A year is 365 days.
The last year consisted of the following:
13,140 Diapers
4,380 Bottles
1,460 Feedings
These are averages of course. They may vary a bit one way or the other, but it's a pretty good estimate.
One thing to think about is that there are 8,760 hours in one year.
That is 1.5 diapers per hour for a whole a year.
On one hand, the year that has passed since June 2nd, 2010 seems like the longest year of our lives.
On the other hand, it seems like it went by in the blink of an eye.
That's the more overpowering feeling. The blink of an eye thing. This has gone very very fast.
This is Cade Richard on the day he was born:
Here is Cade Richard after breakfast on his first birthday:
This is Zane Chad on the day he was born:
Here is Zane Chad after breakfast on his very first birthday:
This is Cash Dean on the day he was born:
Here is Cash Dean on his first birthday:
What a difference a year makes.
One year.
365 days.
I can't get over it.
I don't care who you are, that's a miracle.
We have another family member that was born in June also. This is Tess Riley around the time she came home:
Here is Tess Riley Krug on June 2nd, 2011. She is pretty excited about the fact that her little brothers are turning ONE.
Summing up the last year is pretty difficult. It's hard to put a neat little bow on it and wrap it up. I have to say, it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. We are pretty lucky to have three really good babies. They never got sick. We didn't have any of those crazy stay up all night long dealing with screaming babies episodes that I was convinced would happen all the time. After we got home from the NICU, the worst thing we have had to deal with is diaper rash.
Yep, we are very lucky.
Memories of the NICU are tough. Looking back at the pictures of the boys the day they were born is pretty rough. At the time, we thought they were the most beautiful things on earth. And they were. However, compared to what they look like now, they look like little purple aliens. The time in the NICU seems like a blur. I think back on it, and I remember a lot of it, but it just flew by in such a rush of stress ridden days that it's hard to think about. I have never experienced such extreme highs and horrible lows as you do in the NICU.
Once again, and I'm sure they are still reading this, to everyone at Scott and White Hospital in Temple, Texas....Thank You.
Of all the changes that have taken place over the last year, I know one thing for sure. These kids have really changed the way Carrie and I spend a night out on the town. Last night was our two year Wedding Anniversary. Yes, the boys were born one day after our first wedding anniversary. Anyhow, we went out to dinner last night. As we were coming home, I couldn't help but think of the massive difference between a night out before triplets and a night out after triplets.
Let's take a look.
Before Triplets:
Head out around 8:00 p.m. Find a parking lot for the car that doesn't mind if we pick it up the next morning. Head to a restaurant. Grab a starter cocktail and tell the waiter to keep 'em coming. Have dinner while we talk about work. I might tell Carrie about a book I've been reading. She might tell me about a song she heard on the radio and ask me who sang it. I would probably bore Carrie with some historical fact about the building we were in or the neighborhood. We would talk about getting a new cool car or I would describe the perfect guitar that I want. Towards the end of dinner we start figuring out where our friends were going to be. Next we would head out on foot to find them. Find the bar everyone was at and start ordering shots. This is when drinking was considered an Olympic Event for both of us. The music was loud. We had loud conversations with friends, and we didn't stop until the lights came on at 2:00 a.m. Next, it was time for to find a sober driver or to call a cab. If a sober driver was available, a stop at What-A-Burger was mandatory. If not, the cab ride home. Once we were home, I hate to say it but there was usually a night cap. After that bed at around 4:00 a.m. The next morning wake up at noon and try to piece together the night and figure out how to retrieve the car from its parking place downtown.
After Triplets:
Dinner at 7:00. Maybe have one beer with dinner and then a second one if things are going well. Talk about nothing but the triplets. What they need. How they act. What we think is coming next, and so on and so forth. 8:20 finish dinner and think we should at least hit a bar since we are downtown. Find a bar, order a beer, continue to talk about the triplets. After one beer, take a look at the clock, see that it is 9:20 p.m., and decide to head home. Home by 9:45 and in bed by 10:30.
It's all good with me, cause I'm old and tire easily.
Besides, one thing I have noticed is that by 7:00 a.m. the boys want to eat no matter how many beers I have had. After breakfast they go into their walkers and slam them around the house like bumper cars. They yell at the top of their lungs and try to break things. They chase the dog and cat around. Everyday is a pretty crazy Triplet Rodeo, and I guarantee that you don't want to show up to one of these things with a hangover. After they get bored with the walkers they crawl around on the floor. They grab everything in site and try and destroy it. Someone always wants held. It's pretty serious.
As you'd expect, we wouldn't change a thing. I can't believe the boys are one year old. That's crazy. We made it through the first year. Everyone said that the first year was going to be the hardest. Well, here we are.
Happy Birthday to our little boys.
1 comment:
I can't believe they turned a year old. Beautifully written, as usual. You make Paul and I feel much less lame for not completely kickin' it last weekend when we had a sitter on Saturday night. We went to dinner. I had a giant margarita. Paul had a giant beer. We came home and retired to the deck for one more cocktail. We were in bed by 11:00 p.m. The house was WAY too quiet in the morning. You learn to welcome the noise of 3 kids. Blessings to all 5 of you.
Staci Byers
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