Just Noodlin'

Here Comes Spring

2009-03-15T18:31:00.013-04:00

The great thing about the first day of spring in our hemisphere is that it’s also Janne’s birthday. We’re less than a week away from it, and it’s been a busy winter. The world’s economy has fallen through the floor, but that was less of an event for our family, since our personal financial situation has been teetering on that same precipice for a number of years now.
The world’s just catching up to our family, it seems.
Since our first Christmas with a tree since the twins were born, Liam and
Morgan had a couple of near-bouts of pneumonia. They're pictured here at home a few weeks ago in the midst of a nasty flu virus.

Also, Janne and I have had even busier schedules at work, and there’ve been no real opportunities to take the kind of pictures worth sharing, so the blog fell silent - until today.
Maybe it’s no coincidence that we’re welcoming the end to a lousy winter and I’m returning to posting something here. The occasion which prompted pulling out the camera was a trip to see Steve and Cheryl in Whitby yesterday. They're about 160-170 kms from our door in Brantford. As you might imagine, that kind of trek makes for quite an undertaking with three-year-old twins, so it doesn't happen often enough.
Cheryl and Steve have been friends with Janne for almost twice as long as Janne’s known me. However, Steve and Cheryl and I hit it off almost immediately upon meeting more than ten years ago, and although we don’t get to see each other very often, we do our best to celebrate milestones together, even if those milestones are occasionally not celebrated on the actual date of their having taken place. Having said that, we haven’t seen each other in close to two years, and it’s been even longer since we’ve seen their kids.
Cheryl may be the most conscientious entertainer/hostess I’ve ever known.
From the moment we arrive – every time we visit – she keeps herself busy putting out finger food, supplying drinks, getting a meal together and then serving it, and all the while conversing as if you’ve got her undivided attention AND making sure their two girls, Jocelyn (7) and Elia (3) are following the house rules. As a guy with four jobs, I’m just a little envious of her ability to multi-task that efficiently.
Speaking of the finger foods, I think Liam was a little more interested in his reflection in the glass coffee table -

although he did manage to devour almost all of the “circle crackers”, as we call them around here.
Janne and I managed to “let go” a little bit, too. While home, Liam and Morgan are restricted by baby gates at both the tops and bottoms of staircases, as well as keeping them out of the ceramic-tiled foyer and many potential hazards of the kitchen. Steve and Cheryl have taken the baby gates down in their house, partly because they have Jocelyn to help watch over Elia, and it seems to be working out quite well. So, Janne and I sat back and watched Liam and Morgan negotitiate the stairs up and down to the playroom – many times...and there were a lot of things to do, including many movies to watch, in the playroom.

At home, Liam and Morgan like to do the stairs themselves without assistance, but they know we always prefer to be right beside them. They did just fine at Steve and Cheryl's.
We were expecting Dave and Leslie with their two boys, Connor and Cole, but Cole was a little under the weather, so Dave kept him home. Leslie brought Connor, and although he and Jocelyn were a little bored with the 3-year-olds’ level of play, they at least had a bit of a chance to hang out together.

For me, there was one element of the day which really made me miss my friends in Nova Scotia. The fact that Leslie, Cheryl and Janne – although only on rare occasions – still get to visit with each other and bring their families, laugh, tell stories and in general just happily share a space together – drives home the fact that the friends I made and grew up with over the first 40 years of my life are nowhere close, and I cannot do the same.
Don’t get me wrong, Steve’s great, and the people I’ve made friends with here are great people, or I obviously wouldn’t have been attracted to become friends with them...but to be able to have Liam and Morgan run around in the homes of people who’ve known me since I began school would be very satisfying to my occasionally weary soul. I feel my lifelong friends may not be aware that I think of them this way, because I left home – so maybe they feel they weren’t important enough for me to have tried to stick around Halifax and find a job and ‘survive’ there, but that’s not true. After the radio industry (or maybe certain people in it) was done with me in Halifax, there was simply no sticking around to be done. And, let’s face it, had I stayed? Janne? Liam and Morgan? Hello? I was meant to come here.
Anyway, I’m glad Janne still has the chance to hang with lifelong friends in her life. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to stay friends for life with Janne, and people like Cheryl and Leslie would no doubt echo that sentiment.
It was fun to watch how Elia reacted to sharing her stuff with a couple of kids very close to her age.

Having spent many hours explaining to twins how important it is to share (only partly because we can’t afford two of everything, and wouldn’t have room to keep most of it anyway), and knowing that Elia doesn’t have to worry about that on a daily basis because Jocelyn wouldn’t be the least bit interested in playing with the same things, being four years older, these pictures really amused me.

It shows Morgan waiting for a turn to play with one of Elia’s toys and eventually giving up.

The funny part to me is that – if it were Liam playing with the toy (it’s a water-filled gadget on which you push a button to try to propel little plastic balls into a hippo’s mouth – kinda cute), Morgan would simply rip it out of his hands and run with it. Liam would cry, and I’d be back in the middle of a conversation about sharing, explaining to Liam to let Morgan have a turn occasionally, and to Morgan that taking the toy from Liam is not the ideal way to initiate the sharing process.
However, something must be getting through to Morgan, because she was polite enough to wait until Elia was bored with it, and then took her turn with it.

Another of my favourite moments of the day was witnessing Janne being relaxed enough to not be policing the children, but simply engaging them – like here when she felt Liam needed some tickling.

Too often, we don’t get a chance to take advantage of moments like these, and I know Liam appreciated it.
All in all, a great day with good friends.
Wish everyone lived closer, though.
Going to have to get to work on that teleportation room.

From Our Home To Yours

2008-12-25T17:53:00.006-05:00

I have very few words today.
Janne and I are so thankful - every day of the year, and not just at Christmas - for this one gift of two incredible people with whom we get to share our world. They bless us with their presence, and their unconditional love. A work colleague of mine recently said to me that they weren't sure they wanted to have kids - because they didn't want to be 'one of those people' who loses their identity, and ends up talking incessantly about their children - and therefore have no world outside of them. My suggestion, then, if it were my business to say so, would be to not have children, because you might be missing the point. You might be thinking too selfishly to understand what bringing children into the world is all about, and therefore maybe you don't deserve the privilege.
Every day, I'm being shown a brilliantly shining moment by my children which I feel I don't deserve. Every day, they make me proud to be their father. I have done nothing in my life to deserve the joy I get from them. Yet, every day, they give me more.

Merry Christmas to you.
My hope is that - someday soon - everyone everywhere in the world will understand that there would be peace and joy forever if we only paid just a little more time listening to what our children are trying to tell us, instead of filling their minds with all our own flawed and failed plans.

I wish you all a clearly lighted path through 2009.

Their First Santa Parade

2008-12-20T18:32:00.007-05:00

On the second Saturday night of December, in a community not far from where we live known as St. George, the townsfolk gather to watch a parade of lights put on by the men and women of their local Fire, Police and EMT departments. Because we knew it was going to be short, and the best fit for the attention span of two three-year-olds wrapped in their snowsuits in minus 9 temperatures, it was our overwhelming choice for their first exposure to the phenomenon known as The Santa Claus Parade. Janne works with one of the firemen, and Jamie had told her about the added bonus of everyone gathering at the Fire Hall immediately after the parade to line up and sit on Santa's knee. The community communes, as it should - and the idea of it felt good to us. I grew up in a small community outside of a medium-sized city, and I appreciate what both of them have to offer - but my heart is still in the small town.
Janne made sure we had everything we could possibly need on our short journey for the twins, to the point where we brought along their snowsuits, rather than have them sit sweating in the car on the drive there, and we then appended their wardrobe once it was time to get out of the car and stand by the side of the road to wait for the action. You haven't lived until you've re-dressed a three-year-old in the back seat of a car on the side of the road. Seriously. You must meet my wife someday.
In any case, Morgan and Liam were bundled all Charlie Brown-like, and the parade came by, and the lights were nice, and the kids enjoyed it, and Santa Claus waved right at them (because the crowd along the side of the road was only one person deep - single file along the entire route - pretty well ideal for our purposes).
Two fun moments for me, the first of which wasn't supposed to be enjoyed quite the way I was enjoying it: Picture a woman - mid-50s - on a flatbed-type float, wearing a bad platinum wig, winter coat, black tights, and heels, standing next to a 'jail cell', the whole scene being displayed behind and towed by a Crimestoppers vehicle. Add to this a microphone in her hand, and her efforts to dance around while being jostled along the stop/start parade route, and the strains of the karaoke version of Feliz Navidad filling the air. Then, on cue, to the tune of the Jose Feliciano classic, as she's pointing to the 'prisoner' in the cage, she sings, "Police got his car. Police got his car."

I managed to summon enough decorum to laugh only on the inside, but it was beautiful. A small town moment like I had not experienced in many years.

The second moment was when we were unloading the twins at the fire hall. Anyone with little ones understands that "getting out of the car" is more along the lines of a full scale "disembarkment" at the best of times. I was on the 'road' side of the car, to remove Liam from his seat, while Janne was delivering Morgan from her restrains on the 'sidewalk' side of the car. As I lifted Liam up above my shoulder height, and turned him toward the street so I could close the door, SANTA went by! He was arriving at the fire hall to go inside and sit with all the children. For that brief moment, Liam had an exclusive-no-other-kids-around-one-on-one exchange with the Big Man, who waved and said hello to Liam, while Liam beamed up toward him. Great looking Santa, making direct eye contact, smiling and laughing heartily. At that point, Liam could have gotten back in his carseat and gone home, perfectly satisfied with the night's turn of events.
However, we went inside to see Jamie, and thank him for the heads-up about the parade, and see if our kidlings were 'ready' for a personal visit with the man in the red suit. As it turned out, neither of them would be interested in meeting a stranger and leaving Mommy's or Daddy's side once we had entered the very crowded fire hall.
However, once Jamie saw us, he came over to say hello, and then uttered the words, "You guys gonna get some hot chocolate?" Both Liam and Morgan came back to life. I stayed in the 'Santa line' with them 'just in case' while Janne went to hunt and gather some warm chocolatey goodness. She returned five minutes later, disappointed, saying, "They ran out on the person in line just in front of me."
I immediately suggested that we forego the Santa line for a trip to Tim's to get some hot chocolate, since the twins seemed more excited about that option - and off we went.
So - to recap -
First Santa Parade? Big hit.
First Taste Of Hot Chocolate? Even bigger hit, as pictured here.
(That's right, they had never had hot chocolate before. What terrible parents we are, depriving them of all that sugar for three whole years.)
Anyway (not exclusively for Ma Horton, but most certainly with her in my thoughts), here are the after-parade hot chocolate pics...and one Janne took while Daddy waited with Liam and Morgan alongside the parade route.
Happily Sipping Away
The Classic Chocolate Moustache
Oh - forgot to mention - about two dozen people walked past us during the parade handing out candy cane after candy cane after candy cane to us - and everyone - who stuck their hand out. ExTREMEly generous with the candy canes in St. George, just in case you're into that - something to keep in mind for your future parade-viewing plans. And no, their Grinchy parents didn't let their twins eat any candy canes. Lots of time ahead of us to start those bad habits.
This year's Christmas card photo shoot coming soon...

Preparations Are Underway...

2008-12-08T17:23:00.007-05:00

Don't know if you've heard about this, but apparently Santa Claus is coming to town. Something he does every year, I'm told. This year, there are two three-year-olds who have become intensely aware of this tradition. This is the first year in four that John and Janne will have a tree. This is the first year EVER that either Janne or John will give shelter to a tree other than one of the cut-down REAL variety. In years past, we have dragged home a Douglas Fir (incredibly overpriced) from the grocery store parking lot five minutes away from our last home. We have gone to tree farms and 'cut our own'. When time-strapped, we have purchased them from schmancy 'garden centres'...but neither of us have ever had a - dare I say it - 'artificial' tree. So, this is a 'first tree' for Liam and Morgan, a 'first' for Janne and myself.
Our daycare provider had a pyjama party for all of her charges this past Saturday evening, partly to give their parents a night to do Christmas shopping, or decorating, or just an evening out for dinner. We chose to use our 'night off" to surprise the kids with the tree. The most amusing part was deciding what was twin-safe and what wasn't from among the decorations. For instance, Janne has a metal tube full of 'icicles' (not to be confused with flimsy old tinsel) - which are essentially solid flat metal strands, about six or seven inches long, which are twisted in a spiral, and reflect light rather nicely when they are hung from the tree. This year, however, Janne referred to them as "sharp, pointy things", and they will remain in their packing tube, quite possible for a couple of more years.
Janne and I are also from the same school of tree-trimming. Although we won't be using tinsel this year, the one rule we both follow is "You don't throw tinsel. You place it on the tree." Yes, it takes longer, but it looks much better. Obsessive Compulsives make good partners, in case you were wondering.
We were both pleasantly surprised by the look of the artificial tree. Full to the point of being lush when all branches were turned out and arranged, it was easy to stop decorating and be happy with as much as we had done - because we're always late, and had to stop to go get the kids from their pyjama party. (The O.C. habit of constantly stopping to fix and straighten things takes up a lot of one's "free time", it seems.)
Morgan and Liam enjoyed - and continue to enjoy - the finished product, and have kept their hands off to this point.
The first picture here is my tribute to the now-defunct talking Christmas tree from Mic Mac Mall in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia called "Woody". The very odd marketing creation actually had a "Save Woody" Facebook group for a while. (Go ahead and take the chance of searching "Save Woody" and hope that you don't get a pop-up ad for something manufactured by Lilly or Pfizer to see a picture of the former Talking Christmas Tree on Facebook.) My version below only has arms in the first pic, then somehow develops an awkwardly-placed head in the second.The New WoodyOne might call this practice "Tree Peeking" A Healthy Glow

The final pic is where we left it, and the kids seem to like it just the way it is, which is what's important - because it's time for them to start their Christmas memories - for all of us.

Celebrating Three

2008-12-01T10:13:00.006-05:00

They each have very distinct and beautiful personalities, and are the people who make my heart grow bigger by the day...especially when they say things like, "Daddy, when I get older, I'm gonna have a coffee with you"...or, "Daddy, sometimes - I just like watching you."
Imagine what you'd feel hearing something like that for the first time from one of your children - who is yet to turn three.
Well, yesterday, the little miracles we routinely refer to as Morgan and Liam finally did turn three. I only say "finally" because their birthday comes after a couple of months of their father publicly referring to them as his "three-year-old twins", which is just easier than saying "almost-three-year-old twins"...and we had an amzingly successful birthday celebration with them.
Yes, both of them 'melted down' at different points through the day, with the incredible amount of (mostly 'fun') input they were challenged to absorb, but Janne and I both stayed open to it, knowing that it was inevitable. We just continued to concentrate on making it "their day".

My friend Mike brought his family for the celebration, and my friend Shelly brought her lovely little Lucy. Mike's son, Owen, who's four, was so wonderfully well-behaved, and played so well with everyone, that we are already looking forward to when we can have them all over again. Owen's a very giving, well-mannered guy. (He can be seen in the picture above to the left of the birthday cupcakes.)
Mike's wife, Carolyn, came too. Although she had to spend most of her time looking after little Juliana, their extremely cute baby girl, she and I managed to get a word in with each other every once in a while. It was then that I re-discovered how much I enjoy her sense of humour. Carolyn and I once worked together, too, and I'm pretty sure that's where she and Mike initially met. She now has her own photography business at In Bloom Photography. (Check out her kids' pictures. Well, check out all of it, but don't miss her awesome kid pictures.)
Speaking of pictures:

Birthday cupcakes. Mommy put a big blue "L" on Liam's, and a giant red "M" on Morgan's.

Part of our day was spent at a Kid's Indoor Playground. Mike and Carolyn brought Juliana and Owen, and Shelly brought Lucy. We're all pretty gentle people, and - after about an hour or so - there seemed to be a quite noticeable influx of somewhat aggressive children, so we all gathered ourselves up and came back to our house for pizza, pop and cupcakes. Before things had gotten too out of hand, however, Morgan and Liam and the rest of our group had some fun, particularly on the Big Slide:

Special thanks to Claire, Janne's dearest friend, for bringing Marilynn, Nick and Kirsten, and for driving many hours from the other side of Toronto on side roads (because she doesn't like highways), getting lost, getting caught in whiteouts, finally getting here, and then getting lost on the way home as well. Although we like where we live, it's a rather inconvenient spot for many to visit, (the word 'boonies' is often referenced) and I know it particularly meant a lot to Janne to see all of them.

My wife and I barely have time to think on most days, and we have inhuman stress levels from outside pressures - but I was so proud of Janne yesterday. I guess I should only speak for myself, and let Janne do her own talking, but I will say this: Although the hours leading up to being 'ready' for the Big Third Birthday Event were somewhat trying for us, at the end of the day - even though she and I have been under the same roof, and heading toward the same goals for ten years now - last night, we were yet again a little closer, and appreciated each other that much more, after the birthday babies were in bed, and life had returned us to our 'normal' stress levels.

One of the more humorous (to me) moments of the day came early. Janne had bought some foam puzzles (a Tinkerbell puzzle for Morgan, and a "Cars" - the movie - puzzle for Liam), and she commissioned me to wrap them while she was making the birthday cupcakes and Rice Krispie squares late Saturday night. Well, apparently, I must have somehow made them look like floor cushions in my wrapping efforts, because when we presented them to the Morgan and Liam on Sunday morning, the following pictures showcase how they reacted to them:

However, once we explained to them that they should rip them open, joy (although somewhat out of focus here, unfortunately) followed:

I want to apologize to everyone who came to share the fun with us through the day and evening. You see, I don't think I do a very good job of communicating with anyone anymore. I am fully aware that I am very much consumed with my children, and because of that I tend to neglect some very commonly accepted social graces.
So, thank you all - for helping make Liam's and Morgan's day such fun. It is something they will talk about to us for a very long time. You are all great friends.

Here is my gift back to you, for your kindness to these people I hold most dear. It may seem like an odd gift to some, but it's how my current life makes me feel. Every day. Thank you.

Halloween '08

2008-11-02T00:46:00.007-04:00

In less than a month, Liam and Morgan turn three years old. Every day they continue to astound and entertain us with their brightness, precociousness and love of life. This Hallowe'en marked their first as trick or treaters, and the first time we will carefully and selectively introduce them to candy as well - something they have not been 'allowed' until now. If Liam's taste for candy is anything like his initial opinion of cake, however, candy won't stand a chance. Liam flatly rejected his homemade-by-Janne chocolate birthday cake (on their 2nd birthday), a shock to both his chocolate-cake-worshipping parents. He then tossed it on the floor. Turned out, a few months later, we discovered that he loves cupcakes. Talk about particular.
Anyway, some Hallowe'en costume shots for you. Both the Daytime and Nighttime celebrations for these two were fun-filled. Morgan had some issues with some of the scarier costumes when walking among them, and - having a neighbourhood full of people who did their best to qualify for some kind of 'best-decorated' award, there were a few houses where Morgan wouldn't go up the walk. All in all, they made out okay, and looked good doing it.

Hope you had a fun, safe and Happy Hallowe'en..

Autumn

2008-10-27T16:24:00.006-04:00

Titling this post with the name of the season is sadly appropriate, considering we were all in the middle of summer 2008 (August 13th) since anything was published here. More responsibility at work has led to fewer opportunities to get here, and the free time left after my work is done is far better spent actually being with the twins than writing about them.

Writing 'the twins' just now felt weird - because I never refer to them that way. I never refer to them as "The Tinks" anymore, either, because any semblance of smallness, or being smaller than others their age, has long since disappeared from either of them. Morgan is still the size of a ballerina, mind you, but Liam is a bruiser. Lots of boy traits are bubbling to the surface, and he and I drive Mom a little crazy with our antics. Actually - Morgan, Liam and I have a tendency to act like we're out of our minds when we play together, which is perfectly acceptable for them at their age. I, however, no doubt appear insane to my wife on occasion, with both the noises and faces I make when deep in the throes of play. It's quite heavenly, really.

Speaking of Morgan still being the size of a ballerina, and the whole 'Tinks' thing - there's a new Disney movie coming out about Tinkerbell, almost as if the Disney company was somehow paying really close attention to my thought processes over the last three years.

There are some really nice Fairy Princess costumes out this year for Hallowe'en, and Morgan has one. Wait, that's not true. Morgan has two fairy princess costumes - one from her daycare provider to wear during the day on Hallowe'en, and one for nighttime trick or treatin' which her Dad found - which is an 'authentic' (merchandising opportunity) Tinkerbell (did I mention there's a Disney movie coming out?) costume! Dad's no doubt more excited about that aspect of it than Morgan is, of course, considering the origin of the 'Tinks' name.
Liam will wear a train engineer (daycare provider-provided) costume through his daytime celebration of Hallowe'en, and transform into a lion at night (Dad-provided). He initially wanted to be a pumpkin, but I reminded him that he'd already done that.

There will no doubt be hilarity this Hallowe'en, and pictures will follow.

Since my last post, both Liam's and Morgan's language skills have at least doubled. Liam can tell me stories at bedtime now (he has a few of his books memorized), although he still prefers me to tell him. Morgan speaks so clearly and fluently, it never ceases to surprise me. Parroting things is certainly a skill set, but Morgan clearly knows what she's saying when she says it, and it's just fun to be here as that's happening with both of them. The everyday adventure continues.
...and they both love to sing so much, too - which is a thrill for me.

This past Canadian Thanksgiving weekend (first weekend in October, for those non-Canadians reading this), we went to a place close to our home called Brantwood Farms. Hay rides, corn mazes, pumpkin patches and apple pies abounded...and the weather was beautiful. As a matter of fact, September and the first part of October kept most of us here in Southern Ontario from complaining any further about the bad summer.

Some shots of Liam and Morgan enjoying the day...

Morgan was not a huge fan of the corn maze, but when we showed her a pumpkin-headed figure which was supposed to look like Dora The Explorer while wandering around in there and trying to find our way, she settled down a little. She doesn't like scary things, and we have no intention of thrusting any upon her just because of the pagan rituals associated of Hallowe'en.
For years, Hallowe'en has always reminded me of the loss of my mother, who died on October 25th, 1970, when I was 13. Hallowe'en, and the whole 'conjuring of spirits' crap that went along with it, was no longer something I cared to be involved with since that day. This year, however, October 25th passed without a word mentioned in our home about that sad event in my life, which is the first time in a long time that that's happened.
...and I'll be thrilled this year to spend Hallowe'en night with Tinkerbell, the fairy princess...and her lion protector.

Bubbling Up

2008-08-12T23:33:00.006-04:00

I have no time to be here, yet being here and writing crosses my mind every single day. It's where I can talk about how fascinating my children are, regardless of how boring that is to some. It's still my favourite subject.

My last post here was June 29th, and it wasn't long after that when everyone began to get ill.

We've had more than our share of bad luck this summer. Liam led the way by coming down with pneumonia. Actually, both twins and Janne were sick with different levels of infection for about a month. Liam's lungs, Morgan's ears, Janne's throat. It was actually more like five weeks for Liam, and six weeks for Janne. I had a bit of something, but managed to fight it off in a few days. No one else was quite so lucky, and we were very worried about Liam. Both twins also had conjunctivitis, and those eye drops? A nightmare to administer. Surprised that either of my children want to be around me anymore after putting them through that.

