Sunday, January 30, 2011

Duck Tales

We ignored the signs. ...
and fed the ducks anyways.
Although Genevieve probably ate more of the bread then any of the water fowl,
and Karma really wanted to just eat the ducks.
But we still had quiet a day at the pond - and managed to stay out of it as well.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Date Night

For future reference, when it comes to birthdays and holidays, getting movie passes and restaurant gift cards for parents with twin toddlers is cruel. 3 years ago, awesome! Those would have been spent in the days following Christmas. Now there's just a pile on our dinning room table that we've been using as coasters. Well, last night my lovely sister-in-laws agreed to come over and let us use a couple of those coasters (here come the water mark rings now). We set them up with a couple movies, some pizzas and got the girls all but laid down in their cribs then we went out for a night on the town. It's so bad these days that we didn't even know what was out there to see because we only think of new movies arriving on DVD form. ... we'd pretty much forgotten that they play in a theater first. Thankfully there's a gigantic line that you have to stand in that gives you plenty of time to deliberate. The one movie we both agreed would be good to see was Tangled. ... which wasn't playing there. They had the Green Hornet on 5 of the 26 screens though, so that's good. We ended up deciding on 127 hours. ... feel good hit of the winter, I'm told. We then strolled over to El Torito for a couple margaritas and maybe an enchilada or two. Again, we're out of practice with Friday nights on the town so "reservation" never crossed our mind for a chain Mexican restaurant. We ended up sitting at the bar, which worked perfectly because we caught the tail end of happy hour (remember those?) and had margaritas, two wines, 5 tacos and giant plate of nachos for a whopping 28 dollars. ... I think the movie is more expensive. Speaking of the movie, lessons learned: call your mom, take a buddy and never trust a rock. My god was that a horrible thing. As we left I noted to Gina that it was an amazing story and a brilliant film but had it not been a true incident that I remember being in the news a few years back I'd have thought the writers took a lot of liberties with plausibility. Anyway, we got home to find the first movie repeating on the DVD main menu screen, two sisters passed out on the couches and one reading in our room. ... I thought high schoolers were supposed to have more energy. At least I know they're as exhausted as we are come Friday night, and that doesn't make me feel so old.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Geek in the pink

Those that know me know my stance on the color pink. I love it. It's probably my favorite color and I'm a proud advocate of men wearing this color on a regular basis (having daughters suits me pretty well). My theory is that it's unfair to allow women sole custody of the color pink when there is no equivalent for men. Women wear blue; they wear black; they wear red and brown and any other "macho" color you can think of. So by men everywhere refusing to wear pink (and some even refusing purple) we are denying ourselves our god given right to bask in the soft, warm glow of red and white's love child. For the girls baby shower I bought myself an electric pink polo. Not so much hot pink as it was a "power" pink. Gina bought me a pair of pink converse before the girls were born and I rocked them in through their delivery and the entire hospital stay after (I busted them out again for their first birthday). So my point is guys everywhere should not be afraid to don the color. Yesterday was probably the exception. I was wearing said polo and the guys at work gave me the usual ribbing, but it's expected and it gives me a soapbox on which to pitch my point to which they generally have no response (by the way my office has 15 guys and one lone woman so they feel empowered in their pink attacks). At the gym on my lunch break the greeter at the front desk told me she loved the pink, then noted I must be well endowed to wear it so boldly. I took the compliment and then conveyed that a 6'4" 220lb guy rarely receives guff from strangers no matter what color his shirt. So I was feeling pretty good. Until I went to Home Depot. Home Depot is not the place to wear your pink polo. I might as well have been in heels the way I was glared at. My god, men, it's just a color. They're all in sweats from 1972 and shirts that haven't fit them in 15 years, covered in paint and grease, and they're the ones questioning my sense of style?! I don't know why dudes get so rilled up. I once took Gina for her birthday to see Legally Blond the musical up in LA. Rightly so I wore a pink shirt with my black tie and suit. I'm holding the hand of a women 6 months pregnant with twins as we walk down Hollywood Blvd and someone screams a gay slur at me. I swear, guys have some real pent up issues with pink. Anyway, I pick up the lumber I needed and as I get to the cash register I notice a bin with bouquets for sale. It's been a while since I brought home "no reason" flowers, so I pick up some roses. The guy at the register stares at me and, with a smirk asks "are you trying to coordinate?" It's only then that I notice the flowers are the exact same color as my shirt. I tell him "yes, yes I am" and my face suddenly blends with the rest of me. It would have ended there but somehow when I measure I forgot to write down the all important "1" at the beginning of my sequence so I ended up with a 55" piece when I needed a 155" piece. ... just a little off. I returned to the store 3 hours later (changed now in to some manly, bland colored work cloths) and got the same attendant. I tried not to make eye contact, and I didn't think he recognized me, until he let out a "gave up on the pink, huh?" I had nothing. I paid and left. But damn it, I shall don the color again. And some day. ... some day. ... I'll walk the aisles of Home Depot as one pink shirt in a sea of pink clad men. OK maybe not. But that doesn't mean I'll give up hope.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Open mouth, no tongue

