My mother-in-law (Hi Sue!), after visiting us and helping us take care of the twins a few weeks after they were born, after seeing the utter chaos that is raising two babies, after witnessing the filfth of our bathrooms after they hadn’t been cleaned in three weeks (Hmmmm, let me see. Should we sleep or clean the bathroom?) decided to give us the best gift anyone could possibly give - a year’s worth of maid service.

Oh man. It is so great knowing we don’t have to clean the house all of the time now. I mean, now we only clean right before the maids come. Because, you know, we don’t want them to thnk we’re slobs or anything.

Every morning I tiptoe into the babies room around 6:30 a.m. to see who might be awake first to give them their morning feeding. Lately JT has been awake and Brianna (who is more and more like her mother every day) continues to sleep away.

I pull JT out and go about changing and feeding him. These moments of one-on-one time are few and far between and I enjoy them immensely. We’ll talk and coo and laugh and gaze at each other while JT eats. Since he’s been sleeping longer periods he’s no longer grumpy in the morning. Instead he’s full of energy and smiles. Once he’s done I still have another baby to feed so I put him back in his crib and let him sleep a bit longer.

I then go over to Bri’s crib. Sometimes she is stirring at this point but many times she’s not. To gently wake her I put my hand on her tiny chest and whisper, “Briaaaannnna, your Daddy is here. Good morning little girl. It’s time to wake up.” She hears the sound of my voice and while she refuses to open her eyes, she breaks out into a great big smile (Okay, so maybe she’s not so much like her mother after all). This smile melts my heart.

I scoop her up and take her into the next room to change her. While I’m changing her diaper she has still yet to open her eyes. I continue to speak to her. “Good morning, Sweetie! Are you ready for breakfast my little one?” About this time she opens her eyes. She blinks a few times and then focuses on my face. Our eyes lock and we gaze in each other eyes - me with a small bemused smile that makes my eyes twinkle and her with a sense of wonder. I smile wider and her wonder grows to something that can’t be described any other way than a pure expression of love. It is then that she breaks out into the largest, brightest smile a Daddy could ever hope for. The room absolutely glows from the radiance of this special smile that’s just for me. We spend a moment smiling and talking but it’s breakfast time so I gather her up to get ready to feed her.

She laughs as I scoop her up and I rain kisses on her chubby cheeks. She rests her head on my shoulder as I take her into our loft area where breakfast occurs. On our way out she often finds one of my fingers and wraps her tiny fingers around mine. I settle her into my lap and give her the bottle. No one else is up at this time and the early morning silence of the room combined with the loving gaze we give each other while she eats makes me feel closer to her than at any other time.

It’s just Bri and her Daddy and no one else.

What more could a guy ask for?

I didn’t want to jinx it. So I didn’t say anything. But, after three nights in a row, I think it’s safe to say that…

Jonathan is sleeping through the night!!!!

Three months old and both twins are sleeping all night long. This Daddy has slept, in the past three nights, 7 hours, 7 hours and 8 hours. I am one rested dude! Now, not wanting to get greedy or anything, but the babies are still asleep at 6:15 a.m. I’ve been up for an hour anticipating them being awake. I have woken a couple of times the last few nights at the slightest sound from the baby room only to find them perfectly fine and sleeping. I need to have a talk with my brain and let it know it’s okay to sleep until the babies actually wake up.

The Good News is that Jonathan finally slept through the night! We made him a little upright sleeping spot in his crib (basically it looked like he was sleeping in a little mini-recliner) in hopes that would help his congestion that seems to hit him in the middle of the night. It worked! We didn’t hear from him until 6:00 a.m. this morning.

So, did I get a full night of uninterrupted sleep?

Uh, no. That’s where the Bad News comes in.

