Hot Freaks

While cooking dinner, I heard a howl come from the dining room. I wasn't particularly startled since I'm used to screams coming from just about any room in the house throughout the day. This scream seemed no different than any other. I was sure it was my two-year old, Eliana, crying out. Her brother probably looked at her funny. Or her sister had the nerve to use a crayon that she had been using three hours earlier. You know, the usual.

I stopped what I was doing and made my way towards the ruckus. In addition to the sobs of the two year old, I could hear hysterical laughter coming from at least a couple of her older siblings. Despite, or maybe because of, the mundane nature of the disturbance, my annoyance level was running high. There's something about mid-dinner prep disruptions that make me grit my teeth and huff harder and louder than normal. I could already feel a roar welling up in my chest before I even entered the room. Whatever these chowderheads were up to, this parental volcano was about to vent some steam.

They didn't disappoint.

My poor two year old daughter, tears streaming down her cheeks, sat in front of a partially eaten taco. A taco made entirely of shredded cheese and habanero pepper sauce. Her three older brothers could barely contain their laughter. Until they saw my face. Silence descended upon the room mere milliseconds before the first notes of operatic fury left my lips. I froze them in their tracks before they could make their breakneck retreats to the far corners of the house. Timeouts were issued sagaciously and without delay. While my hooligans quietly reflected on their heinous misdeeds, I tended to my daughter's scorched mouth.

Some cold milk and a lollipop were enough to soothe both Eliana's taste buds and her psyche. But what to do with the scoundrels that perpetrated the crime...

I had each of the boys stick out their tongues to receive two direct drops of unadulterated hot sauce. The anticipated heat was probably worse than the actual hot sauce, but the message was received.

Hot sauce retribution. Fitting? Silly? Cruel and unusual?

Deja Vu All Over Again

Two days ago, without assistance or even telling anyone, Darwin went into the bathroom, took off his diaper, climbed on the toilet and went pee.

I'm no expert, but I believe the child rearing books refer to this as an "indicator."

After a little further Internet research, canvassing the local moms group, and discussing the situation with our priest, I made the decision to put Darwin in underwear today.

Wish us luck.

Are They All Clean?

In our house it's a rule that you have to wash your hands at least as long as it takes to sing the ABC song.

Guess we should make it a rule to actually put your hands under the water, too.

Ready or Not, Here We Come

Some people have called us crazy for having five kids in six years. I say, "Ha, I'll show you crazy! I'm going to take those five kids and fly them across the country in the middle of the holiday travel season!"

The crazy has begun.

Monday, we drove to Chicago. That was a solid six hours in the car. We topped that off by confining everyone to a hotel room that was slightly bigger than our minivan, for another 18 hours. Once everyone was good and stir crazy -- the at each other's throat variety -- we headed to the airport.

The smartest travel decision we made was getting to the airport three hours before our scheduled flight. I don't remember the last time I didn't feel rushed in an airport. The lack of pressure makes all the difference in the world in managing five youngsters in a busy airport. Not having to yell, "HURRY UP!" may add seven years to my lifespan.

No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

I suppose I could let you watch Adventure Time... if you rub my feet.

When You Gotta Go

I was clearing out some photos from my phone when I came across this gem. I snapped this shot from my in-law's dining room earlier this year. At first glance it doesn't look like much, but take a closer look at that Jeep parked outside the house. I know it's hard to make out, but you're looking at a case of toddler public indecency facilitated by this gentleman, presumably his dad, in the dead of winter.

I just happened to be looking out the window when I saw this car pull off the main road and park outside the house. I didn't recognize the vehicle and was a little curious as to why someone would stop in such an odd location. My curiosity was further piqued when the driver rushed out of the car, ran around to the opposite rear door, dove inside,  and then emerged with a child of about 2 or 3 years of age. Before I could even contemplate what I was witnessing, the driver yanked the kid's pants down and then stood on lookout while the boy urinated all over the back tire of the Jeep. Then, as quick as they arrived, they were loaded in the car and back on their way.

Having been knee deep in potty training twins at the time, I felt a certain affinity towards this father, a man backed into a corner and forced into action. He would never know that I had witnessed their untimely call of nature, but nonetheless I gave him a heartfelt, silent head nod as they drove off into the distance. Nice work, dude. You kept the pee off of the $200 Britax car seat, junior gets a few Skittles as a reward, and you get to continue on to your destination unfettered. And this never gets mentioned to Mom. Ever.

Do you know how much of a royal pain in the ass it is to get those car seat covers off so they can be washed Seriously. I can change the oil in my car faster than I can clean a car seat.

