The boys will do just about anything for a twizzler. It must be some sort of drug for them or something like that. I mean, they won’t do shit when we ask them to, absolutely nothing. We can ask them to pick up a piece of paper and you’d think we were asking them to write a dissertation on it!!! But, for a twizzler – they’d build the empire state building for a twizzler. It’s the most amazing thing – freakin’ twizzlers.
I knew before they were born that the boys would be assholes. I mean, not like real assholes. Like when you are driving and someone cuts you off and you yell inside the car, even though no one can hear you – “Hey asshole”. I mean like assholes in that they never ever ever make anything easy for us – and you think under your breath – ‘gosh you are such assholes’. Other things I’ve mumbled under my breath and a few times not under my breath are “little shits” and “little fuckers”.
Anyway, back to why I knew about all this before they were born. So, at 35 weeks (about a week and half before we were expecting them) one night my wife starts feeling like something is wrong. This would be their way of telling us they wanted out. Trust them to choose the day where all the roads were closed due to the U.N. meeting – so we are on our way to the hospital as an emergency, it’s 25 blocks away and we were sitting in traffic and not moving at all. I flagged down an officer. The officer leaned down to ask how I could be helped. All I did was point to my wife’s belly and said “Cornell Hospital”. You’d think he’d be used to situations like this, but instead he jumped almost anxiously – like I had just shown him something like from that scene in Men in Black where the woman is having an alien baby. No? Ok, nevermind. Anyway, he spoke to some other officers near-by and next thing you know, we had a police van escorting us uptown – not a cruiser mind you, I mean a big fucking 12 person van that took up nearly 2 lanes. I mean how many kids do you know who have had an encounter with the police before they are even fucking born. We came to find out that she had gotten preeclampsia basically overnight. I had to go back home but with all the traffic, cars were as ineffective as ear plugs at a Gun N’ Roses concert. I ran home. Packed the bag. I ran back. This was a sign that my darling devils would be high maintenance. They were born a few hours later with an emergency C-Section.
Life with Twins is like being in some kind of exclusive club. Although that club is rapidly growing, there is a special feeling with having twins. There is also a special bond between the parents of twins. It’s like we know how hard it is. It’s like we secretly all think, “those parents of single babies have it so easy” and when they whine about how hard life is, we just want to say “please shut the fuck up”.
mydarlingdevils 