O'Henry!!!

This post receives the highest number of hits from Google. If you are here looking for an O'Henry Bar recipe, I suggest you read >> this post instead. Enjoy!

For as long as I can remember, there has been an "ancient" recipe in our family for this great dessert that has been dubbed "O'Henry" bars.

Growing up, my Mom or one of my four older sisters ... seemed to always be whipping up a batch of "O'Henry's".

Theoretically - O'Henry Bars are intended to be a "dessert" type of thing, kind of like a chocolate chip cookie. But my problem has always been that whenever there are O'Henry's around - I tend to eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Because of my inability to walk past a refrigerator that I know holds O'Henry bars - and the fact that my metabolism has slowed down to a crawl (or, perhaps it has to do with my inability to go to the gym and work off any extra calories I pack in) ... I don't make O'Henry's too frequently, anymore.

The one exception was during the time I was nursing. I was told that oatmeal helped to boost breastmilk supply ... so I ate a tray of O'Henry's a week. And then I have the audacity to be confused why my body proportions are way off. Go figure...

Since I've been married to Charlie, I have introduced him to the wonderful world of the O'Henry bar. Our children, however, have not yet been privvy to this ancient family treat.

Until today.

I am also sharing this ancient family recipe with all of you ... the 60 or so people** who read my blog every day. You can find the recipe at the bottom of the post.

Charlie appreciates this dessert, I just don't believe that he has the same obsession for O'Henry bars that I do. Nor ... does Charlie have the same obsession for O'Henry bars that our children apparently do.

Today was most definitely a day of firsts.

• The kids had their first taste of O'Henry bars, which they absolutely LOVED.

• The kids learned how to take off their shirts.

• The girls wore the new nightgowns that Kathleen and Poppa Alex sent.
  

• The kids learned how to take off their diapers. While in their crib.

• I learned that O'Henry bars - containing oatmeal & Karo syrup which act as laxatives - are not the ideal food to serve a toddler. Who are wearing nightgowns. And can take off their diapers. While in their crib. When I'm out of the room.
  

My guess is that whoever coined the term "O'Henry Bar" ... was a young Mother. And the first time she served up this delicious snack to her toddler son, Henry ... was shortly before the first time he figured out how to remove his own diaper. Probably while in his crib. Probably while his young Mother was out of the room. Thus, prompting "OH HENRY!!!"

With time, the name of this dessert has taken on an Irish twist.

But trust me ... there's nothing "Irish" about these bars. Or if there is ... it isn't luck.

At least not for the person who discovers two toddlers with dirty diapers in their hands.

***************

**I suspect that 55 of my 60 daily readers are family members and since you already have this recipe committed to memory (along with your name and my birthday) ... this is for my other five readers. Apparently, one of those five readers is Lynn Bartee. Is that right?! If so ... here's the "shout-out" I promised to Lorie. I hope you have a great day & enjoy your morning cup of java!

Jen's Ancient Family Recipe for O'Henry Bars:

1 stick butter
3/4 c. brown sugar
3 tsp. vanilla
4 c. oatmeal
3/4 c. Karo syrup

Mix above ingredients together. Spread in to ungreased cookie sheet (I find that dabbing my hands with water helps the "mashing" process). Cook in preheated oven (350) for 8-10 minutes or until bubbly. Don't overcook, or the bars will be too hard! Remove from oven and let cool.

In a sauce pan, melt ~1 c. of chocolate chips and ~1/2 c. of peanut butter - mix until smooth. (Taste to be sure that you have the peanut butter/chocolate ratio to your liking.) There should be enough of the mixture so that it sufficiently covers the bars when poured on. Pour the peanut butter/chocolate chip mixture over the top of the cooled bars.

Stick in the fridge until cooled, cut in to 2"x 2" squares and serve (with a BIG glass of milk!)

Adventures at Home Deep-in-debt Depot

I've decided that I like shopping at Home Depot better than shopping at Lowe's.

If for no other reason, Home Depot has race car shopping carts that the kids absolutely loved.

I probably could have fit all three kidlets in to one cart (someone sitting in the "basket" with a seatbelt) but that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun as sitting in the "driver seat" and steering.

Because I knew that I would be at Home Depot for at least 45-minutes, I needed to minimize the amount of screaming optimize the kids excitement with our shopping experience. As such - everyone got their own steering wheel.

(Besides, I needed all the space I could get in the cart, what with all the "home improvement supplies" I would be picking up during my outing.)

The "home improvement supplies" I was specifically sent to the store to pick up were namely:

1) Plants for our backyard, and

2) Lattice for the structure Charlie was building around the air conditioning unit.

(Yes. This outing was last week. But. I've just had so many other things going on that I haven't had an opportunity to post about this yet. I've literally got a backlog of postings for at least a month. I'm prioritizing, you see...)

Even though I only had two items on my list - that didn't stop me from perusing the isles and looking at all the other "home improvement items" that I realized we need. I didn't realize just how badly we needed these items, however ... until I was standing in the store looking at them.

Lucky for me, the kids were happily entertained with their steering wheels. So armed with Snacktraps and mini-sized snack boxes of raisins ... I was able to spend a glorious TWO hours at Home Depot. I am now entirely convinced that this is the store where more Americans go completely bankrupt.

Here's a partial listing of the "essential house improvement items" I discovered I couldn't live another day year without:

1) A new shower - for our bathroom;

2) A new bathtub (a jacuzzi tub would be especially nice) - for our bathroom;

3) All new tile work around the shower and jacuzzi bathtub - in our bathroom;

4) Marble countertops - in our bathroom;

5) New windows;

6) French doors;

7) A new barbeque (in the form of an outdoor kitchen);

8) New patio furniture - in the form of solid Teak with comfy cushions on the chairs;

9) Hardwood floors to replace our nasty a$$ carpet that covers 40% of our house;

10) Roll-out doors for all of our cupboards;

11) A pressure washer. It just looked really cool;

12) A treehouse;

13) A big tree for the treehouse to go in;

14) New paint ... both inside and out; and last but NOT least ...

15) A second story. As in - a whole 'nuther level to our home.

The thing is ... we've lived in the same lovely little house for the past 9 years. It's a cozy abode with as much charm as you can squeeze from a tract-home in Southern California.

(In all honesty - it's a great house ... in a great neighborhood. We love it here.)

Even though we bought this house new, after 9 years, and the addition of three children to our family ... it needs a bit of work.

Our house is a 3 bedroom, 2 bath with ~1700 square feet. When we found out we were expecting triplets, one of the first things we did (after freaking out) is start looking at larger homes. Unfortunately, the real estate market is so prohibitive in California (a 4 or 5 bedroom house would cost ~$800K in our neighborhood) - we decided to stay put and make do.

All along, we've been thinking that eventually, we need to move. Eventually, we need to get a bigger place. But ... funny enough ... we're making it work right where we are.

We love that our house is a one-story with a great floorplan. There are no stairs, so no need to worry about toddlers toppling down a flight, and because of the size, it's relatively easy to clean ... provided we stay on top of minimizing clutter. (HOWEVER - that doesn't mean I still wouldn't like to get my own House-Elf.)

Best of all - we aren't drowning in a mortgage payment and are able to "make-end's meet" with two part-time jobs. (Yeah, it's a pretty ideal situation.) So, even though a little extra space would be nice ... the advantage to staying where we are, far outweighs moving.

Like I said ... this house is perfect for us right now. It just needs a little bit of work.

I didn't realize just HOW much work it needed, until I went to Home Depot.

THIS is why I should never go shopping, alone.

Although, had Charlie been with me, he might have co-signed the Home Depot credit application and I would be sitting in a jacuzzi tub right now, instead of updating my blog.

Ah. If only my April Fool's joke wasn't a joke.

I checked out of Home Depot only $132.00 poorer than when I went in (as opposed to $98,930.00 poorer had I bought the other 15 "essential household items" that I deemed necessary), and drove home.

The very next day, after the plants started to wilt from sitting on our back patio in the blazing sun were acclimated to the climate in our yard, I set out planting.

Fortunately ... I had three little helpers that made my job go remarkably fast. If you consider "fast" to be the speed at which grass grows. Or ... paint dries.

The kids then rapidly turned their attention to "helping" Charlie with his construction activities thankfully, giving me an opportunity to finish the planting.

Charlie quickly realized that it's a difficult to do construction related activities when you have three toddlers doggedly determined on playing with the tape measure and level. After Charlie tried unsuccessfully for 15 minutes to measure a small section of lattice, I stood in the doorway and sang out "Who wants ice cream?!" until all the kids ran in the house.

(The lengths to which I'll go to get things done around here, never cease to amaze me. But if you read my blog, you already know how the rest of my evening went.)

Even though these activities happened last weekend ... Charlie and I spent the better part of today, learning more about hardwood floors.

We've mutually decided that if we are going to stay in this house for another few* years ... it would be more comfortable for us, if we updated a few* things. (* We're not entirely sure how to quantify "few").

I don't know if we'll purchase all of the 15 "essential household items" I summarized above. There's a chance I could be talked out of the tree house. And pressure washer.

The Chain Gang

Yet once again ... my short term memory loss comes in really handy.

Especially on a lazy Saturday afternoon when I am home alone and have three toddlers who are climbing the walls of our house ... while Dad is at the gym.

I figured that if I was ever going to be in a position where I could leave the house with the kids sans baby stroller ... we need to work on staying upright and not falling all over ourselves and each other our coordination with the safety harnesses. Post haste.

Truthfully, we had much better success walking around the block this time.

Perhaps most importantly, I remembered to bring my camera.

Everyone kinda stayed on the sidewalk - and I made the brilliant decision to tether the babies together, so I was only holding on to one "harness" and not three separate leashes straps.

There were only a few topples and one major pile-up.

The most notable topple came at the start of our voyage, when they ran in three different directions, and all wound up on the ground - looking at the sky. They quickly realized they had to move as a pack to prevent that from happening again.

The pile-up occurred when Elizabeth, who was the leader of the pack (with her ever faithful "Bunny" I didn't even realize she had him until I took this picture) ... came to an abrupt halt because she spotted a Cheez-It.

We love Cheez-It's.

