Day 1317 - Cardio Done for the Day

Just put my little girl on the bus for her first day of school.

*sniff*

My heart is pounding--about what I'd expect after bungee jumping.

We were so nervous that she'd be scared, anxious, or even experience a meltdown when it was time to board. We had also expected the bus to be very late--which was an educated guess. And then, as should be just as educated a guess, kids surprise us. She was GREAT!
When the bus pulled up, she jumped up and down with excitement--not unlike Daddy's heart. Then we boarded together, whereupon I was scolded and kicked off! Apparently the school forbids parents from getting on the bus. In trouble already. Full circle.

What a milestone. Yes it's "only" preschool. But I sent my baby off on her own to do something that, frankly, I know very little about. We saw her classroom, met her teacher, read the class info--but she's now at school without me--listening to other people's rules, and...having a life. 

Boy is attending another school, which starts early next week--and he gets to ride on Daddy's bus. Maybe a bit more dull. But they get to experience independence from one another, which makes Wifey and me really excited. See, when you're around Boy--there is little independence to be had. He consumes the spotlight, and Girlie has not been exempt from his influence--except she's never known life otherwise! So this is especially important for her!

Breathing again. Holy $%#! I had also wanted to set up a video recording of the event. Yah, best laid plans of butterfly-ridden dads. 

Boy noticed that I was flustered upon returning inside. I was futzing with my laptop, to write this, and he said, "Daddy, are you sad that [sis] is gone?" We then had a discussion about anxiety, love, pride, and nostalgia. Can I tell you how hard it is to toddlerize those concepts?! Maybe it was good for me too. :)

Now we're going to find a city bus to ride. Because that's how it works with twins when one gets to do something the other doesn't. 

In love with them.

Day 1,091 - The Stages (Not?) Set

3 years old. Holy toddleredo.

As the stages and milestones come and go, I sometimes catch myself forgetting what we've all been through. I mean, while keeping it in perspective, it's been...really hard. By perspective, I mean that I'm well aware that we're all reasonably healthy and we have the food and shelter we need. Good fortune. Given that, man has it ever been rough!

Now back to aforementioned forgetfulness--before it's too late. We've made it through the spit-up-geyser stage. We've survived teething, averbal frustation, diapermania x2, and a handful of ER visits.

And what have we learned, class? For one, I've learned that we adapt. And adaptation doesn’t always feel warm and cozy. Sometimes it simply means that our survivalist minds make/allow us to forget how much the previous crises hurt relative to the current one(s)! In other words, damn this whiny, "I don't want to ______!!" Stage. It's the worst ever! Nothing could be worse than thi—oh, right. I literally cried from all the spit-up in year one. I didn't think the three-hour sleep cycles would ever end. I thought for sure I'd be changing 12 diapers a day. Forever.

Well, we forget. To some degree. But, sadly, we forget much of the good stuff too. I don't remember what it felt like to hold two babies whose combined weight was about that of a gallon of milk. And I can't quite access the thought of how it felt to pat their little bottoms as they stuck up in the air while they slept.

So all I seem to have, aside from terabytes of pics and video, is the thought of the current bads and goods. And so I try to stay mindful that the bads are just stages that will fade into history. BUT, generally speaking, they don't make it onto video!

To stem the excessive curmudgetude, please note that the twins are far more delightful than not! I am so happy that they can often verbalize their needs and that potty training is well underwear. Way. They are funny, learning, and increasingly different in personality.

And I love the socks off 'em.

Wait. Didn't I already write this blog?

Day 1000 - Wait, WHAT?!

How can this be? Answer me!

Well, my friends, this is a serious milestone of numeric proportions. I've never done anything hard for 1000 days straight. I've contributed--a decent percentage--to keeping two tiny humans alive for 1000 days! Some might even say they're happy, tiny humans. At least for much of the day.

When I signed up for this gig, of course I had no idea what to expect. I had some vague notion that it would be the hardest thing I've ever tried. But how does one really know what that will mean? Let me just say that despite the heavenly joys, triumphs, and treasured memories, there definitely exists a challenge--day to day--that I could never have anticipated. And furthermore, the game changes on irregular but frequent intervals!

Here's the latest from my world:

After approximately eighteen months of miserable toddler-sleep-habits (e.g. finally falling asleep two hours after being put down, and waking crying more than once a night) I am over-freaking-joyed to report that the past three weeks have been nothing sort of magical. Having tried many, many techniques, tricks, bribes, books and even pharmacological assistance, the wheel finally landed on the correct combination and sleep...returned. The first week was sketchy, ups and downs, but smoothed out and has since been great--not even relatively speaking; it's just been great! Kids are even, on occasion, putting themselves to bed! If I believed in jinxes, I'd probably be discussing poop again now. TwinPop & Wifey's happy sleep has subsequently enjoyed a great resurgence!

HOWEVER...

