When Your Baby Becomes a Big Sister

When each of my big girls became a big sister, I never really thought about how young they were when they were thrust into that new role.  However, as each of my girls has reached the age when her older sister became a “big” sister, it has hit me how little those big sisters really were. 

This happened just the other day when I realized that the triplets are now the same age that Emily was when we found out we’d be having three babies (did you follow that?).  That day also happened to be Emily’s 5^th birthday.  I ate lunch with her at school to celebrate, and she glowed as she adjusted her birthday crown and chatted with her friend.  She was so grownup.  She was so happy.  She was finally a whole hand—5!—and she was thrilled.  After lunch, we said our goodbyes and my husband and I headed to the car. 

Suddenly, I was crying.  Hard. 

I thought about how young Emily was when we told her we were having not one, not two, but three babies.  I thought about my high-risk pregnancy, and how she patiently sat through countless doctors’ appointments with me.  How she helped the ultrasound techs squeeze the warm jelly on my giant round belly at my weekly ultrasound.  How she would sit tucked behind my legs and back, in a cozy little space she called “Mom’s pocket,” as I laid on the couch on bedrest, counting each day as I neared closer to viability.  I thought about all the times I had said, no, wait, after the babies came home from the hospital.  I thought about all the times I’d said not now, I have to change the babies.  I have to feed the babies.    

I wondered: had I asked too much of her and her sisters? Did I expect her to be bigger than she was?  Did I miss things because I was busy with the babies?  Did I miss her being a baby? 

Of course, all this looking back is just that—looking back.  I can’t recapture that time or go back and do things differently.  I did the best I could and I continue to do so.  However, reflecting on how fast my babies became big sisters does bring a few things into sharp focus for me.  First, it reminds me that my girls are resilient.  My big girls’ world was turned upside down with the arrival of their three preemie sisters, and they carried on as usual.  That taught me that they can handle whatever curveballs life throws at them and roll with it.  I think that that will serve them well in life, because, as we all know, things never really go “according to plan.”  Second, I think having younger siblings has taught my girls that love multiplies with the arrival of a new baby.  While I may not always have enough hands to hold everyone, I think they know that I love them all deeply.  I hope that they’ve learned that as your family grows, the love does too, and there’s enough room for everyone.  Third, I think that my big girls are thoughtful, empathetic people in large part because they are big sisters.  They have been forced to be patient and helpful, and that’s a good thing.       

All that said, I hope my big girls know that they don’t always have to be big.  They need me to snuggle with them, talk with them, and hold them close. Because at the end of the day, even though they’re big sisters, they will always be my babies.

Happy birthday, sweet Emily.  I love you and all your sisters.    

Lice Truths You Need to Know

Quick note: When I asked my husband what he thought of this blog entry and whether he liked it, he replied: “it doesn’t sound as crazy as you seemed to feel while this was going on.” So, there’s that.  Happy reading.

I stared at the little bug on my phone screen.  It couldn’t be, could it?  But it was. . . .  There was no denying it: I had lice.  Or, at minimum, I had a louse. [Insert every-single-curse-word here.] 

But let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?

I had heard lice were going around, so I decided to check my girls.  They hadn’t been itching, but it seemed like a good idea.  I was thinking to myself: oh, I’ll take a quick look and all will be well.       

I started with the big girls.  There were some unusual-looking tiny flecks on one daughter’s head.  Hmnnnnnnn.  Weird.  Possibly lice? I had no idea what to do next, so I consulted with a friend who’s had the misfortune of becoming a lice expert.  She advised me to comb through my daughter’s hair with a metal nit comb and lots of conditioner, wiping the conditioner on a white towel as I went to see if I caught any nits or lice.  Easy enough and we’ll call it a day, I thought.  Except—oh sh*t.  Three little bugs sat on the white towel, drowning in conditioner.

I immediately thought of all the laundry I’d be doing.  All the beds I’d have to change.  All the beloved stuffed animals that would have to be stuffed away or thrown away.  (I was slightly thrilled about that.)  Surprisingly, it felt like it was a task that I could handle.  I was up for this challenge.  I would show these brainless little lice who was boss. 

