A crying Little Boy, some joy, and a baptismal ploy.

Things are a changin’ at the House of Bad Egg. Last night’s initial foray into sleep training went fairly well, if you can get past the hour and a half I sobbed along with my babies. Well, along with Little Boy anyway. Little Girl cried some, but much less, then decided to show us that she understood what we were after and only woke once (!) for a feeding during the rest of the night.

We’ll see how tonight goes, but I’m hopeful that both babies may soon understand that night time is for sleeping, not eating.

Another issue being volleyed around the house? B. wants to baptize the babies. I do not. If we had ever attended church, or planned to, I’d consider it. As it is, I find it to be pretty darned hypocritical, and not an example I care to set. B. is much more spiritual than I am and firmly believes in God. I am a tried and true agnostic and believe that religion is like masturbation: something you should learn about only when you’re old enough and that should only be practiced in private. We are not finding much middle ground on this issue, neither of us being willing to bend much.

The only thing saving me from being flat-out angry and the fight escalating is the fact that B. is the repository of lots and lots of big ideas and plans, few of which ever make it to fruition. If I bide my time and don’t make a huge issue out of it, chances are it’ll fall through the cracks and never happen. That’s what I’m counting on, anyway.

Jumping topics yet again, we had a nice Christmas, if only because we received wonderful news from two of our infertility buddies. A positive beta after an IVF cycle for one, and the adoption of a beautiful baby girl for the other. Could there be any more wonderful a holiday gift than to hear such news? I am smiling from ear to ear just thinking about it.

I hope 2007 brings everyone their heart’s fulfillment. Good health, prosperity, love, peace, hope and joy to all of you!

Diary of a bad bedtime.*

Bedtime was so rocky this evening that it left me dazed. Now that the tots are asleep I should be working; instead I’m sitting at the computer feeling more shellshocked than motivated.

Little Boy did not nap enough today and so started falling apart around five this afternoon. A smarter mom probably would have just put him straight to bed at that point, but not me. I’m always frightened that the babies will sleep one minute less in the morning, so I try to keep them up ‘til their usual 6:30 or 7:00 bedtime. So, he fussed. He cried. He screamed some. He drank a bottle, then fussed some more. Finally, at 6:15 I couldn’t hold out any longer and took him upstairs to begin the bedtime ritual.

Little Girl had been napping peacefully up until this point; again, a sign that they both probably should have been in bed earlier. After changing Fusspants Little Boy’s diaper and getting him swaddled, I brought Little Girl upstairs to do the same. While Little Boy cried in the background, I went about changing her diaper. In the calming, low-stimulation, low-light environment of the bedroom I didn’t notice that Little Girl’s diaper rash had flared up, big time. I wiped, she screamed bloody murder. We’re talking rigid body, bright red face, maximum volume, the whole shebang. I felt awful - is there anything worse than hurting your child, however inadvertently?

Little Boy, upon hearing his sister’s distress, amped his own crying up a few notches. Two inconsolable babies...and did I mention that B. is traveling so I’m alone? This would have been a rough bedtime with the both of us here.

I eventually got them calmed enough to get them into their crib, and they’re sleeping now, but without the benefit of the usual few ounces of breastmilk they eat before they fall asleep.

I think I’m in for a rough night...

*My apologies for this largely uninteresting post.

With a screaming baby in the background...

Gawd, I’m such a flopawful mess that I’ve started this post about ten times and can’t get it right. Onward then...

It was a shitacular weekend. I am exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. I did some reading online yesterday morning, hoping to find solace in other’s similar situations, but it seems everyone is doing far better than I. There are several infertility/twins blogs I read that I won’t list here, ‘cause I really do like these people and what they’re saying. I’m just feeling a bit jealous, that’s all. Most everyone else seems to have a better grasp on this twin mommyhood stuff than I do.

It has not gotten easier. I no longer believe that it will, at least not until the babies are significantly older. If one challenge has been surmounted, another has arisen to take its place. I don’t feel incompetent and I’m not doing much second-guessing of my parenting choices, but every day is still a struggle, each part of the day with its own unique challenge that fills me with dread.

Will the twins let me sleep past six AM?

Will they eat any significant amount today, or is it going to be all night feedings again as usual?

Will Little Boy take an afternoon nap? If not, how big of a pill is he going to be later?

Can I attempt to leave the house with them, or am I better off not trying?

Will they go to bed easily or will it be a struggle?

Will they sleep for more than an hour or two before needing to eat?

Repeat, ad infinitum.

And then there’s B. Things are not good between us right now. I am perpetually angry, resentful, cranky, irritated with him. There are a host of issues at hand, both small and large. They run the gamut from his continual habit of placing things (his shoes, a briefcase, etc.) directly in high traffic areas (a minor thing until you’ve almost fallen - repeatedly - while carrying a baby) to larger issues, like a couple of flat-out deceptions he’s been caught in. I honestly think that I don’t at all know the man I’m married to, not today.

To his credit, it’s not his parenting skills at issue. The man’s a good dad, no doubt, and I’m thankful for that. It’s just Everything Else...

Adding to my misery is the feeling that nothing but more difficulty lies ahead of me. Tonight we’re moving the babies out of the co-sleeper into their crib in the nursery. This is just the beginning of a series of changes afoot at the House of Bad Egg. Hopefully these transitions will make for an easier time down the road (ha!) but in the short term they promise to mean crying babies and a sad, cranky mom.

So what’s keeping me going at this point? Those little moments of joy babies bring. Little Girl is my ray of sunshine, Little Boy a sweet, sensitive munchkin. If not for their smiles, their giggles, seeing them sleeping peacefully at night, that sort of thing, well, I’d have jumped off a cliff long ago.