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?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
How's it going?
I've started this post 17 times. And even as I type, I hear a baby calling me but I'm determined to write something before I go check (hey, I'm not running for Mother of the Year anyway).
"So, how's it going?" you ask. They're...going. We're all coping. We're all still breathing - albeit with perpetually stuffy noses - but we're getting by. I wouldn't say we're doing any of this particularly well, but we're doing it. We're getting up every morning and getting ourselves out the door. The girls go to "school." I go to work. I pick them up, go home, and then attempt to play with two cranky and overtired babies for an hour while Roger washes bottles and prepares new ones and cleans up whatever mess the dogs have made that day. Around 7, we bathe the girls and put them to bed by 8. Then we scrape something together for ourselves for dinner - sometimes Roger cooks, but honestly, we ate pizza 3 times last week. (Dominos keeps delivering our pizza late, then proceeds to send us a free pizza coupon as an apology.) So we're doing it, but I'd be lying if I said it was going great. It's exhausting. And by Friday, I feel like I've been run over by a train.
Apparently, I look like I've been hit by a train too. Last Friday, one of the directors at the daycare says to me "You're so clever for dropping the girls off before you get ready for work."
"I am ready for work, b*tch," is what I wanted to say, but I can hardly balme her.
Okay, now two babies are calling me. I'm hitting publish without proof reading.
Sue me.
"So, how's it going?" you ask. They're...going. We're all coping. We're all still breathing - albeit with perpetually stuffy noses - but we're getting by. I wouldn't say we're doing any of this particularly well, but we're doing it. We're getting up every morning and getting ourselves out the door. The girls go to "school." I go to work. I pick them up, go home, and then attempt to play with two cranky and overtired babies for an hour while Roger washes bottles and prepares new ones and cleans up whatever mess the dogs have made that day. Around 7, we bathe the girls and put them to bed by 8. Then we scrape something together for ourselves for dinner - sometimes Roger cooks, but honestly, we ate pizza 3 times last week. (Dominos keeps delivering our pizza late, then proceeds to send us a free pizza coupon as an apology.) So we're doing it, but I'd be lying if I said it was going great. It's exhausting. And by Friday, I feel like I've been run over by a train.
Apparently, I look like I've been hit by a train too. Last Friday, one of the directors at the daycare says to me "You're so clever for dropping the girls off before you get ready for work."
"I am ready for work, b*tch," is what I wanted to say, but I can hardly balme her.
Okay, now two babies are calling me. I'm hitting publish without proof reading.
Sue me.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Master Multi-tasker
I've always considered myself to be pretty good at multi-tasking. But until recently (11 weeks and 5 days ago if you want to be precise), I discovered what it means to really multi-task. And I've gotten pretty damn good at it if I do say so myself. Some examples? Well, I can change one baby's diaper while entertaining the other on the floor with my foot. I can rock a baby in a cradle with one foot, while rocking the other baby in my arm and washing bottles with the other hand. I can also pump breast milk, return emails and watch tv all at the same time.
Not impressed yet?
I can bottle feed 2 babies at the same time (see below!); I can breast feed 2 babies at the same time; in fact, I can breast feed 1 baby and bottle feed the other at the same time. I can even feed 1 baby while burping the other. And I've been known to use a headset to talk on the phone while doing all of the above! 
I can also comfort 2 babies simulataneously. Julie often prefers my words to my arms, so if I lay her on the diaper changing station I can sing or talk to her while I hold Anna (who prefers to be held when she's upset). But when both babies want to be held, I find the best way is to sit on the floor Indian style and lay 1 baby in my lap (bouncing my legs slightly) while holding the other baby in my arms. This position also works well for holding 1 baby (in my lap) while changing the other's diaper (on the floor). All in a day's work. I often wish there was someone around to capture my multi-tasking magic on camera, but then again, if someone else was home they better be holding a baby and not fiddling with a camera!
I'm getting pretty confident with my multi-tasking abilities, but Monday I've got another task to throw into the mix - my job. I'm kind of a mess about it. I love my job and I miss my coworkers and I even miss having something to talk/think about that doesn't involve poop and spit up. But I'm also so very sad at the idea of being away from the girls for 10 hours, 5 days a week. It just seems wrong. The longest I've been away from them so far has been about 4 hours. And to immediately jump to 10 seems crazy. I feel I should have been weaning myself off of them in these last few weeks, but I haven't wanted to waste a minute. And I know they will be okay at daycare, but that doesn't mean that I will be okay!