I've never had pneumonia before in my life, so it came as a shock that, at the tender age of two, my son was diagnosed with it...and it was a pretty traumatic time. Getting meds into him proved to be very difficult, too, which worried us even more ("How are we going to get him better?")...and when your usually very active, happy, carefree two year old boy looks up at you as you're holding him, just before bed, with big, dark circles around his sad eyes, and he says, "I'm sick, Daddy." Well, it's just heartache personified.

The weather has - so far - also helped make for the worst summer I've experienced in southern Ontario in my ten years here. Just terrible.

Work has kept me busier than ever, and this month - as we get ready for September and the fall ratings period in my industry, which is considered the most important one of the year - it will start to get even busier. This may be the only post for another 44 days, I don't know.

I wanted to share these pictures, though, and remind you of the simple beauty of ...bubbles.

The shots were taken on a rare sunny day, and seeing the fascination and wonder in Liam's and Morgan's eyes as they chased down the bubbles made for a great time.

My attempt at photographic art.
Pure, unadulterated joy. Amazing to watch.
Morgan launches a few, and then stands back and admires her work.

If we were all surrounded by bubbles for a couple of hours a day, maybe we'd be a little happier, and treat each other with a little more kindness. Whenever any of the crap gets me down again, I think I'd better just pull out the Super Miracle Bubbles and wand, and let my cares melt away.

...And She Cuts Hair, Too.

2008-06-29T11:00:00.006-04:00

Late addition:
The whole experience of the twins getting their first haircuts initially reminded me of this photo. I would have added it sooner, but had to take it to a photo shop to get a decent digital copy of it. Trying to take a picture of the picture just wasn't working out for me.
That's my Mom, of course, and you can see the 'home barber kit' in a box in the background.
Don't I look thrilled?...and now, back to the original post:

We don't get a lot of visitors at our new place, mostly because we live a considerable distance away from most of the people we know. Trying to set up a social schedule around Liam and Morgan also factors into it - but the price of gas, and everyone else's busy lives are as much factors in the equation as anything else. (I don't want the kids to read this someday, and think that their parents had no lives because of them, after all.)
However, once in a while all those things come together, and we have a visitor. Saturday, my boss' administrative assistant, Lynda, came to see us. Lynda's title doesn't really explain much about her, and she's much more than that. She gets referred to as Mama around our stations, because of the way she reaches out to the people on our staff, and their families.
When our twins were born, with all the trepidation that surrounded their birth, Lynda (and let's be perfectly clear, through her ...let's call it 'petitioning'... of Tom, our VP/GM) made a point of helping in any way she could. Since Janne had to be hospitalized for five weeks, and had been losing weight due to - not getting along well - with the hospital food, Lynda stepped up and got us restaurant gift certificates, so I could order food on my way home from work and bring it into Janne when I went in to see her. Lynda went around to our staff and put a basket of wonderful baby things together for us, including pink and blue baby blankets that she had made herself. (The twins still use them every night.) On the morning of the twins' birth, Lynda made sure there was a beautiful arrangement of plants and flowers for us from the stations, which had already been delivered to Janne's room when we returned from my much-tougher-than-she-looks wife's recuperation in Labour and Delivery.
...and Lynda didn't do that just for us.
She does that sort of thing for any member of our staff she feels she can help.
Last week, after having looked at the 'wings' on Liam's and Morgan's hair often enough, and wondering where we'd be able to afford to go to have their lids done, I remembered that one of Lynda's many talents is as a hairdresser - so, on Saturday morning - Lynda drove out to our end the 'the boonies', which is at least half an hour away from her home, and brought Canada Day pinwheels and books for Liam and Morgan...and then proceeded to beautify a couple of unruly mops for us.
We also had what seemed like way too little time to have a 'visit' with her - and talked about her recent trip to Scotland (of much interest to me, since my mother was born there), plus Lynda got a chance to witness how much fun it is to feed 2.5 year old twins when they conspire against you.
By the way, she did an awesome job on their hair, and - for a first-ever haircut - the twins really didn't fuss. (The woman even brings her own dropcloth, by the way. Sign of a true professional. ;-))

Thank you again, Lynda.
You're welcome here anytime, with or without your scissors.

Both twins looked down on cue and stayed still, for the most part.
You'd think they'd done it before.
She just loves to pose, this girl.
Morgan and Lynda talking things over.
Liam chattin' up the stylist.

Lynda and Liam are happy with the result. Sadly, like his father, he neglected to tip.

p.s. I had to add this last shot. The light for the windows across the back of the house kept the flash from working on this one of Morgan, but I thought it gave the picture the feeling of an album cover I remember from my youth. Well, sort of remember. It was a Beatles cover, I think. Different hairstyle, though. If I ever I find it, I'll let you know.

Sliding

2008-06-21T21:05:00.006-04:00

Thought I'd post this today, so we'd have some sun in our weekend.
Kind of a gloomy Saturday here in Southern Ontario, but these pictures were taken about a month ago in some brilliant sunshine. On this particular day, we were introducing Morgan and Liam to their new slide, which their Mommy found on an internet classified ad site. Daddy drove to Cambridge to get it, disassembled it, strapped it to the roof of the car, and then re-assembled it in our backyard.
I don't mind saying the drive was scary, worrying the whole time that the thing was going to somehow escape its tie-downs and bungee cords and fly through the windshield of whatever vehicle was behind me.
Janne had also bought a couple of toy gymnast's ribbons as well, and both Liam and Morgan really enjoyed playing with those - as well as partaking in their first backyard slide session of the season. Some great smiles and sun/shadow pictures in here.
It's always a thrill for me to see them having such a good time.

Trying to get the hang of it...
...and not bad, for his first day.
Love Morgan's smile in this one...
...so let's take a closer look at it!

...with a peek at the still-not-yet-completed neighbourhood in the background.

The gift of happy children ...and a great time in the late afternoon sun.

Being Dad

2008-06-15T10:10:00.013-04:00

I was in a rush when I woke up this morning.

I'm doing a remote for one of our stations today, right here in the development I call home. I've been doing remote broadcasts from here for the last five years, and somewhere along the way I convinced both myself and Janne that it was a good place to live, and to raise a family.
So far, so good.
But it's Sunday, and I'd rather be still in bed, waiting for the twins to wake up, to then bring them in before we go downstairs for breakfast to spend some quality time, laughing and playing on our bed. It's a weekend ritual. Instead, I have to get showered and shaved, and go to work. For me, shaving on a Sunday is almost sacreligious. However, it's not the work but the not-being-with-my-family that I mind.

I heard Morgan start to talk in her sleep, so I waited to see if she was waking, but - as she often does - she hit the button on her music box/light projector and settled back into sleep, so I decided I'd better get into the shower ASAP.
As I got prepared to get back out of the bathroom, I heard rustling, and little voices...and, as I came back into our bedroom, I saw that Janne had the twins tucked under our covers - Liam on my pillow, and Morgan on hers. Then, my wife prompted my little girl to say, "Happy Father's Day, Daddy", and Liam followed, with the same greeting. (Good coaching, Mommy!)
In the rush to get ready for work, I had let it slip my mind. Not that there's really anything wrong with a Dad forgetting about his own Father's Day - as long as that Dad never forgets to be a father.

My Daddy Day Cards. Liam's on the left, Morgan's on the right.
Mowing the lawn. It's apparently a guy thing from very early in life.

Our daycare provider said, "I don't know where she comes up with these things", but I seem to recall it from an episode of Little Bear we once watched together.

For me, being a father is a greater privilege than I ever thought it would be - and I put off being a father - somewhat instinctively, I think - for a very long time. After having had such a great father, I lived very much in fear of never living up to his example. That fear hasn't entirely gone away, but with twins who present new challenges and objectives for me every day, I have much less time to think about how I'm going to be as great a Dad as my Dad was - simply because the time dwelling on that is far better spent trying to be the best Dad I can be.
Thank you, Liam and Morgan, for allowing me the privilege of being your Dad...and thank you, Janne, for - in your own way - convincing me that I was ready for it.
And HERE'S a surprise!
I was just about to post this, when Janne got home from a couple of morning errands she needed to run before I went off to work. She summoned me out to her car to get THESE!:Hand-painted by Morgan and Liam, patio stones for our backyard!
How cool a Father's Day gift is THAT?

Panda Love

2008-06-11T16:58:00.007-04:00

Michelle, Promotions Director for our radio stations, had these Kung Fu Panda (#1 movie this week) promotional t-shirts for kids, and sweetly gave me a couple for Liam and Morgan. However, I'm going to try to 'hide' them somewhere in the house - in part because the twins love pandas, and therefore want to wear the t-shirts constantly. Also, two or three years from now, the shirts will actually fit them and will be considered 'vintage' and cool.
I'm also confident their fondness for the panda will not have faded substantially. Certainly, mine hasn't. Has yours?
And Kung Fu Panda 5 will no doubt be out by then.

However, they're pretty cute advertisers for the movie at this point,
don't you think?.

That's all I got.
Like I need more, after those pictures? Come on.
Jack Black should be calling to thank them.

Tagging Into History

2008-06-06T15:19:00.011-04:00

As you may know, my blog is not a conventional blog -
if a concept as relatively new as blogging can already be considered to fit into parameters of convention.

Having said that -
Some of my friends, who blog their thoughts - their humour - their lives - have been participating in something in which I normally wouldn't, due to it falling outside the parameters of my blogging's convention. It turns out, though, in this particular instance, that our blogging worlds have - not so much collided - but are actually spending a moment in sync.

The practice of tagging throughout the blogging world is not new, but would serve no purpose here, where I only serve to provide my children with their earliest history, and the part I play(or played) in it. I'm 51 as of June 2nd. They're two and a half as of May 3oth. Do the math. Regardless of how much time I have with them, there's no doubt in my mind that there will be things preserved in here that I either would have forgotten, or wouldn't have had the chance to impart to them.

That, Morgan and Liam, is why this blog is here.
(Just in case I've never actually told you that before you read this.)

However, the nature of the tag aligns with recent events worth highlighting.

A couple of weekends ago, we took the twins into Toronto to see their Mormor, who was just home from having some broken bones in her feet repaired for a second time. This is something she's been going through for a year now. (I may explain this a little more someday - and if I ever do, it will be some time after the story has completed its rounds through the legal process.)

As we were about to leave Mormor's that day, she returned to me a book I had lent her sometime before, which was written by - and about - a man named Richard Biggs. Richard was my Dad's Dad's Grandfather's Dad. (Recite the great-greats as you see fit.) Richard was born in 1847 in Devizes, Wiltshire. At the age of 17, he entered Trinity College in Dublin. He was also a graduate of London University, and became Head Master at Galway Grammar School. He had a tradition of a weekly talk with his students, and a series of his talks was published in Dublin in 1905, aptly titled, "A Schoolmaster's Talks With His Boys (Being Addresses By The Late Richard Biggs, M.A. LL.D.)". Many years later, my Grandfather (J.P. Biggs) was born in Galway. He and my Grandmother are the generation of my family which moved to Canada (British Columbia), where my Dad was born.

So, coincidentally, the nature of the tag, as described to me?
- Pick up the nearest book.
- Open to page 123.
- Find the 5th sentence.
- Post the next 3 sentences on your blog.
- Tag 5 more people (and don't forget to name the person who included you.)

Newsguy Bob's the person who included me, and I've already mentioned the nearest book.
However, I won't be tagging 5 more people.
Sorry.
However, if you're reading this, and you feel like taking up the cause, you can always continue the tag, and give me credit for urging you on. Just let me know if you plan on doing so in the comments. I just thought this worked out to be a great opportunity to provide just a little writing from a book the twins will eventually inherit. (...and might I just make a quick mention, you two, that sharing is important? Hmm? Morgan, Liam - are you paying attention?)

Page 123 is a chapter/address entitled, "A Rose By Any Other Name".

Fifth sentence down the page begins as follows:
"When a number of books, for instance, appear either all bearing the same pseudonym or evidently from their style proceeding from the same hand, we begin to be interested to know who it can be that wrote them, and so we find out that the Waverley Novels are Sir Walter Scott's, and so on. Again, when striking statements are made, the degree of credence we give to them must depend on whether the writer is in a position to know the truth of what he says; and this we cannot know unless we know who and what he is: the statements, e.g., of the individual who imposed himself on Sir G. Newnes as M. Louis de Rougemont, and which at first, on his authority, some of you were inclined to believe, marvellous though they were at once completely discounted when the imposition was discovered.
In a novel there is no question as to the truth of the story, all we look for is that the descriptions be correct, the characters consistently drawn and like such characters as we are familiar with in life, and that there shall be nothing impossible in the events."

It's funny to me that the first thing I noticed was rather poor sentence structure. Where sentences should have ended, they ran on, being joined together by commas and semi-colons - but this was 1905, and it was, after all, culled from a schoolmaster's lectures, so I guess I'll forgive the transcriptionist.

Anyway, there are my three sentences.
Oddly enough, due to the timing of the tag, they're the words of a relative, six generations previous to Liam and Morgan.
Their Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather.

Birthday Gifts

2008-06-04T15:28:00.008-04:00

It doesn't matter if you planned on paying off all my debts, or paying for our new house, or springing for a vacation for my family, or any number of other things I could really, really use. As much as those gifts would be greatly appreciated, I got THESE CARDS for my birthday - and they will be forever at the top of my list of birthday gifts for my 51st.
Hand-made, and expressing the artistry of my children, our daycare provider assisted the process by writing the first thing each of them said after they drew their pictures inside the cards, and included the phrases in amusing ver batum form along the bottom:
Liam went heavy on the artwork both inside and out.
Morgan took a more minimalist approach to the cover.

Morgan loves cake. It's from her mother's Danish genetics, we assume.
My son, the next-generation Rambo.
Not happy with just blowing them out - his preference?
To blow the candles a w a y.

A Very Happy Birthday to me. ;-)

Another Great Celebration

2008-06-02T15:10:00.006-04:00

These are some pictures which didn't make it to broadcast on Sunday for CHCH-TV's "Celebration" this past Sunday - where the communities of Central-West Ontario surrounding McMaster Children's Hospital (where Liam and Morgan were born) raised 5.6 MILLION dollars this year for Mac Kids.
Live broadcasts like this are always an immense undertaking, and - as much as it would have been nice to go into a little more detail about our story - I had other stories to tell which presented other parents, other children, other families - with greater challenges than Janne and I have ever had to experience.
The 'telethon' (they don't like calling it that, which is why they've re-named it Celebration) was an awesome job by everyone involved for a hospital loved by so many.
Certainly, it's loved by our family, and we have some great friends there.
If not for their amazing care, we may not have our beautiful children - our family - today.
Liam with his feeding tube. (He hated it, and pulled it out a lot, ergo the tape.)
Morgan couldn't breathe on her own.
Size comparison. Liam - to a thumb.
Morgan's thumbelina close-up.
A little twin time togetherness.
Our Guardian Angels, lead by a woman who we'll always stay in touch with, LouAnn.
Which way to look...
...which way to look...
Roy Timm, a wonderful photgrapher, took this for us for Christmas 2007.
Check him out here: http://www.roytimmphotography.com/
...but we couldn't send the posed picture out with our Christmas cards without sending this one, too.

Thank you, Mac Kids. Again.

New Trikes On Mormor's Day

2008-05-22T16:20:00.003-04:00

This post was supposed to precede my most recent one, but then Liam had his accident, and subsequently changed the order of importance of a few things.

On the Saturday before Mother's Day, we tried something very daring. We went to three different stores, one after the other, with the twins. This merely sounds easy. If only the level of difficulty in doing such a thing were about the same as the effort to type those words. However, it is ...an undertaking. But, we survived, and in the end - a gift of tricycles had been purchased, which is something that Mormor (Janne's Mom, for you new readers) had been anxious to give to Liam and Morgan for quite some time.
We then picked up the helmets to go with them at a different store, and got the grocery shopping done at yet another different location.
Liam had all but completely lost his patience by the time we'd made just a couple of selections in the grocery store, so we wisely didn't take the time to shop every aisle. He did, however, like the crackers that were being sampled, but felt that all of them should have been for him. The poor kid working the sample booth actually looked a little scared. I whisked Liam away as my little guy became more 'vocal', and before the 'sample kid' called an authority figure. The funny part - for me - came about five minutes later, after I had shared this info with Janne, who'd been tearing through another part of the gigantic grocery store with Morgan in her cart, in an effort to make the whole experience 'go faster'. Janne then decided to take Morgan to the sample booth, hoping a cracker might help keep her calm.
The booth was closed.
Unmanned.
'Sample kid' had escaped to the depths of the stockroom, no doubt to silently weep and gnash a few teeth.
At this point, instead of Liam shouting, "More cracker!", his top-of-register chant had become "I go that way!" while pointing in the opposite direction of whichever way I was pushing the cart. Those of you who don't see how this is actually fun have obviously never experienced it. Or maybe I just like having the power to be 'off-putting' for a certain portion of the population without actually participating in the putting off. Honestly, people who let little kids get under their skin need to take a step back and smell their own poop.
You know what I mean.
By the time we went through the checkout, Liam's pitch was a little higher, and a little more desperate. "Go that way! Go that way!" As I exited, trying to console, I said to him (mostly for the benefit of the cashier), "Where shall we go to get into trouble now?"
The cashier laughed.
Liam cried.
"Go that way!" ...oblivious to the fact that he'd just answered my question, albeit unwillingly.
The gifts of potentially faster forward mobility from Mormor then had to be taken home and assembled. Assembly did not begin immediately after arriving home. Mommy and Daddy had to feed the twins, and then try to get them to nap...and 'recover' while they were napping. However, before the scheduled trike outing the next day, the vehicles were assembled in daddy's kitchen plant.
We'd originally had a nice blue and green Supercycle picked out for Liam, but as soon as he saw Morgan sitting on the Dora bike, he insisted on having one just like it. If, when he reaches 3, it's not cool to have a trike with purple on it, I'll add a painting room to my assembly plant...but I think he'll consider anything 'Dora' cool for a while yet.

While feeding the twins breakfast on Mother's Day, I put their helmets on them, to make sure they fit snugly, and Morgan's looks ridiculously cute on her.
An aside:
I like to call Morgan 'my doll'. The other day, when I was conducting a little 'descriptors' lesson, I asked her,
"Is Liam a boy or a girl?"
"Boy, daddy!" she exclaimed.
"Are you a girl or a boy?"
"I a doll."
Nothing gets past this girl.

At this juncture, we're going to wait a bit for Liam's arm to heal before taking him back out on the trike again, but we've got something else to keep the two of them occupied in the back yard this coming weekend. Stay tuned.
The above picture is my favourite from that day. Liam and Morgan are both so literal in their translation of Janne's prompt to "Look up!" as she's trying to get them to look toward the camera, this is what we get. Fun.

Talk About A Bad Day

2008-05-15T23:47:00.013-04:00

My very first memory of my childhood is from when I was around five years old. It was a sunny summer day. I was playing outside with my sister and her friend. Probably tag. Can't remember the details of what was happening outside, though. What I do remember is running into the house, still with the bright sun in my eyes. You know that state of vision where you go from somewhere very bright to somewhere much dimmer, and it's almost impossible to see anything?
Our kitchen was the first room through the back door of our house, and I ran in out of the back yard, whipped open the screen door, and prepared to make my way through the house along a course I had navigated many times. The difference on that day, however, is that my father had called someone to come and fix our oil stove (we're talking 1962 here), and the repairman had left his toolbox across the floor of the kitchen, not expecting a five-year-old to come bounding through. Obviously, he hadn't met me yet. But his toolbox was about to. I tripped over the tool box at full speed, and landed on it in a way that opened up quite a gash in my little knee, and I was bleeding profusely. My father was beside himself. Although he would chastise me for running into the house, he would later admit - while we were at Sick Bay at C.F.B Shearwater, just across from where we lived (he was still a Navy Chief at the time) and as I was getting the first stitches of my young life - that he should have known to move the repairman's toolbox out of the way, because of my habit of bounding into the house.

Let's move ahead to May 15, 2008.
I have had a toothache - no, an aching face - for about three days. Because of our schedules, Janne and I are very limited for time for anything other than very well pre-planned events in our schedule. Even then, the time lines are very tight. Janne's out the door to work at 8:45am to her job 5 minutes away. I, on the other hand, am the 'morning parent'. I get the twins up, feed them, change them, get them their bottles, dressed for daycare, and then I'm off to work. The whole process can take about an hour and a half to two hours, and normally somewhere in there, there's time for me to make myself some coffee.
So, the schedule gets 'bumped up' on this day to make room for a drive to my dentist in Burlington, 40 minutes down the highway, for an appointment to remedy this ache in my face before I head into work. I realize the appointment will still make me an hour late for work, and that I've got four days worth of music to program and edit, as well as voicetrack one show for our oldies station, plus do my live afternoon drive show for our country station - but the ache in my face must be stopped sooner rather than later.

It's a beautiful day in Southern Ontario. Sunshine, a little below average as far as temperature for the Ides of May, mind you - but still pretty darn pleasant, so the added importance of getting the kids slathered with sunscreen is added to the list of things to do before tromping out the door. It's Liam's turn, and things are going well. He has enjoyed the experience of being covered with SPF SnowWhite, but then I approach him with his shirt for the day, and he goes bananas. Definitely not his choice for apparel, which seems odd, because he's usually not fussy about what he's wearing. Actually, Janne had done me a favour, and laid clothes out for the twins, in an effort to save me some time, and as you'll see in his pic below - the shirt looks great on him - but today, he was not into stripes, or something. So, I struggled - but succeeded - in getting it on him, and then did what I do every single morning at the change table, after changing either of them out of their pyjamas and into clean Pampers and play clothes.
I say, "Don't move, okay? I'm going to get your shoes." And I get them.
They sit waiting, legs dangling over, until I return.
But on this day, Liam - who (I'm guessing) is still miffed at me for forcing him to wear the stripey shirt - tried to get down off the change table on his own...and I freaked...because he fell hard to the floor before I could get back to him.

After about a solid minute of me freaking out at him, his head cradled in my hands, while shouting completely stupid things, like, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT? DON'T EVER, EVER DO THAT, LIAM! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" - I realized this poor little boy was in shock from what he had done, his face soaking wet with tears - and he quite possibly could be badly hurt. This reaction was then followed by, "Where are you hurt? Show me where you're hurt! Let me look at you!" and my prompting him to move different parts of his body to make sure they would move. Having broken a few bones over the years, and separated the same shoulder twice (in general, I've beaten myself up pretty well), I was familiar with what to do and what not to do when looking for injury. But this is my two-and-very-close-to-a-half year old pride and joy looking up at me, looking woozy, out of it, and confused. His eyes were half-closed, and my heart was aching.
Twin sister Morgan, at this point, is now in full nursing mode. She was saying, "Liam okay, Daddy. Liam okay. Liam fine, Daddy. Liam not hurt", over and over again, as she was obviously also in shock over what she had just witnessed, and was feeling the need to fill the space with words of encouragement and stabilty.
Amazing child.
At this point, my heart is breaking even more, because I am realizing that I have to drop off the one person I don't want out of my sight until I know he's okay. I'm going to drop him at daycare with Lianne, and call Janne, pull her out of work to take Liam to Emerg, and go to what is now my very inconvenient dentist appointment to get something done about this damned aching in my face before heading to my mounds of work.
...and now I'm envying my late Father, who, on that day back in 1962, was on vacation, and had the luxury of taking his son, who was bleeding like a stuck pig, to get stitched up. I wanted the world to stop, so I could tend to my boy. He was whimpering, and completely out of energy, and favouring his right arm, just above his wrist. ...and I knew what that was! He had obviously used his hand to try to break his fall, and sprained his wrist (or worse). I've done that at least twenty times! ...so I carried him into the kitchen to grab one of the ice packs from the freezer (did I mention my hip replacement?) that were in there from my days of severe arthritis (and post-op) pain, and laid it on his forearm, and asked him if that felt better, to which he responded in a weak - but positive - manner. We were on to something here. I didn't want to leave the pack on for too long, though, since the skin of a two-year-old is thinner and more sensitive than an elephant hide like mine ...so I limited his exposure, got his and Morgan's coats on, and got them into the car.
Liam was silent the entire way, obviously still in shock and exhausted from the trauma. Morgan was trying to keep the mood up, suggesting music selections, and then describing the animals which would have been on screen during the music playing on the Baby Einstein CD, had we been watching the DVD at that moment. (They usually both do that, but Liam was just plain out of it, and I was trying my best to console him, while silently trying to console myself.)
Lianne, being the Goddess of Daycare that she is, took Liam from my arms as I entered, and held him, and he just slumped into her, still drained, while I explained the nightmare of the morning.
I called Janne.

