Tag Archives: parenting

Got my Pumpkins, But not my Life Plan

Every week is different, but they’re all pretty interesting… what makes them so is the combination of different projects I’m working on at the moment. Project one is the babies. Project two is teaching, and trying to maneuver behind the scenes to turn that job into a full-time position so that I can stay in academia without leaving Houston.

More than a year ago, before I came down with a case of “the pregnancy”, I submitted a journal article. I got back the usual “revise and resubmit”, but I actually hadn’t opened the feedback until now, a year later. I was too tired and overwhelmed.

The reviews are hilarious. One recommended immediate acceptance and gave it the highest possible scores. The second went on what sounded like an emotional rant about what a piece of garbage it is, and gave it the lowest possible scores. The editor was like (….) but wrote that if I managed to garner such extreme reactions I must be doing something right. Kinda cool. Anyway, I must revise some bits to address “angry reviewer”‘s gripes.

I am also toying with taking on freelance projects- this happened by accident. A design firm in town got in touch with me out of the clear blue and asked if I’d do a three week project for them. Then, after my hopes skyrocketed, they flaked- said they’d decided they could handle the project in-house after all. But I got a taste of the money, and I must admit, I liked the idea of actually getting to pay down my debt.

Speaking of, my first choice academic publisher wants to talk to me about my book- in person. How do I explain that I don’t have the money at the moment to fly to conferences at which I’m not presenting because their call for papers happened when I was birthin’ the twins? (Plus, I don’t know whether they’re even worth the investment right now!)

Oh, so much life confusion.

Ok, so some random things:

I can hear little C2 babbling upstairs- the little dork has only been “napping” for an hour, but he slept through the night last night (Sweet Jesus yes) so he’s forgiven.

After seeing how much baby food for two growing twins is costing us, I am back on the “making baby food” bandwagon (not an affiliate link- I don’t have my act together enough for that). I may be behind on all other crafting and planning and tidying and exercising, but the baby food thing is happening. You’ll see.

After my friend K got me to go to two in-person classes with her, I tried the online Bar Method classes yesterday. How are they? I have no idea- a minute into it, the twins started fussing and crying, and they didn’t let up until I forlornly turned off the video and gave them my full attention.

Being only the stepparent, I had no idea Monday was a day off for A and C. Made me wonder whether I have the day off from teaching too. But nope, it’s the usual routine. I got a fun primer on the sins of Columbus from C this morning – as we say in Texasland, Happy Fall y’all.

An open letter to some random women

Dear random women I have encountered recently at the grocery store, and the doctor’s office,

We have to talk.

I didn’t talk to you in the moment, because I tend to have an extremely long hang time when startled, and particularly when people behave badly. Especially when I’m upset. And I was really pretty upset. Let me explain.

I’ll address you based on the order in which these things happened.

First, ladies in the grocery store. I feel like twin babies are not.. uncommon. And when I go to the grocery store with them I have become used to the nonstop comments. I’ve even developed strategies to avoid having endless conversations about their age, gender, means of conception, or identical vs. fraternal status. Or whether twins run in my family. And the twins you’ve met before now.

I honestly don’t mind these interactions (except when I’m trying to be efficient in the store), and I thought that’s where our encounter was going when you approached me and the boys. You said something, but I didn’t get to respond before you were in the stroller taking photographs of the babies.

I was so shocked I knocked over a glass bottle of kombucha (shaddup) and made both a glorious mess and commotion. You were not deterred. Why did you want pictures of my babies? What were you doing? What will you use the photos for?

I will never know, because by the time I had collected myself enough to speak words, you were scurrying off, with photos of my babies on your phone. I was rattled for the rest of the night.

***

This brings me to you, woman-trying-to-help, and mean woman.

I didn’t want to bring my twins to the doctor’s office on Monday. Not even a little bit. But I’m not working (for $) right now, and I can’t afford a baby sitter. And I feel very guilty bullying my in-laws into doing it all the time. But I digress. I was with the babies, and they were not happy.

In their defense, they’re 23 weeks old, and the appointment was smack in the middle of a feeding time.

By the time I was done with the doctor– an hour long event that basically entailed her rocking one of the babies and trying to talk over their wailing– the babies were really fed up with… not being fed. I had only one bottle with me, because I am a sleep deprived mess, so I proceeded to feed half to each baby. This satisfied neither, and they both kept wailing.

In desperation, I ran to the bathroom and began filling up the bottle with warm tap water. You came out of one of the stalls. “Tap water?” you (stranger #1) asked, horrified. “Oh no no. You can’t use that. Let me get you some bottled water.”

I looked down at my already-ready bottle, and my screaming babies, and I sighed. You were trying to be nice. So I waited while they hollered, trying in vain to soothe them with pacifiers. After what seemed like a year, you returned with two small bottles of icy cold water.

I know the babies won’t take water that cold. But you hovered, and I sighed, and gave it a shot. And of course, the babies would not drink. As I futilely tried to persuade them, that cold would be “refreshing” you fussed and interfered. And then you, stranger #2, exited a bathroom stall.

You saw the canister of formula on the counter- the result of countless hours of ingredients research and obsessing and self flagellation. And you made a sound of disgust: “Formula, really?”

I just looked at you.

“Don’t you know ‘breast is best’?” You tsked.

Oh good, that old chestnut. Said by someone who has no idea what my baby feeding journey has been like, no regard for the challenges multiples introduce. Said when I was already a hair’s breadth away from crying in public. I was too shocked to speak. So were you, stranger #1, so you fled that shit show. Said something about “leaving me to it”, and bolted.

This is probably the part of the story where I’m supposed to digress and give my readers a sob story about why formula has entered my life. I’m supposed to try to shut down criticism anyone might have. I’m not going to do that, because it’s nobody’s damn business.

After having a good cry about it all in my car on the way home, and later that night, I’m just … disappointed in all three of you.

Like asking someone who isn’t pregnant when she’s due, I was shocked to be confronted by people out in the “wild” who really behave this way. Shocked as I am about people asking me if the twins are “natural”. I do think these people are outliers- I don’t subscribe to any “decline of civilization” narrative.

But I read every week about women being abused for breast feeding in public, and being abused if they don’t. So clearly, there are plenty of people out there who need to get the message that some things are just none of their business.

That is all. Carry on… differently.

(And if you see photos of my twins anywhere… let me know, okay?)