The Bad News is that Brianna, for the first time in weeks, woke up crying with the fullest, wettest diaper I have ever seen. Amazingly, her nightgown and her bedding were completely dry. (Let’s hear it for Huggies!) Nevertheless, Daddy was up at 4:00 a.m. changing Bri’s diaper while chuckling at the irony of Bri thwarting my chances of sleeping through the night.

I made it a quick change, however, and was back in bed within five minutes. I must have drifted off to sleep rather quickly because the next thing I know, I’m being awakened by something nipping at my hand. That “something” was Nutmeg the cat who must have been confused at the sudden change of schedule (she usually gets up with me when I deal with JT’s early rising). I glance at the clock. It’s 5:15 a.m. I bury myself under the covers, forcing Nutmeg to find someone else to bug. I drift off to sleep once again.

30 minutes later the babies start to cry. It’s feeding time.

It’s 6:45 a.m. and I’ve been awake for the past hour. I have been awake because one or both of the babies is always hungry at 6:00 a.m. In fact, at 5:45 I heard one of them stirring and went to get the bottles ready. I have to be ready because nobody should have to be subjected to unadulterated baby rage at 6:00 a.m. And, believe me, my babies can get pissed faster than a New York minute.

So, here I am, bottles ready and not even a peep from the bedroom. I have peeked in just to make sure they’re alive. They are. So no need to really worry. I guess I just have to wait. But I’m definitely going to have to remind them about the importance of The Schedule. Defying the schedule is simply unacceptable.

In the past I have written about just how painful operating on 3 to 4 hours a sleep a night can be. The first 6 to 8 weeks were the most difficult period of time I have ever encountered. On one hand I had these two beautiful babies that I loved with all of my heart. On the other hand, I was cranky, tired, and feeling disconnected from everything.

The good news is that things have been gradually getting better. It started about 3 weeks ago when Brianna began sleeping through the night. One night, we were feeding her at 8:00 p.m. 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. and the next night she skipped the 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. feedings and has never looked back.

Jonathan, however, has been a different story.

From the beginning, JT has been difficult when it comes to eating and sleeping. He had a touch of reflux and he also does not handle changes in humidity well. He wakes up at night and has trouble breathing. Being the loving father (and the sleepy, wanting-to-go-back-to-sleep father) that I am, I would take JT back to bed and let him sleep on my belly. Often, it was the only way to appease him. It certainly was the easiest. So, after waiting for JT to catch up to Bri in the sleep through the night department, we noticed a pattern. While we finally got him to skip the 11:00 p.m. feeding, he was still waking up at 3:00 a.m. like clockwork. I would feed him but we started to reduce the amount. Even after feeding it would take having him on my belly to go back to sleep.

This had to stop.

So, two nights ago I got tough. When JT awoke at 3:00 a.m. I picked him up, soothed him and them put him right back down. After 20 minutes of doing this I somehow stuck my finger in his mouth where he started sucking and calmed down considerably. Now JT normally doesn’t like pacifiers. Bri uses them to sleep but that’s it. So after 15 minutes with my finger in JT’s mouth I finally thought, “Okay, I can’t stand here all night.” So, I ran and got a pacifier from Bri, stuck it into JT’s mouth and prayed. Well, what do you know? In about 5 minutes Jonathan was asleep with no feeding and no belly sleeping.

Last night, he again awoke at 3:00 a.m. This time, I didn’t pick him up. I placed the pacifier in this mouth. He spit it out. I put it in again. He spit it out again. I put it in and, this time, held it in his mouth. Seeing he was up against a man who really wanted to sleep and had no intention of playing “fetch” with the pacifier, Jonathan started sucking and sucked himself to sleep in about 5 minutes.

So, I am this close to getting a full night’s sleep. I can taste it! Will tonight be the night? Maybe, maybe not. But it’s coming folks. It’s coming.

Raising twins is challenging. I try not to look too far forward into the future because if I’m having trouble adjusting to the challenges I’m facing right now, what good will it do me to open my eyes to a whole new set of challenges I haven’t even thought about yet This philosophy of not looking too far into the future is very prevalent in sports vernacular and I have found that it helps to keep my “eye on the ball”, and to “play it one game at a time.”

