The weekend had the potential to be pretty awful. In a lot of ways it was. The hubs was gone on Saturday night until midnight, chaperoning a dance at his school. He was gone again Sunday morning, back at school for another function. He didn't return home until dinnertime. This, of course, left me alone with the three kids for most of the weekend, a time I look forward to with a ridiculous amount on anticipation starting each week about Tuesday, because it means two full days of help wrangling babies.
Isabella has a cold, which means she's more needy and whiny and tantrumy than she usually is. Luci the Insomniac would not settle down on Saturday night, and didn't get to sleep until 10pm. That meant my hopes for a peaceful night with my friend who came over to help me get the kids to bed never happened. And predictably, the babies were up all night on Saturday, which meant no sleep for me. On Sunday, Luci staged another sleeping strike and cried most of the day.
In a lot of ways, the weekend sucked. Yet it wasn't entirely awful. I'm a glass-half-empty person. Always have been. Always will be. But if being the mother to three children under the age of 2.5, two of whom are colicky, pre-term infants, and the other is a headstrong toddler whose main goal these days is to turn every hair on my head gray before my 33rd birthday next month, it's that I have to find happiness in the small stuff.
I didn't get a night of peace and quiet or more than 4 hours of total sleep on Saturday. I had virtually no time to do anything other than wipe butts and feed kids for most of the weekend.
What I did get was two hours in a one-baby household on Saturday morning. The hubs took Isabella and Luci to my grandma's, and left me with Nicholas, who in the last month has swapped personalities with Luci and is now "the good twin." And he slept the entire time they were gone. I worked uninterrupted for the first time since the twins were born. I enjoyed two cups of decaf hazelnut coffee in my new Keurig. I devoured the silence in my house, and it was divine.
What I did get was a 20-minute dinner on Saturday with Isabella and the hubs in which neither of the twins was crying. Every single night during dinner, at least one of the twins is crying. I either eat standing up while bouncing a baby in the Bjorn, or I don't eat at all because I'm trying to calm one or both of them down. Or I'm nursing them. But on this night, they were both calm and peaceful and smiling away in their bouncy seats during dinner. This has never happened before.
What I did get is my best friend giving up her Saturday evening to spend it in the International House of Chaos. She rocked Nicholas to sleep while I was upstairs getting Isabella to bed, which meant that when I made my way downstairs, I had only one baby to deal with.
What I did get was a husband who brought me home two pieces of cake left over from Saturday night's dance. This cake was made by the same woman who made each of Isabella's birthday cakes, and is, by far, the best cake I've ever had. Instead of waiting to eat a piece at a more reasonable hour, I had cake for breakfast yesterday morning, surreptitiously, while Isabella was watching Caillou, so I wouldn't have to share. Definitely not a part of the "trying-to-shed-the-baby-weight diet," but oh-so-good.
Sometimes when the planets align and the twins are sleeping at the same time, I let Isabella watch an extra episode of Caillou or Clifford so I can have a few more minutes to catch up on emails or read the morning paper. Sometimes I stop at Starbucks after my highly anticipated solo weekly grocery run and sit in my car in the parking lot, drinking my coffee in silence. Sometimes on the rare occasion when the twins and Isabella are still asleep in the early mornings and the night shift with the twins wasn't particularly horrible, I'll get up with the hubs and once he leaves for work, I'll sit in the absolute darkness and quiet of my living room and snuggle with my cats before the house is filled with a cacophony of noise that doesn't end until the last kid is asleep for the night, many, many hours later.
These days, it's the smallest of life's pleasures that deliver the greatest happiness. Cake for breakfast every day might not be such a bad idea.
Isabella has a cold, which means she's more needy and whiny and tantrumy than she usually is. Luci the Insomniac would not settle down on Saturday night, and didn't get to sleep until 10pm. That meant my hopes for a peaceful night with my friend who came over to help me get the kids to bed never happened. And predictably, the babies were up all night on Saturday, which meant no sleep for me. On Sunday, Luci staged another sleeping strike and cried most of the day.
