It's A Zoo In Here

Well this is certainly abandoned territory, isn't it? Although it certainly isn't the ONLY forgotten pastime since the boys arrived this summer.

Truth be told, for someone who had her "stuff" at least fairly organized and put together, adapting to this new normal has been a little tough. Before, I didn't merely multi-task. I multi-multi-tasked. There was my freelance writing and editing career, charity work, involvement in Boo's preschool, time with friends, family get-togethers, workouts, house upkeep, and planning family adventures. My friends thought I was crazy to take on all that I did.

Clearly, things have changed. Post-it notes are piled seven-deep on my desk with reminders of things I need to get accomplished. For someone who never let her to-do list get the better of her, I've been most thoroughly beaten. The priorities have shifted. Twins aren't double the work--they're more like triple the load (and on tough days, even more than that). Constant feedings, diaper changes, messes to be cleaned and laundry to be handled. Often, the boys decide not to nap at the same time. Conor has physical therapy several times a month to help stretch and strengthen his poor neck, which got cramped up in the womb.

And this doesn't touch upon what needs to be done to keep up with Boo now that she's a big kindergartener! Homework, lunches, reading time, school functions planned for and attended, gymnastics, Daisies, and Tae Kwan Do.

In the meantime, articles are due, the dog needs her shots, I have letters to write, family portraits to coordinate, doctor's appointments to make. In anticipation for the holidays, I'm trying to carefully plan ahead, shop sales online and hope for the best.

There are days when it's all a bit much, honestly. (I should be stealing a few minutes sleep instead of updating here. I've been going since 5:30 this morning and won't fall exhausted onto my pillow until 11.) I've become one of those crazy moms, spread a bit too thin at times. But I try to pause a few times a day and recognize how quickly this time is passing. The boys are 5 months now--such a fun, engaging time. All this, even the ugly, messy parts are a blessing. We worked dang hard to get here. And I try to capture moments like these amidst the chaos (Boo the zookeeper and her animals):

What a difference a professional photographer can make...

Bliss

Exhausted, sore, and vaguely overwhelmed but reveling in bliss and blessings. And here are the two reasons why:

Declan at 7 pounds, 2 ounces and Conor at 5 pounds, 10 ounces, born May 30th.

Boy, oh boy

I grew up in a house of girls. There was me, my two sisters, my mom, and my poor dad. (Even the dog was a girl!) Estrogen ruled the roost. And it was comfortable for us ladies. By comparison, I remember my mom shuddering any time a neighborhood boy would enter the home.

"They touch everything!" she would hiss. "My silk wallpaper just absorbs oily little handprints. And they don't know how to treat antiques!" In truth, our house was not set up for young males. All our rambunctiousness had to take place out-of-doors or in the basement. We learned very early on not to enter the "no-no rooms," Mom's formal sitting parlor and the dining room. We had strict rules to obey when it came to the house and its upkeep. It just was what it was.

Fast forward some 20-plus years. While pregnant with Becca, I just KNEW she was a girl, despite our decision to be surprised upon delivery. I coveted swirls of pink and chocolate brown and fell in love with girly outfits. And I was right: Our life was soon overrun with princess gowns, fairies, dressy shoes, and bows.

This time around, I had no such certainty. However, we know FIVE sets of fraternal twins--all of which include one boy and one girl. It seemed like a nice balance, less competition, the best of both worlds. I think The Banker and I sort of assumed this was what I had rolling about in my quickly growing abdomen.

So when the sonogram showed one boy, we weren't surprised. However Baby B remained demurely hidden behind the umbilical cord, causing us to wait some two additional weeks to know for sure what we were having.

Yet when that umbilical cord moved, it did not hide a little girl. It hid another little boy. TWO BOYS. Oh boy, oh boy, indeed.

My friend texted me: "Welcome to the world of balls." This seems an understatement. I don't know boys. I wasn't raised with them and haven't a clue how to go about molding them into respectable young men. Everyone has told me the energy levels are higher. The common sense can be lower. Becca and I will be outnumbered. And oh, my antiques.