Mini soda

Teaching kids about government and geography is a bit like playing Password.

He's like the teacher of the country. He makes sure we follow the rules. He tries to keep us safe and is, um... a very smart guy.

The President?

Ding ding ding ding!!!!

The kids still walk around saying President Obama is very smart.

I swear I'm not brainwashing them.

Anyway, we went to a wedding in Minnesota this past weekend. I figured it was a good opportunity to teach the girls just how BIG states are (measured by how long the drive is). I was in the middle of explaining Wisconsin is where Grandpa Reuben's barn....

Look at all those spinners, Mom!

We drove down the center of a wind field. Dozens and dozens of windmills, as far as we could see.

They're simultaneously scary and beautiful.

When I told the girls that the wind spins the blades around and turns it into electricity, they were completely awestruck. And they should be. What an amazing concept. Even more amazing than the super fun subject of geography.

At the wedding reception, the girls spun and spun and spun. I thought for sure they were going to burn out, but like the windmills, that spinning is self-sustained.

They only took breaks to eat.

We spent the night talking to our good friend Timmay and the groom, Booker T. When I wasn't escaping to help Brian's relatives decorate the hall so I wouldn't have to listen to Mike and Tim rehash Brian's inability to cook Mac-n-Cheese yet again.

Pretty much one thing was constant: People were shocked at how long Mike's hair has gotten. It's gotta be at least three or four inches long. (That's what she said...)

Anyway, in years past, I would've hounded Mike to cut or at least trim his hair up before going to a wedding.

But it's starting to grow on me.

Especially since everyone teases him for looking a bit like the shaggy-headed Aaron Rodgers.

Doubly fun is that he's a Cowboys fan.

I'm not sure why he's suddenly decided to grow his hair out, but I told him if I catch him wearing my bras, I'm kicking his ass out.

UPDATE: Thanks to Ryan, we now have another Mike Twin... Elliot Yamin from American Idol.

Four tickets in exchange for my soul

The Packers won Superbowl XLV last night. Needless to say, I'm as happy as a leetle gurl in Spreengtime today.

Before I celebrate, I would like a moment of silence for all of my Steeler fan friends who have been exceptionally gracious at the loss. We'd been invited to a neighbor's house to watch the game, even though they were cheering for Pittsburgh. I ended up staying home to finish the baked chicken and half-ass-mashed potatoes (I played the "Mashmashmash run into the livingroom and back to the kitchen MASHMASHMASH" game) and by the time I had the food ready, I was so nauseous with anxiety I decided to stay home and rock in my chair.

It's probably for the best because I fell ill with a severe case of verbal diarrhea.

In my quest to swear less in front of my children, I found myself yelling much more wholesome things like Hooker! Hooker! Hooker! Hooker! Hooker! while jumping up and down.

Mike told me to sit before I injured myself.

He's one to talk... he was more anxious about the game than I was. He refused to go to bed until after the post-game wrap up even though he had to be up for work at 2:30.

In other news, I got a report from my parents, sister and Jeff. They drove down to Texas in hopes of getting 4 tickets to the game. They walked the parking lot for hours looking for sellers with no luck.

Unfortunately for them, the stadium crew wasn't able to set up over 850 of the "additional seats" that they'd pre-sold for $900 a ticket, leaving half of the stranded fans to be relocated throughout the stadium. That's 400 extra seats they had to pull off the regular market, which might explain why the Stub Hub had never seen such a large crowd waiting for tickets to come down to the "reasonable" price of $3600 each right around the time my family packed up their signs and went to a bar to scream with other shunned fans.

Other exciting points: the city seemed to be overwhelmed. No garbage receptacles for blocks. Few port-a-potties. Beer tents running out of beer at noon and shutting down rather than restocking. Cabbies rear-ending other vehicles and breaking the sound barrier. But I'm sure they've had a fun time and will remember this weekend forever. If they can survive the drive through ice-covered Oklahoma.

Since they're still out of town, I've got my parents' dog at my house for a few days yet. The dog is extremely lazy and sleeps all the time. Nonetheless, I can't wait to get her back home.

Our cat HATES sharing the house with the furry barking monster and I can hardly stand their drama.

They sleep the entire day away - the dog in her bed and the cat across the room in the chair with one eye keeping watch on the dog - but at night it's a showdown of hissing, barking and bleeding. I've already had to stop the dog's ear from bleeding where the cat clawed her for getting too close. Then I spent the next 30 minutes cleaning blood out of my carpeting and off the wood floor.

It's safe to say I'll never commit a murder in my own home and expect to cover it up. I'm still finding blood droplets and smears two days later, and we all know I never clean my floors properly, so I'll probably be finding more over the next couple weeks.

Um yeah, so if Mike ever goes missing, that's DOG blood spatter... for the record.

Although Mike's definitely added a few years to our marriage by his dedication to the Packers, even as a "Cowboys fan," if those still exist. I know deep down he loves the Pack. (Right below the layer of his subconscious that is his post-menopausal woman.)

It wasn't until the game was over that I realized the kids were still running around the house... and today is a SCHOOL DAY.

It was worth it.

Animal planet

I'm hoping this isn't a sign of things to come today, but I woke up this morning with a swollen lower lip. An hour later, I reached up to rub a tickly spot on my neck and came away with a blood-covered hand and collar bone. Then a woman cut me off in town and we both slammed on our brakes before I drove around the nose of her SUV, leaving her car parked in front of three oncoming school buses. Have I told you lately that people drive like morons in winter?

Can I curl up in the fetal position and wake up when it's tomorrow? I'm skeered...

I've been a busy busy girl taking care of all my animules.

Yesterday, I took the girls grocery shopping (and met an aunt to twins, of course... every parent/friend/coworker of twins comes out of the woodwork) before making my rounds.

First to Grandpa V's to take care of his kittens for the night. I made the girls stay in the truck.

Then to Auntie Stephie's house to take care of her kittens for the night and get the house key. I made the girls stay in the truck.

Finally, to my parents' house to steal their dog and her supplies. You guessed it. Girls in truck.

Of course, I was distracted locking up shop when the dog headed down the street and around and around my parked truck with flashers on. Alison was crying because she thought I'd lost the dog and I was screaming and stomping my foot while pulling the door knob to try to get my keys out, and the damned deaf dog was frolicking around in traffic.

I'd thought we'd gotten it all out of our system.

When we got home, it was cold and dark. Alison had to pee. Everyone was irritable. The kids got out first, and the dog was supposed to follow behind. She had other plans. The dog hopped down... then made a bee-line for the road and up the street. Trot, trot, trot.

So I was yelling to Alison, Go in the house and go potty. Just GO IN THE HOUSE! as I ran up the street chasing the dog in high heels and swearing at her under my breath and trying to make a happy voice at her like I wouldn't cut her once I got ahold of her collar. You're welcome for the profanities, neighbors.

