Hobbiests

I know I have pointed this out on numerous occasions, but one of the great joys of seeing our guys grow up is watching them develop their own interests, personalities, and passions. This was brought home to me tonight as the three boys pursued three very different activities in various places in the house.

 

Almost 9-year-old Cooper, our little jock, had a rare night off from baseball, and was using it to lay flat on the couch watching ... wait for it ... baseball! The Cubs v. the Cardinals to be specific. While baseball is his passion, Cooper will frankly watch any old competitive thing you care to show on TV - major or minor sports, boys, girls, men or women (or horses or dogs, frankly). He would probably watch a coin flip channel if there was such a thing.

 

His almost 9-year old twin Hayden, our little performer, had Amazon Prime music cranked up on the TV in the next room, where he was loudly doing karaoke to Train, Fun and Meghan Trainor songs. This involved holding his fist like a microphone and lots of "rock" moves, including warnings to me that he was going to try to do the splits. Yikes! He and a friend are gearing up for auditioning an amusing duet at the school talent show at tryouts this Wednesday.

 

12-year old Owen, meanwhile, is now months into the odd hobby of modifying store-bought Nerf guns. This involves the purchase of specialized batteries and motors on the internet, soldering, electrical work, sculpting of plastics, and lots of painting using spray paints purchased from the constant trips he request I do with him to AutoZone. At the end of the process, once bright orange or yellow Nerf guns are deconstructed, and reconfigured to shoot faster, further and stronger, and are painted with auto paints to look much "cooler" than the original orange and yellow they typically come in. He first learned to do modifications by watching countless YouTube videos, and has now started developing his own variations. Most recently, he has put some of his modified guns on eBay. While we assumed this would be futile, he confidently assured us it would not be. No one was more surprised than Deanna and I when he received a $50 offer on one of them and then proceeded to reject the offer in a strongly worded email that emphasized the fact that he was looking to make a profit on the gun and that $50 would not do the trick. Tonight, he was busily negotiating with someone different who was offering $80 plus shipping. Taking that deal.  The fact that anyone is willing to pay that much money for something one of my kids created is, quite honestly, stunning to me. Crazy times we live it. Crazy times indeed.

Hep To The Jiv

Hayden is, without a doubt, the house clown. Just past his sixth birthday, he just gets funnier, cracking the rest of us up on a regular basis. While he most frequently works blue, preferring fart, butt and poop jokes, he has recently been expanding his reportoire to include imitations and some characters. Funniest, but vaguely troubling, is his "Cool Guy" character. "Cool Guy" is frequently seen puffing on his "smokin' sticks" - a straw or lollipop stick. Cool Guy uses an imaginary lighter to fire up his smokin' sticks and then dramatically takes drags and exhales. Cool Guy has also been "drinkin' rum", which leaves him staggering around in a five-year old's imitation of a drunk. Most recently, "Cool Guy" leaned back in his chair, an arm thrown casually over the chair back, and announced that he was "Hep to the Jiv" (pronounced to rhyme with "give"). Deanna and I both looked at him as asked "What??" He repeated that he was Hep to the Jiv. Turns out our little cool guy was mispronouncing Hep to the Jive which he had read in one of the Captain Underpants books he has taken to borrowing from his older brother. Setting aside for a moment why a six-year old thinks a cool guy is one who puffs on smokin sticks and gets drunk on rum, the hep to the jiv line was pretty damn funny. I imagine we will be bandying that phrase about the house for years to come.

Hayden also surprised us recently by strolling in from the 90-plus degree heat to announce to us that "It is freaking hot out there."

Finally, I leave you with this conversational gem:

Cooper: "Dad, do you know how old the oldest person was?"

Me: "Ummm, 114??"

Cooper: "No, over 900 years old!"

Me: "Who told you that?"

Hayden: "Tia Suzy (our Bible-totin' babysitter). It's in the Bible."

Me: "Wow. That's pretty old."

Owen: "That must have been Yoda!"