I've had plenty a close call in the car while the twins were potty training (and a couple of actual accidents). Because of housing and school arrangements, we were in the car for a couple hours a day during that time when the twins were ditching the diapers for underwear. Let's just say that Truman and Amelia have gotten more than a few frantic Ray Lewis-style pep talks as we cruised around in the minivan.

"You can do this! You ARE a big kid. You're going to hold it in until we get there! You're going to keep your pants dry! YOU CAN DO THIS!!! WE MUST PROTECT THESE UNDEROOS!!!"

SAHD - Day 665

I think it's safe to say I'm fully entrenched in the stay at home dad business - especially with baby number five on the way. A couple months from now I'll be crossing the two year point since I quit my corporate gig to stay home full time with my kids. We thought long and hard about that decision and agonized for months over what we were actually going to do. Now it seems like the answer should have been obvious. It hasn't been easy, but it was clearly the right decision for our family. In the 665 days since then, I've learned a lot about myself, about my kids and about laundry.

I love being a stay at home dad. Here are some of the things I've learned, observed and discovered since becoming one.

I have more patience than I ever realized. I always thought I was a fairly laid back person, but my patience muscles have been seriously exercised since taking on the full time parenting gig.

I have more of a temper than I ever realized. But when my patience wears thin... look out.

You can't let a three year old girl comb her own hair with one of those stupid 360 degree round brushes. You know those brushes with bristles all the way around? Those things should come with warnings. Amelia can get her hair irreparably knotted around one of these devices in under four seconds.

Silence is not golden. Silence is cause for alarm. Silence is the last thing I want to hear. Silence means someone is focused on getting into some serious trouble. Like cutting their own hair. Or stuffing golf balls in the toilet.

Children are often less logical than pregnant women. It's close, but at least pregnant women don't stick jelly beans up their noses for no apparent reason.

Kids remember. They always remember.  You know when you promised them at age three that when they turned five they could have their own pack of bubble gum? You might as well etch that stuff in stone.

I can make pancakes without looking at a recipe. In fact, I have my own made up recipe. And they're the bomb.

I can grocery shop with four small children. I get lots and lots of looks, but the grocery store staff has at least gotten used to us. One time at Walmart, a woman yelled from across the parking lot, "YOU GO, DADDEEEEEE!"

The bar for dad parenting skills is set way, way, wayyyyy low. Seriously low. See above. I can be in the grocery store at the same time as a mother with more kids than me and I'll get no less than half a dozen "compliments" on my bravery while she won't get a second glance. At the grocery store, the doctor's office, the library, the park -- pretty much any public place -- if I have more than two kids with me, I'm guaranteed to get comments from someone concerning my ability to parent. "Wow, you're brave." "My husband could never do that." "Do you need help?" "Dad of the year!" My personal favorite, though, is "What did your wife do to get the day off?"

Preparation is key. Being a stay-at-home parent is almost exactly like being a restaurant manager. The more you do to prepare for each day the easier it will be to handle the challenges that inevitably pop up. Right after college I managed a restaurant for a few years and the parallels between that job and this one are incredible. The stress and chaos are so similar, as are the means for dealing with them. The big difference is I can't fire my kids and I can't blame my woes on the manager from the prior shift.

Laundry is the killer. With this many people in one house, no other task occupies nearly as much time as collecting, sorting, washing, drying, folding and putting away the laundry. I need a better system.

Systems are key. This is also a restaurant management principle. It's my nature to want to have systems for everything and for those systems to constantly be refined for maximum efficiency. It's the only way I can effectively manage my days with the kids.

Repetition is key. The more an activity becomes a routine, the easier it is to manage the kids during said activity. Grocery shopping with all four kids is usually a smooth affair because we do it every week. I know what to expect, they know what to expect and together we're fairly proficient at it.

Potty training is overrated. Sort of. Yes, changing diapers is a tiresome chore. But, I like to spend a lot of our day out of the house. Before potty training, that meant we had the freedom to do what we wanted when we wanted and we just had to be prepared to change an occasional diaper in the car. Post potty training it means ten minutes of bathroom breaks every time before we leave the house, monitoring fluid intake away from home, and potentially visiting some less than savory public restrooms with two, three or even four young kids. And Miss Amelia is notorious for exclaiming, "I have to poop!" the moment she spies a Target. What the hell?

