I can breathe.
BOTH babies are sleeping. Thomas is in the bathtub (likely doing things which will make me bite and swallow my tongue in ten minutes but I'm ignoring right now). And I'm staring at the computer screen wrestling with my reflection of the day.
Today was no taste of the rainbow. There were lots of great things that happened, scattered like elusive bright sparks throughout an endless string of intense, stressful, sober minutes. But mainly it was tough.
Even though Alistair & Emerick are one month old, today was only my 4th day alone with all three boys and it ran smack into the beginning of the twins' 2nd growth spurt. Twin growth spurts are super intense. Just nursing twins is intense to begin with. Just trust me on this. Intense.
By the end of the day, nursing every two hours had me feeling like a wilted flower, one strong gust of wind separating me from death. Listening to the babies cry for food several times before my body was ready meant that numb kind of mild agony where you just feel like throwing up the white flag. Alright. Enough. I surrender!
Highlights of the day included the following: Thomas asking to make a card for Nana and being happily preoccupied by the project for over 20 minutes, putting together that jumbo puzzle of the USA so that we could talk about Daddy going to Canada today, eating leftovers that were nutritious and deemed edible by Thomas, and sleeping in thanks to Paul's foresight that I might not make it through today without some help in that department.
|Serious face for a serious letter to Nana.|
Not so great notes of the day included the following: Finding irony in that I interrupted my spiritual reading (about surrendering to God per living fully in each moment) to growl-talk to Thomas about making that sound, scarfing down dinner while both babies cried for food (felt like I was eating shame, couldn't even taste the steak...much), not showering, and having to send Thomas to his room for the following offenses which were individually silly and collectively awful: whining, crowding Emerick, and spitting on that card he poured out all his love and stickers on for Nana.
Oh, also, my little nugget o shame I have saved for last. I am no Attached Parent. I'm an attached parent, just not with the capitals A and P. So when it came to "wearing" Thomas I bought a sling and a Moby wrap and that's as far as I made it. It was like lacing up my shoes for a run and then sitting on the couch. I'm that mom.
Last week I watched videos on how to wrap up both babies in the Moby. Thomas watched me fumble and fiddle with the wrap while I nervously laughed on the outside (and cried tears for another lesson in late-blooming Ashley strikes again) and he watched on in pity. After gnawing on my humiliation for a few days for not crossing this off my list of must-have tricks for surviving twins, reality nudged me in backing up and just trying with one kiddo.
Today, with all the seriousness I could muster, I studied (AGAIN!) youtube videos and practiced, practiced, practiced the wrap with one of the twins. You're right. I didn't practice that much. I tried once and was tangled up and awkward. I tried a second time and it came loose. I tried a third time, grabbing whichever newborn victim was closest to me at the time and felt pretty good about the snug way his body fit. Or I did for about three minutes before the sensation bore itself on me that we were both sinking in quick sand but him a little faster. I went about the house pretending I had finally figured this wrap business out, flipping through a cookbook, ignoring Thomas disassembling his car seat, humming a little diddy. But no, failure. Failure and shame. I can not flipping figure out that wrap. There. I said it. Those things drive me crazy. Crazy! I feel like I'm one wrong step away from my baby falling out and that's if he hasn't latched onto my clothes / flesh with some invisible teeth he's bobbing around on my chest with because my babies are out to suck until the well runs dry, dry, dry. Dry, I tell you!
There's tomorrow. Tomorrow wherein Thomas goes to day care and I return to living life according to a to do list... and more youtube videos of criss-crossing and knotting a simple piece of cloth.
|Worth all the milk and the madness!|