The Michigan-Wisconsin Rivalries unique venue and why Baby Nathan is so much taller then his twin sister Sarah

A few weeks back I was asked to help my baby sister bring her twins to the baby doctor. It just happens that I live the closest and could change my schedule to accommodate her in her time of need. As the oldest of six kids, at an early age I was labeled the responsible one. In actuality, I was looking forward to spending a day with the newborn twins, Sarah and Nathan.

As planned I timed my hour and 15-minute walk perfectly from the east side to my sister’s West Side apartment. But as I rang her doorbell, she yelled from inside her apartment “Come back in 15 minutes I’m milking.” I gladly retreated as memories of an ill-fated day in my youth resurfaced. My upsetting experience occurred at Farmer Ellis’ Vermont farm where Betsy the Cow kicked me as I attempted to manipulate her utters. Her quick strike has since been a staple of MMA fighting and that scar right below my left knee remains as a reminder of that devastating blow. Ophidiophobia, or fear of snakes may be more commonplace, but my lesser-known fear of cows, namely Bovinophobia, petrifies me to this day. I was happy to wait outside my sister’s door.

I decided I would fight my very worst fears and accept the cow scenario as best I could for my Baby sister and her Babies. If nursing was her chosen path, who was I to say otherwise. Moreover, with such a natural gifts, one wonders why she even needed me to help her navigate her stroller through the streets of NYC with her prized cargo.

It was now time to see the twins who appeared more excited to see their favorite Uncle then their preoccupied mother was.

Then Nathan belched surprisingly loud. My sister turned unamused in my direction. I said “blame Nathan, I swear it wasn’t me.” She didn’t seem convinced. We moved on to locking the babies in place in their stroller. Being a bit chilly I asked if perhaps she thought a blanket was in order. “No, there fine, and besides Charlie put additional clothing in the bag if needed.” I was still not convinced, but I was solely there as a helpful transporter, and so I remained silent as I awaited a green light from my sister to showcase my chauffeuring skills.

Finally, my sister signaled that it was time to go. “Remember, your job is to push the stroller without any crashes until we reach the doctors office.” The Doctor’s office happened to be ten blocks, and I couldn’t wait to get started and begin to show off my navigational skills as the double-stroller-champion-walker of NYC. 

The first challenge was getting this unwieldy apparatus into the tiny elevator without any bangs and thuds both to stroller and to the newbies. Mission accomplished! And I even got a nod of approval from my sister. Not expected, but much appreciated.

I was quite proud of my ability to navigate the many sidewalk imperfections. I was simply a natural, darting in and out of a crowd of pedestrians, passing the many dog walkers. Even the women with the greyhound posse seemed impressed by mydexterity and speed as I easily passed them. This was beginning to feel like fun, and if I happened to miss one small divot there was really no referee to penalize me, so no foul no harm. Miraculously the twins’ mother received a phone call exactly as I made my one single miscalculation and hence escaped her wrath. This was turning into a wonderful day with my Baby sister and the Babies.

Anyway, as we reached our destination the mood quickly turned as the nurse greeted us with “You must be the proud parents. The kids look just like their father.” She stared in my direction. My sister was not amused, and in fact horrified by this total falsehood. Before her anger fully exploded, however, I jumped in. “Our family has a number of peculiarities but what you are suggesting I assure you is not one of them”. 

Anyway I bore no grudge toward the nurse, as she was just using common sense, but what came next was unforgivable. After making our way to the changing room, which was quite cold by the way, my sister realized that Charlie had in fact not packed the blanket or additional clothes. Poor Charlie! I knew what was coming, and just as I had predicted, in record time she had him on the phone, and let’s just say she relayed her displeasure. 

Well, just as she was starting to undress the twins the pediatrician walked in, glanced over at me and sneered. I thought this was a bit odd, but decided to let it pass. After all, I’m just the driver for the new additions. 

Everything seemed to be going well and then it all turned to a nightmare. The baby doctor and the baby’s mom, who happens to be a doctor herself, were having their Baby talk.

