After stating that I have my hands full, the second most common comment is, "how do you do it?" as they stare with mixed amusement and horror at my three, wiggling boys. My most frequent responses are, "I don't" (which I'm not sure what I mean by that), "It's nuts but it's fun" (for those who can't imagine not loving every minute of it - obviously, people who have no clue), and, if the boys are really acting up, I just grunt and shrug my shoulders while controlling my urge to throttle the person who is somehow challenging my already limited amount of patience.
Of course, I could be a bit more helpful, though, so I'm going to try to start writing periodic emails on little tricks I have come up with to manage the chaos. No one likes long lists so I'm going to keep this relatively short and sweet. Hope these are helpful to someone out there:
* One of my most recent tricks that has proved handy is pouring a 1/4 cup or 1/2 cup of water (I totally don't measure - I'm just giving you an idea) onto the tray of the twins' high chairs at the end of their feeding but before I want to get them out. The high chairs we have have a nice large tray that is recessed enough to hold the babies' foods. Benefits of this are: babies are supremely entertained by splashing like mad in it which helps wash their already messy hands and their face to some degree depending on how enthusiastic their splashing is; it cools them off when it's hot; and it helps to begin cleaning the messy junk off the tray.
* In an effort to reuse things around the house, we found a fun way to reuse the Graduates Veggie Puff containers. After the boys have finished eating one, we clean it and tear the advertising label off so that it's just white. (For those of you who haven't had the privilege of getting these, they have a unique shape that is cylindrical but with a curve in it.) It dawned on me that they're shaped like bowling pins. We have collected enough of them now that we place them on the hardwood floor in our living room like they are set up for bowling and we let the big buy (and us when we can't control ourselves) have at it with a fun game of bowling using whatever balls we can grab at the time. It's fun, it's cheap and it keeps garbage out of the trash.
* Our oldest is a very passionate dude. When he likes doing something, particularly an activity that he hasn't done before, he goes absolutely nuts. An example is that he has been introduced to alphabet games on the computer. His first experience with the games was so amazing to him that he absolutely flipped out when we had to stop. Flipped out. Rather than avoiding the activity altogether I started using a timer to give him a clear idea how long he could play. So, I set the timer for 30 minutes and he knows now when the timer goes off it's time for some other activity. The first time we did it he was a little grumpy but the second time he just jumped and ran out of the room. It was super.
Anyway, these are some things that have helped me and perhaps they could help someone else. Although some are "original" to me in that I came up with it without having heard about the idea from someone else (i.e., they're probably not totally original), the timer idea for sure is something I had heard about and wanted to pass on.
I'd love to hear from you too. If you'd like to share a trick of yours, please comment to this post so that we can all help each other out.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Embracing motherhood
Every cell of my body is baptized in motherly fluids. Embryonic, breast milk, tears, blood, sweat. Then later, formula, spit up, and urine. I've been expanded, divided, engorged, disgorged, stretched and emptied, kissed and kicked. Still, I'm stronger now and, as much as I feel like I've spent every ounce of energy, I somehow have the endurance to keep going. I didn't know how much of a fighter I was until I actually had to fight. The early years with this many young children is reminiscent of being in the trenches. Of course, these boys aren't my enemy but they sure can act like drill sergeants at times.
Becoming a mom awakens ones senses. I feel the wildness in me when my wolf-like senses reveal a quietly crying baby on the other side of the house, my sense of smell tunes into a smelly diaper that no one else smells, or the 6th sense of "something isn't quite right". It took me a while to tap into this instinct but now I can't shut it off. I don't want to though. It's invigorating. My body is doing what it is meant to do and I'm embracing that.
Of course, smelling a dirty diaper is less than pleasant. Smelling, or rather, inhaling the beautiful scent of my babies is unimaginably sublime. Feeling the sensation of stepping on half-chewed food is disgusting but feeling my oldest's little fingers trying to tickle my foot is amusing and fun. Holding my babies feels so good. If only I could hold them all at the same time. One of my favorite times with my boys is when I lay on the floor and they all jump, crawl and attack me. Like a dog with her puppies, they slobber all over me and step in places they shouldn't but I love it and I close my eyes and listen to their squeals and laughter and my innate motherly self feels immersed in beauty. I give myself over to them and I couldn't be happier
Becoming a mom awakens ones senses. I feel the wildness in me when my wolf-like senses reveal a quietly crying baby on the other side of the house, my sense of smell tunes into a smelly diaper that no one else smells, or the 6th sense of "something isn't quite right". It took me a while to tap into this instinct but now I can't shut it off. I don't want to though. It's invigorating. My body is doing what it is meant to do and I'm embracing that.
