Sometimes I wish the words "Triplet Mom" were tattooed on my forehead. At least then people would understand why I stood there with my greasy pony tailed hair, stained t-shirt (my husband's since I don't fit into my own), tattered jeans with front butt and flip flops displaying my way beyond non-manicured toenails. I mean I want to wear a medal or something that I even got out of bed this morning and instead these people just think I'm a flake or some sad fashionless idiot who has no idea how bad she looks! That's just not fair. I suffer. Greatly. Daily. And nightly. Right?
No, it's funny the dichotomy of a multiples parent when it comes to attention. I'm sure I don't speak for all of them but I'm sure I'm not the only one who has two different reactions to attention depending on how it's given. First, I hate the people who are dumb enough to say things like 'you poor thing' or 'you sure have your hands full' and far, far stupider things that you would be surprised to hear if you are not a multiples parent. I mean the very fact that having more than one baby at a time somehow gives people the right to inquire how I got pregnant in the first place makes you want to smack your forehead a little bit. I want to know why I don't get the congratulations, the 'how wonderful' that 'normal' pregnant and new moms get. (Except from the Asian community, which I love, because not only do they think it's fantastic that I have three babies, three being a magical number, but that two of them are boys, how lucky could I get?) So, obviously, this is the negative side of attention that had me wishing we were invisible when I walk my huge stroller down the street.
But then there's the other side of the coin. The side that had me strolling past Robin Williams' house daily with my triple decker stroller, when the babies were just infants, hoping he might look out the window and run across the street because he wanted to 'do a bit' on the ridiculous stroller or the realities of having multiples. That's the part of me who wants to always wear a shirt that somehow announces that I have triplets so that unaware people might make their shocked comments about how great I look (even if they do tack on 'for a lady with triplets.') It's the part of me who, at my mothers day dinner, made sure the waiter knew I had triplets, and pretty much anywhere I go finds a way to bring triplets into the conversation so I can show them a picture on my iphone. I mean, there is a little attention whore inside of me who I do not recognize!
Oh yeah, look at me, look at me!
Actually, I do recognize her. She's the one who planned my wedding and wanted everyone to know it was my wedding day and made sure that it was all about me and that beautiful dress walking down the aisle. Oh yes, I remember her. She's the one who also would love someone to take me to a Mexican restaurant, put that stupid sombrero on my head and sing me the happy birthday song just so everyone know's it's my birthday. I have to admit. I am quite familiar with this side of me. But since I've had triplets she's been more present than not, because I was only a bride-to-be for a year, only have a birthday once a year, and was only pregnant for 9 months. I am a triplet mom every stinkin' day and I want credit dammit.
Where's my crown?