Mothergoosemouse wrote a thought-provoking piece about mothering two children a few weeks back. In it, she discusses feeling a little guilty that her second baby was easier for her (mostly because of her situation, not because of the baby’s temperament).

And I know exactly what she means. When I had my twins, I was in a very new teetery tottery relationship (total time together once the twin tidal wave hit: 13 months) and our love castle it turned out was built on sand. So the easy-ness and joy of sweet V 3 1/2 years later sometimes made me feel guilty. I actually enjoyed myself the second time around.

Meanwhile, all of a sudden, it seems I’m mother to three children. How did it happen? Who are these small people who need me to feed them and call me “Mommy”? It’s so surreal. I’m not sure if it’s a function of having twins or starting my family in my nearly mid-30s, but honestly sometimes I look up and see these three beautiful loud talkative girls and I wonder how it’s possible they are all mine… And the mechanics and logistics of raising three children is so, well, loud and complicated, sometimes I feel like I run nonstop from morning until night.

And I know it’s supposed to get easier when they’re older and the fact that none of them are in school yet exacerbates an already relatively demanding situation. When my friends with one child complain about their plight there is a part of me that thinks “ahh… you THINK you have it tough now, just WAIT!” but then I don’t want to be some bitter naysayer negatisma.

Here are a few things that go by the wayside once you have more than one child:

1. An ability to complete any sentence or conversation without being interrupted 800 times
2. Sleep
3. Cleanliness and Order - Yours, theirs, the house, the yard. I see people with children with combed hair and it’s as if I’m watching someone from another planet
4. Quiet
5. Sitting down

In return, here is what you experience:
1. Children who play together and keep each other entertained — those belly laughs are so priceless
2. The chance to be the sun and moon to what feels like an entire chorus full of little angelly devils
3. The opportunity to seem EXTRA impressive if you DON”T wear a mumu and occasionally even look cute.
4. Get out of jail free card - This is all the credit you get for doing ANYTHING at all (You work? wow! You write? Incredible!).
5. When you walk down the street holding little hands and they follow after you like sweet little ducklings, you feel so proud and strong and important.
6. More kids makes family feel so much more like family.
7. You surrender any illusion you had before of having an orderly life.

How about you? What do you think of having more than one child?

Ah.. the Sonnets. A perfect end to a wild day… We met with the Soul Enacter, and as with so many of life’s kookiest people, he ended up quite lovely and sharp and insight (incite)ful. Though, honestly, why couldn’t my “issue’ have a better name than “Chaos”?? How about “butterfly” or “gypsy” or “Clarissa”?

Sonnet XXIX (which is # 823.456, I think)

When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,
I alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends
possess’d,

Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hyms at heaven’s gate;

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

-Shakespeare

*****

Do you have a child that is harder for you to understand than your others? I do and she is one half of the dynamic twin duo. J is the one that has me rushing back to my Touchpoints books, praying to God, ulcerating my worry bone, and generally fretting my way into gray hair. And she’s many many years yet away from driving a car or dating a boy (or a girl). She is arguably the least happy of my kids and I waffle between accepting the trick of temperament by birth and wanting to see her smile deeply 10 hours a day.

She is most likely to get into a fray with other children and sometimes has a mean streak. She is one child that seems to have been born into this world as an old soul, but not an old peaceful zen soul, an old grumpy cynical one. Sometimes she looks at me like she were a 16 year old and I just took away her car keys. In fact, she’s 5 and I’ve just refused to allow her to watch “Dora.”

Before bed, J is thoughtful and quiet and occasionally shares her fears and dreams with me. They are dreams of candy and swim class and grandmas, but her fears, they are disturbing and involve people dying and leaving her. Even if these are (according to my reading) somewhat common for her age, they are disturbing thoughts to hear your cherub utter in the dark.

Sometimes I feel that I’ve been given J, a human puzzle, to keep me sharp and on my toes. If I can love her more and help her feel happier and more secure, no other success will ever mean as much to me.