The one who sleeps through cavity fillings.

I have this boy.  He's wild and crazy.  He's sweet as pie.  I call him my Sour Patch Kid, because first he's sour and then he's oh-so-sweet.  His Daddy calls him the Honey Badger because this kid?  Just.Don't.Care.  He does what he wants, when he wants, and really cannot be bothered with listening to anyone.  Of course, that can be an issue when we're, you know, trying to parent.  

If there's something to climb, he'll climb it.  He has one noise level, and that is loud.  He needs his sleep and will fall asleep within seconds when he needs it.  And apparently, he'll even fall asleep in the dentist's chair.  During a cavity filling.  Twice.  

A few weeks ago, we headed to the pediatric dentist because our dentist found 4 cavities in Kiernan's teeth - one in each back molar.  The pediatric dentist explained that the enamel most likely did not form completely into the very deep grooves of his molars, leaving them very susceptible to cavities.  After I was finished jumping for joy that this was a developmental issue and not a giant parenting fail, the dentist informed me that he would do the 2 left side fillings that day and that we would come back in a couple weeks to do the 2 right side fillings.  

Kiernan was a trooper through the numbing process and only winced and squeezed my hand a bit.  After that, he laid perfectly still in the chair, with his big sunglasses on, while the dentist softly explained what he was doing every step of the way.  When he was all finished with the top tooth, the dentist told Kiernan that he was ready to switch to the bottom ... and Kiernan didn't respond.  The dentist lifted up Kiernan's sunglasses and the kid was sound asleep!  The dentist, dental assistant, and I all chuckled a bit.  He woke up happy and declared that he was excited to come back for the other 2 fillings.  

Fast forward 2 weeks, we happily returned for another round.  My guy was a trooper through the numbing process again ... and fell asleep mid-filling again too.  Of course we headed out for a frozen treat afterward, because everyone should be rewarded with something cold and sweet after dental work.  It's a rule.  

I love any chance I get to spend one-on-one time with my boys.   Listening to stories, chatting about their brothers, or planning weekend fun, it's all priceless memories for me.  I know them better than anyone on this earth, and yet they surprise me all the time.  As I sat there looking at my "baby" laying in the dentist's chair, I couldn't help but stare in amazement at his long, lanky body.  The 4T pants that fit perfectly a few short weeks ago now barely hit his ankles.  My typically fidgety kiddo, was just sitting there, perfectly still while the dentist explained what he was would do next.  It just amazes me how fast these boys are growing and changing, developing their own little personalities and turning into really awesome little people.  I'd be lying if I said that I love every minute of it, but I sure do love days like this.  

What a difference 3 years makes.

 Do you use the Timehop app?  If you're not familiar, it's an app that pulls up your social media history each day.  If you're not huge on social media, you may reap many benefits.  My history from over 4 years ago is a bit light, but man, since then I have lots of ... history.  Specifically, 3 years ago.

As you may or may not recall, 3 years ago I had two 7 month olds and a 2.5 year old.  So, life was a bit chaotic.  I had a hubby who worked all the time and was home alone with my chaos all the time, so social media was the way I connected with the world.  This was also the time that I was deep in fight against postpartum depression and anxiety, so I love to reminisce and see how far I've come in the last 3 years.

Yesterday's Timehop feed really hit me.  I posted to Facebook 6 times in one day.  SIX TIMES.  Reading through everything, it's painfully clear that I was feeling lonely and in need of someone to talk to.  But this was also a very momentous day.  I will never, ever forget this day in my entire life.  It was the day that I got my Mommy-Groove back.

See, the day started out being very, very crazy.  So crazy, in fact, that I posted this at 9:43 a.m....

I'm sure it got worse before it got better.  I'm sure that the 2.5 year old was whiny and the babies were chaos.  I'm sure that I cried.  I don't remember the specifics, but I do remember the exact moment that I decided that we were getting out.  I was in the kitchen, Brennan was hanging on my leg, Beckett had just woke up after only 30 minutes sleeping and had woken up Kiernan with his screams, and now they were both screaming in their beds which I was frantically trying to get lunch ready for Brennan and bottles ready for the cranky ones.  