But, we don't love Cheez-It's when they are on the ground and covered with ants. I would have stopped her before she picked up this tasty treat and stuck it in her mouth ... but these kids are lightening fast.

The Omniverous Ones strike again.

Several cars slowed down to gawk ... a few beeped their horns and waved ... and some actually stopped.

It took us 90 minutes to go 1/2 way around our block, so we were walking at a pace of approximately 0.005 miles per hour.

Stated another way ... the ants on the Cheez-It's were covering more ground than we were.

Fortunately, there were no rabbit droppings to worry about.

I'm thinking a cute Halloween costume would be to dress the kids in black and white pinstripes and load them in to their safety harnesses. Charlie and I would be Bailiffs.

God's Fingerprints

Everynight before bedtime ... we say our evening prayers. They go something like this:

"Now I lay me down to sleep ... I pray the Lord my soul to keep ... healthy and happy in every way ... with love and laughter filling each day. Please fill our hearts with compassion, tolerance and patience - especially for our Mom & Dad (they need LOTS of patience). Please look over all of our friends and family and ALL the children of the world, tonight. Amen."

I've been saying an evening prayer with the babies for as long as I can remember. Our prayers follow the same script, almost every time. It's only been recently that they too, will fold their little hands in prayer as soon as I start and they will babble along with me.

My day never feels entirely "done" until I say an evening prayer with the children. Even when I'm out of town on business, I ask that Charlie recite a prayer with the babies before bedtime.

Evening Prayer is that important to me.

I'll dive in to my thoughts on God and spirituality in another post ... but for now ... the important thing is that I most definitely believe in God. Infact, one of my favorite quotes - of all times - is "Everything has God's fingerprints on it."

Everything has God's Fingerprints on it.

That's pretty powerful.

When I think back on our years and years of infertility - I couldn't see the "holiness" in our struggles ... but now, I do.

When I think back on the serious health scares that both Charlie and I faced early in our marriage - I couldn't see the "holiness" in those struggles ... but now, I do.

When I think back on the ups and downs of life - including family feuds and Wars abroad - I couldn't see the "holiness'" in those struggles ... but now, I do.

The majority of the time - even in the most dire of situations - I am somewhat able to wrap my mind around the "holiness" and find comfort in God's presence. I'm not sure if this mentality makes me an optimist, or a believer. I'd like to think I'm a little of both.

But try as I might, I absolutely cannot wrap my mind around the horror that has rocked Utah the past few weeks. Lured away from her own back yard ... a beautiful little 5-year old girl ... was taken from her family. Forever. A monster that lived a few houses away ... a 20-year old beast from hell ... stole this little girl. He strangled her and then sexually assaulted her body, and stuck her in a trunk in his basement. Destiny was nothing to him. Nothing.

Because I don't watch the news or television, I didn't know about this kidnapping. But when I was 'blog-hopping' today over lunch, I learned of this event - and the tragic outcome. So if any of my co-workers might be wondering, this is why I burst in to tears while sitting at my desk - and started yelling profanity at my computer monitor.

Destiny was five. Five. Years. Old.

She was quite possibly, not yet in Kindergarten.

She was quite possibly, at an age where she still needed her Mommy and Daddy to help her take a bath at night and get dressed in her pajamas.

She was most definitely, at an age where she still slept with a lovey.

She was five years old.

I broke down in tears. I couldn't stop crying. Not at work - and not during the entire drive home. I had flashbacks to Polly Klaas in 1993. That horrible event unfolded only miles from our house while Charlie and I were at college in Northern California. Yet, I felt more grief than imaginable thinking of Destiny. Maybe because I'm a Mom now, and I think of my own children. The horror, pain and nausea that wracked my body today - it was real.

I talked with Charlie about my "reaction" tonight over dinner. I started my sentence with "I just can't imagine what her family is going through ...." and then I stopped myself. I can imagine what they are going though. They are living every parent's worst possible nightmare.

When our babies first came home from the hospital - I happened to have some "down time" (i.e. I was vegging out in front of the TV while pumping) and I caught a segment on Oprah. This was the one Oprah show, I wish I had missed because I've never been the same, since. The story was about sexual predators. Oprah had an individual on her show that had set a trap and busted a man, beast, monster, scum bag who had paid $10,000.00 to have sex with a 5-month old baby.

That's right. Five. Months. Old.

Yay that they caught THAT malicious, piece of evil crap. But the fact that these creton exist who would commit such heinous crimes - literally keeps me awake at night.

The mere existence of these monsters is what makes me triple check every night before bed that all the doors and windows to our home are locked.

The mere existence of these monsters is what makes me check the internet to find out where convicted sexual predators live in our neighborhood.

The mere existence of these monsters makes me realize that not all of them have been caught ... and as such ... I must exercise diligence ALL THE TIME.

Even with all the precautions I have in place ... most nights ... I will get up, at least once, to check on our children, as they sleep.

How any one could possibly harm one of God's most perfect creations - an innocent child - is completely beyond me.

Even though I pray for patience, tolerance and compassion every single night ... when it comes to these monsters ... I have nothing of the sort. "Throw them to the dogs" ... that's what I say. "Public executions" ... that's what Charlie says. As much as I try to have love and compassion in my heart - no where, in any shape or form, do I see God's Fingerprints on these horrific situations.

Never will I stop my prayers for all the children of the world. But tonight, I am praying especially hard for beautiful little Destiny and her family. May they find peace and comfort ...and somewhere in the ugliness of this situation ... may they also find God's Fingerprints.

I desperately wish I could.

Grandpa (aka: Granddad, Papa) Alex

The past few days have been spent with Grandpa (aka: Granddad, Papa) Alex, Charlie's Dad.

As I'm writing this ... there is turmoil in our home. Charlie and I are divided on how we are supposed to refer to his Dad, now that we have children. Even though there are 10 grand children in Charlie's family, apparently there is no clear consensus on the appropriate nomenclature for "Grandfather".

Really ... it's little surprise that there are so many names for one person. Papa's first name isn't even Alex. It's George. Yet, he was Confirmed Alex, and that name has stuck with him for the better part of his life. My husband is actually William Charles. But, his family calls him "Guy" and all of his friends call him "Charlie". Only telemarketers call him "William" and sometimes, they'll shorten it to "Bill". That's when I know to hang up, straight away.

For the purpose of this posting, I'll refer to Charlie's Dad as Papa. Because, that's what I call him ... and since I'm the one that updates the blog ... I win.

Sorry, Charlie.

We had a wonderful time seeing Papa. Charlie got to spend some quality time with his Dad which included playing 9-holes of golf yesterday morning (Charlie shot a birdie on his last hole, not bad considering he hasn't played golf in four years) - and going on a shopping excursion to Costco yesterday afternoon. The babies got to crawl all over their Papa ... and I had a chance to talk with a man who would undoubtedly be my first choice for a "life-line" if I ever made it on to the game show "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?"

Papa is a wonderful story teller and we learned some interesting things about him while he was visiting...

We learned that during his summers growing up in Toronto, Canada ... he was a golf caddy. Carrying two (2) bags for 18 holes ... would earn him a hefty 65 cents. The Canadian conversion for 65 cents, is a little less than a Loony. (Or is it a Toony?) Considering the year was 1942 ... that was pretty good money.

We learned that Papa is a World War II buff. In large part, because he and his Dad, who was a veteran of World War I (in the Canadian Corps of Engineers), would sit and listen to the radio together, every night.

We learned that as a boy growing up, he loved to play football and ... and as a true-blue Canadian, he loved to play hockey, the most. We learned that when he was at University studying for his degree in Electrical Engineering ... he played intramural sports.

We heard again, the wonderful story about how Papa had met Charlie's mom (Jeanne). How both of their father's had worked for the same company ... and during Papa's apprenticeship in America, the two were introduced. Slowly but surely, Jeanne fell for Papa and the two were married. Susan came along shortly thereafter ... and George came two years after Susan. Steve was seven years later ... and then William Charles (aka: Charlie or "Little Guy") arrived five years after Steve.

We learned that Papa's Mother absolutely loved babies. If she were still here today, she would be in heaven having our triplets to play with. When Susan was born, we learned that there were hurt feelings when Papa's Mother stepped in to do things "her way" and Jeanne protested. (That doesn't sound familiar. Not at all.)

We learned that Papa and Jeanne's decision to move to Santa Barbara was because after having lived in Canada, Illinois and Ohio ... they were sick of shoveling snow. We also learned that Papa loves real maple syrup ... and was dismayed to hear his son won't touch the stuff.

We talked about how devastating it was for him to lose Jeanne, after 40-years of marriage. When she died in 1992, at 62-years of age from a brain tumor ... he felt completely alone. We talked about how after losing a loved one - life goes on. Whether we want it to, or not.

We talked about Papa's wife, Kathleen. He told us that Kathleen has brought him a tremendous amount of love and happiness and they have a very good life together, in Arizona. We learned that Papa and Kathleen are active in the Buddhist Sangha and that Papa has learned to meditate. It turns out meditation is important for him to stay grounded with the work he does on the Board of Directors for the local hospital ... and during the five games of golf he plays each and every week. In the Arizona heat.

We saw first hand that retirement hasn't slowed Papa down, at all.

We thanked Papa again, for the incredible generosity he showed to Charlie and I when we were first married. He and Kathleen had picked out a house for us in San Diego - and paid for our first year's rent - so we would have a place to live while in Graduate school. We will never forget their kindness ... and only hope that we are able to extend the same support to our children one day.

During our visit with Papa, we ate popcorn. We drank lots of good wine. We savored the filet mignon steaks that Charlie barbequed for us last night. We finished the evening with hotfudge brownie sundaes, on our back patio beneath a cloudy sky - that drizzled warm raindrops on us.

I have respect for Papa. He is a gentle soul and a kind-hearted man. He is a bona fide gentleman with a lot of class. Much like his son.

Seeing Papa genuinely happy ... made us genuinely happy.

Next time you come visit Papa ... please bring Kathleen. And remember to bring your shoes without laces. In the meantime ... set the record straight and let us know what you would like to be called.

an amazing trip trick: eating out with small children

Feeding toddlers while out and about.

Easy, right?

Well – it is easy … if you have the right gear.

