The Joys of Mothering Twins

The following are true events, though they may not have necessarily happened in the sequence mentioned.

Who can deny,

Who can refute,

That Baby’s actions,

Are really cute?

Imagine then,

That you have not one,

But two little babies,

On the run.

We start the morning,

With warm oatmeal,

This isn’t going well,

I begin to feel.

Then one grabs the spoon,

Excited and squealing.

Where’s the food gone?

Onto the ceiling.

Now they’re both off,

To the shoe rack,

To chew and gnaw,

And eat their snack.

One takes Baba’s leather,

And makes it confetti,

While the other sucks Mama’s laces,

As if they were spaghetti.

I head to the couch,

To review some Qur’an,

Hoping they won’t follow me,

And ruin my plan.

Because every time I pause,

To think of what’s next,

Four eyes look up,

And try to object.

The girls start whining,

They want to read, too.

I hand them some books,

Then they’re happy, and coo.

Thinking they’re now busy,

I turn away,

“Let me read some Qur’an,

There’s no need for me to stay.”

A few minutes later,

I come back and I see,

That the two books I gave them

Are not two, but three.

They have ripped them apart,

And are eating in turn.

They give me blank stares,

“No cause for concern!”

The morning seems long,

I lie on the floor,

Can’t take a real nap with these two,

Not anymore.

But I sleep, nonetheless,

With the minutes ticking by,

‘til some baby jumps on me,

And makes my heart fly.

I search the house to find,

What they have been up to,

I finally hit the kitchen,

To watch feeding time at the zoo.

They’ve emptied the trashcan,

Dirty tissues, peelings and pits,

And are nibbling away,

As I stand there having fits.

I try to explain,

That this really won’t do,

But my words are in vain,

And I can’t get through.

“Alright,” I shout out,

“It’s time for your naps!”

“I’ve had enough of this,

My little gingersnaps.”

I plunk them in their cribs,

As they squirm and they wiggle,

I leave them for a while,

Only to come back to a giggle.

I decide they’re not sleepy,

And I fix them some lunch,

It’s obvious they just need,

Something to munch.

Very proudly I give them each,

A warm potato pancake,

And dreadfully realize,

That it was a big mistake.

For the pancakes are now,

Sailing across the floor,

With both making frisbees,

Which is hard to ignore.

After lunch I set them free,

To watch where they go.

What they’ll get into next,

I don’t want to know.

But I find out soon enough,

When I see one of them chomp,

Onto something black and crispy,

That looks to be from a swamp.

I take out the wings,

Body, and head,

And I pray and I hope,

That it was already dead.

I try really hard,

To not have a sick attack,

As I see that the legs,

Have become her miswak.

The day’s not half done,

And I’m already inert.

I sure hope all this,

Is just a growth spurt.

Asiya Akyurt

Asiya Akyurt lives in Virginia with her husband and twin daughters. She is an active MAS member with an ijaza (certificate) in Qur’anic recitation and tajweed, and enjoys teaching, interpreting and translating.

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