Early on, I read somewhere that you’re not supposed to use the word “no” with infants and young toddlers. Instead of saying “no” all the time you’re just supposed to redirect their attention. Roger and I both discussed it and this was going to be our strategy. And yet, when your child is climbing on the wine rack or reaching for the stove (or both, simultaneously), I challenge you to say anything other than “No!” It’s simply impossible.
Okay, maybe you manage to say “Here darling, look at the zebra toy!” the first time, maybe even the second and third time too, but once you get to the seventeenth time, you’re sure as hell not talking about the zebra toy. You’re screaming “No!” Well, at least I am (Roger too!). And as a result, I have two adorable little creatures that say, “No!” all the time. It’s an adorable, “No!” I’ll give them that. Sometimes it sounds almost like a song: "No, no, no, no!" And it’s often accompanied by a finger waggle (I don’t actually waggle my finger when I’m shouting at them for climbing on the wine rack. I think they got the waggle from the 10 Little Monkeys song. You know, “No more monkeys jumping on the bed!” We waggle during that part. It’s pretty cute actually.) But now, any time the girls do something they know they shouldn’t be doing, they look at me and say “No, no, no!” usually while waggling their fingers. They’ll also do it when I shout at the dogs. Or when I tell Julie “No!” Anna reinforces it by saying “No!” too. Or maybe she’s mocking me. I’m not 100% sure.
They also answer pretty much any question with “No.” Anna more so than Julie. “Did you have a good day?” I ask every day as we leave the day care center. Julie usually answers by repeating the word “day” as a question: “Day? Day?” But Anna answers with an emphatic, “No!” to which I say: “Well, why not?” At this point Anna usually replies in a gibberish sentence ending with a very matter-of-fact, “Mama Dada,” while Julie is still going “Day? Day?”
All this while I’m trying to open the car door with a toddler in each arm.
Once we get home, I review their little take-home sheets to see what they ate and if they did anything noteworthy. “Did you have fun at school today?” I ask. “No!” Anna replies, almost indignantly. “Were the teachers nice to you?” “No!” By now, Julie is joining in too. “Did they change your diaper at all?” “No!” Roger and I can’t help but laugh, because at this point, the chorus of “no’s” is still pretty humorous. But I have a feeling, in the not-too-distant future, all these “no’s” are going to lose their charm.
It’s my own fault I guess. I should have stuck with the damn zebra toy.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Worried.
So, the girls are back in day care. Well, we don’t call it “day care” of course; we call it school because that sounds nicer. It’s going well, I guess. The first few weeks were rough. Both girls had to be peeled from my body every morning, their little faces contorting with so much pain they appeared to have been stabbed. But it’s not like the sound of their screams or the image of them grabbing for me is seared into my brain or anything. I’m much too rational to think that they feel abandoned or that I don’t love them. I know better than that.
Obviously.
The thing is, when they were at home all day, I worried that because they weren't around very many people I was giving them extreme stranger anxiety. I worried that they were bored, that they weren’t learning enough. I worried that by not exposing them to germs now I was setting them up for illness later. I worried. A lot.
Of course now I worry about different things. I worry about the processed, sugary food the day care gives them. I worry that no one wipes their noses (which thanks to those day care germs are now constantly running). I worry that they give Julie her pacifier too much. I worry that their colds will never go away. And sure, I worry that they feel abandoned. The fact that Julie still cries every morning when I drop them off worries me.
But by now I've realized that being a parent just means worrying. As my brother-in-law put it shortly after the girls were born, "Your worst case scenario just got a whole lot worse." And it's so true. Even my carefree husband worries. Which is kind of adorable, actually. He dropped the girls off with me earlier this week, and after listening to me complain about the fact that I'm not getting enough feedback from the teachers, he just marched right up to the director and said "We'd like to see some comments in the notes section of their take-home sheet. You know, just something to make us feel good." The director just nodded and smiled, "Of course."
And now there are comments, so we don't worry quite so much. But we still worry. Because that's what parents do.
Obviously.
