Day 281 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week I asked what we should do with the kids' tax rebate money. The majority of you are a bunch of practical fuddy-duddies: 44% voted that we should put it in a savings account. There was one vote for putting the money in a stripper's g-string, but I still disapprove of Grandma Ichikawa's part-time job and there's no way I'm going to put money where I came out.

As mentioned in yesterday's entry, Emma and Andrew hate solid food. Just the mere sight of a lumpy spoon near their mouths will cause them to cry and yell in disapproval. Funny enough, a gigantic turkey leg causes Emma to drool like crazy, but that's beside the point. There must be a bunch of parents out there with more experience than us. What did you do when your kids didn't take to a slice of banana, a nugget of avocado, a scoop of Crisco?

Day 280 - Solid Food Disaster

When our pediatrician told us we could feed the kids solid foods, we figured we would start during the weekend. In our minds this was going to be a big step forward. Instead of spending so much time trying to spoon-feeding the kids, the kids would soon be able to feed themselves. And hopefully not too long after, they would be able to cook gourmet meals and do dishes.

Unfortunately, our hopes and dreams were flushed down the toilet. The kids hate solid foods. On Saturday, we tried feeding the kids little pebble-sized pieces of fresh peach. Here were the kid's reactions:

Too tart.

Too crappy.

We only got 2-3 pieces of peach in their mouths. Trying to get more than that in their mouths caused a lot of crying, swatting, and baby swearing (e.g. mamafafa). Although day 1 was a failure, we were not going to give up. We want our gourmet meals, dammit!

Today, we did our weekly outing to Target. While there, we decided to buy some stage 3 baby food. They had a variety of flavors such as spaghetti, pasta primavera, and fois gras. The consistency of the food leans towards the lumpy side, but is still smooth...much like my thighs.

So for dinner tonight, we decided to give the kids some pasta primavera. Andrew is a great eater because he always opens up his mouth wide; Emma eats well too, but she doesn't open as wide as Andrew. As we fed the kids their first spoonful of Italian cuisine, they both crinkled their noses and began to shout. The more we feed them, the angrier they became. Mamma mia!

Andrew started to shake his head back and forth every time the spoon approached his mouth. Emma didn't shake her head, but she pursed her lips when she wasn't crying and would swat the spoon away. Pureed pasta primavera was being slopped all over the place. We finally gave up feeding the kids once our dining room resembled an Olive Garden explosion.

This whole solid food introduction has been a disaster thus far. We're not too sure where to go from here, but we will probably try to see if the kids will enjoy eating other solid foods like bananas or avocados. And if for whatever reason the kids still don't take to solid foods, I will invite all of our blog readers over for a buffet-style dinner of pureed pasta primavera and spaghetti. BYOB (bring your own baby).

Here are a few pictures of the kids enjoying tonight's dinner:

Pasta prima-very sucky!

Poopy primavera!

Day 279 - Goodbye Ichikawa

This past Tuesday, Grandma and Grandpa Ichikawa returned home to Sacramento via rickshaw; they should make it back home by the end of July. I asked them if they wanted to wait one more weekend so I can help them more with the move, but they said they wanted to return as soon as possible for three reasons: 1) To check on the house. 2) Wanted to rest up for a couple of doctor appointments next week. 3) Their coupon for a free buffet dinner at the Indian casino was about to expire.

In the days since they've left, we've been adjusting to living life once again on our own with twins. Lisa has mentioned that spending all day home with the twins is more exhausting than working. I don't really understand how that can be when she has twenty kids in her class and she just has two kids at home. Consider all the ways that it's easier to take care of 9 month year old kids versus 20 students: you can let your kids poop in their pants; if they're hungry you can hand them your breasts; and most importantly, you can drink on the job.

As for me, I've been trying to make our place a little more child-proof. It's hard enough keeping an eye on Andrew moving around, but imagine how crazy it will be when Emma starts crawling. All of our electrical outlets have safety plugs, sharp corners on shelves have foam, and cabinets have latches. I still need to fasten a few bookshelves to the wall, and we ordered another pack n' play and a few storage ottomans which will replace our living room coffee table which had one too many sharp edges. After I get all of that done, I guess I'll eventually get around to remove the barbed wire in the crib and the antique guillotines in our dining room.