Life is harder for the working parent. I think it's no contest. I can by physically, mentally and/or emotionally drained at the end of the day, but when it comes down to it I'm spending time with my kids and just thinking about how much I love them and how lucky I am to have them gives me all the motivation I need to keep going. I don't miss office life one bit. Working outside the home can have all the stress and demands of staying at home, but it has the added stress of always being away from the ones you love the most in the world.

To Jameson

Dear Jameson,

Your mom and I met with your preschool teacher this evening to discuss your school year thus far.  She said if she had to use one word to describe having you in her class, it would be "delightful."  We were not at all surprised to hear this.  You are a very considerate and smart young man.  Your teacher also went on to say that you sometimes talk a little more than you should but you always raise your hand before speaking.  This is understandable.  We know you have many, many ideas running through your head and there are only so many hours in the day to give voice to those ideas.  She also mentioned that you are very good at following instructions.  Sometimes too good.  She said you tend to run out of time on your projects as you are so intent on doing things just right.  I'm sorry to say that this will probably never change as your father has suffered with this same challenge his entire life.  You can't rush perfection.  Finally, your teacher said that she loved having you in her class and she is always amazed how you sound like a "little gentleman" with what you say and how you say it.

Tonight was not the first time we've been told how delightful you are.  In fact, everyone we meet at your school has something truly nice to say about you.  Mom and I are very, very proud of the "little gentleman" you are becoming.

Love,

Mom and Dad

PS - Your teacher is well aware that corn is actually a grain, but for the sake of getting through your class discussion she was simply calling it a vegetable because that is how most people refer to it.

This Won't Hurt a Bit

I've taken all four kids many places on my own.  The park.  The grocery store.  Target.  But this morning I'm really pushing my toddler management skills.  I'm flying solo as I take all four kids to the doctor.  And all four are receiving shots.

There's a 10% chance this goes off without a hitch.
There's a 40% chance that panic induced hysteria breaks out after the first shot.
There's a 100% chance of lollipops all around.

Phase 2 Has Begun

It's a big day for us.

Our first baby, long past his baby days, heads off to school for the first time.

Our youngest (and dare I say last?) baby officially sheds the baby title as he marks the end of his first year.

Whew.  I feel older just typing that.

The plan is to leave Darwin with my mother-in-law, drop the twins off with my sister and then Julie and I will take Jameson to his first day of school.

Immediately afterwards we'll head to the closest bar (yes, in the middle of the day) to celebrate our good fortune.  Or cry in our beers.  Or both.

Jedi Mind Tricks

Truman and Amelia love to get into silly arguments and fights. No subject or object seems to be off limits. Even imaginary ones (which I'll get to in a moment) are fair game. I'm not surprised and I'm pretty sure it's especially common among siblings that are close in age (or in this case, the exact same age). But even I have had to laugh at some of the things they've been arguing over lately.

One afternoon I was loading all of the kids into the minivan for some typical afternoon jaunt to the park, the grocery store, or some other routine destination.  I was putting Amelia in her seat while she jabbered away about who knows what.  As I finish buckling her seatbelt, she decides to announce, "I'm talking to dad."  Truman, who previously did not seem to be paying attention to her ramblings, shoots back, "Noooo, I'm talking to dad."  This, of course, quickly turns into a shouting match over who is in fact talking to dad.  At this point, I close the minivan door and head back into the house to get Jameson.  Back at the car, I slide open the door only to find that the argument has continued despite the fact that I've been nowhere near them for the last few minutes.  "No I'm talking to dad."  "NO, I'm talking to dad."  "NO, I'M TALKING TO DAD."

Just recently, Amelia banged up her shin while climbing some stone steps.  It wasn't too bad, but it left a nice little bruise.  The morning after her injury she's investigating her leg during breakfast.  She reminds me of her calamity saying, "I hurt my leg."  Not to be outdone, but without actually having an injury of his own, Truman also declares, "I hurt my leg." This infuriates Amelia and once again we are off to the races, this time with a shouting match of "I HURT MY LEG!!!"

