I can't think of an interesting title for this post...

I was driving somewhere today (I actually can't remember where right now - how pathetic) and had a hopeful glimpse of what the future will look like for Chez Laird: the local high school girls' cross country team was on a training run and it was a short stride to envision one (or all 4 - dare I dream?) of my kidlets joyfully bounding along with teammates every day after school.


The high school our kids will attend has a great cc tradition and, while I know I can't make any of the crumbgobblers run, I have hope that one of them will. Please, oh, please. There's something magical about watching 100+ athletes, toes on the start line, anxiously waiting for the gun. It's silent. The trees are changing colors. The temperature is in that perfect range that allows for a long-sleeved t-shirt and shorts. Sometimes it's raining and that's even better.

Anyway, I was driving and saw the 30+ members of the girls' team, all chatting to each other on their 5-mile run, having the best time together, and I hope someone else in my family gets to experience that.

Oh, To Have A Nanny...

...to unload the kids on for days like today. AC was about one more mini-tantrum away from discovering her own mortality and the wee ones all ganged up on The Mommy in one big sobbing, drooling, spewing, clawing, scratching, hair-yanking-out-of-my-ponytail (can't STAND that!), mess. They're in cahoots.

Classic AC (the first kidlet)

AC packing for me

Our oldest is hilarious and quirky, as most people probably believe about their firstborn. She was the product of 6 years of prayer and way too much infertility treatment and she provides a whole lot of entertainment and stories. She also provides a lot of frustration and that is because she is 3 going on 30. Anyhow, there will be occasional posts about something goofy she has done and this is one...mostly to stick in my memory and for those who know her well.

AC decided to pack for me for my trip to Nashville. She likes to pack suitcases, mostly because it's a great way to express her need for organization. She LOVES to organize things and she actually does it well. I let her pack for me (after I got what I really needed in there) because it kept her busy for 45 minutes while I fed the trips lunch. It seemed heavy when I carried it downstairs, but I didn't have time to go through it to take everything out. She would have noticed me doing this anyway and then the world would have ended. It just wasn't worth it.

When I opened up my suitcase that night, I laughed so hard and would have taken a picture right then if I had remembered my camera (curses!!). Each compartment held something different and "necessary": all my brushes, 4 different lotions, q-tips, tampons and pads, notecards, about $1.25 in change, fingernail polish, saline solution, dental floss, one of those mardi-gras-type necklaces from St. Patrick's day, nursing bra pads, an extra shirt, lots of extra underwear, pj's (which I don't wear anyway...that sounds bad...it's just that I'm the classic t-shirt/shorts sort of girl), and some winter socks which also did not match. I kept the pile of stuff and took a pic when I returned (minus the couple things most guys don't care to see):

That's my girl. She'll be one of those people you want with you when you travel because she will pack for every possible situation...even if you need nursing bra pads.

Brace Yourself For Some Whining...

I'm tired of:

1. Not having time to go for a run
2. Eating the same amount of food all the time even though I'm NOT running
3. My clothes not fitting properly because I'm NOT RUNNING
4. Actually having time to run last night, but it was raining
5. Summer is ending and Darkness is arriving earlier and earlier = less opportunity to go for a run because I'm a huge chicken and afraid of the crazies who lurk the dark, even though we live in the safest city in our area and nothing would happen
6. Feeling junky and gross because I'm not running

I don't really enjoy any other form of exercise. I've been running for 23 years now and it is one of my main forms of stress relief. I get a lot of life sorted out while running (I refuse to listen to music) and it's probably one of the reasons why I've managed to stay out of therapy for so many years. I LOVE LOVE LOVE my children, but I would be a better mother if I had time to escape a bit.

*KJ - I know you'll read this and get all over my case about how I need to make more effort to get out...I'm doing my best and thanks for caring about me. :)

Road meanderings

As previously mentioned, my husband surprised me with a mini-break from life here with a trip to Nashville to visit a friend. It was wonderful and definitely helped fill my empty spiritual well which had been dry for months. I think I've tried to keep in touch with my friend, KJ, because she is the kind of person who challenges me to rethink the aspects of my life where I don't feel change is necessary. I don't feel any walls with her (I could be wrong, but that's my perception) and that isn't terribly common in my life. It isn't absent in my world here, but how often do I have time to spend, alone in conversation, with these friends?
The actual point of this post, however, is that I was forced to be alone with my thoughts for 10 hours in the car (especially when the cd player quit working on the way back. grrr...). It was awful and fabulous and has definitely helped with my attitude. Those close to me may disagree with this, but I willingly came to accept some things which had been upsetting to me these last few months. Issues that had actually hurt (this is hard to do to me) and still do, sort of. But the hurt is less because, in most cases, I haven't had time to give to others. Yes, yes, 4 kids ages 3 and under do not make giving simple, blah, blah, blah. Some people, even though they understand this, still don't really get it. They're great, but damage has been done and it's up to me to fix it. It's a long, bumpy road ahead, so pray for me as I slowly, slowly come out of the
kidlet cocoon and restart life. The story goes on.