The thing is, when they were at home all day, I worried that because they weren't around very many people I was giving them extreme stranger anxiety. I worried that they were bored, that they weren’t learning enough. I worried that by not exposing them to germs now I was setting them up for illness later. I worried. A lot.
Of course now I worry about different things. I worry about the processed, sugary food the day care gives them. I worry that no one wipes their noses (which thanks to those day care germs are now constantly running). I worry that they give Julie her pacifier too much. I worry that their colds will never go away. And sure, I worry that they feel abandoned. The fact that Julie still cries every morning when I drop them off worries me.
But by now I've realized that being a parent just means worrying. As my brother-in-law put it shortly after the girls were born, "Your worst case scenario just got a whole lot worse." And it's so true. Even my carefree husband worries. Which is kind of adorable, actually. He dropped the girls off with me earlier this week, and after listening to me complain about the fact that I'm not getting enough feedback from the teachers, he just marched right up to the director and said "We'd like to see some comments in the notes section of their take-home sheet. You know, just something to make us feel good." The director just nodded and smiled, "Of course."
And now there are comments, so we don't worry quite so much. But we still worry. Because that's what parents do.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
I'm back.
I miss writing. Okay sure, I write all day long at work, but that’s not the kind of writing I mean. I miss writing about me. About my impossibly charming husband. My ridiculously cute spawn. My horrible M-I-L. My cat-loving, pacifier-stealing dogs. I miss writing about the random details of my everyday life. I realize the world doesn’t necessarily want or need to read my details, but honestly, I’m not asking them to. Not yet anyway. For now I just need to write. So that’s what I plan to do. Regularly. I’m not going to promise it will be any good. In fact, some days I'm sure it won't be. But I’m just going to write. And you're more than welcome to read along. Feel free to comment. Or just say hi. You can correct grammatical errors too. After all, I'm in this to become a better writer. Other than that, I'm not sure what my goal is. But that's okay. Like I said, for now I just need to write.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Updates from the Sporadic Mommy Blogger
Wow. So I guess it’s been awhile. The girls are driving now. Applying to colleges. Julie just got a tattoo and Anna is dating a football player named Buddy…
Okay, so it hasn’t been quite that long, but it feels like I could blink and all of that could be happening. Well, I pray there’s no tattoo or a Buddy, but you know what I mean.
The girls’ first birthday came and went. They’re now 13 months old. Anna is walking/running all over the place, but Julie hasn’t really taken to it yet. She’ll take a few wobbly steps before deciding that crawling is the more efficient method of transport. I’m confident she’ll figure it out soon enough though, and to be completely honest, I’m not in a rush to have two toddlers sprinting around the house. One runner and one crawler is challenging enough.
I am, however, anxious for more words. They’ll say Mama and Dada, but that’s about it. I think they’re trying to say other words, but I’ve never been very good with baby talk so hell if I can make it out. I saw a Facebook post the other day from a mother bragging about all the things her 12 month old was saying – “ooh da” for “who’s that” and “dit dow” for “get down.” It got me thinking; maybe my girls are talking but I’m just not a very good translator. Who knows.
Their word comprehension amazes me though. If I say, “Who’s that?” while pointing at Roger, I’m met with blank stares, but if I ask “Where’s Daddy?” they point right to him. They’ll point to their heads, toes, and bellies when asked. They stick out their tongues on command. They’ll fetch certain toys when I tell them too – monkey, puppy, ball, cookie monster, a book. If I mention Sesame Street they look expectantly at the TV. They stand up when I ask them too. They sit down when I say “bum on the seat” (something I’m constantly saying to my little monkeys). They also understand “cuddle” and “kiss,” and let me tell you, there is nothing more adorable than saying “sister cuddles!” and watching the two of them hug. Julie though, can be a bit stingy with her kisses. She may not have figured out how to say “no” verbally, but she sure knows how to express the sentiment. “Can I have a kiss, Julie?” If she’s not in the mood to cuddle, she shakes her head. “Will you take a bite of broccoli?” She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Can Anna have a turn?” She shakes her head. Yes, I realize I’m in trouble.
