I'm a dad, and I like beer.

Yesterday, as usual, I picked up my son from preschool.  Like every other day, there was a mass hysteria of children running around, some laughing, some crying, some two knuckles deep in a nostril... my son nowhere to be found.  His teacher called out his name and he came running around a corner.... "DADDY!!!!!!".  Even the worst of days can be wiped out with that greeting... I'm smiling now just thinking of it.  But what was even better than that was what was coming up.

His enthusiasm was only a precursor to what he had in store next.  "Come look and see what I made!!!!"  He grabbed my wrist and drug me around the corner and pointed to the ground.  There, was an interesting stack of blocks built into something that looked like a race car track driving through a castle.  There were a line of match box cars wrapping around and in through the "castle".  I asked him to tell me about it and as excitedly as I've ever seen him say, "Its the BEER STORE!!!!!"  My 5 year old had just constructed a Drive Thru at preschool.  At this point, I had to pull out my phone to snap a picture, I knew right then what the subject of my next blog would be.  Unfortunately one of his little ass-bag friends kicked his creation over before I got the chance.  (I know who you are kid.... and you aren't coming to his birthday party next year)

My pride didn't last  however, as suddenly everything in the room stopped  (except for the one kid with his finger in his nose)  and I could feel all of the other parent's eyes on me.  I looked around... yep...my kid knows what a beer store is... so much so that he built one at preschool....I get it, I'm a dickhead (You'd think I'd be use to that by now).  The teacher was kind enough to break the silence to tell him how great of a job he did on his beer store, but as she did, I could see her hand slowly reaching into her pocket to grab her phone and dial children services.  We high tailed it out of there.

Hello everyone, my name is Michael, I am a dad, and I like beer.  There... I said it.  Feel free to judge me... I don't care, I probably don't like you anyway.  I even make my own beer, and I drink that too!  I drink it on weekends, I drink it on weekdays... and I don't need to giggle through my nose "Its 5 o'clock somewhere right?" if I want to wash a burger down with one at lunch.  And sometimes.... and this will blow your mind.... I even drink more than one.

Dinner is done, the dishes are washed, my son and I played a couple of quarters of football in the driveway.... in a rain storm nonetheless (because we are men),  I gave him a bath, read him Curious George Gets a Medal, tucked him in, and kissed him 'good night'..... So here I sit, reminding myself that just because I like beer doesn't mean I'm any less of a father..... while drinking a beer.

Lagunitas Maximus:

Commercial Description:  "At the height of the heat in the heart of the summer, we felt that the only cure was a raging mouthful of fresh hops and malt. Caution: May remove enamel from teeth. This is Lagunitas IPA pumped up by about 30%!"
Style: Imperial IPA
ABV: 8.2%
IBU: 72
ratebeer.com rating: 98/100

Nectar of the gods...... Cheers!!!!!

8 "Holy Shit!?!" Moments Of Becoming a Dad

"So, how much are you selling all of your hunting gear for?"  Its a common question you get from many of your buddies when they learn that you have a child on the way.  And while you know that the question is loaded with sarcasm and underlying tones of 'smart-ass' you can't help but think, "am I actually going to have to sell my boat?"  Fears like these run around in your head like headless chickens in the months leading up to the arrival of your little bundle of no-sleep, but many of them are unwarranted, or at least, not as bad as you would have thought.  At the same time there are also a few things that you may have thought were going to be great, when in reality, not so much.  So here is my list of  "Holy Shit" moments from when the unexpected happened.

1.  Holy Shit, I still have friends!   As you get older and more and more of your friends get married and have children,  they seemingly dissappear from the face of the Earth.  But where do they go?  Surely they can't be tied up being daddy the 1199 other hours per month that they aren't sitting on your couch bitching about their life, can they?  The answer is no, we still have plenty of  friends, we just aren't friends with YOU because YOU suck.  You don't have anything to talk about, you don't know how to change a diaper, you don't clean spaghetti sauce off of ceilings, and you don't stay home on game day and watch football from the comfort of your own couch.  Those friends have moved along and made new friends, married friends, friends that they have things in common with.... that don't criticize them for having car seats in their truck or make fun of them for drinking Bud Light Lime.