Cut to 3pm. I'm into hour #2 of my show, and have hardly made a dent in my music editing. I can't concentrate on anything. I just want to be wherever Liam is, and comfort him. I...can't...focus.
Janne calls. She has now been at Emerg since before 11am. As has Liam, who now has a splint on his right wrist, with hairline fractures in wrist bones which will need to be set in a cast next Tuesday. (As suggested by my friend Jody, I'm going to try to get the folks at the Fracture Clinic to give him the coolest cast known to mankind.)
Liam looked at the iconic smiling figure Lianne had drawn on his splint,
and exclaimed, "Happy Mouth!"

Wait. Let me step back a bit. Earlier, in the middle of this long wait, Lianne took a wagon, and loaded up Morgan and the only other child in her charge for the afternoon (she usually has more, but thankfully not this day), and walked over to the hospital to see how things were going, and to bring Liam some toys.
Janne cried. That's our Lianne. We couldn't ask for more.
Making sure Morgan gets equal time while Liam's injured won't be a problem.
She'll keep us in line.
Here, she's observing Liam's splint.
It just might be the one thing she doesn't try to take from him.

When I got home from work about 7:30pm, I was happy to see Liam was playing in his usual style. He stopped trying to wrestle a blanket from Morgan for a moment, and came to me, rested his head on my chest, and clung to me, his one good arm around me, with a peaceful smile on his face - as if he knew he needed to comfort his guilt-ridden Daddy. Thankfully, he's only two-and-a-half (in 15 days), and he won't remember this event - until he reads about it here. (Everything I've written here is really for Liam and Morgan to eventually read...but don't be offended by that, because I'm glad you're reading it, too.)
...but I'll never forget this day.
Putting on a brave face.

I'm so sorry about your arm, Liam. I love you so much, buddy.
Get better soon.

Bzzzzz

2008-05-03T13:05:00.009-04:00

This is a short note, inspired by Lene's latest picture - posted on her blog, The Seated View.
It is here: http://www.theseatedview.blogspot.com/
Once again, she has taken an amazing shot, this time of a bee.
I brought Liam and Morgan into the kitchen (separately, because it's way easier) to see the 'bee picture' on the computer, and both of them were inspired (okay, prompted) to make comments on Lene's blog, which are their first official comments on any blog, as you might expect.
The funny thing (there's always a funny thing which is not contrived, believe it or not) was - as I was typing her comment for her (because she has people to do that sort of thing) - Morgan rummaged through some cupboards, and coincidentally found some promotional items from The Bee Movie, and the following photographic moments happened.

Morgan's antennae didn't stay on for long, as you can see.
Well, they were on, and then off, and then on, and then off ...You know?
Better luck with Liam.

There's no useful science for taking a picture of either of them at their rate of speed and attention span these days. Just aim the camera, push the button, and hope for the best.
My post is more of a prompting for you to check out Lene's bee pic on her blog. The twin pics, this time at least, are really for Lene.

Nowhere near as artistic as my dear sister-in-law's work, but I'm betting Lene will have a soft spot for these.

Long Time Away

2008-04-26T15:38:00.015-04:00

Since my last post at the end of February, the weather in March - unfortunately - turned out to be less than pleasant, after all. Now, April (which was considerably better in that regard) is over, too...and I'm finally getting a moment to write something. I've posted on a number of other blogs that I regularly read, but to compose something has been difficult because, well - life has been difficult. There have been many happy 'baby moments', but other aspects of our lives have been overwhelming, but that's not something I wish to write about here. I'm not trying to be all Pollyanna about it. I'm just not interested in venting or complaining about how tough things are when I still have all my faculties, and my kids and wife are healthy.
Actually, that's another thing. We were sick for an entire month.
Three times to a walk-in clinic with Liam and Morgan, three incorrect diagnoses! Frustrating and maddening. While the babies suffered, Janne and I got sicker, and finally both of us were so sick we missed work at our respective businesses - something I never do for illness. Janne also took a day off to get our kids to our family doctor, who gave us the correct diagnosis, and meds to get them better, and they're finally happy and healthy again. Two sick babies at once is one thing, but when all four of us are draggin' our butts, things are very tough for Mommy and Daddy.
"Twin things" that've happened in the last couple of months:
Well, Liam loves reciting the alphabet, and making the sound of each letter. He'll say, "What does the 'A' say? ...Ah!" in his cute little voice, and then continue through - without missing a letter or sound - to Z. Aside from being really cute, it's pretty darn smart for a 2-year-old, I think.
We also play a counting/tickling game - just something that came to me as an idea to get the twins to count a little further past 10. Liam loves to be tickled, and one day - while I had him on the change table - I coached him to count through to 20. Once we hit 20, I tickled him unmercifully, and he loved it. He now counts to 20 when he wants to be tickled - but we still have some work to do to get him to remember 13 on the way through. Funny to me that that's the number he sidesteps along the way.
Morgan, though, has a much different approach to the whole process. She usually waits for Liam to initiate the counting, but moments after I tickle Liam when we reach 20, she says, "No tickle me!" supposedly meaning, 'don't tickle me'...but, as I've found to be the case with many members of the female of the species - it might mean "Tickle Me!" ...but then again, it might not. So, I have to tickle her to see if she really means "No tickle me". If she really means 'no', however, I'm smart enough to stop.
Some recent pics now, since there hasn't been anything here in a while.
My favourite thing to do is play with them both, but Mommy and Morgan both sometimes feel like I favour the boy. Check out the series of pictures here for Morgan's facial expression when she feels she may not be getting all her deserved attention.

They're both very happy kids, however, which pleases both Janne and I to no end. Yes, they get whiny occasionally, and have 'issues' occasionally, but they snap out of those things very quickly. They prefer to be happy, which is all one can ask for. And they're clowns, too, as you can see with Morgan here, who placed her bib on her little head this way with the intention of being nutty -
...and Liam loves to laugh. Unfortunately, Daddy got a red-eye shot here, but the facial expression outweighed the need for a perfect picture -

One of the things that has been frustrating us here in our new hometown (aside from the ridiculously high property taxes) has been how terribly slow the city of Brantford has been at moving toward completion of the park across the road from our house. We moved in here of November of 2006, and recently were told that the earliest the park will be completed is probably spring of 2009! That's ridiculous! In the meantime, it looks like this -

Sad to us, because we bought this specific house because of its proximity to a park for the twins. We joke about it to keep from calling the city every day to complain - and call it the "Future Park", as the half-fallen down sign in the top picture indicates - but it's really getting annoying. Our house and cars are constantly covered with the dust from that huge pile of nothing but mud.
Janne and I continue to try to concentrate on how much of a treat it will eventually be for Liam and Morgan to just get up, get dressed, and cross the street to play in the park.
The 'Future Park'.

By the way - Hi!
It's nice to be back.
Can't imagine I'll be here all that often compared to before, but it feels good to just get back.

Seeing An End To February

2008-02-23T12:54:00.004-05:00

What a crap-tastic month for weather February turned out to be this year.
Even here in Southern Ontario, where there are just not as many hardy folk as there are in my home province of Nova Scotia, we've been getting nailed almost every day with either frozen precipitation or deep cold.
...or maybe, now that I've been living here ten years, I've gotten soft, and am just not used to the kind of winters we'd get in Halifax.
In Halifax, EVERYthing blows over the peninsula (shaped kinda like a foot), and I remember lots and lots of freezing rain my last years there as a resident. Lots of snow acumulaton when I was a kid - but then - as I got older, deep-freeze Februarys and lots of freezing rain, sometimes so thick on your windshield it took forever to scrape it off. I've broken a couple of scrapers off of snow brushes in my day.
Today, however, is sunshine galore, with a promise in the forecast of more sun and temps above freezing tomorrow, too - so February just may go out like a lamb.
...and then there's March. We'll all hope for the best, and in the meantime, I'll present to you some recent shots of the sunshine of my life. These two pictures were taken by our daycare provider, Lianne, who is also a ray of sun in our lives, especially in the lives of these two most important people.

Valentine's Day - and Big Hearts

2008-02-14T09:38:00.006-05:00

I've got some friends who think Valentine's Day is just a reason in the middle of a very cold month for the greeting card cartel to make a little extra from those of us still hard-pressed to pay our Christmas bills.
...and I guess anything is what you think it is - if that's what you think.

So, rather than argue, I just want to tell you how much I love my wife and beautiful babies every day, how Liam and Morgan have been on their best behaviour this morning, and very loving, which is nice for Valentine's Day, and I wish you the same kind of blessings in your life as I have in mine.

...but today is also a very sad day for me - because a man I consider one of the best men I've ever met, a decent and loving father of three daughters, and someone I've been lucky enough to call a friend - is being buried tomorrow.
Gary was only 54. I met him while working at home in Halifax. I had a talk radio morning show, and at the time, he was media relations officer for the Halifax Regional Police Service. He had already written a letter to the radio station complimenting our morning show, so I was obviously happy to have him a regular contributor to the show, but I didn't realize then how great a relationship would develop between us.
Gary loved the Toronto Maple Leafs - so much so, that they were mentioned in his obituary which ran in the Chronicle-Herald in Halifax earlier this week. I am including it below. Hockey was one of our favourite subjects, because he knew I'm a big Montreal fan, and a good enough guy - and one of the few people - to acknowledge that it made sense that I was a Habs fan, since my mother had grown up in the city. Gary also played on our radio station's hockey team, and was tremendously athletic. He and I had wonderful verbal jousting battles over our respective favourite NHL teams, and it was always fun and light. There were no hurt feelings, there was no name-calling, there was no sulking - just good-natured fun, and a lot of laughter.
Laughter.
Good God, Gary was a big man. He was obviously 6-ft-something-around-8-or-9, but he was at least 7 feet tall to me. When he laughed, you couldn't miss it. It came from way deep down inside his massive frame, and it pulled in everyone within earshot.
Gary and I shared something else...the passion for being involved in the community, although he was far better at it than I. One of the things we were both involved in was ringette. I coached a ringette team in his hometown of Bedford, and he was a referee for the league. I used to call him over to the boards during games and offer him five dollar bills to go easy on my team. He'd smile wide, and bellow, "Put that away! You're in trouble now!" - and skate away to get back to his officiating.
Gary had left the force, and had become a city councillor for Halifax Regional Municipality, but he hadn't been one for very long - before he got the news of his
illness. He was a man who you know would have made a difference in many more lives, had he had the chance to continue. He certainly made a huge difference in mine.
Damn cancer all to Hell.
The last time I made it back to Halifax, in 2000, Gary was still with the Police, and the Swiss Air Flight 111 crash off of Peggy's Cove was still very fresh in everyone's memory. One of the people I felt I needed to see during that week was my friend Gary - so he and his wife, Darlene, took Janne and I out to a restaurant in Bedford, and Darlene and Gary told Janne and I many stories surrounding the disaster. One story Gary told remains as clear to me as the day he told it to us. It was of a passenger, who had a brother he hadn't seen in many years, who was going to teach him the game of golf.
In case you're not familiar with the story of Swiss Air 111 - no one survived.
So, after the tragedy, which left the brother without his sibling, the Halifax Police (and this is so typical of the hearts of Maritimers) arranged to give the man a set of golf clubs, and they had golf balls made up with his brother's name on them. They took him out to Peggy's Cove, and, as his hosts looked on, he hit the golf balls out to his brother, into the sea.

As I sit here, missing my friend, I feel I must tell you that I'll be wearing a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey today, and every February 10th - the night we lost Gary - for the rest of my life.
This is the first Valentine's Day in my life where I have told a man I love him, and I'm sure he'd have a great laugh over both the Leafs jersey, and that.

I love you, Gary Martin. 'Til we meet again.

Go here: http://thechronicleherald.ca/Front/1037510.html

MARTIN, Gary Vincent - Halifax Regional Police, Retired. 54, Bedord, passed away February 10, 2008, in the Palliative Care Unit, VG Site, QEII. He was the son of the late Albert and Marjorie Martin. Gary served with the HRP for 26 years before moving on as manager of the Community Response Team, and later became the City Councillor for District 21, Bedford. He was an active member of his community. Gary served on numerous committees, sports teams and volunteer initiatives. Gary enjoyed life to the fullest and touched the hearts of everyone he met. He enjoyed motorcycling, hockey, ball, and his Toronto Maple Leafs, but most of all, he loved his family. He is survived by his wife, Darlene (Conrad); daughters, Cynthia Bernasky (John), Dartmouth; Christa Martin (Aubrie), Ottawa; Candace Martin, Bedford; sister, Annamarie Hatcher (Bruce), Sydney; grandson, Ryan Bernasky. He was predeceased by granddaughter, Bailey Foulkes. Visitation will be held in the Burnside Ramada, Burnside, on Thursday, February 14, 2-4 and 7-9 p.m. Funeral in St. Mary's Basilica, Halifax, on Friday, February 15, at 10 a.m., Father Lloyd O'Neil officiating, assisted by Father Thomas Maybe. Private interment at a later date. Gary's family requests that people send stories about how Gary touched their lives. These will be used to help his grandchildren know what an amazing person he was. Please send to Martin Family c/o 1600 Bedford Highway, Suite 100-441, Bedford, NS B4A 1E8. Donations to the Canadian Cancer Society or Gary Martin Endowment Fund, c/o Bedford United Church, 1200 Bedford Highway, Bedford, NS B4A 1C3.

The Nana Flawa (story unrelated to pics)

2008-01-26T19:33:00.000-05:00

When she's home, (because apparently it's not an issue at our daycare provider's house - or so she brags) Morgan refuses to eat a banana unless she receives it in its peel, peeled about a third of the way down, top exposed, and placed in her hand just below the open peel. Then, as she eats it, either Janne or myself has to be present to peel it down a little further, so Morgan can continue. During breakfast one day earlier this week (I get to hang out with the twins every morning, because Janne is off to work earlier than I) Morgan's banana broke off, and she started to cry, saying, "Daddy fix!"

Liam loves books full of animal pictures. "Zebra!"
Morgan literally says "cheese!" while posing in front of the playhouse.

At the same time, Janne was calling from our front doorway to hurry up and move my car out from behind hers in the driveway, so she could get to work. So, I grabbed a spool of twist tie from a kitchen drawer. Love this invention, myself. Rather than a bag of a specific length of twist ties, one has the option to unspool and cut the twist tie material to whatever length needed for the project at hand with an in-line cutter.

What can I say? Little things like that make me happy.

Liam is very much caught up in his toy drawer inspection, and won't look up.
Morgan's excited about presenting Daddy with a toy.

Anyway - I cut off a long enough piece of twist tie, placed the separated section of the banana back 'in place', pulled the peel back up around it for support, and wrapped it securely into place with the twist tie. I then handed it back to Morgan.
She happily exclaimed, "Daddy FIX nana!"
All was right with the world.
With the kids happy in their high chairs and munching away on breakfast, I hurried outside, moved my car, and kissed my wife goodbye before she drove off to work.

Minutes later, when Morgan was down to the last couple of bites, I took a pair of scissors, and, just for fun - cut the peel to make it look like a flower around the banana. It then became a, "Nana Flawa", and was, "Pretty tasty, Daddy! Tasty nana flawa!", until she finished devouring it.

Yes, I'm a big believer in the little things these days.

The following day, while my wife was feeding the twins their supper meal, and Morgan was enjoying her banana in her traditional fashion, Morgan asked, "Mommy - nana flawa?"

I got the scissors out.
Sometimes, having your daughter think you're the cool guy in the room is as easy as a pair of scissors, a banana peel, and a little child-like creativity.

Actually, on most days, I should be walking down the street wondering when a chunk of frozen bathroom waste is going to fall from a 747 and crush me into the pavement to even out my luck, but I don't. I just accept how lucky I am for what it is.

I mean, look at them.

IN ADDITION:
I thought I'd add a shot of a more recently created Nana Flawa. Morgan has become a big fan of them. Pretty soon, all the kids are gonna want one.

Christmas Leftovers - A Pictorial

2008-01-11T19:47:00.000-05:00

Just incredibly busy so far in 2008, and no time to put together a post...but here are some pictures from the Christmas season that I enjoy. These were taken by either myself or Janne, with some taken on her old camera, and some on the new camera she got from Santa.

Since we missed Christmas Eve the Danish way, our first bit of Christmas was stockings from Santa on Christmas morning in our rooms, and then downstairs to discover presents around the "Christmas Playhouse", which stood in for the traditional Christmas Tree, because there was not enough room at the inn for both. Selfishly, for me, as someone who grew up with Christmas Day being 'The Day', I was glad that the twins' first exposure to Christmas began this way.

Morgan enjoyed discovering the presents. As a matter of fact, every time we mentioned Santa to her as the season approached, her answer was always in the form of a question: "Presents?" Nothing like learning early.

...and then there was the ripping open. Morgan liked it. Liam got upset, and didn't want to rip them open, so I helped him, and told him it was okay.

Once his Lego was open, he was fine. Santa had to get them Lego. They're half-Danish, after all. (Just in case you're not aware, Lego's origins are in Denmark, invented by Hans Christian Andersen, right after he wrote that story about the mermaid. Okay, only part of that is true.)

More ripping.

Lego fun.

More Lego fun. I have a picture somewhere of myself which looks exactly like the one above of Liam. I have to find it, and post them side by side. Don't hold your breath. The basement is still mostly unpacked boxes. We have twins, so there's rarely time to change your mind around here, much less unpack boxes of stuff that's obviously non-essential, since it remains unpacked after more than a year here. Yes, you're welcome to buy them from us for a hefty sum, like giant grab bags, unaware of the 'surprise' of contents you'll find. We could use the money, and it would help clean out the basement. Give it some thought. Okay, that's long enough.

He really liked his truck from our New Year's Day guests, Sue, Paris and Ella.

This is Sue (outside the playhouse) playing Peek-a-Boo with Liam, Morgan, Paris and Ella. Surprised the heck out of us that all four could fit in there. This game has now come to be known as "peek-a-Sue".

Liam started this a while back...turning the stool upside-down, and sticking his legs through...but when you're a twin, you need to learn to share everything.

Morgan with a mouthful of Cheerios.

My favourite shot of Liam in a while.
See you when I have more time to compose something.

Peace On Earth, Good Will To All Of Mankind

2007-12-27T07:12:00.000-05:00

The title of this post is slightly different than the 'traditional' phrase, which ends with 'goodwill toward men', but that particular phrase was written in a time when males had a little too much control over things, and women were rarely heard from. However, I don't have another word for 'mankind'. Taking the political correctness too far, and creating a word like 'personkind' would be silly, and missing the point.

...and back to the point. Traditions.

Unfortunately, the family was a wee bit sick over the holiday - touch of a weird strain of flu which slayed us for a couple of days. It wouldn't have been such a big deal any other time of the year, but when Christmas celebrations are done over a certain 'couple of days' of the year, it really wreaked havoc in some careful planning and preparation. Having to change plans which have become so much a part of our lives was very hard. At the same time, though, we were starting a new tradition - a whole new set of traditions, really - with the twins ...because this is the first year they've had even an inkling of Christmas. To start with, chronology is not high on the list when you're two...and all history is learned when you're that tender age (since they've having experienced hardly any themselves), so the situation leaves it up to Janne and I to decide how much of the Christmas experience - and what aspects of it - will become a part of their growing up.

Although I grew up in an English/Irish/Scottish household, which followed many of the traditions of those countries at Christmastime, I lost my parents early in life, and - as I'm sure is the case in many homes - those traditions become adapted to fit the family which remained, rather than have those traditions dictate how life will be lived at Christmas.

So, having spent the last few years with my wife's Danish family at Christmas, celebrating Christmas on December 24th was different for me, but I wasn't unbendable over the idea, because the traditions of my Christmas over the years had already been altered a few times. (I still remember one very bleak year - when I was still living in Nova Scotia, after both my parents had died, and communication between myself and my sister had almost completely ended - and I decided to do nothing about Christmas at ALL. No decorations for the house, no tree in it, no gifts, no cards... and after having done that, it gave me a better perspective of how things are for many unfortunate souls in the world. No love. A void which I've never forgotten.)

However, the anticipation of Christmas as a child on Christmas Eve, going to bed knowing that - when you got up Christmas morning - there'd be a stocking full of things you could never have guessed, plus some things you just knew'd be in it, is the one thing I've continued to miss over the years, partly because of the introduction of festivities which now begin on the night before. That anticipation was so wonderfully instilled in me by my parents, that it simply never went away. By the way, if you've just joined us - I'm FIFTY! ...and, yes, I still miss that feeling - when the celebration of Christmas begins before the anticipation actually takes a hold of my heart.

This is not meant in any way to belittle the Christmas spent with Janne's family, but for me - and I know her family understands this about me, because I've never known a group of people who stand on Christmas traditions the way they do - it's more an observance of their way of finding that spirit of love, and that family core which wraps us all up together so warmly.
Don't get me wrong.
I am a participant as well as an observer. The Danish side of my family wouldn't allow me to merely observe. As a matter of fact, I've even begun a few new traditions within their traditions. For instance, I purposefully mispronounce Danish words throughout the Christmas carols (which MUST BE SUNG BEFORE ONE SINGLE PRESENT IS OPENED, or Lene will have a little talk with you) to get a laugh.
I also joust (verbally) with Ken over the last remaining brown potatoes. I don't how to spell what we call them in Danish - I just mispronounce it occasionally. I'm hoping my wife or Lene will spell it correctly in the comments. It's basically potatoes and sugar. There's a pan, and heat, and a carmelization process. That's all you really need to know.

There are other new traditions, too, but they're all somehow wrapped up in the old ones. As I mentioned earlier, our traditions become adapted to fit the family which remains.

The Danish Christmas dinner is not a dinner. It is a feast. No other word comes close to describing its glorious nature. And Mom - the name I'm most comfortable calling Janne's mother, and a woman I feel I've not spoken nearly enough about on this blog - makes the entire meal with love and dedication every year - even when she's suffering with the pain from two recently broken feet, as she is this year. She's quite amazing, really, and is an incredibly generous spirit...and her version of the traditional Danish Christmas dinner is awesome. It's much more than awesome, but if I couldn't think of a better word than 'personkind' earlier, I'm not going to try to re-invent the dictionary here.

