All by ourselves

Kate called me at 4 p.m. today through tears.
"Your Mom just left," she said, and then the phone line went silent and all I heard huffs and sniffs.
Mom was our lifeline for a month, giving us what I liked to call Twins protection.
If Jayden was begging to go outside in that wonderful, paitent way toddlers are known for, Mom could take a baby or take him out back, and all was well.
If Andie was crying and Allie was throwing her usual "I want to be held" snit in that wonderful, paitent way infants are known for, Mom could take Andie or Allie and all was well.
If it was 7 p.m., Kate could go to bed, and I could battle the twins with Mom and two bottles. If it was 5:45 a.m., I could sleep in, and Kate could battle the twins with Mom and two bottles.
And all was well.
Now she's gone.
And we're alone together.
This comes at a time when the newborn stage is wearing me down like an old man's dentures. If they weren't smiling now just a little at a time - which is crack to a parent of a newborn, as it's sometimes the only thing that keeps you going - I think I would be going beserk.
Last night, I got home at 5:45 p.m. and found out Jayden hadn't been fed yet and was hungry. Mom and Kate were both feeding babies. This is one hard thing about my household right now is not only does Kate need me to hit home running and ready to corral chaos, she demands it, like I have no right to want to relax for 10 minutes because I got to spend the whole day at work. And honestly? I don't blame her.
So after all that, I ate takeout Chinese, fed Jayden, got him into the tub, got him into bed at 7:30 p.m. and I need to put together another tournament wrap-up for Pokerworks. Time to get a little work done, right?
Nah.
Andie cries, and then Allie cries, and then Jayden cries, and then Andie cries. Kate's upstairs taking her well-deserved bath and getting ready for some well-deserved sleep. Andie calms down when Mom takes her outside.
I start to write again.
And then:
• Allie cries from her carrier.
• I put the pacifier back in her mouth for the 83rd time that night.
• It falls out. She cries again.
• I pick her up and take her back with me. I lay her on my lap all snuggled up in the corner of the couch. She's in her blanket. She's smiling. She's happy.
• Five minutes later, Allie's not happy.
• I switch position after position. Allie's not happy.
• Kate takes her for a few minutes and I try to write. I write some.
• Kate gets the bottles together and goes to bed.
• Mom feeds Andie and mumbles something about a bath and bed. I pray Andie stays down.
• Allie cries again.
• I pick her up, walk her around and wrap her like a Tootsie Roll.
• 45 minutes later, she goes to sleep.
• I finish the story.
• It's 11 p.m.
A little poker — there's no way I can go to bed after that — and I crash.
• Babies are up at 2:45 a.m.
I get Allie again. I look down and notice a chunkier face and a bit happier disposition.
The newborn stage doesn't last forever. It's replaced by cherub and smiles and maybe even a little cooing.
Then why does the bridge to that stage seem miles away?

Pictures are worth more

Highlights of the lasr few days:

Wordless Wednesday

Jayden enjoying a hot fudge sundae we got him for his 2nd birthday. He ate every scrap.







Allie, two years away from enjoying her first birthday sundae and settling for milk.




P.S. We're off to Salina, Kan. and a house without Internet, let alone broadband, so this place may be limited with updates, if not downright barren, until Sunday night, when I'll post some pictures from my first climb of the year.

Pacify me

The crying, the endless feedings and diapers, Jayden's screaming (which now earns him a shot of soap water in the mouth), general fussiness from the girls and the 3 a.m. "wakeful" periods all are smooth as silk.
Only one thing has driven me close to believing that worms are crawling out of my eyes.
The pacifier.
Jayden turns 2 today, and he's hopelessly addicted to the pacy. Our doctor has told us it's time to break the addiction as soon as we can, after we all adjust to the twins' arrival (probably when they are 4 in other words). Jayden's still not talking much, though he knows a lot of words, and I'm pretty sure Jayden gets sick more than he needs to thanks to that wretched thing in his mouth all the time.
The girls already need their pacifiers, too, and the green hospital beauties we've brought home with them (free pacy with every baby, act now as this offer won't always be available) are apparently made of Super Ball. When the twins "drop" their pacifiers from their mouths, as they do about 379 times a day, the pacys bounce and roll, usually the couch, under the computer desk as I'm trying to play poker or down the hallway and into the darkest, most covert corner of the house.
I am constantly searching for either one of the twin's pacifiers or Jayden's, usually when Jayden is growing increasingly frantic that his herion dump is being taken away from it and his whine is approaching 747 jet airliner volume.
But that's OK. Let's be honest. The pacifiers are as much for the parents as they are the kids. It's the only thing that quiets down Jayden when he's whiny, and blissful, blissful peace, right now anyway, is more important than addiction.
The same pacifiers also work on the twins, especially when they're convinced that a little more milk won't hurt them, even after they've puked all over me and have burped four times and it's 3 a.m. and all I want to do is go to sleep please God sleep sleep sleep Andie go to bed right now!
Sorry.
We all have our pacifiers, and I've noticed that my pacifier in my poker game continues to be my tight-nut-peddling ways. that culiminated Friday with me folding J,10 on a 10,10,Q,3 board to an aggro maniac when he only bet the pot. Sad, sad, sad. A string of coolers had left me weak/tight and scared to get my money in with anything but the nuts, but after he flashed me 10,4, I realized I gave up a great opportunity to win a lot of money, and that's just as much of a mistake as calling off your chips.
(Poker note: I have seen more money lost from everyone I've played with when they trip up then any other scenario, even with overpairs to the board. So the fold isn't terrible, but I made the cardinal sin of ignoring my opponent's tendencies. If it was a tight player the fold wouldn't be too bad. Why do most push with trips when it's essentially a pair with an extra card. Kickers still play, people, and you're also doomed if someone has a set. I tend to play these with medium pots unless I know my opponent or have a great kicker).
So Saturday I raised and raised and raised some more, and I once even shoved with a set on an all-flush board. Normally I don't play big pots on all-flush boards with a flush myself, but the guy bet the pot and I was convinced he had something like A,K for TPTK and a flush draw. When the J paired the board I knew I was good and sure enough, he showed A,K with the A of spades.
This is not a breakthrough. I've gotten more aggressive these last few months. It's merely a notch, and notches are how we make more money and eventually move up in levels.
I've spit out that pacifier for now.
It's time for Jayden to lose his.

