A Boy or a Girl?

I do not yet know the gender of the little person growing in my belly. I will soon find out, but until then, I will keep fielding the question--Do you want a boy or a girl?

The gender of the babe does not matter to me. I just want a healthy baby! That being said, I do think about scenarios wherein I have another boy or our first girl.

Another boy.

• I will be severely outnumbered.
• My life will be full of farts, wiener and number 2 jokes, fist fights, filth, and the general chaos that comes with little boys. 
• I think little brother might have a rough life dealing with 2 older brothers who will most likely double team him in the distribution of noogies and wedgies (I assume kids still do that. I gave the boys a noogie each today. Maybe I shouldn't introduce them to such shenanigans already.)
• Despite their wild ways, little boys sure do love their Mamas. So, I will get plenty of hugs and kisses, and will always be the most loved, even if Dad and Uncle Dacian let them play countless hours of video games.
• Lastly (as far as this list is concerned), I will pretty much be set on clothes. Baby Boy #3 would come into this world with an impressive wardrobe waiting on him. 

A girl.

• Let's face it. Basically most everything from the list above will be the same with a girl. The only difference is, I will get to buy cute little shirts with kitty cats on them and pink converse. Any girl I have, especially with two big brothers, is bound to be a tom boy. I will have to hear the fart and wiener jokes regardless. Perhaps she will join me in eye rolling once the boys start up, or you know, maybe she'll join right in, you never can tell. 

Brittany and Julian. Too cool for school.

This reminds me of my cousins Curtis and Brittany. When Curtis was a little dude, his Mama was going to have a baby. Curt was pretty sure that baby was going to be a brother. Even when they told him she was going to be a sister, he didn't believe it. Even after Brittany was born and Mommaw was telling him, your sister has arrived, Curtis said, "It could be a brother." He was so distraught about having a sister. She certainly wouldn't play cars with him or fish with him, she probably wouldn't even be able to catch crawdads. So, to put his little mind at ease, Tashia (his older cousin) did something that to this day blows my mind. Tashia, the woman who calls me on the phone to tell me a wasp is in her house, Tashia, the woman who called her Grandpa to come and get rid of a lizard on her steps before she would exit the house, this very woman went into the creek with little Glenn Curtis and caught crawdads. She had to prove to him that girls could catch crawdads and that his little sister could do whatever a little brother could do. I think Britt has definitely shown ole Curt she can run with the boys.

The Zoo

On Friday, the boys took their very first trip to the zoo! We had such a wonderful time (save for the long commute there thanks to Cincinnati construction and the trying to fit my large van into a very small parking space)! The zoo babies were out in full force. The cutest, of course, was Gladys the 3-month old gorilla. The coolest part of seeing Gladys was watching her surrogate interact with her. Oh, why can't I be a monkey's mommy for a living? Gladys was born in a zoo in Texas, but her Gorilla Mother rejected her (poor baby), and so now she lives at the Cincinnati zoo where a team of humans don vests of fur and black clothing and teach her the ways of the gorilla, at least  until she is big enough to join the rest of the gorilla crew. Why wasn't I a zoologist?

While we were checking out Gladys and her surrogate mother, Brittany was watching another

extraordinary scene: an elderly lady on a rascal driving literally up a wall. Her rascal was on two wheels as she tried to bypass the Gladys crowd and make her way past the gorillas. I am telling you people, the woman was dead on Dr. Nefario from Despicable Me.

Also, while we're talking about the zoo, can I just ask--what the heck is up with people's zoo attire? Why, I thought a plain ole t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, maybe a Reds ballcap to block the sun would do. No sir. These people are plumb goofy. Belly shirts and hippie skirts (on hippies, so don't get excited fellas). Black lace dresses with pink tights and high heels. And, hand to god, a mint green prom dress. Bewildered.

Moving on...
Doug took his last ever law school final last night and on Saturday he graduates! Woohoo!! Law school is finally over! However, now it's time to study for the bar. So, come visit me anytime starting now through Aug 3, as the boys and I will be all alone, as our beloved Doogie will be non-existent to us (aka holed up in the garage using every "free" minute to study). This should be fun.

I loved this bear. I wanted to snuggle him. That would have
ended badly for me.

Random:
You know what I like? I like that Coke commercial with the hidden camera. You know, the one where they show feed from the security camera of people being nice, fun, loving, happy people. I like that. Watching people sneak a smooch, hug a buddy, dance. We all need more fun in our lives. Yeah, yeah, so big brother is watching us. Whatever. Don't ruin the moment.

