If I Wrote a Parenting Book

There are days where you just can’t wait to be done with your responsibilities so you can get a big glass of something to wind down and burrow into the couch. I call those happy days. Then there are the other days like today where the kids suck for not being asleep, the neighbours suck for doing noisy outdoors stuff, the dog sucks for barking at the neighbours while the kids are trying to sleep, and the thing that normally brings the ultimate happiness, which is food, has lost its flavour.

On those days just stick me with a needle full of absinthe and put me in a coma.

The only thing that doesn’t suck is my husband, but he’s out of town for work this week so actually he sucks too. At the moment a very real irritation is seething through my nervous system, which may be attributed to my kids’ excessive whining and crying earlier this evening. Recently I asked my parents how they put up with me and my brothers when we were little. They responded so coolly saying we weren’t too whiney and that they never yelled at us. That reminded me of some other parents who said they never yell at their kids. I don’t know if I believe any of that. Some are either misremembering or lying. For those who are lying, why lie?

Yelling at your kids is normal if you’re human.

For those who actually don’t yell ever, then wow, that is incredible. I could never be friends with those parents though, same ones that talk about how their kids are so amazing and bring them so much happiness and love. Most parents feel indescribably blessed and bewondered but honestly it’s more therapeutic and fun to socialize with other parent friends about how hard and humanizing it is to raise littles. It’s hard! I don’t even read about the rights and wrongs anymore. I hear a lot about encouraging sensory play and not letting them watch television too much. I’m not agreeing or disagreeing. I just don’t care if my son is getting sensory play with tubs full of rice and rocks or if he’s getting it from playing with dog food or actual dirt and rocks in their natural habitat.

Sometimes on the weekends, we take the kids out and sometimes we binge watch movies all day.

Sorry, not movies, just one movie over and over again. We have given my son the tablet numerous times to keep him occupied while we take care of something around the house. Sometimes we have given him the tablet just because we want to be technological jerks during the forbidden hours of his wakefulness. Maybe we want to call our friends, play games, or online shop but how dare we? Sometimes we give proper time outs and second chances but…

…other times we yell and scream and put them somewhere out of our sight,

so we can catch our breaths and slow our heartbeats. We don’t need to do what’s expected and we shouldn’t care how we are judged.

We do what is necessary.

Sometimes it’s necessary to put them up to bed earlier than usual, pour a big glass of something and hit the couch like it’s the hottest spot in the city which coincidentally it really is for me. I’ve succumbed to my crippled social life, but like you know, succumbed in a happy way. They may have completely crushed my spirit just a couple hours ago but now I’m rekindled with my warm mommy self, my mind is relaxed, my body feels rested, and my glass is half full. Not of absinthe but of love. Just kidding, that’s silly. It’s full of whiskey.

Tonight’s blog is inspired by the remote being lost. I can’t turn on the television so I turned on my laptop. I looked everywhere for it; under the couch, under the couch cushions, in my purse, the fridge, the pantry, the washing machine. This search sequence got me looking back over the last few years that I’ve been married. How have my skills as a wife evolved? Recently I proved victorious in one aspect. It took over four years of marriage, and thirty four years of life, but I finally stopped poking holes in my dish washing gloves while cleaning knives. It has been at least a week. Yet, I may be currently running the remote through the washer so that sets me back a bit. Sometimes I almost put the milk in the pantry and the oatmeal in the fridge.  Once I was putting clothes in the dryer and I found a dirty diaper in there. I am pretty sure I don’t know a single person who has done that so I didn’t seek advice about whether I should rewash everything. Anyway, I didn’t rewash because it was only a pee diaper and my standards for cleanliness have become questionable. It is just too hard to keep up. With one baby, it wasn’t too demanding. With three, there is just way too much laundry and general mess in the house. It’s really desensitizing. I mean sometimes I’m looking at a mess, or something that needs vacuuming, and I’m tired so I asked myself Will everyone survive if I don’t vacuum my hair that’s falling out on the mat in the play area? Well, yes everyone will survive, most likely. Do I sometimes see my toddler pulling one of my loose hairs out of his mouth? U-huh. That’s his problem. Stop eating cheerios off the floor! My mind can be such a fuzzy, fatigued blur that I just choose not to deal. Sometimes the kids mess things up, play with electronics, bulldoze the dog who starts growling, all while I sit on the couch and supervise. Sometimes I just don’t yell No every five seconds. Sometimes I just don’t Mother the kids or Wife the house. And it is so freeing. One night after the babies were in bed, I sat down with my wine and opened up Google and asked How to stop getting your toddler to say No to you. There I sat feeling so stupid because the first piece of advice that popped up instructed me to be the one to stop saying no to him. This parental-genius child-whisperer of a website said I should instead respond to him by saying stuff like I prefer if you didn’t…, You can’t have any milk now because you just had some…, It’s time to sleep but you can watch your show tomorrow. Different approaches seem to work and what may have worked today may not work tomorrow. Mom skills have to always be evolving. As for the wife skills, well I do my best to be my best. It’s important to celebrate all victories, big or small. Once in a while, I discover that I’ve mastered some skill like washing knives. Other times I drop the ball, like when I washed a dirty diaper. As for tonight, I am happy to announce that my remote control is sparkly clean and apparently waterproof. See, another victory!

