Transporting Triplets

When we found out that we were expecting triplets ... one of the very first things we started to do was research equipment for transporting three babies, simultaneously.

We quickly discovered that when transporting babies from Point A to Point B ... your options are severely limited when you add in a "Baby C" to the mix.

There are several challenges in finding a stroller to carry three babies. In general - triple strollers are:

1) Extremely rare. Not all baby stores carry them. Your best bet is the internet.

2) Special order. You'll never see one on a showroom floor, and most orders take >60 days.

3) Expensive, relative to 'other' strollers.

We spent several months during my pregnancy, researching our limited options and trying to decide what would be the most versatile stroller and wisest investment. These were the criteria we were looking for:

• Must be able to snap infant carrier / carseat in to;
  
• Must come with seats for when babies outgrow infant carriers;
  
• Must be durable to handle casual strolls around the mall and power walks on the beach;
• Must be easily disassembled for loading in to the car;
  
• Must have a good sunshade;
  
• Must be maneuverable (I use that term loosely), and last but not least...
  
• Must be capable of fitting through a narrow doorway, considering most doctors offices are designed with a single door.
  
• Bonus points if it has adequate space for our monster sized diaper bag.
• More bonus points if it has a cup holder.
  

Simple, right?

Only if you're the kind of person that has one pair of shoes in your closet that you can wear for every possible occasion.

What we learned was that in 2004, there was no such single stroller out there that would fit all of our needs. The in-line 3 seater Runabout didn't hold infant carriers and wouldn't easily fit in our car. A few companies manufacture triple joggers, but they are too wide for our neighborhood sidewalks, or - the front gate at the zoo.

To accommodate our stroller criteria, Charlie and I have spent a small fortune (think mortgage payment) on various combinations for transporting our bambinos. This is a run down of our stroller fleet:

Peg Perego Triplette. This is our "Limo" and it worked great when the babies were small because two infant carriers snapped in to the frame and the third rested comfortably between the two. This also worked well when they grew older because the plush reclining seats (with full sun canopies) can hold kids up to ~45 pounds (or total of ~135 pounds). This stroller breaks down pretty easily and can fit compactly in our car. The one drawback is that the Peg can be a bit tricky to maneuver and when loaded with kids, not even Juoko Aholo could push it across a sandy beach.

BOB Single. BOB is an acronym for "Beast of Burden" and I'd have to wager that this is one of the most durable baby strollers on the market. It has suspension system (i.e. shocks), like a mountain bike ... or car. As a result, the ride is totally smooth and it has a big canopy that provides excellent sun protection. It collapses very easily, maneuvers across deep sand like a charm, and has been a critical piece of baby equipment in this household. The only drawback is that it holds one baby. We have three.

BOB Dualie. Same stroller as above, but with two seats. This stroller can easily navigate through the checkout isle at the grocery store along with the gate at the zoo, but we can't get it through the front door to our house unless we remove the tires. That's a drawback. Another drawback is that it only holds two babies. We have three.

Most times, when we go for a walk with the kids by ourself ... we will take the BOB Dualie and stick the third baby in a backpack. The backpack works fine except for when the "rider" uses your sunglass strap as a rein, and pulls so hard that your glasses nearly snap in two. Or, when after walking 2-miles you realize that your "rider" has lost their hat, or more likely thrown it off, and you backtrack to find it ... sitting safely on your driveway.

Even with our fleet of strollers and associated baby backpacks, I am always on the look out for new and improved ways that we can transport all three babies - for hearty walks - by ourself. I'm also always on the look out for the perfect purse and diaper bag ... but that's a whole different story.

Recently, I spotted something that looked promising...

While we were at our Fourth of July parade, we eyed a Phantom wagon with a red-white-and blue clad flag-waving 2-year old rider. According to the "driver", their toddler loved this wagon. Apparently, the child always remained in a seated position, never attempted to climb out, and was perfectly obedient during the entire duration of each and every ride. If that wasn't enough ... it had a sunshade, a cushion, a cooler rack and it looked terribly cool.

Because the Phantom was specifically designed for the beach, with big fat tires and a bearing load capacity of 1,000 pounds - this wagon could do it all. Best yet ... it was something that we could use for years and years after the kids outgrew their stroller. This wagon could be used for a multitude of purposes ... and only a few of them involved transporting children.

Having thoroughly completed our due diligence rationalization to justify another large object in our garage ... within 3-days we were Phantom wagon owners.

Yesterday, I decided to load the kids up and take them for a walk around the neighborhood in our new wagon.

Just me and my peeps. The kids, a cooler filled with snacks and drinks ... and Molly.

Even with all the walks I do, I never realized just how mountainous of an area we live in. We were either going down a magnificently steep hill and I was trying desperately to keep the wagon from crushing me ... or ... we were going up a magnificently steep hill and I felt like I was in a Strongman truck pulling competition.

All the while, I was trying to keep all three of our kids from climbing out of the wagon - smacking each other in the head with their sippy cups - and leaving behind a trail of Nilla Wafers like Hansel and two little Gretels.

Poor Molly was jumping around like a kangaroo trying to stay away from the huge tires and was nearly choked by three kids that were playing a game of tug-of-war with her leash.

Despite the puddle of sweat I had melted in to after trekking 3-miles, and straining muscles I didn't even know I had ... we had a good time. The kids really enjoyed the ride and Molly and I both got in a great workout. I could maybe see doing this again. Maybe.

Whether I am pushing the monstrous Peg ... trekking with the dualie BOB and baby in a backpack ... bending down to pick them up as they collapse on their safety harnesses ... chasing them when they are "free" ... or lugging them around in a 1,000-pound bearing capacity wagon ... I'm getting in a serious cardio workout each time I step foot out of the house with the kids. I really don't need the gym, at all.

Truly. Who would have ever guessed that giving birth to triplets would be the catalyst for me getting in the best possible shape of my entire life?

If it wasn't for the wine and ice cream I indulge on at the end of the day ... I could be a bikini model. Maybe.

It's still Golden ... to me.

If my parents were still married, today would have been their 50-year wedding anniversary. After 7 children and 23 years, my mother and father divorced.

It was hard for me then ... it's hard for me now. Even after 27 years ... I have a suspicion that on some level - probably many levels - it's hard for them, too.