And I suppose in a small way, my parents are adjusting to not spending time with Andrew and Emma. Grandma Ichikawa wants to video chat with the kids every other day. They've done it several times already, and I think the kids know Grandma and Grandpa because they always get a little excited and smile. I think that's great for Emma and Andrew because every time I see Grandma Ichikawa I get muscle spasms and my ears bleed a little.

Today, I went to the apartment complex my parents stayed at to pick up a small pile of stuff they were unable to bring back to Sacramento. It was a pretty sizable stack of things, and it took most of the day to do the move and figure out where to stow everything at our place. The very last thing I had to do at their former apartment was to do a walk-thru with a representative from the leasing office.

I figured this walk-thru should be a piece of cake because of how neat my mom is. The woman I did the walk-thru with reminded me of Broom Hilda. She had a cartoony body, a smoker's voice, and frizzy hair. All she was missing was a witch's hat and Irwin the Troll. So Broom Hilda inspected the kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. She told me that the following would be deducted from my parent's deposit:

Steam cleaning: $100
Dirty drip trays on the stove: $8/each
Crumbs in the oven: $25
Dirty shower: $25

What the hell? How could this be? My parents stayed three months, they take their shoes off before they walk around in the apartment, and now they have to pay $100 for steam cleaning? If you think the oven has dirty drip trays, then you're a dirty douchebag. And then I looked at the dirty oven and shower. I wasn't too sure what was wrong with it, so I asked her to explain what was dirty. Broom Hilda told me that there were crumbs in the oven, and the shower was a little spotty. I wanted to smack her, but I asked her if I cleaned it to her satisfaction would she not charge my parents. She said yes.

I took a paper towel roll and got to work. I swear it didn't take me more than 3 minutes to clean both the oven and shower. It was basically a wipe down. Broom Hilda looked over what I did and she erased the $25 cleaning fee. I sarcastically suggested that she pay me $25 for my three minute cleaning job. She glared up at me from behind her glasses and said, "Why would I pay you $25?"

PLEASE! Could I smack her?

Finally, my time spent at the anal retentive apartment complex ended. On the way home, I called my parents to tell them that they were completely moved out and there were a couple of cleaning charges. Of course, my mom was livid about the charges. How dare they tell her that she isn't clean! It's a slap in the face of a clean freak.

"What? Dey charging us for being dir-tee? Did you tell them we take shoe off in apartment? What they expect us to dooo?!? I'm so maaaaaaad! You know what I going to do? I going to make Dad call dem!"

Then in the background I hear my dad say, "Linnndaaaaah...I don't want to call them."

My mom continues. "Ahhhhhh. Daddy don't wanna call. Well I call den! Dey tink I'm dir-tee? I no dir-tee! Humph!"

Later, my mom called and told me she did call the apartment complex. The office told them the charges were standard with every person; no exemptions -- even for Asian people who take their shoes off in their apartment. Sorry Mom!

For the time being we don't know when Grandma & Grandpa Ichikawa will be coming back down to babysit the kids for an extended visit. But we do know two things: 1) It will be at a different apartment complex; 2) If she has to scrub, vacuum, dust or caulk. As God is my mom's witness, she'll never be accused of being dirty again!

Day 278 - Picture Friday

Due to poor crib construction and Emma's weight, we use Andrew around the clock for support.

To the untrained eye it looks like Andrew is playing with Hello Kitty, but he is actually stabbing her in the back with an 8" ice pick.

"That Andrew gives me a headache."

After Andrew took Emma's toy, she took his halo and traded it in for devil horns.

"Emma's playing with her latex gloves again!"

Have a great weekend!

Day 277 - Napoleon Complex

If you are up-to-date with this blog, you know that when Andrew had his doctor's appointment this week he ended up on the lower end of the height and weight spectrum. As is often the case with little people, what they lack in stature, they overcompensate with a grandiose personality. Honestly, I disagree with this theory about small people. I think it's simpler than that: little people are more aggressive because they have small genitalia. Duh!

Ever since Andrew has been able to move, Emma's annoyance with Andrew has increased. Most of the time they get along well together and laugh at each other for whatever reason. But there are the times when Emma just wants Andrew to go away. This usually happens with Emma is contently playing with a toy. You see, when Emma plays with something, Andrew will crawl up to her, grab her toy, and crawl away. And since Emma can't crawl after him, she ends up just crying.

