Day 1064 - Conversations with Andrew - REVISED

Okay...a little time has passed and I need to continue this story.

When Lisa came home from work, she was surprised to see Andrew awake. I told her that Andrew refused to take a nap.

"Andrew," Lisa asked. "How come you didn't take a nap?"

"Because," Andrew answered. "I missed you, Mommy."

Son of a bitch...

Day 1062 - Bedside Mismanners

I'm a pretty good sleeper. I fall asleep fairly fast and usually get seven to eight hours of sleep. I attribute my youthful looks to my sleep habits as well as my bi-monthly skin peels and bi-annual brow lifts. Sadly, something has disturbed my peaceful slumber.

It was the middle of the night, and I woke up. It's unusual when I wake up because it means one of two things: 1) Lisa woke up to go pee or 2) I got a booty call. This night it was neither. I struggled to fall back asleep, but I kept on hearing an intermittent squeak. I attributed the squeak to us being in a new house and not knowing the sounds it makes at night. Either that or I actually did get a booty call, and my booty was growing impatient.

I decided to grab my glasses to see what time it was, but as I turned around in bed I was startled to see Andrew next to me. He scared the hell out of me! My masculine survival instincts almost kicked in because I was about to throw Lisa in front of me for protection.

I told Andrew that he needed to stay in his bed and guided him back to his room. He quickly went back to sleep, but not me! Every little squeak and creek I heard made me turn around to see if Andrew was at the doorway. It's amazing how a little three year old could create so much anxiety in me. It's also amazing that I was once beat up by a nine year old girl.

Over the past week, Andrew has occasionally crept into our bedroom whining for attention and comfort. We don't want this to become a habit with Andrew, so we just silently guide him back to bed and leave him alone even if he continues to whine and cry. I figure if the worst thing he's going to say at night is "Mommmmmy" or "Daddddddy", then we should be okay until this phase ends. I'm just glad that he's not saying anything else like "Redrum" or "Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world."

That would really cut down on my sleep...

Day 1061 - Poll Results & New Poll

Last week I asked if there was a difference between sitting and standing when potty training Andrew. Fifty-five percent of you said that we should begin teaching Andrew how to pee by sitting down. And then thirty-three percent very observant and astute observers suggested we have Andrew pee with his penis...as opposed to his ass?

We agree that we will continue Andrew's potty training with him sitting down. Although he still is not as interested with the potty training as Emma, he is doing much better with telling us when his diaper has something inside it (i.e. pee, poop, hidden food and/or toys). We hope within the next month or so we will have both kids potty trained. And if not the kids, Lisa really hopes she'll have me trained at the very least.

**********

The torch has been passed again. Lisa is going back to work, and I am going to stay home with the kids. There are quite a few of my friends who envy me. They tell me how lucky I don't have to go to work, and instead I'm able to stay home all day with the kids. Let me tell you a little secret: IT'S STILL WORK! I don't know how many of you have been able to experience the difference between going to work and staying at home with the kids, but I find it much more exhausting being at home. Plus, I'm able to drink heavy amounts of alcohol at work, but social services frowns upon that when you're watching over kids.

What do you think? Is it more tiring going to work or staying at home with your kids?

Day 1060 - Toddler Beds: A Look Back

In mid-July, we transitioned the kids into toddler beds. We figured the combination of the kids climbing out of the cribs and the impending move to our new place was enough to warrant the new beds. Two months have passed, and although the kids are perfectly fine sleeping in the beds, it was one hell of a transition and screwed up their nap time for a very long time.

Instead of going into a long description of what has happened over the past few months, it will be easier to explain it with pictures.

Lisa and I expected in the beginning that the kids would not want to settle down for a nap because of their new beds. Think of giving a prison inmate a cell without bars, but double it and replace violent tendencies with unfettered curiosity. That's what we had for almost a full month.

At first, the kids would just get out of bed and play around. All pretty harmless, but annoying and tiring to a parent who really just wants thirty minutes of rest. And by rest I mean quality PS3 gaming time. But Emma started to go through all of the clothes in the dresser and made a gigantic mess in the room.

I think this picture looks like a promo shot for a Nick Jr. version of Hoarders.

I fooled around with the idea that maybe the kids were getting to the age where they would not need a nap anymore. But the kids were so grouchy and tired for the last few hours of the day that we knew they still needed a nap. It even got to the point where Andrew would fall asleep while eating dinner.

"Shh...I'm not asleep. I just don't want to eat this crappy food."

As the days turned into weeks, we were getting afraid that the kids were creating a routine by themselves: a routine of destruction and mayhem. We tried to calm them down as much as possible, but they found their new found freedom more interesting than napping. Soon enough, Andrew followed Emma's lead with the clothes.


If you notice the picture above, Andrew has no pants on and Emma only has her diaper on. For some odd reason, nap time not only become throw-all-of-the-clothes-out-of-the-drawer, but it also became take-all-of-our-clothes-off. When asked, the kids usually responded that they were pretending to change each other's diaper.

But pretending to change their diapers led to something even more weird and disconcerting. They got the idea that if they took all of the pillows off the love seat, then it could become a pretend toilet. Pretty soon, we had half-naked kids climbing on top of the Ikea love seat pretending to go poop and pee.

There's no need to use an Ikea Allen wrench to go poop and pee on the sofa.

But the worst thing that happened occurred around the first week of August. After an hour of talking, Emma and Andrew finally settled down and became quiet. Lisa and I thought this was going to be one of those rare days when the kids did take a nap. When it became around 4pm, Lisa decided it was time to wake them up. All I needed to hear was Lisa's reaction to know something went terribly wrong. It went a little something like this...