Table Talk

Deanna was out tonight so the boys took the opportunity to lobby me to make my signature Dad meal - grilled cheese, tomato soup and apple-sauce with cinnamon-sugar sprinkled on top. As we neared the end of our sumptuous feast, talk turned to the future. After our recent spring-break trip to Coronado Island near San Diego, Deanna and I had declared to the boys that as soon as they were out of college, we would be moving to Coronado and that given the price of real estate there, we would be unlikely to have room for them. I took this opportunity to back off this declaration a bit - and not just because after putting three kids through college, we are unlikely to be able to afford more than maybe a couple feet of dumpster space on Coronado. I also felt that the kids, being younger, needed the security of knowing we weren't just going to pick up and leave, regardless of what they were up to. Families should stay close to each other, I declared, comfortingly telling them we would be living here except for a couple of months each winter.

They seemed to have already taken this families should stay close to each other point to heart, as all three informed me they would be moving to California with us. Hayden, who has inexplicably become an Oakland A's fan, told me that while he would be living in Coronado with us, he would be spending his vacations in Oakland. That kid is in for a sad shock. Owen, on the other hand, had obviously given the matter some thought, and cited several advantages to California living. While many might cite the weather, Owen is attracted by the fact that if whatever California baseball team he decides to root for starts to tank, he will have plenty of other California teams to choose from. He also likes the fact that California is big enough that he can vacation in different climates without leaving the State - in, say, Oakland for instance. After mulling things over for another minute, though, Owen went back to his long-time plan of building and living in a log cabin in the backyard of his best friend Jack, since Jack has informed him he will not be leaving home after college (heads up Lisette and Brad - not only will you be unable to unload one of your own kids, you will be apparently acquiring one of ours! You may want to talk to me about the aforementioned "Coronado Plan").

I then asked the guys how many kids they were going to have. Cooper - none, because he doesn't like girls, kissing is gross, and because kids would interfere with his plans to play Wii all day. He added that the only girls he really liked were his mom, cousins, and his grandmothers. Sounds like a prime candidate to be living with us for the indefinite future, since I am reasonably sure having a "job" would also interfere with said plan to play Wii all day. Owen - zero or one kids; maybe just a pet. Hayden - 20 kids. He will literally need a bus for those family vacations to Oakland. He subsequently scaled this back to 14 or 15 kids and later, out of earshot of his girl-hating brothers, confided to me the names of some of the young ladies in town he has his eye on to bear his 14 to 20 children. Rather than name names here, I will individually warn you mothers in town whose daughters risk a future of being almost constantly pregnant with nothing to look forward to between pregnancies other than bus trips to Oakland. Well, I will name one name - unfortunately another heads up to Lisette and Brad - he has his eye on your daughter!

That Twin Thing

Time rolls on here on CloudEight; I blink and it has suddenly been almost two months since I posted. If I had to pick a headline among recent events here, it would be that the twins turned four last week!

As is all too common these days, they woke up bickering on their birthday. In fact, as a special birthday treat for us, they set a new record by bickering even before they were awake. Hayden had one of his recurring dreams where he is not getting his fair share and started yelling in his sleep "Cooper, give back my cereal!" Cooper woke up and starting mumbling "I didn't take your cereal" which only caused asleep/half-asleep Hayden to start yelling more. Oy.

They have been waiting to turn four for months, and Cooper in particular seemed to sense that being four would result in dramatic changes. He asked us repeatedly on his birthday whether he looked taller. He seemed mildly surprised that his pants still fit and reassured Deanna that she did not have to buy him new gym shoes as the old ones continued to appear to be able to contain his four-year-old feet.

While in many ways it has been awfully nice to have three-year olds, there are certain things I will not miss:

It would be nice if they were tall enough to stop hitting their heads on doorknobs. Hayden in particular, seems almost like he has a magnetic plate in his head that draws him to every doorknob he passes. Or he will need a metal plate soon enough if he doesn't stop whacking his melon this year.

