The College Tri Try

This past weekend, we took off for an overnight jaunt to Los Angeles so Charlie could compete in the Los Angeles Tri. If you recall, my company had pulled together a relay team and needed a cyclist ... so I nominated my husband. One of my co-workers swam 1-mile, Charlie was responsible for riding 25-miles on a bike borrowed from my boss, and another co-worker ran 6.2 miles. I was suppose to be there to photograph the event, but that was before I realized the race started at 7 AM. Unfortunately, that early hour just didn't work well with my inability to open my eyes before 8 schedule.

Because there was NO way three portable cribs, three booster chairs, a jogging stroller, a Kelty backpack, two suitcases, a cooler, a diaper bag, five people, AND Charlie's bicycle were all going to fit in our van ... we moved the carseats over to the backseat of Charlie's extended cab truck which is equipped with a camper shell - moved the front seats as far forward as they could go without having our faces pressed against the windshield ... loaded all of our gear in to the back of the truck which lacks a fancy navigation system nor any maps of Southern California, and set off for our first road trip in almost a year.

If you think that paragraph was long and disorganized ... you should have seen us trying to get ready with three toddlers underfoot and no baby gates.

Our goal was to get on the road Saturday morning by 10 AM. We left at 11:41 AM. It probably would have helped if I'd packed all of our stuff the night before, because what I realized on Saturday morning - is that as soon as I would put stuff in the suitcase and turn my back to add more items ... the items I had just packed were strewn about the house and yard. It got to the point where I had to put the suitcase next to the closet and stand in it, to hold down the stuff I'd already packed, while figuring out what else needed to go in the bag.

Of course if I'd packed the night before, that would indicate that I am organized and well prepared ... and quite frankly if there is one thing I am not these days, it is organized and well prepared. Infact, each time I think my life bears any resemblance to organized, my children prove to me otherwise.

Charlie had the brilliant suggestion to put the suitcases in the crib which was the only place the kids weren't able to reach stuff and pull it out. Alas, he didn't come up with this suggestion until I was just about finished ... but it's something to keep in mind for the next time. What's funny is that we weren't packing a whole lot of stuff. We were only going out of town for one night. If I did the math right, that's just a little over 24 hours. Yet to see the amount of gear we had and the volume of swim diapers - you'd think we were setting off for the Straight of Gibraltar.

Anyway. We made a pit stop to top the car off with gas ... and another pit stop to buy new sunglasses. I had lost mine the week before and Charlie needed a good pair of athletic shades for his bike ride on Sunday. Apparently there is scientific evidence to prove that the better you look, the faster you go. Two hundred dollars later - Charlie looked really good.

Four hours, rather than the anticipated two hours, and several unplanned detours later (that took us through a large portion of Orange County), we arrived at my boss's house to pickup Charlie's race registration material. We were desperate to stretch our legs after having been cramped in the front of the truck for the past several hours and our kids were desperate to destroy everything in sight "explore".

I've come to the conclusion it's bad enough when our children splash in our own toilet ... it's a tad bit more horrifying when they splash in someone else's. Especially when that someone else is your boss. I'm really learning to go-with-the-flow (aka: riptide) ... which is what saved me from screaming when our kids ambushed his closet and came out holding a pair of underwear.

Ah, yes. That's a memory for the babybook. Thankfully, they didn't put my boss's underwear ON their head, which is usually what they do with their parent's britches.

After an excruciating 26 minutes and 38 seconds ... everyone was kicking and screaming happily loaded back in to their carseats while we continued on to our second destination, the home of our good friends Mark & Lorie.

It's been several years since we've visited Mark and Lorie at their house, so of course we got lost getting there, too. The last time we were at their home - Charlie and I were just about to start our third round of IVF and Lorie was blissfully unaware that she was two weeks pregnant. Since we all went to college together - and are all geologists - we have a lot in common. Our friendship grew that much deeper when their little girl, Shayna, was born two weeks after our triplets.

Since the catastrophe of visiting our friends last week, we were a bit concerned how this weekend was going to go. I'm here to say that God is good and prayer works. If I ever questioned that before, I don't anymore. I have been praying non-stop for this to be a good experience for everyone. I was actually prepared to cancel the whole trip because the last thing I want to do is unleash our trio in to the house of our unsuspecting friends. (Although, Lorie does read this blog - so she had an inkling of what was coming...)

Mark and Lorie have a fully fenced in front yard surrounding their one-story bungaloo. The doors to the front and back were wide open and a cool breeze was blowing through the house. They had tents set up in the front and side yard and they had more toys than the North Pole. The kids had a great time playing together, we had a great pizza dinner ... and when Charlie went to bed at a reasonable hour because of his race the next day ... the three of us sat and enjoyed wine. Lots and lots of great wine.

Sunday morning, while Charlie competed in his race ... we hung out at a local park near Mark & Lorie's house. The kids had a fun time running around and playing on the different structures, while I savored having two additional adults help me supervise. The only thing that would have made this outing more fun is if we I had a 4th hat so we could pass Shayna off as a quad. With her blonde hair and blue eyes - it would be easy to do. Although, we got enough looks and comments as it was.

When Charlie returned, we loaded up our sleigh - assumed our cramped positions in the truck - and took off for a picnic one hour south (on the way back home). It should have taken us one hour to get there ... but it took us almost two and a half. Once I realized we were on the wrong freeway, my motto of "We don't need no stinking map!" became "Charlie, how could you forget to pack a map?!!"

Over the past few years of struggling with infertility, I have become acquainted with several people over the internet that have gone through the same challenges in achieving parenthood. A few months ago, several of us met for the first time. This weekend, we met again. Unfortunately, we were three hours late arriving to the picnic ... but with all the other things we had happening that day - it's a wonder we made it at all. Before loading the kids up for the 2-hour trek home, we filled their little bellies with a Slurpee. Maybe it was the frozen fruity processed goodness, or maybe it was the excitement of the weekend ... but our children passed out before we even left the parking lot and remained unconscious until we pulled in to the driveway.

Although Charlie is a natural born athlete, he hasn't really been on a bike for at least three years. This race that I signed him up for was a big one and an excellent catalyst for him to get back in to something that I know he loves. His official time for riding 25 miles was 1 hour, 16 minutes. His relay team finished the LA Triathlon 6 overall out of 50 teams. That's not too shabby. As a family we enjoyed a great weekend with new friends and old, and even though we questioned the logistics of leaving the safety of our house, we threw caution to the wind and went for it.

I suppose that if there is a moral to this story, it would be even when you think it's too much to do - it's always good to give it the old college try. When you're packing for a trip with your children - just make sure your humor and sense of adventure are the first things to go in the suitcase.

Along with a map.

I Am Blogger 1734

September 11, 2001: I'm between jobs. I'm preparing for the Geology State Board exam in 3 days. As I breathe, I want nothing more than to become a mom. I wake up at 7:30 on a beautiful Tuesday morning and I wander in to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat before settling down for a full day of studying. My husband is listening to the radio. We hear news that the World Trade Center has been hit by two planes. We hear news that a plane has crashed in to the Pentagon. We hear news that another plane has crashed in to a field in Pennsylvania. With my fear of flying, I am gripped with horror for what has happened. No where in my mind do I think, or could I ever fathom, that these tragedies were pre-meditated. I can't let go of the notion that there was a HUGE glitch with the computer systems. Air traffic controllers have obviously lost all control...

