A Fair Trade

It's raining outside. Apparently, it's rained here for 40 days. I don't mind, I find it calming. Whenever it rains I feel calm, at peace, and connected. So I suppose that means I've been 'connected' for 40 days. I love the transitive property...

It seems that the rain allows you just to think. It keeps you from going here and there, doing chores outside of the house, and having a jam-packed schedule full of this and that. It reminds of winter and thus I love it. I do not appreciate the summer. Most people love the summer. It reminds them of life and relate it to all of the good things that it's all about. Spring is usually a close second. Many people find autumn depressing, a sign of the death and decay to come. Maybe they see it as a metaphor for life. And then winter is the ultimate chill. They find there is no reason to experience it when all things around them that were once bright, fragrant, and full of life are now dead, or at least in hibernation. 

But I'm a different breed. I guess I'm a bit of an introvert; I love to be introspective. Most people would say the opposite of me: I'm extroverted, loud, and egotistical. The extroversion is a cover, the loudness is to hide the desire for quiet and the ego is simply misunderstood. I can find my roots in the quiet, in the hibernation, in the peace. The music that once ruled my life can by played, the quiet sounds of the piano will come to life, and my passions fill my head and my soul. I suppose this means that in the quiet, in the 'dead', I find life. 

I've never much cared for a room full of people talking over each other. What is often mistaken for being agreeable, is really just me wanting 'the quiet'. I have always had a hard time revealing myself to others. Often I will beat myself up in my solitude for saying exactly the opposite of how I actually feel. The only person I trust with me, is well, myself. I trust Bobby 98% with me, but I still think that there might be 2% that would disgust him. But every person needs just a little, tiny corner of themselves that they keep for themselves. 

There is too much in my head. And by this, I don't mean smarts. There is so much to think about, how will I ever find the time to sort it all out? I have always felt so...   different. I constantly wonder what other people think. Do they do the same as I do? Do they talk loudly in public only to go home and be themselves? Do their hearts race when they smell something that takes them to another time? Do their passions return when they hear a certain sound? Do they feel the ever-increasing desire to be so desperately close to someone else even though they already are? I don't know, I suppose that's for them to keep to themselves. I could get lost in my own thoughts for hours. 

But now I have to share. It's my responsibility to share all of this with my children. Teach them the way that I am, who I am, why I am. Lately I've been thinking about how people irreversibly change once they have children. But why? Why can't we just grow who we already are? What's so wrong with who we were before? Can't we just expand and perfect what's there already? I intend to do this. Success is another thing. If my children understand me and know me, I hope that they don't feel lost. If their mother bares her soul they will know that they can do the same. Perhaps I will have to let go of the quiet for I don't think I will ever again truly have it. That's okay with me; I'll be getting plenty in exchange. 

Happy 4 Months Benjamin and Kyle!

I simply can't believe it, but my boys have hit the four month mark and this very day! So let's celebrate this by a brief history of my boys thus far. 

My boys were born at thirty-eight weeks and 3 days. Every day leading up to that, I was convinced that I would deliver far before that mark. The fact that they were born in a normal timeframe for a term pregnancy assured us that they would come into this world without problems. It was such a relief and such a blessing. Of course, they were smaller than the average baby born at term, but that was more related to them being twins and not having a ton of room in the womb than a singleton. When they born, they looked exactly alike and the only way I could tell them apart was the color of their hats. I made sure every day that they were wearing "their hat". Kyle wore the blue knit cap from the hospital and Ben wore the striped cotton hat also from the hospital. All of the hats that we had bought were far too big on their little heads. When I look at the pictures of them from the first few days of their lives, I am in disbelief at how small they were even in this short time since then. Since they were a bit small, their clothes were far too big and they always had to be in their hats to keep their body temperature normal. They would only eat 15mL of milk at every feeding. That's 8% of what they eat now! They were getting breast milk at each feeding since I was determined to pump at every feeding. They wouldn't breastfeed; every time we tried (and we tried every time they ate) they couldn't latch properly and would end up screaming because they were hungry. Perhaps I gave up too soon, but I hated to hear my babies cry in distress. Feedings took such a long time, even though the amounts were so small. I would try to breastfeed, then give them a bottle and then pump. It took 45 minutes for each feeding and they were eating every two hours! You can imagine how tiring this all was.

