As Swee’Pea and TheMonk continue to expand their vocabulary, they have adopted a phrase that I’m willing to bet most singletons (that’s what us twin parents call those unfortunate enough to be born alone) don’t utter at such an early age. The phase?

My Turn!

Lately, Swee’Pea and TheMonk will announce that it’s their turn whenever they want to do something that the other is doing. Playing with Daddy, going for a swing, getting their omoxycillin… you name it, eventually you will hear, “MY TURN!”

Just one question…

When is it ever my turn?

A while ago, Christine honored me with a Thinking Blogger Award. Then, Debra did the same. I cannot tell you how honored I am to be thought of in this way. When I started this blog never did I think that other people would be interested in the chronicles of Swee’Pea and TheMonk. But somehow the joy I have for parenting these two little ones seems to speak to others. And that makes me glad.

So, while this is WAY overdue I have been thinking of some other bloggers that may make me go hmmmmmm. And in the spirit of this meme I’ll be glad to pass this award to the following bloggers…

1) African American Dad. I really enjoy Keith’s perspective of parenting. His unique perspective of parenting an African American young boy in today’s society always makes me think of my own son and how race and ethnicity can play such a big role in who we are.

2) How About Two? When Rob lost his son shortly after birth, my heart felt so heavy for him and his family. What has struck me since is the incredible strength he has shown and his outlook on life that inspires me to not take anything for granted.

3) Back To Me. Samantha Jo is one of those people who just seem sooooo… nice. She leaves me lovely messages when I post new pics of the twins and she’s just a very sweet person. I also love that she’s into protecting animals and seems so passionate about it. I respect those who aren’t afraid to show they care.

Okay, I can’t think of any more. If I may confess, my blog reading has dropped dramatically in the past month or so since work has been kicking my butt. Hopefully I’ll get to visit all those on my blogroll real soon.

That’s enough thinking for today. My head hurts.

If you’re a baseball fan, and then on top of that you happen to be a dad, and you just so happen to be the dad of a baby boy, you probably have thought about your son playing baseball.

And if you happen to be a dad who married a woman who happens to be left handed you might dream of a sweet left-handed swing that propels your boy to the major leagues.

And for the first two years of your son’s life you just might be watching for signs of one-handed dominance. Is he right handed or is he left handed? What hand is he eating with? What hand will he reach with?

And most importantly, what hand does he throw with?

Until today he wouldn’t throw overhand with either hand. Most of his throws were chest passes using both hands. But today… TODAY!… was different.

My boy threw with his left hand. And he threw strikes. Hard strikes.

Next stop… Cooperstown.

We are playing in our playroom when Swee’Pea walks over to the keyboard we have in the room and hits the auto button that plays a jazzy tune on demand. Just like that the room transforms from a partially lit room littered with toys to a shadowy dance hall with dozens of onlookers.

Swee’Pea begins to dance by twirling her little body while simultaneously throwing her arms in the air over and up above her head. It is a close approximation to a pirouette but I’m fairly certain she has yet to see one in her 23 months on this earth. It must come natural to her. She closes her eyes with a half-smile on her face and continues to twirl. Every now and then she changes direction and uses the entire dance floor while she throws her head back and dances to the beat of cheesy jazz. She is dancing personified. Her carefree movements and joyful expressions make me proud to see that she is not afraid to express herself to the fullest in this modern interpretation of movement and spirit.

Suddenly, I look over at TheMonk who’s standing off to the side. He is quietly doing the White Man’s Overbite in time to the music. He looks at me and sheepishly smiles but keeps on grooving in the classic non-dancer’s pose: feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, fisted hands held out in front of his body with thumbs up as if ready to go for a run. And, of course, the overbite.

I’ll leave it up to you to decide which child gets his or her dancing ability from which parent.

Where have I been you ask?

Well, no, actually no one asked.

I mean, Metrodad goes a week without posting and people apparently send out search dogs and hold candle-light vigils. But does anyone wonder where good old Matthew went? Nooooooo.

But I digress.

Anyway, if you were wondering where I’ve been this past week it would be a long story. A long story that involves barfing, body aches and deeply religious overtures to God, Buddha, Abba, Yahweh, Allah, George Burns and Morgan Freeman.

It would involve a lovely romantic tale of a married couple puking together (Thank George Burns for two and a half bathrooms) hours after their son spread bodily fluids throughout our house.

It would involve can’t-miss work meetings while aches permeated every sense and only made possible by ingesting large amounts of pain killer and swigging Imodium AD (After Death?) from the bottle.

It would involve weekend trips to the after-hours pediatrician to have ear infections diagnosed on not one but both Swee’Pea and TheMonk.

It would not involve one solid meal for four straight days.

It would involve two parents bargaining with each other and with employers to take time off to care for two sick kids but not for each other.

But as with any great story it would also feature great dramatic turns where just as it seems evil and darkness would prevail, light and the pink stuff (in the guise of Pepto and Omoxyciliin) snuffed out all evil.

