My Diary of Triplet Fatherhood

Possibly the most engaging part of having three young children, I find, is how infectious their curiosity is. For them, the world is brand new. Every object is a mystery to be unravelled; every space is a virgin landscape to explore.

What else, really, is baby-proofing, if not forcing yourself to get down on hands and knees and see a room through the eyes of a voracious hunter of new experiences. And how telling that it’s so hard to see all the dangers, to span the two worldviews, applying grown-up knowledge of consequence and danger to one guided by possibility and fearlessness. In a way it makes me jealous, to know that my mind won’t ever be a blank canvas again.

Tonight, Evie spent a good fifteen minutes poking my front teeth. Over and over again, she applied a single index finger with all the earnest curiosity of someone searching for the kind of secret door commonly found in stately homes, her furrowed brow seeming to say that, sure, the last twenty pokes might have found these things to be merely white and slippery but there’s got to be a hidden catch somewhere… perhaps if I poke… just… here? Nope. Well, perhaps… here? Or… here? And so on. I’ve no idea what she expected might happen but I rather wish I could have done something surprising to reward the effort she put in. Unfortunately I don’t know any tooth tricks.

I should probably count myself lucky that she was only poking, really. The girls’ explorations aren’t always so gentle. With every toy becoming a potential danger in the hands of someone who’s three main means of investigation are the gentle prod, the cautious bite, and whacking her nearest sister with the object at full force, you learn to count yourself lucky when merely prodded. Which is why, incidently, every new gift is now screened in case it needs to be placed in the “supervised play only” box we keep for anything heavy, hard or otherwise dangerous when applied at great speed to the nose.

Home life is great at the moment. The long period of illness between February and April seems a distant memory, the weather is warm, I have more time than ever to spend at home and my girls are a pleasure to be around. Not only are they almost entirely good natured and happy but it’s almost impossible not to be infected by the active interest they’re all taking in the world.

To commemorate how nice this period is, here’s a few random photos that, hopefully, give a sense of what life with three active, healthy little girls is like.

Here’s Evie, kindly cleaning Scarlett’s teeth. Attempting to anyway. At least she wasn’t whacking her sister too hard this time.

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And Evie, again, playing with the stacking cups they all love. Of course, stacking is something of a misnomer in their case, whacking-and-scattering-into-every-corner-of-the-house cups might be a better name (although not quite so catchy, admittedly).

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Here’s Jemima, proud at having dashed across the floor and retrieved an interesting cube in record time.

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And Scarlett, having dashed across the floor in record time… got stuck. Poor thing. Unfortunately, neither her nor her sisters has quite figured out about going round obstacles. The day before this was taken, I found her underneath a kitchen chair, arms and legs pumping as she tried to reach a toy on the other side, but getting nowhere as her forehead was against the crossbeam between the chair’s legs.

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And here’s me, Evie and Lettie, caught playing “flying cars” instead of doing the morning feed. Oops.

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Who’s playing wth my shoelaces? Jem was somewhere above my head last time I looked up from the board book I’m reading to Evie, but she was playing on her toy piano then and the discordant clang of her launching herself at all four keys together stopped a few seconds ago. With the speed she moves nowadays, she could be anywhere.

A slender finger begins to carefully intrude into my ear hole and pause to see who’s taking such an interest in my orifice. “Anything interesting in there?” I ask, turning to see… Scarlett (It takes me a moment to figure out who’s doing the exploring from such close range). Apparently not. She squawks once, nearly shattering my eardrum, and rolls off in search of other entertainment.

Which means, I realise as I turn back to Evie, that it must be Jem who is at my feet. Was at my feet, I should say, as my foot no longer registers any tugging. I don’t have long to wonder where Jem might be, however, as Evie is suddenly screaming in protest (right next to my other ear – ouch!). The facts that Evie can’t crawl yet, isn’t quite so strong as her sisters and Jemima has all the single-minded unstoppability of a steam train when she sets her sights on a destination means that this is an increasingly common situation, having to rescue Evie from being trapped under her sister, arms and legs pumping methodically as she tries to traverse the obstacle in her path.

I sweep them both up in my arms and they instantly forget their collision, squeeking with excitement instead. I roll sideways and there find Scarlett has come to investigate the rumpus. A raspberry on her neck has her squeeling, too, and I’m happy as I’ve ever been.

