I think I'm a grandparent.

"How do you think they will like their first try at swinging, Jen?"

"Anyone's guess, Dave."

Solved.

I'm writing this early today, because I'm hoping to god that all that is worth documenting has already passed into history. If not...it'll be an exciting night.

Lazy morning, it being Sunday and all. Nothing too exciting went down until the afternoon.

Jen spent two days arguing her case for bringing the girls to some swings and swinging them for their first-ever swing. This was odd, since I agreed on the event from the first moment she brought it up. When Jen is passionate about an activity, she will argue its case no matter how fervently I agree...it's one of my favorite things about her. In the future I will hate it, but for now it's darling.

We swung by the park on the way to CostCo. I love CostCo, and I was furious at having to waste time outside instead of being embraced by its enormous, flabby arms of consumerism. Begrudgingly, I went to the swings. It was a pretty short little visit; despite the playground having southern exposure, little in the way of tree coverage, and being on top of a hill, it was absurdly icy, snowy and watery. It was sloppy but awesome. The girls love swings. I think the pictures speak for themselves. Hooray! I hadn't felt this way since Abby first began overtly enjoying her soccer ball over other toys.

CostCo was crowded beyond belief. I'm not sure how I feel about the checkout process, since members and carts are required to part ways at the conveyor belt, and because our kids are ensconced in the cart. I feel a little sad when Abs and Lils wheel over to the other side.

After CostCo, walked the dogs/kids. Again: sloppy.

We put the kids down for their afternoon nap, and Jen ran to the store (because CostCo may have rice by the metric ton but they do not sell whole milk) while I flailed helplessly against the Sunday crossword. After a few minutes, Lily whimpered a bit. Within no time, that crescendoed into a full-on wail. The Pain Cry. I ran up and, not really knowing what might be wrong, brought her some milk. There was no doubt that was not what she wanted.

Let me interject here that this is not a story for the squeamish. If you have blood pressure issues or are eating, say, a roast beef sandwich right now, I might reconsider reading the remainder of this. I'm totally serious, this is bad, but I feel it needs to be published.

So Lily eighty-sixed the milk. I considered teething, but reconsidered because she was crying far too hard. I weighed the options. Then I remembered that Lily had a poop so hard and large the night before that Jen had to help pull it out a bit. Unbelievable that it didn't cross my mind earlier.

I whisked her over to the changing table, ripped off the clothes and shoes and diaper, and saw that she was "dialated" (is that a proper word for that part of the body?) about 2 centimeters. In between her wailing, I could see a large poop oscilating between way far in (I didn't do any measuring, sorry) to almost out while she pushed. This was a close second to childbirth in absolute horror shock factor. When she pushed hard, it was up against her anus and it was brutally clear to me that this thing was not going to pass on its own.

I had no clue what action to take, so I tried to coach her through the pushes, which I honestly couldn't help but laugh at because of the absurdity of it. "Good job buddy, keep pushing! You're doing great!" 13 months earlier to the day I'd been saying the same exact things to her Mom. I tried to add some levity to this disaster by telling Lily that her poop looked just like her when she was born. She did not find it amusing.

When she was pushing, I seriously thought there was going to be a burst or a tear or a hernia or a supernova or something...I think I started to hallucinate for a bit. Either way, it wasn't going to get any better even with my stellar coaching. Action was needed.

First I poked the poop. It was hard. Not granite or anything, but when I touched it I could feel a shooting sympathy pain ricochet in my own colon. I considered trying to break it up with a thermometer or something (other alternatives that crossed my mind included a turkey baster or a q-tip. Then I spent a good 30 seconds trying to remember where our turkey baster is and the last time I used it).

I did try - foolishly maybe? I'm not a doctor - to push her stomach down a bit during the pushes, thinking this magical poop would burst out like a spitwad from a bic pen. Was that a stupid plan? Yeah, it didn't seem to accomplish much, except that Lily looked at me, bawling, as if to wonder why I was choosing to add stomach blows to her list of problems.

