Milestones : Double Stroller

The double stroller was so indispensible to getting around those first two and a half years that I'd forgotten how limiting it was until our day trip to Ludwigsburg recently. Damon had taken the four kids on the train ride while I took the dog and the double stroller to the beer garden to try to find a seat. I spotted an open table halfway down an aisle - maneuevered around two single strollers, tried to push a third out of the way, couldn't get past and then looked up to see that I'd lost the table to someone faster without a double stroller to manuever.

Meanwhile the other diners observed me with curiosity, wondering too how I was going to manage, and probably taking bets on the outcome while at the same time counting their blessings, but noone thought to lend a hand. Today it didn't bother me though and as I laughed and sighed someone stood up to tell me that their table would be free in five minutes. I parked the stroller at the outskirts of the garden and manuevered my way to the table with only the dog.

It was only then that it hit me, why it didn't bother me and why I was so relaxed. I didn't NEED that double stroller anymore. Only a year ago I wouldn't have been able to park it at the outskirts; I needed it to keep the twins strapped in for their meal. Two years ago a meal without the stroller would have been unthinkable, most restaurants and almost no beer gardens don't have highchairs, let alone two. We used the stroller as a seat and as a restraint.

Now I didn't need it anymore. Damon and the kids showed up - our gracious tablemates more than glady relinquished the rest of the table to the oncoming hordes - and the twins scrambled up onto the benches like regular kids. Which they now are. Four kids at a regular table. I am free of the double stroller.

The double stroller is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because you wouldn't get around without it, a curse because it still limits your options in terms of what you can do.

When I had my second child, I slung him into the Baby Bjorn from day one and continued with life as always, chasing his two year old sister through the park, nursing on the run. He slept in it, ate in it, viewed the world from it as Icontinued on with life as usual. A little messier perhaps, but no big deal. In fact, I ended up at the bottom of the kiddy pool with him when I forgot to take the Baby Bjorn off and went down the slide with - as it turns out - the two year old AND the newborn. The baby woke up, the Baby Bjorn got wet, and then we continued on as always.

There was no forgetting that we had twins along.

Shopping for a new car centered around the fact that the double stroller would have to fit in the back - along with four kids, their bikes and the dog.

Getting anywhere revolved putting the stroller together - a five step process I had down to an art - and tucking both babies safely in it before dealing with the older two. The stroller allowed us to get anywhere at all. Later, it also became a form or restraint when I didn't trust myself to follow two two year olds in separate directions. We used it to feed them, on the run with their special bottle holders or in the restaurant, since most didn't have two highchairs available.

I had another stroller epiphany at the mall this month, the same place where I'd previously suffered from my Baby Bjorn envy. This time I took the twins in without the double stroller. We hold hands, we walk, I hadn't even thought about it anymore.

And then we hit the escalators. Matthew very proudly - and cautiously -got on but Aidan wasn't having anything to do with it. Moving stairs? I don't think so. People smiled as he backed away from this strange new object. After finally making it to the bottom he got off beaming and loudly cheered himself. "I did it." he exclaimed proudly. And we used the elevators as often as possible after that, each trip full of thrills and pride.

I was proud too. Proud that I could now take the next step with my twins, move beyond the stroller to the world beyond - a world full of escalators, full of pools only accessible through a flight of stairs, full of castles atop many multiple flights of stairs and full of adventures through tiny narrow doors and down narrow paths.

But proud too that I'd used that double stroller for all of its advantages, that I didn't stay inside and say it couldn't be done, that I'd brought that stroller to zoos and parks and pools and three or four countries in Europe, plus America.


So now I can get anywhere I want to again. Problem is, who is going to carry all of our stuff?

HELP! (Twin Gadgets)

One of the fun parts of being pregnant with twins was looking through all the twin catalogs/twin websites and seeing what cool equipment you were allowed to buy.

Okay - buying the stroller, a new car and TWO new car seats wasn't all that much fun - too much money involved - but the little stuff was neat.

