Monday, May 30


No picnic.

So the kids are having rice cereal mixed into their formula. This is supposed to help them with their reflux; a heavier feeding should result in less fourmula spit back out. A brilliant plan.

Unfortunately, the kids are working harder to suck down lunch. It took us two hours to feed Declan. Two hours. Lots of adjustments to the bottle nipple hole, and, at least with me, lots of stubborn gas that won't bubble-up. Urgh!

Emmett was a tough one, too. He was very cranky and it looked like he was giving-up on eating because he was straining. Like turn purple straining. However, his ubernurse made him burp and then he was able to guzzle some bottled mama's milk.

Calia was a cake walk. She was hungry, took the adjusted bottle very well, but was stinky. Oh, so stinky. (But I still love her.)

Friday, May 27


A shout-out

Got a postcard from Rob and Nini for the Grand Re-opening of Home Anthology on June 4-6.

Near Christmastime they were ousted form their previous spot in historic Oella so some young millionaires could get much-needed housing. In the meantime, they've wheeled-and-dealed by appointment while searching for an adequete retail space. Luckily, they've laned a few miles east of their former spot in the heart of Catonsville.

A special note for you un-kidded hipsters left out of the Rock n' Romp: make yourself feel better with a vintage swan chair or maybe a Saarinen table. Then you could taunt us with a photo of that fabulous designer swag we'll never get our grubby hands on until the kids are in college. Sound fair?

Thursday, May 26



There's a good chance Callie might be sprung from the NICU early next week. She'd come home on a monitor, which is not the way I really wanted it, but she's still coming home. I'm ready.

And I'm not. I mean I want her home. Actually, I want all the kids home. But, truthfully there are moments when I just wish I had more time to get everything where I want or need it. A little bit longer meeting my own needs, living my own schedule. But, when the logic takes over, that's not how the deal goes down. Babies are work. Triplets are a carreer.

*(that was the sound of me taking my man pill.)

Wednesday, May 25


Wall of hair

Nothing says "I didn't go crazy and shoot anyone" more than this hairstyle. Hmmm. I seems I've seen that 'do somewhere before. Ah, yes! Now I remember.

Sunday, May 22


R.I.P., Lopez

Baltimore radio news icon Lopez passed away this morning.

Back when I lived on Union Avenue, under the shadow of TV Hill, I had no choice but to listen to the 98Rock morning show thanks to the enormous broadcast tower lurking over my backyard. Basically the morning show was an insipid, lukewarm version of a "Morning Zoo", the saving throw was alway the news report by Lopez. Always professional, alway deadpan, and a dyed-in-the-wool Liberal in the truest sense of the word, he made my groggy bachelor mornings tolerable between lame song parodies and forced laughter.

Once I moved across town, I discovered the dulcet tones of Morning Edition better suited my adult tastes. I shunned 98Rock and all its mullet-riffic, Dundalk Mopar-driving ways, but still tuned in drive-time every once in a while to catch the Lopez report.

I once had the chance to meet him. Back up --- I think I had the chance to meet him. One Sunday afternoon at the Old Navy a few years ago I saw a portly man who seemed remarkably similar in features to Mr. R. Edward Lopez. But, I didn't want to become 'that guy' who either bothered the real newsman or hassled the look-alike on a quiet weekend afternoon.

Now, I wish I'd found out. If it was him, I would have thanked him for being the grown-up on a lowest common denominator program. For steadfastly being "that Liberal Mexican" amongst the jingoistic lowbrows not knowing the Bill of Rights if it bit them on the ass. I just would have thanked him for the professional news reports that made living under the shadow of the Hearst broadcast tower much more tolerable.

...Or I would have apologized for mistaking that guy waiting out in front of the dressing room for somebody else.


Tales from the basement.

Laundry. Lots of laundry. Grown-up laundry, yes, lots of that. But the big change is baby laundry.

