Well that worked out sorta well!

We tried a couple new things with the children last night. We separated them, so Nolan slept in one room and Lilly in the other. We did this to see if Nolan would sleep better if we let him cry for a little longer instead of rushing in to "save" him every time he peeped. We were always so worried that he'd wake up his sister (who sleeps like a champ) that we'd never let him try to self-soothe himself.

We're not Ferbernazis or anything, but we felt like he wasn't getting the chance to learn to take care of himself. So he slept in the other room by himself last night.

It worked like a charm! Nolan slept for 10 hours (really). He only got fussy once or twice and both times it was something he corrected within 5 minutes. So it falls in that "good night" category.

Feeling adventurous, the wife and I decided to take the children out for their first dining out experience this morning. We went to Cafe Brazil in Deep Ellum. It went OK. The kids were really good -- strangely good -- for most of the time we were there. Lilly started going downhill about the time I finished eating. It makes sense, she didn't have her morning nap.

Fortunately, I inhale my food, so I finished eating and took her to the car while mom finished eating with Nolan. She got out of there about the time he started melting down. It wasn't the most relaxing Sunday morning breakfast, but all in all, it was a success.

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The boy is paying us back right now by refusing to take his morning nap. And wheewwww, what's that smell???? Good lord, I think he's been eating beans!

Now -- pictures!

"Sleeping through the night"

My wife tells me that some egghead doctor classifies "sleeping through the night" as 6 consecutive hours of sleep. That's the biggest load of garbage ever.

Hey doc -- when you sleep from 10PM to 4AM, that's not "through the night". That's not even to the middle of the night! That's "I woke up at 4AM."

There are even stupider moron doctors out there who call "sleeping through the night" at 5 hours. These mouth breathers don't know people like me. How could 5 hours of sleep be sleeping through the night? Does that mean that I used to sleep through the night TWICE in one night? (God I miss those days).

From bottle warmers to doctor jargon, there's a whole lot about babies that make no sense.

We changed our settings -- so anyone can comment

I didn't realize this was set up so only "blog followers" could comment. Its been changed. So feel free to comment away!

Wow!

Categorize this under amazing and shocking... daddy and I woke up this morning On. Our. Own. No crying. No screaming. (from us or the babes). Granted, we were up for feedings at 11:30 and 3am. But even so we are usually awakened again by someone's hysteria by 5 or 6. Not today! And here's the even crazier part: I went into the nursery and they were BOTH AWAKE! Just lying there contentedly cooing and playing! What? Whose babies are these? I had heard of this happening, but MY babies were doing this???
Crossing fingers for a repeat, yet if the last 3 months have taught me anything, it's that repeats don't come in a row. Especially the ones you are hoping for.

Oh....hello. Yes, we're still here!

If you read just a couple posts down, you'll find me apologizing for not blogging more often about the babies' progress. Apparently, I've failed to keep this blog properly updated again. It's Valentines Day 2009, which means it's been about a month since my last post.

Sorry. I'll make up for it by breaking this one down into a series of separate stories.

First Story: My excuses

I'm lazy. How's that for easy? Coupled with my laziness though is something a little more legitimate. When the kids first got home, everything was new. The car seats, the screaming, the pooping, the screaming, the cribs, the barfing, and the screaming. It was all new. So I had a lot to write about.

Now the kids are three months old (time flies). They're in a bit of a routine, they go to sleep at 6:00 or so, Nolan wakes up around 11 and again at 3 or 4 to eat. He eats and usually goes right back to sleep. Lilly will usually sleep until 5 or 6 am when she'll wake up for the morning. So I've got one kid who sleeps for about 5 hours at a stretch and another who will go for 10 to 12 hours. Not too shabby.

Also, not much to write about.

Now I could run this blog like many other parents and go on and on about how awesome they are or how much I love them or how cute it is when they smile at me, but y'all know that. You know that part already. It IS awesome, but that's not the news that keeps you coming back. I typically think of things to write about during moments of pure hell. Those parent-learning experiences that are too weird for words. I simply haven't had many of those lately, and it's because my kids are better than anybody else's kids ever in the history of time.

Except for now. Now is the exception. Which brings me to my second story.

Story 2 - That asshole who said that sick children wouldn't be that bad is a motherfucking liar

The title of this story is made up. Nobody has ever told me that a sick child was anything less than the parents take-home version of waterboarding. I think I've got two sick kids, or at least congested kids.

Now spare me the bullshit about "congestion doesn't mean sick". When the boy is stuffy and can't breathe normally it scares him. He's only three months old, and as far as three month olds go, he's mostly badass. But this "oh crap, can't breathe" thing tends to wake him up. At 1. At 3. At 4:30. And at 6. Lilly complemented Nolan by also waking up at midnight and at 6 (for the morning). So that was our Friday night. Somewhere in the back parts of my brain is a memory of Fridays where we'd stay out all night and party, go to sleep around 2 and roll out of bed whenever on Saturday morning or afternoon. Stoopid maturity.

The babies aren't seriously sick, just kinda sick. Neither are running fevers or anything, they're just less than 100%. It might be passing. So all that is fun.

And by "fun" I mean, "not fun at all". The wife and I are at the end of the line. I've been in West Virginia of all places this last week, and she's too (ahem) strong willed to ask for overnight help when she needs it, so she's been troopering this baby whirlwind all week. I came home Thursday night exhausted and the both of us have been dealing with this ever since. We could use a nap right about now.

Story 3 -- Some baby products are absolutely fucking worthless

New parents -- when shopping for stuff you need for babies, take a pass on this piece of shit

This colossal waste of time and money is a "bottle warmer". It has the following problems:

1. It doesn't fucking work

2. By "not working," I mean it'll make your bottle nuclear hot and unusable or it'll require you to do the whole thing twice because it doesn't warm your bottles enough

3. It takes forever to do, especially while holding a screaming baby.

4. It costs money, which should be illegal. I thought our government protected us from products like this. I could literally poop in a bag and sell it for the same money and it'd be a better value to you.

Here's what you need to properly warm bottles.

1. Water

2. Coffee cup

Zero dollars. It can even be a coffee cup with a picture of my friend Ed on it looking really happy to be holding a Care Bear pillow

This is the picture that keeps on giving.

Seriously though, there are plenty of baby items you need. So far, I've only found one item that has absolutely zero use and actually makes life MORE difficult instead of less difficult. It's that stupid ass bottle warmer.

Skip it. Perhaps beat the inventor for me.

Story four -- Valentines Babies

The babies say "Happy Valentines Day"

My wife = hero

I'm going to take this quick opportunity to say that last night was one of those nights where you really feel sorry for your spouse. I had the first shift, which is usually the crappy shift. But this time, the kids slept the whole damn shift. From 8 to 3:30 AM. My shift ended at 3:00AM.

My shift ends at 3.....kids slept until 3:30. My poor wifelady got cornholed bad in this deal.

So this morning, I'm working on a decent 7 or 8 hours of sleep and my poor wife is bleary after her 5 hours and up-since-3AM glaze. I've felt bad for her all day.

Those kids are indiscriminate killers, and sometimes I think they do this stuff on purpose.

How is it that I'm being terrorized by a pair of two month olds?

I would like to sleep now. But the baby mafia jihadists have conspired to keep me on the edge of my baby-monitored sanity by ekking out little "bahhhs" and "whahhhs". Not really crying mind you. Just those whines and bays that you know might very well turn into full blown screaming contests. Or they might go back to sleep. Which puts me in limbo! It's not like I can sleep knowing that they'll get over whatever the holy hell it is that is bothering them so as to prevent their sleeping. And it's not like they're planning on blowing it up officially, requiring me to get out of bed and rock/shake them back to sleep!

It's like clockwork. Almost asleep....kinda sleeping...OK now sleeping. "bahh". Now I'm thinking "what was that? Oh...maybe it's no..." "whahhhh". "Shit. Maybe it'll stop." "Ekkk, ." "OK, but I'm not getting up until that kid erupts". But then the little shits won't erupt! But they won't shut up either!

Please. Just pull the fucking pin already kids!

Kill me. Either scream like some imaginary monster is eating your head, or sleep. But this in-between shit has got to stop! Cause I can't do anything about in-between! I can't pick you up, cause then sure as daylight, you'll melt down like Chernobyl on a hot afternoon. And I certainly can't sleep.

There are baby terrorists in my house. They want me to die. Won't somebody please help me?

Oh -- and while looking for that photo of the hand grenade, I ran across the following website. http://www.mybabyisfromhell.com/blog/ -- I believe I may be in love with a blog. Although, I'm finding that there are some very real similarities to what I've written and what this genius wrote. Exorcist photo to describe child? Check. Comparing a child's screams to a grenade? Check. Who knew there was someone else with my level (or greater) of really fucked up humor?

Notes for grandparents

Babies are "technically" healthy, although Lilly will still sneak-barf on you where she'll drool out barf on your arm while you're rocking her. The delayed aspect of it makes you think there's nothing strange going on until you try to move her and find yourself soaked in baby-lungbutter. We had our two month checkup this week. Nolan is about 11 and a half pounds. Lilly is right at 10 pounds. Some lying motherfuckers in a couple books we read said that the kids would sleep through the night at 10 pounds.

We got the kids their first shots of autism on Thursday. Vaccinated them against a couple different diseases. We'll see if this vaccines=autism thing is really all it's cracked up to be. It's an experiment! We've got one to spare! (Kids, if you ever read that, please know that daddy makes jokes that hurt peoples feelings. It's not nice. But he thinks it's funny. Maybe it's because daddy spent his formative years memorizing the lines to Star Wars instead of playing football. Daddy loves you both, and whoever is reading this, I was talking about the other one).

Anyway, we got to witness what happens when children get shots. It's not pretty. Actually, for Nolan it was actually really funny. That little pill was being cranky as all hell. Cry scream snort, cry scream snort. Then he got his shot and he immediately got quiet. Like "what the hell, guys? Fine, I'll shut up! Just don't stab me again". Reverse this sequence for Lilly. She was being sweet as pie. Just lovely. Then she got a tiny little shot (just one), and you'd think we were doing civil war era amputation on her with a bottle of bourbon and a bite stick as her only painkiller. What a baby!

That pediatricians office must be a breeding ground for disease, because wife and I are both sick. That's nice. Being sick with twins. If those kids get sick, you might as well hit me with a bus. It'd be the only humane thing to do.

and now, PICTURES

Lilly contemplating the most effective way to blow out grandma's right ear.

Lilly gets pwn3d here, because grandma's right ear already
sucks!

Nolan already has it all figured out.

The two of them plotting on how to ruin mom and dad's night again!
That's just evil.

I has a stories to tells you!

Hai, I'm Lilly. I is ate weks old. Mah daddy dusent no i can type, mostlee bekaus i cant talk words.

I is just a babie. I has cheezeburger in the bottle, then playes, then sleeps. Soemtimes poop. OK, I poop. So does u -- dont juge.

Mah dad put mah diapr on one day, and it didnt fit right or sumeting. I pooped (like u do) and sumhow poop got on mah back and mah outfit that mommie piked just for me!

Dad changed me. Or "changed" me I shuld say. Note to stoopied dad, onesies can go off me if you pull DOWNE on them, u dunt has to pull them overs my hed.

In fack, ples don't pull them overs my hed again when i just got poop on my onesie.

So there I was; (<---semicolon -- advanced for an ate week old!) naked on the changing table with a big glombs of poop on my hed. ON MAH HED! Dad started yelling for momes, because moms can fixee anything. Moms came in and just started laffing at me! LAFFING! I has poops on mah heds! Big blobs of poops! ON MAH HEDS!

Moms put me in my swimming pool. Here is picktures

As you can sees, (if you're not stopid like my dads who didn't pull my onesie off rites), I'm a little confoosed. But galds to have that poops off my heds.

I was not totally happie about any of this.

Note to other momes and dadds. Dunt be stoopid about onesies. Babies poop, sometimes we poops a lot. Sometimes that poops comes out of the diapers, which is almost ceratains a products liabilities issues, but what do I know about thats? I'm only ate weks olds. Whens poops gets on the clothes, go DOWNS when pullings them off ur babbies, not UPS!

Stoopids

Christmas, New Years, and General Updates

It's been about two weeks since there's been a blog entry. I'll fill y'all in on the holidays and then post some other stories next that have come up over the last couple days.
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The babies first Christmas was nice. They didn't get anything. It's really not my fault, they didn't ask for anything. And besides, they were too young to see Santa this year. The holidays are tiring, moreso than I remember them being. We have several sets of family, and seeing all of them takes a lot of energy. It's totally worth it, it's just tiring.
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New Years was more like a "Wednesday" around here. My parents came over. We had a little champagne. Wife was in bed by 10:30 and I was coaxing a screaming daughter when I heard the firecrackers and determined it must be 2009. I had one of those weird reflective moments where I thought back to 2001. I think of things in terms of presidential cycles because I'm a little bit of a political dork. Anyway, I thought back to January of 2001 when I was lying on my couch in my apartment in Raleigh, North Carolina watching George W. Bush get sworn in on my (then new) TV. I remember thinking how much I hoped that he would surround himself with smart people and help repair the divide of the hyper partisan Clinton years and continue the positive growth of the country. Now it's eight years later. A new President is about to be sworn in, and I have the same hopes for him. Except for that "continuing the positive growth of the country" part -- that kinda got screwed up over the last few years. This time I'm far more hopeful than I was in 2001. My life has changed so much over the last eight years since I lived in that apartment in North Raleigh. I can only imagine how different things will be in January 2017 when the next new President is sworn in. The thought of the kids being eight years old blows me away. It also blows me away realizing that our TV is eight years old. Time for an upgrade!
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Forgive my brief political diatribe, this isn't the intent of this blog. So if you're one of those 20% or so of Americans who still thing George W. Bush is "A-OK", then I apologize. Everyone else, just nod in a reflective moment of understanding.
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Vitals

The kids are somewhat regular with their eating and sleeping habits. We're really starting to see the daytime schedule of eat-play-sleep. That's nice. Night is still hit or miss. When we hit, it's really beautiful. They can go for six hours, sometimes even longer, sleeping at night. That's just awesome. Then, of course, there are nights like last night where Lilly decided to scream for no reason and Nolan didn't want to shut it down for the night. Still, we're pretty lucky. We know parents of single babies (as if that's normal -- gahhh) who had problems at night for many months.

Supernanny is still around, but not for much longer. She's sorta outlived her usefulness and my bank account, so in about a week she's going to open up her umbrella and fly away. It's still nice knowing there are certain days where we can eat, watch a 30 minute TV show, and sleep for 8 hours guaranteed.

The babies are much bigger than they were two months ago. Imagine that! Nolan is about 11 pounds, and Lilly is close to 10 pounds. We're going to weigh them again today at bath time. They're a couple of chunky monkeys.

Reflecting back on what I wrote at the beginning of this blog, I'm amazed and a little embarassed about how much we've learned and how far we've come in just the eight weeks since the kids were born. I feel like a fool for even having a small fleeting thought when the kids were five days old that I somehow had this sleeping thing licked. I didn't. I didn't know shit. The truth of this realization is that I still don't know shit, I just don't know that yet. Eight weeks from now, I will undoubtedly look back on what I wrote at the beginning of 2009 and laugh at myself again.

My Favorite Things

For those expecting dad's sarcastic wit, you'll have to wait... this is mom's first post. Only took me 6 weeks. I've been compiling a list of my favorite things. Some sweet little moments I don't want to forget in the crazy rush of caring for two babies... so, hum to yourself a little "raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens" -- These are a Few of MY Favorite Things:

Baby snoring.
Nolan is a daddy's boy! He already sounds like dad after a night at Harrisons. Seriously, the child is 6 weeks old and he can wake me up with his snoring. Lilly wants her own room. I think it's adorable.

Breathing in my ear.
Nothing is sweeter than one of the babies falling asleep on my shoulder and sighing in my ear. Screaming on my shoulder not nearly as cute.

Popeye crying.
Sometimes Nolan gets really worked up. You know, super-upset crying, totally losing it. This is sad. But also funny because he inevitably says "Wubbu wubbu wubbu" with his bottom lip quivering.

Bathtime baby fuzz.
After their baths, the babies' hair gets all fuzzy like a baby chick. You have to look on the back of Nolan's head for this because his hairline starts about two inches above his neckline. Sweet little male-pattern baldness. There will be no further comment about how he may or may not have inherited this trait.

Milk stoned.
Lilly really likes to eat. After she throws back a full bottle, she totally zones out and appears comatose. Not a brownies-with-Mr.-Hottie coma, but close. We feed her often.

Tiny hands.
They wrap them around everything and it is melt-your-heart adorable. Lilly especially likes to hold my fingers. Nolan usually grabs for boobs (see above about inherited traits). Even when they pull my hair, it's still cute.

Ok, that's it for now. Stay tuned for Mommy Confessions Chapter One: You Have to Clean Between Their Toes?

My friend Ed tells me things I don't want to hear

I have a very good friend named Ed. Ed is a dick. I know this because he tells me things that I don't want to hear, but are nonetheless true.

This afternoon, while I was waiting for a flight to Tampa, I spoke with Ed. Ed said, "you know your kids are going to see that blog someday....because nothing on the internet goes away." He proceeded to remind me that I'm going to have to explain to my kids why daddy used the word "fuck" a lot.

Fuck. This sucks.

Kids, when you're old enough to use daddy's computer and find "teh internets" -- please -- you have to understand -- daddy has an awful potty mouth because his parents didn't beat him hard enough or often enough. I've learned from my parents failures. I've spent the past however many years from 2008 to whenever you read this blog post learning how to best inflict pain on young children who say bad words. I've also been studying ancient parenting martial arts teaching me how to block out any feelings of sympathy.

So watch your f-ing mouths. And you're grounded for using daddy's computer.

My wife totally kicked our baby into submission

This story is about two weeks in the making. Lilly was being particularly fussy for a pair of days. To the point where we started thinking about taking the manufacturer up on the warranty. Out of frustration and despair, the wife attended a mothers of twins group with one of her twins-parent-mother friend and other mothers of twins. These better-twins-parents (or maybe just more experienced) relayed their twins parent nightmare stories to my wife and re-encouraged her to take on "Doctor" Harvey Karp's methodology (Seriously, google the man, you'll understand maybe). So she did.

Before I continue, when I say "better" twins-parents, I'm not casting aspersions at my lovely wife. I'm saying there are parents of twins out there who have survived what we've gone through, many without additional help like we've been fortunate enough to have, and my hat is off to those parents. Wow. I'm seriously in awe of this whole parenthood thing, because it basically sucks ballsweat a lot of the time.

OK -- so my wife took the advise of the twins group and her twins parent friend, and she "Karped" our little girl! To tell the story in pictures....

My daughter, seen here in scary skeleton costume, kicked the crap out of my wife, who was new in town from New Jersey. While my wife knew a little parenting, it was mostly from books. The child had training from a ruthless ruler/sensei.

Here is my daughter taunting my wife. Her snarky brother is hiding in the background laughing. My wife was scared for her personal health. She wanted to return to New Jersey.

Then, my wife met teachers -- seen here as "Doctor" Harvey Karp, but meant to encompass more than just that. The girl is now taunting the teacher, even though the girl was a student of the sensei before and is now the actual sensei. She's talented like that.

My wife is still scared. The teacher just challenged the girl to a fight. The girl hasn't ever lost a fight. I sure hope my wife doesn't get her leg swept!

The wife trains. A certain music soundtrack plays in the background....

Try to be best‘

Cause you’re only a man

And a man’s gotta learn to take it

Try to believe

Though the going gets rough

That you gotta hang tough to make it

History repeats itself Try and you’ll succeed

Never doubt that you’re the one

And you can have your dreams!

You’re the best! Around! Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down

You’re the Best! Around!

Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down

You’re the Best!Around!

Nothing’s gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ow-own

Fight ‘til the end

Cause your life will depend On the strength that you have inside you

Ah you gotta be proudstarin’ out in the cloud

When the odds in the game defy you

Try your best to win them all and one day time will tell

when you’re the one that’s standing there you’ll reach the final bell!

You’re the best!Around!

Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down

You’re the Best!Around!

Nothing’s gonna ever keep you down

You’re the Best!Around!

Nothing’s gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ho-how-ho-own

INSPIRING GUITAR SOLO

(fade out) -- Thank you Joe Esposito

Then, at the All Valley Karate Championship, after kicking the crap out of my wife for several weeks, including a vicious sweep of the leg leaving her hobbled, my wife kicked that baby right in the fuckin teeth! (Not really, Lilly doesn't have teeth, but the wife did swaddle the girl with a ferocity normally reserved for NFL linebackers). The Karp Method WON! The girl shut the hell up for more than 20 minutes at a time! Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

Then my wife made out with Elisabeth Shue. That was weird.

I emerge from this post 80s wet-dream sequence to tell you that I meant to write this two weeks ago. Over the last two weeks, we've learned that this dream of "Karping" the baby into submission is just a fairy tale. Kinda like in Karate Kid Part II when Daniel fails at the "Crane Kick". But we got her on new formula. The new formula kicked her ass. Which is a little anti-climactic. It's sort of like if the bad guys in the Karate Kid fell into a hole opened up by a California earthquake. Sure it's a good thing, but you weren't the one who beat them.

It's the start of a long night

I have a real problem going on here. I have one child who will sleep with almost no problem, and another child who screams like crazy like something is seriously wrong and who will not shut up at all unless the vaccum cleaner is running. It's unbelievable if you've never experienced this.

Our sweet Lilly gets so upset between the hours in which she is eating -- it's really sad. And difficult. She flippin goes apeshit. My wife whipped that girl into shape a week ago Friday (which is the subject of the upcoming post of awesomeness I keep promising), but in truth it's been a very difficult couple days.

So I've got the first shift tonight. I'm responsible for keeping the children alive until 2:30AM. I have to fly to Tampa tomorrow night for a hearing on Thursday, but fortunately the night nanny is coming Wednesday night.

The last time the night nanny was here, Lilly was so worn out from her weekend of not-sleeping that she slept like the proverbial baby. I seriously believe the night nanny believes we're either lying to her or we're the worst parents ever.

I still feel dirty about the night nanny. Not dirty like that, you sickos. Dirty in that "I can't believe we're paying someone to take care of our babies". I understand that there are parents of twins that have survived this without extraordinary help, and I salute those parents. It's truly amazing to me.

Cutest.Babies.Ever

I have to warn you. Before you look at the following pictures, you should be aware that they're about as cute as they possibly get.

Ready?

These are some pictures taken with the wife's cousin assistance.

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(Ohhh -- this is the biggest dry-hump ever, but the wife just informed me that I can't show you these pictures because they're going to be our Christmas cards and they're a surprise. I'll put up other adorable pictures later)

...

I haven't posted in a while, so allow me to update.

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Nolan is currently 9 pounds and maybe an ounce or two. So he's gained almost two pounds over his birth weight and he's only a little shy of the magical 10 pound mark. According to my baby-parent-friends, the 10 pound mark is around when they can almost sleep through the night.

