We like it here.

We interrupt your regular scheduled programming.

Snort’s poop had a fair bit of sweet potato in it this evening. So all that leftover gagging after the big hunk came out? Apparently it was his way of saying, ‘Fuck, moms, there is something that is definitely not milk going down my throat. Help a baby out, yo.’

Coconut has not pooped in a good few days, so haven’t been able to examine her spoils of modern foodcraft. No doubt she’ll manage to back out the World’s Biggest Poo tomorrow during a particularly inconvenient time.

Stay posted.

Foodie updates: Coconut is dating a certain piece of carrot. She liked it so much she picked it up twice on her own – and this is a girl who likes food to be handed to her. She sucked and chomped on that carrot with impressive gusto. Snort was more into the brocolli. He kept sort of patting it, and picking it up by the ‘hair’ and just staring at it.

I missed their first course of bananas and cucumbers as I was asleep.

Shoot – baby crying. Gotta go.

Big weekend…and baby led weaning, take one.

We’ve reached the magic age, just a few days shy of six months. Last night I felt all emotional (even before the subject of my last entry!) and thinking, Wow.

They have co-slept with each other since birth. They are now too big to share a cot, and so tonight they move into their own cots – in their own room, since our room is not big enough to accommodate two cots.

Today is also another milestone – we have started Baby Led Weaning. Lunch was roasted sweet potato and courgettes/zucchini. (We’re opting to stay with veg and fruit for the first few weeks.)

Snort accelerated like WOAH. Started out with his hunks of sweet potato and courgette, banging around on his tray, looking with interest at the food. He went from this to realizing he had the ability to pick the food up, to realising he could put the food into his mouth, to taking a giant bite of the sweet potato! It was fast, and surprising. I don’t know that we expected him to really be into food at all.

That bite of sweet potato? Yes, it triggered his gag reflex. Before it did, though, little honey chewed and chewed on his mouth full of orange stuff, looking very perplexed. He slowly started to push it back out with his tongue. Then most of The Giant Bite was hanging out of his mouth, while he continued to chew on the bit hanging around inside. He gagged – wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be, but maybe that’s because I saw the food already coming out. He threw up a bit of his milk feed as a result of the gagging, but only a bit. Didn’t seem to bother him at all.

He gagged even once the food was out, and I think it had to do with the fact that he was so caught off guard by the whole thing!

Coconut was just like we expected. She needed a bit of help to get her fingers on the food (yes, I know, never hand a baby food, cardinal sinners are we), but once that sweet potato was in her hand? She popped the food right into her mouth and had a good lick/suck/chew on it.

She also scraped her fingers along the courgette and effectively managed to get the ‘meat’ out, which she stuck in her mouth. Every time she messed with the food, she put her hand in her mouth and licked/sucked it clean. Girl knows what she’s doing, and that is just what we expected.

Both made it clear when they were done. Don’t expect much food, if any, was swallowed, but they had fun. The baby led weaning mantra is before age 1 it’s just for fun. They still get all their nutritional needs met by milk, so they are going to be able to explore food at their own pace.

Dinner is banana and cucumber, yum yum. Expect the banana will be fun!! I hear it stains everything black and looks like worms in the poop. Delish.

Today was also nice as after lunch was done (fuck, were we hungry. With one thing and another, we only ate what they did. Baby led weight loss, yo) we went into town to mail a few things and take a walk. In a certain high end department store there were what seemed like hundreds of babies in pushchairs. Parents were getting stuck in aisles, leaving their prams/babies at points to check shit out, babies were screaming – all I can say is thank the lord for babywearing. It really does make it all easier.

Now, I’m off to cuddle a sleeping bunny big boy.

Postscript: the other milestone? I cut their toenails today for the first time since birth. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have waited this long…

Please help me stop feeling so upset all the time. I don’t know if I can do it alone.

Need to go back and reread all the comments you guys wrote about cutting off contact with your parent – particularly when you have children. To be honest, I was surprised there were so many other people in ‘my’ situation. Pleasantly surprised – not that I’m happy anyone else has a fucked up parent, but that the struggle I go through is not on my own.

TMD and I are in debate right now.

Blondie, my younger sister, just called. She mentioned that she had said to dad (makes me feel queasy to even write ‘dad’) that he needed to be the bigger person. He said he had not sent the babies anything for Christmas yet.

Hi, it’s February. What are you waiting for, the anniversary of their first Christmas?

Blondie said he said, ‘Well, Existere hurt my feelings.’ I think this is because he felt we didn’t really want to see or spend time with him. Well, why would he expect we would? We have not had a positive relationship since I was 13 or 14 and caught him cheating on my mother. Even before then, he was an abusive drunk who often moved in and out of our house. He hit me, he hit my mother, he ruined our family. (Thank god that family ended, though, because in Bear – my step-dad – I have found the father I always wanted.)

He wanted us to drive two hours to his house in massively snowy conditions with TWIN INFANTS and stay with him for a few days. Yes, like I want to pack up crateloads of shit, drive through a blizzard, and spend time away from my real family and friends to stay with people who I have no positive contact with.

