Category Archives: Mommy Issues

Birthday(s) for Two

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“I’m going to be 7 tomorrow,” J called out to me as she skipped to the bathroom to brush her teeth for bed last Thursday. “It’s a little magical!”

It’s more than a little magical. I could swear that it was last week that I was bringing J home from the NICU to be reunited with her sister M after 5 days apart. It was about an hour ago that the girls were teething. It can’t have been more than 5 minutes since I heard them read out loud to me for the first time.

But 7 they are. It was 7 years ago that my water broke at 33 weeks gestation. I’m afraid that if I blink, they’ll be running off to college.

Party Time

I’d better wait on that blink, because I have a 7th birthday party to plan and execute. I got an unexpected reprieve from the insanity that is the month of May. I learned that the other set of twin girls in my daughters’ classes was going to have their birthday party at exactly the same time that I was planning M and J’s. I gladly generously offered to delay our party until June, after the end of the school year. A few days later, the other twins’ mom texted me to suggest a combined birthday party. Brilliant! (Except that I’m still going to throw a separate party for J and M’s friends who aren’t in their class. They’ve been talking up their party for so long that I just can’t not invite their dance friends and neighbours, but I’m not going to explode the size of the party my friend has been anticipating for her daughters.)

I used to worry about birthdays. I’m an excellent worrier. How, I wondered during the pregnancy and throughout that first year, would I make each of my daughters feel birthday special when that celebration of uniqueness was yet another thing she has to share with Sissy? I made a point of singing Happy Birthday to each child separately. No “Happy Birthday, J and M,” for us! Each girl got her own birthday cake. I got them different, but coordinated birthday presents. This year will be different. All four birthday girls will share a cake. Each of them gets her own Number 7 candle. We’re celebrating the fact that each pair shares a birthday. That’s pretty special in its own right, and all four girls are thrilled to get to share their celebration with their friends as well as their sister.

My friend B sent me into a tailspin a few years ago. She wrote to our mothers of multiples group asking whether and how she should let her twin sons’ friends know that they were twins. She would be having separate birthday parties for each of them since they didn’t have classmates in common. She didn’t want the guests to feel awkward when they discovered there were two birthday boys. Separate birthday parties! I vowed then and there that if my girls wanted separate parties, they could throw them themselves. I’m a pretty simple girl when it comes to parties. I tend to request that guests not bring presents. “Presence, not presents,” I say. If people must bring something, we’ve asked for donations for the local good pantry. I make a bunch of food, invite a ton of people to a park or other open space, and let the party run itself.

Birth Detail

M and J have been terribly excited about this birthday as they’ve watched friend after friend turn 7 at school. J was quite literally counting down the hours on Thursday evening.

“Mommy, what time was I born?”

“6:33 am,” I told her.

“M!! We were born at 6:33 am! We’ll be 7 in 10 hours and how many minutes?”

Who-was-born-first strikes again. Couldn’t I just have said, “6:30?” Still, it was rather nice to know that both my girls consider their birth(s) to be a singular event. Clearly, they have no problem with a shared birthday. The whole multiple thing is really very special, and my daughters are old and wise enough to know it. They’re wiser than I am.

“J, you were born at 6:33. The doctor had to hand you to some nurses before he could take M out of me. She came out at 6:35, so she was technically born at 6:35.”

M, the master of precision, clarified. “So, it took one minute to give J to the nurses, 30 seconds to come back, and 30 seconds to get me?”

“Something like that.”

“So,” said the always mathematical M, “we have 10 and a half hours left to be 6. I’m so excited to be getting 7! I think I act pretty mature, like a 7-year-old.”

“Except you giggle about farts,” J responded.

And they fell into a giggling mass of almost-7-year-old.

Do you do anything to individualize the birthday experience for your multiples?

Sadia overthinks her parenting decisions in Austin, TX, where she takes a break from single mommyhood by going to her full time job in higher education information technology.

