*** At home, I fed Abby first while Talia screamed in her swing. Carl dropped the groceries on the counter. “So? Are you looking for a job?” I burped Abby. “Yes. But I have a condition.” He sighed. “Here we go.” I picked up Talia. “Before I go back, you take care of both girls alone for one full weekend.” “That’s it?” he laughed. “Challenge accepted.” “No calling my sister. No dropping them with your mother. And no pretending one baby doesn’t count.” “So? Are you looking for a job?”
His smile thinned. “I can babysit my own kids.” I looked over Talia’s head. “You don’t babysit children you made. You parent them.” Then I opened our family group chat. “Don’t drag people into our marriage,” Carl snapped. I typed: “Carl believes he should only be responsible for one baby. Since Abby and Talia are twins, I may return to work early. He will care for both girls this weekend.” I held out the phone. “Explain it.” His face drained. “You don’t babysit children you made. You parent them.”
*** The next Saturday, I left with my purse, pump bag, and calm. Carl held Abby awkwardly while Talia cried in the bouncer. “Where are the clean bottles?” “Cabinet by the sink.” “Which cabinet?” “The one you open every day for coffee.” I kissed the girls. “Call for real emergencies, not because you cannot tell cries apart.” I left with my purse, pump bag, and calm.
*** By noon, I had seventeen missed calls. “They won’t stop crying!” “Did they drink?” “They did, maybe one drank twice. I don’t know.” “They’re wearing different colors, Carl.” My sister, Renee, sat across from me with untouched tea. “Check the green notebook by the fridge.” “They won’t stop crying!”
He went quiet. “There’s a notebook?” “Yes. I told you twice.” At 3:40, he texted: “Where are the extra diapers?” I typed back: “The store. Remember?” Renee laughed while angry. I still sent the answer: “Hall closet, top shelf. For the girls. Not for you.” “I told you twice.”
*** On Sunday, he broke the rule and called his mother. Deborah phoned me. “Why is my son alone with two crying babies?” “Because they’re his babies.” “Marriage isn’t about score.” “Ask him why he started splitting our daughters like a bill.” She went silent. “I’m going over.” “Good.” “Marriage isn’t about score.” Read also
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