Too Tired to Think of a Clever Title. . .

On Sunday, April 27, Janell, Audrey, and I will be participate in the March of Dimes’ inaugural March for Babies at Lake Phalon in St. Paul. Having witnessed first-hand the “miracle” medical treatment available to premature babies like Audrey, we’re endeavoring to give something back. The March of Dimes’ mission is to help babies, and each of you has the opportunity to give your support. You can sign up to walk with us on the 27th as a member of Team Audrey Grace, or you can sponsor us in the March for Babies. If you choose to donate to our march, simply check the appropriate box on our web page: http://www.marchforbabies.org/audreygrace

By the way, as I type this, I am sprawled on the couch, my left foot rocking Audrey in her “bouncy chair,” soothing her. She’s on the verge of an outburst, but I think that if I keep her rocking, she’ll be content until we need to feed her in about 45 minutes, and maybe I‘ll get this entry completed. I figure I have about at 2% chance of this actually happening. And no, I can’t ask my wife to help - she’s downstairs on uploading pictures and I don’t want to interrupt her. So I will multitask and get this done and keep little Audrey content. But my foot is already getting sore, and Audrey is starting to squeak, so I’m going to have to lower those chances to about 0.2%.

It’s a small miracle when we get anything done around here. How do parents with twins manage? I feel like Adam Sandler in Click. All I want to do is write a nice little update online about our life a couple times a week, but that’s proving to be all but impossible. I’ve got research papers to grade, GRAD essays to score, a school web page to update, a house to clean, a yard to tidy up, a part-time job to tend to, a sleep-deprived wife to keep sane, and a daughter to feed every three hours. And someday I’d really like to get past page 20 of the Bill Bryson book I began reading three weeks ago, but that’s not looking good, either.

When told my students that we were having a baby, one rambunctious boy blurted, “Whadja do that for? Dude, you’ll never play Guitar Hero again.” Fifteen-year olds really struggle with impulse control. Well, he was wrong. Since his bold proclamation, I’ve played two times - New Year’s Eve and again in March when we had a couple of friends over for dinner. So there.

This is our life. And I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s perfect.

Ok, that was a blatant lie. There’s at least 13 or 14 things I would change, like. . .well, we’ll save that for another day.

PS. I started this brief little entry nearly three hours ago. And if you’ll excuse me, I will now go pound my head repeatedly on the dining room table.