welcome to the world

It's a boy! He's 3 weeks old already but I just haven't been able to tear myself away from him and update my blog.
What a glorious experience so far. The birth was undeniably painful, but I highly, highly recommend natural birth and am so grateful that my obstetrician gave me the opportunity after already having had a c-section. Twelve hours of agony and then absolute bliss as we heard his first cry. Words cannot describe the emotions felt and shared between my husband and I and little Adam as he was placed on my chest.
He latched immediately and hasn't looked back. Ok, I have to say it and get this off my chest: one baby is a walk in the park!! No wonder everyone around me looked like they had a handle on it while I juggled and managed my twins in desperate exhaustion. I can manage this just like everyone else. I actually feel quite competent and so far have had no panic attacks. Yes, in all fairness it is my third, or second to be more accurate and having two at once to start with must have given me some experience. But what a pleasure being able to see to his needs and not have someone else screaming for their urgent needs to be seen to at the same time.
The girls have been amazing, bar a few "come wipe my bum!" while I am feeding. For some reason this is something they refuse to let go of even though I have measured that their hands can reach that far back and their motor skills are more than adequate to preform the wipe motion.
All in all I am a happy mother of three and so far am feeling hugely empowered by my added responsibilities.

fire control

My life on Ouland Farm, which is situated on the hills of one of the world's most sought after beach destinations, is shamefully good. I have a wonderful and hard working, albeit quite eccentric, husband, who doesn't require that I go out and work; two healthy children; two sets of grandparents living in close proximity; a beautiful and willing thoroughbred mare; a pony for the girls; my own farm to ride on; food growing in the garden; men to help, periodically, in the garden, a 150 year old charming, drafty and slightly falling down, farmhouse; a paid-off car and a crowd of amazing close friends.



Almost daily I look around and wonder at how I got to this point in my life. Sometimes I'm a little afraid to think too deeply about it incase I jinx my good fortune with the wrong thinking process. I rather stick to a quick and deeply felt "thank you" to the angels before moving swiftly onto the tasks that allow us to live such a life.  

But even though I am so blessed, I am ashamed to admit that I still go through periods of feeling frustrated and uninspired. I know these emotions are a common glitch in the human psyche - when the going gets good the ego looks for something to attach itself to, to sabotage and create drama in one's life as if our fundamental make-up is that of the undeserving, which it is not.

So I try to remain vigilant and aware of my self-defeating thoughts. I cling to the things that remind me how good it really is to be alive until Life and her flaws pull me into a clutch of despair and what looked like a bed of roses starts to look like a thicket of thorns.
At the end of the day, no matter what you have physically created in your life, every one of us is fighting a battle of some sorts, it is only the degree of intensity that varies from moment to moment.
Although my physical life is near perfect, my battles are ever present. Marriage and motherhood is a constant place of challenge. Sometimes I am serene and giving, a selfless, patient mother, a goddess in the kitchen - and bedroom. Other times I am possessed by demons, breathing fire and brimstone, aching to be set free from this domestic drudgery. To get on my horse and ride as a far from expectation, duty, chores and explanations as possible. In my mind's eye I see a desert of freedom stretching out before me and I am alone, carefree and full of energy.
But eventually I check myself, reign in the horse and count the blessings. I remind myself how I wouldn't want it any other way and slowly the fierceness of my will to escape subsides. I go back to being mild and well mannered, doing what is required of me. With a smile. On my dial.

