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A portrait of my babes once a week in 2014 (52 weeks)

I've been finding it hard to write this post, the one on your fifty second week, on you becoming a full year. I can't express all the love I have for you. I tell you it's more than all the stars in all the sky. But that still doesn't quite capture the wholeness of what I feel, the way I am tangled up in you like the sun's light is with the moon. I hope that you will always know how much you are loved, through the million kisses I plant all over your tiny bodies, through the way I hold you close to me and stroke your wispy hair, through the way your laugh makes me laugh, and through the way I watch you in awe. May my love always embrace you, comfort you and ground you like roots into the earth so that you may soar. 

twinversations IV

Florence Willow, 11 months

I bumped into my neighbor as I got into our apartment block lift. He's an eccentric old fellow, slightly reminiscent of father Christmas with his rotund belly and large beard.

Neighbor: How are the girls?
Me (with a baby on each hip): They are doing really well thanks.
Neighbor (to the girls): Well I hope you stop teething soon so your crying stops waking your mother up at night
Me: !!!

#passiveaggressivemuch?

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A portrait of my babes once a week in 2014 (51 weeks)

In the week leading up to your first birthday I've been thinking abut how you make time speed up. It is because every moment is full. Babies make you live in the present. The now. The newness of it. The busyness of it. Daily projects are short term - change two babies, feed lunch to two babies, bath two babies, get two babies dressed - within the grand life work of bringing up children. The future is palatable every day, a glimpse of the girl Anna will become from a photograph I snapped, the walking phase from Florence's standing practice. It accelerates time. I try and hold on as I can't fight the instant nostalgia that envelopes me as I now have to breathe in really deeply to smell catch that baby smell that's probably more in my mind than on dewy skin. Yet, at the same time I am delighting in the new now. The new present and the wonders that this day, at this stage, in this season bring.

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A portrait of my babes once a week in 2014 (50 weeks) - Florence Willow (top) and Anna Clementine (bottom)

The dimples on your chubby baby hands in place of knuckles. Little thumbs that are oddly grown-up. The soft valleys of the back of your necks. Padded flat feet. Ice-cream twirls of belly buttons. Soft down wisps of hair. The longest eyelashes which lengthen when glistening wet with recent tears. Eyelids that give in to sleep. The gentlest touch of hands against my breast as you feed. The twirling of my hair in your fingers. Florence's crinkled nose that finishes off her smile and Anna's lips pursed with eagerness. The weight of you in my arms - that wonderful baby weight. Oh and the sound of your laugh. It's these little things which full me with wonder. 

Twinversations III

 Me, in said white pants

It is not unusual for people to stop and offer help as I am getting my twin pram (affectionately referred to as the ship) out of my car. At times this task involves me climbing into the boot, removing three large pieces of equipment, assembling the pram all the while keeping the babes happy as they're still strapped up in their car seats. So when a woman approached me in the parking lot of Hyde Park shopping centre the other day, I naturally presumed she was about to offer some help.

Woman: Excuse me, I can see you're busy with that whole... baby thing... and what-not
Me (to myself): Oh sweet, she is offering to help
Woman: But I just have to ask you where you got your white pants. They are perfect.

#priorities

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A portrait of my babes once a week in 2014 (49 weeks)

I have two sisters and they really are my best friends. I am so happy that these two sisters have each other. 

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A portrait of my babes once a week in 2014 (48 weeks)

Bath time with you twinklets. Silky smooth baby bare bodies lathered in creamy, chubby fingers reaching into the tub with delight as the lotion oozes through clenched fists. Legs kicking excitedly in anticipation as we dip you into warm water and place you in your bath rings, facing each other, twenty toes mixed together, four legs entwined, backs scrubbed, faces wiped, teeth brushed. You're lifted out, warm skin wrapped in fluffy white towels. Each one of you to one of us. A baby per parent as the bed time duties are performed. Nursing, dressing, reading, singing, cradling. Sleeping. The same routine every evening but somehow never mundane.