Friday, July 31, 2009

Oh crap. Literally.

Dear Huggies,

I hope my recent missive regarding the severe diaper failures I was experiencing with your overnight diapers did not reach you at an overly sensitive time. It seems that since that letter all size 6 overnight diapers (of which we use 1283 a week) have disappeared from store and online store shelves all over America. Perhaps you were not able to pinpoint my location and so had to punish the masses for my sins?

In any case, I should have thought that a company of your size and stature would be able to take a little criticism by now and roll with it. I didn't even ask for any free diapers or an apology, I just wanted to vent. And I suppose I did ask you to create a size 7 line for me, but that was just a suggestion. If it meant you had to shut down production of size 6 for a time, that would not be a good trade, so please let me withdraw my request.

In the meantime, can you please, please, return size 6 overnights to the shelves somewhere in the vicinity of San Francisco? Because, while I don't like visiting every drugstore and department store in the greater Bay Area, I will in order to have my children diapered properly at night. Naturally, a 'regular' diaper will cause me multiple wake ups per night, and that is unacceptable.

Whatever your terms, public apology, televised, youtubed, whatever, I'm pretty willing to comply with. And I can certainly promise never to complain about your product again (until my children are out of diapers which is a long bleeding time) if it makes you feel better.

I just freaking need some overnight diapers! Come on! Help me here! Please?

Thursday, July 30, 2009

About that award

So I am honored, nay, amazed and gratified, to find myself the recipient of an award. Not just any lady gave me this, but a fellow blogger. JennyMac at lets have a cocktail who has at least 8 billion more readers than I and yet finds me interesting. A blogger who writes and follows some of the wittiest and smartest blogs I've ever read and yet found me worthy of mention on a short list of her faves. Shocking really. The award is called Honest Scrap for honest blogging. I don't hold much back I suppose, so it fits.

And would I be a mother if I wasn't so self denigrating and humble? Pshaw. No really, I don't feel worthy because on a daily basis I write whatever comes out of my head and a lot of her other examples seem to create very intricate blogs with well thought out premises. Not I. Pretty much barf onto the keyboard. Ah well, to each their own, and I am not against accepting awards. However, they do come with work. And I do get to pass them on to other worthies, whether they like it or not. Now you get to see who my 'read every day' bloggers are, although that column on the right side of the page might already have given you a clue.

Here are the rules: First, the recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.

Second, the recipient annoints ten other bloggers with this prestigious award and advises them of their famed status.
They in turn give you a proper nod for recognizing their brilliance, and then pass the award along.

Ten things NO ONE KNOWS? Impossible. Everyone knows everything about me. Well let's see:
1. I was completely correct in guessing the genders of my triplets the morning of the ultrasound to find out. I mean exactly, not just 2 boys and a girl but A was a girl, and so on. Impressed me.
2. I really have a big problem with spiders due to one appearing on my shoulder while drying off from a shower when I was like 8. Actually it's not fair because it was a daddy long legs but sorry spidees. However, I will not kill one. I will leave the room and give it time to disappear.
3. I really wish I had the willpower or drive to be a vegan but I don't. I hate that animals suffer.
4. Breakfast is my favorite meal.
5. I inherited a bunch of money when I was in college but I donated most of it away (to the animals!) and then I put a downpayment on a house and that was the end of it. Did choose worthy causes mind you. Just felt guilty being handed a dead person's money.
6. I'm absolutely certain that God put the wrong color hair on my head and thus I dye it the 'correct' color which really does look better. When I was a little girl I also thought God forgot to put fat on my brother so he slapped it all on me. You should see the pictures that convinced me of this. It sure looks probable.
7. I was called 'megamouth' after a game they sold in the 80s when I was in grade school. Those who know me I'm sure can NOT imagine why. Sure sucked.
8. I used to be a christmas sweater and earrings wearing woman for quite a while. I think I was recapturing my youth, or rather recreating the holiday to actually be fun since it never was when I was growing up. I still wear the earrings so sue me. And I will wear a halloween t-shirt now and then. Whatever.
9. I talk to an astrologer once in a while so she can tell me life really will get better soon. I'm counting the minutes. She was right before when I needed a boost. Life did get better. And who doesn't need someone reassuring them sometimes. So shaddup.
10. I would have been a bio major but I refused to sit in labs all freaking afternoon on warm spring days. Really. That's why I chose history. No really.

So on to my list of 10 bloggers (I don't know 10 bloggers!) who deserve this award. Here's my best attempt:
1. Andrea at Smart and Sassy who probably doesn't want more readers, but too hilarious not to deserve some.
2. Ellen at Wear at Work who writes fashion advice and some very funny rants regarding fashion mistakes. Do NOT end up one of her fashion victims. She will get you.
3. Dumb mom over at Parenting by Dummies who is not just funny but supportive and a SITSta.
4. ck at Bad Mommy Moments who will not want this award but really is crazy funny and makes me hope my kids do the same nutty stuff she writes about. Even though it sucks sometimes.
5. Gibby at Lost in Suburban Bliss because she tells it like it is about mommyhood too.
6. I'm all out again.

Really, I read other blogs but they're not trying to get more readers I think, they're family blogs. I love all my triplet mommas but there are too many to list here and, again, I think this award is more for people trying to get a following? So don't get all whiney if I missed you. It's not that I don't love you. And if you want, comment and complain. I might remember I forgot to add you.

Thanks again JennyMac!

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

My name is Mira and I'm an addict

I know I know, I deserve to be beaten with a wet noodle, as Dear Abby always said. Here I go off whining about comments or the lack thereof on my blog and what do I do next? Not post. How could I? Just when people were ready to pity comment for me for at least a couple of days. Well this is how it happened: I got a book? And I read it.

Yes, this rare phenomenon in a triplet mom's life is quite a sight indeed. Not only having the time to read at all but actually using it for reading. The problem all started when I decided to pick up a couple of books for the trip with the kids in a few weeks. I ostensibly will not spend my time at a lovely 'beach house' on the Russian River glued to the tv watching reruns after the kids go to sleep. I hope. So I will have time for some lovely sitting on a deck and reading. I have no deck at home, and it's unbelievably cold in summer in SF (thanks fog and no thanks to global warming as of yet.) So once I sit on the couch the tv clicks itself on (no really!) and that's it. So I picked up 3 books for the trip. But then I thought maybe it would be ok if I just peeked. I picked the lightest one (content wise) a chick lit book kind of. I'm not ashamed to admit that I don't read high quality literature right now. I don't have the brain power.

