I come from a family of yellers. One might not be surprised that having alcoholics for parents and loud family arguments kind of go hand in hand. It wasn't until I was 30 something that I put 2 and 2 together and understood why so many family dinners dissolved into screaming and fighting and crying. As a child I also couldn't figure out why the arguments always went so wrong; I was constantly misunderstood and consequently constantly defending myself. I developed a deep emotional wound that even the smallest misunderstanding could trigger and send me into paroxysms of explaining and apologizing until I would hopefully be 'let off the hook' by those I offended.
Exhausting.
My husband comes from a quiet family. Now admittedly, this may have been in reaction to their own family histories. Grandma on one side was known for dish throwing and temper, my guess is she wasn't quiet about it either. So her child naturally was drawn to a quiet person who dealt with their feelings in a calm way. Oh heck, my mother in law never gets above a 5 on the loudness meter even when at her angriest.
My husband chose me, however, so this aversion to emotionally demonstrative and slightly verbally intense women seems to skip a generation now and then. I instantly felt out of place in their house when I went for the aforementioned grandma's funeral, I was the bull in the china shop. My family would have feelings all over the place, including the good ones like funny stories about the deceased. Here I felt like I was in a monastery, which is emphatically not where I fit in.
However, I loved the peace and silence at times. I've written before about christmas in this family and how delightful a drama free season was (well, as drama free as it could be since my mom knows how to dial a phone,) and how I relished the safety of a home like that. Now it doesn't mean that people weren't thinking things I suppose but it sure seemed like a judgement free atmosphere and certainly no one yelled. Ever.
Except me. The funny thing is that I only have to raise my voice 2 levels to be accused of yelling by my husband. I often pause in confusion thinking, I wasn't yelling? You wanna hear yelling? But the main point of this essay is my feelings on yelling at my children. Good God, does anyone really WANT to yell at their children? There are long conversations in my triplet online group about our guilt that our triplets regularly push us so far with their behavior that we end up yelling at them. Half the time it has more to do with our tiredness or our being sick more than them really behaving any differently than usual, but those with children will agree that some days? Those kids are just full of terrifying ideas.
And they seem to hone in on when you're vulnerable due to some other trauma going on in your life and really sock it to ya that day. And you could have your best poker face on and be singing along with them when they decide to just say no to everything you say or ignore you or pick on a sibling until you are a roiling ball of rage with veins popping out all over while you shriek like some lunatic about what the heck is wrong with them anyway?
And when you're yelling you tend to say things that you really never meant to say. Things your parents used to say to you: "Why are you doing this to ME?" "What is your problem?" and "Why are you being so bad?" Those may seem minor but to a kid who isn't always sure that you love them all the time no matter what it can be poison. It can seep into their souls and convince them that there IS something 'wrong' with them. That there's some horrible side of them that makes them a bad child and that deep down inside there is some dark part of them that no one would love.
Or at least that's what happened with me, so I can't let it happen again. Mommy needs to take more time outs. Kids respect time out. Kids might learn something about being a grown up or how to control their own anger by watching mommy take a moment to calm herself instead of screaming whatever comes into her head. This, of course, is way harder than one might think. The rage is like lightening for me, one minute I'm handling the children calmly and rationally and the next the control line has snapped and I'm grabbing and spitting and yowling like a rabid cat. My own rage from childhood even feeds into the lack of control because I'm recognizing that I am not in control and my being their mother is not 'good enough.' Just like the way I was not in control as a daughter and never a 'good enough' daughter.
It's amazing and terrifying. I want to be a loving role model to my children and have a house of peace, not crazy drama like my own childhood. I am not an addict, so that's a step in the right direction, now I've got to get my rage under control. It is not fair to visit the sins of my father (and mother) upon my children. Thank god I'm already in therapy.
An old mom with triplets plus one and an elderly mom to take care of. It's a party all the time.
Showing posts with label triplets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label triplets. Show all posts
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Murphy's laws of too many children
1. Just when you get the baby to sleep a triplet will wake up. Especially if it's 3 am.
2. Once you get the triplet back to sleep the baby will reawaken or you just won't be able to sleep.
3. If one triplet awakens and screams for 10 minutes, no one will awaken......until you have gone back to bed and are juuuuuust falling asleep. Then triplet #2 will awaken.
4. When an illness descends upon the family each kid will get it 2-3 days apart so that you have a minimum of 6 days of high level whininess. Meanwhile you will also get the stupid cold but no one wants to hear you whine.
5. At least one child out of 4 is having a bad day EVERY DAY.
6. What one kid has, every kid must have. RIGHT NOW.
7. Even though everyone has one it's still not the one they want.
8. There's never enough.
9. If mommy's doing it, I want grandma to do it. If grandma's doing it, I want mommy to do it.
10. I don't care if I liked it yesterday, I don't like it today.
11. There are always more problems than you have hands to handle them.
12. At least one kid probably hates you every minute of the day.
13. Everyone on the outside thinks you're mother of the year.
2. Once you get the triplet back to sleep the baby will reawaken or you just won't be able to sleep.
3. If one triplet awakens and screams for 10 minutes, no one will awaken......until you have gone back to bed and are juuuuuust falling asleep. Then triplet #2 will awaken.
4. When an illness descends upon the family each kid will get it 2-3 days apart so that you have a minimum of 6 days of high level whininess. Meanwhile you will also get the stupid cold but no one wants to hear you whine.
5. At least one child out of 4 is having a bad day EVERY DAY.
6. What one kid has, every kid must have. RIGHT NOW.
7. Even though everyone has one it's still not the one they want.
8. There's never enough.
9. If mommy's doing it, I want grandma to do it. If grandma's doing it, I want mommy to do it.
10. I don't care if I liked it yesterday, I don't like it today.
11. There are always more problems than you have hands to handle them.
12. At least one kid probably hates you every minute of the day.
13. Everyone on the outside thinks you're mother of the year.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
This is not a pity party
When you're raised in a family where the parents are a narcissistic alcoholic and bipolar who never had a childhood, you learn to take care of yourself.
Scratch that. You learn to take care of everyone else BUT yourself.
You tiptoe around the house trying not to set off the alarms. You roll along under the radar behaving yourself but for your back talk, which, for some reason, is mostly tolerated in this family. You may even scream and scream, literally, to be heard, but you wont be. But you don't learn that taking care of yourself is of prime importance. Because the whole family is about taking care of your sick mom.
And when your brother dies, and your mom falls apart - more - you grow up fast and take on more responsibility. And more. You collect friends around you who are dependent upon you. You attract needy people like flies and wonder why you're so tired all the time. And why you're depressed too.
And then you have a family of your own. You frantically run around (figuratively more than literally) trying to be everything to everyone. Sure, you get a massage now and then. And you do sit on your butt after everyone's asleep instead of doing laundry or cleaning the house. And you make your children crap for dinner instead of real meals, but in your mind you are constantly on guard. You don't know how to let them take care of themselves. Not even your grown husband. You are afraid to sleep train the baby, even though you did ok with the triplets. You are concerned you're messing them up for not having dinner with them at a table every night instead of eating later when it's quiet. There's always something you could be doing.
In theory, you have to run out of energy at some point. But in 38 years I haven't. I do take care of myself in certain ways. I am pretty good at fighting for a few minutes to myself even if it's at the expense of couple time. But I am afraid. Am I going to go so far in the other direction from my parents that I actually create narcissists in my own children? Will they learn that they have to take care of each other, me, their dad or grandparents and themselves in fair amounts? Will they turn into the opposite of me like I did my parents? Is it possible, in the first generation, to create a different story?
And when things come out of my mouth that sound just like my mom and dad like "what is wrong with you?" can they forgive me? Because nothing is wrong with them. They're just being 2. My mom watches them and shakes her head with the honest belief that something is wrong with them. I merely have a momentary thought of 'what has gotten into you' and I can see the difference, but can they? Will they think I think poorly of them because I do too much for them? Will they think I think they're stupid because I help them do things?
How do you parent well when you have not been parented well? How do you not go so far off the other end and create a whole different set of traps? Therapy is helpful, but when those kids have driven you to the edge of your sanity and you haven't slept in weeks and you just want to sit down and eat some damned lunch if they would just nap like they're supposed to......how do you not yell the things you grew up hearing at them? "Why are you doing this to me?" "I'll give you something to cry about" "Don't talk back to me missy!"
I know no one is the perfect parent but I'd like to be middle of the road. Is it possible?
Scratch that. You learn to take care of everyone else BUT yourself.
You tiptoe around the house trying not to set off the alarms. You roll along under the radar behaving yourself but for your back talk, which, for some reason, is mostly tolerated in this family. You may even scream and scream, literally, to be heard, but you wont be. But you don't learn that taking care of yourself is of prime importance. Because the whole family is about taking care of your sick mom.
And when your brother dies, and your mom falls apart - more - you grow up fast and take on more responsibility. And more. You collect friends around you who are dependent upon you. You attract needy people like flies and wonder why you're so tired all the time. And why you're depressed too.
And then you have a family of your own. You frantically run around (figuratively more than literally) trying to be everything to everyone. Sure, you get a massage now and then. And you do sit on your butt after everyone's asleep instead of doing laundry or cleaning the house. And you make your children crap for dinner instead of real meals, but in your mind you are constantly on guard. You don't know how to let them take care of themselves. Not even your grown husband. You are afraid to sleep train the baby, even though you did ok with the triplets. You are concerned you're messing them up for not having dinner with them at a table every night instead of eating later when it's quiet. There's always something you could be doing.
In theory, you have to run out of energy at some point. But in 38 years I haven't. I do take care of myself in certain ways. I am pretty good at fighting for a few minutes to myself even if it's at the expense of couple time. But I am afraid. Am I going to go so far in the other direction from my parents that I actually create narcissists in my own children? Will they learn that they have to take care of each other, me, their dad or grandparents and themselves in fair amounts? Will they turn into the opposite of me like I did my parents? Is it possible, in the first generation, to create a different story?
And when things come out of my mouth that sound just like my mom and dad like "what is wrong with you?" can they forgive me? Because nothing is wrong with them. They're just being 2. My mom watches them and shakes her head with the honest belief that something is wrong with them. I merely have a momentary thought of 'what has gotten into you' and I can see the difference, but can they? Will they think I think poorly of them because I do too much for them? Will they think I think they're stupid because I help them do things?
