My kids are growing up literarily unsheltered!

Kiernan's nightly routine involves putting on his pyjamas, brushing his teeth, then the reading of two books chosen from his overflowing bookcase (courtesy of the garage-saling prowess of my mother-in-law). The lights then get turned off, then comes another story - when it got dark earlier it was projected onto the wall but this time of year it's "stories from daddies head" - followed by a song, water, hugs, and a kiss. Finally it's "Get out the door now daddy."

The stories from my head fall under two categories. Either Kiernan asks "I want the story about the zebra on the swings." and I get to make up something involving said zebra, or he asks for a classic nursery rhyme.

Some may know I dislike the politically-correct versions of nursery rhymes these days, so when I tell the story of Little Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf wants to eat Red and not just her basket of goodies, grandma gets eaten and not just hidden in the closet. The woodsman slices the wolf open to extract grandma, then they fill him with rocks and toss him into a lake. Time to go back to the cottage to enjoy the basket of goodies, hurray!

A few weeks ago one of the books pulled off the shelf was a copy of Little Red Riding Hood published in 1995. If it was bowdlerized at all, it was going to get one reading then be given away. Fortunately, it was the best version of Little Red Riding Hood yet, despite being written in the past two decades.

Grandma AND Red Riding Hood get eaten alive. The wolf takes a post-lunch nap when the woodsman happens by to cut them out. There's an illustration of the wolf sliced from neck to groin, and another with happy-go-lucky Red gathering stones in the forest. There's no lake, however - the wolf just wakes up, attempts escape, and becomes so weighed down by the stones he dies just yards from the cottage. The pièce de résistance is the final photo of Grandma and Riding hood happily enjoying cookies:


I have to admit that when stories-from-my-head is the Three Little Pigs I end it at the wolf giving up and going home, simply for brevity's sake (with screaming twins overwhelming mommy downstairs, often stories are speedy). The story is supposed to continue on with the Big Bad Wolf attempting to lure the pig out to pick turnips, apples, and to go to the fair, and finally attempting to climb down the chimney. Some books still include the chimney - the pigs manage to light a fire and he runs off with his tail smoking, never to return again.

To get the best stories you have to search the shelves for the books published in the 50s and 60s. Here for my your enjoyment is the best two page spread of the Three Little Pigs ever.

Couldn't have flown any lower...

Today was a potluck lunch at work.

I brought a big bowl of dinner rolls.

As I exited my office, joining the RAs also heading up, one of them looked at the bowl and said "Hey, Nice buns!"

Who am I to pass up such a chance as this, so I said "Thanks! I get that a lot."

Absolutely no reaction from any of them.

Outnumbered

When big brother Kiernan was a baby, I referred to him half-jokingly as my little chrono-vampire -- his sleeplessness (20 minute naps were a luxury!) and constant demand to be carried or bounced for approximately 27 hours a day sucked time out of our lives.



You would think that the twins, who allow themselves to occasionally be put down and who sleep hours at a time, would give us more spare time, yes?

Hells no. Quinn and Juliette are the ultimate tag-team yearn-for-attention-ers. In order to find time to do anything that doesn't require a baby on your arm, you need at least three adults in the house. If elder brother is home, the number of course is bumped up to four. This past weekend, my mother- and father-in-law came to hold babies, my wife took Kiernan to the park, and I was able to spend an hour assembling the new IKEA TROFAST organizer in the basement.

Actually putting the TROFAST into use and organizing the basement will require at least a small army of visitors.

Volunteers?

Brain, meet afternoon wall

The Multiple Birth Families Association needs to work out a partnership with Starbucks - I want to show our MBFA membership card and get a free espresso shot in my white mocha.

I just wish it had better handles...

Thump

The light ahead turned yellow, but before my foot hit the brake there was a smack to my left. A small dark shape bounced off the driver's side window - did someone just throw something at me?

I looked around - no one was nearby, so at the light I looked in my side mirror to see the bird lying on the other side of the yellow line. Another bird swooped in to land next to it - do sparrows mate for life? No, wait, there's a third bird coming in for a landing. Maybe it's a Bill-Paxton-Big-Love sort of thing?

The bird stood up, and the other two birds fluttered away. As the light turned green it still stood there, hopefully aware that it's close to the path of oncoming tires and able to move away.

Random segue into twin news: Off-schedule twin wakings make me feel just like that bird.

Sleep deprived conversations continued...

Last night I woke up around one am to see Lara sitting in her glider holding a baby and exclaiming in wonderment, "How did she get so big?"
I glanced at the clock and said "Is it time to feed them?"
She ignored my question, instead deducing, one word coming out at a time, "She got bigger because she's older!"
"Juliette is younger than Quinn."
"She's grown bigger!"
I looked to my left to see Juliette still sleeping in the bassinet - Lara was holding Quinn, the bigger of the twins by at least a pound. I decided to just turn on the hall light to make our journey to the babies' room easier.

Upon my return, Lara looked up at me.
"What am I doing now?" she asked, then answered herself immediately: "Right. My dad is going to hold a baby so I can hold the strawberry."

"Do you want to go to the other chair and feed both of them?" I asked.
"Which ones?" she replied.
"Both of them."
"Which both of them?"
"Both babies."
"Oh right, there are only two."
I don't know, maybe the strawberry was hungry?

Later on, at the following feeding around 4am I came in to check on them.
"How are they doing?"
"Guhbluhbuhmruh" Lara stated matter-of-factly.
"Pardon me?"
"Nothing- it's- nevermind-" she backpedaled, assuming I was fishing for blog post material. (Not this time - I figured all the gold had been mined at this point.)
"I just didn't hear you. Is everything okay?"
"It's snowing."
"Okay, I'll be back in fifteen."