Day to day activities have taken a serious toll on me. Sometimes the pull and drag and push and refereeing of my days just builds up to the point where my brain heads upstairs and starts packing for Bora Bora. These kids' cognitive abilities (and accompanying manipulation skills) are increasing at an exponential rate. Once you think you've figured out their wily ways, they pull the parking brake and Tokyo Drift your ass.

But comes the reprieve! I've been granted some leave! So my Day 1001 is also the first day of my mental/physical vacay! Haven't yet figured out exactly what I'm doing, but frankly I'd be happy to spend some time sleeping in the attic. Insulation as my pillow.

I love my kids more than words can say. And I will continue to love them as I watch a movie, ride a roller coaster, catch a fish, dig a ditch, and/or bungee jump off TwinPop Tower!

I'll let you know how it goes. Maybe by Day 1245. FREEEDOOOOMMMMMMM!!!

Day 757 - Coming Out of the Dark - for now

It has indeed been the better part of a year since my last entry. I'd like to say that I've simply forgotten, or that I haven't had the time. While there is some truth in both of those, the rest of the truth is that I've been afraid. Sometimes I feel like maintaining the facade of strength and okidokiness. I know it serves no purpose, but I think it's a guy thing. Ingrained.

The fact is that the last several months have served to shatter, to a degree, some idealism regarding my kids. Girlie has been struggling--as, consequently have we--with some anxiety and something of an emotional hair-trigger. As I've mentioned ad nauseum in blogs previous, I have no real frame of reference when it comes to raising kids--only the other twin. So when such a huge divergence occurs, it's hard to ignore. Before I turn both of you off with a completely depressing blog, I'll ask you to stay; it gets a lot happier!

But not quite yet.

On Fathers' Day, eight months ago, our dog bit Girlie on the lip necessitating several stitches. Physically, she's fine and will have only a slight scar which may be all but invisible when she's grown. But this seemed to set off a chain of events, the result of which left her emotionally . . . different. She became somewhat withdrawn, wheras once she would hug and cuddle with people she'd only just met. She also loved to dance--just moving and swaying to the beat like someone who was, well, not a toddler! :) These things all but vanished, replaced by poor sleep & appetite, much more frequent tantrums, and chronic clinginess (but only to Mom and Pop.) We've sought help from several professional sources and have seen some improvement, but only what I might call slight. I had gotten into the habit of taking them both to the gym with me, dropping them off in child care while I worked out. I'd sweat it out, then take a leisurely, hot shower before retrieving them. It was majestic! And then one day, about two months ago, Girlie suddenly started melting down when I'd try to leave. And I mean core breach meltdown--no workout, no how. Subsequently, I've tried to slowly reintroduce her to the child care room--staying there to play, showing her pictures of the room before going in, etc. Suffice it to say, I have not since worked out there unless Wifey has been home with the kids.

Ok, I think now comes the happy part.

At the risk of counting my chickens and/or jinxing the situation . . . Girlie has had a breakthrough! For three nights in a row she has gone down at a reasonable time and for the past two nights (the current night is yet unfolding) she has slept through till morning. This is huge news in Casa TwinPop, amigos! (Incidentally, I haven't mentioned Boy much in this post. While I, of course, love them equally . . . Boy is a sleep rockstar. Girlie was too, but not since her shift.) Anyhow, in a matter of days, her appetite seems to be returning. So too seems to be her attitude, sleep, and confidence. But what may be the greatest joy is, well, her joy. And she's dancing again! I feel like we're getting our happy little girl back from a long, bittersweet hiatus. Again, and I guess this is mostly for me, I'm not trying to fool myself into believing that she'll never again shed a tear or soil a diaper. But no matter what this is, it's certainly not a step backward. And, frankly, I haven't been this happy in several months. Because we know, us parents, when something is different, don't we? How did I get this instinct/insight/perception? Maybe it's airborne, released from tears and diapers. I don't know.

I was on cloud nine today. The previous paragraph was actually a little hard to finish, as it started getting blurry for me. Serious emotion. I don't know what else to say about it.

I suppose I'll finish my longest blog to date by saying how much I love my family. All of them. Oh, and . . .

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love your loved ones . . . even more!

Day 480 - What Can Brown Do For You?

Happy Mothers' Day!

We all celebrated Wifey/Supermom today--her first Mothers' Day in which the babes knew who she is. Wifey made waffles at my request--before I remembered what day it was. Bah! Blew that one! I endeavored to make it up to her by making the rest of the day all about her. Breakfast was followed by nap time for all four of us!

A word about napping--before getting to the titular subject. And oh, it's a story alright.

I had heard it said, and seen it written, that the transition from two to one nap can be...rough. Oh, babies. Again an example of a time to heed the warnings. (Though what I would have done differently eludes me at the moment.) It happened one day. And I mean one day. The night before, bedtime was nightmarish. I forget how late we were up, but I think I may have heard birds outside. Then again, they could have been flying in small circles around my head. Those babes....were....mad. And it became almost instantly clear that nap #2 had slipped off the endangered list into extinction--with no chance of Jurassic-style DNA retrieval.

