Endurance: the Vacation – Pilot Episode

Premise: 

Think Survivor + Amazing Race + Nanny 911 Teams compete to last for 14 days on “vacation” with their family.  Goal?  Survival.

Contestants:  

Teams of families will be made up of two adults and three kids under three.  Kids can be triplets, twins and a sibling, or any other combination as long as they’re all under three years old.

Rules: 

1. You must fly at least five hours minimum to get to your destination.
2. You have to bring everything you’ll need for the babies; water, food for adults and any toddlers will be available.
3. Locales will be 1 hour from any inhabited town and unless emergency strikes, you cannot go for resupplies.
4. You cannot bring any help, in the form of nannies, relatives, friends, or willing strangers for the duration.
5. You will get daily “Life” cards that can either help or hinder you.
6. For those who survive, there will be a significant reward at the end.

Pilot:

The pilot episode follows one family who flew from their home in Amman, Jordan to Salalah, Oman for their 14-day vacation.  Participants were Mom, Dad, two-and-a-half year old toddler, and seven-month-old twiblings.

DAY 1

Life card: You could only get flights that depart at two in the morning; your toddler’s excited mania reaches new heights before you even board the plane.  Toddler refuses to sleep; and decides she hates the seatbelt and physically fights you putting it on.  You arrive in Muscat, Oman after a four-hour flight and your double snap-n-go stroller, which you gate checked, has been “helpfully” taken to baggage claim.  You lug carry-ons, 25 pounds of twiblings, times two, and one quickly melting down toddler to the baggage carousel area.

Life card:  After two flights, and one hour-long bus ride (during which your toddler finally collapses into sleep), you arrive at the hotel – a mere 14 hours after you departed home.  Your double adjoining rooms are ready and complete with two pack-n-plays and you quickly unpack the third you brought with you.  In addition, you proceed to unpack 350 diapers, 500 wipes, wipe container, a case of formula, two changing pads, a second double stroller, 12 sunhats in varying sizes, laundry detergent, dish detergent, toddler toys, baby toys, water toys, floaties for the toddler, 11 bottles of SPF in varying stages of use, twib 1 clothes, twib 2 clothes, toddler clothes, Mommy and Daddy clothes and seven pairs of shoes.  Let the fun begin!

DAY 2

Life card:  Toddler has a meltdown when she learns you failed to pack her Pooh reward stickers, and merely brought the ladybugs, cupcakes, cats, Mickey Mouse, Sesame Street, and fruit and vegetable ones.

DAY 3

Life card:  Twibling 2 screams for hours at night due to constipation.  After a quick online check, you proceed with lots of tummy massage and “bicycling” his legs for the next two hours.

DAY 4

Life card:  Toddler regresses to pre-potty-trained days and for the first time in her life, pees randomly on the floor in front of you, adding a new layer of fun and suspense to your days.

DAY 5

Life card:  You take toddler to breakfast in her sundress and only notice when Daddy lifts her up to put her in the booster seat that she has no panties on.

Life card:  You have lengthy "discussions" with several other vacationing families about babies, twins, and the beauty of Oman; you later ask your husband what language they were speaking and he replies, "I have no idea."

DAY 6

Life card:  Sitting at dinner at the hotel in your casual t-shirts and shorts with three kids in varying stages of need, surrounded by folks dressed up in their finest going-out-to-the-theater looks, you have flashes of “Jed and Bertha,” the country cousins visiting the city slickers and being banished to the backyard.  On top of that, you haven’t been able to open your brand new deodorant since you arrived.

DAY 7

Life card:  Daddy gets a break from kids and gets to take his first scuba diving lesson.  First thing he learns, if the water’s cold enough, you’ll lose your wedding band.  Lesson learned.

DAY 8

Life card:  Congratulations, you all get a break!!  Friends arrive to humor and entertain you (but not care for the kids, so don’t try).  Thank God for friends!

DAY 9

Life card:  Mommy gets a massage at the hotel spa-aaaahh.

Life card:  Twibling 1 cuts her second tooth; but you brought pain meds and even found them!

DAY 10

Life card:  Toddler refuses to eat any of her normal foods, resorts to white bread, butter, French fries and “pop-pop” (ketchup) for days – kitchen staff notices and by now they just automatically bring her a large bowl of French fries and gobs of pop-pop for dinner (you’re both horrified and grateful at the same time).