It hit me like a ton of bricks.  I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE.  Like, now.  So after they babies had bottles and Brennan had lunch, I packed up the crew and headed out the door.  I clearly remember trying to decide where we were going.  Park?  Too chaotic.  Grocery store?  Not necessary.  Zoo.  The zoo!  I place I could push the littles in the stroller and let Brennan roam without getting too far from me.  So, to the zoo we went.  

We strolled through the zoo, treated ourselves to some Dippin' Dots, and I remember thinking to myself, "Wow.  WOW.  I just did this.  I DID IT!"  I was on such a high from my new found Mommy-Groove, that I had to tell Brian about it in person, so we even stopped by his office on the way home.  I just remember feeling so ... PROUD.  

And apparently all of the pride continued, because I also shared this gallery of Twin Pregnancies over on Babble ... which my belly and I happened to be featured in.  

Oh, and then there was a storm!  Because that's what happens in Florida -- sun one minute, thunderstorm the next.  

Then some cute babies ate some dinner and smiled a lot afterward.  

I'm sure Brian came home super late that night while I was dead asleep.  Or maybe I was awake, I probably talked his ear off until we both fell asleep. I really don't remember, but those are really the only 2 ways our evenings went back in those days.  Regardless, I will always remember that day.  The day that I finally felt like I could wrangle my babies all by myself.  It was a beautiful, beautiful day.  

Any time I have a crazy day, I think about my life 3 years ago and remind myself that I've been through much, much more chaos.  At least now leaving the house doesn't require an hour of preparations.  At least now I can tell my kids to jump in the car and buckle up instead of carrying everyone to the car and buckling them myself.  At least now I can drink my sorrows away without worrying about the pump-and-dump.  Hehe.  I mean, I miss the cute, chubby baby stage, but my sanity is oh so sweet.  

Celebrate the little victories.

Another post from the Drafts folder.  This one is from July 13, 2013.

It's funny -- most of the Drafts are unfinished, some with a few words and some with a few paragraphs.  But after reading this one, it feels finished, which makes me wonder what was missing when I wrote it almost 2 years ago.  One thing is for sure, it all rings true!

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"Three boys!  You must be busy.  Are they triplets?" asks the young Target cashier.

I smile.  I get this question almost weekly.  "No, big brother is 22 months older than the twins."

"Wow.  Really, you must be so busy!"

Sometimes statements like this bug me, but we aren't exactly a calm bunch in the Target checkout lane (or ever, really), so the comment doesn't bother me.

Then the lady behind me pipes in with an "I remember those days."

She's probably in her 80s.  Her smile is warm, but her statement was missing the wistful tone that usually accompanies statements like that from most women over 50.

I smiled and gave my usual reply.  "It's a very busy life, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

Her reply?  "I had 7 in 6 years."

::blink::blink::

I stumbled over my words and think I said something to the effect of "Oh wow.  You must have had some multiples then?"

"Three sets.  A set of twins, then triplets, then twins again.  Obviously they run in our family.  I have 19 grandkids and 20 great grandkids.  There are a few sets of twins and a set of triplets among them."

I still wasn't sure what to say other than "Wow.  I guess you know exactly what I'm going through then ... except way more.  You know, the risk of having another set of twins is why my husband isn't too keen on the idea of trying for one more."

She laughed and shook her head with wide eyes.  "Well, that's what we did.  Twice.  It was hectic.  My biggest piece of advice to my kids and grandkids who had multiples was to just get through it and enjoy it while you can.  But don't stress yourself out over enjoying every second.  Motherhood is hard and what we have is even harder.  Just enjoy the parts you feel like enjoying and get through everything else.  And focus on the small victories when you're having a hard time."

I smiled back as slid my Target card, tried to make sure that the Brothers stayed in the cart, and told Brennan for the 463 time to put the mini Nerf blaster back on the shelf.

I thanked her for the kind words and she wished me luck as I headed out the door with my crew.

The interaction left me thinking for a few days.  Do I celebrate the small victories enough?  Or do I dwell on the stressful parts?

I celebrate the big victories plenty.  Took the boys to Chick-Fil-A by myself (with no stroller) and had a relatively stress free meal.  Huge win.  HUGE.