As a bonus, the eventually-captured dog ran through our house chasing the cat and pissed on the carpet. Ya know, because we're all sorts of fun-having like that. I sent my parents a text message: The cat is following the dog around trying to intimidate her. Pretty sure this is gonna end in fisticuffs.

It did. Moochie did a flying wolenda leap, claws out, onto Indie's back with a hiss and a growl.

But I sure hope my family is having fun on their trip to the Superbowl...

I am so excited for this weekend and the big game. My neighbors are huge Steelers fans, and obviously our family is mostly Packer fans (we don't count Mike and his silly Cowboys which I think he does in part because he likes to irritate me), but we're getting together at their house for a Superbowl party.

I'm thinking of Green Bay-esque snacks I can bring. Any thoughts? I'll ponder my options while I curl up for a nap with the smelly dog.

Forecast: Death by snow. Or probably not.

See, this is what pisses me off about weather.

First off, it's just snow, y'all. We're not gonna die. Although from the crowd at our normally quiet local grocery store, you would've thought we were stocking up for the World's Biggest Frat Party. I was there to get supper for three days. Little Granny in a Plastic Hair Net was there to play Supermarket Sweep in the toilet paper aisle.

Secondly, Gran Turismo should be a required course in driver's ed. It was the many late hours into the mornings when Mike and I learned how to slide rear-wheel vehicles around corners. That's a skill that most people seem to lack. As is: going anywhere near the speed limit at the first mention of the S-word.

No, it's not the snow.

It's the ass-puckering cold air.

Our yard is FULL of delicious, fresh white snow. But can I throw my kids out there for a couple hours to play so I can get some peace and quiet? Not a chance. It was -285* last night. (Give or take.) I heard a weird noise ten minutes in and peeked out to see Emma standing in the middle of the yard crying for no apparent reason other than she was too cold to make the trip to the front door.

And it would be the perfect time to get the kids outside. Mike stayed at a (work-paid) hotel room the last two nights so he could make it back and forth to work. Even so, he said he got stuck twice in the parking lot. Karma!

Our cat is convinced she wants to go outside. Two days ago, I threw some recycleables into the garage, and as I was shutting the door, Moochie tried to dodge out. She didn't make it. Well, the first inch-and-a-half did... After getting her skull cracked, she didn't give up. So finally I plopped her into the snowbank just outside our front door.

She froze, all except her tail which poofed out like a raccoon's. No sudden movements! This snow bank will stop freezing my kitty-melon if it can't see me.

So instead of trying to sneak out of the house, she's begun mrrowing all through the house and attacking my laundry. Like she's pissed off she has to be inside. Newsflash, cat: you're not the only one.

The kids are back in school and I'm getting my husband back this evening... oddly enough, I'm glad it's business as usual. Especially with this here wonderful site. I haven't been online much since I've been staring at my dad's resume reading and rereading every sentence saying That sounds like total bullshit and A little too corny for the opening line. I'm nothing if not a perfectionist, after all.

And by the way, I had a laugh when Dad handed me the job posting, like that was sufficient to whip up my magical resume-writing powers. I need to know what the hell you DO all day, Scooter...

Did you know that resume writing is an actual job that people get paid for? Food for thought, to no one in particular.

It's alright, though. They're allowing me the honor of having their dog at my house to leave steaming doggie treats in my white, snow-covered lawn while they're at the bloody SUPERBOWL. But I ain't mad atcha.

I'm going to spend the next four hours in blissful silence. Unless, of course, Alison comes home from the little cough she had this morning. I'm crossing my fingers it was just from the dry air in our house. Or that she'll do anything in her power to stay in school since I told her that sick children do NOT get to play with Leapsters, and they have to spend the entire time in bed while reading or sleeping. Mwahahaha.

(She didn't cough once after that.)

Well, crap. Time to go do something productive...

I am the Resume' Whisperer

This morning felt like I was waking up from a long winter's nap.

I'm not sure if this qualifies, but I was out for TEN WHOLE HOURS last night. I was that wiped out after going to Chicago for one day. I can't imagine how exhausted I'll be if a bunch of us crazy triplet mommies go there for a whole weekend.

I need a nap just thinking about it.

But I'll tell you more about my trip tomorrow since none of the pictures are loaded and I'm currently typing this (in a hurry, of course) on my parents' laptop. They're "loaning" it back to me so I can write *cough*throw together a few notes on*ahem* my dad's promotion application.

I'm going to start charging for resumes. That could be a "job," right? A dollar a word and a five-spot every time I use "safety" or "team"...

I'm also watching Mike's dad's cats for 8 days twice a day. Plus my sister's cats for 6. And taking my parents' dog to our house for a week while they go to Dallas for the big game.

It's like Animal Planet around here. A dollar per turd in my lawn....

We're low on cash for a bit, so I'll take the pennies where I can find 'em. We have two budgets around here: No and Hell No. As in: Can we buy (insert any item here)? We're currently in Hell No mode.

Things were going fine. Thanks to the ladies who took me to Chicago, I only had about $230 in expenses. And Mike was scheduled for Mancation in two weeks to Kansas City.

Then I got in my car this morning when the brakes started screaming at me. So I U-turned back to Sears. $530 later, we have new rotars and brakes and a couple extra things I threw on for fun.

It wasn't a total loss. I spent over two hours in the mall and learned a lot about nose piercings and PS3 games by chatting with mall employees. I think the guy in Game Stop was just excited that a girl talked to him for more than 15 seconds... he even made sure to cover his ass crack when he bent down to grab a game.

In a coup, I convinced a stranger at a cell phone place to charge my phone on his personal cell charger.

Then I went back to Sears where I bent over and took it like a prison bitch in the wallet. As a parting gift, the mechanic dropped a ferocious butt bomb. Of course, I walked right through it. Couldn't escape from it, actually.

And a good afternoon to you, too, Sir...

Because I needed cheering (and I still needed to steal a key off Mike's ring) I stopped by Wendy's to buy lunch for Mike's coworkers. Nothing shocks a cashier like ordering 16 cheeseburgers, as I learned today. Is the tradition of buying food for fellow employees dead? You would've thought I'd ordered up a side of cow testicle with how befuddled it made people.

The funny part was watching the guys in the back piece together the burgers just like I do at home: assembly line style. Except without as much swearing and child-shooing.

I dropped them off, got my key, played with Al's cats, then got home in time to plug my computer in and blog for a few minutes before it's time to pick up the kids.

I'm so glad this day is over...

Oh wait, it's only 2:30.

