Airplanes and Holy Water

We recently made another trip back to IL, this time for a family wedding, and to have the boys baptized. Why even think about driving when you have the chance to change a diaper at 35,000 feet? If that alone isn't worth the ticket price, seeing the faces of the 4 poor souls in our row made it worth every dime. Kristin, who is much less bitter toward humanity, actually took her crying lad to the back of the plane, while Finn and I just sat in our seats and cried about the leg room. She later returned with a free Toblerone candy bar, and grumbled something about karma being a bitch. After snatching it from her hand and chowing it in one swift motion, I asked if she was sure about that.

Our driver (Russ) showed up promptly as usual, and we were both ready to hand off babies to the waiting Grandmothers. In regards to baby care, our weekend was a piece of cake. Its the referee duties that kept us both on our toes. Time spent with the boys has evolved and is now categorized into different tiers of quality. Group time doesn't count, and alone time is to be split evenly 50/50 without question. And if either Grandmother tells you they aren't counting the minutes, send them on their way. That isn't to say that we all can't play nice together because we can and did. But, alone time with the boys, when nobody else can see the ridiculous faces that are made, is gold for a Grandma.

Above: Nina and Steve, the Godparents of Finley Jacob

The wedding service for Kristin's cousin Lindsey went well. The boys were well behaved until the bride walked down the aisle. Eliot and I then decided to inspect the neighboring soybean field, while Grandma Cyndi and Finn went on their own field trip through the parking lot and beyond. All things considered, having one of the creatures during the church service is the way to go, especially if you are occasionally bored by the droning sound of chanting in unison. And no disrespect intended, even the boys mustered up the reverence to participate in their rite of passage the following morning.

The church service was about to begin when we got the message that my brother Dan was lost, but we could go ahead and start anyways. Thank God. So it began, and eventually both sets of Godparents were holding a boy, renounced the evils of the world, and dunked him. Steve and Nina are close as both family and friends, and may be the only source of steady sanity in a chaotic family. Brett and Britt, cousins from Kristin's side, are now forced to make a trip or two out west to check on their nephews and instruct them in the ways of running a football. These four folks combined with the mix of Catholic and Lutheran

onlookers, offered a balanced welcome into the world of God, good, and religion. All four Godparents sponsored a boy in part because they have a strong moral fiber; they might not ask what it takes to be a good person, but they also don't have to be told. And the other part is their gift giving capabilities, which they all demonstrated well on Sunday.

Right: Brett and Britt, Godparents of Eliot Cash

The service continued on, and soon enough we had our first experience in the cry room, where we found Shawn's entire family camped out. We left the boys and paid a visit to Dan and Carly sitting in the back row, who gave me some story about how they showed up just in the nick of time to witness the blessing. Carly reeked bourbon from the previous night, and Dan forgot his clothes as he left Chicago in a hazy stupor. He walked up to receive communion wearing my dad's clothes and having to use one hand to hold up his pants. Most people would be embarrassed, but Dan and his baggy pants arrived back at his pew with a smile on his face and said, "its hammer time."

The Catholic side of the family made fun of the Lutheran communion offering individual portions of wine, both red and white (as if they have any room to talk.) And the Lutheran side made fun of the Catholics for using the baptism bath as holy water to make the sign of the cross with. I still don't see the problem with that, but laugh it up. Good times had by all, and the boys are blessed and on their way.

Gouda and Great Granparents

Five years from now I want a goat named Gouda. I want to make my own goat variation of Holland goodness, and it would be really nice to have something compete with the Super Mario Brothers for the boys' attention. I'm not saying the fellas will opt for milking the goat on a lazy Saturday, and I'm not saying they need to strut around wearing spurs either. It just seems nowadays kids have their parents convinced that if they play enough video games, they will all grow up to be fighter pilots. Don't kid yourselves, too much Donkey Kong leads to too much Mario Kart leads to a liberal arts degree. Papa Kettle over here didn't need 30 lives to beat Contra, so we may have to consult the elder generations for some back-to-basics wisdom.

Bob and Judy, the new Great Grandparents, were the most recent visitors the boys had the pleasure of entertaining, and are a welcome influence whether on the farm or at the cabin. They stopped by on their way to explore the western slope of the Rockies, making Colorado the third state in which they have been able to spend time with the boys. A group of 8 or so arrived by train, a classy way of snubbing the super-highways that Bob refuses to travel. I'm not sure Judy appreciated having to share the babies with friends during such a brief visit, but she hid that well.

Judy was first able to meet the boys a few months ago back in their pre-mature state, and needing to be fed every 2 hours - the help was awesome. She even picked Rhubarb from the yard (albeit of the 'weed variety' that we grow out here in Colorado) and made pies! Never mind the fact that she made the thousand mile journey alone with her son-in-law. I'm just glad she had the chance to set him straight.

