Viva La Revolucion

Revolution can be tricky. Figure skaters and soccer analysts often use the term, but invariably mean something to do with the completion of a three-hundred-and-sixty degree rotation. My mom used to reference the song by The Beatles. But on the lips of a dyed hair teenager or a goateed social outsider, revolution often means something a bit more sinister. Their revolution is meant to be an abrupt and often violent upheaval in the current acceptable standards. This type of revolution scares parents, including me. People cry "Revolution" for differing reasons of importance too. The Revolutionary War toppled the corrupt British government. The Industrial Revolution ushered in a new era of production. In my dreams, the forthcoming Noise Reduction Revolution will stop radio stations from playing terrible Nickleback songs every fifteen minutes. Micah and Mal have recently embraced their anti-establishment tendencies and cried "Revolution" as well. There has been great and dramatic upheaval in the home lately, and the innocent faced babies have been front and center for the changes while Rachel and I hold on for our lives.

Micah has learned to rebel against foods that don't fit his current whim. This can be tricky for us, since Micah changes his mind as to what he wants in mere seconds. One minute he loves toast. The next he will clinch his mouth shut, smack his hands over his lips, and clamp down, refusing to eat any more toast as he violently shakes his head and whines. As soon as the toast is lowered from his face, Micah will return to his normally jubilant self: laughing, dancing and smiling until another piece of toast is offered. Micah's antics aren't limited to crusty bread; he has alternately rebuked fruit, cheese, meats, cereal and drinks. Basically, we have no idea what he wants until he actually eats something, then we shove as much as possible towards him until he changes his mind. After being turned away, we begin our search again.

Typical of her dainty existence, Mal's a bit more passive in her revolt. Nevertheless, the times they are a changing for her as well. If she wakes up in the early morning, she now requires a snuggle to get back to sleep. Additionally, she and her brother have begun taking one serving of formula from a sippie-cup instead of a bottle every afternoon. Mal has done very well with the cups, drinking the entire thing two out of the three days we have offered cups in lieu of bottles. She is even staying up later (past seven p.m.) about four days a week.

The revolutionary ripples will continue throughout the next month, as the twins enter their eleventh month. Their daily bottles will gradually shift from warm formula to cold whole milk. Those bottles will disappear and be replaced exclusively with sippie cups. The first word is coming any day now, and both babies are beginning to let go of their holds on tables and legs, getting ready to walk at a moments notice. These changes may seem too fast and too drastic for us now, but as The Fab Four once melodically mused, "You say you want a revolution? Well, you know, we all want to change the world." I no longer want to change the world, though. The only thing I hope to do as I witness this time in our lives is to hold on for my life, ride out Micah and Mal's revolution, and then hope that someone embraces the Anti-Nickleback movement soon, because I can't take it much longer.