Now this next altercation is the one that blows my mind.  This is the bottom of the barrel when it comes to pointless fights.  It's dinnertime and Truman and Amelia are seated in highchairs directly next to each other which puts them in arms reach of one another.  While watching dinner being prepared they begin to pretend that they each have a set of imaginary tongs in their hands.  IMAGINARY.  Neither of them actually have anything in their hands.  Nothing.  Everyone is being pleasant as Truman and Amelia interact with Mom and carry out various tasks with their imaginary tongs.  Until.  Until Amelia decides to "steal" Truman's imaginary tongs.  She grabs them out of his hand and then waves them in front of his face while chanting, "I've got your tongs.  I've got your tongs."  Truman gets upset, lunges for Amelia and grabs his imaginary tongs back while scolding, "NO MAYA."  This only encourages Amelia who quickly snatches the imaginary-invisible-nonexistent-ridiculously-not-real tongs again and starts up with her "I've got your tongs" taunt.  I cannot believe this is happening.  They are actually fighting over objects that are simply ideas conjured up in their little two year old brains.  But then it gets worse.  Truman swipes his imaginary tongs back from Amelia once again.  This time, however, she doesn't make a play to get them back from him.  At least not physically.  Which is pretty much impossible anyway since THEY'RE NOT REAL to begin with.  No, this time Amelia just looks over at him and says, "Truuuuuuman."  He looks up at her.  She starts moving her hand as if she's dangling something in the air.  "Truuuuman.  I've got your tonnnnngs."  He looks down at his already empty hands as if his nonexistent tongs had suddenly vanished into thin air.  And he flips out.  "NOOOOO, MAYA!!!!  MY TONGS!!!!"  He scrambles to get them back.  Before he has time to relish his reclaimed treasure Amelia summons them back into her hands and with the biggest, most evil grin on her face begins her taunts anew.  Realizing his tongs have been magically pilfered yet again, Truman flies into a rage while demanding I intervene.  "Daaaaaad.  Maya take my tongs!  No! No! No!"  I'm not even exactly sure what he wanted me to do.  Her knowledge of the Force is obviously great, but I had to step in and put an end to this.  So I just did what I usually do.  I took away both of their imaginary tongs and set them on top of the refrigerator until after dinner.  Then no one was happy.  Except me.

Can't wait to see what they'll fight over next.

Breasts and Nut Cups

Julie and I have had four kids in a little less than four years.  Not a remarkable feat but still a little different when compared to the average American family these days.  Hardly a day goes by that someone doesn't ask, "So how do you guys do it?"

And I always answer the same way:  With love and tenderness and a little Barry White playing in the background.

Hey-ohhhh!

Just try and delete that image from your head, friends and family!

Ahem.  Anyhow.  Having this many kids doesn't seem that out of the ordinary to me.  I myself am the oldest of five children.  And I come from a clan of prolific procreative Irish Catholics -- one aunt tops the charts at eleven kids.  Depending on who you ask, we've had a lot of kids relatively quickly.  Of course, having twins, a completely unexpected event, sped things up a little.  But, it is what is.  We have multiple offspring.

So how do we do it?

The real answer is:  We don't know.  We just do.

Lame, huh?

There's not really a good answer to that question.  You just do what you gotta do.  In so many ways, having multiple kids forces you to live in the moment.  The crying, the sharing, the barfing, the hugging, the fighting, the meals, the bedtimes, the trips, the stories, the questions, the revelations -- it all just keeps coming at you.  Each one a challenge and opportunity.  Each moment precious and fleeting.  It's kind of like being at the batting cages.  Whether you whiff or connect, you can't sit around analyzing or admiring your last swing for too long or you'll miss the next pitch.  You have to make adjustments on the fly, dig in and get ready for the next pitch.  Over and over again.

That's not to say you don't get better along the way by learning from your past performance.  Planning ahead is also beneficial.  And there are definitely tips, tricks and tools to help make the whole experience better.  Same goes for the other kind of "doing it" too, by the way.

Sorry.  I couldn't resist.

Maybe I'm really just dodging the whole question of how do we do it, but I will at least give you a list of the top five things that help get it done.

1. The Evenflo Travel Highchair

This is the single greatest purchase of my entire parenting experience.  It is especially key for anyone with multiples.  This beauty is lightweight, sturdy and ridiculously compact and easy to carry.  It works great indoors and out.  We have two of them and at least one of them is in the back of the minivan at all times.  They're so easy to open and the kids can be secured in one in seconds.  At picnics, they're the difference between chasing kids around trying to shove food down their throats and actually sitting down to enjoy a meal.  My kids would honestly weigh 24% less if we didn't have these high chairs.  When out, I have been asked by strangers about these high chairs more than I've been asked about my actual kids by at least a 3 to 1 ratio.


2. The Breasts



They're functional.  They're convenient.  Your wife always has them with her.  They never fail to sooth even the crankiest customer.

And they're not just for the dads.

