A Day at the Circus – Life with 5-Week-Old Twiblings

Ever wonder what life with twins would be like?  Double the fun?  Double the pleasure?  Well, the following is a true-account – like anyone could possibly make this up – of a random 24-hour period of parenting five-week-old twiblings and their two-year-old big sister. Oh, and our definition of “twiblings” is one biological child and one adopted child, born within 2 days of each other.  And yes, you’re not the first to think we’re crazy.

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The performers under this Big Top include the following:

Mommy – myself

Daddy – my co-Ringmaster and calmer half

Bean – two-year-old big sister

BG – baby girl

BB – baby boy

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Scene opens on a dark living room lit only by the flickering light of the television re-playing “Big Bang Theory” seasons on a continuous loop.  See exhausted Mommy dozing on couch, awaking to sound of crying infant.

2:10am – feed BG, change diaper (twice)

2:45am – feed BB, change diaper

3:10am – Mommy resumes cat nap

4:45am – wake up Daddy for his shift

5:03am – wake up Daddy, again

5:08am – Mommy sleeps

8:10am – awoken by Bean screaming her wake-up bellows; attempt to return to sleep

8:18am – give up and get up; find Daddy in the kitchen with Bean in high chair, BB in bouncy chair, BG in baby bucket on floor (re-purposed laundry-type container from Ikea); move BB to rocker in living room and take BG from bucket and feed

8:30am – overhear Daddy trying to convince Bean to eat breakfast

8:33am – Chuckles the cat throws up on carpet

8:34am – Bean turns fussing into meltdown; Daddy gives up and releases her from the kitchen

8:36am – BB wakes up in rocker; lets us know he’s starving now; Daddy preps bottle; I rock BB with big toe while continuing to feed BG

8:37am – Bean announces she pooped (without going to the potty)

8:38am – Daddy takes Bean to the bathroom and cleans her up

8:39am – I put half-fed BG down in rocker; pick up screaming BB and change diaper

8:41am – Bean all clean now; Daddy feeds BB; I resume feeding BG

8:55am – Bean requests a tissue; refuses to walk by cat puke on carpet

8:56am – I finish feeding BG

9:01am – I bribe Bean into finishing breakfast or no pool today

9:02am – recall I never changed BG’s diaper; change diaper; put happy (and grateful) BG back in rocker

9:03am – resume feeding Bean; start to wash dishes and tidy kitchen; quickly abandon and clean up cat puke instead

9:10am – Bean requests Elmo on TV; request denied; screaming ensues; manage to redirect toddler angst with reading books on couch

9:20am – peace ensues; babies fed, Bean reading, Daddy reading news; I grab breakfast and check email

9:33am – take continued peaceful opportunity to set up sewing machine; need to sew two straight lines; bobbin empty at half-way point; review manual for how to re-thread bobbin

9:44am – request from Bean for dancing; abandon sewing; turn on current favorite, “Mamma Mia,” and commence day’s first Tire the Toddler Out (TTO) activity with living room dancing

9:55am – prep Bean for pool with potty-time, dress in swim diaper and swimsuit, prepare and pack snack and water for her, water for me, get in own swimsuit, get towels and change of clothes, load up stroller, walk to pool

10:10am – arrive at pool; “swim” with Bean (second TTO activity)

10:45am – get out of pool; change Bean into dry clothes; dry off self

10:55am – walk over to playground; let Bean play; chat with other mommies

11:10am – load up stroller with Bean, snacks, water, and make sure we have our towels, suits, etc.; walk back home

11:20am – return home; Daddy feeding BG; BB sleeping in rocker

11:22am – unpack stroller; head off to take quick shower

11:25am – Bean joins me in the bathroom to play with the shower curtain; hands me toys to play with; helps me put lotion on my legs

11:50am – Daddy changes BG diaper; I take over BG feeding; Daddy takes Bean to kitchen for lunch

11:57am – BB wakes up fussing; Daddy changes BB diaper and puts BB back in rocker; I continue to feed BG and rock BB with my foot; Bean has another meltdown in kitchen and refuses to eat; Daddy takes her to bedroom for a nap; refuses nap so returns to kitchen for lunch

12:04pm – BG falls asleep with bottle in mouth; I change BG diaper again; put her in rocker

12:11pm – BB and BG start stirring; I sing a few rounds of “Soft Kitty” while double rocking; they start to fall back asleep

12:27pm – BB and BG asleep; I overhear Daddy playing rhyming games with Bean in the kitchen; grab moment to skim next chapter in “Twin Sleep” book (suggests keeping sleep log, but the thought of adding a sleep log to our existing poop/feed log is too exhausting at this stage… will log later)

12:30pm – Daddy wipes down Bean; puts her down for a nap; does quick in clean up of kitchen and high-chair (in prep for next meal)

