I don't know the exact date, time, or where I was when it happened but all of a sudden I'm searching for strangers nearby to open the door for me to fit through with my double stroller. I'm pushing the flight attendant button more than once per flight- I can't get up! That would wake up the babies! I'm making the waitress run circles to help me. My poor boyfriend is forced to come home early from work to hold a baby while I feed and put the other one to sleep. Random gentlemen are carrying my groceries to my car. I'm in the store with my arms full of babies and my keys slip out of my hands. I look around for someone to pick them up for me. My friends that come to visit me end up doing dishes and folding laundry instead of exploring the Denver night life.
Wasn't it just yesterday that I was going on a road trip to my hometown from college, stopping at random lakes for a swim, taking detours just because the scenery was prettier that way and sleeping on the side of the road in an old, ratty tent? I didn't need anything from anyone. In fact, I was the one picking up the poor lady's fallen keys or opening the door for the old woman in a wheelchair. I was once that waitress running circles for that mom that never tipped enough to make it worth my time! I used to know everything now I'm calling my mom night and day asking about diaper rashes and ear infections.
Why didn't anyone warn me about this? My bookshelf is stacked with books on pregnancies and raising children- even ones on raising twins. Of course they talk about babies being completely dependent on their parents but not once did I ever read anything about losing my own independence. No one prepared me for this.
Sometimes it takes patience. I have to explain how to do something to another person rather than just doing it myself. It often takes tolerance. Because I can't do everything myself, I have to accept other peoples ways and methods of doing things. And lastly, it almost always takes swallowing my pride and asking for help.
Often times, after many nights spent in the rocking chair, after picking the thousandth cheerio off my kitchen rug, and after hours of singing my ABCs I feel like I'm in desperate need of a break. So I take a couple hours to go shopping, have a nap, take myself out to eat or sometimes even just drive around. What's funny is that my breaks are never what I expect them to be. As soon as I get in my car I look in my rear view mirror and there's no chubby grins staring back at me. When I close my eyes for a nap all I see are the two sweetest faces in the world and I can't stop wondering what they're doing. I can hear them laughing and their attempt at chatter. I miss them. A lot. And I usually end up coming home or waking up early just because I miss them. So I think what surprises me most about the loss of my independence is not so much how I'm always needing strangers to help me out, but more so, how I'm as dependent on these non-walking, diaper-filling, unable-to-feed-themselves little creatures as they are on me.
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