I  reserve my evenings for “me” time.  This is when I workout, relax, and drink a glass of wine while watching my favorite TV show (at the moment this is Weeds…dark humor in suburbia always sucks me in).   This means if we want to eat, I have to grocery shop with my trio in tow.  I actually don’t mind taking them to the store.  They are usually very well behaved and that means 1 hour less of whining during the day!  However, the “protocol” of taking the triplets anywhere is pretty lengthy and rarely goes as planned.  Here is our typical grocery store trip…

About 20 minutes before I want to leave, I take a deep breath…

Protocol – Give the kids one last sip of milk before I put their sippy cups back in the fridge.

Mia finishes her milk and I put her cup in the fridge.  Mia frantically screams when she sees Marcus sipping out of the blue straw cup.  Mia gets a sip from the blue cup.  Josie screams as Marcus grabs her yellow cup.  Marcus takes a sip and throws the cup across the floor.  Josie retrieves the stolen cup and sips down another 4 oz of the “yellow” milk and hands the cup to Mia.  Mia throws the blue cup across the floor.  I retrieve the cups, put them in fridge and wipe up all the milk that has leaked from the “spillproof cups”.  The kids scream frantically signing “milk”

Protocol – Put the kids shoes on

I slip on Marcus’s shoes.  Mia pulls his right shoe off.  I slip on Mia’s right shoe as she squirms and kicks.  She hands Marcus’s shoe to Josie who tries to put it on her foot.  I pull Marcus’s shoe off Josie’s foot and get her shoes on.  She sits and plays with her feet.  Marcus has pulled his other shoe off and Mia has taken it into the ball pit in the other room.  I frantically dig for Marcus’s shoe while Josie goes and opens the “childproofed” kitchen cupboard.  I find Marcus’s other shoe by the front door.  I finally get both Marcus’s shoes on.  I find Mia’s other shoe in the toy bin and after about a 5 minute struggle, get it on her foot.

Protocol – Grab the diaper bag

I grab the diaper bag from the hall bench and lay it on the living room chair while I go grab Josie from the kitchen.  I discover bowls and snacks all over the floor.  Oh well, I will clean it up later.  Grab Josie and head back to the living room.  Marcus and Mia have pulled the diaper bag down from the chair and have taken all the diapers and happy meal toys out.  Forget it, let them play with the “special” toys and throw the diapers back in the diaper bag.

Protocol – Carry two kids out to the car and put them in their carseats.  Come back for the third child and a diet coke (If I didn’t drink in the car I would be perpetually dehydrated.  I’m afraid I drink lots of diet soda now).

Shoot, I can’t pull the darn door leading to the garage closed anymore while holding my two 20 pound children.  F%^& it, Josie can’t go down stairs yet and she is the cautious child.  Buckle Mia into her seat and let Marcus sit on the garage floor.  Struggle for 3 minutes as Mia wrestles the car seat straps.  Retrieve Marcus from under the workbench on the other side of the garage, sh%^, is that a screwdriver in his hand? Crap, Marcus just pooped his clean diaper!  Ugg, Josie is trying to come down the garage steps head first!  Grab Josie with one arm (Marcus is in my other arm).  Set Marcus on the floor and buckle Josie in who is frantically clicking her tongue for her stuffed kitty.   Where the H$## is kitty?  Find kitty on the floor of the garage outside Josie’s door.  CRAP, Marcus has climbed back up the garage steps and is now back in the house.  F$%& it, he needed a new diaper anyway.  It is REALLY HOT in the car and the girls are whining. Start the engine to give the girls some air (the garage door is open) and turn on their Baby Einstein DVD’s.  Sh%^, Josie’s DVD player won’t turn on.  Finally, figure out how to get the DVD player to work and go inside to get Marcus.  Marcus is playing with the bowls and snacks that are strewn all over the kitchen floor.  Pick up the kid, change his diaper and finally buckle him into his carseat.  All three kids are quiet and mesmerized by the miracle that is van DVD players.

