side effects of motherhood

February and I aren’t like the best of friends. We try to get along but it’s awkwardly cordial at best, with the possibility of being straight up dysfunctional far more often.

You always know what to expect with January. There’s the leftover high from the year-end break coupled with the start of a new year to keep things exciting but come February, it’s pretty much just a sad reminder of how much of the year you have to get through before you reach the next December.

In this particular February, I feel like I’m already redlining it two months into the new year.

It reminds me of the time I attempted to take up running like all the cool kids. Want to hear about it? Of course you do. I had decided that I was going to be the kind of person who runs. With much determination, I laced up my trainers, did my warm ups and started what was meant to be my easy 5km jog. About a minute in, all of my insides were starting to hurt. Another minute later, my lungs were on fire and I thought I was about to die. At this point, my mathematical brain got all like, “I’ve done about 200 metres out of 5000, there’s another 4800 metres to go and at this rate, I will be 100% super dead by the time I reach the end.”

That particular run didn’t last very much longer and it was probably the reason I didn’t attempt another run for the next um, 15 years. I started running again last year and I still feel the soul crushing pain about two minutes into every run. I glance at how much further I have to go and will immediately feel the need to give up on life but I’ve learnt that if I just keep going, my brain stops registering the pain after a couple more minutes.

I think Februarys are a bit like that for me. It’s that point where the routine feels like an unbearable weight and I’m not quite on my game. I’m exhausted way too early for me to plausibly make it to the end and things aren’t looking all that great. Maybe I’ll catch a second wind or maybe it’ll be one of those runs that feel painful all the way through but the only way to find out is to keep going.

Drink some water. Put on some music. Find that little bit of joy or whatever it is that adds a boost to keep those legs moving until I find my mojo.

**

On that note, Finn and Theo are the definition of best bros around here these days and watching them hang out has been asking a lot of my ovaries. These two boys have been spending hours every day just talking to each other about their secret boy stuff – adventure missions and special powers and being in their little world with very complicated rules that only the two of them understand.

They take this very seriously – there are a lot of charts and many pages with detailed descriptions of special abilities. Finn will do all the writing and then they will huddle over the pages intently like it’s their 武林秘籍.

These two have the most adorable dynamics. Occasionally Theo will yell “kor kor Finn is getting all the powers” and Finn will try to explain himself like “no, we both have the same number of powers, Theo has 5 and I have 5“; to which Theo will yell “but his powers are more powerful than mine” and Finn be will like “WHAT?? He chose those powers himself and they are the same kind of powerful and it’s all imaginary. Urgh ok ok fine we can swap powers” and Theo will nuzzle his head into Finn’s arm affectionately because he knows that a big brother like this is something special.

Sometimes I watch them together and it’s exactly how I imagined their relationship would be like and that makes me smile.

**

I realise I haven’t really talked about the little 3-day trip we took to Hong Kong Disneyland last month. It was meant to be Hayley’s first introduction to Disney and also for us to get in some quality time with the two babies.

The trip was only 72 hours but I’m glad to report that both of those things were achieved to varying degrees of success. Turns out that this baby is terrified of even the slowest baby rides and is not a fan of all rides in general. Her first ride was on the Slinky Dog Spin (a ride that’s as relaxing as it gets) and she basically lost it from that point on. The moment we started moving, she grabbed me in terror and screamed “I WANT TO GET OFF NOW!!! LET ME OOOOUUUTTTTTT!!”

I thought it was first time jitters and we managed to talk her into riding the carousel and the flying carpets, both of which ended up the same manner – with a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth. So that was that for this baby.

She’s more of a “let’s walk around and soak in the magical Disney atmosphere” kind of kid so that’s what we spent our time doing. Munching on popcorn, watching parades, and enjoying the cool Disney air. On the bright side, she was happy to chill out while the husband and I took turns to ride Big Grizzly Mountain Runaway Mine Cars 14 times one evening when it was a walk on. Also, why have I never done this ride before? It’s amazing, possibly right up there in my list of top 3 rides of all time. Disney World’s Big Thunder Mountain Railroad used to be in that spot but this is definitely better in terms of pacing, backward drops and overall fun factor.

I’ll always miss the other kids who didn’t get to go but traveling with 2 kids was almost too easy. And they got to have our attention divided by 2 instead of 5, which in terms of math is a very good thing.

