Tag: raising twins

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Kindergarten is the Big Day with Kellogg’s Frosted Mini Wheats

This post is brought to you by Kellogg’s Frosted Mini Wheats. All opinions are my own.kelloggs, cereal, kindergarten

All winter parents were longing for the dog days of summer to arrive. When the day finally came for the kids to depart from the crayons, pencils and elementary learning’s, groaning ensued once more from parents counting the days until school resumed. This year our fish family ventured into a new era as the twins had their first big day celebrating their fifth birthday and we counted our days all summer until the little squids had their first day of kindergarten.

What better way to start the BIG DAY right but with the most important meal of the day, breakfast! My three fish kids started their morning off with a bowl of Kellogg’s Frosted Mini Wheats with skim milk. Although my daughter will secretly confess she prefers hers without milk at times. Frosted Mini Wheats has eight layers of whole grain fiber to help kids feel full and focused to conquer their first BIG DAY.

Karie Herring, five fish, kindergarten, twinsNot only were the twins beginning their education adventure but they were enrolling in a new school environment. We helped to prepare them by doing some of the following to make that first BIG DAY less hectic and reduce their anxiety:

  • Chose their own clothes and shoes for the school year
  • Picked out their own school supplies
  • Showed excitement for picking out backpacks
  • Let them choose their own lunch pails
  • Stress free excitement (from parents)

As parents we often forget the last step in helping our children to tackle their BIG DAY is to show lots of positive reinforcement and excitement and pocket all the stress. Not only are our kids anxious and a little stressed but so are the parents. Remember that everyday can be a BIG DAY with tests, activities and the like for our kids when school is in session. We can help them overcome any fears and anxiety with lots of simple fun, excitement, and always focus on the positive.

Did your kids have a BIG DAY this year when returning to school? Any major milestones like my twins entering kindergarten? For more BIG DAY success stories, tips, and ideas visit: http://www.scholastic.com/pcbigday/

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The Stay at Home Dad – Manny or Daddy

dad, daddy, raising kids

stay at home dad, man, husband, chad herringOur current economic atmosphere has evolved a new breed of a stay at home parent. Formerly mothers were the primary care givers in the home and the most likely proponent to attend PTO meetings, running the kids to sports activities, and doing the household upkeep. Homes used to be comprised of a working father and stay at home mother, very a-typical, very “Cleaver-esque,” very reminiscent of our grandparents, possibly our parents of the baby-boomer era. The idolization of the American dream of a stay at home parent to raise our children and the other parent in the workforce, “bringing home the bacon.” However, as aforementioned, the weather has shifted and as a society, more and more dads are in the home world heading up the household at her core. Now mom is the one who is bringing home, and sometimes, frying up the bacon too.

Yet how much credit is afforded to these men who collide head on with the “stay at home” job? Men are men, and they do not have the same nurturing and caring as women do who often take to the stay at home career much more gracefully. Not to say fathers and men cannot be as effective, I am only indicating that the vagina is an upper-hand in the soft touch of caring for a home and family. But again, who is to say that a man cannot keep his hardened parenting style as the brute force in parenting, and carry on a softness and tenderness that emanates greatness in our children.

My husband is one of these men. He is my hero. He was formerly a manny. A slapstick reference to his job by calling himself a male nanny (manny) where he was and is much more than that. Gifted with a layoff leaving him unemployed, we thought to only be temporary, has become a full-time opportunity that has afforded him time with our children that fathers are not often privileged to experience. He wakes with them in the morning, they ask for him at bed for good-night story time, and they are all different people, The Chad included, because of the power of daddy. Many men “claim” to be a stay at home dad, where mom works in the home and dad happens to stay at home and claim to be a care taker, but really he is a glorified babysitter, not a true parent, not a true parental caregiver, nurturer. I say that very cavalier because these men are aware they lack the nurturing gift of fatherhood, a gift and art learned only through precious time spent with their children. Face it, most dads fumble with the kids only because mom comes in and takes over, rules the roost, puts out any fires and calms all the storms. Moms have only learned this by experience, gifted again with precious time with the children, the nurturing that begins from womb to breast as we hold our babes tightly. Men have a different experience and much different than the woman’s, so some detachment can be expected, they do not have 40 weeks of bonding prior to delivery.

