Two is Better than One...If by Better You Mean More Tiring

Holy smokes!  I forgot to post last week!

I know, it must have been horrible for you all.  I'm sorry.  Maybe I will post two times this week to make up for it.  But, then again, I probably won't because I am lazy, and now that Two-zy has been up and walking for about a month, maybe 2-3 weeks (I can't remember honestly.  Yeah, I know I'm a terrible father.), I just seem to ooze out energy.  

Is it like that with you all too?  

I mean the second brat just seems more tiring to me.  It wasn't all that bad when Two-zy was all lumpish and just sat around all day, but now that the little brat is up and walking around, holy crap is it exhausticating to chase him around all day.

Well, to be honest it's not just chasing Two-zy around that is tiring.   Chasing Two-zy and his hellion brother, Pizzmeister, around is exhausting.  It just seems like the two of them together are just one bundle of bad ideas where somebody always get hurt or will get hurt if an adult type doesn't intervene.

It's strange to consider myself as an adult type person, but I kind of have to being as there is no one else around to assume the role.  I guess in my mind I still feel like the smug, little, assholish teeny bopper I was in highschool and definitely not the hugely overweight, lame-o 32 year old that I am actually.  

Some of the things that come out of my mouth these days just seem so weird.  How the hell did I become the voice of reason?  Never in a million years would I have thought that I'd be the one saying, "Hey man, you're going to hurt yourself if you jump off of that." or "Dude, you might better get off of that because you're going to fall."

And, of course, the Pizzmeister always replies, "Don't worry daddy.  I won't fall."  Of course, he usually is saying that while he is falling or momentarily before he falls, and instead of telling him "I told you so," I pick him up and snuggle him in an effort to make him feel better.

Then I think to myself, "Oh man! Where's the other one?! I  just put him down a second ago.  He couldn't have gone far...could he?"  

Sure enough, Two-zy, seeing that I am distracted for a moment, will take off, heading in the direction of the nearest danger, which is usually the stairs or anywhere where he can pull something down onto himself.  

Now, before you get all uppity and start yelling that I should have a baby gate, let me tell you this.  I do have a baby gate.  In fact, we have many baby gates set up through out the house, but I also have a three year old who knows how to take the baby gates down, and I have a Houdini baby who somehow either occasionally goes under or over them in the five seconds I take my eyes off of him to comfort the Pizzmeister, get snacks, milk, or what have you.

The little bugger is sneaky.

And, he always has this self-satisfied smirk on his face every time I catch him where he doesn't belong.  It always stings too.  Being out smarted by an 11 month old sucks.