Of Coffee & Love

Recently my wife and I have decided to expand our definition of marriage. Now don’t worry, we aren't about to join the ranks of the poly-amorous like the sister wives, or the brother-husbands, or swingers, or anything that may lead to any kind of disease ridden goofiness. We have however decided to bring Coffee into the sanctity of our wedded bliss.

we are making it official

This love does fly in the face of traditional Judeo Christian values. However the march towards progress requires society to evolve. Our love for Coffee, while not recognized legally, yet, is valid. Even if it does not fit into the mold that society has formed for acceptable relationships.

I can hear the typical straw man arguments, “If you let people marry Coffee, then next they will be marrying energy drinks, alpacas, and state parks.”

           Well that is just stupid, energy drinks are not yet at the age of consent, alpacas don’t believe in committed relationships, and state parks are filthy filthy whores. I mean have you seen that thing that Yellow Stone has on it? Get that thing lanced or something!

           My wife and I are a strong couple and we have been capable of handling all of the trials that life has handed us thus far. The main reason that we have decided to allow Coffee to join us in wedded bliss is that we wish to recognize the contribution that Coffee has had in our lives.

           Here is a short list of the many times coffee has been our own personal jebus.

• Maggie awakes at ungodly hour, Coffee allows us to function the next day
• Merritt awakes at an ungodly hour, Coffee allows us to function the next day
• Oliver awakes at an ungodly hour, Coffee allows us to function the next day
• William awakes at an ungodly hour, Coffee allows us to function the next day
• I can’t sleep due to worrying about whether or not Maggie, Merritt, Oliver, or William will wake up at an ungodly hour, Coffee allows me to function the next day.
• My wife can’t sleep due to me not being able to sleep due to worrying about whether or not Maggie, Merritt, Oliver, or William will wake up at an ungodly hour, Coffee allows her to function the next day.
• I feel cranky because EVERYONE IS ALWAYS CRYING! Coffee helps me to be nice.
• My wife feels cranky because EVERYONE IS NEEDY ALL THE TIME! (especially her husband) Coffee helps her to be nice.

   Now the question that is probably on everyone’s mind is will we be letting Coffee into our bed? First of all, stop being pervy, second of all the answer is no. Obviously. We already spend about 30% of our waking hours dealing with laundry. Coffee is notorious for staining. This is not a sex thing, it’s about respect. We respect Coffee’s contribution to our lives, and we feel it is important to make an honest beverage out of Coffee.

L&P

Lunch Time? Not On My Watch!

One of the most iconic scenes in the movie A Christmas Story features a Ralphie’s little brother refusing to eat his Meatloaf. Ralphie mentions that in every family there is a child that simply refuses to eat. Recently that child in my family has been my two year old.

I am not proud of my work history as it is rife with many roles in the food service industry. Not that it is not a fine and noble profession, but I stunk at it.  That being said, I have, against my will, developed the ability to put together a pretty damn handsome lunch platter.

Note the cheese hashtag

I go all out which, admittedly is a little ridiculous considering that a good portion of the time I am only using said platter to feed myself and a toddler. I personally would be content eating out of a glad bag as long as the food tasted decent. The two year old is less than impressed by this presentation as 9 times out of 10 she hardly looks at the food and when she does, it is quickly followed by a demand for something else.

The following is an approximation of how conversations in my home go around lunch time. You may notice that I have altered the toddler’s speech pattern and vocabulary. This is done for two reasons. First of all, toddler lisp is adorable to listen to but annoying to read. Secondly, it’s funnier this way.

Dad: Lunch time!

Kid: Father, I would prefer to continue viewing Bubble Guppies.

Dad: I know but we’ve already watched some TV today and now we need to eat and then take a nap.

Kid: Father, I am not tired.

Dad: I know you don’t think you’re tired, but you didn’t eat any of the eggs or toast or bacon that you had me make for breakfast. After we eat lunch then we have to take a nap.

Kid: About this lunch, what have you prepared?

Dad: Apples, crackers, cheese, and carrot sticks, just like you asked.

Kid: I tire of this lunch, I desire pizza.

Dad: We don’t have pizza.

Kid: I desire pizza.

Dad: But you asked me for apples and crackers and cheese, so that is what I made.

Kid: Pizza please.

Dad: If we aren’t going to have lunch then we should just go take a nap.

Kid: Father, I am NOT TIRED. I WANT to watch Bubble GUPPIIIIIIIIIIIIIES.

