I am writing while watching Alvin and the Chipmunks with the kids for the 20th time. Literally, it is probably the 20th time we have watched this movie. The chuckleheads suffer from serious Alvin mania. The DVDs, the old cartoons, the CDs, etc. They demand cheeseballs for a snack because Alvin loves them. Some days they only respond to Chipmunk names, and they frequently quote the movies, at strangely appropriate times. One may think I am exagerating when I tell you have seen "The Squeakquel" 45 times, and I am prone to exageration, but in this instance I am being quite literal. Which leads me to my point. My children take everything I say quite literally, so I must be careful of the colloquial language and cliches.
The other day, I was in a hurry to get to a Dr appt with all three kids, when I noticed the boys' carseats were sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. My husband had taken them out when we went in different directions with the kids a few days before and moved them from his car to the kitchen, never making it back into the truck.
damnit, damnit. I know, as a mom of three I should know how to install carseats, but it is always something my hubby has done and now I was in panic mode. I was pretty sure my gas light was on, because it is always on when I am in a hurry so I did not have time to fool with the carseats. I was pissed.
"I am going to kill your father". I muttered. A heard me.
"NOOOOOOOOOO", he screamed, "don't make him dead!"
Oops. I had some back peddling to do.
I didn't even know my four year old had any concept of death....must be careful, must be careful.
A few days before that, B came running up to me crying. It wasn't an " I'm hurt" cry, it was an "I'm about to tattle on a sibling" cry. All the different cries are very distinct. After a moment of sobbing and incoherent "mamas" I said "take a deep breath, calm down, what happened?"
"Mama, mama, mama"
"B, what is the problem? Spit it out..."
He looked at me strangely, made a spitting noise, and said, quite seriously, "there isn't anything in my mouth".
And of course, any time I say "that stinks" in response to something shitty that happened, they ask..."who pooped?"
And I have to admit, I say "OK, Jose" and "Ready Freddie" to them all the time just to see their heads spin while they scream "I am not Freddie", etc.
I'd love it if you shared some funny reactions your kids have had to things you've said. I'm sure there are like, hundreds of them. Literally...
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
A really rotten, truly terrible day
Yesterday was a rough one, friends. I will tell you all about it and shamelessly ask for your sympathy, because I love attention of any sort.
It started out nicely enough. Dropped the kids at Mom's Morning Out at church, had a cup of tea with an awesome friend. We discussed a lot of things, including haluicination-inducing tea and how happy I have been that my kids have been relatively healthy this year (so far).
I had a follow up appointment with a doctor for a surgery I had two weeks ago..and then headed back to pick up the chuckle-heads.
They had not had a good day at "school". A had two time outs, and B had three. Not cool. My boys know better than this, but are going through a stage where they think it is hilarious to misbehave. And they totally encourage and feed off each other. Little terds.
But more concerning was C. She had fallen off a slide on the playground and taken the brunt with her hand. I didn't see any swelling, but mommy alarms went off anyway. I know my baby girl. She is tough. She has to be with two slightly older brothers. And she is independant. So when she did not want to climb in the truck, then her carseat by herself, I knew she was hurting. And when she didn't want to buckle her own seatbelt and whimpered when I moved her arm to adjust the strap, I called our pediatrician. I love our pediatrician. And her entire staff. There is nothing more reassuring and important as a mom as having a pediatrician you really trust. Especially if you can call her on her cell phone! I have called on Saturday mornings, at 2 am in the middle of the week, and, just like this time , when the office is closed for lunch and I can't wait an hour for it to open. Hmmm, she very well might change her number one day and not tell me.
I took the twin terds ( they earned that name for the entire day yesterday with their behavior at school) to a friend's house so I could actually focus on C while at the doctor. Have you ever taken three preschoolers to the doctor? I hope you haven't, and hope you never have to. It is madness. anyway
As I was sitting in the parking lot of the peds office, I noticed a stinging feeling in my abdomen. I looked down to see that while hoisting my kids around, I had somehow torn off some of the derma-glue over my surgical sight and the incision is beginning to SPLIT OPEN. Nothing too horrifying, no organs protruding, but definite splittage. Shit! And C's appointment is in 13 minutes as soon as the peds office reopens from lunch. double shit!