I spend the next three days camped in front of the television set with boxes of Kleenex by my side. I am unable to sleep ... unable to eat ... unable to study ... unable to look away. On September 14, I flunk my State Boards because I cried through the whole exam.

Five Years Later.

September 11, 2006: I'm raising 22-month old triplets. I'm working part-time as a State-certified Geologist. I'm reveling each and every day in the wonder of life and parenthood. As I breathe, I'm praying for peace on earth. For the past month, whenever I have a spare moment, I am researching Perry Anthony Thompson. A man I never knew.

To honor and remember those who perished five years ago today ... 2,996 bloggers will post a tribute to an individual who died during that horrific, perfectly blue sky morning in September, 2001. I am blogger 1734.

2,996. Two thousand. Nine hundred. Ninety six. Lives, lost.

Five years ago, I didn't know anything about any of the people who died, but I did mourn for each and every one of them. I also mourned for the thousands of people that I watched on the news, walking around and pinning up signs of their loved ones. What I remember the most - are feelings of helplessness and desperation. Those feelings gave way to an overwhelming surge of patriotism that resulted in me decorating our home and vehicle with American Flags.

Five years later.

Our American Flag is still flying proudly on our home ... and I know something more than I did, about one of the 2,996 victims.

Perry was 36 years old. He was the husband to Charlette. Daddy to 7-year old Ashley and 3-year old Chelsea. Son to Lula, and brother to Mike and Lisa. From the memorial pages I've read, Perry was a friend to many.

In his spare time, Perry was a celebrity photographer for various magazines. He took pictures of several stars including Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson and Whitney Houston. One of the last events Perry photographed, was a New York party attended by Don King, Stevie Wonder and Florence Henderson. Perry was meticulous when it came to photography ... especially photography of his beautiful daughters. On Christmas Eve, he would spend hours posing them in front of their tree.

I can just imagine it.

On September 11, 2001 - while I was sleeping in California - Perry was working as an insurance adjuster for AON Corporation on the 98th floor of the World Trade Center's south tower in New York. Since the Thompson's were raising their children in Williamstown, New Jersey ... Perry would wake up at 4:00 AM so he could catch the 5:30 AM bus in to the city. Perry got to work early that Tuesday, just like he did every day, so that he could be home by 7:00 PM to spend time with his family.

Perry knew that the north tower had been struck by a plane. Because Perry was a religious man, and would commute two hours to church each and every Sunday, I suspect he was praying that bright Tuesday morning. I also suspect that he was wishing that he could be home with his wife and two little girls.

Like me, Perry was a parent. Like me, Perry wanted to see his children grow up. His daughters were 7 and 3, and I'll bet nothing on God's green earth held a candle to the adoration they these children had for their daddy. What I learned about Perry during this past month is that he was well loved. I also learned that he will never be forgotten by those whose lives he touched. I found tributes to Perry, written by several people who knew him best. All of the tributes were moving ... but the letter written by his daughter, three and a half years after his passing, brought me to tears.

***

Daddy,

On this First day of 2005, I realize how much I need and miss you. As you now rest in peace I remember the good times we use to have. It is around the Holidays that your spirit is especially in our hearts most. We remember how your special Holiday traditions, brought us together as a family. We will miss you and love you always. We will reunite in Heaven one day.

Love, Ashley

***

The United in Memory Quilt has a square honoring Perry Anthony Thompson. Although this image is a bit fuzzy, Perry's square contains the image of a camera. This is undoubtedly due to Perry's love of photography and his joy in taking pictures. Unlike the image of Perry's quilt square - the picture in my mind of September 11, 2001 is crystal clear. Even though five years have passed since that beautiful blue sky day ... I will never forget.

Five years later.

I will never forget the confusion, the horror, the senselessness. But more than that, I will never forget the strength, the resolve, the compassion, the determination, the outpouring of love, support and patriotism. From this day on - I will never forget Perry Anthony Thompson. A guy I didn't even know.

One of the things I learned when I finally passed my State Board exam is that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. With all of my heart, I pray that the Thompson family is always able to find Perry's love and energy around them. You're right Ashley, your daddy's spirit is with you.

It's with me, too.

Problem Solved!

Here's the thing. I try to drink at least 64 ounces of water a day. That's great for my digestive system ... but not so great for those times when I am out in public, by myself, with our children.

Whenever I go out, by myself, it damn near always happens that I am struck by the urge to use the restroom. One adult + Three toddlers + One public bathroom = Not a very good situation. Especially when you are a germophobe. My options are severely limited. As such, I'll often ask myself do I:

1) Bring all three kids with me only to have them TOUCH every disgusting item in a public restroom??

2) Try to maneuver the massive triplet stroller in to the stall??

3) Take the chance of leaving the triplet stroller outside the stall with my three precious children inside, completely unattended?? OR ...

4) Hold it and rush home.

It's a dilemma. It's an even worse dilemma when you've REALLY got to go.

Unless there is an enormously large handicap stall that I can occupy - there are usually no stalls large enough to hold our triplet stroller. Because I never want to leave our children unattended ... my only option is to bring all three kids in to the bathroom with me ... and then furiously scrub them down with Purell and antiseptic wipes.

Although I haven't provided all the details of our potty-training saga ... I will give the teaser that these days ... our children love following me in to the bathroom. They absolutely rejoice in being anywhere close to "The Potty." The love seeing "The Potty" - they love touching "The Potty" - they even love trying to kiss "The Potty." Yes, it's true.

With that in mind ... during my recent internet travels - I stumbled upon this gadget which I think might solve my public restroom dilemma. More than that ... I whole heartedly believe that this one little contraption might simplify my life in more ways than I could ever possibly imagine.

Think of it.

I could go to friend's houses ... I could go to church ... I could go to public restrooms ... I could cook, clean and maybe even take a nap. All the while, my kids would have a great time - just hanging around.

Can it be ...

Guess what we're working on?

Here's a hint:



After my monthly triplet mama dinner tonight, I don't have the brain power to dive in to the details on our experiences with the potty. Maybe tomorrow I'll muster the energy and courage to review why I'm prepared to keep our children in diapers until they are 5. Or 8.

They have those pull-ups ... right?

The Peak

I have a little piece of paper that hangs on our refrigerator that I try to refer to daily. It is a passage, written by Chuck Swindoll about "Attitude". It goes like this:

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important that appearance, giftedness, or skill. It will make or break a company ... a church ... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we embrace for that day. We cannot change our past. We cannot change the fact that people act in certain ways. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you. We are in charge of our attitudes. "

The importance of having a positive attitude in life cannot be over emphasized.

Especially when you are a parent.

It's the honest truth that sometimes, I am emotionally, mentally and physically drained. And I haven't even gotten out of bed yet.

There are some days, I would give my right arm, minivan, unopened bottle of Jack London 1994 Cabernet 1/2 gallon of Rocky Road ice cream to stay in bed until 10 AM and watch back to back re-runs of Bridget Jones's Diary on Bravo while I painted my toenails. The most challenging thing that I would have to deal with is determining whether I would wear my shorts or my sarong to the pool, where I would sit all day and read a book, with a frozen cocktail in my hand that was magically refilled.

As much as we love our children and even after all that we went through to become parents ... the shots, the surgeries, the psychological rollercoaster, the tens of thousands of dollars shelled out over 8+ years ... there are moments in time when we wish the only responsibility we had ... is to take care of ourselves.

