When I tell people that I have two kids under two and give them their specific ages, one of two things happens: 1. They grimace and say something along the lines of, “YIKES. You must be tired.” or “You must really have your hands full!” or 2. They compare my situation to that of parents of twins.
Let me just say RIGHT NOW, that I have never been a parent of twins and I, under no circumstances, think that that shit is easy, ya’ll. But I can’t speak to that. Because MY kids, though just about the same size, are not twins. They are on VERY different pages developmentally and are in VERY different stages of personality development. And, in some ways, I think my life might be a little easier if I had had twins instead of accidentally getting pregnant TWICE in a little over a year. I understand that I would have been twice the size I was during my pregnancies. And I understand that I would have had the same newborn issues TIMES TWO. I know. I know! But when I was pregnant with Baby O, L wasn’t walking yet. So, with my bad back and my giant pregnant belly, I was carrying this squirmy ball of energy around with me everywhere. She was frustrated because she did not yet have the autonomy that she wanted so badly, and I was losing my sanity because…PREGNANCY. (Ouch.)
Then I had Baby O. And L started walking thirteen days later. And I had a newborn and a new walker (read: drunk zombie, because that, in my opinion, is what babies look like when they start walking) who was running into crap and banging her head on things and falling down every 30 seconds or so. (I’m still trying to get her to SIT DOWN.) And, while I realize that having TWO doing all of that at the same time would have been really challenging, I think I might have preferred two drunk zombies over one drunk zombie and a meatloaf. Because chasing L around the house and trying to pick her up off the floor after a fall while trying to nurse a newborn was a little ridiculous.
Now, we’re in a pretty crazy place. We are, with Baby O, right where we were a year ago with L. He wants to be mobile. He wants to be held and not be held at the same time. Because being held means he can’t move around but not being held means he can’t move around. So…you can understand his dilemma. But also, I now have L who is independent but entering the Terrible Twos and throwing tantrums and climbing things and locking herself in rooms that she shouldn’t be in in the first place and eating everything or refusing to eat at all. (And unraveling the toilet paper, and trying to flush shoes down the toilet and jumping off of the couch and…I could go on…) So, I’m still chasing. And holding a baby (who now weighs approximately as much as my car…) and trying to keep everyone happy at each of their developmental levels, all while cleaning and cooking and trying to remember to eat a sandwich every once in a while.
I keep thinking about how much time I wish away just wishing that Baby O would hurry up and learn to walk. Because, even though I know it is going to be a whole new drunk zombie experience, at least I will just be chasing and not so much carrying and picking up and all that stuff. I don’t want to wish it away. But my back is pretty much broken at this point, you guys. BROKEN.
So, yeah, sometimes, I think it may have been easier if they were at least in the same place so there wasn’t so much chaos. But I keep holding onto the hope that after the Terrible Twos are over for everyone, things will calm a bit and the kids will entertain each other.
I mean, that’s gonna happen. Right?