Monday, January 30, 2012
A few weeks ago...oh hell...who am I kidding. About a month ago I asked you what you thought Crazy Gaga's cryptic "Yippy Dippy Doo" cry meant. She told me that it was a cartoon show that I used to watch as a kid. Personally, I thought that was how Crazy Gaga described the first time she went to a fondue party.
It was a unanimous vote: every one voted for "Scooby Doo." "Yippy Dippy Doo" certainly sounds a lot like "Scooby Dooby Doo", but once again you are using too much logic; you are dealing with Crazy Gaga here. The actual answer to the poll is "The Flintstones."
"Yippy Dippy Doo" is suppose to mean "Yabba Dabba Doo" which is suppose to mean "The Flintstones". What really matters, and what truly only matters in my sad, sad world is that this makes total sense to Crazy Gaga. As long as it makes sense to her, the rest of the world is dumb.
But the more I think about it, the more this makes sense to me. After all, "Dummy Dumb Dumb-dumb" is "Dragnet", "Dummy dummy dummy dummy dummy dummy dummy dummy Dumb Dumb" is "Batman", and "Shazbot" is "This American Life."
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Just recently, the kids are using the shower on the weekends. During school days, we give them a good scrubbing in the tub, but we figure we can do a lighter wash on the weekends since all they really do is roll around in squirrel and dog urine at the park.
We have heard of traumatic shower experiences from friends, so we were unsure whether or not Andrew and Emma would like it. After all, these are the same kids who are occasionally terrified of "Ni-Hao Kai-lan" and Willie the Giant -- not to be confused with the Willie the Giant of 1970s adult films fame. But surprisingly, the kids love it!
I think what the kids love about taking a shower is that we installed a hand-held shower head into our walk-in shower. The shower head has about five or six settings, and the kids find all of them pretty hilarious. I use the regular shower spray settings to wash and rinse them. The kids crack up at the massage and pulsating settings. And there is one really weak, single spray of water that they call the "pee-pee" setting.
I've been giving them their showers on the weekend, and the entire routine is very peculiar to me because it is very reminiscent of your typical prison movie. You round-up the unruly inmates and strip them down. After cattle prodding them into the shower, you grab the water hose. An intense stream of water pressure forces them into the corner of the shower, cowering and covering their eyes. Afterwards, you toss them a towel to dry off. And at the end, you give them their Flintstones vitamins, a cup of warm milk, and a few honey graham crackers to end the day. Well, it's exactly like a prison movie except for that last part.
Personally, I think the key to making the shower a fun place for our kids was two-fold: installing the hand-held shower head and the kids having each other. The one thing I remember hating as a child was getting water in my eye -- although cigarette burns came in a close second. Having the hand-held shower head allows you to control where the water lands on your child. But who's to say if the water accidentally sprays your child's face if he is misbehaving.
And the one thing we find about having twins is that they often play off of one another. So if one kid finds the shower super fun, the other kid doesn't want to miss out. Of course there is also the yin and yang aspect of twins (as evidenced by the Wonder Twins' super powers), but thankfully there is no evidence of that with showering.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
1) Take a bath.
2) Spill water all over the bathroom floor.
3) Get dressed in PJs.
4) Bedtime snack.
5) Smear bedtime snack all over PJs.
6) Get dressed in new PJs.
7) Watch two YouTube selections each.
8) Get pissed off because they only got to watch two YouTubes each.
9) Brush teeth.
10) Get toothpaste drool all over PJs.
11) Get dressed in new PJs.
12) Storytime in bed.
13) Procrastinate bedtime for 30-45 minutes.
It can be a rather lengthy and frustrating process, but at least we have invested heavily in multiple PJs.
We started to allow the kids to watch a few YouTube videos before bedtime because we didn't want them to watch a full-length television show, but it did provide us about ten minutes of quiet time for us to clean up the house and down several brandy snifters.
There are occasions when the kids try to prolong their television watching by demanding that Mommy and Daddy pick a YouTube video too. But how many times can someone watch The Evolution of Dance or Charlie Bit My Finger? Heh heh. That silly kid let Charlie bite his finger AGAIN. Hehehehehe.
A few nights ago, Andrew became very angry because he wanted me to pick a YouTube video. I told him I did not want to pick a video because it was time for bed. This did not sit well with little Andrew. He crossed his arms and made a sour Richard Nixon face.
So instead of being a typical parent and enforcing my parental might upon the powerless child, I did something a little off-center...as is the way I do most things in my life. I went downstairs, quickly put together a short video, ran back upstairs, and told Andrew I would pick a YouTube video about this Cars 2 toy that Andrew has:
Andrew was a little stunned and shocked by what he saw. Afterwards, I stared at Andrew and said, "Andrew. Time to go to sleep." And then Andrew gave a little smile and chuckle, and ran upstairs to his bedroom.
