Not every day is a good day. Some days I get up on the wrong side of the bed (oh, I mean off the mattress in the Bean's room where I have been since 2 a.m.). I am cranky and so are the boys. I get nothing done, I am hot and tired and thinking that the cycle of feeds and aching feet and back will never end. I get left alone with babies that refuse to nap and when they finally go down it is not at the same time. Husband comes home late and also had a bad day. There is nothing to eat in the kitchen. I watch everyone else go about their business and think about how I will never be first again in my life. The boys go schizo after a few minutes of the most fun family time we've ever had and we cannot get them to stop (babies are more unpredictable than crack heads sometimes, I swear.) We get them to sleep (until 11 at least) and I hop on here to write because I have to let it out in some forum. It has just been a bad day. Lest you think we are all smiles and light here in the Bean household, I have now dispelled the myth. Sorry, no pictures of this day, I'd rather just forget it anyway. I think I'll go knit now. Even though my hands hurt (Okay, enough, Amiee). Bye.
I just thought about the cuteness of the boys in those previous pictures and I realized Mamas are as schizo as the babies they love. Part and parcel of this whole thing, eh?
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Uuuum, Adorable
I had to post this because our little Mason mastered the art of the 90 degree head lift. He looks excited about it, eh? Owen's been on it for at least a week now, but he seems to be the physical one. 
My lovely friend with triplets has a great saying, "They each will shine in their own time." I love thinking that, it is not that I worry, more so that we get to watch the development of two little people.
So, good job, kiddies. And you do not want to know the amount of vomit that exited Mason after this photo. Whew!
My lovely friend with triplets has a great saying, "They each will shine in their own time." I love thinking that, it is not that I worry, more so that we get to watch the development of two little people.
So, good job, kiddies. And you do not want to know the amount of vomit that exited Mason after this photo. Whew!
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Mi Familia
Last weekend the final member of my immediate family met the Beans. My littlest sister (there is one in between) came down from Humboldt to meet her nephews. She ended up driving down with my other (middle) sister. She was so excited to be able to come to us (she is a VIP at her workplace and lives a 12 hour drive away so this was no easy feat). Since their birth she has been perusing their photos on Flickr and just dying to hold them. And I have to say she was the natural with them that I thought she would be.
It was an awesome family weekend with a trip to the beach, (any families looking for a great orange county beach should check out Salt Creek; grassy knolls, sandy beach and flush toilets. amen.) a lot of food and some extra time to sit in the backyard and talk over drinks, finally enjoying a bit of the summer nights. We had a delicious BBQ Saturday night. My middle sis, Manders, made sinfully creamy potatoes (ahhh, how I miss the calories breastfeeding burned off). My little sister is an excellent baker and prepared a light summer dessert
that we basically inhaled in a few minutes. There is a policy in our house, it stems from growing up with 8 siblings in one place at feeding times…it is “Get it while you can,“ it may not be pretty, but we are effective at not leaving leftovers.
I cannot complain about not having enough hands around to help, but there is something about having my sisters. There is an easiness with them. Watching them hold the Beans, watching them feeding and talking and playing with my sons, it made me realize there is no one like family out there. I loved it and they loved it and it was all good. One thing made me laugh. Little sis helped me out for the better part of Friday, the next day she commented on the intensity of caring for them…I guess I have just gotten used to it. For the most part.
I have so much to be grateful for. These boys are experiencing the world around them just as I had hoped. Lately my younger brothers have been sharing and caring, becoming more comfortable with the babies. They are in their late teens and are just about the age I was when they were born. They are stellar young men, really special.
I love watching their interactions with the boys, and the boys are truly fascinated by them too. I don’t know if it is their sheer size or something, the Beans are always riveted on them. I tend to think this is the best birth control ever…for my brothers to witness the reality of ‘baby’ before heading off to college and out into the world. It sure worked for me, Tim and I waited 12 years before entertaining the idea of parenthood. As tough as living communally can be at times, the sheer amount of extra hands around ensures some time out for this mama, and I really believe it makes a difference in the lives of our children. They have so many loving people who cherish them, not in a doting fashion, but in a lovely and supportive way.