Protocol – Make sure I have diaper bag with wallet, phone and grocery list before pulling out of driveway

Sh#$, I forgot I took my wallet out last night to order that damn book on “surviving toddlerhood with multiples” (because that will solve all my problems).  Run inside, grab my wallet from my desk and FINALLY pull out of the driveway.  Sh$%, I forgot my diet coke.  F$#% it, I’m so dehydrated as it is, what is another hour without a drink.    Gosh it’s bright out here…God only knows where my sunglasses are, I sure as he$% am not going to try to locate them now.  40 minutes has passed since I thought about mobilizing the kids.

Protocol – Drive through the parking lot until you find a monster truck size Target cart in a cart return.  Hope for a parking space close by.

Yes, somehow I always luck out with this step!

Protocol – As soon as I exit the car, put the van keys in my right front pocket.  Get the cart, wipe it down with a bacteria wipe, place Mia’s infant carseat in the “I have too many kids seat”, place Marcus in the front of the cart and place Josie in the Ergo backpack carrier.  Grab your diaper bag, lock the van and head into store.

Pop out Mia’s carseat and place it in the “I have too many kids seat” (I do not know what I will do when Mia grows another  ½ inch and can no longer safely ride in her infant seat..God knows she is not going to be able to sit in the “I have to many kids” seat with only one buckle holding her down).  Sh%^, the cart is missing the child strap in the front seat.  F%^&; it, place Marcus in the seat anyway and hope for the best.  Crap, I forgot to wipe the cart down and Marcus already is chewing on the grocery cart bar.  F$%^ it!  Grab the diaper bag, throw it in the cart, close the van door and wheel on over to the other side of the car to retrieve Josie.  Sh^%, I forgot to grab the backpack carrier from the other side of the van.  F$%^ it, climb over Josie and her seat and grab the backpack carrier.  Finagle Josie in the carrier and roll eyes as Mia laughs hysterically as she pulls off Marcus’s shoes.  Close the other van door and wait patiently for the damn automatic door to lock into place (good lord, why do these doors have to take so long to close, don’t they know a mom driving a van runs in fast forward!)  Grab keys out of front pocket.  Wait…where are the  fu%^ing keys!  Open van doors and search frantically for keys.  Find goldfish, puffs, dirty diapers, and stuffed animals on van floor but no keys.  Dig through diaper bag…no keys.  Look in Mia’s carseat…no keys!  Check Marcus’s pockets (hey…you never know and I stopped thinking logically months ago), no keys.   Realize that Josie kicking me in the a##, hurts more than usual and realize my keys are in my right back pocket.  What the h#$$ was I thinking?  Shut all van doors…tap my feet waiting for doors to close and lock doors.  Wheel into Target

Protocol – Grab the items off my list while in motion.  Do not stop to browse or read labels at any cost.  Avoid eye-contact with everyone and try to be polite if someone makes any “you have your hands full comments”

I am the master at this…no problem.  I have grabbed everything from my list (minus store brand diapers and formula which Target is almost always out of) in record time and have made it to the check-out with only minimal stares.  I am feeling awesome!  Sh$#, Marcus’s shoes are no longer in Mia’s hands or carseat.  F%^& it, I am going to have to go back through the store to find them.  PHEW!  They are in the grocery cart (who knows how, who cares)!  Sh^&, I forgot the canvas grocery bags..oh well, at least I bought environmentally friendly dish soap (and another 100 disposable diapers).  Feel a tinge of frustration when the check-out lady asks me for my ID when ringing up the huge box of wine (HELLO…I have 3 children) but then realize I must look under 21 and feel fabulous (just let me believe this).

Protocol – Unload the kids into the car and then the groceries.  Otherwise I will not have room to climb into the van to put the kids away.

F$%^, you have got to be Sh&^ing me!  A teenager has parked their SUV right up against the right side of the van.  How am I supposed to load the kids in the car!  Load Josie into the left side of the van because she is on my back and that is the only seat I can reach.  Frantically look for anyone in the parking lot who could help me out.  No one..at the busiest place in suburbia, no one is around.  Move the kids in the cart into an empty parking space next to the van, quickly get in the van and pull out into the parking aisle.  Load my kids and groceries into the van before someone calls the police.  F%^&; it, leave the cart in the empty parking space rather than wheel up to cart return.  Fantasize about leaving a nasty note on the teenagers SUV and a picture of my triplets that says “I hope this happens to you!”