stay at home dad, twins, raising kids, parenthoodI say that men fumble because they do, at no fault of their own. I commend any dad who will spend alone time with his children sans mom. Sans a woman of any sorts to jump in with maternal instinct to care and nurture and fix the errors dads should be afforded to make when adventuring through parenthood, fatherhood. Ladies how many times have you bitched, moaned, groaned or carried on because dad served up peanut butter and jelly for dinner and didn’t prepare the three course meal topped with sparkling water in a clear glass tumbler? I have a few small words for you if they have done this – FUCK YOU and of course GET OVER IT. Admittedly you know you have had moments of weakness where a full meal was not served, you have half assed the house keeping, or best yet, you ponied up to hire a housekeeper because “you don’t have the time” or “the energy” or flat out you cannot handle the way your husband handles the housekeeping for you because its not “your way.” I pity you for your coarse and selfish behavior. I pity you for not appreciating a man who is willing to be that bigger man and take on a traditional feminine role for the greater good of the family unit. Given any amount of time men glide through the home calming any household storm, simmering a sibling bickering bout, and giving to his wife with the truest love and affection money cannot buy.

I could not be more blessed and more honored for my husband and all his struggles to take on his role as a true daddy in our house. We will be able to look back on these years and be thankful that each of us was afforded time to be home with our kids and watch them grow in different phases of their lives; no one ever knows how rewarding being a stay at home dad or a stay at home mom job really is until they have done it. We will never regret any sacrifices and or struggles during this time because we gave of ourselves to our children, selflessly and with the utmost love.

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Cupcake Taco Recipe

Crunching for time and on the look out for some tasty bites that I know my kids will enjoy, one of my bosses shared this recipe with me, of which I altered to enjoy in my home that, 1) Saves us money and 2) Saves us time. We love Mexican food and my kids love tacos, then add the love of sweets like cupcakes. Fuse the two and you have cupcake tacos. What is better than the love of cupcakes and the love of tacos to get CUPCAKE TACOS!

These tasty beauty bites are fun and great for the whole family. They require so little time and so little efforts. Made with wonton wrappers that you can find in the produce section or the refrigerated section. All you need is a cupcake pan and the following ingredients to make your cupcake tacos:

taco cupcakes, cupcakes, tacos, recipe

  • Ground Turkey (we use free range organic, but you can use ground chicken or beef)
  • 1 package of Won Ton wrappers or Egg Roll wrappers
  • 1 can refried beans (We used 365 Organic refried beans)
  • Chopped cabbage (or lettuce)
  • Diced tomatoes
  • 1 cup of shredded cheese (mexican mix or Colby Jack and Monterey)

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Brown the meat, add your favorite seasoning for spice and flair. We like chili powder, chipotle powder, cumin, onion powder, sea salt, fresh ground pepper and cilantro. Set the meat aside.

Take your Won Ton wrappers or eggroll wrappers and mold into cupcake dish. If using the Won Ton wrappers use two and alternate the layers. Layer in the meat and your refried beans until full then top with cheese.

Slide into the oven and bake until the wrappers are golden brown and appear crunchy. Serve warm topped with your favorite veggies.

Using the recipe calculator these yield about 200 calories per cupcake and pack quite the punch with 19 grams or protein. Taco cupcakes can be pre-made and stored in the fridge, make a large batch and stash in the freezer. They are a great addition and cost so little to make. For those picky eaters, they are also fun and taste great.

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Clorox2 The Stain Fighter

Recently I ran a post about monster stains in laundry. Having three kids I can attest to LOTS of monster stains. Two toddlers, boy and girl, and an eight year old boy are royalty of mess making. Clothing is made to be an extension of a napkin by all means; swipes of the mouth end up on sleeves, hands are stroked against pant legs or right across the chest of a great shirt, usually their hands are a carrier of some “sauce”. Needless to say stains are not uncommon in our laundry chores.

Shortly after my Monster of a Stain post, my demonic, beautiful and adorable daughter was treated to an organic fruit pop of sorts for dessert. It was strawberry or berry of some sort or it was just a mess of melted fruit pop because it was bright red and pink on her cute zebra print dress. The stain was striking against the black and white print. Her brand new dress I was worried would be stained permanently. Or so I thought.

I read the back of the Clorox2 bottle to see how to pretreat the stain so that I could have some chance to salvage her new dress that her grandmother had recently bought for her. Quite frankly it was adorable too so I was going to be as devastated as she if we could not eliminate the staining beast from the dress.

If you look at the dress it truly seemed as if there was no possible way any pretreatment, soaking, or bleaching could save this cute little dress from the rag bin. But I had faith and hoped for the best with her dress since she absolutely loves her fashion.

So I treated the stain and tossed it in for a wash with like colors. Tossed it in the dryer without inspecting whether the stain had come clean or not, again trying everything not to jinx myself.