In a lot of ways, the weekend sucked. Yet it wasn't entirely awful. I'm a glass-half-empty person. Always have been. Always will be. But if being the mother to three children under the age of 2.5, two of whom are colicky, pre-term infants, and the other is a headstrong toddler whose main goal these days is to turn every hair on my head gray before my 33rd birthday next month, it's that I have to find happiness in the small stuff.
I didn't get a night of peace and quiet or more than 4 hours of total sleep on Saturday. I had virtually no time to do anything other than wipe butts and feed kids for most of the weekend.
What I did get was two hours in a one-baby household on Saturday morning. The hubs took Isabella and Luci to my grandma's, and left me with Nicholas, who in the last month has swapped personalities with Luci and is now "the good twin." And he slept the entire time they were gone. I worked uninterrupted for the first time since the twins were born. I enjoyed two cups of decaf hazelnut coffee in my new Keurig. I devoured the silence in my house, and it was divine.
What I did get was a 20-minute dinner on Saturday with Isabella and the hubs in which neither of the twins was crying. Every single night during dinner, at least one of the twins is crying. I either eat standing up while bouncing a baby in the Bjorn, or I don't eat at all because I'm trying to calm one or both of them down. Or I'm nursing them. But on this night, they were both calm and peaceful and smiling away in their bouncy seats during dinner. This has never happened before.
What I did get is my best friend giving up her Saturday evening to spend it in the International House of Chaos. She rocked Nicholas to sleep while I was upstairs getting Isabella to bed, which meant that when I made my way downstairs, I had only one baby to deal with.
What I did get was a husband who brought me home two pieces of cake left over from Saturday night's dance. This cake was made by the same woman who made each of Isabella's birthday cakes, and is, by far, the best cake I've ever had. Instead of waiting to eat a piece at a more reasonable hour, I had cake for breakfast yesterday morning, surreptitiously, while Isabella was watching Caillou, so I wouldn't have to share. Definitely not a part of the "trying-to-shed-the-baby-weight diet," but oh-so-good.
Sometimes when the planets align and the twins are sleeping at the same time, I let Isabella watch an extra episode of Caillou or Clifford so I can have a few more minutes to catch up on emails or read the morning paper. Sometimes I stop at Starbucks after my highly anticipated solo weekly grocery run and sit in my car in the parking lot, drinking my coffee in silence. Sometimes on the rare occasion when the twins and Isabella are still asleep in the early mornings and the night shift with the twins wasn't particularly horrible, I'll get up with the hubs and once he leaves for work, I'll sit in the absolute darkness and quiet of my living room and snuggle with my cats before the house is filled with a cacophony of noise that doesn't end until the last kid is asleep for the night, many, many hours later.
These days, it's the smallest of life's pleasures that deliver the greatest happiness. Cake for breakfast every day might not be such a bad idea.
I've tried explaining to my husband before - that he should appreciate the blessed, blessed time that he gets to spend in his car, kid free, on his way to work. With his choice of either silence, radio, or cd player. How this time is freakin' awesome and I have rarely experienced more than once or twice in the last 3.5 years.
He doens't get it. I'm not sure guys get it, ever.
Oh boy - do I *get* this post.
Good on ya for finding the little things....it is what is going to save your sanity!
Great read, written so well....no post natal mommy-isms anywhere!!
It sounds as though you are slowly but surely coming through the mayhem that has been the twins' infancies...
NEXT time you decide to have twins, maybe you should do it in the springtime, eh? Just think of the walks with the kids and sitting on the porch you could do.
BETTER PLANNING Kristi. I mean, geesh. Come ON.
I completely hear you. I'm glad you had your moments this weekend. I hope those moments get closer and closer togther.
Then that's what I wish for you!
Amen sista. Cake for breakfast ... grace in small things, right?
ohh... i think i am going to go make me some cake now lol... sugar free... but still cake... YUMMY!
Great Post Kristi! Very Glass-half-full!!
I'm also a dinner-eater-with-a-baby-bjorn-strapped-to-my-front, but I manage to position myself on a giant gym ball and bounce. Takes a bit of co-ordination to bring a fork to my mouth, bounce, and not stab myself! I celebrate the meals I get to eat with 2 utensils!
You deserve cake for breakfast and coffee in your car after your weekly shopping. And more! I'm glad some good things happened for you this weekend despite your husband's schedule.