Booze and Tobacco! How Did You Know?
- Papa Jeff on Christmas Morning
Well, the McCrimmon Family Unit has officially made it through another Christmas, and our little Pooklings have not made their grand entrance yet. Pookie is at 31 weeks today, and is not what I would call "comfortable". She has gotten to the point where she is always hungry, but eating makes her feel nautious, her back hurts from laying down, and from not laying down. So basically her back hurts and she's feeling pukish 24 hours a day. If it was me going through this, there would be a lot more whining going on.
Pookie has officially given the kids a two-week eviction notice. Not the kind where the landlord gives you two weeks to pay, and then another two, and then sends the sheriff in to tell you that you have two more weeks either. The kind where everyone is thrown in the street, the locks are changed and see your own shit at the pawn shop that weekend ( I might be watching too much reality TV). There is still a chance they could come earlier, but it is not looking like things are going to go down that way.
Pookie's mom, Grandpa Ziggy, Uncle Joe, Aunt Julie (soft J), and my brother Donny are also at our place, so we have been having quite the family get together for the last few days. It's not the same without my parents around, but I noticed I wasn't nearly as hung over as usual on Christmas Day.
In honour of the Festivus Season, I decided I would rent a hot tub for the week. We always have a great time at Pookie's parents place, and used the hot tub on a daily basis, so I thought I would set the same thing up. I found a place on the internet, called the guy up, and two days later, we were gunning beers and smoking cigars in the backyard.
The only issue is that I got a little cheap when I was picking out the tub and rented a 4-6 man tub instead of the 6-8 man. I figured that with two, maybe three guys in there, a 4-6 man would be plenty big. Plus, the big one was a 50 bucks more for the week. Apparently they size hot tubs with the same elves they use to size tents. Sitting in this tub with the Uncles is like bathing with a man, except you're both drinking and wearing trunks. We could have just filled up the bath tub and brought six pack into the can with us. At least we know for next year, and in another two years we'll have our own little gophers to run empties to the house and full beers to the tub. Father of the Year, 2014.
We missed everyone back in Pincher this year, this is the second year in a row we didn't make it down, but look forward to seeing everyone soon.
BIG congratulations to Ashley and Tyler, we can't wait to meet Morgan.
Happy Festivus!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Still Cookin'
Damn Near 30 Weeks and Pookie is Still Going Strong
I haven't made an actual report on how things are going with Pookie for a little while, because there really hasn't been much news. The last time Pookie had an appointment, things were going so well that the doctor didn't schedule an appointment for this week. 29 weeks pregnant with triplets, and no end in sight. The trap door is still locked down tight, and those kids ain't going nowhere.
Having the pooklings enter 30+ weeks territory is great, unless you're Pookie. Obviously she wants them to gestate away as long as it is beneficial for them (she's not some selfish bitch from Burlington), but being pregnant with triplets this far along is not easy. I know this, because I hear about it. I kid, Pookie has been a soldier through all of this. People have been telling me that they read the blog, and it's great that there haven't been any problems and everything is going so smoothly. Things have been great health-wise, but I wouldn`t consider them to be "smooth".
We have entered those precious times where I have to help Pookie put boots on, she gets very sore from sitting up too long, and life in general has gotten very difficult. Grandma Tammy has been a big help, she is in town again this weekend to help with some shitty chores, like doing laundry, watching Criminal Minds (the show where the ridiculously good looking FBI profilers solve impossible crimes and then kick in a door to save a victim about to be murdered at 7:52 every god damn night), and hopefully cook a meal or two. This help makes a big difference.
Yesterday was a pretty typical day for us that really highlighted the ups and downs of our little situation. Last night we ate frozen fish sticks for dinner. Out of a box. We heated them up and everything, but trying to make a frozen fish stick taste good is like trying to pick up a turd by the clean end. It wasn`t long ago that Pookie would have laughed at the thought of eating frozen, processed crap for dinner, and then whipped up a savoury yet nutritious meal like only Pookie (and my mom) can. Now that Papa Jeff is running the kitchen, we are spending evenings with Captain Highliner and Ronald McDonald. Rocky still begs at the table, but his heart isn`t into it like it used to be.
Later than evening, just before bedtime (8 pm), Pookie showed me the cell phone trick. For some reason, the babies don`t really kick if you put your hand on her belly. They become very inactive when you things go dark, so putting your hand over their particular area causes them to go still. But, if you illuminate the keypad on Pookie`s phone and lay it on her belly, our little girl starts kicking and punching and makes the phone move around like a Mexican jumping bean. It`s great because you can really see every little movement when your hand isn`t in the way. Suddenly my nasty fish stick dinner didn`t seem so bad.
Pookie has another appointment next week, I will be bloggin`.
I haven't made an actual report on how things are going with Pookie for a little while, because there really hasn't been much news. The last time Pookie had an appointment, things were going so well that the doctor didn't schedule an appointment for this week. 29 weeks pregnant with triplets, and no end in sight. The trap door is still locked down tight, and those kids ain't going nowhere.
Having the pooklings enter 30+ weeks territory is great, unless you're Pookie. Obviously she wants them to gestate away as long as it is beneficial for them (she's not some selfish bitch from Burlington), but being pregnant with triplets this far along is not easy. I know this, because I hear about it. I kid, Pookie has been a soldier through all of this. People have been telling me that they read the blog, and it's great that there haven't been any problems and everything is going so smoothly. Things have been great health-wise, but I wouldn`t consider them to be "smooth".
We have entered those precious times where I have to help Pookie put boots on, she gets very sore from sitting up too long, and life in general has gotten very difficult. Grandma Tammy has been a big help, she is in town again this weekend to help with some shitty chores, like doing laundry, watching Criminal Minds (the show where the ridiculously good looking FBI profilers solve impossible crimes and then kick in a door to save a victim about to be murdered at 7:52 every god damn night), and hopefully cook a meal or two. This help makes a big difference.
Yesterday was a pretty typical day for us that really highlighted the ups and downs of our little situation. Last night we ate frozen fish sticks for dinner. Out of a box. We heated them up and everything, but trying to make a frozen fish stick taste good is like trying to pick up a turd by the clean end. It wasn`t long ago that Pookie would have laughed at the thought of eating frozen, processed crap for dinner, and then whipped up a savoury yet nutritious meal like only Pookie (and my mom) can. Now that Papa Jeff is running the kitchen, we are spending evenings with Captain Highliner and Ronald McDonald. Rocky still begs at the table, but his heart isn`t into it like it used to be.
Later than evening, just before bedtime (8 pm), Pookie showed me the cell phone trick. For some reason, the babies don`t really kick if you put your hand on her belly. They become very inactive when you things go dark, so putting your hand over their particular area causes them to go still. But, if you illuminate the keypad on Pookie`s phone and lay it on her belly, our little girl starts kicking and punching and makes the phone move around like a Mexican jumping bean. It`s great because you can really see every little movement when your hand isn`t in the way. Suddenly my nasty fish stick dinner didn`t seem so bad.
Pookie has another appointment next week, I will be bloggin`.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Bit of a Rant - National Post Article
http://www.nationalpost.com/news/features/When+twins+many/3960709/story.html
I came across this article in the National Post a couple of days ago, and it made me want to puke. Balf wrote a blog entry on the same article a couple days ago as well (link to the Out Here Too blog is on the right side of the page), and I thought he was absolutely bang-on in his assessment. I had seen the article before I read his blog, so I didn't write anything, thinking he had it handled. Then I stewed on it for a couple days and thought I would add my two cents.
This entry isn't really in the same tone as the rest, and has nothing to do with Pookie and the trips, but it's my blog, so here we go.
If you haven't read the article I am talking about, click on the link above and you will get a better idea of where I am coming from, it is unbelievable. You might have to copy and paste it into your address bar, but it should work.
A cold-hearted, egocentric, cruel, disgusting, vile, waste of skin woman in Burlington recently found out that she was pregnant with twins, and made a decision to reduce (abort) one of the fetuses. She made this decision not because there were medical risks to the remaining fetus, or even her own health. There also weren't economic hardships that made her believe she would not be able to provide the necesseties for her children. She aborted one of the children because she thought it would be too inconvenient to have both of them, and it posed too large an inconvenience on her family's lifestyle. Her explanation, quoted from the National Post is below:
“We’re both career people. If we were going to have three children two years apart, someone else was going to be raising our kids. ... All of a sudden our lives as we know them and as we like to lead them, are not going to happen.”
I came across this article in the National Post a couple of days ago, and it made me want to puke. Balf wrote a blog entry on the same article a couple days ago as well (link to the Out Here Too blog is on the right side of the page), and I thought he was absolutely bang-on in his assessment. I had seen the article before I read his blog, so I didn't write anything, thinking he had it handled. Then I stewed on it for a couple days and thought I would add my two cents.
This entry isn't really in the same tone as the rest, and has nothing to do with Pookie and the trips, but it's my blog, so here we go.
If you haven't read the article I am talking about, click on the link above and you will get a better idea of where I am coming from, it is unbelievable. You might have to copy and paste it into your address bar, but it should work.
A cold-hearted, egocentric, cruel, disgusting, vile, waste of skin woman in Burlington recently found out that she was pregnant with twins, and made a decision to reduce (abort) one of the fetuses. She made this decision not because there were medical risks to the remaining fetus, or even her own health. There also weren't economic hardships that made her believe she would not be able to provide the necesseties for her children. She aborted one of the children because she thought it would be too inconvenient to have both of them, and it posed too large an inconvenience on her family's lifestyle. Her explanation, quoted from the National Post is below:
“We’re both career people. If we were going to have three children two years apart, someone else was going to be raising our kids. ... All of a sudden our lives as we know them and as we like to lead them, are not going to happen.”
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
28 Weeks Later....
"You're on a gravy train with biscuit wheels Roy!"
-Ernie "Big Ern" McKracken
This week was the big 28 week mark. For whatever reason, the 28 week mark is the magic point where the risk of developmental issues resulting from premature birth drops off dramatically. Trust me, I googled it, and the story checks out. We haven't had any serious problems so far, but knowing you can always just yank 'em out if absolutely necessary is nice to know.
Pookie is still doing great, she has a sore back most of the time, and a few other discomforts, but overall the gravy train keeps on rolling. Our doctor is starting to think we are going to be meeting our little Pooklings around the 31 week mark. For those of you that are not so hot at math, that means we are three weeks out. New Year's Triplets has a ring to it, am I right?
I am not known for my memory, because I don't have one. This means that over the years I have been forced to develop a few tricks to keep me from missing important dates, kind of like how blind people count stairs. A good example would be our wedding anniversary, December 31st. It is impossible to miss that. How many dudes can recite the date they proposed? This dude can, because I did it on my birthday. This is the kick-ass organizational skill I was talking about. I now am going to have all three of my kids' birthdays on the same day, and quite possibly on Christmas Day, or maybe even December 31st (which would almost be too easy). I have decided to title the book "How to Keep From Forgetting Important Dates Without Putting in an Effort or Writing Shit Down". Hello best-sellers list.
We are still kind of just putting along, things are still pretty routine. The house is ready, mom is ready, dad is stunned, and Herb the cat is indifferent. I expect all of this to continue until the big day.
Pictures soon, I promise.
-Ernie "Big Ern" McKracken
This week was the big 28 week mark. For whatever reason, the 28 week mark is the magic point where the risk of developmental issues resulting from premature birth drops off dramatically. Trust me, I googled it, and the story checks out. We haven't had any serious problems so far, but knowing you can always just yank 'em out if absolutely necessary is nice to know.
Pookie is still doing great, she has a sore back most of the time, and a few other discomforts, but overall the gravy train keeps on rolling. Our doctor is starting to think we are going to be meeting our little Pooklings around the 31 week mark. For those of you that are not so hot at math, that means we are three weeks out. New Year's Triplets has a ring to it, am I right?
I am not known for my memory, because I don't have one. This means that over the years I have been forced to develop a few tricks to keep me from missing important dates, kind of like how blind people count stairs. A good example would be our wedding anniversary, December 31st. It is impossible to miss that. How many dudes can recite the date they proposed? This dude can, because I did it on my birthday. This is the kick-ass organizational skill I was talking about. I now am going to have all three of my kids' birthdays on the same day, and quite possibly on Christmas Day, or maybe even December 31st (which would almost be too easy). I have decided to title the book "How to Keep From Forgetting Important Dates Without Putting in an Effort or Writing Shit Down". Hello best-sellers list.
We are still kind of just putting along, things are still pretty routine. The house is ready, mom is ready, dad is stunned, and Herb the cat is indifferent. I expect all of this to continue until the big day.
Pictures soon, I promise.
Friday, December 3, 2010
First Ride on the Rollercoaster
So, been a little while since my last blog, I have been a bit busy, and a lot lazy. There has been some activivity on the baby front, and not all of it was positive. Pookie had an ultrasound last week, and the ultrasound tech pointed out that there seemed to be a low amount of fluid around baby B. Baby B is our little girl Stella, the poor thing caught between the boys. Mr. I-Cause-Unnecessary-Concern ultrasound tech raised a flag that there may be an issue, and scheduled a meeting with our kick-ass doctor. It turned out that the fluid was low, but still within the normal range, and really everything was pretty positive.
The problem was that the meeting with our doctor was five days after the ultrasound, and Pookie and I had five days to worry about what was going on. In my mind, Stella was floating around on burlap drier than a popcorn fart, but really there was no need for concern. Papa Jeff lost the first of what I know are many hours of sleep worrying about his little girl, but all is well, and she is still bigger than the boys.
The definition of stress is the feeling of being responsible for things that are beyond your control. Having absolutely no control over things like your babies' health is very unpleasant. Communication with the experts you rely on is extremely important, and the events this week really highlighted this. The ultrasound guy's job is to spot issues, so that's what the guy does, and I get that, but shit man, don't sound the fire alarm unless you see some god damn flames.
The Pooklings are still growing, each baby is still in the 75th percentile for singleton babies their age. Every time Pookie sees the skulls on my dad and brother she thanks the man in the sky she is having a C-section. If these babies get to 34 or 35 weeks they are going to have to open her up like an envelope to get these big-headed babies out. The joys of multiples.