Somehow Christmas gets done. The tree gets decorated, the presents get bought, the stockings get hung. Maybe we nail the family photo, maybe we don’t. Maybe we have matching outfits, maybe we don’t. Maybe we get to Church on time, maybe we don’t go at all. Maybe the kids go see Santa, or not. What’s the big deal about that? The guys at the malls aren’t the real Santa anyway. I didn’t take my toddler to see him this year. You can call me lazy even though laziness is a luxury I wish my pre-mom self had bequeathed to the current me. The truth is it seemed like a lot of work getting him to the mall, ripping my hair out trying to keep him calm in the long line up, and knowing that his mood will be a toss-up once our turn comes. Maybe I’ve ruined his childhood, I don’t know. At the last minute, I decided I should at least take the twins to meet him for their first Christmas. For one thing, the mall Santa by my house is so happy and kind of handsome. Plus, my toddler had a photo with him for his first Christmas so it’s only fair that his brothers get one. I figured it’s okay if he doesn’t go this year since he doesn’t know much about Christmas yet, so it’s not like he’s asking for it. It will add no value to his happiness. So why am I even writing about it? Because I feel the mildest bit of guilt and it is so annoying! The three nagging nuisances of parenthood: guilt, worry, and doubt. Often parents ask other parents if parenting gets easier. Some say it doesn’t, others say you get used to it and learn to handle it better. Of course you always hear that adage small kids small problems, big kids big problems. Blah, blah, blah! Don’t tell me that things aren’t easier once you get rid of car seats and diapers. Don’t tell me it doesn’t get easier once they can go up and down the stairs un-chaperoned and fetch their own snacks. I get that other problems come up but I for one am dreaming of the day when I can go for a dinner, a movie, or a haircut without trying to orchestrate top notch security for the three tiny presidents that run our household. The point is every outing is an ordeal whether we are going with or without the kids. So I really didn’t make an effort for the photos this year. I think two things make parenting easier. One is to accept that the three nuisances will creep into every serious and silly aspect of parenting. The second is to keep things simple. If something doesn’t suit my family, we just don’t do it. We can’t know where we will be tomorrow, next month, or next Christmas. We can only hope to be together, healthy, happy, and carefree, in matching outfits on the handsome Santa’s lap. We got Christmas done this year and even when we keep things simple it takes a lot of effort, with a side of wine. Who put up the Christmas tree? I did. Who wrapped all the presents? I did. Who handmade the kids’ first Christmas ornaments? I did. Who shared most of the advent calendar chocolates with her toddler this year? I did. Who brought happiness and cheer? We did. In the end, my son did get his photo with Santa. Not the mall Santa, but the real Santa. The real Santa is the best. Parents are the real Santa. Therefore, parents are the best. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good wine! I mean good night!

