The man, the legend, J-dogg

So, in my final of three mostly unread blog entries, here's Mr. J:

He tends to look angry or drooly in almost every picture so I have a hard time finding casual ones to use. He's not as into being photographed as my other two, definitely does not want a career in show business and doesn't run towards the camera the minute I pick it up. This little boy is definitely the baby (for now) and loves mommy a little more than the other grown ups in the room. He takes his time to warm up to people but once he does warm up to you you'd never call him shy. He is just more suspicious of strangers. But he's not really a snuggly one, he just wants to sit in my lap.

He loves dress up, hats of all kinds and for a while he loved a giraffe costume we have. That ended after Halloween when we forced him into it because he suddenly didn't want to wear it. Ah well. But he loves putting on layer after layer of costumes until he looks like a homeless person in winter. I don't know what that's about. He hates getting anything stuck to his fingers and will come over to you to clean off his hands when you can't even see what it is that is bothering him. He knows the difference between chocolate chip and vanilla animal crackers and you'd better give him chocolate chip. He is definitely a sugar addict already. Sorry for being a sucky mom kid.

He has a great 'watchoo talkin bout Willis' face that he inflicts on new people and anyone who is doing something that doesn't make sense to him. He's funny as heck when he laughs and will make you do whatever it is that is funny over and over again so he can laugh some more. But he really likes his routines. He wants to put on his jacket before he goes downstairs, no matter your explanation that you're going in the car and not outside. He wants some warning before anything changes, and that's fair because he doesn't get to control much does he? He also wants to be the first down the stairs but also be the only one on the stairs and will defend his territory to the death (or until we intervene and make him go down the durned stairs now!)

He came out the smallest, having been wedged up against my diaphragm all bunched up without room to expand. But he's now the largest (by a slim margin) and the most athletic. When he runs you can see the football player and he can throw overhand and catch and do all those coordinated things that amaze. If he wants to, I think he's going to be a great athlete. But who knows if he'll want to?

I know he's going to struggle with the new baby situation seeing as how my lap is 2/3rds his most of the time. He isn't a momma's boy, he just likes having access to me. And I lap up the attention of course. How can it not be gratifying to have a kid really prefer you. He has had the most nightmares and night terrors and so I've felt more concern about what he's scared of than the others. I think that even though he's a leader at play with his siblings, he's going to struggle with new situations like school and making friends. But I'm sure that if he's given a chance people will love him to death like I do.

And that's my little cowboy. He's the sensitive, suspicious, kind, funny, imaginative, athletic tough guy!

The brilliant Mr. B

Continuing in the triplet personality introductions:

This little blond man is clearly on his first ride as a human. It's hard to explain but the difference between the way he approaches the world and the other two make it clear he's never done this before. He just seems more clueless and curious and much more surprised by it all. He is the middle child, and as such I think he does have to fight harder for attention. He's not the responsible oldest nor the baby of the family. Supposedly middle children are peace keepers but I haven't seen any of that yet. What he is is totally full of mischief.

He has that thing going that is terribly dangerous for us parents, by which I am referring to the fact that you can be totally mad at him and all up in his face and he just smiles. That smile? Will knock you over with laughter every time. You have to do the fake cough/yawn/retch thing to cover the fact that you are about to explode while attempting not to smile. He knows too. He knows he's cute, he knows people smile back when he smiles at them and his smile is just beyond your imagination. It lights up the room. It has from the beginning been a special smile that just brings joy to your heart. I can't describe it adequately, let's see if I can find a picture.

That'll have to do but the camera doesn't apparently capture the smile very often. He's a very happy boy most of the time. I wouldn't advise being the one who wakes him from nap, but other than that? Happy boy. He had the most interventions in the NICU but none of my kids had much. He just looked like a little old man for a while instead of a baby and needed the bilirubin lights for jaundice and a little more oxygen. He resided on my right side during the pregnancy, all stretched out and comfy I suspect, oblivious to A's headstand and J's being crammed up top. He was more needy as a baby when it came to getting to sleep but we've established by now that he's just a night owl. He messes around in bed for at least an hour after the other two pass out but my bet is he'd sleep in in the mornings if he had the option.

This boy of mine is just snuggleicious if you ask me. He loves to be tickled, loves it! Will come back again and again for neck tickles, which I don't understand at all. But it makes him giggle in the most delightful way, so you gotta do it. He is a little slower physically than the other two, less coordinated and I suspect it's from my side of the family. We were not fast or talented on the field. Ever. He also gets the worst of every cold or flu. Tends to barf more, snot more, cough more. Seems as strong as the others but his body takes the insult worse for some reason. He also is talented at screaming until he makes himself barf. I'm not sure that one will pay off in the long run.

