their tiny hands twitch and I think of the movements that are now before me, but were once within me, and again I cry…I cry this time because my arms are strong, my heart is full, and we are, each one of us, enough.

the old man

the cherub

Bliss, Guilt, and Weaving

I did it again...I took time away from the family for my own relaxation and renewal! It was fabulous, but also punctuated here and there with feelings of guilt...Leaving my poor sweet friend with my three terrors as well as her own two kids for five hours, only to hear (in a text that didn't reach me until after I regained cell service on the way home) that Kyan had been playing with knives in the kitchen and scared the bejesus out of her. Then there was this nagging feeling that maybe the reason Kyan has been acting out lately is the recent increase of time I am taking for myself...to which my dear friend (who was joining me for said relaxation and renewal) promptly replied that I was being ludicrous...I hope she's right.

The bottom line is that parenting is hard and we need to take space now and then. I hate to say it for fear of offending working parents everywhere (keep in mind that I once was one!), but that time away from home when other parents go to work is a blessing that sometimes goes unrecognized. I have mornings where I seriously want to run after Ben's car as it pulls out of the driveway and scream, "TAKE ME WITH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!" It's not that I don't love being home with the boys, trust me, I thank the stars everyday that I am not juggling teaching full time with mothering three boys. The problem is that if I don't take time away from them then I don't cherish my time with them nearly as much. I don't "get off of work" at any point during the day (or the night for that matter), so I need to take some scheduled mental health breaks!

So I set the intention to take some space for myself...I am taking a writing workshop that meets each week and doing a few other day long workshops. I have a book club that meets once a month and actually talks about the book we read (there may also be wine involved). I took two days and nights to go back to Breitenbush and sit around in hot water all day and eat amazing vegetarian food. I even went out one night not long ago to see my beautiful friend sing...It was crazy to be "out" again and of course I stayed out a bit too late and had to pay for it in the world of motherdom the next day, but it was worth it!

I truly believe that taking this time to myself brings me clarity and I am much more grounded in my ability to mother my children...well, at least to mother them well. It is much easier to take this time now that I am home with them everyday. I know that when I was working I felt nothing but guilt when I did things for myself, so I just stopped doing them. Sometimes I want to laugh when I look back at those days and remember how difficult I thought it all was...but, it was...I guess difficult is what difficult is when you are in that moment. Right now I have reached difficult on a whole new level.

Twins are hard. I guess most people wouldn't dispute that fact, so I won't bother defending myself with a paragraph long dissertation about why twins are hard, but I feel the need to acknowledge that they Are. Really. Hard.  They are also amazing. I suppose that is the guilty critic in my head that is apologizing for admitting that I am not a supermom who flies through my days wondering how other people can complain about the difficulty of raising children...I wish I was that mom, but I'm not. They are amazing...AND...amazingly hard.

So, I spent some time soaking and talking and soaking and eating and talking and soaking and talking and eating and sleeping and eating and soaking...and, it was fabulous. I experienced that strange reality where people see me as myself rather than the frenzied mother chasing her three children around various places. It was neat, but it also felt a bit wrong. I felt like I was telling people about my boys whenever I got the chance because then there were people there who could actually see me as who I really am. I am me...that person in and of myself...but, within that person is that frenzied mother and she cannot truly be separated from myself. I suppose that's the point, isn't it? No matter what we do or where we are we will always be both of those people. We cannot go back to a time when we were not mothers and BE that person again. There is a cord that binds us tightly to our mothering self and no matter how far away we may attempt to stray, it will hold us tight. That is easier for me to envision; what's difficult for me to envision is that the opposite is true as well: That self, the one before the kids that we see as just us without the mother self, that self is always there, too. We are also bound to that person and that person is bound to us. Writing reminds me of that. When I write I hear her voice, I feel her pain and her joy, I become her and I weave her in and out of my mothering self.

This is where I think I am going with the intentions I have set for myself. I am attempting to tighten that weave so that I can feel the entirety of myself in everything that I do. If I can weave a big beautiful blanket then perhaps I can hold it tight around myself when I begin to lose my way...

Time Out of Mind

Where has the time gone?

Well, it certainly hasn't been directed at my blog, I'll tell you that much. It is something of a mystery to me that I can look at something I enjoy doing so much (writing) as a chore and ignore it for months on end. I tried to determine what it is that makes me do this and the best I can come up with is that I am so exhausted by being a mother that in the moments of free time that I find myself with throughout the day my only desire is to do things that do not require thinking AT ALL.

Coming to this particular conclusion made me realize something else: the twins are going to be two in 3 short months and I am STILL stuck in survival mode. You know how people tell you that the first year is the hardest and they promise you'll get to sleep through the night eventually...? Yeah, well, Kyan taught me that the first year thing is a myth, but the twins have taken it to a new level:
We still do not sleep through the night. We have one child in bed with us for a minimum of two, but average of 5, hours a night. Our pediatrician actually told me that our family probably accounted for 10% of their business this winter. Ben and I sometimes forget to say hello to one another and don't realize it until the kids are in bed and we walk out of Kyan's room. In fact, Ben and I went on our first overnight date, since the twins were born, a couple of weeks ago. We had a great time, but on Sunday morning after waking up at 8 am (which felt unnaturally late to us) we weren't sure what to do with ourselves. We eventually found ourselves walking around downtown Portland with coffee in hand at 11 am and expressing how boring life is without kids. Ben finally said, "let's just go home. I kind of miss them."

I suppose this also illustrates how much we love our kids. They are so fun and crazy. Our house is a VERY loud, but never boring place to be. Kyan is growing into an incredibly hilarious little man. The other day at Costco he wanted to get another sample of something and I told him that the polite thing to do was to only take one. He REALLY wanted another one, so I told him he could ask the woman if it was okay. He walked up to her while I pretended not to be watching, but he couldn't spit it out. He finally came back to me and I realized that his shirt was backwards. I asked him why and he said, "I turned it around so she wouldn't recognize me." SERIOUSLY?! I was quite amused by his cleverness, though the woman giving out the samples seemed to think it was a tad bit naughty. Oh well...at least he's a clever naughty boy!

So from what I understand of parenthood so far it is a stunning combination of love, excitement, frustration, desperation, and futility. There is absolutely nothing like it in the world...although I did read a very good blog post comparing it to climbing Mt. Everest...It seems to me that, just as in life, we feel completely misunderstood by anyone who is not living the same reality that we are right this moment as parents. I had a woman tell me today that she thinks her situation is harder because her daughters are only a year apart and she thinks twins would be easier. Case in point. Any of my twin friends would understand how wrong it is to say that to a mother of twins.

I love being a mother. I love being a family. I am also learning to truly love and appreciate the moments that I take for myself outside of these things. Though, when I do take this time I feel sort of out of place in the normal kid-free world. I kind of want a sign on my chest that says "mother of three. taking a break.", so that I might attract others who are more like me. It's strange. Someday I am going to look back on this time and I am going to miss it terribly, yet I constantly dream of a time when all three of my boys will be more independent. Yet another lesson of motherhood...love it while you've got it. I think I'll focus on that one this week...

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.