Oddly enough, I feel like the house is empty half the time. You have to understand that I grew up here with 9 other people in constant attendance, not to mention the periods when my mom had a home daycare, or when waves of friends would descend on the place because they know how we cook here. Dinner was often served daily for 10-14 people, all sitting together at the table and sharing. Just a regular meal…not a holiday celebration. In the last few years, as we spread out a bit, bought houses, moved around, the number dwindled to 6-8, an adjustment, to be sure. 
But now, well, often there are only 5-7 at the table….and there are some days when it is just Tim and I. We are already having the Beans sit in their captain chairs while we eat together at the evening meal, just to encourage and introduce them to the idea of eating as a family. So, I guess we can count them.It is a blessing and a challenge to grow up with a family of my size. It helps that we like each other. But I am finding that I miss my siblings more than ever lately. I did not feel this way in my early 20s when we all were establishing ourselves and our lives, we shared them but did not always have to be near.
Now, with the boys, I wish I could gather the further ones closer so we could drop in on each other whenever. I wish my sisters were around the corner and that those rare family dinners occurred frequently. It is enough to see them when we do, but also not enough. I love that in our lives we have little desire to compete with each other, rather we support each other. There is a possibility my middle sister will come to stay a bit with us , just the idea makes me giddy. And she knows how to sew, and she has a rad machine. I told her not to tease me with the possibility…just to come back if she can. But it really brings home the fact that my family is my foundation. Tim and I have fostered a life with these people. It is a good life.
I can truly say now the Beans have been introduced into the world that will be theirs. They have met and been held and cared for by the people who will be their mainstays. Their uncles (all 5 of those crazy guys) will be taking them surfing and camping and skateboarding and lego-ing (you should see the size of the storage box in the garage). Their aunts will cook and sew for them. Their GP’s will love them and watch them. And their parents will get the occasional breather to sit down together, gaze across a table at Café Allegro and smile at the blessings brought our way. What can be better than family? Not much.
A huge and loving thank you to any and all family members reading this today. You make our lives lovely. Kisses and hugs from family Yates.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Third Month
The third time is the charm, that is what they say. It is passing quickly, boys, and this third month has taught me an important lesson. It is one of Instinct. We are so conditioned in this day and age to forget, ignore, shun or avoid Instinct. I, usually one who feels attuned to this side of myself, fell into the trap. You know the one (or if I can help it you won’t have to know), it is that voice of our current culture, the one that says it knows best.
You see, it started with those dang baby magazines, with splashy ads and made up mommies, with tidbits of advice and catchy articles about how to make baby sleep. The message was that this parenting thing could be handled by perusing a scant 40 page mag on a monthly basis and, of course, getting the latest thing to help baby along. The glossiness of it all is so well packaged these days, you almost believe it. Not to sound too cynical, but these mags are better left in the waiting room at the O.B.’s. Wouldn’t you know Mama brought them all home. To my credit, I did not keep them all, just tore out the pages of the cutest stuff.
Well, then we moved on to the well-meaning books putting forth theories on the ‘right’ way to raise a baby. They claim there is a way to create the happiest,
cutest, calmest, smartest baby there could be. Oh, the books, they mean well, each author has walked the path of parenthood and has something to say, some sage advice that works, really works. They forget they base their work on their own personal instinct that bears their unique shape, form, and flavor of life. I cannot say that their methods do not work, but I cannot say that their methods do. I did not even know I was looking for an instruction manual until I picked up these books. I remember reading them before thinking, “This is so great! All I have to do is this and all will go well.” Such naiveté, to think raising a baby could be encompassed in a book.
