Sunday, December 27, 2015

Christmas Celebrations

Christmas time for me is four weeks of nonstop work from morning until night 6 days a week.  Four weeks of not seeing much of the children, my wife, or the television.  Most of my time during those four weeks is spent delivering large amounts of packages for people to give as gifts for the holidays.  By Christmas morning I'm pretty exhausted, as is my wife from being a single mother for a month, but the show must go on.  Everything started around 6 am with coffee for us and presents for the kids.  Favorite gifts include superman for Jack and shopping carts for Henry and Oliver.  At this point in the day it occurs to the wife and I that it would be fantastic to just sit at home all day, let the kids play with their toys and relax as much as possible.  A fantasy.  Once everyone is dressed, we pile in the car and drive a mere 6 miles to her parents house for another round of wrapping paper mayhem and breakfast.  Again, cruising through the rest of the day at this point, about 8:30, would be nice.  Instead we get back in the car and proceed to drive ONE HUNDRED FORTY MILES!  Now I know family is important and to all of you who we spent Christmas with half way across the state, I love you dearly but Baby Jesus you live far away!  About half way through I thought I'd never regain feeling in my left butt cheek.  At least the twins got a nap in.  We arrived after about two hours and forty five minutes to "Merry Christmas" and "What would you like to drink".  One of everything please.  Now this house that will be in for the next six hours or so is a historic beautiful home full of antiques and very breakable Christmas decorations.  Not exactly two year old twin proof.  I had little doubt a Santa's head would be broken off as well as Rudolf's nose would be removed from his body before we were finished with this day.  Thankfully there were plenty of cousins and aunts and uncles to play with.  Things went pretty well at dinner despite the twins not eating a lot but that also meant not a lot was spilled on there sweaters.  The only problem as far as food went was and easily accessible bowl of M&M's that was hammered all day long by Henry and Oliver.  Not only did this get them all sugared up but the also oozed green and red M&M out of there mouths like some kind of weird Christmas vampire after feeding on its last victim.  So we played games and watched Christmas movies and really had a nice time.  Just when you think your day is going awesome, Christmas kicks you in the dick when you realize you have to drive that hundred forty miles all over again.  Not that we were not invited to stay but trying to get your kids to sleep in a strange place is like trying to drive a car with sugar in the gas tank...that shit don't work!  We got back in the car and all three little boys fell asleep immediately.  Several times someone would wake up and start screaming and crying.  This happened about every half hour.  I guess being overtired with sugar and being in a car makes you want to try to break your parents spirit subconsciously on Christmas night.  We finally pulled in the driveway at 9:15 and were all asleep by 10.  Christmas is hectic time for all of us but with the right attitude and with the right people around us it can be full of joy and lots of laughs and even though we spent a lot of time in the car and never really got to relax, I feel we achieved that.  Merry Christmas!  Like us on facebook at BadTwinDad and on Twitter @BadTwinDad.