Bob, a retired basketball coach and farmer, doesn't miss a sunrise and has some great stories if you can make it up for breakfast. Some people celebrated the birth of the fellas with a toast, and others with a card or phone call. Not Bob. Bob honored the boys by naming his newborn horses Eli and Finn. And that was after his failed attempt to name our sons Oscar and Oli. I'm not sure if having the boys sit on the horses was entirely necessary, but Bob seemed like it was the normal thing for any 2 month old child. I just figured all that manure would make for a nice soft landing if one of the lad lost his balance. Who needs video games when you can race your brother on a horse? Heck, Bob has wagons and draft horses they can race if the little colts become a bore.

With a little luck, some of those values and ways of life will trickle down to the boys. Even Russ claims to have invented the Rag Ball when he should have been bailing hay! My parents can put them to work in the future vineyard, Russ has them stitching rag balls, Cyndi has them making gourds, and Bob has them fixing wagons. Between those wholesome chores and milking Gouda the goat, maybe Kristin and I can finally eat cheese, drink wine and play Sega.

Nature vs. Nurture

The fellas and I have been outside for a couple hours now. Finn is indifferent, but Eliot is gradually making the back deck his personal sanctuary. Inside, he always seems to look past people, and fixates on the walls or ceiling. I don't think he has any particular interest in the cob-webbed corners, he just can't figure out why we would stay in the cave all day long. Once out back, he is calm and happy. His busy little brain still scans the yard, probably looking for the best pumpkin to call dibs on. And he loves his dogs.... more than people I think. Anubis will give him the full lick down, and he just stands in his bouncer with a look of gratitude, and maybe a bit of pack pride. That is fine with us, we could care less if Eliot wants to be raised by the wolves. Last I checked, Purina costs less than formula, and there is plenty of space for a crib on the back deck. And don't go calling human services just yet Shawn, I have a mosquito net that will work perfectly fine.

Finley, on the other hand, is playing his cards just right. Sure, he likes the trees and dogs just fine for what they are, but he never misses an opportunity for a staring contest.... whoever smiles longest without laughing wins. He would sleep on your shoulder for hours if you let him, and always wants to be a part of the action. With a room full of people, Finn watches whoever is talking, pretends to listen, and won't break into that smile until you look right at him giving him the spotlight he was looking for.

I'm surprised, at this point, how much of their personality is pre-determined..... a genetic program that parents can hopefully provide positive reinforcement toward. With that said, those with experience have mentioned we will be even more surprised to see how much they change. I guess we have our work cut out for us. I suppose if we keep at it, Eliot might go on to be a forest ranger rather than a backwoods hermit. And Finn? Well lets just assume that a happy circus clown is a successful one. I'm not playing favorites here Finn, your uncles just haven't had the chance to teach you how to throw a fastball yet. All in good time.

Hey, I Know You

Those that haven't seen the boys in awhile have commented on how alert they appear lately. I guess its hard to see change when you are a part of it every day, and I almost feel like I'm missing out a little. Maybe that is why 'firsts' are so special to the parents, and laughable to most anybody else. There was no significant 'first' when I approached a fussing Finn is his crib last night, but it felt great to notice him remembering his pops.

Ordinarily, a fussing lad requires shushing, rocking, or at the very least a pacifier to calm him. I just leaned over the side rail and he immidiately wobbled his big head in surprise. The argument can be made that he was just startled, but his eyes were focussed when he shot me that half smirck. Not the all out goofy smile that he hams up for the ladies, but that delayed tough guy grin that he didn't expect to have to use. At 2 o'clock in the morning he just figured that dad was floating off somewhere to fight pirates like usual, and it would be mom to the rescue. Thank God he didn't start sceaming. A few seconds of holding his eyes shut, and he was back asleep. You really see how dependent they are when they wake up confused, and unsure who is on deck with a bottle.

Don't take yourself so seriously, nobody else does. I was given that advice once, and slept easier with that in mind. The only problem is that Eliot and Finley both disagree. They have an agenda every day and take it very seriously. Sometimes they watch me fumble around the kitchen to make coffee in the morning, and I can see them wondering how this could possibly be more important than their second breakfast. And then they take you seriously at 2 in the morning when they can't sleep. They get smarter and more observant every day, seeing that you too are serious about things, and rest assured knowing that.

Hot Shots

We enjoy spicy foods quite a bit out here. There must be 10 or 15 different kinds of peppers out back waiting to be mixed into a salsa, or pureed for the next batch of Two Pooch Pepper Sauce. I will admit, modesty escapes me when it comes to the vegetable garden, so I figured the pediatrician ought to know a little about Jurassic Park.

We had the boys in for their 4 month check-up, and after a brief lecture about more tummy time, Dr. Jim started discussing solid foods and how to introduce them. He finally recognized the home grown squash, pumpkins, etc that could all be made into baby food. I jokingly murmured to Eliot that we would be nice and lay off the habeneros for a year or two. "Not necessary," says Dr. Jim. He tried telling us that in other areas of the world, people feed hot peppers to their infants all the time. Now I could be way off here, but just because Doc likes his Thai food spicy doesn't mean infants in Southeast Asia live on hot peppers. I have a hunch that rice cereal might be a bit easier on the acid reflux Dr. Jim.

With more family now reading this baby banter, and these tid bits being the only written log of the boys so far, we had better start including those already having a huge impact on the first four months. With such a huge support group of friends and family, catching up will take months so lets start with the present.