Today Lisa captured some pictures that shows how Andrew aggravates Emma:

"Would you like to play with this, Emma?"

"I don't THINK so, sucker!"


"HAHAHAHA! You thought I was going to give that to you! You're gullible like Mom!"


"Gee...you're crying. I'm sorry, Emma. Do you really want this?"


"THEN TAKE IT, YOU CRYBABY! You stress me out...I'm going out for a smoke."

Day 276 - Cartoon Wednesday

Day 275 - Nine Month Doctor Appt

This past Monday we had our 9 month doctor's appointment with the twins. We've been looking forward to this appointment because we were very curious about Emma's weight. It's obvious to any one's eyes and arms that Emma is heavier than Andrew, but none of us knew by how much. Lisa's guess was two pounds; my mom's guess was two to three pounds; my dad's guess was at least two pounds; and my guess was a large pony.

The first thing that always happens at the appointment is that the kids get measured and weighed. But I'll get back to those stats a little later.

Both Lisa and I really like our pediatrician who is herself a brand new mother. Each appointment ends up being a total of almost an hour because she let's us rattle off our stupid new parent questions and takes the time to listen and talk to us. And most importantly, I think she thinks I'm hot.

The doc told us that the kids are perfectly healthy and growing up quite nicely. Since we won't have another appointment until the kids turn one, she told us the main developmental highlights should be their ability to call us by our names (i.e. mama and Mr. Scott Ichikawa), being able to point and finesse their motor skills, and light household work like vacuuming and Swifter-ing. We were also given the okay to introduce actual solid foods to the kids, so we'll probably start that this weekend with small pieces of fruit, vegetables, and deep fried meats.

And now onto the kid's height and weight. Andrew was first up. He is 27 1/2" tall and 18 pounds and 2 ounces. And as for Emma, she is 28 1/4" tall and 20 pounds and 14 ounces. That makes her almost THREE pounds heavier than Andrew! No wonder that from lifting Emma up and down all the time that my chest is getting totally ripped (watch out Muscle Beach!). And although they aren't ridiculously that different, their differences within their particular gender is quite interesting. Look at the little graph below:
Notice how Andrew is in the 15th percentile for height and 20th percentile for weight; respectively, Emma is a whooping 83rd and 75th. I suppose the way this is going, there are several job opportunities for the kids in the future: Andrew can be a jockey and Emma a horse; Andrew can be a short-order cook and Emma an eat-everything cook; or Andrew can be a midget wrestler and Emma a sumo wrestler.

The bottom line is we are very happy to have two happy and healthy kids. I hope the kids will continue to be healthy for many years to come, but am a little more unsure about their happiness. Let's face it, once they start to read they're not going to be too happy about what I've written about them for the past nine months. Andrew's a monkey and Emma's a sumo wrestler? Oy. I better start editing some of these entries now...

Day 274 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week, I asked for advice on how to rid Andrew of his fear of taking a bath. You see, inconsiderate Mommy turned on the bath faucet full blast which scared the poop out of Andrew -- literally. It seems as if the vast majority of you (80%) believe we should just give up on cleaning Andrew and let him be stinky. We'll see how long that lasts until social services visits us again next Wednesday.

Thankfully, Andrew is no longer fearful of his bath. Lisa knew she had to redeem her son's love, so she figured out a way to ease him back into his nightly bath ritual. Before giving him a bath, Lisa put Andrew in the tub with his clothes on with a bunch of toys. She did this several nights in a row, and every night his crying became weaker and weaker. Here are a few pictures that show how we cured Andrew's fear in three easy steps:

Step 1: Play in tub with toys in living room.

Step 2: Play in tub with toys in kitchen sink.

Step 3: Bath time fear conquered!*

*Scott-face penis cover not included.

Finally last Friday, Andrew stopped crying and his fear of the bath tub ended. Unfortunately, Andrew fell on a bookshelf on Sunday and now has a fear of particle wood.

Probably nine or ten days ago, we received our tax initiative check in the mail. Lisa and I decided we would save half of ours and spend the other half on something frivolous, like premium gasoline. As for the kid's share, we're not too sure what to do with it. Any suggestions? Should we be practical and put it in their college savings account? Should we be fun and put it towards a family vacation? Or should we just be rat bastards and spend it on ourselves?