But wait. What am I doing? If you’re unfortunate enough to still be reading , I feel I should apologize. I didn’t set out to document my babies’ milestones here and yet…when did I become a mommy blogger? Oh yeah, I guess I’d have to post with some kind of frequency in order to be classified as such. No worries there; I don’t see that happening any time soon. But while I'm on a roll, I might as well post a couple cute photos of my spawn. Because that's what mommy bloggers do.
Okay, so it hasn’t been quite that long, but it feels like I could blink and all of that could be happening. Well, I pray there’s no tattoo or a Buddy, but you know what I mean.
The girls’ first birthday came and went. They’re now 13 months old. Anna is walking/running all over the place, but Julie hasn’t really taken to it yet. She’ll take a few wobbly steps before deciding that crawling is the more efficient method of transport. I’m confident she’ll figure it out soon enough though, and to be completely honest, I’m not in a rush to have two toddlers sprinting around the house. One runner and one crawler is challenging enough.
I am, however, anxious for more words. They’ll say Mama and Dada, but that’s about it. I think they’re trying to say other words, but I’ve never been very good with baby talk so hell if I can make it out. I saw a Facebook post the other day from a mother bragging about all the things her 12 month old was saying – “ooh da” for “who’s that” and “dit dow” for “get down.” It got me thinking; maybe my girls are talking but I’m just not a very good translator. Who knows.
Their word comprehension amazes me though. If I say, “Who’s that?” while pointing at Roger, I’m met with blank stares, but if I ask “Where’s Daddy?” they point right to him. They’ll point to their heads, toes, and bellies when asked. They stick out their tongues on command. They’ll fetch certain toys when I tell them too – monkey, puppy, ball, cookie monster, a book. If I mention Sesame Street they look expectantly at the TV. They stand up when I ask them too. They sit down when I say “bum on the seat” (something I’m constantly saying to my little monkeys). They also understand “cuddle” and “kiss,” and let me tell you, there is nothing more adorable than saying “sister cuddles!” and watching the two of them hug. Julie though, can be a bit stingy with her kisses. She may not have figured out how to say “no” verbally, but she sure knows how to express the sentiment. “Can I have a kiss, Julie?” If she’s not in the mood to cuddle, she shakes her head. “Will you take a bite of broccoli?” She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Can Anna have a turn?” She shakes her head. Yes, I realize I’m in trouble.
But wait. What am I doing? If you’re unfortunate enough to still be reading , I feel I should apologize. I didn’t set out to document my babies’ milestones here and yet…when did I become a mommy blogger? Oh yeah, I guess I’d have to post with some kind of frequency in order to be classified as such. No worries there; I don’t see that happening any time soon. But while I'm on a roll, I might as well post a couple cute photos of my spawn. Because that's what mommy bloggers do.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
The terrifying implications of shape-sorting
I have a hundred blog posts in my head right now (okay maybe not a hundred, but at least ten) but just no time to write them. Well, that’s not true; I have as many hours in my day as the next person, but there just always seems to be something more pressing than composing a blog post. You know - work, babies, laundry, more work, dishes, sleep. I don’t beat myself up for not posting because honestly, the amount I accomplish in any given day is pretty damn impressive - even if I can‘t manage to post with any kind of predictability.
But the thing is, I miss it. I miss writing about the things I care about. And even if I wasn’t a writer, as a mom, I want to document all the cool little things my babies are doing. So while I may not have time to explore all the nuances about being a working wife and mother of twins, I can at least keep a record of what my little girls are doing, right? So here goes...
This tenth month has brought all kinds of new tricks. Both of the girls are now master crawlers and cruisers, which means my days with them are literally spent chasing babies. They’re babbling more, but still no real words (except "Dada" of course - the little traitors). That doesn’t mean they can’t communicate though - and they certainly aren’t shy about letting you know how they’re feeling. Anna started waving a while ago - mostly at the Winnie the Pooh balloon in the nursery. Julie also loves Pooh, but only recently started waving at him too. They’ll wave at people now as well, but not always at the right time. They've also started clapping. And when one starts the other immediately joins in - just like little cheerleaders - God help me.
