I’m conflicted about the boys growing up. On one hand, they are great at the minute and part of me wants them to stay that cute forever. That part of me is not keen on sharing a house with two smelly teenage boys. That part wants the relatively uncomplicated relationship where everything can be smoothed over with a bottle.
Then there is the other part. The competitive part of me wants my boys to be bigger, stronger, faster, smarter and generally better than all their peers. The competitive part wants them playing piano concerto’s by the time they are three and dunking a basketball by the time they are nine [I never claimed that the competitive part of me had reasonable expectations!] The competitive part certainly wants them to have more than a dozen, mostly mispronounced, words in their vocabulary by the time they are two. That is where we stand with just over three months to their second birthday though.
I know the rational arguments for not getting too bothered about it, that twins normally speak later than singletons [that word never sits well with me but they use it a lot of articles about twins so I’m going to run with it] and that all kids take their own time about developing but I do get a little impatient with the lack of conversation. I think that they get frustrated themselves too. Since they can’t say “I don’t want the blue brick you clown, pass me the green ball behind you” they just scream and gesture as I pass them every object within reach except the green ball.
The list of words includes; hello, no, bye bye, NO, more, NNOOOO, choo choo, quack, NO, Mama, bo-bo [meaning bottle] and one or two others. Then they have the master word – Nahneh. This has come to mean; mama, Hannah, nana, I want that and, most annoyingly, dad.
Fat Chops is especially fond of it and has been known to repeat it over and over and over to get your attention. Having your full attention is not a deterrent for him, he will just continue to call you and if you happen to be holding him while he is calling you, he will pat you repeatedly on the face with each “Nahneh” just to make sure you couldn’t possibly think about something else.
The other day I took a stand and decided it was time he learned how to say Dada, leading to this exchange;
Fat Chops: Nahneh [beckoning me to follow him]
Karlos: Say Dada.
FC: Dada [with an “if you insist” expression]
Karlos: Good boy.
FC: Nahneh [beckoning for me to follow him again]
Karlos: My name is Dada
FC: Nahneh, nahneh, nahneh [getting impatient that I haven’t followed him yet]
Karlos: My name is Dada
FC: Nahneh
Karlos: Dada [pointing at my chest]
FC: Dada [pointing at his chest wondering what I am rattling on about]]
I gave up soon after that, not because I’m a quitter but because I felt guilty when he started copying me as I banged my head off the wall in frustration. Guess he will get there in his own time!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Showing Off
All parents are guilty of this, we all love to show off our children. I am worst than most in this regard. I am so convinced that my boys are so much cuter and funnier than other children that I’ve felt obliged to write a blog. In my mind, I am providing a public service for those poor souls who can’t experience the daily joys of spending time with my boys [by the way, you’re welcome]. Fact is though, all parents partake in the baby Olympics and most of us try to teach them some party tricks for special occasions.
The best part is that you don’t have to work on anything complex to impress people. Any mundane task is inherently funnier when it is done by a small child and even more so when there are two matching children. A couple of weeks ago I was driving along and Fat Chops starting singing away to himself. It’s not uncommon to see people do this while this stuck in traffic and it’s only mildly amusing unless they have forgotten that other people can see them and they are belting out their favourite power ballad with much gusto. It’s funny when it is done by a small child. It’s even funnier when that small child has his finger up his nose as far as the second knuckle [another all too common sight while sitting in traffic!]
The old reliable that always raises a smile is the cheesy grin. It evolved from when they cut their first teeth and used to scrunch their face up and bare the first buds of their teeth for admiration from Aunts, Uncles and Grandparents. Now it comes out every time that someone points a camera in their direction. It’s far from photogenic but it means that I have lots of material for the slideshow at their 21st birthday/graduation/wedding.
