Friday, 18 June 2010
Cry Me A River
The little twins are 19 months old. At birth they rated about average on the crying scale. They have progressed to having some of the most frequently used tear ducts in the southern hemisphere. For the first 7 or 8 months I could let the sound of dual screaming wash over me whilst plodding on the with the required tasks in the correct order (make food, shovel food in, wipe up excess, undress screamers, soak in bath, lather in 'no tears' shampoo, laugh at the irony, notice that my laughter is drowned out by warbling twins and so on and so forth). At 15 months old my patience was starting to be stretched. At 19 months I can barely string a coherent thought together. Sometimes I feel like my brain merely functions to be irritated by the sounds of crying or try to stay calm despite the crying. Soon the very last shred of patience will dissolve into my own screaming.
I'm writing this on a Friday night, drinking a glass of wine and watching old episodes of Sex And The City. The silence is gorgeous.