2.  Holy Shit, children aren't all that expensive!  Well....okay....that isn't exactly true, but, kids are way more affordable than you thought.  The costs of having a child are up there.  $100/month for diapers, $100/month for formula, $800/month for day care.... these expenses can easily equal a second mortgage payment.  Yet the shocking part is... you still get by... and at times, even comfortably.  All that math you have been doing in your head is right, you are spending more, but you are also spending less.  Less on clothes for yourself, less on making sure you have a new car every 2 years, less on dining out, less on extravagant gifts for yourself.   Everything turns out just fine, you may not get to retire at 45 like you planned in High School... but you'll be just fine.

3.  Holy Shit, pregnant women are sexy!  36-24-36... haha, only if she's 5'3", right?  WRONG!  The years of Victoria's Secret catalogs, late night Skinamax, and reruns of Gilligan's Island had completely distorted my perception of what "sexy" is.   Sexy has little to do with skimpy lingerie dangling from unrealistically scrawny models, horny office secretaries that bump into body builder janitors in copy rooms, or conceited red headed movie stars stranded on deserted islands (or bubbly farm girls from Kansas, which ever you are into). Yes your wife was sexy before she was pregnant, but just wait.  There is just something about how they glow, how they carry themselves, and how hard you can tell they try to be a great wife as they struggle through all the difficult changes their bodies are going through.  I don't care what any woman can do with a golf ball and a garden hose, nothing is sexier than the woman who is making a baby.... OUR baby.  Oh, and don't get me started on the pregnancy boobs.

4.  Holy Shit, being bored is GREAT!  I remember my high school days, driving around in my friends mustang with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth and Dr. Dre thumping from the 15's in the hatchback.  And that's all we did, for hours on end, and we hated it.  Our town was sooooo boring and I couldn't wait to get the Hell out of there.  Even later in life, the thought of not having something to do was terrifying....nothing was worse then paging all of your friends and not one of them bothering to find a pay phone to call you back.  Now.... there are few things I look forward to more than being bored.   And that's not a bad thing.  One of my favorite things to do these days, go to Lowe's.  The quiet drive itself is enough to restore my sanity.  Walk around, look at tools, press the "Assistance Needed In The Plumbing Aisle" buttons a few times... its therapeutic.  If 36 year old me could go back and talk to 15 year old me, he'd bitch slap him and tell him to enjoy it while he can.

5.  Holy Shit, I don't have to drop $100 in a bar every Friday night!  In my younger days when I rolled over on Monday morning with one eye crusted shut, and a drool spot the size of a basketball on my pillow, I was already thinking about next Friday night.  All the beer I was going to drink, all the bitches I was going to hook up with (none), and already trying to figure out which bar I was going to close.  There was no stopping me, and I was never going to change.  But I did.  And its totally worth it.  Friday nights are about relaxing.  Get the kid fed, bathed, and in bed... and relax.  Cool summer nights on the patio, warm winter nights in front of the fireplace.... why I shunned this lifestyle in my younger years is beyond me.

6.  Holy Shit, hang overs are aweful!  I had fun in my younger days... a LOT of fun.  Pretty much all of that fun involved drinking and a LOT of drinking.  Off work at 5:00, at a bar by 6:00, crawling into bed at 1:00, hop out of bed at 6:00 and back to work by 7:00 like nothing ever happened.  I was He-Man... Master of the Bar Scene-a-verse.  Of course when life catches up to you, things slow down.  You get older and you have a few less beers, on fewer nights of the week, and get home at more reasonable hours. The hangovers get more and more concerning in the morning as well, but you still get by.  A few cups of coffee and a Honey-Bun from the vending machine and you are golden.   But then one day you wake up with a pounding headache, what appears to be a broken toe, a mouth that you could swear was full of cotton balls and razor blades, a 2 year old jumping on your chest screaming that he wants to play Candy Land, and a wife reminding you that she is going shopping with her sister for a couple hours.  All you can do is thank God that you forgot where you hid the key to your gun safe because the Grim Reaper couldn't get there fast enough.

