Cash, Zane, and Cade

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

It Takes A Village

The last two days have been interesting. Carrie got back on Sunday. Her plane landed at around 5:00 p.m., and Tess Dog and I went to pick her up. After Tess goes completely nuts over seeing her Mom, we headed back up 183 North toward home and I would say we were going around 45 miles per hour in pretty heavy traffic. We were in the left lane. All of a sudden the car right next to us slammed into guardrail on their right and careened back toward us. I swerved hard to the left to get out of his way. The only reason this could have happened was some sort of texting issue or another phone related problem that the idiot was having. He stopped in the middle of the road, the right side of his car bashed in, and blocked the entire highway.

I had spent the past three days worrying about Carrie and our three boys.

My gut instinct was to stop. However, this instinct did not include helping this moron who managed to wreck his car for absolutely no reason. I had the overwhelming desire to rip him out of his car, bounce his head off of the pavement, and finish what he started.

Carrie was shook up.

I know that I will spend the rest of my life in a mild state of panic worrying about my wife and children. I'm okay with that. I must learn to fight the desire I have to lock us all in the house and keep everyone out with the threat of bodily harm. I really need to work on this. My weird control freak over protection bit is not really something that Carrie understands. I guess I don't understand it either. I have to get used to the fact that they are going to live in this world full of idiots. We just have to teach them to be smart enough to survive it.

Anyhow, Carrie's Mom moved to Austin yesterday. This was a fantastic whirlwind of events that had us all amazed how quickly and smoothly it went down. Well, smooth for the most part. Carrie's brother drove a truck filled with all of her stuff. This truck also pulled a trailer that was tied down with a tarp all Jed Clampett style. It looked like a modern day Beverly Hillbillies thing. They had even used duct tape to tie it down. Anyhow, they arrived in Austin at around 1:00 am on Monday morning. By 6:00 pm we had her moved into an apartment that she rented that day, unloaded all her stuff, and returned the truck and trailer to the rental agency with the right fender on the trailer all bashed in from an incident involving a gate.

Her apartment is five minutes from our house. This is going to be an awesome thing. She is close enough to help, but she can also drive away from the eye of the Hurricane and relax in her own sanctuary. Carrie's mom is way cool. I got really lucky there. How cool is she? I was carrying one of the boxes to the kitchen, and I looked down and saw two bottles of beer that I had left in her refrigerator over Christmas. She knew I would want them.

Carrie's Mom brought down all of the presents from the Illinois baby shower with her. We unloaded them into our living room, and I sat down with a cold beer to see all the cool stuff people had gotten us. I was overwhelmed with the generosity of our friends and family. We got toys, clothes, diapers, and more gift cards than I ever imagined. Some people got really creative. There was a Back Porch Mary onesie. That's the name of my band. How cool. Two of our very dear friends made onesies that said "I'm With The Band" with Krug 1, Krug 2, and Krug 3 on the back. We even got one whole car seat from two people that are awesome. There were all kinds of cool clothes with "Rock Star" and what not on them. Everything we got was great. Everyone was so nice to get our boys all these things.

The clothes are so little. The socks are so small. The shoes are tiny. Are our boys really going to be so little? Yep. It was overwhelming. This is for real! I can't wait for them to be here. I hope that someday they realize how many people loved them and cared about them before they were even born. There is absolutely no way that we could do this thing without all the support from our friends and family. Carrie and I would like to thank you all so much. Thanks for reading the blog and thanks for your comments. We read them all and really appreciate them.

We are going to the Doctor today for another appointment with the high risk Doctor. More measurements. More pictures. I cant' wait to see them and see how much they have grown. Carrie can feel them moving around a lot. On Thursday we are taking them to see Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder. I am excited that the boys will get to hear the greatest band on earth before they are even born. I really want to try and get Carrie's picture with Ricky, because I mean, how cool would that be?

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

That Thing You Say

When you are expecting a baby, you get a lot of advice from people. Mother's want to share their experiences. Grandmother's want to tell you how it was back in the day. All this advice can be overwhelming. It can also border on annoying. Carrie and I do our best to grin and say thank you. We hear a lot of stories about babies, multiples, and triplets. Here are a few quotes and how we would LIKE to respond. We don't. We contain ourselves.....most of the time.

Quote: You two are going to have your hands full!

Response: Really! That hadn't occurred to us. We thought since there are three of them, they could just change each others diapers and they would figure out how to feed themselves. You might be right. We better rethink this.