But that peek? Turned into a read-a-thon. I could not put the thing down. I spent the day running errands and playing with the kids dreaming of where I could find a few minutes to read. I even, and this is nuts, DIDN'T GET THE DAILY PAPER READ. I read the paper every day. I know I'm a throwback. Who reads papers these days? Me. But I always read the paper, and I always read my friendly blogs and comment and I always write my blog at some point. But kids, I couldn't help it. I GOT TO READ A BOOK!!

Ok, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I am a lame-o but take pity on me once more. I owe my friend JennyMac over at lets have a cocktail a post acknowledging the lovely award she gave me and all that goes with it, but she will wait another day for me I am sure. I finished the book and am now back in the world. I will not make that mistake again for at least another few weeks.

Although I have to admit, now that the addiction has had a taste it's unbelievably hard not to pick up another book. But I see now the ravages of the addiction for what it is: a time sucking, happiness inducing, brain expanding, daily life stopping, only for the young and childless, unbelievably tempting disease. God save me from the books.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Time to get jiggy

Ok, I'm a comment whore. What do I have to do to get more comments? Have I screwed myself completely because a couple of days I slept and posted late? Did you give up on me? I think I need to spend more time on this blog making it fancier and bling-ier but where am I getting that time? Do I really need to make a cool scrapbook header or something to attract people? I go visit other blogs, they always visit me back, because the blogger community rocks, but if I have to earn every follower among other bloggers that kind of defeats the point I think.

Sometimes I think I've written the funniest thing ever and people are going to love it and I get nothing. Other times I write a whiney little miserable blog entry all about poor me and I get more responses! That seem silly. I know I'm worthy of pity sometimes but I'd sure like more people to read the 'good' blog posts I write. When I'm hot and the words just fly out of my fingers? I love those posts and end up reading them 10 times that day because I'm trying to see why no one is commenting!

I need a gimmick. Or a give-away. I have a lot of broken toys and torn up books that are free, but somehow I don't think that will work. I have an extra cat or an extra kid or two I could loan out. But shipping across country might be tricky. How does the lonely, new blogger on the block attract attention? I've joined SITS which rocks, and the Multiples and More blog network and I know I get a lot of hits from there but I need more. It's like crack, getting comments. I thrive on them. I know people have visited my blog but what do they think? Did they get inspired? Annoyed? Wish I'd stop whining? What are you thinking??

Ok, well, that's enough of that, speaking of wishing I'd stop. I'm off to find some other way to cure this need for comments. Because I'm aware that I need to get a heck of a lot better at blogging in order to attract a larger audience. I also need to dedicate more time to getting out there and visiting other blogs as well as making mine more smashing. The basic layout is too boring. Got to get flashy. Any recommendations?

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Slacker Sunday photo

B setting up home in his ship bunk complete with porthole

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Smile yourself happy

I've finally bitten the bullet and plunked down a lot of cash to book a house for a 'vacation' with the triplets. I picked a lovely 5 bedroom house on the Russian River, which is only about an hour and a half from here. It's also only 30 min north of the grandparent's house in Petaluma, so I'm not stretching too much. All hell breaks loose and we can come scurrying home with our tail between our legs. Being only 30 from the in-laws also means if we forget things we are easily in reach of it or a walmart at any time. And if they fall and crack their fool heads, we are 15-30 from the nearest big town with a hospital.

Now where the nearest mental ward is I am not sure.

Triplets preparing their lounge chair act

In any case, I am trying to put a positive attitude on for this, since it scares me silly to be 10 days without a nanny to help out. I am contemplating ways to have help come but other than conscripting friends, I'm not sure. But I'm certain I have to be the positive one or it will go to heck for sure. If momma ain't know? So I'm going to try an experiment. This might shock some of you who know me well, but I'm going to try not to think of everything that could go wrong and I'm going to put a smile on and arrive like we're going to have the best time ever.

Think it'll work, this brain transplant idea? Because I never think of my worst case scenario thinking as a truly bad thing. Just know I'm always prepared for the worst and if the best happens, how great. Is it really worse to think the worst and then truly enjoy when you're wrong or than to think the best will happen and sometimes be disappointed? I don't know. In high school I was voted most pessimistic. So I believed I was. But in recent years I figured out it's not actually true. I am quite the optimist in most situations. What people misunderstand about me is that my sarcasm and dry sense of humor picks out the terrible things, the possible nightmares, the dark stuff, and uses that as fodder. So my jokes are negative, dark or possibly pessimistic. I'm not.

There are a few people in my life who have just not gotten this. They are not my friends ever if for long. If you think I'm just a complainer and griper, why would you want to be my friend? But is it their lack of sense of humor that is the problem or am I sometimes too much to take? Hard to say. Sure it annoys me when someone tells me I'm too negative or to lighten up. But I usually am just shocked. I'm sitting there at a wedding saying I hope the bride doesn't notice that the waiters just screwed up and someone thinks I'm being negative. Um, I'm empathizing with the bride? Or possibly I'm having a little fun making fun of the waiter? Or possibly I'm just making conversation? Or, heck, maybe I'm being a little snarky, but that's not a crime.

But I digress. I am a positive person or I would not be surviving triplets. I am a positive person or my mom would have me in the psych ward right along side her sometimes. I am a positive person because despite my misgivings, in three weeks I am packing up my entire house into a minivan and heading north for a week. Wish me luck.

Friday, July 24, 2009

catastrophic diaper failure

Dear Huggies,

I have been a fan of your overnight diapers for probably about a year now. My three gigantic triplets have worn them every night with much success, even though I had to use a size larger than recommended on your package to comply with their needs. Even my son, B, who holds all of his urine during the day just so he can fill up one of your diapers until they weigh at least 8 lbs in the morning, has been a success story. I mean we could probably squeeze his diaper out in the morning and find 5 gallons of pee. Seriously. I don't know why he pees so much at night, perhaps he dreams of waterfalls a lot.