It would also be nice if they were tall enough that they were not resting either their penises or balls on the rims of every public toilet and urinal they use. Nothing causes me to lose my appetite faster than watching Cooper shake the last drop of urine off his penis after peeing by whacking it repeatedly against the pee-stained rim of a fast-food restaurant urinal.

I will not miss the most commonly heard phrase in our house being "Can you wipe my butt?" This phrase has already mostly gone by the wayside, but was seriously heard more than any other this past year. It goes without saying that I will not miss the actual wiping of their butts either, except for maybe their excited inquiries as to how many wipes it was taking to actually clean them up each time. I guess it could be said that all the wiping helped them learn to count.

Things I will miss very much:

Naps!!!

Mispronunciations and odd phrasing. They still call going to sleep at night a "dark-out nap." The are crazy about all things Star Wars and like to fight each other with light "savers." At night, we either read from the Harry Potter books (Owen's preference) or from what the twins endearingly refer to as "storybooks with pictures."

Picking them up. I have enjoyed carrying the guys more as requests have become less frequent over time. Nothing like having a little guy snuggled against your shoulder.

That semi-fresh toddler smell. Not as good smelling as babies, but certainly better smelling than a boy.

While they are very different people, and more their own individuals every day, they remain extraordinarily close in that twin way. Cooper was giving Hayden a hard time about a young female acquaintance of theirs the other day, teasing him "You are going to marry her, you loooovvvvvve her." Hayden's reassuring reply: "I love you more Cooper." Ah, twins.

Pee At Sea

Recently, when I mentioned that so-and-so enjoys reading my blog, my mother sarcastically responded "that's got to be pretty time consuming." Ouch. Yep, time to get back to posting.

Last month we took a 7-day Disney cruise and spent an additional three nights at Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge. I returned relaxed, vaguely tan, and definitely poorer. A couple of weeks later and the tan and relaxed state are long gone, while the poorer part, unfortunately, appears to be sticking. There are the memories though too, and they were worth every one of the hundreds of thousands of pennies that were spent. Predictably, a great time was had by all. While I won't bore you with details of our many trips to the pool, beaches on Caribbean islands, the 90-something degree weather, trips to the spa, awesome workouts, the sumptuous feasts we were treated to each night, my brilliance on the shuffleboard court (skills honed during childhood summers in Door County, WI!), our $2,000 bingo jackpot (whoooo-hoooo!), or the warm milk and cookies delivered gratis to our cabin each night with just a call to room service, there are a few memories that I did want to share:

The RedPlanet Family Singers: Having never tried karaoke before, we attended a "family karaoke night" on the ship one night and gave it a whirl. Unfortunately, we selected "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious", foolishly forgetting that not only does the song increase in speed to its final frenetic pace, but that the words are actually sung backwards at one point. Disaster ensued.

Least Disney Moment: One night my father-in-law was trying to secure chairs on the top deck of the cruiseship only to find them being hogged up by various people. Approaching a man who was hoarding a large number of unoccupied chairs, my father-in-law inquired what the man needed all of the chairs for. The man began to explain and then said "I don't know why I am telling you all of that, this is Disney, we do whatever the hell we want." To which my father-in-law replied "OK then, I want your chairs" and proceeded to start taking them before my mother-in-law intervened to stave off a fistfight. Go Bob!

Most Disney Moment: While Disney employees are almost all outstanding, I was particularly impressed when one day while at sea I stopped by the sports bar hoping to watch the Bears game via satellite. As luck would have it, the ship sailed into an area with no satellite signal for the duration of the afternoon. I expressed my disappointment to one of the bar employees. Later that night, I returned to my room to find that she had slid a printout under my door that had not only the score, but all the statistics of the game. Awesome!

Regrets: The Animal Kingdom Lodge offers stunning views of free-ranging African wildlife on a savanna, some wandering as close as 25-feet from your balcony. What you saw at any given time depended on what particular animals had wandered within viewing distance of your balcony. As cool as this was, I quickly become a bit jaded and when Deanna suggested on the third morning that we sit on the balcony and watch for a bit while the kids were still asleep, I replied "why bother, there's nothing out there right now but giraffe and zebra." As I sit in my cold basement a month later, rain spitting against the window for the 7th day in a row, I am wishing I had bothered!

