The Potty Training Chronicles

The air is getting cooler, leaves are falling from the trees and we are once again reaching that time of year for the tricks and treats of Halloween. It’s not typical for the thought of Halloween to give me that warm, fuzzy feeling but this year it most certainly does. The memories creep up from only four short years ago, and yet it still seems like an entire lifetime. Our friends and next door neighbors were incredibly thoughtful and had organized a diaper drive for us during the neighborhood trick-or-treating. I was quite pregnant with the triplets at the time and not inclined to walk very far so I manned the door and passed out treats while John took Kylie to collect her loot. I will never forget that evening, watching all that activity buzzing around outside in our cul-de-sac. It seems like yesterday that I would hobble to the door every now and then to catch a glimpse of neighbor upon neighbor carrying boxes of diapers to be dropped off across the street in exchange for a cup of hot chocolate as they made their rounds. Later that evening, all those boxes ended up stacked neatly into a large pile at our garage. It was such a simple act of kindness but we were humbled and forever touched by the generosity of others that night. There is a lot John and I simply don’t remember as we muddled through the fog of those first several months of life after the triplets were born, but I’ll never forget how I felt each time I reached for a diaper out of that Halloween stash. I won’t forget how that felt to have people rally around us in a time of need. What they say is true…you might forget what people said or did, but you never forget how people made you feel.

And here I am, four years later, thinking of Halloween fast approaching and hoping we are close to being done with all things diapers. I won’t even attempt to think about how many of them we’ve went through since then. My goodness, we’ve had a monthly SUBSCRIPTION for diapers up until just recently. Yes, for years, I’ve looked forward to moving on from diapers… but at the same time I was positively dreading the idea of potty training three little boys. If you want to know how that process went for us go ahead and keep reading. If you’re looking for a “how to” tutorial on potty training you might as well stop here. I will never say I did things the “right way,” I simply did them the only way I could tolerate. At times, it was nothing short of a psychotic experience. So here I go, let’s jump right in to the wonderful joys of potty training triplets.

For some reason, I was hit with a burst of motivation just after the new year. The year 2021 was supposed to be absolutely grand, right? I was cleaning up after Christmas and the boys were going to turn three later that month and I thought I might as well “test the waters” to see if they were ready for potty training. Santa, being the sly, good-humored guy that he is, had snuck some big boy underwear in the boys’ stockings and they were talking a lot about wearing them. Still, I had low expectations and I had no intentions of pushing it so it was easy enough to try it out and see what happened. I ceremoniously brought out three little potty chairs and lined them up in the bathroom. Excitedly, I told the boys we were going to try to go potty like BIG boys. Now, some of their initial enthusiasm might have been due to the fact that the bathroom was located OUTSIDE of their gated area and the possibility of being on the OTHER side of the baby gate had them tickled pink. We opened the gate and walked into the bathroom and absolute chaos ensued. Before I knew what happened, doors were opening and closing, light switches were being flipped on and off and I could scarcely pull fingers out of harms way of being pinched or yell “don’t touch that” fast enough. One boy wanted to shut the gate and, stupidly, I let him which caused the other two to have an absolute fit until they were also allowed a turn. Once the gate had been opened and closed three times they moved on to slamming the bathroom door. Then, once each boy was in position in front of their very own little potty we got to have three separate fits over how much help should or should not be required to pull pants down. Finally it was show time…three little boys were seated on their potties. And guess what…nothing happened. There was a lot of chatter, a lot of movement and poking each other, and a LOT of waiting but in the end it was not to be. No worries, I told them, we would try again later. So up went three little pairs of pants, on and off went the light switch, open and closed went the door, and I ushered the little tornado of toddler boy energy back into the safety of gate. Thank God that was over with! We might have tried again a few times but there was 0% success and within all of two hours I had given up on the entire endeavor. The whole thing felt impossible. I decided I would wait until the boys outgrew their desire to have an overblown tantrum at every turn- even if that was years away. I chalked it up to temporary insanity for even trying and happily put the little potties in storage in the basement where they belonged. Epic Fail. I was fine with that.