One of the biggest adjustments for us, after having been married for 10 years before children, is the giving of ourselves completely each and every day. There is no doubt - the happiness that our children bring to our lives is immeasurable. But so is the amount of work that is required to care for and clean up after them.

During a recent dinner with our triplet group, I sat next to a new mom. She looked exhausted and at one point, leaned over to me and in all seriousness asked "When will it get better??" As I was about to respond, another triplet mom chimed in and said "You think what you're going through now is hard?! Just wait until you have three toddlers that are in to EVERYTHING and are an absolute danger to themselves!"

At first I felt like saying "Ah ha! validation! I'm not alone!!" But when I looked at this new mom and the expression of horror that spread across her face, I felt compelled to say something positive. So I added "It doesn't get easier, per se ... it gets different. You will be a lot more capable of handling the challenges of parenting triplets when your babies are sleeping at night, and that will happen soon. More than that - the JOYS that you get to experience with three babies are exponential."

I must not have been very convincing because she went on to order vodka ... straight up.

On Saturday, we attended church again. After the service, a mother with 3-year old triplets came up to me and said "This sermon [on patience] was so timely. I was at my wits end. I actually called my husband and told him to come home because I couldn't spend another moment alone with 3-3 year olds."

Giving her a stern look I asked "I thought it got easier at three? Someone TOLD me it got easier when they were three!! Can't you reason with them?? Can't you just have them color quietly while you paint your toenails?" Her husband sensed my anguish and chimed in "It doesn't really get easier, per se ... it just gets different..." Before he had a chance to finish, I looked him square in the eye and said "I was born at night - but not last night. You go tell that to someone who doesn't know any better!"

Yesterday, I took down all the baby gates and let the children have free run of the house... moments before I stepped out the door to go to work. I'm good that way.

But I figured since Charlie's Los Angeles triathlon is this coming Sunday, an increase in his aerobic regiment would be welcomed. Besides, maybe we are being too restrictive on our children. Maybe they do need to explore more...

When I called home a couple hours later to see how the kids were doing with their new found freedom, Elizabeth was scaling the bookshelves, Carolyn was standing on the dining room table playing with the chandelier, William was hiding beneath our bed and Charlie's heart rate had been sustained at 180 for the past two hours. I think he'll do just fine this weekend.

As far as I'm concerned - we are at the peak of how challenging raising children can be. If you'd told me last week that THIS week was going to dish out new obstacles I'd never considered (trying to flush the remote control for our television down the toilet; figuring out how to unscrew the child-resistant cap for Maalox; unlocking and opening the backdoor), I wouldn't have believed it. It's nearly impossible to imagine our lives being any more chaotic than they are right now ... but I suspect they will be.

So what it comes down to is ATTITUDE.

At some point, each day, I usually have to remind myself that these moments with my three children are fleeting. They are growing up so fast. Our standards for the immaculate house we once had - have been completely shot. Our standards for the hours upon hours of "me" or "us" time we once had - have been completely shot. In their place are a messy house ... children hanging off our legs ... hugs - kisses - and laughter.

There is little doubt, these are challenging times and TODAY we are at the peak in raising triplets. But these are also the best days of our lives, and from this perspective, the view couldn't be any better.

This is why we don't go out ...

Today, we went to our friend's house for a barbeque. They have an 18-month old and 4-year old. They assured us their house was fully baby-proofed and they would love to host Labor Day at their place. So ... after Charlie convincing me everything would be fine ... we went.

Their house was immaculate. Their children were well behaved. Their house plants were still alive and their floor lamps had not been toppled. They only had one baby gate blocking their flight of stairs and not a single bathroom door was closed. There were no safety latches on their cabinets and their CD's were in plain sight and less than 2-feet off the ground. Did I mention they have an 18-month old?

Within seconds of stepping foot in their house, I realized that their idea of "baby proofing" and my idea of "baby proofing" are vastly different. Suffice to say, this was the worst dinner party of my entire life and I have vowed to not return to our friend's house until our kids are 10. For those that are wondering - this dinner party was even worse than the time my professor from college and his wife came over to our apartment, she got completely drunk, smashed her corn-on-the-cob in to her salmon and called everyone at the table, including Charlie, a bitch.

On the drive home tonight, Charlie and I had a talk. I asked if it was possible that our children were absolute tyrants ... or if their children were abnormal. Three hours later, I'm still completely confused how in the world they can co-exist with an 18-month old AND house plants. And CD's in plain sight less than 2-feet off the ground.

At our house, there are areas where children can play - and areas where they can't. We do not give them free run of the house. That was not the case at our friend's home ... the kids could "explore" where ever they wanted to. While their children left all of the CD's alone and didn't press every single button on the stereo player ... our kids zoomed in on those two objects faster than a moth to a flame. And ... they left ALL their sand in the sandbox. While our kids were flinging sand all over creation ... their children sat quietly in the box sifting sand and building little castles with moats.

This experience begs the question: Are we doing something wrong by restricting what our kids can play with ... at our house?? Should we take down all the baby gates and let them have "at it"?? If we give them this kind of unreigned freedom ... will it make them less likely to destroy absolutely everything that they can get their hands on??

I wonder... (But I'm not entirely willing to take the chance.)

While their children sat and ate their food - our kids threw rice and beans all over the place and decorated their table and walls with guacamole. When they brought out brownies for dessert, our kids were double-fisted with mouths full of chocolate and grabbing for more. Giving Charlie the look of death that clearly says "MUST LEAVE RIGHT NOW" our children promptly laid on the ground and threw temper tantrums.

Our hosts just smiled at us and said "Oh, they are so cute." Yes ... cute kind of like my college professor's drunken wife who slurred her speech and tried to pick a fight with our cat.

Even though our kids aren't yet 2 ... my worst fear is that we are raising brats. At this age - we're not really doing anything to stem their erratic behavior because there is very little we CAN do. There are three of them and they feed off one another, like a storm brewing.

My analogy is a rip tide at the beach. When you're stuck in a rip tide, the best thing to do is conserve your energy and wait until you get spit out so you can swim safely to shore. Or, signal for help. If you struggle against the rip tide too much ... you're likely to drown ... unless your mother from South Carolina a lifeguard comes to the rescue. I feel like it's a futile effort to try rationalizing with three toddlers. Doesn't it make more sense to conserve my energy, keep my head above water, and reason with them when they get a little older?? Or, by that point - will I be washed out to the middle of the ocean and consumed by sharks??

I want to be a relaxed parent ... the kind of parent that doesn't hover over their child and constantly chant "No, No, No, No, No."

I also want to have relaxed kids ... the kind of kids that are not afraid to explore but don't destroy everything that they touch. I also want for them to be obedient and to not throw their food all over the place. But at THIS age ... I wonder if I'm asking too much.

Am I asking too much???

In the meantime we're staying home with our rats and spiders and three toddlers that have arrived at Hurricane Level IV status. Going out is hugely over rated. Especially when it involves having dinner with our friends and their abnormal children.

Good Things

Today was my day to work. Like every other morning around here I was off to a late start and wasn't fully prepared to leave the house until 9:30. Actually, it might have been closer to 10. Thankfully, I work part-time and no one expects me to be anywhere before noon.

