House of Twins

....large black bird. Black beak. Err. Oh look another pigeon!

I have no interest in birds (the feathered variety) as they have a tendency to do flypasts over my head and freak me out. G is rather obsessed with them and squeals with delight when she sees one, particularly if I have let her have a toddle around in the park and can chase them.

I feel it is my duty to educate her by teaching her bird names (we're in South-East London - it's not exactly Swallows and Amazons here) but I only know pigeon (plenty of those in London, easy enough), robin (bit seasonal) and sparrow (they are the brown ones, right?) and that's about it.

I've just found the bird identifier tool on the RSPB website: http://www.rspb.org.uk/wildlife/birdidentifier/ and it was either a crow or a rook. It was pretty big so I'd go for rook but I wouldn't risk my handbag collection on it.

Finally remembered to take the girls' reins out with us yesterday. We popped over to Bluewater after their nap, had a stroll round the shops and went to Nando's for tea.

The girls were very well behaved, apart from G's small wobbler when we confiscated her shoes as she kept kicking them off. Argh! Definitely getting them shoes with buckles next time.

We all enjoyed our meal. The girls were very taken with our waiter and indulged in some rather shameless flirting with him. He kept popping over to see them so their tactics were clearly succcessful. If only 'Would like to meet' was still on - the girls could offer the hapless daters' some tips!

After tea we decided to unleash the girls on the other shoppers and popped their reins on. They managed to walk (slowly) around two thirds of the top floor before they got tired and started trying to climb back into their buggies. They attracted so much attention that it was like being with famous people, only without the money or freebies, sadly.

I'm going to stop there before I go into smug mother overload. T'was a good day though.

Uh-oh - hello or oh dear

TA! - thank you, I want that, give me that, that's mine, have that, etc.

HIYA! - Hiya

Mmmmmmumu - Mum

Dadadadadad - Dad

Tst - Toast

Mooor - More (accompanied by pointing)

YEAH - yes (possibly)

No - shake head violently

Teddy - Teddy

Shoooosh -shoes

I dropped the girls off at nursery yesterday and overheard one of the other mums discussing her little boys' sleep with his keyworker: "He woke at 5.40 this morning. He's been waking early every day this week. I'm not used to it. I don't know what to do with him!"

5.40am? Bloody hell. I'd be whooping and cheering if G woke at 5.40am. 4.45am is her current preferred waking time, although she usually settles herself back to sleep within a few minutes and is then awake on and off until 7am. If G sleeps through until 5am we consider it to be a good night. 6am is a miracle. 7am and I start wondering whether she is still alive or not.

Making grown women cry is not normally on my daily 'to do' list. Go to Post Office? Check. Go to M&S? Check. Make sales assistant cry? Only when it's the grumpy old bat who insists on throwing my purchases down the conveyor belt and tuts when I ask for cashback.

I find it's generally best to try to avoid making people cry if I can possibly help it. The only exception I make to this is when I beat an opponent at Scrabble or Friends Scene It. I expect (nay, demand) them to be lying on the floor in a foetal ball weeping at my brilliance for knowing the word QI and that Monica once dated a guy who was so hairy he looked like he was wearing a jumper when he was naked (Season 1: The one with the candy hearts).

I knew that the news of the girls' impending departure from their current nursery (reason? My contract has ended, I'm going to be working elsewhere and they will be attending a nursery round the corner from home from the beginning of June) wasn't going to be greeted with whoops of joy (they'll miss the fat cheque I write them every month for a start) but I wasn't quite prepared for anyone to start crying.

I did the official bit first and spoke to the nursery manager privately. She was sad but fine. I asked if I could tell C, G's keyworker and all-round complete star (if I could afford to have her as a nanny, I would) myself and with permission granted, asked to have a quiet word with her. I explained that my job was changing and therefore....and she guessed the rest. She sniffed. A tear spilled out. She turned to her colleague who was also moist-eyed. I felt like the most horrible person in the world. C and G have a special bond and I'm effectively ending their relationship. Not a good feeling.

I won't miss the hellish journey to and from nursery three days a week. I will miss the girls who work there and the nursery itself which is lovely and deserves to have the two year waiting list it currently enjoys. I cna't wait until I can walk the girls round to their new nursery at 7.45am (rather than having to be in the car and ready to go at 7.15am), drop them off and take a short stroll to the station to get the train to my new place of work.

