Any Morning and Most Nights

Wake up triplets! Awww, look at those sleepy chubbies above (old pictures from last May). I took the video below this morning (I really should decorate those nursery walls more and never mind the 1/2 finished hall that leads to their room (we were gonna put in a hall closet in there until we found out we were getting triplets, so instead made one big closet in their nursery which ate up the space for the hall closet . . .sssshhh, don't get started on the house!)). They wake up puffy around the eyes just like mama.

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Ahhhh, mornings are good now that we sleep most nights, though not all, from moon to sun without incident. Although I suffer terribly from insomnia half the week through no fault of the triplets. Even Sira, who spent most of December and January sleeping with Jerry and me due to some major midnight crankiness (and refused to go to bed in the nursery during this time), cradles snug in his bed with his brothers by his side without protest. Every morning starting about 6:30 the little birds start chirping in their tiny 100 ft2 nursery and turn their lullaby machines on and off. By the time we stroll through there (no hurries) about 7:00 or 7:30, they usually have thrown all blankets, books, pillows, binkies, and stuffed animals out of the cribs. And I guess with all the jumping up and down they mobilize the cribs (even with the casters off) so that they're all shifted and crooked.

Bedtime is 7:30 or 8:00 and the Bedtime Routine, oh so important for toddlers, goes on for about a 1/2 hour. The routine is like a sleeping pill (although I nearly hate to submit to schedules and routines, they indeed work for this age group) and goes like this: no TV, low lights, soft music, water, books, binkies, and repeated statements relating to bedtime such as, time to go to sleep now, time for bed, night night, ready for bed now? . Then we carry some and hold hands with the rest off to bed, tuck them in, give each a book, turn on the lullaby machines, and we're done. Jerry and I feel like bedtime champs, like we should win some kind of award or something.

I also believe strongly in sympathetic parenting. All that nonsense in baby book after baby book and other parents about allowing babies to cry for long periods, never picking baby up from cribs during the night, not answering screaming baby in the middle of the night--especially for babies under 12 months old, strikes me as heartless. Imagine you in your bed, you're awake, you're confused, disoriented, cold, in pain, terribly lonely or sad, scared, you scream for help because you are indeed helpless, and nobody comes. Or they rush in and rush out just as fast without responding to your deepest need. So while I cherish sleep, a screaming yelping baby is always welcome in my bed (truth is, I love it and wish we had an emperor sized bed for the entire family).

Now that I've bragged about bedtime, I'm sure tonight all three will wake up screaming and make me cry. ;)

No Surprises (except for the bald eagle)

Even Sira flipping off the chair onto a hard floor is no cause for alarm (but only because he got right back up, of course!). He repeated the same flip later that day off his booster high chair; he climbed up when I wasn't looking and flipped out accidentally--for about the third time this week! How much can one head and one mama take? Geez they make baby heads hard, thank G. Really, I'm not a bad mama, I'm not. I didn't know he was going to flip at the moment I grabbed my camera and turned it on the boys playing. . .

Anyway, here are the boys playing, bumping heads, and shortening the furniture's lifespan. Look at those adorable chubbo legs. Don't you want to kiss those knees and pinch those diaper bums? And don't miss Bereket's cheese and Tsega's gymnastics. And if you're a Radiohead fan, turn up the volume (it also explains the title--anything to plug my favorite band).

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Later that day we were finally able to go outside, walk though the grass, get muddy, look at the river flowing by, and feel a warm sun on our faces. Man what a winter it's been and we are so sick of walls! And to top it off, a bald eagle flew overhead. That's at least one good thing about Kansas: bald eagles during the winter season. A couple of years ago I would get an itch to see one, and all I had to do was go outside and wait about 5 minutes before one flew overhead. But this year I haven't seen a one until yesterday (and today), just when the season is almost over. It wouldn't have been a real Kansas winter without at least one eagle sighting. A sign of more good things to come, I'm sure :).

Short Dialogue with Sira

Me: Sira, do you have to turn absolutely everything into a weapon?
Sira: --no response--

I remember this conversation, but not really the context. Something about hitting Bereket on top of the head with a spatula.

