It was a beautiful spring day in south Jersey today. The terrible and I went to the park. They are funny there. They don’t care about the other kids. They are on a mission. A mission to discover as much as humanly possible. With that in mind, I took them on a nature walk. As I was watching them climb the hill ahead of us, I realized that there was nowhere I’d rather be.
Three years ago, I would have been at a happy hour. I would have been kicking back with a beer discussing how we can fix the Phillies. We would be laughing having the time of our lives. Not ever realizing how life could be so different.
I don’t think you can remotely understand how your life changes after you find out you’re pregnant. And then after that baby (babies) is/are born. Once upon a time, I thought we were busy. We weren’t. We were selfish. We had every right to be. Life was about the next adventure, the next party, the next big thing. We didn’t have to worry about sleepless nights or ear infections, baby proofing, toddler beds, stranger danger, or diapers.
To someone without children, those things may seem like a bad nightmare. And sometimes it is, but I wouldn’t, couldn’t change it for the world.
Motherhood is amazing. In the time it takes to pee on a stick and have a positive sign pop up, you have changed. It’s no longer about just you. It’s the both of you, (or three) of you. Fathers have nine months to come to terms with the idea. Mothers don’t. We worry, the instant the plus sign pops up. We become someone else. We become mommy. We may not be ready but we have no choice. We slowly transform into entirely different person. It happens. Our childless friends and family can’t understand they haven’t been through it. They are still selfish. Searching for that next adventure. And that’s good. They should. They should embrace life. Sleep late, go to happy hour, and party like it’s 1999.
As I walked behind the terrible laughing that them now running down the hill, I thought, my life is perfect.
Boys are gross. I would never dream to do some of the things they do. I would never dream of eating the things they eat. Never. Maybe its just my boys. I don’t think so but maybe.
I just picked a ladybug wing off Alex’s chin. It presumably fell off while he was eating the rest of her gross little insect body. Why? Why would anyone want to eat a bug? Ok, you are in a survival situation and a ladybug is the only thing you can hunt and kill. I get that. I don’t get why my child ate one while sitting in my living room watching Peppa Pig.
My other gross son, Ben, ate poop. Yeah, this is the most disgusting of all my stories. I was changing Alex and Ben reached over and grabbed a steaming handful of poop, ate it, then looked at me. How do you clean a baby’s mouth out after he eats poop? How do you look at him the same way? I can tell you the answer is, you can’t.
They fart and think it’s funny. It seems to be way funnier if they fart on each other, and the funniest when they fart on me. Side note: their father also finds this hilarious. I don’t.
They pee on each other in the bath tub. I find this completely counterproductive. They seem to be riveted by their penises. Awesome. Great. Just like their dad, uncles, cousins, and friends. Why are boys like this? I never seemed to care about my vagina. Nor did I ever think it was funny to pee on a girlfriend. In fact, I have never farted on another being, ever.
Could this just be my boys? I certainly hope not. If it is, I blame their father.
We are in day three of what I like to call: who needs sleep anyway?
In effort to keep our spider monkey children safe, we switched them to toddler beds on Sunday. Such a big milestone was sorta lost on them, even though I cried a little. They seemed more concerned with how much freedom was now bestowed upon them.
Night one. Running, jumping, dancing until midnight. A nice little cat nap, then running, jumping, and dancing until four am. A nice sound sleep til seven. Up for the day.
Night two. Exhaustion set in around 6:00. They went down for a sweet one hour nap. Bedtime rolled around and that nap totally bit me in the ass. After nine pm, I decided that I needed sleep and so they went to bed too. But they didn’t go to sleep. They played and played, and played until they passed out in the same bed around 10:30. Ok. I’ll take that. I’m not picky, just tired.
Day three. Nap time seems to actually be playtime without parental supervision in the room. The bookcase was emptied, the sheets were strewn across the floor. Diapers were cleverly placed in the window blinds. It was a mess. But on a positive note, they did fall asleep…in the same bed, one at the headboard and the other at the footboard. Pretty stinking cute.
I have no idea what tonight will bring, I just hope they don’t figure the diaper genie out.
Friends of mine just found out they are having twins. I’m not really sure who is more excited. Me or them. They will soon join the parents of multiples club. Boy oh boy, what a club it is.
Life is different with two at a time. You have to do things differently. You need more help. You need more stuff. You have more worries. You learn how to juggle schedules, feedings, doctors appointments, and diaper changes.
