Monday, October 30, 2006

Don't let PETA find me.....

Remembering Murtle started me thinking about all the other pets that I have had in my life. I really do like animals, I just did not have good luck with pets. I have had lots of luck with Baci, but my husband told me that I gave Baci gender identification issues because I dress him. YES- I DRESS MY CHIHUAHUA-BACK OFF! He gets cold.

Anyway, It all started with Ojo - poodle #1. Dad went for ice cream, brought back the dog. Things went well until we came back one year from vacation and Ojo had turned the house into a flea carnival. Ojo went to a nice family that lived next to my uncle.

Pepe, the horse across the street got loose and ended up on our deck. Scared the crap out of my mother when she opened the door. Then the damn thing bit my pinky finger when I tried to feed it carrots. No one told me about the "palm down" procedure.

Mitzi- poodle #2. Sniff, This was the best dog. However, the neighbor's German Shepard decided that it looked like lunch. I really don't want to get into it.

Buffy- poodle #3 (do you see a trend?). Buffy was a chocolate poodle, and supposedly chocolate poodles are the smartest of them all. The breeder even told us she was paper trained. If we had thought about it, we would have realized that the breeder's entire house was covered in newspaper. Apparently we had SUCKER written all over our face.

My mom took a hiatus from animals at this point.

Then came Bobby.

Bobby was a cross between a gorilla and a goat, with an overbite to match. And he smelled like a rotten dumpster. Bobby lasted 23 hours until my father came home and yelled- "What the hell is that!"

By this time I was living in Bel Air and Drew decided, at the mature age of 25, that he wanted a gerbil. To me, gerbils are rats with fancy names. But, we got one, complete with the little gerbil house, little gerbil wheel, and all the little things that gerbils enjoy. Quigley was NOT a smart gerbil. First, he peed in the wheel than ran in it. Then, while Drew and I were in Jamaica, he chews his way out of his cage. We found him 3 weeks later. He dove to his death in our sump pump.

My brother's ex-girlfriend's domesticated miniature bobcat ends up in my mom's bathroom. Again- not a pretty scene.

Xerox- the free cat I took in for my receptionist. Cute cat until it shed it's ENTIRE EAR in my living room.

I always wondered why no one had us pet sit for them.

And I still haven't told you the story of Sammy the Parrot.........

Sunday, October 29, 2006

My soapbox for the day

There is a lot of brew ha ha going on about the number of embryos doctors should transfer during IVF. Having been faced with this decision, I thought I would throw my 2 cents in.

I had a nightmare getting pregnant. Long story I will get into another time- but it was hell. On IVF try #3- I remember telling my doctor to put all 7 embryos back in- I didn't care if I ended up with the Brady Bunch. I just wanted a child(ren). We decided on 3, due to my previous failures. Was I aware of the increased chance of twins (20%) and triplets (only 5%!) - absolutely. My embryos during previous attempts looked like scrambled eggs, even though my RE during those times said they were "textbook perfect" Maybe comic book perfect, but definitely not textbook.

I remember looking on the internet for ways of financing attempt #4 when the call came.

I was pregnant. Very low positive, but positive nonetheless. My RE thought it was a singleton. Another long story for another time.

Fast forward.......

I now am the proud mother of 29.5 weeker triplets. Would I change anything- No. If I could go back and only transfer 2 embryos , would I- No. I knew what I faced, my mother has been in Peds for 20+ years. I was not jaded, nor uneducated about the risk factors. Nor did I ever consider selective reduction. I remember telling my mom that I would rather have 1 hour with them then to have to reduce, just because"there was too many". After the tumultuous pregnancy that I was having before I found out I was pregnant with triplets, I knew there was a reason for all of it.

I was fortunate that I had a wealth of knowledge surrounding me from my RE, my Perinatalogist and every other specialist in the book that I saw. True, high order pregnancies are difficult, but I think that rather than guilt REs into only putting back 1 or 2 embryos, perhaps more time should be spent getting more information into the hands of prospective parents so that they can be the ones with the final say.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

What the hell was I thinking.......