Postpartum life really sucked, especially the second time. I was overly vocal about how dark and dramatic those weeks were for me. I could not say enough times or use enough angry words to express it. I didn’t just have postpartum depression, I had postpartum rage. My husband and I became crazed humans, desperate for relief. I didn’t write about it while it was happening live and now it’s a fuzzy memory so I won’t be able to capture the real feel of it. Maybe that’s for the best – it was ugly. Sometimes we were in awe of our newborns but most of the time we really regretted having more children. Life with our toddler was great and we felt that the twins ruined everything and then we felt badly about blaming them. Obviously this was entirely our doing but we didn’t expect twins! There was just too much anger and guilt. The kids were so demanding that I don’t know how we could have managed juggling everything without support from our family and friends. Honestly I sometimes thought my heart would stop due to stress. There’s that phrase: it takes a village to raise a child. I have no idea what it really means but I feel like it should mean that parents with newborns need help, and the whole village better come over to help, and to check our vitals. Our friends and family were amazing – they were our village. To sum it up, the first couple of months were loaded with fatigue, anxiety, and rage. Then the following couple of months there was still all that but in smaller doses. By the time the twins were six months old, we were having giggle parties in our family room. I knew the good days would come; it was just so wretched waiting for them. A good friend came over the first week we brought the twins home and she said that things will get easier, then they will get really hard, and then they will be great. At the time I wanted to kick her out of my house because, well, I was just constantly angry and didn’t want to hear the middle part of that sandwich. She was totally right, though. I can even recall the exact day of relief. One day just before they turned 8 weeks, the heaviness lifted. It seemed like the twins and I, we just calmed down. There was still work ahead but life felt lighter. Now there’s no more fatigue, anxiety, and rage. We aren’t exhausted, we just get tired. We aren’t anxious, just impatient sometimes. We may get annoyed, but not so angry anymore. Do we miss sleeping in on Saturdays and watching movies of our choice all day? Would we like to not clean up so much vomit and poop? Do we want our freedom back? Yes, yes, and yes. But do I have thousands of pictures and videos of them basically doing nothing more exceptional than chewing their toes or licking the floors? Sure do! And did I buy an external hard drive to free up storage space on my phone so I can load it up with more of the same? Sure did! We can’t get enough of our freedom thieving stinky little chubby boys.  Does it help that all parents think their babies are the cutest on the planet? It most definitely does.

When I think back on the lack of sleep, postpartum moodiness and anxiety from just a few months ago, it’s hard to believe that the person who was going through all that was me. During those months, I had thoughts pop into my head regarding famous people. Thoughts like: if Beyonce doesn’t have to wash baby bottles, why do I? I am not sure why I thought of her but I think she had just given birth to twins around the time I found out I was pregnant with mine, and I seemed to anchor on her. I read that she hired three nannies per baby and they each got paid a hundred grand. Before giving birth, my thoughts were: Filthy rich people are so extra! Raise your own babies, Beyonce! After giving birth, I realized no amount of money could have helped me postpartum. What I needed was six of my mother. I needed six of her so badly I can’t even describe it. I had a part-time nanny who was super reliable and came in handy especially the first six weeks after the twins were born.  Life had become very hard, very fast and I was hanging by a very loose thread, like a human hair. I was exhausted, in and out of the hospital. In the end I can say that by the time I was three months in, I was without a nanny, the twins and my toddler were all under the age of two, and life felt easy. I said it – easy. This isn’t a post about me being supermom. I just happened to go through a difficult eight weeks before things settled down and my experience changed my attitude towards parenthood and my perspective on struggling. The first eight weeks totally broke me and when I finally got some relief, I was grateful. After my four-night stay in the hospital postpartum, several visits back to the hospital and doctor’s office, a case of the stomach flu for my family including my in-laws and my parents, and prolonged postpartum bleeding due to some under-welcome placenta nesting in my uterus which the doctor had to vacuum out, life in May 2018 compared to February 2018, seemed easy. It’s hard dealing with small children and newborns, never mind if everyone in the family is sick. Our experience was just concerning colds and flues – such simple illnesses among the many out there. I am not sure what tired us more, the physical strain of being sick or the constant stress and worry for our sick babies. When my friends and family would support me morally while I complained heavily about my depression and stress, I felt nothing could help me get through except just blurting out my feelings. Three months postpartum, I complained less and I know exactly why it seemed so much easier. It’s because the first eight weeks didn’t kill me and I lived to see these brighter and simpler days where my kids became healthy again, and my husband and I were healthy again.  I prayed to God so many times for patience and strength. I definitely got stronger, but I’m still praying for patience.

I mentioned Beyonce earlier, not because I’m a fan but because I anchored on her. At the time, I didn’t know anyone personally who had twins recently and I would try to imagine what her life was like. That seems silly but I’m just telling it how it was. I know we have many differences, like at least three hundred million of them. I am sure when she wants to go get her nails done, she looks great and cruises in style to the best nail place. Actually the nail beauticians probably go to her house, accompanied by a masseuse. Whereas when I get my nails done, I fall out of my house zombie-style at eight o’clock at night to anywhere willing to take me, leaving my husband alone to brave the baby storm.  There are a lot of twin-moms out there and I don’t know many of them personally. However, knowing they’re all out there makes me feel better – I’m not the first, I’m not the last, and more importantly I’m not alone.