29 Weeks Strong...

Dear Boston & Braxton,

29 weeks! A lot can happen in 29 weeks. Fourteen paychecks can enter your hands. You can make eight mortgage payments. Seasons can change from fall to winter to spring. Football can end, basketball can reach the all-star break, and baseball can begin. Life can change in an instant. So, 29 weeks is a long time. A lot of growing can happen in 29 weeks!

We have made it 29 weeks. We are over seven months into this journey, and the end is in sight. We can glimpse June around the corner. We can imagine bringing you boys home and snuggling with you. We can imagine being woken up at 3:30 in the morning. We aren't happy about it, but we can imagine it.

Your mommy is working hard and sacrificing so much, so that you boys can grow big and strong. I am so proud of her! She has worked so hard, and even though she is uncomfortable, she rarely complains. She is so excited for the days ahead where she will get to spend time with her boys. You guys are growing everyday. Everyone is healthy, which is an incredible blessing. I love all of you very much, and I cannot wait until we are all together. We are 29 weeks strong...

I love you!

Love,
Dad

Time with the Doc...

Dear boys,

We are getting closer and closer to the day that you boys will arrive. At this point, you guys have been cooking for 28 weeks and 6 days. It won't be long now as we are coming down the home stretch. As the time passes, you guys continue to get bigger and bigger. Your mommy is growing too. Don't tell her that I said that.

Today, I was able to go with your mom to the doctor. It has been awhile since I have been able to see you guys. So, I was super excited to get to see you boys and how much you have grown.

As of right now, you both are very healthy. We have been very blessed thus far. You are both are growing so well. Boston is up to 2 pounds and 11 ounces, and Braxton is up to 2 pounds and 14 ounces. At this point, Boston has the bigger head and Braxton the longer legs. The ultrasound technician predicted that Boston would be a Stanford graduate and Braxton would be the Olympic track star. So, we will see what happens. But, no matter what, your mother and I love you guys very much and we cannot wait for your arrival. Keep growing and we will see you soon.

I love seeing you boys and how much you are growing. It is incredible. I cannot believe that in less than a couple months, I will be a dad to two awesome boys. I cannot wait.

I love you so much!

Love,
Dad

Special Sunday...

Dear Boston & Braxton,

Today is a very special day. Every year, on a day in April, we take some extra time to remember our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We should always remember Jesus and everything that he has done for us. But, on a Sunday in April, we take some extra time to remember him the way we always should. Easter is such a special time.

Jesus came to this world in humble circumstance. He was born in a manger, in a stable. He was born to humble, amazing parents specificially chosen by our Heavenly Father. He was not greeted like the King that he was. He dedicated his life to serving and loving others. He walked this Earth and shared his teachings with millions. He didn't live like a Prince. He lived humbly. He lived to teach others. He spent his time on Earth doing the work of his Father. He came to this Earth to share his light and show us the way we should go.

And, in the end, he suffered. He bled from every pore for us. He felt all our pains. He took upon him the sins of the world, so that we could return to live with him one day. He lived a perfect life. He was a shining example of what we could only hope to be. He was crucified by those that didn't understand. He was beaten, spit on, and forced to carry his own cross. He died for us. But, that was not the end. He would be resurrected and return to the right hand of our Father in Heaven. And, one day, if we live worthily, we will return to live with Him.

I love you boys!

Love,
Dad

No Touchy...No Touch...

*This one is a work in progress, but I figured I would post the rough idea...

Are you kidding me?

Seriously?

Why is this happening?

Will this ever end?

When is it my turn?

This is the barrage of questions that currently bounce around my skull on a daily basis, each hitting with a resounding thud. I know what you are thinking, but the doctors voluntarily released me from the asylum based on my good behavior. Yes, the voices still talk to me, but I don’t talk back anymore. Well, unless I forget to take my meds. I can’t remember if I took them this morning or not…

Did someone say something? Anyone? Excuse me for a moment…“No way…we can’t do that…or that…THE Prrrreeeeeccccciiiioooouuussssssss.”

As, I was saying, I don’t have a problem. And, I was released on my own recognizance, so I have that going for me.

Enough about me, let’s just get to the point. Is there such thing as personal space? A bubble of safety? An area that belongs to you and only you? I believe there is, or, at least there should be. So, don’t wipe a booger in mine and I won’t hock a loogie in yours. It is really pretty simple. Don’t fart in my bubble and I won’t flatuate in yours. Gas from my ass is a little classier than yours. So, simply put, don’t wave your junk in my bubble and I won’t insert my privates in yours. Wow! This just got awkward. Still, if you don’t understand this, then I don’t have time for you.

Anyways, throughout life, people usually respect that space. Trips to Disneyland and foreign countries not included. If we exclude Disneyland and some foreign countries, people just don’t go around touching other people…well, except for that one time on the strip, but you were released on bail 24 hours later, so I guess it is alright.

However, when it comes to Disneyland…the gloves are off. It is the perfect cocktail of foreigners, clueless people, and vertically challenged, overly excited people (aka children) that are right at that perfect hit for catastrophe to occur. I vividly remember standing in line for The Haunted Mansion and feeling two tiny hands on my butt checks. At that moment, I turned to my wife with a big smile and said, “At least wait until we are in the dark.” She looked confused. Then, without warning a head butt to my crotch sent stars to my head. And, I am not talking about the good stars…I am not talking about the bow-chicka-wow-wow stars. The Barry White CD was not playing in the background. They were the “I think I might possible have an exploded testicle stars”. I doubled over as a mom apologized to me for her son’s violation of my privates. I winced and turned my head to see a small Asian woman grinning at me. And, what do you know…her tiny hands were still on my cheeks.

