Monday, August 12, 2013

Two times Two (an introverted mother of twins tells it like it is)




The second my body ceases its motion, they fly to me on winged feet, stampeding down the runway that stretches from one end of this dirty old apartment to the other.  The center of their world has just plopped down on the couch and sensing the gravitational shift, they’re drawn to me like magnets. 

Then the climbing begins.  
They stand on my bare feet, the hard plastic of their shoes digging and twisting into the thin skin while they pull and push at my arms, my legs, my clothing.
“Up, up,” they say, with wide, focused eyes. 
“Ma-ma.”
“Ma-ma.”

“Ma-ma?”

“Ma-ma!”
They hunt and peck with an incessant stream of monosyllabic words, each one falling with precision and persistence.  Their words, their hands, wear away at me like water dripping on a stone, like a hail storm aimed at me and only, always, me. 
Every day it feels like I am sinking, like the swirling eddy of children at my feet – the one who clutches my skirt and follows trippingly along and the other who flings himself toward me from across the room – is going to pull me under. 
I tread water until nap-time, when precious silence falls on us all and I wrap it ‘round me like a cloak and sit huddled in its calm.  I drink it in, breathe it as it wields its restorative powers.
When they wake, crying, or smiling, calling “Ma-ma, ma-ma” I’m mostly ready again with juice and snacks and a welcoming lap.  I relish their sleepy-headed stillness, the way the one sits against me, his unmoving weight carrying the same calming effect as the silence of his absence. 
In these first few moments after wakefulness, life is enough for them, enough for us all and I soak up the contentment as they lift squat plastic cups of juice to hungry chugging lips.  I adore the pleasure with which they consume one after another of a bowl of sticky, yellow raisins. 
Then we’re off again. 

Sailing, bobbing, floating along the long and winding stretch of time that careens through the afternoon, toward the exhausting rapids and treacherous rocks of the pre-dinner-time hour.    

10 comments:

  1. you have such a lovely way with words!

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  2. I remember those exhausting rapids of the toddler days. And while I never had twins, my boys were almost two years apart to the day. There was the chasing and clawing of the toddler while nursing and holding the babe. I'm exhausted just remembering! But...as a mamma of two teenage boys now, there are days when I would trade these worries for those physically exhausting days. I guess we must treasure the moments we are in, right?

    Your boys are so adorable, Kelly.

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    1. Yes, there are times when I simply can't get enough of their adorable-ness!

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  3. I so agree with Laura, the worries of 'now' time are so much more intense than when they were tiny and in your space all the time. At least you know where they are and what they are doing. My daughter has nine year old twins, and they are busy and tiring at the same time. ENJOY your days ahead of you. Your little ones are adorable.

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  4. Sigh. No twins, but 3 babies in 4 years, so yeah. . . I remember this kind of exhaustion. And the joys of sleepy heads and cuddles. Hang in.

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  5. Tried to comment here earlier, but found you on FB instead. Such lovely writing. Best to you and those boys.

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    1. Thanks, Holli - I'm glad it resonated with you! and blessings with your twins too!

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  6. What a poetic way you have with your words! So nice to know there are other introverted mamas out there. :-)

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