These are a few items that have worked GREAT for us while we are on the run:

Snacktrap: This little contraption is brilliant. Not only does it keep a hungry toddler at bay for minutes on end (that’s an eternity in my world) … but it also keeps snacks from getting all over the place. The little cup has a rubber stopper on top that “theoretically” allows the child to remove one snack item (i.e. goldfish or animal cracker) at a time. Whenever our kids see their Snacktraps – they break in to joyful “yeeee!!!”. When I’m out and about … I offer the kids their Snacktraps just as they are starting to get fussy, and I can be guaranteed another 15-20 minutes of (relative) peace. The only complaint I’ve heard about the Snacktrap is that kids figure out how to remove the lids. To date - that hasn't been a problem for us, which means that tomorrow it probably will be. You can pick up these gizmos at Babies R’ Us, or at the link provided above.

Spork … or is it Forpoon? Either way … we love these “re-use or lose” plastic spoons and forks from The First Years. We’ve been offering the babies utensils to hold during meal time, ever since they were old enough to hold items in their hands. We have found that giving a baby a spoon makes meal time a whole lot more enjoyable for EVERYONE involved. However – we’ve realized that scooping watermelon, cantaloupe or macaroni and cheese up on a spoon isn’t the easiest thing to do … especially if you are 21-months old. These little plastic sporks (rounded fork) allow the babies to jab their food …yet are they are much easier to use than spoons. What's nice is that the fork isn’t too sharp that you’d need to worry about babies hurting themselves.

Or you.

Or a sibling.

Or the dog.

Disposable placemats. I’ve posted about these nifty things a few times in the past. Disposable placemats have transformed our dining out experience. You just peel back the plastic strips on either end of the placemat, stick to the table, and presto. When you're finished with your meal - wrap up the food and throw them away.

The ONE drawback is that everytime sometimes the kids will try to peel the placemat off (as William is expertly demonstrating in the photo to the left), so I will wrap the bottom of the placemat beneath the table. You could also use some duct tape to secure down the edges. 

Most restaurant tables are positively disgusting – even after you wipe them down – so these work really well to reduce the plethora of germs your kids would otherwise be exposed to when dining out. If your child isn't yet at an age where they understand the concept of keeping a bowl ON the table ... these are great. You can them up at Target, Walmart or your local grocer.

Snacktrap. 

Spork. 

Disposable Placemats. 

These items are a must-have in our diaper bag at any and all times when there are self-feeding infants and small toddlers in tow.

Also, a roll of duct tape - which is especially necessary if the restaurant doesn't have booster chairs or similar devices to keep your child stationed at the table.  

Oh, but I kid. 

Do-It-Yourself! (Bath Night)

Tonight Charlie was busy constructing a lattice cube that we intend to put around our air conditioning unit. The reason he had undertaken this manly multiple-tool-involved task is because I am scared silly that one of our children will stick their curious little fingers – or object – in to said air conditioning unit and we will have a major injury on our hands.

Considering a large part of my "other" job involves analyzing situations and assessing the potential safety risks of what could go wrong ... babies and a steel air condition blade, positioned 30-inches above grade (i.e. at their eye level) and spinning at 4000 RPM - no surprise, raised a flag. A BIG HUGE FLAG.

It was prudent that this lattice structure be constructed as soon as possible since I 've been losing days off my life every time the babies step foot outside while the air conditioning is running. Couple that with the fact everyone is a sweaty mess whenever we turn the air conditioning off and the temperature in the house quickly climbs to 150 degrees.

Something had to be done. Quickly.

Because I didn't want to interrupt Charlie as he was completing this important task, I took it entirely upon myself to simultaneoulsy bathe the babies … by myself.

Now for all those other triplet mother’s out there that bathe all three of their babies simultaneously, by themselves … and are wondering “What’s the big deal?” … kudos to you. I am not one of “those” mother’s. Ever since we've started bathing all three babies at the same time (without their bath rings), bath time has evolved in to a two-person job around these parts.

But since there might be a handful of people out there who wonder how in the world to bathe 3 21-month old children by yourself … I have condensed the process in to 50-easy steps.

1) Get all the items that you will need before going in to the bathroom. Towel, diapers, clean pajamas, baby soap, baby lotion.

2) Chase all the babies in to the bathroom.

3) Close the door if you have a door. If not, put up a baby gate to keep everyone in one area.

4) Undress one baby at a time. Realize that you need to remember to add “baby wipes” to Step #1 … in the off chance that you have a poopy diaper that was not detected before Step #2.

5) While one partially clad baby and two siblings run around closing themselves in the closet … RUN to the nursery and grab baby wipes.

6) Remove the diaper of the first baby, wipe their little bum, deposit them in the bathtub.

7) Turn the water in the tub on at a slow trickle to keep the baby in the tub occupied.

8) Call out “Come here, come here, come here, come here, come here, come here” before finally chasing down and undressing baby #2.

9) Be glad that you have diaper wipes handy for a second poopy cleanup. (How did I not detect two poopy diapers?!?)

10) Remove the diaper of the second baby, wipe their little bum, deposit them in the bathtub.

11) Call out “Come here, come here, come here, come here, come here, come here” before finally chasing down and undressing baby #3.

12) Remove the diaper of the third baby, be happily surprised that there is no poop to clean up, and deposit them in the tub.

13) Lather up one baby at a time.

14) Recognize that the debris floating around the tub is not ravioli from dinner and most likely baby #3 has finally contributed their fare share of poop.

15) Groan loudly.

16) Drain the tub, entirely, while three soap-covered babies try to stand up and climb out of the tub.

17) Refill the tub with warm water.

18) Rinse off all three babies.

19) Remove the drain from the tub, so it slowly empties of water.

20) Take out the first baby from the tub, towel them off.

21) Give yourself an “attaboy” for knowing how to put a diaper on a baby … while they are standing up.

22) Set the first baby loose to run about the bathroom while you remove the second baby from the tub and towel them off.

23) Give yourself another “attaboy” for knowing how to put a diaper on a baby … while they are standing up.

24) Pluck the first baby off the rim of the tub before they climb back in to join the lone baby in the tub.

25) Set the second baby loose to run about the bathroom while you remove the third baby.

26) With one hand on the third soaking wet baby, pluck the first and second babies off the rim of the tub before they climb back in to the now vacant and devoid of water, tub.

27) Towel off the third baby.

28) Give yourself another “attaboy” for knowing how to put a diaper on a baby … while they are standing up.

29) Now that they are all diapered … set about getting the three babies in their pajamas.

30) Realize that pajamas with snaps along the legs are not a good choice. Slip on pants or a zipper would have been a better decision.

31) Take down the baby gate and chase two babies in to the nursery.

32) Realize that there should be three babies.

33) Go back to the bathroom looking for the third baby.

34) Find third baby hiding in the closet.

35) Go back to the nursery and find no babies.

36) Find other two babies hiding beneath kitchen table.

37) Eating raviolis that were still on the floor.

38) Covered in marinara sauce.

39) Pluck two babies up and deposit them in their cribs.

40) Chase down third baby, who is now sitting on the floor eating ravioli.

41) Covered in marinara sauce.

42) Wash the marinara sauce off all three babies hands and face.

43) Brush their hair.

44) Brush their teeth.

45) Read a bedtime story.

46) Say our evening prayers. Include an extra vigilant prayer that diapers put on while babies were standing up – were put on correctly and don’t spring a leak at 2 AM.

47) Give out hugs and kisses.

48) Say good night.

49) Go to refrigerator. Open beer.

50) Update blog so that the world is informed on the simplicity of bathing toddler triplets. On your own.

See, it's simple.

Any questions?

A Few Little Points to Ponder (II)

Just a few more little points to ponder...

I waited so long to be a mom.

I endured numerous surgeries, shots and days, weeks months of bedrest.

I carried three babies for 31 weeks.

I endured fainting, spontaneous nose bleeds, intense swelling, carpal tunnel, heart burn, PUPPPS, HELLP Syndrome, magnesium sulfate.

I visited my premature infants in the NICU every single day for 6 weeks.

I pumped breastmilk for them, every 2-3 hours, round the clock.

I woke up with them every 2-3 hours for the first 12 weeks that they were home.

I nursed all three of my blessed children from my breasts until my nipples BLED.

I endured clogged ducts, mastitis, and the worst pain imaginable to continue nursing.

There is no doubt about it. I love these children more than life itself.

I absolutely rejoice in seeing their little faces everyday and hearing their little voices.

But.

Now - more than ever ... I feel like I'm about to get washed out to sea whenever they wake up.

Why is it, that if I love these children more than life itself ... nothing makes me happier than when they are asleep?

How come?!

APB: Dobby the House Elf

Last night, I went over to our friend's house to baby sit their 4-year old son and 16-month old daughter, while my girlfriend picked up her husband up at the airport. His flight arrived at 10:00 PM, so I showed up at 9:30, after the kids had already been put to bed.

As soon as I stepped foot in the house, I noticed something.

I noticed that their house was immaculate.

Everything was perfect.

Not a single item was out of place.

All of the kid's toys were neatly organized away - there was no clutter on the counters - no baskets of laundry yet to be folded or washed - and I heard the gentle hum of the dishwasher in the background. Just as my girlfriend was about to leave, she started up her little "Rosie Roomba" robotic vacuum cleaner ... which she informed me, would 'superficially' clean all of the floors ... all by itself, while she was gone.

How 'bout that?

She left, and I made myself comfortable on their couch while my eyes were scanning the family room.

I noticed that they had several floor lamps - not surrounded by immovable objects (mandatory at our house, unless we want the lamps to be pulled over on to wee bitty little heads), a few plants at ground level, and a coffee table. Had it not been for the Leap Frog Learning Table nestled in the corner (with an INTACT purple flip door ... our purple flip door lasted all of about 3 minutes once it was removed from the box before it snapped off), a stranger might not know that children live in this house.

Two and half hours later, my girlfriend and her husband returned from the airport.

My mind was aflutter with questions. The first being - "How in the WORLD do you keep your house so neat?!" She gazed around the room and replied "Oh, heavens. I actually need to clean this place. It's a mess!"

What th...?

She continued.

"Our daughter is such a messy eater. She throws food all over the place. Our son never did that. I've actually seen her pick food up and eat it OFF the floor. It's disgusting!"