12:55pm – Mommy and Daddy doze in living room (cats, too)

2:15pm – wake up; check email; place order for third snot-sucker on Amazon (no sharing)

2:45pm – re-attempt to re-thread bobbin; re-review manual

2:50pm – BG wakens; Daddy diapers and feeds her

2:53pm – BB wakens; I abandon bobbin (again); get bottle and feed BB

3:10pm – change BB diaper (twice); BB resumes eating

3:35pm – put content BB in rocker; wake up Bean from nap

3:42pm – pick up non-content BB again

3:43pm – read “Ernie’s Big Mess” to Bean while consoling BB

3:47pm – re-read “Ernie’s Big Mess” to Bean (sigh)

4:03pm – put BB and BG down in rockers

4:04pm – read “Elmo’s Nursery Rhymes” with Bean (reading Cookie Monster’s Pat-a-Cake page, twice)

4:10pm – read “Barnyard Dance” while Bean acts it out

4:17pm – dig through Bean’s toy bin for missing Tigger figure (no dice)

4:23pm – BB and BG wake up; Daddy and I got to kitchen to prep bottles; ignore towering pile of dirty dishes

4:24pm – Bean announces she has to use the potty; abandon bottle and run to address potty needs

4:26pm – finish with potty needs; grab bottle from the kitchen; scoop up screaming BB and feed him

4:34pm – Bean hands me “Miss Spider’s Tea Party” to read; sits next to me and BB; asks for water; I ask her to wait a few minutes (difficult lesson to learn)

4:47pm – carry dozing BB to kitchen; get requested ice water for Bean

4:49pm – change BB diaper

4:53pm – swaddle BB and put down for nap

5:08pm – phone rings; Bean starts to squeeze Hug-Me-Elmo to get him to sing; I ask her to do something quiet while I’m on the phone and babies are trying to sleep (another hard lesson to learn)

5:15pm – finish with phone call; Daddy finishes feeding BG; changes her diaper; puts her down for a nap

5:16pm – fix Bean’s water bottle as it leaked all over me and the couch while I was on the phone

5:18pm – ask Bean to help me clear a foot path in the living room and put away piles of books, animals, a tea set, a tricycle, blocks, plastic people, and play food

5:45pm – I resume bobbin threading; re-thread needle; resume sewing straight lines

6:00pm – Daddy asks what I’m sewing (hearing me curse under my breath as I re-read the manual, yet again).  “I’m sewing a toddler pillow.  I’m just cutting an adult pillow in half and sewing them up again; really simple.  Plus it’s cheaper than spending $30 on a silly little toddler pillow.”

6:05pm – Daddy takes Bean outside in garden to play (third TTO activity); I could finish sewing or start on dishes; sewing wins

6:13pm – finish sewing my two “straight” lines; I check out my work, uneven, dropped stitches everywhere and my “straight” lines are actually zig-zag

6:17pm – put away sewing machine

6:24pm – complete Amazon purchase of new toddler pillow and case

6:54pm – stick my head outside to watch Bean watering our grass with the hose (under Daddy’s supervision)

7:15pm – Daddy and Bean come in; Daddy gives Bean a bath; Bean comes into the living room for her nightly toga-towel show

7:22pm – Daddy showers; I put Bean in her high chair; prepare little pizzas and listen for baby bellows; try to explain cooking time to Bean who wants her pizza NOW

7:37pm – BB wakes up; I prepare bottle; Daddy sits in kitchen with Bean waiting on pizzas

7:38pm – I feed BB

7:55pm – change BB diaper; resume feeding BB

8:15pm – finish feeding BB; put down in rocker; wake up BG for feeding

8:19pm – overhear Daddy giving Bean lessons on how to eat pizza, “No licking it!  It’s not ice cream!”  (Bean laughs)  “See, isn’t that better?  You are now an official pizza eater.”  (pause)  “Cheerios don’t belong on pizza!”  (Bean laughs, again)  “See, this is how a baby dinosaur eats pizza!”  (whatever works)

8:30pm – BB fussy; Daddy finishes with dinner and wipes down Bean; Daddy picks up BB; Bean goes and gets her baby doll

8:31pm – Bean announces she’s “nursing” and lifts up her shirt for her baby doll; then squinches her face and says, “Fussy,” and grabs the bottle instead (mimicry, indeed)

8:37pm – story time with Daddy, Bean and BB in the recliner; I change BG’s diaper

8:38pm – resume feeding BG

8:45pm – Louie the cat comes through screaming for dinner

8:47pm – finish feeding BG; put her down in the rocker; feed the cats

8:50pm – do quick pick-up of toys and books (more for safety than aesthetics)

8:56pm – take dozy BB from Daddy; Daddy takes Bean to go get ready for bed (brush teeth, get pajamas, etc.)