Oh, the baby laundry. Naturally, all the brandy-new gifts from everybody need that first round of cleaning to get the sizing out and soften-up the weave.

Thanks to a cousin, a co-worker and a family friend we get the fine tradition of hand-me-downs. Lightly used and really adorable stuff. Pink fleece hoodies, jeans, picnic shirts, corduroy dresses, sandals, polo shirts. Luckily, the bulk of it is for 6 months and older; these children of mine are well-stocked for their first year.

Baby laundry is lots of fun 'cause everything is cute and carries the intoxicating lightly pungent whiff of Dreft. Yummy!

Saturday, May 21


Thank God *that's* over.

Saw Episode III on Thursday afternoon, thanks to my place of employment.* What can I say? Twenty-eight years of uneven writing culminated into a fairly decent film.

If you have never had an interest in the Star Wars ouvre, you'd best not see it. Too many characters and backstory flying around to catch-up on. It's all about tying ends together to make sense of the corner Darth Lucas painted himself in over the decades. Oh, and yes, there are lots of battles in this one. Big space hairballs, lasergun fights, ground warfare, and, natch, lightsaber duels. (My favorties!) Like I keep saying about the borefest that was Episode II, it ain't called Star Negotiations, George. Blow stuff up, and keep the slapstick to a minimum, mkay?

The dialogue is atrocious. In particular the love banter between Anikin and Padme. Bleeech! That was no surprise, but the 'death' of Anikin was: much more horrific than I expected. This is certainly no kiddie flick. And more than a few plot holes I can discuss off-line with my fellow stealth nerds.

Anyway, if you still have a soft spot for the films made for your inner child, spring for the matinee and see how the Skywalker family tree germinates.

*Yes, it's true. One of the fringe benefits of working in a dork-fuelled industry, is whenever a major motion picture featuring droids, hobbits, or both comes out, it becomes an un-official holiday. W00t!

Friday, May 20


Picture, if you will...

Emmett is now officially over three pounds and is carrying weight on his adorable cheeks. That would be the ones on his face, by the way.

Calia is over five pounds and has a cute little roll of fat under her chin. And she's a good eater; 3 ounces of formula yesterday. Oink! Oink!

Declan is still a sweet boy. He's gaining weight and eating well just like his siblings. I held him after Heather fed him. His noggin is the size of my fist.

So, why no photos? The compact flash card is full.

Wednesday, May 18


Irony later; babies NOW!

Last night was a good visit to the NICU. Well, about as good a visit to the hospital wing that holds your three tiny children can get, mind you.

Declan was wired-up for a sleep study. Even though he had a more-than-usual amount of wires on him, he nursed from his bottle like the champ he is. Afterward, I stroked the soft chicken fuzz on top of his head as he slept on my lap.

Emmett got weighed and, good news, everybody! He is just shy of three pounds: 2 lb. 15.1 oz. He also got a bath that I assisted on. He was clean, but so very not happy. Plus, I tried to dress him afterward. Luckily the nurse on duty that night saved Little Man from a night of nakedness. I just don't have the guts to pull the onesie over his precious noggin with the gusto of a seasoned caregiver. I made myself feel better because I got to hold him as Callie was "drinking from the source".

Then I got to feed our girl her supplement bottle. It's amazing how these little people can guzzle it down when they're completely asleep. Callie did well, although she got me riled with her spitty noises and sing-songy grunts. Eventually, she just gave out and grimaced as I put her back in her crib. I think she was, *ahem*, working on a science project, if you catch my meaning.

My folks are driving down today to see the children. Mom's been gone since last Friday, but Dad hasn't seen the kids since their birthday just over three weeks ago. I'm certain he'll see vast changes in all of them.

Sunday, May 15



The kids sleep a lot. Like A LOT. I know it's 'cause they need their energy to grow.

I realize these babies won't stay like this forever. So, I figure the more pictures I take of them when they're still and sleeping, the more memories I'll have later when they're much more active.




