At church yesterday, even though I'd been involved in worship planning during the week before, somehow I was taken by surprise when we started singing "Stronger." It was one of those moments that takes you back in time so instantly, you don't even have time to catch yourself.
Two years ago, I was sitting in a hospital room. In fact, I'd been sitting in a hospital room for six weeks.
I was scared, and sick of my four walls and window (even though we'd brought pretty much an entire house's worth of stuff to make it homey and entertain me), sick of the giant flag flying over the La Quinta that was my only view, being diagnosed seemingly every day with some new multiple-pregnancy complication, and just praying we could all hold out a little longer.
The first day I'd been admitted, my mom and sister made me a "Twin Playlist" on my phone, and they'd been adding to it throughout the six weeks. I listened to it constantly on repeat, and the song that kept repeating in my head at night, when I was supposed to be trying to sleep, was always "Stronger."
So when we started singing it in the service, I was in two places: two times. I was then, there, scared to hope and so hopeful, and I was here, now, with my two hoped-for, prayed-for, nearly-2-year-old munchkins getting up to every kind of shenanigans and making every moment an adventure.
If there's one burden I've wished I could bear for my sisters, it's infertility. If I had to go through it, it should only have been fair that they wouldn't - why should it happen to more than one of us? Infertility (as the link above explains so well) is a peculiar, particular kind of grief, overwhelming and recurring, nearly impossible to ever really process. Sharing that grief can alleviate it a little, and can also draw everyone suffering even further down. Sharing that grief with a sister means that each is grieving their own child... and their nieces and nephews who have been not-to-be. Over the years, my sister has grieved with me and for me, and I with her and for her.
When my kids came along, they were (and are) my greatest joy, and I know my sisters take every joy in them as well, but we all grieved that they wouldn't have same-age cousins to grow up with. As we experienced growing up, close cousins are something incredible - they're siblings, but siblings who aren't all up in your business all the time - how awesome is that?
When my kids were 9 months old, Little Man came into our lives. He was the sweetest baby, and we all loved him, and my kids loved having a cousin, but he wasn't Forever. Shortly before he went back to his family, Avery came along. He was scared and confused, and it took a while for all of us to get to know each other, but when we went to Colorado over Christmas, it happened.
They were a gang. They were Cousins. They were nearly inseparable, and got up to all kinds of shenanigans as a threesome. My kids suddenly picked up a TON of new words on that trip, and all three of them just chattered nonstop to each other all the time, swapped preferred breakfast items, had impromptu raves and truck races in the hallway. They were a unit, different but just as cohesive as The Twins can be.
Cousins at MY cousin's wedding
Two days ago, Avery became ours. Ok, he became Abbey and Dane's, but he became ours, too. He's officially Family, he's officially a Forever Cousin, and he's already enriched our lives more than I can say.
You know one of my favorite things about watching my kids grow up...
The minute a baby is born, it starts: He has his daddy's eyes! She has her grandma's nose! His head is shaped just like great-uncle Bob's!
As they grow, those features grow too, and may change, or may deepen in resemblance. But as they get older, their features really grow to look like... themselves. As we get to know them, they may still have mommy's mouth or daddy's hair, but increasingly, their features are their own, unimaginable in that particular combination on anyone else.
What I've started seeing, though, is that in their utterly unique personalities, they also have funny little habits that they've picked up/inherited from us. Eleanor squeaks "Oh my goodness!" or even "Goodness gracious!" with perfect inflection when something surprising happens, which she's picked up from... any number of people, actually. Steven plays with sounds like I do - he'll pick up a phrase and repeat it, then repeat it again with different consonant sounds beginning the words, then again with another consonant. He'll hum a song with nonsense syllables... num num num num num num num, ba ba ba ba ba ba ba, dee dee dee dee dee dee dee, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, num num num num num num num, la la la la la la la (Twinkle Twinkle/ABCs, if you're curious).
Oh, and? He loses his mind over Aunt Suzy's buttercream.
I meant to write about Christmas. I really did. I meant to write about our awesome trip to Colorado after Christmas. I think I even have a draft saved where I started, and it just didn't get finished. But I will! Maybe even right here, after all.
Clever girl
What happened? Well, I started a new job, which is amazing, but involved some big changes for us. I have to wear pants to work, and the kids are now going to Mothers Day Out three days a week, and staying with their grandmas one day a week (this morning when I dropped them off, Eleanor jumped into my mom's arms and waved insistently, "Bye mom! BYE MOM!" Okay, okay, I can take a hint...), and they're just thriving. It took Steven a few days to adjust to being dropped off at MDO, but it didn't take long before they'd both run in to their favorite toys and not look back. Most days, when I get there to pick them up, they're running around holding hands. They're learning SO much, and they're so bright - their teachers say Eleanor picks up everything they say and parrots it back, while Steven listens silently all day long, until it's time for naps, and then he sits with his head against the side of the crib and talks. And talks. And sings. And talks. Everything they've taught them, all day, all week, comes pouring out while all the other kids are (or are supposed to be) asleep.