My most enduring memories of the cruiseship, however, will be of the bathrooms. While I bragged back in May about having changed my last diaper, I did not realize that leaving diaper changing behind would result in my hearing innumerable shouts of "Daddy, will you wipe my butt???" The twins are hyper-conscious of their need to use the bathroom, and, like a pair of 22-year old girls out at a club, one cannot possibly go to the bathroom without the other. One dinner on the ship we took both of them three times! As we were rarely in our cabin during the cruise, we were most often patronizing public bathrooms around the ship. While almost every public bathroom in the universe features urinals of varying heights, astonishingly, considering how utterly predictable it is that there would actually be children aboard a Disney cruise, every damn urinal on the ship was designed for use by men 6 feet and over, leaving the stalls as our only option. Since space is tight on a ship, there was almost always only one stall in each public bathroom, and it would, of course, usually be occupied. Hayden's modus operandi upon entering the men's room in this situation was to get down low to get a good look under the stall door and announce to all in a loud voice that "there's a man in there!". He would then alternate between repeating that phrase every 30 seconds, in case it didn't sink in the first five times, and loud speculation as to when the man would be out so he could go. This proved quite effective actually, at causing people to practically flee the stalls to avoid further embarrassment. Then Cooper, Hayden and I would crowd ourselves into the stall for ten minutes of business, chit-chat and butt-wiping (often while a line formed outside), followed by handwashing and, the most exciting time of all, use of the hand dryer (the twins love to talk about whether hand dryers are automatic or push button).

So, as I dry my chapped and cold hands this winter here in Chicago, I can always warm myself up with the memories of that bathroom on Deck 4, aft, on the starboard side. You know, the one with the manly industrial style toilets and sinks, the roomy single stall and only low urinal on the ship, and the nice automatic hand dryer. Ah, sweet vacation memories.

Cupcakes and Firetrucks

Hayden and Cooper commenced their educational careers today at their very first session of two-day a week pre-school. They were little bundles of nervous anticipation and excitement this morning, as we made our way the two long blocks to school. Typical boys, most of their pre-arrival questions centered around whether there would be a bathroom at the school and whether they would be getting anything to eat. Cooper's specific inquiry when he was informed there would be snacks, spoken in his most hopeful tone, was "Donuts???". As luck would have it, his wish was not that far off, as it was a classmates birthday right off the bat, resulting in cupcakes for the class at snack time. Score!!

Upon our eventual arrival at school, they both made a bee-line for the bathroom , so most of our pre-class time was spent in there while Cooper took care of number 1 and Hayden took care of number 2. While accompanying them, I was able to answer their usual press conference-like onslaught of bathroom questions, including classics such as why there are sinks in bathrooms, why we wash our hands with soap and warm water, and why some paper towels come out automatically and some toilets flush automatically and some don't, and, of course, the all-time most asked favorite, where do the poop and pee-pee go when they are flushed. They seemed no less fascinated at my answer to this last question at the school than they have been the 10,000 times they have asked me that same question at home. While modern plumbing systems are indeed amazing, especially when measured against human history as it relates to sewage, I really don't think it is that much more amazing than say, a microwave oven cooking food (something I frankly wouldn't be so hot at explaining (pun intended)). It strikes me now as I am writing this that my little teaching lesson in the bathroom was actually their first in-school student experience.

Anyway, we made it out of the bathroom just in time for parents to be kicked out of the classroom and after kisses goodbye, we left them happily playing with toy firetrucks. When asked what the two best parts of his school day were later, Hayden replied "cupcakes and firetrucks." To my two littlest guys, your proud dad wishes you many, many cupcake and firetruck days in your school career and in life. Godspeed.

