Participating in Reality

The day that we were released from the NICU, I was standing in the hospital entry way with our double stroller, waiting for Shannon to bring around the truck so we could go home. I was a bundle of nerves, not because I was going to be taking care of two babies, but because it would be the first time that Adam would have to share his house and his space with two new siblings. (Looking back, that was the last thing I should have been concerned about).

A woman about my age walked in and saw me there with the stroller and walked right up to me and said, "Congratulations on your twins! I have twins at home too, and the best thing I can tell you is that the first six months is going to suck and then after that it will be the greatest thing you ever did."

I never repeated it because I smiled and said, stunned, "okay." And then I thought, what a horrible way to look at any part of your life and know or expect it to suck. So I have existed over the last 4 months with the utmost devotion to finding the greatness in everyday. Most days are a blur, so I write about them. When I write, I write knowing in the back of my mind that my kids will read this one day and I would hate for them to think that I didn't love every moment of my time with them, from caring for them when they are sick to the firsts like eating from a spoon, saying the most creative phrases, or rolling over for the first time. I do enjoy every single moment... but sometimes I have to enjoy them days later when I'm not immersed in the screaming, the anxiety, the sleeplessness or the utter exhaustion.

So I leave out things like even though Adam is feeling much, much better, it takes an hour and a half most nights to finally get him to sleep. Even if we start at 7:45 at night, he'll get up every 2 minutes because he's scared, or to say that his mouth hurts, his foot hurts, his hands hurt, he saw a ghost in his room (and like a good mom, I tell him there's nothing there and he's perfectly safe, but secretly I'm as freaked out as I was when I was 6 (and 32) and was (am) scared of ghosts in my room. By 10 pm, Shannon, Adam, and I are purely exhausted from the battle to fall asleep.

I leave out that Colin often refuses a bottle, and even if you coax him gently, his gag reflex will teach you that when he says "no" he means it. I don't talk about how we've cleaned up vomit on him, on ourselves, off of bouncy chairs and floors at least every three days because of his sensitive gag reflex, or excess mucus, or a stomach bug. Most of the time, he isn't even sick. When I can, I nurse him even though I fight for every ounce of breast milk I can supply, and Claire will have no part of it. Claire loves oatmeal. But for Colin, even the slightest taste of it on the top of his lip will cause him to gag and vomit. It's not just the clean up that is stressful, but also not knowing the cause and worrying about how Claire has now outgrown her bigger brother (just slightly).

I don't talk about how Shannon and I are constantly on duty, regardless of whether we want to take a shower, go to the bathroom, eat a snack, or change our clothes. I don't like talking about how often one of us has to back out of a room because our patience has run so thin that we have to tag the other into play, knowing that our counterpart is most likely just as exhausted or short on patience. We step up, and then, after all kids are in bed and finally asleep, we wash bottles, clean the kitchen at the bare minimum we can get away with, and get everything ready to start the 2 hour ordeal it takes to get the kids ready for daycare the next day.

And then, we cross our fingers on our way to work that we won't get a call at work saying that we need to come pick someone up because of vomiting, diarrhea, or fever.

I was feeling the effects of reality today, realizing that we've been working or on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for the last 4 months, and feeling down. I remembered what that woman said about 6 months, and volley back and forth between hoping she's right and not believing her. I remind myself constantly that I'll look back and miss the days when I could cuddle almost endlessly and when I put the twins down they stay where they are, for the most part. That constant self-buoying usually works, but today I was revelling in my exhaustion and had to back away emotionally, so I hid behind my camera.

I see pictures of people with their families at the pumpkin patches and fantasize about what it would be like to get a picture of all three kids with the pumpkins this year, and I know it won't happen. Adam is too young to hold the babies without darting off the second he sees something more interesting (all of the pictures I take of him are candid, where he is just doing what he does), and the babies are simply too little to do anything without help but lie down.

Life is complicated because Adam is two and half, very independent, but still two and a half. Colin and Claire are at that awkward baby stage of 4 months, where they need to be interacting, exercising, and want to be involved, but they also can't sit up yet or do much more than look at mobiles when they are on their own. They get bored, and you want to spend every moment smiling at their cute little smiling faces, but I can't do that as much as I want.

Today, reality got to me. The sleeplessness got to me. The never having a moment to myself irked me. The thought of changing one more diaper or washing one more bottle made me cringe. I did something I hate to do. I checked out. I went through the motions; I focused on every single tiny little detail of today and removed myself from life.

