This is not going to turn into a Fatherhood Blog, but at the moment, my twins have been dominating my thoughts and most of my formerly spare time. As a result, I really don't have much to say about any non-baby topic. I'm determined to maintain personal interests and hobbies that don't pertain to my kids, but right now, those are mostly on hold. Thursday marked the end of ten weeks of fatherhood. As I enter Week 11, here are some of my main takeaways so far:
- About 50% of my time has been devoted to washing bottles. Dr. Brown's bottles are supposed to be the most efficient, and are supposed to prevent your baby from ingesting huge gas bubbles, which can lead to discomfort. I get that, but they are also a bitch to clean. They consist of six pieces, some of which are tiny enough to necessitate a special tiny brush. Two babies means two bottles per feeding, which means we go through them very quickly, which means that we have to wash them entirely too frequently.
 |
| These are not my babies, but I feel it's an accurate representation of what my babies would look like if we were to force them to wear these costumes. Speaking of which, it's early to think about Halloween, but if anyone has costume ideas, I'm listening. |
- My knowledge of song lyrics is lacking. I know all the words to "It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)," and most of Salt n' Pepa's "Shoop," and a surprisingly large chunk of Les Miserables. But none of these are really appropriate songs for babies (even though that hasn't stopped me from trying them out). I sing to my babies quite frequently - right now, it's the best way to provoke a little smile. But I've realized that my knowledge of many popular lyrics isn't as thorough as I had thought it was. The other day, I found myself gazing into my son's bassinet and singing, "Grey skies are going to clear up/Put on a happy face," only to come to an abrupt stop when I realized I didn't know a single other word to the song. I found an old camp songbook upstairs, and I've strategically placed it in the babies' room so I'll be ready next time.
- I love these babies, and yet I find that when someone asks me about them, I have surprisingly little to say. Here are my options:
- "They're great!" (Usually my go-to response, but it's extremely obvious and pretty trite.),
- "We love them!" (I've used this twice, and both times, the asker gave me some version of "Yeah, well duh.")
- "We think they're pretty cute." (That's what I've been going with lately. I kind of like the understatement. As a general rule, I prefer to avoid describing anything as "cute," but for my babies I can make an exception.)
- "They're growing on me." (I only used this once, and knew it was a ridiculous thing to say even as it was coming out of my mouth. I'll chalk it up to lack of sleep.)
From there, there's not much more I can think of to extend the conversation. They're really cute, she came out first, he's bigger than she is, they pretty much just eat, sleep, poop and scream - although lately, they have been smiling a little, which is awesome. People have mostly told me that she looks more like me and he looks more like Maya. There. You now know pretty much every important detail about our babies. Which, again, is not to say I love them any less or that I don't want to talk about them. It's just that I can't think of anything else to say that anyone would particularly want to hear.
- I am not allowed to complain about lack of sleep. I mean, I am, but if I do, I can't expect much sympathy. Surely, I am sleeping less than I ever have, but Maya has more to do, and isn't back at work yet, so she sleeps even less than I do. No one really wants to hear how tired I am, least of all my wife. That being said, I'm quite tired and I'll probably take a nap after I write this. And that's all I'll say about that.
- There are few things more fun than taking newborn twin babies to a pediatrician's office. Everyone makes a really big deal over them, and over us. We haven't even gone out very much, so reactions like these are still very much a novelty.
- Compared to being at home, work feels oddly like a vacation. Yes, I still have to respond to the needs of kids at school. But the difference is that I can occasionally shut my office door and tell the kids to buzz off without feeling sharp and immediate guilt. After all of the (justifiable) fuss and drama surrounding the babies, it was nice to return to work where I could deal with matters as mundane as writing progress reports and telling kids to tuck in their shirts.
- Running errands also feels like a vacation. After my nap, I think I might find another reason to run to Target. That way I can both 1 - take a little break from the babies and 2 - feel like I'm actually being helpful and not a deadbeat.
- Before the babies were born, I wondered occasionally whether I would mind having strangers pass them around to each other, or whether I might feel a little protective. Turns out I don't mind in the slightest. Having my arms free is a privilege that I took for granted before the babies arrived. And on that note, does anyone want to come over and hold a baby?
