Friday, March 13, 2009

Being Octo-mom

No, I'm not talking about the lady who just had octoplets. I’ve decided many of my problems would be solved if I were an octopus. Of course, the problem of shopping for a shirt with eight arm holes would be a nightmare, but it’s not like I can find anything in the stores now anyway! Puke colors; awful fabrics that will get pulls in them after Wyatt stands in my lap with his dress shoes on; plunging necklines that the twins will grab hold of, pull, and make some poor granny faint; slinky, skinny designs not made for real people with real bosoms; and fashions I've done and am not doing again (I saw stirrup pants the other day! No. no. no. no.). I digress. My fashion woes over trying to find a new dress for my sister-in-law’s graduation will wait for another day.

Being an octopus: I've seen on TV those wands that extend out so people can reach things on the ground without bending--that's what I need so I never have to leave my seat, only I need about a dozen of them, each permanently attached to a finger or toe so I can use them to rock the chair one baby's sitting in, shake a rattle at the other baby, deter a cat who's stealthily approaching Wyatt's muffin, turn the pages of a book I’m reading for Wyatt, type an email to a student, or snag a reluctant Wyatt when I need him to get to the bathroom in a hurry.

And since the twins started eating cereal & vegetables a couple weeks ago, I really need more hands. I forgot how much I hate this phase of learning to eat. Emerson is actually pretty good at eating solid food, and Amelia has made significant progress in just the last few days. But, I just need two hands per child—yeah, four would work: two to spoon the cereal in their mouths and two to push up on their chins to try to keep the cereal in there long enough for them to swallow it! The result of just having 2 hands? Two screaming children (mommy is WAY too slow—how dare she stop feeding one child to feed the other child a spoon-full!) and Wyatt standing around incessently repeating, “I want a bite, mommy.” For now, I’ve given up on the high chairs & am feeding them in their carseats while I sit on the floor before them. And I've resigned myself to smelling like squash, green beans, and sweet potatoes every evening.

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