Sunday, November 22, 2015


There's a lot to be thankful for running around on two legs in this house.  Despite all of my low brow jokes, and some of my above brow ones,  I really am thankful for these two hellraisers.  It is most certainly a miracle that they are here.  You see they are mono mono twins which means one placenta and one amniotic sack.  Nothing separated them and their umbilical cords for nine months which means the cords were free to be tied in knots that could have easily killed one or both of them.  The cords actually looked like a preschooler's attempt at tying shoes but didn't cause complications until they were ready to come out.  Something to be thankful for.  Another thing to be thankful for is that if the embryo had split even one day later they would be conjoined twins.  Think about how hard they would be to get to sleep then, it boggles the mind!  Being mono mono, they were in danger at all times which means once they were viable at 25 weeks, my wife was admitted to the hospital for a lengthy stay.  You can imagine the size of the wrench that was thrown in the works of our everyday lives once she was confined to a hospital bed.  She had to leave a not even two year old little boy at home and me.  I did my best with Jack at home during the week taking him to daycare twice a week which usually meant both of us were crying by 7:15 in the morning and his grandmother watched him the other 3 days which they usually spent at the hospital with Abby.  I took him to see her every Saturday and Sunday which usually involved wheel chair rides on Abby's lap and horrible cafeteria food that was as bland as a cardboard box.  Jack stayed pretty strong during the more than two months that my better half spent in the hospital.  Our drives home from the hospital usually had me reaching for his little hand in the back seat because I needed his support to keep up my moral.  I'm thankful for Jack and his grandma who took perfect care of him during the whole ordeal.  I'm also thankful for everyone who visited Abby in the hospital during her stay.  There weren't many days that someone didn't drop by to keep her company and tell her the latest gossip from the Mom's Club or bring her some descent food or even stay the night with her.  You all now who you are and we appreciate you!  There are others: the doctors, the nurses, the greeter in the lobby of the hospital.  All made a big difference.  I guess the person I'm most thankful for is my wife Abby.  I tell her all the time and it's true, she's a badass!  Even though she broke down a few times, so did I!, she kept going through all the monitoring sessions, tests, ultrasounds and prodding and poking and she brought into this world two of the cutest, funniest, smartest and no sleepingest twins this world has ever known.  there was no stopping her!  She made a giant calender on the hospital room wall counting down the days.  I could barely find my way through each day and she had her eye on the prize the whole time.  Even when we would get some bad news like "Oh by the way, they could die at any time" or "One could basically eat the other" or "It's shitty hot dog day in the cafeteria" she might cry a little but I could always see the strength inside of her that only really good mom's posses.  I could feel it coming off of her and you could just see in her eyes "Molon labe" which is Greek for "Come and Take them".  Wasn't nobody gettin through this badass bitch to those little boys!  And so she made it, we all did.  And on Thanksgiving our family shared a full spread of turkey and all the fixings in a deserted corner of the hospital just outside the NICU.  It was the best thanksgiving ever and this thanksgiving we will be celebrating Henry and Oliver's 2nd birthday and we are just as thankful as the day they were born.  Like us on facebook at BadTwinDad and on Twitter @BadTwinDad.

Saturday, October 24, 2015


The emotions running through me were many when my wife broke the news to me at about the half way point in the work day.  An old friend had gone missing about an hour before the call.  Last seen in the hands of a three year old was the remote control for the Apple TV.  Fear and panic at first as well as anger.  This had been a problem before and I had sometimes resorted to taping it to the larger Tv remote.  I settled into a state of calmness though when I realized that I would find it.  "Our house is small" I thought to myself, "nothing hides from me in my own house!" 
I arrived home to dinner on the table and planned my attack silently not even tasting the food.  I issued orders that once I found the "bitty mote troll" as Jack calls it, no one under the age of 30 was allowed to touch it.  I started my search in the most obvious place, the living room.  Logically I started with the sofas first hoping in vain that it was hiding in the cushions or underneath.  I found numerous pretzels and crackers and things of that sort that children seem to leave in their wake but no remote.  The toy corner was next but nothing was found there but toys and a few pacifiers.  The book shelves and the TV stand were next.  The only thing out of the ordinary there were a flattened balloon and a couple of drops of sweat that was starting to bead on my forehead.  Dread was the emotion I felt now as I cleared the living room of possibilities.  What was I going to do if I couldn't find it?  After all the kids were asleep, how was I going to watch multiple episodes of horrible TV.  We've gotten rid of cable for the fantastic glory that is Apple TV!  I was going to find that little bitch if it took all night!  Unfortunately it was bath time, which meant I was going to be getting wet and soapy with them as they splished and splashed their way clean.  After I cleaned up afterwards, I got back to my search.  The twins room was first but I had no luck.  Not under their cribs, not under their dresser and not amongst their toys.  Jack's room was my only hope.  I dug through his window seat toy box I built with my own two hands and found only frustration at the bottom of it.  Searched his book shelves and nothing was my reward!  My only chance was under his bed.  The last place to look.  I threw myself on the floor and had a look.  I could see nothing through all the clutter underneath his bed.  As well as clothes that no longer fit him, a good deal of art supplies and projects are stored under there.  I was desperate.  I got on my knees, lifted the entire bed with one hand and sifted threw all the bullshit with the other.  Throwing aside Osh-Kosh overalls this way and Crayola washable markers that way, I found no remote and no satisfaction!  I gave up in despair.  There would be no Ice Road Truckers or Yukon men this night.  The kids were asleep and we settled in on the couches watching PBS or some shit.  I buried my feelings in a package of Pecan Sandies.  I resigned myself to going to Best Buy the next day and buying a new remote.  I woke my wife who had fallen asleep after a hard day with the children and we started off to the bedroom.  My path took me past a book shelf.  There, about six and a half feet in the air on top of the book shelf was my remote control I spent at least an hour total looking for.  I turned around to face my beloved.  "Babe...." I pointed at the remote.  "Oh yeah....".  What was I going to do slap her?  As I said, I lifted a bed with one hand!  My pimp hand is strong and shit!  I simply shook my head and put my arm around her and we went to bed.  I'm no animal, I'm a BadTwinDad.  Follow us on Facebook at BadTwinDad and follow us on Twitter @BadTwinDad.

