And It All Began With An Eye Twitch…

I need to firstly apologise for all the doom and gloom posts that I’ve written lately.

But I’ll be honest.  This has to be the toughest week of motherhood I’ve so far experienced.

And I write this not for sympathy or understanding.  I just need to let it out in my own space here.

The stress.  The anxiety.  The sleep deprivation.

The friggin’ eye twitch…

It’s come to a point where I can’t articulate it to anyone.  Not even my own husband.

Sometimes, I feel he’s even let me down this week.

Maybe, I just take things too personally.

The uglys of motherhood – perhaps I’m supposed to try and approach them with a smidgen of salt.

When two 17 month old toddlers are screaming in my ear, doing the back-arch and surfboard positions each time I try to carry them;  When I’m trying to wipe the disgusting snot from their noses and its remnants in their hair without them throwing a major tantrum; When I’m trying to keep their surprisingly strong little bodies still on the change table;  When they throw back their heads in protest in their high-chairs, screaming their lungs out, with food strewn all over the kitchen floor and walls…

Why does it all get to me ?

Or I guess, more to the point:  Why do I let it all get to me ?

I’ve been going to bed before 9 for three nights straight.  I can’t think of the last time I needed this much sleep.  But it’s not a deep slumber the entire time.  And curling up in bed so early in the evening with a hot water bottle isn’t even about the opportunity to get ample sleep anymore.

It’s the attempt to get some peace and quiet.

To give my body a break from all the stress it goes through during the day;  To feel my chest fill with air instead of it feeling tight with anxiety;  To stop my hands from shaking with nervous energy from all the crying in the background.

I know all this too shall pass, as the famous saying goes.

Still.  It hasn’t stopped this bloody eye from twitching…

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday – Bathtime

Bathtime:  When energy levels have hit their peak for the day, the twinlets are wearing their dinner and we throw them in the bath tub.

The end of the day when I breathe a sigh of relief because I know it’s almost their bedtime !

Linking up with My Little Drummer Boys for Wordless Wednesday.  See you over there !

"Dude...where you goin' ? Camera's this way..."

"Here we go ! UP ! Uh...I mean...down..???"

"Okay...DOWN ! Uh...I mean...up ???"

"Okay, okay...take 3 ! UP !!! Or is down ???"

"Aaand...back to where we started..."

I Just Need to Whine…Just a Little…

Often I get asked “How do you do it ?” when people refer to raising twins.

My response is always: “Well, I don’t know any different.”

And that’s the truth.

And like a lot of other life situations, we work with what we’ve been dealt with.  Period.

However (and this is a BIG however), when this house is plagued by sickness, the dynamics change drastically.

And I don’t cope very well.

Actually, I lose the plot.

Little K has had a wheezing cough for almost a month now.  Last week, our GP prescribed him with preventer medication.

His cough got worse.

He’s now on preventer medication and ventolin.

Oh, what joy that has been.

Trying to force a cylindrical plastic tube over a 17 month old toddler’s mouth and nose ?  And then squirting some sort of unidentifiable stuff into him ?

Trust me. It all gets very tricky.

Of course, in no time, Little N has also caught it.

The reaction has been different.

No wheezing cough but a runny nose that is so disgusting he looks like he’s constantly got two green caterpillars hanging above his lip.  Lovely.

And of course, Little N is like his mum – a complete princess when it comes to being sick.

A small swipe across his red raw nose with the snot rag; A thermometer in the ear; It’s all a major drama.

This is all another phase.  I know.

I have two little people of the same age.  Having no clue what’s going on with their little bodies.

Unable to communicate how crappy they feel.  (Except for the incessant crying, wailing and screaming, of course).

Unable to settle at night because they have so much mucus and other goober stuff coming out from all ends.

There is a small inkling that they both know something’s up.

To soothe him from his medication aftermath, I sit down and give Little K some big cuddles, rubbing his back.

Lately, Little N has started to come up and started patting his brother’s back too.

“Don’t worry, Buddy,” he seems to be saying.

“We’ll get through this…”

Sometimes, my weary mind tells me I need to just leave the kids with Hubby for half an hour.

Just get out.  Go for a walk.  Clear the head.

But God help me if I come across someone that asks me again, “How do you do it ?”

I am sure to clobber them.

Training for City2Surf: Going Solo – Week 5

Finishing up our training session last Thursday morning, our trainer told me that it was the last for two weeks.  (Thanks, blasted school holidays).

