I didn’t want to jinx it. So I didn’t say anything. But, after three nights in a row, I think it’s safe to say that…

Jonathan is sleeping through the night!!!!

Three months old and both twins are sleeping all night long. This Daddy has slept, in the past three nights, 7 hours, 7 hours and 8 hours. I am one rested dude! Now, not wanting to get greedy or anything, but the babies are still asleep at 6:15 a.m. I’ve been up for an hour anticipating them being awake. I have woken a couple of times the last few nights at the slightest sound from the baby room only to find them perfectly fine and sleeping. I need to have a talk with my brain and let it know it’s okay to sleep until the babies actually wake up.

If you’re in a fantasy football league and your opponent has Michael Vick on his team, and it’s a Monday night game and the babies are just getting ready to go to bed, don’t yell “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” when Vick pulls his Houdini magic to score a touchdown.

Why not, you ask? Well, because last night Daddy got excited and in the process scared two little babies resting in their bouncy seats. Lots of crying ensued and Daddy had to promise Mommy that he wouldn’t get so excited when watching football.

(Uh, yeah, I’m not sure if that’s gonna be able to happen)

TheMonk and Bri,

I can’t believe it’s already been 3 months since your birth. That means we only have 213 more months until you go off to college.

You’re growing up so fast. It seems like you learn a new trick every day. Jonathan, I watched you in your crib yesterday spend at least five minutes trying to get your thumb into your mouth. You had a plan that was pretty good in concept. Execution, however, wasn’t so hot. First, you extended your fist as far away from your face as possible. Then, you would eject your thumb away from your fist, almost like an artist sizing up his painting from across the room. Next, you would slowly bring the thumb/fist toward your face. Almost inevitably you would bring the fist right at your eye that was looking at the fist. Being off by only a couple of inches, you would then try to drag your thumb across the bridge of your nose, over the top lip and into the awaiting mouth. The only problem you had was by the time your fist got to the mouth, the thumb had retracted back into your fist. “Hmmm” I could almost see you thinking, “Let’s try this again.” And you would. Never quite got it though, I’m afraid.

Now, you’re sitting next to me as I type this and you’re at it again. Being the great dad that I am, I first showed you how I suck my thumb (Please note that I stopped sucking my thumb years ago. I mean, who knew how mean college classmates could be about such a thing). This seemed to provide some much needed encouragement, however, because you proceeded to try again in earnest. This time, I helped keep your thumb out and you finally got it into your mouth. Another problem has arisen, however. Judging by the wrinkled nose and licking of the lips, it seems you don’t care for the taste of your thumb. Well, we can’t say we didn’t try. Now, this won’t rank up there with me teaching you how to throw a baseball, blast out of the starting blocks, telling Mommy you love her more, but it’s a start.

Swee’Pea, your new trick is that you like to talk. All… of… the… time. Every morning when I get you out of bed for your early feeding you look at me like I’m the bestest thing in the whole world (and I’m just going to keep believing it’s so). Your smile is so huge and you begin to make excited noises that are so loud I have to hurry you out of the room to change you so you won’t wake your brother. When I lie you down to change your diaper prior to feeding, you get so excited that you kick and thrash your legs around. While it’s cute as hell, it does make it a little harder to change your diaper. Luckily, there’s been no accidents as of yet. After feeding, I put you back down for your morning nap (you’re like your mom, you definitely like to sleep in. In fact, if it was socially acceptable for your mother to wear diapers to bed, she might not ever get up). It is so fun to hear you talk yourself to sleep over the baby monitor as I feed your brother. What you’re saying, I have no clue, but it sounds fascinating. You’ll have to explain it to me some day.

Needless to say, the last 3 months have been an incredible time in our family. I must admit it’s pretty exhausting to juggle the both of you (not literally, we haven’t tried juggling you since you hit the 10 pound mark. Daddy’s back isn’t what it used to be). But at the end of the evening, after your mom and I have bathed, fed, changed and finally put you to bed we close the door to your room and we give each other a kiss and a high five (Another day without killing the kids or each other – All Right!). It is then one of us will look at the other and say, “Can you believe how lucky we are?”

