I’m fairly certain Brianna said her first word today.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. She’s not even five months old, right? Well that’s what I thought too. But now that I’ve heard her say it a few times, I’m pretty sure she said her first word. In fact, I’m positive. What’s the word, you ask?

Onomatopoeia

Now, I know that sounds like a pretty big word for a girl to utter for her first word ever spoken but she’s said it a few times already today and it’s definitely a word. Usually, it’s in the middle of babbling something and then she’ll hit me with it. The pronouciation is not perfect but it sounds something like this…

AAAAAA-NAAAAA-MAAAAA-NAAAAA-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-AAAAAAA

See?! Tell me that’s not Onomatopoeia.

Besides, I read in one of the few many baby magazines we get here at home that Daddies tend to use bigger words around their babies than Mommies do.

So it’s obvious that the plethora of multi-syllabic morphemes that eminate from my oral cavity circadianly must have positively contributed to the stratospheric level of percipience demonstrated by my female offspring.

So, yeah, my girl said her first word.

Onomatopoeia.

Dear Community Members,

Please ignore the loud shrieks eminating from my residence. Contrary to what it sounds like, I am not torturing my daughter in any way. In fact, if you happen to call Child Protective Services, please have them come and visit me. Perhaps they’ll have some insight into how such a loud sound can come from such a little body. But have them bring earplugs. I don’t need any lawsuits.

Sincerely,

A Deaf Daddy.

P.S. Make sure they knock loud.

As part of our bedtime routine, the babies have their last breastfeeding session prior to getting into their pjs. Usually, they don’t get quite enough from the breast so we supplement with a bottle. This bottle time is always with the lights low and soft lullaby music playing in the background.

Last night, Bri threw us for a loop. She got all she needed from the breast - no need for a supplemental bottle. So, I changed her into her pjs and calmly put her to bed with the soft music playing in the background.

It soon became apparent that Bri was not going to go to sleep. Her new favorite sound is the high-pitched squeal. She was practicing this sound with gusto last night. At first we thought she’d get tired and go to sleep. After about five minutes of squealing, Andrea says to me, “You don’t think she expected to be fed her bottle do you?” That’s right, we messed with the routine. (I know, I know. What were we thinking?)

So I went back in and picked her up. Instead of feeding her, I held her in the feeding position while sitting in the glider chair in their room. I gently rocked her as she brought her thumb to her mouth. In the dark I could see she was starting to calm down. Her eyes began to droop. It was at this time I realized the song that was playing in the background.

It was “Rockaby baby”.

How Norman Rockwell is that?

Every morning I tiptoe into the babies room around 6:30 a.m. to see who might be awake first to give them their morning feeding. Lately JT has been awake and Brianna (who is more and more like her mother every day) continues to sleep away.

I pull JT out and go about changing and feeding him. These moments of one-on-one time are few and far between and I enjoy them immensely. We’ll talk and coo and laugh and gaze at each other while JT eats. Since he’s been sleeping longer periods he’s no longer grumpy in the morning. Instead he’s full of energy and smiles. Once he’s done I still have another baby to feed so I put him back in his crib and let him sleep a bit longer.

I then go over to Bri’s crib. Sometimes she is stirring at this point but many times she’s not. To gently wake her I put my hand on her tiny chest and whisper, “Briaaaannnna, your Daddy is here. Good morning little girl. It’s time to wake up.” She hears the sound of my voice and while she refuses to open her eyes, she breaks out into a great big smile (Okay, so maybe she’s not so much like her mother after all). This smile melts my heart.

I scoop her up and take her into the next room to change her. While I’m changing her diaper she has still yet to open her eyes. I continue to speak to her. “Good morning, Sweetie! Are you ready for breakfast my little one?” About this time she opens her eyes. She blinks a few times and then focuses on my face. Our eyes lock and we gaze in each other eyes - me with a small bemused smile that makes my eyes twinkle and her with a sense of wonder. I smile wider and her wonder grows to something that can’t be described any other way than a pure expression of love. It is then that she breaks out into the largest, brightest smile a Daddy could ever hope for. The room absolutely glows from the radiance of this special smile that’s just for me. We spend a moment smiling and talking but it’s breakfast time so I gather her up to get ready to feed her.