7.  Holy Shit, Cartoons suck!  We all grew up camped in front of the TV on Saturday morning and vegged out to the likes of the Transformers, Captain Cave Man, and  Foghorn Leghorn.  Even well into our 20's, it wasn't uncommon for my wife and I to spend the morning in bed catching up on Sponge Bob Square Pants episodes.   I had always secretly looked forward to getting to relive those Saturday mornings with my kids.  You can't in good faith watch cartoons as an adult, but with a kid in your lap its totally justified.  Now that I've had that chance, all I can say is good lord... what the hell happened to cartoons?  Special Agent Oso is a functioning dip-ship. Caillou is a whiny ass bitch, Team Oomi Zoomi is enough to make you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon, and Micky Mouse has turned into that annoying kid in kindergarten that always seemed to have a jelly bean stuck in his nose.

8.  Holy Shit, having children really is fulfilling!  From late adolescence all the way through to early adult hood the "Don't Kid Yourself" campaign is embedded into our minds.  Of all the mistakes you can make, knocking a girl up is the worst possible one.  Your parents will disown you, your friends will chastise you, and that lucrative career as a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Photographer you were planning on is flushed down the toilet.  Then you get older and your friends were slowly gobbled up by wife-zillas and eventually had children of their own (well, some did that backwards, but that is beside the point).  You are lucky to meet up with them once a month.  When you do meet up, they show up with a diaper bag and a six pack of Bud Light Lime and banter on and on about how miserable they are.  No sleep, no sex, no friends... all you can do is nod your head and feel sorry for them.  Then one day you meet a woman who is willing to lower her expectations, you hurry up and marry her before she changes her mind, and you have a child of your own.  Then the realization sets in, the part that people have failed to tell you is that being a dad is REALLY great!  All of those dilemmas you have been warned about cower in the shadows of all the great and wonderful things you experience being a father.  See when you are a parent, you only tell people about the bad parts, its just our way to deal with it.  You need people to sympathize with you to keep your sanity.  Maybe if they think you are having it rough, they won't be so quick to judge when they see you have two different socks on.  Yes the sleepless nights are bad, getting peed on is no fun, and the trips to the ER are gut wrenching.... but you forget about all of that every time they wrap their arms around your neck and say, "I love you daddy"

"Not Until We Are Married"

"Now you don't have to worry about one penis, you'll have thousands to worry about" ~ Comment left to me on Facebook from someone who just learned that I will be having twin girls.

Dick bag comment?  Sure.
Should I be offended?  Probably.
Am I? Not the least.....

As abrasive (and totally expected from that particular person) of a comment that may be... there is a lot of truth in it.  Up until the age of about 13, boys only have one thing on their mind..... hitting a home run in Little League.  Then one day he learns of this magical thing called a "vagina" and every thing changes.  The next 70 years of our lives are spent trying to trick women into giving it to us.  Men are horn balls;  my grandpa was a horn ball... my dad was a horn ball....God knows I was... okay... am.... a horn ball too.  Its been that way for millions of years...it will be that way for millions more.

Now that we've established the precedence and are going into it knowing there is no way to avoid the barrage of, "Everybody's doin' it",  "My last girlfriend did it",  "I swear I won't show the pictures to anyone else", "Common... I'll just put the tip in" they will receive.... how do you make sure they possess the emotional fortitude to make the right decisions?

The first thing that comes to mind:  "By taking time out of every single day to instill sound values and moral judgement".  The second thing that comes to mind is: "Well that's a bullshit cliche if I've ever heard one".  I vividly recall driving home from the Homecoming dance trying to ignore the sound of socks squeaking against the window as my friend threw it to that sweet innocent 'girl next door' who's parents had taken a little bit of time out of every single day to instill sound values and moral judgement.  I could see in the rear view mirror how well that worked out.

