Sometimes I'm Forced To Reflect. Not Sure I Like It.

Three babies were baptized this morning at our church, which means the odds of one of them crying were pretty good. One of them did and of course no one minded because it's such a wonderful thing to watch (we're water sprinklers, by the way, no dunking or pouring). It's wonderful to say "amen" when the congregation is asked to help raise these children.

Anyway, one of the babies did not enjoy the water part and, before the morning prayer which happened immediately after the baptism, one of our pastors commented and his words made me think. I don't especially like that; it's much simpler to breezily float through life. This is gist of what he said and apologies to Ben for the attempt (can't find the paper I wrote his words on).

We are like these infants here. They have no idea what just happened, just that water was just put on their heads for apparently no reason. Sometimes it is a thunderstorm and sometimes it is a sprinkle and sometimes we cry because we don't see the blessing that is in it.

I need to see the rainy blessing more often. The days are rare when I don't feel some sprinkling of water and there are a lot of thunderstorms, and my knee-jerk reaction is usually irritability. An example: Lizzy has a huge melon. Her pediatrician wanted to rule out anything (especially since her gross motor skills are behind the others), so we had an ultrasound on her head done a couple months ago. Several frustrating/rainy things happened:
1. It is not easy to find babysitting for 3 other kids during the day
2. The visit was, of course, during naptime = crabby child.
3. They were almost an hour behind schedule and they brought us back at the time I had told my sitter I would be home.
4. Lizzy screamed the entire time.
5. We were now VERY late to a birthday party for one of Ainsley's friends who did not live close by (we ended up being there for maybe 45 minutes and she loves, loves, loves going over there. It was not easy to leave.). I was on my second round of babysitting because I couldn't bring the crumbgobblers to a birthday party.

Everything was normal. The kid just has a big head and we hope she will grow into it someday.

So I was driving home, complaining to myself and God about what a waste of time it was, why did we have to go through a crappy day, why was it raining and cold, waah, waah, waah. Rain, rain, rain on my head. Then a brick smacked me broadside. I stopped. I felt sick because I realized I was whining about how my kid, my preemie, my sweet Lizzy (the biter), is healthy. All my kids are healthy. As far as we know, we're 4 for 4 and are crazy blessed (that word is so overused; I'm almost embarrassed to use it.). I had the audacity to be angry and I felt ill and ashamed because of it.

Solo deo gloria. Forever and ever.

Christmas Pics

Since it would have been a Sisyphean effort to get the crumbgobblers + Ainsley in one picture, we didn't even try. There's already too much self-inflicted frustration during the holidays and we weren't about to add more, at least not without several happy beverages. We did attempt individual pics though, and some turned out rather well. Too bad we can't photo shop everyone in together...maybe next year.

Ainsley

IV

Lizzy

Gracie

Merry Christmas!

Real Men Wear Princess Jewelry

You know your husband is one when he, with no coercion, agreed to play "Pretty, Pretty Princess" with Ainsley and me tonight. I did have to explain the rules a few times, though. It must have been too far into Girl-Land for his brain to compute. I wish I had a picture, but you will have to trust that he looked gorgeous in his necklace, earrings, ring, bracelet, and bejeweled crown. He did get to be the blue princess, therefore retaining an eensy-weensy bit of his masculinity.

Thank you, War Eagle Family, for the kids' presents. You are too generous with us.

Christmas Tree Solution/s

Remember our quandary? Success was achieved in two phases:

Phase One: Laird Circus style (makeshift)
Phase Two: What normal family whose young'uns are too small and numerous to police (and this one was suggested by an old friend).

The First Impenetrable Fortress (only because they couldn't figure it out - encouraging because it means we can still out-fox them).



The Second and More Aesthetic Line of Defense (I'm a little disappointed. Lizzy and IV only go up and give the cage and occasional shake. I thought for sure someone would climb it.)

You Know It's Time To...

...get rid of the exersaucer/bouncer thingy when you find your son doing this:



And then not two minutes later:


It was hard to loan it out. The little guy was so happy using it as some sort of newfangled gymnastics apparatus. Visions of ER visits successfully influenced our decision.

How 13 Month Olds Play Peek-A-Boo

It took us a bit to figure out what the girls were doing. We thought Lizzy was just tired or sad (sometimes she would even rest her head on her tray) and who knows about Gracie. The kid rarely covers her eyes during the game. If you're wondering about IV, he doesn't play. No worries, Ainsley was too cool for peek-a-boo, too.

Miss Lizzy. She would just randomly do this while they were eating...such a goofball.

Gracie. You can understand why it took a few days. It wasn't until she started flinging out her arms and occasionally getting one hand over an eye that we understood. Crazy girl.

A Helpful Hint

Please do not ask a parent of triplets if they:
a. used fertility
b. did in-vitro
c. had "help" (one of my favorites)
d. used medicine (what???)
e. did this "naturally" (another favorite)
f. were "surprised" (a back-door way to ask if fertility treatments were used)
g. there are more but I think the point has been made

I do not hide the fact that John and I did fertility treatments and I also do not mind if people automatically assume such. It just is not polite to ask. It requires me to provide a nice response to an invasive question, which goes against my horrible nature. It makes me want to ask about your sex life and your reproductive system so that you understand how incredibly rude you just were, even if you did not mean it and are just curious. It is okay to wonder if something as bizarre as triplets happened spontaneously (I do, too, when I see a set). It is not okay to open your mouth and have said wonder spew forth.

I would write more but then I would start sounding defensive and petty.

Deep breath...

Why Do Kids Notice This Stuff?

Warning - this post is highly uninteresting to anyone who:
a. does not know us personally
b. is not from our town
c. and...well...it just isn't that neat.