going pro

A few days ago, in a rare moment of peace, I was browsing over some recipes in a magazine when I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to bake bread for the soup I was making for supper. I leapt up - the girls were due home from playschool in 15 minutes and I didn't feel like a marathon kiddie baking project - and as swiftly as possible I switched on the oven to pre-heat, threw the ingredients together and had two loaf tins in the oven in under ten minutes. I then plonked back onto the couch to finish reading my mag.
Suddenly I realised what I had just done: since when did I throw together homemade bread in ten minutes?
In that moment I realised I have finally arrived, whole heartedly, into the role of mother and homemaker. This thought both depresses and impresses me. On one hand I feel, whoa, hold on here, who is this person rapidly on the road to practical hair cuts, beige clothing and Saturday mornings in the supermarket - when the waves are cooking! And on the other hand I thought, cool, you're getting good at the domestic thing. The easier it is, the quicker it is and and the more time there is for fun.
The truth is it's taken me nearly five years to feel that I have got a handle on this maternal occupation. In the first years of having my babies I felt like I was in a dress rehearsal for the role of mom while I watched other mothers get on with what needed to be done with seemingly little effort.
But slowly along the way I must have gained the skills necessary for the undertaking of motherhood. I no longer find planning and cooking supper a daunting excercise that requires a bottle of rescue remedy to cope with. Getting the girls ready for playschool in the morning, although tedious, is a walk in the park - I have even started to lie in bed until the last possible moment. Note: don't try this with two 4-year olds until you have stuck to the morning routine for at least 12 months, so that, like little trained monkeys, they do what is required every morning on cue - no arguments!
I think the kind of mother you are depends largely on the kind of mother you had. Mine was not the "tea party" kind of mom whatsoever. She was a hippie straight out of the sixties and brought us up on a vegetarian diet, Joni Mitchell and karmic threats. She had one baking recipe, banana loaf, that saved her at every school cake sale and as soon as we were old enough she packed us off to boarding school. I say this with no resentment but more with feelings of compassion, as I can now understand her justifications in doing this. I too have been tempted to enroll mine into a distant institution.
So after four different boarding schools and a decade in the non-conformed film industry it seems I may have missed a traditional training in domestics from my mother. This has left me having to learn through common sense, my friends and feeling a need deep within to provide what is good, whole and stable for my family. So being able to bake bread - let alone in ten minutes - and enjoy it, is a huge accomplishment for me as a mother.
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peace at last

Guilt is an emotion mandatory to the occupation of motherhood.
I have generally leaned towards feelings of guilt quite a lot in my life - probably because I can be selfish at times - but its had nothing on this new unrelenting guilt that comes with being a mother. This guilt seems to have little to do with being selfish and more to do with getting it right.
I think being a mom to twins has doubled the guilt factor. Since they were born I have tried to share and divide my attention and affection between them equally, but in reality it's an impossibility - someone always has to wait their turn and being the same age there is little in the line of reasoning with one or the other.
"There is only one mommy and two little girls." I frequently repeat this as a mantra to my girls - it helps to appease my guilt when I'm impatient towards them. Charlotte seems to undersand this because she once told me she's only having one child and when I questioned her, she said: "Because I only have two hands." Anna who generally seems not to understand what all the fuss in life is about, claims she will have six children - good luck to her!
So from day one of my maternal occupation I have been battling with guilt: have I given enough attention to both of them, why didn't I try listen better to Charlotte's story even though Anna also had to tell me hers at the same time; I could have been nicer about trying to push Anna on the swing and saving Charlotte from crashing off the monkey bars at the same time; why am I not more understanding in the car when they are both talking to me at the same time all the way home from playschool.
I have also felt guilty and doubtful about decisions I have made for them in the past like why didn't I breastfeed longer; I should have kept them home longer before sending them to a creche, I should not have let them ride their pony under a low branch and end up in a dusty heap on the ground.
So when I made the decision to change them to a Waldorf kindergarten after Anna was clearly battling in the busy playground where she was, I was sure that somewhere along the line I would have feelings of guilt and doubt.  In fact I have been waiting for it for almost a month and still nothing...
My children are incredibly happy, adjusted and appear to be thriving. I am elated that I actually, for once, got it simultaneously right! I was sure Charlotte, who loathes change, was going to punish me to no end, but she happily goes off to school excited about the days activities. And Anna, who is the reason we changed, kisses me and runs off to play instead of hysterically clinging to me like a chimp, so that I would have to force her into the hands of the teacher and run to the car with her yells ringing in my ears. Now she can't wait to get there and although she still battles in social situations, which we are hoping a little occupational therapy will sort out, she is happy. And my heart sings because I got it right!
On top of their happiness at school they seem to have done a complete turn around at home. I am not sure if it's been turning four or their new Rudolph Steiner environment, but they play together like best friends and never seem to run out of ideas for new imaginary games.

So for this moment I breathe a guiltless and content sigh while experiencing, what feels like the first time, a normal, peaceful existence with my twins.