Mom Blog and Baby Blog | Baby Bunching

and my bunch bickers on

As I'm unloading the dishwasher this morning, this is what I hear.

Child #1: I got the green cup.

Child #2: So.

Child #1: Isn't green your favorite color?

Child #2: So what.

Child #1: Ha ha.

Child #2: Bootie.

Child #1: Mom, Alex called me bootie!

Child #2: Schmootie. Tootie. Bootie. Frutti. Well, I have more cereal than you do.

Mom: No, everyone has the same cereal. Please no more names. Please eat your breakfast so we can get ready for school.

Child #1: No, Alex does have more than me. Boo hoo! That's not fair.

Child #2 get ups and does a crazy psycho dance in front of sister then flicks her. Child #1 pinches him back. Child #2 slugs his sister. She cries.

Take this scenario and put it:

--in front of the sink while brushing teeth/washing hands.

--in the bath (this is why my kids no longer bathe together)

--in the car. (my personal favorite!)

--at lunch

--at dinner

--while reading a story.

This is my day. Every day. They are now 4 1/2 and 5 1/2.

I know every sibling duo/trio does this, but when I was 5 my brother was only 2 so the dynamics were different. I'm predicting many, many more years of this. I've decided another side effect to Baby Bunching is elongated periods of sibling nonsense. My only consolation is that hopefully they outgrow it together, too.

I'm about to lose my mind. We've tried taking away marbles, losing privileges, timeouts, 1-2-3 Magic, separating them even threatening to leave by the side of the road for another family to pick up. The bickering goes on and on all day--most often at the table and in the car (where I can't run away). Just when I think I have it fixed it resurfaces. Fighting I can orchestrate, sometimes. But the constant back and forth is wearing me down, and I'm running out of creative ideas to end it or keep it from starting.

I'm taking any and all suggestions from others who are suffering this stage as well.

apparently what’s mine is yours

Except that there is no mine anymore. Apparently the minute I pushed each one of my Bunch from my womb, everything of mine became theirs, too. And why not? I just never really knew exactly what that meant. I didn't understand I was giving up the right to everything formerly known as "mine." Call me selfish.

I knew in advance my own time would never be my own again. That’s a given, right? And in the early baby days I willingly sacrificed my bed, my boobs, my sleep, my smaller purse, my personal space, my well being for my Bunch. As they grew, I gave up more sleep, my own food, my dignity for my toddlers. I’ve amazingly reclaimed so much of "me" from my kids now that they can do some things on their own, but I still find myself vying for SOMETHING that is mine.

As soon as I grab a few minutes to myself and sit down at the computer someone comes up asking if they can play PBSkids.org. I start to make a phone call while folding laundry and someone else needs to call grandma THAT very minute. This weekend when I sat down to make my grocery list, my daughter suddenly needed my pen and paper to write a note to Santa. While I’m putting on makeup, she declares it’s her makeup, too. Even my own stairs are not my own. My kids are going through some scared phase and the minute I start to make my way down the stairs they charge after me trying to beat me or cut in front of me. Don’t even try to sneak a snack because my children have noses like dogs. They will find wherever you are hiding with food and beg for some of their own. Even the space in my own car is not longer my own. As we drive to school, I quickly try to sneak a few minutes of NPR so at least I’m not totally ignorant of what’s going on, and before they can even detect what's coming from the radio someone screams, “WE WANT KID’S MUSIC!”

While relaying my frustration to Cara today, she explained how her oldest son began cutting the very newspaper page she was trying to read. Mine use magazines, newspaper, recipes, or lists as canvases for their next drawings.

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to share the computer, the phone, some food, the radio, the newspaper, the stairs...I do draw the line at my makeup...or even set some boundaries as to what they can and cannot have. I can only imagine as they get older what's actually mine becomes less and less. That is until they are old enought that they don't want to be seen with me anymore and just take my car instead.

another baby? inconceivable!

For some moms, Baby Bunching is an accidental by-product of prior fertility problems. After undergoing months or years of stress and heartbreak while trying to conceive their first child, many couples assume that post-baby birth control (breastfeeding is not 100%) or even attempting to plan for child number two are moot points.

We’ve talked with many moms who were preparing for fertility testing or actually went through this emotional rollercoaster of blood tests, hormone injections and even IVF before having their first child. After finally getting pregnant many then go on to assume their past difficulties of conceiving combined with breastfeeding mean chances of getting pregnant again immediately are slim. (Perhaps our obstetricians should start making us retake junior health class?)

Then there are the other Baby Bunching moms who are actually inspired to get a jump start on the second child because it was so difficult to conceive the first. This happens just about the time their first baby has fallen into a schedule that makes new moms think, ‘this gig really isn’t so bad, perhaps another would be nice.’ And then they throw caution to the wind one day after too much wine, forgetting that exclusive breastfeeding is not always reliable birth control.

This is exactly how I found my blessed with my Bunch. Two years of trying to conceive, one miscarriage and fertility tests and counseling unexpectedly brought us our first son. Absolutely sure that we’d never be so lucky again--with our doctor’s estimated 30% chance of ever conceiving naturally—we decided to get back in the saddle when my first was five months old. We were sure it would take us years to have another one. Two months later, we found out I was pregnant with our second.

This post is adapted from Linda’s article in Washington Parent Magazine.