"Ma ....Ma! MamamamamamamamamamaMA!"
AJ groaned as she heard that insistent little voice yelling for her imperiously, feeling something soft thump into her back where she sat on the floor in front of her latest project.
Setting down her pencil, she twisted to look toward the corner of her little studio, where Seamus and Orla were securely penned away, with bright and colourful toys to keep them amused. Only it seemed that what amused them the most was to throw those toys, soft and hard alike, at their mother to get her attention back onto them.
Sure enough, lying on the floor just behind her was Orla's favourite cuddly, a multi-coloured and -textured caterpillar that rattled as AJ picked it up. And judging by the way the usually quiet and good-tempered Orla was yelling for her to pay attention, it was Seamus who had thrown it, holding on tightly to his own beloved cuddly to avoid having his sister do the same.
"You two," AJ said in a fond, if weary voice, "are going to be the absolute death of me one of these days."
She rose, moving over to the little play-pen, and handed the caterpillar back to Orla, who took it with a big gummy smile. Seamus, her brother, then raised his hands to their mother with his hazel eyes, so like AJ's, wide and pleading.
"Up?" he asked, flexing his fingers at her.
AJ looked down at her son for a long moment, wondering whether her children were ever going to let her have even half an hour's uninterrupted peace to work. Then she laughed, rolling her eyes, and bent to heave the 11-month-old onto her hip.
"Fine, you got me," she chuckled as Seamus wrapped his chubby arms about her neck. She tucked him securely against her with one arm, and reached down to open the gate of the playpen. Orla's sticky hand slid into hers and the little girl toddled unsteadily out of the pen, hanging on tightly to AJ's hand. "I guess this would be you two telling me that it's time for lunch, huh?"
"'es, munch," Orla agreed, her blue eyes focused on the floor in front of her feet as she tottered along beside her mother. On AJ's hip, Seamus was nodding as he gripped his mother's bra-strap through her t-shirt.
As they made their slow way across the house to the kitchen, AJ found herself reflecting on how quickly the twins were growing. This time last year, she had been heavily pregnant, unable to tie her own shoelaces for the huge bump that housed them in her belly. And now, at 11 months old, they were already well on their way to walking on their own; had distinctly different personalities; played happily together or alone; and had one syllable words at their disposal to yell at any adults who might be nearby. Of course, they had their own little language between themselves; a burbling, chuntering language made up of sounds and nothing else, but they were happy babbling away to each other for hours on end. She didn't have to express enough milk to feed an army any more, and indeed, she was drying up. Soon, the babies would be off their one bottle at night and one in the morning, and fully weaned onto what could loosely be termed solids.
And they were so different. Seamus, the older, was showing every sign of looking just like his father, with wayward brunette hair covering his head and that strong line of a nose developing. His eyes, though, were like AJ's, hazel and tended to twinkle with mischief, for he seemed to go out of his way to get his sister into trouble. He wasn't as articulate as Orla in real speech, nor as strong on his legs, and if you watched carefully, it became clear that he deferred to his sister in everything, making him the submissive twin in their pairing. But despite that, he was quicker on the uptake with recognising people and objects, and assigning the right words to describe them.
Orla was the apple of her daddy's eye, and boy, did it show. Although she was quieter than her brother, she did have a better grasp of language than he did, often the one who spoke up for the pair of them when they were hungry or needed something done for them. Likewise, she was stronger on her legs, though not as courageous as her brother. Where he had already been caught several times four steps up the stairs and rising, Orla had yet to even approach the staircase. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, she was going to be a heartbreaker when she grew up, AJ was sure.
Therese, the cook Stas had hired over a year ago now, was already in the kitchen, and she looked up with a crow of delight when mother and twins stopped in the doorway to knock. She had been a lifesaver during those first weeks when Stas had gone back to work, and AJ had been left alone with the children, and since then, had inserted herself into the twins' daily routine easily.
As AJ settled her son and daughter into their highchairs, Therese warmed their pre-prepared meals for them, abandoning the lunch she was making for herself, AJ, and Maria, the housekeeper, to help feed the twins. Or rather, to help AJ avoid being covered with food as the twins learned how to feed themselves; and, of course, to clean them up afterward.
"Seamus, eat your lunch, don't wear it," the young mum laughed as she wiped mushed chicken and potato from her daughter's forehead. Orla gave her a gummy grin as she manuvered her spoon into the rough region of her mouth, while beside her, Seamus was having far more fun flicking his lunch at Therese. The long-suffering cook was laughing and scolding him with the same breath.
"C'uk c'uk!" Seamus waved his chubby hands around happily.
"Yes, that's right, you're eating cluck clucks," AJ told him cheerfully. "Chicken."
"Ch'ckim," came the obedient repeat of what she'd said, first from Seamus, and then from Orla.
"Very good," Therese praised them as AJ fished the little pudding pots from the fridge to finish the daily mess making that was lunch. "And now you're having pudding."
"Puddum!" This time, Orla was the first to repeat the word, though she was banging her bottle of water on the tray of her high-chair as she did so.
This was how a typical morning and lunchtime went in the Ryan household during the week. Busy, messy, loud ....but always fun. And AJ wouldn't change any of it, for all the wealth in the world.