Quote: That's a lot of diapers!

Response: Not going to use them. We are going to suspend them in a tub full of water up to their necks and wash it out twice a day. They may look like prunes, but hey, we'll be saving money!

Quote: Is Carrie eating well? She really needs to concentrate on her nutrition.

Response: Not at all. Just Twinkies and Dr. Pepper for her. She also smokes a lot. It hadn't occurred to us that she should be eating for four. Thanks! We'll look into that.

Quote: I'd kill myself.

Response: That's probably a good idea. You have that face and we just have triplets. The triplets will grow up and be on their own. You will STILL have that face.

Quote: You aren't going to sleep much.

Response: Why not? We plan on just shutting the door when they start screaming. They can work it out on their own. I don't plan on missing much sleep because of this.

Quote: Those babies are going to need to eat.

Response: Wow. Hadn't thought of that one. Better get a job. Are you hiring? Know anyone who is?

Quote: Your life is going to change.

Response: Why should three infants change our lives? Should be business as usual around the house. Thanks for the warning. I'll write it down. "Life is going to change" Check.

Quote: You may want to ask your Doctor, but when I was pregnant......

Response: Doctor? You need a Doctor for this? We should have thought of asking our Doctor questions. We'll get a Doctor ASAP!

Quote: Have you thought about the delivery?

Response: Nope. Not at all. I guess that will happen. Maybe I should watch a C-Section on You Tube. Hey, I got it, I could talk to our Doctor when we get one.

Quote: I have friend that had twins. You should talk to them.

Response: Thank You! It had not occurred to us to talk to other people that have had multiples. That's a great idea. We can probably get some useful information there or some free stuff! Sweet.

Quote: Were you on fertility drugs?

Response: We were both so drunk it's hard to remember. We had done a LOT of drugs, but I can't remember if we popped any fertility drugs.

Quote: Do triplets run in your family?

Response: They usually crawl first, then walk, after that they run.

We realize that most people are just being helpful, and just want to throw in their two cents. It's funny to us, because we hear the same things over and over, and we realize that people don't realize that. We also realize that if this wouldn't have happened to us, we would be saying the same things to anyone else going through triplet terror. We laugh a lot. We are going to have to get used to the fact that the three of them are going to attract lots of attention. I just feel sorry for the first person who tries to touch them or say something rude. They are going to get Carrie's hand upside their head.

Monday, March 22, 2010


They say that stress builds itself up in your shoulders. The stress in my shoulders has apparently caused me to have some sort of strange pinched nerve in my left shoulder which causes my arm to hurt so bad, that at times, I can't grip the handle on a coffee pot. This is bad, because I really really enjoy coffee. It's also bad, because I do everything with my arms and hands. It's not bad at this moment, just after I have been doing any sort of work, or I have been using my arms to carry things.

Don't worry. Carrie and I are going to see a massage therapist very soon. Her hands fall asleep, and her back and shoulders hurt. Hers is of course caused by carrying around three boys. Mine is from years of carrying around a 15 pound guitar that has really altered my skeletal structure. That, and we are both a bit stressed out these days. We have two couches in our living room, and we both sit and talk for long periods of time about just how in the hell we plan on pulling all of this off. That and we talk about names. She is also way smarter than I am. Last night after we had been laying in bed for a while, both wide awake, she said this:

Carrie: We need to take a CPR class, maybe one that concentrates on children.

Dag nab it! Why is she so much smarter than I am? This had not even occurred to me. Of course we should. I'm a terrible father already!

Since this whole being a father of triplets thing has popped up, I have been remembering my own childhood. I am blessed with a very good memory. I remember things that stun my mother. Many of these moments are so vivid to me, it is almost like I can just step back into my three year old body and alter the events of the past.

I remember one specific incident that happened when I was around 5. This would have put my brother at around 2. I do remember this; he could not talk. Anyhow, Mom was reading a book and Dad was watching T.V. There was a candle burning on the coffee table. I was fascinated by fire. I grabbed a Kleenex, wadded it up, and stuck it in the flame. Mom and Dad weren't paying attention. I walked from the living room to the kitchen, and it started to burn my fingers, so I dropped it on the kitchen floor right in front of the refrigerator. Then I did the obvious thing and went and hid under the dining room table. Mom must have sensed something, so she came into the kitchen and saw the small fire burning on the carpet.

Mom: Richard! The floor is on fire!

Dad runs into the kitchen.

He is wearing socks.

