Paranoia

So much time has passed since I last wrote, it would be impossible to catch you up in full. 

The overview---I feel incredibly old.  My mom turned 50 this month, my babies are 5, almost 6, months old and I am 30 in about 60 days.  It’s not so much that I feel “old” so to speak, as just extremely aware of age and time limitations (mortality), in general.  For the past 30 years, or at least solid decade, time has seemed to tick off day by day and no one seemed any older or different.  The past year has brought about a change in my perception that truly saddens me.  I’m not afraid of death or dying, or anything like that—nor is it something I want to talk about amiably as if I look forward to it or meeting my maker.  The mere thought of one day not being there for my kids sickens me.  The idea of my mom not being there one day for me to pick up the phone in call 20 times over the bumper stick on the car in front of me or the mom fight I had in BabyGap—yes, that happened, sadly.   Now, I know that 30 isn’t old by any measure, nor is 50.  It’s just the idea of borrowed time really—which every day is, that scares the ever living shit out of me.  Not the moving on part, but the hurt of what is left behind and what those you leave have to go through.  This whole idea has really toyed with my emotions in the past few months.  Nothing makes you feel more mortal than having children and watching them grow so quickly. 

From one day to the next they are ever changing and constantly learning and absorbing everything around them.  They are both rolling over like crazy.  Olivia uses it as a means of transportation to get across the room or get to a toy.  Oliver, flips compulsively just because he can, but then becomes infuriated because that is all he can do.  They have started interacting with each other—cooing and touching and grabbing one another’s hands, heads, feet—whatever they can get a hold of.  Olivia has decided that spitting (thanks to my dad) and hitting (I mean full out bitch slapping, open palmed with a scowl on her face) her mom are fun things to do—immediately followed by laughing.  Oliver has discovered tantrums and sticking his tongue out at you with really no purpose other than he realized that he has a tongue.  He also found his belly—which he stares at curiously all day.   They are both trying their very best to sit, crawl, stand and walk with help, climb, jump, talk, you name it.  They know there is so much that they should be able to and want to do and their little bodies just won’t let them yet.  

They have also gotten an extreme Mommy attachment.  It starts about 8:30 at night.  Ken gets a good hour or so with them of fun and laughing, then it all goes down hill.  Absolute screaming bloody murder, shrieking, crying, kicking, arching, fits, until I take them.  Instantly, they calm down and go to sleep.  If there were only one--no problem.  I could hold them all night, but with two, it starts a juggling act.  I calm one down, Ken takes the other, that one starts crying, I give him the happy one, take the crying one, calm that one down, the other starts crying---it would go on all night.  The saddest one in the whole charade is Ken, who tries so hard and does so good with them, and just wants to hold his babies at the end of the day---but they won't have it.  Mommy and only mommy.

This month has brought all sorts of new challenges, but also a sense of peace with myself.  Up until this month, I had a nanny that helped a few days a week.   With her leaving, I have for the past few weeks (with the exception of the days I am with my mom), managed them both alone.  WOW!  Talk about a busy day…  We are still working out the kinks, but we are managing—not just managing but semi-thriving.  They are happy and healthy, and I am still sane, or at least as much as can be expected or I ever really was. 

I have had to accept that I have no control.   I have no schedule, and I will be nowhere on time (like I ever was…).  I will not shower before noon.  I won’t eat before lunchtime, and coffee pumps through my veins (yes, once again). 

There are some things I missed the memo on---8:30 bedtime.  Hasn’t happened once.  Getting rid of the swaddle at 2 months.  Yea---really screwed that one up.  Our pediatrician told us it was fine until they could roll over in it as long as they were small enough for it.  Well, I have REALLY small babies, and they starting rolling over proficiently at 5 months.  Whatever.  I got 5 months with at least 8 hours of sleep every night.  I’d do it again.

Then…according to the bat s*** crazy woman in Pottery Barn today, I missed the one on how I was going to mentally damage my children by having them in an over under stroller at the mall because the lower baby (who was sleeping, by the way) wasn’t stimulated enough and would gain a complex about being a lesser person because they were “on bottom.”  She was literally yelling in Pottery Barn.  What is wrong with people???  A- I am not going to intentionally damage my children any more that my parents did to me or yours did to you, or any parent does.  B-  MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!  C-  If you don’t have twins…don’t comment, ever.  You don’t know what it’s like, and you can’t compare two kids of two different ages. 

On another note, what would be the appropriate ‘polite’ amount of time to have to stand to let strangers coo, attempt to touch, and talk to your infants?  Babies in themselves are a stranger magnet, you immediately get an “Awe! Look…”  However, when they realize that it is twins, it’s like a freak show they can’t move away from.  I have, without exaggeration, been caught, stuck talking to total strangers answering questions like “which one is older?,” “can you tell them apart?” “are they identical?” “they must look like their dad” “are they small for their age?” “do you have help” (what if I don’t?? are you volunteering?)…I could keep going.  They are the same questions over and over again, and I am not a rude person, I don’t want to be mean, but it takes long enough to get in and out of a store, just unloading and loading a stroller and two babies.  Give me a break!  And don’t touch my kids! --This is what the mom fight was over.  In the middle of Baby Gap, a mother let her child try to climb in the stroller with my babies, then yelled at me when I asked him not to.  Control your child.   Yea, I’m a little skittish about other kids getting in their faces (or in their stroller), but rightfully so.  I have developed so many more pet peeves than I ever thought I would have, about things that I never in a million years thought would ever even cross my mind.

I’m not saying I do everything right, or anything at all—I’m just winging it, and praying it all works out, but I’m not raining on anyone else’s parade either.

Lately, I have also been having this delusional reoccurring dream/panic.  The dream is that I have one of the O's in the bed with us (which I never do), then I actually wake up in the middle of the night, reach over for them and they are gone.  No where to be found.  I feel around the bed, throw back the comforter and sheets, move pillows, make Ken roll over.  They are no where.  My heart feels like it is jumping out of my chest.  I am patting the bed all over feeling for them, no where...  I go up stairs, look in their cribs, and they are both there, sound asleep.  

Bottom line---as a mom, I have become so much more relaxed about so many things, but overall I have mainly just become a paranoid freak that won’t leave my babies alone with anyone.  Yes, I have issues.  Acknowledging them is the first step-don’t expect anymore any time soon.