Protocol – Arrive home; keep the car and DVD’s running while I unload the groceries.  Then, turn off the car and unload the kids.  Put away the groceries.

Sh$%, I accidently turn off the car as soon as I put it in park.  The kids immediately start whining since their DVD’s have turned off.  Quickly carry as many groceries as I can into the house in one load while the kids start screaming.  Kick myself for trying to save the environment by requesting my milks not be put into bags and attempt to carry in 2 gallons of milk and 6 bags of groceries at one time.  Finally unload the kids (by this point you can imagine how smoothly this must go) and get into the house.  Realize Marcus has already decided to help put away groceries when I find a banana in the hallway.  Sh$#, I forgot to close the bathroom door when I frantically peed (which only happens once or twice a day due to my lack of liquid intake) before leaving the house and now Mia and Josie are splashing around in the toilet.  Get the kids out of the bathroom (this is not as easy as it should be because as soon as one is out the door, the other crawls back in while the other pulls the door back open, etc.).  Crap, Marcus has managed to open the puffs I just bought and they are now all over the kitchen floor.  The girl’s realize this and come running over.  They are eating puffs before I get a chance to wipe down their hands after playing in the toilet.  F#$% it, my ice-cream is going to melt If I don’t get it in the freezer pronto.

Protocol – Congratulate myself on another successful grocery store trip, take a deep breath and start dinner.

I frantically grab a glass of wine, gulp it down and celebrate making it home.  Thank goodness our kids are so darn cute!  Can’t wait for our trip next week.

I’m a southern gentleman, through and through. Ladies first, strong handshake, yes mam; I know how to make introductions and set the dinner table for the Queen. However, it seems that lately my ability to take the time for courtesies may have taken a slide, and my hunch is that it has more than a little to do with the new pace required to handle triplet toddlers.

I realized this today, the first time we made it to church since their summer hours started; we have 15 minutes less on Sunday morning to get mobilized. After dropping the kids off at the nursery, I strolled up into the sanctuary looking like I was headed to a Kenny Chesney concert – scratch that – like I had been touring Kenny all summer. I was kicking my tattered Birkenstocks from the 90s, commando in white linen shorts (yeah, my bad), and I had such gnarly 3-day beard growth that it looked like I was in the Stanley Cup finals. Well, at least my polo shirt had sleeves AND a collar – let’s be grateful.

There are other examples too. Like when I’m checking out at a grocery store, five customers deep in line and pretty unnerved about it making me late. Besides – I don’t schedule in an extra 10 minutes for that sort of thing. When they open up a new register, I used to always offer it to anyone who had been waiting longer than me. Now, I’m a hawk watching the other workers note that the line is backed up and lollygag over to their register. As soon as they login to their register, “Hello!” it’s me waiting to scan my first item, usually organic whole milk, which I’ve never even tried. Every 3 days I get a text message 2 minutes after I pass the last grocery store on the way home from work that says “Stop and pick up milk for the kids”.

Then, when she says “Do you have a VIC card?” I think, probably, but not on me, and I don’t know what phone number is tied to it and I don’t have time to tell you anyways, because you’ll probably punch it in wrong once or twice. So I say, “Just scan yours, and I know you have one, don’t pretend you don’t. I need those discounts!”

Or maybe you’re an asshole too and do this: there are four self-checkout stations and each one has exactly one person at it, what do you do? I stand in an ambiguous rear-middle stance with legs wide and arms even wider holding out my wares, in a 50% “I’m sore from lifting” stretch, 50% 2nd grade “do not pass” pose. Inevitably, someone comes up behind me and says, “excuse me, which line are you in?” I respond that “whichever one opens up first, then you’re up. If you’re smart, commit to my station because I self-check like Usain Bolt.”