Thursday, October 22, 2015


A couple of weeks ago, my brother so graciously agreed to watch the children while my wife ran errands and went to a meeting.  I asked if he would write about it and he came through in spades.  Enjoy.

My soul was dying one piece at a time when I got the call.  Could BadTwinUncle ditch cubeland in favor of watching his three nephews on Friday?  You're damn right he could!  I happen to own the most stubborn dog in the world who is now almost 16 and has a ton of issues.  How hard can three little boys be after that?
I arrived five minutes ahead of schedule and the dynamic duo were fast asleep, allegedly for the next few hours. BadTwinMom faded away like one of the baseball players in Field of Dreams and it was on.  Around that time, Jack informed me he had to tell me a secret. I swallowed hard, thinking it involved feces in some way.  He informed me the bat he'd made out of construction paper was named Madeline and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The next hour and fifteen minutes were a blur of building bridges and towers with wooden blocks, playing with Play Doh, and trying to play board games with half the pieces missing.  Things were going so smoothly I just knew we were heading for the "I just shot Marvin in the face" portion of the day.  Sure enough, one of the twins started crying.
After a few minutes, I went inside to quiet down the screamer. Both twins were awake and staring at me, perplexed. Jack handed Henry his pacifier, which had fallen on the floor and triggered the ruckus.  I slowly back out of the room and closed the door. Then both twins started crying.
I texted BadTwinDad. "Both are awake. Please advise."
"Get them out of there!" he responded.
I hoisted the little bruisers out of their cribs.  After checking to see if either of them left me any surprises, I turned them loose. They toddled around, still blessedly half asleep, looking like tiny drunks staggering around.  It was at this point when Jack informed me that he wished to build a rocket.  He intended on using two sheets of paper and a marker for this purpose.
"It needs buttons," he said.
I hastily drew two rows of buttons.
"I can't press those," Jack said.
My brow furrowed.  It was going to be a long afternoon.  I colored in the buttons and Jack was satisified.
"Now it needs a door," he said.
I drew a rectangular door beneath the two rows of buttons, complete with knob.  It wasn't authentic but Jack wasn't going for authenticity.
"It's locked," Jack said
I sighed and drew a key in the lock. Jack set the piece of paper on the floor and proceeded to do several countdowns before shouting blastoff. Then he got up and told me we were playing restaurant. The twins were getting more active, so I kept one eye on them and one on Jack's diner in the corner of the living room, which apparently resembled a pile of toys.
As Jack took my order, Henry and Oliver climbed the piano as if it were Mount Everest. I scooped them up and placed them on the floor, where they began running in big circles through the house. Damn you, open floorplan!
I coralled them under the kitchen table, where they proceeded to play peekaboo with me, their adorableness momentarily distracting me long enough for a plastic whistle to bounce off my forehead.
"That's your Happy Meal toy," Jack said.
I sighed and continued the peekaboo game until Oliver found the whistle. For a few minutes, his routine consisted of tooting on the whistle and giggling like a serial killer. Somewhere around this time, Jack informed me he wanted to watch Youtube videos and needed the bitty remote. I eventually deduced that he needed the remote for the Amazon Fire Stick and found it on top of the bookcase. I handed it to him and returned my gaze to the twins. They seemed fine, each with two pacifiers in his mouth, watching me in amusement.
Henry took out his pacificer and played his favorite game: picking things up and asking "What's this?"
After four or five items, I was growing tired of the game. Henry called me Mommy a couple times and I felt my Spider Sense tingling.
I turned around to see Jack about to buy some Amazon coins or somesuch. I eventually figured out how to work the remote and got Jack settled in with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The three boys were enraptured.  Jack sang the theme song, Henry mumbled the song around his pacifier, and all three of them bobbed around. The identical savages clapped every time the audience clapped. Things were looking good.
"I'm so hot in these pants," Jack said.
"Keep them on," I said.
"Ok. Can I have some circle crackers?"
"Sure," I said.
I scoured the pantry and, now fluent in Jack-anese, found a box of round crackers. I counted out eight and handed them to him.
"I need some water in a circle cup. With ice."
I handed Jack the cup of ice water and took a look at my nephews.  They were all content suckling at the TV's glorious teat so I had a few precious seconds to myself.  I decided to draw Jack a picture of Batman.  I'd barely finished the basic lines of the face when I heard a clatter and saw ice and ice water all over the floor. Had he even had the cup in his hands for a full minute?
Once I settled Jack down and remedied the ice water catastrophe, Oliver decided to train for his future career as a mountain climber and Henry decided he really wanted to open and close the refridgerator door many times in rapid succession. I found the fridge lock, an ingenious U-shaped piece of metal and grabbed Oliver off the kitchen table.  It was at this point Jack felt the need to reiterate his dislike of pants.
"I hate wearing pants!" he said.
"We all do," I said.
Jack wriggled out of his pants like a snake shedding its skin and I said to hell with it and let him go.
"My tummy is so empty," he said. "I want some lunch."
"It's after 3. You'll get dinner soon."
Jack said "No" and I briefly wondered how much heat I would catch if my brother only had two kids when he returned. Life on the run seemed like a lot of work so I stayed my hand.
"Sit down and watch Muffin McStuffin or whatever that crap is. Your mom will be home soon."
God, I hoped so.  I imagined her drinking martini's with her co-workers. "My brother-in-law is such a sucker. We should have martini Fridays more often."
Other than the nephew in the grips of crabby starvation, things settled down. Oliver sat next to me on the couch and Henry lay on the floor, using Daniel the Tiger for a pillow. My mind drifted until I heard a car door!  Salvation!
Nope!  It was only the mailman.
Fortunately, BadTwinMom pulled into the driveway not long after and received a warm welcome from the boys.  I waited around for BadTwinDad to get home, punched him in the junk, and rode off into the sunset.