After consulting with the school nurse, the pediatrician, and more lice expert-friends, I decided to visit a professional lice removal company.  Seth was working late, so I was on my own there with the six pack.  And let me just say, there’s a special circle of hell when you’re at the lice removal place with six small children.  Seriously. 

After careful inspection of all three biggies, the lice verdict was 3 for 3 (no bugs but nits).  Sweet Jesus, pray for me.  They did a thorough inspection of my head, too, and found no lice (or so we all thought, keep reading).

The good news was that my girls found the entire process rather—dare I say it?—fun.  They pretended that they were lunch ladies as they sat with shower caps on their heads, after having the lice sucked up off their heads by a weird looking blow dryer contraption.  They danced around.  Lice be damned, they were having a great night.  (I should note here that this was their attitude about the whole ordeal.  Whenever we ran into someone we knew, they would quickly blurt out: we have lice!  No shame there.  I think they enjoyed the shocked and horrified stares by our friends in response.) 

After a restless night of sleep where I dreamed about bugs and dealt with sick toddlers, I woke up thinking: yeah, we did it! House treated, kids treated, crisis averted!  Lice aren’t so bad after all! Then I turned to the next crisis: three babies with raging ear infections who needed to get to the pediatrician.    

Just a quick blow dry and I’ll be on my way, I thought.

And then it happened. 

As I was checking email on my phone, a louse fell smack in the middle of the screen.  I stood there staring at it, feeling frozen.  I wanted to laugh at the hilarity of the louse’s aim; it was as if the louse wanted to say to me, “I’m still here!  Here’s my louse middle finger pointed straight up at you!”  I also wanted to cry but was too tired and overwhelmed.  The babies cried at my feet as I continued to stand there, staring at the louse.  “Hi my name is Chrissy, I’m 38, and I have lice for the first time in my life.  It’s so funny, right?  Not ha-ha funny but ridiculous, sad funny.” I thought to myself.   

Finally, I paused my inner dialogue and called Seth.  I calmly asked him if he could come home and help get the babies ready, and, oh by the way, I have lice and may potentially lose my mind.    

While I wanted to bathe in Nix or whatever lice treatment would rid me of lice, I ended up throwing my hair up and walking out the door to the pediatrician because it was time to go.  (I know your eyes are popping out of your head now that I went to the dr. with lice but take note: (1) lice cannot jump or fly; (2) I didn't sit down because, well, triplets; and (3) the pediatrician and I didn't share any hats or hoodies whereby I'd give her or anyone else lice.  Of course in an ideal world I would've treated myself before I went, but I had to get to the dr. and no one was available to take my three screaming toddlers for me.)  

At the doctor's office, I unloaded my lice drama to the pediatrician, who is thankfully a doctor/baby whisperer/parent counselor.  She assured lice weren’t the worse thing in the world and talked me off my lice ledge. She was so unphased that I imagine she gives that same pep talk multiple times each week, actually.  When we got home, I treated myself to a lovely prescription lice treatment.  All I could think of was that phrase “TREAT YO’SELF!,” which normally implies indulgent pampering.  Treating myself, in the case of lice, was nothing of the sort.  It simply involved coating my hair in a glue-like lotion and sitting there for ten minutes, where I pictured any lice shriveling up and dying a quick death.    

Finally, after another round of treating everyone in my house, we were lice-free.  Thankfully my sanity remained generally intact throughout the process.  To help make sure you also remain sane, I have some important LICE TRUTHS to share with you.  Let me know what you think, and feel free to send to your BFF when she calls you crying that her kids have lice.  Then read it for yourself because y’all probably have lice too.  Sorry.

* * * * * 

LICE TRUTH #1: Lice supposedly prefer clean hair. Go ahead and pat yourself on the back if your kids only wash it once a week.  You’re doing a great job of keeping lice away!  Sadly, the dirty hair remedy isn’t everything, though, because we only wash our hair a few times a week and we still got lice.  So while it may not be foolproof, it’s worth a shot. 

