House of Twins

As part of his Father's Day present, I/the girls offered to take dh out for tea. He got to choose the restaurant. After a few seconds of consideration, he made his decision. Chili's.

We first went to a Chili's restaurant when we lived in Reading but it wasn't one of our regular haunts. When we moved to London and started frequenting Canary Wharf, it became a bit of a favourite. It used to be on my commute home from work so pre-girls, about once a month I would call dh on my way home and suggest that we went to Chili's for tea. We first took the girls there at the end of last year for my birthday lunch. The staff made a fuss of them and they loved the food. We also went there for dh's birthday in January, for a treat in April and with one of our friends in May.

We had visitors last weekend so postponed the meal until today. We bundled the girls into the car and drove to Canary Wharf. As we wheeled the buggies along the shopping centre at Canada Place, I mentally went through the menu and had already decided on my starter (the sharer) and main course (mushroon jack fajitas) as we mounted the escalator. As I looked up, I could see that something wasn't quite right. The neon Chili's sign wasn't lit, the restaurant was in darkness and there were yellow boards over the windows. Uh-oh.

There was a small typed sign on the door. Chili's had gone into administration on 17th June and had closed the following day. I peered through the boards and could see the salt and pepper pots on the tables and the chairs stacked up. It had closed one evening and not opened the following lunchtime.

For a moment, we stood, non-plussed. I asked dh, as it was his treat, where he wanted to go instead. He looked disappointed and with a sigh deicided on Pizza Express. It was a perfectly nice meal, with a helpful waiter in a lovely location but it wasn't as fun as Chili's.

On Friday morning it became obvious that R was NOT a happy bunny. Her temperature was well over 38 degrees and she felt boiling hot to touch. She was diagnosed with tonsilitis, prescribed antibiotics and we breathed a sigh of relief that G seemed fine.

A couple of hours later....

I telephoned the surgery and asked for an emergency appointment for G. Friday lunchtime. No can do. I explained that her sister had seen a doctor that morning, had tonsilitis and was concerned that G was going down with it as well. 'Ruth?' the receptionish exclaimed. Er, yes. Luckily our girls are quite well-known to the receptionists at the surgery and magically an appointment was found for 2pm.

Yup, you've guess it. Tonsilitis-ridden twins.

The girls were prescribed antibiotics to deal with the infection, to be administered every four hours and we were advised to give them calpol to bring their temperatures down every six hours. If the temps refused to come down, we could give them Nurofen. It became so complicated that I ended up writing out and filling in charts so that I could keep track of who had had their meds and who hadn't.

The girls adopted very different approaches to being ill. R decided that she just wanted to sleep until she felt better and kept drifting off. G decided that she was going to fight on through the pain and carry on as normal. On Friday and Saturday we had to wake R up for her antibiotics and to give her some water as she was refusing food. G was more willing to try food, but barely ate a thing.

Dh was supposed to work Friday and Saturday evening but it became clear that I couldn't deal with the girls' wildly differing needs very well on my own so he took some leave to help me out, for which I was extremely grateful, as R decided that only Daddy would do and refused to let me even hold her.

R also decided that we were trying to poison her with a lethal cocktail of strange coloured liquids and started refusing her meds. The anti-b's seemed to cause her particular alarm. G, on the other hand, has all the makings of a junkie (worringly) as she hoovers up syringes of medicine and cries if she thinks that R is getting more than her!

So far, so normal. Dh and I were tired but at least the girls were sleeping. By last night they seemed to be on the mend. The girls woke at 7.30am this morning and dh got R out of her cot. She was covered from head to toe in a blotchy, spotty red rash. It looked absolutely terrifying.

She didn't have a temperature and seemed reasonably happy in herself - ironically, happier than she had been for the last few days - but the rash looked awful. Dh took R to casualty and I stayed at home with G. Initially, the nurse thought that R was having an allergic reaction to penicillin but the doctor decided that was unlikely as she wasn't itching the rash or in pain. They decided that she had a non-specific viral rash (aren't they all? I don't remember getting them when I was young yet children seem to get them all the time now), swapped her antibiotics for a non-penicillin variety and advised dh to give her Piriton in case the rash was an allergic reaction.

Dh and I, feeling a little cabin-feverish, decided to take the girls out for tea. R was reluctant at first but after a restoratative bowl of ice cream she underwent a transformation and became much perkier. She still has the rash, but it has faded.

They should be ok to go to nursery tomorrow. I'll take the antibiotics in and get their carers to administer them - they might have more luck with R than we've had.

Although dh and I have had a relatively quiet weekend (aside from the whingeing and screaming), we both feel absolutely exhausted. It's at times like this that I'm glad we share the role of primary carer. I couldn't have looked after the girls on my own this weekend and am incredibly grateful that dh and I make such an effective childcare team.