You can read his book reviews on Goodreads.  You can see his photos for sale on Society6 and as always like and share us on facebook at BadTwinDad and on Twitter @BadTwinDad.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

A Trip to the Library

A day off during the week is usually a welcome escape from the grind of the work week that can drag on.  Supermom had a doctor's appointment and needed time to work on her dissertation which is becoming as long and as tedious as the dead sea scrolls, so I was on duty trying not to mess up the routine of the house.  Part of that routine is every Tuesday the children go to the library for story time.  No problem.  I herded everyone into the van and off we went.  After a stop at the bank and post office we arrived at our destination for some stories, a craft and maybe some dancing under a hail of bubbles from the bubble machine.  Henry and Oliver went into the stroller and Jack was at my side carrying, for about ten feet, the books we had to return.  We took the elevator down, because who can navigate a flight of stairs with a double stroller, to the Childrens library, signed in and took our place around the semicircle.  I glanced around the group at the other kids.  Here it should be noted that our three boys are constantly running around bonking heads, falling down, wrestling, and generally doing little boy stuff all day.  They get knocked around to say the least and as I looked at the other children I notice something.  All their faces are devoid of scratches, bruises, cuts and all the stuff my kids have in spades.  Even the other twins at story time, little girls, a couple of cutie pies, have not a scratch on them.  I guess my kids are a little rougher than other kids, oh well it builds character.  Moving on.  As the group starts a killer rendition of Old McDonald had a farm, everything is going pretty well.  Henry and Oliver are still in their stroller munching on pretzels and mumbling the words to the song as best they can and Jack is sitting in my lap criss cross applesauce.  After about 17 seconds Henry expresses to me that he would like to be removed from the stroller by looking at me and screaming like a panther.  I took them both out at which point they proceeded to go stand right in front of the sweet old librarian who is facilitating this little powwow, blocking every one's view of the book.  I kindly asked them to return to our little area and they responded by going in opposite direction neither being towards myself and Jack who was starting to look around for some trouble to get into of his own.  My first instinct was to stop Henry first who was headed for the emergency exit.  Nothing would throw a monkey wrench into story time like a fire alarm 8 minutes in.  I returned Henry to the confines of the stroller with much protest and headed for Oliver who had made his way to the other corner of the room and was standing in a rocking chair.  Jack beat me there and being the policeman of his brothers, was about to grab Oliver and throw him to the ground.  I grabbed Oliver probably saving his life in the process and returned him to his bonds in the stroller.  At this point only 10 minutes has gone by, I'm sweating, my blood sugar is low and Jack is making his way into the main library without us.  I ran after him brought, him back, bear hugged him and sat back down.  How in God's name does my wife do this every week.  Why does she do it!?  Because she's better than me that's why.  The next 4 minutes goes OK and then the twins start straining against their restraints and Jack says he wants to leave so I say to myself "we have bubble at home and to hell with that farmer's hat that they are going to glue on a little wooden stick...we out".   We returned our books and skipped out early of a story time that no one was interested in and after our antics probably we would not be missed anytime soon.  I'm sure my wife has this routine down but I would sooner shove bamboo chutes under my own finger nails before attempting this story time again but I'm a BadTwinDad.  Like us on facebook at badtwindad and on Twitter @BadTwinDad.

