Don't Judge Me

You can't wear shoes in the infant room at the girls' school (calling it "school" makes me feel better than calling it "daycare"). Well, you can wear shoes but you have to cover them with "anti-skid covers," paper-type shoes like I imagine surgeons wear over their shoes before going into the OR. I understand the point of them - you don't want the stuff that's on the bottom of your shoes tracked all over the same floor where your baby is rolling around all day (and yes, both of my babies are now rolling around!). But have you ever tried to slip on paper shoes over your heels while carrying two infants in their car seats and a bag of 6 bottles? It's next to impossible.

The alternative to wearing these paper shoes is slipping off your shoes before you go in. Much easier. So I keep a pair of black flats in the car with me that I can easily slip off and on when carting the babies to and from the infant room. After I drop off the girls and am back in the car, I change into my boots or heels or whatever I planned on wearing to work. Of course sometimes, probably more than I should, I just end up wearing the black flats to the office. But if I do manage to wear something slightly more stylish to work, I then change back into the flats before I go into the school.

Last Wednesday though, I didn't quite complete the transfer. I somehow arrived in the lobby of the school wearing one black flat and one black high heel. (And no, I don't know how I manged to walk from the car to the lobby without noticing, but I did. I've got a lot going on, people!) I quickly debated what was more embarrassing - running back to the car to make the switch before collecting the girls or hobbling down the hall to the infant room in my mismatched shoes. I started to keep on hobbling, but then I tried to imagine me hobbling back to the car with the two babies and the bottle bag and I reversed my decision. So I darted back to the car, relieved that I'd only been noticed by one smirking father in the lobby. (If that b*tchy director had been around, no doubt she would have commented!)

Of course when I enter the infant room the father from the lobby is in there collecting his baby too. I avoid eye contact with him but make sure he knows that I'm there to collect two babies as opposed to his one. Yeah, I'd like to see him try to drop off and collect two babies every day and still manage to coordinate details like shoes.

I need a sign or a t-shirt that reads, "Don't judge me, I'm the mother of twins." And by the way, how long do you think I can keep riding that excuse? Because I'm thinking I'm gonna need 10, maybe 15 years before I manage to get it together.

Eh, who are we kidding, I've never really had it together. But at least now I have an excuse, right?

Best Laid Plans

At the beginning of every new year, we tend to remark about how fast time flies. "Can you believe another year has gone by?" we say. But this year, I can definitely believe a year has passed. In fact, I'm a bit awed that it's only been a year since last New Year's Day. So much has happened! Could it be that 365 days ago I wasn't even pregnant? (Well, I was pregnant, but I didn't know it yet!).

It wasn't until January 15th that I took the test and two blue lines appeared. Roger and I were simultaneously thrilled and terrified to learn that we were having a baby, but this was the plan, right? We had begun looking for a house a few months earlier, with the intention of starting a family, and there we were, pregnant and ready to close on a house on January 28th. It was all happening according to plan. But then on January 29th, my ultrasound showed two heartbeats - definitely not part of the plan!

But one heartbeat was really slow, barely there in fact. The doctor explained that while I was currently pregnant with two babies, there was a strong possibility that one of them might not make it. Roger and I spent the following weeks both excited and scared - trying to wrap our heads around the possibility of twins without letting ourselves get excited about the idea.

Three very long weeks later, my second ultrasound showed two strong heartbeats. Baby B just needed some time to catch up. I admit, I was a little surprised by the rush of relief I felt in that moment. I was so very scared of having twins, but I had been even more scared to not have them. Of course Roger claims he was never scared. He knew all along that they would both be fine. And as for how we would juggle two babies, well as usual, he said we would "make a plan."

But a month later, we learned of a new threat to our plan. Roger's company was closing the Atlanta office. We would have to relocate to Chicago or find a new job. I panicked of course, but Roger never did. He simply began job hunting, and by June he had found an even better job.

And then a few months later our girls arrived, and despite all of the planning we had done for their arrival, nothing could have prepared us for the incredible experience of meeting them and learning how to care for and comfort them.

2010 has been a crazy year. And things haven't gone exactly as planned, but you know what? They've turned out even better.

Still, here's hoping 2011 isn't quite so eventful. A nice quiet year...well, that's the plan anyway.