Looking over some of the older photos I’ve posted here, I find myself struck with nostalgia. Evie, Lettie and Jem have changed so much since they first arrived in my life. I can still carry two in my arms at once but not three and not for any length of time without becoming tired. They have teeth now and, as they crawl, a little of their chubbiness is falling away. Their hair is thicker.

The real difference, however, is in how they act. Leaving the room for two minutes yesterday I was surprised that, for the first time in months, they hadn’t moved. Usually, they’re in constant motion, rolling, commando-style crawling, or, in the case of Jemima, sliding along on the back of her head, to investigate anything and everything within reach. They’ve switched from passivity to taking a very active interest in the world and while that’s fascinating to be part of, it’s also the beginning of the long road to independence.

I feel nostalgic not only for the quiet awestruck newness of their first arrival but I also , for the first time, I feel a little nostalgic regret for their growing up. I love how things are now, just as I loved how things were three months ago and three months before that. But those three girls aren’t stopping for anyone and I want to treasure every moment of our journey together.

I even find myself experiencing a kind or premature nostalgia for things yet to come. Each girl I see in the street makes me wonder how my own girls will be at that age. One girl I saw, probably 17 or 18, driving through Leeds in a brand new Clio, two friends in with her, all obviously relishing how grown up it felt to be cruising in the summer sunshine, made me particularly vertiginous. One day my girls would be there, on the cusp of leaving home, childhood passed and with it the dependence of youth. I imagined these moments I treasure becoming sparser, limited to trips home and holidays and felt, for a moment, terribly sad for my future loss.

I find something similar with younger children, too. I watch kids playing with their parents in the park, being walked to school, older kids going to school alone or out with their friends, and I wonder about my own children at such an age. How they will be, how our relationships will have changed, how I will feel.

The things I want for them, to be happy, confident and interested in the world, are also the things that will allow them to make their own way in life. It’s so strange, to be a parent: to love someone so much that you devote everything to preparing them to be able to leave you.

Perhaps the best thing is to concentrate on the here and now. Right now I’m happy, my children are beautiful and fascinating, I have more time than ever to spend with J and them as a family. And while, sure, all this will have changed before long, it hasn’t changed now and whatever happens, I’ll never lose these memories.

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Sorry to have kept anyone waiting anyone who was wondering if I’d survived my weekend of solo triplet-wrangling. I did, and with an emergency biscuit to spare (although not for long – turns out it was a celebration biscuit, too).

Anyway, these last couple of weeks have been amazing. All three girls seem to be going through a period of accelerated learning. First Jemima crawled slowly, then Scarlett did, too. A few days later, Jem also managed to sit up, while both her and Scarlett are becoming progressively faster in their crawling. At the same time, Scarlett managed to master both “mama” and “dada”, while Evie started to say “mama” (Jemima, by the way, only says “dada” – hopefully they’re not taking sides), and both Scarlett and Evie have begun to be able to mimic me and J. Scarlett having woken up early one lunchtime, J managed to teach her to wave. It’s so cute and I find myself waving to her long periods. Meanwhile I taught Evie to make a red indian warcry by patting my hand on her mouth as she shouts, which Scarlett has also picked up and even built upon doing the hand action herself. And Evie, being smaller than her sisters, is making up for being a little behind with strength by trailblazing the ability to feed herself. She’s picked up feeding herself soldiers of toast and boiled green beans while both her sisters are still using them to either crumble interestedly or scrunch into mush.

It’s like they’ve really woken up to the World around them and want to move around it, explore it, talk to people and interact with them. They are, in other words, starting to leave babyhood behind.

Now that I’m taking two mornings off a week, I get to really be part of all these developments. Although ti only adds up to one day, it seems that I have loads more time with the girls, which is wonderful. Not only does J get more support and sleep but I don’t have to cram all my quality time into a short weekend.

Every morning I’m off I take them to the swings which they’re only just big enough for but love all the same. Moving between the girls, swinging and playing with each one in turn, gets quite a lot of attention form other parents and kids but I don’t mind. I’m just happy to be there, enjoying the company of my kids and the summer sunshine.

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Roll on August when one day becomes two and a half!