P.S. Pimping is in order here.

I've enjoyed the coverage at this site quite a bit (congrats Pauly on your cash).

But seeing as how I've contributed to the coverage on this site, and it also features the work of a couple good blogging buddies, I'm favoring this one right now.

So here's the pimp!

Thoughts for Thursday

• "When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come baby, cradle and all"

Who the hell invented this nursery rhyme and why is a song about a baby crashing to earth (along with the crib) supposed to soothe my kids? Should I read a "Friday the 13th Part 8" picture book before they hit the hay too?

"Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after"

Great, a fable about a hiking trip gone very wrong. You people are just sick.

• • •

Haiku tribute to my girls:

What? Easy-Peasy?
Daddy, how could you say that?
No more sleep for you.

• • • 

"So you have twins."
"Yep."
"Cool. Two for the price of one."

Huh? Of all the stupid twins comments I've heard so far - and granted I'm new to this game, and no one has mentioned my fertility rate yet - this is the dumbest.
This comment almost implies it's EASIER to raise a pair of infants rather than one. How they came to think this I have no idea. It's much harder. Even the pregnancy was much more difficult.
My twins readers know this. Try calming one baby down only to have the other one start up (two nights ago) over and over and over and let's see if you change your mind. I'll bet my bankroll you do. Plus the juggling is just unreal. You can't trade off feeding shifts, there isn't one to "play fetch," so when you both have a baby on your lap, one simply just has to get up and get the wipes, etc.

My answer to this now is "Two for the price of four."
• • •

If the twins are in fact identical, why is it that one is wide awake from 2:30 a.m. to 4 a.m. and then the other is awake from 9 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. and then 4:30 a.m. to 6 a.m.?
Identical means the same exact genetic material, right?
So is this nature versus nuture?
Environmental factors are playing a part?
What, then, am I presenting in our home environment that makes it seem OK to be awake at that time?
• • •

Actually, the last two nights have been good ones - they only got up once after I went to bed at midnight - so I can't bitch too much. BUT both babies were really fussing from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m., which explains my absense from the Mookie last night (I really miss that tournament). When Mom leaves things are going to be rough. She had one and I had one.
We're pretty sure the girls have acid reflux too, but this time we've jumped right on it. They are sleeping in their car seats (hint, new parents, the crib is not God), and we've started them on some medication. I don't like pumping our new babies full of meds, but if it makes them less miserable, then we're less miserable, and that's the goal.

• • •
Poker continues to be up and down. I'm basically like $30 ahead in the last two months despite the hours and hours and hours I've played at $25 NL. Pretty pathetic if you ask me. Yes there's been the nice spate of suckouts and coolers, far too many to mention here, but I'm also making bad calls as well and paying some of those suckouts off. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong either.
Honestly there are times I feel like just stopping. Last night I had a great night, and I finished down thanks to a massive cooler when a guy had a Q-high flush over my J-high flush, and yes there were only three to the board. If you can fold that, you're a better player than me, and you always will be. Things like this are indeed my fault, and yet they've happened so much, it's why I'm even for the last two months.
I know it could be worse. From what I've read from other bloggers, a lot worse, actually. Whining over.
• • • 

We're gearing to head to Salina, Kan., next Wednesday. That's where I used to work. It's also where Kate's grandmother lives. I don't know if I'd call four days with in-laws in one of the most boring and humid places on Earth with two newborn twins and a toddler fun. It might be boring, though - probably will be, in fact - and right now boring sounds pretty good.
Plus I can get a good peanut butter shake at the local burger joint. This place has like 453 shake flavors. What's your ideal shake flavor? Peanut butter for me. Oh and there's a place that also serves a monster-killer chicken dinner. That rocks.
Maybe that's why Kansas is filled with fat people. The highlights of their days involve food.

Serenity in Small Doses

Yesterday was the kind of day that would have seemed busy five years ago.
I stained the wooden swingset out back, mowed the lawn, ran six miles, worked on an iMovie for a couple hours, watched "Children of Men," did a couple of Pokerworks articles and played some poker.
Bliss.
Saturday Kate took our litter (sorry if that offends twin parents, but I think a toddler and two twin girls equals a litter) down to her parents an hour away for Father's Day. You might think I'm getting hosed on Father's Day, but in fact, an empty house for a couple of days - I couldn't go because I work Sundays - is probably the best present I could get from her. That and a pretty cool "dri-fit" running shirt.
The girls, as I've said, have been easy, but they're still newborns, and there's two of them, and it took one bad afternoon to cause an earthquake-sized rift between us last week.
The worst time of the day for Kate is in the late afternoon, when Jayden needs to be fed and bathed, the twins need to be fed and Kate has to get dinner for herself. It's also the time when the twins start to get a little fussy. One or the other inevitably wants to be held around that time, and at times even the magic swing can't appease her or her.
On Wednesday nights I run intervals with a track group full of friends, and on Thursdays, I have a softball game. Both of these activities take an hour.
When I came home Wednesday from track, my mother watched, tight-lipped, as Kate informed me that I had to give up everything.
After a couple days of wrangling with each other, including probably the first time we've gone to bed pissed off at each other, we've worked out what I think will be some solutions to the age-old argument. Those include bringing Jayden to track with me, finding different hours to work out and, most importantly, getting Kate out of the house as well.
There are many things I value in life, but most of all, other than my kids, Kate and my health, I value serenity
I am an introvert. Oh, don't act so surprised. Most poker players are probably introverts, like most runners and most mountain climbers. That means we get our energy from being alone. Alone time, as you might guess, is pretty hard to come by these days.
Sometimes "alone time" means trying to pitch a softball across a plate or smack it to the outfield fence. Sometimes it means trying to run faster than I should or reaching a summit or playing a pocket pair well.
Other times it means watching a thoughtful movie, reading a probing book or dinking around on one of the kids' movies on iMovie.
It always means time when the only person I have to answer to is me.
It's who I am. Many times I wish it were different. For years I've kept few friends, not made nearly enough business contacts and, in the past, hurt even relationships I trust because of this. And now that I've got three little ones, I've wondered why not even time with them gives me the same energy as being alone does. Maybe it's because I'm constantly trying to prevent Jayden from killing himself (look, Daddy, I can take four stairs at once), but I've felt incredibly guilty over the time I haven't spent with him and now the twins more than proud over the time I have, even when I've made what I think is a good effort to spend hours with them every day and especially on weekends.
This is exactly why for years I hesitated and even dreaded having children. I knew they would be a challenge. There's nothing easy about getting up four times a night, being exposed to gag-inducing diapers and telling a toddler 786 times that day not to do something only to see him do it for the 787th.
My challenge, I knew, would be to ration the energy I needed from my free time and be OK with the fact that it would be many years before I got as much as I needed.
Maybe that's what this weekend was for.
Because, Sunday morning, I woke up later than 8 a.m., went for a bike ride and came home, and I was struck the quiet of the house.
It seemed pretty empty.
An hour later, I went down to grab the first iMovie I ever made, a 65-minute opus about Jayden's first year, complete with songs by the Barenaked Ladies sent to shots of him naked and running through the house, which would probably get me arrested if they weren't so damn funny.
A diaperless 1-year-old boy IS pretty funny, even if that occasionally leads to disaster.
I did it because I wanted to see where we would be in a few weeks and months.
I also did it because I missed my family.
Today I'm at work, and for the first time in weeks, my body does not feel like a truck ripped through it. My body is rested and my mind is clear.
And I can't wait to see them tommorow, when the chaos comes back into my life.
I'm thankful for times of serenity like this weekend.
I'm also thankful I get them in small doses.

