The Triplet Unit

I'm worried Jerry and I are treating the triplets as, well, The Triplets; as if they are one unit and not three individuals. Like at dinner last night. Sira wasn't hungry, Tsega sort of picked, and Bereket ate like he cared (Sira, it's the same polenta you loved last night, just colder and the garlic has really seeped in--eat!). I started to shut the whole show down when I realized I let majority and even minority rule rather then catering to individual needs. Same with sleep. I see a pair of eyes get rubbed and everybody goes to bed. This has worked well because who wouldn't want three babies of same age sleeping and eating at the same time; how else can the parents catch some breath and keep chaos minimal. . .

This is a problem. I've been skimming many blogs lately, doing the deadly developmental comparisons (the "her kid does this, my kid does that" thing) and I've concluded at 16 months our boys' language is not coming as it should. Their word list is at about four (nana (=banana) and dada being the strongest, most consistent words). The triplets mimic and mock us and each other, but will stop short at using meaningful words. Doc says 50 (50!?) words by two and no worries about intervention until then. We have time, language isn't officially delayed as of yet. (And this is only one of about 5 major worrisome things concerning the boys currently stewing together in my worry wart head.)

The problem is Jerry and Me, I believe. We talk to the unit, cuddle it, play with it, read and sing to it, feed and rest it. But Tsega, Bereket, and Sira each need more one-to-one time where intimate conversations and story times take place at a less rapid and chaotic pace and no brothers are around to snatch books out of hands or fall over in between me and said baby. Language delays are common in triplets partly because of this unit treatment by parents. More common than in twins and I suspect more of a problem when the triplets (or more) don't have older siblings or daycare peers to pattern after. Seems everytime I'm trying to get some quality time with a receptive baby, trying to read a story or name things around the house or just talk, I have to stop and help another baby up from his fall or tell the other baby to stop banging the glass. Seems like in between all the playing, exercise, sleeping, soothing, eating, and "processing" as I call it (diapers, baths, etc), there's no time left. There I'll be babbling along with the rest of them (it's fun!), letting them climb all over me, smothering them with kisses and coos, or watching mesmerized as they waddle around together in the yard. But I'm not saying much, not labeling, not pointing enough out. Like my jaws are too tired (maybe all that kissing).

I heard of some 2-parent families occasionally breaking up twins so that each parent gives/gets the one-on-one, but this won't work for triplets, obviously. Then I think, well I'll take two and Jerry can take the other one weekend a month. . . when we're not tiling showers and sanding sheet rock (when is that?). But then I get into this dilemma about which two to chose, or we could rotate but then it only amounts to a few days a year. . .

Truth is, I love being with everybody, all three babies plus Jerry, although at the same time I'm always longing for more time with each individual child (and husband). I've often wondered lately what Tsega, Bereket, and Sira would be like as singletons. How different they would be, how different we would treat them (but then there would be no "them"). But in this life, they come together. All for one and one for all, my mighty united sibling front!

Sira!

Tsega! (I know, the hat's not working. . . Jerry says he's got no ears)

Bereket!

A conversation about the header photo above. . .
Cindy: Why are all the kids in the toy box [boy box?]?
Jerry: Because they climbed in.
Cindy: Why are all their toys out of the box?
Jerry: Because they pulled them all out.
Cindy: Oh.

And that's Sira in the striped shirt (by reduction you should figure out who's who among the rest of the triplet unit).

No Tricks OR Treats

So, hmmmm, am I the only parent blogger out there with small children who isn't posting pictures of costumed kids in honor of my favorite holiday last week? Am I the only one who thinks one year olds don't need to trick or treat since most of the candies are choking hazards anyway? I'm afraid to think of my guys with a whole bag of chocolate (I don't know what's scarier, the mess or the effect on their little systems)! I forgot to even rent a horror movie let alone dress my kids up and swing through the neighborhoods. But remember, I'm also the Grinch who failed to produce a birthday cake for three first birthdays last June. Jerry's already rolling his eyes about Christmas (they don't need any new toys and they don't care about this stuff right now anyway). Ah, well, next year boys we go All-American (or All-Western). I'm not sure that's a good thing.