I kept my mouth closed that I had seriously considered serving our children's food ON the floor, and saving myself a step during the nightly cleanup.

The rest of my questions seemed redundant (How do you keep your walls so clean?! How do you keep your floor so clean?!), suspecting that I already knew the answers, I said goodbye, and made my way home.

As soon as I stepped foot in the house, I noticed something.

I noticed that our house was a disaster.

Everything was scattered.

Not a single item was in place.

I walked in to the kitchen, looked around and realizing that I was too tired to do anything, went straight to bed. In the four seconds it took me to fall asleep, I was thinking that the state of our house is a really sad situation. Especially since we had two women at our house on Friday, that spent four hours cleaning.

That's right.

Four hours. Cleaning. Our house.

Two women.

Just the day before.

When I woke up this morning, I thought back to my girlfriend's tidy bungaloo and I was motivated to get our house super-clean, too. I was even more motivated to get my cleaning self in gear once I realized that we if by "we" I mean Charlie had forgotten to run the dishwasher the night before. I scrubbed the kitchen, organized the playroom, pulled down all of the items above our cupboards and dusted. When the kids went down for their nap, I moved the refrigerator out and cleaned behind it, too.

I was a super freak cleaning machine. It was almost as if I was hosting a triplet play date ... or something.

Then the kids woke up from their nap and I fed them lunch.

The next thing I know, there is apple sauce on the walls, macaroni and cheese stuck to the chairs, and random fruit being thrown about the kitchen.

From the depths of my mind ... I remembered a phrase I'd once heard. "Trying to clean the house while your children are growing ... is like trying to shovel the sidewalk, while it's still snowing." Even though I live in Southern California - where it never snows - I can appreciate that statement.

It's like a blizzard here. All day. Every day. White out conditions.

If you've ever ready Harry Potter, you are familiar with Dobby the house elf. He is a pint-sized little fellow that cooks and cleans and does everything that you don't want to do. He doesn't take up much space ... and right about now ... I'd give my Animal for him.

We don't need a nanny. We don't need a maid. We don't need a Roomba.

We need a house elf. If nothing else, I suspect he would have reminded me to turn on our dishwasher last night.

(edited to read: there are few things in our world more horrifying, than realizing first thing in the morning that we forgot to run the dishwasher the night before. There are no clean sippy cups. No clean bowls or spoons for the kids breakfast. All of these items have to be washed by hand, usually while the kids run around and chew on their arms.)

Monkey on your back...

A few years ago, Charlie was hospitalized for what everyone thought was a ruptured disk in his back. Fortunately, it turned out to be a severe muscle strain which did not require surgery. Since that time ... he has religiously performed yoga and stretching exercises every morning.

The upside ... Charlie's back is stronger than it's ever been.

The downside ... I don't know how much longer Charlie's back will hold up with 80 pounds of children on it.

The backside ... something I caught a glimpse of when William slid off and trying mightily to stay on, grabbed Charlie's pajama bottoms. I was relieved to see that I'm not the only one afflicted by clothing mishaps.

These photos were taken at 8:30 this morning. Really, it's no wonder we're exhausted by noon.

It's also no wonder I write Odes to Charlie.

"I think they sense fear..."

... those were the first words out of Charlie's mouth this morning, once he'd had his cup of java and became aware of his surroundings.

Elizabeth woke up this morning at 6:15, which is very early by our standards considering we are use to sleeping in until at least 8:00 AM.

What a bunch of lazy sacks.

I brought Elizabeth in to bed, and while she proceeded to crawl all over the two of us... we tried, rather unsuccesfully, to continue sleeping. Why she couldn't sense our intense desire for sleep and just lie her cute little head down with us and close her eyes for another two hours few minutes, is completely beyond me. Rather than laying there peacefully as we were hoping, Elizabeth decided to summon her siblings.

That's right. She summoned them.

If one of our babies is awake and in a different part of the house - and the other two are still sleeping - the one that is awake will emit an ear piercing screech that sends our dog Molly in to a tizzy.

Without fail and usually within a matter of seconds - the other two are fully awake and respond in kind, with an ear piercing screech that sends Charlie and I in to a tizzy.

It's important to note that when the babies are all together in the nursery and one wakes up crying - very rarely does this disturbance have any effect on the other two that are still sleeping. But. If that child is removed from the nursery - the other two are keenly aware of their absence and thus ... the summoning begins.

One of the many things that we've noticed with multiples - is that they have this innate ability to communicate with their womb-mates.

If you've ever seen the movie "Jurassic Park" just picture the raptors, calling one another.

But instead of scaly dinosaurs screeching ... we've got pudgy toddlers.

If your eyes were closed, you'd think for sure you had only mere seconds to live. Raptors and our 21-month old triplets freakishly sound exactly the same.

Because I had a busy day at the office, Charlie was scheduled to be home - alone - with the kids. I could tell he was a little nervous, and rightly so. After having Mom & Jim with us for the past two weeks, we had become accustomed to having a one-to-one ratio with the babies.

Now, Charlie was on his own.

Here he was with a pot of coffee, a dog running around in circles... and three babies who knew that they had their Dad outnumbered.

I'm certain that within a day or two, we'll be back in the game and fully capable of running zone defense with our toddlers.

Funny. They really look harmless enough.

It Takes A Village

My Mom and Jim flew home to South Carolina early this morning.

Although I didn't cry saying good bye to Mom (which I always do), my lack of tears had a lot to do with the hour.

I wasn't completely awake at 4:45 AM ... and saying goodbye seemed like a dream.

After dropping them off at the airport, I drove home, crawled back in to bed and fell asleep for another two hours.

When I woke up again ... it dawned on me that Mom and Jim really were gone.

The house seemed eerily empty.

We brought the babies out of the nursery and they cruised through all of the rooms with their little hands turned up like they were looking for something.

Or someone.

I am from a large family. As the youngest of 7... with 40+ first cousins on my mother's side alone, I was always surrounded by family growing up.

They lived in the same house, same town, same state. At a minimum - our family lived in the same "region" of the country.

Charlie is also from a large family... albeit, not quite as large as my Irish Catholic cavalry.

When I moved to California to go to college, I left behind the majority of my family - who are scattered from Massachusetts to South Carolina.

When Charlie and I were married and moved to Southern California for graduate school, we left behind the majority of his family - who are in Northern California, an 8-hour drive away.

Our time in Southern California was intended to be "temporary".

Once we graduated with our masters ... we would make a move to be closer to family, again.

That was 12 years ago.

Along the way we bought a house ... started our careers ... made friends ... put down roots.

It's always been in the back of our minds that we would like to be closer to family, because we vaguely remember the sensation and security of having relatives nearby.

Whenever we are near family - we are reminded how nice it would be to live close to them. And then time goes by ... and we slowly forget.

Since our babies have come in to our lives - our world has changed a lot. We are in a routine. There is a rhythm to what we do. We don't get out as much as we once did and we are somewhat isolated from the outside world.

But after spending two weeks with my Mom and Jim, we had a taste of what it might be like to live close to family ... what it might be like to be part of a "Village."

Some of the things that we experienced during these past two week include:

Taking down all of the baby gates.

Babies wearing training pants (that'll be a separate post!).

Bright red polish on baby toenails.

Water dripping from the hose for hours on end, every day.

Water on the slide for fast rides.

Drinking ice-cold lemonade from "big" cups.

Enjoying ice cream cones every afternoon.

Rides on the merry-go-round and toy train.

Splashing at Dolphin Beach.

Seeing the love in Mom & Jim's eyes, and hearing their laughter.

Every. Single. Day.

Some of the things that Mom and Jim experienced during the past two weeks include:

Being awoken by a herd of 21-month olds storming in to their bedroom.

Witnessing the demolition of a nursery in less than five minutes.

Seeing spots after riding on the merry-go-round.

Having their eyes, nose and ears constantly poked by thirty curious fingers.

Repeating ~ or hearing ~ at least 100 times a day "No biting. Be gentle!"

Prying eyeglasses and sunglasses out of six chubby hands.

Instant destruction of the daily newspaper whenever left in the wrong spot.

Prying remote controls and telephones out of six chubby hands.

Sharing each item of food and beverage with three little children that insist on touching everything BEFORE consuming.

Waking up to a house full of baby babble and laughter.

Every. Single. Day.

Now that Mom and Jim are gone ... Charlie and I once again, have the full responsibility of taking care of three babies all by ourselves.

Two weeks ago, we had forgotten what it was like to be close to family ... what it felt like to be part of a "Village." Now, we've been reminded.

After having a taste of what living near family would be like, suddenly, being the parents of toddler triplets seems like a daunting task.

After a mere three hours of them flying home, we all miss Mom and Jim.

That's when the tears started.

That's also when we put all the baby gates back up.

an amazing trip trick: podee feeding system

One of the most staggering dilemmas in raising infant multiples, is how in the world to feed all three at once???

In the early days, I would nurse, then pump, then feed one of the babies with expressed milk in a bottle - while nursing the other two. This worked pretty well ... but, I found that I was constantly on the couch with a baby (or two) attached to me. Slowly, I began feeding the babies with bottles during the day, and nursing them in the evening and early morning. Once I made the transition to feeding all three of them with a bottle, I struggled with how to get all three of them fed at once.

Enter ... Podee Bottle.

(Imagine the clouds parting and a ray of sun shining on my weary face).

Podee Anatomy: The Podee is comprised of two tubes, separated by a disk, that are attached to a nipple and screwed on to a bottle. When a baby sucks on the nipple, milk goes up the tubing and in to their mouth. This allows for completely hands-free feeding, which is especially helpful when you have more babies than you do hands. And ... they are all hungry!

Podee Dynamics: I've heard some people say "I tried the Podee and it didn't work."

I always respond "Huh?"

So long as your baby has mastered the suck, swallow, breathe reflex (for our babies that wasn't well developed until they were a couple months old), a baby can use the Podee. People will say that they see the milk going "back down the tube" and assume it doesn't work. Here's my best attempt at explaining fluid mechanics:

There has to be a constant vacuum on the nipple to keep the tube entirely filled with milk. The fact is, babies aren't always sucking. They are swallowing and breathing. So, during those times when they swallow & breathe, the milk appears to be going back down the tube. When they do suck, they fill up the "reservoir" of the nipple - so there is always milk for them to swallow, when they suck again. If you ever wonder if they are really getting anything, just keep your eye on the volume, and you'll notice it's going down. If the volume isn't going down, there could be a problem with the nipple***. Read on ...