Of course, the screams during this time were pretty awful. It was like a civil war triage tent. Fearing the consequence of waking Abby up, I turned to check on her and saw that she was sleeping soundly with a wry little smile on her face. Lovely.

Eventually I decided to gather some courage and try to get that thing out manually. When the next big push came, I worked my finger in there - somehow; not sure how, my eyes were closed - and popped it out. It actually took a couple tries, and it wasn't very easy.

Is there something wrong with me that I found it amazingly satisfying to get that thing out? It was a new kind of excitement in my life. For you sick, sick people out there that are interested - the ones that are still reading - the size was somewhere just shy of a golf ball. As Shaggy would say....zoikes.

As soon as it was over, Lily looked like she was going to pass out. I held her, and she buried herself into my shoulder. After a few minutes, she went down for what must have been a deep and bewildering slumber.

These kids, when they cry, you run down the list of possible issues. Is it, "Hey. I'm teething. Do something"? Back when they were newborns, it was food or sleep and that's it. The list gets longer the older they get, the diagnoses we can come up with. "Hey. I bumped my head. Hug me" gets used a lot lately. At no point did I expect a cry to ever mean, "Hey. I'm trying to pass a head of cabbage out my anus. A little help would be nice." Life is fun like that.

When Lily was down, I washed my hands and had one of the more well-deserved beers ever. After that I had some fruit juice.

Day twenty eight.

Lily a la Kate Winslet in Titanic.

This is another one of those pictures that makes me want to tear upstairs, wake them up, and play with them.

Ice. Snow. Pacimafiers.

Wetness! Nodding! Signing! ...plus a side of Billy Zane.

Pigtail day!

Okay, it's almost 1 am. I'm pretty exhausted. Which is a shame, because I did have a lot I wanted to jot down here tonight, and that's just not going to happen.

Good day today. Lovely weather, so we took the kids and dogs on a walkity walk around the neighborhood. Of course, with all that sunshine streaming down upon us, so did we have torrents of meltwater streaming around our ankles. It was a bit sloppy; socks were moistened to the point of unwearability. Still, spring seems to have sprung, so it's a beautiful time to be in existence.

I'd like to mention briefly and for the record a couple firsts for las ninas. One each, actually, which I like, very symmetrical. Lily seems to have mastered the nodding and shaking for yes and no. She doesn't have the slightest grasp as to the message she is conveying, but she can do it very well on command, and it's maddeningly cute when she does it on her own. I saw her do it, I think it was at the dog or something, and it was awesome. In Abby's corner: she figured out the sign for "more". She'd done it on a few occassions in the past weeks, but only when we would do it for her, then she would mimic it (always after she would first clap her hands, then pause - confusion written deep into her face - and only then purse the fingers together for the proper sign). Today she made the sign on her own just when I said, "more?" I'm so proud.

That's it. Off to bed. Oh wait...Zoolander's on. Maybe I can stay up a bit.

Day twenty seven.

I loved the pigtails. They didn't seem to mind them either.

This is hair after pigtails. Amazingly, it's almost cuter than with pigtails.

Lest you think our lives are without fault.

Montréal en vingt-cinq heures? Oui.

Lily, as she was when we captured her: naked and on hardwood floors.

Faithful readers will have noticed that we missed a day. I've already received word that the blog is no longer aptly named, and heretofore should be known as 364 days of twins. Hilarious.

I'm going to let yesterday not count, though, thanks to a technicality. My work had me head to Montreal yesterday to take pictures in a simulator. This may sound glamorous; it was not. Very very cramped, very dark, and we (me and Tim from Aerosim) worked from 9pm til 3am. After a few hours sleep, we were off to Bombardier to shoot an airplane, some parts of which turned out to be even more cramped than the simulator. But this is all neither here nor there...