Day 273 - First Boo-Boo

It was inevitable that Andrew's curiosity and attempts at crawling and standing would result in an injury. This morning Andrew was pulling himself up near the loveseat, lost his grasp, and hit his head on the bottom of the bookshelf. He got a little nick on his forehead, a little blood came out, and this all resulted in a lot of screaming. Thankfully we were able to eventually divert his attention from the pain by playing an impromptu game of peek-a-boo. I suggested diverting the pain by slamming Andrew's hand in the door, but Lisa just rolled her eyes at me and mumbled something that rhymed with "backglass."

It was also inevitable that Andrew's curiosity and attempts at crawling and standing would result in an injury while the kids were on our watch and Grandma Ichikawa was still in town. The first thing I thought as I saw my poor little son cry his heart out was, "Oh crap! We're suppose to have breakfast with my mom today! I'll never hear the end of this!"

When I first saw Andrew's boo-boo, it didn't look that bad at all. But it slowly morphed before my eyes like that horrific image of the exploding Nazi heads at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Andrew's forehead became red, then slightly purplish, and then two little scratches became red. Lisa asked me if it was blood, and I quickly overreacted and told her "NO IT'S NOT BLOOD DON'T WORRY IT'S NOT BLOOD IT CAN'T BE BLOOD MY MOM'S COMING IN TEN MINUTES NO BLOOD!" But I touched Andrew's forehead with a damp white cloth, and it returned red with blood. Dammit.

In our medicine cabinet, we grabbed a little petroleum jelly and a band-aid. Andrew squirms all the time so the application of the jelly and band-aid took longer than necessary which in turn caused him to cry even more. After we fixed Andrew's gash, I looked at his sad eyes and thought to myself, "Damn...I'm never going to hear the end of this from my mom."

Time moved very slowly as I waited for my parents to arrive. I heard the front door open, and I slowly swiveled my desk chair away from them. And then I listened...

"Hellooooooo. Grandma and Grandpa are heeeere. Helloooooo Emmaaaaaah. Helloooo Andr..." My mom paused. "WHAT HAPPENED?"

Lisa lied and told my mom that Andrew fell out of his crib. My mom believed her for a moment, thought about it, then ended with her now legendary phrase, "Ahhhh! You lying to me!" Lisa proceeded to explain to my mom what happened to Andrew. I think going from a suicide jump from the crib to a clumsy tumble on the floor took the sting out of my mom's initial reaction.

Of course my mom said that for the past three months when SHE took care of the kids, nobody got hurt at all. My mom also told me how important it is to baby-proof the entire apartment. Actually, she told me this many many times: in the condo, in the elevator, on the drive to breakfast, at breakfast, on the drive to the condo, in the elevator, and in the condo.

All I can say is that thank god my mom didn't see the x-ray of Andrew's forehead...

Day 273 - Nine Months Old

Today the kids turned nine months old. Or as our friend so aptly stated: The kids have been out as long as they were in.

I'd have to say so far the last month has been the most fun. Both of the kids are starting to show more personality and most importantly laughing at my pathetic attempts at baby humor. It's also great to come home from work and see my three most important things in my life smiling at me: Emma, Andrew, and my Wii; I pasted a yellow happy face on Randolph (that's what I call my Wii).

But with the personality, I see hints of future difficulties. Mainly how do you treat two children born at the same time fairly without creating them into some Stepford kids. I'll pick up Emma to play with her, then I'll see Andrew with his scrunched up face crawling towards me wanting to be picked up too. At least this problem has an easy solution: don't pick up either of them and go watch Good Eats. But what happens with dating, borrowing the car, and evenly allocating bong time? Hopefully by that time they will either realize they are two distinct individuals or one will be a winner and the other a loser (you've always got to put all your eggs in the winner's basket, right?).

And as an aside, my parents are definitely going to leave for Sacramento next Tuesday. So tomorrow morning we're going to take them out to breakfast, and tonight my mom made us dinner. Par for the course, after spending several hours with my mom tonight I have another fun Grandma Ichikawa story.

Today's Grandma Ichikawa story must be prefaced with the definition of a few Japanese words. The first one is chin-chin (cheen-cheen). That's a baby word for penis. The second one is oshiri. That's your ass. I bet with those two words you just know today's Grandma Ichikawa story is going to be fun. On with the show...

