A few months after having the twins, Frank and I were out on a mini-date, and during a lull in the conversation, Frank said, “You know, having twins wasn’t quite the poop storm I thought it would be.” (He didn’t say poop… but you know, what I mean)
And, really, it wasn’t a total poop storm. Except on the few occasions that it was literally that: a storm of poopies. Or barfies. Or whatever.
Just today, I was thinking that I didn’t want to write something my kids would be embarassed about later. But just like Carrigan cannot resist the siren song of the TV remote control, I cannot resist telling a few scintillating baby stories that I am sure will make their weddings all the more memorable.
Story #1: Everybody Poops
At some point, we realized we couldn’t both get up for every feeding, so we started taking shifts in the middle of the night. One night Frank came back to bed and I rolled over, half sleeping, and asked him how the first middle of the night feeding went.
“I got poop on my face.”
In my sleep-induced fog, I couldn’t quite figure out the mechanics of that statement. I was vaguely aware that poop just typically doesn’t go on your face. Or my face. Or anyone’s face.
In the morning, certain that I was having weirdly realistic dreams, I dismissed the memory as fiction.
But over breakfast, appropriately, Frank gave me the low-down. While changing Ellie’s poopie diaper, he dropped it dirty-side-down on the carpet. Annoyed and without thinking, he bent over to pick it up, putting his face dangerously close to Ellie’s behind. Being a gassy little love, Miss Ellie chose that moment to let a wet one loose, resulting in poop on Frank’s face.
The way that Frank tells it, there was a long pause where he reflected on the situation, absorbing the reality that it was 2 a.m. and there was poop on his face.
Story #2: Diapering 101
One night, after many nights of not getting a lot of sleep, we were bathing the girls and getting them ready for bed. Or maybe we were just changing diapers and it was dark. Or maybe we were changing diapers and it was the middle of the day. Who knows?
The important thing is that one of us (Frank) took a few liberties with the diaper changing process. Namely, he didn’t really secure the diaper to Carrigan’s itty-bitty behind.
I was sitting on the rocker, holding Carrie on my leg when it happened. It began as a subtle warming on my leg, spreading quickly. When I finally realized what was happening, Carrie had peed through her clothes, my pants and onto the floor.
Her diaper, however, was hanging around her knees and was totally dry.
Story #3: The Barfies
Our twins had reflux from the time they came home from the hospital until they were 9 months old. Seriously. You can’t make that crap up.
They barfed all the time. Sometimes, just when you would think to yourself, “Oh, it’s been an hour since their last feeding, certainly they can’t possibly get sick” is usually also the time where they would unload the motherload of vomit. So. Awesome.
I smelled barf everywhere I went for a very long time. Even now, I sometimes sniff my clothes just to make sure I don’t have barf on them somewhere.
While many people experienced the twins’ epic barfies – my family members started bringing extra clothes with them when they came for a visit- the best barfing extravaganza happened to my dear friend Eve.
Eve came over to visit while she was still 6 months pregnant with her little Josiah. Probably expecting a zen evening of snuggling babies, I don’t think that Eve really understood what was in store.
“Want to give Carrigan a bottle?” I asked her. Said another way, “Want to pull the pin from this grenade?”
Eve fed Carrigan a bottle. And Carrigan, equal to the task, gulped the whole bottle down in record time. She gave a few demure burps, batted her eyelashes, opened her mouth as if to yawn and …
BARFED ALL OVER EVE.
It went down the back of Eve’s shoulder and the front of her shoulder. It cascaded like a rancid waterfall onto the couch. It went down the front of her shirt.
And Eve, being six months pregnant, began gasping, coughing, dry heaving and generally reacting to being coated in a thick layer of regurgitated formula.
If the quantiy of barf expended by my children was directly proportional to the amount of love they feel for a person, my dear twins must love a lot of people VERY MUCH.