There is one other instance when personal space disappears. The bubble is popped and one no longer has an area to call their own. I have observed, first hand, that woman is pregnant; people suddenly lose all respect for personal space. Is there a law somewhere that states, "Statue 127-b: All persons shall respect the personal bubbles of others up until the time a person becomes pregnant, at which point, persons may take the liberty to violate the pregnant woman's personal space and privacy by treating her like the latest attraction at the petting zoo". It must be written somewhere, because that is exactly what happens.

Why is it suddenly appropriate for you to touch my wife’s belly? Why? Please let me know because I am confused. Is it because you know she slept with me? Trust me; there wasn’t a lot of sleeping going on. That is what got us here to begin with. Is the fact that you know she is taken condone your actions of affection.

I feel like I am ranting a little. But, random strangers are attracted to my wife’s belly. They feel a need to have a moment with it. People we have never met will lay their hands on my wife’s belly before we even have a chance to stop it.

Elderly ladies are the worst. They are drawn to the belly like Tiger Woods to waitresses, teen girls to Justin Beiber, or Gollum to the ring. They must have the precious.

You could easily change the movie “Lord of the Rings” to “Lord of the Babies”. Simply insert a pregnant woman for Frodo, her belly for the ring, and an army of elderly women for the forces of the Evil Lord Sauron, and you can pretty much have the same story.

Picture this scene…a young child walking through the mall with his mom when he suddenly spots a gumball machine. Before spotting the machine, he was behaving. He was walking close by and being relatively quiet. But, at the sight of the gumball machine, all hell breaks loose. And, I am not talking about just any ole’ gumball machine. I am thinking about the ones where the gumball must travel through a modified version of Mousetrap before reaching its final destination.

If you haven’t seen what I am talking about…then you didn’t look at the picture above!

Kids love these things. They will beg, cry, and throw tantrums just to put a quarter in one. They don't really care about the gum. It is just the spectacle. It is the same with old ladies and a pregnant woman. When a pregnant woman dares bring her belly out in public, the alarm sounds. And, the old ladies respond, wide eyed and eager to lay their hands on a complete stranger. They make a b-line to the belly coming at it with determined, wide eyed, and eager for some belly time.

As big as the belly may be, it is not Buddha’s so there is no reason to rub it. It is not going to change your life. It is not going to bring luck. It is only going to bring awkwardness and a possible roundhouse kick to your ankle.

People will ask us if they can pet our dogs before doing so, but with the belly, they just go for it. If they do ask, it is usually because we give them the “stank face”. However, they don’t ask until their hands are already on the belly. What is that about? It is a little too late to ask now. Your hands are already there now. My butt itches; can you scratch it for me since you already here?

My wife will now just start growling at people when they get near her belly. As soon as the hand starts to move, she growls. If they continue to pursue the idea, she may let out a bark or two. If that doesn’t stop the issue, she will snap at them and begin foaming at the mouth. Protect what is yours.

If you are a belly toucher, you have been warned.

No Touchy...No Touch….unless you want to touch my belly. If that is the case, please feel free. No applications or permission required. Touch away. After all, I have been working on this thing for 27 years not just 9 months.

Say What?!!...

Suddenly, I feel like I am learning to speak all over again. My life has been bombarded with new words, if you can call them words. Because with pregnancy, new terminology is thrown at you as if you graduated at the top of your class from John Hopkins University and have been a resident at the medical center for years. It is a jumble of hubbub...see, now I am making up words because I'm not even sure what that means. And, I know a lot, because I have the highest score on Wii's Big Brain Academy. Of course, I am the only one that has played, because who still plays Wii. But, you are all still jealous, I know. Did I also mention I am undefeated in Operation. This includes the original, Shrek, and Star Wars versions.

That pretty much makes me a doctor. Just don't ask me to play the Cars or the Wall-E versions because I don't know anything about cars or robots. PS: R2D2 is a droid and not a robot. Nerds! Noobs! Or something like that.

Anyways, back to this terminology thing. They start out with words like "pregnancy" and "baby". That is confusing enough. We could stop right there to avoid a panic attack. I mean, how did this even happen? Oh yeah, that one night - OR - was it that other night - OR - that other time - OR - that one time when I took a long lunch - OR - wait, there was that one time in the conference room...Whoops! That is what the kids call TMI, but we will get to acronyms later, plus my parents and in-laws are reading this blog so I will spare you the details. Calm down everyone! Put the lotion away. I know it is hard to scroll with dry hands, but you will survive.

Then, they hit you with the words "babies", "twins", and "two". Now, wait a minute...I know they were a lot of long nights, but I don't think that it works that way. After all, I did only take one semester of anatomy in college, but I am not sure what that counts for. I may have to call my dad. He might have been misinformed. Or I wasn't listening. But, when he was talking about two-a-days, I thought he was talking about basketball practice.

When you talk to your OBGYN, she brings up all these crazy terms that sound like some sort of phobia. Maybe I have a phobia of medical terms...does anyone know the name of that? Wait, don't tell me, it would just scare me. I mean, what in the heck does OBGYN stand for anyways? I mean, c'mon, I am just going to start making up acronyms for words I use. Here are a few from my personal catalog; B-Day, X-Mas, ASAP, FYI, LOL, WTF. That's right...why the face? Now, fix that step Phil.

