Belly, Babies, and A Helicopter Santa

Did you know that this is what 25 weeks looks like with twins? Yup. Scary. You should see me now . . . Alex is in the throes of explaining in painstaking detail the car garage set thingy he wants Santa to bring . . .

We saw Santa come to the Mall in a helicopter on the Saturday following Thanksgiving. He came in a bird, because the Reindeer can't fly until Christmas Eve (it would be too tiring, as Alex said).

Our Christmas Wish Lists:

Michael wants:

1: Everything in the Ranger Joes catalog, in desert grey and SWAT black

2: A bigger, better train set

3: Something good to read (a new author without a painfully dull or ambiguous writing style)

4: Superman's powers to speed up time and make this deployment go in dog years.

Camille wants:

1: To be a size 6 again (har har)

2: A full time nurse, nanny, housekeeper and chef (double har har)

3: These twins to be perfect sleepers, eaters and little angels (now in hysterics)

4: People to stop making the "here's your sign" comments about her belly

5: Something sparkly, something pretty, and something that smells nice

Alex wants:

1: This race car garage set that has tunnels, bridges, spiral drops and is really big

2: A telescope

3: A bicycle

4: The Candyland game set

5: pretty much everything in the Toys'R'Us catalog that is "3 enough" (his way of saying "ages 3 and up)

AND NOW FROM THE TWIN FILES . . .

Want to hear the comments I get so far?

Here's some of my favorites:

1: "Whoa! You look like your ready to POP at any moment! When are you due?" I then reply "In two months," smile, and walk away in order to keep that priceless look of confusion on their faces. Okay, ladies who have had babies: Do we pop? It didn't feel like popping when I gave birth to my first. It's not like putting a needle to a balloon. Don't call it popping. Too concise. That's why they call it LABOR.

2: "Yikes! How many you got in there?" (No response merited)

3: "That looks like it hurts!" Well, duh.

4: "How do you hold that up? I mean, your belly looks HUUUUUGE!" Thanks, dummy, and how do you hold yours up?

5: "Wow! My wife is due tomorrow and she's not nearly that big." Ya think? Now go home and tell her to quit whining. It could be a LOT worse.

6: "Will they be fraternal or identical?" This is the "here's your sign" guy trying to sound remotely smart. Identical? I just told them "It's a boy and a girl." A BOY and a GIRL. Those peepees don't match folks.

7: "Are you going to breastfeed them?" Okay, friends and relatives, no prob on asking that one. That guy in aisle 6 of the supermarket asking me . . . uh, think first, close mouth, and don't ask me that. Little too personal.

8: "Wow! Your belly is so big! Can I touch it?" So is yours! Can I touch it?

I'm now nearly 29 weeks along, and I look like I'm 47 weeks pregnant. I'm having delusions that perhaps I really am an elephant, I'm going to be pregnant for two years and these twins will weigh roughly 670 pounds each at delivery. Feels like it. They are now over three pounds each, just short of being the same length and weight (which is fantastic for multiples). Being fraternal, diamniotic and dichorionic, there is no risk of TTS. I am, however, at that point where my abdomen is attempting to crowd out my ribs. It's painful. Sleeping is getting tricky, and soon I will make that twin mom transition to sleeping sitting up for the last month. (No joke. Feel sorry for me, it's okay.) This is what every twin mom has told me to prepare for: The last month (insert dramatic music here).

I'm excited to have these babies, but let's be honest; It scares the bees right out of me. TWO infants. TWO. That's double for everything. I'm in for a rough year, I know it. With my husband being who-knows-where for this first year, I'm very intimidated by the prospect of losing my mind completely while trying to keep my fledgling family together. Having family close by will help immensely, but I am relying on the arm of my Savior and the miracles of God to keep it together.

Enough seriousness. There is much silliness and humor to be found within a twin pregnancy. My favorite comments come from my three year old son. "Mom, you're getting too big for our new house. We need to get a bigger one now." (this was preceeded by a comment earlier about how I was getting to big for my car) "Momma, you are a fat girl." I then called him a fat boy, he laughed hysterically and then it evolved to calling me a "chicken diaper girl" (his favorite insult). And my favorite comment from my boy: "Mom, you should be in a circus." I think I must look like one of the potato people on "JoJo's Circus" right now. I'm taking that one as a compliment.

29 weeks . . .just wait. Let's see what I look like at 34 weeks. I think the comments will be going from gold to platinum.