…moves both slowly and way too fast. Husband and I have relearned how to function on four hours of sleep…kind of. The Wonder Twins are doing their baby thing — they chow every two to three hours and then need ten to thirty minutes of burping, which means I’m not exactly getting to the dishes. (One is on the bottle as I write this.) I try to multitask as much as possible — feeding them at the same time is easy (unless I’m really sleepy then the bottle ends up in their neck instead of mouth. They bleat to keep me in line); simultaneous-burping is an altogether different matter. Sometimes, I manage to line them up on one thigh and let them drape over one arm (this will only last while they’re tiny.) After three ER trips, two hospital stays, three spinal taps between them, the Wonder Twins need a lot of cuddling, which means we’re not exactly getting to laundry — and this is even with amazing help from my folks (stormtroopers) and good friends (more stormtroopers).

So what’s my point, other than to complain? I guess to note that the early baby days are really, really hard, but we’re pulling it off somehow. When it’s my shift and all three kids are crying, I’ve learned to slow down — you can’t let it get under your skin — and carefully proceed to address everyone’s needs, one at a time. (This makes me curious if I’ll better able to handle office stress, when a thousand obligations bounce on my head at once.)

But I’m also writing to mark this time. I miss my mind. I miss days where I could blaze through a to-do list, but those days will come back and since I have a bad memory, I will probably forget all this.

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