When the boys were getting many more bottles than they are now, and we had to reheat breastmilk in the bathroom sink I would poke and prod him to get out of bed and start the milk warming.
He would get out of bed, and lumber to the kitchen - then I'd hear water running in the bathroom (that's where the tap water is the hottest) and then he'd come back.
Fifteen minutes later when I got up to retrieve the bottle... there was no bottle warming.
This happened 3 or 4 times.
"Travis," I would say, "I thought you were heating up a bottle."
"Yeah, I did."
"No. There's no bottle here."
"What? I don't... um... I'm sorry."
What was he doing if not heating up a bottle?
Neither of us knows.
Most nights Travis and I have a conversation almost exactly like this:
Becky: Travis. Wake up.
Travis: Okay. I'm up.
Becky: I need you to go get Grey.
Travis. Yeah. Okay.
Becky: Wake up.
Travis: Yes. I'm awake.
Becky: Go get Grey.
*I wait, and he doesn't move*
Becky: Did you hear what I said?
Becky: What did I say?
Travis: You. Um. What now?
Becky: Go get Grey.
Becky: Go get him right now.
*again, time passes*
Becky: TRAVIS! Wake up! Go get your son!
Sometimes, part way through this conversation he'll say something completely nonsensical, because he's still asleep. For example, "But I don't want to drive all the way through the southwest states," or "Did you tell them I wanted Chinese food?"
Then I say, "Travis, are you awake?
"What did you just say?"
"I said... um... okay. Now I'm awake. I wasn't awake."
Last night was especially pathetic. At 1:00 the boys woke up hungry. Travis helped me get set up, and I started nursing and he left to use the bathroom.
Ten minutes went by, and he didn't return.
I wondered if he'd gone out to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal.
Fifteen minutes went by.
Then another five.
The babies were ready to burp, and I couldn't do it by myself.
"Travis!" I called.
I realized that he must have fallen asleep somewhere.
"Travis!" I yelled. "Travis! Travis! TRAAAAAVIS!"
No reply, and the babies were fussing.
But the thing about nursing twins is, you can't just get up and move around.
I was getting mad, because part of me was suspicious that he had gotten up and gone to sleep on the couch or the guest bed.
"TRAVIS!" I tried one more time. Then, I finally laid the unburped and fussy babies on the bed (which almost always results in vomiting, sadly) and got up to find my husband.
He was sitting on the toilet.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"I'm just going to the bathroom," he said.
"You have been in here for 35 minutes," I said.
"I... what? Really?"
"You fell asleep, but I need you to come help me now."
"I'm sorry," he said, "I can't believe that happened."
Then he stood up, and sat quickly back down.
"My legs are totally asleep," he said.
One of the boys started crying and I went to get him. Travis hobbled after me, wincing and holding on to the walls.
"I can't feel my legs or feet," he said. "AH! Now I can! It feels like pins and needles!"
I think one of the problems is, we need two days on the weekend to recuperate from the week, go grocery shopping, clean, and take turns napping and catching up on sleep.
But when you're in the process of starting your own free lance film company you don't get Saturdays off. It's like any other work day, except that you shouldn't have to work.
It's a bummer.
So today we're spending the day in bed. That's the rule. We're taking turns napping and fixing each other food and being in charge of calming down the babies.
I already feel much better.