Helping me organize my garage sale pile
So, Christmas. Was pretty amazing this year. We had a pretty low-key day with family, and the kids had a great time baking with grandma:
And checking out Christmas cards:
And generally spending time with our family. The next day, we embarked on our epic adventure: the kids' first vacation! We packed a huge van with two car seats, two toddlers, 7 adults, and about a ton of luggage, and drove to the YMCA of the Rockies. It snowed the first night we were there, and we woke up to this wonderland:
We all had a great time playing in the pristine snow.
We stayed in a cozy cabin, and the kids (for some reason) really loved playing in the hallway where the bedrooms were. I think because it went right off the living room/kitchen, so we could always see them, but they could feel like it was their own little space. They'd race cars down it, and have little dance parties where they flipped the lights on and off (their favorite feature of the cabin: low light switches), and generally work themselves into hysterical laughter every 3 minutes or so. My mom made all 3 kids snuggly fleece sleep sacks, and they love them - they call them their "cozies" and still beg for them every night now that we're home.
We were only there a few days, but of course we had some opportunities to walk around downtown Estes and eat great food.
And of course there was just a tiny bit of goofiness (...um, all the time. The whole trip. Pretty much every minute.):
We didn't want to leave, but we were happy to get home. Although heaven help us if Steven notices we have a fireplace at home too - we might have to start using it.
Bonus frog song that I get to hear all the way to work and all the way home now (sorry, my voice is really loud):
I've had a couple of funny conversations come up lately.
The other day, while having dinner with a friend I hadn't seen in much too long, she asked me what has surprised me most about having twins.
My answer? Nothing, honestly. I don't know anything different. There was a family sitting at a table near us, and they were leaving as we were having this conversation. I pointed out the child with them, who was about the age of my kids, and told her that my "normal" is so normal to me that I'd had a nagging feeling all evening of, "where's the other one?" When they got up from the table and picked up the little boy to leave, I thought, "they're forgetting one!" My brain just works in twos now. As a great twin-book we got at a baby shower says, it's double-everything. Double diapers, double pajamas, double hugs, double cheese and macaroni. Or halves - I can't just make one lunch (as I discovered the other day when only taking one kid to Mothers Day Out) - then what would I do with the other half of the sandwich, the apple, the fig bar?
Mothers Day Out has been a great thing for them, and I'm so glad it's worked out that way. It took Steven a few days to adjust, but now I have to drag him out while he struggles to go give one more kiss, one more hug, one more "HI!!!" to a teacher next door. Half the time, when I get there to pick them up, they're holding hands and racing around the room - apparently they do that a lot. This never happens at home... I think they appreciate each other that much more when there are other kids around.
Or when they're cooped up inside for days because of ice.
The other conversation came up when I was searching old chats for our lawn guy's phone number (exciting, I know) - I was scanning through a chat that came up in the search when I saw from my husband, "How are you feeling today? Pregnant? Not pregnant? Normal?" I answered, "Normal, I guess." And his reply? "Well, I guess we'll know for sure tomorrow."
We had NO idea that day that "tomorrow" our normal would change completely. We'd waited and waited for so long, we honestly didn't even dare to hope. That chat sent me down the rabbit hole of other chats about what we thought our life would be like once they came, and the day they were born, and the day after (we chat a lot) - bittersweet conversations about the first set of pictures he took in the delivery room, where we realized I hadn't actually ever seen either of my babies naked; more bittersweet conversations about tests being run and tubes being pulled; sweeter conversations about moving into the Special Care nursery where we'd be able to stay with them all the time. I had NO idea, no way of knowing, that this...
Where does one even start with a post about life with 19-month-olds? There's just so much going on, every minute, I don't even know where to begin documenting it.
They're into everything, all the time. They want to do everything, all the time (Steven's favorite phrase right now: "Do dat! Do dat!") They want to read all the books, play all the games, chase the dog, color all the paper, swing in the swing, eat all the snacks, drink up everything life has to give them.
This is a pretty typical pre-bedtime Eleanor - get into monkey pajamas and tiara, and go around giving mommy and daddy kisses (well, the kisses were new tonight, and amazingly sweet and fun) while experimenting with echoing siren sounds in a cup.
We've also gotten set up this week with some basic crafts - they've been enjoying coloring with crayons for a while now, so I thought it would be fun to introduce play-doh, pipe cleaners, and a few other things. It turns out play-doh is Steven's new favorite thing. He brings me the tub every chance he gets, and loves to see how he can change its shape and put it in different containers.
His sense of adventure cracks me up. Once he sets his mind to something, nothing's going to stand in his way. He has a bizarre fascination with my big straw cup, and one day when it was on my desk, I turned my back for just a minute, and turned back to find this little scene. The boy is determined!