TERMS...or...Words like "placenta", "womb", "cervix", "dilated", "contraction"...which is not a word with an apostrophe t ('t). My second grade teacher lied to me. There seems to be a theme here. My wife is talking right now, but I am not listening. Anyways, the OBGYN continues on with the words "breastfeeding", "cervical mucus", "Lamaze", "Kegel" and "water leakage". These are all confusing for a guy like me. So, let's tackle these one by one.

First: "Breastfeeding" - I know a lot about her breasts, believe me. Those things got us into this predicament. And, they have never fed me anything. I may have done the impossible. I may have ruined breasts.

Second: "Cervical Mucus" - I am not sure what a "cervical" is, but I am pretty sure that mucus is NEVER a good thing.

Third: "Lamaze" - I am a big fan of the European circuit of car racing too, but I am not sure why my OBGYN (yes, she is mine too, I am pregnant after all.) talks about it while in between my wife's legs. She must really like car racing. And, why do we have to pre-register? It is on ESPN8, The Ocho, all the time.

Fourth: "Kegel" - I heard this is an exercise, but it is not on any of the P90X DVDs. So, I am still confused.

Fifth: "Water Leakage" - Why? And, does mucus come with it?

So, after being traumatized by our OBGYN, I am a little on edge. So, with that, I have some more stuff to rant about. Previously, I mentioned how irritated I was with random people touching my wife's belly. Now, I am also irritated with people saying random, stupid stuff. The following words and phrases are deemed unacceptable by those of us in the medical field (remember, I have one semester of anatomy and am the Operation champion):

First: "Fetus" - Really? It is a baby. I do not care what the doctors call it. I call it a baby. So, if you ask me about our fetus, I will slap you in the throat. Just ask our OGBYN, she is still recovering.

Second: "Prego" - You have to be kidding me? Prego?!! Are you asking me if my wife is a tomato based sauce? Is she marinara or spaghetti sauce? Unless I eat it off her, she is neither.

Third: "Preggers" - I'm lost! Weren't all the dinosaurs extinct? Is Jurassic Park real? Because last time I checked none of the dinosaurs got Noah's memo. But, maybe that mosquito-tree sap thing worked out.

Fourth: "Do you know what you are having?" - Well, I hope that it is a baby. But, a "Monkey Weilding the Flaming Sword of Doom" would be cool too. After all, I already have the unicorn.

Fifth: "Are you expecting?" - Expecting what? A million dollars? A new car? To win the Republican nomination? To that, I answer all of the above.

If you can't understand why I am mad, then I don't have time for you.

Until next time...that's it...until next time.

Be Prepared...

After attending Kindergarten at the prestigious Shelley Elementary in American Fork, Utah, on a finger painting scholarship, I knew that I was going to be great. After all, I was the "Gator's Student of the Month", had one week of perfect attendance, and got two gold stars for my finger painting titled "Monkey Wielding the Flaming Sword of Doom While Riding on the Back of a Majestic Unicorn". Catchy title I know. The original masterpiece is hanging in the Smithsonian and is guarded nightly by Brunden...if you don't know who Brunden is, I don't have time for you. If you can't see the monkey, the flaming sword, or a unicorn then you obviously don't have any imagination at all, and I feel sorry for you.

Needless to say, art is in my blood.

After Kindergarten, I held the world in my hands. So, growing up, I had some huge aspirations. After all, my parents always told me that I could be anything I wanted to be. Now, that is one load of crap that I won't tell my boys. It gives false hope, because no matter how hard I worked, I could never be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. It just wasn't in the cards for me. A GI Joe was a possibility, maybe even a Thundercat, but a Ninja Turtle was out of reach. So was a Transformer! No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't change into a cement truck. That's right, I am the guy that chooses to transform into a cement truck, and why not?

Looking back on it now, I couldn't grow that thick of a moustache, so GI Joe was out of the question.

With that, I changed my aspirations, and they were huge. That's right, I was a real go-getter. I aspired to beat Super Mario Bros. 3 on Nintendo without using a warp whistle. I know what you are thinking..."Justin, that is absolutely crazy". But, I am a rebel gamer...that's how I do things. So, after countless hours of smashing goombas, kicking turtle shells, and sliding down green pipes, I completed my goal and felt like Leonardo DiCaprio when he screamed, "I am the King of the World". PS: I am still awaiting the check from James Cameron for stealing my line and using it in Titanic. I vividly remember standing on my couch, the box fan pointed at my face, arms spread, and screaming that same line after I saved Princess Peach from Bowser's evil grasp. And, this was far before 1999. They owe me a piece of the pie.

My aspirations didn't stop there, even though they could have after achieving such a lofty goal which I still put it on my resume in the skills section...Completion of Super Mario Bros. 3 without using a single warp whistle. More often than not, it really "WOWS" the person hiring. After my Mario exploits, as completed as I felt, I knew there had to be more to this little thing we call life.

With Mario completed and my hopes of being a Transformer, GI Joe, Thundercat, or Ninja Turtle dashed, I had to find other avenues. Who knew that a trip to Disneyland would change my aspirations. One night while waiting in line for the ride Pirates of the Caribbean, it clicked. I could be a pirate; a swashbuckling, scurvy sea dog, pillaging and plundering the Seven Seas. I could hunt treasure and become the most notorious pirate in history. As these thoughts were crossing my mind, I glimpsed a Chinese man holding up a multi-colored light saber in the air and walking swiftly towards Splash Mountain. The light saber gleamed like a beacon, a lighthouse, leading the way. On his heels trailed what appeared to be a nation of Chinese followers. That was it, I could be a tour guide. So, there I was, at the age of 8, deadlocked on whether I would be a pirate or a tour guide in the future.

