Permission

Zach brought me coffee in bed one day recently. It was nice. The next day I requested coffee in bed. The next day it was, "Wake me when the coffee is ready." That has quickly morphed into, "Wake me with coffee." Just like the good ole Folgers commercials. It can't be a good sign that I can't wake up without coffee in front of my face. I can see my future: I'll be a millionaire because I've successfully marketed the first 'caffeine drip/alarm clock all-in-one'. Sure to be a hit. Just pour in the grounds, add some water, set the timer/alarm, and plug yourself in with the IV attachment. You get the idea.

The wise old mothers say that going from one kid to two quadruples the amount of work, that it's exponential. I never doubted them, it's just hard to internalize that when you're not yet in the situation. But now that I am in that situation, I have to say that's not my experience. My experience of mothering more than one child is a kind of insanity that is immeasurable. It used to be that I felt all haughty with people who don't have kids because, they just don't understand. But now it's a different story...now I'm all, psshaw lightweight, you've only got one.

I'm so tired I can't think straight. I can't remember simple words, or the reason why I walked into the adjoining room. The exhaustion comes in waves, at times it's a familiar sort of gnawing at my soul. Other times it feels like I might actually die from being so tired and so busy. There are people who have many, many more kids. These people scare me. I think they are super-heroes. I think if I only had to be a mother and do housework, I might be able to handle it, but it's all the other things I take on. All the other obligations I have because I can't say no and because I'm a 'if you want something done right, do it yourself' sort of person. And then I can't let go of those things when they become too much.

My point is, that's what life has become here. Something they have not yet created the words for. And something that has been really weighing on me is my little monthly blogs for Jacob and Sabine. I'm a week behind with Beanie's and about to be behind with Jacob's. And tomorrow is his birthday. I stress over this so much if I don't have them done because I feel like their childhoods are slipping away with the passing time, memories are going unrecorded and I might forget. So for now I am giving myself permission to hold it on those posts. I will get to them when I get to them because what kind of a mother would I be if I spent more energy writing about our memories than I do making those memories? So there. I just had to say that publicly and now I think I can 'let go' of that obligation for now. It doesn't mean I'm giving it up, it just means I'm loosening my grip on the strict deadline I give myself.

Having two kids is kicking the shit out of me

Lately I've been making a lot of excuses about why I'm late with things, or forgetting other things. My e-mails tend to read, "I've been so busy I can hardly breathe!" What does that mean, exactly?

It means you leave the house with both kids, one on your hip, one who's running to the car (per your instruction) with an armload of waterbottles, you've got a bag slung over each shoulder, baby paraphernalia dangling from the clutches of your teeth, house keys in one hand, the older one's breakfast in the other and your shoes are untied. His breakfast on this day is wheat toast with peanut butter smooshed in a few spots on the surface because you were breastfeeding the baby while making the toast and one hand alone does not a smooth spread make - but on any other day the breakfast is just as likely to be cereal, dry, eaten from the box.

Even though you're running fifteen minutes late you pray for red lights because to catch one would mean you have half a chance of getting to your destination with completed make-up for a change. Should you catch a second red light you might take your hair out of the 'messy-bun' that it's been in since last night and run your fingers through your tangled mane (which you're coming to realize is the new definition for brushing your hair). But you don't push your luck too much by speeding or driving out of control because as it is you're thanking God that everyone with teeth has had them brushed, your four year old can take responsibility for getting himself ready in the morning, you've remembered to properly buckle everyone in, and that the baby is not screaming her guts out - all the while hoping that you really do get so many miles after the gas light flashes empty because it's been on E for two days now.

Luckily you've perfected the art of driving one-handed because your right arm is elbow-deep in your bag, feeling it's way around for something, the identity of which you've already forgotten. Hopefully your fingertips will catch the smooth feel of your cell phone and you'll remember, only to realize it hasn't been charged for days. Since you're in there, you pull out a diaper, and give it a good sniff - if you've been responsible and emptied your bag the night before this should be a fresh one, but if not, it means you've got fermented urine penetrating the smooth skin of your nostrils. By the grace of God your hand locates a clean diaper from the backseat and you stick it in your bag. Throw in a snack, today's activity, an extra bib and you're good to go.