However, recently we have been having problems. I consider the fact that I have had to wake up 8 of the last 10 mornings during the 4-5 am hour because one or more of my children is soaking wet a problem. I do not mean a little spot of leakage. I mean these children are usually wet from just under their ribcage to their knees or lower. I consider this an CATASTROPHIC. DIAPER. FAILURE. The fact that it is happening to a boy and a girl means that this is not a gender specific design problem. The fact that we are using a diaper a size larger than you would recommend means that we should have covered our bases. But, the mere fact that I am writing this missive at 4 am tells me and you that there is a problem. This morning I had the joy of changing two children in the dark. Whether the diaper replacement ended up properly applied or the region in question got properly cleaned has yet to be determined in daylight hours.

This, my friends, is unacceptable. I am a tired mom. I have had sick or disobedient children for about 8 weeks now, which, due to the level of complaining I've been doing, you may have already heard about through the grapevine. What is more unacceptable is that there is no overnight diaper one size larger than we use. That's right. Perhaps it never occurred to you that anyone should need an overnight diaper larger than a 6, which according to your package (which I might add, I might have to sue you for as it is false advertising at it's worst) is for children 35+ lbs. Now admittedly, my children are only hovering around the 30 lb mark but what am I supposed to do? Put rubber pants on over your diapers? Double diaper them with your already bulky overnight diapers? Wrap their entire lower halves in cellophane?

Because I am telling you right now that 4 am is a time I do not like to see. I do not like even more to have to change diapers and pajamas at this hour on one of more children. You must find me a solution. Immediately. While my in the dark diapering skills are improving, this is not a useful skill outside of raising toddler triplets. Seeing as how we, with our gigantic triplets, use approximately 1894 diapers a month, we are quite a valuable customer to you. So let's hear some brainstorming, or perhaps you could just make a freaking size 7 for me. Please?

Your crabby mamma,

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Too sick or not sick enough?

Trying to decide whether your kid is sick enough to go to the doctor or not is frustrating. On the one hand, who cares if you go too often if you never miss a bad illness because of it. On the other hand, if you have to wake them up, stress them out, expose them to the germs at the pediatrician's office, and the doctor stops thinking you are usually correct when you call about a sick child, is that worth it?

I am stuck today with a doctor appointment I made this morning based on the night and the morning behaviors. I am taking two of three to the doctor because I was certain this morning they had bronchitis and were getting worse. Strangely, as the day wears on, they seem to be getting better. Naturally, I know that everyone feels better mid day than they do in the evenings and early morning but do you base your decision on the worst time of day or the best? Because B didn't eat breakfast. That never happens. When B and J cough they are so full of phlegm I wonder how they are breathing. They are, in fact, sicker than I have ever seen them. But what does that mean without a fever? Not much. How do you know when you cross the line to needing medical help?

And why do I care what the doctor thinks? Because I have this drive to be respected by all doctors for some reason. Veterinarians included. I do not want to be the over hyper mom who calls all the time, I want to be the mom who, when she calls, the dr thinks to himself, this must be important because she is usually right on the mark about her kids. I don't know where this strange phenomenon came from, me needing them to respect me and think I'm a smart diagnostician. Who the heck cares? Isn't it better to go when you don't need to go than not go when you should have? Of course.

So how do I stop sitting here stressing about going in there with two probably healthy boys who may become scared or screamy just because I'm taking them there? And when I know I'm already on the brink of full on faint exhaustion levels I'm adding to my load by carrying, loading, unloading, entertaining and holding down two wiggly toddlers. What do I do?

I guess I just stinking go.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Mom's a crab

You know, when I was a single, stupid, ignorant fool, I thought my friend was a little hard on her kids. She had three pre-teen to teen age girls (actually she had 5 but the other two were all grown up) and I hung out a lot with them. She would place them all in the back seat of a car and within 10 minutes there was whining, crying, or complaining about the abuse from the other occupants of said backseat by one of the three if not more. She would very rapidly move from talking normally to telling them in no uncertain terms that they could be left by the side of the road to walk home if they did not SHUT. UP. Well she never used the words shut up, but you know what I mean. Speak and die.

I always cringed a bit, I mean, I was one of those in the backseat once and it is HARD to get along for too long together with your sibling. Isn't it? I thought, I know they're annoying but shouldn't you have more patience? But I knew I thought she was a great mom and the kids honestly loved her to bits and her life is hard so I decided to drop my judgement and assume that she knew what she was doing. But I didn't forget feeling like maybe she needed to chill a bit.

Well. Hmm. Lets see here. Due to the lack of sleep acquired during 4, count 'em, 4 bouts of colds with triplets that has now even devolved to the point that two are on nebulizers to stop wheezing, which means I have not had a REM cycle in approximately 8 weeks and actually means I feel more tired than I did with three newborn triplets, I officially hang my head in shame. Oh that I judged a mother of many children ever. I mean, these kids are lucky I haven't left them out for recycling yet. By accident at least if not on purpose. I AM TIRED.

And if they have one more fight over the one toy out of a thousand that they own that two of them wants at the same time? I am not responsible for my actions. I have confiscated toy after toy some days because of this endless battle. As soon as one kid picks up a toy someone else wants it too. They love sitting in the toy box that does not comfortably fit 2 of them in it but god knows, they will all three try to climb in once one of them has. The toy box itself has been removed from the room when the only other choice was to stuff them all in it and close the lid, which, I'm told, is child abuse unfortunately. But at least they'd all be happy that they were in it? Not?

People, I'm losing my mind. The universe is trying to kill me one night at a time. I am now that crabby mom I always wondered about! I hope to heck my kids remember me as happy. Perhaps they will once they stop picking up every illness being passed around. Perhaps it's just a mom of siblings thing? Maybe the fighting just wears so fast that you just end up snapping faster than seems called for. Because it is also inevitable that the most fighting happens when everyone is the most crabby from being sick or tired and that is just a recipe for disaster.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

oooh that little....

So there I am, 2am wake up again. Kids are getting sick. The boys are coughing their lungs out, noses running at a fast pace and we begin. The least sick kid, A, is waking every 20 min. At first I am sympathetic. I mean her brothers are coughing, so how can she sleep? I go in, I pat her, tuck her in, stroke her head. Worry a little because she usually cries the most the night before she gets sick so I know what's coming right?

