Day 40 - Happy Halloween

Since it is Halloween, let's start off with a short horror story...

It was a dark and dank diaper. For the fourth time in three hours, Emma released another mudslide in her pants. As usual, the removal of the diaper was met with the yells and tears of an uncomfortable baby. Not to be outdone, Andrew answered with his own yelps of neediness.

Lisa and Scott looked at each other with tired eyes. If their eyes could speak, they would still say nothing because they'd be too damn tired. The constant crying and yelling was taking a toll. What was once a beautiful, vivacious couple has slowly turned into an ugly, lazy wife and a still beautiful, vivacious husband.

After reading multiple parenting books, infant behavior websites, and "The Kite Runner" (It had nothing to do with crying, but Lisa heard it was a great read), the helpless parents had no idea what to do about their unhappy babies. Would they succumb to an endless life of crying and tears? Or would they do what most parents do and send the kids off to boarding school?

While sorting through his various spam e-mails, Scott found one subject line that stood out -- actually two if you count "Free Donkey Penis Party Now!" But the more pertinent one exclaimed "Make Crying Babies Happy Babies." After double-clicking and realizing the donkey party wasn't free, Scott read the e-mail about crying babies.

A strange, but comforting vibe emanated from the e-mail. It conveniently addressed all of the problems Lisa and Scott were having with Andrew and Emma. The e-mail also felt a little too personal when it described "...daughters who look like George Costanza and brothers who poop in the tub..."

After discussing it with Lisa while she was asleep, Scott made an appointment the following day with the baby sleep specialist, Dr. Sanguine. Dr. Sanguine's modest office was just south of Beverly Hills; it was in Compton. As the Ichikawas entered the foyer of the building, they were greeted by the welcoming committee: two prostitutes and a crackhead.

Dr. Sanguine welcomed the Ichikawa family by name.

"Hello. You must be Bert, Flo, Olaf, and Violet."

Names, yes. Correct names, no.

Sensing the Ichikawas were about to leave, the doctor impressed the parents by touching the top of the their children's heads to immediately stop the crying. Dr. Sanguine dimmed the lights, turned on a flashlight, and aimed it at the bottom of his head for dramatic effect.

"If you wish to have the peace and quiet of happy babies, then I can give you this gift..."

Dr. Sanguine put down his flashlight. He picked up a larger halogen flashlight and shined it under his face.

"...BUT NOT WITHOUT A PRICE!"

Although startled by his booming voice and theatrical lighting, Scott and Lisa leaned in to hear the doctor's next words. Dr. Sanguine explained the only way for him to give them the gift of calm babies is for Scott to lose the thing he holds most dear. This sacrifice would demonstrate how much the children mean to him. Without this sacrifice, the babies would continue to cry and more importantly, there would be no climax to this story.

Scott looked deep inside and thought to himself, "Only if that Donkey Penis Party was free, my curiosity would be fed." Then he looked a little deeper and realized what he holds most dear to him was in that room: Lisa. As he looked up at his once beautiful and vivacious but now ugly and lazy wife, there was a tear in her eye. She knew she was what he held most dear to his heart; Lisa was anything if one big ego whore.

The crying and wailing started on cue as if Andrew and Emma knew their mother's fate. Lisa walked to her purse and conveniently pulled out a Pfeifer-Zelika .600 Nitro Express Magnum she forgot to take out after her last Mommy & Me class. She gave her babies and husband one last hug. Scott turned his head as the gun went off in the hallway. The deal was done.

But the babies were still crying. Scott snapped his fingers with a thought. He quickly drove home, unhooked his Wii, smashed it with a hammer, and returned. The babies were no longer crying. Now...the deal was done.

And with that...some Halloween pictures!!!

"Small question: Is it bad when your entire right shoulder goes numb?"

"Interesting. People package what I make in my pants."

"I love chocolate!"

"...i hate chocolate..."

Happy Halloween!

Day 38 - Poll Result & New Poll

There's no monkeying around when it comes around to figuring out which monkey looks like Andrew. The capuchin won with 91% of the vote! Chimp Chimp Hurray!

Obviously, this week's poll has to deal with Emma. Which fictional character does Emma most resemble?

A picture of Emma for reference.

George Costanza


The Swedish Chef

Jabba the Hutt

Momma from "Throw Momma From the Train"

Day 36 - Fat, Fat, Fatty!!!

I just finished putting together this quick little montage of Lisa around 16 to 36 weeks pregnant. Since we didn't take any pictures while Lisa was on bed rest for five weeks, there's a rather sudden jump from baby in the oven to pygmy elephant in the oven. Enjoy!

Day 36 - Picturerama

Yesterday marked the beginning of Andrew and Emma's fifth week! We hope they stay nice and healthy because we didn't buy the extended 90 day warranty. And to make it worse, I don't know where the receipt went.

