It’s Monday! Which actually doesn’t really mean anything in a world where the week is divided into “Reinforcement Days” (aka The Weekend), “Non-Daycare Days” (3 under 3 vs me) and just plain old “Days”.
Mondays are about the only real structured day we have in the Casa at the moment. Mr 3 is at daycare, the supermarket delivery comes, sheets and towels get changed and there are usually some errands to run. Today however, is wet. Two babies plus rain = sofa day.
7:26am: I’m awake. I’m sure you’re thinking I have it pretty sweet getting to sleep till then with three kids. It’s a nice little arrangement the Mr and I have fallen into. I get up in the night and he gets up in the morning. Sometimes it works out really well for him because Mr 3 stays put all night and then wakes up at 6:30am. Other days I’ve needed help overnight settling and Mr 3 has been in and out 6 times and we’re all walking zombies going through the motions of breakfast at 6am. By the time I wake, the Mr is almost out the door to work and daycare drop-off so I get the baby update (time they got up, nappy status) and they’re gone.
Silence reigns. The living room is chaos. I vow to declutter Mr 3’s toys for the 17th week in a row.
8-8:30am: Skim the news headlines (aka Facebook feed) while the babies complete their morning rolling circuit around the living room. I get up several times to retrieve Explorer Soph from half-under the coffee table where she is intently inspecting the table leg.
8:45am: Message husband to ask what time the babies got up. This happens every single morning. He could tell me 10 times and I would still forget. Brain is fried. Look at floor to see The Explorer has fallen asleep on the mat. I take that to mean they’ve been up for 2 hours and it’s time for a nap.
8:50am: Where the hell is the supermarket order? We are now outside the selected three-hour delivery window and inside my 30-minute shower/washing/breakfast. Thanks Woolies! I change the sheets and make the beds. It’s Cleaner Eve, so I spend 20 more precious baby nap minutes vacuuming, wiping crusted pasta sauce from Mr 3’s place at the table, tidying up 356 pieces of Kinder Surprise toy and hunting for stray bunny poo.
9:20am: The baby monitor lights up. Dammit! Go in and see Ele with eyes wide open. We have the pep talk: “No no no no no. It’s not awake time yet. Mummy needs a shower. And food.” I plug her dummy back in, give her a few pats and back out slowly. There’s a 70-30 chance this won’t work.
9:30am: Soggy, harassed looking delivery driver arrives. The rustle of the bags sounds like a maraca festival. Sleep babies, sleep.
9:35am: I race to the bathroom for my patented 2-minute shower. The babies are still asleep. I clearly earned some good karma over the weekend.
10am: Breakfast. And it’s not Easter Eggs. There are mental high-fives. Surely there is a badge for this shit. I look around for my orange juice, but it’s fallen victim to the baby brain. Maybe I didn’t even pour it. I’ll never know.
I come across the story of baby Edison McLean, whose final day was captured by Sydney photographer James Day. I cry a bucketload of tears. The photos and video are so raw and powerful. I smile at baby Eddy’s dad Charlie as he gives his precious son Kiss Attacks, just as we do our girls. It takes every ounce of strength not to go in and wake the girls and hold them. As if on cue, Ele wakes up.
10:30am: After ravenously attacking my neck as I carried them to the living room, I settle in to feed the baby vamps. I used to do this tandem, but it’s kinda nice to have the one-on-one time feeding. Plus having your chest scraped to pieces is more manageable when you’re only batting away one baby claw. I finish and start making a coffee.
12:30pm: I have no idea where the last two hours went. There are toys everywhere and amongst the mess, two babies. They’ve started interacting in the last few days, which is mainly stealing toys from each other and some pretty gnarly skin grabs. Still, it’s cute. We read a book – Guess What Colours – the babies are riveted. It ends with both babies chewing on the cover.
Rare vision of the babies sharing the same thing at the same time without tears.
12:45pm: Babies in bed. Finally drinking coffee. Spend my lunch break watching Part 2 of the Insight Twins special.
1:30pm: Soph’s awake. I leave her to free range the living room while I finish watching my doco. Ele wakes 15 minutes later. Ravenous. We feed then it’s back to the floor for some play time. Hit on an activity that combines their love of playing together and love of destruction by making various towers using Fisher Price roller blocks. Ele decides it’s the perfect time to commando crawl for the first time. I AM SO NOT READY FOR THIS.
3:45pm: Nap time. I should probably also put on at least one load of washing. I open the machine to discover the Mr has put a load on already. The lights and darks are mixed and a tissue has gone through the wash but YOLO. (Can you even YOLO washing?)
4:30pm: Quick feed before heading off to get big brother from daycare. Since I haven’t been outside today and it’s dry, we head up in the mega-pram. This doubles as my exercise for the day so I change into my activewear. Ha! I bet you thought I’d been wearing it all day.
5:45pm: Daycare days are easy dinner days, so today’s creation is a guaranteed-to-be-eaten-without-a-tantrum snack plate of apple, grapes, ham, cheese and Mummy’s Special Meatballs (felafels). The next hour is a blur of feeding, changing, more changing (today is a “high poo count” day), settling babies and monitoring Mr 3’s food intake. This is my absolute least favourite part of the day and ranges from mildly tolerable to excruciating. Thankfully reinforcements – aka Daddy – arrive at 6:30pm.
7pm: Babies in bed. Wine glass filled. Annnnnd relaaaxxx… for five minutes before starting dinner and the goodnight ritual with Mr 3.
If you watched and were as moved by baby Edison’s story as I was, you can donate to the Royal Women’s Hospital Midwives Group Practice and NICU in Eddy’s honour.
How Life Has Changed 