The end result is pretty impressive and in no way what I expected by any stretch of the imagination. I pictured a dress with a stain outlined or faded lightly that was now maybe a light shade of orange splashed along the front. Instead I was presented with a dress that was free from color fading which can be experienced in pretreatment and a dress that has no resemblance of it’s former stained glory. No faded outlines of a stain, no remnants at all of a stain, I was ecstatic. My daughter was excited, to see her dress stain free and I was the laundry hero. If only she knew, without the help of Clorox2 and cold water I would have never been able to save the dress from her supping a fruit pop. What are your laundry products for fighting monster stains? Do you trust products like Clorox2? Do you use natural remedies like lemon juice or seltzer?

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A SPONSORED POST ON BEHALF OF CLOROX2,  I WAS COMPENSATED FOR MY TIME BY POSTING THIS INFORMATION AND IN NO WAY WERE MY PERSONAL VIEWS COMPROMISED OR ALTERED.

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The Job of Mom

Sweating profusely and panting I watched the closed captioning for the evening news on Fox while riding the bike at the gym. Wholeheartedly giggling at the headline, “Stay at home mom wars.” You have to be kidding me? Now the media and political genre has picked up on the stay at home plight to discredit these women. Here I thought this was only reserved for those bitches who own blogs, yet work outside of the home and have yet been afforded the opportunity to be an in home caregiver for their own spawn.

I watched as the news was delivered, the debates about a certain journalist vomiting of her mouth about how a political game players wife should not be any authority of business decisions and current economic policy because she has never worked a day in her life. Further I giggled that these deplorably, over-educated, imbeciles rattled and spouted off about scenarios they themselves have yet to encounter in their lifetime. Highly entertaining news television for my evening workout as I peddled even more fervently to their idiocy. Women who have not struggled financially, personally in the job and role of motherhood, and who never stayed home a day in their life with their children without “hired help.”

You see I laugh because I have worked in both jobs as a mom, stay at home and work outside the home mom.

My eldest son was the ripe age of seven weeks when I enrolled him into a child care facility while I returned to work. My first week was heart wrenching as I cried each morning as I left him in the care of another woman. Only two and a half years later was I able to have the opportunity to stay at home with him, and soon after,conceive and birth my twins, care for them, see them reach the age of two before again returning to the workforce. My return was not one that was taken lightly and I still struggle.

Viewing myself more now as a provider and not a care giver I am not always feeling the job of mom. The struggling feeling that you are more of the hired help, yielding income to support your family; weekends, week night evenings, and just about any spare time is filled with the maintenance of keeping up a home as well as trying to ensure some form of maternal parenting is provided to our children as a strong foundation into their upbringing. It’s lifestyles like this that have encouraged many stay at home parents to pursue an education from one of the many online accredited colleges. no way am I discrediting my husband for his strong paternal role with our children which is monumental where most households experience the opposite, dad at work and mom at home with the kids. He is a phenomenal father, patient, kind, and a strong force for our sons and our daughter. Something I did not have in my home, and am ever pleased that they have such a loving man in their life.

Being a mom is not easy because we are so universal in our children’s foundation. We are initially the delivery vehicle for birth, to be brought into this world, a food source with the milk of our breasts, we provide comfort, security, love to our crying babes with our soothing delicate voices, our touch, arms to bear, hug, and embrace them. We also make sure to promote our children’s independence, despite our innate sense to always protect our children from harm, we push for them to learn on their own in spite of the struggles we know they will face. A mother should be loving and assertive as to stand her ground on what is right so as to encourage just actions and a moral compass for the future of these young individuals.

Motherhood aside, a “mom” is also a wife, lover, friend, co-worker, employee, woman, girl, child, daughter, sister. So we must learn to balance the motherhood role in life in addition to those roles we have taken on or assumed. I struggle on being a mom, wife, friend, lover, and woman. Not knowing when I can “treat” myself to those moments that were predefined in my life prior to the conception of my children. When can I revisit being a woman. A wife. A lover. If you scoff at this notion, clearly you are unaware of the actions of lumping a husband into the children pool, often emasculating him and issuing forms of discipline and condescension that we inflict because we are so often in “mommy mode.” We forget to be a lover, and embrace our femininity. By doing so does not make us selfish but well rounded, healthy, and aware of who we are and not losing our sense of self.

No matter if the job of mom is staying at home or working outside of the home, we are a mother nonetheless. We just, however, juggle the various roles that accompany our number one job which is being a mom. Loving those unconditionally that we bore of our own flesh and blood, safeguarding in their present and future, and yet pedagogical to foster learnings.

What do you struggle with in the job of mom? Do you sometimes feel a disconnect because you work outside the home? Do you feel a disconnect or lack of appreciation for being a stay at home mom?

