Today’s entry is a bit of a risk. It’s one of those subjects where upon bringing it up, the response is either, “Oh my God, we do that too,” or it’s, “Wow. That’s gross, you’re weird.” Although, if you’re a parent who has endured potty training toddlers, you know that the only thing truly indecent is spending a fortune on diapers.   

Most of us are probably familiar with the Redbox DVD rental kiosks. They hang out in grocery stores, or loiter in front of McDonald’s and 7-11s like panhandlers asking for a dollar.  But for that dollar they provide a twenty-four-hour rental of the latest DVD. It’s actually awesome, and very convenient. That is, unless you’re in line behind a well-meaning-yet-clu​eless movie purchaser.

But you can’t be too hard on people. Redbox is new, and as a society we’re still trying to figure out how to incorporate these machines into our lives. For the sake of parents everywhere, I will now establish proper Redbox etiquette:

Great news! Scientists in London are working on a way to make babies with three genetic parents. It is actually a procedure to fix faulty mitochondria, but no matter, the end result would be a child born from one male contribution, and two female. Soon another controversial book will have to be written: Suzy Has Two Mommies—and a Very Tired Daddy. 

Before I get into the account of my twins’ birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese, I want to say that my kids did have a lot of fun, and we will be going back many times. The rides were clean, the salad bar was fresh and plentiful, and the pizza was horrendous—which if you want your kids to eat salad is actually a good thing.

I haven’t been to a Chuck. E. Cheese since I was a kid. Back then I remember it being much dirtier, but I didn’t care because they had skee ball—a game that was not only fun, but rewarded you with tickets you could then redeem for a Sony Walkman.

This month I am proud to introduce mega-parent Carla Betts. Carla is the matriarch of a military family, and is the singular definition of grace in tough times. Like many parents with a spouse in the Service, Carla has selflessly given up much of her life’s choices to support both her husband’s career, and the protection of our nation. And talk about a parent who has been tested in every way possible!  On his second tour in Afghanistan, her husband, Captain Stephen Betts was involved in an attack that left him seriously injured. In addition to losing his left leg at the knee and shattering his right leg, his right arm was also shattered, and broken at the elbow.  But as I learned through this profile, his family and spirit escaped the attack unharmed. And a large part of that is due to his amazing wife, Carla! She has taken care of her two sons with poise and patience, all while moving constantly, and overcoming a serious injury to her husband.

For this piece, we wanted to surprise Carla. So let’s get to know her through the eyes of her wonderfully thoughtful sister, Leah Laird:

One of my favorite aspects of Facebook is learning what’s become of my once “troubled” classmates. I expected many of their photos to be of them holding bongs, not babies. But I’m repeatedly shocked by how many former stoners and heavy partiers are now professionals with good families.

I probably should not be as happy as I am that the first major language slip in front of our toddlers came from my wife. I’m not proud of it, but I can have very salty language when so inspired. I was almost certain that when my kids heard their first F-bomb, it would come from me. I would then have to suffer the wrath of my wife’s disapproval.

But never let it be said that there aren’t small miracles. Yesterday my wife let one rip—after which my talkative toddler enthusiastically read the transcript back the jury. But in all honesty, even though it was my wife who dropped the F-bomb, I must be credited with an assist.

You ever see a movie in which a character learns that what he thought was reality was in fact an elaborate conspiracy? Well, I used to think nothing like that happened in the real world—until my wife and I began insisting to our twin toddlers that a sliding glass door is just a window. The reason for creating the vast conspiracy is simply that, if we admit to our kids that it is a sliding glass door, they’ll always want it opened, and they’ll want to go outside constantly. It will drive us crazy. It’s obvious that the kids know the truth. They can tell it’s a sliding glass door. It looks just like the sliding glass door from our old house. But our insisting it’s merely a window has kept them from attempting millions of mind numbing requests to open the door.