Archive for September, 2009

So I occasionally read the blog: MyLifeWithTwins.com written by a regular dude named Sean Parsons, and I normally laugh pretty hard. The guy who writes it is frickin’ hilarious and seems like the kind of guy I would get in trouble with if we were allowed to drink together on occasion.

Well, I saw the words “FANTASY FOOTBALL” on his blog this morning and nearly pooped. AND if I were a TWIN of his my poop would have helped him in his fantasy football draft!

Read the following blog and have a giggle: Baby Pooping My Way To Fantasy Football Glory.

Remind me to keep this guys sense of humor in a few months when my wife’s vag opens up like the red sea and delivers my two new kiddos complete with prison snitch beanie and ceramic coffee mug filled with pencils for sale.

Sean Parsons deserves new nicknames every time you see him in person. Today’s submission?

Parsnip McPoofinger.

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Yea yea yea, I forgot to tell you about the HTN twitter account name. I’m an idiot.

Our Twitter account is http://twitter.com/havingtwinsnow

At any given time, myself, Julie or our 20 month old son could be spouting awesomeness, although I can pretty much assure you it’ll be me most of the time. Julie has only gone so far as to join Facebook to play bejeweled.

She loves that damn game.

TWEET AWAY TWEETERS.

Joel asked about what to do if Julie, who is allergic to bees, gets stung while pregnant. I’ve done some research and summarized everything you need to know about bee stings, wich the exception of how to avoid them, because even I don’t know that.

Read more here: http://www.thecompounder.com/answers-a-ideas/larrys-blog/september-2009/2009/09/21/18-bee-stings-pregnant-moms-a-the-rest-of-us

I dragged my feet on signing up for a HTN Twitter account. I seeeeriously dragged my feet. I don’t really have an excuse, but I’m now spending the majority of my time before bed finding other people to call upon once the twinvasion happens. And “holy macadamia nut farmers” there are a ton of people out there on twitter who talk about twins.

I’m not talking about the people who talk about celebrities and their twins, who are automatically better than your twins or mine, I’m talking about real frickin’ people twinttering! TWINTTERING! ZING!

One such example is today’s Hell Yeah Internet discovery: http://www.dadsguidetotwins.com/

I found the site through a tweet mentioning twins and I’ve scoured this guys pages. One such page that is just BALLS ON exactly what I needed is: http://www.dadsguidetotwins.com/how-to-measure-the-mounds-of-twin-advice/

This is a guide to sifting through all of the advice people throw at you about having twins. It might not be NEW information, but it’s concise, and I NEED CONCISE RIGHT NOW PEOPLES!

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Not really.

When we initially found out we were having twins, I said to my wife: “As long as it isn’t two girls, we’ll be ok.”

I didn’t mean that in a derogatory way, or that women are difficult (OF COURSE THEY AREN’T), or that I don’t like little princesses. I meant it in a way that only I can explain using my hands.

So imagine me using my hands to describe to you my feelings on two girls vs. two boys or one of each.

If I already have one boy, and then have two girls, how can I properly devote all of my sappy princess-talk to two girls? I need one little lady to be my princess, my little fairy queen, my “Daddy will buy you a pony, of course” little woman. I am completely okay with being a pushover, but I think I would be less successful as that pushover if I had to spread it out between two little princesses.

Two boys? MORE DIRT! I love my little dude right now because he gets back up every time and keeps moving. I love the little boy mentality of “Try it three times: Once to try it, twice to see if that really just happened, and then third to solidify that _____ will happen and the second time wasn’t just a fluke.”

Two more boys would make my house a house of scents. Not a house of sense or cents, but scents.

We would revel in our filth and bark and passing cars.

We would burp good night to each other.

We would pee outside in a row and tag our Luxembourg surname onto the neighbors fence.

We would break things and pound our chests in glory.

We would torment our fair mother with bowel movements so vile, high fives and chest bumps would reward them.

We would sing the songs of vikings as we hoist our meats above our heads prior to ingestion.

We would pile our socks in the driveway and set them ablaze, as wearing new socks is the reward of the ancients.

We would dance by the moonlight in our boxer shorts singing “Bear down Chicago Bears.”

We would get tattoos of each of us getting tattoos only because the story would be hilarious to tell at parties.

We would growl at passersby for sport.

We would be men. Men doing manly man-sport. ARRRGH!

Buuuuut, what about one of each?

THAT IS THE PERFECT SCENARIO in my opinion. One more boy to join in our above-mentioned festivities, one girl to keep mommy happy.

So what is the deal with the babies up inside the vajayjay of my fair Julie?

ONE

OF

EACH

We saw the penis yesterday.

LET THE CELEBRATING BEGIN!

Wooooooooooooooo hooooooooooooooooooooo!

photo credit: acme

PARTY HATS!