LICE TRUTH #2:  Lice bring out the crazy in you.  This is no joke.  When you see your child reach up to scratch their head or move wisps of hair off their faces, panic will rise in your chest.  You will find yourself checking their hair with a flashlight while they sleep.  You will develop OCD after days and days of checking their hair.  In fact, you will have done it so many times that your toddlers will start shouting “CHECK ME! CHECK ME!,” because they think it’s some weird, fun game. 

LICE TRUTH #3:  You won’t ever want to hug anyone ever again, because you will picture lice crawling from their head to yours.  Refer back to #2 if this seems crazy.  It is, but it’s true.  Likewise, you will never look at fabric-covered surfaces the same way again. 

LICE TRUTH #4:  At some point in your lice saga, you’ll consider burning your house down and starting over.  It will just seem easier than doing all that laundry again, rounding up the stuffed animals, vacuuming fabric headboards, etc.  Ultimately you decide that it seems like too much effort to move into a rental so you decide against burning the house down. For now, anyway.

LICE TRUTH #5: You have LOTS of friends who’ve had lice, you just don’t know it.  People don’t generally walk around shouting “I HAVE LICE!” unless you’re one of my children who seem to love sharing that info in a dramatic reveal.  As soon as you share your lice tales with friends, you will learn that so many friends have silently fought the good fight, and when you discover this, you’ll remember how crazed they looked during that time and wish they had told you.  Maybe you wouldn’t have hugged them but you could’ve thrown a bottle of wine and some dinner at their door.  Sharing is caring, y’all.  

LICE TRUTH #6:  Don’t even bother with the over the counter medicines and creams.  They aren't very effective, and they don't kill the nits, so you’ll spend days and days combing them out.  Instead, you should call the pediatrician and have them call in Sklice prescription lotion for the whole family.  The great thing about Sklice is that it kills the lice AND the nits for about 75% of people.  According to their pediatrician, those are sadly very good statistics, too.  Sklice is normally very expensive, but if you go to their website, you can find a manufacturer’s coupon that makes it only $10 for most people!  You can use a different coupon code for each tube you buy too, or at least I could.  You coat your hair in the glue-like, odorless lotion, and then rinse it out.  Done.  (Note I do not work for Sklice but maybe I should?)

LICE TRUTH #7: No one wants lice.  Not you, not the person who gave it to you, not the person that you end up giving it to.  No one says, YES!  I've been dying to share this fresh hell with you!!!  So unless someone knowingly rubs their licey head against yours or blatantly fails to treat her hair, do not harbor any ill will.  It happens.  Life happens.  Lice happen.

LICE TRUTH #8: You don't actually have to wash everything.  You can just dry it all on extra hot for a regular drying cycle.  Another helpful tip from the lice removal experts--peppermint oil is better than tea tree oil for preventative lice care.  

LICE TRUTH #9: Phantom lice will have you scratching your head for months.  At the mention of the word lice, you’ll start scratching.  You may develop a scratching tick.  Do not be alarmed.  It will go away (I mean I think it will?  Mine has not yet.)

LICE TRUTH #10: You will survive lice, even though they will make you a little crazy.  I promise—you will survive.  Just be sure to grab a bottle of wine when you go to the pharmacy to get that nit comb and Sklice prescription.  You’ll want to drink it in between checking the kids’ hair while they’re asleep and changing loads of laundry.  Best of luck.  You're a parent, you got this.    

A Random Roundup of Updates!

      Hello!!  It’s been so long! I’ve been treading water over here for the last two months, paddling and kicking just trying to stay afloat.  I feel like I’m finally catching my breath and exhaling, so now I can fill you in on our eventful holiday season.  Not “eventful” with glamorous holiday parties and other social events, but rather mass chaos, sleep deprivation, and illnesses.  Lots of illnesses.  Strep.  Lice.  Ear infections.  Second set of tubes for all three babies. Lice again.  Tears (mine).  Fever viruses.  Mono tests. Prolonged fever viruses.   

Every time I thought about writing a blog post, I stopped myself because I really didn't have much to say except: I’m tired.  Guess who's sick now!  Will I ever be alone? I’m still tired. I hate lice.  I also used any free minutes to catch up on general life stuff, like showering, sleeping, and Real Housewives.  But finally, here I am, the fog has lifted, all is well (knock on wood), so I can finally say—HELLO!  (Side note: the lice will receive their own blog post, because I have a lot to say about lice.  Specifically, how they are the devil.)

