Lilly and Nolan "cleaning"

This is what they do!

Nolan's First Haircut

The boy got his haircut for the first time. I wasn't expecting this to be something I really thought was neat, but I did. We took him to a barber that I used to go to when I was a teenager. Same barbers and everything. They didn't remember me. I've at least doubled the level of cool I had from the late 80s/early 90s, so I forgive them.

Anyway, Nolan was a shaggy hippie mess of hair. We were worried about how he'd do. Would he cry? Have a tantrum? Squirm around?

Turns out, none of the above. They put him up on the chair, gave him a sucker and paid attention to him. Turns out, all he needs to be good is to be the center of attention all the time. I'm sure this isn't a bad omen. Anyway, here's the pictures from the event:








It was pretty amazing how different he looked!

The babies aren't babies anymore, but they're not really people either

It's been about four months since I posted anything about the kids, so let me first put your minds at ease. No, they're not injured or otherwise incapacitated in any way that would make it distasteful for me to joke about their ongoing development. In fact, they're developing so fast and doing so many new things every day that it's difficult for me to remember to write about them. I'll think of something that they did two weeks ago and think to write about it, and then the kids will do something new that totally makes me forget about the "new" thing I was going to write about previously. There's been a lot of "fuck it" going on. As in, "fuck it, I forgot what was so cute on January 29th that I'm not going to write about it now."

Here's the status -- they're not freaking babies anymore. I don't exactly know when this happened, but it happened. They sleep every night through the night, they communicate in their own way, they certainly walk and run, and they find creative ways to get in trouble. It's a long LONG way from the screaming burritos that made me want to run the car in a closed garage.

The other side of that is that they're not people either. They're still learning things that we all take for granted. For example, one of the things that they learned during the last four months of not writing was how to ask to hold your hand when they need help with a walking obstacle. This is ridiculously cute. One of them, it doesn't matter -- they're equally cute on the whole, will stop at a step or a steep hill and hold up their hand. It's their way of saying "hold my hand, jackleg, or I'll bust my head". It's super cute and I think it means they'll go to Harvard.

The fun part is telling the story from before they learned to do this. That was fun. Fun in a "looking back on it" kind of way. Because at the time it was terrifying. It went like this -- walking, walking, walking (approaching step), walking, walking (getting closer to step), walking (at step), fall on head and scream for two hours and then let the neighbors wonder how you got that huge gash on your head. It happened like this more than once. Probably three times. Every one of them was my fault. It just was. Don't ask.

They also talk now. Lilly has more words than Nolan, but Nolan does just fine. They know the dogs' names, although they still call "Maggie" "Mawwie". They know the names for their ears, hands, eyes, mouth, nose, feet, and belly button. And they know how to ask for "more". Oh hell, do they know how to ask for "more". Why did we teach them how to ask for "more"? What the hell is wrong with us? "MORE MORE MORE MORE". It doesn't matter what it is. I do this thing with both kids where I swing them upside down. They love it, but I'm almost certain I'm brain damaging them. I get nervous after about the fourth uncontrolled violent swing upside down. But the kiddo (doesn't matter which) always arrives right side up with their little face a little red from the blood rush and their eyes a little off kilter from the swinging screaming "moorrree mooreee moorrrrreeee" with a little giggle going on. What's a father to do? Seriously, if this screws them up, I'm blaming it on the lead in the water.

Here's the kids with "Mawwie"

Speaking of belly buttons, they've learned to look for daddy's belly button when I ask "where's daddy's belly button". I'd tell you about the collection of lint, but I'd rather keep this blog PG-13. Or R. Whatever. In any event, it's cute if you can deal with linty beer bellied belly buttons.

Nighttime is the biggest change over the last 17 months. Seriously, go back and read the stuff I used to write about nighttime. It's scary. I honestly don't remember most of 2009 up until about July. But the kids now basically put themselves to bed. It's adorable. I'm not one for mushy, but the way the kids act when it's time for them to go to bed should be packaged and sold as sweetener.

If flying solo (which the wife does far more than me) -- it goes like this. You literally just ask the kids to go to bed. You have to say something stupid, like "beddy" or "sleepey" -- but they get the point. They walk down the hall to their bedroom and THEY get out their pillow to rest on while they have their night bottle. Then you give them their bottle and they drink it. When they're done with their bottle, they will crawl on you and hug on you. Then you ask them if they want to go to sleep. Again -- you have to say "sleepey" or they don't get it. They will walk to their own respective cribs and essentially ask you to put them in them. When you do, they lie down and sleep. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I did it.

So that's the last four months. You've got the update. I'll try to be more diligent in the future.