Wordless Wednesday, with a touch of news

Do they look identical to you?

Because they are, apparently.

Our doc got the report back today and the woman who examined the placenta said it looks like they're identical. To me this is being a little bit pregnant, but I'm going with that despite the fact that they don't look exactly alike to me. Their haircuts are different, though, and that may be skewing my view.

At the very least, I'm really thrilled with the news. I don't know why I cared, but I was hoping the girls would be identical. I guess I've always thought identical twins were kind of cool, and not for the reasons you're probably thinking, and that if I was going to have twins (at one point, I'm sorry to say, I even thought "subjected" to twins), then they might as well be identical.


And, apparently, I'm not the only one who is excited at the news:

Whiny ass post, v. 7.3

I simply need to vent.
Blog, you're it.
The twins have decided that they were making things a little too easy for us, so they've swapped times they needed to be held throughout the day. Jayden also apparently had a Chernobyl-like meltdown for almost an hour, and though I wasn't there to witness it, I felt it when I got home, as the fallout from said meltdown turned our normally cheery household into a black hole sun.
I was mentally exhausted by 9 p.m., and after another hour-long battle getting both girls down (I'm awake, no, I"M awake, no, MY TURN NOW to be held by Daddy), I finally got a chance to sit down at poker.
I played well, if I do say so myself. I won a big pot with Q-Q, bluffed several times, had a couple draws come in and twice got all my money in when I was at least 5-1 to win.
And I lost both those pots.
And I finished down $30 for the night.
And I was PISSED.
I still am. In fact, just thinking about the two beats leaves a thin drool of anger creeping down my chin.
Again, I'm venting. The first time I had a set of 4s, turned my full house and gladly called the monkey who decided that was a good time to push his A-A (he could not have telegraphed his cards any more even by turning them face up).
Still, shit happens, right? I played well enough to crawl back into even or close to it, and then with five people in the pot, I called a raise with 7,7 and got a board of K,5,7 rainbow.
Beautiful.
By the time the betting is through, three others push their stacks in, and I need to call $22 to win a $84 pot.
Um, OK.
What do you think they all had? I put one, the initial bettor and a donkey who bet two times the pot on an underpair, one on A,K, and the third on an underset.
I was right on the initial bettor - he had 8,8. One other guy did indeed have A,K. The third I was wrong about. He had two pair. He was the only one who had me covered, of course.
I really don't mind the call with two pair. It's probably not a great call but he was getting nice odds on his money, and as I said before, those other two players really had a wide range. You could even make a case that the big bet with 8,8 wasn't terrible. At least he was betting. The call with A,K is simpy inexcusable. What on earth would make you think top pair was good there?
Well, for my good play, the poker Gods saw it fit to reward Mr. Two Pair and give him a runner, runner flush.
So. If my monster, huge favorites hold up, if the odds just play out, I'm easily up $75 for the night, or at least three buy-ins. That's a lot for me. I'm a conservative player. No way would I ever, ever ask for a suckout to get those numbers, as I know that will never happen. I've also reviewed the hand histories and poker tracker and I haven't sucked out for a big pot, or even a pot over $5, in two months. Unbelieveable, isn't it. I think the ratio over the last two months is 25-1.
Now, yes, this sucks anyway, but in the last two months, I've basically been treading water because of beats like this. Yes, I've made a few mistakes, but most of the beats have come just like this one, where I get my money in and get fucked over. I'll show you the hand histories.
When you have kids in the house, you can't throw something or even yell, so I'm hoping this will work out some of the anger. I haven't been this angry in a while, and I really don't know why. Maybe it's because my poker time is limited now, so it burns me when I lose money cause it's hard to win it back, or maybe it's just everything else and I'm really tired. Or maybe I'm really fucking tired of losing when I make the right play. That was a huge pot last night, and I won't get another chance to win a pot like that in months.
Honestly I'm so fucking discouraged right now I am thinking about putting poker off for a while. If the game is truly like that these days, where you have a great night, slowly build your bankroll the right way and then continue to have it chopped down like a tree because of some fucker catching his miracle card, forcing to you once again build it back up and then rinse and repeat, so be it. I don't need that in my life right now, not with demanding kids and climbing season approaching.
We'll see.
I've got a meeting with a group I'll be guiding this summer up three 14ers, and then I've got a date with the new James Bond.
And when he loses that huge hand I've heard about, I'll simply smile.
We've all been there, Mr. Bond, and misery loves company.


P.S. Stay tuned tommorow for some cute Wordless Wednesday pictures instead of a bitter, whiny poker post.

Pop culture Monday and MY exciting weekend

"The Sopranos," other than "The Simpsons," is probably my favorite show of all time.
And I'm not pissed off today.
Most fans of the show are, but not only have they forgotten what the show's about, they didn't really watch the show. I think they were too busy slobbering over whether Tony would get shot or go to jail or what what what and failed to see just how much this show actually did resolve.
I won't go into detail. It's not my job to be a spoiler, and in this age of DVRs I know it's possible some of you may not have seen it yet.
The Sopranos remains one of the more real shows on television ever, regardless of all the mob stuff, thanks to this ending.
Yes, the ending was a little strange. I remember cocking an eyebrow at it (as much as I can, I'm not very good at that), but I like the way Chase left it up to you to decide how you want the show to end. I actually loved that part of it actually.

