Not me, said the Lou.

This picture was sent to me and I admit, I laughed a lot:


I’m not sure why this picture is a parenting fail, honestly.  I don’t know a whole lot of people that plan on having twins. Those using IVF, fertility drugs, or have twins run in their family know it’s a possibility, but until you see two little beans on the monitor, you can’t plan.

Mr. Who and I were not planning on twins.  The thought never crossed our Who minds. There are no twins on either side of the family, and I was not on anything to help me have children. Mr. Who’s neighbor growing up was a twin, and they were very close, maybe it rubbed off?

Mr. Who and I were hoping to have one girl together. One. Girl.

After a few weeks of marriage, the stick was positive, and when I was about 10 weeks, the doctor decided to check it out.

Side note: *Mr. Who picked the doctor because her husband played for the Cleveland Browns a long time ago*  I’m not kidding.

We go to the appointment, all excited and nervous. I had 12 year old Boy Who at the time, and Mr. Who had not yet had the pleasure of having a child, so this was an extra special fun time.

Baby Doc checks me over, and thinks I might be farther along than I think, so I’m taken down to the ultrasound room.

There I am getting all ultrasounded, facing the back of the screen, while Mr. Who is grinning like crazy looking at the murky black and whiteness that are my insides. Suddenly he makes a strange face, leans forward a bit towards the monitor, cocks his head slightly, and then squints. Before I can question it, Baby Doc says those heart stopping/nausea inducing words:

“Ohhhhh, there’s TWO!”

I start laughing because that’s insane, and I said: “That’s not funny, you’re joking right?”

Baby Doc: “I don’t joke.”

*She wasn’t lying*

Mr. Who gets a big grin on his face. The poor, naive fool.

I instantly burst into tears and wail: “WE’RE NEVER GONNA FIND A BABYSITTER!”

Mr. Who looks down at me, still grinning and says: “You’re gonna be HUGE!”

*more tears and wails*

It was decided that my advanced maternal age of 37 was the culprit for the random extra child.  Darn advanced maternal ageness. We later found out after the amnio that we were having two boys.

We planned on one girl, and got two boys.

What kinda crap math is that?

After the announcement, the only thing I was planning on, was getting big, and eventually going crazy.

I got really, really big. Like comically big.

Still crazy.