8:57pm – change BB diaper

8:53pm – hand BB off to Daddy; grab BG; traipse back down hall to Bean’s room for nightly family sing-along (“She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain,” three verses, “Old MacDonald,” three verses, “Row Row,” and “Twinkle Twinkle”); kisses for all

9:10pm – put babies back in rockers

9:14pm – I heat up dinner and attempt to eat

9:20pm – BB hungry; put dinner down; go get bottle; feed BB

9:24pm – Bean bellows (we tell her to go to sleep)

9:48pm – change BG diaper

9:50pm – all three start settling down; finish snarfing (cold) dinner

10:01pm – BG fussy; wants to be held

10:09pm – BG falls asleep in my arms; put back in rocker

10:25pm – BG fussy again; try feeding, but she’s not interested; wants to wiggle

10:35pm – BG finally eats

10:45pm – BG done with eating; Daddy takes her from me and puts her in the rocker

11:05pm – Mommy dozes on couch

12:35am – BB grumbling; I get up to get bottle; Daddy heads off to bed

12:37am – feed BB; change diaper; re-swaddle and put in crib

1:33am – BG grumbling; I get bottle; feed; change diaper; re-swaddle and put in crib

2:00am – Mommy dozes on couch

2:12am – BB fusses

2:16am – move BB from crib to rocker; rock with finger while lying on couch

2:21am – change BB diaper; feed BB

2:50am – re-swaddle; put BB back down in crib

2:54am – fussing continues; move BB back to rocker; rock with finger while lying on couch

2:59am – BB asleep; Mommy dozes

4:00am – wake up Daddy for his shift; head off to bed

***

So… who’s coming to visit first?

Nesting Habits: From Knitting to Papier Mâché, and all the Crazies in Between

Two years ago, when we were waiting for our daughter to be born (and adopted), I was hit with the nesting bug, but never got the stereotypical knitting-bug like some folks do.  Two years earlier I’d gotten a minor knitting bug (no connection to nesting, just a temporary crafty-bug) and everyone in the family had gotten a scarf; but I quickly learned that scarf-shapes were pretty much the pinnacle of my knitting abilities.  Hence the skeins of yarn still waiting to be used, four years later.  However, during this awaiting-parenthood period, while foregoing the knitting frenzies, I did go through a mass of mildly crazed sewing projects; from multiple quilts, to baby blankets, cloth diapers, crib rail covers, coasters, and even some attempted swaddles and sleepers. Then one night, as I was between sewing projects and devouring parenting books, I was chatting with a girlfriend who was coordinating an event for an animal group and we were discussing possible centerpieces; and we came up with papier mâché animals.  Suddenly, all of my crazies were focused on thinking about how to make a papier mâché pig.  That was all it took.  And in my manic, nesting mode, I took it on as a challenge.

One balloon, two toilet paper rolls, a pile of newspaper, printing paper, and a quick Google search on making your own paste a home, and I was whipping together my first papier mâché pig.  And if I do say so myself, he came out pretty damn cute!  (My friend ended up doing something different for the centerpieces, but for my spastic nesting needs, this filled the gap quite nicely and the pig remains on my daughter's bookcase two years later.)

Some friends said the nesting bug barely ever hit them, and they were racing at the end to get the nursery decorated, the crib put together and figure out the diaper genie.  On the other hand, some friends started nesting as soon as the stick turned pink and never rested until the kid left for college.  To each his, or her, own, I say (I mean, it's not like folks in papier mâché houses can throw stones, right?).

But now, with our pregnancy, and us expecting number two, I was curious if the nesting crazies would take over as they had the first time.  And the answer is “not completely.”  And there are two very good reasons for that: I’m pregnant and perpetually exhausted, and I have a two-year-old who sucks out any remaining energy the baby hasn’t already absconded with.

However, while the nesting crazies didn’t hit me with the gusto that they did pre-kids, they did hit… eventually.  And around week 24, I finally got the nursery in order, replete with Pooh and Tigger decals, changing station, crib set up, and all the organized-by-age-range, washed and folded baby clothes.  Whew!

I had a minor brush with some sewing bugs along the way, but other than a cover for my body pillow, nothing else ever got off the ground.

Then around week 30, the papier mâché bug hit again and I suddenly decided that I was going to finally make something of those moving boxes I’d been saving for almost a year.  And for one full week, I was all about crafting a papier mâché kitchen.  I don’t know where it came from, but like many fellow nesters can attest to, the driving compulsion to do this NOW was overwhelming and all-consuming.  Plus, I figured post-baby I’d never have the energy; though it's not like I was brimming with energy currently, but the nesting crazies can help dispel any pesky truths that get in the way of "reality".