So, when we missed the Danish traditions this year, it was difficult for both Janne and I. However, in the true spirit of Christmas, everyone who usually assembles at Mom's on Christmas Eve made a point of coming together - just for us - again on Boxing Day (yesterday) for a Christmas lunch - with as many of the same comforts we have come to expect from Christmas Eve which could be reproduced - and you will no doubt see some photographic evidence of that occasion here, and on Lene's blog, in the not-too-distant future.

...and thank you - from Liam, Morgan, Janne and myself - to every member of our family - both by blood, and extended - who changed their plans to give us that Christmas.

Our Little Twinkling House

I'll leave you with this quote from Bill McKibben - a prolific writer, whose work includes, "The Comforting Whirlwind: God, Job, and the Scale of Creation", "Hope, Human and Wild, True Stories of Living Lightly on the Earth", and (the source of the quote) "Hundred Dollar Holiday: The Case For A More Joyful Christmas":

"There is no ideal Christmas; only the one Christmas you decide to make as a reflection of your values, desires, affections and traditions."

Hope you had (or, quite possibly, are still having) your ideal Christmas.

Horsies

2007-12-07T17:19:00.000-05:00

We would have posted this sooner, but the weather postponed Liam's and Morgan's birthday trip to see - and ride - horses by a week.
Janne works with Amy, a lovely lady who owns the horse pictured here, and she had very generously offered to have the twins over to see 'Sexy' and 'Junior' in living colour. Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of Junior here, but Liam and Morgan enjoyed the company of both horses, and had a chance to feed both of them after they had gone for their ride on Sexy. (Junior loves Scotch Mints, by the way, so if you ever visit, make sure you bring a bagful.)
Both Liam and Morgan love animals, and love making animal sounds (Liam and I had fun 'Moo'ing at the cows while we were visiting the horses), and both twins love identifying animals when they see them anywhere - whether while out in the world, or on TV...so we figured visiting with the horses would be a good thing.

It turned out to be a great thing.
At one point, when Morgan was on the horse with Amy, Morgan looked down at the back of Sexy's head and exclaimed,"Run!" No fear in the girl whatsoever. Of course, we were in a riding ring, and there would be no galloping in their introduction to horse riding. Had it been up to Morgan, they would have been tearing down the road and visiting horses at other farms.

Liam was - as usual - far more laid back about the event. He also wore a helmet that was a little too big, and the way he wore it reminded me of the way you might have seen World War One soldiers wear their helmets. Cocked to the side, displaying lots of devil-may-care attitude."Ride a horse? Sure. Done it a million times."
...And also as usual, Janne and I had just as much fun watching them as they had participating. Amy was a wonderful hostess. She also competes in Cutting Horse competitions, and we're now looking forward to attending some of her events and cheering her - and Sexy - on....and every time - for a while, at least - that we put Morgan's coat on her to go out anywhere, she's going to say, "Horsies?" - hoping that the ranch is our destination. I see riding lessons in her future.Janne took all the photos while I worked the video camera. I labeled the picture above, "Wave To Daddy", but there's a chance Liam was actually just taking a swing at Morgan's helmet to see if it was actually protecting her. One can't be too sure.

Happy birthday again, babies.

Two Years Old!

2007-11-26T14:02:00.000-05:00

First things first.
Thanks to everyone who posted their concerns about the twins. Both are still battling colds, but we're confident they're getting a little better by the day. Morgan's bout with croup is behind her, and now her biggest concern is the glaze running from her little nostrils, to which she draws our attention by simply saying, "Nose!" in her very cute little voice, which no longer carries the rasp it had last week. Liam could let the stuff drain all day (and, like a typical guy, find something completely inappropriate on which to wipe it - like my shirt) and it wouldn't bother him. As soon as Morgan feels the least bit of moisture on or near her philtrum, however, it's, "Nose!" - and like the royalty she believes she is, expects it to be immediately wiped with a clean, soft tissue. And we usually reinforce her monarchical fantasy by doing exactly that.

The twins will turn two on November 30th - and no, we have no idea where two years went, really - although this last week has actually felt more like a month. Since they don't obsess over chronology at this point, we decided we wouldn't, either - and since their health had provided us all with a rather traumatic time over the last 7 days, we made the decision to give them their 'big' birthday gift early. So, we brought them downstairs this past Saturday morning to introduce them to their new -
Playhouse!
I'll let the pictures do the talking for a bit.

First snack in the new 'crib':

...and just for fun, Janne took this (all the playhouse pictures, actually) after I had quietly finished putting the playhouse together late on Friday night so it would be ready for them on Saturday morning. Yes, even with the hip replacement, I can curl up inside a kid's playhouse.
When I take Liam and Morgan to our daycare provider on the way to work in the morning, they have a tendency to immediately move toward the playhouse she has set up in her living room. However, it turns out it's a good thing we gave them their 'home' playhouse early, because the 'daycare' playhouse got replaced this past weekend with a Christmas tree!

This next picture has nothing to do with any of the above - but it's a bit of a glimpse into Morgan's nature and personality. While I had her on the change table last Thursday, she was enjoying letting her favourite elephant, Elly, bask in the sun, and was holding her out and turning her in different directions, so that Elly could fully benefit from the sun's warming rays. What makes it such a 'Morgan moment' is because - all the while - our little girl was feeling like complete crap. Her face lets you know that she's simply not herself - the drooping eyelids, and that stuffed-up look - yet she didn't want to keep Elly from enjoying a sunny moment on the table.A final note on Morgan:
She loves to say 'Bless You' when someone sneezes, but it doesn't end there. She also says 'Bless You' when I cough, or even clear my throat. It's really quite lovely when it happens, but this morning was especially nice. Taking her lead, I've decided to say 'Bless You, Morgan' when she sneezes or coughs (she hasn't yet learned how to clear her throat - which, by the way, as a 'radio professional', I can tell you - isn't a good practice anyway, because it's hard on your vocal cords). This morning, after she coughed, I quickly responded with a 'Bless You, Morgan.'
Again, she trumped me, by responding with, 'Bless You, Daddy.'
Thank you, baby girl. I'm definitely blessed already.

Scary Day

2007-11-19T10:58:00.000-05:00

Croup.

The word doesn't really sound anywhere near as frightening as the disease can prove to be. In particular, when it hits one of your children, and especially if your children are younger than three, when it can be deadly.

Saturday morning.
Liam had woken with incredibly large (yes, disgusting) amounts of thick, green mucous streaming down from his nose, after having been perfectly fine the night before. It really didn't make sense that he got that sick that quickly.
...and that was the good news.
The reason it was the good news is because it meant that the virus which manifests itself as croup had hit him, but his body was strong enough to resist, and turn it into a bad cold.
Morgan, on the other hand, had woken with no symptoms of anything.
She seemed fine.
By the end of the day on Saturday, she was clearly not.
As the day progressed, Morgan started to get what seemed to be a hoarse throat. By evening, she was what Janne and I refer to as 'rattling'. Morgan, since birth, and (we feel) because the twins were early, has always had a noisy respiratory system. However, on this occasion it sounded like her lungs were filling up with fluid.
We would find out Sunday that they were not - although that wouldn't feel like good news.
Saturday night, while Liam still was dealing with the streaming thick green stuff, Morgan had started to sound like she was having a lot of difficulty breathing. When we put her to bed, she wanted almost immediately to get into bed, rather than cavort around the room in her usual 'not yet' manner. About half an hour later, she was crying herself awake, afraid of her own inability to take a full breath.
Now, I'll give you this -
We are freaks when it comes to parenting our children. We are overprotective, and prone to panic at the drop of a hat. But we always think things through after our initial panic, talk (or argue) it out, and then act.
Our reaction was to set up a humidifier in her room.
As it turned out, it was completely the wrong thing to do.
Since this was still Saturday overnight, and we weren't yet convinced that we couldn't handle it ourselves, we would wait until morning, re-assess, and then - if it was worse - we'd take her to a walk-in clinic or hospital emergency. All of this meant that we had yet to find out that the diagnosis was croup.
Neither Janne nor I thought about croup, because to the best of our memories, neither of us, or anyone in our families, ever had croup, so we had no experience with it.
The worst thing for croup, as we found out on Sunday - when we were now scared for our daughter's life - is warm, moist air. Cold, moist air is one of the best things to relieve croup symptoms, but the virus which causes croup thrives in warm, moist air.
Morgan was waking up through Saturday night and into Sunday almost hourly - crying, afraid, hardly able to breathe - and sounding like a barking seal. It was scaring the Hell out of us, so I can only imagine how scary it was for her. We decided to make sure she was either lying on her side or on top of one of us, and not on her back, as we were still thinking that it was her lungs, and that being on her back would be the most difficult position for her to be able to breathe. I spent from 5am until 6am on the reclining chair in Morgan's room with her on my chest. She slept well, and seemed to be breathing a little easier.
As soon as we had the babies fed and ready on Sunday morning, we got them into a walk-in clinic.
Bad news.
We live in a small town where they've already closed down one walk-in recently, so everybody that would have gone there was now in the same waiting room with us. Our wait could be two hours, from what we gathered from the people around us. Liam was restless, while Morgan lay prone and weak in my arms.
After a considerable amount of time had passed, Janne asked me to please go back up to the desk, where they had a sign suggesting that if a condition of a patient worsens while waiting, to let them know.
Well, they took one look at Morgan, and we were in a consultation room within five minutes. Had a wonderful doctor, whose name I unfortunately did not get, and who referred us directly to Brantford General Emergency, and to a Dr. Malik, a pediatrician in Brantford who's considered one of the best.
Aside from the fact that maybe we should have gone to Brantford General first, we were in good shape. Although, if Morgan was older than her slightly less than two years, and could voice her own opinion, I'm sure her version of how things were going would be considerably different.
She was still suffering, afraid, and already tired of the number of people poking and prodding her, sticking things in her ears (which she really hates), putting a cold stethoscope against her skin...and all of these people strangers to her.
In came Dr. Malik, a wonderful woman who made Morgan feel as 'at ease' as possible by first examining her stuffed toy frog, to make sure it was okay. However, since this day started pretty early, and she had very little sleep through the night, and it was now well into the afternoon, Morgan was still pretty close to inconsolable. She wasn't interested in the food we brought with us, and was drinking very little. Luckily, though, our little girl wasn't dehydrated - which can be another really bad symptom to accompany croup.
The air passage through her throat was really tight, and the sounds she was making were even worse than earlier in the day. She cried with the pain brought by each one, but crying made her bark even more, which increased the pain. We were indeed at the right place at the right time, but her symptoms couldn't go away fast enough for any of us.
In the meantime, Liam (who was still draining the lovely green stuff) was getting more restless by the moment. The hospital was not the ideal environment for an almost-two-year old who still had most of his energy, although this was definitely the longest he'd had to subsist on just snacks and without a solid meal that I can remember, so he was starting to also get cranky as his restlessness increased. I took him out to the car so he could nap while we waited for another round of epinephrine for Morgan. The doctor wanted to observe her until she was satisfied the treatments had gotten our little girl through the worst of it. Janne said to me, "If I'm not out in half an hour, come looking."
About 45 minutes later, I woke poor little Liam back up again, and carried the guy back in to where we left our female half. Janne and Morgan were still sitting in exactly the same position in exactly the same seat beside the same bed. (Bed #7, which I'm sure we'll always remember. Fear will do that to your memory, won't it?) Janne explained that the doctor wanted to do another round, maybe two, of treatment, before letting her go - so I took Liam home for a meal, and waited for her to call.
By this time, Liam appeared dejected, and had that glazed-over look that comes with a little bit too much new information and a few too many new experiences in one day. I'm pretty proud of how well-behaved he remained through the whole process. His mother and father had gotten impatient long before he did, and we should have known better. He was a trooper.
While I was home, and feeding Liam, was the toughest time for me. Our family - and the twins, in particular - are not separated very often, and if they are, it isn't for very long. Myself and Liam being home without Morgan and Janne felt awful, and I missed the comfort of our little family. I'm sure Liam felt it, too.
No one felt it more than Morgan, however.
When Janne called to have Liam and I come back to pick them up, I got the two of us ready as quickly as possible. As I pulled up to the Emergency entrance, I waved to Morgan as she looked toward the car through the glass, and she - with visibly much more energy than she had had for the last 24 hours or more - pointed at me, and I could read her lips saying, "Daddy!"

Best feeling in the world.
As Janne was trying to put Morgan into her car seat, she got out of Mommy's grasp for a moment, and leaned into Liam's face. She got about an inch away from his nose, and whispered, in her still-somewhat-raspy little voice, "Nyna!" (which is how, at this point, she pronounces his name).
Our world was getting back to normal.

...but Sunday was a very long day.

Somebody's Son - In Remembrance

2007-11-10T02:08:00.001-05:00

I could have posted In Flander's Fields here, but decided against it - for the following reasons.
I've been very lucky to meet some very fine people while being a radio announcer. I'm fairly new (the last four or five years, in a career which began in 1983) to the country music genre, but one of the things that's easy to notice is the - for lack of a better word - quality of people among the artists who work in the field. Humble, decent, fun-loving, honest, family-oriented people who are a credit to their profession.
One of the people who I've yet to meet, but have recently spoken with by phone, has impressed me as much as any, and more than most. It is no surprise to me that Paul Brandt - himself such a wonderful guy I'd be way off the topic if I started praising him in this column to the degree he deserves - is a good friend of his.
I'm talking about Aaron Lines.
Aaron recently had his heart broken by a story he saw on the news.
He's certainly not alone in that. Many of us have had the same experience.
However, Aaron managed to put pen to paper - and then, his words to music - and compose a beautiful song about it.
I've included the lyrics here, and I welcome you to go to his website, aaronlines.com, and read more, and find out more about Aaron. I've added a direct link to his site in my Links column on the right.
In what Aaron considers the greatest honour of his career, the song he wrote - 'Somebody’s Son' - is being played at every 'Welcome Home' ceremony for American soldiers who arrive back to their posts after fulfilling their tour of duty in Iraq.
It's replacing the song they’ve been using for years, Toby Keith’s 'American Soldier'. Pretty great stuff for a singer/songwriter from Alberta.
With Aaron's permission (and with thanks to Brenda McKeever, who represents him), I am presenting the lyrics for this inspiring and beautiful song here:Please click on the above picture so you can read the lyrics.
I've mentioned before here that my father was a military man. Maurice Edward Biggs was in the Royal Canadian Navy, and fought in both the Second World War and the Korean War. He was a very decorated Chief Petty Officer after the fact, because he sailed on Minesweepers in front of the Canadian Fleet.
More importantly, he made it home alive, and started a family with Margaret Raith Smith. Had he not made it home alive, neither I, nor Liam and Morgan would even exist. Thank you, Dad, for helping to defend this country, and our freedom.
Indeed, thank you to each and every member of every branch of the Canadian Military, both past and present, for helping to keep this country free.
...and thank you to our American friends who do the same for their country, and for recognizing in a Canadian boy's song, the power of love and recognition of the cold hard facts of war - and its affect on families everywhere.
At the centre of the message of Aaron's song is not having the capacity for the grief which would come if it were indeed his own son who gave up his life in the name of 'winning a war'.
To that end, the song grips me every time I think of my son
and my little girl
and my everything
and I am always brought back to this man
Thank you Aaron, for this beautiful piece of music. My hope is for the entire world to someday hear - and understand - its message.

***I recently received a note from Brenda McKeever, from Aaron's management team, who tells me that there's now a link to this page from Aaron's website.
An unexpected honour, Brenda. Thank you.***

Hallowe'en Redux

2007-10-31T15:05:00.000-04:00

We're not going to get new costumes for Liam and Morgan this year - for a lot of reasons - but mostly because they don't eat candy (since they're not yet two years old, and neither Janne nor I come from the Britney Spears school of pathetic parenting), and therefore we're not going to put them through the whole door-to-door-to-strangers'-houses ritual to freak them out for no reason. Their world will be altered enough by kids coming around to our door looking for candy.
To fork out money for costumes just for a one-hour photo op simply isn't in the budget this year, and neither Janne nor I have had the time lately to even shop for costumes.
So instead, we present you a few pics from last year at this time, when Janne was still off work on maternity leave, our collective life wasn't quite so hectic, and we were lucky enough to have found a couple of inexpensive costumes for the one-hour photo op in our old backyard in Hamilton on a sunny October day.
Whatever you're planning for tonight, stay sane and stay safe.

It's In The Eyes

2007-10-20T12:05:00.000-04:00

My sister-in-law, known to Liam and Morgan as Moster (Danish for Aunt, or Mother's Sister) Lene, has a great eye for photography. Her blog page is listed on the right under Links. It's The Seated View - a name which (I believe) should be the name of a coffee table book of her photographs someday, but I've already bugged her enough about this - and it features some great photography, but not just pictures. Quite often any pictures or links lead to thought-provoking and soul-searching topics. Lene's always had the unique perspective of a brilliant mind confined to physical limitations, but she will prove to you within a very short time of having met her that she is not 'limited' by anything...and for God's sake, don't play Scrabulous on Facebook with her. She'll happily murder you.
Anyway - because we had never asked before, and after seeing how much more clearly many of her shots of the twins were turning out compared to ours - I finally asked the megapixel capability of her camera. It's 5.
I'm convinced that those with 7.1 or more have possibly spent too much, but equally convinced that those of us with 3.2 or less have spent too little. 5 seems just right.
However, even when her camera jumps, or the subject moves, or for whatever reason it doesn't quite capture the cleanest version of the picture she wanted, her eye proves to have been correct in capturing the moment.
Case in point - A less-than-23-month-old boy whose eyes look like he's thinking about something well beyond his years. It's my favourite picture of Liam yet.
He's definitely shy when first in a more public atmosphere than when at home, and this occasion was the day - on an October weekend - when we finally celebrated Lene's birthday - which, by the way, is in August. Scheduling is not one of our strong points, but the twins made us forget about the tardiness of the celebration fairly quickly. Here's Liam finding a safe spot in the room:
A fun shot of Morgan. She does this a lot at meal time, but this is the first time there's been an extra body (Lene) to capture it:This is one of my favourites from the day. Everyone was getting ready to leave, and the ladybug and honeybee that Moster Lene had bought for the twins (who gets which was decided later by the recipients - Liam went for the bee eventually) are in mid-air - and perfectly clear with Moster's 5 megapixel camera - as Ken and I decided the bugs were soft enough to be used as projectiles of fun:
Another shot of Morgan at meal time, but Lene gave it a classic finish in black and white. She's such a great subject:
...and her Mommy's pretty cute, too. Janne's trying to get Morgan to pronounce "Moster" while pointing her out in the picture she's holding:
...and finally - a miracle of miracles - Lene manages to take a picture of me that I don't hate, or want to hide, or delete. You have no idea the trouble I have with my own image. There are hundreds which have gone by the wayside, because of my issues with the way I look...but I'm okay with this. The bee needed to be securely transported to the parking garage from Mormor's (Danish. Mother of their mother) building, and the twins aren't at the point where we can say, "don't throw it", without getting quite the opposite response. So the obligatory, "Is that a bee in your pocket?" comment was met with, "Hey. You should see the stinger."
All photography provided through Moster's unique prospective.
Thanks, Lene. Belated Happy Birthday.

The Whole "Meme" Thing

2007-10-17T00:53:00.000-04:00

I had to look up the word "meme", by the way. I had never heard of it. Now I'll be able to use it when I'm in the middle of a game of Scrabulous on Facebook, and I'm stuck with only m's and e's. Yes, I'm on Facebook. I actually have a couple of friends there, too, which is nice.

1. My initial feeling on this was, "I'll never be able to think of seven things that I think are unique enough about me to even bother mentioning." ...but, okay. I'll play your game...and now I only have to think of six.

2. I've collected baseball caps for as long as I can remember. I only wear a baseball cap occasionally, making it easily the biggest waste of money and just a stupid quirk...They're everywhere, and my wife is annoyed by it, but she accepts it. I have about 300 of them. I know, I know. Don't worry, my wife has already said it, whatever it is you're saying.

3. I miss playing hockey. I miss being a goaltender - especially now that I feel I could play closer to my former potential, since having my hip replaced. Most people won't ask me to play anymore because they think I'm going to break because of the hip replacement, and maybe they don't want any fingers pointed at them, yet I feel better than I've felt in about ten - maybe even fifteen years, and the irony is I played through pain all that time. If I were to give any advice, it would be to not play through pain unless someone is paying you rather well to do so. It's why I ended up needing a hip replacement at 50. Did I mention how great I feel now?

4. I am head over heels in love with my children. But you knew that.

5. I am occasionally hit by a wave of regret relating to career. I feel like a failure because I am not pursuing my original passion, playing music for a living, and that gets driven home every once in while by the fact that my current career has me playing other people's music instead of my own.

6. I'm very sarcastic. Ridiculously so - but almost always meant in a joking, fun way. Unfortunately, I feel that my sarcasm is misinterpreted and misunderstood by someone at least once a day.

7. My mother's middle name was Raith. I have never known another person with the name, and I absolutely love it. I find it haunting and beautiful all at once.

I'm not going to tag anyone else (sorry) but I've enjoyed reading everyone else's.
...an' dat's me meme, b'y.

Giving Thanks

2007-10-08T19:08:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Janne - for marrying me, and for finding - and reviving - the fun-loving, crazy kid inside the scared and sad 13-year-old inside the angry 28-year-old inside the 50-year-old...and thanks for liking and understanding all of them.
Thanks to Morgan, who - just out of the blue today - put her little arms around me and squeezed my neck, and then kissed me on the mouth with her tiny little lips while we were sitting and watching video of our Thanksgiving Day trip to African Lion Safari on the computer. It was so spontaneous, though, it made me shy for a moment. The "Aw, shucks" kinda shy. I think it was her way of saying 'thank you for a fun day'. Thanks for surprising me every day, sweet girl.

Thanks to Liam, a thoughtful little boy who looks at me in such a way that it fulfills any dreams I've ever had of how wonderful it would be to have a son. As if to say, "Here I am, Dad. I'm your boy. The one you've always wanted." When he says, "Hi Daddy", runs up to me, and hugs my legs, there isn't a bad feeling in the world that can penetrate my heart. Thanks for wanting me as much as I want you.
These great gifts. Such GREAT gifts!
I wish you peace - and the kind of love I get to feel every day.

Tidying Up

2007-10-04T01:00:00.000-04:00

Our living room is never "tidy".

Okay, sometimes it is - but it's usually 10pm or beyond - after we've put Liam and Morgan to bed, and have managed to retain just enough energy to put the day's toys back in their designated drawers and containers. We don't get to enjoy the cleanliness for long - because, at that point, we barely have what it takes to stay awake through an hour of TV and a cup of tea - but at least we can enjoy looking back down the stairs as we head up to bed, and briefly witness the entire floor uninhabited of its usual adornment of colourful toys and books. Yes, colourful toys and books are wonderful things, and I'm thankful to have them...until I feel like I've put a hard, plastic, triangluar-shaped, 'developmental toy' through the sole of my foot because I was dodging a ride-on car on one side and a Little People figurine on the other. Developmental toy, indeed. Helping me develop a limp.

Often, we simply don't have anything left in our collective tank, so we'll instead choose to stumble through the toys on the way to the kitchen, bathroom, or bed...but waking up to a living room full of toys is also exhausting - so we dig down to find the strength, sometimes having to crawl around the floor on our hands and knees to get the minutiae.
Yes, a bit of irony there.