Fast forward to May- I had a brief relapse into insanity and I figured we were ready for round two. My expectations were still low but it was worth a try to see where they were at again. Out came the pull ups and three little potties triumphantly returned to their spot in the bathroom. This time it seemed to start off better. The boys had already broken through the gate at that point so it had been thrown away. One barrier eliminated. At least they weren’t so psychotic about touching every single thing in the bathroom. Everyone was seated and promised a marshmallow as a reward if they were able to go potty. Colton, who normally likes to save his successes for last, decided he would take the lead on this challenge. He went potty and we all clapped and cheered excessively and he was awarded his mini marshmallow. Obviously the other two boys could take their support only so far and they immediately lost their minds over watching Colton get a treat without them. I hadn’t thought that reward system out very well. We powered through for a bit and eventually Myles and Jack were able to pee just enough to get their marshmallow, too. Mostly, everyone just peed in their pull ups after our attempted potty breaks. It was exhausting and overwhelming and yes, I gave up that day, too. BUT I lasted approximately two whole hours longer than our first attempt. Jack was particularly hard to convince to even try using the potty so I told him it was okay-we would go back to diapers and I would give that potty to a different little boy who was ready to use it. My idea of reverse psychology didn’t take though. Every time Jack would see his potty, he would just shake his head and say, “that’s not my potty…” Vulnerability was written all over his face as he would look at me for reassurance that he was done with the whole dreadful idea of using it. I decided we would take a break from the potty training idea again but left the potties in the bathroom just to see if the boys would warm up to the idea of them.

A few weeks later we tried again. This time I tried to tell myself I was going to commit. I knew successful potty training methods often start with avoiding pull ups as a “crutch” and going naked instead. Up to this point I had been hoping to avoid that particular technique because I could hardly tolerate the idea of three naked little boys running around my house. But so far I hadn’t been too successful so… There we were. Kylie was absolutely disgusted with the thought of her little brothers butt touching anything so we set out a few blankets in the living room and lined up three potties on top. Third times the charm I told myself. “Gross!” was the most frequent word coming out of Kylie’s mouth that morning. We gave them juice and sat on our little blanket with books, toys and even watched cartoons about using the potty. We took frequent breaks to sit on the potty but the success rate was low. Colton started out strong but then somehow decided he was pissed over the whole ordeal and wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Myles was content to just sit on his potty. He would pee a little here and there but mostly stayed his happy, easy going self while enjoying our odd little party. Jack was trending towards distraught. “Change me, mommy…let’s go back that,” he whimpered. It took him awhile, but once he finally peed he was fine. To save myself a headache, this time everyone got a marshmallow for anyone’s success.

We spent the morning inside and when it warmed up I moved their potties outside so they could play. Once we were outside they kind of lost control and the accidents were happening right and left. Between accidents, fighting with siblings, running back and forth for new clothes, and probably the fact that none of the boys had pooped all day things were turning into a complete mess. When it was time to bring everyone in to get supper ready I was on the brink of insanity. I had run circles all day and just needed the day to be over. Then John messaged me he would be home late and by the time he arrived I was practically ready for a divorce. It was all irrational but I was beyond overwhelmed and needed to take it out on someone and I certainly couldn’t express my frustrations to three year olds I was trying to not psychologically damage while potty training. Instead, I went on a mad frenzy cleaning the house because that’s what I do when I feel like my life is spiraling out of control. Sometimes just the thought of buying a label maker can calm me down but, nope, not this time. I was DONE. Again. There was no way I would muster up the energy to live another day like that one. I would simply wait until the boys were older…maybe 10 or so. They would figure it out eventually. That night we gave baths and when the boys were all clean smelling and dressed in their Mickey Mouse pajamas it seemed to make sense to just let them stay my babies awhile longer. Even if they were ready, I was not. We read our bedtime story in a circle on the floor in their room and then put them to bed. I leaned down and gave each one a hug and kiss goodnight and whispered in their ear, “I love you forever.” And just like every other night they hugged me back, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “Luff you porebber…”

So, we simply enjoyed our summer. I had decided I wasn’t going to mess it up with all that craziness. After school started in the fall and we made it through those first few weeks we were all ready to go again. I had been summoned for jury duty and even that got called off. There were no more excuses. This was IT. We were going to take on this potty training thing once and for all. I had left the potties in the bathroom over the summer and every now and then the boys would try if their interest struck. By then I felt pretty confident they had a better understanding of the entire concept and better control to shave a significant portion of the “trying to go” time off of our bathroom breaks. I had waited long enough I was just hoping it would be EASIER this time. Thankfully, it was. The first few days we tried to focus on just keeping diapers dry and took frequent potty breaks throughout the day to get the hang of it. We started each morning with a healthy dose of motivation and the boys pretty agreeable to the process but somewhere after lunch still turned into a complete mess. By then they were fighting it a bit more and we were all crabby. The first day ended with everyone back in their diapers and me gasping for breath on the couch. But the next morning we started again. Each day got a little bit easier. Colton kept me going by standing up and yelling “ta daaa!” each time he successfully peed in the potty. On the fourth day, I switched them to underwear. We worked hard all day and the boys faithfully participated in all requested bathroom breaks. We made it through the entire day with only ONE accident. I was bursting with pride and thought maybe the next day we would take on solving world hunger or something.

