Last week we were searching through countless VHS tapes looking for that obscure copy of 101 Dalmations when I came across a video labeled, “home movies, zoo, 1st birthday, christmas.” I decided to pop it in, just for fun, not expecting to see anything unusual or exciting. Chelsea being Chelsea, Ryan being Ryan, Olivia and Rebekah being Olivia and Rebekah. The kids went along with it too I think, under the guise that all of our home movies were produced by Walt Disney and this too would be a “magical adventure.” Amazing enough, however, there was a transformation. It started out simple enough, mommy still looked the same despite a dozen failed diet attempts, and daddy was still playing with all the camcorder features like a kid on Christmas day. We hadn’t changed much in the last two years. Rebekah (one of my two year old twins) though, while watching our memories, became very sad. At first it was discreet, just a little lip quiver and sad puppy eyes. By the time we got to the merry-go-round at the zoo, however, she had sprinted into deep heavy sobs, and by the time Christmas came around, she was distraught…..gasping between cries. Of course we were all in awe at what started this dramatic reaction, and turned off the t.v. when she sounded so upset, but that was the strange part. When we turned off the t.v., she cried harder….throwing herself onto the floor. It was like a car wreck she didn’t want to helplessly watch, but couldn’t forgive herself for turning away from. And Rebekah isn’t the emotional one, Olivia (her twin sister) is the sensitive hopeless romantic that transforms into a ball of snot and tears when mommy holds a dolly too closely. Of course shortly after the episode was over there were dishes to wash and laundry to do. I talked to my mom about it for a second later that night and we decided tossed around theories. Maybe the moment that she was watching WAS scary, and she just didn’t recognize it when she was in the moment. Maybe later when she was watching it she realized how scared she should have been. Or, maybe, she didn’t recognize herself and was jealous of all the attention mommy and daddy were giving that strange baby. I guess, because of all of the drama, I had watched the movie and made observations, but didn’t put much thought into what I had seen. I put the whole thing in my “that’s strange” shelf on the right side of my brain and continued on without giving it much thought.
Today, however, I awoke from my nap and all of a sudden that shelf in my brain had collapsed. I was dreaming about going to a barbeque we have planned this weekend. I was talking to my husband’s best friend’s wife, she’s expecting this month, and we were talking in my dream about the babies and how much they’ve grown since she had seen them last. I guess that conversation, in connection with Rebekah’s outburst the other day, and my observations that I never paid attention to—everything all came together.
I woke up startled, having to come to the computer and write down every thought in my revelation. In my epiphany. In the home movie the twins were just babies. There were snippets of them learning to walk, and short clips of them talking gibberish here and there. Of course they are sooo much different now. Olivia looked like a little boy with her short hair, and now her cascading curly ponytails almost reach her shoulders. And Rebekah, she didn’t have any hair at all in that video, and now I spend five minutes every morning putting it into spunky little ponytails that crown the top of her head. I remember seeing in the video how they were trying to walk to their daddy, with his legs outstretched they would both take one or two steps and then dive right into his belly, certain that he could catch them. And he laughed and giggled, without expecting any kind of different outcome. Now they run back and forth in races, each wanting to beat the other. And the jump. And skip. And hop. And dance.
Perhaps that is why Rebekah was so upset when she watched that movie, because they ARE different children. The children that I fix milk and apple juice for now aren’t the same ones that I nursed in the middle of the night when they were first home from the hospital. Olivia’s breath doesn’t always smell like corn, and their skin, although perfect, doesn’t always feel soft and squishy as they’ve grown into their lean toddler bodies, always on the move.
In my mind, as I was dreaming, I instantly realized that my babies were gone. And I became emotionally devastated. How could two people that I loved and adored SOOO much, people that I revolved my life around, disappear, and why didn’t I notice? When did it happen? Was it that day last year that I went to bed early when that migrane hit? Did it happen overnight on their 2nd birthday? Did they go to sleep babies and wake up toddlers? Emotionally it was like the death of my closest best friend, that I had conveniently forgotten about until I walked into the funeral parlor. I had such a sense of sorrow, it penetrated my heart, making me cry uncontrollably, for seemingly no good reason. All of a sudden Rebekah’s unexplainable outburst made sense. They aren’t gone physically for crying out loud, they are 300 feet away in their cribs finishing their naps. They won’t be out of their diapers or in big girl bed’s for a few months now. The revelation though, that they are gone reverberates in my mind, causing me to go on an insane search to “recreate” them. I’m afraid I will forget them, those babies that I didn’t notice disappear. That I won’t remember how Olivia used to growl in her deep voice, and Bekah used to crawl like a teeter totter using her fat little tummy as an axis. I am so scared that all of those memories and thoughts are going to be replaced with what they said and did today. Like it’s some kind of sophisticated military experiment to brainwash new mothers.
I don’t understand why I’ve become so emotionally attached to these children. My son Ryan, who will be five next month, asked me the other day when he would lose his teeth? Without even thinking I replied, “Not for a long time buddy….” And then I thought about it, that’s not true. He will be losing his teeth soon, not later. I guess by not starting him in kindergarten this year I was delaying in my mind that he was becoming a “big boy” but unfortunately he will age irregardless of the state’s mandatory cut off date. I guess he saw my sadness because he replied, “It’s ok mommy, my old teeth have seeds, so when I lose them they will plant the seeds and new teeth will grow.” Unfortunately that response only made my heart sadder. By the time he starts losing his teeth he will know the real reason, he won’t imagine creative explanations, and he won’t need me as much anymore.
