What It's Like to Have Three Kids Under Three

After having three kids in two years (two years and two days, to be exact), a lot of people want to know what it's like. I get it, they're curious. Having three kids in two years (twins and then another) doesn't even sound like something that should be biologically possible. Most of the couples I know are on their first, if they have kids at all, and here we are with three. I'm so used to the chaos that I forget what this actual three-kid circus must look like to an outsider. Here's a little summary:

1. There's a lot of crying.  From all sides.
2. Success is now defined as all three kids napping at the same time.
3. I haven't had a grown-up song stuck in my head for a very long time. Meanwhile, "The Wheels on the Bus", "Itsy Bitsy Spider", and Daniel Tiger jingles run through my brain on repeat.
4. Sometimes the twins' needs are ignored.
5. Sometimes the baby's needs are ignored.
6. Usually my needs are ignored.
7. My closet during the last 2+ years has been an endless cycle of pregnant-but-not-quite-ready-for-maternity clothes, maternity clothes, even larger maternity clothes, post-pregnancy-but-not-quite-ready-for-regular-clothes, and whatever-the-hell-is-easiest-to-nurse-in tops.
8. Which means my body has also been put through the ringer in gaining and losing a combined total of 200 pounds in the past 2 1/2 years.
9. The laundry. There's always laundry. Frequently covered in spit-up or other bodily fluids.
10. I used to daydream about traveling to Paris and Italy. Now I fantasize about having a live-in maid. Who's also a nanny.
11. There are probably at least four surfaces in our house that are sticky right now. And that's just in the kitchen.
12. People comment that I must be Supermom. I'm not. I just do what I have to do to get us through the day.
13. The toddlers seem to think that "shhh, the baby is sleeping" is code for "you should totally scream right now. And if you can get near the baby's crib, shake it a few times for good measure".
14. My husband and I snap at each other more, but we're also quicker to forgive. We know our irritation all comes from pure and utter exhaustion.
15. Bedtime is both the most stressful and the most magical time of the day.
16. Despite the tiredness, I frequently stay up late just to get some alone time. The highlight is that it's usually the first time since about 6:30 AM that someone hasn't been touching me.
17. Thinking about having three kids in high school at the same time is terrifying.
18. Same for paying for three in college simultaneously.
19. Driving a minivan is non-negotiable..
20. I both want time to speed up and slow down. Depends on the day. Or the minute.
21. Leaving the house is at least a 30-minute process that begins with nursing the baby, moves on to negotiating with the toddlers over shoes, coats, and climbing into their carseats, and ends with pulling out of the driveway, hoping I didn't forget anything, Like a child.
22. My husband and I are officially outnumbered. Though when we're both around, we at least have one more hand than kids. For now... 

Post (Mother's Day) Weekend

I feel like, as moms, (especially super-planner-type-A ones such as myself) (who, me?!?), we have these expectations for holidays.  We're going to wake up at this time, and everyone will be wearing these outfits (perfectly coordinating, of course), and this is what we're going to have for to eat before we do wonderful activities X, Y, and Z, and there will be NO FIGHTING because my children (and husband) will suddenly morph into perfectly well-behaved mind-readers, etc., etc., etc...

And then we wake, and juuuust settle in with our coffee to read a good book in peace and quiet, since Daddy took the two tornadoes on a shopping trip, and right then, the smallest one of all decides to fill their diaper and damn near the entirety of their sleeper with one of the most epic poop-splosions of all time.  Resulting in a swift and necessary clean-up of said sleeper, diaper, surface baby was laying on, and the entire baby himself.  Which is all completed juuuust as said tornadoes walk back in the door.

Happy Mother's Day, indeed.

(He's lucky he's cute.)

Mother's Day morning and expectations aside, it actually was a lovely day.

Quite literally:

Also please note the above photo contains three small children and it is NOT BLURRY THEY ARE ALL SITTING STILL AND SMILING IN A NEAR-PERFECT MOTHER'S DAY PHOTO OP.  WHAT THE WHAT WHOSE CHILDREN ARE THESE?!?