A Story in Pictures (And a Few Captions)

Hi, Brother. Let's read together!

Take my book? I'll pull your hair!

I forgive you. Let's read together!

That's my book, punk!

RAAARRRR!

A Lot of Yelling in This One

At Target yesterday, a little girl asked Brit if she could, "Pet the baby." Kids are funny.

Sometimes when I rock the babies to sleep, I also go to sleep.

We have a camera in the nursery. It has night-vision, so we can even check in on them when they're supposed to be snoozing. Julian has 2 bed buddies: Simba and Possum. Sometimes, I forget about Possum. I check in on Jules to see how he's doing, and OH MY GOD! THERE IS A GIANT RAT IN HIS CUBE!!!! Oh wait, it's just ole poss.

Have you ever had to call UPS to check on a package? Thank your lucky stars if you have never had to do it. If you have, or if you have called any customer service number with a robot operator, then, my friend, you have experienced true aggravation at its zenith.

What's the situation? You want to know where the heck your package is and why it has yet to be delivered? Just call customer service and solve your problem!

"Thank you for calling UPS," says the robot, before she gives you a list of 900 options to choose from and SAY whichever satisfies your needs.

"Track a package," you say.

"I'm sorry. Did you say, 'Find a location?'"

Slowly now, "T-r-a-c-k a p-a-c-k-a-g-e."

"I'm sorry. Did you say, 'Get rates and transit times?'"

Starting to get annoyed now, "TRACK A PACKAGE!"

"I'm sorry. Did you say..."

Now you just lose it, "DON'T EVEN FREAKING SAY IT, LADY. I SAID, 'TRACK A [EXPLETIVE DELETED] [EXPLETIVE DELETED] PACKAGE [EXPLETIVE DELETED]!!!! I HATE YOUR [EXPLETIVE DELETED] GUTS. YOU STUPID [EXPLETIVE DELETED] [EXPLETIVE DELETED] ROBOT WOMAN!"

They should have boxers and UFC fighters call UPS before letting them loose in the ring. Let 'em get good and angry at Robot Woman, and then go take out all of that pent up frustration on their opponent. They'll win the match every time. "TRACK A PACKAGE! I'LL RIP YOUR HEAD OFF!"

Things Fall Apart

The Bear Named Joe.

On Sunday, I went to see a play (Sylvia) starring my homie, Tasha (as Sylvia, a dog)! She was fabulous in this show--there was singing, comedy, and lots of strong language. Now, as you know, I am not in the least bit offended by cuss words, hell, I have even been known to say a few in the heat of the moment. However, one thing that does make me uncomfortable is watching shows laden with adult content with old people (gives me flashbacks of when Beetle asked me what the "C---" word was; if it's up to me, Mommaw, you will never know!). Mommaws and Papaws ought not be saying bad words or laughing at dirty jokes. Well, children, let me tell you...my friends and I were the youngest people in the audience, everyone else (50+) were senior citizens, and they were CRACKING UP! I thought this old dude in front of me was going to keel over when Sylvia (aka TBo) called a cat an effer. And you should have heard the roar of the elderly crowd when Sylvia was in heat and met up with ole Bowser. Hysterical. Old people are so wild.

Anywho, while I was at the show, Doogie was at home with the boys. He even got to feed them (his favorite). Four hours later, I returned home and went to scoop up my babies to smother them with kisses. Jonas had something on his eyebrow. It was squash. "This kid has squash on his eyebrow. Why didn't you wipe his face off?" "I didn't notice it til we were at Target." He took my poor child out in public with squash eyebrows. "I forgot the blue bag." Also known as the diaper bag. What would've happened if one of them had had a Brown Saturday episode? "Things fall apart quickly when Dad is in charge." 

Oh, so, Jules can totally crawl now (yippee...I think). Joe still army crawls, but he is a fast army

Precious.

crawler. They get into everything they can. They fight, constantly. It is impossible to dress them. They've found a "new toy" at bath time. They hold hands when in their high chairs. They smile and laugh at each other, and also check with each other when something funny happens to see if the other laughs. They are starting to eat table foods, despite having no teeth (they even had some oyster crackers and shredded cheese at Skyline)!  And, they are basically the cutest, most awesome dudes ever to live.

