Good Times

Dad here for the second time….ever.

I do not intrude on my wife’s blog space unless I have a good reason. I had a very profound Daddy moment this evening and thought it needed to be shared.

Tonight was a special night for big A. All the Dads were invited up to her preschool to carve pumpkins with their kids. I did this last year and it is a very nice way to spend some quality time just with A. I was excited and I’m pretty sure she was too.

My moment came just after we arrived. There were a lot of people in the main area where we were going to carve the pumpkins and it was noisy. A is typically very shy and reserved in these situations and this was no different. As we sat on the floor to begin our project, A unexpectedly crawled into my lap and snuggled up close. That in itself was great but then I noticed she was whispering something under her breath. I was straining to hear her but it was just too noisy. I think I asked her to repeat herself 2 or 3 times with no luck. Finally I leaned in right next to her face and made one last request for her to repeat her words.

“I love you Daddy” was all she whispered in my ear. That was more than enough. Completely voluntary, tender, and genuine from my little girl. My heart…instantly melted.

I love you too Princess.

Welcome To Toddlerhood!

Happy 2nd Birthday, Babies! (LONG, long post. Consider yourself warned.)

I can't call you "babies" or "wee ones" or "crumbgobblers" any longer. Well, the crumbgobbler part of you is still in effect, but you are now also crumb-distributors. At least this makes you efficient.

You are all so unbelievably different and yet have bonded in spite of having little in common except your tripletness. I like to listen outside your door when you wake up from a nap, loving how you crack each other up with some weird joke you created together. Oh, how I wish we had a video-monitor sometimes. I love how you have little conversations with each other all day and how social you are. I love how you enjoy being with each other, torment each other, and fight and love like crazy.

So here you all are, at age 2.

Johnny: aka "The Boy", "Nonny" (from the little sisters), and lately, your full given name, yelled by your older sister when she's discovered something naughty you've done. We hear that one often.

You are my sweet boy. You are supremely cuddly and you don't know a stranger. Everyone at the grocery store knows you because you yell "HI!!" and "BYE!!" to all who work there. And all the customers.

Lizzy is your co-conspirator in most deeds. Yesterday, in the course of an hour you: climbed out of your bed, was found standing in the kitchen sink turning the water on and off, and was discovered sitting on top of the changing table. Fortunately for you, God designed you with a million-dollar smile that will charm everyone but Mom and Dad. And your sisters. You do a little spin-move-jig when you're happy and, don't worry, I'm embarrassed for you. Your dad says you're conflicted because you are amazing at walking in heeled princess shoes while carrying one of your trucks.

One of my favorite moments of the year: you were sitting on the couch when it was announced we were going to Fooz's house to play. You literally jumped off and as you raced to the back door to find your shoes, you stopped, grabbed Gracie with a big ol' bear hug, twirled her around, and set her down again to continue on.

You are joyful. You are intuitive and naturally exhibit empathy. You are already strong and I pray for you to also be brave and true. And I love you because you are mine.



Lizzy: "Lizzy Lou Lou", "Izzy Woo Woo" (from Gracie), and "Lllllizzy!" (from Nonny)

Oh, Lizzy. You are my constant surprise. Seven months ago I was praying and praying that what we were hearing from people wasn't true. That my concerns about you were unfounded, that we were all wrong.Well, what we were hearing was not true and we were 95% wrong. It is wonderful. You are wonderful.

A serious countenance hides a funny kid who, like her brother, does not have a stranger in her world. If any of us is a little down and needs some unconditional love, you are the go-to kid, always willing to give a hug, a kiss, a cuddle. You have a serious temper, but you come by that honestly so it can be handled.

Favorite Moment of the Year: The day you figured out the whole walking gig. You had taken steps here and there and were starting to put them together, but one day when we were at a playground you acted as if you'd been walking around for months. It was the start of what your dad and I call "when Lizzy woke up". The start of when our anxiety about you began to dissipate.

You are (mostly) sweet. You have that look of an old soul. I have no doubt you could stare down a tiger. You delight in making your siblings laugh. And I love you because you are mine.



Gracie: "Gracie Grace-Grace", "Gracie Mae" (from Miss Dianne and it's caught on, so much so that you sometimes call yourself that), "Mouse" (from Fooz)

We joke about how you, our little blonde, blue-eyed, dimply girl are the product of major recessive genes on the outside, but inside you are cut from the same cloth as your older sister. It's actually a little frightening for your dad and I because we know what we're going to get from you: brilliance and quirkiness and loads of drama. Fortunately we have been well schooled in all that is you and are prepared.

Girl, you are just funny and you know it. You like to make up jokes that your siblings and I laugh at and then you'll repeat them at the oddest times, just for entertainment's sake. Your favorite is to say words in a funny way, throwing your tummy forward and your head back. You will play chase all_day_long. You are so, so loud. And the crocodile tears. Oh my.

Favorite Moment of the Year: I think it was the day you learned your colors. You are so much like your sister in that you desire to know things. We were sidewalk-chalking on the driveway and you directed me to draw different colored circles, which you would then ask me to review. In 5 minutes you were pointing at every one and correctly naming the colors. So serious for my little clown.

You are honest. You have an enormous sense of humor. You are witty. You are so, so sharp. And I love you because you are mine.

We've Got To Hold On, Ready Or Not

John and I are watching a Bon Jovi documentary right now and I.am.dying. It's nearly midnight and I've been trying to work on a few posts and now I'm struggling. I'm struggling because it's taking everything I have to not crank up our cd's and dance around the house and sing like the crazy nerds fools we are. If it wouldn't wake up the kids, I would be reliving 1988: driving to a meet with the cross country team, torturing my coach by singing to anything by Jon Bon Jovi as loudly as adolescently possible.