For the last little while - don't ask me how long, exactly, because there is no room in the head of a parent of twins for such trivial information - we've incorporated the twins' help in putting the toys away, and - in a very Pavlovian manner - they respond only to the word "tidy". Asking them to "help clean up" elicits no determinable response, nor does any other way one might say, "Okay, it's about all this stuff. Can we dispose of it, perhaps?"

The word "tidy" is also not foolproof nor perfect - but it's all we've got. Sometimes, it takes a lot of coaxing and parent participation, while other times they'll go very enthusiastically into putting things away - until a particular item triggers a couple of 'fun synapses' in their cute little brains, and then it's playtime all over again.

Such was the case earlier this evening. I took these pics on the fly while Janne was upstairs getting Morgan's bed ready, so they're a tad grainy, sorry. It's from not having time to set light or anything else up properly - but at least they give you an idea of how "tidy" can sometimes go off the rails. These twins are many things, but "spur of the moment" is always among their top three.

What you see here actually went on for quite a while. Liam wanted the 'boat-which-used-to-be-a-drawer' all to himself - but every time he climbed in, Morgan followed. So, Liam would then climb out. Morgan, who had her heart set on a 'team version' of the game, would then follow Liam out - and the ritual would begin again. Honestly, it must have happened fifteen times this way - until poor Liam finally gave up and went on to something else.

...and eventually, Daddy finished the tidying.

Differences and Similarities

2007-09-23T11:05:00.001-04:00

Twins.

One of the things that made Janne and I laugh (a lot) - because it happened so frequently just after they were born - was the number of people who would ask us, after we had told them we had one-of-each-boy-and-girl twins, whether they were identical (as opposed to fraternal) twins. Now, I can understand - if we had two boys or two girls - how someone might be prompted to ask this question, but I'm pretty sure the differences in a boy and a girl are distinct enough that, while going through what you're going to ask next of the new parent of twins, you'd think it wise to suppress the urge to ask the 'identical or fraternal' question. Nope.

As a matter of fact, we actually had a nurse in a doctor's office ask. Yes, after she was told that they were boy-and-girl twins. A nurse.
We don't go to that doctor anymore.Did she skip a few anatomy classes, I'm wondering?

In the right setting (and sometimes the wrong setting, out of frustration with the stupidity of the question, and my mischief level at that moment), when someone would blurt out, "Are they identical?" I'd often reply, "No. One of them has a penis." Some were taken aback, some thought me rude. Others were just embarrassed. Still others showed a blank stare, making me wonder if they might simply be taking a second to reflect on what it would be like to either have - or not have - one themselves, depending on the sex of the person who just asked the question.

Okay...In an effort to provide the benefit of the doubt (although I have a really hard time doing that for someone in the medical profession, so this applies to everyone except the aforesaid nurse...Sorry.) I think, in many cases, it's one of those, "How are you?" questions - where the person, struggling to keep the conversation going (or in some cases, just to seem interested), blurts out what they surmise to be the next logical thing.
At work, you see someone in the hallway, they say, "Hi", you say, "How are you?" Next time you see them in the hallway that day, you might again say a variable of that very same thing. By the time you see them for the third time that day in the same hallway, you're looking the other way because your brain simply can't cope with starting a conversation with "How are you?" that you're never going to finish. Jerry Seinfeld has already written about this, but maybe you haven't read him. So, where "how are you" is the knee-jerk follow-up to the "hi" salutation, "are they identical?" may simply be a person (who's not really paying attention)'s follow-up to the word 'twins'.

At a week from their 22-month mark, these fraternals of ours have LOTS of differences besides their naturally-provided anatomical ones.

For instance, here's how they each respond to the opportunity to take over possession of Daddy's hat.
Morgan knows she looks cute in it.

Liam just sees it as another object to throw over the baby gate.

Here's how they each responded to the new responsibility - introduced by "Mumma" this weekend - to using their own untensil, and feeding themselves.
Morgan went for it immediately...

Liam took a lot of coaxing...

...and in the end, finally moved away from the 'caveman approach'.

One thing they do approach identically, however, is using Daddy as a tunnel.

That game went on for a while, actually, as I crawled across the floor to the kitchen. I think the added bonus of Daddy's stretched shirt acting as a bit of a blind added some fun (this particular shirt has been stretched to a ridiculous dimension by the two of them pulling it over their heads at the same time when I sit between and feed them breakfast in the morning, so they can simultaneously play peek-a-boo from beneath it) kept the tunnel game going a little longer.

Oh, and by the way - Happy Autumn. Sunny and 24c where we are.
My favourite season.

New Colours

2007-09-16T14:00:00.000-04:00

Janne and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary (we've actually been together for more than 9 years) this past Saturday. The 15th of September is the actual date, so it was the first time it fell on a Saturday since the very sunny, warm and beautiful day we got married. We had an incredible meal at Ged's Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge in Brantford - and it was quite possibly the best meal we've ever had out together. Awesome restaurant (but bring lots of money - greatness doesn't come cheap)! We hope to go back for Anniversary #7. A really quite perfect restaurant experience is very rare - and no, they're not paying me to say this. If you ever swing by Brantford, though, you should go. It's worth it.
I also managed to keep where we were going a surprise from her right up until the time we pulled into the parking lot, which is a rare thing with her - or any member of her family, for that matter.
Happy Anniversary to my sweetheart. If it weren't for Janne wanting babies so badly, we wouldn't have these incredible, bright, loving, intelligent, beautiful - and, thankfully - healthy children. I'll always be grateful for her persistence and willingness to try anything necessary to take us from 'just a couple' to a family. To all those other 'just a couple's out there: If you're committed to staying together for the rest of your lives, start enhancing the rest of those lives with children sooner rather than later. It will take the focus off yourselves (which - trust me - is a good thing), give you a whole new perspective, and add colurs to your life you didn't know existed.

Not a lot more words for you today - mostly pictures. I just thought the babies looked incredibly cute at their play table, creating a few new colours and pictures of their own in the following shots.

It's not all about play, however. They apparently also like to take a moment to browse the deals in Wal-Mart's Baby Days Flyer. Mommy took this shot after having relinquished the flyer with pictures of Pooh and so many other baby-enticing things. Unfortunately, Mommy found that the advertised Pooh creatures in the flyer really sucked when she saw them in the store. Darned flyer photographers make everything look better than it really is.

Something Different

2007-09-06T14:42:00.001-04:00

Stolen from my sister-in-law, Lene's blog:

Enjoy.

Growing, Changing, Still Havin' A Blast

2007-08-29T16:37:00.000-04:00

There's a bit of anxiety when one of your children no longer looks like a baby. After all, babies are cute and cuddly and special, and it's what they are when you first fall in love with them.

So, when your child starts to develop the physical traits less associated with baby looks and more with the boy or girl you expect they're going to grow into, there's a little feeling of loss. I felt one, at least.

Liam now looks like a little boy. There is really nothing 'baby-ish' about him anymore. He's a very happy boy, mind you, which I'm thrilled about. Where Morgan might go off on a bit of a tantrum, and let her emotions get the best of her, Liam - for the most part - is just happy to be here. You can't really ask for more than that from a person who turns just 21 months old tomorrow. (By the way, my sweet children, a belated Happy 21 Months to you both! - when you eventually get around to reading this) Both babies are very quick to learn, and this is Liam with a couple of his favourite toys. Nesting blocks and nesting bowls.

He loves putting them together, whether inside each other, or on top of each other. He's a good builder, in that regard. If he has a bad habit, it's that he's also a thrower. We have to remind him all too often that - among the toys he currently plays with - only balls are for throwing. He throws heavy stuff, too, and I'm hoping it won't be too much longer before 'no' means 'no' in the toy-throwing department.
One of the games we play together - due to the placement of the toys in our living room - is peek-a-boo, which both Liam and Morgan have enjoyed in some form since I can remember. Whether it's hands peek-a-boo, or on the change table, when Liam (in particular) will grab the bottom of whatever shirt I'm wearing and pull it over his face while he's lying there, there's always a chance we could break into a game at any moment, which is the beauty of peek-a-boo, really. Plus, there are no batteries required.
From where I sit, I can see either of the twins through the stair posts when they go through the toy drawers - for whatever they want to play with next - which changes approximately every three minutes. Then, the fact that I'm able to see them becomes the game, and a new round of peek-a-boo begins. Here, Liam's caught me looking:
However, he's not in the mood for the game ...but here comes Morgan, running along the gate at the bottom of the stairs, to 'surprise' me with a "Boo!" on the other side. Liam looks amused that the game is on.
and here's a good shot of the two of them obviously planning their next peek-a-boo strategy.
While I've expressed some sadness over the loss of the 'baby', I'm very happy to see such a beautiful boy emerge.

...But No Bears Yet.

2007-08-29T15:40:00.000-04:00

I have no idea why she wouldn't let go of the bucket (maybe she was feeding them?), but here's Morgan in a series of pictures with the twins' Lion and Tiger. It's lots of fun watching Morgan drag the Tiger around (it's her favourite of the 'big' stuffed toys), because, as you can see, it's bigger than she is. The third picture shows her doing her 'growl'. A bit of an explanation on that: Morgan is a little obsessive right now with a cartoon featuring a character named 'Diego'. Diego is a cutely-drawn Hispanic boy who saves animals and teaches Spanish words through each episode to the show's young viewing audience.

Canada could learn a lesson or two from this popular show by putting together something that might help teach its young children French through a similar form of entertainment. I remember a show called Chez Helene from my youth which attempted as much, and there was once a series of Sesame Street episodes which had the 'Spanish lessons' segments of the program replaced with French lessons, but those episodes seem to be out of circulation now.
Anyway, Morgan is getting a little too adamant in her Diego addiction, crying loudly when we won't drop the Diego DVD Mommy bought (yes, she probably now regrets that purchase just a bit) in the player. "Daygo! Daygo!" Our little whiner then has to settle for some lesser cartoon hero who at one time had an equal footing in her psyche - until something about little Diego took hold.

All that having been said, one of the cuter things she does is something she picked up from a Diego episode, where Diego prompted his viewers to growl like his little pet Jaguar, aptly named "Baby Jaguar". Now, when I want to be entertained by it, I'll say, "Morgan! Reeowr! Reeowr!" and she'll respond with her little - and very cute - "Reeowr! Reeowr!" This picture provides the visual.

By the way, this is another instance where a series of pictures looks 'posed', but wasn't. Morgan rounded up the big cats all by herself, and then snuggled in between them. I was just lucky enough to be in the room and near the camera before the scene changed, and the scene is always changing quickly.
Her pronunciation of 'tiger' also gets better by the day.
OH! ...and I wanted to add this one. I love her eyes.

Full Swing

2007-08-15T14:23:00.000-04:00

This past Saturday marked the first day in a very long time that I carried the twins down the stairs together for breakfast. If you've been here a bit, you may remember me writing that my favourite thing was getting them ready for daycare every day, and the most fun part of that for me was scooping them up from their cribs and carrying them downstairs. When I went in for hip replacement surgery in June, I feared that I'd never have the opportunity to do that again, for a number of reasons.
First, they're not very far from the age when they'll be able to negotiate their own way down the stairs (with supervision, of course). Even at this point, we let them crawl up the stairs for bed at night, while following closely behind them - in case either of them loses their balance. It's become a racing event, however, and we always have to tell Liam to slow down (and he always has to be first to the top. I have no idea where he gets his competitive streak).
Second, they're not light anymore. When I started doing this every morning, they were a little smaller, and a little easier to carry. Liam's 30 pounds now, and Morgan's 24, so that's 54 squirming pounds to carry down the stairs. Still, having them in that kind of proximity to kiss them on their little faces on the way downstairs is worth it.
Third, I just didn't know how soon I'd be 'back'...but the hip surgery has been a bit of a miracle. Back to work in just under five weeks, and now carting the babyload down the stairs in just under eight? Considering the crush of responsibility at work that has been keeping me from getting to physiotherapy, things really couldn't be better.

But the best news of recent days is that Janne is employed at a Law Office in Brantford. It's a better kind of gig for her, too, because things were getting stale from a challenge perspective at her last job, and her commute (almost a staple of life in Southern Ontario, unfortunately) is now all of six minutes. Awesome. Although she'll miss the folks at her old job, I'm sure they'll probably head out to lunch once a month or so, plus half of them are on Facebook, so there's that.
Her new job, which started Monday, was the catalyst to get me back to my morning duties before our mutually-agreed-upon three month recuperation period was up. Mind you, I've been getting up early for the last little while to help get the kids fed and out the door with Janne, and she'd drop them off on her way to whatever temp job or interview she may have been heading, but after this past Monday morning's experience almost giving me a heart attack from worry - trying to get her out the door so she wouldn't be late on her first day at the new job, (we won't discuss Janne's genetic predisposition to being late at this juncture. She reads this, after all) I decided I needed to step up, to free her up from baby responsibilities. After all, she had to do everything by herself while I was convalescing for five or six weeks. Considering she was going through being laid off from her job of the last 9 years, plus trying to find a new one, plus coming to visit me for the first week of those five or six, she did amazingly well...so it's the least I can do.
Okay - so kidlet pics.
This was from their first morning stuck with Dear Old Dad carrying them downstairs, serving breakfast, changing diapers, dressing them in colour-co-ordinated clothing, and driving them to daycare. (Got there at 10 sharp, as advertised.) Looks like they were getting along, eh?

Here's one demonstrating the great job the baby gates are doing from keeping the two of them from cracking their cute little heads open...
Sorry, Morgan, you can't back your brother down the stairs.
Maybe when you're older, and I'm not looking.

These two are kinda fun. Janne decided to try to organize the toys the way our daycare provider does, in drawers. She bought a plastic three-drawer thing which is so easy to disassmble, a 20-month-old can do it! Turns out the twins would rather try carpet surfing in the drawers than use them for their intended purpose. But that's babies, right?

***Bit of an update - Friday, August 17/07 - Just got back from my surgeon's office, and the usually subdued doctor used the following to describe my post-op progress:
"awesome" - "incredible" - "excellent" - "you're a star"

That felt good. Every day, everything feels just a little bit better.

My Summer Vacation

2007-08-13T00:36:00.000-04:00

Everybody gets summer vacation, right?
N.G. Bob, Nat, Ma, T, Maria, Kitty, Milky - Did I leave anybody out?

Oh, right. Me.

Since I had five weeks off (and hey, I could have taken six, as far as my surgeon was concerned) from June 12 to July 16 for hip replacement surgery (and yes, that's a very fast recovery. If I live to see grandchildren, I will be bragging about it to them), I feel that asking for time off through the summer, the way radio staffs are so limited in size these days, would just be - I don't know - uncool.
By the way, since I'm 50, I'm allowed to use uncool.
My generation coined it.
So, for fun - and because I'm really only a tenth of my age when measured on the Maturity Scale - I thought I'd create a virtual vacation for myself...one which would be expensive to duplicate, and one to make you envious of its dynamic scope and far-reaching-ed-ness. Do-lotsa-stuff-ed-ness.
Never mind.
So, here's me. Thanks to T, I found I could turn myself into an M&M at their website. Yes, I chose to look like this, for the purposes of this exercise and this holiday. I personally think the smirk is eerily accurate.

However - since you should never take your guitar on holiday unless you have a paid gig, or you're planning on playing it around a campfire, (which can be annoying if the other people around the campfire really don't want you playing it, and remember - they will eventually need more wood for the campfire, so...), I chose this look instead:
It's actually always good to bring a microphone on vacation, especially if you're traveling with your family. For instance - if you're talking, and they interrupt - as my family often does - you just have to turn yourself up, and drown them out. It might annoy them, but you've already left your guitar home, for goodness sake. How many sacrifices are you expected to make?

And so, on with the trip.
Of course, the rental broke down, so I had to hitchhike - but at least the weather was nice.
The blaster doubles as a karaoke machine, and since I was miles out on the ocean with it, no one knew how badly I was singing. That whole 'tree falls in the forest' theory thing.
I should have tied the shoelaces. I wiped out badly a couple of times. Great thing is, when you're this colour? You don't get sunburned.
Of course, had to do the nerdy thing...find a street named 'John'. Mr. Excitement, or what? Notice how I'm standing in the shadow of the lamp post, yet I'm not casting a shadow? This blue sunblock is amazing!
The rental company were very generous when they found out the trouble I had with their car. Check out the ride home. I look like I'm on Spaceship Idol or somethin'.
Luckily for me, the spaceship driver was very accomodating, and - since we were up there - I managed to talk him into taking me to the one place I've wanted to visit since the seventeenth time I saw Spinal Tap. Bet no one ever thinks to actually land on top of it to get their touristy photos. Nyah, nyah, other tourists!
Sadly, all vacations must come to and end, unless you win the lottery (and Lottery God, if you're reading this, please make it happen this Wednesday). Actually, the saddest part about coming back is that I'll walk into work Monday morning, and three quarters of the sales staff won't even know I was gone.

New pictures of the twins will be coming shortly, as soon as I find some bandages and some of that grindstone injury ointment for my nose.

Am I Just A Sentimentalist?

2007-08-03T14:33:00.000-04:00

A story landed in my email inbox today - one of those that might touch you, but you don't really know if you should forward it - or if you do, you only forward it to those people you perceive to have 'big hearts'. For instance, many of my male friends might think I'd gone soft in the head if I sent it along to them, even though we're all about the same age, and all of us should be well over the need to act tough or devil-may-care. However, many of my friends have children, and will indeed understand and recognize the importance of this story in the same manner I do.

As a matter of fact (I'm terrible with asides), I can relate to the following story on another level. I wasn't a very good baseball player when I was very young, and when I first went out to play "organized" baseball, I had a coach who wouldn't put me in a game - until I finally left near the end of a game - in (what felt to me like) shame, with my Dad. The coach sent one of the other players after me when he saw me leaving - to tell me that he was planning on putting me in the game in the final inning. I said, "No, that's okay", and left anyway, knowing the coach was probably just embarrassed having my father witness his prejudice against me. I never went back to that team, but I had many successful years in organized Little League baseball in the years to follow. I never forgave that coach, however, nor would I ever credit him with making me a better ball player by treating me like crap. I learned how to play better baseball on my own, without any help from him. Worse yet, he was a schoolteacher by profession.

Okay, enough preamble.

Well, not quite. I also don't really care if the following story is true, because we need to be reminded every once in a while of the importance of love between human beings. I did not forward this story by email, by the way. Instead, I'll give you the opportunity to do so by copying it from this page, and sending it to all your friends, if you like.
For me - well - I just pray that my son and daughter will have the kind of beautiful souls and good sense to do what the boys in this story do. Here you are, in the same form I received it (...in other words, everything that follows was not written by yours truly, and I don't know the origin.):
--------------------------
Subject: Choices
Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one.
Read it anyway.
My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay - physically and mentally handicapped - comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child."

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his challenges.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field, and asked - not expecting much - if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs, and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team, and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball - the smallest guy on their team - who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay , Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay!"

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!"

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, "Shay, run home! Run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

"That day," said the father softly, with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world".

Shay didn't make it to another summer.

He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

FOOTNOTE:
We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the "natural order of things." So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats its least fortunate amongst them.

May your day be a Shay Day
-------------------------------------------

Out In The New Backyard

2007-07-24T14:07:00.000-04:00

Well, we have a lawn now...finally...and it's fun just trying to keep the thing alive. I'm guessing our development is the only one in Southern Ontario where the neighbours are happy when it rains, so we all don't have to pay through the nose for all the water we have to use to keep our grass green.
But we've been here since late November, and it's nice to finally be able to look out and see a yard, rather than mounds of dirt when it's dry, and mud when it ain't - not to mention the Tim Horton's and Wendy's garbage that the construction workers left strewn everywhere. Actually, somebody left an old pair of painter pants (some actual painter's pants, as opposed to the ones you buy at Old Navy) on our front lawn. In a bit of a hurry to get home, were you, buddy?
Anyway, when Liam and Morgan are outside in the new yard, they're a little hard to corral at this point. It's recommended that one does not add a fence or deck for a year after the sod has been dropped, so that everything's settled. The other issue for us is that the final phase of the development is just behind us, and they're still at the construction stage, ergo a couple of stages away from connecting our future backyard neighbours' (God, please make them nice people) sod to ours.
So, I've trimmed all the background construction, half-built houses and dirt from these two shots to show you how much the twins are enjoying being outside. Yes, each have their own ball. That's a necessity with twins. Of course, the babies also don't recognize the assumed borders of our property, so we're almost constantly chasing them to bring them back to the safety of our space...but it's fun. Maybe I should invest in some bungee cords.(Click on these first two pictures. They look much better in large format.)
As a matter of fact, I'll be off to buy a 'corn-popper' today, due to the fact that we only have one, and it almost always becomes an issue. You'd know what a corn-popper is if you're exposed to kids at all. It's like a little lawnmower that - when you push or pull it by its handle - makes popping sounds, while little coloured balls whirl around under its plastic dome 'engine'. Liam could care less about dolls (so Morgan has full access to the twin dolls her mother bought recently), but he's a huge fan of the 'corn-popper'...to the point of distraction, actually. Problem is, Morgan's always trying to take it from him, and a second corn-popper might alleviate stress levels, both for the twins, and the ones their parents feel when the babies start getting territorial about their toys (terriTOYrial? never mind). When I say Liam's interest in the corn-popper is to the point of distraction, I'm not kidding. He's caused himself some semi-serious injury through his obsession. He'll drag the thing behind him, and turn to watch the little balls bang around under the plastic dome, with NO regard for where he's going - and he's TWICE (so much for learning your lesson the first time) banged his head really hard on the stair's railing post...and you immediately know he's hit it really hard, because his reaction isn't instant. He's actually stunned himself on both occasions, and there's a beat of eerie silence about two seconds long before he reacts - rather negatively - to the unpleasant bump on the head he's given himself. It's excruciating as a parent to witness. In one week, the twins will be 20 months old, so it's still a little hard to explain why (instead of celebrating his unbridled enthusiasm) he has to be careful. "Careful playing? What's that all about, Dad?" So, tonight when I get home from work, I will be baby-proofing the offending stair rail posts. I already did this for the bottom 12 inches of the posts many months ago when we moved in, but the twins are walking and running now, and their beautiful little heads now face danger at a different altitude.

Liam did manage to figure out this problem, though:
He somehow got one of their toy watering cans (from their Aunt Janette) around his ankle. Lately, both Liam and Morgan are showing an interest in putting just about anything that fits -onto their feet. His expression shows just a touch of his initial panic with the situation.
However, I stayed calm, snapped these pictures, and he settled down. He eventually figured out how to get it back off on his own. (I especially like Morgan's "Huh?" expression in the second picture. Did we wake you, kid? Is the room spinning?)

Back to our day in the backyard, for a couple of reasons. One of the best things that happens to me on any given day is when Morgan and Liam decide they want to sit with me and watch TV. This picture's from the end of our day outside. Morgan likes to curl up beside me to my right, while Liam just likes to climb right on top of me. It is one of the best feelings I've ever had, and the only reason I don't seem to be conveying that in this picture is because I was the only member of the family not smart enough to apply SPF on myself before sitting in the sun. I'd forgotten how painful sunburns can be, since it's been at least a decade since I've had one, and I had to ask Janne to drop into Shopper's and buy me some Solarcaine - which stinks, by the way. I won't be using that stuff again. Got any suggestions for alternative sunburn relief? (and don't say, "Stay out of the sun," or, "Wear SPF." Only my wife gets to talk to me like that.)