Melancholy

I used to coach high school track and cross-country. I managed to do this when I had AC and it was so fun to bring her to practice - she thought she owned the high school where I coached. I wish I could bring all the kidlets, but nothing would get done and it wouldn't be fair to the athletes.

Anyway, practice for Fall sports started this past Monday and I really miss coaching. I miss my girls (even the ones that drove me bananas). I miss practice. I miss the anxiety/excitement/hope of the meets. I miss seeing my girls at the starting line, so proud of them for working so hard to get there, and I miss watching them finish the race, so proud of them for taking the risk of running harder than they ever had in their lives.

I'm a bit sad this week and can't wait until I coach again.

Olympic Fever

You know your husband has it when he's calling you in to see a replay of men's gymnastics (which he stays up late to watch the team finals) and he also stays up to watch the women's team. I would never hide my love for the Games, but this is cracking me up. I love you, baby!!

Viva Nashvegas

For our anniversary, J surprised me with a mini break - NO KIDS - to see a friend in Nashville. We had planned to come here this weekend as a family, but cancelled the trip after spending 11 1/2 hours in the car with the crumbgobblers to see family last month. With IV and MG crawling, climbing, opening drawers and generally leaving a house looking like a crime scene that would dupe even the best CSI agent, we realized we just can't subject non-family members to the Circus that is us. KJ (the friend) and her husband are 100% gracious and would have tolerated us, but J and I would have been stressed out the entire trip. Not worth it.

So, with a wee bit of separation anxiety, I set off a couple nights ago for a weekend of sleep and sunburn. It was fabulous to drive something besides the mini-van and there is nothing like driving down the highway and singing as loudly to whatever you want, sometimes talking out loud like a crazy person to God, sorting out some of the crudiness of your life. It's wonderful.

Wonderful until, when you are SO CLOSE to your destination, there are flashing highway signs telling you the exit you need to access the interstate you need to THE CITY YOU ARE TRYING TO ENTER is closed and there is a detour. Well, okay. Hmmm...no detour signs. Where the frick am I?? (only it's not frick - cursing under stress is an issue I have) Ummm...that doesn't look like a safe place to exit...neither does that...calling KJ...no one knows where I am. Exit on a reasonably safe part of who-knows-where to a Cracker Barrel with a chain-link fence around it. Great. After a painful conversation w/some randoms in Cracker Barrel, a customer finally helps out and tells me what road I'm on and sort of directs me towards the city. KJ's parents then come to the rescue and take me on the tour-de-Nashvegas on a route that was surely used by bootleggers during Prohibition and I safely arrive, over an hour later than planned.

Since then, all has been bliss and I've felt normal for the first time in over a year. I've slept in past 7-ish, eaten breakfast before 9:30 a.m., had lunch when I was hungry, and haven't had to change my clothes because one of the kidlets spit up all over me. I have started a book (I wasn't even sure I was still literate). I used a hairdryer for the first time in, oh I don't know. I went out for lunch. I haven't been able to stop thinking about the family and want to call every hour. I know they're okay, but they have consumed my life for so long now that I don't know what to do with myself when they aren't around. I am relaxed and loving this time away, but I miss home and all that is psycho with it. I miss the circus.

The Uninteresting Triplet Pregnancy/Birth Story

During my triplet pregnancy, I started reading lots of blogs from other triplet families. I was fascinated and comforted by their stories, especially from the women who were due about the same time I was. I wish now I had started blogging then, mostly because I have honestly forgotten a lot about that time period. Of course, part of the reason why I've forgotten is that it wasn't terribly interesting to begin with, especially since we had other craziness happening at the same time. So, here it is, 34 weeks, condensed into a couple longish paragraphs.

