I flop down onto our old couch, letting out a loud "oof!" when I feel the cushions give a bit beneath my weight. I shift myself up and sigh, patting the faded, worn material fondly.
"Really, dude? You're nostalgic over a couch?" Joey asks, settling down next to me, but I just shrug.
"A little. Monica bought this couch just after her grandmother moved out of the apartment. It's been with us our entire relationship. A lot's happened here." An extraordinary amount of sex, for one thing, though I don't say it out loud. "Think about how often the group of us hung out on this couch, not to mention all the nights one of us would fall asleep on it and Monica would tuck us in, only to be ready with breakfast the next morning."
"Yeah, I guess," he answers, draping his arm over the back of the couch. "But it's not like you're getting rid of it. It's going to be in the basement."
"True. It's not the same, though." Not long after Monica and I decided that the basement would need to be some sort of play area for the kids, we both reluctantly agreed that it was probably time for new furniture. The stuff we have has served us well, but after almost three years of being abused by our twins, first by their constant unexpected bodily functions, then by their inexplicable need to just tear up everything in sight, and their brother's need to add to the chaos, it's not the sort of place either of us want actually company to sit. So now, a beautiful new, though thoroughly Scotch Guarded, sofa and loveseat sit proudly in our living room, and the battered old sofa has been relegated to the kids' stuff.
In fact, quite a bit of shifting has been done today, which is part of the reason why Monica decided to make herself scarce. She likes the changes we're making, and more importantly she understands that they need to be made, but…change has never been her strong suit. She knew that being in the middle of all this would bring out a few unattractive colors in her, so when set up this day, we agreed to make it into a "guy day." It works, though, because while it's sad to go through the kids' toys and find the ones that they're too big for or the ones they've played with until almost unrecognizable, I can manage to part with them. Monica would be a mess, and probably an angry one at that for letting herself getting that worked up over silly stuff in front of everyone else.
Instead, she arranged for a day out with Rachel, Phoebe, and all of our daughters, leaving me to do the grunt work with Ross, Mike, Joey, Ben, and the rest of the tiny people. It's a good excuse to get most of us together, though, and really, dragging bins of kid's toys down to the basement and building a few shelves and storage units isn't the worst way to pass a Saturday. Joey was able to keep Jack, William, and Andrew occupied while the rest of us went back and forth, and we've basically been playing pass-the-baby with the boys since, even managing to feed them lunch not too long ago.
"A lot of memories in this stuff," Ross agrees as he drops into the cuddle chair, also demoted to the basement, pulling his youngest son onto his lap.
"Well, now the kids can stomp all over our memories with ease," I assure him, gulping down half my bottle of water.
"Isn't it kind of bold to buy brand new couches when you have three kids who are still all under age three?" Mike asks as he sits on the floor, Ben following closely behind. Lately, with Ben's own interests expanding, he's found a sort of idol in Mike, fascinated by his piano-playing abilities. Mike seems to take it all in stride, though he feels a bit like a rock star with the attention he's being paid.
"Bold and stupid," I agree with a shrug, watching my boys as they dig through one of the new buckets filled with their toys. "Regardless, we needed new furniture. Mon's always been pretty amazing at both cleaning and preventing stains, and as long as we can keep the kids off the new stuff for the most part, we're not too worried about it. We know they're going to do some damage. Hopefully, having a room that's mostly theirs will cut back on some of it."
"Monica's not worried about her kids destroying the furniture?" Ross asks incredulously, absently picking up the plastic key ring Andrew flings to the floor every few seconds. "My sister Monica?"
"She's not that uptight about messes anymore, Ross. Three babies sort of cure you of that. We're more about damage control these days." Jack looks up and smiles at me, his eyes lighting up as he remembers that I'm in the room, and my heart melts a little. It never gets old being one of your kids' favorite people.
"Hi, Daddy," he says, grabbing a toy as he trots over to me. "Look! It's a choo-choo train."
