Hello, all! Hope you've enjoyed your turkey sandwiches, turkey dressing, turkey soup, turkey hash, etc. It's a shame Christmas is so close to Thanksgiving, because I really don't want to see another turkey before sometime in February. Maybe the Cattlemen's Association should run some kind of ad campaign touting a nice beef filet for Christmas. Something along the lines of "Beef...at least it's not turkey." Maybe the veggie farmers should get in on the act with "Salad, because you're not as young as you used to be and roughage is your friend." Okay, so advertising taglines aren't my forte...sue me.
Our holiday included dinner at our house, and an early Christmas with Aunt Marie (Ree Ree), since her next visit won't take place until spring. Jack got a genuine plastic "Go, Diego, Go!" watch and now informs us at all times of the day and night that it is, in fact, nine o'clock. Nine is his new favorite number, and comes immediately after two, but just before twenty. That puts his math skills roughly on par with mine.
Anyhow, since the bathtub incident, poor Jack has been placed on an every other night bath schedule because his dad can't take the strain of it every day. Unfortunately, things got hectic last night, and he is now three days out. The poor little thing asked for a bath right after breakfast this morning. My child had to ASK to be bathed. Moments like these highlight the fact that my mother of the year award may be delayed a few decades.
I should point out that I was under the weather yesterday, which threw everyone into survival mode -- ensuring that Saturday was a NO BATH day for most of the inhabitants of the Burrus Zoo. What I thought was a vicious 24 hour bug, has stretched into 48. But on the plus side, I'm now 4 lbs. below my starting weight with the triplets. I still have about 9 lbs. to go before I'm back at my pre-Jack weight, so cross your fingers for a 72 hour bug.
Just in case anyone is considering calling Child Services, the triplets got their bath this morning and Jack will absolutely, positively get one before bed tonight -- come what may. And we all know that could be just about ANYTHING, so I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Just Your Average Wednesday
I was recently asked to describe a typical day in our not-so-typical life. I responded with the usual -- what time we get up, the triplets' feeding schedule, Jack's school routine, etc. But at the end of day yesterday, I realized that what I described wasn't typical at all. Instead, I had described a day where nothing interesting happened, and those are few and far between. Let's recap Wednesday, shall we?
We fed the trips at 4 and no one wanted to go back to sleep. By 7 o'clock, they were hungry again, and we started feeding them, feeling as if it were just a continuation of the early morning meal. Just before eight, the nanny called in to say I-65 was closed, and due to the bad weather she wasn't sure she was comfortable trying to make it in via back roads. I agreed and told her to just stay home. Eight o'clock passed and Jack was still sleeping. Taking the weather and the fact that he still seemed to feel crummy from his recent respiratory infection into consideration, I decide to let him miss school once again. He woke just before 9, and we still had not been able to get all three trips down at once. Linda and I call it baby bingo when we lay one down and pick another one up. Now Jack was added to the mix, and Linda opted to work with him while I juggled triplets until the next feeding. Somehow, I got them all bathed and we made it through one more feeding and Jack's lunch (after which, he was promplty put down to nap), then it was time for the afternoon nanny (Josie) to show up.
Linda and I greeted her in our pajamas, having had no opportunity to bathe or change ourselves. Linda pointed out that she bravely sacrificed her shower window to wash bottles. I agreed that she made the right choice, and we pressed on through the afternoon. Josie started helping with the trips' next feeding when it became apparent, that after an hour of talking, singing and generally not sleeping, Jack was ready to get up from his so-called nap. She headed downstairs and Linda and I resumed our vigil. We realized that we had gone the entire day with a baby in our arms.
The afternoon passed with more of the same and night fell. Jack had his dinner and was ready for some mommy time. He was fussy and tired and wanted to be picked up and carried like the babies. As I was still a little sore from the gall bladder escapade, I had to tell him no, and his world crumbled. Finally, he managed to stop whining and mustered a coherent request. "Bath? Watee?" I hesitated. At a quarter after six, the nanny was gone and Jason was almost home. The trips' were having a rare moment of quiet, and my arms were actually empty. But the wise thing to do was wait until we had a third soldier in the fray before taking on this task. I looked at those beautiful blue eyes, still brimming with unshed tears, and decided "What could it hurt?" And so the die was cast.
I got Jack settled in the bath, gave him a quick scrub and washed his hair. I was looking forward to letting him play for the next few minutes until his daddy arrived. Then I heard them. Sam and Tom began their battle cries, and Linda called "When was the last time we fed them?" Unbelieveable!! Somehow the time had slipped my mind, and now I was needed in two places at once. Linda could handle feeding two at once, but she couldn't go to the kitchen to make the bottles. I couldn't leave Jack unattended in the bath, so we were in a quandary. I ran to the bedroom, and helped Linda quickly arrange Sam and Will (who was now awake and screaming as well) in a position that allowed her to see into the master bath where Jack was bathing. I quickly donned my Baby Bjorn, slid Tom into the straps, then raced to the kitchen to make bottles. I realized we didn't have enough formula, and quickly began to mix more. About this time, Jason came in from the garage, took one look at me, and burst out laughing. I had to smile too, and conscripted him into counting formula scoops while I stirred, so we wouldn't have to spend extra time squishing out lumps. We were midway through when the phone rang. It was the pediatrician whom I called three hours previously in a fit of desperation. We began conversing about possible solutions to the problem of non-stop fussiness, crying and eating. I left the formula in Jason's capable hands. About this time, I glanced down the hall to see Linda framed in the bedroom door shouting something I couldn't quite make out. She then bolted back toward the master bath. Jason dropped the spoon and sprinted after her. I briefly lost my train of thought, but decided they could handle whatever crisis without me, and finished discussing thickened formula and Zantac with Dr. Hamm.