Not every mother can or will breast-feed, but when available, they're indispensable.  Sure, bottles have their advantages, but it's hard to top breasts.  They provide the original comfort food and are damn near perfectly designed for feeding infants.  Breasts don't need to be sterilized, refilled, heated or prepped in any way.  You can't run out of breasts.  You can't lose breasts.  True, you can't borrow breasts in a pinch, but as long as mom's around, you also won't need to run out in the middle of the night to buy more breasts.

And best of all, dads don't have them, so it's the single parental duty that as a father you never have to handle.


3. The Bjorn

No, not Bjork.  Bjorn.



You only have so many hands.  (Well, two specifically.  I guess I don't need to be vague about the number of hands you have.)  Anyhow.  Regardless of the number of hands you have, eventually you need to stop carrying your tots and start strapping them to your body with a complex system of straps and pulleys.  There are a bazillion contraptions out there for affixing babies to your body parts and I certainly have not tried them all, but I have tried a few and none of them compared to the Baby Bjorn.  The things are so comfortable that you could probably strap one of those giant tabloid babies to your chest and still shoot a 79 from the black tees.  When your kids eventually outgrow it, the Baby Bjorn can also conveniently hold a mini keg.  Or so I've heard.


4. The Nut Cup


I've been bashed in the onions more times since having kids than I had been in all the previous 30 years of my life.  Seriously.  It's a near daily occurrence.  It's a wonder I was even able to have more kids after the first one.  First of all, all little kids have this fundamental design flaw of being just the right height for kicking your nards when you pick them up.  Secondly, they have no concept of genitalia pain, so running and jumping knees first into your lap doesn't register as a critical hit in their minds.  If you're a guy with kids, you might as well slip one of these in your shorts every night before going to bed.  Why before going to bed?  Because it's a statistical fact that 83% of all ball bombs come in the form of leaping children eager to wake you up in the morning via the pain train straight into your crotch.


5. The Red Bull



Red Bull.  Lots and lots of Red Bull.

Some time around my junior year in college, coffee completely lost it's ability to keep me awake.  Now I can drink coffee in bed and still fall right to sleep.  I need something with a little more kick if I'm to keep up with my pack of hell raisers.  Dozing on this job doesn't mean nodding off face first into a computer keyboard while hoping that the person in the next cubicle didn't hear you just type "asdfjjjjjjjj" with your left cheek bone.  On this job, snoozing means things get flushed down the toilet that shouldn't be flushed down the toilet.  It means someone experiments with cutting their own hair.  It means something expensive gets broken.

So bring on the Red Bull. It's not the trendiest and maybe not even the most effective.  But it's the original.  And it mixes damned well with Jägermeister.

Traveling with the Seven Dwarfs

Recently we took the family to Walt Disney World in Florida. Actually, it was Julie's parents that took us to Florida. It was quite the trip. Disney World is always fun and the kids had a blast. Unfortunately it was especially cold and rainy for the so-called "Sunshine State" and we all brought back more than souvenirs from the Germiest Place on Earth -- namely a nasty, nasty gastrointestinal virus and some lingering colds. Despite a week of diarrhea and vomiting that followed, the trip was worth it, in large part due to my wife's diligent planning before we left.

Not long ago, the Multiples and More website asked for tips about traveling with multiples. Having just done so, I've got some sage advice here for anyone heading to Disney World with multiple ankle biters.


Tips for Traveling with Multiple Kids

Tip #1: Leave the kids at home. Seriously. Like there's any amount of tips that can make major travel with a bunch of toddlers easy. Take the money you would have spent on plane tickets and theme park admission and hire a good babysitter.

Tip #2: If you're going to stay at a resort like Disney World, consider sending yourself a care package prior to arriving. It's cheaper than what the airlines charge for luggage and you'll save yourself the burden of carrying even more stuff to the airport and on the plane. If you're still insistent on bringing the kids on vacation, it might not be a bad idea to just ship them to the hotel, too.

Tip #3: OK, if you're going to ignore Tip #1 and go through with this, make sure you don't try to leave for your trip in the middle of a blizzard. There's nothing like planning on entertaining kids for two hours on a plane and then actually spending four hours on that plane. Not to mention, it's extra fun to load and unload the kids in and out of the car in two feet of snow.

Tip #4: Get your hillbilly on before going through security: strip your kids down to their diapers. Since two-year olds pose a major threat to national security, they will be required to get out of their strollers, remove their jackets and take off their shoes before being processed by security. I mean, since it's so easy to get multiple kids dressed in shoes and coats at home, doing it amid the chaos of an airport security gate should be a piece of cake, right? I say go all out and just let the kiddies follow you around the airport barefoot and in their diapers from the get go. Plus, it makes it easier to change their diapers on the chairs at the gate (see Tip #5) in front of everyone right before you get on the plane.