How do you parent well when you have not been parented well? How do you not go so far off the other end and create a whole different set of traps? Therapy is helpful, but when those kids have driven you to the edge of your sanity and you haven't slept in weeks and you just want to sit down and eat some damned lunch if they would just nap like they're supposed to......how do you not yell the things you grew up hearing at them? "Why are you doing this to me?" "I'll give you something to cry about" "Don't talk back to me missy!"
I know no one is the perfect parent but I'd like to be middle of the road. Is it possible?
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Parental fear
I was reading an article on post partum depression the other day and I came across a peculiar symptom they listed as a sign that you have it: fear of being left alone with your kid(s).
Um, I've been afraid of being alone with my triplets since they were 3 months old.
I started off with confidence. I was planning on being a stay at home mom anyway, so now I'd just be extra busy, right? After I finally got all three triplets at home I really wanted to try it on my own so I sent the mother in law home to Illinois and started in on my new life. I was practically fearless. I mean, what could happen?
RSV. That's what. For those of you without children, RSV is a typical cold for grown ups that can kill infants. It smothers them with snot. Days after the kids got home from the NICU they came down with colds. The fevers meant I had to get them checked and each time I took one to the doctor they failed the blood oxygenation test. In other words, they were not getting enough oxygen by breathing on their own. They all ended up in the pediatric ward for 3 days on oxygen and having the snot sucked out of them by this dastardly machine they have invented. It was a wee bit scary but under control I suppose.
So after they all got home from the hospital from that, my husband thought it was finally time for him to go back to work. Monday morning he headed out. We had a normal morning, except that it seemed like J went a little blue when I fed him, but I was sure it was a trick of the lighting. He was fine otherwise, and the blue was just around the mouth and his eyes were red but just for a bit.
Yeah I know.
So then it was hours later and I started feeding him again. This can't be right. He's looking all funny again. Red raccoon eyes and blue around the mouth. But RSV is only supposed to be deadly in the first 72 hours! What is going on? My parents were still in town so I called them to come stay with the other two triplets and headed off to the ER. At every stoplight I reached back and checked if my infant was still breathing. I hit every stoplight on the way of course. By the time I reached the ER he was grey. I got fastracked in you might say. His oxygen saturation was 85 or so. Not ok.
That was my first day alone with the kids.
But that wasn't all it took. After several days alone again it was time to bathe the kids one by one in the infant tub in the kitchen sink. It seemed that apparently the other two refused to be left alone at this particular juncture. Screaming ensued. Each time I'd exchange one kid for another they'd change places. the one being bathed was happy as a clam. The other two? Banshees.
Then they started the witching hour business. Have you ever had 3 infants screaming inconsolably at you for even 5 minutes? It is insanity producing. It actually makes you want to grab one and beat the other two with it.
I didn't have post-partum depression. I had post traumatic stress disorder. It's a wonder I don't have flashbacks today. It's a wonder I don't wake screaming in the night trying to swaddle my husband while binkying a cat and bottle feeding the table lamp.
So, being afraid to be left alone with your kids? Somewhat understandable. At some point I called my mother in law and begged her to come back. And then I told her she was never allowed to leave again. These days I try to work myself into some sort of calm state when I'm to be left alone with the kids. Last week when grandma had to head home due to being sick as a dog and I had to handle bedtime alone? It was a challenge I was kind of excited about. And the next night when I had to do baths alone? No problem. But the fear strikes initially. That old feeling that I have no chance in surviving the onslaught of triplets plus one on my own. And then I realize that I can and will be ok.
As long as I have a glass of wine.
Um, I've been afraid of being alone with my triplets since they were 3 months old.
I started off with confidence. I was planning on being a stay at home mom anyway, so now I'd just be extra busy, right? After I finally got all three triplets at home I really wanted to try it on my own so I sent the mother in law home to Illinois and started in on my new life. I was practically fearless. I mean, what could happen?
RSV. That's what. For those of you without children, RSV is a typical cold for grown ups that can kill infants. It smothers them with snot. Days after the kids got home from the NICU they came down with colds. The fevers meant I had to get them checked and each time I took one to the doctor they failed the blood oxygenation test. In other words, they were not getting enough oxygen by breathing on their own. They all ended up in the pediatric ward for 3 days on oxygen and having the snot sucked out of them by this dastardly machine they have invented. It was a wee bit scary but under control I suppose.
So after they all got home from the hospital from that, my husband thought it was finally time for him to go back to work. Monday morning he headed out. We had a normal morning, except that it seemed like J went a little blue when I fed him, but I was sure it was a trick of the lighting. He was fine otherwise, and the blue was just around the mouth and his eyes were red but just for a bit.
Yeah I know.
So then it was hours later and I started feeding him again. This can't be right. He's looking all funny again. Red raccoon eyes and blue around the mouth. But RSV is only supposed to be deadly in the first 72 hours! What is going on? My parents were still in town so I called them to come stay with the other two triplets and headed off to the ER. At every stoplight I reached back and checked if my infant was still breathing. I hit every stoplight on the way of course. By the time I reached the ER he was grey. I got fastracked in you might say. His oxygen saturation was 85 or so. Not ok.
That was my first day alone with the kids.
But that wasn't all it took. After several days alone again it was time to bathe the kids one by one in the infant tub in the kitchen sink. It seemed that apparently the other two refused to be left alone at this particular juncture. Screaming ensued. Each time I'd exchange one kid for another they'd change places. the one being bathed was happy as a clam. The other two? Banshees.
Then they started the witching hour business. Have you ever had 3 infants screaming inconsolably at you for even 5 minutes? It is insanity producing. It actually makes you want to grab one and beat the other two with it.
I didn't have post-partum depression. I had post traumatic stress disorder. It's a wonder I don't have flashbacks today. It's a wonder I don't wake screaming in the night trying to swaddle my husband while binkying a cat and bottle feeding the table lamp.
So, being afraid to be left alone with your kids? Somewhat understandable. At some point I called my mother in law and begged her to come back. And then I told her she was never allowed to leave again. These days I try to work myself into some sort of calm state when I'm to be left alone with the kids. Last week when grandma had to head home due to being sick as a dog and I had to handle bedtime alone? It was a challenge I was kind of excited about. And the next night when I had to do baths alone? No problem. But the fear strikes initially. That old feeling that I have no chance in surviving the onslaught of triplets plus one on my own. And then I realize that I can and will be ok.
As long as I have a glass of wine.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged
It all started innocently enough. A friend posted this to her Facebook:
Ferry Building Farmers Market: one mom, infant triplets, a bus of a stroller. Brave, insane, inconsiderate? Discuss....
And fairly begged me to comment via text. For those of you who don't know, the Ferry Building is a crowded old building crammed with people during the farmer's market. Any size stroller is a pain in the butt there to move around, much less a triple wide. I own a triple wide and I only think it's fit for wide open spaces like the zoo. But I have the luxury of owning more than one stroller. So I said:
Desperate? The poor woman probably can't get out wo them but she could use a double and a baby backpack if you'd prefer! Would be a little more considerate
And thought that was the end of it. But then this appeared:
wait...are we supposed to discuss the stroller or fertility treatment...which can also fall under the categories of brave, insane, inconsiderate. just saying...
Oh ho! Picking a fight with an infertile woman are you? Well then. Here we go again. It definitely inflames the hell out of me that people see a woman with a multiple pregnancy or offspring and instantly 1. know they did fertility treatments (even though triplets do come spontaneously people, even quints do) and 2. get to judge the use of such treatments just because more than one baby came of it.
WTH? So, if I had done fertility treatment and only had one baby I'm above judgement? If I had just accepted my infertile status I'd be above judgement or perhaps even saintly? I'm sorry, did you accept the mole growing on your face or did you get it removed? Did you accept your cancer diagnosis or did you get treated for it? Did you accept that you couldn't walk due to a birth defect or did you get physical therapy and canes to walk with?
What's the difference?
So I lay in bed fuming this morning thinking about it. These young women who have not experienced infertility passing judgement on those who have is inexcusable. First, as women, we should stick together. We don't need beat downs from each other. Second, as a woman, you should understand something about what being infertile might do to your psyche that a man might not. Third, if it doesn't affect you, bug off.
Asking a woman to just get over being infertile is like asking a life long runner to get over not being able to run ever again. It's like asking a life long lover of books to just get over being blind. It's like asking a teacher to get over never being able to speak again. It is a part of (most) women's being that they are procreative. It is part of who we assume we are at birth, we can be mothers whenever we want to be. In theory. When you are hit in the face with the reality that you can't? It's trauma. What you do with that trauma is your business.
And if the doctor tells you that you have less than a 20% chance of having any babies at all with your eggs and so he throws the book at you with every hormone in the book and 6 shots a day and you still only produce 3 viable embryos? You put them in your uterus. And if, by some miracle, against stunning odds, all three of them implant and grow? You are just lucky as hell. Not someone to be judged.
Just lucky as hell.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Nobody knows....
A lady turned to me in the deli today, while my infant was fussing in his stroller, and said "Oh how I miss those days!" Much to what I imagine was her dismay I said in response "you can have them." Then I realized how I sounded and amended it with "today," so she could understand it was a particularly bad day, not that I never wanted the kid at any time. But how could she forget so easily that 'these days' are regularly horrific? I mean, I admittedly have forgotten exactly why I was miserable when the triplets were infants, probably something having to do with lack of sleep and constant eating, pooping and crying, but I didn't forget that I was miserable. I know I used to overcome the sheer magnitude of the job of packing them all into their car seats, popping them into the triple decker stroller and going for a walk when they wouldn't sleep just so I could have some quiet time in my head, but I also remember thinking how unfair it was that they then got to sleep and I had to walk. I mean how does that really help my sleep deprived state?
