New York City moms of multiples are not a rare sight. We are a brave, and sometimes comical, but common vision here. In fact, I think it’s weird when people don’t have twins. Double strollers rule the sidewalks of the city–carrying twins or siblings. My story is not unique–but my stroller is of the “triple” variety. I am a New York City stay-at-home mom of a preschooler and two-year-old twins. I am a wife of a super cool guy who sometimes just doesn’t get it but often does–and he understands my obsession with shoes. I love wine but I dislike people who pretend to be experts on wine. Mothering three toddlers is the hardest job I’ve ever had, and most days I am not very good at it; the girls on Teen Mom would criticize my parenting techniques. Years ago, I spent a fortune on an M.F.A. in creative writing and thus believed I’d be famous by now. Because that’s how poets roll.
This social media driven, online conversation obsessed world that we live in stresses me out. Truly, I would be happier without Facebook and Twitter–but I am on both Facebook and Twitter. Disclaimer: I am still learning how blogs work so I apologize for any lack of clever use of the available technology.
Until six weeks ago, we were a family of five living in a one-bedroom New York City apartment. I loved that apartment; I fought the good fight to move back to Manhattan from a nice suburb outside the city and live in our small, perfect, cozy home. New York City is like an old boyfriend I can’t get over; I never stopped believing we’d end up together! Sigh.
After almost a year in the wonderful and tight one bedroom–and after our youngest two starting walking and destroying–we dedicated much thought, worry, arguing and drinking to the decision to push our budget (significantly) and move to a two-bedroom apartment in the neighborhood. Having moved almost every two years my entire adulthood, I am an expert at taking lots of stuff from one place to another place in little time. I am also obsessive-compulsive; this helps in packing- and unpacking-related activities. Our new apartment was set up before the mover’s truck pulled away. The first two weeks in our new apartment were great. What a luxury to have a bedroom again! We really had our dream apartment in my dream city. Then the bedbugs came. The buggers ruined everything.
This is not how I intended to start my blog: husband working late, Criminal Minds blasting on the television, surrounded by garbage bags full of our belongings, two of three children screaming, a large glass of wine in front of me and a laptop with about five minutes of battery life. I didn’t plan on starting a blog on a desperate note. I was waiting for a moment of divine–yet deserved–inspiration to take hold; I would suddenly grasp the most universal, profound, earth shattering truths about being a parent and then I would be able–I’d be driven to!–start the best freaking blog about mommyhood ever. My sisters in motherhood would be grateful. This explains the long lag time between my idea to start a blog and my hitting “publish.” Inspiration didn’t happen quite that way. If I weren’t sleeping (rarely) or showering (less rarely thank God), I found it very difficult to even have a thought over the past three years. My focus is inferior to my two year olds’ (seriously. I lose track of Curious George plots). The magic moment never happened and the hope has all but evaporated. And tonight I am writing to keep from walking out the door. I do not exaggerate.