Finally, here's the thing, folks. Final episodes are NEVER satisfying. There's too much expectation. Imagine planning to have sex with someone for six months. The tension would build and build until the day actually arrives. Sorry, but that session or two sessions or whatever won't ever measure up to your expectation for that day. No payoff can match that anticipation. Let's face it, with any successful series, the "last episode" hype and all the plot buildups over the years, the anticipation builds to the point where we're expecting strawberry lube and bubble baths and 50 mirrors and silk sheets and Barry White not only playing but singing in the damn room with you both and maybe even a friend joining in and toys and a video camera replaying everything in slow-mo and possibly even a hair metal ballad or two.
And the last episode of any well-loved series is just that, the final payoff.
It never measures up. "Cheers" failed, "X-Files" sucked, "Seinfeld" sucked and "St. Elsewhere" was just weird (the whole hospital was just a snow globe in some autistic kid's head?). The only episode that lived up to it was "M.A.S.H." and that was just too easy because the show was about a war, and when the war ends, the series ends and everyone says goodbye. Easy-peasy and not a fair comparison.

"The Sopranos" managed to end the series while avoiding all the cliches and yet also resolved many things and hinted at the future. The rest is up to you.
What's wrong with that?

• • • 
We saw "Pirates" 3 for Kate's birthday. Mom stayed home with the twins and also watched Jayden. Newborn twins and a toddler. Mom is now crowned champion babysitter of all time.
Maybe I'm biased because I actually got a see a movie in the theaters with my wife, an event that happens now about as often as I had a girlfriend in high school, but I didn't think it was as horrible as the critics say it was. It wasn't great. In fact it has plenty of holes. But it's a summer movie. Summer is the only time I lower my expectations for movies. Usually they are pretty sky high. So the movie met my lowered summer expectations. Barely, though.
• • •
So you all got to go to Vegas eh? I had an exciting weekend too. I grilled chicken on the barbecue with my brother, did three 3 a.m. feedings and changed about 20 diapers.
Jealous?
I thought so.

P.S. My second article
in a series I'm writing for Pokerworks is up. It's been great working for Linda and I hope it can continue.

A little bit of poker in my life

As you may have noticed, this is still a poker blog, but only in the technical sense.
I still write about poker, and I still play poker every night, and I still even consider myself a poker blogger.
But as you may also have noticed, when I'm writing these days, poker doesn't get near as many words as running or the twins or Jayden. There's a lot more there with a pair of newborn ladies and a toddler than writing about how I screwed up A,J in EP yet again and how I suffered yet another bad beat and poor me and I hate our government.
You have, after all, read all that before. Much more eloquently, in fact.

The last thing I do these days is offer poker advice. Let's face it. I'm a good player. I've never deposited past my initial foray of $200 in pokerroom.com (man, that was another world ago), and through a series of withdraws, I've funded Full Tilt, Poker Stars, Bodog and Ultimate Bet accounts from that initial $200. I'm one of the leaders on the Mookie board and won one this year.

But I'm hardly as good as many of you. My thinking rarely travels beyond third level. My highest level of cash games are $50 NL, and I'm currently enjoying three tables of UB at $25 NL. I still play low-level SnGs, and even those lately have sucked. I don't ever expect to win a MTT, and though I have a healthy bankroll, a win in the Full Tilt $26K would probably surpass it.

Yet here I go. If you think this tip is somewhat like trying to teach Miles Davis how to play the blues in B-flat, then by all means, have yourself a chuckle and skip over it. But it's a good tip, and it seems to play out again and again, without fail.

I have KK and $30 in front of me in a $25 NL game. I raise 3x, and I get one caller from a lady who has a $13 stack. She typically buys in short. This, as we'll see later, is important.
The flop is a decent one, Q,9,3, all rainbow. She has position on me, however, so I bet the pot, $2.
She smooth calls. At this point I'm not too worried. I suppose she could have J,10 or maybe a weak Q. She could also have a set but I can't worry about monsters just yet.
The turn is a harmless 2, and I bet $4.50 into the $6 pot. I wouldn't mind a call here but I don't want to give odds out either.
She pushes all in.
What's your move?

• • •

I don't mind it when other blogs make you wait for a day or so to get comments, but what I'm saying here isn't really all that amazing, and in many cases, it probably won't be much of a decision for many of you. So I'll continue here.
What do you think she had?
At that point I was fairly sure I knew what she had.
I put her on Q,J sooted, and that's what she flipped over when I called.
I was sure because of the tip that's coming, and it's a strange trend, in my mind, yet it plays out over and over and over, and I'd be willing to be it plays out at all but the highest levels.
When a player is on the short stack, they are far too willing to gamble with a marginal hand like top pair.

I know. "Wow, thanks Peaker. You're amazing. I'll bet you raise in EP with AA, too, don't you? You should write a book on poker stragety."

But here's the thing. This is a cash game, remember? It's not a tournament. And the "short stack" is relative. Let's say this was a tournament. With the blinds being .10/.25, her M is 37. That's hardly a time to be pushing with only a decent hand.

Yet what I've found, over and over, is if a stack has less than 60 percent of a buy-in, that person will gamble with anything, and usually that means top pair, weak kicker. Sometimes it even means a pair in their hand with overcards on the board, or it could also mean an overpair.

You should call these players more often than not if you have a good hand, but not a hand you would normally blow half your stack with, like just a pair with a great kicker or an overpair that can be beaten by higher overpairs. I doubt this is true at the higher levels, but at $25 NL up to $100 NL, this seems to be the case.

It really amazes me too. It seems like such a dumb play. Apparently there's a school of thought out there that OTHER players are going to be willing to gamble with much less, too, and I do think that's true. If she shoves with $40, totally covering me, I think twice before calling with KK, and unless I've got a good read on her (which I did in this case, she wasn't a good player), I fold.

Yet most of the time, what I've found is I wait for those players to make those mistakes and shove their stacks and I pick them off. I've made more money off these players than any other except for spiking sets or big hands with sooted connectors against a big overpair.

