Pic of the Week

"Simple Things"

Just the Bad Kopp. ... Good Kopp has the Night Off

Ugh. ... for the record, any post that begins with a grunt is not going to be good.  I hit my wall of frustration last night. ... doing 75 and with out my seat belt on. ... and it hurt.  It was Gina's last week night yoga class before taking some well deserved baby leave and I am so grateful.  We've suddenly pulled in to the "two year old" pit stop and reinforcements are needed to survive things like bed time.  I don't want to call it the terrible two's because it's not.  There's nothing "terrible" about them. ... it's more like the "less than ideal behavior at moments" two's. ... the LTIBM's. ... no. ... that's not going to stick. ... I'll think of something better.  The last week or so they've just been wound up, their attention span is like that of a hummingbird and their listening. ... well. ... they might as well be brick wall because that's what I feel like I'm talking to some times.  They're also pulling the potty card like crazy. ... but only when it's supposed to be bed time.  As soon as that last night time story book closes it's "Daddy kahka."  You're familiar with the little boy that cried wolf?  Well, they're not.  Of course, I'm not going to risk the accident so off we trot to the bathroom.  After 5 minutes if no one has gone (and sometimes they do - in fact, usually at least one of them will do something to justify the trip) we close up shop and head back to bed.  Of course, right when we cross the threshold of the room it's "Daddy, kahka again." ... this is where you start placing your bets.  Is she telling the truth or bluffing.  If she's bluffing I've got to deal with crying and fighting. ... if she's not I get the same result plus I have to clean up shit.  So last night, I gave them the benefit of the doubt.  And the wolf failed to show.  So we redressed and headed back.  Then I got the "where's Momma" card.  Nearly every Monday and Wednesday night since the day they were born she's been teaching so it's not like Daddy solo is something new.  "Momma's at yoga honey, you'll see her in the morning."  "No yoga Daddy, Momma home!"  "Not tonight sweetheart; you need to go to sleep and you'll see her tomorrow."  Then Genevieve jumps out of bed and runs out of the room screaming "Me go yoga, me go yoga!"  I chase her down and in the process Arianna starts screaming from her bed "Me kahka again Daddy, me kahka again, please!"  Now, if they add a "please" to the request it's usually for real so I take her (and Genevieve by default).  10 minutes go by and not one drop, fart or even grunt.  I'm really steaming by now.   They are obviously just pulling this card to get out of bed and I'm not having any more of it.  I cart them back to their room where they start wailing as soon as they're in their beds.  I'm not supposed to be the mean guy.  I'm not supposed to be the one who threatens the illusive "dada's" but there I am, making empty threats that I know I won't keep just hoping they'll bite and settle down.  Of course it didn't help and a lot of it has to do with the fact that they were a little sick. ... at one point Genevieve, eyes weeping like Victoria Falls, tried to hiccup and scream at the same time and all that came out was a snot bubble the size of a baseball.  Her eyes crossed together and widened in alarm as she looked down at it sprouting out of her nose.  So then we were at the sink trying to calm her down with a wet rag and clean it all up.  Let me just jump through to the end (two more potty trips later) where I clicked on their light and made them look at each other.  "Does Sissie look like a good girl right now?!" I demanded.  Genevieve shook her head.  "How about your Sissie, does she look like a good girl right now?!"  Arianna stuttered a "no".  "Well you are both good girls, and it's time you started acting like it."  With that I snapped of the light and left the room.  A few whimpers persisted but with in 10 minutes they were both based out (and neither one had moved when we did our final tuck in around 11) and I felt horrible.  I don't like feeling angry with them.  I don't mind frustration, but when frustration boils over to angry. ... I feel like I become my father - the one person in the world I want most never to be like.  So I basically moped around till bed time and now have to wait the rest of the work day until I can see them and hug them and kiss them and do all of the things that I should have been able to do at bed time last night.  Parenting is hard. ... and we're going to add one more to this bag of mixed nuts?!  Ugh.

