Happy Halloween!!

Nightmare (the Mom definition)

Nightmare (noun):

Taking a 4 year old, a 2 year old, and a 3 month old for vaccinations at the same time (by yourself), while the four year old tells everyone she sees how brave she is (whether they want to hear it or not), the three year old starts screaming the minute he sees the doctor's office that "I no want to be bwave!" (and continues screaming it until you leave), and the 3 month old is screaming her head off because she is hungry (but you are holding off to nurse until after she gets her shots). Oh, and you are getting a flu shot too.

Wordless Wednesday

New Rules at Our House

1. You don't get to play light sabers if your opponent doesn't have a light saber too.

2. Just because you can turn on the TV doesn't mean you should.

3. Throwing pumpkins is not allowed.

4. The dog is not for riding.

5. Counters are not for climbing.

6. Baths are required after making a mud puddle.

7. You are not to use your water glass to make a mud puddle.

8. You cannot cut your own hair.

9. No one is allowed to use scissors, ever again.

10. Throwing your brother's toy over the safety gate so he cannot play with it because you want it results in being placed in the penalty box. No warnings will be given.

Just Like Momma

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I despise veggies.

And I know I made my parents' lives hell when I was growing up with them trying to get me to eat them.

I would hide peas under my plate and when my mom would clear the table, peas would roll every which way (in my defense, I was three).

I would chew them up and spit them in my water glass, hoping that my parents wouldn't notice. (I was four, okay?!)

I would stuff veggies in my mouth and then ask to go to the bathroom so that I could spit them into the trash can.

When I saw my mom adding pureed veggies to spaghetti sauce when I was six I refused to eat spaghetti sauce for the next five years.

But now I have kids.

So I have to eat my veggies. Drinking V8 just doesn't cut it anymore.

And my daughter is just. like. me.

The other night at dinner, her father and I were begging her to eat her veggies: "Look, honey, they are sooooo good!"

She wasn't buying it.

We threatened her: "You won't get to have dessert."

She decided she could live without jello.

We tried reasoning with her: "If you don't eat them, the dog is going to get them and Katdog is so fat all ready. How would you feel if she ate your food?"

Girlie decided that would make her happy.

Finally I had enough. "You are going to eat one bite of peas, and that is final," I declared.

Girlie glared at me, bit off an 1/8 of a pea, sucked on it, and then spit it into her water glass.

And from 400 miles away, I could hear my mother laughing.

Wordless Wednesday: First Day of Preschool

When Did I Become A Grown Up?

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I love my kids. I think that is pretty obvious.

Still, though, there has always been a thought in the back of my mind -- I had better do this right or the grown ups are going to come and take them.

I know that they are mine and that I am their Momma. I'm not stupid.

I just also still feel like a teenager most days. A mature teenager, sure. Like a 19 year old. But still a teenager. But I rarely feel like a grown up.

I have had plenty of "mom moments" - you know, those moments where is is blindingly clear - Oh, sh#$, I'm a MOM.

I finally had my Oh, sh@#, I'm a grown up! moment.

It wasn't when I was paying my astronomically high mortgage on my shoebox of a house.

It wasn't when I was balancing the check book and trying to get blood out of a turnip.

It wasn't when I was sneaking veggies into my daughter's dinner.

It wasn't when I made appointments to get my kids vaccinated.

It was yesterday, when I got out of the shower. I was wrapped in a Spiderman towel with a princess towel in my hair, since my towels were in the wash (See what I mean? Wouldn't a grown up have clean, adult towels?).

My older two burst into the bathroom, demanding that I referee the fight they were currently having. I think it was over what park they wanted to go to.

I told them, "Hey, guys, come on, Mommy doesn't want to deal with this right now."

And my four year old daughter glared at me and said, "You have too, Mommy, you are the grown up!!"

When did that happen?!?!?

I Know I Need A Nap

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I was only the phone with my sister the other day when my son began smacking the dog with a stick.

"Boyo, put that stick down! We do not hit the dog!" I ordered him. Boyo ran off to put the stick down (I thought) and I continued my conversation with my sister.

Five minutes later, Girlie came up to me sobbing.

"Boyo hit me with a stick!" she wailed.

"The same stick I just told him to put down?" I asked.

"Yes," she sobbed.

"Did you hit him back?" I asked.

"No," she cried.

"You should go do that," I told her. Not my finest moment, I know. Plus, my four year old doesn't get sarcasm.

"I don't want to," she cried.

"What do you want me to do?" I teased her. "Do you want me to go hit him back for you?"

"Yes!" Girlie wailed.

Calm down. I didn't. I didn't even consider it.

And then Boyo piped up with: "It assident Momma!"

My sister about peed her pants listening to this on the phone.

Wordless Wednesday

I think Girlie is picking up on the fact that I'm a little stressed. She told me that I needed to go to the beach with her, so we can have ice cream cones and see the star fish. And then she drew it out for me. One question - where are our arms?

Three Kids

Since I had the baby, I've gotten all sorts of looks from people. Looks that say, "Please don't let her get in line behind me," to "Well, that is a walking ad for birth control." Looks that are disgruntled, looks that are sympathetic, and looks that are comedic.


And, invariably, I get the question: "How do you do it?"


Just to be a smart ass, I always reply with a smile, "Do what?"


"Have three kids!"


The way people ask makes it sound like I'm an endangered species. Or an alien. Or an endangered alien species.


Here's the thing - and it's not a secret, so feel free to share.


I just do.


Every day, I just do. I get up before they do. I shower, check my work emails, get breakfast ready, and get them up. I get them to school if it's a school day or a fun activity if it's not. I get them home and settled with a movie for quiet time. I get them back out to play in the afternoon. I cook dinner, do the dishes, work, and sometimes clean my house.


I dress them, feed them, love them, cuddle them, and yes, sometimes I yell at them. I kiss "blood owies," referee fights, read stories, and spin around the living room with them. I tickle and tease, brush Barbie's hair, fight light saber battles, and clap Baby Girl's hands.


I do let some things go - some things that I know moms with one or two kids wouldn't. Things that I can't always do since I divide my time among three. And it's taken me a while, but I'm working on being okay with that. Am I tired? Of course. But I'm no more tired with three than I was with one or two.


However, I'm also more careful with my three than I was when I had just Girlie or just Girlie and Boyo. Each child gets me and Daddy all to themselves at least twice a month - date nights with each child go on the calendar and are written in stone - they can't be broken. They get naptime snuggles with Mom, and bedtime snuggles with Daddy. They get siblings to play with during the day. Taking turns has been drilled into their head - so has the idea that Mommy and Daddy will make things as fair as possible.


I don't know how it all works out - it just does. I don't think about how because I don't have time.