Tag Archives: denmark

Toddlers are insane.

  1. in a state of mind that prevents normal perception, behavior, or social interaction
    – (of an action or quality) characterized or caused by madness.
    – in a state of extreme annoyance or distraction

The girls are 2.5 years old. What happened? Why didn’t I write any entries for the last 18 months? Well mostly because my brain was too clouded by tiredness to stretch into any creativity. And spare time I had was used to sleep or watch TV lame enough not to require much brain function (Vampire Diaries, yes; House of Cards, no).

Tired morning eyes (Sophia wants the camera)

Not that I am getting the most epic amount of sleep these days, but things are on the up and up. I find myself feeling pretty good some days, and it’s a real treat to feel normal.

Let me catch you up:

Last time I wrote we had recently come back to Denmark and my soul was crushed under the weight of snow in March, dark days and living in a mouldy basement apartment. I slowly weaned the girls from breastfeeding and made them more purees. FYI I hate puree. I hate pureeing. I hate the sight & sound of a spoonful of puree slapping the wall behind the dinner table as the girls playfully explore the flight properties of sweet potato moosh. I also, and most of all, hated cleaning puree off the floor and bibs and myself. But at least I got my boobs back, or what was left of them anyway. Soon after the weaning, the true price of pregnancy made itself known. Turns out that a juicy proportion of breast fat was replaced with milk-producing glands, and after weaning I was left with 2 cups half-empty. The (super-young & perky) sales girl at the lingerie store said ‘oh yes, we see this all the time’ as she regarded my formerly Christina Henrdicks-esque and now sadly deflated bosom. I am however somewhat in awe of my now clearly ‘mom’ boobs. I feel like they have now taken on a kind of melancholic beauty. Like a tree with the leaves turning orange in autumn….

2015 was almost as tough as 2014, but luckily towards the end of the year, Chris got a decent ‘real’ (aka not a postdoc!) job and we could finally see a future for ourselves in Denmark. We managed to get a loan and buy a little house in the ‘burbs, with a small garden so the girls could run around. This was a huge undertaking. Let me help you to imagine buying a house in Denmark. There is a mountain of Danish paperwork that you can’t possibly understand, so you hire a lawyer for a squillion kroner per hour to make sense of it for you. Then there’s the complicated negotiations with several banks to try  and get the optimal interest rate on the loan. This features fun meetings where they present you with complex analyses of your financial situation (in Danish of course) and offer you infinite possible combinations of loan conditions. Finally, there is the tax. Oh there is so much tax! There is the fee to the government you pay for buying the house, then there is the tax you pay for buying the house followed by the bi-annual tax you pay for the privilege of owning a house. There is even tax to pay on the tax you pay. But hey, I signed up for this. And the sense of relief at finally being home after so long as travellers was amazing. Not to mention escaping the mouldy basement. We found an amazing daycare for the girls where they are cared for by a nanny in her home with just a few other kids and this was way better than vuggestue, which was anyway a little stressful for these girls.

We have been here almost a year and I am so content. We have neighbours with similar age kids and they all run around in summer, and it’s so cosy (‘hyggeligt‘ in Danish). I am also really happy with my concrete walls and I feel like I have more privacy than ever before in Copenhagen. I think we will eventually feel less like outsiders, and there is a good chance that the girls will feel authentically Danish, even if we never do. They already speak more Danish than English, though usually its a creative combination of the two.

This past summer was a memorable one. Our first summer in our new house and the girls were getting to know their surroundings. There is a small wood next to the house and we explored around there, digging up bugs for them to see, hunting frogs and shouting at ducks and they loved it. We also got Chris a Weber braai so he could exercise his inner South African and braai to his heart’s content.

Unfortunately this summer living led up to the worst day of my life.