Cold, Cars and Evil Cackles

Dropping by with some brief thoughts from a chilly CloudEight:

I am not sure which is more annoying: Having to wear coats in June or people who point to any spate of unseasonably cold or cool weather as some sort of "proof" that global warming is not occurring.

The boys have been entertaining themselves recently while we drive by enthusiastically shouting "C'mon lady, lets move!" at the cars ahead of us every time a traffic light turns green. This is allegedly a behavior they learned by hearing me shout it at a fellow driver(s). While the statement is maybe not the greatest behavior for the boys to be modeling, I comfort myself with the fact that they could certainly be repeating much, much worse statements I have made. So far, so good on that front - so don't cross me on the road.

Sharing is hard for three year olds and, I'm guessing, even harder for three-year old twins since there is not a lot that seems uniquely "yours." While the little guys are okay at it, they are constantly on guard for any perceived advantage one is being given over the other, as well as opportunities to assert their individuality. When I had just Cooper on errands recently, and a local business owner gave him a sucker, he promptly told me he was going to save it to show Owen and Hayden and then proceeded to let loose what can only be described as an evil cackle at the thought of lording it over them. His plan had the desired effect, resulting in jealous whining, tears and demands for suckers from his brothers. Meanwhile, Hayden, the more obviously selfish of the twins, has slowly come a long way in his sharing ability. Several times in the last couple of weeks, however, he has apparently been having twin-sharing nightmares that have caused him to shout out things in his sleep along the lines of "No, Cooper, No! Don't take the whole thing!"

Ain't No Party Like a Pee-Pee Party

It appears that I have only been able to muster a single post in the last month. Where have I been? Well, there was that period where everyone was a little sick. And then there was that stuff at work. The refusal of Hayden to sleep except during a random two hour window every two weeks or so has also contributed. So, honestly, has the improving weather. Oh, and several times I was simply distracted by TV and just didn’t feel like posting.

So what has been going on on CloudEight, you ask?? Hmmm. To touch on a couple of our favorite themes, there have been two incidents of puking in the car since my last post, along with all of the post-puking clean-up fun that car puking incidents lead to. There has been one trip to the emergency room: Cooper v. coffee-table = 3 staples to the back of the head. Yuck. Second trip to the emergency room caused by this particular table, by the way, as it also sent Owen there with a wound to the forehead three years ago. Either we are slow learners or the coffee-table has blood-lust, not sure which. Cooper and Owen have since been engaging in sometimes heated arguments as to who was hurt worse by the coffee-table, and we would certainly be wise to move it before Hayden, who loves a good argument, intentionally self-inflicts some damage to his own head just to get in on the action.

Mostly, though, I have spent the past month hanging out in the bathroom. The good news on that front is that I may have actually changed my last diaper, retiring after a respectable career. I can’t say that I have put up hall-of-fame numbers, mind you, as I only have three kids after all, but I have certainly worked it hard. I have left it all on the changing table, so to speak, and have no regrets. Well, there was that one time I guess, that I regretted my lack of vigilance and failure to note a penis aimed at my head. And there were certainly times I regretted having a sense of smell. Other than that though, it has been tedious but sweet, as a swift change of a diaper has long been one of my parenting strengths.

Anyway, my career is coming to an end not due to me losing a little something on my fastball or some sort of marital decree laid down by me that henceforth, only the women in the family shall change diapers. Instead, the twins went from reluctant and seemingly unready to potty-train to wearing nothing but underwear in the space of a week. Seriously, it was that fast. That was three weeks ago and not an accident since.

My changing of diapers has been replaced, however, by endless trips to the bathroom, during which the guys proudly eek out the thimble full of pee that has trickled into their bladders since the last bathroom trip ten minutes ago. And so it goes. We read books, we sing songs, we chit-chat. There is dramatic grunting and bragging about the size of poop (they are actually quite generous in oohing and aahing over the size of each other poops; a mutual admiration and support society). There is endless wonder as to where everything disappears to when the toilet is flushed, complete with numerous questions and close examinations of areas of the toilet that no one has business examining. Then there is the rinsing out of their little potty seats, followed by extremely enthusiastic hand-washing, leaving our little bathrooms perpetually looking like a freak thunderstorm has just raged through. Leave bathroom for five to ten minutes, repeat ... and repeat ... and repeat. Still, much like bodily waste, this too shall pass - hopefully in time for me to catch a bit of out-of-the-bathroom sunshine before winter sets in again.

