This time, it’s March 29.  The babies are now just over 3 ½ months old.  Wow.  Time flies. 

I’d like to say things are getting “easier,” but I don’t know if they ever really do—you just get used to them and they become the new norm.   You establish a routine and you make it work—with room to just wing it a bit. 

My saving grace the past three months has been my mom.  She’s really helped me kind of pull things together with the babies, the house, and she, as always has acted as a sounding board to just let me vent a little when things get hairy.  I can only hope that my kids have as good of a relationship with me as I have developed with her through the years. 

Oliver and Olivia have grown like weeds in the past couple of months.  With their reflux acting up, we had them back at the doctor last week to adjust their medication.  Oliver weighed 11lbs 3oz, and Olivia weighed 10lbs 2oz.  They have really started responding and smiling, rolling over, laughing, trying to play with toys, hugging blankets and really just turning into their own little people.  They are both sleeping all night—until about 7:30 in the morning—thank God!  However, I still don’t sleep.  Now that they are in their nursery, I spend the nights (as I am tonight—it’s 2:30am) lying awake listening to the monitor and springing to action with every little sound.  I am fully aware I’m neurotic, but hear me out… here is my fear…with their reflux, they are constantly vomiting or spitting up.  With the whole “back to sleep” deal, I am terrified that one of them will spit up, not be able to spit it out, and choke on it in their sleep.  So, I just don’t sleep.

What I have learned this month is this…

•  If they have been fed, changed, burped, held, etc., and are still crying---it won’t hurt them to cry in their crib or on their mat long enough for you to run to the bathroom.  Despite the slight bladder control issues post pregnancy, peeing yourself is not recommended. 

•  It is possible to rock a car seat that’s in the back, from the front seat, while driving…not safe, but possible.

•  Crying is acceptable when having to pack away their newborn…and 0-3 month clothes.

•  No cars were made with families of multiples in mind---except for maybe conversion vans, and that’s just not cool.

•  I hate doing laundry.

•  Even more I hate washing bottles.

•  So…I have Ken do both.

•  I am not “1c” (I’ll explain later)

•  While double feedings are efficient, babies are not in any way…it turns out it’s easier just to go with the flow, feed them, change them, hold them, nurse them one at time—sit back and let them enjoy it and relax. 

•  There are three types (so far) of baby crying (all demonstrated by Oliver daily)—“Whining for no real reason,” “WaaaaWaaaa---because I’m pissed but can’t shed a tear,” the worst of all and saddest thing I have ever seen—“My heart is broken and my feeling are so hurt, and I have real tears running down my face for a real reason---like, the sun is in my eyes or I don’t want my overalls on”

•  Short hair rocks

•  Baby chicken hair is hilarious.  Even more so is Oliver’s friar tuck look he has going with no hair on top.

•  Olivia think that cameras are going to steal her soul and refuses to cooperate for pictures---while Oliver makes love to the camera.
•  Moms are never in photos.  In 3 months, the only photo I have of me and the babies is immediately after they were born in the hospital operating room.  Every photo since--either I have been taking it, or someone else has made sure they were holding them for the photo-op.

•  Weight Watchers makes me want to cause my husband bodily harm.  He has lost 20lbs in less than a month, while I struggle to shed 10. 
•  Stretch marks look like tire tracks, and a my stomach looks like an 18 wheeler slammed on its brakes
•  There is such a thing as "fat deposits"--and they are grotesque 
•  Babies also have "fat deposits," yet--theirs are adorable
•  A baby's giggle--not laugh, but full on giggle, is the most intoxicating sound in the world

•  And…there is some sort of sick and twisted—highly mis-informed fascination with twins by the general American population…the following video is a perfect example and the conversation I have EVERY time I go out with them verbatim…

The past few months have also made me tremendously value down time with just Ken and the babies—which we get very little of. It’s really great to be able to just sit down in the evening, eat dinner, feed them, hold them and just relax for the first time all day. 