After I hung up with him, I realized I had no clue if the formula was finished or if I still needed to add more powder, and so I wandered into the bedroom to ask Jason. The carnage was obvious...Linda was on her hands and knees scrubbing the bathtub while muttering unintelligibly under her breath. Jason stood looking stern yet faintly nauseated while intoning as menacingly as possible, "This is not funny, young man. This is very bad." There was a certain scent in the air, was it...poop?! Jack stood naked, unaffected by Jason's lecturing, pointing at his reflection in the mirror. "Jack!" he shouted, and laughed out loud. The triplets wailed hopefully for their bottles.
You can guess the rest. The tub was sterilized. Jack was re-bathed and put to bed. And in the aftermath, we analyzed the incident. Apparently, a boyish love of farting in the bathtub -- something his daddy swears he strongly discouraged -- resulted in the inevitable. We grimaced and shivered. We decided we didn't want the chinese food Jason brought home for dinner. Instead we all washed our hands several more times, and finished off the chocolate cake. We fed the trips once more, although we had to slice the nipples to make the thickened formula go through. We may have been overzealous, as the boys came close to funneling their bottles. But the task was finished, and we all went to bed to recharge and prepare for the next "typical" day at the Burrus Zoo.
We fed the trips at 4 and no one wanted to go back to sleep. By 7 o'clock, they were hungry again, and we started feeding them, feeling as if it were just a continuation of the early morning meal. Just before eight, the nanny called in to say I-65 was closed, and due to the bad weather she wasn't sure she was comfortable trying to make it in via back roads. I agreed and told her to just stay home. Eight o'clock passed and Jack was still sleeping. Taking the weather and the fact that he still seemed to feel crummy from his recent respiratory infection into consideration, I decide to let him miss school once again. He woke just before 9, and we still had not been able to get all three trips down at once. Linda and I call it baby bingo when we lay one down and pick another one up. Now Jack was added to the mix, and Linda opted to work with him while I juggled triplets until the next feeding. Somehow, I got them all bathed and we made it through one more feeding and Jack's lunch (after which, he was promplty put down to nap), then it was time for the afternoon nanny (Josie) to show up.
Linda and I greeted her in our pajamas, having had no opportunity to bathe or change ourselves. Linda pointed out that she bravely sacrificed her shower window to wash bottles. I agreed that she made the right choice, and we pressed on through the afternoon. Josie started helping with the trips' next feeding when it became apparent, that after an hour of talking, singing and generally not sleeping, Jack was ready to get up from his so-called nap. She headed downstairs and Linda and I resumed our vigil. We realized that we had gone the entire day with a baby in our arms.
The afternoon passed with more of the same and night fell. Jack had his dinner and was ready for some mommy time. He was fussy and tired and wanted to be picked up and carried like the babies. As I was still a little sore from the gall bladder escapade, I had to tell him no, and his world crumbled. Finally, he managed to stop whining and mustered a coherent request. "Bath? Watee?" I hesitated. At a quarter after six, the nanny was gone and Jason was almost home. The trips' were having a rare moment of quiet, and my arms were actually empty. But the wise thing to do was wait until we had a third soldier in the fray before taking on this task. I looked at those beautiful blue eyes, still brimming with unshed tears, and decided "What could it hurt?" And so the die was cast.
I got Jack settled in the bath, gave him a quick scrub and washed his hair. I was looking forward to letting him play for the next few minutes until his daddy arrived. Then I heard them. Sam and Tom began their battle cries, and Linda called "When was the last time we fed them?" Unbelieveable!! Somehow the time had slipped my mind, and now I was needed in two places at once. Linda could handle feeding two at once, but she couldn't go to the kitchen to make the bottles. I couldn't leave Jack unattended in the bath, so we were in a quandary. I ran to the bedroom, and helped Linda quickly arrange Sam and Will (who was now awake and screaming as well) in a position that allowed her to see into the master bath where Jack was bathing. I quickly donned my Baby Bjorn, slid Tom into the straps, then raced to the kitchen to make bottles. I realized we didn't have enough formula, and quickly began to mix more. About this time, Jason came in from the garage, took one look at me, and burst out laughing. I had to smile too, and conscripted him into counting formula scoops while I stirred, so we wouldn't have to spend extra time squishing out lumps. We were midway through when the phone rang. It was the pediatrician whom I called three hours previously in a fit of desperation. We began conversing about possible solutions to the problem of non-stop fussiness, crying and eating. I left the formula in Jason's capable hands. About this time, I glanced down the hall to see Linda framed in the bedroom door shouting something I couldn't quite make out. She then bolted back toward the master bath. Jason dropped the spoon and sprinted after her. I briefly lost my train of thought, but decided they could handle whatever crisis without me, and finished discussing thickened formula and Zantac with Dr. Hamm.