Within three days after that Jack had stayed pretty consistent with no accidents and had figured out how to poop on the potty. I told him he could have one of those marshmallows circus peanuts if he would poop on the potty and he proceeded to do so three times that day. He was so proud to earn his circus peanuts. He kept track of exactly who should and should not be awarded that treat! I’ll never forget his sweet little voice singing out, “mooom, I pooped, I get a peanut!” after he had kicked everyone else out of the bathroom stating his need for privacy. All in all I was pretty happy that within the first week they had really gotten the hang of it. It took me a little longer to trust them at nap time. I was stuck in this place in which everyone used the potty before nap and then I put a diaper on them, but before I had the third one in a diaper the other two had already come running back needing to be changed again after a quick stop at their “poopin’ spot.” Six diapers later we could finally move on to nap time. It didn’t take long to tire of that routine so I eventually got to the point I left them in their underwear to nap and just crossed my fingers. It worked. We are down to just pull ups/diapers at night now and I’m not about to tackle night potty training any time soon.

So for now, I can say we’re done. I might have gained 10 pounds in the process but we made it to the other side! It’s all fun and games until you’re addicted to cheese balls and marshmallow circus peanuts. Nothing says “over it” quite like stress raiding the potty prizes every time things get tough. I can now continue life living in fear of my kids requiring bathroom breaks in public places. That’s a whole different story! I’m sure the challenges will only increase from here but those are for a different day. Life, like Halloween, is filled with all sorts of tricks and treats that can somehow make you smile.

Mista Milla

It wasn’t too long after the boys figured out how to crawl that they could pull themselves up to stand. Their world changed dramatically then, they had a whole different view point on life. Especially after they discovered that wonderful hole in the wall and the beautiful view it provided to the outside world and all its glory- the window. As the boys grew, they spent countless hours in their toy room. Of course they played with toys and read books, but they spent a significant amount of time just perched at one of the four windows staring outside watching. Just watching… Watching the world go by and, I suppose, wondering what it held for them. I have a ridiculous amount of pictures of them huddled together with their little heads peeking out those windows because it always seemed so endearing to me. What were they watching? Well, they loved seeing cars come and go, people talking or playing, but mostly they kept a pretty close eye on what our neighbor, Mr. Miller, was doing. Why? Because it seemed he was always doing something fun of course! Trucks came and went with deliveries, trees were planted, family visited, the lawn was mowed…but perhaps the best part came at Christmas time, when he would put up a whole bunch of blow up Christmas decorations in his yard. A lot of them ended up thoughtfully placed right in front of the toy room window as the kids’ own personal Christmas display. When the boys learned to talk, they began alerting each other on “Midda Milla’s” activities and it became some sort of unwritten rule that when he was spotted everyone else must know about it and come immediately to the window to look. I often wondered what our neighbor thought, or when exactly he noticed that he had his own personal send off crew. Anytime he backed his truck out of his driveway he surely saw four little heads in the window and all the little hands waving. I always hoped that sight was more sweet to him than creepy. Either way, he could always be assured those same little faces would be there in the window to greet him when he returned from whatever it was he was doing. Somewhere along the way John and I just began to laugh at how often we heard shouts of “Midda Milla” throughout our house.

The boys grew and then it became “Mista Milla” but their enthusiasm didn’t lessen. This summer, they’ve become obsessed with the idea of chasing butterflies. We made a small investment into some butterfly nets and the kids run up and down the yard chasing after their “buddabyes.” Despite our longstanding rule that they don’t leave our yard or go into the neighbors, every now and then, when the boys think I’m not watching, they make a run for it. Mr. Miller has an entire forest in his back yard, filled with trees, flowers, birds, and butterflies, and it is oh so tempting to them. They skirt in and out of the trees quickly as though that 5-10 seconds of daring defiance of the rules gave them the thrill of a lifetime. It probably did. The boys absolutely love being outside…so does Mr. Miller. If they catch sight of him they simply can’t leave him alone. They run up to him and run circles around him, chattering away wondering aloud what he’s going to do next because it surely will be something interesting. They often clasp their hands together behind their backs and follow him as though they are going to go on some sort of adventure together.