DAY 11

Life card:  Daddy goes out for second scuba trip while you meet up with friends for breakfast and proceed to hold fussing baby, while rocking stroller with foot to calm second fussing baby, then pass off babies when toddler announces she has to pee (three times).  You don’t eat more than a muffin for breakfast.

Life card:  On an almost nightly basis, you have been able to get all the kids in bed and asleep by 9pm.  You read your first book in over a year.

DAY 12

Life card:  Pushing the twibs in their stroller as the sun sets in a beautiful array of colors over the Arabian Sea you hear carried over the quiet dusk, “Jacuzzi! Jacuzzi! Jacuzzi!”  Like everyone else, you pretend to ignore it and regret ever showing her the damn thing ten days earlier and just hope that Daddy can get her into the Jacuzzi before the full meltdown occurs.

DAY 13

Life card:  You meet up with your friends for all three meals, wearing the same shirt that’s covered in baby spit-up, knowing they won’t point it out nor will they laugh out loud (unless you do first).

Life card:  For your last night, you take a break and make a list of things to bring “next time” which includes triple the number of toddler panties, triple the number of onesies, and a whole pile of Pooh stickers.

DAY 14

Life card:  You make it to your first flight of the day only to discover that the plane has two seats on either side, leaving you to quickly decide whether the toddler sits next to the nice older Omani gentleman, or you do.  Choosing option #3, you whip out your Bjorn, strap it on, and toss in twib2, passing the car seat to the flight attendant for a last-minute gate-check (hoping it’ll be there when you land).  Daddy opts to sit next to the toddler, while you get the twibs.  Following your friend’s advice, you hand over the remaining reward stickers and tell Daddy to entertain the toddler with them for the flight.  Ten minutes later Daddy announces he’s out of stickers and the plane hasn’t even closed its doors.  For the rest of the hour-long flight to Muscat, your toddler becomes the kid others speak of in horror; complete with screaming, sobbing, wrestling, begging (on the part of Daddy) and attempted cajoling.  For the last 20 minutes, you switch places and are able to quell the tantrums until you land and do your best to avoid eye contact with all the other passengers.

Life card:  As a parting gift, your toddler sleeps peacefully on the last flight home, and so does twib1; twib2 does, too (for about 15 minutes).

Reward card:  Congratulations!  You’ve managed to survive your family vacation and return home with the same number of kids you left with.  Your reward?  Peace of mind that you can handle this.  Happy vacationing!

Mommies, Webster & Rotten Apples

Don’t you love those out-of-body, completely surreal, experiences?  The types that come out of the blue and there’s no way in hell you could prepare for them because, well, they're just so insane?   Yeah, me neither. Mine occurred when I recently joined an online families-with-twins group.  I figured it might be helpful as twin-issues arose with my twiblings and any and all resources, support, and advice, would be sought.  As is customary, once I was allowed into the group, I succinctly introduced myself and my family and tried to explain my situation in the simplest terms and without need of a flow chart.  I used terms like “twiblings” and “born 40 hours apart” and “de facto twins” and kept it to about four sentences.

As is also customary in these groups, I then started to get a few “Welcome” and “great story” comments from other members.  All was fine and dandy until I got the one that said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but…” -- gotta love folks who state their intentions up front -- “… why are you here?  Don’t you know this is for twins?  The last I checked the definition for twins didn’t include babies born 40 hours apart.”

Gobsmacked.  Completely speechless (if one can be speechless in text).  I’m not saying she’s incorrect, technically, but I never claimed to have biological twins and she was just so, well, to use her words, rude.  I felt like my hand had been smacked while reaching for the cookies, “Those aren’t for you.  They’re for REAL twin moms.”

What was the big deal?  She was acting as if I was threatening her way of life.  Were there twin secrets she didn’t want revealed to an “outsider”?  Because my children weren’t twins-by-birth and definition, does that mean I can’t know about tips to get two 8-month-olds to eat their peas?  Was there a four-hand-handshake I’d ruin because of biological differences?  Are there special coupons for biological twins that she feared I’d try to benefit from?

I didn’t even have time to process an answer before they started flooding in from other members.  For the next ninety minutes I sat there like a fly on the wall, watching as complete strangers argued over the definition of “twins,” and whether I was actually a “twin mommy.”  Only two women were against my membership (out of almost 3,000 members), and hundreds of others were outwardly (and quite vocally) supportive of me.

