Should we name them Audrey?

Let the Day of One Million Calories Commence!

the girls are growing like crazy. We went to the doctor yesterday for the weekly ultrasound and pee-check. When they tested her golden sample, they found ketones in it. No huge call for concern, it's the same thing that happens to people on the Atkins diet. Basically, she can't eat carbs fast enough to keep the parasites fed. As a result, her body is scouring the pantry to find some goodies it stored away for winter. Her body has already used all the Progresso Thick N' Hearty soups, and polished off the Kudos chocolate covered granola Bars. Cup O' Noodle, dollar store chili, honey-lime almonds; all gone. All that's left is a block of Velveeta and a tub of butter flavored Crisco.

I believe it too, I'm sent away to fetch foodstuffs at least once an hour. She finished dinner last night, then had a Burrito, followed with a bowl of ice cream, chased by an ice cream sandwich. Then, a grilled cheese sandwich, which went well with the bowl of oatmeal. And nothing cleanses the palate like another bowl of ice cream. 20 minutes later, she rolled over and gave me a pleading look.

Me: What can I do for you my lady?

Her: Feed me!

Me: Where is it all going?

Her: I don't know!

Twins: MORE BLOOD!

Hopefully today's combination of food, rest, more food, a nap, leftovers, a sandwich, pie, another nap and boardgames will be amicable to my little ladies.

Duchesses of Hazard

To all my adoring fans: I am sorry that I have taken 2 weeks to write nothing. I was busy, then I wasn't busy and just forgot about it, then I was tired, then a bit hungry, then busy again.

Anyhow, we're in the clutch period now. 32 weeks pregnant, and the pull-by date is 37 weeks. Abby is really pregnant and it's affecting the way she goes about pretty much everything. Originally I had though that the state of being pregnant was a true/false condition. Where you were pregnant or not pregnant. You couldn't have a "minor case" of baby-in-you. I am now coming to understand that it's a very different spectrum.

For instance, if you are in a car and are stopped, then you can't be moving just a little and still be stopped. However, once the wheels start turning, you're moving. You may be moving just a little, or you could be going all "Thelma and Louise." You're moving. So, there are two states: Stopped and moving, but there's a whole bunch of stuff that falls under the state of moving.
-Getting T-boned or blindsided and sliding down an embankment
-Driving along at a leisurely pace and gradually shifting through the gears
-Or, as we found out ending up in a pre-recall Toyota, hurtling along with these guys:

1: "I sure hope that guy with a gun and sword doesn't do something awesome."

2: "It's not a gun, it's an epidural; and it's not a sword, it's a scalpel."

1: "Whatever."
(Quote: Matrix Reloaded)

So, yes, technically we are still just "moving"but we are REALLY moving now.

So far, I've had to help her put her shoes on, sit up and assist in bodily upkeep at one point or another. Lets hope I don't have to do anything degrading. I mean, washing her feet in scented oils while feeding her peeled grapes I'll do, but folding her laundry... no way. I already have a 7 page brochure just on how to fold the guest hand towels.

We also had an appointment to measure the babies yesterday. There's an estimated almost 9 pounds of baby inside my wife. I was trying to sympathize with that, and realized that nine is a lot of pounds. If I ate a nine pound ham and turkey provalone sandwich, I would be unhappy for a while. From Jerry Maguire, I learned that the human head weights eight pounds. Thusly; we can assume Abby has about 113% of an average human head in her abdomen. Imagine the size of your head, plus 13% and jam it into your beer gut. It would suck even before the head started yelling about Money Showing.

According to this Butterball Calculator a nine pound turkey would feed 4 adults and 1 child, and would have to thaw for 2 days and 6 hours. Admittedly, you would allegedly have leftovers, but a baby/turkey is really silly to make if you don't plan on making sandwiches or soup.





Pictured (Top To Bottom): Baby Sandwich, Baby Soup

Wave of Calm

As we were sitting in bed last night, as we are apt to do, Abby let me know that the righty was moving and I could feel if I wanted. After I explained that girls had cooties, and that she was technically 3 girls right now; I impressed upon her that she was a walking talking ticking cootie time-bomb. Then, I remembered that I love her and girls have soft skin as well as smell good. End result: I felt the babies moving. They're less like distinct punches anymore, and more like the feeling of a garbage bag filled with Kielbasa lengths and a really hungry Slavic little person. There's things being pressed against the walls. Do you know what it is? No. Are you Curious? Of course. Is it adorable? Debatable, depending on the facial hair of the little person.

Anyhow, we're realizing that the girls react and wake up to certain stimuli.
-Pretty much anything the dogs do.
The dogs will bark, squeal, squeek toys, growl, or pass gas. Whatever it is, the babies start freaking out.

-Abby gets angry at me
Whenever I do something to get her ire up, the little ones start try go all "Berlin Wall" on her cervix. I like to think of her womb as East Berlin.





"Hey, Mommy, leave my dad alone"






Admittedly, there's a very good chance I did something wrong, and I'm sorry. But, I can tell when She's gettign grumpy, because she starts to ripple around the edges.

-She lays on her side
Whoever's on the bottom protests the way you should react at the bottom of a pig pile. You laugh, then you say, "Ok, that's enough." Then you get tired of being crushed and start flailing around like an epileptic baboon.





Or a college student.






-Mommy is hungry
Those kids bang their fists on the table harder and more incessantly than the whiny kids from Newsies. Or Little Orphan Annie. I can't remember, but when they're hungry, they go ballistic. Stomping on bladders, poking lungs, breaking ribs; if you had these kids over for dinner, your fine china would be gone becasue they ate right through it and started in on your fiberboard Ikean dinner table, Ėngo.