motherhood

Why does it always rain on me

August 5, 2009

why does it always rain on me

Barely halfway into the week and I’m down with a bout of the flu. Granted, it’s been that kind of week that doesn’t seem to end, as opposed to the kind of week where I try to savor every moment. God, I haven’t had one of those for a long time. These days, it’s all like “drats, it’s Monday again” followed by a dramatically anguished sigh that Shakespeare would be proud of. Or he may just roll over in his grave. Which is kinda the same thing.

But I digress. After taking a beating by motherhood (x2) for two days, I think my body has just had about enough and started to go on strike. My immune system, I think it’s gone for a holiday in the Bahamas because I’ve subjected it to too much torture. It’s probably never going to come back. So the whole of yesterday, I felt the familiar beginnings of a flu and I got more depressed than ever. My throat was on fire and I was trying to hold back the sniffles so I wouldn’t pass on the germs to the kids (and also so that I wouldn’t get nagged at for falling ill during my confinement – which is a whole different issue altogether). I was so paranoid that I was scrubbing my hands every 5 minutes like Jack Nicholson from As Good As It Gets. Yeah, I love OCD.

And the nagging. So apparently, falling ill during the confinement is like the mother of all cardinal sins because according to the Chinese, all flu is caused by wind or water or some other bizarre elements. It’s got nothing to do with say, the friggin’ H1N1 bug skulking around the country world right now, or the fact that my immunity is understandably AWOL because I’ve been pulling 23 straight all-nighters. I can’t even curse the wind because it’s wind and it would probably come back and freeze my ass off at some point in the future.

So today, the kids are at my mom’s place taking refuge while I try to sleep off this bug. It’s such an irony though. Now that they’re not with me, I miss them like crazy and I wish I wasn’t ill so I could at least smother them with kisses. That always makes me feel better.

I’m all drugged up like a junkie and in a state of delirium so this will probably not make any sense and if you’re lost, just check back tomorrow when my head is less fuzzy and my hands have stopped trembling. Hopefully.

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motherhood

I need more hands

August 4, 2009
wonder-woman

two hands ain't enough even for Wonder Woman

Yesterday marked the first day I stayed home with the kids ALONE and all I could think of the whole day was OMG THIS IS THE HARDEST THING I’VE EVER DONE. No seriously, it’s no joke. First of all, I only have 2 hands, and technically, I suppose Wonder Woman could carry a child in each hand, but for me, it’s a physical impossibility. It’s at the moments when I have 2 kids clamoring for attention that I wish I had some spare limbs sticking out from my ass.

Ever since the delivery, I’ve had help from my mom, my in-laws and even a friend who offered to watch Tru for a whole day so I could spend some time alone with Kirsten. Yesterday, I decided it was time to go it alone. Did I already say it was tough? It’s like one non-stop, never ending party.

When I was taking care of 1 kid, I thought it was hard work, but on retrospect, it’s a walk in the park and I can totally do it with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. With 2 babies, I have double the diapers to change, double the baths, double the feeds and a million times the insanity. There’s no such thing as a breather and I almost peed in my pants because I didn’t even have time to run to the toilet. Guess that’s what adult diapers are for.

I used to look at mothers who can raise multiple kids alone without and help and wonder how they do it. Perhaps they’re a new breed of X-men with extra limbs tucked neatly in their clothes or they can split themselves into two or they can move at the speed of light or they’ve got a bunch of Oompa Loompas stashed in their storeroom. But I discovered the secret yesterday and I’m going to let you in on it.

It’s just a lot of hard work. These women are superheroes not because of some secret special powers but because they’re tremendously resilient. Because they somehow find it in them to give that little bit of extra. Because they make it work. And because when all else fails, there’s always Xanax to the rescue. Or some bourbon.

For example, multitasking is a necessity. I can carry Kirsten with one hand and cook Tru’s lunch with the other. I can sing lullabies while bathing one kid. I can even blog while burping the baby. And I also learn to make use of all my body parts in ways I never thought possible. Like halfway while feeding Tru his lunch, Kirsten woke up crying for milk, so I propped her up on my leg and used my chin to hold the bottle in place so my hands were free to continue feeding Tru his porridge. Ingenius, I know.

On days like these, I just want to run and hide while sticking my fingers in my ears to drown out the screaming. I just wish I had some special powers. That would be so much easier.

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kids inc

Monkey see, monkey do

August 3, 2009

Tru’s at that age where he’s starting to pick up things faster than I can blink. And I don’t mean with his hands. He’s observing me and replicating everything that I do. It’s terribly cute but also scary as hell because I’ll be solely responsible for the way he turns out. Like if he picks his nose in public or gives some random kid a sucker punch in the nose, it’ll be all my fault (except that I NEVER pick my nose and I’m the most peacable soul around – I can’t even hurt an ant)  Now I understand why parents are the first to get blamed when kids misbehave.

It all started out pretty harmless. When I’m doing the laundry or folding the clothes, he’ll come over and try to do the same thing, except make a bigger mess, but I’m guessing he was trying to help. Or when I’m fluffing the pillows and making the bed, I’ll see him trying to imitate me. But I didn’t give that much thought either. Until this morning.

So usually the mornings are madness these days. It’s mayhem from the time we get out of bed trying to get the kids changed and fed while the husband gets ready for work. Inevitably, there’ll be some crying because I do not have enough hands to attend to the small one when I’m changing the big one and vice versa. Sometimes, when I’m washing up, both kids will be up to some mischief. So anyway, I was brushing my teeth this morning when Kirsten woke up and started screaming for milk. Next thing I know, Tru goes up to her, points his index finger at her and says “Nonononono”.

Just a little bit of background, that’s my classic move when I’m telling Tru he can’t do something like drown himself in the pond or jump off the table Superman style. I’ll do the finger wagging and say “No no”. Apparently, he’s picked it up and doing it to his sister.

The implications are huge though. Now I have to think twice about raining curses on the next imbecile driver who almost gets me killed or when I stub my little toe on the curb. In fact, I’ll have to be on my best behavior ALL THE TIME from now on. I’ll have to eat all my spinach and peas, say please and thank you and not leave all my stuff strewn around the house. When I indulge in a tub of ice-cream, I’ll have to do it late at night or hiding in the kitchen like a fugitive. See, I’d rather not be explaining why he can’t have a tub himself.

They say having kids make all your flaws glaringly obvious. I say that’s an understatement. Having kids is like taking a loudhailer and blasting out all my imperfections at the top of my lungs while driving around the neighborhood. And then having it appear on the 6 o’clock news. Only this time, my kids are going to do it for me.

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