Triplet Logistics: Of Frogs and Rabbits and Cats

So far the Big Three have been in the same classroom. I had considered splitting them up this coming year until an innocent conversation about what room they would be in for pre-K started (would they be Frogs, Rabbits, or Cats and please oh pleeaase don't let the girls be Frogs.  I'm not up for that freak out). Lizzy and Gracie are adamant about staying together.  Surprisingly, Johnny wants to go alone (only for school - he's still 100% planning on moving in Ainsley's room when the girls do, which is fine).  I asked him Why? and the reason I got was "so I can have my own guy friends".  Well, okay then. I can accept that one.

The problem with the girls is, and this sounds sort of silly, there's this whole social world we haven't had to deal with yet.  Social in that, they are in the same room, a friend in their class might feel obligated to invite both girls over to play (well, the mom will) because they wouldn't want to hurt feelings if only one is left out.  Or one is generally liked and one is not. Or if they're in separate rooms and one girl makes lots of friends in her room and the other doesn't have any friends at all.  I'm definitely not looking forward to the explanations that not everyone is invited to the same birthday parties.  Because so far and with very little exception, they have been a package deal. Johnny has had a couple just-boy play dates - and as much as the girls don't care of it they get it. Other than that, they stick together and that is their normal.  Their normal is in jeopardy and that can not be a good thing.

One a random note:  John just asked if I was blogging about how awesome he is, and I said "yes".  So I have. Feel free to tell him next time you see him that you think he's awesome, too.

Aagghh! Why am I agonizing over this? (Not about John being awesome.  I am not agonizing over that.)

I'll probably let the girls be together one more year.  It's only preschool...good grief.

Are You Catholic?

Well.  Of all the ridiculous comments I've received while out with the kids, this one is new and probably the most obnoxious and offensive.

Let's back up.  I was unfortunately at Sam's Club yesterday.  Unfortunate because the place makes me crazy, but I keep returning because milk is nearly $1 cheaper than the grocery store and - what with us barreling through 8+ gallons/week - you can see why we go.

So there I was in the checkout, with 4 gallons of milk and some strawberries, surrounded by kids (and they were being very good), when this not-so-young man turns to me, surveys the brood, and asks me if I'm Catholic.  I immediately knew what he was implying - my Idiot Radar is fine tuned - gave him the hairy eyeball and my very best smirk and said "No Sir.  I am not".  To which he replied "Well, I thought only Catholics had that many kids.  God help you".

So I said "Well He does, thank you very much" and turned away.

For. Real.

John and I are pretty used to the comments and staring and I'm sure we do look a little odd when we're at the grocery or Target.  I'm talking and gathering and regroup the entire time, and the kids are actually pretty good when we're out of the house, but the constant movement and noise gives us the appearance of a beehive. And I have to admit, when I see other biggish families when I'm out, the first thing that pops in my wee little head is "Wow - that's a big family! Looks sort of weird".  So I'm aware we could be a bit of an oddity. But really not that odd.  There are lots of families out there with more kids.

But beside the ignorant stereotyping from this guy, the thing that bothers me most is that these strangers have no qualms about asking me ridiculous questions or making equally ridiculous comments with my children present.  My children who - for the most part - do not have auditory issues. My kids were all staring at this guy and who knows what they were thinking?

And what almost made it worse for them (but better for me) is that the cashier barely waited until the man was out of earshot when She.Went.Off. with the "Who does he think he is?!! Did you hear what he said to you?!!? You can have as many kids as you want and as long as you take care of them (I thought the "take care of them" part was funny) it's no one's business!  Do you hear me??!?".  I laughed and told her I was used to it, all the while thinking about how my kids think their world is normal - bless their little hearts! - and here, at Sam's, they hear from strangers that we aren't.  It happens all the time.

Good grief.

Biggish Family Logistics - Not Funny At All

Tornado sirens exploded in the middle-of-the-night a while back, launching John and I out of bed.  Surely a false alarm, right? Right?  Late Spring.  That's when sirens are supposed to go off.  It is not Late Spring.  It is Winter = no tornadoes.

John ran downstairs to check the radar while I paused to assess the "feel" of things.  Lots of wind, some rain, what the heck?  The warnings just kept going and when I heard an actual forecaster talking at us on television - which meant SOMETHING was going on - I launched into tornado mode. This means grab the kids and head for the basement.  Easy, right? No. Not easy because there are five kids.  Five LITTLE kids who may not be able to get themselves downstairs briskly enough for my liking, because tornadoes don't wait until everyone is in the safest spot possible before they continue on their course.

So there I was, my arms full with Annie and a maglite, directing Ainsley to head downstairs, when I headed over to the Trips' room where Lizzy (thankfully) was already out of bed.  I sent her on her way, and then I paused.  Gracie and Johnny were lights-out.  Who to grab? I can't do both because of Annie.  Would one listen and immediately follow orders so I can haul the other?