Eventually we gave up trying to breastfeed and just pumped exclusively. You have to remember, you have to do this even during all of the night feedings to try and increase your supply. Just a short four months ago, they were waking up every two hours. I think Bobby and I got an average of  two hours of sleep a night. Amazingly, I didn't nap during the day. I think that my hormones just took over and my maternal instinct told me this was all okay and I would make it through. However, I would go back to bed with them until about nine o'clock. 

I was focused on dressing them alike every day. Now, it's just simply not as important in my eyes. They were born at around six pounds and by their two month mark they were both eleven pounds! Glad I don't double my weight every two months!

It was amazing to see how fast they develop both socially and motor-skill wise. I felt like they learned something new every day. When they started to have social smiles, it truly was wonderful. My babies were appreciating my face and knew that I was the one taking care of them. I believe it made Bobby just so happy, knowing that they loved us and relished in seeing him at the end of his workday. They started gaining weight differently, so this really helped in telling them apart. Now I hardly ever confuse them. Kyle immediately gained weight in his cheeks and Benjamin kept lean. They both lost their hair and their eyes started to lighten to a fantastic blue, just like their Daddy. 

Their hair started growing back and I was relieved that they weren't born with their grandfather's hairline (at least not yet). They rolled onto their backs fairly early around the 2.5 month mark. Now I started to fear every time I laid them down that they would roll and hit the floor. Nothing is more nagging than that constant paranoia. I didn't want to be the mother that dropped her baby, but I have a feeling it will happen one day as it does with most parents. They gained control of their bobbly heads and would look straight into your eyes while holding them. They see you and kick their little legs with glee. 

Eventually when you put them down on their bellies, they would lift their upper bodies up peering around the room. They started to grab at rattles and things that made noise, beginning to understand cause and effect. They also started to develop different characters. Benjamin is sweet and usually calm while Kyle is boisterous and a comedian. 

They both love music and enjoy both their musical toys and when I play the piano for them. I try to give them a 'music lesson' every day and play classical music for them. My Nanny always insisted that playing the piano would make me good at math and I really can't argue with that, I graduated with a math degree... although I'm pretty sure that was just her way of bribing me into practicing. They're the only people who seem to like to hear me play anymore, so of course this is a huge ego boost for me. 

We try to do something fun once a week with them and get them outside of the house as much as possible. They love flowers and really like going for walks. They've started to enjoy inspecting all that's around them. They've started to sleep through the night, going to bed early and rising early. This new development is great for Mom and Dad since it gives us the opportunity to decompress each day. 

I expect that when we go to our next doctor appointment we will have gained another 4 pounds or so. When I carry them both now it feels like a small workout (which is good, I need it). Speaking of baby workouts, I confess I try to double up and use them as my weightlifting. I put them up over my head and do reps with them. They love it and I get to work out my flabby pregnancy arms. 

They also enjoy reading the newspaper. Since I don't have a lot of time to sit down and read the paper these days, I decided to kill two birds with one stone (keep in mind, I would never start stoning birds). I read them the paper aloud each day. They enjoy the Wall Street journal and find the GM bankruptcy hilarious. That's good, they're probably the only two people in the entire US who feels that way. 

They're also quite the gabbers. They're "oos" and "ahhs" are a joy to listen to. This particular week, they're a bit cranky. They've been refusing their naps and just want to be awake and experience everything around them. This causes periods of crying for not much reason and a bit of a struggle at bedtime. But I can't complain, as newborns they were so easy to put down to sleep. 

It's incredible to think that this next month, they may start cutting teeth and will probably start a few solids. They have changed our lives profoundly and we're just so blessed to have the miracle of them. I was so scared initially, but everything has calmed me down and proven to me that I should have more confidence. They make it easy for me, I haven't had feeding problems or excessive crying problems. The only complaint I have is that I wish I could hold them more and cherish every last moment. I'm sure most mothers feel that way. 

Happy 4 months to my sweet babies!

