Take it to the Mattresses

"It's time to take it to the mattresses"
--Famous line from The Godfather

"Hey little boy, what you got there?"
--Excerpted from the song The Mollusk, by Ween

Pretty deep quotes, huh?

Well, He, the little boy[s] that is, got . . . New floor mattresses for those sleepless nights, lazy days, and recent streams of grandmas (plus "Poppy"--go ahead and laugh readers, that's what my dad wants to be called by his grand children, don't ask me why!); just like the old days when we all slept together in the living room on our old floor mattresses. Weird to think about now. BTW, I believed we burned the old ones; flat as pancakes they became with one too many spit-up stains. (Jerry always hated sour milk baby breath, whereas I inhaled it deeply and lovingly, like I would with fresh hops.)


While I think my babies are smart and successful (Big Ivy League, here we come!), they strike me as still so babyish and immature compared to other kids their age, and, well, different somehow--unique. Like when they were playing among unfamiliar kids the other day at a playground; after awhile I noticed the other kids stopped playing, and kind of stood there silently watching my children play. Suddenly my children were the entertainment (and since triplets are used to getting stared at, it didn't phase them). Or maybe they just have a soothing effect on other kids? But why, I don't know. Like I said, my children just seem different compared to the typical, skinny, somewhat undernourished, blond Kansan toddler. And although they may not fit the typical profile, it's not because they are dark or their mama's white. Although we are not a mecca for diversity (this is rural Kansas, remember), black children and biracial families are very common here. I can't hardly go to town without bumping into black children and their white moms.

And the funny thing is, Tsega wants to touch all the strange children he sees. But kids don't usually like strange little hands grabbing at them and usually shrink from or skirt his touch. Or cry. Tsega-mega fixed on a baby at that playground, maybe one year old and very mobile, and wrapped his arms around him for a very sweet loving hug and wouldn't let go. The baby started crying so I had to tear T away, which caused loud angry protests from Tsega and as soon as I let him go again, he bee-lined straight for the baby again for the same big hug and I had to tear him apart again and suffer through more Tsega cries. Of course us mothers thought it was hilarious and we told Tsega how sweet he is.

Anyway, back to the little baby and new mattresses thing again. I took this video below of the boys wrestling and nestling on our new cushions and both my mom and I laughed at how Sira looks so little-baby pulling on his feet. He's the one on the left in the blue stripes. Matching brother Bereket also looks very baby, while fraternal brother Tsega sometimes startles me with his big-kid looks (yet his maturity level is on a par with his bros). Out in public people like to guess at their ages, and they are never close. A typical comment might be, how old are they, 12 months? (Me: No, almost two!). One lady recently couldn't believe Bereket and Sira were skipping around because, she said, they look too little to be walking!

I'll take sweet baby any day and I'm in no hurry to grow these guys up; yet I won't stand in their way either.

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Tap

Alternatively titled: Stomp; New Shoes; The Bereket Shuffle; Singing in the Rain.

Boys love new shoes too (thanks Grandma!), especially ones that clatter loudly on wood floors. I got to get these boys some tap shoes (anybody know where I can get little tiny pairs?). Incidentally, mama's a fine tapper too. Oh, if you're wondering, that's Sira in the diaper and of course Tsega's the one with all the hair (which leaves Bereket in red).

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And apparently Tsega has been watching too much American Idol (well, maybe too many of the wacky audition episodes).

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The Triplets are it (and they really do have "It"!)

Tagged. Good idea Mama Papaya. It's time for the babes to give a top ten (my own are coming soon, but it's causing me too much pain & embarrassment at the moment). But rather than do ten neat random facts for each child, I lumped a lot of chaotic & run-on sentences together, jumping from individuals to The Unit in a mish-mosh fasion. Enjoy the wordiness. If I get any comments on this way-too-long post, I'll be surprised. :)

1. Bereket presses buttons and points to pictures in books with his middle, “flippy”, finger. Sira is a master mimicker. Tsega figures out how to get into things (or on top of things or underneath) the best but says the least. Although they understand much and follow simple orders well, none of the boys say more than 10 words. Language therapy, here we probably come.