One July evening, the girls were playing with us outside while Chris had some fish on the braai. I had taken them around the corner behind the hedge to look at some spiders and they were running around there. I didn’t know that Chris had just taken the grill out and put it on the floor for a minute and turned around to move something in the Weber around. Just then, Olivia ran away from Sophia & I towards the house and suddenly she was screaming like hell. I came around the hedge to see her getting up from the grass where she had just fallen on the glowing hot metal grill. I felt the world fall out from under me, the sight of her soft pink flesh seared by the heat, the skin hanging off in places. I was shocked and panicked. We took her inside and put her in the kitchen sink with cold water. She was screaming. Sophia was crying, afraid of what she saw and confused. It was 6pm, and the house was in disarray. I couldn’t find my bag or phone. I was so confused and scared, I ran next door and asked the neighbours what to do.

My neighbour took us to the closest hospital and there Chris sat with Olivia on his lap in a plastic bath full of cold water while we waited for an ambulance to take us to Rigshospital where they deal with burn victims. Olivia had some painkillers and fell asleep out of exhaustion from crying. Sophia was afraid, so I called her nanny to come and take her home so we could deal with this emergency without freaking her out too much. At Rigshospital, we saw the extent of the burns. She had multiple stripes burned onto her left calf and one on the right. She had another stripe on each toe, and one on her left lower arm. The doctor explained that they have to remove the burned skin so the skin below can cool down and heal. So the nurse gave Olivia a juice box and calmly scraped off the burned skin. It took ages, but Olivia was so brave and tired, she hardly cried at all. She then had to stay overnight in the ward. They leave the burns open to get air and dry out a bit, so she had to stay in a clean room and couldn’t touch the wounds or play on the floor. The next day the doctor applied a burn dressing and bandages and Olivia came home. She stayed home from daycare the next 2 weeks and she had to keep the wound bandaged and dry. This was challenging every day since she wanted to bath with Sophia, but we made it through without any mishaps. She was playing and riding her bike like always, so resilient and undeterred by her injuries. At the next checkup, they took off the bandages and saw that the burns were healing well so she wouldn’t need a skin graft. I was so relieved she would be spared surgery, and so was Olivia, to be free of the big bandage. She still had to wear a plaster to protect the wound during the day when she was playing outside, but it was getting better. Now the wound is still pink, but the scars are fading and we hope she will be scar-free in a year. We put fancy French cream on every night and she knows she had a big Eina, but it’s getting better.

That evening is one I will never forget. The fear and horror seeing her hurt like that is something I have never before felt with such intensity. And the shame at having let it happen is incomparable. Chris & I felt like the worst parents ever but we are slowly forgiving ourselves. Let’s just say that these days, if we are tired we eat pasta, or get takeaways and don’t try anything fancy.

The toddler stage snuck up on us, and one day I realized that they are no longer babies. I am loving it, despite the insanity 😉 They grew taller (and skinnier) and started running, climbing, talking.  They subtly accumulate words and expressions and come up with some real zingers. Upon not getting her way, Sophia said the other day ‘Daddy naughty’. She is fond of bossing Olivia around and will repeat my orders to her sister (‘put shoes on!’ ‘ikke (don’t) touch pan’). Olivia is in a stage of being obsessed with certain clothes and wants to wear the same top all day every day (when she is dressed that is). She has chosen a t-shirt covered in Russian dolls, which she refers to as her baby t-shirt. If I manage to convince her to remove it so I can’t wash out all the milk, spit & porridge, she asks (‘baby t-shirt?) as soon as she gets home. She is quite conscientious and informs me as soon as she is dirty (‘I all dirty!’) and lately requests multiple baths a day. She enjoys washing the rubber ducks and hanging them to dry, and drinking the bubble-covered bath water out of plastic cups. ‘Coffee!’ She declares cheerfully as she takes a pretend swig of the water, which vaguely resembles the foamy top of the cafe lattes that I chug in great volumes daily (she offers me a sip).

