There are No Dumb Questions. Only Dumb People.

Our situation practically begs for questions. Everywhere we go we get interrogated. "Are they triplets?" "How big were they?" "Whose are they?" (cringe). We vary our responses dependent upon where we are and who is asking. If we're in this hillbilly town in which we live, we usually lie. "Oh, they're mine" or "They're hers" or "Dunno. We found 'em". It beats having to outrun angry villagers with pitchforks. If we're in Olympia, we usually release a bit more information. But sometimes I do sometimes feel like we're being given the third degree.

Sometimes when people realize that Cass and I are BOTH the moms, they will just turn on their heel and walk away. Mid-sentence. That's disheartening, but I guess it's better than them saying something in a tone that would scare the kids. Others will approach us and say, "I think your family is GREAT. Keep up the good work and best of luck!" Fortunately, there are more of the latter than the former. And that gives me hope.

We get a lot of questions about the "donor". Gotta be honest, I don't even really think about him. Cassie got a blood transfusion when she had Drew, but we don't spend much time thinking about the person who donated the blood. Before the IVF procedure, we spent a lot of time choosing a donor. We looked for intelligence, values, and, obviously, looks. But the second we conceived, the girls became all ours. And while they inherited genes from the generous stranger who donated sperm, all their traits and habits are uniquely their own. So, I'm always a bit startled when people ask about the donor. Simply because, well, I kinda forget he had anything to do with this at all. I look for characteristics that remind me of Cass or her family. But the things that are unfamiliar just become unique to the child.

Most strangers with questions are well-intentioned. We're an unusual spectacle, and we know it, so we expect some inquiries. But, wow. Some people. It seems that since we have the gall to appear in public, people feel entitled to ask either the dumbest or the most personal of questions:

"Did you have them vaginally?" Dude. Did you just say "vaginally" to me? In Safeway? Who the hell asks that? In return, I usually ask them about their bowels.

"How big did you get?" Well, this is a tough one. Do they want my weight? Our combined weights? A measurement of some sort? I usually say, "even bigger than I am now". A fat girl saying that usually embarrasses them and they move on.

"Are they natural?" How does one answer this? "Yes, but they use artificial sweeteners..."? "They are cyborgs?" I know they're asking if we used fertility drugs, but again, you are a stranger. I am extreme-coupon-shopping for Triscuits. Go away!

"Which one is the smart one/cute one/brat?" I dunno, but I bet I can guess who the stupid one is in YOUR family!

"Are they identical?" I realize I see them all the time and can easily tell them apart. But, seriously. Drew is 3 inches taller than the other two with green eyes, while the others have blue. So, um?

Most of our friends and family are pretty well-versed on the whole situation, so they've had their questions answered. And we don't mind their questions because they know us. But there have been some comments that blew me away.

One friend said, "Now that you've been pregnant, don't cheat on each other with men. You'll be much more likely to get pregnant." I'm SO glad you told me. I was just waiting for a free weekend so I could cheat with a man. But now I won't. You saved me a lot of heartache...

One incredibly ballsy friend said, "The girls are old enough now for daycare. It's time for you to get a job." She has not been invited back.

I'm always amused (and not-so-amused) when people tell me they know "JUST what we're going through!" They say, "Oh, my two sons were born 2 years apart, so I know JUST what you're going through!" or "I raised FOUR kids, so I know JUST what you're going through!" (Of course, those four kids took 12 years to all be born...) Actually, you don't know what we're going through. Don't get me wrong, our kids are miracles and our worlds revolve around them. But, having three newborns, then three infants, then three toddlers is just not the same as having a 12-year-old, an 8-year-old, a 4-year-old, and a baby. Not saying that isn't insanely hard--it undoubtedly is. Nor am I saying this is necessarily harder. It's just different and it comes with challenges (and joys!) that are unique.

Generally speaking, I really enjoy answering people's questions. I am so proud of my girls and, to be honest, with us! It's a story that's hard to tell in soundbites, and I worry about some fools' reactions, but overall, it's my favorite subject to discuss!

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She Ain't Heavy; She's My Sister!

A friend of ours recently told us that it's magic and wondrous how much we will love our children. But when they start to love each other, it will change everything.

Being natural twins, Devynn and Delaney have always had an innate, somewhat creepy, connection. They often awaken within seconds of each other, even when at opposite ends of the house. They become agitated and upset when the other is sad or distressed. They certainly have a bond unlike anything I've seen. But the relationship between all three has now blossomed into a fasinating sibling alliance.