This new wrinkle took about four days to iron out. The worst part for me, now that I am reasonably confident that the babes will endure and adapt, is that my daytime schedule has been literally turned inside-out. I felt like I was just getting into the swing of playdates, lunches, and errands. (With the occasional and extremely welcome social peer-outing.) Now if I want to leave the house, it's in the morning, getting back for lunch and then putting them down for naps. And not many of the babes' friends are yet on this schedule. Feeling a little lonely again. :'(

And now for the story I promised.

For Mothers' Day dinner, Wifey was honored/imperiled with my offer to cook--which I did. It went pretty well; I have a rather limited repertoire, but this is something that all involved parties recognize and accept. Dessert, however, was her doing--and it was a fantastic chocolate fondue!

Babes in highchairs, bibs snugly in place, garden hose at the ready--melted chocolate was served. This was tasty stuff--complete with banana, pineapple, and strawberries. The babes dug it. Did you ever see the movie, or its remake, The Blob? There's a scene in which a farmer pokes the just-impacted meteorite containing the baby Blob. It crawls up his stick and begins to envelop his arm--and ultimately his entire body. That's sorta' what happened this evening within the two highchairs in our kitchen.

I can not believe how much this chocolate multiplied. It was surely breeding. By the end, Boy had it up and down his legs, up both arms, and covering roughly 65% of his face. Girlie fared better--as she's a neater eater--but was still bordering on envelopment. A friend, who had seen photos of the aftermath, asked if they had murdered Willy Wonka.

We had to video chat. We called some cousins, one of whom encouraged Boy to slap himself in the head--or hair, more specifically. It was bathtime.

Boy was extricated from the chair and Wifey rather adeptly disrobed him and headed upstairs to draw a bath. Girlie was mine to wrangle. I got her out and immediately noticed the familiar aroma of #2. PANIC set in. It was true. She was my dutiful daughter. Why was this worse than any of the thousands of dirties I'd handled? I couldn't set her down without getting chocolate--or worse--on whichever surface she landed. And you can't just throw a child, in that state, in a bathtub!

• Fortunately, our nearby changing table was between laundry stages and did not yet have a cloth covering. Vinyl sounded like a good choice of surfaces! 
• Unfortunately, we were out of wipes!
• Fortunately, there were wipes upstairs in the nursery!
• Unfortunately, I had to carry a poopy, chocolaty, naked baby upstairs by her ankles. 
• Fortunately, I didn't collide her into any doorknobs or corners.
• Unfortunately, there weren't any wipes in the nursery.
• Fortunately, Wifey came to the rescue after setting Boy down in the empty tub!
• Unfortunately, without getting too graphic, it was that clay-like sticky business that needed....aggressive wiping.

And into the bath! By this time, the tile above the tub had several brown hand prints. Would have been funnier had I not just returned from Pootopia.

I've said it before and I'll say it again:

Babies are gross.

Day 438 - The Twins of Change

Yesterday was one of the most change-filled days since birthday #0. Wifey came home and we tagged off, giving me some much needed Mespace. Several minutes in, the three of them barged into the mancave to demonstrate the change of which I speak. But first, a brief refresher for both of you who religiously read my unreligiousy updated blog:

Boy has been walking since month 11.5. And he's become progressively uncontainable. Girlie has been standing for a couple of months and taking 1-5 steps between grownups after significant encouragement.

But that all changed when I was informed that Girlie decided to start officially walking. Wifey says, "What happened to my kids today?"
"What do you mean?" Says I.
Girlie, she explained, is now walking like a pro. And Boy suddenly knows [most of] the motions to Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes!
"I didn't do it." I admitted.

They are becoming so engaged in one another! It's often quite sweet. Yes, there are early hints of squabbling--and no I'm not surprised. Girlie wants to bite Boy and he wants to push her and/or pull her hair. Ah, yes. This is where the fun starts, right? The sweetness I mentioned occurs, for example, when Girlie pushes a little walking toy around the house chasing Boy. This is usually accompanied by hysterical, screaming laughter from her and silly giggles from him. I waited so long to see these types of interactions--ones that I thought would occur sooner than they did. For many months they seemed little more than vaguely aware of each-other. Twins of Change indeed.

This evening, whilst shopping for a toilet, I had chosen to bring Girlie along leaving Boy home with Wifey. The toilet part is non important, by the way. So I was driving home from an unsuccessful mission and really began pondering and reflecting upon the differences between singles and multiples. (I hate the term singleton by the way. It sounds clinical--and lonely.) While I have no real frame of reference regarding only children, I thought about how our parenting time is divided amongst the twins. We have such hopes that the kids will get along as they grow. I have no illusions that it will be all grits & giggles. But I SO want them to be each other's advocates and supporters! So what did it mean to be to be out and about with just one? Well, we didn't really interact much. She wasn't babbling at all--just content. Content means a lot. That's for sure. But it was also just nice to be in her presence without distraction. Don't get me wrong, I would feel and have felt the same way with him. I'm just talking about a special moment that doesn't often present itself. Very sweet. I love them.

