Understanding the real meaning of words

I used to feel sad that my daughter was an only child, and as the years passed and she grew older, I felt even sadder. I felt that life could not be as happy for her as it could be for those with siblings; that she would have less fun because there was no brothers or sisters at home to laugh and talk and play with. I know now that that theory is pants, and not because there are two new babies in the house, but because Molly’s cousin has come to stay. Now, this is not a slight on Molly’s cousin who has a) a brother and b) behaved impeccably, but because up until now, I thought I knew what the verb ‘to bicker’ meant. Not so.

I thought ‘to bicker’ meant thus:

Me - “Pick up your shoes, please”

Daughter – “Why do I have to do everything around here?” (Remember, she’s five)

Me – “Just pick them up and stop arguing”

Daughter – (as she pouts, stomps, and grabs the shoes in one continuous action) “You’re just being nice to the babies!” (Door slam).

Bicker over.

I realise now that I am insulting the verb ‘to bicker’ by even using the above as an example. The dictionary describes it as something like the following: to argue; to dispute; to quarrel; to debate (I don’t think so), to squabble (oh yes, that’s better).

I thought I had it rough, this occasional, but daily squabbling with my daughter, but I was a fool and have now seen the light, and would like to offer my own, true version of ‘to bicker’.

To Bicker: When two young girls, perhaps related and under the age of eight, get together and in a non-stop manner, disagree with each other about simply EVERYTHING that each says, does and doesn’t do, from the second they get up in the morning to their final breath before sleep at night (and, quite possibly during their sleep; I don’t know because I am now taking up to six Valium a night just to get me through ‘til dawn).

That’s what it really means and if anyone else EVER tries to give you a watered down version of this; smack ‘em.

Groundhog day

Today I:

Ignored a baby’s cry at four in the morning. I am now beginning to understand the different cries and this one was an “anyone out there?” cry as opposed to a “Waaaaaah, gimme food!” cry. I was right to be dismissive as he promptly fell asleep and didn’t wake again until nine o’clock: a miracle

Collected dog from kennels

Dropped daughter and daughter’s cousin to pony camp

Drove to the supermarket

Forgot purse so drove home again

Drove back to the supermarket

Shopped for the week

Spent way too much time wondering whether it’s cheaper to buy loose onions or onions in a bag. (Still not sure and don't really like onions anyway)

Ate a pack of salami in car outside supermarket

Collected boyfriend’s suit from dry cleaners

Made several enlightening comments about the inclement weather to various strangers

Unpacked shopping (the MOST BORING job in the world)

Collected daughter and cousin from pony camp

Fed babies loads of times but managed to always be busy when there was pooping going on so the Au Pair had to step in there

Made burgers for tea and was told that they were much nicer than the ones you get in that very popular fast food chain

Went to the circus (not joking, honest)

Ate about a hundred gummy bears and realised that if you hold a stick of candyfloss for too long without eating it, it melts all over your lap

Put on a wash

Kissed various children goodnight

And wondered if I have finally reached Supermumdom.

Realised very quickly that my inner yearning to really be drinking tequila shots whilst smoking lots of cigarettes and sleeping every day ‘til noon will exclude me from that club, forever.

Thank God

Happy Days

On July 13th

1568 – The Dean of St Paul's Cathedral perfected a way to bottle beer.

1837 – Queen Victoria moved into Buck Pal.

1922 - My father was born.

1930 – The first world cup Football championships began.

1975 – According to my diary, whilst in London, I went to Mass and then to the zoo where I saw moose, elephants, donkeys and performing dolphins and then had salad for tea and ‘watched a film called “West Side Story.”’

1976 - Elvis’s bodyguards were fired so they wrote a book about him saying lots of nasty things.

1985 - I lounged on a couch, ate nachos and watched Live aid on a crappy telly.

2009 - The Little Boy and The Little Girl were conceived.

Now you know everything.