Tip #5: While waiting at the gate, nod your head and stare unblinkingly at random non-breeding passengers. It will put the fear of God in them as they visualize spending the next few hours of their lives trapped in a flying sardine can with your brood of germ carrying, seat kicking, scream machines. Might as well get your dirty looks in now -- you can be certain it will be a parade of dirty looks in your direction later as your fellow travelers consider how they would much rather be flying with card carrying al-Quaeda members since it's socially acceptable to tackle them if they get out of hand on a plane.

Tip #6: By the time you actually get your whole family and all your carry on luggage on the plane without the assistance of a single bystander, you'll probably be feeling a little stressed. A nice way to relax is by having a good laugh. I recommend taking one of the kids back to the airplane bathroom and checking out the baby changing tables. Hilarious! Tinkerbell couldn't change Tom Thumb's diaper on one of those things. Now quickly get back to your seat so you can continue praying that none of your kids drop a major deuce while mid-flight.

Tip #7: "I have had it with these motherf*%#ing kids on this motherf*%#ing plane!" No real tip here. I just hope you've amassed enough good karma points for a flight without diarrhea, vomiting, earaches or douchebag passengers that act worse than two year olds.

Tip #8: Remember that the flight was the easy part. Don't get sucked into a false sense of security as you exit the plane. Kids are dumb and they might have a hard time grasping the fact that the plane didn't just land at Disney World. You've still got luggage hauling, transportation arranging, and a long Mickey Mouse-less ride to your hotel. Have fun! Oh, and if you have the chance to opt for Disney's "Magical Express" service, do it. It's worth selling a kidney to afford it.

Tip #9: I hope you sent yourself that care package and it's waiting for you in your room. And I hope you included a bottle of vodka or rum in said package.

Tip #10: Disney only shows Disney owned television channels in their guest rooms, so that means no Yo Gabba Gabba fix for your two-year old and no after hours Cinemax for you. Pack accordingly.

Tip #11: When getting around the small metropolis otherwise known as Disney World via their expansive bus system, always make sure you GET ON THE RIGHT FRIGGIN' BUS. Because only a complete moron (or a husband and wife super moron team) would get on the wrong bus and turn a 5 minute ride to the Animal Kingdom into a forty minute tour of all the Disney parks you won't be visiting that day.

Tip #12: If you didn't listen to Tip #1, then remember you're doing this for the kids. And just keep telling yourself that you'll get to take a real vacation again when you're fifty. If you last that long.

Parenting Advice

Stare, often, at your children while they sleep. There is a certain bond revealed in those moments -- a bond that has been cultivated over thousands of years of evolution. It is not unlike that awe inspiring moment when humans stare into a pristine night sky, far from the obstruction of civilization's glow, and gaze upon the infinite expanse of the heavens. Those silent visual embraces with your children push you back and envelope you all at once.

And they remind you not to kill them when they're awake.

So Flossy

Jameson and I had dentist appointments again about a month ago. This was only Jameson's second visit to the dentist. I went out on a limb this time and scheduled our cleanings for the same time. That's not an insignificant detail. On his first visit, we had back to back appointments so that he could witness my cleaning and then get his teeth checked with me at his side. Let's face it, the dentist office can be an intimidating place for anyone, let alone a three year old on his first visit. This time, with simultaneous appointments, Jameson was going to be on his own. Granted, we would be in earshot of each other in our separate rooms across a small hallway, but I had my worries about how well he would handle it sans dad. Apparently my worries were unfounded. When they called our names, he took the lead heading back in the office. He asked what room I would be in and what room he would be in and then headed straight for his chair without me. I was slightly amazed at his confidence (and a little saddened by his independence). I don't remember ever being all that scared of visiting the dentist as a child, but I don't think I had Jameson's confidence, either. I must say I was more than a little proud of how well he handled the entire visit. It helps that our dentist, Dr. Greg Buerschen, is really good with kids and those of us that like to talk. Jameson is, of course, both. Jameson often mentions Dr. Greg while brushing his teeth at night and will comment about how impressed Dr. Greg is going to be when he checks his teeth next time. Jameson is very thorough about his oral hygiene. Our typical nighttime routine involves Jameson with a solo round of brushing followed by me taking a second go at removing all the "sugar bugs." Jameson is also down with the flossing. He really likes keeping his teeth clean. It's one habit I hope he never outgrows.

His flossing style is... interesting.