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Inns and Outs of Spring Break

For over eight years The Chad and I have been deprived of a REAL vacation. You know the kind where you request paid time off with your employer with that hard earned vacation time that generally get’s paid out on your check. The kind where you actually leave home and relax. Yes, this is the vacation we have been seeking. While we took a small “vacation” to San Diego a few years ago where we treated the kids to a full day at the beach and Legoland, the vacation could be classified more so as a trip. We managed to squeeze in a “mini-vacation” for the kids while The Chad was working in the Southern California area at the time.

This year we vowed to actually take the kids on an adventure vacation in the states. Visiting the beach was definitely on the list and we wanted to do something out of the ordinary. We also wanted to avoid theme parks and canned vacations s at ALL costs. So my Google search began to find unique places to stay and keep within our earthy, love of the outdoors, family style vacation without going too granola. I had found it too, and wish I could recall how I came upon the idea of sleeping in a tee pee. Yes, I said tee pee. As in Native American, triangular, authentic, tee pee. A KOA located in the midst of an agricultural mecca (Ojai) between Santa Barbara and Santa Paula had these fantastic six to eight man tee pee’s to sleep in. “BINGO!” I told myself. Now pitching to The Chad was another task, I knew the kids would buy in, but would The Chad.

My master powers of persuasion were of superior quality in selling this family vacation, out-of-state and pseudo camping. Now we would gain the popular vote of the kids to see if they really wanted to trudge through crowds of cattle at the theme parks, or go camping in a tee pee. Thankfully my kids shared in my granola spirit to enjoy the great outdoors and spend time as a family sans modern technology and instantly gratifying, cartoon infested parks. Now to plan the drive as the camp area was at least an eight hour drive from home and not a journey either of us wanted to take in one shot. So we mapped the half way point which landed us in Palm Springs. Then we had to decide on our stay since it was literally just a midway for us during the vacation and did not have to be anything spectacular. But when I say it did not have to be spectacular it also did not have to mean it lacked ANY and ALL redeeming qualities.

Copyright Days Inn, 2012

I booked our stay at the Days Inn through Hotels.com and considering our past visits with the Days Inn we “assumed” these accomodations would be as convenient and agreeable. Oh how wrong I was! I booked a Deluxe with each stay and the deluxe afforded me the second story, which I specifically requested NOT to be booked. Small children and lugging bags is not deluxe if YOU are the concierge. The room lacked ANY form of caffeine for the early risers. A lot of good the microwave and fridge does me when I need caffeine for my morning beast. The sheets were…clean…if you could call them that. A mascara smear stained on the sheets in the fashion that the previous user received a good ol’ snogging doggy style, presumably. If you wanted to clean up and take a shower, I hope you are at least knee high to a grasshopper, because resting on your knees would afford you the chance to wet and rinse your hair and body, and if you got lucky a scalding, high heat rinse would complete your washing experience as to remove any form of germs on your body followed by an ice showering to close and tighten those aging pores. Finally the “heating and cooling” system, which was similar to a window AC unit a fraternity brother installed. We had to shim the venting with an empty bottle of shampoo in order to circulate any air in the room. Needless to say I was anxious to go camping than I was to be in this shady ass excuse for hotel accommodations. But look at that happy Photoshop family picture and the site boasts the boutique hotel? HOGWASH!!

On the road again and we were KOA bound to roast marshmallows and camp out in a tee pee. We could not be more excited.

% KOA Campgrounds

We arrived at a reasonable time in the afternoon to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the cool of the shade in this little gem outside of Santa Paula and Ojai. Our tee pee was the largest on the property and we plotted out where everything would go, such as our camp stove, sleeping arrangements and we immediately began prepping dinner with cooking filet mignon over the open fire. I ran up to the check in area and wrangled some firewood for the evening in addition to what we scrounged around the camp area. Too busy dealing with the twins who were eager to inspect the public restrooms, which did not exist at the check in, I completely spaced reminding the camp head that we needed our heater for our tee pee which was provided as part of our package. Instead, I became distracted and attempting to distract S & S while waiting for the camp head by shopping the little general store area. Of which I found a cork screw for my bottle of chardonnay. Yes, I digressed, but sought relief in the impending alcohol indulgence. I also bought the firewood, wrangled gnomes, and immediately forgot the propane heater. BANNER!

By this time I had returned to our tee pee and was greeted by the hubs and half throwing the little people out of the car so they could scurry to the bathroom for the urgency to pee that didn’t exist, because they promptly returned to playing. Grrrr. His greeting was, “Forgot the heater huh? Isn’t that the reason you went up to the check in office?” Wanting to cry and kick his ass all at once for 1 – planning this God forsaken trip by myself with little input, 2 – doing ALL the packing for the trip within an hours time before loading humans into the car to depart, and 3 – for not making sure that the gnome sized humans stayed with him so I could focus on getting the goddamned heater. Sighs. After we went around about the cluster fuck situation I just had to deal with, he finally headed up to get the heater, and then returned empty handed. Great. I am sure this will be my fault. At this point I have pretty much said “fuck it” to the remainder of this trip, nothing else could be redeeming, and it pretty much wasn’t.