Dad: How about we eat lunch?

Kid: I want pizza.

Dad: …

Kid: I would also like to watch Bubble Guppies.

Dad: It’s time for lunch.

Kid: And Bubble Guppies.

Dad: Sigh, the TV is off, but you can watch more after your nap.

Kid: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Dad: Can we have a couple of bites?

Kid: GUUUUUUUUPIEEEEEEEES! Plate toss

Dad: Oh kid, that makes me sad, now we have to pick up all this food.

Kid: Noooooooooooo.

Dad: Let’s take a nap now.

This exchange typically ends with me scooping the toddler up and dropping her in bed where this conversation begins.

Kid: Father I would like my puppies.

Dad: Ok, here is one, two, three, four, five, stuffed puppies.

Kid: I also would like my rabbits.

Dad: One, two, three rabbits.

Kid: I need books now.

Dad: Kid, I don’t know if there is any room for you in the bed.

Kid: Books please.

Dad: Ok, here is your monkey book.

Kid: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO… robot book.

Dad: I’m not sure where the robot book is.

Kid: ROOOOOOOOBOOOOOOOOT BOOOOOOOOOOK!

Dad: sigh, I’ll go look for it.

Kid: ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz

Since I hate wasting food this commonly ends in me eating my lunch as well as hers. This explains how I am beginning to appear that I am just ending my first trimester. Somehow my child continues to grow despite the fact that I rarely if ever see her eat. This flies in the face of everything I know about nutrition and physics, as I was under the assumption that without an external energy source (food) a child would not grow. I have come to two conclusions, either my child is a mutant and will soon become master of the world through use of her super powers. Or she has found my secret stash of Snickers bars and is sustained by the snack that satisfies. You will excuse me now, I must replenish my stash.

L&P

Conversations We Must Now Have

            As you may suspect, now that we are a family of seven we are a bit of a spectacle when out in public.  The combination of a beautiful teenage daughter, a special needs kid, a two year old that is into EVERYTHING, and our ATV stroller carrying the twins tends to grab a bit of attention.  Our previous post pointed out some of the comments we have been assaulted with, though the individuals making the statements and asking the questions were well meaning I’m sure.  The following is not an actual conversation we have had, but combination of the greatest hits rolled into one whiz bang comedic free-for-all for you to enjoy.  Please keep in mind that these are all snippets of conversations with STRANGERS.

Stanger: Wow! That’s a lot of kids!

Us: Yeah, we have five in total.

Stranger: FIVE?! Wow, what ages?

Us: 15, 14, 2 and the twins are 10 months.

Stranger:  Well at least the older two can help out.

Us:  Well the 14 year old has Down Syndrome and as much as we love her, she is not much help when it comes to child care.

Stanger: Well I just want to thank you for not having an abortion.

Us: Exuse me?

Stranger: So many people just be bothered to raise their children these days.

Us: Stunned silence

Stranger: Well at least the 15 year old can help.

Us: We try to not make the 15 year old do to much.

Stranger: Why?

Us: Because she is 15 and if she gets good at child care then the terror of being a teen mom may dissolve. We prefer for her to watch us lose our shit all the time so the idea of parenthood appears to be a nightmarish hellscape.

 Stranger: Oh…Five kids huh… So… You ever been to Utah?

Us: Utah? No, why would we go to Utah?

Stranger: No reason, just asking is all.

Us: Oh, ok.

Stranger: What do you think of that new pope?

Us: Um.. No opinion really, why?

Stranger: Oh, no reason just asking.

Us: Ok…

Stranger: So the twins are both boys?

Us: Yeah.

Stranger: Did you get them snipped?

Us: Excuse me?

Stranger: Did you get them circumcised?

Us: Um, you seem awfully interested in my babies’ penis.

Stranger: No not at all, I just heard that a lot of people aren't doing that anymore.

Us: Well I gotta-

Stranger: Did you get your kids vaccinated?

Us: Yes, because science.

Stranger: Oh… Ok, well I guess each parent makes their own choices.

Us: Indeed we do. Can I just get my Happy Meals now? The kids are getting hungry.

Stranger: Oh sure, here you are, I’ll be praying for you.

Us: I’m not sure that’s such a hot idea.

Stranger: Why not?

Us: Prayer is what we used for birth control.  

