So, we had an enjoyable, but tough weekend up on Squam Lake in New Hampshire this past weekend. Both Steph and I have been feeling slightly under-the-weather. Not bad enough to stay home, but not good enough to be at our most energetic. Now pack all the STUFF you need with 1 year old twins, haul it two hours north, stay in a house that is completely un-child proofed and then sprinkle in 3 other cousins, all under six years old (including another set of twin boys) and you have yourself a casserole of exhaustion. I mean, TOTAL exhaustion! Here’s the cherry on top: one of ours decided to throw up on Sunday morning. Yeah! Like I said, fun, but exhausting.
Here’s the point: today and tonight I’m preparing myself to play hockey and then about 15 minutes before I leave, remember that I broke not one, but TWO hockey sticks in my previous game and I have no sticks. Which means no game. These kind of things never used to slip my mind! Ah, well. Two things will never change: they’re cute and I love ’em.
This is just me futzing around with Photoshop. After I added the effects and really looked at it, it actually made me a little dizzy.
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.
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.