I told Jen all about the blog, and she was very enthusiastic. She took photos. She prepared funny quips. But I didn't allow her access to the blog; so, unable to post anything and with me busy ramming my head into the overhead panel of the Challenger 605, the blog skipped a day. Worse things have happened.

Now she's lost her muse, and does not feel like writing. And I'm tired. But herein are some of Jen's pictures from the day.

Day twenty six

ps. Robert Loggia rules so much.

Abby loves her ears.

Again, the hand is up by the ears. A little more tired here, though.

Lily holds the box down, lest it fly away.

Abby playing with a leapfrog thingy that is like crack for both of them.

Abby

The dogs.

Life at the warm end of the duck

Lily. Mommy. Quality.

Bath night again tonight. Jen made a sweet spike out of Abby's hair, something I never seem to be able to do. Bath time is a lot more fun now, as both Abby and Lily are starting to move around the tub but in a psuedo-safe way that is just barely dangerous. Lily tries to climb out every once in a while but, after numerous corrections, she seems to have gotten the hint. Another plus: we can dump lots of water on their heads to soak the hair, and they do not mind. Big positive.

We have roughly 2800 bath toys that get very little attention during baths. Until recently. I found out that I can use the squeezy ones (like Crabby, my favorite) to blow zurburt-style on their white bellies, and they've begun to find it hilarious. Sweet. And my new favorite is a toy watering can that I pour in front of Lily. She watches the stream for a few seconds, then puts her face right into it like it's a shower. I do not tire of doing this, and she doesn't seem to either. So cute. I need to get that on video.

We have strange rubber duckies...I don't think we have one "typical" one, so to speak. One is dressed in horrific drag that offends even the kids, and the other has a thermometer attached to its bum so you can tell the water temp. If you ever have young kids and get a duck with a water thermometer on it, I recommend skewing towards the warm end. It seems like the median or lower end is way too cold. Good tip.

That's about it for the day. Really good day, the kids were great, and I'm bonkers for 'em.

Day twenty four.

Mommy plays with Lily while Abs bounces like the dickens. The dickens, people.

The bouncing. The dickens. She loves being in this thing.

I snapped this shot of Jenner and liked it. She's cute.

How can I ever explain to my girls the Walker Texas Ranger lever?

9:20 pm. We had a bottle. A bath was taken. Books were read and chewed upon. Eventually Abby and Daddy break down and watch Office reruns on TBS and play with the bulb while waiting for the urge to slumber.

While I obviously don't favor one of my kids over the other - what kind of monster would I be? - I think I'd be fooling myself by not admitting that, on certain days, one kid definitely wins. This win can come by many different manners, and more often than not it's not really the fault of the "loser"; that's what makes it so bittersweet. Just like life. It also makes my job of declaring a victor very awkward. There is never a deliberate thrust during the day to tally up my kids' plusses and minuses. Usually there is just one of those amazing and very finite moments where a particularly sweet moment of snuggling makes me think, "Oh yeah. It's a Lily day," or, "Abby wins Tuesday."

Today was quite a horse race. I should note that my points system is arbitrary and will hold up in a court of law.

I picked up just Lily at daycare because Abby was home sick. She crawled to me me, I scooped her up, snuggled with her for a second, and she totally gave me a super sloppy kiss. It was awesome. Thinking it was a fluke, I asked for another kiss a minute later and she gave me another one. Lily 11, Abby 0.

Later that night Jen wheeled Abby in the high chair to the kitchen doorway so she could watch me as I cooked dinner. Apparently Abby likes to watch me cook, as I was serenaded with many "Gaaaahhhs" and "Boooooohs" and laughs. Lily 11, Abby 7.

Lily shared her toys with me without asking. And she was completely smiley when I was taking photos of her. Lily 41, Abby 7.

Abby stayed up 2 hours past her bedtime. This normally would warrant a steep deduction. However she was totally awesome the whole time. We read a few books, she danced at the table, played a couple games, then watched tv. Lily 41, Abby 34.

