Over the past week, having new twins in my house, I have come to the realization that I may need to apologize to some of you for comments I may have made, and things I may have done in my dark, unenlightened past.
To save time, I am writing this post instead of calling or writing each of you individually or whatever Emily Post would say was proper form and all.
If this doesn't apply to you, read along anyway, you may be unknowlingly guilty of the same offenses.
Dear Mothers of Twins,
Please forgive me for ever saying how nice it must have been to get two babies and only have to lose the baby weight once.
Or that it must be so fun since they're both doing the exact same thing.
Or, "I could never have a night-nurse. I wouldn't like someone in my house all the time, and besides, I cherish that time to bond with the babies alone."
Or for ever inviting you to meet me for lunch at a busy, hectic place without good parking or a door that will accomodate a side-by-side double stroller.
Or for being slightly judgmental when you gave your older children chocolate cake for breakfast. It DOES contain eggs.
Or for wondering why you fell asleep during our conversation about leggings vs. skinny jeans. And wondering if you realized you had spit-up on your left shoulder and smushed cereal bar on your right and neither of those "accessories" were featured in People Magazines Style Watch.
And finally, at least for now, forgive me for not being sympathetic enough when you were racked with guilt because if you were holding one crying baby, the other was just sitting on the floor crying by himself and you wondered if he would be scarred for life because of it.
Or for not praying for you every stinkin' day.
And for the mothers of triplets or more. I am wearing saccloth and ashes for you, and sending you a case of Diet Coke. And a medal.