Since my mom is leaving for Sacramento, she has been on my case about a bunch of things with the kids. It's as if everything she has been telling me over the past three months is being regurgitated in one gigantic nagging upchuck in these last few days. One thing she is concerned about is Emma's & Andrew's frequent bowel movements.

The kids poop around three times a day. Nice solid ones. Sometimes solid like a rock, occasionally pasty like putty. But never diarrhea which is a sign that something might be wrong with your kid. I think with the heat and the poop, the surrounding poop chute has been just a tad bit tender. Nothing really bad at all (Hear that Auntie Susan? Nothing to worry about!), so we just tenderly clean around there and if necessary put a little diaper cream around the hole.

After we finished dinner tonight, I was holding Emma on my lap. I told my mom that I was going to give Emma a bath tonight. My mom started to talk about Emma's poop, her tender butthole, and proper butthole hygiene. And then Grandma Ichikawa tells me...

"Make sure you wash her oshiri and chin-chin nice and squeaky clean."

I was puzzled and responded, "Wash her chin-chin?"

Without hesitation, Grandma Ichikawa retorts, "YES! You need to wash good or else it get itchy. You should know!"

"Mom...seriously. Listen to me. Wash...Emma's...penis?"

After a slight pause, my mom cracks herself up. "HAHAHAHA! HOO-HOO! What am I saying? SNICKER CHORTLE!"

Then to top it off, she ends this talk about transgender confusion with a surreal, "I guess you better wash your wife's chin-chin too!"

I really don't know what else to say about that so...have a great weekend!

Day 272 - Picture Friday

"HOLY S&*^! THE CAMERA FLASH!!!"

"You are so beautiful...to meeeee. Can't you seeeee?"

"...uuu puddin too mah-ch food intoo mah mouf..."

"Look at me! I'm daddy playing his video games!"

Don't really want to hear what Freud would say about this picture.

Have a great week-END (get it?)!

Day 271 - Moving Right Along

As I have mentioned in earlier entries, Andrew is scooting along towards full fledged crawling any week or day now. He has actually crawled short distances, pulled himself up to a standing position on available furniture, and did a six minute mile last night. As for Emma, she's probably a month or so behind Andrew in the crawling. I think now that Andrew is moving around a lot, Emma is trying to copy him because she seems to be trying harder now. She's turning over more often, gets in the crawling stance, and is taking copious notes in her ledger.

But what I can say in words can be communicated so much better with video. Take a look at these two short clips to see what stage the kids are with their crawling.

Here's Andrew slithering along the floor...



...and Emma getting herself into an awkward position.

Day 270 - Cartoon Wednesday

Day 269 - Frustrated Emma

An interesting part of having twins is seeing your kids develop at different rates. The first time Emma smiled, we were waiting for Andrew to do the same. As time past, we started to grow concerned that Andrew was taking such a long time to crack a grin. Was our son born without cheek muscles? Did he have a stroke? Will he never find any of Daddy's jokes funny? NO! NOT THAT!

Of course Andrew eventually smiled, and we stopped worrying. Pretty soon you just gain acceptance that your twins are going to develop differently. I figure as long as Andrew doesn't grow boobs and Emma doesn't drop a couple of pendulum balls between her legs, I don't care how the kids develop as long as they are happy, healthy, and find my jokes hee-lay-ree-us.

Up until recently, the kids hardly noticed each other. They would occasionally stare at each other, but would eventually set their sights on something more interesting, like rug lint. But Emma and Andrew interact a lot more now. They like to take each other's toys, pull at each other's hair, and help each other with Sunday's New York Times crossword puzzle ( 3 letter word for a fabric invented in 1941? Anyone?).

With this acknowledgment of each other brings a sense of jealousy and frustration. If Emma gets held, Andrew whines. If Andrew has Emma's toy, Emma whines. And although jealousy may not be the right word, there is a definite sense of frustration on Emma's part. You see, Andrew has been perfecting his mobility ability for the past few weeks. He's getting really close to crawling, and pulls himself upright to get a baby's eye view of the world.

But Emma isn't close to crawling yet. The most she has been able to do is push herself backwards a foot or so. The funny thing about her backward slide is that she's actually trying to push herself forward to grab something, like a toy or an eclair. So when she ends up getting farther away from her desired object, like a book or a meatloaf, she cries out in frustration.

