Lessons Learned: 1999

Parenting is a tremendous experience under any circumstances.However, as Father of two year old Triplets--Sara, Zane, & Carter--I'll venture to say my experience these past two years qualifies me as a kind of expert in child development. I'll never rival Dr. Spock, but having multiples is a kind of condensed parenting experience whose lessons are both unique and universal.

For example, this past year, my wife Jill and I have changed approximately 10,000 diapers; made and distributed about 6,570 bottles, sippie cups, and other drinking devices; served 3,285 baby meals; picked u 3,284 baby meals off the floor (Jill caught one); mediated 16,420 baby disputes; suffered numerous and humiliating assaults on our dignity in public; and generally had one heck of a good time.

So, if that doesn't qualify me as an expert, it certainly gives me special insight into children, parenting, and the nature of human's in general. What follows is a partial recitation into the lessons I've learned these past two years.

Lesson One: There are Differences Between Men and Women:
The differences between men and women are obvious, aren't they? Some most certainly are, but having children has highlighted certain aspects of womanhood that are particularly mystifying. For example: What is the purpose behind dressing babies to be cute? Aren't they pretty well, by nature, cute? Does it really take matching shoes, socks, pants, shirts, sweaters, jackets, and hats to establish the obvious fact that babies are, indeed, cute?

Evidently the answer is yes because Jill spends at least 75% of her disposable time in pursuit of clothing for the kids. On the days where if falls upon me to dress the babies, navigating my way through their vast array of clothes in order to come up with 3 sets that are cute, functional, and color coordinated is a fairly overwhelming task for me.

Jill, on the other hand, will stand at the door of the closet and study the various combinations, no doubt employing mathematics so complex Einstein would be stumped, in order come up with the perfect combination for that particular day. Therein lies the difference: Women care--really, really care--what the children wear; men just want them covered in cloth of some kind.

Speaking of keeping the babies covered, this deceptively simple task has become increasingly difficult over the past year. While learning to dress and undress is, of course, an important developmental milestone, Sara has become frighteningly fond of getting buck naked and running around the house with a joyful exuberance that seems more than a bit disturbing to me. While I'm quite used to the sight of the naked baies, I fear that this is somehow a harbinger of things to come.

Fortunately, we got a recent report from their pre-school teacher that in disputes with other children, Zane and Carter will often come to her rescue and vice versa. Taking care of each other is a lesson we've been trying to teach them literally since day one and it's rewarding to see them coming to it naturally if not by our attempts to teach them. However, there's a bonus to this behavior that has recently occurred to me. Her brothers will probably take care of the unpleasant business ahead of keeping Sara's potential suitors in line. If I remember my adolescence--and I don't-- but it seems that brothers were generally far more intimidating to me than fathers because brothers were more likely to hang out at the same places I did and therefore had far more opportunity to beat on me if I disrespected their sisters.

At least I'm hoping that's the way it works. If not, Jill's way meaner than I am so any way you look at it, I probably won't have to be the bad guy. This, of course, is another important difference between men and women--women are generally smarter and meaner than men. This realization makes me know that in the future, my real problems probably won't be worrying about someone watching over Sara, but will be that I'll have Sara and Jill wielding their evil female power over me. Perhaps I should really be hoping that the boys will watch over and protect me from Jill and Sara. Not that this would do any good because any way you look at it, Carter, Zane, and I are far outnumbered in the Raines Household.

Lesson Two: Never Judge a Dirty Word by the Sound it Makes Coming from a Toddler"s Mouth
During this year, we have experienced the tremendously exciting early development of the babies' language skills. Over the year, we have gone from the exquisitely thrilling "Da-Da" (all three babies' first words, I might add), to complete and somewhat grammatically correct sentences.

The babies are in that wonderful, terrible "Human Tape Recorder" stage where they are liable to pick up anything they hear. Jill, having the habit of cursing like a sailor, has had to really start watching her language. However, most of the salty language coming from the babes' mouths is more a misunderstanding than anything else.

For example, making the "r" sound is generally difficult for young mouths to master, but for ours words that contain both "sh" and "r" sounds all end up sounding like a certain expletive that rhymes with "mitt." As a result, shirt, church, sit, and numerous others come out sounding rather naughty. Currently, all three kids have a fascination with clocks of all types which coincides with an inability to pronounce the letter "L." So, if you come to our house and don't have a chicken under your arm, they're probably asking to see your watch.

Carter is, so far, the most verbal. He starts talking the minute he wakes up, exercising his need to identify the things he sees first thing in the morning as if to be sure that we haven't renamed everything in the middle of the night. He's also picked up numerous strange little verbal idiosyncrasies that seem to come from no where. For example, he's fond of saying "Yee-Haw," and "I like it!" for no apparent reason.Perhaps his oddest speech habit is crying out "Honey, Honey, Honey" when he's feeling distressed.

Sara is most likely to automatically answer "no" to every question. However, she has recently begun saying "sure" in the place of "yes." It's not exactly an enthusiastic "sure", but aloof, like she's saying, "Well, as Princess of this domain, I generally don't partake in such common activity. However, I'll grant you an exception just this once." Just about the time I was starting to feel a bit annoyed by this phrase she began to also say "Thank you, Daddy." Well, so much for my parental resolve. I find her new phrase so endearing she could ask me to cut off my big toe and as long as she followed the request with "Tenk You, Daddy," it would seem worthwhile.

