Scott On the Orwigs

Wow it's a busy weekend. Grocery shopping, pool-safety shopping and flower shopping. I've been putting the finishing touches on the pool, which means I finally had to take on the uncomfortable, confusing, and not entirely un-dangerous job of relighting the pool heater. The water has been hovering in the 70s which is warm enough for the kids but not for us. It has to be at least in the low 80s before Sarah will even dip her . . .

Oh, wait . . . Sarah. Did you know Sarah just turned 40? Yes, I was there when it happened. We watched the clock turn over to midnight and I sang (softly - kids were sleeping) Happy Birthday. She did fine and I'm happy to have her in my age bracket. Then I kissed her goodnight and went back downstairs to feed the cats.

It turns out that having four kids really is keeping us young. Just not for the reasons anybody thinks.

Many people suggest that following the kids all over the place (and carrying two of them all over the place) must provide enough exercise to keep us in shape. But it doesn't. Sure, I get my heart rate up when I drop Grace off and pick her up at preschool. Carrying the twinlets (one at a time) out to the car, unloading the stroller, loading each twinlet into the stroller, pushing the stroller around the school, etc -- and then doing it in reverse -- twice -- does get the blood flowing. Sarah hauled both of the senior children through Target and Lowes today. But somehow it turns out kid excercise doesn't count. I think frustration must interfere somehow. For example, a stair climber provids excellent aerobic benifit, but if the stair climber also talked incessently, cried for NO good reason, demanded food, demanded the absence of food, and tried to wriggle away while you were changing it's diaper, then it would provide no aerobic benifit whatsoever.

I'm sure that could be proven in a labratory, but the research design would never make it past any review board. Too cruel for the experimental group. Even with rats.

Another way people suggest that kids will "keep you young" is by the viewing the world afresh through their innocent eyes. And sure, it's fun to watch the twinlets discover all the objects in the house (and taste them), and to see Harrison begin to make sense of the wider world around him. But largely what it reminds me is what a pain it was to be young. I mean, if an adult can't feed himself with a spoon we see that as a great hardship and send him for occupational therapy. That's the way the twinlets live EVERY DAY! And I am definately not jealous of HJ in the second grade. A ditto full of math problems would be the worst kind of torture for me. I'd rather do my taxes (and we pay someone to do those for us). Also I would rather be 80 years old than have to climb that rope in gym class again (even though I could totally do it now).

No, the way having four kids keeps us young is by keeping us too busy to notice we're getting old. Sarah didn't have time to dwell on her last hours in her thirties because she was too busy giving the twins a bath. She watched the clock roll over to midnight but then was much too tired from her day to stay up and think about it. Tomorrow she'll be rolling the twins around in the stroller and keeping hold of Grace while she watches Harrison and I in the Memorial Day parade. We're having dinner and cake at Grandma's but rather than mourning the passing of her youth, Sarah will be trying to feed two babies with one high chair.

So someday 20 or so years from now Sarah and I will wake up and realize we're in our sixties and ponder our advancing ages. Until then, though, we just don't have time.

Happy 40th, Dear. Hey, where did Shepard go?

We have a lot of video of Bear, the dog we loved to dogsit while his real family was away. Bear often seemed to be with us during family events and he is even included in some informal family photos. It wasn't just us who admired Bear, either. He had fans all over Michigan.

When editing some other video I realized this was recorded during one of Bear's first visits, so I gave Bear a rare video of his own.

Walking around with twins tends to break the ice a little in public places and we get asked questions a lot. One of the most common (after "Are they identical?" and "Do they keep you busy?") is "Have you seen Jon and Kate Plus 8?". And the answer to that is "yes." I think Sarah started watching it before we even knew we were having twins. We haven't been keeping up with it recently (we're a little busy) but we have noticed some similarities in our family situations even though theirs is much more intense. Some have even compared me to Jon, and yes we both are fathers of multiples, work in IT, and spend a lot of time at home. But there are important differences, too. Jon is in his thirties, has eight kids, and is married to a controlling woman who much of the time treats him like an employee with a performance problem and doesn't appreciate him. I, on the other hand, am in my forties and have four kids.

Still this report shocked me deeply. I absolutely cannot understand why a man like Jon would be interested in going to parties with college girls or staying out late at clubs with women. It's SO much more fun for a guy to stay home for the 45 minutes between the kids' bedtime and his bedtime, read email, and feed the cats. What was Jon thinking?

One thing is for sure, though. Even if someone could somehow convince me that I wanted to party with college girls' volleyball teams and go out to clubs, I would never do it. Because Jon and I have one thing completely in common: our wives would kill us.

Goodbye, Jon. I'll be thinking of you while I feed the cats.

Iris was born today at 5:53 PM. She was 8 pounds, 10 ounces in weight, 22 inches long, and no, she is not giving you the finger. Look carefully and you'll see it's the wrong finger.

Iris was born by C-section because she was breech. Speaking as a breech baby myself (who was born the old fashioned way back before C-sections were invented) a C-section is definitely the way to go for a baby who is pointed north. Vaginal birth is humiliating when you're breech. It's not just the bad first impression you make by backing into the world and introducing your butt to everyone before they've even seen your face. It's also the whole idea that you've basically screwed up your first task ever. Everything is provided for you in there, all you have to do is face down. It's just not a good start, and a C-section is a graceful way to get around all of it and get a clean start.

Anyway, word is that Megan and Iris are well. I can only guess that while Megan is the one who had the tougher day, Iris is doing most of the complaining. And this is just the beginning.

Congratulations to mother, father, aunts, and grandparents of various rank (Clara was just promoted to 'Great-Grandma'!).

The good news is that Amy appears to be fine. The bad news is we're not convinced the emergency room doctors really knew what the problem was. The good news is Amy is getting better rapdily. The bad news is there wasn't much room to go anywhere but up. The good news is that Amy now has quite a story to tell. The bad news is that Amy now has quite a story to tell.

I display this image not for political reasons. This isn't that kind of blog. 

Grace: Dad, will you open the washing machine?
Dad: [suspiciously] Why Grace?
Grace: Because it's stuck.
Dad: [more suspiciously] Why do you need it open?
Grace: To wash some clothes.
Dad: [sternly] What happened to the clothes, Grace?
Grace: They got dirty.
Dad: [more sternly] Grace, how did the clothes get dirty?
Grace: [pause] Barbie got them dirty.
Dad: [exasperated] Oh, so Barbie did it. Grace, what is on the clothes?
Grace: I don't know.
Dad: [sigh] [pause] [On the way to the laundry room] Okay, I'm coming.
Grace: [from the living room] No, not that one, Daddy. The one in Barbie's Dream House.
Dad: [relieved] Oh! Yeah, I'll open that one right now!