The moment she mentioned it, all those rejected feelings from the 80’s, 90’s and yes, even the Noughties came flooding back.

Desperate thoughts ran through my head.

“What ?  What am I going to do for the next two weeks ???”

And this was my problem:  I had been resting on my laurels.

Bondi Beach: The finishing line for the City2Surf (Photo taken at last year's event)

Training with the ladies was always my contingency plan.  My default.  If I didn’t have the time or -more importantly –  the motivation to do my own training for the City2Surf, I knew I was still giving my body a work out twice a week.

So, off I go.  Trying to do it solo.

Sacrificing sleep to fit the running before the household stirs.

So far, okay.

Stumbling through the bedroom to find my running gear in the pitch black darkness was a pain at first.

But I try not to give it too much thought.

Setting myself onto “Auto Pilot”, I head out on the 9km running trail I’ve mapped out for myself.

Once I get out there, I’m glad I did it.

So, six weeks to go until the big race.

Nervous.  Excited.  But still feel the need to improve.

The solo morning runs are a start, at least.

Highlights: 

I haven’t lost weight in two weeks.  Gone back to a bit of the *ahem* comfort eating.

But funnily enough, my body is still changing.  Catching my  shadow these days has become a subtle surprise.  The “muffin top” is far less prominent.

Achievements:

I’ve ran a total of 23 kms this week…Woot!  Woot !

Two weeks ago, that was unheard of.

Yes, precious sleeping time has suffered.  But, I think the long-term effects will make up for it.

P.S  I’m fundraising while I’m running !  My choice of charity is The Miracle Babies Foundation.  A support group for parents, families and hospitals looking after premature and sick newborn babies, these guys helped us through my little 5 week premmie twinlets’ shaky start to life.

If you would like to donate, please click here.

Hapless Hamster in a Wheel

Pop the champagne !  Turn up the disco music !

This is my 100th post !

With all the stuff that I write about motherhood, this post it about the turn of events that got me here.

You see, right before knowing that I was going to be a mum, I was a hapless hamster in a wheel at my corporate IT sales job.

I had been in the “game” for over ten years and in that wheel, I never stopped.

Constantly on the phone; Always tapping at the computer; Forever bullied by sales managers pushing me to hit sales targets.

“Submit quote.  Lock in customer meeting.  Close deal.  And repeat.”

It was more than coincidence that by the time I was pregnant, I had lost my mojo for the corporate world.

I no longer believed in what I was selling.  I was burnt out.  I was over the office politics.

Colleagues playing manipulative games.  Idiots trying to trip others up, in the attempt to make themselves look like the corporate business hero.

It was all bollocks and I would go home in tears wondering how my life got to be so off-track.

How did it get to being so directionless ?

Why the hell was I still in that wheel ?

As it turned out – a week after I found out I was pregnant – one Monday morning, I was called into the boardroom.  After a whole lot of waffle from the boss and his sidekick, they cordially gave me “the nudge”.

I handed over my laptop and phone immediately and I politely walked out the door.

(While really I should ‘ve just given them the finger).

People told me I should’ve sued them.

“Companies just can’t sack people anymore !  That’s illegal !”

Friends would say.

The thing is, that’s the corporate life for you.

Heartless, cold and cut-throat.

And, really.  It was a blessing.

Two weeks after my *ahem* dismissal, we went for our first ultrasound.  At almost 7 weeks pregnant, we found out we were having twins.

And instantaneously, the doctor told me that as it was monozygotic (two sacs, one placenta), I was immediately ranked as a high-risk pregnancy.

“Is your job stressful ?” she asked.

“Well, actually I just quit not too long ago.”

“Just as well…”

I’m one of those people who believe that things happen for a reason.

Although I was obviously unhappy with my hamster situation, Something had to happen to give me that push.

I couldn’t make that initial change on my own.

And now, here I am.

On a completely different journey.

One without corporate bullies or caged wheels to hold me back.

Me in my new job title: Mum of twins...

Things I Know

Holy sick twinlets !

Little K’s nose is running like a tap and his wheezing coughs are starting to make us all a little nervous.  It’s just a matter of seconds until Little N gets it.

Winters, flu, endless doctor’s appointments…just got to get through this sick-ridden season.

But hey, it’s Friday and it’s time to link up for Things I Know.  Make sure you head on over to Yay For Home! to join along.

So, hmmmm…here it goes…

I know:

That when your kitchen/dining room starts to look like this:

…it’s time to start thinking about moving.  Which is a real bugger because I love this place.  And I am really loving our neighbourhood and the community around it.