The death of a relationship, is just that. It's a death. The denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally ... acceptance are all par for the course. But even once you accept that the relationship is gone ... there might always be a lingering sadness for the loss.

I remember being an 8-year old and trying to rationalize why my parents were no longer together. As a 35-year old ... I understand.

I know that having a successful marriage means finding the right person - and being the right person.

I know that there are some things - completely outside of our control.

I know that those things we can't control - are the things that if we let them ... can control us.

I know that my parents did the absolute best job that they could ... and for that, I love them both, deeply.

The relationship that I have with each of my parents ... is priceless. I am so thankful for them and with all my heart - I hope that Charlie and I are as good of parents to our children - as my parents are to me.

Fifty years ago today, my parents were married. Today, I'm celebrating that in this big world, they found each other. I'm celebrating that even though they are no longer a couple ... they are healthy and happy in their own lives. I'm celebrating that together, they brought seven souls in to this world ... and those seven souls have gone on to bring an additional 18 souls in to this world.

Three of which, are our amazing triplets.

If there's a remote chance...

Once upon a time ... not very long ago, there was a naive mother who believed that she would never say "no" to her children ... she would never revert to spanking ... and she would never allow processed sugar to contaminate her children's tender palate.

This naive mother also believed that she would never turn on the television set with every hope in the entire universe, that an Australian group of men dancing in brightly colored shirts, would keep her children happily entertained for 45 10 minutes so that she could clean the kitchen and overcook something get dinner ready.

It's ludicrous interesting that that just a few short months ago, I swore up and down and around the globe I'd never do any of those things. Yet now, a mere 120 days (plus or minus a few) later:

• I say "No-No-No!" on average 2,000,000 times a day;
  
• I pass out at least three "swats" a week when someone is standing on the kitchen table trying to reach a brownie with chocolate frosting for the umpteenth time that hour;
• I hand out brownies with chocolate frosting for a snack ... AND,
  
• I look forward, with great anticipation, to "The Wiggles" hour.

That's right ... all the things I said I'd never do.

Sometimes, I do them all in one day.

Sometimes, I do them all in one hour.

Before noon.

But, there's a good reason. Our kids have unequivocally approached Hurricane Level II. When I look back to my conversation with our Pediatrician this past spring, I realize now that when I expressed concern over our "rambunctious" babies ... at the time, they were only at a "Tropical Storm" categorization. They hadn't really reached the Hurricane level, at all. My Pediatrician knew this. Not only does he care for children, he has a few of his own and he was fully aware that the "issues" I was fretting about, were peanuts. At the time, my babies were just barely walking. They certainly weren't running.

These days, I know what a hurricane feels like. The best image to conjure this sensation, is imagine barreling down a very steep, very slippery slope - towards a very busy road - horribly out of control. And you've got a leg cramp. And a migraine. And you're really hungry because you haven't had an opportunity to eat for several hours. And if you stand still for too long, there is a good chance, your pants will wind up around your ankles because it's too hot to wear overalls. And in the midst of this, a brand new glass from your 12 piece set, was shattered in a million little pieces, by one of three little "tornadoes" that make up this hurricane - while another tornado is running across the room with a pair of ... scissors?? ... SCISSORS!! ... in her mouth ... while the third tornado has figured out how to unlock your telephone and is attempting to call someone in Peru.

Suffice to say ... with three tornadoes toddlers in the house ... I have found that television, when used at the appropriate time and in moderation, is a gift sent straight from heaven directly in to our living room.

Our dependence on interest in television began when the babies were about 4 months old. It became obvious that between the hours of 7 AM to 7 PM 4-5 PM, the sound level in our house increased by approximately 100 decibels. Once you get over 100 decibels on a consistent basis ... OSHA recommends that you wear hearing protection. Provided you would like to hear your child's name called at their highschool graduation.

In those early days, we relied heavily on Baby Einstein videos. For a blessed 30-minutes each and every day ... our babies would be quiet sit in their bouncy chairs with thier little eyes fixated on spinning tops and puppet shows.

As the babies grew older, we introduced them to Teletubbies. All it took was me saying aloud "It's time for Teletubbies!" and the kids would stop their fighting and whining drop what they were doing, and flock to the television. I truly believe the Teletubbies are a large part of the reason our babies were able to expertly say and wave "bye-bye" at 10-months old.

We've caught Sesame Street here and there, but because it usually starts just as the kids are going down for their nap, they don't know Elmo from Cookie Monster. Ernie from Bert. Oscar from Big Bird.

It came to be that whatever show the babies were watching - I would watch, too. Sometimes, I'd catch the show while I'd be cleaning up the room they had just destroyed or, I'd actually sit down and watch it with them - while all three would clamor to sit on my lap.

After watching the Teletubbies for about two months, Charlie and I both came to the conclusion that whoever was responsible for the creation and production of that show - were on some serious, and most likely, illicit drugs. We had this realization regarding the wacked out Teletubbies, just about the same time we found "The Wiggles".

In my opinion, all you need to have a successful band, are four guys with dark hair and a British-sounding accent. It will certainly help if one or two of the guys can play the guitar, and if all of them can carry a tune. The thing about "The Wiggles" - much like "The Beatles" - is that they really can sing quite well. Even though "The Wiggles" are considered "children's music" the lyrics aren't too bad. When you think of it, "Driving a Big Red Car" is not nearly as far fetched as "Living in a Yellow Submarine."

What I've noticed is that if I so much as reach for the remote control, our kids run and grab loveys and dive bomb their couch. They will remain seated just until the band starts playing, and then within moments, all three of them are up, with their little arms waving and little legs kicking - all around the living room.

There is no doubt ... our toddlers are wiggling to "The Wiggles" and it is absolutely hysterical.

At our house, each and every night ... I can guarantee that in the 30-minutes before dinner time, our children are all-out laughing and wiggling to "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport!" I can also guarantee that between the hours of 8 PM and 11 PM ... Charlie and I can't stop singing "Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport!" We are so enamored with this song ... we're seriously considering the purchase of a wobble board.

What I'm getting at ... is that it's not just the kids who are hooked on "The Wiggles".

