The *Omniverous* Ones ...

There use to be a day when our kids would eat what I'd feed them. This would be limited to breastmilk, baby cereal, vegetables and fruit. We'd also throw in some formula here and there for good measure. I was going through photos tonight and came across this one, taken in the "early days." This was about a year ago ... around the time our kids were really starting to get the hang of solids. The reason the picture is blurry is because I was moving FAST to get food shoveled in to three hungry little mouths . The rest of the pictures I'm adding in because I thought they were cute and figured this was a good opportunity to post them...



Now, our children happen to eat whatever is in their path. I say that they are "omniverous" because they are both herbivores (fruit & vegetables) and they are carniverous (meat and ... biting each other. Does this count?) The point is, this creates a whole new level of concern for me - because what they ingest during any given day ... is not necessarily limited to the food that I have provided. I've taken to calling them the "Omniverous Ones" ... not just because they are omniverous - but they also happen to be one, as in, one year old.

I've already made reference in a previous post about the snails that they've tried to eat in the backyard. I almost hurled the other day when I stopped William ... with barely a millisecond to spare ... from shoving an earthworm in his mouth. A dead and dried up earthworm, that he managed to scrape off of our patio. He held it up for me to see, before he proceeded to stick it in his mouth. I never imagined I could move so fast ... but I did. And he was extremely disappointed that I didn't let him enjoy this delicacy that he'd worked so hard for.


I got an awful bite yesterday when during our outside playtime, I noticed that William had a mouth full of ... something. That's never a good feeling when you don't know what your baby has in their mouth. Considering I didn't have any food with us - and I was pretty sure he'd finished his breakfast, an hour and a half earlier, I decided a "finger sweep" was warranted. Once again, he was very disappointed in me that I was trying to remove - what turned out to be mulch - from his gullet. He let me know that this was completely unacceptable by chomping down on my pinky finger.

Charlie and I decided to take the kids out to dinner last night. We wound up at Chevy's ... a great, family friendly, Mexican restaurant. We were sharing our chicken fajitas with the kids - tortillas, rice, beans, chicken - - good healthy stuff. Charlie was commenting how well the kids were eating - - when I happened to notice that once whole crayons ... were in pieces, scattered around the table. William looked like a chipmunk - - cheeks full, of what we had thought up until that point, was wholesome food. Because of my experience earlier in the day with the mulch - - and my pinky finger that was still throbbing - - Charlie literally 'lent a hand' and did the "finger sweep." Charlie discovered that William had chewed off the better part of red, green and yellow crayons. Today, his diaper resemebled a traffic light. (I'm noticing a re-occuring theme here with William being my *problem child* when it comes to eating whatever, whenever ... is this a boy thing?!)

What really interests me is that I will put our children in their highchairs to eat breakfast, lunch, an afternoon snack and dinner. They can usually tolerate about 20-25 minutes in their chairs before they want to be let down. Often times, in fact, most of the time ... they don't really eat a lot while in their chair. Yet, once I put them down on the ground ... and before I have an opportunity to clean the area around their highchairs ... they will be perfectly content to sit on the floor and eat all the food that they just threw off their clean tray. Throughout the course of a day ... I will clean 3 highchairs ... 4 times a day. Each cleaning takes me about 15 minutes. So, in essence - I am spending approximately 1 hour a day ... cleaning up highchairs after they eat. But, since they are so perfectly content sitting on the ground and eating food ... I can't help but wonder if it doesn't make the most logistical sense to just make sure the floor is clean - and feed them there. Would that be wrong??

The other day, while we were outside - falling all over ourselves with the safety harness fiasco ... all three of the kids zeroed in on what they thought were raisins on the side walk. In our neighborhood, springtime is the right time for millions of new bunnies to make their appearance in the world. These bunnies love eating the grass that we have along the side of our home and leaving behind little "tokens" of appreciation. These little "tokens" - it would happen to be - look like a raisin, to the undiscerning eye. And wouldn't you know ... our kids LOVE raisins. I figured out on Friday that although "No!" and "Kangaroo!" don't work to stop our kids from doing something we don't want them to do ... "OH SH*T!!!!" works like a charm. I never intended to use profanity - but, I really couldn't think of a more appropriate term to throw out ... and I guess I got lucky that it stopped my "omniverous ones", in their tracks.

Like all things ... I suppose this too, shall pass. But it really helps that they are so darn cute.

Safety harness ... my a$$!

I was reminded recently of baby harnesses ... those little contraptions that you can put on children and let them walk - but not wander away. A long time ago, I thought they were inhumane - but - that was before I had three toddlers and understood the need to keep them close. Anyway, I thought that these little things might really help us out - - because the babies are not as content as they once were always being in their stroller. They want to get out, they want to walk. I on the flip side, don't want them to wander away ... which they will ... if I don't have a way to hold on to them.

Yesterday, I ventured off to Babies R Us (BRU) with all three kids in tow. This could be an entirely separate posting in itself, how I made the brilliant discovery that I could spend a happy 45 minutes letting my kids play with various floor models in the toy department and how the kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me. While I was at BRU, I picked up three harnesses. SAFETY HARNESSES they're called. I also picked up some other baby items including a toilet seat lock (why we need a toilet seat lock is a posting I'll save for another day); some new sippy cups because we're trying to transition from the bottle (also a posting I'll save for another day); and a bathmat - so that we could again - start bathing all three babies in the big tub (definitely a posting for a different day). We made our purchases, left the store, and drove home. I hadn't left the house for this venture until 2PM, so by the time I was driving home again, it was 3:30. Right about nap time. It was only a 20 minute drive ... and I figured that maybe they'd sleep a bit in the car. The girls caught a 10 minute nap ... William didn't sleep at all. I could tell everyone was zonked. But, using my "keen maternal sense" decided to forego the afternoon nap with the hopes that maybe they'd all go to bed easier than they have the past few nights (thanks to Daylight Saving Time change).

We get home and I give everyone a little snack. They start playing with a few of the toys I bought at BRU. Carolyn is fixated on her corn popper ... the old fashioned kind they had when "I" was growing up. It's a little sphere with a handle attached, and when you push it across the floor, balls (aka: corn) pop in the sphere. William and Elizabeth are playing with some toddler "beads". I was excited to try out the harnesses - - so once Charlie called to tell me that he was coming home from work, I assembled the babies in to their new "safety" gear, and took them out in the front yard. At first, it wasn't so bad. They all were going in the same direction ... forward. I thought to myself "THIS IS GREAT, WE'RE FREE!" Then William went left, Carolyn went right and Elizabeth fell down. I got Elizabeth up, reigned William and Carolyn back in - - and we started making our way down the street. This is when my second bout of "keen maternal sense" kicked in. I actually thought I could salvage this trip.