Saturday, October 10, 2015


It happens in every parents career of putting their kids to sleep, whether it be at naptime or bedtime and it will probably only happen a few times before something has to be done.  I did not witness it myself but I could sense a huge disturbance in the force just before my wife called and said "Shit just got real".  At first, I thought to myself "Shit has pretty much been real since we brought these two home".  She explained to me the horror of opening the door to find Oliver sitting on his changing table when he should have been in his crib taking a nap.  He had climbed out of his already lowered as far down as it will go crib and climbed onto the changing table and was throwing wipes around the room like they were seeds in a field.  As if this wasn't hard enough already (see blog post 2 "Bedtime") now they can just climb out whenever they please!  My first reaction was chicken wire and a lot of duct tape but that would probably lead to a Mad Maxish sort of look to the room that my lovely wife would frown upon.  Then I thought we could put them in little strait jackets that might remind them of their swaddling days but that would make night time diaper changes difficult.  For sure if I spread Crisco all over every square inch of the cribs that would solve it but honestly that's a little gross.  Binding an ankle to a crib spindle would probably leave marks and I'd like to sell these cribs eventually.   The best alternative to cribs that comes to mind is a couple of dog kennels big enough to fit crib mattresses into but I'm pretty sure the wife will be displeased with this obvious remedy.  Chloroform is too risky on toddlers period.  So I suppose we will just keep going on until either some breaks on arm by jumping from a crib with no parachute or they are old enough to sleep in real beds.  I'm sure perfect fathers could keep these Houdinis on lock down but I'm a BadTwinDad. Like us on facebook at BadTwinDad and share it please and follow us on twitter @BadTwinDad. 

Monday, October 5, 2015

Dinner Time!

The Mongol Horde sacked the city of Kiev in 1240.  Kiev was the most populated city in the area what is now Ukraine.  The Mongols must have had a feast of epic proportions after this victory.  Can you imagine the table manner situation of these nomadic sheep shaggers?  Let me tell you they have nothing on my little gang of boys.

My wife puts a lot of effort and care into dinner.  Every night she puts forth a spread with all the bases covered.  Fresh baked bread.  A fruit and vegetable with every meal.  Well rounded.  The meal usually starts off with Jack saying grace.  Whether or not he lets a fart slip in the process is a roll of the dice.  He's only 3 so misplaced flatulence here and there can be overlooked.  Everyone usually starts eating pretty well for the first thirty seconds or so.  This is valuable time.  This is when the adults present at the table should get as much food down as possible cause it only goes downhill from here.  The first drink of water Henry or Oliver take usually turns into them pouring it all over the table, the plate, or themselves resulting in said water usually being taken away from them.  After they get over this unbelievable affront to there dining sensibilities, they will eat a little more and then the throwing starts.  From forks to french fries, if they can pick it up it flies.  It's normally around this point in the meal when Jack requires that he be chaperoned into the bathroom.  Sometimes his trousers can be difficult.  We usually call it quits around this point.  One of us throws all three of them in the tub while the other cleans up the aftermath that the Mongols have just spread the through streets of Kiev.  Every night it seems like there is more food in the dust pan than was on there plates at the beginning of the meal.  Sometimes we wonder how they survive because most of their food ends up on the floor.  I'm sure at some point they will grow out of this but what do I know I'm a BadTwinDad.  Like us on facebook at BadTwinDad