No, I cannot believe it. But there it is. You are living proof at how blessed and fortunate we are. I dreamed of having you for so long, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it would be as good as this.

Happy Three Months Little Ones. I love you.

Four years ago today I was awakened by a phone call from my mother. “Turn on the TV,” she said. “A plane crashed into one of the twin towers in New York.”

For the next hour or so, I sat in front of the television, 3,000 miles away from death and destruction, with a numbing sense that our lives would never be the same. I didn’t cry – not that day – it was too surreal to cry. But I mourned for the loss of lives and the families and friends they left behind, I mourned for the city that I had lived in for six years, and I mourned for the loss of innocence that inevitably arises from such a tragedy.

I wasn’t a parent then. I didn’t yet have to think about how to explain how such hatred and violence can occur in the same world that let’s us experience the beauty of a rainbow after a summer shower, the aroma of freshly baked cookies on a cold winter’s day, or the soft underside of a lazy kitty’s belly. I’m not sure what I would have said then, had I been a parent. It caught me off guard and I’m not sure I would have had an explanation. But I’ve had some time to think about it. I know that someday I’m going to have to discuss how such atrocities can happen. I use the word “discuss” because I’m not sure there is an “explanation.” At least not one that could ever truly make sense.

Yes, September 11, 2001 changed me. I am now keenly aware of the role I will have to play in the development of my children. I am raising my children in a world that is far more complex than anything I experienced as a child and they will have to face issues that I never dreamed of as I was growing up. I have written before of how I want to teach my children ways to look at these challenges and choose to act in a way that will foster love and not hatred. That will promote peace and not war. That will provide understanding and not ignorance. These skills are becoming more and more important. No longer do our actions just affect those immediately around us. No, the world is a smaller place and our actions have the power to produce tidal waves across the world rather than just ripples across a pond.

I have saved newspaper clippings and books that detail the events of 9/11. I hope someday to share these with Jonathan and Swee’Pea. I want them to see what happened. But as much as I want them to understand the events that happened that day, I also want them to see the outpouring of love and compassion that erupted from this horrific event. Strangers helping strangers down long flights of stairs in total darkness, children donating their piggy banks to help in the recovery of a nation, and parents hugging those children close and telling them they are loved and they are safe.

My hope for my children is for them to be a difference maker. And I don’t mean that in a grand, global sort of way – for we can all make a difference in the lives that we touch. But in order to do that, we have to make the effort! We have to reach out and touch those around us. We have to get to know our neighbors first and the rest of the world second. And while it’s natural to gravitate to those who are most like you (those that look like you, talk like you or think like you), perhaps it’s more important to get to know those who are least like you. Stretch beyond what is comfortable and strive to know your world. Because I believe that it’s hard to hate those that you have taken the time and interest to know and understand.

I pray for those who lost their lives on 9/11 but I also pray that my children will grow up in a world that grows closer together rather than farther apart. If it has to start somewhere, let it start with them. Let it start with me.

It’s 8:00 p.m. Bed time for the twins. Andrea is taking care of Jonathan while I have Swee’Pea. We have just finished feeding them. The lights are low and, as part of the bedtime ritual, a CD of instrumental lullabies is playing softly in the background. No one speaks as we quietly wind the babies down and prepare them for sleep.

Swee’Pea rests on my shoulder as I rub her back. She is quiet and not at all fidgety. She has just eaten 5 oz of breast milk and is feeling sleepy. She nestles her face towards my neck. In this instant we are both very relaxed. Daddy is tired too and I feel my eyes droop as the darkness and soft music bathe over us like a warm summer’s night.

“BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!!!!”

A long, loud, violent, vibrating sound ricochets off the wall. Startled out of my daze I jump about a foot out of the chair, while tightly clutching Swee’Pea to my chest. My heart is racing and my eyes are as wide as Buckwheat’s.

Swee’Pea breathes a sigh of relief – having just delivered the loudest belch in modern-day history. She relaxes once again and snuggles closer into my neck. She is ready to go to bed. Now, clearly awake, I put her to bed and give her a kiss goodnight.

