Twins Blog: 2 Weeks in the Life

March 08, 2011, By Josh Katzowitz 1 comment

Josh Katzowitz

Here are two weeks in the life of my wife and me as we raise our infant twins, Stella and Noah. Three short vignettes equate to a long, but satisfying fortnight. Three short vignettes that create memories which will last a lifetime.

Saturday, the 3rd: I had a strange dream last night. I dreamed about my kids – I think for the first time – and I guess it makes sense. For the first time since the twins came home from the hospital, I spent an entire day and night away from them.

Four of them actually. Four days where I couldn’t give them a bath or hold them in my arms or smother their faces with my kisses.

I drove from Cincinnati through Columbus through Cleveland through Erie, Pa., and through Buffalo to get to Syracuse, N.Y., where I watched my first cousin marry the love of her life.

Logistically, my wife and I knew it’d be too tough to bring our family of four – either through the air or while driving the 10-hour trip. So, I went alone. And dreamed that Stella, less than five months old, had a conversation with me. Noah was sleeping at the time, but Stella talked and talked and talked. About what, I don’t remember.

But I was far away from home and consciously – and unconsciously, I suppose – I knew it. And I missed my kids. When I returned, the kids looked bigger, and the house looked a little smaller. Luckily, I didn’t have to dream about them any more, because they were right in front of me.

They didn’t have to say a word.

Sunday, the 11th: There’s something wonderfully quirky about the way Noah and Stella wake up for their middle-of-the-night bottle feedings. Noah spazzes out. His legs and arms all move at once, he snorts, and he shakes his head from side to side (from my chin to my shoulder) like he’s at a Megadeath show. He tries like hell to keep the light out of his eyes, but he can’t figure out how to keep his hands over his face.

Stella makes the same expression and poses in the same position every night. She puts her right hand behind her head. She puts her left hand under her chin. She looks like Bette Davis posing for publicity still. And she HATES to wake up in the middle of the night. Just abhors it.

But sometimes, when they’re done feeding and I’m burping them over my shoulder, they make the sweetest little moaning sounds, the kind you want to bottle up and save for future consumption.

A few other eccentricities. When I burp him in the middle of his feeding, Noah licks my hand. It’s at once endearing and sort of gross. Stella sometimes gets distracted by the light, or she falls asleep while the bottle is between her lips. It’s at once adorable and sort of maddening.

Sometimes, when I lift them out of their cribs and before they’ve awoken to the feeling of me changing their diapers, I hold them on my shoulder and dream in the present. I breathe in the moments I know are so fleeting. I ingest the quirkiness into my lungs, and I try – for as long as possible – not to exhale. They’re so sweet and innocent. I don’t want that to change.