So, to take a trip down memory lane, I went back to some posts I made to my triplet friends way back when to see if I was just as miserable as I feel today after a practically sleepless night unaided by a sleepless morning and a nap interrupted by the stupid Fedex guy (timing anyone?) Let's see what I find, oh wait, this sounds familiar:
So, to take a trip down memory lane, I went back to some posts I made to my triplet friends way back when to see if I was just as miserable as I feel today after a practically sleepless night unaided by a sleepless morning and a nap interrupted by the stupid Fedex guy (timing anyone?) Let's see what I find, oh wait, this sounds familiar:
I'm having a bad day. My babies got their vaccines on tuesday and it's been hell ever since. I have crabby babies who want to eat at random times and cry at the drop of a hat. I mean raelly, the slightest noise. And if one cries the rest follow. I just had a good cry.
Wow, let's try another one, shall we?
Well I've already cried and it's only 7am. The night nanny said it was the worst night ever with them since she started, we've been giving them Mylicon every other feeding and they had horrible gas all night apparently. Don't know what to do next, switch foods or jump off a cliff? So then it's my turn and while they're all peacefully sleeping when she walks out the door, that doesn't last but 30 seconds. DD needs to eat, fine I can handle that, then DS number one starts fussing, then DS number 2 and it all goes to heck because I can't take the time to make anyone completely happy. So they're all crying and fussing and writhing and alternately eating and burping and sitting quietly and at some point I lost my mind and just cried...sigh.
I need a new job.
Ok, well it's clear that I was just as miserable back then. And now I don't get the same sympathy as I had when there were three. I mean, anyone can handle one infant, can't they? I'd just like to see them do it for 5 weeks 24/7 without crying hysterically at some point. I mean no person is any fun 24/7 for 5 weeks straight, especially when you have to do everything for them. I guess I won't be a nurse for the comatose anytime soon.
You know what's really funny? When I miss the attention I used to get for walking a triplet stroller down the street because everyone passing me has their own stupid baby and mine is nothing unique. At least I used to get sympathy from random strangers. Now they all coo at the baby when I'm at the deli but no one knows I have 3 more at home. No one knows I am not glowing with first baby happiness...
Nobody knows...the trouble I've seen. (imagine deep gospel baritone singing old slave spiritual. I sang this song in high school and I know it shocks you all that I'd remember such a sad and self pitying song but I did.)
Ok, bloggy pity party is coming to an end. I'm going back to read more of my old posts from when the triplets were making me cry helplessly on a daily basis. It's truly interesting. I don't suppose I've grown one stinking iota since then. Sigh.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Pernicious pitfalls post pregnancy
So, apparently, according to the breast feeding book I just read, I'm supposed to feel inadequate. It's the nature of the job. Because the kid is always growing and demanding more milk and the boobs have to catch up every few weeks, after a day or two of cranky, demanding, pain in the butt baby behavior, then one really is inadequate, food-wise, on a regular basis and there is nothing you can do until the boobs do their catching up.
That's just great.
Because I never felt inadequate before. Oh no. I haven't spent my whole frickin' life feeling inadequate in some way or another. Who doesn't? Jerks I suppose. Egotistical jerks. Perhaps it's all an act though, because how can you feel adequate in every stinking department?
Eh, well what are ya gonna do? I'm the one who chose to have a fourth kid. Now that doesn't mean I don't get to complain about it. It goes with my belief that I get to feel sorry for myself whenever I want to, no matter if the responsibility for the suckage in my life is mine. I don't see how it matters who's at fault, I can still have a pity party.
But mostly I'm just scared.
The logistics of handling three toddlers and a newborn infant befuddles me. You can't plan with a newborn. They eat whenever they feel like, and if you feed them at 5, thinking then at 6 you could be free to bathe and put your triplets to bed they will wake up at 5:58, fart loudly and say "not so fast Red, get back here and feed me again."Oh yes, they will ruin any and all plans you have. Should you feed them in the morning and head out to get a 'mommy deserves it mani-pedi' thinking you have an hour or two of sleeping infant to count on, he will wake up the minute your hands are soaking in rose petal water, burp, barf, and say "you think you get mommy time? I no think so."
(It's funny, his voice has a lovely hispanic accent and nasal tone in my head, so that sounded more like "Ay noo theeeenk sooo" as I typed it. I'm guessing that with non-hispanic parents he is unlikely to come out with an accent once he starts speaking though.)
And the other thing I wonder about is when to start looking for post partum depression. I mean the hormones are running rampant. I don't even know what I, the real me, think anymore. Is it the hormones throwing chairs at my husband or is it really me who's pissed off? Do I really hate breastfeeding with a passion that could light infernos in a cold hell? Or do I just need to wait for the hormones to wear off? And so, when do I need meds for this crazy in my head? Certainly before I kill one of the kids. But if today the screaming of the infant was particularly pernicious, is it starting or will tomorrow be better?
I have no idea how I'm going to handle the next few months. The triplets will not be bathed and will have to climb into their own cribs at night, the infant will be fed, albeit angrily and resentfully by the boob lady, the husband will be neglected until he all but walks out, and the cats will be lucky if their litter boxes ever get emptied, but I suppose I'll make it out the other side. I mean how much worse can a fourth be than three at once?
(Um, the answer, apparently, is impossible btw.)
That's just great.
Because I never felt inadequate before. Oh no. I haven't spent my whole frickin' life feeling inadequate in some way or another. Who doesn't? Jerks I suppose. Egotistical jerks. Perhaps it's all an act though, because how can you feel adequate in every stinking department?
Eh, well what are ya gonna do? I'm the one who chose to have a fourth kid. Now that doesn't mean I don't get to complain about it. It goes with my belief that I get to feel sorry for myself whenever I want to, no matter if the responsibility for the suckage in my life is mine. I don't see how it matters who's at fault, I can still have a pity party.
But mostly I'm just scared.
The logistics of handling three toddlers and a newborn infant befuddles me. You can't plan with a newborn. They eat whenever they feel like, and if you feed them at 5, thinking then at 6 you could be free to bathe and put your triplets to bed they will wake up at 5:58, fart loudly and say "not so fast Red, get back here and feed me again."Oh yes, they will ruin any and all plans you have. Should you feed them in the morning and head out to get a 'mommy deserves it mani-pedi' thinking you have an hour or two of sleeping infant to count on, he will wake up the minute your hands are soaking in rose petal water, burp, barf, and say "you think you get mommy time? I no think so."
(It's funny, his voice has a lovely hispanic accent and nasal tone in my head, so that sounded more like "Ay noo theeeenk sooo" as I typed it. I'm guessing that with non-hispanic parents he is unlikely to come out with an accent once he starts speaking though.)
And the other thing I wonder about is when to start looking for post partum depression. I mean the hormones are running rampant. I don't even know what I, the real me, think anymore. Is it the hormones throwing chairs at my husband or is it really me who's pissed off? Do I really hate breastfeeding with a passion that could light infernos in a cold hell? Or do I just need to wait for the hormones to wear off? And so, when do I need meds for this crazy in my head? Certainly before I kill one of the kids. But if today the screaming of the infant was particularly pernicious, is it starting or will tomorrow be better?
I have no idea how I'm going to handle the next few months. The triplets will not be bathed and will have to climb into their own cribs at night, the infant will be fed, albeit angrily and resentfully by the boob lady, the husband will be neglected until he all but walks out, and the cats will be lucky if their litter boxes ever get emptied, but I suppose I'll make it out the other side. I mean how much worse can a fourth be than three at once?
(Um, the answer, apparently, is impossible btw.)
Friday, February 12, 2010
Two years ago today
Two years ago today I was sitting in a hospital bed after a traumatic night that finished my resolve to hold those triplets inside me until 36 weeks. I met with the doctor and told him my last ounce of strength was gone and if he wanted them out I was ready.
Two years ago today I took pictures of my gigantic belly, not even realizing how gigantic it was, but documenting for all time the strains and stresses my body went through to make those gigantic triplets of mine.
Two years ago today I had no idea what kind of adventure I was embarking upon but I thought I could still be a stay at home mom without a nanny. I thought I could handle it by myself since I would have no job other than mom to handle.
Two years ago today I knew I wanted to be a mom desperately, I knew I wanted a large family, and I knew I wanted to be 'only' a mom, the working world wasn't my game long term.
Two years ago today I went into surgery and came out a changed woman, having survived a terrifying cesarean and blood transfusions and complications unexpected. I didn't even get to see or meet those triplets of mine until the next day.
Two years ago today I saw a side of my husband I'd never seen before. The guy who can handle me being incapacitated and seemingly take control and reassure me and never act as scared as he felt. The guy who put it all aside to stand by me during a surgery wherein people cut me open and reached up inside me within his visual range, while surgical fluids coursed through a tube right in front of him, then 7 hours of a scary recovery, watching his wife struggle to come back to the strong, healthy, take charge woman that she usually is while desperately wanting to meet his own children who had been whisked away to the NICU in their premature state. I fell more in love with him that day.
Two years ago today I popped out the coolest, funniest, best looking set of triplets anyone has ever seen. Sure, they were pretty strange looking at first, being all old looking and hairy:
But they have sure turned into some good looking children with fantastic attitudes, interesting personalities and stubborn independence that bodes well for success in this crazy world. Wouldn't be our children if they weren't pains in the butt.
Congratulations to the best triplets in the world on making it through 2 years with me in charge!
Two years ago today I took pictures of my gigantic belly, not even realizing how gigantic it was, but documenting for all time the strains and stresses my body went through to make those gigantic triplets of mine.
Two years ago today I had no idea what kind of adventure I was embarking upon but I thought I could still be a stay at home mom without a nanny. I thought I could handle it by myself since I would have no job other than mom to handle.
Two years ago today I knew I wanted to be a mom desperately, I knew I wanted a large family, and I knew I wanted to be 'only' a mom, the working world wasn't my game long term.
Two years ago today I went into surgery and came out a changed woman, having survived a terrifying cesarean and blood transfusions and complications unexpected. I didn't even get to see or meet those triplets of mine until the next day.
Two years ago today I saw a side of my husband I'd never seen before. The guy who can handle me being incapacitated and seemingly take control and reassure me and never act as scared as he felt. The guy who put it all aside to stand by me during a surgery wherein people cut me open and reached up inside me within his visual range, while surgical fluids coursed through a tube right in front of him, then 7 hours of a scary recovery, watching his wife struggle to come back to the strong, healthy, take charge woman that she usually is while desperately wanting to meet his own children who had been whisked away to the NICU in their premature state. I fell more in love with him that day.