But if that wasn’t weird enough, then a few side remarks were made (by the same negative Nellys) asking whether the group administrators were actually verifying whether members had twins or not and whether there were any twin groups out there that kept strictly to the definition of “twins” (to keep rabble like me out, implication received).

The irony of all this, is that I had just had two days of fabulous mommy meet-ups.  I had gone to a new “Mums & babies” group where I met wonderful women from all over (Korea, Australia, UK, Malaysia, USA, etc.).  Then I’d had coffee one morning with two moms who also send their toddlers to the nursery school we do (we three are the only Americans there, everyone else is Jordanian).  And I’d also met three other moms via swaps and sales, one of whom was pregnant with her fifth child and still had a smile on her face and one of whom had just gotten back from vacation in Prague where she’d offered to buy me some natural pain gel for my teething toddler.  These women were amazing and kind and helpful and no one once questioned my legitimacy as a mom toting around two 14-week-old babies.  No one ever said, “Are they twins?  Oh wait, they’re obviously not, so you better make sure you’re not claiming to be a ‘twin mom’.”  I was practically on a high from meeting so many different and extraordinary mommies.

Then I was hit in the face with this online reality-show-like-cat-fight.  After about the 170^th thumbs up of support I got, I suddenly got a pop-up message saying my profile message had been deleted and I was no longer a member of the group.  And I hadn’t thought my mouth could gape any wider.  I’d been cast out!

I waited for a few minutes to see if this was all just some sort of wacky online hazing practice, but apparently it wasn’t.  I went from being gobsmacked to completely flabbergasted.  Frankly I was too stunned at the lunacy of the last 120 minutes of my life (and a tad embarrassed I’d let it rob me of those precious hours) to react at all.  But then I suddenly got some private messages from members of the group telling me they were quitting the group if I wasn’t allowed back in.  Without lifting a finger, was I now inadvertently heading up a coup?  I barely had the energy to brush my hair, let alone wage a revolution.

All I’d been looking for was help from other mommies and daddies, to questions like, “Do I need to time the amount each twib gets held, or can I live with one yelling, ‘You held her longer, didn’t you?’ when they’re older?”  Or, “Will my son suffer irreparable harm if I swaddle him in my daughter’s pink swaddle with the bows because that’s all that’s clean?”  Or even, “Is it wrong of me to buy matching plastic tubs in the hardware store in which to put my twibs when we’re in the garden?” Vital questions to a sleep-deprived mom.

Then, to keep the down-the-rabbit-hole feeling going, twenty minutes later I received two messages from the administrators of the group apologizing profusely; saying it had been a knee-jerk reaction to a rather volatile and smoldering situation and they begged me to re-join.  I hesitated for a minute, but prior to the stink of two bad apples, I had liked what I’d read on the group, so I re-joined and was admitted immediately.

This time the administrator personally welcomed me back, and added, “Any bullying or questioning of her as a mom will not be tolerated.”  This then spurred over a hundred messages of support, and a handful of, “What happened?  What did I miss?”  But not a peep from rotten apple 1 or 2, thank goodness.  I was told I could resend my intro that they’d deleted, but I opted not to.  I wasn’t going to let the nay-sayers prevent me from joining, but I also wasn’t going to give them another opportunity to whip out Websters and get everyone’s fur flying again.

But it made me think.  Are definitions always so rigid?  To these two moms, a “twin mom” was a mom who had babies born within minutes of each other.  They apparently weren’t adverse to someone adopting biological twins (several moms pointed this out); but in their narrow definition, there was no room beyond these few minutes.

But then would they accept foster moms of twins?  What about grandparents in the role as mom of twins?  What about a gay couple who adopted twins?  What about unofficial familial adoptions, where an aunt or sister is raising someone else’s twins?  What about an adoption of two non-biological children, who were born within the allotted minutes (yes, it sounds ludicrous to me, too)?  What if I’d just planned my pregnancy better and had given birth 40 hours earlier so the twibs would have been born within minutes of each other?  Would this have been acceptable under their inflexible interpretation?