Here are a few pictures from the past week:

In 251 months, we'll be able to buy booze. Yippee!

"Grandma...I feel uncomfortable where you are touching me."

"I'm TELLING you! This made in China swing has lead!!!"

Her appetite not sated, Emma sucks the life out of Grandma Ichinaga.

Notice the expression on Andrew and Emma which illustrates
how they feel about having Scott & Lisa as their parents.

Day 35 - Victim of Circumcision

Lisa and I never gave much thought to circumcision. We figured Andrew would be circumcised since we both are too -- although with Lisa it was a bad bed of nails accident. As our doctors and pediatricians asked whether or not we were going to ginsu knife Andrew's delicate sashimi, their response to our affirmative answer was always, "...oh...okay..."

You see, there are a number of associations that don't advocate circumcision. For instance, the American Academy of Pediatrics says there's "...insufficient data to recommend routine neonatal circumcision." Other groups against circumcision include Foreskin Forever, No Stitch In Time Saves 6 Inches, and Triple AAA (you get 10% off at Pep Boys if you show your uncircumcised penis).

As soon as I heard circumcision isn't totally recommended, I went ahead and did a little internet research. First of all, if you read the Wikipedia article on circumcision there are quite a few pictures of flaccid and erect penises. Secondly, even though there are graphic pictures of penises they are not blocked from your work computer. Lastly, do not read the Wikipedia article on circumcision when your bosses are around the office. Also it does not help your cause when you accidentally shout out loud, "Omigod! Look at those erect penises on my computer screen!"

Most of the articles I read said there wasn't really anything that good or bad about circumcision. And if there's not really anything that good about it, why do it. There are of course religious and cultural reasons to perform circumcision. Additionally, some studies show benefits of peeling the banana: randomized control studies show that there is a 50-60% reduction in risk of HIV transmission from female to male; there is a lower risk of infection and inflammation of the penis; and lower cases of penile cancer from anywhere from 3 to 22 times less. Which is great news for me because I still smoke cigars with my penis.

As the days grew closer to the final cut, I was still wavering with my decision. I emailed Lisa's sister, Susan, for her advice. Not because she has a circumcised penis, but she is a pediatric nurse. She responded that although circumcision is not necessary, her personal opinion was to do it due to hygiene benefits.

All this time Lisa was firm with her opinion to have Andrew's salami sliced. Easy for her to say since she doesn't have a penis, although she does have two gigantic testicles. Since Lisa had a strong opinion and due to a handful of potential health benefits I decided we would proceed with the procedure.

September 28th. We all get into the car and make our way to the doctor's office. I called it D-Day: Dick Day. When we arrived at the hospital, the nurse escorted us into a room with a little bed and four velcro straps. The nurse asked us to take off his pants. After Lisa mistakenly took my pants off, we correctly got Andrew naked from the waist down.

The saddest part was to see the nurse strap Andrew's four limbs to the bed. He was crying and crying. His face was a deep red that soon turned to purple. I could've sworn he said his first words which may have been "F U", but it was all mixed up with the yelling.

The doctor entered the room. As he was preparing his instruments, I was preparing my mind. I hate blood and surgery and doctors, but Andrew's my kid. Although he will never remember this day, I will. And how could I desert him when he's obviously distressed and confused. Only a good father would stay with his son.

Before the mangling commenced, the doctor turned to me and said, "You know, you don't have to be in here. I'm a doctor and I wasn't even in the room when my son was circumcised."

I stood firm and said, "Sounds good to me! I'll be right out the door."

I mean seriously. Andrew will never remember this day, and I can learn to be a good father tomorrow. Screw that.

The whole procedure only took about a minute. There was some crying involved, but surprisingly, after I wiped my eyes I calmed down quite a bit. When we reentered the room Andrew was calm. The doctor and nurse said he was very brave and instructed us how to take care of his newly shaved penis. Over the next week, there was absolutely nothing weird or odd or bloody that happened with Andrew's wee-wee.

If I learned anything from this, I learned that when it comes to your kids you just want to do what's best for them. And even when you do what you think is best for them, you still wonder whether or not you made the right decision. Sadly, my fretting over circumcision is just a glimpse of the many larger problems and decisions Lisa and I will have to make down the road.

Oh! And I also learned that when push comes to shove, I'll ditch my kid for the nearest door.

Day 31 - Caption Contest Failure & New Poll

I am so disappointed with all of you. The caption contest was a failure! I only received one caption so by default the winner is Kevin Tajii.

His winning caption is: My name is not SUSAN!!!

As the winner, Kevin receives Andrew or Emma for 24 consecutive weekends starting next week. Congrats Kevin!

I guess I'll go back to the polls so here is this week's poll: What monkey does Andrew most resemble?