Lately the boys are in a phase of “Monkey Boy see, Monkey Boy do” making them great students for little party tricks. Hannah was watching MTV a couple of weeks ago when Beyonce’s Single Ladies video came on. She was dancing around with the boys and started imitating some of the moves. Before you could say “wannabe”, the boys were waving their hands in the air to show where the diamonds should go. The way that the boys dance gets me every time. They love the music and have some rhythm but they don’t quite have the requisite co-ordination just yet. Instead we get a half squatting position, a nappy being swung from side to side and two little fists pumping the air.
My favourite by a long way is “The Guns”. We were drying the boys after a bath a couple of weeks ago and for no good reason I thought that it would be fun to see if the boys would do the traditional body builder pose and show off their huge arms. I demonstrated first, flexed the biceps and posed. Then I held the boys arms up to see if they would do it. Fat Chops wasn’t too fussed, he is happy enough with the attention he gets for his cheesy grin. Monkey Boy exceeded my greatest hopes though. Not only did he strike the pose but his knuckles went white, he was clenching his fists so hard. The cherry on top was the fact that he gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow and grimaced as if struggling with a heavy weight. I nearly choked with laughter!
Has anyone got any tips for other little tricks I can try teach them? You can comment below or else I can be reached on;
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Adventures-of-Fat-Chops-and-Monkey-Boy#!/pages/The-Adventures-of-Fat-Chops-and-Monkey-Boy/103930629654103?ref=sgm
mailto: fatchopsmonkeyboy@gmail.com
The best part is that you don’t have to work on anything complex to impress people. Any mundane task is inherently funnier when it is done by a small child and even more so when there are two matching children. A couple of weeks ago I was driving along and Fat Chops starting singing away to himself. It’s not uncommon to see people do this while this stuck in traffic and it’s only mildly amusing unless they have forgotten that other people can see them and they are belting out their favourite power ballad with much gusto. It’s funny when it is done by a small child. It’s even funnier when that small child has his finger up his nose as far as the second knuckle [another all too common sight while sitting in traffic!]
The old reliable that always raises a smile is the cheesy grin. It evolved from when they cut their first teeth and used to scrunch their face up and bare the first buds of their teeth for admiration from Aunts, Uncles and Grandparents. Now it comes out every time that someone points a camera in their direction. It’s far from photogenic but it means that I have lots of material for the slideshow at their 21st birthday/graduation/wedding.
Lately the boys are in a phase of “Monkey Boy see, Monkey Boy do” making them great students for little party tricks. Hannah was watching MTV a couple of weeks ago when Beyonce’s Single Ladies video came on. She was dancing around with the boys and started imitating some of the moves. Before you could say “wannabe”, the boys were waving their hands in the air to show where the diamonds should go. The way that the boys dance gets me every time. They love the music and have some rhythm but they don’t quite have the requisite co-ordination just yet. Instead we get a half squatting position, a nappy being swung from side to side and two little fists pumping the air.
My favourite by a long way is “The Guns”. We were drying the boys after a bath a couple of weeks ago and for no good reason I thought that it would be fun to see if the boys would do the traditional body builder pose and show off their huge arms. I demonstrated first, flexed the biceps and posed. Then I held the boys arms up to see if they would do it. Fat Chops wasn’t too fussed, he is happy enough with the attention he gets for his cheesy grin. Monkey Boy exceeded my greatest hopes though. Not only did he strike the pose but his knuckles went white, he was clenching his fists so hard. The cherry on top was the fact that he gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow and grimaced as if struggling with a heavy weight. I nearly choked with laughter!
Has anyone got any tips for other little tricks I can try teach them? You can comment below or else I can be reached on;
http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Adventures-of-Fat-Chops-and-Monkey-Boy#!/pages/The-Adventures-of-Fat-Chops-and-Monkey-Boy/103930629654103?ref=sgm
mailto: fatchopsmonkeyboy@gmail.com
I've asked Tamba to post a link to the blog and they kindly agreed as long as I posted a return link so here it is.
