I am Pavlov's Dog('s nuts)

Sunday night was odd.... in that Aidan never crawled into bed with us. One might think after roughly two years of being forced to hang half of my ever-increasing bulk off the bed in order to accommodate a child of irrationally large bed dimension (defined as the amount of square footage a body is able to occupy when spread out to maximum comfort) and/or having said child perform Riverdance and Lord of the Dance in their entirety on my testicles and or kidneys every single night that I would be thankful for the break and well rested as an outcome. One would be wrong, however; I actually had trouble sleeping. I was cold, and I couldn't get comfortable because I was flopping all over the place. Plus, I was waiting for him to come in, so I had a touch of the "waiting for the second shoe to drop" syndrome.

On top of that, I was listening to Maia sleep...and of course, with every little noise she made I got a nice healthy shot of adrenaline into my veins, so that by 4:30 or so I felt like I had drank a 6 pack of Red Bull with a healthy shot of amphetamine as a chaser. And she was making a lot of noise, because she's congested due to a very slight cold, which only seems to come out at night. So when she gets stuffy, out comes the binkie, and that makes her madder....which in turn causes her to try to head-butt her way through her mattress (which is a lot like watching a puppy try to jump up to a table and pull food off... funny, in a kind of "isn't failure cute" kind of way, but you eventually help because you're a good person, and this isn't in fact a dog but your own child, a fact that is harder than you might think to process at dark-thirty in the morning). Insert binkie, walk away, repeat again in 5-15 minutes.

Speaking of the little princess, I'm fast becoming a pro at the whole "taking care of both kids on Fridays", and a lot of that is due to Maia finally realizing that I love her as much as her mom, and will not REALLY throw her out with the bathwater (which is something I sing to her as I swing her around when she cries....sick, I know, but have we met? Besides, she seems to like it.) She also seems to be getting used to car rides, which is proof positive that there is a God....because when I have nothing else to do with the kids, Aidan is ALWAYS up for a long drive to see the country, and it passes the time nicely. So basically, I've graduated from stationary neglect-o-matic swing to moving neglect-o-matic carseat.

Who said an old dog can't learn new tricks?

I Survived!

First, let me apologize... I know it's been awhile since the last post, but there's a good reason for it. You see, I took a few weeks off work to stay home with Maia while Mom went back to work. And, as you can imagine, the combination of colicky baby + no tag team made for one tired me at the end of every day. Thus, no time for updates, only time for cramming food in my mouth and zombie-ing out in front of the TV once reinforcements got home.

As with Aidan, in the beginning it was basically an all-day cry-fest; this time, however, we had the help of the magic baby sling. I think this think is made out of pure morphine; as soon as we put Maia in it she calms down and blisses for a few hours. Which is cool, except it's a little hard on my back. Also, she only does that if you keep moving....but have no fear, I managed to fight through the pain and sway constantly while playing Super Smash Brothers as she slept. At least she takes bottles like a champ, although she does really resent having to stop while I burp her. As you'd expect from a child of mine, she'd much rather just puke half of it back up on me later.

So the days with just her were rough, but I managed to learn some new skills. I can now make a PB & J while holding a baby, as well as many other foods such as cocoa (from scratch, none of that powdered crap thank you very much), pizza, and mac and cheese. I can also put away the dishes, take a whiz, and put my shoes on, all with one or no hands. But the creme de la creme as far as dad tricks go is managing this past Friday. See, Aidan is always home on Fridays, so I had BOTH kids....plus, our TV was being fixed, so I didn't even have that to distract him. I think I get an award or something for this, check it out: I took a 2 month old and a 2.5 yr-old to the grocery store, put the groceries away, fed them both, put Aidan down for a nap while holding Maia, carried BOTH of them down the stairs, and even took them BACK out to the drug store later....all without breaking anything, setting anything on fire, or selling either child to gypsies.

But enough about me... let me tell you about the kids. Maia is now definitely smiling at us, and I think she's ticklish. Either that or I look like Funzo the half-retarded clown when I tickle her, and it amuses her. She's also started cooing a little, which I forgot babies do, and grabbing at stuff. Before you know it, she'll be firing My Little Pony toys at her brother's head. She's also finally used to me and no longer starts screaming the minute I touch her skin, which is kinda comforting, since now I can take her places in public without fear of someone notifying the authorities that I've clearly stolen this child.

For his part, Aidan continues practicing his mastery of the English language. The other day, he opened the fridge while I was in the other room, and proclaimed "Daddy! I opened a beer." Super. I can't wait to explain that one to his grandparents..... 'Dad, need a beer? Aidan will get it. And he makes a mean Martini, too.' He's also growing fond of telling us that he's allowed to do things. Literally. As in, he'll climb somewhere precarious, and I'll give him the hey-kid-you're-gonna-get-in-trouble "Aidan....." dad voice, and he'll just look at me and say "I'm allowed to, daddy." Smart kids kinda suck sometimes, seriously. Because I honestly forget he's not even 3 yet, and it's impossible to rationalize or ascertain motives of a two year old's actions.

And, as usual, I almost managed to screw the kid up again. Who here is surprised? Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyway, we have a rabbit who's taken up residence in our backyard, so I told Aidan we should name it. And here, kind reader, is that conversation verbatim:

Dad: "Aidan, what should we name our rabbit?"
Aidan: "Ummmm...."
Dad: "How about George?" (I was thinking about the old Bugs Bunny cartoons, where the big fuzzy monster names Bugs George and hugs him and loves him etc, etc....yeah, I realize I'm not exactly normal in my associations.)
Aidan: "No, daddy....Ummmmm..."
Dad: "How about Petey?" (Thinking of Peter Rabbit)
Aidan: "YEAH!!! Mommy, look, Pee-pee Rabbit!"
Mom: (shoots me the Look)
Aidan: "Mom! Pee-pee Rabbit! He live here!"
Dad: "Let's call him George."
Aidan: "Pee-pee."

In the end, though, I managed to get him calling the stupid rabbit George. Years from now, he'll remember his rabbit, and wonder why he called it George. And I'll be senile and forget, and tell him he named it that.... which is what I'm convinced MY parents did, because as a kid I had two turtles named Homer and Jethro, and they SWEAR I named them. I was like 3, so I seriously doubt it, but they're not talkin'.

Ah, another family tradition....