Two years ago today I popped out the coolest, funniest, best looking set of triplets anyone has ever seen. Sure, they were pretty strange looking at first, being all old looking and hairy:
But they have sure turned into some good looking children with fantastic attitudes, interesting personalities and stubborn independence that bodes well for success in this crazy world. Wouldn't be our children if they weren't pains in the butt.
Yeah, I know this isn't a birthday pic. Give me a day at least people.
Congratulations to the best triplets in the world on making it through 2 years with me in charge!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Mommy's not enough
I just don't understand certain things sometimes. For one, why I don't have that magical mommy touch that makes everything better for my children yet. I don't mean it really cures things, just that somehow it should make them feel like everything is better just because I'm there. I am hurting right now because it happened again.
Because my mother brought another illness into my house I have three sick kids, right? They are doing their thing where they each have a terrible night and tonight is B's. He was up there since bedtime hacking and coughing and sometimes whimpering because he can't sleep in between all the hacking and coughing, naturally. Finally, he's outright crying, and who would blame him, he's exhausted. So I grab my Children's Motrin and a syringe and head up there to medicate him, hoping it would make his cough calm down or at least soothe his throat.
Well, first you have to get the medicine in them. And why, when they are perfectly happy to swallow pink candy medicine during the day, are they so resistant once it's after bedtime? It's the same stuff, it's the same person giving it to them. I have yet to give them medicine that tastes bad so what's the deal with the refusal? So I struggle with him and eventually get the 5ml in him only to have him immediately cough and barf all over the place.
Now admittedly B has a talent for barfing. This boy cries until he barfs quite effectively, although it's tapered off a lot since infancy when he used to projectile vomit his formula seconds after you finished feeding him. But when he's sick? Watch out. Any excuse to vomit and he'll be the one doing it. But this is a stupid cold folks and the medicine tasted like freaking bubble gum. WHY DID YOU BARF???
So, now he's hysterical, I have to change him and the sheets and the other two in the room are asleep so I must maintain some way for them to stay that way or face the triple threat scream fest. I throw him in the next room pack and play and try to calm him down. That's failing so I go change the sheets and clean up in the nursery. I come back, change his pjs and try to calm him down.
This is where I run into the problem. I sit in a rocker, I soothe, talk, rock, try to find a nice position for him, all to no avail. He's hysterical unless I let him sit on my knee and play with the footstool. Why is laying against momma's breast while being rocked and sung to not the answer? Why am I not that person to him? And really very rarely to any of them?
I want them to relax in my arms and fall asleep while I rock them. They don't want any part of that. I want them to hear my voice and calm down, I want them to let me sing them to sleep. It makes me hurt and furious when it doesn't work. What did I do to create this?
I have an inkling it's because they're triplets and I couldn't do it much when they were infants. There was no rocking to sleep, there was a lot of singing but at some point they figured out singing translated as 'go to sleep' and even objected to that with wails now and then. I mean, I hear about people with single babies who have to slowly wean their toddlers off of needing to be rocked in their arms to sleep or something and I'm flabbergasted but it couldn't have happened with three, right?
So is that all it is? Or am I not warm enough, did I miss some key moment to show them this thing I can do, or is it not what toddlers want or what is it?
Because, honestly? It breaks my freaking heart. I want to rock them and soothe them after a sick moment or a nightmare. I want being held in my arms to be automatic comfort to them. I want a kid to fall asleep in my arms. I want to be that mommy. Why am I not?
Because my mother brought another illness into my house I have three sick kids, right? They are doing their thing where they each have a terrible night and tonight is B's. He was up there since bedtime hacking and coughing and sometimes whimpering because he can't sleep in between all the hacking and coughing, naturally. Finally, he's outright crying, and who would blame him, he's exhausted. So I grab my Children's Motrin and a syringe and head up there to medicate him, hoping it would make his cough calm down or at least soothe his throat.
Well, first you have to get the medicine in them. And why, when they are perfectly happy to swallow pink candy medicine during the day, are they so resistant once it's after bedtime? It's the same stuff, it's the same person giving it to them. I have yet to give them medicine that tastes bad so what's the deal with the refusal? So I struggle with him and eventually get the 5ml in him only to have him immediately cough and barf all over the place.
Now admittedly B has a talent for barfing. This boy cries until he barfs quite effectively, although it's tapered off a lot since infancy when he used to projectile vomit his formula seconds after you finished feeding him. But when he's sick? Watch out. Any excuse to vomit and he'll be the one doing it. But this is a stupid cold folks and the medicine tasted like freaking bubble gum. WHY DID YOU BARF???
So, now he's hysterical, I have to change him and the sheets and the other two in the room are asleep so I must maintain some way for them to stay that way or face the triple threat scream fest. I throw him in the next room pack and play and try to calm him down. That's failing so I go change the sheets and clean up in the nursery. I come back, change his pjs and try to calm him down.
This is where I run into the problem. I sit in a rocker, I soothe, talk, rock, try to find a nice position for him, all to no avail. He's hysterical unless I let him sit on my knee and play with the footstool. Why is laying against momma's breast while being rocked and sung to not the answer? Why am I not that person to him? And really very rarely to any of them?
I want them to relax in my arms and fall asleep while I rock them. They don't want any part of that. I want them to hear my voice and calm down, I want them to let me sing them to sleep. It makes me hurt and furious when it doesn't work. What did I do to create this?
I have an inkling it's because they're triplets and I couldn't do it much when they were infants. There was no rocking to sleep, there was a lot of singing but at some point they figured out singing translated as 'go to sleep' and even objected to that with wails now and then. I mean, I hear about people with single babies who have to slowly wean their toddlers off of needing to be rocked in their arms to sleep or something and I'm flabbergasted but it couldn't have happened with three, right?
So is that all it is? Or am I not warm enough, did I miss some key moment to show them this thing I can do, or is it not what toddlers want or what is it?
Because, honestly? It breaks my freaking heart. I want to rock them and soothe them after a sick moment or a nightmare. I want being held in my arms to be automatic comfort to them. I want a kid to fall asleep in my arms. I want to be that mommy. Why am I not?
Friday, January 8, 2010
The scales of relativity
So I guess it sounded like life's still sucking in my last post. I should make it clear that on the actual scale of suckitude I am quite low relatively speaking. I mean there's the suck scale of not pregnant, not raising triplets without a crazy mom and then there's the suck scale I live on permanently which should be the one I refer to and on that all inclusive scale, I'm doing well.
I hate to be the negative blog poster so some of the reason I've been so silent this month is due to things being a bit harrowing. But the harrowing part is passing and so now's the chance for me to grab the chance to blog about how it's all better. Here comes the sun and all that. I mean let's list the positives:
1. I am still pregnant. Despite my heart trying to overcompensate by sending my blood pressure into the atmosphere and my kidneys giving me a wee scare by spilling protein enough to make the doctor send me to get steroid shots in case the kid comes early, it's actually going 'well' compared to last time. Thankfully, my doctor is back from vacation so the fact that I spent last week actively mourning the loss of a natural birth prematurely, due to seeing an OB who might be termed hysterical, is all in the past. I'm a little bitter about all that emotional trauma but the truth is back on line and I might still push this sucker out the normal way. I just have to keep calm and mellow and stress free and relaxed. Ha Ha Ha Ha freaking ha.
2. My mom only ruined a tiny bit of Christmas. And I predicted the manner in which she'd do it. Somehow, at the age of 75, my mom is still not able to take care of herself in a responsible manner. Thus, a cold turns into pneumonia no matter how many people are telling her to rest, take meds, see a doctor and that she's actually really sick. So I ended up taking her to the ER Christmas Day. Delightful. But it wasn't Christmas Eve, the important one, so let's call that a victory. The fact that she wants to blame everyone else around her for her visit to the hospital? Typical. Doesn't even make me raise an eyebrow. Really. No really.
3. The triplets did, in fact, have 87 colds, flus and viruses over the course of November and December. No really. I slept maybe 2-4 hours a night for over a month there. And pregnant. I cleaned up a heck of a lot of barf. And poo. And the good news? I was too tired to blog about it. This one's good news for you people. Not me. But my good news? It's over. Until the next one.
4. I did survive no nannies for 10 straight days. I had a few fun experiences like taking the kids for walks around the neighborhood where they got to explore whatever they wanted. That was fun. I knew it could be done but it was exhausting and I almost didn't make the last 2 days. Because they were still not letting me sleep. And then with mom in the hospital I couldn't nap at naptime because a good daughter visits her ailing mother. So, come day 9? I almost killed a kid. Or a husband. Whichever makes you like me better.
So, see? All positive. I am spending this week recuperating, contemplating paperwork and bills, re-imagining my birth scenario, and being shocked at how much more uncomfortable one baby rolling around inside me is than 3. I have figured out that the triplets must have kicked each other a heck of a lot more than they kicked me because if this is how much they were kicking? I escaped quite unscathed. This little beastie rolls around, rearranging my organs and making me breathless with a little pressure to the diaphragm while dragging the other leg down the front of my abdomen in a positively alien manner.
And apparently he needs baked goods. Now.
I have been eating baked goods for approximately 48 hours now and there's no end in sight. Thank goodness I haven't gained weight in 2 weeks so I have a pound or two to spare. Oh, wait, no I don't because I started out 30 lbs over. Ah damn. Well, what's another cookie?
I hate to be the negative blog poster so some of the reason I've been so silent this month is due to things being a bit harrowing. But the harrowing part is passing and so now's the chance for me to grab the chance to blog about how it's all better. Here comes the sun and all that. I mean let's list the positives:
1. I am still pregnant. Despite my heart trying to overcompensate by sending my blood pressure into the atmosphere and my kidneys giving me a wee scare by spilling protein enough to make the doctor send me to get steroid shots in case the kid comes early, it's actually going 'well' compared to last time. Thankfully, my doctor is back from vacation so the fact that I spent last week actively mourning the loss of a natural birth prematurely, due to seeing an OB who might be termed hysterical, is all in the past. I'm a little bitter about all that emotional trauma but the truth is back on line and I might still push this sucker out the normal way. I just have to keep calm and mellow and stress free and relaxed. Ha Ha Ha Ha freaking ha.
