Remember my post back in August about weaning? Well, I'm still nursing. I started dropping nursing sessions at the end of July so that I could go back to work one day a week without worrying about it, and dropped them all by the end of August. All but one, the before-bed-nurse. I'm still doing it. To be honest, after the haze of the first year started to clear, I realized that nursing didn't have to be horrible drudgery. Doing it only once a day for 10-20mins total instead of once every two hours, lasting from twenty minutes to an hour... totally different. I'm actually enjoying the one-on-one snuggle. I may never do this thing again. I don't want it to be over just yet. A bonus of this once-a-day extended nursing is that if they are teething or sick, I still have milk so I can nurse them in the middle of the night. On those rare occasions, it makes me happy I can comfort them in this way.
The girls seem to really look forward to it at night, and it's rare that we get one-on-one time in the day (rare as in close to never) so it's a really great way to end the day. Plus, whoever is getting nursed last gets to spend some one-on-one daddy time while they're waiting for me to be done with the first baby. Downside is, it does mean that I have to be home at 7pm every night (as I have been for the past five hundred days, minus once). And that's fine most of the time, although I do look forward to the freedom of someone else being able to put them down. I'm just not sure how this is going to end. Will they suddenly decide they don't want it anymore, or will it have to be my job to wean them from that last nursing?
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
How I Shower
When I give people a house tour, and we get to the master bedroom, immediately people notice the play pen full of balls and ask "What is that?"
"That's how I shower".
For a sweet five minutes, the girls are occupied (and safe and confined) while I shower. Works great!
"That's how I shower".
Saturday, January 14, 2012
The Little Things
I love you
and the little things you don't notice, but I do
I imagine you laying in your cribs upstairs
breathing peacefully,
sound asleep after a hard day's play
I look around at all the things you've touched
strewn about the floor perfectly
just how you dropped them, left them,
perfectly
I love your messes
A dolly over here, cheerios there, a ring, a ball
No one can drop a toy quite like you
I love you
and the little things you don't notice, but I do
and the little things you don't notice, but I do
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Because I had two.
Poor Lena has four molars growing in right now. For a few nights in a row, she was up crying for hours and hours. One night, Carmen was sound asleep, I went into their room, picked Lena up and wrapped her up in her blankey and held her, and rocked her and comforted her. I smelled her hair, I looked around her dark room, I kissed her head, I sat with her. I lay with her in the reading nook I made in their room, full of pillows and blankets, and let her fall asleep on my chest. I spent an hour loving everything about her. The sound of her breath, the smell of her, the feeling of her pudgy hand wrapped around my thumb.
And I cried. Because it was the first good memory I had of holding her and comforting her at night like I wanted to.
Before I had children, I imagined those moments, when the new mom snuggles her newborn baby who is sleeping on her chest. She rocks in her rocking chair and looks out at the moon. She is peaceful, and full of love for her new baby. Without even realizing it, I had huge expectations of motherhood. In these pictures, I was always rocking one baby. One. I don't think I have to say that I am grateful for my girls, that I wouldn't change a thing, because of course I wouldn't. This isn't about that. This is about the feeling that won't go away. The feeling that I missed out on something I always imagined for myself. The ability to have those moments with my baby. I don't have a single good memory of comforting my newborn baby. I was unable to be that mother. But maybe, now I'm able.
And I cried. Because it was the first good memory I had of holding her and comforting her at night like I wanted to.
Before I had children, I imagined those moments, when the new mom snuggles her newborn baby who is sleeping on her chest. She rocks in her rocking chair and looks out at the moon. She is peaceful, and full of love for her new baby. Without even realizing it, I had huge expectations of motherhood. In these pictures, I was always rocking one baby. One. I don't think I have to say that I am grateful for my girls, that I wouldn't change a thing, because of course I wouldn't. This isn't about that. This is about the feeling that won't go away. The feeling that I missed out on something I always imagined for myself. The ability to have those moments with my baby. I don't have a single good memory of comforting my newborn baby. I was unable to be that mother. But maybe, now I'm able.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
What have you been up to?
"So Loranda, what have you been up to?"
"Um... uh... babies..."
Whenever someone asks me what I've been up to lately, I have no idea what to say. I am busy, from morning to (and sometimes through) night, but how do I sum up what I do, or explain how it takes up all of my energy? I can't. I try to talk about the big things, the things I have planned, the things I'm doing around the house (because lets be honest, I spend 85% of my time at the home because that's where my babies high chairs and cribs are) and I feel like I have to say stuff about myself that's unrelated to babies.
