"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.
Monday, August 30, 2010
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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