Overall, he is a joy to have around. He is going to be a good loyal friend and be fearless in general (watch him leap off of tables and you'll see) while also wanting lots of affection and appreciating discovering new things any time they are around. I look forward to watching him find his footing in this family since now there will be two middle kids!

Kid? You'd better listen.

Dear son B,

I have to write this letter to warn you that you are on borrowed time. Should you spend another whole afternoon driving me berzerk by doing every possible thing you're not supposed to and making your brother and sister and yourself cry 816 times to be exact I might have to let you go. I mean honestly kid. Do you want to live to see your 2nd birthday? With me? Because it's looking mighty shady right now.

No, you do not have a special dispensation to stick your fingers into every interesting thing in the house particularly on days when Grandma is away. No, it is not ok to take EVERY toy away from your siblings EVERY time they choose to play with ANYTHING. No, it is also not wise to throw a tantrum every time I remove said stolen toy and return it to the rightful player of the moment. It is especially not recommended to sit on my lap and push away any attempts by your brother or sister to approach within arms reach of me. I am their mother too. Every single minute of the day.

Also? When I get distracted? Tearing crap out of the damned pop up books? NOT OK. I am so sick and tired of taping books back together and looking sadly at the remnants of some beautiful books I thought we would treasure for years that I am pretty close to never buying another book for the rest of your life. And I love books. It will make it awfully hard for you to get through school without books, but it would be a heck of a lot cheaper for me and much less stress on my nerves, which get a bit jangled at the sound of tearing paper these days.

My dear middle child, this behavior I have witnessed lately is unseemly. It is also dangerous to your health. When my voice runs out and I can no longer yell? You may find yourself put out at the bus stop. You're cute, blonde, blue eyed and chubby. You'll be well loved. Perhaps they will have a house full of destructible books and nooks and crannies they don't mind you crawling into and finding ways to kill yourself in. Perhaps you'd rather not be a triplet anyways? I'm just sayin'.

So, for the last time, let's go a little easy on mom when she's alone for the afternoon with you, especially when she's had to spend the morning wasting her time trying to help her stubborn old bat of a mom and so her nerves are a wee bit already over the edge. I know you just want attention and yes, I do appreciate that you have figured out that tantrums don't work on me so you don't even try them, but you could get positive attention by just handing me a book and letting me read it to you and possibly another kid who lives here? Wouldn't that be better than a purple faced mom? Any day?

Just a helpful recommendation,
Love your ever lovin' mom

Ha ha ha, oh. Damn.

It's hard not writing the same thing twice in a blog when you blog almost every day. I just finished a lovely rant about not cooking only to remember I had already done that a month ago. Nothing new in the recent one, so out it goes. Perhaps it was therapeutic to write it again. Still not cooking though. Clearly little improvement despite the encouragement of friends and 'easy' recipes from my triplet mom friends.

I guess that my concerns are limited these days. Perhaps there's a consistent small collection of things on my mind that rotate regularly. Guilt over not cooking, guilt over not spending enough time with the kids, guilt over using tv sometimes when the kids are too grumpy to stand, guilt over x y and z. Great list. No wonder I'm not funny anymore.

Where are the poop stories? The boogers have stopped so I can't even write about snot. My kids are apparently too well behaved right now, despite A's attempt to create the great flood in her crib the other night. It just doesn't make a whole blog entry. My pregnancy has become somewhat uneventful. You can only write about boobs, flatulence, sleep disturbances and ass growth so many times. So what's going on world? Are you trying to show me that my life is pretty boring? I mean even my mom hasn't given me any good stories as of recent. And she's usually a whole novel of crap unto herself.

Well I guess I'll just close my eyes and rest then. If my life is so serene and positive, other than the intense guilt mom factor, then I might as well quit trying to be funny. Maybe then my life will get funny again?

Scary Mommy

I seem to have perfected the scary mommy routine. That does not mean it's always effective. But when it is? It's gooooood.

When B decided to climb over his pack n play crib edge and wander to the top of the stairs in our vacation home the other night, I first got scared. Then I got mad. The second time he jumped out of bed while I was waiting in the hall, I got mean. I stuck my face so close to his and I told him never, ever to do that again. Apparently it worked. I also removed the mattress from his crib as well as any stuffed animals which could be used as stair steps to get out of bed. But the next night when I put it all back in? He stayed put.

Yesterday, when all three of my children were fighting over every single thing, including every toy they had not seen in 10 days upon returning to my house and had, within 20 minutes, driven mommy completely over the edge? I revved up the mean mommy and hollered. Wouldn't you know it? They stopped what they were doing. Stared at mean angry mommy. Made me feel like crap. Then went right back to what they were doing. But at least I know I can get their attention.

Sometimes.

Other times its like I'm talking to the wall. I could scream at the top of my lungs and not a reaction could be seen. Not a twitch of an ear. Not a turn of the head. Which does not make mommy quieter.