She laughs as I scoop her up and I rain kisses on her chubby cheeks. She rests her head on my shoulder as I take her into our loft area where breakfast occurs. On our way out she often finds one of my fingers and wraps her tiny fingers around mine. I settle her into my lap and give her the bottle. No one else is up at this time and the early morning silence of the room combined with the loving gaze we give each other while she eats makes me feel closer to her than at any other time.

It’s just Bri and her Daddy and no one else.

What more could a guy ask for?

I am ashamed to be writing this. I’m ashamed because I always pictured myself as one of those innovative parents that would do things differently. I wouldn’t buy my children tons of toys that served no purpose but to line the pockets of some movie executive. I wouldn’t load my kid with sugarary cereal no matter how magically delicious it was. And I wouldn’t let television become a crutch in our lives.

But, I can’t deny it. It has happened. I am embarrassed to admit this but I simply can’t hide any longer. I bare my soul to you my blogging community as I ask for your support in dealing with my 3 month old baby girl’s very serious, very real addiction to television.

I know, I know you are gasping as you read this and I don’t blame you. I’m sure you are condemnimg me with all sorts of vile insults and rushing to remove me from your blogroll or your bookmarks. I don’t blame you. I don’t even have an excuse because there is no excuse for poor parenting.

All I can say is it started innocently enough. We would place Brianna in her Boppy pillow and she would crane her neck to look at the television. “How cute!” we’d exclaimed. (Oh, we just didn’t know any better!) We might as well have been saying, “Look how cute she is chasing that dragon!” And now, I know I was enabling my daughter’s addiction without even realizing it. I’d encourage her excitement every time she would turn to watch the football game with me. My wife commented that she seemed particularly interested whenever Oprah came on. We would joke with her every time she turned to look at the turned-off television, “Oh, are you looking for Oprah, Sweetie?” But no addiction, even an addiction to Oprah, is a laughing matter. I just didn’t think there was a problem.

But now? Now, things are most certainly a problem. She is always aware of where the television is. If we’re feeding her and she is turned away from that wicked black box, her eyes will strain to catch even the faintest glimpse of her crack equivalent. Why even yesterday she was being especially cranky. My wife picked her up to comfort her and she calmed down. I was about to comment on my wife’s magic touch when we noticed that Bri now had a very clear view to the television from her new vantage point. The manipulation of those closest to her had begun.

And finally, there was last night. Last night Brianna cried for long periods of time. Those of you who are frequent visitors know that she isn’t a crier. At first, I thought she was gassy or perhaps suffering from a cold. It was only later we realized that she was particularly cranky because she was missing the season premiere of Oprah.

Yes, it’s a sad, sad day in our household. But they say the first step is admitting you have a problem. Since Brianna can’t talk yet, we might have a ways to go in that department. But as soon as she starts talking we’ll work on all 12 steps.

I’m not sure where she gets this addiction from. Many addictive behaviors are inherited. Andrea is adopted so I’m assuming it’s from her side of the family.

What’s that? Ooh, Katie Couric is on. I gotta go.

JT and Bri,

I can’t believe it’s already been 3 months since your birth. That means we only have 213 more months until you go off to college.

You’re growing up so fast. It seems like you learn a new trick every day. Jonathan, I watched you in your crib yesterday spend at least five minutes trying to get your thumb into your mouth. You had a plan that was pretty good in concept. Execution, however, wasn’t so hot. First, you extended your fist as far away from your face as possible. Then, you would eject your thumb away from your fist, almost like an artist sizing up his painting from across the room. Next, you would slowly bring the thumb/fist toward your face. Almost inevitably you would bring the fist right at your eye that was looking at the fist. Being off by only a couple of inches, you would then try to drag your thumb across the bridge of your nose, over the top lip and into the awaiting mouth. The only problem you had was by the time your fist got to the mouth, the thumb had retracted back into your fist. “Hmmm” I could almost see you thinking, “Let’s try this again.” And you would. Never quite got it though, I’m afraid.