Things got a little more complicated after the morning nap. Despite the rain, I decided to go for a walk round Kirkstall Abbey, and, two sodden turns round the grounds later, I had set off back home, a little late but nothing a little hurrying with making lunch wouldn’t make up for… only to find the Leeds Marathon filling the road dividing the Abbey (and us) from our house (and lunch).

Walking up to the crossing, I waited for the policeman manning it, on the opposite side of the road, to let us cross. “Not until there’s a gap”, was his response every time I made what-are-we-waiting-for mimes at him, a response that would hav seemed fair enough had the number of runners not been steadily increasing, the girls growing more and more fractious in the buggy and any chance of a gap diminishing seemingly in proportion to the chance of a three-baby meltdown occurring.

After a whole 15 minutes of waiting, I just crossed anyway, banking on the fact that arresting a man with three hungry babies for obstructing a major sporting event wouldn’t be worth the hassle.

Fortunately, it wasn’t.

Once home, I was just about getting things back on track when Scarlett, discovering a lump in her spaghetti bolognese, first started choking, then, just as I got near, puked her whole lunch over me, her, Jemima’s leg, their highchairs and the carpetted kitchen floor.

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Only one emergency biscuit left now.

I’m feeling quietly confident now; into the final stretch and still two emergency biscuits left.

I was only woken once last night… by J. I’d just drifted off to sleep when the phone rang and, once I remembered that the phone in the psare room is now in the cupboard, picked it up to hear Gary Barlow’s dulcet tones crooning out A Million Love Songs, together with what I assumed to be J’s voice whooping along excitedly every few seconds. Neither J nor Gary replied when I tried talking into the handset so I just listened until, a minute or so later, the phone went dead. I’d like to think the song was directed at me (by J, not Gary) but reckon it’s more likely that the phone was being waved in the air in time to the song and J just pressed the redial button by mistake.

One unfortunate side-effect of hearing Take That just before bed is that I have had their songs going round and round my head since 6am. Even singing breakfast-themed renditions to the girls this morning (Reheat My Porridge, A Million Spoonfuls, you get the idea) hasn’t shifted them.

Speaking of Evie, Lettie and Jem, they’re all in very good spirits today. I’ve been telling them there’s only two more sleeps until mummy’s home but I’m not entirely sure they’ve really noticed she’s gone. Evie’s been a little more clingy than usual but Jemima and Scarlett seem no less happy to roll about, play with toys and whack the kitchen cupboards or each other than on any other morning. Perhaps only when they see her will they realise what’s been missing these last few days.

This afternoon was lovely. Only one emergency biscuit needed, and that only to bouy me up in preparation of the last push. No crying, no refusal to eat, no heart-stopping dangers, just lots of messing about and fun.

Rain did come in the end so my planned return trip to the swings had to be abandoned in favour of a visit to Morrisons where the girls, as usual, attracted plenty of attention. Not that I minded. Looking after them single-handed made me somehow more proud of them today. Plus I was told that I was a wonderful husband by one old lady and the perfect man by another for looking after the girls all weekend which isn’t something you hear every day (every other day, maybe…).

I’m off to bed now. There’s still a lot more of the weekend left and I’m already feeling quite tired from the demands of uninterrupted triplet childcare.

So far so good. I have only had to eat one of the four emergency biscuits I have squirrelled away to help with shock or stress. The girls are all – scratch that, two out of three girls – are all sleeping.

It’s been very pleasant today. I managed to get eveyone out for a trip to the swings this morning. Fortunately, the weather reports have turned out to be wrong so instead of torrential rain, it’s lovely and sunny again. If the weather holds, I think a trip to the park may be in order later on.

Jem had a little bit of a temperature earlier, too, but the quick application of Calpol seems to have done the job. She’s cutting a front tooth so I expect it was just that.

I had a brief fright when Scarlett, still pursuing an apparent deathwish, was sucking on the plug socket when I came back from a brief bathroom break. Only when I snatched her away did I remember that we fitted socket protectors last week. Only the quick application of a chocolate biscuit helped me get over the shock.

Otherwise, things have been great, Scarlett even saying dada for the first time before breakfast. She said it to the fridge, mind, but I’m still quite excited. Come to think of it, though, when she said mama for the first time, earlier in the week, that was also addressed to the fridge. How very confused she must be.

It’s 6.30 and the first night has passed with little incident. I can hear Scarlett singing to her sisters in the nursery where all three are unswaddled in their cots. I wonder is she’s singing about how she got a special cuddle back to sleep from Daddy at 3am?

