When the twins were little I adored being stopped in the street by everyone who wanted to comment on my beautiful babies. So much so that I grew resentful when I would leave the house and people wouldn’t approach me in the street. I think I became a little obsessive as I felt people simply had to comment on how well I was doing and how gorgeous the little ones were and in retrospect I do apologise to anyone whose ankles I clipped with my double
We made it!
We got through baby beautifuls blessing without either twin girl or boy shaming us and getting the entire family barred from the pearly gates. It was touch and go for a while, twin girl did start her blasphemous repetition of ‘Jesus, Jesus’ once again and the vicar did break out in a visible sweat but all was averted by a quick hymn.
I remembered why I started this blogging adventure. It was never intended to be a diary of disastrous events for my small but lovely audience to chuckle at. Yet posts like poogate …
New schools are terrifying, lots of new people stood about in established groups, rituals and greetings established. Most have obviously grown up in pre schools and nurseries together and share a history that we have not been part of. However twin boy, twin girl and I have tried to fit in. To be honest the twins are doing a lot better than me. Twin boy has befriended a boy who can produce a competitive amount of green stuff from his nose, so they are clearly friends for life; he also has a trusted circle of pirates that he can turn to for new hints on how to cause significant pain with daggers made of foam and swords made of plastic. Twin girl has found herself chair of the school mothers union, they meet every playtime to look after their silent babies, exchange head lice and discuss the latest going ons in Scooby Doo.