Married... with Twins

One of the things that all the twin parenting books warn you about is that having twins supposedly causes some major strain on your marriage. I read somewhere that the divorce rate among parents of twins is twice as high as the divorce rate among other couples with children. There are actually entire books written about the subject, including this one. I love some of the chapter titles:

• My Husband Says He Feels Like He's in Prison!
• My Son Likes to Play Dress-Up as a Girl and My Husband is Freaking Out About It!
• I Kicked Out My Angry Husband!
• Cell Mates or Soul Mates? Five Steps to Get the Love Back

You gotta love chapter titles that have exclamation points. Makes you feel like you're watching Jerry Springer.

Considering we're exhausted all the time, Kathy and I aren't doing too bad so far, or at least I think we're still soul mates and not cell mates. But we do have the occasional fights, most of which fall into one of two categories:

Fight #1 -- Dave doesn't know how to put the babies' clothes on: About 50% of our fights will start when Kathy discovers that I've committed some kind of twin clothing infraction, such as (a) putting a baby's clothing on backwards or inside out, or (b) putting one of the twins to bed with her bib still on, or (c) [and I have to preface this by saying this ONLY happened ONCE] putting on a baby's pajamas but forgetting to put on her diaper underneath the pajamas. In Kathy's world, the clothing infraction falls into the category of crimes against humanity. All evil that later befalls the twins throughout the day is a direct result of the clothing infraction. Is Leah acting fussy? Clearly it's because her daddy put on her socks too loosely. Riley crying in her stroller? Obviously, she's upset because daddy put her hat on sideways.

I have to admit that I am severely clothing-putting-on impaired. It takes me forever to put the babies outfits on in the morning, and no matter how hard I try, I usually manage to do at least one thing wrong. But in fairness, I do the same thing with my own clothing. I head out the door all the time with my shirt untucked or sweater on inside-out or backwards. The part of my brain that notices clothing is just plain missing. I couldn't for the life of me tell you what outfits our babies wore today, but that doesn't mean I don't care about my daughters. Without looking, I can't even tell you what I'm wearing right now. Hey, what do you know, sweatpants!

Fight #2 -- Dave didn't hear what Kathy said the first time: Kathy's a New Yorker and by nature talks pretty fast. And of course, having twins makes every spare moment of the day all the more precious, so nowadays, Kathy talks even more super-rapid-fire than usual, like one of the Gilmore Girls. So, my poor laid-back California ears miss stuff. Unfortunately, when mommy's panicked because the babies are waking up and she needs daddy to help her by doing something QUICKLY, asking her to repeat something once or twice doesn't go over too well. Here's how the exchange usually goes:

Kathy (from across the house): Dave, can you [wah-WAAH-wah-WAH-WAH-WAAAH]

Dave (shifting brain out of internet-surfing haze): What?

K: I need you to [wah-WAH-wah-WAH]

D: (pausing as his brain furiously tries to catch up to Kathy's brain)

D: (pausing further as his brain tries to go through the various possibilities of what Kathy MIGHT have just asked for)

D: (pausing further as he realizes it's a lost cause)

D (nervously): Ummmmm. What?

K: (defeated sigh) Never mind, I'll do it myself.

I guess these fights aren't too bad, all things considered. In the end, all the strain really ends up being outweighed by that weird bonding that comes from the shared exhaustion mixed with satisfaction we feel at the end of each day. And anyway, any prison that features these three women can't be all that bad.