If you've been following this post expecting an answer as to how I'm going to make sure my daughters don't end up getting taken advantage of.... I've got some bad news for you.  I don't have an answer.  Anyone who thinks they DO have an answer is kidding themselves and will probably have a daughter that kids herself too.  I've been to high school....I know what teenagers do.   I'm not so naive as to believe that as long as I follow some nonsensical tips I get out of  "Parents" magazine about morals and values that my daughters will put a stop to their boyfriends when they try to round second base. I have no way to know if its going to happen or not.  I suppose I could hope.... but hope in one hand, shit in the other and see which fills up first, right? 

So let's look at that quote again.  "Now you don't have to worry about one penis, you'll have thousands to worry about".  The word in that phrase that scares the shit out of dad's is "penis".  I look at that quote and the word that scares the shit out of me is "worry".  The last thing that I want is to be worrying.  I don't want to be worrying about my son snapping his femur like a twig.  I don't want to be worrying if my wife is pissed that I'm in the front yard having a few too many beers with my neighbor.  And I sure as hell don't want to be worrying that some half-whited prick is fumbling around with my daughters bra clasp in the back seat of a Ford Festiva.

What I can answer, however, is how I'm going to prevent myself from going bat shit crazy trying to keep boys off my daughters.  I'm going to focus on being a good dad and a good husband and do the best I can and not worry about it. Worrying doesn't make it any better and it won't make me a better parent.  Oh.... and I'll carry around a shotgun, and wear a "Who Farted?" hat when I pick them up from school.  I hear that works too.

.... now, how in the hell am I going to trick my wife into having sex with me tonight?

Kids Say the Damnedest Things

Proud parenting moment last night.   I was hanging out in the bathroom with my son where one of his bathing requirements is to have music playing.  The Bluetooth speaker stuck to the shower wall is waterproof, but the phone he uses to control the music isn't, so I sit with him and play DJ.  We were in the middle of probably the 7th rocking-out of "Let It Go" when he started yelling to turn the music off, "Dad, you've got to see this really cool trick I just learned!"  I turned the music off.... my ears were grateful.... and he stood up. "Look dad, I can make my pee pee move without even touching it!"  I looked down and sure as shit... at full attention, his little Rocket Man was bouncing around like a wounded rabbit.

Not knowing whether to laugh, cry, or something in between.... I did the best I could come up with, a smile and a hi-five.

So now the dilemma challenges me.  I hadn't expected dick tricks to come into play for quite some time.  I almost feel obligated now to teach him a few more from the bag (pun intended)... "the woman", "the helicopter",  "the towel hook", and the "Eiffel Tower"?  Nah, I think I'll keep those to myself for a few more years.

Holy Diapers!!!!

For the first six months or so a typical baby goes through 8-10 diapers a day.... 9 x (365/2) = 1,643 diapers.  6-8 diapers the next 6 months.... 7x(365/2) = 1,278... For a grand total of 2,920 diapers.  (For you math wizards that noticed my math was off and are about to flame me.... there was some rounding going on... so save it for your WoW forums)

2,920 diapers......  5,840 for twins.

My mad Googling skillz tells me that a typical small sized diaper is about 17".

If I were to lay those diapers end to end.... not only would I have wasted a shit ton of time... but it would also stretch 1.56 miles.  That's an astonishing 1.56 miles MORE than my FitBit wrist band says I ran all of last year!

Preamble: The ins and outs of fathering a boy and learning of twins.

Welcome to my blog.  I've been active on social media and internet message boards for over a decade now, but this is my first journey into the blogging world.  I started this blog under the encouragement of a few friends.  It seems that I have an interesting perspective on things and my sense of humor interjects itself well with life's many struggles.  As a person, I try not to take things too seriously, and when life gets too serious.... I go out of my way to get it back to normal.  I often consider this to be a personality flaw, some thinks it makes me 'special'.  And yes, there is more than one way to take that.  When times get tough, the things I say or do can come across as insensitive, rude, and occasionally obscene. Let it be known, that isn't who I am as a person, its just the way I deal with things, it is my coping mechanism.