The rivalry and infighting is already in full effect. They bicker and tease and torment. While I was a bit disconcerted when it began so early, I wasn't shocked to see it. There's a fair bit of triplet violence, and at any given time, each kid has at least one bite mark and a sisterly bruise. Despite the fighting, there is a lot of affection. And I am happily surprised by their love and concern for one another.

Devynn and Drew have strong attachments to their blankets. In fact, I wonder sometimes if they have actually grown into the webbing of their hands. They drag these smelly, grossness-encrusted shrines around like Linus, and we have to sneak them away for the occasional surreptitious laundry date. Delaney has no real interest in the blanket phenomenon. However, whenever she's having a meltdown, Drew will bring her every blanket within reach, trying to somehow comfort her. Eventually, Laney will just take one out of pity and pretend to be mollified. What she really wants is a binkie for each hand and one in her mouth. So, if Drew or Devynn seems the least bit out of sorts, she will find a binkie lying around and forcefully insert it in the screaming sister's mouth. It's an effort of love, but it rarely has good results.

Occasionally the constant crying and whining even gets to the kids. If Laney has had a particularly rough spell, Drew will walk by and casually toss a binkie in her lap. In other words, "Stuff this in your pie hole. I'd like to have some peace and quiet around here!"

Yesterday, Delaney was sitting in the arm chair and Drew was trying to climb up to sit by her. She'd get halfway up and slide back down to the floor. Her frustration was building, and she was on the verge of a Drew-sized tantrum. Ever-helpful Laney finally intervened. She reached down, placed one hand on each side of Drew's head, and pulled as hard as she could on her hair. She simply was offering assistance! But again---ended badly.

We are suckers for a cheap laugh, and we will do nearly anything to elicit a giggle from the girls. Mainly this is done by tickling. So whenever Drew spots an unattended sister on the floor, she drops down next to them and "tickles" them with great ferocity. Unfortunately, her efforts often leave blood blisters and scratches. But she means well.

The other morning, Dev was laying on the floor with her blanket--just chillin'. Drew came over and petted her back for a moment. It was simple and sweet. Just a bit of affection struck her and she showed her sister some love.

All this love can cause some problems. Delaney can barely stand it when Drew is napping. She points to the bedroom door about every 90 seconds and says, "Dew-dew?" Since they usually sleep in the same room, if she awakens first, I have to grab her and get her out of the room quickly before she realizes Drew is still sleeping. She will give an ear-splitting shriek of excitement to attempt to wake her sleeping sister. And will not stop until Drew is as happy about the situation as she is.

The kissing...can get a bit out of hand. Kids this age haven't quite figured out the whole "pucker up!" thing. So they give huge, gaping, open-mouthed kisses. When Laney is feeling lovey, she'll come at one of her sisters with her jaw practically dislocated looking for a kiss. Now, since she has been know to be a biter, her sisters typically turn tail and run. But occasionally they'll chance a smooch. And if it goes well.... soon the drool soaks the carpet, their tonsils are involved; it's really quite gross. I don't want to discourage their affection, but it does require intervention after a while. When their teeth start clacking together, I usually break it up.

I've always admired and somewhat envied the bond between sisters. I sincerely hope that our daughters will always be there for one another, be each other's best friends, and just love one another to pieces.

Expecting the Unexpected (And Unexpecting the Expected)

Kids are unpredictable little buggers. They have more emotional and mental juke moves than imaginable. Working around the daily surprises keeps life interesting.

Sitting on my butt for 8 months, cooking these little wonders, I had a lot of time to plan. I planned how a day in the life would go. I planned when bedtime would be, what they would eat for meals, what adorable outfits they would wear, who would be with us at the births, who would help us in the first years. But babies don't care about plans. The better planned out an idea was, the more atrociously awry it went.

The unexpected started at the beginning. Triplets were about as unexpected as it gets. I really hadn't imagined it was possible. Twins, possibly. But three? Huh-uh.

As I've mentioned before, the pregnancies were ugly. They were the Murphy's Law pregnancies. We tried to be flexible and roll with the punches. But at the end, when Cassie and I were both on bedrest--alone and terrified, we got a taste of what was to come.

I "expected" to be able to do this on our own. I thought, "yeah, it'll be hard. But we can take care of three infants/toddlers/kids by ourselves." It may be legal for one person to care for three infants, but it isn't very safe, and it certainly isn't the most attentive of environments. We needed a lot of help.