Thursdays are the new Wednesdays

Yesterday at school, I spoke to Alison's teacher about possibly coming in another day each week. I'm sure it was because my brain-to-mouth filters were out of order after spending the previous 4 hours multitasking gluing and cutting and cutting and gluing while overseeing a group of kids playing a made-up game that involves counting and trading beans and rafts and bears, oh my! As soon as the words left my mouth, I had a flashback to the moment that morning when a boy had "rolled" his dice by chucking them through the air... I'd had to bite my tongue lest I haul them back to their classroom and get the hell outta there. It looks like I'll have a whole extra day to cherish those moments.

But it's all for the good of the kids. It's all for the kids. Just keep repeating that.

It was eye opening to have a candid conversation with Mrs. S over the state of their "art" programs. We used to do lots more art projects, but now we don't have time since, well... and she waved her hand over the thousands of workbook pages that I and another mom were sorting. They do a whole 30 minutes of Art Class every week. So the plan is that I will come in once a week on top of my Wednesdays to do JUST ART. Fun, right? I know. But I am royally pissed that our new-ish Governor (to whom I lovingly refer to as Chippy) has proposed a budget freeze on schools, meaning they'll have to cut programs due to built in cost of living increases for employees. And he wants to eliminate free 4 yr old preschool. Even Mike said people will just not send them because it would be too expensive.

Sigh. Anyway, one of my favorite parenting words is "garboflage." It's when you hide your kids' art projects under other papers in the trash so your kids don't know that you've tossed them out. I perform garboflaging every afternoon with their homework and some if the crappier art that makes its way home.

But after seeing how long it takes to make some of these things (our painted/colored/glued/written/stuffed/wrapped time capsules took weeks to put together), I have a new respect for the kids' art. And I will never throw any of their projects away. Ever. Because the thought that some parents would garboflage the art that the kids spent hours making with me kinda makes me want to punch myself in the throat for volunteering.

It's all for the kids, find your Zen place, it's all for the kids...

I want you to put that clusterfuck of noodles and paint on your Goddamned front door.

In other news, the Packers are going to the Superbowl, which is causing nothing short of hysterics in our family. During the last game, it was 'thrown out' by Jeff that he should buy tickets, especially since he's a Steelers fan. And then they won. And he booked a hotel room and is buying tickets. And my parents and aunt and uncle are going, too. They are all bloody insane. Now there's talk that the ticket seller was a scammer, so they're considering getting tickets for a party instead. I'll sit home happily and watch for footage of the crackheads on TV.

Although it would be kind of fun to go since we've got both Packers and Steelers fans, and my husband is a Cowboys fan and the SB is in Dallas....

Either way, I think this week is gonna be crazy busy.

Keep the Chicago suggestions coming; I can read comments from my phone but for whatever reason haven't been able to comment myself.

School cancelled. Apocalypse imminent.

It's days like this that reaffirm I am not cut out for a real job. Insomniaisamutherfucker.

I'm running on 90 minutes of broken sleep and coming down off what had to be a near-fatal high of caffeine yesterday. I thought I was vibrating because I was tired, and then I checked my pulse. Tachycardia, much?

I told Mike several times over the phone that I was headed to bed, only to wander around and clean. Exactly how I'd imagine a meth head.

All because these kids are trained to kill me on the weekends. Their idea of "play nicely so Mommy can make supper" is chasing the cat on their scooters until she scrambles up into the ceiling, at which point I have to take a ten-minute break to convince the (still-claw-sporting) cat to come down. Then Emma pesters me at least a dozen times a day because she wants chicken and pea pods for supper, and we don't have any chicken to speak of.

Nothing wears them out anymore. Playing outside. A game of Simon Says. Animal Action games. Artsy crapsy. Bathtime. Movies. Stories. Singing and dancing.

If anything, I'm freakin' exhausted and the kids are doing circles around my lifeless body lying in the fetal position mid-livingroom floor.

By the way, if you ever want to find out how not in shape you've gotten since high school, I highly encourage you to jump on one foot for as long as you can. Three times, ten times, I don't care. I thought my ankle was going to snap just thinking about it. Note to self: practice jumping on one foot.

So last night, there I was, wiped out and in the middle of a disaster. I gave up on anything resembling cleaning, gave the kids baths and haircuts, then painted all 40 of our toes and 40 of our fingernails. In rainbow colors, of course.

Once they were in bed, I started downing the energy drinks... then agitated around the house for six hours. I fell asleep for half an hour after the second airing of World News Now. Just long enough until the school folks loudly sent a text saying that school was delayed and then cancelled.

I live for Mondays. I was more than slightly disappointed.

So much for sleeping after the kids went to school. I would have gotten them to school if it required I strap a couple neighborhood dogs to a sled and mush our way there. I need my ALONE TIME!

Back to the makeovers...

Since long hair is SO not cool according to my 6-year-olds, Emma insisted she wanted her hair short "like Alison's." And I'm not sure if it's me being overtired or if they really do look that much alike, but I'm having problems telling them apart today, at least at a glance.

Even Kristin is hard to pick out if she's in motion, which is pretty much nonstop on the weekends. (I would like to apologize in advance to their teachers and classmates for any confusion.)

To make up for it, I gave the girls a very short but emphatic speech tonight that they DO NOT HAVE TO DRESS ALIKE. Let's see if it works, since tonight, I insisted they pick out their own clothes from now on.

Is it weird that they haven't cared to speak up too much on that front? I thought for sure by now they'd have shut us out of the clothes-picking process, but no, they still expect me to do it.

So far so good. Tomorrow we have one going in a Packer jersey, another in a fleece hoodie, and a third wearing layered Hello Kitty t-shirts. Let's just hope that they didn't genetically receive any of my father's fashion sense. (Sorry, Dad. I promise to step in if they mix plaid and stripes.) I have a feeling Kristin is going to be our "accidentally creative" dresser.

Finally, to answer Anon's question and mortify any male readers who have made it thus far, yes, I got my period. Yes, it's aweful and drawn out, but I am NOT complaining.

Could you imagine adding another child to this insanity? As I type, the girls are running down the hallway laughing hysterically because Emma hiccoughed so hard she let one rip. It's times like this I'm grateful we never removed the child locks on the doors...

2010 Brain Purge

2011 is starting off with the removal of all things jolly.

I asked Mike a couple days ago: I'm thinking of taking down the tree... what do YOU think? Or should we leave it and decorate it for Valentine's Day? That could be fun.

It's taking up at least 16 square feet.

More than THAT...

Okay, 25 square feet. Get rid of the thing.

Ho, ho, ho!

I should mention that I'm making an effort not to complain for a while. So what you're about to witness is not complaints so much as a tally of this past week's events.

First, Emma had some weird recurring blister-looking raised rash that would show up on random parts of her body over three days. Face. Belly. Arms. And then it would disappear just as quickly. Like within MINUTES. I thought it might be hives, but there wasn't anything she had consistent contact with. A very smart woman - you know who you are - told me it could be from heat. I think she's onto something.