Now imagine her frustration when she sees Andrew putting all around her grabbing things she wants to play with. You can see in her face that she really wants to move around, but damn her uncoordinated arms and legs. There are even times when Emma will be playing with a toy, and Andrew will scoot up to her, grab the toy, then scoot away with it. And what can Emma do? She can't chase after him. I suppose we could teach her how to throw a block at him, but that would be a bad idea because all of our blocks are foam; they wouldn't hurt.

Sometimes when I see how different the two of them can be, it makes me think what will happen in the future when their differences will be more pronounced. Will they be jealous of each other? How do we praise one without hurting the other one? Do we give the smart kid a car for graduation and the dumb one a bike? Hopefully we can raise the kids to accept their differences and celebrate each other's accomplishments. And if that doesn't work, we'll have the kids watch "Sophie's Choice" and tell them to watch their backs.

Day 268 - Poll Results & New Poll

With the avalanche of birthday parties we have been invited to I asked last week what sort of 1st birthday party Emma and Andrew should have. Half of you think we should just do a smallish party with family and a few friends. Twenty-five percent believe we should have strippers and weed which would be convenient since we just celebrated Grandma Ichikawa's birthday last month (plenty of leftovers, ya know). Both Lisa & I agree that we will probably have a little birthday party with family and a few friends. At first we were going to invite everyone we knew and pass out extravagant guest bags full of cash and gold bars, but thanks to you more level-headed blog readers you helped ground our ideas. Thanks a bunch, losers!

Regarding last Saturday's entry (Rub-a-Dub-Done!), since a few days have past we have a quick update about Andrew's fear of bath time: he still has it! Both Sunday and Monday night, Andrew has whimpered his way through his nightly bath. Lisa and I are hoping this fear is going to go away soon because we don't want Andrew smelling like Kim Kardashian's thong. We have several ideas on how to deal with this fear, but we're not exactly too sure which way is the best. I suggested to Lisa we strap the baby bath tub to Andrew's back like a turtle shell, but as usual Lisa thought my idea was asinine. To which I gave her my regular response, "You said 'ass'....heheheh." What do you suggest we do?

Day 267 - Happy Me Day!

Today I celebrated my first Father's Day! Well, at least my first official Father's Day -- in my book it doesn't count when you're single and drunk and accidentally impregnate your best friend's mother.

Today was a rather nice day. We went out to brunch with my parents to this place called More Than Waffles. Indeed the menu had more than waffles (i.e. omelettes, pancakes, lawn mowers, monkeys), but each of us had a combo platter with a light and crispy Belgian waffle. There was also live entertainment: a bearded man seated at a digital keyboard singing and playing his heart out to 70s and 80s songs. His ad highlighted that he also plays the guitar and accordion -- neither of which he played so I think it's a bunch of hooey.

Upon returning home from brunch, my dad and I opened our Father's Day gifts. We got my dad a portable hard drive for his laptop and a charging organizer for all of his electronic gadgets. My parents got me an 8-port usb hub for my laptop which is such an obvious gift for any father. And Lisa got me a matching shirt with the kids (see above picture), two framed pictures of my babies (although two framed pictures of Megan Fox's "babies" would've sufficed), and a video game for the Wii. Overall, it was a nice first Father's Day.

But what made it especially memorable is seen in the short video clip below. We were trying to take a picture of my dad with Emma and Andrew. My mom was trying to stay out of the photo so she was just trying to hold Emma up. But as you watch the video you can see what happens when a heavy baby is held up by a frail, elderly Japanese woman.

Day 266 - Rub-A-Dub-DONE!

Bath nights are usually done in the kitchen. We place the baby tub between the sink, fill it up with warm water, then scrub the kids down. Washing in the kitchen is particularly great because after the kids are done bathing, we use that same water to wash our dishes. And whatever is left we pour into our Brita water pitcher.

Lately, the kids learned to splash around in the tub getting us soaked in the process. Sometimes so wet that Lisa ends up looking like she just finished a wet t-shirt contest exposing all three of her nipples (...long story, don't ask...).

Enough was enough last Friday, and Lisa decided to move the baby tub into the big tub in the bathroom. I suppose it was about time and a good idea for two reasons: 1) Get the kids used to the bathroom and the big tub. 2) Our filtered water will stop tasting like Johnson & Johnson baby wash and baby urine.