Big "whaddup" to the new people that have been writing in, welcome aboard.
The problem was that the meeting with our doctor was five days after the ultrasound, and Pookie and I had five days to worry about what was going on. In my mind, Stella was floating around on burlap drier than a popcorn fart, but really there was no need for concern. Papa Jeff lost the first of what I know are many hours of sleep worrying about his little girl, but all is well, and she is still bigger than the boys.
The definition of stress is the feeling of being responsible for things that are beyond your control. Having absolutely no control over things like your babies' health is very unpleasant. Communication with the experts you rely on is extremely important, and the events this week really highlighted this. The ultrasound guy's job is to spot issues, so that's what the guy does, and I get that, but shit man, don't sound the fire alarm unless you see some god damn flames.
The Pooklings are still growing, each baby is still in the 75th percentile for singleton babies their age. Every time Pookie sees the skulls on my dad and brother she thanks the man in the sky she is having a C-section. If these babies get to 34 or 35 weeks they are going to have to open her up like an envelope to get these big-headed babies out. The joys of multiples.
Big "whaddup" to the new people that have been writing in, welcome aboard.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Pregnancy Logic
Good Idea Honey!
There have been some interesting things going on around here lately, and not the freaky-mo-deaky kind. I'm not sure if Pookie is getting bored from having to spend so much time taking it easy, but I think she's been playing some sort of wifey head games with me.
Day One:
Pookie: "We need to flip the mattress over, your side is forming an ass-groove."
PJ: "I like my ass-groove, that's where I put my ass when I sleep."
Pookie: "The mattress will last longer if we flip it over."
PJ: "Ok....I respect your decision, and am happy to help in any way I can."
Pookie: "Just flip the mattress."
When your wife is pregnant with triplets and wants you to move shit, you move it. This is a truth I have learned well.
A week later I stroll into our room, and Pookie has set up camp on my side, totally negating the previously mentioned mattress maintenance. Puzzled, I tentatively try to figure out the new program.
PJ: "Uh, are you switching sides?"
Pookie: "I think I'll sleep better over here."
PJ: "I have no idea what it is going on."
Pookie: "I like being closer to the window, so I thought I would switch."
PJ: "What about the ass-groove?"
Pookie: "Meh, not a big deal."
At this point I noticed that the window was closed. Totally baffled, I left the room and headed downstairs to have a scotch and ponder exactly what was going on. Basically what happened was we flipped the mattress to reduce wear and tear (even though it wasn't really a big concern), then switched sides, (putting us right back where we were) causing Pookie to sleep farther from the bathroom, but that was ok because she was now closer to the window, which was closed.
For a while I thought maybe I was living in an episode of Life Goes On, and I was Corky, but I have now realized I was just dealing with a completely different form of logic. I call it Pregnancy Logic, expect to see it on Dr. Phil. This new level of thinking has popped up a few times lately, but hey, all part of the fun. As long as she feels great and the babies are growing I'll move whatever she wants, and be happy to do it.
The countdown continues.
There have been some interesting things going on around here lately, and not the freaky-mo-deaky kind. I'm not sure if Pookie is getting bored from having to spend so much time taking it easy, but I think she's been playing some sort of wifey head games with me.
Day One:
Pookie: "We need to flip the mattress over, your side is forming an ass-groove."
PJ: "I like my ass-groove, that's where I put my ass when I sleep."
Pookie: "The mattress will last longer if we flip it over."
PJ: "Ok....I respect your decision, and am happy to help in any way I can."
Pookie: "Just flip the mattress."
When your wife is pregnant with triplets and wants you to move shit, you move it. This is a truth I have learned well.
A week later I stroll into our room, and Pookie has set up camp on my side, totally negating the previously mentioned mattress maintenance. Puzzled, I tentatively try to figure out the new program.
PJ: "Uh, are you switching sides?"
Pookie: "I think I'll sleep better over here."
PJ: "I have no idea what it is going on."
Pookie: "I like being closer to the window, so I thought I would switch."
PJ: "What about the ass-groove?"
Pookie: "Meh, not a big deal."
At this point I noticed that the window was closed. Totally baffled, I left the room and headed downstairs to have a scotch and ponder exactly what was going on. Basically what happened was we flipped the mattress to reduce wear and tear (even though it wasn't really a big concern), then switched sides, (putting us right back where we were) causing Pookie to sleep farther from the bathroom, but that was ok because she was now closer to the window, which was closed.
For a while I thought maybe I was living in an episode of Life Goes On, and I was Corky, but I have now realized I was just dealing with a completely different form of logic. I call it Pregnancy Logic, expect to see it on Dr. Phil. This new level of thinking has popped up a few times lately, but hey, all part of the fun. As long as she feels great and the babies are growing I'll move whatever she wants, and be happy to do it.
The countdown continues.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
26 Weeks - Bad Weather, Good Times
Great, Now Face the Camera and Prepare to Smile Like an Idiot...
Calgary has officially entered the deep freeze, and the city has slowed to crawl. If you need to accomplish something in person, and wherever you need to be is more than 50 yards away, you should have left 15 minutes ago, because now you're going to be late.
Calgarians, like most Canadians, pride themselves in being capable winter drivers. We (myself included), feel a real sense of superiority when we hear about huge traffic snarls in Vancouver or other typically non-frozen locations that get hit with freak snowstorms and have major traffic issues. Then it snows two inches overnight and every major route in Calgary seizes up like Rocky's guts when he broke into the pantry and ate a box of pancake mix. (By the way, the pancake mix story is hilarious and I promise I will add it to the blog later. We're talking an entire box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix, and Rocky the Retriever, bunged up solid.)
A million of us rats all scurrying to work in the snow means there are going to be delays. Turn up the tunes, have a coffee, stop changing lanes every forty feet, and we'll all get there fine. Just don't tell me you are some kind of Eskimo Ivan Stewart badass behind the wheel when it was your Camry that spun out on the on-ramp and gummed up the works. That said, Vancouver drivers can't drive in snow for shit. Hi-yo!
On to Pookie. We had yet another appointment with our doctor yesterday and everything is still coming along pretty smoothly. Pookie has a few minor issues going on that are common in pregnancies, but overall things are great. The babies are growing fast, and are still above average for triplets their age. They are actually getting big so fast I think they are coming a little quicker than we thought, my personal guess is 32 weeks.
As long as they are healthy and it doesn't mean they will be in the NICU any longer, I wouldn't mind one bit if they came before the new year. Pookie would probably like to be able to tie her own shoes again, and Papa Jeff will take any tax deductions he can get. I kid, but seriously, there are some sweet tax breaks to having kids, and I get to multiply them by three. Fatherhood, one sweet deal.
This Saturday is Big Belly Picture Day. At Chinook Mall. In late November. I would rather tear my left index fingernail out in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike that spend a Saturday in Chinook Mall in late November. I don't say this lightly people, I really did tear my left index fingernail off in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike, and it feels like a gentle spring breeze compared to Chinook Mall in Christmas season.
I am actually looking forward to the photos themselves quite a bit, Pookie and I have not done the best job of documenting this little odyssey of ours. This is most likely the only pregnancy we (she) is going to experience, so we really have to soak this one in. I just have never really understood why the man is in the pictures. Everybody already knows there was a dude involved don't they? I mean shit, look at her.
The guy hasn't physically changed either, except maybe getting a little balder and fatter from the stress, but no real differences that require a photographer to capture the moment. And they always dress the guy up in an ill-fitting black T-shirt, and he basically just stands off to the side so they can take pictures of the person that is actually pregnant. Five years later, people see the pictures and say (at least I think they say) "Wow, look how beautiful you were when you were pregnant! And hey, the guy is in the picture too, how completely unnecessary!"
Maybe its just me, but I always that it should be more about her. That said, I haven't proven myself to be an accurate gauge of what's normal in these matters, so I think I'll just do as I'm told on this one.
The triple stroller just arrived, and is sitting in the living room as I type. Our fridge came in a smaller box.
Stay warm sports fans.
Calgary has officially entered the deep freeze, and the city has slowed to crawl. If you need to accomplish something in person, and wherever you need to be is more than 50 yards away, you should have left 15 minutes ago, because now you're going to be late.
Calgarians, like most Canadians, pride themselves in being capable winter drivers. We (myself included), feel a real sense of superiority when we hear about huge traffic snarls in Vancouver or other typically non-frozen locations that get hit with freak snowstorms and have major traffic issues. Then it snows two inches overnight and every major route in Calgary seizes up like Rocky's guts when he broke into the pantry and ate a box of pancake mix. (By the way, the pancake mix story is hilarious and I promise I will add it to the blog later. We're talking an entire box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix, and Rocky the Retriever, bunged up solid.)
A million of us rats all scurrying to work in the snow means there are going to be delays. Turn up the tunes, have a coffee, stop changing lanes every forty feet, and we'll all get there fine. Just don't tell me you are some kind of Eskimo Ivan Stewart badass behind the wheel when it was your Camry that spun out on the on-ramp and gummed up the works. That said, Vancouver drivers can't drive in snow for shit. Hi-yo!
On to Pookie. We had yet another appointment with our doctor yesterday and everything is still coming along pretty smoothly. Pookie has a few minor issues going on that are common in pregnancies, but overall things are great. The babies are growing fast, and are still above average for triplets their age. They are actually getting big so fast I think they are coming a little quicker than we thought, my personal guess is 32 weeks.
As long as they are healthy and it doesn't mean they will be in the NICU any longer, I wouldn't mind one bit if they came before the new year. Pookie would probably like to be able to tie her own shoes again, and Papa Jeff will take any tax deductions he can get. I kid, but seriously, there are some sweet tax breaks to having kids, and I get to multiply them by three. Fatherhood, one sweet deal.
This Saturday is Big Belly Picture Day. At Chinook Mall. In late November. I would rather tear my left index fingernail out in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike that spend a Saturday in Chinook Mall in late November. I don't say this lightly people, I really did tear my left index fingernail off in the arbour of the spin wheel of my exercise bike, and it feels like a gentle spring breeze compared to Chinook Mall in Christmas season.
I am actually looking forward to the photos themselves quite a bit, Pookie and I have not done the best job of documenting this little odyssey of ours. This is most likely the only pregnancy we (she) is going to experience, so we really have to soak this one in. I just have never really understood why the man is in the pictures. Everybody already knows there was a dude involved don't they? I mean shit, look at her.
The guy hasn't physically changed either, except maybe getting a little balder and fatter from the stress, but no real differences that require a photographer to capture the moment. And they always dress the guy up in an ill-fitting black T-shirt, and he basically just stands off to the side so they can take pictures of the person that is actually pregnant. Five years later, people see the pictures and say (at least I think they say) "Wow, look how beautiful you were when you were pregnant! And hey, the guy is in the picture too, how completely unnecessary!"
Maybe its just me, but I always that it should be more about her. That said, I haven't proven myself to be an accurate gauge of what's normal in these matters, so I think I'll just do as I'm told on this one.
The triple stroller just arrived, and is sitting in the living room as I type. Our fridge came in a smaller box.
Stay warm sports fans.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Pookie Pictures - Awkward on Land, Swift and Sleek in the Water
I'm a Model, Ya Know What I Mean....
We are now just shy of 25 weeks, and I thought it was time to put up a couple pictures of Pookie's belly. If you want to see what a triplet pregnancy looks like, scroll on down and feast your eyes.
We start with Pookie and I at the 7 week mark. We knew there was a bun in the oven, and had planned one last trip before we became parents. We thought it would be a little while before we could travel again, but didn't know this was the first and last family trip for a very long time.... (cue the "Holiday Road" song from National Lampoon's Vacation....)
This is Pookie, chillin' like a villian in the middle of Times Square. It was hotter than the hubs of Hell, and the heat seemed to radiate off the cement as much as it came from above. Swass output was at an all-time high, but Pookie looks pretty cool and comfortable for a pregnant lady standing in a frying pan.
A street vendor wished her the best of luck with the baby about an hour after this photo. I really didn't think she was showing much, and I thought she was going to kill the guy right in the face. Apparently he was onto something though huh? We still didn't know it was triplets at this point, and in hindsight she was definitely showing.
This picture has nothing to do with Pookie's belly, but it's a pretty cool shot and I am still kind of going through the NYC pics. The Empire State Building is in the background, it is lit up in red and yellow in honour of Spain winning the World Cup a few days earlier. Pookie and I joined hands with millions of our fellow New Yorkers in not giving a shit about soccer, and really had one hell of a special moment. Apologies for you European readers, we try to care about soccer here but we just can't, there's no scoring and every time I try to watch there are a bunch of Italian wusses rolling around on the ground like they've been shot.
Back to Pookie. This is the 18 week mark, and as you can see, progress has certainly been made. Perhaps not the greatest backdrop for a photo, but corraling the Missus with a camera has not been the easiest thing to do.
Sticking with our strict "don't show my face or I'll smash you" policy, I bring you the 25 week photo. Once again, progress has been made. Pookie was measuring at the 37 week rate a couple weeks ago, and I think we are safely beyond that now. Three people are kicking and moving around in there, and they need all the room they can get.
Pookie is getting more uncomfortable as she gets bigger, and unfortunately that is the deal. Sleep is getting more difficult, and heartburn and acid reflux are constant issues, but things could be worse. A lot of women pregnant with multiples are on bed rest by this point, and being confined to bed for 10 weeks would not be fun. Brian Wilson would be tired of laying around by the three week mark (at least when he found out that Pookie's medications are nowhere near as entertaining as the ones he got to use), and moving about starts to be a real chore. We are not looking forward to that part, but on the other hand the longer they stay in there the better off the kids will be.
I'll post some more pictures soon, keep an eye out folks.
We are now just shy of 25 weeks, and I thought it was time to put up a couple pictures of Pookie's belly. If you want to see what a triplet pregnancy looks like, scroll on down and feast your eyes.