Are we losing anything from not having a single just as we gain so much from having two? I suppose it's irrelevant, but I wonder if they're missing out on something special. Everyone's experiences growing up are strikingly different, aren't they? Why am I humming I Got You, Babe?

Day 386 - Nothing Ever Changes!

If you believe that title, I have some land for you.

Ok, so it's been several months since my last visit. What can I say? Life happens. And happens BIG. I guess I'll just list a few of the notable changes since last post...

• Boy is not only walking, but has perfected it and now rarely chooses to crawl. 
• Girlie has taken a couple of steps here and there, but as with crawling, is taking her sweet time.
• Boy has all but mastered "Dad" placing a huge emphasis in the second D. Dad-duh. Somehow fitting.
• Boy has also taken on "dog". It currently comes out as a nearly unstoppable string of "Duh, a-DUH, a-DUH, a DUH, a-DUH...." etc. and repeat. 
• Girlie has the occasional "mama" and "dada" but by far her most adorable is, "tsah?" Meaning, "What's that?" Everything new, and many things not, are met with her request for a label. It's heartwarming.
• Solid foods are no longer a big deal for them. Two days ago, in fact, Girlie learned to dip a spoon into yogurt and feed herself. Thank you, Grandma C!

The list could go on and on but who wants to read lists? It's my dry and brilliant twin-life observations that keep my droves of readers returning. Is 17 considered a drove?

Let's talk about teamwork. I'm beginning to see some in them. And it frightens me! They're already forming the early semblances of Twinese. Soon they'll be conspiring against us, no doubt. Before long they will be hitting Wifey and me from all angles. My weapon will be anecdotal online research. It may not be much, but I know there's a good amount of data on the subject. Accurate and effective data? Who knows?

Personalities are emerging. Well, they're refining. And I've read a bit about the so-called hard wiring of the genders. Let me categorically confirm its validity! We have exposed them both to the same toys--never once pushing a traditionally boy or girl toy on either of them. That's not that because we're fighting gender-themed toys or identities, we just don't have many of that type. And yet...Boy gravitates towards cars and things that vroom and roll. Girle, without question, prefers plush, cushy animals, pillows and such. The great experiment continues.

1st births-day came and went. We had 9 babies and their parents at the house. THAT was chaos. But it went without incident. Babies had their first cake and it mostly stayed out of their hair!

Another milestone was the passing of the one-year-mark for Twin Pop's @Home Adventures! I've survived. Happy and surprising!

Backtracking a bit, we've already had two E.R. visits--both of them for Boy. One morning we found blood in his ear. He had cried out in the middle of the night but it didn't last long enough for us to drag our old carcasses to the nursery. Anyhow, we brought him in, fearing a ruptured ear drum. Turned out he'd scratched his ear with his fingernail. Ouch!

E.R. trip #2 was more significant. He had fallen onto the corner of a wooden shelf and opened up a little gash over his eyebrow. I suspect that many of us have old scars right around there! So he had two stitches--somewhat traumatic--but he did very well and was laughing within 5 minutes of the procedure. Stay calm, Daddy! That's my lesson here. Oh, and not getting offended by the third degree from hospital staff. I'm glad they do it--it's just sad that they have to.

And that's it! Nothing to see here. Please disperse.

Day 235 - Chaos & Cheerios®

It's not that nothing noteworthy has happened in the weeks since my last post. Quite the contrary. I feel fortunate to have had the time, on occasion, to bathe or to tie my shoes.

These babies will not be denied!

Let's just say that in looking back at my posts this year, I find myself longing for some of the most difficult times I've described! Just when I think it can't get any harder, or that I won't be able to manage...well, it does and I am. And, for added perspective, the first few weeks at home with them were far harder than I had ever dreamed.

So what's changed? I'll start with what is probably the least physically-significant change, but is without question the most joyous for us:

Spitting up is UNDER CONTROL!!!!!!!!!!!! Was that overstated? Hardly. I wish I could make it blink, shimmy, and dance.

In the past three weeks or so, Girlie has all but stopped. Boy still does perhaps 2-3 times per day. [addendum--today was kind of a messy setback. But I digest.] Believe me, that's a 400-500% improvement! (In both frequency and quantity.) It is a categorical breath of fresh air. The number of burp cloths we went through on a daily basis? Good estimate...20. Now, it's closer to 4 or 5. The Maytag Man appreciates this fact nearly as much as we do.