Freezing our asses off that night ,shortly after the front loaders and earth movers kicked off for the night, which was right around the ripe hour of 7pm we agreed we would not stay another night. The plan to camp in a tee pee was great in theory, but the cascade of events was not worth our trip continuing to take a shit.

The next morning we packed and headed off toVentura, where we stayed in the lovely Marriott Hotel. Which clearly was made for anorexic, petite people because they don’t believe in queen size beds. I won’t bore you further with these details, but the price was stupid for the discomfort, the only redeeming quality, COFFEE. IN. ROOM. Joy and rapture folks, Zip Line, ventura beach park, Ventura beachjoy.and.rapture. The day we arrived we spent basking in the sun on the beach. Which is exactly what we wanted to do, and did, and loved. The kids loved it. They even rode a zip line which is the other reason we chose the camp site we did, for the kids adventure activities. Which were nil and no longer offered during the “week.” LAME. Of course we did not find this out until the evening before checking out where the groundskeeper (who shared in our disdain for the construction on site at our campground) that the kids activities were only on the weekends. But the website said the activities are “always going on.” Details Karie…don’t get stuck on the details.

Our final day we trekked back to Palm Springs and the hell of the Days Inn, where check in is supposedly at 2pm…negative Goose. The check in is at 3pm and we were luck to get a room when we did, since housekeeping was still making rounds. But the next morning they were sure prompt to clean our room at 9am, I mean we didn’t even work up a morning deuce after breakfast before they were dressing the “linens” on the bed. Not to mention the “free continental breakfast” meant waiting in line at the diner on site to obtain coffee and a danish. Classy.

At last the trip came to an end and I could not have been more freaking grateful to be going HOME! That is when you know the vacation is over, when you are ready to be home, go home, and go back to work. Granted, I am excited our family was able to spend some quality time together, I just wish the trip hadn’t felt so royally fucked over. What did I learn for this vacation? Quit doing the cool shit. Talk to your friends. Get outside feedback. Just today I was told about Jalama Beach outside Santa Barbara, where you camp on the beach. We are there for the next trip. Just beach, just family. But overall the kids had fun, and that was ultimately what mattered is that they had a blast. Seeing the muster of peacocks in our campground, roasting marshmallows, playing on the beach and riding the zip line on the beach. Their enjoyment made the hellish event all worth it!

 

 

 

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A Two and A Three

Time flies is a cliche at her finest. I am no fan of cliches, I think they are overused, lack substance, and well they are easy to use when you have nothing intelligent to say. But in the case of my children, time cannot stand still. Blogging I care not much for these days because let’s face it, spending all my spare time on the computer typing furiously about promoting another product, bashing people because of a lacking self-esteem (ahem), is rather, what would be the word…pathetic, and truly could be worthy of an intervention.

Although I work full-time and my children attend some of the finest educational institutions while I am at said job, my time is well spent with them during the time we are not apart. Soccer games, bike rides, hugs, kisses, coloring, reading, Lego’s and of course the token sibling fights consume the majority of our time. However, I have to stop and take in the sight of my children, survey them as individuals. I then am astonished at how much these beautiful little people have grown, changed, morphed, become more than I could ever dream of for such people that have blessed my life.

In as little as a few weeks the dynamic duo turn three. THREE! I am flabbergasted, astonished really because a time warp has taken place where just yesterday I started my blog while pregnant with the squids. Writing how I was still in denial that I was pregnant with two delicate lives in me, how could this pregnancy happen to me, would I make it, would they be okay.

Today, I write about how I hope they will be okay because may the powers that be protect these two little demons from the mommy wrath since they unloaded all the bath water, cup by cup onto the now flooded bathroom floor. Sigh.

But while I curse them for their behavior and the water and the mess I would never ask anything different. I have not been able to recall my memories of old when life was not consumed by children, their giggles, their screams and whines, and the precious moments of “I love you mom.” Recalling how boring life really was without kids, how I wasted money on frivolous minutiae. As the twin twosome turns three I am pleased to say that at least half of the duo is completely potty trained, ahem Sara….get a move on girly, they can recite their alphabet, count to ten, recall colors randomly, use manner like no one’s business and speak in clear and full sentences.

