This house has four mothers.
This house also has four kids.
This is not a coincidence.
I have always said and felt that mothering this many children requires many different levels of skill.
The fact is this: each one of my kids are so different from one another that after trying uselessly to mother the twins the same, I decided to be a different mom to each one of my kids.
It works. Why? I don't know..I'm sure all mothers with several children do the same kind of thing, whether consciously or unconsciously.
The 'dad' doesn't really have to do this quite as much, but 'dads' are generally more fun, nor do they take the time to self reflect as much as mothers do. Not to take away from dads..no way. But I know for a fact my own husband doesn't lay awake at night worrying that he has, in some way, &%#@ed up his kid, while I do that regularly.
Nick's mom, she is easy. Because Nick is easy. Nick's mom brought him home from the hospital and realized he was going to be a good boy. He is so easy going and non-confrontational. Even as a baby, he would eat and sit up and burp and poop and be A-OK! "No prob MOM!"
Nick's mom would put him in the older, creakier swing because Nick was happy anywhere. He would get the hand me down car seat, the hand me down super saucer. Nick was happy! He made my job very, very easy. Nick slept. Nick smiled. Now, Nick is growing up and yes he goes through some tough times, where asthma plagued us night and day..yet the child never complained and he plodded through. Nick grows and grows and whoops! We notice that poor Nick has probably grown a little 'too much' and he is a smidgen overweight. Ok, Nick's mom decides to put Nick on an exercise program and VIOLA the kid produces! Nick works hard. Nick is good. Nick is just like his father. He, while being my most easy going child, also is my most 'air headed' and frustrates me constantly with his vague questions.
I don't worry about him. Nick is constant and good and kind. He works hard and is smart and he wants to be with us forever.
Nate's mom was stressed out. Same mom. Same time frame as Nick, as obviously, they are twins. Think parenting twins the same is possible? Try it. Let me know how it goes for you.
Nate comes home from the hospital and is miserable. He cries. A lot. He cries for six months. He has colic. A milk allergy. He has problems digesting. He has stomach cramps and his little legs come right up to his belly and he screams in pain. Nate's mom did not sleep. Nate did not sleep..and any little noise set him off. Any stimulation made him cry. Loud noises, creaky swings. Nate got all the new flashy baby stuff. It rode smoother. Nate is still my most 'type A' personality. He is the most like me. We argue. We yell. He can fight as good as me. He can shatter his nicer twin with two or three well thought out sentences and he means it. But all of this is part of him. He is not meant to be here. I know his path is for bigger places. He reads, he studies, he wants to travel. He sees things outside the box.
These twins mom, she did it all by the book. After all, she read all the books on parenting. She boiled dropped pacifiers for 10 minutes. She cried over the decision to stop pretending to nurse them and bottle feed them. She co-slept them until they bopped one another one the heads. This mom planned birthday parties. This mom went to all the nursery school parties and provided the snack. This mom, one year, decided to buy all the children at nursery school a pumpkin, and carved each child's name into it, after gutting it and filling it with candy.
This mom color coded their Christmas gifts. She had specific spoons, forks, plates and cups for each child. She had play dates. She never, ever let them out of her sight. They didn't use public water fountains.
Joel's mom is a touch clingy. Joel's mom had a hard time getting Joel here, as in, out of her. He was born and latched onto her for dear life. After he nursed for 18 months he promptly moved onto my leg and sometimes I still find him hanging on. I feel such empathy for whatever young girl this young Oedipus brings home, because Joel's mom will foil it. Trust me. I don't feel sorry for the girl, because there will be many, and the girl who finally gets him will deserve him..because getting him away from me will be one difficult task. He's mine. Mine. Mine. Joel came into the world the very CLONE of his father, right down to the weight and black, black hair. The newborn pictures the hospital take, when compared, were indistinguishable even to the grandmother's. I was ready to be this child's mother. It was my dream to have A CHILD. The twins' mother was so exhausted and overwhelmed and stressed and obsessive compulsive that she never enjoyed them. This child was mine and I planned on enjoying HIM.
This was a mistake as young Joel, in turn, hated every human on earth except his mother. Nursery school=nightmare. Crying. Sobbing. And that was the mom..Joel was doing his fair share two miles away at nursery school. Joel grows into a stoic and serious little boy..the black hair is now blond and he bears zero resemblance to his father. He looks like his mother. Joel had limited vocal capacity due to an accident, so his mom had to make his friends for him. He keeps those same friends close to his heart. He, at 9 years old, is my worst risk taker. He is the child that I fear. Not him, himself. But for. His mom lets him do 'his thing' while sneakily watching him. His mom is thankful for older brothers to include him. Joel's mom is smiling at her sleeping boy while holding her cup of coffee in the morning, dreading waking him out of his peace.
Finally, prayers were answered, a little later in life..when Baby Girl arrives. Isabel had it different from day one, as she was born in the easiest delivery and she took her cue from that. She was the easiest baby. She was a delight and a pleasure and a gift. Of course, Isabel's mom was 32 years old and extremely laid back. Isabel's mom would come downstairs, turn on Sesame St and throw a handful of cheerios on the FLOOR while she read the paper. Yeah, that's pretty laid back. Isabel grows and becomes the 'community baby', she is the mascot for all her brothers athletic events. She plays with every single kid at the playground. She shares juice boxes and tissues and know why? Because Isabel's mom is probably asleep under a book somewhere near that playground or baseball game. She's no worse for wear. In fact, I would say she is my most confident child. She is, by far, my most intelligent. Isabel has about 5 mothers who take care of her at various events. She will ask any one of these amazing women to go with her to the bathroom or get her a snack. She will, actually, order her own food and pay for it with whatever money she has either found on the ground or asked her grandfather for. Isabel's mom didn't make any friends for her. She didn't need her to. Isabel, just last week, got a ride to nursery school from her grandma, and said "Oh grammie, you don't have to get out, I'm ok!" and away she goes..hops out with her backpack and waves goodbye, in she goes!
Isabel's mom is very, very grateful for such an amazing little girl. While my mind is often taxed because of her endless questions and adventures and stories and singing~my heart is so full because I know that she is product of herself. She is her. She is wonderful.
And yes, those who know Isabel, know she is built like a Peterbilt. She is built like a linebacker. She is not one of those fluffy, sweet, dainty puffballs. She is NOTHING like her mother as a little girl..she is SO MUCH BETTER. She is not a poster child for 'beauty'. But she IS beautiful.
Isabel's mother sees young girls who dress like prostitutes. She sees 12 year old girls trying to be 21. And she would much rather see her daughter grow up and be one ass kickin', bitchin' cool, freakin' so smart and amazing WOMAN than one of the 'beautiful' girls who want nothing more than to be an Abercrombie and Fitch model.
If any one of Isabel's brothers come home with a girl half as cool as she is going to be..this mother will be pretty happy.
See, I don't have multiple personalities. Just multiple kids. And they all have such different qualities~that the gift is trying to figure them out. Sometimes, I don't like what I discover. Sometimes, I am disappointed in them or even myself.
But the journey of walking their own map is my gift.
