Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Bamm Bamm
D: Recently our little guys have been wowing us with their super-baby strength and ambition. It seems that nothing will stand in their way to reach their goal of both horizontal freedom and sweet, sweet mobility. And while we are never quick to judge their differences, these particular objectives are clearly more evident in Finn.O just seems to be much more laid back about things lately, and has chosen to stand back and watch how his brother does the job. In the meantime, O is fascinated with his feet and has come up with a new game called "take my socks off, and then throw them where mommy can't find them."
F's recent most recent achievement has been standing with his legs locked while someone holds his hands. He LOVES to stand. It is adorable how proud he is of himself while doing it. He gets very determined to stay standing as long as he can, using all his strength to remain upright. He reminds us of little Bamm Bamm!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
muttering "f*cking breeders"
W: First, I apologize. I know this post will inevitably offend someone, me being me, so I'm starting with an apology. This blog post, as you may be able to tell from the title involves a certain "f" word. It also involves the Deuce, D, and couple of goth/raver kids. Don't worry, it's funny.
The second caveat is that D and I absolutely love Seattle. I don't want folks thinking that I'm bitching about my fellow Seattle people - I'm not. On the contrary, D and I wouldn't trade our city and all its little quirks for the world -- and yes, that includes our two young foul-mouthed goth/raver kids.
You see, D and I are late-era American Gen Xers, a generation roughly defined as those souls born betwix 1965 and 1978. And while we missed our generation's slacker and hardcore angst periods, we still vividly remember the '80s, and in the '90s, we turned 20, finished college, and moved to Seattle, the original Gen X city.
A bit thankfully, we missed grunge, but were here for the first dot com boom and bust, and we even went to a few raves along the way. I guess what I'm saying is that we've seen a bunch of funny trends, and neither of us ever got too wrapped up in any of them. It's not that we don't like the trends - we absolutely do, but it is because they provide the color.
When I moved here, the city seemed so young. Two things were hard to find: native Seattlites and old people. And a decade later city still seems young. Maybe it's the lack of sun that keeps Seattle faces fresh and toned. I don't know, but what I do know is that living in a young city has a price: There is a lack of kid-friendly restaurants in this city.
Which brings me to the story about the goth/raver kids. Last week, D and a friend of ours met for lunch in the Capital Hill neighborhood - an eclectic, fun, and urban part of town that is known for "alternative" lifestyles. I put the word "alternative" in scare quotes because, well, it's silly to call things alternative, isn't it? I don't want to go down that rabbit hole, so I'll just say that Capital Hill is known for being liberal and gay-friendly, but it's also much more than that. It's the happening part of town, and as such, it skews even younger than most other neighborhoods in liberal, gay-friendly Seattle.
The restaurant where they met for lunch was cramped and uncomfortable, mainly because of the Deuce and their requisite gear. But D is a determined city-dwelling parent, and she forged on despite the obstacles.
The lunch conversation naturally turned to how Seattle has so few kid-friendly restaurants. At that point in the conversation, our friend, who works at a popular Capital Hill restaurant, shared a dirty little secret: Many of her co-workers absolutely and openly despise determined city-dwelling parents who tote their kids to crowded hipster restaurants.
And that wasn't all. They have a derogatory word us: "Breeders."
Unfamiliar with the word "breeder" used in that context, D was astonished. ("Breeders? Wow. Really?") The conversation drifted and then, like all lunch dates, theirs ended. D, while pondering her new vocabulary word, walked the Deuce back to the car in the super-long stroller. At that moment, Deuce-wise, all hell broke loose. For our Seattle readers, this next scene went down on Broadway in the middle of the afternoon (!!). For our non-local readers, Broadway is the main drag, the epicenter of "alternative hipster" Seattle - there's just a lot going on.
So there was D, on Broadway at her car with an enormous double stroller. O started first. It was immediately and abundantly clear that he needed his diaper changed 10 minutes ago. Unfazed, D whipped out a diaper and started to change O on the front passenger seat with F in the stroller. And then F started to cry.
Again unfazed, D firmly planted one foot on the sidewalk and rocked the stroller with her free foot while she simultaneously changed O. And then, right as she removed Ollie's diaper, she realized she did not have a bag to put the diaper in so we could return it to the cloth diaper service. So D, yet again unfazed, put the dirty diaper on the sidewalk next to her firmly planted foot, continued to change O and rock Finn with her only remaining free limb.
Now pause for a second here, one would think that this scene would engender sympathy for the thoroughly taxed new young mother of twins. But recall the setting: It's the epicenter of Seattle alterna-hip. And right as D finished freshly diapering O, she looked up and caught the gaze of a couple of young goth/raver kids walking by, peering out of their black eye shadow at her, the Deuce, and the dirty diaper lying next to her firmly planted foot on the sidewalk.
And one goth/raver, lip predictably pierced, muttered to the other just loud enough for D to hear, "Fucking breeders."
Cut, end scene.