Now, let me dig into why I am here and why I hope you are reading this and provide some more background on my life.  My wife and I met in 1999 on Kelleys Island, Ohio.  At that time both of us had reached a major turning point in our lives.   We were both looking for the same thing.... nothing...an escape...a disconnect from our recent past.  We didn't know it at the time, but what it was we really needed was something completely different.... We needed each other.  Good thing for us, it didn't take long to realize it.  Married in 2002, it took us a few more years to get caught up from all of the "looking for nothing" we had done.  Our paths to the future were still foggy with a long road to a college education in front of us.  Persistence (and a lot of arguing, bickering, and finger pointing) ultimately landed us with college degrees and stable careers.

So what to do with all of our newly found free time?  Lets make a baby!  Children had always been on our radar... but the radar wasn't always turned on.   We had talked it over plenty of times and we knew we wanted at least one, but it just never seemed to be the right time (now knowing there is no such thing as 'the right time').  It was in August of 2008, my wife and I on a Maryland beach soaking up the sun, when we finally made the decision to toss the pills in the trash.  We hadn't actually actually decided to TRY to have a child... but we knew the time had come to begin a family.  Due to some past medical conditions, family history, our ages (now well into our 30's), and a plethora of other friends and family who took longer than they would have liked to conceive, we were expecting a long road to welcoming our first born into the world.  Though that wasn't the plan God had for us, and we welcomed our first born into the world a little more than 10 months later.  I blame it on my super sperm.

We had never made a decision if we were going to be a "one-and-done" family or not.  I had my boy to hunt with, to fish wish, to share a first beer with.  My wife and a wonderful son who loved her to pieces.  Nothing in our lives felt empty or needing any more than what we had.  We were a family, and a happy one at that.

As time went on however, our perspective changed.  We watched as my sister raised a herd of boys and my many cousins adding enough children to the mix to play a full court basketball game with spares on the bench.  Most of our neighbors had one or two and added another themselves.  It didn't take long for my wife and I to see that he love those kids had for their brothers and sisters was vacant from our house.  Once again, it took a weekend vacation (regretfully in Shittsburgh) to finally draw us into making the final decision.  The ovulation calendar just so happened to line up with the days immediatley following our trip so we made the best of that week,  I was strutting through the neighborhood with a smile from ear to ear already looking forward to next month when we got to try again.

Once again.... God had another plan.  4 weeks later my wife called me into the bathroom to show me a pile of pregnancy tests strewn over the counter all with "+"'s  on them, once again my super sperm took the crown.  Of course we were ecstatic, (though another month or two of "trying" wouldn't have been all THAT bad) we were also up to the challenge.  Our confidence was high, we had done well with the first,  and he was almost 5 years old.  Not that he could actually do much... but the luxury of having a child that could fix his own snacks, bathe himself, entertain himself, and clean up his own messes was an advantage we felt we had over other parents who had been feeding us horror stories of raising two that were much closer in age.

A few weeks later we were in the prenatal ward preparing to get the first sounds of our second's heart.  We heard what we expected, a tiny beating heart.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't listening for two heartbeats.  There was only one, quick sigh of relief.  It was a quick visit, my wife cried tears of joy, I smiled until my cheeks hurt.  Doctor asked a few questions, went over a few things that were new to us as it had been half a decade since we did it last.  She also went over the increased risks that we faced considering my wife's "advanced age" (over 35 under 40... we'll leave it at that).  It was then when some reality started to sink in. 

We had always known that age was a risk factor in pregnancies, but it never really seems like a big deal.  Doctors seem to have a way to bringing you into check.  At age 25, the risk of down syndrome is 1 in 1,250.  At 30, 1 in 1,000.  At 40, 1 in 100.  We were presented all of the facts... and the facts scared the shit out of us.  We were scheduled for our first exam with the high risk specialist a few weeks later.