They're eating all kinds of foods - pasta, cheese, black beans, sweet potato fries, kiwi, watermelon, berries. They love peanut butter which you're not supposed to give babies before their first birthday, but seriously? With the amount of peanut butter I consumed while pregnant and breastfeeding, I figured there's no way they could be allergic. And thank God they're not. I might have to disown them.
People ask about their personalities, and I feel hesitant to comment because it seems too early to burden them with traits and characteristics they may or may not keep. And I worry that the assumptions I make about their personalities now will potentially affect how I (and others) treat them. For example, my mom bought them a little bucket with a lid that you sort shapes into. You know - the circle goes in the circle hole, the square goes in the square hole, etc. For months now I've been trying to show them both how to do it, but only in the last week or so has Julie figured it out. She can do the circle all on her own and with a little help can do the other shapes too. I clap and squeal when she gets it right and she giggles with glee at the praise. Anna, completely oblivious to her sister's accomplishment, also enjoys the praise. She looks up from whatever she's doing and gives me a big smile as if to say, "Yes, Mommy, I am pretty wonderful!" before going back to whatever she's doing.
Julie however remains focused on the task at hand, and she gets very frustrated when she can't do it on her own (just like Mommy!). Anna on the other hand, doesn't seem to understand why you would go to the trouble of putting the circle in the circle hole when you could just as easily lift the lid and put the circle (along with all the other shapes) directly in the bucket. And really, she has a point. Why shouldn't you take the solution that requires less effort? (A point often made by Daddy!). It would be easy for me to fall into a pattern of treating Julie like me - a hardworking perfectionist determined to do everything right - and Anna like Roger - a laid back optimist eager to make the best of every situation.
It's not that I think they'll end up in therapy if we do treat them differently because of how they approach shape sorting, but I still want to try my best not to do it. And it's just so tempting - because it's not just the shape sorter. We've been making these comparisons since we brought them home from the hospital. When Julie was screaming for no discernible reason while Anna was cooing in her crib we assumed it was because Julie was stressed and dramatic (like Mommy!) and Anna was taking it easy (like Daddy!). That's not to say Anna hasn't had her moments of inexplicable screaming and Julie has never taken things in stride - they have and they do. In fact, they're constantly switching roles (and thank God they do because those rare moments when they're both inexplicably screaming are near impossible to cope with!). But I want to be careful not to fall into a pattern of treating Julie one way and Anna another. I want them both to know that I think they're both capable of anything. Julie may be named after her orthopedic surgeon aunt but Anna is just as likely to become one. And Bryanna Darby may be named after her athletic grandfather and her artistic aunt, but Julie could just as easily turn out to be the athlete or the actress.
Even if I wanted to, I know I can't dictate their future. But I want to make an effort to open doors - not to push them through. I know; they're barely ten months old and I'm already assessing the potential ways I might screw them up, but how can I not? There are just so many ways...
You know, maybe it's best that I don't usually have time to write because thinking about it all is just a little too terrifying.
But the thing is, I miss it. I miss writing about the things I care about. And even if I wasn’t a writer, as a mom, I want to document all the cool little things my babies are doing. So while I may not have time to explore all the nuances about being a working wife and mother of twins, I can at least keep a record of what my little girls are doing, right? So here goes...
This tenth month has brought all kinds of new tricks. Both of the girls are now master crawlers and cruisers, which means my days with them are literally spent chasing babies. They’re babbling more, but still no real words (except "Dada" of course - the little traitors). That doesn’t mean they can’t communicate though - and they certainly aren’t shy about letting you know how they’re feeling. Anna started waving a while ago - mostly at the Winnie the Pooh balloon in the nursery. Julie also loves Pooh, but only recently started waving at him too. They’ll wave at people now as well, but not always at the right time. They've also started clapping. And when one starts the other immediately joins in - just like little cheerleaders - God help me.