Hugs are great, but nothing conveys the sincerity of affection quite like a kiss. The girls have been giving the worlds best hugs for quite a while now, but they've only recently begun to figure out the kissing thing. They blow kisses, they give open mouth slobbery kisses to me and Gina, they kiss the dog and cat, they even kiss each other - although almost half of those magically turn in to bites halfway through the kiss. Now (and apparently this started while Gina and I were in Cancun 2 weeks ago) Genevieve has taken to kissing our pictures. Last night she wandered around the house with a picture of Gina and me from ages ago, repeatedly kissing our image. It was so sweet. She'd kiss my picture, then she'd kiss Gina's. She'd walk a bit and then kiss the picture again taking the time to kiss each of us individually. According to my mother-in-law, while we were away she would be fine until she'd come across a picture of us in someone's house. Then she'd grab the picture, kiss it, put it back and be on her way again. I'm just now witnessing it for myself. This is why people keep having kids. No matter how rough the times may get, a moment like this just melts you all over again.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

That's the dog's toy, and that's not a belly button

I grew up with a lot of animals. You name it and I probably owned it at some point in my youth; and it's now buried in the side yard of my childhood home (note, if you buy a house in Long Beach and go to plant a garden in your new side yard, don't be alarmed by the mass grave - it's mostly hamsters). Because of my experience I think it's extremely beneficial for children to be around animals, and extremely beneficial for animals to be around children as well. But this also brings unexpected conflict at times. For example, the girls (especially Genevieve) think it's hilarious to stick their fingers in other peoples belly buttons. I think we are at fault for turning it into a game of sorts; "where's you're belly button? Now where's Momma's belly button?" But now we're on damage control trying to convince Genevieve that the thing that looks like a belly button just below the cat's tail is not actually a belly button and she should keep her finger out of there. The thing that frightens me the most is the cat doesn't seem to have a problem with the prostrate exam. Then there's the sharing of toys. Dogs (for the dogless out there) are a lot like children, just hairier and a little less slobbery. They have their own beds, their own toys and they throw tantrums too. We've done a pretty good job of keeping Karma off of the girls toys - she's a smart dog and is able to differentiate between what's hers and what's theirs. Now we're trying to teach the girls what's theirs and what's Karma's. ... that's a harder task. Last night they got in to Karma's toy bin (which is hidden behind the couches near the litter box and the cats food). Karma was stressing out, not sure what to do as she sat and watched them go through her treasures. She's a good dog, but you could tell she wasn't happy about it. When we strapped the girls in for dinner Karma then went around the house collecting her stuff - to which Genevieve got mad and a bit of a stare off ensued. As soon as dinner was over we moved straight to baths so the girls kind of forgot about the secret toy bin, but I have a feeling Karam's going to be hiding a few of her favorites today while the rest of us are gone. She may just be a dog, but she's figuring out what it's like to be a big sister.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Cabin Fever

