Mentions: bexhasbabies

Once a parent becomes a parent, vacations are no longer vacations. So you have to decide. Is this really something you want to take on.

You go back and forth with your partner on the merits of this idea being a good or terrible one. 

Then you decide. 

The choice has been made. 

You hold your breath. 

Press the “purchase tickets” button. 

And immediately question the decision. 

But the deed is done. You now have a few months to manage the anxiety of how the fuck to travel with a set of one-year-old twins and a toddler. 

Then the week before, it sets in. The logistics are overwhelming. How many babies? Strollers? Car seats? Who is watching the dog? The cat? High chairs? What do we do with our car? How many bags? Toys? What do you need for the plane? How do you get to the plane? What do you do once you’re on the plane? Off the plane? Cribs for everyone? What books do you pack? 

Ha! 

Books?

None for me. As we said, a vacation is no longer a vacation. 

But we made the commitment to visit family in the south. The deal was sealed. So off we go. 

What we know now is the right number of adults (for traveling with three under three) is four.

Four high-functioning adults makes it just manageable. 

For anyone who has done it with fewer, you are my heroes. 

The thing you forget, or are less aware of, in the day-to-day grind is that (for many of us) other people are entertaining our children all day. Sure, we see them in the morning. Get them dressed and ready for the day. Pick them up at the end. And manage the nighttime routine. But in between, someone else is reading, feeding, playing with them. 

And to those people… I salute you. 

We had one full week in Florida in a two-room Airbnb with virtually no plans. This could have gone one of two ways. 

The twins are down to one nap daily. And the almost three-year-old is fully refusing any nap while in vacation mode. 

This makes for a very, very long seven days. 

All that said, the trip could not have been more perfect. Everyone was (basically) on their best behavior. Everyone (basically) slept at night. And, in fact an extra hour plus in the morning. The Rosler kids apparently love vacation. There was pool. There was beach. There was family. And friends. But Nathan and I were ON every. single. second. of. every. single. day. 

Well, almost. 

There were two opportunities for “me” time. There were two days of glorious moments that were all mine. And I’ll be hard-pressed to forget them anytime soon. 

One day we went to the beach. A trip to the beach is not what it once was, certainly. After lugging the baby chairs. And the umbrella. And the towels. And the toys. And the shovels. And the buckets. And the beach chairs. And slathering up babies with SPF. And hats. And anti-UV bathing suits. And water bottles. Snacks. And diapers. And swim diapers and….yeah. And so-much-crap. Now what? Ok. We’re settled. Towels laid out. Babies on them. Shoes kicked off. What now? Go for a walk?Build a sand castle? Oh, it’s high tide? Right now? Cool. Move everything back five feet. Good? Set? Now? Nope. Not far enough. Pick it all up and do it again. Ok. Time to relax? One sippy cup ends up on the sand. One baby just took a fistful to the mouth. Excellent start. 

Finally everyone is good. I check my surroundings. All babies accounted for. I do not make a peep, take a breath. I slowly walk towards the water. My childhood. My respite. My calm. The beach should be my home. It’s where I am in my element. I was pulled towards my beacon and did not look back. My toes touched the perfectly crystal blue, aqua waves and then I dove in fully. I flipped over and floated. I was buoyant. And free. Body light as a feather. Floating in a little slice of heaven on earth. My ears right beneath the idyllic ocean water’s surface. Every time a wave swept through, the sound of sand and shells rolling with them sung in my ears. If shimmering made a sound, this would have been it. This moment was perfection. I have not had a moment like this, likely since our honeymoon four years ago. And yes, it was a moment. I was beckoned back not long after I took in the sky, and the clouds, and the salt water. I followed the waves back to shore. They carried me, effortlessly. I took a deep breath and returned to my other element: my beautiful family, awaiting me on the other side. But that in-between moment brought me life. Sometimes it really is just the little things. 

The next day (in between visitors, and feedings, and cleaning, and bathing, and shopping, and playing) I was granted close to an hour of alone time, which may as well have been an eternity. The babies napped. H took a car ride with N and I had the pool to myself. I floated. I took in the fresh air. The sun. The Florida heat. And for that hour nothing mattered. There were no worries. No anxiety. No tantrums. No bills. No questions. I took a break from it all and let the water carry me. 

This came to an end. 

As all things must. 

But those moments will stay with me for a long time. They rejuvenated me. Restored me. I love my family. And my new career. And the hustle and bustle of it all. But the calm. And the quiet. And the weather. And the “vacation.” And the family time. And the down time. And the break from reality. It was reinvigorating.

Restorative. 

Taking the time is so important. Most of us likely don’t do it enough. But this little vacation home in Florida, off the beaten path, was so perfect. We are so busy running, usually, from this place and that. We don’t take the time to appreciate the in-between. I’m so grateful I was given this opportunity. It made me realize I need to focus more on what happens in-between: the things that happen in the midst of us handling life. 

It also made me realize how insanely amazing it is to have a washer and dryer in your home. 

I single-handedly destroyed the environment last week. 

Sorry, Earth. 

Please, this one time. 

Forgive me. 

If you’re interested in reading more about my crazy life – please follow me @bexhasbabies or to learn about how I support women through their motherhood journey, @itsconceivablebyrebekahrosler.

http://www.its-conceivable.com

♥️💫

I felt like I was drowning.