So the moral of this story is that with a little creativity, ingenuity, and an extra forty-five minutes to record, edit, and upload a YouTube video, you can teach your child to mind their parent.
Friday, January 20, 2012
This is the face you get when you ask Emma to impersonate Mommy walking into the bathroom after Daddy.
Andrew spares no mercy on Emma's dolls when he catches them around his Cars toys.
What, me worry?
"All this for teeth that are just going to fall out?"
Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
I don't know if you get this from reading the blog, but I can occasionally be rather irritating and annoying with my sense of humor. But to defend myself, I'm pretty good at knowing my audience which is a key component when making a rude joke. Unfortunately, if you're part of my family that means I'll constantly pummel you with a joke because blood is always thicker than jokes.
To get to the point, Lisa picked up the kids today and had a story to tell me. During story time at school, the teacher was telling the children the story of the Three Little Pigs. And each time the teacher mentioned the piggies in the story, Andrew and Emma would shout out, "Mommy!"
So the teacher asked them, "Does your mommy read you this story at home?"
"No," answered Andrew and Emma. "Mommy IS the piggy!"
Now those of you who may have forgotten, I jokingly referred to Lisa as a piggy when the kids were watching the song "Jolly Holiday" from the movie Mary Poppins. You know, the scene when Bert and the barn animals are singing? I suppose that really doesn't matter much when the kids have long associated a pig to their mommy...
Lisa had a discussion with the teacher about how I have engrained into Andrew's and Emma's heads that their mommy is a piggy. I hope the talk went something like this:
My husband's so hysterical! He has the kids calling me a piggy, and each time they do it makes me laugh ever so! I know it's acceptable for them to call me a pig because I do not look anything like a pig. Which makes it even MORE hysterical.
Oh, lucky wife of Scott Ichikawa. How I envy you!
But I think the talk might've gone something like this:
That a$$hole best stop f*&(ing around with the kids. If he makes them call me a motherf*&ing pig one more motherf*#&ing time, I'm going to take an apple and stuff it down his f*#^ing mouth until it comes out his sh*tty f&*k a$$hole!
I guess I need to monitor what I say around the kids more, but thankfully, Lisa has been with me long enough that she has accepted my stupidity and jackassery. I'll just have to sit the kids down and explain to them that it is unacceptable to call their mommy a pig at school...but at home feel free to tape as many curly, pink pipe cleaners to Mommy's ass to your heart's content!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
It was time to put the kids to sleep, but I wanted to watch the game until the commercial break. Andrew peeked through the stair banister waiting for me to come up stairs to tuck him into bed.
"Daddy! Come up!" yelled Andrew.
"Just a second," I said. "I'll be up in a few minutes."
"I'm going to bed! Tuck me in!" Andrew demanded.
"Andrew, I will be upstairs as soon as this is over," I pleaded.
But Andrew did not care about my situation; he just wanted me to tell him a story in bed. "You come up NOW!" he screamed.
I was losing my patience. "Andrew. Please let me finish watching this. I can't tuck you in and watch this at the same time. Just...WAIT!"
And then Andrew came up with the obvious solution. He said, "Daddy...pause it."
I've networked entire production offices and set up multiple home theater systems, but my four year old son figured out that all I had to do was push pause on the Tivo remote. I was so proud of my future geek son that the next day I let him upgrade the RAM in my laptop.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Just smelling the chocolate frosting gives Andrew sugar convulsions.
"Stop looking for white hairs!!!"
"Please can we put Andrew in there?"
Andrew loves Sphincterland.
Let's see what happens when we replace Emma's regular toothpaste with kitchen sink caulk!
Have a great weekend!
Thursday, January 12, 2012
When I start a new job, I usually bring my laptop and iPad to work for the first week or two. I do this because it makes for an easier transition to the office computer, and it also takes about seven to nine days to delete all of the pornography off my laptop hard drive so it is safe to use at home.
Lisa is now picking up the kids from school every day. When they returned home, Andrew had this conversation with Lisa.
"I want to play a game on the iPad," said Andrew.
"Sorry, Andrew. Daddy took the iPad to work," answered Lisa.
"How 'bout the computer?" questioned Andrew.
"Daddy took that," Lisa replied.
"How 'bout the phone?" asked Andrew.
"Daddy has that, too," Lisa answered again.
And then Andrew threw up his arms in despair and yelled, "WHHHHHY?!?!?!?!"
Oh! Like geeky father, like geeky son.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Andrew is 99.999% potty trained with his peeing. We only have to put diapers on him at night because he's a pretty sound sleeper and a pretty big pisser. But I'd say Andrew is about 90-95% potty trained with his crapping. It's once in a brown moon when he actually craps his pants, but the current problem with Andrew is that he waits until the very last moment to poop so his underwear often looks like See's Candy smocks after a long hard day at work.