We start with Pookie and I at the 7 week mark. We knew there was a bun in the oven, and had planned one last trip before we became parents. We thought it would be a little while before we could travel again, but didn't know this was the first and last family trip for a very long time.... (cue the "Holiday Road" song from National Lampoon's Vacation....)
This is Pookie, chillin' like a villian in the middle of Times Square. It was hotter than the hubs of Hell, and the heat seemed to radiate off the cement as much as it came from above. Swass output was at an all-time high, but Pookie looks pretty cool and comfortable for a pregnant lady standing in a frying pan.
A street vendor wished her the best of luck with the baby about an hour after this photo. I really didn't think she was showing much, and I thought she was going to kill the guy right in the face. Apparently he was onto something though huh? We still didn't know it was triplets at this point, and in hindsight she was definitely showing.
This picture has nothing to do with Pookie's belly, but it's a pretty cool shot and I am still kind of going through the NYC pics. The Empire State Building is in the background, it is lit up in red and yellow in honour of Spain winning the World Cup a few days earlier. Pookie and I joined hands with millions of our fellow New Yorkers in not giving a shit about soccer, and really had one hell of a special moment. Apologies for you European readers, we try to care about soccer here but we just can't, there's no scoring and every time I try to watch there are a bunch of Italian wusses rolling around on the ground like they've been shot.
Back to Pookie. This is the 18 week mark, and as you can see, progress has certainly been made. Perhaps not the greatest backdrop for a photo, but corraling the Missus with a camera has not been the easiest thing to do.
Sticking with our strict "don't show my face or I'll smash you" policy, I bring you the 25 week photo. Once again, progress has been made. Pookie was measuring at the 37 week rate a couple weeks ago, and I think we are safely beyond that now. Three people are kicking and moving around in there, and they need all the room they can get.
Pookie is getting more uncomfortable as she gets bigger, and unfortunately that is the deal. Sleep is getting more difficult, and heartburn and acid reflux are constant issues, but things could be worse. A lot of women pregnant with multiples are on bed rest by this point, and being confined to bed for 10 weeks would not be fun. Brian Wilson would be tired of laying around by the three week mark (at least when he found out that Pookie's medications are nowhere near as entertaining as the ones he got to use), and moving about starts to be a real chore. We are not looking forward to that part, but on the other hand the longer they stay in there the better off the kids will be.
I'll post some more pictures soon, keep an eye out folks.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Life in the Womb, Triplet Style
Big Boys, Bigger Girl
Triplet town is getting more crowded by the day. All of our little Pooklings are becoming not quite so little, quickly. All three of the babies have shown great growth over the last two weeks, and are now weighing just under two pounds each. If they had a slogan, it would be "No fetus can beat us", they are huge for triplets at this stage.
Our little girl in particular is becoming a bit of a brute, she outweighs the boys by a fair bit. The poor thing is sandwiched in between the other two, and spends her day getting booted from all sides with nowhere to run. The boys better cut the shit though, she is already bigger than both of them and will be tougher than a Brocket barn cat by the time she makes an appearance in the outside world.
Pookie is still wheeling around pretty well for a lady with three people camped out front, she is still driving around, heading to the mall, and basically just taking things a bit slower than usual. The pukings seem to have abated a touch, and considering the nineteen nightly trips to the bathroom she isn't sleeping that badly either. There haven't been a lot of weird cravings, no pickles and ice cream type stuff, but lots of popsicles. Popsicles have the lifespan of Iraqi policemen at election time in this house. Between the two of us we're developing a box-a-day habit. I have gone to the store more times to buy Sobey's brand popsicles than I have to buy milk. Whaddya gonna do, they're delicious.
One thing we talk about all the time is how life is going to change for Rocky and Herb (mostly Rocky). We have an idea how life is going to change for our human family members (we think), but with Rocky we have no idea how he will react to all the noise and babies and general chaos. Herb is a cat and generally totally detached from the rest of us, and unless he needs a treat or a beer gut to lay on, I don't really think he would care if a whole preschool moved in. Rocky on the other hand is a social animal. He actually cares if I make it home alive from work, and is quite involved with the day to day goings on of the house. Having three babies in the house and drastically less attention from Pookie and I is really going to mess with him. He has been the centre of attention around here for almost five years, and I think playing fourth fiddle is going to be a change. In no time I`m sure he will kind of adopt the kids, but what a shock it`s going to be when they all come home and there`s no room on the couch.
We know it`s kind of a trivial concern to worry about a dog`s feelings when you are dealing with something as important as triplets, but once you deal with the big stuff, you find yourself worrying about trivial stuff.
Another sign that things are really happening fast is that Pookie and I are basically done leaving Calgary for the foreseeable future. The triplets could be here by Christmas, and if they aren`t it will mean Pookie is way too far along to get far from the hospital anyway. Even day trips to Banff or wherever aren`t going to happen, sitting in a car for any extended period of time (even a bitchin` ride like the Suburban) gets too uncomfortable. We are dug in like ticks, and will be until roughly 2015.
That`s it for today, thanks for reading and I will be sure to post again soon. Also, a big `Whaddup` to my Romanian readers, welcome to the blog. You may be asking yourself how cool it is that somebody in Romania is reading the blog, and let me tell you, it is damn cool.
Triplet town is getting more crowded by the day. All of our little Pooklings are becoming not quite so little, quickly. All three of the babies have shown great growth over the last two weeks, and are now weighing just under two pounds each. If they had a slogan, it would be "No fetus can beat us", they are huge for triplets at this stage.
Our little girl in particular is becoming a bit of a brute, she outweighs the boys by a fair bit. The poor thing is sandwiched in between the other two, and spends her day getting booted from all sides with nowhere to run. The boys better cut the shit though, she is already bigger than both of them and will be tougher than a Brocket barn cat by the time she makes an appearance in the outside world.
Pookie is still wheeling around pretty well for a lady with three people camped out front, she is still driving around, heading to the mall, and basically just taking things a bit slower than usual. The pukings seem to have abated a touch, and considering the nineteen nightly trips to the bathroom she isn't sleeping that badly either. There haven't been a lot of weird cravings, no pickles and ice cream type stuff, but lots of popsicles. Popsicles have the lifespan of Iraqi policemen at election time in this house. Between the two of us we're developing a box-a-day habit. I have gone to the store more times to buy Sobey's brand popsicles than I have to buy milk. Whaddya gonna do, they're delicious.
One thing we talk about all the time is how life is going to change for Rocky and Herb (mostly Rocky). We have an idea how life is going to change for our human family members (we think), but with Rocky we have no idea how he will react to all the noise and babies and general chaos. Herb is a cat and generally totally detached from the rest of us, and unless he needs a treat or a beer gut to lay on, I don't really think he would care if a whole preschool moved in. Rocky on the other hand is a social animal. He actually cares if I make it home alive from work, and is quite involved with the day to day goings on of the house. Having three babies in the house and drastically less attention from Pookie and I is really going to mess with him. He has been the centre of attention around here for almost five years, and I think playing fourth fiddle is going to be a change. In no time I`m sure he will kind of adopt the kids, but what a shock it`s going to be when they all come home and there`s no room on the couch.
We know it`s kind of a trivial concern to worry about a dog`s feelings when you are dealing with something as important as triplets, but once you deal with the big stuff, you find yourself worrying about trivial stuff.
Another sign that things are really happening fast is that Pookie and I are basically done leaving Calgary for the foreseeable future. The triplets could be here by Christmas, and if they aren`t it will mean Pookie is way too far along to get far from the hospital anyway. Even day trips to Banff or wherever aren`t going to happen, sitting in a car for any extended period of time (even a bitchin` ride like the Suburban) gets too uncomfortable. We are dug in like ticks, and will be until roughly 2015.
That`s it for today, thanks for reading and I will be sure to post again soon. Also, a big `Whaddup` to my Romanian readers, welcome to the blog. You may be asking yourself how cool it is that somebody in Romania is reading the blog, and let me tell you, it is damn cool.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Back When I was a Kid....
Remember Everyone, That's Real Acid We're Using, So I Want to See Goggles People, Goggles!!!
Safety must be big business, because "safe" is code for "expensive as shit". Every baby book tells you that when buying (insert whatever item is the topic of conversation), do not choose an inexpensive model, because you can't put on a price on safety. The good people at Graco and Fisher Price (not to mention the evil bastards at Babies `R Us, who will be pleased to know I am now bad-mouthing them in 15 countries and every continent but Antarctica), have no issue putting a price on safety.
Somehow baby merchandise has been place on the Need Scale right next to food and shelter. With no trace of humour in their face, they will tell you that it is absolutely imperative that the expensive organic mattress is what your child sleeps on. Who the hell cares if their mattress is organic? Its not like its a salad, the kid isn`t going to eat it is he? And if he does, maybe a little pesticide is a good thing when you are chowing down on something you have been peeing on for the last two years.
I`m not really all that old, but if we use the 8 year old mark as the start of childhood where you are allowed kind of wheel around by yourself, I have been out and about for 22 years. A lot of good times were had, and a lot of toys were played with that you will never find today. Outside of Mexico, you will never find kids playing with lawn darts (at least the kind you could kill a water buffalo with), standing on the back seat of a car so they could wave to drivers when your dad passes them at 140 km/h, or buying their own BBs at the hardware store so they could shoot their friends with an air gun. Wearing a helmet when skiing was lame, and even if some kid smashed himself into a tree and scrambled his shit, it would still never occur to you to wear one unless you happened to ride a motorcycle to the hill and had nowhere to put your helmet anyway.
Not that I`m saying all of this progress is bad, when I ride a bike I make sure my dorky helmet is fastened properly, both because adults don`t roll out of crashes well, and because I usually have Rocky the Retriever with me who will blow you right off the bike to get to a turd he hasn`t smelled yet. Much of this progress has been for the greater good.
My point is more that when you sanitize and sterilize and pad the crap out of every activity, some of them aren`t as fun anymore. Laser tag is lame people, and so is touch football. Sure, every once in a while a kid breaks a collarbone or Stefan hits me in the face with a barbell, but that`s part of the learning process isn't it? (What I learned from the barbell incident is that Stefan probably isn`t paying attention, so it`s a good idea to make sure you are out of range.)
When it`s my kid with the broken arm or missing teeth I might be singing a different tune, but to me it seems like we shelter kids to the point that they miss out on a few things. Like the proper way to light a campfire with no tinder or kindling whatsoever, just beer boxes and gasoline, like a real woodsman.
On a side note, a lot of people have asked me if Pookie and I are going to get our own reality TV show. They are joking I hope, but it has been asked enough times that I thought I would address it.
I really don`t think people would find watching us all that interesting. Compared to Octomom and that freaky Mormon family, our little family unit is pretty dull. Not as dull as lot of people, but still, nothing I would want to watch on TV.
Also, as some of you may have noticed, the whole reality TV show thing didn`t exactly turn out to be 'aces' for old Jon Gosselin. The guy started the show as a regular Joe in holy-shit-mode, and went to Public Enemy Number 1 before the kids were even old enough to tell them what a failure he was. I would wager he would have preferred to take his hen-pecking in private, but he cracked, became the villian and is now a reviled deadbeat dad being sued by TLC. Where do I sign up?
Big Congratulations to Tess and Archie! Tess and Archie are friends of ours that had a healthy baby boy this morning. Its always great to hear when good people have kids, it kind of seems like the good people of the world are slowly breeding out the assholes. That's probably just me, but still, Pookie and I are very happy for them.
We are at 24 weeks and counting, the babies cometh.
Safety must be big business, because "safe" is code for "expensive as shit". Every baby book tells you that when buying (insert whatever item is the topic of conversation), do not choose an inexpensive model, because you can't put on a price on safety. The good people at Graco and Fisher Price (not to mention the evil bastards at Babies `R Us, who will be pleased to know I am now bad-mouthing them in 15 countries and every continent but Antarctica), have no issue putting a price on safety.
Somehow baby merchandise has been place on the Need Scale right next to food and shelter. With no trace of humour in their face, they will tell you that it is absolutely imperative that the expensive organic mattress is what your child sleeps on. Who the hell cares if their mattress is organic? Its not like its a salad, the kid isn`t going to eat it is he? And if he does, maybe a little pesticide is a good thing when you are chowing down on something you have been peeing on for the last two years.
I`m not really all that old, but if we use the 8 year old mark as the start of childhood where you are allowed kind of wheel around by yourself, I have been out and about for 22 years. A lot of good times were had, and a lot of toys were played with that you will never find today. Outside of Mexico, you will never find kids playing with lawn darts (at least the kind you could kill a water buffalo with), standing on the back seat of a car so they could wave to drivers when your dad passes them at 140 km/h, or buying their own BBs at the hardware store so they could shoot their friends with an air gun. Wearing a helmet when skiing was lame, and even if some kid smashed himself into a tree and scrambled his shit, it would still never occur to you to wear one unless you happened to ride a motorcycle to the hill and had nowhere to put your helmet anyway.
Not that I`m saying all of this progress is bad, when I ride a bike I make sure my dorky helmet is fastened properly, both because adults don`t roll out of crashes well, and because I usually have Rocky the Retriever with me who will blow you right off the bike to get to a turd he hasn`t smelled yet. Much of this progress has been for the greater good.
My point is more that when you sanitize and sterilize and pad the crap out of every activity, some of them aren`t as fun anymore. Laser tag is lame people, and so is touch football. Sure, every once in a while a kid breaks a collarbone or Stefan hits me in the face with a barbell, but that`s part of the learning process isn't it? (What I learned from the barbell incident is that Stefan probably isn`t paying attention, so it`s a good idea to make sure you are out of range.)
When it`s my kid with the broken arm or missing teeth I might be singing a different tune, but to me it seems like we shelter kids to the point that they miss out on a few things. Like the proper way to light a campfire with no tinder or kindling whatsoever, just beer boxes and gasoline, like a real woodsman.
On a side note, a lot of people have asked me if Pookie and I are going to get our own reality TV show. They are joking I hope, but it has been asked enough times that I thought I would address it.