Meanwhile, because my children are annoying, B has decided that every time I come into the room it must be for him. Even though his sister is the one screaming, it's him I must have come running to pat, right? So since I dare to go to her first he starts in. Whining, standing up, rattling his cage, fussing, and eventually, screaming. Sigh. So I get her settled and step over to settle him down. No sooner do I step away but her head pops up. I step back over to her crib and gently (or maybe not so gently) place her head back onto the mattress. B pops up and starts fussing again. I mean really? Am I supposed to stay calm and rational at this moment? Do you two really not realize that you are one of three yet? I will pat whichever of you needs it most at whatever time and you are to keep your little head down on your mattress and zip it!

So it carries on like this until I leave the room, hoping I've settled each somewhat enough. 20 minutes later, I'm back on it. A starts screaming her fool head off and I return. I check her all over for leaky diaper, poop, broken parts, scorpions, you name it. Nothing. Wrong. Fine, I still feel sorry for her because seemingly, even though when I stand over B he does not cough, the minute I leave the room his coughing starts up again. I'd venture to guess 'someone' is sitting up when I leave the room but since I'm not allowed to tie him to his mattress, so it will be.

From 2-4am I play this every 20 minutes game. I am patient, no? But you know what? I'm done. At 4 I am physically done, mentally finished and overall going to kill a child if I step back in that nursery again before morning officially begins so I hear her screaming like she's being skinned alive but I wait. She calms down on her own, I begin to drift off thinking maybe it's all over. Oh, there she goes again. She's winding up for the scream when B says 'da' to her. That's triplet speak for "I'm awake too, wanna play?" Or so I think I've translated. So here's what it sounds like:

"Aaaaaaahhh..." "da" "Aaaahhh, DA DA, Auuuuuggghhhaaaaauughghwahaaaaaahhh!"

I kid you not. She paused in her scream to respond to B happily and calmly, "da da" being triplet speak for "I'm up for playing!" only to return to her screaming now that that business was out of the way. I can not repeat here the words that came out of my mouth when I heard this. If that girl thinks I'm stupid enough to hear her talking with her brother about playing and still think she's dying of some unknown condition at 4am? That little girl is wrong. That little girl is such a faker! I can tell you, however, that I did NOT get out of bed again. And you know what? She was alive in the morning. Probably a better result than she deserved.

Monday, July 20, 2009


So this weekend I got into a pretty good funk about the whole vacation thing. I looked up Disney Cruises, as if I could afford one, and found out that basically you need the kids to be 3 and potty trained, which, with two boys means at least 4. Which, with the proper math skills I can deduce to mean we are not going on a family vacation that I will enjoy for approximately 2 and 1/2 more years.

Kind of depressing. I put out a sad call to my multiples parents in the SF area to see if this was really true. I am craving a change of scenery. Dying for it. And yet, if it's just more work and I have to give up my morning help, then why would I do it? Is it really that refreshing to sit on a different balcony, perhaps staring at waves or a river, after the kids go to bed than staring at my tv at home? And if they sleep badly because they're in a new place? And if I can't keep them from escaping into the woods and so never get to sit down is that worth it?

I don't know. I'm trying to find a solution in some house I could rent on the Russian River or in Tahoe that has a fenced back yard, a different climate (anything different than cold foggy SF might be nice) and perhaps a beach, park or playground nearby or even better, a pool. There must be a way for me to 'get away' and feel ok about it. There must...

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Free me!

There are so many triplet moms out there who do so much more with their kids than I do. I feel like I've been trapped inside my house for years since it started when I was an 800 lb pregnant woman. I mean, sure, we go to the park in the mornings and we've been to the zoo and the Discovery Museum in Sausalito (which rocks) but being on Facebook puts my life in a sad perspective. These women are off to lakeside cabins, barbecues, trips to mountains and beaches, playdates and relatives' houses far away.

What am I doing sitting on my arse? I thought it was a triplet thing that had me so homebound. You know, my usual shtick about how you all with the one baby can miss a nap and only have one crabby baby but I am NOT having three missed naps and crabby children. NOT. I mean I'm not insane right? Kids who have missed naps are miserable. Nightmarish even. They look like this:

Actually I have no pics of angry children because we never. miss. naps.

The one time I took a 'vacation' with the triplets about 3 hours north to a beach like area it felt like more work. I mean, I do have a nanny to help most mornings and on vacation? Not. So how is it a vacation when it's more work and harder than my 'regular' life? How would a lakeside cabin be any fun if I can't actually sit still on the porch and look at the lake? Except after bedtime? It just doesn't work for me. And as for barbecues, I'd have to run after children in someone's possibly unfenced backyard or a crowded beach area constantly. How do I enjoy that? I suppose friends would chip in and watch one or more kids for me while I stuff a little ribs in my face?

I mean I go to weddings where people get to bring their one beautiful moody baby but the couple can take turns. We can't! I couldn't get an appetizer down, much less a whole wedding dinner if I brought the triplets. So I guess I have to take my hat off to you much more adventuresome moms. You're amazing. You're fantastic! You're....out of your freaking minds! Or is there a trick? Tell me please? Because I have been counting the days until I can take the kids to carnivals and fairs and go on a freaking vacation and they still seem years away.

Oh but I AM going on a Disney cruise when I win the lottery. SO. AM.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Hey crabby pants...

Dear unknown nanny,

I've now spent two hours with you at my triplets' music and movement class, and admittedly I was busy chasing one of three around the room and participating in the class, but I've made some observations that I'd like to share. First of all, I'm not sure who hired you, but I'm pretty certain that the parents of that delightful little girl hired you for many good reasons. My guess is that they anticipated that you would actively participate in their daughter's life bringing her joy as well as discipline in good measure. None of us parents expects nannies to be 'on' all the time but when we pay you to care for our children we expect a few things:

1. An attitude that indicates you kind of sort of like our child or children at least a little bit.
2. A willingness to participate in the activities that help our child grow or just entertain them.
3. A smile at our child on an occasional basis.
4. An ability to at least pretend enthusiasm when the class requires it so that our child feels inspired to participate in the class on which we have spent our hard earned money.
5. Not to see the following behaviors: frowning at our child while smiling at everyone elses', sitting still when it's participation time, not singing the introductory song, or ripping of drumsticks or cymbals out of our child's hands disapprovingly when it's FREE. INSTRUMENT. TIME.,

Now, I don't know about you, but I'm inclined to tell on you. If I could find the parents of your charge and let them know that somehow they hired a surly, unhappy, non-participating, misses the entire point of music and movement class nanny, I think they'd be glad I told them. However, in a city of millions, my chances of reaching them are miniscule. However, if I have to dance through one more class while watching your black cloud stifle the joy of your charge I may find a way. I and my nanny can NOT be the only ones encouraging your charge to sing and dance freely as is the POINT OF THE CLASS. Unless you are taking her home to a glass house wherein she is not allowed to be a child, then I think she's allowed to make some noise and have fun in this class. Capiche? Liven up and chill out for goodness' sake or I might smack some happy into you personally.