As soon as I took off her PJs, Emma's welts began to disappear. Think it's the pajamas? Think again. She got them the next day under her t-shirt. Weird.

Then I tried to be fun and tune Emma's guitar - give her something to focus on instead of her itching skin.

And I tuned it a bit too high and snapped a string. Whoops...

A trip to Target, five dollars and an hour later, we had tunage. She was slightly ecstatic.

The sound of the girls "playing" Jingle Bells combined with the first eight notes of the Charlie Brown theme song for four straight hours drove me up the wall brought joyful tears to my eyes.

Alison entertained us by turning on the Jazz Music provided by her drum pad and then dancing like she was on Sprockets.

Then we painted nails with all the fun colors Untie Stuffie gave them. Who needs Hello Kitty nail polish when their aunt buys them the fancy O-P-I stuff? It was more fun than I had anticipated. Gone are the days of painting one child's hands while screeching at another I told you those aren't dry yet quit rubbing your hands on your pants ohmygad just stop. Just stop! Yes, MUCH more pleasant this time.

And they went sledding on the lawn for a whole 15 minutes. Didn't you love to play outside in the snow at night? That was my favorite memory as a kid.

These kids? Nope. I had to shove them out the door. I'm pretty sure they had fun, though. Until Emma came in with bright red cheeks and another blistery rash spreading across her forehead...

The next day, it started to rain.

The girls were devastated when the piles and piles of snow disappeared. But we didn't go to Grandpa Reuben's house and go sledding! (My grandfather in Northern Wisconsin... we went sledding through their woods the past two years and they talk about it incessantly. I'm thinking a trip up North might be in the works in February.)

So I let them write a letter to Grandpa Reuben and Grandma Louise. Kristin tried to spell their names on her own... notice the Roobin on the left and the Uwez on the bottom by my thumb.

By the way, that's a Gingerbread Man holding a hot air balloon. Half the fun is guessing.

Despite the icy roads, my sister brought her family up for New Year's Eve. We spent most of the night playing Mad Gab and watching Stripes, then The Man Who Knew Too Little.

The girls were so excited to show everyone their toys. And no matter how many times I reorganize their room, it looks like Santa's workshop took a giant crap on their floor. Toys EVERYWHERE.

But most of all, Kristin adored having her cousin Elliott to visit (she's on the right).

Nine out of ten pictures I have of our kids, they're in that exact same order. Alison and Emma, Elliott and Kristin. I told Stephie that her son is Kristin's vanished twin.

And of course all three of the girls smothered my sister. It might have something to do with how much she spoils them. Just a hunch.

They left early the next day, and my parents sent me a text asking if we wanted company. (The surprising part is not the text but that it was a complete sentence with punctuation. Hallelujah for technology. Although I'll miss receiving cryptic text messages from my father like: "We have to PPPOIOO9909P9[OPOKO." Or: "Reynaldos 6.")

And by the time they left, they had convinced Mike and I to send the kids back with them and have a date night.

I hate doing that, but we had a few free bowls saved up at Genghis Grill and a newfound sense of adventure. So we bought the Family Guy Star Wars spoof trilogy and went back home. Yes, we are living the high life.

Not before having a little Wal-Mart wildlife interaction in the camping aisle when a heavily tattoed, pierced and smoke-scented guy in leather approached us to chat about cell phones.

(I have to admit - I checked to make sure my wallet was there when he finally wandered off.)

In other news, the Packers won their game yesterday and are in the playoffs.

And Mike had to take our one functioning vehicle to work today so my parents brought me a vehicle at 8 AM this morning. From 25 minutes away. I owe them. And if Mom ever needs a kidney, I will totally cough one up.

Like I said, I can't complain. Things always seem to work out.

As you can tell, my brain is all over the place. I need to take a little time this morning to relax and enjoy the silence.

2010 is over.

And Christmas Break is over.

It went way too fast.

Procrastination is what's for dinner... tomorrow

In all fairness, it's not exactly easy to accomplish anything - let alone creating costumes using mental power - during a Packer game like the one tonight.

Jesus, I thought when my legs and arm went numb: 'This is it. THIS is how I'm going to die. This has to be the onset of a massive 4th-quarter-induced stroke.'

Fortunately I survived to watch Brett Favre (better known as Pistol Pete to Jets fans) throw away a victory. Literally.

My hands were so shaky by the end of it, I decided it was better NOT to sew on Emma's bunny tail. It might end up in the wrong place and begin a line of questioning about bunny reproduction, and I really don't want to go down that bunny path right now.

I'll sew the tail on tomorrow when I make her blue corduroy vest and jacket.

And is it just me or does it look a little lambish?

Who effing cares at this point... if it had taken any longer to get the pants made, I was just gonna staple a tuft of cotton to a pair of white pants and call it quits. (I should add that she is now requesting PAWS for the godforsaken outfit. And all the while Kristin is asking, Where's the Red Queen? I NEED the RED QUEEN.)

Kill me.

For FUN, while Mike was off drinking and man-playing with friends (watching something infinitely educational like UFC), the girls and I painted the patio window. A week before Halloween.

Yay for procrastination!

Also late? Some of the invites to our party. I'd already called all the parents (except one) so they know they're coming. And they ARE coming. I spent too much damned time making them to throw them away.

Here's what they see...

... then they open it and POW!

Invite.

So creative, fer shur.

I've decided to run around the neighborhood tomorrow morning (after school drop off) and take the invites to each of the remaining houses. RUN. Like with my feet and everything.

Then again, I can't really trust any decisions I make right now. I'm hopped up on caffeine and aspirin and I can't decide if I should clean the house some more or bleed to death internally. It's a tough call. Truly.

Hell with it. I think I'll go to sleep.

There's plenty of time to procrastinate tomorrow.

Introducing: The Thanksgiving Squirrel

It's October 17, and I have yet to begin sewing my girls' Halloween costumes.

And while my mom and sister are trying to convince me to cough up the $99 to buy the Red Queen and Alice costumes ($99 EACH), I'm holding out. Or we'll all just end up dressing as famous fast food icons.

Like The Colonel... using Rice Krispie treats.

Also, exciting news on the Fireman's Pancake Fundraiser Breakfast. We (read: I) screwed up and thought the fundraiser was last Saturday. Whoops!

Well, we showed up yesterday morning at 10:30AM to find that there weren't any firetrucks in the parking lot. Or cars. Or people in the firehouse.

Because it wasn't yesterday.

Again.

We realized our mistake - thanks to Mike's $30 rubber made-in-Taiwan Timex and its date feature which I hate - and headed to the Farmer's Market instead. The kids were disappointed (again) and Mike said, This is becoming extremely funny. Mostly because I've now announced excitedly TWICE on Facebook that we were going to ogle visit the firemen.

But also: I've been a total brainfart with dates. Every single day (in MY mind) is Tuesday or Wednesday. Every. Single. Day. And the further I guess from the correct day is equal to the amount of anger in my sister when she growls: I hate you.