You become a master bargain hunter, (especially for diapers). You learn to budget money and time. You learn to sleep when they sleep. You also learn that daily schedules are a must. You eventually learn to live with a messy house.
But most importantly, you learn that being a parent of multiples is the coolest thing in the world. All the hard work pays off. All the sleepless nights are forgotten. All the worries seem trivial over time. It always works its self out.
I am a mother of multiples. My life has been filled with twice the worries, twice the diapers, twice the bottles and three a.m. feedings.
Double the doctors appointments, double the prescriptions. Double the stomach flus, double the allergies. Let’s not forget double the ear infections and double the amount of teeth to come in.
I have two little boys fighting, competing for my attention. Two little boys getting into trouble. Two boys in time out.
But don’t take pity on me and my double trouble life. I have also have, double the laughter, double the love, hugs and kisses.
I look around me and feel like I hit the jackpot. How many women can say they have two men that adore her? Adore her so much, they literally, cry when she leaves? Jump up and down when she returns? Think she is the prettiest, funniest, more amazing woman in the world? I bet not many women can say that. But I can.
Sometimes its hard to remember how lucky I am. See the first and second paragraph. But I am.
Alexander and Benjamin: no matter what happens in your life, I will always be right next to you both. Loving you unconditionally. You are my greatest accomplishment.
I’m going to start this post by highlighting some of my recent outings with the terrible.
Walmart. Ben was in the top part of the cart, and Alex was in the large bottom part. As I’m yelling at Alex to stop throwing groceries out of the cart, he throws a can of beans at a little girls head.
Target. Alex in the top part, Ben in the large bottom part. Ben and Alex decided that while I was looking for shoes (for their fat little feet) it would be a good time to pull all the shoes that their little sausage fingers could reach.
The local mall. Ben broke free from the wagon ran into a store, shoplifted one left high heel then took off running down the mall.
The children’s clothing store. Lost Alex in a sea of clothing racks. Found him. Lost Ben. Found him. Left.
In fact, all these times ended with us abruptly leaving mainly because to stay would mean another chance to cause mayhem.
I don’t want to curb their independence or make them feel like dogs but safety is first. Right? I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem natural to a harness on them. Afterall, they are 18 months. This is what 18 month toddlers do. Right? Or did I give birth to some weird monkey/babies? My fear is something bad will happen. They are cute, I’m sure some crazy person would want to steal one or Ben with his love of all things truck, would run into a parking lot.
The stroller is not an option anymore as they will not sit in it to stroll anywhere. We have a wagon that works well, (usually) but it doesn’t fit in my car. I am not talented enough to push two shopping carts by myself, and i don’t have enough patience or upper body strength to carry both of them for an extended period time.
So do you, have you, used leashes for your children? Do you think it is completely unacceptable to leash? I need serious opinions because I am thoroughly confused on what to do.
The terrible turned eighteen months today. I was thinking back over the last two years and what a strange trip it’s been.
Three Christmas’ ago, I peed on a stick and a little positive sign popped up. After seven little pee sticks I decided I was pregnant. I cried. Tears, big, sloppy, ugly tears of pure fear. I guess a little excitement too. Mostly fear and anxiety.
Fast forward to saint patty’s day 2011. Congratulations! You’re having twins! What? More tears. A lot more tears. Bigger, wetter, uglier tears.
July 25th, 2011. They come six weeks earlier than expected. Yup, you guessed it, more tears. I cried myself to sleep everyday for the two weeks they spent in the NICU. Pure sadness. Pretending everything is great for family and friends is really difficult when your face is so swollen from crying.
Sometime around October of 2011 the terrible developed colic. Tears of frustration, and exhaustion rolled down my cheeks every single night. Anyone who has had a colicy baby knows how difficult maintaining sanity is. Imagine two at once. Just imagine it. I’ll give you a moment….
Then one day no more tears. No more sadness. Just survival. Get through the day, get to bed, do it all again tomorrow. Sometime around their first birthday, it started to get really fun. They started walking, and playing, and discovering.
So, eighteen months later with a lot more gray hairs; I still cry. Only, it’s tears of laughter. The terrible are hilarious. Jason and I find the humor in our crazy life. We have to. We wouldn’t want it any other way. We couldn’t imagine it any other way.
Months of demonstrating, begging, pleading, and wishing; my dream has finally come true. I wasn’t sure this day would ever come. I had hoped that it would but wasn’t optimistic that it would happen. As a parent there are milestones that we pray for….
The terrible are finally using utensils instead of their little sausage fingers.