Now, you’re sitting next to me as I type this and you’re at it again. Being the great dad that I am, I first showed you how I suck my thumb (Please note that I stopped sucking my thumb years ago. I mean, who knew how mean college classmates could be about such a thing). This seemed to provide some much needed encouragement, however, because you proceeded to try again in earnest. This time, I helped keep your thumb out and you finally got it into your mouth. Another problem has arisen, however. Judging by the wrinkled nose and licking of the lips, it seems you don’t care for the taste of your thumb. Well, we can’t say we didn’t try. Now, this won’t rank up there with me teaching you how to throw a baseball, blast out of the starting blocks, telling Mommy you love her more, but it’s a start.

Brianna, your new trick is that you like to talk. All… of… the… time. Every morning when I get you out of bed for your early feeding you look at me like I’m the bestest thing in the whole world (and I’m just going to keep believing it’s so). Your smile is so huge and you begin to make excited noises that are so loud I have to hurry you out of the room to change you so you won’t wake your brother. When I lie you down to change your diaper prior to feeding, you get so excited that you kick and thrash your legs around. While it’s cute as hell, it does make it a little harder to change your diaper. Luckily, there’s been no accidents as of yet. After feeding, I put you back down for your morning nap (you’re like your mom, you definitely like to sleep in. In fact, if it was socially acceptable for your mother to wear diapers to bed, she might not ever get up). It is so fun to hear you talk yourself to sleep over the baby monitor as I feed your brother. What you’re saying, I have no clue, but it sounds fascinating. You’ll have to explain it to me some day.

Needless to say, the last 3 months have been an incredible time in our family. I must admit it’s pretty exhausting to juggle the both of you (not literally, we haven’t tried juggling you since you hit the 10 pound mark. Daddy’s back isn’t what it used to be). But at the end of the evening, after your mom and I have bathed, fed, changed and finally put you to bed we close the door to your room and we give each other a kiss and a high five (Another day without killing the kids or each other - All Right!). It is then one of us will look at the other and say, “Can you believe how lucky we are?”

No, I cannot believe it. But there it is. You are living proof at how blessed and fortunate we are. I dreamed of having you for so long, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it would be as good as this.

Happy Three Months Little Ones. I love you.

It’s 8:00 p.m. Bed time for the twins. Andrea is taking care of Jonathan while I have Brianna. We have just finished feeding them. The lights are low and, as part of the bedtime ritual, a CD of instrumental lullabies is playing softly in the background. No one speaks as we quietly wind the babies down and prepare them for sleep.

Brianna rests on my shoulder as I rub her back. She is quiet and not at all fidgety. She has just eaten 5 oz of breast milk and is feeling sleepy. She nestles her face towards my neck. In this instant we are both very relaxed. Daddy is tired too and I feel my eyes droop as the darkness and soft music bathe over us like a warm summer’s night.

“BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!!!!”

A long, loud, violent, vibrating sound ricochets off the wall. Startled out of my daze I jump about a foot out of the chair, while tightly clutching Brianna to my chest. My heart is racing and my eyes are as wide as Buckwheat’s.

Brianna breathes a sigh of relief - having just delivered the loudest belch in modern-day history. She relaxes once again and snuggles closer into my neck. She is ready to go to bed. Now, clearly awake, I put her to bed and give her a kiss goodnight.

Okay, Sweetie. I deserved that.

When we first discovered we were having twins and after I recovered from the shock of having two babies instead of the one we had been planning on, I began to form in my mind what the babies would be like when they arrived. This was particularly hard since we didn’t know the sex of either baby yet. I have an active imagination, however, and I did pretty well imagining all the baby-like qualities of the twins. I pictured cute, round faces, lots of cooing and a smile here and there. Basically, I pictured every baby on television commercials.

What I didn’t think of and couldn’t even begin to imagine was how different they would be. It never dawned on me that baby 1 and baby 2 would be so wonderfully different. In fact, in the past few weeks I have noticed a tremendous change in how I view the little ones. Instead of something to feed and change and feed again, and change again, they are little human beings that interact with me in their own special ways.