Next up, crawling. Boy is all over the place. Now, to be clear, it's not so much as a crawl as it is the worm. He actually flops. But it's speed flopping. Hatches are battened down. Cabinets are locked and gates are sprouting up all over the house. What's amazing to me is what he finds on the floor. I guess it serves to show us how little--or how much more we need to vacuum. He finds a little speck of whatzit--half the size of a grain of cornstarch, and into the mouth it goes. Perhaps another drawback to having babies fairly late in life--the eyesight deficit! The babes and we are clearly on different playing fields. Girlie's top speed remains at 0.0mph. (Occasionally it's -0.5. Yes, she has a intermittently-functional reverse gear.)

One of the mental images I've carried throughout the past year is the expectation of finding one of the kids standing in his or her crib as we enter the nursery to greet them in the morning. Boy was first, not surprisingly. This happened two days ago--and it truly was adorable. As with many adorable, sweet, heartwarming positives, there is also a darker side. The heinousness here is the fact that his crib-standing now obstructs his falling asleep. Where we once could lay him down in the crib and expect him to drift off (often preceded by significant hollering, but at least faithful hollering!) We can now expect him to stand at the crib rail and scream for what seems like hours. We're trying storybooks, singing, rocking, sound machines, iPod Baby Einstein, and monkey dancing. What. A. Drain!

Both have begun forming word-like sounds. Boy started with DA-DA's last week and Girlie with BA-BA's this week! That's fun. We're not yet ascribing any purposeful meaning to the sounds--much as I'd like to claim to be a target for the former. Still, I'm getting excited to converse with my kids. A whole new world is coming. Soon, I'll be able to reason with them and get them to stop complaining, crying, or otherwise behaving unpleasantly! Phew, that will be a relief. And then I will begin their lessons in quantum theory as relates to porcine aeronautics.

Solid foods have become a bi-daily adventure. Wifey lovingly prepares a variety of homemade baby fare consisting of sweet potatoes (a favorite throughout the household), apples, peas, squash, zucchini, and many more! But the titular saving grace has to be Cheerios. My toolbox for baby placation contains a few items such as toys, videos, singing, and books. But Cheerios (and now Puffs--thank you, Kyle!) are my weapons of choice. Despite the fact that the combination of Cheerios and baby saliva, when dried, yield an insoluble cement, they pacify like nothing I've encountered to date.

I've got more, but this has become too long for anyone to read. And I care about you. And your time. More soon!

Day 169 - Milestones? Who Has Time for Milestones?

I know it's been forever...and I've missed you.

As I sit here awaiting news of yet another great-niece or nephew, I'm musing on the fact that my babies will be a mere seven months older than their second cousins--but separated by a generation.

Now back to me.

The babies have really changed since my last post. Both are sitting up--though they can't yet get to that position. We've also begun feeding solid food. Their first was pears--an eventual big hit. Then it was sweet potatoes. I think those have continued to be a favorite. Peas, on the other hand, foot, forehead, etc., have been unceremoniously rejected. You should have seen the look on Boy's face when he fully experienced what was in his mouth. He jerked his head back and made a face that looked like he'd swallowed a rotten lemon. Soaked in vinegar. Haha--it was hysterical. So was the second spoonful. And the third. Did we enjoy it too much? Ok, no more peas. They also like squash, zucchini, and apples. And squash/pears cocktail is a big hit. Squares!

Last weekend we went to Lake Michigan for a mini vacation. The babes got their first boat ride and ski-tube experience. Granted, for the tubing, they were in our laps, wearing infant life-vests, and going maybe four miles an hour. Not exactly E-ticket. To illustrate it further, Girlie fell asleep halfway through. Then she peed on me. Hadn't felt compelled to put her in a swim diaper. It's a lake. Live and learn.

Crawling is mere days away for Boy. He's up on hands and knees and is rocking. So far, his only motion is in reverse. But the hatches are battened for the coming baby boogie.

Time Out...

Day 121 - What a Lives

Wouldn't it be nice to be a baby? I mean, sure you wouldn't be able to talk, read, or play Bejeweled Blitz, but man what a life! Imagine having everything brought to you. Imagine not having bills, work/home/life stresses. I suppose it's all relative; their stresses, like having their bottle a few minutes "late" or having a squishy diaper are probably as hard for them to manage as our day-to-day trials. But it sure looks good from this side of the crib!

Girlie was drinking her bottle today and started screaming for some mysterious reason (gas bubbles?) Anyhow, I sat her up and in no less than five seconds her eyes drooped and her head fell forward. Asleep. She startled herself back awake, but was then just fine and continued eating.

The vomiting, though. That would do me in. It's not something that I ever do--period. Sorry, the spitup tangent again.

Anyhow, it's nice to see their little grownup-stress-free lives. Refreshing to live vicariously through their blissful ignorance.

Day 115 - Ready to Roll

Amongst other milestones and developmental achievements, I've really been looking forward to some obvious, deliberate interaction between the babes. So far they've just had what looks like merely a passing awareness of one another. Perhaps there's more going on inside, but they've either hidden it from me or they're simply speaking a subtle dialect of twinese.