If you follow regularly you may get the impression that my wife and I are insane. It's true. We are. After spending last week in Cancun we came home for a few days, spent one night on our new bed and then packed everybody up and went to the mountains. My step-dad's parents own a cabin in the local mountains and Gina and I have been going there for years. It's a perfect little cabin in a nice quiet, secluded spot, and it's great for getting away to unwind (or "pre-kids" having a crazy party weekend with 15 of our closest friends. ... my how times change). Not only did we take our girls and fat dog, we also borrowed Gina's little sisters and brought them along for the ride. I've been around my sister-in-laws since they were in grade school (and since the youngest was in potty training. ... she made a great first impression on me) so sometimes it feels like they're my own. That statement fluctuates from my own sisters to my own kids. Weird feeling to think of a 16 year old as your own kid, but there's moments where that's how attached to them I feel. For example, the middle one (16) went off on a morning walk by herself on Saturday. About 30 minutes in to it she's not back and Gina's feeling nervous so I start feeling nervous and I spend the next 45 minutes hiking the mountain (in a sleeveless undershirt/35 degrees) looking for her. ... she'd returned home about 5 minutes after I left. I was so in "dad" mode that I even followed a shady looking van that drove by me on the road - by all accounts he's probably a wonderful old grandfather who retired to the mountains to enjoy nature - just to make sure he wasn't unloading a body. ... looked more like take out breakfast from a restaurant in town. ... but I still have my suspicions. Or when we were cleaning the place up before leaving I felt like I should be teaching life lessons of some kind like my father used to do with me - although his life lessons were extremely over zealous and kind of made me think he was slightly derainged. Then there was Rosemarie's Baby. ... yes, the horror movie. The girls wanted to watch a scary movie so Gina (cause we're not about to let them watch a modern gore movie) went and rented this one for the trip. Every scene I'm asking myself "should they be watching this?" And "are they going to have nightmares?" Meanwhile I'm the one who dreams about being impregnated by satan. My (real) girls had a blast, though. My sister-in-laws are young enough that they still get down on the ground and "play" like kids so the girls basically had a three day play date. Can't beat that. We also found a little bit of road side snow that hadn't turned gross in the 2 weeks since the last snow fall and the girls got a chance to slip and slide on that. Arianna kept sitting down because she thought it was a slide (slippery) so she had a cold, wet butt by the end of it. Genevieve just wanted to eat it. It's nice to see a part of Gina and my history (our youthful history) transition in to a part of our daughters history. Just like most things in our life, we are still able to do the same old things, just in a new way. A more exciting way. A more exhausting way. A more magical way.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Houston, we have pigtails

Just getting hair was a huge milestone in our house (I was so bald so long as a kid I earned the nickname Charlie Brown. ... and now it's leaving me already, what's up with that?!) but now we have enough hair to actually do pigtails. ... oh joy of joy. No more "whoville" styled foutain doos for us.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Movin' on up!

It's upgrade time! Finally, we get a new bed today that I can actually fit in! In fact, this one is big enough that we can aaaalllll fit in it - which was kind of the idea. The girls' doctor originally told us that because of the girls' sizes he thought they should move in to toddler beds around 15 months. ... um. ... yeah. Is he going to come over and help with that transition? There is no way that those girls are going to stay in bed once they've figured out they can get out. We're not talking about domestic animals here, we're talking about kids; much more difficult to train. As soon as we lay them down they'll be on the floor and out the door in 1.5 seconds flat. So, while we delay this advice from the doctor in hopes of bed time maturity starting to set in a little more, we're at least getting the bigger bed so when they do come bounding out of theirs and in to ours, there's plenty of room for everybody. If I don't fit in a queen size bed, imagine how well I fit on the couch.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Forget you!