For those of you that know me, you know I never became a pirate due to the fact I get seasick and cannot even ride a Waverunner at Lake Mead without vomiting. And, the tour guide thing didn't pan out. It seems Asians want to follow Asians...who knew? All the time spent honing my skills was wasted or so I thought.

I tell you that long winded story to get us to the point I actually want to share. Sorry, it takes me a while to get there sometimes.

Have you ever had an embarrassing moment that you will never forget?

We all have. In some, we are embarrassed for ourselves. In others, we are embarrassed for someone we love. And, sometimes, we are just embarrassed and we aren't sure why.

Funny thing about pregnant women, they have to urinate all the time. They need the restroom early and often. When the urine is ready to flow, it is now or never. Since this is our first pregnancy, I am still learning. I wasn't prepared. Being an Eagle Scout, you would think I would follow the motto of "Be Prepared", but I didn't. And, the result was urine on the floor of Aisle 6 of Hobby Lobby. This unfortunate accident lead me to utilize the skills I developed in pirating and tour guiding.

Once again, I had a mission. For the next two days, I wandered around stores and restaurants in Boulder City, Henderson, and Las Vegas. I never purchased anything. I was just the creepy guy walking in places with a notebook jotting down who knows what on a pad of paper. I went to Applebee's, Michael's, Wal-Mart, Target, Baby 'R' Us, McDonald's, Five Guys (may have purchased something there), and countless other places. All in the name of not having urine spilled on Aisle 6 again.

At this point, I know where every bathroom is in seven zip codes. I can tell you where the nearest bathroom is to your current location at anytime. I can tell you how many paces it takes to reach said bathroom and let you know how many stalls it has. I can tell you what type of toilet paper they use and give you a cleanliness rating from 1-10. At his point, I am prepared. No more urine will be spilled on my watch...at least not for another 10 weeks or so...

From now on "X" marks the stall.

PS: I may or may not have prejuried myself regarding urine on the floor at Hobby Lobby. At this point, my lawyers have instructed me to plead the 5th.

What About Me...

What about me?!!

You laugh, but I am serious

What about me?!!

On a daily basis, I ask myself that question. Sometimes, I am angry. Sometimes, I am frustrated. Somtimes, I am emotional. But, in all seriousness, "What about me?!!"

Being pregnant is hard. I know. I am pregnant too. I have gained weight. I am always hungry. I can't sleep. I'm tired all the time. I cannot get comfortable. I toss and turn at night. My body aches. I cry for no reason. My feet are swollen. I pee constantly. And, I feel like a planet orbitting the sun. See, I'm pregnant too...I have all the symptoms...well, minus the babies.

So, again, the question remains, "What about me?!!"

This is a question that guys have secretly asked for years. Be honest, I am not the only one that is ashamed of this fact...but willing to admit it. I mean, think about it. It has been and always will be about the woman. Forever! We have to chase them. We have to ask them out. We have to pay for the dates. We have to propose. Then, the wedding comes. At the wedding, we could not even show up and the result would be the same. No one wants to see the groom, everyone wants a glimpse of the bride. But, it doesn't stop there.

Now, that my wife is pregnant, the question always is..."how is your wife?" or "how is the wife feeling?" It is never about me. No one ever asks me how am I feeling. And, like I said before, I'm pregnant too.

PS: Please don't ask me how I am doing!

PS+S: Thank you to everyone who continues to ask how Meagan is. We really appreciate it.

If I Tell You...

**A Typical Trip to the Grocery Store**
(as relayed by my wife)...

Cold, bitter, judging eyes gazed upon my body as if I were a species of mutant or an alien from a isolated, remote planet in a galaxy far, far away. As I waddled, shuffled, wobbled, and hobbled, I could sense the piercing stares growing with each step. The ogling came from every direction. The gawking was beginning to get to me. I felt uncontrollable anger boiling inside me as I held back the tears. The waterworks were about to start, and the terrifying sobs that pierced the airways just yesterday when the car's side view mirror broke were on their way...regardless of what the Department of Homeland Security had to say about it. Yesterday the cries alarmed the Air Force, Army, Navy, and Marines. So, as much as I wanted to cry, sob, and scream, I couldn't afford to be considered a threat to national security again. Captivity for another 24 hours just wouldn't suit me. And, I am not really a fan of the ankle bracelet.

My mission was essential. I could NOT fail. This truly was a life or death mission. If I did not succeed, I would be better off going off the grid. Making a run for Mexico and then to a non-extradition country would be my only hope for survival. But, failure was not on my mind. This was just one of many missions that left me meandering through Albertson's frozen food section at 11:21 p.m.! Why 11:21 p.m.? I can't tell you or I would have to kill you. This tape will self destruction in 10 seconds...