I really don`t think people would find watching us all that interesting. Compared to Octomom and that freaky Mormon family, our little family unit is pretty dull. Not as dull as lot of people, but still, nothing I would want to watch on TV.
Also, as some of you may have noticed, the whole reality TV show thing didn`t exactly turn out to be 'aces' for old Jon Gosselin. The guy started the show as a regular Joe in holy-shit-mode, and went to Public Enemy Number 1 before the kids were even old enough to tell them what a failure he was. I would wager he would have preferred to take his hen-pecking in private, but he cracked, became the villian and is now a reviled deadbeat dad being sued by TLC. Where do I sign up?
Big Congratulations to Tess and Archie! Tess and Archie are friends of ours that had a healthy baby boy this morning. Its always great to hear when good people have kids, it kind of seems like the good people of the world are slowly breeding out the assholes. That's probably just me, but still, Pookie and I are very happy for them.
We are at 24 weeks and counting, the babies cometh.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Cowtown - The Pros and Cons
Luge Lessons, Summers in Rangoon.....
Pookie and I are both small town kids that have been transplanted to the big city. I think it`s a pretty natural thing to associate your own childhood with a "normal" childhood, and we are no different. We never really thought we would be raising kids in the city because we weren't raised in one ourselves. But, the fact of the matter is that unless Pookie discovers a Celine Dion-like singing voice (minus the bulging neck cords and annoying French accent), or I really work on my jumpshot, we aren't going anywhere for a very long time.
Calgary has its advantages. There are sports here other than hockey and street hockey, and a million other activities that you just don't find in smaller areas. The main downside is that you know that the more your kids like football and baseball (hopefully) or interpretive dance (hopefully not), the farther you will have to drive them in rush hour traffic to get there.
One funny thing I have noticed is that a small town dad that is happy to wake up at 5 in the morning to drive in a blizzard to a hockey tournament in Elkford, but is aghast at driving 20 minutes to the same tournament in Calgary. A matter of perspective I suppose.
Safety and crime are other issues. For some reason when I think of kids running around in the big city I automatically assume they are in a more dangerous town than the one I grew up in. It's easy to go into Maude Flanders mode (Won`t somebody think of the children?). Just a month ago some guy I never heard of was shot by some other guy over a drug deal, and Pincher had no murders. The fact that thousands of drug dealers sailed through the month just fine, and that 1.2 million other law abiding citizens that had no contact with crime whatsoever should carry some weight. Boring middle class shmoes who think big crime is tearing the `DO NOT REMOVE` tag off a mattress are not exactly in mortal danger here. Maybe I watch too much CTV.
More crime seems to equate to more danger would be my point, even though statistically the town I grew up in makes Tombstone look like Mayberry. (If you don`t know what Mayberry is, ask someone over 50) I think we will be able to steer the Pooklings away from lives of crime here as well as we could anywhere else.
The last issue is the weather. It may have nothing to do with raising kids, but the weather here sucks. Sorry Tourism Calgary, but you are full of shit. There is nothing majestic about scraping your car windshield or having snot freeze rock solid in your nose while you scurry to your car in April.
We have great friends here and no employment options of note anywhere else, so this is where we are going to be for a while. If you happen to pop by and the house is empty, we won Lotto Max and moved to San Diego to live on a golf course and roll naked in authentic Mexican cuisine on our birthdays (ewww). Small town people, big dreams.
By the way, not sure who checked the blog in Spain, but good work there Senor.
Until next time. (obviously)
Pookie and I are both small town kids that have been transplanted to the big city. I think it`s a pretty natural thing to associate your own childhood with a "normal" childhood, and we are no different. We never really thought we would be raising kids in the city because we weren't raised in one ourselves. But, the fact of the matter is that unless Pookie discovers a Celine Dion-like singing voice (minus the bulging neck cords and annoying French accent), or I really work on my jumpshot, we aren't going anywhere for a very long time.
Calgary has its advantages. There are sports here other than hockey and street hockey, and a million other activities that you just don't find in smaller areas. The main downside is that you know that the more your kids like football and baseball (hopefully) or interpretive dance (hopefully not), the farther you will have to drive them in rush hour traffic to get there.
One funny thing I have noticed is that a small town dad that is happy to wake up at 5 in the morning to drive in a blizzard to a hockey tournament in Elkford, but is aghast at driving 20 minutes to the same tournament in Calgary. A matter of perspective I suppose.
Safety and crime are other issues. For some reason when I think of kids running around in the big city I automatically assume they are in a more dangerous town than the one I grew up in. It's easy to go into Maude Flanders mode (Won`t somebody think of the children?). Just a month ago some guy I never heard of was shot by some other guy over a drug deal, and Pincher had no murders. The fact that thousands of drug dealers sailed through the month just fine, and that 1.2 million other law abiding citizens that had no contact with crime whatsoever should carry some weight. Boring middle class shmoes who think big crime is tearing the `DO NOT REMOVE` tag off a mattress are not exactly in mortal danger here. Maybe I watch too much CTV.
More crime seems to equate to more danger would be my point, even though statistically the town I grew up in makes Tombstone look like Mayberry. (If you don`t know what Mayberry is, ask someone over 50) I think we will be able to steer the Pooklings away from lives of crime here as well as we could anywhere else.
The last issue is the weather. It may have nothing to do with raising kids, but the weather here sucks. Sorry Tourism Calgary, but you are full of shit. There is nothing majestic about scraping your car windshield or having snot freeze rock solid in your nose while you scurry to your car in April.
We have great friends here and no employment options of note anywhere else, so this is where we are going to be for a while. If you happen to pop by and the house is empty, we won Lotto Max and moved to San Diego to live on a golf course and roll naked in authentic Mexican cuisine on our birthdays (ewww). Small town people, big dreams.
By the way, not sure who checked the blog in Spain, but good work there Senor.
Until next time. (obviously)
Friday, October 29, 2010
The Countdown Continues
ETA: 7 to 10 Weeks
Pookie had yet another ultrasound today, and like the whacked out Jesus freak by the shwarma shop downtown says, the end is nigh. The ultrasound tech didn't have crazy hair and a load of crap in her pants, but the message was still fairly consistent.
Our little Pooklings are still cooking at a great rate, they are all officially over the one pound mark. This means that each of them are actually larger than the average singleton at the 23 week mark. That's right people, they aren't even out of the womb and I am already one of those obnoxious parents bragging about their kids.
Papa Jeff: You should see little Huey's femur, it`s well above average for a multiple at the 23 week mark!!!!
Anyone Else: I don`t know who you are, but I hope you have a designated driver.
I have always disliked it when people brag about their kids, yet find myself doing it before mine are even born. I also have a recycling bin sitting next to the biggest SUV I could find. Ah, hypocrisy, how sweet the sound.
We have probably four or five ultrasounds left, and we should see the growth slow down a bit as they get older. Just think of the yapping if it doesn`t.
We are still accumulating a few things but are basically loaded up. A big thank you to Corwin and Heather, Laura, Melissa and everyone else that has sent baby gear our way. We appreciate it and will be sure to pass it on the next lucky couple with as little vomit and dog slobber on it as possible. I think that when you are about to be a parent and you realize how badly Babies `R Us screws people over, you make a little vow that at least a few babies use it before it winds up in a closet.
Side Note to Babies `R Us:
Now that some dude in Uruguay checked the blog, I have officially have readers on four continents and ten countries. You wanna stop getting bad mouthed all over the world (to like, 23 people, but still, worldwide), either send me some free shit Jon and Kate style, or lower some prices. $1500 for a stroller is theft, I don`t care if it has cupholders and chrome rims.
In other news, I had a quick work trip to Vancouver early this week, quite likely the last time I will be on a plane for a while. I am not going to go as far as to say Vancouver has a monopoly on idiots, but there certainly isn`t a shortage. About thirty people found out I had triplets on the way, and at least three approached me and asked me if they were natural with even introducing themselves first. The conversation below actually happened.
Total Stranger: Hey man, I heard you`re having triplets, how`d that happen?
Papa Jeff: And you are?
Total Stranger: I'm Phil McKrackin, I sell mutual funds in Vernon (not his real name, but who gives a shit). So are they natural?
Papa Jeff: Two of them are, the third is made out of aluminum.
Total Stranger: Seriously, did you guys take fertility drugs or something?
Papa Jeff: I tell you what, you tell me what medications you and your family are on, and I'll tell you all about it. I have to go over to the other side of the room now, thank you so much for the chat.
Like I said, no knob shortage in that place. Maybe we are getting a little sensitive, but grilling someone on their family planning methods before you introduce yourself is assholery where I come from.
Have a great Halloween everyone. Nothing like seeing the same kids that get dragged into church every Sunday by their parents get costumed up and sent out into the world to take part in a pagan ritual!
Keep fit and have fun.
Pookie had yet another ultrasound today, and like the whacked out Jesus freak by the shwarma shop downtown says, the end is nigh. The ultrasound tech didn't have crazy hair and a load of crap in her pants, but the message was still fairly consistent.
Our little Pooklings are still cooking at a great rate, they are all officially over the one pound mark. This means that each of them are actually larger than the average singleton at the 23 week mark. That's right people, they aren't even out of the womb and I am already one of those obnoxious parents bragging about their kids.
Papa Jeff: You should see little Huey's femur, it`s well above average for a multiple at the 23 week mark!!!!
Anyone Else: I don`t know who you are, but I hope you have a designated driver.
I have always disliked it when people brag about their kids, yet find myself doing it before mine are even born. I also have a recycling bin sitting next to the biggest SUV I could find. Ah, hypocrisy, how sweet the sound.
We have probably four or five ultrasounds left, and we should see the growth slow down a bit as they get older. Just think of the yapping if it doesn`t.
We are still accumulating a few things but are basically loaded up. A big thank you to Corwin and Heather, Laura, Melissa and everyone else that has sent baby gear our way. We appreciate it and will be sure to pass it on the next lucky couple with as little vomit and dog slobber on it as possible. I think that when you are about to be a parent and you realize how badly Babies `R Us screws people over, you make a little vow that at least a few babies use it before it winds up in a closet.
Side Note to Babies `R Us:
Now that some dude in Uruguay checked the blog, I have officially have readers on four continents and ten countries. You wanna stop getting bad mouthed all over the world (to like, 23 people, but still, worldwide), either send me some free shit Jon and Kate style, or lower some prices. $1500 for a stroller is theft, I don`t care if it has cupholders and chrome rims.
In other news, I had a quick work trip to Vancouver early this week, quite likely the last time I will be on a plane for a while. I am not going to go as far as to say Vancouver has a monopoly on idiots, but there certainly isn`t a shortage. About thirty people found out I had triplets on the way, and at least three approached me and asked me if they were natural with even introducing themselves first. The conversation below actually happened.
Total Stranger: Hey man, I heard you`re having triplets, how`d that happen?
Papa Jeff: And you are?
Total Stranger: I'm Phil McKrackin, I sell mutual funds in Vernon (not his real name, but who gives a shit). So are they natural?
Papa Jeff: Two of them are, the third is made out of aluminum.
Total Stranger: Seriously, did you guys take fertility drugs or something?
Papa Jeff: I tell you what, you tell me what medications you and your family are on, and I'll tell you all about it. I have to go over to the other side of the room now, thank you so much for the chat.
Like I said, no knob shortage in that place. Maybe we are getting a little sensitive, but grilling someone on their family planning methods before you introduce yourself is assholery where I come from.
Have a great Halloween everyone. Nothing like seeing the same kids that get dragged into church every Sunday by their parents get costumed up and sent out into the world to take part in a pagan ritual!
Keep fit and have fun.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
I'm Lazy, Shoot Me
It has been a while since my last blog, and really it's because there isn't a lot going on in Baby Town. Whaddya gonna do?
We had a great Jack and Jill baby shower on Saturday thanks to our friends Pam and Greg, thanks again both of you, everyone had a great time and you did a wonderful job with everything. You two is some great people. Like I said at the shower, it was kind of like our wedding, a lot of friends and family were there, there was free booze, and then we got a bunch of free stuff at the end. Gotta love it.
Our fridge has officially crapped out, so tomorrow morning Pookie and I are headed on down to Leon's for a new one (oh, the excitement). It should only take about ten minutes to pick our fridge out, and then about an hour to scrub off the smell of desperation from the sales guy that will undoubtedly pounce on us like rabbits at the front door. This has been the most exciting part of the weekend so far.
We had our 3-D ultrasound on Wednesday, and it was a touch underwhelming. Almost all of the pictures look like someone put a spotlight on a pile of guts and then snapped a shot with a disposable camera out the window of a moving car. A couple good ones are below.
You can kind of make out babies in most of these, some are definitely better than others.
Fetus C seems to be the aspiring model of the three. He is still shocked that Calgary has an East Indian mayor. Believe it little buddy, believe it.
This is the best one, the little guy looks like he just punted Pookie in the uterus. Most likely because he just punted Pookie in the uterus.
Everyone is feeling great, things are good, and I promise I will write a bigger blog when I get back from Vancouver during the week.
Until next time sports fans.
We had a great Jack and Jill baby shower on Saturday thanks to our friends Pam and Greg, thanks again both of you, everyone had a great time and you did a wonderful job with everything. You two is some great people. Like I said at the shower, it was kind of like our wedding, a lot of friends and family were there, there was free booze, and then we got a bunch of free stuff at the end. Gotta love it.
Our fridge has officially crapped out, so tomorrow morning Pookie and I are headed on down to Leon's for a new one (oh, the excitement). It should only take about ten minutes to pick our fridge out, and then about an hour to scrub off the smell of desperation from the sales guy that will undoubtedly pounce on us like rabbits at the front door. This has been the most exciting part of the weekend so far.
We had our 3-D ultrasound on Wednesday, and it was a touch underwhelming. Almost all of the pictures look like someone put a spotlight on a pile of guts and then snapped a shot with a disposable camera out the window of a moving car. A couple good ones are below.
Everyone is feeling great, things are good, and I promise I will write a bigger blog when I get back from Vancouver during the week.
