A letter to my twins,

I care about you.  I really, really do. I would chew off my left arm or jump in front of a bus for either of you if I had to.
However, I’m going to be honest.  So honest you may be offended after reading this.

I don’t like you very much.

Eventually, I will grow to like you a lot.  But right now, I only like you a little.  On a scale of 1-10, I’m inching towards 4.

I love you because I’m your mother.
I love you because my instincts and hormones tell me to love you from the moment you are born.
This does not mean I have to like you.

There may be mommies out there who enjoy the little baby stage. I am not one of them.

For starters, sleep deprivation makes me the worst possible version of myself.
Caring for one newborn makes me tired. Caring for two newborns makes me a pyscho.
A filthy psycho at that.

Someone has to come over so I can shower.  This is a completely true statement.
Don’t feel bad though. It’s not entirely your fault I’m a stinky mommy.  If it were just you two, maybe I could wash my hair while you are sleeping.  But Neala and Lincoln don’t sleep as much as you do.  The small window of time where all four children are sleeping at the same time is in the afternoon and by then I’m done.  I would rather sleep than shower.

You’ve probably seen those sappy  diaper commercials where the cheerful mother is holding her newborn. She is smiling with content.
The mother is clean, no traces of spit up on her clothing.
The baby is also clean.  No poo bursting forth from his diaper.  No cronk in the folds of his neck because the mom forgot to give him a bath that day.
The mother’s hair is down and fixed.  The baby isn’t crying or fussing or straining to pass gas. They are cuddling in a cozy chair, and the father is standing behind them gazing lovingly at the tiny bundle of joy.

Total bologna.

Maybe we should shoot a commercial. Because at this very moment I’m sitting on the couch in a shirt that smells like spit up.  After Jackson ate, he decided to give me a present…right down the back of my shirt. Then he cried for what seemed like 128 years because he needs to poop.  My hair is in a ponytail because I’m on day 2 of dry shampoo.  (Emmy, I’ll tell you all about dry shampoo when you’re older.  It’s uhmazing.)

When I do have a moment with just one of you, I’m not usually cuddling. I’m defending.  Lincoln tries to bonk you with the remote, or Neala wants to be the helpful big sister and tie a bib around your neck, so I’m forced to go into Ninja Turtle mode.

I finally get the big kids away and you start crying because you pooped, need to burp, or spit up for the umpteenth time. Or you’re tired and can’t be awake for one more second. The worst is when one of you cries in the middle of the night.  You are both really cute. But cute jumps out the window at 2 am. After a few minutes you fall back to sleep. I spend the next 20 trying to fall back asleep.

Can you see why I only like you a little bit?
Can you see why I’m ready for you to grow up just a little?

I’ve had numerous people tell me, “Enjoy it now. They grow up so fast.”
But right now you are not growing up fast. It seems as if time has slowed down.
I make no apologies when I say this stage of my life is not enjoyable.  I’m ready for this phase to roll on out.

Despite what you feel as you are reading this, I’m not a horrible mother. You won’t understand what I’m saying until you become parents.  Your daddy and I have, and will continue to take care of you to the best of our ability.  But we are tired.  We can never get ahead.  We are so busy keeping you all alive, we can rarely do anything else. Like eat, communicate, or just sit down.

When I was pregnant with Neala a friend told me, “It’s ok if you don’t like the newborn stage.”  At the time, I didn’t understand what she meant.
But I do now.

I didn’t like the newborn stage with Neala or Lincoln. I definitely don’t like the newborn stage with the two of you. Since you were born early, you behaved like newborns even longer than average. Sometimes I think I can still hear God laughing.

If it makes you feel any better, I typically start to like my children around four months.  So, hang in there. In a few weeks you will hit four months and we can be besties. I’ll sleep more and become a pleasant person again.

Jack and Emmy, there will be stages of your life you will not enjoy. Remember, it’s just a phase. Trust God and ask Him for the patience to push through the slow days.

I wish I had more advice to give about the hard times in life.  But all four children are asleep now, so I’m going to bed.