One Saturday in particular, John was out of town and I was pretty determined that the kids and I were going to have an extra special fun day despite the rainy weather. They watched Curious George during breakfast as per our normal weekend morning ritual. I brought out water colors and paint and we had a somewhat fun, mostly stressful little art session. Then I loaded them all up and we went on a shopping trip to Target, one of our favorite places. That afternoon they played outside but eventually ended up wandering around Mr. Miller’s yard with him yammering his ear off. Then I loaded the kids up again and took them to McDonald’s and, because it was supposed to be a fun Saturday, they each got their very own Happy Meal complete with chocolate milk. It was a first in their lifetime type treat for the boys. That evening we went for a walk, my absolute favorite way to end the day in the summer. Kylie rode her bike ahead of us while I pushed the boys in the stroller. They each held their Alberto Scorfano toy figure from their overpriced Luca Happy Meal and chattered away to each other. I had one of my dad’s famous “it doesn’t get any better than this” moments and realized I would never tire from the view of their blonde heads in that stroller with Kylie, in her pink shirt with her pink helmet on her pink bike, pedaling her little legs as fast as she could go in front of me. When we returned from our walk, I was tired and sweaty and mentally exhausted from trying to be such a fun mom all day. As I got the boys ready for bed I asked them what their favorite part of the day was. They looked at me, smiling and excited, and said “playing outside with Mista Milla” and then triumphantly began recounting the story of how he let them walk around his yard with him. I couldn’t even help but smile- of course nothing would beat hanging out with Mr. Miller.

I know someday I will miss the simplicity of our days now. They are challenging and exhausting in their own special way, but we have no schedule and an endless amount of time to just play. The kids need very little to stay entertained and their problems are small in the grand scheme of life. The outside world has had minimal influence on them. They know nothing of politicians, celebrities or super heros so they really don’t care what they might be up to. They DO care about watching for “Mista Milla” though because he seems to always be doing something fun.

Doctors, Dentists, and Emergency Departments, Oh My…

This past year we’ve worked hard to limit our contact with the outside world. It was kind of status quo for us and didn’t seem like too much of a sacrifice at first. Taking four young children anywhere even on the best of days often ends up being more work than fun anyway. Jack had a few outings for some of his doctors visits and check ups. None of those could be classified as enjoyable and he would usually end up whimpering “I want to go home…” at some point. Kylie ended up with several solo trips to the dentist. I won’t even rehash all those details, but again- not fun, although she did come home with a My Little Pony toy. Yes, I told her daddy would buy her a pony if she could sit through the terrible process of getting 6-8 stainless steel crowns added to her little mouth. Even Colton got to be the first of the boys to go to the dentist and came home with a little plastic toy skateboard from the dentist himself. It was a pretty big deal and it became one of the most coveted toys in our household. Poor Myles though, for months, watched his siblings come and go thinking he was missing some sort of grand experience in the outside world. Myles, always desperate for an adventure, just wanted to get OUT. He just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere… And that’s how he became obsessed with the idea of going to the dentist. He talked for months about HIS turn to go to the dentist which was scheduled in February. He couldn’t wait to go and see what sort of amazing prize he would get to come home with.

First though came the boys’ scheduled three year old well check appointment with their doctor in January. They were scheduled to go together and I had played out the various scenarios in my head of the “easiest” way get them in and out of the pediatrician’s office without picking up some unwanted bug. All six of us drove together the few minutes to the doctor’s office where a sign directed us to the back entrance for well child exams. I had planned to take the boys in and have John stay in the van with Kylie. We parked in the parking lot and my heart sank as I looked at the small staircase to get into the building. Normally I buckle the boys in their triplet stroller to get in and out of places. Sometimes life is just easier when they are strapped down. No matter, surely we could accomplish getting in and out of this small building without it… I called to check in for the appointment and we unloaded the boys from their car seats, put on their little masks, and started shuffling towards the steps. A staff member greeted us at the door and held it open for us as we began our ascent. I had Myles’ hand and had managed to get him up the steps and halfway in the door when Jack, at the bottom of the steps, started backing away. He had figured out John was planning to head back to the van. All three of the boys in that moment suddenly realized they didn’t dare walk inside that door, they had no idea what was going to happen. After all, they’ve never WALKED into a building before. So there we were, our little group stuck halfway in and halfway out when suddenly no one knew what to do anymore. We tried talking them in and when that wasn’t going to work I simply tried talking them back outside so the lady could at least shut the door and stop blasting their office building with the cold, January air. It was no use. I could only imagine how pathetic we looked as I glanced apologetically at the poor lady witnessing our dysfunction. Finally, she suggested we just bring our whole family IN for their visit which seemed to solve the problem. All six of us shuffled in to our exam room. The nurses requested we take off coats and shoes which, for some reason, seemed like a terrible idea to the boys. I immediately grabbed Myles to go first. He’s my “go to guy” as far as social situations go and is usually least afraid of new experiences. Once he does something it becomes less scary for his brothers. The trick worked and the boys warmed right up to their little check up procedure. John and I worked hard to keep everyone entertained in the little room and soon all three had received a pass until next year and we were shuffling our little group back out the door. When we got to the van, Myles decided he did not want to go home, his little taste of freedom was far too brief, and started thrashing about in an attempt to avoid getting strapped back into his car seat. His heartbreak was somehow contagious as Colton and Jack threw their energy into the fight as well. Of course, Kylie chose that moment to start whining about wanting to watch a movie for the 5 minute drive home. We finally got everyone buckled in the van and drove home with all four children screaming and crying. I remembered why we rarely leave the house.