Lot's of great advice for parents of twins on there.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Poles Apart
We are lucky enough to live in an area where all the houses face on to a communal green area. There are a lot of young families in the area and now that the summer is here, that green area is filled with children in the evenings. My boys are always curious to see what the other kids are up to. Well, maybe it's curiousity or maybe it's the fact that the road is strewn with scooters, bikes and go karts belonging to the older kids and the boys fancy a little bit of joy-riding. Either way, it's a relatively easy way for me to amuse them in the evenings.
I say relatively because typically, as soon as I open the door, the boys will toddle out and head off to see what they can take a spin on but never, ever will they head off in the same direction. This means that I spend the time trying to keep track of two small boys who are determined not to come within a hundred yards of each other. All I can do is prioritise and stay closer to the twin that is nearer the front of the estate and therefore more likely to be confronted by a car [thankfully there is no through traffic and most drivers are aware of all the children and have no appetite to run one over].
As I was gradually going cross eyed, I wondered why they rarely played together and the old phrase "opposites attract" came to mind. No, I am not thinking about match making for the boys yet but I am talking about the more scientific usage of the phrase. [As an aside, Monkey Boy took a shine to one of the girls out on the green tonight. He gave his best grin, waved and then waddled over as if to hug her. She took a couple of steps back but he was not deterred. He persisted in following her all the way across the green while she trotted off, looking nervously over her shoulder. Reminds me of my dating days!!]
Anyway, back to physics - from my vague memories of leaving cert, the phrase "opposites attract" normally applies to magnets. I see the twins as similar poles and therefore destined not to occupy the same space for very long. It is, at best, a questionable theory but could go some way to explaining why they fight so much.
These are the meandering thoughts that I have trying to explain the reasons for their fights. It's the best that I can come up with because there are often very few clues to work with. For example, earlier this evening I opened the back door to let them go out and play. Inexplicably they both stopped at the door and looked at each other. After a moment, Fat Chops took a couple of steps out into the garden. Monkey took exception to this, followed him out, shouted something unintelligible at him and slapped him squarely in the chest. Fat Chops replied with a primal scream and a flurry of lefts and rights that completely took the fight out of his brother. After a brief hesitation while I thought what a good post this brawl could make, I separated them and tried to simultaneously calm one and console the other.
I've opened an e-mail account and a facebook page so any comments, queries or feedback can be directed to;
fatchopsmonkeyboy@gmail.com
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/The-Adventures-of-Fat-Chops-and-Monkey-Boy/103930629654103?ref=sgm
I say relatively because typically, as soon as I open the door, the boys will toddle out and head off to see what they can take a spin on but never, ever will they head off in the same direction. This means that I spend the time trying to keep track of two small boys who are determined not to come within a hundred yards of each other. All I can do is prioritise and stay closer to the twin that is nearer the front of the estate and therefore more likely to be confronted by a car [thankfully there is no through traffic and most drivers are aware of all the children and have no appetite to run one over].
As I was gradually going cross eyed, I wondered why they rarely played together and the old phrase "opposites attract" came to mind. No, I am not thinking about match making for the boys yet but I am talking about the more scientific usage of the phrase. [As an aside, Monkey Boy took a shine to one of the girls out on the green tonight. He gave his best grin, waved and then waddled over as if to hug her. She took a couple of steps back but he was not deterred. He persisted in following her all the way across the green while she trotted off, looking nervously over her shoulder. Reminds me of my dating days!!]
Anyway, back to physics - from my vague memories of leaving cert, the phrase "opposites attract" normally applies to magnets. I see the twins as similar poles and therefore destined not to occupy the same space for very long. It is, at best, a questionable theory but could go some way to explaining why they fight so much.
These are the meandering thoughts that I have trying to explain the reasons for their fights. It's the best that I can come up with because there are often very few clues to work with. For example, earlier this evening I opened the back door to let them go out and play. Inexplicably they both stopped at the door and looked at each other. After a moment, Fat Chops took a couple of steps out into the garden. Monkey took exception to this, followed him out, shouted something unintelligible at him and slapped him squarely in the chest. Fat Chops replied with a primal scream and a flurry of lefts and rights that completely took the fight out of his brother. After a brief hesitation while I thought what a good post this brawl could make, I separated them and tried to simultaneously calm one and console the other.
