It’s been a long day. Not necessarily a hard day but definitely a long day. The boys are going through another growth spurt so feedings are every 2 hours, if I’m lucky. Between that and the wild beasts I call dogs, there has been no time to rest. You would think I would be in better shape. Babies are hard. Twins are hard two. Ha, get it.. I’msotired.
I pumped the boys full of food and set them down, hoping that I would be able to make it out of the room without someone losing their shit. I needed to have a mom moment, they would have to cry it out (cue crunchy moms screaming for miles). I grabbed a beer and got my shower chair ready.
Yes, I use a chair.. in the shower. Twin pregnancy was a lot of things but relaxing was not one of them. Even standing was a life-ending task for me so in order to help find some sort of relief, my husband got me a shower chair. Maybe he did it so that he could secretly laugh at the whale in the tub, either way, I loved it and I refuse to get rid of the damn thing. Only God can judge me.
It was closing in on 830pm and Brandon still wasn’t home so I was pouting that I was hungry, sore and tired. The dogs must have felt it because they all came in and laid on the ground to make sure I didn’t drown myself. Brody was REALLY worried apparently because he felt the need to come IN the shower to check on me, knocking my beer into the shower in the meantime. I just stared at him as he slowly backed out as if he knew that he had made a huge mistake.
As I took a sip of what was left of my beer, my brain started racing. I’m not sure if it’s an adult thing, a female thing, a mom thing or maybe I’m just a psycho but I feel like ever since these boys made an appearance, I have not been able to relax. There is always something to be done, cleaned, changed or worried about. Tonight, it went a little something like this:
“I wonder how long I have until the boys start popping off. I cannot believe people do this multiple times. I got thrown up on twice today and pooped on once and that’s considered a good day. Thank God for babies in footie pajamas or I would jump. When’s the rewarding part come? I guess the smiles are pretty damn cute. Should I go back to work full time or part time? God knows I can’t stay home full time. Should I stay home most of the time to take care of them? Put in all of this work for shit they won’t even remember but is going to take YEARS off of my life? Does it REALLY make a difference in the long run? I would miss them though. I don’t want to regret being able to spend time with them because I’m never doing this baby shit again. Would I do this again? I wonder if it would be a boy or a girl. What would I name them? Will it be twins again? Oh my god, twins. I can’t even risk having to do this again. Maybe. I don’t know. Oh look, there’s dried poop on my hand that I didn’t even see it. Good thing I didn’t have any time to prepare food today. I’m starving. That mf-er better walk in the damn door with chinese food in his hands begging for forgiveness. Work until 9pm, what in the hell. Doesn’t he remember that he has a wife and TWO MF-ING INFANTS AT HOME? Not to mention the 3 dogs. Good thing he’s such a good daddy. He’s literally the best thing, ever. Too bad I’m going to have to kill him. I need to clean the kitchen, the living room, the back room and bathrooms. I need to organize the boys clothes and vacuum their room too. I need someone to do this for me. I want a vacation. Is that a crying baby? I wonder what they are going to be like when they are older. I hope they don’t grow up to be axe murderers. How do you stop kids from being axe murderers? Kids are so hard. Could I ever do this again? I think the rewarding part about motherhood is just saying you survived it. And the little smiles. My god, I’ll miss the tiny baby smiles. How am I going to survive this week? I’m so tired already. My back is SO sore and I don’t even know why. I really need to get back in shape. I really need to run but I also really want a nap. I wonder if I’ll ever get out of maternity clothes. I’ll just be frumpy for the rest of my life, ugh. Damnit. I don’t want to be flabby anymore. I really want dessert. Brandon better walk in the door with a sheet cake that says “I’m sorry I had to work” on it if he knows what’s good for him. I’m so tired. I didn’t even know this level of tired existed and I have to find a way to get off of this shower chair and go out and take care of these kids without having a mental breakdown…. Daddy’s home. Thank God. Thank God for Daddy. Thank God for shower chairs.”
Brandon walked into the bathroom slowly, surprised to see that I was happy to see him, not in a murderous rage like my text messages may or may not have implied. We ‘joked’ about the ‘fake’ trap that I had set to end him and he ordered me chinese. One day, we’ll laugh about what a hell we are currently living in and I’m sure we’ll miss it. Until then, I’ll just sit in the shower for a little bit longer in case there’s some baby poop on me that I haven’t found yet.
Wish me luck.