I used to pride myself in having the easiest babies on the block. I’d boast of our 12-hour sleep schedule, and the 1-2 hour naps that followed throughout the day.
Granted, we went through the normal newborn “no sleep” stage (like any parent); but I used to think a rough day with baby meant fussing and crying for an hour or so.
And then, we had our second set of twins.
One of them is easy (like my others), but her replica, Eden…. Let’s just say, she is difficult with a capital D (don’t let the photos fool you).
Okay, maybe, I’m being the slightest bit dramatic.
Actually, she’s SUPER easy as long as she is swaddled, held, bounced, serenaded and her bottle awaits for her at the upmost, perfect temperature. When her eyes finally close, my mom voice starts inwardly screaming, “DON’T SET HER DOWN! SHE’S GONNA BLOW!”
Despite my inhibitions, I [ try ] laying her down, mostly because, I really want my arms back.
And BOOM. Just like that, those once-shut eyes are now glaring into the depths of my soul. As if she’s saying, “Yeah, I see you. Try to leave, and see what happens.”
Our stare-off is more intense than a Trump vs. Hillary debate, and I’m scared out of my gourd to move.
Sometimes, I can drape my famous mom robe over a chair, and fool her into believing it’s me standing there. I know, I’m a sneaky-sneaky one. #momwin
Now, I don’t pride myself in my workout capability, but MAN, can I drop it like it’s hot when I have to hide from my own baby. You’ll catch me slithering on the floor, holding my breath and praying to the good Lord above that the fake-me is enough to hold her over.
And if it’s not enough, well… You can guess how that goes.
She gives no warning whimper, just a full-fledged, blood curdling, ten-babies-in-one scream. Now, we are back to square one. Time to bounce, serenade, soothe and slither… Again.
She’s my fifth one, so you’d think I would have this crying baby thing figured out by now – not in the slightest bit. My rockin’ mom skills have been been tested, stretched, seemingly mocked, and I find myself dusting off the parenting books I previously graduated from (or so I had thought).
In this very moment – the words, “My baby sleeps 12 hours a night,” smells like rotten vinegar to me.
Eden, I love you more than life itself. But do us all a favor, and get some rest.