Thanks again for your patients, we know that we have only posted a few times since we had the boys but we are trying to find a rhythm so we can post more on the regular.  

Cheers

L&P 

Things To Not Say To Someone With 5 Kids

Hi folks, it's been a bit since we posted and there is a reason for that.  As most of you know, we now have five kids.  Five.  There is more than a little bit of adjustment for our family and finding time to write has been playing second fiddle to changing diapers, doing laundry, changing diapers again, feeding people, changing diapers yet again, changing sheets (because spilled breast milk smells like nightmares after a couple of days), going to work, drinking coffee coffee coffee, not sleeping, pumping (for my wife), and engaging in mortal combat with a bed purchased from Ikea.  More on the Ikea thing at a later date.

  I'm going to warn you now that this will probably not be a very long post as there is currently no one crying in my home and bouts of silence typically only last for a dozen or so minutes.

  One of the things that we have learned is that on the few occasions that we are feeling brave enough to embark on the odyssey that is preparing to leave our home with our entire brood, complete strangers can not seem to by pass us without offering their observations.  I would like to share some of these pearls with you as well as why you should not ever say these things to someone that is in our particular situation.

 "Wow! You sure got your hands full!"
 Brilliant observation dipshit.  If I have my hands so full then what the fuck makes you think I have time to banter with yokels about how my hands are full?

 "Are they twins?"
  Did you really make it all the way to adulthood without learning how long it takes for a human to gestate?  They are clearly too close in size to be anything other than twins.  I suppose they could be cousins, or we could be babysitting, but they are in a double stroller.  I love all my nieces and nephews and all, but I'm not about to drop an extra $200 so I can be the world champion babysitter.

 "God doesn't give you more than you can handle."
  Ah yes, that explains why there is no such thing as suicide, problem drinking, or me crying in the closet hiding from my two year old.

 "Better you than me!"
  You insensitive bastard.  First of all, our children are a gift.  Second of all, I can't even remember what we are talking about because I have five kids and they never all sleep at the same time, which means I don't sleep.  Am I at a Starbucks?  Will you give me coffee?

  "God knew I couldn't handle twins, that's why he didn't give me any."
  Well, you sure are lucky that you know the the inner workings of the almighty.  Strange that he didn't see fit to also grant you the insight to not pester someone pushing a shopping cart with one hand (filled with not only groceries but also two children) while dragging a double stroller with the other hand.

 "You guys are crazy to have more children."
  My wife and I apparently have a total combined awesomeness that could not be contained in only three children.  Besides, judging by the interactions I've had with the populace there is a dire shortage of individuals that kick ass.  My genetics mixed with that of my wife is shoring up the numbers for the rest of you ninnies. A simple thank you would have sufficed.

"You guys know where babies come from right?"
No but I know where you got that hand print on your cheek.

 Well kids that is all for now.  We are trying to get back into the swing of this.  Thanks for your patients.
L&C

Adventures in Maggie Rearing Vol. 2

The best thing about being a part of Maggie's life is that it is never, EVER, boring.  Being Maggie's parent forces one to develop a 6th or maybe even 7th sense. Prior being her parent I was a deep sleeper.  Now I wake up when the refrigerator is opened on the other side of the house. This is due to the PTSD that I now have from cleaning up the messes that Maggie makes when she "cooks". When Maggie is getting into her shenanigans the hair on the back of my neck begins to stand up.  The following are examples of instances in which I ignored that feeling.

Exhibit A

  The above photo is taken from the second story of our home.  Due to the fact that Maggie is largely non-verbal we are typically forced to guess at her intentions.  This picture was taken shortly after we purchased the movie Tangled.  Our working hypothesis is that Maggie was recreating some of the scenes in which the main character jumps out of the window.  Barbie's taking flight is not a new occurrence though, prior to moving to this address they would frequently find themselves pitched into our neighbors yard.  Our neighbor at the time had a good heart and would simply toss them back.  He once stated that he believed they were "camping".

Exhibit B

Maggie loves the water.  Swimming is her favorite activity.   Even if the water isn't deep enough, she is content to sit in a wading pool for hours on end.  When the weather turned too cold for her to enjoy this activity outside, Maggie thought outside the box. I believe we were napping when she first dragged this pool in from the yard because if memory serves what woke us up was the frequent trips up and down the stairs as she filled a 16 ounce glass up in the bathroom sink over and over, then trotted it downstairs and tossed the contents into the pool.  Had I been a deeper sleeper, she may have eventually succeeded.

