It has been a little while since I posted. We have been busy.
It is a lot more work with out any help, but we are doing it and we are still married.
The twins are doing really well. The feeding issues seem to be almost non existent at this point. They are doing very well on solid food. They are both pulling themselves into standing positions, but Jordan is still in the lead as far as development goes. I still think that Jordan will be walking by her first birthday. They are moving at will through the house and you have to watch your step. They are both facinated by the dogs and cat. The pets seem to like the attention, even if the twins are a little rough on them. The cat will actually seek the twins out to get attention and puts up with more tail pulling that I thought he would.
Reagan is just Reagan. Still no respect for authority. She does things that she knows that she shouldn't and when you catch her she just smiles, giggles, and moves on to something else that she knows she shouldn't be into. Armed with that smile and those eyes, I think that she will go far in this world.
Rylee has been a little accident prone the last couple of days and has chalked up the first real injury among the kids. She was playing with a large rock in the back yard. The rock, which was slightly larger than my fist, was lots of fun until she dropped it on her big toe. Her entire toe turned purple and her nail will fall off according to the doctor. The toe has since become infected, she is now on antibiotics, is restricted from the pool, must have the toe cleaned three times a day and must wear socks at all times.
Rylee called for me the day before yesterday as I was feeding the twins. "Daddy, daddy, daddy, DAAAAADDDYYY!" This is not unusual. "Rylee, you need to wait till I am done feeding the twins."
"Daddy?"
"Rylee, Daddy is busy. You need to wait."
"Daddy! Please."
"Sigh!" I get up to see what toy is malfunctioning or what marker needs to be uncapped. Then I see my oldest daughter at the bottom of the stairs. I could not make eye contact with her because her back was to me and she was unable to turn around. She was unable to turn around because her head was stuck in the banister. My first thought was "I should get the camera." Isn't that the one thing that every kid does at some point. How is it that the head fits through so easily, but won't come back out?
After examining the situation more closely, I was unable to conclude how she got her head in there in the first place. You would think that it would be just the ears that would prevent her from reversing her position, but there wasn't even enough room for the back of her head to fit back through the railing. I figured that there must be a specific angle that would allow her head to come back out if we just got her ears tucked in. With one hand on her chin and the other on the back of her head, I moved her noggin this way and that to no avail.
By this time the twins are screaming, Rylee is whimpering, and Reagan quiet (which we all know is not good.).
"Karrrri, I need some help!" At this point I was beginning to think that I may have to get my saws-all out and cut up my stairway. Which would have been kind of fun since I don't have many excuses to use it. So I started to look at the railings, wondering how hard it was going to be to replace. "Too hard." So with Kari pushing and me pulling while stretching the rails apart we finally got her head free. We managed to bruise her ear pretty good. I bet she won't do that again.
I hear that things like that happen in threes, so we are waiting for the next disaster to occur.
I think that it is a full time job just to change diapers. So far this morning, between 7:30 and noon, I have changed eight diapers, five of which required more than three wipes. That, by the way, is how dirty diapers are rated. From no wipes to about five wipes. A "five wiper" is quite spectacular and usually entails washing the changing table cover and cleaning under your nails. I have heard baby poop is one part toxic waste and one part velcro, and I can assure you that that description is fairly accurate.
If you are squeamish about poop, don't have kids and avoid dogs too. Bunker has soiled the floor two nights in a row. I don't know what his deal is, but it is not a nice way to wake up. Yesterday he left me a present in every room of the house and peed by the door for good measure.
Despite all the feces, we managed to get the house mostly clean in preparation for Nana and Grandpa Wayne, who are coming over for Mother's day weekend.