Twinning: The Dark Side

Currently, as I’m typing this, Jonathan David is screaming his lungs out and is completely inconsolable. On top of that, I have bleach on my head as I’m trying to color my hair purple. Harrison is walking around sucking on a pouch of baby food. Michaela, as usual, is being a sweet little princess and hanging out in her bouncer seat watching Barney. She’s beginning to fuss though, because Jonathan is, and that’s one of the most frustrating parts of parenting twins. One starts, and the other is not far behind. They poop on the same schedule, feed on the same schedule, sleep on the same schedule. They are so alike in so many ways that it’s truly mystifying. You expect that twins will have some similarities, but considering mine are fraternal boy/girl, I didn’t expect them to be quite so similar.

My days are filled with endless amounts of crying and screaming. Mainly from JD, who I suspect has colic. He cries and cries and screams for no reason whatsoever. He likes to lay on his back, flat as a board - the kid has serious abs of steel - and wails until I’m afraid the authorities will be notified. Nothing helps him - he just ate a six ounce bottle, so I know that he can’t be hungry. He burped, he pooped, and I held him as much as I could until I could no longer stand the shrill screaming in my ears. There is only so much that I can do, while managing to take care of two other children. I was never an advocate for cry it out until I met my twins. They are only four months, but I’m beginning to ease into the process. Otherwise, I would lose my mind - or lose it even more. I’ve literally tried everything with this usually sweet boy - white noise machine, warm bath, switching to cooler/warmer outfits depending on the weather. Gas drops, gripe water, gentle-ease formula. Breastmilk. He’s just a crier, and I’m getting used to it. Almost insensitive to it. That’s what happens when you have three screaming babies at one time. Sometimes, I just have to lock myself in my bedroom and pretend momentarily that I am a single woman without any children and that my biggest worry is what to wear or what to do with my free time. It’s a nice fantasy, while it lasts, which isn’t very long.

Do I have mommy guilt? Of course I do. When the twins were newborns I wanted very little to do with them because I couldn’t enjoy them. All they did was scream and cry and considering the three hours of sleep I was getting at a time, it just wasn’t enjoyable to me. The sweetest moments were when everyone was sleeping and I could stare at their adorable little faces, all peaceful with sleep. Watching their eyelids flutter as they dreamed. But while it as has gotten better, and the fog of depression has lifted, it doesn’t make dealing with three screaming children under two years old any easier.

My attention is constantly divided. I feel guilty that Harrison gets the majority of it, but he’s also a naughty boy that likes to get into everything and I have to make sure that he’s safe. If the babies are strapped into their bouncer/swing/rocker, even if they are screaming bloody murder, I know at least that they are safe and sound. They can’t escape yet (thank you Jesus). I can leave them to cry for a few moments while I gather my sanity, take a few deep breaths, maybe even smoke a cigarette if things are really bad. Sometimes, both are starving. Have you ever tried to feed two newborn/infants at one time? Let me tell you, it’s not easy or comfortable and when it comes time to burp, I’m in for trouble. Usually I’m covered in spit up. It’s so FUN.

Currently, as I type, I have one child (Harrison) engrossed in Barney whilst the other two scream and purple hair dye on my head. I can’t get anything done around the house, let alone for myself, even when I try. I know that being a mother means that you come last, your needs and wants and hopes and dreams all go right out the window when you have babies and they become your number one focus. But for goodness’ sake, I am only 26 years old and I want to dye my hair! Is that really so much to ask?!

Someday, I will look back at these moments and laugh and be sad that my kids aren’t so small and needy anymore. They will reach a point where I’m no longer cool, and I’m no longer interesting. And while I do cherish these sweet moments of babyhood, I can’t wait until I can pee on my own, for the day that I can take a bath without someone barging in the bathroom and climbing in, clothes and all. I can’t wait until I have a moment of privacy, without anyone else around, to simply relax and reflect and work on the novel I’m writing.

Side note: Is it #bedtime yet?