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Acquainted with the Night

Acquainted with the Night.  Robert Frost was a master of the poetry game.  Written in iambic pentameter with a terza rima rhyme scheme, this poem is about Ole Bobby's experience with depression and how it feels.  What does this have to do with being a father of twins?  Not a damn thing except for the title.  At two in the morning last night with one kid on my lap and another asleep at my side, Acquainted with the Night popped into my head and I knew the words didn't apply but just the title stuck with me as I drifted back to sleep with a pile of the next generation on the love seat.  This is a regular occurrence.  Getting up in the middle of the night for bottles, pacifiers, diapers, bad dreams,  and sometimes they just want their dad.  When they were first learning to walk they would wake up in the middle of the night to practice so I would put a movie on until they were sleepy again and ready to go back to dreamland.  Now they just want to be on top of Dad while they sleep which is fantastic.  Being acquainted with the night has it's drawbacks for sure.  You're tired all the time, people can tell by the bags under your eyes.  You can't remember things your wife told you the day before which is always a marriage booster.  Also, it's just not good for you.  On the other hand, you learn to function on not a lot of sleep.  You also notice things.  Why do my weird neighbors keep their lights on all night.  Where is the helicopter going that flies over a couple times a week at night.  Why does the ice maker sound like a damn avalanche in the middle of the night.  All valid questions.  The real question is when is it going to stop.  I'm sure in a few short years when the go off to college sleep will come to me like an old friend, but for now I'll remain acquainted with the night.  And hey, I'm a BadTwinDad.....Me and Robert Frost....when two roads diverged in the woods, we took the one less traveled.  Mine had twins on it.  I'm going to keep on keepin on! 
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Monday, September 21, 2015


It's like trying to vacuum the carpet with a leaf blower.  It is as frustrating as trying to start your car with a bread stick instead of a key.  It's like trying to see through a brick wall.  How do you discipline twins who aren't saying but a few words, but for damn sure can read each others minds and before you call BS, I've seen them do it.  I've seen them share a glance, giggle to one another and without hesitation run over to the table grab onto it like it was a jungle gym and start swinging from it.  The kitchen table is their favorite climbing opportunity for sure but their second favorite apparatus is the TV stand.  Tonight my wife had some business to attend to so I was running the show and the twins wouldn't stay off of it.  As my frustration escalated, so did the joy they received from the activity.  Henry seemed to be the instigator so I put him in time out for about twenty seconds and explained to him his infraction and turned him loose.  He immediately ascended the TV stand.  So I tried again.  Same results.  What am I supposed to do, build a fence around the TV because if that's what it takes I know a guy.  How do you communicate with these two dudes!  The more I tell them no, the more they laugh in my face!  One of the most infuriating unstoppable things that goes on is spitting.  They drink their fill of their favorite beverage, milk and then they proceed to just spit it on the damn floor!  It's very easy to stop this once you catch them in the act, just take the milk, but if you're making a bed or putting laundry away and you come out of a bedroom to find puddles of milk decorating the hall way it tends to set you off.  Then once you do take it away from him they cry like you just stepped on there foot and called them the N word.  If you try to head them off at the pass and just watch for the first sign of turning milk into a projectile, they know.  They turn their backs.  "No spitting!" makes them laugh like crazy and when I tell them they can forget about using the car Saturday night, it goes in one ear and out the other.  If anyone has a suggestion on how to get them to listen to reason by all means leave a comment I mean I'm spinning my wheels over here.  Someone should write a book on parenting twins I mean.  Like us on facebook at BadTwinDad and leave a comment, shit write me a letter if you think you have something that will help me get threw to these doppelgangers.  I'm going to go eat a piece of chocolate and have a beer.  I'm a BadTwinDad.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Kid's Shows

