If delivering twins was hard, raising them -virtually alone- was almost impossible. Yes, their dad was there, but he was there for the fun stuff only like: vacations, birthday parties, and graduations. The day- in-day- out responsibilities were all mine. Because I was so overwhelmed most of the time, my reverence for motherhood was fleeting- at best. Did I love my daughters? ABSOLUTELY! Did I love being a mother? NOT SO MUCH! My friends and relatives would speak about the joys of motherhood and how much they liked being moms. They made me feel guilty. As a matter of fact, so guilty about my general disdain for the burdens associated with parenting that I over compensated for those feelings by pouring myself into the job of being a mom 100%. To say I spoiled the twins would be a gross understatement. Not only did I adorn them with material possessions, but also with my undivided attention and unwavering affection. They never spent the night out and would respectfully decline any invitation to do so. I basically created monsters. I vividly recall my daughter responding to a hater- who implied she was a gold digger- “Ha, Ha, trust me I’m no gold digger. Anything I want my mother will supply!” She wasn’t lying.
Luckily, all of that effort did not go unrewarded. My grown daughters are the most generous, articulate, gracious and intelligent women I know. I tell them all of the time that they are way better people than I am. They remind me constantly that I was a way better mother than any of my friends or relatives, who claimed to love motherhood so much. While they are still very demanding, they never fail to acknowledge how much they appreciate the sacrifices I made.
I am so lucky to have two women in my life, who as adults, are unequivocally my very best friends. However, it’s the BACKBOARD BABY, who has stolen my heart. She is by far my most favorite human. The love I feel for her surpasses any love I have ever experienced in my many years on this planet. What previously felt like a burden as a young, inexperienced mother of twins, now feels like a blessing with my granddaughter. Changing her diaper, corralling her in a public place, or even staying up all night with her when she is fussy is not my duty, but it is absolutely my pleasure. What I’m not so excited about is being called, “Grandma.” Therefore, my little BACKBOARD bundle refers to me as, “GAGA” and so does her daddy!
When the twins grew up and I lost them to the great big world out there. Like all mothers do, that emptiness I felt was completely eradicated the day Jada came running towards me with a huge smile on her face, squealing the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard…”GAGA, GAGA!”
So hang in there young mothers… I promise it’s so much better the second time around.