My overall feelings were annoyance and exhaustion (like I needed any more of either).  Yes, this was a private group who could post whatever “No shirt, no shoes, no service” type requirements they wanted.  But the administrators had now, twice, permitted me to join.  And regardless of Webster’s thoughts on the matter, or two little bad apples’ mealy thoughts, raising children is an enormously difficult task, especially if you want to raise kind, intelligent, curious, compassionate, independent and sympathetic children.  So seeking help or advice or sharing tips should be something we are all open to, regardless of where and whom they come from; I know I am!

After being readmitted to the group, I thought it best to take a break for a little while and let the embers die down before I ventured back down the rabbit hole again.  But until then, I will continue to venture forth in my new life as a non-twin, but twibling (and “three under three”), mom and will hold my head as high as the chronic exhaustion will allow.  I will seek out kind, brilliant, creative and fun moms with whom to travel on this crazy journey called motherhood.  And maybe along the way we can find some recipes for rotten apple pie; wouldn’t want them to feel unwanted, right?

My Twibling Survival Guide (So Far)

I cannot tell you the number of people who say to me, “I could never have twins!  I don’t know how you do it?”  Well, aside from being a ridiculous statement (as parents we do what needs to be done, whatever it is, right?), I can tell you quite simply how I do it:  I have help; lots of it. From our full-time nanny/housekeeper (who’s salary negates the need for my daily therapy session); to my amazing husband; to my girlfriends who will listen to my babblings, deal with my memory-lapses (“What was I saying?”), bring my family dinner, and allow me to have a 2-minute conversation that takes 35 minutes due to all the interruptions; and to my parents and in-laws, who check in periodically to make sure we’re all alive and relatively sane.

But in addition to our “village”, there are also some tips I’m picking up along the way and holding on to for dear life.

1.  Pre-organization.  Taking the time to pre-organize things helps tremendously

Before heading off to bed, we prep the bottles so at a 2am feeding we’re not relying on our ability to count formula scoops.

And when I get home from an outing of any kind, I immediately re-supply the diaper backpack so it’s ready to go the next time.  Getting “three under three” out of the house is proving to be a mammoth task that I am bound and determined to get done in less than an hour… before they’re “three under fifteen”.

I divided all the twib clothes into age groups and gender piles and lovingly crammed them into grocery bags on which I wrote “Girl 9mos” or “Boy 12mos” so I could more easily grab what I needed when whomever moved into the next size range.

2.  Wait a Second, and Second-hand Means Second-chance.  First off, I did not race out and buy doubles of everything.  We bought a second crib and a second car seat, but everything else I held off on.  Dropping hundreds of dollars on double swings, double bouncy chairs, double jumperoos, etc. when you could very well have one twib who decidedly hates the swing or the bouncy, would be a significant waste.  After a few months, getting to know their preferences, I then sought out folks selling their baby gear and I bought things second-hand.  This also allowed me to buy some higher-end stuff that I otherwise might not have bought brand new.

3.  Diaper Bags are Cute (for one kid).  When toting around gear for a toddler (water, snacks, clothing for accidents, books, wet bags, and a travel potty), and twibs (diapers, wipes, clothes for accidents, bottles, extra formula, water, burp cloths, pacifiers, wet bags, etc.), I have found great solace in the standard backpack.  Not only does is hold three to four times as much as your average diaper bag, but it also frees up your hands, which you always need more of.

4.  Delivery, Please!  I spent a few days logging diligently our current use of diapers and formula.  And if you’re curious, for two-month-old twibs we go through, on average, 115 diapers and two-and-a-half tubs of formula (or about 65 ounces) in one week.  So, with those numbers on hand, I then put diapers, formula and wipes on online “subscribe” programs that got me the best deal and will deliver them happily to my front door on a regular basis.  These needs will change over time, the diapers will get bigger and the formula use will increase, but then I’ll just modify the subscription and life will continue.  Ahhh.

In addition to the wonders of Amazon.com, Target.com, etc., I’ve also found a wonderful local option for fresh fruits and veggies and basic grocery needs. I place the order online and typically later that day a nice man arrives at my door with fresh figs, mushrooms, nectarines, prepped spinach and the occasional sugar, toilet paper or dishwashing soap (as the need arises).  Thank you, khodarji.com!

5. Gotta Second? Do Laundry.  No matter how many hand-me-downs we have, or how many burp cloths I think is “enough”, or how many swaddlers we’ve acquired, laundry is proving to be a daily task.  We can wait a day, but only once a week.  Then we need to catch up.  Clothing five people, all of whom may end up covered in spit-up in a 24-hour period, is no joke.