I'm not ashamed of our addiction to this children's band. But, I was a little surprised when I was at the store recently, by myself, and a woman at the deli counter asked me "Ah, I'll bet you have a toddler at home?" I gave her a blank stare and said "Actually, I have three. How did you know? Can you hear them?!?" And she replied "I figured you must since you know all the words to 'Henry the Octopus'!!"

Yep, that would be a dead give away. But "Dorothy the Dinosaur" on our iPod would be a good indication, too.

soul food: looking for religion

In our 12-years of marriage, we have not yet found a church that we feel comfortable joining.

The first 10-years or so of my life, I was raised Catholic. But then when my parents divorced, my immediate family (in large part) went AWOL from the Catholic Church ... and my mother and I landed at the Unitarian church.

Growing up, Charlie never went to church. Although, he does have memories of eating little "crackers" during a brief stint at a Catholic school in Santa Barbara.

During my college years, I had stopped attending church, so it wasn't something that I really missed. But when Charlie and I were engaged - we had an important decision to make regarding where we would be married. We opted for the First Parish Church in Concord, Massachusetts. Since I had been born in Concord - lived in Concord - had a large portion of my family still living in or near Concord - and had attended the Unitarian Church during my "formative years" ... this beautiful church was a perfect choice.

Since we've been married and particularly since we've had children, I have felt an overwhelming desire to go back to church. Last summer, when the babies were 10-months old, we returned to the First Parish Church and had them Dedicated. It was a beautiful ceremony and it was an awesome experience for both Charlie and I ... revisiting the 230-year old church that was once home to Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Louisa May Alcott, Nathaniel Hawthorne and a host of other famous transcendentalists.

I think that the reason I feel such a need - now more than ever - to find a church "home" is because I see the importance of being surrounded by a positive community, particularly since our family is so far away. My expectation is that in attending church with regularity - it will help Charlie and I grow closer in our marriage ... and it will also help to provide us a better parenting 'road map' as our children grow.

Church is also a wonderful place to recruit babysitters.

On our voyage of finding the *right* church, we have visited just about every kind of church imaginable. The churches that we visited were either too far away, too pushy, too extreme, non-welcoming ... or ... we didn't really "fit". And since I feel the need to be completely honest, I'll add that the act of tithing 10% of our income, right-of-the-bat, is a tough pill to swallow. Especially for Charlie.

For the most part, I really enjoy going to church. Whenever I hear a good sermon - or sing hymns, I almost always cry. There are times when I'm in church and I feel so moved by the experience of being there, the words that are being spoken, the songs that are being sung ... that I'm convinced my very soul is being touched by God. When you have the right "Minister" (Reverend, Priest, Father, Pastor, Rabbi, Monk, Bishop, Swami, Roshi, Sensei) deliver the message - it's a powerful feeling. Even though Charlie didn't attend church while he was growing up ... during one of the services I dragged him to we attended before children, he looked at me and whispered "Jen! I get it!!"

When our triplets came home from the hospital the week of Thanksgiving, a neighborhood church adopted us. One of their members, a fellow triplet mom, remembered the difficulties in having three premature newborns at home. Unbeknownst to us, she took our name back to the pastoral committee and asked what her church could do to help.

For six weeks, someone came by twice a week - bringing a home cooked meal. In addition, once a week, someone came by to cut our grass. They brought us a huge food basket filled with everything necessary to make a Thanksgiving Dinner ... including a $20.00 Butterball gift certificate. What really makes this story impressive is that we didn't even belong to the church ... these people were complete strangers to us.

It was/is our opinion, that any church willing to reach out to absolute strangers with the kindness they had shown to us, was definitely a church worthy of closer investigation. Once our babies were a "little older", Charlie and I promised each other we'd attend a service at this church, and see if maybe we could finally find a "fit."

The first time we attended church, the babies were 13-months old. We sat in the cry room the whole time and caught an "Amen" at the end of the service.

The second time we attended church, the babies were 15-months old. We sat in the cry room the whole time and didn't catch anything. We didn't even realize the service was over until someone came in and started cleaning the room.

The third time we attended church, the babies were 17-months old. We put them in the nursery and ran in to the chapel? sanctuary? room with all the chairs where you sit and listen to the sermon, clutching the "beeper" they provided us, should in the off chance, they need to summon us. Less than seven minutes in to the sermon, the beeper lit up and started vibrating. For a brief moment, I forgot we had triplets in the nursery. I was thinking that maybe our table was finally ready. The rest of the sermon was spent in the cry room with William. And then, Carolyn - another seven minutes later. Elizabeth was happy as a clam playing in the nursery the whole time. Three days later - everyone was sick.

The fourth time we attended church - the babies were 20-months old. I went by myself, and stayed the whole time in the cry room, where I was armed with a huge box of Goldfish crackers. I made it through "Amazing Grace" and then thought "What kind of FOOL goes to church by themselves with 3-20 month olds and 3,000 bright orange little crackers that are being crushed all over the floor?!"

Obviously, a fool that is in dire need of God.

Because it's been several months since Charlie and I have attended church together, we decided to drop everything we were doing, dress the kids up in something other than a diaper and a t-shirt and force ourselves to put on something more than a pair of shorts and a bathing suit make an effort to go this past Saturday.

One of the things that attracts us to this particular church - aside from the kindness they demonstrated when we had newborn triplets - is that they have services on Saturday at 4:30 PM. Because this is a time that causes the least amount of impact to our schedule, it is usually the time that we attempt going ... the previous four times we'd actually gone.

This past Saturday - the church was having a picnic after the service which means we didn't have to rush home and prepare dinner for three starved kids and then clean up the disaster they left behind, and this was just the motivation we needed to drop everything we were doing, dress the kids up in something other than a diaper and a t-shirt and force ourselves to put on something more than a pair of shorts and a bathing suit get out and meet more people in our community.

I'm not sure what exactly we were thinking ... but we decided to leave both the stroller AND our triplet harnesses at home. I guess we figured that if we'll be at church, we'll be surrounded by positive energy, helpful people, and surely in the House of God - our children will stick with us.

Boy were we wrong. In fact, I don't think we've ever been so wrong.