This picture also reminds me of Ma H.'s comment a while ago about my having found peace. Yes, it's peace, but it's so much more, too. I may have to invent a word...because I don't yet have one in my vocabulary to capture the feeling.

The Battle For Control Of The Fortress Of Solitude

2007-07-10T11:58:00.000-04:00

I mentioned in my last post how Morgan loves to enter the red toy bin and use it as her Fortress Of Solitude. Well, Liam decided he wanted to see what the big deal was, and it became - A TURF WAR!

Yes, as the pictures will prove, there was a battle for control of the Fortress Of Solitude. Now, Morgan has been known on many occasions to rip toys out of Liam's hands while he's playing with them. Liam has a tendency - at least, to this point - to not fight back, but instead to whine and cry a little, and then move on to another toy, giving up on that which initially was making him happy.
HOWEVER - Just the other day, he made (what I consider) a brilliant move in his favour, which I witnessed from my vantage point on the 'recovery couch'...
Liam had been playing with some nesting blocks. First, you need to know how much he likes these things. Janne noticed they were a favourite of his when she spotted him almost always running to them every day when she'd drop him off at daycare. So, we got some for him to play with at home.
On this occasion, Morgan (as usual) sees Liam enjoying himself, and decides to break up his fun by grabbing either some or all of the blocks out of his hands, and taking them to another part of the room. Sometimes, she just drops them somewhere so he can't have them momentarily, while on others she'll hoard them so he can't just walk over and pick them back up from wherever she's stashed them. This time, she has chosen to move them to the centre of the room, and continues to play with them.
Here's the good part. Liam, in his wisdom, grabs a ride-on car from within her view. The ride-on car is one of her favourites, and she often pushes it around, rides on it, or sometimes even puts other toys on it, and will taxi them around the living room. Liam pulls the car behind her, as if he's going to the other end of the room. Morgan turns, gives Liam a nudge, and in one motion pushes his hand off the rear handle of the car, and grabs it herself. Liam, completely unfazed by this, walks away from Morgan and the car, circles back to the nesting blocks on the floor, and picks them up - and all is right in his world again.
My son, at the tender age of 19 months, and through his own ingenuity-bred-through-necessity, has learned - and successfully perfomed - the bait-and-switch.

Maybe his entrance to Morgan's Fortress Of Solitude is another way of expressing that he's not going to stand by and take it anymore, or maybe he was just curious to see what was so special about it. In any case, here are the rest of the Fortress Battle pictures, including Janne's intervention when Morgan started getting too upset. Morgan will often sit on Liam and not let him up (and he doesn't fight back - at least, he hasn't yet), or she'll just start slapping him in the head. No, I'm not kidding.

And another thing...
They both like to 'portage' their foam chairs around the living room (they walk while holding them over their heads, as if carrying a canoe over land), and have recently decided that they want to sit where Mummy and Daddy usually sit - except, on their own chairs. Neither Janne nor myself placed the chairs on the couch for them. Although we can offer no photographic proof, this is something they do on their own. I have named this picture after one of their favourite TV shows, Big Comfy Couch.

FINALLY -
Thanks for asking, Bob, and - for anyone else who's been wondering - my surgeon told me yesterday at the fracture clinic that my recovery progress is "better than most", (bearing in mind that he has replaced the hip of a 39-year-old former CFL'er, among others) and I suspect I may make it back to work early - as in, next Monday, a week sooner than expected. Not bad, eh? ...just five weeks after surgery.

And Now, Back To The Babes

2007-06-29T17:10:00.000-04:00

When I came home from the hospital on the 16th of this month, the saddest thing was Morgan's reaction to me. She didn't want to have anything to do with me. Liam greeted me with his usual big smile from ear to ear, and let me cuddle and squish him, but I think Morgan might have been scared of the fact that I was in bed, and appeared the way I did (really pale and weak-looking)...but, whatever the reason was, she wanted nothing to do with me, and she ran for her mother's arms crying, which was more than a little heartbreaking for me. I had only been gone from Tuesday to Saturday. Things are fine again now - probably because I'm a little more mobile, and getting stronger - but it was touch and go for the first few days back home. I had, of course, missed them both terribly, so not receiving the same enthusiastic response for seeing me again - as I had displayed for reuniting with her - was almost overwhelming in its hurt.

But here we are, back to what we call normal. This is Morgan doing - as Janne and I call it - her "Queen Of Sweden" thing. In both home and away colours, of course.
For peek-a-boo, for wearing as a cape...it's just so versatile.
A friend of mine from back home in Eastern Passage (Halifax, Nova Scotia, for those not familiar with the many microcosms surrounding it) had moved away for a couple of years to Australia. While there, they sent us these t-shirts for the twins.
It's a year later, and the babies have finally grown into them. (Although Liam looks like he's found an escape route, he's actually looking at his circus-mirror-like reflection in the doorknob.)

Speaking of Liam, here he is "re-arranging" the clothing, diapers, and assorted bibs, towels and facecloths from underneath the change table. Even though this is a regular occurence, we, like robot/zombie parents, continue to pick everything up and put it back neatly, thinking that a momentary detention in "The Pen" for the offending culprit(s) will discourage such re-arranging from happening again.Hasn't deterred anyone in the least to this point, however. Maybe one of the reasons is that, after a moment of resistance and whining, they realize that they quite like being in the pen, thank you very much, and obviously really like each other, too. They are the best of friends...although Liam looks like he's maybe had a few too many Jell-o shots in this one.
A while back, I posted a picture of Morgan and Liam standing in their red toy tub. I had 'posed' it by lowering them carefully into it to 'create the cuteness', but the red toy tub (never the blue one, however) has now become a regular thing with Morgan. It's like a Fortress of Solitude for her, and she'll play with a couple of blocks or read a book while in there.
They turn 19 months old on the 30th...and, through some of their actions recently, have begun to prepare us for what other parents call the "terrible two's"...but they're still a ton of fun, and very socially skilled - and talking more every day. More on some of the new words later.

Here they are, doing what they love best, just hangin' out and being the really cool babies that they are.

Bone Hammer

2007-06-26T14:03:00.000-04:00

Say it with me. "Bone hammer".

The oversexed among us might laugh at the term, but probably only until I add "bone saw" to the equation. Imagine this statement: "Scalpel - scissors - bone hammer - bone saw - how many units of blood on stand-by?"
I can only assume words like those are expressed before a major operation for a hip replacement, but I'm pretty sure seasoned professionals like the ones who worked on my left hip two weeks ago (12/06/07) are fully prepared without having to do an aural inventory of the necessary tools for the procedure. I can also only assume the events that took place, because I was already unconscious, my head resting on the shoulder of O.R. nurse Claudia, as she had instructed me, while a spinal block needle was inserted into my back by the anaesthetist, who - only moments before - had explained to me that he would be administering both an anaesthetic to make me sleep, plus the spinal block to help stay "ahead of the pain" in post-op. I didn't realize, however, that the drugs to make me sleep, administered intravenously, would have me out before I even felt the spinal block needle. It was also not like a general anaesthetic, where you wake up in the recovery room all groggy and (sometimes) nauseated. I woke up from the surgery like a shot - wide awake, fully alert, and well aware of the A-shaped hard foam slab that was strapped between my legs, keeping them angled in such a way that I couldn't do damage to the work recently completed by my surgeon.

Don't know if you're familiar with this process, known as the complete surgical replacement of the hip (my left one, in this case), and if you don't care to be familiar with it, it's best to stop reading - but it's more or less as follows:
After about a 10-inch-long incision has been made down the side of my thigh, the ball at the end of my left thighbone (femur) has to be dislodged from its resting place inside its cupped socket (acetabulum). In my case, It's not exactly a 'resting place', however. Years of osteoarthritis have the ball at about twice its normal size, and virtually jammed into the socket, restricting my movement, and causing constant pain.
Once the ball is dislodged from the socket, it is cut off with a bone saw, and a titanium shaft is hammered down into the femur (all our bones are hollow, which is what makes this possible). Then, a solid ceramic ball is attached to the end of the titanium shaft.
On the acetabulum (cup) side of the hip joint, the area inside the cup is smoothed out, and any leftover bits of cartilage (in my case, probably none) are removed, and a concave cup is inserted (banged in really tightly is more like it). Then, there's apparently some time and effort spent popping the ball in and out of the cup to ensure a proper fit, but none of the parts are cemented in place. There is a cemented version of this procedure, but my surgeon feels, at my age (which is young for a hip replacement) the non-cemented variety is the best option. The human body takes about three months to 'accept' and grow around its new parts, and there are quite a number of restrictions on movement which must be obeyed, or there's a serious risk of "popping the ball", which would cause a kind of pain I don't care to ever experience.

How did I get here, at 50 years old?
I was a candidate for this surgery many years ago. I've just been putting it off until I turned 50. I was originally diagnosed with mild to moderate osteoarthritis of the left hip joint when I was in my early 30's, when a series of x-rays had been ordered due to the pain and inflammation from which I was suffering. At the time, there were also signs of osteophytes and scarring in the right hip joint.

From the time I was old enough to walk, I loved to run. I used to win all the races in the schoolyard. I was always a second faster than any kid in my school. I could fly. I wasn't a focused or trained runner, however. I would just whip on the shoes and go. I oncemarked off 2.5 km with spray paint on the back road from our house, and I would run to that spot and return home, and would compete against my best time almost every day. I was the fastest halfback on my football team. I even ran a race on a cruise ship in the Caribbean (my only "international" victory), winning after many laps around the promenade of the luxury vessel on a very hot day at sea. Obviously, running was something I loved, because, let's face it - not a whole lot of people spend their cruise ship vacation running around the promenade deck at breakneck speed. They're usually too busy eating, sunning, or gambling.
Over the years, I also took my running to work. I had a sporting goods store sponsor on my race gear, and I even won a Canada Day road race at which I was also the master of ceremonies. It's funny, presenting a trophy to yourself.

Now, this is the time when the author is supposed to say, "Then, one day…"
Well, in truth, my "one day" moment had happened many years before many of these events. Early into my running, I had developed a 'click' over my left hip. A 'snapping' feeling occurred when I walked, caused by what is now known as "I.T. band syndrome"…The iliotibial band runs up the side of the leg from the knee to the hip. The main muscular feature of the iliotibial band is the 'tensor fascia lata' muscle (meaning "tense wide band"), and the connective tissue of the iliotibial band is what joins all of this to the knee and hip. Mine, simply put, had shortened. I did all the prescribed stretches from many physiotherapy experts over the years to increase my range, but they didn't help much - because I wouldn't stop running. Eventually, I had to get shots in my hips for the pain, and when you start using steroids (cortisone) to mask your pain, you're in deeper trouble. Continuing to run is the main reason why I am where I am today. Basically, the shortened I.T. band was pulling the ball of my femur tighter and tighter into the acetabulum, and, in doing so, it was grinding away all the natural lubricants and cartilage my hip joints were born with, until the surfaces were simply bone-on-bone.
The ball of the femur continued to grow by developing scar tissue and bone spurs on its surface, and therefore scarring the inside of the acetabulum, and things eventually came to a grinding halt - or should have, at least, but somehow, even with the pain, I managed to keep a small range of motion and the ability to walk (but not much else). I have spoken to a number of people (all of them older than me) who've had the procedure, who told me that their joint had actually fused before they got to surgery. Because I had chosen to keep moving through playing sports (I haven't even mentioned being a goaltender in hockey most of my life in this missive), I was able to keep moving, and I built up quite a tolerance for pain. However, when I could no longer move from a seated position to a standing one with my sleeping 27-pound baby boy in my arms, it was time to see my surgeon.
I'm already really sick of being in bed. See how happy I look?

When he came in to see me on Saturday (16/06/07) morning to release me early from hospital, due to the rapid improvement I had made over the four days post-surgery, my surgeon told me he was surprised by the amount of damage and "trouble" he encountered the previous Tuesday morning. He called the ball, "very large", and stated that, "obviously, this made the procedure more difficult, but we were successful".
In layman's terms, I think that means that he had to take a few extra swings with the bone hammer.

I'd Like Another 50 More, Please

2007-06-03T19:44:00.000-04:00

Thank you so much to -
Mom (she's actually my wife's Mom, but she is so much my Mom that it could never cover the realm of emotion, or what she means to me, to refer to her as my mother-in-law), Lene, the perpetually lovely Michele, Ken, to Steve and Cheryl, Claire and Fraser, Janette and Carol, and Liza, Dylan (I can't believe how big you are, Dyl!) and Anthony, to my children - and, of course, my beautiful wife, who was responsible for bringing it all together, for a great celebration of my "big 5-0".
I'm sorry that Leslie and Dave, Rebecca and Jamie, Natalie and Rob, Sue - with her girls Paris and Ella, Nick and Lorena, Shelly and Anthony, Lee-Anne and Bruce ,and Robyn couldn't make it, because they missed a great time, and it would have been wonderful to have them all there.
We were at a private room in the HotHouse in Toronto (which just happens to be the very same restaurant upon which a big group of us - a 'herd excursion' - descended the night I met Janne, actually). The food was great, the cake was (specially ordered by Mom) amazing, and I couldn't have asked for a warmer or more fun way to say good-bye to my forties. Liam and Morgan, even though both suffering a little from colds, were fantastically behaved (Janne and I continue to marvel at what angels they become under public scrutiny) and had some fun themselves, but were pretty tuckered by the end of the celebration. Ken turned out to be particularly adept at getting Morgan to go to sleep, with which we were all pretty darn impressed. Gonna have to get him some bus passes for trips to Brantford, and have him babysit a bit!
Fifty years has not flown by. As a matter of fact, some of those years were excruciatingly slow, and I'm glad to be done with them. I'm a pretty youthful 50, though - except for my hips - but that's another story, coming soon. With everything I now enjoy in my life, I hope I get another 50, and that they go s-l-o-w enough to enjoy every minute. I know they won't, but it's my wish.
...and might I add, I blew out all my candles in one go (no surprise to many re: Blowhard Ability), so I've got a big wish coming to me, I believe.
Thank you all again for being there. I hope we're all close enough to each other when my 60th rolls around so I can say, "Go ahead, make my day. Again."

p.s. The pictures that follow are all Lene's. Janne has some, too. I'll download them later.

Mom (Mormor) was in her element with her grandbabies.
The baby's gone, replaced by a little boy.
It's easy to see it's Janne from whom my children get their cuteness. Don't know if you can read my button, but it says, "I've survived damn near everything." Couldn't be more appropriate. Thanks, Steve and Cheryl.
Liam has very quickly learned how to mimic his father's expressions.
"This party circuit can be such a bore."
My daughter's hilarious. I call this one "Reader's Digest".
Ah, the "surprised" face. It's never one to write home about.
Morgan wants a balloon. (She can have the '50th' one if she wants...)
The cake really was amazing. The part that looks like it's blowing up was a '5' and '0' going up in sparkling flames. Thanks for that. ;-)
...and we're done. Ken looks on proudly at the sleepy states he has induced.

My Two Lives

2007-05-24T18:47:00.000-04:00

This post is not to say I'm leading a double life, or that I lead two different lives concurrently. Actually, I simply survived my first life. I lost my parents early, with my Mom dying when I was 13, and my Dad contracting leukemia seven years later, and then dying just after I had turned 28. I was not a responsible parentless child. I lived the life of a rock star without ever having really been one by 'living hard' on the road with my band, and then continuing the lifestyle long after I gave up on the music career. I never really lost the chip on my shoulder over not making it to the level of success that I (and the other very talented musicians in the band) felt we should have achieved, had we had an honest management company who was looking out for us rather than themselves. I carried that into my next job, and had plenty of attitude to go around for my second attempt at success, this time in radio. (Luckily for me, I found a book called Late Bloomers, by Brendan Gill, about many people who had found great success in the 'second half' of their lives.) The radio career went very well for a while, partly because I approached it with great passion, and because I acted as if I would not be denied - but it seemed nothing was good enough for me, and I believe the people (both) with (and for) whom I worked sensed that from me, and I was sent packing. I really didn't deserve to lose my job, because I worked very hard and tried to do everything right, but my aggressive must-climb-the-ladder-constantly attitude alienated me from my co-workers, and I was ostracized for my acute focus on perfectionism, and "wore out my welcome with random precision", as a great rock band once wrote.
Turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me, though.
My hometown was a small enough place that there was really no staying there for me after losing my job, if I was going to get back to making a decent living in the same profession. Maybe part of my intent to stay in pursuit of a successful radio career was partly because my brain had gotten too lazy to think of doing anything else for a living. However, I was coming up on 40, and I hadn't found any books with evidence of people having successful third careers, so I packed up and moved everything from my first 40 years westward about 1215 miles (according to mapquest) or so...and met my wife shortly after setting up camp in my new city.
...Looking back, that marked the beginning of my new - second - life.
I didn't recognize it as such at the time, even though I've told her many times since we met that she saved my life. Certainly, as happy as I was that my old friend Jim MacLeod had given me a job here to move toward, it wasn't the job that saved my life. A few years after moving here, Jim moved on from the station, and I was laid off from that job, replaced by a satellite feed. That moment was the only one since my move that gave me pause to wonder if I had made a mistake by uprooting myself from a home that I loved, and at a time in my life when few would dare try to start all over again if they could avoid it.
A moment later, I remembered Janne, realizing that if I hadn't moved, we wouldn't have met, and it was then that I knew I'd somehow work out this new problem. Still not recognizing that every breath I was taking was indeed part of my new life, God decided to step in, and gave us children. Janne would argue that medical science had more of a hand in it than God.
She had always wanted children. At least, after she saw what a joy they were for many of her friends, it was her deepest wish. In my old life, I was too selfish to have children. They would have cramped my style. Spoiled by having been able to spend every waking moment for too many years doing whatever the Hell I wanted, I knew all too well that children would dramatically change that. I knew what kind of a commitment they would be, and I was never ready.
Certainly, losing my job changed our immediate plans, because it would have been irresponsible to bring children into such a situation - but about six months later I returned to work under the new ownership of the same radio stations I had moved here to work for. It felt like a tenuous relationship for the first few months back, but I just kept at it, and I think I'm in a good place now.

...But back to my new life.

We - and I say we, because Janne was the first person to ever make me feel comfortable with the idea of being a father - tried and failed a few times to start a family, so we found the reasons why it wasn't working, and got some help from medical science. (You already know most of that if you've read this blog from the beginning.) There were scary moments at first, but I always knew in my heart that the babies would be okay...and, of course, they're far more than just 'okay'.
Liam and Morgan are the people who finally made me realize that this is my second life, and my chance to have a kind of happiness - after many years of bitterness and disappointment - that you simply can't know unless you have children. Sadly (and some parents who read this will understand), there are even some parents who still don't know the bliss of being a parent, because they haven't given themselves up to it. They're still thinking of themselves first.
This realization of this second chance at life gets stronger every day for me for a variety of reasons, but most recently, it was the first time my little girl hugged me - full on, and unprovoked. I hadn't asked for a hug. She just took it upon herself to wrap her little arms as far as she could around my neck. It was a beautiful, breathtaking moment like nothing I've ever experienced.
People can tell you over and over that if you put love out there, you will get love back, and many times over you may try, and get nothing. You could even get to the point where you might stop believing that the idea has any truth in it. Well, anybody who has read anything I've written here knows how I feel about my children, and I will guarantee you - that if you have a child, or are even luckier, like us, and have two at a time, and you dedicate yourself to loving them, you will get love back like never before. It will overwhelm you, and it will be like nothing you have ever experienced. And no matter how old you are, you will feel like your life has begun again, and you've been given a second chance.

On top of all that, (try to disregard the mess on her face, and) check out the way my babies look at me. How can you not be lovin' life when you get ogled like this?
I love it when either of them get in my face, of course.
Although Janne and I initially planned to not shower her with this colour when she came into our lives, Morgan had plans of her own. She's definitely a 'pink' girl - and has converted us.
I call this one "Bobsled team"...
I catch Liam doing this all too often. He thinks the rocking chair is a surfboard. As a parent, you can only tell a 1.5 year-old child so many times that he or she is going to hurt themselves if they're not careful, then spend the rest of the time agonzing and hoping that you'll be there for them the first time they fall.
...and I don't have words for this one.

Celebration - or Thanksgiving?

2007-05-11T16:19:00.000-04:00

So, we were on TV again. The family, that is.
Same time of year we were on TV last year, and again for the same great hospital which helped bring our sweet little babies into the world.

"Celebration" is what they (CH-TV in Hamilton) are calling it these days, but - for a great many years - it was the 'Mother's Day Telethon for McMaster Children's Hospital'.
They moved it up by one weekend chronologically, and changed the name to reflect the mood of the gathering of all of the monies from Children's Miracle Network 'Miracle Club' Memberships, donations, and corporate contributions from the calendar year, and then celebrating the grand
total on the good old tote board.

No matter when they hold it, or what they call it, I will always want to be there, because it brings me back to Earth, and reminds me how very lucky Janne and I are to have these healthy, incredible children to light up our every moment...and how lucky I am to have had this facility and its great doctors and nurses look after Janne in hospital for more than five weeks before the twins were born.

Janne wasn't expecting me to thrust the microphone in her face almost as soon as we were on camera, and have her answer the first question from my co-hosts, but she responded at the spur of the moment better than I ever could have, and I've been doing this kind of stuff for over twenty years. Plus, she's way cuter than me.

Speaking of which, I was noticing how round-as-a-balloon my head has become, and it is even more inspiration to start my friend Tosca Reno's "Eat Clean Diet" - more of a lifestyle, really, and you can find out more at www.eatcleandiet.com.
Honestly, look at my frickin' head. Tie a string around my neck, and I look just like the balloons on the set behind me, albeit with (hopefully) a little more substance and a little less air inside.

So, now - the serious part.
The part over which my sister-in-law, Lene, can't understand why I'm not openly sobbing on camera. This year, rather than stand there and shake hands and accept cheques from generous contributors and applaud their gifts, I was asked to be in the 'patient interview' studio, which was set up in a different room away from the din in the lobby of the Hospital. First of all, I was humbled and honoured to do it, because I prefer to talk to the parents and children who have been affected by the care, warmth, understanding and incredible expertise and knowledge of this hospital's staff - and to help illustrate the reasons that we're raising money for this great facility.
Second, every time I meet parents and children who have needed this oasis of love, compassion, and the perfect blend of treatment and personal attention, I am reminded again of my incredible luck.

I mean, look at them. They're perfect. I stole this picture from Lene's Seated View blog (you can click on her blog just to the right of this column, under Links).

Now, look at this lovely bundle of fun. She's six months old, and already weighs more than my 17-month old Morgan. Man, she is cute.

She was also born a twin.

Her mother, Kathy - after only six months of having to deal with losing one of her twin baby girls - made a point of coming into the hospital to tell her story on television, and to speak about the care she received from the staff - doctors, nurses, social workers, et al, and how they helped her through the two short hours she had to spend with her other twin daughter.
While she was pregnant, it was discovered that one of her twin babies had a condition from which she could - and would - not recover, and that there was a strong possibility that the baby would be born dead. When it came time to deliver her twins, Kathy was told that they were both alive, and that it turned out she might have a little time to share with the twin daughter she would not be taking home. So, because it was a brain-related condition that would take her twin daughter's life, and the condition meant that the poor baby's head was misshapen, the nurses in the best Neonatal Intensive Care Unit in the country wrapped the little girl in blankets, and put a pretty hat on her head, and presented her to her Mommy, and also gave the newly born beauty you see above the chance to spend a few moments with her sister outside the womb, after having shared the last nine months inside it with her.