Letting Go

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My in-laws took Toddler to her Mommy and Me class for the first time a couple weeks ago. Originally I planned on taking her with twins in tow two mornings a week because I really enjoy being there with her. But there were two problems with that: 1. I was sleep training babies and taking them out for two hours every other day was not conducive to creating a schedule. 2. When I did take them, I was constantly hovering around their stroller to make sure no unwanted intruders tried to sneak a peek or worse yet, poke my attempting-to-sleep children… so I’d miss a lot of the class anyway. Good thing is, Toddler is very independent and can function in class without me. But still, I’ve made friends with some of the other mommies there, and hearing about the class second hand is just not the same.

So it was with some reservation that I decided to let the grandparents take her. Toddler has never been with my in-laws in any setting other than their home without me. I thought I thoroughly prepared her, and myself, by starting over a week in advance, reminding her of what she can do by herself in class, where to eat her after-class snack, and that she would come home after snack for her nap, like we’ve always done. I had also given the same instructions in a detailed email to the in-laws. I even recruited some mommy friends to keep an eye out and help if necessary. I thought we were ready.

The hand-off went without a hitch on the morning of their first class. I went out to help put Toddler in the newly installed carseat on their car. She’s pretty good about clipping herself in, but I wanted to make sure they would know exactly how to do it too. After a couple last minute reminders and a few “love you”s, off they went.

The coming home did not go nearly as well. From what I could piece together, Toddler did not want to leave after snacks, and I guess she started t0 get whiny. She asked to go play at their house instead of coming home to sleep. I’m sure this is due to a combination of her being tired (I was in the process of moving her nap to match the babies’) and testing the grandparents. To get her in the car, Grandpa told her they needed to pick something up from mommy first, and then they would take her back to their house. So of course when they did get back, Toddler refused to get out of the car. I guess they hadn’t anticipated the one-track mind of a toddler and figured she’d forget. While they stood around chuckling at her brilliance, I got to be physically attacked by my daughter while I wrangled her out of the carseat to bring her inside. Needless to say, not ideal.

I spent the next couple of days ironing out the kinks. More reminders to Toddler, a couple of serious conversations with Husband and the in-laws. Everyone is on the same page now. Naps are not negotiable, and we do not lie to our children. I allowed the grandparents to continue to take her.

Here is the interesting thing that began to evolve: Toddler took on a new personality! Without me around, my “spies” have reported that she is much more outgoing (and she was already outgoing before) and seemed to enjoy the class more. She started dancing and singing along with all the songs, running like a hooligan with some of the other kids, and exhibiting rowdy behavior. We often see this more gregarious side of her at home, but she’s usually more reserved when I take her out. Strange…

I’m still not sure how to feel about this. Like maybe sad that she feels she can’t let loose when I’m there, or maybe relieved that she likes going to class with Grandma (although she does still says she prefers to go with me), or scared because it might mean my in-laws have no control over her behavior?

I do know one thing though: My little girl is growing up, and I will have to come to terms with the fact that I will no longer watch over every aspect of her life. I’m terrified and so proud of her at the same time. Maybe this is all for the best.

lunchldyd is mom to a 3yo daughter and her 5mo brother and sister. Letting go is super hard for her.

Valuing Motherhood

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Thanks to various things, I am valuing my role as a mother more.  I am beginning to understand just how important I am in the lives of my young children.  I (along with their dad) am their everything.  They look to me to know how to react to things, how to learn, how to speak to others, how to love.  A mother is the temperature gauge of her home.  So, if I’m mad, everyone will be in a foul mood.  And if I’m happy, chances are, everyone will be happier.

The sacrifice I make every day to stay home with my children instead of pursuing my own desires will be short-lived and worth every moment if I make it so.  Because, although parenting young children is extremely taxing and challenging emotionally, physically, and spiritually, it is such a short amount of time.  Before I know it, my children will be in kindergarten and then college.  All research shows that these first few years of a child’s life are paramount (even though they won’t remember much of it!).  It sets them up for the rest of their lives!  So though I am not currently helping our family’s financial situation much, or furthering my education, or developing new talents, I am helping our family in many, many ways.  Motherhood is extremely important.  Raising great kids is extremely important.  So I’m choosing to make the best out of my awesome appointment of being a mother of young children.

