Thursday, July 30, 2009

Sleep School

Last night the boys were awake on the hour -- their own personal worst. So, I did what any sensible desperate mother does and booked them into sleep school, only to be told there's a three month wait. THREE MONTHS.

Informing an exhausted mother of twins that, is like giving a child a Christmas present and telling her to open it the following year.

My friend booked her triplets in when they were still in utero. They went at 5 weeks and had no sleep issues. Any expectant mothers of multiples take note: that's the way to do it.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

"Double Trouble" and other tiresome exchanges

As a mother of twins, I was hard pushed to get off the couch for the first 6 months of my boys' existence. Now I have, however, ventured off the couch, I'm not sure how appealing life extra-living room is.

As an extrovert, it is delicious and highly rewarding experience to traipse the town with the boys. I am completely eclipsed (What? With this greasy hair and these trackies? C'est n'est pas vrais...) while the boys are treated like celebrities. This may explain why real paparazzi-avoiding celebrities with twins are so loathe to show them in public.

Although the attention is fun, however, the comments people proffer drive me mad. To this end, I have devised a series of retorts for all the standard exchanges. If you have twins, feel free to borrow them. If you don't have twins and you are about to say one of the following things, STOP. It does not matter how well intentioned it is, just smile and nod to the mother. She is a true Olympian and deserves respect. She is also exhausted and not culpable for her behaviour: she may bite.

Inane passerby comment (IBPC): "You've got your hands full."
Bitter Mother of Twins (BMOT): "I'm not sure about that, but I've certainly got the pram full."

IPBC: "Do you have a licence to drive that thing?"
BMOT: "No. I lost it for drink pushing."

IPBC: "Are they identical?"
BMOT: "Yes. Although they don't share a father."
[Umm, ask a dumb question...Actually, this one always stumps me. My son George looks like his father and grandfather but Edgar looks more like Knox and Shiloh Jolie-Pitt than us. In fact, he's so pretty we sometimes wonder he's the result of a stray frosty.]

IPBC: "Double Trouble"
BMOT: Silence. Stony silence. This is so hackneyed it does not warrant a response.
[NB. The perky MOT says "Twice the fun" or something equally cheerleader and upbeat. The perky MOT probably has a housekeeper, a full time nanny, a night nurse, a cleaner and a mother of her own with no life. Or she's retarded. ]

Our wonderful pram is an "Easy Walker" which also provokes comment as it's about the width of Julia Robert's grin and the length of a semitrailer.

IPBC: "Oh, the Easy Walker."
BMOT: "Yes, you should see the Awkward Walker"

Then there's always the angry passer by who decides to take out their frustration on the pram.
Eg. APBC: "The size of that pram is ridiculous."

BMOT: "I sometimes cut it in half and leave one of the boys at home."


"It's the same width as a wheelchair. It must be terrible to be handicapped."
[Thanks Lisa...]

Must go. Edgar is chewing the iron cord and George is hurling highchairs around the kitchen.

Over and out.


Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Photo

After looking at this blog, an acquaintance commented that I was looking great. We haven't caught up. WE CAN NEVER CATCH UP.
Did she really think that photo was recent? Does she really think a person could look like that after 18 months without sleep? After putting down a family block of white chocolate and a box of white chocolate magnums per day while breastfeeding (true story)? Does she really think I will ever use a recent photo again? No way Jose. My days of happy snaps are well and truly over. From here on in, it's all about old shots, airbrushing, and heck, if it hurts less than my ceasar, plastic surgery.

The comment actually reminded me of a school visit I did last year 7 months pregnant. Although the photo was well under a year old at that stage, one of the girls in the audience put up her hand and said "You know. You don't look anything like your picture." Bless. That's why people send their kids to private schools. I felt like holding her thick glossy plaits and dunking her poreless skin in a vat of oil. You'll be relieved to know I didn't.

Must sign off. Boys sleeping and I don't want the typing to wake them.

Mother of Twins

I am a mother of nine month old twin boys and this is my maiden blog. Or course it's probably best referred to as an Old Maid blog because that's how I feel: exhausted and elderly -- the sort of exhaustion one can only know when one hasn't slept for 19 months. That, for anyone who has experienced the joys of a multiple birth pregnancy, includes the time I didn't sleep while the boys were brewing.

As I am technically a writer, everyone assumed that I was dutifully recording every detail of my sons' lives over the last nine months. As I didn't manage to find time to have a shower until last week, recording the details of the chaos was unimaginable; I was up to my armpits in breast milk and pureed prune.

The nine months have passed in a sort of blur, however, and if the next nine pass in a similar blur, I'll be left holding two 00000 onesies at the boys 21st wondering where it all went. So, here it is, my first attempt to put finger to keypad and let my readers (Hi Mum, Hi Peter) know how we're progressing. Two boys, two readers: for a mother of twins there is Noah's Ark symmetry in every aspect of life.