One, Not So Lonely

I wonder, sometimes, what life would be like with one child. I can't imagine which one it would be, of course. Maybe it would be neither Maddie nor Riley, given that I don't think either of them would or could be who they are without the other.

When John and I found out I was pregnant with twins, the doctor told us at the very first ultrasound (six weeks?) that it was quite likely that one of the two babies would be gone by the eight-week visit, a vanishing twin. One embryo had a disturbingly low heart rate, a seemingly likely indicator of demise. But no, whichever one of them it was came back with a vengeance, and by eight weeks everyone was right on track and stayed there until the scheduled c-section.

I don't want to imply that I wish I didn't have twins. I have them, and I can't imagine my life without them. But I do wonder, sometimes, if I would be a better parent if I had only one child. Would I be more patient, more loving? If I had half as many questions coming my way, half as many demands, a way to always be one-on-one? There are times when I would love to crawl in bed with Maddie or Riley when I tuck them in, snuggle them to sleep, maybe doze off myself, but I know that whoever I didn't get in bed with would fret, feel less than, cry, whine, unconsoled by the idea that he or she would get a turn tomorrow. I wanted to be the parent whose kids had stamps in their passports before they could talk; traveling on my own with two kids is just now getting to a point where a passport-required trip could be considered. I rarely eat out with Maddie and Riley alone as there is too much logistical crazy and too little enjoyment. I can only take so many hours of having two people talk to me nonstop at the same time while I try to make dinner before I lose my temper and snap at someone.

Of course I'd sometimes lose my temper if I only had one kid. And yes, having kids makes things like travel and eating out harder whether you have one or multiples. That logistical stuff is what it is; what I find troublesome is how much being outnumbered seems to affect my parenting. It's so hard to give Maddie and Riley the individual focus they deserve. I often feel bad about how poorly I handle it. I need to find time to spend with Maddie and Riley as individuals, for all of our sake.

Compassion

I'm flummoxed when I encounter homeless people. I was raised with the idea that money given to the homeless is just wasted on booze and drugs, or that somehow people need to earn money, not get by on handouts. My parents do not have hearts of stone, nor did they ever explicitly say such things to me, but somehow I managed to become a young adult who felt saddened by the plight of those who had nowhere else to go yet stymied by their seeming inability to better their situation.

My thinking on this has progressed. Now, I'm mostly simply sympathetic. I mean, who wants to ask people for money and food to survive? But I'm not here to preach about how we should all be more charitable or engage in debate about giving money to panhandlers. Homelessness is a complex issue, and people can make their own decisions about what they can or can't do to help. I'm here to tell a story about compassion and parenting and about the kind of people I want to raise Maddie and Riley to be.

I took Maddie to the grocery store with me on Sunday afternoon. Riley stayed home with my dad, so it was just me and the Mads. I really enjoy the times I get to spend with either Maddie or Riley one-on-one; it's a rarity, and something I should be more mindful about making happen. As Maddie and I walked down the sidewalk to the store's entrance, I saw a man sitting out front, makeshift cardboard sign reading, "Homeless and hungry, anything helps" propped against his knees. "That man doesn't have a home," said Maddie, in the matter-of-fact way of a four year old. We've seen enough people with such signs and she's asked enough questions that she knows what's going on.

We went in the store and did our shopping. The guy was still there on the way out. "Would you like to give that man some money, Maddie?" I asked, on a whim. She lit up. "Oh! Yes! Then he could eat something!" I handed her a dollar and she took it right over.

"Here you go," she said, extending the money.
"Thank you, little one," the man kindly said in return, with a huge smile.
"I hope it helps a little," I added, somewhat lamely.
"It sure does. Take care of your beautiful family," he said.

And with that, we were off. Maddie clearly felt like she had changed the world. She talked about how next time, we could just buy him some food while we were in the store and give him that instead. Or how maybe some of the people who don't have a place to live could come stay at our house, or how we could give them some of our sheets and blankets.

I don't have an answer to the problem of homelessness, but I can say that it made both me and Maddie feel good to make one small gesture of compassion. I don't care if that guy spent that dollar on an apple or on cheap beer: he's doing the best he can, sitting there in the rain with his sign, and if that dollar helps, I'm glad to have given it. And I'm glad for Maddie to see that little acts of kindness matter, and for me to be reminded of this, too.

John was always the first person to open his wallet in these situations, and his generosity changed my thinking a lot. I am not often clear about what specific things John would have done as a parent, or about how I can honor his presence in Maddie and Riley's lives. This is one area where my footing feels sure.

And so it Goes

I was going to go to bed early and read, but then I thought, "No, I'll blog!" So here I am blogging and I have no idea what I'm going to say.

I've been exercising a lot, although mostly not running. I started a staff Pilates class at Reed, and it feels good to do something totally different for my body. I've also been doing the Jillian Michaels 30-Day Shred video every night with Z.

So, yeah, things are really exciting. Tonight I cleaned off the top of my fridge. See why I haven't been blogging?

We are, for the most part, navigating through each day with a good sense of routine. Z continues to be a stabilizing presence for us. Maddie and Riley enjoy school. I've been more productive at work, although I remain woefully behind on a few projects. I'm still poking around looking at houses online, still a little obsessed with the one I blogged about a couple of weeks ago. I guess I'm not obsessed enough to talk to a realtor or make an offer, though.

The wintertime Endless Cold finally caught up with us and there's been a lot of coughing among the four-year-old set. There has, however, been no sign of the popcorn kernel, so hopefully that situation is well and truly resolved.* We're considering going to family camp this summer; Maddie loves the idea and Riley is concerned that wolves might be hiding in the woods, waiting to eat us while we sleep in our cabin at night. The kids had the first of four skiing lessons; both seemed to love it, especially Riley who was on a total adrenaline high at the end of the day. Riley enjoyed his first Superbowl; interest in football remains high.

And so one day merges into another. Maddie is coughing now; I don't know how kids sleep through that. Tomorrow promises more of the same: hectic morning, work, school, hectic evening, an attempt at nighttime productivity, sleep. And so it goes, and so it goes.

*See post from January 11 for more on Kernel 2011. Short version: Riley put a popcorn kernel into an orifice that should not have a popcorn kernel in it and that while the indications were that the situation was resolved, no actual confirmation was made, so parental concern has lingered.