On the Verge

I'm writing this on Saturday the 16th of October, but I don't plan to publish it until at least the evening of Monday the 18th, because that's when Ryan will be home. My blog is a little too public to announce to the world that I'm home alone with the kids for an entire week without the the protection of my big, former football player husband. I will say, however, that I'm an armed citizen and we have an alarm system, so breaking in while the man's away is still is a very bad idea for you, if you were thinking about it. To quote the country song, "Our homes are protected by the good Lord and a gun. You might meet 'em both if you show up here unwelcome, son." Heh. 

Ryan is in South Dakota. (Or he was, when I wrote this.) He's been there since Monday, and he's gone a full week. Up until today, it's been okay. We've had visitors or play dates or something to help the days go by. I even had this amazing "my kids are incredible" moment a couple days ago that took my breath away. But today, Saturday, I'm kind of on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The real problem is that Neva was up 3 time last night, so I'm exhausted. I have not had a single moment where the toddler, the baby and the dog have been w/out need at the same time. So I haven't gotten a nap to make up for the complete lack of sleep last night. I have had more than one moment today where I've considered locking myself in my room and letting the kids and the dog run the house, Lord of the Flies style. It's been a rough day.

Tomorrow, one of my favorite people on the planet is coming to visit us. Tomorrow will be great. Today, however, is slightly less than fantastic.

Twins

I'm a twin. My friends and family know that, of course, but you may not. I've lived a large amount of my life being called by a different name, writing fiction about characters in an identity crisis, and running away from just about anything that associates me with a group instead of as an individual. So you can imagine my shock when I gave birth to seemingly the same child twice, once as a boy and 2 1/2 years later as a girl. I'm not crazy! Look:



This is Wyatt when he was Neva's age.




Neva, today.

 
Do you see what I mean? They're  like little clones of each other, only one is male and the other is female. I'm very curious to see how it all pans out when they're older. Will Neva have to keep her hair long and wear skirts in order not to be confused with her older brother? I hope not. I foresee broad shoulders and an overall NFL-style physique for my man child. If my daughter is even remotely as large, I'm sure she'll never forgive us for passing on those genes. :)

Twins. Poor kids. Blimey.

Oh, I Get It; I Don't Get It

It's amazing how many things in life we think we understand. I took a class in college about office politics. It had a different, more academic name with numbers behind it, but you get the idea. I got an A in that class, so naturally, I assumed that meant I understood the workings of people in corporate America. Then, I got my first corporate job and realized how different theoretical knowledge is to practical knowledge. People have these crazy things called differences and personalities. Yes, even in corporate America. People are rarely textbook anything.

The same can be said for all aspects of parenthood. Again, obvious perhaps in theory, but I didn't really get it until these little munchkins entered my world. I had baby and kid knowledge, theoretically, from having nieces and nephews, from rooming with a post-partum doula, and from working nanny jobs while I was in grad school. I think I even referred to myself as somewhat of a "baby expert" to a new mom once. Cringe. What was I thinking? I guess it's true what they say: "You never know what you don't know." Here's the thing: caring for children is not the same thing as raising them. At all. I wish I'd known before I had kids, to just bow out gracefully instead of thinking I had expertise because of a class or a job or extended family.

I also didn't fully understand how different each and every child is until I had more than one. Yes, I'd heard that. I "knew" that. But I didn't really know it. I still half expected baby number two to respond in a similar way to things as baby number one. I mean, once you get a baby figured out, you just apply the same expert principles, right? Ha. Well, not exactly. Big picture principles, maybe. But small things can make a huge difference. Wyatt loved his pacifier. By about 3 months old, it was an easy sleep cue. Neva doesn't really take one at all. Wyatt had reflux. He drenched burp cloths hourly. Neva has pretty dainty spit-ups. Wyatt took to supplemental bottles with ease. Neva also takes a bottle when needed, but it can take her up to five minutes to reacquaint herself with the bottle's nipple before she really starts drinking. Before I was a mom, I wouldn't have understood how these little differences can affect so much about the way a day can go!

Here are my promises to you. I really hope I can keep them. I promise never to claim expertise on anything until I have practical, not just theoretical, knowledge. This includes any opinions I may have formed about parenting three or more kids. I now understand that I don't have a clue what that's like. I also promise not to assume that if something that worked for my kid doesn't work for yours, that it's not because you're doing it wrong. I now understand that it's because it's a different child. I promise not to assume that my advice is the best advice for everyone, and I will never ever ever assume that reading something in a textbook or forum or even a medical journal makes it absolute truth.

So I finally get it; I don't get it. And that's totally okay. Got it?

Get That Kid Some Schoolin'!

What kind of mother forgets to bring a camera (or even her phone) with her when taking her baby boy to his first day of preschool? This kind, apparently. To be fair, it was my first time, too. I was frazzled, because I didn't want him to be late. He ate his breakfast in slow motion. So did his baby sister, who I actually had to wake up to feed. We pretty much ran out the door. Now, Ryan would call these excuses, but I simply call them facts. That's just how the morning went down. We'll get practice every Tuesday and Thursday. We'll get there. :)

I didn't really know what to expect when I went to drop him off. Would he cry? Would I? The answer to both questions is no. He reluctantly kissed me goodbye, met a little boy who said "hi" to him, smiled and took off to play. I was a little sad, I guess, but it didn't kill me. More than anything, I was just curious about what he'd be up to for 4-4 1/2 hours without me. I kind of wanted to spy on him. See if he's a sweetheart or a bully. A genius or the class clown. But instead, I went to Starbucks for a Pumpkin Spice Latte and then to Target for some essentials. It was amazingly easy to run minor errands with just Neva. Then we went home and I did housework. I pretty much blinked and it was time to pick him up.

Wyatt is one of the only Tuesday/Thursday kids who only does half days. So, when I went to pick him up, pretty much his entire class was down for nap time. He was sitting nicely inside the door, waiting for me with his teacher. (I wonder what he thought when all the other kids had to take a nap and he didn't. Probably just that the world revolves around him, so why would he have to nap, anyway, haha.) The teacher said he did really well. He got along with the other kids. Was pretty interactive with the teacher, and only cried once for his mommy. It was right before lunch, and the arrival of food made it all better. (He's already drowning his sorrows in food! Time to get him a therapist, heh.) We drove home, where Wyatt did, in fact, have to take a nap. Because that's how we roll.

I feel good. I think we're all going to benefit from Wyatt's new occupation as a student. I hope he likes learning for a living. He's going to be doing it for at least the next 16 years.

Morning Person 101

I am not, by all natural standards, a morning person. If there were no other forces pulling me toward sunrise, I would stay up late every night and sleep until well into the day. But a funny thing happened sometime between scheduling my college classes after 10am and now. First, a job where I actually got to write for a living had me on the freeway by 6:30am to beat downtown LA traffic. Then, I married an amazing, hard-working man who gets up at 5:45. Now, my house is full of little munchkins who're morning people just like their daddy. And so, by circumstances and plain old true love, I have been forced into the role of a morning person.



Speaking of smiling kids...

 Here's the thing, though: I actually like it. Not to mess up my raging night owl rep or anything, but it's starting to grow on me. Did you know that kids smile more in the morning? That coffee tastes its absolute best before 7am? That even on a triple digit furnace of a day, you can open your windows in the morning and feel a cool breeze? Yeah, I didn't know that either until the crazy morning people in my life took over. It's not so bad, really. In fact, it's quickly becoming my favorite part of the day.

Well, except for when the stars align and I actually get to sleep in. On those wonderous days, you can forget everything I just said.