Just as I was preparing to leave and Charlie was running out in the garage to feed Molly before the morning walk, I heard a scream. Well, maybe not a scream like the scream I made on Monday ... but a "WHOA!!! WHOA!!! WHOOOOAAAA!!!!"

I grimaced and thought "Ugh! I bet he smells the dead rat that's been in the trash can for the past 48-hours under the hot southern California August sun."

A moment later, I hear Charlie come stomping in to the house with wide eyes. "We caught another one. There's ANOTHER rat in the trap!!!"

Looking at him with complete disbelief I said "What?! Another rat? You mean there's MORE than one?!"

I peered out through the garage door and sure enough, there was another big, dead rat. This one was caught by the second trap that was also laced with beef jerky and peanut butter that I had tried to convince Charlie on Tuesday night to disarm, because surely we had killed the only rat in our zip code.

Charlie was completely grossed out, just like I had been. He asked me where I'd put the gloves and he asked how exactly I had managed to get rid of the rat on Tuesday. "You used a bag, huh? What kind of bag ... a trash bag?!" I heard him go back out side ... and twenty minutes later ... he came back in the house telling me that he felt the overwhelming need to take a shower.

And then Charlie said something that made me realize there is a big difference between he and me ... males and females ... men and women.

The first thought that came to my mind is that the rat we killed on Tuesday, must have been a mother. Or father. They had gone out to gather food for their little family and met their demise in our trap. A couple days later, driven out by hunger and wailing baby rats ... the other parent goes looking for the missing parent - and food for the baby rats - only to meet it's demise in our trap. How terribly sad. I am now motivated to sprinkle graham crackers drizzled with honey around the perimeter of our property for all the baby rats that will undoubtedly starve without their parents.

When I told Charlie my theory - he scoffed at and said "Rats are solitary animals!" And then he recalled a scene from "Lethal Weapon" and figured we could streamline our rat killing operation if we laid plastic sheeting beneath the traps. For the next "victim", all we'd need to do is wrap it up and throw it away. "Think of it Jen. it will be like a mob killing. We won't have to worry about cleaning up the mess at all!!"

Sometimes I just don't get it. How can we be so different - yet so very much alike?

I head off to work and meet with one of my co-workers. I relay to him my events of the past few days. The huge dead rat on Tuesday ... the huge dead rat, today. I told him how I had to pick the rat up and throw it away - all by myself. I was expecting him to be impressed by my ability to handle dead vermin and walk through a monster spider web without dying on the spot. Instead he gives me a puzzled look and says, "What? You didn't keep the trap?!"

I was stumped by this question and a bit annoyed. "What the hell do you mean, 'I didn't keep the trap'?! How the heck would I keep the trap when there was a HUGE dead rat in it?!?!" He went on to tell me that when he was a boy - GROWING UP ON A FARM - he would set traps for mice, rats and gophers. Whenever they would catch rodents ... they would empty the trap and reset them. Meaning - he had to actually open the trap - shake (or PEEL) the contents of the dead vermin out - and then reset it. Of course, they caught several vermin a day ... so emptying a trap was as simple as buttering bread. So he says ...

His experience just reinforces my previous statement that I could never live on a farm. NEVER. EVER.

At around 5:00 this afternoon ... I remembered that I was suppose to meet my fellow triplet mama's tonight for a knitting fest, in less than two hours. I also remembered that I was still at the office ... had more work to do before I could leave ... had not yet showered ... had not yet eaten ... and had not yet told Charlie that I was suppose to be going out tonight.

I finished what needed to be done at work, rushed home and casually told my dear husband that this knitting event had slipped my mind, but it was really important for me to go. All of the women who I had taught to knit at the beginning of the summer - had surpassed 25 feet on their "3-inch test strip" I had started them on. They had no idea how to end the knitting, but were afraid to stop because they were certain they'd forget.

Charlie gave me his blessing so I had a quick dinner of M&M's and orange juice, jumped in the shower and headed out the door. It took me 25 minutes longer to arrive at my destination than it should have, because I am an absolute idiot when it comes to directions and am hopelessly lost with out a navigation system (which is in the car which is in the shop).

The funny thing is - I spent four years in undergraduate and another two years in graduate school studying maps. Yet, it's the honest truth that a frying pan possesses a better sense of direction than do I.

The place where we gathered tonight was a spot where I had gone with my mom, two and a half years ago for a knitting group. (Mom, do you remember?!) The day that I went with my mom, happened to be the day after I had received my second negative pregnancy test - following my second failed IVF cycle. I remembered, so clearly, my state of mind at that time. I recalled sitting on a stool, guzzling a beer, knitting a blanket for a baby that was not meant to be and feeling completely BROKEN inside.

Now, here I was ... less than three years later ... the mother to three beautiful children.

It's just incredible how fast things can change.

Arriving at my destination, I am greeted by my fellow triplet mama's. We wander in to a funky quaint coffee shop and sit down on oversized couches. This place eerily reminds me of "Central Perk" from the TV show "Friends". We order ice cold lemonade, triple chocolate fudge brownies and are serenaded by "Amateur Musician Night". People of all ages and walks of life are up on the stage with their guitars, harpsichords, harmonicas and violins ... playing everything from Folk Music to Irish Jigs.

My fellow triplets mama's pull out their knitting and I am over-the-moon thrilled to see that even though it's been at least 8 weeks since our last get-together ... everyone that I taught how to knit ... actually knows how to knit. I can't get from Point A to Point B without getting lost for 2 hours ... but damn if I can't teach a group of women how to make blankets for babies in South Africa.

So to sum up this day ... the "good things" in my life on August 31, 2006 are:

1) A husband who was home today to deal with the second HUGE DEAD rat in our garage in less than 3 days and who realizes the importance of me having a "girls-night-out"...

2) The reality that we live less than 1/2 a mile from Home Depot where they stock as many rat traps as we could ever possibly need and thus, there is no reason we should ever have to reuse a rat trap...

3) Being so incredibly PROUD of my fellow triplet mama's that I taught how to knit and seeing that they have stuck with it through the entire summer...

4) A funky coffee shop with big comfortable couches, dim lights and amateur musicians...

5) My babies. When I came home tonight, I stood over their cribs watching them sleep. They are absolute perfection and it frequently happens that I have to pinch myself to be sure I'm not dreaming this all up. I will try my absolute best to give them everything I can in life. But kids, I just hope you never ever want to live on a farm.

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For those who inquired about the blankets I'm making ... a few months ago, I stumbled upon a blogger in South Africa, "So Close". This blogger's sister started a charity called "Bosom Buddies" establised to help the destitute mothers of South Africa. A reader on "So Close" crocheted and sent blankets from the US to South Africa for these babies with care packages for the mothers. When I saw that this reader (Bridgette) was making such a huge difference, I thought to myself "I can, could, should, MUST do something, too!"

And so, I have.

It's not much - but it's something ... and I like to think that there are honorable people in this world that are using the supplies I'm sending them - for a good cause. If not, God will sort them out ... right? :)

The good, the bad and ... the ugly

I think I'll start in reverse order because I never like leaving on an ugly note.

Charlie was up and out before 7 AM this morning, while I was completely unaware that he had left and snored through his departure blissfully slept in. I woke up, took a quick shower and got the children dressed.