Doing so means I view my children as gifts, as precious, as pure, as wonderful.  I see their potentials.  I love them fully.  I devote my attention (note I didn’t just say time) to them.  I make them my top priority, not my home, not my grooming, not blogging, not Facebook, not some book, movie, or game – THEM!  I still feel like I am coming into this new frame of mind, of this new understanding of the true value of motherhood, but I am determined to live differently.

And that is what has made me happy again.  I’ve changed my outlook.  I’m stopped comparing (and am slowly stopping the complaining).  I’m prioritizing my life.  And it all feels pretty great.  I’m not worried about keeping up with someone else.  I’m not worried about how others perceive me. And I’m not going to downplay myself, because I know I’m a likeable person, that I’m pretty, talented, and smart.  And I know I am a good mom.

I’m not perfect (in fact I’m very flawed), but I’m content.  I’m at a good point in my life.  I am seeing my purpose differently.

How have you come to view your role as a mother?  How has it evolved over time?

*This is an excerpt from a post on my blog.  Read the entire post HERE.

ldskatelyn is a mother to one set of g/g twins and one newborn son and feels so absolutely blessed to be a mom!  She wants to wish a Happy Mother’s Day to all of her fellow MOMs!  She blogs more on her personal blog.

Are They Natural?

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If there’s one thing that bugs me, it’s people seeing my identical twin daughters and asking whether they’re “natural. I know where the question comes from. People are well aware that there’s an increased chance of conceiving multiples with certain types of fertility treatments. They see a pair of children who are pretty clearly twins, and they want to know whether they were conceived with or without medical assistance.

First, let me answer the question. J and M are spontaneous twins. (Thanks to Goddess in Progress, the founder of HDYDI, for giving me that term to use when I complained about how awkward I found the phrase “natural twins.”) I quit taking birth control pills, waited a month, got busy with my husband, and 7 months later had two amazing daughters.

I’ve never struggled with infertility, so I can’t truly understand what that experience is like. I can imagine, though, that I wouldn’t want to discuss infertility with strangers, especially in front of my children. I would imagine that early attempts to get pregnant, repeated visits to the doctor, diagnoses, perhaps even miscarriages, are none of anyone else’s business. If someone is asking because they’re suffering from infertility themselves and are seeking someone who understands, that’s one thing, but most of the time the question comes from pure nosiness.

When I hear the horrible, “Are they natural?” I sometimes answer, “Yes,” and go on about my day. Sometimes, I say, “They were conceived spontaneously.” Sometimes, it’s, “IVF increases the chances of fraternal twins. Mine are identical.” Once, it was, “Are you asking whether my girls were conceived through unprotected sex? Yep, they were!” I was in a bad mood that day.

When I have the time and patience, though, I try to raise awareness. I say, “I was lucky not to suffer from fertility challenges, but I imagine that if I had, I might not want to talk about it. I think of all the tears I’ve shed over friends’ miscarriages. I’m not sure I consider that a topic for casual conversation.” More often than not, the response I get back is, “I never thought about that. Thanks.”

We have fraternal triplets in the family. I don’t know whether they were IVF babies. It’s not my business.

How do you respond to, “Are they natural?”

Sadia lives with her daughters M and J in the Austin, TX area. She is divorced and works in higher education information technology.

Hard Days

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I read some of the other quad momma bloggers out there, and they are truly super moms.

Or they lie.

Or they don’t blog about the hard stuff.

OK, that’s not entirely true either, over at Littlest Lesnaus, Krista had a blog not to long ago about struggling and finding life difficult.

This past week we had two doctor’s appointments, a PT appointment for Alyssa, and Infant Development twice. School break was coming up for our 4 year old. I haven’t been sleeping well at all.  Not because of babies. I just can’t sleep. Greg had a rough day, then I had a major meltdown.

Twice.

