There once was a baby named Bri
Who was as sweet as a girl could be
Then one day her rage
Took center stage
And her poor parents had nowhere to flee

[To see what that rage looks like, go here.]

Your eyes. Usually so bright and cheerful are blurred and dreary. It is these eyes that look at me now. I return your gaze and I see confusion and exhaustion and a pleading look that says, “Daddy, make me feel better.” You see, you are sick my little one. Your mother knows more about your illness than I do, but all I see is one sick little girl who wants her Daddy to make her feel better.

I so want to make you feel better Sweetheart. In my mind, that’s what Daddies do. However, I cannot just make your awful illness go away. Instead, I smile a sad smile and I pick you up and bring you close like I’ve done a thousand times. Only this time your feverish skin is hot to my touch. Your whimpers mingle with the wheezing echoing in your chest from each short little breath you take. Your little arms wrap themselves around my neck and you hang there, in my arms, and rest. You can breath now and I can feel the never-ending flow of mucous ooze from your little nose and onto my shoulder. I don’t mind. It’s a small price to pay for your moment of rest here in your Daddy’s arms. I kiss the top of your head and I feel the heat in my lips.

After a short while I change you and take your temperature. Usually, you are very playful when you get your diaper changed. Lately, you’ve been more irritable than anything else. Today, however, you are passive. You let me clean you and give no sign that you feel the thermometer I’ve inserted. 102.4 it reads. I sigh and prepare another dose of children’s Tylenol. You take it easily and I am comforted to know your fever will subside and you’ll feel a little better.

I scoop you back up and we look at each other once again. I smile, this time bigger, and you, my little one, try gamely to smile back. It’s your nature to smile and even in sickness you give me the tiredest smile I’ve ever seen. I love you for that. And I feel so special that, even when sick, you want to give your Daddy a smile.

I can see you’re ready to sleep. I put you into your bouncy chair and gently rock you. You fight it at first. You thrash back and forth, crying a cry I have not heard before. I calm you down and you start to drift to sleep. I stay there, watching you sleep as your tear-stained face becomes motionless. Your eyelashes, while always long, look even longer when wet. You look like a very tired little angel sitting here before me. At last, your little body rests. I continue to rock the chair and gaze at the most beautiful girl in the world. Every now and then you open your eyes and glance at me, as if making sure I’m still there. Once reassured, you drift off to sleep again.

Don’t worry little Bri. Your Daddy isn’t going anywhere.

A few snapshots of the past couple of weeks…

Andrea is holding Bri and I notice she is looking at Bri’s forehead. I comment, “Hey did you notice she has one hair that is longer than the others? It’s so much longer it extends down her forehead.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Andrea replied.

“You want me to get some scissors to cut it?” I ask.

“No, we can’t cut her bang!” Says Andrea.

Like any father that is married to a pediatric physical therapist, I have been making sure the babies get plenty of tummy time. I usually play with them, shoving their favorite toys in front of their face and then get them to try and reach for them. As the weeks have gone on, I have become more confident and I’ve been working with both JT and Bri at the same time. I’ll usually get one going with some toys in front of them and then go to the other to play. Eventually, I’ll switch to the other baby.

Recently, JT has figured out how to lay comfortably on his belly, with his head to the side so he can breathe. So now, whenever I leave him to start playing with Bri, after a short while I’ll look over and JT will look like he’s passed out after too much to drink. He’ll lie there comfortably with his thumb in his mouth, off in his own little world. I’ll jolt him back to reality by going over and attempting to re-engage him. Often times he looks up at me with a look that says, “Hey, lifting this big noggin is hard work! I need to rest!”

You know you’re getting older when…

After lying next to the bouncy chair and gently rocking your baby to sleep, they startle awake when all of your joints start cracking as you get off the floor.

We are putting off our holiday pictures for another week because Brianna has a big red pimple on her chin.

Never let it be said we weren’t looking out for our kids.

My Little Girl,

It has been 11 days since I have had to leave you for any length of time. During that time we have bonded in a way that is so incredible, words don’t do it justice. I mean, how can I accurately describe the smile I get each and every time you see me. Your face lights up brighter than any star imaginable. Your glow fills the room and I am powerless to resist your complete and honest love.