All Myles could do then was look forward to his trip to the dentist. For the next few weeks he continued to chatter about his upcoming appointment. Jack and him were scheduled to go together. February finally arrived and so did the day of the appointment. Angels might well have been singing in heaven. It was Myles’ time to shine! This time the concept of walking through an office door didn’t strike them as so hard. They shuffled in together and were led to the back where they each had their own chair to sit in. I had spent time talking up the entire idea of sitting in the dentist’s chair so they each went to their own and were quite happy to take a seat. A hygienist came for each of them and showed them the “tools” and how they worked. Myles was grinning from ear to ear, loving every moment of this experience and so proud sitting in that chair. He got to ride up and down and then lay back for his teeth cleaning. When it came time for Jack’s chair to recline, Jack sat straight up and jumped out of that chair as if it were on fire. No way was he going to lay down. I told the hygienist Jack has a bit of a memory of being forced through MRI’s, x-rays and blood draws and he won’t forget that all sorts of terrible things can happen when you agree to lie down on an exam table. Jack had decided the fun was over and he started talking about wanting to go home to which Myles adamantly yelled from his own chair, “No!” Myles was still having the time of his life. I held Jack on my lap and together we watched Myles. The dentist came in and examined Myles and once he was done, Jack had decided that it didn’t look so bad so Jack took his turn in the chair afterwards. Both boys were then marched up front where they got to pick their special prize for sitting so well. The moment had come, the big reveal of their new special toy. They reached the prizes before I did and when I caught up they each opened their little hands to reveal a tiny pineapple shaped eraser and a pink plastic poop emoji… Excellent. Just what we needed. We headed back to the van and Myles was not happy to see his little outing end. Jack was so excited to go home he hopped right into his car seat but poor Myles was sad to see his visit to the dentist end so soon.

Myles is an amazing combination of energy and chill. His antics never cease to make me smile. He is the one that gets the pajamas with the hole in the toe. His brothers can’t handle it but he won’t lose any sleep over it. One time he ripped a such a big hole in the knee of his pajamas I just pulled the rest of that leg off- and he wore it just like that for weeks. He’ll usually take whatever color bowl is left after the other boys change their mind 12 times over which is the ONLY color they’ll eat their breakfast out of that morning. He doesn’t throw a fit if he gets bath water in his eyes. He’ll take the banana with the brown spots and not bat an eye. He just doesn’t seem to sweat the small stuff. He’s also the guy that has endless amounts of energy and loves to run, jump and play. He lives to have fun. He always has a grin on his face and a little mischievous twinkle in his eye (just like his daddy). He gets hurt the most, often ending up with a scrape, bump, or bruise from all of his crazy little escapades but he never lets it slow him down. Of course then, I suppose it came as no surprise he was the one that earned the first trip to the ER for stitches.

One fateful Saturday night after pizza, he was standing on a stool at the kitchen sink getting his hands washed up and he fell off the stool. In the process he bit through his bottom lip. He was immediately distraught and crying, I can only imagine how bad it hurt. I was disheartened to realize the ER was our only option. I told John he would need to take him to the hospital to which Myles chimed in through his swollen lip, “take me to the hospital, daddy!” By then he seemed to have calmed down and was rather enjoying the idea of a little “outing.” John buckled Myles into the van, who was now fairly happy and excited for this adventure, while the other two boys and Kylie were screaming and crying in the most overly dramatic way possible as they watched Myles get carted away. It was hard to convince the boys to go bed that night. Jack thought the idea of reading the bedtime story without Myles by his side was a pure tragedy. In the end, Jack and Colton were coerced to bed and reassured that Myles was fine and daddy would read him a bedtime story too. Kylie went to bed distraught that she would miss daddy telling her goodnight. I then checked in with John and found out Myles was basically having the time of his life in the ER. He thought this was quite the social affair and enjoyed chatting with the doctor and nurses about how much he liked Buzz from Toy Story and that Cars was his favorite movie. He even got to have a cherry popsicle. They decided to put a few stitches in his lip and he took it like an absolute champ. He laid down and let them wrap him in a blanket to keep him still, but he barely winced for his stitches. The doctor had brought a few extra hands into the room with him but they all just stood back in amazement as the little three year old Myles just let the doctor stitch him up. The whole ER process did take several hours so Myles was like a little drunk monkey once he arrived home- a tad delirious from lack of sleep, hopped up on sugar with a red rimmed mouth from that popsicle, and proudly sporting a few stitches in his bottom lip. He showed off his patient sticker and bracelet and he chattered away telling the story of his adventure recounting how the doctor had told him he’d “made his day.” I can’t imagine how a little boy could have such fun as an ER patient but that’s Myles for you. He finds the fun in everything and he’s pretty determined that nothing is going to slow him down. He finally got to have his solo adventure. The grin never left his face and I dare say he had a little extra sparkle in his eyes when he went to bed that night.