2. My mom only ruined a tiny bit of Christmas. And I predicted the manner in which she'd do it. Somehow, at the age of 75, my mom is still not able to take care of herself in a responsible manner. Thus, a cold turns into pneumonia no matter how many people are telling her to rest, take meds, see a doctor and that she's actually really sick. So I ended up taking her to the ER Christmas Day. Delightful. But it wasn't Christmas Eve, the important one, so let's call that a victory. The fact that she wants to blame everyone else around her for her visit to the hospital? Typical. Doesn't even make me raise an eyebrow. Really. No really.
3. The triplets did, in fact, have 87 colds, flus and viruses over the course of November and December. No really. I slept maybe 2-4 hours a night for over a month there. And pregnant. I cleaned up a heck of a lot of barf. And poo. And the good news? I was too tired to blog about it. This one's good news for you people. Not me. But my good news? It's over. Until the next one.
4. I did survive no nannies for 10 straight days. I had a few fun experiences like taking the kids for walks around the neighborhood where they got to explore whatever they wanted. That was fun. I knew it could be done but it was exhausting and I almost didn't make the last 2 days. Because they were still not letting me sleep. And then with mom in the hospital I couldn't nap at naptime because a good daughter visits her ailing mother. So, come day 9? I almost killed a kid. Or a husband. Whichever makes you like me better.
So, see? All positive. I am spending this week recuperating, contemplating paperwork and bills, re-imagining my birth scenario, and being shocked at how much more uncomfortable one baby rolling around inside me is than 3. I have figured out that the triplets must have kicked each other a heck of a lot more than they kicked me because if this is how much they were kicking? I escaped quite unscathed. This little beastie rolls around, rearranging my organs and making me breathless with a little pressure to the diaphragm while dragging the other leg down the front of my abdomen in a positively alien manner.
And apparently he needs baked goods. Now.
I have been eating baked goods for approximately 48 hours now and there's no end in sight. Thank goodness I haven't gained weight in 2 weeks so I have a pound or two to spare. Oh, wait, no I don't because I started out 30 lbs over. Ah damn. Well, what's another cookie?
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Pre-worrying
Two years ago I was sitting in an OB's office listening to him tell me not to 'pre-worry' after I'd asked him a very basic question about who delivers babies for him when he's not on call. A very stupid thing to say to a woman newly pregnant with triplets who was instructed by most people to find this out from their OB before too long. True, I was only a couple of months pregnant and statistically speaking I had a higher chance of losing that pregnancy than most of his other clients but really? That's 'pre-worrying?' Wondering who covers for your OB in the surgical suite when you might have a really high chance of an emergency c-section?
My husband, naturally, seized on this phrase and repeated it to me incessantly until I threatened to cut off his entire nether regions with a dull knife. He knew I had a habit of worrying about things sometimes before it was truly necessary to worry and here was a man who had summed it up into a tidy phrase for him. It didn't occur to him that since I had now labeled the doctor a jackass he was winding up in the same category quite quickly.
So here I sit pre-worrying about the holidays. For the first time ever I have my mom at my house for the holidays. Throughout my childhood this woman made gift receiving unpleasant, thus ruining Christmas for me most years. She never gave a gift without expecting a certain type of reaction from you. She had some sort of pre-written script in her head, and if you didn't follow it to the letter her feelings were hurt. For example, once she gave me some earrings and I thanked her but did not put them in my ears. The next day she comes to me all sad and forlorn and says it really "hurt her feelings" that I didn't put the earrings in.
Really? Thanks isn't enough? Oh, thats right, it's never been.
In addition, the lady never asked what anyone wanted for Christmas, she just bought things all year long and stowed them in her closet, sometimes for more than a year, and then around Christmas she looked through everything she had and picked out some things for you. Naturally, this resulted in a sweatshirt I might have worn as a 13 year old being given to me at the age of 16 and somehow the hearts and kitties didn't quite work at that point. So, as you can imagine, Christmas, and any other gift giving occasion became a series of faking a positive reaction to a gift you didn't want and would never use and watching her reaction to see if you performed according to her expectations and then holding your breath for about 24 hours to see if you heard about her hurt feelings because you failed.
Really fun.
This year, after 3 blissful years with the in-laws, who not only ask what you want, but properly anticipate other things you might enjoy and then don't wear their egos on their sleeves waiting for your reaction to their gifts, I'm back in hell. She will be present for presents, she will be jealous and she will likely notice the disparity between the number of gifts my new family exchanges versus what she gets and gives. She's not even getting anything for the adults despite my hinting to her that she would be receiving from the adults. Truth is, even if she behaves herself, I will be on edge all holiday waiting for the explosion and trying to protect my in-laws from her brand of crazy. My holiday is destined not to be relaxing or as enjoyable as I've gotten used to in the last couple of years.
In addition, I've just found out I will have no nannies from Dec 24 through Jan 3. Thats 10 days people. I'm going to be 7 1/2 months pregnant. I have to go from having regular breaks where I can rest in the morning to having 10 days straight of taking care of triplets with only the 2 hour nap break in the afternoon. I don't know how this happened but I'm freaking out. I already cried about it. I'm already miserable. That's pre-worrying for sure, because why be miserable 2 weeks early? I will suck the marrow out of every second I have to rest over the next week and a half, but I am terrified of this 10 day thing. I feel like I'm going to go into labor or fall down dead or cry daily. I don't know how to not be upset about this.
It honestly feels like these two factors put together basically have destroyed my holiday. Yes, I'll enjoy watching my kids open presents, and watching my husband and in-laws opening theirs, but that's a pretty small window. Otherwise I'll be tired, stressed, and on the alert for my mom taking the crazy road the whole time. Not good people. How do I deal with this?
My husband, naturally, seized on this phrase and repeated it to me incessantly until I threatened to cut off his entire nether regions with a dull knife. He knew I had a habit of worrying about things sometimes before it was truly necessary to worry and here was a man who had summed it up into a tidy phrase for him. It didn't occur to him that since I had now labeled the doctor a jackass he was winding up in the same category quite quickly.
So here I sit pre-worrying about the holidays. For the first time ever I have my mom at my house for the holidays. Throughout my childhood this woman made gift receiving unpleasant, thus ruining Christmas for me most years. She never gave a gift without expecting a certain type of reaction from you. She had some sort of pre-written script in her head, and if you didn't follow it to the letter her feelings were hurt. For example, once she gave me some earrings and I thanked her but did not put them in my ears. The next day she comes to me all sad and forlorn and says it really "hurt her feelings" that I didn't put the earrings in.
Really? Thanks isn't enough? Oh, thats right, it's never been.
In addition, the lady never asked what anyone wanted for Christmas, she just bought things all year long and stowed them in her closet, sometimes for more than a year, and then around Christmas she looked through everything she had and picked out some things for you. Naturally, this resulted in a sweatshirt I might have worn as a 13 year old being given to me at the age of 16 and somehow the hearts and kitties didn't quite work at that point. So, as you can imagine, Christmas, and any other gift giving occasion became a series of faking a positive reaction to a gift you didn't want and would never use and watching her reaction to see if you performed according to her expectations and then holding your breath for about 24 hours to see if you heard about her hurt feelings because you failed.
Really fun.
This year, after 3 blissful years with the in-laws, who not only ask what you want, but properly anticipate other things you might enjoy and then don't wear their egos on their sleeves waiting for your reaction to their gifts, I'm back in hell. She will be present for presents, she will be jealous and she will likely notice the disparity between the number of gifts my new family exchanges versus what she gets and gives. She's not even getting anything for the adults despite my hinting to her that she would be receiving from the adults. Truth is, even if she behaves herself, I will be on edge all holiday waiting for the explosion and trying to protect my in-laws from her brand of crazy. My holiday is destined not to be relaxing or as enjoyable as I've gotten used to in the last couple of years.
In addition, I've just found out I will have no nannies from Dec 24 through Jan 3. Thats 10 days people. I'm going to be 7 1/2 months pregnant. I have to go from having regular breaks where I can rest in the morning to having 10 days straight of taking care of triplets with only the 2 hour nap break in the afternoon. I don't know how this happened but I'm freaking out. I already cried about it. I'm already miserable. That's pre-worrying for sure, because why be miserable 2 weeks early? I will suck the marrow out of every second I have to rest over the next week and a half, but I am terrified of this 10 day thing. I feel like I'm going to go into labor or fall down dead or cry daily. I don't know how to not be upset about this.
It honestly feels like these two factors put together basically have destroyed my holiday. Yes, I'll enjoy watching my kids open presents, and watching my husband and in-laws opening theirs, but that's a pretty small window. Otherwise I'll be tired, stressed, and on the alert for my mom taking the crazy road the whole time. Not good people. How do I deal with this?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Why do we even bother?
This exhausting exercise known as "getting their picture taken with Santa" is really questionable people. The kids don't enjoy it, certainly not at 22 months. In fact two of three were terrified of Santa. TERRIFIED people. Like he was an axe murderer waving his axe with imminent intentions of whacking them. So poor Santa had to give up his chair and sneak into the side of the frame where they didn't notice him as much as the dude behind the camera squeaking the Santa doll and all three of us caretakers had to get in the picture too. Sigh. Although, in the end we did narrow it down to just me and the kids with the killer in back.
Note the bribery of one santa teddy bear for B and one yellow cat for J from the Christmas shop out front. A was willing to follow the squeaky santa behind the camera though and put aside her holy terror for a minute.
I'm beat. They'd better love Santa next year or I'm over it.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Greener grass syndrome
How is it possible or fair that before you have your children you can spend every second yearning to be a parent, yearning to have a house full of kids, yearning so much that you miss whole days of childless freedom only to find yourself 2 years into having children yearning to be alone, yearning for the pre-children vacations you used to take, yearning to have the body you used to have and so on?
Oh yeah, that's right, it isn't fair.