Other Podee Tips: You don't need to buy the "Podee" bottles. All you really need are the disks (or discs) that screw in to the collars - the straws (the short one that goes in the bottle, and the long one that goes to the nipple) and the disks (there are 2 disks per "feeding system" ... on screws on to the nipple part, and holds the long hose to the nipple - the other screws on to the bottle part - connecting the long hose to the short hose).

The cheapest route to go here - is to buy regular Gerber (Playtex) Bottles (9 oz) and just use the collars with the Podee disks and tubes. You'll need 2 collars PER bottle, though - so what I did is purchase the collars separately (directly from Podee). ***We used the hospital issued nipples rather than the Podee nipples. We found that these worked better. You just have to be sure they have a completely flat bottom (no ridges) to keep a good seal with the disk.

The Podees took some time to clean, but like everything else, we had a system in place. I had about 30 Podees. I used 12 Podees a day (3 bottles x 4 feedings a day) so I did not have to wash bottles every single day. The tubings were rinsed after each feeding (to remove gross contamination) and stockpiled in a cup. I would then clean all of the dirty tubes once every 2 or 3 days and reassemble the tubes, disks, and nipples, so I could just grab a Podee, attach it to a bottle and GO! GO! GO!

Podee Summary: This single invention simplified our life with infant triplets - more than I could have ever possibly imagined. Not only could we feed all three babies at once (which became increasingly important the older they became and would not tolerate waiting to be fed), I could prepare the rest of their meal while they had their bottle, and because they were fed while sitting upright, they had less incidence of gas and spit-up. Additionally, I could clip their nails while they'd eat, and I could easily feed the babies at home OR while on the go. 

Oh, Podee Bottle. How I love thee!

Denial runs through it ...

“The days are long ... but the years are short.”

I’ve heard this phrase a lot in my life, but I never really understood what it meant. Now I do.

While on my business trip, one of my co-workers asked me how old the triplets were. I’m not sure why it surprised and pained me to say out loud “They are 21-months. My babies will be two, in less than three months.” But right after these words left my mouth, I felt the urge to cry. Sob. Bawl.

More than anything, I wanted to figure out a way to stop time … right now.

My co-worker smiled and said “They’re not babies anymore. They’re toddlers.” I would have decked him – had that “co-worker” not been my boss. So, I responded “Yes. They are toddlers. But so long as they are wearing diapers and sleeping in a crib … they are BABIES to me, and that’s how I’ll refer to them. And you will too, if you know what’s good for you.”

My boss told me that I was in denial my babies were growing up.

This morning over breakfast, as I was talking to mom about plans for Charlie’s 40th birthday celebration in November, mom said to me, “It’s hard to believe that you are going to be 40 in six years.” I had to sit and do the math for a moment, but I replied “Mom, I’ll be 40 in five years.” She looked at me in surprise and said “Are you sure?! I could have sworn you were 34.” To which I responded "Yes. I'm 35 ... but I could have sworn I was 24!"

Jim laughed at the two of us and said “I think you’re both in denial.”

Mom still refers to me as “The baby.” This use to annoy me, but it doesn’t anymore. In mom’s eyes, I will always be her baby.

In my eyes, my children will always be my babies. I'm going to refer to them as babies until they are old enough to protest. Until then, nobody better criticize me for it.

As for denial … I think that’s a river in Africa.

Flying solo ... of a different nature

The homecoming Friday was even better than I imagined.

Mom, Charlie and Jim brought the kids in for a haircut - professional this time - on Thursday ... so I was greeted by three, well trimmed children at the airport. They were absolutely adorable and the looks of recognition, shock, and elation at seeing me again were awesome.

I love being a mom. Have I mentioned that before???

The plane ride home was thankfully, uneventful. I did find a new book at the bookstore, but since I haven't finished reading it... am not yet prepared to give my "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" recommendation. The change in pace from a story about the suffering in Afghanistan ... to a story about a guy who gives up all of his worldy possessions and moves from Washington, D.C. to the South Pacific and enjoys "Getting Stoned with the Savages" is pretty drastic.

With my new book in hand, and a loose grip on the fear that attacks my mind every time I step foot on a plane, I tried to savor this "peaceful" experience of flying by myself. Considering the last six times I've flown, it's been with Charlie AND the babies - this most recent trip really was a breeze. I've decided that the term "Flying Solo" can represent one of two descriptions in our vocabulary:

The first is characterized by being extremely stressful.

The second is characterized by being extremely stress-free.

In this particular instance, the description for "Flying Solo" is best matched by the latter of the two descriptions above. Traveling cross-country with three babies is a lot of work. Traveling by yourself, is a piece of cake.

Because I believe it is important to "paint" a clear picture of our travels with triplets - here's a sampling of what we are up against:

- Charlie and I can't sit together with the kids. Because of restrictions due to the number of airmasks, you can only have four people in one row (there are usually four airmasks in a row with three seats - so that allows one person per seat and one lap child). The first couple of times we've flown, we only purchased three seats. Charlie would hold one baby on one row, I'd hold one baby and the third would be in a carseat. We figured out that this was really tricky because if we needed to get up to use the restroom - we would have to either carry the baby with us - or - leave one person behind with all three kids. The last time we flew - we purchased four seats. One of us held a baby, the other two babies were in carseats. That left one of us "free" so that if necessary - they could hold the "lap child" if the other one of us had to use the restroom. Usually, Charlie and I are on opposites sides of the plane ... or, one or two rows in front or behind each other.

- The clothes, bottles, diapers and baby food that you pack, should be enough to last at least two days. You can always buy more "supplies" when you arrive at your destination ... but you never want to be in need of critical items ... should your flight be canceled during a connection. We came close to this happening. Not once, but twice.

- Toting along carseats, pack-n-plays, strollers and booster chairs, in addition to all of the stuff that you must bring on the plane (typically three carry-on bags). Unless you can rent or borrow these items - you need to bring them with you. We've had to bring ALL of our supplies on two of our three trips. We look like a band of gypsies meandering through the airport with baby gear hanging off our strollers.

- Remembering to pack a change of clothes not just for the babies ... but for us, too. A good friend had her baby throw up all over her, the first 20 minutes into a 6-hour flight. Although she had a change of clothes for Junior, she didn't have a clean shirt for herself. Nice, huh?

- Bringing enough food and toys on board, so that you can keep the children happily entertained for as long as possible. By the time we deplaned our last trip, there was the equivalent to a full box of Cheerios beneath the two rows where Charlie and I were seated. The babies consumed about 4 Cheerios, each. The rest wound up on the floor. Each time someone would walk past you'd hear "CRUNCH! CRUNCH!" The toys should be tethered to the carseats because every single time we gave the baby a toy to play with - within seconds they were trying to throw that toy at the person's head sitting in front of us.

- Even with "pre-boarding" we are always the last to get on the plane. Here's why ... Charlie will run on to the plane with two carseats that he must install. This takes about 3-4 minutes per carseat. Usually by the time he gets off the plane to help me get on with the kids, general boarding has started. So, Charlie is like a salmon swimming upstream trying to get OFF the plane while everyone else is getting on. When he finally gets back to me, we walk the babies down to the plane in their strollers, and then I'll hold ALL THREE kids [two in my arms - one in a Bjorn], while Charlie breaks down the strollers to go beneath the plane. Once that's complete, I'll usually carry two babies on board - Charlie carries one baby on board, and we take our seats ... trying to ignore all the looks of "Oh, NO ... those people are on THIS flight?!"

- Our pediatrician recommended that we give our kids Benadryl before flying because it would help with any congestion they may have (which would affect their ears during takeoff/landing) but Benadryl has the added bonus of making the "recipient" sleepy. However, it's good to test run Benadryl BEFORE giving it to them on a full flight. In 97% of the studies, Benadryl DOES make the child drowsy. The 3% of the time Benadryl doesn't work would have been with our 1, 2, 3 kids. What are the odds of that?! The best analogy for the kind of effect Benadyl had our children ... is imagine holding a wild cat in a bag, on your lap.

For six hours.

Bottomline ... it's a lot easier "Flying Solo" than with three small children.

When I landed in San Diego, it took some time for my luggage to come out on the carousel. Typically I prefer to carry my luggage on board (especially if my trip is only for a few days) but because I couldn't bring my 10.5-inch knitting needles on board the plane - I had to check my suitcase. So as I'm standing there waiting for my luggage to come out, I happened to notice a family collecting their luggage on the next carousel.

Whenever I see a family with small children - they always attract my attention. This family was comprised of a young looking mother and father (early 20's) and a chubby legged baby in an umbrella stroller. They were trying to transport all of their luggage on one of those "Smart-Carts" you can rent at the airport for $1.00. Their luggage consisted of four large suitcases, a pack-n-play, a massive military-style backpack/duffle bag and a carseat. While the husband was trying to load everything on the "Smart-Cart" the mother was leading the way out of the airport, pushing the baby stroller.

I stood there watching them and was thinking to myself, Man, they have a lot of stuff. Almost as much stuff as we have when we travel with all three kids!

Just then, one of the big suitcases shifted on the cart and everything, minus the pack-n-play on the bottom, fell to the ground. The father looked completely disheveled. I could see myself in him - as he struggled to pick up all the items from the ground and load them back on the cart, without drawing too much attention from the 150+ people gathered around waiting for their luggage.

When I noticed that everyone standing around this guy just looked at him and said "Oh, you've got a handful!" but didn't do anything to help out ... I looked back at the carousel and deciding that with a few minutes to spare before my luggage made an appearance, I might be able to lend a hand.

Just as I expected, the guy greeted my request to help push his cart with "Oh no! Thanks so much - but we're fine." I stood back looking at him, and the carseat that was ready to fall off the cart a second time (and then DID fall off the cart) and I said, "No, really. I insist. I've been in your position and it's no fun. Let me help you. You're just going outside, right?"