Of course, smelling a dirty diaper is less than pleasant. Smelling, or rather, inhaling the beautiful scent of my babies is unimaginably sublime. Feeling the sensation of stepping on half-chewed food is disgusting but feeling my oldest's little fingers trying to tickle my foot is amusing and fun. Holding my babies feels so good. If only I could hold them all at the same time. One of my favorite times with my boys is when I lay on the floor and they all jump, crawl and attack me. Like a dog with her puppies, they slobber all over me and step in places they shouldn't but I love it and I close my eyes and listen to their squeals and laughter and my innate motherly self feels immersed in beauty. I give myself over to them and I couldn't be happier
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Beyond green
I'm inherently insecure although I'm getting over it these days. I can't afford to be. Having said that, I might be deemed obnoxious since my strong opinions are becoming less diluted and polite. If I didn't have three children who are my responsibility and whose future I'm profoundly interested in, I probably would still be secretly sending in money to Sierra Club and other environmental organizations while hypocritically driving to the store instead of biking or using a billion paper towels a day to keep things clean.
Having been raised in Texas, I should be used to being different. I was a vegetarian in high school when my fellow students either never thought twice about meat or were actively raising cattle as a part of "Ag". I didn't go to church. I was less interested in fashion than I was human rights and the state of the world. People didn't understand me then and they still don't quite understand me now. I seem so normal but I'm very weird, apparently. Even in the early days of our marriage, my hubby saw me as the environmentalist in our family but now he may have even surpassed me. Go figure.
I hate self-righteousness so I hope I don't come across that way. I don't expect everyone to believe what I do. The road to becoming an environmentally minded person is varied. Some people are born with an interest in nature and have the fortune to be surrounded by people who help them experience it from an early age. Others reach it from a health perspective when they realize how their mortality is influenced heavily by what we dump into our environment. Still others may begin focusing on the environment when it occurs to them how much our way of life may soon be challenged by our supreme dependence on the finite resource of oil. I'm sure there are many other avenues to it but those are just a few. I personally always had an interest in nature and had the fortune to be introduced to its magic by my parents and family. In my family, life is celebrated in all its beauteous and magnificent forms.
I'm experiencing a metamorphosis these days and I think I may becoming something even more radical than I was in the past. I used to talk myself out of changing certain things I did because I was plain cynical about the impact it would have. It's hard to feel like you're making any difference when you're surrounded by Hummers and huge SUVs. At least in Dallas, people are almost arrogant about not being environmentally conscious. After all, it's a God-given right that we do everything big, bad and wasteful. What I find particularly amusing is when a wasteful practice such as throwing any and everything away is considered not only normal but THE way. When you go to the trouble of freecycling, reusing, recycling you're weird. Strange that being resourceful and unwasteful is not valued these days. I don't get it. What is there to be proud of of throwing more shit into a landfill? Beats me.
So, my hubby and I are doing a little at a time to change our lives from wasteful to resourceful. From changing light bulbs to energy-efficient ones, using torn up receiving blankets instead of paper towels, biking or riding the train instead of driving, we're living more simply and mindfully. Many would argue that we're inherently violating environmental ethics by having had 3 children. True. We've added to overpopulation by doing more than "replacing" ourselves. All I can say is that it was unintentional (although very welcomed). Our goal is to raise our children in an environment which will hopefully encourage them to respect their place in this world and help them understand how choices make a direct impact on the world despite what some may believe. Ultimately, there being here has served more as an inspiration for us to fight for what we believe in - for us to live how we feel our society needs to in order for our kids to have a better quality of life than they'd have if we didn't.
Having been raised in Texas, I should be used to being different. I was a vegetarian in high school when my fellow students either never thought twice about meat or were actively raising cattle as a part of "Ag". I didn't go to church. I was less interested in fashion than I was human rights and the state of the world. People didn't understand me then and they still don't quite understand me now. I seem so normal but I'm very weird, apparently. Even in the early days of our marriage, my hubby saw me as the environmentalist in our family but now he may have even surpassed me. Go figure.
I hate self-righteousness so I hope I don't come across that way. I don't expect everyone to believe what I do. The road to becoming an environmentally minded person is varied. Some people are born with an interest in nature and have the fortune to be surrounded by people who help them experience it from an early age. Others reach it from a health perspective when they realize how their mortality is influenced heavily by what we dump into our environment. Still others may begin focusing on the environment when it occurs to them how much our way of life may soon be challenged by our supreme dependence on the finite resource of oil. I'm sure there are many other avenues to it but those are just a few. I personally always had an interest in nature and had the fortune to be introduced to its magic by my parents and family. In my family, life is celebrated in all its beauteous and magnificent forms.