Thankfully, my general practitioner's office is in the same center. I ran in with C, explained the situation, and was back out with brand new steri-strips and a giant bandage in 12 minutes. Tell me that is not an awesome doctor!
Then we went over to the pediatrician's office, where she was promptly cooed over and examined.
From the pediatrician's office to the children's hospital for x-rays.On the way, I picked up the twins, hence rescuing my friend, and met my husband half way to the hospital to relegate him custody of the boys so he could take them home.
She wimpered only a little during the x-rays. Both tiny bones in her tiny arm are broken just above the wrist. My poor, poor little monkey. But she was so strong. Stronger than her mommy, that's for sure. She answered questions for the doctors and sat still and brave while they put a temporary cast from her fingers to her shoulder. The entire time my mind was whirring....how uncomfortable will she be? How will this affect her development?( she is right handed and has broken her right arm.) How will she run, play and enjoy her life the next few weeks or months? What the hell am I going to dress this child in that will fit over a cast? As previously reported, she has a lot of lovely clothes, but not many with the ability to morph and expand over a cast 4 times the size of her baby arm. I know I am not the first mom to have a baby with a broken arm, but it was still heart wrenching and pitiful.
But there are bright spots of yesterday. It was reaffirmed that we have excellent doctors seeing to the well-being of our family. I am blessed to have friends and a husband that are so helpful and present while I am having a mini crisis. And most importantly, I got some one on one time with my daughter.
One on one time is very limited when you have three little children. As a whole, they entertain and frustrate me daily, but I don't often get to really admire them as individuals. Sure, I appreciate them for their different personalities and strengths and talents, but it is rare that I am alone with one for any extended period of time.
What I got to experience yesterday is that my daughter is truly delightful, even with a broken arm. She charmed the doctors and nurses. She counted and recited her ABC's in the hospital room. She made me laugh even though I wanted to cry for her. She is an awesome little individual.
As we left the hospital, she sang loudly as we walked down the halls. She bopped her head with her arm resting in a sling at her side and sang nonsense words when she was unsure of the real ones and smiled at people who marvelled at her cuteness. One gentleman said "that is the happiest kid with a broken arm I have ever seen." And I laughed, because she probably was.
She was also her brothers' hero when we arrived home. She had a cast, a sling and the highly coveted hospital bracelet. And the twins lost their terd status because they helped her carry her juice, her snack, her toys etc since she is temporarily one handed. They are pretty awesome little individuals, too.
It started out nicely enough. Dropped the kids at Mom's Morning Out at church, had a cup of tea with an awesome friend. We discussed a lot of things, including haluicination-inducing tea and how happy I have been that my kids have been relatively healthy this year (so far).
I had a follow up appointment with a doctor for a surgery I had two weeks ago..and then headed back to pick up the chuckle-heads.
They had not had a good day at "school". A had two time outs, and B had three. Not cool. My boys know better than this, but are going through a stage where they think it is hilarious to misbehave. And they totally encourage and feed off each other. Little terds.
But more concerning was C. She had fallen off a slide on the playground and taken the brunt with her hand. I didn't see any swelling, but mommy alarms went off anyway. I know my baby girl. She is tough. She has to be with two slightly older brothers. And she is independant. So when she did not want to climb in the truck, then her carseat by herself, I knew she was hurting. And when she didn't want to buckle her own seatbelt and whimpered when I moved her arm to adjust the strap, I called our pediatrician. I love our pediatrician. And her entire staff. There is nothing more reassuring and important as a mom as having a pediatrician you really trust. Especially if you can call her on her cell phone! I have called on Saturday mornings, at 2 am in the middle of the week, and, just like this time , when the office is closed for lunch and I can't wait an hour for it to open. Hmmm, she very well might change her number one day and not tell me.
