I was unsure about breast feeding, initially. I knew that it was good for babies, so I thought I would try it, but I also promised myself that if it didn't work out, I wouldn't beat myself up. Even if I could do it, I thought I would probably just breast feed for a couple of months, and then transition to formula. I was honestly just talking a good game, I had no intention of working at it or making any kind of commitment to having little beings suck fluid directly from my boobs. What I didn't count on (especially from someone as cranky and hassled as me)was the deep sense of peace and satisfaction that I got from nourishing the twins' tiny bodies directly from my own, and the quiet, sweet bonding time that was a direct result of said nourishing. Isaac latched on immediately. Olivia worked at it for a couple of weeks, but never really got the hang of it, so I pumped so she had breast milk, too. In addition to all the hippie peace and bonding, babies were being fed really nutritious food for free, and I was literally pumping fat out of my body. The weight was falling off and I was still eating like a pregnant lady. Then, when the babies were 8 weeks old, my weight loss stalled. I panicked, because I was still about 30 lbs. heavier than when I first got pregnant, and 40 lbs heavier than when I started IVF. Through the panic, I heard the clear sweet voice of Jennifer Hudson, speaking directly to me, from a Weight Watchers (WW from here on out due to my lazy typing fingers) commercial, and I was saved from my gluttony.
Anyone who has been on WW knows that you eat food based on a point system. 3 oz. of steak is 3 points, one granola bar is 4 points, fruits are all 0 points, etc. It's kind of fun, at first, because it's like a game. Based on my weight, I should have gotten 33 points a day. Women who breast feed, however, get 14 extra points a day. That means I started out at 47 points a day! The difference is equivalent to a big mac or a large serving of Coldstone Cake Batter ice cream. I think that speaks to the importance of maintaining those extra 14 points. This information made it perfectly reasonable for me to consider pumping breast milk for the twins long past the age when they can be referred to as "babies"...and maybe long past the age where they can be referred to as "college students". It's the only way I can think of to lose weight without being hungry- except for exercise and god knows I'm not doing that. OK, and cigarettes, and while I'm perfectly willing to take up smoking again, it will kill me, it costs a fortune and it's socially unacceptable. Breast feeding is like volunteer work. Everyone congratulates you for doing it and you get a special resting area at the mall, and extra breaks at work to "pump" (AKA- time to facebook on my phone). Of course, at some point the babies won't want breast milk anymore. Maybe at that point I can sell the milk on the black market. If anyone has a hook up, let me know....
Day Care
I've always had issues with over-achievement and with too much of my identity being tied up in my work and "success". When I started my career 12 years ago, I worked at least 80 hours a week, and was promoted very quickly. I was an associate director by 24 and a director by 26. I was pretty proud (i.e., egotistical and impossible to be around) of my upward movement, I was ridiculously eager to please and it took me a long time to realize that it's OK to admit when I can't or don't like to do something. It's important, I think, to be realistic and honest about ones abilities and to appreciate strength in others. For example: I'm terrible at filing, tracking data, entering data, and I spend a lot of time trying to be OK at keeping my desk organized and following through. If I am supposed do some task at a specific time, I need 50 calendar reminders (which I will ignore) and an email from someone who can fire me in order to remember to do it. I don't make excel spread sheets or tracking workbooks at work because I hate them and wouldn't use either of those things, even if I made them. I'm cranky and impulsive a lot of the time. I'm good at talking, making people feel special, understanding their needs, putting together effective teams, and motivation. I have solid writing skills (but terrible spelling) and judgment and I usually make good decisions intuitively. I am working really hard at waiting 24 hours to address issues that really piss me off so I can get some perspective, but that's not really in my nature.
The same principle applies to my family life. I love my family more than anything in this world. My kids are on an awesome routine. They get up at the same time every morning and go to bed at the same time every night. They are good eaters, (usually) peaceful sleepers, they're neatly dressed and they are hugged and kissed and loved and talked to constantly. I read to them and tickle them and make an ass out of myself to hear one precious laugh.