I "expected" my kids to sleep through the night at 4 months. Even typing this, I'm actually giggling out loud. We have yet to experience a night where all three kids slept 8+ hours without requiring a bottle, rocking, binkie, or some other sort of interaction. Now admittedly, they sleep a lot more than they used to, and we can expect large chunks of rest that, even 4 months ago, were rare. But my expectation was blown out of the water by a painful, sleepless reality.

I "expected" we'd have more company than we could handle, and I "expected" I knew who the majority of visitors would be. I've always thought myself a good judge of human behavior. But I admit, I was astounded by the people who came through for us (and, to be perfectly honest, the people who were obviously absent) through the first year. Cassie's co-workers provided delicious meals and bags of groceries while we were on bedrest. My wonderful brother, who had four school-age kids of his own, came out while we were pregnant and completed a "honey-do" list as long as my arm. When the first round o' kids came, his amazing wife came to town. She stayed at our freezing little cabin with questionable cable and very little phone service. She tidied and readied it. She washed all the kids' bedding and clothing. She picked up our dogs from the kennel and took great care of them. Then when I was released from the hospital, she came and helped me with the twins while Cassie was in the hospital with Drew. She moved all of our stuff from the cabin to the Tree House, from the Tree House to a friend's house, from that friend's house to another friend's house, and then back to the cabin. She was our hero. It is quite possible that one or more of us would not have survived without her help. And her kids and husband were so patient to let us borrow her for such a long time. We also had wonderful help from Danielle and Cassie's mom and sister in those first few weeks of settling in. They really came through for us in big, unimaginable ways. And, of course, Nanny/Auntie Cathy has been invaluable. Without her, we really could not have done it. Not sure what we would've done. Go on welfare so Cassie could stay home? Sell drugs? Not sure, but I am not exaggerating when I say, we could not have done the last year without her.

I get melancholy reading my family and friends' Facebook statuses which say, "Had a great dinner with three generations of family!" or "Thanks so much to so-and-so who stayed with my kids so we could go out on our weekly date!" or "Had my brother and his kids over for movies and popcorn!" I so wish I was geographically close to friends and family. Our friends in Seattle and Tacoma like to remind us that we live "SO far away!!". So, for the most part, folks aren't likely to make the hour long trip to visit. I understand. We all have busy lives. Oh, but how I CRAVE adult conversations, changes of human scenery, and diverse energies in the house. A friend from Billings visited this month and it was heaven! It was just so refreshing to have someone new around. The kids were happier, they slept better, and so did moms!

Our kids love meeting new people, but without a lot of help and planning, it's very difficult to take the whole posse out. If Drew doesn't need a nap, then Dev just fell asleep. If Delaney is feeling well, then Drew is catching a cold. So we have no choice but to rely on people to come to us. But, sadly, the novelty of us wore off quickly. And now, I am forced to turn to Sesame Street for company.

Damn, lovable little Elmo!

I can't blame folks for not being more involved. Truth is, I had no idea what the reality of triplets in a tiny town with no friends or family around would be. So how can I expect others to know what it's like? Fortunately, in a few months, I anticipate (not expect...I dare not use THAT word again!) our kids will be a bit more flexible and able to handle outings. And, as our beautiful Northwest weather dries out a bit, that will at least allow for some fresh air!

Expectations are funny things. We place so much emphasis on our arrogant projection of how others will behave. We have full control of these projections. But we have no control over the behavior we've convinced ourselves to expect. Inevitably, we are disappointed or unprepared or otherwise surprised.

I stumbled upon this quote and thought it had remarkable wisdom for parents:

"I do my thing and you do yours. I am not in this world to live up to your expectations, and you are not in this world to live up to mine. You are you and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, then it is beautiful. If not, it can't be helped."
--Gestalt prayer

Being an effective, happy parent requires a great deal of flexibility. No one would ever accuse me of having an overabundance of such. But I'm working at it. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst and viewing the unexpected not as terrifying, but as exciting.

525,600 Minutes

Never has a year of my life flown by as quickly. In some ways the most difficult year of my life, but in most ways, the best. Where did these minutes disappear? I miss my babies. But I love my little girls.

For this, the "Birthday Blog", I want tell you about each of my little angels. The change and growth which has occurred in the first year has been exponential. So though I've described them as babies, I want to introduce them to you as little people.