Dad: Susie! Stomp it out!

Mom stomps it out with her shoe.

It had made like a three inch by three inch burn in the carpet.

I'm still under the table.

Dad: Michael! Come here.

I crawl out from under the table. Brother Jason is standing there.

Dad: Michael! What happened in here?

Now, I was scared. Mom and Dad were both staring at me.

Then it occurred to me. Jason can't talk!

Michael: Jason grabbed a Kleenex, stuck it in the candle, ran in here and dropped it on the kitchen floor.

Dad gives Mom a hard look.

They look at Jason who at this point realizes on some level that I had just thrown him under the bus.

He's two, so what could they really do? Dad picked Jason up and said "NO" like four times and pointed at the carpet. Then he went in and pointed at the candle and said "NO" a bunch. What was he supposed to do? Looking back on it, I am sure they really had no idea what to do. Their two year old son had started the house on fire.

I couldn't believe that I had gotten away with it. Dad kept looking at me and I'm pretty sure he wasn't totally sold on the whole Jason thing, but he had no proof.

Years later, I fessed up to it.

Dad just shook his head. This is a common reaction he has had to my antics over the years.

I had awesome parents. I never wanted for anything. I had everything I needed and many things that I'm sure I didn't. Some would call it spoiled. Maybe so. However, having the best Mom and Dad a kid could hope for really puts pressure on you not to screw up your own kids. I have to at least be as good as my old man. He was really good, so this freaks me out.

One more quick story.

I have a lot of very vivid memories from around the time that Mom was pregnant with my brother Jason. During this time, Dad brought me home my first kite. I was three. We went in the backyard over Dad's lunch hour to fly it. I remember the exact blue paint brush that he put through the toilet paper cardboard thing that the string was wrapped around. He let the string out and the kite flew up in the air. All three of us sat on the back porch and Dad handed me the paint brush.

Dad: Hold on to this. You can't let it go.

We sat down and I held the paint brush and watched my kite glide across the Kansas sky. I was amazed.

Dad sat on my left on Mom on my right.

I stared down at the blue paint brush that was running through the string holder.

Dad read my mind.

Dad: Don't let it go. Your kite will fly away.

We watched the kite for a few more minutes, and then I did what I had to do. It's what I would do for my whole life. I continue to do things just like this.

I let go.

The paint brush went skipping across the yard.

Dad jumped up, ran as fast as he could, and dove for the string. His hat came off and there was a cloud of dust where he landed.

He walked back to the porch and handed me the paint brush still stuck in the string holder, shaking his head.

Dad: I told you not to let it go.

I took it back from him. My Dad has always been there to bring me back my kite string.

I hope I can do as good for my boys.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Registering On Some Scale

Babies mean Baby Showers. People go ballistic over babies and a certain 50% of the population go absolutely nuts. Now, I understand the concept. However, registering for gifts is strange to me. Basically you are telling your friends and family........

"Hey, don't do any thinking on your own. Buy us this. This is what we want. This is what we need."

I guess this is how the whole world does it....

Anyway, Carrie and I went to Babies 'R' Us to do our registering. Now, there is one shower that will take place in Illinois, and another that will take place in Austin. The one in Austin is a couples shower where there will be a keg of beer. This makes complete and absolute sense to me. The only way to get a male to go to a baby shower is to have a keg of beer on hand. I have to hand it to the woman who invented this. This was a smart woman. I bet it was two women and it went like this;

Woman 1: Wouldn't it be great if the guys came to the baby shower?

Woman 2: Are you out of your mind? How are you going to pull that off?

Woman 1: Oh I don't know, couldn't we make it fun for them?

Woman 2: Hold it! I got it! We could promise them beer.

Woman 1: That's so crazy it just might work.

Woman 2: (yells at husband who is watching baseball) Honey! Come here a minute!

Husband: What?!! The game is on.

Woman 2: I said come here.

Husband walks into room because he knows what's good for him.

Woman 2: Honey, would you go to a baby shower?

Husband: If I was dead and you hauled my dead body to the shower, then yes, I suppose I would go.

Woman 2: How about if we got a keg of beer for you and the guys?

Husband: Then we would show up and drink it.

Woman 1 and Woman 2 exchange hi fives. Husband goes back to game and thinks his wife is a genius.

Now, I will go literally anywhere that there is a keg of beer. I will happily go to a baby shower, a dance recital, a figure skating contest, or a flower convention. I don't care. Beer rules.