We sat out the service in the cry room with Carolyn. There was no way - she would have anything to do with being left behind. Fortunately, William and Elizabeth were perfectly content playing in the church nursery, so it was very nice to have one-on-one time with one of our children.

While Carolyn took out every last item from my purse and chatted it up on my cell phone ... Charlie and I were able to listen to an entire sermon on the importance of building friendships. People were encouraged to introduce themselves and talk to the worshippers seated next to them. All around us, we could see people looking around the room, smiling at one another - identifying all the potential new friends that they were going to make at the picnic following the service. We listened to awesome music and at the end of 55 minutes, we felt spiritually rejuvenated.

We wandered back to the nursery to pick up William and Elizabeth and headed outside for the picnic. While I took Carolyn through the food line - Charlie kept William and Elizabeth entertained. Once I had a plate piled high with all kinds of food I incorrectly assumed would keep the kids by my side, Charlie left me alone with all three toddlers - while he went through the food line.

That's when all hell broke loose. Elizabeth went left. Carolyn went right. William took off running straight ahead ... while I stood by my little white fold-up chair pleading "Who wants some watermelon!?!"

Here's a tip... not a single one of my kids.

Not. A. One.

The church is located on the top of a very steep (45 degree angle) hill, which is covered with ice plant. There was no fence at the top, or the bottom of this big hill. Which was very unfortunate because at the bottom of this big hill, is a very busy road. (Because I neglected to bring my camera on Saturday, I drove past the church again today, with the sole purpose of snapping off a photo of the big hill.)

As I stood there with a plate full of fruit, I watched with horror while two of my three toddlers, galloped down the hill. Once they started running, the forward momentum was so great, they couldn't stop and their little arms were frozen above their heads as they plummeted. I flung my plate of watermelon (cantaloupe, fancy little grapes, macaroni, rice, BBQ ribs and corn) high in the air and quickly spotting the third toddler trying to collapse a folding chair (with a plate of food on it) and convincing myself they'd be fine for the time it took me to perform a rescue, took off galloping down the hill after my other two children.

I can't remember who it was that was trying to collapse the chair ... or which two kids were running down the hill. It's just a blur of little people - moving much too quickly.

Here in California, ice plant is something that is used as a slope stabilizer. It takes root and grows extremely fast - so it works well to minimize soil run-off. Although this succulent plant does a fine job stabilizing slopes - it doesn't provide the soundest footing. Better stated - I'd have better luck staying upright galloping down a hill covered in butter.

I instantly realized that I was going to fall down once I stepped foot on the ice plant, so relying on my years of experience wiping out with downhill skiing ... I pointed myself in the direction I wanted to go, and with arms flailing for balance - toppled down the hill. Only by the Grace of God was I able to stay upright and not completely crush my 27-pound children beneath me. I grabbed both of them by their arms, before they crashed on to the sidewalk, and then turned and slid my way back up the hill.

When I arrived at the top covered in sweat and barely able to breathe, I noticed that the third baby was still attempting to collapse a folding chair, and Charlie was only mid-way through the food line. I sat down on my chair, picked up the food off the ground that had been tossed in the air with one hand - held on to Carolyn with the other hand - and with one foot squarely on William's little shoe, another foot squarely on Elizabeth's little shoe - I picked the food off the plate with my mouth, and flipped it in to their little open mouths. Like a mother bird, feeding her chicks.

Not really. But it wouldn't surprise you, would it?

After what seemed like an eternity - Charlie finally made his way back to us. I think a total of three minutes had lapsed. Feeling like the two of "us" could manage the three of "them" ... I released my death grip. The kids immediately took off running, again.

Elizabeth made a beeline for an absolute stranger's plate, which she started hungrily grabbing food off of .... while Carolyn and William made a beeline for the drink station and started shoveling ice chips from the cooler in to their mouths.

Less than five minutes in to this ordeal, Charlie and I decided to cut our losses and leave immediately. We were absolute fools to attempt an outdoor picnic with 2 adults and 3-21 month olds... sans baby stroller and safety harnesses. This is the kind of maneuver that gives parenting toddler triplets a bad name and makes mom and dad desperately wish that they didn't have to wait another two hours before they could start drinking.

We rounded up the kids and made our way out. As we were walking back to the parking lot, the kids started frantically waving and shouting "bye-bye" to everyone. All the people that we had been eyeing during the service with the hopes that they would be our newest friends, just smiled at us and said "Oh, how adorable! Gosh, you really have your hands full ... don't you?"

We didn't catch a single name. Not a single new friend. Not a single potential babysitter. But we did hear a few people call out "I'll be praying for you!"

That's nice. We need all the prayers we can get ... considering we're planning to go back to church again ... next weekend.

"...And they all lived happily ever after"

The article I have written below (entitled ".... And they all lived happily ever after" appeared across the entire front page of 'The Beacon' (Massachusetts newspaper) on August 11, 1994 ... 5 days after Charlie and I were wed.

I would have posted a link to the article, but unfortunately, The Beacon's online archives don't go back that far. I bought ~100 of the newspapers, and had one of them framed. The article is hanging in our hallway - and almost all the visitors to our home (that weren't at our wedding) who read it ... don't believe it's true.

Trust me. It is.



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

"The added sparkle at Jennifer's wedding on Saturday might have been the ring on her finger. Or a gleam of relief in the eye of the bridegroom William Charles, who lost that ring - along with his own - while running an errand in Acton the week before.

A frantic William Charles called this newspaper, August 2 as the days ticked down to the cermony. He knew that he had put the velvet bag containing $5,000.00 worth of gold and diamond rings in his pocket before he set out to pick up his fiancee's sister at her apartment on Great Road. But somewhere along the way - at the apartment, or at the Acton town dump, where they made a brief stop - the bag vanished.

While he checked and rechecked his car, his pockets and the house where he was staying, Acton resident John Paine spotted a wet and shapeless cloth bag at the town dump.

"Something just caught my eye," he said. "A little gray jeweler's bag. I opened it just enough to see a flash of gold and thought it might be some cheap trinket, so I threw it on the front seat."

Back home, the Church Street resident opened the bag and found three gold rings - including a man's wedding band and two women's rings set with diamonds. They still flaunted price tags that totaled $5,000.00.

"My first thought was, they must be hot", Paine said.

