In case you can’t tell, I love having twins. From the second I found out I was expecting two babies instead of one, I never had any doubts that it was going to be incredible. I never take for granted how lucky I was to carry my boys to full term, as I know too many others who weren’t so lucky. Humans are designed to carry one baby; accommodating two puts such a strain on your body and when I look at my boys I’m still amazed they both managed to come out of 5-foot-tall me!
Anyway, over the years I’ve seen my boys show the cutest of traits. If I give one a sweet, he’ll automatically give it to his brother; if I threaten to leave one of them at home because they’re dawdling while I’m trying to get them to pre-school for the ridiculous 8.30am start, the one who is ready to go will scream hysterically and drop to the floor to protest that I’m not allowed to leave the other behind; and some days they work together as a tag team to pull the wool over my eyes (this usually involves using their keyboard stool to climb up to reach biscuits in the kitchen while one is on lookout duty).
The negative comments I’ve had over the years (which far outweigh the positives, unfortunately) mean nothing to me – yes, it is challenging, and financially difficult (always having to buy two of everything with no hand-me-downs) but certain moments remind me more than ever how blessed I am.
When we first moved them into beds, just before they turned two, we’d usually find them cuddled up together when we came to check on them. It hasn’t happened for a while, and I’ve been sad about this because it means they’re growing up and are one step closer to wanting their own bedrooms and their own space. But last week, they started it up again and almost every night since they’ve ended up in T2’s bed together. Out of everything, I think these moments melt my heart the most.
Hop over to Mummy, Daddy and Me Makes Three to see who else has linked up!