It turns out, this guy and his wife and baby - who had just turned one, had moved to California from Chicago. He is a Marine and recently returned from a deployment to Kuwait. He was now stationed in San Diego. He thought the military was suppose to send a shuttle for him, but he wasn't sure what, when, how or who was suppose to be here to pick him up.

I pushed his cart upstairs while his wife followed with the stroller, and he struggled beneath the weight of his 80+ pound military-issue back pack while dragging rolling a suitcase, with two defunct wheels, behind him.

As it was happening, it dawned on me that I took charge of the situation. I just felt so much compassion for this young family. I could tell that they were exhausted from a long day of traveling, it was excruciatingly hot, they had a fussy baby, and here they were in an unfamiliar city with no idea how to get to their new home.

First we came across taxis. They wanted to charge $100.00 to take them to the Marine base. I could tell that money was something they didn't have a lot of ... so ... I told the taxi driver "No thanks, we'll try the shuttles instead." I then led the family over to the shuttles where I asked what kind of military discount they would offer. Better than a military discount - they told me that the USO would transport this family, free of charge, to the base.

The drawback was that the USO pick-up was at Terminal 2. We were at Terminal 1. The distance separating the two locations was about 1/2-mile and it was blazing hot.

The husband was really apologetic, "I'm so sorry ... you've been such a huge help. Really, we've got it from here." By this point, his suitcase had lost one of it's wheels and he was dripping in sweat. I could tell that he was just trying to be polite, so I laughed at him, banged a U-turn with the "Smart-Cart" and yelled "HOOYA!!! Come on, We'll be there in 10 minutes."

We huffed and puffed through the heat to Terminal 2, but the USO was like an oasis in the desert. We walked in to a dimly lit, air conditioned room that was stocked to the brink with juice, bagels, donuts and fresh fruit. The young family were finally where they needed to be and there was lots of good food for them to enjoy. Mission accomplished.

I bid my farewell - told the guy he needed to "Stay safe!" and then trotted back to Terminal 1. By the time I returned, my luggage was sitting all alone on the carousel and Charlie had just arrived at the curb outside. Perfect timing.

What this story goes to show is that if I hadn't had the experience(s) of traveling with children, I probably wouldn't have extended my support to this family. Chances are, I would have wrongly assumed that they had *it* under control. If I had lent my assistance, I doubt I would have persisted once I'd heard him say "Oh no! Thanks so much - but we're fine."

See, that's what I would have said ... because the last thing I would ever want to do is inconvenience somebody, especially a stranger. But I've learned that even though I'm not "on duty" as a parent ... I doubt I'll ever be able to look at other parents the same way again.

Charlie and I are the members of an elite group. The few. The proud. The parents who travel with children. Our unwritten motto is that we support each other, especially if we are traveling solo and can see that one of our comrades is struggling.

Semper Fi, Hooya!

Read all about it ... New Mexico!

The good news is ... I arrived safely in New Mexico.

The bad news is ... for the plane ride here, they wouldn't let me bring my 10.5-inch metal knitting needles on board. (The nerve of 'em!). That posed a bit of a problem because without having something to occupy my mind while *cruising* at 32,000-feet above the surface of the earth ... I'd be wringing my hands and sweating all over the person next to me, while chanting "I don't want to die. I don't want to die." Rather than have a freak-out session on the plane, I browsed the airport shops looking for something to keep me distracted.

The good news is ... what I found in the airport shop to help keep my mind elsewhere, was probably one of the most awesome books I've ever read. I started this 300+ page novel on Monday morning, and I finished it Monday night. If you haven't yet read "Kite Runner" by Dr. Khaled Hosseini, I highly, highly recommend it. This book was a rare find. It held a story that I couldn't stop reading once I started ... and once finished - haven't been able to stop thinking about, since.

The bad news is ... I have to fly, again, tomorrow. And I don't have a good book to read.

But here's some more good news: Ever since I've been on the ground, this has been a wonderfully, relaxing trip. New Mexico is a beautiful place. My team meeting is in Santa Fe, the oldest capital city in the United States. Santa Fe, founded in 1598, is located at an elevation of about 7,000-feet, in the high desert foothills of the Rocky Mountains. The oldest church in America, San Miguel Chapel, which was built in 1610, is located in downtown Santa Fe. There is a very large Catholic population in the region and I've never in my life seen so many crucifixes with Jesus. Never. Ever.

Green vegetation, bright blue skies, and red sandstone are all that meets the eye when you look around. (And crucifixes with Jesus.) The architecture is southwestern Spanish and the food is muy bueno, caliente!

What I really love about this part of the country is the art. There are artists, everywhere. The local Indians (Native Americans? I'm sorry - I have no idea what's the PC term, here) sell their handcrafted silver and turquoise jewelry, weaving, pottery and paintings at various shops in the area. Add to the beautiful visual aspect of New Mexico, there are an abundance of aspiring musicians. Every night this week, there has been a different band playing in the town square. It's quite a sight to see the large crowds of cowboy hatted townfolk doing the two-step. I almost, almost ... bought the kids matching leather tassled pajamas tonight ... but came to my senses when I realized that they would probably outgrow $90.00 worth of PJ's in less than two months.

So while I've been "working" in Santa Fe ... Charlie, my mom and Jim have been holding down the fort. From what I gather every time I call home and hear laughter resonating through the house, everyone is doing just fine in my absence. They have been eating up a storm, Elizabeth has dodged Roseola, and my mother has everything perfectly under control - during the few hours a day Charlie pops in to the office.

I've learned that the baby gates have come down and the babies, apparently, are wearing only diapers during the day.

Wha...?

Charlie told me that my mom smothers them in sunscreen and then sets them loose running around the backyard.

In. Their. Diapers.

When I first heard this nugget of information, I told Charlie "You've got to be kidding me! What's next?! Is our pickup truck on cinder blocks in the front yard next to our broken down refrigerator, while Molly's chasing 'possums?!"

Since I'm 800-miles away from home and unable to intervene ... I'm pondering the logic to forgo clothing and keep babies in only their diaper during the hot summer months. Like many ideas my well-intentioned and highly experienced mother has implemented proposed with our children ... and which have absolutely appaled me at first ... I'm starting to see the benefit in her line of thought.

Think of the time I could save - if I didn't have to do laundry during the day.

Think of the money I could save - if I didn't have to buy three items of every article of clothing.

I don't need to worry about bibs any more - after eating, they can run through the sprinkler in the back yard and - presto! - clean kids.

To live this carefree and somewhat Appalachian lifestyle ... all I need is diapers.

Some cinder blocks for the truck.

And a flask of moonshine.

I also learned that when my mom went to go check her e-mail, the keyboard was defunct. Flipping it over to verify it was plugged in properly, she was greeted by a trickle of tea.

Yeah. That'd have to be my fault. After four days away, the keyboard hasn't dried out the way I'd hoped it would.

I'm thankful once again, for my mom and Jim who dropped everything to come out and help with the kids. I hope that they've had as good of a time - as I know the babies have.

Running around the yard.

In their diapers.

Isn't this the stuff memories are made of?

I can unabashedly say, the break has been nice. There's a certain peace that comes when you don't have to worry about three children that might do something to endanger their life, their siblings life, the dogs life, and/or make an absolute mess at your feet.

As much as I've enjoyed the tranquility of a week nestled in the mountains of Santa Fe, I'm excited to get home and see everybody. Especially when I heard that the kids are now "kissing" on demand. Charlie told me that asking for, and receiving, a kiss on the cheek from Carolyn has been the highlight of his entire week. The guacamole was great; the sights were spectacular; the music was heavenly; the churches were magical. But arriving safely on the ground tomorrow, and being greeted by my family ... that will most definitely, be the highlight of my week.

Now let's just hope I can find another good book at the airport gift shop ...

Date Night with ack

I wasn't kidding when I wrote that I was dragged out of the house for date night, last night.

I also wasn't kidding when I wrote that I would have rather stayed home - 20 feet from my sleeping children, while sipping a glass of wine and updating my blog.

Kinda like what I'm doing right now. But, instead of sipping wine, I'm sipping tea. Because it's Sunday night and I have a plane to catch early tomorrow morning.

When family come to visit, they want nothing more than to babysit so that we can have a much needed "break." So since we have family in town... I felt compelled to participate in the obligatory date night.

Charlie's all for date night. But me... not so much.

I don't know what my hang-up is. I suppose that since motherhood, I've turned in to a recluse who is scared senseless something is going to happen to the two of us, while we are out "painting the town" and we'll leave behind three orphans that rejoices in the simple pleasure of being home.

Besides, I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving before the kids were securely in bed. Tasking someone who just arrived on the *scene* with the full responsibility of feeding, washing and getting three toddlers dressed and corralled in to their cribs is not an easy task. It's not that I don't trust my mother could handle this responsibility... I'm certain she could. But, it's a lot of work and I'm a control freak when it comes to our babies .

Bottomline, once the kids are in their cribs, I'm totally zonked and have barely enough energy to lay on the floor and watch the ceiling fan go 'round and 'round. The last thing I want to do is get all fancy and go out on a date. This attitude is both pathetic and probably terribly unhealthy in a marital way. This attitude might eventually land me in counseling.

"Why don't you want to go out on a date with your husband?"

"Because after a full day with my incredible kids, I'd much prefer to lay on the floor and watch the ceiling fan go 'round and 'round than spend a bunch of money on a dinner that we could prepare better than a restaurant - and spend another $25.00 dollars on a movie that we could rent for $3.00 in two months. Is that wrong? Are you telling me there's something wrong with that??!"

It was obvious that I was waffling last night. Charlie must have asked me 30 times "So... what do you want to do tonight?" And I'd respond "I dunno. Whadda you wanna do?"

To which he'd honestly reply "I'd like to go out for a nice dinner and then go see a movie." And to which I'd respond "Oh. I dunno."

As the kids bed time drew closer - I could tell Charlie was getting a little impatient and he wasn't going to let this opportunity of free babysitting, by a more than capable adult, pass him by.

"JEN. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO TONIGHT? WE ARE GOING OUT."

Ignoring the situation didn't help.

The next thing I know, the kids are in bed - Charlie is showered and dressed - and glowering at me. So, I begrudgingly put on some earrings freshened up and was dragged out the front door. We then sat in our car, in the driveway, for several more minutes while Charlie asked yet again "What do you want to do?"