I poke his little belly affectionately. "That's not a choo-choo train, dude. That's a truck."
He looks at his toy for a moment. "Oh."
"Can you go find Daddy a choo-choo?"
"Nnnnnno!" he exclaims as he leans against my knees, smiling happily.
"Are you sure?" I ask, well aware that he's saying "no" more because he likes it than anything else.
"Nnnnnno!"
"Can you say anything other than 'no'?" I ask, and he looks like he actually thinks about it for a few moments.
"Nnnnnno!"
"You'll go far in business, man," I assure him, wrapping my arms around his tiny frame and planting a kiss on top of his head.
"Yes," he agrees, and the others around me chuckle.
"Go put your truck back and find a choo-choo," I tell him as he wriggles free.
"Okay Daddy!"
"Chandler Bing as the world's most natural father," Ross teases, bopping Andrew in his lap. "Who ever would have suspected?"
I open my mouth to respond when Jack pops up again, his hands spread open. "I can't find it."
"You can't find it? You were only gone for a few seconds. Did you even try?"
"Mmmmmmm," he answers, contemplating. "Nnnnnno!"
"That's what I thought." I spread my palm out, grabbing his face gently. "You're a silly little boy, Jackaroo."
He giggles loudly, his eyes crinkled with happiness as I release him. "Do it again, Daddy!"
"Do what?" I ask, sliding off the couch to get closer to him. "You mean this?" I grab his face again, squeezing his cheeks carefully.
He screeches with joy. "Daddy stop!" I let go of him and he reaches for my hand. "Do it again."
I put my hand over his face again, unable to help laughing with him. "Raaaawr!"
Jack drops to his knees, nearly falling over with laughter. "Do it again!"
"Me, Daddy."
I look down to see that William's managed to slink over. "What do you want, you little goober?"
He pats at my hand, grabbing my fingers clumsily. "Me, Daddy."
I grab both of their faces and shake, gently moving them back and forth. "Ahhh raaaaah!" Their peals of laughter nearly drown out the sound effects I'm adding to their strange game.
"What're you doing to your kids?" Joey finally asks when I release them, both of them already reaching for me again.
"Remember the face-hugger things from Alien?" I ask, wiggling my fingers at the boys again, both of them shrieking as they take a few steps back, playing hard to get.
"Your kids know what that is?" Ross asks dubiously, pulling his baby against his chest a little tighter. "Ben hasn't even seen that one."
"Of course they don't know what it is," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "They just like this part. Don't you, you little gremlins?" I grab their faces again, making them laugh once more.
Jack breaks away and pants for a moment, his little teeth gleaming as he grins. His tiny fingers reach out to me, making little pinching motions. "Tickle tickle!"
"Oh, really, buddy?" I ask, waiting for him to make contact.
"Tickle tickle," he repeats, but veers off to his brother, who squirms away, looking vaguely horrified.
"Dack no!"
"'Dack'?" Mike repeats, taking a sip of his nearly empty beer.
Carefully, I maneuver my oldest child away from my youngest, hoping it looks accidental to Jack. "William can either say 'Jah' or 'Dack.' He hasn't been able to master the correct combination of those two."
"What does he call his sister?" he asks as William crawls in between him and Ben, hiding from his brother.
I tickle Jack's sides, making him collapse with laughter again. "He calls her 'Eri,' just like the rest of us."
William tilts his head to look up at Mike, his blue eyes wide. "Eri here?"
"Not right now, little man," Mike answers, smoothing down the baby's fine, sandy brown hair. "She's with your mommy."
"Where Mama?"
"They're doing girly things," Ben explains, making a face at William, but William just looks crestfallen.
"Oh," he says, and even though I'm almost completely positive it wasn't in context, it's still heartbreaking to hear. The little guy must be exhausted. Not unlike his mother, he's not big on change, and even though it's fun to play with his toys, seeing familiar things in unfamiliar places has to be tough on him. "Up?" he asks his cousin, and Ben pulls him into his arms, letting the baby rest his head on his shoulder.