When you arrive, you take a deep breathe, a meager attempt to fortify yourself for the day ahead, and step out of the car. Arms loaded again, you head to the door and as you reach for the handle you think you might be able to keep it together, but then it opens and a wave of chaos hits you. You find the moms, the ones who you know will understand, see their haggard faces and can tell you're all on the same page today. After you've begged a q-tip for the baby's ears from the arts & crafts box, you confess that you haven't brushed your hair since Saturday, you're wearing yesterday's clothes, you can't remember the last time the kids got a bath, and isn't it ironic that it's Health & Hygiene week? Don't worry they say, one of them can't remember when her own last shower was, somebody plain forgot to brush her teeth, and someone else is picking off a bit of smug from her neighbor's shirt. Prolly chicken shit, she mumbles, but it turns out it's only a chicken feather. And by the way, your shoes are still untied.

On this day there is no denying you are one senseless tantrum away from losing it, but sometimes the adrenaline rush, and the subsequent exhilaration from arriving somewhat put together so that it appears you've got your shit in order, is enough to almost make you want to do it all over again the next day.

Beanie's First Day On the Job

Definitely not the highlight of my day

I was at the library today renewing something. Standing in line I had the baby on one hip and Jacob was off to the side looking at some books. When it was my turn the librarian smiled at me holding Sabine and said, "You're going to have two very close together." I didn't understand so I turned to Jacob and then back at her.

"Oh, you mean these two?" I asked, gesturing toward Jacob and Sabine.

"No, you're going (emphasis hers) to have two close together."

And then she pointed at my stomach.

The Night Terrors

I'm killing two birds with one stone here because I'm too tired to write out a whole post updating the night terror issue...this is an excerpt from an e-mail I wrote in response to a friend's e-mail. And here's where I wrote about it two years ago - they'd already been happening for a long time at that point.

Things have been really good! I am happy a lot of the time, but things are also very crazy. I feel like if I could just stop time once in a while I could catch my breath! I am always just one step behind being caught up, you know? And even when I do catch up on things, it all builds back up so quickly. Like the laundry...what's up with all the laundry?? I used to have a 'laundry day' but now it's like what day DON'T I have laundry!

I got a few responses from people about the night terrors. Surprisingly, not that many people said their kids experienced them. I thought it was far more common. Then I finally did some reading up on it, and Jacob fits the definition to a T. I'm just concerned with the frequency of night terrors and the longevity of them. And here's the big thing I learned - sleep deprivation is the biggest trigger of night terrors. Well there you go, we are constantly in a state of sleep-deprivation around here. That makes me feel like a crappy mother that I can't get my kid to sleep at night because we don't have enough self-discipline. We are now teaching him the definition of 'sleep hygiene' and putting it into action. We'll see how long that lasts.

Sabine Smiles

E-mail

From: Xmas
To: My Entire Moms Group
Time: 3am


Hey Guys,

I'm calling on you all again for your mother-wisdom, hoping to appeal to the inner psychologist in you. Not sure if I'm making sense, I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open...in other words, help! Does this sound like a night terror?

Jacob wakes up (I think he is awake?) in the middle of the night and you know that scene from Dumb & Dumber where Jim Carey is all "wanna hear the world's most annoying noise? eeeeeennnnnnn!!!" Imagine that sound...not really crying, but almost like moaning. Well Jacob makes a sound like that, he kicks his legs around, trashes at us if we try to comfort him. We can't bring him out of it no matter we do, on a rare occasion can we actually get him to answer us. Tonight when questioned what's wrong, he said "I wanna play with it...." and then trailed off. That's the most frustrating part because we're so close to getting what feels like the solution to this whole problem but are left wondering what "it" is.

This will last for 20 minutes or more (no exaggeration) and eventually he tires himself out. He never remembers it in the morning. He's been getting these bursts since he was 2. It hasn't let up. When he was younger I decided it was restless leg syndrome because he usually always kicks his legs around uncomfortably. I still think he has RLS, but this can't be only that. It happens almost every night now. We're tired and can't function during the day. The doctor's office of course can't see us for his 5 year check-up until December and I just can't wait for an answer until then.

I know night terrors are extremely common among kids this age, but do they last this long - in years and in length of episode?? Do your kids have night terrors? When will it stop, what can I do to help him and is it normal?

THANKS for you ears.

Stacey

Back to the real world

When we left Camp yesterday I said to Zach, "Welp, it's back to the real world now..." with more than a little disappointment. And today was a doozie of a first day back. Almost like culture shock. I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get a million little odds and ends taken care of. I ran into roadblocks at every turn. Zach had the same kind of day, but then again, most of his work days are like that now. He can't wait to get out of the rat race and go into business for himself.