This isn't a problem at home, but it becomes a little more problematic when we're out and about. We were at the mall having lunch at the food court when Andrew gave us the look. At this point, he doesn't even have to tell us he has to poop because he has a trademarked poop face. It's basically a furrowed brow, worried eyes, and clenched teeth. And the fact he's grabbing his ass seals the deal.
So I rush Andrew to the bathroom. There was only one stall open. So we enter and I notice that the toilet was...umm...how can I say this without being too explicit? Well, you know how guys are stereotypically characterized as slobs because we drop our crap everywhere and never clean up? That's literally how the toilet looked like.
I had to make a choice: do I allow Andrew to crap his pants, or do I hold Andrew over the toilet so he can crap in the toilet? And you thought Sophie had a tough choice! After seeing Andrew's worried face, i decided that I would hold Andrew over the toilet. So I layer the toilet seat with sanitary covers, pulled down Andrew's pants, and was about to hold Andrew over the toilet. But then another problem happened: Andrew saw the toilet.
"nnnnnnnnNO!" screamed Andrew.
"Andrew, this is the only toilet. I'll hold you over it, okay?" I explained.
"No no NO! It's DIRTY!!!!" yelled Andrew.
"I know it's dirty, but you won't touch the toilet at all," I said.
Andrew was getting very angry with me. "Look! There's POOP all OVER!"
Pretty soon, there might be poop all over my shoes. So I made one last attempt to put Andrew over the toilet, but I once again was met by defiance.
"THERE IS POOP THERE AND THERE AND THERE! NOOOOOOOOOOO!" screeched Andrew.
That was it. I pulled up his pants. We washed our hands. And I handed Andrew off to Lisa so she could take him to the women's restroom.
As I sat in the food court and thought about what happened, two things dawned on me. First, I realized Andrew was right all along. There was no way I would have used that toilet, so why was I trying to force Andrew to use it? I think there are times when there are remnants of the early years of parenting when your kids would do whatever you asked them to do because they didn't know any better and had no opinions of things. Sometimes I just have to remember that Andrew is no longer a baby anymore.
And the second thing I realized was the bowl of yellow curry I was eating for lunch no longer looked appetizing to me.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Our downstairs office has recently turned into a toddler version of Michael's. Neighborhood kids can even come once a week and get 40% off one regularly priced item. There is construction paper, pens, finger paint, clay, playdoh, asbestos, and rat poison; I really got to clear out those last two items.
The kids are very interested in mastering the use of scissors. I think this is because they mastered the use of machetes last week, and the week before they mastered the meat slicer. Emma and Andrew will come up to me with a piece of construction and ask me to draw different shapes that they can cut out.
Emma came up to me and said, "Daddy, can you draw me shapes?"
"Sure," I answered. "Here's a circle. A square. A triangle. And what else should I draw?"
"I know," chimed Emma. "A cylinder!"
I wanted to call Emma a show-off, but I acquiesced and drew her a nice cylinder.
"Thank you, Daddy!" said Emma and she skipped back to the activity table.
Andrew saw what I did for Emma, so he came up to me and said, "Daddy, can you draw me shapes too?"
"Hmm...what kind of shapes do you want?" I asked.
"Same as Emma," answered Andrew.
So I drew a circle, a square, a triangle, and a cylinder, and handed it to Andrew.
Andrew looked puzzled, pointed to the cylinder, and said with surprised confusion, "Wha dat?!?"
Too create less confusion, I answered, "A popsicle." And Andrew, too, skipped happily back to the table.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Have you ever had a conversation like this with your four year old girl?
Emma, what are you drinking?
looks at the juice box
points at the juice box
Emma. You're drinking grape juice.
looks at juice box again
No. It's plum juice.
But look at the picture of the grape on your juice box.
Daddy! That's not a grape. That's a plum!
But it doesn't say the word plum anywhere on the box!
If it tastes like plums, then it's PLUM juice, Daddy!
Well, I have been having way too many of these one way, dead-end conversations with Emma. I'll try to correct her about something, but her four year old logic beats my college educated mind every time. The thing about four year old reasoning is that things are the way they are because that's the way you want them to be. Screw logic and reasoning! Nietzsche, Kant, Plato, and Aristotle...what the hell do they know. But Phineas, Ferb, Lance Rock, and Elmo...they are the gospel!
When these moments occur with Emma, I find myself strangely competitive and determined to prove her wrong. Part of it is that I want Emma to understand that it's okay to be wrong and to be corrected. The other part of it is that she's F*&^ING WRONG!!!! IT'S GRAPE JUICE, DAMMIT! PLUMS DON'T EVEN GROW ON VINES!
I don't know why Emma is so stubborn about being corrected. Maybe like many things it is just a phase, or maybe she likes to see my flustered face because it makes her laugh. But I think it is just another clue to her maturing and developing personality. She'll probably be a pretty astute girl who does not enjoy being proven wrong. In other words, Emma is just like Mommy.
