When people find out I have two sets of twins close in age, they almost always mention something about how nice it must be for them to always have playmates. And that’s true, for the most part. They do manage to make up silly songs, act out elaborate games of pretend, and cuddle up to watch TV together, in between screaming arguments. And I do notice that they understand the concept of SHARING pretty well – because in a family of seven, that’s pretty much how it goes.
This week, they’ve been super generous about sharing their cold germs, and currently, four out of the seven of us are on antibiotics for strep throat. We’ve spent a whole lot of time in the waiting room at the doctor’s office and waiting in line at the pharmacy. (something I never realized when I was about to become a parent: just how much WAITING I would be doing over the next decade!) I had a great idea in mind to post about today, but I just don’t have it in me to write it all out, so I’m recycling a blog post of mine from a few months ago. It’s all about the whole SUPERMOM thing that so many of us twin mamas try to live up to.
One day last summer, my husband and I had been working in the yard all day and by late afternoon, I looked like pure hell. I was wearing a dirty shirt and my hair was a mess and I had NO makeup on. I was all sweaty and greasy-haired, and I had potting soil under my nails. And I got really sunburned too, so I looked just that much worse. I had to run out to the market, though, because we completely ran out of milk and toilet paper. Whoops! So, I was in line to check out, and there was a lady behind me with three kids – two boys and a girl. I noticed that the boy and girl right near me were the same height, and I asked her, “Are these two twins?” and she said, “Actually, they’re all triplets!” I hadn’t seen that there was a boy standing behind, the same size as the other two!
And let me tell ya – these three kids were SO cute. They were about 6 or 7, I’m guessing – the girl had long, pretty hair, sans tangles, and all three were in cute little outfits. They looked like an ad for Old Navy. They looked so CLEAN and shiny and perfect! And the mom, well…she was pretty hot. She was in a cute little tracksuit, with her cute little body, and her cute little hairstyle. It almost ticked me off. Will it get easier when my kids are older? Will my kids somehow manage to get bathed every day and wear outfits that don’t include pajama tops and cowboy hats and plastic high heels? Will they ever be seen in public without bedhead?
And what about MEEEE? Will I suddenly become a complete MILF? Will I find the time and money to get my nails done? Will I start working out every day so I can wear little Baby Phat tracksuits at the supermarket and not scare people with my cottage cheese ass? I just don’t see it happening. Seriously, I started thinking irrationally while my groceries were being scanned. I started thinking, “Maybe I could discreetly follow her home and then start stalking her and figure out how she manages to have well-behaved, adorably dressed, freshly bathed triplets and look like she stepped off the set of a sitcom.” She turned out to be parked three cars down from me. And her SUV was really dirty. And all crowded full of stuff. Yeah, that made me feel better. At least her car wasn’t all shiny, too, then I probably would have cried a little.
It’s so hard sometimes, when you feel like you just can’t get it together. I remember the first year of my twins’ life, I only wore makeup a handful of times – a huge change from when I used to apply mascara and put on a cute shirt before heading out to Target. As my kids have grown older, though, it HAS grown easier. I’m still not the hot mama at the supermarket with the perfect children, but the older they get, the more often I get to be Laura, Friend to Drink Cocktails with at Book Club, instead of always Laura, Mom of All Those Children. I’m still in here somewhere.