"He'll be out soon," I reassure Ben, who doesn't look concerned with his plight. "The dude can fall asleep anywhere."
Joey watches Jack in fascination, scooting down onto the floor next to me. Jack extends his hands toward his uncle, his grin growing even wider. "Tickle tickle!"
"Meanwhile, this one looks like he could go all night," he says, reaching out to tickle my son's belly. "Tickle tickle!"
Jack shrieks with laughter, collapsing to the floor. "Stop!" he laughs, crawling toward Joey when he actually stops. "Do it again."
"Actually, when he gets this hyped up, it usually means a meltdown isn't far behind." Still, I can't help but chuckle in amusement as I watch the two of them play, Jack constantly demanding more tickles even as he tells Joey to stop. I look up to check on Ben; William has his faced turned toward me, his eyes blinking sleepily. We try to keep them all on the same nap schedule and to put them down in their beds, but sometimes William's batteries run down before the twins. He doesn't usually seem disoriented if he falls asleep in someone's arms and wakes up in his bed. It's actually waking up somewhere else that tends to throw him. "Are you tired, Willsy?" I ask him during a lull in Jack's laughter, and he offers me a tiny little smile.
"Uh-huh." His hand comes up to rub his face as he yawns. "Daddy?"
"Yes, munchkin?"
"Daddy up."
Before I can make a move, Ben stands and brings him over to me. I always forget that he's a bunch older than his brother and sister, and actually has a lot of experience with holding kids. "Thanks, man," I tell him, pulling the baby into my arms, stroking his little head gently.
"Stop," Jack giggles again, rolling on the floor under Joey's fingers.
"But every time I stop you want me to start again," he answers, wiggling my son back and forth on the carpet.
"Joey," he laughs, squirming away from him.
"Yeah, buddy?"
He sits on his haunches, panting. "You're silly."
Everyone bursts out laughing, and Jack takes that as his opportunity to laugh louder than all of us.
"Jack," I warn, and he looks at me sideways.
"I'm silly?" Joey asks, leaning toward my son. "You're the one who likes to be tickled."
Jack rolls away, running to hide behind Mike, only to pop up a few moments later. "I found you!" he exclaims before ducking again.
"Well, this is an easy game," Mike says, peeking over his shoulder to see my son.
"Don't find me, Unca Mike," Jack tells him.
"Sorry, my bad," Mike answers, and I just roll my eyes at my son's antics. He's really wound up today. Even though he's usually pretty laid back, all of the commotion of the day has undoubtedly taken its toll. He's also never really had a day like this one before. Our goal is to do things with the kids individually—both as two parents with one kid, and one-on-one. They have so many different pieces of their personalities that pop out when they're not around their siblings, and it feels like Monica and I are just scratching the surface of who they are. Today is actually the first day we've sort of gotten the opportunity, and I can only imagine how it's going with Erica. My little butt is extraordinarily headstrong and quite a bit manipulative, at least in the cute way. Mommy's also headstrong, but isn't nearly as easy a target for manipulation as Daddy.
"I found you!"
I look up in time to see Jack scooting next to the cuddle chair before he pokes his head out, grinning almost maniacally. "I found you!" Joey answers, and Jack screeches again.
"Tone it down," I tell him, and he ignores me while he tries to hide again. "Jack, did you hear me? You say, 'Yes, Daddy.'"
"Yes, Daddy," his muffled voice answers.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Smart ass kid.
"Wonder where he gets that from," Ross says, looking at me pointedly.
"He is an awful lot like you," Mike tells me, the rest of us managing to talk around Jack's never ending, though slightly quieter chorus of "I found you!"