Seriously now, Seattle parenting doesn't get any better than that for us late-vintage Gen Xers. We love it. I mean, what are the chances of learning that the term "breeder" is used pejoratively to describe you, the new urban Gen X parent, and then 15 minutes later have the same word hurled at you as an "insult" by some goth/raver kids? As I said before, it's the color.
That evening I came home and D couldn't wait to tell me the story. We laughed and laughed, and then I made her tell me the story again, and we laughed some more.
Yep, that's us, fucking breeders.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Happy Father's Day!
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Interactive Inertness
W: Watch out folks, the twins are growing quickly. Our little guys are starting to kick, lift and roll with purpose, and we're counting down the weeks and months to mobility. It's nice, this period of interactive inertness, an oxymoron in any other context except in the world of 4 1/2-month-olds. It refers to this wonderful period of time where we're able to twins down and know with 100% certainty that the little guys are going to be within a 4 foot diameter of where we set them when we left the room. After all, rolling only gets you so far.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Cirque de Doe Bay
W: This past weekend D and I packed up the Deuce in the family truckster and headed out of town with some dear friends for a getaway at Doe Bay on Orcas Island. Orcas Island is a special place for D and me for many reasons, but it is especially so because I proposed to her there one October weekend a few years back. We try to return to the island at least once per year, and each time that we do, the island’s pull becomes stronger and stronger.
Call it a magical sway. As soon as we step out of our car and onto the ferry deck we can feel whatever we’ve been carrying around shed off like peeling layers from an onion. Slowly, the old cracked layers fall off and worries are forgotten as new experiences create memories that will be shared again and again around a table of family and friends for years to come.
Each visit to the island is a measuring stick that allows us to see how much we’ve grown or changed over the past year. Last year we returned from Orcas Island on the day before our anniversary. That next day, I returned home to find D grinning ear-to-ear and holding an anniversary gift in her hands. She ordered me to open it immediately, and I gladly complied. Out of the wrapped canister popped a pregnancy test that had a little pink “+” at one end. Forgetting that “+” is the universal sign for “positive,” I asked in a voice that I normally reserve for live sporting events, “WHAT DOES THE '+' MEAN?!” D cleared it up for me - quite an anniversary gift - and in and instant, we were dancing around our living room with the dogs jumping and barking. I think our good luck had something to do with the island.
Speaking of the dogs, like last year we brought them along for this trip, and they loved it even though they were relegated to the back of the truck with the rest of the cargo. Sedro played fetch all weekend while Chili Bean entertained us like a court jester. We always chuckle at the thought of Chili Bean returning to the wild, and it became one of our recurring weekend conversation topics.
At one point in the middle of the night after letting the Bean out to go potty, I called him to come back inside. Far off and away from our cabin, so much so that only the feint sound of his tinkling dog tag was audible, Chili Bean, clearly channeling the call of the wild, bounded towards me through the moonlit field of dewy grass so tall I couldn’t even see his legs. When he reached me, he was smiling with his wheezy pug grin, tongue out, and panting. I could barely contain my laughter so as not to wake everyone up.
Our friends and their three-year-old and six-month-old had a wonderful time too, despite the long drive, and the three-year-old’s mini-puke festival that may have ruined their portable DVD player and definitely ruined their Friday night’s rest (“Get the bucket!”). Our friends handle parenting with grace, and we learned so much from them. We will miss them in the Northwest, but we can’t wait to see them when we visit their new Midwest home.
And finally, the Deuce! They were wonderful little travelers that added so much to our Orcas Island experience. And by “added” I don’t just mean that they added to the love, but they also added to the gear. The amount of stuff we pack for a weekend has quadrupled even though our family has only doubled.
The little gubba-gubbas (my new word for them) are in what folks tell me is that nifty stage where they are interactive, but not yet mobile. Or at least that’s what I thought. On Saturday, I tucked O into his sun blocker tent to play with his fuzzy toys while I tossed the Frisbee. Ten minutes later, I was in trouble with D because O had rolled himself out of the tent and onto the deck floor. I agree with D: Babies don’t look right on a bare wooden deck floor. Oh well, I guess that’s how they roll (Ha! – I can’t wait to teach them that one.)
Well, that’s enough chitchat for now. Here are some pictures from the weekend:
Friday, June 01, 2007
Working Mom
D: If you can't tell from the lack of posts, Twin Town has been a busy, busy place lately. We have been trying to figure out our new routines and learning how to time everything just right. I've learned that adults need routines almost more than the babies do.
It's funny, I've always been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda person...someone who doesn't really get hung up on the logistics. Now life is all about logistics. Once everything is in it's place, life is manageable. I'm sure it won't always be this way, but it helps to at least pretend that you've got things under control.
Today I learned one of the first tips of being a working mom. Do not get dressed in the morning before feeding the kids.
I woke up early, before the Deuce, thinking "great, I can get ready before they wake up!" Unfortunately as I was headed out the door, after their morning breakfast and quick burp, I realized one (or probably both!) had spit up all over the front of my dress. Instead of changing I thought it would be quicker to rinse it and then use a hair dryer, but it took a good 20 minutes to dry.
So not only did I arrive late to work today, it was only after I arrived at my desk that I realized I smell like spoiled milk.