I digress. Back to registering. So, we go into Babies 'R' Us and there is a person on their staff whose sole job is to help women register. Carrie goes to fill out the sheet, and one of the questions is:

How did you hear about Babies 'R' Us?

Are you kidding me? How do you not hear about Babies 'R' Us? If you are alive and in the United States of America, you have heard of Babies 'R' Us. We laugh. The lady helping us laughs.

Now, down to the business of picking out the stuff we need.

Bottles. There are many types of baby bottles. Ones with tubes that promise not to deliver air to the baby. Ones with curves, and nipples that are "natural". The choices seem endless. Then we see breast pumps. There are double breast pumps, ones that you carry on your shoulder, ones with soft cups, ones with hard cups, and they have these in a variety of prices. You can also RENT a breast pump. Then you need breast milk storage bags and a whole slew of things that are related to pumping. I feel dizzy.

Then there are towels. Towels for burping. Towels for bathing. Towels for laying around in. There are shower outfits along with three different types of baby bath tubs. Then there is all this stuff you need to give your baby a bath. Everything to clean and manicure your baby.

I have the little scanner thing, so I am the one that scans the item and adds it to our registry. I look around and there are other women with the scanning device. They are alone. I am the ONLY Dad. I have this to say about that:

Where in the hell are all the Dads?

I can't believe that you would send your wife, girlfriend, or whatever to do this alone. This is a BIG DEAL. This is your kid, or in my case kids. I want to know. If this particular afternoon was any indication about father involvement, then this country needs help. Sure, I am kinda bored and I really don't care which set of baby shower supplies we get, but I do care about a lot of it. I would never dream of sending Carrie to do this by herself. Besides, she might scan something uncool and we'll be stuck with it.

Car seats. There are lots of options and I still don't get the difference. Apparently, there is a Car Seat Test before you can take your kids home. The seat has to pass. These car seats only go to 32 pounds, then you need bigger ones. Some have shades. Some have things to play with.

What did people do before they had literally 50 choices on car seats and everything else regarding babies? I'm a child of the seventies.

Back in my day, kids stood in the front seat while Mom drove the car and chain smoked.

Dad was really tired after work and needed three or four cocktails to calm down before he could even DEAL with the kids.

We had toys that were made of lead and the only thing we were warned about was sitting too close to the television.

Our parents couldn't wait until we were old enough to go outside and play with asbestos.

We were allowed to play LAWN DARTS.

Now, there is a sea of items that make you feel like you are going to be a bad parent if you don't choose the right pacifier.

Next, we head into the jungle of crib bedding. This is a huge issue between Carrie and I. We can't agree on what color or colors to use for the baby room. I have my idea of an entire room with baseball and guitar stuff. She has her very modern ultra hip thing. We clash. Most of the baby crib stuff they have is so lame I can't believe it. Then it occurs to me.

Give in. Give up.

Why? Very simple. The stuff she wants looks really good, and I don't mind it. So I don't get my way. Big deal. I am cool with that. More than anything I want her to be happy with what color everything is. A happy Carrie makes a happy Mike.

However, I have learned to pick my battles, and I am taking the baby name thing to the mat. I have drawn a line in the sand, and I am determined to get my way. We are kicking around baby names, and we have it pretty much narrowed down. There is one name that I REALLY want, and Carrie is not completely sold on.

I am taking it all the way. This is MY battle. My boy will have this name.

I will probably end up with a black eye, but one of my boys will thank me in the end.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The Conversation

Triplet B: I'm serious. Stop moving around for just one minute.

Triplet C: Hold on! My arm is stuck over here against something.

Triplet B: Probably her spine. I swear if you move one more time, I'm going to kick you in the head.

Triplet A: Can you two shut up? She's watching The Office and that Dwight guy is funny.

Triplet C: I don't want to hear anything out of you "Mr. I have my own placenta all to myself."

Triplet A: Hey, we've been over this. Mother Nature. Luck of the Draw. Besides it's temporary. Another four and half months and we're outta here. Then Mr. Triplet A will finally be able to get my hands on both of you, and I'm telling you, it's going to get ugly.

Triplet B: If you think I'm hanging out and taking this thing full term you're out of your mind. I'm already tired of it. I get that we have to get big and viable, but at some point we are going to have to re-evaluate.

Triplet C: Of course we are going to get big. Imagine what she is going to look like. Wow. By the way, I sure wish they would come up with names for us. I really don't like the implications of being "Triplet C". The name automatically puts me third in line. It makes me feel like an underachiever or something.