No, maybe three times.

OK, if we’re being honest, perhaps it was a lot of times.

Yup.  It has finally hit us.

We have many visitors in our home… yet life is lonely.

If I hear “oh I don’t know how you do it”, “I couldn’t do it”, “wow you’re organized”, “your babies are always sleeping”, “everything is under control”, I think I might just lose it.

Maybe I have lost it already.

This week maybe I’ll trash the house and screw the schedule.

Friday was a terrible terrible day.  So I checked out of my life Saturday afternoon. I really did.  I left home, and said someone else can deal with it.

And you know, sometimes I wonder if Gods sense of humor is messed up.

Really messed up. No joke this truly happened:

Friday afternoon my sister-in-law said that I could go to their place in Newmarket as they were coming to visit anyways so I’d have the place to myself. Awesome. Friday night, all four babies got sick. No big deal, lots of people around to help.

Saturday morning I got sick.

No big deal, right?

Saturday afternoon, I drove to Newmarket, spenr lots of time in tears, hating the world, not understanding life, but I told myself to buck up and get it together. Sunday morning I thought I’d go out for breakfast.  Car wouldn’t start.

No big deal, I’ll use sister in laws car and deal with mine later.

Drive to Timmie’s, and roll down window. I get my breakfast. Window won’t go back up.  Awesome.

No big deal.  After about a half hour the stupid thing went back up.

Go back to parking lot, then decide, “You know, maybe church is where I should be.”

Drive to church. The pastor speaks, and his first point was how God is the perfect parent.  Are you kidding me?!  Go back to house, call CAA, dude #1 couldn’t get it to start, he calls dude #2 who gets it to start and says, “You better drive straight home. Who knows if it will start again before you get there?” How relaxing is that?

The stupid thing is, the whole time I was away I didn’t read, I didn’t catch up on anything, I didn’t shop.

I laid around and worried about home.  About life.  About my oldest daughter.  About not spending time with each kid.  About the friends that used to call. About the family who doesn’t come. About the people who say “call me anytime” but never answer. About a church that I no longer feel a part of.  About the people I thought were friends that have ignored us completely. About the friends that I’ve helped when they’ve needed it. About the big things. About the stupid little things.

Worked myself into quite the downward spiral.

The more I thought about it the worse it became.

I know there people who care. I do.

I am SO thankful for our parents.

I am beyond grateful for our regular helpers. For the 13 members of the community. For the 6 people from our church.  I am thankful for the occasional helpers who come when they can. For my faithful meal makers. For my fellow mommas who do find time to check in. For our nanny who has been incredibly flexible and loves our kids like her own.

It’s just so flippin’ hard.
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Since writing this post back in March, some things have changed:

  • I have stopped pumping every 3 hours, and have gone to just 5 times a day.
  • I have scheduled life so that at least once a week I have some time to myself.
  • I have admitted that perhaps I cannot handle everything on my own.  In March, I quietly began taking the prescription Zoloft. As much as I hate to admit it, it has helped. While I don’t think I was depressed, I definitely could not find the “off” switch. I would lay awake worrying about things and stressing over daily unimportant things. I would put on a face and say that everything was OK, even though it wasn’t.  I had begun to read more into things people said, and that really wasn’t like me.

So all that to say, “Life is hard, but sometimes we make things harder on ourselves.”

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MrsLubby is a mommy of four cute 6 month old fraternal quadruplets and a 4 1/2 year old, trying desperately to find a balance.

Research-Based Parenting

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“Trust your instincts” is an excellent parenting strategy … but it’s not for me.

I choose not to raise my children the way I was raised. I have a deep-seated worry that if I go with instinct, I’ll fall back on the parenting style I lived with in my own childhood, replete with yelling, threats, and inconsistency. I want better for my children.

