Dearest Mommy

Dear mom,

I know that once upon a time you had two children of your own. Clearly, we must have come from you because I look like you for sure. I am quite certain that during our toddler years we resided within a reasonable distance of you as I did not have nannies or grandparents to whom I ran instead of you. Now I know it's been a long time, I'm an old woman myself, but I think most parents remember their childrens' early years with some fondness or at least some detail.

So how is it that you turned to me two days ago, when two of my three were fighting to be on my lap to be read to, and said "insist that they sit with me and read a book."

Insist?

How, pray tell, would you like me to 'insist' to a child of 20 months that they sit with you? Logic? Force? Cookies? Well that last one might work, the attention span of said child might only last the length of the cookie so I'm guessing it would be limited in its success.

So I tried to explain to you that I had been gone 4 days and naturally the kids wanted to sit in my lap and it was definitely nothing personal about you that caused them to do so. I came up with what I thought was a brilliant parallel to explain by saying that even when there were 100 other toys in the room (oh yes, I MIGHT have bought that many in the early days before we ran out of money) the children generally could be counted on to fight over that ONE particular toy that one child got ahold of first. Your response? "Yes well they should not fight over toys."

What?

Wait. Did you just say, mother of two children who I can personally testify did fight over every last and blasted thing on the planet, they "shouldn't?"

What rule book did that come from? What means this "shouldn't"? Children with children sized brains and egotistical mindsets of the typical child should not fight over toys?

Ok, you are disqualified from the judging of children from here on out. Because your rule book? It was written by aliens or something. Or old people who have forgotten what children are like. And I can no longer help you if you continue to compete with me over my own childrens' attention and yet expect them not to be competitive with each other over their one and only mother.

You, my dear mom, are going to have to chill.

The sincerest form of flattery

Ok, those of you without children will have to suffer this sentimental comment, but when all three of your toddlers start coming to you with outstretched arms and puckered lips and then place their slimy wet mouths on yours and say 'mwah' just like you have for 18 months? It's the best thing in the world. Kids learn so much just watching what we do and studying how we do things that they will amaze you. A has been 'kissing' on demand for some time, but the boys never showed a propensity. Why did they all of a sudden 'get it?'

A has been an imitator for a long time. She was the first one to get that you smile back when smiled to. Then she started fake laughing when we laughed. I think girls are naturally more likely to get those type of social interaction things sooner. So she soon realized that imitation brings attention. My little flirt loves attention!

Conversely, J loves to be imitated. He starts with a noise and we copy and he does it back and he thinks it's hilarious. But clearly he watches because, while he's always the last to do new things like walking, he does it quicker. He learns from their mistakes, watches them figure it out and then just does it. Smart little bugger.

B imitates his siblings and immediately wants whatever one of them has. He's not so into imitating us but he sure wants our attention. He is the king of tantrums where his eyes constantly rove around looking to see who's being affected by it (Grandma!) and who is going to come to his rescue (bad Grandma!) He is a great clown with funny facial expressions and body postures that just make you laugh out loud.

It's amazing how kids learn by imitating, but it makes you start to think what kind of role model you are providing. I need to get up off my butt, because if they imitate me they're going to be couch potatoes from minute one. They will also be complainers. Perhaps they will catch a little of my frustration level and be grumpy. I hope not. Because they are such cheerful little people right now, unless they're fighting over toys. I will have to make sure I'm a more positive person so I rub off on them the 'right way.'

Although having another 'hilariously sarcastic' person in the house might not be terrible?

Oooh that little....#2

Oh them crazy kids. You go through all the trouble of training them at night by not responding to every cry and they start sleeping through the night (say at 6 months of age?) only to find that 6 months later you're right back where you started. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, child A has started a pattern of waking every night at 4 am, sounding like she's had a nightmare. So you rush in, night after night and stupidly wonder, why the increase in nightmares? Maybe she's going through a developmental change? Maybe she's getting sick?

No. She's just training your stupid butt to get up every night at 4 am and pat her. Sure the first time was innocent, she probably did have a nightmare. But nights 22 and 23? Probably not so much. So it takes an aside question, asked while at the doctor's office for freaking hand, foot and mouth disease, about supposed increases in nightmares around this age to be set straight. Because the kind doctor in all his wisdom basically tells you that you're being taken for a ride.

How did I not recognize this for the 89th time? I mean how many times does one of my children have to take advantage of my kindly sleepy stupid self before I realize it on night 2 instead of night 22? Or rather, before someone else calls it to my attention? I mean duh? Every night at 4 am she has a nightmare? Really? Is sleep that predictable?