We live in an older part of our city. It was once a bedroom community and possesses all the stereotypes of such: huge trees, century homes mixed with cozy cottage houses and everyone LOVES LOVES LOVES to live here. They are know to be a bit kooky about it at times (no offense to SuperBabysitter or Joan - you know we are now brainwashed and will never move off our street). No one ever leaves and it seems (with the exception of us because we're newcomers) everyone either: went to your high school, dated your first, second, or third cousin, went to high school with your grandma/aunt/uncle/cousin, etc, etc. If you are forced to move away, your heart aches to get back and you do as soon as possible. There are always exceptions. It has been rumored that "some people" have left and actually enjoy living somewhere else.

Anywho, the majority of the homes have detached garages, so Ainsley thinks it is normal to have to unload groceries in the pouring rain and track lots of dirt into the house. The other day we were driving to my parents' house which is in a newer part of town (newer is relative - their home is nearly 40 years old) when all of a sudden she said:

"Why are all the garages out here attached to the houses??? That's silly! That doesn't make any sense!!! Why do they do that??"

I mean, heaven forbid. Someday she'll understand that we're the wierdos and we all secretly covet attached garages.

End Of An Era

For the last few months, the crumbgobblers were sucking dry 3x8 oz bottles/day. Every last drop is ingested and then I get all sorts of attitude when I refuse to give them more. The amount of formula we were plowing through was psycho. Gracie and Lizzy are officially on %100 milk now, however, and a couple nights ago we retired our mixin' pitcher we have used for 10 months. From the beginning, we felt it was easier to make all the formula at night and put bottles together so we could just grab out of the fridge (or "freeridgerator" as Ainsley would say).

I thought I'd add a photo of the whisk and pitcher we no longer need. At our peak, we were going through 3 1/2 cups dry formula per day (the water line is the black line at the top). It's a little crazy to think about and I hope I never, ever have to make that amount of formula at one time again.

Belated Thanksgiving Post

I wanted to do one of these before the holiday and did not because I wasn't able to clearly articulate my thoughts. You see, a lot about Thanksgiving as a national holiday is annoying to me. Those of you in my close circle of friends already know that many things annoy me (John - I know you used my fountain pen to write out a BAGEL list of all things the other night. Don't laugh, honey. It isn't funny. At least write some terrible haiku or something.) and, for some reason, Thanksgiving has been added to the list.

I am already aware this is not going to come across very well and I am going to look like a curmudgeon, but so be it. Those of you who know me well will thankfully just chalk it up as my general ridiculousness.* and **

Thanksgiving is personally frustrating because my conscience should not have to be seared by the federal government to be thankful for what I have whilst gorging on food. The cliche' Thanksgiving statements "I'm so thankful for my family, my friends, my health, blah, blah, blah" drive me insane. They make me feel more shallow than I already am. What I should be saying, not only to myself but to everyone around me, is that I am thankful I have been saved from myself. I am thankful someone like John decided to marry me in spite of my selfish and prideful nature. I am thankful that my sometimes wierdo family (not the kidlets or John) isn't as messed up as other people's wierdo families and we realize we are forever connected regardless of how much we send each other to the brink. I am thankful I am literally surrounded by friends who love me, my husband, and my kids so deeply they don't mind putting up with our shenanigans. I am thankful I was not born into poverty or abuse. I am thankful I have led a sheltered life full of privilege. I am thankful God loves me and my family and my friends even though we are all a mess.

Good grief. I need to chill out and just consider the holiday a fun vacation day with the fam.

That's the scoop and the post still is unsatisfactory for some reason. Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

*This is NOT meant to be a commentary on you. You all live and think more deeply than I.
**I still like all the stuff about the Pilgrims. Regardless of what the Revisionist Historians say about the feast, I'm still impressed of their bravery of abandoning everything they knew and going to a new world. Pretty amazing.

What The Heck??

I can only presume this is a bite mark. Lizzy, you need to either knock it off or start allowing me to catch you in the act. This is ridiculous, you sweet little ol' thing.

Feelin' Like A Grown-up

John and I went to a Christmas party last night! We were social! We laughed! We felt like talking to people we didn't know! It was wonderful. Thank you, Rachael and Frenchie for hosting a load of people. I confidently speak for everyone that it was awesome and necessary.



The picture is really only meant as a visual reference of our hosts. We have had the great fortune to vacation with them a few times, one of which when Rachael and I were pregnant with our first kidlets. We're slightly more svelte now. At least she is. :)

One of may favorite pics of Ainsley

in pink from head-to-toe, of course

Made My Day!

I am short. When I wake up, feelin' tall and stretched out, I am almost 5'1". By the end of the day I'm probably an even 5'. I can not count how many times I've had to ask for help at the grocery/target/whatnot to reach something on a shelf. I can not count how many times I have CLIMBED the shelves because there was no one to assist.

Today, however, was different. Today I was tall. Today I was an Amazon (sans rock-hard abs...sigh). Today I was a long, cool, drink of water. Today was AWESOME!!!

I was in the soup aisle at the grocery because the crumbgobblers inhale entire cans of Curly Chicken Noodle and we were out. Standing near me was a REALLY short lady. Call me a liar if she was over 4'9". And you know what happened?? SHE asked ME if I would kindly reach a can of Campbell's Beef Barley soup for her. "Oh! Of course!" I practically shouted at her in my mega-excitement. (In my mind I was yelling "OH MY GOSH! I CAN'T BELIEVE SOMEONE ASKED ME TO GET SOMETHING HIGH OFF A SHELF!!! AAAGGGHHHH! OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!!!") I was so beside myself I couldn't even find the freaking soup, even though they are displayed alphabetically (as you know).

There has been an extra skip-de-do in my step today and my heart even beat a wee bit faster as I was writing this.