the twenty-sixth

Ms. Demi,

Happy Third Birthday!!!!!
Today, three years ago, our lives changed. And while there are times where I would gladly post you in the freebies section of Craig's List, you have given me gifts that I can never repay. Never.

Someday you will read this blog and will probably disown me for a few months, maybe even years. But I hope this blog shows you how much humor frustration you have brought to our lives. You have shown me things that I could never imagine. You have taught me things about myself and about life that one cannot learn by reading a book or taking a class or browsing the interwebs. As my child,
I am your mother, but you my sweet,
darling, amazing girl, are my teacher.
Thank you.

Happy Birthday!
Love,
Mom

the twenty-fifth

They are a year now, so their antics are now open for blogging.....have to make it a fair game. Might as well embarrass all of them so that the level of hatred is even among my children.

They are drunk gnomes. Drunk wandering gnomes. The act of walking is so exciting to them. So much so that they usually fall because they are so happy. Wow, I wish I remembered when life was so simple.
I had been threatening to push them down swoop them up when they took their first steps, as it would be an official sign of my life ending. Over. No longer mine. Complete.madness. But so far it's not that bad. It could be worse.

As a result of their decision (or mother natures decision) to walk, our house has become a bit like Fort Knox. Gates, locks, guards, special passwords, handshakes...well maybe the last few are a stretch, but you catch my drift.

Nothing is safe. The other day they pulled down the round side table. Let me repeat that,...... they pull down the the round side table. While no one was hurt, the loud crash did not deter them much. They were back at it within minutes. I have affectionately named them Hummingbird Moving Company (thank you Becky C) because they rearrange the kitchen chairs (yes, you are reading that correctly), push or shove on anything that is in their way and when there is no movement they get so so so so frustrated. I laugh at them which just seems to fuel their fire. Awesome.

When gates block their entry, they shake it back and forth. If you impede their forward motion, you'd better watch yourself. They are one year old and they are bad to the bone. Holler!

the twenty-fourth

She will be three and she still poops her pants. Not little cute turds. We are talking emptying bowels....yes, it's disgusting. She is just about potty trained with peeing, but pooping...OMG...she is a challenging child. Lord help me and forgive me for all my sins. I surrender.

When I was a kid we had a dog who ate the crotch out of dirty underwear....again, yes, it was just plain disgusting. He was obsessed...he was a strange dog. Anyhow, in an attempt to get him not to eat the underwear, we would tie the underwear around his neck. It was supposed to shame him. However, looking back I think it probably did the opposite. He flaunted his "treasure" (barf) for the world to see. I don't remember if the technique worked, but it certainly has potential.

The point of this is, she had just finished telling screaming that she did not have to go on the POTTY!!!  At the time I was just not in the mood to deal with it. Fine. Get of the potty and go play in the street (just kidding...sorta). Minutes later.....she emptied herself. I mean every ounce was no longer in her body and was in her underwear. Awesome. Women with teenage daughters sent them on over for a little lesson we will call birth control.

I saw red. All red. Will this ever end? Will she be pooping her pants till she is in school and kids make fun of her? Will she be know as the poopy girl? Will I make it through this? I have two more kids to potty train...
After feeling secure that I was not going to strangle her. I took her upstairs and cleaned her up. While I was holding back the urge to gag, I was doing a quick list (I heart lists. Physical and mental lists) of the tactics we has already tried and have not tried. While some techniques might work they probably are too mean and not very sanitary (don't ask), but that stupid dog and his underwear eating came to my mind.....let's face it some times lists lead us in the wrong direction.
With all the noise and the extremely nosy-tattle tail neighbor I won't be surprised when child protective services comes 'a knocking. And something tells me it won't go to well when she skips to the CPS agent with shitty underwear around her neck. I can picture it now.....she will tell the agent "my mommy put my poopy panties around my neck." I'll be in the background disheveled, red faced with a glass of chard....mom of the year.

the twenty-third

Tomorrow they will be one. Tomorrow marks the day our family size grew by two more bodies within minutes. Tomorrow will be the day that we, as a family, will look back and celebrate how far we have come.

While getting to this point wasn't easy. There were times when I cried, when I screamed and when I laughed because there just was nothing else to do. If someone asked me if I would do it again, I would easily reply "Of Course."
The rewards are greater than the challenges.

I am so very thankful and forever indebted to those that supported us. Whether with hands-on help or just words of encouragement. I could not have made it with out you. And I am so, so, so very thankful to my wonderful husband. We have walked the first leg of this life long journey together, hand in hand. Stronger today then we were at the beginning. I am one lucky gal.

Happy Birthday my little boys. Thank you for all that you have given us this year. Cheers to many, many more!

the twenty-second

It was just one of those days. Although thinking about it, I feel like it is always one of "those" days. There are good mornings, but why is it that I clearly remember the tough ones?

I had not slept very well (typical), her devil horns were in full effect the moment her feet hit the ground (she told me to go back to bed when I walked in her room) and they were well, shrieking (hungry, want to be held, the usual). It was going to be an amazing morning. The only saving grace was that I was having a good hair day. Hey, on these kind of days, it's the small things that help you through.