I've opened an e-mail account and a facebook page so any comments, queries or feedback can be directed to;
fatchopsmonkeyboy@gmail.com
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/pages/The-Adventures-of-Fat-Chops-and-Monkey-Boy/103930629654103?ref=sgm
Monday, June 14, 2010
Not on my watch.
Monkey Boy took a spill today. He fell off the top of a slide. There is a rumour that Fat Chops may have helped him fall but that is as yet unconfirmed. This is not more evidence that I am a bad parent, it happened while they were with the child-minder this afternoon. The evidence that I am a parent is that when I should have been concerned for his welfare I was busy being relieved that it didn't happen on my watch!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Sleepless Night 2 – Doze Hard
[If you haven’t read Sleepless Night this post will make more sense if you read that one first]
Cardinal rules normally earn that status for very, very good reasons. I broke one on Tuesday night so I paid dearly for it on Wednesday.
Monkey Boy obviously enjoyed his spell in our bed so much that he was keen to repeat it. It certainly wasn’t down to Fat Chops snoring last night. He was sleeping like a… well, he was very peaceful. Monkey Boy didn’t settle well in the first place but at about 2am he started to let us know that the relays were starting early tonight. We played it by the book more or less. When we went in, we didn’t talk to him and didn’t cuddle him, we just lay him down and left the room. Ideally, we would have left him to cry it out but that’s a really tricky one when you have twins sharing a room. Why should we let him upset Fat Chops? We persevered and after about 20 minutes or so [we were both bleary eyed by this stage so it could have been an hour for all I know, I’m pretty sure that I was as close to sleep walking as I ever have been] he settled and we drifted off.
It turns out that we had only succeeded in thwarting the first attempt. I have mentioned before how persistent Monkey Boy is and at about 4am he had another go. I wasn’t really functioning that well but Hannah was slightly more lucid and suggested that we take another tack. We set up a travel cot in the box room and put him in that and closed the door leaving him to cry it out. He didn’t like that one bit! It is not at all pleasant hearing your son scream so loud that the windows rattled but we tried our best to ignore it reminding ourselves that we need to break the habit now to avoid a horrible future of a seven year old sleeping between us and wetting our bed.
The tantrum went on for almost ten minutes and he ticked all the boxes; howling, screaming, thumping the wall. As I was reaching for my iPod to drown out the din, it finally started to abate. That’s when we heard a loud thump. Myself and Hannah sat bolt upright and did a Looney Toons style double take. Before we had time to go and check we heard the door handle creaking. I know I wasn’t thinking clearly at that stage but I laugh now when I look back at my thought process. Did we have someone staying with us that I forgot about? Was it a burglar? Was it a ghost? Unfortunately, as Sherlock Holmes famously said, “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth”. The truth was, that despite being barely able to see over the top of the travel cot, my resourceful son had managed to scale it. We opened our bedroom door and there was our little mountaineer. He managed to look quite pleased with himself despite standing there in an ill fitting sleep-suit, red-eyed with tears and snot running down his face.
When I last left him, he was trying to reach up with his leg but I was confident that he was still a couple of inches short. I would have loved to see how he managed it and am very curious as to what part of his body he landed on. Head and hands are the joint favourites, feet first is an outside bet!
We were tired, we were confused and we were clean out of ideas on what to do with him so we took him into our bed again and I hugged him tight enough to make it clear that even though he had completely outwitted us, we were taking consolation in the fact that there would be no wriggling around tonight. I will be lowering the base of his cot tonight [Hannah won’t allow me put barbed wire around the top of it] and moving it to the box room until we break this habit.