Delaney Jill
For so long, you were the tiniest, the frailest. Since, you've come roaring forth to become a healthy, strong, willful little gal. Still gentle, your personality has exploded in recent months, making us smile, laugh, and, occasionally, gasp.

You love music and have some wicked dance moves. You hang on to your little music table and shake your booty, wave your hands and twist your hips. Such a girlie-girl!

You prefer to play independently, but love to mimic your sisters--even mimicking some of their strangest behaviors (like banging your head against the couch?).

You learned quickly how to endear yourself and you work the cuddle-bug angle. I love holding you, feeling you mold into me and doze into a perfectly relaxing sleep. You are so trusting and mild-mannered. When you meet someone new, you flirt and coo--showing off all your cuteness. Everyone gravitates to your cute nature and you have developed quite a fan base.

You crave the skills your sisters have mastered, but are tentative about risks. Besides, why walk when you can bat your big blue eyes and be carried?

You overcame overwhelming odds to meet and exceed developmental milestones. You are a fighter--tiny but mighty! And not so tiny anymore... Born underweight, underdeveloped and at risk, you now are the biggest of the three. You are my little miracle, and I'm humbled to have you in my life.



















Devynn Jane

When you were born, you seemed so strong and ready for the world. Within an hour, though, it became clear you were struggling to breathe on your own, and I was so worried when they took you to join your sister in the NICU. However, you thrived and soon I was able to do your caretaking--changing your diaper (the size of a pack of playing cards), taking your temperature, and feeding you from a bottle scarcely larger than an eyedropper. Since Delaney was not in the condition to be held and Drew was still inside Mommy C, I was able to spend all my time with you. Sitting next to your little incubator, I sang you songs, told you stories, and tickled your tiny arm. When I left you at night, I'd stare at your picture on my phone until I dozed off.

You were, and continue to be, my little mystery. Each day you let me in on some of the secrets to your personality. So sensitive, easily overwhelmed, with a cry that rips me in half. Oh, but such a big girl! You walked first (at 10 months!) and are viciously protective of your "little" sisters. You show an intuition and instinct which is endearing and surprisingly mature. You're particular and occasionally daring.

You "sing" yourself to sleep and throughout the night, much to the chagrin of those trying to sleep near you. You laugh with zeal at the smallest things. When you run to me, arms outstretched, it is nearly more than my heart can bear. How I love you, my darling.









Drew Jessi
You were born kicking and screaming, and your energy has never diminished. You wake each morning laughing uproariously and jump up and down in your crib until we join the party. You are my little pal.

One day, when you were about 6 weeks old, your Mommy C was holding you. I came in to the room and said, "Hi, Drew-Drew!" You raised your head and your eyes opened wide in recognition and excitement. That was our moment. We've been joined at the hip ever since. You look at me from the corner of your eye, (so mischievious!) and I am excited for the practical jokes we will play on your mom and sisters.

You feel so deeply--whether it be joy or sorrow. When your feelings are hurt (and how easily they can be), your beautiful green eyes well with tears and I want to wrap you up in my arms and protect you from everything forever. When you are overcome with love, you come running, grab my face with both hands and shriek with joy. You are so filled with passion and intensity. Learning to walk was a bit of a challenge for you (even though you did it at 10 1/2 months, rockstar!) because you couldn't get your feet to slow down. Why walk when you can run?

I hope you always embrace every aspect of living with verve: storm life, fear no feeling, and soak it all in.

...And then there's Delaney.

When little Delaney was taken to the NICU with noticeable urgency, I made her a little deal in my head: you survive this, you can have anything you want. Always. A pony at 3? Okay. A new car at 12? Done.

Well, I guess she was listening. And my behavior in the subsequent months did a great deal to reinforce her status as a princess.

Let me be clear, I don't mean to imply that I felt favortism toward her, just an unreasonable protectiveness. I rarely let anyone else hold her, I fed her nearly all her bottles, she slept in her car seat next to me in the bed, etc., etc., etc. I was terrified that her fragile beginnings would make her more susceptible to illness, injury, or another malady.

Infants are brilliant. While some of their systems are just jumbles of disconnected information searching for order, their base intuitions are very sharp. For example, when they handed me Drew in the operating room, she immediately calmed and fell asleep. For two days, she was inconsolable unless Cassie or I were holding her. She knew her mothers, and I believe this was only partially from memories in the womb. Humans have thrived for thousands of years because of such instincts.