Hot Time in Chicago - That Toddler Town

Deanna and Owen are thawing out in Florida for a few days with her parents, leaving the twins and I to fend for ourselves in this subzero meat locker of a city we call home.

While others may have seen this as unfair or depressing, the twins saw it simply as an opportunity to host that all night "Go Fish" party and tournament they are always scheming to have but that Deanna would never let them do, what with their 8 p.m. bedtimes and all. I can be a bit of a soft touch, and soon enough on Saturday afternoon both boys were making some calls to their little friends on their plastic Mickey Mouse cellphones and sending text messages that to me all looked like "psihPPP7&^$plmmmmm," but which is apparently toddler for "game on" as it was not long before a rowdy bunch of two-somethings was gathered in the basement. The buy-in was sixteen cheerios, a wheel from a hot wheels car, and "something shiny." Beverages of choice were non-alcoholic jello shots and whole milk shooters.

A couple of hours in, hunger descended on the crowd, the plastic cellphones came out again, and next thing I knew, a delivery guy was at the door with the entire contents of the kids menu from the local Mexican place. Not too much later, a fight broke out - there was pushing and nonsensical yelling ("Bubblebutt!" "Bad boy!" "No you bad boy!") - followed by all of the participants and non-participants converging on me for a mass tattle. Having dispensed some of my judge-like justice in the form of timeouts for the main offenders, I returned upstairs to find some female toddlers had arrived - those damn plastic cellphones again, how the hell were they doing this?!? As the responsible parent present, I was initially concerned that a game of strip "Old Maid" might be in the offing, but was comforted by the fact that none of the attendees possessed the manually dexterity to actually remove all of their own clothes.

Instead, it turned into a crazy toddler rave, with some three year old kid wearing sunglasses spinning Ralph's World and Dan Zanes tunes until the pacifier-sucking crowd on the floor was worked up into a well-past-bedtime frenzy. The endless loop of Baby Einstein, Teletubbies and BooBah videos running on the large screen TV in the background lent the scene a surreal quality. As the only adult present, I was for all intents and purposes the bathroom as well, as most of our guests were not potty-trained. The line for diaper changes snaked around the corner into the hallway at times and there was loud complaining when we ran out of wipes. From there, the evening could only go one place: karaoke. Let me just say you haven't lived until you have heard a band of tone-deaf, sugared-up two-year-olds massacre the lyrics to Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and the Alphabet Song at 10:00 p.m. on a crazy Saturday night.

With the crowd collapsed into fits of giggles, I knew it was time to send everyone packing. I made a round of calls to what turned out to be largely surprised parents who had assumed their little bundles of joy were tucked safely in their cribs. By 11 p.m. - the toddler definition of staying up all nite by the way - I had cleared the house of all but my two little troublemakers. After confiscating the plastic phones - as well as the plastic keys to their Step 2 foot-powered cars, just to be on the safe side - it was off to bed for all of us.

Twenty four hours later, most of it spent cleaning up - I swear I will be finding half-filled sippy cups of congealed milk until Spring - I am still exhausted and just now finally able to muster the energy to write this.

Ginkle Bells

Hayden wandered by me the other day, smiling to himself while he tunelessly sang Jingle Bells to no one in particular. Because he is 2 1/2, and most likely has no concious memory of hearing the song before a week ago, it went like this: "Ginkle bells, ginkle bells, ginkle bells, ginkle bells, ginkle bells, ginkle bells, ginkle bells, ginkle bells, ginkle bells." At that point, just when I thought he had some sort of robot-like short circuit in his brain, he unstuck, and launched into a verse that went something like "fun ... ride ... horse ... sleigh." In addition to finding this damn cute (seriously, like 10 times cuter than I have been able to convey here), I was also struck once again how awesome it is in some ways to be two.