Amazingly, we went back to the breakfast today and it was the correct day.

Hallefuckinlujah.

Because the girls were beginning to think I was full of shit. We're going to see the firetrucks today! JUST KIDDING!!!

See them making the moose antlers? It's because Mike has them convinced that there is such a thing as a Christmas Moose. And they are PUMPED about it. They talk about the Christmas Moose and his friend the Easter CHICKEN.

Mike has a whole line of pretend holiday animals. He says his make more sense because have you ever seen a Rabbit lay an egg? Exactly.

So today he told them there is a Thanksgiving Squirrel.

And Emma went Awwwwwwwww!!!! in delight.

Every day is an adventure with Mike for a father, I'm sure.

We spent the rest of the day playing in the leaves at Grandma's house since the Packers played today which is why you will see my children in these exact same outfits Every. Single. Week.

Kristin desperately wants to wear her green and gold jerseys, but the only ones we have are FAVRE jerseys. That is blasphemy.

We are now taking donations for Packer jerseys in size 5 or 6T to correct this horrendous situation...

While pretending to watch the game, the women crafted. My aunt was down from the Nort' Woods, so we whipped out some glue guns and got to work. My mom bought a bunch of supplies and a fake squirrel (not kidding... I should ask if he is the Thanksgiving Squirrel) and I threw together something that looks like the cuter version of this:

It looks so much better in real life, although my mother does NOT approve. She used to do floral arrangements for a living and she heckled my wreath for the first 15 minutes until I promised she could fix it once I finished playing.

But then I glued the squirrel in place and hid it from her.

Because I'm an asshole and I like to mess with her. Bwahahahaha....

We took breaks to play in the leaves (Mike enjoyed ramming mulched bits of leaves down Stephie's pants) and haul a couch down a skinny flight of steps. We sat around and talked about Aunt Lori hiding from two bats last night by slipping behind a door with her hoodie pulled around her face.

Then my mom sent me home with lasagna, three cute apple baskets, and a Matchbox car for Mike (?) while my aunt carved an intricate design into a foam pumpkin for us and put a light in it to decorate our kitchen. Between feeding us and filling the kids with juice, Mike with beer and me with pop and all the freebies... my house and our bellies are getting too full! What can I say? My family is pretty awesome.

Mike goes back to work on DAYS for a few weeks, so this should be interesting. I'm going to be less sporadic with my posts. I hope. I can't function when he's home in the evenings.

And if he reads that, he'll probably offer to stay out with the guys to "do me favor."

Little does he know that the garage needs cleaned and is just far enough away that I'd forget he's home...

Titillating Monday: People are evil, and I am a people

I'm feeling particularly feisty this morning. How do you feel about 13 over the speed limit? Fast enough?

Do you think maybe that would be fast enough that some cell-phone talking chicky wouldn't try to hook onto my hitch on a 2-lane back country road?

Apparently not.

This morning has started off with a bang. As a women veered around behind me and frustratedly made gestures at me to pass the semi already, I found myself shouting back to her that I had three kids in the car and I'm going fast enough and even though I didn't have my makeup on, I could make HER look like a mess if she stepped out of her car. Like she could hear me. Ah, Road Rage.

And when I passed the semi truck then slammed on my brakes so she could pass, she either waved or gave me the Screw You Salute, but regardless I made sure to plainly give her the "Have a Fine Day" Finger.

Then I realized this woman probably lives in my town - my town of 500 or so people. Howdy, neighbor!

---

Yesterday, I had my parents, sister and nephew over for the Packer game. It was the first time in NINE MONTHS that the parents had come to visit. Wow!

I was in charge of picking up pizzas from the gas station (turns out they're afraid of my cooking and would opt for some grubby stranger touching their food over risking their lives on mine) and when we got there, my truck started to ding. Low Fuel Level.

What the hell? I had just had 1/4 tank when I parked it the night before, and now it was on E. I filled up, but I started to question in my head every questionable person that I'd seen around the neighborhood.

Which one of you bastards cyphoned off my gas???

And after two hours of stewing about it, Mike informed me that he'd used my truck that morning to run errands.

My apologies to Tuesday Dumpster Diver Man... I'd had you pegged as the culprit.

---

Emma has been such a little turd lately. All she wants to do is goof off and make faces with and snuggle Mike.

She's making up for lost time perhaps, since she never really paid much attention to him as a baby.

Mike is just happy to have a snuggle buddy back. Cat excluded.

---

We went to the Ron-Da-Voo this weekend with the girls. It's a hole-in-the-wall bar, and it makes me wonder if the people who named it were trying to be cute or really couldn't spell rendezvous.

The trip opened my eyes. I'd forgotten how much attention the girls bring when we go to small towns (not only that, but I really need to invest in three completely different jackets... think that would help?)

I whispered to Mike in a giggling hush: I just don't have the energy to deal with all the questions today. And then HE shushed ME.

Seconds later, the cook came out from her grease-covered perch to "get a look" at the girls. I didn't dare laugh, even though the ridiculousness of it all was pretty funny. She asked us a bunch of questions and never took her eyes off the girls like they might attack her if she did.

I know people (especially other moms of multiples) think I'm weird or oversensitive for not liking the "special status" that this whole situation affords us. My egg got crazy weird and split twice (or as Mike likes to think: his sperm was all kachow! pow! and blasted my egg into pieces). So what? I don't look at my kids every day and think: You are so much more special because you shared a uterus.

I love my girls, but I want to be normal again. Well, as normal as I can be. I want to walk into a restaurant and not have to pay the Triplet Toll:

How many kids' menus do we need? Oh wow, are those... triplets?

Yeah.

Cool... are they identical???

Yep.

I bet that's pretty rare. Did you know you were having triplets? or Do triplets run in your family? or Do they have different personalities? all while my girls are getting antsy because they're hungry and Mommy's getting the third degree.

Then we're seated. Then two minutes later, the hostess is pointing to us and whispering to her coworker. Rinse and repeat with the server. And add a dash of stares and whispers from other patrons.

Sometime, I'd love to be able to go to a grocery store in my sweats and no makeup and just blend in with all the other people you don't notice when you're buying your bulk beverages and frozen meats.

Because I've done it. I've left the kids at home a few times and gone out on errands and it is weird. The difference is astounding. No one says hi to me, no one points at me, no one stops me in the tampon aisle to ask if my children are clones or individuals.

It's kinda niiiiice.....

---

Later that same evening, we took the girls to a work-sponsored bonfire. I think it was an excuse to play with matches under the guise of getting rid of wood pallets from the mill.

There was only two other little kids about the girls' age there... one of whom was named Spencer.

And Spencer was desperately trying to attach himself to the gaggle of kids. He was excited to have so many friends to choose from. He told his mom (when she asked what he thought of the girls): Mom, there's THREE of them!