Thursday, May 12


New Favorites

These were taken last night.


Don't mess with the binky, bub.


Pretty eyes.


Heather call this Emmett's "Rembrandt baby portrait".

Things are moving along swimmingly. Ebeybody is gaining weight. The two bigger kids are nursing well from Mommy as well as the bottle.

Everybody is becoming a little more alert with each visit. That is, until they get to eat. Then it's light out.

Wednesday, May 11


Your productivity frightens and confuses me.

I'm in the midst of a maelstrom of dilligence this morning.

Heather's pain meds must be working like a charm. I have two large bags of old clothing she'd readied yesterday afternoon for me to offload to The Salvation Army. As I speak, she's currently rediscovering all the lost items from the wood rectory lockers. I get reports every few minutes that a secret stash of light bulbs or a that damn pair of scissors was found.

Mom is continuing the unglamourous task of cleaning the windows she began on Tuesday. Squeegee in hand, Windex at the ready, the grime doesn't stand a chance. Boxes of baby gifts are slowly being unloaded, cards organized, onsies washed and folded.

Like it or not, responsible adulthood has come to us on Tyndale Avenue. I'd better duck or I'll get some on me, and that stuff don't wash off easily. Pardon me, but I'm gong to slink upstairs and share a moment with my black coffee before I get handed a rag or a vacuum cleaner. YIPE!

Tuesday, May 10


First Mother's Day




Monday, May 9


Something not about the kids.

So, until the kids come home, I'm here at work while I still can be. Keeping the graphical ball rolling and all that.

Of late, several of my co-workers have gone itune crazy. On any given day, there may well be six or seven users with their playlists available. Lots of random crap: Britpop, showtunes, Nintendo game music (for real), and lots of alterna-this-and-that to rattle your face jewelry to.

Lately, however, I've been indulging in a guilty pleasure: the Metallica back catalog. Mostly Master of Puppets and the Garage Days stuff, circa '85, definitively in my mullet days. Back then, I had a passing interest with the band. I mean, we ALL have that one friend that just embodied the whole torn sleeveless denim jacket mystique that absolutley knew all things Metallica. If you rode in his primer gray P.O.S. Chevy, you got subjected to at least the first three songs from Master, you know what I'm saying?

In spite from the noodle factor*, the horror novel imagery and the unkempt, adolescent attitude of it all, I find the music just so... so... macho. The minor chords, the relentless percussion and Hetfield's voice. Like Cher on Nitrous: "Yeh-YE-AHH!".

I know I'm enjoying my metal-sign throwing self a little too much. Don't fret, I'll burn myself out on this in a week or so.

But, Jesus, it is so not new-father-of-triplets music.

*"More notes, Kirk! We need MORE NOTES IN THAT SOLO!"

Friday, May 6


Little Man


Last night, while Heather napped, I went to the NICU for Emmett's care time. I got there just in time to rock him under the glow of the heatlamp.

He's our little investigator. He had his eyes open for about twenty minutes, soaking-in all the things to see (especially my nose). Then he gave me a few big yawns and dropped-off to sleep.

Once the sucking reflexes kicked-in, I re-introduced him to his best buddy, the pacifier.

Wednesday, May 4




Declan and Heather


Me and Emmett


Sleepy Calia

We've begun going to the NICU during their care times. That way we can practice some usual baby business: taking their temperature, wiping their eyes and mouth, changing them. The real bonus is skin-to-skin contact time with the children for about a half-an-hour each. They hardly fuss and fall right to sleep. Heather got to all of them yesterday afternoon. Last night, she took Declan, while at the same time, I had Calia on my chest.* Then I got to hold Emmett in the rocker. What's great is their heart rate and respiration absorption rates shoot-up to maximum levels when they "kangaroo care" with us. Man, that's great.

*I couldn't get any snaps of her. Sorry. I can't hold the kid and work the camera at the same time.

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