6.  Jot, Jot, Jot.  Because it doesn’t really matter whether you have one kid or three, in the beginning you’re damn tired and your brain is on pure autonomic mode and therefore not much use for anything else.  So I’m learning to carry a notebook and just write everything down; whether I’m in the doctor’s office doing two check-ups, or meeting a new nursery school teacher, or remember that we need more detergent, as soon as anything important comes up, I jot it down.  I’ve learned my retention period is about 47 seconds; squirrels have greater attention spans than I do currently.

7.  No one Died from Waiting Their Turn.  As difficult as it is to explain patience to a two-year-old, it’s a moot point when dealing with the two-month-olds.  So when both are screaming and I find myself trying to explain to one that, “Mommy’s coming, just wait your turn, sweetie,” I know that I’m just speaking out loud to comfort myself because no one else cares.

8.  Share the Love.  Whenever anyone asks me, “Can I hold one?”, I say, “Yes!” but not with such gusto as to raise concern.  I try to just smile and pass one over.

9.  Bend and Stretch.  Bottom line is be flexible.  Whether you’re parenting one, three, or twelve (oy vey!), flexibility is vital for maintaining sanity.  While I know my current survival guide is stopping me from curling up in a ball on the bathroom floor and eating my hair, I also know that the needs will change and therefore so will my “guide.”  So be it; bending and stretching, bending and stretching.

10.  Hold on to Hope.  And when I have those days where I long for a living room that isn’t a maze of duplo blocks, tea sets, potty books, baby rockers, burp cloths and baby swings, or 20 minutes of quiet solace (alone, damnit!), I try to just breathe deeply, then holler out to whomever is the loudest, “I’m coming!” and go address whatever need is pressing because I know that solace (and an adult living room) is coming.  They can’t be “three under three” forever.

A Day at the Circus – Life with 5-Week-Old Twiblings

Ever wonder what life with twins would be like?  Double the fun?  Double the pleasure?  Well, the following is a true-account – like anyone could possibly make this up – of a random 24-hour period of parenting five-week-old twiblings and their two-year-old big sister. Oh, and our definition of “twiblings” is one biological child and one adopted child, born within 2 days of each other.  And yes, you’re not the first to think we’re crazy.

***

The performers under this Big Top include the following:

Mommy – myself

Daddy – my co-Ringmaster and calmer half

Bean – two-year-old big sister

BG – baby girl

BB – baby boy

***

Scene opens on a dark living room lit only by the flickering light of the television re-playing “Big Bang Theory” seasons on a continuous loop.  See exhausted Mommy dozing on couch, awaking to sound of crying infant.

2:10am – feed BG, change diaper (twice)

2:45am – feed BB, change diaper

3:10am – Mommy resumes cat nap

4:45am – wake up Daddy for his shift

5:03am – wake up Daddy, again

5:08am – Mommy sleeps

8:10am – awoken by Bean screaming her wake-up bellows; attempt to return to sleep

8:18am – give up and get up; find Daddy in the kitchen with Bean in high chair, BB in bouncy chair, BG in baby bucket on floor (re-purposed laundry-type container from Ikea); move BB to rocker in living room and take BG from bucket and feed

8:30am – overhear Daddy trying to convince Bean to eat breakfast

8:33am – Chuckles the cat throws up on carpet

8:34am – Bean turns fussing into meltdown; Daddy gives up and releases her from the kitchen

8:36am – BB wakes up in rocker; lets us know he’s starving now; Daddy preps bottle; I rock BB with big toe while continuing to feed BG

8:37am – Bean announces she pooped (without going to the potty)

8:38am – Daddy takes Bean to the bathroom and cleans her up

8:39am – I put half-fed BG down in rocker; pick up screaming BB and change diaper

8:41am – Bean all clean now; Daddy feeds BB; I resume feeding BG

8:55am – Bean requests a tissue; refuses to walk by cat puke on carpet

8:56am – I finish feeding BG

9:01am – I bribe Bean into finishing breakfast or no pool today

9:02am – recall I never changed BG’s diaper; change diaper; put happy (and grateful) BG back in rocker

9:03am – resume feeding Bean; start to wash dishes and tidy kitchen; quickly abandon and clean up cat puke instead

9:10am – Bean requests Elmo on TV; request denied; screaming ensues; manage to redirect toddler angst with reading books on couch