Andrew was up first. Lisa filled the baby tub up with warm water, so Andrew was good to go. When Andrew entered the tub within the tub, he seemed confused because he knew this was not the usual place he washes. His little head was craning around looking at the new surroundings. Look at the shampoo bottles! Look at the soap! Look at all of the black, curly hairs! After Lisa soaped Andrew up, she turned on the faucet to get some clean water to rinse him off.

Bad idea.

The noise from the faucet freaked Andrew out. He started to bawl and in general just be pissed off. Lisa quickly rinsed Andrew off and got him out of the tub as soon as possible.

As for Emma when it was time for her to rinse off in the tub, the noise from the faucet startled her, but didn't throw a hissy fit like little wimpy sensitive over-analyzing baby (FYI my nickname in high school).

The next day, it was my turn to give Andrew a bath. Lisa already filled the tub with water, so all I had to was drop Andrew in there like a lobster. As I put Andrew's feet in the tub, he started to cry. I immediately pulled him out thinking the water might be too hot. It wasn't. This time, I put Andrew all the way into the tub and he cried again. Really loud. Really really loud.

He started to grab at my t-shirt trying to pull himself out of the tub. He was freaking out! When I decided to just take him out of the tub, Andrew was crying and literally shaking. The last time I saw someone shake like that was when I attended a diabetes conference which was unfortunately sharing the ballroom with the annual See's Candy board meeting.

When Emma took a bath after Andrew's freak out, I walked into the bathroom to show him how happy Emma was in the tub. Initially Andrew cried when I took a step towards the tub, but after awhile calmed down. The rest of the night he was his happy-go-lucky self squiggling on the floor and taking toys away from Emma.

It was quite sad to see Andrew traumatized by the whole running water incident, but at the same time it was kinda neat. Neat in the sense that you see your kid remembering things for the first time and associating certain sounds and experiences with emotions. I'm sure overtime Andrew will get over this tub episode and will probably freak out over something else in the future. But for now, we'll deal with these situations one day at a time, and possibly start a little savings account for any future therapy sessions.

Day 265 - Picture Friday

Emma shows her happiness having the toys to herself after locking Andrew in the microwave.

"CRAP! You scared me! I was just jonesing for a binky..."

Watch as Andrew lures his prey into the trap so he can claim prize to the sought after baby cheeks of the endangered Emmarilla.

"It would be a lot easier to drink this if the nipple was as huge as Mom's."

Have a great weekend!

Day 264 - If You Can't Say Something Nice...

A few weekends ago, Lisa and I were visiting our friends, Heidi and Brian, at their furniture store in Culver City. While there a guy was wandering around with a baby in a stroller. Of course since I had the twins with me, he came up to me and we struck a conversation. All the standard questions: "How old are they?" "One boy, one girl?" "Why are they so cute when you're such a geek?"

Once all of his questions were answered about the twins, the uncomfortable silence of not knowing where else to go with this conversation entered the fray. Usually I end the talks with an abrupt "Well I better go breast feed the kids now." But this time the guy broke the silence and said, "I have twins too. They're over there." He pointed to two girls probably four or five years old resembling the creepy twins in The Shining standing next to a large apothecary table (Not to be confused with the Mel Gibson line of Apocalypto patio furniture).

My generic question to parents of older twins is "When does it get easier?" The answer varies from two to four to never. I always find it peculiar when people say never because how do they know it will never get easier? Were their twins assholes, then they suddenly died in a fatal see-saw accident and that's why they can say it never got easier?

My new found furniture store buddy started to answer my standard question by saying that when they found out they were going to have twins, they braced for the worst. All of their friends were telling them how difficult it would be, but when their twins were born they thought it was relatively easy. They scoffed at their friends for telling them how hard it would be.

I told him that's exactly the way we felt! That it doesn't seem that bad. Deep inside, I felt like I found my new BFF. Would it be too metrosexual to ask him for his phone number?

He then continued to tell me that after they had their new baby (just one this time), he realized what his friends were talking about: having one kid is SO...MUCH...EASIER. I'm not exaggerating the all-caps and the ellipses. That's the way he said it. The guy continued to tell me the differences of one versus two kids emphasizing how much worse it is with twins. After a few minutes more of his diatribe, he was called off by his wife and left me stranded with my twin devil spawn.