Before we started trying to conceive, I spent over a year in therapy. Ironically enough, I originally went in because my husband didn’t understand my reluctance to become a mother. At my first appointment, I told the therapist, “I’m here so you can tell my husband that I’m just too crazy to make a good mother. We just can’t have kids.” A year of talk therapy later, I’d come to terms with my childhood and come to believe that my depression was manageable condition rather than a tragic curse. I felt that I’d slain my dragons and could be the parent I believe that children deserve to have. I read parenting book after parenting book, taking notes on the things that made sense and even larger notes on the things that didn’t. I came up with my parenting credo, making sure that my husband was on board: Our goal is to raise a happy, wholesome, healthy, productive adult.

There’s a reason I overthink.

My research didn’t end when I became pregnant. I peppered first my ob-gyn, then the girls’ pediatrician, with questions. I selected doctors who would partner with me to give my kids the best possible start they could have. I selected a daycare program that would partner with me to raise J and M, not just provide us with a daytime babysitting service. Their infant class teacher knew them so well that I bought my house based on her recommendation. I wanted to situate my daughters to go to the school that their former teacher’s daughter attends. She assured me that it would be a good fit for them, and she was right.

I continue to read. The book that’s had the biggest impact on my parenting is Nurtureshock, published in 2011. I’m currently reading Stepmonster to get some insights into what I can do to encourage the healthiest and most positive relationship I can between my daughters and their new stepmother and stepsisters. There are pieces of Raising Your Spirited Child that I find helpful, but I hate the author’s tone and her suggestion that we need to shape a child’s world to her intensity. Instead, I choose to teach my girls to direct and control their intense reponses, channeling their spiritedness into creativity and community service instead of explosions and hysteria.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in the dance studio lobby while M and J were in their ballet/tap lesson, reading The Foster Parenting Toolbox. Another mom asked me whether I was taking classes. I told her that I wasn’t. I was just beefing up on my parenting. This mom and I have been casual friends for several years, but aren’t particularly close.

“You don’t need to read that stuff!” she said. “All a child needs is love and discipline, and you’ll be fine. You’re a good mom!”

I flailed around for a response. I tried to explain that I feared that being a good mom didn’t come naturally. I needed to read the research and hear other parents’ thoughts to inform my own parenting. I’ve honed my instincts over the years until I’m pretty sure they’re trustworthy, but I still think through every act of parenting. It’s exhausting, but the last place I’m going to let myself get lazy is when it comes to guiding my children, within the strengths and weaknesses that come naturally to them, to becoming happy, healthy, wholesome productive adults.

A lot of people don’t get it. That’s okay. If your instincts work for your kids, good for you. But please, let me overthink with mine.

What’s your parenting approach? Do you run on instinct? Do you research? Do you balance the two?

Sadia overthinks the raising of her identical twin almost-7-year-old daughters in the Austin, TX area. She is divorced and works full-time in higher education information technology. Her overthinking approach works quite well, although she’s now attempting to end the weekly Saturday morning meltdown. First stop, sugar elimination from weekend breakfast.

Achieving Balance

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I think by far the most challenging part of being a Mom of Multiples is balancing the needs of each child with the other(s).

Sure there are the physical and logistical challenges of getting everyone eating and sleeping, and generally managing our days, but what really frustrates me is the mental and emotional challenges of who/what to cut out when times or situations don’t allow for everyone to get what they need/want.

Before the twins, Toddler got undivided attention, from at least one parent, all the time. Now she’s lucky if she gets some attention from one of her parents some times. This has been a tougher transition for me than for her, but there are times she feels neglected and becomes extra needy (especially bedtime, when she knows she will be alone).

She is also coming to an age where socialization is important for her development. I no longer have the time to take her many places where she can get that interaction. I need to start her in some sort of structured class soon, but I feel really badly because her napping schedule that has been in place for at least 1.5 years will get screwed up. I’m also afraid of the illnesses she will inevitably be bringing home to the babies. I currently have her enrolled in a Mommy and Me class twice a week, but we will have to go with twins in tow.