I'm experiencing a metamorphosis these days and I think I may becoming something even more radical than I was in the past. I used to talk myself out of changing certain things I did because I was plain cynical about the impact it would have. It's hard to feel like you're making any difference when you're surrounded by Hummers and huge SUVs. At least in Dallas, people are almost arrogant about not being environmentally conscious. After all, it's a God-given right that we do everything big, bad and wasteful. What I find particularly amusing is when a wasteful practice such as throwing any and everything away is considered not only normal but THE way. When you go to the trouble of freecycling, reusing, recycling you're weird. Strange that being resourceful and unwasteful is not valued these days. I don't get it. What is there to be proud of of throwing more shit into a landfill? Beats me.
So, my hubby and I are doing a little at a time to change our lives from wasteful to resourceful. From changing light bulbs to energy-efficient ones, using torn up receiving blankets instead of paper towels, biking or riding the train instead of driving, we're living more simply and mindfully. Many would argue that we're inherently violating environmental ethics by having had 3 children. True. We've added to overpopulation by doing more than "replacing" ourselves. All I can say is that it was unintentional (although very welcomed). Our goal is to raise our children in an environment which will hopefully encourage them to respect their place in this world and help them understand how choices make a direct impact on the world despite what some may believe. Ultimately, there being here has served more as an inspiration for us to fight for what we believe in - for us to live how we feel our society needs to in order for our kids to have a better quality of life than they'd have if we didn't.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Ordinary beauty
I have a suspicion (or perhaps it's my conscience whispering to me) that some of my friends or family who have heard me vent about how insane my life is now wonder why I don't seem grateful for the fact that we were able to have children after all the struggles we had in order to have children in the first place. Simply put, isn't this what we wanted? Isn't this what we were begging for? Yes, it is but. . .
So, my conscience has been tumbling this question around for quite some time now - about 2 years and 9 months to be exact - and I finally feel that I understand. Essentially, one never knows what it's like to have your own child. Your own. Not someone else's. Not your brother's. Not your friend's. Your own. It's entirely different. If you haven't experienced it yourself, don't pretend you understand because you don't. Trust me. I thought I had an idea but I had no idea. Becoming a parent is a transformation of your entire being and has to be experienced in order to be understood. You can't empathize about this no matter how open-minded you are. If I had to sum up why it's because you can't imagine how much you can love a child and you also can't understand the immense responsibility that comes with raising your own child. Parenting can warm a cold, hard soul or can bring you to your knees begging for mercy. It's a blessing and a beating and it's worth it.
With this new understanding and acceptance, I have begun to open my eyes. The monotony of caring for young children at home can be brutal. Wake up 7:00 a.m. Feed twins. 7:30 oldest wakes up. Feed him. Feed self. Put laundry on. Change diapers, clothes. Prepare lunch. Serve lunch. Clean messy faces, etc., etc. Tedious. It doesn't have to be though. That's the amazing thing. For example, during a grueling diaper marathon (i.e., changing 3 dirty diapers one after the other), I might find myself covered in poo yet one of my babies might give me a smile that just makes me feel so good or my oldest might make me so proud by bringing me a diaper to change his baby brother. It's simple. It's pure. It's sweet and it's fleeting but another moment is always around the corner.
This morning, I sat in the living room and watched the twins playing on the floor. They were laughing and stealing toys back and forth from each other. My oldest was napping in his room. I was sitting on our couch folding the day's laundry and I felt at peace. My babies were fed and happy and I was relaxing as I folded each of my babys' clothes. Little jammies, shirts, shorts. Each little tiny outfit held special meaning to me and I pictured each little rascal in their clothes. I could have just been annoyed by yet another load of laundry but instead I took my time with each article of clothes and carefully folded each one. The sun shown down from the sky light above me and I felt blessed and complete.
There is a beauty to our routine and our life here and I'm thankful that I see it. I remember my Dad once telling me when I was a kid how we can make ourselves learn to enjoy things that we don't like (in this instance, I was grumbling about having to do the dishes). I often remember him telling me that as I did my chores. At the time, I thought that he was just trying to get me to quit griping and do whatever chore needed to be done. Now, though, I understand he did really mean what he was saying. I realize that I have a choice to see beauty in the little things and that that in itself is a gift. I could sit and grumble about how hard my life is - and certainly it definitely has had it's moments - but I'd be missing an opportunity to live fully, experiencing each sacred moment. Although I may still vent from time to time, I do hope to keep this perspective. I feel thankful that my life is rich with both ordinary and extraordinary beauty and I embrace it.