Although almost two weeks have past since the incident, the more I thought about what he told me the more I got angry about it. Why tell me how difficult it is with twins? Why tell me all the virtues of having one baby and trash the twins? It's a slap in the face by someone who shouldn't because we shared a common bond. My BFF became a SOB!

It is true that Lisa and I are comfortable raising twins because we don't know any better. We have nothing to compare it to. But who really cares if it might be more difficult? There will always be things that are easier and more difficult to do, but what really matters is how you deal with your present situation. All I can say is that we are perfectly happy raising Emma and Andrew, and we'll keep all other opinions to ourselves.

Except for triplets. Who the hell would want triplets? Crazy, medicated Nazis...that's who!

Day 263 - Cartoon Wednesday

Day 262 - Dada Part Twotwo

The gurgling and sounds that come out of Emma and Andrew are quite interesting now. Sometimes the noises resemble words, and always the noises are punctuated with wetness. But enough talk about their butts, let's talk about their mouths.

Although Emma tends to be the one who babbles more, Andrew has not exactly been quiet. Andrew likes to grunt and yell as his frustration mounts with his inability to crawl. Just the other day, Andrew has gotten to the point where he mentions my most favorite thing in the world: me! To my ears, I hear little Andrew saying "dadaddadadaadada." Sometimes if you listen really carefully you might even be able to hear Andrew say "dadadadaisthebestdadadadadaisbetterthanmamadadada." But some others (ahemlisaahem) may debate and question the validity of the words that are coming out of his mouth. You make the call after this video clip:



So what do you think? Don't you think Andrew is saying "dadadadashouldnothavebeenlabeledageekinhighschooldadadada"?

Day 261 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week, I asked what Lisa and I should do to take advantage of my babysitting parents before they return to Sacramento. The vast majority of you (54%) begged us to take a seventeen year trip to Europe, and the remainder (36%) suggested we take a day trip. Since we couldn't decide between the two options, next weekend we're going to take a day trip to Blockbuster and watch National Lampoon's European Vacation seventeen times.

Today, Lisa IM'd me at work and told me we were just invited to ANOTHER birthday party next weekend. That will make four birthday parties in four weeks! The last time I was surrounded by that many children was when I was a supervisor in Bangladesh at a Nike shoe factory. This got Lisa and I thinking even more what to do when Emma and Andrew turn one (September 21, 2008 and their favorite toy is cash.) There are certainly many options to consider, but which one do you think is most appropriate? No party? Big party? Stag party?

Day 260 - Birthday, birthday, birthday...

Question: What will we have done three times in four weeks? If you answered "Have sex" you misread the question. I said weeks, not years. The correct answer should be baby birthday parties.

Last weekend, our friends, Paula and Randel, had their daughter's 1st birthday party. This weekend, our friends, Sam and Lance, had their twins 1st birthday party. And in two weeks, our friends, Bernard and Joyce, will have their daughter's 1st birthday party. That's a lot of fornication!

Both parties we went to were very nice. The first party was at the home, and it was all decked out with a moon bounce, a Wii tent, games, tables and tables of luau food; it was like a little bazaar. The second party was at an indoor playground called Under the Sea in Encino. There were slides, arcade games, fooz ball, air hockey, a moon bounce, and activities galore.

Having gone to a few of these baby birthday parties with our eight month year old kids, I can tell you that Andrew and Emma don't exactly have the greatest time. Both of them get quite clingy and are a bit overwhelmed. When Andrew entered Under the Sea, his eyes widened (as much as they can for an Asian kid at least) and just stared...and stared...and stared. As for Emma, she was a bit grouchy because she missed a nap. Look at these pictures of her:


...tired...


...grumpy...


...pissed off.

Not that I remember having my first birthday party, but I do recall seeing pictures of it. It was me in a high chair having a homemade cake with my parents. Come to think of it, that was my birthday every year until I left for college. I really should've tried to make more friends.

Obviously, these 1st year birthday parties are for family and friends. It's a time to bring everyone together to celebrate your child turning one. And before you know it, your kids are going to get older and want to party with their friends...not you. Unless your child turns out like me and ends up sitting in their childhood high chair out of tradition until they're 17 eating a homemade Ziggy cake. Not that there's anything wrong with that...