So my wife, consumed by the duties of raising twins, did what daughter-in-laws everywhere have only dreamed of doing; she stranded her mother-in-law yesterday. Let me preface by saying my wife and my mother have an amazingly good relationship, they really do. I know the stereotype is for two women to be at each other's throats for control of the same man but we're fortunate not to suffer that kind of relationship (an equally good relationship exists between me and my mother-in-law). So my mom called Gina up the other day to ask her for a ride to the airport; she's heading to one of her offices out of state. Gina, being the wonderful person that she is, happily agreed, despite my mom's concerns that Gina is so busy with the girls and it might be an imposition. Gina assured her that it was not a problem at all. My mom requested a pick up time of 12:30 and a drop off at the regional airport the next city over. This is where I failed. I didn't adequately warn Gina about my mother when I heard she was taking her. My mom is a very busy women. Her job title alone will describe exactly how much she does in the course of a day (CFO/VP of Operations/HR Director/IT/Facilities. ... and that's for 150+ employees covering two states in a very large company). Given her hectic day, the last thing my mom will do (even on vacations, it's kind of an ingrained mental thing) is sit around waiting for something. When I was a kid I used to go on walks with her when she'd get home from work at night. It was a way for her to unwind; she'd vent to me, and I'd listen attentively feeling like I was fulfilling the man of the house duties. But, if I'd stop to tie my shoe or something, she'd just keep walking and it was on me to run and catch up to her; it's just her personality. She doesn't stand still, even for an 8 year old. So, needless to say, she doesn't wait in airports either. ... ever - that's what I'm getting at. I've stood next to her, sweat beading down my forehead after running through a terminal carrying suitcases filled with rocks, as she asks the gate attendant to make the plane come back from the runway and pick us up. That's how you start a vacation? I forgot to give Gina this little detail. So when she says pick her up at 12:30, it's probably for a 1 o'clock flight - you need to get there at 12:00 and force her in to the car for her own good. Well, Gina was sitting the girls down to lunch after playing all morning when she looked at the clock and read 12:45. ... flight of the bumble bee commence. She's talking to me on the cell phone, frantically trying to get to my parents house, stressed beyond belief about forgetting my mom and I tell her 1) don't stress, she's not making that flight anyway and 2) she deserves this. Gina showed up to my mother on the doorstep, bags in hand; they literally flew to the airport and arrived at 1:15 (flight turned out to be at 1:20). I got a text from my mom at 1:35: "sitting down to a margarita and a book - next flight at 5:30 - forced vacation". Gina felt awful, I felt somewhat satisfied. Needless to say, when I offered to have them pick her up from the airport after her return flight, my mother texted "I'll walk". That was at 7:30pm. She just landed. Disgruntled daughter-in-laws everywhere gave a collective cheer.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

War of the Words, Part I

So it looks like we called it. Back when they were little blobs we both had the feeling that Arianna would be the first to master mobility, but Genevieve would be the first to master language (Arianna being the restless one and Genevieve constantly making noises). Come home to find out that Genevieve has added two more words to her vocabulary: ball and gala (the Greek word for milk). So she now has an extensive dictionary of words. ... all 6 of them; quack, caltza (Greek for sock), dadda, momma and now ball and gala. Granted two are in Greek and the mommma and dadda are just assumed because she tends to say "mommammammaa" and "daddaddada", but we know they're meant for us. Arianna's got the momma's and the dadda's down too, but the rest of the words aren't flowing like Genevieve - although she knows what they are if you say them to her. It's pretty good that the girls aren't showing any signs of being slowed up by the dual languages either. Although Genevieve says gala and caltza, she still knows them as milk and sock as well. Same goes for eyes, nose, dog, cat and chicken (mati, miti, skilo, gata and cota). I think they know even more too, because Gina uses a lot more Greek than that and her Grandma pretty much only uses Greek with the girls. ... those are just the words that I'm multilingual in. ... I'm a slow learner. So I suppose that means if there's a party in last place in this little war of the words it'd be me. Stupid Dad. ... only operating in one language. What a malaka! See, I know swear words too!