Blog Interrupted: A Look Back

I'm not trying to be coy by not blogging in over a month. My camera broke (who in the world put the dish wand--you know, the sponge thingy on a handle that cleans dishes--on top of my camera!?) and what's a post without pictures (just words I guess, har har). New camera's on the way . . . Anyway, the lack of new pictures got me looking through old pictures from about this time last year. Wow, what a trip. Such fat little bald limbless things they were, all head and torso, flawless complexions, so ultra perfectly cute, but still so unfamiliar they were to us in complex ways. I don't know if it's different with newborns birthed from your own womb, but it took quite awhile before I knew these boys as well as I do and for them to know us. I have to admit, although my love was instant (and it doesn't always happen this way), it took nearly all last year to convince me that my children have fully internalized us as being their bon-a-fide parents.

There are things I terribly miss from this time last year. Like the lack of mobility (although I am grateful for their mobile bodies) and little fighting, the submissive-fresh-innocent-angelic-ultra cute and perfect baby qualities. But every new stage offers something magical and exciting even as I mourn the passing of dead stages.

Looking Back and Today. . .

Bereket.


The most charming and smiley of the three in the beginning; a favorite among the nannies while in care in Ethiopia. Now perhaps the most sensitive of the three. The first to reach major milestones up until the boys got to walking (Tsega walked just before one, Bereket at 13 months, and Sira at 14 months.). He is the one I can't say "no" to. The nannies told me he would grow very big and fat, but he is currently the littlest of my three. He presses buttons with his middle finger, which I find adorable. If he is upset, it hurts me the most and I really need for him to be happy all the time. He is probably the worst at sharing. He was so into this cheapy little push car he rode on, but he freaked anytime somebody else rode it (the boys will lift up from the bottom and try to tip their brother off the car so they can ride!). Anyway, the car had to go into hiding. Bummer. He is otherwise sugary sweet and does a great gorilla imitation.

Tsega.


Can you believe how fat he was? He went from about 12 to 18 pounds in the first month home. His suddenly-big-body made mobility difficult for him. But in about 2 short months he went from rolling for the first time all the way up to walking. A real hand-full and high-needs in the beginning. The guy would scream and claw at nap and bed time. He rarely smiled and didn't seem to like us. Now he is happy-go-lucky, a real charmer, a groovy dancer (really, the guy's got a natural inner coolness), mama's boy, and into absolutely everything. He's strong as a bear and has no patience for stacking blocks or playing with puzzles, but he loves reading books and that's all he might stop moving for. Not so great at lap sitting either, although he constantly wants up on the couch with us (only to slide back down again) and gives lots of tight hugs all day. A hugger from a very early age. Unfortunately, he creates the most tension somehow with his brothers and last weekend they seemed to be trying to exclude him as best they could. How sad!

Sira.


Such a face! I feel like I blog about him the least (incidentally, that was him in the orange t-shirt in my last video in last post) but the guy gets lots of attention at home. In fact, he has slept in between us or next to us in a crib for the last two months while his brothers slumber in the nursery. He was the tiniest one in Ethiopia, and indeed so tiny at about 10 pounds at 5 months old. He's grown into a little butter ball. (His belly! So kissable!). Indeed, I never send him or Bereket down a slide on their own for I fear their little top heavy bodies will tumble down the slide like bowling balls. He loves to "sing". He's very much like his identical brother Bereket, but less sensitive, although he goes through serious cranky stages time to time. He will arch his back so rapidly he nearly springs out of your arms when he's in a mood. He is our best block stacker and can quickly stack at least 7 blocks for long time now; somebody usually interrupts him before he can go beyond that. It seemed he was always trailing behind his brothers just a smidge, but now we think he may be ahead of them in terms of language and sounds. He loves to mimic yawns, speech inflections (hums "UH-ohhh" "THANK-you" instead of saying it), blinking, whatever fancies him. He thinks he's hilarious when I go in for a kiss and he laughs and pushes my face back (hmmm, I hope you didn't just mumble, I don't blame him).

As a group, I want to mention a few current fun things all the boys are doing at 19 months: removing sofa cushions then using them as stepping stools to climb up on the sofa (where they then proceed to jump up and down); constantly handing us small seemingly chokable objects from off the ground (a lent ball, a dried up pasta shell, etc) as if to say, here mama, I might choke on this , for which they always get a Thank You and round of applause (actually they've been doing this long time and I don't worry about them stuffing little objects in their mouths so much anymore); handing us pretend objects when they are craving a round of applause and a big Thank You but cannot find anything to hand us; tickling brother's feet when the tickler is free and the ticklee is defenseless in a high chair; still tipping and pushing chairs and ripping up our sofa, including pulling the stuffing out of it (eck, I don't like this!). I could go on but . . . I won't. :)

There isn't hardly a thing that one brother does, that the other two don't copy (that can be good and bad). Monkey see, monkey do is definitely our house mantra.