So that's one expectation that actually worked out.

Though I quickly ditched the above small children and joined my own mom for some Mother's Day shopping.  No pictures because we were too busy SHOPPING.  SANS CHILDREN.  It's a Mother's Day miracle!

We did regroup and meet up with lots of extended family for a patio dinner.  

And margaritas.  Another expectation fulfilled.

Also:

Flowers.

Other things we did over the weekend...

Took advantage of that 80+ degree weather outside.

Also we...

...met Daniel-freaking-Tiger.  ZOMG!

This was Caden's reaction...

...to walking in and seeing Daniel Tiger playing on the TV holy crap it's just like at my house this is the best day EVER!!!!!!11!!!!1!!

This was Caden's reaction...

...to actually meeting the somewhat terrifying 9-foot tall with a freakishly large head Daniel Tiger in person (in tiger?).  He actually had the tiniest of grins the entire time he was near Daniel, and waved and said "bye-bye" in the most adorable of ways after our mini meet-and-greet sesh was over.

Brooklyn never took her eyes off of him while we waited in line, but as soon as it was our chance, wanted pretty much nothing to do with DT beyond the safety of Daddy's arms.

There were plenty of snacks, though.  And a playground right next door.  Definite win.

Onward now, to a fairly standard week.  We'll keep those expectations to a minimum.

An Ode to Mom Friends

It seems that I've heard it a million times now: motherhood is lonely.

It's true.  And I'm sure it's something that every mom - especially those of the stay-at-home variety - experience at some point (or many).

It occurred to me the other day that this is the first time in our lives that we are constantly surrounded by people who aren't like us. Growing up, we were always around kids in the same grade. If we didn't have friends in class, we quickly made them. Then came college. We moved away from home and were again surrounded by people of a similar age and life stage. More importantly, we were ALL seeking friends. After that we entered the work force, into a workplace with co-workers in a similar field, working toward similar goals, socializing and connecting with people on some level on a daily basis.

Then many of us became moms. Some of us became stay-at-home moms. And suddenly our days were filled by a person (or two or three...) who is much smaller than we are. And a LOT more needy and demanding. And they certainly aren't the most stimulating or intellectual of companions, either. Now our days are occupied by little people who can't string together full sentences, and whose idea of a good time is a Daniel Tiger marathon surrounded by dinosaur figures and goldfish crackers.

Enter: mom friends.

We meet in playgroups, story times, coffee shops, and playgrounds.  We have at least one thing in common: little shadows that follow us around and demand to be taken care of.  We might not meet every day, or even every week, but those playdates are ALWAYS a bright spot on our calendars.  Though we often spend more time chasing after own our kids than having conversations with each other.  It's still more adult conversation than we would ever get in otherwise.

So, here's to you, mom friends.

Thank you for showing me how to love my own kids better. Your patience and delight in your children makes me fall more in love with mine. You remind me how to be calm and loving, to take breaks to watch these little minds and bodies in action. A couple of weeks ago I met some moms for coffee (minus kids, so, y'know, we were living the life) and one mom of three, with another on the way, absolutely RADIATED when she talked about her children. Even while admitting that, yeah, they could be jerks sometimes. And even though things were often hard. But you could tell just how much she loved those little monsters, and THRIVED in the chaos. Thank you, for reminding me to take joy in my own chaos.  (And, believe me, it is PLENTIFUL.) Thank you for showing up for coffee. Sometimes all we need is an hour or two to chat and gripe about our own kids before going back to the grind. A few friends and some caffeine readying us to love them fiercer, and better.  

Not that you're always perfect, mom friends.  THANK YOU EVEN MORE FOR THAT.  If you were, it would put my own failures to greater shame.  I see you lose your patience when the two-year old asks you something for the 97th time, and I think OH THANK GOD IT'S NOT JUST ME.  I see you in the store, with the crying infant or tantruming toddler (or worse: both), just trying to get to the check-out lane, and want to catch your eye all, solidarity, mama. I usually don't get the chance since, y'know, I have my own three kids with me, SO LET'S MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!!!  But believe me, the intention is there.  I may also be busy sending a silent prayer up to heaven, thankful that right now, it's not me.