Their last day at their current nursery is 21st May and they start settling in at the new nursery the week after ready for their 1st June start. Life is going to be infinitely easier all-round. I think it's harder on the grown-ups involved than the girls. I suspect they will be completely fine. I'd better get the tissues ready on 21st May.

I'm either extremely brave or incredibly stupid because I've started taking the girls to the park on my own and letting them out for a roam.

Yes, that's right. Me, two toddlers, one double buggy, no reins (yet). Hardcore.

It would help if they toddled off in the same direction. They don't of course. R, the bolder, more confident walker of the two just walks off with no care for her sister or other people in the park. G is rapidly finding her feet (ho ho) and is magnetically attracted to pigeons (which she thinks are hilarious) and squirrels.

Ah, the Greenwich Park squirrel. A tame beast, encouraged to terrorise small children by the thousands of idiot tourists who visit the park and feed them. Argh. The GP squirrels are probably in league with the Charlton urban foxes, who leave little 'presents' on the doorstep and ransack the wheelie bins. I think I once saw one sporting a fake Burberry check bandanna as it necked a blue WKD and wrecked a flowerbed. Cocky.

Anyway, where was I? Free range toddlers. You think I would have learnt my lesson after the first time but no. I've taken them to the park three times this week and each time I've let them out and spent the next twenty minutes chasing after them. We have reins (the type that looks like a little backpack) but I keep forgetting to take them with me.

In my defence, I'm trying to wear them out (G's sleeping is better but by no means perfect) but I fear that I'm just tiring myself out. Still, at least I'm getting some decent exercise.

1. Walking. They are both confident walkers now – R is probably about two weeks ahead of G and is much more independent. G still likes having a hand to hold on to. Since they got their first proper shoes, they have walked outside a few times and now toddle to and from the car when they go to nursery. I can only manage one walker at a time so dropping them off takes longer but they love walking in.
2. Teeth. They still only have 6 each. I despair of them ever getting any more
3. Weight. A couple of weeks ago, G weighed around 23lbs and R weighed 22lbs
4. New skills. They are learning how to climb the stairs – and get back down again. They both attempt to climb on their walkers but can’t quite get their little legs over!
5. Chatting. They both say HIYA (loudly) and ‘more’. Ta is still R’s favourite word. They still babble a lot to us and each other.
6. Illnesses. R has had conjunctivitis and G had hand, foot and mouth but they haven’t caught each others’ illnesses (yet). Weird.
7. G’s sleep issues have been well-documented elsewhere. The controlled crying seems to be helping and it doesn’t feel quite as hopeless as it did a couple of weeks ago. The girls now have pillows in their cots, although they don’t seem to actually rest their heads on them very much!
8. Feeding. They are both getting better at feeding themselves with a spoon. G has all the actions down perfectly but don’t usually manage to get very much food on the spoon. They both resort to using their hands when they get bored or can’t be bothered.
9. Tantrums and biting. Sigh. R is prone to having ‘wobblers’ when she doesn’t get her way and ends up hitting or biting G or one of us. We tell her off and say ‘No, no hitting/biting’ in a firm but calm voice and sit her away from G but she doesn’t take a blind bit of notice. She just gives us a ‘Whatever’ look, sometimes accompanied with an evil cackle. I thought she was just playing dh and I up but she’s the same at nursery apparently. I guess consistency is the key, along with praising good behaviour.
10. Cross-stitch project. I’ve been so busy (and tired) that I haven’t really made any progress on it this month.
So, what’s next? More of the same I guess. Hopefully more actual words will emerge from the babble. Now that the weather is getting nicer and they days are getting longer, we’ve started taking them for longer walks so that we can get them out of the buggy and they can have a wander around. Hopefully G will start sleeping more reliably again. I’d also like them to grown some more teeth. Please.

Well we're still into the controlled crying regime, with mixed success.

On Friday night G slept from 6.30pm - 7.30am without so much as a murmur and I actually had to wake her up. This wasn't to last and we've been getting one or two 'moments' every night since but she isn't crying for very long now and we're not having to go and pacify her quite as much, so she seems to be getting the message.

I'm not going to say that it's completely better but I think we feel more in control of it now. It's a work in progress.

I've been getting out and about a bit more of late and have been able to observe the Yummy Mummy in her natural habitat - Greenwich Park.