Then he showed my girls how to put sand down the slide and plow through it with their butts.

Now THAT'S more normal.

---

Happy Monday!

Who are these kids?

One of Mike's and my favorite games for the last 6 years has been guessing who our girls will grow up to be.

Hello, preconceived notions? Prepare to be blown out of the water.

We've been wrong a lot while playing our little game. When Emma karate-chopped her frog legs up and over the NICU bumper, we thought she might be an active and outgoing baby. Then as she grew into a timid little peanut, we changed our minds - she must have been scared at the openness of the real world. She was surely going to be the shy child.

When Alison would spend all her time bullying her sisters for sport, we thought she would be a handful without empathy. Surely Alison was going to be trouble.

When Kristin was a baby, she was so small they warned us of disabilities. Kristin was surely going to have problems in school, but we would work through it.

Boy were we wrong.

About six months ago, if you'd asked any of my girls to draw a picture of ANYTHING, they would always come back with the same finished product - a square blob with a face and stick legs. (That could be a table, a person, or a raincloud with lightning.)

Then I noticed something. Alison - our child who wouldn't sit still for five minutes quietly unless she was asleep - was sitting at the table nearly every day for at least an hour, just drawing. She was going through so much paper that I asked my mom - and her coworkers chipped in - for any paper they were recycling that had a blank side for drawing. We go through inches of it every month.

Not only that, but Alison went from blobs that even SHE couldn't figure out to things like this:

It's a dream she had about beavers coming to visit her in her sleep, and then when she woke up they went back to the river where they live. (That's a fish in the second picture. And it looks like Jason gave us that batch of paper from the writing showing through...)

And the most fascinating part? She whips out hundreds of these every week in less than a minute each. Mike says on a near-daily basis: Even I can't draw as well as my 5-year-old.

She loves art. The problem is, she's smart, too, but she likes to hide it. Sometimes she pretends she doesn't understand English, usually when I'm working with her on her homework. I pointed to the word puppy yesterday and asked her what it said. Her half-hearted answer? Jet.

I told Mike she is so creative and self-aware (she watches herself in the mirror so much Mike says he's going to remove it to the dump) that I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to act some day.

And then Miss Kristin.

She was so goofy as a baby, and suddenly turned neurotic (in the most endearing way). She HAS to follow rules. If she's caught "breaking" one, even if I nicely point it out, she breaks into tears.

And she is SO smart. She's already reading 75% of the books the teacher has sent home for ME to read to HER. She sounds out words like hospital.

I've always thought she was a little Rainman-ish. She used to sort blocks according to colors and patterns... as a toddler.

She could care less about being creative. I have to force her to draw. Usually she draws pictures of me telling her NO (which I think is sad and funny at the same time since she's hardly ever in trouble!) or strange scribbles of things dying or being on fire and self-portraits. Here's her latest...

I asked her what the things were on her knees, and she said it's where she got "ouchies."

She likes to be in control. My mom said that's why Kristin likes to be the "bad guy" when we dress up or play... she's not as scared if SHE'S the Wicked Witch or the Red Queen.

So getting her to think creatively or take a risk is hard. But ask her to do a math or spelling problem or a chart?

No problem! Alison? Not so much...

One, two, three, four five six... aaaand... color color this is so boring.

They are quite a bunch of characters.

But the hardest to peg has been Emma.

I think she's going to be our charmer. (She's there on the left.)

She used to never make eye contact with ANYONE. Now? She is the life of the party. She giggles constantly and pounces on people. She smiles coyly at the camera. She tells the funniest stories but immediately blushes if I catch her dancing. She sings in the car.

This is a girl we thought was mute for the first two years of life.

I never thought I'd say this about Emma, but I'm considering putting her in karate or dance classes. Did I just type those words??? Emma? Of all kids!

They've changed so much, and I couldn't be any prouder of them!

(Hold on to your hat, you're about to get a glimpse of my parenting techniques.)

We're on our second week of our chore charts. They are working GREAT.

Mostly because my girls love stickers. But also because we've added an ALLOWANCE to the game.

Funny timing, but the school sent home green transparent mini piggy banks. They're learning about the value of coins and money.

So I've decided to give them one cent for every sticker they earn during the week. We count up the stickers then translate that to coins. (I know what you're thinking... one cent? But my girls don't care about the money as much as the coins.)

I'm hoping it teaches them: patience, money counting skills, responsibility, consequence, and saving.

Alison and Kristin have 26 stickers and Emma has 25... we'll see how upset Emma is over that penny she won't get with her shiny quarter. A teaching moment for sure.

*I have to add that I've adopted another mom's technique to get her kids to make the bed before school. If they don't make it, they have to lay down for a nap or quiet time after school. We did that on Friday when the girls didn't have it made before class... I had some peace and quiet and the girls learned that they need to do their chores! They weren't upset or angry... just tired and they laid down for 45 minutes then happily made their bed when I woke them up.*

Speaking of preconceived notions... Mike and I watched Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil this morning. He disappeared into the office for ten or fifteen minutes. About an hour later, he confessed he'd been looking up the statue from the movie. He wanted to buy me one for my garden.

I was completely surprised and agreed that, next year when our garden is finished, we can celebrate by adding our little Savannah Bird Girl.

He's determined to buy me presents this year since I've outed him and his non-present-giving ways to the world.

Love you, too.

Just for fun, I added a video of my mom playing with the girls. Is it any wonder I'm so strange? Look who raised me...

They're "riding brooms."

About 30 seconds after filming this, Kristin said to my mom: I'm going to be like Grandma, too. She wanted to be the scary one.

Titillating Tuesday: Clipping it, just a little bit

My sister has been calling me nearly every day: Guess how much I saved in coupons! I have to go to Walgreens to get my ten cent cans of fruit. Wanna come with? They have tampons for a quarter.

Well, gee... as exciting as that was, I had to turn it down. I haven't had a period in 15 months. Thanks, Depo! Turns out even when you come OFF the shot, it still handicaps your uterus.

Now watch me be the lady who pops a kid out on the crapper.

Anyway... Stephie is convinced I need to spend time every week clipping coupons and checking sales fliers. So I did. And oh my god it is not worth my time.

It took two days of cutting and searching and planning which things to buy at whatever stores. I saved $59 (spent $220). I would have made more money selling plasma.

---

As the unlucky - but very kind - cashier scanned and typed in my wad of coupons (I apologized four times, mostly for my sister) I finished bagging and stacking the groceries in the cart. Emma asked to sit on the new blender, which I of course obliged.

The cashier and I (and the middle-aged gentleman behind me in line) stood in silence.

Register: Beep.... scan Beep....

Emma, from the cart: Look at me. I'm up high, sitting on the box.

Alison: But did you poop on it?