Patience is a Virtue. ... and a Pain in the Ass

Surprise, surprise; Rosaline is just like the other two.  Seems she is quite comfortable in her mommy's tummy and in no real rush to go anywhere.  You'll recall the girls made it to 38 weeks before the doctor said enough and even then Genevieve took some prying to get out.  I recall making the mistake of looking over the partition (pay no attention to that man behind the curtain) and saw the doctor up to her bicep in my wife trying to pull Genevieve out of Gina's lungs.  So after yesterday's check up it seems there's plenty of fluid, no dilation and no reason to believe she's coming earlier then anticipated. ... which is kind of annoying.  You see, I'm not good at waiting for things. ... especially as it get's closer and closer to the projected eta.  If I'm going to add a third kid, I want it now. ... why wait another 3 weeks?!  For the record. ... Gina is more than happy to wait.  I'm on my own in this impatient state.  Of course, here we are trying to be parents and what's one of the top five things your trying to teach a toddler (obviously going number one and number two are number one and number two respectively): Patience.  Oh the irony in parenting.  The things we try and teach are some times our own most glaring short comings.  The parents who teach "no hitting" by spanking the kids that do.  The obese parent who makes their kids eat vegetables.  Similarly the obese parent who makes their kids play sports/compete in beauty pageants and yell at them for not putting in enough effort.  On a tangent, why is it always the hideous women in a faded Joe's Crab Shack t-shirt with high water sweat pants who's yelling at her tiara'd toddler that she needs to be sexier?  Then there's the parents who swear out their kids for bad language, the ones who don't let their kids date but maintain extramarital affairs and the ones who decry drug use but have a "secret" drawer that nobody everybody knows about.  And there's my personal favorite - the ones who preach to their kids that being gay or black or Muslim is a travesty and an abomination. ...and yet their marriage is failing because of unfaithfulness, they embody every host of their own negative stereotypes and they haven't seen the inside of a church or synagogue since puberty.  I'm sorry. ... that was a world class tangent right there.  Let's real it back in, shall we?  I'm not perfect.  I'm not the perfect husband, the perfect father or even the perfect Brethren High School Men's Volleyball captain of the 2000 season.  But I try.  So while I teach my two daughters virtues like patience (if we sit quietly and wait quietly for Momma's appointment, we'll get a lollipop at the end) I am going to work on my own flawed virtues. ... starting with patience.  So this is me waiting quietly for my next bundle of joy to arrive. ... and it's really, really hard to do.

The Broccoli Differential

They slew of questions brought on by twin little girls never ceases to amaze; but among the more commonly asked is "are they different?"  Well obviously they are.  Are you and your sister different?  Of course.  These sisters just happen to share a birthday. ... and that's pretty much where the list of things in common stops.  Genevieve cries when she's upset, Arianna screams.  Arianna leans on caution (handrails on the stairs and such) Genevieve is a head down and charge at the problem type of kid. ... she doesn't so much descend stairs as she falls and manages to land upright.  Genevieve's favorite animal is a horse, Arianna likes ducks.  Arianna prefers ice cream in a bowl. ... Genevieve takes it on a cone.  But last night I noticed one of the more unusual differences.  You see, it's taken quite a while to convince Genevieve to eat her broccoli with out World War 3 breaking out.  I used to have to stick it in her mouth and wait for it to naturally dissolve via saliva over the course of weeks and months. ... no easy task.  The problem with this is broccoli is not going anywhere.  We are a vegetable heavy type of a household.  Their mom is a yoga instructor for crying out loud. ... you think veggies are going anywhere?!  Don't hold your breath (she tried that too).  So she finally is eating them and even saying that she likes them, which I kind of think is her trying to convince her own self, so I'll take the crazy that comes with it.  You see. ... she doesn't like the leafy part.  Which is really odd only because Arianna doesn't like the stock.  So I've got one kid who eats the top and hands me the stock and the other that makes me cut the top off so she can eat the stock. ... basically it takes two kids to eat one broccoli.  I'm not going to complain, I'm thrilled they're eating it.  And it's not important which part since both have the same nutritional value (although there might even be more in the stock which is good because Genevieve still eats less then Arianna who is a veggie monster much like her parents).  But there you have it.  The differences in my children summed up in one leafy, green vegetable.  They're polar opposites.