D -

Two things of note happened recently. Number one is that both babies slept through the night until eight o’clock yesterday morning and I, like the fool that I am, thought – ‘Great, that’s it – they’re sleeping through the night and I can now resume life much as it was before they popped into my world.’ Well, I don’t need to tell you that all that changed when Rose woke screaming her head off for grub at four o’clock this morning and no matter what reason I gave, she was not taking ‘No’ for an answer. And so I stomped around the room half hoping that she would be astute enough to pick up on the bad vibes I was hurling in her direction but all I got was a gummy smile. Either Rosie is not very sensitive to other people’s deep-rooted resentments or she doesn’t really give a toss and has figured out already that she will be able to resolve most of life’s problems with her natural charm. Of course she got her bottle and her back rub and her kisses and hugs. Clever Rosie.

The second thing was that Molly’s school report arrived. Now, being the youngest of six in my family, by the time my school report ever arrived, my mother had become so inured to ‘must try harder’ or ‘doesn’t listen’ or ‘you’re daughter’s uniform is a scandal’ that everything just rolled off her and she would vaguely ponder the report’s dubious contents before saying “Well done, Darling.” These days’ things are different. I counted eight ‘excellents’’ in Molly’s report and one “Outstanding.” From what I can gather I either have a five year old genius who as well as having a more superior intelligence than any man alive is, as can be gleaned from her teacher, the most fun and most obliging person ever or she has been paying off said teacher all year. I am still bemused as to how she can leave my house screaming blue murder and step through those school doors where her behaviour is described as ‘always excellent’ and as having ‘a loving gentle nature.’ She made me read the report out loud twice and as she hadn’t come across the word “outstanding” before (she obviously hasn’t changed a nameless twin’s dirty nappies) wondered what it meant. I thought of the few outstanding experiences of my life so far and wondered whether the taste of a donor kebab after five pints of lager topped the list but decided that perhaps she was too young to appreciate or approve of this so settled for the moment of her arrival into the world at four in the morning on an icy Saturday in December. She was pleased with this explanation and it’s the truth I suppose although five pints of lager and a donor kebab after the trauma of childbirth would have been sweet.

A comma too far

I suppose I could write every day but I don’t. Partly because where in the name of God do you think I can find the time to write when there are bibs to wash and botties to wipe and bottles to be shoved in gaping mouths that now insist on smiling every time they eat thus spilling out most of the nourishing goodness I spend so much of my time trying to squeeze into them? That is one reason but the other is that as they pass most of their every day doing the same thing over and over again, I fear I might run out of things to say. One thing I would like to say, or a question I would like to ask and will not stop asking until I get a satisfactory response is – (and am happy for either baby to answer) ‘for Christ’s sake, when are ye going to sleep through the night?’ To give you a hint, babies, an answer like “tonight” would suit me just fine.

My older daughter slept through the night at six weeks but as she was on her own and not being throttled by a vastly bigger sister at every opportunity, that would be too much to expect from little boy Joe. I could separate him from sister Rose but I feel that that would be wrong. I’m still going with the theory that twins should sleep in the same cot but I imagine that three or four more nights of awake at four thirty then at six fifteen and then again at eight will change my approach. I’m already wondering how I can squash a travel cot plus a little boy into our already stuffed bedroom thus leaving the two girls to snore and grunt the night away to their hearts content.

So, the days pass with each day much the same as the day before. I get older but no wiser and they get older and even lovelier. Then I get sadder ‘cos they’re getting older so then I hug them even harder. Then older daughter gets more convinced that I love them more than her and she gets madder which makes me even sadder and by the end of the day what with one thing and another, we’re all crying and then we sleep. And then? Then we wake up smiling and it starts all over again.

By the way, if any Professors of English are reading this, I would just like to say that ‘Yes, I know my punctuation and grammar and spelling is (are?) appalling.’

Twins do that sort of thing to a person.

Lunch?

Today, Joe noticed his sister and I don’t think he liked what he saw. I can understand his fear as Rose is about twice his size and expanding by the day and if I was sharing a cot, which allows access to all areas including me, I too would be scared. Rosie is very fond of her grub and although she still only enjoys the delights of formula milk, solid food is not far off and once she notices Joe, probably closer than we think.