Triplet B: Hey try being Triplet B. It sort of puts you in the middle. Middle children always have a rough go of it. Look at Peter and Jan Brady. They were always getting the shaft.

Triplet A: We will be the exact same age! By that way of thinking, I'm Triplet A. What are the expectations there? Am I the leader? Will I be expected to offer some sort of guidance? I don't need the pressure. However, I do think we need to stay inside here as long as possible. Give Dad a chance to get it together.

Triplet C: Oh...Dad....Wow...I always try and forget.

Triplet B: I on the other hand am really anxious to try this "BEER" stuff he goes on and on about. He seems industrious. Maybe he'll figure it out.

Triplet A: Don't get me wrong, I'm pulling for the old man, but the way I see it, he isn't exactly Donald Trump. We may be getting jobs early boys.

Triplet C: I tried to tell you! There was that nice couple in New York we could have gone with, but NO! You two wanted to live in Texas. They had a good 401K, the house was nicer, it wasn't so loud....

Triplet B: Whatever. Dad's a BBQ Master, and I'm really looking forward to the fun we can have with the old man. We may be broke, but he will be a fun Dad...when it's okay with Mom.

Triplet A: That's another thing. She's eating the same food all the time. Protein. Protein. Protein. How about a little variety? Would it kill her to change it up a bit?

Triplet B: For now I just want to sleep. Triplet C here snores too loud, and between him and that Dog, I really am not getting all the REM sleep I need. I can't wait to get out of here and get my own place. They ordered three cribs and one of them has "whatever my name is going to be" written all over it.

Triplet C: I just wish that would hurry up and decide on what color to paint our room. I mean, who cares? Just stay away from the weird animal and character themes. Did you hear them at the store the other day? They can't agree on anything. Baby stuff is so lame.

Triplet A: I agree, but I can feel the old man giving in. Lame is on the way.

Triplet B: Who cares? I don't care what they do. Feed me, make sure I'm clean, and leave me alone. I would like to be able to see the television from time to time. They better get me a bouncy seat with a drink holder. More than anything, I just don't want to ride around in mini-van. There will be no way to get chicks in a mini-van.

Triplet A: Mini-Vans are about as lame as they get. However, you have to consider gas mileage, ease of loading three kids, the dog, and not to mention there needs to be a TV in it. I'm pulling for the Suburban. We will get plenty of chicks in that. Plus triplets are adorable.

Triplet C: Who cares what they drive? I'm worried about the sonogram we have coming up, and I gotta say, I didn't really appreciate that punch in the face right when Mom and Dad were watching the last time.

Triplet A: That was funny.

Triplet C: Hey! It didn't happen to you. It happened to me, and it was embarrassing. It didn't hurt that much, Triplet B hits like a girl, but I really didn't feel like I deserved it. It was more degrading than anything. You're so violent.

Triplet B: Shut up or there's more where that one came from.

Triplet A: Hey! Listen up. She's yelling at someone on the phone. Wow! Our parents are a couple of hotheads. Have you heard the way Dad talks to people on the phone? Those are strangers. Imagine how he will talk to us when we screw up.

Triplet C: It could get rough. They both have very little patience.

Triplet A: It won't be long and the old man will be living vicariously through us. He'll make us play baseball, guitars, and try to live out all of his unfulfilled dreams by making us into major league baseball players with bands. I can't wait.

Triplet B: Personally, I just wish she would lay on the couch and watch Family Guy. I'll show them unmotivated. I'm going to be a drummer.

Triplet C: Whatever, just as long as we don't have to watch 16 and Pregnant. That show sucks. It portrays all of the fathers as deadbeats. Fine, I'm sure most 16 year old fathers are not all that responsible, but must television these days portray male figures in such a negative light? I don't thinks it's fair. All the shows on television portray the patriarch as an idiot.

Triplet B: You're an idiot.

Triplet A: Well, Mom and Dad both agree that we aren't going to be running around causing problems. The punishment they dole out will be swift and severe.

Triplet C: I'll call 911.

Triplet B: Good Luck.

Triplet A: Hold on Dad's got the headphones on her stomach again. I'm sure we are going to hear some more Guns 'n Roses.

Triplet B: I love it.