So, here's what's new with the six pack! 

The Babies

The “babies” are crazy little toddlers these days.  They talk NONSTOP, and they love to say to me, “watch ME! Watch this, mama!”  With their rapidly increasing language skills, it’s easy to see their different personalities.  Ruby, the youngest of the three, is the ringleader of the group.  She’s very athletic and loves to jump on the furniture.  She has a deep, full-belly laugh and usually has a playful smile on her face.  Abby, the middle baby, is very talkative and demands attention.  I sometimes think she’s in denial she’s a triplet.  She loves to be held and is more often happy to do her own thing apart from the other two.  Her most favorite activity is digging in my bathroom drawers and peeling my disposable contact lenses out of their plastic cases.  I kid you not.  Libby, the oldest of the three (and Ruby’s identical twin), is very sweet and a bit shy.  She's a mama's girl.  She has the best little giggle and likes to carry around purses overflowing with treasures.

The babies love and fight hard.  They have an inherent sense of order and fairness, and, as part of a trio, they expect their sisters to have the same things as them.  For example, if two babies are in the kitchen with me and I’m passing out a snack, they will wait for me to fix the third snack and carry it to the baby that is in the other room.  As triplets, they also have a few words that are noticeably different than my singletons, especially “my turn.”  They are fairly patient when it comes to waiting their turn, because it’s always been a part of life for them.  Most of the time the babies are running around the house naked, so I think it’s really time to potty train them.  I need to muster up the energy for that.  Not there yet. 

One other random thing that I get a lot of questions about—I dress them alike not simply because I want them to match, but because it’s mentally easier for me.  If we’re at a park and I need to scan and count 1-2-3, I don’t have to think about what they’re wearing, I just look for the same outfit. You may notice that Abby, the fraternal baby, is sometimes dressed different than the other two.  That is purely self-selection.  Unlike the others, she is happy to stay in PJs all day so I let her.  On the other hand, the other two LOVE clothes and changing clothes so it’s quite easy to get them dressed.

The Biggies

The biggies had a fabulous holiday season and spent lots of time playing with cousins and neighbors! However, after the holiday break, getting back in to the school routine has been ROUGH.  I feel like maybe I should get my van wrapped with a text that says “HOT MESS EXPRESS” because we roll up to school every day in my trash-can-on-wheels, I mean my van, looking like a huge mess that we are.  If you have any tips for making our mornings smoother, I’m all ears.  I already lay out the clothes etc. the night before.  Other than our rough mornings, the biggies are doing great.  The babies have been really liking books lately, so I’ve been having my two oldest read to them.  That’s a definite win-win! 

And as for me and this little blog . . . 

As for me, I’m feeling hopeful about making some positive changes in the new year—writing more, exercising more, etc.  You may recall that I started writing this blog as a New Year’s resolution last year!  And I stuck with it, minus the illness/lice absence in November and December!

It’s been amazing to connect with old and new friends via this blog.  I started it as a way to use my brain a little and create a sense of community.  Since then, it’s grown organically through your sharing and reading.  In fact, over the last year, my blog has been viewed over 42,000 times.  I have readers in Germany (hi, Allison!), France, Russia, Canada, the Ukraine, and Australia.  Who are you, friends?  I would love to hear from you!  

I’ve shared a lot of personal info on here, which can sometimes leave me feeling naked in the middle of a party, but I love that so many people can relate to things that I’ve written.  It is gratifying to share talk with others who’ve shared similar experiences, funny moments, and losses.  In particular, I think about a friend of my husband's who told me that he found comfort in my blog post about grief and losing my Dad.  He thanked me, and told me he had read it soon after losing his mom.  Nothing could've made me happier, because that was my purpose in writing about grief--I wanted others to know that we're not walking through it alone.   