It’s been two weeks since my helper came back from her holiday and I’m still basking in the luxury of having an extra pair of hands to help around the house. You know how you thought your life was hard but it suddenly gets 18,000% worse and you realize how good you’ve had it all this time. Then when it goes back to the original level of difficulty, you’re like THANK YOU GOD I WILL NEVER EVER EVER COMPLAIN AGAIN.

How amazing is it exactly? I had a nice long shower today. In the middle of the morning. Without a baby staring me down as I lathered up. Or kids banging on the door yelling for gummies “RIGHT NOW I AM SO HUNGRY!!” For a moment there, I thought I was on vacation and it was glorious.

Also, it’s such a treat to be able to put one kid to bed at a time. So relaxing. Having to get Finn and Theo and Hayley to sleep at the same time was a nightmare because this sweet baby whom I adore so much is a total diva during bedtime. Her immediate vicinity must be void of any disruptions as she partakes in her evening feed. If she hears the slightest whisper, she shrieks. If she detects someone shifting their body weight from the left side to the right, she shrieks. If someone just breathes a little deeper than usual, she will immediately be alerted to the oxygen level imbalance in the room and  yes, there will be shrieking.

Most nights, I’m pleading with Finn and Theo like “guys, please don’t talk and don’t move and try not to breathe too hard.” Who am I kidding? Asking these two to not move for 40 minutes is like asking them to donate both kidneys and an eyeball. They can’t even last 2 seconds without loudly whispering “mommy mommy tomorrow let’s eat popcorn it’s so delicious!”

“SSSHHHHHHHH if you can be quiet until baby Hayley sleeps I might consider it. Now just shush!!” I whisper back too loudly, causing the baby to unlatch and frown. She had been side eyeing me with disapproval the whole time and she needed to let me know this was too much.

Five minutes go by in relative peace, with the exception of two coughs and a spasmic leg shift.

“Mommy I need to poop!” Theo announces triumphantly. He had taken five whole minutes to cultivate his need to poop and it was a success. Around here, poop is a treasured free pass to party during bedtime and he celebrates by doing his nudist victory lap around the living room.

I try not to begrudge my kids their right to poop but this was a most inopportune time. By the time I washed him, chased his naked bottom around the house and got him changed, baby Hayley would be back at level 0 on her falling asleep scale.

Phew, glad those days are over.

But there’s one good thing to have come out of this experience. Having spent three weeks doing their share of chores, Truett and Kirsten have gotten used to the routine and they’ve continued to help out around the house with packing and cleaning and vacuuming and I JUST LET THEM. They now feel responsible for the cleanliness of the house, so much so that when they saw Finn and Theo dropping a trail of cookies in the bedroom, they hastily um, reaccommodated them to the deck chairs outside and made them eat their cookies by the pool. They were like “sit here and eat!! Don’t come back in until you’re done with your cookies understand?”

Can’t say that I wasn’t extremely pleased.

I have a confession to make: I’m really, really enjoying having 4 kids.

It’s such an obnoxious statement, making it sound like it’s a piece of cake. Which it isn’t. Unless you mean a piece of doo-doo cake, then well, um, fair enough.

Parenting 4 kids is a lot like standing in the middle of a matador ring with a herd of wild bulls charging at you (and also each other) and your job is to make sure that everyone ends the day with nobody hurt or bleeding. Some days, we find a rhythm and it’s almost beautiful to watch, but more often than not, I’m just holding on till I hear the bedtime bell ring and I can herd them all off to bed.

Except weekend mornings. Weekends are like a breath of fresh air. Everyone’s happier, the kids are less fight-y, and we have a Saturday morning routine where all the kids tumble around on our bed playing crazy games for an hour. Also, now that Theo is bigger, he’s so pleased to be actively participating in the mayhem. On these sort of mornings, my heart is full and the madness of the week seems worth it. I mean, how did we luck out so good?

A typical Saturday morning conversation goes like this:

Me: SERIOUSLY, THESE BABIES ARE SO CUTE I CAN’T TAKE IT.

Husband: I think it’s your ovaries that can’t take it. Want to have some more?

Me: We already have some more. One more coming soon.

Husband: We can go for maybe one or two more. Two more girls, round it off to 7.

Me: That would be cute…OI, STOP IT!! No more, I can’t have any more. We’re done here.

***

In an ideal world, we’d be basking in bliss all weekend long, but with 4 kids, there is no such thing as an ideal world, so come Sunday morning, we got served a nice, large slice of doo-doo cake.