At one point last night—possibly for the first time ever—I took a deep breath and thought:

I am drowning.

I just took something *else* on, without thinking it through, because I thought it could help my family. As soon as I did, I felt a weight on my chest. A heavy, heavy weight.

My to-do list already spans 7 1/2 columns, and every day, I just move the long list from one day to the next in my calendar, though it feels like hundreds of items get crossed off daily. There are just are not enough moments in a day to do it all (though somehow, someway we are expected to.)

There are second notice bills that I haven’t paid, last month’s daycare tuition I’ve not fully been able to take care of, and piles and piles of laundry stacked up from two weeks ago.

The intention is there.

The time and money are not.

I woke up today feeling less overwhelmed but acutely aware of all the things that still needed to happen. And I don’t know about your brain, but when mine is left to its own devices… For. Get. It.

After wrangling three fussy kids to drop-off, my appointment with my doula client would start the day before the day even began. I still had posts to edit and monitor in ten different Facebook groups, and many messages to return. I needed to print something timely, but inevitably I was out of ink. And when I did print it, it came out crooked. I had boxes to slap shipping labels on. Groceries to order. An Air BnB to finalize.  At some point I’d need to do research on new ADHD meds to see which ones my new shitty insurance will cover. I need to go back on meds so I can focus and stay organized… shit, I almost forgot… my appointment with the therapist is tomorrow (ironic but true.)

But first I have to stop breastfeeding, so I can go on said meds. But how do you finally, truly, forever, actually stop? At least there’s reliable ole cow’s milk, right?  

Nope. Not anymore. Apparently our next generation of girls will have their periods at age 7, because hormones, or homogenized, or pasteurized or ultra-pasteurized—or this article, or that study says—or who the fuck knows.

GAHHHHHH

And I have books to read, and meetings to be on, trainings to finish, and schedule, and calls to make, and calls to return, and things to pick up, and documents to send, and things to drop off. Clothes to buy, and to sell, and to donate, and appointments to make, and cancel, and to remember—and oh shit I forgot the kids’ cheese.

Again.

And none of this even touches on my new business that I’m trying to build from the ground up, with (currently) no investors, and no income. A partnership meeting for this business will be my actual first meeting of the work day, after all of the above.

But oh my god.

Just breathe.

I’m sure we’ve all felt like this (so fucking scattered) at one point or another.

And damn, it’s scary. When you’re a family of five, living in New York City, sending three kids to daycare, living on one salary—a not-for-profit salary, at that— and feeding not only said family of five humans, but also a cat with stage three kidney disease who definitely eats better than the rest of us, and a dog.

A crazy, crazy dog.

These last few days happened to be very productive and fruitful, which felt good, but again, the list is just so, so long. I decided a top priority for today would be preparing dinner for my kids before they returned home, since this literally never ever happens. I had grand plans; until I opened the refrigerator. Clearly the grocery shopping hadn’t happened. They ended up with chicken nuggets, sweet potato fries, and spinach bites—all from the freezer.

But alas, I’m calling it a win.

Now it’s go time: end of day round-up/pick-up.

I get downstairs with the dog, and it’s raining. And this dog. does. not. like. rain. But obviously I was already late. So off we go.

I didn’t have an umbrella.

Or a stroller, for that matter.  

Due to an earlier “incident” at daycare—involving our doublewide stroller, leading to some f-bombs, and two back-to-back blow-up fights with the admin staff—I had determined: Today there would be no stroller.

Bad choice.

Only I would lose in this scenario.

I get to school, and I am very, very wet. I presume the rain will stop, or at least let up, before I leave with everyone, so at least the kids won’t get soaked.

Yeah, right.

By now, of course, it’s pouring.  I have one baby strapped on my back, the other baby on the front, and the toddler was thrown in a rickety, 3X-hand-me-down, broken tricycle with a push handle that doesn’t turn. I grab my soaking wet and VERY unhappy dog, and we head home.

No stroller.  

No snacks.

No umbrella.  

Both babies are crying, and hungry, and so tired because said admin staff stopped me to talk about “the stroller incident.”

And it was late.

As I crossed the street, I passed a security guard.

Our eyes met.

He was smiling at me with kind eyes. And I smiled back. As I was about to walk by, he said:

“Is there anyone luckier than you?”

And I stopped.

In the rain, with three wailing children, and my crazed mind, and a laundry list of things to do, and my goddamn dog who was obviously trying to eat a street-chicken bone.

“Three beautiful children. Is there anyone luckier?” he said again.

I replied, after a deep, deep breath.

“No, no there isn’t. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could go on to talk about the fight my husband and I got into immediately following this moment, or the fact that, instead of writing this right now, I should be working on the project I took on late last night. Or tackling any number of the 47,283 tasks remaining on the to-do list. Or hey, maybe go to sleep?

But that isn’t the moral here.

The moral of the story is: Appreciate what you have. Live your life. Chase your dream. Stay as focused as you can. But be kind to yourself. Give yourself a break. Realize it truly will always work out… somehow.

There will be ups.

There will be downs.

You will get soaked.

And see the light.

There will be moments of clarity.

And of drowning.

But somewhere along the way, you will be reminded – there is no one luckier than you.

If you’re interested in reading more about my crazy life – please follow me @bexhasbabies or to learn about how I support women through their motherhood journey, @itsconceivablebyrebekahrosler.

http://www.its-conceivable.com

♥️💫