Exhibit C

This picture was taken shortly after we brought Maggie's little sister Merritt home from the hospital for the first time.  Maggie must have been sick of the late night cry fests and lack of attention.  She packed what she needed for a life on the road, (a suite case filled with Barbies) and headed out.  Luckily she did not get far before my wife convinced her to head back home.

Lately, Maggie's sleeping meds have been failing us and she has been waking up pretty regularly at 1:30 in the a.m.. She almost always stays in her room playing so it has not been much of a disturbance.  The biggest issue is that part of her play includes random screams, singing, and banging on the wall.   Most parents would be concerned about the screaming, but when I check on her I am greeted with an insistent finger pointing for me to leave and either the word "GO" or simply her blowing raspberries at me.

The Costuming is VERY important

It would seem that when I enter her room I am interrupting the delicate role play that she has created and am breaking her concentration.  She may only be saying "go" but the way she says it make it feel more like she is saying, "Do you have any IDEA how hard I have been working on this scene?!"

She has done a better job than we expected of adjusting to the twins joining our family.  We have had a few requests for picture featuring her and the twins.  She may have accepted that they are now in the house, but she still is not crazy enough about the idea that she is willing to sit for a photo.

More Adventures in Maggie Rearing in the future.

L&P

Not the Worst Thing I Have Done, But Close

I must admit that I have not always been the beacon of special needs advocacy that you now know and love.  True I have always had a soft spot for those with special needs.  I have also always respected those that struggle alongside the special needs population so it should come as no surprise that I fell in love with my wife and shortly there after with fatherhood and parenting a child with special needs.

But as I previously mentioned, these skills needed to be honed.  In my defense, my heart was in the right place, even if my head was lodged squarely in my ass.

Enter Prince.

Not that one

I have roughly 15 years of food service experience.  In that time I can tell you that there are several types of individuals that seem to gravitate to different fields of the food service industry.  Those that are very personable and organized, (and occasionally gay) seem to become servers.  Individuals that have criminal records tend to work in the kitchen.  Psychopaths tend toward management.  Prince was a dishwasher.

Dishwashers are usually one or several of the following; alcoholic, special needs, teenagers, migrant workers.

Prince is an African American gentleman from Louisiana.  He has a thick accent, a fairly oddly shaped head, and worked as a dishwasher.  Prince and his brother Kenny both worked with me at a restaurant which will remain unnamed.  For months I worked with Prince but had minimal interaction with him as I was a server and we usually worked different shifts.  When I did talk to Prince he would talk about going to school.  I assumed this was a special needs school where he would work on life skills.

One day Prince came to work directly from school. Prince was wearing hospital scrubs.  It slowly began to dawn on me that if an individual with special needs works in a hospital it is not usually a position in which scrubs are necessary.  A terrible terrible feeling began to creep over me as I turned to Prince's brother (who did not have a criminal history to my knowledge) and asked, "Kenny, does your brother have a learning disability or something?" (Kenny's accent was also not nearly as thick as his brothers.)
"No? Why?"
"No reason."
I had assumed that due to Prince's oddly shaped noggin, slow manner of speech, and employment as a dishwasher, he was an individual with special needs. The following is a list of things that I ACTUALLY SAID to Prince.
"Great job busing that table buddy!"
"You mopped that floor all by yourself!"
"Wow! You carried 1,2,3,4 glasses and didn't spill a drop!"

 The horror of my situation must have been evident on my face as I uttered the words, "My god I gave him all those hugs."

Kenny (again, who does not have a criminal record) must have pieced together what I was going through and laughed the laugh that only a black guy can laugh at a white guys discomfort as I sputtered my poorly thought out reasoning for believing his brother had special needs.  Even more terrifying was the thought that Prince may have believed that I spoke to him in the manner that I did because I was racist and placating him.

Now if you can tell me how to explain to someone that you spoke to them as if they were a child, not because you are a racist, but because you thought that they were an individual with special needs, then I sir or madam will eat my hat.  Because that is a situation that is fucking impossible to navigate gracefully.

Thankfully shortly after this Prince moved on to another place of employment.  Probably one with less racist white people that treated him like a simpleton.  I don't know if Kenny (again, not a convicted felon), ever explained to his brother that I was not intentionally being an a-hole.  But that I was only accidentally being an a-hole.

