Jackson and Emerson,

Everyone wants to hold you. See you. Look at your pictures on social media and say things like, “Aren’t they sweet?”, and “How precious!”

People just looove twins.
I love you. I do. But this doesn’t means I love everything that accompanies twin mothering.
Here is what I’m calling the “Not So Sweet or Precious” Twin list.

1. Diapers.
Buying a pack of 40 and knowing it will only last 2 1/2 days. Sometimes only 2 days because when Jackson poos it’s like an oil spill I can’t stop and you go through two diapers in what is supposed to be one change.

2. Feeding schedule.
My veteran mommies of multiples friends all advised: “When one eats, the other eats.” Which makes absolute sense. Otherwise I would be feeding babies for all the hours of all the days and never get any rest. Nevertheless, it’s hard to wake the other one up at 1 am when they are sound asleep. Especially when the other one gags, snorts, spits up, won’t burp and nearly chokes at most feedings. I won’t mention any names, but her initials are Emmy Doyle.

3. Exhaustion.
It hits a level I didn’t know was physically possible. I’m so tired I misspelled exhaustion just now. I’m so tired I can’t remember if I showered today. (I didn’t.) I forget what I’m doing in the moment I am doing it. I’m so tired I spell “your” when I should spell “you’re”. (Insert a horrified teacher gasp here.)

4. Laundry.
Thankfully it is summer and you don’t have to wear socks. So I don’t have to spend half my life sorting socks and looking for the one sock that always seems to fall into the black hole of laundry.

5. Car seats.
Where am I supposed to put them? There are two. And they’re not exactly small. We have yet to find a suitable place in the house. Kitchen counter? Eww gross. On top of the washer and dryer? This works out pretty well. Until I need to do laundry. Which is All. the. stinking. time. They usually end up on the floor in the “formal” dining room. But then Lincoln tries to climb in them. Or Neala puts her babies and Donald Duck in them and then whines until we help her buckle Donald. By the way, there ain’t nothing “formal” about a family with 4 small kiddos. The room has evolved into the play room/catch all/storage room.

6. Worry.
Most mothers I know worry about their babies. Are they reaching milestones? Are they eating enough? Are they pooping enough? Are they pooping too much? Should the poop look like that? Will my kid have friends when they go to school? Will my child end up in therapy because of me? You know, normal mommy questions. After I feed you in the middle of the night, these questions run through my head. Times two.

7. Photographs.
You’re both ridiculously cute. I mean, it’s not even fair to the other babies of the world. (I’m sure my mommy colored glasses aren’t affecting my view of you at all.) Two cute babies means developing two sets of photos. Which means I am spending waaaay too much money on Snapfish. I made a scrapbook for Neala and Lincoln. So in all fairness, I must make one for you both as well. In all my spare time of course.

8. Crying.
There’s really nothing like being jolted awake by a crying baby in the wee hours of the night. Your screams pierce through my ears and my body instantly jolts up out of bed. Motherly instinct at its finest. Sometimes I jump up so fast I get dizzy halfway down the hall and have to grab the wall. I can’t explain how it feels to women who have yet to become mothers. I secretly laugh inside knowing it will hit them like a brick to the face one day. When you were born, I thought I knew what to expect. Uhhh…yeah right. Two screaming, hungry babies at 3:30 am is brick pie.

9. Guilt.
Jackson, you are laid back and eat like a pro. You almost always burp like a man and go back to sleep.

Emmy. Oh sweetie. Just bless your heart. Bless, bless, bless. You are not laid back. Every time you eat, I feel like it’s your first time eating. As if you have no idea what to do. It takes us eleventy seventy years to burp you. You spit up and it comes out your nose. Cue crazy loud screaming. All this to say, Emmy tends to get picked up a little more lately. Which makes me feel guilty that Jack isn’t getting enough attention. It also makes me highly irritated at Emmy. Cue more mommy guilt. I can’t even begin to talk about mommy guilt in the other 128 categories.

10. Stuff.
For two tiny humans who take up approximately four square feet of space, you sure do need a lot of stuff. Two cribs. Two bouncy seats. Two Boppies. Two Bumbos. We have a changing table in our living took for crying out loud. I did draw the line on a swing. I refused to buy/borrow two swings. They are bulky and annoying and the big kids never liked them much anyway.

Mommy is a very tidy person. You will learn this very quickly as you grow. I like things organized and put away. If I’m ever exiled to a deserted island and can only take one item, I’m taking my label maker. Seriously. It has been very hard for me to see our home in disarray. Oh sure, I have the hand towel that says, “Excuse the mess but the kids are making memories.” I hang it on the stove and say it out loud. But I don’t mean it. I want my kitchen counters back. And the rest of my house.

Wanna know the best part about this “Not So Sweet or Precious” list?

Most of these things are temporary. I keep telling myself it’s only a phase. Things won’t always be this way.

You’ll start sleeping through the night. Which means I will too. (Please sweet baby Jesus, let this be soon.)
You will grow out of the infant seats.
I will force the older kids to help me with laundry.
Eventually  Jack’s poo will firm up and the diaper count will drop considerably.

Oh sure, I’ll still worry. I’ll still print way too many pictures.

And I will still absolutely, totally and unconditionally love you.

I may even consider taking you two instead of the label maker…