Yes, they're twins. Both of them!

Everyday experiences with twins. The ups, downs and downright unexpected.

What not to wear August 30, 2011

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I have a t-shirt-type top that my husband thinks is too young for me. I know this because when I came home with it, he gave me that look that speaks volumes, and then said something along the lines of, “Isn’t it a bit too cool?”.

What he meant was, “isn’t it a bit too cool and young and fashionable for a mother of 3 who’s rapidly approaching 40”.

At the time, I dismissed his look and clearly misguided comments, and assured him I most definitely wasn’t too old to be wearing a tiny vest top with a faded image of a Union Jack and some Beatles lyrics printed on it.

However, ever since that night, I’ve been secretly concerned that he may actually have a point and so I’ve taken to wearing it only when he’s out.

For no particular reason, I took this top with me to Mauritius and one morning, feeling brave, (and ever so cool), I decided to put it on. I checked in the mirror and somehow convinced myself that I did indeed look youthful, and fashionable, and very much a yummy mummy in my oh so cool top and equally small shorts.

I headed downstairs to join twinsdaddy and the troops for breakfast, and was greeted by the blonde at the bottom of the staircase eyeing me suspiciously.

She quietly observed me before cocking her head to one side and saying,

“And what are you wearing?”, in a tone that can only have been taught by Trinny Woodall herself.

I truly thought those types of conversations wouldn’t be happening for at least another 10 years, and when they did, it would be me doing the enquiring.

Needless to say, the t-shirt hasn’t been worn since.

 

 

 

There were two in the bed and the little one said… August 18, 2011

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When we booked our holiday villa, we purposefully chose one with 3 bedrooms so that we’d all get some peace and quiet. We discovered about a year ago that the big brother and the twins should no longer be put in a room together overnight, unless of course, our intention is to keep them up all night talking and prodding each other.

This villa has 2 double bedrooms and a twin bedroom which we thought would be perfect. The big brother could have the luxury of the double bed, whilst the twins shared the twin room (how apt!).

What we hadn’t known, was that the twin bedroom is at the top of the house and the bedroom nearest the master, is another double. We toyed with putting the girls up top, but the thought of them being free to roam was bad enough, without the added danger of a flight of stairs and some not too sturdy banisters. Particularly as no doubt, they’d be making their maneuvers in the middle of the night in the pitch black.

This is the girls’ first time sleeping in anything other than a cot, so they can’t believe their luck at being able to climb in and out of bed whenever they want.

I can’t believe we thought it would be a good idea.

So, the big brother is up in the twin room alone, whilst the girls are sharing a double bed. Heaven help us.

On night one, I spent a good half an hour surrounding the perimeter of the bed with cushions and suitcases to break their (inevitable) falls.

We then positioned the pillows in two distinct areas within the bed. The left side for the brunette, the right side for the blonde.

We explained carefully that this was a ‘big girls bed’ and only ‘big girls’ are allowed to sleep in it. We also tried laying down the rules about staying in bed until morning… how they laughed when we turned out the lights.

For the next two hours they climbed in and out of bed, then came to tell us how they’d just climbed in and out of bed and could we go and tuck them in again please? It quickly became more than a little tiresome.

The novelty was just too great. When they finally dropped off to sleep, it’s safe to say they were utterly exhausted. Instead of lying neatly in their allocated spots, the two ‘big girls’ were happily entwined in each other’s arms, heads touching. It would have made a lovely photo, only we didn’t dare take one for fear of waking them.

We were woken the following morning to a now familiar phrase, “Look Mummy, we got out of the big bed!”.

Oh how I miss the cots.

 

Mauritius – Day 1 August 14, 2011

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Well let’s just say the holiday hasn’t started exactly as we might have hoped.

1. The night flight.

Waking the children at 0100 hrs was fine. They weren’t bad-tempered or overly reluctant to get up. It turned out, they thought it was morning, so they then proved highly unwilling to go back to sleep again once on board the plane.