Looking back, I didn't use too much of it, but there are one or two that did make my life easier.

The double baby carriers weren't worth it. When we did use them, we used them singlely - with each of us carrying one baby. Two at once was just too bulky to make it useful. One COULD do it, but it wasn't helpful. I'd suggest finding two single baby carriers and using those; they are cheaper than the official double or triple version. (Yes, they did advertise carrying triplets - things that make you go 'huh'?)

I didn't use the twin leashes either. They were one of the first things I bought, figuring I was going to be out and about a lot. I did see one couple in Florida using them for their 18 month old boys, but they were each following one child individually, which to me kind of defeated the purpose of the whole thing. I just never found a practical application for them, although I love them in theory. Aidan was walking at 10 months and Matthew at 14 - something which is very rare with twins; generally they learn within days of eachother, especially identicals. It worked out since I was able to keep up with Aidan while toting Matthew along on one hip. Also, I was able to leave Matthew on a blanket without great fear that he was going to go anywhere.

I stayed at parks and playgrounds where I was able to keep an eye out on everyone. There were more open parks and fewer playgrounds than with a single child since I wasn't able to follow them both up and down the slide. And they had more freedom to roam than a single child - with me running after the one who happened to be in the most difficulty at any particular moment. Precarious times. Hectic times. But I still wasn't able to figure out how a leash would work to my advantage.

The two things I did find indispensible were the twin feeding logs and the bottle holders. I used the feeding logs for the first six months, until I got the hang of a routine, and was sure that everyone WAS eating regularly. Really - whether you purchase them or make them yourself - these are a necessity with multiples. I carried them everywhere with me. And I also used them to jot down short notes and ideas I had at the time, the only way I remember some of those days in retrospect.

The bottle holders were the best investment I ever made. They are foam pads shaped to rest comfortably on your child's chest and to hold a bottle in position for feeding. They are La Leches's biggest nightmare. Not only are you obviously NOT nursing your child, you are also not resting quietly with your child while feeding it. Even less militant advocates than La Leche have qualms about the holders. Bonding and resting and spending time with your child are as important during feeding as the feeding itself. But, lets's face it - with two or more to feed, and others to care for, feeding isn't always as relaxing as it's cut out to be either.

Words of caution. Never leave a baby feeding unattended. Mine never had a problem pushing the bottle away when they were done, but the obvious risk of choking and/or drowning is there. I also didn't use them until the babies were over three months old. (To be honest, before that time, I don't think the holders would have stayed on their tiny little bodies.) The critical time period was the time from 3 to 9 months, when they were able to hold their bottles themselves.

I got a lot of looks - and laughs - at the two of them in the stroller with these huge, yellow cushions on their chest and two bottles sticking out. Did anyone criticize? Not here in Germany. My guess is you'd get more heckling in the USA, from self-righteous know-it-alls who have never had multiples, but feel they are experts because they personally nursed their two children, born three years apart, until they entered kindergarten.) I fielded some comments with the misgivings I personally had about not being able to personally, quietly feed my children. But for the most part, people were just amazed that I was managing with all four kids at all, and noone judged me for doing what I had to do.

There are also some specialized bottles made in England that you can place on the floor, put a pacifier-like plug into your child's mouth, and you don't have to hold the bottle either. These were something like 75 Euros EACH, and so I settled for the cushions. (The cushions are about 30 Euros each too, but totally worth it.)

A third item, the twin feeding cushion, was also totally essential, but not nearly as much fun. It took up half of the living room, was totally uncomfortable, and trapped me on th couch, upright, for feedings. But it was necessary to nurse, or even bottle-feed, two babies at once, alone.

I've got the baby carriers and the leashes ready - brand new - for the next person who'd like to try their hands at it. One of the bottle holders was lost at an amusement park just as the twins were getting ready to outgrow them, but I do have copies of the feeding log too. And I am more than thrilled to get rid of the feeding pad.