Until next time sports fans.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
D.I.N.Ks No More
Double Income, No Kids, No Longer
Pookie has officially become a homemaker, and life at the Old McCrimmon Ranch is looking up. I'm talking packed lunches that aren't just leftovers, jammy jams warmed up in the dryer, and almost 30% less animal hair stuck to your socks when you cross a carpeted floor. Right now I am living in that glorious window where Pookie feels good enough to get around the house, but not quite good enough to sit in an office chair all day. This is truly the calm before the baby hurricane, or babycane, if you will.
We are continuing to fortify the house, the cribs are officially set up (Dusty could sleep in one, but the bars remind him of being thrown in the drunk tank too much), and clothes and toys are starting to fill closets. The baby bobsled stroller is en route, the suburban is gassed up, and the jolly jumper is primed and ready. As it stands, there is not really a lot more we can prepare.
Side Note - I don't know why every piece of furniture you can buy must be put together using a tiny Allen Key screwdriver, but if I find out it was your idea you can expect a strongly worded letter from my attorney. Or Dusty, whoever bills less per hour.
Pookie and I continue to be blown away by how excited and supportive our friends and family have been, and cannot thank you enough. We were down in Pincher for Thanksgiving last weekend and a few questions came up more than others.
A typical conversation I have been having:
Friend / Everyone I Meet: "Wow, you better start saving up your sleep time!"
Papa Jeff: "That's simply ridiculous. Sleep can't be saved anymore than wind-generated electricity can, so get used to me being cranky and make sure your power grid is hooked up to a dirty coal-fired power plant."
Friend / Everyone I Meet: "How huge is Pookie getting?"
Papa Jeff: "Well, for starters, if you are going to use the word "huge" around my house, Andre the Giant better be standing in the window, and you better be pointing directly at him before you say it. Trust me. She is gorgeous and getting gorgeouser."
Friend / Everyone I Meet: "When is she due?'
Papa Jeff: "Technically she is due at the end of February, but because there are triplets she is really due just after the New Year. Really we go on high alert in mid-december, but hope they cook in there as long as possible."
Pookie is still feeling and looking great, she has been very lucky that way. There is a lot of food getting eaten, and lots of naps happening, but that is all good stuff and all part of the plan.
We have a really cool 3-D ultrasound coming up next week, I will be sure to post some pictures.
Until then peeps.
Pookie has officially become a homemaker, and life at the Old McCrimmon Ranch is looking up. I'm talking packed lunches that aren't just leftovers, jammy jams warmed up in the dryer, and almost 30% less animal hair stuck to your socks when you cross a carpeted floor. Right now I am living in that glorious window where Pookie feels good enough to get around the house, but not quite good enough to sit in an office chair all day. This is truly the calm before the baby hurricane, or babycane, if you will.
We are continuing to fortify the house, the cribs are officially set up (Dusty could sleep in one, but the bars remind him of being thrown in the drunk tank too much), and clothes and toys are starting to fill closets. The baby bobsled stroller is en route, the suburban is gassed up, and the jolly jumper is primed and ready. As it stands, there is not really a lot more we can prepare.
Side Note - I don't know why every piece of furniture you can buy must be put together using a tiny Allen Key screwdriver, but if I find out it was your idea you can expect a strongly worded letter from my attorney. Or Dusty, whoever bills less per hour.
Pookie and I continue to be blown away by how excited and supportive our friends and family have been, and cannot thank you enough. We were down in Pincher for Thanksgiving last weekend and a few questions came up more than others.
A typical conversation I have been having:
Friend / Everyone I Meet: "Wow, you better start saving up your sleep time!"
Papa Jeff: "That's simply ridiculous. Sleep can't be saved anymore than wind-generated electricity can, so get used to me being cranky and make sure your power grid is hooked up to a dirty coal-fired power plant."
Friend / Everyone I Meet: "How huge is Pookie getting?"
Papa Jeff: "Well, for starters, if you are going to use the word "huge" around my house, Andre the Giant better be standing in the window, and you better be pointing directly at him before you say it. Trust me. She is gorgeous and getting gorgeouser."
Friend / Everyone I Meet: "When is she due?'
Papa Jeff: "Technically she is due at the end of February, but because there are triplets she is really due just after the New Year. Really we go on high alert in mid-december, but hope they cook in there as long as possible."
Pookie is still feeling and looking great, she has been very lucky that way. There is a lot of food getting eaten, and lots of naps happening, but that is all good stuff and all part of the plan.
We have a really cool 3-D ultrasound coming up next week, I will be sure to post some pictures.
Until then peeps.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Be Prepared - Not Just the Boy Scouts' Motto
Honey, Please Grab Me a Screwdriver. Not too Much Orange Juice Please.
If you read my short, lazy post a few days ago, you likely gathered that we have two boys and one little girl headed our way. I know I said we didn't care what the babies were as long as they were healthy, but c'mon, we all know I was totally scared we were going to have three boys, or (scarier still), three girls. People just say they don't care because you sound kind of ungrateful when you let everyone know that being lucky enough to have three healthy babies isn't enough, you also want a particular mix of boys and girls. Its not that we weren`t grateful, we`re just elated that everything worked out the way it did.
The best part of having a mix is Pookie and I don't have to go through the fertility treatment crap again. We both wanted at least one boy and one girl, so finding out we have at least one of each on the way is a total relief. I really don't know if we would have had the stomach to go through it all again, it is absolutely no fun. Well, some parts are fun, but this is a family blog.
The second best thing about boys and a girl is that the shopping hurricane can officially strengthen to a category 5. I am not a shopper, at all. If I went nuts and decided to go postal, I wouldn't march into work with an assault rifle or charge the cockpit of a plane with a plastic butter knife, but close. What I would do is go to Costco, get one of those massive jars of mayo and smash anyone over the head that leaves their cart in the main aisle so they can mooch some free food sample or grab a pair of one-size-fits-nobody cargo pants. How anyone could look forward to heading into that unholy pit of misery on their Saturday is beyond me.
Pookie picks up the slack in this area admirably. She has been handcuffed by not knowing the sexes of the kids, but she hit the malls cash in hand and Tammy in tow this weekend. You want to see something cute, come on over and look at a pair of sweat pants made for someone 13 inches tall. Funny stuff.
The rest of the preparations are coming along, the cribs have yet to be assembled¸ but the car is great, the diapers are piling up, and the clothes buying has begun. Give us a month and this place is going to look like Chuckie God Damn Cheese.
A couple new ultrasounds are below, our little people already weigh over half a pound each! Babies A and C are the boys. I am not positive, but baby C seems to be shaking his fist at us. He might be a redhead.
We are headed down to South Pinch for Thanksgiving, give me a ring ding ding if you want to grab a beer. The window is closing people, get your Jeff and Brandi time in while you can!
If you read my short, lazy post a few days ago, you likely gathered that we have two boys and one little girl headed our way. I know I said we didn't care what the babies were as long as they were healthy, but c'mon, we all know I was totally scared we were going to have three boys, or (scarier still), three girls. People just say they don't care because you sound kind of ungrateful when you let everyone know that being lucky enough to have three healthy babies isn't enough, you also want a particular mix of boys and girls. Its not that we weren`t grateful, we`re just elated that everything worked out the way it did.
The best part of having a mix is Pookie and I don't have to go through the fertility treatment crap again. We both wanted at least one boy and one girl, so finding out we have at least one of each on the way is a total relief. I really don't know if we would have had the stomach to go through it all again, it is absolutely no fun. Well, some parts are fun, but this is a family blog.
The second best thing about boys and a girl is that the shopping hurricane can officially strengthen to a category 5. I am not a shopper, at all. If I went nuts and decided to go postal, I wouldn't march into work with an assault rifle or charge the cockpit of a plane with a plastic butter knife, but close. What I would do is go to Costco, get one of those massive jars of mayo and smash anyone over the head that leaves their cart in the main aisle so they can mooch some free food sample or grab a pair of one-size-fits-nobody cargo pants. How anyone could look forward to heading into that unholy pit of misery on their Saturday is beyond me.
Pookie picks up the slack in this area admirably. She has been handcuffed by not knowing the sexes of the kids, but she hit the malls cash in hand and Tammy in tow this weekend. You want to see something cute, come on over and look at a pair of sweat pants made for someone 13 inches tall. Funny stuff.
The rest of the preparations are coming along, the cribs have yet to be assembled¸ but the car is great, the diapers are piling up, and the clothes buying has begun. Give us a month and this place is going to look like Chuckie God Damn Cheese.
A couple new ultrasounds are below, our little people already weigh over half a pound each! Babies A and C are the boys. I am not positive, but baby C seems to be shaking his fist at us. He might be a redhead.
We are headed down to South Pinch for Thanksgiving, give me a ring ding ding if you want to grab a beer. The window is closing people, get your Jeff and Brandi time in while you can!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Results Are In, and Dad Can't Stop Grinning
We have company tonight, and Fargo is on, so just a quick update.
Two boys, one girl. Mom, boys, and Daddy's little girl are all doing great.
More coming soon.
Two boys, one girl. Mom, boys, and Daddy's little girl are all doing great.
More coming soon.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Almost Magic Picture Box Time Again
A Couple Things Have Been Learned
The number one fact ascertained over the last twenty-four hours is that Darryl Hannah nearly singlehandedly destroyed the first Wall Street movie. I know this is only mildly important in the big scheme of things, but still needs to be said.
The second, obviously more important factoid is that there is at least one sadist out there revelling in the possibility of three little female angels headed our way. One is great, two maybe even greater, but three is a touch frightening. The majority of predictions seem to be saying there is some sort of mix, which was my original guess.
Grandma and Grandpa McCrimmon then added a bit of info on the situation. There has only been one single girl born on the McCrimmon side of our family in five generations, my cousin Tenley. Apparently the old McCrimmon clan is a bit like the Vikings, we go out and bring our women back to the cave. Not kicking and screaming (anymore), but still, we're net importers. This does not bode well for those hoping for a girl or two.
The big ultrasound to figure out what is really going on in babytown is this Thursday. With any luck we should get a good idea what we are having. There is also a lot of measuring to do on arms and legs and skulls and the like, just to make sure everyone is growing and doing well. Pookie has been feeling great, and the oven has been getting bigger, so we are pretty sure the buns are too. I will be sure to let everyone know what is up.
We are rocking the new Suburban pretty hard. I'm not sure what all these rappers have been complaining about, pimpin' doesn't seem so hard (if this makes no sense, ask someone born after 1975). Eventually Pookie is going to get a chance to drive it, and if someone clears off a city block she will get a chance to park it too! I kid but I love, the woman is a great driver, but she couldn't park a rubber duck in a bathtub. Then again, with three kids in tow she should be able to park wherever she wants.
Pookie is still working, feeling pretty good most of the time, and I don't know how she does it. If I had three people hanging out up front I wouldn't be doing shit. Showering would be a very optional activity if it required that kind of effort. Pookie seems to be managing though, she smells terrific.
Thanks everyone for making their guesses on the Pooklings, I will be sure to write a bigger blog Thursday or Friday.
The number one fact ascertained over the last twenty-four hours is that Darryl Hannah nearly singlehandedly destroyed the first Wall Street movie. I know this is only mildly important in the big scheme of things, but still needs to be said.
The second, obviously more important factoid is that there is at least one sadist out there revelling in the possibility of three little female angels headed our way. One is great, two maybe even greater, but three is a touch frightening. The majority of predictions seem to be saying there is some sort of mix, which was my original guess.
Grandma and Grandpa McCrimmon then added a bit of info on the situation. There has only been one single girl born on the McCrimmon side of our family in five generations, my cousin Tenley. Apparently the old McCrimmon clan is a bit like the Vikings, we go out and bring our women back to the cave. Not kicking and screaming (anymore), but still, we're net importers. This does not bode well for those hoping for a girl or two.
The big ultrasound to figure out what is really going on in babytown is this Thursday. With any luck we should get a good idea what we are having. There is also a lot of measuring to do on arms and legs and skulls and the like, just to make sure everyone is growing and doing well. Pookie has been feeling great, and the oven has been getting bigger, so we are pretty sure the buns are too. I will be sure to let everyone know what is up.
We are rocking the new Suburban pretty hard. I'm not sure what all these rappers have been complaining about, pimpin' doesn't seem so hard (if this makes no sense, ask someone born after 1975). Eventually Pookie is going to get a chance to drive it, and if someone clears off a city block she will get a chance to park it too! I kid but I love, the woman is a great driver, but she couldn't park a rubber duck in a bathtub. Then again, with three kids in tow she should be able to park wherever she wants.
Pookie is still working, feeling pretty good most of the time, and I don't know how she does it. If I had three people hanging out up front I wouldn't be doing shit. Showering would be a very optional activity if it required that kind of effort. Pookie seems to be managing though, she smells terrific.
Thanks everyone for making their guesses on the Pooklings, I will be sure to write a bigger blog Thursday or Friday.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Survey Says...
Guess that Ratio People
Pookie and I have been talking and we thought we would see what the consensus was on the expected number of boys vs. girls. We are going to find out exactly how bad my karma is or isn't in a week, and thought we would test everyone`s predictions. If you happen to guess it right, you win a free weekend of babysitting when they are between 2 and 3. I don't give a shit if you have a rabid grizzly in the house and a throwing star collection on the floor, Papa and Pookie are going to need a few trips to Vegas by then. Feel free to guess more than once!
Bernie Bonertz, full-time dentist and part-time infant prognosticator, is boasting a self-proclaimed lifetime batting average of over 80% on predicting the gender of babies en route. Bernie's semi-professional opinion is that we have two girls and one boy on the way. The prophecy was delivered with conviction, but I haven't run out and bought any Barbies quite yet.
Oddly enough, Auntie Julie also came up with a two girls one boy prediction. Julie has no stellar track record in this field, but she had a creepy dream about it, so that has to carry some weight (at least with my gypsy readers).
Of course Pookie and I just want everyone to be healthy, which is a total cliche but the truth. So far everything has been great, so the worry level is manageable, but we will be happy with any combination.
