I spread myself thinly across multiple, often conflicting responsibilities. Student John and Stay-At-Home-Dad are in a constant death match, each plotting against the other to undermine the otherwise phenomenal jobs they each perform. They let Writer John out of his crate roughly once a week, and as soon as that latch is lifted, Writer John careens through the door and sprints figure eights around the living room with the laptop, spouting mirthful gibberish like The Great Cornholio. But as soon as Writer John has flung his brainchild out into the tangled Interweb, he’s back in the holding cell, from which he shouts genius ideas for blogs, novels, and 3-D feature films, hoping against hope that the other Johns hear, but knowing deep down that a majority of them tragically will vanish into the ether, neglected and unwritten. While all of this goes on, Husband John–the unofficial fearless leader–watches from the couch. It’s been difficult for Husband John to get a word in as of late, with all of the demands the others have needed to handle, but at the last chapter meeting, he dropped a bomb on everyone.
“So has anyone had any thoughts about what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day?”
The room fell silent.
“You all forgot, didn’t you?”
I recently received the highest honor WordPress bestows upon its bloggers–“Freshly Pressed.” For those of you who don’t know, that means one of my posts was featured on the WordPress homepage, affording hundreds of thousands of bloggers the convenient privilege of experiencing the genius that is this fine publication.
The post, titled “Did He Just Say What I Think He Said?”, was about my son saying “Dada” for the first time, possibly because of Chuck Norris. I can only assume The Man Himself received word of this post and flexed a bicep ever so slightly, causing a chain reaction in the cosmos resulting in a WordPress employee stumbling upon Twinfamy, sharing it with colleagues, and culminating in a celebratory cheering-at-desks-and-cubicles scene akin to Jim Lovell & Co. returning to Earth’s atmosphere in Apollo 13.
The response was overwhelmingly amazing, and if you’re a new Loyal Reader as a result of this National Holiday, welcome.
But that’s not the reason I’m writing this post.
I am thrilled to announce that the tale of my son’s alleged first word has inspired the production of a movie…starring Legos.
Earlier this week I expressed my affection for Legos, and as soon as the Twins are old enough, you can bet we’ll breathe life into the finest Lego structures this world has ever seen. If there’s anyone who’s fueled this anticipation, it’s my friend John Willey, a multi-talented writer, photographer, and Lego aficionado. His blog Daddy’s in Charge? is one of my favorites, brimming with humor, reflections on being a stay-at-home dad, and highly entertaining Lego movies about his life raising his two sons.
I am ecstatically honored to be part of John’s latest Lego opus, his response to the Legend of the Chuck Norris “Dada,” which features the Twins and Yours Truly in plastic Technicolor.
I was a little apprehensive about being temporarily transformed into a Lego figure for the day we shot this, and even more concerned that the Twins would also be making this transformation.
For instance, would there be any long-term side-effects? In the event of an accidental dismantling, would all the King’s Horses and Men be on hand to remedy the situation, and if so, have they learned from the infamous Humpty-Dumptygate Scandal? In the end, though, I just couldn’t turn down the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with Lego Chuck Norris.
And believe me, everything they say about him…it’s ALL true.
Plus, who knew Chuck Norris was responsible for other children’s first words?
Well, Chuck Norris did, of course, but I didn’t. What a guy, huh? Not only does he keep the Earth spinning by trimming his beard (so it doesn’t throw off the gravitational pull) and prevent zombie apocalypses before scientists can even get out their chemistry sets–the guy still finds time to give the gift of speech to babies! Such a class act. Someone get this man a Nobel Prize, or at least some frozen yogurt.
Anyway, thanks a kajillion to John for including us in this fantastic piece of Lego cinema. You can read his own post about this video here. I urge you to check out more of his fine work on Daddy’s in Charge? and follow him on Facebook and Twitter.
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If not, expect a visit from Lego Chuck Norris. It will not be a friendly one.
