Deborah Halverson's Blog

Brussels, Belgium, was city #4 on the Halverson’s sixteen-day winter vacation, which also included stays in Berlin, Germany; Munich, Germany; Krakow, Poland; and London, England.

Lest you think that we were permanently distracted from our chocolate quest by Belgian waffles, let me set you straight—we weren’t. Not by a long shot. On the way back to our hotel that first morning, our tummies still gloriously waffle-stuffed, we stopped at the first chocolatier on the block—a Godiva shop, one of many in the vicinity. After much consideration, a lengthy discussion about a new word called ‘liquer’ and its appropriateness for almost-four-year-old human bodies, the boys each picked a chocolate. Two chocolate-filled seashells and a raspberry thing. (Please don’t ask about that ‘thing’, as I prefer not to think about it too much. Buy a raspberry candy from a chocolatier? *shudder*) Oddly, I did not get any chocolate myself. Read More…

I forget my anniversary every year. So does my husband. If not for my mom and my friend Melanie sending us cards every year, we’d never know another year in our marriage had ticked by. I’d be equally forgetful about my birthday if it weren’t for the fact that it comes the day after Halloween. My husband’s birthday is a few days before Halloween. His is the one we forget.

This year, we actually DID remember his birthday—just as we, quite coincidentally, sat ourselves down in front of five plates filled with cake. Read More…

If you don’t know the name of something, call it some variation of “beebee.” That’s my sons’ philosophy, anyway. In their Triplet Speak language, the word “beebee” is the default when you don’t know what you’re looking at. Tack another word onto that, and you’re set.

Three days into our England adventure, Read More…

The vision was a frightening one—small humans melting down into crying globs of protest, little hands lashing out with pinching fingers at the ready, rubbery legs alternately flailing and sagging limp when told to stand or walk. Three three-year-old boys on a 10+ hour plane ride, with several hours of car travel on each end . . . the potential for this vision to come true was great. Read More…

Here we go, off to the airport with three three-year-olds and 5000 pounds of luggage. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?

I don’t know exactly when I’ll have internet access again, but I’ll blog about the 10+ hour flight to Heathrow airport and subsequent 2+ hour drive to Lowestoft as soon as I’m able. Not just technologically able, but physically and mentally, too. A 10+ hour trip with three three-year-olds . . . Success is an attitude, right?

Okay, this is it. Cheerio! Away we go!

The boys went hiking with Daddy recently, and about an hour into the adventure, one of the boys announced, “I have to go poopee!” In a typical example of the Power of Suggestion Among Triplets, one of his brothers immediately Read More…

While its true that my head may be spinning because I’m trying to pack a family of five’s luggage for a 1-year stay in England (which will commence in 31 hours!), it’s also entirely possible that my head is spinning because I’ve spent an extraordinary amount of time on merry-go-rounds lately.

Actually, the proper term might just be “carousels.” It’s certainly the more regal term. Regardless, my boys and I have been on, oh, say a dozen of them this summer, all around San Diego. If you come to San Diego or if you already live here, you must check out our favorites: Read More…

As much terror as my Terrifying Threes have struck in me the past few weeks, I’m feeling rather melancholy about the reality that they are graduating from toddlerhood once and for all. The truth is, they’ve been out of the toddler stage for some time now, landing pretty solidly in the “preschool” category. Yet they seem to be moving on from that, too.

First, we’ve ditched strollers completely. Our triplet jogger has gone to a family with 10 month old triplets. Truth is, pushing that stroller with my three forty-pounders Read More…

I’d much rather be running around like a chicken with my head cut off than sitting about twiddling my thumbs. Which may explain today.

I’ve spent the last three days staying up until 2 a.m. to pack suitcases and to scrub my house from top to bottom in preparation for the British family scheduled to arrive today. This, after hosting my high school friend’s family in my spare room for four days, with my husband out of town at an orientation for our upcoming trip. I’m sure it would’ve been safe and smart and sane to turn today into a “down day” for me and the boys after all that. That is what I’d penciled into my weekly planner. But Read More…

So I’m looking at our luggage and wondering . . . is there any way three tricycles will fit into a carry-on? There must be, because I can’t imagine how we’ll live without our trikes for a whole year. That’d be like, well, like living a whole year without our trucks. Ack! I know we can’t live for a whole year without our trucks!

So now I’m looking at our luggage and wondering Read More…

Grandma S’s application for a one-year visitor visa was denied by the British Consulate, so she won’t be on the plane with us when we take wing for our one-year stay in Lowestoft, England. Noooo!!!!! There goes our cherished 1-to-1 triplet/adult ratio. Read More…

… are true gold.

Thank goodness for cameras. Without them, peaceful moments like these might slip away forever.

The best toy store on the planet is located just a stone’s throw from the U.S./Mexico border. The store is called ToyTown, and it has the most toy buses we’ve ever encountered. And that means a lot to parents whose three-year-old son introduces himself to people as “Bus Driver.” And ToyTown’s prices are C-H-E-A-P, a fact that also means a lot to parents who have three-year-old triplets.

Getting to ToyTown is easy—you just drive toward Mexico and lean left a few feet shy of the border, sending your car into Read More…

How lucky am I to be living my dream? Seeing my name on an actual book in a real bookstore…I can’t imagine ever getting over that thrill. And having people actually go to a bookstore because I’ll be there with a pen in my hand . . . well, it blows my mind.

My Barnes & Noble (Mira Mesa) book signing for BIG MOUTH two weeks ago turned into one big Read More…

Back when I was in college, I suggested a walk on the beach for my third date with a cute biology major. The setting sun, the surf brushing the sand, a little hand holding, some smooching perhaps… it sounded like a lovely evening. My date had other ideas.

“See this?” He lifted a dripping blob of seaweed up to my face. Read More…