Sunday, May 21, 2006


On Mother’s Day this year, I am forced to work. The News doesn’t rest for the holidays of God or man. And usually the lowest people on man’s totem pole will be found working on those holidays.

My job is fairly easy: go to a flower shop early in the morning and do a story on how employees are dealing with the last second rush. When I’m done, I decide to pick up some flowers to take home with me after work. Because this Mother’s Day is a pretty big deal, I go whole hog, one dozen red roses in an arty vase.

I tell the store owner about the twins and he goes into the back room and gets out two little teddy bears and places them in the arrangement. Normally, I’m not much for putting stuffed animals into flower arrangements, but these two bears are really cute and they actually look good with the roses. Also, the bears are really for our two (pretend, for now) boys, so it’s not like I’m giving my wife stuffed animals for Mother’s Day.

The owner tells me that the bears, due to the M&Ms tie in and something else that I don’t remember, are destined to become collector’s items. “Put them up on the wall, and they’re going to be worth something one day.” In my mind, I already know that our kids will drool on and ultimately ruin these little bears.

I take the arrangement home after work and get the kind of reception that makes me realize I need to buy flowers more often.

Later I’m watching the British House of Commons on C-SPAN, a Sunday night nerd ritual of mine. Julie is in her office looking at baby things on the internet. The bears are now sitting on the coffee table. Looks like someone was just playing with them.

And for a brief moment, it all becomes real to me. They don’t have names, but they’re already leaving their toys in the living room. I don’t quite know what to make of it. Looking at these two bears in M&Ms outfits, I’m at once moved and terrified. Part of me wants to pick the stuffed animals up and shove them in the faces of two little boys. Perhaps the silly outfits would make them laugh. Perhaps the soft fir would comfort or soothe them. Perhaps they would simply be baffled as to why that big, dopey guy with the floppy hair is shoving this object in their faces.

Of course, another part of me simply wants to retreat into a fantasy world where my adolescence is further extended and the next big life event is some fabulous trip to Turkey or New Zealand.

But there’s no getting around it, the kids are coming. Their stuff is already invading our house. Just yesterday I had to take my stuff out of the room I’d been using as my office. Now there are two cribs in the room. People have been mailing us little outfits and the occasional stuffed animal.

Even I have added to the clutter by getting this really cool Gorillaz print to hang in their room. It’s part of my ongoing strategy of buying cool things I really want under the guise of “it’s for the babies.” (I also employed this tactic to get an awesome Japanese stuffed pig!)

So I guess there really is no denying it. These kids are coming. Soon. Guess we should start thinking up names.


At 3:27 pm, Blogger thirdworstpoetinthegalaxy said...

Call me crazy -- or just plain self-centered -- but I think "Third Worst Poet" would be a great name!

At 11:19 am, Blogger pat said...

I really had no idea that our house was going to become kiddyville x 40. I mean, I know that babies need stuff...but man. It's borderline insane how much stuff these little beings can acrue.

Now I find myself tripping over all kinds of toys that make noise and gigantic strollers that are taking over my precious garage.

And twins. TWINS!!! I can only imagine.


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