Mom Blog and Baby Blog | Baby Bunching

baby bunching pep talk

Up until now, one of the wackiest Baby Bunching stories I'd heard of was a friend of mine who was in the process of adopting a baby after years of infertility, when she suddenly found herself pregnant - making her two daughters 6 months apart (and I know we have at least one reader who shares this unique situation).  Yesterday, my mom called to tell me of an acquaintance she had recently made whose biological children are 5 months apart.  Yep - you read that right.  In this case, after years of infertility, the parents were preparing to welcome a child via surrogate when the mom got pregnant.  It's so crazy that despite all of our plotting and planning, Mother Nature still manages to keep us on our toes when determining who gets a visit from the stork and when.  Baby Bunching is sometimes planned, sometimes not, but almost always really, really hard for those first couple of years.  

I remember back when, as a newly minted Baby Buncher, I was taking my second son to the pediatrician for the first time at just 4 days old. Hubby had a "can't miss" work meeting, which left me to take both boys to the doctor's office with my mom's assistance.  It may have been a twinge of post-partum blues, but at one point during the visit I almost had a breakdown when I caught my mom looking at me with a look that just screamed, "How in the hell are you going to do this on your own?"  With a husband who traveled frequently and family who were in town for the birth, but actually lived 4 states away, I really was kind of on my own.  And the birth of #2 pre-dated my super duper mom friend network - I was just beginning to befriend the women that I now consider part of my extended family.

At that moment, I mainly wanted to cry because what I needed to hear was, "You can do it." But with no mom friends who had traveled this path before me, there wasn't anyone to tell me that I could do it.  I have never missed my grandmother (who had 4 children in 27 months) more than in those first few months when I just needed someone to tell me that while lots of babies at once may eat you alive in the moment, it won't last forever (and in retrospect you will think it all went too quickly, in some ways).

Honestly, as much as I appreciated my parents' help in those first few days, I was secretly so relieved when they pulled out of the driveway because I needed to prove to myself that I could do it on my own.  I won't deny that there were times when I wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head, but I survived and emerged with a family that's better for it.  And you will too.

happy birthday! five years of baby bunching

Five years ago today, Linda sat in a hospital room awaiting the birth of her second child--the baby who would officially bring her into the inconceivable world of Baby Bunching. At five days overdue and in between two international moves (with a husband who would only be around for two more weeks), she faked labor and managed to convince a very loving nurse to induce her. Nine hours later and after an incredibly speedy delivery where they could barely get the doctor there in time, her Bunch was complete.

Ironically enough, a few hundred miles south BFF Cara was also in a hospital room, unexpectedly getting ready to deliver her second child who decided to show up 11 days early. Labor was fast, but Baby Boy's head was turned sideways, complicating and lengthening delivery a little.  In the end, he just missed sharing his birthday with Linda's daughter by an hour.

This weekend, the two of us celebrate five wonderful years of Baby Bunching.  We had no idea what we were getting into, but we wouldn't change it for the world.  

thank god for bad days

By Sharon M.

Baby Bunchers far and wide know the type of bad day that I just had. It was ONE OF THOSE days. The kind where you put the kids to bed a half hour early because you just can’t deal with one more temper tantrum from an unreasonable 2 year old. The kind that makes you ignore the dirty dishes and sit on the couch with a glass of wine. Even a normal day with my 4 bunched kids is enough to make my husband scream. But THIS day was like a train wreck, even for me! I couldn’t even begin to describe how everything that could go wrong went impossibly wrong. Thankfully, no children were seriously injured in the making of this bad day…but my 2 year old sure did try his best to test those injury limits! When everyone was tucked snugly and reluctantly in their beds, the only thing that hurt was my throat from having to raise my voice too much.

Anyone who has to deal with a newborn and a 2 year old at the same time quickly realizes the potential of these bad days. Believe it or not, I actually appreciate them. Even though it can feel like torture at the time, things do get better once I have had a chance to recover. More importantly, they make me happy for the good days. I learn from the bad and move on to a better tomorrow. Baby Bunching moms develop awesome skills for multi-tasking and adapting. We know that if Johnny spilled his cup of water three times today that we should only fill his cup with a tablespoon of water at a time tomorrow. We know that if our 2 year old raids the pantry everytime he sees us nursing the baby that the pantry door needs to be closed before we start nursing. We know that if our 3 year old only wets her pants whenever she sits in the new red chair that we need to encourage a potty break before she sits in it…or keep her from sitting in it at all! We know that if any of the kids throw up after drinking too much milk all at once that we will have to start limiting the milk.