The end of the story would show a calm lake with early morning sunlight breaking through the clouds to reveal a day of normalcy. A day when Mommy and Daddy went to work. A day where Swee’Pea and Monk went to daycare. A day where schedules became the norm rather than the exception.

It would have been a great story. But I’m too tired to tell it. I’m going to bed now.

No candle-light vigils, please.

Having a stressful day at work only to look down at your nice dress shirt and find a smear of banana left from your daughter’s hands when she gave you a hug goodbye that morning.

I’m in the kitchen as the twins play in the room next door. I am washing dishes as I hear the music from a Baby Einstein book being played. When I last left them, Swee’Pea was holding the book and I had to give TheMonk his tractor book to keep him distracted from trying to take Swee’Pea’s book.

Suddenly I hear the unmistakable sounds of skin being slapped. Swee’Pea has been going through a phase where she whacks poor Monk anytime she doesn’t like what he’s doing (or even when she feels like it).

I rush to the room ready to dole out a severe time out. I am preparing for Monk’s cries followed closely by Swee’Pea’s shrieks once she’s figured out she’s going on a time out.

I quickly turn the corner and locate the twins in the middle of the room. I am ready to dish out some serious punishment only to find…

Monk clapping to the beat of the music.

They both turn to look at me. I freeze. Suddenly, shifting gears, I break out into a huge smile and clap along with TheMonk. They turn their attention back to the music and I slink off to the kitchen to continue washing the dishes. Never Mind.

Mommy,

On this day, Mother’s Day, we promise…

To put on our own shoes.

To be really good sharers!

To show concern for each other.

To show our love for each other.

And not get too rough!

We’ll even attempt to change our own diapers!

We’ll help wherever we can.

We’ll wear sunscreen and sunglasses when we go outside.

We’ll try not to tattle on each other.

We won’t talk back.

And no tantrums!

But best of all we’ll give you lots of kisses and thank you for being such a great Mommy!

We love you!

TheMonk has always been the strong silent type here at the Childsplayx2 household. While Swee’Pea talks up a storm – uttering words, telling stories, with an occasional tantrum thrown in – TheMonk has been content to take a back seat when it comes to his orating skills.

The joke around here is that TheMonk is so quiet because he can’t get a word in edgewise.

It turns out, he just needed the right motivation.

Last week we had a couple of our neighbors over with their kids. In total, we had seven kids under the age of five running around our house. One set of neighbors has a daughter that is only a couple of months younger than Swee’Pea and TheMonk named Dalia. Prior to the kids arriving, we kept telling the twins all the names of their friends who would be coming. Swee’Pea would repeat the names but TheMonk didn’t seem as interested.

After all had arrived, TheMonk threw himself into the fray and played his little heart out with the whole gang. Swee’Pea, in her typical fashion, retreated and exhibited a shyness that is never present when it’s just us around the house. For once, TheMonk was able to take center stage. They played well past their bedtime and when it was time to go we said our goodbyes.

Suddenly, TheMonk realized that Dalia was leaving.

Now, he had been playing it cool the entire evening and had not even hinted that he was interested in this cute little girl. But now he wanted to say goodbye. And he didn’t just want to wave “bye-bye” he wanted a kiss. “Bye-Bye Dalia!” He said as we brought him over to give her a kiss. Planted a big one right on her.

As we put him to bed and all of the next day he would tell us whenever he got a chance that “Dalia went bye-bye.” TheMonk, it seems, is smitten.

And since then we haven’t been able to shut the kid up. He talks all the darn time. He even keeps Swee’Pea up at night while he recounts his day. Sleepless nights aside, Swee’Pea loves the newly talkative Monk as she now has someone to TALK TO! (Although she isn’t thrilled when she asks him to share a toy and he turns to her and says, “NO!”)

So, in the history of TheMonk, let it be noted that what finally pushed him to speaking in sentences was the siren song of a beautiful girl.

That’s my boy.

Swee’Pea and TheMonk have begun to play together like never before. In the past, they would play side-by-side or occasionally play together if they both wanted the same toy, but now they are really, really playing together.

A game they decided to initiate this weekend is “Hug. Hug. We all Fall Down.”

Bri usually initiates the first hug. Then, she’ll cling to TheMonk’s neck, buckle her legs and take down her brother in a move that would have made Hulk Hogan proud. To top it off, she’ll make sure that she’s on top of TheMonk and then she’ll start smacking his head and chest with her hand until we remind her to “play gentle!”

TheMonk doesn’t seem to mind, however. In fact, he’ll jump back up and start saying, “Hug. Hug?” until Swee’Pea responds by initiating her throw-down routine all over again.

It’s cute now but I gotta think, someday Swee’Pea’s going to regret this. I mean, he already outweighs her by 4 pounds or so. He ain’t gonna get any lighter.