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How I survive staying at home with four children five and under, including twin babies…

I’m feeling quite sunny and capable today and I thought it was a good time to share with the world one of my survival strategies, because I know the world has been watching and waiting to hear this vital information.

First of all, let me thank my neighbor Kathy, who doesn’t read this blog because she doesn’t even know us well enough to realize it exists, but who brought my family dinner tonight just to be kind.  She brought us dinner a couple months ago, too, but she wanted to do it again since, as she said, the help usually dies down once the babies aren’t so new anymore.  And so I thank Kathy publicly for her ham, cheesy hash brown potatoes and spinach and strawberry salad with poppy seed dressing dinner (plus side of chopped fruit for the boys) not only to let the world know what a thoughtful neighbor she is but so you can all see how I keep my sunny disposition: I NEVER deny help.  That is survival strategy number one.
Survival Strategy Number 1: Never deny help.
I keep my cheerful demeanor, my peaceful attitude, my steely resolve amidst chaos by allowing and requesting help anytime it is available.  I realized recently that it is rare that I am holding a baby when I have visitors.  I will dump one or both babies on my guest’s shoulders and go about chit chatting or doing whatever needs doing.  With two babies I clock a lot of hours holding, soothing, making faces to and feeding babies.  I can always afford a break.  Plus, I have two other children to feed, clean, soothe and engage with.  This is a lot of other people’s needs to attend to and therefor I NEVER DENY HELP.
Also with help usually comes some kind of companionship, even if it’s just for the 20 minutes someone is over dropping something off.  Which leads me to my next survival strategy:
Survival Strategy Number 2:  Get a witness.
I tell you, a horrible, hard-as-hell day alone with all these kids can really make me crack.  I’ll be one the phone to my mom or husband by 1pm crying about how this baby or that baby won’t nap, or how this boy or that boy keeps screaming, but if someone is around watching it all go down somehow it makes things less stressful.  Perhaps that’s because that person is usually around to help out (see Survival Strategy Number 1) but really, even if that other person is just sitting on a couch drinking tea I feel a relief just knowing I’m not alone, and by alone I mean alone physically – there is another person there.  And perhaps more importantly I’m getting a witness, a person who can really see why I’m starting to crack.  Why does that make a girl feel better, even empowered, just knowing someone understands?  I don’t know.  But it does.
So, this is kind of fun to think of these survival strategies and put them down in writing.  I may do some more.  But if you have ever been either a helper or witness in my daily life here I hope this lets you know how meaningful it is to me and my family.  Your efforts, no matter how tiny, reap loving and beautiful rewards.  Thank you, thank you!

A note about nature show night.

Here’s a sliver from a nice email from Jessica about how bedtime went tonight (I’m working late). The bird’s nest, btw, is a pile of blankets and pillows behind the couch.

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We watched nature shows in the Bird’s Nest on my iPad. More dinosaur CGI. GOod stuff. While i was getting the girls into their pajamas Art called upstairs to say, “Mama! Mama! You have to see this! They just said that T-Rex’s eyeball was as big as a SOCCER BALL!”

I left for work just as Jessica was feeding a baby and reading books to the boys in the bird’s nest. She really does work SUPER HARD.

Josh just shows up sometimes.

Every once in a while Uncle Josh just shows up. I guess he just pulls off his route home from work to come and chuck the boys around for an hour. Well, that’s what he did today and they had a good time. I was nursing the girls when he arrived and I sent him right upstairs to wake up the boys. Then they went on to play with the parachute i borrowed from music class, jump over things in the basement and do several rounds of hide and seek. Then just as quick as he came, he was gone. What a lovely surprise!

Netta and Bailey could be married to someone one day.

I’m sitting here editing photos from a wedding I shot and am just realizing that they may be married one day. Doh! I’m starting to realize they are daughters and I feel differently about them. It’s weird. I don’t want to say more protective, but I am sorta. I was changing Bailey’s diaper yesterday at IKEA and found myself wanting to protect her privacy in a way. It felt mildly ridiculous and certainly something I’ve never done with the boys. Weird!

What’s happens at night in our house.

Our girls, amazingly, sleep through the night. At least in the official interpretation of ‘sleep through the night’, which I think is 6 or more consecutive hours. It’s an absolute gift they do and something we try to never take for granted. Arthur was a horrible sleeper and, as you can imagine, was an extra special shock to our 30+ years or sleeping as long as we wanted. I remember fearing the twins for that reason alone. No sleep. It’s just really hard to be a normal human when you’re up at night a gazillion times, and we were with Art. And, as if hitting some sort of one in a million jackpot (rather, two in a million), these girls sleep. BOTH of them. And looong. They usually go down by 9 and sleep until 5, 6, or, like last night, 7:30! That’s ridiculous in my view by I’m not going to tell them.

Anyway, a ritual of sorts has evolved at night when the girls wake up. It’s usually around 5am. I’ll roll out of bed and grab whoever’s fussing and start changing her diaper. By the time Jessica wakes, pees and comes into the girls’ room I’m just about done changing the first baby. She’ll finish changing her and whisk her off downstairs to nurse. Then I’ll gently wake up the other baby.

That’s actually my favorite part, waking up a sleeping baby. They give this massive entire body stretch. Their arms curl towards their ears, their neck arches back, head twisting to the side as if they’re trying to scratch an ear on their shoulder blade. Their legs stiffen, every muscle in their little body seems to fully extend. I’ll hold her up so she can arch back all the way and I’ll wait until the stiff baby slowly turns back into a squishy one. As I change her she’ll start realizing how absolutely hungry she is and she’ll begin making little sniffs and snorts and grunts, perhaps like a starving pig would. Then I’ll bring her downstairs to join her already nursing sister.

As I come down to the bottom of the stairs Jessica looks over and sees this snorting and grunting little baby heading towards like a bullet at eye level. Jessica always smiles and we laugh a little. And then she’ll grab the baby and shoo me away back to bed and she’ll nurse and watch the Steven and Chris Show, a Canadian talk show aired in the middle of the night at some absurd hour. She Tivos it. I’ve caught myself staying downstairs a bit as I watch Steve and Chris, two gay hosts (and partners) talking about matching pillows to curtains, livening up your drab wardrobe or something else. I think Jessica once called it the Canadian version of Oprah but a lot less about Oprah.

Then, later, after returning the girls to their crib, fed and milky, Jessica snuggles back into bed. A couple hours later we’re woken up by a different child, usually Lewis, who comes wobbling into our room and wants to snuggle. “Paha, Mama, can I snuggle?” And then Art often arrives within a minute of Lewis. The four us snuggle together in our big bed for a while and then our day begins.

Anyway, that’s what happens at night in our house!