Yesterday I saw a very sweet and purposeful exchange. Girlie was playing with her feet. (Another milestone that I failed to announce a couple of weeks back.) She brought her left foot to her mouth and Boy, laying next to her, reached out his right hand and grabbed her foot, pulling it right out of her mouth. She looked over at him, they locked eyes, and both smiled. (Then they probably spit up all over each other, I don't really remember.)

Boy is probably just days away from sitting up. He likes to be in that position and can maintain his balance pretty well with a hand on his back or with Mom or Dad holding one of his hands. He's also begun to roll. If I remember correctly, one of my nieces never really crawled, she just rolled around the house. I think it's time for the next stage in baby-proofing. Time to put away the barbed wire and the cellophane curtains. Girlie is taking her sweet time, which is totally fine. She'll come along when she's ready. In the meantime, maybe I'll have only one rolling/crawling/toddling child at a time....at least for a few days! Six months from now, all bets are off. Frankly, it's still unfathomable the thought of having two children running around this house. Daily.

Day [-144] - The Day My Earth Stood Still

I've been asked to recount my first day of fatherhood. And although it doesn't exactly fit with the concept--or at least the trend--of this blog, I thought, if nothing else, it might be a nice record to keep here. I actually wrote about the day, November 30th, 2010, as it happened. Somehow, somewhere that text may exist. But the whirlwind of the day's events has sent it to live with the socks. So, here's my attempt to recount what was a nearly impossibly blurry day:

On the morning of November 30th, 2010, Wifey's doctor called personally to say that we needed to head to the hospital and that we may well be delivering that day. Results from a blood test the day before revealed that she had a rare, potentially life-threatening complication that could require immediate delivery.

The car had been packed with car seats and such for a couple of weeks--so off we went. After a brief consult at the hospital (with what seemed like half of the doctors in the building) we were told that today was in fact the day. Now comes the blurry part. She was prepped for an emergency c-section (under general anesthesia) and I was shuffled off into the recovery room to wait. I had my computer and a little rolling table on which to type. I was dressed in scrubs, booties, and a mask. And I was out of my mind. I had never thought of facebook as a therapeutic device, but writing updates and messaging friends & family felt....sane.

20 minutes or so into my exile, a nurse came in to the room and delivered the most understated question I've ever been asked, "Hi, Dad. Do you want to meet your babies?"

I was lead into one of the warmest rooms ever--the incubator room, I suppose. On the way, a doc told me that Wifey had done just fine and was recovering. She lay unconscious in the adjacent room--all I could see was her bent knee sticking out through the blue linens. Then, there they were. So incredibly small, fragile looking, and pink. My children. They were 5½ weeks early--and ultra skinny. (A little frightening.)

I had my hands clasped behind my back and was leaning over to look at them as they lay face-up on their warming tables. Were they alright? Was I allowed to touch them?

"They're doing just fine," The nurse said. "[Boy] is grunting and needed some oxygen at first, but he's just fine. You can touch them."  I was hyperventilating a bit. (As evidenced in the video below.)

They were so warm. So absolutely helpless. So utterly terrifying.

I remember thinking that when I first saw my children, I would be overcome with an enormous sense of love--a nurturing, natural fatherhood instinct. That wasn't quite it for me. I could hardly believe they were mine. There was no immediate spark or connection. I was just overwhelmed. Just another example of how things aren't always as you'd expect. I wonder what other fathers feel in similar situations.

Mom was wheeled in a half-an-hour later, or so. She was groggy and painful--which only added to the surrealism of my day. She was conscious enough, though, to worry about the delivery and how successful it had been. My reassurance seemed to have little effect. But they had all done wonderfully. The babes were taken to the NICU on a different floor; Wifey wouldn't see them for another couple of hours. (Before she was initially taken to surgery, she had made me promise not to name them. So much for Ozzie and Harriet.) She doesn't really recall meeting them for the first time--so I'm entrusted with that memory. I'll forever remember the tear in her eye.

It was only later that I learned that Wifey's condition was associated with a 20% mortality rate--for her. The number was twice that for the babes. The nurse that had ordered the blood test the day before did so essentially on a whim. Had it not been for her, this blog may have been much different--if present.

And here I am, Girlie sleeping on my chest as I write this. Has my life ever been different? Now that's the blurry part.

Day 83 - Baby Gifts - From Babies, that is

My longest stretch yet between posts has been, well, rough. The babes have been frustrating, beautiful, demanding, cute, and aggravating. (In no particular order.) I've not been inspired to write about these trials as nothing terribly noteworthy has happened with respect to developmental milestones. Docs say that they're on target and even ahead of the curve in many regards--growth, coordination, awareness, etc. But it sure has felt a bit stagnant when it comes to those gifts I've mentioned in blogs past. As a reminder, I've considered smiles to be the only real gifts the babes have, at this point, to give willingly. Cuteness doesn't count--and love is arguably not yet present. (Or if it is, it's not yet overtly distinguishable.) Those smiles have sustained me through many a challenge and frustration that at-home-fatherhood has brought. More recently there have been the first hints of some giggling and even some apparent face-recognition. More gifts.

