I can’t think of anything to write about (well, there’s one thing that relates to my last post – but I don’t want to jinx a good thing) so I’m leaving you with some new pics of TheMonk and Swee’Pea. Check them out on the right or go to my flickr account.

Have a great weekend!

I lie awake. It’s late at night – or early morning. I’m not sure so I turn to look at the clock. It’s 5:15 a.m. The stillness of the early morning is incredible. I hear Andrea sleeping soundly next to me and I think back to the night before. Did I have to get up to comfort a baby? Yes, once. It was TheMonk this time and it was quick and easy. A pat on his little body was all he needed to go back to sleep. That was about midnight. Since then, I’ve had uninterrupted sleep. For weeks, Swee’Pea has been waking up between 4:30 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. and will not go back to sleep in her crib. I’ve had to hold her in my arms out in the loft to get her back to sleep. So, now I wait for Swee’Pea’s familiar cry to go get her – before she wakes up TheMonk.

It’s now 5:30 a.m. I continue to wait. A fleeting thought crosses my mind. “Maybe she’s dead.” I think. I nervously laugh off that thought and tell myself that everything’s fine. I should enjoy this extra time to sleep in. I try to drift off to sleep but my brain keeps waiting for the cry. It’s gotta happen anytime now.

5:45 a.m. Now, I’m getting nervous. I haven’t heard a peep over the baby monitor. What if both are dead? What if, I go in the room and both are dead. How could I live with myself knowing that I was lying in bed letting my children die in the room down the hall? STOP! Get these thoughts out of your mind. They’re fine. Really. Go back to sleep for God’s sake! Besides, what’s the chance that both are dead? Very slim. Go back to sleep.

Andrea has now gotten up to shower. I continue to lie there in the room as light starts to creep in from outside. The covers are nice and cozy. I don’t want to get up.

But what if the babies are dead?

THEY’RE NOT DEAD YOU MORON – THEY’RE SLEEPING!!! LIKE YOU SHOULD BE DOING!!!!

6:00 a.m. I can’t stand it any more. Even though I still have 10 minutes before I have to get them up, I get out of bed and head towards the room. Nutmeg the cat, sensing my sense of purpose (or maybe she just wanted a treat), follows along. I quietly open the door. TheMonk’s head pops up to look at me. His binky is still in his mouth. He smiles and I go to get him. As I do, I hear Swee’Pea start to stir.

As I head out the door, with a very-much-alive TheMonk in my arms. I glance down and make eye contact with Nutmeg. I smile at her and say, “I knew they were alive all along.”

Nutmeg turns and heads down the hall with her tail in the air. “Sure you did.” she seems to be saying.

This weekend was a rough weekend, even by twin-parent standards, there was a lot to do. In fact, I was so busy I didn’t have much opportunity to turn on the television. Which, for me, says a lot.

So, it goes without saying that if the TV can go long periods of time with no use, then we probably don’t see too many movies either. In fact, before the twins were born, we anticipated watching movies at home rather than in the theater so we signed up for Netflix where you choose your movies on-line and they mail a couple to you every time you send one back. I think we bought this service in April or May of 2005 prior to Andrea going on maternity leave. It’s been almost a year and we have watched a total of four movies. Right now, The Notebook and Napoleon Dynamite sit in our entertainment center (guess who picked The Notebook and who picked Napoleon Dynamite – my occasional mushy posts aside, I’m not really a Notebook kind of guy) and have been there for at least four or five months.

So, with all of this information, imagine my surprise when I turned on the radio this morning in the car on the way to work and they are discussing the Oscar winners from the previous night.

I had no idea the Oscar’s were even on. I have not seen one movie that was nominated for an Oscar (not even March of the Penguins because I hear a baby penguin dies and it’s the dad’s fault. I can’t take that kind of heart wrenching). I haven’t even heard of half the movies – including the winner for Best Picture – Crash.

So, my dream is simple. My dream is that one day I will have a three hour window of time to go to a movie theatre, buy a big tub of popcorn with extra butter and a large Mr. Pibb, and watch a move with all of the previews. Hell, right now I’d settle for an hour and a half in front of the TV watching Napoleon Dynamite, eating a bag of stale microwave popcorn, drinking a diet Hansen’s soda and fast forwarding through any scenes that look like they might not be relevant to the plot.

*Sigh* Someday.

To my Son,

Lately, I have been thinking about what it will be like to be your daddy as you grow up. In the past 8 to 9 months you have become such a part of me that I can’t hardly remember what it was like before I had you. From the moment I first held you I wanted you like I never knew I would. And over time, I have come to realize that our souls have intertwined in a way that the word “love” doesn’t accurately describe.

