by Stefanie Wilder-Taylor (Make Mine A Double)
Years later neither of us had made much progress although he insisted he was ready to get married and have kids. “I’m sure she’ll call you back at some point,” I told him referring to the model/actress/dancer he’d taken out on one extremely expensive dinner date hoping to impress her. “But she’ll probably be calling to borrow money. If you really want to date someone stable, why do you keep picking actresses?”
“I know, I know. What I want is a sweet Jewish girl who will worship me and be a great mother to my children but she has to have a smokin’ hot ass. I’m asking too much, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, Dave. I think you are. You need to lower your expectations because what you want from another person and from yourself is just not attainable. Look at me; I’m dating a guy with a small penis and I’m perfectly happy.”
“You’re right. I’m going to work on this issue harder. I think I’m willing to settle for an ass that’s simply tight. You know like a swimmer’s ass.” I gave up.
Approximately five or six years later, I was married and living in the valley when I got the news that David had finally found someone for keeps; a pretty, Jewish, cool woman with a seemingly very nice but realistic rear end and reasonably sized teeth. She was exactly right for him and I was ecstatic for them both. They got married, bought a house together and began trying to start a family. Unfortunately, that part wasn’t so ideal. While I was popping out babies like the Octo-mom, they struggled for years with hardcore fertility issues going from doctor to doctor trying every method imaginable. So it was cause for much celebration on Tuesday when I attended the bris for their 8-day-old twin boys.
I arrived just on time to their beautiful house, hugged everyone I knew, grabbed a bagel, lox and cream cheese and made my way into the back bedroom where it turned out the rabbi was preparing the babies for the circumcision. My plan was to just catch a glimpse of the babies and get the hell out of the room because I definitely wanted no part of any snipping action, but when the rabbi asked me to hold the baby he’d just prepped, I found myself too mesmerized to leave. I’d almost forgotten what absolute perfect little miracles infants are. As I held and cuddled all six pounds of sweetness, the rabbi undressed the other baby and that’s when things took an ugly turn.
Raising preemie twin girls plus a sassy preschooler while trying to make a book deadline isn't for wussies. In her Mommy Track'd column, Make Mine a Double, Stefanie Wilder-Taylor takes imperfect parenting to an art form. Each week she breaks the pristine laws of the mommy manuals as she reveals how she attempts to parent her three children through instinct, intelligence, and a lot of trial and error. She is the author of Sippy Cups Are Not for Chardonnay, Naptime Is the New Happy Hour, and It's Not Me, It's You: Subjective Recollections from a Terminally Optimistic, Chronically Sarcastic and Occasionally Inebriated Woman. She’s appeared numerous times on The Today Show, is a member of the Us Weekly Fashion Police and writes on her blog, Baby On Bored.