It was the kind of morning that gave me the feeling that this was going to be a gorgeous day. We had a lovely breakfast. Homemade waffles, fresh fruit, yogurt. I put on everyone's shoes and took them outside to the garage and loaded them in their stroller for a quick walk around the block. I went to feed Molly and as I walked up to her dog food, I stopped in my tracks.

THERE WAS A HUGE RAT STUCK IN THE RAT TRAP CHARLIE HAD SET UP TWO DAYS EARLIER AND THERE WAS BLOOD EVERYWHERE.

The good news: the rat was dead and it looked like a quick death.

The bad news: there was blood everywhere and Charlie wasn't home. I screamed for him, but he was apparently out of ear shot ... nor were there any people in our neighborhood available to come over and assist. Trust me. I ran out in the driveway and did a quick scan - looking for someone - ANYONE.

Last year, about this same time, we had a rat visitor in our garage. I was a new mom and I imagined that this rat might be a mom, too. So, I was totally opposed to killing it, even though it left poop on our garage shelves and was making a mess. But when the rat destroyed Charlie's $400.00 ski boots with custom orthotic inserts - our war cry became "Kill the bastard!"

After two weeks and an increasingly disgusting smell, Charlie deduced that we'd killed ourselves a rat. He pulled out our garage shelves and found the corpse. Being the manly man that he is - he threw it out and didn't complain. We wrongly assumed that this was the total end of vermin in our garage. When poop started showing up on the shelves around the dog food last week, I knew we had another visitor. Rather than wait to see what this new rat was going to destroy - Charlie set traps on Sunday night.

I don't know how to even ... um ... "write" the noise that I made upon seeing the HUGE DEAD RAT stuck in the trap this morning. For a whole 10 minutes, while my beautiful children were strapped safely in their stroller ... I stood in front of the HUGE DEAD RAT and freaked out. The trap had snapped so hard it flipped over and the big pool of blood beneath it's head was only partially coagulated.

I. COLD. HARD. FREAKED. OUT.

I wondered how in the world I was going to get the HUGE DEAD RAT off of our shelves and in to the trash, without touching it - or feeling it, in ANY way. All the while, running through my mind was "Doesn't it figure TODAY was Charlie's day to work?! I ALWAYS work on Tuesdays. Damn him for making me switch ... I bet he KNEW this was going to happen. Loading the rat trap with beef jerky and peanut butter. Of course any rat would be tempted by that kind of goodness..."

It was an ugly sight - and it was an ugly noise that I was making trying to figure out how to dispose of the bloody mess. But the children thought it was hysterical seeing me walk around in circles, smack my head and shout "ARGHHHH!!!!! Gag! Gag! Gag! ARGHHHHH!!!!!!" They sat in their stroller doubled over in laughter - while I did everything I could to hang on to my fresh fruit and waffles. And yogurt.

Ten minutes. It took me 10 minutes to figure out that my best option was to put on a pair of rubber gloves, with work gloves over those - and use a plastic bag. I picked up the end of the trap (without a snapped head) and after trying, unsuccessfully, to flip the 12-inch long tail in to the bag ... decided that I'd just tip toe to the trash and throw the whole thing out.

As I gingerly walked outside - looking all the while down at the HUGE DEAD RAT in my hand - I walked squarely in to a HUGE spider web.

Charlie and I are always amazed by the gargantuan Golden Orb spiders that inhabit southern California in the late summer and early fall. Usually by July, we can see the little itty bitty Golden Orb spiders spinning their webs. By August and September, they have fattened up so that their bodies are about the size of a prune, or - small nectarine.

Better stated - they are ^&*#^*&#$@ huge.

It often happens that these spiders will spin their webs directly outside of our door - so we always have to exercise extreme caution at this time of the year when we go out.

Usually, we do exercise extreme caution. But there wasn't a whole lot of caution being exercised this morning when I stepped outside with a hand full of HUGE DEAD RAT and directly in to the perfectly symmetric web of the Golden Orb spider. I could feel the web around my head, my shoulders, my arms and hands. I could have absolutely sworn I felt the 3-pound Golden Orb spider climb down the inside of my shirt.

I'm really surprised the police didn't show up. Had anyone heard me (and I really wonder how they didn't???) - I think they would have surely thought I was being butchered.

Thank God in heaven - the rat remained in the trap and didn't fall when I screeched and jumped two feet off the ground once I realized that I very well could be the next victim of the Golden Orb. I'm equally thankful that after flinging the rat in the trash can - and running frantically around the yard batting my head, shoulders and arms furiously for another 10 minutes ... there was no sign of a monstrous spider on my body.

The children were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. I think I might have seen somebody turn blue, but who really knows. All of my attention was focused on getting "nature" off of me. Sorry kids, you're choking? I'll get there in a minute. Or two.

The moral of this story is that I could never live on a farm. Never. Ever.

So, we go for our walk. We come home, I unload one, two, three children from the stroller who all instantly run inside the house. I close the garage door and walk inside - where I instantly realize that I forgot to close the door for our hallway bathroom.

I hear splashing.

Looking around the door, I see all three of my beautiful children with their hands in the toilet up to their elbows ... splashing. And then ... they pick their beautiful little hands up and stuff the entire things in their mouth.

ALL THIRTY FINGERS. IN. THEIR. MOUTHS. SOAKED. WITH. TOILET. WATER.

They look at me and excitedly say "Yummmm!!!!"

For the second time, in less than 30 minutes, I wonder why the police don't show up on my doorstep.

Can not one single person in this neighborhood hear my screams?!?

My gorgeous morning had been transformed to the ninth circle of hell.

Full body scouring. Playtime. Lunch. Naps. Shopping at Walmart for diapers that I wasn't able to purchase at Target on Sunday because of the spontaneous simultaneous combustion of three toddlers on Aisle Five. I finish my shopping and make all of my purchases - despite the fact that two of my three have again - spontaneously combusted during our "outing".

Lugging a shopping cart loaded with stuff AND pulling my triplet stroller. Through Walmart.
While doing my best to smile at people and ignore the full-blown temper tantrums and Teddy Grahams being launched in every which direction.

I honestly considered starting cocktail hour at 3 PM today.

Tonight, I finished the four packages I'll be mailing to South Africa, tomorrow. (Actually, I'm sending them to an address in California, where they'll be brought back to South Africa. Ah, details.)

In each package is a knitted blanket, a footed terry sleeper, two onesies, two booties, a tube of diaper rash cream, a rattle, a bag of hard candies for mom - and a toiletry bag for mom that includes body wash, moisturizer, facial soap and lip gloss.

I'm seriously contemplating including a super sized bottle of Excedrin and whiskey in my care packages - should these poor South African mother's ever experience a day like I experienced ... today.

Weekend Recap @ 22 months

Happiness is:

Taking a half day on Friday so we can all go to SeaWorld, for the first time.


Seeing Shamu jump out of the water, for the first time.



Eating popcorn, for the first time.


Figuring out that shoelaces work great as dental floss - after eating popcorn - for the first time.


Saturday morning cartoons while sipping orange juice, in the big bed.


A 2-year old triplet friends birthday party on a Saturday afternoon. (As an FYI - there were 4 sets of 20-24 month old triplets at that table ... all sitting perfectly still and eating. I never would have believed it if I hadn't witnessed it with my own two eyes.)


Playing with a balloon, for the first time.


Jumping in a ball pit, for the first time.


Sitting in a jacuzzi, for the first time. (Sorry - mom didn't bring her camera to the pool. Too bad, this was a really cute scene.)

