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.

Matching Clothes

The other day somebody asked if my twins wear matching clothes? Damn right they do, size 1 Pampers. And when they cost a quarter each, you had better notice Elmo's fat little head on them. If there is a cool draft, the boys each have a dog to snuggle and on occasion a blanket.

Okay, that isn't entirely true, the boys have matching Cubs shirts that we bring out when nobody is around. The Cubs actually have a record of 11-4 when the boys wear their shirts, so we will have to put those in a drawer until September. Kristin made the boys wear matching safari clothes to a family party last month, and sure enough Aunt Jessie was clever enough to chime in about how the boys will have an identity crisis. Glad to know there is a shrink in the family Jess. The reality is that you get a ton of gifts when expecting twins, and some of those gifts are matching outfits. They usually do not match, but sometimes they do, and I hope this irritates people because it makes for great entertainment. If the boys wear matching clothes in high school then I would say we have a problem and they need an ass kicking from uncle Dan.

Eliot and Finn are healthy and happy at 3 months old, and both have been enjoying their new skill of head butting. My brother Chris whined about taking a few shots to the nose and chin with his kids, and I just sort of laughed. Now that I get to play, I would have to agree that its like WWF. My personal favorite is when Finn gets a little momentum going with his giant melon. The thing is like a giant pendulum swinging out of control, that eventually crash lands on his brother's face. Maybe that is why Finn smiles so much more then Eliot.

Kristin and I went to a Mothers of Multiples (MOMS) picnic yesterday, and things went better then expected. I knew right away that the Fathers weren't in charge after I heard the announcement for us to line up for a potato sack race. I'm not even kidding, just the dads raced. Unfortunately I had a bum knee and had to get in the chow line with the ladies. We were both very impressed with how well behaved all the twins were. I guess they too decided on the von Trapp approach with the whistle and all. Sometimes you just see parents with their kids in a store and wonder how and why. I like to think that having double trouble forces parents to keep their kids under control, and I suppose time will tell.

Most nights, Kristin likes to read to the boys claiming that studies show higher IQ scores when you read to your babies. Okay that is fine and good, but somebody needs to explain to her that Brown Bear Brown Bear What Do You See, is hardly what these kids will be tested on in the future. Fortunately I saw this problem and read the Sunday paper to them yesterday. They learned all about the Apollo 11 mission and I even used that baby voice that makes them smile!

Out and About

One thing I will say about having twins, you instantly achieve the status of rock star. I realized this during our recent tour through the midwest, but the swagger faded fast. The first few days I felt like Axl Rose, and by the weeks end I fully understood that I was simply driving the bus. I didn't have it quite as bad as my poor wife, Kristin, who felt like the glorified milk lady. You would have thought the two little punks in the backseat saved the planet or something. And this show-and-tell game hasn't subsided now that we have settled into a routine back in Colorado.

Nothing ever happens fast, and I'm sure this new way of life is going to stick around awhile. Forget about loading and unloading, visiting any public place is always an ordeal and I don't mean that in a negative way. For instance, I was at the bank the other day and had all three tellers (female) rush from around the counter to stare and ask questions. Sure I'll play, but I'm not so sure the guy behind me cares as much about the fellas. The women could poke at the twins all day long, while a guy might check out the stuctural integrity of the stroller.

The gender issues can be pretty funny. Three times now ladies have said to me, "oh it sure is nice to see a dad who isn't afraid to take the kids out of the house." What the heck does that even mean? First off, just because I run daddy daycare doesn't mean I've joined the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants Club, or whatever the secret society is called. I mean, shouldn't you say that to the lady over yonder? I'm standing right here.

Is this true? Are we men a bunch of Homers that stay in our caves, plop the babies down in front of Sportscenter, scratching ourselves while wondering what happened to all the Pabst Blue Ribbon? Or maybe we do like to leave our caves for hunting and other important reasons. Could it be, that ladies pack a diaper bag and bottle of wine before calling a few close friends, every time they run out of yarn? Hmmmm. I think we had better leave this one alone. Lets move on to gender issues behind the wheel!