They're gonna be 1 in less than 3 months. That blows my mind. I have been perusing the interwebs for cool party ideas (because, you know, they completely know what is going on and will definitely remember their 1st birthday party). At any rate, I got this bright idea that I could get dinosaur board books for party favors (of course the party will be dinosaur themed). So, off to google I go. A book pops up and I think I have hit the mother load! SHAKESPEARASAURUS! Are you serious?! A Shakespeare inspired dinosaur book?! This definitely has to be purchased for my children!!! I click on the thumbnail to take a better gander at the book I am mere seconds away from purchasing in mass quantities and my hopes are dashed. SHAPEASAURUS. A dumb book about shapes. Son of a!

Brothers fighting.

Brothers playing.

Where the heck have you been?

Gertrude the Gray.

I am Michael Bolton. Not the mullet sporting soft rock ballad singer. The little dorky dude with a love for gangster rap from Office Space. I realized this yesterday while I was cruising down the road in my hardcore Honda Odyssey listening to Easy E. I didn't turn the volume down at any time, but a friend suggested that maybe I should. Whatever. I know nothing in life but to be legit.

Minivan? Oh yeah. I'm rolling in Gertrude the Gray. An 8-passenger hoss! Don't hate.

Speaking of hate. I'm about to puke my brains out knowing that the Louisville Cardinals are playing in the national title game and my beloved Wildcats didn't even make the tournament. Just checked the score and the dirty birds are down by 12. That cheers me up a bit. "Let's keep the title in Kentucky," they say. Not me. I hate Louisville. I shall never cheer for them. Ever. Hate.

The other day I was at the chiropractor and there was a little dude in the office and he had the following conversation with his mother.

Little Dude: Mom, what's wiener?
Mother: What?
Little Dude: Is wiener a boy name or a girl name. I heard someone called wiener at school today.
Mother: Wiener really isn't a name, honey.

I look forward to having these conversations with my guys. Of course, they'll probably be the kids calling somebody a wiener.

We were shopping for car seats a couple weeks ago. I was pushing the stroller and singing to the boys. "Welcome to our learning farm..." The cashier followed up with, "We have lots to show you." Evidently that V-tech sit-to-stand learning walker is a big hit with lots of babies.

A Good Day

Today was a good day. The boys slept in until 8:45, just in time to catch Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood. I love anything affiliated with Fred Rogers, people, even if those dadgum songs get stuck in my head for days ("if you feel so mad that you want to roar, take a deep breath and count to four").

After the boys had their morning bottles and watched Daniel Tiger, it was time for their oatmeal. We listened to Christmas tunes and watched it snow.

Around 11, family arrived! Uncle Glenn and Aunt Anita brought Brittany back to Covington and hung out with us for a while. It was a fun time. I love when family comes to town.

Guess what!  We never got out of our pajamas all day!!

After dinner, the boys gnawed on some clementines and we listened to some jazz.

Bath time came, and then it was time for fresh pajamas.

Kissy kissy and off to bed. I love my little dudes.

Brothers

Two modern day Robin Hoods.

I think that if the justice system or the military is looking for new ways to torture bad guys, they should recruit some babies. Those suckers have the deadliest fingernails/claws/talons on the face of the planet (people, I'm here to tell you, I've got the marks to prove it). Just sic the baby on the bad guy, and he will soon regret his ways. The art of the clawing not only lies within the tool, but also the mechanics. The masterful mind of the baby tormentor knows that added pain is brought by repeatedly mauling the same poor spot of flesh.

While we are on the subject of these wild men of mine and their brutality, here's a picture of the little dudes fighting their Build-A-Bears, Tony Delk Leopard (he wears a 00 Kentucky Wildcats uniform) and Rufus Ruff. At least they were fighting their stuffed animals instead of each other.

Julian vs. Rufus Ruff and Jonas vs. Tony Delk Leopard

And I'll never get tired of pictures like this. I love these little brothers.

Aren't they the sweetest things?

Awesome Saturday

Saturday was totally awesome. After watching a terrible season of basketball, I was on the fence about driving down to Lexington on Saturday for the Wildcats' final game. I thought I might have more fun hanging out with my babies and watching the game from my couch. I don't have a big connection to the seniors on the team either (Saturday was senior day). I mean, sure, I like Julius Mays, he is a pretty cool dude, but it wasn't like I was going to cry like a baby like I have done on previous senior nights. I'm just not attached to these dudes. Anyhow, I was debating on whether or not to go to the game.

