Sunday, January 31, 2010
Day 847 - One Singular Sensation
People still ask us what it's like to raise twins, and quite honestly I don't know how to answer them. Sometimes I humor them and go into a long winded explanation of how crazy it is. Other times I'm sick of the question and tell them it's like raising two of their one ugly child.
Lisa and I just don't have anything to compare it to. We've never had the experience of raising one child or more than two. I guess I could compare it to raising a couple of goldfish I had as a child, but that ended in a tragic aquarium pump accident which is one reason I don't allow humidifiers in the playroom.
A few days ago, Emma refused to take a nap. I explained that if she did not take a nap, Daddy would not be able to finish Uncharted 2: Among Thieves on his beloved PS3. Evidently, she did not care that Nathan Drake was about to be decapitated by a helicopter because she continued to cry. I begrudgingly turned off the television and took Emma out of her crib.
Andrew was still asleep, so I just let Emma play with her toys until Andrew woke up. Surprisingly, Andrew slept for another hour. It was just Emma and me...and I got to tell you...it gave me a glimpse into what it is like to have one child. All I got to say is, "Holy crap!"
Listen, I'm not saying it's not difficult to raise one child or that what we're going through with twins is so unique. There are many families out there that have it much harder than us. It's just that during that one hour with one child, my senses were attuned to things that I have long forgotten. I forgot that it was possible to have silence during the daytime. I forgot that you don't have to see the world solely through your peripheral vision. And I totally forgot the feel of the remote control in one hand and your ass on the sofa while your kid plays quietly by herself.
Even if it was just for an hour, the contrast between one kid versus two kids was quite dramatic. The bottom line with twins is that there's never a quiet moment or a moment to yourself. But with just one kid awake, it was a lot calmer and mellower; it was like a Jack Johnson song. The best way to describe the difference that I experienced is that if it's quiet with one kid, it probably means that they're happily playing by themselves. If it's quiet with twins, it probably means they set something on fire or they dragged a corpse through the back door.
As the hour of zen ended with Andrew crying to get out of his crib, Emma immediately stopped coloring, leaped off the floor, ran to the bedroom door, and said, "Andrew! Andrew! Andrew get up!" I walked to open the door, and Emma rushed to Andrew's bed. Andrew's crying transitioned into laughter as he and Emma shared some sort of twin inside joke. So although I savored the hour of peace and quiet, there's something to be said about moments like these. And as an added bonus, getting two hugs at the same time ain't too shabby either. I think Lisa agreed to the latter because she was mumbling about getting two of something at the same time during college, but she didn't finish her sentence.