I thought a lot about quitting work when I had twins. Ultimately, I knew that I am not, and doubt I ever will be the kind of mom that can stay at home every day and help my kids learn creatively. I love arts and crafts, but can't make an owl out of a paper bag without direction. I can not make food look like cartoon characters, and it wouldn't occur to me to finger paint with pudding. If I did stay home everyday, I would not be the fun and patient parent that my kids deserve and that I can be for the three days a week I do stay home. I genuinely wish I could be, but I know myself well enough to know I'd be frustrated and not up to par and my kids would suffer because of it. They are literally better off spending at least part of their time in the care of strangers- albeit carefully selected strangers. These are my honest feelings about my family and our situation. No judgment here about anyone or how they spend their time or how they parent. It's not as simple in my mind as I make it sound, either. I do have guilt about how much time I spend at work, and I struggle constantly for balance. I miss them every single day, all day, but I don't think that means I should be with them every single day, all day.
I only bring it up at all because of a request from our daycare. We love our daycare. It's run by the Air Force, and it's really run well. Shoe covers are required before entering rooms where babies spend time on the floor, and you have to wash your hands as soon as you enter the room. They hang family photos so that the babies can see us all day. The ladies there are nice and they are great with the babies(They do burn through the baby wipes like nobodies business, though. What are they doing with all those wipes?!).
Last week, Charlie and I both had to work late on the same night. The twins were dropped off at daycare at 6:30am and picked up at 5:30 pm. The daycare requested that, since the babies were left for more than 10 hours, we get a form letter signed by employers stating the need for us to work such hours. In other words (and my interpretation), "you are acting like deadbeat parents, so please provide us with proof that you are not deadbeat parents". All of my careful and logical justification for working went straight out the window and I burst into tears. This parenting business is a mine field.
The same principle applies to my family life. I love my family more than anything in this world. My kids are on an awesome routine. They get up at the same time every morning and go to bed at the same time every night. They are good eaters, (usually) peaceful sleepers, they're neatly dressed and they are hugged and kissed and loved and talked to constantly. I read to them and tickle them and make an ass out of myself to hear one precious laugh.
I thought a lot about quitting work when I had twins. Ultimately, I knew that I am not, and doubt I ever will be the kind of mom that can stay at home every day and help my kids learn creatively. I love arts and crafts, but can't make an owl out of a paper bag without direction. I can not make food look like cartoon characters, and it wouldn't occur to me to finger paint with pudding. If I did stay home everyday, I would not be the fun and patient parent that my kids deserve and that I can be for the three days a week I do stay home. I genuinely wish I could be, but I know myself well enough to know I'd be frustrated and not up to par and my kids would suffer because of it. They are literally better off spending at least part of their time in the care of strangers- albeit carefully selected strangers. These are my honest feelings about my family and our situation. No judgment here about anyone or how they spend their time or how they parent. It's not as simple in my mind as I make it sound, either. I do have guilt about how much time I spend at work, and I struggle constantly for balance. I miss them every single day, all day, but I don't think that means I should be with them every single day, all day.
I only bring it up at all because of a request from our daycare. We love our daycare. It's run by the Air Force, and it's really run well. Shoe covers are required before entering rooms where babies spend time on the floor, and you have to wash your hands as soon as you enter the room. They hang family photos so that the babies can see us all day. The ladies there are nice and they are great with the babies(They do burn through the baby wipes like nobodies business, though. What are they doing with all those wipes?!).
Last week, Charlie and I both had to work late on the same night. The twins were dropped off at daycare at 6:30am and picked up at 5:30 pm. The daycare requested that, since the babies were left for more than 10 hours, we get a form letter signed by employers stating the need for us to work such hours. In other words (and my interpretation), "you are acting like deadbeat parents, so please provide us with proof that you are not deadbeat parents". All of my careful and logical justification for working went straight out the window and I burst into tears. This parenting business is a mine field.
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