We managed to make it into the truck and there were only a few tears shed. Luckily none of them were mine - tears and good hair are not the greatest look.

I did my best to remain chipper during the drive. Pointing out things that might spark a smile. Nothing. She had a sassy response for everything I said. Towards the end of the drive I was saying things only to irritate her. Not the greatest parenting technique and it WILL bite me in the ass later on, but for the time being it made me feel much better.

The boys sat drinking their milk bundled up with blankets and hats on. Thank goodness they had quieted down. I might have stabbed myself in the eye if they had all continued with their nonsense. Not enough coffee and cranky kids = birth control.

I gladly dropped them off and shut the door behind me. It was as if a fog had lifted. It had been a tough morning. Mornings are difficult, but this one was hard. Some days are just like that. Take the good with the bad. I get it. But some days it is still hard.

As I started down the driveway to my truck, but something told me to turn around. I glanced over my shoulder and there she was. Her horns had disappeared and she was waving at me from the window. Blowing kisses and smiling. For a moment my eyes welled up with tears. She was so sweet. My little girl.      I made that.      Wow.     It was one of those "mom" moments where all the bad melts away and all you can see are the wonders and joys of children. And then I realized....knowing her, she is cussing at me under her breath. Oh, well so much for that. It's a good thing she's cute.

the twenty-first

We have a regular sized bathtub which fits three kids. Sorta. They fit enough that they can all have a place to put their bottoms while we wash off the biggest pieces of dirt. The universe made dirt and dirt don't hurt, right?
They bathe together often. Actually it is one of my favorite and least favorite times of the day. Least favorite because it is usually right before bed - yuck....sometimes not enough wine in the world to make it through. And favorite time of the day because they all love to take baths. They run for the tub and smile ear to ear from beginning to end.

They all have their spots in the bath. She is at the helm right in front of the faucet. Making sure the drain plug does not get tampered with. Not on her watch. Already has a few control issues....I wonder who that came from? Couldn't be me...
The boys are positioned towards the back of the tub in what ever manner they choose (see I can let go. a little.)

The other night B was in the middle and A was sitting towards the back. B was facing his sister, so A was facing B's back...okay confusing, but it will make sense. Anyhow, A was in his own little world splashing and kicking and splashing and shrieking and kicking while B was playing with her...how ever 11 months old play with an almost three year old...but you know what I mean. A was having a blast and eventually had kicked himself closer and closer to his brother. So much so, that each kick landed on the butt of B. I figured B was an ordinary oblivious 11 month old and he wouldn't mind....well, what the ____ do I know. After about two minutes of kicking, B turned around, and with a rubber duck knocked his brother over the head. There was a half a second where there was complete silence and then A went back to kicking the living crap out of B's butt. I was laughing and attempted to scoot A back away from his brother, but A kept scooting into firing range. And in my mind, I was running through some likely future scenarios that might, just might have a similar theme. Only they won't be smiling and I won't be laughing.

the twentieth

The past month has been loud at our house. Really loud. I mean REALLY LOUD. For some reason they have decided to shriek. They shriek often. Too often. Imagine Mariah Carey off-key. Tone def or not, it is a nightmare.  They shriek as they sit in their highchairs waiting for food or some kind of entertainment while they snack. They shriek if they are left in their chairs 14 seconds longer than they feel is necessary. Let me be honest, it.is.horrible. Horrible. And yes, all those out there that are judging, hold your tongues. We have done the give them a toy to play with or chew on. We have tried the Ferber Method letting them cry it out. With one baby, okay, it is tolerable. But two....unless you have been here, keep your judgy-mc-judgerson comments to your self. Smile. Okay enough soap box....

Anyhow the shrieks are horrid. Their tiny feet navigating the floor as they shuffle from one piece of furniture to the next is precious. Their eyes as they play with each other and their big sister are magical. Hopefully the shrieks are just a stage, but something tells me it could be another case of Karma...enough already.

They finally sprouted front teeth. Two each on the bottom row. Now when they smile you catch a glimpse of tiny white tips. Makes up for the headaches we get from the shrieks.

She will be three soon. Three going on thirteen. I cringe when she tells me "Mom, don't worry."
After she has spilled her milk.
And "I'm busy."
When I ask her to come eat dinner.
It is going to be a long road.

And we are SO lucky that she shrieks too. She has taken up shrieking as she reluctantly scampers to the bathroom (still not potty trained. That's a whole different post). Then sometimes when she is being a real peach, she shrieks at you while she is going potty. She shrieks at you to leave. Then when you leave she shrieks for you to come back. Let me tell you, it takes all my energy to hold myself together. And while a kind reminder that shrieking is not necessary or allowed only escalates the issue, staying silent hasn't always been the answer either. She just shrieks until you respond. Yes, child rearing is so much fun.

Of course after going potty on the toilet (bravo), pulling up her own pants (bravo) and washing her hands (double bravo) she switches the dreadful child switch to wonderful and plays with her brothers. The laughter and giggles can be heard from all corners of the house. Every once and a while I catch myself thinking "Oh, maybe one more wouldn't be so bad..."
Can you hear my shrieks?