Monday, January 17, 2011

Trading paradise for my own personal heavan

Finally back. Finally away from that god awful place full of open bars and all you can eat food, smiling people begging to assist you, meals with out high chairs and evenings with out bedtime's framed in the most gorgeous beach I've ever seen. What a nightmare. I will say it wasn't as rough being away from the girls as I had originally expected but it was still pretty difficult none the less (which my cell phone bill will surely point out in the roaming charges I accrued calling in to check on naps, bath times and pooping regularity). We missed the return flight we were hoping to get on - my father-in-law is a pilot so we fly free but we have to fly standby and take what ever seat is available just before departure, which can be everything from first class to waving through the glass as the plane leaves with out you - and had to take a later flight through Chicago which put us home around 10pm, so we missed seeing the girls before they went to bed. When we missed the flight Gina started tearing up a the thought of missing one more bed time, but it worked out pretty good as the girls were thrilled to see us this morning. Now it's back to reality though - everyone has snotty noses and Genevieve's got this charming little rash up her back. That's OK; paradise is wonderful, but it lacked two main ingredients, and I'm glad to have them back in arms.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Sun and Fun with an 80% Chance of Remorse

First of all, despite the solemn tone of the last post, we hit the 200 blog mark yesterday. Thank you to all of you readers who have stuck around so long. I would write this blog regardless but it's nice to know there are so many of you out there that enjoy following along with us. And now to the post. Tomorrow night Gina and I are off to a warmer climate (which is tough when you live in Southern California). Gina's best friend (and the maid of honor at our own wedding) is tying the knot in Cancun, Mexico and, unfortunately, it's not a kid friendly resort (not that there's a chance in hell I'd cart my 1 year olds to Mexico at this point in history). So the grandma's are splitting up the week and will get to enjoy some alone time with the girls. This is the first time we've both been away at the same time (and the first time I've been away overnight) so there is bound to be a lot of anxiety and remorse on our end. I've already loaded Skype on all the computers and have the addresses programed in to my iPad (and I checked with the hotel on the WiFi situation) so we can at least call in and see their smiling faces from time to time, but I already know it's going to be murder. Think about that. An all inclusive resort in Cancun, Mexico (mid 80's in January) and I'm describing it as murder. ... only a parent. The worst part is there is nothing for me to really worry about. We're talking about two overly qualified mothers, raising a combined 7 children among them; I think they can handle a couple of 15 month olds for 5 days. I feel kind of like the rookie quarterback who gets injured and asks the 15 year veteran with 9 pro-bowls and a Superbowl MVP under his belt if he can handle running the team in my absence. ... for non-sports people that equals "ridiculous". Non the less, after we tuck them in tomorrow night and head to the airport to catch our red-eye, there's going to be a rock in my stomach and it'll have nothing to do with flying (or drinking the water in Mexico). ... it'll be child-sickness. The feeling only a parent can get from not being within arm reach of their child. I get it every day when I leave in the morning for work. Only this time I'm not a 30 minute drive away. ... I'm 6 hour flight and 3 time zones. ... I need a margarita just thinking about it. But I will soldier on. I will do my best to enjoy 5 days in paradise; sleeping in, drinking and eating with out policing someone elses meal or avoiding the splash zone around a high chair that I had to search the far reaches of Middle Earth for, not tip-toeing around after 7pm, using swear words with out worrying about little ears hearing, lying still with out being used as a trampoline, and holding my wife's hand for more than 30 seconds with out having to catch a falling breakable or restrain an eager toddler from running in to a "restricted zone". ... on second thought. ... when's that flight?

Sunday, January 9, 2011

The scraps to our children.