I started by cutting and taping everything (including covering up the words on the boxes).  Then I tried different layouts and finally decided where I wanted things (sink, stove, microwave, shelves, etc.).

Then I used papier mâché to help give it some form and strength it needed – especially with a two-year-old’s curiosity and Godzilla-like tendencies.

Then, with a little paint and some handy stamps, I added the finishing touches.

And while it definitely looks home-made, she’s only two and has yet to feel embarrassed by her mother’s not-quite-successful crafty attempts.

Everything, other than the metal bowl that I used for the sink, was made from boxes or stuff I grabbed out of the recycling bin.  But I will add that while using bottle caps for the stove and microwave buttons was a great use of recycled materials, they lasted about 3 minutes once the two-year-old discovered them.  Two days later, after foolishly trying to re-glue them repeatedly, I gave up and painted on the buttons.  Lessons learned.

The last pre-birth nesting-craze to hit, was my sudden desire to put the two-year-old in swim lessons.  With a mere four weeks to go, I felt a bit of panic in squeezing them in, but squeeze I did.  I’ve heard from other moms expecting their second that this is not an uncommon reaction.  So at any given time, somewhere in the world, there are many 8-month-preggos bobbing around in pools with willing and less-than-willing toddlers learning to blow bubbles.  So, whether our daughter masters the doggy paddle, or we just have some fun mommy-and-me time, I figure all the squeezing was worth it.

As I was mulling over the nesting crazies, mine and other tales I'd heard of (many involved cleaning frenzies that would make any OCD sufferer proud, including using toothbrushes to clean grout, simonizing the washing machine, and wiping down the walls of the nursery until the wallpaper starts to disintegrate), out of curiosity I Googled "nesting habits" and found this from Britannica.com:

Some nests are lined with small stones, and others are built of dirt or mud with or without plant material. Sticks, leaves, algae, rootlets, and other plant fibres are used alone or in combination. Some... seek out animal materials such as feathers, horsehair, or snakeskin. The nest materials may be held together by weaving, sewing, or felting the materials themselves or with mud or spider webs. Swifts use saliva to glue nest materials together and to attach the nest to the supporting structure.

So maybe my sewing, swimming and papier mâché crazies aren't that... well, crazy.  I'm not obsessed with whether I can see my face in our washing machine's spin cycle, nor am I nesting with algae, snagging spider webs or spitting on things.  All in all, I think we're doing okay.  Now, how about some papier mâché sleepers?!?

War & Pees

Potty training.  It’s not something I looked forward to.  Although as my daughter approached her second birthday, I did reach out to friends who’d been through it to see what recommendations they had.  Several of them recommended the online “3 day potty training method”, so eventually I logged on and bought the e-book. I read through it, and took special note of the “supplies” section, buying almost everything that she listed; which included the world’s tiniest underpants, an Elmo potty “with real flushing sounds!,” several books with “potty” and “poop” in the title, and even one called “Big Girl Panties,” that my husband refused to read more than once.  But that’s where things stopped.

To actually commit to starting potty training I needed a push.  Two months after my daughter’s second birthday, with the birth of our second child coming in just two more months’ time, and a precious three-day weekend looming, my husband and I agreed that this was the push we needed.  And despite hating to give up a three-day weekend, I figured that I’d rather not have two kids in diapers, if I could avoid it.  At least that was my thinking at the time.  So, prep we did.

Well, “prep” may be a loose term.  The morning of day 1, Daddy was sitting in the living room reading the book (finally); but in fairness he was the calm patient one throughout the entire three-day ordeal.  And I use “ordeal” in all its definitions and synonyms, to include: “a very unpleasant and prolonged experience,” as well as “painful experience, trial, tribulation, test, nightmare, trauma, baptism of fire, hell, hell on earth, misery, trouble, difficulty, torture, torment, and agony.”  Yup, pretty much summed it up for me.

What I had not fully comprehended, and maybe it was after the “supplies” section of the book where I got sidetracked, was the true commitment to this project.  It’s not just about piles of daily laundry or giving up three days of your life – although that is highly stressed throughout the book, and rightly so.  Spending every 10-15 minutes of the wakeful day saying, “Tell Mommy or Daddy if you have to go potty,” leaves little time for phone calls, internet shopping, or even cooking.

But, once those three days of seclusion are done, then the real “fun” begins.  And I found that the seclusion just dragged on and on for me.  For the next seven days I remained secluded within the house, asking every 10-15 minutes, “Tell Mommy if you have to go potty.”  Dealing with lots of accidents, some successes, and trying to keep my happy face on regardless of what it was.  It was exhausting and I felt like I was swimming in the sea of “ordeal” synonyms.