We had an awesome time at Camp, as always. The end of the season is so sad because we know it will be at least half a year until we can go again. And there's no place like Camp. To sum up our extended weekend:

Jacob wore nothing but his Carhartt "work" clothes or pajamas the entire weekend, except for the brief period where we went hiking and he changed into some more appropriate clothes. This kid loves his work clothes. He puts them on first thing in the morning and gives you a fight any time he has to take them off.
Sabine was basically held by someone the whole time we were at Camp. My sister was there ans she loves to hold her. Then there was my mom and Jamie, and even Marisa held her. It was so nice for her to be in close contact with another person round the clock like that. You can tell she's just so happy to be with people because on days like that she doesn't cry or fuss at all. We really can't get over how happy-go-lucky she is.

Zach and I got a huge wake-up call by the end of the weekend. We each went running on Saturday and then hiking on Sunday, each with a kid in a pack. Normally this kind of activity would not be a big deal, but we realized how much having two kids has kicked our asses. Maybe compared to the average person we're in pretty good shape, but nowhere near our high standards. We both have a long way to go to get back into shape. It was a pretty humbling weekend...

things before we leave...

We're leaving for Camp in a bit for our last trip of the season. I always get going crazy tying up loose ends at the last minute because I hate to leave town with things unfinished. My mind is racing right now, and here's what I'm thinking:

When they talk about the 'pitter-patter of little feet', this is not something to look forward to. It is not a sweet little tramping around of darling little children. It is your four year old going about the day with the inability to move in any sort of direction without stomping his feet, jumping off of his location, jumping onto his destination, pounding little limbs everywhere he goes. It is painful to the ears and bad for one's blood pressure. He also yells, sings or squeals all of the words that come out of his mouth. All we do is tell Jacob to stp screaming, stop running, stop doing whatever. I feel bad because it's like we're telling him he can't be himself. I said to Zach, "He's out own kid, we're supposed to think that stuff is cute, why can't we stand him lately?" The only answer Zach can give me is that it's because he does it all the time without ceasing. And I don't really know how to fix that.

We finally have a video camera to tape all the cute (annoying) stuff Jacob does, but the problem is you can't catch any of that stuff when you want to. Jacob will be doing something I want to capture and I get the video camera out...five seconds go by before he realizes that you're taking him and instead of being normal, he acts like a doofus. It's like the Hawthorn Effect.

Also, can anyone say 'Ham'?

Ohh...Burn!

We have lots of verbal sparring in my house. Jacob gets carried away with it, and since I'm the mother and I'm older and smarter, I always win. Jacob just can't stand to not have the last word though. So lately his last ditch effort at having the final say is, "I'm gonna call the aplice (police).

Tonight he's mad that Benny the Dog might be coming up to Camp this weekend. Nobody really likes Benny on account of the three P's (peeing, pooping and puking in the house), plus he really smells and is annoying. So Jacob's telling me that Benny can't come because his goats are coming up to Camp this weekend and they'll fight with Benny, they might even kick him.

"Well you're just going to have to leave the goats at home this weekend," I tell him.

"No, they need lots of attention!" he insists.

"Then maybe you'll have to stay at home with the goats and not go to Camp!" I say.

"Fine! But I'm gonna call the aplice and they're gonna throw Benny in the woods!"

Baptizetism

...Or so Jacob calls it. Sabine was Baptized on Sunday the 28th. I'm so busy that it's taken me over a week to post one simple picture about it. Thank God my cousin was there so someone could take pictures. This is my favorite picture from that day. I was so out of it. It was really hot in there, I was going on three hours of sleep, and this was at the end when I'd just gotten the baby back and was soothing her to sleep. But this is how it is with Beanie - I'm so overtaken with my love for her that all I can do is gaze at her in astonishment while the rest of the world passes by. I don't think I was even aware a candle was being lit and apparently the thing to do was watch the candle being lit...

Dear Jacob: September 2008

Dear Jacob,

Just now I was downstairs doing my usual late-night picking up and I found your Bob bag filled to bursting. I opened it, and inside I found the stash of kitchen towels. I was just remarking a couple days ago that I seemed to be running very low on dish towels. I should have known it was you. I can't be mad though because these are the things I'll miss when you're older. You make me laugh, you make life interesting, and you always keep me on my toes.