Not surprisingly, this is when everything went helter skelter. Suddenly, I felt like I was caught in a riptide at the beach and couldn't get out. We live on a corner. One side is nicely landscaped with a gradual hill, going down from our house, the other side is bordered by a neighbor. We decided to walk down the hill with the landscaping because I figured the kids could play on the grass and climb on the small rocks in the yard. The babies and I became one tangled mess within a matter of seconds. William just wanted to keep walking down the hill ... Carolyn - who wouldn't let go of her corn popper and took it outside with us, was going up hill ... and Elizabeth was climbing on the rocks. Babies were falling down all around me. When I would get everyone standing again, they'd manage to walk in circles around each other and around me - - so that the straps from the harness were like lassoo's around necks, legs, and ankles. This is when I first started to question the "safety" in harness. Within a few minutes, I had three, fussy babies because they didnt' get an afternoon nap, laying on the ground and crying. It took everything I had to remain standing. I don't know why I didn't start crying too. Instead, I was laughing so hard I thought onlookers would think I was a nut.

People driving their cars by our house slowed down and stared. Children playing in the street stopped what they were doing to come and look at the spectacle unfolding on our side yard. By this point, about 15 minutes had passed and I'm thinking it's OK because Charlie will be home at any moment to help me get them back in the house. I honestly don't think I could have rounded them all up - because although I can hold two babies ... what am I going to do with the third? Drag them in by their "harness"?? Minutes start ticking by. No Charlie. I look up and see our neighbor, Sydney, who lives on the corner adjacent to our house standing in her yard - arms full of mail - giggling at us. I shouted up to her "I thought it would be easier then this!" She just nodded and I yelled "They didn't cost very much, thankfully. I doubt I'll ever do this again." She nodded again and I added "Hopefully, Charlie will be home soon to help me get them back in the barn." I'm glad she decided to stick around - because it took Charlie another 10 minutes to get home. Had it not been for Sydney, I never would've known he'd arrived. He'd driven his car around the other side of the house and parked in the driveway. Sydney, in a position where she could see both of us, let Charlie know he needed to come help me.

Charlie just looked at me in disbelief when he walked around the side. He assessed the situation and said "What were you THINKING?!" Even with his help ... it took another 10 minutes to get the kids inside. I've been wondering since then ... how long would we have been out there - completely trapped - before I got any help? Sure, Sydney might have lent a hand - but I could tell from her expression... she was afraid to get too close. If I wasn't in the house when Charlie came home, he would have wrongly assumed I'd taken the kids for a walk (in the stroller) and been fine. Since I didn't have a cell phone with me, I might have been stuck out there a long, long time. At what point would he have come to look for me? Or - would he have said "Ah, a nice quiet house - all to myself. I'm going to sit back on this beautiful Friday night and drink a beer." Heck, that's what I would have done!!!

What's a real crack up is that I had all these delusions of grandeur for how these safety harnesses were going to simplify my life. I actually thought that I'd be able to take the dogs AND the babies, for a walk around the block. I never would've imagined that I would get stuck for almost 30 minutes in the side yard. With all this energy we spent, we never even left our property boundary.

Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of this fiasco for the blog. But, here is a picture of me walking the babies and the dogs during one of our more successful outings ... along the side yard - where we were trapped, yesterday.

72-hours later ...(and the fate of the coffee table)

OK, OK ... they win. I know when I've been beat.

While I was at work, and using a wise tip from an "anonymous" on this blog (my mom) ... Charlie moved the coffee table away from the mantle. This meant that we were exposing the fireplace, one of our concern areas. The babies wasted no time opening the glass doors on the fireplace and climbing inside. Charlie, in desperation, duct taped the doors together. This did nothing. When our three babies put their minds to something and work together as a team ... they have the strength of a grown man.

The duct tape came off - the doors flew open - the babies climbed back in the fireplace. This has been dubbed their *new* play area. Charlie took the handles off the glass doors ... and now, the kids start smacking their toys against the glass. So, Charlie put them all to bed for a nap. Problem solved. He was only home with them for 1/2 the day ... I'd be home in a few minutes.

I come home. The problem is not solved, because the babies are starting to stir from their nap. So, I move the Little Tikes kitchen (courtesy of my sister Beth - I thank her everyday when I see it) in front of the fireplace. It blocks off the entire area very nicely. Charlie had moved the coffee table in to our front living room, but because the house is small to begin with - - it takes up the whole room and kills the feng shui we had going on. Plus, this is part of the "main drag" for ride on toys - - and the coffee table is a huge road block. I know the babies won't be happy.

So, I move the coffee table back in to the playroom. They can use it to roll their little cars around on, put their puzzles, on ... that kind of stuff. I suspect that they are also going to want to climb on it. I have mixed emotions about this. Part of me thinks that they are going to climb ANYWAY what does it matter? The other part of me thinks that:

1) when will I begin teaching them that it is not alright to climb on furniture, if not now? and...

2) I don't want them to get hurt. If we let them climb willy-nilly, I'm inviting disaster.

Sure enough, as soon as they are set loose in the playroom, they start climbing furniture. The first picture on this post is them within seconds of being put in the room. William and Carolyn were on the chair in a split second ... and boom - Elizabeth was on the coffee table. Once the other two saw Elizabeth on the coffee table - - they ran over and climbed on it, too. Here we go....

I was actually impressed that all three were able to get on and off of the table with relative ease. If I didn't know better I'd think they'd been practicing that maneuver all week. Oh wait - silly me, they have!!!

I was even more impressed with Elizabeth's ability to get on and off the table while holding lovey bunny. She's getting pretty attached to this little thing ... she didn't let him go the entire time she was up there.

They walked very carefully around the edge of the table, because I think they knew that one mis-step and they'd fall. We did have a couple spills. Elizabeth fell once and landed on her back - another time and landed on her tummy. Only the belly flop elicited a cry. William fell once on his back and laughed. Carolyn, ever so cautious, didn't fall at all.

I'm not sure what to do. People that have visited tell us "Get rid of the table and get a round one!" But, they'll climb on that, too. The chance of them getting hurt on an edge is decreased, but the chance of them falling off a round table and landing on their head still exists.

So here we are. Less than 72-hours after the saga of scrapping our plan to not use the word "NO" and dishing out our first spankings. All of this trauma to them - and to us - in an effort to keep our kids off the furniture.

We're losing this battle. Heck, we've already lost this battle. The flood gates have been open and three little monkeys are on the loose. That whole story of "monkey see, monkey do" couldn't be truer at our house. We've tried everything to keep them off the furniture - short of removing all the furniture from the house. We've tried "uh-huh", we've tried "NO!" ... we've even tried "kangaroo" ... "mongoose" ... "wildebeast" ... and "zebra". Nothing is working. Not getting down to their level and looking in their eyes - not repeatedly putting them down on the floor. Not even spankings. (Which we both feel bad about and have vowed not to repeat).

We are resigned to the fact that these actions are par for the course at this age. I guess we're OK with it since we don't have much of a choice. As soon as we think we've got stuff figured out, it changes again. And again. And again. Honestly - they weren't climbing on the furniture just 7 short days ago ... certainly not like THIS. I just hope and pray that we don't wind up in the ER because someone takes a nasty tumble. And ... if you have an issue with kids climbing on the furniture - - don't invite us to your house. At least not right now.

The Costco Challenge

Here's a riddle:

Q: What's crazier than going to Costco, by yourself, with a toddler?

A: Going to Costco with THREE toddlers, by yourself, in the RAIN.