Well, Delaney picked up on this little chink in my armor... and exploited the hell out of it.

We started the kids on "supervised tummy time" at about one month. Devynn wasn't a fan, but usually just dozed off. Drew would enjoy it for a while, then whine until we moved her to another position. We would place Delaney onto her tummy and she would unload in a heart-wrenching, soul-splitting howl. Giant tears flooded her eyes as she looked at us af if we had betrayed her at the deepest level. That effectively ended that day's tummy time.

She worked this little routine for months. And months and months. When she was six months old, she still freaked out within minutes of being placed on her tummy. She hated it, and only the most cold-hearted could allow such suffering to continue. Drew was rolling from front to back. Devynn was rolling from back to front. They were beginning to scoot around on their butts and tummies. And then there was Delaney. Perfectly content to sit quietly on Cathy's lap or in her bouncy seat, or in an Exersaucer, Bumbo, or any other contraption which kept her out of harm's way.

When we visited the Mary Bridge Neo-natal follow-up program initially, they expressed only mild concern about Delaney's gross motor skills. She seemed a bit behind, but nothing terribly unusual for a preemie. However, at her second visit, they were alarmed at her delay. They scheduled a follow up to track her progress and see if more frequent physical therapy was required.

When we brought her in again, the physical therapist worked with her for a few minutes, and next thing I know, she's got Delaney wrapped around her waist, koala style, with Laney in full cuddle mode. I smirked a bit. I thought, "Huh. Guess we're not the only ones who can't resist her charms." But she wouldn't let go. The therapist tried unsuccessfully no less than 5 times to set her on the floor, but Delaney held on like hot duct tape. Then it was the therapist's turn to smirk. She said, "I believe I see the problem."

Turns out we (okay, okay... I...) had literally SPOILED Delaney into a gross motor skill delay. She had all the skill sets and musculature to perform the tasks in quesiton, but absolutely no desire to do so. The physical therapist told us enough was enough. We were to stiffen our upper lips and let this kid do some growing up.

Well, she's a stubborn one. While she did begin scooting just a few days after this appointment, she still refuses to crawl in the traditional hand-knee formation. She uses one foot, one knee, her butt and one hand. It's cute, but quite inefficient.

Devynn began walking at 10 months, 8 days old. Since preemies are often considered by their "Corrected Age", this would make her 9 months old on the nose when she started walking. Dang impressive! Drew began walking at 10 months, 23 days. Also remarkable!

Then there's Delaney. She'll stand from time to time, but then gets stuck in standing position and can't figure out how to get down. She just stands there and cries until one of us comes to her rescue. Now, this is not terribly unusual, and her development is catching up exponentially. But she lets us know that she is working on HER time schedule, and we need not hurry her along.

I think Delaney will always do things in her little way. There are times when she gives me a little sideways glance, I suspect she remembers our little negotiation, and she'll always know how to work me...

It's the Little Things

When taking care of three infants full time, adulthood can go flying out the window. Our living room and dining room have become playrooms, our bedroom a nursery, and our bathroom ... well ... it's just become filthy. I always promised myself that having kids would not steal away my identity as an adult, but that was easier promised than delivered. All my clothes are stained with baby carrots and vomit, I had to cut off my hair because the kids were pulling it out, I can no longer wear jewelry or my glasses, and I often catch myself, while standing alone, rocking back and forth. I'm hoping that's because I'm so used to rocking babies, and not a sign that soon I'll be in a tin-foil hat, rocking softly, speaking to the squirrels and eating dandelions. But I'm not certain.

Anyway, one thing that is keeping that string tied between myself and sanity is a focus on things that are fun diversions. These are things both little and big, funny and serious, personal and public. Everyday, I can have something that is an indulgence, that spoils me a bit, and allows me a chance to re-boot, if only for a minute. I hope that in this way, I can be a more patient, attentive parent. Here are a few of these little things:

National Geographic Channel's "Air Emergency"

I seriously love this show. I shouldn't admit that I am fascinated by plane crashes; this might just be tempting fate a bit too much. But, I do watch this with sick enthrallment. It's on Tuesday mornings at 9 a.m., a busy time, so the kids rarely let me actually watch much of an episode. However, even a few minutes gets me my fix.