They're eating all kinds of foods - pasta, cheese, black beans, sweet potato fries, kiwi, watermelon, berries. They love peanut butter which you're not supposed to give babies before their first birthday, but seriously? With the amount of peanut butter I consumed while pregnant and breastfeeding, I figured there's no way they could be allergic. And thank God they're not. I might have to disown them.
People ask about their personalities, and I feel hesitant to comment because it seems too early to burden them with traits and characteristics they may or may not keep. And I worry that the assumptions I make about their personalities now will potentially affect how I (and others) treat them. For example, my mom bought them a little bucket with a lid that you sort shapes into. You know - the circle goes in the circle hole, the square goes in the square hole, etc. For months now I've been trying to show them both how to do it, but only in the last week or so has Julie figured it out. She can do the circle all on her own and with a little help can do the other shapes too. I clap and squeal when she gets it right and she giggles with glee at the praise. Anna, completely oblivious to her sister's accomplishment, also enjoys the praise. She looks up from whatever she's doing and gives me a big smile as if to say, "Yes, Mommy, I am pretty wonderful!" before going back to whatever she's doing.
Julie however remains focused on the task at hand, and she gets very frustrated when she can't do it on her own (just like Mommy!). Anna on the other hand, doesn't seem to understand why you would go to the trouble of putting the circle in the circle hole when you could just as easily lift the lid and put the circle (along with all the other shapes) directly in the bucket. And really, she has a point. Why shouldn't you take the solution that requires less effort? (A point often made by Daddy!). It would be easy for me to fall into a pattern of treating Julie like me - a hardworking perfectionist determined to do everything right - and Anna like Roger - a laid back optimist eager to make the best of every situation.
It's not that I think they'll end up in therapy if we do treat them differently because of how they approach shape sorting, but I still want to try my best not to do it. And it's just so tempting - because it's not just the shape sorter. We've been making these comparisons since we brought them home from the hospital. When Julie was screaming for no discernible reason while Anna was cooing in her crib we assumed it was because Julie was stressed and dramatic (like Mommy!) and Anna was taking it easy (like Daddy!). That's not to say Anna hasn't had her moments of inexplicable screaming and Julie has never taken things in stride - they have and they do. In fact, they're constantly switching roles (and thank God they do because those rare moments when they're both inexplicably screaming are near impossible to cope with!). But I want to be careful not to fall into a pattern of treating Julie one way and Anna another. I want them both to know that I think they're both capable of anything. Julie may be named after her orthopedic surgeon aunt but Anna is just as likely to become one. And Bryanna Darby may be named after her athletic grandfather and her artistic aunt, but Julie could just as easily turn out to be the athlete or the actress.
Even if I wanted to, I know I can't dictate their future. But I want to make an effort to open doors - not to push them through. I know; they're barely ten months old and I'm already assessing the potential ways I might screw them up, but how can I not? There are just so many ways...
You know, maybe it's best that I don't usually have time to write because thinking about it all is just a little too terrifying.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Babies On Board
I remember looking at strollers when I was pregnant and the sales guy saying something about using it at the grocery store and thinking “Why would I ever take two babies to the grocery store?” But now that I have those two babies, I find myself wanting to take them everywhere. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s a total pain in the ass to get two babies in and out of their car seats and in and out of the stroller (especially when I’m on my own) but the actual being with them in stores, restaurants, parks, etc is actually really fun. The girls like the change of scenery and I like showing them new things. And I’ll admit it, I kind of like the attention too.
There is a certain look you get when you are cruising around Target with two babies in a stroller. It’s kind of a half-smile/nod that I interpret to be a combination of admiration and pity. In my (quite possibly delusional) mind I imagine they’re thinking “What adorable babies, but how does she do it?” My response to this look of pity and admiration is kind of a shrug/smile that is meant to convey “Thanks, I’m doing the best I can!”