A picture of Andrew for reference

Capuchin

Macaque

Marmoset

Night Monkey

Day 30 - One Month Old!!!

Today is the one month birthday for Andrew and Emma. It felt like yesterday when they were but a figment of my inner loins. The past month has been a blur of family, friends, crying, feedings, and countless diapers (and one soiled tub). It is quite surprising how different they look after just four weeks. Here is a picture of them from week one:


And here is a picture of them from the end of last week:


Even more surprising is how much Lisa and I have aged. Look at this picture of us from this morning:


You can tell it's early morning because Lisa doesn't have her teeth in yet.

We decided since they are now a month old we would take a short trip out to the mall. We packed up the diaper bag and hauled everyone to the Westfield Mall in Sherman Oaks. Thankfully the kids were asleep the entire time we were out shopping, and I only fell asleep once behind the wheel.

I noticed there are two groups of people who approach you when you have twins: old people and young couples with babies. Old people tend to say encouraging things like "Good for you" or "It's such a blessing." Young couples with one baby tend to question our sanity by saying things like "Twins? What the hell are you thinking?" or "Do you ever misplace one on purpose?"

I have also realized how stupid people can be when they approach you to start a conversation about the twins.

"Are those babies yours?"

No. They're leftover Chinese baby girls I picked up in a dumpster behind Panda Express.

"You have two babies?'

Yes. And do you have two asses because you're fat.

One older man approached me at Starbucks and generically asked "Are they twins?" I told him yes. He gazed at Andrew and Emma. He smiled at Andrew and told me "he looks like an angel." I waited for a compliment for Emma, but he walked away with his latte. Poor Emma. I should've covered up her 666 on her forehead before we went out.

Overall, it has been a tiring month, but not as bad as we thought. I'm sure having our parents living with us helps out quite a bit. Hopefully in the next day or two I'll share some...err..interesting anecdotes about having Grandma Ichinaga and Grandma & Grandpa Ichikawa around 24/7. I'm also working on a little post about Andrew's circumcision and breast feeding. And I really hope I'll have another funny feces story this week. Cross your fingers!

And now enjoy a few photos...

Andrew auditions for the all-Asian cast of "Damn Yankees" (not to be mistaken for the Broadway musical, but actually a one-act play about a bunch of angry Japanese in an internment camp.)

Emma's head being dragged away by Snuggles, the teddy bear fabric softener hawker and kidnapper.

Thankfully the stranger who took this picture for us threw the memory card at me before running off with my camera.

Our big and heavy stroller falls sideways as it creates a sink hole in the sidewalk.

Scott shows Andrew what he does at work from 3-4pm.

Day 29 - Rub A Dub Dub

First of all, Andrew and Emma are now four weeks old and tomorrow they will be one month old. Secondly, Lisa and I feel like forty years old and tomorrow we will be one month closer to death. Sorry for a lack of blog updates this week, but I will try to be more diligent. At the very least, I'll post pictures throughout the week! Anyhoo, on with today's story.

My parents have been down here for the past two weeks to help us out (more details to follow), and I must share a bathing incident with Grannie Ichikawa and Andrew.

For the past few days, a rash has engaged itself around Andrew's butt. We've been putting some different types of creams and ointments to soothe the redness. Nothing says parenthood like diddling your child's anus proudly with topical cream.

Our nightly routine is to shampoo and wipe down the kids every night, and give them a bath every other night. But for my mother that is just not clean enough. Although my mom is not Howard Hughes clean (though she does pee in milk bottles), she is a very neat person. She's the type that cleans a hotel room before using anything. This is why she was upset when she stayed in a fancy hotel that had two bathrooms. "Now I have TWO bathrooms to clean! What kind of vacation is this?"

A few days ago before I came home from work, my mom wanted to wash Andrew's butt.

"I tink I will wash Andrew before Scotty come home. Just his butt though. Poor ting," sighed my mother.

Over the past few weeks, my mom has jumped in the trenches and pretty much does or tries to do everything. She pulled out the baby bath tub, our bucket of bathing goods, the froggie hoodie towel, and a diaper. All gets arranged around our kitchen sink like a five course meal at a fancy restaurant. The water: a perfect temperature. And it begins...

Since my mom just wanted to do a quick wash, she decided she would only get Andrew's bottom half naked. She enlisted my dad to help hold Andrew in the tub while she washes and rinses.

"Look at Andrew. He so happy I wash butt," gleams my mom.

And then disaster number one happens. Or to be more exact, number two. Andrew craps all over the tub. Neat freak Grannie Ichikawa freaks out.

"OH NO!!!! He pooping in tub!"

My mom commands my dad to pull Andrew out of the tub so she can dump the muddy water into the kitchen sink. As my panicked mom cleans the tub with hot water, my dad holds Andrew half naked over the kitchen counter. Cue disaster number two. Or to be more exact, number one. Andrew pees all over the kitchen.