I decided today to list all my maternity clothes on Ebay. Why? BECAUSE I will never need them again. Also, because I shudder in sheer embarassment every time I see them in my closet by some of the clothing choices I made when I was preggo.

If it was floral, I bought it.

If it looked like a table cloth, I wore it.

I don't know why I made some of my disatrous fashion decisions. I did really well with maternity jeans and pants, but once I was left to my own devises to purchase a shirt, all common sense went right down the comode. If I just relied on my ol' trusty black and brown staples, I would have been fine. But no, I decided that I needed to rival Thelma Harper from Mama's Familty over who wore flowered prints the best.

Case in point....

I HAD to have this skirt. Even when my friend Dena, who was also pregnant (we were 2 days apart) tried to talk me out of it- I was persistant. I thought it was the cutest maternity skirt EVER made. Looking back, I now realize why it was on clearance for $6.00. Bees wouldn't even pollanate the thing.

It can be all yours for $2.99 on Ebay.

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Jimminy Crickets!

ok- so those who know me have a pretty good understanding of my fears of all bugs. From ant to lady bugs, and all in between- they creep me out. I still shake my shoes out before I put them on in case there is something hiding in there. I once even beat my poor boob at work one day because I had on a Polo shirt and from my peripheral vision I thought the pony was a spider (I'm still nursing bruises).
Anyway, tonight Drew and I stole away for a quick bite at the Ol' Red Lobster. I even indulged in a glass of wine. I am in the midst of a very important coversation with him about something of which I can't even remember when he gently reaches over and brushes off my shirt. My first thought was, "Aww, how sweet, he flicked bisquit off my shirt." I kept talking, one, because I do not shut up, and two, because I was now on glass numero dos. This is when he decides to tell me that he flicked a CRICKET off my shirt! A GIANT CRICKET attack me in the Red Lobster!!! He had a look of relief on his face that I did not see the cricket because he would have been covered in Chedder Bay bisquits and salad dressing when my flailing body went egg rolling on the floor.

A] Why would a cricket be in Red Lobster?
B] Of all the diners, why pick me?

Rule of thumb- If for some reason I am ever with any of you, and if a GIGANTIC lizard, bug, rodent, snake, the Burger King from the BK commercials, crab or creepy wiggly creature is anywhere on my body...PROMISE me that you will just remove it and NEVER EVER tell me.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Ringling Brothers here I come!

If I have predisposed Dominic to having talented toes, then I am afraid I may have set Ryan up for a career in the circus. See, the child is the happiest when he is in his swing. He laughs, he giggles, he sings. Aside from the fact that he goes through sets of D batteries almost once a week, I never thought it was a problem. Or it could be because I call him Chunky Monkey. But yesterday, when we put him in the baby glider, he was trying to grab the overhead bar with both hands. To swing from it? Or to beat me senseless for making him wear a sailor suit in his 2 month pictures? ( Alright, looking back, probably NOT the best choice in attire, since he did look like someone from the Village People). Anyway, the boy is a CLOWN, a certifiable ham and he knows it. Check out the progression from birth to now....

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

No rest for the weary.....

Ryan decided to sing ALL NIGHT LONG in his baby papasan chair. Needless to say I was chugging a very caffienated Coke at work by 7:10am. Therefore, I have no wit or humor this evening. I was going to take the lazy way out and copy one of my old posts from the other website but instead, I thought I would provide some pics of baby Frank Sinatra himself:

Monday, October 16, 2006

Baby neck boppys

If you have never tried to feed 3 screaming babies at one time, then I do not think that you have thoroughly experienced life. Anytime you would like to check this off your "to do list" let me know and you are more than welcome to come to my house and take a feeding.

Since there are no volunteers beating down the door, I had to get a little creative. Plus, I was becoming a 24-7 formula fountain, feeding at all hours of the day. So 1st I tried these bottles called Pacifeeders.

