I have never considered myself superstitious. I never wore the same tshirts after my football teams won or, I guess I should say, burned the shirts I wore when my teams lost (#buffalobillsproblems). I never did the same exact thing before every swim meet and don’t have any lucky item to bring me good days. That has changed since I had kids.
Sometime in July, we were pretty much on the edge and ready to jump. We were deep into month 4 with twins and life wasn’t getting any easier, if anything, it was getting harder as the days without sleep went on. The funny thing about having babies is that everyone wants to help for the first couple of weeks when all you want to do is love on your baby alone and bask in the wonder that is this child (these children) that you’ve created. You’re in a fog for those first weeks but you are so in love, you are able to push through. Months 2-5 hit and while your love is growing everyday, your patience is diminishing, and quickly. Everyone assumes you got this and you do but now is when you need someone to come hold a baby while you nap. Now is when you need someone to come clean your house because you don’t have the energy to do it and it desperately needs to be done. Now is when you need people asking you how you’re doing and people to vent to about how hard life feels. Now is when your little babe doesn’t just sleep all of the time so you have no time to cook dinner. You need help to get through the day after you’ve been awake for 3-4 straight months but your baby (babies) is (are) old news and you’re on your own, sister.
One night, we tried some essential oils that a friend from college had sent me. It had worked to help ease her babe into sleeping through the night so I figured what the hell, can’t make them sleep any LESS at this point. We rubbed a little bit of lavender oil (mixed with coconut oil I believe so it could be put on the skin directly) on 4 little feet, rubbed them together, put their footie jams on and a miracle happened; they slept all night. Was it it oils or a coincidence? I do not know but I’ll tell you what, those boys have been sleeping through most nights ever since so I don’t plan to stop. They will be 14 years old and I’ll still be rubbing oils on their feet.
This whole thing works in the opposite way too. If you know my husband, you know he openly admits to loving his baths. Last Tuesday, we were trudging through our bedtime routine when Brandon tells me “I think I’m going to take a bath tonight”. I told him he better hurry up and take that bath because the boys were acting up a little bit and I had a feeling that it was going to take some extra work to get them to sleep that night. He goes into the boys’ room to grab Carter for me and all I hear is “OH MY GOD”. Luke had thrown up everywhere and he continued to throw up for the next 2 hours and then randomly through the night, exorcism style. It was horrible, not because I couldn’t handle him painting the walls with his stomach acid but because of how terrible you could tell he felt. So we had Carter screaming because he’s needy AF and Luke was vomiting, everywhere. It was truly a special night. We survived the night with very little sleep but Luke woke up the next morning smiley and ready to take on the day. He felt better so that’s all that matters.The on-call nurse chalked it up to a mini-stomach virus and told us to monitor him for the next 24 hours.
Fast forward to Saturday night (way past the 24 hour mark by this point and Lukey’s been great). Brandon and I were able to escape for a couple of hours to eat dinner without shoveling it in at light speed because #parentlife. Brandon looked at me from across the table and said the dreaded words, “I think I’m going to take a bath tonight”. You SOB. I knocked on the wood table and asked him if he remembered what happened last time he said that. “No, that won’t happen again” he said. Famous last words.
We get home as the boys are being put to bed. Carter is ready to party, not go to sleep. He’s definitely going to need some extra rocking tonight. Luke is awake too, letting out this pathetic little cry. Brandon brings him to me to rock to sleep just in time for him to lose his stomach all over me. ALL OVER ME. Are my 7 month olds actually mini frat boys? What the hell is with all of this partying/vomit? I close my eyes, trying to stay calm, while the river of warm vomit runs down the inside of my hoodie and pools at my pants. Before I can comfort him and get up to get us both changed, it’s happening again. And again. It continued for another 2 hours and then randomly through the night. No fever, no blow out diaps, none of the same food he had on tuesday, just vom. Lots of it. Apparently this is a thing that I used to do when I was little, most likely related to reflux so I guess karma is a bitch. You know what else was a bitch that night? Me. I told Brandon that if he EVER spoke of a bath again, I would end him. Looking back, it may have been an over-reaction but what are the freaking chances that he says that and on both nights, twin A takes it to mean “I’m ready to party” and twin B vomits all night? It’s like he had put it out in the universe that we were headed toward a relaxing night and the universe replied with Screamy-McScreamter and a sick-but-not-really-sick baby.
Every night since, while I’m putting on their (good luck) essential oils, I make sure to let the boys know that I by no means, want to take a bath and daddy will never be taking baths again so there is no need for alarm up in this house.
Soon enough, I’m sure, there will be another thing that coincides with two nights of chaos and we can go back to talking about baths. Frankly, I hope it happens soon because I could really use a night of sleeping babies, a husband away from me in the bath and a big ol’ uninterrupted glass of wine.
Wish me luck…