That being said, every now and then I am forced to confront my eventual reality and sometimes I am left a little unsettled. For example, today I was at Starbucks and noted a mother with two children (a boy and a girl) that looked to be about five years old. The boy caught my attention as he was hanging from the area where the coffee was placed for pick-up. Then the two chased each other around the store as the mother only half-heartedly looked on. The mother looked sorely defeated. She was not just losing the battle, she had already lost the war. As I watched the two wreak havoc on the store, condemning the poor mom in my mind for her utter lack of control of the situation, I came to a startling realization…

These two kids were twins. Boy/Girl twins.

I asked the question that I already knew the answer to. “Are they twins?” I asked.

“Yes.” The younger-than-she-looked mom sighed.

“I have two-month-old boy/girl twins at home.” I said.

She then looked at me with what could only be described a mix of pity and smug satisfaction and replied, “Good luck.”

I laughed a nervous laugh and she looked me in the eye and said, in a way that left little doubt as to the meaning behind her words, “They start Kindergarten next week.”

For the first time, she smiled.

As I watched the twins continue to run around the store I tried injecting some humor into the situation by commenting, “Yeah, I’m counting my blessings that the babies can’t yet walk or talk.”

With that, in one swoop she picked up her coffee, corralled the kids as they ran by and, as she ushered them out the nearby door replied, “You should be.”

There’s also a sports saying that came to mind as she left.

“Sucker Punched.”

I am sitting in the quiet of our downstairs, knowing the babies are sound asleep and then I hear it. At least I think I hear it.

I’m in the shower, knowing Andrea has the babies quiet and calm. And yet, as the water cascades over my head, drowning out all noise, I swear I hear it.

I am in the garage, putting away the lawn mower and knowing I have at least an hour before the babies have to feed again. And there’s that sound again. I know it’s there.

Can’t you hear that Can’t you!

I swear I hear the unmistakable sound of babies crying.

The short staccato “eh-eh’s” and the longer drawn out “uuuuuuuuuaaaaaaah” crescendo-ing into an all out cry to humanity “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!.” The sound that can bring rain or, at least, parents running from a 1/2 mile radius.

The crying, it’s there alright. And each time I hear it, I rush upstairs or turn off the shower or run in from the garage and find…

Silence.

Nothing.

A quiet so real, even the crickets have called it a night.

Damn. It happens all… the… time. I imagine babies crying. It’s not enough I hear real crying all the time, now I have to imagine I hear it too. I feel like that cute kid actor in the Bruce Willis movie - the one who saw dead people. Only I hear phantom babies crying.

And boy there can be some crying in this household. I can’t get away from it. First one baby cries, then the other, then both together hitting decibels only heard at your local airport. And now, if I’m not in the room with the babies I hear them cry only to find out… I’m going crazy.

Like right now! I SWEAR I hear crying. It sounds soooo real.

What’s that

Oh, damn, that really is crying.

Gotta go.

When it comes to life with twins, schedules are good. Being off schedule BAAAAAAD. Imagine how it would be when you feed one baby, burp one baby, change one baby, put one baby to bed and then have to do it all over again with baby #2 after just a few moments of rest. After a while it seems that we are feeding, burping, changing babies all… day… long.

So, the rule around here is obey the schedule. When the schedule is followed, everyone is happy. Mom is happy, Dad is happy and, for the most part, babies are happy. The only problem with schedules is that JT and Bri act like they didn’t get the memo about how important these schedules are. Every now and then, one of them insists they need to eat again after just an hour and a half when clearly the schedule says they shouldn’t be hungry for another two hours. Then, when it IS time for a dual feeding, one baby wants to sleep while the other is ravenous. This is how the ugly cycle of chaotic non-schedule begins. Needless to say, we try to avoid this.