So, perhaps we're at 50/50 success rate with the mean mommy act. I just have to force myself not to use it too often as we are moving into prime defy mommy age. Otherwise it will lose its power. Such that it is....

Homecoming

Well, we made it. 10 days in the sweltering/freezing mecca of nothing that is Forestville on the Russian River. When we first arrived, as you could tell by my post, the house seemed like a disaster. I always amazes me how photographers know how to make a place look huge and then you get there and it's a box. I was horrified to find a tiny living room, dirty floors, dark bedrooms and so on. But the house grew on me after a bit. It turned out to work out ok in terms of layout. Childproofing was a bit hard but we figured things out and we settled in. The kids really didn't even act funny the first night or day like it was strange we were in a new place. I was shocked, but I guess we tired them out at the pediatrician that morning so they went to sleep and slept well. The best a mom can hope for the first night at a new place.

I am wondering how to make this blog funny. So far, just ho hum.

I think I'll have to be funny starting tomorrow when I start relating anecdotes of our trip. Suffice it to say, plenty of funny things happened and some unpleasant ones too, but not many. I learned that I can survive days upon end without a nanny, although I had a lot of help obviously. I bonded better with the kids, although I may have been witnessing the beginning of separation anxiety as J spent 70% of his time in my lap and whimpered at the door to the kitchen when I was in there. We had some major behavior issues with B who has become quite defiant, but let's cross our fingers that its a phase. A is definitely hyper active and literally can not sit still if she's not sleeping. God help us all.

I've been struggling with coming back here and going back to the routine of letting someone else have the 'fun' part of the day with the kids most days. I mean we go out and do things in the morning with the kids, not much in the afternoon. The other option is to start doing things in the afternoon but if they nap well there's only an hour and a half before dinner really. What can we do in that amount of time? And I get so slow having run errands myself all morning, its hard to do something with all three kids in the afternoon. On vacation we did stuff in the mornings and let the kids play on the deck in the water table or pool in the afternoons. I sat and recovered from the morning. I then had energy to cook actual meals in the evenings. If I run all day? Not a chance I'll make it. So then I'd have to take the whole day with the kids in order to do the fun stuff with them. But I can't really do it alone. Going to the zoo with three mobile kids sounds like ultimate stupidity. And I can't see myself making the nannies take me with them since they'd probably rather hang out with their other nanny friends.

I don't know. I am only going to get more pregnant and less able as time goes on. Another thought I had was taking one kid at a time some mornings of the week for one on one time. I am not sure if they would miss each other or not. Perhaps they prefer each other to me? You just never know.

So, I return with much to reconsider and think about. But it was lovely to put the kids to bed and then have a great deck with a view to sit on and watch nature. As long as you were willing to ignore the trucks and semis and motorcycles with no mufflers that were constantly filling the quiet air with their noise pollution. We won't come back to this place but we will find a place nearby and without traffic noise to return to. All in all, a successful trip!

What can you say?

We go for our one and a half year check up on Friday. We love these particularly because it gives the pediatrician a chance to laugh at my paranoid mommy questions and make me feel like my kids are doing just fine. At least for a day. But we have a problem. We don't talk yet.

I mean A has 2 or 3 words, B has the same, and J? Well he's never in a hurry to do anything first so he sure isn't going to say anything first. He says one word reliably: ball. Without the 'll' of course. I got him to say 'bear' once although it was just a variation on the ba sound since the 'r' isn't going to come so easily. A and B say 'baby' which I think is due to the nanny bringing her baby along most days to care for them. And B definitely likes saying "no" which so far we maintain is a fun word and seems slightly meaningless to him. Tonight at dinner he and I went into a rousing chorus of "no's" while we both laughed. I hope to keep fooling him that it's a fun word for a long time yet.

I'm beginning to believe there are some happy accidents that may be the beginning of words though. Every once in a blue moon B repeats "thank you" back to the person who said it to him. But try as you might, he will never ever ever say it again. Until some time the next week when he feels like it. So you never quite believe you've heard it. But wouldn't it say something about his mommy if one of his first words was "thank you?" I think I'd claim all the credit.

So what if the doctor says we're behind? What if we have to go in for testing? I like children who excel. Well, who doesn't? So far we've been the biggest, tallest babies and I've taken that like they are exceeding expectations. Like growth patterns are some kind of achievement I can take credit for. But honestly? With all the guilt I carry as a mom? Let me take credit for something I'm doing right. I mean clearly I'm feeding them well and not pounding them on the heads with a mallet to keep them small. That's a good thing right?

So I walk in with trepidation. Maybe he'll say that it's normal for triplets to be this behind. Maybe he'll suggest testing isn't a bad idea, just to make sure. Maybe the shots wont hurt. A girl can dream.

Slacker Sunday photo

Friends?

Er, maybe not.

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.

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?

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!

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

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.

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.

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.

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.