I just never considered that
I might end up with twins. I knew twins and I babysat for twins. I
listened
to my friends muse that it would be so nice to just have twins the first
time around and then be done with pregnancy. But I never had those daydreams
myself. I always knew that this would be too much chaos for my orderly
existence. When Oliver was born, I couldn’t believe how exhausting
and all consuming he was; and I have a very clear memory of saying to
Chris, “I don’t know how people have multiples – I just couldn’t
do it.” But here we are, and somehow we’re all alive, and I find
that I don’t need to have everything in order anymore.
It’s impossible to predict what a weekend day at home with the kids
will bring: how many battles of will I can expect, what moods I will
encounter when I enter their bedrooms in the morning, who will have
a runny nose, or when they will actually start the day (it could be
anywhere from 5:00 to 7:30 a.m.). What I do know is that I will have
a pile of laundry that will never be completely folded until everyone
goes to bed, that I will never get around to that vacuuming that needs
to be done and that I will very possibly not even leave the house or
put on shoes. But I also know that I will witness a developmental leap
in speech or motor skills, I’ll receive innumerable hugs and kisses,
both requested and offered, and I will discover yet another amazing
skill that I didn’t know I possessed, such as fixing matchbox cars
or leaping over hurdles Bionic Woman-style to reach a 2 year old attempting
to push his little brother down the stairs (all in good fun of course).
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