Okay, Sweetie. I deserved that.

When we first discovered we were having twins and after I recovered from the shock of having two babies instead of the one we had been planning on, I began to form in my mind what the babies would be like when they arrived. This was particularly hard since we didn’t know the sex of either baby yet. I have an active imagination, however, and I did pretty well imagining all the baby-like qualities of the twins. I pictured cute, round faces, lots of cooing and a smile here and there. Basically, I pictured every baby on television commercials.

What I didn’t think of and couldn’t even begin to imagine was how different they would be. It never dawned on me that baby 1 and baby 2 would be so wonderfully different. In fact, in the past few weeks I have noticed a tremendous change in how I view the little ones. Instead of something to feed and change and feed again, and change again, they are little human beings that interact with me in their own special ways.

Bri will smile at me and just melt my heart. In the early morning I feed her and gaze into her eyes. We stare at each other for long periods and suddenly Swee’Pea will smile around the nipple of the bottle. It’s as if she’s mocking her old man for loving her so darn much. Her personality is so happy that when she gets cranky her facial expressions alternate between laughing and crying as if she’s doing a pretty darn good impression of the Tragedy and Comedy masks. When I put her down to take a nap after feeding her in the morning, she smiles and coos at me and we have little conversations that don’t mean anything, but really mean everything. She also has her mother’s determination. She has not been that great at breast feeding but seems to be trying really hard at it. Now, that hard work is paying off and lately she has been feeding like a barracuda (I’m so glad I don’t have to know what that feels like). The amazing this is that nothing seems to bother this little girl. I get the feeling she could be bitten by a dog and be excited about getting to touch the dog. Swee’Pea is a sweet, sweet baby. There’s just no other way to describe her.

Jonathan, on the other hand, is completely different than his sister. From the beginning he has cried more and when he first started communicating, all he did was grumble. He is very cuddly and loves to be held. When I come home from work and see him for the first time, I’m greeted with smiles and he seems to melt into me as I pick him up for a long overdue hug. He knows the sound of my voice and will follow me across the room. When we make eye contact, I’ll smile and he smiles right back. Recently, he picked up a new trick. Unknowingly, as I over-emoted in front of him while playing, I was raising and lowering my eyebrows at a quick rate. Suddenly, he got a look of deep concentration on his face and then, in a quick moment, his eyebrows darted up and then down. He looked at me, I looked at him and we both broke into smiles. At night, Jonathan is a handful. He continues to wake up at night sounding congested. I continue to do all I can to help the little guy and hopefully we’ll get this thing figured out soon. He loves to sleep on my belly and it’s those times that I feel so very close to the little guy. But I can’t let him get used to sleeping on me every night so I try to limit it. If I could, I’d have him sleep on my belly every night.

How lucky am I? Yes, I panicked a little when I found out we were having twins, but I can’t imagine my life any other way. These two little ones are my children. My daughter. My son. How very strange and how very wonderful do those words sound. And the best part? If the first 3 months have been this great, I can only imagine what the future will bring.

The Good News is that Jonathan finally slept through the night! We made him a little upright sleeping spot in his crib (basically it looked like he was sleeping in a little mini-recliner) in hopes that would help his congestion that seems to hit him in the middle of the night. It worked! We didn’t hear from him until 6:00 a.m. this morning.

So, did I get a full night of uninterrupted sleep?

Uh, no. That’s where the Bad News comes in.

The Bad News is that Swee’Pea, for the first time in weeks, woke up crying with the fullest, wettest diaper I have ever seen. Amazingly, her nightgown and her bedding were completely dry. (Let’s hear it for Huggies!) Nevertheless, Daddy was up at 4:00 a.m. changing Swee’Pea’s diaper while chuckling at the irony of Swee’Pea thwarting my chances of sleeping through the night.