They are supposed to be a "hands free feeding system". FINALLY, a solution to my problem! Ha! They do not tell you that you will need a doctorate in nuclear science to figure out how to get the formula up the straw. These were probably rejected from NASA so they repackaged them to unsuspecting triplet moms like myself. You have to squeeze the nipple, release, and repeat. Anyone overhearing my husband and I trying to read these directions would have thrown holy water on us and told us to repent for our sins.

So after this $60.00 failure, I sought the advice of other triplet moms. My friend Michelle directed me to my next hands free feeding apparatus attempt. I went to Baby Depot and purchased them. I could not wait to try them! I was so excited! WOO!!! HOO!!! (just visualize me doing the shakin' my booty happy dance right now).


You would have thought I was pulling Ryan's toenails out they way he screamed,

Dominic had a look of fear on his face

and Aspen decided to rebel by going to sleep.

Needless to say, it is a work in progress.....

Sunday, October 15, 2006

The Pink Pony

We bought Aspen a pony today!

Ok, well, actually, it's, um, like a stuffed pink pony. But she's too young to know the difference yet anyway. Plus, it doesn't need to be fed, never poops, and because I think there is some strange county ordinance about having livestock in the backyard. Too bad that is not the same for Baltimore County since my favorite brother (well, technically he is my only brother) still has Sammy the Frozen Parrot in the freezer. But that's a story for another time.

I don't remember asking for a pony when I was a kid. Which was probably a good thing since my dad's best friend collapsed my ENTIRE swimming pool with the back of his truck. God only knows what unfortunate fate the horse may have met. Pets did not do well at my house. Once, I found a turtle and I brought it home (this was before I realized that turtles aren't the best smelling creatures on the face of the earth). My father told me it needed to be with it's "turtle friends" and to paint a bid red M on it's back ( I had creatively named it Murtle- hey, give me a break, I was 8). So I set it free. Only to ride my bike the next week and see a strange flat looking turtle with remnants of red nail polish smooshed like a pancake in the middle of Spring Avenue. Looking back, I am pretty sure that there were mysterious Lincoln TownCar tire marks.

R.I.P Murtle the Turtle.

I hope the pink pony fairs much better.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Holy Toes!

When I was pregnant and about the size of a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, I became very resourceful. This included avoiding bending at all costs. So I pretty much used my toes to pick up anything. Pens, earrings, clothes, you name it, I could pick it up with my toes. Don't be jealous. After all, I do have an unfair advantage since I did take intermediate gymnastics as a child. So the time on the balance beam did pay off.

Anyway, the problem now is that I think I passed it on to Dominic. So maybe it is a genetic thing. The boy can Houdini out of socks in 1.3 seconds flat. Short of scotch taping them to his legs, I have no idea how to keep them on his feet. On numerous occasions I have had complete strangers run up behind me and hand his socks back to me. I guess he leaves a trail of socks in public places in case we get lost. I also catch him with his oxygen tube between his toes, as well as his blankets.

It's not so much a huge problem now, but I am a little concerned about when he starts school if this habit has not stopped. I can see this conversation now..

ring ring...

"Hello Mrs. Williams, this is Dominic's teacher."
"Hello, is there a problem Miss Teacher?"
"Yesterday in the cafeteria, Dominic ate his entire lunch holding the spork with his toes, and it upset the Lunch Lady."

So I guess only time will tell. Today I found them up by his ears. Maybe he thinks they go someplace other than feet.

Friday, October 13, 2006

OMG! I'm a blogger!

Since I have never been accused of having nothing to say, I thought I would give this whole blog thing a try. Some of my other triplet mom friends have them and if they have the time, I figured I could probably find some time also, After all, IT"S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANY OTHER FREAKIN' THING TO DO! Well, besides my very expensive scrapbooking addiction (shoulda stuck with the graphic design degree in college- would have saved some money!)

So there is my formal blog introduction. I may even allow Drew to post on here also.

When he is done with his honey-do list.