OK I have a small confession to make. I am not technically
living with six children yet. My older two girls are still away at sleep away
camp until Wednesday. On Wednesday I will start to understand the full consequences
of my reproductive actions, and probably begin to cry a lot. Friends and family
beware.
It’s the 12-passenger Mercedes Sprinter. Not allowed on
certain highways. Crazy.
In wondering how my two older children, Gabby and Caroline,
are going to react to the new car we need to get (still undecided) but more so
to the new family unit they will find when they come home, I find myself
remembering back to the night we first told them I was pregnant with twins.
You see, this pregnancy was really the first time I had older
children with whom to share the news. The last time I had told them I was
pregnant with what turned out to be my daughter Lily, my other three girls were
5, 3 and 2. They weren’t involved players yet. In fact, my then 3-year-old Caroline
simply crapped in her pants on the spot as soon as we told her. Literally. And
of course, my husband, with that oh-so-intuitive paternal instinct, did not
think the news we had shared had anything to do with it. What is it with men
and psychology?
But this time was different.
“Girls,” we said to them one Thursday night in mid January
as we sat around the dining room table, “we have some exciting news for you.”
“We’re getting Netflix?” my then 7-year-old Caroline asked,
her eyes lighting up.
“No, something different,” Rob answered.
“You got Knicks tickets? My oldest Gabby asked.
“No, more exciting than that. Something about mommy.”
“You’re having a baby?” Gabby said, raising her eyebrows in
disbelief.
“Yes,” we said.
Gabby and Caroline both smiled. Sophie, who was 6, looked
pale, and three-year-old Lily looked confused. But they all erupted into a
loud, energetic, nervous cheer, and started dancing around the table with Rob, shaking
their booties and singing some made up “we’re having a baby” song, signature
Rob improv.
“Can I go video chat with my friends and tell them?” Gabby
asked.
“Wait,” we said. We still hadn’t broken the second piece of
news yet. The twins part.
As the dancing slowed down, Rob said “we have another
surprise for you.”
“We’re also getting Netflix?” Caroline asked. She’s a little
spacy that way.
“No, something also about Mommy.”
They looked puzzled, and so Rob said “we’re having a baby.”
“You told us that already,” they all said.
“Yeah, but we’re having a baby and we’re having another
baby,” Rob answered.
“Twins?” Gabby asked.
“Yes!” Rob shouted with excitement.
But this time none of the kids cheered or sang with him.
Silence. Complete silence.
“What????” Gabby asked us like we were freaks. “We’re gonna
have six children in our family? That’s really weird. Who has six children?”
Then she panicked. “Are we going to have to leave the city?”
“No, of course not,” we said, not having a clue how the hell
not.
“But am I going to ever have my own room?” Yes, Gabby is a
classic first born, but Rob and I tolerate it because we’re both also firstborns.
“Hopefully you will,” I told her, thinking it wasn’t the best time to say
“probably not.”
Caroline, in her inimitable sweet way said, “are you going
to have any time left to spend with me?”
“Of course,” I said, while thinking “no way, I’m not going
to have time for any of you. I’ll be lucky enough to be able to go to the
bathroom.”
Sophie started crying and said, “how could you and daddy decide
to have more babies and not even ask us? I don’t want any more children in this
house,” she shouted angrily.
And Lily asked if the babies could sleep on a blow-up
mattress in her room “tomorrow.” Four girls. Four different ages and stages.
Four different reactions.
Lily and Sophie have had a few weeks to start digesting the
reality of what’s taken place. And it’s not sitting well. They come off the
camp bus each day rolling their eyes at me and saying “I hate you mommy.” They
ask me to go for a bike ride, or play a game, or give them a bath, and usually I
can’t because I’m nursing or pumping—since I’m always nursing or pumping-- and
then they tell me again, “I hate you mommy.” In fact, last night Sophie said,
“mommy, you should take a vacation by yourself and leave us just with daddy.”
Rob insightfully wonders where this anger is suddenly coming from.
On Wednesday, another bus will bring home two more, and I
will have two more reactions to deal with, two more lives I am once again
responsible for, two more children for whom I must make time. Wish me luck.
Erica, great piece as usual...when does rob start blogging his perspective on things? I'm hearing rumors of a live pump-cam launching soon - can you confirm or deny?
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