I finally reached out to other moms to ask, “When can I ever leave the house again?”  And quite simply they said, “Leave now!”  Essentially accidents happen, so travel prepared, but otherwise resume your normal life.  I did so with great trepidation, for some reason, but I did it none-the-less.  And you know what?  We all survived!  The earth didn’t swallow us whole, no one pointed and laughed at the mommy carrying her travel potty, in fact, nothing happened at all; including no accidents!

I will say that on day 8, we upped the ante (as all my girlfriends suggested and the book recommended, but we hadn’t yet employed) and added the sweet incentive of chocolate chips (known as “bips” in our house) for successful potty trips.  And the effect was practically instantaneous.  From that day forward, we never had a “wakeful” accident again.  And four days later, she even used the travel potty during a play date.  I was as proud as a potty-training-mommy peacock, let me tell you!

I won’t share all of the gory details, but we've been at it now for about 25 days and suffice it to say that while we are far from perfect yet, we are seeing enough progress so as to not quit.  Nighttime accidents are still a factor, so after three weeks we decided to use “nighttime panties” (diapers) with hopes that eventually she’ll wake up dry and we can ditch them as well.

So, I can’t comment yet on whether this was a good idea or a bad idea, in regards to prepping for the new baby.  But like most life lessons, that will come after the fact.  But for now, we’re doing our best to resume a normal life, continue with our doling out “two bips!” and doing our family “happy hops” for successful potty trips, and doing our best to go a full 24-hours without discussing our daughter’s latest potty successes.  Oh, sorry, guess I’ll have to start that one tomorrow.

I Thought I Had Mono... and Other Stupidities

Finding out you're pregnant, five years after medical experts around the world told you it was almost an impossibility, plus being solidly in your 40s, results in a little more than just morning sickness and exhaustion; try basic incomprehension. We had been in Jordan for about two months and had just spent the weekend traipsing all about Petra.  So, when I felt exhausted and slightly nauseous, I blamed it on the over-exertion.  Of course, when I still felt that way five, even seven, days later, I did think it was a little odd.  And naturally, my brain went exhaustion + nausea = mono.  Never once did it occur to me that pregnancy might be the cause.

Luckily, my husband is a smart smart man.  Of course, when he said, “Maybe you’re pregnant,” I snorted and rolled my eyes derisively.

Two days later he came home with a pregnancy test he’d bought at the pharmacy.  I smiled and tucked it in a drawer.  But a few days later, I thought I’d humor him and took the test.  Positive.  For all the attempts we’d made, over all those years, to get pregnant (all that time ago), I never had a positive test.  So, what did I do?  I went out and bought another test, naturally assuming that it was a knock-off Chinese-made Jordanian-imported pregnancy test.  Well, the next “knock-off Chinese-made Jordanian-imported pregnancy test” said I was still pregnant.  Hmm.

“We’re going to the doctor,” my husband said.  Smart smart man.

At the doctor, I said quite simply, “I think we’re pregnant.”

“Okay, when was your last period?”

This stumped me.  When you’re trying to get pregnant, these details are on the tip of your tongue.  You know everything about your body.  But when you’re not trying to get pregnant, it’s really not a fun fact to share and tell (and recall), so I guesstimated.

“Well, then you’re about 8 weeks along; due in late June,” he said.

Two weeks later, still mired in denial, we visited a local obstetrician and with sonogram in hand, she confirmed it.  We were 10-weeks pregnant.  I burst into happy, terrified, overwhelmed tears.

We didn’t tell anyone for weeks.  I just needed to wrap my head around it.  Ironically enough, we had just started the “should we adopt again?” conversation, now that our daughter was approaching her second birthday.  Suddenly that conversation was put on hold.

So, as any good “bookworm” would do, I dove into the standard, “So You Think You’re Pregnant” books and started reading.  Month two, first trimester: in addition to learning that my baby was now the size of a raspberry, I also got to look forward to continued nausea, gas, headaches, increased saliva, dizziness, tender breasts, mood swings and frequent urination.  Lovely.

I think it was around month four that I stopped reading ahead.  I told a friend it was because I didn’t want to find out how it ended, but in reality it was just far too depressing.  I had a month of flatulence, bleeding gums, snoring, varicose veins, heartburn, bloating and something to do with discharge, to look forward to.  (I’m sorry, but when is “discharge” anything but unpleasant?)

I did share every excruciatingly gooey detail with my husband from my readings, however, figuring that if I was going to have to suffer through the symptoms, then he could suffer through hearing about them.  He turned various shades of mauve and ashy gray and this pretty much cinched the end of our “sharing” time in regards to pregnancy-look-ahead reading.