Picnics on a lazy Sunday beneath a shady tree.


Running through a fountain at our local park, for the first time.


Kicking a ball with dad, for the umpteenth time.


Drawing with sidewalk chalk, for the first time.


These are the best days of our lives and I don't want the joy and excitement over experiencing simple things for the first time - to ever end.

But, the full-out-temper-tantrums with arched backs and legs kicking when we left SeaWorld. And the birthday party. And the pool. And the park. And while in the middle of Target with two things crossed off my list and twelve more critical items to go ... I'm ready for those to end. Infact, it would be nice if they ended tomorrow - because I am in dire need of diapers.

100 Tips for my Amazing Trips

As my 100th blog posting loomed ever nearer … I’ve been in a quandary regarding what I should write about to commemorate the occasion. I could follow suit of many other bloggers before me, and write 100 tidbits of fascinating information about myself. But if you've read my profile or taken the time to read any of my previous 99 blog postings, you have a good idea of who I am. I don't have much more "fascinating" information beyond that ... and if I do - I have to hang on to it for future blogging material.

So after contemplating this milestone for the past few days, I’ve decided to capture 100 of the best tips for living a happy life that I’ve heard, read, or realized myself.

I am drawing (or in some cases, directly quoting) from the works of many great masters ... so upfront, I must give credit to Max Ehrmann (Desiderata); H. Jackson Brown (Life’s Little Instruction Book); Richard Carlson (Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff); Don Miguel Ruiz (The Four Agreements), and of course - the Bible. These are just a few of the resources I have tapped in to and try (big emphasis on the word TRY) to live by … in my quest for having a happy and rich life.

As our children grow older and move out in to the world, these are just some of the tips that I hope they will learn from us – and which I hope they will always keep in their mind and heart.

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1. Your body is a temple. Take good care of it.

2. Do unto others, as you would want them to do unto you.

3. Be kind. Be gentle. Be compassionate.

4. Be courageous and confident.

5. Be honest. Your reputation is your most valuable asset.

6. Take pride in who you are and in your appearance.

7. Stand up for what you believe in.

8. Help to defend those who cannot defend themselves.

9. Always do your best.

10. Avoid loud and aggressive people. But do not tolerate bullies. If you are ever in a fight – hit first and hit hard.

11. Laugh often. A good sense of humor can cure almost all of life’s ills.

12. Do not do drugs and don't associate with those who do.

13. Learn from your mistakes, everyone makes them.

14. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

15. Show respect for all living things, including this planet on which we live.

16. Conserve energy and recycle.

17. Remember and contribute to those less fortunate than yourself.

18. Honor fallen soldiers on Memorial Day and always remember that they gave their lives so we could live free.

19. Relationships can be difficult. Just because your heart has been broken, doesn’t mean it can’t love again.

20. A book can heal your soul. Have a good collection of books and fill your soul, frequently.

21. Music can heal your soul, too. Have a good collection of music and fill your soul, frequently.

22. Keep a journal. Life moves fast and writing down your thoughts, feelings and experiences can be incredibly grounding.

23. Be extremely mindful of what you say or write – some words cannot be retrieved.

24. It's okay to go to bed angry. Sometimes a good night's sleep is the best cure.

25. Communicate clearly and try not to carry a grudge.

26. Sometimes being a friend means just ‘being’ there. Words aren’t always necessary and silence can be golden.

27. If you know you’re wrong … admit it.

28. Don’t allow yourself to be dragged down by someone else’s cynicism.

29. As much as possible, avoid vulgarity. Keep a “Curse Cup” available for when you can’t and donate the proceeds to charity.

30. Choose your friends very carefully.

31. Stay connected to those you love.

32. Look for the good in people.

33. Always back the Boston Red Sox.

34. Support the underdog. (Unless they are playing the Red Sox).

35. Don’t gossip.

36. Choose your life’s mate very carefully. From this one decision will come 90% of your happiness or misery.

37. Marry only for love.

38. Listen to others and to children.

39. Do not compare yourself. There will always be greater and lesser persons than you.

40. Enjoy good food and wine – but always in moderation.

41. Never underestimate your ability. You can do anything you put your mind to.

42. Set goals for yourself.

43. When things seem out of control, just remember – “This too shall pass.” (It has been my mantra for the first two years of your life.)

44. Use your time wisely and be efficient.

45. Don’t procrastinate. If something needs to be done, do it.

46. Finish what you start.

47. “Have patience” is a lot easier said than done. Practice your patience and always keep your temper in check.

48. Save at least 15% of your income.

49. Live within your means.

50. Everyone has greatness within his or her soul. Find your passion.


51. Always remember - tomorrow is a brand new day.

52. Trust your instinct. If something feels wrong – it probably is. Someone once told me “A gut feeling is God whispering in your ear.”

53. Realize that there are always two sides to every story.

54. Everyday, spend some time to stretch.

55. Enjoy fresh fruit and vegetables, daily.

56. Find a way to express yourself artistically.

57. Avoid soft drinks and consume lots of water instead. A vast majority of the population is chronically dehydrated.

58. Brush your teeth and floss daily. See the dentist for a professional cleaning at least once every six months.

59. Don’t allow clutter to overtake your life. Donate your discards to charity.

60. Remember other people’s birthdays. Especially your siblings!

61. Be prompt to write thank you notes.

62. Depression is real. When you consistently feel down, do something to lift yourself back up. Talk with friends and family, go to church, exercise … if necessary, see a doctor.

63. Live in the NOW and don’t let the past – or future - haunt you.

64. Don’t be a complainer. If something is wrong, fix it. If you can’t fix it – move on.

65. Realize that the only person you can control is yourself.

66. Get a good night’s rest.

67. Before making a big decision, learn all the facts … and then sleep on it.

68. Frequently take inventory of your priorities and make sure that they are aligned appropriately. No one ever said on their death bed “I wish I’d spent more time at the office.”

69. Make your bed in the morning and never go to sleep with dirty dishes in the sink.

70. Take vacations and spend quality time with those you love.

71. Take a lot of photographs and consider using the date stamp. You might quickly forget when things happened.

72. Take videos of your loved ones. Capture their movements, laughter and voice on tape.

73. Study hard. A good education is important for success and is something no one can ever take away from you.

74. Don’t ignore your body. If you don’t feel “right” see a doctor.

75. Remember that you only come this way once. Try to live each day to the fullest.

76. You, and you alone, are in charge of your attitude.

77. Don’t be afraid to question authority.

78. Be humble. A lot was accomplished before you were born.

79. Find the beauty in nature, every day.

80. Nothing will make you appreciate the amenities of home like a camping trip.

81. Sometimes a new haircut and outfit can make all the difference in the world.

82. Carry a cell phone.

83. Have a firm handshake and look people in the eye when you talk to them.

84. Learn CPR and basic first aid.

85. Learn how to cook at least three good meals.

86. As much as possible - sit together with your family at meal times and always give thanks.

87. Honor traditions.

88. Have respect for cultures and lifestyles different from your own.

89. Find a sport that you enjoy and stick with it. (Except skydiving, swimming with sharks, bungee jumping – or any other activity that will keep me, your mother, awake at night.)