They both still really don’t eat much, except butter which they can consume in obscene quantities, often plainly licked off a spoon or bread. Eggs of all kinds are a hit too. I have found myself in a groggy haze hoisting the overly heavy cast-iron pan onto the stove before the clock has struck 6 am on a Sunday morning to a joyous chorus of ‘Eggies!’. The girls insist on being involved when I am cooking and Olivia is especially keen. She can competently sprinkle a pinch of salt and oregano on the aforementioned frying eggs, and surprisingly competently flip a flapjack. She also likes to make pretend cakes. If she spots the flour in the grocery cupboard she demands to have some so she can ‘bake’.

Now that they talk in sentences they like to narrate events and reflect on them afterwards. With only modest encouragement they will enthusiastically shout and gesticulate to recount a story. We showed them a scene from The Jungle Book movie where Mowgli is thrown from monkey to monkey up the mountain to the monkey king. They were completely amazed and stared with open mouths. Afterwards they told me in a mix of English and Danish about ‘Mowgi’ being thrown around. And that he got an ‘Eina’ (a sore) from the monkey scratching him. On a recent trip to the zoo they were initially quite wary of the monkeys, perhaps fearing a trip up a mountain for themselves. They got similarly excited about a story book called The Snowy Day (by Ezra Jack Keats the snowy day), where the protagonist Peter is a victim of a pretty tame snowball fight. They were very sorry for Peter, and said ‘Aaaay, mor. Snow ball hit Peter’ and then explained all the events that led Peter to this point. It is way more entertaining than the story alone!

The girls are teaching me all the time about myself, and kindly illuminate all the darkest, scariest corners of my character. One of the leaders in this list is impatience. There is nothing quite as infuriating as dressing a willful toddler. My girls are not keen on clothes, being dubbed The Nudists by my dear friend Lindy. But the Danish autumn is no slouch, and temperatures are in the single digits in the mornings. I fight to convince Olivia to wear a wool vest under her beloved (paper-thin cotton) baby t-shirt. Then I turn around and she has removed all her clothes because there is a small spot of drool on her shirt ‘All Wet!’ and I have to start again. Nappies are so out of fashion around here too, and I have basically given up on making them wear them at all during the day. At night of course I have to fight to make them wear nappies but they are seem to understand that they aren’t quite able to hold their bladders in check at night. Sophia loves her big girl panties and fancies herself quite the grownup. She was asking me about boobs the other day and I assured her that she has boobs too and they will get bigger as she gets older. Then out of the blue a few days later she told me ‘I have boobs like mommy when I big girl’. I really like the way she contemplates the things I have told her. 

They will soon be out of cribs too, Olivia has promise in a gymnastic career. She climbs between her crib & Sophia’s and sometimes climbs out of her crib if I don’t come and get her as soon as she wakes from a nap. I hear the door click open, her quick little footsteps and a naughty giggle.

Something no one tells you, and I never considered, is that twins fight a hell of a lot. They are constantly competing for attention from you, for their toys, books, food, baby t-shirts etc. And they are vicious. Pulling hair OUT (and stopping to admire the bunch of hair in their little paws), scratching faces and pushing. Nowadays at least they kiss it better immediately after and smile sweetly. Still, some weekends, after a rough night of poor sleep, and a day of constant fighting and crying, I think that this is impossible to survive and I wonder how parents make it to tweendom. But I think we may have passed the peak of toddler evil* and they are playing together a bit more and trying to kill eachother less. They like to play with baby dolls, and like me & their nanny, have multiple babies to care for. They put them in the pram and sing to them (‘Dudu baba, sleep angel muffin’) while pushing the pram back and forth. They change the babies nappies (‘Skifte! go fetch baby bum cream’) and comfort the babies when they are sad (‘Aw baby crying’). They even change eachothers nappies and help eachother to dress.