That said....three girls would be a bit difficult in those years between 4 and 25. Really, what are the odds of that? I am as religious as the next guy (as long as the next guy is a total atheist), and I can't see the cosmos inflicting three girls on us. Three boys I could manage, but think of the nightmares of three girls. Dorky guys (ala Papa Jeff circa 1995) would be prowling around the house like hutterites on an overturned potato truck. How would a dad be expected to deal with that? Scotch people, scotch.
In other, less terrifying news, the McCrimmons officially dodged the bullet of having to drive a minvan. We actually went down to a dealership, totally resigned to the reality that a minivan made sense. Then we noticed that there is no cargo room in those things. We have a triple stroller and a retriever, it doesn't matter if the van has stow-and-go seating or not, a van ain't gonna work. Then, we found it, the Suburban. If you've been eyeing up the big black Suburban at Westcastle Motors in Pincher, you can kiss that baby goodbye. Keith Foster gave us a great deal on it, and was great to deal with. We are coming down to pick it up this weekend. I might have to find some of this ``rap`` music the kids are listening to, this baby looks like something Jay-Z would drive, whoever the hell that is.
We are still doing the pre-natal class, although last night the whole class was on preparing for labour. Pookie is getting a C-Section, so the class was not particularly relevant. They may as well been teaching a class on the best way to care for your yacht, or preparing for my first triathalon.
That`s all the news that`s fit to print in Diaper City, keep your stick on the ice and get those predictions in.
Pookie and I have been talking and we thought we would see what the consensus was on the expected number of boys vs. girls. We are going to find out exactly how bad my karma is or isn't in a week, and thought we would test everyone`s predictions. If you happen to guess it right, you win a free weekend of babysitting when they are between 2 and 3. I don't give a shit if you have a rabid grizzly in the house and a throwing star collection on the floor, Papa and Pookie are going to need a few trips to Vegas by then. Feel free to guess more than once!
Bernie Bonertz, full-time dentist and part-time infant prognosticator, is boasting a self-proclaimed lifetime batting average of over 80% on predicting the gender of babies en route. Bernie's semi-professional opinion is that we have two girls and one boy on the way. The prophecy was delivered with conviction, but I haven't run out and bought any Barbies quite yet.
Oddly enough, Auntie Julie also came up with a two girls one boy prediction. Julie has no stellar track record in this field, but she had a creepy dream about it, so that has to carry some weight (at least with my gypsy readers).
Of course Pookie and I just want everyone to be healthy, which is a total cliche but the truth. So far everything has been great, so the worry level is manageable, but we will be happy with any combination.
That said....three girls would be a bit difficult in those years between 4 and 25. Really, what are the odds of that? I am as religious as the next guy (as long as the next guy is a total atheist), and I can't see the cosmos inflicting three girls on us. Three boys I could manage, but think of the nightmares of three girls. Dorky guys (ala Papa Jeff circa 1995) would be prowling around the house like hutterites on an overturned potato truck. How would a dad be expected to deal with that? Scotch people, scotch.
In other, less terrifying news, the McCrimmons officially dodged the bullet of having to drive a minvan. We actually went down to a dealership, totally resigned to the reality that a minivan made sense. Then we noticed that there is no cargo room in those things. We have a triple stroller and a retriever, it doesn't matter if the van has stow-and-go seating or not, a van ain't gonna work. Then, we found it, the Suburban. If you've been eyeing up the big black Suburban at Westcastle Motors in Pincher, you can kiss that baby goodbye. Keith Foster gave us a great deal on it, and was great to deal with. We are coming down to pick it up this weekend. I might have to find some of this ``rap`` music the kids are listening to, this baby looks like something Jay-Z would drive, whoever the hell that is.
We are still doing the pre-natal class, although last night the whole class was on preparing for labour. Pookie is getting a C-Section, so the class was not particularly relevant. They may as well been teaching a class on the best way to care for your yacht, or preparing for my first triathalon.
That`s all the news that`s fit to print in Diaper City, keep your stick on the ice and get those predictions in.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Pre-Natal Class - Awkward as watching a movie with nudity in it with your Grandparents in the room
Dr. Seymour Bush, at your cervix.
Aaaah, Pre-Natal class for couples with multiples, everything I thought it could be. Last night Pookie and I went to our very first class, and it was a touch strange. There were nine couples, seven with twins and two (including us) expecting triplets. It reminded me of a junior high sex education class, except everyone there was actually paying attention instead of staring at the naked person diagrams on the wall.
Women carrying twins typically average about 36 weeks of gestation, and triplet mothers make it about 32. The class runs for six weeks, so it is important to make sure you enrol early enough to make sure you can attend all the classes before Huey, Dewey and Lewey make an appearance. Because the mothers expecting twins have an extra month, most of them wait a little longer to enrol. A woman pregnant with twins at 24 weeks is a sight to behold, but seven of these women in a room asking questions about "keegles" (if you don't know what these are, treasure your innocence), and different sorts of discharges is a bit surreal. Meanwhile, nine dudes just sit there and nod whenever they see someone else nod, and hope nobody asks them a question.
All in all, the class was pretty informative, especially when the nurse teaching it talked about hospital procedures and what you do and don't have to put up with. If you don't want the doe-eyed med student in the room, you can fire his ass out the door like a shoplifter in a liquor store.
On a less important note, we had a little bit of bad news this week. The Trailblazer is officially for sale. Transport Canada has no problem with you putting three car seats wide in a back seat, but in our car for some reason it is not safe to put a car seat in the middle. Fabulous. The only reason we bought the thing in the first place was for the kidlets and in one fell swoop we outgrew it. I don't even want to say it, but I think we are going to have to get a (puke) minivan. I always thought I would somehow avoid having to get a minivan, but they are just so damn practical. Ugly like East German shotputters, but practical.
The transformation of the house from childless yuppy palace to not-for-profit daycare is also fully underway. Uncle Dusty came up huge at the big twins and triplets supply sale, he picked up three Baby Bjorns and a big Jolly Jumper, so he is officially in the lead as H, D, and L's favourite uncle. To thank him for spending Saturday in Shopping Hell I asked him to help me clear out the room where the triplets are going to be for the next few years. Sometimes I love so much it hurts.
Pookie is still feeling good about 80% of the time, so she has been very lucky. Her appetite is great and almost everything is staying down, and the aches and pains have been pretty manageable. Compared to some of the women in the class she has sailed through everything without a hitch. Things could really be a lot worse getting everything ready, but a healthy Pookie and some free manual labour from Dusty helps things right along.
Here are a couple pictures of the new McCrimmons, you gotta love how they need to be labelled. Baby BB didn't want to be in the group shot, someone must have set him off earlier that day.
Side Note - I have had a few people tell me they have tried to leave comments and the site wouldn't let them. I think I have it sorted out, but shoot me an email at jeff_mccrimmon@yahoo.ca if you have a problem and I will try it again. It's great getting messages from everybody and will be great to be able to read them later on when we come back and read these posts again.
Aaaah, Pre-Natal class for couples with multiples, everything I thought it could be. Last night Pookie and I went to our very first class, and it was a touch strange. There were nine couples, seven with twins and two (including us) expecting triplets. It reminded me of a junior high sex education class, except everyone there was actually paying attention instead of staring at the naked person diagrams on the wall.
Women carrying twins typically average about 36 weeks of gestation, and triplet mothers make it about 32. The class runs for six weeks, so it is important to make sure you enrol early enough to make sure you can attend all the classes before Huey, Dewey and Lewey make an appearance. Because the mothers expecting twins have an extra month, most of them wait a little longer to enrol. A woman pregnant with twins at 24 weeks is a sight to behold, but seven of these women in a room asking questions about "keegles" (if you don't know what these are, treasure your innocence), and different sorts of discharges is a bit surreal. Meanwhile, nine dudes just sit there and nod whenever they see someone else nod, and hope nobody asks them a question.
All in all, the class was pretty informative, especially when the nurse teaching it talked about hospital procedures and what you do and don't have to put up with. If you don't want the doe-eyed med student in the room, you can fire his ass out the door like a shoplifter in a liquor store.
On a less important note, we had a little bit of bad news this week. The Trailblazer is officially for sale. Transport Canada has no problem with you putting three car seats wide in a back seat, but in our car for some reason it is not safe to put a car seat in the middle. Fabulous. The only reason we bought the thing in the first place was for the kidlets and in one fell swoop we outgrew it. I don't even want to say it, but I think we are going to have to get a (puke) minivan. I always thought I would somehow avoid having to get a minivan, but they are just so damn practical. Ugly like East German shotputters, but practical.
The transformation of the house from childless yuppy palace to not-for-profit daycare is also fully underway. Uncle Dusty came up huge at the big twins and triplets supply sale, he picked up three Baby Bjorns and a big Jolly Jumper, so he is officially in the lead as H, D, and L's favourite uncle. To thank him for spending Saturday in Shopping Hell I asked him to help me clear out the room where the triplets are going to be for the next few years. Sometimes I love so much it hurts.
Pookie is still feeling good about 80% of the time, so she has been very lucky. Her appetite is great and almost everything is staying down, and the aches and pains have been pretty manageable. Compared to some of the women in the class she has sailed through everything without a hitch. Things could really be a lot worse getting everything ready, but a healthy Pookie and some free manual labour from Dusty helps things right along.
Here are a couple pictures of the new McCrimmons, you gotta love how they need to be labelled. Baby BB didn't want to be in the group shot, someone must have set him off earlier that day.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Cribs (but not the MTV kind where some talentless rapper shows you where he lives, actual cribs)
Why Would I Need French Instructions If I Don't Speak French?
Preparations continue for the upcoming baby invasion. Pookie, being the thrifty type, located three very reasonably priced cribs in Target (pronounced with a soft 'T' to make it sound fancy), in Kalispell Montana. The stores in the U.S have baby gear at a fraction of the prices we pay here. We get screwed on many things here in the great white north, like cigars, scotch, food and other necessities, but we get an especially mean-spirited rogering on baby stuff. Not in the U.S though, those Americans yell "half off baby furniture" in Montana just as fast as they yell "Burn that Koran!" in Florida.
Anyhoo, Pookie found a great deal on a few baby cages, and decided it was worth a trip down there to pick them up. Since she is also the delegating type, she decided I would be the one to make said trip. Not to be outdone, I decided that these cribs weren't just worth a hotshot there and back, they were worth loading up Jimmy and Skippy and making a weekend road trip out of it. Operation Whitefish 2010 was born.
I would estimate that buying the cribs and mattresses and loading them into the car took 14 minutes. 14 minutes of shopping in a 30 hour trip is pretty much the perfect ratio if you ask me. It frees up time for more important things, like standing in the bathroom at Bulldogs for much longer than is necessary, or talking to total strangers in the Northern who approach you because they have already heard about the triplets.
Jimmy might be more excited about the triplets than I am, he told about 70 people he didn't know what was going on in the first hour we were there. One of the best things about all this has been the grandparent excitement level. The look on their faces is the exact opposite of the dog's, who looks like a meteor is hurtling towards Earth and he just noticed.
I digress. Arriving back at the border, I knew I would have to head into the office to pay duty on the cribs. What I didn't know was that it is illegal to bring cribs back into Canada if they don't have the warning labels written in French. Since the cribs were made in China and sold in the U.S, and neither of those countries have whiny, obnoxious, useless minority French-speaking provinces, the cribs had only English warnings. Thank Jeebuz the border guard let me through with them, he was a good guy about it.
Back to the Pinch this weekend, looking forward to seeing some of you at Cory and Jalayne's hitching this weekend.
Preparations continue for the upcoming baby invasion. Pookie, being the thrifty type, located three very reasonably priced cribs in Target (pronounced with a soft 'T' to make it sound fancy), in Kalispell Montana. The stores in the U.S have baby gear at a fraction of the prices we pay here. We get screwed on many things here in the great white north, like cigars, scotch, food and other necessities, but we get an especially mean-spirited rogering on baby stuff. Not in the U.S though, those Americans yell "half off baby furniture" in Montana just as fast as they yell "Burn that Koran!" in Florida.
Anyhoo, Pookie found a great deal on a few baby cages, and decided it was worth a trip down there to pick them up. Since she is also the delegating type, she decided I would be the one to make said trip. Not to be outdone, I decided that these cribs weren't just worth a hotshot there and back, they were worth loading up Jimmy and Skippy and making a weekend road trip out of it. Operation Whitefish 2010 was born.
I would estimate that buying the cribs and mattresses and loading them into the car took 14 minutes. 14 minutes of shopping in a 30 hour trip is pretty much the perfect ratio if you ask me. It frees up time for more important things, like standing in the bathroom at Bulldogs for much longer than is necessary, or talking to total strangers in the Northern who approach you because they have already heard about the triplets.
Jimmy might be more excited about the triplets than I am, he told about 70 people he didn't know what was going on in the first hour we were there. One of the best things about all this has been the grandparent excitement level. The look on their faces is the exact opposite of the dog's, who looks like a meteor is hurtling towards Earth and he just noticed.
I digress. Arriving back at the border, I knew I would have to head into the office to pay duty on the cribs. What I didn't know was that it is illegal to bring cribs back into Canada if they don't have the warning labels written in French. Since the cribs were made in China and sold in the U.S, and neither of those countries have whiny, obnoxious, useless minority French-speaking provinces, the cribs had only English warnings. Thank Jeebuz the border guard let me through with them, he was a good guy about it.
Back to the Pinch this weekend, looking forward to seeing some of you at Cory and Jalayne's hitching this weekend.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Specialist - All Clear in Baby Town
We Really Just Came Here to Hear the Doppler Thingy, So Get Doppling!
Pookie and I made our long awaited visit to the triplets specialist yesterday, and the woman was a breath of fresh air. Dr. Malingham was the first health care professional that didn't paint some ominous picture of slack jawed yokel children, stunted by malnutrition and lack of natural light (the neighbour kids basically....HI-YO!!!), but instead is genuinely excited for us. I was wondering what the problem was with the doctors we have seen so far, it was like going in to check on your advancing dementia, all slow talking and telling you the exact same thing they told you the appointment before. Everyone non-medical person has seemed pretty excited from the begininning, this is some pretty cool stuff if you ask me. Apparently we just dealt with pessimistic wieners before now.