"OH NO!!! He peeing in kitchen!"

My mom commands my dad to cover Andrew's penis with a bath towel while the feces covered tub is left in the sink. This body function fiasco has my parents running back and forth between the bedroom and kitchen trying to keep this from getting any worse. There's poop in the sink. There's poop in the tub. There's pee in the sink. There's pee on the counter. There's pee in towels. It's basically the end of the movie "Quills."

Of course my mom has to clean everything before I come home. She gets her best friend, Clorox, out from under the sink and starts scrubbing away. After the last sponge is squeezed dry, my mom collapses in the living room proclaiming, "I'm pooped."

Yes, Mom. You were pooped.

P.S. You may be wondering what Lisa was doing during all of this. She was laughing and taking pictures. Here are the pictures! Good job Lisa!

Not even a mighty Sea Monkey would survive in there.

"Where's the Clorox?!?"

Day 23 - Et Pu Andrew?

After weeks of laughing at Lisa's portrayal of a fan, the proverbial s&*@ hit me.

It all started rather innocently. Andrew woke up from his afternoon nap with a few whimpers and a yelp. Dutiful me, I push Lisa aside from her late lunch of vodka and weed. When I approached my son, there was no sign of gastrointestinal distress. No rumblings. No gas. I carefully peeled Andrew's diaper off and placed a small wash cloth...err...I mean I placed an adult sized bath towel (...sorry Andrew...) over his slinky and super balls. This quietness was just the calm before the storm...the poo-fect storm.

I raised Andrew's legs up to give him a quick cleaning. As I grazed his baby butt hole with a baby wipe, a waft of gas leaked out followed by a generous heaping of poop. Thankfully, Lisa was breastfeeding Emma so there was nobody to take a picture. Although there is no longer any physical evidence of this incident, sometimes the only proof you need is a wife who will mercilessly never let go of a story because of all the times a certain someone decided to take a picture instead of lending a helping hand.

And with that...a few pictures.

"Which camera am I looking at? A or B?"

"Seriously...stop dressing me in pink. Serious."

"You are right. Your cheeks ARE softer than mine."

"If I look peaceful like this, they'll never know I hid Emma."

"Please lord! Make this tub water warmer!"

Grandpa Ichikawa grafts Emma's head to his left forearm.

"You've been trying to burp me for 10 minutes. Give it a rest!"

Day 22 - Attack of the Colon: Part Doo

This just in! Or out, to be more specific...

One thing as parents that you must learn is to not be too quick to change a diaper. If you hear your kid farting or passing gas, please wait!

My parents were feeding the kids (WITH BOTTLES! Get your head out of the gutter...), and my dad heard Emma make a poo-poo diaper. So he calls for Lisa to change the diaper. Lo and behold, look at the results:


I was thinking of making this another Find the Poop poll, but it's actually one long stream of feces that runs from the t-shirt all the way down to the feet. Where's the challenge in that?

Will post more later today with new pics!

Day 19 - Poll Results/Answer & Caption This!

Although 44% of you believe there were eight spots of Andrew's poop on Lisa, all of you were wrong! Losers!

The two of you (22%) who voted for ten spots of poop are winners!

But let us not lose sight of who is the biggest loser of all regarding this poll: Lisa's pajamas.


I'll put up a new poll later, but thought I would try something a little different this week: a caption contest! Look at the following picture and give it the best caption possible. Just email me at scottonewa@aol.com or post a comment. After seven days, Andrew and Emma will pick a winner! Here's the picture...

Day 17 - Dancing With The Ichikawas

Yesterday, Lisa's mom and sister flew back to Santa Clara while my parents flew down from Sacramento. Luckily (or not), our parents are taking turns staying with us every few weeks as long as we need their help.

As my mom does every Monday night, she watches Dancing with the Stars and adds color commentary in her ever present Japanese accent.

"She no turn good."

"He have no rhythm."

"She dress like prostitute!"

I was bottle feeding Andrew as Lisa and my mom were watching the program. Wayne Newton came on and tried to dance a tango. Due to my extensive musical theater background, I believe I have the authority to say that he is not a very good dancer. But don't take my word for it, listen to this conversation between Lisa and my mom:

Lisa: Wow. I don't understand why Carrie Ann is so nice to Wayne Newton. He just doesn't look comfortable on the dance floor. He's so stiff and is alway off the beat. Look at him stand there and not know what to do next. You can tell that he's thinking what he has to do next. What do you think, Mom?

Mom: He sucky.

Take a look at the next few photos of Andrew as he was watching Wayne Newton dance:

"I can't believe this train wreck."

"Vote him off of there!"

"His incompetent dancing made me poop my pants!"