No let me take that final comment back. The twinsome cannot shut the eff up! I say this with complete love but they are blabber mouths, chatterboxes, motor mouths, these two command your attention when the topic arises. Their memories shadow any elephant, recall is amazing and would defy any statistician. I say this not as their mother, but as someone who is yet again astonished at the beauty and mystique of the growth of young children. How someone so fragile can grow so rapidly to function at a level that sadly most adults cannot operate. But with them turning three we have covered some major milestones that I am so pleased to have experienced in my life and as a parent.

Motherhood does not grant us beauty and serenity in the typical sense, motherhood is also not easy. I found however that anything that is easy in life is not of any value. So while I know these milestones have not been easy, we have experienced some major growing pains together and am thankful for the patience and love of my children as I know as they experience these same milestones with their children in our near future they too will be thankful for the patience and love given to them during those wonderful and thwarting years. I also know I would never ask to change anything about our lives, about my life with them. They are one of my life’s greatest challenges and as those who know me best, know I love a good challenge. With that, I am happy to take on the challenge of some more great years with the troublesome twosome, because I could not imagine life without these beautiful children of mine.

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Are you a good mom

Today I was having lunch with my best friend as I do each and almost everyday. She told me that her dad and sister would be coming to lunch and invited me. I was gracious and obliged, how would I pass up meeting her dad that she talked so candidly about. We passed stories along and my friend’s father was telling stories of how he lived abroad, then randomly, as my friend does, blurts out how you would never know I have three kids.

Twins and Mama on BeachMy friend’s dad perked up and was too surprised to hear I have three kids. He then complimented me to the point where my skin matched my red dress when he said I could “be a Bette Middler stand-in” and again I was humbled. My dear cohort continued to add about the twins. I laughed holding my humility and he looked at me very kindly and said, “You are a good mom.” I again, maintaining my air of humbleness thanked him kindly and said “some days.”

Rather I wonder some days if I am a good mom. I know my children are well fed, well loved, have better manners than most adults stating their gratitude and always being thankful for what they have and do not have. They are dressed accordingly and their clothes are in good condition and I do not in any fashion neglect them. I always listen attentively to their needs, their wants, and their antics. But sometimes I let the demons that walk this earth bore into my psyche where I question if I am a good mom. I know better, but my weak moments take over, thinking I could always do more.

However, I realize only then I cannot give my children anymore. The life lessons they learn by working hard for what you want in life, gratitude, humility, respect, and the plain and simple fact nothing is owed to anyone is all I can give them. I cannot give them anymore love than I already have to offer, which I would die for them. No matter what edge of sanity they may drive me over, through, and towards, my unyielding and unbridled love for these people is amazing. The encouragement and reassurance of their intelligence and that they can do anything they put their minds too provides them with the self-esteem and self-assurance they need to conquer any task or lead any board room.

When I was younger, even before I had children, I would judge children and parents based on how the children acted, how the parents acted. Now I pity them, and hope that one day that those children would learn such qualities of humility, respect, self-preservation, perseverance, hold a high level of self esteem. I pity only because I know that those children and parents are only privy to the tools they were provided, and while they are not perfect, nor am I, some individuals do not have access to certain life skills and tools that are much more valuable in life than what the brand on the tag of the clothing states.

Which brings me to the fact that I am far from perfect and I should be able to walk through life and my children’s life knowing that while I am not supermom of the year, I sometimes have trouble getting the stains of a shirt (especially since my Holy Cow went out of business….sigh), I sometimes forget to sign a note right away and it is a day late, or I forget someone’s blanket before leaving for pre-school. But what I never forget is to tell my children endlessly each day how much I love and adore them, how brilliant they are, how talented they are, how they are such great children despite any behavior issues, and I never forget they are mine. No one can tell me how to raise my children, live my life, and I have hope for humanity when a complete stranger can look at me and make the judgment of how I am a good mom.

With that I can sleep well knowing that good people still do exist, who do not judge harshly, ill willfully, and are good at heart. I can take that and pass that onto my children for their karma. Because how one person acts is their karma, how you act is your own.

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How You Do It

Something a mom of multiples hears all the time is :
“How do you do it?”

Granted, we really are no different than any other mom. We all birthed a child, we care and love for our child or children, we worry, we do the best we can, we struggle, we cry, we scream, we want to pull our hair out, we are just like any other mom.

 

With one exception.
Multiple and twin moms gave birth to MORE THAN ONE child at ONE TIME.
So when you dress your children the same that may be a year or two apart in age, this is not the same as twins or more. Because you had two in diapers at the same time. Say a newborn and a 14 month old or so….this is not the same as twins or more. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not bagging on these women. But really….you open a whole new can of something when you say:

“Well, it’s like having twins”


Right! Like a colonoscopy is the same as having a vaginal exam right? They are down in that nether region…rooting around…its like the same.