The Mental Breakdown.

I confess, I've never been what people would call a 'balanced' individual. That's part of my charm, I can be placid as a babbling brook, violent as a raging tornado, or as peppy as an annoyingly cute cheerleader (enough with the terrible metaphors). This is why people go between loving me and hating me, which always makes for an interesting time. Since I generally don't believe in psycho babble (another quaint trait of mine, I form strangely strong opinions of things without being educated on the topic ... I think that's called ignorance) I've always tried to iron these things out on my own. Hey, people like me more for it, right? 

I'm sure most of my family and friends were dreading the upcoming months once I announced I was pregnant. Tammy, on hormones?! Much to their pleasant surprise, pregnancy evened me out beautifully. Things didn't bother me, I wasn't stressed (mostly) and I was more often than not a rosy cheeked, smiling young mom-to-be. 

And then I gave birth. I now know why hormone replacement therapy is considered essential in most cases after menopause. The first week after their birth, I was a sappy, easily saddened person. I chalked that up to normal, postpartum hormone raging. After that, one week I would be a doll, and the next your worst nightmare. Forget bridezillas, they should coin the term mommyzilla. Bobby put up with this quite well. There was a lot of, "Yes, dear". On a few occasions, bless his heart, he spoke up and told me that maybe I wanted to tone it down. No, I like talking about my feelings. I like talking about what makes me pissed. I like yelling about how nothing goes the way I planned. Why doesn't anybody respect my plan? You get the picture.

So let's fast-forward to this month. My license has been temporarily taken away because of my epilepsy, so I've been confined to the home. This is not something to do to a woman who is mostly irrational. Last week I spent an astounding six days without leaving the home. I am normally the type of person you likes to be constantly going. While the occasional lazy day is always appreciated, I'd rather be out and about doing this and that. I get to go running with my mother-in-law once a week for an hour and a half. Thank God for that. 

I didn't realize how bad this was all getting until yesterday. Bobby went to the doctor and told me he was thinking he would like to get a gym membership and start working out. So, instead of being a good wife and telling him what a great idea that was, I instead grilled him. So when are you planning on doing this? Don't I ever get to do something outside of the house? You know, I would LOVE to go work out. But I guess I won't ever be able to. I guess I'll just get the babies ready every morning. Yes, you could actually see the horns growing from my head. And then, in true Tammy fashion, after telling him I don't have an attitude, I start crying. The violins were playing and the party was started with the pity cake being placed in the middle of the table. 

I somehow take the situation from my poor hubby just wanting to do something good for himself to an entire rant and rave about me. It's amazing he started dating me, let alone was brave enough to marry me. After this long conversation in which he was talking me off the ledge, telling me I could get a gym membership, too and we'd just take shifts (which, of course, every generous offer he gave me I gave a reason how that just simply wouldn't work), I shut up and turned into placid Tammy. Apparently, being confined to the house has worn on me. Being a new mom is tough, I will concede (although you know I wouldn't want to admit that in public), but being trapped in the house is a whole other battle. I've gone through that before and didn't want it to happen again. While I do need an outlet (obviously), I need to realize that other people exist. They have their own needs and wants. I am not the only person whose life has changed. The boys have a father, and he needs his time as well. There is this wonderful word which I generally forget about ... I think it's compromise. I need to compromise on my plan. The militant dictator needs to sit down and the sweet, democratic Tammy needs to rise. 

Now, my congress just needs to vote on my policies. 

Approaching the 4 month Mark ..

I'm happy to report that we are sleeping through the night. About two weeks ago, Bobby and I decided that we would have to cut the cord and send them off to their nursery. I have agonized over this since they were born, mostly because they just made me feel safe being in our room (that, and I didn't have to walk very far when they screamed in the middle of the night). We split them up, one in each crib, and tip-toed out of the room. While I was wiping away tears that they were so big (yes, a whole three months old ... pathetic mommy), we realized that they were not crying for us. Perhaps this whole time they were annoyed by us. Maybe they really hated having to hear us snore and roll over in the middle of the night. They have now started to sleep from nine to six. Don't call it a pattern.