No, your eyes do not deceive you. We have not suddenly gone forward in time three years. At the tender age of 18 months, the girls took part in their first sports day at nursery this afternoon.

R and G were both in the red team and we were told to dress them in red tops for the day. Their extensive wardrobe didn't include red t-shirts so I went and bought a couple from Boots. I subsequently realised that they didn't own shorts, or any remotely sporty clothing aside from their hoodies. Cue a trip to Primark.

So, this morning, we dressed them in their shorts and t-shirts (I made sure they had different coloured shorts) and popped their little converse on their feet. G practised her start technique - one of us had to shout READY STEADY GO! - and she would set off on the g of go, or the s on steady, depending on how excited she was. R hasn't been feeling too well for the last couple of days and looked distinctly unimpressed by the whole thing.

At 2pm, dh and I went to nursery to watch. Rather ambitiously they had marked out a short running track on the grass. I would describe the scene as organised chaos. We spotted a whole gang of children in red tops but couldn't see our two. We sat on the grass and after a couple of minutes R and G appeared. They were in the distance so couldn't see us initially and they were clearly very grumpy at being woken up prematurely from their nap.

They took part - G with great enthusiasm, R rather reluctantly - in the forwards running race, the backwards running race and the potato and spoon race. They both held the potato in one hand and the spoon in the other. They both attempted to eat the potato!

For the first race we joined the parents at the finishing line but for subsequent races we helped the girls out. Lets just say that some of the parents might have been taking it all a mite seriously and were 'encouraging' their tiny offspring with a little more gusto than was perhaps strictly necessary. Not pushy parents at all. Just concerned, obviously... (insert wry smiley here)

Of course, it wasn't competitive at all. There was no winning team. No losers. Each team had their moment on the rostrum and every child received a gold medal. R wore hers until bathtime (I think she was too tired to take it off) but G lost hers within about five minutes of receiving it.

We didn't hang around for the parents race. I didn't spot any adults limbering up but I'm willing to bet that one or two mums and dads had their running spikes stashed away in their rucksacks, 'just in case'.

Maybe I'll should get in training for next year!

R steals G's trainer, laughs evilly.

(You'll need sound on for this clip)

My Nan refused to make a will or plan her funeral because she didn't want to tempt fate. It was left in the hands of other people to plan how she should be remembered.

I hope to follow in the great tradition of the women in my family and have a good long life but in case I don't here's what I'd like to happen at my funeral:

It MUST be a celebration of my life. The mourners (party-goers) must wear going-out clothes - no black! I don't want any religious content. I'd like someone close to me (not a random vicar) to make a speech and I want it to be humorous. My chosen pieces of music are 'Moving on up' by Primal Scream, 'Feels like I'm in love' by Kelly Marie and 'Beyond the sea' by Bobby Darin. I'd like readings of 'Remember me' by Christina Rossetti and 'Funeral blues' by WH Auden. I'd like a minimal amount of flowers and would prefer donations to a charity of the attendees' choice. The wake MUST NOT be a traditional wake. No crying, no lamenting. There will be a disco with a light-up dance floor and everyone will eat, drink, dance and have a bloody good time. Remember me as I would wish to be remembered, not as a box in a chapel. Oh and if anyone writes 'much loved' or 'fondly remembered' on a card I will come back as a ghost and hide their cutlery in the freezer!

I've learnt two important lessons in the last month:
1. Be bloming grateful for what you've got because you don't know how long you'll have it for
2. Life is bigger, more precious and more important than silly arguments and falling-outs.

Right. Stop reading, step away from the computer and go and give someone a hug. Go on. Do it or I'll hide your cutlery...

We arrived at the crematorium rather early on Friday and found ourselves chatting to the head gardener. He was drawn to us by our amazing twin magnet (TM) - no-one can resist! He and his team of gardeners had made a depressing place incredibly beautiful. I had never seen so many different types of roses in one place before.

He recommended that we visit one of the little gardens on the site, where we would find a pond with fish in and a little water feature. It was a beautiful, peaceful spot. We knelt down next to the girls and watched the fish for a little while. As we left, I noticed a little sign - 'Infant memorial garden' - and although it was a warm day, I felt little goosebumps on my arms.

My Nan was old and although it is sad that she died, she was one of the oldest members of the family and therefore 'next in line'. It's the natural order of things. Death is supposed to happen to old people to make space for the young, or so they say.

We found out that the funeral before Nans was that of a 28 year old. We happened to walk by as their family and friends poured out of the chapel, many were sobbing wrecks. It was horrible to see and we didn't linger. People of our age and younger were dealing with a tremendous amount of sadness. It felt deeply unfair.

We all assume that we will outlive our parents and live until a ripe old age (that's the plan, anyway) - in fact when we're young we can't even comprehend the idea of death. It all seems so remote and we all feel bulletproof. Yet the existence of a memorial garden for babies at a crematorium reminds us that this, sadly, isn't always true.

