You know when you start a new job, or a new relationship, and you sometimes have to pinch yourself in the beginning because it just hasn't sunk in yet? Normally that wears off as new becomes old, and fresh schedules fall into routine.
Well we're going on 10 months with the twins now and I still have to pinch myself daily, or let one of them do it, because having three little boys still seems so surreal. Me, Emma, I, have three children, three boys. I haven't even begun to understand what blessings and challenges my little wolf pack entails, but I'm starting to get small glimpses. So.....here are a few glimpses straight out of the loudest home on Goodview Ct.
Last night I walked in at about 4:15 from work and Charlie greeted me, along with every pair of shoes he's the proud owner of, at the front door (which I could barely swing open due to said footwear). What do I see? Glasses on his face that I'm 110% sure he cannot see through with all the fingerprints and . . . food? I hope those are food chunks? What else do I observe on my four year old? Why none other than the very same shirt and shorts he's worn since Monday. Four days, one outfit, not bad. He gives me a big hug and says, "I missed you mommy! How was work? Are those guys just drivin ya cwazy?" Someone's been listening in on mommy and daddy's conversations about mommy's work. I quickly kiss the clean spot on his face and carry two babies upstairs.
Since the arrival of our twins, our home has lost it's cozy clean feel; it's now cluttered with baby things, the largest obstacle being their 'kennel.' Judge away, but Andy and I are all for the kennel. It keeps hot-wheel cars out and babies away from stairs. I plop my purse, the diaper bag, my laptop, and the car seats down and put the babies in their respective jail cell, on separate sides of course- gotta buy myself a couple minutes. I then grab a cold glass of pineapple juice and head toward the couch to convene with my husband about dinner plans. No sooner have I attempted to sit when Charlie's lion toy "Alvie" makes an appearance out of nowhere under the burp rag I sat on. Ouch. Every dang day I manage to sit on Alvie.
I then hear screaming from the kennel and look to find Sawyer making a snack out of Luke's toes . . . again. Luke's still a little gummy bear but Sawyer has popped through a set of beautiful chompers and I'm not sure if it's because they're so pink and plump, or if it's revenge for Luke pulling his comb-over hair chunk all the time, but Sawyer's very favorite things to chew on are Luke's toes. Where Luke puts everything in his mouth, Sawyer is particular. He'll take a pacifier, or a plug as we call it, and other than that it's just Lukey Piggies for him- no teething rings or rattles. Poor Luke. The twins spend at least an hour each evening in a vicious circle of toe chomping and hair pulling, which they can conveniently do simultaneously while lying side by side. Socks and hats you say? Oh they're far beyond figuring out how to remove those, and barriers like that just make the forbidden fruit all the more enticing. Good grief.
As soon as I remove swollen piggies from Sawyer's clenched jaw the crying stops, and the silence allows me to hear what's going on in the kitchen with Charlie, and what I hear is spitting, a lot of spitting. I choose to ignore and let the problem come to me- never a good decision but sometimes all my patience, or lack of, allows. It doesn't take long and Charlie comes running in. I'd say nothing surprises me anymore, but that would be underestimating a four year old boy. Charles runs in with a mouth FULL of cat fur. I bypass the pointless question, why, and go straight to how. He's gagging and spitting and attempting to pull fur out of his mouth- so I take him to the toilet and we start pulling it out together. This was quite the task and by the end of it his four day old shirt was soaked with sticky drool and fur. When his condition was stable, I asked him if he bit Tink. His reply was simply, "No, she scared me so I grabbed all her fur and put it in my mouth." Well alright then, seems reasonable.
We made dinner and after eating I was sitting at the table and Charlie walks up and puts his finger about a half an inch from my eye and says, "Mom I love you, this is for you." By the time my eyes focus on his finger, and the giant booger on the end, it's too late and I now have a Charlie booger on my eyelid. I can't help but wonder if this happens to other moms. I explain why it's not okay to put your boogers on other people, a concept I've explained before, and one that is completely confusing to Charlie. He sees it as a true gift, a piece of him has been shared.
The rest of the evening was relatively low key, mostly consisting of Charlie telling me Jesus wants him to have a cell phone and following me around with his extended Zebra jaw clincher. He uses Mr Zebra to bite my butt and speak ridiculous nonsense like "Luke and Sawyer want Zebra teeth for their teeth mom" through his zebra friend, directly in my ear, wherever I'm sitting.
Alas, the evening finally quiets and my three little gremlins settle in for bed around 10 and my husband leaves for work. Tonight in my cluttered home you'll find a sticky four year old with all the best intentions, a smiley bald chub of a baby with teeth marks on his toes, and a toothy baby and paranoid kitten both sporting bald spots. They're so sweet when they sleep and I cherish their little calm faces knowing tomorrow is coming with a new set of fabulous adventures, and if we're lucky, a different shirt for Charlie.
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