8.5 months

Just a quick update today…Izzy is now crawling everywhere and pulling herself up with everything, including my hair. Coley is still not even attempting or feigning to care about the idea of crawling. They are BOTH teething (probably the reason for an abbreviated post). They are both getting the upper two front teeth, and Cole has been waking up every 2-3 hours throughout the night.

 

It is remarkable what lack of sleep can do to a person. The military experiments are all true. I would give every secret of our country up in two seconds for the promise of a good solid five hours at the moment.

I am short with my husband, have not looked in a mirror (nor want to ) in weeks, am getting “through” the days, wondering how I ever thought it might be “cute” to have a third child at some point, have developed some sort of peptic ulcer that feels like a burning hole in my stomach, and am considering anti-anxiety meds to help me cope.. Aaaahhh this post has taken a turn for the worst.

But afterall, the idea is to give you the real nitty gritty. Not the “haha, I got poop on me, oh well I’m lovin’ it!” schpeel. I actually caught myself yelling at my husband over the phone, when he was out of town for work for the second night and attempting to dissuade me from using benadryl with our teething baby (we did not end up using by the way) “I am at WAR, and I am in the Fu&*ing trenches right now. You’re either with me or against me!”

Not very psychologically sound or adept, but when a patient comes in next time and tells me that their baby is teething- that is all they will have to say.

Coley and Izzy at a playdate

Izzy with her Papa Phil

almost 7 months!

Cole & Izzy will be 7 months this weekend and I can’t believe how time is flying. They are growing so much. The days are so long, but the weeks seem to fly by. I find myself trying to make it past the finish line at 7 o’clock each day, and at the same time- trying to hold on to every little moment so I won’t forget. Some days it is all I can do to just get by. Yet, when I remember- I try to relish whatever moment I am in, even if it involves spit up and yelling for the 73rd time “no barks” to my dog as he almost wakes the babies up again from their naps.

Izzy is fully rolling to get from point a to point b and can now get on all fours and do this rocking motion. She can fully sit up now and that means she can take big girl baths. She is sooooo close to crawling- and we have done NADA to baby proof yet! Slow down!!! Coley is still content to eat his feet and lay on the ground and make pig noises. Cole got his first two bottom teeth last month, and now Izzy has her first two coming in. Cole is starting to become very aware of his environment and actually interacts with the little toys on his exersaucer. Izzy LOVES Boodah and laughs and screams at him whenever he is close by. He is weary of her, and should be- because she grabs a nice tuft full of hair whenever he is in range.

On another note- I have noticed something interesting about what children have done to me- mentally. The only way I can explain it is that it feels like they have unlocked another level of my heart. As a result- I am able to love more deeply, feel more joy, and get that misty eyed, ball your throat, feeling everytime I look at my kids. The downside is that I also feel more deeply in both directions. When I hear about a child being abducted, called a name, bullied, or abused- it sticks with me. It doesn’t quite evaporate like it once used to. I now look at the world as a conglomeration of someone else’s “Izzy” and “Coles.”

I just stopped breastfeeding/pumping, and was unaware of the hormone swing that brings. Holy Sybil! The good news is that I can start exercising without worrying about my supply. I am finally finding some sort of rhythm- which usually looks like jumping on the elliptical during that magical 20 minutes when they both are fast asleep, grabbing the one that is crying so they don’t wake the other up, and running them up to the swing, so I can finish the rest of my work out while one screams until I pick them back up. I came to the conclusion that if I constantly try to keep them both cry-free and satisfied 24 hours a day- I will be a plump and unsatisfied mom, stuck in my maternity clothes forever.

 

Here are the latest pics of the babes…couldn’t you just eat them up??!!

 

As I approach that six month mark…and the dreaded “walk”

This is an excerpt from a rant I posted on the twins support forum last Saturday after my husband was incapacitated from some sort of stomach plague…with no break in sight. You don’t have to be a mother of twins, just a mother, to find some shared (comic) relief, I think. Bare with me:

 

Saturday afternoon therapy for my twin mommas (warning super long post that goes nowhere): As I write this during a magical moment where both my twins are asleep, it is coming from both a place of frustration, as well as a place of sharing/caring in hopes that it might strike a common chord among my twin momma “sisterhood.” I would love to hear your all’s thoughts, difference or shared opinions, musings, etc. Also, writing for me is therapeutic- and that’s exactly what I need today- this Saturday where I thought there would be light at the end of the tunnel, but suddenly my husband comes down with a stomach virus that has him relegated to the guest room for the entirety of the weekend, leaving me no respite in sight- therapy.