We learn from our daily child-rearing problems and work out the tiniest details to make everything turn out better. So, tomorrow is bound to be easier because now I know how to avoid the train wreck of today. Tomorrow I will know better than to take all four children to the fancy ophthalmologist’s office down the street. Tomorrow I will know better than to give my 2 year old a blue M&M when he clearly only wants green ones. Tomorrow I will be able to cherish the sweet, quiet moments with my children at home instead of chasing after them in the grocery store. That is why I thank God for bad days!

Sharon M., mother of four (ages 5, 3, 2 and 4 months) www.TheHeartDiseaseGuide.com

(If you are interested in guest posting here on Baby Bunching, please give us a shout out. We're always looking for new contributors.)

toughing out the terrible two's

Number 3 in my crew has just entered the terrible two's - right on schedule at exactly one month shy of his second birthday.  What has surprised me the most about it is how I had forgotten how much it sucks.  Given that with my Bunch, I spent four straight years in the terrible two's because one was entering just as the older one was leaving, you think I would've remembered something like this.  But I guess that's one of the most magical things about parenthood - it dulls your ability to both think coherently and remember accurately. 

One nice thing about this spin around the block is that I have a little perspective.  Given that his older brothers are now elementary-aged and have perfected fit pitching, tantrum throwing, and (my personal favorite) back-talking, managing a little toddler hissy-fit seems like child's play.  It takes a lot to get me as worked up as the offending child usually is.

But one thing I do struggle to remember is how to appropriate discipline a toddler.  It's been 3 years since I last had a toddler and my discipline methods have grown up right along with my kids.  Unfortunately, I'm not sure that losing computer or outside play privileges or having to single-handedly pick up 2.5 million Legos is really gonna work that well with the wee-est of my wee ones.   And really, until recent weeks, Baby (as the entire family calls him) has been just that - sweet, innocent, and incapable of wrongdoing.  

But today I was finally forced to re-learn Toddler Behavior Management 101 on the fly when Baby pitched a GIANT, inconsolable temper tantrum over an absolute REFUSAL to share Dot Art markers with his brothers.  As I watched the situation escalate (which eventually included him pelting his brothers with the markers he was trying so hard to maintain possession of), I knew that I was going to have to lay down the law with my little guy.  After two straight years of having everyone in the family cater to his every whim, I'm starting to see less "Baby" and more "Big Baby" - as in the Toy Story 3 variety.

Dusting off my toddler discipline skills, I finally ended up taking the following approach:

 

• Spend several minutes cajoling with Baby to share, while he snatches all markers right back out of my hands and screeches.  
• Redirect. Redirect again.  And again. Repeat 15 times.
• Finally get it through my thick head that redirection won't work and turn to stern admonitions to share.  By this point, screeches have turned to tears, screaming, twisting out of seat, and throwing markers at brothers (staining my dining room rug in the process).
• Marker throwing I can sort of deal with, but rug staining has sent me over the edge.  Unbuckle Baby from booster seat, march him to stairs, and park him on the bottom stair for a time out.  Briefly explain to him why he is in time out and leave him on the step, sobbing.
• Attempt to clean rug.  Baby appears, having left the step. March him back to step.
• Repeat 3 times, with his screeching and screaming getting louder each time.
• Finally, pick up thrashing, sweaty, screaming toddler and deposit him in crib.  Tell him he must take 5 minutes to calm down and I will be back for him.
• I take 8 minutes to calm down and go back for him.
• Lift him out of crib, where he is now silenced, but hiccuping uncontrollably.
• Dry his tears, rub his back, give him a hug, and tell him we're going to take another try at sharing.  Bigs have long lost interest in markers and disappeared, so grab markers and shove them in a drawer when he isn't looking.
• Buckle him back in the seat and hand him some crayons, upon which he immediately forgets about the markers and begins laughing and babbling about bananas and babies.

Toddlers - gotta love 'em.  I know someday when he's back-talking, I'll miss the screeching.