They've both been especially fussy over the past couple of weeks--generally preceding feeding time. Sometimes it seems that, during my days, feeding is all I'm working towards. The crying begins in earnest a half-an-hour or so before [our desired, scheduled] feedings. That's fine, I mean I'm not so delusional that I expect feeding times to be adhered to rigidly --but that's been the trend. And they've seemed relatively comfortable with it. But the fussiness sometimes begins an hour or more prior. And that's....hard.

And then came today's 3:30pm feeding....
We returned from some errands at 3:35--the stress of a five minute discrepancy is manageable--oh, don't you worry about me! I got the bottles ready, set up my work area with burp cloths, bottle holders and the laptop-on-a-tray. (The latter being my "down time" sanity-maintenance-device.) To this mixture I add two whole babies and 16 fl oz. or formula. To my absolute surprise, Boy rejected the bottle, looked up into my eyes, and delivered the biggest, most directly connected smile I've ever seen from him. It completely warmed my occasionally complacent heart. Sometimes I get into the feeding routine and it becomes admittedly a bit methodical; he snapped me right back with those baby blues. Girlie was in good spirits as well, which in and of itself can be a blessing. It was a great, and greatly needed afternoon.

Day 69 - Small Victories

I haven't written in a while--we had a guest in town last week. She was a huge help and great fun. Then she went back home to Minnesota. :(


We've noticed that whenever guests leave, the following day tends to be pretty insane with regard to baby temperaments. Yesterday was no exception. Boy had a day of major...dissatisfaction. He was inconsolable for several hours straight--towards the end of which I was nearly out of my mind. What can be so upsetting to infants, I wonder? You go through the list, checking off all the usual suspects until it is (and you are) exhausted. And then it stops. And it's fine. SO frustrating.


Today I decided to pack up for an outing before their 11:30 feeding. Pretty ambitious, I thought. We went to our local hangout--a Westfield mall--to look for trouble. There was, in fact, no trouble--at least not until feeding time. Twin Pop grabbed a couple of tacos and a drink just in time to avert a double-duty hunger crisis. Then it was off to the Family Room--if I haven't mentioned this here before, it's a really cool space with a row of changing tables, comfy chairs, curtained-off nursing areas and a parent/child restroom. We like it there. I'm not used to feeding the babes without a fairly wide chair--both laying between the outside of my legs and a pillow/armrest. No luck here. The chairs, while comfy, are narrow--so I was short a couple of limbs.


After packing up and returning home, I changed their car-jostling-induced barf-soaked outfits. (See how cavalier I am about this now?) And I decided to make another attempt at an afternoon nap. (Them, not me. That's still all but impossible.) I was shooting for 1:30, but I got them down at 1:45. Pretty good. At this moment, it's 2:40 and they've been remarkably quiet! HooHaaaaay!


It's the little victories like this that give me the optimism to face the next challenge. Let me tell you, friend, it is stinkin' hard. SO much harder than I'd ever imagined. I can't in good conscience recommend this to anyone. Don't get me wrong, I love being a dad and I love my babes. I can't always say that I love my job. But.......

Raise you hand if you can. Exactly. Pipe down, Twin Pop.

Footnote:

We're getting some baby giggles around here!

Day 59 - Mayhem to Merriment

Yesterday was the single most difficult day yet. The babes were miserable from most of late morning through the afternoon. I felt totally helpless and incompetent. Yes, I know I'm not--it just felt so at the time. We're attempting to regulate naps during the day to improve bedtime. It's also to get them on a schedule--with the goal of giving Twin Pop some reasonably reliable time to accomplish...anything during the day. I should mention that we're on a four night stretch of through-the-night sleeping, which is simply wonderful! Bedtime, however, continues to be a little chaotic. Especially...no, pretty much only for Girlie. She's our bedtime banshee! We can pretty much count on 15-30 minutes of screaming each night. Could be worse, I guess. Has been worse! Anyhow, I'm just glad yesterday is behind me--it was a moment of total and complete weakness in which I felt like running screaming through the neighborhood. Perhaps I should have. I would likely have been given a little mandatory vacation--complete with free room and board! And I could have made some new friends!


This morning, following their first feeding, Wifey brought the babes in and laid them in bed next to me. This has been our norm for a while--it gives me a few moments to awaken and to remember that I'm no longer childless. And how. We've been attempting to keep them awake with some playtime until their morning nap. So far it's had little or no success. The playtime is fine, bus as soon as they're set in the crib, it all falls apart. But....and a very big but...
My little girl laughed this morning!
What a beautiful, rough, awkward little laugh it was. It's funny to imagine, if you'd never laughed in your life, how it would sound. Well, it is stinkin' cute. I was rattling a toy with all kinds of shakers, bells, and stuff and she apparently thought it was very funny. I tried a few times just to make sure. And I am; she did. :)


Today was glorious--which was greatly needed. 