I took the twin terds ( they earned that name for the entire day yesterday with their behavior at school) to a friend's house so I could actually focus on C while at the doctor. Have you ever taken three preschoolers to the doctor? I hope you haven't, and hope you never have to. It is madness. anyway
As I was sitting in the parking lot of the peds office, I noticed a stinging feeling in my abdomen. I looked down to see that while hoisting my kids around, I had somehow torn off some of the derma-glue over my surgical sight and the incision is beginning to SPLIT OPEN. Nothing too horrifying, no organs protruding, but definite splittage. Shit! And C's appointment is in 13 minutes as soon as the peds office reopens from lunch. double shit!
Thankfully, my general practitioner's office is in the same center. I ran in with C, explained the situation, and was back out with brand new steri-strips and a giant bandage in 12 minutes. Tell me that is not an awesome doctor!
Then we went over to the pediatrician's office, where she was promptly cooed over and examined.
From the pediatrician's office to the children's hospital for x-rays.On the way, I picked up the twins, hence rescuing my friend, and met my husband half way to the hospital to relegate him custody of the boys so he could take them home.
She wimpered only a little during the x-rays. Both tiny bones in her tiny arm are broken just above the wrist. My poor, poor little monkey. But she was so strong. Stronger than her mommy, that's for sure. She answered questions for the doctors and sat still and brave while they put a temporary cast from her fingers to her shoulder. The entire time my mind was whirring....how uncomfortable will she be? How will this affect her development?( she is right handed and has broken her right arm.) How will she run, play and enjoy her life the next few weeks or months? What the hell am I going to dress this child in that will fit over a cast? As previously reported, she has a lot of lovely clothes, but not many with the ability to morph and expand over a cast 4 times the size of her baby arm. I know I am not the first mom to have a baby with a broken arm, but it was still heart wrenching and pitiful.
But there are bright spots of yesterday. It was reaffirmed that we have excellent doctors seeing to the well-being of our family. I am blessed to have friends and a husband that are so helpful and present while I am having a mini crisis. And most importantly, I got some one on one time with my daughter.
One on one time is very limited when you have three little children. As a whole, they entertain and frustrate me daily, but I don't often get to really admire them as individuals. Sure, I appreciate them for their different personalities and strengths and talents, but it is rare that I am alone with one for any extended period of time.
What I got to experience yesterday is that my daughter is truly delightful, even with a broken arm. She charmed the doctors and nurses. She counted and recited her ABC's in the hospital room. She made me laugh even though I wanted to cry for her. She is an awesome little individual.
As we left the hospital, she sang loudly as we walked down the halls. She bopped her head with her arm resting in a sling at her side and sang nonsense words when she was unsure of the real ones and smiled at people who marvelled at her cuteness. One gentleman said "that is the happiest kid with a broken arm I have ever seen." And I laughed, because she probably was.
She was also her brothers' hero when we arrived home. She had a cast, a sling and the highly coveted hospital bracelet. And the twins lost their terd status because they helped her carry her juice, her snack, her toys etc since she is temporarily one handed. They are pretty awesome little individuals, too.
Monday, January 9, 2012
another reason my hubby needs his a## kicked
this is really just a mini-post.
My boys (and girl) have used the word "fart" since they were 2. I hate this word, but it is what it is.
They used to yell across crowded rooms to me..."mommy, I fawted". No, I did not misspell it, that is how they sounded.
A just farted, and started cracking up. Before I could say anything, he yelled "excuse my butt".
Fantastic. Will be having a talk with the hubby when he gets home. Not that it will do any good.
My boys (and girl) have used the word "fart" since they were 2. I hate this word, but it is what it is.
They used to yell across crowded rooms to me..."mommy, I fawted". No, I did not misspell it, that is how they sounded.
A just farted, and started cracking up. Before I could say anything, he yelled "excuse my butt".
Fantastic. Will be having a talk with the hubby when he gets home. Not that it will do any good.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Barnes and Noble (and that damn Thomas the Train Table)
I love Barnes and Noble. Before having the psuedo-triplets, it was somewhat of an oasis for me. I love books, love reading and love coffee.
Need new reading material? Head to B&N.
Bored on a rainy weekend afternoon? Head to B&N.
Fight with the hubby? Chill out at B&N for a little while.