I’ve never been the kind of mother that fears change or growth. I could never relate to those parents that cried on their kid’s first day of school, or became sad when they played in their first ballgame. I was always excited when they mastered new skills or said new things, it made me proud. I always smile and make a big deal of their accomplishments. It makes me happy when they learn new words and can tell me the things that are going through their little brains. Now though, because of this dream, this epiphany, my life will be forever changed. While I was being happy and oblivious to the world, they were changing, being replaced. For the rest of their childhood when they go to sleep I will make a conscious effort to grieve the loss of my babies and remember all of the little memories that my brain will hold…and in the morning when I wake up I will make an unconscious effort to fall in love with the new Chelsea, Olivia, Rebekah, and Ryan all over again, unsuspectingly replacing those little memories.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
my new job
Last Monday (May 22nd) I started a new job. It’s 80% the same job really, but I was promoted to the lead operator instead of just an operator. It’s year round, so I don’t get the summers off. But I got a $2/hr raise and everyone/thing is getting more expensive. I knew eventually the time would come that I would have to work year round, but I was hoping to put it off longer, until the twins started school. Honestly though, there never would have been a “good” time. I started searching for this job when Chelsea was five, the summer before she started kindergarten. I realized that her “childhood” was over in a sense and the only time I had spent with her were those frustrating, exhausting hours before 6 pm and 9 pm, and that hadn’t been enough. I had paid off all of my bills and at the time, financially, I was in a good position, so I looked for more flexibility….hence, my job. I worked September til April I got the summer off to draw unemployment and play with Chelsea. Of course within 30 days my situation had changed, I had broken up with my three year boyfriend, and moved back in with my parents. And, shortly after that I became pregnant with Ryan. But he was due in the summer, when I was laid off, so it continued to be an arrangement that worked. I loved having my summers off to make up for some of the time I was at work and denied them during the year. I was truly lucky to have had that opportunity for all of the years that I did. That being said, everyone is getting more expensive. Last year I couldn’t even buy a present for Chelsea’s 9th birthday, because it fell in the month of August when we are out of unemployment and seriously struggling until September when I go back to work and my checks start coming in. I was raised in a family when we were constantly denied because we didn’t “have the money” and that wasn’t a legacy I wanted to continue. I didn’t want them to miss opportunities because we couldn’t afford it.
What’s been the most surprising is Erik’s reaction. He hasn’t really said much, just little conversations here and there, but I think he has a lot of mixed emotions about it. He’s always said that going to work full-time was my choice, and he didn’t mind struggling in the summer because kids “need their mommies.” I always thought that was sweet, that he was supportive. He’s never been controlling, and he’s never “put me down.” We always have had separate checking accounts and I was in complete control of my finances and my life. I always felt as though we were equals, somewhat. I mean I always instinctively took control of the house, because with work and coaching he didn’t have much time to devote to it. And he always paid the bills because he worked year round and his finances were more stable. But I think our relationship isn’t always the partnership that I believe it is. I think he liked it when I was home all summer because he could leave with the house a mess and feel no responsibility towards it….it was “my job.” And he’s hesitant about my new job because now our roles might change. I doubt it would inspire him to do a load of laundry, but he feels guilty now. Almost like he’s jealous, kind of, that we are equals. Last week I was looking through the bills and I saw quite a few that were late….not substantially, but I didn’t see the need in paying late fees when I once again will be getting a paycheck. I told him to let me know what he couldn’t pay with this check and he replied, “Oh, you just pay daycare, groceries, and gas….I’ll take care of the rest.” It kind of hurt my feelings. I mean here I am bringing in paychecks and finally in the position that I could contribute to the family financially, instead of always feeling like a burden, and instead of welcoming that he’s not acknowledging it. For years we have been praying, if Erik gets that $200/month raise then our world would change….we could get a new car, get new furniture, etc, etc, etc…. Now my income has changed substantially and he’s not really excited about it. After overtime we will probably bring in the same amount. He said it won’t really “change” his life that much, and that he liked knowing that the kids were at home with me and they were safe. I think he liked knowing that he was taking care of us….that we depended on him….that we needed him. I think that he feels as though he has somewhat failed, because I have taken on more financial responsibility, and that makes me sad. I don’t think he’s failed at all. We have all of our needs met because of him. That being said, I am glad that I am working. He gets so stressed and depressed and frustrated, as do I, at our inability to make ends meet. I was hoping that I could help him. That we could work together. That I could be an asset instead of an expense. But he’s not open to that yet, I don’t think his ego will allow it. The only thing that I can do, I guess, is pay bills that come in before he sees them (which won’t be really hard because he doesn’t pay close attention to the mail.) He isn’t one of those people that knows the power bill will be due the 7th of each month, unless he sees it he doesn’t pay it. And, I can build up a savings account. And pay for little things…..dates, concerts, camps. Extra things that will help our family but aren’t in our budget.