Three Years Old!

Happy Birthday to Colton, Jack and Myles! It seems like yesterday we were first spreading our news of expecting triplets. I think back on those days and I remember hearing a lot of “you just need to make it through those first few years and I’m sure it’ll get easier…” I think back on that and then I laugh and laugh. And then I laugh some more. As all the triplet moms that have went before me say “it doesn’t get easier, it just gets different.” The energy of these boys is pure craziness. Craziness! Three year olds have challenges all their own but boy, they can sure make life FUN, too. The things they do and the things they say do so many crazy things to my heart and I honestly wish I could write ALL of it down and share it with the world.

Myles is hilarious- so full of energy. He zips around at the speed of light and loves to stay busy. He is my best little task handler-if I give him a job he’ll put his heart and soul into happily doing it. He’s the most coordinated and has a good aim when throwing a ball (usually right at your face). The day he realized there was such a thing as a snowball fight might have been the happiest of his life. He is always grinning and looking for ways to “tease” any of his siblings. When he gets upset, he does it in the most dramatic way, and when he talks (which is all the time) he uses every facial expression known to man. He’s our little clown, always looking for ways to make others laugh. He is also our more easy going guy these days and the least likely to get into an emotional tizzy, but when he does he is pretty hard to talk off the ledge. He has his pride and he’s stubborn when he puts his mind to something. He’s least likely to apologize for any wrongdoing and he would rather take his punishment than back down from a fight.

Jack is a total sweetheart. He lives life at a slightly slower pace but chases his fair share of adventure. He loves to figure things out on his own. He is the best listener and tends to follow rules. If he does something wrong he usually chooses to apologize and fix it. Sometimes he even apologizes when he is the one that is wronged just to get everyone happy again. He is most likely to have his feelings hurt and is most empathic to anyone else that has theirs hurt, too. He has the shortest attention span with structured activities but he catches on the fastest to day to day life lessons. Jack just “gets it.” I’ve said before he’s the leader of the crew. He loves food- he is always coming up to me “I’m ungy mommy” or “I want to eat it.” He loves to cuddle and his hugs and kisses are so sweet they can almost bring tears to my eyes.

Colton is our little spitfire and you never know what type of mood he’s going to be in. I’ve referred to him in the past as “our pokey little puppy.” He is still holding true to that, especially where food is involved. He tends to catch on to things after his brothers have already mastered it. Not because he’s not as smart, in fact he’s very smart, but he seems to CHOOSE to do things on his own timeline. He is a bit of a follower though- he loves to do whatever his brothers come up with. He loves his family and wants to make sure everyone is sticking together. A long time ago he decided he was “daddy’s boy” and has stuck to John ever since. “Daddy do it” is his most commonly used phrase. In fact, only John can carry him up to bed and rock him at night. Whenever anyone gets in trouble and there the chance someone might end up in time out he runs to them and tries to convince the guilty parties to make up… “day your dorry.” He has a great amount of awareness and focus and can usually outlast his brothers while working on any sort of activity like puzzles, stickers, coloring, or books. He is a little bit more quiet (only a little) than his brothers and when he talks he has a cute little lisp.

And then of course there is big sister Kylie… I might as well get “Coach” printed on the back of her shirt. She spends her days teaching the boys everything she feels they should know. I can’t help but think the boys are in pretty good hands even if they only pick up on a fraction of her lessons. There are some interesting dynamics as she wants everything they have and they want everything she has…it’s a tricky thing to try to navigate. I will acknowledge there is high demand for any toys that are pink simply because they are Kylie’s and that makes them important. After all, Kylie is a pretty important part of this family, wise beyond her years. She is incredibly smart and responsible and has an endless amount of hilarious stories and ideas running through her head at all times.

As we celebrated the boys’ birthday, I can say with a significant amount of confidence that I feel like I’ve aged about 50 years in their lifetime. There is a big difference in how John and I celebrated their first birthday and how we celebrated this one just two years later. I think most nights we go to bed at night just trying to figure out how to “up our game” for the next day.