In the process of measuring the babies’ height, the baby Doc looked at me, and raising her voice said, “We destroyed you guys last week” Clearly, she had wanted to bring up the unfortunate Badger loss from the start, as I was wearing my Wisconsin sweatshirt. I glared at her and answered, “Oh, you must be a Wolverine.” She smiled back. “I’m a proud Michigan grad.” 

That’s all I needed to hear and as any self-respecting Badger Grad might instinctively do, I started to dress the babies for immediate evacuation. Don’t worry Nathan and Sarah it’s your lucky day!! Uncle Neil will not allow anything detrimental to happen to you kids. No 3-week old, make that two 3-week olds or a 58-year-old man that being myself, should ever have to go through such an inDOCtrination. I would do my best to prevent any long-term psychological damage to the toddlers.

All of a sudden the two colluding doctors, my sister being the second, said in unison, “What are you doing?” Isn’t it clear? I responded. I can’t let Nathan and Sarah be examined by a wolverine! NEVER, NEVER, NEVER!!!! I stated in a stern, unwavering voice.

At that very moment, in synchronized fashion, the two docs took a hold of poor Nathan’s feet. In turn, I singlehandedly grabbed both his hands with everything I had. My sister was clearly in cahoots with the doctor, but I was determined to do what’s best for my niece and nephew, even if it meant engaging in a life or death tug-of-war. At that moment, the Doctor told my sister to hold on to both feet as she did another measurement of Nathan’s size. Then I heard her blurt out, “WOW, that’s odd. Nathan just grew 4.5 centimeters.” She then quickly reclasped the baby’s left foot, and then both DOC and Mother screamed in unison “A Mother TRUMPS an Uncle, and we vote to stay.”  

What is wrong with my sister? I wondered. Apparently, our large age gap is not the only one of our differences. And are these doctors really looking out for Nathan’s best interest? Or is this just part of the new sisterhood that has taken over all commonsense? At any rate, I made one more attempt to shake loose the babies so that they may escape the torture they were possibly headed for. 

“Hey-Charlie forgot to put in that spare clothing.” How could he have made such a mistake? MY sister’s concentration predictably wavered. She was torn between calling her husband for possible demerits or focusing on the handling of Nathan, who actually seemed to be relishing all the attention. Sensing my game plan, the baby doctor began to yell “REFOCUS-REFOCUS!” Still, I wasn’t going to give up. But my confidence was beginning to wilt. 

More importantly Nathan was growing and lengthening second by second as we pulled and pulled. All I now needed was a split second to escape with my two treasures, but the docs would not give me the chance. Just then the baby doc cried “Hold Mom!” and did another measurement with a Holy Cow (I hate that expression). Nathan had grown another 3.2 centimeters. My sister was now in an utter trance. All interest in contacting the father for his failures had dropped out of her head. For the first time I thought I might not be able to free the kids after all. I needed another plan.

The two doctors continued to work in unison, like a team that had practiced for years and years. When my sister finally took a break, the baby doc became responsible for both appendages. The sisterhood was just too tough to overcome.

The doctor finally removed her grasp to scribble down Nathan’s new height, which continued to grow at an unheard of rate.

Furthermore, I was increasingly outnumbered as staff, nurses and security were now on the scene. “Let him go! (him being Nathan) Let him go!!! Let him Go!!!This 7-woman squad was relentless. I finally loosened my grip, saying, “Sorry Nathan, so sorry Sarah. I’m outnumbered by this gaggle of gals. I just hope this memory is not permanent.

I eventually was allowed to take the babies home, although Nathan could barely fit into his stroller, which just minutes earlier had suited him just fine. 

My sister and I were both relieved when we parted for the day. Still, my mission was far from over. Although a poor buyer of products on Amazon, I bought a number of Wisconsin Badger outfits for the infants to be worn solely when visiting the Michigan Doctor. I needed to show that doctor where our allegiance lies. 

GO BADGERS!!!

P.S: Please note size differences of the babies after Nathan’s baby struggle. I just wish we had spent a few minutes fighting over Baby Sarah.