Well, I went, and I sure am glad I did! That was one of my all time favorite Rupp experiences. It started when Doug said, "Hey, Derek Anderson is over there signing books and there's not a long line." WHAT? Derek Anderson!!! Oh, how I was suddenly back in 6th grade! My heart was going pitter-patter as a DA highlight reel played in my mind. I loved him! I still love him. I definitely went and got in line, bought his book (remember when I bought Ritchie Farmer's book when he came to our grade school back in, God, I must've been in 4th grade or so), and waited for my chance to give him a hug. It was awesome. I told him that I had loved him since 6th grade, and he told me, "Thanks for reminding me how old I am." He was such a nice guy. He thanked me and Doogie for being fans and said there's nothing like UK basketball. Word.

After HUGGING DEREK ANDERSON, we went on in to Rupp and found our seats. We got there right as the senior day activities began. Though I didn't have an emotional attachment to either Twany or Julius, I did get goosebumps--24,000 blue-to-the-bone die hards singing My Old Kentucky Home, that'll make anyone get chills. It was incredible. 

And then there was the game and the crowd. Dadgum! That was an unbelievable crowd. I've been to some doozies, but never has Rupp ever been that loud! At half-time, Doug had to go secure us a beverage because I had done tore my throat screaming. It was wild! I found out later that Cal had tweeted for the Rupp crowd to stand and cheer as loud as their little lungs could cheer as soon as the 8 minute mark hit. Well, Rupp was rocking the whole game, and even moreso those last 8 minutes. And, I learned later, too, that Florida didn't score for those last 7 minutes or so. I think that is awesome. Have I ever told you that I love UK basketball?

So happy I went to that game!

Got home Saturday evening and went to Skyline with my boys. Perfect ending to a nice day. But don't you know, those boys of mine are getting so big that they are now sitting in high chairs at restaurants! Pretty soon, they'll be eating coneys. 

It's Such a Good Feeling

Jonas eating a strawberry.

When I type Dacian's name in a text message, the phone auto-corrects it to "fascism"  or "dachshund."

Last weekend when we were in Dwarf, the boys got a visit from some of their cousins, and they brought the little guys a few presents. One of these gifts was a fresh food feeder--they look like pacifiers but the end is mesh and you're supposed to put fruit or ice cubes or whatever in there and the babies can gnaw on it without the fear of choking. Well, when the babysitter (who is around 70) saw these contraptions, she said, "I remember these. My Mommy gave us something like this when we were kids. She called them sugar tits."

I think my children are destined to be warped or confused or maybe I am just training them to be stellar at trivia. Tonight, after I fed the boys, I reflected back to everything we had discussed over dinner (read: what I said to them while I tried to shove food in their little mouths). References included:

The Godfather: I know it was you, Jonas, and you broke my heart!

Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (to Jules aka Hogwarts aka the good eater, who at the time was refusing to eat): Et tu, Jules? Then fall Mommy.

Jules being awesome.

Bruno Mars: His eyes, his eyes, make the stars look like they're not shinin'!

Nickelodeon's Catdog + Si Robertson: Hey, Jack. Did you boys know that one fine day with a woof and a purr a baby was born that caused a little stir. Hey, look here! Weren't no blue bug, no 3-eyed frog, just a feline canine little catdog.

I even tried to speak some espanol: Open your mouth! Abrir!

Then I wondered if abrir actually means "to open."

And we ended dinner as we always do, "I like you just the way you are!"

Basketball Jones and the Aquarium

I tried to capture the Ale 8 sign (that yellow blur)

Well, despite the 30-point whomping by Tennessee and the season-ending injury poor Noel sustained against Florida, I still made the trip to Lexington to see my beloved Wildcats take on Vandy (like there was ever any doubt I would go). Rupp was rocking! It was a rowdy bunch, desperate to see a win. There was lots of cheering and some booing and some cussing and even some laughing (once at the referee who fell while trying to run down the court). There was also dancing. Big Bertha (the Rupp Arena sound system) was blasting some song about Wobbling (I just tried to google the song title but I don't know enough about the song to determine which is the correct title; there is something called Wobble Baby, maybe that's it). Anyhow, the wobble song was playing, the student section was dancing, the cheerleaders were getting down, and the old woman behind me said, "This song makes me want to shake it." I love going to UK basketball games. Makes me so happy.

On the way back to the car after the game, karma got me (remember when I laughed at that old guy who fell in the mudhole), or maybe it was just me being me, Grace Jones. Anyway, I bit the dust and my body hit the pavement as I tripped on an invisible line and fell in the middle of the sidewalk. Nice. At least no one laughed at me.