This week Grandpa Kevin is in town "on business" again. Funny how these business trips to Colorado have become so frequent. How many times can you count chickens dad? No complaints, a visitor bearing gifts of fried chicken and chineese food is welcome here any time. Of his many traits I respect, self reliance ranks pretty high, but one should at least be able to walk first. The boys were still cranky from their shots yesterday, so Grandpa tells them that you don't get shots if you stay away from doctors. I suddenly had flashbacks of him standing next to the chimney in Wheaton stitching himself up so that mom didn't see the gash. Thanks dad, but we might just opt for modern medicine with these guys. The word on the streets is that Finn looks like a cross between Grandpa Kevin and Elmer Fudd, while Eliot looks like a Benjamin Button version of Grandpa Russ. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it doesn't sound like either boy will be a ladies man. Maybe we should move to Asia, eat spicy peppers, and collect dowry.

Oh Brother Where Art Thou

Mark the day. It only took these squirts nearly 4 months, but they are finally starting to recognize each other. Not only the reaction to another screeching sound, but also I think they are starting to figure out this other gremlin might be hanging around for awhile.

Some of my first thoughts after finding out twin boys were on the way, were of the 6-4-3 double play combination for the 2029 Chicago Cubs. I just assumed they would be in sync and inseparable. When people asked if the two were buddies yet, I just would sort of dodge the question. Truth is, they have been like dogs in a kennel, not really caring about the other caged up poop factory. Now that is all starting to change.

The boys have been getting their bottles on the couch so that we can all stare at one another and talk about the neighborhood girls etc. Finally, after a healthy lunch, Finn looked right at Eliot and burst out laughing. Eliot stopped sucking down his bottle, and just sneered at Finn. His eyes looked Finn up and down, then he went back to his bottle. I'm pretty sure Eliot briefly understood where the other half the milk was going, and didn't like it one bit. I'm pretty sure his upper lip quivered in disgust. Finn got distracted by a zipper and Eliot started plotting an attack. We are thrilled they are interacting some, and the best part is how they show their own personalities with every expression. Unlike grown ups, babies aren't afraid to express what they think, which is exactly what makes them and my brother Chris so entertaining.

To this point, Finn has been that happy-go-lucky goofball that doesn't get too concerned about anything. When he smiles, you wonder if he is trying to bite his own ear. He eats fast and often, has no problem finishing his brothers leftovers, and has earned the nickname, 'slug.' When awake and not eating, he enjoys nuzzling his head into your chest, and staring at you. He is extremely patient. He will stare you down until you finally give in and look over at him, at which point you are greeted by a huge but shy smile.

Eliot has only recently shown his personality because of digestion issues. He is less distracted of late, and has realized that its okay to look at people in the eyes. You don't get the benefit of the doubt with this one, however. He will look around the room with his head jerking every which way, just to make sure there are no surprises. Once relaxed he will look at you. While Finn is eager to laugh and play little games, Eliot will size his opponent up before giving in to that smile that portrays him as an Italian baker. But enjoy it, because the smile won't last long. You are not the adult care-giver, but only his equal that has been allowed to take part in his day.


I can't wait until they are 5. "Hey Finn, you go hide and I'll count to 20 and come find you." Poor Finn, at least bring the dog with you.

Camp Crybaby

August arrived the other day, and Eliot mentioned his frustrations about not camping yet. Finn was too busy smiling at the dogs to really care, but Eliot has a renewed sense of adventure now that his acid reflux issue has improved (Prevacid works better then Zantac.) In the past, camping was nothing more then wandering around the wilderness with a cooler of beer, eventually picking a spot that had enough space for a wiffle ball game. But now with the twins, and a friend with a 1-yr old, planning and preparedness were the new themes.

After a few scouting missions in the front range, the boys and I found a great campsite in the Lost Creek Wilderness. No campsite fee, no yahoo enforcing quiet hours, only ponderosa pines and granite rock formations surrounding a fire pit. We even found a washed out gravel road that followed the Buffalo Creek for several miles, and wide enough for an off-road jogging stroller. At 8,500 feet, the wilderness offered a bit of fresh air, scenery, and solitude, yet Denver was a mere 45 minutes away in the event of a baby meltdown.

Brian, a good friend and Eagle Scout, had a fully functioning kitchen up and running by lunchtime. Zorra had the bears, lions and ground squirrels at bay, and Anubis had successfully covered herself in another animals scat. Everything seemed normal except for the 3 screaming creatures. How was I supposed to wittle a spear and prepare for a bear attack with all that racket going on? It turns out, the campers travel hammock was the perfect solution. This worked just like a swing, and didn't even require D batteries! By sunset, all three boys had adapted to their new home for the day, and the mothers were drinking champagne straight from the bottle.

Sleeping went pretty smooth for the most part. The temp bottomed out at 40, and Kris and I each had one in the sleeping bag with us for the few hours before sunrise, just to be on the safe side. Carter, the campsite toddler, slept well in his pack n' play that fit perfectly fine in the Taj Majal of REI rental tents. Okay, it wasn't exactly a Survivor Man episode out there, but it was a good first camping trip with the fellas.