That's not a very funny riddle. Although, it was a very funny experience. This is how it came about: We are going through a ridiculous amount of food these days. When I say ridiculous - I mean - we had to go out and buy a second refrigerator just to hold enough milk to get us through 2 days. On average, we go through 8 gallons of milk a week. That's 7 gallons for the babies ... and 1 gallon for Charlie & I. For some families, this might not seem like a lot ... but because we are still relatively new to this parenting stuff and rarely drank milk at all before kids ... we often wonder if it wouldn't be more cost effective to buy a cow.

Since we don't like to go to the store every day to buy more milk ... we decided that it was best to buy - in bulk - at America's favorite grocery warehouse. Aside from the convenience of buying in bulk - the savings are huge. A gallon of milk at the grocery store is $3.50. So, two gallons would be $7.00. A cost for 2 gallons of milk at Costco is $4.00 ... so, $2.00 a gallon. Over the course of a week, that's $10.50 in savings. Or, a 1/2 case of 82-count Pampers.

For whatever reason, I decided that we needed an outing. We'd been holed up in the house for what seems like an eternity since we've been sick ... our grocery supply was dwindling ... and we needed something fun to do. I should have checked the weather before I decided to go to Costco ... but that would have required preparation and planning ... and well, I thought I was well prepared and had a good plan - just by having a few clean diapers in my purse and a sense of adventure.

We get to Costco ... it is starting to drizzle ... and I am faced with the first puzzle of how I'm going to transport the groceries and the kids. The brilliant team of engineers - or whoever designs the carts for Costco - have already solved 2/3 of my problem. Several of the carts have room for TWO babies up front. Now, I just have to figure out what to do with the third. I search the inside of our van and find a shoulder strap from our bottle bag. Using my extremely limited MacGyver genius, I sit William inside the cart on a blanket and fasten the shoulder strap around his waist. Voila. Problem solved. At the last minute, I grabbed our camera from the car because I thought no one would believe me if I said I went to Costco ... by myself ... with our three kids. Besides, I thought photos would be a nice addition to the blog.

We make our way in to the store - the babies love the ride. We're happy, we're doing something productive, it's kind of gloomy ... a perfect day to stock up on food so we can hunker down when we're back at home. I pick up a few loaves of bread ... chicken ... loads of fresh fruit ... hummus ... our 8-gallons of milk ... laundry detergent ... ziploc bags ... a 3-pack of Pledge ... vitamins. I am stopped several times along the way by people that comment on my adorable "twins". When I point out that they are triplets it takes everyone a few moments to realize that there is a third baby ... partially buried under groceries, in the cart. Then they look at me with stunned silence and just shake their head. I don't know if I should feel offended, or flattered.

I make my way over and start perusing the baby clothes section for some 18-month fleece sleepers - - nada - - on to the cereal aisle. Around this time, as I'm loading the Cheerios and graham crackers in to our cart ... I get the first yelp from Elizabeth. Her time of having fun is drawing to a close, which translates to ... my "window of shopping opportunity" is coming to a rapid end. My mind starts thinking ... "what to do ... what to do ... almost done ... got to keep babies entertained." The yelping gets louder ... it's now a holler. William joins chorus ... Carolyn joins chorus ... I'm now pushing a cart filled to the brink with groceries and three screaming babies. People that were once looking at me with a big smile and saying "Oh, how PRECIOUS!" are now running the opposite direction. The thought crossed my mind to swing by the liquor aisle on my way to the audio-visual department so that while they watched BARNEY, I could guzzle Gin. But, if someone saw me - they might think I was being irresponsible.

My eyes are scanning the shelves and a heavenly light from above shines on my solution. I grab the largest bag of Famous Amos Chocolate Chip Cookies ever produced. Somewhere, in the back of my mind ... I vaguely remembered that I'd once promised myself never to feed our children processed sugar (aka: junk food). The slightest moment of hesitation passes before I dig in to the bag. Silly me ... that promise I'd made about not feeding our kids junk food came about the same time I promised myself I'd never say "NO" or spank. Making those kinds of promises ... are like vowing you'll never get wet when you fall in a pool. The babies have never had a chocolate chip cookie before. There is at first a hint of hesitation ... a look of confusion ... and then sheer joy washes across their faces as they shovel cookies in their little mouths. Happiness ensues, again.


Not sure how much longer I have before my stay-of-execution expires ... I rapidly make my way to the health and beauty aids ... grab a few tubes of toothpaste, boxes of dental floss, three pack of Q-Tips ... and make my way to the check-0ut. By this time - they've comsumed about 10 cookies ... I've consumed another 10. I load up all of our goodies on the conveyor belt - - pay the cashier - - and make my way out to the parking lot. The spitting rain that had started when I first went in to the store has turned in to a torrential downpour. I should have left the van at home and taken our Ark. I've got a grocery cart full of food and babies. Right about now, I'm really wishing that I had some Gin in there, too. The good news is - this was a Tuesday afternoon. The parking lot wasn't too full and the van was relatively close. I zoom over to the car and making a "risk assessment" decision - determine that it will do the babies more harm than the food, to get soaked. So, I quickly load all three of them in the car. I get all the food in the car ... I start the engine and look back at everyone, covered in chocolate and laughing hysterically.



I don't know if it was the sugar that had them on a high ... or me, completely drenched. Either way ... all's well that ends well. And, I've got pictures to prove it.

24-hours later ...

As I've been working today, my mind keeps getting sidetracked with the philosophy of discipline. Really, we hadn't even considered discipline a few months ago. Our kids weren't mobile. Less than a year ago, they were in their bouncy chairs or laying under the baby gym on the floor. They certainly weren't posing a risk to themselves, each other, or our material possessions.

We thought we had a long time before we'd need to be in a position to even consider discipline. I mean ... these were 3-pound babies in October of 2004. How much trouble could these little people cause? (SNORT!) All that changed in December, when our trio took their first hesitant steps. Since then ... as I've tried to colorfully illustrate in previous posts ... we are constantly attempting to predict their next move and have launched preemptive strikes before they get in to danger.

I'm typing this during my lunch hour ... and I can hear Charlie chasing someone around the back yard saying "uh-huh.... uh-huh.... uh-huh." It's funny that he's saying that, now. When I told him a couple weeks ago that we were striking "NO" from our vocabulary and replacing it with "uh-huh" he looked at me with a puzzled expression and said "No, NO?" to which I replied "Not NO, uh-huh." So he said "huh" and I said ... "it's uh-huh." It was hugely important that our grunts sounded the same. So, here we were on the same page. The kids would be hearing a consistent sound from both mom & dad. That was good. Yesterday, that was flipped upside down when Charlie heard me say "NO!" and he says "What happened to uh-huh"? And I told him that it wasn't working. The kids weren't listening. So, I started using NO. Funny thing is - that's not really working too great, either.