Oh, brain, how I miss thee

The term “baby brain” is typically used to describe the loopy dippiness than happens to pregnant women.  It makes you lose your keys, forget your wallet, miss appointments, and in general bring out the “dumb blonde” deep within all of us.  I’m convinced this is because the baby is sucking us dry of every vital organ and system, leaving us a barely functioning autonomic nervous system, but there may be a more scientific reason behind it.

My husband took on the task of making sure my phone was charged, always asked me if I locked the house, and in general kept his expectations of my mental capacity low.  I can’t tell you how many times I parked the car and left it in drive.  Took me ages to figure out why it wouldn’t start again.  Once it rolled gently into the car in front of me.  And another time (which my husband doesn’t know about), I came out of a friend’s house to find my car had rolled half-way down the block and was sitting in the middle of the road.  I was just grateful it wasn’t a steeper hill and no one got hurt.

But as the pregnancy wore on, things just got worse.  I started to begin all sentences with, “Have I said this already?”  Then, around my 34th week, I said to my husband one night, “Did we discuss plans for this weekend?”

“Yeah, we talked about meeting up with the Davis’ around 5pm.”

“Really?  I have no recollection of that.”  Silence from both of us.  Then I added, “I do hope my brain will come back at some point.”

“Just please don’t turn into that fish in ‘Finding Nemo’ and forget who I am every day,” my husband asked.

I had to laugh.  But inside I said a quick prayer.

Exhaustion, insomnia and, well… poo

There were a few pregnancy symptoms that I became rather preoccupied with (i.e., obsessed).  First was the overwhelming exhaustion (hence my initial mono self-diagnosis).  And regardless of all the promises from books, blogs and websites, it never diminished for me.  I had days that were better than others, but if I didn’t get a nap when my two-year-old did, then the evening could be interminable.

Then, combine exhaustion with weekly bouts of insomnia.  Now that’s just cruel.  I’d fall dead asleep at 9pm, only to wake at one or two and have to move to the couch to watch television until I fell asleep again. However, a few hours on a lumpy couch do not a restful sleep make and I would inevitably have a zombie day following.

Then, while grappling with the exhaustion-insomnia paradigm, I discovered yet one more fascination.  Never before in my life had I been so preoccupied with flatulence, gaseousness, and constipation – probably because never before had I been so alarmingly affected.  It was like I’d become a 7-year-old boy.  I could talk about it for days.  And yet despite his ability to chortle at others’ fart jokes, I think my husband grew tired of me bringing up the topic.  Such a double standard.

Cravings?

Most people really want to know what wacky things you’re craving.  Pickles and ice cream?  Peanut butter and tofu?  Ear wax and strawberries?  Unfortunately my cravings, such as they were, strayed to the more mundane, like ice in all my drinks (which was a new thing for me).  Did I crave Haagen-Daz’s Chocolate Peanut Butter?  Hell, yes!  But the same could be said for me pre-pregnancy, so I don’t think it counts.  And as I see it, thanks to my education through books, movies and TV, a true “craving” is where you wake up your husband and send him out at 2am because you’ll just die without Fig Newtons and Magic Shell.  I never did that.

I did learn that I loved jelly beans, even over chocolate.  Weird.  But most of my food issues were more of the “aversion” type than the craving type.  There was a lot that turned my stomach, including hummus, hard-boiled eggs, steamed spinach.  And not just the taste, in fact I rarely got to taste it.  It was a texture thing, and frankly I don’t even want to talk about it.

Then around week 28, I came down with something like hypoglycemia, which temporarily threw me into a bit of a tailspin.  It had no affect on the baby, but for the next few weeks I started keeping a “Food & Mood” journal to see what I could eat and on a scale of one to ten, how narcoleptic it was.  Fruit and fruit juice were fine, as long as I didn’t just eat them alone, had to combine with protein or fiber.  But white table sugar and white flour threw me into a day-long coma, where even my husband commented that I was even more of a space cadet than usual.  I love you, too, dear.

Advice, take it or… naw, just take it

Once I stopped reading ahead, I turned to the best source of all advice:  the girlfriend.  I had a nice sampling of moms I readily reached out to with all my weird and crazy questions and got a fabulous outpouring of advice.  Most of which I took, some I didn’t (but later wished I had).

And in all honesty, the #1 most offered advice was adamantly, “Take the laxatives after birth!!”  I didn’t even think to ask the question, but folks were quick to offer it up.  Duly noted, thanks ladies.

At week 14, I started to feel some leg aches and could have sworn that I could hear the creaking of my ligaments and muscles stretching and shifting.  I was quickly told to increase my water and keep my legs elevated as much as possible, especially in the evenings.  Worked wonders.