Which brings me to the babies. They are unrelenting in their need for food, diapers, and stimulation. It’s a never-ending 3-4 hr cycle individually for each baby, on a good day. Lately, they’ve been going through a growth spurt, and actually reverse cycling as well– this upheaval when I thought we were nicely settled in our nighttime sleep (I must have jinxed myself by posting!). I’ve been tracking their sleep and feeds to see if any sort of pattern will emerge, but so far after nearly a month, all I see is that everything is still all over the place. I want to be able to work in outings that don’t interrupt their napping, but at this point with no specific naptime, that issue is pretty moot. Nevertheless, I know if I take everyone out to the park (which Toddler and I need), the babies will not sleep the way they do when we’re at home, and whether that’s a good or bad thing, I’m sure it is not helping them get on a routine.

The babies also don’t get bathed daily, only twice or three times a week, but I remember Toddler got a leisurely daily bath starting the day her belly button stump fell off. I feel I’m shortchanging the twins by not bathing them daily, but it’s easily a 30 minute ordeal with both babies getting a bath, a frantic one in which I’m trying to beat the clock before they become overtired or Toddler gets herself into something she isn’t supposed to. And choosing to give them a bath is always at the expense of doing something else.

I am lucky that they are infants and will never remember this time in their lives. I can screw up the schedule for one day and it’s usually reset for the next. They are unconditionally loving and forgiving, which makes me feel even worse.

We are also lucky to have kids who don’t constantly have to be held. They can all fare pretty well alone with some toys to occupy them. But there are times when all three need my attention at once. And that definitely makes for some craziness around here. I wish I could split myself 3 ways, but realistically maybe I should just hope to somehow sync everyone up so that their times don’t conflict (babies nap during Toddler’s bedtime routine), or work all three kids into the same routine (babies do their bedtime ritual with Toddler).

When is it the babies’ turn to get uninterrupted sleep? When is it Toddlers’ turn to go out and get some fresh air? With only one of me and 24 hours in a day, how does everybody get what they want/need?

lunchldyd is mom to an almost 3 yr old daughter and 4 month old b/g twins, struggling to find balance.

Talking to Kids About Chronic Illness

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My 6-year-olds love going through the drive through pharmacy. They’re fascinated by the hardware that allows me and the pharmacist to send clipboards, debit cards and medications back and forth without my having to leave the driver’s seat of my car. They never tire of the box magically closing just before it disappears into the cavern above our heads.

While we were waiting for my refills and debit card yesterday, M wanted to know what the medicine was for. I told her I’d explain on the way home. I needed a few minutes to gather my thoughts.

I have clinical depression.

I didn’t say I was depressed. I’m not depressed. My emotional and mood responses to the challenges in my life are proportional and appropriate. I see the little joys in my day. My temper is completely under control. I don’t find myself needing to examine my every thought to determine whether it’s a real one or the product of a brain that isn’t working right. It doesn’t take an all-consuming act of will to get out of bed, eat, or breathe. Not any more.

I explained to my daughter that, many years ago, I started having horrible feelings of sadness. There wasn’t a reason to be sad, at least not as sad as I felt. Some mornings, my brain would tell my body to sit up, but my body wouldn’t listen. The sadness was controlling my body. I went to a doctor and a counselor–my daughter knows about counselors because her school has two amazing ones–and tried to fix things by thinking about my feelings, talking about my feelings, understanding my feelings. It wasn’t enough. I tried all the things we practice at home to manage our feelings: deep breaths, time out, reading a book, writing about our feelings, asking for help. It just wasn’t enough.

Finally, my doctor told me that I have an illness called “depression.” Everyone’s brain has chemicals in it, just like all other parts of the body, to make sure it works right. For some reason we don’t understand, some of my brain’s chemicals were missing. (I figured that 6 was a little young to go into serotonin reuptake. “Missing chemicals” would have to do.) The doctor recommended that I take medicine to help. I didn’t want to take medicine to put new chemicals in my brain. That sounded scary to me.

“This is a scary story!” my daughter interjected.

I asked if she wanted me to stop. She wanted to hear the ending, so I continued.