On the rat race of commuter traffic home from work the other day, I was in the Jetta in a rolling stop and go pattern, trying to guess which of my kids will go first in the NFL draft. Probably Mia, she’s got a wicked grip. A mature woman, and when I say mature, I’d guess she was 137 years old, pulled up on my left. She was rotating her right hand in circles, and I realize that she was asking me to roll down the window. I smiled and laughed on the inside. I said, “Don’t you know it’s 2009; we just push buttons to roll down windows now.” She wasn’t listening. She wanted me to listen. She began a 90 second diatribe about my driving. She called me names and body parts that would make George Carlin blush. I didn’t know that they even had that language back in the ‘20s. I was so intrigued with little old lady that I kept my window parallel to hers for the longest time, long past the time when she was done letting me have it. She asked me, “what the f*ck do you want?” and I said, “your phone number, because I love you – I know how to make triplets.” She showed me her new manicure, but just on one finger, then rolled up her window to get back to her Terry Gross interview.

Yeah, maybe I’m an asshole sometimes. OK, not maybe or sometimes. But I’m trying to have fun and, most of all, survive. Laughing is as important as loving, especially if you can do it at yourself, or with yourself – wait, that’s a whole ‘nother blog.

Max here.  First post.  I typically shy away from writing blogs, friending people (not sure when that became a verb), or making any tweets, but I’d like to share a few thoughts.

In advance of the upcoming Father’s Day weekend, I’m posting in honor of all fathers and especially fathers of multiples.

With apologies to Jeff Foxworthy, here’s my top 10 “you might be a triplet dad if…”

10.  If you sometimes pretend you have a bad digestive issue just so you can get some quiet time in the bathroom, you might be a triplet dad.  “I think that egg salad was expired, honey, I’m going to need about 15 more minutes.”

9.  If you’ve run that online 529-plan calculator using 2 different web browsers and 3 different computers because you refuse to believe it is spitting out the right numbers, you might be a triplet dad.

8.  If your wife asks you, “do you mind taking care of the kids while I go get a pedicure?”, you wonder if driving them in circles around town in the car for 2 hours constitutes “taking care” of them.  “Sure honey, you deserve it”  Tip: always check the gas level before the trip so you can fill it back up to that level on the last lap.

7.  If before you scoop up the kid or two that you have to take upstairs to undress for the bath, you check for poopy diapers and make sure you avoid taking responsibility for that kid, you might be a triplet dad.  “I’ll go ahead and take up Josie and Amelia if you want to make bottles and grab Marcus on your way up.”

6.  If you feel like a rock star when a gaggle of kids chase you around the house screaming everyday when you get home from work, you might be a triplet dad.  I never knew I was so cool.  How long will that last?

5.  If you refuse to childproof your home office because that means babies will be granted access, you might be a triplet dad.  “Probably best to keep that room quarantined.  Well, I gotta go work on the tax return.”

4.  If you tend to break mommy’s “only one hour of TV per day” rule, you might be a triplet dad.  “Now who wants to watch a DVD?  Yay!”  And on that DVD, if you think the inventor of the “Play Repeat” feature should be a given a Nobel prize, you might be a triplet dad.

3.  If you absolutely don’t know how to answer the frequent question of “how does your wife manage it all day everyday until the weekends?”, you might be a triplet dad.  Sometimes I say “you know, it really isn’t that big of a deal” just to see the look on their face.

2.  If you spend a lot of time trying to think of smart ass replies for when you get asked “oh my god, are they triplets?”, you might be a triplet dad.  Not sure my favorite.  If I’m out shopping during the hot NC summers, I say “No, their quads, I had to leave one in the car.  Do you think he’ll be OK?  I’ve only been in here an hour and 15 minutes.  Don’t worry – I left the windows up so that hot air doesn’t get in.  Do you mind watching these three while I try the new Need for Speed game?  Sweet graphics.”

1.  If you always wonder what in the hell you ever did right to deserve such a wonderful, fantastic, loving, healthy, happy, well-balanced, story book, beautiful, smart, handsome, funny, strong, and courageous family, you might be a triplet dad.  Their great-grandma always used to say “count your blessings”.  Four.

If I had known I was going to get pregnant with triplets, I would have had some bikini farewell event. Maybe a baywatch shot of me running in my bikini or maybe I would have worn it around for a full day. I would at least have taken a good look at myself in the mirror wearing each of my bikini’s. Because, my bikini days are over!

