Dec 14, 2009

Dad Fun etc

Don't let this post fool you, I'm the fun parent and I'm pretty sure face slapping was not happening, at least not by daddy (or papa, or whatever he's called).






BTW, this reminds me of a comment I recently received from a fellow mama who happens to also have adopted triplets from Ethiopia. Hey, everybody's doing it. She was wondering about sibling-sprung violence and general bad behavior originating out of the domino effect as it relates to multiples. You know, one kid hits or throws and gets punished while the other smiles and mimics the exact same deed despite the full awareness that punishment will follow. I can't really answer the bottom line questions on how to stop it or whether it ever stops, but I can assure her it's natural, biologically-derived triplet behavior. (Remember this old post? Watch the video, although don't judge, I was already chewed out by one humourless reader--God bless the humourless--and this was long ago . . . things are better these days but still not totally at peace). How do I know? Go on You Tube and start searching triplet videos. Channels are full of triplet brawls. And check out the preview for this upcoming movie: Babies. While those African dolls are not twins, I can sure relate! :) (And I love their homemade toys!) Peace out.

Dec 9, 2009

Dear Santa,

I have a modest, meager Christmas Wish, the perfect gift:

One dinner, just one, without anybody crying or screaming or spilling milk. Please, Santa? Oh, and maybe, since I have been very good this year, a few bites of green food from the mouths of my children?

I promise to be good next year too. Thank you.

Dec 7, 2009

The Bells of Christmas

From hell.

What was I thinking?! I hand over a set of (hard metal) bells to three year old triplet boys? (They love them!) Grandma "nanacake" held her ears shut and looked like she was going to be sick. And now Jerry's banned them (the colorful dents on the back door, not good). Warning, these bells require strict supervision, healthy ears, and the outdoors. Not to be used for banging on things or as weapons. And the craziness does not stop there. For Christmas the boys are getting a Remo gathering drum (extra sticks of course!),

play piano, and a guitar. I picked up the bells from Hobby Lobby on a whim. Let's get loud!

Dec 3, 2009

Ready for school!

Sort of . . .

Teachers, give their hair a fluff with the hand after hat removal to restore style, please!





Pre preschool era the boys were delighting us with after sun up wake ups. Note the word after, as in, the sun shines and maybe it's somewhere between 7:15 and 8:00. Now with regular 6:30 wake ups to get everybody ready for the bus by 7:26--like dragging cold bodies from beds across floors and onto potty chairs-- biological alarm clocks are going off at odd hours. Four o'clock, 5:00, 6:00 (I can live with 6:00), little pitter-patter so early makes our eyes go wild and red! This morning it was 4:30 and Bereket who could not keep his hands and feet off me. Then Sira at 5:30, so what the hell, get up Tsega and I'll give all you stinky butts a bath.

Oh, and the illnesses! The ever and never-ending sniffling and wheezing (and whatever else, last week it was pink eye). I (and everyone else) have been well for about a total of two blissful weeks since August (actually, more like June).

So that's all the bad news (as I wipe my wild runny eye and hack a lung). Oh wait, one more . . . Sira occasionally cries (screams?) before getting on the bus (no coo-buth, no coo-buth, stay ome) and Tsega likes to say, No scoo modow, I sick. And they are giving the sweet old bus driver major belly aches with their escape artistry. One co-worker of ours reported seeing the bus about a mile from home, stopped and pulled to the side of the road, with 3 boys crawling all over the dash. That's my boys!

Here's some good news. Despite grumbles about school, they all adore it. Report from school: all three always happy, always smiling; excited, engaged and thriving; couldn't be happier with progress in language (see above child quotes, this is a long way we've come!); darlings of the school. Indeed my visits confirm this. Big fat smiles, totally excited, totally smitten with teachers and activities. All numbers and letters and colors at home. And get this, they never hit bite pinch or scratch, they obey the rules to the letter, and mind the routine like good little conformists. Remember, they are separated into three different class rooms. They are only disruptive little puppy dogs when they are together on the bus and the walk to and from the bus (who can drag the bus walker's arm the farthest or get away the quickest . . . guess Bereket won yesterday as he ran off and hit a clear glass door smack on the face. Oi!). Now, how to capture their obedience (I've seen it for myself, the teachers have a golden touch!) and non-violence at home. . .

