When we first had the twins, the first few months were uhm…
long. No sleep. No free time. No real sanity. It’s hard to have one tiny little
baby… but two? Yup, double everything. Everyone said it would get easier, but
that can be impossible to internalize when you are so very sleep deprived. One
of the reasons I adore being part of a moms of multiples group is that I had
evidence to keep me going. These moms had time to shower and they had twins.
Maybe I would too someday. One can always hope.
We just got back from vacation with the kids. Took them to
Florida for 10 days. Have I mentioned that I LOVE vacations? While taking care of kids still involves a
certain amount of housework and effort, it’s nothing like being at home. That
long term house project that’s hanging precariously over your head. Nope, it
won’t fit in the suitcase so it will just have to wait. Combine that with my
husband around all day, reducing the ratio to 1:1. Nice! Let’s go to the beach
instead. Yay!
The motto for our Florida vacations, undoubtedly, is the
following. “Sandcastles and pool, here we come.” And we lived up to our motto,
full force. Sandcastles we did build. Every day. Ok, MOST days. We’d return
from the beach and spend the afternoon at the pool, splashing. It was awesome. Some days we even dove back headfirst
into the sand after lunch at the local restaurant, so that we could soak in
just a little more rejuvenating sun. Why
not, right? We were on vacation. And the weather was great.
We might have been tempted to go back to the apartment for a
nap time if nap seemed like even a remote possibility. Most days, however, it
wasn’t. So what the hell…Let’s party all day and go to sleep early. OK, maybe
not go to sleep early. But I can dream. Right?
While on the beach, however, a realization came to me. We
have come a long way, baby.
I posted the blog below
almost 2 years ago, in Florida. I remembered posting it, but I didn’t remember
the specifics of what I had written, so I looked it up. This is an excerpt of what I found.
“While vacationing in
Florida with my husband and 2 year old twins, we decided to explore the local
beach. Whenever I daydream about the beach, I must forget that I have kids now
because my daydreams always seem to include the crashing of the waves, the
wondrous sensation of the warm sun on my back and face and the sands of time
slipping between my toes. These moments of delirium never include the constant
reminder to not throw sand, the struggle that is the application of sunscreen
onto two children who seem to have lost all their bone rigidity or the wailing
when said children are placed under the outside shower to be cleaned off for
the ride home. Oh, and let’s not forget my daughter’s compulsion for
cleanliness, aptly demonstrated by her decisive statement of “dirty beach” as
the sand covered her little legs on the first few visits of the vacation.
That said, it all went
pretty well considering the reality. We arrived at the beach and after much
patient coaxing, managed to convince my daughter that sand was not created by
Satan himself. My son had already covered himself in the devilish substance and
was having a great time picking up as much as possible. Yes, throwing it too”.
And I began to think about THEN and NOW…
THEN: The beach totally lacked serenity. More work than
enjoyment. Flying sand galore. “Why did we come to the beach again, honey?”
NOW: My kids LOVE the
beach, and we are able to enjoy it again. We arrive, and they run for the sand.
We dump out the toys and they dive for them. Begin digging instantly. They
cover themselves in sand from head to toe gleefully. They aren’t into the
waves, but they are getting braver. It’s
wonderfully fun, and pretty relaxing by family standards.
THEN: Naps were so essential to our functioning that we were
controlled by them.
NOW: We have the capacity to spend all day out, as long as
we pack adequate snacks and account for meal times. And the kids hold up
beautifully.
THEN: The pool was, uhm… let’s call it “volumous”. Being
outnumbered by your toddlers on a playground is a surmountable problem. Being
outnumbered by your toddlers at a pool. Uhm, not so much. Hence, no real water
comfort for the kiddos. The scene they caused was actually embarrassing.
NOW: The pool is dreamy. My son adores swimming and can stay
afloat without any assistance (from a person or flotation device). My daughter
enjoyed being by the pool and by the completion of the week wanted the “baby
puffin” to swim with the “mommy puffin” gleefully.
Moments like this, where I take stock of our progress, give
me enormous comfort. They remind me that
my current struggles, however valid, will not last forever. They remind me to
keep trying and to keep teaching my kids what I need them to know. They will
get it eventually. Even if it doesn’t feel
so at the current moment.