But really - check into those bottle holders. They are the gift of a second pair of hands.

Triplets

February 18, 2009 by christine steinmann connor
As the mother of twins, I suffer from Baby Bjorn envy, the feeling that hits you when you see the mother of a singleton strolling contentedly down the escalator in the mall while you frantically push your double-wide super stroller down the length of the building to get to the elevator on the other side. On the other hand, I have been stopped in my tracks at the sight of a mother pushing a triplet stroller. Not in the mall, she wouldn’t fit, but just down the sidewalk. Or rather, in the street close to the sidewalk, since she wouldn’t fit on there either.
I had tears in my eyes watching her. You WANTED to be happy for her, but all I could think of was the work it had taken to get all three of those babies dressed - it was winter in Germany - and out the door. And how, even if all three of them were quiet for a moment, that the chances were more than good that at least one of them would be screaming any time soon. Or two. Three. At that point, what’s the difference? And then she was going to have to get them all out of the stroller, probably one at a time, up a flight of stairs, again one at a time, and into a small apartment where she would have to undress each one, while they were screaming, and then change diapers and get ready to feed them. With twins, I had a special nursing cushion, which was bad enough. With triplets she would need those special bottles that sit on the floor with a tube leading to a pacifier attached to the baby. She’d have to prepare the bottles - because, I am really sorry La Leche., but women were NOT meant to breastfeed three babies at once, check out the anatomy - maybe even get a chance to get out of her coat - before feeding and then starting the whole diapering process all over again.
Where’s the fun?
I’ve heard that the parents of triplets don’t remember much of the first two years. Maybe it's better that way. We all love our children, singly, in pairs or in three or more..but if there is one present I would give a parent of multiples, it is one more child. ONE. Because, after all that hard work - and I know as well as you do that there is joy in that work - you deserve a reward. You deserve to stand on the escalator, with your child in the Baby Bjorn, and have a mother of twins stare at you in envy.

Jealous (Baby Bjorn envy)

February 18, 2009 by christine steinmann connor
I have Baby Bjorn envy. It’s what a mother of twins experiences every time she has to haul two babies out of the car in the middle of a rainstorm, get them both strapped into the doublewide stroller, find an entrance into the mall that doesn’t involve stairs or escalators, and then change and nurse them both, alone, in a restroom designed for mothers with one child. Exhausted, with one screaming child and one sleeping (so that they can reverse roles again in another hour or so), pushing the darn doublewide the length of the mall just to get to the one elevator...and then you see the cute young mom in the pink sweater, languidly walking past the shop windows with her one baby sleeping in the baby carrier. The baby’s sweater matches mom’s, so that the baby comes across as just a nice -quiet- accessory to top off the picture of perfect motherly bliss. I know. I know. That picture isn’t true. Mom is exhausted too. She is bored at home and frustrated at not getting anything done besides diapers and feeding so she needs this break as badly as you do. She NEEDS the picture to convince herself that everything’s okay. Motherhood is hard and she deserves a break.
But see, SHE gets the break. SHE gets to use the escalator. SHE gets to have ALL of her babies sleeping at once. A friend of mine recently asked me how I was doing with the twins. And I told her it wouldn’t be so bad if EVERYONE had them so that someone else would be able to relate. Just after that another friend at playgroup, with ONE baby, asked if I could change one of the twins outside in the hall because of the smell. And by the time I got them both ready to head into the hall I really figured I might as well just put our coats on and just keep going. It was just too hard.
People cut you some slack for the first year and pile on the praise and admiration. But after that it’s just considered routine that you show up with two kids while they show up with one. And, preoccupied with the difficulties of caring for one toddler, noone remembers that you’re doing more than twice the work. I’m going to stop complaining because, as another friend said, loads of women would love a second child and cannot have one, but I am also going to cut myself the slack that I don’t get from others.
I’ve got double the trouble and double the joy. But I think that’s just what they tell you to keep your mind off the Baby Bjorn.