I Stand Watch

Its a funny place the maternity ward at a hospital. As a 'new' dad all the nurses keep telling me to get some rest, make sure I'm eating and taking care of myself as well. 'I'm good' I always reply.

All I hear in the middle of the night as I write this is the soft bustle of the nurse's station beyond the door. The cooing of babies as they dream, the soft breathing of my wife. The hum of the HVAC, thinking is it too hot in here? Now is it too cold? The ticking of the ancient, institutional clock in our room. How long until they need to eat again? When did they pop last? When did I pop last? 

'Get some sleep' they say. How am I expected to sleep when my mind is racing? All I can think about is the future. While I consider myself a pretty damn good dad I still have questions and fears running through my head. Fueled by lack of sleep and an abundance of caffine, my mind races along side my heart.

I stand watch. Here in the dark, in the least comfy chair of my life, in 3 day old clothes, bad breath, a neck beard that would make hipsters scoff. I wonder, how am I supposed to sleep. My beautiful wife sleeping, as her body recovers, beside me. My two amazing new treasures bundled up as little burritos of love in front of me. There is no time for sleep. It is my job to stand watch. To protect them. Now and always. 

I stand watch. To protect them from the cold, from hunger, from monsters, real and imaginary. Protect their bodies, their hearts and their minds. Protect their souls, their wonder and their dreams. It's my job to protect them. A job I take seriously. More seriously than any other responsibility I have ever accepted.  

So to all the nurses in all the materity wards, I say this to you. Thank you for your concern. Thank you for the work you do. Form you I've learned that it is not my sole responsiblity to keep them safe. It is shared. 

But regardless. 

I stand watch.

Shit my wife says - the Hunger

As we all know women get hungry,  some even get hangry. My wife is one of the latter, even more so while she has been pregnant. 

Here are a few gems.

Ridin' Dirty

What do you get a three year old boy for his birthday? Obviously the biggest thing you had always desired as a little boy. That's right, super powers....no wait, Power Wheels!!

Who didn't want a Power Wheel when they were young? I still wanted one until about a week ago! 

So here it is, Parker's Ford F150. We cruise the neighborhood pretty much on a daily basis now.

See our build, reveal (they went to bath while I finished up), and adventures below. Enjoy

Singletons

As a soon to be parent of twins let me tell you something, Singletons are the worst. A singleton is a parent of one child. A single, lonely, spoiled child. Poor, poor child. We all know these Singleton assholes. They brag and boast about their sole child. Everything they can do, every thing that is impressive about them. But the worst thing about singletons? The WORST thing? When they complain about how hard it is. Really? You're having a rough day?

My wife and I's favorite game to play is to find and laugh at singletons. Our family swarms around them and we push them back and forth between us while our kids point and laugh at their single crying child. Then we all go for ice cream.

"Step up your parenting game Singleton! You weak bitch" is what we like to yell at them...from inside our car or under our breath.

All joking aside this all spawned from a Facebook group my wife is a part of. It's a group that is specifically for parents of twins. We have read through the posts and comments and find that parents of twins seem to think they are in some elite group. A group of mystical breeders that have been imbued with the power of Gemini and that makes them better than you Singleton. It's a very strange phenomenon that we have noticed.

You Singletons and Multipons can both step your game up!! Come at me when you have four!

Threenager

Warning. This post contains language some people may find offensive. And this is the edited version...

Threenager. This is a word I was introduced to a few weeks ago and it has since been infesting my life like a bad case of family lice. Make sure you read that right. I still miss it even though it has become a huge pet peeve of mine. Threenager, read as (3)nager. I get it from Facebook groups, my sister-in-law, and my wife (because she knows it annoys me)

Definition; A person 3 years old, possessing the attitude, and demeanor of a teenager

Are you kidding me. This is a thing? 

Your three year old has attitude? No your three year old is being a three year old. Trying to learn their place in the world by pushing your buttons.

Is your three year old moping around the house with his headphones in listening to shitty teen angst music pissing and moaning about some irrelevant bullshit that doesn't matter to anyone but themselves but still they are going to post their stupid ignorant thoughts on social media anyways and then piss and moan about that because none of their shitty teen friends favorited or retweeted it. 

No, your three year old is sitting in their own filth (well I guess that is similar to teenagers) watching Caillou (which is probably your first problem). That whiny little shit is a real asshole, pissing and moaning until he gets what he wants. Just hearing that little shit's shrill, eardrum piercing voice causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. But my hatred for that little animated cancer having brat should be saved for another rant.

Drawing similarities between a three year old and a teenager is ridiculous. They're acting like an asshole. That's the only similarity. So call it what it is.

It's all these shitty mom's groups that come up with all these ridiculous words to make themselves feel better that they aren't calling their kids assholes or being shitty parents.

Kids are going to give you some attitude. They have to. They have to learn their place in the hierarchy of the family, society and life. If you let them get away with shit it's just going to cause you more problems as they develop into fivenagers, then come the shithead sevens, transitioning into the troublesome tens, then before you know it you're raising a convict.

All that because you felt bad about calling your kid an asshole. Do it, it feels good.

You can say it. I say it. I know a few other parent who say it too. Those are the parents I listen to when I need advise. They are the ones that have the well behaved kids. They are the people that will laugh at this post, just as we laugh at those shitty mom's groups and their made up words. 

*mic drop*