As I moseyed past the Albertson's brand, past the Breyer's, past the Dreyer's, (really Breyer's and Dreyer's...someone is a thief) past the Haagen-Dazs, and past the Top Hat (Not even sure what that is or if it is editable)...I may or may not have stopped for a popsicle along the way. I pushed forward, a little short of breath, to the Ben & Jerry's. My mission was almost half over as I felt the frosty air upon my face as my hand, slightly shaking and sticky from dripping popsicle, grasped a pint of Red Velvet Cake ice cream. Carpe diem! It was MINE..all MINE! I should have just grabbed the Red Velvet Cake ice cream and immediately retreated to the safe house, but it just didn't happen. My eyes glimpsed a pint of Chunky Monkey, but it didn't stop there. Brownie Batter, Banana Split, Cake Batter, Cheesecake Brownie, Cherry Garcia, Cookie Dough, Chubby Hubby and numerous other flavors somehow found their way into my shopping cart. They joined my army of snacks; pickles, Snickers, Reese Peanut Butter Cups, Nacho Cheese requiring only a spoon, Olives, and those little Mexican candy bars that are better once they are in the freezer. It was time to leave as my window was running out. Still, that didn't stop me for stretching out my sticky hand for one last pint of ice cream. After all, I didn't want to return to this place of cream filled paradise again tonight. My hand cupped a pint of Schweddy Balls, and with that, I realized I had a problem (not nearly as funny as what I wanted to write...but this is a publicly search able site on the Internet).

As I struggled to waddle away from the glorious pints of heaven, I saw my reflection surrounded by pints of all flavors. Look at me...my hair was a mess. The bags under my eyes had darkened, and I might have caught a peep of a wrinkle on my left cheek (on my face, not my butt...geez people). My lips were red and my tongue was blue from the Firecracker popsicle I indulged in minutes earlier. I was clad in pajama pants featuring the likes of dancing monkeys wearing sombreros, but I didn't stop there. I was here to make a fashion statement. Just below my dancing monkeys, I sported some spotted pink socks(undoubtedly changed from white in a washing machine accident) with some brown flip flops. Yes, socks and sandals...hello 1981! As my eyes ventured upwards, I saw the pinnacle of my ensemble, a fluorescent green NKOTB tee. If you don't know what NKOTB is...then I don't have time for you. My awesome tee featured a portion of my lunch, some of my leftovers from dinner, and a smidgen of my 9 p.m. snack. This beautiful display of stains and food residue accompanied my growing belly. I had put hours of work placing the final touches on my get-up!

Using my shopping cart as a crutch, I made my trek to the checkout. It was long and tedious, but this mission had to be completed. The eyes were on me once again. I could feel the stares as they consumed me. "Judge me," I thought...really? As I rolled up to the 20 items or less line, the clerk eyed me with a disappointing gaze. She looked in my basket and then at my belly. "This line is for customers with less tha...," she said. My "stink-face" interrupted her cruel words. Or maybe it was the tears that started to form in my tired eyes. But, most likely, it was the indescribable, ear drum shattering noise that began to leave my mouth. It was an eerily similar sound to an African Bull Elephant in labor that I had once seen on the Discovery Channel. At any rate, she changed her tune really quick, and she was lucky she did. She didn't want to mess with me in my current, overemotional, extremely illogical, slightly unstable, and certifiably psychotic state. It was better for the sake of national security that she didn't test me.

The collection of ice cream, candy bars, pickles, olives, nacho cheese, and Little Debbie snack cakes set me back a few Bennies, but the mission was a success. I was leaving with a smile as I proudly flaunted my rounding belly as it protruded from underneath my styling tee. People would stare. They would gaze, they would gawk, they would ogle, they would judge, but in the end, who cares?! After all, I'm pregnant!

That's right...I am PREGNANT. I could shout it from the rooftops. I am PREGNANT with TWINS!!!

In the safety of my car, I blasted some George Michael 'Father Figure' and sped off. I was pulling into my subdivision roughly "OH-19 minutes" after I departed. I had been given strict instructions to be back in less than 20. I sped around the corner, tires screeching as children dove for safety. My eyes were glued to the clock as each second ticked away faster than the one before. I saw the garage door start to inch downward. This was it! A decision had to made...either I smash down the accelarator, aim the wheel for the garage and hope I slip haphazardly beneath its closing jaws -OR- I turn around now, never look back, and make the run for Mexico where I meet up with a guy named Pablo who will fly me to the jungles of Peru. Sure, they would chase me, but I could live off the grid in secret. The decision must be made in an instant. A warm smile flashed in my mind and I gunned it for the garage. The scent of burning rubber filled the air as innocent on-lookers turned their heads in horror. Sparks jumped into the atmosphere as the garage door knicked the end of my Dodge Journey. I screeched to a stop just before I hit the wall. I had done it! Carpe diem! There seems to be a theme here...

I sat there in the darkness of my lair; the smell of burnt rubber, urine, and the scent of Little Debbie snack cakes that I opened on the way home filled the air. Suddenly, the door opened. It was my master! My master looked pleased, turned to the side, and rubbed her growing belly. "We all SCREAM for ICE CREAM!" She smiled as I unloaded the bags of goodies and handed off a pint of Ben & Jerry's Banana Split ice cream with a can of Nacho Cheese. She sat down on the couch happily and began to indulge. "You made it just in the nick of time hunny! You were almost better off running to Mexico," she laughed.

I smiled nervously and thought to myself..."you don't know how close I came." But, instead, I replied, "Give me a break, I'm pregnant with twins too, you know."

To which she replied, "Hunny, I need a fried Twinkie to dip in this nacho cheese".

And, with that, I had been tasked with another mission. My life and national security hung in the balance, and, like before, I would not fail. As I grabbed my keys, I thought to myself..."Where in heck can I get a fried Twinkie at 11:41 p.m.?" Why 11:41 p.m.? I can't tell you or I would have to kill you!

THE END

I Am Not Alarmed...

Dear readers (men and women alike),

Time for a little advice...

Advice...I am not sure if I ever have any good advice to give, but I'll give it a shot anyways. Maybe I will get lucky!