And then there is the Tribe. The Tribe that gathers when a new life comes here to us. This Tribe can be close family or it can be that random person in Costco. The people out there with words and words that tell you true to form every thing that went well and every thing that did not, every tip tried and every tip that failed for them. And the Tribe means so well, usually. They do not hear what they say when they say, “Oh, twins, that must be so hard. I cannot imagine. Etc, etc…“ or the comments of “Double trouble” or “Just you wait…“. The Tribe loves to talk and, at times, they hear not what they say.
The occasional whisper of ‘You will know what is right’ is voiced, but it can drown in the sea of advice, articles and information. It can be swept away by a culture of fear that tells you not to raise a clingy child, put a baby on their belly or touch the world out there without then sterilizing yourself before coming to your baby. Those whispers can be drowned by the swirls of thought that race round the mind saying, “I am not doing this right, I am fucking up something, I cannot do this, I do not know how.”
And then it can all be silenced by taking a deep breath and focusing…on your eyes, your softest cheek ever, the limbs that are growing and changing into sturdy little plump deliciousness that Mama gets to gobble on whenever she wants. And the breathlessness stops, and the breathing from the heart begins.
Books may say you are ‘Touchy’ or ‘Spirited’, but you are Mason to me, a person not a personality. I know you better each day. I know there are days when nap means Mama next to you with your hand clutching the neck of my shirt and your feet buried into the tummy with the soft stretched skin that once held you. There are days when you can lay and move for what seems forever, waving your tiny arms, white fisted at the ends, looking like you are driving a race car (as coined by a flickr viewer), giggling and chuckling and cooing away. And the ever-seeking of the thumb now, I watch as you get it, lose it, get it again and I see real consternation in your facial expression. And like your Mama, you smile all the time, whether you want to or not. I see it already, that you will walk like me through life, with that smile. It is not fake, but in some ways obligatory.
Books may say you are “Grouchy’ or ‘Sensitive’ but you are Owen to me. You can chill, kid, you have the gift of stillness. You prefer to be in a C shape, whether lateral or backward, but all led by the whopping weight of a head that must contain the brains of a future Einstein. You are fascinated by shadow, light, windows and the occasional blank ceiling that I think you paint in your own mind. We speculate that a career in architecture may be in your future, that is how taken you appear with the structure of every room you visit. You cannot be commanded in any way, if the wall behind me is lit up, you will prefer it over any goo-goo or giggles. But when you do talk to us, it is in all seriousness, as if you bestow words of wisdom with your babbles. And you are babbling now, the cooing becomes less each day.
And at this point I have to mention the ceiling fan. When you are grown I am sure we will refer to ‘Fan’tasia…your first girlfriend and you will wonder what we speak of. Your crazy parents are referring to the Mission style ceiling fan (currently sans electrical wiring) that graces the Front room, aka New Baby Central since moving you out of Daddy and Mama’s room.
Ah, Fanny, how she fascinates you with her sleek dark arms extended and her iridescent glass winking down on you. How your gazes linger on her, we are quite unable to tear your attention away at times. You lay at her feet and smile and flirt, hence the reference to her as your girlfriend. I wonder if her lines are now etched in your little mind’s eyes, your first lesson in geometric shapes. We wonder what you will do on the day we finish her installation and those wonderful dark arms start spinning. Will it delight or confuse, or a little of both? This silly speculation is actually part of a bigger thing, the development of your minds. We witness daily the changes occurring in your ability to take in the environment. It is such an honor to observe and facilitate this, your perception and relationship to this world. The privilege and responsibility of parenting you two does not sit lightly on us, but is does sit easily.
And so we return to the idea of Instinct. Because we all have it,
maybe some more than others, maybe some listen to it better than others. With the encouragement of Tim and my Mom (who has successfully raised 8 children, I might add) I have tried to drop the expectation/anticipation/desire to have you both fit into a program and just started to listen to your needs as you develop into the individuals that you are and will be. I have begun to loosen my hold on the conviction that a short nap will result in stunted growth, to relax when you need me to hold you more on certain days, and to just stop wishing you would sleep through the night. Who needs sleep anyway, especially consecutive sleep of more than two hours? Overrated. I also folded and we ordered satellite TV (first time in years in our home) because I have only enough attention for 30 minute home shows and I absolutely love Little People, Big World.