Another one of my posts that generated lots of love and support was the one about my niece, Elise. That particular post was the most popular thing I’ve written to date.  It was read by thousands of people and shared on Facebook over 200 times.  What is most remarkable, though, is the tremendous outpouring of love, support, and acts of kindness that you provided in response to that post.  Here’s a quick summary:

• You donated funds to Mr. Holland’s Opus Foundation, which provides musical instruments to disadvantaged students.
• You said countless prayers for my sister and her family.
• You donated to the March of Dimes, whose mission is to fight prematurity.
• You shared your stories of infant loss.
• You donated baby gear to a local woman’s shelter.
• You donated 25 pounds of breastmilk (WOW!) to a NICU, where preemie babies would benefit from your donation.
• You offered your mass to Elise.
• You paid for someone’s coffee at the drive thru.
• You donated a doll to a child in need for Christmas.
• You adopted two children from an Angel Tree in memory of Elise.
• You spread holiday cheer via Christmas caroling.
• You donated to an immigrant right’s group.
• You bought your students pizza and discussed the importance of caring for the whole family when providing health care services.
• You bought meals for those in need.
• You called and texted my sister to tell her you were thinking of her and remembering her baby.

So, stay tuned for more writing soon.  I will try to remain uncensored as I share the everyday chaos and fun of life with my six little ones.  Until then, look for the hot mess express cruising around town with the six pack in tow.  And if you’re having a hard day, just remember: you’re not alone!      

This photo reminds of the Bear Hunt kids' book.  Do you know it? It's fun.
("We're going on a bear hunt. We're going to catch a big one.  What a beautiful day! We're not scared.")
Photo courtesy of my amazing SIL Katie, a photographer/toddler whisperer/magician extraordinaire.  

For Elise

“Water broke.  Need you here,” wrote my sister’s husband, Joe.  I stared at my phone, trying to comprehend how so much grief and sadness could be packaged into such small, simple words.  How could so few words say so much?  How could they completely eviscerate all hope? 

My sister, Maryellen, was 20 weeks pregnant with her beautiful baby girl, Elise. 

It was too early—much too early.  But as we all knew, once her water broke, there would be no stopping her delivery.  It was happening. 

On that day, which was one year ago today, my sister, Maryellen, and her husband welcomed their perfect little girl, Elise. Soon after, they had to say goodbye to their sweet baby girl. 

I think about that day a lot.  All the time, actually.  I think it’s because I felt completely helpless, and I knew that there was nothing—nothing—I could do or say to take my sister’s sadness away.  What can you say when someone is preparing to say goodbye to their child?  It is incomprehensible.

I am usually a positive person, so on hard days with my own kids, I find myself saying it could be worse.  I do this several times a day.  Everyone is sick, babies up all night?  It could be worse because we’re not dealing with life-threatening illnesses.  No naps for anyone and my husband working late?  It could be worse, at least they’ll go to bed early.  In short, it could always be worse.  Except for that day, when my sister welcomed her baby girl far too early.  There was nothing worse.  There was nothing worse than welcoming a perfect, beautiful baby who you’ve hoped and prayed for, and who you know will pass away.  There was nothing worse in the world, and I couldn’t say or do anything to fix it that day.  Instead, I was a bystander to my sister's grief and tried to just be present and absorb whatever sadness I could in hopes it would lessen hers and her husband's.

Sometimes I think back to when I was pregnant with my triplets and I told everyone to stop preparing for their arrival, as we weren’t sure when they would arrive and whether they’d be ok.  My sister asked, well then, what’s it all for?  What’s it all for?  Now, after the death of her child, I was left feeling the same way.  What’s it all for?  And for me, the following question is, what can I DO, and is there anything I can do to make this better?

I think I can help today, on Elise’s birth day.  You can help, too.  Today, I’d like to help keep Elise’s memory alive by spreading kindness, hope, and love.  That can mean buying someone’s coffee.  It can mean saying a prayer for my sister and her family. It can mean donating old baby clothes and gear to Goodwill, where someone who needs them can use them.  None of these acts will take much time or effort on our part, but these acts would mean the world to my sister and her family.  I know I can’t take away their grief today, but at least I—or rather, we—can create a small, glimmering silver lining to a day that is otherwise all clouds and rain.  

We love you, Elise, and you are always in our hearts.  

P.S.  If you spread some love today while remembering Elise, can you please share it with me? Post it to my facebook page, message me on FB, or email me (foxroussel@yahoo.com), and I will share it with my sister.  Thank you.