Back in the car, my scraped knee was forgotten when TBo and I began to reminisce about the classic movie Space Jams and its awesome soundtrack. I confessed to her that I indeed owned both the movie and the soundtrack. That I often times serenaded Ben Affleck, who was plastered on my wall, with that Monica tune from said soundtrack (For You I Will). And that I also pretended that I could actually play basketball and that Basketball Jones was written for me. God, I was so cool back in the 90s.

You know, I think the Space Jams soundtrack was one of my very first CDs. I got a CD player for Christmas when I was in 6th grade, and with it, my first few CDs, which were: Foghat Greatest Hits, Lynyrd Skynyrd Greatest Hits, and Bob Dylan Highway 61 Revisited. Yes, I was 12. And, I had no clue who Foghat was.

Back to the UK game, Jorts was the Y. I like how they put him up on the big screen at Rupp and under his image wrote, "Josh Harrellson, Former UK Basketball Player." DUH! Good grief. We are at Rupp Arena. I'm pretty sure everyone knows who Jorts is.

Big boys. Big boy stroller. Big penguin.

Anyway, so, I took the boys to the aquarium today! Hooray! This was their first official outing/activity/play date. Sure we've been to stores and restaurants (read: Target, Sam's, and Mi Tierra), but I've never taken them anywhere just for their entertainment. We met Cathy and Seth there. We were supposed to meet at 10, but naturally, we were late. People, I am telling you, it is hard work getting those little goomers and everything they need loaded up! We also busted out the new stroller, the big boy stroller, the city mini double. Oooh yeah! They were riding in style today. I do reckon they enjoyed themselves at the aquarium. True, they don't even know what the hell a fish is, but you know, they were happy happy and smiling and checking out their surroundings and being suave little dudes. We'll be going back soon, friends. Plus, they totally get in free. Score!

At the aquarium, we saw a gigantic alligator named Mike. He was 15 ft long. Is that really necessary? A 15 ft long alligator. Good grief. I'm probably going to have nightmares tonight. And you know, they play some pretty creepy music when you walk through the alligator and crocodile rooms. It reminded me of the sort of tunes they play on True Blood. I half expected ole Bill Compton to hop out at any minute and see what was up.

After we cruised through the aquarium, we headed back to our house for lunch and KING CAKE. Oh, how I love King Cake. Have you had it before? It is a Mardi Gras tradition (let wikipedia tell you all about it--click here). I, personally, want to thank my friend Sarah for introducing me to this lovely pastry. For it is heaven in cake form. It is a giant cinnamon donut stuffed with cream cheese and covered in sugar of all sorts. Please, order yourself a King Cake from Rouses Markets. They're dope.

A pretty good couple of days if I do say so myself.

I love these dudes.

The Scream Heard 'Round the State

You knew there was going to be a post about Nerlens, so don't act like this is a surprise (yes, I realize it has been 5 days). Kentucky basketball is my religion people, and the Pope didn't retire, but he blew out his knee (is this extremely offensive? if so, apologies). My beloved Nerlens was playing his hardest (the only Wildcat doing so, might I add) and trying to get the Cats back in the game. His knee died doing what it did best--elevating Nerlens above chumps so he can knock balls down dude's throats. I hope for a speedy recovery for Mr. Noel and cross my fingers that he may return to the Big Blue Nation for a sophomore year (dream on).

God, that Tennessee game was pathetic. That is all.

In other news...

I no longer feel like death warmed over and the boys are back to their cheery little selves. So happy to be done with that bs! Being sick is the worst, especially when you have 2 little dudes depending on you to care for them!

I am a true Covingtonian, people. I used my babies' stroller to haul something other than them. But, on my behalf, I was just walking across a parking lot and I wasn't carting scrap metal that I dug out of someone's trash. Because someone blocked the loading area, I had to park in the parking lot at the Children's Home when I dropped off our donations. And because Kelli and I are so awesome, we had a ton of goodies to deliver, and I couldn't carry it all in my weak arms, so I improvised. Speaking of the Children's Home, for the month of March, we are buying beach towels. So, if you want to do something good, give me $7 so that I can buy a little dude a beach towel. It'll make you feel good about yourself. $7 on that McDonald's Extra Value Meal, or $7 to the Children's Home. You know what to do! (Seriously, shoot me a message if you want more detail on how to help!)

So, we are finally all (mostly) moved in upstairs. Our bedroom is super suave. What I like most about it is our awesome closets from Ikea and our very cool bathroom by Carol. We have heat lights in the bathroom. Talk about an amazing feeling in the morning. Ah, they are nice and bright to wake me up and oh so warm! It's like taking a shower in sunshine. I recommend everyone get those for their bathroom.