Reckless short stack cash game poker is rarely profitable, it seems to me. But if there are shortstack players who make money off this strategy, I'm willing to listen.

After all, as we've just seen, I'm no poker author.

There ain't no cure for the post-race blues

Sunday I ran five miles.
Every step was a struggle.
I could barely maintain a 9-minute-mile pace when just a week ago I was running at 8:35 without much effort.
So what’s the difference?
One is that not sleeping as well as I should - two tiny girls have something to say about that for now - may be catching up to me.
Two is I gave blood a few days ago, and that’s literally robbing your system of oxygen. At sea level that’s a slight problem. At 5,000 feet that hurts.
Mostly, though, I’m suffering from something else.
We runners call it the post-race blues, and I think it pertains to my life, not just my running.
The Bolder/Boulder is a tough race, and my body is still feeling the effects of running hard for 50 minutes.
This, though, goes beyond effort.
Training for an event is a tricky thing when your main goal is to be fit for life. You start to see the race, the mountain, whatever, in your bathroom mirror in the morning. Skipping a workout doesn’t happen because of The Goal. You eat well, sleep well (if you can) and take care of yourself. You are focused.
And then the day comes, and then it’s over.
It’s impossible not to have a letdown.
I have other goals for the summer. I have Race for the Cure, a 5K, on July 4. I have another 10K, the Human Race, on July 28. I have several mountains I’ll be guiding this summer. But those goals are distant, and the sense of urgency isn’t there right now.
And that brings me to the twins.
A birth, especially this birth, was much like a race. We didn’t know the exact day, but we worked for it, and when it got here, we worked and worked and worked and ran and charged up hills and got up at 3 a.m. and changed a mountain of diapers.
And then, well, now we continue to do it.
Parenting doesn’t have a finish line. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any letdowns.
The girls have been so good, I’m nervously waiting for the other, Exorcist-like side, to come out. I’m wondering if they’re good only because Mom is here, and when she leaves, will chaos, instead of being kept on the sidelines, will charge off the bench. I’m wondering if I’ll be getting up at 3 a.m. for months, not weeks.
I’ve gotten an invitation to play a home game this weekend. I hope I can make it but I’m thinking I can’t. I haven’t had a good poker game with my buddies in at least a month. I haven’t even seen a movie with them. I miss them. I am wondering how long it will take for Kate to start to view our increasingly clingy and active toddler as Dennis the Menace and not our lovable little guy.
The grind, already, is getting to me a bit.
My poker game has reflected the post-race blues a bit, seesawing back and forth $25 up and down, and yet I still believe I’m playing well. I’m playing, I believe, better than ever, dumping two pairs and sets with abandon when its so obvious my opponent has drawn out on me (and that has happened FAR TOO MUCH lately). Yes, it’s possible my opponents are merely making moves on me, but this being $25 NL, I doubt it. You just don’t see it at that level. Every other time someone else has looked them up, they’ve got their third club or that made straight.
There are days when life gets drenched in the post-race blues. One thing I have learned.
It’s best to attempt to put on your running shoes, put the feet forward, and start churning away toward the next high.
So here I go.

It's not my fault

You've probably already heard about the Cards at the World Series of Poker.

Those cards are Poker-P-E-E-K cards.

I am Poker-P-E-A-K-E-R.

P-E-E-K
P-E-A-K

See the difference?
Good.


In other news, I'm nearly as weary as you might think. The twins are still relatively easy-peasy and are basically sleeping through the night, albeit with some feedings and some 11 p.m. fussing, usually right when Daddy is planning to check-raise his set on a two-flush board.
They also seem to have a knack for shitting when we take the diaper OFF. Sweeties, you've got it backward. At least I think you do. Maybe you're doing it on purpose.
And Allie seems to have a knack for sensing my presense. She sleeps a lot but when I'm in charge of watching them, she pitches a fit and kinda makes it clear she wants to be held. So I hold her, and she looks up at me and whines occasionally until I talk to her.
Is this how it starts?
Ya know, I DO control your destiny right now, little ones. Perhaps you shouldn't toy with me.
Mom has been a Godsend here. I truly don't know how we're going to do it when she leaves in a few weeks.

Now that I'm strictly a cash game player - I haven't played an SnG in weeks, and I only make it out to the Mookie, where I finished a respectable 14th last week - I'm getting a little tired of the see-saw battle. I've been up to $700 on Ultimate Bet, where I'm mostly playing right now, and I've been down to $635 all last month. I would love to blame most of it on suckouts. And, yes, the suckouts have been horrific and plentiful (as an aside, I sure would like to suck out, but I have this darned knack to keep getting my money in ahead most of the time; how stupid of me). But I've also made the occasional stupid play that bumps me back a bit.
Last night I thought I played as well as I ever have and I finished $1 up. Sometimes it truly isn't about the results.

I'm also feeling weary after the 10K race and giving blood for the first time in a year (and, I suppose, not sleeping my full 8 every night). Time to get the energy back up. I need wings!

Twins power activate!

Wordless Wednesday. I'm not sure exactly how to do this. But here goes:

