Thursday, July 3, 2014

March 19, 2009 #tbt

I was so thrilled I was heading out, I didn't bother readjusting the camera [yes, camera] to take another selfie where I didn't have to lean down to fit in the shot!
March 19th.

I'll never forget that date, because the twyns were exactly 3 months old on that date.

But of course, they didn't look like three-month-olds.

They looked like death.

No, literally.

This was my *first* outing alone, it was a gorgeous Spring day, and as I carried my little girl facing outwards and she fell asleep, as newborns are oft to do, someone commented to me that she looked like a dead baby.

That was a lovely conversation.

Anywho, I walked out of our apartment, down the street, across four lanes of traffic, past the car dealership, over the hill, around the bend, and across the first parking lot, then down into the shopping center, and across the second parking lot, and back on the sidewalk to my destination.

All with a baby in my carrier and a baby in my stroller. Twynsies. I am a TWIN MOM. I do this with TWINS. I do everything with TWO BABIES.

I really didn't think anything of it at the time. I mean, I knew I was excited, but I didn't think I looked like a crazy lady walking .7 miles on a busy road in the sun with two newborns. That thought did not really occur to me. I was thinking, it's about time I get on the road. These two little gypsies-in-training have to earn their stripes.

Anyways, I reached my destination, a little sweaty, a little wistful. Maybe I was glistening, right?!

There, oh there, was the elusive Starbucks. Front and Center. Only a doorway and a ill-driving stroller between me. and It.

I think someone opened the door for me. It was probably the very first time someone told me,
"Boy you have your hands full, huh?"
WAAaaaaaay before I came up with my favorite response:
"Better than empty!" 
It's not that I want to be snarky in my response, and it's not that people want to sound snarky saying it, but really, what do you think you're saying when you say that?!

I got in the line and it was not long. It was, I think, 10:30 in the morning?? So, past the rush hour, afore the afternoon deluge. I reached the counter quickly, holding back tears, and dug into my still-too-tight-fat-jeans pocket and reached for my crumpled up dollars. I ordered a latte and tried not to spill my entire story to the person taking my money.

I was really emotional about coffee, y'all.

Well let me explain, that too.

Coffee was my little treat in the afternoons at work...

Coffee was something I asked the doctor about upon learning I was pregnant...

Coffee was what I had upon arrival at the NICU each and every day of 45 days to get me through pumping session number 1, and pumping session number 2...

Coffee was, when I happened to have such an awful newborn nighttime that babies' wake-up time was entirely too early and therefore first naptime was a few minutes before Daddy even thought about leaving for work, I could possibly go and purchase next door, although half-brewed and uncared for in a barista-sort-of-way, which gave me a five-minute taste of how 'other people' went about their days in the year 2009, unbeknownst the freedom they had in stopping by the drugstore and dry cleaners on their way to/from other events none of which involved children or spit-up machines.

Coffee. was. special.

Coffee. is. special.

So I didn't spill my guts to the person at the counter on March 19th.

I got my coffee, my special, special coffee, and whirled that stroller [with cup-holder, thankyaverymuch] around to the condiments desk, satisfied in my feat.

Two women sitting next to that area sparked up a conversation with me. They wanted to know how old the kiddies were, and were they twins, and were they early, and such and such.

I started to tell them how this was actually my first outing, and they feigned surprise [read with French accent bien sur], and let me have my little moment as they held the doors open for me to exit.

[Thank you, ladies, for letting me have that moment. I was feeling very special, and, you kinda sealed the deal on that when I tried to retell the story later to my husband in the evening, who didn't quite understand what all the gesturing and posturing was about.]

And when I made it all the way back to the apartment that morning, with the bumps and the streetlights and the heat, and the times I had to stop to replace a paci or two, you know, that coffee wasn't really that fresh anymore.

But it was dammmmmmmmmmmmmn goooooooooooooood.


And I will never forget that day. Let's call it, and Independence Day of sorts.

[Now, 8 months later, when I finally got a babysitter for the first time, that was a whole 'nother independence day HA!]



Speaking of getting something....come back tomorrow for the #giveaway!!

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