I live near some of you, and far from others, but know that I love seeing the photos you all post. I realize that life isn't always like that perfect little moment you just captured with your daughter in the sunshine or your son all snuggled up with his lovies, but I appreciate that you took the time for a photo and a quick share. Because that moment? It WAS perfect, and it mattered. I love watching your children play and discover and grow almost as much as I enjoy watching my own.  And thank you for not always editing out the laundry in the background, the toys strewn across the floor, the remnants of breakfast still on their cheeks. A good photo crop can cover a multitude of kid crap (#beentheredonethat), but I appreciate knowing that, actually, your house looks just like mine right now.

Which would be like this...

Most of all, mom friends, thank you for making things a little less lonely. I hope those little monsters give you the Mother's Day you all deserve, i.e. a full night of sleep, breakfast in bed (at about 9 am) that includes some strong coffee, a mani/pedi/massage, at least five minutes where no one says "mommy, mommy, MOMMY!", drinks out with your friends, and, most importantly, a perfect and seamless bedtime routine. Hey, a mama can dream.

The Wolf Pack

Yesterday, Caden walked over to Brooklyn, who was playing contentedly on the floor, took his hand, and flat out smacked her, open-palmed, square on the forehead.

He stood there a moment.  She sat there, looking up at him.

Then they both started giggling.

Because, of course, it was hilarious.

Just this morning I was holding Nolan.  Brooklyn came over and took his little face in both her hands, very gently, and gave him a kiss on the nose.  And then, still holding his face, began to head-butt him.  They were fairly gentle head-butts.  But head-butts nonetheless.

Uh...whut???

She thought it was funny.

Nolan, not so much.

+++++

Often I find Caden and Brooklyn using the mallet for their drum, or the wooden spoon from their kitchen, or even a book, and smack each other over the head with it.  Or push over a tower that they've just built on top of their sibling, and giggle as it collapses on top of them.

+++++

It's become a sort of game, really, between Caden and Brooklyn, of running and tackling, pushing and pulling, bumping, tugging, falling, and hitting.  And they think it's just hysterical (until...it's not).

They're actually very polite about it all, taking turns doing the tackling.  "Caden!"  Brooklyn will say, pointing to the spot she was standing before he came over knocked her to the ground.  And Caden will dutifully go over to the spot she's indicating, where it's his turn to be the one tackled.  Sometimes Brooklyn even apologizes, a quick, "Saw-ee Caden!", not that it stops her from doing it again.  And again.  And again.

They don't do this with other kids (thankfully).  Only to each other.  I would be incredibly surprised, in fact, to see them tackle or push one of their little playmates.  But our house frequently has a two-player version of some type of tackle-fall-and-giggle-tag going on, with hard floors, wall corners, head bumps and all.  I usually let them go at it, (unless Nolan is involved, though he should be able to hold his own here pretty quick if he's going to survive in this family #thirdchild), since their uncontrollable laughter clearly indicates that they have so much fun with each other in these scuffles.  We have our very own toddler version of wrestle-mania going on.

It reminds me of nothing so much as a wolf pack.  Of wolf pups, fighting and nipping at one another as part of their play.

I just want to know...WHOSE CHILDREN ARE THESE?!?  Where does this all COME from? Rest assured, I do not spend my days smacking, head-butting, or tackling any of them.  I feel like I can answer the age-old anthropological debate of "is violence learned or innate" by presenting my children as Exhibits A and B.  (Answer: INNNAAAATTE.)  (Okay, at least to an extent.)  There's no "boys will be boys" type thing going on here, either, since Brooklyn instigates JUST as much as Caden does.  It's more like "two-year olds will be two-year olds".

At least they think it's funny.

I'll just keep out of my wolf pack's way.