TheMonk and Swee’Pea sit side-by-side in their highchairs as I put chopped steamed vegetables on their respective trays. Swee’Pea begins to eat hers by delicately picking up each small bite and putting it into her mouth. TheMonk is not feeling well today, however, and because TheMonk is sick, he is not in the mood for vegetables. Instead of eating the vegetables, he casually begins to pick up each piece and drop it to the ground.

As Swee’Pea notices this, she announces that she recognizes what TheMonk is doing by saying to no one in particular…

“Uh… Oh…”

To my little ones,

Today is your mother’s birthday. And while as you get older (notice I said, older not old) birthdays aren’t the spectacles they once were, it’s still a time to look back on our lives and reflect. And I’m sure I can speak for your mother when I say that in that reflection she only sees you.

Your mother loves you so much, little ones. There is nothing in this world that she would not do for you. In fact, when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she could only think of something for you… A bike trailer so we can go bike riding together as a family. (She’s also getting a long overdue spa treatment too, but that’s from you guys). She spent the past year nursing you two and the bond she has created is wonderful to see. You light up when you see your mother and she lights up when she sees you.

This morning, as your mother came down the stairs to see you, you waited at the bottom of the stairs with birthday cards that you had “signed”. I know your mother loved sharing her special day with her special little ones tday. You make every day special - especially birthdays.

So, as you get older, remember how much your mommy loves you. On her birthday you don’t need to get her fancy things or expensive gifts, just give her lots of love (although if you become rich, you better pony up - I mean this woman nursed you both for a year for Pete’s sake!). It’s what she wants most.

Love,
Daddy.

How do you make your mommy feel better after a long day at work?

When Mommy comes to pick you up at daycare and the woman daycare provider who is with you all day, five days a week, hands you to your mother, who misses you terribly all day long, you immediately point to the door and shout…

“GO!” (Translation: Let’s get out of here Mommy!)

(Good move Swee’Pea)

You are sitting across the room, quietly playing with a toy on your lap. You are deep in thought as you focus on the ball in your little hands. Your sister is standing at the window as she goes up on her tiptoes to peek outside. You ignore her shrieks for now.

After a while, you must sense that you are being watched as you look up and turn your attention to where I am sitting. I smile a warm but subdued smile to match your mood. Your eyes sparkle as you return my smile. We gaze into each other’s eyes and in that moment my heart melts. I notice, as is often the case nowadays, that your face looks different this morning. Older. Less baby, more little boy.

I climb down onto the floor and come sit by your side. You smile again and scamper to your knees as you climb up onto my lap. I help you up and embrace your little body in a firm. loving hug. You rest your head on my chest as I whisper into your ear.

“I love you so much, little man. You Daddy loves you with all of his heart. Thank you for being my son.”

I hold you tight and tenderly kiss your forehead. You are patient with your father and snuggle into my arms for a few more moments. Finally, you notice your sister at the window and decide you’d like to check out what she sees. You climb down off my lap and I watch you crawl across the room toward your sister. As you reach her, you look back over your shoulder at me to see if I’m still watching.

I am and you smile once again, secure in knowing that Daddy is still there when you need him. You pull yourself up and stare out the window - out into the world or, perhaps, your future. A future that always include a Daddy who loves you.

Unless he’s sleepy or hungry, TheMonk is a pretty mellow guy. And unlike his sister, he doesn’t get too excited when he hears music. Swee’Pea will hear a ringtone on a cell phone and start to dance. TheMonk, on the other hand, definitely has his favorites. As a matter of fact, TheMonk has exactly four favorite songs.

They are…

1) Wheels on the Bus
2) Itsy Bitsy Spider
3) Mr. Knickerbocker
4) A Bad Day (Daniel Powter)

The first three are classic children’s songs that Mommy and Daddy have embellished a little along the way. For instance, TheMonk’s favorite part of the Wheels on the Bus is the people on the bus who go “up and down.” When they go up, TheMonk goes up in the air. When they go down, TheMonk goes down. He loves it.

Itsy Bitsy Spider is an interactive game. He loves the theatrics of the spider going up the spout.

Mr. Knickerbocker is a song I was not familiar with prior to parenthood but TheMonk and I love it. I love singing it to him in a dorky voice (Not a word, mother). I get very animated singing the “boppity bop” part and we laugh as I tickle his belly.

Finally, Bad Day was a favorite of mine when it first came out. Whenever we would hear it on the radio (which, frankly, was quite a bit) I’d pick him up and swing him around the room as we sang about our “bad day.”

The best part about his love for these songs is that he recognizes the songs sometimes even before I do. I’ll look over at his face and he’ll already be smiling in anticipation as I grab him and sing out loud while he laughs out loud with Daddy.

Now excuse me, Mr. Knickerbocker awaits.

Swee’Pea has begun to repeat words at a frantic pace. One of her latest words is “yogurt.” I had been trying to get her to say it every morning when I fed her breakfast but had yet to hear her say it. However, when I arrived home on Wednesday night, bath night, I was told by Andrea that Swee’Pea had finally said “yogurt.” “Except, it comes out ‘go-gurt’” Andrea told me. Caught up in the excitement of the new word, I tried to get her say it. But, unfortunately, she just looked at me strangely as I repeated “yogurt, yogurt!” over and over again.

Finally, I gave up and proceeded to take TheMonk up for his bath. On Wednesdays I have the twins by myself during bath time so it isn’t possible to bathe them both at the same time without risking serious injury or extreme crankiness from the one who gets left in the empty tub while I dry and dress the other one. As a result, Swee’Pea is placed into the Pack-n-Play in the next room while I bathe TheMonk and she waits her turn for her bath. Often times, I can hear Swee’Pea chattering away while I’m giving TheMonk his bath.

