Happythankyoumoreplease

Random notes from the early days of parenthood...

Holy cow, look at the toilet paper she goes through. I thought it might add up, but by the looks of the skid marks in his underwear, what we spend on her, we'll more than make up for on him.

Synagogues make you pay a building fund.  You pay x amount for five years, and then if you switch temples, you don't pay a building fund again. You paid your dues and your dues travel with you. I thought of this when I was making her bed this morning. She'll never appreciate it, but she's already earned it. These kids paid life's building fund a long time ago at someone else's temple and it was a big one. If they piss me off because they don't pick up their socks, sometimes they get a freebie.

Justuce says "puzzurt" instead of "dessert" and "prize" instead of "surprise." This makes me happy.

Justin can dribble a basketball between his legs, yet he'll walk straight into a tree. Fascinating.

Thank you, Mom, for giving up a day of work, once a month, forever, to take me to the orthodontist. I had no idea how much medical appointments mess up a working parent's life. Thank you.

Justin, in the car, out of the blue, offended: "Hey! Why Justuce gots more shoes than me?" I think the correct answer is "because she's a girl." Did I get that one right?

There is nothing more beautiful than watching them breathe while they're sleeping. I watch their chests rise up and down and I pray along with the rhythm, hoping they'll always know that kind of peace.

Where do all the goggles go? I could give two shits about single socks in the dryer. Socks are six bucks a dozen. You want to save my sanity, tell me where they lose all their freaking goggles.

Keep your gum in your mouth, keep your gum in your mouth, keep your gum in your mouth, keep your gum in your MOUTH.

Just when I think she doesn't like me, or at the very best, simply tolerates me, she'll ask me to pick her up and she'll wrap her arms around my neck and she'll nestle into me with such a perfect, puzzle piece fit, I feel foolish, needed and utterly confused. I hope that feeling never goes away.

What is that smell?

I wish my dad were here to see this. Parts of this would amuse him very much.

I bet they would have been really cool to hold as babies. Somebody really messed this up. If I ever meet that person, the first thing I'm going to say is thank you.

The confident, five-word assurance "I don't have to pee" has yet to materialize as fact.

They like In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak, not so much for its intrinsic literary merit, but because Mickey's junk hangs out when he falls out of the cake batter. They point to his wiener on every page and say "ewwww" and giggle. And of course, this only makes me want to read it to them more often, which I do.

Oooh, does he get pissed when he's trying to ask me for a do-over of something mysterious he liked a couple days ago and "that thing we had that other time" doesn't ring any bells.

Dimetapp folks, you get four stars for your watery grape elixir. PediaCare folks with your gooey cherry syrup, I suggest a retooling. You get projectile gagged all over my couch.

It's amazing how quickly "I hope they like me" turned into "I don't care if they like me or not, they will do what I say." This took about six days, in case you were wondering.

I think I know why kids have to wear socks in the McDonald's Play Place. It's the only way the plastic ever gets cleaned. Have you seen your kids' black socks when they get out? They're not so much playing in there. They're dry mopping.

Under no circumstances should you ever, ever let Justin pet your chihuahua.

They both like to be carried to bed upside down by their ankles. I'm going to need a chiropractor.

We have a big "family love" poster in the hall upstairs. "In this house, we do love." Every night, they each get to put three stickers on it. A smiley-face because they make us happy. A heart because we love them. And a star to have sweet dreams.

Early on, I said to them, "You know what you get if you're good in the store? Two happy dads." And we repeated it a few times on other occasions. Now when we ask them, they grumble the answer, "two happy dads," with a snarl. This makes us particularly happy.

And maybe most importantly of all – and I almost don't want to say this out loud because it's too soon to tell and I don't want to jinx it – I think they like Star Trek.