What’s been the most surprising is Erik’s reaction. He hasn’t really said much, just little conversations here and there, but I think he has a lot of mixed emotions about it. He’s always said that going to work full-time was my choice, and he didn’t mind struggling in the summer because kids “need their mommies.” I always thought that was sweet, that he was supportive. He’s never been controlling, and he’s never “put me down.” We always have had separate checking accounts and I was in complete control of my finances and my life. I always felt as though we were equals, somewhat. I mean I always instinctively took control of the house, because with work and coaching he didn’t have much time to devote to it. And he always paid the bills because he worked year round and his finances were more stable. But I think our relationship isn’t always the partnership that I believe it is. I think he liked it when I was home all summer because he could leave with the house a mess and feel no responsibility towards it….it was “my job.” And he’s hesitant about my new job because now our roles might change. I doubt it would inspire him to do a load of laundry, but he feels guilty now. Almost like he’s jealous, kind of, that we are equals. Last week I was looking through the bills and I saw quite a few that were late….not substantially, but I didn’t see the need in paying late fees when I once again will be getting a paycheck. I told him to let me know what he couldn’t pay with this check and he replied, “Oh, you just pay daycare, groceries, and gas….I’ll take care of the rest.” It kind of hurt my feelings. I mean here I am bringing in paychecks and finally in the position that I could contribute to the family financially, instead of always feeling like a burden, and instead of welcoming that he’s not acknowledging it. For years we have been praying, if Erik gets that $200/month raise then our world would change….we could get a new car, get new furniture, etc, etc, etc…. Now my income has changed substantially and he’s not really excited about it. After overtime we will probably bring in the same amount. He said it won’t really “change” his life that much, and that he liked knowing that the kids were at home with me and they were safe. I think he liked knowing that he was taking care of us….that we depended on him….that we needed him. I think that he feels as though he has somewhat failed, because I have taken on more financial responsibility, and that makes me sad. I don’t think he’s failed at all. We have all of our needs met because of him. That being said, I am glad that I am working. He gets so stressed and depressed and frustrated, as do I, at our inability to make ends meet. I was hoping that I could help him. That we could work together. That I could be an asset instead of an expense. But he’s not open to that yet, I don’t think his ego will allow it. The only thing that I can do, I guess, is pay bills that come in before he sees them (which won’t be really hard because he doesn’t pay close attention to the mail.) He isn’t one of those people that knows the power bill will be due the 7th of each month, unless he sees it he doesn’t pay it. And, I can build up a savings account. And pay for little things…..dates, concerts, camps. Extra things that will help our family but aren’t in our budget.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
a day at home with the kids
What a morning! It is only 1:14 pm and I am EXHAUSTED! And I haven't really done anything!?!?!?! I worked a very little on laundry, which I will have to focus on this afternoon (after my quiet time nap of course). I made a simple lunch of salad, hot dogs, and mixed vegetables and then cleaned up that mess. Well, salad, hot dogs and vegetables for the babies. Ryan exists on chocolate milk and saltine crackers. I stacked up the dishes to wash, but never got around to doing it. We all went outside for a little playtime. Its a BEAUTIFUL day 76ยบ outside. The kids insisted on bubbles, which, up until this month I always thought of as a simple, serene, happy activity. Ummm, not anymore. They can't share. They each want not only their own bubble wand, but their own bubble mixture. Ryan is fine. Bekah knows how to blow bubbles, but she likes to giggle at my reaction when she sticks her finger in the soap and then her mouth. And Olivia, she's just pathetic! Her allergies cause her nose to run like a faucet as soon as it hits the outdoor air, and she can't blow to save her life. Olivia, you see, is a spitter. She gets excited. She takes a deep breath, gathers up her strength, and the spits all over the wand annialating the chance of any bubble ever surviving. She doesn't get discouraged (I don't know if that's a good or bad thing). And no one can help her, she is too big (and stubborn!) for that. She just keeps spitting and spitting until finally she dumps the last remaining bubble solution all over herself and anyone sitting close to her, which today was Bekah. Then it turns into a whole new game, or drawing on the concrete with soap, jumping up and down in soap puddles. All of which results, of course, with me dumping both Olivia and Bekah into the bathtub and Ryan, because he couldn't let a good bath time go by. Then there is the rest of it. The bathing part is just the beginning. I have to sit on the floor, next to the diapers, raising my voice over and over again, calling their names, as they dance around crazy in their robes and eventually naked. Its such a predictable, redundant routine. They completely ignore me, its like some kind of primal trance that forces them to wave their arms around, giggle, and dance. Finally, when my patience wears thin, I grab them each up one at a time and place them on their backs as they wiggle and protest my attempt to assimilate them towards a clothed society. Then I dry their hair. This is always their most fun part. They shake their heads back and forth like little crazy rapid dogs, trying to speed up the process. I remember Chelsea, when she was their age, used to sing at the top of her lungs. She was always kind of shy, but the blanket of noise that the hairdryer provided gave her the confidence to belt out all kinds of tunes from Mary Poppins, to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. No matter how far she was in her performance though, as soon as the hairdryer turned off, she stopped. Returning back to herself. Concerned about the opinions of others. Now, clean, diapered, dressed and hair dry, I was finally able to lay them down and have a few minutes for myself! It's so funny, how something simple like bubbles could be turned into a huge extravaganza of work and exhaustion!
Due to the nice weather I also had to go through their summer clothes from last year. Also a huge event in the Kilmark household. All of a sudden all of their favorite clothes are resurfacing and they are just realizing that they can't live without them, irregardless of whether or not they fit anymore. Olivia's Strawberry Shortcake short ensemble became a crop top/daisy duke outfit this year, but she's yet to notice. Its always amazing to see how much they grow in a year! Today Joan Rivers and all the fashion critics would have gasped in disgust as they saw each of them prancing down their make believe runways wearing crop pants, stars and stripes swimsuits, and cardigan sweaters all at the same time! Colors be damned, today, in our living room, you could wear navy blue, white, peach, orange, and yellow--all in one beautiful rainbow of cotton and polyester. And the smiles, they smiled from ear to ear like they were strutting down the red carpet. Proud of their creations. Ryan was the sweetest though. He's going to be five this summer, and is growing into quite a young man. He's all obsessed with Ed, Edd, and Eddy, and Playstation games. Yet today he was grabbing onto his old t-shirts like he was visiting his childhood claiming Rugrats and Spongebob as mine! It made me sad. I wanted him to go back to last summer as much as he didn't want to let it go.
Olivia said something cute today too. It really isn't much, but it made me giggle. She has a huge pink bunny rabbit that is about the same size as her, and it was chillin' in her Dora chair watching TV. Olivia came walking into the room with a chocolate poptart and said,
Due to the nice weather I also had to go through their summer clothes from last year. Also a huge event in the Kilmark household. All of a sudden all of their favorite clothes are resurfacing and they are just realizing that they can't live without them, irregardless of whether or not they fit anymore. Olivia's Strawberry Shortcake short ensemble became a crop top/daisy duke outfit this year, but she's yet to notice. Its always amazing to see how much they grow in a year! Today Joan Rivers and all the fashion critics would have gasped in disgust as they saw each of them prancing down their make believe runways wearing crop pants, stars and stripes swimsuits, and cardigan sweaters all at the same time! Colors be damned, today, in our living room, you could wear navy blue, white, peach, orange, and yellow--all in one beautiful rainbow of cotton and polyester. And the smiles, they smiled from ear to ear like they were strutting down the red carpet. Proud of their creations. Ryan was the sweetest though. He's going to be five this summer, and is growing into quite a young man. He's all obsessed with Ed, Edd, and Eddy, and Playstation games. Yet today he was grabbing onto his old t-shirts like he was visiting his childhood claiming Rugrats and Spongebob as mine! It made me sad. I wanted him to go back to last summer as much as he didn't want to let it go.