And that is what I freak about when I can't sleep at night and my brain is tormented by worst-case-scenarios. Fortunately, insomnia is rare for me.

And this is why I talk to the kids about emergency plans.

And I realize this is a bummer of a post, but everything turned out just fine.  There weren't any tornadoes in our area and John was 1/2-way up the stairs to tell me as I was part-way through my thought process.

So we went back to bed.

Potty Training

I hate it. Ainsley wasn't potty trained until she was 3 1/2 and it is 100% my fault. I was preggers with the Three, we only had one bathroom and it was upstairs (there was NO WAY I was going to stagger up and down the stairs every 1/2-hour), and we were doing major construction on our house, which disrupted everything for 6 months. When she did decide, on her own, that she was done with diapers, she was trained in 2 days. She made it easy on me.

I've been dreading and putting off training for the crumbgobblers (which they still are - they'll eat anything they find...anywhere) forever and they're starting to call me on it. I'm fairly certain Lizzy and Johnny could experience the joy of a Target trip for big kid underpants if I encouraged them, which I don't. They voluntarily go 3-5 times/day and the ordeal is so lengthy it drives me crazy because if one has to go, then everyone wants to have a swing at it. Gracie is barely interested and she really doesn't get it. She'll sit there and just stare and stare at her loo-loo (which is what we call it - thanks Elizabeth for bringing that into our lives), waiting for something to come out, which it never does.

So I'm blase' about the whole thing and my 2 1/2-year-olds are still running around, everyone blissfully and unashamedly wearing diapers. I guess I need to do something about this before preschool starts in September, right? Ugh. Sigh. Dang it.

Maybe I'll put it off until they're 3...

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?

Baby Jail, Part II

Sweet Lil' Lizzy is a piece of work. Most of the time she gives the appearance of just floating along in this world, but I'm beginning to believe it is a ruse to get more one-on-one time. Every once in awhile she slips up and shows us that she really is paying attention - even more than her siblings sometimes.

We had the unusual foresight to fence in the rest of the yard last Fall, knowing two things:
1. I would go insane if we did not have the outside option for a daily distraction
2. I would be running around like a border collie trying to keep my little flock of sheep from running into the street if we did not.

We put a double gate across the driveway, thinking that the latch-thingy was tricky enough contain them. Lizzy, my not-biting-nearly-as-often-Lizzy, figured out last week how to open the driveway gate, which led to an escape attempt by 2 of our inmates: Lizzy (of course) and Gracie. Both took off down the driveway, neck and neck, before they heard me coming after them and then they divided in an attempt to conquer. No chance, ladies.

John was out doing guy-errands with The Boy, so he got an immediate phone call to pick up a lock. We are now secure, but Lizzy still heads over there all the time to wiggle the latch. Points for persistence.

The gate.

As I was getting a close-up of the lock, a wee little hand reached up in front of the camera.

Politely demonstrating how to work the latches.

So terribly proud of herself. Funny little girl.

The very first Baby Jail is here.

Success At The Zoo

I'm talking about a real zoo - not our house. My sister and I met up there with all the kiddos last week and it went surprisingly well, even when what I dreaded most ended up happening.

This is the deal: I'm not that afraid of attempting fun little outings, on my own, with all four kids. I even considered going to the zoo by myself with them the previous week, but chickened out because of my only fear - that Ainsley would have to go to the bathroom (highly likely) and how-in-the-world would I get the wagon inside a restroom in order to avoid public urination. Our zoo is pretty big and old and the bathrooms were not designed to handle the choo-choo. I also trust no one, not even your grandmother, so asking a stranger to stand outside with the three while I ducked inside with Ainlsey would NEVER happen. I would rather find some bushes for her to use first.

So I jumped at my sister's suggestion for an outing and it was fun. I don't get to hang out with Trish and her kids often enough and Ainsley thinks the sun rises and sets on her older cousin. Plus, Trish's twins (you read that correctly) are only 10 months younger than the Big Three and I think it is going to be fun watching them grow up together.

A pic of all of us eating lunch. It was 100% ridiculous trying to find a table and 5 high chairs. I hadn't thought of that...and since we were on a balcony I couldn't back up any further to get that great of a shot. Notice the lady at the next table staring. Classic.



We eventually had to split because of afternoon commitments and not 4 minutes after saying good-bye at the giraffes and 5 minutes after I had asked the "do you have to go potty" question, I got the "Mommy, I really have to go potty". Seriously. My sister and her crew long gone, we walked around in search of a bathroom and I prayed it would somehow work out. Maybe I could ask a zoo worker to watch the triplets scream while I took Ainsley in (my insane mind "rationalized" that if something horrific happened to my babies there would be an organization I could go all-levels-of-crazy-on). No zoo workers present. Maybe she could hold it? "No, I have to go now." Maybe...oh man. It will work out. It will all work out. And it did. Not perfectly, of course, but we survived. There was an ancient handicapped restroom near the bird house and I was able to pull the wagon straight in, block all the stalls with it (and did not care), find relief for A, and then pull the wagon back out the way we came. The three totally flipped out over the hand-dryers and the whole thing was completely unsanitary, but it was fine. Add the zoo to our list of activities.

