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.
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