You are my son. What that means to me, you will never know. As I have watched you grow, I have become your biggest fan. I love everything about you. I love the way you grumble when you’re upset. I love your sweet grunt-like laugh that has been plentiful as of late. I love the way you reach out to touch everything in sight. I love the way you look at me – a look of love that causes my spirits to soar.

In the time that I have fallen more and more in love with you, I have wanted so many things for you. I want you to be successful in whatever you decide to do in life. I want you to know love the way I know love with your mother. I want you to be close to your sister for life – because having family available to you in happy and especially difficult times is so important. And I want you to be happy. Above all else, that’s what it comes down to. Your happiness is all I need.

Today, I held you in my arms and kissed your chubby cheeks. I savored the softness of those cheeks held tightly against mine. I laughed with you like we’ve never laughed before. As we shared this time, I felt a sense of vulnerability that I imagine only another parent can understand. I want what’s best for you Monk. As your daddy I promise you that I will do everything I can to keep you safe, to help you grow into a fine young man, to learn to love like I love you. But even then, I know there may be things beyond my control – and that scares me. It frightens me like no other because if I can’t save you from everything, then what am I here for?

I have so loved the past 8 months and three weeks. I can only imagine what the coming years hold. All I know is that you and I will do this together. I’ll have you and you’ll have me. That will have to be enough.

I love you son.

-Your Daddy.

It’s raining here in San Diego for the first time in months.

It’s about time.

For a while there, I thought I was actually going to have to wash my car.

A calm has settled over the Childsplayx2 household. What has been almost a week of high shrieking winds, oozing nasal cavities and sleepless nights of huddled parents waiting for yet another storm to hit from the western bedroom has now been reduced to gentle breezes with just an occasional gust.

This morning, I lie awake at 5:15 am waiting for one of the babies – most likely Swee’Pea – to demand I come wipe their nose or help them breathe or just get them out of this miserably wet diaper- something that has become the norm over the past week as we coped with wave after wave of congestion and crankiness. Today was different, however, as I waited for 45 minutes until finally, Swee’Pea started to cheerfully chat.

I crept down the hall waiting for the usual explosion of anger that words cannot accurately describe. These outbursts loosley translate into “GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE OLD MAN AND WIPE MY FRIGGIN’ NOSE! NOW!” However, today I opened the door to find Bri… smiling. Breathing a sigh of relief, I scooped her up and brought her out to the chaise for some last-minute cuddling. We lay there as she cooed and smiled and her tiny hands played with my big nose. We smiled and talked and kissed.

“So, is my little happy Swee’Pea back?” I whispered to Swee’Pea as I looked into her beautiful eyes.

“Da-Da” She replied as she reached for my nose again.

Yep. Swee’ Pea Swee’Pea’s back.

I went to college in New York City. In New York, the panhandlers have perfected their art in a way that no would could imagine without actually seeing it. Some would perform music, others magic tricks, and some would just look really, really down. Little did I know that in my future, I would have something in common with the panhandlers. I ask for money for a living.

There was one panhandler near campus that the students called “Shorty” (I’m guessing because he stood about 4’11″ – with afro. Hey, we weren’t the wittiest bunch, so Shorty was all we could come up with). Shorty would follow you for half a block telling jokes and then he’d end his request with one of the following taglines…

“What’s the richest nation in the world?” (pause) “DO-NATION”

or, my favorite…

“You don’t have to be a Rockefeller to help a Little Fella.”

What’s my point? Well, a month ago, I wrote a post about my Y*M*C*A and how we are raising money to help the low-income community that we serve. My Y is not a new, sparkling Y with BMW’s and Audi’s in the parking lot. It’s clean, well kept and a place for families to come get help with childcare, for seniors to come and find kinship with fellow seniors, and for kids to play sports or learn to swim. It’s not glitzy, but we serve thousands of people each year.

Our goal was to raise $116,000 in the past month. We’re currently $5,000 short of our goal. Some of my fellow bloggers have already been gracious enough to donate (see my blogroll of the month on the right). I am humbled by their generosity. If you are reading this today, I ask you to consider donating to this worthy cause. Your donation could help make the life of a single mom, a child with no father or a senior without a spouse to feel a bit better in the coming year.

To make a donation, click here and make sure you designate your gift to the “Y*M*C*A”.

Remember, you don’t have to be a Rockefeller to help a little fella.

Thank you. And please email me at Childsplayx2@gmail.com and let me know of your donation so I can thank you personally.