Because of these decisions, the breathlessness has stopped being a factor. I have
found time to perform a Sun Salutation without regretting the time it is taking up. I have been able to sleep without mindless worries racing around the cranium. I think in other societies there was a circle of wisdom that was shared in the raising of their children, there was a wealth of information and experience that was shared and modeled directly, generationally. In our day, with the lack of extended family, the dearth of shared space and lives, we grasp at anything that will help us do this right. Magazines, books and passing advice is what is readily available, sometimes the only thing new parents have. But I have access to some of the greatest support and experience right here, in my own home. I have learned this month to trust that…trust Me more, listen carefully to the Instinct and listen carefully to my sons and their requests to be; be helped, be heard, just be. It does not mean I will do it any better than any other Mama out there, but I will do it with a guidance I felt lacking before because I was not listening to my Self.
I want to promise you both that I will try to stay in this, this new listening. That I will recall to breathe when things go haywire, when I cannot please you both at the same time, when I cannot get ‘things’ done. I want to promise to rest enough to come to you ready. I will try. And we will all be just fine.
Mama loves you, my baby boys. Every bit of this becomes more poignant as I realize that the time passing now will never be again. Onward to month four, let us see what it holds.
You see, it started with those dang baby magazines, with splashy ads and made up mommies, with tidbits of advice and catchy articles about how to make baby sleep. The message was that this parenting thing could be handled by perusing a scant 40 page mag on a monthly basis and, of course, getting the latest thing to help baby along. The glossiness of it all is so well packaged these days, you almost believe it. Not to sound too cynical, but these mags are better left in the waiting room at the O.B.’s. Wouldn’t you know Mama brought them all home. To my credit, I did not keep them all, just tore out the pages of the cutest stuff.
Well, then we moved on to the well-meaning books putting forth theories on the ‘right’ way to raise a baby. They claim there is a way to create the happiest,
cutest, calmest, smartest baby there could be. Oh, the books, they mean well, each author has walked the path of parenthood and has something to say, some sage advice that works, really works. They forget they base their work on their own personal instinct that bears their unique shape, form, and flavor of life. I cannot say that their methods do not work, but I cannot say that their methods do. I did not even know I was looking for an instruction manual until I picked up these books. I remember reading them before thinking, “This is so great! All I have to do is this and all will go well.” Such naiveté, to think raising a baby could be encompassed in a book.And then there is the Tribe. The Tribe that gathers when a new life comes here to us. This Tribe can be close family or it can be that random person in Costco. The people out there with words and words that tell you true to form every thing that went well and every thing that did not, every tip tried and every tip that failed for them. And the Tribe means so well, usually. They do not hear what they say when they say, “Oh, twins, that must be so hard. I cannot imagine. Etc, etc…“ or the comments of “Double trouble” or “Just you wait…“. The Tribe loves to talk and, at times, they hear not what they say.
The occasional whisper of ‘You will know what is right’ is voiced, but it can drown in the sea of advice, articles and information. It can be swept away by a culture of fear that tells you not to raise a clingy child, put a baby on their belly or touch the world out there without then sterilizing yourself before coming to your baby. Those whispers can be drowned by the swirls of thought that race round the mind saying, “I am not doing this right, I am fucking up something, I cannot do this, I do not know how.”
And then it can all be silenced by taking a deep breath and focusing…on your eyes, your softest cheek ever, the limbs that are growing and changing into sturdy little plump deliciousness that Mama gets to gobble on whenever she wants. And the breathlessness stops, and the breathing from the heart begins.
Books may say you are ‘Touchy’ or ‘Spirited’, but you are Mason to me, a person not a personality. I know you better each day. I know there are days when nap means Mama next to you with your hand clutching the neck of my shirt and your feet buried into the tummy with the soft stretched skin that once held you. There are days when you can lay and move for what seems forever, waving your tiny arms, white fisted at the ends, looking like you are driving a race car (as coined by a flickr viewer), giggling and chuckling and cooing away. And the ever-seeking of the thumb now, I watch as you get it, lose it, get it again and I see real consternation in your facial expression. And like your Mama, you smile all the time, whether you want to or not. I see it already, that you will walk like me through life, with that smile. It is not fake, but in some ways obligatory.