Taco Bell's Cantina Tacos

So these little nuggets of greasy goodness will surely be just a temporary addition to the Taco Bell menu, and, admittedly, they aren't exactly gourmet fare. However, everything else at Taco Bell tastes EXACTLY the same. The tacos taste like the burritos taste like the Mexican pizzas taste like the nachos. With cantina tacos, I am paying $4 for what I get for $11.95 across the street at the Mexican food place. The key is lots of fresh cilantro and CORN tortillas. Yum.

Pampers Good To Grow Points

This wonderful scheme to enforce consumer brand loyalty has me smitten. Inside every pack of Pampers are hard-to-remove stickers with, like, 48 letter/numbers printed on them. One goes to pampers.com, and, after wading through some of the slowest loading pages on all the web, enters these painfully long, nonsensical letter/number combinations into one's account. Then they are awarded "points" that can be redeemed for stuff. The point value you receive is about 1 point per dollar spent. The value for redemption is about 1 point = 1 cent. Not much of an ROI, but then again, after spending 27 cents on a diaper only to have it filled with poop, I have learned to take these little victories anyway I can.

Besides, points can be spent on Starbucks gift cards. And that leads me to:

Starbucks.

This corporate behemoth owns me. It has for years. I find a great deal of solace in an afternoon latte from Starbucks. And, yes, I know how much this is costing me. But, forgive my Northwest snootiness, Starbucks is our very own trailblazer which led the way for all the other coffee companies which now claim to be better than 'bucks. What I find amazing about Starbucks is a double tall, non-fat, no foam latte ordered at the flagship store in Pike Place Market will be the same as that drink ordered in Tucson, Fargo, or Boston. I'm not an everyday visitor to the holy temple of coffee. But 2-3 times a week, this gratifying, overpriced little treat resets me like nothing else.

I certainly don't need anything to feel great about the way things are. I have an amazing life with a wonderful family. But just like Drew has her blankey and Delaney has her binky, these little security objects link me to my selfish inner child. They are just some indulgences that I find amusing and, oddly, satisfying.

Rule #1

So, we have a list of "Truths" around here. Rule #1, Babies are gross. Rule #2, refer to rule #1.

And they are. Really disgusting little creatures. Their exploration of self and surroundings leads to some discoveries which turn the tummy.

First of all, they are booger making machines! I've become quite handy with the nasal aspirating bulb--can free a stuck bat from the cave in under 10 seconds. But their favorite method of boog-removal is simply rubbing their nose crazily on my shirt until it's relocated.

All three of our kids have suffered from quite severe reflux, so for a while it was kind of a barf bath around here. It was a good day if we (the caretakers) only went through three shirts each, and maybe just one change of pants. You'll notice that our kids have bibs on in all their pictures from about 2 months to 7 months. Once they started solids, it mellowed out a bit, but bibs were required attire for quite a while.

Of course, then there's the poop. Again, until solids started, we could count on one "blow-out" per day. These were up-the-back nightmares requiring a full bath and lots of scrubbing of the victimized clothing. These tiny little miracles produce more pollution than BP. I estimate on a particularly "active" day, we change about 12 poopy diapers. It's even worse during teething, when 12 can come from one kid.

Some of the things the girls do are just plain bizarre. And gross. Devynn discovered her tongue not long ago, and began pulling at it. She couldn't get it out...thankfully...so she put her hand further and further down her throat. Well, you can imagine how THAT ended. Fortunately, this phase only lasted a couple of days.

Recently, Devynn has begun spitting large amounts of drool on the linoleum, then sucking it back up. Not sure what this does for her development, but I say, Rock on with yo' bad self, Devvy!

So, in addition to being gross, babies are expensive! I remember many years ago a friend of mine saying kids aren't too expensive until they start school--only about $100 extra per month. Clearly inflation has affected this figure. Substantially.

Admittedly, formula is much more expensive than breastfeeding, but as previously mentioned, that's not a realistic option for us. The kids are all on the regular formula now, and we go through about 6 cans a week. That's about $350 a month. (When they were on the preemie formula, it was more expensive, but then, they didn't drink as much either.) Our kids kill about 25 diapers and 40-65 wipes on a particularly "active" day. That's about $330 a month. They eat about 35 jars of baby food and 3 boxes of rice cereal a week. Another $100 a month. And then there's desitin, tylenol, mylicon, poly-vitamins, hypoallergenic baby wash and lotion, fragrance/dye free detergents, blah blah blah. That $100 "extra" per month is looking pretty dated!

Ah, well. For all the puke, poop, boogs, money, gray hair, and wrinkles--they are worth it over and over again.