I goal for the next few weeks is to focus more on the small stuff.  Have a smooth bedtime?  Sweet.  Successfully execute a fun learning activity?  Excellent.  Get everyone to not only survive, but enjoy a walk around the block?  Fan-freakin-tastic.  Celebrate it.  Because it's the little things that make motherhood what it really is.

Motherhood has made me fickle.

Since the birth of my oldest 5 years ago, I've often found myself wishing away the years.

Maybe not wishing that they'd disappear completely, but at least speed up a bit.  It usually comes in rather innocent thoughts - When they can all do "this" or "that", life will be so much easier.  

When they sleep through the night.

When they are onto solid food.

When they drop to one nap.  

When they're walking independently.  

When they can follow simple directions.

When I can trust them alone for more than 30 seconds.

When they're potty trained.  

When they're REALLY potty trained and can hold it for more than 4 seconds.

No, REALLY.  More like 4 minutes.  

When they go to preschool.  

When they can buckle their own car seat belts.

When they can help with chores.

When they go to real school.  

You get the idea.

Eventually you hit those milestones and it does get easier.  Don't get me wrong.  With two 3 year old boys and a 5 year old boy, it's still complete chaos.  But a slightly more controlled chaos.  

And in that chaos, I find the time to look at old photos and reminisce about how quickly my babies have grown into these cool little people.  People who sleep through the night and eat normal food and pee in the bathroom (even if it's more often around the toilet than actually in the toilet).  I long for the sweet baby days.  I rejoice with every step toward more independence.  It's a constant tug between the two.

I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't think that way.  It's normal and natural and, sweet Jesus it's helpful.

See, those "speed it up" thoughts aren't bad.  They're one of many ways that Moms stay sane in the most trying moments. We just need to remind ourselves that it won't always be this kind of hard.  I think we all know that motherhood is hard.  And will always be hard.  But this kind of hard won't last forever.  The sleepless nights, the diapers, the complete dependence.  Eventually they will end.  And a different kind of hard thing will take their place.  We know this, but in that moment, we just need to remind ourselves that this - this hard thing that we're doing right now - it will not last for forever.

So while we're snuggling our babies at 3:00 a.m., it's fine to look forward to nights of 6 hours of sleep.  While we're up to our elbows in poopy diapers, it's perfectly acceptable to hope that your kid will decide to ditch the diapers at 18 months old.  When you're bundling and lifting and strapping your babies into their carseats for the 4 millionth time in a day, it's cool to dream of the days when they can hop in and buckle themselves, only requiring a check and a tighten from you.

Eventually all of those things happen.  The day comes when you ask your kiddo to go potty, get his shoes on, and buckle up his seat ... and he does it.  All three of them do it.  And all of the sudden you're wondering where the years went.  It feels like you blinked and the years flew by like minutes.  A tiny part of you wishes you could hold that tiny baby in your arms again.  But just a tiny part, because those sleepless nights were a bitch.  See?  Fickle.  We're all just fickle.

Those sweet little old ladies in the Target checkout line who pull you aside while your babies are grabbing things off the shelves while running in opposite directions to tell you to "cherish these times because they fly by too quickly"?  They can't help it.  They mean well.  It's just that motherhood (and probably subsequent grandmotherhood) makes you fickle.

So let's just roll with it, shall we?  Let's enjoy our big kids and our little kids and our babies.  Let's complain about the tough spots, look forward to the bright spots, and reminisce about our sweet babies.  Let's embrace the fickle.  

I'll see you in the morning.

When I was pregnant with Brennan, Brian's Grandma gifted us a book.  It's a little board book called I'll See You in the Morning.  Sweet and simple, it's a comforting little way to say goodnight to a child.

I started reading it to Brennan before bedtime at a very young age, and it kind of just morphed into a song.  It's nothing fancy, and my family can attest to the fact that I don't carry a tune very well, but every night I sing it to my boys before bed.  It's "Mommy's song" and they love it.  Brennan has grown out of it a bit, but the Brothers love it, especially Beckett.

At bedtime, we read a few books and then I turn off the lights and it's time to snuggle and rock.  Sometimes Kiernan gets down and goes to snuggle up in his bed and wait for me to rub his back, but Mr Beckett never leaves.  He turns to face me and puts his head on my shoulder and I begin to sing.  And as I sing each verse, he echoes me.  Sometimes he jumps the gun and says the last word of the line before I get to it.  Other times he says the wrong word and when I sing the right one he just looks up at me with his scrunched up hammy smile and giggles before burying his face in my shoulder.

