They may break your bones, but that’s not really the point. My child plays outside. She falls over, gets knocked over by the dogs and other kids at daycare, not to mention her own lack of coordination at 16 months old. But she loves it – would rather be out than in no matter what the weather. Just two days ago we got home from work/daycare, and I opened the door to let the dogs out. She was out before they were, and no sooner had I turned and walked toward the sink (about 10 steps away) I heard a smack, followed by a cry. One of the dogs probably knocked her over, and from where she was sitting I can imagine it was just as she was going down the small step (which she had mastered weeks ago) onto the patio. I didn’t see a single mark on her, and she wasn’t holding her face or anything, so I assumed she had just had a shock and held her until she stopped crying.
It’s no wonder Glenda the Good traveled by bubble! I can think of very few things not GOOD about bubbles. They might be a little messy at times and they don’t last very long, but they are so GRAND in their fragility. Bubbles are a beautiful analogy for life itself. And frankly, I believe they can change the world. They certainly have the power to change mine.
The first 18 months were a blur….3 of everything….3 car seats, 3 cribs, 3 feedings, 3 babies crying, 3 bed time routines, 3 crawlers/toddlers to chase around….and 1 tired mommy! I was not prepared for having 3 babies at once, but like everything else in life, you find creative ways to manage.
It is true what they say about twins holding a special bond, or connection one could say. However, there are a lot of things they don’t tell you. Being a twin is more common now then it was when I was growing up. My brother and I were considered a special rarity, two for the price of one. Being a mom brings its own challenges as it is, and there is a reason moms are called superwoman. Being the mom of multiples should have its own kind of name. Something more along the lines of a cartoon that was around when I was younger called “Go Go Gadget,” that was my mom. I don’t know how she did it, but her and my dad did a great job!
When I had my son everyone, including our pediatrician, warned me about the witching hour. That glorious time of day where your newborn is fussy and it is nearly impossible to console, let alone get anything done because you are wearing holes in the hallway or doing squats while singing. Really, doing whatever it takes to keep your baby from crying, counting the minutes until your husband gets home and takes over while you cook dinner. As the witching hour phase passed we entered a new phase, the phase no one warned me about! For me, it was a much less enjoyable stage - the one where my husband and I were both back to work… and someone still had to make dinner.