That said, everything is looking top-notch with the triumvirate. The little heartbeats sound just like horses trotting on pavement, all clippy cloppy if you catch my drift. When the doppler thing got closer to Pookie's heart, is was kind of a .........dum-dum OH SHIT.... dum-dum OH SHIT....type sound. Just as pretty if you ask me.
Next big check-up is the 18 week ultrasound, which is the one where they really get to the measurements and see what we are dealing with. If McCrimmon genetics come through, they should be able to wear Dusty's clothes by now.
Down to Pincher again this weekend, Pookie's Grandpa wants to Indian leg wrestle me and I am going to send the old guy rolling into the next room.
Updates on the leg wrestle soon. Unless I lose.
Pookie and I made our long awaited visit to the triplets specialist yesterday, and the woman was a breath of fresh air. Dr. Malingham was the first health care professional that didn't paint some ominous picture of slack jawed yokel children, stunted by malnutrition and lack of natural light (the neighbour kids basically....HI-YO!!!), but instead is genuinely excited for us. I was wondering what the problem was with the doctors we have seen so far, it was like going in to check on your advancing dementia, all slow talking and telling you the exact same thing they told you the appointment before. Everyone non-medical person has seemed pretty excited from the begininning, this is some pretty cool stuff if you ask me. Apparently we just dealt with pessimistic wieners before now.
That said, everything is looking top-notch with the triumvirate. The little heartbeats sound just like horses trotting on pavement, all clippy cloppy if you catch my drift. When the doppler thing got closer to Pookie's heart, is was kind of a .........dum-dum OH SHIT.... dum-dum OH SHIT....type sound. Just as pretty if you ask me.
Next big check-up is the 18 week ultrasound, which is the one where they really get to the measurements and see what we are dealing with. If McCrimmon genetics come through, they should be able to wear Dusty's clothes by now.
Down to Pincher again this weekend, Pookie's Grandpa wants to Indian leg wrestle me and I am going to send the old guy rolling into the next room.
Updates on the leg wrestle soon. Unless I lose.
Monday, August 30, 2010
A Trip to the Motherland
"So, You're Saying We Shouldn't Expect You Next Year?"
The above line was the response I got when somebody I ran into in Kimberley asked me what was new. Last weekend was my first annual trip back to where it all started for the last McCrimmon clan generation, Kimberley B.C. My brother and I were both born there (in the late '80's), and still know a lot of guys out there through my dad Jimmy.
Kimberley is a strange and wonderful place. As far as I could tell, everyone there has a nickname, a bald spot, a beer in their left hand, and another beer in their right hand. We went out in a group of six, and hacked our way around two beautiful golf courses like blind woodsmen. My brother yelled "Nice punch!" to me in the woods after every second shot all weekend. The running joke was that the next time I could make it out there I would have my own foursome, but I am not sure I want the kids to see their old man riding around in a power cart with a bottle of cheap Irish whiskey in the cupholder until they are at least 30. This same sentiment might explain why my dad never brought me out there until this year.
In baby news, we have finally been set up with a specialist, which is good. Our current family doctor is a smart dude, but apparently he is as frightened by mysterious lady parts as the rest of us fellas. Our appointment is coming up this week with the new OBGYN, and I think it will put a few minor concerns to rest. I know that if I was the one pregnant with triplets, I would probably want to have a chat with someone, so I know Pookie will be a little more at ease. Most likely it will start with a high five, and the ever-present "You two sure are going to be busy!!". Thank you so much doctor.
All that aside, we have received great medical and fertility help so far (especially fertility), the doctors and nurses have been great. The issue is that every time our family doctor makes a referral, the girl up front refuses to fax it to wherever it goes. Papa Bear damn near committed his first over-the-phone strangulation before it got sorted out, but Pookie laid down the anger and wheels began to turn. After jacking Pookie around for three weeks the dolt actually had the berries to ask "What's the rush, are you having pains or something?" If you are reading this, damn your eyes woman.
Rant aside, things are pretty much normal aside from a few small changes. There is some baby stuff in the living room, Pookie is glowing like a firefly's ass (seriously, could not be cuter with her rosy cheeks), and the dog has that ominous look like he crapped in the dining room and knows you are about to notice. Other than the baby stuff, these things are familiar.
It's coming though, when you walk into a living room full of baby blankets you know you may as well put your golf clubs way in the back of the shed, you won't need them for a while. Even if I was a half decent golfer I wouldn't care, we can't wait for the big day.
Update coming after the next appointment, should have more good news.
As always, keep it real.
The above line was the response I got when somebody I ran into in Kimberley asked me what was new. Last weekend was my first annual trip back to where it all started for the last McCrimmon clan generation, Kimberley B.C. My brother and I were both born there (in the late '80's), and still know a lot of guys out there through my dad Jimmy.
Kimberley is a strange and wonderful place. As far as I could tell, everyone there has a nickname, a bald spot, a beer in their left hand, and another beer in their right hand. We went out in a group of six, and hacked our way around two beautiful golf courses like blind woodsmen. My brother yelled "Nice punch!" to me in the woods after every second shot all weekend. The running joke was that the next time I could make it out there I would have my own foursome, but I am not sure I want the kids to see their old man riding around in a power cart with a bottle of cheap Irish whiskey in the cupholder until they are at least 30. This same sentiment might explain why my dad never brought me out there until this year.
In baby news, we have finally been set up with a specialist, which is good. Our current family doctor is a smart dude, but apparently he is as frightened by mysterious lady parts as the rest of us fellas. Our appointment is coming up this week with the new OBGYN, and I think it will put a few minor concerns to rest. I know that if I was the one pregnant with triplets, I would probably want to have a chat with someone, so I know Pookie will be a little more at ease. Most likely it will start with a high five, and the ever-present "You two sure are going to be busy!!". Thank you so much doctor.
All that aside, we have received great medical and fertility help so far (especially fertility), the doctors and nurses have been great. The issue is that every time our family doctor makes a referral, the girl up front refuses to fax it to wherever it goes. Papa Bear damn near committed his first over-the-phone strangulation before it got sorted out, but Pookie laid down the anger and wheels began to turn. After jacking Pookie around for three weeks the dolt actually had the berries to ask "What's the rush, are you having pains or something?" If you are reading this, damn your eyes woman.
Rant aside, things are pretty much normal aside from a few small changes. There is some baby stuff in the living room, Pookie is glowing like a firefly's ass (seriously, could not be cuter with her rosy cheeks), and the dog has that ominous look like he crapped in the dining room and knows you are about to notice. Other than the baby stuff, these things are familiar.
It's coming though, when you walk into a living room full of baby blankets you know you may as well put your golf clubs way in the back of the shed, you won't need them for a while. Even if I was a half decent golfer I wouldn't care, we can't wait for the big day.
Update coming after the next appointment, should have more good news.
As always, keep it real.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Varmint Kong - The Epic Invasion of the Black and White
So, You're Saying They're Immune to Ammonia Now?
When a couple discovers they have a child on the way, be it one baby (normal amount) or three babies (Holy Christ!!! amount), a certain drive immediately arises to prepare the cave for the upcoming litter. Little things like cleaning up the garage, tidying up the storage area, and sorting out the area under the stairs, (where you are planning on hoarding thousands upon thousands of diapers) are natural places to start. These are things a couple plans on. Some of these tasks invariably fall to the man of the house, and this account seems to fall under that category.
Something a couple doesn't plan on is a skunk invasion. For some weeks, a local skunk militia has been testing our borders, seeing how far they can push their way into our turf. FOUR of these disgusting little bastards went as far as burrowing under my front steps and setting up some sort of bunker. This aggression will not stand....man.
Maybe they saw the SUV that has obviously never even been down an alley, or maybe they noticed the girlish hands of an office rat (McRae calls hands like these "gunfighters", but who is kidding who?), or maybe they even thought that with Pookie pregnant I had found some new respect for life, but for some reason these vermin thought they had a family of softies on their hands. Whatever the reason for their unfounded confidence, these skunks were messing with the wrong hillbillies.
Ammonia is a known skunk repellent. Knowing this, but not having any, I deduced that bleach was every bit as good. If bleach is good, and drain cleaner is sorta bleach, why not pound half a gallon of each down the burrow? Apparently, bleach and drain cleaner aren't any better for roommates that they are for skunks, and we may have burned Dusty's lungs. He rubbed some dirt on it and walked it off.
The second plan was to lure them out. They had gotten so used to the ammonia they were just dragging it out onto the yard anyway. Plus, Dusty was huffing the stuff out of garbage bags and I had to hide it in the crawlspace. My plan was to eat a tin of smoked oysters (which were lovely), leave the oil in the can and place the can in the yard. When the skunks smelled my tasty and Omega-3 rich snack, they would walk through a one-way door, lock themselves out of their fort, and be forced to beat it out of here. Naturally, some jerk's cat licked the oil out of the can three minutes after I went back in the house.
Plan C was to nail down some serious chicken wire with eight inch spikes, pour ammonia down the burrow, and pray that I didn't have to dig in there and get them once they starved to death and started to smell like my Dad's golf sandals. Victory people, victory.
The front yard might look like Cousin Eddie's place from the Vacation movies, but those little bastards are evicted, and I am down to one ill-smelling roommate. I am now positive that the skunks were either already out when I closed off the bunker, or it takes more than a week to starve a skunk. Regardless, mission accomplished. No need to call a guy to come and trap them for you, all you need are a gallon of ammonia, a gallon of bleach, half a bottle of that really nasty drain cleaner they only sell at Home Depot, two rolls of fencing wire, wire cutters, a wood barrier with a one-way door, twelve cinder blocks, forty-five eight inch steel spikes,three weeks of your time, a total disregard for the life of a family of wild animals (and our neighbourhood groundwater) and you can solve this problem on your own.
Fatherhood might be a little tricky with three simultaneous screamers, but they sure as shit aren't going to have any company in the yard.
I promised a few people a summary of the battle with the Varmint Kong, and there it is. When something new with Pookie and the Triplets comes up, I will be sure to post again, for now everyone but the skunks are doing great, and we should have more good news soon.
When a couple discovers they have a child on the way, be it one baby (normal amount) or three babies (Holy Christ!!! amount), a certain drive immediately arises to prepare the cave for the upcoming litter. Little things like cleaning up the garage, tidying up the storage area, and sorting out the area under the stairs, (where you are planning on hoarding thousands upon thousands of diapers) are natural places to start. These are things a couple plans on. Some of these tasks invariably fall to the man of the house, and this account seems to fall under that category.
Something a couple doesn't plan on is a skunk invasion. For some weeks, a local skunk militia has been testing our borders, seeing how far they can push their way into our turf. FOUR of these disgusting little bastards went as far as burrowing under my front steps and setting up some sort of bunker. This aggression will not stand....man.
Maybe they saw the SUV that has obviously never even been down an alley, or maybe they noticed the girlish hands of an office rat (McRae calls hands like these "gunfighters", but who is kidding who?), or maybe they even thought that with Pookie pregnant I had found some new respect for life, but for some reason these vermin thought they had a family of softies on their hands. Whatever the reason for their unfounded confidence, these skunks were messing with the wrong hillbillies.
Ammonia is a known skunk repellent. Knowing this, but not having any, I deduced that bleach was every bit as good. If bleach is good, and drain cleaner is sorta bleach, why not pound half a gallon of each down the burrow? Apparently, bleach and drain cleaner aren't any better for roommates that they are for skunks, and we may have burned Dusty's lungs. He rubbed some dirt on it and walked it off.
The second plan was to lure them out. They had gotten so used to the ammonia they were just dragging it out onto the yard anyway. Plus, Dusty was huffing the stuff out of garbage bags and I had to hide it in the crawlspace. My plan was to eat a tin of smoked oysters (which were lovely), leave the oil in the can and place the can in the yard. When the skunks smelled my tasty and Omega-3 rich snack, they would walk through a one-way door, lock themselves out of their fort, and be forced to beat it out of here. Naturally, some jerk's cat licked the oil out of the can three minutes after I went back in the house.
Plan C was to nail down some serious chicken wire with eight inch spikes, pour ammonia down the burrow, and pray that I didn't have to dig in there and get them once they starved to death and started to smell like my Dad's golf sandals. Victory people, victory.
The front yard might look like Cousin Eddie's place from the Vacation movies, but those little bastards are evicted, and I am down to one ill-smelling roommate. I am now positive that the skunks were either already out when I closed off the bunker, or it takes more than a week to starve a skunk. Regardless, mission accomplished. No need to call a guy to come and trap them for you, all you need are a gallon of ammonia, a gallon of bleach, half a bottle of that really nasty drain cleaner they only sell at Home Depot, two rolls of fencing wire, wire cutters, a wood barrier with a one-way door, twelve cinder blocks, forty-five eight inch steel spikes,three weeks of your time, a total disregard for the life of a family of wild animals (and our neighbourhood groundwater) and you can solve this problem on your own.
Fatherhood might be a little tricky with three simultaneous screamers, but they sure as shit aren't going to have any company in the yard.
I promised a few people a summary of the battle with the Varmint Kong, and there it is. When something new with Pookie and the Triplets comes up, I will be sure to post again, for now everyone but the skunks are doing great, and we should have more good news soon.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Back From Pinch City
Pookie! Come over here and let these people I just met look at your belly!!!
Pookie and I are back from rodeo weekend back home in Pincher Creek, where I successfully managed to spend about nine hours at the grounds without seeing a single rodeo event of any kind. I also managed to launch a two day assault on my liver, burn a stupid looking reverse raccoon sunglass tan onto my face, and limp back to Calgary on as little sleep as possible. It was great seeing so many familiar faces, especially some friends we haven't seen in years. Pookie and I couldn't believe how many people knew all about the triplets, and how excited people are that all this going on.
Typical Conversation:
Friend - Holy shit man, I heard you're having triplets, is that true?
Jeff - (Slightly slurring his words) Yes, that's correct.
