Saturday, April 30


A few days later.


Emmett napping in my arms.


Declan sound asleep in his jammies.


Callie basking under the soft glow of the bilirubin treatment light.

Once my brain settles a bit, I shall spin yarns of their arrival...

Wednesday, April 27


Meet the family.




Monday, April 25


2 days to go

Everyone is maintaining nicely in a holding pattern; Heather's vitals are tip-top, the babies' heart rates are good and strong. It appears everything is a green light for Wednesday morning.

Next time I speak with all of you, y'all can probably call me Mr. Dad.

Friday, April 22


5 days to go

I'm home just long enough to clean the catbox, run a load of laundry, make myself a becon and egg sandwich and grab a few more random things for Heather.

The grand plan to re-organize the first floor has been postponed. Heather wants to be here when the furiture begins to fly.

Besides, it's our last weekend before birthing these babies. We want to spend as much time alone as we can.

Wednesday, April 20


7 days to go.

When I got to the hospital last night, I was informed we got the upgrade to the corner room. It's much bigger with it's own shower. No more long walk down the hall for my sweet patootie.

We tend to sleep more fitfully when I stay over. I mean, we are sleeping in a hospital. The Ritz Carlton it ain't. But, at home, I can tell somethings missing. I tend to twich like a sick bunny when my wife isn't here. I tend to stay-up as late as possible when I'm here alone; less time in the too-big bed.

This morning's Perinatal appointment was bumped to 2:30, but we got Heather a wheelchair and took a stroll around the building outside. Stopping at an outdoor sitting area, we enjoyed the morning sunshine. Then realized this time next week, it would be different from now on for the rest of our lives.

When I saw her this evening, she was feeling a bit woozy. It seems her diabetes meds were doubled, causing her to feel weak and sleepy. I did manage to feed her the fruit plate from dinner and a supplemental drink. Then she dozed while I watched the news.

Before I left her, Heather did admit she was tired of feeling bad. Not including this stint at St. Joe's, it's been two-and-a-half months of constant discomfort and varying degrees of bedrest.

Poor, Sweetie. It'll be over soon. I promise.

Monday, April 18



Today we got a growth scan. We're gonna keep the kids in just over another week.

Provided nothing bars the plan, our delivery date is set for April 27.

(Start knocking wood right about now, please.)

My many thanks for the well-wishes and positivity. It really means a lot to me and Heather.

Wednesday, April 13


Test pattern.

This morning at our perinatal check-up, our doctor saw fit to re-admit Heather into hospital care on full bedrest. This time, it looks like she's there for the duration.

Luckily, Mom was here in town to begin getting the homestead in order. Right now I'm glad she's here to keep me off the cieling in a total freak-out panic. (Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean.)

So, for now T.I.Y.S. is going dark. As always, is you need to contact me, drop me an e-mail or just jot something in the comment box.

Tuesday, April 12


The Spring of our discontent.

Sheesh! Looking over my personal list of fellow bloggity peoples, it seems most of everyone is trudging through personal quagmires of malaise, illness, or discontent.

In short: our panties are in a collective bunch.

Although I'm not religious, strangely, I am superstitious. I believe collective energies ebb and flow in positive ways (Live Aid) and, conversely the negative (W.'s second term). So, gentle reader, I propose this...

Much as a humble yawn is contagious among the pride of mighty lions, I say the positive energies emanating from this weblog shall pass forth into your being, and energize you thusly tenfold,
causing a mighty rush of physical well-being,
as strong as the Zephyrs which cascade over the polar tundras
rejuvenating flora and earth!
Dear friends, I call to you, re-dedicating the title of this electronically produced endeavor as a mighty battle yawp: THIS IS YOUR SIGNAL!
Arise fromthe ashes of your downtrodden state and become that mighty phoenix, avian conqueror of darkness and despair!

...or not. Whatever.

Monday, April 11


Ewww. Gross!

Last week my wife had the foresight to make a doctor's appointment for me. With the trio coming soon, it would be best for me to take care of my trouble spots while I still have the time and energy.

The timing is rather good. I'm fairly certain I caught the coughing ick that my in-laws carted in during their visit last week. It seems I find myself expectorating the equivalent of setting concrete every morning. By the afternoon, things are fine, but it steals my voice by dusk. If I had voice-over work for a hard-boiled detective serial I'd make a mint. Pure whiskey-and-Lucky Strikes, if ya know what I'm sayin', Dollface. I could give old Tom Waits his walking papers. G'wan! Beat it, kid! Take a powder! Amscray!

Oh, where was I? Ah, yes. I'm keeping it at bay with lots of tussin, lots of water and healthy dodes of Tylenol. One thing about my G.P., she's not big on writing scrips for every last thing. Provided it's not avian flu, I'm sure she'll tell me to keep on keepin' on.