So, my conscience has been tumbling this question around for quite some time now - about 2 years and 9 months to be exact - and I finally feel that I understand. Essentially, one never knows what it's like to have your own child. Your own. Not someone else's. Not your brother's. Not your friend's. Your own. It's entirely different. If you haven't experienced it yourself, don't pretend you understand because you don't. Trust me. I thought I had an idea but I had no idea. Becoming a parent is a transformation of your entire being and has to be experienced in order to be understood. You can't empathize about this no matter how open-minded you are. If I had to sum up why it's because you can't imagine how much you can love a child and you also can't understand the immense responsibility that comes with raising your own child. Parenting can warm a cold, hard soul or can bring you to your knees begging for mercy. It's a blessing and a beating and it's worth it.
With this new understanding and acceptance, I have begun to open my eyes. The monotony of caring for young children at home can be brutal. Wake up 7:00 a.m. Feed twins. 7:30 oldest wakes up. Feed him. Feed self. Put laundry on. Change diapers, clothes. Prepare lunch. Serve lunch. Clean messy faces, etc., etc. Tedious. It doesn't have to be though. That's the amazing thing. For example, during a grueling diaper marathon (i.e., changing 3 dirty diapers one after the other), I might find myself covered in poo yet one of my babies might give me a smile that just makes me feel so good or my oldest might make me so proud by bringing me a diaper to change his baby brother. It's simple. It's pure. It's sweet and it's fleeting but another moment is always around the corner.
This morning, I sat in the living room and watched the twins playing on the floor. They were laughing and stealing toys back and forth from each other. My oldest was napping in his room. I was sitting on our couch folding the day's laundry and I felt at peace. My babies were fed and happy and I was relaxing as I folded each of my babys' clothes. Little jammies, shirts, shorts. Each little tiny outfit held special meaning to me and I pictured each little rascal in their clothes. I could have just been annoyed by yet another load of laundry but instead I took my time with each article of clothes and carefully folded each one. The sun shown down from the sky light above me and I felt blessed and complete.
There is a beauty to our routine and our life here and I'm thankful that I see it. I remember my Dad once telling me when I was a kid how we can make ourselves learn to enjoy things that we don't like (in this instance, I was grumbling about having to do the dishes). I often remember him telling me that as I did my chores. At the time, I thought that he was just trying to get me to quit griping and do whatever chore needed to be done. Now, though, I understand he did really mean what he was saying. I realize that I have a choice to see beauty in the little things and that that in itself is a gift. I could sit and grumble about how hard my life is - and certainly it definitely has had it's moments - but I'd be missing an opportunity to live fully, experiencing each sacred moment. Although I may still vent from time to time, I do hope to keep this perspective. I feel thankful that my life is rich with both ordinary and extraordinary beauty and I embrace it.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Anger, relief, rest and return
I was right, although I didn't believe myself. The so-called expert hoodwinked me into thinking he knew my body better than I did. His clinical data seemed more legitimate than the pain I was experiencing but whatever. I woke up from the surgery to discover that the surgeon now understood why I was in pain: my fallopian tube was corkscrewed around the ovary and ovary ligament. It was wrapped several times around it preventing the fluid in the tube (the diameter of an orange) from draining. Hmmm...sound painful? It was apparently very rare and surprised everyone. One of the nurses told me that I was "a mess in there". I wanted to ask her if she wouldn't mind checking out my head since I let the surgeon convince me that the hydrosalpinx shouldn't be that painful.
Initially, I was very mad at him for being an arrogant physician blinded by data but then I realized that I really was mad at myself for letting him convince me I was wrong. Lesson learned hopefully. Thankfully, Dr. Hays had listened to me and knew me well enough to know that I don't cry wolf.
My recovery has been decent. I could not have done it without the amazing support of my hubby's parents. More than anyone on this planet, they know the day in and day out of our lives here. It helps to share that with someone so that we don't feel so isolated and misunderstood.
Although I'm still in a little pain, especially when lifting babes a lot, I'm improving. I'm a little concerned that something else may be going on but it's still too early to tell. Too tired and too busy to worry about it yet. I'll try to give my body time to heal.
This isn't the most exciting post I have ever written but I felt I needed to write a follow up to my previous one. I have several other posts that I would like to write that were inspired by the events of the last few weeks. Although the dullness of this post might suggest that the events over the last few weeks were uneventful, they actually provided some inspiration which I hope will be conveyed on the blog in the future.
Peace and good health to all.