Three is going to kill me.

No, not having 3 kids.  Although, I did read this article the other day which made me feel a smidge better about life.  Raising 3 kids = Hard as shit.  Solidarity, sisters.

What's really killing me is raising a 3 year old.  Dear God, I love him with all my heart and soul.  I really really really do.  And when he throws his arms around me and tells me that he loves me and covers my face with kisses, I melt into a giant puddle.

But holy rage, can he ever spit some fire.  The temper tantrums these days are EPIC.  They're louder, longer, and more dramatic than ever before.  Most days, I find it best to be very matter of fact with him and just ignore the meltdowns when the occur.  But there are some days when I feel like he's punching me in the face with his snippy little 'tude all day long and it makes Mommy wanna reach for the sangria.

I remember telling people when he was 2 that he was "very much 2" with his opinions and frustrations and tantrums.  Were they frustrating?  Of course.  Especially because I had 2 infants to take care of on top of the crazy toddler.  But I think the difference was that I gave him the benefit of the doubt.  I mean, it had to be frustrating to not be able to understand why you can't have certain things or can't do certain things yourself.  And really, the tantrums weren't all that often.  Maybe once or twice a day.

The problem with 3 is that now he can understand those things.  He knows that he isn't allowed to do certain things because he could get hurt.  He'll yell "YOU pick up my cup!!" when I ask him to pick up his cup that he tossed on the ground because he didn't feel like getting up.  He'll look me straight in the eye and lie to me when I ask him if he wrote on the couch with chalk, even though we both know that I know he did it.  And the tantrums are more frequent and the whining is constant.  Constant.  He woke up at 5:30 this morning and every.single.thing he said to me for the entire day was a whine.

I think that part of the problem is that I hold him to a high standard.  And as an oldest child who felt like my parents held me to a higher standard for my entire life, I always swore that I wouldn't do it to my kids.  I try really hard to remind myself frequently that he is only 3.  I try to keep my expectations of him age appropriate.  I also try not to eat a half of a bag of chips when I'm stressed out, but that doesn't always happen.

We'll get through it.  At night, we always snuggle up for stories and kisses and I say a prayer of thanks that God provides these little moments.  They're a reminder that he's my sweet boy and we're just going through some growing pains.  I've heard that 4 is blissful compared to 3, so we're powering through to October.

Jesus help me when the Brothers turn 3.  Someone send wine.

Do yourself a favor and don't tell a twin mom that you "pretty much" had twins.

The boys and I took a walk around the block today.

Like most of our walks around the neighborhood, the Brothers started out in the wagon and Brennan started out walking. By the time we got halfway around the block (you know, about 30 minutes later) I had Beckett  on my hip while Brennan lagged behind pulling the wagon and I chased Kiernan down the sidewalk.  Standard.

I'm still alive ... barely.

I'm just being dramatic.  

I'm fine.  

I've been working my arse off around my house trying not to let it fall down and keep it's occupants alive.  

The mister has been home for only 3 of the last 16 days.  He finally comes home tomorrow and has no more business trips planned for the near future.  That I know of anyway.  Hallelujah.

Being a single parent is hard ya'll.  And I only have to do it for a relatively short period of time and don't have to worry about that whole making money thing.  I just hand over the plastic for what we need and at some point somebody pays the bill.  

(And then that person complains about how much money we spend on food.  Dude.  We have 3 boys.  It's just going to get worse.  I'm sure I'll end up working 3 jobs someday in order to feed them.)  

Anywho, semi-singleparenthood sucks.  We get out and have friends over and keep busy and they do entertaining shit like decide that they hate clothes and love accessories and insist on wearing nothing but diapers, socks, shoes, and sunglasses.   My kids are awesome.  

Mom's Morning Out ... or lack thereof.

Today was one of those rough parenting days.

Not because the boys were hard to deal with.  They were, but that's just a day in the life.

It was one of those days when you start to doubt your decisions.  I really really hate those days.  I'll take hard to deal with kids any day over those days.