I finally came clean. "I'd like to go in the house, sip wine and update my blog. But at the risk of having my suggestion shot down - I'll leave it up to you."

We decided that at that point, it was too late to go have dinner AND see a movie, so we drove over to a local sushi bar. In all honesty, we didn't know where we were going until the car just arrived in the parking lot of this establishment and we looked at each other and said "I guess this'll do."

I'm not a huge raw fish fan, but if it's served with enough sake rice and soy sauce I can tolerate it. In small quantities.

As we sat down at the bar, Charlie pulled out a menu and started ordering... something raw fish Hawaiian sounding, and something that I think was called "Rainbow Roll" which means it was a rainbow of raw fish. He also ordered a few egg rolls, for me. Our egg rolls no sooner arrived than a guy comes walking in to the restaurant, through the kitchen (which was behind the sushi bar) carrying a big, clear plastic bag. In that big, clear plastic bag was a fish.

A big, dead, intact fish.

He flopped the bag down on the counter, 16-inches from my plate and the pleasant little egg roll - tore open the bag - and rolled the big, dead, intact fish out on the counter.

Sixteen.Inches.From.My.Plate.

Just then, a hugely excited sushi chef came over wielding a monster sized knife and cut out the fish's guts with one hand while his other hand had a secure grip on the fish's head, poking out it's eyeballs with his fingers, he then proceeded to chop off it's head and tail (after a horrible POPPING sound when the backbone broke), slice away the skin and dice it in to a hundred small pieces filleted this huge fish, on the spot.

Charlie laughed and said "Wow! Look at this, dinner and a show!" While I looked around for our waitress and mumbled "Could I have some more sake please and a bucket in which to vomit?! Make it quick!!"

The guy that had brought the fish in to the restaurant, than came around the other side of the sushi bar and sat in the chair next to Charlie. As he sat there sipping his beer, we learned a lot about our new dinner companion. It turns out this guy's name is "Jack". He is a chemist involved in the pharmaceutical industry developing medication for cancer research. More specifically, prostrate cancer research. He just returned from a 11-day trip to the Bahamas on Wednesday and left Thursday morning for a 2-day fishing trip to Mexico. The dead fish on the counter being hacked up (a 20-pound yellowtail, it turns out), was one of the 30+ fish that he'd caught. His wedding anniversary was on Friday, he has two daughters and a ski boat he rarely uses. (The only reason he was able to miss his anniversary and go on the fishing trip, was because he had just returned from the 11-day trip with his wife to the Bahamas. Believe you me, that was the first question I asked.)

While we sat there chatting it up with Jack, the sushi chef whipped out seared yellow tail steaks; yellow tail sushi rolls; and yellow tail ceviche ... all of which Jack generously shared with Charlie and I.

For me, the not-so-nuts-over-raw-fish kind of person that I am ... this stuff tasted pretty darn good. Especially once my stomach calmed down after watching the fish that I was eating, being diced up before my very eyes.

Question: What did this experience teach me?

Answer: SAKE IS MAGIC.

The next question I asked (after how in the world his wife let him miss their 19-year wedding anniversary), was if he received any kind of discount for bringing his own fish to a sushi restaurant.

As it turns out, Jack has a pretty good relationship with this restaurant and brings them a boat load (no pun intended) of fish after each of his monthly fishing adventures. It sounds like a good bargain. He brings them fresh fish, they fillet it and feed him dinner... and load him up with as much beer as he wants.

I believe that this was the second - maybe third - obligatory date night Charlie and I have had since the babies were born. All of the date nights have been similar in their obligatory nature (family is in town and they were able to convince us to go out for an evening), but none of the previous date nights will be quite as memorable as this one.

I can update my blog and sip wine any old time. But how often does my mom get to stay home with our three sleeping children, watch the Princess Bride with her 82-year old fiance (Jim corrected me... he is 82, not 83), while Charlie and I sip sake with our new friend, ack the fisherman and dine on a freshly caught yellow-tail. I surprised myself - and Charlie even moreso, by having a fun time. I even made the promise that we need to do this again... soon. (At least next time family is in town. I'm definitely not ready to trust our precious children to someone who isn't my mother. Or sister.)

Our new friend's name isn't ack. But, unfortunately, I ust spilled the maority of tea on our keyboard as I was about to type his name, and the title to this post. Now my "insert missing letter here" is completely shot. It's only appropriate I lost that letter, considering I made an "ACK!" sound when I saw what was happening to the fish.

Hopefully, my keyboard will dry out during my 5-day business trip because I might not have the opportunity to update our blog with my laptop while I am away. These meetings can be quite busy.

Doesn't it figure, though. I had a really good oke to tell about umping aquars.

Rosie, Rosie, Roseola

It dawned on me recently that if I were to write about all the exciting things that happen in my life... I would spend the majority of each and every day at the computer updating my blog.

I'm sure Charlie would be over-the-moon THRILLED if I were to do that.

(There is no sarcasm in that statement. Really.)

The fact is, I have more "material" to draw from - than I could ever possibly write about. Sometimes, the reason I don't update my blog for several days on end, is not because I don't have anything good to write about, but rather, it's because I am indecisive and completely torn regarding what I should be spending my time writing about.

"Hmmm. Should I tackle our first 2006 experience taking the babies to a swimming pool... or ought I recap how I took all three of them to the mall shopping for new shoes? Both are great stories ... but maybe I ought to spend some time writing about the way our kids insist on putting every single object on top of their head and pretending it's a hat, or how I often overhear Charlie singing songs from the Wiggles and he's currently learning how to play "My Big Red Car" on his guitar."

(If Murray ever leaves the band - Charlie would be a great fit.)

Part of the challenge in updating my blog is sifting through all of our amazing experiences and deciphering what is "mindless" enough for me to condense in to a somewhat readable story. 'Cuz at the end of a long day... I really don't have much brain power left. Especially after a bottle of wine .

Until such time that I give up all of my other responsibilities in life and write all the time ... here is an interesting tidbit of my weekend, thus far:

(Was that a lame attempt at incorporating pictures of the kids wearing their sand pails on their heads? Probably... but aren't they adorable?!)

The mystery of Carolyn's fussy behavior last week... has been solved. I had suspected all of her crankiness could possibly, in a theoretical crap shoot way, be attributed to teething, but I wasn't entirely convinced.

The problem with me blaming her fussy behavior on "teething" is that the logic flies in the face of everything I believe and hold true, when it comes to the diagnosis of fussy behavior in babies. Honestly, so many times "teething" is blamed for a child's fussy demeanor when it really has nothing to do with it, at all.

"The baby won't sleep. Why, it must be teething!"

"The baby is crying a blue streak. Why, it must be teething!"

"The baby won't eat at all. Why, it must be teething!"

I'm not a professional by any means... but after LIVING through the whole "teething" experience with three babies simultaneously, it's my opinion that teething has gotten the short end of the stick.

"Teething" has become the infamous "fussy baby scape goat"... and it just ain't right. Whenever I hear someone try to blame their babies extremely fussy behavior on teething - I know in my heart of hearts it's bogus. Yet, this recent bout of fussiness proves that I'm guilty of it, too. Sometimes it can be SO difficult to figure out why a baby is cranky.

Quite honestly, when I witness our babies in their absolute worst of worst fussy times... it's because they are overtired. To date, I have yet to experience fussy behavior that I can legitimately blame on teething.

Anyway. My apologies on blaming Carolyn's hypersensitive behavior to teething last week.

After several days of extreme fussiness... Carolyn broke out from head-to-toe in a rash. That's when I realized that my blaming her fussiness on teething - was completely misplaced. Even though she is in the midst of cutting her molars... the fussy behavior had nothing to do with her teeth and everything to do with a viral infection.

As soon as the rash appeared, she was right as rain. Perfectly happy, smiling - content as could be. Just like the little Gracie we know and love.

The timing on Carolyn's recovery couldn't have been more perfect, because the very next day... William started becoming more and more hypersensitive, with each passing hour. Rather than blaming his fussiness on teething, I suspected that what had ailed Carolyn last week, found it's newest victim.

What I've learned in the course of this past week, is that boys don't handle illness as well as girls do. Whereas Carolyn appreciated being held while she was feeling "off" ... William absolutely insisted on it. And, the only person that could hold him - is yours truly. If anyone so much as looked at him, he would collapse in to tears.

The poor little guy ... it really broke my heart to see him feeling so cruddy.

But sure enough - today, William is starting to break out in a rash and his fussy behavior is subsiding ... as is is our stash of popsicles and Children's Tylenol. (Incidentally, these are the only two things he has consumed in the past three days.)

I'm assuming that what the kids have is Roseola. It makes sense based on everything I've read. I called the pediatrician's office late yesterday afternoon and after talking with the on-call doctor... decided that a visit was not warranted.

My decision to not go see the doctor had nothing to do with the fact that I'd have to go to the after-hours office, which guarantees a minimum three hour commitment. (Again, no sarcasm there.)

A three hour commitment - on a Friday afternoon - which just so happened to be my mom's 73rd birthday and a party was planned for the early evening. The first question that came to my mind is "What would be gained from this after-hours-minimum-three-hour-visit?"

Probably the advice to keep up the popsicles and Children's Tylenol. And a bill for $75.00.

The doctor laughed when I told her that I'm going to skip the visit and take my chances at home. She then flattered me with the statement that with toddler triplets, I obviously have a big dose of common sense. Otherwise, I'd probably be at the doctor's office once a week.

A big dose of common sense?? Me?! I wouldn't go that far...

How many people would think that putting three babies on safety harnesses for a walk around the block, BY YOURSELF, would be a good idea?? And then, less than a month later... try it again... at a department store??

See, I have too much material to write about. If my memory serves me correctly, I don't think I updated the blog about that adventure.

The fact is, with family in town, I have lots of material to write about. My next posting will have something to do with the "date night" that Charlie and I went on tonight.

How I was literally dragged/shoved out the front door, because if given the option of a fancy dinner out on the town, or staying home ... I would have much rather preferred remaining within 20 feet of my sleeping children, sipping a glass of wine and updating my blog.