Quirky. That is the word for you. Everything you do is full of quirkiness. Tonight you informed me that the bookshelf I just moved into your room will have to go because that's the spot the pigs are going to have their pen. Earlier you swore there were chicks in your room and they were pooping on everything. Sometimes you'll be in the middle of an activity only to drop what you're doing, put on some shoes and head out back to feed the animals. One day the horse got out and was wandering in Stella's field. On any given day we can expect a shipment of some kind of farm animal, lumber to build something for them to live in, or even just more feed.

When it's not farm fantasy, it's of course Spud, or one of the Bob gang. But lately (well since your trip to Yankee Stadium) it's been Jeter. Jeter, just like that. As if you're best buds with him. Marisa was over the other day when you asked me to get two baseball gloves and a ball. I brought them out to you and when Marisa went for a glove you snatched it away. "No! That's for Jeter. We're going to play some catch." Then you proceeded to throw the ball across the yard and play fetch with yourself for the next 15 minutes. Later on you ran up to the fence and yelled through it "Hey Derek! Yo, Jeter, over here!" and had a conversation with him.

And when you're not hallucinating, you're causing trouble all of your own accord. Last week you did it to me again with the water. I was brushing my teeth and went to rinse. No water. At first I panicked and thought that the well had run dry, then I realized who I was dealing with. I stomped downstairs and demanded you turn the water back on. As you got under the sink to deal with the pipes I bent low behind you to see just how you were doing it. I tried not to let on that I was making you fix it because I didn't know how, but rather that it was your punishment for turning off the water to the faucet. Actually, that day you had turned off every faucet in the house. What other four year old has the foresight to go around shutting off all the faucets in the house just to play a joke on his mother?

You're still quite the little homemaker. As I type this there is a tall pile of hand towels folded perfectly and set atop the railing so they can make their way downstairs. That was all you...I didn't even ask you to do that. This past month you've been working on learning to make the coffee. Right now you do most of the parts and I'm just there to supervise. I expect pretty soon I'll be able to take my coffee in bed because you'll be bringing it to me!

In addition to the extra responsibility you're bestowing upon yourself, you are taking liberties Daddy and I are not so pleased with. You like to give out little orders or ultimatums. "If I have to take a shower, I won't get in. If I take a bath, I will." And most of the time they don't really even make sense so it is very funny when you try to threaten us like this. Sometimes they're just sorry attempts to get your way. "If you don't let me do ____, I'll cry/be mad at you/take away a privilege (of mine)."; "OK, send me to my room," I reply.

You're also doing cute little things like walking around the house in patterns. You can walk on certain parts of the floor and not others. You can step on some colors in the carpet, but not others. Sometimes I'll catch you hiding under the table with a little treat that you have snuck. Sometimes you'll be under there with something that is perfectly fine with me, you just feel like hiding and pretending you're doing something you're not supposed to do.

And then there's the talking. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. All. Day. Long. You talk about Spud, Jeter, the farm animals, Farmer Pickles and what he needs you to fix up on the farm. You talk about what time the materials are being delivered, what so-and-so did at the park, what so-and-so said at Playschool. Speaking of Playschool, you love it. You are a leader there, not shy and a loner like in other situations. It's cool to see that side of you, to know you have a part of yourself that can get along in a group and still be your own person. But the talking...it never ends. I have to tune out half of what you say these days. But something tells me you don't much care whether I'm listening or not. It's just being together that still makes us happy.

Today is my birthday - I'd better get to bed so I can be rested enough to enjoy it! But maybe in the morning you'll bring me some coffee in bed and tell me some more about the race horses and the funny thing they did the other day. I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday.

The New Kid in Town

This is Smitty. I prefer to call him Schmitty. Smitty can't really talk, so he can't tell me the origin of his name. Bummer, cuz it's an interesting one. Anyway, he hitched a ride home in Jacob's carseat the night they were at Yankee Stadium. I guess he was tired of living in the city. Either that or he was afraid of being being crushed when they tear down The Stadium (Zach tells me you must capitalize this) and sought refuge in the country.

I wasn't convinced we needed another dog in the house, so I actively tried to 'escort' Schmitty to the curb via the garbage can, but Jacob successfully petitioned his acceptance into the house by insiting on letting Schmitty come everywhere with us that I finally just got used to him. We've decided to let him stay. He and Pilchard immediately hit it off because they have a common interest (see attire below). Jacob even let Schmitty wear his mini Yankees hat (backwards of course). The rest of the gang is gradually getting used to him and I expect one day very soon Baby Tigger, Little Bear and Moosey will all come to love the little guy just as Jacob does.


T