Olivia said something cute today too. It really isn't much, but it made me giggle. She has a huge pink bunny rabbit that is about the same size as her, and it was chillin' in her Dora chair watching TV. Olivia came walking into the room with a chocolate poptart and said,
Good Morning Bunny Rab! Here, bunny, want a tart?I just thought that was hilarious. Not only her having a complete conversation with this stuffed animal, but being such close friends that she could refer to him as bunny rab instead of bunny rabbit! And then being courteous enough to offer him some of her breakfast, how sweet is that? She is so funny. Sometimes I am envious of her, living in a world where every stuffed animal is your best friend and everything you pick up off of the floor is a snack.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
ryan
Today is a fun day so far. Lots of dancing, laughing, and Wiggles. This morning I had to make a dinner for a woman in my M.O.M.S. group that recently had a baby, and the twins had to help of course. They sprinkled on the cheese, and ate most of it, and sprinkled on a little more. I took pictures of them and printed out the recipe to give to the mom. It’s a dinner that we have, and enjoy, a lot.
Yesterday Ryan said I few things that cracked me up so I jotted them down.
First we were on the way to Nana and Papa’s house and I said, “Ryan, aren’t you excited to play with your friend Ben Ben and Carter?” And Ryan replied, “I don’t play with Carter. He doesn’t talk like us. He doesn’t have a good brain. He only says ‘Ka’.” Of course this could be interpreted badly, I don’t want him to discriminate and not play with the not-so-bright kids (and in Carter’s defense, he’s not stupid, just not real talkative yet). But Nana said that’s not the case, Ryan played with him well all day. I just thought that it was interesting that Ryan not only noticed a difference but knew how to articulate it.
Then, on the way home from Nana’s, I was talking to Ryan about how we were going to Illinois for Easter. To the Scovill Zoo and the park. All the places that I used to play at when I was little. And I said, “We are going to where I lived when I was a little girl, like you” With which he responded quickly and appalled with “I was a GIRL!” Of course that was funny. After everything I had just spent 20 minutes talking about, the only thing he remembered was the last phrase.
The girls are napping and Ryan is watching The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl so I need to rest for a bit. There is a lot still to do this week before our trip to Illinois. I have to clean out the van and work on more laundry—in addition to all of the other chores.
Yesterday Ryan said I few things that cracked me up so I jotted them down.
First we were on the way to Nana and Papa’s house and I said, “Ryan, aren’t you excited to play with your friend Ben Ben and Carter?” And Ryan replied, “I don’t play with Carter. He doesn’t talk like us. He doesn’t have a good brain. He only says ‘Ka’.” Of course this could be interpreted badly, I don’t want him to discriminate and not play with the not-so-bright kids (and in Carter’s defense, he’s not stupid, just not real talkative yet). But Nana said that’s not the case, Ryan played with him well all day. I just thought that it was interesting that Ryan not only noticed a difference but knew how to articulate it.
Then, on the way home from Nana’s, I was talking to Ryan about how we were going to Illinois for Easter. To the Scovill Zoo and the park. All the places that I used to play at when I was little. And I said, “We are going to where I lived when I was a little girl, like you” With which he responded quickly and appalled with “I was a GIRL!” Of course that was funny. After everything I had just spent 20 minutes talking about, the only thing he remembered was the last phrase.
The girls are napping and Ryan is watching The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl so I need to rest for a bit. There is a lot still to do this week before our trip to Illinois. I have to clean out the van and work on more laundry—in addition to all of the other chores.
Monday, April 10, 2006
stay at home mom?
This is my first day after layoff, at home, with all of the children.....I really realized that I miss my co-workers, and bathroom breaks, and ability to communicate in a language that all involved understand. My husband, who I dare say doesn't let them outdoors on his watch, wanted me to pack all three up (Ryan, 4 and Olivia and Rebekah, 2) and run them downtown to the city/county building to drop off papers, meet him for lunch at the statehouse, go to the bank to cash a check, fill the van up with gas, return overdue movies to Family Video, drop by CVS to pick up some Tylenol and athletic tape, AND do a load of whites. Of course I got the wrong kind of tape. WHAT A LONG DAY! OK, to be fair to Erik, he just asked me to pick up the tape, go to the attorney, and do a load of whites—everything else just kind of evolved. But to be fair to me, I also make breakfast, supper, picked up the living room, gave all three baths, and folded (although not put away) 2 loads of laundry. I am quite proud of what I accomplished, although I wish it wasn’t followed by a melt down of screaming and crying before the day was over.
And for all of you in my M.O.M.S. group this will have some significance. Although I am sure it is illegal and dangerous, I stick that votive candle we received during class in the cup holder of my van and light it very so softly while I am driving to remind me to find my inner self, relax, and ask the spirits/saints for help through the day. It is silly but it helps me to find peace, and drowned out the Rugrats in Paris cd that’s on eternal replay.
I've realized that I have to do some journaling this summer! And I have to arrange some playgroups. And clean carpets. And sort through summer clothes. Speaking of which---if any of you have any summer clothes for sizes 18 mos girl, 3t girl, and/or 4t boy PLEASE let me know and I will take them off of your hands! Even for a small fee. I couldn't imagine taking everyone shopping! And our budget when I am laid off doesn't allow for much. And I have to teach the girls to blow bubbles, 'cause right now they think those sticks are soapy suckers! I have to work on teaching my son the alphabet and fine tune colors. Potty train the girls. Get the wheel on the double stroller fixed. AND, if I have some extra time, they had kits on sale at Target the other day so I picked one to fix me up some rather fashionable leg warmers :)
I don't even know where to start!
