Tough Crowd (Part 1)

Well, that didn't go very well.

I got home about 5:30 pm today, ready for my evening alone with the babies. The nanny had just put them down for their last nap. This timing was actually the best-case scenario I had been hoping for. With this timing, Leah and Riley would wake up around 6:15 or so, which is early enough that Riley wouldn't be in her evening grump mode yet, so she would eat peacefully and happily, and the babies would then play for about 45 minutes before going to bed at their ideal bedtime of 7:30. And the angels above would sing joyfully, and all would be well with universe. Theoretically.

At 6:15 on the dot, Leah wakes up. I smile at her. She smiles back. I talk to her a little, and she answers back in her little Leah language. Things are good. Riley wakes up. I smile at her, and she smiles back. I can hear the angels singing already. Tonight is going to go well.

Kathy had coached me on what to do if they woke up at the same time. You turn on Leah's mobile to keep her occupied, and then you change Riley's diaper and put her in her pajamas. Then you put Riley back in her crib, turn on her mobile, and change Leah. Then you take them to the living room one at a time and feed them. Easy as pie.

Following Kathy's instructions, I turn on Leah's mobile. As I start to pick up Riley, I realize that the pajamas that Kathy left in the room in the morning aren't there anymore. Oh well, I figure, the nanny must've moved them -- so I leave the babies in their cribs to go find the pajamas. It takes me about 90 seconds to determine the whereabouts of the pajamas (bedroom laundry). Unfortunately, in that minute, Riley transforms from angelic baby to she-devil. By the time I get back to the room, Riley, none too happy about me starting to pick her up and then abandoning her, is screaming at the top of her lungs. It's that kind of panicky screaming where she barely has time to take in breaths between the individual screams -- so basically she's panicked and oxygen-deprived.

I start changing Riley as quickly as I can, but Leah, who's currently going through somewhat of an "easily startled" phase, has now been snapped out of her happy mode, and starts crying in chorus with Riley, matching her decibel for decibel. I now have two babies crying at volume 11, and my evening is only about two-and-a-half minutes old. It was almost funny, in a way. Actually, on second thought, no, it wasn't the slightest bit funny at all.

I change Riley in record time, put her back in the crib, turn on the mobile, and get ready to change Leah. I get about as far as the third snap on Leah's shirt, but Leah and Riley are now both screaming loud enough to rattle the windows, so I say screw it. I hurriedly carry the babies down to the living room to feed them, Riley first with her face purple and tears streaming down her cheeks, and then Leah panicking with her lower lip trembling and her shirt half open and flapping in the wind like Tom Selick's in Magnum, P.I.

I look at the clock. 6:20 on the dot. 5 minutes down. Just have to make it through the next hour and ten minutes. How hard could that be? Things couldn't get any worse, could they?

Uh, could they?

To be continued.