I have been taking Brennan to a Mom's Morning Out program at a church near our home since the fall.  It's a drop-in setup on Tuesdays and Thursdays between 8am and noon, so we use it as needed/desired, without having to commit and pay a fee whether he goes or not.  It's not a structured learning environment, just a place where he can go to socialize with other kids and get a little independent time away from Mommy.  He really seems to enjoy going to "school".  

When the brothers were still taking a morning nap, I dropped Brennan off at the church and took Beckett & Kiernan back home with me to nap.  The MMO ladies would often comment that I should leave them so that I could get some time to myself, but I knew better than to mess with naptime.  

3 can't last forever.

This one.

Oh, my Brennan will be the death of me.  

I always said that 16-20ish months was my least favorite age span.  While it's a fun time because they learn so much, they're also caught in this struggle between GET AWAY MOMMY I CAN DO IT MYSELF and DEAR GOD MOMMY WHY DID YOU LEAVE MY LINE OF SIGHT?!  

Apparently something about January 17 just STINKS.

Yesterday I awoke to a little foot full of poop stuck in my face.

"Moooooom!  Wake up!  It's a 'mergency!  There's poop on my foot!"

Uggggggghhhhhhh.

While I scrubbed the crap from between his toes, Brennan informed me that his doggies had pooped in the family room.  So while he enjoyed some milk and TV in my warm snuggly bed, I scrubbed dog diarrhea out of the family room rug and followed some little poopy footprints around the rest of the house armed with my spray bottle and paper towels.  Thank God for tile floors.

Then the brothers woke up with giant diapers full of reminders of everything they had eaten the previous day.   Once we were all cleaned up, we headed outside to play.  I started picking up dog poop while the boys played in the gravel pit.  3 large dogs + a small backyard = lots of poop to pick up in order to avoid messes.  But of course, Kiernan managed to find a pile that I hadn't gotten to yet.  A fresh pile, I might add; one that must have felt nice and squishy between his toes.

"Moooooom!  It's a 'mergency!  Brother is stepping in pooooooop!  And he's laughing!"

Uggggggghhhhhhh.

2 trips to the bathroom to scrub shit from between little toes ... all before noon.  All I could smell for the rest of the day was poop, no matter how much I scrubbed or lit candles or shoved kleenex up my nose.  Whether I was wiping bottoms or not, I couldn't get the smell out of my nose.  So I called the hubby and demanded that he rent a carpet cleaner on the way home and what little carpet and few rugs that we do have in our house were cleaned before the boys went to bed.

After the boys were in bed and the dishes were washed and the house was clean, I still smelled it.  I headed to the shower to wash away the stank from the day and when it entertained the idea of shoving soap up my nose to wash it clean, it occurred to me that I'd written something about that before.

I searched my archives to find this post, written exactly one year to the day earlier than yesterday.

Apparently something about January 17 just STINKS.

These legs were made for climbing.

My boys are climbers.  

 

They are ALWAYS climbing on something.  Toys, furniture, people ... 

... the sand table, kitchen chairs ...

 

No one picks on my brother ... but me.

Before the plague hit, we walked to the park to enjoy the beautiful weather and let the boys burn some energy.  The usually go in 3 different directions when we're there.  Mr. Beckett likes the swings.  Kiernan likes to climb everything.  Brennan just likes to go.  Every once in awhile they'll meet each other in passing and "play" for a minute or 2 and then move on.  Brennan is usually too busy playing with other kids to be bothered by his little brothers.

"Mommy, I just really do love you."

"Mommy, I just really do love you."

"Aww, thanks Brennan.  I love you too."

"I know Mommy, but I just really do love you a lot.  You're the best.  You're just my best friend."

"I think you're the best Brennan in the whole wide world, little bug."

"Mommy, that's a really nice thing to say."

Snot.

Well, today was a first.  All 5 members of our family are currently on antibiotics for the same sinus infection-ish thing that is causing bronchitis and ear infections.  At least we're all in it together?

Yesterday I heard Brennan wheezing and decided that I'd had enough of all of this sickness flying around our house and called the pediatrician to make 3 appointments for today.  The Mommy & Daddy doctor?  Not available until Thursday.  Dude.  So not cool.