This morning I have been wondering about the nickname that I chose for my first born. He was dubbed Monkey Boy because he had a cheeky glint in his eye from the day he was born. Has he taken the moniker as a challenge? A title that he has to earn by his exploits? It might not be the case but the title certainly suits him!
Cardinal rules normally earn that status for very, very good reasons. I broke one on Tuesday night so I paid dearly for it on Wednesday.
Monkey Boy obviously enjoyed his spell in our bed so much that he was keen to repeat it. It certainly wasn’t down to Fat Chops snoring last night. He was sleeping like a… well, he was very peaceful. Monkey Boy didn’t settle well in the first place but at about 2am he started to let us know that the relays were starting early tonight. We played it by the book more or less. When we went in, we didn’t talk to him and didn’t cuddle him, we just lay him down and left the room. Ideally, we would have left him to cry it out but that’s a really tricky one when you have twins sharing a room. Why should we let him upset Fat Chops? We persevered and after about 20 minutes or so [we were both bleary eyed by this stage so it could have been an hour for all I know, I’m pretty sure that I was as close to sleep walking as I ever have been] he settled and we drifted off.
It turns out that we had only succeeded in thwarting the first attempt. I have mentioned before how persistent Monkey Boy is and at about 4am he had another go. I wasn’t really functioning that well but Hannah was slightly more lucid and suggested that we take another tack. We set up a travel cot in the box room and put him in that and closed the door leaving him to cry it out. He didn’t like that one bit! It is not at all pleasant hearing your son scream so loud that the windows rattled but we tried our best to ignore it reminding ourselves that we need to break the habit now to avoid a horrible future of a seven year old sleeping between us and wetting our bed.
The tantrum went on for almost ten minutes and he ticked all the boxes; howling, screaming, thumping the wall. As I was reaching for my iPod to drown out the din, it finally started to abate. That’s when we heard a loud thump. Myself and Hannah sat bolt upright and did a Looney Toons style double take. Before we had time to go and check we heard the door handle creaking. I know I wasn’t thinking clearly at that stage but I laugh now when I look back at my thought process. Did we have someone staying with us that I forgot about? Was it a burglar? Was it a ghost? Unfortunately, as Sherlock Holmes famously said, “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth”. The truth was, that despite being barely able to see over the top of the travel cot, my resourceful son had managed to scale it. We opened our bedroom door and there was our little mountaineer. He managed to look quite pleased with himself despite standing there in an ill fitting sleep-suit, red-eyed with tears and snot running down his face.
When I last left him, he was trying to reach up with his leg but I was confident that he was still a couple of inches short. I would have loved to see how he managed it and am very curious as to what part of his body he landed on. Head and hands are the joint favourites, feet first is an outside bet!
We were tired, we were confused and we were clean out of ideas on what to do with him so we took him into our bed again and I hugged him tight enough to make it clear that even though he had completely outwitted us, we were taking consolation in the fact that there would be no wriggling around tonight. I will be lowering the base of his cot tonight [Hannah won’t allow me put barbed wire around the top of it] and moving it to the box room until we break this habit.
This morning I have been wondering about the nickname that I chose for my first born. He was dubbed Monkey Boy because he had a cheeky glint in his eye from the day he was born. Has he taken the moniker as a challenge? A title that he has to earn by his exploits? It might not be the case but the title certainly suits him!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Sleepless Night
Being a parent is tough. Most people assume that being a parent of twins is twice as tough but that can be understating it, especially in the early days when they are completely dependent on you. I have to admit that now they are toddlers, there are “economies of scale” and sometimes they even amuse each other and give you a break. This is mostly balanced out by the time that you spend breaking up fights and ensuring that all their hair remains attached to their heads.
Being a parent is also the most rewarding thing that I have ever done so to me, all of the effort, the restrictions on your lifestyle and the impact on your wallet are a reasonable trade off. What I can’t get used to is those times when the boys don’t feel like sleeping through the night.