 

baby bunching bff

"Help! Help! My best friend's dying!", my oldest son sobbed hysterically as he came running (naked and sopping wet) into the room.  Flying back into the bathroom and wondering how my almost-five-year-old could've managed to arrive at death's door since in the 2.5 seconds since I had left the room, I found him sitting up in the bathtub right where I left him.  Just fine and dandy, and surprised as all get out to see his older brother freaking out all over the place.

It turned out that in the few seconds that it took me to lift the Baby out of the tub where all 3 were playing, wrap him in a towel, and carry him from the master bath to the master bedroom, Middle had decided to lick the bar of soap.  And no amount of reassurance could convince Big that his brother was not going to die from it.

Once I had assessed the situation and my heart stopped beating four million miles a minute, I was touched to realize that Big had referred to his brother as "my best friend".  For his part, Middle seemed more upset by the fact that he had scared his brother so badly than by the fact that he was potentially facing death from soap poisoning.  Despite the arguing, head butting, punching, kicking, slamming, stealing, hitting and yelling, at the tender ages of 5 and 6, my boys are truly each other's best friends.

Did it suck for two years of my life to have them so close together?  Yeah.

But was it worth it?  Most definitely.

Today, at least.

growing love

When my kids were born, I loved them for who they were. I loved them for all the wonderful things they did (that every other baby did, too) and for all the not so wonderful things (that every baby also does.)

I have to admit that it hasn't been until recently that I've had time to stop and really take a look at my children. We go through the day, sadly, so many times on autopilot. I know what each of my kids needs at any given time and have learned to anticipate before they even request it. I figure this is parenthood.

But it's only been now that I really have had my eyes opened to their individual (and amazing) personalities on more than a superficial level. Boy likes puzzles and chess, girl likes drawing and animals. Bunch babies usually get, well, bunched. I put them into the same activities and scoot them off together and sometimes forget they are not the same. They are not twins. They are different ages with different interests and needs. As they grow and can explain their love of one thing and dislike of another, I, too, grow as a parent.

As my love for them grows, so does my fear. More now than ever, I'm afraid of sending them off to school or going to a friend's house. I feel vulnerable as I have gotten to know them as little people. I can make mistakes with them. I could mess this up. I want to keep them safe. I want to help them grow, learn, love and be the best they can be. Am I the only one who feels this way?

I looked over at my baby girl this afternoon (who is now almost 5). She smiled back at me with her amazing smile and said, "Mommy, this is the best day ever. I love you." I looked at her. Really, really looked at her. Wondering who she resembled at that moment. Pondering what she might be someday. Perhaps living out this moment right now.

I looked back at her and smiled and said, "I love you, too, baby."

the triumphant return to 'popping in'

While the first two years of Baby Bunching are the most difficult and it DOES get easier, my husband and I have found that in some ways we are emotionally scarred forever by the experience.  For me, one of those scars is my reluctance to run "quick" errands with my children.

Some of my standout memories from my early Bunching days is what a pain in the ass it was to go anywhere.  Big was just 17 months old and while he was walking, he was walking neither well, fast, nor in the direction I wanted him to.  This meant that every time I went somewhere, I would make a minimum of 5 trips to the car - one to carry him, one to carry his brother in the infant seat, one to haul our wheels/stroller of choice for that day to the trunk, and one to dump our diaper bag with the bare necessities (still roughly the size of a pack one would carry to climb Mt. Everest).  Then I would make a final trip with the luxuries such as my purse and coffee, taking a deep breath and 60 seconds to compose myself before walking out of my silent home and entering the chaos that was the car.

Once we arrived at our destination, I would repeat the routine in reverse. Between the rigmarole of getting everyone in and out and the craziness that typically transpired once we were actually in the store, I was conditioned to avoid quick errands with my children at any costs.  As they got older, it got easier in some ways (some people could walk) but harder in others (their walking path of choice frequently led directly to the street/parking lot).  Having two kids in car seats gave me a new appreciation for how convenient the easily tote-able infant bucket seat was.  It was such a hassle to get everyone settled that if we were gonna go in somewhere, we were staying awhile.