I sat down to blog yesterday, some nonsense about a new purse for Gina and Genevieve's first "time out". I had wit and charm to spare and was ready for my regular silliness. But as the computer loaded up
the story of Rep. Gifford bled across my screen and I found myself with little thought but the tragedy that's taken place. Part of it because Tucson is where Gina's dad lives and we were just there a few weeks ago, part of it because it's a stark reminder that the world my girls have come to life in is not all unicorns and roses - it's just as mean and nasty as it's ever been. I'm a strong believer in what I believe (which I try to keep to myself as often as possible) and to think that someone would shoot me in the head simply based on those beliefs is horrid, it's disturbing. ... it's familiar. We (as a country) spend our time with puffed out chests trying to tell the rest of the world how to behave; to tolerate others who eat, pray and love differently. And here we are manifesting the same actions as they; proving that we really aren't that much better then them; taking away our credibility as as the shining light. We detest the image of the corrupt cop. The man arresting drug dealers while he deals on the side. Are we much different than that? We condemn foreign countries that burn our flag and we call them barbarians, yet we have citizens who burn our own president in effigy. We call "horror" and "sham" upon religious fanatics that bomb their fellow countrymen who do not feel the same, yet we have snipers and bombers targeting abortion doctors and crowds with sharpened pitchforks ready to storm their neighborhood mosques. We say "this country is backwards" as they assassinate their leaders who passed laws they don't agree with, and now we've just done the same. It's a bit bold to claim "we" as, by all accounts, it was an individual effort. But his thoughts were not his own. His examples were not imagined. We turn on the TV and hear pundits rage and figureheads scream, even ignorant politicians out for their own agenda hint at such actions through images and tweets. I'm proud to have been born in this country and I still consider it great, but I lament that it is not the Camelot we sometimes hold it out to be, and I worry about what it will become when my daughters and their peers inherit from us. Looking to history it's events such as this that work as a turning point. ... so which direction do we turn? That is the concern of the day. This act will prove as inspiration. ... but to whom?

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Couch Potato

Yet another reminder that literally overnight my little girls are becoming all grown up. We finished up dinner last night, after Gina left to teach, and we were playing in the living room. The girls were getting in to one of those "we need a change of scenery" moods so I left to draw the bath. As usual Arianna was right on my heels overly eager to put the bath toys in the water (I made it a game, just before they get in the tub, to throw each toy in to the water one by one and make it splash, they love that game). Genevieve didn't follow shortly after as she usually does so I popped my head out to check on her. There she was, in the living room, sitting on the couch all by herself. I didn't put her up there. There was nothing near by that she could have climbed up, so it's obvious she got up there on her own - and she looked pretty natural so I figured I would allow her the opportunity to get down on her own too. She's kind of oafy so I had a knot in my gut that she was going to stage dive off or end up in a double back flip with a side kick McTwist, but I was hoping she would just call for my assistance when she needed it. Nope. About 20 seconds later she comes tottering around the corner and into the bathroom to join us. My little girls are so big. They can get up on the couch and down from it all with out my help. What good am I now? This is one of only three things I really provided: support for getting on top of things. Now all I've got to offer are food and shelter, and I'm pretty sure those are at the bottom of their importance charts; just above a new diaper and bed time. They tell you it goes fast, but I was thinking Ferrari/Lamborghini fast. ... this is like space shuttle re-entry to earth fast. The kind that pushes the loose skin on your face back against the wall behind you and gives you a 5 day 'fro. And just so you know, for those followers who don't know me personally and are thinking "this guy blogs far too often" let me tell you, I could blog a lot more. That's how quickly my world is spinning with these two in it. And for those followers who do know me personally, you're welcome; you know how I can be when it comes to words and over using them. The only way to shut me up is to walk away. Hey! Where are you going?!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

At Ease Soldier


I can't tell you where this came from but I can tell you it started while we were in Arizona over the holidays. Ever since then Geneveive has taken to walking around with her arms behind her back, similar to a soldier at ease. It's kind of odd only because it started in Arizona when we were staying with Gina's dad who was a Marine fighter pilot - so I don't know if she saw him doing it and copied or if it was just transferred through osmosis. ... no clue. But it's pretty much all the time now. I've already had the conversation with her that she can't enlist until after college; want to make sure she's an officer if that's the path she chooses. The good thing about this is it's reduced her hitting people. You might say it's because she has her hands tied behind her back. ... (sigh) this kind of stuff goes on in my head all day long. Pity me.

This Bites!