On a happy note though there were a lot of happy moments! Last night after the girls were in bed we put Ryan down and we heard some rustling so we turned up the monitor....imagine our surprise and delight when we heard our 4 year old serenading the babies with the sweetest song....."Go to sleep, Go to sleep. Go to sleep Olivi-wah and Beka-wah" Isn't that sweet? That's what he calls them. Of course even after two and a half years he doesn’t know which one is which, but he at least he knows their names. Most of the time he just refers to them as “the babies.” I guess he doesn’t want to get attached. And they all behaved well today, saying hi and see ya’ when appropriate. That's an improvement! I remember when Ryan was 2 he was having a meltdown at McDonald's and when the sweetest little old woman stopped to tell him it would be OK he looked at her and cried, "I hate you!" The before mentioned story will always be known as my most embarrassing moment!
Jeez, I feel like I am writing a column for some demented mom newsletter. SO anyway, my husband popped in long enough to say hi and watch the kids for 15 minutes so I could run my last errand---he has a Pacers game with his buddy. With that being said after I put the kids to bed, at 8:02 pm to be exact, I will be opening up the year old Berringer in our fridge, taking a long shower, and "melting away" in some kind of pseudo-celebration of my first day, this summer, as a stay at home mom!
Later….
OK, its 9:02 pm (Damn that new daylight savings time! How can I put the kids to bed when the sun is still shining!) And I haven’t popped open the Berringer. I don’t want to face tomorrow with a hangover…..and besides that I am afraid that unbeknownst to me I may have an addictive personality disorder. I don’t see it in myself so much, but it frightens me when Olivia jumps up and down and crumbles into a ball of snot and tears like a heroin addict when I refuse her the 20th popsicle…..and my son with his chocolate milk in the morning….well, it’s reminiscent of a 50 year smoker jonesin’ for that first hit of the day. Besides, who needs wine? It’s the week before Easter and there is a special on Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. Aha! Maybe my addictive personality is not so much a secret.
I don’t know about the shower either yet. It’s still undecided. I know it will make me feel better after the fact, but I am SOOOOO tired!
You know it’s so funny when we go out in public and five hundred people look at me with the double stroller and the boy holding onto the side and remark, “Boy, you have YOUR hands full!” That always strikes me as funny. Not real funny of course, because stating the obvious is just asinine. But it’s almost like a backhanded compliment it seems. I mean I know that they are just trying to make conversation and taking notice of my obvious overwhelmed ness (is that a word? Wait, never mind. Word tells me it’s not. But I can’t think of a simile so bear with me). It always seems to imply to me though that I “got in over my head.” And, although I used protection for 3 out of my 4 children, I “asked for it.” Now that my twins have left their infancy though I realize….I didn’t “ask” for it, I was blessed with it. They are each SO special. And I don’t say that as a “idealistic mother earth” person—you know, one of those people who think their destiny in life was to be a mother, breastfeed their children ‘til their five, and seem to have perfect children. I say it as an exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed mom.
Chelsea, although challenging, is so compassionate, and has such a strong sense of right and wrong. She is so quick to defend the underdog and so much smarter than me.
Ryan, he is SOOO sweet. He’s not feminine, just sweet. He has a hilarious sense of humor as well. Like singing to his sisters. And the other day, when Chelsea had misbehaved and I punished her by not buying her a candy bar at the store---he matter of factly have her half of his, with a nonchalant, “Here, Chels.” Not to undermine me, just because it was the right thing to do.
And Olivia, she is the most sensitive. The artist’s soul. The poet. She’s the one that will sit with crayons and paper and disappear into her own world. Not casually making marks on the paper like her twin, she is very precise in her markings, almost as if she were entranced. She could sit alone for 30 minutes with only a pen and a blank piece of paper to entertain her. She is social, but has no fears of being alone. She always amazes me with her compassion and empathy. Every time she sees a new kid she immediately runs up to them and comments on their shirt, or their hair. Whatever stands them apart, just to let them know she accepts them. And it’s so funny to see her play with others….every time one of them falls (which is rather common amongst toddlers) she falls right down with them. I’m not sure if she thinks it’s a game, or if she doesn’t want them to be embarrassed—but I think it’s an insight into how amazing of a person she will be. Just the other day her daddy was playing that crazy game where the parent pretends to cry if they don’t get a kiss, and instead of the usual giggling reaction….Olivia bawled for five minutes. Just devastated that she had caused her daddy to cry.
And Bekah, well, she’s a personality all her own! She is a funny one, like her brother. She would rather laugh then do just about anything. She is going to be the boss of whatever she does in life. She shares Chelsea’s determination. She has a little OCD I think. Well, a little from me and a little from her dad…so actually it’s quite a bit! She has determined herself my helper/supervisor. Every chore I do throughout the house she is standing in waiting, watching my every move. When I start to load the dishwasher, she is scrimmaging under the sink grabbing the detergent. When I am washing dishes she is sitting on the countertop deciphering what should be done next, “Here mom” she says matter of factly, as she hands me a bowl or a cup. When I am doing laundry her little 20 pound self sits perched up on the corner, throwing clothes in, shutting the lid, pushing the button, and then, when I put her down, she walks away patting her hands together like she’s just accomplished the task all by herself and is ready for the next one. She has this “exactness” in all of her chores. She throws her diaper in the trash. When it’s time for bed, she runs across the room and turns off the TV, like it was her decision. When it’s time to pick up she immediately stops everything she’s doing and puts each thing in its place while the others whine, argue, and delay the inevitable. I swear if I don’t get them both potty-trained soon she will be changing her sister! Every time I lay Olivia on her back she scrambles to the basket to bring me the diapers and then the box of wipes. None of my other children even notice detail, and yet it seems to be what rules and motivates her. I’ve never seen that kind of preciseness in a spirit so young.