Nan's funeral was last Friday (19th) and we took the girls along. We knew that it was going to be a strange and sad day but the girls did a wonderful job of entertaining everyone and managed to conduct themselves in a far more grown-up manner than their mother did!

My highlight(if there can be such a thing) was G chattering through the 'quiet reflection' portion of the ceremony ('Great Nan Win' would have been proud of her!) and R making a wonderful grrrrraaaah tiger noise during the vicars' speech as she flicked through her book of animals with Granddad (my Dad)!

They won a whole group of new fans and made sure that no-one could ignore them (as much as they tried to - families eh?) by being very lovely and charming at the wake afterwards. They were (and are) a credit to us all.

Bit late with this one – it’ll probably be the last monthly update I do as I missed the 17 month one completely and there’s only so much I can add each month that’s new and different now that they have achieved most of the major baby and toddler milestones.
Over the last month or so R and G’s development seems to have come on in leaps and bounds (literally). They weren’t exactly behind their peers with many things to start with, but their recent achievements have really impressed dh and I:

Physical development. They are just starting to get the hang of running, although they fall over when they get to a certain speed! R has just about mastered jumping up and down on the spot. G has all of the action but none of the lift-off. They are both very good at climbing, R in particular. G is slightly less graceful than her sister (doesn’t really live up to her name!) but they both achieve the same things in their own unique styles.

Teeth. After having six teeth each for the last six months (argh!) they have suddenly sprouted three new teeth each. So, 18 down, 22 to go (she says looking on the bright side) and they are both in pain (PAIN!) at the moment so they’ll have some more soon, hopefully.

Weight. We last weighed them at the end of May. G was 11.4 kilos(25lbs 1 oz) and R was 11 kilos (24lbs2oz).

Speech and words. After months of fretting on my part, the girls’ vocabulary has really come on over the last few weeks. They say so many words now that I couldn’t list them all. G’s favourite is NO, accompanied with a vigorous shake of the head. R’s favourite is a very loud HELLO! They also say OH NO in dramatic voices and ‘what’s that?’. G is a little mimic and does an excellent impression of me as I tell R off, copying my finger point and saying ‘NO! NAUGHTY!’.

Singing. G loves warbling along to songs on the radio and at random moments she bursts into nursery rhymes, accompanied with the appropriate actions.

Dancing. The girls have developed their own unique set of dance moves. They are difficult to describe, so I’ll try and take a video and post it up.

Animal noises. They girls are obsessed with a book with pictures of animals in it that our friends bought for them. On an average day we read it to them approximately fourteen times. Each. We took them to the zoo at the end of May to see the real-life versions and they love making animal noises. Me: what does a pig do? R: oink oink (sounds more like arf arf)! Me: what does a tiger do? G: graaaaah! R likes making the various noises so much that she shouts MORE! MORE! So we play the game endlessly.

Bedtime toys. They now have four bedtime toys each. G has pingu (now rather grubby but very much loved), a beanie Winnie the Pooh, a tiger and a Labrador. R has a zebra, a beanie Donkey Kong (I have no idea either), a giraffe and a Labrador as well. They insist on carrying them ALL downstairs in the morning, making negotiating the stairs rather tricky...

Feeding. They now feed themselves about 95% of the time and are now pretty used to using a spoon. They have changed from a sippy cup for water to a sports style drinks bottle. They still have their morning and evening milk in bottles – tut, tut!
Cross-stitch project. I can’t remember the last time I did any work on it. There’s no hurry though.
There’s actually loads more I could write, as both R and G seem to do something worth writing about every day. At the moment I’m too busy enjoying them to write everything down!

R and G have had six teeth each (four at the top, two at the bottom) for 6 months. 6 MONTHS! Freaky children!

Anyway, the fact that they are going to be 18 months old next week has finally dawned on them and in the last week they have sprouted two new teeth each and I think they have another two each on the way.

Of course, they aren't suffering in silence. G has decided to 'cope' with her pain (PAIN! PAIN! I tells you) by making a sort of groaning noise for approximately 11 hours a day and R just dribbles constantly. They both have rosy red cheeks and chins.

I suppose it's good that they are finally getting more teeth and that at least they appear to be getting them all in one go so hopefully the wailing, groaning and PAIN (did you know that the growing of teeth was a painful process?) will be reasonably short-lived.

...donations needed!

We took the girls for a foot check this afternoon and came away £30 poorer. R's feet have grown to a whopping size 5F so she needed new shoes. G's haven't grown so we didn't buy her a new pair. I can foresee this being a problem in a year or so but today G was quite happy to be out shopping and didn't notice that she didn't walk out of the shop in a shiny new pair of shoes, as her sister did.

I think we're going to have to start selling their old pairs on Ebay!