It was the first time that he really looked at her, really took in the reality of what lies beside him on a daily and nightly basis. Up until this point he had seemingly ignored her, his gaze focussed somewhere off in the middle distance. He is a pensive boy and we often ruminate on what he thinks about. Rose is not so complex. We agree that all Rose thinks about is food. Now it is clear what Joe is thinking. Since realising that the out of focus pink mound beside him that he took to be a huge pillow is actually his sister, he is worrying for his life. As we place her to the furthest extreme in the cot, we reassure him that she can’t yet crawl and he is safe. We have not mentioned that as each day passes she is managing to shuffle closer and closer. Apparently extreme hunger will drive humans to pursue the physically impossible to find food and this obviously extends to twelve-week-old babies. We could get another cot but I’m not ready for that yet. It would mean that my babies are already growing up and it’s just too soon for that. But I am also not ready to wake up one morning to find that Rose has eaten her brother.

It is a dilemma and one to which I think I should resolve in a speedy fashion as this morning when Rose gave me her usual gummy smile; I fear I spotted a tooth.

The Things

The babies are now twelve weeks old and to celebrate this I have decided to list the twelve most valuable things I have learned since their arrival.

Thing 1 – Your life as you knew it is dead and gone forever. You thought this had already happened when elder daughter arrived five years ago but you now realise that you were totally kidding yourself when you thought you had it hard.

Thing 2 – I have worked out, using a complex system of pie charts, set squares and a theorem I remember from my final year at school that out of the next eighteen years I will spend eleven months folding bibs, sixteen months wiping pukey mouths and pooey bottoms and seventeen weeks trying to remember how many scoops of formula I have already put in the bottle.

Thing 3 - Babies are unable to keep socks on and I wager that most will have shed at least one sock within three minutes of putting it on him/her/them so when will we learn not to bother?

Thing 4 – The answer is of course ‘Never’ as it is impossible to pass a rack of newborn baby socks without buying at least two pairs.

Thing 5 - You may have managed to order ‘Rosie and Joe, thank you’ cards and they arrived eight weeks ago and are sitting on a shelf but will probably be still there in five years time. As you write this you are hoping that all the people on your list of ‘thankyous’ are reading it so will then stop thinking what a rude cow you are for not thanking them for their lovely and thoughtful gift in the first place.

Thing 6 - To plan is to fail. You must never plan anything ever again. Even planning to plan when they finish school in eighteen years time is a mistake and you may make that twenty-one years plus if one or more of them decides to pursue further education. God help us but the idea of it would put years on you except for the fact that I am so old already.

Thing 7 - Whoever came up with the idea of heating the bottle of milk/formula before feeding clearly did not have twins. Anyone out there who does have twins and does manage to heat their bottles is welcome to immediately dump their current partner/husband and come marry me. Man, Woman, no questions asked.

Thing 8 – A baby, no matter how happy and well fed and dry and clean he is will always start whinging as soon as he hears a fork scrape a plate. They are programmed not to let any person within 20 yards of them eat a meal in peace.

Thing 8 ½ - This doesn’t really matter as you have no time to cook anyway.

Thing 9 – There is no point whatsoever in putting on clean clothes and then lifting up a baby. They will immediately puke on you even if nothing has passed their lips in forty-eight hours. Like lemmings (or is it prairie dogs?) they have a hidden pouch somewhere in their cheeks where they can store curdled milk for days and that is why babies’ cheeks are so chubby.

Thing 10 – If no food has passed your baby’s lips in forty eight hours it means you are being a very bad parent and should hold back on those four bottles of whiskey you must be drinking every day.

Thing 11 – Your two babies will never wake at the same time to feed in the middle of the night. One will wake and you will feed him whilst in a total sleep deprived stupor (you, not the baby.) He will inexplicably refuse to burp so you will walk the boards for what seems like hours patting his back whilst also thinking of all your single friends who are currently snoring/shagging their brains out like what normal people should be doing. The other baby meanwhile sleeps through all of this like a log and you will find yourself for the umpteenth time seduced into thinking that perhaps tonight is the night when other baby sleeps right through so, you go back to bed. You will get to lie down for approximately four minutes before other baby starts screaming as though she hasn’t eaten in a week.

Thing 12 – One baby is a blessing but challenging as it is, all babies should come in twos.