One - ah ah ah; Two - ah, ah, ah, Three - ah, ah, ah

The blossoming of a toddlers mind is a brilliant experience to behold.  It's hard to fathom the days when they lay on their backs just staring in wide eyed wonder at me.  Now they seem to explain the world to me as seasoned experts.  The leaf comes from the tree.  The bigger cat is the momma cat.  When you fart in the bathtub that makes a jacuzzi.  The most fantastic jump, however, has been in their problem solving and comprehension skills.  If you missed the tie in from the title of today's post, it's The Count from Sesame Street - who the girls have taken to imitating in the car. ... it makes me laugh every time.  "One - ah, ah, ah; Two - ah, ah, ah".  When he does it I get frustrated that he's simply an undiagnosed, purple OCD sufferer. ... but when they do it it's undeniably cute.  Anyway, Gina and her mom had a jewelry boutique at the house this weekend, so the 4 trouble makers (the girls, Karma and myself) had to make scarce for most of the days.  On Saturday we went to my moms to hang out, although my mom was at Lowes' from 10am to 7pm redesigning her kitchen so we never actually saw her, so we chilled with my sister and my aunt.  Both of them being teachers (my sister an 8th grade English teacher and my aunt a retired 2nd grade teach for some 40 years or so) it peaks my curiosity to hear their opinions of the girls' development.  You see, I'm the kind of guy who needs verbal reassurance.  Constantly.  I'm basically a needy, unconfidant pain in the ass.  It spills over to my girls as well.  I feel they're brilliant, beautiful, wonderfully behaved little angels - but I start to wonder if I just have rose colored glasses and the rest of the world disagrees.  So having two teachers - albeit close relatives who would never say anything to hurt my feelings so if they felt differently they'd never tell me - reassure me was very. ... reassuring?.  After dinner we went for a walk to look at the Christmas lights in the neighborhood and I was having the girls show off their letters: we can recognize "A" for Arianna, "G" for Genevieve, "K" for Karma, "D" for Daddy and, of course, "M" for Momma.  And we were practicing our counting (to five by ourselves and to 10 with a little support).  After I had Arianna count the reindeer on one of the lawns (there were four) my aunt turns to me and tells me that she has Kindergartners in the class she volunteers for (by the way, sign of a good teacher is the one who retires and still volunteers to teach everyday) that still have trouble recognizing the first letter in their name.  That being able to count objects (rather than just numbers) is extremely impressive for 2, and that my childrens' grasp of geopolitical spacial patterns is well above that of a 5th grader. ... ok. ... last one she didn't say out loud.  But I'm sure she thought it.  None the less I still took great solace in the knowledge that my kids are right on track, if not a little ahead of it.  I think that's the hardest part about parenting, especially for the first time.  You don't really know where in the pack your children are at this stage.  I don't have A+'s and C-'s to give me an indicator.  I have a mumbled A, B, C song and counting to 11 (after which Arianna always jumps straight to 16. ... for some reason she loves that number).  So for the next few weeks I'll remain confident in her assessment. ... and then I'll need reassurance once again.  All this aside, I do have to share one quick story with you.  When we were looking at the before mentioned Christmas lights, this one house we came on had a brilliant lawn display.  Reindeer everywhere, Santa on the roof,  a chorus of snowmen, all the happy, sing-songy goodness of Christmas; of course the garage door was open, and inside the home owner was happily cleaning out a shotgun. ... [I'm singing] one of these things is not like the other.  All I'm hoping is, if reindeer are in season, he has his proper tags.  Because that's an easy way to get on the naughty list.  [I'm singing again] Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say "Rudolph with your nose so bright-" BAM! "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

Pic of the Week

'Tis the Season. ...

for sibling squabling.

(actually from our Christmas Card photo shoot)

I rewrote this post 5 times

So I wrote this big entry just now. ... really passionate. ... a little abrassive.  But I deleted it.  It was too aimed at one party. ... and they didn't even know they were being aimed at.  Somethings that I feel need to be said. ... they just shouldn't be.  Don't worry, I'm not dealing with some kind of reality show styled fued or anything.  I just was made aware of some parenting choices of others and my dissappointment was evident.  But it's not my job to call people out and imply things. ... and that's what I was doing.  So I'm just going to generalize and broaden my message so that nobody knows it's really about them. ... tricky, huh?  So here it goes: step it up folks.  Parenting is hard.  But the difference between good parenting and mediocre parenting is just a jump to the left. ... and then a step to the riiiiiiiight.  Your kids. .... they are your life now.  They are not your wards between the waking hours of 7am and 8pm.  They are yours 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for (hopefully) the rest of your natural life.  Maybe even beyond.  Everything you do, and everything you don't do, is going to shape who they are.  Take an extra 5 minutes to read them a story at night.  Put down the gossip rag and play with them. ... on the floor. ... at their level.  Ask them about their day.  Who cares if you can't understand the response. ... it's practice for their conversation skills.  Ask them the colors in the world around them for the millionth time.  Go on a walk with them.  Let them "help" you in the kitchen. .... you can always clean up the "help" later.  Sit with them.  Not near them, with them.  Kiss them every time they walk by you. ... even if you have to chase them down and restrain them to do so.  Tell them you love them.  It's not a hard phrase and I'm sure you do.  Let's practice:  "I" - very good - "love" - you got this - "you". ... bellicima.  Make up stories during bath time.  Tell them they are good children.  Let them try to do things themselves, with out them realizing that you are fully in control of the situation at the time.  Say "hello" to them the moment you walk in the door - don't do anything else first.  Run to them when they call you - there should be nothing more important to you in the world.  Let them "teach" you.  We both know you realize the cat has orange fur, but it's important for them to feel like they're discovering something new.  Dance with them.  For the love of god, dance with them.  In your home, there's no one to judge you.  Being silly. ... it shows them that there are zero walls between you.  And that's a lot less fortification you're going to need to tear down when they're teenagers.  Most important of all. ... appreciate them.  I mean really appreciate them.  For some people kids aren't planned for.  Others call them a blessing but really wish they were somewhere else most of the time.  The truth is they are a gift.  A gift that many people fight for and never receive.  A gift that, sooner or later, you're going to realize the true value of.  And in that moment, you're going to regret that you didn't treat it as such sooner.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  Just listen to Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle".  So that's all today. ... had to get that off my chest.  We'll return to something more embarrassing tomorrow that my daughters will surely hate me for sharing.  But when they're my age, they'll realize that was just one more way that I was telling them I loved them.  I hope.  At least the shrink can explain that to them if they don't.