potty learning begins

I'm easing into the whole potty learning phase with the introduction of books, the occasional wearing of training pants, baby proofing the downstairs bathroom, allowing the boys to see their new potty, as well as drawing regular attention to their... elimination. I've always used proper body part names with them, and we use the words "pee" or "pee-pee" and "poop." I just talk about it in the context of changing diapers or them peeing on the fl0or if they're naked or wearing training pants. Unlike some of my friends, I don't make up silly song about poop. It's just not my style!

So, all I can say, having just received in the mail my new copies of Everyone Poops (My Body Science Series) and Once Upon a Potty -- Boy, is I don't think I'm ready for this.

"Just like you, Joshua has a body, and this body has many nice and useful parts..." (ok so far)

"A Pee-Pee for making Wee-Wee...." (oh, Lord... Wee-Wee???)

"A bottom for sitting and in it a little hole for making Poo-Poo." (oh, my.... "a little hole"?)

A Pee-Pee? Wee-Wee? Poo-Poo?

Why are they capitalized? Why are we using the word "Pee-Pee" for a p*enis?

Seriously? I'm such a prude. The pile of poop on the floor on Page 28? Gross! And while I'll admit Everyone Poops is pretty funny, it still grosses me out to see all the piles of turd on page after page!

Why on earth must so many books about potty learning involve the child putting the potty chair on their head??? How would they ever conceive of it being a hat without such a prompt?!?

I'm all about the books, though, so I'll put up with all this silliness in the name of getting these guys out of `diapers. They seem to be fascinated, anyway.

There you have it, my friends. Thus begins what will surely seem like a lifetime of potty talk and potty humor. I'll say it again:

I don't think I'm ready for this!

calling it in

Sometimes you just have to call in favors. Yesterday was one of those days. It wasn't a bad day for me, but Max was finally back to his normal goofball self at the same time that poor Shoghi fell under the curse of whatever illness is going around. Laurie pointed out this morning that it seems like the second twin to get sick over here always gets something worse... why is that? Shoghi is burning up with fever and completely lethargic, and poor Max just wanted both of our attention for playing. I asked on facebook (also known as facecrack to those of us who spend most of the day alone with children and feed our desire for connection through our daily postings) if anyone could take Max for a while, and sure enough, soon I had both a friend to take him out and another friend saying she'd bring over dinner. Seriously, how lucky am I??

You know the best part of it? It's when the favor you need ends up making someone else's day better! Here's Korin's post about taking Max and her daughter shopping yesterday.

pool in the kitchen

If there's one thing I know about getting through the day, it's that late afternoons before dinner time are of critical planning importance. No matter if the little fellas wake up from afternoon nap at 2:30 or 4, they whine, cling, and cry their way through until dinner is on the table. By this time, I am also tired, and sadly, I rarely have a solid dinner plan. I do a lot of wandering around the kitchen, looking blankly into the cabinets the same way a person like me might look under the hood of a car, dumbly expecting the solution to emerge with neon lights and a happy little tune.

As I enter this new year, I have rededicated myself to planning this time of day ahead of time. I have reserved Sunday nights for menu planning, and unlike many of my friends who only make dinner menus, mine will include all three meals plus snacks. How much easier is my life going to be when I know what needs to be cooked when, which snacks to pack up or set on their little table, and what meals are on the way? It is a relief just thinking of it.

Last week, the whining was really wearing me down. Typical meal-prep video distraction was not working. I was too tired to try to make dinner with one 30-pounder on my back and another 20-pounder in my arms.

making dinner is challenging with only one hand.

I ran out in the rain and grabbed the summertime wading pool, flicking off those ugly Portland slugs as I jogged towards the door. I carried it in over the pulling hands and whiny cries and dumped it on the floor, then put two small bins filled with warm, soapy water into the pool right in the kitchen and let the boys go at it.


We turned up the heat, stripped off their clothes and dropped in some toys, and I bought myself 20 minutes to get dinner ready. Granted, it resulted in a wet floor and extra cleanup for me, but this is definitely a trick to remember for hard days that I will no doubt be using again.

not so fast

i finally gave in and let m have a second nap at 3:30 after his 20-minute nap from 11:30-11:50.

Well, I don't know about this one nap thing. The boys are clearly not ready for it. I'd show you the pictures and video I took during our extremely LONG and WHINY day yesterday, but the tears and snot would probably gross you out, and the whining in the video might just split your eardrums. I'd probably lose my entire readership in one post.

too tired to even eat lunch at 11am, we resorted to bottles with some rice cereal added to fill up hungry, sleepy tummies.

So, yeah. Today we're back to two naps. The little guys were so exhausted from the change, which was expressed by Max in his verbal/emotional way (i.e. lots of crying and whining) and by Shoghi in his physical/kinetic way (i.e. lots of biting). I guess for now I'm just going to have to find a peaceful place in my heart about not having any time by myself during the day. I think it must be in there, but it's very, very small. I need time alone - I needed it before having children, and even more so now that I'm using every neural connection to try to succeed at finding my way in this phase of my life. In short order, I'm going to have to get brave and accept some of the childcare help that's been offered... if you and I are friends on facebook, you no doubt know what I mean, since most of my chatter about this subject gets directed there.

What that means is that Bamboo Village is taking over the downstairs. All kinds of things find their way into the boys' hands. Prototypes of new designs for the spring are lying in various states of production, and all flat surfaces seem to be gathering more and more layers of items to be packed, made into final products, photographed or put away. It's kind of crazy, but with the boys at my feet all day, what else can I do?

a ruler's not dangerous, right?
that was yesterday... just look at those tired eyes!

max today with his smart new haircut - behind him you can see one of my double happiness fish towels

Today I had to take the boys to get yet another haircut. All the food in the long hair is pretty gross. Turns out, today is exactly a month since their first haircuts. Max's hair is so thin, it probably won't need a trim for a while, but I had them cut Shoghi's hair extra short, since it grows so very fast.