The boys' room is right across the way from our bedroom. There's not really a hallway in between our rooms, just a door. You know how these old homes are. Anyway, when I lay in bed, I can see into the boys' room. I can see the little critters in their cribs. This is good and bad. Good because they are so close, so when they wake up screaming bloody murder, Doug can get to them before they disturb my sleep. And bad because, well because things like this happen:

It was about midnight and I was still awake for some reason. Doug was in the study studying (read: playing video games). The stars projector was on in the boys' room, and I was looking in there, just thinking about them, when, I saw this huge monster standing over Jonas's crib! I immediately thought of Supernatural and the Yellow-Eyed Demon. I was so scared! What was that over Jonas's crib?! (Obviously I wasn't that scared because I never got out of the bed. In the back of my mind, I knew it was just me being an idiot.) I laid there wracking my brain trying to figure out what the "creature" was, when it dawned on me. The projector was on, so there was light in the boys' room, and the "creature" was the shadow of that damn over-sized stuffed T-Rex that Boomer got them for Christmas. 

Jonas was crying the other night and Doug was already busy with ole Jules, so I had to get up and console the Bear. It usually only takes a couple verses of "Country Roads, Take Me Home" to send the Bear back to la-la land, but on this night, he required some milk. I made him a bottle, in the dark. You know, when you become a parent, your eyes quickly evolve and you develop night vision. There I was, making my way back to Jonas, when I saw something moving around in the dark nursery. WHO IS THERE?! WHAT IS MOVING?! My mind was going crazy. It moved again, and I screamed bloody murder. It was Doug. My screams woke both babies, who in turn screamed. Doug just simply asked, "What is wrong with you?" People, I think I watch too many movies. 

Little Bear and the Trouble Maker

Sick Little Bear. 

Children, today has been a sad day. My little Joe Bear is sick. He's been running a slight fever all day. I had to give him baby medicine! He looks so sad and pathetic. I wish I could be the one feeling crappy and not him. Poor little dude. I tried all of my best tricks to make him cheer up (letting him fly, giving him a million kisses, peek-a-book, farting noises, and, of course, tickle fights), but nothing worked. He is finally sleeping. I hope he feels better when he wakes up in the morning. I can't take that sad face much longer. Poor little boo-boo.

Parenting tip:

Trouble Maker.

Feeding a baby in any seat but a high chair is a bad idea. While Jovita was tending to Little Bear, I decided I'd feed Julian some applesauce. I thought he'd be alright eating from his exersaucer (some big contraption that he stands/sits in). Wrong! First of all, it didn't dawn on me that the kid wouldn't be still when I was trying to feed him. What does a baby know about the possibility of a spoon being shoved down his throat if he jumps while taking a bite? Nothing. He doesn't even know what a spoon is! That lasted for about 10 seconds. So, out of the exersaucer and into his swing/seat he went. (Yes, I did have enough sense to turn the swing function off!) Now, ole chubbs is about an inch and a pound away from outgrowing his swing.* He's already pushing this seat to its limits, and then he decides he wants to kick. He likes to raise both legs up and slam them both down with great fury. So fun! Especially in the tub where he can drench his poor mother in water, but that's a whole other story. Anyhow, so after about 5 bites, he starts his kicking frenzy. He kicks that applesauce right out of my hands, and it goes all over my shirt. Finally, I learned my lesson. I took the ole trouble maker into the kitchen and strapped him in his high chair. Naturally, by that time, he decided he was done with applesauce. I couldn't have pried those lips open with a crowbar! 

Is my hair gray yet?

*I just googled the weight limits for that swing. "Up to 25 lbs." People, there is no way in hell that thing is going to survive 8 more lbs. You should hear the way it squeaks! 

A Case of the Mondays

A list of things I've cried about today...well, not literally cried...a list of things I've whined about today:

Extreme snuggling.

My freaking foot hurts. Remember TWO WEEKS ago when I fell down the stairs in the bathroom?Yeah, still feeling that one. In addition to sucking for the mere pain aspect, there's also the whole I'm supposed to be exercising thing. A bum foot really impedes power-walking. I feel like a big loser because I haven't been hitting the gym, but truly my foot aches! What can you do but whine?

I was in the kitchen fixing myself a nice cold pop when I thought, "Hey, when Doug gets home, I'm going to get him to take me to Steak-n-Shake! Right on! Cheeseburger! Skinny fries! Strawberry milkshake!" Then I remembered, "Oh, wait. The little dudes. They'll be asleep when Doug gets home and we can't wake them for a 10 PM trip to Steak-n-Shake. Drat!"