It's completely different with three chuckle-heads. I still get my coffee, but we also must purchase chocolate milk and sugar cookies from the Starbucks cafe. Then there is story time..no way can all three sit still through an entire story and a craft. And have you ever tried to do three crafts at the same time? While you are helping one color, another is glueing his fingers together, and yet another is terrifying other children with the safety scissors.
And then it's off to the train table. My kids, especially the boys, love the train table. Many times I have pushed a stroller full of three children screaming out of Barnes and Noble because we only got to play at the table for an hour.
This love for the Thomas table led the hubby and me to a great idea...for their 3rd birthday, we decided to buy the twins their very own Thomas Table! It is awesome. It has bridges and caves and a helipad. The lights flash, parts of the track rattle and whistle when you chug over them. The kids loved it. For a couple of months. Now it mostly serves as a table for discarded sippy cups. Every now and then there is a renewed interest in it, but it just does not hold the same appeal as that damn Thomas table at B&N! Why would they want to play with a tricked out train table in their own home when they can play with a germ covered, filthy one with six other kids and argue with strangers over who gets Percy and who gets Thomas? And they still complain when it's time to go.
That is, if we make it there at all. Not long ago we were waiting to meet friends for story time. It was a beautiful day and we were meeting outside the store. There are beautiful koi ponds, and turtle ponds with little bridges and small waterfalls. I'm still not quite sure how it happened, but one minute A was right next to me, and then all of a sudden he was in the Koi pond. Yep, he fell in the freakin koi pond. My poor little guy.Thankfully it was only about chest deep and I yanked him right out, but it was somewhat traumatic for him. So we loaded up and headed home. A crying because he was wet and afraid the giant fish would have eaten him had I not pulled him out, and the other two crying because they didn't get to play with that damn Thomas Table.
Need new reading material? Head to B&N.
Bored on a rainy weekend afternoon? Head to B&N.
Fight with the hubby? Chill out at B&N for a little while.
It's completely different with three chuckle-heads. I still get my coffee, but we also must purchase chocolate milk and sugar cookies from the Starbucks cafe. Then there is story time..no way can all three sit still through an entire story and a craft. And have you ever tried to do three crafts at the same time? While you are helping one color, another is glueing his fingers together, and yet another is terrifying other children with the safety scissors.
And then it's off to the train table. My kids, especially the boys, love the train table. Many times I have pushed a stroller full of three children screaming out of Barnes and Noble because we only got to play at the table for an hour.
This love for the Thomas table led the hubby and me to a great idea...for their 3rd birthday, we decided to buy the twins their very own Thomas Table! It is awesome. It has bridges and caves and a helipad. The lights flash, parts of the track rattle and whistle when you chug over them. The kids loved it. For a couple of months. Now it mostly serves as a table for discarded sippy cups. Every now and then there is a renewed interest in it, but it just does not hold the same appeal as that damn Thomas table at B&N! Why would they want to play with a tricked out train table in their own home when they can play with a germ covered, filthy one with six other kids and argue with strangers over who gets Percy and who gets Thomas? And they still complain when it's time to go.
That is, if we make it there at all. Not long ago we were waiting to meet friends for story time. It was a beautiful day and we were meeting outside the store. There are beautiful koi ponds, and turtle ponds with little bridges and small waterfalls. I'm still not quite sure how it happened, but one minute A was right next to me, and then all of a sudden he was in the Koi pond. Yep, he fell in the freakin koi pond. My poor little guy.Thankfully it was only about chest deep and I yanked him right out, but it was somewhat traumatic for him. So we loaded up and headed home. A crying because he was wet and afraid the giant fish would have eaten him had I not pulled him out, and the other two crying because they didn't get to play with that damn Thomas Table.
Friday, January 6, 2012
getting dressed
My attitude toward fashion and grooming has changed considerably since I became a mommy. I used to love shopping. I bought new clothes almost every weekend. I came back to work from lunch break wearing new shoes. Every night I would plan what I would wear the next day. And I wore heels EVERY day. With dresses, jeans, whatever.
Then I got pregnant, Ugh. I barely felt like getting out of bed, much less getting dressed, drying my hair, applying make up. 8 weeks of hospital bedrest did not do much to help this. I literally changed from one nightgown to another.