That there is a never a convenient time for blackouts and candles can only do so much.

That to better prepare ourselves for further blackouts is to not only have enough torches around but to also have an ample supply of batteries.

That one night of having Hubby out for a work function equals full control of the TV !  Awesomeness !!!

That slow cookers are the cat’s meow !  Being able to chuck some veggies and diced beef in a pot, walk away and come back in 6 hours with a delish Beef casserole makes life just that tad easier.

That today is a day at home and that a lot of cuddles, a bit of Wiggles and a touch of Play School is just what two sicky toddlers need.

Have a fabulous weekend, everyone !!!  Mwah ! x

To Assume, Or Not To Assume; It’s Never A Question

Back in the day when I was fighting my way through the crazy corporate jungle which was full of bigger -than-their -BMW’s-business egos (compensating for their insecurities and other “shortcomings), I had many an idiot of a boss.  One in particular.

But, ironically, this is the idiot that left one piece of advice that has always stayed with me:

“Never assume.”

This man doesn’t deserve any more of a mention but the other day those words struck a chord.

Waiting in line for my much-needed coffee, a lady tapped me on the shoulder and while pointing to the twinlets said, “Oh, please do tell me some of your nanny friends so I can refer either you or them to my daughter.  She’s looking for someone at the moment…and you seem to be doing a fabulous job with those twins…”

“Haha, I should think so.  After all, I am their mother…” I replied, trying to contain my urge to whack the tactless lady in the head.

Arriving at playgroup, I told the other mums about my run-in.  One mum knew exactly where I was coming from.  She is Hungarian; Her husband is of Filipino background; Their little boy is his dad’s mini-me.

Another mum made an interesting point.

“She just should’ve just asked straight up if they were yours.  At least she could’ve saved herself the embarrassment.”

And although I almost despise being asked that question too (It’s up there with “Are they IVF ?”), I think my mum friend is right.

I started thinking about assumptions and tried to recall a time where they have every played a positive role.

Being an Indonesian born Australian, I’ve been dumped with a few in my life.

There was the time a QANTAS flight attendant was frustrated with all the Indonesian passengers who couldn’t speak (shock !  horror !) English on a flight from Jakarta to Sydney.  Getting peeved at having to repeatedly explain that the dinner choices were either fish or chicken, by the time he came around to me, he spoke so slowly and yet in an impatient and rude manner.

I turned on my thickest of Aussie accents and twang:  “Um, dunno.  Maybe the chicken, but what’s in the fish ?”

I’ll never forget his look of shame and his lame attempt to explain his bad behaviour.

Then there was the awful time when my dad had a seizure in the middle of a road trip and we had to race him to the nearest hospital.  While waiting for his CT scan results in the emergency room, a nurse started speaking candidly to his colleague about my dad’s condition, thinking he and his family who were in the room didn’t speak English.

There will always be morons in this world.  There’s no denying that.

But I think assumptions can be prevented.  (And likewise, I definitely need some hard-up lessons of my own).

Perhaps, we could argue that they aren’t as severe as unsolicited judgements or criticisms.  One could even see them as harmless.

Yet, my life experiences tell me differently.  I think assumptions can be the root and the stem of the yuckiness and negativity of close-mindedness and prejudice.

Feel free to correct me, if I’m wrong.

Anywhoooo…ending on a lighter note.

Here is the latest photo of me and the twinlets:

Please, please, pretty please tell me that  you can see a teeny tiny resemblence of me in them.

The flat nose ?  The squidgy lips ? Anything ?

Lies and far-stretched truths will be happily accepted 🙂

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday – Happy 17 months !

To celebrate the twinlets turning 17 months yesterday, here are a few of my favourite photos from the early days to the present.

Happy 17 months, my little munchkins !
It’s been a fabulous ride.  Can’t wait to see what the next 17 and beyond bring.

Linking up with Trish at My Little Drummer Boys.  Make sure you join me.

6 days old: Keeping each other company in the NICU

One of our favourites...

5 months

12 months

Last Sunday

The Unspoken Dissent of Twins

During their 6 month check up, our paediatrician made an interesting comment:

“I know it’s hard with twins at the moment.  But just wait and see.  They’ll be each other’s company and entertainment.  You won’t have to worry about finding things to do.  You’ll have it much easier than parents of single babies.”

I clung to those words like superglue.  Waiting earnestly for the days of self-sufficiency.

And we’re here.  And to a large degree, he was right.