Less than two months ago, the twins left behind a summer that was chock full of two year old fun and adventure and were immersed suddenly into Halloween culture - a blur of costumes and parties, pumpkin carving, and scary but fun decorations. They often insisted on wearing their costumes parts of each day leading up to Halloween, merrily following Owen in whatever crazy game or monster related fun he was cooking up that day. On Halloween itself, it took a total of about two houses to master the concept that if they said trick or treat and held out their bags, they would be handed actual CANDY - score!!

Then, before the sugar high had even worn off, everything was about turkeys and pilgrims and horns o' plenty, culminating with a giant party at our house attended by all of their favorite people on earth.

Two days after Thanksgiving, life changed abruptly again and we were hauling 14 bins full of Christmas wonder down from the attic. Suddenly, everything is Santa and lights and Christmas trees and Baby Jesus and songs and reindeer and stars. One day they are reading about snow and not really understanding it, and the next they are standing outside in the real thing, laughing delightedly as they attempt to pelt me with snowballs (I say attempt because to actually be pelted by a two year old, I would have to literally stand six inches from them). One day, they see lights on a tree in someones yard and go nuts. A week later, and we are, crazily, bringing a tree INTO THE HOUSE and putting lights on it. Madness, genius, ecstasy!!!

They accept these constant changes to their lives without question and with a good natured enthusiasm that is, of course, infectious. And really, why shouldn't they, as life at this point is a wonderous series of costume changes for the house which is essentially their world at this point, each more awesome than the next (actually, it is pretty debatable whether Thanksgiving is literally more awesome to a two year old than Halloween, but you know what I mean).

So, while being two has its downsides, a limited ability to fully express your wants and desires and our quite obviously unfair and onerous household policy of demanding children go to bed being chief among them, it seems, overall, like a pretty damn fine existence. Ginkle on.

Polygamy, Yay-Yay & Poopa and More!

Due to my lengthy absence, I'll briefly summarize some recent events:

We recently spent a long weekend at the beach in Michigan, sharing a rented house with three other couples and a total of 10 kids, of whom Owen, at age 5, was the oldest. The sheer number of small children lent the weekend sort of polygamist commune feel, absent the sex with multiple women part. Actually Owen was more of the polygamist hero, as at one point there were was a scrum of naked little girls duking it out on an air mattress for the right to marry him. On a polygamist commune, he could simply have married them all - problem solved.

Owen is growing up before our eyes. He lost his first tooth and started kindergarten this week. Judging by my perusal of other parenting blogs, I will give birth to an obligatory reflective post on this subject sooner or later, but at the moment, it still appears to be gestating.

The most exciting event has been the fact that the twins have gone from worrisomely nonvocal, like two miniature Silent Bobs, to constant chatter in the space of a month. They are counting, laying down sentences, and, charmingly, referring to themselves as Poopa (Cooper) and Yay-Yay (their variation on Hay-Hay, which is what we most commonly call Hayden), which remind me of the sort of fun names rappers used to give themselves back in the 80's . If we could lure Spinderella out of retirement to round out the group, we might have something going. Maybe record a number called Hip-Hop-Hooyay-yay (featuring DJ Fresh Poopa).

Oddly, they both seem to speak with some sort of heavy working class Boston accent. In addition, Hayden has a rather high-pitched little voice, which has me constantly trying, for my own amusement, to teach him to say "miiiiiiseryyyyy" like Helium in the Strindberg and Helium cartoons. No luck yet but I'll keep you posted. Get it - blog, posted. All right, enough already.

Attack of the Giraffes

The twins turned 1 1/2 a couple of days back. They are slow to talk, especially compared to how verbal Owen was at this age, but I feel they are, at last, on the verge of a verbal-explosion.

