These twins are really kicking my ass at night.
Every three hours… I change them, nurse them, give them a supplemental bottle (which they need), change them again, lose their pacifiers, find their pacifiers, swaddle them and get them back to sleep. Then I close my eyes for three seconds and it starts all over again.
The nights feel so long and overwhelming. It’s just me, the twins and the Kardashians. Or if the Kardashians are unavailable, I watch movies like “The Hangover,” “Knocked Up” and “Reality Bites.” I think I’m still in love with Ethan Hawke circa 1994. The sex appeal of a cool, grungy guy with no job is just timeless.
Most of the time, I feel like I am in a total daze. Like just today, I locked Rick in the basement. There was an odd banging noise coming from down there and my first thought was, “The raccoons are seeking some kind of revenge for their fallen comrade” but then I realized it was just my husband.
“Honey, you locked me in the basement,” he said upon his release.
“Yeah, sorry. I forgot you were down there,” I explained.
“You literally saw me down there one minute ago.”
“Honey, I just gave birth to two children. I don’t have the energy to remember your whereabouts at all times. You’re lucky you didn’t spend the afternoon in the basement.”
Some people are so ungrateful.
And I’m not the only one who’s exhausted.
Rick attempted to put toothpaste on his face the other morning, in lieu of sun screen.
And when we ran into some friends in town, he introduced the twins as, “Chad and Harlowe.” He never even realized his mistake which means he’s super tired or maybe we did name our son Chad and I’m just out of the loop. I’m going to follow up on that. When I have the energy.
A lot of Rick’s family visited us this week. Here’s my favorite picture….
Rick’s grandmother with Chase. Or Chad. We’re flexible.