Goofin' Off

Here's a brief synopsis of the triplets' silly nonsense from the last two weeks. Their senses of humor are really taking off along with their trouble makings. This first picture was taken just after I rescued Bereket from being smothered to death by brother Sira (pictured) who decided to squeeze into the cabinet on top of Bereket.
No time to take a picture of the human pretzel, but it's a good thing I didn't totally ignore the muffled crying I heard from the other room. Seriously, I had trouble detangling these guys and Tsega didn't help as he tried to climb in while I was trying to pull them out. It's like musical babies around here (you should see me getting the boys out from a closet or room they shouldn't be in. . . get one baby out from behind the door, the other waddles back in, get him out, the first waddles back in while the third is trying to shut the door on everybody and the second waddles back in and so on and so on. . . )

Our house is baby-proofed to the max, except for this one item which relies only on a weak barrier of discipline. A thin glass bookshelf door that may break upon impact, especially when baby uses an object to bang on said door. Sira, don't bang the glass (don't even think about it). Daily they approach the door with a glance back to make sure we're watching; up goes the hand ever so slowly as if testing the temperature of the glass, then out comes a huge smile and bang bang bang (Sira, Tsega, Bereket, NO NO NO!).

Tsega, no! Sira, not funny, stop it!


Et tu, Bereket?

Peek-a-boo. . .

Happy face (just wanted to prove that Tsega's usually serious face posted on this blog is not the real him). . .

Goofy face. . .

Poopy face. . .

Dirty face. . .

Rag face?

Bereket thought he was hilarious with a rag over his head. Can you believe the boys started fighting over the rag so that I had to give each baby his own rag to wear?!



Sassy, satisfied, and smokin' (the pancakes, that is). . .

Bruised face :(

The clinginess from the trip is subsiding as are Tsega's toddler flare ups (for now). We're not quite back to schedule, but nearly. As boring and inflexible as it sounds, a schedule makes baby happy and sleep well. It's not that they know what time it is, but they know what order we do things and how dark it is outside when we do them (and only naps, feedings, and bed times are scheduled, of course). We also just switched to one nap a day and bed time seems to get earlier and earlier, especially after the time change (I think it was 7:30 last night). I was lucky to get two two-hour-a-day naps for as long as I did. But perhaps the biggest news of the last two weeks. . . drum roll. . . (NO, we're not pregnant or adopting). . . the boys are sleeping in THEIR nursery in THEIR cribs all TOGETHER at night for the first time! It's great to hear them chirping and laughing together across the house in the mornings (while Tsega sleeps through it all) and to be able to get up and walk across the house without a baby seeing us and demanding to be picked up and fed. Freedom :).

One last thing, this doesn't fit here, but thought I'd squeeze in this tidbit for my own fun. We noticed recently that the boys look up at airplanes in the sky and point. Even tiny tiny far-off ones. At least this indicates to me decent vision and hearing. Things not to sneeze at. And Bereket's scratches on his face from the fall above are nearly healed. That's all I got today. :)

Matilda Steals the Spotlight

Playing in the garden, eating mud. . .





Meow


Matilda would eventually lead us to cat #4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and so on. . . and I used to be a one-cat kind of girl, ha! Because of Jerry, who couldn't separate cage-mates, I once had two cats. Annie and Sal. I would see Matilda, usually pregnant, time to time in the neighborhood (back when I lived in one) and was always struck by her beauty and friendliness. She was homeless. During her last pregnancy, I plucked her off the streets and told her she was mine. A couple of weeks later she bore 6 kittens, five males and one sole female (Little Girl who is still with us). We still have Sonny, Rudolph, and I mentioned Little Girl. Leonard is no longer with us but stayed for many years. Together with Annie (may Sal rest in Peace), Marty, Cat-Cat, and sometimes Gretal (she'll eat our food but won't let us touch her), that makes the cat population currently at 8 (I may be forgetting somebody). The rest of the cats just showed up on their own and claimed us. There's also two dogs, Clementine the red coon hound and Louie the hound mutt (Louie was never invited). (Beloved Clay went permanently missing during our time in Ethiopia.) The kids love all the animals, but only Marty, Cat-Cat, Matilda, and now Annie will let them screech and paw at them. The rest run. The dogs prefer to sleep without children when they're not out terrorizing the countryside. One big happy family.

