Thoughts on Twins

I have gone back and forth over the last three years between saying that twins are double the work of one child and that twins are not that much work. I think it is safe to say, now looking back with all my accumulated three years of wisdom (wink), that it really is a LOT of work to have twins. Definitely more work than just one baby. And I complain about this sometimes - especially when I think about potty training.

However, I have to remind myself of moments like last night. We had just bought our third blowup pool in the last two years. (We don't have good luck with these things. We seem to lose them or lose integral parts like air plugs.) We had a pizza picnic while we waited for it to blow up and fill up with water. It was finally close enough to being done that the kids could get in. They just played in their swim diapers. (Side note: cute toddler tookuses and darling little tan lines were evident throughout this whole event.) They had such a good time with each other. Curt and I were able to sit and watch and smile (he even managed to squeeze in a quick game on his phone). They were telling each other jokes that only the two of them could "get" - and laughing hysterically at each one. They took turns on the slide and giddily splashed and chased each other. It was wonderful to watch.

I am so thankful that my kids have always had a playmate. Even if we had had another baby "close" in age to our first - the little one still probably would only be a year or so old and not able of the kind of playing together that my two kids have always had. Micah is an extrovert (a very shy extrovert if that makes any sense) and greatly desires someone to play with him all the time (and to play his way). She doesn't really need this interaction, but hates seeing her brother sad, so she will frequently go along with her brother's play schemes. They really are great friends. They frequently play with each other on the playground, to the exclusion of any poor stranger child that is looking for a playmate for the day. (They do also play very well with some of their more regular playmates.) I have seen both of them come to the defense of the other when there seems to be a threatening situation on the playground. They love talking and laughing with each other when they are supposed to be sleeping. And I have a feeling that if we ever do have a third bedroom....the two of them will not be nearly as happy about it as I will be.

P.S. I was tempted to not really waste a swim diaper on last night's playtime. However, I was reminded of this picture from last night and decided it was worth it....

Quick Vent

I am officially quitting my part-time job at the end of this school year. By part-time, I mean that I have worked ONE day a week for the past three years that I have been a mom. My kids have been cared for lovingly (in their own home) by our Florida grandmother whom God generously blessed us with. At the beginning of each school year, my loving husband and I have evaluated our families' needs and my desires and have chosen each time for me to continue working ONE day a week, until this year.

Am I excited about this change? Two answers: First answer, Yes, I am excited about having my mind completely free of anything "school" related. My mind gets a little cluttered sometimes and having extra free space to think about raising toddlers and feeding infants and serving my husband and creating a happy home does make me excited. Second answer, No, I have no stirred emotions - good or bad - about the amount of time this means I will now be spending at home. Because, in reality, I am spending only 1/7th more time in my home next year than I did this year. That is it. And that is where the rub comes in.

I have been highly annoyed by people's reactions to me quitting this little part-time job of mine. Their immediate reaction is, "good for you. Staying home with your children is such an important thing. You will never regret this time spent with your children." Was I not staying home with them before? Did they think that me working one day a week was causing my children to suffer? One day? Really??

I obviously know that being with your children is a big, big deal. Coming from someone whose only influence from her biological mother came before the age of seven, I do believe that your early years and the influences you receive during those years matter, even if it doesn't always make sense to me how. I have made sacrifices in the last three years to stay home with them. Believe it or not, my boss doesn't pay me the same amount to work one day as he did to work five days a week. This pay cut has contributed to us not having any hope of moving out of our two-bedroom house with our three multi-gender children. Lower income has meant making do with one car for much of the time, driving to Indiana for vacation instead of flying, and other little sacrifices. Mostly, it has meant not seeing any real way to come up with the extra 60,000 dollars we would need to give the bank if we would try to sell our home right now. But that is okay. Curt and I are the ones that are the primary influences on our children. I get to read to them, and play with them, and make their lunch, and kiss them before naptime. I am very thankful for this.

To say that I am just now becoming a "full-time" mom makes me want to scream a little bit. If I am just now becoming this, than maybe I should have been doing things a little differently the past three years. Maybe for the four days a week that I wasn't working I should have been going to the mall by myself, eating relaxing lunches with friends, and taking personal trips to the beach. I don't think that my life with toddler twins for the past three years has looked anything like those things.

Anyway...that is just my vent. Yes, maybe now I am a "fuller-time" mom, but I certainly don't think that I wasn't one before this time either.

(Side note before I finish my vent: I say we have made sacrifices for me to stay at home, and we have. The house thing is kind of a big deal. However, I also know that our sacrifices are actually really really small. We have a fine life. We are able to do fun things. We eat out more than we should. We are really very, very blessed. And as far as the house thing goes, as much as I don't love the size of my house, I do love that I have a home to take care of my family in. I sometimes have one of those "woah" moments when I think that I am really an adult, wife, and mother, and this is really the home that my kids will picture when they picture their (hopefully) happy childhood. That makes my home blessed. Also, the "Florida grandmother" that God graciously placed three streets down from us makes up for so many faults of my little house. It is a good reminder that even though financially we wish we hadn't bought this house before the market crashed, God clearly has faithfully provided for us during this time in a way that is way greater than cash.)