I made it a quick change, however, and was back in bed within five minutes. I must have drifted off to sleep rather quickly because the next thing I know, I’m being awakened by something nipping at my hand. That “something” was Nutmeg the cat who must have been confused at the sudden change of schedule (she usually gets up with me when I deal with TheMonk’s early rising). I glance at the clock. It’s 5:15 a.m. I bury myself under the covers, forcing Nutmeg to find someone else to bug. I drift off to sleep once again.

30 minutes later the babies start to cry. It’s feeding time.

It’s 6:45 a.m. and I’ve been awake for the past hour. I have been awake because one or both of the babies is always hungry at 6:00 a.m. In fact, at 5:45 I heard one of them stirring and went to get the bottles ready. I have to be ready because nobody should have to be subjected to unadulterated baby rage at 6:00 a.m. And, believe me, my babies can get pissed faster than a New York minute.

So, here I am, bottles ready and not even a peep from the bedroom. I have peeked in just to make sure they’re alive. They are. So no need to really worry. I guess I just have to wait. But I’m definitely going to have to remind them about the importance of The Schedule. Defying the schedule is simply unacceptable.

In the process of changing over to my new blog address I somehow gave up my right to my old blogspot address. I found this out this morning when I logged on and my old blog address came up on the screen but it was something entirely different from my own blog. While transferring over all the old posts to the new blog, I had to tell blogger I was publishing to a new URL. Apparently, when you do that, Blogger assumes you no longer need your old blogspot address and it becomes fair game.

*Sigh*

It appears there is nothing I can do. I am sad that many people were just beginning to get a feel for what this blog is about and now will find it difficult, if not impossible, to find me here. Oh well, I’ll just keep on writing and hopefully new people will find me out here in the nether regions of the Internet.

In the past I have written about just how painful operating on 3 to 4 hours a sleep a night can be. The first 6 to 8 weeks were the most difficult period of time I have ever encountered. On one hand I had these two beautiful babies that I loved with all of my heart. On the other hand, I was cranky, tired, and feeling disconnected from everything.

The good news is that things have been gradually getting better. It started about 3 weeks ago when Swee’Pea began sleeping through the night. One night, we were feeding her at 8:00 p.m. 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. and the next night she skipped the 11:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. feedings and has never looked back.

Jonathan, however, has been a different story.

From the beginning, TheMonk has been difficult when it comes to eating and sleeping. He had a touch of reflux and he also does not handle changes in humidity well. He wakes up at night and has trouble breathing. Being the loving father (and the sleepy, wanting-to-go-back-to-sleep father) that I am, I would take TheMonk back to bed and let him sleep on my belly. Often, it was the only way to appease him. It certainly was the easiest. So, after waiting for TheMonk to catch up to Swee’Pea in the sleep through the night department, we noticed a pattern. While we finally got him to skip the 11:00 p.m. feeding, he was still waking up at 3:00 a.m. like clockwork. I would feed him but we started to reduce the amount. Even after feeding it would take having him on my belly to go back to sleep.

This had to stop.

So, two nights ago I got tough. When TheMonk awoke at 3:00 a.m. I picked him up, soothed him and them put him right back down. After 20 minutes of doing this I somehow stuck my finger in his mouth where he started sucking and calmed down considerably. Now TheMonk normally doesn’t like pacifiers. Swee’Pea uses them to sleep but that’s it. So after 15 minutes with my finger in TheMonk’s mouth I finally thought, “Okay, I can’t stand here all night.” So, I ran and got a pacifier from Swee’Pea, stuck it into TheMonk’s mouth and prayed. Well, what do you know? In about 5 minutes Jonathan was asleep with no feeding and no belly sleeping.

Last night, he again awoke at 3:00 a.m. This time, I didn’t pick him up. I placed the pacifier in this mouth. He spit it out. I put it in again. He spit it out again. I put it in and, this time, held it in his mouth. Seeing he was up against a man who really wanted to sleep and had no intention of playing “fetch” with the pacifier, Jonathan started sucking and sucked himself to sleep in about 5 minutes.

So, I am this close to getting a full night’s sleep. I can taste it! Will tonight be the night? Maybe, maybe not. But it’s coming folks. It’s coming.