We got the call at about 10:30 pm on Monday, May 24. I had just gotten back from the grocery store, after suffering a case of late night munchies and picking up an apple pie and, since I was there anyway, a turtle cake. Seems the girls had decided they didn’t want to wait until their scheduled arrival on Thursday. And they didn’t want grampa to be clogging any more arteries for a while.
Maci Paige was the first out, at a little after midnight on Tuesday, followed closely by her little sister, Kennedy Alexis.
I’m not sayin’ that the kids are braniacs, or anything, but Maci, knowing she was first, actually held up the “Number 1” sign for the first picture her dad took of her. Kennedy, destined to be the humanitarian of the brood, showed the “peace” sign in hers. They’re not identical twins, so I haven’t had to get one or both of them tattooed for ID. Maci looks just like James and Kennedy looks just like Megan – the exact opposite of what we thought would happen, based upon their completely different activity in the womb.
They were/are, to say the least, perfect, weighing in at just under 6 pounds each and at 19 & 20 inches. I won’t bore you with the minute details. Not because it wouldn’t be like me to do that, it’s just that I’m not straight yet on all those weights and lengths and stuff.
Mom and dad are doing great, and learning the joys of three-hour feedings, times 2, in between all the diaper changing, etc. We’re trying to let them nest a while, so the twincesses can get used to their new home, but I’ve had to purchase some shackles for Grannie Bec and have some big metal hoops installed in the brick wall on the patio. Fact is, they’re so dang cute, everybody’s playing the lottery now, trying to get rich so they can quit work and sit and stare at them all the time.
They went home from the hospital on Saturday. Sunday, as we were sitting, phone in hand, waiting for the call telling us they needed some help, it came. Meg was finally willing to eat something and requested chicken strips. No problem. We can get chicken strips anywhere. We grabbed the camera and sprinted to the car to make the trip – 12 miles or so – over to their house, after driving by somewhere to pick up the grub.
There were only three cars in front of us at the first drive-thru. But when we got to the window, they politely informed us that they didn’t have chicken strips on the menu. I apologized for the trouble, and told them I’d have to keep driving.
The next place, I was sure, had chicken strips, because I practically lived off of them from that franchise in Little Rock a few years ago. But, whattaya think? Everybody’s gone to Buffalo strips and such, and abandoned the original item. We had to wait for 5 cars in front of us to get that information, after which I excused us and, again, went down the road, in a now desperate search to appease the li’l mama.
We drove another two miles, looking, before finally deciding to turn around and go back to the first place we passed on the way into Bentonville. Viola! Thanks, Zaxby’s.
Now, we’d killed about 35 or 40 minutes. We imagined that the girls, by now, had boyfriends and pierced places and cars of their own, and had hopefully at least been taught to feign an interest in saying hello and goodbye to their grandparents. We missed it! Goofing around, looking for chicken strips! They had grown up and become professional golfers and pop-music stars and business moguls and presidents. We should have pitched a tent in that field about 3 blocks from their house so we could get there faster. We should have had a cooler full of chicken strips and a hotplate in the trunk.
Surprisingly, when we finally got to the house, they were still there, and still just little tadpoles. And mama ate. And we sat holding them, staring, as if we’d never seen babies before. We’ll do it again, as soon as the phone rings.
Sure, their parents have big plans for them. But Grumpa Buck has some of his own. To borrow a theme from Jimmy Buffett: I’m gonna teach ‘em how to cuss; teach ‘em how to fuss; and pull the cork out of a bottle of wine.
Welcome to the world, Maci & Kennedy!
(c) 2010 Rick Baber