Bedtime Ridiculousness

It started this past summer.

We were in Ohio for our summer visit and the four oldest shared a room for the first time ever.  Ainsley's been dying to have the girls move in with her, so we were curious about how this would play out.

The first night was typical.  Giggling, more giggling, moving around, books/lovies/pillows "accidentally" falling from the bed and therefore needing to be retrieved by getting out of bed, over and over and over again. 

Then it happened. Ainsley declared herself the Trips' Ambassador and started to personally escort them OUT OF THEIR ROOM to tell us something completely irrelevant or simply inform us they were going to go to the bathroom.  The bathroom was one door from their sleeping quarters.   They had to pass directly in front of it to find us downstairs.  We couldn't believe it.

Until then, I can't remember any of the triplets coming out of their room.  Occasionally we'd hear them jump out of bed, run to get something, then jump back in, but they NEVER left their room unless instructed and always called if they needed something.

And now?  Now we have this:

Thump, thump, thump down the stairs.

"Mommy, I can't find my doggie" (It was in her bed.  As.I.Had.Told.Her.) Or:

"Mommy, can you cover me up".  Or:

"Mommy, Lizzy said poop". Or:

"Mommy, I...uh...umm...umm...is tomorrow Saturday?".

And on. And on. And on.

So now we're in retraining mode, which means the rules have to be told and repeated back every night; a miniature family catechism.

Me: "When is it okay to get out of bed or come out of your room?"

Trips: "Only in an emergency."

Me: "And what is an emergency?"

Trips: "If we have to go potty, if we have to throw up, if the house is on fire, or if you and Daddy say we can."

Me: "Just call if you really need something.  We'll always come."  Because we do and it's important they know that.

Of course they feel the need to question what exactly constitutes and "emergency" and try, in vain, to offer up extra options (what if it floods? no. or we hear tornado sirens? no. if we hear a loud noise? no.)  We're three months out of the summer visit and I feel we're circling in on back-to-normal. I'm sure it will all go to pieces when the girls (+ Johnny as he has informed us "because I don't want to be alone") move into Ainsley's room. 

Work in progress.

The Good, The Typical, And Just Gross

Let's start with Just Gross.  I abhor vomit.  There isn't much else that gives me a violent case of the "ewwss" as vomit and with a truck load of kids in the house, the statistics are in favor of it presenting itself on a regular basis.  Right now a minor bug of some sort has taken its time seeking out all little ones in my care, and this is one of the side effects. The problem with this particular bug is that the vomiting comes out of nowhere.  No real warning (Lizzy excepted) and therefore no chance to act in preventing serious yuck in the house and therefore emotional damage to myself. You see, this virus-thingy is sneaky.  Symptoms? A little whiny, low-grade fever, slight runny nose, that's it.  Eating remains fairly normal, sleep habits are normal, etc.  And then?  WHAM!!!!  Just Gross.

They Typical?  Well. All of this nastiness started over a week ago with Ainsley and I was hoping, praying, it would either stop with her or race through the house quickly in order to have everyone finished with it by Thanksgiving.  Yesterday afternoon (the day before Thanksgiving), I was ignorantly checking off who had thrown up so far and was pleased that the two left rarely do so (Gracie) or had never (Annie in her short life).  Annie was a little goofy all day, clingy, but not entirely off her feed and was terribly impressed with herself at dinner for eating broccoli like a big kid.  Typical bedtime behavior for about 20 minutes and then...totally atypical.  I hate, hate, hate changing cribs from an episode and she did a thorough job.   John was thankfully home for this one...but then he left to hang out with a friend and not 7 minutes after he left, Gracie started that weird cough.  You know, the one where - if you have the level of vomit experience we do at Chez Laird - you just know it will not end well.  I made it up the stairs in time to almost make it.  Poor, poor Gracie.  And oh, so typical of when I get a little over-confident when we have something licked.  It always becomes so apparent we don't.

Where is The Good in all this mess? 
1. We were finished with everything before Thanksgiving.  Yay!
2. With this particular Yuck, the infected only throw up once.  Yay!
3. No carpet was affected.  Yay!
4. Lizzy's was outside on the patio (easy clean up - thank you Lizzy) and 15 seconds after a 40 minute car ride.  It would have been disastrous. Double Yay!

And that's how it goes around here. 

Fellow Parents, I Apologize

We were putting the Trips to bed tonight when the question was asked:

"Hey Mommy.  How do babies get out of Mommies' tummies?".

Ugh. I'm getting these already?

Sigh.

Of course I told them the truth (and not the way they arrived).

They thought it was absolutely hysterical.  To be honest, I'd say I have to agree with them.

So apologies all around to everyone in my world who has children who associate with mine, because the odds of one of these little angels telling one of yours how babies arrive in this dear world are great.