Then…

and now…

We started their day with their “big” birthday present of new bikes and helmets (color coded like every other item in their life). As they each climbed on, Kylie spent her time running between them excitedly ready to “teach them” how to ride. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit and think our neighborhood is in for a real treat once the weather warms up.

Myles, Jack, and Colton

Then they got dressed and anxiously watched their cupcakes bake…

My favorite moment was when Kylie passed out her birthday gift to them- a Mickey Mouse walkie talkie- and proceeded to try to show them how to use them. There will be a bit of learning involved as they try to figure out how to hold down the correct button to talk but most importantly that only ONE of them can talk at a time!

In the case of this birthday, we went with a “baseball birthday” which meant we listened to “Take me out to the ballgame” on repeat for days. The boys got some little baseball caps and even some baseball bats (which were promptly taken away). They sported their baseball shirts that declare they are three. I can only hope they never outgrow them. And they of course ate hot dogs for their supper before they each demolished their very own birthday cupcake.

And so, with that, it’s another year in the books! With all that is going on in the world right now, I’m so thankful for these crazy, incredible kids. I’m thankful for this family I call mine. I can’t wait to see what this next year brings!

The Spoon

I’m not quite sure when it happened but it all started with a little plastic spoon from their toy kitchen. Somewhere in the mix of transitioning the boys from pacifiers after they turned one we experimented with different comfort items at bedtime. Myles immediately took to a little stuffed dog that he so sweetly tucked under his arm when he would go to bed at night.

Colton favored a brown teddy bear that he happily hugged as he drifted off to sleep.

And Jack…well, Jack ended up with a spoon…

Believe me, I tried all sorts of different stuffed animals but each morning I would find they all suffered the same fate- tossed, unwanted out of his crib and onto the bedroom floor. That spoon though was always in Jack’s hand. He would run around with it sometimes during the day or even push it around in a little toy stroller, but it was always in his hand when he was ready to go to bed at night. And so, because he seemed to love holding onto that spoon, I let him have it. I figured he’d get over it eventually. Every now and then we’d have a moment of panic at night when we couldn’t find THAT spoon but I was relieved to find he wasn’t all that picky, he would take a different spoon if absolutely necessary. And so it went, day after day, month after month… off to bed they’d go -Myles with his dog, Colton with his teddy bear, and Jack with his little spoon. It was simple enough in the beginning. Then as they got older, they became more aware of what the other one was doing. Colton decided one night that HE needed to take a spoon to bed. Myles, not one to be left out, then insisted he get to take a fork. Whatever… toddlers get difficult to reason with so I let them. No big deal. Except they did it again the next night, and the next. One night Colton couldn’t find his spoon so he settled on a fork. But then that eventually escalated into him throwing a fit unless he was allowed to take a spoon AND a fork to bed, along with his worn out teddy bear of course. To be honest, I don’t think Myles really cares that much but he’s not backing down. He eventually settled on a knife (don’t worry, it’s just a toy) in addition to his beloved little dog. Through it all, Jack has kept his spoon. He never seems to care what the other boys are doing or even that he has this kind of influence on them. He’s simply doing what he wants to do. Sometimes I chuckle over it. Other times, I wonder if I’m insane as I frantically search through their toys at night to find the fork, the spoon, the other spoon and the knife before we can all comfortably go to bed. It’s ridiculous really. But I can’t help but laugh at what a natural born leader Jack is. He’s always been the one to “figure things out” first. I’ve said before he doesn’t necessarily find a way, he MAKES it. He’s our strong man Jack. The glue that hold’s the crew together. Our Baby B. The poor guy stuck in the middle in every single posed picture. His skills are truly enviable. He’s somehow convinced two other little boys that the coolest thing you could ever do is sleep with kitchen utensils. I am truly impressed by that. I’ve cursed that spoon 10,000 times as I’ve searched through heaps of toys before bedtime but I will someday miss it whenever Jack decides he’s ready to move on. I’ll be a bit sad when he no longer refers to it as “my poon.” Somehow for all of us in this family that has become a special little spoon simply because we all love the little boy who holds it.

The Best Days Ever

So it was about 9:48AM and I was sitting on the couch underneath all four of my children. I was already feeling pretty “touched out” for the day. A familiar cheerful chime had just warned me that my second load of laundry was dry and ready to be folded. We’d already had our 427th fight over the Magna-Tiles scattered all over the floor. We had read about 87 books. We were on our 14th round of “You Are My Sunshine…” My mind was racing with my mental “to do” list and I was feeling a bit sad that I was already running out of energy to actually DO anything. It was about then that Kylie leaned over with a smile and whispered into my ear, “This is the best day ever!” Well, that stopped me in my tracks a bit. The perspective of a child is such a refreshing thing!