I don't know if we've just accumulated more teeth or if we're getting over confident in using them, but it seems we can't eat a meal these days with out someone biting their lip, finger or neighbor. At dinner last night Arianna did it twice and Genevieve did it once, they both did it at lunch earlier in the day and then during bath time Genevieve bit Arianna's finger (granted Arianna put it in her mouth and kind of asked to be bit). I don't know what the deal is. Most of the biting of other people has been quelled - we've gotten it to the point where 9 times out of 10 they'll go for the bite, realized their going to get in trouble, and turn it into a sloppy open mouthed kiss (eyes of course glued on Gina or I to make sure we see that this is not a bite, but a kiss). We try to make teeth very important in our house and have instilled teeth brushing regiments twice a day for the last several months (the girls actually want to brush more often and for longer, which can only be a good thing), but what good is a shiny tooth if you don't know how to use it - that's how tools become weapons (same way it worked in the evolution of man: monkey used and object as a tool and became human; human used tool as a weapon and became a jerk). So that's where we are at right now; every meal is a little tense waiting for someone to take a bite out of themselves. ... it's a learning curve I suppose. On another note we met a Grainger yesterday. My parents got a new dog (I didn't go in to this at the time but their 80lb Samoyed Dakota died on the morning of Christmas Eve while we were in Arizona after getting a hold of some dark chocolate - vet said he'd never seen a dog that size actually go down from chocolate but the dark form has a chemical called theobromine and that is toxic to dogs). So we met Grainger the 3 month old Great Pyrenees, who is already the size of fat dog, and of whom fat dog is somewhat warry - she doesn't really like puppies and and especially doesn't like new puppies. He was very sweet, though, and I think he'll be good fit in that house - plus he's super fluffy so the girls were having a hay day snuggling against him. Very nice disposition for a puppy, just pretty mellow and sweet - not unlike Dakota was. Also have one final story from yesterday for you (had they day off work, we were busy, sue me): went to tuck the girls in last night and after covering Arianna I went to turn the night light off while Gina covered Genevieve. As I pushed it down to turn it off, it made this click sound at just the right frequency so Arianna jumped awake. Gina hit the floor and pretended to be a rock at the base of Arianna's crib, I dove behind Genevieve's crib but mid flight realized I wasn't going to fit all the way. So I was on my hands and knees, head tucked and butt fully exposed to the center of the room. I suddenly felt a draft and realized my pajama bottoms (superman of course) had slipped a bit. So basically my daughter stood in her crib and cried as her father mooned her from across the room. Something tells me that comes up in a therapy session around age 19.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Monkeys go bed hopping

It's finally time. Finally time to acknowledge the fact that a queen bed is too small for my 6'3" self, let alone with Gina in it. We've made it work for 6 years now but that's only because my feet hang off and I tuck a sheet under me and allow myself to hang off the edge like a hammock. This might be part of our dogs paranoia problem since she sleeps on the floor next to me and has to worry all night if tonight is the one I come crashing down on top of her. But with the girls getting bigger and bigger and the obvious fact that they'll soon find their ways under our covers in the near future it's time to graduate to a king. So, with nothing else to do on a rainy So Cal day we went test driving, or, test sleeping I guess. Our plan is to buy it online after I've completed a full make over on our room (Gina's never forgiven me for the "Tuscan Sunset" color I painted when we moved in that turned out more of a "Macaroni and Cheese Dinner" shade of orange), but we still want to make sure we physically try some out before we blindly purchase and then find we hate it. It's been a long time since I've done this and it has. .... um. ... changed a bit. Now you lay down on a machine that looks like a bed (the most uncomfortable mattress in the store) and it decides what bed is right for you; kind of like that crazy hat in the Harry Potter movies. I was blue (obviously the cool one) and Gina was yellow. I'm not really sure what it means other than we probably should get a bed that's green since that's a mix of both. So we tried out several beds that matched our reading and the girls ran around like banshees - kind of nice because everything in the store is soft so there was no harm that could be done. Then we all climbed on to the few that we liked and tried reality out for a moment. I now have a suspicion that it doesn't matter how big a bed we get, it's going to get tight. ... and they're still going to jump on it.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Happy New Year

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,For auld lang syne,We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne

We twa hae run aboot the braes, And pou'd the gowans fine; we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin' auld lang syne

We two hae paidled i' the burn, Frae mornin' sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin' auld lang syne

And here's a hand, my trusty friend, And gie's a hand o' thine; We'll take a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne