One month old today!
We’re having zero luck making any movies of these babies without one of them farting.
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December, 2008:
Elise Delilah – Belly Time
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27 days old. Rooting for the nipple, and since that’s not available, doing a very mellow version of her ‘crazy baby’ rooting, for which we don’t yet have a descriptive term. It’s crazy, though.
Rusty discs
This was the last time I threw my Champion Beast distance driver.
You know, the green and purple fly-dye I’ve had since forever? Yeah, that one.
7th hole, pulled really hard right, two houses into the ghetto.
RIP
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The Subconscious Beginnings of Laughter
It’s fascinating to watch these babies mature. They’re only 26 days old and the changes they’ve already undergone, while not breathtaking, are noticeable. Among many other things, they are learning to laugh.
They aren’t laughing at anything, well not anything that I can see or understand. They aren’t laughing at my funny facial expressions, or my absurd diaper changing dances. They aren’t laughing when green foamy poo comes shooting out their butts.
They’re laughing in their sleep. Not guffaws or knee slapping chortles, but subtle little chuckles accompanied by quaking spasms in their guts. It never lasts very long, only a second or two, at the most. It’s the most adorable thing in the world, seeing their tiny faces curl into grins as their bodies shake, and then three or four little squeals issue forth.
I wonder what could be making them laugh. They don’t have language as we know it. They don’t have any experiences that could lead them to reflect on something that was funny. They don’t appear to be ticklish yet. Nothing happened to them on the way to the Forum.
Maybe laughter is a reflex, a knee-jerk reaction that we, as humans, cannot avoid. Maybe the riddle of the Sphynx is evident here. Much like we begin and end our lives bald, small and wrinkled, we’ll all likely be laughing at nothing in particular in our final days as well.
Double Belly Time
Ok, as I write this from the Blackberry I took the photo on, Elise and Althea are still sleeping. On my chest. I am posting this directly from my BB.
Idoia’s napping on the other couch. She has no idea I’m accomplishing/enjoying this.
First I was napping alone. Then, Elise starts whimpering from her swingy seat. I check and sure enough, poopie diaper, so I change her and sure enough she pees all over her onesie. Skin to skin time, yay, so we’re back to the couch for 30min of nap.
Then, Althea starts muttering from her swingy chair, and this idea crosses my mind… Maybe I can get them BOTH on me…
Elise goes to the bed. Holding pattern. Althea gets snagged and changed without even waking. Whip off the onesie and set her next to Elise.
Gingerly, I scoop them both up, one in each arm, and we make our way back to the couch, where I gracefully land with both of them where they still lie, chuckling in their sleep, happily warm on Daddy’s chest.
.
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Good Morning Farting Babies
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What The Fantolina
Casually boxing in the bassinette. Mornings are punctuated with cooing, stretching, and sounds not unlike rusty, squeaky playground amusements.
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Baby Fix — Althea
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Gkikas 2.0
As you can tell, there’s been some changes. Big ones, small ones. Huge ones.
Firstly, you’ll notice that the layout of this site’s changed. Seeing as I have doubts that anyone actually reads this stuff, you’ll probably wonder what it used to look like. It was messy. It was cramped. It had too many rounded corners. Basically, it sucked. I’m turning over a new leaf. Starting over, because now I really have something to talk about.
Fatherhood’s a lot of fun, so far. I spend equal amounts of time changing diapers, coaxing gas bubbles to either end, swaddling, swaying, shooshing (?), playing referee between family members, playing psychiatrist to my wife, managing to keep the bills paid, and trying to get some sleep, here and there. I think I’m doing an okay job, so far.
But I’m tired. Really tired. The kind of exhaustion that feels like energy, sometimes, it’s so convoluted. I forget what day it is. I’m working and getting things done, but it all runs together. Morning, evening, 4am, catnaps, struggling to stay awake at the wheel when I’m out on the road. I figure this must be typical, especially of twins parents.
As you also can tell, I’m not doing much editing. This will be stream of consciousness from now on, or cream of unconsciousness. Something like that. There will be pictures. I will serve corn.