And on top of my feelings of sadness and guilt are my feelings of fear that as good at multi-tasking as I've become, it still won't be good enough. How can I be a really good mom and still be good at my job too? I know all of these feelings are normal, but that doesn't make them any less scary. And I am definitely scared.
But 12 weeks ago I was scared that I wouldn't be able to take care of 2 babies and I've managed that somehow, so I'm sure I'll manage what lies ahead too...
Still, if you could send some thoughts, prayers, and/or good vibes my way Monday morning it would be much appreciated.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Cliche
The girls are 10 weeks old today. And for 10 whole weeks, I have managed to avoid the parenting cliche of running into the nursery just to make sure the baby is still breathing. Maybe a mother of one baby does that kind of thing, but when a mother has two sleeping babies in that room she doesn't dare go in and risk waking them up simply to reassure herself that they are still alive. She just has to trust that they are. I read this in a book about parenting twins, and have found it to be true for me.
Until last night.
Since the beginning, our nights have been pretty predictable. The bedtime has gotten earlier, and the time between bedtime and that first wail has gotten increasingly longer (thank God!), but one thing has remained consistent - Julie is the one doing the wailing. She doesn't eat as much as Anna (despite my best efforts to force her to do so!) so she gets hungry sooner. When she starts wailing at night, I go in and feed her and then wake Anna up to feed her too (Twin Rule #1 - When one eats, both eat). Lately, Julie's first wail has been sometime between 3 and 4 am. Which isn't bad at all. We put them down by 9, so that's a good 6 or 7 hour stretch (if only I also went to bed at 9!). But last night, the first wail was heard at 4:30 - and it wasn't a wail at all but a whimper. And from the sound of that whimper I could tell it was Anna. Definitely not Julie.
Now a whimper can be just a whimper. It doesn't necessarily mean a baby is waking up. She might just be resettling or having a dream, so I usually let it turn into a cry before I go rushing to the nursery. (Don't judge me people - I've got TWO of them in there - I can't jump at every noise!) This time, however, I panicked. But before I went rushing in there, I woke Roger.
"Roger! It's 4:30!"
"4:30?" he mumbles. "That's awesome - she made it to 4:30." (The "she" being Julie - because it's always Julie.)
"But it's not Julie. It's Anna, right? Isn't that Anna?" I say, shoving the monitor closer to his ear.
"That's Anna," he agrees, more awake now. "But go look."
I tiptoe into the nursery and sure enough Anna is barely whimpering and Julie's eyes are closed; she's totally still. I creep closer. I put my hand near her nose to make sure she's breathing. I think I feel air. I'm pretty sure. I give Anna a pacifier and she falls back asleep immediately. I run back to the bedroom.
"Well?" Roger asks. He's sitting up in bed, clearly worried.
"It was Anna," I confirm.
"And Julie's okay?"
"I think so."
"Well, is she breathing? Did you check?" He starts to get out of bed.
"I think so! I don't know!" I say, uncertain now of whether I actually felt air or not.
We both go rushing back into the nursery. Roger reaches into Julie's crib to touch her face. She opens her eyes slightly, looking irritated by the disturbance. Roger then goes to Anna. He needs confirmation that she too is okay. She's sound asleep.
We tiptoe back to our room relieved though realizing that we've become the cliche. The fact that Roger is also a cliche makes me feel slightly better about the situation.
And just in case you're curious... half an hour later, Anna started whimpering again, then crying, so I went back to the nursery to feed both of them. But 9 pm to 5 am? I call that sleeping through the night! Now let's just see if they can do it again...
Until last night.
Since the beginning, our nights have been pretty predictable. The bedtime has gotten earlier, and the time between bedtime and that first wail has gotten increasingly longer (thank God!), but one thing has remained consistent - Julie is the one doing the wailing. She doesn't eat as much as Anna (despite my best efforts to force her to do so!) so she gets hungry sooner. When she starts wailing at night, I go in and feed her and then wake Anna up to feed her too (Twin Rule #1 - When one eats, both eat). Lately, Julie's first wail has been sometime between 3 and 4 am. Which isn't bad at all. We put them down by 9, so that's a good 6 or 7 hour stretch (if only I also went to bed at 9!). But last night, the first wail was heard at 4:30 - and it wasn't a wail at all but a whimper. And from the sound of that whimper I could tell it was Anna. Definitely not Julie.
Now a whimper can be just a whimper. It doesn't necessarily mean a baby is waking up. She might just be resettling or having a dream, so I usually let it turn into a cry before I go rushing to the nursery. (Don't judge me people - I've got TWO of them in there - I can't jump at every noise!) This time, however, I panicked. But before I went rushing in there, I woke Roger.
"Roger! It's 4:30!"
