Gas, Gas, Gas

How does that Rolling Stones song go? "But it's all right. I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash, it's a Gas! Gas! Gas!"

I have to admit, even though I'm 34 years old and have been around long enough to hear plenty of first-hand stories from family and friends about how to deal with babies, I'm learning new things on a daily basis. That being said, and as ignorant and simplistic as this may sound, I always assumed that the comfort and well-being of newborns depended on four things - keeping them fed, holding them on a regular basis, changing their diapers, and letting them sleep. As far as I knew, these were the full-proof ways that Brooks and I could stave off violent crying episodes by Mason and Ike and at least ensure that we could get an occasional two-hour reprieve from pure chaos. How wrong I was.

In the last few days I have come to realize that there’s a very important and little talked about x-factor (at least among guys) that can manifest itself in many different (and dangerous) forms – gas, or should I say, the release of gas. In the last two and half weeks I’ve come to fancy myself as a very skilled Dr. Brown’s bottle feeder, assuming that at the conclusion of each feeding either Mason or Ike would be content and fall fast asleep. Not to be. It’s the release of this painful gas, either orally or, well, you know the other method, that truly completes the feeding process and ensures that comfortable sleep will follow.

Now I’ve always been aware of “burping” a baby during the middle or at the end of a feeding, but “pooting” a baby??? Come on! Apparently I have achieved black-belt status in this discipline, one that far exceeds my skill in administering a bottle of formula or breast milk. It seems that every time I prop Mason or Ike up on my knee after a feeding, cup their chin with my hand and start patting their back to facilitate this release of gas, my thigh is jolted with a powerful (and loud) outburst of gas that reverberates up and down my thigh. Every time this happens, Brooks and I cannot help but laugh out loud at what just occurred. It’s truly amazing the comic relief that parents can find in their kids. But however these gaseous episodes manifest themselves the end result is always the same for Mason or Ike – pure relaxation – ensuring that Brooks and I will get our much coveted two-hour reprieve of crying.

I know it’s been a few days since I posted photos of the twins, so below are a few new pictures. This week Brooks has been helped out on a daily basis by my mom and Aunt Corinna, who came in from Winston-Salem (her daughter Bennett is expecting her first child in September). I’ve been resuming a full-time work schedule so the extra help is much appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has been helping out by bringing dinners by. We can’t thank you enough.