But when the kids came this would change, right? Ummmmm, no. One cannot balance 2 babies, a heart monitor and portable oxygen with heels on. One cannot push a double, then a triple, stroller with heels on.
I became a yoga pants wearing beotch. Because they are comfortable and easy and washable. With either tennis shoes or flip flops, depending on the weather.
My children, mind you, are much better dressed than I. They have adorable shoes, adorable clothes, adorable hair bows...
If there is somewhere we are going, I plan out their cute little outfits the night before. Then just before we leave, I look down and still have pajamas on. Shit! I haven't even thought about what I should wear to my husband's company picnic. But the kids look cute!
My cousin has a whole mess of kids too, including twins. She once arrived at church in her house shoes. But her kids looked cute!
Why are my kids better dressed than I? It's quite foolish really. When they were really little they just puked or shat all over the clothes. Now they make huge messes, with markers, food, toilet water, biochemical hazardous materials, etc and their clothing is ruined in the process. Or the little stinkers grow an inch overnight and can no longer fit into the crocheted, smocked, monogrammed, appliqued t-shirt, dress, romper, etc that I just HAD to have. They don't care. If it were up to them they would be covered in Dora and Lightening McQueen rollback specials from Wal-Mart.
But they are so cute. So even though it is irrational, and I know better, I will still be drawn to really unnecessary cute clothes for my kids. And I'll be rockin the yoga pants. But my kids will look cute!
Then I got pregnant, Ugh. I barely felt like getting out of bed, much less getting dressed, drying my hair, applying make up. 8 weeks of hospital bedrest did not do much to help this. I literally changed from one nightgown to another.
But when the kids came this would change, right? Ummmmm, no. One cannot balance 2 babies, a heart monitor and portable oxygen with heels on. One cannot push a double, then a triple, stroller with heels on.
I became a yoga pants wearing beotch. Because they are comfortable and easy and washable. With either tennis shoes or flip flops, depending on the weather.
My children, mind you, are much better dressed than I. They have adorable shoes, adorable clothes, adorable hair bows...
If there is somewhere we are going, I plan out their cute little outfits the night before. Then just before we leave, I look down and still have pajamas on. Shit! I haven't even thought about what I should wear to my husband's company picnic. But the kids look cute!
My cousin has a whole mess of kids too, including twins. She once arrived at church in her house shoes. But her kids looked cute!
Why are my kids better dressed than I? It's quite foolish really. When they were really little they just puked or shat all over the clothes. Now they make huge messes, with markers, food, toilet water, biochemical hazardous materials, etc and their clothing is ruined in the process. Or the little stinkers grow an inch overnight and can no longer fit into the crocheted, smocked, monogrammed, appliqued t-shirt, dress, romper, etc that I just HAD to have. They don't care. If it were up to them they would be covered in Dora and Lightening McQueen rollback specials from Wal-Mart.
But they are so cute. So even though it is irrational, and I know better, I will still be drawn to really unnecessary cute clothes for my kids. And I'll be rockin the yoga pants. But my kids will look cute!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
marking their territory
Preschool boys are funny about peeing. At least mine are. They have no inhibitions. It's a free for all. I know that this is my fault. And my husband's.
Here is how it happened. Picture one parent, two 3 year olds and a two year old in the pool, in the back yard. One twin has to pee. He cannot open the sliding door. I cannot leave 2 very young children in the pool to escort another to the bathroom. I am not about to wrap three children in towels to stand in the air conditioned house dripping water all over for 2 minutes and head back out again. Hence, I say " Go pee in the grass."
Classy? Not at all. Practical? Yes.
I'm sure there is a better way to go about this, bring a baby potty ouside, build an outhouse...something. But this is really the easy and efficient way to deal with the situation since there are three of them and someone always has to pee.
It became kindof a game at our house.
"Pee on the rocks."
"Pee on the hydrangeas."
"Pee on the palm tree."
I have little men marking their territory all over.
Here is the problem....those boys will drop drop drawers anywhere. This summer we all went to visit my in-laws. We see my husbands extended family once a year. There were aunts, uncles, cousins, great aunts and uncles and grandparents. My kids were playing in the sprinkler and on the slip and slide..having a ball as the family watched, chatted, snacked, etc.