Emma: Not yet!

*hysterical laughter from all three girls*

I looked up to see both the man in line and the cashier snickering and started to laugh myself. I apologized and snapped my fingers at the girls. Bodily functions are funny, apparently.

Cashier: Yes, they are.

---

Things are so different with the girls in school. Not just the big things, like eating lunch without interruption or getting them to fall asleep earlier.

The little things.

Like being able to light candles in my house for the first time in six years.

And I did... two of them.

They were buy one get one free. I had a coupon.

---

I can't believe it's Tuesday already. Time flies when your team is getting its hind end handed to them by Da Bears.

And all I can think is Bears. Beets. Battlestar Gallactica.

Or DA Bears. DA Beets...

I miss Chris Farley.

---

Speaking of SNL, the new season started on Saturday. Between Katy Perry's cleavage and Governor Patterson making fun of himself next to his imitator, it was worth staying up "late" (did I just say that midnight was late?) to watch.

It starts a little slow, but picks up somewhere around the ad for the "Mosque at Ground Zero":

---

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

It's times like this I'm glad I have a "strippers and midgets" keyword

This is what we do on weekends now.

My children make nests of blankets on the couch and floor and rocking chair and laze around until 2PM. As someone who thinks mornings are clearly a work of the Devil, I can't say I have any complaints.

I'm still in recovery mode from this week.

Yesterday, I took my mom's and sister's new crocks to my parents' house (bought for $50 a couple houses away during our city garage sales and they are old - one from the 1800s and the other from the late 1700s! wow I'm a dork that I'm excited about that). Since this was only a delivery mission, I was dressed up in heeled sandals and a frou-frou shirt. Obviously, I would end up climbing through their hedges for three hours, trimming with power tools and carting away branches to my dad's truck.

I was finding branch debris in and on body parts all day and night.

Oh, and we found out when Mom came back with their dog that our puppy (14 years young) might have an aggressive cancerous tumor on her back leg. Yay , cancer! Way to go on attaching yourself to yet ANOTHER victim in our family! Now go fuck yourself.

I spent the next several hours in the basement of my neighbor's house, watching ISU get systematically dismantled by Iowa.

And of course there were other shenanigans. Like when I found a miniature wrestler doll that looked more like a Chippendales dancer. See if you can find him in this picture....

He hung out in my cleavage the rest of the night, of course!

Here's about half of us. Thanks to Cami who actually remembers - unlike some people - to bring her camera to parties. Then again, maybe that's not such a good thing.

Hey, she said 'Everybody DO something,' which to ME means 'something pervy.' So yeah. Class act, I am! I'm gonna stick to playing with my stripper dolls instead of posing in pictures...

Because of the 3-day headache that ended Friday night, I had to play it nice... I spent the night drinking straight Lemonade. Daredevil, I know!

And then I woke up this morning feeling like death.

I don't know what happened, but either I have the world's worst case of allergies or I am the only one in my family to catch the world's worst head cold. Either way, it's pretty clear that my immune system SUCKS.

I want to make myself a couch nest and watch Scholastic videos all day.

But alas... it's football season and I am dragging the kids and my sorry ass to my parents' to watch the Packers play the Eagles.

I just hope there aren't any more hedges left to trim.

Football

I've often wondered how long it would take for the neighbors to burn my house down give me a good razzing if I hung a Wisconsin Badgers or Packers flag outside my house.

Most of my neighbors are - obviously - Iowa Hawkeye fans. I've never really been a huge fan of college football in general, specifically Iowa, but I won't let that stop me from watching the game and pretending to care when they score points.

Wow, is this about to make me feel old.

I used to drive down to the Iowa City bars to drink when I was 16. (Shocking.)

The bars would allow anyone into them as long as you had a college ID. Well, guess what? I went to college a few hours every week at the beginning of my Junior year of high school. Jackpot! College ID.

All it took at that point was some skeezy old guy or desperate college kid to buy us beer or shots.

Is there any wonder the new Iowa City laws banning underage kids are working to keep the peace? The young scoundrels are staying in Cedar Rapids where they're from.

Over the next several years of hanging out in just about every bar in the Iowa City ped mall, I encountered more than my share of bravado from rough-and-tough college guys.

And here's where we gain relevance this week... a lot of that annoying push and shove, let's go kick some random guy's ass crap came from the Iowa City football players.

In fact, I would have to say I had NEVER seen a bar fight that hadn't involved a gigantic football player taking out his 'roid rage on some unsuspecting, probably not even local, kid.

That's part of the reason I never really caught "the Iowa bug."

Hell, I'm a Packer fan, but I wouldn't kick anyone's ass over it. (Note: I married a Cowboy fan, for godssakes. And while there have been times I've wanted to smack Mike in the head, it was never about football.)

So as we approach football season once again, please be a good fan. And don't act a fool over something so silly.

After all, it's just college football. Real football doesn't start for another eight days.

Bring my Packer torch and pitchfork... time to hunt us some Bears fans.

A new addiction just in time for Fall

I got a taste of fall today, quite literally.

The girls were running in and out of the house as the sun was getting low, mixing all the lamplight in the house with this really gorgeous orange hue. I had just finished mixing up a batch of peanut butter oatmeal cookies for the kids, and while I waited for the oven to heat up, I walked into the livingroom sipping a cup of hot green tea.

It's hard to describe without sounding like Double Rainbow guy...

but it was like a calm wave passed over my whole body, taking me back to all the Falls before.

You would think with the cooling weather and the approaching football season I would have felt it sooner, but it was something about the tea and the sunlight and heading over to my rocking chair to read a book that reminded me of how much I have always loved this season.

I guess that's why I wear sweatshirts year round... wishful thinking, perhaps?

Then the smell of cookies and the quiet of the house? I wondered if that's how Martha Stewart feels every day.

But back to the important issues: the tea I was sipping on - the tea of inspiration and comfort I've been nursing for the last week - was sent to me by my friend Lynlee. She's trying to get me hooked on this Organo Gold Tea (she sells coffee, too) and it's working quite brilliantly.

And hell, you know I'm down with anything made from the "mushroom of immortality." I was half-expecting it to say it was a magical virility drug as well, adding to the list of medicinal properties it possesses.

So there I was, like a crack addict, using those tea bags at least three times a piece until I was sure I had gotten every last bit of tea out.

Help me, Lynlee! You've created a monster!

I'll be placing my order soon.

Before heading to bed, I have to add this video for those who have already seen Double Rainbow Guy... this is a parody. Enjoy.

Evolution of a Love and/or Marriage

Mike and I are rapidly approaching our 7th wedding anniversary this Monday.

It feels like it's been soooooo much longer than that. And if we're being honest, it has.

In fact, Mike doesn't think it's "fair" to only celebrate seven years since in Spring, we'll have been together for twelve. How is that even possible??? Twelve years. I'm not even 30.