And another question I'd like answered. How is it MORE disruptive to B's sleep when I go in and shut that girl up within moments (tiptoeing silently as humanly possible) than leaving her caterwauling for 20 minutes? But oh it is! The minute I turn that doorknob, silently mind you, because I have developed the instincts of a ninja when it comes to making no noise, that boy is up and looking for attention. And god forbid I give attention to the screaming child first, he then screams himself. Or heck, even if I give the screaming child second shrift? He still screams when I give someone else attention.

So, my nights are about to get easier. I have, for the past 2 nights, lain in bed listening to the varying cries of my daughter, and she is inventive I must add. I have struggled, felt guilty, analyzed every nuance of those cries, because she changes them up just to throw me off. And yet, she is alive in the morning. Smiling, happy. And we are both more rested. What a freaking paradox children are. Now the trick is to find all the other ways they are fooling me. Think I stand a chance?

Not a Top Chef I

Cooking. This is the bane of my guilt stricken existence. When am I going to start cooking for my kids? Right now their meals consist of lots of pasta and noodles and sandwiches, soup, fruits, applesauce and yogurt, and some oatmeal and smoothies too. All of which requires perhaps a 10 minute boil on the stove max. Most of which is microwaveable. How pathetic.

I keep meaning to whip out the casserole recipes thinking I could logically make them and me dinner at the same time and have leftovers. However, I haven't really cooked in years. My husband always worked later than I eat dinner, so when I first moved to SF I used to work hard and make him dinners and require him to be home 3 days a week to eat them. Well, that just stressed him out. Then I'd make dinners that did well in the reheat, but that was less than satisfying because essentially I was cooking for just myself. I find that a thankless and unnecessary act. I'm perfectly happy eating take out and frozen dinners by myself. Why cook?

When the babies were just starting to eat I was willing to steam up and puree a bunch of stuff, because, again, that's pretty stinking easy. A lot of machines to do the job for me pretty much. But I sure thought that by now I'd be cooking. I've had several false starts, shopped and bought chicken and ground beef and turkey, as well as herbs and veggies and cans of creamed soups. All sits and rots. Where am I supposed to find the energy? If they're happy with pasta and soup and I'm happy with take out, who cares?

Me. I feel like a failure of a mom on this one. I don't expect to make everything they eat from scratch, I'm no earth mother. I just expect to, maybe 4 times a week, turn on the oven and use a pan and throw at least 5 ingredients together in it and bake it. Good lord it doesn't sound that hard does it?

Blessings in three

Ok, it's time to thank the good spirits that I have three happy, healthy triplets in my life. I am blessed. Sure, they are sick again. Sure, it might be hand, foot and mouth disease (oh that's a real disease folks!) but overall we are strong, mentally and physically.

I can't be funny because several of my triplet mom friends are struggling with new developments in their triplets' lives. They all love their kids as much as I do mine, and they will love them regardless of what pops up but one has to feel extremely lucky to come through the multiple birth process with three completely healthy kids.

There are so many things that can go wrong. And in addition, when you have 3 at once, your statistical chances of having one with a genetic defect are higher than when you have one, right? So it's scary. You could get a mixed bag genetically, and then, since they are usually born premature you have damage due to that, developmental delays, physical damage during the birthing process, etc.

So many things could have 'gone wrong.' But I ended up with three wonderful, bright, healthy kids. I am counting my blessings today. That's all I've got to do.

speak!

Why is it I'm the only one NOT hearing my children say words. My mother in law, husband, nannies, and apparently everyone else are convinced they've heard words come out of my childrens' mouths and all I can think is...."wishful thinking." I hear a close approximation of a syllable that may or may not be them imitating what's coming out of your mouth but I wouldn't call it a word folks. You say 'shoe' A says 'so' or 'sho' and you call that saying 'shoe?' Hmm.

Am I just too hardline? Should I accept a marginal syllable as a word? I mean we are getting pretty desperate here with almost a year and a half gone by and not a word to be found. Other than the usual 'mama' and 'dada' which can be used for at least half a dozen different things other than mom and dad. Sure, triplets take their time and it's quite clear that they understand one another and follow directions and know the parts of their bodies, so I know they aren't 'slow.' But this lack of words is starting to drive me nuts. I keep counting down to their 18 month dr appointment saying we have to get some words by then or we're going to look bad!

I do not want to need intervention, my kids are clearly smart, but perhaps we're just so good at interpreting what they need without words that they have little need to try them. Sigh. Is it time to whip out the flash cards? I am so not a high pressure mom and our pediatrician is just the same and always makes me stop worrying but come on kids! I need a word! Not just 'ba' for ball, I need a complete word like 'up' or 'baby.'

Speak dammit! Speak!

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?

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 happy....you 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.

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,

Mira

Funkariffic

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...

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...

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.

ACHOO!

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?

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!

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.