Twins at my age! Thoughts from an older Mum

I would love to paint a picture of the cosmic meltdown moments when all elements of seeming control unravel in a few easy and rapid steps, as if you have accidentally snagged a yarn on a poorly made jumper, and the shreds swirl into a heap by your feet.  In fact its more like the planets calude and decide to collide and form a volcano of molten emotion and debris that leaves you caked, rooted to the spot and barely breathing with anxiety. Sometimes I see these moments coming but more often than not they just appear.  Bathtime has this potential, with a shallow bath and my non slip mat at the ready... you need any device that offers a little help.  They love their bath but W wants to twist the tap feeder, which will send a gush of stored usually hot water all over her and  then she tries to put the taps on.  Both of them enjoy Ls rather large collection of bath toys but will want the same item and grab it off each other.  R has a particular attitude to bat...

I want to put into words what it's like being alone with 8 month old twins and a lively 6 year old in my terraced house (that now resembles a Lego workshop come over zealous charity shop with piles of clothes and plastic bags in the corners) but the unpredictable high voltage intensity seems to have short circuited my mind and now I can't remember the relentless succession of events that makes you feel you are running at high tilt from magma that may well do a Pompeii on you.   Or it's a sort of morse code not 'dot dot dash dash' but 'poo poo feed feed scream scream' all underlined by L, prod prod the babies don't don't listen listen to me...but open other people's presents, cut own fringe, kick rubbish bag and beat the metal bin with homemade mallet and generally make me feel I have totally lost any parental grip.   But worst of all L makes any remaining grain of patience rise like a fiery geezer and explode forth bursting the odd r...

I have become so bloody boring. People kindly ask me how I am with an air of wonder.  And I say "exhausted" but with such a depth of meaning that it shuts them up... as I look  glazed and may well cry or elaborate on the tedious state of my tiredness. But from 2 months to 11 I was getting 1-3 hours sleep a night in short bursts. It's turned into a  fog of interplaying factors.  R has a scream or rather a bellow that literally lifts the  roof off and quickly wakes W who then with a higher softer note shrieks with alarm  and the duet wakes L and then my already pounding heart gives me such an adrenaline burst that just swills around my exasperated and overloaded system.  So at the first squawk I plunge R on my breast to muffle her, this now happens 12-20 a night and inbetween I hurl myself out of bed to hunt for W's dummy the moment she stirs...  if overlooked for too long W will wake up completely and stand in her cot and cry...