2. When I make Tsega mad because I won’t give in to something he wants or I tell him to stop doing something, instead of walking away from me mad, he comes to me crying with his arms wide open for a big hug (he does walk away from Jerry though!). Bereket and Sira might walk away crying and bury their faces into the wall corner which breaks my heart (or the kitchen French door hoping dada’s in there to save them).

3. When Jerry was flipping through a recent New Yorker magazine with the boys, which he always seems to be doing, he came across a picture of Amy Whinehouse (hairy legs, tattoos, messy hair, dirty, and all) and the boys were absolutely mesmerized by her picture and tried to give her a binky.

4. Seven times out of ten Sira would rather be in dada’s arms than mine. For awhile he seemed to not even like me, but now he’s pretty crazy about me again and even preferred me for awhile, but now he’s back to dada. Ho-hum, you can’t win them all. Bereket doesn’t seem to favor one parent over another on the whole, but may do it for an evening. Tsega prefers mama and he didn’t warm up to Jerry until he was over a year old; not that he disliked him, he just didn’t seem to seek him out ever. For the record, Jerry and I have no favorites and don’t love one son more than another. My favorite is whoever happens to be sitting in my lap at the moment. Although we try for consistency, different personalities do require different parenting techniques.

5. Bereket is sensitive as an eyeball and that’s why I give him the crib with the view; it makes him so happy to look out the windows before he goes to sleep and after he wakes up. Something about him, he has a deep sensitivity that touches me to the core and I fear I will have trouble disciplining him as he grows, relative to his bros.

6. All the boys love binkies, but Tsega craves them the most. We have taken to putting them away except for sleeping and we have to make sure they are picked up from under cribs and couches because T will look for them.

7. Tsega is almost always in a good mood; wakes up happy and patiently waits to be fed. Bereket and Sira often wake up grouchy and cling their legs around me or Jerry (won’t put their landing gear down as we say) for about the first ½ hour upon waking and might howl and kick if they are hungry enough and see that food is coming; sometimes they get so worked up, I have to help shove food in their mouth as they cannot get large amounts in there quick enough (or they need a couple of minutes to calm down so they don’t throw their bowls in frustration). Except lately Tsega wants to go outside 24/7 (my nature boy) and starts thrusting his jacket and shoes at us while pointing outside and grunting (sounds like, “huh?!”) and gets upset, no matter how cold, how late, or how hungry, when it’s time to go in. All three squeal in delight when I start putting shoes, hats, and jackets on and start running around picking up shoes and handing them to me.

8. If you ever meet my boys, Bereket and Sira will freeze like deer in headlights, get absolutely silent, furrow their brows, and give you what looks like a scrutinizing dirty look. Everybody always comments, Gosh, look at those two checking me out with those big ol’ eyes! Tsega will most likely give you a huge dimply grin and flirt. You might be tempted to feel a special pull from Tsega, as many people—from strangers to familiars--seem to feel; but be careful because I’m starting to feel like Bereket and Sira are getting shadowed by Mr. People Lover.

9. My boys copy each other all day long. If one suddenly drops to the floor and lays on his back just for kicks (“drop and roll!”, I sometimes tell them), most likely his brothers will come up and lay down next to him, all with big grins on their faces. If one starts pushing a box around, another will find something to push along with him. If one starts hugging the big lion, all come up and hug it. If one climbs up the couch, they all do. If one goes up to the French doors to look at something outside (and maybe starts “woo-woo”ing—that’s their version of dog barking because our coonhound Clementine bays all day long as she runs through the country with her pal Louie), the rest go up and look out the window to see what’s up. If one opens the gate outside (a new talent, lucky us), all come up and try to escape together. You get the picture. Except outside Tsega is typically Mr. Explorer as he goes from one end of the yard to the next looking for new adventures, while Bereket and Sira tend to stick closer together pushing wagons and riding cars.