I laugh. I cannot help but laugh. Or smirk like I want to tell some twit that her comment about “Well it’s like having twins” or “Well they are like twins” IS. NOT. TWINS.

Again, not bagging or berating. I am clearly stating the obvious. Which back to the obvious question of “How do we do it?”

I tell you what. I really do not have a clue how we do it. Something went off in my brain that told me I had no choice. In reality, I did have a choice.
A). care for my children or B). leave them to fend for themselves and dub myself a terrible mother. My decision was pretty crystal, A!

From the moment they were born I knew I had to run the show like a perfect machine. Rituals, schedules, timing, noting all of the pertinent details of everything from changing’s and the types of changes. Did we have a #1, a #2, or a combo platter. Feedings. How long, how much, breast or bottle. Which in my case it was breast and for how long. Did I have to pump. The whole thing became a science during the first six months. I called my therapist. A LOT!

I cried. A LOT. My therapist told me to, she said crying was healthy. I had to grieve. I had to feel like I was falling apart. I did and then pulled myself back together and went right back to taking care of my babies. All three.

You really take for granted trying to maneuver 2 infant carriers and a 5 year old. Who do you load first? Who gets unloaded first? You run the chicken and the egg question in your head. You weight lift and learn to man handle them both at the same time. Now I look like a quarter back grappling each one under an arm, but before I would cradle each one in a palm and arm. No choice, no option. Especially when you have a husband who could sleep through the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.


Doors are fun. If they are not automatic or have the handicap button, you really struggle. No one helps you. They stare. They gawk. Then they interrogate you. You are a celebrity and they are the paparazzi. You want to run. You want to ignore them.

Questions. Oh the questions. I have contemplated the idea of toting stickers with me that have the coined phrase “Here’s your sign” because I am appalled at the boldness and daft beauty in the probing. I have a whole post dedicated to questions…one I should update and bring forth as I get new questions everyday. Especially when the one woman who had separate fathers was spotlighted. Oh that day was a joy.

Judgment and ridicule. We get that too. Not sure why. I mean we don’t ask for help. We don’t. Twin and multiple moms go to other twin and multiple moms for help. Watch them. They rarely ask any Joe Blow, “would you mind helping me for a moment.” We are usually the ones who have folks offer themselves upon us as if we are invalids and completely incapacitated to care and watch over our own children. They are the ones that reach in and want to hold your child when you are shopping. Those folks give me the urge to shop with a fly swatter. Seriously, I don’t grab at your children or at your walker saying “Hey let me give you a boost” or “Hey great baby, let me hold him/her for you.” Seriously?! We also get that EVERYONE else knows that we could not have had boy/girl twins or girl/girl or boy/boy twins that are fraternal.

NOPE.

They are all identical. Um…okay. Thanks for playing, you do not get to go to the bonus round. I am not quite sure why people assume that twins mean same sex. But I have had so many say, “so how long were you on drugs before you got pregnant.” Again, seriously?! I want to say not long, hubs got me all liquored up pushed me down on my back and WHAM, did we get lucky!

How do we do it?


One foot in front of the other. Long, heaving breaths with our eyes closed, our minds empty where we return to center and build the gumption to keep moving. We have a sick and twisted sense of humor. We learn to laugh at everything, freak about nothing (unless Earth shaking of course), and share what we go through…with everyone. Because we are truly blessed to have a body that was a holy vessel of sorts for two special people to take residency for nine months. Blessings of kisses and smiles and hugs. I truly believe that if we stopped and thought about all we do as parents of multiples and twins we truly would lose our mind.
However, we do it just like every other mom.
We love, dig in for the long haul, hope for the best, worry, cry, wipe tears, chase off monsters, wipe butts, clean messes, give every ounce of ourselves and our unconditional love and at the end of the day hope we saved a little for ourselves.

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You Might Die Having More Than One Baby…Well Not Literally

My reaction to having twins was pretty much like all other mother’s or soon to be mothers who found they were having twins.

WTF!!??

Seriously. I did not sign up for this. I was crazy enough to sign up for ONE. Let alone TWO!

The journey of life begins. Every mother/soon to be mother’s fear is the loss of the pregnancy until about week 12 or so. The fear subsides. Sometimes the morning sickness. Heartburn is a daily visitor. Urinating is like breathing….you don’t realize you went so much until you see your water bill the next month from what seems like continuous flushing. And finally the time comes when the two little faces you have come to know as Baby A and Baby B, blurry, splotchy, and skeletal, greet you with white filmy, pink flesh, cries, crying, tears, joy, sorrow, shakes, unknowing, fear, terror, pain, defense, a rainbow gamut of emotions.

