July 30th, 2009

I wrote this post in the summer and for some reason never posted it. I probably was looking for a picture to post along side. The post still needs a picture, but we got a new computer and I haven't spent the time figuring out how to do so. Rereading it made me realize the amazing thing about blogging. Writing helps you remember very specific moments of life. Not necessarily the big ones, like getting engaged or finding out you have 3 babies in there, but the little ones.

Great things about today:
1. R went into work late, meaning I got to leave the house for a Starbuck's Grande Iced Mocha. Yes. Of course, it was non-fat. And no whip.
2. R got home from work early.
3. R brought me home gravy fries for lunch. I had already had a salad. The lettuce kind of salad. Not the children kind of Salad. I ate the fries anyway.
4. I got to see the Salad ride tricycles for the first time. R found an awesome deal on Kettler trikes on Craig's List. We picked them up from another triplet mom today.
5. When we left the park after "teaching" the Salad to ride said tricycles, A told me she "had a great time."
6. As I was brushing S's teeth before bed, A told me she "luffed my hair in a pony."

Not so great things about today;
1. I accidentally ripped the beautiful old knob from our beautiful old front door. And had to have a lock smith come and replace it with a less nice, brand spanking new knob. Boo on new.
2. It was very hot outside.

13 ways to be a better Me

I do not make New Year's resolutions. However, I adore new beginnings. I wake up everyday thinking to myself, "Well, it's a new day. I can be a better mom to the Salad today." And I really do try to do that . . . although I am the first to admit, I know I could be better. So I try again the next day. And so on and so forth.

Anywho, my 9 faithful followers, I offer you my new beginning. In all of it's mundane minutiae. My list of things I want to accomplish. I will try to do everything, not to be bogged down in deliberation of what to do first.

Take life less seriously.*
Find gymnastics class Salad will enjoy.
Take better care of myself.
Design ideal laundry room.
Introduce Beatles music to the Salad.
Clean behind bar.
Find inexpensive free standing bar.
Organize audio/visual equipment.
Remind my friends they are important to me.
Make Julia Child's Beef Bourguinon.
Curl my eyelashes everyday.
Be more dedicated to making Artscape, Inc. a success.
Develop simple preschool home school curriculum for Salad.
Serve my family selflessly.

* Thank you, Indigo Girls, for that sentiment.


There you have it. You are holding me accountable now because I put this out there into the universe.

Giving Thanks, where Thanks is due

I have been missing in action for a while now. My creativity stifled by a broken computer and shoddy Internet service on an ancient laptop. And so there will be no pictures. Sad day, I know.

I wanted to come and say some words of thanks, though. 2 days after Thanksgiving, but these are things I'm thankful for always, so today will do just fine . . .

I am thankful for a husband who rarely sweats the small stuff.

I am thankful for a daughter who embraces her role as protective big sister, even if older only by 1 minute.

I am thankful for a son who always wakes up with a huge smile on his face and with hugs for his sisters, as though it's been years since their last visit.

I am thankful for my sweet baby S, who gently reminds me to "be nice, momma" when I begin to lose my patience.

I am thankful for a mother who still will drop everything to make me homemade lentil soup when I am sick.

I am thankful for a father who will patiently play choo-choos for hours with his grand Salad.

I am thankful for an older sister and BIL who joyfully invite us into their home and turn blind eyes, as we meticulously destroy their house, one room at a time.

I am thankful for a 10 year old nephew whose Christmas list included a robot and a Grow-your-own-Venus-Fly-Trap kit.

I am thankful for a younger sister who threw her self respect into the ocean and ran a kite down the beach on a day without wind, to make her nieces and nephew happy.

I am thankful for a BIL who makes R and I laugh so hard during Scatergories that we often can't catch our breath.

I am thankful for a SIL who wants to keep cousins close.

I am thankful for 2 beautiful nieces, who teach the Salad by example.

I am thankful for old friends who brought me magazines and chapstick while I was on bedrest, who came weekly - coffee in hand - to feed babies, who left diapers and dinners on my doorstep, who bring pumpkin cheesecakes and macaroons, and for new friends who understand that having 3 toddlers can bring you to your knees some days.

And while it seems sad to be thankful for the people who no longer are with me on this journey, I am thankful for the reminder to live a life with no regrets.

A plea

Dear blankets,

While I love that you keep 30 toes warm, I hate that you fall off in the night. I hate even more that 30 toes then get cold and owners of those toes cry out "Put my blanket on!" And then I have to get out from under my warm blanket (which incidentally does not fall off - please take some lessons) and go put 3 blankets back on 30 toes. Come on, blankets, do your job, for crying out loud! I am tired!

Thank you in advance,
A

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.

You know that expression "peace and quiet"? I don't get it. I don't get the expression and I don't get "peace and quiet". There are moments when there is peace. But even peaceful moments here aren't quiet. Let's say, I need everyone to stay downstairs while I cook dinner. I may turn on Dora the Explorer. And everyone may sit still, but 3 minutes into the episode 3 soon-to-be-3 years olds are shouting, "Swiper, no swiping!" at the TV. So peace, but no quiet. Get it?