Jameson insisted that I take a picture of the inside of his mouth when he was done brushing his teeth. Upon seeing the result he cackled and exclaimed, "That's the grossest thing I've ever seen! Let's go show mom and scare her!"

Question of the Week: Small Successes

Every Sunday, the Multiples and More blog poses a "question of the week." This week they want you to "name 5 small successes in your life from the past week." In other words, what were your victories? What did you get right?

Most successes in my life are the direct result of serendipitous luck or divine spousal intervention. I'm sure any successes from the past week were similarly had, but who knows, maybe I did actually accomplish something myself. Let's see what ended up in the win column...

1. Poopless Beds - I wouldn't even call this a small success. This might be our greatest accomplishment of the last six months. The solution was simple: putting Truman and Amelia's zip up pajamas on backwards. (Thank you for that lifesaving tip, Angie. Have you ever considered starting your own blog?) Of course, as the laws of nature require, every action has an opposite and equal reaction. Since the twins can no longer spend their mornings smearing poo all over their beds, they have redirected their efforts towards mastering the art of vacating their cribs with nary a sound. And then of course removing every single item of clothing from their dressers. Every single item. But hey, I'd rather refold clothes than swab shit any day. Oh wait... there was the carpet caca incident... I'll let Julie tell that one. No poop in the bed is still a victory.


2. Showing of the House - We finally had a house showing on Sunday. That's a success in and of itself, but I didn't really have anything to do with it. Getting the house ready for a showing -- now that's a monumental triumph. Technically Julie deserves 95% of the thanks on this win, but I will take a little bit of the credit. Sometimes just staying out of the way and not impeding progress is the best contribution I can make. I'm good at doing the heavy lifting and the jobs that involve power tools. And if a task requires a discerning eye and attention to detail and hours of refinement -- I'm your man. However, if you need brute force, "good enough" cleaning -- like cleaning an entire room from top to bottom in 20 minutes -- I'm the key ingredient in the recipe for failure. For example, consider a bookshelf that needs a touch up. I can't just straighten the books and dust it off. I need to remove all the books, dust and polish, and replace the books organized by subject, author, size and color. So when it comes to preparing our house for a showing, my "help" can easily become a hinderance. This weekend though, I didn't get picky about cleaning projects and I handled the brunt of keeping the kids fed and out of the way. Like I said, Julie gets most of the credit, but I'm still counting it as one of my successes.


3. Answering the Call of Duty - I completed the single player mode in the new Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. I know, awesome, right? It took several hours (though a real gamer could probably complete it in a couple of hours) but I'm old and any game that uses more than two buttons is technically out of my generation's wheelhouse. Now, I know what you're thinking -- beating a video game is a success? Well, yes, it is. The mere fact that I fed, bathed, played with, read to and put to bed the kids and still had time to play a video game is some kind of success. Granted, the time spent in front of the TV could have been spent on the treadmill and my inactivity probably contributed further to my ever increasing atmospheric displacement. Wait, was this a success? Hmmm. Well, I was drinking Michelob Ultra while I shot up the terrorists. I'm counting it. Sorry, my list isn't open to appeals.


4. Page Turning - OK, this is the smallest of victories. I read a few pages of the book I've been trying to tackle for months. To a normal human this would not be a success, but seeing as how I go weeks or months without reading anything beyond my computer monitor, I'm definitely counting a few turned pages as a positive. I'll be working on this more and more in the coming weeks. I used to be an avid reader, back in the day, but unfortunately it's an indulgence that's fallen by the wayside. In fact, I read so little now that even when I do set aside time to read, I find myself rereading pages two and three times because I can't stay focused. I've lost the ability to shut down and immerse myself in a book. My mind constantly wanders. I'll get back there, though. Someday.


5. Early to Bed - This was an unexpected success. Despite years of bad parenting, Jameson went to bed early (before 9:00) twice this week. Hopefully this is an oft repeated success. Jameson is our hard one to get to sleep at night. He's a night owl, like his mom and dad. Let's face it, he's our first born and we didn't know what the hell we were doing in the early parenting days. Kids need schedules? What? That's crazy talk! Well, anyway, Jameson has had the privilege of being our guinea pig offspring and now routinely stays up until ten or eleven o'clock at night. Sometimes later. Things have progressively gotten better. He goes to sleep much quicker than he used to (in the early days it would sometimes take over an hour to get the kid to sleep) and we're slowly moving up his bedtime. That's a good thing for us and eventually it's going to be a necessity once he starts school. So two nights this week asleep before nine o'clock is definitely a success.

