Dark and Stormy

It was the lime that made me cry.

This drink was made for me for the first time by Lila's godmother. It was made for me the second, third, and fourth time by her as well. The drink is called a Dark and Stormy and its recipe is simplicity itself: Ice, a few fingers of dark rum, a bottle of Jamaican-style ginger beer, and a wedge of lime. And, like I said, it was the lime that made me cry.

The twins were seven months old when the lime made me cry, so it wasn't really that big of a deal. Everything made me cry back then. I blame it on my wife's hormones. We were spending a week down the shore and the week was not going well. Lila's godmother had taken it upon herself to mitigate some of the psychic damage the twins were wreaking on us all by mixing Dark and Stormies each afternoon and distributing them willy-nilly until all hands were holding at least one, sometimes two or more. I was usually a "more."

It was something in the way she handled the lime that did it. She'd cut out a wedge, and then just leave the lime right there on the counter, like she was saying, "Don't worry, little lime. I'll be right back with you in a moment." It was just so... so casual. It brought home to me how there was nothing whatsoever casual about my life right then. I could no more be expected to get "right back" to that lime than I could be expected to solve world peace. Those were the days in which I used to eat my breakfast cereal dry, because adding milk meant I had to finish it before it got soggy. Milk gave the cereal a deadline that simply was not realistic. And even dry, some days that cereal bowl would still be sitting there, full, when my wife came home from work that evening. Those were hard, hard days.

So it was one night that week, one of many, that I was up with the twins,  strapping them into their carseats so at least the rest of our shore rental house would be spared their 3 AM infernal wailing, that I passed the lime on the counter. It had three or four wedges missing, but it was still there, waiting for the next round of drinks. And I lost it. I drove around Ocean City that night, back and forth on the deserted roads, with the twins in the back of the minivan slowly trading in their cries for sighs and sleep, and I bawled. I wished that someone would come and put me in the back of a minivan and drive me around. I wished that my only responsibility were going to sleep.

I wished I could cut a wedge out of a lime and promise it I'd be right back.

Comments

[Shawn]

Yeah. Yes. I know. God, I know. And your a dude. Imagine being the hormonal one with the sagging stomach. I could have filled drying lakes with the tears from that first 10 months.

We're in the thick of 2.5 and I sometimes waver on the edge ... is it as bad as back then? No. No. Nothing can be that hard. Nothing. Well, perhaps triplets.

Wonderful post. I'm going to link to it this week.

[Shawn]

I meant you're a dude ... yikes.

[Laura]

Great post. You put into words something I struggle with as a mom of two singletons (5 & 1). I can't count how many times I've opened the microwave and found yesterday's oatmeal, now a brick, mocking me.

[qwyneth]

Jesus. I'm 11 weeks pregnant now and terrified. This was planned, but reading this sort of thing makes me want to run far, far away from my uterus.

[Queenie]

The day that I cried the most was the day I was dying of thirst from nursing the screaming, colicky newborn for hours while the two-year-old shrieked and threw things. I was SO thirsty. They finally both stopped screaming for a moment and I had time to jump up and pour myself a glass of water--but I didn't actually have time to drink it. That was a bad day.

[Amber]

This is beautiful writing. My babies are a year and 21 days apart. People think they are twins, I feel like they are twins (based on horror stories I read here). I have felt like the lime, waiting for someone to come back to me. Usually while I was driving fussy babies around in the middle of the night. Once I was too tired to drive and contemplated calling a cab. I decided that might not be safe, and just sat in the car in the driveway. It actually worked that time.

[Just another twin mom]

Amen Brutha!

[Kat]

I grew up spending every summer in Ocean City, MD. Good memories of that place. You're a brave, strong man. It look you a while to cry. WE only have one kid, and my husband was only up with him through one night when he broke down.

[Meg]

I remember those days all too well. I have a singleton and I felt the same way. Now I realize that I'm a complete wimp. You deserve those tears...I didn't earn them.

[LauraC]

You are such a crazily talented writer. I am always so impressed with every post, but this one may be my absolute favorite.

[Robyn]

Just delurking--after more than a year of regular reading--to say thanks. And wow. That was a dandy piece of writing.

[Givinya de Elba]

I thought I was the only person who bawled like a baby for hours at night while my babies were screaming like angry angry grown-ups. But we desperate lime-forgetting, cereal-leaving people seem to secretly be everywhere. Black-eyed sleep-crazed desperados willing to club anyone to death in the arena of our private hell if they dared to patronisingly question, "Aww, isn't he sleeping through yet?"

[Michelle]

Oh, it's so nice to know that I'm not the only one who's been there!! :)

[Petunia]

I think all who are parents have had those moments (days, months) where exhaustion and responsibility pushed us over the edge. Few could express in writing the love/pain/despair we've all been through as well as this piece does. The number of comments here shows how you've pulled up the emotion out of so many of us, even those of us who were there 30+ years ago. Perhaps, your best piece so far, sir.

[loren]

I just started eating cereal again for the first time in THREE YEARS.

BTW, Alison has pooped on the toilet for almost a week. I'm telling everyone. Feel free to pass it on.

[Bennie]

It must be a similar experience to have a special needs child. I wept so much due to lost sleep, anxiety, and juggling schedules I think I've blocked out my version of "the lime."

As always that's some excellent prose.

[reen]

This was beautifully written, and titled.

To Christie with the Irish twins: I have them too - 11 months apart - and yes. Yes, it does get better. Their infancy/toddlerhood was a big hot steaming vat of tears. But yes. It gets better. Hang in there.

[Denise]

I am laughing through tears at Amber wanting to call a taxi to drive her kids around. If I had thought of that during the two-year period when my boys slept for only two hours at a time, I might have done it.

Also, thanks for "down the shore." Haven't heard that since I moved north.

[Suseoin]

Gee it makes me feel better to hear that someone else had a really hard time with little ones. I get so tired of people either pretending/really experiencing that everything is going smoothly - it is so demoralising! A bit of honesty and understanding goes a long way...

[Minde]

Limes, lemons, hell, all citrus for that matter... (Don't they all go into Blonde Sangria? Another reminder of days gone by...) I'm a mom of two-year old b/g twins. You spoke for me on this post. Perfect.

[Velma]

Oh, this is a goooooood post. I've definitely wanted to switch places with my kids and have someone baby me for a change.

[Kate]

I'm a little late, but this post spoke to my heart as well. Thankfully my twins rarely gave me problems sleeping and I KNOW how easy I had it. But it was still pretty f'ing hard by myself.

Bravo Luther, bravo.

[3-Martini Jennifer]

Ah, the days of crying alone for hours. Those were special... Know that I was crying with you, my friend. While you were at the beach, I was home with my 2-month-old twins, crying over my broken coffee pot. Thanks for bringing it all back!

[Amy the Mom]

For me it was when the twins were two months old. The two weeks where they were awake from 10PM to 2AM each night, I thought I was going insane. Thought? I was insane. I blocked out large chunks of that first year. There aren't enough photographs to jog my memory either.

[Shelle]

I just came upon you site through our BlogHer Ad email and I have been reading for the last 40 minutes just catching up on the last few posts of yours!

You are a great writer...I'm right there with you.

But I had to comment because I too had a "festive toilet" one time and I don't envy you...it is endearing that they try to clean it up for you...but just make a bigger mess.

But to have a screaming child on top of that...WOW you are amazing! :) I had a screaming child also at the time, but it was because i wouldn't let her help me with the cleaning up...