It has arrived. I really thought that my Daddy might be right, and that we may have outgrown it. It is beginning to seem that this might become something as dependable as Christmas and Thanksgiving. We are officially SICK. Last year, it came that very first week of November. We had ventured out to the Madame Alexander Doll Show in hopes of finding Vivie something wonderful for Christmas. Afterwards, we stopped by Daddy's on the way home to say, "Hi" and show him how cute we were all dressed up in our going out clothes and all. I am not sure if we picked it up at Toy Fair, or if we managed to catch something from being at Daddy's house (he has three small children too,however they weren't even home at the time!) But the symptoms were there, and we were undeniably SICK. It was my first run-in with exactly what low-tolerance immune systems really are all about. The kids came down with the sniffles that first weekend of November, and it managed to last all winter long

Whenever I watch my husband play with our daughter, I always think back to my vague memories of what I must have been like at that age.  Did I adore my Daddy as much as Vivie adores my husband? It's an odd thing to think of, really. After all, I love my Daddy.  I have really given this idea a lot of thought recently. I can remember sitting in my Daddy's lap on the sofa, watching television with him.  I must have been very small because some of the time I remember being able to sit with my back against his knees with my legs crossed in front of his chest.  There are a lot of memories like that. I remember him taking me along to get Donuts for breakfast from Southern Maid on Sunday mornings, and us going in search of a present for my Mum at Christmas.  Fast-forward many years, and here we are. I am much older now, and so much has happened over the years.  To make a long story short, Mum died 13 years ago (literally just before Bregon was born) and my baby sister has married, divo

Well, you really never know if you are carrying one baby, or three when you find out that you are pregnant with triplets!  At any point, a Mum runs the risk of losing one, two or even all three of the babies. Carrying triplets is probably the scariest endeavor I have ever endured.  In the beginning, of course you find out that you are pregnant and you haven’t any clue that there is more than one tiny person growing inside.  Because of my prior health problems, my doctor decided to do an ultrasound at 9 weeks out. Because of a previous miscarriage, I was worried about the doctor not finding any heart beat.  Little did I know, that lab tech would find not one, but THREE tiny heartbeats! What a shocker!  No, I  didn ’t faint or pass out, although it did help that I was already lying down. But then again, that lab tech was too surprised to say anything more than, “ How many baby’s would you like?”  All I could say was, “How many baby’s are you seeing?” Of course we now know the answer was

What's a Mum to do? My eldest will become a teenager in no less than 14 days. I have so much to do, so much to learn, so much to put up with!  The first big issue is one that we have every few years or so, depending on when Leap Year falls. Bregon's birthday actually has the audacity to fall on Thanksgiving this year.  This is NOT something that he looks forward to. In fact, he actually dreads having his birthday celebration lumped in with the Thanksgiving turkey.  He has very stoically agreed to attend Thanksgiving with the family, but ONLY if and ONLY if, they agree NOT to stick a candle in the darn turkey.  His words, not mine! The first time this happened, we just cancelled Thanksgiving altogether as my family had other plans anyways that year, and we had a good friend in Houston who had wanted for us to have a sort of dysfunctional family Thanksgiving down there at her lake-house.  We ended up with a full-blown bon-fire party complete with hot dogs and s'mores and Harr

Lately, I have been dreading the coming of the Holidays. It's not that I don't love them, I really do.  It's just that I am not too certain how I should handle the holidays with my over-abundance of toddlers.  Last year was really quite simple. Thanksgiving was easy because the babies were not quite as mobile as they are now, and they really just spent most of lunch in their carriers, content to watch the folly of the adults which apparently made for interesting amusement.  Christmas Eve at my Grandfather's went well because the babies again were regulated to their carriers and were fine with sitting in a semi-circle chattering amongst themselves about the goings on with the adults.  Christmas was cancelled for the most part at the last minute due to my nieces and nephew all being sick.  We just stayed at home and did our own thing there and it was all good. In fact, it worked out well because it took the babies a couple of days to unwrap all of their presents because t

I had always heard how much different little girls are compared to baby boys. It's only been recently that the big differences are starting to show themselves, though!  First off, I have been Mum to a little boy for the past almost thirteen years. Then, about 19 months ago, I delivered two more baby boys and a baby girl.  Now, I knew something was up from watching my daughter's behavior on the many ultrasounds that I had during my pregnancy.  While the boys were very open and excited (for the most part unless your name was Kai and you pouted because you were not looked at first,) to get poked and prodded by the ultrasound wand, Vivie was very elusive.  She would literally run from that wand, and in order to verify that she was, in fact, going to be a beautiful baby girl, it took no less than three people to find out.  One poor soul had to maneuver the ultrasound wand. Another tech attempted to block off her escape route on one side of my tummy.  Then there was my doctor who, fi

This morning, sometime after breakfast, and sometime prior to nap-time, a diaper exploded.  Now, I am not even certain as to exactly who it belonged to, or rather, even which diaper actually even exploded, but the evidence remains proof positive, that it did.  I innocently went to the baby gate and said my usual, "Who's ready for a nap?" I was greeted with a very sad very wet Baby Vivienne.  Somewhere along the way, she actually managed to LOSE her diaper. How, I shall never know, but it happened.  She still had her pajama's on, is the odd part. I still do not know if she somehow shimmied it off, or if she had some brotherly help.  I did find it neatly placed on the shelf, though, neatly folded as if to send me the message that the previous owner would like it returned at some point, and preferably soon!  I managed to get Vivienne cleaned up, changed into her brother's Lightening McQueen's, and twinkled upstairs for her nap.  Then I went back for her brothers.