Back on the Prairie

Ho hum, the monotony of home and schedules is back. Almost. Soon the boys will remember again about bed time and naps as we re-tune their clocks. Three 16 month old babies, an RV, and the lonesome highway was great fun!!! The poor dears did splendidly strapped to their car seats for long hours and climbing over each other in a 28 ft vehicle. Yeah, I know, the babies won't remember it. That doesn't matter and don't buy into that nonsense. Because experiencing the world is healthy for babies, good for their development, and maybe there's no memory, but we exercise our family bond and refresh our spirits. I miss being joined at the hip with my boys and Jerry for two weeks in tight quarters. Jerry and I always said we like to be independent and do our own thing, but together :).

We made the biggest mistake of the trip the first night. We drove all day, into the night, the babies were behaving royally good. But we forgot to consider where everybody will sleep and Jerry and I wanted a little freedom in the RV after the boys went to bed. So after a few nights of fussing, crying, waking up, & refusing to sleep, we figured out the best arrangement. The "master bedroom", the one at the back end with a door, went to the boys. All three slept across the bed. One parent slept with them. The other parent slept over the cab. As far as naps, they came on demand. The great part of the RV is no crappy road food to make you feel unclean. We prepared our own food and to keep babies happy, every couple of hours filled the pocket in their bibs with wheat bread, bananas, or cheerios, their three favorite foods. Love the "nana" song and dance. BTW, I finally found the secret to almost no-spill snacking for babies who aren't strapped into chairs. We have Bjorn's pocket bibs, and we simply insert food into the pockets and baby feeds himself. Catches spills AND converts to a spill proof snack container.

I think my babies grew up on this trip. Sira and Bereket are like molar city now, seemingly overnight; I don't see any more room in their mouths and now the canines are showing their white stubs. Tsega still only has 5 teeth! Guess his resources went to the hair. Speaking of T, we got real-life toddler tantrums flaring up from my man which also seemed to start on the trip. The good ones where you scream bloody murder and lie flat on the floor because mama or papa did something he didn't like. Like pull (and pull and pull and twist, and plead--this baby is strong!) the cord from his grip or the broom that he keeps whacking everybody's heads with accidentally. There was even one over-tired expression of what looked like pure anger at me and a not so nice display of it with his fists--wow, I didn't see that coming so soon; that's OK baby, the trip was hard on a baby's biology, we'll get through troubling times together. Seemed the whole trip Tsega had some sort of baton in his grip waving around as he waddled from one thing to the next and he never tires of investigating absolutely everything.



Bereket and Sira are my builders and stackers and lap lovers. Especially papa's lap lately. My goodness, they couldn't let Jerry leave their sight for a second on this trip and he had one clinging to him at all times. I'm still hoping to become everybody's favorite parent eventually, but so far only Tsega thinks I'm #1. I don't get it at all, humph! My favorite baby is the one in my lap.





They all got the chance to practice climbing up and down steps (and falling) and are now good at sensing edges and climbing down off the step, couch or bed rather than the accidental roll off (oops, how I hate that thud sound).

The best part of the trip was watching my sons interact with my family, seeing them blossom socially and venturing through every new place with explorer curiosity, and feeling the intense love my mother has for her grand kids. And we surprised my grandma with the visit (maybe not a good idea to shock a 90 year old lady) and for the first time, and sadly probably the last time, she got to see my boys in the flesh. We were the hit of her retirement home and grandma was Queen Bee.

We drove through Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado. We saw one bald eagle and loads of antelope. We spent time in beautiful Northern California first (my heart lies amongst the manzanita) with my brother than headed to South Cal to see my folks. Oh, how I miss the sensations of a redwood forest. We drove down the eastern part of California, skirting Yosemite, a portion of the state I've never seen before. My favorite state to drive through is Utah; something about those red rocks, rivers, canyons, and junipers. We had great food at this groovy fish place in Redlands, Calif (of course good ol South Cal serves amazing Mexican rice and beans to go with--California knows food) and the owner apparently spends time in Ethiopia and raises money for charity work involving Ethiopian children. Look at all the beautiful children's faces on the wall behind us (that's my mom, hi mom!).

