My Two Adorable Imps

Don't worry, this is not going to be one of those gushy, syrupy-sweet proclamations about children being lovely and all, because the fact is I don't like kids-they're noisy, they destroy things, and they block your way in public places. When my wife, Louie told me when we were just married that there might be a possiblity of us not being able to have kids due to a condition of hers, I said: "no problem."

Then about 2 years into our marriage, Camy came along.

To backtrack a bit, it is usual for the baby's nickname to be given based on the real name. Here it was the reverse. Going through a toy store, I saw an action figure of a Street Fighter character named 'Camy', and I thought 'Camy Caridad' had a nice ring to it so we worked on her real name from there. I first thought of 'Camilla Caridad' but it was amended to a more western 'Camille' so we ended up with 'Victoria Camille' because it was Louie's suggestion that we intersperse the parent's name- Victor, mine, with the baby's.

Anyway, do NOT believe the movie scene where a newborn baby in a nursery is the cutest thing. I had that picture in my mind while waiting for the nurse to get my new-born child. As the curtains to the viewing window parted, lo and behold, I discovered that I had given birth to a lovely...conehead.

I do not envy first-time parents during the child's first year. It is tough and degrading - you get hands-on, at times face-on experience with every type of excrement the human body can produce - puke on your face, poo on your arm and pee, well, everywhere.

So Louie and I (actually mostly Louie), went through years of sleepless nights and dirty hands bringing up Camy (I didn't know milk and diapers cost a fortune). Then several years later when Camy was marginally proficient in communicating, she uttered: "I want a baby brother."

We tried, but Camy didn't get a baby brother. 'Sofie', or 'Sofia Louise' (following the tradition of including the parent's name - it was Louie's turn) was born thereafter. Just when Camy stopped waking us in the middle of the night, it was Sofie's turn.

What is it with kids and stickers? And why do they always stick them on things that are not supposed to have stickers on them - Doors, walls, the refrigerator, the tv screen? How can a fragile child of 2 years have the strength to rip off a faucet from its socket? Why did my long lost ballpen reappear inside a toy car? Why do they choose 3am as snack time? Such are just some of the puzzling questions that parents have to live with while raising their offspring.

I'll let you in on a secret though: when my kids turned about 3 and were already able to talk coherently, I realized, no matter how jaded I am about children, that I love these two troublemakers more than anything in the world.

There is nothing like going home after a tough day at work to two kids jumping up and down at the sight of you and running up to give you a hug (though afterwards when you REALLY want to rest, you tell them to go to the other room).

I am proud to say, that my daughters are both pretty and smart and I would kill anyone who would do them no good. So watch out, future boyfriends!

Don't get me wrong, I still don't like kids. In fact, having two of my own has proven my notions about them. But there is a world of difference between Camy and Sofie and all other kids in the world - they're mine.