I still have an aversion to quick errands.  Even though the Bigs (and even the Caboose) now walk, I still envision tangled car seat straps and tears, dawdling on the way to the door of the store, and the occasional mild heart attack generated by a parking lot sprinter.  It's not even worth it to me to make that quick run in to the store to get that bottle of wine and pint of ice cream I so desperately need.

Earlier today, my hand was forced. Responsible for co-hosting a baby shower and needing to pick up the dessert without a spare moment without kids before the shower, I dragged the two Littles to the bakery to "run in" and pick it up.  To my surprise, it wasn't that bad.  The Bigs are both in boosters and can buckle themselves, which is HUGE.  They can open and close the sliding door themselves and are even willing to help me carry stuff sometimes.  For the most part, they stick close to me instead of running like heathens through the parking lot.  The Caboose is much more compliant that they were at his age, so he is mostly content just to walk holding my hand and be buckled back into the seat when we're done.  It did help that I was short one kid, but still - I realized that the past several quick errands haven't been that bad either.

Could it be that after 6 years, I've made my triumphant return to being able to dash into the store for a gallon of milk to go with my wine?

baby bunching benefit: if you wait long enough, they will teach themselves

I've posted before that I often wonder if I've done my kids a disservice by having a flock of them right in a row (3 in 4 1/2 years). It just seems that there is NEVER enough of me to go around. The weird thing is that yes, while it was hard Bunching the first two, I felt capable of meeting needs even if I was a little frazzled at times.  But as I added a third child and the needs of the other two have grown more complex as they age (it's not just about eat/sleep/poop anymore!), I feel like I'm shortchanging one of the three of them every time I turn around.

A great example is Middle, who has been begging to have the training wheels taken off his bike for weeks.  When his older brother was 4 1/2, we spent several afternoons on the driveway, coaching and cheering him on with the entire family.  Now that Middle is 4 1/2, his older brother Big (a future X gamer) is hell on wheels and zips up and down the driveway cutting off cyclists, scooterists, and innocent pedestrians alike.  It is a miracle he hasn't knocked a tooth out, broken an arm, or split a head open - his own or someone else's.  Younger brother the Caboose is in the nightmare toddler stage where he wants to sprint for either the street or the nearest high cliff at any chance he gets with no regard for safety. As you can imagine, we have a hard time getting motivated for the prospect of 19 false starts up and down the driveway and the resulting tears that would surely follow from two-wheeling lessons for Middle.

Fortunately for him, he's nothing if not persistent and he finally wore down persuaded his Dad, who removed the training wheels on Sunday. Bracing ourselves for lots of falls and tears, we let him rip.  And then stood there with our jaws open as he tore down the driveway on two wheels on the first try! Damned if the kid wasn't ready to do it on his own!

And this isn't the only time this has happened.  Big and I had endless potty training fights until Middle came along and I dropped it because I was too busy.  One day when he was about 3 1/2, he walked into the bathroom and peed in the toilet and never had an accident in his pants.  Similarly, I was so busy corralling 3 kids at the dinner table that it never occurred to me to hand the Caboose a spoon to feed himself.  Until he grabbed a fork off my plate one day right around his first birthday and started eating with it like he'd been using it his whole life.

Now that I've written this, I plan to bookmark it so that I can revisit it anytime I feel guilt creeping in that I'm not constantly coaching one of my kids in some area of skill development. Sometimes, a little self-sufficiency and genuine readiness can carry a kid a lot further than helicopter parenting can.

potty training: a retrospective

By Natasha Standen, Mutterings and Musings

It's not like I'm rid of it forever (we're expecting baby #3 in August), but potty training seems like a dim and distant memory...of a time filled with anxiety and stress; a time of struggle. I think that for Baby Bunchers, getting the elder child to pee in the potty or on the toilet needs its own rule book!

I did make a rod for my own back with child #1, Sophie. I decided she needed to start pre-school at the age of 2 and a half & at the time, the rules required that she be 'dry'. Looking back (and I know mums that have their kids trained early on and the whole 'elimination communication' thing), Soph simply wasn't ready. But I waded in anyway, at 22 months. Armed with reward chart and treats. With a mop and bucket. With carpet shampoo. (And armed is a specific choice of word - it literally WAS a battle.)