This has been an exhausting year.  With our One Year Anniversary just around the corner, it’s hard to believe what all we have done.  Our wedding, the babies, the renovation…  While I definitely can’t say this year will be boring—nothing is boring with twins—it will hopefully give a little more time for just relaxing as a family, just the four of us J

I think what is the most difficult for me personally with all of these adjustments is how the dynamic of mine and Ken’s relationship has changed in so little time.  Aside from dealing with the ongoing hormone surges, weight gain from the pregnancy, lack of sleep and mounting work which I used to kill—my self esteem took another blow with a recent conversation where Ken referred to me as 1C.  As in—“if our house were burning down and I had to save you all, you would be 1C”  I know it.  You know it.  He knows it—and quite frankly, I wouldn’t want it any other way… but nonetheless, that’s not something you actually verbalize, and it hurt.   In the course of a year I went from his fiancé who was his #1 in everything, to his wife who was supposed to be his #1—but within a couple of weeks I was the future mother of his children who he thought he had to protect to the point of my frustration, but not for my sake—for the babies, to Mommy---who is now “1C.”  So much for the first year of marital bliss…  That makes it tough.  We had enough struggles leading up to our wedding with family drama, that I had thought, finally, when we get married, it will be “us” and we can just sit back and enjoy each other for a while.  No stress.  Not so much.  Before I could blink, I am 1C.  No one wants to think they are third in line the first year they are married…  No one wants to have to share their time all week with people besides their new spouse.  Unfortunately/fortunately, however you choose to look at it, having our babies completely overshadowed (which rightfully it should have) our new marriage and life together with “us.”  We didn’t get to figure out how to be “us” before we became “US” and I became 1C.  There came a whole new set of identities and stresses before we even got to grow into who we would be together.  All of that being said, love the O’s more than anything in the world and more every day.  I wouldn’t change a thing.  You just don’t realize how much of yourself you give up and where you stand until a label is put on it.   1C.

I know how selfish that whole last paragraph sounds---trust me, I’ve been arguing with myself over it for weeks, but there is no part of being a mother that is easy and in all honesty—it makes me feel smaller, less significant and more humble every day.

On that, having my children has made me, for the first time in my life, consciously aware and terrified of my mortality—and even more so of my own parents.  Before having the babies days just seemed to roll into days and time passed, years passed, without anyone really seeming to get older or age to me.  I didn’t feel any older.  My mom and dad didn’t seem any older.  Now, watching the little ones grow pretty much daily has made me grossly aware of how precious and limited time is.  30 years have passed for me in the blink of an eye, and now, I find myself terrified of losing my own parents, and of the time when I am not there for my children.  The thought of either is just gut wrenching.  Events, tragedies, illness…they happen every day.  Now more than ever, I am grateful for everyday I have—thankful that no hardships have beset my family—and pray that we will all live full and healthy lives for a long, long time.


Wishing your family health and happiness, as well.

~B

I am beginning to write this one on Valentine’s Day---we’ll see how long it takes me to actually get it finished and posted…

Tonight, I’m sitting here trying to drink a glass of wine while the babies are sleeping (finally).  They had their two month check-up today where they got 3 shots each and some sort of drops squirted down their throat.  Not pleasant.  Not even slightly.    Olivia was initially really upset about it, but got over it and just went to sleep—Oliver…what can I say?  He is his father’s child.  He cried initially, went to sleep, ate, then screamed to the top of his lungs for an hour, then went back to sleep and continued to whimper in his sleep for the rest of the night—hands down, the saddest thing I have ever heard.  Heartbreaking.  Ken is in Charlotte for work, and my mom is in my guest bedroom with a 102º fever.  So, tonight it’s just me and the O’s.

So much has happened, has changed in the last two month—even more so, the last year—but with two months into having our little ones home, so much more has come in to perspective. 

I found out a few days ago that a friend of mine is also having twins—1.  I am so thrilled for her and her husband—twins are such an incredible blessing, trying, but rewarding.  What was absolutely terrifying almost a year ago (and still is most of the time), I now couldn’t imagine being any other way.  2.  After finding out, I sat trying to think of the answers I could give her on “twins” and the differences between them and ‘singletons.’  What it made me realize, was how many ways my own life has so drastically changed and what I have learned.

•  I can’t go to the grocery store without unless someone is home to watch the babies—you can’t take two infants in the grocery store, and still fit groceries in the cart.  It just isn’t possible.  You also can’t push a double stroller and grocery cart at the same time.  You can, however, clip a mountain climbing cantilever clip to the stroller, fasten a basket to it and do some minor emergency shopping if necessary. 

•  I don’t go to Starbucks.   Suddenly, that $5 cup of coffee just isn’t worth the effort to get out a stroller and two infant seats, just to pop in and grab a cup to go—and I don’t think those intellectuals sitting in the corner would have quite the same appreciation for the cooing and grunting coming from under the sun shades that I do, while sipping on their $5 cups of coffee and busying themselves on their Macs.

•  My day is planned in 2 hour intervals.  Their feedings are every 3 hours and take a full hour to complete.  So, I have two hours between each feeding to get done what is needed.  Two hours goes by fast.