It's probably a good idea that children not watch a lot of television.  It's probably better for their eyes, for their mood, for their mental development.  It's most likely better for their overall health in general, but in a house of twins things need to get done.  Television is a way to accomplish things without the children whining, grabbing at you or generally running circles around the pile of toys they just peed on.  It's way easier to do the dishes when two doppelgangers aren't pulling your gym shorts to your knees.  So we put the TV on.  Let's go over a few programs for children these days shall we.  Daniel Tiger.  Daniel Tiger is a kind of spin off of the incredible, amazing, timeless gem that is Mr. Rogers Neighborhood.  Fred Rogers would not know weather to shit or wind his watch if he saw this horrific imitation of his contribution to the development of young minds he spent his life on!  First off, Daniel Tiger's dad is about as creepy as the whole first season of True Detectives.  He definitely has some bodies hidden in that clock workshop.  Let's not forget the fact he doesn't wear pants.  Daniel's mom wears pants.  Not Daniel's dad....walks around with his tiger out all the time.  Daniel's best friend is Miss Elaina.  She is the same age as him and he refers to he as MISS Elaina.  Why is this?  I kinda think it's because she's black.  What a racist little nazi tiger this Daniel is.  Moving on.  Bo on the Go.  Bo on the Go is a whole lot of nonsensical dancing with no story that bombards you with colors to cover up the piles of shit stacked to the ceiling of this carnival tent of hokum.  Kids seem to like it though.  I could go on about other shows on TV, but let me tell you what the worst thing that kids watch videos.  I'm not talking about the alphabet song or Old Mcdonald had a Farm.  My kids will sit there for hours watching strange people unbox toys and give a play by play of the whole ordeal like it's the pregame show of the super bowl.  It doesn't even matter what it is, they are glued to that 42 inch screen just to see whats in that plastic easter egg or piece of play-doh.  What is so amusing about some seemingly latin chick with busy fingernails showing people how to take legos out of the package and proceed to build the castle from Frozen.  I'm not kidding, if my guys hear "Hi guys, Disney Collector here" they drop what they're doing and they will not blink until that's My Little Pony is out of the box and thoroughly put through it's paces.  Never once have they watched that bitch open something up and say "May I please have one of those".  To be fair the twins can't say much yet but J never shuts up and he just wants to watch her open the entire contents of the action figure isle of Target.  I shouldn't be making fun of Disney Collector, that channel was the MOST successful channel on youtube last year.   Because kids park themselves in front of the TV and just sit there for hours drooling like a 200 pound mastif.   

Kid's watch a lot of nonsense and we let them so we can do the things parents need to do like sweep the floor, do the dishes or just catch our breath sometimes.  It can't be that bad for them right?  Please like us on facebook at Badtwindad and feel free to leave comments.  I'm sure there are better ways to keep your kids occupied while you get things done but what do I know, I'm a BadTwinDad.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Supermom's Birthday

SuperTwinMom's Birthday

My wife's birthday has been an all day affair.  She deserves it.  I started the day off with breakfast for everyone consisting of bacon, eggs, sausage, toast and strawberries, her favorite.  She very much enjoyed it but the children ate maybe a quarter of what was given to them.  I never understand how a child can eat next to nothing at almost every meal and still go all day like a sled dog in the Iditarod.  Now on my wife's birthday I try to do as much as I can so she can have a day of relaxation and enjoyment.  This in mind, I did the dishes and cleaned up breakfast.  I got the boys cleaned off and dressed for the day's activities and packed a picnic for later.  At this point I could take a nap but again it's my wife's birthday and I'm committed to giving her a nice day so apple picking we will go.  The drive to the orchard is pleasant and uneventful.  No yelling or crying just driving like the bunch of gentleman we are with our lone female representative: Mommy.  We arrive around 10 and it is a scorcher of an apple picking party.  The boys received their orders, descended on the trees, picked apples and sweated through their shirts.  Ten pounds of fruit was loaded into the van and after our picnic we went home for nap.   Well the twins had a nap and I set about cleaning the house for the dinner I had planned for my wife and her parents that evening all the while my wife is making candy apple's with our older son J.  At this point I'm starting to wind down from the day's activities and can use a rest but I have things to do and still a wife to give the best birthday I can.  At this point O wakes up with an eruption from his hind quarters the smell of which could down an Alaskan moose.  H wakes up as a result of the action and probably the smell too, so they are both awake and pissed and the house isn't totally clean yet.  When my wife see's this she asks if I need any help.  A crossroads has been reached.  Do I take the help or continue my plan of doing everything myself.  "No babes I got this!"  Which is what I said but couldn't be further from the truth.  The twins are proceeding to undo all the tiding I've just tidied and I'm in a state of shitting my pants!  It's impossible to get everything done.  How in the world does she do this everyday without having a nervous breakdown every ten minutes.  I mean really it's like trying to swim with your feet tied up and a twenty pound rock on your back.  Not only are they wrecking the joint but they are having....disagreements at every turn.  O hits H with an airplane, H hits O with a train track and again, AGAIN!, they will not stop climbing the fucking TABLE!  It's like the K2 of our house, it must be climbed in order to have satisfaction in life.  I want to throw it in the yard and burn it.  So my wife lends a loving hand and I take the gun out of my mouth and diner goes pretty well actually.