On Saturday afternoon we had a pit-stop in the cafe near the Royal Observatory. Sitting near us were two YMs, both sipping cappucinos while their offspring (always tiny, always perfect) snoozed their Bugaboos beside them. One was offering mummy advice to the other. I say offering but bombarding is probably the more appropriate word as she rattled through colic, dummies (or not), night waking, feeding, weaning, Annabel Karmel, the value of purees and routines in just a few minutes.

I caught dh's eye (we were taking it in turns to pass the girls raisins while we wolfed down carrot cake) and did my 'are you listening to this?' face. He murmured that he was, with a grin. I rolled my eyes and as I responded to Ruth's "More more" request for raisins I tuned back in to their conversation.

The baby of the rookie started mewling (probably trying to say SHUT UP!) so she lifted it out of the pram for a cuddle. The other woman grabbed the poor creature, lifted it up and started assessing its facial features: "Oh she has your nose, your chin, your face shape and A's (presumably hubby) forehead. I've always thought that he has quite a small forehead for a man, and she's definitely inherited it". I felt breathless just listening in to the conversation.

In many ways I envy their relationship - I'd love to have someone I could meet for afternoon tea in the park - but I simply couldn't compete with their superior Yummy Mummy-ness.

R and G are getting better at the walking thing all the time, so we took them to the park on Saturday afternoon for a toddle. They had a wonderful time and were enjoying themselves so much that at one point a small crowd had gathered to watch them as they walked round in circles like drunks, shrieking with laughter.

Note to self - perhaps I should hand around a hat for change at the end of the performance? Their shoes don't pay for themselves!

On a serious note, it's one of those moments where you realise how special identical twins are to the uninitiated. It's totally normal to us but seeing two little girls who look incredibly similar toddling around must be quite a nice thing.

R is a more confident walker than G and refuses to let us help her, unless she is really tired. G is about two weeks' behind R with it and likes to have someone to hold onto as she lurches along.

I didn't think they would be walking for ages yet so I'm very proud of them.

Jeez, I'm BORED of writing about sleep. Anyway, here's days three and four of Operation Sleep:

Night 3 - G woke briefly (a couple of seconds) for a wail at 4.15am. She woke again just before 6am. Result!

Night 4 - G woke very briefly at 3.55am, 4.15am and 5.45 am for little la la wails each time - they weren't long enough to warrant intervention. She woke properly at 6am but wasn't overly upset or crying. Not quite as good as the previous night, but certainly an improvement on earlier in the week.

My current bedtime is 8.30pm, with the aim of being asleep at 9am. It's depressingly early, but means that I feel slightly more human if G has a bad night and actually half-decent if she has a reasonably good one.

Onward.

The girls have spent a grand total of 6 hours at nursery this week rather than their usual 20-odd hours. On Monday afternoon I got 'the dreaded phone call' telling me that R had conjunctivitis and that I had to collect her. Of course, this meant that I had to collect a perfectly well G and take them both home.This meant that they couldn't go into nursery on Tuesday either.

R's eyes cleared up very quickly, so armed with drops, I took them in to nursery this morning. I had just settled down to some work at my desk and got another call. G has hand, foot and mouth (no, not that one - the viral children's thing), complete with a lovely collection of blisters and sores. Apart from administering calpol and nurofen as needed, there's not a lot that can be done but I got an emergency appointment with our GP as a precaution. Apart from looking a bit like a plague victim, she's fine but apparently it incubates for up to a week before the blisters break out so she's actually been crying for a reason for the last few days. Cue lots of parental guilt.

Minor illnesses such as these are not that much of a problem in the great scheme of things and I'm always grateful that it's not something much worse. It's just irritating - I pay a fair chunk of money for the girls to attend nursery (my choice) and I may as well have spent this week's fees on crisps and cider. Plus, I've had to take quite a lot of time out of work to ferry the girls back and forth from nursery and to the doctors. Luckily I have an understanding boss but there are plenty of other workplaces that wouldn't be so sympathetic.

It also means that G won't be able to have her MMR tomorrow. R isn't showing any signs of contracting the virus yet so I'm hopeful that she'll be able to have hers, but we'll see. We'll definitely have to reschedule G's.

Before I start getting nasty comments, I know that one baby is hard. It's just that being a fully paid up member of the Twaffia gives me a different perspective on things, ok?! Have I averted the rotten tomato throwing...?

All calm now? I'll begin then.

