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!

We took the girls to the zoo for the first time at the weekend. It was a beautiful hot sunny day and we all had a great time.

G, our little nature girl absolutely loved meeting the animals. She roared with relish at the tigers and was fascinated by the meercats and prairie dogs. She waved at an iguana (Mummy and R didn't stay in the reptile house very long) and laughed at the gorillas.

R was more wary of the animals. She got quite upset when a slightly stressed-out llama charged at us as his keeper tried to catch him for an injection. As the llama loomed over his pen at the girls, G greeted him with a big smile and a HIYA and R started to cry. R preferred the quieter, gentler animals and was quite taken with the giraffes and the aquarium.

Finding Nemo has a lot to answer for. The tank with the clownfish in always has a crowd of dads shouting "IT'S NEMO!" and taking photographs while their offspring roll their eyes and slouch around in the background. The Mums tend to point out Dory for some reason and I end up having her song in my head - "My names's Dory and here's my story. I live on the reef and I don't eat beef" Argh!

We lunched in the cafe - sandwiches and drinks for four people? That'll be £18 please. We'll be taking a picnic next time. Luckily we got 2 for 1 entry so the day wasn't too expensive. The only real issue was that the girls decided that they really didn't need a nap. G power-napped for 15 minutes in the darkness of the aquarium and R had a brief snooze on the journey home. Oh and they drank so much water that we had a double wardrobe malfunction and I ended up doing two complete outfit changes during the afternoon. Blame the parents for that one.

It was a great day. G even heard rhythm in the clunky sounds of the tube rattling along and waved her hands like she was at a rave, much to the amusement of the other passengers. R adopted a more casual, 'I do this journey every day' commuter stance.

So, London Zoo has been ticked off our list. Whipsnade next I think - we've got elephants and more big cats to meet...and growl at...

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The girls started their new nursery on Monday. They did a couple of sessions of settling-in last week and have done two full days this week - Monday and Tuesday - and will be there again tomorrow.

I'm pleased to say that they haven't even batted an eyelid at the change. We went in for a preliminary meet and greet last Wednesday and within five minutes, the girls had disappeared off, leaving dh and I to fill in the seemingly endless forms, twice over of course.

G discovered the easel and paints and proceeded to daub pieces of paper, her hands, arms, face and t-shirt with her handiwork. R climbed on some large wooden blocks, played with a jigsaw and got into an argument with an older boy over posession of a buggy and a dolly. The boy was perfectly within his rights to play with it - he had it first and R simply tried to wrestle it off him. He was bigger, R lost and proceeded to sulk. Every time he wheeled the buggy past R she gave him a Paddington Bear stare. His card was definitely marked!

Their new carers are incredibly impressed at how well and how quickly the girls have got used to their new environment. They are in the toddler room and most of the children are a lot bigger than them, which I think will do them good, R in particular. They are also given the opportunity at various points in the day to go and mix with the pre-school children. R absolutely loves this as she thinks she is actually four years old! G loves having the freedom to potter around between different activities, which enables her to be creative.

Dh and I are finding life much easier as well. It is lovely to get up half an hour later, take my time getting dressed and get properly sorted out before getting the girls ready at a far more leisurely pace than any of us are used to. I just pop the girls in the buggy at 7.55am and wheel them round the corner, arriving at nursery at 8am on the dot. The girls toddle off to breakfast and I stroll down to the railway station to catch my train to work. Dh is usually around either in the afternoon or evening to drop the girls off or pick them up so I can work even more flexibly than I did before.

I guess children are very adaptable at this age. The girls have been going to nursery since they were five months old so they are used to being looked after by other people. This is also one of the (many) occasions when I'm glad there are two of them. Everyone says that changes like this are easier for twins because they have each other - a familiar face in a new environment. They don't really hang around together whilst at nursery - they like going off and doing their own thing - but they do look out for each other. This is incredibly reassuring for dh and I.

Yesterday, on a warm sunny June day my family (my parents, sister and two uncles) and I sat in a stiflingly hot hospital in Watford and watched my Nan pass away.
She was 86 and had had a stomach complaint for several months, which wasn’t taken seriously by her GP. They finally agreed to give her a blood test in April and made an appointment four weeks hence. Two days after the test she was phoned by her GP and advised to go to hospital. She took herself there, alone, in a taxi. Once admitted to hospital, further tests revealed that she had leukaemia. She was given chemotherapy tablets and was actually going to be sent home on Sunday afternoon until a specialist nurse and a social worker intervened and pointed out that even with support from a carer, she couldn’t look after herself. She was lucid and her mind was sharp but her body was failing her.
From Monday, her decline was swift. By the time my Mum and I arrived at the hospital at mid-day yesterday she was drifting in and out of consciousness. The doctors has decided that morning that there was nothing more they could do for her, telephoned my Uncle and advised him to come into the hospital as she wouldn’t see the end of the day. They removed her drip and gave her morphine and sedatives to make her more comfortable and we sat, watched and waited.
My sister and my dad joined us during the afternoon. We took it in turns to fetch drinks and sandwiches (from the incredibly inappropriately named ‘Spice of Life’ hospital canteen) for each other. We sat and exchanged news, chatting as though we were at a party at times. At intervals we would all fall silent and watch the tiny old lady groaning and thrashing about in the bed in front of us. Even at the end of her life, she was still fighting.
My Nan, had she known it was her in the bed, would have been completely and utterly furious. She prided herself on always looking her best, on being involved with everything and would have hated looking so out of control in front of other people. Small in stature, she was an extremely feisty lady, which caused problems during her life, for her and for us. It’s not appropriate to explore this now and the difficulties can’t and won’t be forgotten but yesterday, for one day, they were put to one side.
She would wish to be remembered as the lady that was whirled round the dance floor at my wedding to dh by the best man and loving every second. As the young girl that joined the Land Army during the Second World War, worked hard, dated soldiers and went to parties. The same young girl that, years later, recalled watching bombs fall on her neighbours in London. She was a wife to my Granddad, who she outlived by twenty-one years. A mother to three children. A grandmother to four children and a great-grandmother – or ‘Great Nan Win’ to R and G.
During the afternoon, she got weaker. At around 4.30pm her nurse gave her a final dose of morphine. She didn’t even flinch as the needle went in. Her breathing became more rattly and eventually she started gulping air in. The talking around the bed stopped. Instinctively, we all knew what was happening. Her breathing became shallower. My sister fetched the nurse, who checked Nan’s pulse and told us that she was going. She pulled the curtain around the bed, shut the door behind her and the six of us watched. At 5.40pm, she was gone.
My sister, ever the practical one, produced a pack of tissues and handed them round. I stepped outside to gather my thoughts and phoned dh, who had picked the girls up from nursery. I managed to tell him that Nan had died and couldn’t say any more. My Dad, sister and I went and sat outside, leaving my Mum and her brothers with my Nan. After a little while, we went back in and all said goodbye in our own ways.
We didn’t want to just return home immediately afterwards so my parents, sister and I went for a meal after we left the hospital. I had a gin and tonic – my Nan’s favourite tipple – which felt appropriate and we chatted about anything and everything.
It was a strange and difficult day and was not one I wish to repeat in a hurry – or ever again, although I am certain I will. Death is one of the inevitabilities of life and I guess the lesson to be taken from this is that life is short, amazing and precious and that we should make the most of it, for however long we have.