One of the other recent developments is that they love this stupid Disney TV series for kids called Sophia the First, about an ordinary village girl that becomes a princess overnight. Vomit. Also, why is it always about being a frikkin princess? There is more information about tiaras and tea parties in this nonsense than I ever cared to know. But sometimes on a rainy day when they have been running around like crazy it helps to just occupy them for a few minutes. Mind you, they sit still for an average of 5 minutes. The funny thing is, they call it Olivia the First. As if, in their minds, Olivia and Sophia are interchangeable. I mean, they know their names, but seem to think that really this is a mutable property. I guess this is sadly due to people mixing them up all the time. These days I am quite competent at telling them apart, which I thought was impossible when they were babies. So many little features are slightly different, the shape of their eyes (a tad more almond-shaped in Olivia), their mouths (wider in Sophia) and their speech (louder & more enunciated in Sophia). But for most people they look the same.

By the way, the sleep thing was apparently in no way sorted the last time I wrote. After the sleep training the girls did sleep well at night. For a while. Then they got a cold and it all went to hell. In my overly concerned mom way, I stupidly took them to bed with me when they were sick (ALERT: letting a kid sleep in your bed is never a one-time thing! They are like crack addicts for mom’s bed.) I recently tried again to dissuade them from coming to my bed, mostly because they don’t sleep well with me, and I don’t sleep at all. So far so good, I have had more sleep than usual in the last week but if I have learned anything during this journey, it’s that nothing stays the same and nothing is predictable.

Now I am at an impasse in my life. 

I am getting marginally more sleep. Looking at life and wondering what is the deal? Having these girls, I realise, has been an identity-melting experience for me. Reflecting on pre-baby me, my identity was very much linked to work. Working a lot, trying to reach a goal (eventual academic tenure). Post-baby, I can’t work as much, the time is not enough. I want to be there to fully experience their childhoods with them. I don’t think I can achieve my previously all-important goal without paying too high a price. Whether it is my health, or missing out on time with them. So now I am reassessing and it’s hard. In the first place it’s hard to admit it: I don’t want to do this anymore. I have to look honestly and wort through layers of stories I have been telling myself for years to see: what do I really want? I want to use my natural talents and work in a way that I can feel flow and creativity and not anxiety and insecurity. I have no idea yet how this is going to turn out, but I officially invite the universe to help me out. I am open to any possibilities and I am ready to change and be challenged.


*Spoke too soon.Sophia just discovered the joys of stamping. when she doesn’t get her way, she stamps her feet on the floor and wails**. I’m working on it…

** Tantrums explained

Sleep: One nap of 1-2 hours around midday, most days; Sleep at 7.30 pm, sometimes wake up during the night, awake by 6 am

Eat: Eggs, butter, cucumber, apples, blueberries, tomatoes, peppers, carrots, beef, chicken, frikadeller, rye bread, yoghurt, rice, pasta, oats, anything sweet

Skills: Running, throwing ball, naming animals in books, climbing, changing baby nappies, singing, drawing, painting, riding pushbikes and much more

Talking: short sentences, Danish and English mixed, more words every day, some swearing (oh my God!)

Choice quotes: Sophia: ‘It’s not so bad’ after bumping her foot; ‘I am scared, Winter is coming’

Olivia: ‘I buy present for daddy’; ‘Sophia naughty! Nej, she nice’, ‘I not baby, I biggirl’


6-11 months (4-9 months adjusted): globetrotting with babies

Its been awfully long since the last entry but I assure you, dear reader, I have been busy. Helluva.

This post has been written in bits over several months, and I have been dying to share the latest news. I have recapped a little to start with, since I frankly hardly remember what was happening last time I checked in.