Over the last couple of days, R and G have spent some time apart from each other. Yesterday, dh took R to the doctor to get some drops for her conjunctivitis (despite what you read, you have to get a prescription - pharmacists will not give you drops over the counter, grr) and I stayed at home with G.

Apart from a small wobbler when dh departed with R, G was fine. She helped me get dressed (I say helped - she ransacked my bedside table while I hurriedly pulled jeans and a top on), she timed a fragrant nappy for the precise moment I put a spoon of weetabix to my lips, we played with the wooden jigsaw puzzle without interference (and the usual hair pulling, head slapping, biting and general fighting) and even watched a bit of daytime television. One of those home birth programmes was on - you know the type, an incredibly hormonal pregnant woman speaking into a hand-held camera about how she was forced to have an epidual last time and now she wants to feel the contractions, feel the pain, feel the baby flowing out of her without any intervention at all. Cut to footage of said woman in the throes of birth, squealing like a stuck pig, screaming for some pain relief, being coached by a 150 year old midwife while a terrified husband cowers in the corner. I turned it over when G started mimicing the howls of agony. We found a music channel and danced around to Girls Aloud. It was fun.

Despite a 40 minute wait to be seen, dh reported back that R was impeccably well-behaved. He also remarked on how much easier it was to go to the surgery and thereafter pop to the shops with one baby in a single buggy.

Today, I took G to the doctor to double check that there's *actually* nothing wrong with her and got to test dh's words. It was all so easy. It was much easy to take a single buggy and chain it up. I only had to worry about one toddler. I could devote proper time to her. I could carry her up to the waiting room without asking for one of the receptionists' help with 'the other one'. We had a short wait. I was able to play with her the whole time without worrying about another person who might be getting into mischief. We saw the doctor - there's nothing 'wrong' with her, it's a phase, all children have them, yadda yadda yadda (which is good) - she just doesn't do sleep! Afterwards, G and I went for a little walk, did a bit of shopping. Again, it was lovely.

R had a bit of a strop when G and I left, apparently but was fine the rest of the time.

As the girls get older, dh and I have said that we'll try and arrange separate activities for them so that we get to spend time with R and G individually. I think they will benefit from it and it's a little bit of an insight into what life with a singleton might have been like.

Whatever anyone may say, I still reckon one baby is infinitely easier than two at the same time. Sorry!

You get through the first year, start getting smug and WHAM! G stops sleeping through the night and you start questioning everything again.
If we just had G and she was our only point of reference, I would be wondering where we had gone wrong. Actually, I am wondering this. How can we get it so wrong with one baby and so right with the other?
If we just had R (and in my darkest moments, at 3am during another terrible night I have actually wished for this and I of course repent in the cold light of day), we would be the smuggest parents in Britain. Sleep problems? Problems? R has slept through the night since she was about 4 months old and dh and I can’t remember the last time either of us had to tend to her in the night. When she’s tired she just...sleeps. It’s magic. I think it’s actually abnormal. Whatever. We’re grateful to have her.
We’re struggling with G and we’re not alone. Since I started writing about her sleep issues, I’ve been contacted by people who are all going through the same thing. I’m sure there are countless other parents out there who could write what I’m writing. Who struggle through sleepless nights and long days of working and tending to their children when they would rather be in bed. Who wonder what they did to offend the god of sleep so much that they bestowed a wakeful child on them. Who despair over when this seemingly interminable phase will ever end and can’t recall when they last slept for more than a few hours at a time and don’t quite believe that their child every really slept through the night.
I’m not naive. Sleepless nights are part of the parenting territory. It’s the impact they have, particularly over a long period that you aren’t prepared for.
During the really bad times, dh and I console ourselves with the fact that we didn’t have children to have babies. Babies are cute and all that, but we both see them as a necessary phase that you have to go though to get to the interesting bits, where they walk and talk and you can interact with them, go to the zoo, that sort of thing. We had babies with a view to surviving the first couple of years and then getting to the interesting bit. We’ve survived nearly 15 months.
We’ll never have to go through this time again.
When G starts crying at night and I feel my chest tightening in panic, I remind myself of this fact. It’s not a solution, merely a survival mechanism but it’s all we have.