Perfect Days

Oh, it’s such a Perfect Day everyday at our house, just like Lou Reed sings (one of my absolute favorite songs); OK, maybe his song was about love, or the beginnings of fresh love was my feeling, but the way he sings it stimulates all those perfect less-than-wakeful moments from my mind that are made up of feelings and sensations rather than details and events. Fantasies. And so it is fantasy that as a mother of triplets (or as a former non-mother, for that matter) I’m laid back, patient, and chilled, but I thank you for your compliments, dear dear readers. I do try for all these things, and maybe we do indeed have our hands full as millions repeatedly tell us, although I still get a funny look on my face when I get the, oh it must be so awful, so glad it’s not me-related comments, since, honestly, I feel like I'm disappointing by not really relating horror stories. (At these times I’m usually thinking, do you know how lucky we are to have one child, let alone triplets!?) Rough days or moments happen, they do indeed, but it’s the perfect moments that matter and we have our hands full of these.

Clinginess, fights, biting, crankiness, sleepless nights, tantrums, willfulness, we get it all, but not usually x3 in a single moment. But man, we get that too! But why complain or fight it? We knew these days would come. Yeah, sometimes I lose it just a little, need a time-out, get that ugly mean-mama grimace, wanna scream, but I expected that too. But maybe you’re right about me, because things like laundry and ripped furniture aren’t the things to worry about. Unless my child is facing illness or otherwise serious problems, I can’t complain, I can only be grateful that my boys have adventure, mobility, and imagination; that they have each other and we have them.

I think sometimes being a triplet is more stressful than parenting triplets. How unfair that one brother never experiences undivided attention since the moment of conception. It perhaps hits Bereket the hardest who really hates sharing and wishes everybody would leave his car alone. If it gets bad and he really can't take it, he stays swaddled in my sling, sometimes grasping a meaningless object, just to claim something as his very own. He doesn’t like being trampled on so much either, so I’m happy to see the boys wrestling Tsega to the ground and taking horsey rides on him, not Bereket, because the big guy can take it. Hopefully soon I’ll catch their conga line dance on video as well.

I'll remind myself of this post and the perfect days next time that grimace shows up. . . like when we're cuddling before bed reading books, when the boys mimic animal sounds, sing, and dance; when they hug each other or give us a kiss, and when they're making each other laugh, playing happily together, or tickling each other's feet; when they're copying each other, inventing new games, running round the house, or finding new ways to unite and solve challenges. . .

Tickle, tickle, tickle.



They hug books to sleep rather than stuffed animals.


"Boo!"


Ring the bell.

Fun house.

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Caught!

I gotta leave the room sometime, otherwise the food on the kitchen floor dries to a hard, flat, colorful spot (this spot is covering more surface area everyday) and I'm getting a little tired of my little helpers pushing chairs up to the sink to do dishes (they knock each other down and eat dish soap). Not to mention the broom fights; yes, they love their brooms, but the big broom and swifter are too good to resist and I think Tsega could do the floors all day long if Bereket and Sira would allow him (translation, not bite his hands to let go). And every now and then somebody out there calls me (Miss Popularity, ha!) and I can't hear anybody on the phone; lots of "yeah", "ho-ho!", "mmm-hmmm"s coming from my end, because truth is, I can't hear you and get tired of saying "WHAT?".

I almost got a kiddie corral ages ago, but I don't think they would have stood for that. Anyway, our entire living & dining rooms are closed off from the rest of the house and there's nothing in there that can hurt them (except each other), but they are finding more ways to hurt the house. Like all the scratches, dents, and scuffs on the wood floor (oh, that hurts!). And the trim they tore off the couch and one chair. And the furniture rearranging; they seem to prefer the couch and chairs in the middle of the room. And the chair tipping which at times turns to chair rolling.