To be honest, even though S looks adorable with his new do, I'm not so crazy about this truly boyish style. It just seems so tough somehow... too hard? Too mature? I don't know... for some reason, it brought forward a lot of thoughts and fears about having a rough and tumble boy... I am having such a hard time teaching Shoghi to be gentle - Max currently has three nasty bruises from Shoghi biting him. It'll grow on me, I know... there was just a little shock seeing him look so different today!

the new normal

I am totally overwhelmed. Today, it seems, nothing is going right -- in fact, I'm so screwed, I am just sitting here on my couch, feeling frozen and unsure of what I can even do.

I hate feeling this way. I look at other women mothering toddler twins and can't imagine how they do it. Keep a clean house? Cook good meals that the babies will actually eat? Keep up with laundry; keep the children from biting or hitting, or otherwise hurting each other; pay the bills; deal with paperwork; create interesting things to do; find a way to earn some money???? I feel like I am failing on every single front.

I am trying to run my Etsy shop and get a marketing workshop organized for January. It's becoming clear to me that this path isn't going to work. Not only am I not making any money - I'm losing it. Re-investing in my shop is turning into a nightmare. Finding time to promote either of these ventures is completely impossible. I want to cry at the thought of it all.

When I was pregnant, I thought of China as my backup plan. If I ran out of money and couldn't find a job, I'd just move back there for a year or so. It's cheap to live, the food is great, work is plentiful, and it's easy to hire a nanny. Now that I have children, moving to another country seems insane. There's no way I can take the boys away from their auntie - their other parent. This morning I was lying in bed with Max, and in the dark he awoke, saying "Mama, Mama, Mama. Auntie, Auntie, Auntie. Shoghi, Shoghi, Shoghi." It was so sweet - that litany of his favorite people. It still amazes me to be at the top of that list. Hell - it amazes me to be ON the list. I'm a mother! Despite the feelings I describe in this post, I am filled with gratitude for even having these problems... to say I love these boys and being their mama doesn't even begin to convey the depth of that emotion.

Anyway, it is just so clear that I have to make this work. Here, in Portland. And "MAKE it work" is what it feels like. Forcing something to happen. "This shop must generate some income;" "This workshop must get off the ground." This feeling of desperation is backfiring, though... I feel everything I try to push into existence full of resistance and refusing to budge. My grad school application got filled out, but when it came to sitting down and articulating my goals, I froze. I tried for weeks. Finally, I gave up and told the admissions coordinator that I'd finish the app for summer session.

This morning was our last day with E, our babysitter who has taken care of the boys on and off since they were about 2 months old. Just thinking of it brings me to tears, not only because of how much the boys and I will miss having her around (she's about to have a baby herself!), but on a very basic level, it simply means that I have no more help. I have no more mornings to sit at the cafe for a couple of hours and organize my thoughts. I have no more time to deal with a job search without the boys pulling at me or threatening to bite me (or each other). I have not been able to afford having her for some months, but the alternative of not having anyone has brought me to keep having her over. That luxury is over, though... I'm not in a position to find someone else.

I just feel like it's all building up to a big disaster. I feel incapable and paralyzed. I feel, every hour, overwhelmed. Sadly, this has become my new normal.

for all the years without you

Dear Shoghi and Maxwell,

The house is quiet; everyone has gone to bed. You are both sleeping peacefully, beautifully, gracefully in your beds. Your sweet hands moved, Shoghi, when I bent to cover you with your blanket, one I bought about a year before you were conceived. Maxwell, you lay there quietly when I just now spread the blue blanket I crocheted with my longing hands some four years before you were born. You are going to be ten months old this week - it's so close to a year ago that you were born into my hands and my life. I can barely contain the love I feel for you; you are both so perfect and miraculous.

I believe that there is a spiritual essence to our relationship - you my sons, I your mother. There is a place within us that connects and communicates with meaning deeper than words. I believe that, in some way, you know what paths I have traversed, what sacrifices I have offered up, what difficult and profound growth I had to achieve in order to become your mother.

For fifteen long years I tried to bring you to life. I sought you out first in the rose gardens, and then in the depths of the cold oceans - I even searched through the deserts of the world, just to catch a glimpse of your beauty and life. Sometimes I thought I had reached you, only to discover that it was just an illusion, a cruel hoax, and I was devastated by loss. Finally, in the end, I gave everything up. I opened my clenched fists, and let everything go. And it was there, in that place of detachment from all the places I had been searching, that I found you - within myself, in the deepest heart of my heart. I found you in joy.

When I am with you now, I delight in your curiosity, I soar on the waves of your laughter, I rejoice in your discoveries. Over these months that you have taken on your physical lives, I have bent and bowed to your needs with love, as mothers do, and I have healed for it.

Maxwell. Shoghi. My sons. Now I know. I know why those years were filled with such terrible longing and sorrow and search - it was the loss of being with you. You were known to my heart before you were known to my arms and eyes. You are the fruits of my joy and my heart and everything that is good and pure about who I am - you are the embodiment and the breath of life and love.

For every difficulty we face, know that the distances I traveled on my journey to our reunion were far greater. I have found that place within myself, that place of creation. We emerged from that place as a family. To say that I love you is but the most pitiful attempt to capture the glory of the sun in a drop of water.

I am, and with deep gratitude ever will remain, your mother.