Yes We’re Going To A Party Party

by | Jun 4, 2008 | Alt. Energy

Happy Birthday to quite a few people today – to friends like mogul Rob and Dan, one of nicest and funniest people I know. And of course, happy birthday to my two little twin boys, Nathan and Zachary, who have changed my life in just about every way and who also give me a chance to act like a kid again. What a gift that is.

Someone told Stephanie yesterday “the days are long, but the years fly by.” So true.

Wake Me Up For Meals

by | Jun 2, 2008 | Babies

Steph and I sing to our babies pretty much every day. It’s the usual stuff, you know – Itsy Bitsy Spider, Wheels on the Bus…..all the classics. Usually their reaction is to just rock back-and-forth and smile, a lot. If I have the IPod going in the background, I’ll sing whatever song is on. Yesterday, however, marked the first day one of the boys perked up when the IPod was on shuffle and started doing something as close to dancing as a 1-year-old can do.

The boy was Nathan and for those of you that know us, you know how to describe him. Always moving. A total spaz. Occasional pest and villain of toys to his sweet-natured brother, Zachary. The song, you ask? Warren Zevon’s “Mr. Bad Example.” I said to Steph, “I really hope this isn’t some kind of sign.”

The lyrics:

I started as an alter boy, working at the church
Learning all my holy moves, doing some research
Which led me to a cash box, labeled “Children’s Fund”
I’d leave the change, and tuck the bills inside my cumberbund

I got a part-time job at my father’s carpet store
Laying tackless stripping, and housewives by the score
I loaded up their furniture, and took it to Spokane
And auctioned off every last naugahyde divan

I’m very well aquainted with the seven deadly sins
I keep a busy schedule trying to fit them in
I’m proud to be a glutton, and I don’t have time for sloth
I’m greedy, and I’m angry, and I don’t care who I cross

I’m Mr. Bad Example, intruder in the dirt
I like to have a good time, and I don’t care who gets hurt
I’m Mr. Bad Example, take a look at me
I’ll live to be a hundred, and go down in infamy

Of course I went to law school and took a law degree
And counseled all my clients to plead insanity
Then worked in hair replacement, swindling the bald
Where very few are chosen, and fewer still are called

Then on to Monte Carlo to play chemin de fer
I threw away the fortune I made transplanting hair
I put my last few francs down on a prostitute
Who took me up to her room to perform the flag salute

Whereupon I stole her passport and her wig
And headed for the airport and the midnight flight, you dig?
And fourteen hours later I was down in Adelaide
Looking through the want ads sipping Fosters in the shade

I opened up an agency somewhere down the line
To hire aboriginals to work the opal mines
But I attached their wages and took a whopping cut
And whisked away their workman’s comp and pauperized the lot

I’m Mr. Bad Example, intruder in the dirt
I like to have a good time, and I don’t care who gets hurt
I’m Mr. Bad Example, take a look at me
I’ll live to be a hundred and go down in infamy

I bought a first class ticket on Malaysian Air
And landed in Sri Lanka none the worse for wear
I’m thinking of retiring from all my dirty deals
I’ll see you in the next life, wake me up for meals

Babies Are Gross

by | Jan 22, 2008 | Babies

You always hear about projectile vomiting with children, but until you actually see it, no words really do it justice. One of the, um, joys of having twins is that if one is sick, it is a damn good bet that the other one will be shortly thereafter. This theory was deployed flawlessly here in the house this week. Zachary’s projectile moment came a week ago Friday – I was working, so I missed it. However, this past weekend I had a front row seat for Nathan’s projectile vomit debut – right in his chair as he was being fed – and it was really something. All I can say is that during the gastro episode, it appears as if a small alien has taken over your child’s body. Their face looks more stunned than anything else. When the puking ends, there’s no crying, no tantrum, no befuddled baby. He’s just sitting there, looking around as if what had just happened was no big deal. And it isn’t, because YOU are the one cleaning it up and freaking out.

Look, I used to be a little mortified about the prospect of cleaning up child vomit. Or a very messy diaper. I always thought that if I saw vomit of any kind, I’d follow shortly with my own version of it. But each time something gross happens, I’m stunned to find out that it doesn’t really affect me. Perhaps I’m just too dialed into the health of the kid to really think about how gross it is. Or maybe it’s just less gross than I always thought it was. I’ve always been afraid of puke. Don’t know why. But my suddenly iron stomach is….well…..a pleasant surprise. I mean, I won’t be scouring the internet for disgusting moments or anything, but…….it kind of feels like progress.