*PLEASE PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THE EVENTS TO FOLLOW ARE TRUE AND HAVE BEEN VERIFIED BY MULTIPLE WITNESSES. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.*

When Meagan got pregnant, I started reading a book to prepare me with helping her throughout her time carrying the boys around. It is truly a life changing experience to go through together. Meagan and I have grown closer and closer everyday as we have shared the news of upcoming arrivals, prepared the nursery, visited the doctors office, looked at ultrasound pictures of the boys, and talked about how our lives are forever going to be changed for the better due to their arrivals. It is a busy, stressful time that is also filled with excitement and happiness. However, there are a lot of things to prepare for. With that in mind, I dove into a book that every expectant father should read.
"Beware of the flurry of emotionally driven, sometimes hostile hormone attacks that invade and control, by impulse, the joy, sorrow, reverence, hate, grief and love of an expectant woman. Because of these powerful and complex occurrences, a need has arisen - a need for sympathy, a need for adaptable communication, a need stamped in the hearts of all pregnant women that screams, 'understand me! Please!'"
With a warning like that, I couldn't help but read it. And, it has made a world of difference. It gives serious tips in a light hearted and humorous manner. He goes on to say "By educating the pregnant male, I will dismantle the communication barriers that have been constructed by what I call the 'hormone hobbits.' Those busy little emotional trolls pop up at will with only one agenda: to confuse."
Lucky for me, Meagan has not had too many "hormone hobbits" for us to deal with. Well, except when she broke the car mirror by hitting the trashcan as she backed out of the garage. She called my sobbing uncontrollably. I thought she killed someone. All she could get out, between the manic, pulsating, ear wrenching, painful sobs was "When...*high pitched sob*...I...*nasal sob*....was...*ear drum shattering sob*...backing...*slightly controlled sob*...out...*louder sob*...I...*even louder sob*...hit....*uncontrollable sob*.......*sobbing, sobbing, and more sobbing*.
I have heard dying animals on the African Plains that are being torn apart by lions (nice visual) make less noise. From what I have heard, Vietnam War Veterans (bless them) have nightmares about my wife's sobs. People voluntarily locked themselves in the solitary confinement section of maximum security prisons to avoid hearing her cries. I am not exaggerating, as I am not known to exaggerate.
So, there I am...on the phone...in suspense. Wondering, just wondering, if my children were going to be born in a women's prison. Because, from what it sounded like, my wife must have just went on a rampage. She must have lost it and went off the deep end...again (the first event was sticken from the record). She must have mowed down a group of children as they were walking to the school bus. In no way am I purposely poking fun at serious and horrible accidents. I am just trying to put in perspective the fear that overcame my body as I experienced the sobs shattering my ear drums. I was not sure if a demonic possession had occurred or if it was some sick, twisted prank call. I half expected a little clown to roll up on a tricycle behind me while a matching, terrifying puppet appeared on my computer screen and uttered the words, "Wanna play a game?". And, to be honest, at that point, I probably would have chosen the game. I would have gladly left my iPhone at my desk and followed the clown into whatever dark, damp, twisted room he instructed me to go into.
But, I love my wife. Too much maybe...just kidding! I could never love her enough. So, as I pondered if and how often they would let me visit her while she was in the "joint", the "pen", the "big house", the "slammer", the "clink" or whatever you want to call it, a tear, just one...because I am tough, filled my eye. Yes, just one eye! Real men cry, but they only use one eye for that purpose. The other eye is strictly used to look out for an ambush by ninjas, assassins, and pirates. Like I always say...that combo of killing machines will never get the upper hand on me. Like Chuck Norris, I sleep with one eye open.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by what sounded like an African Bull Elephant giving birth. The painful sob was once again my beautiful, loving wife. I may lose my hearing, but, at least, I can still look at her. She started...AGAIN... *African Bull Elephant in labor sob*...I...*hyperventalating sob*...was...*not sure how to describe it sob*...backing..."
At that point, I remembered Tip #4: Think Before You Respond to a Pregnant Outburst. "Men, when she begins to cry over what seems to be a very insignificant thing, STOP AND THINK!" As good as this advice is...you have to remember that I still do not know what she did. She could have spilled the milk. She could have forgotten her lunch. She could have thought her hair looked silly. She could have remembered a time in 6th grade when she cheated on a math test. She could have run over a litter of puppies. She could have set fire to the entire Amazon rain forest. I didn't know! So, in this case, the problem was that I had time to "STOP AND THINK". But, I had no idea what in the heck I was supposed to be thinking about.
With that, I remembered Tip #5: Second That Emotion. "She may begin to be unstable in areas in which she used to be pretty solid, forgetful where she was usually on top of things, frustrated where she used to be quite calm, sad for no reason and she may even start to cry right out of the blue. Don't be alarmed!" Yeah right! At that point, I am thinking...if the zombie apocalypse started right now, I wouldn't be alarmed. If suddenly spiders the size of horses started meandering down the streets, I wouldn't be alarmed. That's right...very large spiders meander...look it up. If 2Pac, Biggie, Eazy E, Johnny Cash, Elvis, John Lennon, Amy Winehouse and Whitney Houston appeared in front of me and began belting out a new collaboration that was dedicated to me and titled "Don't be alarmed!"...I wouldn't be alarmed. But, when sounds that could easily be mistaken as the cries of millions of innocent, cute and cuddly baby seals as they are slaughtered emanated from my cellular device, I was ALARMED! So, tip #5, shame on you! You had failed me just like the one that came before.
Then, it hit me. Literally, the book fell off the shelf at my desk at hit me right in the face. The sound waves from my phone were so strong that they knocked the book down. It was like an epiphany. As the book attacked my large, slightly crooked, possibly still broken noise, the #11 was all that I could see. Just like in the cartoons, a light bulb went on above my head. Again, literally...someone must have leaned on a light switch. But, with the lights on...someone was home. I thumbed clumsily through the pages until I found it. Angels sang from the heavens above..."Hallelujah, hallelujah". I was saved! The sobbing was still coming down hard, but Mount Vesuvius hadn't erupted yet. But, I would have been a fool if I couldn't see how close it was. It was angry. It was unstable. It was going to BLOW. Every second was precious. Hide yer kids, hide yer wife.
But, like Superman stopping a runaway train, like Batman stopping a bus full of children from driving off a cliff, like Napoleon Dynamite catching a delicious bass, or like Superwoman forgetting to shave her legs...there it was. Simple and plain. Tip #11: Beware the Aggrevation of Exaggeration. "She may have a tendency to exaggerate everything, especially if she is frustrated about anything! You must become a master of coolheadedness." Even though she could have possibly done something horrible, I let my coolheadedness take over. I calmly used a soothing voice (think Barry White) and said, "I love you baby. Please try to relax. Every little thing will be alright (think Bob Marley)." With that, she started to calm down. The moans of the African Bull Elephant in labor mixed with the cries of baby seals, combined with screams of demonic possession that were followed by weezing sobs of a hyperventalating giant began to slowly fade away. And, with that, the mood instantly changed. She said, in a clear and coherent almost chipper voice, "I broke the side mirror on the car while backing out of the garage".
My first thought was..."You have to be *$#!%#@ kidding me! Seriously, all this over a mirror. I thought you killed someone." But, my response was, "Oh, no problem babe. It is no big deal. We will just get it fixed. I love you so much cookie face". The words left my mouth sincere and soft. They were loving and calm. But, in my head, I thought again to myself..."It was no big deal, but you decided to turn it into one. You pyschotic, beautiful, crazy, loving, unstable, incredibly awesome wife of mine. I love you even though you just sent me on a rollercoaster with missing wheels and no lap bar, but what the heck, the loop-d-loop and crockscrews wil be fun. After all, I am not alarmed! To this day, I still jolt up in the middle of the night, covered in a cold sweat, shaking, and unable to speak or move. The only thing that helps is sucking my thumb while laying in the fetal position until the ear shattering screams disapate. They will never leave me. I will never be the same.
But...I AM NOT ALARMED!
This post will not be shared with my children until at such time I deem fit. These views are strictly the views of Justin Barrow and do not represent the views of Meagan Barrow or the Barrow Household. Copyright 2012. All rights reserved.
PS: A motion picture of the events of this day is currently being filmed at our home in Henderson, NV. These true events may be unsuitable for children under the age of 13. Extreme night terrors will follow the viewing of the picture. It is truly the most horrorific movie of all time. Please watch with caution upon its release.

