July 6, 2015
My wife and I took several baby classes before Arthur and Charles arrived. One of them was called Happiest Baby on the Block. It had some good info to impart but one thing stood out from the class we attended. The woman teaching told all of us in a very serious tone, “It takes two adults to take care of one baby.” My wife raised her hand and said that we were having twins. Clearly thrown, the woman gave a weak and somewhat panicked smile and told us she had some valuable information for us she’d cover toward the end of class.
Class ended without covering anything about twins and she hurriedly packed up and left class like she had just knocked over a convenience store. That’s when my wife and I realized that we were screwed. We were two adults short of the required amount needed to take care of our children.
It’s since occurred to me that the name of the class, “Happiest Baby on The Block” is a pretty limiting statement. Obviously they were setting the bar low because a block isn’t that big. Happiest Baby in Town? Happiest Baby in Your Zip Code? Now, those would have been lofty goals.
There aren’t a lot of babies on my block. Just one actually. An adorable 13 week old baby girl named Marlo who lives right across the street. And you know what? She’s seems a LOT happier than my sons. If I find out Marlo’s Mom didn’t take the Happiest Baby on The Block class I’m asking for a refund.
The truth is it doesn’t take two adults to take care on one baby in general. It just takes two to handle them when they’re having total meltdowns which for my sons takes place regularly at 3pm and 7pm every day. That’s when we could really use two other adults to hand them to so we could run away. I really only have to experience these ultimate hissy fits on weekends thanks to going to work Monday through Friday, but from what I endure on the weekends, I’ve become a shell of a human being and although my wife seems to be maintaining a great attitude, I fear she’s just repressing her anger until years from now she smothers me to death with a pillow in my sleep. Actually I’m not sure whether it’s a fear or a hope.
Two times a day these kids are the furthest things possible from the happiest babies on the block. If you look outside the windows at the neighborhood shortly before 3pm or 7pm, you’ll see people shutting their windows or hurrying inside as if there’s about to be a gun fight in the Old West. Their screams are loud, jarring, disconcerting and disrupt the quiet environment of our street. Whatever you do to soothe these little bastards, it’s going to take an hour before they become cute again. Not that you can appreciate that cuteness because having just held and placated a shrieking baby for 60 minutes drains you to the point where you collapse on the couch and turn the TV on to unwind in front of The Expendables 2. Even the dog has aged. Seeing an energetic Golden Retriever reduced to constantly dozing on his dog bed like a tired 80 pound zombie like lump, shows me the evil power the twins posses.
Even if they make a remarkable comeback in the coming weeks I don’t think they’re going to win the Happiest Baby on The Block Title. I’m setting my sights on Happiest Toddler. I’m wondering why we didn’t look for a Happiest Parent on the Block Class.
Least Favorite Child Results
July 2 – Least Favorite goes to Charles. We could have all had a lovely morning sleeping in, but someone failed to suck it up and sleep an extra hour with a soiled diaper. I understand it’s uncomfortable but I also know I have lied in bed plenty of times with the urge to pee, but figured I could hold it for two more snoozes. Posting the photo below is my payback.
July 3 – Least Favorite was Arthur. Again, he brings a surly attitude to the table every day. Have you ever experienced changing a diaper on someone giving you a dirty look? It’s off putting.
July 4 – Least Favorite is Arthur. My wife wanted to celebrate the birth of our country by taking a trip to the mall. It is a very American thing to do. She thought it would be a good trial run for the future. It was actually a good experience. We even enjoyed some quality time at the food court! Of course at 3pm, Arthur knew it was meltdown time which left me holding a hysterical baby in the middle of a Target while my wife used the Rest Room. So, Arthur kind of made me look like a horrible father in front of the mall crowd.
(Me at the Food Court)
July 5 – Least Favorite in a breeze was Arthur. Meltdowns and spit ups. He’s got a way of silently spitting up on you just when you’ve removed a burp cloth. You think he’s done. You put the burp cloth down and then look back up at Arthur who’s ruining for favorite Patriots T-Shirt.
Total Days as Least Favorite Child
Arthur – 17 Days
Charles – 9 Days