People search the weirdest things on the Internet, and when they do, sometimes they visit my blog.
For those who don’t know, when you have a blog, you receive statistics about people who visit your site, and one of them is “Search Terms.” Basically, whenever someone runs a search on a site like Google, sees your site, and clicks on it, your blogging service tells you what that person was searching for when they reached your blog.
Most of the time, these search terms make sense. For example, many people find Twinfamy by searching “stay at home dad with twins.” However, every once in a while, I get some weird ones which make me wonder, “Who searched that?”
Many of these search terms are way too entertaining not to share, so some blogger friends and I started a site to showcase these search-term oddities and share our musings as to who might actually be searching for them.
You’ll also find the inaugural post entitled “Desperately Seeking Ear Deformities,” written by Yours Truly.
Hope you enjoy, and will check back often. If not, please continue to lurk here on Twinfamy daily.
The moment I get both twins down for a nap is one of victory, invariably punctuated by a touchdown dance I’ve developed during my six-week career as starting Cry Receiver. It begins with the Running Man at a safe distance from 2nd (kid) Down, erupting into a Super Mario Brothers Fist-Raised Leap as I cross into the End Zone/Kitchen–during which I bump the ceiling, triggering a shower of Gilded Pacifiers–followed by the spike of a full baby bottle on the floor (empty ones don’t thud or bounce quite as badassly). I Raise the Roof with legs of Jell-O while willing myself not to White-Man’s-Overbite, and then, as I go into a little soft-shoe routine, die-hard face-painted fans, animal mascots, and cheerleaders emerge from drawers, cabinets, and Crock Pots, all remarkably donning the color of whatever spit-up-stained t-shirt I happen to be wearing. I sign the bottle with a Sharpie, fling it into the masses–who will argue for the ensuing two hours about who had it first–and launch myself into the Dawg Pound, crowd-surfing my way through high-fives.
Yeah, it’s a work in progress.
The “Holy Crap, a Nap Overlap!” Shuffle (working title) may seem a tad extravagant, but that’s because rarely does this occasion occur. Unlike many modern technologies, you cannot set twinfants to automatically synchronize. People often assume twins are uncannily in-tune. I definitely see yin and yang dynamics emerging, but my experience has shown that–as fraternal, boy/girl twins–they truly are two unique people, and with that comes unique sleep patterns. (I’ve heard identical twins tend more towards similar sleep habits but won’t at all claim to be an expert on that.)
It goes like this. My son, the Reigning Naptime Champion, usually conks right out, often even collapsing in his jumper or drifting off mid-teething-ring gnaw. My daughter, on the other hand, will show signs of tiredness, but will resist the falling asleep part at all costs. So after soothing, rocking, defiant de-socking, carrying, pacing, wide-awake goofy-facing, singing, swinging, pacifier flinging, and even laying her down to self-sooth until she’s so loud she’s about to wake her brother resulting in an fiery inferno of dual banshee shrieks, by the time I finally get her to sleep, I’ll often hear him waking from a 45-minute nap before I can even Mario Jump.
However, against these insurmountable odds, I usually manage to get them down at the same time once a day. This magical phenomenon, Daddy’s Time, allows me to do. Whatever. I. Want. It feels strangely similar to my parents letting me stay home alone while they ran errands, leaving my ecstatic mind reeling with unfathomable possibilities. Should I go through drawers? Blow out the stereo speakers? Snoop for Christmas presents?
So, once the crowd returns to their hiding places in appliances and cabinets, I am left alone with my thoughts, the most common of which are the following, in this order.
I first must harness the butterflies and giggling pink unicorns in my head and decide what I will do, because the clock is already ticking. A quick survey of the towering pile of dirty baby bottles, nipples and pacifiers in the sink, the full laundry hamper, and the labyrinth of play gyms on the floor reminds me that I simply must work on my next blog post because the idea is genius and will surely be the one to gain the attention of a publisher who will commission Twinfamy: The Book which will be optioned for Twinfamy: The Movie or possibly The HBO Series, which will in turn surely win a record-breaking amount of awards and acclaim, and I will be so wealthy that I can pay someone else to do the damn dishes, laundry, and tidying.