•  I don’t shower unless someone is here to keep an eye on the babies—being that with two, they are never both happy at the same time, and rarely are they happy long enough to shower and get dressed.

                                •  I do A LOT more laundry.  Correction…Ken does a lot more laundry.

•  The décor in my house now is interrupted with multiple bouncey seats, swings, mats, bumbos, and toys.

•  “I’m sorry—now is really not a good time, my twins are screaming.”  Is ALWAYS a good excuse for pretty much anything.

•  On my original thought months ago to grow my hair out so I could “just pull it back…”  I was way wrong—long hair looks just as dirty as short after two days without time to shower.

•  Phones can ring without being answered…and ring and ring and ring…

•  Twins require at least 112 bottles in total per week—and at least 112 diapers—usually more.

•  When managing 112 bottles in a week—they are easiest when made in advance, warmed about 10 minutes before feeding time and washed in the dishwasher—not by hand.

            This one should be updated---I have since learned that bottles are easiest when made with warm water straight from the faucet and immediately stuck in the crying child’s mouth – bottle warmers are for people with time on their hands.

•  Baby vomit is projectile.  It will shoot out of baby beds and onto the floor, without even so much as touching the inside of the bed.  It also stinks, as do baby formula burps and baby farts. 

            Update—Baby poop is projectile as well.

•  I am now ambidextrous.  I can also do things with my toes—like grab burp clothes that are just out of reach while holding a baby in one arm, and a bottle for the other in its mouth while its sitting in a Boppy.

•  Two Boppies are necessary for double feedings—yes they are possible and a tremendous time saver.

•   Manicures are a not necessary—actually, they are a waste of money, when you end up with poop and butt paste under your nails.

•  There is a certain criteria for restaurants when you have two babies…or one…fast service, spacious booths with room for carriers, not crowded, not loud, have hot water to warm bottles, and have tables far enough away from one another that you are affecting other patrons.

•  My SUV suddenly feels like a compact car once all things baby are loaded up.           

                                •  When it’s raining, you don’t leave the house.  When it’s cold—you

don’t leave the house.  When the babies are crying, you don’t leave the house.  When you don’t have help, you don’t leave the house.  When you are on the brink of a nervous break down and about to scream curse words at the golfers behind your house---you put the babies in the freaking car—help or none, and leave the house.

•  The gym—which is 20 minutes away—is not an option.   40 minutes of driving time during a 2 hour gap is entirely too much of a waste of time.

•  However, gym clothes are acceptable attire for getting puked on—

everyday.

•  Help—is necessary.  Not because you aren’t capable of doing it alone, but because it’s not healthy, and you won’t be sane come the end of the day.

I could give soooo many instances of how life has changed.  I could tell you how my boobs look like nice and fluffy when full, and like flat saggy U’s after nursing.  I could tell you about how when they both start screaming and crying at the same time, my first reaction is to burry my head in my hands and cry and rock myself instead of them.  Cars can’t drive fast enough when babies are screaming in the back seat—or slow enough when they are sleeping.  I could tell you I have spent every day some where in between an emotional break down, a psychotic break, and being absolutely smitten and in love.

It’s a balancing act.  It’s a constant, ongoing balancing act.  Thankfully, I’ve always been very good at multi-tasking.  I wouldn’t give it up or change it for anything, but I would be lying if I said it was easy or fun all the time. I feel like a lot of people have the misperception that babies are “fun,” and babysitting is fun, and that it’s just feeding and changing a diaper or two and it’s easy.  It’s not.  There’s not 1—there’s 2, and I don’t know anyone who can honestly say they’ve been there-they can handle it.  For this reason, I don’t trust anyone else to do it.  No one can possibly understand how difficult it is until they see it at its most trying moments first hand—but in those moments, I wouldn’t want anyone else to be responsible for handling that.  With that, it will be a very, very long time before I leave them with anyone unless absolutely necessary.  I am seriously struggling with this weekend because I am in a dear friends wedding and will have to leave them briefly two nights in a row.  It’s going to be nerve racking, gut wrenching.  A couple of weekends ago I left them with Ken for about 4 hours and cried when I got to the mall with my mom because it felt like something was missing.   Having had to go back to work almost as soon as we got to bring them home, and having not carried them for 9 months---Ken doesn’t quite ‘get it.’  While there are some people who I simply don’t think can handle watching them, my not leaving them is nothing personal against anyone else---I am just simply not going to do it because it’s not comfortable.  The sheer thought of it makes me sick.

Okay---it’s March 29, and I am just now getting back to this, so much has happened in the past month—I will just post this one as is, and start fresh. 

Oh…how time flies when you’re having fun.

~B