Then in week 18, the sleep issues began and no matter how many pillows I stuffed and wedged, I couldn’t get comfortable.  I was told to get a body pillow and I have to say, I splurged on the Leachco Snoogle Total Body Pillow and never spent a night without it after that.  It even went on vacation with us.  I call him Fred.

Around about week 20, I started to ask girlfriends about maternity wear.  What should I buy, how much, etc.  They all suggested a few signature pieces to get me through the pregnancy, but admitted I didn’t need a whole new wardrobe.  For whatever reason, I disregarded their advice entirely and bought some non-maternity clothes in a size or two bigger.  Then when I tried them on, the shoulders were so big I was constantly reenacting Jennifer Beals in “Flashdance”, minus the leg warmers. (Dated reference, I know, but forgive me, I’m in my 40s.)  When I mentioned this to my girlfriends and asked if I should just keep them and grow into them, they said, “What, you’re going to gain weight in your shoulders?!”  Honestly, I had no idea.  But in hindsight I should have listened to them all from the start.

I’m also trying to follow my own advice; the advice I give to pre-parents.  Get out and do stuff, go to the movies, go to dinner, do whitewater rafting, take pottery lessons, read books without pictures, have regular lunches with your girlfriends, stay up late, take a fabulous pre-kid trip with your spouse, and basically don’t put things off.

Two years ago, I was one of the doe-eyed innocents, hearing all these proclamations from other girlfriends and just smiling at them thinking they were making such a big deal out of things.  They weren’t.  They knew exactly what they were talking about and for the most part, luckily, we took their advice.

Now on round two things are a little different, adding a toddler to the mix makes romantic dinners and girlfriend lunches and movie dates slightly more difficult, but not impossible.  So we’re doing our best to take advantage of the “calm” (if you can call a two-year-old in potty training “calm”) before the “storm”.

Where’s my $*%&! glow?

In all my wanderings I can honestly say that I’ve come across four women who said they loved being pregnant.  Four.  Everyone else said that while it was worth it, they definitely weren’t floating on gossamer wings for nine months.

Now, as pregnancies go, I know that I’ve had a relatively easy one so far.  I’ve known younger and fitter women than me, who were put on bed rest for months; women who suffered such insomnia they had to be hospitalized; women who went into spontaneous labor eight weeks early and had to leave their child in the NICU for weeks.  So, my minor complaints about exhaustion and dirigible-like-bloating are really just whininess.

However, I do have one final whine to throw out there.  Maybe it’s because I got most of my pregnancy ideas from the entertainment industry; but in addition to the expectation of ice-cream-cravings, I fully expected to also get “the glow.”  You know, that “glow” that everyone talks about – where pregnancy brings out the inner goddess and men stop and stare, unable to control their desires to pamper me and help me with my groceries.  I even went back to the “So You Think You’re Pregnant” books just to see if they covered “how to get your glow on” and maybe find something I’d forgotten to do, but not one reference to glowing could be found; the index went right from gestational diabetes to glucose to gonorrhea.  I feel a bit gypped.  I never glowed remotely.  I waddled, I swayed, I groaned and moaned, I huffed and puffed; but not a %$&! shimmer to be found.

One month and counting

So, we basically have one month to go until we get to meet this little person who has so affected my daily life for the last 35 weeks.  I know that the exhaustion of dealing with a newborn will be just as debilitating, but I’m looking forward to putting shoes on without grunting, walking without resting my hand on my belly (though it does help to assure people that I’m pregnant and not just oddly fat, which relieves me a little), and getting back to my old regular (pun intended) intestinal tract.  Beyond that, we’ll just have to wait and see.  But at least I have my trusty girlfriend posse and Fred, oh and my smart smart husband, to keep me smiling.  Now off to plan that movie date!

Top Ten Tips for (Surviving) Flying with an Infant

(Previously published on parentsociety.com, 25 March 2013 - http://www.parentsociety.com/parenting/family-travel-parenting/10-tips-for-surviving-flying-with-an-infant/)  

By the time our daughter was nine-months-old, she’d flown over 42,500 miles; half of which under her own frequent flyer number.  So having all this experience could lead you to believe that we are well-seasoned travelers who know exactly what we’re doing.  Yeah, you could think that.

But becoming “well-seasoned” takes lots of hands, and I fully utilized any and all tips and tricks I could glean from all my traveling mom-friends and family.  Combining all their suggestions with lessons I’ve since learned, I can offer the following tips for traveling with infants, if you must.

1.  There’s a reason they’re called “pacifiers”

You’ve probably heard this from everyone, but having a pacifier or bottle on hand for each take-off and landing is vital.  With the change in air pressure, your baby may experience some ear discomfort or even pain.  Allowing, or even strongly encouraging, her to suck on a pacifier or a bottle during these times, helps alleviate the pressure in her ears, as well as the pressure you’ll feel to keep her happy and content.