"...oh no..."

"OH no."

"No no no!"

"OH NO NO NO!"

"SCOTT OH NO NO NO SCOTT!"

It took awhile, but I knew something was not right.

When I walked into their bedroom, it took me a few moments to realize what happened. First of all, they were naked. Secondly, their hair and body looked all soapy. Thirdly, the entire room shined. What happened was that they grabbed an entire Costco jar of Aquaphor (it's like Vaseline) and emptied it on their hair, body, and basically the entire room. It was on the bed, all four walls, the window, the rug, and their dolls.



Literally, it took us four hours to clean everything up. Lisa gave the kids a bath, and I started doing the first of five loads of laundry while scrubbing the walls with 4-09. For that entire day, Lisa and I were so upset and angry. The kids knew they did something wrong because Emma said she should not play with Aquaphor again, and Andrew said, "I did a baaaaaaaad thing!"

It took almost a week for Emma's and Andrew's hair to look normal again. Here are a few pictures of the kids a day or two after the initial Aquaphor disaster.


Admittedly and obviously, parenting is not easy. But things always come and go in phases. You'll have your good days, and you'll have your Aquaphor days. Yet collectively, it's always and absolutely worth it at the end of each day.

Day 1059 - Guilty As Charged

One of the many bedtime rituals we do with the kids is play with a flashlight. We'll make shadow puppets and the kids love to chase the light across the room. We used to use black light, but it just became disturbing and made us realize there's more poop in the room than just in their diapers.

The last thing the kids get to do with the flashlight is play with it by themselves. We give them a minute or so to do whatever they want to do with it. A popular choice is doing shadow puppets; the most popular puppet is indeterminable fist and finger animal.

On this night, something unfortunate happened. When Emma did not want to share the flashlight with Andrew, she became angry and threw the flashlight on the floor. The more unfortunate thing was that I was lying on the floor so the flashlight smacked my head. Thankfully, we don't have the kids play with a big ass Maglite, but never the less, it hurt the only part of my head that is attractive: my forehead.

As I masked what I really wanted to say with a long and pronounced "Shoooooooot!", Emma froze. When Lisa told her she hurt Daddy and she should apologize, Emma made a quick dash to her bed and buried her head in her pillow. You need to understand that we've never seen Emma display this kind of guilt and hurt before. The only time we see her bury her head in her pillow is when I accidentally let go of one in the bedroom.

I went to Emma and told her I was okay, but I may have to get an MRI later on; I'm a hypochondriac. After explaining why it was important not to throw things, I asked her if she had something to say to me. Nothing but silence. As I became frustrated, I turned her over in bed. And when she had eye contact with me, she burst into tears! Not only did I get drenched in parental guilt, but horrid flashbacks of college blind dates hit me too.

Obviously I comforted Emma and told her she didn't have to cry and feel bad -- although she really should feel bad because she hit my head with a damn flashlight. But this entire incident made me realize how increasingly complex our kids' minds are becoming. This whole transition from baby to toddler is difficult for both child and parent. And as a parent of twins, you're always trying to figure out whether you're being attentive to the particular needs of each child.

As the night came to a close, we gave our good night hugs and kisses to Emma and Andrew. Before I could leave Emma's bed, she said, "Daddy. I won't throw the flashlight again." And I bent over to give her one more kiss and then whispered in her ear, "You're damn right you're not going to throw that damn flashlight again."

Day 1058 - Picture Friday: Sacramento Edition

Undefeated Crazy Grandma receives 1st Place, Emma 2nd, Andrew 3rd, and Lazy Grandpa doesn't even place in the 4th Annual Fart in Grandma & Grandpa's Bed Contest.

"Crap...I got to get into the slow lane!"

Great-Grandma thinks, "How precious she is."
Emma thinks, "Dammmmn girl! How old ARE you?"

"You know the saying, 'Human see, human do.'"

The mere touch of Grandpa makes people lazy.

Have a great weekend!

Day 1057 - Proud Child

Now that the kids are talking quite a bit, it is quite fascinating to hear what they want to communicate with their limited vocabulary. Talking to a toddler is similar to talking to a drunk (or Lisa two hours after she comes home from work): you have to decipher a series of slurred words, be patient with stuttering, and put up with the rancid smell. But if you can be patient enough, sometimes what your child can say can warm your heart.

The other day, we were putting the kids down for a nap. Emma and Andrew wanted me to stay in the room longer, but I told them I had to go do a poopy so I would check on them later. As I turned the last page of the unabridged version of Les Miserables, I proceeded to wipe and flush; it's a horrible day when I reverse the two. After talking to Lisa for a bit, I decided to do a few errands while the kids were resting. It was only then when I realized I never checked on them.

Since the kids were still talking, I entered the room and told them to please lie down and try to take a nap or else our psychiatrist will put Mommy and Daddy back on meds. Immediately, Emma said with consternation, "You said you were going to check on us when you go poop!"

I couldn't believe Emma was pissed at me! I told her, "Daddy just finished going poop so that's why I'm here with you now."

Emma looked me over once and began clapping. Not a sarcastic clap like you do when your wife spills hot oil on a child, but a clap that is created by happiness. Emma was sincerely happy that I pooped and remembered to check on her.

To cap it all off, Emma ended this celebration by saying, "Daddy, you are a big boy now. We are soooo proud of you!"

I didn't know what to say after that, but I knew from that moment on that the kids must never see me accidentally poop on the sofa again.