So what an awesome week, eh? Can't wait to see what earth shattering accomplishments I'll be bragging about next week. Maybe it will include more treadmill and less gaming.

I'm Sick of Shit

I'm sick of shit. Cleaning it, that is. I won't go into the details, but Truman and Amelia have removed their poopy diapers while in their cribs on no less than six different occasions in the last week. I'm tired of it. I have no idea what compels them. Jameson did not prepare me for this aspect of parenthood. It's ridiculous.

So I'm doing what any good father would do. I'm prostituting the twins. I've entered them in the Mulitples and More photo contest with the hopes of winning some baby swag. The prizes are mostly things for which I have no use, but I'll be damned if these crib-pooping twins don't owe me something. They need to prove their worth. They have no idea how close to sleeping in the bathtub their feces smearing ways have gotten them. This is their chance to redeem themselves.

Now this is where you come in. You need to vote for them. It won't be easy -- the competition is stiff. Even those smug little Donovan Quads are entered. I bet they think they've got this contest wrapped up with their oh so cute Goldilocks and the Three Bears ensemble. Hmmph. We'll see about that Nater, Miss Mimi, Evan and Nolan! I hope you brought your "A" game!

So get out there and vote. I want free stuff. And I want to be able to tell people that their kids are ugly compared to mine. I deserve it at least as much as Truman and Amelia deserve pajamas made out of trash bags and duct tape.

To vote, send an email to multiplesphotocontest@gmail.com and tell them you think ENTRY #53 has the cutest damned crib-pooping multiples you've ever seen. ONE VOTE per email address. Votes will be accepted until 8 pm EST, Sunday, November 8th. The top 40 will be announced on Monday.

Zzzzz

Today I pushed two kitchen chairs together so I could lay on them and catch a 5 minute nap while the kids ate lunch.

I am such an awesome father and role model.

I Went a Little Camera Crazy

I'm quickly realizing that rule number one of successful parenting is wear out your kids. Send them outside and run them like sled dogs. It solves so many problems. It takes the fight out of them. It makes dinner and bedtime a breeze. It fights boredom. It makes the time fly.

One of the greatest satisfactions of parenting is pouring an exhausted toddler into bed at night a half an hour early without so much as a whimper of protest. Bam. They're out cold for the night. I took my own advice the other day, taking advantage of unbelievably warm weather, and carted the kids over to my parents' tree covered, oversized backyard.

Have I mentioned that I think Fall is the bestest time of the year? As if my season crush wasn't strong enough, you can add to it one more thing: the simple fact that there are leaves on the ground will give small children hours of no-mess, enough-to-go-around-for-everyone entertainment.

I also took advantage of the warmer weather by going a little camera crazy on the kids while they played in the leaves. I hadn't gone full on photo shoot with them in awhile so I was a little trigger happy. Sorry if I just like totally killed your bandwidth.

This was earlier in the morning before it warmed up.
Not sure why Truman is hamming it up all of a sudden.


Yeah, I'm watching you boys.



Yes, Andersen, I will be taking your picture all day.


Run, son, RUN! Keep running! Are you tired? Run some more!


Maverick and Goose


Leaves! Hell yeah!




You get buried in the leaves, you jump out of the leaves.
You get buried in the leaves, you jump...


Truman likes to make rapid messes. Legos, leaves, macaroni and cheese... whatever.


I'm on a leaf pile, motherf#%er!


Still getting buried in the leaves. Still jumping out of the leaves.


I'm buried, right? No one can see me, right? Hello?


I been goin' so leaf crazy my hat's all crooked. Damn!


Leaves. Are. So. Awesome.


If you gots to get leaves out of your pants, you gots to get leaves out of your pants.


We play hard, we eat ice cream hard.


This may look like an upset child.
What you're actually viewing is a child that is exhausted and all in favor of an early bedtime. Success!


Spaghetti for dinner. Gotta carbo-load for the next day.


Take me to bed!

I Don't Care If It's Below Zero...

The weather here in Ohio has quickly changed from pleasant to... intrusive. Trips to the backyard now require jackets and hats. And, in what I'm starting to notice is some sort of strange annual weather cycle, things will only get worse.

So what's a stay at home parent to do? Sanity was often maintained this summer by trekking over to the park or at least kicking it in the backyard rather than engaging in another battle royal in the family room. Those options are going to be off the table in a couple of months (or sooner). At the very least they'll require an hour and a half of searching for and suiting up shoes, socks, coats, hats and gloves. So how does one stave off cabin fever in the winter months with a house full of restless children?