Triplet C: It does Rock.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Call It Sleep

Carrie is a dog person. I too am a dog person. My Dad raised dogs when I was a kid. We loved them. However, in my adult life I had never had a dog. I was gone all the time, and I didn't feel that it was fair to a dog to leave it at home with nothing to do. So, I have two cats. They are named Stan and Jackson. One day, about a year and a half ago, we had just gotten home from doing a series of shows. This was when Carrie was traveling with the band. I came into the living room and found Carrie online looking at dogs. She is a Boxer fan.

Carrie: I want a dog.

Me: No.

Carrie: I want a puppy. Look at this one. (shows me a boxer mix on the internet)

Me: There is absolutely no way we are a getting a dog. Period. End of story. We have two cats, we are never home, and we have a backyard with a pool in it that has limited space for a dog to run around. You have to train a dog, spend time with it, and I don't want one tearing up the yard. It's just not going to happen. Forget the whole dog thing, put it out of your head, and save it for another day. Perhaps someday, a long time from now, we can think about getting a dog, but absolutely no way are we getting one now. Forget about it.

About an hour later we were driving home with our new dog that we named Tess Riley Krug. She is a boxer mix. The one Carrie showed me online.

Okay, so I really really love our dog. She goes everywhere with me, and is very well trained. I actually don't know what I ever did without her. A dog is extremely loyal, and always up for anything. Wanna go for a ride? The dog does too. Wanna lay around and watch baseball? So does the dog. It's been really nice. She and the cats even have an uneasy truce.

However, I messed up big almost immediately. See, we had to have this big portable kennel that was going to be where the dog slept. Each night we would put her in there and eventually she would go to sleep.

This lasted for around four days.

I went back into the bedroom one night, and Carrie and Tess were laying in bed watching TV.

Me: OH NO! NO WAY! The dog is not going to sleep in the bed.

Carrie: But she likes it.

Me: I'm sure she does. (Tess is sprawled out on my side of the bed of course.)

Carrie: Look at her. She's tired and wants to sleep with her Mom.

Me: No way. It's not going to happen. I don't want to hear about it. We bought the kennel. The dog is supposed to sleep in the kennel. This will not stand. The dog is not sleeping in the bed. I don't even like the dog lying on the bed. I will not have this. Forget about it. In fact, get her off the bed now. I'm serious. I'm putting my foot down. End of story.

The dog slept in the bed that night and has every night since.

The kennel is on the back patio and after it rains, I dump the rain water out.

Good investment. A rain catcher.

Tess has grown into a very muscular 65 pound dog. She sleeps at the foot of the bed, on my side of course.

This way, when she runs in her sleep, she can kick me. She also wakes up periodically, and spins around and flops down directly on my legs. If she is not under the covers to her satisfaction, she will literally lift them up with her nose, crawl under them, spin around and pull them off of Carrie and I, flop back down, and sigh very loudly.

Every night when I come to bed, I have to move her out of my place and try and secure some real estate of my own.

It's never easy.

Normally, Carrie is a very light sleeper.

Pregnant Carrie is even worse. I have mentioned this before. She is uncomfortable and has trouble falling asleep, and if she wakes up, she has an even more difficult time going back to sleep. A Carrie without adequate sleep is, well, let's just say interesting to deal with.

I on the other hand, can sleep underneath a stage while a Rock band plays a show at full volume right above me. This is something you learn to do being a touring musician. If you plan on surviving, you need to learn to sleep on a floor in a Motel 6 room with a party literally going on all around you. You put earplugs in, throw your jacket over your head, and hope for the best. So, given a real bed and a quiet house, I can be asleep in about 3 minutes dog or no dog.

Since Carrie has trouble sleeping, I try and be hyper aware of how loud things are when she is in bed. I generally go to bed after she is asleep. I come into the bedroom, and quietly try and move the dog out of my spot and to the foot of the bed. If this goes well, I try and quietly slide under the covers and lay on my side. Apparently, I snore if I lay on my back. Carrie does not generally snore. However, it has been allergy season in Texas which means that almost everyone has sinus problems and even the best snore a bit. The other night, I used the Voice Memo feature on my IPHONE to record her snoring. It was hard, because I had to start recording, wait for the light on the phone to go off, and then hold it over her head and try to get a good mic placement for optimum recording. I finally got a 30 second sample that was decent. I like it when I know she is asleep. At least she is resting.

There are other issues.

Jackson is a very loud cat. In the middle of the night, just when I know Carrie is asleep, the dog is happily under the covers, and things seem okay, it happens.

Jackson: MEOW!! MEOW!! MEOW!!