Another perennial favorite is what we lovingly call the devil toe around here. You see, in my mid-twenties, I lost the toenail from my fouth toe on the left foot. It grew back kinda wonky. Sort of up more than out. Like it has a horn. In fact, I can't even cut it. I sorta chip away at it and then file it down every few weeks. Lately*, it's been getting sorta yellow. I probably need that pill what kills fungus monsters that are on permanent vacation under my nails.

Plus I know she'll tell me to lose weight, eat better, exercise and lose weight.

*the past decade

Saturday, April 9


new ride

new ride
Originally uploaded by ExLionTamer.

Look upon my hype ride, ye Bee-yotches, and despair!


The hand that feeds her.

I tried my best to get our older cat Mollie to co-operate at the vet this morning. But, you see, she is a problem child.

Once at the doctor's office, our usually fiesty bundle of fluff transforms into the left hand of Beezelbub.

It's not like this is news to us. At our last visit, when she tore a large gash into the vet tech's arm, Dr. Irv gave us a bottle with kitty tranquilizers to help for the next visit. One tab forty-five minutes before appointment time, and she should be safe as milk.

Well Heather adminstered the drug, I got her into the carrier and then kitty proceeded to run the full operatic range of kitty displeasure: first timid mewing, then emphatic meowing, finally hitting patethic yowling.

I got her to the appointment, took her out in the lobby for weigh-in, but back in the exam room, my second attempt to release her brought forth all fury of fang and claw. She got me on the back side of my right hand, just above the wrist and she drew blood under the thumb knuckle. I was immediately given first aid of antiseptic, antibacterial and a gauze dressing complete with blue doggy footprints. I'm fine, but it stung like the dickens for a couple of minutes. Mostly, My feelings were hurt. Nobody likes to get attcked by their pet.

Dr. Irv suggested I come back another time when she'll get the full treatment. That would be a trip to the anesthetic chamber.

She'll be out cold for the tire rotation and the oil change, then wake up an hour later like a sailor after shore leave in Singapore.

Wednesday, April 6


Too tired for witty entry titles.

I'm not particularly talkative today. Ze brain, she is on, how-you-say? Ze auto-pilot?

Man, I am beat. Up kinda late and up kinda early to make Heather breakfast before the 8 AM appointment. I grogilly sat in the waiting area, then near asleep during ultrasounds, then i felt that no-breakfast/no-coffee malaise that overtook me during the fetal heart monitoring portion of the program. The good news: the kids are still inside. The bad news: we can't say for how long. Basically, the whole deal is done when somebody can't stand it no more. (My bet is on Heather.)

I'm back at work today. I completed a small mini-module which kept me side-tracked for about five days. Now I got a chance to push some geometry around for some rendered graphics.

Okay. I need a shot of caffeine ten minutes ago. Then it's in the van, man. Gotta jet.

Tuesday, April 5


What have I become?

Holy f*cking sheepshit! I bought a minivan.

Don't tell anyone, okay?

Monday, April 4


Thanks, like a gajillion.

So, after the tension of Heather being in the hospital for a few days, what better way to get over it than to throw a party.

Actually, the party was planned months in advance. We were very happy my wife could attend our own baby shower --- oops! I mean baby party. No cutesy-poo ducky pinatas , too-corny games or anything with a f*cking stork theme on it. No way. This was co-ed, casual dress and with plenty of beer and chianti to go around, and the best cake -- ever, from Atwaters.

We had a cross-section of old friends, close neighbors and, well, just nice folks we like to hang out with, come by for some a nosh and socialization. All in all about forty people, and a smattering of infants, toddlers and kids. Lots of talking, laughing, meeting, catching-up, with a little bit of screaming , too.

I have to give my thanks to my in-laws, especially Connie, who helped plan this thang with our homey Kristen. I know it wasn't easy wrangling all the e-vites across state lines, but it managed to turn-out beautifully. Also, thanks to my folks who made the pilgrimage from the wilds of greater Trenton to come help set-up, meet my local peeps and generally help run the ship.

Mostly, I have to give thanks to all my friends who could take the time and care to prepare the welcome for our impending trio. I was truly humbled at the outpouring of generosity I witnessed in my very own living room. I'll never forget this.

It's been said it takes a village to raise a child. We've got a small city.

Friday, April 1


No fooling.

I'm just minutes away from getting Heather at St. Josephs. Apparently, the adjustment in medications and diet over the past few days have made her condition magageable enough for her to come home.

Lucky me, I get to be the in-home care giver. No more climbing stairs for my sweet Patootie; I'm on galley duties breakfast, lunch and dinner. Plus the cleaning. And the laundry. And anything else that needs to be done.

Our thanks for all the well-wishes and support.

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