I have a bad habit I got from my mom of tending to always look to the future to be better. I keep thinking if I could just get married, just have babies I'll be happier, if I could just have the babies turn into toddlers it'll get better, no, maybe when they can speak full sentences it'll be the best. I'm not the kind of person who lives in the present really well. Now of course the current present sucks more than usual because 7 months pregnant isn't fun for almost anyone, but it's not unusual that I'm craning my neck constantly to see around the next bend.
The real truth about children is you just have no stinking idea what you're getting into until you have them. Sure you see people with children all around and you see tantrums and struggles and know they haven't slept in weeks, but you think, it'll still feel fantastic if I can just have one. Especially once you get denied up front and have to struggle to have one (or three). Then there's the post infertility guilt that either you or others put on you because shouldn't you be happy all the time that you got lucky enough to have children when others can't?
Phooey on that. I can resent my children just as well as anyone else when they're acting like crabby little pains. Hell, maybe I should be more resentful because I paid for mine and still ended up without the upgrade to the 'no tantrum model.' I mean shouldn't I get a little extra tweak for the extra cash I had to put out up front?
But it's amazing how romantically I can see life before children now. As if it was all wine and roses before. Like DH and I sat around on island getaways and sipped cocktails while reveling in each other's company every minute of the day and night. Right now I'd give my right arm for an evening sipping cocktails in my own living room without a baby monitor chirping over my shoulder. And as if I didn't spend those evenings before romantically viewing how wonderful it was going to be if someone just gave me a damned baby.
You just can't win. And I didn't even want children until I hit about 31. Then it was like a ton of bricks and nearly impossible to resist. Now I can't wait until they all go to college and I can do things with my friends and husband on the spur of the moment without arranging childcare and 8 other things to do so.
I need to work on enjoying the present. Like this morning when all three of my kids were as cute as they can possibly be, for whatever reason, but just so cute you wanted to eat them all up and snuggle with them all morning. Sadly, that's not usually what they're up for but a moment like that? Has got to be enjoyed without any distractions. No worries about what I have to do, haven't done, whether I've slept or not, am getting the cold, or whatever. Just wallowing in three incredibly cute, loving kids. It won't last forever!
Oh yeah, that's right, it isn't fair.
I have a bad habit I got from my mom of tending to always look to the future to be better. I keep thinking if I could just get married, just have babies I'll be happier, if I could just have the babies turn into toddlers it'll get better, no, maybe when they can speak full sentences it'll be the best. I'm not the kind of person who lives in the present really well. Now of course the current present sucks more than usual because 7 months pregnant isn't fun for almost anyone, but it's not unusual that I'm craning my neck constantly to see around the next bend.
The real truth about children is you just have no stinking idea what you're getting into until you have them. Sure you see people with children all around and you see tantrums and struggles and know they haven't slept in weeks, but you think, it'll still feel fantastic if I can just have one. Especially once you get denied up front and have to struggle to have one (or three). Then there's the post infertility guilt that either you or others put on you because shouldn't you be happy all the time that you got lucky enough to have children when others can't?
Phooey on that. I can resent my children just as well as anyone else when they're acting like crabby little pains. Hell, maybe I should be more resentful because I paid for mine and still ended up without the upgrade to the 'no tantrum model.' I mean shouldn't I get a little extra tweak for the extra cash I had to put out up front?
But it's amazing how romantically I can see life before children now. As if it was all wine and roses before. Like DH and I sat around on island getaways and sipped cocktails while reveling in each other's company every minute of the day and night. Right now I'd give my right arm for an evening sipping cocktails in my own living room without a baby monitor chirping over my shoulder. And as if I didn't spend those evenings before romantically viewing how wonderful it was going to be if someone just gave me a damned baby.
You just can't win. And I didn't even want children until I hit about 31. Then it was like a ton of bricks and nearly impossible to resist. Now I can't wait until they all go to college and I can do things with my friends and husband on the spur of the moment without arranging childcare and 8 other things to do so.
I need to work on enjoying the present. Like this morning when all three of my kids were as cute as they can possibly be, for whatever reason, but just so cute you wanted to eat them all up and snuggle with them all morning. Sadly, that's not usually what they're up for but a moment like that? Has got to be enjoyed without any distractions. No worries about what I have to do, haven't done, whether I've slept or not, am getting the cold, or whatever. Just wallowing in three incredibly cute, loving kids. It won't last forever!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
A Rose by any other name...
Dear Roseola,
Wow, Roseola, you are a special virus aren't you? Only attacking young children, scaring the crap out of their mothers, and pretty much benign but a pain in the ass. What a great way to be. Lets see how you like to entertain us, shall we?
First, we wake at 2 am and find a burning ember of a child in bed. Now, admittedly, we have been extra lucky in that we have maybe once before had a child with a high fever in this house. Truly remarkable considering we raised three simultaneously and most infants have random fevers now and then. But, unfortunately, because of my lack of experience with random night fevers, we had to call the nurse hotline to find out what to do when your kid is seemingly normal in every way other than the fact that he is being welded to your body where his iron hot skin touches yours.
So then the next day proceeds and we are lulled into a sense of security because no other symptoms appear. True, after nap we have three feverish children instead of one, but otherwise, they seem ok. After talking to the doctor, who mentions stomach bugs as a possibility (thanks doc!), I do get a little panicky thinking about three barfing toddlers all night long but you're too smart to go the blunt route. We actually get a pretty good night's sleep, fevers and all. So just when we thought it was all over, reality hits.
We have crabby, cranky, irritable children on hunger strike with random rashes sprouting all over their bodies.
And the 3rd night? No sleep at all. Somehow the 'irritability' mentioned on all website searches of symptoms of Roseola doesn't quite adequately describe the night we just survived. Every 15 minutes someone screaming or yelling in some sort of private agony that can not be translated into a solvable symptom? Oh yeah. That's lovely. Not letting pregnant mommy sleep until 3am and then waking her again at 6 with sobbing and whining and moaning and whimpering? Oh that is just touching.
So glad you cared to send the very best.
And this sneaky business of sending symptoms one at a time and far enough apart to confuse and distract? Why you should be in the CIA or something. The frying pan in the face that hits you right when you think you're through the last of it was a brilliant finale.
Hating you Roseola. Thank god for you and me that it's a once in a childhood thing, because if I ever see you again? (And that means the fourth kid better get a mild-ass case of it mister) I will be a lot less tolerant of you. Whatever that means.
Stupid virus.
Yours in exhaustion,
Mommy
Wow, Roseola, you are a special virus aren't you? Only attacking young children, scaring the crap out of their mothers, and pretty much benign but a pain in the ass. What a great way to be. Lets see how you like to entertain us, shall we?
First, we wake at 2 am and find a burning ember of a child in bed. Now, admittedly, we have been extra lucky in that we have maybe once before had a child with a high fever in this house. Truly remarkable considering we raised three simultaneously and most infants have random fevers now and then. But, unfortunately, because of my lack of experience with random night fevers, we had to call the nurse hotline to find out what to do when your kid is seemingly normal in every way other than the fact that he is being welded to your body where his iron hot skin touches yours.
So then the next day proceeds and we are lulled into a sense of security because no other symptoms appear. True, after nap we have three feverish children instead of one, but otherwise, they seem ok. After talking to the doctor, who mentions stomach bugs as a possibility (thanks doc!), I do get a little panicky thinking about three barfing toddlers all night long but you're too smart to go the blunt route. We actually get a pretty good night's sleep, fevers and all. So just when we thought it was all over, reality hits.
We have crabby, cranky, irritable children on hunger strike with random rashes sprouting all over their bodies.
And the 3rd night? No sleep at all. Somehow the 'irritability' mentioned on all website searches of symptoms of Roseola doesn't quite adequately describe the night we just survived. Every 15 minutes someone screaming or yelling in some sort of private agony that can not be translated into a solvable symptom? Oh yeah. That's lovely. Not letting pregnant mommy sleep until 3am and then waking her again at 6 with sobbing and whining and moaning and whimpering? Oh that is just touching.
So glad you cared to send the very best.
And this sneaky business of sending symptoms one at a time and far enough apart to confuse and distract? Why you should be in the CIA or something. The frying pan in the face that hits you right when you think you're through the last of it was a brilliant finale.
Hating you Roseola. Thank god for you and me that it's a once in a childhood thing, because if I ever see you again? (And that means the fourth kid better get a mild-ass case of it mister) I will be a lot less tolerant of you. Whatever that means.
Stupid virus.
Yours in exhaustion,
Mommy
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Problem Solved?
Well the doctor called me today and said I'm anemic. Half of me thinks this is the solution to all of my problems, as if an iron pill a day will make me not exhausted when I'm pregnant, caring for triplet toddlers, dealing with my mom's crap and moving through the anniversary of my dad's death from cancer last year.
Yep, a pill ought to do it!
I do truly hope that taking an iron pill will give me a bit more energy, and mom's move is over after today, in theory (not to tempt the gods to make it last a third day), and I'm not one to pick a time of year to get depressed about something bad that happened, so perhaps I will be feeling better soon, physically and mentally. But I also know I'm depressed. Life feels very hard right now because every day is the same thing. Get up, care for the kids, slog through whatever mom throws at me, count the minutes to kid bedtime and try to cram in a couple of hours of things I like to do before I go to bed for what may or may not be a restful night, depending on the kids' and my pregnant body's cooperation.
I think I need a challenge. I feel like if I were struggling more, say, had no mornings a week with a nanny, had a disabled child, or something that made it truly impossible to make it through the day, I'd feel happier. Crazy no? But I'd be challenged. There was nothing I liked better about my previous jobs than days where I had to be so efficient that people's head spun as I went by. That's why I loved animal rehab with its 400 baby birds needing feeding while the phone rang and people dropped off new injured animals and cages needed cleaning. I loved retail during the Christmas season because there was always too much to do. I loved even just being an administrative person at a medical office because there was more to do in the day than could be accomplished.
At each of these jobs I left at the end of the day knowing I was probably the best employee because I don't lose my head in a crisis, I love the challenge of getting too much done in too little time, and I still did it well with a smile on my face.
Technically I do have too much to do in too little time, but some of it is easy to ignore. Say taking the garbage out or sweeping the floor. Just not really important when compared to keeping animals alive. How about folding laundry or de-cluttering my house? It can wait, right?