Flipping through the channels trying to find something good to watch on the tube and I come across "Extreme Snuggling." YES! That sounds like my kind of show. Perhaps it is a program full of snuggling babies and kitties and puppies! Oh wait. That says, "Extreme Smuggling." Epic fail.

Ah, I guess today wasn't ALL bad. Here are a few gems:

I didn't know Juan Epstein was in Styx.

I devoured a package of white chocolate covered pretzels (100 calories pack--See! I'm  still on my diet!). Yum!

This morning as I sat down at my desk, my lovely coworker greeted me with amazing news: the boss was out of the office! Hooray! No ambushes with insane projects (at least for a few days). 

I received an email from Amazon telling me that I can access, for free, MP3s of all the CDs I have purchased from the site. Among the 5 CDs I have purchased (all of which were Christmas presents for my Mom or Uncle Bob, the only 2 people who still buy CDs) was Styx Greatest Hits. I hit the damn jackpot!!! I don't care what you say, Styx rocks! 

And finally, even though I felt like death warmed over for the majority of the day, and even though Joe Bear put up a stellar fight at bedtime, all my troubles melted when I saw my sweet little dudes all cozy in their cribs sawing logs. They are just too precious! (And, when they sleep, I get to sleep. La la loo!)

Some day, we will also rock out to Styx!

Six Months

Life before babies--snuggling kitties.

The boys are 6 months old today! Can you believe it? It's funny how life changes in the blink of an eye. They've only been here for 6 months, but I can't remember life without them. Actually, I can. I remember sleep fondly.

Six months ago, I was laid up in the hospital after just having 2 human beings removed from my body (I still can't believe I had twins...or that women totally got the shaft and have to grow humans inside themselves)...

My stint in the big house started a week before the boys were born. The doc called me on Thursday, July 12th. My lab work suggested pre-eclampsia, and since I was 36 weeks pregnant, it was time to be admitted to the hospital. She said I could go on in, or wait til morning. I chose to wait and have one more peaceful night in my own bed. Meaning, it was my good fortune to check into the hospital on Friday the 13th. The next week was totally lame and boring. But I guess, it was better to be safe than sorry. Nothing happened, save for Joey Votto blowing out his knee. Yeah, I watched A LOT of Reds baseball while I was in the hospital.

Baby A!

The boys were not set to arrive until the following Thursday. I was all right up until that morning, or D-Day, as I called it. Once the wheelchair arrived to escort me to the operation room, I got scared. That lasted for about 15 minutes. Didn't matter if I was scared or not, those little dudes had to be delivered. So, I had to straighten up and pretend to be brave. After having my arm brutally murdered by the nurse and her giant IV and horrible IV-inserting techniques (there were pools of blood on the floor to prove she was awful), it was showtime!

Sensitive J-Bird.

Boomer went into the operation room with me. She tried to talk to me, hold my hand, and all that good stuff to make me not think about the fact that my body was cut open and I was conscious (I still can't think about that...so strange). Anyway, I wasn't really listening or talking to her. I was too anxious. I wanted everything to be done and over with and I wanted to see my babies! It wasn't too longer after the doctor had started that she said, "Look up, Allison. A healthy baby boy. Baby A! What's his name?" And there he was, my little Julian. About twenty seconds later, she was holding Jonas up for me to see. Good looking little fellers. Holy guacamole! That. Just. Happened.

Douglas and Jason were out in the waiting room, uh, waiting. Boomer went out to tell them the boys had arrived, and as I had been moved to the recovery room, they could come take a gander. Jason cried, cause he's sensitive like that. I think Douglas was still in shock.

The boys had their first visitors that evening: Grandma Carol, Jovita, Joann, Day-Day, Tracy, and Jenna.  Day 2, they met Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Steve!

2nd day home.

We hung out in the hospital for the next few days. I thought I was dying, and was convinced that I was going to rip in half if I moved. (Ugh, please, Lord, take away the memory of what pregnancy and delivery felt like so that I may someday have another child.) Doug tried to sleep on a chair, and found out around Day 2 (in that room), that the chair actually folded out to a "bed." We fed our little dudes (the very first bottle we gave them was 15 mL...a big ole half ounce). Doug Bear changed their diapers (after the nurse showed us how) and took care of their nether regions. And we held them constantly. I can't believe how little they were!