Last night was one of those nights. Fat Chops has been carrying a bit of a head cold and was snoring like a septuagenarian with a sinus infection last night. Monkey Boy was not a bit happy with it and wasn’t shy about letting us know. Hannah tried to settle him a couple of times to no avail before she not-so-gently kicked me to let me know it was my turn to try and coax him back to sleep.
I have to come clean here and admit that I am a very heavy sleeper and my wife is not. Most of the time she finds it easier to get up to them herself than to get a sensible response from me. I don’t expect a lot of sympathy from other parents who all deal with it and I don’t deserve it because I have slept through most of the night time disturbances. Mainly, I’m coming clean because she will make me suffer if I as much as imply that I have lost out on a lot of sleep since the boys were born and I will again be forced to look at the photograph where I am ”resting my eyes” while I was supposed to be changing nappies when the boys first came home from hospital.
I think it was about half past three when myself and Hannah started doing relays to try and settle Monkey Boy down. It was probably about four when we gave up and took him into the bed with us. I know we broke a cardinal rule of parenting but I never claimed to be good at this fatherhood lark. We probably could have survived the half hour interruption and been able to function at a reasonable level today but Monkey Boy had other ideas. He had about seven hours sleep under his belt at this stage and the batteries were almost fully charged. In his mind it was playtime.
I love getting down on the floor with the boys and having a laugh but the sky was starting to brighten and I was conscious of an important meeting that was starting at 8am. We tried to play possum but Monkey Boy is nothing if not persistent and he went from one of us to the other for the guts of an hour being told to lie down and go asleep with increasing levels of grumpiness and frustration.
It is these moments that you wonder about the wisdom of teaching them “wakey wakey” game, whereby you pretend to be asleep and the boys slap you about the face until you jump up with mock surprise. You regret laughing so heartily and encouraging them to throw themselves around the bed. He tried every cute trick in the book to get our attention from tickling to hair pulling and on one occasion, launching himself head first into my stomach with a panache that would make any WWE wrestler proud.
Eventually, I “hugged” him - I can’t lie, I pretty much lay on top of him until he gave up so that we could at least get a couple of hours sleep before facing the already dawning day. Shortly after this, Fat Chops somehow sensed he was alone in his room and insisted on joining our little pyjama party.
Connected with me being a heavy sleeper is fact that I am a horrible morning person. My colleagues know not to approach me until I have had my coffee, even the part timers who start at 1pm. One of the many ways that being a parent changes you is that no matter how bad a night you have had or how tired you are, you just can’t sustain that grumpiness when your son looks at you and grins a good morning greeting.
Being a parent is also the most rewarding thing that I have ever done so to me, all of the effort, the restrictions on your lifestyle and the impact on your wallet are a reasonable trade off. What I can’t get used to is those times when the boys don’t feel like sleeping through the night.
Last night was one of those nights. Fat Chops has been carrying a bit of a head cold and was snoring like a septuagenarian with a sinus infection last night. Monkey Boy was not a bit happy with it and wasn’t shy about letting us know. Hannah tried to settle him a couple of times to no avail before she not-so-gently kicked me to let me know it was my turn to try and coax him back to sleep.
I have to come clean here and admit that I am a very heavy sleeper and my wife is not. Most of the time she finds it easier to get up to them herself than to get a sensible response from me. I don’t expect a lot of sympathy from other parents who all deal with it and I don’t deserve it because I have slept through most of the night time disturbances. Mainly, I’m coming clean because she will make me suffer if I as much as imply that I have lost out on a lot of sleep since the boys were born and I will again be forced to look at the photograph where I am ”resting my eyes” while I was supposed to be changing nappies when the boys first came home from hospital.
I think it was about half past three when myself and Hannah started doing relays to try and settle Monkey Boy down. It was probably about four when we gave up and took him into the bed with us. I know we broke a cardinal rule of parenting but I never claimed to be good at this fatherhood lark. We probably could have survived the half hour interruption and been able to function at a reasonable level today but Monkey Boy had other ideas. He had about seven hours sleep under his belt at this stage and the batteries were almost fully charged. In his mind it was playtime.