I started taking the medicine. After a few months, I felt better. My body started listening to my brain, and I felt happy. When I did feel sad, there was a reason, and fixing the reason fixed the sadness. My brain was all better.

When I decided to have babies, I didn’t want those medicines in their bodies. Their brains probably would never need them, and it’s not a good idea to have medicine in your body that you don’t need. With a doctor’s help, I stopped taking my medicines, and I still felt fine.

I had my beautiful little girls. (M smiled at that.) For four years, I felt just fine. Then, one day, the bad sadness came back. I recognized it right away this time. I went back to the doctor, and told them that I had depression and that it was making me feel sick again. He asked me to try the medicines that had worked before, and they worked again.

“So if you don’t take your medicine, you’ll be sick?” M asked.

“I don’t know,” I told her. “I’ll probably just be the same that I always am, but this sickness, depression, might come back and make my brain sick again. Since the medicine helps make sure that I stay healthy in my brain, I keep taking it. There may be a good reason to stop taking it some day and be careful about watching my brain health, but for now, I think I should keep taking it.”

“Okay,” she said. And that was that.

J looked up from the book she was reading. “Did you say something about being sick?”

I told her we’d talk about it another time.

Sadia is a divorced mother of precocious 6-year-old identical twin girls. She works in higher education information technology and has her depression well managed. She hopes that some day, the stigma of mental illness will go that way of cancer stigma. She believes that knowledge is power. So is compassion.

"I Had No Idea She Had a Sister"

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J is standing in front of wall of art, showing off her paint and collage chameleon.Our local performing arts center recently hosted an exhibition of elementary art from around the school district. One of my twin 6-year-old’s works was selected for display.

I confess that I’d completely forgotten about the open house. When I picked the girls up from after-school care Wednesday, I planned to take them shopping for shoes. They reminded me of our priorities, in a hurry. We made it to the exhibit by the skin of our teeth, a minute before the teachers began to dismantle the displays. While the artwork has been up for several weeks, the open house/teacher meet-and-greet was 2 hours only.

M had been the one to remind me of her sister’s exhibition. “We can’t go shoe shopping,” she told me, “because sisters are much more importanter than selves. We have to see J’s chameleon.”

J spotted her piece within seconds of our arrival. While we were oohing and aahing, her art teacher arrived. Once the handshakes and hugs were over with, the art teacher said to J, “I didn’t know you had a sister!”

“They’re actually in the same grade,” I told her. “Twins.” I immediately felt an urge to slap my forehead. Why did I need to volunteer that? What difference does it make? This was J’s moment to shine.

On cue, M’s art teacher arrived, saw M, hugged her and introduced herself to me. “I just love having M in my class,” she gushed. “She’s such a hard worker, and so articulate!”

J’s teacher looked M’s, and said, “Did you know she had a sister? I had no idea J had a sister!”

“No, I didn’t know. M’s a wonderful student!”

This moment was why I chose to have my girls in separate classrooms. They’re independent enough that I didn’t think it would hurt to be apart, and I wanted them to learn that they excel and are valuable as individuals as well being on display to the world as a pair.

M was a little perturbed on the drive home. “I don’t think I’m a very good artist,” she said. “I wasn’t picked.”

I quickly corrected her. “No, sweetie, that’s not it at all. I think the teachers had to limit themselves to one piece per grade, and yours just wasn’t the one your teacher picked for first grade. You’re an excellent artist.”

M perked right up. “J got picked. I just love her chameleon.”

J was miffed. “You’re just being jealous.”

I started to say, “No,” but M interrupted me. “I’m not jealous! I’m proud of my special Sissy.”

And I’m proud of my special girls.

Sadia’s 6-year-old daughters attend a dual language first grade program in a public school near Austin, TX. She feels very fortunate to be in a school district that can still afford to include music, art and physical education, as well as the Spanish and English immersion experiences. Sadia is a single mom and works in higher education information technology.