Why would he feel he was owed that? I feel I went out of my way to meet with him, even offering the idea that he rent a hotel room so he would have a chance to spend quality time with his first grandchildren. His response? To yell at me, to tell me he couldn’t take a day off work, to tell me his partner wouldn’t be coming at all. Then to meet us for a short lunch, paid for with money he has stolen from us. Classy bastard.

We are debating all of this, and part of me thinks, What the fuck is wrong with me that 2% still wants to hold back, to give him another chance? How many chances have I given him? How many chances am I willing to give him to break the hearts of my sweet children?

I wrote this but did not send -

Sorry to hear your father died, but I do not understand why you did not tell me this has happened.

As a parent, Snort and Coconut are my priority. Every action I take impacts them. I cannot imagine a time when I wouldn’t bother to let them know something this monumental.

I think because they are my priority, I am also thinking about whether contact with you is good for them. This was their first Christmas on this planet and you did not even give them cards. I do not want them growing up the way I have grown up – you always sending my birthday cards late, if at all, etc. Never calling, never visiting, never offering any support in any way. They deserve better.

As their parent it is my job to protect them from hurt. They do not need a grandfather who does not take even a day from work to meet them, who doesn’t send anything for their birth for months, who does not acknowledge Christmas. They are too little now to feel rejected and confused, but they will not be babies forever.

So I suppose I am taking the responsibility you never did and trying to protect my children.

The bit in bold was added later, and then I thought, Fuck, what if the impossible happens and he offers to come visit? That is my worst fucking nightmare.

TMD said it sounded like I was saying, ‘This is what is wrong, and this is how you need to fix it.’ Leaving the door open, in other words.

So then I wrote this:

I have been thinking about what is best for Coconut and Snort, and I do not think you are it. Please do not contact us in future.

…But did not send it. TMD thinks the best option is to just never respond if he does bother to call. She does not like confrontation. To be fair, this is pretty much what happens anyway.

My sister gave him an ultimatum and suddenly he joined Facebook, flew out to City By The Sea to visit her, etc. I have given him ultimatums and they did not work. I do not want to give another one. I have cut off contact in the past and it did not work longterm, he just ignores that I have asked him repeatedly to leave us alone. But I always feel best in the months or years that I do not have contact with him.

I think he blames me for everything. He immediately put everything onto me – I didn’t go out of my way with the babies to see him, etc etc. He fails to accept responsibility for anything, or even understand why sometimes things are his fault.

To just ignore him feels to me like I am letting him win. Like I am giving him the easy way out – ‘Oh, she never calls. She never visits.’ It also leaves the door open because he wouldn’t know that contact was cut.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I am brave enough to really try to end it, and that is because of the babies. If they were not here, he would be out. The only reason he ever got back in is because he was so interested and supportive during my pregnancy.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Help me, even if it is only to say that you wouldn’t know what to do, either. Or to offer a virtual hug. Or to, you know, compose the email for me.

I don’t know why I am concerned about letting him feel he’s won. The reality here is that neither of us wins. The reality is how to shield myself from the hurt that is here again, because now he hurts me times three.

Snort and Mummy, laughing in a tree.

Snort has a balloon thingie that plays ‘It’s a Small World’ over and over again. It also has a bear that appears to be hanging itself, which is at the end of the cord you pull to make this thing play music. Anyway, TMD has been going a little crazy at night with the old Small World booping and dooping. Snort loves it.

See:

He adores her.

Her body brings me joy, too.

My daughter stuns me with her naked beauty.

Her confidence, her knowing. She likes me to kiss her tummy, she laughs when I blow farts on it. She lifts her legs till her toes point at the ceiling, she turns her face towards mine, and explodes into joy.

Her thighs, so soft and creased, are probably one of my favourite things about her body. She knows her body is there, it serves her purpose (letting her roll over, giving her fingers to flare and be stared at, a thumb that likes to be sucked), it brings her joy. She loves kisses on her neck, fingers run through her short hair, fabric to hug and hold close to her cheek.

She is happy, happy, happy naked. She likes to look in the mirror, she smiles at herself and me. I can’t help but smile back.

This little girl, this 25 week marvel, loves herself in a way that many 25 year old women wish they could. Coconut was born loving herself; I hope she does not forget this somewhere down the road.

I learn so much from watching her just be herself.

New twin babywearing blog!!

I’ve started a ’specialist’ babywearing blog – one focusing on wearing more than one baby at once. It’s a slow work in progress, but I plan to have step-by-step guides, pictures, and how to videos posted there. Yes, you will see my face and hear my voice over there. Still no real baby names, though! (If you want to know, ask. Twitter is probably the easiest way. I’m @existere).

I think it will also be useful to singletons, as I plan to also show how to solo wear – as it’s just easier to tandem if you already know what you’re doing with one.

Please come on over and have a look. Leave a comment or two so my new blog doesn’t feel lonely. If you find it useful, can you please mention it in your blog or on Twitter? My long term goal is to compile lots of valuable info to share with others, including contributions from other parents. Many babywearing blogs (and I number poor little existere.wordpress.com in this) are full of self-love pictures. I know I do it.

