Just Spring

When I see the first turkey vultures in March, this means the bald eagles have moved on and winter is in its final stage. The seasons in Kansas enter like a hard theatrical curtain crashing down. And before I feel it coming on, the vegetation has already begun its response. Spring: the air is wet, the grass doesn't hurt my bare feet anymore, the wind drives me crazy and thunderheads promise excitement. Spring baby, at last. Bring on the bugs, colors, fat landscape and long days outside. Yes, even the bugs because a night sky full of lightening bugs is worth all the chigger, tick, and mosquito bites I will suffer from (and my blood is the sweetest around). Nature, warm and accessible makes three happier boys.

Mmm, Art

5 minutes preparation
5 minutes creative expression
4 minutes eating art supplies and face painting (I am sure this is for my benefit)
2 minutes tearing & crumpling finished products
10 minutes clean up

Result: At least one artist in the group. Sweet, Bereket.

A Good Look

Hmmm, who am I embarrassing more in this picture? My scanties and the pantless bra wonder. You gotta love it when your little boy erupts from the house sporting not just one, but a drawer full of lacy lovelies.

Sad Farewell: End of Binky

Oh, but I was so happy to kick out these clunker highchairs.


Binkies, pacifiers, suckies, nukes. Those powerful and magical baby soothers. Symbol of peace, love and baby. The time arrived and we sadly laid the last binkies to rest. After Tsega chewed up his 100th binky--approaching a rate of one per day--Jerry had to say it, let's get rid of the damn things, and my heart thumped a hard beat.

God, the day we had pictures of our boys and I strolled the baby aisle with motherhood at last in my soul . . . and bought purple, pink, and blue binkies. Staring at those binkies, this was real. Jerry's the one who, while in Ethiopia, kept sticking those suckers in. Tsega was hooked first and hooked hard and by the time we reached home, all three were sucking.

In my motherly wisdom, I can tell you babies and toddlers are adaptable and resilient. I pay no attention to advice that warns against forming bad habits during the baby years. No rocking baby to sleep, no co-sleeping, no pacifiers, no this or that because they are addictive battle-waging creatures that can't give anything up. Bah. Not true, except for maybe the thumb and breast. And food. If you have an allergy-free and strong bellied baby, get adventuresome early with food (wish we had). I have been dreading the end of binky but it took about one day for all three boys--all of whom loved binky--to stop whimpering over their loss. They are old enough to cope without it. The worst part is now I have no reason any longer to shop the baby aisle. Except, oh yeah, diapers, still clinging to those (don't ask how PT is going!).

In honor of Binky, I made a little video. (Oh God, another video? Who has time to watch these?) Disclaimer: I made this and added the song before it was sung by Adam on American Idol last week. Really. I already knew this sad song was something special because, well, I am just that cool. What a mad world indeed . . .

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

A day in the park

I love this one little dumpy park tucked away from view, edged by walking paths, hardly ever a child playing, just a few cars come to spend their lunch hours protected by the solitude of trees and the occasional Frisbee golfers. Too poor for wood chips, too spare for regular clean ups. Easiest park to get my boys in and out of with the van a few steps away and little fear from traffic. Our lonely park where I never feel like a freak among other moms because none come to invade our intimate setting. Gone are the tight-lipped moms who look miserable, strong moms who know how to discipline properly, active moms who weigh 30 pounds less than me, moms who weigh much much more, smoking moms who bark on their cell phones, all kinds of moms and some sad weekend dads too. And I never have to guilt over displays of tantrums or sand throwing in our solitude.

I am on a video high, so bear with me . . . the opening scene features our own park-like yard and Bereket's adorable swing style. Wouldn't you love to play?

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Crazy Young American

Episodic break from triplet musings and onto Haiti. . .

Located on my side bar maybe you have noticed SOIL: Empowering Haiti through soil. (Maybe "empowering" was a poor word choice?) Did anybody donate to this cause (or even regard the link?)? No. Well, don't feel bad, but do it! Or take a trip down there and help build a composting toilet with my hilarious and brainy friend Sasha Kramer. Sasha, I need to get down there! At least read about her cause. . .

The scoop on poop (and pee): S.O.I.L builds toilets where toilets and sanitation lack and fecal-born disease prevails, in a country (Haiti) where soils are nutrient depleted.
The twist: separate pee from poo thus making it cleaner, and compost the human waste into nutrient-rich fertilizer for food production. Snappy.

And she's not just young and crazy, she is also a Stanford-educated PhD.

Sasha is who I want to be in my next life. Click HERE and check out the New York Times article and watch the video embedded. The only flaw is they left out her infamous laugh (California style).

Next blog post, triplets only.

Return to Me

Hurry back, hurry back
oh, my love, hurry back,
I'm yours

I'm weakly coming back, but I am here. Nice to feel your cyber vibe again. Need a smile? Watch my latest Friend Video. Ciao for now.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Back Soon

A blogging vacation is in order. Too busy to breathe right now, so stay tuned for my return around mid March. I always get annoyed with the American way of bragging about how busy we are: oh, I am just so busy, blah, blah, blah! as if the busy person is just so damn important, but hey, life happens and blogging takes a back seat.