Chasing the Void

“But then I don’t get her feet or legs!” shouted my four-year-old to my eight-year-old. I had been reduced to body parts by my children. Pieces of myself for my kids to fight over.  

It was bedtime and I was lying on twelve tiny inches of my enormous king size bed while two of my kids were fighting over who would lie next to me.  I had refused to lie sandwiched between them, because, well, we all have our limits, right? And that was my limit.  My four-year-old was disappointed that she couldn’t claim my legs or feet, which she liked to burrow against with her busy feet. My eight-year-old claimed she hadn’t had enough time to snuggle with me.  So there they were, claiming pieces of me like candy from a pinata. 

Of all the things that are hard about motherhood, for me, the hardest part is the being “on” all the time, with all of your senses.  The noise, and the need to reply, engage, explain, or intervene, is constant.  And the touching, oh dear God the touching.  It’s incessant.  Even if you spend a healthy amount of time letting the kids entertain themselves, it still feels like you’re always on.  Ready to catch that falling toddler or sudden vomit.  Ready to explain why they can’t stuff an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet. Ready to duck before you get head butted by a toddler.

That’s why I find myself chasing the void lately, actively seeking out brief moments of peace and quiet. I know you'd recognize that magical place: it's the void of noise, touch, and being the one to handle whatever shit is thrown at you (sometimes literally) by your little ones.  That void—where you can just exist and nothing is required of you—is the stuff of dreams for mothers.  And it is also different for all my friends.  One friend does hot yoga because, in her words, it’s so hard she can’t think about anything else.  Not a single list running through her head, not a single worry invading her thoughts.  Another friend runs outside almost every day, because it is her time and just makes her feel better.  While exercise would be the better void, I prefer solo scenic drives in my car where I can just . . . be.  For me, it’s a time when I can know that no one will bump into me and slosh my coffee against my face.  When I can listen to music if I want, because that noise doesn’t demand anything of me except singing at the top of my lungs.  

Let’s face it, just being is hard when you’re a parent because there’s always someone needing something.  But you know what?  As much as they need breakfast or clean underwear, we, as parents, need to find the void.  Just being—whether it’s running, yoga, or belting out music in your car—is just as essential as changing the diapers, brushing their hair, or doing the laundry.  Here’s to chasing the void, friends, whatever that may be for you.  If you need me I’ll be in my car, slurping a piping hot latte and shout-singing along to pop hits on the radio.  

Dear Clothing Retailers: It's Way Too Hot for Those Ponchos and Sweaters

Dear Clothing Retailers,

Please stop.  Please stop pretending that we can wear your beautiful fall clothes here in the Deep South.    

Look, I want it to be fall as much as you do.  That’s why I dutifully put out my pumpkins and festive fall wreath even though it’s 92 degrees and 158% humidity.  It’s why I still get excited for seasonal coffee drinks, even though there’s no other indication that seasons have changed.  However, I simply cannot endure your oversized cable knit ponchos, wool coats, corduroy pants, and rugged sweaters.  Or the suggestion, as provided by your mannequins, that I wear layer upon layer upon layer of clothing. 

Do you know what happens when we wear that oversized sweater poncho here in the South in October?  We become one-person sweat lodges, like the ones that people died in from overheating.   That lovely plaid wool jacket?  There may be one day this year I could actually wear it, and that day probably won’t come until January.  Also, those beautiful scarves you have draped around the necks of every mannequin? It would become a sweat rag that I could use to wipe my face after about ten minutes outside.

Listen, I love our Southern version of fake fall.  I schlep the kids to the pumpkin patch and sweat buckets with all the other parents.  I buy the candy corn and giant inflatable pumpkins for our yard and I make delicious pumpkin bread.  In short, I pretend that the seasons are actually changing, even though we all know that we’ve just moved from Summer Phase I to Summer Phase II, which lasts until November. 

There’s where you come in: I think you should dump the ponchos and coats, and instead roll out a Summer Phase II clothing line.  You could even use all those rich fall colors—deep burgundy, mustard yellow, and navy—but just skip the pants and make shorts and t-shirts.  You’d sell a lot of them, because as much as we embrace fake fall here in the South, we just can’t pretend that it’s cool enough to wear your real fall clothes. 

