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.

Peter Pan's Worst Fear

Translation - growing up.

There are many days, in the middle of someone's 19th tantrum, I wish this year of "terrible twos" away. Many days, I want to cry in defeat. And then the night comes and our home is quiet enough for me to think clearly again. And in those hours, I want this year to last a lifetime.

Because I realize I will be sad the day my son stops "earing the miscadas in the backnard" (translation - hearing the cicadas in the backyard.)

In 14 years, when my oldest girl is bored by the sight of me, I will long for the days that she squeals with delight "I so exciting!" (translation - I'm so excited!) when I offer to paint her toenails pink.

I know I'll feel lost when my baby girl can independently dress herself, when I won't need to tell her that her "cocks" (translation - crocs) are on the wrong feet and when she'll stop putting both legs through the same hole in her big girl undies. There will come a time, when after I fix these things for her, she won't say "Ca ca, Mommy" (translation - Thank you, Mommy.)

Someday, the Salad won't call every rabbit they see the Easter Bunny. They won't be enthralled by seeing an airplane or hearing a train whistle or watching a tow truck take Poppy's car away. They won't tell me that I'm pretty when my hair is wet. They won't ask me to kiss their boo-boos. They won't panic if I leave their room for the night and forget to cover them with their blanket or position their frog just so on his pillow. Someday, I'll have to do more than take them to a pet store to entertain them for a morning. The girls will realize it's not socially acceptable for them to wear M's big boy undies, even if they do have Elmo on them. Someday, S will understand the quizzical looks she gets when she puts together her own outfit. And worse yet, she may care about those looks enough to stop dressing the way she wants to. Ok. Maybe that last one isn't such a bad thing.

Elmo did what?!

The Salad loves Elmo. See?

The Salad also love their pacifiers. See?

One day, Elmo came to visit the Salad during dinner.

He was bigger than they expected and they were scared. See?

But then Elmo gave them treats in exchange for their pacifiers.

And the Salad loved him again. See?

Apologies

Dear M,

I am sorry that I yelled at you right before bedtime tonight.

I am sorry that my calm didn't hold out just 5 minutes longer.

I am sorry that more often than not my frustration seems infinite and my patience seems finite.

I am sorry that many times I fail to be the mommy I long to be.

I am sorry that even though I said to stop, you persisted in shoving your crib into your sisters.

I am sorry that I almost cried when seconds later you looked me straight in the eye, with your big, serious, innocent expression and asked me to sing "Happy Birthday, Jellybeans" while I brushed your teeth. I choked back the tears as I sang, because suddenly I realized how fleeting the time is that you will let me brush your teeth, let alone sing to candy while I do so.

Because look how much you've grown up in just the past 2 years.

I love you, little buddy.

Mommy

Sweet Exchanges

Last week, Ian brought over a toy whose base unit has a camera that plugs into the TV and allowed the Salad to sit at their picnic table and watch themselves eat lunch right in our living room. They were tickled pink. Which incidentally is A's favorite color. After the toy was unplugged, M was content to just carry it all over the house. But he's a small boy and there was a cord, so it was downright unruly to lug around. He's crafty though, and recruited help. I watched from the top of the steps as M carried the base unit, A got the middle of the cord and S followed behind, keeping the end of the cord from tripping them up. When they reached the top of the steps safely, M exclaimed enthusiastically, "Great job, everybodies!"

To ease the strain of potty training, we keep potties strewn about the house. 3 in the hall upstairs, 3 in the kitchen and 3 in our playroom. Earlier in the week, S and I were having a catch in the playroom when suddenly she stopped, dropped her drawers and peed on the potty. A happened by while S was cleaning up, peeked in the potty and like the proud big sister, patted S on the back. "Awesome," she said. "Really awesome, S!"

Friday, Aunt J, Unka By and Ian asked us to go watch planes take off and land at a small airport in West Chester. We were glad to oblige. A is still wary in large crowds of people and pressed me for info on the way to Aunt J's.
A: "Lots of peoples there, Mommy?"
Me: "I'm not really sure A. There may be, but you will be surrounded by people who love you, like Aunt J, Unka By, Ian and Mommy. And you will always, always, always have your brother and sister to care for you."
I looked in the rear view mirror to see if my answer had calmed her apprehension about our adventure. I saw sweet S reach for A's hand. She held it for a while and softly said, "Yep."
I saw peace and gratitude come to A. She wanted to let S know she appreciated her gesture. A shoved her almost empty bag of Pringles sticks at S and asked, "You want my last sticks, S?" S gobbled them down quickly, before A could change her mind.

And so it goes . . .

that babies don't keep. They grow up. Too fast. I know everyone says it. But I have never one day in the last 2 years, 6 months, and 5 days felt it as deeply as I do today. I have never longed for the nights during early infancy when I woke every 1.5 hours to feed 3 very tiny babies. I have never wished the pre-walking days back, for I only have 2 arms and could never carry all of my babies at once. I have never regretted that I couldn't wait for their 1st birthday to come, so I could stop making gallons of formula and cleaning 24 bottles a day. But lately, the winds of change are blowing in our house. They are blowing so strongly and in my face, that I am gasping for air and wiping tears from my eyes.

No pacifiers, no diapers and no cribs anymore. Where have my babies gone?