The fact that Emirates insisted on a meal service at 0400 hrs did little to help our cause. I’d love to know of anyone who thinks a Cajun chicken mixed with creamy egg mayonnaise sandwich is appealing at any time of the day or night. I’m just assuming it was a muslim chef who created last night’s menu and was punishing all of us for not observing Ramadan fasting!

2. The rain.

We landed in Mauritius in time for a lovely wet shower, just as we stood outside the terminal building waiting to board our minibus. Soggy feet, damp toddlers and an extremely grumpy sleep-deprived 7-year-old. Just the ticket for a further hour confined in a small space.

3. The tummy bug.

After barely an hour at our villa, twinsdaddy took on a decidedly unfetching shade of yellow before proceeding to spend much of the rest of the day locked in the bathroom. Twinsmummy succumbed 12 hours later.

There were times during the next 24 hours when twinsdaddy and I wished we were back in Dubai with Joy to deal with the troops, as we literally negotiated over who got to use which bathroom. It wasn’t pretty.

This morning (Day 3) we felt brave enough to leave the villa and venture to the supermarket for supplies.

The sun is shining. The sky is blue. Even the children seem brighter.

The holiday (hopefully) starts here.

 

Happy Days August 7, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — twinsmummy @ 7:47 pm
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A reminder, if ever one was needed, that children don’t always need a TV, or Wii, or DS to keep them entertained.

A couple of days ago, we were due to meet some friends at a wildlife park outside Bristol. I’ve never been before, but understood as well as farm animals, there are also more exotic creatures such as reptiles, lions and water buffalo. There’s also an adventure playground and plenty of hands on animal demonstrations. We were all rather looking forward to it.

The night before we were due to meet, my friend called to say her eldest had gone down with tonsillitis so bang went our plan of throwing all the children together to collectively exhaust themselves, whilst we sat on a picnic rug for a bit of a natter.

This was bad enough, but after passing on my commiserations and ‘get well’ wishes by phone, a far more disturbing thought hit me. I was facing an entire day with my children, with no fellow adult for moral support and no planned activities. A hastily dreamt up Plan B was required.

I settled on a picnic at Thistledown, a nature reserve of sorts about a 15 minute drive from my parents house, aka base camp for the summer. It clearly didn’t sound anywhere near as exciting as the wildlife park, but promises of bags of crisps and cartons of juice with the picnic seemed to grab the small people’s attention.

We set off with a boot full of food, a picnic blanket and me silently praying that there would be some goats or sheep to look at after lunch and perhaps the odd ladybird for entertainment.

It’s all a bit low-key when you arrive. There’s a rather charming ‘honesty box’ system for payment, although no information whatsoever about how much you should be contributing.

Most people come for the camping. I kid you not! It’s all very eco-friendly with talk of composting toilets and a tap that delivers UV filtered spring water. Personally, I can’t think of anything worse, but there were plenty of happy campers mooching around in the undergrowth who seemed to be enjoying themselves.

We set up our picnic pitch in a small meadow area surrounded by some large stone statues. It was a bit like Stonehenge for munchkins. I’m sure the eco-warriors would have told us great tales of the complex symbolism of said stones, but for two, two-year olds and a seven-year old, the appeal was simply to climb on top of them and admire the view.

Lunch was a fairly predictably messy affair so the less said the better. I’m sure the wildlife were grateful to my daughters for the feast of crumbs and crusts they left behind.

Fuelled by our picnic we set out to roam around the 70 acres on an impromptu nature walk. For the next hour and a half, my trio delighted in spotting bees and butterflies, clambering over logs and rocks until finally, we came upon the undoubted highlight of our holiday.

We climbed over a rickety stile to find a mummy pig surrounded by nine tiny piglets. Quite simply the cutest sight I’ve seen in a long while. We must have spent almost half an hour admiring these pigs; watching them feed, watching them sleep, and the hilarious sight of them trotting off en masse to get water.

We sat on the grass and collected stones before heading home, everyone thoroughly exhausted from the fresh air and exercise.

A simple day and extremely simple pleasures. Not easily beaten.