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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.