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Lilly is currently 7 pounds 14 ounces. She's almost 8 pounds! This is hard to believe. Lilly has developed a nasty fussiness habit which I will blog about in more detail later.

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I've actually been meaning to blog about Lilly's newfound fussiness for about 4 days now. I need to start by issuing an apology to "Doctor" Harvey Karp. I'll discuss this in more detail, but it's possible that I've been a little harsh on "Doctor" Karp.

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Lilly, in a nutshell, has decided that wake time is yelling time. She has also decided that sleep is for the week and infirm, and she's neither so she won't sleep. Ever. We've tried to talk her out of this, but she hasn't quite mastered english. She's only a month old.

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So I've been trying to figure the best way to tell this tale. Needless to say it involves metaphor. I'm thinking movie...from the 80s. I don't do future-post previews a whole bunch, but I'm thinking of telling Lillly's tale of fussy through a movie vehicle in which she would be a bully, the wife would be an awkward teenage boy, and "Doctor" Harvey Karp is a sage old man. Nolan makes an appearance as well, but only as one of Lilly's bully friends. You'll see. It'll make sense.

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Or it'll fail miserably.

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I think about what I write sometimes. I think that someday my children will be lovely and they will sleep through the night and poop on their own in a toilet. If it ever comes that my children read this blog, I should be clear.

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1. You're both grounded. You're not allowed to read the internet. Especially not websites with the kind of language you'll find on websites like this one.

2. I love you both. While it seems like I'm really down on one or both of you from time to time, you have to understand that this is a very trying time for both your mother and I.

3. Currently Nolan is my favorite baby, but last week it was Lilly. This kind of competition will keep you both on edge and make you winners at life. Or it might drive you crazy. Who knows? I certainly don't. I've never done this before.

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A final thought.

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(I need to make a disclaimer here or something. I've been informed that our little blog about our family has made the rounds to people that I don't know. That's nice. I'm happy about that. But I'm about to make a sarcastic commentary that could easily be taken out of context, or with a bit of disgust. Or even an extreme amount of disgust. So if you find yourself reading what I wrote and feeling like something awful happened with my children and I or the wife -- just rest easy knowing that nothing did. Not in the slightest. In fact, even if you do know me, I think this disclaimer should also be taken to heart. Although I have to do less explaining to you. Yes, I'm looking right at you Mack).

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I'd like to talk a moment about baby shaking. Yes. I said it. I'd like to talk for a moment about the phenomenon where parents become so frustrated; so at wit's end that they resort to violently shaking their babies. This is not only a crime, but seriously brain damages and/or seriously kills your baby. It's a bad thing. Before I had babies, I never understood how anybody could become that frustrated with anything.

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It was at 5 AM last night/morning. I had been up since 3. One particular baby would not go back to sleep and insisted on crying like crazy for no apparent reason. This baby, we'll call her "Lilly" for the purposes of this story, just screamed and screamed and screamed and would not go to sleep. I held her, I rocked her, I gave her pacifiers, I gave her tummy drops. Nothing worked. By the way, I'm now officially out of the tummy drop fan club, but I digress.

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I stood there, in the early morning light, bleary eyed, and I found myself asking this child questions. Questions like, "what do you want?" and "I'll buy you a pony if you shut up" (technically not a question, but you get the point). I even asked her to shut up a couple times. Politely, of course.

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Then it dawned on me. (And this is where this line of thought gets really dark -- see disclaimer).

A little baby shakin ain't that bad. Not that violent fit-of-rage shaking that hurts your child, don't think for even one second that I meant that. No, in that pre-dawn moment, it occurred to me that all baby toys, swings, rockers, papasans, and bounceys operate on the principal that a little baby shakin ain't that bad. Like most things in life, it's the moderation that distinguishes the good from the bad. So with that in mind, I set my precious daughter in the baby-shaker we call the "swing" and laughed to myself for a moment as I "shook" my baby.

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Didn't work. She still cried like crazy. But that's another story for another time.