I wanted to make sure my kids were alright. I was put at ease to know they were. They still are. Bounding, giggling, sqwealing, wailing, whining, crying, and carrying on, they are more than alright. But before we got to the alright, I really was not sure if I would be alright.

I was not sure if I could go the distance. I saw my skin stretch to the point of being a cast member on a Sci Fi world premiere television event. My back, hips, and knees were in so much pain, I was thankful for the winter season in AZ so I could sport compression stockings 24-7. I quite literally thought I would die. Twin pregnancy sucked. Pregnancy with a singleton sucked, but nothing compared to my two for one deal.

So when I met them and I was ponder how the hell I would manage. By Myself. All Alone. I thought I was going to break. Yes I have DH. Yes he is a great help with changings and baths and the like. But the rest was all me. You see I was the one with the lactating breasts. I was the one who had two. Lactating. Breasts. And so I did it. I breast fed both my twins. At the same time, one on each breast. For each feeding. Never missing a beat. Never, if hardly ever giving a bottle. With the exception to boost caloric intake for Sara who was a lot smaller and needed more, even though she was six pounds at birth as a twin. But I did it. Until I thought I was going to die. Until I thought I was going to lose my mind. I was losing every inkling of who I was as a person. As a woman. A wife. A caregiver. I need to break what I was doing for my own metal condition. To prevent a complete breakdown.

I had many. Breakdowns. I would put the kids down for their nap time which was every 2 hours give or take. And then I would find a nice spot in the house to retreat and ball my eyes out. I didn’t ask for twins. I didn’t have fertility issues. I was and am a good mother…why was I cursed? Why was I given this ultimate challenge, the job to top all jobs, an early death sentence, why me? I asked this for six months after the birth of my Thing One and Two. What was I to learn? Had I not suffered and struggled enough in my young life that NOW. NOW when I can enjoy being a mother I am tossed this curving knuckle ball to beat out into center field.

So I suffered through the pointless comments, stops, gawks, and gasps about having twins. The daft and the bold of fertility issues which most assumed was my issue. NO ONE has twins that are boy girl. (Um…okay….did you miss sex ed.) I dealt with it all. The nasty, the insane, the unbelievable, even the codependents who clearly thought I was unable to care for two children at the same time. As if I was the Octo-Mom Nadya Suleman or something.

At about 10 months I knew I was going to make it. Life got easier as I weaned (Sara…not so much the Seth-En-Stein) off the boob and into a hand held baby bottle to go! Bottle feeding was easy as they were able to hold things on their own at that time. Then when the sitting up really was in full force the high chairs were rotated into the house. Meals got easier. Naps were still consistent. I was a free woman again. I could leave the house and not worry if I was going to have saucer size messes all over my shirts if I didn’t move fast enough through a store to get home for a feeding.

Things got easier because I kept them on a schedule. From the day they were born they were on a schedule with me. I knew if they deviated life would be hell. I wouldn’t sleep, I would suffer, they would suffer, DH and Big G would suffer with me.

The one year mark passed and I wondered where the time went. I still wonder. I thought life would get easier with them. Which life did, get easier, for a short moment. And then they both started walking. Climbing. Almost running now. My house is on a constant Def Con 1 status.

But being a mom of twins gets easier. I am able to enjoy these moments as they entertain themselves. I am not always the playmate, which sucks, but is a life saver all in one. I watch them now “twin talk” to each other. I watch them watch us and learn. I watch them turn into loving people before my eyes and I wonder where the time has gone.

Big G told me the other day how much he loved me and that I was a great mom. I didn’t know what to say. I welled up and felt the burn in my cheeks, my nostrils flared, and I wondered where the time went. He tells me how much he appreciates the organic juice and milk boxes for lunch, that I cut his sandwiches into triangles, that I picked him up from school with his brother and sister. And I wonder where the time has gone. That my boy no longer gazes at me like I am the most beautiful woman on Earth, but that I am the woman who knows him best. Moreso than his father. He looks at me and smiles and tells me how much he loves me. The twins fight for a seat in my Indian Style lap, each wanting a prized thigh to hold them. And I wonder where the time has gone that they used to feed until they couldn’t eat anymore, gaze up at me and pass out.

I really thought I was going to die with twins. But if dying means that you get to enjoy all that life gives you, with twice as many hugs, twice as many smiles, and yes…twice as many diapers. I wouldn’t change my death wish. Life with multiples isn’t easy, but what is easy is the love you feel for these people who came into your life when you thought you truly were damned.

I am proud to have enjoyed Grant as my oldest, he was my teacher on being a mom. The twins are only helping me perfect the fine art of evolving motherhood.