We obviously freaked in the ultrasound room when Mary, my very favoritist nurse who had been with us through all the horrible years of infertility, told us the news. She had gotten very quiet (never a good sign in the past) and was taking forever. Then the news "umm. hmmm. I'm counting 3". J and I laughed that nervous, sort of crazy laugh and then entered a peculiar world where you are well aware the path you are currently on just ends and there isn't a new one to take. You're in a random place without definition, without absolutes (yes, I realize there are no absolutes in life, just let me run with this), where the answers to your questions are often vague.
We talked to my ob, were given all the statistics (not that great) and sent on our way to just...wait. We called the very few people who knew we even did a FET (frozen embryo transfer), who all laughed the hysterical laugh we did with a few expletives occasionally chucked about.

There were lots and lots and lots of visits to: the specialist (loved him), regular ob (also loved him), the Perinatal Center at the hospital (really loved them), blah, blah, blah. J and I are very aware that we had a textbook triplet pregnancy (if there is such a thing) where there really never was any news or action required. I did develop a mild case of gestational diabetes and got a seriously NASTY rash where I ended up sleeping in the bathtub a few nights. That's about it. The stress of the pregnancy came from: making sure our then 2 1/2-year-old was taken care of, praying I could be at her 3rd birthday party (I was) and, oh yeah, we were putting on a now necessary large addition to the house. I didn't have a kitchen for a few months, or a bathroom on the first floor, or any running water on the first floor. It totally sucked. The good part was that the babies always looked great, I never had any of those major contractions, and was never on total bedrest. I voluntarily, with a lot of whining, finally submitted and checked into the hospital which was the most horrible part of the whole gig. I wasn't at home, AC cried when she and J left that night, I cried and cried and cried. Such a baby. So many other triplet moms would have maimed to stay off bedrest and here I was freaking out after making it to 34 weeks at home, walking around. That was Wednesday, October 17th and my water broke around 2:30 a.m. October 19th. I had rolled over to get out of bed and go to the bathroom when it happened, immediately called the nurse who asked "are you sure you just didn't wet the bed?". What the frick?????!??!?!?! I think a monkey would know the difference between urinating all over yourself and your water breaking. I remember sort of laughing and telling her I didn't wet the bed and, of course, there were several people in my room in 2 seconds. One of the cool things about that night was that an old friend of ours was doing her residency at our hospital and she was on duty that night. It was so awesome to see her walk in. Everything else is sort of surreal from there because it happened so fast. I remember J walking in with the camera bag, finally being allowed to use the toilet (absolute relief), a nurse not getting it that "no, I don't want to keep my pillow from home that has amniotic fluid all over it" (so grody), the nurses messing around with trying to strap on the heartrate monitors for the babies and finally giving up, the wonderfulness of the epidural, and then, by God's grace, my healthy babies arriving:
In order:
Baby A: IV, 5 lbs even
Baby B: EL, 4 lbs, 10 oz
Baby C: MG, 4 lbs, 13 oz
I don't remember too much of the delivery because the epidural meds always make me feel like I'm going to hurl and I couldn't really focus on what was going on. That's a bummer, but I can deal. I felt so bad that they put EL to my face so I could give her a kiss and I couldn't do it because I didn't want to throw up on her. So sad. MG did have a bit of oxygen for an hour (?) afterwards, but that's it and I know how fortunate that they were all relatively large and strong. I really need to write about post-delivery, because that was when life got sort of sucky for a week or so. Maybe in a few days.

What's Our Co-pay??

What a random day. EL had her 9 month check-up (we took the trips to separate appointments and it was SO MUCH EASIER!), which turned out fine. I felt so bad; she was so happy to have just mommy time, was all smiles for everyone she saw, and then she gets a couple shots. It's funny how they all react differently to shots: AC was just sad, but is now stoic at age 3, EL is heartbreakingly sad, as if we hurt her feelings, IV sticks his lip out and then screams murder, and MG is MAD and starts kicking at the poor nurse. She's got a temper, that one.

Anyway, I finally get home, say goodbye to my friend-I-can't-do-without who was watching IV and MG, say hello to SuperBabysitter M, who was watching AC, go to the minivan to get $ to pay SuperBabysitter, and when I come in IV has a gash above his left eyebrow. He slipped on something and introduced his head to the corner baseboard. Sigh. Off to the ER (and decided 1/2-way there to turn around and go to the nearby Urgent Care - better choice). IV fell asleep along the way with the bloody side of his head leaning on the carseat. At least it stopped the bleeding. No stitches, just some of those steri-strip thingies and a developing shiner. I have the feeling we're going to be regulars at this place...

IV and the first of many headwounds

Add the fact that it's as hot at all get-out, AC had a couple freak-outs because she's 3 1/2, and it was a glorious, glorious day. There have been worse...