So, with this in mind, the other night at around 2:00 a.m. Jonathan starts to cry, telling us “Hey guys, I’m feeling just a tad bit hungry over here.” Yeah, right. It’s more like “HEY YOU TWO, SHAKE YOUR TAIL OVER HERE AND FEED ME BECAUSE IT’S BEEN THREE WHOLE HOURS SINCE I’VE EATEN!!! ARE YOU TRYING TO STARVE ME AROUND HERE!!! MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!!” Now, when this happens we usually grab the pre-measured, already prepared bottles and scoop up a baby and go to town. This night, however, Andrea wants to breast feed Jonathan to ease some discomfort in her breasts. She grabs JT and heads out to the loft to feed him. Meanwhile, I glance down at Brianna, marveling at the fact that JT’s eardrum piercing scream didn’t wake her. I decide, since it will take a while for JT to finish eating, I can let Bri sleep a bit longer and still feed her in time to keep up the ever important schedule. (Okay, okay, I wanted some more sleep, so sue me). So, anyway, I lay down and the next thing I know Andrea is in the room handing me a baby. She says something to me. I nod and take the baby while Andrea exits the room. Andrea’s words do not register with me. I hear “Mmphysm blmsksls, I nakdkdk ajaj ajajaja.” What she in fact said, I learned later, was “Take him and change him while I go pump.”

I do not take him and change him. Instead my mind tells me that I’m supposed to be feeding a baby. I figure there’s a baby in front of me, so I better get to work. Some time goes by and Andrea returns. She looks at me, sitting in bed, half asleep feeding a baby that has already been fed and asks the obvious question, “Why are you feeding Jonathan”

My mind starts to whirl. I’m aware of conflict - what psychologists call congnitive dissonance - and struggle to reason why I’m feeding a baby that’s already been fed. Finally, I can come up with no other answer than a feeble, “I… don’t… know.”

I get up, change Jonathan and pick up a stirring Brianna. I proceed to the loft to feed her while Andrea returns to bed. Bri is very hungry at this point and sucks down her bottle in record time.

I return her to her crib and slide into bed for a few hours of sleep before I go solo at the next feeding. When I awake at 5:30 a.m. they are both ready to feed.

For the moment, the schedule is saved.

I have become adept at doing everyday chores and tasks with one hand while I hold a cranky baby in the other. Last night, for example, I heated up dinner in the microwave, ate, and cleaned up (including loading the dishwasher) all while holding a heavier-by-the-day Jonathan.

While I can get by with one hand, I’m not perfect at this. For example, it’s not uncommon to finish eating something and then looking down to realize that what’s on baby’s head is not dandruff or cradle cap but, in fact, crumbs from the piece of bread I was just eating.

Eating is not the only thing I can do with one hand. I have posted to my blog, taken pictures of babies, read the paper (turning the pages of a newspaper with one hand is not as easy as I imagined!) and emailed friends. Of course, typing slows from about 65 words per minute to about five words per minute (mainly because words will come out looking like “tyghkd” and I’ll have to start over again).

My biggest adventure was getting the mail with a baby in tow. Our mail box is a shared box that is across the street from our house. Our mail box is on the bottom and I have to stoop down to get the mail. Since we have been in the house for a year and we recently had babies, our mailbox is regularly stuffed with junk mail pushing mortgages, mortgage insurance, formula, diapers and all things house and baby. While trying to pull out the moutain of mail, I found out how difficult it was to pull out thirty pieces of mail while holding a baby. For a brief moment I thought about setting baby down on the ground but then I had visions of Andrea looking out the window and catching me - guaranteeing that I would never hear the end of it. So, I squatted in a catchers stance, placed baby across my thighs while my upper body folded over the baby and using both hands I was able to organize the mail in a way that I could carry it all home. I headed home with a sense of satisfaction that one gets after solving a complicated problem.

Simple victories folks.