I hear roars of laughter and turn to see A and B watering a tree trunk in the middle of the yard. Awesome.
Other fun places we have peed:
my parent's backyard
my friend's backyard
my kids' friend's back yard
(you really want to be friends with us, dontcha?)
various parking lots
I am working on breaking this inappropriate habit. I really am.
But in the meantime, watch where you step...
Here is how it happened. Picture one parent, two 3 year olds and a two year old in the pool, in the back yard. One twin has to pee. He cannot open the sliding door. I cannot leave 2 very young children in the pool to escort another to the bathroom. I am not about to wrap three children in towels to stand in the air conditioned house dripping water all over for 2 minutes and head back out again. Hence, I say " Go pee in the grass."
Classy? Not at all. Practical? Yes.
I'm sure there is a better way to go about this, bring a baby potty ouside, build an outhouse...something. But this is really the easy and efficient way to deal with the situation since there are three of them and someone always has to pee.
It became kindof a game at our house.
"Pee on the rocks."
"Pee on the hydrangeas."
"Pee on the palm tree."
I have little men marking their territory all over.
Here is the problem....those boys will drop drop drawers anywhere. This summer we all went to visit my in-laws. We see my husbands extended family once a year. There were aunts, uncles, cousins, great aunts and uncles and grandparents. My kids were playing in the sprinkler and on the slip and slide..having a ball as the family watched, chatted, snacked, etc.
I hear roars of laughter and turn to see A and B watering a tree trunk in the middle of the yard. Awesome.
Other fun places we have peed:
my parent's backyard
my friend's backyard
my kids' friend's back yard
(you really want to be friends with us, dontcha?)
various parking lots
I am working on breaking this inappropriate habit. I really am.
But in the meantime, watch where you step...
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
back in time...
I'm going to take you back a little bit here..and tell you the story of when I found out I was preggers with C.
It was late July. The twins were approximately 10 months old. I was a tired mess surviving on adrenalyn and caffeine. The last year had been pretty awful, with a terrible pregnancy and preemie babies and a long time in the NICU. We came home with a heart monitor and an oxygen tank and 2 very tiny two month olds. But at the same time it had been wonderful for the same reasons. We had 2 little miracles and they were thriving. They weren't sleeping, and it took them the better part of an hour to drink 3 ounces of formula, but they were thriving. And they were damn cute little things, too.
Anyway, after months of waking up 5 times a night, handwashing tons of bottles and changing millions of tiny diapers, I was starting to feel like things were relatively under control. Note the word "relatively". It was still pretty chaotic, but it was doable. We were off of preemie house arrest, and had ventured to the mall a few times and even a few restaraunts.
The babies were in tiny covered floats in the pool with their dad when I walked into the backyard to marvel at their preciousness and take pictures.
At this point my hubby pointed out that I looked a little different, kindof like I had WHEN I WAS PREGNANT. ha ha. very funny. But the seed was planted.( Literally) Within a few hours a full on panic attack was rearing it's head. As we got in the car to take the kids to Cracker Barrel (it's family friendly and serves pancakes) I mentioned to my husband that I needed to stop at the drugstore and pick up a prescription for one of the boys.
He waited in the car with the kids while I ran in. Said prescription was not quite ready, so I had a few minutes to kill. As I browsed the aisles, I saw the pregnancy tests. I couldn't resist. Even as I thought to myself "this is the biggest waste of $16 ever", I knew that my stomach would not settle and my heart rate would not lower until I took this test. I think I paid for it but am not completely sure. And then I was in the CVS bathroom, and that pink line was obvious, immediately. The bathroom was spinning. Really spinning. It wasn't that I was opposed to another baby. It's that I was shocked. Really and truly shocked. The idea of having another baby had never really crossed my mind. I had already been blessed with two against the odds, and this was completetly out of left field. And I was completely consumed b being a mommy of young twins. I stumbled out of the store to the waiting truck, mouth hanging open and sans the prescription I had gone in after. I didn't say a word, just held up the stick for my husband to see.