Initially, I was very mad at him for being an arrogant physician blinded by data but then I realized that I really was mad at myself for letting him convince me I was wrong. Lesson learned hopefully. Thankfully, Dr. Hays had listened to me and knew me well enough to know that I don't cry wolf.
My recovery has been decent. I could not have done it without the amazing support of my hubby's parents. More than anyone on this planet, they know the day in and day out of our lives here. It helps to share that with someone so that we don't feel so isolated and misunderstood.
Although I'm still in a little pain, especially when lifting babes a lot, I'm improving. I'm a little concerned that something else may be going on but it's still too early to tell. Too tired and too busy to worry about it yet. I'll try to give my body time to heal.
This isn't the most exciting post I have ever written but I felt I needed to write a follow up to my previous one. I have several other posts that I would like to write that were inspired by the events of the last few weeks. Although the dullness of this post might suggest that the events over the last few weeks were uneventful, they actually provided some inspiration which I hope will be conveyed on the blog in the future.
Peace and good health to all.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Under the knife
I have surgery tomorrow, and I have mixed emotions and adrenaline flowing through my veins. I guess tomorrow anesthetic will course through them and send me on a journey which will hopefully be uneventful and anticlimactic. I don't need any more drama.
I've been calm about it up until tonight. Although it is appreciated and welcomed, the "good luck" phone calls from family only seem to highlight the concern of others about my well being and thus send my mind down the path of what if. No need to explain the what ifs in this scenario: Cancer, surgeon error, whatever. Those thoughts then lead to my husband, my babies, my family. Phrases such as "if this happens, then we'll have to open you up" and "blood transfusion" and "vascular surgeon", etc. spoken by the surgeon echo in my head. With all the paperwork you have to sign about the rare but horrible consequences of surgery, I wish there were an option to sign one that says, "don't tell me a damn thing and just do it." Guess that doesn't cover their butt enough and Lord knows they don't care about mine (in reference to the lovely hospital gown I'll be sporting tomorrow).
Ah, well. It's a day I've been hoping for because I'd like my life to return to "normal". I am glad it's here finally but now it's time to hope it goes well. I'll hug and kiss my babes a little more tonight. Let's just hope my next post is about how great I feel now.
I've been calm about it up until tonight. Although it is appreciated and welcomed, the "good luck" phone calls from family only seem to highlight the concern of others about my well being and thus send my mind down the path of what if. No need to explain the what ifs in this scenario: Cancer, surgeon error, whatever. Those thoughts then lead to my husband, my babies, my family. Phrases such as "if this happens, then we'll have to open you up" and "blood transfusion" and "vascular surgeon", etc. spoken by the surgeon echo in my head. With all the paperwork you have to sign about the rare but horrible consequences of surgery, I wish there were an option to sign one that says, "don't tell me a damn thing and just do it." Guess that doesn't cover their butt enough and Lord knows they don't care about mine (in reference to the lovely hospital gown I'll be sporting tomorrow).
Ah, well. It's a day I've been hoping for because I'd like my life to return to "normal". I am glad it's here finally but now it's time to hope it goes well. I'll hug and kiss my babes a little more tonight. Let's just hope my next post is about how great I feel now.
Praise for Dr. Tracy Hays
She is truly a beam of sunshine in the darkest of times. I have had my share of those dark times over the last few years. From infertility to preterm labor with twins to chronic pelvic pain, Dr. Hays helped me stay focused on what was important, listened to all my fears and concerns regardless of how irrational or unfounded, and managed the care of myself and my sweet, darling babies with great professionalism, warmth and attentiveness. I could not ask for a better doctor.
Tomorrow, I'm having surgery to hopefully alleviate the pain I've been experiencing for the last few weeks. Throughout this stressful time, she has repeatedly been an advocate for me and has not only monitored my physical well being she has taken into consideration how surgery affects how I function as a mother to 3 babies. She listens and she acts. I feel understood by her, and I feel cared for in a way that most physicians couldn't possibly replicate.
She is more than a doctor. She brings to her job something special that anyone who works around her is immediately aware of. I appreciate everything she has done for me. Thank you, Dr. Hays.
Tomorrow, I'm having surgery to hopefully alleviate the pain I've been experiencing for the last few weeks. Throughout this stressful time, she has repeatedly been an advocate for me and has not only monitored my physical well being she has taken into consideration how surgery affects how I function as a mother to 3 babies. She listens and she acts. I feel understood by her, and I feel cared for in a way that most physicians couldn't possibly replicate.
She is more than a doctor. She brings to her job something special that anyone who works around her is immediately aware of. I appreciate everything she has done for me. Thank you, Dr. Hays.
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