Lesson Three: You are Destined to Become your Parent
This year 's events have forced Jill and me to begin to teach the babies--this word always leaves a bad taste in my mouth--discipline. Jill--being the eldest of 5 children, a lawyer, and currently an actual honest-to-goodness judge (well, okay, a Department of Labor Administrative Law Judge)--is much better at making and enforcing rules than I am. I, being the youngest of 3 children and neither by vocation nor avocation a judge, am not so good at the whole idea of rules. I'm much more of a rules-were-made-to-be-broken kind of person.

However, I'm dedicated to this parenting thing and therefore have been doing my best to enforce the rules that we set for them. It's just that recently I hear myself saying things like, "Don't make me come in there," when the babies begin to squabble over some real or imagined insult, assault, or other injury. I drive a minivan and like it, I'm in bed most nights before 10, and I have a life as predicable as an atomic clock. These things are all strangely fine with me. It's just weird to face the realization that parenthood brings on all these adult behaviors. I guess it's better than being in prison—most of the time.

Lesson Four: Destruction is an Expression of a Creative Mind
In the past year, the babies have torn much of the wallpaper off in the nursery; destroyed 90% of our carpet with various viscous liquids, bodily fluids, and other less desirable substances; broken priceless family heirlooms; shredded unread magazines, mail, legal documents, and unpaid bills; decapitated and dismembered numerous Elmos, Barneys and other defenseless corporate shills; and, ultimately, destroyed, disassembled, and discombobulated much of what they've come into contact with.

This is a good thing--really, it is.

My mother loves to tell stories about how I took apart (broke) every electronic thing in our house. This is extreme exaggeration. I took apart only a few radios, tape players, and TV sets; every toy I ever owned; my bicycle; and the engine of her 1965 Barracuda. That's hardly everything. The point is, I was curious about those things and that's why I took them apart. Unfortunately, I usually got lost by the time things were taken apart and was lucky to cram everything back in the case and claim, "It just broke."

Curiosity is good and a creative mind is a valuable tool for survival as an adult. After all, I've managed to stay employed and prosper, even with degrees in English and History. I owe this all to the empowerment and creativity I learned while destroying consumer electronics as a child. Someday I'll probably be mad enough to lock somebody in a trunk for disassembling my computer with a crow bar. However, when that day comes, I'm going to try to remember—and convince Jill—that these destructive acts are learning experiences that will help our children mature into adults with productive and creative lives. If I fail, being locked into a trunk can be a learning experience as well.

5: Traveling With Children Isn't a Job, it just feels like it.
We took 3 trips with the babies this year. The first was a long weekend trip to visit Jill's extended family in Alabama. We drove, and the babies handled the trip pretty well. However, the next trip was almost 6 months later and the babies were far more mobile, which changed everything

It was a spur-of-the-moment weekend get away where -- after the first 5 minutes of chasing babies run amok, pulling them off tabletops, out from underneath furniture, out of cabinets, and generally trying to keep them out of the multitude of baby death traps the cabin contained -- I was ready to go home. I remember sitting on the couch, whining to Jill, "Can we please go home--now?"

Lesson 6: There is Often a Very Fine Line Between a Blessing and a Curse
While everything about triplets and toddlers is a challenge, I think this may be the most challenging time for us so far. In Freudian terms, the babies are currently all id and no superego. They have learned the concept of "mine" really well but have yet to learn the concept of "we" or "ours." Sara has become particularly proprietary with everything she sees, to the point of squealing "mine, mine, mine" while furiously yanking on her brother's toes or feet should they crossover into her space.

Therefore, if you come to our house, (and you are all welcome, of course) be forewarned--few first-time visitors are prepared for the experience of the babies' huge force of energy, curiosity, beauty, intelligence, love, temper, violence, confusion, cunning, charming smiles, angry pouting, and every other contradiction you can think of. They are a true force of nature, and Jill and I are doing our best just to hang on most of the time. But it's a fun ride.

Two years ago I said if I had one wish it would be that we would never have to spend any more time in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU), and it occurred to me recently that we haven't and that I'm really, really thankful for that. For all the stuff that we've been through in the past two years--the earaches, the flu, the strep, the runny noses, the sleepless nights, the emergency room, the various and sundry medical appliances and accoutrements, the general overwhelming nature of parenting multiples, and everything else that's been overwhelming--I'd gladly take a double or triple dose of everything rather than have to spend one more day, hour, minute, or second in the NICU.

So, our best holiday wishes go to you, our friends, and to all the brave souls who work in the NICUs of the world and for all the miracles they make happen every day. We are especially thankful for the wonderful NICU staff at OKC's Presbyterian Hospital who took such good care of us when we had to be there. Our prayers go to all the families who are spending time in NICUs this holiday season; may they all have the blessings we've had with our wonderful babies.

But first, to definitively answer the oft-asked question of what it's like to have triplets, I can only say, "It's not more fun than a barrel of monkeys, but it is a barrel of monkeys."