Friend - That's crazy! Your life is going to be insane!
Jeff - Also correct.
Friend - Do you guys have to move?
Jeff - Nah, we're good for a few years at least. By the way, I beat Jesus Christ in an arm wrestle last night, won fifty bucks.
Friend - Uh, ok. So do you have to buy a bigger car or can you fit three car seats in the back?
Some variation of this conversation was had every fifteen minutes all night, and I am not even starting to get tired of it, its still a lot of fun to talk about it with everyone.
I had to post this picture of the stroller we are getting, it is nuts.
This thing looks like something tiny bobsledders would use for dryland training. But, if we ever feel like leaving the house again, we don't have a lot of choice in the matter. We are still just starting to buy some stuff and price things out, and it is amazing how much stuff you "have to have". You can be legally crucified here for not having the right bedding from the Babies R Us catalogue, but the last time I was in Mexico I saw a family of seven on a 50cc scooter carrying an air hockey table. There has to be some happy medium we can find here. As you have most likely assumed, Pookie has taken charge of these tasks, and that really is for the best.
I have a snapping hangover and The Shining is starting on TV, so that is as far as we go for today. It was great seeing a lot of you this weekend, keep it real.
Pookie and I are back from rodeo weekend back home in Pincher Creek, where I successfully managed to spend about nine hours at the grounds without seeing a single rodeo event of any kind. I also managed to launch a two day assault on my liver, burn a stupid looking reverse raccoon sunglass tan onto my face, and limp back to Calgary on as little sleep as possible. It was great seeing so many familiar faces, especially some friends we haven't seen in years. Pookie and I couldn't believe how many people knew all about the triplets, and how excited people are that all this going on.
Typical Conversation:
Friend - Holy shit man, I heard you're having triplets, is that true?
Jeff - (Slightly slurring his words) Yes, that's correct.
Friend - That's crazy! Your life is going to be insane!
Jeff - Also correct.
Friend - Do you guys have to move?
Jeff - Nah, we're good for a few years at least. By the way, I beat Jesus Christ in an arm wrestle last night, won fifty bucks.
Friend - Uh, ok. So do you have to buy a bigger car or can you fit three car seats in the back?
Some variation of this conversation was had every fifteen minutes all night, and I am not even starting to get tired of it, its still a lot of fun to talk about it with everyone.
I had to post this picture of the stroller we are getting, it is nuts.
I have a snapping hangover and The Shining is starting on TV, so that is as far as we go for today. It was great seeing a lot of you this weekend, keep it real.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
So, Bloggin' huh?
Brandi (who will from now on be referred to by her preferred name, Pookie), has brought up a couple ideas I should probably include in our little blog here. We have had a month longer than everyone else to start adjusting to the idea of having three infants march into our home like Germans into France, and Pookie has been planning away from the beginning.
We have had a lot of questions on how things are going to be in Babytown, and I thought I would answer a few before I start operating on one hour of sleep per week and nobody wants to read my complaining anymore.
Question 1: Wow, is Brandi going back to work?
A: Shit no. By month three she might want to start putting in night shifts at the acid mine to get a break from changing diapers, but it is not going to happen. Three babies being fed every three hours, changed 10 times a day each, and a serious skunk infestation under the front steps means Pookie will be more than busy until roughly 2045. More on the skunks later.
Question 2: Do you know their sexes?
A: Nope. We probably won't know for another six weeks, and even then it is tougher to tell than with singletons. With three in there, it is difficult to get a good angle, so it will probably take a little longer for the right shot. If they are anything like the other men in the family, they will strolling about the house naked for no reason all too soon anyway.
(If you are the person notorious for this, you know who you are, and so does anyone else that was foolish enough to think that knocking and yelling into the house was any reason to believe you would put a towel on.)
Questions 3: Do you need to move?
A: Not for a few years at least. Our place is big enough to hold the fam-damily for as long as it needs to, so that is a major potential source of stress we don't have to deal with. Plus, what kid doesn't love bunk beds?
Question 4: How is Brandi feeling?
A: Feeling pretty good overall, but she is hungry every two hours. Odd to think that she is eating for four people, but I am still eating more than Brandi, Dusty and Rocky combined. I must be getting stronger.
Question Five: Do you have names picked out?
A: Not quite yet. I have a brother named Donny, so naturally have been running a subtle campaign for Huey, Dewey and Lewey, and am running into serious resistance. How awesome would it be to have a picture with Huey, Dewey, Lewey and Uncle Donald? Not awesome at all seems to be the consensus. When we know how many boys and how many girls are on the way we can narrow it down.
Don't be shy about asking us other questions (except the one about whether they are natural babies or not, I feel I addressed that adequately yesterday), or post a comment if you want, we are having a lot of fun hearing from everyone.
We have had a lot of questions on how things are going to be in Babytown, and I thought I would answer a few before I start operating on one hour of sleep per week and nobody wants to read my complaining anymore.
Question 1: Wow, is Brandi going back to work?
A: Shit no. By month three she might want to start putting in night shifts at the acid mine to get a break from changing diapers, but it is not going to happen. Three babies being fed every three hours, changed 10 times a day each, and a serious skunk infestation under the front steps means Pookie will be more than busy until roughly 2045. More on the skunks later.
Question 2: Do you know their sexes?
A: Nope. We probably won't know for another six weeks, and even then it is tougher to tell than with singletons. With three in there, it is difficult to get a good angle, so it will probably take a little longer for the right shot. If they are anything like the other men in the family, they will strolling about the house naked for no reason all too soon anyway.
(If you are the person notorious for this, you know who you are, and so does anyone else that was foolish enough to think that knocking and yelling into the house was any reason to believe you would put a towel on.)
Questions 3: Do you need to move?
A: Not for a few years at least. Our place is big enough to hold the fam-damily for as long as it needs to, so that is a major potential source of stress we don't have to deal with. Plus, what kid doesn't love bunk beds?
Question 4: How is Brandi feeling?
A: Feeling pretty good overall, but she is hungry every two hours. Odd to think that she is eating for four people, but I am still eating more than Brandi, Dusty and Rocky combined. I must be getting stronger.
Question Five: Do you have names picked out?
A: Not quite yet. I have a brother named Donny, so naturally have been running a subtle campaign for Huey, Dewey and Lewey, and am running into serious resistance. How awesome would it be to have a picture with Huey, Dewey, Lewey and Uncle Donald? Not awesome at all seems to be the consensus. When we know how many boys and how many girls are on the way we can narrow it down.
Don't be shy about asking us other questions (except the one about whether they are natural babies or not, I feel I addressed that adequately yesterday), or post a comment if you want, we are having a lot of fun hearing from everyone.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Triplets - Verified Via Magic Picture Box
Having an ultrasound with three babies sharing the big screen is definitely a lot more fun to watch if you have been notified beforehand that there are in fact three babies in there. I couldn't help but notice Brandi was in a much less severe state of shock than the last one, and at no point did the ultrasound tech yell " Holy Sideways Donkey Shit!!! There's a party in there!!!"
Once I realized that the life altering, colon-twisting shocks had already been dealt out, we settled in for the good news. Three healthy, non Downs Syndrome suffering, big headed McCrimmons that were too lazy to roll towards the camera for their close-up. When you have three on the way, the 12 week ultrasound is pretty important, so mom and dad were pretty happy campers.
The ultrasounds are going to be very frequent, there is really no way to keep an eye on the new people without them. I am happy to have as many as they want to do, it's like seeing your kids in a digital fish bowl, if you happen to be a colourblind drunk.
Side note - don't ask if we conceived naturally, it makes it sound like their real father was a cyborg that travelled back in time to father a child that would someday lead the human resistance against their machine overlords. We brought a little technology into the mix and got a three for one deal, we can't help being thrifty!
New update soon, but that is the big news for now.
Once I realized that the life altering, colon-twisting shocks had already been dealt out, we settled in for the good news. Three healthy, non Downs Syndrome suffering, big headed McCrimmons that were too lazy to roll towards the camera for their close-up. When you have three on the way, the 12 week ultrasound is pretty important, so mom and dad were pretty happy campers.
The ultrasounds are going to be very frequent, there is really no way to keep an eye on the new people without them. I am happy to have as many as they want to do, it's like seeing your kids in a digital fish bowl, if you happen to be a colourblind drunk.
Side note - don't ask if we conceived naturally, it makes it sound like their real father was a cyborg that travelled back in time to father a child that would someday lead the human resistance against their machine overlords. We brought a little technology into the mix and got a three for one deal, we can't help being thrifty!
New update soon, but that is the big news for now.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Day One of the New Normal: Monday, July 12 2010 - The Ultrasound to End All Ultrasounds
Okay, Brandi, here is the heartbeat. Oh! There's another heartbeat here! And Jesus Harold Christ, there is another one!
Congratulations, you have triplets!!!
Meanwhile, the Papa-to-be is diligently plugging away at work, blissfully unaware that had slept his last anxiety-free sleep the night before.
Brandi called me right after the appointment, overcome with what I will call joyish-holyshit-shock, and let me know that we had three little miracles steaming towards us. I remember muttering a few incoherent words of support, dropping multiple obscenities, and taking a minute to contemplate whether to shit or go blind.
Fast forward to August 15th, and we have now had a month to get used to the idea of going from a two person family to a five person family in an instant, and we are getting more excited by the day. Having three little people pulling Rocky`s ears at once is something we can`t wait for, and we know how lucky we are.
What we are not excited for are the diapers. 10 diapers per day per baby is 30 per day, 900 per month, 10 800 per year. Literally tens of thousands of diapers to change. I suggested potty training them the second they come home, or perhapes lining the entire place in plastic and just hosing it off a few times a day. These kids are fortunate Brandi runs the show around here.
We have had a huge showing of support from family and friends, and if anyone can manage triplets, it`s Pookie (Brandi). Right now we are in the mode of doing what we can to prep the house for the hurricane, making sure Brandi stuffs her face every 3 minutes around the clock, and self-medicating Papa with low-end scotch when reality periodically sets in and I get the fear. If you see me rocking an ill-fitting Ed Hardy shirt, hair plugs and a stupid look on my face, I have officially become Jon Gosselin.
So far, so good. We are now playing the waiting game (because I couldn`t find Hungry Hungry Hippos), and looking forward to another ultrasound tomorrow. If McCrimmon genetics come into play, we should be able to see their eyebrows by now.
I hope everyone likes the blog, and will be sure to keep you informed!
Papa Jeff
Okay, Brandi, here is the heartbeat. Oh! There's another heartbeat here! And Jesus Harold Christ, there is another one!
Congratulations, you have triplets!!!
Meanwhile, the Papa-to-be is diligently plugging away at work, blissfully unaware that had slept his last anxiety-free sleep the night before.
Brandi called me right after the appointment, overcome with what I will call joyish-holyshit-shock, and let me know that we had three little miracles steaming towards us. I remember muttering a few incoherent words of support, dropping multiple obscenities, and taking a minute to contemplate whether to shit or go blind.
Fast forward to August 15th, and we have now had a month to get used to the idea of going from a two person family to a five person family in an instant, and we are getting more excited by the day. Having three little people pulling Rocky`s ears at once is something we can`t wait for, and we know how lucky we are.
What we are not excited for are the diapers. 10 diapers per day per baby is 30 per day, 900 per month, 10 800 per year. Literally tens of thousands of diapers to change. I suggested potty training them the second they come home, or perhapes lining the entire place in plastic and just hosing it off a few times a day. These kids are fortunate Brandi runs the show around here.
We have had a huge showing of support from family and friends, and if anyone can manage triplets, it`s Pookie (Brandi). Right now we are in the mode of doing what we can to prep the house for the hurricane, making sure Brandi stuffs her face every 3 minutes around the clock, and self-medicating Papa with low-end scotch when reality periodically sets in and I get the fear. If you see me rocking an ill-fitting Ed Hardy shirt, hair plugs and a stupid look on my face, I have officially become Jon Gosselin.
So far, so good. We are now playing the waiting game (because I couldn`t find Hungry Hungry Hippos), and looking forward to another ultrasound tomorrow. If McCrimmon genetics come into play, we should be able to see their eyebrows by now.
I hope everyone likes the blog, and will be sure to keep you informed!
Papa Jeff
So, there's three heartbeats? That's counting yours right?
Brandi and I are very lucky to have a lot of friends and family, and we both agreed that starting a blog was the best way to keep everyone informed. Our little happy family is about to become a big happy family, and for those interested in a commentary from inside the madhouse, this blog is for you.
The background:
Three lightning quick months ago, Brandi let me know that after over two years of trying, we were finally pregnant. For anyone that has not dealt with fertility issues, believe me when I say that trying to knock the wife up is not all fun and games. I was heading up to the fertility clinic for "special" appointments more often than I was getting my hair cut, and Brandi was getting jacked up on hormones that seem to be the fertility industry's version of chemotherapy. Brandi`s appointments and medications seemed to go on forever, but she toughed through it like a true champ. No matter how sore her knuckles got, she let me know loved me.
This wonderful process let us to the positive pregnancy test we waited so long for, and we were both cautiously elated. I suddenly had some free time where before I was "booked" from 8:00 to 8:03 the following Tuesday morning, Brandi could lay off the ovulation crack, and we could look forward to the fun part.
The saga begins.
The background:
Three lightning quick months ago, Brandi let me know that after over two years of trying, we were finally pregnant. For anyone that has not dealt with fertility issues, believe me when I say that trying to knock the wife up is not all fun and games. I was heading up to the fertility clinic for "special" appointments more often than I was getting my hair cut, and Brandi was getting jacked up on hormones that seem to be the fertility industry's version of chemotherapy. Brandi`s appointments and medications seemed to go on forever, but she toughed through it like a true champ. No matter how sore her knuckles got, she let me know loved me.
This wonderful process let us to the positive pregnancy test we waited so long for, and we were both cautiously elated. I suddenly had some free time where before I was "booked" from 8:00 to 8:03 the following Tuesday morning, Brandi could lay off the ovulation crack, and we could look forward to the fun part.
The saga begins.
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