He tried to figure out the name of the jeweler from the lettering on the bag, making out a K and a few other letters. But a check of the local phone book didn't offer any likely possibilities. It turned out the rings were from a shop named Kebadjian Brothers on Washington Street in Boston.

His wife suggested he check the local newspaper and wondered what to do if no one turned up to claim them. "Then you can wear 'em, I told her," Paine said with a laugh.

Found valuables may ultimately belong to their finders, according to Raymond Gray, a detective with the Acton Police Department.

"You may keep them for a year, and you have to advertise what you have found," Gray said. Then, if no one can identify what has been found, the rule of "finders keepers" prevails.

But all Paine wanted to do was find the rightful owner.

"It wasn't my property," he said. "What am I going to do - hock 'em?"

He waited until Thursday, when the Beacon is published, and learned from his next door neighbor that the front page included an article about a couple searching for lost wedding rings. He called the number published in the article and the rings were back in William Charles' pocket that day.

"It was wonderful the way it turned out, it was just wonderful," said the mother of the bride. And then - as if the ring episode had absorbed all possible bad luck - the heat wave broke, the rain cleared, the ceremony went forward without a hitch.

"It all just went like clockwork," said the mother of the bride. "Everything was just perfect and they went happily off for a honeymoon on Nantucket."

"I felt like it was my contribution to the wedding," said Paine, who did have one last piece of advice for William Charles.

"When he came by to pick up the rings on Thursday, he told me he was going to his bachelor's party that night. I told him 'You drive home and put those rings in a safe place first. Then go to the bachelor's party."

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

Bride - Yours truly.

Bridegroom - My Charlie.

Happily Ever After?

You bet. 12-years and counting ...

Happy Anniversary MG - I love you with all my heart. I'm sorry I didn't buy you a card. Hopefully, this makes up for it. :o) <--- that's a smiley face. Wink, wink.

Responding to Criticism

I once read that people shouldn't waste time responding to their critics. It sounds good enough on the surface ... but it's really a lot harder said than done. Believe me ... I have tried.

Now, I'm not talking about 'constructive criticism'. When criticism is intended to better a person or situation, and is delivered in the spirit of kindness, I have no problem.

However, there also exists 'negative criticism.' This is the kind of criticism that does nothing to "improve" a situation - and it's intent is to cause hurt. It is these critics that I probably ought not waste my time responding to.

But like I said ... I'm not too good at that.

Today during my late lunch hour ... I was checking my e-mail and as is always the case when I receive e-mail from my blog ... was excited to see what kind of comment someone left for me. When I opened the e-mail ... I first felt a wave of shock ... then embarrassment ... then mortification ... and then ... I was angry.

I logged on to my blog, deleted the comment, and stewed over what I perceived to be, negative criticism for the rest of the afternoon next 5-minutes.

Charlie and I went for a walk this evening and I blabbed on and on talked to him in great depth about the first negative comment I had ever received on my blog. I mulled over what it could mean. Was it possible that somebody had tapped in to my brain and accessed some of the very things I subconsciously torment myself over?

Could it be?

Was it me??

Did I unknowingly log on ... leave myself a comment ... cleanse my mind of the memory ... only to be surprised moments later when I received an e-mail message that someone had left me a comment on my blog?

Is that possible???

Charlie convinced me it was unlikely.

After some soul searching, I've decided to post the comment and examine it in it's entirety. The anonymous person who took the time to post, obviously felt compelled to express their opinion ... so I am going to try and address the cynicism and answer the questions that they have posed.

This comment was left in response to my "Daddy Duty" post, from yesterday.

"Sounds like Daddy is doing more work then mommy?? When does daddy get a break??? I think parenting should be 50/50. This is what happens when you get IV!!! Good luck and we will see how long your marriage lasts!!! Where's the sex???"

Let's start with the first sentence:

Anonymous Commenter Says: "Sounds like Daddy is doing more work then Mommy??"

Jen3 Says: (We'll ignore the fact that "then" should be spelled "than"). I suppose it could seem from my post that Daddy is in fact doing more work than Mommy. But, I think that it is also important to note that Mommy was not sitting on her duff all week watching soap operas. Alas, that would be nice, provided I enjoyed soap operas.

Rather, Mommy was leaving the house every morning at 6:30 AM, and returning home every evening at 6:30 PM ... with only 30-minutes to enjoy her children before they went to bed for the night and she opened her requisite bottle of wine to enjoy with Daddy while watching the sun set.

For those 12-hours that Mommy was away, she was participating in very important (as in multi-million dollar important) business meetings. After having been a full-time Stay At Home Mom for the first year of our children's lives ... I wouldn't dare suggest that being at "work" is any more difficult than being at "home." However. The importance of insurance coverage - which is supplied through my employer - and bringing home a paycheck to support our family of five (5) ... cannot be overstated. Especially when you consider that three (3) members of our family go through an average of 135 diapers a week.

We use to only go through 84 diapers a week. But since our kids have become aware of when they are going "pee-pee" they insist we change their diaper for every milliliter of "pee" that is released. Even with the addition of toddler training pants whenever we are outside playing in the yard ... our diaper count has gone up almost 2-fold.

But I digress.

What really struck me about this comment is that I have on more than one occasion, almost been successful at convincing myself I don't do enough around the house. But, that's only because my husband is amazing and does a lot to contribute to our household.

One hundred years ago ... heck ... fifty years ago ... women were home with their children. These women did everything domestic related, including, raising a family ... by themselves. They didn't even have the benefit of disposable diapers.

Thank God in Heaven above ... those days are past.

I would be absolutely flat on my ass if I was entirely responsible for raising three toddlers ... all by myself ... hand washing 135 diapers a week ... and keeping up a house in the midst of it all. Are you kidding me?! It would take a lot more than a bottle of wine to get me through the night. Elephant tranquilizers ... that's what I'm talking about.

Now a days ... many women are career women. But, they are also moms. This is where it gets very challenging. At least for me. Because I think that as women, we have this built in expectation ... on ourselves ... that we can do it all. If for some reason we can't hold it all together (i.e. have a perfect house, raise perfect children, cook perfect food, have perfect sex 7 nights a week, maintain a perfect figure, do volunteer work, attend church, participate in play dates, read books, knit blankets, update our blog) we are deficient - on some level. What's really awful is that this is a self-induced deficiency.