What a crazy place is Southern Cal. Seems what stood out most to me was utter unsustainability and massive arteries of traffic pulsating, throbbing, twisting through the landscape. Oil oil oil. And there we were burning it big time in our RV on the LA freeways surrounded by Jaguars, Mercedes, and BMWs.

We left Calif the day the winds came and the fires started. The scariest part of the trip was driving through the Mojave dessert in high speed winds. My parents little cabin in the mountains burned down. May the poor thing rest in peace. I remember sensing the danger at the beginning of the trip as we drove through Northern Calif and down into Southern. We saw acres and acres of recently burned forests, heaps of dead trees, hills of dry brush and grasses, we know about the bark beetle epidemic, I thought, what a vulnerable landscape. Vulnerable indeed. Despite it all, I really do think California is the best state in the country, but I don't think I could live there again. And nothing beats living in the redwoods of Northern Calif as I did for years, but as the song goes, leave before you get too soft. Even so, I miss it.

California, Here We Come

Right back where I started from. . . my native state. We're packing up the triplets, renting an RV, and heading to California to see my family, Yosemite, and some National Parks along the way (hopefully no Wal Mart parking lots). Think Lucy and Desi in the movie The Long, Long Trailer. We'll be gone two weeks, so blog is on vacation. By by.

Until we meet again, just a quick update. The choo choo wagon is a smash. See, there they go. . .

We had our 15 month shots and check ups. The boys are healthy, I am utterly grateful for good health, although Bereket and Sira are still, not surprisingly, falling off the charts for height. Sira is a little chubbier than Bereket probably because he isn't quite as active as B. They are 22 & 23 poundsish and a short 28 inches tall. For now, no worries says the doc. Stupid USA charts, I feel like we're in a competition. Tsega is the same place on the charts as last appointment: 40% height, 80% weight (almost 27 pounds and 31 inches).

We celebrated Prairie Festival here in Kansas (held by our place of work). We gave talks, tours, and we met the governor, Kathleen Sebelius, a female democrat and re-elected at that (maybe Kansas isn't as red as I thought--ha ha, in my dreams). I'm mean for admitting this, but we grew a little tired of smiling so much and stopping to answer questions about the triplets. I don't want to be known in town as the mean triplet mama, so you got to put on a good face. Actually, what tired us is the happy presumptions that our lives with triplets must be unwanted chaos from space. It's not, it's not. Maybe we should be working harder or more stressed, I don't know. Maybe I'm getting old and my eyes are perpetually tired, giving the wrong impressions. We've done harder things in life than raise triplets (so far, maybe we'll see in a few more months).

For the second time in is life, I had to detangle Tsega from a school aged child. This time it was a 6 year old boy. I warned Luke not to get too close, that Tsega wouldn't be able to resist the bright beads around his young, tender neck; that he's strong. The necklace didn't break, but the boy did. Tears! Luckily I know his mama and she thought it was pretty funny even when her son was crying in her lap. Oh, my! To defend Tsega, he is not the slightest bully with his littler brothers (never mind that intense expression above, he's all about loving).

Here's Tsega lounging around with Rudolph in his old car seat (then getting out of it). . .



And sweet Bereket playing with sand. . .

I will leave you with this very short and possibly bizarre video. My mom wanted to know more about "high chair races", so here's what I'm talking about. I know, Sira looks insane and disturbed--he is NOT. All the boys do this and they all look equally wacko (but happy). Then poor Tsega forgot which chair he was sitting in--the hard one that doesn't move.

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Peace out!

Sira, winner of 'Best of People' category!

Congratulations Sira! So it's not just me, the world thinks my boys are beautiful too. The artist, who spontaneously dropped by in a hunt for sunflowers and found our boys along the way, submitted online a photo of Sira in a 'Best of People' digital-photo-of-the day-contest and Sira won. To vote for him to win best of the month, click HERE and find that cute face pictured above (you can only vote once, so vote wise, vote for Sira). OK, so it's not Baby Beautiful USA contest, but he could win that too!