Thursday, July 16, 2009

Kids and cats, the same?

How my kids are like my cats. Or vice versa naturally.

1. They chase each other around the house.
2. They fight with each other regularly, over me or random crap.
3. They all want to pile on me at once and none of them wants anyone else on me at the same time.
4. They prefer to play with garbage or wrapping more than the toys we spend so much money on.
5. I have to clean up their poop, pee and vomit on a regular basis.
6. They hate the doctor and practically claw me to death trying to get away from him.
7. They turn their nose up at half the food I serve them.
8. They destroy my furniture.
9. They want attention in the middle of the night.
10. They cry constantly while I'm fixing their meals, apparently not fast enough.
11. They writhe in agony while I'm trimming their nails even though I am NOT hurting them.
12. The Dr has to constantly explain their odd behaviors to me.
13. According to them I never spend enough time with them.
14. They tend to drool all over me.
15. They all have different personalities.
16. Oh heck, I love every messy, annoying, demanding one of them.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Someone tell me, what is the point of putting one's elderly parent in a facility with nurses on staff if they don't do, well, nursing? I understand that what we are paying for is an assisted living facility, not a nursing home. I understand that my mom is there because she can care for herself. Mostly. However, I know there are sicker people there than her (at least physically) and I know the nurses must check up on them occasionally, I know the nurses are actual medical nurses too. So how can they be fine when a woman is descending into her 80th round of pneumonia just faxing a request to her doctor for some cough syrup and then forgetting about it?

I don't mean they waited a few hours. I mean they forgot about it. They faxed the doctor Friday morning. They're afraid to give her any cough syrup without his approval, which makes sense since she's on a cocktail of drugs that is hard to imagine already. However, she's had cough syrup before, so can't they just look that one up? Secondly, I understand also that Saturday and Sunday they could or would not be able to do anything because doctor offices close on the weekends. Fine. That still leaves the time between 4 and 5pm Friday to re-check why we haven't heard from anyone and be concerned that my mom will be there all weekend with nothing to assist her and THE. ENTIRE. DAY. OF. MONDAY.

Nothing happened Monday. Different nurse apparently, and apparently they don't talk to one another. Or leave post its. I mean is it real that the Monday nurse has to walk in knowing nothing from the Friday or Saturday before and figure it all out herself? And meanwhile, my mom, who is not entirely blameless herself, is slowly filling up with mucous while acting like she's fine all day. She's going to exercise class for the first time in weeks, heading over here to my house to cough all over my children and so on and doesn't think to herself, 'hmm, maybe I should call the nurse this morning to make sure they're still on the case.' No, that would be like asking for help. Which is against her personal bible of how to live life.

But I mean really! Nurse? You have a sick patient. Do you care? She is in your facility. What is your duty exactly? What are you there for? To distribute pills only? Because while you may count them out, I'm aware that you have actual assistants who carry the pills to rooms. So in between pill countings? What do you do? Read magazines? Because to fax and forget is very pharmacy of you. I fully expect a pharmacist not to care, although that pisses me off too. But you? You are supposed to act like you care about the people in the building. My mom is one of them. One of the more annoying ones perhaps, but still. Most people seem to like her. Why don't you take 5 minutes to go listen to her lungs? Call the doctor one more time. Fax them even for chrissake? Is it really too much to ask?

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Sicko update!

For those of you sitting on the edge of your chairs, no pinkeye and the nose faucet seems all better today. Well never perfect, but 90% less snot than yesterday. That's delightful if you ask me. Now let's shoot for 6 whole hours in a row of sleep tonight! And no diaper explosions.

Aaaaaaaah. That's more like it.

Ok I'm back. thanks to a stretch of 4 or 5 hours and another of 3 that was given to me last night by my still sick but possibly drugged into submission children. No, I only drugged one. And she still woke up 4 times. But she spaced it out better. The night before she had done a 10, 11, 12, 2, 4, 4:10, 4:20, 4:30 thing that pretty much killed me. Not to mention the diaper explosion of B at 5:30 immediately following. I mean, when it rains, it pours, right? I'm hoping that when I head in there this morning I will find then all over the third cold and A's eye will just turn out to have been a cold symptom and not have turned into pinkeye overnight. That would suck. Because my chances of not having three pinkeyes? Miniscule.

It's amazing how you can have night after night of miserable sleep and just one night with a longer section or two can completely revive you. I feel like a human being today. I can handle whatever thousand things I should be doing, smile at my kids, make it through without counting the seconds to bedtime the minute they get up from their nap and so on. Or I think so. The rest of the day remains to be seen. The first order of duty is a shower. Somehow with or without help, showering on the weekends is a lost cause. And yesterday? Just too tired to step into the box. So I stink. And tonight is date night. Gotta try to look good at least because hubby does.

I am fairly certain, however, that something must go wrong. For goodness' sake I have 3 toddlers. I am dreading a visit to the dr today. I am prepared for pinkeye so that wont send me but you just never know and I have a bad feeling. I have learned that my bad feelings are generally right on. I'm like a bloodhound on the trail of bad news. I'm sure you'll all be waiting on the edge of your seat for an update...

Monday, July 13, 2009

So tired, tired of...

Sorry fans. And I know there are a lot of ya. Mommy has just not had enough sleep in days. I can't be imaginative or funny and god forbid I try to just put a few sentences together. I'm going to sleep every second I have free today and eat the rest of the time. Oh, and take care of some triplets who reside in my home. One of who's eye is weeping as fast as her two nostrils now. yay.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Slacker Sunday photo

How many other children do you thing have done this exact same thing to this exact same maraca recently? I'm thinking 3 billion. Germs at least.