So, back to my original point (you may have to refer back to page 2, I’ll wait), saying that I have my hands full……albeit true is just ludicrous. I have a family of such different spirits and hearts and souls, the idea that I should have stopped at two is just ridiculous. That’s like God saying, “You don’t need a right AND left arm, I’ll just take one, you’ll never notice!” Even though they all got here at different times and under different circumstances, they are not by any means more than I can handle. I couldn’t imagine living without any single one of them. They together make up who I am, and without each individual piece it would all crumble as a whole. They are amazing….and I am just lucky to love them.
With that being said I guess my goal tomorrow is the same as every day before today, be patient. I did fine today until about 3:30. I don’t know if it’s because Chelsea came home from school with her customary “Bull in a China Shop” entrance or because I was exhausted and didn’t get as much nap as I needed. I need to not blow up and teach them to yell and snap at one another tomorrow. And lead by example. Focus on using my words, and saying please and thank you. Help them to find solutions, instead of yelling at them all and taking prisoners later. Take lots of deep breaths, and then a few more, and then…..when I can’t take it anymore…..put in Rugrats in Paris and breathe for a few more minutes. I know it’s easy to say all of this in reflection when they are in bed and the house is quiet, but I need to really work into implementing these ideas into my life. I have a doctors appointment tomorrow, so I won’t be in the “swing of things.” It’s harder when you aren’t on the same day with your schedules in synch. But this week I am not going to expect much of myself, I am just scoping things out and trying to come up with a schedule. Maybe by Friday I will pull out the crayons and paper and in a week or two be ready for play-doh. Introduce the letter “A.” Watch less TV, read more books. Start teaching them instead of watching them.
My hope is to one day let all my children read this—so they will know that although their memories are sorted, I really did my best. I think that when you become “middle aged” (ha ha) you forget how hard and emotional it is dealing with kids, and I want them to read my journal as solace to their struggles—preferably while I am retired in an RV down in Florida. I think that as children we never really get to know our parents as people. Even as adults. We never open ourselves up to the idea that they have thoughts, and hopes, and dreams, and their own lives. Maybe this will help close that gap. Give them an insight to my personality. We will see how it works. Maybe if I turn to this as a source of communication while I am home for the summer I won’t be as frustrated, it seems to help.
And for all of you in my M.O.M.S. group this will have some significance. Although I am sure it is illegal and dangerous, I stick that votive candle we received during class in the cup holder of my van and light it very so softly while I am driving to remind me to find my inner self, relax, and ask the spirits/saints for help through the day. It is silly but it helps me to find peace, and drowned out the Rugrats in Paris cd that’s on eternal replay.
I've realized that I have to do some journaling this summer! And I have to arrange some playgroups. And clean carpets. And sort through summer clothes. Speaking of which---if any of you have any summer clothes for sizes 18 mos girl, 3t girl, and/or 4t boy PLEASE let me know and I will take them off of your hands! Even for a small fee. I couldn't imagine taking everyone shopping! And our budget when I am laid off doesn't allow for much. And I have to teach the girls to blow bubbles, 'cause right now they think those sticks are soapy suckers! I have to work on teaching my son the alphabet and fine tune colors. Potty train the girls. Get the wheel on the double stroller fixed. AND, if I have some extra time, they had kits on sale at Target the other day so I picked one to fix me up some rather fashionable leg warmers :)
I don't even know where to start!
On a happy note though there were a lot of happy moments! Last night after the girls were in bed we put Ryan down and we heard some rustling so we turned up the monitor....imagine our surprise and delight when we heard our 4 year old serenading the babies with the sweetest song....."Go to sleep, Go to sleep. Go to sleep Olivi-wah and Beka-wah" Isn't that sweet? That's what he calls them. Of course even after two and a half years he doesn’t know which one is which, but he at least he knows their names. Most of the time he just refers to them as “the babies.” I guess he doesn’t want to get attached. And they all behaved well today, saying hi and see ya’ when appropriate. That's an improvement! I remember when Ryan was 2 he was having a meltdown at McDonald's and when the sweetest little old woman stopped to tell him it would be OK he looked at her and cried, "I hate you!" The before mentioned story will always be known as my most embarrassing moment!
Jeez, I feel like I am writing a column for some demented mom newsletter. SO anyway, my husband popped in long enough to say hi and watch the kids for 15 minutes so I could run my last errand---he has a Pacers game with his buddy. With that being said after I put the kids to bed, at 8:02 pm to be exact, I will be opening up the year old Berringer in our fridge, taking a long shower, and "melting away" in some kind of pseudo-celebration of my first day, this summer, as a stay at home mom!
Later….
OK, its 9:02 pm (Damn that new daylight savings time! How can I put the kids to bed when the sun is still shining!) And I haven’t popped open the Berringer. I don’t want to face tomorrow with a hangover…..and besides that I am afraid that unbeknownst to me I may have an addictive personality disorder. I don’t see it in myself so much, but it frightens me when Olivia jumps up and down and crumbles into a ball of snot and tears like a heroin addict when I refuse her the 20th popsicle…..and my son with his chocolate milk in the morning….well, it’s reminiscent of a 50 year smoker jonesin’ for that first hit of the day. Besides, who needs wine? It’s the week before Easter and there is a special on Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. Aha! Maybe my addictive personality is not so much a secret.
I don’t know about the shower either yet. It’s still undecided. I know it will make me feel better after the fact, but I am SOOOOO tired!
You know it’s so funny when we go out in public and five hundred people look at me with the double stroller and the boy holding onto the side and remark, “Boy, you have YOUR hands full!” That always strikes me as funny. Not real funny of course, because stating the obvious is just asinine. But it’s almost like a backhanded compliment it seems. I mean I know that they are just trying to make conversation and taking notice of my obvious overwhelmed ness (is that a word? Wait, never mind. Word tells me it’s not. But I can’t think of a simile so bear with me). It always seems to imply to me though that I “got in over my head.” And, although I used protection for 3 out of my 4 children, I “asked for it.” Now that my twins have left their infancy though I realize….I didn’t “ask” for it, I was blessed with it. They are each SO special. And I don’t say that as a “idealistic mother earth” person—you know, one of those people who think their destiny in life was to be a mother, breastfeed their children ‘til their five, and seem to have perfect children. I say it as an exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed mom.