9:20am – peace ensues; babies fed, Bean reading, Daddy reading news; I grab breakfast and check email

9:33am – take continued peaceful opportunity to set up sewing machine; need to sew two straight lines; bobbin empty at half-way point; review manual for how to re-thread bobbin

9:44am – request from Bean for dancing; abandon sewing; turn on current favorite, “Mamma Mia,” and commence day’s first Tire the Toddler Out (TTO) activity with living room dancing

9:55am – prep Bean for pool with potty-time, dress in swim diaper and swimsuit, prepare and pack snack and water for her, water for me, get in own swimsuit, get towels and change of clothes, load up stroller, walk to pool

10:10am – arrive at pool; “swim” with Bean (second TTO activity)

10:45am – get out of pool; change Bean into dry clothes; dry off self

10:55am – walk over to playground; let Bean play; chat with other mommies

11:10am – load up stroller with Bean, snacks, water, and make sure we have our towels, suits, etc.; walk back home

11:20am – return home; Daddy feeding BG; BB sleeping in rocker

11:22am – unpack stroller; head off to take quick shower

11:25am – Bean joins me in the bathroom to play with the shower curtain; hands me toys to play with; helps me put lotion on my legs

11:50am – Daddy changes BG diaper; I take over BG feeding; Daddy takes Bean to kitchen for lunch

11:57am – BB wakes up fussing; Daddy changes BB diaper and puts BB back in rocker; I continue to feed BG and rock BB with my foot; Bean has another meltdown in kitchen and refuses to eat; Daddy takes her to bedroom for a nap; refuses nap so returns to kitchen for lunch

12:04pm – BG falls asleep with bottle in mouth; I change BG diaper again; put her in rocker

12:11pm – BB and BG start stirring; I sing a few rounds of “Soft Kitty” while double rocking; they start to fall back asleep

12:27pm – BB and BG asleep; I overhear Daddy playing rhyming games with Bean in the kitchen; grab moment to skim next chapter in “Twin Sleep” book (suggests keeping sleep log, but the thought of adding a sleep log to our existing poop/feed log is too exhausting at this stage… will log later)

12:30pm – Daddy wipes down Bean; puts her down for a nap; does quick in clean up of kitchen and high-chair (in prep for next meal)

12:55pm – Mommy and Daddy doze in living room (cats, too)

2:15pm – wake up; check email; place order for third snot-sucker on Amazon (no sharing)

2:45pm – re-attempt to re-thread bobbin; re-review manual

2:50pm – BG wakens; Daddy diapers and feeds her

2:53pm – BB wakens; I abandon bobbin (again); get bottle and feed BB

3:10pm – change BB diaper (twice); BB resumes eating

3:35pm – put content BB in rocker; wake up Bean from nap

3:42pm – pick up non-content BB again

3:43pm – read “Ernie’s Big Mess” to Bean while consoling BB

3:47pm – re-read “Ernie’s Big Mess” to Bean (sigh)

4:03pm – put BB and BG down in rockers

4:04pm – read “Elmo’s Nursery Rhymes” with Bean (reading Cookie Monster’s Pat-a-Cake page, twice)

4:10pm – read “Barnyard Dance” while Bean acts it out

4:17pm – dig through Bean’s toy bin for missing Tigger figure (no dice)

4:23pm – BB and BG wake up; Daddy and I got to kitchen to prep bottles; ignore towering pile of dirty dishes

4:24pm – Bean announces she has to use the potty; abandon bottle and run to address potty needs

4:26pm – finish with potty needs; grab bottle from the kitchen; scoop up screaming BB and feed him

4:34pm – Bean hands me “Miss Spider’s Tea Party” to read; sits next to me and BB; asks for water; I ask her to wait a few minutes (difficult lesson to learn)

4:47pm – carry dozing BB to kitchen; get requested ice water for Bean

4:49pm – change BB diaper

4:53pm – swaddle BB and put down for nap

5:08pm – phone rings; Bean starts to squeeze Hug-Me-Elmo to get him to sing; I ask her to do something quiet while I’m on the phone and babies are trying to sleep (another hard lesson to learn)

5:15pm – finish with phone call; Daddy finishes feeding BG; changes her diaper; puts her down for a nap

5:16pm – fix Bean’s water bottle as it leaked all over me and the couch while I was on the phone

5:18pm – ask Bean to help me clear a foot path in the living room and put away piles of books, animals, a tea set, a tricycle, blocks, plastic people, and play food

5:45pm – I resume bobbin threading; re-thread needle; resume sewing straight lines

6:00pm – Daddy asks what I’m sewing (hearing me curse under my breath as I re-read the manual, yet again).  “I’m sewing a toddler pillow.  I’m just cutting an adult pillow in half and sewing them up again; really simple.  Plus it’s cheaper than spending $30 on a silly little toddler pillow.”

