Episode 2- Conspiracy Theories and Dark Family Secrets

Captain's Log:  3:46 AM- Tuesday
I think the girls are conspiring against me.  Treicy says that I'm hallucinating from sleep deprivation or maybe dreaming it but I swear I hear them whispering to each other at night through the baby monitors.  I lie there, pretending to be asleep and listen to them as they plan and scheme different ways to torture me.  "And what do they say to each other?" asked the wife one day with a roll of the eyes.  "I don't know" I said.  "They're very sneaky.  They speak to each other only in French so that I can"t understand them."  She just stared at me for a while and then slowly walked away shaking her head while re-evaluating her life decisions.  I don't care what anybody says... I hear them whispering.  How can I have the same dream every night?  They're mocking me.  They know their mother will never break... but me?  They are on to me.  They know I'm the weak link in this organization.  They calculate the exact moment that I will be in the bathroom so that they can attack.  They are cunning... they are savvy... they are ruthless.  Treicy says everything will get better once I catch up on my sleep.  She might be right... but I've already registered for some online French lessons just to be safe.  Au Revoir!

Captain's Log:  3:09 AM- Thursday
I'm so tired that I can't feel my ears.  I think I'm sleeping wrong.  I've reached the stage where I am now physically hurting myself while I sleep.  How is that even possible?  I need to keep it together.  I know what's really upsetting me.  It isn't my ears.  It's that the girls know my secret.  Every family has skeletons in the closet... those dark family secrets that they don't want anyone from the outside world to know about  Well... they know mine.  And here it is:  They are not identical twins... and yet, for the life of me, I cannot tell them apart.  It's been more than 3 months and I am even more confused now than when I first got them.  My list of transgressions includes, but is not limited to:
1) Last week I fed Renata twice thinking she was her sister the second time around and made her sick to her stomach while her sister went hungry.   I couldn't figure out why both of them were crying.
2) Last month, I introduced Catalina as Renata for the entirety of their baby shower to all of our friends.
3) I mistakenly gave Catalina medicine when Renata had a cold and then wondered why Renata wasn't getting better and why Catalina was so groggy.
The list goes on and on.  Their mother has never confused them.  Not once, not ever.  But I am at a constant loss.  The way I tell them apart now is that Catalina has a small shaved patch on her forehead from the IV that they had in her while she was in the hospital (they couldn't find a good enough vein in her arm).  I always check the forehead of the baby I'm holding just to make sure who it is.  While I understand that this is a temporary solution, I am currently contemplating the idea of continuing to shave Catalina's forehead until she turns 27.

Captain's Log:  3:22 AM- Saturday
Last night I witnessed something during the 3 AM feeding that I still have not been able to process in my mind.  Renata was on the changing table getting a fresh diaper from her mother when I stumbled into the room with the 2 bottles of formula for their feeding.  I was disoriented, confused and limping as I had just managed to step on all 487 of Esteban's Lego pieces with my bare feet as I made my way to the kitchen in the dark.  I was about to wake up Catalina when a noise came out of Renata that I had never heard before.  It sounded like the combination of a dragon growling followed by a vintage 1963 Volkswagen Bus backfiring.  When I turned around, I saw that she had just shot projectile poop 4 feet across the room and against the wall.  Treicy had a look of shock on her face that reminded me of the scene from the movie Alien when the outer space creature pops out of that guy's chest during dinner. We just sort of looked at each other in silence for a while before breaking out in hysterical laughter.  Just between us... I may have been laughing on the outside, but I was crying on the inside.  That was the scariest shit I have ever seen (pun intended).

Episode 1- Baby Zombies and Infomercials

Captain's Log:  3:08 AM

Twelve... Three... Six... Nine.
Twelve... Three... Six... Nine.
Twelve... Three... Six... Nine.
Twelve... Three... Six... Nine.
Twelve... Three... Six... Nine.

Their names are Renata (left) and Catalina (right) and that is their feeding schedule.  Every day.  Every... single... day.  This includes weekends, holidays, leap years, sick days, vacation days, comp days and Arbor Day.   No matter what the circumstances or the situation... Every 3 hours, these baby zombies need to feed.

Each feeding is unique in it's own way.  The day shift (9AM, Noon, 3PM) is pretty standard stuff.  They're in and out of naps throughout and when they're awake they are relatively calm except during the afternoon poop tsunami which usually rolls in after lunch.  The 6PM is a tricky one because the house is at it's loudest and busiest.  Everybody is home and trying to eat dinner and do homework which is when they will usually organize all sorts of diversionary tactics (spitting up all over their PJs... refusing to eat... etc.) that are designed to throw a wrench into our evening schedule.  The 9PM is good if you play it right.  The trick is to keep them awake from 6-9 PM so that they are ready to sleep immediately after their 9 o'clock bottle.  The midnight feeding is, by far, my favorite.  By midnight they are deep in REM sleep, already tired and groggy and usually go right back down after they finish their bottle.  The 6AM is, also, not so bad because it's close to the time that we get up anyway.  It's the start of a new day.  The sun is up, people are outside jogging or going to work.  It's like a fresh start.  But the 3AM.... is a whole different animal.

The 3AM is when you are at your most vulnerable.  I'm so tired right now that I can't keep my thoughts straight.  I can't remember the access code that unlocks my phone but that's okay because I also can't remember where my phone is so it all evens out.  All I want to do right now is to go back to bed and I'll do anything... or say anything in order to make that happen.  Last week I actually offered them Esteban"s Halloween candy if they agreed to go back to sleep.  I, of course, failed to factor in that they have no teeth nor are they able to digest processed sugars but it was worth a shot.   3AM is tough because they've already been asleep for 6-7 hours.  It's a 50-50 shot that they don't go back to sleep afterwards.  They will probably want to stay up for a while.  Not too long.  Just like 45 minutes or so... just long enough for you to lose your window of opportunity for going back to sleep.  Just long enough to crush your soul.   The 3AM is the  ultimate truth.  It is just and swift with punishment for the weak.   The 3AM smells fear and self-doubt (two of my biggest traits).  The 3AM separates the pretenders from the contenders.  You think you make a good parent?  Don't show me how good you are at 3PM... show me your stuff in the dead of night when it feels like no one else on the planet is awake except for you and 2 fussy babies.  When there's nothing on TV except for that infomercial where that guy cuts a boat in half and then puts it back together with that waterproof tape.  The 3AM is the stuff that legends are made of.  The 3 AM is no joke... The 3AM is for real.

Unlike my wife, I have zero experience with 6-week-old humans.  Her maternal instincts have been on maximum overload ever since she was a pre-teen and helping to raise her younger brothers and cousins back in Puerto Rico.   She's a natural.  Watching her with the babies is beautiful and pure.  It's like watching a professional golfer warm up.  They make it look so easy and smooth until you actually pick up a club and try to swing it yourself and realize how incredibly hard it is to do correctly.   It never even occurred to me go near a baby when I was growing up; I was too busy getting beat up by my older cousins.  But I am confident in my abilities to adapt and overcome any situation.  Just think of me as a Navy SEAL minus the courage and the physical fitness.  This journey is just beginning and I am confident that I will achieve victory... and if not, I'll just use my secret weapon.  I will guilt my wife into nursing both of them while I pretend to be sick and do crossword puzzles in the bathroom.  Hey... I don't make the rules about maternal instincts... I just exploit them to the fullest.  Sweet dreams.