Justin Barrow
PS+s: I may or may not have over dramatized the events above.

Floating Away...

Dear Sssssssoooooooooonnnnnnsssssss,

I'mmmmmm fffflllllloooooaaaaattttiiinnggggggggggggg aaaaaaawwwwwaaaayyyyyyy!

After loading up the car on Saturday with all the wonderful gifts that were given to us at the shower, I got a little nervous. Yeah, I will admit it. As tough as I am, I got a little worried. Doesn't happen often! But, there was so much stuff and yet you two still need more. Sometimes, I wonder how I am going to provide you guys with everything you need. I was shaken but not stirred...that's James Bond for you! When I wear a hat, some people get Bond, James Bond and Barrow, Justin Barrow confused. Not sure why since James Bond never wears a hat, but, at any rate, only my beautiful head gives me away.

Anyways, I went out to the courtyard to think and just happened to be carrying some of the balloons from the shower...for a small moment, I thought I could make my escape. Slowly, the balloons lifted me off the ground. I was starting to float away. I screamed "I'mmmmmm fffflllllloooooaaaaattttiiinnggggggggggggg aaaaaaawwwwwaaaayyyyyyy!". As I was floating away, your mommy ran out and snatched me right out the air. She botched my escape plan. I was getting away at an amazing rate too. I was, at least, three and one quarter inches off the ground. Another couple days and I would have been too high for her to reach me...but, she caught me in the nick of time. And, I am so glad she did.

I would never go anywhere without my family. I love all of you too much. Plus, I didn't have Marley with me. And, I can't leave Marley. I am just kidding. I love you boys so much already. And, I couldn't survive without your mom. Mac & Cheese is only good for so many meals...I mean, even Shane gets tired of it...eventually...I think. I need her! I need my boys! And, I need my pups!

A little while after your Mommy took my balloons away, I caught her secretly trying to escape using my plan. Lucky for me, you guys were weighing her down! So, she is stuck with me! Nice work fellas!

(To Mommy) Hunny, I see a little daylight beneath your sandals! Good job! Your are beautiful babe! After the boys arrive, I knew those balloons would take you away in an instant. So, I made sure you couldn't go away! I love you too much!

I am an EVIL genius! Like Dr. Evil, my master plans always work!

And, all of you...Mommy, Boston, Braxton, Marley, Mouse...you are all STUCK with me forever!
Loooooooovvvvvvveeeeeee Yoooooooooouuuuuuu!
Looooovvvvveeeeee,
Daaaaaaaadddddddddd

The Bachelor Pad...