I don't know what his problem is! He has food! He just walks through the house yelling. I don't get it. I get up and he is usually standing in the middle of the living room. I do that loud whisper thing.

Me: Jackson! Stop it. SHUT UP!! Seriously, what are you trying to do? You want to get given away? It's coming. Seriously, shut up!

I go back to bed and he finally quiets down.

Then the "Tess Show" starts.

Tess stands up in bed, dragging the covers off of Carrie. I leap into action.

Loud Whisper again.

Me: Tess! Lay down! Please!

I pull the covers back onto Carrie.

Tess starts that shake thing, like most dogs do if they are wet. She does it completely dry and it's really loud even if she isn't wearing her collar. She comes up and puts her face in mine. She can't talk, but I think this is how the conversation would go:

Tess: Hey idiot. Wake up.

I try to act asleep.

Tess: I know you are awake. Get up and let me outside. I'm serious.

She jumps off the bed and makes a loud thud. Then she starts stretching. Then she yawns really loud. Then she does that loud shake thing again.

Tess: Don't make me go over on her side of the bed. I'll wake her up. I don't care.


I get up and let her outside. I sit down in the chair and wait. A few minutes later she literally smacks the glass door with her paw.

Tess: Hey idiot. Let me back in.

I open the door and she walks right back into the bedroom, gets on my side of the bed, and lays down.

I move her to the foot of the bed and we start all over.

The worst is when Tess hears something outside. This is both a good and a bad thing. If someone even walks by the house on the sidewalk, Tess goes crazy. There is absolutely no warning. If the doorbell rings, this sets her off like you wouldn't believe. I like it, because she always lets us know if someone or something is in the front yard. This makes Carrie feel safe. It is inconvenient when I am home and we are sound asleep. All of a sudden....


Leaps off of the bed and runs to the window.


Carrie: What is her problem?

Me: I don't know. I'll look.

Usually it's a cat or another dog in the front yard.

Any noise will wake Carrie, and I am loud. All the doors squeak. The cats run around like maniacs. Tess is up and down. People drive by the house and you can hear doors slam. Helicopters sometimes fly over head.

We do our best.

I get up very early, and the older I get the more of a morning person I become. Carrie does not share the same love of the morning that I do. She would rather wake up, give the morning the finger, and sleep until the sun is high in the Texas sky.

I'm sure the three boys will keep quiet and let their mother sleep.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

....and the Winner Is

Well, we went to the high risk pregnancy Doctor today. He seems like a good guy with a lot of experience. 36 years to be exact, so he has seen his fair share of...well....pregnant women. Carrie was nervous of course. We really had no idea what to expect with this appointment. Turns out it was an hour long sonogram where they took measurements of every arm, hand, heart, abdomen, and so on.

The babies are all healthy, normal, and growing as they should be. They are thrashing about and you see can them really well. We didn't think that we would be able to find out the sex of the babies at this appointment. We thought that we would have to wait until March 18th, with Dr. Handcock to see what we had.

Turns out, these kids are overachievers, and we now know.


So, we are obviously going to shut down the poll. Here are the results:

Three Boys - 19 Votes receiving 12% of the vote
Three Girls - 21 Votes receiving 13%
Two Boys and a Girl - 63 Votes receiving 43%
Two Girls and a Boy - 47 Votes receiving 30%

Obviously Two Boys and a Girl Won by a pretty wide margin.

You know where I voted.

Today was really amazing. I can honestly say that it was the single greatest moment of my life up until now. Carrie agrees that finding out that they were healthy and finding out the sexes was equally awesome.

Right now, the Doctor refers to them as Triplet A, Triplet B, and Triplet C.

The Doctor measured A first, moved onto B, and then finally C. Just as he was getting started on the readings on triplet C, Triplet B punched Triplet C right in the face.

Carrie and I started laughing.

Doctor: That won't be the last time that happens.

No it won't.

So...what are they?

What do you have?

We are having............


Monday, March 1, 2010


I am not a good shopper. When I need something, I want to get in and out. However, I really like shopping for tools. Tools are fun. My father, and every other man I have ever known has always said, "There is nothing like having the right tool for the job." This is so true. Tools are necessary for a man like myself. I love shops tools and working on things. I really like having tools. I like having my shop in order and standing next to my workbench, drinking beer, and surveying my tool kingdom.

Maternity clothes are like tools. You need to have them to do the job of being pregnant. As a pregnant woman, there is no way you are going to be able to wear your normal clothes during this pregnant time. If you are pregnant with triplets, your normal clothes will become useless really quick. The time came around here to get some tools. Carrie needed some maternity clothes.