2. Oh, no! Don’t wake up yet!
Too often, I’ve begun The Shuffle prematurely. I’ll hear a youthful groan and an absolute hush falls across the stadium as we all spin towards the JumboTron to watch the baby monitor video feed. You could hear a grain of rice cereal drop as we await the child’s decision, willing him or her to drift back off.
Other times, I’ll be in the middle of something crucial, such as finally finishing the episode of Futurama I’ve been trying to watch during Daddy’s Time all week (since my wife dislikes cartoons, even stellar grown-up ones), or again, penning that all-important next post, but as I finally hog-tie a muse and the ideas come oinking out, I’ll hear a rustling. Oh, no, please God, just give me five more minutes…Or if you’re having a good day, twenty works for me, too…
It’s also at about this point in the day when my dog realizes she has the floor. “Hey! Wait a minute! Those little upstaging bastards are asleep! It’s my turn!” She’ll make a dog-beeline for the closet and return on a unicycle, juggling rawhide bones, and wearing a scrolling LED belt buckle that reads: “Come on, Dad! Let’s play fetch, and then you can rub my tummy, and then…” And so, once I see her enormous black eyes glimmer expectantly, I have about three seconds to stop her from whining, barking, or howling Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” and waking the kids. Having given my poor, outshone-by-Twinfants canine some attention, I will then return to chores and/or Awesome Things. She’s usually fine with this until any sound whatsoever breaks the silence, prompting her to alert me via bark messaging that the air conditioning just clicked on, or the garbage truck has arrived, or that I have just closed the microwave, which brings me to…
4. How badly do I want to close this microwave?
Whether I’m finally nuking my first meal of the day or washing and steaming the aforementioned baby apparatus in our microwave sterilizer (neither of which I usually get around to until Nap Overlap), the microwave is a staple of Daddy’s Time. The problem, of course, it that it is impossible to close a microwave quietly. Don’t believe me? Go ahead, try. I’ll wait.
See? Told you. (My apologies if you’ve woken up napping children during Your Time.)
Even when I try to soften the blow with my fingertip as a silencer, I’m left with the same deafening bang and a sore finger. If this predicament were a movie trailer, it would go something like this:
In a world…
where silence MUST prevail…
on every slam.
Can YOU take the heat?
In theaters this Summer.
5. Did I brush my teeth today?
Now, before you get all grossed out, let me explain. I take morning coffee seriously, and carefully select blends I find to be delicious. However, the Tooth-Brushing/Coffee-Drinking Paradox dictates that brushing when I wake up causes the paste taste to linger and infiltrate my morning mug. I endured Minty Baking Soda Mochas for years via travel mug on my way to work, but can savor coffee with a clean palate now that I stay home.
The only caveat is the all-consuming nature of my “dayjob” sometimes causes me to forget to brush once the coffee’s done. All hail Daddy’s Time.
6. What did my wife tell me not to forget to do?
I knew it was something, and it must have been important, otherwise she wouldn’t have made a point to tell me. I think it had a “W” in it. I could ask her, but then she’ll know I forgot. Dammit.
Additonal Twinformation for New Parents
A 500-Disc DVD Special Edition Bonus Feature
My wife and I consider the microwave sterilizer I mentioned in Thought Number Four one of our best new-parent purchases. After a quick scrub and rinse in the sink, we throw them in this badboy, heat for 2 minutes, and play a Ring Toss/Horseshoes-style game to get them on the drying rack. I highly recommend this fine piece of equipment, especially over those disposable bags that burn the hell out of you every damn time and aren’t “effective” after X amount of uses.
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If not, that’s fine. Just please don’t wake up my kids.