Herding Drunks

For any of you who may be contemplating having kids through surrogacy, remember that twins and multiples are quite common. But know this: Twins sounds like double the fun, but really, it’s double the trouble! We wanted two kids, so we had twins on purpose. We weren’t getting any younger, and it was way cheaper to have both at once when you’re going the surrogacy route.

To be honest, there are pluses to go along with the extra work of twins. Sometimes they play together and keep each other occupied. You get double the hugs and kisses, and well, they’re just so darned cute! Especially when dressed alike. But talk to any parent of twins and they’ll surely have plenty of twin horror stories for you. OK, maybe not horror, but all parents of twins share a common bond and feel like they deserve a medal just for making it to age five.

Here’s a drill I like to refer to as “herding drunks”. I say drunks, because in many ways, toddlers are just like little drunk people, running around weaving, bobbing, tripping, falling, laughing, crying, and screaming for drinks. When I need to take the boys out somewhere, it’s at least a 30 minute process to get out the door. Maybe longer in winter when more clothes are necessary. But it’s just like having someone tell you, “OK, your mission is to go into the bar and find two drunk guys, take away their beers, get them to put on their coats, and get them out into your car. One’s a happy drunk and one’s an angry drunk”.

So here’s how it goes. I get myself dressed and ready while the boys are playing or watching “Wow, Wow, Wubsy”. They’re content and ignoring me. I bring down socks and shoes for both, which grabs their attention. “Shoes, Shoes”, they scream. I tell Reid to sit down so I can put his shoes and socks on, so he runs away. I grab Dylan because he’s a little slower. One trick I learned is to put on one sock, then the shoe for that foot, then move on to the other foot. If you do sock, sock, shoe, shoe, they pull off the first sock while I’m putting on the second sock, and back and forth we go. I can cut five minutes off the process by going sock, shoe, sock, shoe. Then I grab Dylan’s coat and at first, he sticks out his arm like he’s going to help. But then he goes limp and falls to the floor. It’s like he really knows this makes it much harder for me to get his coat on! OK, one down, so I now have to chase Reid around the kitchen island three times before I finally sprint to catch him. We go through the same sock, shoe, and coat routine. Now, they’re both ready. I grab Dylan, but now he has Elmo in his hand, and we can’t take Elmo with us. I take away Elmo and Dylan goes into an instant, hysterical rage, kicking and screaming. I take him into the garage, and insert him into his car seat, struggling to belt him in while he rages on. Very similar to putting a cat into a kennel if you’ve ever tried that! I give him one of the car toys to play with and he settles down. OK, we’re almost loaded and ready to go. I run back into the house to get Reid but find two socks, two shoes, and a coat on the floor and no Reid in sight. I hear a giggle behind the curtains, so I run over to get him and he bolts. Three times around the island, sock, shoe, sock, shoe, Reid goes limp, coat, giggle, giggle, and Reid’s in the car. Now I’m sweating, even though it’s 25 degrees in the garage. I run back in, grab my wallet, keys, sunglasses, and set the alarm. I get in the car, start the car, double check that the boys are belted in, and then the smell hits me. Somebody pooped! Shut off the car, back in the house, lather, rinse, repeat. I don’t think I’ll ever be on time again for the next 15 years!