Carrie is extremely bad at shopping. When we got together and I found out that she hated shopping, this was a huge selling point for me. Have you ever seen a guy whose wife really likes shopping? He is the guy that is sitting on the bench at the mall. Maybe he has a cup of coffee. Maybe he has some candy or some food from the food court. You can easily spot a man like this. He looks beat down. He is sitting on that bench knowing full well that his wife is racking up the credit card debt on items she will no doubt bury in her closet after wearing once. Often times, the kid or kids will be hanging out with Dad if they are small. If they are old enough they are running around spending money themselves. This is a hurt, broken man. He just stares at his feet and waits until he can go home and watch television.

Fortunately, I do not have this problem. Carrie is awesome. She hates stores. She hates dressing rooms. She does not like to browse. When she needs something, she runs in and gets it, and runs out. Often times, I can sit in the car and wait. I think I actually enjoy and tolerate shopping more than she does.

Yesterday was different. Since she is growing by the day, we don't know what size she is. We decided to go to a couple of places and check out the maternity clothes. I was happy to go. I wanted to contribute and make sure she had the right tools for the job. The first place we went to was totally lame. There was nothing hip or cool about these clothes at all.

Me: How about this shirt?

I was holding up some weird flower print loud shirt type blouse.

Carrie: NO! That looks like an old lady would wear it.

It was true. I was amazed at the geriatric flair that all the clothes seemed to have. Old women are rarely pregnant. Why design pregnant clothes for them? I have nothing against old women by the way. Many of them are snappy, downright stylish dressers. Old women wouldn't have liked these clothes either.

While at this store, I discovered that maternity pants are weird. They look like regular pants, but they have this huge elastic kinda stretchy thing around the top that is suppose to fit around the woman's belly I guess. They don't look comfortable at all. In fact, they sort of look like something you would carry a bowling ball around in. You could tie up that elastic part, drop a bowling ball in it, and use the legs as the handle. Anyhow, nothing at this store was very cool, so we went somewhere else.

Austin is a large town with lots of stores. There is one store that Carrie wanted to visit that supposedly had some good deals on maternity clothes. I won't mention names, but it had Navy and Old in the name. There are lots of these stores in town at various malls, strip centers, ect. However, the only store in this particular chain that carried maternity clothes was clear outside of town in Bee Caves. That was okay with me. It was a nice day for a drive. After we left the store with the completely lame clothes, we went down to this place. I found it hard to believe that they only had maternity clothes at this one branch.

They had clothes for a reasonable price. We picked out some shirts, tank tops, and couple of dresses. Now for pants. There is one particular size that pregnant women seem to be. This was the size that we figured out that Carrie needed. She tried on one size bigger.

Me: Looks great!

Carrie: They are too big.

Me: Not for long.


We ended up getting the shirts. Pants will have to be ordered online.

We had an incident during check-out.

Some young girl was working the register.

The total was $47.58

Carrie handed the girl $50.60 cash

The girl handed Carrie back $2.78


Carrie: I gave you $50.60

Girl stares at her computer. Hoping for help.

Carrie: You owe me $3.02

I went and and sat on a bench by the door. I figured that if Carrie got agitated enough, she would tell this girl exactly how dumb she was and what exactly she could do with her change.

I braced for the worst.

Carrie: Why would I give you change in order to get back a bunch of change?

Girl continues to look to the machine for the answer.

Change counting is a lost art.

Carrie: You owe me $3.02.

It was at this point, that a MANAGER had to come over and assist this girl in coming up with the correct change.

Carrie got her $3.02 and we left without further incident.

On most mornings Carrie comes into the kitchen after getting dressed and says:

Carrie: Does this look stupid?

Now, even if I really thought that it looked stupid, why would I ever in any kind of situation on any planet tell her that?

Telling your pregnant wife that she looks stupid sounds like just about the dumbest thing you can say.

Here are some other things to avoid?

"Can you stop your moaning? You're uncomfortable I get it."

"I'm really going to need you to start making sense."

"You got yourself into this."

"Are you just going to lay there all day?"

"I have to drink this much to deal with you."

If you currently have a pregnant wife, avoiding saying these things out loud.

I do try and survey the clothing and I am very honest. Personally, I always think Carrie looks beautiful. I always tell her that. She doesn't always believe me. Right now, she looks more beautiful than ever.