"He is," I agree. "Somehow, he is. He's actually quite goofy, but it's usually in a quiet sort of way." Mike reaches behind his back, giving Jack's side a quick tickle, causing him to laugh loudly for just a moment. "Usually," I stress. "William's a lot like Monica, though. He likes organization, and a day like this has stressed him out beyond belief." I rub is back gently, but the rhythm of his breathing against my neck tells me that he's already snoozing.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
"What is it, buddy?" I ask my son, who has his head poking over Ben's shoulder.
He pauses for a moment, deciding. "Hi!"
"Hi," I answer, grinning at him in response before he goes back to trying to hide behind people. "Erica…Erica is Erica. She's more stubborn than her mother, but she's funnier than I've ever been. She's a ham and a diva and…" I trail off, feeling myself get a little oddly emotional, at trying to describe my daughter.
Mike smiles in understanding. "There's nothing quite like your little girl, is there? I can never figure out Amelia. One day she's quiet and it feels like she's actually reading your soul—and of course, Phoebe insists our daughter has a very old soul of her own—then the next day, she's this silly little kid, blowing raspberries and hopping up and down. Then I put her on my lap at the piano, and I swear to you that she's starting to understand some of the notes. Not that she's a prodigy, mind you, but just that she sees me play them so often that she's starting to remember them."
"Our kids are pretty cool," I agree, tugging William's little shirt down over his back. Mike still doesn't always have much to say—I would assume trying to infiltrate a group such as ours is intimidating and daunting. Instead, he tends to observe a lot, which is probably where Amelia gets it from. But once he starts talking about his wife and daughter, he could go on forever.
I understand that feeling completely.
"Hey, what did we talk about before we had kids?" Ross asks, adjusting Andrew into the crook of his arm.
"Nothing we could talk about in front of kids," Joey answers immediately, though I know he's teasing. At the moment, he has no interest in having kids of his own, but he's never bothered by all the time spent with our kids, and every last one of our kids adores their uncle Joey.
"Daddy. Daddy. Daddy! DADDY!" Jack screeches at me. William jerks against my chest, and I feel his breath hitch just a moment before he starts wailing.
"Okay; you're done," I tell Jack, whose eyes grow wide. "Come on. It's time for a nap."
His face crumples, growing red as big crocodile tears fill his eyes. "NO!"
"You're not being punished. You're just tired," I tell him, holding out my free arm to him, trying to jostle William back to sleep with the other. I look up at Ross as Andrew starts to wail, but Ross just shrugs—the hazard of having a bunch of kids in one room.
Jack walks over to me even as he cries. "No….nap!"
"It's all right," I reassure him, pulling him close. "You're okay. We knew you were going to have a big meltdown, didn't we?"
"Uh-huh," he wails, gasping for air, and I can tell his tears have moved from fake to very real. "Want Mommy."
"I know you do," I answer, stroking his back gently. "I know he's tired when he stops using full sentences," I explain to the other guys, who just wince at me sympathetically. "Let's get you upstairs, okay?" I drop my arm from around his shoulders to pull myself up and he becomes frantic, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," he gasps, reaching up for me.
"I know," I answer, stooping down for him. "I know."
He collapses into a heap before I can grab him, his volume subsiding even though his tears don't. "Want...my…Eri."
My heart honestly breaks for him; he almost never gets this bad. "Come here, Jackaroo." He heaves out a few more sobs before dragging himself to his knees, holding his arms out for me again. William snuffles against my neck, but his tears are mostly dry, the shock of his brother's outburst wearing off. "Today was too much, wasn't it?" I ask as I scoop him up.
"Uh-huh," he answers, his little fist gripping my shirt as he buries his face in my neck, and I feel helpless to ease his distress. It's hell watching my kid go from happiest person in the world to the most miserable in half a second. I've gotten better at learning the signs, and he almost never goes right to a tantrum, instead settling for whining and moping when he's sleepy and we haven't put him down yet. Usually, he just rubs his face a few times, scratches his belly, and that's that. But between moving so many of his toys out of his room, having a bunch of extra people in his house, and his twin and his mommy being missing, I should have seen this coming.