Better stated - we are our own worst critics.

The problem is ... many women compare themselves to this "prototype" of "Super Mom" or "Super Woman" that doesn't really exist. And if she does exist ... I guarantee, she is a walking time bomb who gets a shot of elephant tranquilizers in her hip, every night before bed.

In our home, Charlie does primarily all of the cooking and laundry. Although I may not write about it much on my blog, the reality is I have been known to cook and do a load of laundry. Sometimes - I'll even cook while I'm washing clothes. That ability to do more than one thing at once is called "multi-tasking" and I'm getting pretty damn good at it. Minus the time I almost caught our house on fire making toast, and the time I turned all of Charlie's white undergarments pink ... I navigate around a toaster oven, washer and dryer with ease.

Quite honestly, I wish I knew the gender of the anonymous commenter. I'm really interested to know if it is a sexist male that thinks I should be doing more work around the house ... or ... if it is a jealous female that thinks my husband is doing too much work around the house.

Anonymous Commenter Says: When does daddy get a break???

Jen3 Says: This is a great question. Charlie and I both try to be extremely cognizant of each other's needs. Sometimes that "need" is fulfilled by sitting in a hot bath with plastic "Nemo" fish bobbing around and Jimmy Buffett playing in the background while we pretend that we're in the Bahamas.

We both recognize the importance of "ME" time. Taking time for ourselves is extremely important because it rejuvenates our body, spirit and soul.

Since we don't have a lot of friends in town, and since we don't live near family, our "outside interaction" requires work AND persistence. This past Christmas, I bought Charlie all new tennis gear and have been chasing him out of the house for the past 8-months, every Sunday morning, so he can play doubles with a group of guys. I've also convinced him to play golf - two times a month - with a neighborhood friend. Charlie goes to the gym, at least three days a week, and has recently started running at night - and bicycling in the morning - as a means of training for the upcoming Los Angeles triathlon, next month.

Me on the other hand ... I haven't been to the gym in over a month.

Anonymous Commenter Says: I think parenting should be 50/50.

Jen3 Says: You and me both, BABY!!!

I think that a marriage should be 50/50, not just parenting. Sometimes, however, there are times when the split of responsibility might be 30/70 ... 20/80 .... 60/40 ... 90/10. Usually, those times coincide with when one of us is sick ... or ... swamped with work. As much as possible, I try not to keep tabs on "who did what." I don't think that mentality is very healthy in any relationship. We both know what needs to be done at home in order for our family and marriage to remain strong - and we work together as a team.

Of course ... in our situation the amount of energy required to raise toddler triplets is more like 150/150. If there is any question just how much effort and energy it takes to raise toddler triplets, you need to check out this post. And this one. And this one. And this one. Don't forget this one. Or this one. I could go on ... or, I could just direct you to the archives on the left side of this blog. Pick a story. Any story.

Anonymous Commenter Says: This is what happens when you get IV!!!

Jen3 Says: I'm not sure that I completely understand the comment. Do you mean, this is what happens when you get "In Vitro"? And if so ... I don't understand the origination of the "this is what happens" part of that sentence.

I'm going out on a limb here ... but I think it's important to make something clear.

There is no doubt in my mind, that being a parent is the hardest job on the face of God's green earth. But the hard work of parenthood is easily offset by the fact that there is no greater blessing in this world, than children.

When we struggled for years to have a baby - I felt like I was dying inside. Now that our children have finally arrived ... I have no doubt that THIS is exactly what was suppose to happen. Knowing what I know now ... I wouldn't trade our years of infertility for anything. Because had we not gone through IVF ... I wouldn't have been blessed with triplets. And quite honestly, I'd chose my life over any other ... every single day of the week ... and three times on Sunday.

So if "this is what happens when you get IV" ... I say ... bring it on.

I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Anonymous Commenter Says: Good luck and we will see how long your marriage lasts!!!

Jen3 Says: When we had our first appointment with a perinatologist (high risk OB/GYN), they recommended "Selective Reduction" (i.e. terminating / aborting one of the fetuses). There were a multitude of reasons that this wasn't an option for us ... but one of the points our doctor really stressed for us to consider was the statistic that "70% of triplet marriages end in divorce."

Gosh. That seems like a really high percentage - doesn't it?

Considering the National Average for divorce is 50%, having triplets increases the likelihood for divorce by 20%. Interestingly enough - I know at least 30 triplet families, and have yet to meet one that have actually gone through a divorce. I think I know why...

When the babies were only a few months old, I suffered my first *real* nervous breakdown. At the time, we had three newborns, who weren't yet sleeping through the night ... all three of the babies were diagnosed with reflux, one was diagnosed with lactose intolerance and two of them were on apnea monitors that would go off at least 5 times a night (usually between the hours of 3 AM and 5 AM). All three of the babies were on enough medication to rival any senior citizen's daily pill regiment. Add to that, I was battling my third bout of mastitis with bleeding nipples.

After I was unsuccessful at drowning myself in the shower, I told Charlie that I was leaving. I was going someplace far, far away ... where there were no crying babies ... no horrific monitors that made my heart stop every time they went off because it could indicate our premature baby had stopped breathing ... and no 6-pound beings that could suck the skin off my chest - and most likely, the chrome off a bumper.

I was running away from home ... and I was going to sleep ... forever.

In the midst of my breakdown Charlie laughed and said, "You can't leave ... because if you do - I'll be here all by myself. And I know that you love me too much to do that!"

Charlie and I are best friends. We've known each other for 15 years ... we've been married for 12. We've seen each other through some of the best - and worst times - of our lives. But the thing that keeps our marriage really tight is that there is no way one of us could handle raising triplets, on our own.

The National Average for median duration of a marriage is 7.2 years. Considering Charlie and I are sailing towards 12 years of marital bliss this coming Sunday ... I feel pretty confident that we are in this marriage for the long haul. Our being the parents of triplets only strengthens the commitment.

Anonymous Commenter Says: Where's the sex???"