It's funny how men have little idea of how hard staying at home with small children can be.  I knew it was trying but at some point I thought to myself that if I were her and I did this everyday I would have been in an insane asylum using mashed potatoes as shampoo by now with gravy.  Gravy for sure.  So what I'm trying to say is Happy Birthday babes!  You do more in a day than most of us with children pulling at your pants and whining about how the straw in their milk is the wrong color.  You're like net under the tightrope walkers at the circus but probably smell way better.  I don't know how you do it but I know one thing, I'm a BadTwinDad.

Saturday, September 5, 2015



Well what can you say about it.  Worst time of day.  Anxiety galore.  Fuck bedtime.  I feel it as I make my drive home from work.  The work day is done, but the inevitability of the nightly battle of wills that is bedtime keeps the body on edge like a hobo who's just finished his last pint of Night Train.  Bedtime starts innocent enough.  Dinner has been cleaned up.  The marinara tinged bath water has been splashed all over Daddy's shorts and everyone is in their favorite PJ's.  Round one starts with putting the twins in their cribs with a bottle of milk, a small toy, and as many pacifiers as we can scrounge.  For the first ten minutes all the wife and I can hear is the ticking of the clock and the sound machine playing ocean sounds in their room. Tick Tick Tick.  Then the small sounds of bottles hitting the sides of cribs.  Now this is where success can be won or the shit can hit the fan and in this house it's usually the latter.  First H sounds the alarm by saying "Uh Ohh" over and over then O starts up by throwing everything out of his crib which only incites further "Uh Ohhs" from H.  Then the crying and screaming starts.  At this point you have two choices.  You can let the situation play out which usually results in someone vomiting all over themselves, the crib, and the carpet or you can let them out.  Round two......see round one.  Now that we are getting into round three, the anxiety level has gone up, diapers have been changed, and milk has been replenished.  Now parents of singletons at this point would just rock the kid to sleep or let them fall asleep with them on the couch with his or her's favorite stuffed animal.  Fuck that!  I throw those little savages in the black murdered out mini van and start rollin.  I'm sure a lot of you have songs that help your little nose pickers go to sleep like classical music, Paul Simon, or whatever the latest lullaby album on the market is.  I play 90's rap.  That's right Snoop Dog and Dre put my kids to sleep.  Now this ride could take twenty minutes or it could take 45, but the whole time 50 Cent is talking about how I can find him in the club with a bottle of Bub, whatever that means.  By the time my little animals have become sleeping beauties I feel a little tougher from all the Gangster Rap I've been exposed to.  I usually text the wife something like "Put the bottles in the crib you badass bitch, I'm rolling with two shorties ready to go" which usually results in confusion on her part because she hasn't been deluded with nonsense for the past hour.  When I get home with them, it's a delicate matter.  Getting them from the van to their bedroom without waking them is like robbing a candy store, if you get away with it it's sweet but if you get caught and they wake up they shit themselves and the night just got longer.  

I'm not saying every single night is like this but I will tell you about 3 or more nights a week does result in a ride down a country road or two.  I'm sure there are better ways to put twins to bed but what do I know, I'm just a BadTwinDad.

Friday, September 4, 2015



Alright twin dads lets get something straight, none of us are exceptional at this!  How could you be there's two of them to deal with and that's only if you don't have any other kids running around.    Me, I have one older son, J who is three and a half, just kicked his three and a half year diaper habit and likes to treat  "the brothers" as he calls them like his own personal tackle dummies.  The twins themselves, H and O, who I'm convinced can read each others minds are the cutest most adorable little savages I've ever seen.  They will be two on Thanksgiving.  So this is what we are working with.  Yes sir we run the zone defense at our place. As you would expect they come at us with the overload offense and usually aren't shy about throwing elbows.  And if you are by yourself while the wife is getting some much needed R&R like I was tonight, your fucked.  I turned around from doing the dishes to find H and O standing on the dining room table smiling and O saying "Hi".  At this point J informed me the brothers were standing on the table....thanks for looking out buddy!

It is my intension, with this blog, to share my experiences, moan about my hardships, sprinkle in a little comedy, and offer any advice I can on raising twins.  But what do I know, I'm a BadTwinDad.