Digging deep into the well

I ran 49 minutes in the Bolder/Boulder 10K Memorial Day race, or about a minute slower than what I wanted.
But that's OK. No one runs their best race at the Bolder/Boulder.
And my well of strength and reserve that I usually pull on to get me through the hard parts wasn't there as much as I needed today.
There were two reasons for this. One is what everyone faces: The Bolder/Boulder is a damn hard course, with hills piled upon hills, and the last two miles, a flat, downhill paradise compared to the middle three miles, ends with a steep, oh-my-God, quarter-mile hill that drains any hope you may have of finishing super strong.
After a while, facing that many hills, the well simply runs dry, no matter how hard you've trained.
The second reason is actually two reasons.
Yeah.
Allie, or lil' Miss Priss, as I have come to call her, decided that she would rather be awake and held from 9:30 p.m. until, oh, 1 a.m. last night. Then Andie took over for the rest of the night.
Ah, the joy of twins.
Kate, God Bless her, tried to do as much as she could, and Mom, who is here for a month, mopped up the rest, but it was still almost impossible to sleep. I slept, maybe, three hours before my biggest race of the year.
I hoped it would not affect my performance, but alas, as I charged up yet another hill, my legs felt as if they were wading in maple syrup. The hills had something to do with that. Not sleeping, I'm sure, had a lot to do with it.
A 10K is not a marathon like the 2007 World Series of Poker Main Event. It is not a 5K, either, like a turbo SnG. It's a race where you have to run hard for an hour. You're not running quite as hard as you would in a 5K, so you're not close to puking. And you're not running the distance that you do in a marathon or a half marathon, so you don't really suffer from exhausation. But you do get tired. And you do breath hard the whole race. Damn hard at times, especially when you're climbing those hills.
It's the perfect combination of speed and strength, and if the strength isn't there, the speed suffers a bit.
I found myself not caring a bit, a bad sign, around mile 4, as I huffed and puffed up another climb. That's when I knew the sleep, or lack of it, to be more precise, would hurt me more than I wanted.
I was able to attack the downhills and remain steady/fast on the straightaways, but I wasn't able to charge up the hills as much as I wanted.
Yet I still had a good race. Running 49 minutes still means I ran around a 7:50-per-mile pace. At altitude and over a tough course, that's pretty good. That got me somewhere in the top 3,500 out of 48,000 people entered. And I had a great time. It was nice to decompress these last wild two weeks.
But I do wonder if these little girls, along with the continued demand of Jayden, will ever prevent me from becoming an elite runner.
Then again, in the last half-mile, knowing that the race's toughest hill awaited, I was nearly spent. I wondered where I would find the strength to finish.
And I looked down at my bib and saw Jayden's face and the mugs of the two little girls who became a part of my life last week.
Those girls cost me in today's race.
I suppose it's only fair, then, that near the end, looking at their faces gave me the strength I needed to bring it home.

This week in pokerpeaker, my column and the mandatory "aww how cute" shot

Highlights of the week:
* Listening to Allie load her shorts a third time while being burped after consuming the adult caloric equivalent of four Burger King Whoppers, three Chicken McWhoppers and a truckload of fries.
* Having AA cracked with all the money in prelop by 10,7 when he caught his second 7 on the river. I am SO tired of getting in with the best of it and getting punished for it this month. At least my QQ is a healthy pair.
* Working the 3 a.m. feedings and realizing I only have 90 to go (ideally).
* Staring with longing at "Borat" as it arrived by Netflix yesterday and realizing I have no idea when I'll get to it.
* Running well and actually feeling great four days before the Bolder/Boulder, a 10K with 40,000 and probably my biggest race of the year.
* Knowing that grandma, my mother, is on her way for a month of extra hands. Who-hoo!
* Buying the new Megadeth and Ozzy albums and approving of them.
* Knowing also that it doesn't matter what I write here, people are only here to see the cute-as-buttons photo.
It's cool. They ARE pretty damn cute.

Here's the photos of the week:

Jayden. He came home from a playdate today and said, "Babies, babies, babies." He brought his footstool over to the bassinate and peered into it. There have been a couple more meltdowns than normal, but he also seems to be enjoying his big brother status.

The girls cuddling. Andie always has to snuggle next to her sister. Allie is the one with her eyes open. They seemed to really look around yesterday. It was as if they could really see for the first time:







As you might expect, I wrote a column for the Greeley Tribune a few hours after the girls were home. I've posted these in the past, so here it goes:




By Dan England
Tribune staff writer



People ask me what it takes to climb a mountain. It's a question with many answers, and most of them aren't in your control.

It takes a clear day free of thunderstorms. It takes a little sleep (but not a lot). It usually takes partners willing to suffer alongside you.

Most of all, though, for me, it took four words.

I Will Not Fail.

I Will Not Fail, repeated sometimes as often as my heart pounding through my fleece shirt, got me through many of the miseries mountains throw at you when you're attempting to reach their tops.

I Will Not Fail got me through wind that knocked me down like a playground bully, altitude sickness so bad that I puked on many trips even before I started and a deep layer of exhaustion that coated me like caramel on an apple.

It even got me through my worst day, when I got caught in a rock avalanche in Rocky Mountain National Park and spent 16 hours walking back to the car with Dad after the boulders pounded me into a bloody mess.

Now I face a new challenge.

I wonder what I can do to find the strength to bring twin girls into a safe, happy and healthy home.

Allie and Andie England were born Thursday, and I'm a proud, exhausted and happy father.

I'm also a little terrified.

Parenthood, to do it right, is a tough task, filled with endless squalls and bottles and diapers, all of it on much less sleep than you want or even need.

It is, in many ways I've found, like mountain climbing, in the sense that you've got a completely intimidating and daunting task in front of you, and you don't have much sleep in you to help you do it.

Those who have been there before, as we have with Jayden, who will turn 2 at the end of June, know what's ahead. In this case, with twins awaiting our care, along with a demanding toddler, ignorance may indeed have been bliss.

But every year I train for the mountains, and I've found that the running and lifting and preparing the gear gets me ready mentally as well as physically. It prepares you for the tough task ahead. It prepares you to push out the pain and let in the joy.

Kate went into labor twice, once at 32 weeks, before finally having what I now call my two little wonders of the world. And I believe that those incidents, along with painting the nursery pink, getting armfuls of pink clothes and staining our new wooden fence (not pink, thank God) may have helped prepare me.

I'm terrified. But I'm also at peace. Kind of.

The next time I see them, which will be in just a few hours, the next morning after the first day of their lives, I'll stare down at the two little 6-pound bundles (dressed in pink, probably) and gather myself for their first serious talk from Daddy.

I'll be honest with them, first and foremost. I'll tell them that Daddy wasn't sure about you two at first. Daddy, to be honest, still isn't completely sure. Daddy, in fact, may be more scared than you.

Then I'll tell them that they, along with Jayden, will be the toughest climb I've ever faced.

Finally, though, I'll kiss their heads and whisper something in their ear.

"Hello, little ones," I'll say. "I'm glad you're healthy. I'm glad you're here. I love you."

And I Will Not Fail.