The other evening, R took the Salad downstairs after dinner, while I cleaned up the kitchen. I was so caught up in loading the dishwasher, I barely noticed as S quietly plodded up the stairs and plopped herself down at the kitchen table. She knelt on a chair and hunched over a Color Wonders coloring book that she had brought up with her. I watched her for a few minutes. My first inclination was to take advantage of the time I had with only one ingredient and strike up a conversation, but I caught myself. It was so quiet in the room, I could hear her marker scribbling on the paper. She looked intent on turning Tinkerbell pink. She looked calm. S had plodded up those steps looking for some peace.

And quiet.

The facts as I see them.

The Salad has active imaginations.

* I found A standing in front of S, who was perched atop an upside down container of Legos. A had the green shoestring they use for bead lacing in her hands, one end in her ear and the other end held to S's chest, "listening" to her heart say "ba boom."

* After one particularly loud clap of thunder during a storm a few weeks back, M gave me a confused look and asked if there was a "blender outside?"

* Sunday, I watched the Salad pretend to be lumberjacks. They used sand shovels as axes and plastic, battery operated, handheld fans as chainsaws. M disassembled our water table and laid the legs at the base of our tree. "Logs," he told me.

* While driving past an old factory whose chimneys were puffing out smoke, A pointed and squealed "Oh look, Mommy! A castle!"

* Not 1, but 3 Salad members insisted that the electric company trucks digging up a street in our neighborhood were most certainly digging a hole for the Easter Bunny.

* "It's raining!" S laughed as she banging her sippy cup on the table over and over, sending drops of juice onto her head.

* I found M clutching a pool noodle up against a wall. When I asked what he was doing, he told me he was climbing a "ladder."

* For weeks, M carried around 2 sections of track and the station from his train set, making a buzzing noise. "Weed whacking" was the explanation that time.

* Laughter erupted from the nursery during what was supposed to be naptime. I went to inspect the situation and what I found was the Salad sitting in a row in S's bed. S was at the helm, hands at 3 and 9 o'clock on her Fisher Price aquarium. It was a "steering wheel, ma" she told me, totally exasperated that I could not see that. They were "driving to see Poppy's choo-choos."

* My mom and Aunt Jo took the Salad out for a walk one day. M picked up a stick and pretended to ride it like a horse. In fact, he's been riding on it like a horse for about 2 months now. Wanna see why?

Because it really, really, really looks like a horse.

Sunny Day

R and I took the Salad to Sesame Place today. We figured it would get Elmo back in their good graces since the Great Pacifier Incident of 2009. Mission accomplished. All is well in Elmo's World. La, la, la, la.

We didn't realize how hard it would be to have 2 adults and 3 kids. I mean, of course we know it's hard. We are outnumbered everyday. I meant at an amusement park, wiseguys. Most of the rides allow 1 child per adult. So 2 waited with R and I rode with the third. I heart alone time with just one Salad ingredient. I got to watch M's eyes grow wide as we flew in the air on the Flyin' Fish ride. I cuddled A when she realized she wasn't all the crazy about how fast the ride went. And I actually got to hear S squeal and giggle and ask for more, without anyone talking over her.

For lunch, we spent $47.00 on 2 bottles of water, 1 hot dog, 1 chicken breast, 3 chicken fingers, 1 cheese burger, french fries, mac & cheese and apple slices. Pricey? Absolutely. Delicious? Not sure. A ate the chicken breast meant for me. No worries, I ate some cold mac & cheese when the Salad had had their fill. Around 3:30 we went back to the same Cafe for a snack. The kind girl at the cash register recognized us and took pity on me, giving me a discount on the food. Only $13.00 for 2 chocolate puddings, 2 cookies and 7 strawberries. Take that, Sesame Place!

The Salad rode and splashed and ran and bounced and laughed and cried and smiled for photos with Abby Cadabby and Elmo and drank juice and drew attention right through nap time, all the way up till dinner, when we scooped them up and left the park to eat dinner on the way home in the car.
The day was a glorious success. I am blessed to have a partner like R, who knows going into big outings that they are going to be hard and plows forward, nonetheless.

Truly though, the highlight of the day came when I was changing them into jammies. A volunteered to be first, so when she was changed, she ran to R and laid on the couch with him. This is the exchange I heard . . .

R: I love you. Do you love me?
A: No. Mommy.
R: What? You only love Mommy?!
A: No. I love you.
R: I love you.
A: I love you.

And so on and so forth for about 5 minutes. It made my heart feel full.

We brushed teeth, read and into beds the Salad fell. About 10 minutes later, I heard quiet singing coming from M . . . "Sunny day, mumble the couds away. On way to mumble air is SVEET! Mumble mumble to get. Mumble mumble Ses STEET!"

Seriously. My heart might just burst.