Day 57 - ♣ A Lucky Break ♣

Happy St. Patrick's Day! 

It has indeed been a lucky day for Twin Pop! Wifey took the day off to make up for some extra hours last weekend. We all piled up and went to breakfast at a local pancake joint. The hostess seated us all in an empty side room. Privacy or expulsion? You decide. Great way to start the day though--and the babes were angelic!

We then visited a nearby community park for a ~2 mile lakeside stroll. Babes slept for half, and fussed for the other. Not a huge deal. I should add that this was the first day with a temperature much above the 30's. We got some low 60's! Truly a slice of heaven!

When we got home, Wifey fully took the reigns and I went out to the movies! My first solo recreational outing since becoming a dad. I had popcorn! And soda! Ah, careless disregard of calories. So great.

Following a brief, duty-bound trip to the supermarket, I returned home to get the corned beef dinner underway. My BabiesMama is a saint--I really needed that recharge. :)

We also tried Baby Einstein today--well, Baby Bach to be specific. At 3.5 months, I wouldn't have thought it so appealing to the babes. I mean, their attention spans seem little better than a moth's in a discotheque. I made that up myself. Anyhow, they sat there, transfixed for nearly the entire 30 minute segment. It's baby crack! I can already see how difficult it's gonna be not sitting them in front of that stuff every day. I shall resist.

A truly great day. And I'm not even Irish.  

Day 54 - Mad Skillz

Forget the smiling, rolling over, sitting up, Dah-dah babbling. My kids are strikingly skilled at precision puking. OK, OK, spitting up. I know--it's not yet supposed to be called vomit. Whatever you call it, it is consumed--and then unconsumed in short order. The point is, they are infantile masters at placing it where I desperately don't want it.

I have developed a generally successful feeding strategy in which I sit in a chair with baby bookends--their feet at my back. I put a burp cloth under each babe and fold a blanket into a tube--wrapping it around their chins to hold up their bottles. As I mentioned recently, it's a hands free performance. All well and good until burp time.

This is boring.

Day 52 - How Hard Can it Be.

Feeding the babes as I type this. Oh, I've got the hands-free thing down cold. That is until burp time. (Then I'm about three hands short.) It's a peaceful moment--both making little cooing/gurgling sounds as they drink from their little bottles. This is one of the sweet & happy parenting times. Frankly, it's a complete and total relief.

It's been particularly stressful lately. I had a moment yesterday in which I felt 100% incapable as a parent. It was a wail-fest, folks. Absolute inconsolability for two hours straight. Perhaps I'm spoiled, but this was the first time I've been faced with such...intensity from them. Passers-by might have thought the babes were being dismembered. I'm glad it was cold out--there were no passers-by. It's moments like those that I feel as if we've made a mistake bringing children into the world. Or, at the very least, wishing that I had majored in child-development.

I knew this would be hard. I never knew it could be Olympic, triganomic, tax code, soufflé, encyclopedia-sales hard. Despite the frequent social proclaimations to the contrary, Super Dad I am not. I am just Dad. Doing my best, failing more often than I'd like, and just trying to remain sane enough to give my children the best lives possible--with the tools at my disposal.

Day 49 - Evening 1

Little Girl had an ophthalmologist appointment today. We were concerned that she may have a lazy eye. Turns out that preemies have a higher propensity for that sort of thing--eyes slightly crossed, poor at tracking, etc. Doc says she's far-sighted, which she explained was actually a good and normal thing for infants. For one thing, I was surprised at how much can actually be diagnosed in a child who can't exactly sit in front of the lens monster picking out backwards E's. There's apparently a lot that can be learned, optically, from measuring the clarity of the light, the distance between nerves and corneas or some such. Anyhow, Doc said, in her opinion, that my girl probably won't need glasses as all. (I'm assuming it's not a free pass through middle age.) Girlie was so good; she had her pupils dilated and only cried a smidge.

Tonight, Wifey has a late meeting. So it's actually my first full day as Twin Pop. I was a little concerned, following naptime today, that the rest of the day would be a bit Chernobylesque. But, come bedtime, they actually settled down a bit. As I type this, they've been in bed for 40 minutes and the last 15 have been quiet. Keeping my fingers crossed. ajkqfoip cqajopq %q

I had a lovely, albeit short nap with my babes today in my recliner. We listened to the 1933 King Kong soundtrack. Hey, I hardly consider anything weird around here anymore. It was very sweet. The reminds me. I haven't discussed music here. I've compiled a fairly extensive library of musical pieces for the [hopeful] benefit of the kids. Classical, jazz, new age, light swing, some soundtracks, etc. (King Kong is not amongst the set.) Wifey and I both want this to be a musical household. The notion that someday the sibs could sit down and jam together is alluring. We want to play music for them as they sleep, but we also want to be careful that they don't rely on it. I really think it stimulates their development and I can't wait to witness their musical tastes!