These looks have become so common that I’ve started to anticipate them before they happen. In fact, occasionally I find myself giving my shrug/smile to people that haven’t given me the admiration/pity look at all. They’re just going about their shopping when some strange woman with sweet potatoes smeared on her shirt gives them an odd shrug/smile. I can’t help it!
Now the looks I get at the park are a little bit different. The girls are in the jogging stroller as I huff and puff around the trail getting one of two looks. One of the “park looks” consists of a big smile and nod that can only be interpreted as admiration and encouragement. The look may even be accompanied by “You go girl!” (I eat that crap up!)
The other “park look” is kind of a raised eyebrow “tsk tsk” that suggests they think I am somehow putting my babies at risk by bouncing them around the park in the heat/cold where they might be harmed by bugs/dogs/squirrels/etc. (I ignore these looks!)
But there at the park, I find myself once again anticipating the looks of admiration/encouragement and I often give a big smile of appreciation to random runners who haven’t even noticed that I’m pushing a giant double stroller. And of course on those rare weekend mornings when I’m jogging without said stroller, I tend to forget that I’m sans babies and give my big smile of appreciation to puzzled strangers.
I then remember that I’m just another jogger at the park and, without my babies, I have no excuse for my sluggish pace and racing heartbeat. So yeah, is it any wonder I prefer to travel with my two babies in tow?
There is a certain look you get when you are cruising around Target with two babies in a stroller. It’s kind of a half-smile/nod that I interpret to be a combination of admiration and pity. In my (quite possibly delusional) mind I imagine they’re thinking “What adorable babies, but how does she do it?” My response to this look of pity and admiration is kind of a shrug/smile that is meant to convey “Thanks, I’m doing the best I can!”
These looks have become so common that I’ve started to anticipate them before they happen. In fact, occasionally I find myself giving my shrug/smile to people that haven’t given me the admiration/pity look at all. They’re just going about their shopping when some strange woman with sweet potatoes smeared on her shirt gives them an odd shrug/smile. I can’t help it!
Now the looks I get at the park are a little bit different. The girls are in the jogging stroller as I huff and puff around the trail getting one of two looks. One of the “park looks” consists of a big smile and nod that can only be interpreted as admiration and encouragement. The look may even be accompanied by “You go girl!” (I eat that crap up!)
The other “park look” is kind of a raised eyebrow “tsk tsk” that suggests they think I am somehow putting my babies at risk by bouncing them around the park in the heat/cold where they might be harmed by bugs/dogs/squirrels/etc. (I ignore these looks!)
But there at the park, I find myself once again anticipating the looks of admiration/encouragement and I often give a big smile of appreciation to random runners who haven’t even noticed that I’m pushing a giant double stroller. And of course on those rare weekend mornings when I’m jogging without said stroller, I tend to forget that I’m sans babies and give my big smile of appreciation to puzzled strangers.
I then remember that I’m just another jogger at the park and, without my babies, I have no excuse for my sluggish pace and racing heartbeat. So yeah, is it any wonder I prefer to travel with my two babies in tow?
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Time
As of Mother’s Day weekend, Julie is officially crawling. Anna is technically crawling too, but she can really only move backwards. Go figure. They’re both pulling up on whatever sturdy (and not-so-sturdy) object they can get their hands on. And if you really listen (and are completely desperate to hear it) you can definitely make out “Mama” and “Dada” amid the baby babble. It’s just crazy how they’re becoming little people right before my eyes.
Every parent will tell you how fast the time flies, and I guess it’s true. I can’t believe they’re nearly nine months old already, but then again, I can hardly remember my life before them so in some ways I can’t believe it’s only been nine months.
Time is a funny thing. Most days, my time at home with the girls goes so fast (except for that neverending hour between 5 and 6 when the girls are especially cranky and "Daddy" isn't home to help yet). After we’ve put them down for the night I look around and wonder where the day went. It’s likely we didn’t leave the house except for a walk to the park and maybe I managed to complete a load or two of laundry – so where did the time go? It’s a mystery, but my best guess goes like this:
4 hours feeding babies – milk, baby food, and now “finger foods”
2 hours changing diapers and dressing babies
3 hours playing with babies (me on the floor serving as jungle gym, clown, librarian, musician, and basic safety net)
1.5 hours walking/jogging to the park (includes time spent getting babies in and out of stroller!)