Chelsea, although challenging, is so compassionate, and has such a strong sense of right and wrong. She is so quick to defend the underdog and so much smarter than me.
Ryan, he is SOOO sweet. He’s not feminine, just sweet. He has a hilarious sense of humor as well. Like singing to his sisters. And the other day, when Chelsea had misbehaved and I punished her by not buying her a candy bar at the store---he matter of factly have her half of his, with a nonchalant, “Here, Chels.” Not to undermine me, just because it was the right thing to do.
And Olivia, she is the most sensitive. The artist’s soul. The poet. She’s the one that will sit with crayons and paper and disappear into her own world. Not casually making marks on the paper like her twin, she is very precise in her markings, almost as if she were entranced. She could sit alone for 30 minutes with only a pen and a blank piece of paper to entertain her. She is social, but has no fears of being alone. She always amazes me with her compassion and empathy. Every time she sees a new kid she immediately runs up to them and comments on their shirt, or their hair. Whatever stands them apart, just to let them know she accepts them. And it’s so funny to see her play with others….every time one of them falls (which is rather common amongst toddlers) she falls right down with them. I’m not sure if she thinks it’s a game, or if she doesn’t want them to be embarrassed—but I think it’s an insight into how amazing of a person she will be. Just the other day her daddy was playing that crazy game where the parent pretends to cry if they don’t get a kiss, and instead of the usual giggling reaction….Olivia bawled for five minutes. Just devastated that she had caused her daddy to cry.
And Bekah, well, she’s a personality all her own! She is a funny one, like her brother. She would rather laugh then do just about anything. She is going to be the boss of whatever she does in life. She shares Chelsea’s determination. She has a little OCD I think. Well, a little from me and a little from her dad…so actually it’s quite a bit! She has determined herself my helper/supervisor. Every chore I do throughout the house she is standing in waiting, watching my every move. When I start to load the dishwasher, she is scrimmaging under the sink grabbing the detergent. When I am washing dishes she is sitting on the countertop deciphering what should be done next, “Here mom” she says matter of factly, as she hands me a bowl or a cup. When I am doing laundry her little 20 pound self sits perched up on the corner, throwing clothes in, shutting the lid, pushing the button, and then, when I put her down, she walks away patting her hands together like she’s just accomplished the task all by herself and is ready for the next one. She has this “exactness” in all of her chores. She throws her diaper in the trash. When it’s time for bed, she runs across the room and turns off the TV, like it was her decision. When it’s time to pick up she immediately stops everything she’s doing and puts each thing in its place while the others whine, argue, and delay the inevitable. I swear if I don’t get them both potty-trained soon she will be changing her sister! Every time I lay Olivia on her back she scrambles to the basket to bring me the diapers and then the box of wipes. None of my other children even notice detail, and yet it seems to be what rules and motivates her. I’ve never seen that kind of preciseness in a spirit so young.
So, back to my original point (you may have to refer back to page 2, I’ll wait), saying that I have my hands full……albeit true is just ludicrous. I have a family of such different spirits and hearts and souls, the idea that I should have stopped at two is just ridiculous. That’s like God saying, “You don’t need a right AND left arm, I’ll just take one, you’ll never notice!” Even though they all got here at different times and under different circumstances, they are not by any means more than I can handle. I couldn’t imagine living without any single one of them. They together make up who I am, and without each individual piece it would all crumble as a whole. They are amazing….and I am just lucky to love them.
With that being said I guess my goal tomorrow is the same as every day before today, be patient. I did fine today until about 3:30. I don’t know if it’s because Chelsea came home from school with her customary “Bull in a China Shop” entrance or because I was exhausted and didn’t get as much nap as I needed. I need to not blow up and teach them to yell and snap at one another tomorrow. And lead by example. Focus on using my words, and saying please and thank you. Help them to find solutions, instead of yelling at them all and taking prisoners later. Take lots of deep breaths, and then a few more, and then…..when I can’t take it anymore…..put in Rugrats in Paris and breathe for a few more minutes. I know it’s easy to say all of this in reflection when they are in bed and the house is quiet, but I need to really work into implementing these ideas into my life. I have a doctors appointment tomorrow, so I won’t be in the “swing of things.” It’s harder when you aren’t on the same day with your schedules in synch. But this week I am not going to expect much of myself, I am just scoping things out and trying to come up with a schedule. Maybe by Friday I will pull out the crayons and paper and in a week or two be ready for play-doh. Introduce the letter “A.” Watch less TV, read more books. Start teaching them instead of watching them.
My hope is to one day let all my children read this—so they will know that although their memories are sorted, I really did my best. I think that when you become “middle aged” (ha ha) you forget how hard and emotional it is dealing with kids, and I want them to read my journal as solace to their struggles—preferably while I am retired in an RV down in Florida. I think that as children we never really get to know our parents as people. Even as adults. We never open ourselves up to the idea that they have thoughts, and hopes, and dreams, and their own lives. Maybe this will help close that gap. Give them an insight to my personality. We will see how it works. Maybe if I turn to this as a source of communication while I am home for the summer I won’t be as frustrated, it seems to help.
Saturday, April 8, 2006
how to be a mom
I am only 32 years old. I know, to my children, that is old. One day though, 32 won’t be old. I will fondly look back upon it as my “youth.” I still have a lot to do, a lot to see, and a lot to achieve. I want to be a writer. I want to give people all of these random thoughts in my head. I want them to laugh and cry and think, as much as I do when I write them down. I want to sleep in. I want to hop in the car and visit my grandma Eichem. I want to runaway with my husband and laugh, and talk, and sleep, and date. I want to do all the things we never got a chance to do, because we were parents before we were even newlyweds. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a path. I don’t know what to do with the time I have. So my plan now is to make a plan.
