Aside from being a blood drinking, puppy sacrificing heathen (note the sarcasm for all my literal minded friends), I am also a mother. I have an eleven year old stepdaughter, a son who is three and will be four on October 6 as well as twin girls who are 2 and will be 3 September 11.
Being mother of twins is a challenge. For me, that challenge is compounded by the fact that my son is only 11 months younger than my twin girls. For all intents and purposes, I have triplets for 1 month out of the year.
A few weeks ago, I found out that the cutoff date for preschool is September 30. This means that my son will not be going to preschool this year as planned. It also means that all 3 of my babies will start school next year. Although my floors and walls will be cleaner, the cat will no longer suffer from impromptu baths and I will have time to think…even write during the day, I’m not completely okay with it.
I suppose I wasn’t prepared for the growing up of my babies. When they were newborns, I would say: “If only they would sleep through the night…” Then they did, and I slept soundly but I was completely unaware that they were growing still. They grew and grew and started walking and talking. I spent two consecutive years navigating the terrible twos, have endured endless temper tantrums and changed approximately 2,000 diapers.
Now I have to face the fact that my babies are all potty trained, can dress themselves and in 1 year, they will be leaving me for 8 hours a day! It’s a bittersweet realization, really. I am reminded, when my oldest twin exclaims “No mer diapers” (she talks with a southern draw for some reason), that in the near future, I will be doing triple homecomings, triple proms and possibly even triple weddings.
I am also reminded that one day, when my stepdaughter is in college, that all three of my little babies will graduate high school and leave home together. The plan at that point is to sell my house (providing I actually own one) and travel with the Renaissance Faire. Despite this, I cannot look forward to it. In an odd way, I know that I will miss the fingerprints on my windows, the clothes on my floor and the endless rolls of toilet paper decor.