Now, I want you to consider how raw your emotions would be if, only six months before your face was in front of television cameras to speak about your ordeal, you had gone through this. How much would it have to matter to you - to tell the world about this miraculous place - to bear your soul so soon after facing that kind of heartbreak? I applaud your bravery, Kathy, and am so proud to have been the person to help you bring your story to light.

And then, while talking to her, this happened.

This beautiful bundle of joy reached for my microphone, so I stuck out my 'baby finger' toward her (the most appropriate time to be so named in my almost 50 years of having fingers) ...and she hung on. As a matter of fact, through the rest of our conversation, I'd wiggle my baby finger, and she would play, sometimes moving to other fingers. I will never forget that little bundle of pure joy.
Afterward, I thought, "This little girl is going to give her Mommy so much love. Kathy's going to be all right." Happy Mother's Day, Kathy, and thank you again.

I managed to keep from crying until I was somewhere in the middle of my drive home to my beautiful family in Brantford, when I once again thought of Kathy, her lovely baby girl holding my finger, and wishing that we lived in that perfect world where she could grow up, as she should, knowing and sharing her world with her twin sister.

By the way - FIVE MILLION DOLLARS WAS RAISED FOR MAC KIDS!

Phones That Take Pictures

2007-04-26T12:32:00.000-04:00

I used to rail against the new technology of mobile phones that take pictures. "Give me one reason why you'd need your phone to take a picture. Have you ever needed to call somebody on your camera?" I'd say.

...Then, I had to change mobile phone providers (Goodbye, Telus - if only you'd been more understanding), and I got a phone that takes pictures, because practically all mobile phones now take pictures and - mere moments after figuring out how to use it, while feeding the twins their breakfast this morning - I took these two pictures, and sent them off to my wife's email, without having to get off my butt.
Morgan gets excited when she sees me getting the waffles out of the freezer. "Bawbaw!" she says, as she points toward the eating wheel in my hand as I place it in the toaster. I believe she's trying to say 'waffle'. However, Janne claims Morgan points at everything and says "Bawbaw", so we'll leave it as a moot point.

"This is cool", I thought. "Janne's always gone before the babies get up, and she doesn't get to see them until she picks them up from daycare after work, so I can brighten her morning with these." (I'm quoting there because those were the exact words in my head.) :-)

Liam took the opportunity to show off exactly how much food he could shove in his mouth at once. Classy, just like his Dad. I'm beaming as I write this.

Turns out Janne's morning could use some brightening, too, because she had a brutal hour-and-a-half commute (which usually takes a little less than 40 minutes) to work - so I left her a heads-up voicemail to check her email after I sent the photos. Normally, I'd have to take out the digital camera, and then transfer the pictures to the computer, and then email them. Saves a couple of steps, this new-fangled-picture-takin' phone thingy.

So, the reason for a phone that takes pictures? It's the love, people.

Swinging Into Spring

2007-04-24T01:06:00.000-04:00

As in many parts of the country, this past weekend here in Southern Ontario saw the first real signs of spring weather. It was beautiful both Saturday and Sunday, and - for us - the most fun was had rediscovering the joy of just going for a swing in the neighbourhood park. The twins had a blast, and so did Janne and I. are we there yet?are we there yet?are we there yet?are we there yet?

A push? Anyone? I'm sitting still, and you know how I get when I'm sitting still...
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

For Anyone From Nova Scotia

2007-04-20T12:52:00.000-04:00

When Janne and I were just a couple of weeks away from moving the twins into their new home last November, we decided - jointly - to go insane.

Not really - but as I was recently mentioning on Bob's blog, (listed on the right, under Links) my wife and I spent the last two available weekends before the move getting pictures taken of the babies to put into our Christmas cards. Actually, we rationalized doing this by telling each other that we knew there would be no time to do it once we were in the new house, because unpacking into a new house can take MUCH longer than packing up an old one - and we are currently proving that rationalization, with a stack of boxes in our basement which remain sealed with packing tape.

So, since Sandi - one of my best friends in the world, who is pictured in the Real Friends Last Forever post with her family on this blog, dated July 27/06 - had given us Nova Scotia tartan outfits for the babies when she came to visit, Janne and I decided that we'd get the first not-going-to-pack-this-weekend's pictures of the twins taken in those, since Liam and Morgan had finally grown big enough to fit into them.

I've previously posted the Christmas pictures - which were taken on the following not-going-to-pack-now-either weekend - December 24/06 - so this post is just for posting a couple of my favourites from the Nova Scotia tartan shoot - for the following reasons:
a) Because I meant to post them long ago, and forgot. (I'm old and getting forgetful, and the twins take up most of my memory cells.)
b) Because - just recently - while blogging on Bob's blog, I found another Nova Scotian among us. 'Misster Kitty', (who I actually first saw post on Nat's blog, who's also listed on the right), is from Cole Harbour. Although my family's house was in Eastern Passage, I went to Junior High at Sir Robert Borden in Cole Harbour, and two of my best friends, John and Joe, lived on Estate Drive and Beaver Crescent, respectively, both in Cole Harbour. It's good to know you here in blogland, M.K., and I should introduce you to a member of our extended family, Ken. You can read him at www.fey.ca.
c) I am a die-hard Nova Scotian. It's where I will always feel totally at home. I love the ocean. I love the air. I love the people. Don't get me wrong. Inside this house in our little community of Brantford, with Janne - and the two incredibly cute people pictured here - is where I want to be. Of course, wherever the three of them are is where I want to be - I just wish we could live in Nova Scotia for at least half the year.
d) These shots were never made into prints, and although they aren't perfectly 'posed', I love the natural expressions on Liam's and Morgan's faces.
e) …and, for a couple of Ontario-born kids, they look pretty good in Nova Scotia tartan.

...and this just in!

April 24, 2007 - Source: Broadcast News
NS Tourism Campaign
HALIFAX - The Nova Scotia government is turning to high-profile online tools such as Google Earth and YouTube to win over fickle tourists. Tourism Minister Len Goucher says the new strategy, unveiled today, is aimed at taking the province's online marketing to a new level. Goucher says research shows 70 per cent of tourists use the Internet for travel planning. Google Earth, an online world map that meshes satellite photos with regular road maps, will be used to show tourists 100 points of interest, represented by tartan dots. The dots will link to information about tourism highlights, including cycling the Cabot Trail, touring vineyards in the Annapolis Valley and seeing the schooner Bluenose II in Lunenburg. YouTube will be used to show video vignettes that will include samples of Celtic music, wine and cuisine, motorcycling and surfing.

(ed.)...Maybe the Minister got the idea after reading my page. ;-)

Just pictures

2007-04-10T17:28:00.000-04:00

I call this one "Ladybug faceplant". Both Liam (in this case) and Morgan walk (or run) across the living room floor and fall onto the Ladybug pillow, and proceed to roll around on it.
Fun to watch for me.
They now have a Ladybug, Lion, Tiger, Alligator and two Bumblebees - each of which are big enough for them to fall and/or roll around on. Soon, we'll need to add an extension to the new house to have room for the couch and televsion.

And this is our "St Jacob's girl" portrait. St. Jacob's, for those not familiar, is a lovely Mennonite community just north of us, and the 'girls' who work in the bakery (on the main street through the town - and, by the way, worth visiting - very tasty baked goods there!) all wear traditional Mennonite bonnets. In this case, of course, it's a traditional burp pad, but not meant in any way to belittle the faith of the good people of St. Jacob's. It's just Morgan, clowning around, as usual. She also likes to hide under blankets and play peek-a-boo a lot.

Like I said, just pictures. As you were.

Happy Easter

2007-04-07T16:39:00.000-04:00

Morgan and Liam made their 'ears' with the help of their (awesome) daycare provider, Lianne.

Hope the Easter holiday gives you extra time to spend with all you hold close to your heart.

The Party Babies

2007-04-02T12:48:00.000-04:00

Well, Lene beat me to it, but I'm going to post anyway. Look to the right, under 'Links' and click on 'Lene - The Seated View' for her version (and more pictures) of the same event.

This past Saturday - although Morgan is still trying to fight off a nasty cold - we headed into Mormor's (Liam and Morgan's grandmom) and celebrated the birthdays of Ken, Janne and Mormor.

It's tough for us to get anywhere on the weekend these days with the babies, for any number of reasons - we're still so busy trying to get the new house the way we want it, or I have to do weekend public appearance-type work for the radio stations, or have to just go into work to play catch-up with my music responsibilities, plus the price of gas also limits our travel a bit - but we haven't made the journey into Toronto for quite a while, and Lene, as much as she'd probably love to see the new house 'live' rather than in pictures, can't travel to see us, so we need to congregate close to her place.
Although it wasn't their birthdays being recognized on the weekend, Liam and Morgan were the centre of attention anyway, and they received some cool new toys.

Morgan has taken quite a shine to stuffed animals/plush toys/stuffies, whatever you've grown up calling them. Janne calls them 'stuffies', and I always think of a doctor's office full of people with bad head colds when I hear her use the term. For as long as I can remember, I've called them 'stuffed animals', which probably makes people think of taxidermy - but I believe the prevailing terminology of the day is 'plush toys'.

Regardless, Morgan loves 'em.
Proof, found here one morning at breakfast, with two rabbits, and an elephant - 'Ellie' - which you can't really see, but part of it is barely sticking out under Morgan's hand in the pile - her little arms as far around as she can reach. Sometimes it's tough to navigate spoonfuls of food toward Morgan's mouth around the critters without getting something on them - but God forbid you make the mistake of trying to take her little furry friends away from her.

This weekend, Morgan found Mormor's 'ChrisMoose' on her travels through the place,

only moments before she was presented with this other-planetary creature that we've best-guessed is a cross between a cow and a giraffe, although the far more rare red-and-white-coloured variety. The colouring is probably some kind of subliminal Danish ancestry thing, actually. ;-)

After pointing out that the 'little red and white thing' didn't have the kind of neck that could make it possible to eat the leaves at the top of the trees, a common genetic trait among the giraffes I've had the pleasure of meeting, I asked Lene (the presenter of the toy - because her 'lil sis' Janne asked for things for the babies for her birthday) why she didn't think it was a cow, and she replied, "...because cows don't have manes".
...Okay. I can follow that logic...but I think I'd like to meet the person who designed the critter to get the real story, or at least the name of their doctor.

Liam was very well behaved through dinner, considering he didn't receive the kind of attention his sister was getting at the other end of the table. He was stuck sitting beside boring old me, you see, while Morgan was between his Moster (Aunt) Lene and Mormor.

...so he deserved an after-dinner ride for his good behaviour.

Both Liam and Morgan had their first taste of ice cream during Saturday's celebrations - a momentous occasion - with both of them making faces at the extreme coldness in their little mouths.

Michele, (originally a friend of Lene's through their university days together, and so much more to all of us now), pictured here seated across from us with birthday boy Ken by her side at the dinner table, was having fun trading raspberry noises with Liam (Sorry, Michele, but I warned you I was going to post it). She had brought along her youngest boy, Scott, and Scott's friend. We don't have pictures of the two of them here because their faces were almost perpetually behind their Gameboys when they weren't eating.

Speaking of eating - Mormor, the senior member (although sometimes the biggest kid) among our birthday partying group on Saturday - prepared the entire meal, provided incredible dessert to follow, and was - as she always is - happy just to have everyone over - and to maybe receive a few tulips on the side. There are no pics of her here, either. She was far too busy doing stuff to sit still long enough for that.

Ken, yet another gifted soul introduced to us through Lene, has been a friend of the family for as long as I've known Janne, and, for all intense and purposes, is a member of our family - he's been at 'The Danish Christmas' celebrations (on what North American celebrants consider Christmas Eve) with Janne's family for as long as I have - possibly longer, actually, come to think of it - and he spent part of Saturday's triple birthday shindig knitting a sweater so nice, you wouldn't be able to afford to buy it at Harry Rosen's in Toronto (if they had the good sense to market such an item). About this particular sweater, I'll just say I'm glad that Ken is getting to keep it. Sometimes you have to provide your own birthday gifts, and that's just that.

Finally, my birthday girl, Janne. No matter how many birthdays she has, she'll always be far too young and pretty for me, yet she still hangs around with me anyway. Things have been kinda stressful lately, but she managed this smile...

p.s. I've stolen some of these pictures out of Lene's collection from the weekend.
The rest are Janne's.

Radiothon Update

2007-03-27T14:34:00.000-04:00

Picture a little boy with leukemia.

I know you don't want to, but do it anyway. The boy has to go through a cycle of 25 monthly treatments, and subsequently has his disease go into remission, with everything going along nicely - everything 'heading in the right direction' - only to have the leukemia come back again. Now, the boy will have to go through yet another 25 treatments - but, after 22 of those treatments, there's no sign of progress, and the boy decides to go home - to die... He leaves this Earth six weeks later.

I'm looking into the eyes of the mother of that boy.

She is bravely trying to hold back her sobs of grief. Her heart is breaking for the umpteen millionth time as she again tells the story of her brave young man, who had to leave her at 14 years old. A young man, I say, because he took it upon himself to get involved in the lives of other children on the Oncology ward of my favourite hospital in the world, McMaster Children's Hospital - otherwise known as Mac Kids. He participated in fundraising events, and he remained involved in the lives of other children and families, even when he knew there was little hope left for himself. His mother works at this hospital, and she tells me that she would work at no other. She wants to be here, no matter what sad memories it may bring up for her, because she wants to give her love and support to other families who are going through what she's been through.

...and her family is just one of thousands touched by Mac Kids every year.

When I am given the opportunity to host at Radiothon, I am consumed by emotion. I am always the first announcer among us to cry, and I am not ashamed of that. I love this place, and I am honoured by the presence of the brave families who approach the microphone to tell their personal stories. When you have the opportunity to interview nurses who break down in tears while speaking about the children who inspire them, as well as talk to child care professionals all the way to the top, including a man I consider a dear friend, Dr. Peter Steer, himself a brilliant pediatrician and surgeon, and the President of the hospital, who admits that it is the children who inspire him to go on, to find better researchers to do better research, to seek out the best doctors in the world for the hospital, to acquire the best medical equipment necessary, and to do whatever it takes to improve the quality of the lives of those children - you are overwhelmed with humility. At least, I am. I feel I don't deserve this chance to be inside this world, to hear these very personal, always inspiring, often heart-wrenching insights into the lives of people who have been through so very much, yet still have the strength to share with the world their reasons for recommending that we all give to this wonderful home-away-from-home-and-far-more-than-just-a-hospital which, even when a child is facing imminent death, strives to make the quality of life for that child something to celebrate.

Did I mention I love this place?

I also walk away after three days of Radiothon wishing that we could have done more. We raised 265,000 dollars this year - a little better than last year, which was also up from the year before - but no one can put a price on the kind of care, the incredible research, the expertise and passion of the doctors and nurses, the work of the Foundation, and all the volunteers - all of whom share the goal of never, ever giving up on any child.

Liam and Morgan were born in this heavenly hospital. My wife was cared for on the Maternity ward for over five weeks while at risk of giving birth from the 28th week of her pregnancy. The twins came into this world in the best possible place they could have arrived, and I will be forever grateful.

Unfortunately, this is the clearest picture we have of Liam moments after he arrived. His grandmother (MorMor) was shaking just a little when she took it, because Liam's birth was quite traumatic, as you might be able to see by the bruising on his head.
Babies are just not supposed to be this small and thin when they're born, and on top of that, Morgan could not breathe on her own. We had three nurses for each baby ready to look after them, and Morgan's three had her on a respirator within moments of her arrival, and just seconds after this picture.
Liam didn't need a respirator, but both babies needed to be fed through their noses for a while. This is the first time his mother got a chance to feed him. Liam hated the tube, and regularly pulled it out. No easy feat, considering the tape in place to keep it there.
To see a tiny little thing like Morgan on a respirator - well, you can see for yourself how scary it looks.
Their guardian angels. The lovely woman closest to the travel isolette (this picture, by the way, was taken moments before the babies were transferred to St. Joe's hospital) was the twins' primary care nurse, LouAnn. We will never forget her, and we hope that the twins will be able to get to see her, and she them, many times as they grow up.

These babies have come a long way, and might not be where they are today, if it weren't for the care both they and my wife received at Mac. I will always be there for McMaster Children's Hospital if there's anything I can do to help. We owe them so much.

Gearing Up For Radiothon

2007-03-19T14:01:00.000-04:00

Well, we're sick.

No, really. I don't mean my-usual-sense-of-humour sick, or we're-going-to-force-the-children-to-watch-Saw sick, or anything like that. We're all sick with a cold that's been hangin' around with the twins for a couple of weeks.

Liam got it first, and then both he and Morgan had to get their Chicken Pox immunization, and that lowered their natural ability to fight off the cold, and then Janne came down with it, too.

Finally, after a harrowing week at work, where I was filling in on a different shift, yet still doing my music direction stuff, I got home Friday night - and succumbed.

Blah.

You know that feeling you get when you sneeze, and it takes every last bit of energy just to complete the friggin' sneeze? ...and that feeling immediately afterward as you're waiting for your eyes to re-focus and you find yourself grunting an "Unh", because it's the only sound you have the energy to make to convey your pain if perhaps anyone might be listening?

That's the way I feel.

Different for the twins, of course. They cry when they feel this kind of pain. Both Liam and Morgan had fevers, but it was more from the shot (for those of you with no kids, the chicken pox shot is one of those damned "live virus" shots which doctors always claim - falsely* - can't hurt you) than the cold. Lots of snot and whining in our house these days. Four peoples' worth of snot and whining. Most I've been around since I gave up my membership at the yacht club.

That was a lame cold medication-induced attempt at humour. I won't try it again.

*ed. It's certainly worth it for the babies to get the shot, as Nikki points out in the comments. It's much better for the babies, however, if they're healthy when they receive the shot. Because Liam already had a cold virus, his little body then had to fight off two at the same time (yes, the chickenpox virus was a considerably weaker version of 'the real thing'), and then things snowballed. Liam's cold took over Morgan's weakened immune system, etc.

The worst part for me is that this Wed/Thur/Fri, it's our annual Radiothon in support of McMaster Children's Hospital. It's three special, sometimes heartwarming, often heartbreaking, emotional rollercoaster days, made even MORE special to me because it's the hospital where they looked after my wife so well for over five weeks leading up to the birth of Liam and Morgan. "Mac Kids" will always be like an alma mater for the twins, and - because they were born at risk, and are now here, enriching our lives - the good people of McMaster refer to them as 'Mac Grads'.
When we go back there, we look for a lot of people - members of the hospital's foundation, nurses, doctors - who will be in our memories and our hearts forever, to 'show off' our healthy, beautiful kids, and let them know that we know how lucky we are to have them, and how fortunate this entire community is to have this hospital.

...but I can't go there if I'm this sick. We will be set up at the hospital, and I will be speaking to children at risk, many with compromised immune systems, and I can't take a chance of infecting them with anything, so I will be medicating this thing into submission as quickly as I can, and - if worse comes to worst - wearing a mask if I have to.

If you get a chance, listen anytime from 6a-7p Eastern from the 21st-23rd at
k-litefm.com. You'll hear some amazing stories, and you'll understand a little more of why I, and many others, consider this hospital a jewel in our own backyard.
I'll be on with my friend Aiko between 2pm and 7pm on those days...but anytime you listen, you'll hear compelling stuff.

...and now, for something completely different -

We bought Liam and Morgan some new chairs (their first chairs where they don't have to be strapped in), and got ones they could share...They both like Thomas the Tank Engine and The Backyardigans, but when one sits in one chair, the other one will, of course, want to sit in the very same chair. This way, at least, they can enjoy fighting over both.

Morgan figured out how to sit in them very quickly.
Liam tried to figure out how to take them apart.
All of a sudden, Liam's got a look on his face like he's ready to read you a book,
while it looks like Morgan doesn't quite understand what "Reader's Digest" means.
Later that same day, they switch places...
...and then Mommy re-adjusts the chairs for the 'pose' picture...
...and finally, the chairs revert to their original purpose of being climbed upon and thrown around.

Hopefully, it won't be as long between posts next time.

Oh, and a belated Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all. I'm half Irish, yet all I managed to do to celebrate was to wear a green golf shirt for a few hours on Saturday. My Aunt Doreen, (Dad's sister), who faithfully sent each of us a St. Patrick's Day card every year, would be disappointed in my lack of effort, so I give to you my two favourite Irish sayings to belatedly celebrate the tradition of the shamrock:

May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live.

- and -

May you be buried in a casket
Made from the wood
Of a one hundred year old oak
...That I shall plant tomorrow.

Action Shots

2007-02-25T01:01:00.000-05:00

There is nothing in the world like being a parent. I can't say it enough. I'm almost 50 years old, and I can honestly say that I've probably had more fun in my life than I deserve. Thankfully, I've never become numb to fun, because I'm now having more fun than I've ever had in my life - and, as I've mentioned, I've had a lot of fun. I am a fun connoisseur. I know my fun, my friend, and nothing is more fun than these two almost-15-month-old babies.

I had to lie on the floor to get this angle, but I felt, without linking you to video of them on YouTube, which I'd prefer to avoid, thanks, that these shots best demonstrated their walking 'style'. It's hilarious. Morgan started out walking like Charlie Chaplin, and it made me wonder if Chaplin, genius that he was, invented his walk after watching babies take their first steps. Liam's walk is more of a determined drunk, but both of them improve their gaits by the day, and are getting around quite well. There was a period where Morgan used the weight of her head to advance or slow down. The further forward she leaned, she learned, the faster she would go, and by straightening up and leaning backward, she could slow herself down and stop before hitting the wall. It had its flaws, and after a few faceplants, she gave up on that method. Liam's stopping plan was much simpler. He would just fall down when he wanted to cease advancement. It worked for a while, but when he started to pick up speed, the falling-down-to-stop method hurt a little too much to stick with.

Unfortunately, because they kept running at me while I was lying on the floor in the gated community that is our living room (it's their playroom, really - and yes, there are always toys everywhere), many of the shots are fuzzy - but I kinda like the 'action shot' effect, especially on the first two pictures in this post. The shot above has a really neat trail coming from a toy Morgan is dropping, (babies love dropping things - gravity is fascinating to them) and Liam's hands are a blur from swinging them wildly. In the second shot, Liam looks like he's doing the Monster Mash or something, and the two of them walking away looks like they're leaving a wake of toys as they plunder through.

This third picture is funny (to me) for a couple of reasons. First, it's Morgan's turn to come at me, and I wanted to call the picture "Jazz Hands", for the obvious reason...but she was coming at me so quickly that I had to rush, and I didn't even notice that my finger was in the shot (Janne had to point it out to me - I was so focused on Morgan), so we'll call it "Dumb Dad" instead.

This next one has nothing to do with their walking, but it just reminded me a little of Robert DeNiro's expression in Taxi Driver when he says, "You talkin' to me?"

...And this is a perfect example of the enjoyment-of-the-wrapping-paper-more-than-the-gift syndrome. The gift was plural, actually - really cool growth charts for both Morgan's and Liam's rooms from their "Auntie" Robyn - a gift which they will eventually appreciate - but it's good to see that they're normal babies, and prefer the ripping of brightly coloured wrapping paper into little pieces and spreading the love around.