Jen3 Says: The majority of women I know have told me that their "love life" takes a substantial dip (i.e.: goes on hiatus for at least 6-months maybe more if they are nursing) after giving birth. With that in mind, you could probably imagine what giving birth to three babies - simultaneously - does to your libido. Thankfully, our marriage is about a lot more than "sex". If it wasn't, there is no way we would have survived the first year of parenthood.

When you have a full life, you have to make time for just about everything, including romance. If that means we have to put a "smiley face" on our calendar to remind ourselves that Friday night is suppose to be a time for us, than that's what it takes.

Charlie and I would gladly welcome additional children in to our lives. Because we are somewhat apprehensive about what another round of fertility treatment could do to my body, we don't know whether we will pursue IVF again, or not. But that’s not stopping us from putting smiley faces all over our calendar with the hope that we may receive a nice “surprise”. Now everyone who comes to our house will know what the smiley face on our calendar represents. Including my mother.

Our marriage isn't perfect ... which makes sense considering the two main characters of the show aren't perfect, either. But at least once every day, I try to acknowledge my husband for the wonderful person he is. We talk. We laugh. We hug. We rejoice in our blessings. We savor our good health. And along the way - we tell each other, and the world, how much we appreciate our marriage.

I've had an epiphany writing this. Even though I've been told it is a waste of energy to respond to critics - I'm glad I addressed the comment left for me yesterday. As my own worst critic ... I haven't been giving myself enough credit. But now I'm going to divert my energy to playing outside with my husband and children ... where I'm certain I will gather a plethora of material for my next blog posting.

Daddy Duty (and a brief history of time...)

Although Charlie and I are both "suppose" to work part-time, this past month has been a bit crazy.

With my trip to Santa Fe in July ... and business meetings 4 out of 5 days during the week for the past 3 weeks ... I have been working more of a "full-time" job, while Charlie has been managing everything on the home front. This is a summary of the past week of Daddy Duty (aka: Charlie-in-Charge).

MONDAY:
Charlie took the kids to Costco, all by himself. But rather than putting two in the seats, and one in the basket - he fit all three of them in the seat. I only wish I had a picture of how this was accomplished. Apparently, Carolyn was on one side - William was on the other, and Elizabeth who shared a leg-hole with her brother and sister, was seated in the middle. According to reputable sources (i.e. a neighbor who saw him there), people in the store stopped what they were doing and turned to watch my husband complete our weekly shopping.

I don't doubt it.

Seeing a mother with a set of toddler triplets, on her own, is quite a sight. Seeing a father with a set of toddler triplets, on his own, is even MORE of a sight. As in ... a sight you might not ever see in your lifetime. Kind of like Big Foot.

Monday night - Charlie loaded the kids up and took them out again. This may not seem like much effort - but trust me ... it is. Very, very very, very, very, very, very, very rarely do I dare venture out of the house, with all three kids, in the vehicle, more than once a day.

Infact, I don't think I've ever done it ... deliberately.

But not Charlie. His second destination of the day was to our local grocery store to pick up a rotisserie chicken for dinner. He even called before he went to make absolutely sure that they had some in stock. Yet, when he arrived at the store - they had just sold the last one.

Minutes ... if not mere seconds before he arrived with an entourage of 21-month olds that were in the midst of throwing three separate temper tantrums, they sold the last chicken.

Here's the picture, as I understand it.

It's 6:00 at night. The kids go to bed at 7:00. They are usually eating dinner by no later than 6:15. On this particular day - they only had one nap - as opposed to two (yes, we're still on two naps a day). Bunny was in the wash. William and Carolyn's blankies were at home.

Meltdown.

Combustion.

Disaster.

Those are just three of the many words that come to mind when Charlie described the situation, unfolding in our local grocery store, to me.

Did he tuck tail and run??? Oh no ... not my husband.

Rather than laying down in the middle of the floor and throwing a temper tantrum alongside William ... Charlie very eloquently turned the cart around and headed off to Boston Market.

Had that been me, I would have very casually said "HOW DARE YOU SELL THE LAST ROTISSERIE CHICKEN?! CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT I BROUGHT THREE 21-MONTH OLDS TO THE STORE, ON MY OWN, SPECIFICALLY TO PURCHASE COOKED POULTRY FOR OUR DINNER?! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD - SOMEONE COOK DINNER FOR ME!!!!" "Oh, really? I just called a few minutes ago and understood that you had several in stock."

The least they could do is give him a big bottle of Tequila. And a bag of M&M's.

TUESDAY:
After a long day in meetings on Tuesday, and with Charlie's blessing ... I ventured off to my monthly triplet mother's night-out on Tuesday night. When I returned home, the house was immaculate. The lights were dimmed, the children were asleep in bed, there was a bottle of wine "breathing" ... and Charlie spent an hour showing me the incredible photo montage he had pulled together in his "spare" time on our new Macintosh computer.

(Oh, by the way. The keyboard never recovered. So ... instead of just getting a new keyboard, Charlie convinced me that we needed a whole new computer. It was an easy sell. We have >5,000 baby photos and they had almost completely consumed all the memory on our computer. So ... out with the Vic-20, in with the Mac. It's awesome.)

As I sat looking at random photos of our babies over the past year ... set to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's (IZ) "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" I couldn't hold back the tears. It's remarkable just how fast our babies are growing up. And, it's remarkable how every single time I hear IZ's song I cry. If only I could figure out how to link music on to my blog... I suspect you'd be crying along with me. But more than any of that ... how did I ever get so lucky to be married to somone that can knock my socks off, without really trying?!

WEDNESDAY:
Charlie dressed the kids up in their most adorable outfits, and drove to meet me during lunch. It's no surprise that I'm the kind of mother who assumes everyone (including all of my co-workers) will love visiting with my children as much as I do.

Who knows. Maybe that's a short-fall of mine. But really ... there are few things cuter in this world than seeing toddlers run around and sing "E-I-E-I-Ooooooooo."

Even if those toddlers happen to be our children.

But, there was another reason Charlie came to see me for lunch.

When Charlie was a 20-year old lad ... he did a semester abroad studying Geology in New Zealand. During his time there, he was scheduled to go on a 3-day backpacking trip in some remote rainforest along the west coast of the South Islands. The first day in to the trip ... he stepped in a big mud puddle and the sole of his hiking boot came off.