I might just be a loser, afterall. With a dash of common sense... and a really clean carpet.

(Now, I'm just hoping that this Roseola skips over Elizabeth ... or if she does get it (highly likely), it is a much more mild case. I'd hate for her to be feeling bad during the time I'm away. After experiencing what William has been like the past two days ... I suspect everyone is praying that any and all illnesses remain at bay until I return.)

Many Hands Make Light Work ...

... unless those hands belong to 20-month old children. In which case, many hands make a lot more work.

Just ask my mother.

She arrived in town today from South Carolina with her 83-year old fiancé, Jim. They are here for the next two weeks to lend "many hands" (of the adult variety) while I am at a business meeting in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Yes, I'm going.

Yes, I'm a nervous wreck.

No, I haven't finished my Will - even though I said I would, before I go. There are a lot of things I've said I'd like to do that I just haven't done, yet. (Wait. No, that's the only thing that comes to mind.)

I do plan to knit while I am flying. I've finished two blankets, and am halfway through my third. Hopefully, this will help to keep my mind off of falling 32,000-feet to an untimely death. (Oh gosh, minor freak out session just thinking of the sensation falling 32,000 feet...)

All that aside, Charlie is most appreciative that we made the decision to call in for reinforcements while I am away. Flying solo for 5 days, 4 nights is down right scary. Almost as scary as falling 32,000 feet...

Mom arrived at about noon today with all of her grandmother "magic" and the babies are absolutely LOVING it. They are enthralled with having two new people in the house to play with, especially two new people who bring lots of new toys. Equally important - Charlie and I are thrilled to have family in town. Even though mom and Jim laid low for most of the day ... having an extra set of "eyes" was such a... welcome relief.

I really don't know how else to say it.

Here's the thing. I could go to the bathroom... do what I needed to do... and know that in the two minutes I was absent, a child (more appropriately, several children) was not going to climb on top of the table - pull out all of our steak knives, throw fruit everywhere, and then fall 4-feet to tile floor, below.

It's so wonderful having family in town... if for no other reason than I am getting caught up on all kinds of great Reader's Digest stories while visiting the commode.

As we tucked the babies in to bed tonight, I felt so much more relaxed than I normally do ... it was an odd sensation. Yet, when I asked my mother what her thoughts were after spending a half day with our brood, she responded, "I'm completely exhausted. It makes me tired just looking at how you do what you do."

Here's a woman who raised seven children ... the first six born in seven years (yes, she was almost continuously pregnant for seven years straight) and she's telling me how tired she is just looking at the energy expelled in the course of 7-mere hours ... while our triplets scaled the furniture, ran circles around the back yard, chased the dog, threw the majority of their dinner on the ground, and were quite simply... toddlers.

She is exhausted looking at us... are you kidding?! If that isn't complete and utter validation for the insanity that has been our lives the past month or so, I don't know what is.

Granted, my mother did the bulk of her child rearing 40+ years ago... but let's not focus on that. Let's just focus on the fact that my mother - the quintessential super mother - told ME that she was impressed how I managed to hold it all together.

Tonight, between Charlie, Jim, Mom and I... we shared a bottle of wine. When I had to go back in to my mother's bedroom (our guest room) to get another bottle of wine out of the closet (aka: wine cellar) she gave me a quizzical look. I tried to explain, without sounding like a complete lush, how most nights, Charlie and I like to share a bottle of wine. And well, since we split the bottle with both she and Jim ... that was really like the two of us only sharing a 1/2 bottle. To which she responded, "I never drank when I had children."

And to which I retorted, "You really should have. And besides that - it would have been great if you were able to keep a blog. Honestly... those two factors, once the babies go to bed, have been my salvation for raising triplets. Wine, typing ... and A LOT of prayer."

I'm so happy that without criticizing our decision to open a second bottle of wine tonight, she smiled and said "It probably would have done me a world of good to have a drink at night once our children went to bed."

As they grow older and move out in to the world, I hope that our children are always as happy to see me ... as I am to see my mom.

Happy Independence Day!

Our country is independent and free - and suddenly, our children are too!!!

There's a little song that we were singing at our house to celebrate the Fourth of July this year. More appropriately, I was singing it. The kids would just dance whenever I'd burst in to tune. The song goes something like this:

"This land is MY land ... this land is MY land ... this toy is MY toy ... your toy's MINE too... and if you touch it - I will hit you - and then I'll bite you on the hand."

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat, another 200 times or so.

If it seems like this song is getting old after a while and you are fighting an urge to pick up a wooden spoon and smack yourself in the head with it, that's perfectly normal.

A 20-month old most definitely doesn't grasp the concept of sharing. And wolf spiders most definitely don't understand that if they continue their mass exodus from the outside world to the inside of our house, they will meet a quick departure from this world courtesy the bottom of my shoe. Needless to say... I've come to doubt my super human powers when it comes to teaching toddlers to share, and teaching scary spiders to stay outside.

The exterminator will be here at 9 AM tomorrow and during the time that we are required to vacate the house ... I am going to go buy every single ball available at Walmart. I'll also be picking up our 18-month 20-month photos ... provided they are ready.

Other than our "sharing challenges" which have been escalating in ferocity the past few days... we had a nice, relaxing weekend.

Kinda sorta.

Uh, no, not really.

I think part of my problem is that I try to plan grandiose things to do... and then feel overwhelmed when we embark on these "grandiose things" and everything goes tipsy turvy because instead of the kids sitting still on a beach blanket and looking at ladybugs ... they are trying to eat the ladybugs and take off running in to tall grass where I just know there is a rattle snake or two, laying in wait.

This morning, we took off for the Annual Fourth of July parade on Coronado Island. This place truly is one of our favorite places in Southern California, and if the average home price wasn't $5 million dollars... we'd move there in a heartbeat. The cost of purchasing a home on Coronado, is purportedly the most expensive place in the country. It's no wonder the cost of living is so high when you see that the Chamber of Commerce "courtesy shuttle" is a $300,000 Ferrari. (Charlie informed me that THIS is the car he wants for his 40th birthday. Let's see ... I've got a little over four months...)

The parade really was a lot of fun. It was absolutely mobbed, but we were able to set up camp on the grassy median of the parade route - and the kids had an exciting time running away from us, taking items out of absolute stranger's coolers, coming extremely close to pulling several bikes over on top of themselves (multiple times), and picking up litter that went directly in to their mouths checking out the sights. They loved the marching bands, horses, and planes that did several fly-by's overhead.

I guess there were marching bands, horses and planes flying overhead. That's what I heard the people around me saying - as I had my eyes constantly darting left and right looking for our children, dressed in red, white and blue. This was no easy task because it turns out the other fifty thousand people lined up along the parade route were also wearing red, white, and blue.

Note to self: neon yellow is a good color for a onesie, and a flashing beacon hat that shoots flares in the air when I call the kids' names could be cute. If I were to INVENT something like this, I might just make the $ needed for Charlie's birthday present. Hmmm...

The parade started at 10 AM, and when we left at noon, it was still in full swing. I've never left a parade early ... but I've also never had the kids up from 7 AM until noon without a nap.

We didn't get home from this outing until 12:30, which wreaked havoc on the kid's sleep schedule. Carolyn caught a cat nap in the stroller on the way back to the car, Elizabeth caught a cat nap on the car ride home, but William who didn't sleep at all - was delirious. He was so tired and cranky, he was actually biting the air.

We fed the kids lunch and then put them down for their nap at 1:45 PM. They slept until 4:30 ... and then we loaded them up ... again ... and headed out to watch fireworks at a local park.

Now, we would have been perfectly fine staying home - but I have these darn expectations I set for myself to always have "fun, fun, FUN!" Poor Charlie, he just goes along for the ride ... knowing perfectly well that our time would be better spent at our house. Watching the Wiggles.

This is kind of how our afternoon went. When we arrived at the park, we did a visual reconnaissance and we identified a few areas we didn't want the kids to go. If I remember correctly, we didn't even say out loud, "The kids can't go over there."

Which leads me to believe that if anyone in our family has super human powers ... it's our children. They are telepathic. Without a doubt.

"Ohhhh ... you DON'T want us to go over here? You mean ... right HERE?!"

Gone, gone, gone are the days that we could put the babies down and they would stay put. As soon as they are out of their strollers - they are off and RUNNING in three different directions. RUNNING. RUNNING. RUNNING.

The only thing that seems to slow them down is a hot barbeque that they would like nothing more than to touch... a stray dog that looks slightly rabid... some child's toy Hummer (of course we don't know them) ... or a road that they will run in to.

If you can think of anything that might be remotely dangerous for a 20-month old toddler to get in to... they'll be in to that, too.

Quite surprisingly, it got very cool at the park. It's been so hot around here, I wasn't expecting the temperature to drop by 25 degrees once the sun went down. Of course I had packed every possible item the babies would need whether it was 100 degrees and blazing sun, or 20 degrees and sideways snow. But we managed to forget sweatshirts for us.

Freezing cold and chasing babies around a dark park laden with hot barbeques, strange dogs, kids swinging baseball bats, and a tall grassy field that is probably full of ticks and snakes. Sounds like a good time, heh?

Once it started to get dark and cool down, I decided to get the kids dressed in their warm pajamas. I finished getting Carolyn ready ... put her off to one side and got to work on Elizabeth, while Charlie held William. I pull off Elizabeth's diaper and she pops up and starts running around. We were in our enclosed tent, so it wasn't like she was going to go too far ... but as I was pulling out her clean PJ's and a new diaper - I notice the small puddle that forms beneath Elizabeth. She then steps squarely in to this puddle while Carolyn crawls over and starts splashing her hands in it.

Oh and by the way ... it wasn't raining.

All that aside - it was a good Fourth of July - in a crazy toddler triplet kind of way. The parade was great. Experiencing fireworks with our babies for the first time was great. And above all, we were reminded how fortunate we are to live in such a great country.

But more and more, Charlie and I are feeling outnumbered and completely BEAT at the end of the day. More and more, Charlie and I are able to polish off an entire bottle of wine when we put the kids to bed at night.

When it dawned on us just how many drinks a week we were consuming in an effort to "unwind", we've decided that for our health, we need to start drinking lemonade instead ... and beat ourselves in the head with a wooden spoon.