"Um, I am busy working towards some Lush deadlines... um... I painted my kitchen"
How do I tell someone it takes me 10 minutes to simply walk down a flight of stairs (I plan on writing an entire post on just coming downstairs - coming soon), 15 minutes to get from the front door to the car. An entire hour to feed the babies lunch and another hour for dinner (feeding, which doesn't include preparing the food). Whoever said "Patience is a virtue" must have had toddlers.
It's not as though I can "do" much outside of baby-rearing. "My time" is between 1 and 2:30, at which time I have to be at home, and am usually shower/tidying/working/dinner prepping or laying in a heap of exhaustion. And after 7:30, if the babies aren't teething or sick, I get to relax, and I REALLY look forward to relaxing.
Baby-rearing is an emotionally exhausting, physically exhausting, mentally challenging job. I don't have a lot going on outside of that because I am emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted when I finally do have "me" time. So next time someone asks me what I've been up to, I think instead of waffling about I'm just going to proclaim "Twin Toddlers!" proudly and leave it at that.
"Um... uh... babies..."
Whenever someone asks me what I've been up to lately, I have no idea what to say. I am busy, from morning to (and sometimes through) night, but how do I sum up what I do, or explain how it takes up all of my energy? I can't. I try to talk about the big things, the things I have planned, the things I'm doing around the house (because lets be honest, I spend 85% of my time at the home because that's where my babies high chairs and cribs are) and I feel like I have to say stuff about myself that's unrelated to babies.
"Um, I am busy working towards some Lush deadlines... um... I painted my kitchen"
How do I tell someone it takes me 10 minutes to simply walk down a flight of stairs (I plan on writing an entire post on just coming downstairs - coming soon), 15 minutes to get from the front door to the car. An entire hour to feed the babies lunch and another hour for dinner (feeding, which doesn't include preparing the food). Whoever said "Patience is a virtue" must have had toddlers.
It's not as though I can "do" much outside of baby-rearing. "My time" is between 1 and 2:30, at which time I have to be at home, and am usually shower/tidying/working/dinner prepping or laying in a heap of exhaustion. And after 7:30, if the babies aren't teething or sick, I get to relax, and I REALLY look forward to relaxing.
Baby-rearing is an emotionally exhausting, physically exhausting, mentally challenging job. I don't have a lot going on outside of that because I am emotionally, physically and mentally exhausted when I finally do have "me" time. So next time someone asks me what I've been up to, I think instead of waffling about I'm just going to proclaim "Twin Toddlers!" proudly and leave it at that.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Are we seriously having this conversation?
Orlando and I have been saying things we never thought we'd say.
"Aw, can you imagine what more of our children would look like?"
"If I could guarantee it would be a boy... or two boys..."
"Having twins again wouldn't be the most horrific nightmare I could imagine. I mean, if you're going to have one baby you might as well have two, right?"
"We would just have to put bunk-beds in both of the bedrooms".
Wait a minute...
WHAT?!
Have we developed amnesia? Have we lost our minds? What in the world are we talking about? We caught ourselves in one of these conversations today and were like "wow wow wow...back up, when did this become an okay thing to think about?" and we both firmly agreed that more children is a road we cannot go down. It's sad that we'll only do all this once, but ever since I discovered I was pregnant with twins, I always had the thought that it's the only time I'll do this. It does make me really appreciate things, but it's bittersweet watching your kids grow up, knowing you probably won't be having any more children.
While I was making dinner this evening, I looked up and watched as Orlando walked across the living room. He's really tall - he's 6'4". Then it struck me that if I had a boy, or TWO boys, they would be his boys. They would be big and tall and take up a lot of space and eat a lot of food. Scared me straight.
"Aw, can you imagine what more of our children would look like?"
"If I could guarantee it would be a boy... or two boys..."
"Having twins again wouldn't be the most horrific nightmare I could imagine. I mean, if you're going to have one baby you might as well have two, right?"
"We would just have to put bunk-beds in both of the bedrooms".
Wait a minute...
WHAT?!
Have we developed amnesia? Have we lost our minds? What in the world are we talking about? We caught ourselves in one of these conversations today and were like "wow wow wow...back up, when did this become an okay thing to think about?" and we both firmly agreed that more children is a road we cannot go down. It's sad that we'll only do all this once, but ever since I discovered I was pregnant with twins, I always had the thought that it's the only time I'll do this. It does make me really appreciate things, but it's bittersweet watching your kids grow up, knowing you probably won't be having any more children.
While I was making dinner this evening, I looked up and watched as Orlando walked across the living room. He's really tall - he's 6'4". Then it struck me that if I had a boy, or TWO boys, they would be his boys. They would be big and tall and take up a lot of space and eat a lot of food. Scared me straight.
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| This is our family. Perfect just the way we are. For now. |