Sira and Bereket are pretty much the shortest boys in class (but taller than a few girls!) but they are also nearly the youngest, and still have that baby way, but get along, like I say, as best as can be in a class with kids as old as five. Tsega looks 16.

Sira: I accompanied him on a field trip to the fire station. His little quiet self hardly paid me any attention (and the smile never faded) and he was always the first, dead center, in the crowd of kids to go and try anything. He has friends, some who grab onto him always to play; brown, white, girl, boy, older, younger, talking & not-talking.

Bereket: Two older Latino girls adore him and he eats it up. They giggle over him and love him to death. At his field trip to a pizza factory we were the fun table. Those girls are a riot and they think he is the funniest thing ever. He's singing all the time now. Loves letters and is learning them quite fast.

Tsega: A door has opened in terms of language. He says stuff that makes you think he must have known these words and how to say all along, just didn't. He is over the top excited in class and a big helper. He helps the tantruming ones get up and get over it. His language is tripping my mind out! But now a little sass is growing as well; Let go of me!, his favorite thing to say right now. Nice thing for others to overhear at a grocery store when I'm trying to tell him not to run off from the cart. I swear I'm not stealing him!

I love hearing the little songs they sing, ones I don't know from school (something about a monkey whale and wicky water, although this can't be right!), and hearing names of kids they like. I asked Sira, is there anybody you don't like? No. And the library books they check out, so revealing. Sira loves books about families and farms. They often bring books home about animals or feature people of color. Sira's current book is in Spanish.

And for an ending . . . Suddenly Sira and Tsega are loving their brown handmade dolls I bought so long ago and the boys so ignored (other than to remove their clothing). Tsega's (girl) doll is Mimi although the other day he called her, very clearly, Maya. Sira calls his (boy) doll Leah (lee-uh). Not sure where that came from, but he calls it so sweetly with a sort of secret grin.

Nov 23, 2009

Monster

Monster is our favorite family game and anybody can be it. This game ignites imaginations, expends energy, and wears us out. So funny to hear those breaths inhale sharply as heads slowly turn, gasping, Monster . . . come! I was watching a stupid, heavily edited horror flick on regular TV the other day during nap (yet another reason to nominate me Mother of the Year) and the boys joined me as they got up (reason #2). Yeah, sure, I thought, I really should turn this off, this can't be right. But somehow I couldn't rise from the couch. During every commercial, gleeful protests of More Monster, please! were heard. Anyway, this is the great part of having three three-year old boys. There's always enough to play a whopping game of monster. Clearly in these pictures (night pics in my house are hard, so excuse blurredness), Tsega is Igor with a hunchback and Sira and Bereket are some kind of wicked shirt monsters.

Weird and Ghastly!


Slimy and Oozing!


Fantastically Freaky!



Wild and Abhorrent!


Nov 17, 2009

Through the Zoo

Watching






Crying


Styling



Resting



Crawling and growling


Wrestling


Strolling, sort of



Stalking


Getting left behind (click to see spot in the horizon . . . Sira does this a lot)


Running in circles

Nov 6, 2009

Look Ma, No Strings

I've got no strings
To hold me down
To make me fret, or make me frown
I had strings
But now I'm free
There are no strings on me
Hi-ho the me-ri-o
That's the only way to go
I want the world to know
Nothing ever worries me
Hi-ho the me-ri-o
I'm as happy as can be
I want the world to know
Nothing ever worries me

-Pinocchio

Everyday, many times a day, for at least the last year I think, although frequency has grown, Tsega starts scurrying around the house in search of socks and shoes (the socks are as necessary as the shoes). If he wants shoes, I know what's coming. He needs to dance! If he's wearing pants, I assist in rolling the legs up as high as they'll go, or we get him into a pair of short shorts. Now, costume complete, he's ready for his Big Number: I got no Strings, from Pinocchio. Lately we've been dancing with video because I was curious how closely he follows the choreography. And he's sticking as closely as he can with Pinocchio's movements, falling down at all the right times and everything. It's not like he ever asks to watch this rather dark but musically-rich movie (Geppetto could really use some lessons in attachment parenting, BTW), he just wants to sing and dance so we watch the musical numbers feature. A whole lot.