After I hung up with him, I realized I had no clue if the formula was finished or if I still needed to add more powder, and so I wandered into the bedroom to ask Jason. The carnage was obvious...Linda was on her hands and knees scrubbing the bathtub while muttering unintelligibly under her breath. Jason stood looking stern yet faintly nauseated while intoning as menacingly as possible, "This is not funny, young man. This is very bad." There was a certain scent in the air, was it...poop?! Jack stood naked, unaffected by Jason's lecturing, pointing at his reflection in the mirror. "Jack!" he shouted, and laughed out loud. The triplets wailed hopefully for their bottles.
You can guess the rest. The tub was sterilized. Jack was re-bathed and put to bed. And in the aftermath, we analyzed the incident. Apparently, a boyish love of farting in the bathtub -- something his daddy swears he strongly discouraged -- resulted in the inevitable. We grimaced and shivered. We decided we didn't want the chinese food Jason brought home for dinner. Instead we all washed our hands several more times, and finished off the chocolate cake. We fed the trips once more, although we had to slice the nipples to make the thickened formula go through. We may have been overzealous, as the boys came close to funneling their bottles. But the task was finished, and we all went to bed to recharge and prepare for the next "typical" day at the Burrus Zoo.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
What's Next...Locusts?
I hate how long it's been since my last blog entry. I've been working on one over the course of the last week, but haven't finished it given that in roughly that period of time we've had the following incidences:
Day 1-Jack caught a cold at mother's day out
Day3-Sam, Tom and Will caught Jack's cold due to excessive affection from their older brother (including, but not limited to sneezing on their pacifiers, coughing in their face, and wiping snot on their heads while hugging them and saying, "Ahh, buddies. You awite?)
Day 3 to present-Sam, Tom and WIll stop sleeping due to cold symptoms.
Day 4 to present-Mom and Dad become zombies due to Sam, Tom and WIll not sleeping
Day 6-Sam has to go to the ER with a fever (where a spinal tap was discussed but not done, due in part to my flipping out over the idea)
Day 8-Jack spiked a fever just yesterday, and is now on antibiotics. On the upside, he also got cough syrup with codeine so he wouldn't wake himself up coughing at night. When we give it to him, he likes to turn around in a circle and say, "Whoa!" as it takes effect.
Day 9-I get my gall bladder removed. That's right, I have to get freakin' surgery. Granted, it was outpatient, and I made it home by 4:30 p.m. But honestly...isn't this getting just a little ridiculous?
At least I lost most of my baby weight because of it. Isn't there always a bright side? Anyhow, please don't give up on us. I've got some great new pictures of Jack at Halloween and the trips just chillin' that I have to show off. There's the chance my next blog entry will be on the new Mac site. If I can swing it, I'll be sure to post the new web address here.
Incidentally, today is Jason's birthday. So wish him all the best when you next see him. He was joking about his less than happy birthday as he sat with me in the recovery room. When I reminded him that we had to put our cat to sleep on my birthday back in June, he decided it's lucky we only have one birthday per year. After all, I've only got a finite number of non-essential organs. Should I get an urgent message from my appendix sometime soon, I'll be sure to let you know.
Day 1-Jack caught a cold at mother's day out
Day3-Sam, Tom and Will caught Jack's cold due to excessive affection from their older brother (including, but not limited to sneezing on their pacifiers, coughing in their face, and wiping snot on their heads while hugging them and saying, "Ahh, buddies. You awite?)
Day 3 to present-Sam, Tom and WIll stop sleeping due to cold symptoms.
Day 4 to present-Mom and Dad become zombies due to Sam, Tom and WIll not sleeping
Day 6-Sam has to go to the ER with a fever (where a spinal tap was discussed but not done, due in part to my flipping out over the idea)
Day 8-Jack spiked a fever just yesterday, and is now on antibiotics. On the upside, he also got cough syrup with codeine so he wouldn't wake himself up coughing at night. When we give it to him, he likes to turn around in a circle and say, "Whoa!" as it takes effect.
Day 9-I get my gall bladder removed. That's right, I have to get freakin' surgery. Granted, it was outpatient, and I made it home by 4:30 p.m. But honestly...isn't this getting just a little ridiculous?
At least I lost most of my baby weight because of it. Isn't there always a bright side? Anyhow, please don't give up on us. I've got some great new pictures of Jack at Halloween and the trips just chillin' that I have to show off. There's the chance my next blog entry will be on the new Mac site. If I can swing it, I'll be sure to post the new web address here.
Incidentally, today is Jason's birthday. So wish him all the best when you next see him. He was joking about his less than happy birthday as he sat with me in the recovery room. When I reminded him that we had to put our cat to sleep on my birthday back in June, he decided it's lucky we only have one birthday per year. After all, I've only got a finite number of non-essential organs. Should I get an urgent message from my appendix sometime soon, I'll be sure to let you know.
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