Below is a handy reference guide to the current on-demand of shows to watch ad nauseam. For adult clarification and understanding, the house of mouse offerings are categorized according to typical high school stereotypes*. Continue reading →
It started out with the belief that silence was scary. This was before my sons could talk.
Inevitably, the room falls silent as the clattering of toys and chattering of toddlers ceases. The hush of doom blankets the room in a thick embrace – just long enough for a parent to run screeching toward the room containing a ticking time bomb. Suddenly a large CRASH/BANG breaks the silent tension. Followed quickly by a combination of maniacal laughter and banshee screams.
Have you heard the news? Thirteen years after the original won an Academy Award for Best Animated Picture, the sequel to Finding Nemo is hitting the big screens (due out 2016).
Given the theatrics of the 2003 elementary age clownfish, one can only assume poor Marlon has one hell of a rebellious teenage fish. Or maybe Nemo is now a father of his own accord and karma is rearing its ugly head. “Come find me now, funny fish!” Continue reading →
That’s a good thing, considering our days pretty much revolve around it. Since they were wee little two-pound tots living in a plastic box, we’ve focused on food. The first few NICU days focused on whetting their appetites as doctors dripped 2mL (a single ounce is 30mL) into their pea-size tummies.
Then our nurses informed us that one of the first big challenges we’d face was determining how well the muppets would be able to handle processing food. Typically at 27 weeks, tykes prefer to just use the easier umbilical cord route – intestinal digestion requires an awful lot of unnecessary calorie burning. As we’d so traumatically (and literally) cut off that option days before, the neonatologist on call blithely warned us that NEC is a not uncommon preemie issue. (NEC, or necrotizing enterocolitis, is when the intestines die – often taking the attached baby with them.)
Search and Destroy didn’t get NEC. They progressively tolerated higher and higher amounts of milk – never experiencing the step backward we were constantly warned about. Then we learned how to drink from a bottle. Granted, drinking from the bottle wasn’t so much the issue as breathing in conjunction with said bottle. That took a bit of practice, but by discharge Destroy had earned himself the nickname “Alarm Clock” for his high pitched screams should any nurse (or delinquent parent) be late with an every-three-hour feeding.
These past few days, both of my little men have been inhaling their big-boy solid foods. Breakfast consists of oatmeal (also a fabulous facial and hair care enhancer, a factoid the muppets wholeheartedly embrace). Then after nap time, the vegetable of the week is served as lunch. Carrots were our first endeavor; today we graduated to peas.
The carrots were a bright orange mush, but otherwise smelled like carrots. The peas are, well, pea green. Add in the gruel-like consistency, and they rather resembled something I’d expect to see extruding from the opposite end of my children. (In fact, I’m not sure I haven’t…)
Jon and I wrinkled our noses in disgust as soon as each 1.5 ounce jar. “Oh, they are not going to like these,” we agreed.
Turns out, they’re currently into food. Although we had a similar cause for concern when the foreign flavor crossed their lips, the moment quickly passed and the green goop was quickly gobbled up. Thankfully, this stuff doesn’t stain. “No doctor, they’re not feeling ill at all. Just a pea-bit fashion statement…” However, I cannot yet vouch for pea spit-up. I assume an uninformed spectator will very quickly be on the phone with an exorcist while keeping a keen eye to see if either muppet noggin begins revolving in 360 degree rotations.
Their love of food is showing. Especially on Destroy. Jon and I decided to venture forth for a family breakfast this morning. After settling into a booth for four – muppets remain in their carseats – our waitress arrived to coo at our darling children (and allegedly take our order).
“Twins?” she exclaimed. I smiled and nodded. “A boy and a girl?” she smiled at us. No, two boys I assured her. She was not phased by the correction and plunged right ahead with the interrogation. “Are you breast feeding?” I am not, but I would like some chocolate pancakes.
“Oh that’s good,” she sighed with relief. “I was thinking your little girl here was taking all the milk!” she laughed at Destroy. So what I hear you saying is that my son looks like a girl and is fat?
Jon has repeatedly suggested that perhaps Destroy’s eyelashes, with their perpetual appearance of heavy mascara, cause people to assume femininity. I disagree. Everyone knows ALL the muppets have big round eyes and long luxurious lashes.