For Mother's Day, last week, I was remembering my mother and how we would ask her things like: "what was my first word", or "when did I start crawling", and so on - and with our daughter's every milestone, I'm realizing that I don't exactly remember my son's milestones. This is partly because the "milestones" aren't always clear -- when rolling over was accidental or on purpose, or whether a scoot was a crawl, whether baba was accidental or him/her actually calling their father. Anyhow, it has spurred me continue blogging as is ... maybe it will evolve yet ... but I surely don't want to let these moments with our children to slip away.
Tomris was born June 21st, the first day of summer. I did actually record this birth experience a couple of months after her birth... so I will post it following this one.
We have talked about having a third child - but it's a tough decision as we are exhausted with the two of them. Our days, and nights, are FULL. Forget sleep training and independence and disciplining and anything I ever read our thought about rearing children.
Mine and Tolga's core love and enjoyment of children hasn't changed - maybe its grown, and maybe that's why I have trouble following through on structures I thought I would have in place. I thought I wouldn't let any kids in the bed, or our room for that matter. But we do. Almost every night. From the moment Teoman learned to stand up in his crib and call "Baba" or "Anne" or "Mamma" - Tolga and I run into his room pick him up - and bring him to our bed. We used to sit in the big armchair with him, until he slept again - but with Tomris, we were too tired to do any of that - so he comes straight to our bed. And we kiss him and let him hold and twist our rings on our fingers (that has become his "transitional object", unfortunately). If Tomris wakes, I nurse her back to sleep. At some point, maybe I should have - or should - stop this habit but neither Tolga nor I can resist their cries. We pick them up every time, cuddle and comfort them, because they are our children and we are their proud parents.
We go out, and we usually by them a treat or a small toy - we are spoiling them, and we love spoiling them. We take them to the malls or parks or simple walks and they are rockstars with their blue eyes, blondish hair, and social personalities. It is hard and exhausting and all consuming and really really great. I was ready for this phase in my life. I have no desire to go out at night with friends, I hate leaving the kids in for short bits.
The only time I really allow myself to let go of them is at work - its a set schedule, I've accepted it, and I know they are in good hands. Mentally and socially I think its good for me too - I enjoy teaching, I enjoy my colleagues, and I am on a shortened schedule so I can get home for my "milk permission" - a government sanctioned work leave for the mother's in the baby's first year. I can technically leave work an hour-and-a-half early. It's different everyday though - sometimes I come late, sometimes I leave early, sometimes both. I feel somewhat disconnected from my colleagues because of my special permissions I am missing out on a lot of work, collaborating, and extra duties - but it's also a big relief because my days aren't so long and I don't stress too much about leaving the kids.
I said from the beginning that the In-Laws shouldn't be living in Kusadasi for the winter - our summer home had no heating and it wasn't good for their health. I pushed for my brother-in-law to come as well because he was having trouble finding work and the opportunities in Ankara would much greater. Tolga encouraged them to come for his peace of mind when he traveled. That annoyed my independent self but I didn't argue because ultimately I knew he was right. I keep saying, and telling myself that family should live together - so my mother, father and brother in-law our in our home because community is how we should live. We help each other out - whether it's financially or emotionally or physically. And, I'm so glad I'm not the only influence on our children's lives.
Of course it's hard because the grandparents don't follow rules, and the uncle is too soft hearted -- and some days it feels like I'm managing five children because taking care of my children ends up being linked to everything my family does - meals, naps, television, habits... They are my family that some days I resent, feeling as if I'm the only one who thinks to buy bread, or eggs, or whatever we need. Or the only one who insists on eating vegetables, naps, a bedtime, and censoring the TV. And this is after a long day at work, a long day at home, and sometimes really long nights too. But, my heart was so arrogant to ever think we were doing my in-laws a favor having us all live together. Foolish me.
Especially this year, I've got a good look at just how proud I am. No, proud isn't a strong enough of a word - disgustingly superior my heart stance has been. With the birth of Tomris, my back injury, shoulder injury, and Tolga's increasing travel schedule . . . I don't know what I'd do without them. With every instance, I was confronted with my need for help versus my stubbornness and pride. Most times I think I just felt frustrated that I needed help, rather than accepting it. There were many nights when Tomris was first born and I was upstairs in my room in Kusadasi - hot, humid, nursing, and two crying children that I couldn't comfort at the same time. I was even angry that I needed help. I didn't want anybody's help. I wanted to do this on my own. I don't need anybody. They needed me, not I them. And then I hurt my back and I couldn't get out of a chair without help. Another day I fell down the stairs at work and smacked my head, and then dislocating my shoulder...again. On top of this, with Tolga coming and going - many times I'm left with only the in-laws. But, the truth is - I'm not sure I could do it without them. My mother-in-law is a picture of selflessness. She loves her grandchildren and puts asides all her ailments to be sure I have the help I need. Taking the kids from my arms when I shouldn't be picking them up, putting dinner on the table. I think its her I find myself getting the most stressed about. When she's depressed, her physical ailments start popping up - her heart, her back, her head, her knee. But when she's needed - she complains about nothing - and I'm not sure which is more worrisome.
Tolga is endlessly supportive of everybody. I want his brother and father to do more, to be more - I have a really hard time accepting things as they are. And I've said it all along too - I'm well aware of the fact that the only person that needs changing here was me. I suppose I am changing, and that I am thankful for.
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