Baby Theo started vomiting, followed by a fever, then Finn got all lethargic and ill, then by the evening, both Truett and Kirsten came down with a temperature, accompanied by all the signs of stomach flu – diarrhoea, vomiting, cramps, the whole works. Which also translates into too many bedsheets changes and super gross mop ups. The baby will poop and it will trigger Tru’s vomiting, which will make Kirsten gag and run.

The downside of having so many kids in such close quarters is that viruses like hanging around here too. We try everything from essential oils to immunity-building supplements, but the potent viruses still party like it’s 1999.

So on this fine Monday, we have 4 sick kids slumming it out here making me barf bag presents and I’m not sure if this whole 4+1 kids gig was such a good idea.

Yeah, ok, still is.

So guess why this baby is, as we say, happy like bird?

Baby Theo has finally discovered the freedom that is walking on his own two feet. Ok, not entirely. He still requires the use of walking aids, but he’s taken a few steps on his own and is feeling rather pleased with himself.

I think he feels like a rockstar having so many people cheer him on even though he doesn’t make it past 3 steps before falling hard on his chubby cushy bottom.

The important thing is to get up and try again. Which is easier when you have big brothers (and sister!) who take turns to walk with you.

Big brothers make the best walking aids :)

A video posted by Daphne (@daphneling) on Sep 8, 2015 at 9:01pm PDT

Baby steps, y’all!!

I had some snuggle time with my big boy Truett two nights ago and as he turned to give me a goodnight kiss, he jabbed me in the ribs so hard with his pointy, bony big boy elbow I almost passed out. This boy is all tall and lanky and gangly right now.

“Ok, night! I’m super tired, you can go now.”

“Hey, talk to mommy for just 10 minutes, I want to hear all about your day.”

*grunt mmmmhrrrmm grunt*

That was it. All 2 minutes and 12 seconds of snuggle time and I was being unceremoniously dismissed because my super snuggly services were no longer required. I hung around for a while and he was out like a light in another minute or so.

When Truett was really small, he would take an hour to fall asleep and I spent many nights (and days) thinking of how nice it would be if my baby could fall asleep in a solid minute. As a newly minted zombie parent, having a baby that could fall asleep quickly was like finding a unicorn who could shoot rainbows out of its ears. And I was hot on a unicorn hunt. Please God, if I could ask for just one thing, make my baby fall asleep in a minute. People say be careful what you wish for, because you might not want it once you get it. I hate it so much when these cliches turn out to be true, but GAH, here we are.

I normally handle these sort of moments quite well but I started getting all teary. I blame this video that I watched earlier in the day where women talked about what they would do if they were young again. It really gave me the feels – it’s sweet and wistful and nostalgic all at the same time.

“What I wouldn’t give for an extra second of cuddling my babies before they became too big to hold,” said one of these sweet old ladies.

This would totally be me in another 20 years. Saying the exact same words.

Suddenly, I really missed Truett. It’s strange because he was right there and I adore Truett the big boy, but I missed Truett my first baby, with his squishy hamburger face and tubby fingers. That baby is all gone. :(

So I stuck around next to him and ran my fingers through his hair, thinking of the time I ran my fingers through his hair as he he fell asleep on my chest for two hours one rainy, thundery afternoon 6 years ago. He was the perfect size for cuddling and I could hold him for as long as I wanted. Now I’m watching him get almost too big to hold and I’d probably suffocate if he fell asleep on my chest for two hours but I’m going to squeeze in a few more years of cuddling until it gets too weird to do it. TRU, I’M GOING TO CUDDLE YOU WHETHER YOU WANT ME TO OR NOT. THIS IS NOT OPEN FOR DISCUSSION.

I’m also going to hold my other 3 babies while I still can right now and they will have no say in this matter.

Look at this I-could-use-a-cuddle face. I’m going to look back at this face and cry.

Be all in while I’m still in.

PS. And to my kids, just so we’re clear, you guys will need to have babies (no, not now!! eventually!!!) because if I can’t cuddle you at 30, I’m going to need to cuddle your babies. This is also non negotiable.

When people ask me what life with 4 kids is like, I don’t quite know what to tell them.

Depending on how well my day went, I tell them about happy baby faces and the kind of fun conversations you only get to have when you’re interacting with 4 developing little brains. Sometimes I tell them about my magical bag of laundry that fills itself up every morning like a gift that doesn’t stop giving. Sometimes I tell them about the beautiful moments of bliss where no one is whining at anyone. Sometimes I tell them about the hurricane that…you know what?

Here. This is what my life looks like.