"4:30?" he mumbles. "That's awesome - she made it to 4:30." (The "she" being Julie - because it's always Julie.)
"But it's not Julie. It's Anna, right? Isn't that Anna?" I say, shoving the monitor closer to his ear.
"That's Anna," he agrees, more awake now. "But go look."
I tiptoe into the nursery and sure enough Anna is barely whimpering and Julie's eyes are closed; she's totally still. I creep closer. I put my hand near her nose to make sure she's breathing. I think I feel air. I'm pretty sure. I give Anna a pacifier and she falls back asleep immediately. I run back to the bedroom.
"Well?" Roger asks. He's sitting up in bed, clearly worried.
"It was Anna," I confirm.
"And Julie's okay?"
"I think so."
"Well, is she breathing? Did you check?" He starts to get out of bed.
"I think so! I don't know!" I say, uncertain now of whether I actually felt air or not.
We both go rushing back into the nursery. Roger reaches into Julie's crib to touch her face. She opens her eyes slightly, looking irritated by the disturbance. Roger then goes to Anna. He needs confirmation that she too is okay. She's sound asleep.
We tiptoe back to our room relieved though realizing that we've become the cliche. The fact that Roger is also a cliche makes me feel slightly better about the situation.
And just in case you're curious... half an hour later, Anna started whimpering again, then crying, so I went back to the nursery to feed both of them. But 9 pm to 5 am? I call that sleeping through the night! Now let's just see if they can do it again...
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Cry Baby
Everyone tells new moms to "sleep when the baby is sleeping." Great advice I suppose, if you don't have anything else to do except feed and entertain your baby. But following that same logic, I've taken to crying when the babies cry. I mean...why not, right? Sometimes a girl just needs a good cry, and as they say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em...right?
Okay, so I don't always cry when they cry, but yesterday I was particularly weepy and couldn't help but join the girls nearly every time they expressed their inner angst. Why so sad, you ask? Well, believe it or not, Roger's parents left last night, and despite my concerns prior to their arrival, it was great having them here. The M-I-L was amazingly helpful and we were thankful for every moment that Roger's dad got to spend with his newest grandbabies. (He was particularly taken with his namesake, Bryanna.) But his declining health made saying goodbye particularly tough this time, and that - coupled with the reality that with his parents' exit, Roger and I are truly on our own with these little ones - made for an especially teary day.
But I'm feeling better today. And I know that scary as it may seem, Roger and I are ready to be on our own again. The girls are doing great, and that's because of us. (Well, it's really because we are blessed from above, but you know what I mean.) Some days they are doing better than others (and that goes for me too!), but we're sticking to the little routine we've got going and modifying the plan as needed. I'm still overwhelmed - as you will certainly see if I ever get around to typing the blog posts that I compose in my head at night while feeding babies - but I think I've accepted that as a mother of twins, the feeling of being overwhelmed is probably here to stay. So I'm just gonna roll with it...and not apologize if I occasionally join in with my girls when they're having a good cry.
Okay, so I don't always cry when they cry, but yesterday I was particularly weepy and couldn't help but join the girls nearly every time they expressed their inner angst. Why so sad, you ask? Well, believe it or not, Roger's parents left last night, and despite my concerns prior to their arrival, it was great having them here. The M-I-L was amazingly helpful and we were thankful for every moment that Roger's dad got to spend with his newest grandbabies. (He was particularly taken with his namesake, Bryanna.) But his declining health made saying goodbye particularly tough this time, and that - coupled with the reality that with his parents' exit, Roger and I are truly on our own with these little ones - made for an especially teary day.
But I'm feeling better today. And I know that scary as it may seem, Roger and I are ready to be on our own again. The girls are doing great, and that's because of us. (Well, it's really because we are blessed from above, but you know what I mean.) Some days they are doing better than others (and that goes for me too!), but we're sticking to the little routine we've got going and modifying the plan as needed. I'm still overwhelmed - as you will certainly see if I ever get around to typing the blog posts that I compose in my head at night while feeding babies - but I think I've accepted that as a mother of twins, the feeling of being overwhelmed is probably here to stay. So I'm just gonna roll with it...and not apologize if I occasionally join in with my girls when they're having a good cry.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Cool or Crazy?
This morning I breastfed Anna in the nursery with an audience of not just the M-I-L (who was helping me top Julie off with a bottle), but also my father-in-law, Roger’s two brothers, and my three year old niece – all while Moose and Maia attacked each other on the tummy time mat. Does this make me a cool, laid back, evolved mom? Or a crazy woman incapable of setting boundaries?
The jury is still out on that one…
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