He uttered an expletive. Again, in no way is this a reflection on the feelings of having another baby..he was just as shocked as I was. Even though we had joked about it, we didn't really think it was a possibility.
Over the next few months as we told friends and family I was expecting again people congratulated us, asked us if we were crazy, asked if we knew "how that happened",and asked us how the hell we found time.
And let me tell ya, changing poop diapers while fighting morning sickness is awful. I am afraid I may have actually vomited on the twins a little.
You can imagine the looks I got, pushing a double stroller around with a pregnant belly.
Soon the shock became true excitement. I figured, hell, if I'm gonna have kids, I might as well go all out.
Then, the following April, we had the most beautiful little girl ever born. And she was almost instantly a good eater and sleeper. (Thank You God!, because the twins didn't sleep through the night until FIFTEEN MONTHS old!) And life is grand, and busy. C is so bossy and adorable and smart, and everywhere I go people assume I have triplets.
The triplets and I are about to go to Wal-Mart and terrorize some other shoppers.
It was late July. The twins were approximately 10 months old. I was a tired mess surviving on adrenalyn and caffeine. The last year had been pretty awful, with a terrible pregnancy and preemie babies and a long time in the NICU. We came home with a heart monitor and an oxygen tank and 2 very tiny two month olds. But at the same time it had been wonderful for the same reasons. We had 2 little miracles and they were thriving. They weren't sleeping, and it took them the better part of an hour to drink 3 ounces of formula, but they were thriving. And they were damn cute little things, too.
Anyway, after months of waking up 5 times a night, handwashing tons of bottles and changing millions of tiny diapers, I was starting to feel like things were relatively under control. Note the word "relatively". It was still pretty chaotic, but it was doable. We were off of preemie house arrest, and had ventured to the mall a few times and even a few restaraunts.
The babies were in tiny covered floats in the pool with their dad when I walked into the backyard to marvel at their preciousness and take pictures.
At this point my hubby pointed out that I looked a little different, kindof like I had WHEN I WAS PREGNANT. ha ha. very funny. But the seed was planted.( Literally) Within a few hours a full on panic attack was rearing it's head. As we got in the car to take the kids to Cracker Barrel (it's family friendly and serves pancakes) I mentioned to my husband that I needed to stop at the drugstore and pick up a prescription for one of the boys.
He waited in the car with the kids while I ran in. Said prescription was not quite ready, so I had a few minutes to kill. As I browsed the aisles, I saw the pregnancy tests. I couldn't resist. Even as I thought to myself "this is the biggest waste of $16 ever", I knew that my stomach would not settle and my heart rate would not lower until I took this test. I think I paid for it but am not completely sure. And then I was in the CVS bathroom, and that pink line was obvious, immediately. The bathroom was spinning. Really spinning. It wasn't that I was opposed to another baby. It's that I was shocked. Really and truly shocked. The idea of having another baby had never really crossed my mind. I had already been blessed with two against the odds, and this was completetly out of left field. And I was completely consumed b being a mommy of young twins. I stumbled out of the store to the waiting truck, mouth hanging open and sans the prescription I had gone in after. I didn't say a word, just held up the stick for my husband to see.
He uttered an expletive. Again, in no way is this a reflection on the feelings of having another baby..he was just as shocked as I was. Even though we had joked about it, we didn't really think it was a possibility.
Over the next few months as we told friends and family I was expecting again people congratulated us, asked us if we were crazy, asked if we knew "how that happened",and asked us how the hell we found time.
And let me tell ya, changing poop diapers while fighting morning sickness is awful. I am afraid I may have actually vomited on the twins a little.
You can imagine the looks I got, pushing a double stroller around with a pregnant belly.
Soon the shock became true excitement. I figured, hell, if I'm gonna have kids, I might as well go all out.
Then, the following April, we had the most beautiful little girl ever born. And she was almost instantly a good eater and sleeper. (Thank You God!, because the twins didn't sleep through the night until FIFTEEN MONTHS old!) And life is grand, and busy. C is so bossy and adorable and smart, and everywhere I go people assume I have triplets.
The triplets and I are about to go to Wal-Mart and terrorize some other shoppers.
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