Saturday, July 11, 2009


Boogers again. No, really, 3rd cold in 6 weeks, BOOGERS AGAIN!!! I can not believe it. I am ready to instruct all triplet childcare providers that my children will be doused in baths of hand sanitizer upon leaving any public arena and before all meals. Meanwhile I believe all of their toys will be boiled and dunked in gasoline before being lit on fire to sanitize them. Now, I'm not sure many toys will survive this process but A. we have a lot of stinking toys so we can spare a few, and B. I. Don't. Care. We need to stop this situation pronto. I will not wipe more snotty noses every two weeks and survive. I can not spend one more kiddie meal watching them eat equal quantities of boogers with each bite of food. I will vomit. I know it.

Perhaps I should just make them bubble children? Although the weight of entertaining them all day long in the house might kill me a different way than booger wiping would. Perhaps more painful? I mean, their attention span would require 800 different activities in one morning alone if they did not have sand, swings and play structures or the rec. center full of toys to explore. Perhaps it's a better trade off not having to be inventive or energetic every morning to let them be exposed to the 8 million germs left behind by other snotty children who's parents were perhaps not as vigilant about wiping their noses before they overflowed onto the communal toys.

Or perhaps I should spare myself the effort and let them run around with boogers hanging down to their knees, ignoring the evil eyes from other parents and pretending I don't see anything. Would spare me some of the gross out factor, but honestly? I have cute kids. I don't think I could stand to watch them covered in snot. I want everyone else to see how cute they are, not how bad of a mom I am. Focus on the children folks! Help me out a bit, lend a kleenex to the effort. For goodness' sake.

I don't know what the solution is but I am not a happy mom right now. Long nights with lots of wake ups due to coughs and congestion do not make for good mornings and energetic mothering. Crabby sick children do not make me love my job. And I have pretty good natured kids despite the illnesses, perhaps they're just getting used to constantly feeling sick? But there has to be an answer to stop this cycle. Is it just common in the summer for kids to be sick more often? More kids on the playgrounds since they're not in school and so they are passing around more colds? Whatever it is, I think I'm going to dress them head to toe in kevlar or teflon. Or some kind of hazmat suit made for kids. I think I just came up with my million dollar patent! Hazmat suits for toddlers! We would all be so much happier without sick toddlers! Who wants to give me seed money?

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Birthed child pains

The pain of children doesn't end at childbirth. Sure, it was more direct during that pregnancy thing. Bladder kicks, stretching muscles and tendons, hemorrhoids, and the usual discomforts, not to mention the actual birthing process, I don't care how the baby or babies come out. It all hurts and it hurts a. lot. For some reason we choose to subject ourselves to it more than once quite frequently but we don't realize what we're in for in the long haul do we? The whole stinking process of raising kids is painful, and I'm not talking about the mental stuff!

First, there's the back breaking lifting and carrying and toting and rocking and walking of the baby or babies. My back hurt like hell during the first few months! I still don't now how women wear those baby carrier things, my shoulders would ache for days after. Sure, I had huge babies but people wear those with their babies all kinds of sizes and I just don't see how.

Next, at some point you baby proof and baby gates are in half the doors in the house. Baby gates are not for keeping kids in or out of a room, they're for torturing parents! Every time I walk in or out of a door I get a new bruise from knocking my thigh against the frame. I can't even open the things fast enough to keep from kicking the stupid gate on the way through. Unbelievable. Where's the stupid remote control that opens the door and slides the frame into the wall?

Then, inevitably, the kids decide you're a trampoline, punching bag, gym mat or whatever and start jumping on you, pounding on you, crawling all over you and generally treating you like a great big stuffed animal. Try telling them to be gentle when they realize that when they pound on your belly it jiggles in a very amusing way. Try getting them to stop jumping on you when they realize it's such a soft place to land. It just doesn't work.

Not to mention the endless round of unintentional head butts, book corner to cheek hits, plastic hammer whacks and random full on kicks by children not entirely sure how to coordinate their body parts yet. I have bruises all over, especially on my face, but that's probably because I'm stupid enough to lean in again and again while making smoochy smoochy noises to kiss bellies and faces and feet of flailing children. I suppose I'll never be able to resist. The learning curve is defeated by sheer hormonal attraction to baby belly. Ach.

I'm sure I've missed a few, but you get the general idea. Raising children is cause for many injuries, bruises, strains, headaches and general malaise. And I'm not even talking about the illnesses they give you. Cold after cold after flu after cold. Good gracious. I need a vacation.

Triplets or normal?

I see behaviors in my children and sometimes I wonder, is it because they're triplets, or could any kid be this way? I begin with the story of our first music and movement class we took today, your typical toddler music class with random instruments and made up music in a random dance studio. We arrived there a bit early so we could get parking and get situated and snack, and found it was just an empty studio with mirrors on one side and no props out or visible. My children began tearing around the room like they were in their own living room. A yelling out a greeting to anyone who was in the room, B and C trying to destroy the teacher's paperwork, A beating on the mirrors like she was in grandma's house, I mean they were nuts! Meanwhile, the other kids trickled in, clinging tightly to their parent's or nanny's legs. Shy as all get out. One cried and B went over and sat next to her! Triplets? Or did I just get three extroverts? I'd argue triplets. We are in a constant state of socialization. If you can't handle a lot of people or kids around, you aren't going to make it as a triplet, right?

The other possibility is that I am just a laid back mom. Now daddy would disagree but he's missing the point. I am a controlling nightmare about naps and scheduling the kids, sure, but you try having triplets and not being one. What I mean is that I never pushed the kids out of their comfort zone even though they have been exposed to a lot. When they needed to be left alone, they were left alone. I fiercely defended them from poking and prodding by strangers. I made sure the extroverted child was put into the visitor's arms first, usually held the shy kid myself. But there must be something I'm doing right. They aren't addicted to binkies/pacifiers. They fall asleep within an hour of bedtime (well don't hold B to that but pretty soon after!) and have accepted that I am not coming into the bedtime before 7:20 am. They are off bottles, drinking milk, eating some veggies and fruits and growing like weeds. And apparently, you can take them anywhere!