Largely, people are correct to assume that twins means a natural closeness.  An inseperable bond.  A happy harmony.

But no one mentions the flip-side; the clash of opposing personalities.

Just because they’re twins, they will still go through sibling rivalry.

Even in the womb, Little K was dominating by nature.  After all, he was the one that took up two-thirds of the nutrients from the placenta.  He was also the one that did most of the kicking and swirling around.

On the other hand, Little N was placid.  He was happily snug in the downward position two weeks before the scheduled C-section delivery.  Sometimes in the middle of the night, with Hubby spooning me and both of us with our hands on my belly, we would wait and wait for Little N to finally make some movement.

Yet – once arriving in the outside world – their different personalities seem to have complimented each other.

Until recently.

Somehow, just within this last month, we have managed to go from here:

To here:

We knew it was coming.

It began discreetly.  Little K would snatch a toy right out of his brother’s hand.  Little N – the accommodating one – would just move on.  Happily play with another toy.

But now as their personalities further develop, their own ideas of what they want are also setting in.

And because Little K is bigger than his older brother, he will get away with more.  In return, Little N – being a sensitive soul – will run away in a corner and cry.

We see that there’s an imbalance.  We’re trying to reason with Little K to give back the toy.  But when both are still too young to communicate and understand the “sharing game”; where there isn’t an older sibling who will “know better” and surrender that toy; it all results in a lot of chaos.

What’s baffling about it all is that Little K is actually not aggressive with other children.

If he sees another kid playing with his favourite toy at playgroup, Little K won’t act on it.  But if it’s his twin brother ?  Watch out.

Fortunately, Little N is starting to stand his ground.  And despite the Little K tantrums it causes, we’re encouraging Little N to stick to his guns.

Again, the effects can be horrendous.

But we have to do it.

Until we can actually sit down with them and explain the concept of “taking turns” or “sharing”, it’s going to be a rough ride.

“So, you guys going in for another round ???”

It’s a question I get asked a lot these days.

Random people tend to particularly like asking while I’m dealing with a twinlet tantrum or chasing them as they run in opposite directions.

“Haha !  Depends on the day you ask me !”  I manage to force a fake laugh as I scurry away, trying to catch one.

It seems to be a bit of entertainment for some people; seeing if a parent of twinlets would dare want any more.

It’s like they’re asking if I’m up for some more torture; wanting to see if I’m crazy enough to experience another dose and a half of sleep deprivation.

“What if you have another set of twins ???” is the next favourite line.

Yet, none of these people know that I would love to have another.  And if we had another set of twins – God help me – I know we would somehow manage.  There’s plenty of love in this house for more.

But there’s a few factors to consider.

First and foremost is finding the blessed time AND energy to procreate.  Have I mentioned how dawg-gone friggin’ exhausted I am these days ???

Hubby's response after asking him if there was going to be any bedroom action later...

The other important point is the fact that I’m around the corner from the 40’s shop.  And I’m not sure whether by the time I get there, the baby producing aisle will still be open and available.  Know what I’m sayin’ ?

Even if we just put aside that second issue for just a moment and focus on trying to find some time for a bit of bow-chica-bow-wow in the bedroom.

The whole process has become so clinical and almost unromantic…it’s actually laughable.

Two weeks after “Flow’s Come To Town” I promptly let my husband know that I’m ovulating.  (Well, I think I am, anyway…).

The moment the sentence leaves my mouth, I realise how far we’ve come from our raunchy-can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other-child-free days.

How did we get to this stage of such complacent abstinence ?

A couple of months ago, I decided to head to bed early.  It was my cue to let my beloved know I was *ahem* ready.

A couple of hours later, the light finally switches on in Hubby’s head and he manages to tear himself away from the telly and makes himself to the bedroom .

By this time, I am well and truly in the depths of the slumberland forest.

Hubby tried a couple of his “special” moves to wake me but in the midst of deep sleep…I pushed him away.

“Sorry, Lovey…I’m just too tired,” I apparently mumbled in my sleep-talk.

Yikes !

I NEVER say no to a bit of bedroom action !!!

At the same token, there have been a few momentous occasions where I – the obvious sex goddess that I am – have also been (Shock, horror !) rejected due to sheer exhaustion.

So all this push-pull activity in the bedroom is surely telling us something.

I’m not ready.

Neither is Hubby.

But, with the odds starting to stack up against me in the baby stakes, I wonder if we will ever have the chance to be.

I guess I just have to leave it in the hands of Whoever.

Happy to have another.

Feeling extremely blessed with two.