I was out of the house, this morning, at a business meeting. When I came home at lunch, Charlie informed me that he spanked William when he ... can you guess (???) ... climbed on top of the coffee table and pulled every last item off our mantle. Charlie had turned his back for a moment to put something in the kitchen and that's when the climbing started. As I was hearing this story, Charlie told me that he would NEVER revert to that kind of discipline again. Obviously, the punishment hurt the punisher more than the punishee. I smiled. "Never?" And he said "Uh-huh." I think what he meant to say was "Ah, huh." Anyway - the feeling of validation that I had yesterday that I'd taught our babies an important lesson about not climbing on the table ... is now gone, like dust in the wind. I feel somewhat deflated. Here I was thinking I had it all figured out. It seems that although the babies easily remember the new game of "peek-a-boo" that we taught them, they don't seem to remember that it's not OK to climb on the furniture. Go figure.

We really are trying to communicate with them in a positive way. When they do climb on the table ... or try to eat a snail ... or bite each other ... or whack each other ... we are making every effort to get down at their level - - look them in the eye and say "No jumping on the furniture, sit on your bum" or ... "Ick, we don't eat snails from the garden" ... or "Be gentle with your brother/sister/mother/father/dog ... no biting/hitting/pulling, etc." And once we make that connection - we'll thank them, give them a big smile, and move on to correcting the next baby that is has been inspired to eat an insect or ... whatever. And so it goes ... around and around.

The bigger lesson that I have learned is that maybe, just MAYBE ... they are too young for some kinds of discipline. I don't think that "NO" is a bad word to use ... provided you put it in context. "No climbing on the table. No biting, no hiting, no eating bugs." I really don't want to be the kind of parent that chases their child around yelling "No, No, No, No, NO!" That would undoubtedly make me more obnoxious then whatever it is they are doing.

Our kids are just learning about putting the round peg in the round hole. They are barely scratching the surface of cause and effect. We have to remind ourselves that they are still babies and they won't be this small, forever. Treasure this time. I'm definitely not in a rush for them to grow up. Quite the contrary ... I wish that they could stay little forever. Although, it would be nice if they could stay off the coffee table, too.

In the meantime, the coffee table is moving to a new location. To be determined...

What is wrong with the word "NO"?

I'm very lucky that I have a lot of friends with children - several with triplets - the same age as ours, going through much of the same "parenting" stuff that we're going through. I connect with these other parents - many whom I've never met - almost daily. We chat via e-mail, phone calls, internet bulletin boards, dinners and at playdates. We trade tips for the best new toys, sippy cups and finger foods. We swap ideas about how to wean a baby from a bottle, how to implement a schedule, how to educationally interact at playtime, and how to teach our kids discipline.

That last topic ... discipline ... is a tough one. One of the greatest challenges, I'm finding, in raising children, is teaching them right from wrong. It seems that there are so many *rules* for how to discipline your kids. If you mess it up ... you could really traumatize your child for the rest of their lives. Couple that with the fact that we have THREE kids going through the SAME stuff at the EXACT same time. It would be a lot easier to figure out what works and what doesn't work ... one kid at a time. So that by the point you are going through it with your next child - you have a clue. Yet, here we are, suppose to be teaching three little people right from wrong - on the fly. That's a lot of pressure to get it right the first time. Raising triplets is truly parenting by immersion.

Along the way of interacting with other parents - I pick up tid bits of what might work for us ... and what might not. I knew from the beginning that our babies would sleep in their own room - they would not - routinely, sleep with us. Sleep is extremely precious for us. If we are not well rested - nothing in our world is very happy or bright. The analogy of having three babies in bed with us ... well, we may as well sleep with a litter of puppies that squeak and squirm and roll all over the bed. I can guarantee we would not get a good night's sleep. When a baby is sick, we may bend the rules, but 99% of the time, our kids sleep in their own room. This doesn't make us better or lesser parents than those that choose to co-sleep, we just knew that co-sleeping wasn't going to be an option for us - especially not with triplets. Albeit a big one ... that was an easy choice for us because we were both on board with the decision.

Yet, as our babies are growing up ... we are finding it more and more necessary to correct them. And, in the quest for Charlie and I to stay on the "same sheet of music" in regards to discipline, it seems like we are constantly changing the rules for what we will - and will not do when it comes to parenting our children.


We are faced with situations every day where we need to provide guidance on their behavior. These are some real-life examples that have come up in the past 12-hours at our house:

It's right to sit on the couch ... it's wrong to jump up and down and fall off the back.

It's right to eat food on your highchair tray ... it's wrong to eat a snail in the backyard.

It's right to hand your sister a toy ... it's wrong to smack her in the head with it.

It's right to look at the pictures in a book ... it's wrong to rip out all the pages.

It's right to bite a cookie ... it's wrong to bite your brother.

From my communication with other parents, there are a few ways that I've learned I could handle these situations:

1) Correct the behavior and if it continues beyond one or two warnings - give them a quick slap on their hand or tush;

2) Correct the behavior and if it continues beyond one or two warnings - put them in their crib for a time-out, devoid of any blankets or toys;

3) Re-direct the child to something else, because at this *age* they don't understand discipline.

Depending upon the situation and severity ... I can either re-direct the child, give them a slap on their hand or tush, or put them in their crib for a time-out. Up until a couple weeks ago, scenario #3 worked great for us. But in the 14 days or so, I'm noticing that "redirection" isn't as charming as it once was. Unless Santa and his entire team of reindeer made a surprise appearance in our house ... I rarely can come up with a *redirection* that works to keep our children distracted once they have their minds set on something. So this begs a new question. How do you CORRECT a child, the correct way?

A long time ago (and again more recently), I followed a discussion where someone said they don't use the word "NO" with their kids. I remembered hearing this, before ... and I suppose since then, whenever our kids have gotten in to mischief, I stopped myself from using the word "NO", for fear it would cause some kind of emotional scarring. Instead - I'd make this guttural sound "uh-huh". It's not really a word, at least not an English word, because it's not in the dictionary. It dawned on me the other day that here I am striving to avoid baby talk like "ba-ba" and "wa-wa" and "wee-wee" and "poo-poo" ... and yet, I grunt at my kids when they are doing something wrong, because I'm afraid to use the word "NO".

I really see children as a reflection of their parents. If I see an obnoxious child ... I blame the parents. If the parent doesn't set limits and boundaries - who is suppose to? I hear about kids that are doing these outrageous things in school ... and I always wonder "Where are the parents? Don't they care?!" When I was a kid growing up, the one thing that usually kept me in line - was thinking "What would my mom say if she found out?" It was so important to me that I didn't disappoint her. That's not to say I didn't get in trouble - I did. I was a normal teenager. But, I could have gotten in to a lot worse trouble had my mom not always been in the back of my mind.

Maybe it seems like I'm getting away from the subject ... but the point is ... when do you start discipline - and how do you do it? Is there really a right way?? Is 17-months old too young to use the word "NO"? Is there a correct way to raise a child such that they are healthy and happy, they understand rules and boundaries, and have respect? What do I need to do, so that MY response to THEIR actions, will be in the back of their minds as they grow older ... a maternal conscience, of sorts?

Today, as Carolyn was trying to gnaw through the high voltage electric cable for our outdoor lighting, I surprised myself when I yelled out "NO!!" I equally surprised myself when I yelled out "NO!!" to William who grabbed a hold of lighter fluid that was just within his grasp next to the BBQ. Both of these situations put my babies safety in immediate peril and the first thing that came to mind was NO, not my guttural "uh-huh".