Lucy's First Birthday

2007-02-14T14:04:00.000-05:00

Our friend Shelly, who I've written about on this blog before, had a birthday party for her little girl Lucy's first birthday. Since we worked 'through the glass' from each other through her pregnancy, and we both talked incessantly about either Liam and Morgan or her babe-on-the-way (I was one of very few early on to know that Shelly's baby would be a girl), we also talked about those future play dates between ours and hers, and how much we were looking forward to watching them grow up and, with any luck, becoming friends.

I've probably mentioned this before, but whenever I think of Shel, I always think of how the sun shines out of her face when she smiles. Truly a genuine person and genuinely lovely woman.

Now, Liam and Morgan had had their own 'home-based' birthday party with wonderful guests, but Shelly's party for Lucy was more of an event. It was at a really cool Daycare/Playroom in her home community of Milton, and there was a ton of cool stuff for the twins to do.
This is Janne with the twins and Shelly's Mom (from whom Shelly obviously got her lovliness), in the "Ball Pit". (Getting out of the Ball Pit for an adult, by the way, is actually pretty tough. Takes some doin'.)

Actually, Shelly's Mom has also volunteered to sit with the twins to give Janne and I a night out. She had a great time with them, as they did with her. She makes a lovely grand-mom, and Lucy has become a joy in her life, and she's the kind of woman who's very deserving of joy in her life. Personally, I can't wait to take advantage of her generous offer.
More of the Ball Pit with Dad and Liam. Liam liked being up to his neck in there. Me, they had to lift out with a crane:

Here's Shelly's cute little birthday girl, Lucy:

Here's Liam and Morgan at Lucy's table sharing in the festivities and Elmo party hats:

Liam and Morgan both loved the little cars in the Play Area. Morgan, just like her Mom, with her arm hanging out the window - probably would've had the radio cranked if the little plastic buggy had been equipped with one:

Liam, just like his Dad, has a rather intense look on his face when he drives:

This next one is my favourite pic of the bunch, I think. Being a regular 'feeder' of my children every morning, I know there's one thing they like to do that's even more fun than making a mess of their food on themselves, and that's making a mess of their food on their parents. Here's a great example of Lucy gettin' crazy with the icing from her cake, and how great Shelly looked wearing it:

Lots of fun all around. This last picture is Shelly's husband, Anthony, holding Liam and Morgan while dressed as the tallest Elmo in captivity. Actually, Anthony is a very good Elvis impersonator, so he could have been called Elvismo...but I digress. Liam seems to have figured out that it's not really Elmo, and is trying to identify who's in there through the little holes in the mouth, while Morgan has a very definite "This is not how you hold the princess" look about her:

Next post - 'walking' pictures...

Good For A Laugh

2007-02-11T01:25:00.000-05:00

I believe some of the things which draw many people to a life in the entertainment industry, whether it be acting, or performing as a musician, or further down the scale with work in radio or television, are some basic needs - to feel accepted, to fit in, and to please and satisfy others. Moreover, one of the reasons great bands stop playing, to illustrate the point, is because one or more members become no longer inspired to write songs about needing to be loved or how bad things are for them after they've found love. The Beatles are still one of the best examples of that. It's also the reason you won't find very many rich blues musicians. It's very hard to write about or sing the blues if you don't have them.

I thought of these things because of something I feel a great need to do every day - to relate to as many people as possible on a level that makes them laugh. Not necessarily out loud, because I can't hear them anyway. Sometimes, I'm just going for a smile, or a think-about-it-then-smile, or even groan kind of a moment. Whatever it is that I feel the need to put into my work every day, none of it can match the joy I receive when I get this reaction to a funny face (yes, some would argue the 'funny' part is a permanent fixture) or a goofy noise I make, which was the case in this photo. Janne had moved one of the twins' chairs across the floor in such a manner that it made a strange kind of honking noise, so I imitated it.

Many times.

Certainly annoying to adults in the room, but fun for me, because I achieved this end result:

By the way, getting these two to laugh simultaneously while they're being photographed is not an easy feat. They've become so accustomed to the camera now, they just turn their heads toward it and attempt to look posed and composed whenever they see it coming out of its case.
It's the best feeling in the world when I can get this reaction. It's become the only acceptance I need, and the only place I care about fitting in.

How Do You Hotwire This Thing?

2007-02-05T17:12:00.000-05:00

...pretty self-explanatory.

The more-fun-every-minute babies continue to be just that.

Fireworks

2007-01-23T13:31:00.000-05:00

I'm now the mid-day host of an oldies station, a new duty which started in the New Year. I'm still the afternoon drive show host of a country station. I'm also still the music director of that country station. I have a 40 minute commute.
...and I have twins.

These may all sound like excuses for not posting anything for quite some time, but the truth is, they are also facts. I wish I had the time to post something new about Liam and Morgan every single day, but time won't let me.

For instance - this morning, Morgan refused to eat her breakfast unless I let her hold her pink elephant while dining. Every morning after Janne has gone to work, I have wake-up/diaper changing/breakfast duty with the kids, which is awesome. Our routine includes me carrying Liam and Morgan downstairs from their rooms together - about 46 pounds of joy for me every day - and this morning, Morgan refused to let go of her pink elephant (which accompanies her to dreamland in her crib every night) when I picked her up. I eventually had to hide it in the cupboard at a moment when she wasn't looking, so she'd at least temporarily forget about it.

The bigger news is, they're both taking steps now. What you and I would consider walking is now on the horizon, but each of them can take a few steps at a time now, and they both love the accomplishment.

Morgan has done almost every 'new' thing first.
Liam came into the world thirteen minutes before she did, and she's been making up for those thirteen minutes ever since. She rolled over first. She sat up first. She stood up with the assistance of the playpen first. She 'cruised' around the playpen first. When she was six months old, she was introduced to clapping. Actually, she put her hands together all on her own, and we exclaimed "Yay!"
Following that moment, and in a rather Pavlovian manner, whenever we say "Yay!", she claps her hands. It's always accompanied by her big, beautiful smile. Once, while we were watching an awards show on television, and the audience applauded, she spontaneously and happily clapped along with them.

Only recently - maybe three weeks ago, tops - Liam finally started clapping his hands. Now, if one of us doesn't say "Yay!" when he's clapping his hands, he's offended.

On top of this, Liam has had a landmark first. He stood up in the middle of the living room, unassisted.
First (meaning before Morgan).
In typical 'guy' fashion, once he was upright and standing in the middle of the floor, he applauded himself. It was a classic moment. You should have been there. I was there, but the camera was packed away. Sorry about that.

A friend of mine who used to work in our sales department wrote to me today, apologizing for not having told me sooner that he's a father of a wonderful young boy, born September 8/06. Congratulations, Peter and family! Welcome to the world, Cole.
I mentioned to Peter that every moment watching Liam and Morgan grow - and do new things almost every day - is like perpetually watching a really good fireworks display. (The accompanying ooh's and ahhh's, however, are infinitely more heartfelt.)

...which, in afterthought, is perfectly appropriate, because I met my lovely wife at a fireworks display about nine years ago.

Since I have no new pictures - due to the first few items I mentioned in this post - I instead present to you a shot of the babes when they were much, much smaller.

Morgan is up to a petite twenty-one and a half pounds.
Here, Sleeping Beauty is less than five pounds.

Liam. Check out that little hand!
He's now twenty-five and a half pounds. Here, he is also less than five.

It's awesome, and a little mind-blowing, to look back occasionally and see where we started.
I'm sure we'll be doing a lot of that for many years to come.

The Toy Bin Babies

2007-01-12T15:22:00.000-05:00

We have two large toy bins now for Liam and Morgan.
(A red one and a blue one, of course).

When Janne brought this one home, and before we filled it with stuff,
I wanted to get some pictures of the two of them in it.

My inspiration for this was actually from just after Christmas of 2005,
when we had just brought them home from St. Joseph's NICU. I had this really nice gift box that was big enough for either of them to fit in it, as they only weighed about 5 pounds each at the time. Since we considered them (and still do) such an exceptional gift to the two of us, I wanted to get pictures of them emerging from the gift box.

Unfortunately, instead of acting on my impulse, I let the opportunity slip by.
So that's basically why, for Christmas 2006, I schlepped them into the toy bin. Completely selfish, really.
But I'm happy with the resulting shots, especially the bottom picture, which really captures their characters. Morgan, pushing her way to the front.
Liam, happy to sit back while watching over her.

Looking Back, Going Forward

2007-01-02T14:45:00.000-05:00

Looking Back

How incredibly understated "what a year" is as a summary for our 2006.

Technically speaking, slightly more than a year's worth of events in our lives will be mentioned here.

An early morning sunrise over our new backyard

The babies came home - at approximately 5 pounds each - on December 29th, 2005.
While Janne was in the hospital (for about 6 weeks prior to their birth), I was getting the house prepared by putting some of our way-too-much stuff in storage, putting new ceramic floors in the kitchen and office, and - of course - laying new carpet, assembling furniture, and painting what would become their first - and quite possibly last shared bedroom in our little house in Hamilton. As well, I'd feed and medicate our little 'boy', Jag, twice a day at regular intervals because of his diabetes (see post below), and then, after work, visit Janne in the hospital, and often take some supper in for her, because the hospital food wasn't exactly cutting it. She was losing weight in her first couple of weeks in hospital, which is not something you should be doing when you're about to give birth to twins...
The sunrise this morning

During this time, the staff at my radio station(s) were amazing to me. Lynda (many people here refer to her as 'Mama') was giving me gift certificates for restaurants to help keep Janne's weight up, and organizing a pool to raise money for gifts for the babies. She also made two beautiful blankets, which they still use.* Drew gave me time off when I needed it most, and simply told me not to worry, that they'd figure out how to cover off shifts somehow. There was a lot of love and support for us, and everyone was aware of the dangers we faced with an early delivery, and were always asking me how things were going. In hindsight, I'm sure many people wished I would just shut up about us occasionally, and ask how they were doing.

*{Lene, Janne's sister, who cheers us on from her home in Toronto, unable to make the trip to see us for reasons I won't get into here, also helped make two beautiful blankets for Liam and Morgan, with help from Steph (I'd need a separate post to explain to you the things this woman has accomplished in the last couple of years) and Ken (for all intense and purposes, my brother-in-law). By the way, there's a link to Lene's blog, The Seated View, on the right-hand column of this blog.}

I don't want to neglect for a moment the help we received from others. So many people came to our aid, but mostly 'Mom', 'Mormor', 'B' - she goes by many names, but these days, she prefers Mormor (loosely translated from Danish means Mother's Mother), because, as she told me last night while at our house for New Year's dinner, Liam and Morgan are the best gift she's ever received, aside from her own two daughters. Over the last year, she came to help Janne during the day with the babies, and would try to get from Toronto to Hamilton twice a week - but we're talking about a woman with fibromyalgia who is embarking upon her seventies, and she eventually had to cut her visits to once a week. She cried the day she told Janne she had to cut back because of her health, but she needs to know we understand, and we love her to pieces for doing everything she does, including bailing us out financially when it all gets too much to keep up with.
Actually, she makes it impossible to not love her - simply by being herself.

It's the first year Liam and Morgan were home for Christmas

Where was I? Oh, yes.

After getting the babies home, we put even more stuff in storage to 'stage' the old house, and get it ready to sell. We had 'ordered' a new house in September of '05, with a delivery date of Oct. '06, so it was time to get the old one ready for the market. It was one of the most stressful experiences we have ever been through, with the market starting to slide (wouldn't ya know) just as we put the 'for sale' sign on the lawn. It was as if the sign actually said, "Please come in to our house, look down your nose, and f*ck us around for a few months". But, after dropping both our price (twice) and an inexperienced real estate agent, we got out from under a house which had provided us with more than our share of headaches. I'm pretty sure the new owner will be happy, considering we repaired everything in the damn place over the eight years we lived there. We also raised the average going rate for a house in the neighbourhood by selling for more than any house had ever sold in the history of the street.

...and then we packed and packed and packed and packed, but we still weren't ready when the movers arrived on a sunny November morning. We have an excuse, though. Twins require a boatload of attention. You can only get so much done in a day when you have twins. Everything you do, even the most menial of tasks, takes longer. I'm not griping here, by the way. I wouldn't have it any other way. They are the reason we do everything now, and they're the best reason I know of.
A colourful sunset on our new street

We've only been in our new house for a little more than a month. There are still no pictures on the walls, but there are baby gates to keep Liam and Morgan safe and out of areas they are not yet ready to negotiate. The garage is full of backyard stuff until the spring, when we'll hopefully get a backyard in which to put it all. Then, we'll introduce each of the cars to the garage, since neither of them has yet had the chance to spend a moment inside it.

As Dee (Hi Deb) reminded me in her comment on Jag's farewell post, it has been a spectacular 12 months for our family, and although losing Jag was a very difficult way to end it, I'm proud of what we've been able to accomplish in the last year.

There is a Chinese saying (which I've been told is actually supposed to be a curse) which sums up our last year: "May you live in interesting times." Life would be pretty boring otherwise, though, wouldn't it?

I'd like to say thank you to everyone who's posted here, or just come by and visited (lurked is such a harsh word) to see what we're up to.
May your New Year provide - in a good way - many interesting times.

Going forward, with room to spare

Our Sweet Boy, Jag

2006-12-30T20:39:00.000-05:00

It is December 30th. Today should not be a sad day, nor a difficult one.
For one thing, today Liam and Morgan turn 13 months old. For that reason alone, it should be a day for much celebration. Add to this great fact that Christmas Eve with the twins was a wonderful thing. We all had a great time, a wonderful meal, and tremendous company at Mormor's (Grandmother's, for those of you who haven't enjoyed the Dane experience), with a shower of love and gifts for the babies. Not to mention, we're embarking on a brand new year in our new home - the one for which we'd been anxiously anticipating for over a year.

But today is a horrible day for Janne and I. If the twins were older than 13 months, it would be a horrible day for them, as well. I'm glad they're not old enough to understand.

Jag was 4 years old when I first met him, but Janne brought him home when he was 6 weeks old, and she loved him every moment ever since. When Janne and I met, we had both been through bad marriages. She was only moments away from ending hers. The only reason I mention this is because one of the things that shaped Jag's personality while he lived under the same roof as Janne's ex was that the poor cat was terrorized, and became very scared of anyone - except Janne.
Janne loves animals, and Jag was at the top of that list. Because of his previous experience with males, when I met him, he kept his distance from me for a long time.
It was close to a year after Janne and I had moved in together that he finally adopted me. It remains one of the more rewarding experiences of my life. To get to know this lovely animal's soul, to work at becoming friends, and to gain his trust - meant a great deal to me, and still does.
JAG ALWAYS PREFERRED TO TAKE MY SPOT ON THE COUCH...

There are many who say that animals don't have souls. I would suggest to you that those people have never taken in a cat or dog of their own.
Jag played a lot with Janne and I in the years before The Tinks. He was a very playful little guy. Since we had been trying for a number of years to have children, Jag was - for the longest time - our little 'boy', and we showered him with all the love we could. Although Jag was playful with us, as soon as there was a knock on the door, or a strange voice in the house (unless it was Mormor, who also showered him with affection when given the chance), he'd run and hide until the coast was clear. He was ours and ours alone. He shared his affections with no one else. He was like a secret friend we had all to ourselves, and we felt priveleged for it.

About two and a half years ago, Jag became ill. We had no idea what was wrong, and took him to the vet many times before finally uncovering diabetes. There were many trying times with him for the last two and a half years, and within the last few months he was receiving two insulin shots a day, losing his beautiful fur, developing sores which wouldn't heal, almost too weak to climb up and down the stairs, and becoming despondent.

This morning, I was downstairs in our basement on the computer searching for an address of a place we had planned to visit later in the day - until I saw Jag. He had a very strange 'meow', one I hadn't heard before. He seemed scared and confused, and - what was most disturbing - he was staggering, and couldn't gain his balance. I called Janne to come downstairs immediately, and as she did, he was trying to hide from us behind some folded boxes from our recent move. If you know anything about cats, you probably know that they are both very proud and very independent, and I was sure Jag wanted neither of us to see him in his current condition. He just wanted it to be over.

I had to stay home with the twins, while Janne took Jag to the vet in our new hometown of Brantford this morning - the same vet we were planning on making our 'new' vet for Jag, now that we had moved here.

I need to tell you here that there isn't a person in the world who could have done more for Jag than Janne did. She went above and beyond, and kept him going when he could no longer keep himself going. Our diabetes/specialist vet (who works out of Montreal) emailed Janne once saying that she wished all pet owners were like Janne. Of course, to us, Jag wasn't a pet. He was family.

Today, however, a million dollars wouldn't have brought him back. All it could have done was prolong his pain, and we didn't want him to suffer. I just wish I could have been there with my wife to comfort her, and to look him in the eyes, and personally say goodbye to our sweet boy.

After Janne called me with the news, I wailed. Uncontrollably. In my life, I don't remember ever doing that before. Morgan turned to me, and reached out her hands - as mine were covering my face. I picked her up, and she put her little arms around me, comforting me. Janne and I are both convinced Morgan's first audible word would have been "Jag", because she delighted in him every time she saw him, and identified him with her best effort at his name. It sounded like "Dack!", and was quickly followed by an ear to ear grin and a little finger pointing straight at him.

THIS WAS JAG JUST AFTER JANNE RETURNED FROM HER ALMOST-SIX-WEEK STAY IN HOSPITAL AFTER HAVING THE TWINS - HIS WAY OF SAYING SHE WAS TO NEVER GO AWAY AGAIN WITHOUT HIM.

Jag turned 12 years old on December 11th.
He brought us so much joy, so much love, and brought us closer together.

We miss you, Jag, and we'll never forget you.
Rest your weary head on the lap of an angel.

And To All A Good Night

2006-12-24T11:27:00.000-05:00

Everybody feels they have remarkable children.

Janne and I are way beyond that now.

We know we have remarkable children.

We subjected them to two photo shoots while getting ready to move. Actually, we used up the last two Saturdays before we moved to take Liam and Morgan to two different photographers for two completely different kinds of sessions. The first was one with them in a couple of really nice Nova Scotia tartan outfits that my friend Sandi had brought for them this past summer. That was a Sears Portrait Studio shoot, and you'll see few of those here some time in the New Year.

The second session was with a lovely woman who had her own company called Simply Enchanted, and was renting space in the local shopping mecca, Lime Ridge Mall, leading up to Christmas. She digitally adds the background after the fact, and I was impressed with the work she was doing with kids from the examples she had at her mobile studio.

The pictures you see here are obviously before the background was added, and I waited to post them until now, because I was under threat of something terrible happening to me in my sleep, since we had sent copies of the finished product to Janne's relatives in Denmark, and she wanted to make sure they got their copies before I spoiled anyone's surprise by posting them here.

Our children are very easy to work with, according to both photographers.
Apparently, as long as we have a camera pointed toward them, we'll be able to get them to finish their meals, go to sleep when they're supposed to, and not scream too much while Mummy and Daddy are trying to watch a movie or even have a conversation.

By the way, you can visit simplyenchanted.com to see some of the other work they've done.

We hope you have a terrific holiday, however you choose to celebrate this time of year, and for those of you who celebrate what we celebrate, have a very Merry Christmas.

What's Beyond Happy?

2006-12-04T18:30:00.000-05:00

The windows across the back of our new house allow the morning light to stream in as the sun gets stronger in the morning sky. It's almost blinding, since there are no curtains on the back windows or patio doors yet, and we're not really worried about it at this point, since there are no neighbours to 'see in' behind our house in our new development. The babies are in their high chairs, and their cereal is moments from being ready. I'll feed them on my own this morning, and for many mornings to come, since my lovely wife went back to work today, her maternity leave and two weeks vacation (to stretch it as far as possible) having now run its course.
She was just a little traumatized about it when leaving for work this morning.

Then, around mid-morning, as I get ready to leave for work after having about 10 days off, our nanny arrives to take over care of Liam and Morgan.

We are happy.

We have known happiness before, but this is somehow different. It's almost beyond happiness. We love our new house, our new neighbourhood, we love the way the sun comes into our kitchen every morning when we feed our beautiful children. We love how, when Janne and I wake up in the morning, we open our eyes to the line of trees in the park being built across the road.

The word 'idyllic' is frowned upon by many, and used by the negative among us to demonstrate an impossibly good situation; one considered too good to be true.
...but it is true.

We have no lawn in the front or back yards until spring, and about 150 boxes left in the basement to unpack, but our cat likes the new house so much he's become social (and he never has been), Liam and Morgan each have their own room, and they've been sleeping through the night almost every night since we moved in last Saturday (parents reading this know how big that one is), and we have room to breathe, room for our stuff, and room to grow.
Life is very good.

Although Liam and Morgan officially celebrated their first birthday(s) on Thursday (November 30th) last week, their party, which was essentially a surprise party, since pretty well every new thing that happens to a baby is a surprise to them, was this past Saturday.

...and then with two "1" candles, of course.
Janne made the cake from scratch.

Our wonderful nanny, Anita, left two of her friends at home to be entertained by her parents while she came to see the babies on their big day, and Claire - my wife's best friend since Janne's family moved to Canada when she was 9 years old - her husband, Bill, and their three children, Marilynn, Nick, and Kirsten, also came. Our former (and favourite) Hamilton neighbour, Sue, with her daughters Paris and practically-newborn Ella-Maria, and their father Horatio, were also welcome guests at The Tinks' 1st Birthday.

We dressed 'em up for the festivities.

"Bond. Liam Bond."
"How you s'posed to crawl in one of these skirt things?"

They had cake for the very first time in their lives!
Liam motored through his cake.
...and although it doesn't appear so here, Morgan was very dainty while eating hers.

...and then they got a little tired from the excitement of the day.
Janne tells me this is one of her favourite pictures of the day. (She took all of these shots. I was on videocamera duties.) Unbeknownst to me, as I crawled in between them to tend to Liam's cake-eating, he yawned at the same time Morgan started to lose consciousness and leaned over to use my back as a headrest for her tired little bean. "Ya can't pose those ones," Claire said.

Like I said, life is very good.

What is beyond happy? I'm not sure.
But I know WHO is beyond happy. WE are.

A Done Deal

2006-11-23T17:10:00.000-05:00

Can't really put into words how much of a relief this is, to finally have closed on the sale of our old home and purchase of the new one today...We'll remember November 23, 2006 for a long time. Mind you, this is the same picture of our new house and home that I ran here before. Unfortunately, the house is a tad incomplete in this shot, (and that's not my van, either) but we simply haven't had the time to take any new pictures of ANYthing with everything that's been going on in our lives recently.

Many more pictures to come, though, I'm sure...once we're settled in the new place.

Gotta hook up new internet and all things related before we're back on here with new stuff, of course.

Then - next weekend - Janne and I will toast one completed year of twin parenthood, as the Tinks celebrate Birthday Numero Uno in their new house.
Hey, they get a new house for their first birthdays - Any thoughts on how we might follow that up on Birthday #2?

In the meantime, if we don't have time to get a post on here before their 'official' first birthdays, please send a Happy First Birthday to Morgan and Liam into the atmosphere on November 30th, and celebrate a little bit with us.

Their First Shoes

2006-11-11T13:18:00.000-05:00

Got some dress shoes for Morgan and Liam for their first 'professional' pictures, which are being taken both this weekend and next. We'll let you know how that goes. No doubt the pictures won't be able to convey the experience of getting them into their poses. Nice shoes, though, eh?