90. Become part of a community.

91. Volunteer some of your free time to a good cause.

92. Remember that God’s Fingerprints are on everything.

93. Have faith. Whether or not it is clear to you now, no doubt the Universe is unfolding as it should.

94. Be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be – and in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

95. Think before you act and stay safe.

96. Always drive safely and wear a seatbelt. Never be a passenger in someone's vehicle that drives recklessly. Do not be afraid to make them stop the car so you can get out.

97. Play, sing, dance and laugh … every day.

98. You can always count on your dad and I. If you are in a situation where you need help, please do not be afraid to reach out to us. Regardless of the day or hour - we will be there, or will do whatever we can to help you.

99. Know this. You are my greatest miracle. I have waited my whole life for you and until the moment I first held you in my arms, there was a void in my heart. More than the sun and the moon, the earth and the stars … my love for you is endless.

100. You were brought in to this world with your siblings. Stick together, support and always love one another.

Can you feel the love?

Within the past month, our kids babies have started to display affection towards one another and towards us. Of course, they're also smacking and biting each other more than ever ... but every so often, we get a glimpse of a hug - or a kiss - and it melts our heart.

As for me, I particularly love the huge hugs that I get when I pick them up, and they wrap their little arms tightly around my neck and rest their head on my shoulder.

Ah, my babies.

These are the very moments I've waited my whole life to experience.

(Yes. They're still babies to me.)

It's nice to see these acts of compassion, although sometimes the compassion is on the heels of victimization.

As a purely hypothetical example (which very well might have occurred at least twenty-two times, today): William is playing with a new toy truck ... Gracie sees new toy truck, wants new toy truck, takes new toy truck. William cries. Gracie, with new toy truck in her grasp, runs off and retrieves William's blankie, which she then hands to William, gives William a kiss on the head ... and then sits and happily plays with new toy truck. While William continues to mourn the loss of the new toy truck.

Suck it up, buddy. You've got your blankie, right?!

William recovers. William spots Mom's cell phone that is sitting precariously on the counter. William maneuvers cell phone off the counter and smiles happily at his prize. Elizabeth sees William with cell phone, takes cell phone away from William, sending William in to a fit of crying. Elizabeth with cell phone in her grasp, runs off and retrieves William's blankie, which she then hands to William, gives William a kiss on the head ... and then sits and happily plays with Mom's cell phone. All the while William continues to mourn the loss of Mom's cell phone.

Life can be tough for William with two younger sisters that insist on tormenting him. It's just that William always has his eyes scanning the horizon for things to play with. Unfortunately, his sisters appear to be incapable of finding fun stuff to play with for themselves ... and thus they lie in wait to take away whatever he finds.

And so it goes.

There are few things cuter than seeing our children give one another a kiss ... a hug ... or greet us when we come home from work with a peck on the cheek. Affection is finally being shown to one another, and reciprocated to us.

It certainly beats the alternative.

Story Time

I think that our 22-month old toddlers love of books is pretty awesome ... to the point that I'm willing to share my *secret* with the world for getting our babies hooked on books. Or, I'll at least share my *secret* with everyone who visits Shannon for all of the great advice that is dished out each and every Wednesday.

If you want the condensed version of this post: Read to your child every day, make it a habit. Surround yourself with books. Every night, put your child to bed with a book that they can flip through as they go to sleep. Rotate those books frequently. But most importantly ... read to your child every day. (Did I say that already?)

If you want the unabridged version of this post: Read on. My recommendations for 'must-have' children's books are summarized with hyperlinks to Amazon.com for your expedited shopping convenience. It works for me!!

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There is no doubt that our children's favorite toy is a book. Rivaled only by our cutlery set. And our computer. And our telephone. Any type of fragile glassware. Any kind of electronics. Any kind of power tools. Any type of trash can - the dirtier, the better.

Let me rephrase that.

There is no doubt that my favorite toy for our children, is a book. Although it really helps that they enjoy books, too. This makes sense, considering my favorite toy as a child ... was a book. Growing up - I was surrounded by books and was blessed with a mother who always read to me. In sixth grade, even though I was a grade level behind in mathematics ... I was six grade levels ahead in reading.

Before we even had children - we had books for children. Some of these books are remnants from when I was a kid. Some, I've picked up along the way. I pride myself on an almost complete collection of Dr. Seuss. I also have a fine assortment of hard back books that I will indulge our children with as they grow older.

Including but not limited to our collection are the children classics: Where the Sidewalk Ends, Where the Wild Things Are, The Giving Tree, You're All My Favorites (this is a must have book for any one with triplets), and the mandatory tear-jerker Love You Forever. I doubt I will ever be capable of reading Love You Forever, without sobbing uncontrollably. No matter how many times I read this book - it always has the exact same effect and I am 1/2 a Kleenex box down.

As our kids grow older, they will have the complete collection of Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary at their fingertips. They will also have the entire collection of Michael Crichton, John Grisham, Anna Quindlen, Tom Clancy, J.K Rowling, and Lance Armstrong. Not to mention a whole lotta books by Nicholas Sparks, Mark Twain, Anita Diamant, William Shakespeare, Simon Singh, James Redfield, John Horner and Rick Warren.

Suspense. Sports. Physics. Religion. Romance. Fiction. Economics. Paleontology. Politics. We're ecclectic that way.

The point is, our house is FILLED to the brink with books and every kind imaginable. Every single room in our home has a bookshelf - and most of those bookshelves are spilling their guts. But does that stop me from going on Amazon and buying more, more and yet more ... HECK NO!

I think it's safe to say that one of our goals as parents is to not only raise the most tolerant, responsible, compassionate human beings we are capable of ... but to also teach them a love of reading. A love of literature. A love of books.

I love books, especially good ones. My sincerest apologies to Morris, Abbott and Haderlie, but I just couldn't get past the first chapter of "Intertidal Invertebrates of California." Although, I will admit - the pictures were nice. That's why I always try to include photographs with my blog postings. Even though people in cyberspace may think my writing stinks ... at least they'll have pictures of adorable children to see.

I began reading to our babies within days of their birth. For the six weeks that they spent in the Neonative Intensive Care Unit, during each of my visits, I would bring along a book that I would read to them. Sometimes, I'd just read aloud the insert that came with my pain relief prescription. But I was always reading. Or snoring. Sometimes both - simultaneously.

Once the babies came home from the hospital, I'd line them up in front of me in their bouncy chairs and I'd spend hours minutes, every day, reading to them. Even though our children were in the "larval" stage and did little more than poop and sleep, story time was as much a part of our daily ritual - as eating.

It still is.

Usually our choice of books are brightly colored and vibrant stories that contain animals. To accompany my reading, I have a menagerie of stuffed creatures that make noises when squeezed. If the story contains a duck - I have a duck that goes "quack!" If the story contains a frog, lion, cow, tiger, dog, bear, pig, leopard, cat or panther ... I have stuffed animals that will "ribbit, ROAR!, moo, ROAR!, woof, ROAR!, oink, ROAR!, meow and ROAR!"

I never realized how many animals roared until I wrote that sentence.

By about three months of age, the babies eyes would fixate on me whenever I would read to them. It got to the point that all I'd have to say is "Brown Bear, Brown Bear ... what do you see?" and I'd have their rapt attention. They knew what I was saying and I quickly recognized that my babies were brilliant. For those who have inquired how I get all three of our children to look at the camera when their picture is being taken ... that's my secret. I just recite a passage from a book that they enjoy.

