I’ll be the first to admit it…sometimes I forget I have two kids.

I know.  How can she do that?  She went through IVF.  She carried them for 38.5 weeks!  She still has the hideous c-section scar (along with the misplaced belly button, thank you very much).  She blocked out the first two years like a typical Mom of Multiples!  How could she forget???

Well, I’ll tell you…it typically happens when one of the Crazies (specifically, boy-Crazy) is in the middle of a meltdown.  Let me tell you, the meltdowns have been EPIC lately.

They have been loud.

They have been physical.

They have been exhausting.

I now know the reason that I work out all the time…just in case I have to drag 32 pounds of wriggly, screaming, slapping, hitting, kicking toddler through a parking lot while still holding the hand of girl-Crazy.

Poor girl-Crazy.

She is definitely getting the short end of the stick lately.

She listens to us.

She can occupy herself without needing me every 12 seconds.

She can be told “no” without flipping out and acting like the world is ending.

She thinks her brother doesn’t like her…because he tells her that he doesn’t like her.

She has been snapped at when I feel that her safety is in jeopardy (like I said…the tantrums have been very physical).

Her hand has been grabbed roughly in a parking lot because my adrenaline is flowing like lava through a volcano.

I hate to say that I forget that she’s there during these times of duress, but sometimes I just need to concentrate on the squeaky wheel.  The problem is, he’s always been the squeaky wheel and the guilt is starting to creep in.

I know that she-Crazy values our time together.  I try to make it as special as possible.  I apologize if I snap at her and explain that I just didn’t want her to get hurt, but sometimes, I don’t think it’s enough.

Sometimes I just want her to know that she’s just as important.

Sometimes I just want her to know that I would rather be spending that time reading her a story than wrestling he-Crazy into his pull-up.

Sometimes I just want him to understand that he’s not the only child I have.

Sometimes I just wish that my final thought at the end of one of these tantrums wasn’t, “oh right…you’re here too.”


If you’re up for some funny and not so much “poor me, I’m such a guilty Mommy” stuff, come visit us over here!