Books may say you are “Grouchy’ or ‘Sensitive’ but you are Owen to me. You can chill, kid, you have the gift of stillness. You prefer to be in a C shape, whether lateral or backward, but all led by the whopping weight of a head that must contain the brains of a future Einstein. You are fascinated by shadow, light, windows and the occasional blank ceiling that I think you paint in your own mind. We speculate that a career in architecture may be in your future, that is how taken you appear with the structure of every room you visit. You cannot be commanded in any way, if the wall behind me is lit up, you will prefer it over any goo-goo or giggles. But when you do talk to us, it is in all seriousness, as if you bestow words of wisdom with your babbles. And you are babbling now, the cooing becomes less each day.
And at this point I have to mention the ceiling fan. When you are grown I am sure we will refer to ‘Fan’tasia…your first girlfriend and you will wonder what we speak of. Your crazy parents are referring to the Mission style ceiling fan (currently sans electrical wiring) that graces the Front room, aka New Baby Central since moving you out of Daddy and Mama’s room.
Ah, Fanny, how she fascinates you with her sleek dark arms extended and her iridescent glass winking down on you. How your gazes linger on her, we are quite unable to tear your attention away at times. You lay at her feet and smile and flirt, hence the reference to her as your girlfriend. I wonder if her lines are now etched in your little mind’s eyes, your first lesson in geometric shapes. We wonder what you will do on the day we finish her installation and those wonderful dark arms start spinning. Will it delight or confuse, or a little of both? This silly speculation is actually part of a bigger thing, the development of your minds. We witness daily the changes occurring in your ability to take in the environment. It is such an honor to observe and facilitate this, your perception and relationship to this world. The privilege and responsibility of parenting you two does not sit lightly on us, but is does sit easily.
And so we return to the idea of Instinct. Because we all have it,
maybe some more than others, maybe some listen to it better than others. With the encouragement of Tim and my Mom (who has successfully raised 8 children, I might add) I have tried to drop the expectation/anticipation/desire to have you both fit into a program and just started to listen to your needs as you develop into the individuals that you are and will be. I have begun to loosen my hold on the conviction that a short nap will result in stunted growth, to relax when you need me to hold you more on certain days, and to just stop wishing you would sleep through the night. Who needs sleep anyway, especially consecutive sleep of more than two hours? Overrated. I also folded and we ordered satellite TV (first time in years in our home) because I have only enough attention for 30 minute home shows and I absolutely love Little People, Big World.Because of these decisions, the breathlessness has stopped being a factor. I have
found time to perform a Sun Salutation without regretting the time it is taking up. I have been able to sleep without mindless worries racing around the cranium. I think in other societies there was a circle of wisdom that was shared in the raising of their children, there was a wealth of information and experience that was shared and modeled directly, generationally. In our day, with the lack of extended family, the dearth of shared space and lives, we grasp at anything that will help us do this right. Magazines, books and passing advice is what is readily available, sometimes the only thing new parents have. But I have access to some of the greatest support and experience right here, in my own home. I have learned this month to trust that…trust Me more, listen carefully to the Instinct and listen carefully to my sons and their requests to be; be helped, be heard, just be. It does not mean I will do it any better than any other Mama out there, but I will do it with a guidance I felt lacking before because I was not listening to my Self. I want to promise you both that I will try to stay in this, this new listening. That I will recall to breathe when things go haywire, when I cannot please you both at the same time, when I cannot get ‘things’ done. I want to promise to rest enough to come to you ready. I will try. And we will all be just fine.
Mama loves you, my baby boys. Every bit of this becomes more poignant as I realize that the time passing now will never be again. Onward to month four, let us see what it holds.
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