While Hayden already sports a massive vocabulary consisting of "mama, dada, duck and boo (the latter having gotten quite a workout in the recent Halloween-season), both Hayden and Cooper currently communicate primarily through baby sign language and by grunting and pointing. The pointing by Hayden is often accompanied by quite a bit of animation and urgency, along with a series of plaintive little "ah, ah, ah" sounds. Sort of like Lassie, but instead of trying to alert us to trouble down at the old mill, it usually turns out to be something much more mundane - most commonly that Cooper has swiped something from him.

Cooper meanwhile, has, in recent weeks, taken a stab at making animal noises. Hopefully a precursor to actual words and a ritual I would guess has been enjoyed by toddlers for the last 6000 years or so. Apparently channeling those cave-dwelling ancestors, Cooper makes the same drawn out monotone grunt for every single animal. It actually sounds an awful lot like Phil Hartman doing Frankenstein on those old Saturday Night Live skits. Probably for that reason, I find it endlessly amusing to sit with him and go through a book featuring different animals. After I turn each page, he gazes at the new animal with a serious little face, points at it and goes "aaaaaaaagggg." So, although giraffes don't actually have voiceboxes (or so my smart wife claims - sounds like crazy-talk to me), I like to imagine a pack of them lumbering along stiff-legged, making their ominous Frankenstein-sounds as they bear down on an unsuspecting Village while Lassie attempts in vain to wake the local Sheriff.

Summer, Part II

Last summer, my mother, I'm sure in all sincerity, wondered aloud to me whether I was having my best summer ever. I can see how she might say that, since after years of struggling to have kids, we had been blessed once with Owen and then blessed twice more with the birth of Cooper and Hayden in May 2006. Although I am thankful and appreciative every day for those little guys and the joy they have brought to our lives, that appreciation is separate from the everyday unrelenting grind that was last summer with a toddler and two newborns in the house. In short, last summer, with its sleep deprivation and constant feed and caring of two fragile, slightly premature newborns was, in the final summation, probably in my bottom ten summers ever.

Best summer ever, by the way, is, and probably will always be, reserved for the summer of 1983; a summer of firsts and lasts, fueled by hormones, beer, recreational drugs, sun, a newfound sense of freedom, close friendships, and the pure joy of being alive. First girlfriend, first real kiss (and more!), first summer with a driver's license, playing my first concerts with my first rock band, last summer without a steady job (just my lawn mowing business where my hours were dictated by myself and the weather). A intensely happy blur of fireworks, concerts, new friends, parties, movies, cruising around in cars, staying out late, etc. I recall how sad me and my friends were over labor day weekend, as we all realized a truly special time was coming to an end. Happily, I made an audio record of this particular summer, ranging from the sweetly mundane (me and my sister washing dishes) to the classic (me and my friends being kicked out of the local pizza parlor for not having a table).

This summer has been a vast improvement over last, due in no small part to more regular sleep and the increased mobility of the kids, freeing us to wander further afield, eat out, etc. (although Cooper's annoying habit of screeching in a very loud and obnoxious manner when he doesn't get his way - predictably unpopular with those unfortunate enough to be dining in the vicinity - has tempered our desire to frequent restaurants of late). It has also had its handful of moments that create the sort of indelible imprint in your memory (see, e.g. my awesome surprise party!) that enable you to look back, even years later, and say that was a damn fine summer. What has been especially cool though, is enjoying the season through the eyes of the kids. Owen's excitement over vacation and just about everything else is infectious. And the twins, despite not talking yet, have clearly had a ball wire to wire this season. From the second their shoes and socks came off in spring and they cackled with glee as their toes felt the grass beneath their feet for the first time, they have been a joy to spend time with. So, while adult summers, necessarily and probably thankfully, pass by on a more limited emotional plain than those of my youth, watching the kids delight in their own firsts as they have turned into little people with big personalities and an appetite for life has somehow been extremely satisfying. Parenthood, as it turns out, has its own unique rewards.