Oh, here come the eye rolls. Here's the my-kid-is-so-cute-and-talented post. A post only a mother could love. Gag. But he is talented, my darlings; dancer, singer, actor. No lie. So last night I finally captured a savory piece on video and of course, had to give my baby an audience. An appreciative one, we hope :). It's long, shaky (especially when Sira jumped on my back), with noisy background, and times when Pinocchio is idle, but there are seconds of adorable and amazing turns. So focused he keeps going when Bereket throws toys on the floor. The show must go on!
More, you want more, more peese? An encore performance this morning! This time I tried to capture the TV and T in one shot so you can see matching dancers, even both scratching their one leg with the other at same time. Ahhh, the cuteness of toddlers and their annoying blogging mothers. Bravo.

Nov 4, 2009

Angel B


Time for the identical pair to switch it up again. Trading toys morphed into trading personalities, it seems. Sira is trading a little piece of his angel in for a hunk of Bereket's naughty.



Bereket . . . well, maybe I haven't mentioned this before, but everybody kept telling me about the onery spirit twinkling in his eyes; and they weren't wrong. In fact, I had to keep reminding a few not to speak of him in this way within ear shot. You know what they say, kids hear all bad criticism and soak up less of the good. He wasn't all that really, but this crazy laugh, toothy grin, and way he had of saying, Bu-by-eeee (say it with music and extreme exaggeration, as if mocking your school teacher) just after he pushed Sira to the ground for the nth time, well, it was becoming disconcerting. I don't expect a whole lot of empathy from a three year old boy, but still. Not to mention it seemed he looked to Sira really too much for pattering and direction, instead of like, maybe . . . me? or Jerry? Meanwhile, Sira was angelic and sweet and ever-pestered by his adoring Bear-duh-ke-tuh, as we lovingly call him (said with exaggerated tongue roll).



I'm not sure what happened, but Sira's eyes are starting to look at me sideways more often, he's full of no, and I swear he's swaggering. Get this, at bedtime he puckers up for a kiss and as soon as he gets it, he tells me, Go! At the same time Bereket's hugs and kisses went on overdrive (so I can't go yet, Sira, I have about 20 more kisses to dole out, or 40 with Tsega here too); his eyes softened, I found him curled in my lap more, less defiance, more helping. I'm liking this bigger and sweeter Bereket.

It's not like I didn't see the angel inside him before, I mean he even walked like one:



Sira is once again more drawn to daddy these days. I can tell with preschool and all, change is big on his (well, all of their) horizon. His inner world is saturated and I love seeing all the different dimensions taking shape as all my boys grow up.

Sidenote for an ending: Tsega, apparently, hates firemen (sorry for the sexist term). Do not mention them or he will go all irate and keep on insisting, No firemen!

Nov 3, 2009

Spoookey


Every Halloween I hunger fear. Faux fear, that is. I delight in haunted horror and eerie dread and need to get scared. One can't get too scary with three year olds and by the time they go to bed, I'm too tired for horror. But this Halloween left me giddy with fright. I'm one of those that prod my little ones into festivities, like pointing out all the creepy spiders and ghouly death faces haunting our downtown neighborhood while making shivery ooooooh, ewwwwww, and woooooo noises. Nice, mom.


Let me back up. So it's Halloween night and the boys' first-ever tricks and treats outing. They napped late and by the time they were up and in costume, darkness began, thus the sucky pictures. Giddy, we were all just giddy with excitement. And shit, but the cuteness, whoa!, I could not get over it. Cow, mouse, and clown.





We planned on driving out to some neighborhood since country living does not afford things like this, much to my liking. And totally by accident, we stumbled through Halloween Central; the Historic District downtown went ALL OUT. Kids - everywhere. Noises, lights, decorations - overwhelmingly, horrificly amazing. Frightening and fun fun fun.

OK, they're three, scary isn't really a good idea yet, I know. Tsega started out and stayed cautious, always trailing behind with Grandma. Bereket had the misfortune of being with me, the one making all the scary noises, so after about 20 minutes fear began settling in. Well, it was also the oversized death masks that did it (much scarier than a normal-sized death face, if you ask me). But he still timidly waddled up to doors and held his bag open for candy. Let me interrupt to say they made me proud because they were all so good about leaving the candy in the bag and not foraging through it until we were done. Sira had ever-positive daddy to help so he by far was the happiest tricker-treater. Big smile, bag wide open, he was having a blast. Damn, they were sooooo cute! Back in the car, all smiles and laughter, fear gone, chocolate running down chins onto costumes. Now a great Halloween memory.