The Turbulence and Trauma of Life with the Terrible Twosome!

I’ve always dreaded the thought of having twins. It seemed to me that sleep alone would be a logistical nightmare. I could imagine them as babies, the euphoria of getting them to sleep, of getting the opportunity to lie down myself and of the second that I finally drift off to the land of zs. Only, the chance of being awoken by screaming and what-such is doubled, leading to a sense of trepidation that disturbs sleep in itself. Not only this, but inevitably one would wake the other up, and we’d have both to deal with yet again. I could imagine them as toddlers (and we’ve had a little insight into that with a cousin six weeks her junior), running us ragged as they each head in separate directions to wreak their havoc. Worse, if the wife is out shopping or making herself look beautiful, it could be a genuine disaster. Glad I was then, that we only had singular babies, two years apart; although that certainly came with its own challenges, and in some ways it’s been harder than any perceived life with twins. Especially as the second was born during a lockdown that meant visitors, thus babysitters, were not allowed for the first two to three months.

Having two under three has been hard work. As can be expected, sleep was still hard to come by in the first six weeks of our littlest girl’s life. Oh, she’d be fine during the day, infuriatingly angelic as she got hours of shut eye in her Moses basket or pram, but only her mummy and daddy's bed would suffice during the night, as she settled in the crook of our chests in her slumber. Me and the Mrs would be forced to take shifts as we tried not to drift off, her life literally in our hands as we prayed that the eldest stayed asleep in her bedroom. Initially, all was well, but after a couple of weeks we’d hear a cry coming through the monitor, and I’d have to go and settle her down as the wife took care of the baby. At this time I was wont to fall asleep with (proving that I can build a structurally sound child's bed), which I only saw as a silver lining in what was a particularly hard time in our lives as a family (as hard as it can get in one as privileged as ours, at least). We'd walk around like zombies in the day time, somehow still managing to keep the two of them alive.

It was ok with our first, at least when I wasn’t at work. We’d be able to nap as she napped, and we’d have that little bit more energy to deal with her during the day. This time, though, when the littlest is slept, we had a toddler and her whirlwind to deal with. I must give it to my wife, she'd encouraged me to nap on days when I’d look particularly tired, and still does to this day. As much as I may like to be though, I can’t be gone all day, so being 100%, or even 75%, is impossible eight days out of seven. You can rarely let your brain switch off either; space out and you’re punished. From her emptying the kitchen cupboard and potentially smashing a plate to her pouring a drink in her toy kitchen sink, from her drawing on her toys to falling off any manner of furniture or equipment (clutz that she is), we'd have to watch out for anything. They say you learn something new every day and the drawing issue has allowed us to discover a wonderful hack for getting ink off wood: hairspray (a big thank you to their aunty for that). Silver linings, eh?

Despite sleep becoming easier, the above is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the chaos of our day times with two little girls. Part of me has really missed being at work during my furlough period and eventual redundancy; if only because it would be a heck of a lot easier! The baby has been as placid and as smiley as any baby that I’ve come across, but boy do you know when she’s hungry or tired. She's boasted the most ear splitting screams but hunger is easily dealt with and most of the time she'd go to sleep without fuss. Keeping her down had been one of our biggest challenges nonetheless, with her sister around. Whether it’s in the banging of her toys, the shouting and running around or when she'd physically walk over to the pram to “check on her”, she’d inevitably have been the reason that our littlest would prematurely wake up from her slumber. Then jealousy would rear its ugly head as the requirements of a months old child superseded those of one with a couple of years under her belt, and it became awkward as she forced herself onto one of our laps. This, I must admit, has become more of an issue for her mum than me, which is a little bit of a surprise; as she’d always been a daddy’s girl before.

The elder sister has often demanded that we play when sometimes it is impossible, although her forceful nature makes it very hard for her to take no for an answer. Any task that we’d work on has ultimately had to be halted as we'd split ourselves between the two of them; which is something that became unattainable when one of us went out. I can only speak from my personal experiences, but I swear that my love would flick a switch the very moment that she left; as pandemonium generally ensued. This was when the baby would frequently decide that she was tired, hungry, or bored as the older one wanted to play with some of her messier toys; like Play Doh, crayons or paints. I’ll have settled the latter as I attempted to get the former to chill out, which is when both of them would decide to have a poo (I swear, four or five times they’ve done it simultaneously!). Eventually, clean nappies on, I'd get hold of the tablet and give the toddler the dummy that I’ve always sworn is just for bed time. I’d continue to deal with the needs of the baby, presuming she hadn't already fallen asleep of her own accord. All in all it’s been a tough mental experiment having two kids under three, but it is something that we’re getting the hang of; almost.

By Calum Dewsbury