Times Two

When the boys were born, I received an adorable little frame that read "Twins are Love Times Two". While putting laundry away the other day, I spotted the frame and thought back to the time when I placed their newborn photo inside. I wondered if that person had any idea what she would face two years down the road? I occasionally meet people in public who tell me how doubly blessed I am or how fortunate I am to have twins. I feel a pang of guilt as I fill in the phrase with my new updated versions "Twins are Vomit Times Two, Twins are Snotty Noses Times Two, Twins are Screaming and Waking All Night Times Two". But the guilt gets swept away by a little chuckle.

The last month has been a blur of runny noses, ear infections, coughing fits, vomit, diarrhea, ER visits, and countless calls to the pediatrician. Now that health has returned and life has approached our version of "normal" once again, I am content to stay right here.

Supermom

I'm not entirely sure how often twin moms can say they feel like Supermom. It's probably more accurate to say we feel like Frazzled mom, Going-in-thirty-different-directions mom, Sleep-deprived mom, or a host of other non- super related titles. Despite the fact that many people think we are super human for simply surviving the pregnancy, birth and first few months of raising twins; I'm going to guess it's not that way for most of us. But allow me to remove the large umbrella here and just speak for myself when I say it's not enough. For me- I need to do a little more than manage a shower before noon to feel accomplished in this crazy twin parenting world.

This morning was one of those rare Supermom kinds of days for me. I managed to get more than 3 hours of sleep through the night, had both babies wake at a humane hour, fed them, changed them, got them dressed, gave them their medicine, had breakfast, made my husband a cappuccino, and got myself and the kids out the door for a much needed walk...and I did it all before 8am!

Traveling With Twins: Part 1 (along with a lot of side comments)

We just returned home from our first official family trip. I say official because it isn't the first time that we have traveled as a family. This was however, our first trip for the sake of leisure (as if that is attainable with 7 month old twins). 

We decided early on (before actually having twins) that we didn't want to be parents who stayed glued home for the first several years of their children's lives (though there may be some sanity and wisdom in that). So in true Phil and Jen form- we decided that 7 months would be a good age (why- I have no idea); and we started planning our European vacation. After deciding on the South of France- we honed in on some quaint rustic towns and worked on finding and booking a villa. Once all things were booked and paid for, it was time to pack (and for me- time to panic).

As the 7 month mark approached for the boys, I began to realize that all of the little benchmarks I had been hoping for (and quite frankly, counting on) were not being met. When they were 4 months old and we were planning our future travels- I had this picture in mind that I would have 2 babies who were sleeping through the night, eating solids regularly, and an overall feeling of normalcy and freedom returning in my life. As our trip drew near- I was forced to contend with a very different reality. Instead of the above mentioned picture, I had two babies who were teething, sleeping horribly through the night, feeding every two hours 24 hours/day, and there was nothing normal or sane feeling about my life. My quaint and somewhat peaceful little vacation on the Mediterranean was becoming a looming nightmare. Instead of looking forward to France and all of the wonderful clean air and tasty food- I had resigned myself to think, "at least I will be miserable in France instead of China."

The first leg of our journey would take us from Shanghai to Moscow for a 1 night layover (a story that deserves its own post) and then we would head to Nice the next day. As we prepared for take off- the worst case scenario began to unfold. My two sweet little hell cats started shrieking for no apparent reason (and they continued to do so, on and off, for the next 5 hours). We were finally "those people" on the plane. The Old Catholic God of my mother's past emerged for a moment when I thought surely we were being punished by God for something.Four long hours into the 10 hour flight, I had convinced myself that once we got to Moscow- we would promptly find flights back to Shanghai, and I informed Phil that I was not going on to France. My saner half refused to accept this and told me to suck it up and deal with it. After all he reasoned, by the time we got to Moscow it would be a matter of another 4 hour flight before we were in sunny Nice and enjoying the beautiful weather (little hell cats and all).

I conceded, gritted my teeth, and walked the aisles of the plane for the next 6 hours...

The Sleep Fairy

What a difference a little sleep makes! This is one of those obvious statements people throw around without much thought; and until you have lived with so little sleep over such a long period of time, you don’t realize just how true it is. In fact, you begin to forget what it feels like to be human at all.

I was blessed last night by the sleep fairy; though I am referring to my husband so perhaps I should say something like the sleep manly- man or the sleep king. Whatever I call him; he took two dream feeds and the boys had their biggest stretch of sleep in months… a whopping 4 hours! All things combined and I had collected more sleep by 1 am than I normally do in an entire night.

Armed with my super human powers, I awoke with the boys at 5:45 this morning and felt as though I could conquer the day; so conquer I did. I let Phil sleep in while I got them ready and took them for an early morning walk through the city.

Big deal you think; but huge milestone for all of us. Let me give you a wee bit of background so you can appreciate the milestone along with me.

For the last 6 months, life has been a blur at best. Between recovering from a high risk pregnancy, a premature delivery, 5 days in the hospital trying to hold off labor, an eventual c section, caring for premature twins, going from bottle feeding to breast only feeding, and then reflux to top it off- I have felt like a shell of my former self; no, not even a shell. A shell implies the remnants of shape and form, and I am not even sure I have felt that. A trip out with the help of another is a daunting task in itself; so a trip out on my own, though seemingly unremarkable is quite remarkable indeed.

As I strolled through some of my favorite alleyways enjoying the beautiful day, I felt particularly empowered and entirely capable. It was in that moment that I realized capable is not a word I would use to describe myself in this whole parenting process. After too many months of very little sleep combined with the challenges of living in a foreign country with no family nearby, raising twins, and dealing with reflux- I’d forgotten what it was like to even feel capable.

I must say it feels pretty good...