1+2 vs 2+1

First off, thank you to the lurkers who took pity on me and hit 'follow' after my sad cry for help last post! And thanks also to my long-time readers who did the same because they had me in their Google readers but weren't followers. You made my day! Piglet sends you a big, wet kiss.

Back to business...

When I found out I was pregnant with twins, I found myself wishing that we could've done this in reverse - twins first and then a singleton. (A chorus of "beggars can't be choosers" just rang through my head.) I'd heard from so many twin parents that had had another child later, that their singleton was *so* easy in comparison to their twins and it would've been so much harder to have one and then add twins to the mix. I know they didn't mean to scare me, but I'll admit, it was intimidating to say the least. Piglet was not an easy baby and the thought of adding two more demanding shriekers to our just-starting-to-quiet-down home left me shaking in my ballet flats.

Don't even *ask* how Mr. K was coping with the the pending reality. Twasn't pretty.

But now that the Twinks have been here over a month, I can honestly say that while I'm probably in the minority, I am so glad that we had Piglet first and then added the Twinks to the pen. I'm sure you're all scratching your heads and wondering why.

I'll tell you why.

Are you sitting down?

Do you have a glass of water nearby?

Because I don't want you to start feeling faint from the forthcoming admission.

Ready?

Steady?

Here goes: I'm glad I had one plus two instead of two plus one because...

I'm a leetle on the ocd, high strung end of the spectrum when it comes to parenting. There. I said it. Having said that. caring for twins AND being a first time mom is likely to have turned me into a total NUTTER.

I know this is completely shocking to you all.

Who ME? High strung? Picky? Still puts onesies under my two year-old's tee shirts because I'm worried he'll catch a draft?!

*I* would've been a big dose of CRAZY if I'd had twins first?

No, really.

Shocking.

I know.

Now take a sip of water. You'll feel better.

Anyway, I had a realization last week as I solo parented the trio. G was on the changing table getting not only a diaper swap but a complete wardrobe change too. Piglet was running circles around me and demanding more juice, while P (who was fed, clean and swaddled) in the bouncey seat started crying the loudest most frenetic cry I'd ever heard from him. Wah! Wah! Wah! Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Now had I been a rookie, being there, in the eye of the storm, might have rattled me.

But instead I just started laughing while assuring P that I'd be there in just a minute, that he was just fine.

And you have to admit, laughing is better than crying.

Because crying usually ruins your makeup.

That is, if you're wearing makeup.

Which I was not.

(Those of you that know me well may need to take another sip of water at this point.)

So I laughed a little while my child screamed his head off.

Damn, that sounds worse than it was. (I'm a MONSTER!!!)

In fact, it wasn't bad at all. It was just 48.9 seconds of screaming for P before all was right in his world again.

It didn't bother me in the least. I wasn't rattled, I wasn't stressed. I was just finishing taking care of one baby after another.

No worries at all, everything was fine!

(Who IS this person?)

Forget the water, have some vodka.