And actually, Sophie was dry quite quickly. But the anxiety of never knowing when - or where! - I was going to find her creating puddles was like something I'd never experienced. It took me back to the newborn days, when I had no understanding of what I was meant to be doing, and just stressed about it. Having read somewhere that pull-ups sent mixed signals, I insisted she stayed in knickers despite our disasters. And we got there over a period of a few days - despite my attention being 'diverted' by child #2, Imogen, who was by now at 9 months old very mobile, and very accomplished at wandering into piles of wee! But I spent a lot of time out and about with both of them, and rarely found a cubicle large enough (or near enough!) for me to deal with this easily by myself.

This wasn't the end of it, of course. Sophie might be dry, but it was almost 3 months before she was able to poop regularly on the potty. And having, then as now, a very fruity diet, she used to soil herself liberally 3 times a day - mainly in her pants. I became an expert in cleaning her off with a baby in tow. (And sometimes in tears.)

The good news was - by the time it came to potty train child #2, I had learned lessons & was ready to wait until Imogen was at least 3 to tackle the issue. In fact, she herself 'told' me she was ready by persisting in taking her bottoms down and taking her nappy off wherever she happened to be! (She had previously 'told' us she was ready for a bed by climbing out of her high-sided cot.) And I used pull-ups this time, particularly if we were going out, which did not set us back one bit. Above all, I knew we would get there in the end and there was no need to stress about it.

And that's the only advice I can give, really. Yes, it's great if you can find someone to look after the baby while you focus on potty training the toddler. Washable car seat covers (and a homemade waterproof cushion) come in very handy. Having a portable potty & child toilet seat may be a must. But the main thing is - don't panic! This too shall pass.

This post has been reprinted with permission by Natasha.

Natasha Standen is a 34-year old stay-at-home mom & church volunteer. She lives in Nottinghamshire, UK. Mother to 5 year old and nearly 4 year old girls, 19 months apart.

remembering my mamaversary

Today is the sixth anniversary of the very first time I went into labor and didn't know it (otherwise known as my oldest son's birthday). A good friend wished me a "Happy Mamaversary" this morning, which I loved.

On each of my children's birthdays, I can't help but spend the day periodically reflecting back on what I was doing at this time on this day "x" years ago.  I've also found that the news of a close friend going into labor sends me down this memory lane as well.  It must be some sort of sickness I've inherited because my mom STILL does it, and I am 30-odd years old.  Every year when she calls to wish me happy birthday, the phone conversation always begins with, "X years ago at this time, I was....".  Unfortunately, I was born in a foreign country and her story always involves a lot of shouting in a language she didn't understand, dust bunnies under the hospital bed,lack of appropriate pain medication, and a post-birth infection that prevented her from nursing.  But hey, it's nice to hear how you came into the world and what warm fuzzies it brings your mom year after year after year.

My own Mamaversary story is far less dramatic, featuring only a minor snafu brought on by a rare Atlanta snowstorm (read: 5 flakes of snow) that shut down my OB's office.  Once I actually realized I was in labor and got settled into the hospital, it was all rainbows and roses and actually my most seamless labor of the three.  As a first time mom, I was surprised by how quick (8 hours - all in a day's work) and painless (at least until the epidural wore off and I could barely walk for three weeks) it all was.  I distinctly remember looking at my son about 6 hours after he was born and thinking, "I could do this again."  Which is how I ended up in that same hospital bed just 17 months later. 

When I was pregnant, I also distinctly remember feeling that I knew my life was about to change so profoundly, but knowing that I wouldn't understand how MUCH it would change until it actually happened.  And how true. At 4:45 pm on February 26th, with the arrival of a 7 lb 9 oz, 20 3/4 inch gift from God, I became a whole new person.  Aside from unwittingly bidding goodbye to the last worry-free moment of my life at 4:44 pm, I became capable of loving another human being on a dimension I previously didn't even know was possible.

It was such a positive experience that it would take two more babies before I could drive past the hospital without wishing I was checking in at that moment to deliver another sweet bundle of joy.  Fast forward 6 years and 3 children and the hospital-induced ovary aching has subsided.  But I still enjoy the annual mental replays of three of the most important days of my life.  So this year I'll be raising a glass of champagne to go with my cake.  Happy Birthday to Cade and Happy Mamaversary to me!