I, again, surprised myself when I yelled at both William and Elizabeth "NO CLIMBING ON FURNITURE!!" when I disappeared for all of two minutes to change Carolyn's diaper and found them perched, yet once again, on top of the coffee table pulling stuff off the mantle. The quick swat that I gave both of them on their rumps came about not from anger ... but because I had to get the point across that this is NOT ACCEPTABLE. They were startled. And then, they looked at me with big eyes and cried. I felt awful. But, I also felt validated because as the day progressed - they didn't attempt to climb on the table, again.

Did I do something wrong? Are my babies now afraid of me? More importantly ... am I now afraid of myself that I would be willing to use the forbidden word "NO" and spank my children? Gosh, I hope not. I hope that this doesn't wind them - or me - up in counseling. I truly hope that I'm teaching them they need to listen or there will be consequences. Isn't that part of my *job* as a parent? How many times do I grunt and redirect ... before I get down to parenting the way my mom did it? She'd say NO and she meant it. She was consistent and as necessary, she'd give me a swat. I don't condone spanking. But, I think that there are times - it's necessary. In my opinion, the anticipation of the spank was always worse than the spank itself.

We want to be the BEST possible parents we can be. We want to raise children that are happy and healthy in body and soul and confident in themselves and the world around them. We also want them to be well behaved and respectful. They are a reflection of us - after all. In the parenting department, we are striving for perfection ... we want to do everything right. And sometimes, that means letting your kids know when they've done something wrong.

It was just a matter of time ...

... she's our littlest one, Elizabeth. Yet, of the three ... she's the most mobile and in to the most mischief - by far. I suspect the only reason she hadn't toppled out of her crib yet is because she is such a little peanut and couldn't get her leg over the railing. Whatever the case ... Carolyn fell out of her crib at 9 months. William at 11 months. Elizabeth ... tonight ... at 17.5 months.

Tonight was a bit crazy, it was the kind of night I had a wierd suspicion something bad was going to go down. It didn't help matters that Charlie and I were on two totally different wavelengths. That's never a good thing....

I had Elizabeth in the kitchen sink giving her a bath. Carolyn and William were running around the family room. As soon as I pluck Elizabeth out of the sink and start getting her in her PJ's ... Charlie gets William ready and plops him in the sink. I immediately realize there is a problem. I've got my hands tied up with Elizabeth ... Charlie's got his hands tied up with William. Carolyn is a free bird. She wastes no time climbing on top of the coffee table. I have a partially clad child in one arm (Elizabeth) ... while I'm trying to get Carolyn off the coffee table with the other arm before she cracks her noggin.

I finish getting Elizabeth dressed ... put her in the family room ... and take over getting William dressed while Charlie gets Carolyn ready and plops her in the sink. (See, here, I should have said - - hold on ... I'll bathe Carolyn after I get William dressed. You stay on baby patrol. I was thinking it - the words just never formulated or were delivered in an auditory manner).

In the 15 seconds it took me to get William dried off and completely lathered in baby lotion ... Elizabeth decides to climb up on the coffee table and rip everything off the mantle.

What do I do?

I have to do something! I have a slippery 26-pound baby in one arm ... and I manage to grab Elizabeth by the arm. I can't quite reach her over the baby gate to lift her down ... so I have to step over the gate (with naked slippery baby) to get her. I'm praying that William doesn't decide to spring a leak here because that would just be a mess. I get Elizabeth off the table ... and I no sooner turn around - - she's back on it.

What do I do?

I yell at Charlie. Of course this is HIS fault! What was he thinking having his hands tied up with one baby while our most rambunctious is running around the family room completely free?! Of course this is also MY fault because I should have realized the error in our ways - that baby #3 was going to get in trouble while we were tied up with baby #1 and baby #2. If only I'd formulated my words ... I go back and holding slippery naked baby in one arm ... manage to get squirmy dressed baby off the coffee table with my other arm. I take Elizabeth in to the nursery and put her in her crib. Good. She's contained. Now, I can turn my attention back to slippery naked baby. I get William dressed - put him in his crib, and by this point, Charlie is finished with Carolyn - so I start getting her dressed. Easy cheesy. We're golden. I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Everyone is dressed. Everyone is tucked in to bed. Prayers, kisses, lullabye CD.

About 10 minutes after our bedtime ritual is complete ... I hear a loud noise. I can honestly say that as a parent, there's no more gut wrenching sound then "THUMP...... WAHHHHH!!!!!!!!" Your heart sinks to your shoes and you immediately wonder if a trip to the Emergency Room is in store. I run in to the nursery and realize that Elizabeth is not in her crib. The crying is coming from the floor. Sure enough, she is on her belly - on top of her lovey bunny - screaming. Obviously, when she dropped bunny out of her crib ... she felt compelled to go and get him back. My poor, poor baby. I snatch her up - walk out to the kitchen and tell Charlie - all three of them have now fallen out of their cribs. He misunderstands me, and runs in to the nursery thinking all three have fallen out RIGHT now. Thankfully - that didn't happen, tonight.

Elizabeth was really frightened and it took about 10 minutes to calm her down. I believe she is fine, other then a small scrape on her head, probably from where she landed. She has got the most amazing metabolism. She eats more than William and Carolyn - combined - yet she is 2 inches shorter than both of them ... and weighs 6 pounds less than William, 4 pounds less than Carolyn. This child is always on the go-go-go. She literally NEVER sits still. Yet, for only the second time that I can remember ... she fell asleep in my arms as I rocked her, tonight. While I was holding her and looking down at her little face - I was mesmerized by her beauty and perfection. Charlie grabbed the camera and took a few pictures because I want to always remember how she looked, sound asleep - and so peaceful. What was so awesome for me - is that as much as I loved holding and cuddling her in my arms tonight - that's exactly where she wanted to be, too. I enjoyed the moment so much, that it was hard for me to put her back in her crib.



Something tells me - she isn't going to try and climb out again ... at least not for a little while. I can only hope...

Our world has been flipped 180 degrees!

We're still in shock.

Charlie picked up a powerball ticket last night on the way home from work. We never play the lottery, but this past Christmas, Charlie bought lotto tickets as stocking stuffers. Needless to say, although we didn't win any money from those tickets - - we did win three free tickets. So, Charlie cashed in on them yesterday before they expired.

We wake up this morning and as we're watching the news ... up come the winning numbers, following the weather. The tickets were sitting on the kitchen counter. I don't know WHAT made me think to check the tickets ... but I did. And ... we won. WE WON THE LOTTERY. All 6 numbers match the 6 numbers on our ticket. We've checked and re-checked a thousand times.

The pot: $4,120,060.00

I don't know how much they'll take in taxes ... but even if it's 50%, that still makes us multi-millionaires!!!

Gotta run ... we're going shopping! :)

PS: !!!YAD SLOOF LIRPA

Three weeks and counting ...

... and there are still traces of sickness in our house.