.5 hours bathing babies
2 hours of me scrambling around the house washing dishes, doing laundry, taking a shower, and possibly uploading pictures or posting a blog while the girls nap
That adds up to the 13 hours that account for the babies’ day. My day is a bit longer but I won’t bore you with my few additional activities. I’ll just say they’re minimal and that it all ends with me collapsed in the bed with my kindle over my face. My days in the office also end like that but they're not quite as tiring! It's constant chaos, and yet somehow I wouldn't change a thing. (That's a lie. I'd have a live-in maid!)
So as you can see, the days and weeks go by in a blur, and now over a month has passed since our trip to South Africa.
I intended to write a little more about our time there, but in hindsight it hardly seems as dramatic as it felt at the time. Sure, I could tell you how Julie refused to sleep for more than an hour at a time. How neither of them would nap unless being pushed in the stroller. I could tell you about the post-funeral luncheon where they would have napped in said stroller were it not for the ear-splitting sound of a tile cutter being used on the sidewalk outside (not to mention the oh-so-healthy smell of formaldehyde). I could recount the strangeness of being the sober one amid a grieving family that loves its alcohol or the joy of being reunited with so many friends and family and then the guilt that accompanied that joy (for the reason for the reunion was so very sad). I could tell you how in awe I was of my husband's strength during what was probably the hardest week of his life so far.
Every parent will tell you how fast the time flies, and I guess it’s true. I can’t believe they’re nearly nine months old already, but then again, I can hardly remember my life before them so in some ways I can’t believe it’s only been nine months.
Time is a funny thing. Most days, my time at home with the girls goes so fast (except for that neverending hour between 5 and 6 when the girls are especially cranky and "Daddy" isn't home to help yet). After we’ve put them down for the night I look around and wonder where the day went. It’s likely we didn’t leave the house except for a walk to the park and maybe I managed to complete a load or two of laundry – so where did the time go? It’s a mystery, but my best guess goes like this:
4 hours feeding babies – milk, baby food, and now “finger foods”
2 hours changing diapers and dressing babies
3 hours playing with babies (me on the floor serving as jungle gym, clown, librarian, musician, and basic safety net)
1.5 hours walking/jogging to the park (includes time spent getting babies in and out of stroller!)
.5 hours bathing babies
2 hours of me scrambling around the house washing dishes, doing laundry, taking a shower, and possibly uploading pictures or posting a blog while the girls nap
That adds up to the 13 hours that account for the babies’ day. My day is a bit longer but I won’t bore you with my few additional activities. I’ll just say they’re minimal and that it all ends with me collapsed in the bed with my kindle over my face. My days in the office also end like that but they're not quite as tiring! It's constant chaos, and yet somehow I wouldn't change a thing. (That's a lie. I'd have a live-in maid!)
So as you can see, the days and weeks go by in a blur, and now over a month has passed since our trip to South Africa.
I intended to write a little more about our time there, but in hindsight it hardly seems as dramatic as it felt at the time. Sure, I could tell you how Julie refused to sleep for more than an hour at a time. How neither of them would nap unless being pushed in the stroller. I could tell you about the post-funeral luncheon where they would have napped in said stroller were it not for the ear-splitting sound of a tile cutter being used on the sidewalk outside (not to mention the oh-so-healthy smell of formaldehyde). I could recount the strangeness of being the sober one amid a grieving family that loves its alcohol or the joy of being reunited with so many friends and family and then the guilt that accompanied that joy (for the reason for the reunion was so very sad). I could tell you how in awe I was of my husband's strength during what was probably the hardest week of his life so far.
But those stories don’t seem all that entertaining now. And to be honest, I just don’t have the time!
Napping in South Africa (yes, that's a mosquito net!)
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