G doesn’t sleep well. That’s a well-documented fact. Over the last six weeks or so, she’s got an awful lot worse. She sleeps through the night about once a week if we’re lucky. Recently we’ve been treated to multiple waking and last night she wailed on and off for nearly two hours in the middle of the night. There doesn’t seem to be anything ‘wrong’ with her, aside from general teething woes. The moment she gets the slightest bit of attention, she stops crying and becomes bouncy and smiley. She cries on and off, not continuously. We’ve tried having her in with us but she doesn’t want to sleep there either, leading to a very disturbed night for dh and I.
We’re back into the controlled crying regime. Last night was night two. I’m going to start writing it down (boring as hell as it is for everyone else) so that we can keep a record of what we’re doing. First, I’ll outline what we’re doing with controlled crying. From the moment G starts crying one of us watches the clock. If she is still crying after 5 minutes, one of us goes, in, pats and shh-es her, settles her down and retreats. Then we wait for 10 minutes and repeat. We’re very strict on the timings. One of us checks on her every 10 minutes until she goes quiet.
Night 1 (Sunday) – woke three times, at 10.30pm (went in once to settle her, she didn’t make it to 10 mins), 3am (brief wail) and 5am (brief wail)
Night 2 (Monday) – woke briefly at 11.20pm but went back to sleep after 4 minutes. Woke at 2am, wailed intermittently and didn’t go back to sleep until after 3.30am.
We’re going to keep persevering with this until she gets back into a decent sleeping pattern. We're also taking her to the doctors tomorrow for a check-up , just to make sure that there is nothing really wrong with her that we're not seeing.

What does R do through all this? Sleep blissfully, thank goodness.
I’ll be back with more updates as the nights progress.

Dh went round and had a chat with our neighbours this afternoon. He explained that we were having a tough time with G but that we were doing everything we could to try and resolve it. The neighbours looked 'very sheepish' apparently, said they were worried that they had heard so much crying and asked how we all were. Dh said they were really nice and asked after the girls.

However, it doesn't really excuse some of their antics. Hopefully, now that we've done the grown-up thing (rather than the wall knocking and ranting thing), the situation will improve a little. We're going to make a point of having a chat with them about it every so often, for however long this phase lasts.

Yup, that's G's new nickname.

The only good thing about her night waking is the cuddles. As we're not allowed to try and let her settle back down on her own - I'd hate for my next door neighbour to get all stressed and worried, fu bless him - she often comes in with dh and I and we take it turns to try and get her back to sleep.

She is a very needy cuddly baby, which is lovely. However, she can't even sleep quietly. She heavy breathes in a way that would make a phone pest feel inadequate. She snores louder than dh and I combined (of course, I don't snore - I merely purr contentedly...). She wriggles around like an eel trapped in a handbag In short, although she may (sort-of) sleep, we do not.

Secretly (very secretly), I enjoy the nocturnal cuddles. However, I enjoy sleeping more.

I haven't felt in a bloggy sort of place recently. G's lack of sleep is really getting us down and starting to affect everything.

Our next door neighbour has ramped up his campaign from mere wall-knocking and imitated G's wailing (rather well, I might add) at 1am on Tuesday morning. Last night she had only been crying for a couple of minutes at midnight when doors started banging next door, I heard their front door slam and a car driving off, rather fast. I think one of us needs to have a chat with him.

Thing is, I can relate to his frustration. Two years ago I would have felt exactly the same. They are in their mid-late 30s and childless. It must be incredibly annoying for them to have to put up with a wailing baby. I bet they look at each other and wonder why we can't just shut her up, calm her down and make her sleep.

We don't have those powers. I wish we did. I would love to take her batteries out in the evening and for her to sleep for 12 hours. Instead, I'm becoming increasingly anxious and am now obsessing about the girls' crying, at any time of day or night. When G was crying and he was imitating her, I could feel my chest tightening and the walls closing in. Not good.

We had one and a half nights of respite during the week (my night away on Friday not withstanding) when G slept until 4.30am one night (10 hours) and for an incredibly magic 12 hours (until 6.45 am) on Wednesday night. Well, it would have been magic if I hadn't woken at 4am and lay there waiting for G to stir, as I was convinced she would.

According to the 'smiley face sleep chart', we have had 5 good nights of sleep with G in February. The rest have been a mish-mash of all her previous sleep problem phases - not settling at bedtime, waking in the night, waking early, etc. Dh and I are functioning, but only just.

What does R do in all of this? Sleep blissfully through it, thank goodness. How can we get it so right with one child and so dreadfully wrong with the other?

The case? Teething, of course. They still only have 6 teeth each. They *should* have many more than this by now. It's so frustrating.