We returned from our trip to Florida three weeks ago today ... Charlie came down sick on Saturday ... really sick on Sunday ... and by Monday, William was glued to me. Elizabeth had it Tuesday, Carolyn had it Wednesday. I caught it Thursday. All of us were feeling better by Friday and I thought we were through the worst of it. Friday night, I learned otherwise. William was up all night crying. I tried to sleep with him on the couch, but he'd cry with his eyes closed. The poor little guy. It was impossible for him to sleep - impossible for me to sleep. I suspected it was probably an ear infection. We scheduled an appointment with the "after-hours" Pediatrician for 9 AM with all three babies Saturday morning. My suspicion was confirmed. William had an ear infection - a double ear infection ... as did Elizabeth. Carolyn's ears looked clear, so the doctor gave us a prescription for Zithromax for W&E. I mention that we had the prescription for Zithromax because Elizabeth, had a horrendous allergic reaction to amoxocilin with her last ear infection in January. There's nothing worse then seeing your baby covered in hives. Here's a picture of that, for those who missed it.
Saturday night was a repeat of Friday night. Although, this time, it was Elizabeth up all night. Again, so was I. Apparently, the antibiotics take about 48-hours to "kick-in." By Sunday morning - everyone seemed to be feeling better. Although, after a short while ... Charlie started to complain that he might be taking a downward turn. What? There are "generations" to this bug?! At 6 PM on Sunday night, Carolyn fell asleep in her highchair. She never does this. Her temperature spiked 103 and she was lethargic. I gave her a dose of Tylenol, got her in her pj's and put her to bed. By 7 PM, I was feeling lethargic. Oh, oh....

Fast forward to this week. William and Elizabeth are back to themselves. Charlie is feeling much better. Carolyn is winning the war on what turned out to be a viral respiratory infection. Fortunately, she avoided an ear infection, all together. She's doing much better and remains happy - except for those times I go near her with a bulb syringe to clear out a stuffy nose. If the truth be told - everyone is doing better then me.

I'm still sick. It's been a solid two weeks. I've lost 11 pounds. I finally dragged my sorry self off to the doctor yesterday and he told me that I was acting like a dumb ass. I wasn't offended ... I had to agree with him. (edited to read: OK - this is killing me. See, this is how I have it entered in to my journal - but in actuality - he agreed with me. I don't want people thinking my doctor is rude and calls his patients bad names). He's the dad of 9-month old twins and a really nice guy. He's always managed to squeeze me in last minute, which was particularly important when I needed a prescription ... post haste for mastitis last year (on one, two, three occasions). Why it took me two (2) weeks to go see him, when every day I felt just as bad, if not worse than the day before ... is plain dumb. The reason that I was so apprehensive to go, is because I'm stubborn - like an ass. I thought that I'd be able to "beat" it by myself without getting on an antibiotic. Aside from which, when do I have TIME to go to the doctor?! The 48-hours aren't even up since I've started my prescription - and already - I can tell that the antibiotic I've been put on is zapping this nasty bug in it's dumb ass.

Nonetheless, this whole sickness thing has really got me thinking.

1. It's rotten to be sick.
2. It's even more rotten to have your spouse be sick at the same time you are sick.
3. Nothing is more rotten then when you, your spouse, and all of your babies are sick. At the same time.
4. When you're sick ... if you're not better within a few days, don't be a dumb ass. Go see the doctor. Chances are - there is something they can give you to make you better much faster then if you were trying to "fight" it on your own.
5. If we can put a man on the moon and check our e-mail from a blackberry ... WHY can we not come up for a cure to the common cold?
6. The advertisements on TV with sick people that take cold remedies and feel "good as new" are phooey. Those people aren't really sick. I think this is a bunch of false advertisement. Even when I didn't need an antibiotic to feel remotely human, I've spent a load of money on stuff to help me get through the day like the guy in the Sudafed commercial and sleep through the night like the lady in the Nyquil commercial ... and neither product worked the way I thought they would. Maybe it took the edge off - but I wasn't close to being right as rain. The only thing that really works as good as they say it will, are Puffs with Lotion.
7. I am scared to death to participate in playdates because I don't want to go through #1, #2 or #3 again.

This is only the third time our kids have been sick. The first time happened a few days after their 1-year birthday party. It's a no brainer that they got sick because there were sick kids at our house. The second time they got sick, was when a friend came over ... with her sick little girl ... for a playdate. Whamo. Within three days, we had runny noses, fevers and fussiness. I'm at the point where I never want to leave our house our yard again. At least not until our kids can blow their own noses.

Here's the problem. EVENTUALLY, we have to expose our kids to the outside world and not be such a bunch of germphobes. People have told me that your child being sick only helps to boost their immune system. I don't get it. That makes NO sense to me. I was sick a lot as a kid ... and I still get sick now. If I didn't get sick now, then I would agree that maybe this "logic" holds merit ... but it doesn't. Our pediatrician, who knows everything even told me so. He said that there is no reason to expose your kids to people that are sick - because all it is going to do, is get them sick, too. Unless it's something like Chicken Pox, that they get once and are then immune to - there is no limit on the number or severity, of colds and flus we can have in our lifetime.

So. I'm planning to ride out the rest of "cold" and "flu" season in our house. And when I do step outside, I will be wielding a can of Lysol and bottles of Purell. But even still ... something tells me that with every precaution I take ... we will be sick again. And when that happens ... I for one, will not be a dumb ass.

BUZZZzzz

That was the sound in our house ... just a short while ago ... a really loud BUZZ ... followed by zzzzzz. Oh, how we love the sound of sleeping babies. The quiet is heavenly.

But just a short while ago … it was a whirlwind of activity. A flurry of activity. They've been fed, they've had their bedtime bottles, and once they are lowered down from their highchairs they are super turbo charged. It's this pre-bedtime BURST of energy, that takes them tearing through the house ... running all over the place. I'm convinced that if we could bottle the energy of a toddler, we would solve the global fuel crisis. I'm chasing Elizabeth in to the back bedroom because she grabbed a hold of one of my knitting needles and is now waddling away from me at an impressive clip.

I see a reflection of myself in the window and hesitate. Surely - the window must be dirty. I can't look that frazzled. I go in to the bathroom to get a closer look in the mirror and I'm frightened by what I see. My hair is all over the place. Probably because Carolyn was trying to run her fingers through my locks the way I run my fingers through hers. I typically don't wear makeup during the day, but because I had a business meeting this morning, I put on a little "color." I now look like a warrior from "Last of the Mohicans". My mascara is running down my cheeks ... undoubtedly due to William giving me open mouth kisses all over my face when I came home this afternoon. Obviously, waterproof mascara isn't slobber proof, too. I look tattered. I look tired. I look confused. My wrinkle-resistant shirt is untucked and there are chunks of graham cracker mixed with ... prune juice (?) ... on my nice slacks. I come out of the bathroom to see Carolyn licking the bottom of my shoe that I had taken off, but not yet put in the closet (serves me right for moving too slow), William trying to pull my laptop out of my brief case, and Elizabeth has my $60.00 Talbots belt draped around her shoulders and is chewing one end. How in the world did she get my belt off of me without my knowing it...?


Where am I? How did I get here? Who are these children?