I remember one of my good friend’s showing me her teensie c-section scar soon after I got pregnant and marveling how minuscule the damage was. I remember thinking, “I could easily hide that under a bikini bottom”. Ha Ha.

Then, I remember making the HUGE mistake while I was pregnant of watching the Jon and Kate episode where Kate revealed to the world what her post-sextuplet belly looked like. I literally immediately ran up to my room and cried for hours. Max attempted to make me feel better by saying “But honey, she looks great post-tummy tuck. It is completely fixable”. That is the moment I realized a tummy tuck was the ONLY way I would ever wear a bikini again.

While I was on bedrest in the hospital, I only saw myself in a full length mirror once, a few days before I gave birth to my babies. I cried then too.

I remember being suprised by the varrying responses of the mother’s on the triplet board regarding their “after” tummy skin. Some of them reported “no stretch marks, I must be gumby” and others said “The damage is permanent, you will never look the same!” I now realize many of these mothers who claimed no permanent bodily harm only went to 28-30 weeks (my first stretch mark appeared at 30 weeks), they were 6 ft. tall or they really were gumby.

The last three weeks of my pregnancy were a major challenge for my 5 foot even frame. My ribs ached as they expanded, my insides migrated, and unfortunately I did not grow new skin. The result…ribs that will never retract, hanging skin, and a gaping hole between my ab muscles.

However, I must say I am completely in awe of how my body that was completely out of whack prior to my pregnancy managed to pull it together and nurture 3 human beings for 33 weeks. The results may be a flabby tummy and protruding ribs but they also include 3 miracles that make all the pain and uglies worth it.

I worked hard for my six pack prior to my pregnancy. And even though I know I will not be showing them off anytime soon, I am proud that I have worked hard after my pregnancy to regained all my ab strength.

Maybe some day I will get that tummy tuck and wear a bikini again. For now, I am counting my blessings and enjoying my crazy but wonderful new family. And my tankini is in the mail.

I belong to a group of triplet + moms who keep me sane. We depend on each other to figure out how to raise high order multiples and survive. A hot topic on our forum is “does it get any easier” or “please God tell me there is light at the end of the tunnel!” These posts are usually written by a new mom of multiples whose children are 4 months or younger. I know…I wrote one of them when my kids were around 2 months (I think mine was titled “Do we ever turn a corner..lie to me please!”). The answers range from “Hang in there honey, it gets so much easier to “hell no, it is harder now than ever. Sorry.”

So, what do I think now that my kids are 9 months? Easier…maybe. Different…yes. More manageable and fun…definitely! As you can see from my recent video dairies, things are a little obnoxious around the house. Of course, my “obnoxious” may look like “chaos and utter mayhem” to others. Life is exhausting with triplets. I am constantly chasing after a kid, untangling kids, or comforting a kid who has just failed miserably at catching themselves when they fall. In the meantime I am doing laundry, changing clothes, washing the endless dirty bibs and bottles, changing diapers, peeling dried half eaten cheerios off…well everything, and wiping up spit-up. If you have/had triplets around 9-15 months, you know exactly how crazy things can be; if you have/had just one baby in this age range, you can try to imagine but you will fail.So, how can things be better? Maybe it is the sleep, maybe it is the kids exuberant personalities, or maybe it is the overall awesomeness of my children…life is so much better with triplets now. The first 3-4 months I felt like I was hanging on by a thread, some days I was ready to check myself into rehab…and I didn’t even have an addiction. It must have been the combination of no sleep, leaking breasts, crazy hormones, constant crying (the babies. Fine…sometimes mine), colic, reflux and Jocelyn (sorry Josie, as angelic and sweet as you are now, you were a tough newborn!). Now, I am completely exhausted at the end of the day. As most of you know if you have tried to contact me, I rarely have the energy to respond to e-mails or answer my phone (sorry). But, I honestly enjoy everything about my triplets. If you dropped by my house at lunchtime (come on…I dare you), you may walk away thinking “God bless that woman’s soul” but I will be thinking “God, I am so blessed”.