Dear Boston & Braxton,

With only a short time left until you guys arrive, Mommy and I have been hard at work on your room. It is coming along nicely and in the coming weeks, we will be putting on the finishing touches. We are so excited for your room to soon be filled with laughter and even some tears...but, remember, crying is for babies.

This weekend, Mommy and I put bookshelves up in your room, but these aren't just any shelves. These are specially created bookshelves. See, you mommy always finds unique decorating ideas. And, she found a way to make bookshelves out of rain gutters. This weekend, we cut the rain gutters and put them on the wall. They make the best bookshelves and they look really good too. We are so excited for all the cool things in your room. We loaded up the shelves with lots of stories that we are going to read to you. And, as you get older, you boys will have quite the book collection.

Your mommy loves to read. Your daddy loves to write and all the reading he does helps with my writing. Books are a special thing and you will learn to love them. That is why we are starting you out with a collection of books. At the baby shower, people brought books instead of cards. Inside the books, they wrote special messages to you guys. What an awesome idea! And, now...you have quite the collection of stories that we can read together.

What do you think?

We love the shelves and all your books. Your mommy and I have already begun reading stories and plan on making it part of the nightly routine. So, get ready to pick out your favorite book for story time!

This weekend, Mommy and I also bought a new sign for your room. It has a special meaning to us and we think it will have one for you guys. Your guys are going to have such an amazing bond and be the best of friends. We are so excited for that. The sign is a quote from Winnie the Pooh. Pooh always has wonderful words of wisdom. Piglet is his best friend, and Pooh is not shy of letting anyone know that. His words describe friendship perfectly.

Friendship is a special bond. As twins, you will be more than brothers, you will be best friends. "Time could change much, but not that."

Your bachelor pad is coming along and it is looking great. We hope you enjoy it because we have enjoyed getting it ready for you guys. Soon, you boys will be here and we will spend a lot of time in your pad.

Lets Get Crunk...

Dear Party Animals,

One day, when each of you brings a girl home to meet your mom and I, I will show them the title of this post. That way, they will know just how "hip" and "cool" and "gangsta" your dad is. Yes, I just wrote "gangsta". I left off the "r" because I am that awesome. As far as "Lets Get Crunk...", I am not even sure what that is or what that means. I mean, I wasn't even invited to the party...thank goodness. I would have stole the show, and this was your mommy's day. What a DIVA!

Your Aunt Alexis, your Mema, and your Aunt Brittney (Erickson) planned an amazing party for your mom. Leading up to it, she was so excited. She talked about it all the time. She was so happy that Brittney and Alexis wanted to throw her a shower!

As your mommy got ready, I just watched her. I admired her incredible beauty. She had a huge smile on her face that I will never forget. She was simply stunning. She was glowing. She looked so beautiful in her new dress.

I dropped her off at the party a few minutes early, and as we walked in, I was amazed at how wonderful a job Alexis, Brittney, and Mema did. It was awesome. But, you two were the ONLY two boys allowed at this shindig, so I had to leave. Oh wait, Raiden got to attend and even took pictures, but he is the Lightning God, so I cannot compete with that. But, what I saw was awesome. And, Brittney made a sweet "Jordan Diaper Cake". And, that makes her incredible in my book (Don't let it go to your head Erickson).

Anyone who does anything Jordan is awesome in my book!

It is such a blessing to me that my beautiful wife has an amazing friend like Brittney. One that cares so much about her that she takes a lot of time out of her life to just make my wife and your mommy smile. What an incredible blessing friends are. She is truly amazing. And, she will be amazed that I wrote some kind words about her...because, I am usually giving her a hard time. But, she is pretty awesome, and you boys will be lucky to know her.

As awesome as Brittney thinks she is (see how I turned that around really quick? Sorry Brit!), she needed some help from Alexis and Mema to complete the masterpiece. Your Aunt Alexis is eccentric, might be crazy, but I wouldn't trade her for anyone. She is always smiling and laughing. Other than the "occasional" potty word, she is a great aunt to have. She really loves you guys and cannot wait to hold you...well, when you aren't awake. When I was growing up, I was lucky enough to have my Aunt Sue live with our family for a while. It is such a blessing that she lived with us. My Uncle D lived with us too at one time. He used to babysit your Uncle B and me. It is so wonderful to have family live with you and be part of your lives. It is great when they live close by, but it is much better when you see them EVERYDAY because they live with you.

I will never forget Saturday mornings with Uncle D or Wednesday nights with Aunt Sue. It was a special time when they were in our home as I was growing up. And, Meagan and I got to live with Kennedy and Shane when they were younger. We all lived at Grandpa and Grandma Imlay's house. It was so fun to see my little niece and nephew everyday and play with them. I am sure they will remember it and cherish the memories as they get older.

So, you boys have a great blessing to have Aunt Alexis living with us. She is a joy to have in our home, and we are so grateful that she is here. It will be a blessing for you boys to have her here, and I am sure it will be the same for her. She will get to see you very often, and it will help her with some life skills. Not to mention, she is able to save some cash so she can buy a house of her own one day. Mommy and Daddy did the same thing when they lived with grandpa and grandma. She will be a great aunt!

Your grandma, Mema, has done so much for your boys already. And, she continued by helping with the baby shower. She has given you boys a place to rest your little heads. She got us a place to change your diapers and so much more. WE all owe her a big thank you for her help. Mema and Tutu have given you boys very much already and you will be blessed to have so much family so close by. It makes life so much better when you are close to those who love you.

Well, now it is time to get CRUNK! Still not sure what that means...but check it! See, still "gangsta"...