I am not proud.
I have succumbed to the "evils" of the bouncy seat and swing. They don't always deliver on the goods — last night the babies only wanted human contact — but when they do... Man, those moments are just pure heaven.
Earlier today I resorted to a trick posted on the Manhattan Mother of Twins board. Someone had asked how to feed a pair of twins simultaneously. The tips all had one thing pretty much in common — prop up each kid in or on something at the same height and then get in front of them with the bottles. Bouncy seats, boppies and sofas were mentioned as the twin-containing items. I casually mentioned this tip to Mark last night, since he is, after all, going to be doing the bulk of the childcare and then filed it away in my mind. We don't have two bouncys at the moment but I thought it was good information to have.
Well, I found out that both items don't have to be at the same exact height.
Both Aden and Hunter were fussing to be fed. Each kept fussing a bit louder than the other, knowing that the squeakier wheel would get fed first. The fussing got faster, approaching the wailing stage and bringing on panic in me. Headache increasing, I ran around prepping their bottles, getting myself agitated because I knew one of them would start to really cry when the other got fed. I had the bottles in their warmers and stood over the crib debating which twin would get fed first when I decided to feed them together if I could.
Let me tell you, I felt like a total rocket scientist when I was done. I had two fed, burped, changed and sleepy babies. Well, they would only stay asleep if they could hear the tropical rainforest, but it was a victory in my book.
However, the "rainforest" sound that accompanies these fucking things is driving me nuts, but I can hope that my children repay me for the hours that I will have to listen to this by not becoming herpetologists. I mean, I hate snakes and bugs, and besides, there is just no money there.
I feel so negligent despite my relief...
Aside: The dig on herpetologists above references a story Carl Sagan used to tell about his grandmother. When he told her that he was going to be an astronomer when he grew up, she quipped, "But how are you going to make any money, dear?"