And why did I leave the laundry just sitting there within arms reach? So they can play dress up, of course. This also explains the big t-shirt on Sira in the above photo. Even boys love dress up (awwww!).


And then there's the climbing into the VCR cabinet.


Back to dress up. I caught them on a very short video playing with laundry, but poor Bereket added a dampening crying sound-effect to the video; I assure you his sadness was trivial, either because Tsega took the clothes he wanted to dress up in or because I wouldn't give him my camera. But any crying is a little heart breaking to a mama's ears, is it not?

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That's all there was in 2008

Grandma torture . . .

Good by old, hello new. The departure of 2008 reminds me of other milestone farewells we bade during the last 12 months. By by cribs, sippie cups (except cars), the 20-something months, chair tipping, a lot of snaps, 90% of food and utensil throwing, bath hating, size 5 diapers (hello size 6 and hoping the next move we make is not onto adult-sized diapers), restaurants, toddler-proof door knobs, sleeping in past 7:15 (pitter patter and bed cuddles is not a bad alarm clock), and T said good by to size 2T and a whole lot of hair.

In honor of the great year that just past, ala video montage style, I've highlighted the greatest moments in the life with triplets from the last 12 months. Excuse the weird first song (old Peggy Lee redone by Chaka Khan), it struck my fancy as I thought of what life is really like triplets. Keep dancing, break out the booze, and have a ball.

Happy New Year!!!

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Merry Belated Cristmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, & Happy Ganna!

Where have we been? Right here all along cooped up with a mind full of stuff and 10 days without electricity. Ice storms, snow, crashing trees, sparking power lines, temporary loss of our driveway, and personal business left us a little edgy, but always cozy, warm, well-fed, and most importantly, together . The ice storm was beautiful, grandiose, and just standing in it and listening to limbs and trees crashing into the river and around our house was majestic (the trees will recover). It was worth a million candles.

So how do we keep three cabin-fevered toddlers and two parents happy during winter storms?

Find toys that the triplets can share and play together with nicely (I mean the ones that don't cause biting riots--not easy). It is music to my ears when they pitter-patter around the house chasing each other, screeching and laughing, and playing games like hide 'n' seek.


Climb on furniture. Am I reaching or does Tsega look a little Holy in this picture below?


Sit and look pretty.

Keep the bowl of binks overflowing.

Climb on furniture AND do dishes. That's right, not only can they climb up adult sized chairs (and ladders! Tsega made it to rung #4 while Jerry was putting up Christmas lights before mama pulled him off. . . ), but now I guess we gotta child-proof up to the rafters because a certain toddler pushes the chair (or toy box) to somewhere he wants to go and climbs on top to reach things he's not supposed to be reaching for in the first place. Like last night when I found him sitting on the laptop computer on top of the kitchen counter!!! The guy is obsessed with all things domestic and gets up to the sink to do dishes. And since monkey-see monkey-do rules, bad behavior (or good milestone-reaching to put it in positive terms because I am always grateful for their healthy development) is quickly taught and learned.

Un-child proof the kitchen heater (yep, they climbed underneath about 5 minutes after Jerry built the cage--Oi vay!).

Eat and eat. Bereket prefers adult utensils now and shucks the baby spoons.

Bundle everybody up and drive--anywhere.

Enjoy Christmas, of course. Their favorite gifts were the three little vintage corn whisk brooms I found on eBay. My favorite gift of theirs was the beautiful clothing from Ghana my mom brought home from a recent trip. I tried to get a decent Christmas photo before their clothes got food on them but my victims were reluctant. The cracker bribe helped.



And no pictures of them on Santa's lap. How cruel to place your child on an ugly strange Santa with a fake beard (and the one in our mall had open wounds on his hands to boot!).

Our only Christmas traditions before the triplets came involved a tree (no tree this year--believe me, with three little boys and mob mentality, it would have been disastrous), David Sedaris's annual elf story on NPR (I love this guy!), and Vince Guiardi's Charlie Brown Christmas music. Now maybe Jerry will let me include all the cartoon Christmas specials.

I hope all your holidays were full of peace, love, and happiness. Bereket (blessings) to all. And a special shout-out and cyber hug to those who have emailed me in the last month or so about the triplets and to those who have left kind comments on my blog. Human being support means everything to me. I leave you and 2007 with twirls, meows, laughter, hits, hugs, and dance. . .

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