This blog should hopefully be about helping others out, having a laugh, and sharing experiences.

http://babywearingtwins.wordpress.com

The next few years will be full of this debate.

Coming here in a bit of a fuddle this evening. Bouncing back and forth – am I selfish? Totally justified? Why the fuck is my ‘family’ so fucked up?

Long and short, my father did not bring gifts for the babies when we met with him over Christmas. He promised to send some. Here it is, the first of February, and not even a couple of cards for Snort and Coconut on this, their first Christmas.

My father’s mother also gave him money for me and TMD – no mention of the babies. Surprise, surprise, we have not seen the money. Now, I don’t really care about a small sum of money that much, but it’s the fucking principle of the thing. My aunt apparently saw a card when she was at my ‘grandmother’s’ house, from my father. He thanked her for the money for us and said he would use it to take us out for a meal.

So the one hour meal he spent with us? We apparently paid for it. (He refused to take a full day off work to spend with the babies, and his partner didn’t even come for the lunch.)

There was also no mention of the fact that my grandfather had two great-grandchildren in the obituary. My father never even called or emailed to tell me that he had died. He still has not gotten in touch.

This shit pisses me off, brings up every situation that has passed like this – a long line of disappointments and doubt.

I was used to the idea of never expecting anything from my father. In my early twenties, I can recall exactly one time that my father brought me anything but misery, guilt, and anger. Since that point, no. My teen years? Don’t make me fucking laugh.

My childhood? Oh, what a jumble. What a fucking borderline personality dreamscape – full of absolute terror one minute, laughter and relief the next.

It’s not about me anymore. It is about my children. Do I want to have to explain to them when they are older why their birthday(s) will always be forgotten? Do I want them to understand, far too early, that some people are not to be trusted – and these are people who claim to love you? People who have their blood running through your veins?

This year Coconut and Snort are too small to understand who the jolly, fumbling, disconnected fat man who briefly cuddled them is. Next year they will be too small. But time has a way of passing, and history has a way of repeating itself when people do not want to open their hearts. Is this what I want for my children?

I have not had a moment of pure joy with my father since I was very, very young. What is there for my children?

I feel like a heel. The man’s father has died, my father has never been capable of a normal human relationship – why do I expect change now, etc etc. I do not wish to bring pain into anyone’s life. I kind of thought, ‘Oh, what’s the harm. They’ll see him once every few years, he’ll be a kindly stranger, they’ll have fun on his boat.’

The proof of harm comes here, in the form of a 31 year old non-daughter, who still feels such burning pain and hatred and confusion. I want to stand between our children and this man, this selfish little boy, and bear all the hurt for them. But can I grin and bear it, not be true to my children or myself, spend the rest of his life making his excuses for him?

There is no point in reasoning with my father. There is also no point in confrontation, even when I know I can use my gift with written words to wound, slash, blame. I have done it before. He cannot hear. He is false promises and lies, he is self-centred and genuinely innocent (in his mind) of these actions that hurt others. He twists me up in knots, and I feel hate in the middle of my chest. It’s hot.

This is not something I want to feel. This is not something I want my children to feel.

Imma pop a cap in yo’ ass, bitch!!

Edited highlights.

Taking the babies into ‘a leading global city and one of the world’s financial centres’ (thanks, Wiki) today for a birthday lunch with Compadre.

As we have missed most of his birthdays – even pre-children – he must realise how much we love him to bundle them up and take them to The Big City. We’ll have to be on guard to make sure they don’t run away into a life of debauchery or crime. (Ha, we are totally going to this posh area where we used to live and the worst crime is probably a rich twenty-something vomiting in public at 3 in the morning.) In fact, I know a non-rich girl who may have vomited up red wine on the sidewalk once. She lives in our house, but she ain’t me. Just sayin’.

There is snow on the ground, so hopefully all the dumbasses in this area who never see snow and assume that cars cannot be used with snow – but go out anyway, sliding around like fucking bumper cars – will decide to stay in for once.

Don’t know where this weather has come from. Yesterday afternoon it was so sunny and gorgeous and I thought to myself, ‘Self, you’ve got to buck up. Take the babies for a walk. You will all like it.’ Got them strapped to me, got outside, got to the furthest point away from the house, and suddenly weird white balls were falling.

I thought, ‘Leftover petals from this tree? Styrofoam balls, why are there so many fucking styrofoam balls?’ Then I realised it was hail. Giant hailballs that only increased in size and were pelting down. Coconut was NOT impressed. Snort didn’t seem to care too much. I made right for the house while trying to stop Coconut’s face from being blasted off by the killer hail.

Anyway.

We go into the city today, for the first time since our trip to the Embassy to get them their passports/foreign birth certificates. We may try to cram them into their snowsuits, which probably won’t fit, but if you see a two mom family with what appears to be giant teddy bears strapped to their fronts, make sure you stop and say hi.

They are wearing their new amber teething necklaces and looking hawt, so we’ll have to closely supervise Compadre and C Dawg to make sure they don’t spirit the babies off to join them for the pub crawl due to start after our lunch. We’re planning on skipping that part!!

Love to you all.