I love getting down on the floor with the boys and having a laugh but the sky was starting to brighten and I was conscious of an important meeting that was starting at 8am. We tried to play possum but Monkey Boy is nothing if not persistent and he went from one of us to the other for the guts of an hour being told to lie down and go asleep with increasing levels of grumpiness and frustration.
It is these moments that you wonder about the wisdom of teaching them “wakey wakey” game, whereby you pretend to be asleep and the boys slap you about the face until you jump up with mock surprise. You regret laughing so heartily and encouraging them to throw themselves around the bed. He tried every cute trick in the book to get our attention from tickling to hair pulling and on one occasion, launching himself head first into my stomach with a panache that would make any WWE wrestler proud.
Eventually, I “hugged” him - I can’t lie, I pretty much lay on top of him until he gave up so that we could at least get a couple of hours sleep before facing the already dawning day. Shortly after this, Fat Chops somehow sensed he was alone in his room and insisted on joining our little pyjama party.
Connected with me being a heavy sleeper is fact that I am a horrible morning person. My colleagues know not to approach me until I have had my coffee, even the part timers who start at 1pm. One of the many ways that being a parent changes you is that no matter how bad a night you have had or how tired you are, you just can’t sustain that grumpiness when your son looks at you and grins a good morning greeting.
Mini Bullet
We called in to my mother in laws house this evening and The Wag was there. Determined to make amends for her mistake at the weekend she took a good long look at the boys before saying "Hi Monkey Boy".
Yes, of course it was Fat Chops.
Her boyfriend is really going to enjoy this one.
Yes, of course it was Fat Chops.
Her boyfriend is really going to enjoy this one.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Bank Holiday Bullets
This is not a post about the escalation of hostilities between the boys and their graduation to the use of weapons. One of my favourite bloggers, Henry Abbot of True Hoop, posts daily bullets bringing together news stories from around the NBA in a series of little snippets and one liners which nicely summarise what is going on in the world of NBA basketball. Tonight I am paying homage to [plagiarising] him by using that device. My reasons are different though. I'm tired after a fun filled bank holiday weekend and I'm not a good enough writer to weave any of these small ideas into a longer post.
- Approximately 84% of the time [and remember, 62% of stats are made up on the spot] the first question you will be asked after you reveal that you are the parent of identical twins is "how do you tell them apart?". There are loads of small ways of keeping track, dress them slightly differently, a freckle here, a facial expression there. It's by no means easy though and I enjoy people's confusion. We were on our way to Hannah's aunt's annual barbeque on Sunday and Hannah's sister, The Wag, drove with her boyfriend to our house so that we could drive in convoy. The boys were already in the car and The Wag stuck her head in the door to say hello. She greeted Monkey Boy and started chattering away. Her boyfriend [who only sees them occasionally] then suggested that maybe she was talking to Fat Chops only to be firmly told, with no small measure of indignation, "I know how to tell them apart!!". For those keeping score at home, pride still comes before a fall and she had gotten it wrong. Full credit to her for checking through the entire list of distinguishing features before begrudgingly admitting her mistake.
- Breakfast this morning was was fun too. I will normally give the boys Cheerio's to nibble on to allow me some peace and quiet to prepare their breakfast. I put them into two cups and set them down on the floor as usual. Monkey Boy tucked in straight away but Fat Chops continued playing in the dining room. MB managed to empty the first cup before FC came looking for his cup. Monkey Boy handed him an empty cup with a shrug that suggested that Daddy was completely incompetent and had only filled one cup before he turned his back and started munching his way through the second cup. Sharing lessons start next week.