There is one particular book that is like crack cocaine for our kids. From what I know, crack cocaine is one of the most grossly intoxicating and addictive drugs known to man. Similarly, this one particular book is both intoxicating and addictive - which is why I only bring it out when my world is collapsing around me. (Probably a bad metaphor - but bear with me...)

I first started reading What A Wonderful World when the babies were 8-months old. This book is illustrated to the classic song (made famous by Louis Armstrong) and rather than read to them, I would sing to them. It is because of my children's overwhelming excitement each time I break in to song, that I am seriously contemplating auditioning for the next American Idol. Really.

Whenever our children see this book - they go absolutely crazy. They laugh, they scream, they clap their hands, they run around the room, they (try) jumping up and down. When I read sing it to them, they gaze off in to space and go limp.

Unfortunately for them, this book is comprised of paper pages and I realized that leaving it in their possession for any length of time means that pages will be ripped, torn out and instantly digested. When I put this book back after story time, I have witnessed temper tantrums and tears like I've never (ever) seen before. The only thing that comes close to the desperation displayed by my children ... are the poor souls who are going through drug intervention and withdrawl week on the Discovery Channel.

Which is WHY I draw the analogy between this simple book and crack cocaine. There is no better weapon I have in this house to mellow out over-stimulated, exhausted toddlers ... than this book.

Everyday, I make it a point to read to our children. With time, I have surrendered to the fact that our their books are going to be ripped to shreds. The pages of what I once thought to be indestructible board books disintegrate before my eyes like cardboard soaked in water. Because, these books are made of cardboard ... and they are soaked in saliva. Every day.

It doesn't matter. Books are replaceable and the fact that our babies literally devour them - brings more joy to me than I could ever possibly express. They have full access to all baby books, with the exception of What A Wonderful World. I'd be replacing that book weekly - if not daily - if I let my little junkies get a hold of it.

One of the BEST shower gifts I received when pregnant, was a box full of "must-have" books for babies. Some of the books that were included in that gift box are our favorite books, today. Paper page books aside, this is a partial rundown of our favorite board books (from birth to 22-months old):

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?

Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear?

Goodnight Gorilla

Dear Zoo

Any of the Bright Baby books

Where's Spot?

Smile!

Any of the Roger Priddy and Priddy and Bicknell books

Pat The Bunny

Where's Baby's Belly Button?

Baby Signs (First Signs, Mealtime and Bathtime)

Baby ABC (sung to the alphabet theme song)

Any of the Touch & Feel books

Peekaboo Kisses

Additionally, my talented sister-in-law Kathy, who created Bath Aprons for us ... also made books for each of the kids.

She printed out pictures on 8.5 x 11 paper, added captions like "This is my sister / brother", "This is my Mommy", "This is my Daddy"... had the pages laminated - folded them in half and then sewed the crease with heavy duty string (dental floss?).

Our kids positively love flipping through these homemade books and looking at photos of people within their life.

What I positively love is that these books are extremely durable and show no sign of wear.

Every night when we tuck our kids in to bed, we leave with them a few books for their perusing leisure. I think this ritual of bedtime reading is in large part why our kids enjoy going to bed at night. They know that they'll have in their possession - coveted books that they would never have the opportunity to thoroughly enjoy ... uninterrupted ... during the day. Similarly, each night when Charlie and I retire to bed ... we bring along whatever book we happen to be reading.

Regardless of the age, there is something so gratifying about dozing off to sleep - with a good book in hand.

Another update ... of sorts

Just a quick re-cap on some happenings around here.

We went back to church again, last weekend. We even participated in the barbeque, following the service. The key to our success was extremely simple. Complete and utter containment of the children. They remained in their Peg triplette stroller ... Charlie and I ate food that other people cooked for us, mingled, ate some more, and then didn't have to lift a finger to clean our own kitchen that night. It was heavenly ... both literally and figuratively. We really enjoy this church and plan to go again, soon. The only challenge that remains is getting our kids to embrace the nursery. They ain't so nuts about being left behind.

My neck has healed, but not without a bit of discomfort lots of complaining for several days. The only thing that offered any pain relief was ice cream. Specifically, Ben & Jerry's peanut butter cup. With all of those extra 'healing' calories, I suspect the next time I attempt to roll this body over my neck, I'll completely crush myself.

The advice offered to put our kids pajamas on backwards was brilliant. The only glitch is when you have to change a diaper at 11 PM without waking up a sleeping child. It's tricky when you need to flip the child over on their tummy to unbutton them ... flip them back over to put on the diaper ... and then flip them on their tummy again, to button them up. However, my minor inconvenience was definitely worth it when you consider the alternative of three toddlers undressing themselves and fingerpainting with whatever *supplies* they had available.

As of this week, we're down to one nap. Typically, I've been holding the kids up until lunch, and then putting them down by 12:30'ish. They usually nap until about 2:30 or 3:00. However. If I notice that during the morning, they are crabby, I'll put them down at 10 or 10:30 ... and then give them some quiet "crib time" at 3:30 or 4:00. Even with this later afternoon "quiet time", the kids are still going to bed between 7 and 7:30, most nights ... and they don't wake up until 8:00 or 8:30, the following morning. Which means, I don't wake up until 8:00 or 8:30 most mornings, either.

I've knitted four blankets and am starting on my fifth. A couple months ago, I was able to round up some fellow triplet mom's to join me in a stitch & bitch fest.

We had a great time.

Unfortunately, since then - everyone's been busy with vacation, sick kids, traveling spouses ... and life. I hope to coordinate another knitting fest soon ... but regardless - I will be shipping off my first box of blankets, clothing, and miscellaneous baby supplies to South Africa in early September.

Thankfully, I feel somewhat humanitarian knitting blankets. In the picture of the blankets, you might notice a white box. That is from the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society, an organization I support wholeheartedly. However. They called me during an exceptionally hectic time (kids biting one another, kids climbing and falling off the the table, Molly crapping in the back yard - which took all my attention because I need to know where to go clean up) and asked if I wouldn't be a neighborhood volunteer for their fund raising effort. When I told them "send me information" I didn't expect that they'd send me 25 envelopes to mail to all of my neighbors asking for money. I don't mind being solicited, per se. I'd just prefer not to do it myself. Even if it is for a good cause.

Now for my question: Would it be too awful if I skipped the solicitation of my neighbors and just mailed them a check for all the money I think I'd get ($10.00) ... plus the $50.00 I'd kick in??

The new bunnie squeakles is making headway. Very slowly and cautiously, I've seen Elizabeth pick him up and give him a "squeak! squeak!" He certainly isn't interchangable with "bunny", yet ... but Rome wasn't created in a day. Appropriate analogy for a stuffed animal, huh?

All I know is that this child loves bunnies. In any form or fashion (note headband in first photo, above).

After some considerable thought - and one of our contractors asking if we were crazy when he came over to give us a bid during mealtime and got stuck in the crossfire of a toddler triplet feeding frenzy - we've decided to hold off on any interior upgrades. We are contemplating painting the outside of the house and sprucing up our back yard, but that'll be it. For now.

I have placed not one ... not two ... but three phone calls to Estate Lawyers. My goal is that by the end of the month (I'd prefer not going to commit expand on which month), I will have our "details" squared away. It's been four months since I first posted about this - but since my lag factor is 6 months to facilitate sleeping in until 8:30 every morning I'm way ahead of schedule.

If only I could apply that same logic to laundry...