The next few weeks we were pretty hush-hush.  Due to our concerns about the increased risks, we simply weren't ready to start breaking the news.  Only a few close family and friends had any idea we were even trying to have our second, let alone were already expecting.  At 12 weeks we were in for our (I know... I keep saying "our" like we are both carrying a baby.. I just like saying it... let me go with it) first exam. 

The purpose of that exam was to do some preliminary screening for early signs of complications and  chromosomal abnormalities.  The results of the exam left us with the shock of our life. 

Our shock came right out of the gate.  The ultra sound tech lubed up my wife's abdomen and went right to town peering inside.  My wife and I were happy, hand in hand staring at the wall mounted monitor excited to get our first look at our baby.  We saw what looked like head, looked like a hand, looked like a leg... it really was amazing.

It wasn't more than a dozen or so seconds into the exam when the tech finally spoke.  "Well, I'm going to tell you what I see already.  There are two babies in there.  You are having twins."  The Earth stopped.  "No, you're kidding", my wife said.  The tech assured us, "I'm a doctor, I'm not allowed to 'kid'".  My wife turned to me, "I hate you" (Don't take it out of context... she can have a rude sense of humor too).  The next few minutes mostly consisted of me coping by making smart ass comments and my wife crying with ... well..... lets just go with "joy", yeah... she was crying with "joy".  The doctor took a series of stills, labeled them "Twin A" and "Twin B", took some measurements and printed us out a sheet of images big enough to pass as a wholesale club receipt, and left the room.

We both pretty much just sat there in disbelief holding each others hand.  "Well.... looks like we know when we will be getting that new car" I said.  "Yeah" she replied.  A lot of thinking was going on, still can't say for sure what was in her mind.  My mind was mostly filled with words...that I wasn't allowed to say until I was 18.

10 minutes or so later the doctor came in and took a seat.  I remember his face being blank, not what I was hoping for.  Could have used a little smile right then.  He dove right into what the ultra sound revealed.  The twins, he told us, were "monochorionic-diamnionic." meaning that they were sharing a placenta, but each had their own amniotic sac.  He explained that this is not the worst case, but it isn't best either.  Since they had their own sacs, they were in no danger of their cords crossing (This would be mono-mono twins which only occur in 1% of pregnancies and have a 50% chance of being fatal to at least one twin), but since they are sharing a placenta, they do run about a 15-20% chance of having shared blood vessels between umbilical cords which results in one of the twins basically starving out the other.  This is referred to as Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome, ttts.  If one starves out the other and it dies, it could result in a spike in blood pressure that would then kill the other.  He assured us that it is a highly treatable condition, we just need to make sure that if it happens, we catch it early.  He was also able to tell us that since they are mono-di twins, we can say for certain that they are identical.

The doctor then left us with the good news.... the only news we were expecting to get when we first walked in the door.  The Nuchal Translucency test ('NT Test" which measures the size of the fluid sack behind the neck) that would give an early indication of chromosomal abnormalities were fine.  Great!!!! Finally some good news to help us sleep better.  "But, this test isn't 100%" the doctor continued.  This test misses approximately 20% of cases of down syndrome."  "Since we already know that they are identical, if one of them has down syndrome, so does the other".  Well now..... that's an easy pill to swallow.... twins with down syndrome. 

He next advised us of further testing that could be done to get a better idea.  He suggested a noninvasive prenatal test (NIPT) which measures protien levels in the blood that can give a better indication of there being risks of genetic abnormalities, heart problems, and preterm birth.  It would also tell us the gender (which wouldn't be possible if they weren't identical).  My wife was quick to ask the doctor to order the blood work for the test. 

For those of you with inquisitive minds... I'll answer this right away.  Our decision to have this second test done had nothing to do with any decisions involving termination of the pregnancy.  We knew going into the doctors office that day that we were going to love what God blessed us with.... down syndrome or not.... or twins with down syndrome or not (even though that thought had never actually crossed our minds.)  The only reason we requested the secondary testing was because if we were having a down child, we wanted to be able to prepare ourselves for the challenges that parents of down children have... finding support groups, doing research, etc.