So happy fall, y’all.  Just not in those ponchos, corduroys, and scarves.  Shorts.  Think shorts.  

Signed,

One Sweaty Southerner

The Triplets Are Almost Two!

The days and weeks are flying by, and in just two short weeks, my babies will be two. TWO!!!! I cannot believe it. When I was pregnant with them and for months after, I couldn’t tell anyone I had triplets without stifling nervous laughter. It seemed so . . .  unbelievable.  Surreal.  Laughable, really.  

I remember when my mom and I had a rare lunch away from the hospital while the babies were in the NICU. She told our waitress that I had two-week-old triplets. I nodded, laughed nervously, and then waited for it to seem real. For months after I had the babies, I couldn't bring myself to say I had triplets because it just didn't seem real. 

I think it takes a long time to process news like triplets. It was just five short months from the day I found out it was triplets to the day they were born. I know people deal with much bigger news than that in a shorter period of time, but wow, five months didn’t seem like enough time to prepare for their arrival or wrap our heads around the idea that we’d suddenly be a party of 8.

Now that they’re almost two, most of the time I can tell people I have six kids, and triplets, without laughing. I can whip out my phone and show them videos and pictures and tell them funny stories about my crazy, busy little toddlers and their big sisters. I can answer questions from curious strangers without feeling completely uncomfortable. It has all become fairly routine to me. 

Am I sad they’re turning two and not really babies anymore? I don’t know. I don't think so. Having three babies is a completely different experience than one. You don’t have the luxury of snuggling with one baby and rocking that baby to sleep every night. You don't have the luxury of extra time, period. The pace is frenetic, and the phases are so intense that it’s hard to miss them once they’ve passed.  

At the moment, I am enjoying the fact that certain things are now easier for me. I can take them to the gym and they can all walk in themselves and wave bye-bye as they head into the gym nursery. They can tell me “love you, mama.” They can usually tell me what they want. They can sing, dance, and entertain each other. Sometimes I wonder if they know where one ends and the next begins, because even though they’re very different individually, they also see themselves as a unit, too. They look out for each other (especially Abby). They love to be together, and they want to know where the third baby is whenever one is not with them.     

Just last night I was up at 1 a.m. rocking them because they woke each other up and all wanted to get out and be together. All three of them had laid claim to a small piece of my lap and had settled in together as I rocked them, their heads bumping every five seconds. They didn’t seem to mind. They're used to being together, in each other's space. Eventually we found a lovey for each one and I got them back to sleep. Morning came fast for me, and, with it, three toddlers jumping around in their cribs shouting to each other, laughing and playing.

It may have taken almost two years, but I can now say it is no longer surreal. What’s more surprising is that there was ever a time when they were NOT part of our family, like all my older girls too.  Now, I think to myself: of course you’re here. You were meant to be here all along, just like your big sisters. That said, every once in a while I do still laugh when I say I have six kids, including triplets. But these days when I laugh, most of the time it's not a nervous laughter of disbelief. It's a joyful, happy laughter about how crazy life can be and what a wild ride it's been for the last two years. I think the best is yet to come, too.     

Elizabeth, Ruby, and Abigail

A Glimpse into Life at Home with Six Little Ones

Hi Friends!  Long time, no post!  The end of summer and start of school has kept me crazy busy.

I just realized I never shared the InRegister magazine article!  I wrote an article for them about what life is like at home with my six little ones.  I think most moms will relate to the challenges that I mentioned in the article.  Plus, you should check out the photos of us looking so clean!  Ha!  The link is below.  Special thanks to Ashley Gordon, Jeannie Frey Rhodes, and Jeanne McNeil.  Enjoy! And I promise to post another blog soon!

The Mother Load: as seen in InRegister magazine

Or, copy and paste this link into your browser: https://www.inregister.com/features/mother-load-stay-home-moms-sanity-saving-secrets

Also, check out my cover girls checking themselves out at the gas station!  They thought it was so exciting to see themselves on the cover! And I thought it was really cool to see my words in print, too!