Updates, Memories, and things I don't want to forget

This blog was always intended to be a humorous look at parenting. Something washed free of the bubbly varnish that parents understandably assign to their children's early years. Over the course of the last two and a half years, I've tried to write about things in a manner that reflected my personal view of events at the time they were happening. From early adventures with poop disasters to learning how to sleep through the night to having the audacity to call my little brilliant angel "tarded", I've tried to make light of the process of raising children.

This post is not written to humorously recount tales of parental tragedy. Nope, this post is written to remember the things they do now that I hope to never forget.

Let's start with Nolan

Nolan says certain words wrong. He calls "olives" "owibes". He says the words "There" and "Here" with an unusually strong Texas accent. "Thay-re" and "Hay-re". I find this so damn cute that I honestly hope he never learns how to say these words the right way. He used to call his sister "Lolly". Speaking of lolly, he used to eat the sticks on his lollypops. Nolan is a curious boy who loves his puzzles like his Russian nesting dolls. If he understands something, he wants to explain it to people. He gets loud when he gets frustrated, as he doesn't understand how to express himself in those situations. If he's anything like his daddy, he won't figure that out until his mid-20s. Maybe not even then.

Nolan's memory is striking, and a little frightening. He will randomly bring up details of an event that occurred a year ago. Literally. He remembers specific details of when he was just 18 months old, and talks about them at random times when something in his brain triggers that memory. I remember memorizing the Dallas Cowboys roster from a McDonald's poster when I was 4 years old. I memorized every name, number and position, including the coaches. I don't know why I did this, I just did. I think Nolan got that. It's strange to watch on the other end of it.

Nolan is beautiful. Sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of him smiling or laughing or something and I'm just dumbfounded at how cute that kid is. I don't mean this as some sort of annoying parent-bragging thing. The boy has a happiness about him that makes me wish I could tell him how special this part of his life is. I wish we could all have some retroactive appreciation of the innocence of youth.

And Lilly

Lilly is brilliant, despite her appearance in this photo. I think she's smarter than I am now. And she's not yet three. Lilly possesses a powerful sense of empathy. She's legitimately concerned about the feelings and well being of other people. My mother has been dealing with a family issue that's been very hard for her lately. One afternoon about a month ago, we took the kids to see grandma. Lilly, knowing almost nothing of the situation went up to her grandma and held her hands out palms up and asked "Grandma, are you having a bad day"? What two year old does that?

Lilly is a chatterbox. And she's bossy as hell. But she's bossy in a really sweet way. She'll tell Nolan to "be careful" or "don't do that", but she's doing it so Nolan doesn't do something he'll regret later. And Lilly is my little angel. If she bumps her knee or gets a boo-boo and starts pouting about it, it makes me crush a little on the inside. Honestly, if she seriously asked me for a pony tomorrow, I'd probably make that happen. Lilly has a smile and a humor about her that makes others around her want to be near her. It's magnetic. The thing she does that makes me laugh like crazy is when she comments on Nolan when Nolan is acting bad. She'll say, "Nolan is being....a butt." But she'll run the words "a butt" together so it sounds like one word... "abutt". She doesn't know what it means, she just knows it makes her daddy laugh under his breath, knowing that's not the sort of thing Lilly should be saying about her brother. Lilly is the most beautiful, smart little girl I've ever seen or known. I often have to pinch myself when I have one of those moments where I think that she's my daughter. I'm a lucky person.

Honestly, I could go on for hours about the things both Lilly and Nolan do that amaze me every day. After a while, it'd just sound like proud poppa stuff. Nobody wants to read that.

The early days of raising twins is awful. I really don't have much of a memory of the details of the first 18 months or so of the kids lives. I'd hate to develop that sort of amnesia about the last 14 months. Their role in my life is something I'd never thought I'd have. Every day I learn something about them as they learn something new about their world. It's a gift. And without any sarcasm or attempt at humor, it's been the greatest thing I've ever had a chance to experience.

We probably should have turned around when they were shitting water by the time we got to Waxahachie

Next week we're heading out to the coast for our second "vacation" with the kids. Regular readers of my bi-yearly-updated blog will remember how our vacation went last year with the kids. It got me thinking about all the stories I've been filing away to write "later" on this site. Since next week will undoubtedly produce something I'll want to share with the rest of the world, I need to purge.

The title of this story comes from an adventurous trip to Austin last October for my sister's wedding. One, or both, of the kids had a raging episode of diarrhea. Frankly I don't recall if they both had it, I seem to remember that Nolan's issues were clearing up while Lilly's was getting worse. What I do remember are the diaper changes by the Grandy's in Italy, Texas. Memorable because it's just south of Dallas and it was our second diaper-poopexplosion of the trip. We were being told things by the parental gods. We just didn't care to listen.

