Saturday, July 5, 2025 – Day 326

Saturday, July 5, 2025

Good morning!

It’s the morning after a full night of fireworks 🧨… mostly what I’d call flash-bangs. No oohs and aahs…just loud explosions deep into the night. I love a good fireworks show, but I don’t get the thrill of making loud noises on repeat while the rest of the neighborhood is trying to sleep. My fantasy payback? Track down where these guys live and launch my own barrage of noisemakers. That would teach them… well, probably not. I’m just glad I never did this kind of thing when I was younger. 😉

Speaking of younger…this brings to mind a story from when us triplets were little. I mean really little. Probably around two years old. The three of us always shared a bedroom, all the way through high school. No privacy, ever. But that was just how it worked. There is only so many rooms for eight kids.

Honestly, none of us kids had much privacy…except maybe Lis. She had her own room on the main floor, although it was right next to the stairs that led to the dark and terrifying basement, where all the childhood monsters lived. Give those monsters a chance, and they’d—gulp—take you out.

Anyway, back to the triplet days. It didn’t take much for us to get into trouble. Just one of us needed a “brilliant” idea, and the other two would follow right along. Even though we were each in our own crib, we must’ve had some kind of secret code…like monkey see, monkey do.

One of our favorite nighttime pranks? Stripping off our cloth diapers and launching them at each other across the room. These were the days of heavy, well-used diapers… so let’s just say they had some weight to them. If you got a good grip and a solid toss, you could score a direct hit. While I don’t actually remember these late-night diaper battles, I do remember Mom (Sally) sulking into our bedroom and I can see her standing in the doorway, surveying the scene, with a bucket of water and rubber gloves, bracing herself for a very unpleasant experience.

What amazes me is that I don’t recall any corporal punishment for this behavior. It must have taken every ounce of patience for her to walk in and not scream at the top of her lungs. I’m not sure when we outgrew that particular phase, but I’m sure we moved on to something equally diabolical. Maybe our punishment came from the occasional jab of a diaper pin. If so, I wouldn’t blame Mom one bit. She deserved sainthood for surviving us. Tom was mostly innocent…except for the time he drove the Mustang through the garage door.

So when I married a twin, I figured karma might be coming for me. But Kim ended up having two single births…and we hit the jackpot. We raised two of the best kids anyone could hope for. Sure, they tested our patience now and then (as all kids do), but they were angels compared to triplets. Whew.

Now those two kids are full-fledged adults, and I couldn’t be prouder. They did well in school, chose good friends, built successful careers, found loving partners, and gave me two of the cutest, funniest, and smartest grandkids on the planet (and yes, I’m being totally objective here). I get photos regularly showing how much joy and laughter they bring to the world. I couldn’t be more blessed in the kiddo and grandkiddo department.

So when ALS throws tough days my way, I try to focus on what really matters: the people around me. The love, the support, the shared stories. I’ve truly been blessed.

Have a great Saturday.
Love you guys! ❤️