The moral of the story dear reader is this; much in the way that you should never assume a woman that looks pregnant is pregnant, never assume a person has special needs until they tell you specifically that they have special needs.  Unless they are blind of course in which case you probably should err on the side of blind and not toss them anything.

In conclusion I would like to apologize to black people, those with special needs, my family, and anyone I may have inappropriately hugged.

L&P

Terror Toys

It has been said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.  Enter the SingAMaJig.  A relative with a good heart and noble intentions purchased our sweet toddler a couple of SingAMaJig's when she was but a new born.  If you don't know what a SingAMaJig is, I will show you.

I am become Shiva, destroyer of worlds.

Note the open mouth, no doubt preparing to drink the joy from your soul.  Also note the dead eyes, looking through you.  

The SingAMaJig is named so due to the fact that when you squeeze it's belly it begins to sing one of many tunes.  I deduce that this is a quality that was learned by this devil doll in either the 3rd or 4th circle of hell in order to appeal to our human love of Yankee Doodle.  Since this "toy" is mostly of demon blood it is not able to just belt a tune out the way an angle would. It requires multiple squeezes in order to force the joy out one syllable at a time.  This is what ultimately lead to my decision to keep one of these nigh malevolent creatures in the garage.

You see, the tune programmed into one of our SingAMaJigs is Skinnamarink e dink a dink.  Now you may think that this tune is innocent enough.  Well by the dark of night I accidentally trod upon one of these gremlins, which forced out the first syllable.  Had I not been so in tuned to the innate evil contained within the monster, I would have thought nothing of the fact that a toy had just yelled the word, "SKINNNNNNNNN" at me.  

You may be thinking, "Hey, that is just the first word of the song."  Well I pity you and your face which is about to be carved up by a possessed doll.

This was clearly a threat.  I caught the SingAMaJig, or should I say, SkinAMaJig by surprise and it unintentionally revealed it's plan for the night.  To skin myself and my family. 

Be ever vigilant reader for evil may be as close as your toy chest.

L&P

Four Weeks Old

William on the left, Ollie on the right

Due to the tone of our last entry I feel that I should begin by letting you know that everyone is alive and recovering well.  The boys are gaining weight steadily which is a good sign.  My wife is also recovering and is as healthy as anyone who is no longer allowed to sleep with any regularity can be.

When my wife and I first started telling people that we were going to have twins, bringing our grand total of offspring to 5, a common response was, "Well after three kids there isn't much of a difference."  This gave us a bit of optimism as the thought that we were about to be able to fill a minivan was overwhelming to say the least.

I'm going to say that again, many of the people that we informed about our impending double birth gave us the impression that it would not impact us as much as we had feared.
Experience is a great teacher.  For instance, it has taught me that each and everyone of those individuals are either clueless, or malevolent evil geniuses who drink the tears of the broken willed.

I would like to give those individuals the benefit of the doubt and assume that they are not wicked, but ignorant.  Like a child lost in a department store.  Like a blind person in a darts tournament.  Like someone who does not have ADHD attempting to watch MTV.

You're out of your element Donny!

  Thus far this experience is like trying to juggle chainsaws.  Chainsaws that vomit and pee at you.  Adorable chainsaws that I love with all my heart.  But chainsaws none the less.

I have learned that I am significantly less funny when deprived of sleep.  I have learned that my wife is a juggernaut of parenting ninjatude and that I have so much to learn from her.
 I have learned that it is nigh impossible to split your attention fairly between all of your children.  Try as we might, whoever is crying the loudest seems to receive the most attention.
I have learned that I work with the most generous individuals that have donated time and funds to assist my family.  This fact is made even more amazing since most of my co-workers have never met my family.  This is humbling and frustrating because when I win the lottery (and I WILL), I now have to slice that pie up into even more pieces.
I have learned that baby boys will strike like a cobra with a stream of hot pee as soon as soon as a diaper is removed.
I have learned that a 20 month old can remove all of the keys off of a laptop in as much time as it takes me to empty my bladder.
I have learned that my 14 year old is fucking awesome.  I knew that, but this knowledge has been reinforced.

It is bittersweet to think that we will never go through this experience again firsthand.  Unfortunate as well since I almost think I am getting the hang of this.
We are trying to keep up with the posts but, as you may well expect, time is a precious commodity and it is almost always spent cramming milk into a baby or cleaning up any number of bodily fluids.
Thank you for your patients and for your support.

L&P