As a parent, having a favorite is frowned upon.
Oddly enough, since the twins arrived several people have asked me which one is my favorite. I smile and tell them I love all my children the same.

But that’s a big ol’ lie.

Truth is, I do have a favorite.  If other parents tell you they don’t have a favorite child they are lying. They sit on the throne of lies and smell like beef and cheese. (If you haven’t seen Elf, you won’t understand that last joke.)

Out of all four kiddos, Lincoln is my favorite. If I passed out a gold star at the end of the day, Linky would be the well deserved recipient.

Now before you get all worked up and offended, let me clarify.

Lincoln is my favorite right now. It could easily change next month, next week, or even tomorrow. You see, my favorite child is a moving target.

Neala, you are two.  In typical two fashion, you are dramatic, defiant and fiercely independent.  If I had a dollar for every time you smeared something on your face, then refused help cleaning it off, I could retire at 40.
You wake up at 5:45 am and feel the need to come in our room and tell us you’re awake.  *insert numerous crying emojis here*

The other day you were trying to boss Lincoln around.  When he wouldn’t cooperate, you came and told me, “Yinkun not yistening to me.”  I told you he didn’t have to because you were not his mother.

Now when I discipline you, you run around the house pointing your finger at me yelling, “Mommy, you’re not my mother.”
Sorry Miss Sassafras, you are not the favorite.

Jackson, you are a bobblehead. No, really. Your head bobbles around because your neck strength is minimal. You lack any and all motivation in every area except eating.  You want to eat and sleep all day.  Then in the middle of the night, when everyone is asleep you want to eat some more.  Emmy is smaller and can sleep longer stretches than you through the night.  What’s the deal Jack?
This means you cannot be the favorite either.

Emmy, you are high maintenance.  You have reflux. Which is rather sad and I do hate to see you uncomfortable.  Having said that, you are still high maintenance.
You have to be vertical after you eat.
You spit up. A lot.
It comes out your nose and you scream like a crazy person.
If your paci falls out of your mouth, you scream some more.
When you’re gassy, you scream in an octave I didn’t know was possible.
You’re not a bobblehead though, and have way more neck strength than Jack. So that’s nice.  But all this high maintenance business takes you out of the running for favorite.

Lincoln.  My handsome, sweet Linky Link.
At this point in the game, you sir are my favorite.  Keep in mind, whoever sleeps the most tends to win the prize. And right now, you sleep the most and fuss the least. You eat whatever we put on your plate and only fuss for a few seconds when we wipe you off.
You follow Neala around the house and let her put stickers and hair bows all over you. She bosses you around and you take it like a champ.  There is a smile on your face 90% of the time and when guests come to visit, they always comment on how sweet you are.
You’re only saying a few words.  (Daddy, bubble, bye-bye, uh-oh, etc..)
I’m sure the fact that you can’t sass mommy yet has something to do with your status.
You also sleep through the night and take two awesome naps a day.  Winning again.

Ironically, mommy fights off the most guilt about you.
Because you are so laid back and chill, it’s easy for mommy to get busy with the other kids.  Half the day goes by and I am so distracted with feeding the twins and taking Neala potty, I suddenly realize I haven’t played on the floor with you at all.

Enter mom guilt.  Major mom guilt.

The good news is, you don’t seem to mind.  In fact, sometimes I try to play with you and you walk away.  You’d rather play with Neala, or climb a piece of furniture.

All this makes me think about God, and how I view our relationship.
I grew up learning God loves all of us the same.  He has no favorites.

Yet, sometimes I think God loves other people a little more than me. Or maybe loves me less when I’m not acting very “Christian”.

If I’ve had a hard day and lose patience with Neala.
When I’m sleep deprived and speak sharply to daddy.
Surely, I’m not one of God’s favorites if I’m a grump with a short fuse.

It’s easy to get caught up with taking care of the house and all of you.
I forget to thank God for healthy children, or for the friends and family who have helped us so much the past few months.
I can’t be on God’s favorite list if I don’t even thank him for what I have.

But that’s a big ol’ lie.

God loves me the same. No matter what.  He probably loves me extra when I’m a crab apple.

As the four of you grow up, I want you to know and feel my love.

I also want you to know and feel God’s love.

He will love you when you’re disobedient children, know-it-all teenagers, and conquer the world college grads.
He will love you when you do right, and especially when you do wrong.

Mommy loves you. A lot.  But God loves you more.  He will never love you less when you make poor choices.  He won’t love you more if you do everything perfectly.
He loves you unconditionally.  You are all his favorites.

I guess that’s why He’s God, and I’m not.
Cuz I still have a favorite.  😉

Neala, Lincoln, Emerson & Jackson,

July 8th is a special day. Today is the day Aunt Kimi was born.
Only I have to tell you, Aunt Kimi isn’t really your aunt. Or mine.

We call her Aunt Kimi because she’s framily.

If you google the word framily, this definition comes up the most:
“a new social group underpinned by the principle that good friends are the family that we can choose for ourselves”. (macmillandictionary.com)

That’s a fancy pants way of saying some friends are like family.  This is exactly what Aunt Kimi is to us.

I don’t remember when I first met her.  I just know she’s always been around.

Neala, when you were born Aunt Kimi offered to help watch you when I went back to work. Let’s see. A reliable friend. Who will drive to my home. And watch my child. For FREE.  Ummm….yes please.

She showed up every Tuesday and Friday for the entire school year, ready for diaper duty and playtime. Throughout the day she would send me pictures of the two of you playing or singing.  Knowing you were in good hands made this new mama’s heart happy. She quickly earned the title, “The Poop Whisperer” when Neala had some trouble, well…you know.

In 2014 Kimi and her family suffered a great loss.  Her first grandson passed away after only a few days. Assuming she would want some time off, I started to make arrangements for other sitters. I was shocked when she told me she wanted to come. Heartbroken and grieving, she came and held my baby.

In the fall of 2015 Kimi walked through more loss. Again, she chose to come be with Neala and Lincoln.  Daddy and I were humbled and amazed at the strength she had and love she displayed to you both.

Fast forward to today.  Two houses, a new job and four kids later…

Aunt Kimi is still driving to our home.  Still singing and playing.
Still whispering the poo out of all of you.
Still bringing joy to our hearts and our home.

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…