6:05pm – Daddy takes Bean outside in garden to play (third TTO activity); I could finish sewing or start on dishes; sewing wins

6:13pm – finish sewing my two “straight” lines; I check out my work, uneven, dropped stitches everywhere and my “straight” lines are actually zig-zag

6:17pm – put away sewing machine

6:24pm – complete Amazon purchase of new toddler pillow and case

6:54pm – stick my head outside to watch Bean watering our grass with the hose (under Daddy’s supervision)

7:15pm – Daddy and Bean come in; Daddy gives Bean a bath; Bean comes into the living room for her nightly toga-towel show

7:22pm – Daddy showers; I put Bean in her high chair; prepare little pizzas and listen for baby bellows; try to explain cooking time to Bean who wants her pizza NOW

7:37pm – BB wakes up; I prepare bottle; Daddy sits in kitchen with Bean waiting on pizzas

7:38pm – I feed BB

7:55pm – change BB diaper; resume feeding BB

8:15pm – finish feeding BB; put down in rocker; wake up BG for feeding

8:19pm – overhear Daddy giving Bean lessons on how to eat pizza, “No licking it!  It’s not ice cream!”  (Bean laughs)  “See, isn’t that better?  You are now an official pizza eater.”  (pause)  “Cheerios don’t belong on pizza!”  (Bean laughs, again)  “See, this is how a baby dinosaur eats pizza!”  (whatever works)

8:30pm – BB fussy; Daddy finishes with dinner and wipes down Bean; Daddy picks up BB; Bean goes and gets her baby doll

8:31pm – Bean announces she’s “nursing” and lifts up her shirt for her baby doll; then squinches her face and says, “Fussy,” and grabs the bottle instead (mimicry, indeed)

8:37pm – story time with Daddy, Bean and BB in the recliner; I change BG’s diaper

8:38pm – resume feeding BG

8:45pm – Louie the cat comes through screaming for dinner

8:47pm – finish feeding BG; put her down in the rocker; feed the cats

8:50pm – do quick pick-up of toys and books (more for safety than aesthetics)

8:56pm – take dozy BB from Daddy; Daddy takes Bean to go get ready for bed (brush teeth, get pajamas, etc.)

8:57pm – change BB diaper

8:53pm – hand BB off to Daddy; grab BG; traipse back down hall to Bean’s room for nightly family sing-along (“She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain,” three verses, “Old MacDonald,” three verses, “Row Row,” and “Twinkle Twinkle”); kisses for all

9:10pm – put babies back in rockers

9:14pm – I heat up dinner and attempt to eat

9:20pm – BB hungry; put dinner down; go get bottle; feed BB

9:24pm – Bean bellows (we tell her to go to sleep)

9:48pm – change BG diaper

9:50pm – all three start settling down; finish snarfing (cold) dinner

10:01pm – BG fussy; wants to be held

10:09pm – BG falls asleep in my arms; put back in rocker

10:25pm – BG fussy again; try feeding, but she’s not interested; wants to wiggle

10:35pm – BG finally eats

10:45pm – BG done with eating; Daddy takes her from me and puts her in the rocker

11:05pm – Mommy dozes on couch

12:35am – BB grumbling; I get up to get bottle; Daddy heads off to bed

12:37am – feed BB; change diaper; re-swaddle and put in crib

1:33am – BG grumbling; I get bottle; feed; change diaper; re-swaddle and put in crib

2:00am – Mommy dozes on couch

2:12am – BB fusses

2:16am – move BB from crib to rocker; rock with finger while lying on couch

2:21am – change BB diaper; feed BB

2:50am – re-swaddle; put BB back down in crib

2:54am – fussing continues; move BB back to rocker; rock with finger while lying on couch

2:59am – BB asleep; Mommy dozes

4:00am – wake up Daddy for his shift; head off to bed

***

So… who’s coming to visit first?