Breaking Bad Habits

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Husband went back to work last Tuesday. After an extended paternity leave of 3.5 months, during which we decided he would reevaluate his career for better work/life balance, he has now rejoined the working world. I no longer have my comrade in arms, battling the daily fight. It is now solely up to me to keep things running at home– a good chance to break some bad habits that we have negligently allowed to form in these hectic months.

Toddler

1. Running around like a hooligan.

Nearly 3 means plenty of energy. When she’s gotten her full 11 hrs sleep at night or 2 hr nap, she’s ready to go. In our sleep-deprived haze, we got lazy and started letting her run and shout around the house to expend her energy. No time to take her outside, to the park, or even direct her attention to other activities, she’s gotten a little too used to the house being her playground. The babies didn’t mind when they were infants, but they are getting to be more aware of their surroundings now, so it’s becoming a problem. That, and the hooligan part.

2. Yelling when demands aren’t met.

Somehow, she’s also learned that yelling gets her attention. There are times when her demands for a cup of water, for another sticker, for us to change the channel just can’t be met right away. We are feeding babies or otherwise occupied doing something else. We answer her with “wait” or “no” but lately that’s only gotten us the same request, louder and louder, until we give in or she cries.

3. Watching cartoons while eating.

It was just easier to let her watch Nick Jr while she ate. Kept her from peppering us with random questions or worse to demand our attention. Now, she can’t eat without a cartoon on TV? Bad, bad, bad.

Twins

4. Not on a schedule.

Sleeping and eating willy nilly is kind of expected in newborns just home from the hospital, but they’re 3.5 months old now. Time to get on a schedule. Bad habits inhibiting this include: Randomly screaming in the middle of a nap and going back to sleep, Pretending to be hungry and then not eating, or my favorite, I spit my paci out but now want it again. This is priority number one, and I think I’m making a little progress from this previous post about E.A.S.Y.

Myself

5. Being anal.

I’m pretty regimented, controlling even. Goal-oriented is what I call it. I tend to see my role at home as the commander of the health and happiness of my children, and I like military precision. Routines are a big deal when you’re a child (I know this from my 9 years of teaching), and they’re a big part of Toddler’s life. In fact, my in-laws have joked that I’m the “sleep Nazi”. These last few days, trying to get all three kids in sync has been driving me crazy. Any two would be a breeze, but throw in the third one and the gears fall off. It’s like they know.

Actually, the daytimes are pretty good. The twins’ schedules are aligned, Toddler is behaving, we’re all enjoying our time together, and then the “witching” hour (or two) hits and all hell breaks loose. Babies want to be fed when it’s time for Toddler’s bath (even if they’ve just been fed and are peacefully sleeping), or they get overtired while I’m still working on putting Toddler to bed (when she is at her worst with the stalling and whining). Add to that the fact that I also need to squeeze in some pump time, during which I cannot tend to anybody, and the great day we might have had becomes a distant memory. I get frazzled and frustrated– the only thought that runs through my head is that it is just plain unmanageable.

And I stress myself out. I have chronic neck and shoulder pain because that’s how my body manifests stress, and lately there have been a few tension headaches too. I’ve always looked with disdain at parents who disregard their kids’ nap and bedtimes, but in a way I really envy them. When it gets bad, all I’m thinking about is when is the next feeding, how long have they slept, have the diapers been changed– so that the day just becomes a series of countdowns. I have to remind myself to stop and enjoy the moments.

My daughter has probably inherited/learned some of this from me (see my post on Toddler Rituals), and I don’t want her to have a life of anxiety and stress, so I’ve just got to quit it.

ALL really much more easily said than done. Toddler’s bad habits are behavior issues. I’m in the process of changing those already. She’s young and malleable so we’re good there. Babies’ bad habits have to do with their maturity. I’m sure as they get older they’ll get better, and I’ll get more experienced with their signs too. HOWEVER, the last one has plagued me my entire life. I am a perfectionist as well as an over-achiever, and throw in some major control issues too. I don’t know how to fix myself.

lunchldyd is mom to an almost 3 yr old daughter and 3 month old b/g twins in Los Angeles, trying very hard to do the scariest thing: lose control.