I think this post has turned into a 'yay me' post. How about that? Amazing what a little music class can do!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

On sleep

Speaking of evolutionary principles, what is the point of fighting one's bedtime till all hours when you know perfectly well you will be up at 6 am no matter when you fell asleep? It seems mighty counterintuitive seeing as how doctors have shown that inadequate sleep will affect you negatively in many ways. So why do toddlers fight their parents, sometimes for hours each night, about falling asleep in their beds and then spend the next day all bleary eyed and crabby for all to enjoy?

Of course it's not just the toddlers is it? How many of you adults out there fight your bedtime constantly? I say almost every day 'today I'm going to go to bed early because I feel like crap.' Does it happen? Oh no. Despite the fact that I know that my impatient, tired toddlers will be rattling their cages loudly and screaming starting as early as 6, I watch one more crappy show, read one more magazine, send one more email. I know I feel like my justification these days is that once the kids finally go to sleep I need a couple of hours to decompress but really? I'd feel better in the morning with less decompression and more sleep. And honestly? I didn't go to bed on time before I had kids.

So what is this about human nature? I'm a morning person and I still can't get into bed on time. So I spend my days dragging around trying to find the energy to play with three wildcats and rueing the lack of sleep I got last night, because in addition to my stupidity one or more babies may have had a bad night and awakened me 3 or 4 times for comforting, and I think to myself that there must be a reason we do this to ourselves? Perhaps the saber toothed tiger was on the prowl in early evening and we needed to be up to watch for it?

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

In contemplation of the noble tantrum

What is the evolutionary principle behind tantrums? Can you imagine, just imagine, cave mamma Ugg with child #1 standing just outside cave mouth #43 on Cave Mouth Street grinding corn or preparing to go out and gather and little cave kid Ugg Jr throws himself to the ground and pounds his tiny fists and kicks his tiny legs and screams like a bear to get what he wants? Do you suppose she rolls her cavelady eyes and hands it to him? Because I don't. I see cave mamma taking her club out and giving him a good whack.

Imagine, again, Mayan momma standing in the hot sun after harvesting corn (oh I'm not an indigenous tribe specialist get off my back) watching Mayan girl baby screaming to be allowed to play with that last ear of corn, because it had become her toy, and not giving it to Mayan momma immediately upon being asked. Do you think she might be tempting the Mayan god to select her for the heart sacrifice? I think I'd tread a bit more carefully if I were that kid.

And imagine, if you will, prairie settler family Miller just put prairie kid Joseph to bed and he throws a tantrum to the point of barfing on his bedcovers. Do you think that in an era of no washing machines and no multiple sheet sets he was allowed to do this time and time again for no apparent reason and not end up sleeping amidst his barf particles? I think not. I think he'd be washing his own sheets pretty soon in the river with bloody knuckles of his own. I think he'd learn pretty stinking fast not to barf in his bed. His mom wouldn't be running with his barfing self out of the nursery to try to stop the inevitable sheet change one stinking time. I don't think so. Heck, he'd be lucky to have a bed. And if he barfed in mom and pop's bed? I think he'd be hoeing a row of crops before he was 2.

I mean how did tantrums achieve anything until the current parental administration where we overindulge such children? In the last, what, 50 years there's been a sea change from children being a necessary production of help mates for the household to children being our entire reason for the sun coming up in the morning and goodness knows you better not wake/upset/scold/deny/deprive them. So I see how it's evolutionarily useful now. It works like a charm to lay your tiny little body down in the middle of a packed grocery store and go to town with tears and snot because you bet your mom is going to scoop your butt up and get you anything to shut you up so she can finish shopping because this is the one stupid chance she gets all week to get groceries and if she can't now you'll all starve.

Well not this mom. That kid and I will either be standing there annoying the rest of you until he's done with his theatrics or we leave and we starve. I know it looks bad to the other judging eyes and I've been them too, but you know once you're the parent that the difference between a tantrum and a true cry is so obvious to you at some point early on in getting to know this kid that you can not allow yourself to indulge the former. Because that only means more in the future. And those judging eyes? They can go have triplets of their own and then judge me. Well, maybe not even then. Because this is my kid, and for some unexplainable reason tantrums are there in the animal brain, even though I'm pretty sure that our ancestor apes used them to better effect and they should have been extinguished as a useful strategy somewhere around the 1300s, BC, and there is NOTHING. I. CAN. DO. ABOUT. IT. So smile sweetly and move on rubberneckers. Nothing to see here.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Holiday shmoliday

Long holiday weekends annoy me. Particularly because here I am exhausted at the end of one and everyone else is all fresh and, well, perhaps hung over. Fine, exhausted for a different reason. All sunburned and overfed and smokey throated from cookouts and sitting by pools and watching fireworks. See, I'm a holiday lover. Before I had kids who, for the first years of their lives, are keeping me from having any. Because what is a holiday if I lose my usual childcare for the day? That seems like NOT a holiday to me.

And I want to laugh about the idiot hooligans who set off firecrackers in my neighborhood half the night but I'm trying to sleep here. Why? Because my molar teething daughter has kept me up for 3 nights straight waking every hour or two to complain about it loudly. Because in the morning I have to get up, dress, feed and clean them and take the to the park singlehandedly. While at the park I have to monitor them on a jungle gym, catch B as he slides down the slide head first, A as she eats sand, C as he finds a step to just sit on and cry for no reason. But I also apparently have to monitor the 8 year old daughter of a dad playing basketball in the nearby courts for some reason?

First of all, this park is divided into two play areas with fences. The one we're in, for very young kids, and the other one for kids her age. Where does she choose to play? Here. How many times to I have to remind her that she has to close the stinking door behind her on the way in and out because I have THREE running toddlers trying to escape at every minute? And why does she have to bring in a cup of water to play in the sand with, leaving two wet sandy spots for my kid to sit in and walk in after she's abandoned them? No, I don't bring a change of clothing to the park with me, why would I? And how bad of a mom am I to have to let my daughter run around with a big wet behind on a 60 degree day?

Dad? Whomever you are? I don't think your wife's idea for you to take your daughter to the park was this exactly. I don't think she was supposed to entertain herself completely, do you see this as father/daughter bonding time? Do you think she'll look back on these days fondly? Oh, remember dad, how you used to take me to the park and abandon me so you could pretend you were still single and play with those loud sweaty men a testosterone laden game of basketball? Right.

