Deborah Halverson's Blog

It was bound to happen. At some point, on some day, over some thing, my sons would let fly with their first four-letter word. The thing is, I didn’t expect that four-letter world to be ‘head.’

‘Head’ is now illegal in my house. I declared it so after trying uselessly to ban the words my three four-year-olds were building with it: pudahead, tootiehead, boodateendeehead… I know, the names aren’t offensive and could even be funny, if you didn’t have to live with them the way I have the past few weeks. Read More…

I never used to worry that my three four-year-old sons would be eaten by cows. Apparently, I was living in denial, for those cows in the marshes up the road from us were just biding their time….

On the night before we started our journey back to San Diego from Lowestoft, England, my husband went out to the Dolly’s Dumplings Cache in Carlton Marshes Read More…

Four-year-olds think they’re pretty clever. Sneaking into the refrigerator, snatching something tasty-looking, cruising past Mommy with hands behind back, ducking under the table and covertly eyeing Mommy as little hands slooooowly move mouthward and CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP….

But four-year-olds aren’t half as clever as they think.

Yesterday I witnessed this scenario first hand. My middle son, our fraternal angel with his heart of gold, has a habit of eating other people’s unattended food. Read More…

How does it feel to be reading the blog of a presumed criminal? You are, you know, it says so here in this letter I’m holding, which I received from “The Enforcement Division” of a mysterious body called “TV Licensing.” A British government body? A private company? I don’t know, the letter doesn’t tell me that. It just tells me that the “TV Licensing Enforcement Division is proceeding with a full investigation” of my home. Why? “Because there is no record of a TV license at this property.” Gasp! No TV license for the Halverson house? The horror!!!!

We don’t own a TV.

The TV Licensing Enforcement Division. It sounds like something out of Fahrenheit 451, which Read More…

Friends, Family, Loyal Blog Readers—We gather here today to remember a dear friend, a key player in our family, a presence we never truly thought would leave us but who has, alas, officially departed:

Diaper.

Diaper had not an easy row to hoe in his time with us. He was much maligned, underappreciated as only an object responsible for catching and carrying the fecal matter of three voracious and madly sprouting human beings could be. Read More…

There are few things more knee-buckling to a mother of three-year-old triplets than suddenly realizing that all three of her beloved offspring are in “one of their moods” at the same time. I felt my knees go weak about 6 a.m. this morning.

The instant I woke up, I was greeted by the “Clingy Whiner,” “Mr. Defiant,” and “The Hyper Tackler.” Knowing I’d have better chances at a passable morning if I got the boys out of the house and into an adventure, I strategized a morning that would get us fed, dressed, and out the door in perfect time to could catch the 9:27 bus at the corner. Read More…

Three-year-olds are impressionable. That’s one of the reasons we don’t watch TV or movies in this house. Only, it turns out my boys don’t need TV or movies to pick up things—all they need is a window.

My neighbor across the street, Ramone, leaves for work when the boys eat breakfast. The boys watch him through the window as he drives off, a baseball hat on his head, while they spoon their oatmeal. Ramone wears that hat every day, and its direction each morning determines the direction of my firstborn son’s hat that day. Read More…

“How many can YOU eat?” In the spirit of the Fourth of July, the Nathan’s Famous Fourth of July Hot Dog Eating Championship, and the publishing of my teen novel BIG MOUTH, I’m launching a website dedicated to BIG MOUTH and the quirkiest All-American food ever: hot dogs.

www.BigMouthTheBook.com has excerpts from the book, fun facts about competitive eating, hot dogs, ketchup, etc., and a store that ties into the theme of the book. I had a great time researching the food facts and strange eating habits of this country for the website. I hope what I’ve found will put a smile on people’s faces. Some of the stuff really made me laugh. A museum dedicated solely to mustard? A 170-foot tall ketchup bottle? Read More…

Feel like you’re racing around but getting nowhere? Zig-zagging from one task to another? Multitasking until you feel like you have six hands and no focus? Well, multitask no more! Call Halverson Multi(ples)tasking instead, where six hands really will do the work for you. Need your overgrown lawn cut? Call HMT. Read More…

What is it about kids and tiny spaces? My three three-year-olds can have an entire downstairs, an entire yard, an entire playground to play in, but they all clump into the tiniest corner within inches of each other. Is it a triplet thing? Is it because that’s how they existed in my belly, all scrunched up together, elbowing for space? (Or kicking, for that matter—we actually watched on a sonogram screen as one of our identical babies repeatedly kicked the other in the head, presumably shouting into the primordial goo, “Move over! Stop touching me! Move over!”) This sono shot shows all three of their heads, ear to ear. Yes, I suppose that would set the stage for a life of clumping.* Read More…

Imagine, if you will, the faces of the passengers on our plane to England when we stroll on board with three three-year-old boys. I’ve been thinking a lot about that . . . and laughing. Do I have a cruel streak? Perhaps. Read More…

I recently met my new Delacorte/Random House publicist. She’s coming on board just as the promotional planning for BIG MOUTH is kicking in, and I was excited to propose some ideas to her. Because those ideas were only in their abstract infancy, I knew I had to be articulate and clear if she was to know what the heck I was talking about. I needed her input to develop them further. Because Random House is in New York and I’m in San Diego, I’d arranged to meet her over the phone in a conference call with my previous publicist. I’d also arranged for Grandma S. to babysit the boys during the call. I had all my bases covered. This work/motherhood juggle, it’s a piece of cake. Or so I thought. Read More…

Two months ago, my trio had a group epiphany: They realized what it means to be three years old, they realized what it means to be boys, and they realized what it means to have a wrestling partner within an arm’s reach at any given moment. All of which means that I have realized what it means to be a wrestling referee . . . to contestants who don’t care about rules. Imagine the WWE’s Undertaker and Rey Mysterio, upon hearing the referee’s whistle, pausing their head locks just long enough to laugh in the ref’s face, cast her over the ropes, then resuming their human pretzel maneuvers. By the end of each day, I feel like I’m the one who has been pretzled. Read More…

OsteoNOsis (os-tee-o-NO-sis): n. The sudden and instantaneous vanishing of the skeletal structure, usually striking humans between the ages of one and five while a parental figure is attempting to dress the victim or move him/her from one location to another.

Loosely translated as “having no bones” or “going boneless,” Read More…

Many presidents have found that the metaphorical fall from the presidency to the potty is a short one. Maybe that’s why the toilet is also known as “the throne”? My three future presidents, who are now happily playing cars in the living room with underpants on their heads, are no exception to the presidential potty slide. Read More…