Tag Archives: mum

Jun 09 2016
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Life

Note to Self: Where Are You?

Yesterday I blogged about owning your Supermum. Today is a post that’s been sitting in drafts for a while, and is a little more raw…

When I found out I was pregnant with the twins I got a lot of advice. Advice from people with singletons, twins, and 3+ children. The overwhelming consensus was to accept the chaos and mess for a year and just concentrate on getting through each day with some semblance of sanity intact.

But here I am, 8 months later, with what feels like more tidying and “things in their place” hangups than I did before kids. Stupid stuff like the kitchen table chairs needing to be pushed in and even; beds made; breakfast stuff put away, feeding the bunny… all of this before I’ve even had a shower or eaten my own breakfast. Those precious 30-90 minutes of morning sleep are the very time I should be prioritising myself over housework.

When did I become less important than tidying? Why does mess come before me?

I don’t know if it’s because I’m home all the time and want a bit of control in the chaos. Is my husband messier? Am I just suddenly noticing what was always there?

I resent the morning cleanup – even more so if I’m cleaning up from the night before. Recycling bottles, table mess from the Threenager’s dinner, dishes that haven’t made it to the dishwasher, random splashes and mess on the bathroom vanity. AN UNFLUSHED TOILET.

fun, friends

Smiles and laughs with amazing friends.

I don’t even feel like I can begin to change things. To prioritise myself. When almost my entire being is devoted to my children’s needs.

Part of me is tempted to return to work early, just to get back some of those simple things that so many people take for granted. Time to eat your lunch when you want to, not at 4pm when you’re ravenous but still have children crying to be picked up as you try in vain to reach for your sandwich on the table which is just…out…of…reach. Thirty quiet, uninterrupted minutes on the train to read a book. I can’t remember the last time I read something other than a supermarket catalogue…. and I love reading. Time spent doing something stimulating that doesn’t involve Lego or playing shops underneath a pile of sofa cushions.

We worked so hard to become parents – the infertility, IVF, miscarriages – and now I just want a break. Something longer than the four hours every 8 weeks I get to have my hair done. I fantasise about an entire day to myself but have no idea what I would do. I still feel utterly bound to the twins despite the fact they take a bottle and the husband says he handle all three for the day if I want to do something.

Why should I feel guilt about wanting some time to myself? It’s a cruel roundabout we sometimes put ourselves on.

So where do I start? Any advice?

 

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Jun 09 2016
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Life

Supermum

I get the “Supermum” thing a lot. It always makes me feel awkward and a bit silly because I’m really not. I’m just a mum who has moments of “super” in an otherwise fairly normal family life.

As parents (especially mums), we don’t tend to recognise or own the “super” in our everyday lives. When you’re a mother, you just get shit done. You don’t have the luxury of any time to yourself. No solo pees, no food when you actually want to eat it, no time to pluck your feral eyebrows or blowdry your hair. You have a 5 minute shower once the baby monitor goes quiet, then race to put the washing out, feed the animals, make breakfast, tidy up after the hurricane of mess your husband and child created in the six waking hours between arriving home and leaving again the next day….

I’m preaching to the choir here I know.

But last week I had a Supermum moment and dammit, I OWNED it.

Our beloved nanny (a must-have for twin families) is on holiday for a month, so I have the Threenager and bambinos solo two days a week until she gets back. I dread solo days. My anxiety starts building on Monday and by Wednesday morning I’m starting the day already on a knife-edge. My (best intentions) mantra is to just let everything go – expectations, plans, housework, mess-tolerance levels…  Some days all of the planets align and the kids are (mostly) awesome. Other days are pure hell and I start message-bombing the husband at 1pm asking when he’ll be home.

I started the day by deciding that I would just go with the flow and just roll with how things panned out… within reason obviously. I’d take a deep breath before yelling at the Threenager, and if the girls decided that catnaps were the way to go then I wasn’t going to waste 40 minutes trying to get them back down again.

And so it began. The girls’ breakfast was my usual failed attempt at trying to trick Ele into opening her mouth long enough to get a spoon in, while Soph took a few mouthfuls before starting to retch. Meanwhile, the Threenager is in the living room glued to Paw Patrol and refusing to eat his toast. Whatever… I know he’ll eat half the pantry before days end. I spend an hour getting him excited about a trip to the park which is actually just a trip to get me coffee with the bonus of a fenced playground next door.

The girls sleep…. for 30 minutes. Our new routine says 1.5 hours. FFFFAAARRRKKK.  I decide to attempt a resettle but their eyes are bugging out in their heads so I give up and start the dressing battle. Now the girls are crawling, it’s a bit like dressing an angry octopus… Times two… That insist on crawling all over each other at the same time. Five minutes later everyone is dressed. Supermum points on the board.

Getting everyone out the door probably looks like a slapstick comedy to the neighbours. It mostly is. I usually end up going back inside at least twice to grab drink bottles or jumpers or sunglasses. More than once I’ve gone out without my wallet. Most of the time I do manage to get out of the house within 10 minutes of my estimated go-time.  (We’ll just ignore the fact I don’t actually leave the driveway for another 10 minutes because the Threenager is playing hide n seek in the back seat, and one or more dummies is missing so the babies are losing their shit.)

We arrive at the cafe. Everyone is playing nice happy family. The Threenager grabs some books to read, we order, and the girls are happily chattering in their pram. I get to eat almost all of my banana bread by MYSELF!  Then it happens…

A woman and her elderly father were sitting at the next table. She leaned over and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve been watching you and your wonderfully behaved children. You are a Supermum. I couldn’t imagine getting out of the house with twins let alone three children!”  I thanked her and admitted that a lot of days didn’t go very well, but today we were rolling with whatever was thrown at us and so far it was going pretty well and I was feeling pretty “super” about it.

BOOM – Supermum-ness owned!

Sure, everything turned into a giant pile of crap at 4:30pm like it usually does, but at least I spared the husband a constantly beeping phone during his busy meeting day.

Next time you ace an outing or just get all the kids to sleep at the same time – OWN IT. Revel in your Supermum-ness. Share it on Facebook or with a cute, cuddly child pic on Instagram. Because the moment is always gone too bloody soon!

P.S: Sabrina Rogers-Anderson wrote a great post the other week about mindfulness when doing everyday tasks. She’s a fellow twin-mama and her advice to “Rock the Baby to Rock the Baby” has been added to my list of  baby-coping mantras. Worth a read if it hasn’t popped up on your Facebook feed already!

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