I Sleep At Red Lights: A True Story of Life After Triplets, by Bruce Stockler

I have to preface this review by saying that I do not have multiples myself, so my reading of this book was purely for giggles and not out of any need or ability to commiserate with the author.

To dispense with the immediate question on everyone's mind, Stockler, a magazine editor, and his wife, Roni, a high-powered attorney in New York City, became pregnant with triplets on a final, last-ditch attempt at IVF, in an effort to give their young son a sibling. They are shell-shocked at the news that they will have triplets, and spend the next nine months in denial about their situation. They make no plans for the care of the babies, down to not having diapers or anywhere for the babies to sleep, the entire time Roni is pregnant, even though she is on bedrest for the last few months of the pregnancy and, frankly, had nothing but time on her hands to plan. Unfortunately, this sets the tone for their entire lives; they are unprepared mentally, emotionally, and financially to deal with the situation they have created.

I have no idea how this family has even managed to stay together, to be honest with you. At least half of the book is devoted to describing how their marriage began as the 'wrong people who got together for the wrong reasons', and detailing their fights. From the account given here, Stockler has a good relationship with his sons, and their nanny. If I were his wife, I'd watch out for that. Add to this Roni's complete unavailability, both as a wife and parent (due to her determination to be partner in her law firm, she is gone sixteen hours a day, minimum, works weekends and holidays, and refused to get up at night with the children, ever), Stockler's repeatedly acknowledged lack of attachment to one of the triplets, Hannah (because she is a girl), and their inability to even deal with the mail (which they simply throw into boxes in the basement rather than paying the bills). He also spent a great deal of time grousing about finances, but it was difficult to feel sorry for them due to things like their employ of an all-encompassing nanny who, for the first five weeks of the babies' lives, cooked their meals and did their laundry in addition to doing all the feedings. Granted, they did not pay for this entirely by themselves, but the fact that they had her at all, plus their regular full-time nanny, speaks of people who are in no position to feel sorry for themselves. Lawyers and magazine editors do not get to whine about money.

While at first the story was interesting, the memoir became stale as the triplets became older and the initial zaniness of the situation wore off. The editing is poor, and as a result the book contains multiple passages containing the same material along with various awkwardly-written segments; I would have hoped for better from a (former - he was fired from his magazine job) big-time editor. Most disappointing, however, was the lack of in-depth stories relating to how the triplets handled things outside the home, like preschool, or how their older brother coped with the entire process as an individual. Instead, Stockler focused entirely on the children, his wife, and even the townspeople as related to him, and skipping years entirely rather than using the slowing of the craziness to detail how he and Roni pulled their marriage back together. Perhaps they haven't. Regardless, I wonder how his family has reacted to the publication of this book, and how his daughter will feel as she becomes old enough to read her father's memoir to hear that he always put her down first, as quickly as possible. I wonder if we will hear from *her* at some point, in her own memoir, about surviving life with three spoiled brothers, an absent mother and a distant father. Hopefully it will be a more thoughtful, well-organized piece of writing.

In short, this could have been a sweet, humorous ode to parenting of multiples. In reality, it almost serves as a litany of how not to parent, partner, or, sadly, write.

Rating: Two Stars out of Five - mildly entertaining, in a train-wreck kind of way