The final countdown

The final weeks are here. There've been false alarms and trips to the hospital with our fingers and toes crossed that Muffin hasn't decided to come before the oven bell dings. So, I'm expected to try and rest as much as possible and suffer as little aggravation as possible.

In principle, that sounds really easy. Go on leave and chill till it's time to pop. But that's not taking into consideration two children under three who need their Mommy and already sense that there is some awry and feel the impending doom of a sibling. Evan especially seems to have his antennae up and I suspect that's why he's been acting up. Of course, there's the issue of the new school but even before we started the new school, there were tantrums up the wazoo.

Thankfully there is family support. But at the same time, that support also requires me to make decisions that are against my instincts as a mother although my more self-centred, selfish self are more than ready to make these decisions since they allow me to have more "ME" time.

The grandparents have very kindly offered to move the twins over to their house to stay till I deliver. This is so that I don't have to get up at nights and wrestle with the children while they battle with the idea of going to school. It is chaotic in the morning to say the least and just trying to get them dressed and fed is enough to start the contractions going. So, if I didn't have to deal with that in the morning or stumble out of bed to deal with nightmares about thunder and cranberries and yogurt (my son has my overactive dream imagination!), I would definitely be in a better position to incubate the muffin for a longer period.

That's where my connudrum lies. As Packrat reminds me, I have a responsibility to the little Muffin, to grow the Muffin to the best of my ability. But at the same time, I worry that if I do that, my already insecure son might act up even more if he thinks that Mommy has chucked him with the grandparents. And worse when he realises that while Mommy was off somewhere else and had chucked him, Mommy found herself another baby to replace him and his sister.

So what do I do? Look after myself and the Muffin exclusively or make sure that the twins don't feel neglected and try as hard as possible to find a compromise where I don't stress myself out too much looking after them and chasing them and still giving myself and Muffin the opportunity to grow.

It's tough to be a mom. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.


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