Let Me Tell You About Baby-Poopies

Yes, I've counted eight distinct types now, although the variety has pretty much limited itself at this point to three assortments: the Mustard type, the Gravel type, and what I like to call the "Grastard" type, which conveniently combines the smell and colors of the Mustard type with the consistency and stick-to-skin quality of the Gravel type.

Honestly, the things I blog about....

As we approach the twins' one-month birthday (for which we have absolutely nothing of note planned, as Debby and I both find ourselves totally and seemingly irrevocably exhausted, as I will mention shortly), the twins are happy, messy, and poopy, and my wife and I are totally and seemingly irrevocably exhausted (see, told you I would mention it soon). Reading for the joy of it is a thing of the past; spontaneous trips for coffee are all canceled, and there's not even time for Muppet Show reruns... it's all babiness these days. I get up in the morning and head to Georgia Tech. I come home, have a quick dinner with Debby, and let her go to sleep, while I watch the kids until the wee hours of the morning (while the boys proceed to wee over just about everything). Then she takes over, I grab what sleep is available, and the process repeats. I don't know if I've ever been so tired, and given that I used to work for the Schwan's Food Company, that's really saying something.

I'm not whining, mind you... I've been asked by a few people to get off my butt and start blogging again, and it's just the first thing on my mind.

The babies themselves are definitely getting cuter and fatter. That's a good thing; babies are supposed to be fat. Even I was fat as a baby - one might be unkind and call me formerly obese. My belly stuck out a good foot or three from the rest of my body, I'm sure. Kristopher, the smaller of the twins, came out tiny and has filled out to the prototypical chubby-cheeked cherub. Benjamin, the larger of the twins, came out bigger and has grown more. Sometimes as he sits in my lap and seems to imperiously order his food, I can't help but be reminded of Jabba the Hutt (and Adult-Benjamin-reading-this-many-years-from-now, I sincerely hope you got that reference, and if you did, please now accept my apology for it).

Kristopher remains the quiet curious type, while Benjamin is just in love with the sound of his voice. This can get awkward for Kristopher, as I never seem to know when he's hungry, hot, cold, tired, awake, tired of tummy time, sick of me telling him "NOM-NOM-NOM," or ready to attempt aimed projectile defecation targeting my Kenny Chesney poster. As for Benjamin, it can get even more awkward, as he likes to make noise all the time, including when he's trying to poop (he just sounds constipated), when he's trying to eat (which makes it difficult for him to swallow), and when he's trying to sleep (which leaves all involved parties very, very confused).

Happily, it looks like their Halloween costumes should make it here on time for the big day on Sunday, so we'll have some really cute pictures then.

And for those who follow such things, so far my professors approve of my self-monitoring theory, and nobody has been able to accurately ascertain what is wrong with that picture of a hospital trash can that I posted last week. Anybody else want to give it a shot?