Right now as I am typing the babies are finally asleep. Ryan is hidden under my quilt playing with my feet. Talking. Wrapping his fingers in between my toes. Humming with his binky in his mouth. They always have to be touching me. It can get claustrophobic sometimes, all the touching.
how to be a big brother
Today this journal writing is a practice of discipline. I am really tired and would rather be sleeping…but I made a commitment, so here I am. That being said, I never commited to it being a long entry.
This last weekend we went to Illinois for Easter, yesterday Olivia had an appointment at the eye doctor, and today….well, today I am just exhausted. Hence the irritability and lack of thought.
Ryan said something the Friday before we left that I thought was funny though, so I have to get it down. I can’t find the paper now that I jotted it down on though, so I have to remember it. I repeated it a couple of times over the weekend though, so hopefully it will be accurate. I told Ryan, “Hey, did you know Ben Ben is going to have a new baby?” “Is it just going to be one baby, or two?” he asked. “Just one,” I said. “So, you know” I replied, “you are going to have to teach Ben Ben how to be a big brother. What are you going to tell him.” Ryan said, “You can’t let your babies get hurt. And you can’t let people throw toys at them.” He paused for just a minute and continued on, “You can’t let your babies get hit by a car. I know everything about babies.” Finally, he ended the conversation with, “And you can’t let your baby get lost, or someone will get he.” I just thought that was a funny conversation. You know I tell him things here and there, unaware of how much he retains, so it was interesting to hear what things he remembered. What he thought was important to know.
Another idea that I wanted to talk about was being a mom. You know I am only 32 years old. I think it’s important to say that because I know to Chelsea, Ryan, Olivia, and Rebekah think that is old….but when they are in their late twenties/early thirties and read this journal they will know, 32 isn’t really old. I still have a lot I want to do, a lot I want to see, a lot I want to achieve. I want to be a writer. I want to intelligently throw together all the random thoughts in my head and give them to people. And then, when those people are reading those ideas, I want them to laugh and cry and think---as much as I do as I write them down. I want to sleep in. I want to hop in the car in a moment’s notice and visit my grandma Eichem in Enfield, Illinois….who I haven’t seen in almost 10 years—‘cause I miss her, and I need her. I want to runaway with my husband and laugh, and talk, and sleep, and date….things we never got a chance to do because we were parents before we were even really newlyweds. I love meeting people I don’t know and building friendships with them, because in their eyes I see who “Cindy” is….not mom, or wife, or employee, or daughter. But, unfortunately, because time doesn’t allow, I can’t nurture those relationships past their infancy….and I don’t have a lot of “close” friends. And that’s my fault, not anyone else’s. Erik would allow me all the time I wanted or needed if I asked him, but I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a path.
So my commitment now, other than this journal, is to make a plan. First with baby steps, to meet with one person one on one for a little “build the friendship time” once a week, and to plan a play group once a week as well. That’s as far as I am going right now. That is really a big step, there is so much to do here around the house that any time I take away from this address seems causes all kinds of guilt.
Right now as I am typing the babies are finally asleep…and Ryan is hidden under my quilt playing with my feet. Talking. Wrapping his fingers in between them. Humming with his binky in his mouth. They always have to be touching me. It can get claustrophobic sometimes, all the touching.
This last weekend we went to Illinois for Easter, yesterday Olivia had an appointment at the eye doctor, and today….well, today I am just exhausted. Hence the irritability and lack of thought.
Ryan said something the Friday before we left that I thought was funny though, so I have to get it down. I can’t find the paper now that I jotted it down on though, so I have to remember it. I repeated it a couple of times over the weekend though, so hopefully it will be accurate. I told Ryan, “Hey, did you know Ben Ben is going to have a new baby?” “Is it just going to be one baby, or two?” he asked. “Just one,” I said. “So, you know” I replied, “you are going to have to teach Ben Ben how to be a big brother. What are you going to tell him.” Ryan said, “You can’t let your babies get hurt. And you can’t let people throw toys at them.” He paused for just a minute and continued on, “You can’t let your babies get hit by a car. I know everything about babies.” Finally, he ended the conversation with, “And you can’t let your baby get lost, or someone will get he.” I just thought that was a funny conversation. You know I tell him things here and there, unaware of how much he retains, so it was interesting to hear what things he remembered. What he thought was important to know.
Another idea that I wanted to talk about was being a mom. You know I am only 32 years old. I think it’s important to say that because I know to Chelsea, Ryan, Olivia, and Rebekah think that is old….but when they are in their late twenties/early thirties and read this journal they will know, 32 isn’t really old. I still have a lot I want to do, a lot I want to see, a lot I want to achieve. I want to be a writer. I want to intelligently throw together all the random thoughts in my head and give them to people. And then, when those people are reading those ideas, I want them to laugh and cry and think---as much as I do as I write them down. I want to sleep in. I want to hop in the car in a moment’s notice and visit my grandma Eichem in Enfield, Illinois….who I haven’t seen in almost 10 years—‘cause I miss her, and I need her. I want to runaway with my husband and laugh, and talk, and sleep, and date….things we never got a chance to do because we were parents before we were even really newlyweds. I love meeting people I don’t know and building friendships with them, because in their eyes I see who “Cindy” is….not mom, or wife, or employee, or daughter. But, unfortunately, because time doesn’t allow, I can’t nurture those relationships past their infancy….and I don’t have a lot of “close” friends. And that’s my fault, not anyone else’s. Erik would allow me all the time I wanted or needed if I asked him, but I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a path.
So my commitment now, other than this journal, is to make a plan. First with baby steps, to meet with one person one on one for a little “build the friendship time” once a week, and to plan a play group once a week as well. That’s as far as I am going right now. That is really a big step, there is so much to do here around the house that any time I take away from this address seems causes all kinds of guilt.
Right now as I am typing the babies are finally asleep…and Ryan is hidden under my quilt playing with my feet. Talking. Wrapping his fingers in between them. Humming with his binky in his mouth. They always have to be touching me. It can get claustrophobic sometimes, all the touching.
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