When we arrived in Austin, things went downhill in a hurry. The first evening we were there was the night of the rehearsal dinner. It was a lovely affair. My sister, the bride, hadn't seen the kids in a long time and was thrilled to get to spend time with them. Lilly, feeling a little bit drained from her.....well......draining, just wanted to be held. My sister was more than willing to accommodate. Lilly then thanked my sister by barfing on her. All.over.the.bride. There's one most of you didn't get to experience at your rehearsal dinner! The sis took it in stride, but Lilly, Nolan and momma had to cut short their party before the food even arrived. Me? I stayed, of course! Somebody had to represent the family.

Later that night, Lilly threw up some sort of vile milk product all over her bed and pajamas. If you haven't had the pleasure of experience curdled toddler-milkvomit, then you've missed something in life. I really can't explain it to you. This occurred while my dad was visiting with me at the house we rented. Keep in mind that this is one of those familial times in life that often involves the consumption of wine, beer, and other such goodly things. So I was in the middle of indulgence when we had to go fight through milkpuke. Not fun.

The next day started with a wild hangover. Not a good start to wedding day. I should take this time to mention to anyone who will listen that Dogfish Head Brewing's 90 Minute Imperial IPA is a crushing 9.0% ABV, something you should know before drinking three of them in an hour after a rehearsal dinner. But I had no other choice but to fight through it. I had to. After all, we had to meet my out-of-town family for a nice brunch at a local Austin restaurant. Meeting your family for a hangover brunch is often a welcome relief. However, meeting them with a milkvomit-stained daughter and a son who was shitting liquid poo not 24 hours earlier makes for a more interesting challenge. Lilly was clearly not feeling well. Her mood was what you'd expect of a child who had a rough night. But both her and her brother were sucking down apple juice at brunch. Apple juice...that's good, right? I mean, it's got "apple" right there in the title. And apples are good. Right? This will hydrate their poor bodies!

More on this later.

About halfway through lunch, Lilly had a poopie that needed attention. So momma took her outside to change her diaper in the back of our car. After about 20 minutes went by, even my hungover brain began to realize something might not be right. So I braved the bright sun and walked outside. Keep in mind that at this point, the sun to me is vampire-esque. I'm not a fan. So I get to the car conveniently at the time where the diaper is going back onto our daughter. But Lilly still seemed sad or something. It was about this point that I noticed some reddish booger in my daughter's nose. The only reason I noticed it at all was because of the way she was laying down with her head back. So I went digging. Started pulling... and pulling... and started feeling like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Total Recall.

Her nose literally started expanding to the point that I thought we were going to split it open. And out popped an enormous bloody booger. Or at least what I thought was a bloody booger. Upon further review, it wasn't a booger at all. It was a raisin. All swollen up like it would be if you left a raisin in a bowl of water overnight. Immediately we started thinking about the last time the girl had raisins. Sadly, we concluded it was on the drive down from Dallas almost 24 hours earlier. Parents.Of.The.Year. Anyway, after de-shitting and de-boogering the girl, she and her brother finished brunch without incident.

Then we got home.

Something happened at the house. Something awful. Something that even 9 months later still makes me clench a little bit. Lilly "let go" of something holding her insides on the inside. The noise and subsequent smell let us know something was going on. Momma took Lilly to the back room to take care of the problem. But then I heard my darling wife call for help. My wife doesn't call for help. Seriously. This woman blew out her MCL in a swimming pool holding one of our children during their first 4th of July in 2009 and didn't tell anybody for days. So hearing her yell for me to help her was not a sign that things are going swimmingly.

So I come into the bedroom. Hungover. Into a room still reeking of milkvomit. And I see a pool of some brownish-yellow something. The word "pool" gets overused in reference to children's BM's. This was a fucking pool. Like the one you have in your backyard. If Michael Phelps were there, he could have swum laps in it faster than anyone else in the world. A pool. So we put the diaper that was already stressed beyond its operational safety factor back onto the girl and carefully carry her to the bathroom to "drain". This is when the dry heaving started. Mine, not hers. Remember....9% ABV. This was, without question, the most disgusting moment of our parenting careers.

After a half a box of wipes and some deep breathing outside, a phone call to the pediatrician revealed that pedialyte is good for this. Apple juice, which the kids were drinking like 9% ABV Imperial IPA earlier in the day, turns out to be a powerful laxative. Who knew? So now the quest in life is to locate a pharmacy in Austin open on a Sunday afternoon. That was a whole other story.

Did I mention that my sister was getting married?

So the whole purpose of this trip was to be a part of my sister's blessed nuptials. The kids had a starring role in the whole affair, they were responsible for bringing the rings up to the bride and groom. Seeing how they were not yet two when this happened, this was a moment to remember and cherish. Our hopes were slight that this was going to happen at all. Not after all the barfing and pooping and raisins over the previous 48 hours.

However, we were surprised that not three hours after Lilly's watery event, the children made a mighty comeback. They did great at their aunt's wedding. They carried rings, and danced the night away with their mom and dad. Later that night, they had a vomit-free evening and we had a nice drive back to Dallas the next morning. The first road trip weekend started fairly awful, but ended up rebounding strong. Lessons were learned, and prices were paid. Shouldn't all weekends be like that?