I did notice that the monkey house at our zoo was much, much cleaner and neater (albeit smellier) than Chez Laird...

Triplet Logistics - Back Together Again

When Gracie was about 7 months old, we had to move her out of the room she shared with Johnny and Lizzy. She refused to sleep in her bed, crying and waking up the other two, and the only way we could get her to the Land of Nod was to put her in a swing. Now, all of you experienced moms out there know it is a terrible idea to let a kid sleep in a swing. It is not a deep sleep and eventually they get too wiggly or big for one and have to get used to a bed anyway. I knew this, but was so desperate to visit that elusive REM sleep that I did not care. I started caring when she eventually decided the swing wasn't good enough and wanted me to hold her. I love, love, love cuddling with my kids, but I needed sleep and one night I had enough. She was waking up, crying, every 45 minutes (and would stop immediately if I picked her up - she's no fool). It was midnight and that was the night Gracie moved out of that bedroom and into our closet. Before you start going all DCFS on me, please know our closet measures 8x10, has a window, and is attached to our bathroom. The kid essentially had her own suite and, after 2 rough nights, became my best sleeper.

Gracie stayed in our closet for about 11 months and loved it. When it was bedtime, she would practically run through our bedroom and stand/hang on the pack-n-play so she could go to bed. There comes a time, though, when we knew she needed to move back in with the general population and that was about three weeks ago. My fear that my sleep champion would have a difficult time was unfounded - the kid transitioned perfectly and is still the last one awake (most of the time). Not sure what I would have done without that closet. Probably would have given up our bedroom and slept on the couch...

Gracie's Suite:




The Gang. Shenanigans to start soon...

Slowly Coming Around

Ainsley has been less than loving this past year with her siblings. I always hear from friends or read on lots of triplet blogs about how much their older children LOVE LOVE LOVE their wee ones. Not so at Taigh Laird. She has too much of my personality to fall head-over-heels with younger brothers and sisters (sorry, Trish - I love you now!). With that in mind, you can imagine how thrilled she was when the crumbgobblers took over our lives. We did a great job making sure she had plenty of one-on-one with us, but her tolerance for that first year of insanity was a goose egg.

The more they interact and are able to play, though, the more she can handle and it was evident this morning. Ainsley likes to play hide-and-seek and wanted to, and I hesitated. Lizzy was not being cooperative and it was 10 minutes before morning nap. I smelled meltdowns. I was beyond surprised when it was wonderful. Gracie and Lizzy thought the game was awesome and, while Johnny lost interest immediately, he was very content playing with his big sister's dollhouse (ugh). Gracie loved yelling the names of whoever was hiding, and Lizzy was fired up to hold hands and seek. The best part? Ainsley was AMAZING with them. She held Lizzy's hand to find me. She helped Gracie yell and seek. She was patient. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel and knew that, this time at least, it wasn't another train headed straight for me (quote from somewhere...).

There is hope. :)

Bedtime Routines, Or Lack Thereof

I was the straight-up, classic, first-time mom with Ainsley's bedtime routine. The bath, the lower lights, a couple books, no rushing or stimulation, etc. The night-time bath disappeared due to life issues (read: triplets). She still gets a good 1/2-hour out of us, though, what with 3 stories, a song, prayers, and minor chit-chat "Mom, how do pigs give us bacon?" - that one was tonight. While the routine is sometimes frustrating because it is way too long, I am the one who created this monster and have no one to blame but myself. I was the one who listened/read all the "what to expect the first year" stuff or spent too much time perusing the Baby Center website. I was and still am the stereotype, at least with the first-born.*

I was all prepared to give the triplets the same, relaxing routine Ainsley had/has. It did not happen. I was too tired. John was too tired. So what is the wee ones' routine? We are all downstairs with every light on. They are given the opportunity to finish whatever milk is left over in their cups. Diapers are changed, jams put on, they are carried upstairs, given a kiss and a cuddle and put to bed. Gracie does get one book because she sleeps in a different room, but the other two are grade-A gypped out of anything. Sorry, kiddos.

And what is the surprise with all this? They go to sleep more quickly than Ainsley did at this age. I should write a book about this so we can pay for their college tuition. Well, there isn't enough to fill a book. A pamphlet, maybe. I wonder what I could charge for that...



*I do enjoy the time I have with Ainsley every night and know I will miss it someday. I just wish I had been a little less neurotic.