I just came down from putting the girls to bed. Unfortunately, getting them undressed and into their sleepers and then upstairs and swaddled usually involves about twenty minutes of solid screaming, and the combined force of their voices is like having a fire truck going right next to me. I feel a little rattled, and not like cleaning up the post-dinner mess.
Nathaniel had a blood sugar low in the middle of last night, so Geoff and I were up doing glucose tests and cramming him full of granola bars and juice at one in the morning. I got up to re-test him at two, and he was fine. So far he hasn't had serious hypoglycemia and been unresponsive, so I'm grateful for that.
On the subject of Nat, how on earth do I get him to stop wetting himself? He's been theoretically toilet trained for a year and a half, and today he wet himself five times. He will willingly poop in the toilet, but will no go upstairs to pee on his own initiative, and will lie if you ask him if he's wet himself or needs to go. We need to have a serious brainstorming session. I am leaning towards 'taking everything fun away and putting him back in diapers while making it clear it's up to him to earn everything back' because this is ridiculous. He doesn't remotely mind being wet, and it's making me crazy.
Okay, on the subject of gratitude, I have been thinking about how I've whined that God provided us with twins but didn't provide me with extra hands, and this is false. He did. He has, so far, provided me with at least ten extra pairs of hands, some for short bursts of time, and some consistently, over and over.
I am very, very grateful. This would be completely impossible without them.