Here is a list of my oh-so-important time consuming activities under way:

1. Dance
I dance in classes at our community theater, tap, jazz, and anything that comes along, and we have Showcase (like a recital) next weekend, and Spring Thing (theater fund raiser show) the weekend after. We're learning the We're in the Money number from 42nd Street and cramming it down in about 3 one-hour classes which is freaking me out.
2. Song
Oh God, singing? Why does singing on cue scare me so? I sing all day long but when the room hushes and ears prick up, I shrink. So I am taking voice lessons to hurdle fear and learn how to use my voice. All this in preparation for 42nd Street auditions this April.
3. ICD (Infant child development)
I take the boys once a week because of their language delays (still very delayed), and social and learning immaturities, let's say. It's a zero to three program so we are beginning testing to evaluate their abilities and decide our next course of action for life after two. If they qualify for Head Start this is good and bad. Bad because of course I want them to outsmart the tests; good because they will get free preschooling 4 mornings a week. I still say the Triplet Thing puts them on levels that the tests don't test for. They are creative, spirited, ingenious, smart puppies, they just don't feel a great need to verbalize and they walk their own paths. I am as worried as I want to be, but know that they are healthy, loving, beautiful people and that is enough for me.
4. Taste of Adventure: Ethiopia.
My dance (tap) teacher happens to be the marketing/development director at our local zoo and invited me give a talk about our travels in Ethiopia--also next weekend.
5. Work
Of course our annual report is due and of course I'll be a day late again. Got to finish up 3 tons of fashionably sciencey experiments as well, but that's business as usual. For you stay-at-home snobs, I work only 3 days a week and am My Kids' Mom (haha) full-time 4 days for the rest of the week (dad gets them one full day and nanny Hellena--a lovely Ugandan woman--enjoys them 2 days a week in our home). Sweet.
6. Home
The house is a livid disaster. I suffer from a strange anxiety which prevents me from putting laundry away and the kids keep breaking everything and seems all I can do is catch up on sleep when they sleep, and . . . and . . . oh forget it.

Positive ending: life is fun, beautiful, fulfilling, full of laughs, and my family rocks.

Peace out.

Urinetown

And so my most dreaded stage begins . . . the Potty Chair. Long chats about wet, dry, penis, butt, pee pee, and poo poo. One sided chats at that when your boys don't use words much. Yes, we have entered the mysteries and horror of potty training, although I am starting with only Tsega and we are proceeding slowly. I will not post pictures of him sitting on the potty nor will I describe in detail his personal moments of triumph and failure. Let's just say we are doing the Naked Butt Method and he is 100% perfect as long as he is bare. A pull up or undies on however (yech, boy undies). . . we're working on it.

Yes, I realize the pull ups in above picture are intended for girls. (Yes Grandma Betty, I knew before you pointed it out to me--you funny, but didn't he look cute in them?) They didn't have the right size in the alleged boys fashion but come on, what 2 year old boy doesn't want to look at a cute little ballerina on his bottom? (OK, maybe when I asked Tsega if he wanted to grow up and be a ballerina I pushed it a little . . .) Bereket walked around with the pull up package for 2 days but I couldn't tell if it was Dora or the cute thang modeling he fancied.

I digress and will end it here. I am hoping Sira and Bereket will do what they do so well and learn the art of potty control by mimicking. But won't this make my public life harder? How am I supposed to get all 3 boys into the bathroom and succesfully contain them while helping each do their business? They are like wild horses! (Confession: I don't know what the hell I'm doing and fear I am too lazy to get my kids trained.)

Like a Star

Just like a star across my sky,
Just like an angel off the page,
You have appeared to my life,
Feel like I'll never be the same,
Just like a song in my heart,
Just like oil on my hands,
Honour to love you
--Corinne Bailey Rae lyrics

Lately, and admittedly, most annoyingly, Tsega has taken his indoor restlessness to drumming. He lovingly attached to a turkey baster and spatula (seriously, he shouts Yay! when he finds one), or any kitchen cooking utensil as a suitable substitute and taps, or rather drums (more positive term), on anything we allow him too. At first it was a plastic tiger, then a plastic airplane. He doesn't play with these toys or many other toys, but he will drum them. He is not allowed to drum furniture, floors, cabinets, tables, or people. I have tried to transfer this bizarre behavior or need into something less bizarre or rather, something musical and creative. Bizarre you ask? Well when you see your son tapping on a tiger for much of the day it is a little worrisome (and if you are thinking autism, think not, he does not display other associated behaviors). It may be a case of mad cabin fever; nature is his preferred life element and the poor boy is suffering. Or maybe my baby boy is musically gifted. So assuming it is the latter, we encourage him to experience different beats, rhythms, sing songs to the beat, drum along with him, beat on our bongos (from Ethiopia), buckets, pots/pans, and Bilibos, instead of tigers and planes, and introduce different sticks for different sounds. And if it gets too annoying for the rest of us, we gently suggest he take his drumming to his room.

An example of his work below just after breakfast. . . He (the one in the diaper for you newbies) is singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, although it is hard to make it out over the drumming. Turn it up because the accompanying song is beautiful, but them turn it down because your ears will bleed. (Yes, in case you are wondering, it is hard to remain patient with so much noise!)

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