There are still a few minutes left in the day, so it might not be over, but it's essentially a tie, despite what the final tally might be. It was a good day. Maybe I can let them both win today.

I feel like I should mention that - even though I had a banner day with the kids - Jen had to pick up Abby from day care because she had a fever, and afterwards spent some time dealing with a seriously cranky little kid. Props to Mommy.

Also: Jen and I have just become aware that Chuck Norris is 69 years old. We are amazed...he looks so good. Walker. Good times.

Day twenty three.

Abby freshly home and feverish from day care.

That's right...I kissed this girl today.

She's down to a single finger while walking, and even that is lightly held. We think she'll be soloing shortly.

What's funny about this is, I saved all the kleenexes because I'm cheap. They're in a pot on our dining room buffet.

There are scant few places we can stash a harmless kleenex box without it leading to this grisly scene. She will find it; there is a way.

Tonight was our first night at ECFE with the girls. I forget what ECFE stands for specifically, but it essentially means "parents and kids coming together in complete anarchy with free tea". It's hard to judge it after just one session, but here are some observations:

- The people running the thing were ridiculously friendly and obviously aces at working with kids.

- Lots of people have very interesting names. I love cool names, and considered lying about mine when I saw other people's name tags. One woman had a boy named Davidae, which I mispronounced as ending in a long 'I' sound, which is thanks to my latin class. Am I right Dad?!? Can I get a latin shout out from Ft. Myers?

- When the parents separated from the kids to hang out in another room, there was tea and coffee and a package with one cookie in it. One cookie. I didn't get it. It's not like I showed up late; that was the layout when we went in.

- I really liked the guy teaching it, a very funny guy named San (see number 2 above. Okay, he was Japanese, so that doesn't count), and was sad to hear him say that he was only a substitute and won't be our normal teacher.

- Because we spend half the class away from the kids and we put them straight to bed when we get home, it really feels like I didn't see them at all today.

- Another parent mentioned how fun ECFE classes are because they get to discuss with the kid afterwards what happened during the separation period. That was not the case with us. I asked Abby and Lily what happened on the way home; Lily said, "Whoooaaaahh whooaaaaaah!", which I take to mean that they were waterboarded.

- As fun as these parents' group things are, they still sometimes feel like an AA meeting. The free coffee. The introductions. The venting. The passing out of forms and handouts. The nodding; the sympathizing.

- Being back in a grade school makes me want to go back to grade school. It was a cool old building, and the coat rooms were first-rate.

That is all. I will undoubtedly grace these pages with more opinions when I've had a chance to form them.

Here are a few random photos.

Day twenty two.

aaammmyumm yum yummm yumm (sic)

I took this from my back porch while trying to get a powderhorn365 photo. I thought it was a cool shot, and notable in that it is a 30 second exposure and Venus has moved a noticable amount. Crazy.

Big ceramic dog at the MIA from two stories up.

Same excuse, different day.

Lily hanging out in the Cub parking lot. Quick: is the blue car pointing the same direction as our car or opposite?

I'm a little busy again tonight, so 'twill be another brief entry here. But you're in luck! Nothing of extraordinary notability went down. It was a nice day, but relatively uneventful.

We did have a nice late lunch out in Chaska with Mark and Tracey and Grace and Lucy, where they were nice enough to let us invade their house and make soup for us. In return, we gifted them a stinky, poopy diaper. Grace did a bang-up job playing with the twins and sharing some toys, proving Lily and Abby have no shortage of good cousins.

Afterwards we walked the dogs and kids in what was likely the most treacherous conditions of the year. Ice aplenty. Being leashed to a brittany spaniel with ADD and a penchant for random, forceful changes in velocity didn't make matters any safer.

Day twenty one.

This was cuter in person; Jen blowing on the kids. Our kids love when you blow in their faces, I'm not sure if that's unusual or not.

Abigail, having just gotten a windy faceful.

Lucy Reichert, hanging out while Tracey looks on. The mohawk was stylish.