"Poor little guy," Mike says, smiling at me in sympathy.
"Yeah, it's a rough day," I agree. "Could someone get the baby gate for me?"
"I've got it," Joey answers, hurrying to his feet. He grabs at the gate and pulls to no effect. He gives the bar a tug; nothing budges.
"Use the handle, Joe," I tell him, readjusting my grip on the boys.
"Want Eri," Jack whimpers, turning his face to lean his head on my shoulder.
"I know you do," I answer.
"The handle," Joey says. "Right. The handle."
"On top of the gate, man."
He gives me an indignant look. "I know!" He grabs at the handle and pulls, and the gate still doesn't move. He makes a couple of frustrated noises as he yanks, causing Jack to giggle a little through his tears.
"You're silly, Joe," he tells his uncle, earning him a smile in return.
"Yeah, but I'm not trying to be."
"Here, Uncle Joey. I've got it," Ben says as he comes over to us, giving the top of the gate a pull. It swings open a moment later, much to the muffled amusement of the rest of the room. Joey makes a face at Ben, but I take the moment to slide past them, carefully walking my two sons up to the main level of the house.
"I want my mommy," Jack says softly as I make my way through the house to the main staircase.
"Tell you what, buddy," I answer as I trudge up the next flight of stairs, nudging the gate at the top of the second floor shut behind me. "When you wake up from your nap, Mommy will be home. Sound good?"
"Okay," he answers softly, his body relaxing as his own little bed comes into view. I plunk him down carefully, but his eyes grow wet again as I hold onto William. "Daddy…"
"Hang on," I reassure him. I pull William's diaper away from his butt, relieved to see that he's dry before I put him down in his crib, covering him with a little blankie. I give his mobile a couple of cranks and it starts to play softly, turning in a gentle circle. He blinks at me a few times before his eyes shut completely, his chest moving steadily. I lean over and give his head a kiss before turning back to my oldest, who looks so small and helpless as he waits for me. "All right, little dude. Your turn." I check his training pants, making him whine and wiggle for a moment before I tuck him under his blanket. I grab one of his favorite stuff animals, tucking it in next to him. His arm immediately wraps around it and he sighs, turning onto his side.
Close. He usually sleeps on his stomach; if he stays on his back, I know it's going to be rough, but if he turns onto his side, he's usually not far off from dreamland. I sit on the bed next to him and rub his back softly as he sniffles, his tears gone as he starts to get comfortable. I glance around the room as I wait for my next cue from Jack. It looks much better in here, though I sure didn't realize just how much stuff we'd crammed in here until it came time to move it all. Kids accumulate a hell of a lot of toys. We decided not to move everything downstairs—even Monica thought that might be too much for them right away. We left some of the gentler, quieter toys for them, but nothing that looked too terribly tempting for my little midnight marauder twins. Still, it'll take some time for the three of them to adjust to it, but I think they'll like having big area for them to play in.
"Story, Daddy," Jack says softly. "Please."
"You got it." I pause for a moment, mentally picking through the dozens of stories I've memorized in the last few years before I come up with an idea. I laugh a little at my own silliness, but it won't bother my son. "Once upon a time, there was a boy with the worst haircut in the world. He was very silly and he hated turkey. One day, he met a beautiful girl with big blue eyes and the biggest, brightest smile anyone had seen. Remember, the boy was very silly, so he decided to be mean to the beautiful girl, making her the saddest girl in the land."
I hear a little snore and turn my head. Jack's already shifted onto his stomach, fast asleep. I rub his back a few more times, waiting to make sure he's out for good. "I didn't even get to the good part," I tell him with a smile. His little foot twitches, kicking me gently, and I sigh, happy that my kids are good for the moment. "Next time," I whisper. "Next time."