Sometimes, I admit, this infatuation with your Daddy isn’t the most convenient. Lately, I have had to make myself scarce during your breast feeding sessions because you would rather pull off the breast to look at me than eat. But that’s just a minor thing and while your mother and I pretend to be exasperated by it, deep down we love that you do it.

You’ve been sick lately Doodlebug. Your nose gets clogged easily and you get cranky and cry. This is so unlike you. But as soon as I pick you up to soothe you, you melt into my arms. Your little hand will grab my shirt or you’ll find my hand that supports you and wrap your tiny fingers around one of mine. Your sobs will subside into little short breaths and then you’ll exhale deeply into my neck and your body will go limp. These little moments make me so glad that I am your father.

You look so much like your mother Bri and I love looking into your eyes knowing that the love your mother and I have for each other created you. I think back to before we knew we were having a boy and a girl. I was so unsure about what it would mean to have a girl. I mean, I don’t know how to braid hair, I have never been to a tea party and when it comes to what girls wear these days, well, I’m afraid we might have some issues over what constitutes a “shirt” in the coming years. But beyond that, I’m realizing just how wonderful it is to have a little girl like you in my life. You laugh at everything. Sometimes, I have to try hard to figure out what it is you’re laughing at. Many times, I suspect you’re just laughing at me - laughing because you know just how much I’d do for you. Laughing because isn’t it funny that this guy who you’re coming to know as your Daddy will come running at any sign of distress. A cry, a hiccup, a cough - and Daddy’s there to turn that cry into a smile. Because there’s nothing better in this world than your smile. My dream for you is that smile never fades. May your special spirit always carry on and may you always meet your days the same way you meet your Daddy. With a smile.

Yes, you’re “Daddy’s little girl.” I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Daddy with Baby Bri

(Photo courtesy of mightygirl)

Milestones are happening left and right here at the Childsplay household. I’ve documented Bri’s scooting and it is important to make note of these. After all, this blog is a de facto baby book for the twins so they’ll have a record of their childhood when they’re an old fart like me.

But not every milestone is as exciting or glamorous as the next. For instance, I have scoured the baby books and the baby websites and I have found no reference to this interesting milestone:

The first time your child kicks you square in the family jewels.

Bri had this honor yesterday morning. I had her on our guest bed and was changing her diaper when I leaned over (I don’t remember why - probably to give her a kiss) when she summoned heretofore unknown powers and kicked me square in the testicles. Daddy’s knees buckled slightly but, like a boxer getting hit below the belt, I shook it off and continued the diapering.

But from now on, all diapering will be done from the side.

Yesterday, in my post, I mentioned that the babies aren’t mobile.

Uh, yeah. I was wrong.

While crawling might be a little bit down the road, Brianna discovered the joys of scooting around on her back today. JT tried this once a while ago but seems to have forgotten how liberating scooting around on one’s butt can be. Somehow I don’t think Bri is going to forget.

Andrea thinks this is funny. Daddy is going to have his hands even fuller over the next month.

A Bri-utiful flower!

While we had a great first day at the ol’ Childs Play household, JT and Bri still wanted to voice their opinions on the latest events that have transpired. What can I say? They miss their Mommy.

The Middle Finger - JT

The Middle Finger - Bri

I’m fairly certain Brianna said her first word today.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. She’s not even five months old, right? Well that’s what I thought too. But now that I’ve heard her say it a few times, I’m pretty sure she said her first word. In fact, I’m positive. What’s the word, you ask?

Onomatopoeia

Now, I know that sounds like a pretty big word for a girl to utter for her first word ever spoken but she’s said it a few times already today and it’s definitely a word. Usually, it’s in the middle of babbling something and then she’ll hit me with it. The pronouciation is not perfect but it sounds something like this…

AAAAAA-NAAAAA-MAAAAA-NAAAAA-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-AAAAAAA

See?! Tell me that’s not Onomatopoeia.

Besides, I read in one of the few many baby magazines we get here at home that Daddies tend to use bigger words around their babies than Mommies do.

So it’s obvious that the plethora of multi-syllabic morphemes that eminate from my oral cavity circadianly must have positively contributed to the stratospheric level of percipience demonstrated by my female offspring.

So, yeah, my girl said her first word.

Onomatopoeia.