On this night, I can hear Swee’Pea chattering and then I hear her call out to me. “Dada!” she yells.

I ignore her while giving TheMonk one-on-one time that we rarely get around here. I do this knowing that she too will get one-on-one time in just a few minutes.

Swee’Pea is not about to be ignored, however. “DADA!” she yells out once again.

Again, I ignore her.

Now, Swee’Pea is beginning to get desperate and her cunning little mind knows that I get very excited whenever I hear her say a new word.

It is at this moment that she decides to unleash her secret weapon.

“Dada! Go-gurt! GO-GURT! DADA!”

I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing and from the bathroom, I yell back, “That’s my girl!”

Satisfied, Swee’Pea goes back to chattering to herself.

For some time I have contemplated becoming more anonymous on this blog. I even petitioned the blogosphere a ways back for some advice on what to call my two little rugrats. I did a search on famous pairs in history (unfortunately most famous male/female duos were tragic lovers or criminals) to no avail. So, I let it sit. But once again, I have been thinking it might be time to be a little less “out there” and I finally feel it’s time to take J*T* and B*r*i underground.

While I have already taken measures to protect us from someone tracking us down (no last names on the blog, exact city where we live is omitted, etc.), it is still possible for anyone who knows us to type in key information in google and up pops our blog. This is problematic in that there are probably people out there that know who we are that we would rather not read our day-to-day activities.

So, from here on out, the twins will be referred to as Swee’Pea and TheMonk. Swee’Pea is a nickname that has evolved within our family and TheMonk is a variation of my first nickname for He Who Must Not Again Be Named - Chunky Monk.

Eventually I’ll give myself and the wife a nickname too. But we’re gonna test drive the twins’ names first. Those of you who already know the real names, I’m trusting you to keep the secret! If you leave comments (and I hope you do!), please refer to them with their new names.

Thanks. Carry on.

She’d made up her mind
She’d show him who’s boss
‘Cause she had no intention
of eating apple sauce

She cried out in protest
She looked at him cross
She stuck out her tongue
filled with apple sauce

Her brother looked over
His gain was her loss
As he happily ate
all the apple sauce

She continued to cry
She continued to toss
Anything that resembled
That damn apple sauce

But, hey, is that yogurt?!
No more apple sauce?
Oh, okay, she’ll eat that
Now why does daddy look cross?

TheMonk isn’t walking yet. He can’t walk but he can pull himself up on just about anything. Lately, however, pulling up isn’t enough. Now he wants to climb.

I’m sitting on our couch in the formal living room twins’ playroom with toys scattered across the floor, including the XXXL-sized Lego blocks that have become major stepping hazards. I watch TheMonk make his rounds and he approaches his exersaucer from the outside. Since the twins have been mobile they have spent very little time in the exersaucer but they enjoy pulling up on it and playing with the assorted toys from the outside. As TheMonk approaches, he pulls himself to a stand and then tries to climb in by putting his forearms flat on top and trying to pull his chunky body up. He goes up on his tip toes, but not any further.

Not at all daunted, he plops down on his butt and makes his way over to the baby-sized scattered legos. He chooses the largest-sized lego and pushes it back towards the exersaucer. I watch with interest as he pushes the Lego right alongside the exersaucer. He again pulls himself up to a standing position. This time, HE STEPS ONTO THE LEGO BLOCK AND USES IT AS A STEP UP TO TRY AND CLIMB ONTO THE EXERSAUCER!

I rush over and scoop him up. “Oh, no you don’t!” I say. He laughs as I tickle him and I distract him and move him away. He’s continues to laugh and crawls away as I let him go.

He seems oblivious to the fact that his old man now realizes his life is, once again, about to change.

If someone were to ask me to describe my daughter in one word, that word would be “passionate.” Even at almost-14-months, Swee’Pea has passion. She doesn’t just “do” something, she puts all she’s got into everything she does. Unfortunately she puts just as much effort into her tantrums as she does into her gleeful yells. But at least she’s passionate.

It is something that, as her father, I hope she never loses. As the eloquent Ice-T once said, “Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a better place.” It is so wonderful to see Swee’Pea’s ability to express love and passion so effortlessly. She gives kisses when the mood strikes. She throws up her hands in a celebratory “touchdown” salute whenever she gets the urge to celebrate - whether it be a particularly good bite of yogurt or Daddy telling her how much he loves her - the hands thrown up in the air is pure passion.

She crawls with passion. Never have I seen her saunter toward her destination. Often times she’ll put her head down and crawl-crawl-crawl as quick as she can without stopping to look where she’s going. She may run into walls every now and then, but she does it passionately.

And then there are those afore-mentioned tantrums. She is still learning that she will not always get her way. She is still convinced that somehow by throwing her body down on the floor and kicking and screaming that she will get what she wants. It may not work, but at least she’s passionate about it.

She is “talking” up a storm lately. She has some serious conversations with whoever will listen (usually with TheMonk). Every now and then a word comes out and I get so excited, we do the “touchdown” dance over and over. This week, however, I was driving home after work and I called home to tell Andrea when I would be arriving. Andrea put me on speakerphone and I started to say hi to both TheMonk and Swee’Pea. Swee’Pea, upon hearing my voice, yelled into the phone, “Hi, Daddy!” Andrea and I both froze, not sure if she really said what we thought she said. Then, as if to answer our questions, she yelled it again. “Hi, Daddy!” I started saying “Hi, Swee’Pea!” I did this over and over again and Swee’Pea repeated those wonderful two words a few more times. “Hi, Daddy!” With passion, of course.

After I hung up the phone, I felt an overwhelming desire to do the “touchdown” dance. The other drivers on the road, I’m sure, were happy that I restrained myself.

My girl’s got passion.