Life with Two...

A few weeks ago I went for a stroll in the mall with the two kids. When the newborn started to fuss, I went to the Mother’s Lounge to feed her. There I was, relaxing on the couch, Nathaniel next to me, who was playing with the “emergency” toy that I keep in my purse for him specifically when I am preoccupied with Jenuine and need him to sit still and behave. A first-time mother entered the lounge shortly after I sat down. Her five-month-old was crying. She started to change his diaper on the change table, meanwhile he was wailing incessantly. We conversed, and then she looked at me and my two kids, and said, “How do you handle two?”

I must say, I was amused by her question. Because just weeks earlier, I would have been the one asking any mother with more than one child the exact same question. Just weeks earlier, still pregnant, I was worrying and anxious about how I was going to do it.

The newborn is ten weeks old now. And while there are moments when I am unsuccessful with getting the two kids to nap at precisely the same hour, and therefore do not have a chance to nap myself (which makes for an extremely tiring afternoon and anticipation for the husband to come home), I am amazed at and thankful for how quickly one is able to adapt in situations such as these.

In a matter of weeks, you figure out what “works.” You learn when to fit in the shower, the baths for the kids. You learn to intersperse dinner preparation throughout the day rather than waiting for dinnertime to prepare for the evening meal. You learn to somehow feed the toddler and get him to play on his own at precisely the moment when you need to tend to the newborn.

While I may not have reacted or responded as I should have during those initial weeks when Nathaniel was exhibiting extreme manifestations of jealousy, I learned. Slowly and steadily, I learned. There was one afternoon when Nathaniel saw me carrying Jenuine up the stairs to put her to sleep. He began screaming for me and wouldn’t stop. I gave him a chance. I told him to come with me, but he refused to. So I left him downstairs. He cried and cried and cried until I came down. To the point that when he finally stood up, a gigantic puddle of water sat on the hardwood floor where he was lying.

Almost eleven weeks, the jealous behaviour still surfaces from time to time, but with some love, affection, and discipline, his behaviour has improved. The tantrums and screaming sometimes take place, but the duration is much shorter. Me? I have had to learn to control my anger. Sometimes, I get upset when Nathaniel expresses his jealousy. I felt that I had spent a good amount of time with him (I try to whenever Jenuine is sleeping), and for him to exhibit such behaviour irritated me. I have had to learn more patience too.

After the mother that I had met in the Mother’s Lounge changed her baby, she told the baby that she needed to go to the washroom. The baby was, of course, unconcerned about the mother’s need. He continued to wail and flail his arms and legs. The mother sighed and decided not to go to the washroom. I couldn’t help but say to her, “If you have to go, you have to go.” The mother hesitated. Then shook her head and decided to wait until the baby stopped crying. The baby didn't. She left the washroom, not having gone.

I smiled, sympathetic and empathetic of the mother’s plight.

Mothers say that the second time around is a lot easier. They are right. With Nathaniel, I was very uncomfortable with his crying. It vexed me. It was only when some time had passed that I was okay with doing chores and tending to my own needs, meanwhile, leaving him to cry. It comes to the point when you realize you have no choice. And with two now—this is all the more true.

Though I know there will be new challenges that surface—life is more settled now. I am thankful for the support of family and friends, which I know not every mother has the luxury of having. I know I have said this many times, but I’ll say it again—I don’t know where I’d be without God’s Word to comfort and guide me.

The past week, reading news headlines about reports of mothers taking the lives of their children because of the pressure, the psychological stress, the pressing demands—it terrified me. At first, I quietly questioned God, “What kind of world is this—that we have parents murdering their own children?” But then I reflected further. What kind of dark world must the mother be living in, with no family or friends, and worse— no God—to give her the strength and hope when she most desperately needs it?

The harvest is plenty, but the labourers are few. I know God has called me to stay home to raise, love, teach, and nurture my children. During the moments when I feel overwhelmed by the labour, I pray for God to infuse strength in me. In these moments, my heavenly Father grants me a vision of what He desires for my children and it is incredible how bright this vision burns in my mind. I pray that this vision sustains, that it can withstand the exhaustion that comes with mothering, the judgments that come from those who do not hold the same values as me. With God as my strength, I will persevere.

For everything there is a season...

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

The husband recently bought a digital frame to put in our family room. For several weeks, he spent hours uploading photos onto it, dating back as far as a decade ago. When the digital frame first became popular, I was not at all interested in using it to showcase our family pictures. I found the tool impersonal, cold, nothing like the framed pictures that I have on our room walls or the gallery displayed along our staircase. The traditional way of keeping our pictures was more intimate; when placed alongside each other in a particular configuration, they could even tell a story.

Lee put the digital frame next to our television, so in the evenings, when we’re watching something, I could see the pictures flashing before me, one after the other. I guess I never have the time to pick up an album now, or go through our hard drive to see the thousands of pictures we’ve accumulated, so I didn’t expect that I would feel nostalgic upon seeing the many pictures that Lee had uploaded.

In particular, I forgot how many things Lee and I did together before the kids were around. Back to our dating days, even the three years before Nathaniel and Jenuine became part of our family—we had traveled to Mexico, Hong Kong, Italy and France (honeymoon), gone to baseball games, skiing, musicals, played on the church softball team together, taken road trips...

It wasn’t that I had forgotten that we had done these things, but that I had forgotten what we were like before the kids came into the picture. Even though it has only been a little over two years, I suddenly began to long for the intimacy that we once had. During meals now, or even sitting amidst the pews during church service, we’ve got at least one kid between us. I wondered—how long would it be before we could do all that stuff again—he and I?

Granted, I am thankful for where I am now. I know that my friends who do not have children look at us and are grateful that they still have the freedom that they do. I understand—I was like that too. But now—I am taking joy in the present—in my children growing up, in watching my husband coming home from work and relishing in the smiles and adorable faces of his children—and God willing, in the future that we are building with our new family dynamic.

I am blessed to have grown up in a loving family. My mom did everything she could to keep us close. She was the glue in our family. She planned all the family trips during summers and Christmases. I even remember what it was like hanging out with my sister and brother. It was almost like it didn’t matter where we were—we three siblings would have fun even being stuck in the hotel room, at night, with our junk food, board games—talking nonsense into the camcorder as we made short videos of our time away from home.

God willing—when Nathaniel and Jenuine are older—I can’t wait until the family that Lee and I are raising can do the same things, nurturing the same intimacy that I was so familiar with growing up as a child.

And in time, I am sure that Lee and I will be able to know what it’s like to be with each other again—without the crazy demands of raising two children.

The passage in Ecclesiastes offers great wisdom and comfort. For everything there is, indeed, a season, and for every season, I must always remember to be thankful.