Would I say our life is “normal” Hell no. Just looking at some of the topics on my triplet+ mom forum answers that question:
-how do I fit my stroller in the van? (trust me, no one on this board is ever going to use the word “car”)
-I had a panic attack last night, tell me it is ok
-the step by step plan to not locking your keys in the car when you load/unload your kids
-Help! How do I keep my 6 month olds from beating each other up?
-I’m on TLC tomorrow!

So no, Max and I’s life is not normal. But, we survive, thrive and LOVE IT! Here is the 9-month report card:

Amelia – 15 lbs. 10 oz, 5% 26.5 in., 20% – still a tiny peanut
Marcus – 18 lbs. 11 oz, 25%, 28 in., 45% – our big man
Jocelyn – 17 lbs. 9 0z, 25%, 26 in., 10% – looks like she may get her height from mom

The doctor was most impressed with the kids motor skills. He says he would never have guessed they were preemies since they are acting like regular 9-10 month old babies: crawling, pulling up, cruising, balancing briefly, clapping, waving, etc. Maybe it is their active mom and grammy who encourage them on all day…or maybe they are just super smart:) We sure are proud of our kiddos.

I am slowly losing my mind. Something crazy happened the other night. I heard Marcus babbling in his crib and woke up and looked at my watch. It was 7 AM and I felt completely refreshed! I had not heard a peep out of the kids all night. I gleefully got up and prepped bottles. Like we do every morning, we gathered in the girls room for bottles, diaper changes and playtime. Although Marcus and Mia were in a great mood, Josie was very reluctant to get up. Once she finally decided to join the land of the living, her nor Marcus would drink their bottles. Oh well. Everyone was happily crawling around the room and babbling up a storm. We sang some songs, read some books and about an hour later it was time to go downstairs for breakfast. By this time Marcus was VERY fussy. I made a mental note to replace the battery in the girl’s clock because I noticed it was stopped at 2:30. And, I noticed we must have gotten enough snow to cancel everything because my usual morning show was not on the radio.

I went to wake Max up to help me get the kids downstairs and noticed it was still very dark outside (I keep the blinds closed in the girls room). I looked back down at my watch and…DEVASTATION! It was in chrono mode…I had started my workout the night before exactly 7 hours ago. I switched to the correct mode and OH MY GOSH, IT WAS 3 AM! I got my triplets up at 2:00 AM, fed them and played with them for an hour! It is amazing how quickly your mood can change. No wonder the clock was “stuck” and my radio show was not on (we did get snow). After some moments of mortification I gathered myself together and put the kids back to bed. Marcus was asleep as soon as his head hit his mattress. The girls also quickly went back to sleep.

Thank heavens I didn’t start a new routine…playtime at 3 AM. How humiliating. This story s a great example of triplet mommy brain.

Pre-Baby – There are no “spirited children”. A child’s temperament is malleable and often dictated by the parent.
Post-Baby – Yeah right!

Pre-Baby – Why does that mother not wipe that big booger out of her child’s nose?
Post –Baby – Wiping your child’s nose results in screaming. People will think you pinched your child with how it carries on. Plus, another one is going to reappear immediately.

Pre-Baby – You can train your child to sleep through the night; it just takes a little willpower.
Post-Baby – Ha, Ha, Ha! I think I may puke if I hear the words “sleep training” ever again!

Pre-Baby – Gross, why would someone let their baby continue to wear an outfit that appears to be soaked in saliva?
Post-Baby – Saliva, that isn’t saliva. It is a concoction of spit-up, boogers, formula, food and drool. I’ll change him into his third outfit of the morning when this one is totally drenched.

Pre – Baby – How can someone let their child fall asleep while playing in their jumparoo? That poor child must be exhausted
Post –Baby – My child has fallen asleep in their jumparoo several times. I think there must be some sleepy potion that puffs out of the seat when the kids jump.

Pre-Baby – I am not going to let baby sh!@ take over my house.
Post-Baby – I have used burp cloths for Kleenex, tripped over toys in my bathroom and have a space saucer in front of my fireplace. And yes, I have gotten rid of the coffee table.

Pre-Baby – I’m going to be the mom who pushes my stroller in high heels.
Post-Baby – I twisted my ankle before I got the second kid buckled in.