I had a thought today, as I was trying to complete what had become a four hour attempt to put away one load of laundry..”This is crazyment.” This life of taking care of twins, trying to keep a household together and clean or at least looking like most people living in it are not diagnosable with some form of severe mental illness, trying to exercise so you can sleep at night, trying to sleep at night so you can exercise the next day, trying to maintain whatever semblance of your former self you might have- whether that be career life, social life, as a partner/wife, or sister/daughter.

With twin babies, there is no break. There is no coveted nap time where you can finally clean the bottles, do the laundry, exercise, bathe, or just change your underwear, spray on some perfume and deodorant and make it seem like you had a shower. There is no schedule like “well he goes down at 9, 12, and 3, so let’s plan our playdate accordingly.” They are two different human beings, and as such- sleep on their own schedule. I never know from day to day what their schedule is going to be.

As I find myself approaching that 6 month mark, I nervously watch my breastmilk supply going down- and so I shove as many fenugreek capsules, lactation cookies, and “power pumping” sessions as I can into a day that is already packed with being tied to a breastpump or a baby’s mouth, an employee who needs assistance, a client who needs help, a husband who needs attention/dinner, a dog that seems to stare into my soul every time he drops a tennis ball in front of me, and a to-do list that never ever gets fully crossed off now.

As I find myself approaching that 6 month mark- suddenly the supportive response of “relax you just had twins,” has morphed into “are you back at work yet? what are you doing to get back into shape? are you doing any mommy and me stuff? have your kids reached the next milestone? you have to schedule just time for you and your husband you know, etc. etc..”

As I find myself approaching that 6 month mark- I feel a sense of urgency to start eating better so that I feel better. Yet that requires time to plan, grocery shop, cook, and yes- eat. So what happens in actuality is I stuff another starbucks latte and breakfast sandwich down my throat to keep me functioning for a few more hours until I can make it to lunch. For lunch, I have visions of going to Subway to grab something relatively healthy to my normal fare- but when the time rolls around, I have lost all motivation to put both babies in the car, in and out of the snap and go, slap myself together into something that resembles a functioning human, or at least something that others wouldn’t stare at in disbelief as I stood in line in a public place- and so I end up in the taco bell/pizza hut drive through yet again. FAIL

As I find myself approaching that 6 month mark, I feel a sense of obligation to breastfeed my kids for another six months until I hit that magical one year mark, combined with an undertone of fear that my supply is now dwindling, next to an overwhelming urge to exercise (even though the catch 22 is that I know it will decrease my supply) to feel better and get back to feeling like the self I once was- energetic, vibrant (most days), and healthy. Yet, when I have that ever anticipated gap in time where both babies are sleeping- all I want to do is sleep and try to recover from the night before. As I “should” all over myself, I also hear the cries of many who have gone before me saying “you shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself.” Another “should” in disguise. I then get down on myself for trying to do too much in a situation that is already busting at the seams.

Just when I think I’ve got a rhythm, one baby learns to roll over and suddenly – game over. The end of an era where I could just lay them down to play quietly with a toy. Just when I think I might have this all figured out- a friend asks me if I want to go for a walk and its as if she asked me to elaborate on the theory of relativity.

Pardon the tangent for just a moment- but “do I want to go for a walk?” Hmmm…let me think. My twins have me on a non-stop change, feed, clean, sleep schedule all day and I haven’t even had time to write the log I am supposed to be keeping their daily schedule on, much less fax over a claim to an insurance company, call my mom back, respond to a client that needs to reschedule, send my grandmother another picture of the exact picture I sent her before via text but she can’t figure out how to scroll down, reheat- for the 3rd time, my half eaten breakfast sandwich that I suspect might now be carrying salmonella but I’m willing to take the risk. But yes- let me wake at least one of my babies up, strap them both in the stroller, so that I can swindle that precious moment in the day when all the stars align and they are both sleeping, to walk. No thanks. Not today.

Doing therapy for a living, one would think I might have this stress/time management stuff down. Yet despite all those many years of training- there is nothing in a book or a classroom that quite prepares you for this. It is a schizophreniform, emotionally labile world we live in as mothers. We are constantly tired, stretched too thin, cranky, irritable juxtaposed against an underbelly of overwhelming joy, laughter, fun, happiness, excitement, and gratitude to have these little gifts/miracles from heaven. We can be mired in the muck of the day and with one giggle or grin, we get another plug of energy to get us through the next moment, until eventually we come out on the other side relatively unscathed parents of toddler and tween twins….I am still in disbelief that these mythical creatures actually exist, however.

Well that’s all I got for now. I hope, for those of you, that found time to even read this- you found some commonality and know that today you are not alone. Keep on keeping on ladies. You’re the closest thing to superheroes there is