So how to feel motivated and challenged when caring for children (and mom) 24/7? I should be crafting xmas presents or something, but it works better when there's an urgency to what I'm doing. Christmas presents can wait too. I know so many women who do so much during nap time it puts me to shame.
And lethargy breeds lethargy. I promise. Half of my tiredness is boredom. I need a kick in the pants. I need a deadline. I need a boss breathing down my neck. I am an achiever of goals, not a creator of goals to achieve. I need a boss. Or a wife. I'll take either. Any takers?
Yep, a pill ought to do it!
I do truly hope that taking an iron pill will give me a bit more energy, and mom's move is over after today, in theory (not to tempt the gods to make it last a third day), and I'm not one to pick a time of year to get depressed about something bad that happened, so perhaps I will be feeling better soon, physically and mentally. But I also know I'm depressed. Life feels very hard right now because every day is the same thing. Get up, care for the kids, slog through whatever mom throws at me, count the minutes to kid bedtime and try to cram in a couple of hours of things I like to do before I go to bed for what may or may not be a restful night, depending on the kids' and my pregnant body's cooperation.
I think I need a challenge. I feel like if I were struggling more, say, had no mornings a week with a nanny, had a disabled child, or something that made it truly impossible to make it through the day, I'd feel happier. Crazy no? But I'd be challenged. There was nothing I liked better about my previous jobs than days where I had to be so efficient that people's head spun as I went by. That's why I loved animal rehab with its 400 baby birds needing feeding while the phone rang and people dropped off new injured animals and cages needed cleaning. I loved retail during the Christmas season because there was always too much to do. I loved even just being an administrative person at a medical office because there was more to do in the day than could be accomplished.
At each of these jobs I left at the end of the day knowing I was probably the best employee because I don't lose my head in a crisis, I love the challenge of getting too much done in too little time, and I still did it well with a smile on my face.
Technically I do have too much to do in too little time, but some of it is easy to ignore. Say taking the garbage out or sweeping the floor. Just not really important when compared to keeping animals alive. How about folding laundry or de-cluttering my house? It can wait, right?
So how to feel motivated and challenged when caring for children (and mom) 24/7? I should be crafting xmas presents or something, but it works better when there's an urgency to what I'm doing. Christmas presents can wait too. I know so many women who do so much during nap time it puts me to shame.
And lethargy breeds lethargy. I promise. Half of my tiredness is boredom. I need a kick in the pants. I need a deadline. I need a boss breathing down my neck. I am an achiever of goals, not a creator of goals to achieve. I need a boss. Or a wife. I'll take either. Any takers?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Not old hat to this girl
It's funny because most people would assume that since I've been through a triplet pregnancy, this singleton pregnancy would be all 'old hat' to me. Uh no people. I might as well be pregnant for the first time.
Because, you see, it's all different. First off, I had a great group of triplet moms I communed with at least three times a day on baby center dot com and so when I had some strange sensation I ran right over there and heard from 3 other people that they felt that once or yesterday too. This was fantastic. I dream that we will all get together in Vegas some year when the triplets are old enough to be abandoned by mommy as well as we are all done paying for 100 diapers a day. They are like my long lost sisters, these ladies, and we still support each other through the trials and tribulations of triplet toddlers that NO ONE else could possibly understand.
Also, my life was a wee tad different back when I was pregnant the first time. Strange twinge? I lay down. Abnormal pressure feeling in uterus? Lay down. Not to mention that I was being seen by a doctor of some sort at the very least every other week and that cervix of mine never had so many viewings in all its previous years.
When you're pregnant with one kid no one wants to look at your cervix until a head is sticking through. And laying down? Not an option with triplet toddlers.
So here I sit, with no doctors wanting to check my cervix and no pictures of healthy babies every other week via ultrasound and decidedly different sensations. You might think I'd be all casual this time around but I can guarantee you that when I was pregnant with triplets it NEVER felt like one of them was dangling their little foot down outside of my cervix and kicking me right in the coochie.
Oh yes. Almost like I'm being kicked from the outside, thats how low this kid is hanging out.
The poor triplets probably didn't have room to dangle, much less aim their little limbs all crammed into that tiny space. This kid is drifting about in a pre-stretched uterus and what a low slung hammock it seems to be this time. The dr said today that it very well could be that I'm funneling and the kid's foot is reaching pretty far down. I have a mind to retaliate a bit (DH is now thinking how easily he could help with that.)
So I spend a lot of time analyzing the various pressures and twinges and aches and agues that I am suffering because it all feels different. I'm less scared this time around but I don't feel like I know enough to be all worry free. And it is definitely strange to not have doctors wanting to poke and prod me regularly throughout this process. I never realized how reassuring it was to see those kids waving and jumping around on ultrasound all the time. This kid is just going to have to hang in there and give me some obvious signs if something goes wrong.
But I do not like feeling like a novice at a game like this. I suppose this is what children are for though, because the likelihood is that when this one comes out I will still be a novice. The chance that anything I've learned from raising the first three will pay off with the fourth? Not high. That would be too easy. I suspect a whole new game will be afoot then too. Got to keep momma one step behind don't they?
Because, you see, it's all different. First off, I had a great group of triplet moms I communed with at least three times a day on baby center dot com and so when I had some strange sensation I ran right over there and heard from 3 other people that they felt that once or yesterday too. This was fantastic. I dream that we will all get together in Vegas some year when the triplets are old enough to be abandoned by mommy as well as we are all done paying for 100 diapers a day. They are like my long lost sisters, these ladies, and we still support each other through the trials and tribulations of triplet toddlers that NO ONE else could possibly understand.
Also, my life was a wee tad different back when I was pregnant the first time. Strange twinge? I lay down. Abnormal pressure feeling in uterus? Lay down. Not to mention that I was being seen by a doctor of some sort at the very least every other week and that cervix of mine never had so many viewings in all its previous years.
When you're pregnant with one kid no one wants to look at your cervix until a head is sticking through. And laying down? Not an option with triplet toddlers.
So here I sit, with no doctors wanting to check my cervix and no pictures of healthy babies every other week via ultrasound and decidedly different sensations. You might think I'd be all casual this time around but I can guarantee you that when I was pregnant with triplets it NEVER felt like one of them was dangling their little foot down outside of my cervix and kicking me right in the coochie.
Oh yes. Almost like I'm being kicked from the outside, thats how low this kid is hanging out.
The poor triplets probably didn't have room to dangle, much less aim their little limbs all crammed into that tiny space. This kid is drifting about in a pre-stretched uterus and what a low slung hammock it seems to be this time. The dr said today that it very well could be that I'm funneling and the kid's foot is reaching pretty far down. I have a mind to retaliate a bit (DH is now thinking how easily he could help with that.)
So I spend a lot of time analyzing the various pressures and twinges and aches and agues that I am suffering because it all feels different. I'm less scared this time around but I don't feel like I know enough to be all worry free. And it is definitely strange to not have doctors wanting to poke and prod me regularly throughout this process. I never realized how reassuring it was to see those kids waving and jumping around on ultrasound all the time. This kid is just going to have to hang in there and give me some obvious signs if something goes wrong.
But I do not like feeling like a novice at a game like this. I suppose this is what children are for though, because the likelihood is that when this one comes out I will still be a novice. The chance that anything I've learned from raising the first three will pay off with the fourth? Not high. That would be too easy. I suspect a whole new game will be afoot then too. Got to keep momma one step behind don't they?
Friday, November 6, 2009
Fear not
Fear is hard to overcome. When your fear is only 2 years old it's impossible.
When I gave birth almost 2 years ago (although giving birth is altogether too benign a way to describe the horrors of my c-section with the triplets) I suffered through some awful complications. I could go on about the surgery itself, the recovery from the surgery, the blood transfusions and so on, but the worst part started before that. The two nights before I had my children I couldn't breathe.
I lay in bed that Sunday night in February coaching myself through the feeling of suffocation. You'd think I'd have awakened my husband, called a doctor, or something, but I guess I thought it was just those crazy kids smothering me with their fat little bodies all pressed up against my lungs and diaphragm. It's pretty normal to be short of breath when you're pregnant.
But it wasn't that. It apparently was that my blood pressure was sky high. I was heading into pre-eclampsia, that delightful unhealthy space where your body is giving up the battle to support other life forms within you. And mine was giving up quick. Apparently high blood pressure makes it hard to breathe but the doctors were afraid my lungs were filling up with fluid as the heart was giving out. Pulmonary edema you know. Not a good problem to have. So to the hospital I headed. They tried to stabilize me and I had what the doctors would probably call a 'good night' but for me it was a living hell.
I still couldn't breathe. I also suffered from extreme hot and cold, had to sleep with three belts with cold metal monitoring devices strapped to them wrapped around my body. It was terrible.
I'd like to say I was strong and determined to make it to 36 weeks, full term for triplets, but 2 nights of not breathing crippled me mentally. I was just at 32 weeks and like hell I was suffocating for 4 more. I gave up. I told the doctor my resolve was gone and to get those damned kids out of me. We had already gotten steroid shots, so the babies were in great shape to come out, albeit early. There was nothing left to do but stop mom from dying slowly mentally and physically.
The problem was that the high blood pressure takes weeks to get down. Sure, they put me on drugs after the birth and monitored me closely, but I was still having incredibly high numbers. 150s over 100s. And I could not sleep in any position except sitting up. A week later, when I went home I had to sleep in the recliner downstairs sitting up. And still I suffocated. When all the lights were out and it got too dark? Suffocation.
I had to have DH create a soundtrack of soothing music to play on loop all night so that when I was awake I had something to hold onto reality. For a week I slept in the living room with a soundtrack. (The babies didn't come home for weeks after me so no problems there.) I finally made it up to my own bed but had to sleep with a hundred pillows like I had while pregnant. Two weeks into recovery I visited my OB. I explained that I couldn't lay down because I couldn't breathe and he urged me to try while telling my mother in law it was all in my head. Nice.
I'll tell you what, my head sure was convincing.