So finally, voilà:

In mid-September last year (when the girls were effectively 1 month old) Chris went back to work and I was left alone with the girls. All. day. long. Its harder than it sounds, believe me. I thought I was hardcore and that I can do anything I put my mind to. But damn. As much as I love the little monkeys, weeks on end of caring for them is absolutely exhausting and draining. Many a day they refused to nap and I would end up with them in tears and me holding them just to get them to catch a few zzzs. By mid-October I was officially strung out and well on my way to crazy town. Some days I woke up feeling anxious knowing I was faced with the day of caring for them on my own, and that I would inevitably feel overwhelmed and unsure of myself. A few days I cried before Chris went to work and a few times he stayed home to help. On other occasions I called him & asked him to come and help because I felt I couldn’t cope and I was afraid. Sound like postpartum depression? Yup I reckon so. I decided that an emergency trip home to South Africa was immediately necessary. The kind folks at the SA embassy in Copenhagen issued emergency passports for the girls and we booked the tickets. I gritted my teeth and looked forward to easier times. I was so tired of being cooped up inside, the wind blowing, drizzle in the air and the days getting colder….I was tired of carrying them up & down the damn stairs if I mustered the energy to take them out walking. They would often wake mid-walk, not impressed, and I’d end up with 2 screaming babies & rushing home anyway.  Depressing days for sure. Chris and I were semi-malnourished due to lack of time for cooking. I forgot to mention the girls had this annoying habit of screaming for 3 hours every night before finally feeding and falling asleep. We read all the books, all the forums etc on this type of behavior but nothing really helped. So in the evenings we would each hold a baby and basically comfort them until the scream o’clock came to an end. Then I’d tandem feed them until they were asleep and then I would collapse for the night myself. Often without dinner, I’d just pass out lying in bed feeling as if I was vibrating, all my cells buzzing from tiredness, and often not sure I was still holding a baby or if I was alone in bed. Only to wake whenever they next were thirsty….

marshmallow babies
marshmallow babies

Lindy, an old friend of mine from uni to whom I’d been whining on a daily basis, took pity on me and offered to take me in for a few months in SA so that I could get some support with the girls. We flew to SA in mid-November (the flight was intense and long but actually not as terrible as you might imagine, airport scream o’clock notwithstanding) and moved in with Lindy, her husband and their 2.5 year old son. Chris left back to Copenhagen a week later (he had to work). Lindy was there for me every day helping me with the girls and constantly trying to decode their confusing signals and ease them into a more happy, routine lifestyle. Bath times were especially noisy, the girls would inevitably be overtired in the evening and although they loved the bath, they hated getting out of it, especially having their PJs put on (FYI, it’s months later & I still struggle to get them into jim jams). Then they would be super tired and annoyed, and I would irritate them further by trying to feed them before bed, which resulted in lots of screaming. Their newly found ability to notice eachother also caused one to start crying just because her sister was upset. We all sodliered on and things settled down a bit, but as with babies, the only thing you can be sure of is that they will always be changing, so you are always adjusting & learning too.

I was deeply depressed and really felt alone without Chris, but we texted & spoke often. Some advice to new moms out there: if you have a partner, there is no replacement for that person. He is an essential part of the deal and I felt robbed being there alone. Ok I wasn’t alone but no one could give me all the hands-on help I needed. It’s a lot to ask or expect. My brother was working full time, my mother-in-law came as often as she could but was working too & the lovely friend I was staying with had her own kid to take care of, house to manage & a job on top. I would find myself alone with the babies from 5.30 or 6 am onwards, and sometimes I was just sad. Partly hormonal sure, but also knowing my husband was missing out on seeing their daily changes and I still felt clueless and trapped. I missed our little family unit and I was all alone, at least in my head.

twice as cute & dressed by their loving uncle Belchazar
twice as cute & dressed by their loving uncle Belchazar

So I hired an experienced nanny to help me out. Rahab was amazing. Totally unflappable, she gave me confidence and taught me how to get the girls into a semi-routine, and also how to stay calm. Plus she would keep an eye on them while they napped so I could actually get out of the house on my own for a while.

Once I bought the newspaper and a latté and just read a few pages while sipping my coffee. Bliss.

