During the shock of finding out I was going to be a father of multiples, I didn’t realize that my wife was also giving birth to the hottest attractions for the casual passerby to “ohhh” and “ahhh” at.
In fact, when in public, the only people who don’t seem to acknowledge our existence are the other families with twins. Surprise, right?
Maybe after wading through countless people asking, “Twins?” we don’t have the energy to jump in the air and shout “Twin life!” while hitting a mid-air high five. No, usually our eyes stay averted, gifting each other with a moment of tranquility that is quickly interrupted by the next couple seeing twins for what must be the first time, ever.
My kids are more interesting to look at than exotic aquatic life.
It wasn’t just the stingrays that day. The penguins lost too. As did the beluga whale. And the seals. Even the …
My three-year-old son stared in horror as I delicately cut my newborn twins’ hospital ID bracelets off with a manicuring scissors so I could scrapbook them.
As he burst into tears, I calmly reassured him that I hadn’t harmed his new siblings and, in fact, they slept through the whole thing. But that wasn’t the problem …
If you are a mother of identical twins, you get a lot of attention. With that attention comes curiosity from others about parenting twins.
My twins were adopted by us when they were preschoolers after being in the foster care system almost their entire short lives. I am open about the fact that my twins were adopted, but I don’t always feel like that piece of information is necessary to share with everyone.
I get a lot of twin questions when out and about, and it can be awkward answering some of them because I don’t have the experience of mothering twin babies and toddlers. I can’t relate to twin mothers talking about the trenches of twin babyhood and the exhaustion that comes with it; there is a whole other type of exhaustion that comes with trying to bond with two three year olds. I don’t think it’s a …
There’s very little that’s rational about marriage or divorce.
When my husband left me, it was out of the blue. We’d been having issues, but I thought they were typical post-deployment adjustment issues following a particularly challenging combat tour. After all, we’d been together nine years, through two tours in Iraq, one in Afghanistan, one in Korea, the birth of premature twins, my rape PTSD and a move across state.
I asked only one question: “Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”
When he said no, my mental switch was immediate and absolute. Everything was now going to be about making sure that our five-year-old twins were okay.
We figured out how to split up our assets and responsibilities then and there. He filed the next day and 90 days later, we were free. I called a realtor as soon as I got home from signing the divorce papers. The girls and I moved back to the Austin area about two months later with our two new cats.
I’ve felt anger towards my ex for his lack of interaction with our girls; for having my cat put down; for not inviting our daughters to his second wedding. None of that anger has been for his leaving me. Only my mother has issues with that. She keeps prodding me to tell her I’m crushed, diminished, broken.
I’m not. I’m relieved. For so many years, I’ve been holding my breath, expecting my marriage to end in a combat death. Having it end instead in divorce almost fills like a gift of life…
After our kids are asleep we turn off the monitor; the idea is, if they need us, they come to our room.
But one night, I woke to the sound of faint giggles. I didn’t look at the clock. I walked into the kitchen confused–all of the lights were on and all of …
I had some friends over one evening with the idea that once the kids went to bed I would have some girl time and wine time.
My three-year-old twin boys had been really great at going to bed–just laying and talking until they fell asleep.
I was gabbing with friends some two …
The object here, as you might have guessed, was to get the girls to sleep. See… the white noise machine thingy really does work.
Here’s what one preschooler can do:
Carve her initials into the kitchen cabinets.
Smear the pet bunny with lotion.
Cut the power cord to the computer.
Here’s what another preschooler can do:
Strip naked on a whim.
Dump buckets of water out of the tub.
Squeeze purple smoothie all over her carseat.
They’re still in it together, my twins… currently helping each other get through their college years at the same university. Their love and friendship hasn’t faded a bit. And neither has my memory of them walking away from my wife and I, 15 years ago, into their first day of …