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.