AJ groaned as she heard that insistent little voice yelling for her imperiously, feeling something soft thump into her back where she sat on the floor in front of her latest project.
Setting down her pencil, she twisted to look toward the corner of her little studio, where Seamus and Orla were securely penned away, with bright and colourful toys to keep them amused. Only it seemed that what amused them the most was to throw those toys, soft and hard alike, at their mother to get her attention back onto them.
Sure enough, lying on the floor just behind her was Orla's favourite cuddly, a multi-coloured and -textured caterpillar that rattled as AJ picked it up. And judging by the way the usually quiet and good-tempered Orla was yelling for her to pay attention, it was Seamus who had thrown it, holding on tightly to his own beloved cuddly to avoid having his sister do the same.
"You two," AJ said in a fond, if weary voice, "are going to be the absolute death of me one of these days."
She rose, moving over to the little play-pen, and handed the caterpillar back to Orla, who took it with a big gummy smile. Seamus, her brother, then raised his hands to their mother with his hazel eyes, so like AJ's, wide and pleading.
"Up?" he asked, flexing his fingers at her.
AJ looked down at her son for a long moment, wondering whether her children were ever going to let her have even half an hour's uninterrupted peace to work. Then she laughed, rolling her eyes, and bent to heave the 11-month-old onto her hip.
"Fine, you got me," she chuckled as Seamus wrapped his chubby arms about her neck. She tucked him securely against her with one arm, and reached down to open the gate of the playpen. Orla's sticky hand slid into hers and the little girl toddled unsteadily out of the pen, hanging on tightly to AJ's hand. "I guess this would be you two telling me that it's time for lunch, huh?"
"'es, munch," Orla agreed, her blue eyes focused on the floor in front of her feet as she tottered along beside her mother. On AJ's hip, Seamus was nodding as he gripped his mother's bra-strap through her t-shirt.
As they made their slow way across the house to the kitchen, AJ found herself reflecting on how quickly the twins were growing. This time last year, she had been heavily pregnant, unable to tie her own shoelaces for the huge bump that housed them in her belly. And now, at 11 months old, they were already well on their way to walking on their own; had distinctly different personalities; played happily together or alone; and had one syllable words at their disposal to yell at any adults who might be nearby. Of course, they had their own little language between themselves; a burbling, chuntering language made up of sounds and nothing else, but they were happy babbling away to each other for hours on end. She didn't have to express enough milk to feed an army any more, and indeed, she was drying up. Soon, the babies would be off their one bottle at night and one in the morning, and fully weaned onto what could loosely be termed solids.
And they were so different. Seamus, the older, was showing every sign of looking just like his father, with wayward brunette hair covering his head and that strong line of a nose developing. His eyes, though, were like AJ's, hazel and tended to twinkle with mischief, for he seemed to go out of his way to get his sister into trouble. He wasn't as articulate as Orla in real speech, nor as strong on his legs, and if you watched carefully, it became clear that he deferred to his sister in everything, making him the submissive twin in their pairing. But despite that, he was quicker on the uptake with recognising people and objects, and assigning the right words to describe them.
Orla was the apple of her daddy's eye, and boy, did it show. Although she was quieter than her brother, she did have a better grasp of language than he did, often the one who spoke up for the pair of them when they were hungry or needed something done for them. Likewise, she was stronger on her legs, though not as courageous as her brother. Where he had already been caught several times four steps up the stairs and rising, Orla had yet to even approach the staircase. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, she was going to be a heartbreaker when she grew up, AJ was sure.
Therese, the cook Stas had hired over a year ago now, was already in the kitchen, and she looked up with a crow of delight when mother and twins stopped in the doorway to knock. She had been a lifesaver during those first weeks when Stas had gone back to work, and AJ had been left alone with the children, and since then, had inserted herself into the twins' daily routine easily.
As AJ settled her son and daughter into their highchairs, Therese warmed their pre-prepared meals for them, abandoning the lunch she was making for herself, AJ, and Maria, the housekeeper, to help feed the twins. Or rather, to help AJ avoid being covered with food as the twins learned how to feed themselves; and, of course, to clean them up afterward.
"Seamus, eat your lunch, don't wear it," the young mum laughed as she wiped mushed chicken and potato from her daughter's forehead. Orla gave her a gummy grin as she manuvered her spoon into the rough region of her mouth, while beside her, Seamus was having far more fun flicking his lunch at Therese. The long-suffering cook was laughing and scolding him with the same breath.
"C'uk c'uk!" Seamus waved his chubby hands around happily.
"Yes, that's right, you're eating cluck clucks," AJ told him cheerfully. "Chicken."
"Ch'ckim," came the obedient repeat of what she'd said, first from Seamus, and then from Orla.
"Very good," Therese praised them as AJ fished the little pudding pots from the fridge to finish the daily mess making that was lunch. "And now you're having pudding."
"Puddum!" This time, Orla was the first to repeat the word, though she was banging her bottle of water on the tray of her high-chair as she did so.
This was how a typical morning and lunchtime went in the Ryan household during the week. Busy, messy, loud ....but always fun. And AJ wouldn't change any of it, for all the wealth in the world.