- We visited my mother today. My brother also arrived in with his two children and timed his visit during the boys happy hour. The boys are in a phase of mimicking everthing that they see these days and when they saw me wrestling with my nephew they were keen to get a piece of the action. That led to my nephew lying prone on the floor so that the boys could jump on him and tickle him, entertaining the adults for a good twenty minutes. My nephew will be referred to as Vic in this blog from now on for his enthusiasm in playing the role of Victim. My favourite part was when Monkey Boy was sitting on his cousins belly bouncing up and down and laughing at his muffled pleas for someone to remove Fat Chops who was now lying across his head. It's only a shame that they instantly stop what they are doing as soon as someone produces a camera or else this post would include a link to YouTube.
That's all from me for now,I hope to post something on Thursday before I go to my brothers stag party for the weekend. As ever, all comments are welcome.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
There's a storm brewing
I recently watched the Pixar movie, Up. It's another brilliant film from the studio and there are a couple of things that stood out to me.
Picture a love story, from childhood, then all through adult life, the difficulties of being unable to bear children and finally to the death of one of the couple. Picture that story being told in animated film and being skimmed through in about three and a half minutes. Does that sound like a sequence that would reduce a grown man to tears? Well, they made that scene so well that I was this [my thumb and forefinger are almost touching] close. Moist eyes, lump in throat. Only for I was watching it with some nieces and nephews who would remind me about it weekly for the rest of my natural life, I would have been a sobbing mess. This part is completely irrelevant to my story, by the way. I also fancy myself as a movie critic but that's for another blog.
The other stand out aspect was Dug. Dug is a speaking dog and responsible for the funniest parts of the movie. His speech is enabled by an electronic collar that translates his barks and growls into clear, if not eloquent, English. I remember hearing somewhere that Star Trek inspired a generation of inventors to produce automatic sliding doors, pocket size communicators and there is probably someone in a lab working on a phaser gun as I type. I can only hope that someone is working on a collar that translates barking into speech and that it can be adapted to help infants communicate better. This is the slightly more relevant part.
While I was slowly meandering to my point I thought a tropical storm was a fitting analogy for this post and I am determined not to let the fact that I live in Ireland and am not at all familiar with such storms stand in my way. I normally try to write about what I know but dull, grey, misty rain does not fit with the story I want to tell.
So, finally to the point of this post. Hannah was out training tonight so I was home with the boys. [This does not mean that one of them got injured by the way!] Normally in the evening we will give them something sweet before they go to bed and tonight I heated up two small pots of rice pudding. Monkey Boy ate his gratefully but Fat Chops resisted [belying his already inappropriate nickname]. I tried several times to get him to taste it which resulted in him using a scowl that no one under voting age should be allowed to use. Think, clouds gathering on the horizon, the wind picking up a little bit and the first raindrops starting to fall.
OK, I thought, he's just acting up a little bit. I'll use a bit of reverse psychology and feed his pot to Monkey Boy. The clouds darken overhead. He stomped as petulantly as anyone who is limited by only a couple of months walking experience possibly could and buried his head in the couch, ocassionally turning around to show me the scowl that he has already perfected [he gets that from his mothers side]. And then the rain starts to fall.
Maybe, he just doesn't feel like rice pudding tonight, I thought. It was a moot point anyway as his brother had already devoured the second pot. I went out to the kitchen and got him a yoghurt instead. Now, the hurricane starts in earnest. Driving winds, beating rain over a backdrop of dramatic lightening. Yep, I pushed him over the edge into a fully fledged tantrum, he lay himself on the ground, kicked his feet and pushed his vocal chords and my ear drums to their limit.
A man only has one choice in this situation. The Wiggles. Four camp Australian's who are beloved by parents everywhere for the twenty minutes guaranteed peace that they can provide at the flick of a switch. Then, as quickly as it descended, the storm evaporated, the clouds dispersed and the sun came back out. Fat Chops looked at the screen, shook his little booty to the strains of "Big Red Car" and beamed a grin through the tears.
Now, can someone please get me a translator collar so that I can figure out what the hell that was all about!!!!
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