The Week Where Everything Changed

Camila, you haven’t been writing as much lately. Yes, I know.

In a week, we went from having a nice little routine, predictable nap times that would last more than 15 minutes (almost 2.5 hours, to be exact), more time to myself, sanity, and a somewhat organized living room to two babies crawling, getting into the dog’s food and water bowl, following my every move like shadows, grabbing and lunging at my legs, and standing up in their cribs.

Yes, that’d be Lydia standing in her crib during “nap time”.

In a nutshell, everything has been thrown out of whack.

Whoever said “it’ll get easier after the first year” needs to be high-fived. In the face. With a chair. Repeatedly.

On one hand, I’m beyond excited and proud of these two munchkins. We were originally told to not expect crawling or standing until after their first birthday – yet here they are, 13 days away from turning one and they’re on the move and pulling themselves up.

On the other hand, I’m not having a great time. They constantly throw themselves at me, grab my pants, accidentally grab my boobs while I’m sitting with them (OUCH), pull my hair, slap my face excitedly, scream bloody murder if I walk away from them for one minute, and just want to completely attach themselves onto my person.

On the third hand I wish I physically had, I’m finding myself in the same emotional state I was in when the girls came home from the NICU. The “they’re not my babies” state. When they first came home, I’d cry and cry because they didn’t feel like they were my babies – they weren’t tiny anymore, no monitors, no incubator. Don’t get me wrong, I was super relieved they were home and thriving, but it felt weird for the first month or so. I’m in the same boat right now. These aren’t the babies who are struggling to sit up by themselves anymore. These babies sit up, crawl, reach, pull up, and stand unassisted. They’re wearing 12-month clothing, they weigh more than my friend’s full-term baby who was born a day before them. They babble, and River says “good” and “doggy” now. They understand the word “no” and recognize their names perfectly. Lydia has one tooth while River has two coming in. Where are my tiny, developmentally stalled babies?!

They’re stuck in last week, I guess.

And things will only change more from here – starting on December 27th, they’ll be going to a small at-home daycare 9 minutes from our house 3 days a week, and I’ll be going back to full-time yet again. They’ll be interacting with other kids, which will only entice them to walk and copy the older kids. I’m not in love with the idea, but it’s what we have to do right now since we don’t have anyone who we can rely on watching the girls 3 days a week (our babysitter, Emerson, got a job and we can’t find anyone else). I’ve always been neutral to change since I’ve gone through a heap of it in my life, but this is the kind of change that is bothering me for the first time. But that’s ok, and I’ll be fine.

I can’t even imagine once they do start walking.

Send wine, folks. Send lots of wine.

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