2.  Buy baby a seat, or at least request the bulkhead and the bassinet

When feasibly and financially possible, buy baby his own seat.  It’s far more relaxing for all of you if he can ride out the journey in the comfort of his car seat, rather than your arms (but check with the airline for their specific requirements, some car seats can’t be squeezed into a seat no matter how hard you beg and plead).  But if his own seat is not an option, request the bulkhead and a bassinet.  Some airlines are wonderful about this and when they guarantee you the bulkhead, they mean it.  And then within seconds of reaching altitude, the stewards are there setting up the bassinet for your little bundle to enjoy the trip in style.  (I give high praise to British Airways, in particular, for this.)  Unfortunately, this is not all airlines.  We requested, and were “guaranteed”, the bulkhead on five separate flights with the same U.S. airline and never got it, and unfortunately BA is not always an option.

3.  Strollers and car seats can wait at the gate

Most airlines will allow you, at no cost, to check the car seat and stroller with your luggage, or take them with you to the plane and gate-check them.  The latter makes traversing airports so much easier; and in an ideal world, they’ll be waiting for you when you disembark.  If your child is in an infant car seat, and has his own ticket, then take the car seat on the plane and latch it into the seat.  If you’re carrying the baby on your lap, then gate-check the car seat and stroller.  Do note that your gear can get pretty banged up, so you can buy a bag for them, or even use a large duffle.  It’s an extra few minutes to load everything, but can help prolong the life of your gear.

4.  Bring a grabby-bag full of need-to-grab items

I fashioned my grabby-bag out of a mesh wash bag and stuck a carabineer hook through it.  This way, I can pre-load it with a bottle, formula and water, a few small toys (side note: check out the candy aisle for light-up spinning toys, but empty the candy first and stash the noisy toys in the suitcase), pacifiers, and burp cloths.  Then, as soon as I get to my seat, I whip it out, and hook it on the seat pocket in front of me.  I also stash my diaper changing kit in the pocket, for easy access.  This way, all those things you’ll inevitably need just as you’re taking off, will be right there at your fingertips.

5.  Give your arms a break; grab the Bjorn

Using any type of baby carrier gives your arms a welcome break if you’re holding the baby on your lap, and can help soothe any fussiness (it can also be a big help during chaotic security lines).  And it’s vital for when you’re traveling alone, which frankly is not great fun but often necessary.

6.  Ask for help; people love traveling babies

As you’re settling in to your seat, scope out kind stewards or other parents near you, and if needed, ask them to watch your precious little carry-on while you stretch and use the lavatory.  If you see other single parents, offer to reciprocate.  Also, ask the stewards which bathroom has the changing table because oftentimes there’s only one; and if you’re trekking back there with your diaper changing gear and a wiggly baby, you want to make sure you’re waiting in line for the right one.

7.  Not all airlines are created equal

If you have the luxury of choosing your airline, choose one that allows extra time for families to board; recently some U.S. airlines have stopped this (I won’t name names, but a simple Google search will reveal the culprits), which is not only annoying for those of us who could use some extra time, it’s certainly annoying for those of you who now have to wait behind us.

8.  Let Mr. Huffington huff and puff

Don’t fret about the obnoxious traveler behind you, whether going through security or boarding or disembarking the plane.  Yes, you’re going to take some extra time getting all your bits together, putting each and every item (including the car seat and the stroller) on the x-ray belt or climbing under the seat to find the favorite binky before you deplane, but there’s nothing you can do about it so let him sigh and moan and hopefully move to another line.

During our security passes, we’ve had varied response to taking on bottles of water for formula.  Sometimes they ignore them, sometimes we’re asked to open them and they perform a chemical test, other times they dump them and give us back the empties so we can refill them on the other side.  As expats, I hear a lot of extreme cases, and I’ve had friends who were asked to drink their own breastmilk to prove it was safe, and others who watched in horror as security opened each and every bottle of premade formula to “check” it, rending it useless without a refrigerator.  Anything can happen, so be as prepared as possible.

9.  Packing the diaper bag; this ain’t a trip to the park

Bring more diapers, formula, bottles, and outfits than you think you could possibly use (including a little hat, airplanes get cold).  Due to delays, missed flights, and other out-of-your-control issues, you just have no idea what may happen.  If you have a little spitter-upper, include a change of clothes for yourself, as well.

10.  When possible, drive

All in all, traveling with babies is not at the top of most people’s “Favorite thing to do on a Saturday” list, but for many of us, living abroad, visiting distant relatives, or dealing with an adoption, it’s unavoidable.  So, best to be prepared and just load up your carry-on with extra humor, flexibility and patience.  Believe me, you’ll need it!