The girls were growing & changing every day. They started rolling over and making lots of funny noises. They were curious but still a little scared of new things. I tried to swim with them but the water was too cold and much screaming ensued.

I moved in to my brother’s cottage after Christmas and he made it a little mommy den of comfort for me. He was still super busy, but I had the sun, a pool and a nice neighborhood so I could drown my sorrows in cafe latte (decaf, naturally). Some dear friends & family came over to visit and cuddle babies, and I started to heal. Ah the magic of sunshine.

ouma loving the babes
ouma loving the babes

A few more weeks went by and finally Chris came to SA and I felt like a huge weight was lifted. Finally I could share the responsibility with someone as invested as me. When a baby cried in the night I could actually roll over, nudge him & say ‘Your turn, champ!’. It was awesome (It’s still his turn).

So we actually were super happy and chilled for the remainder of our time in SA. The babies had gotten more used to being in a carseat so when we took them somewhere there was less of the screaming (theirs) and gnashing of teeth (mine). They started eating a great variety of solids, so I made them loads of puree (butternut; courgette; sweet potato; even some chicken&tomato). It was so fun as they started exploring the world of food. One gem: they enjoyed sucking on a slice of lemon, but made such funny faces when they realized it was sour! ha, silly babies 😉 They would breastfeed less often so I felt a little less  like a tethered boob (sorry but it’s true). It was a whole new world. We lived it up, eating countless avocados, knocking back frappucinos and getting some sun. I relaxed and even threw them a naming day party, which was a chance to celebrate their birth which we didn’t have time to do in June.

dad's a funny guy
dad’s a funny guy
naming day louis
naming day moments with their uncle
Olivia 6 months
Sophia 6 months

Finally February ended and we reluctantly came back to Copenhagen. Bags were jam-packed with all the baby clothes (I ♥  Cotton on) & paraphernalia you can imagine, jars of puree & nappies galore for the flight. It was hairy in the airport with all the luggage and carrying the babes (hot tip: NO you cannot gate check your enormous double stroller so you have to carry your baby! enjoy).

Getting to CPH was a real shock to my now sun-softened brain. It was sleeting when we arrived, with a nice bracing wind, clouds and no sun. geez. I had convinced myself that Spring would be in full swing. Ha!

Nope, it was freezing. It kinda still is….

Anyhow, after a week of hell as the babies adjusted to their new environment by refusing to sleep unless being held by a parent (yup) we all settled into our new nest. Chris had moved us into a ground floor apartment in Frederiksberg while I was in SA so it was all new to me too. It’s small but there is a patch of grass outside and it’s in a quiet area, so basically it’s perfect.We got into a nice little routine of playing with babies, walking Copenhagen to death so they could sleep their naps in the stroller, drinking lattés and generally living in a little baby/parent bubble. Olivia & Sophia were now rolling over both ways, started sitting up on their own briefly and were babbling all day, super cutely.

sophia laughs
Sophia having a giggle
happy days are here
happy days are here

It all started feeling kind of do-able. In mid-April they started going to daycare for a few hours a day to get used to it in preparation for my return to the lab at the end of the month. It was a strange process, made worse by our ignorance of how daycare (vuggestue) works in Denmark. But after 2 days of spending a few hours in daycare Sophia woke up vomiting. Then she had diarrhea. Then Olivia started vomiting. Then the diarrhea. Then Chris. Then Sophia again. Then on what was supposed to be my first day back at work, it was my turn. I spent the morning violently vomiting & decided to stay home. Then Sophia started again…..We were officially in hell. I was drowning in a pit of nauseated despair (flashes back to the epic nausea of my pregnancy) and a pile of laundry was taking over the tiny flat. The babies were miserable, feeling sick and whining to prove it. Chris was pale and thin (again). I felt like packing up and running South immediately. But I didn’t have the energy so instead I had a nap while Chris looked after the girls and after 4 days I felt somewhat less vile. The doc diagnosed rotavirus and said to keep an eye on signs for dehydration but there was nothing else she could do. She also said they wouldn’t get this virus again this year (woo hoo!) but there is another one they could get called norovirus (boo!).

