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.