10. Bereket and Sira are so much alike it’s uncanny and sometimes we get them mixed up; but not usually, as I feel different aura wavelengths radiating from them, as I often tell people, and their laughs, cries, and facial expressions are different. Jerry used to be terrible at distinguishing them and constantly had to look at their ears (Sira came to us with a pierced upper ear) but he’s pretty darn good at it now. Somedays they look very much alike, other days they look very different. Sira is fatter with a rounder head and has a way of looking head-on, while skinny Bereket tends to cock his head to the side more. When we first met them, they barely looked alike and I wasn’t convinced they were identical (I am now). Despite their identicalness, I don’t sense any greater bond between them than any of them have with their fraternal brother Tsega. They all fight, bite, hit, and make each other cry, but they also play, love, and have adventures together. Actually, lately, the fighting is lessening by loads around here; guess they are working it out.

Two Funny Noggins

And as one of my ultra-favorite Ethio-adoptive moms pointed out (Hi MP!), some hair is finally appearing on those two funny noggins! I knew it had to happen sometime. . . from bald for sooo long to woolly fuzz, and now finally turning to softer and curlier and oh-so-ultra cute.

Now come closer readers, this is where it turns more serious and personal. I've been living with some major fear and worry the past several months. Around last fall I began noticing a midline keel on the foreheads of my identical pair, Bereket & Sira. Look at the pictures above, taken last September. Trace the line that runs down the foreheads of the "twins". Look at those serious profiles. It was these pictures that really got into my head. They are among my favorites; all three boys look so darn cute, but the foreheads of Bereket and Sira . . . where is that line coming from? And should foreheads stick out more than noses? I didn't know what to think at first, but began intense forehead watching on TV and out in public, especially eyeing the babies. Nobody else I examined had bony ridges in their foreheads. Finally I thought of birds and how they have keels (fused bones) in their breasts that enable flight. So I googled "keel" and "forehead" . . . holy $%*@# as my blood ran freezing cold when the scary word CRANIOSYNOTOSIS popped up. That's it! Without a doubt I was convinced. My two boys have a metopic ridge caused by craniosynotosis--premature fusing of cranial sutures. Now google long enough and you will find images of extreme disfigurations and scary possible prognoses ranging from intracranial pressure, severe headaches and seizures, to brain stunting and even autism.

A tad hysterical, I called the pedi and raced the boys in within the hour (advantages to living in small town, USA). The pedi had never brought up the CS word before, although she had remarked on frontal bossing (protruding foreheads) and tested the boys many months before for rickets (negative). Anyway, long story short, 2 X-rays and eye pressure tests later, many months of worrisome waiting, and worst case scenarios swimming in and out of my head, we found ourselves at Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City earlier this week, on my birthday (the big 3-8), speaking with a cranio-facial plastic surgeon--the expert. I must say that by the time our appointment finally rolled in, I felt optimistic. The X-rays had not indicated any abnormalities, the eye pressure tests revealed no signs of brain pressure, Bereket and Sira are developmentally healthy (well, there's my language and height concerns, but they're certainly doing at least as well as their taller, normal-foreheaded fraternal brother Tsega), and ridge or no ridge, they are obviously cuter than buttons. But that ridge . . . what else could it be other than metopic?

Not all cases of cranio are serious or affect brain development and health, or disfigure the head and face. Not all cases require surgery. But surgery, although terrifying (this is the head and brain we're talking about), can usually fix the problems if it is indeed recommend. The words we wanted to hear: no surgery.

And indeed my diagnosis was spot-on: Metopic ridge caused by craniosynotosis YES, but surgery no no no! Apparently their type and severity of cranio is pretty common--stage I, meaning mild without surgery recommendations. Their ridge will eventually flatten within the next 7 years of their lives and their is no compromise to brain development. I've already noticed some flattening of their foreheads and our expert doctor said the history of their head growth is normal. This is one worry we now leave behind.

Remember my dear readers, no matter how stressed you get, no matter how crazy your kids make you, no matter what, never-ever take health for granted. Think of all those sick children who've come and gone from that hospital and all those worried and scared parents, and always be thankful if you find you and your family among the living and healthy. Funny noggins we can live with. :)

P.S. Thanks and special thoughts go out to Keely and Salem; you know why!

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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