We got 0 hours of sleep. I was completely uncomfortable, and so was Doug. Oh, and the boys had to be fed every 3 hours. One night, the nurse suggested we send the babies to the nursery so we could sleep. We did, and Doug finally got a few hours of shut-eye. I couldn't sleep because I was missing my little dudes. 6AM rolled around, and the nurse came back to the room, pushing the bassinets. I cried when she came in. I was so happy to have them back! (Doug was probably crying because he had to wake up!)

Our happy boys!

All of a sudden, it was time to go home. What do we do with them when we get home? Aaaah! I was still very much crippled, so Doug was really in for it. He had 2 babies and a wife to care for. That first week was pure hell. We didn't know what we were doing. The babies couldn't sleep without being close to their Mama, so I would sleep holding the babies, and Doug would watch us sleep (don't try this at home, people). I was not being successful with nursing. The babies were pissed because they were hungry, and I sucked at feeding them. I cried a lot. But somehow...somehow, we survived, and now it is 6 months later. We didn't break the boys. We realized formula feeding was better than a depressed, exhausted mother. We successfully bathed them (I was very concerned about this, and watched many "how to" videos when I was in the hospital). I changed a diaper (after 2 weeks of letting Doug handle it solo).
We were parents!

Baby B

And now, all is well. Our boys are happy and healthy, and we are learning new tricks every single day.
6 months...feels like a lifetime. Here's to many more months with my main men! (Pray that Doug and I survive!)

Saturday Shenanigans

The scene.

Let's rewind to Friday afternoon. On this day, I took a trip down the stairs in the bathroom. Only I could manage to do this. There I was, all set to go take a shower. The boys were in their jumper and good to go for 15 minutes, just enough time for me to run to the shower. Run I did, and somehow was moving so quickly, that I skipped the last 2 steps on my way down to the bathroom. It hurt. First of all, my bathroom is so small that I can't just land in the floor, I also have to hit something when I land. In this case, I landed on the side of my foot, which buckled due to my enormous girth. Then, my arms flailed into the sink and my head knocked against the toilet. I laid there in the floor, all sprawled out, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Crap. Please Lord don't let me have a broken bone. Check. I could move everything. I was fine, save for a minor foot injury. So, I hobbled back to the living room and laid on the couch. After about half an hour, I was good to go...although, moving a little slower than usual (and that is really slow).

Saturday was bound to be better than Friday afternoon! The morning started out pretty well. I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything packed for the boys stay at Tracy's. Two little dudes require so much stuff! The boys were going wild in their jumpers as I packed. Joe Bear started fussing, so I go pick him up. He was rubbing his little eyes and it was around naptime, so I thought he was sleepy. Took him to Doug, who was still snoozing in bed. A few minutes later Doug is hollering. There was....an explosion. I told you before I had babies that I wouldn't write about their poop, and so I will not. Let's just say that after this incident (and a similar incident that followed with his brother), this day was referred to as Brown Saturday.

I want to know, why do parents find baby poop stories so amusing? People like to tell them all the time. Folks at work, at school, they're all the time telling you about their children's bowel movements. Why? Is it that they are fascinated by something so cute producing something so vile? Something so tiny letting it rip in ridiculously huge amounts? Or, is it just that, as parents, we are amused at our partner's reaction to this mess. Honestly, this is highly entertaining. I hate poop and hearing about other people's kid's poop, but it is hysterical to see Doug carrying a child with a poopy diaper to the changing table and proceeding to do clean-up. That's why changing number 2 diapers is his job.

Those old ladies were cool, but not
as cool as Beetle!

We dropped the boys off and headed to Lexington for some basketball action. We had a good time at the ballgame, but unfortunately, we lost. The crowd started heading out at the 2 minute mark. We were down by 8 or so. I overheard the 2 old ladies behind me talking. "Everybody's acting like the game is over. Why, in 1978 when Kyle Macy played, there was a game where he scored 6 points in 36 seconds." I love little old ladies who love Kentucky basketball. Bless their hearts. Wish the Cats would've won it for them.

Walking back to our car after the game, 2 things happened. An old man nearly bit the dust when he was power-walking through the crowd. He hit a mudhole wide-open and nearly went to the ground. He recovered (after splashing nasty mudhole water all over me) and looked around to see if anyone noticed. We all noticed, buddy. The second thing that happened involved a toolbag. Some little punk in his corolla littered. He was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, rolled down his window, looked at me, and threw out his DQ ice cream cup. Idiot. I just stared at him like, "You've got to be kidding." I can't believe people litter. I hope that kid gets toe rot using the dorm showers.