The First Two Months

Countless girls want to have twins when they grow up.  I lost track of the number of women who see my boys in their double stroller and say, “Aww, I always thought it would be fun to have twins!”

Twins are so easy.

And it is fun.  Double the smiles.  Double the cuddles.  Double those sweet little expressions they make when they are sleeping.  The myriad of Halloween costumes that are now available:  Batman and Robin, Thing 1 and Thing 2, peas and carrots.  Whatever suits your fancy.  So.  Much.  Fun.

Yay!  Fun!

 But also, I am beginning to suspect, having twins is a lot like doing a triathlon.  For 18 years.  Granted, I don’t run unless something is chasing me and I don’t like to put my face in the water, but I do like to bike.  Also, I have twins, so bear with me on the analogy for a moment.

Because when you have twins you are always exhausted, rarely stop moving, and often wonder whether you are going to make it.  You don’t have time to eat.  Or pee.  And you desperately need a shower but have come to grips with the fact that it’s just not going to happen as often as it should.

Now that the boys are two months old, I have just enough perspective and almost enough sleep to look back on our first weeks and make some semi-rational observations about our life with twins thus far.

I think the hardest thing about having twins is that there are two of them.  Just when you get one baby changed, dressed and down the stairs, you realize there is another one waiting none too patiently in his crib for the same.  Every time you pick up one sweet baby and start to cuddle him, you are leaving his sweet brother lying forlornly next to you on the bed/couch/floor/bouncer not being cuddled.  And every time you watch your little boy drift into peaceful, limp armed, smiling-with-his-dimple sleep, there is a good chance your other little boy is staring at you wide eyed from the confinement of his baby-burrito wondering loudly why he can no longer move his arms.  And when you go out?  (If you go out)  There are still two babies.  Plus two pumpkin seats, two blankies, two binkies, two bottles, and 8 diapers. 

Always two.

For the first few weeks, I felt constantly outnumbered and overwhelmed.  I spent much of those first days home crying.  I cried because I was tired and hormonal, but also because I didn’t know how we were going to do it.  How was I going to spend quality time with each of our four kids?  How would I keep everybody fed and clothed and clean?  I literally thought I would never leave the house again.  I vaguely remember saying exactly that:  I was sitting on the bed surrounded by babies, ugly-crying with red eyes and a runny nose.  Between sobs I told Chris, “I am *sniff* never *sniff* going to be able to *sniff* go anywhere *sniff* again.  Ever. *sob*”

But then those first days and weeks passed.  Our truly amazing friends brought us food and diapers and took our daughters to do fun things.  My mom came, helped for a week, and took the girls back to Washington with her for vacation.  Chris’ mom and dad watched the boys one evening so we could go out.  Our amazing friends brought more amazing food.  Our house did not explode and nobody, that I know of, felt unloved or under-cared for.  We survived. 

While Chris and I are still bleary eyed and dreaming (figuratively of course) of longer stretches of sleep, the boys are thriving.  They are healthy, happy, and (I don’t meant to brag) pretty darn adorable.  They enjoy chewing on their fists, smiling, cooing, tummy time, and having their sisters’ faces three inches from their own at almost every waking moment.  We couldn’t be happier with our ‘little’ family of six.

The boys enjoying their sisters and vice versa.

But if having twins is like doing a triathlon, having twins plus two overzealous girls is like running a marathon.  In a tornado.  With glitter.  More on that later.

Tilt your head to the right to see two thriving boys.