The Tale of Twins

It’s 8am and the babies are fed, changed, and asleep. After tag-teaming the 7am feeding/changing routine, I sent Daddy-Tadd to bed as he’d had the night shift. Caitlyn helped with the 2:30am. They let me have a full, uninterrupted night sleep. I feel like a new woman. 

Franklin, or Frankie, is a noisy sleeper. I have come to call him “Squeaky McSqueaker” because of all the racket he makes while he dreams. You are never sure if he is awake or asleep until you actually look at him. After he eats he likes to be propped up in the corner of the couch so he can survey the living room—or the blurs of the living room, depending on how a newborn sees the world— until his milk coma takes over and he falls asleep, which doesn’t take too long.

Sally has become a FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) child. Whereas Frankie stays awake a tiny bit after polishing off a bottle, little Miss FOMO keeps her eyes brightly open so she won’t miss a thing. She doesn’t fuss, just lays there looking around—waiting and watching. She must be FBI-in-Training.  FOMO FBIT.

Neither of these little twins are super fussy or colicky, and we thank our lucky stars for that. But they are twins, and everything is times two. Lots of diapers, wipes, and laundry. 

I have the privilege of being here in their house for the first weeks of their lives. How often does a grandma get to do that? Sure, Tadd, Caitlyn, and I are sleep-deprived, but we are told that will pass—there are no indicators of that yet, but we have hope. Hope springs eternal in the hearts of parents and grandparents. 

I am fortunate in that Tadd doesn’t hate having his mother-in-law around, at least he is not letting on if he does. We are working together to take care of these babies so Caitlyn can get some much needed rest. Her body has been through the ringer. First you consider she carried these two babies to full twin-term, and then underwent a vaginal birth AND a c-section to get them here. She can nap for three hours, get up and move around for a bit, and then go down for another nap. She says she feels guilty for sleeping so much, but I told her yesterday she has ONE job: sleeping. That’s it. We can handle the rest.

Thankfully these babies are bottle fed, so anyone can take care of them (well, not really anyone, but anyone on the trusted list). Caitlyn bought a nifty machine called a BabyBreeza, which makes a perfectly mixed and heated bottle in like 30 seconds. I can’t tell you how much that helps. 

Thus far, Frankie and Sally have had their first outing (to the doctor for a checkup—does that count?), first bath, and their first trip to Grandpa Jack and Grandma Sue’s for family swim day. They lounged in the shade by the pool and were passed from one set of hands to another, until oldest cousin, Jack, insisted they be brought inside while the lawn boys were working on the grass. 

These babies have older brothers. Samson. six, is the ever attentive biggest brother. He loves to hold Sally (the novel sister), and is learning how to feed and burp her and her twin brother. I keep trying to hand off diaper changing to him, but he’s not having any part of that. 

Walt, three, on the other hand, could give a flip less about the two new family members. All he cares about is Otter Pops, string cheese, and Mickey’s Playhouse. As long as there are plenty of those, life is good. 

He is also digging the string of play days he is having with cousins. Caitlyn’s sisters, Whitney and Haley, and sister-in-law, Lindey, have truly stepped up to the plate and taken turns corralling the two big brothers. It’s just one party-day after another for Sam and Walt. 

Grandma Camme comes by often to get some twin time. Face it, these babies must be held. She also heeded a request from Samson for spaghetti. He wanted some Camme-ghetti for snacking, and she complied. 

Charity is in full force and there has been a parade of dinners coming in. Ladies in the neighborhood have brought by meals, which have helped immensely.  I’m beginning to behave like Pavlov’s dog and start salivating at 5pm. And my understanding is family and friends have signed up to continue feeding us for the next couple weeks. 

Today I have my assignment at the Payson Temple, so Whitney is coming down to help out while I am gone. She and family friend, Kalli, are committed to come here and take a night shift sometime this coming week. My only concern is Kalli putting a twin in her pocket and taking him or her home. We must perform a pat-down before she leaves. 

Yes, twins are a trip. You have these moments you look at the two little bassinets in the living room and think to yourself, “Holy crap, there are really two of them. Seriously, two of them,” and you have a mental moment of freak out. Then you hear that unmistakeable sound of someone filing their diaper, or a burp with some spit up to follow, or the dryer buzzing to tell you a load of clothes is ready to fold, and you get back to work. Double the work, double the magic, and, most of all, very double the blessings.  

Wade Through the Dark

“And we did … wade through much affliction in the wilderness.”

Yes, Nephi, we know it was tough out there in the wilderness with that nightmare of a family, but why use the word wade?

Webster’s definition of wade is “to walk through any substance that yields to the feet, like water; to walk through on the bottom, like a river; to move or pass through with difficulty.”

What an excellent way to describe our “walk” through life, which, at times, is really more like a wade through quicksand.  Down here in this fallen world, we are on the bottom. (I don’t mean to infer we are bottom dwellers.) The apostle Paul describes it this way: “we see through a glass darkly.” (1 Corinthians 13:12) 

Looking up from the bottom here on earth to the heavens above, our vision is obscured and reality is elusive. The reality I speak of is God and Christ. They are what is real. This earth life is merely a stage for us to act out our life on and prove to ourselves what we’re made of. It’s not permanent, people, so don’t get too attached to it. 

Nephi’s use of the word wade helps me understand that even though the way might be hard to travel, I’m still able to move forward. It might be difficult, but it’s possible. This phrase might be trite and overused, but truly “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” 

And I hate to be Debbie Downer, but just so you know, life will eventually kill you.