Instead, I pulled out the camera so I could be in the room but have a filter. A way to participate without actually participating. Ironically, as I snapped pictures I found myself wanting to immerse myself back in it. Even when Claire was screaming in pain from stomach cramping and even when I jumped up to help Shannon change another diaper blowout at dinner.

So here is what I saw today that made our Sunday a "typical day." Here is the story of how I removed myself from my life briefly, only to realize that I desperately wanted back in again.

Shannon went to get his haircut this morning, and while he was gone I changed a diaper blowout on Claire (number 1 of 3 today because she is sick). Adam didn't have clothes on because he is 2 and he doesn't like clothes. Colin slept in and still had his jammies on when the camera came out.

Colin isn't amused.

Claire and Adam

All three this morning. Colin's face is scratched, Adam won't give up the pacifier (AND hold babies - it was for their safety), and Claire is in a diaper, but I saw an opportunity and I jumped on it.

After the twins' first nap, I wanted to take pictures of me with Claire. But that fell apart. Then I decided I'd try to take some pictures of her with pumpkins in our backyard. She simply wasn't feeling it, and by the time we came back inside, literally 5 minutes later, Adam was roaming the house in tears because he had woken up from his nap and couldn't find us. Big Fail.

Not feeling it.

She tried though.

While we were watching the football games, Adam got to eat peanuts with Shannon. Adam hates peanuts (and peanut butter), but will eat a million if he gets to eat them with Dad.

Dad got full, but Adam still ate from the peanut tin. And spit them out so many times that Shannon dubbed it "Adam's Peanut Tin."

The two (below) I just love. The lighting is "off" but there's nothing more that I could do to them to make me love them more.

Claire refused to eat because she was sick, I had to wake Colin up from a nearing 4 hour nap to try to convince him to eat (and he refused), and I took Colin outside so we could watch and take pictures of Adam while he drew with sidewalk chalk in the backyard.

Colin, poor guy, simply was not feeling well at all today.

But Adam had a nice time with the sidewalk chalk. For the most part it is self-explanatory.

...doing what Dad did...

"I drew on my shoe."

"I'm sorry I colored on your knee, Mom."

After art time we went in so I could make dinner. Pork Chops. Red Potatoes with Parsley. Green Beans. While I prepared, Shannon tried to comfort a very upset Colin, and then finally put him down for a nap. The nap didn't last long.

Soaking baby bottles.

Trying very hard to be charming enough for a pre-dinner pacifier.

Potatoes and parsley, or if you are Adam: Apples and Grass.

The face of a guy who got burned by trying raw parsley.

gourmet.

Help me, please.

Adam's plate.

Mom and Dad's dinner

 
Then Claire started crying so Shannon tried to feed her, and she was inconsolable.

Refusing to eat but pretending to be cooperative.

Claire finally starts to feel better after two dirty diapers (and removing the dirty clothes that came with them).

Okay, I'll take that bottle now, Dad.

Finally settling down to eat after a diaper change

Poor Colin... he woke up, refused to eat, and sat (miserable) with us the whole time. This was just prior to a diaper blowout half way through dinner

BIG bite.

He got a fist bump from Dad for trying the potatoes. (poor Claire is in an unfortunate position)

In all, we had three kids upset but not eating at dinner, 4 dirty diapers (2 of them blow outs), and lots of noise. Dinner tonight, by all accounts, was a complete, total disaster. But somehow, when we left the table, everyone was smiling (well, Colin was more lively, anyway).

Adam had caramel popcorn out of his Dallas Cowboys "drum" for dessert, everyone got into pajamas, Shannon cleaned the kitchen and put the twins to bed, and we survived another day.

Colin never did warm up to today.

Is it bedtime yet?

I will now go to bed far later than I should have, and try to manage to share a bed with a little 4 month old boy who really is just not feeling great, and a two year old who is for some reason refusing to sleep in his own bed and would only fall asleep listening to me type. Shannon is taking care of a sick little girl while he sleeps on the couch and she sleeps on the nap nanny on the floor next to him.

And as I look back on the pictures from today, I wonder how on earth I could have ever thought it was a bad day. Maybe there is so much good that life needs to be in slow motion so I can catch all of the good parts. Or maybe I'm just too in love with the people I share a life with to notice the bad for too long.