Just one wakening’s not too bad between three little girls. I went to bed early, too, so feel reasonably fresh.

Will post another update at lunchtime, hopefully. I have to unplug the network cable while the girls are downstairs now because J found Scarlett with it pulled out from under the rug and wrapped around her neck yesterday. Sounds terrifying.

The girls are asleep and this first small chunk of home alone time has been, I’d say, pretty successful except for a brief blip at the beginning that had e worried.

I think J making quite a big deal about saying goodbye, waving at the window, etc., while well intentioned, may not have been a great idea. As soon as the girls realised she wasn’t going to pop her head back up at the window again, first Evie, then all three burst into floods of tears. The poor things were distraught.

And no sooner had I calmed them down than I made a mistake myself. They’d finished their cauliflower cheese so I got a tub of brocolli out. Except, I only remembered three screwed up faces and another round of tears later J telling me that the only thing they don’t like is brocolli and she has to mix it with other food to hide the taste. Whoops.

Quickly switching to their favourite, bananas, milk and baby rice, I managed to calm the storm again and got to bedtime without an more untoward events. At bedtime, however, Evie, unusually for her, wouldn’t settle and I had to go up twice to cuddle her back into a calm state. I presume it can’t have been my perhaps ill-chosen bedtime poem, Disobedience, and she wasn”t hungry or thirsty.

Perhaps she misses J. I hope not. Forty eight hours are a long time in a nine-month old’s life.

Wish me well. Tonight I start the greatest test yet of triplet fatherhood. When J walks out the door at half past six to spend the weekend in Manchester, I’ll be all alone with my girls non-stop until Sunday afternoon.

A lot can happen in forty-eight hours, especially when you’re outnumbered three to one, but I’m not too worried. As long as they sleep reasonably well, I think I’ll be OK. It’s only if I’m up all night that I might struggle during the day. The girls need much more entertaining and watching nowadays, both of which are exhausting enough without being sleep deprived.

So, yeah, I’m not worried about J walking out the door and leaving me. Just what she might find when she walks back in.

One thing I never expected from fatherhood was how wonderfully and incessantly fascinating it is. Hardly a day goes by without either the girls doing something new or differently, or without me gaining new perspectives on life in general from watching them.

Seeing how a human being (well, three human beings) are built, step by step, one skill balanced carefully upon another, makes me realise how complex the things I, as an adult, take for granted are. Evelyn, Scarlett and Jemima started with nothing but instincts but, over the course of this past nine months, have developed so much. Movement, fine motor skills, balance, interaction, analytical thinking, remembering things, people, places and events – all these areas have had to be built up one small step at a time.

It’s particularly interesting to see how all three girls develop different skills at different times. Jem spends hours each day lifting herself up on her hands and knees and will be crawling before we know it. Lettie loves fine objects like string, ribbons and labels, and is happy to pull at and explore them for hours. As a result she’s the first to have learnt to drop objects (who’d have thought that came so much later than picking them up?). And Evie’s latest love is food. Not to eat, of course, to play with. Barely a meal goes by without her ending up with a face (and neck, and hair) full of porridge, liver, lentils or whatever else she’s been eating.

One thing fascinates them all at the moment, though: toothbrushes. We introdued teeth cleaning after baths a month or so ago and have since discovered that nothing keeps the ones not in the bath better entertained than giving them their brush to play with. They lie happily on the playmat, putting it into their mouths, looking surprised at the bristlyness, taking it out and examining it with deep suspicion, brushing their noses, cheeks or heads, their toys, the kitchen cupboards.

Despite normally doing new things at their own pace, yesterday all three did something new with their toothbrushes. After bathtime, we had ten minutes to kill so I lay down with them to mess about for a bit, lifting each onto my chest in turn to play three little monkeys boucncing on the bed. Only they didn’t want to play my game. Instead each of them tried to brush my teeth. Evie did hers for moment, then mine, then hers again. Scarlett brushed not only my teeth but my nose as well and Jem mostly just whacked my with the brush but I got the idea.

It was amazing; the first time they’ve initiated any make believe type of game. Before they’ve always been mostly passive when we play together. For them to not only start a game but to play make believe for the first time is the start of a whole new series of experiences.