Bri will smile at me and just melt my heart. In the early morning I feed her and gaze into her eyes. We stare at each other for long periods and suddenly Bri will smile around the nipple of the bottle. It’s as if she’s mocking her old man for loving her so darn much. Her personality is so happy that when she gets cranky her facial expressions alternate between laughing and crying as if she’s doing a pretty darn good impression of the Tragedy and Comedy masks. When I put her down to take a nap after feeding her in the morning, she smiles and coos at me and we have little conversations that don’t mean anything, but really mean everything. She also has her mother’s determination. She has not been that great at breast feeding but seems to be trying really hard at it. Now, that hard work is paying off and lately she has been feeding like a barracuda (I’m so glad I don’t have to know what that feels like). The amazing this is that nothing seems to bother this little girl. I get the feeling she could be bitten by a dog and be excited about getting to touch the dog. Bri is a sweet, sweet baby. There’s just no other way to describe her.

Jonathan, on the other hand, is completely different than his sister. From the beginning he has cried more and when he first started communicating, all he did was grumble. He is very cuddly and loves to be held. When I come home from work and see him for the first time, I’m greeted with smiles and he seems to melt into me as I pick him up for a long overdue hug. He knows the sound of my voice and will follow me across the room. When we make eye contact, I’ll smile and he smiles right back. Recently, he picked up a new trick. Unknowingly, as I over-emoted in front of him while playing, I was raising and lowering my eyebrows at a quick rate. Suddenly, he got a look of deep concentration on his face and then, in a quick moment, his eyebrows darted up and then down. He looked at me, I looked at him and we both broke into smiles. At night, Jonathan is a handful. He continues to wake up at night sounding congested. I continue to do all I can to help the little guy and hopefully we’ll get this thing figured out soon. He loves to sleep on my belly and it’s those times that I feel so very close to the little guy. But I can’t let him get used to sleeping on me every night so I try to limit it. If I could, I’d have him sleep on my belly every night.

How lucky am I? Yes, I panicked a little when I found out we were having twins, but I can’t imagine my life any other way. These two little ones are my children. My daughter. My son. How very strange and how very wonderful do those words sound. And the best part? If the first 3 months have been this great, I can only imagine what the future will bring.

First the psychiatrist treated the boy - the pessimist. Trying to brighten his outlook, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with brand-new toys. But instead of yelping with delight, the little boy burst into tears. “What’s the matter” the psychiatrist asked, baffled. “Don’t you want to play with any of the toys” “Yes,” the little boy bawled, “but if I did I’d only break them.”

Next the psychiatrist treated the girl - the optimist. Trying to dampen her outlook, the psychiatrist took her to a room piled to the ceiling with horse manure. But instead of wrinkling her nose in disgust, the optimist emitted just the yelp of delight the psychiatrist had been hoping to hear from her brother, the pessimist. Then she clambered to the top of the pile, dropped to her knees, and began gleefully digging out scoop after scoop with her bare hands. “What do you think you’re doing” the psychiatrist asked, just as baffled by the optimist as he had been by the pessimist. “With all this manure,” the little girl replied, beaming, “there must be a pony in here somewhere!”

__________________________________________________

Every time I spend time with my daughter Brianna, I’m reminded of this joke. While I’m not quite ready to brand JT a pessimist (although he sure can be grumpy), Brianna, in her 11 short weeks on this earth has shown that she is one happy baby. Since she has begun to smile over the past few weeks, the girl smiles all of the time. She smiles while getting her diaper changed, she smiles while taking a bath, she smiles while feeding (which isn’t good because it’s darn near impossible to suck on a bottle and smile at the same time), and I have even seen her smile in her sleep. Her smiles melt my heart and we love to engage in smile play where she coos and smiles while I talk and smile right back. I love that time with her. It’s moments like those that I feel like we’re really connecting.

So, Brianna, keep smiling that adorable smile baby girl. It looks good on you.

However, I do have some bad news.

Sorry, but you’re not getting a pony.