Right now, its 5:30 AM and every breathing creature in our home is asleep except for me. There is nothing I want more than sleep. Uninterupted sleep in a warm bed. Instead, I have been reduced to weeping in the fetal position wrapped around this computer.
In the past month, I have watched so much television that I have exhausted the entire line-up of programming for the Travel Channel, ESPN, Discovery Channel, Food Network, History Channel and FX. As a result my ass now has its own gravitational pull. I have broken a toilet seat while seeking solace. And I have broken through a borrowed cane-bottom rocker to delight of my wife and children.
I have stubbed my toes on baby bouncers so many times that now my toes hurt constantly. I have held the chickens so much that I have a knot in my neck. I have gone days without a shower. It's a cold realization when you learn that the foul odor that you smell is not others but yourself.
And as if all of that is not enough to encourage anyone out there of having twins, I have withstood a vicious butt-vomit attack from one of my own daughters. Nothing is more degrading than yelling for backup from your wife while trying to cap a mini shit-geyser with first your bare hand, then a stack of new diapers.
All is not well at the Lucas home. We are broken down and exhausted. God did not intend for humans to have more than one baby at a time. We are now paying our penance.
I write all of this to write this: Happy one month old Killer Fighting Chickens!
Stay strong! Remember what doesn't kill us makes us stronger! (who the hell came up with this stupid saying anyone?)! Can't wait to see more pictures. Congratulations to you and Meaghan!!
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