(Side note again. Take a look at the 2nd paragraph again. Notice that I said feeding "infants" in the plural state. I simply cannot train my brain to think about the fact that I am only having one baby this time. I continually think in plurals. Haha)

Parenting Overdrive

So maybe it is just because we are on the march to 2 years old, or maybe it is because I was getting too comfortable in this current toddler phase, but in the last week, my dose of parenting has had to step it up a notch or few (thousand). Here are some of the things that I've been faced with the last few weeks...

Micah learned to climb out of his crib. Yup. Wow. It all started on a day where the morning (for Mackenna) held a squished hand in the door (accidentally, but forcefully, done by me), an eaten orange crayon (that really does come out the other end looking orange), and a cracked head on a concrete slab. The doctor was having me wake her up every few hours, so I decided to put her down to bed in our room so that waking her up wouldn't also mean waking Micah up. (Keep in mind that Curt was not home that evening - of course.) This absolutely, positively, infuriated the little guy. And I don't just think that he was concerned that she was still up and playing and he was missing it; it did actually seem like he just really wanted to be with her. His screaming in the next room prompted her screaming also - so I closed both doors, came out to the couch, and listened to their screaming for awhile. I started doing something else, and her screaming calmed down. I decided it was time to go check on Micah (my plan was to go show him that she was sleeping in our room). I opened the door to the room and was greeted by my sweet boy, thumb in mouth, frog in hand, just walking confidently, calmly toward me. My eyes did a double take. I second guessed whether or not I had remembered to actually put him in bed. I was totally shocked...and a little gitty about the whole situation. Part of me wanted to laugh, part of me wanted to congratulate him, part of me wanted to cry because my life was over, and part of me wanted to yell at him for messing up the perfect April Fool's day joke/picture about Micah climbing into Mackenna's crib that I had been plotting for weeks (this was the 31st). Anyway, he proceeded to do this two more times in the next 15 minutes - each time without hurting himself and each time as happily as could be. I gave up and decided to sit with the kids and read books until Curt got home. Marcia then called to check on plans for the week, and I told her about my evening. She came down and we re-did the bedtime routine, putting both kids to bed in the same room, and they both happily stayed in their crib. The reaction on Curt's face when I told him later was priceless. I really should have taped it -- it involved him hitting his head and opening his mouth WIDE in surprise! So that is the story - the parenting part of it involves a decision to possibly turn his crib around so that the high side faces out and the lower side faces the wall. I will also respond much better and actually correct him for this in the future (I already have had to twice), when I'm not completely overwhelmed by shock. We will go for a mixture of avoidance and correction on this one.

Also, Mackenna has decided that it is fun to ask to go potty and to sit on the potty about 5 to 10 times a day. I feel bad turning down this request, but neither am I really ready to go down this road - at all.

Micah went on a binge last week where he was throwing all of his food on the floor - unless it was fruit or cookies.

Micah is also getting really demanding. His vocabulary is growing (more on that in a few days - 21 month post) and he is really quite clear with his words. He consistently points to where he wants to go and says "that way" or points to what he wants and says "that one." Yup, that is special. He also has transitioned into violence when he doesn't get his way. This may mean hitting (or even biting) his sister if she is nearby, or it may mean throwing a toy or slapping mom or dad. Last night, Curt told him he couldn't move the slide onto the driveway from the "grass" and Micah proceeded to stiff arm push the little tikes basketball goal over that Curt was shooting baskets into, and then giving Curt a look that says "what now!?" Wow.

Mackenna is getting less violent - she hadn't bitten for months...until today. (This does keep in consistency with the pattern so far that they pendulum swing on behavior patterns - one is good, one is difficult, and then they flip flop on lots of things, lots of the time. Not sure if it is twin related, or just toddler related.)

So yes. Not for the weak at heart. And sometimes I feel VERY weak at heart.

Why does bringing another baby into my house petrify me?

So if having two kids isn't so bad, why does having a third one kind of weird me out? I've been thinking a lot about this one. A big part of my brain can't fathom loving anyone other kids like Micah and Mackenna. You would think the fact that I've made the transition before from not loving a baby, to meeting two babies, getting to know them, and falling crazy in love with them would make this idea of loving another one not seem so alien-like. But it doesn't. In fact, I think I decided (while I was scrubbing the milk out of the sippy cups), that it actually makes this idea seem even weirder. You see, before, when I was childless and longing to be a mother, I didn't really understand what a mother's obsession would really be like. Oh, I thought I did, and I really did to some extent, but not fully. I actually thought that I wouldn't love my kids as much I loved some of the other darlings in my life. Oh my - was I wrong. So, then, I would see a baby or a toddler and think how cute they were and I could imagine myself bringing them into my home and loving them. Because I thought I already loved them. But now, I see a different baby or toddler and I can't imagine bringing something like them into my home to love. They seem strange and alienlike to me. I enjoy them, I like them, and some of them I love - but they are not Micah and Mackenna - and they don't fill my heart with obsession. I think this is why the thought of bringing a third stranger into my home - Curt, Laura, Micah, and Mackenna's home - feels really weird. In my head I know I will fall obsessively in love with any child God brings into our home, however he does it. But in my heart, the idea just seems off. Like ET coming to live with us - an ET that comes with a lot of mess and crusty milk in sippy cups.