So, I leave the Independence weekend a little crabbier than before. Shocking I know, but I think my transition to grouchy old lady may be completing. I'm the one at the window looking out at the neighborhood fireworks (and I'm not talking little tiny fireworks, I'm talking they got the kind that shoot up over their 3 story houses and explode, lighting up the neighborhood and echoing for miles) grumbling and moaning about kids and hooligans and where are the police. I'm the one sending dirty looks to the dad on the b-ball court ignoring his lonely daughter. I'm the one who can't wait until next year when the kids are old enough to take to a fireworks display and maybe spend the day cooking out and baking ourselves in the sun. Wait, what? That doesn't fit. Ok, fine, I have a little holiday spirit left in me. Even if it is all in future fantasy land.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Slacker Sunday photo

There is nothing in this photo that speaks well of me as a mother, is there?

Friday, July 3, 2009

Indentured servitude

Independence day means so much to so many people but independence is such a flighty thing. Once you have kids you are just never independent again, are you? It's a weighty thought, that once you give birth to this living organism you will never (if you're lucky) be without them again. Yes, they'll grow up and move away (18 long years from now) but they're still with you.

Not being alone is a positive reason for having kids, because who wants to be old and alone at the nursing home with no visitors and having at least one kid does increase your chances of having someone visit, at least on holidays. Now, having three simultaneously like me also increases your chances of having a next generation too, who might forgive you much more easily for your parental transgressions (seeing as how they were not visited upon them) and might therefore be more likely to visit you in your stinky urine smelling cubicle of hell. So it's definitely advantageous to decide to have children even if it means losing your independence.

Because what are the advantages of independence after all? Freedom to go anywhere you want, whenever you want. Well that's pretty appealing. But what if you have no one to go with? No one to tell about your adventures once you return? So, can you wait on that until they go to college? Perhaps. Freedom to sleep in, stay up late, watch what you want, answer the phone or not, walk around naked in the house. Well that's appealing too, but for how many years? We all stayed up late and slept in during college and some after. Was it really that great? Or was half the day gone before you got up and you were kind of groggy and out of place all day because your schedule is all off and it's hard to go to bed the next night and so on. So, perhaps we can sleep in on mother's day and when the kids are at camp and make it through 18 years that way?

Freedom to go out to dinner without hiring a babysitter, see a movie at the spur of a moment, run away for the weekend together and keep your marriage in good repair. Well, there's a lot of pull to that one. But what would it all feel like with no one to come home to who was missing you? No one who idolizes you, thinks you rock (well for now at least, leave me in my fantasy) wants to throw themselves upon you physically so they can slime you with snot and drool but make you feel like a million bucks? I don't know, it makes marriage hard, but it adds something too. You see a part of your partner you never would have seen otherwise. The nurturing father, the gentle caregiver, the guy who knows how to make them laugh while they're crying. The guy who took care of you while you were recovering from the worst c-section ever and never let on he was concerned. How would you have known about that part of him? You never would have fallen that much more in love with him without kids.

So maybe independence is overblown. I'm pretty sure when I sit and dream about what life was like before kids I might be rosying things up a bit. I'm pretty sure it wasn't all escapes to Napa B&Bs and moonlight beach walks. I'm also sure that I'm going to forget what it was like without kids soon and imagine that life without them would be pretty empty, just hubby and me. Sure I still fight for a few hours here and there alone, I will never not be independent in my soul. But every time I find my quiet time interrupted by these amazing, smiling, laughing, loving, hugging crazies I call my triplets, I forget I was annoyed by the interruption. Bah, independence. Let the revolution happen somewhere else. I'm fine with my servitude.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Compare and contrast

How my children are like my mom, or vice versa:
1. They use a walker occasionally, to practice walking.
2. They are very picky eaters and usually don't like what's being served by 'the house.'
3. They usually have to be told something 8 times and very sternly before they follow the instruction. Sometimes they still don't follow it.
4. They pretty much do what they want when they want to despite my best efforts.
5. They rarely consult me before invading my space or life.
6. They always get what they want.
7. They are always a mystery when trying to figure out what is wrong with them physically or mentally.
8. They don't like being taken care of but still cry/ask for it to be done and then act all stubbornly independent regardless.
9. They cry for me at inappropriate times of the night and day.
10. They don't listen to me, although I think I've already covered that above.
11. They constantly need to be entertained.
12. They require tons of shopping, paperwork, management, and general time sucking energy.
13. You have to love them anyways.

Thankfully, the kids are cheerful, pleasant, playful, fun and relaxed most of the time. I really do have great kids.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

She's got legs...

Its amazing that day after day my brain continues to think I'm 25. I will be walking down the street on any average day, well not an average day because I usually dress and feel like some kind of schlumpf, but on a day when I've actually gotten dressed and feel somewhat 'together,' and I will see some young hot dude approaching or a set of them sitting on a wall that I will have to pass and I will girly up and get ready to suck in the gut and walk past feeling kinda cute.

But then it hits me. That voice of reality, which seems to be a young black girl for some reason, says "Giiiirrrrrlll, you ain't 25 no more. You are 37, post triplets, and in clothes with cat hair and toddler snot on your shoulders." Ugh. Might as well punch me in the stomach. I deflate, I try to manage the mess a little bit, stomach still sucked in, pull hair across face, put purse on mucus covered shoulder to disguise. But it's amazing how easily I forget! And the funny thing is that when I was 25 I couldn't wait to be 30. Apparently my brain got stuck back there though. I'm continually amazed to find lines on my face and, when the hair dye starts to fade, grey hairs prolific in my scalp!

I know that a lot of women love their 50s, at least according to Oprah, and I'm wondering does one's brain finally catch on to the age you are at that point? Because as long as my brain keeps thinking I'm 25 I'm going to keep being disappointed when I look down at the truth as I'm walking down the street. Or in the windows of the shops I'm passing. Which used to be a fun thing to do, see how cute I look walking by in my new miniskirt outfit and heels. Good gracious, no miniskirts now. No sirree. If I happen to turn into one of those ladies who tries to dress 25 despite my age? Please, I admonish you all to slap me. I know it might make me cry, but it's better than looking like an ass.