Out of the womb

I suppose I don't blame the twins for taking as long as they did to leave the womb. The womb, after all, is a pretty nice place.
There's food, shelter and no real danger.
Eventually, though, everyone has to leave.
And so we brought them home today.
Both of them.
(We tried to leave one for a few more days, to sort of break us back into infant parenting, but the nurses wouldn't go for it).
As any infant is forced out of the womb by push, yank or, in our case, cut, something strange happens. The parents enter a womb.
The womb is the hospital, and it, like a uterus, is a pretty nice place. There's good, cheap, healthy food via room service or a quick trip to the cafeteria. There's shelter from life, really, as an unlimited supply of diapers, wipes and formula (or breastfeeding support; we took advantage of both) is only a reach away. Help from nurses is also only a moment's notice away as well. Most of all, there's no real danger. There's no danger of a sleepless night because you can take the babies to the nursery. There's no real danger of pulling your hair out when the babies just won't stop crying because the nurses are there to take over (or the dozens of visitors are there to take the baby). There's no real danger of the baby dying, and that irrational fear alone will burn a hole in parents' stomachs. Believe me, there was many a night when I stood over Jayden's crib and relaxed only after I saw his chest rise and fall a few times.
Outside the womb, all these things lurk just behind the cute outfits, cute poops and cute cuddles. And life tends to get thrown in there too. Like, say, your job. And all the stupid little things that we have to do, like laundry (which increases with babies) and cleaning (ditto) and making dinner. Many of these things are ruled by people who don't work on infant time and could care less that you have 20 minutes to race back to the house before your wife needs your help feeding a twin. Just the other day, taking care of a sinus infection (in that wonderful timing that life enjoys throwing at you) meant spending two hours at an "urgent" (ha) care clinic, then waiting an hour while the dumbfawkers at Wal-Mart stopping mouth-breathing long enough to fill my prescription in one of the worst cases of customer service I have ever seen.
But when Wal-Mart decided to lose a prescription customer, we were in the womb of the hospital, so it didn't matter that much.
Now we're out.
We've been lucky. We've had so many people help us. Twins do have an advantage in the sense that even those who would rather be strapped to headphones and forced to listen to recordings of goats humping, fingernails on a chalkboard and Celine Dion than have children understand that twins are tough. We've had more outfits than Baby Gap's spring catalouge dumped on us. We've got enough diapers to start our own store (look out, Wal-Mart), and just the other day my neighbor mowed my lawn for me, without me asking and even though I've been there four months and already managed to splatter the side of his garage while I stained my fence during a windy day. Every Tuesday one of Kate's co-workers fixes us dinner. My co-workers are planning to ship dinners as well.
We're hardly rich, but it's a nice start.
And Allie and Andie, so far, have been easy-peasy. I know there will be nights - and Allie already screamed bloody murder for 10 minutes before Kate finished pumping and we gave her the sweet, sweet gold - but so far, so good. So very, very good. Our doctor today said they've been healthier than many singletons.
Twins power, activate!
I'm lucky to have such a superstar of a mom for a wife. She's already pumping more milk than most dairy cows and has remained in good spirits despite a painful C-section and a touch of the blues (she had her first "I don't know why I'm crying" episode tonight).
We're out of the womb now, and we feel what I"m sure Allie and Andie felt as they were taken out of the uterus: A little scared, a little unsure and a little dazed.
But they're also looking around at all the new experiences with a little bit of wonder.
So are we.
After all, the world outside the womb can be a pretty nice place too.




P.S. I got an article published at Poker Works, ironically enough the first in a series on learning how to play poker while raising babies. Linda wrote a nice article about our birth, as did CC.
And I can't thank everyone enough for all your comments. It was so nice to see all of the support. I'll need it in these next few weeks, even if I'm not around as much as I'd like to be (the Mookie, for instance, is out for now). I"ll keep up as much as I can in these next few weeks and thanks.



AND NOW FOR SOME PHOTOS!!!!!



ANOTHER shot of the twins as they start to wake up from post-womb hibernation:



They naturally gravitate toward each other. I swear this is not a pose:



Jayden holding a sister (I'm not sure which one):



We found the house decorated when we got back. Outside the womb seems colorful and friendly. We just hope it continues!

Born, born and reborn

It's now 10:45 p.m., and Day One of my daughter's lives is only a few hours old.
My new life is as well.
The streets are nearly empty of cars, the street lights flood even the darkest parts of Greeley, and the traffic signals turn green even before I stop as I approach. Most sleep in preparation for Friday, the best day of the week, to be sure, but still another workday.
It's peaceful.
It's exactly how I feel inside.
It's also exactly the opposite of how I felt just a few hours ago.
• • •

We went into the doc's on edge and, I'm sorry to say now, ready for battle. Kate had had enough, after yet another sleepless night (I barely got a few myself). One of the twins was in her ribs, she could barely breathe, and she was tired of lugging around two babies.
But our doctor, after checking Kate and finding out that she was essentially halfway there, agreed with our pleas and checked Kate into the hospital.
It was time, she agreed.
Two hours later, after dropping off softball equipment for our team at a friend's house (priorities, of course) and posting (priorities again), we were in the hospital, and doc broke Kate's water. We hung around for another two hours after a nice little ole thing we call an epidural (I prefer to call it heaven). Suddenly Kate was ready to go, and that's when the shortest half hour of my life, coupled with the longest two minutes of my life, happened.
"She's at 10."
"Dan, put these scrubs on. We're headed to the OR."
"Uh, OK."
"Go, go go."
It was another 10 minutes when Kate was prepared to deliever and our doc suddenly sent me away.
"Baby B is deaccelerating. I have to do a C-section. Dan you have to step outside."
• • •
So I sat outside the doors, calm as can be on the outside, while my stomach did the Tango.
The clock slowed to a crawl.
All I knew was one of my daughters was having trouble and they were preparing to carve up Kate like she was the roast beast at Christmas. And so I waited.
And waited.
It was only two mintues, but when a nurse came back for me, I sprinted to the OR and found two squaling girls on the side.
Oh.
Wow.
OK.
"Which one is the boy?"
Um...
"No, wait, they're both girls."
Heh. I almost fainted.
• • •
So there they were, and I really thought that this time wouldn't be nearly as weird, now that I've had a baby under my belt, but seeing two of them there was...um....I still dont' know how to describe it.
It didn't hit me until I carried both of them back to Kate in the recovery room. It would be the second time she would see them.
Holy shit, I thought. My arms are full.
(We've already heard "You've got your hands full" at least 15 times, and we haven't even left the damn hospital. Oh and once I looked up and saw, literally, 25 people crowded around the window staring at my babies. Yes, there are two. Now please go away).
My arms are full, my hands are full, and my life is full now. It will almost be too much.
Almost.
Jayden seemed really excited about his sisters, and while I know it won't always be that way, it was really nice to see him smile at his two girls.
Kate was so relieved despite just being carved open a few hours ago. She feels good. It's her last labor. I can tell she's really happy.
As for me, I am at peace, and I'm not sure I expected that feeling. Maybe this was hanging over my head more than I realized.
Or maybe I'm ready for it. Maybe I'm ready for the chaos and the joy and the exhaustation I'll surely feel these next few months.
Maybe I'm ready for my new life.
Day one of their lives is only a few hours old.
Day two of my own starts tommorow.





