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.

We broke down

This lady, yeah, we hired her. Well, not her per se, but someone exactly like her. Seriously, even looks like her. With the shawl and the glasses on her nose and everything.


We hired a night nanny.

For those of you unfamiliar with a night nanny, this is a blessed soul who comes to your home at night and raises your children from the hours of about 10PM to 5 or 6AM. I was told about the night nanny before the kids came. I thought "ehh, that's for other people".

Ehhh, I was really wrong.

Night nannys are basically required for parents of newborn twins. I seriously don't know how we'd even be functioning right now if we didn't have someone to take care of them three times a week. I'm guessing we'd be hallucinating like we just chased shots of whiskey with Tommy Chong's bongwater.

The downside is that they're not cheap. However, when the twins were about 4 days old, the wife and I basically decided that we'd sell a kidney if we had to. There are things that didn't sound rational at all prior to this experience that sound perfectly normal now. All you parents of singleton children who are scoffing at us right now for passing the buck for the night hell, allow me just a moment to lose any semblance of self-control while I call you single parents pussies for only having one baby at a time. Sorry.

In other news

They're still ridiculously cute. Just look at that crap, have you ever seen anything that cute in your entire lives? Just say no, because you haven't.

It's really not fair to other babies.

The kids are gaining about half a pound a week. I think that's good. I'm not a doctor. I'd check with Doctor Harvey Karp's book, but I don't believe he's a doctor either.

The kids are doing all sorts of cute things. Nolan is unusually strong. I think he might be stronger than my wife. You know the expression "taking candy from a baby"? That doesn't work with Nolan. He'd be like, "motherf&cker, get your own candy", and then he'd punch you. Not that I condone that kind of language or violence from my son.

Here's an example of Nolan's ferociousness. Observe -- the famous IRON CLAW!

"I am crushing your head with the IRON CLAW! I has
future in teh
wrestle"

See what I mean? Ferocious.

Lilly is also doing all sorts of cute things. She's starting to chub up a little bit, which is nice because she was kinda skinny at birth. Her feet are still enormous. She's got giant damn feet, which I think means she's going to be tall like her momma. She's not perfect though, she's developed a nasty case of the fussy/colicy death scream, which makes me want to kick myself in the head.

Last picture -- Nolan in the bathtub.

Kills a baby's crying

It's crazy, but it's true. The neighbors probably want to know why we are always running our vacuum.

Strange things, man.

Sometimes the picture tells the story

<-- This was my son yesterday.

I never actually witnesses "projectile vomiting" before. My wife was feeding little Nolan, when all of a sudden, he opened up and launched a veritable rainbow of milk-based barf all over my wife's arm and hand. And sleeve. And couch. It was at this moment that I thanked our couch-salesperson for having the wherewithall to sell us that stainmaster package for $15.

Fifteen bucks for no baby barf stain? SOLD!

Anyway, spawn of Satan hasn't barfed a stream of nasty again. The Preist will be here Tuesday. Hail Mary.

I've been terribly neglectful

All right all right, I get the point -- I failed to update the blog for 4 days and left the adoring public wondering what happened. Did we get abducted? Did my bacteria-growing overtake the family like a blanket of death? Or am I just lazy.

The answer is that last one. Lazy. I'm a little lazy. Some people might call it very lazy, but those people are jerks.

Since our "Doctor" Harvey Karp meltdown, the children have been doing pretty well. They're sleeping OK, and they're on a somewhat reliable schedule. We went to the pediatrician and got their first vaccine. Hepatitis B. More on that later.

First -- More about me

I was sick. I don't believe I am sick any longer. I went to my doctor on Monday. She's a real doctor, unlike "doctor" Harvey Karp who lied to us in his book of lies. I've been on antibiotics, and I feel great. I went back to work on Tuesday, and that's been surprisingly OK so far. Although I believe my wife gets lonely here at home. Fortunately she's had help. My mother, parents-in-law, father, Wife's sister and my sister have all chipped in this week. It's been cool.

Now -- about those kids

I suppose I should write about the children. After all, this is a blog about them. Let's start from the intake to outgoing.

INTAKE -- Food

They've been eating really well. About 3 ounces eight or ten times a day. They're gaining weight They're two weeks old (already!) and they've gained a little more than their birth weight. They're doing great. I'm really proud of them and their growin.

Outgoing -- Worried....but then impressive!

My baby girl didn't poop for like two days. That was weird. But then she uncorked whatever she had stuck up there cause she's been pooping like she's angry at us. The boy farts like the old man, which makes me cry a little (that's my boy!)

Bottom line is that the kiddos are doing fine. That's made us very happy. In perspective, things are good with our family. We have two healthy kids who are intaking and outgoing like healthy kids.

Sleeping

Sleeping is still a hit or miss proposition. We had two GREAT nights. I mean great nights! They slept for consecutive periods of about 4 hours, which is just fantastic. But yesterday, they had their Hepatitis B vaccine. This made them fussy. Uncontrollably fussy. End of the earth ear shattering fussy for no reason out of control kill-me-now Defcon 1 I'm going to blow up the Death Star fussy! Little did we know BEFOREHAND that vaccines makes babies fussy.

The wife and I had a moment where we said (literally) that maybe it'd just be better if they got hepatitis. Seriously. How much worse could it have been than this?

But they're better now. They've been sleeping most of the day. Lilly just crapped her pants something awful, so I gotta go.

Sorry, no pictures. I can't be hilarious all the time!

I'm apparently growing bacteria like a human petri dish

I went to the doctor. I have some kind of bacterial infection. Might be strep. Maybe not. Who knows?





Doc said, "don't breathe on the kids". Too bad I spent the entire previous day shusshing them in their ear like Dr. Karp said I should in his book. Stupid Dr. Karp.

(This shit makes a lot more sense if you know who Harvey Karp is. Use teh Google)

So now we're in monitoring mode, analyzing every sneeze, poop and barf to determine if the kids are also culturing more bacteria than Britney Spears's hoo-ha after a night in Las Vegas. So far, they seem healthy. Temperature is normal, attitude is the same fussyness as always. The screaming is the same wail as before. The poop is definately okey-dokey. By the way, does it amaze anyone else that babies will just kinda hang out with shit all over their undercarriage? I'd scream like crazy if I had dookie all over me; but that's just me. (Look, I used a semicolon! Maybe incorrectly).

Me, I'm on antibiotics now. Feeling much better. I would like to thank my real doctor, who is an actual real doctor and not Doctor Harvey Karp.

The childrens were fussy last night again. They're strange that way, they'll have a good night, then a bad night. Last night was a bad night. But I slept really well from 11 to 3 and from 3:30 to 6 or so, so I took the kids from 6 to whatever time it is now so momma could get some sleep. I have to go back to work today though, and that kinda sucks. I really don't know how people do this. I'm sure I'll look back on this all someday and laugh. Or maybe just shake with anxiety and fear.

We're thinking about selling one of my kidneys to get a night nurse. This is one of those things that sounded crazy just a couple weeks ago that now sounds like the most rational, common sense idea in the entire world.