so slippery mmmmm
so slippery mmmmm
Sophie grabs the noodle with both hands
Sophie grabs the noodle with both hands

After almost 3 weeks of puke, poo and general ickiness the girls went back to vuggestue, and I was back at work. It’s been weird giving up the time with them, but also good to dust off my old science brain cells and think coherent thoughts. Or at least try to. They seem to enjoy watching the bigger kids at vuggestue running around and playing with different toys, and the pedagog assures me they eat and sleep well enough, so I am trying not to worry. I have enjoyed the luxury of quietly thinking about what experiments to do and making plans, sowing seeds and getting my hands dirty with soil again. I am enjoying the scheduling and imagining what results will come next, but I also feel like I am working in a different way. I can’t just think, ‘oh well I’ll come & do that on Saturday’ so I am quite strict when I do my planning about what I can realistically achieve in a day or in a week. I don’t just set up hasty experiments without first thinking how long it will take & what I will get out of it. I know I should have always done that, but sometimes I would just be curious and do something for the hell of it…I also appreciate the time with the girls more, and it has been awesome as they are becoming more and more like real little people! That sounds weird but you know what I mean. They also sleep ALL NIGHT most of the time, so I feel more human myself*. They sit in their high chairs (Danish design of course;) eat food, try to dish up with their little baby spoons & sometimes even get food in their mouths. Sometimes they just flick the food off the spoon and I am filled with dread as I feverishly calculate the trajectory of said food (sometimes it ends up in my hair, or theirs). They spread it on the table, wipe it on their highchairs, drop it on the floor. It is mayhem. But what joy! And they are mad for summer strawberries. They get excited and kick their legs when they see the box in the kitchen. They have eaten loads of stuff (bread, yoghurt, oats, tomatoes, cream cheese, mozzarella, pasta, eggs, chicken, salmon, cous cous, rice, apples, pears, nectarines, grapes, bananas, kiwi, blueberries, rice cakes, pancakes). So far they don’t like meat much and they love fruit. Most of their food ends up on their clothes/hands/the floor, but they are exploring with vigor, as you would expect from my progeny. They are crawling and starting to stand and pull up. This is a new scary phase, when combined with their continued tendency to put everything they find in their mouths…but I laugh every day. This morning Sophia followed me to my bedroom when I went to get dressed. She peeked at me from around the corner and squealed with delight when she found me. Then she accelerated towards me laughing and smiling, and I must say it made my day.


*For anyone who follows this blog and has an interest, you may recall I have always been obsessed with 1. reading books and googling baby stuff, 2. baby sleep. In the last months I realized that googling just makes me nervous, most of the time, so I’m trying not to over-research; 2. my babies were waking up a lot, and I thought they needed my help to replace thier pacifiers. Turns out they could replace it themselves, and they finally slept through the night when I left them to cry for a while (checking in every 10 mins). It was my husband’s idea to see if they could sleep without our constant help & it has been a lifesaver

Then & now:

3 months:

crying team
crying team


  • 4 naps a day
  • waking 2-4 times a night


  • breastfeeding every 2.5 hours


  • smiling
  • being cute
  • swatting a toy
  • crying in chorus

9 months:

park life
park life


  • 2 naps a day
  • sleep at night


  • breastfeed once a day, bottles 3 times (hold their own bottles)
  • eat loads of stuff
  • learning to feed themselves


  • crawling
  • starting to pull up and stand
  • grabbing things with their fingers (pincer grip)
  • saying many sounds (bababa, dadada, mamama, dedede etc)
  • pointing
  • blowing bubbles in water
  • etc.

So to all my fellow twin moms out there, take heart, it really does get better 🙂

♥ All my love & thanks to Lindy for saving my life many times over in the last year ♥