Homecoming Eve

Before leaving the NICU today, I stopped to give the twins’ nurse an update on their condition. Ian was dozing peacefully, and I had just set Tory down to nap after stuffing him full of 2-ounces of milk. She listened and, as I was walking out, remarked, “Barring any setbacks, it looks like they’ll be coming home tomorrow.”

Something clicked in me when she said that. We’d been shooting for Thursday as the day for them to come home for almost a week now, but it hadn’t sunk in my mind yet. When Ellie and I talk about them coming home Thursday, it sounds like we’re dreaming. When the nurses talk about them going home Thursday, it sounds like they’re just humoring us. Even when I heard that the doctor said they might go home Thursday, it sounded like wishful thinking, like every spring when the Cubs say their goal is to win the World Series this year, even though every man, woman, and goat knows full well they’ll never win another World Series. Somehow when the nurse said they can go home tomorrow though, it all came together in one package of realism; a tidy, beautiful, relieving, panic-inducing package.

I still have too much to do to prepare for their homecoming. First on my list was getting my hair cut. This may not sound essential, but keep in mind that my last haircut was months ago, and when my hair grows too long, it curls into wings by my ears. Besides making me look embarrassing, the wings present an eye-poking hazard when I fling the twins over my shoulder for burping. I knew that once the twins came home, I wouldn’t be able to leave the house without the twins, and I couldn’t leave by myself for any appreciable amount of time for any reason that didn’t involve acquiring food, be it the grocery, formula, or take-out type of food. So I burned 30-minutes getting my hair cut while Ellie directed Abbie’s energy into relatively silent, safe, and non-destructive activities, such as climbing up and down chairs.

After the haircut, we went Christmas shopping. Because our family and friends will be disappointed to meet our freshly expanded family if we don’t also offer them a trinket commemorating the holiday season. We have no hope of journeying to the mall as a family once the twins come home.

Once home, I realized what else I will never again do once the twins come home: Nap. I dozed off for a few minutes this afternoon, bringing my daily sleep total dangerously close to eight hours, which is another milestone I surely won’t see again for months.

I decided the final activity we needed to do before the twins come home is eat out in a nice restaurant.* By “nice” I don’t mean “the type of place where you’re expected to dress in business casual attire or at least change from your Winger t-shirt;” rather I mean “the type of place where servers come to your table to take your order and deliver your food, and the only place you see clowns is on the children’s menu, which doubles as a handing coloring book.” I remembered that when Abbie was born, eating out with her at a sit-down restaurant was pure hell for the first few months. That was mostly because she spent her entire time in the restaurant eating or screaming, and the time between us sitting down and receiving our food is almost exactly how long it took her to finish her bottle. We’re just now arriving at the point where we can keep her placated by distracting her with toys until the food arrives, then keeping her face too full to scream. Eating out with two newborn balls of fury and a toddler in need of constant distraction will be impossible.

I enjoyed a nice barbeque dinner while stuffing Abbie’s face. Then we came home to finish arranging things and tiding up a bit around the house. I wasn’t worried about those things because I can always work around the house once they come home. It’s leaving the house that will be a problem. I’m looking forward to their homecoming, just a little apprehensive about things. What if I never sleep again? What if I never leave the house again? What if I just jinxed their homecoming with this post?

* Unrelated tangent because there’s no way we’re fighting those crowds for quick-serve quality food, unless Fuddruckers is involved: Popeye’s opened their first restaurant in central Iowa on Monday. The restaurant has been packed every since with cars in the drive-thru consistently lined up into the street. Insert your judgment about the populace of the Des Moines metro area here.