Kate moments after they were born:







And say hello to Andie and Allie. Allie was 6 pds., 1 oz. Andie was 5 pds., 13 ozs. They look good, they just ate well, they are breathing even better and the doctor does not think they will need any time in the NICU.
Allie is the one on the left. I think.







P.S. They look identical, don't they? Even trained baby nurses have a hard time telling them apart. Maybe I'm being ghey, but I have to admit this excites me to no end.

Stirrings, Part II (This time it's for real)

Doc just stripped Kate's membranes and that seems to have gotten her going like a house o fire.
We are headed to the hospital as we speak. If it doesn't work, she will break Kate's water.

Long story short: We're having those babies today.

Tagged by CC (and I didn't know it until I already posted)

You get two posts on a Sunday. Don't let it go to your head.


CC over at Quest of a Closet Poker Player tagged me, so here are seven random and little-known facts about myself.

1. I'm having twin girls.
HA HA HA HA HA. Just kidding. I know as much as I've blogged about this that everyone on planet Earth, and maybe some on that new planet that seems able to hold life, knows that.

(Edit: Upon re-reading this, I just realized what an arrogant comment that is. Yeah, EVERYONE on planet Earth reads your blog, Dan. Come on. I have maybe, maybe, 35 regular readers, and that's just on bloglines, so it really could be a lot less).

OK, seriously:


1. I'm not sure if I ever wrote about this, but I played enough trombone in college to probably major in it. I was in the basketball band at the University of Kansas and played in its jazz ensembles. I was one of the better players (you have to be to make the men's basketball band, which gets to travel to the tournaments with the team), but I wasn't one of the top players. I played when I worked in Salina in the symphony and a funk band there and played for five years in a Greeley swing band before finally giving it up after Jayden was born two years ago.

2. I had braces three times, including a year in college, which was awesome. The third time I had clear braces, so at least I didn't look 15. I really hope Jayden doesn't get my jaw.

3. I was such a geek in the seventh grade that I was teased all the time. Not fighting back more is my biggest regret today, and it's probably why I can be difficult, even an asshole at times. I don't want to ever feel like I didn't fight for myself ever again. Unfortunately this affected my relationship with my little brother, resulting in me treating him like shit for many years (biggest regret number two), but we're close now.

4. I could give up alcohol, candy or any kind of dessert, really (peanut butter pie might be tough), but I don't think I could give up queso and chips. It's my favorite food and my biggest weakness.

5. I always have to keep busy. I can't just sit around and chill, unless I"m reading a book or watching a movie because then I'm "doing something." While this has helped me accomplish a great deal, it's probably prevented me from smelling the roses and just enjoying the quiet moments.

6. I am a bleeding-heart, pinko liberal because I believe in personal freedoms more than any other value I hold dear. Yet as I begin to raise children I worry about the choices they would make and almost would prefer to make them myself. Isn't that a contradiction?

7. And if you didn't get the idea that I love the mountains, I named my dog Denali after the highest peak in North America. Despite this, I've almost died three times in the mountains. In fact, me not dying in each of those situations is something like hitting a two-outer in poker. I've been lucky. This has led me to question why I continue to climb when I now have kids, and I don't have a really good answer. This is one reason why I'm embracing running as I hope it will fill the void as I continue to cut back.

Tagged (and I apologize if I tagged someone who's already been tagged; finding those who haven't was harder than I thought)

Drizz
Stacie the twins queen
Chipper
Iakaris
Katitude
Iron Girl
Love Elf
JJok

Pocket Pair Problem

After being within a gnat's wig of puking, I learned not to eat a huge bowl of cereal before my first 5K.
After nursing a horrible headache and barely making the peak, I learned that drinking a lot before a big mountain was probably not a good idea.
And after dealing with a mess that I have not yet fully recovered from, even months later, I've learned not to feed a baby prunes.
Why, then, can't I learn how to play pocket pairs like a maniac?

Actually, I have learned how to play them well. I've learned to be aggressive with them but fold them when necessary. Just not all the time.
Last night I shoved with AA and not only my profit for the night but my stack along with it. The one mistake wiped out three solid hours of cash profit and left me in the red for the night.
I misplayed the hand several ways. I did not re-raise enough before the flop and got two callers. Then I raised on the flop, and two called me. The board was harmless and uncoordinated, and yet I chose to ignore the red flag that the calls should have sent up. When a K hit the turn, I shoved and a guy with a set of 8s happily called me after betting .25 into a $10 flop (which screamed "please don't go away").
It's such a horrible play - I was hoping both of them had QQ? - that I won't go into it too much.
What I'm wondering is what it is about pocket pairs that continue to be so tempting?
I do such a great job of folding them 9/10 times, but it's that one time that can wipe out all the efforts of the other 9. That's No Limit Hold 'Em, and that's why the game is so great.
I know I've made more money off others' pocket pairs than any other hand. They are why I win.
But I think I've probably lost more off them either.



Oh, and speaking of a pair, after 37 weeks, Kate has decided that she wants to remain pregnant forever.
Ha, ha, ha, just kidding honey.
Ow!
I really feel sorry for her at this point. I'd be a ROYAL bitch if I was carrying around 13 pounds of girls who have decided that they would rather not come out until, say, August. Instead her spirits remain high, although they are wavering. Kate started growling at a car ahead of us because she didn't pull out screaming and tires smoking the instant the light turned green.
Yes, it's the anticipation that makes Christmas so great, but you wouldn't like it either if they brought out the Christmas trees in July and told you that new blue tricycle would be there for you in just a few days.
And, of course, if you had to GIVE BIRTH to the tricycle.



P.S. Congrats to Ryan on his little one. What a doll.