Mike's dad referred to us as "highschool sweethearts" this past weekend which seemed foreign to me... Mike and I never went to a dance together, never attended a football game as a couple, never held hands in the hallway (fine by me since it went against my strict No Boyfriend Will Ever Distract Me policy - that policy failed miserably right around the time we graduated from high school, by the way). At the time we met in January of '99, I had graduated early but was still hanging around the halls out of boredom and often in jogging pants. Superclassy fo sho.

And that's how we met. My friend said this is my other friend, Mike, and we were together almost every day since. End of story, I was sold.

But my God it has been the most up-and-down 12 years of my life.

We have been through so much together.

We started out with that crazy fun spark and Mike was my reason for disobeying my parents and ditching out on my college classes. Not good, but fun.

Then I started to grow up and realized we needed a place of our own and to get real jobs. Mike went to college and got his degree. I worked full-time (as a stipulation of our rental agreement, we could only have one student). We got our money situation under control. Or started to. At that point, I was still playing the "I'll pay this bill this month and the other utility bill next month" game when paychecks fell short.

It made for some fun "conversations."

We fought over money. We fought over drinking. We fought over jealousy. There were holes punched in doors and nights when Mike would disappear with friends and be hungover through the next morning. I became overly sensitive to everything and suspected him of cheating on me with any girl he talked about more than once. I had never been so scared of losing someone in my life, and I didn't like who I had turned into. We were still young - only just 21 - and had a lot of maturing to do... (I'm so thankful that's not who we are anymore).

But that was only a tiny explosive fraction of our lives. Most days, we snuggled on the couch and watched our free cable and ate Shells N Cheese with broccoli or watched Shawshank Redemption and ate pretzels and cheese dip. Or we spent weekends at my parents' house watching Packer Games with my family. Or we walked around the mall and held hands (my policy was shattered by that point).

By the time we were engaged in January of 2002 and had the wedding planned, things had gotten so much better between us. Even so, Mike was ready to postpone the wedding. I don't blame him. I was tired and he was worried that we were too young, not to mention we were both present and paying attention through the stress of the previous three years. I told him through sobbing tears, Fine, cancel the wedding. But YOU have to call my parents and tell them.

He quickly changed his mind, and I still laugh about how I "scared" him into marrying me.

Then Fall of 2003 came.

Mike finished college and got a new job.

And we were married.

Things were different... a little the same, too. Good and bad. We moved into a different place and started feeling like a family more than two kids living together.

It was around that time I knew we really loved each other and weren't just "playing house." (You would think most people would figure that out before getting married, but I liked to do things the hard way.) Things were really good.

And then someone made the brilliant decision in Summer of 2004 that we should try to have a baby. Because it might take a year or more and oh my we'd better hurry up and get on that.

Two weeks and a few margaritas later, I was pregnant.

Twenty-three years old and I was knocked up, and just before we had planned on moving in with my parents to save money for a house.

I also realized that baby would have to make its way OUT of my belly. I was so scared. One thing I can say about Mike was that he was worried about me more than I was worried about myself, but he always stayed strong and never freaked out.

Even when the ultrasound 12 weeks later showed three tiny heartbeats instead of one.

I have never seen him happier. Before leaving the OB office, Mike was already planning how to share the news with our family. Then he scanned our ultrasound pictures and headed to Target to show his ex-coworkers the good news (I headed instead to the jewelry store where I worked... a customer walked in and said That's so funny cuz there's a guy on the other side of town at Target showing off pictures of a triplet ultrasound to everyone. To which I laughed, Ummm... yeah, that's my husband.)

Mike talked to my stomach every night. He chatted mostly with Kristin - the littlest peanut. She was his favorite simply because he was scared that she was so little. He wanted to help her grow. (He also named her, I might add.)

The babies came, in the early hours of a cold, icy January night. They were way too early.

Mike followed them to the NICU and watched as the nurses resuscitated Kristin and intubated the two smallest babies, sticking wires and needles into their tiny bodies. He stood off to the side, helpless and nervous. I was down in recovery, so Mike took our camera up and snapped my first view of our babies.

He loved those girls so much from the first second we knew they existed.

The first couple years of having kids was beyond hard. I struggled to keep the house clean enough that it wouldn't be condemned, and Mike worked looooooong hours to support our family financially.

The noise level in the house was intolerable at times. We both were burnt out.

We started fighting again - mostly over the state of the house - and there were times I was sure I'd be better off walking out the door with the kids and never looking back. I didn't. Obviously. I knew that - logically - things would get better as the kids got older. If we could only make it a couple more years...

Things did get better. As the kids grew up, it was easier to keep the house clean. I actually scrubbed my kitchen floors at one point several times a week! Hallelujah! I started taking online courses when the girls were 18 months old. I encouraged Mike to go out with friends and golf. I thought it was important we had something to do and talk about besides work and the kids.

And things got easier for Mike. He was less stressed because it wasn't quite so overstimulating when he walked in the door. I was able to have supper cooked some nights without feeling like I could stab myself in the neck.

Instead of having the traditional "date night," we would buy DVDs and watch them once the kids were in bed. That might be how we ended up with about 700 movies...

We started paying attention to each other again. I found myself going out of my way to do nice things for Mike just because I wanted to see him smile.

And as I heard about parents of multiples getting divorced, I wasn't shocked one bit. This shit was hard. I'm not talking regular "Oh this job is so stressful, I wish I could get a new one" hard. I'm talking "If I had the choice between having one more day of this or death, I'd sit in the car and start it on fire" hard. I felt that we had somehow beaten the odds, either from luck or sheer stubbornness and massochism.

When we hit our limit, it was our shared sense of humor that got us through. I would look at a child with stinky, slimy shit all the way up her back and on the sheets, and we would look at each other and burst out laughing at the absolute horror and helplessness in the situation.

And as we approach seven or twelve years together, I can joke about our love and/or marriage.

Because it hasn't always been both, at least on the surface. When I look back now, I know I had faith that we loved each other and would see that on the other side, no matter how bad things got. And when things were good? I would nod to myself that it was worth it.

Over the last week, Mike has been off of work - it's just how his schedule works - and we've always been amazingly stressed by the end of it. The kids are loud and needy, and while I'm used to it from 5+ years of listening to whining, Mike would reach his limit. He would get owly and joke Are you ready for me to go back to work? about 4 days in. Of course I'd say Yes...

Things were different this week, and I can see a new phase of our lives coming. The girls are in school, and Mike and I had - for the first time in almost six years - the opportunity to spend hours and HOURS together by ourselves. We went to lunch. We snuggled and rolled around like teenagers. We watched movies in our pajamas, eating pretzels and cheese.

Just like old times.

Except better.

Seven years better.

Happy Anniversary, Mike... I wouldn't have had it any other way.