I'll just leave you with this, just please ignore the hair:

Livin' On A Prayer

Freak Out

That's almost what I did when I happened to check on the happenings in my house while changing a nasty diaper. I looked around, ready to verbally squelch any shenanigans, and saw Lizzy in the kitchen holding on to this:



Eight inches.
One hand was on the handle and one was on the blade.
Heart panic.
Okay, stay calm.
Don't flip out and scare her.
Can't leave a kid covered in feces on the changing table (where he WILL fall off - that's a given) and yet I need to get to her before there's a horrible, horrible, accident.
Pray, pray, pray.
Finish the diaper in .5 seconds which seems like 5 minutes.
Calmly walk to Lizzy and equally calmly have her give the knife to me.
She does.
I finally feel physically ill from the thoughts of what could have happened.

One day she wasn't tall enough to reach the knife drawer and the next day she was. There is no longer a "knife drawer".

We Need A Cow

Some people in my life asked me awhile back how much milk we go through in one week and I always answered with my best guesstimate. I eventually got curious myself and kept a log (sounds fancy - it really was just some hash marks on a post-it) for one week. The result?

We go through 8 of these bad boys a week:




Good grief. Sorry about the college fund, kids. You drank it away.

Dancin'

I'm pretty sure I wish I could dance as well as The Backyardigans.

I try, but I can't.

Classic Kitty

The following story is a perfect example of me:

The other morning I couldn't find my cell, so I did what every other normal person does and called it from the home phone. Right after I dialed, some wiring got loose in my brain and these were my thoughts/actions:

"Oh! Someone's calling my phone! How funny! No one calls me this early! And I was just looking for it! How convenient!"

Walk over to the backpack, where my cell was ringing.

Pick up my phone and the caller id says "Home".

"Hmm! Who is calling from home? Does John have a house phone downstairs? (he works in the basement) What would he need already? Maybe the kids did this. How did they do that???"

Keep in mind that I was holding our home phone in my hand as I was confused.

I hung up my cell, turned off the handset, and didn't figure it all out until about 45 seconds later.

I am such a doofus.

Is It Me, Or Is This Odd?

So I subbed teaching 1st grade Sunday School for a friend of mine yesterday. Don't worry - she co-teaches and the other "real" teacher was there. I was just a presence/bathroom monitor. But that is not the point.

The point is that we were all chatting and the other "real" teacher was telling me about how her daughter recently acquired a black eye. This little boy pipes up with and "I had a black eye once!" story and proceeds to talk about his friend who has "anger management" issues.

I'm pretty certain six-year-olds should not have the combination of the words "anger" and "management" in their repertoire.

It's Pippi Longstocking, Tra La La La!

I usually don't mind what she puts on as long as she's dressing herself, and Ainsley is very capable of some interesting color/design combinations. But pink striped legging? With purple patterned socks and brown shoes? With the purple plaid-ish dress? Good grief.

A Little Pick-Me-Up

Last Thursday was one of those "I would love to crawl back into bed and sleep all day" days. It would have been so lovely. So near the very end of my bummer-day, when I'm checking my watch every 30 seconds to see if the time is even CLOSE to when John gets off work, I noticed I hadn't seen Lizzy in 2.5 minutes. No. Oh no.

Now, if Gracie and Ainsley are not in view I am not concerned. (Not because they are angels or anything, but they tend to make non-life-threatening or house-damaging choices). When I don't see or hear Johnny or Lizzy for a bit I start to panic.

I flew down the stairs only to startle Lizzy Lou, who was rummaging around a kitchen drawer, and when I startled her she stood up and cracked her head on the corner of the drawer. Instant and justifiable tears. She was only in a diaper and when she turned toward me for hugs I noticed this:



Just that day she had learned to open Ainsley's marker container and my eyes raced to the table where A had been coloring and...the container was closed. Hmm...thinking, thinking, thinking...no. No she did NOT! You see, Lizzy also recently discovered our junk drawer - home of a couple PERMANENT MARKERS. I felt sick and gave my house a glance-over to see any evidence of artistry. Hmph. Nothing but her tummy. Well, Good Job Lizzy! Way to contain the damage! Or so I thought until I opened the drawer where I noticed the marker she had used (and impressively replaced the cap upon when she put it back in the drawer - good girl!). It was then that Ainsley delightedly pointed out this:




Oh my stars, I laughed. It broke my mood and made my day bright enough that I didn't want to go to bed anymore. I wanted to stay with my crazy kids and chase them around the house and love on my life. And so I did. Thank-you, Sweet Lizzy.

Another Sigh (but it has all worked out).

We had joked about taping The Boy's diaper together for some time because he was constantly ripping it off and then going free willy throughout the house. Lizzy is the same way and neither can be trusted to run nakie because fresh air on those two tends to encourage spontaneous urination. The whole thing really wasn't that big of a deal until a couple weeks ago when I went in to get the three out of their beds after a nap and there was The Boy, face down and snuggled on his very wet blankie. There was a diaper in the corner of the bed. There was what can only be described as a large turd next to the diaper. It was so gross and my immediate thought was how thankful I was that there wasn't any feces on the walls or the bumper pads. I would have totally freaked about that. Inspired by another triplet mom, we brought out the duct tape.

So, The Boy is only allowed the privilege of regular (non-snap) t-shirts if there aren't any clean onesies left. He is rarely allowed to wear two-piece jams and we're in the waiting period until he figures out how to unzip his regular pj's. Since Lizzy is of the same mindset as her brother, she has also lost normal-diaper rights as well. Sigh.

Johnny. You can't tell, but he has two barrettes in his hair, per request.

Sweet Lizzy Lou.

We have to wrap the tape all the way around because my little Houdini's can still rip it off if there's only a strip in the front.

When does potty training begin?