For those that don't know our story ... here's a little background. Charlie and I are managing all of the baby care on our own, without any outside help. I'm really proud of that accomplishment and our commitment to making *this* work. I typically work 2 days a week ... Charlie works 3 days a week. On the days that he works, I'm home ... on the days that I work, he's home. It's been a great arrangement and we are very fortunate to have good employers and flexible schedules. Even though Charlie and I happen to work for two different companies ... I rent an office space, within his office.

A few weeks ago - on the day that I was working (and hence, Charlie was home), one of his co-workers in passing said to me, "So today's Charlie's day off, huh?" I just stared at him and repeated ... "Charlie's day OFF? Do you understand that he is home, alone, with 3-17 month old toddlers? I don't really consider that a day OFF ... do you? It's actually the total opposite. Today is my day OFF." I've heard several people comment that they don't understand how I could go back to work after 1-year of maternity leave. Isn't it crazy for me, working a demanding, often times, high stress job? I chuckle. No job will ever seem demanding or high stress after my job of being a parent. NO JOB. Being a parent has undoubtedly been the best job of my life, the most rewarding, the most fulfilling. But also, the hardest. When people ask me how I could come back to the *stress* of corporate America ... I just tell them that it's like a little vacation for me. And, I believe it is.

Tonight, Charlie seems cool and collected. He's been home with them all day. He's prepared for this. I've noticed that the person who has been home all day, is not as fazed by the sudden burst of energy that comes on as bedtime approaches. Yet, the person who has been out *working* always gets blind sided by this commotion at night. I don't know why we aren't better prepared ... but for whatever reason ... those 8-hours away during the day make you kind of forget just how busy life is at home. I feel like an alien being dropped in to this mix of craziness.

The babies get rounded up - literally corralled - put in to their cribs ... we say a little prayer, give kisses goodnight and turn on their lullaby CD. We hear a lot of babbling ... they are talking to one another in a language that only they can understand. There's lots of laughing, squealing ... and the sound of what might be someone banging their head on the wall. More laughing ensues. After a few minutes, there is some crying. I walk in to the nursery, fully well anticipating that everything that was once in their cribs, is now on the floor. I'm not surprised by what I see. I pick up their blankets, pillows and stuffed animals - lay the babies back down - tuck them in and give them another round of kisses. There's some more babbling ... quieter now ... and then silence.

The last burst of baby energy has been absorbed. Whatever energy Charlie and I had to get us through this last hour, has been absorbed, too.

As I finish this post, I do so with the knowledge that our babies are now asleep for the night. Hopefully, I pray, the next time we see their bright little faces will be in 11-12 hours. Meanwhile, I don't why I didn't realize before children ... just how comfortable our couch is. At the end of a long day ... nay ... at the end of EVERY day ... there is no better feeling then collapsing on the couch with Charlie and saying aloud "Could we love them any more than we do?" No ... we couldn't love these babies any more than we do. But as much as we love them, we really love seeing them asleep. There is no better sight in the world to me - or satisfaction that we made it through another day. I can't think of a greater accomplishment in life, than that.

A Trip Down Memory Lane ...

Today is March 29, 2006. Two years ago today ... was my third embryo transfer, from our third round of IVF. During the first two IVF cycles (in October 2003 and December 2003), we had transferred four embryos each time. Because I was only 32 years old, had "textbook" embryos and "no known problems" most people gasp when they hear that. The potential for quadruplets definitely existed, but I suppose I never really was concerned about the thought of having multiples. I just wanted to get pregnant ... to be a mom, for Charlie to be a dad ... for us to have children and be a family. It had been such a long road paved with heartache, I needed it to end.

The night before our embryo transfer, was a Sunday. It was a beautiful, southern California spring evening. I remember that it had been such a gorgeous day, we decided to have a barbeque and eat dinner outside. As we sat on the back patio sipping our wine, we looked in to the beautiful twilight sky. It had been all over the news that the planets were in alignment and visible in the night sky. We pulled out our telescope - and sure enough - those planets that would have been visible to us on earth, were. We could make out Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn ... clear as day ... in a straight line across the sky.

There are a few times in my life when I've been filled with a peace that truly emanates through my whole body. If I had to guess, I would believe that it was God, literally holding me in His hands. That night, March 28, 2004 ... was one of those times. I had a feeling, deep in my soul ... that this third cycle, was going to be the one that made us parents. The planets aligned in the nightime sky, the love between Charlie and I, and the overwhelming feeling of peace, was epic.

The next morning, a Monday, we went to visit Dr. Smotrich and be reunited with our 3-day old embies. We decided that we would transfer four fresh embryos and two embryos that had been frozen from our cycle in December, for a total of six embryos. This might seem to be irresponsible and reckless ... but Dr. Smotrich knew that we were desperate. We had spent over $30,000 on treatment by this point and although I was willing to sell everything we had and mortgage our house to the hilt ... the emotional and physical burden was exhausting, bordering on excruciating. Since our two previous cycles with four embryos had not worked ... I wasn't overly concerned with transferring six.
This photo to the left is a picture of our six embryos on the day they were transferred back to me. I wish I knew who was who in this photo. I do know that the embryos to the top left and bottom right are the frozen embies from the December cycle. The four embryos in the middle are the fresh ones, from my March cycle. The pregnancy test was taken in April - a few days before my bloodwork (the doctors recommend you don't do this because you can get a false positive result), but I was really starting to feel "different." Once I saw the line appear - I was doubtful that it was correct ... but I also, began to wonder ... "What if they all decided to stick around?!" Anyway, I think it's a beautiful picture. The very first picture of my babies ... the little souls that have brought an immeasurable amount of love and joy in to our world. And finally, a feeling of completeness.

Even though two years have passed since my embryo transfer ... and we are coming up on the babies turning 18-months old, I still am in disbelief that I ever became pregnant in the first place. That I ever became a mom. When I look back on the challenges that we had to face to get to this "place" ... I don't think I'd change any of it. The struggles to become parents made us stronger. And since then, I feel like my story - and experience as a mom to triplets - have helped so many other people that are either struggling with infertility ... or facing the news that they have multiple babies on the way. Anyway you dice it ... I think God was holding me in His hands on March 28th. I could feel it then, and I can feel it now. This is a very special day for me, and for our family of five!

Fun with black & white photography ...

There are so many times precious moments escape me. My camera is no where when I need it. Today, I kept my camera on and near me all day. These are some of the photos that were captured of our day @ 17.5 months.

Baby Proofing ... Re-defined

Back in the day when I was pregnant, we received some plastic outlet covers at my baby shower. The little clear things that you put in to your sockets to prevent babies from sticking their fingers or toys in to for a nasty shock. Charlie wasted no time "baby proofing" the house with these outlet covers. I would get a kick-out of it because we'd have to take the cover off to plug in the vacuum. We didn't even have babies in the house ... but we felt very confident and satisfied that we had baby proofed our house, long before the babies were even born. What a bunch of responsible and well prepared parents we were.

Then the babies came home.

For the first few months, they existed only in the "larval" stage. They'd eat, sleep, cry and poop. There was no interaction beyond that. We were far from the day of needing to worry about them sticking their fingers or toys in to the electric outlets - although when they tried - we were prepared for them. They slowly started to emerge from this larval stage. They started to bring their tiny hands to their tiny mouths and we quickly realized that we needed to exercise caution to keep small things off the ground. Popcorn kernels, small candies, nails, bolts, screws ... were no longer safe - just laying around on the carpet. We became vigilant in our efforts to keep the floors immaculate.