Throughout this, I've started to ease back into work. I'm doing this from home, which may sound easy but surely isn't. It was really a decision based on economics, so it works the best for us. The first day I decided to do some work, I set up my laptop, my adding machine, all of my papers, a cup of coffee and was set to work. Until about five minutes later when someone screamed to be fed. And then the other one. And then they were awake and were fairly mad Mom thought it would be a good idea to sleep again. So my work sat there while I did the important job: Mom. When Bobby leaves in the morning, the day becomes a whirlwind. I instantly go to the kitchen, wash all of the bottles, wipe down the kitchen as I'm incredibly paranoid that malaria may be incubating somewhere, make my coffee, clean up my coffee table, and check on the babies. I take an hour break there while the babies nap to catch up on my guilty pleasure: the internet. After that it's feedings, cleaning, work, feedings, diapers, dogs, gardening .... and sometimes I get to go to the bathroom (although, quite honestly I forget about it). 

I think I've said this before, but before the boys were born I very optimistically thought that I could do it all. I wasn't so far off, I can do most of it, maybe subpar. While I often wish I had done more or fit in something else, I am overall satisfied with my abilities at this point. I will not beat myself up, I will not self deprecate. Oddly enough, when I do my work, it doesn't stress me out. It actually feels like a vice I'm able to indulge in. Remember that bad relationship? It still works like that. When others aren't watching (my babies) I phone up that bad boy (my work) and go spend a few thrilling hours with him. He still finds me attractive and knows I'm such a sucker.  

On a completely self-centered note, I've decided to start a diet. A diet. Did you ever notice that the word "die" makes up three quarters of that hideous word? Not only is this diet insulting my tastes for food, but it is also insulting my pocketbook. No wonder half of America is overweight, it's actually cheaper to eat like a pig (which is incredibly counter-intuitive). But I'm optimistic, looking forward to this with glee. In two months I will be Giselle Bundchen. I will be walking down the beach in my bikini with my two little boys, and agents and photographers alike will flock to me asking, "Please, come work with us!" to which I will say, "I am just simply too busy". And then I wake up ...

I was going through my closet, desperately trying to find something that fit and I picked up a pair of jeans I wore three years ago. They were a size 6. I don't even now what inspired me to try and put these on, I knew it would be a failing battle, but I did anyway. I couldn't even get them over my hips. The sad thing is, when I was this size 6 (which I doubt I ever will be again), I didn't even appreciate it. I always thought I was too big; something could change here or there. I want to go back in time and smack that girl! 

But enough about me, let's talk about something so much better. Benjamin and Kyle are changing every day. They amaze me with their budding personalities and baby wit. Benjamin certainly has his father's personality: he's independent, reserved, and even cries softly. While Kyle has mine, or as my wonderful husband put it, "he's loud, funny, and obnoxious". Hmm ... 

Ben smiles sweetly and you just know his little heart is filled with love for you. He could sit and lay with you all day and never fuss about it. He's always talking about something, usually a 'girrrl'. And then there's the rolling. I try so hard to give them enough 'tummy time', but my Ben just flips over as soon as I put him down. He finds his tummy insufferable and will not stand for it. As soon as he rolls over, he smiles with glee and you can tell he's very proud of himself. 

Kyle is a little comedian. He's smiles wide and then bashes his head down, as if he's waiting for your response. He also demands that you entertain him at all times. He will not tolerate just 'sitting'. You better be singing, talking, or doing something for this child. 

Twins also talk to each other, even as young as they are. When faced with each other, they babble on and on and gaze lovingly at each other. Or they hit each other in the face. It is amazing how they always seem to be holding on to each other. It almost makes you jealous. There are so few people (excluding twins) who are born into this world with such an immediate connection to someone else. They will always have each other and since they're genetically identical, I'm assuming they'll be able to deeply know each other. It will be a true test of nature over nurture, which I confess I wonder about all of the time. Because of my already preconceived notions on who they are, I already am parenting them differently. I worry about this constantly, but I just can't stop myself. I'm sure parenting experts (is there such a thing?) would love to tell me exactly what I'm doing wrong, but I think I'll just let it play out naturally.

And now I must go because the morning nap is done.