His last words to us did soften the news.  He finally smiled and said that he understands that there is a lot of weight on our shoulders and not to worry.  Even with all of the risks and possibilities, its very likely that everything will be just fine.  The doctor left us with the infamous, "do you have any more questions?"... which of course we didn't.... those don't come until after you take 4 steps out of his office.

From the office we went to the lab to have the blood work for the NIPT.  I called my family and gave them the good news.  They were all elated.... which didn't sit well with me because I was still wondering what the hell had just happened.  I wanted sympathy, I wanted assurance that everything was going to be okay, I wanted them to be there with me.  When the blood work was done, we went home. 

We had each left work early that day, so we drove separately.  We had a trip to Kelleys Island planned for the weekend so I needed to stop and get some supplies and my wife needed to pick up our son.  My drive home took much longer than expected....traffic was bad, mostly because I was driving 55 in a 65 zone oblivious to the world.  As I was pulling into the development, my wife called... "Ummmm... are you coming home?"  The irrational logic set in and it had struck her that after the news.... I had gone on the lamb.  I guess I can't blame her.

At this point, there was no sense in keeping the secret anymore.  I shared the news with my neighbors.... which was met with laughter.    I shared the news with my cousins... also met with laughter (and texted message saying 'You're fucked if they are girls' followed by a barrage of scantily clad twin women in provocative poses)  I shared the news with a few old friends from the ferry boat line on the ride to the island... more laughter.  WTF... "why is everyone mocking me?" That first day I was genuinely offended by people's response to the news.  It didn't take me long to realize that their laughter was justified.  They were laughing because of how rough it was going to be.... and I'm laughing about it now too.  I've seen them in Walmart, I've read their comments on the internet, and I've heard of their stories through the grape vine.  There are some real dick bags of parents out there with twins... and if they can do it... then it should be a piece of cake for me ( which is fitting because cake really isn't my favorite thing).

That first weekend was rough.  I was physically at our island vacation home, but my mind was still stuck back in that doctors office.  Two cribs.... two car seats.... double for daycare.... twice the crying... twice diapers.... twice, double, twice, double, twice, double..... AHHHHH.  Double of everything.... but time and money.

The days following that got better.  Things got easier to accept, the "I can do this" attitude began to set in, and I was much more confident than the past Friday when I melted into my chair in the doctors office.  I could see my wife was taking it better too.  She joked, "at one point, I wasn't even sure I wanted one kid... and now I've got three"  .

What still lingered however, was the NIPT results.  Having a normal NT test, at this point, our chances of having an abnormality were are about 1 in 800 (my guestimate from reading the internet... take that for what its worth).  Great odds... but still not great enough.  We were also eager to learn the sex of the babies (of course you already know from the title of this blog)  Were we going to have 3 boys, or a boy and twin girls.  Was my wife going to be out numbered as she has been for the past 5 years or was it going to be me?  I know its cliche, but I don't think I really cared.  Raising twin teenage girls scares the shit out of me.... and it still does.  But snuggling up to daddy's little girl has always been something I admired and one day hoped to experience myself.   Three boys seemed like the easy route.... more scrapes and bruies, but less drama.  I can deal with blood... drama, not so much.  15 days after the blood work went in (yes, we counted every one of them) my wife got the call.  Test results were negative for abnormalities and we were having girls.  Highlight that one as the best day in a long time.

Since that day (was only a week ago) not much as changed.  We've tested some new 7 passenger SUV's and finally decided on one.  I got ahold of some car seats and learned that I'll be able to fit 3  seats across the back seat of my truck.... which is a huge relief because I was NOT looking forward to having to get two vehicles.  We've got the extra bedrooms sorted out and ready to ditch all the boy clothes we have been holding onto in a garage sale.  And we are both back to getting a decent amount a sleep at night... stock up while we can, right?  All in all.... life is getting back to normal... at least as normal as it ever will be again.

And that brings us up to today....