The babies started rolling, crawling and becoming mobile. Plant pots needed to be moved, unless we wanted all the soil within the pot that they could reach, to wind up on the floor. Cords had to be tucked away behind couches - floor lamps had to be barricaded off by pieces of furniture so that little hands couldn't pull them over, on top of little bodies. Magazines and books were no longer safe on the floor, in racks or on low bookshelves. EVERYTHING needed to be moved to higher ground. Stuff on lower ground needed to be evaluated, too. We recognized that the rubber ends on a door stopper, if in the wrong *little* hands, could get lodged in a wind pipe. All the rubber door stopper end-things, came off and were stored away. (I hope I can remember where they were placed when it comes time to move ...?)

They became expert walkers - in no time flat. Suddenly, they were able to move around the house at warp speed ... in three different directions at once. They were able to get in to rooms, faster than we could close doors. I was amazed, the one time that I didn't get the bathroom door closed quickly enough - that a 20-pound being - could unravel an entire roll of toilet paper in less than 30-seconds. Every nook and cranny in the house, was explored by three, bound and determine toddlers. We bought a 14-foot gate to separate our family room (aka: playroom) from our kitchen, and invested in smaller, expandable gates that we could use to close off other areas. But, our house was their house, too ... and they weren't going to stay content in a closed space. Once my mother came to visit and introduced them to "life outside the gates" they no longer wanted to stay locked up. Isn't this what Grandmother's are suppose to do - push the limits so that their own kids aren't too uptight with their offspring? Don't all Grandmother's do this? So, eventually - we gave them more room to roam, with limits. Cabinets, cupboards and drawers had latches installed. What we couldn't latch closed - or barricade off - was duct taped shut. More and more stuff was moved higher up on to shelves or the mantle. Baby proofing was now, truly complete. We could breathe easy.

Contraire, Mon Fraire.

What I didn't bank on was that as our babies grew older ... they'd grow taller, too. Suddenly, the things that were once out of reach ... were within their grasp. Nickels, pennies and dimes on the edge of countertops or side tables, were fair game. The water dispenser on the refrigerator gave Carolyn a rude awakening when she depressed the lever and got a squirt of ice cold water in the face. She looked at me, sputtering, and broke in to a wail. I picked her up and turned to see William, do the exact same thing. Our little Elizabeth was just a hair short to reach the dispenser lever ... or I would have had three, instead of only two, soaked and befuddled babies, to console. Fortunately, our refrigerator has a "lock" position for the water. Otherwise, we'd have to duct tape that closed, too.

Another thing that I didn't consider is how good these babies would get at climbing. They can scramble on top of our coffee table (conveniently blocking the glass enclosed fireplace) with ease. From the top of the table, they can expertly reach fragile items - including vases, family photos, candles and ceramic items ... on our mantle. They can just as easily scale our couch with the finese of a mountaineer. Once on the couch, they are within arms reach of our floor lamps, pictures on the wall, window blinds, plants, and bookshelves. If there is a particular piece of furniture that they are struggling to summit ... they'll employ tools ... by rolling over their ride on toy for a "leg up" ... or, if push comes to shove - stand on one another. They'll give me a smile when I attempt to scold them, which leaves me at a complete loss for how to enforce rules - at this age. Because they don't *behave* our quest to keep the environment safe, is at the front of our minds.

I'm now of the mind set that our babyproofing is not complete. I don't know that it ever will be. Baby proofing will become "kid proofing" which will become "teenager proofing". I already can see that we need to put a higher bolt on the door - because eventually - they will figure out how to open door knobs and I don't want them wandering out of our house - without our knowledge. Just the thought of that makes me shaky. Knives must be stored in a safe location because soon enough, I know that they'll be able to climb on to the counters. Of course this isn't something that I want them to do - or will allow - but, if I'm plucking someone off the top of our television, or making triple sure that our front door is bolted - someone might figure out how to mount the counter. From this point on, I must buy medication that comes in a safety container that will require all of my strength and graduate school education to figure out how to open. And that's just the tip of the iceberg...

Our curious three, as we have lovingly dubbed them ... are constantly on the prowl for things to get in to. In a room full of age-appropriate toys ... they will be drawn to a shiny safety pin nestled in shag rug, like moths drawn to a flame. If there is something we don't want them to have ... their built in "curiosity" beacon will lead them to it. The precision, accuracy and efficiency with which they are drawn to a new object - particularly a shiny one - is profound.

I've heard that this is the age of "curiosity" for a toddler. It is an accurate description but it's also a really pleasant way of putting it. Yes, they are propelled to "seek" because they are curious. And perhaps that is why they also "destroy" ... just out of curiosity. Meanwhile, Charlie and I are on a mission to always stay one step ahead of these babies. Today, we are scanning the house for small items that they could choke on, things they could fall off of, and items that they'll just ruin. This will slowly evolve in to setting parent controls on the TV and computer, and monitoring who their friends are. It only recently dawned on me that from the moment our children took their first breath in the world, until the moment that I take my last breath ... I will always want to know where they are, what they are doing, who they are with ... and most importantly ... have the knowledge that they are safe. Babyproofing ... parentproofing. I'm going to go call my own mom just to say "hi" and let her know that I'm OK.

Hi, I'm new here ...

This is my first post ... on my third attempt ... at a blog. I never really liked the title of the first two blogs I created - and since I couldn't figure out how to change the titles - I'd just start anew. The good news is - I didn't waste too much time posting stuff on those first two blogs. The titles were nice ... but ... didn't really click with me. The first title I came up with was "A Day In The Life." The second title was "The Best Days Of Our Lives." Both of these titles are OK ... but didn't look right to me, when I strung it all together:

adayinthelife.blogspot.com.

thebestdaysofourlives.blogspot.com.

They were just too wordy ... and too ... not what I wanted. And since I think that the title of a blog is important, that takes me to my third, and hopefully, final blog.

My life thus far, has been one amazing trip. On top of that ... I happen to have some AMAZING TRIPS in my life. Those amazing trips are, of course, our triplets ... William, Elizabeth & Carolyn. It was one amazing trip to become parents in the first place ... and now life has become even more amazing since they've arrived.

I feel fairly confident that my blog title is not only a good play on words, but a pretty accurate reflection of me. I like what it symbolizes. It makes the most sense that everything finally came together for me, on my THIRD try. After all ... three's my lucky number, and it usually takes me three tries to get anything right.

I'm *borrowing* from a recent new blog I saw - - when the author commented that their blog was like an empty house. There's lots of decorating and filling of this space that I need to do ... and I'm excited to do it. Charlie told me that this is really art, because the stuff that I'm posting on this blog are my creations (in the form of thoughts and pictures). I like that description, Jen the artist. Since I'll be opening this up for people to explore ... I can imagine what an artist must feel like when sharing their art with the world. A dose of hesitation - a pinch of excitement - and a big scoop of hope that those that see your "work" will enjoy it as much as you do.