It will be even more frightening for me when Emma gets older and will actually make sense with her arguments. But I have been thinking long and hard about that recently and have come up with two fool-proof, all-purpose answers: 1) Because I said so! and 2) Ask your Mom!
I really do think I have the teenage years under control now.
Friday, January 6, 2012
"Wait...this isn't the Hogswart?"
Emma learns what happens when you don't pick up your toys.
Poor Andrew fainted after finishing the entire William Tell Overture.
"A donkey named Eeyore is his friend, and Kanga and little Roo..."
Have a great weekend!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Digital cameras are great and awful. They're great because you can take as many pictures as you want, and they're awful because you can take as many pictures as you want. Sometimes I yearn for the days when you had to wait a week to pick up your photos from the lab to find out that only 7 of your 24 pictures were actually good. The remaining seventeen were usually out of focus, poorly lit, or painful reminders of how hideous teenage skin can be.
With the advent and popularity of digital cameras, the results are immediate and polished. You can do a burst of ten photos and pick the best one. Or you can use a photo editing program to erase embarrassing blemishes like a zit or Crazy Gaga's entire face.
Over the holiday break, I probably ended up taking over six hundred photos and deleted about a hundred of them. But I probably delete photos a little differently from most because I like to keep the bad expressions and horrid group shots. To me, they are just as -- if not more -- interesting than your standard smile or candid shot. Who really wants to see another group shot of perfectly smiling family members when you can get a picture with an out of focus cousin in the background smoking a bong?
As I went through the pictures of Emma and Andrew I realized how different they are at taking pictures. Emma really knows how to smile and pose for the camera. And Andrew has a great natural smile, but his forced smile borders on the side of a diarrhea seizure.
But they each have their own Achilles' Heel when it comes to photos: Emma always has her hair in her face, and Andrew will have a contorted expression. I put together a couple of photos taken over the holiday break and put them into a collage to prove my point:
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
This sunny Southern California afternoon, the kids were surprisingly playing well together. Then again, what four year old wouldn't enjoy playing with a rusty potato peeler? Who needs an iPad when you have a drawer full of old OXO kitchen gadgets?
Yet the playfulness stopped when Andrew realized there was a stank in the air.
"Emma! Do you smell that?" exclaimed Andrew.
"No," Emma responded meekly.
"Something stinks! It smell like poo-poo!" Andrew tries to use the word "poo-poo" as often as possible.
"I don't smell anything," Emma reiterated.
Andrew stood up and looked around like a drunk lemur. For some reason, Andrew grabbed Emma's finger and took in a big whiff.
"Emma! Your finger smells!" proclaimed Andrew with disgust.
Emma pulled away from Andrew. How dare he state that her finger smells? But just to make sure, Emma took a generous sniff of her finger, crinkled her nose, and nodded in agreement.
Emma looked at Andrew and said, "Mmm. Just the way I like it."
Monday, January 2, 2012
Over the holiday break, I went out to dinner with my family. I mentioned how it will be difficult when we return home because the kids have been off of their schedule for such a long time. They haven't napped. They watch too much television. They haven't crapped for eight days (Better get that plunger ready!).
Then Crazy Gaga commented how I used to watch a lot of television and I turned out just fine (Really? Have you read this blog at all? Have you seen my lab results?). She then rattled off a bunch of television shows that I used to watch.
"Scotty used to watch Mickey Mouse, Bullwinkle, Bugs Bunny, and Yippy Dippy Doo," said Crazy Gaga.
Yippy Dippy Doo? What the hell d'ya think that is?!?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Happy New Year! It seems like only yesterday when the kids were but a figment of my loins. Yet here comes 2012 to usher in another year of fun, frustration, and chronic ulcers.
I decided I would explain the idea of New Year resolutions to Emma and Andrew. It always seems like a good idea at first to explain new concepts to them, but then I always end up stammering and stuttering trying to search for words that they would understand. It's like me explaining to a girl why I wouldn't be disgusting in bed.
After a lengthy explanation of resolutions with as many one syllable words and Jake and the Neverland Pirates references, I hoped they understood my explanation. But all I was met with was confusion and blank stares. Much like the girl after I got her into bed.
I proceeded to use myself as an example and listed some of my resolutions: refinance our mortgage, decide between a will and a trust, and diversify our investments. Once again, more blank stares. So I tried to keep it on their level of sophistication and said, "Fart less." Eureka! They got it!
So here for the first time are Emma's and Andrew's New Year's resolutions!
1. Do more art.
3. Write a book.
4. Play with my dolls more.
1. Play with my cars.
2. Buy more cars.
3. Go poo-poo on Mommy's head.
Although a simple list, at least Andrew can say that he accomplished number three with a fresh number two.