We arrived late to our appointment because Kiernan projectile-puked all over himself and all over me after having a coughing fit right before we walked out the door.  Thankfully Brian was able to meet me there.  Wrangling 3 sick kids in the doctor's office while trying to speak to the pediatrician and not sound like a complete crazy person is not my idea of a good time.  After checking lungs, ears, noses, and any other essential body parts, the pediatrician wrote 3 antibiotic prescriptions and deemed nebulizer treatments necessary for Brennan.  He got one before we left the doctor's office and the poor kid took it like a champ.

4:07 a.m.

"Mommy.  Psssst Mommy."

I started to open my eyes and found myself nose-to-nose with a sweet little face.

"Mommy, wake up.  You need to help me go pee-pee!"

"Okay kiddo" I said as I fumbled for my glasses, grumbling a bit and lamenting the fact that I decided to put away the potty chair and make him get used to going on his seat on the big potty ... which of course he needs help with 75% of the time.

As I climbed out of bed I glanced at the clock -- 4:07 a.m.

I smiled.

How ironic.

The terrible, horrible, no good, completely suck-ass day.

That's the title of that kid's book, right?  Yeah, that's what I thought.

If you follow me on Instagram (@imflyingsouth), you had the pleasure of seeing this gem the other day:

Honest to God, it was one of the craziest days I've had in awhile.  The kind of day that 9 months ago, before therapy and Paxil, would have left me crying in the corner with a beer in my hand, on the phone with Brian begging him to come home.  Can we just pause for a moment and celebrate the fact that now when I have one of those days you can find me in the middle of it all, laughing (and wishing I had a beer in my hand, but I'm off the booze til after my race ... sue me, I like my beer), on the phone with Brian telling him that it's no problem that his boss wants him to stay late?  Yeah, I've come a long way.

No but really, what DID I do with my time before I had kids?

It was 8:00 p.m. on a Tuesday night.  Brennan was in Michigan with my parents and Beckett & Kiernan had been tucked into bed for an hour.  The dishes were done, the house was picked up, and Brian had just returned from a run with the dogs. 

As he sat there and stretched, he turned to me and asked “What do people without kids do?” 

I stopped.  After thinking for a moment I replied, “ Honestly, I don’t remember.” 

I remember thinking I was busy before I had kids.  I remember feeling stress over not having enough hours in the day to accomplish everything that needed to be done.  My nursing job allowed me to work (full time) 3 nights per week.  My house was messy.  I wasn’t in school.  And yet I still felt terribly busy.  I knew life would get busier once we had kids, but it wasn’t easy to wrap my brain around just how busy it would be. 

Brennan's big adventure.

::peeks sheepishly to the left and right::

Hello?  Anybody still here?

To say life has been busy lately would be an understatement.  It's swirling around me and I'm trying desperately to keep my head above water.  Not in a bad way, just in a "Dear God, this parachute is a knapsack!" kind of way.

But this past weekend was a great break from the chaos.  My parents came into town for a visit.  We spent time in the pool at their hotel, at the beach, relaxing at our house, playing at the park, and going out to eat ... a lot.   More than anything we just spent lots of time enjoying each other's company.  I love to watch my boys interacting with their grandparents.  It's such a special relationship to watch form and grow.

Kiernan, Grammy, Brennan, Grampy, & Beckett

Life with 1 year old twins and an almost-3-year-old ... otherwise known as my attempt at organized chaos and staying sane.

My dear friend Lorryn recently wrote a "Day in the Life" post about the changes to their family routine now that she has started to work full time.  Their little family is thriving after this change and it's delightful to hear the excitement in her voice when she talks about their life.

Her post got me thinking that I haven't done a "Day in the Life" post in a loooooong time.  Last November, I described the complete shit-storm (literally and figuratively) that we called our life when the twins were 9 weeks old.  And in March, I wrote another post about the semi-organized days of life when the twins were 6 months old.  I could have sworn that I wrote another post this summer, but looking back I probably decided not to because it would have looked the exact same as the March post, minus the nursing and pumping.

Now that we have survived the first year of life with multiples, life has become easier and more enjoyable.  It's still not easy, it's just a different kind of chaos.  Somewhat more manageable. So here's what life looks like in our house these days....