That would be the FIRST day ... of a THREE day backpacking trip.

In the wild.

Had Charlie and I known each other then ... I would have undoubtedly convinced him that he could tolerate an additional 16-ounces of weight in his pack, and carry a roll of duct tape. (Honestly - I never leave home without the stuff.) Of course, if he'd had duct tape - he could have fixed his boot. But because he didn't have duct tape ... he was screwed in bad shape.

It is because of Charlie, that I whole-heartedly believe in Kharma.

One of the guys that's backpacking with Charlie, asks him "Dude. What size shoe do you wear?" And Charlie ... rather than laying on the ground having a temper tantrum and freaking out over how he will ever make it out of the rainforest alive ... responds "I wear a size 10."

The guy, drops his pack ... and hands Charlie a brand spankin' new pair of size 10 hiking boots that he just so happened to have, in his possession, that day.

An extra pair of hiking boots.

In a rainforest.

In New Zealand.

Miles, upon miles ... away from civilization.

Long story short - the boots fit great, Charlie completed his trip ... promised the guy a case of beer for his generosity and impeccable timing ... finished his semester abroad in New Zealand ... and never saw the good-doer again.

Time goes by.

Charlie and I meet in Northern California. We get married. We move to Southern California. We go to graduate school. We take on jobs in the environmental industry. We have triplets. We seriously alter our careers to part-time status. One of my consultants ... just so happens to be the guy that Charlie promised the case of beer to, TWENTY YEARS AGO in New Zealand.

Who says it's not a small world?

Charlie ... being the kind of guy that he is ... went BACK to the store, by himself ... with all three kids in tow ... bought 5-six packs of fine imported beer (1 pack for "interest") and brought them up to my meeting on Wednesday and all because he wanted to finally make good on his promise, from 20-years ago.

THURSDAY:
Charlie is home again by himself. The excitement today came when our barefooted kids pulled a glass off of our counter and it shattered all over our tile floor.

Charlie - the Super Dad that he is - who happened to be changing a diaper at the time ... cleared a baby gate in 1/1,000,000,000 of a second after hearing the "CRASH!" ... scooped two babies up and deposited them in their cribs (after putting the first in their crib) ... and then set about clearing up the glass shards.

When I came home tonight, I found droplets of blood leading in to the bathroom and all around the house because Charlie had cut his hand in the process.

Did he complain? Not my Charlie.

Had it been me, I would have undoubtedly summoned him from his important business meeting with the urgent request that I need a pint of blood and stitches ... STAT.

During dinner tonight, Carolyn threw a fit because she has decided that sitting in a booster chair is no longer for her. Rather than losing a battle against a 21-month old ... Charlie decided to let Carolyn ... and then Elizabeth and William ... sit on the couch to enjoy their dinner.

And guess what? They actually ATE their dinner.

(Let's not dive in to the complications this situation might pose for us in the future).

I was informed today that my company has a triathlon relay-team. Apparently, one of my co-workers ... who was "suppose" to do the bike leg ... bailed out at the last minute. So, our swimmer and runner are completely out of luck, unless they could find a cyclist to complete the middle leg.

What did I do?

I nominated Charlie. We won't dwell on the fact that he hasn't been on a bike for over a year.

FRIDAY:
Tomorrow, while I sleep in ... Charlie will be out riding a triathlon bicycle (borrowed from my boss) before sun-up ... and training for the Los Angeles Triathlon.

Yep. That would be the "little race" I signed him up for ... without his knowledge. The good news is, he gets a T-shirt.

I'm not sure what's more difficult. Being the father of triplets - or being married to me.

an amazing trip trick: bathing children while you stay dry

Today, my tip is ... making bath time easier.

And drier.

While bathing children.

Introducing (drum roll) .... the bath apron.

When our triplets were born, my incredibly talented sister-in-law, Kathy, made Charlie and I each our own bath apron.

She took a single bath towel, sewed on a neck strap and waist strap (which attaches with velcro), added a little embroidery on the front(s) and whamo ... a bath towel that you wear, like an apron.

How brilliant is that??!

The beauty of this creation is that not only does it keep YOU dry when you are bathing children that love to splash all around while IN the tub ... it's a great way to scoop them up and quickly dry them off when they are getting OUT of the tub.

Especially when you are bathing them on your own.

Rather than holding a towel in my teeth (or under my chin), I can just scoop up the baby ... towel them off ... and in their jammies they go. Meanwhile, I stay dry the WHOLE ENTIRE time. Yay!

If you are not crafty enough to make a bath apron yourself ... and you do not have a sister-in-law as talented as our Kathy to make a bath apron for you ... then you are out of luck.

But ... not for long.

Because ... you can also purchase these wonderful creations on-line. (Then again, what can't you purchase on-line?)

(Edited on 3/2/08: Even if you don't have a sister-in-law named Kathy that is extremely talented, you can still get a bath apron made by MY sister-in-law named Kathy who is extremely talented. Because, she is now selling her bath aprons on Etsy!)

Kids get baths!

You stay dry!

Everyone is happy!

What could be better?!

The only thing I can think of is eating chocolate chip cookies and not gaining weight.

O'Henry!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until today.

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

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

Today was most definitely a day of firsts.

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

• The kids learned how to take off their shirts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adventures at Home Deep-in-debt Depot

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

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

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

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

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

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

1) Plants for our backyard, and

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

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

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

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

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

1) A new shower - for our bathroom;

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

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

4) Marble countertops - in our bathroom;

5) New windows;

6) French doors;

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

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

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

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

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

12) A treehouse;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THIS is why I should never go shopping, alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Chain Gang

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

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

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

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

Perhaps most importantly, I remembered to bring my camera.

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

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

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

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

We love Cheez-It's.

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

The Omniverous Ones strike again.

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

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

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

Fortunately, there were no rabbit droppings to worry about.

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

God's Fingerprints

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

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

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

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

Evening Prayer is that important to me.

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

Everything has God's Fingerprints on it.

That's pretty powerful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Destiny was five. Five. Years. Old.

She was quite possibly, not yet in Kindergarten.

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

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

She was five years old.

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

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

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

That's right. Five. Months. Old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I desperately wish I could.