Somehow I got through this and eventually lay down again and life went on, but when I lay down to take a nap today? Couldn't breathe. Panic set in. Am I already succumbing to pre-eclampsia? Am I going to go through this all again? It doesn't take much to remember the incredible fear and feelings that went along with feeling like I was suffocating. My attempts to rationalize what happened today don't help. I have some serious fear to overcome in the next 2 months before I give birth. Because this is only going to get worse, and while I may not get that sick, I had better get through whatever is handed to me and I had better not get any more fears along the way!
When I gave birth almost 2 years ago (although giving birth is altogether too benign a way to describe the horrors of my c-section with the triplets) I suffered through some awful complications. I could go on about the surgery itself, the recovery from the surgery, the blood transfusions and so on, but the worst part started before that. The two nights before I had my children I couldn't breathe.
I lay in bed that Sunday night in February coaching myself through the feeling of suffocation. You'd think I'd have awakened my husband, called a doctor, or something, but I guess I thought it was just those crazy kids smothering me with their fat little bodies all pressed up against my lungs and diaphragm. It's pretty normal to be short of breath when you're pregnant.
But it wasn't that. It apparently was that my blood pressure was sky high. I was heading into pre-eclampsia, that delightful unhealthy space where your body is giving up the battle to support other life forms within you. And mine was giving up quick. Apparently high blood pressure makes it hard to breathe but the doctors were afraid my lungs were filling up with fluid as the heart was giving out. Pulmonary edema you know. Not a good problem to have. So to the hospital I headed. They tried to stabilize me and I had what the doctors would probably call a 'good night' but for me it was a living hell.
I still couldn't breathe. I also suffered from extreme hot and cold, had to sleep with three belts with cold metal monitoring devices strapped to them wrapped around my body. It was terrible.
I'd like to say I was strong and determined to make it to 36 weeks, full term for triplets, but 2 nights of not breathing crippled me mentally. I was just at 32 weeks and like hell I was suffocating for 4 more. I gave up. I told the doctor my resolve was gone and to get those damned kids out of me. We had already gotten steroid shots, so the babies were in great shape to come out, albeit early. There was nothing left to do but stop mom from dying slowly mentally and physically.
The problem was that the high blood pressure takes weeks to get down. Sure, they put me on drugs after the birth and monitored me closely, but I was still having incredibly high numbers. 150s over 100s. And I could not sleep in any position except sitting up. A week later, when I went home I had to sleep in the recliner downstairs sitting up. And still I suffocated. When all the lights were out and it got too dark? Suffocation.
I had to have DH create a soundtrack of soothing music to play on loop all night so that when I was awake I had something to hold onto reality. For a week I slept in the living room with a soundtrack. (The babies didn't come home for weeks after me so no problems there.) I finally made it up to my own bed but had to sleep with a hundred pillows like I had while pregnant. Two weeks into recovery I visited my OB. I explained that I couldn't lay down because I couldn't breathe and he urged me to try while telling my mother in law it was all in my head. Nice.
I'll tell you what, my head sure was convincing.
Somehow I got through this and eventually lay down again and life went on, but when I lay down to take a nap today? Couldn't breathe. Panic set in. Am I already succumbing to pre-eclampsia? Am I going to go through this all again? It doesn't take much to remember the incredible fear and feelings that went along with feeling like I was suffocating. My attempts to rationalize what happened today don't help. I have some serious fear to overcome in the next 2 months before I give birth. Because this is only going to get worse, and while I may not get that sick, I had better get through whatever is handed to me and I had better not get any more fears along the way!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
A theory of relativity
It's all relative isn't it? Parenting I mean. From day to day, how you react to x, y or z is all relative.
Last night, while A was crying in her 'night before I get really sick' way I had no sympathy. I got up once, made sure she wasn't currently sick, wet or missing a stuffed animal or blanket and never again. Two weeks ago? I got up 4 or 5 times. I felt sorry for her. I knew she probably had a sore throat. She never lets me give her meds in the middle of the night though, so what can I do for a sore throat? Is it better to lay in bed listening to her cry, knowing she would stop if I went in every time, but then would be back on in an hour or so?
Well last night it was. Which mom is right? The sympathetic one? Or the sleepy one?
Today, perhaps I have no patience, because I am tired. Disputes get settled with both kids getting yelled at. Yesterday, perhaps, I was better able to distinguish between aggressor and victim. Did it make a difference? Not really. They fought again 5 minutes later. Did the victim feel vindicated or understood? I doubt it at 21 months.
But perhaps this is the balance. Some days I'm more or too sympathetic. Some days I'm a beeyotch. If it's 50/50, maybe this is balance? Because no human can be balanced every day. And too much sympathy is bad too, perhaps not as bad as too little?
It's all relative. And lately I have been relatively unhappy, so they have probably suffered in my parenting that way. Now I guess I have to manufacture a couple of weeks of happy parenting and it should all even out. Any hints on how to do that other than offing some annoying people in my life?
Last night, while A was crying in her 'night before I get really sick' way I had no sympathy. I got up once, made sure she wasn't currently sick, wet or missing a stuffed animal or blanket and never again. Two weeks ago? I got up 4 or 5 times. I felt sorry for her. I knew she probably had a sore throat. She never lets me give her meds in the middle of the night though, so what can I do for a sore throat? Is it better to lay in bed listening to her cry, knowing she would stop if I went in every time, but then would be back on in an hour or so?
Well last night it was. Which mom is right? The sympathetic one? Or the sleepy one?
Today, perhaps I have no patience, because I am tired. Disputes get settled with both kids getting yelled at. Yesterday, perhaps, I was better able to distinguish between aggressor and victim. Did it make a difference? Not really. They fought again 5 minutes later. Did the victim feel vindicated or understood? I doubt it at 21 months.
But perhaps this is the balance. Some days I'm more or too sympathetic. Some days I'm a beeyotch. If it's 50/50, maybe this is balance? Because no human can be balanced every day. And too much sympathy is bad too, perhaps not as bad as too little?
It's all relative. And lately I have been relatively unhappy, so they have probably suffered in my parenting that way. Now I guess I have to manufacture a couple of weeks of happy parenting and it should all even out. Any hints on how to do that other than offing some annoying people in my life?
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Happy Halloween
J, A, B
Well I'm glad we did. Our neighborhood was in great form. We finally have people participating in the holidays and the street was full of friends and friendly faces. The kids did great and I had fun. And I'm the most important one, right? I guess I had a happy Halloween after all.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
This is how they kill you
Inch by inch, night by night, they kill you.
First, B gets sick and spends an hour screaming even with Motrin in his system and everything you can think of to do does nothing. Three days later as your throat is progressively getting more scratchy yourself A has her night before her first day of being sick. I don't know why her night before is worse than her nights during, but there it is. Every hour or two she wakes up moaning and crying like she's lost her puppy. The first few times you check on her, she's satisfied with a pat and a tuck in. Perhaps you give her some Motrin because it's pretty predictable that her throat hurts like yours does. By 3 am you give up and lay in bed listening to your daughter moan and sob and whimper and cry. Every hour.
Then you have to wake up and make it through a day full of appointments and errands and at nap time you are too congested and sore throated to nap yourself. But you make it through that day.
Then it's J's turn that night. By mid afternoon he's pulling on his already previously infected ear that should be mostly healed by now. The doctor tells you it's likely he got a second infection due to the cold and needs to come in tomorrow because it's going to be resistant to the current course of antibiotics. So you head to bed and starting at 11, he's up every hour hollering and crying. Oh yes, they all cry differently. Different heartstrings to pull at you know. Different types of misery.
Every hour, maybe hour and a half he's up yelling and whimpering. You know that trying to give him Motrin at night is like trying to medicate a greased weasel so you whip out the ear numbing drops the dr gave you last week and squeeze some in to both ears. For an hour and half you think you've solved the problem. Until he's crying again. At the 2 hour mark you can give him more drops. Doesn't work.
At 6 am you know you're dead. Today you have a dentist appointment, music class, no afternoon help, crazy mom coming over to visit and you have to find a way to get J to the doctor to check his ear and then likely get to the pharmacy to get meds for him too.
This is how they kill you. Because you haven't yet recovered from the three colds they had a week and a half ago. And before that there was only a day between the cold they had before that one. And you can only pray they don't catch a 4th cold right after this one because you might just hunt yourself down something so bad for pregnant women to catch that you end up in the hospital for a few days of someone taking care of you. Anyone got some swine flu?
First, B gets sick and spends an hour screaming even with Motrin in his system and everything you can think of to do does nothing. Three days later as your throat is progressively getting more scratchy yourself A has her night before her first day of being sick. I don't know why her night before is worse than her nights during, but there it is. Every hour or two she wakes up moaning and crying like she's lost her puppy. The first few times you check on her, she's satisfied with a pat and a tuck in. Perhaps you give her some Motrin because it's pretty predictable that her throat hurts like yours does. By 3 am you give up and lay in bed listening to your daughter moan and sob and whimper and cry. Every hour.
Then you have to wake up and make it through a day full of appointments and errands and at nap time you are too congested and sore throated to nap yourself. But you make it through that day.
Then it's J's turn that night. By mid afternoon he's pulling on his already previously infected ear that should be mostly healed by now. The doctor tells you it's likely he got a second infection due to the cold and needs to come in tomorrow because it's going to be resistant to the current course of antibiotics. So you head to bed and starting at 11, he's up every hour hollering and crying. Oh yes, they all cry differently. Different heartstrings to pull at you know. Different types of misery.
Every hour, maybe hour and a half he's up yelling and whimpering. You know that trying to give him Motrin at night is like trying to medicate a greased weasel so you whip out the ear numbing drops the dr gave you last week and squeeze some in to both ears. For an hour and half you think you've solved the problem. Until he's crying again. At the 2 hour mark you can give him more drops. Doesn't work.
At 6 am you know you're dead. Today you have a dentist appointment, music class, no afternoon help, crazy mom coming over to visit and you have to find a way to get J to the doctor to check his ear and then likely get to the pharmacy to get meds for him too.
This is how they kill you. Because you haven't yet recovered from the three colds they had a week and a half ago. And before that there was only a day between the cold they had before that one. And you can only pray they don't catch a 4th cold right after this one because you might just hunt yourself down something so bad for pregnant women to catch that you end up in the hospital for a few days of someone taking care of you. Anyone got some swine flu?
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