Sometimes my life as a stay at home mom can feel like the movie Groundhog Day. It seems like the same thing over and over, every day just trying to “get it right,” until one day you wake up and realize how quickly everything is changing. I’ve tried multiple times to sit down and write what a day in our life is like- I have never been able to finish it. I think I run out of energy just trying to write it down! All I can say is that my mental exhaustion is at an all time high. This is such a fun age but it can wear you down, too. I’m surrounded by toddler tantrums and anything can set them off… sometimes my days honestly feel like a 12 hour long panic attack. To stay afloat it often feels like I have to do everything for everyone and at absolute warp speed all while avoiding the multiple ticking time bombs that are toddlers. I end up being a revolving door of sorts, rotating through picking up one child and calming down another. For every problem solved, a different one arises. On those sweet occasions we reach a successful outcome and everyone walks away calm and happy, a different child will choose that time to come running around the corner, quite literally run into the wall, and start the wailing all over again about their broken toe. And while I’m dealing with that self-inflicted catastrophe you had better believe that there’s a 85% chance a different little boy is going to run up to me and hand me a booger.

In those day to day moments, sometimes I feel like I’m just absolutely going to lose it. Sometimes I do…and no, contrary to what that psych nurse in the hospital told me when the triplets were first born, a drive to McDonald’s to get an ice cream cone does very little to “recharge” my energy. Being a stay at home mom is hard. I already know being a working mom is hard. Just being a mom is hard. Life in general can just be HARD sometimes. But it’s all about perspective. There’s nothing earth shattering about that little tidbit and yet I still struggle CONSTANTLY to keep my attitude in check. You might be surprised but I try not to give off a psychotic vibe. If I’m being truthful, there are a fair amount of days that I feel a tad on the crazy side. Thankfully those days are balanced by the special little moments like today. And there are a LOT of special moments, a lot of good in our days. We are living our best days ever. There is a lot of chaos, whining and fighting, but thank goodness there are a lot of smiles, laughter and hugs as well. Life truly is all about perspective and I often have to remind myself to step back and look at the bigger picture…or even just through the shining eyes of a 5 year old.

Bad Moms

So there I was, crying in the dentist’s office. The only thing more uncomfortable as a 36 year old adult than crying in front of your dentist, is having a mask on while doing it… Tears streaming down my cheeks, my mask sticking to my face… All the while I’m desperately trying to not wipe my eyes or touch my face because, you know, COVID…so the only thing to do was just simply ignore the fact that I’m sobbing into my mask, pretend I’m not having a mental breakdown right there in front of my dentist. I was just told my five year old daughter had eight cavities… EIGHT! They might as well have just stamped “failure as a mother” on my forehead as I completed my walk of shame out of the office. My dentist had went through the “reasons why” this pattern of cavities had shown up. Genetics, oral hygiene habits, and, what he hit really hard, the types of food she’s eating. In that category of food was processed, starchy foods like crackers or goldfish. So I couldn’t help but feel as this was all my fault, that I had somehow failed my daughter despite my efforts to keep juice out of her hands and avoid too much candy all while faithfully brushing her teeth twice a day. My dentist tried to comfort me by saying it was okay, these were baby teeth and we’d get them fixed. Maybe it would have been okay if he’d stopped there, but he proceeded to say “we all make mistakes, and then we learn from them…” There it was, my “failure as a mother” stamp. That last phrase he left me with has been rolling around in my head for a few weeks now, as if I needed any more mom guilt and anxiety to keep me up at night. That phrase has brought the tears back a few times as I’ve called and scheduled consultations for her, trying to avoid her having to be taken to the OR later this year to have them all fixed. I know it shouldn’t seem like such a big deal (they are just baby teeth after all) but it’s that phrase, that perceived stamp of failure that is hard to move past.

It’s like all of a sudden I’m living in the Bad Moms movie and I’m ready to start day drinking until I find the courage to shout to the rest of the world to kindly F off. Seriously, the pressure of trying to be a “good mom” is enough to make a person snap. Oh, I’m sorry, you’re saying I should have been flossing my child’s teeth all this time, in addition to brushing and flossing my three other children twice a day? Yes, I’ll add that to my already packed schedule right next to making everyone’s food and wiping everyone’s butt. Oh, carrot sticks and cheese sticks for snacks…got it. Oh, you had YOUR child potty trained by age one and YOU think I should get to work on potty training my THREE two year olds? Great, I’ll add that to my “to do” list. You pushed for a vaginal birth because that’s the “natural” way? Neat, I preferred to SURVIVE the process of childbirth, thank you. Don’t even get me started on breastfeeding – I’m seriously happy for anyone who can make it work, especially with multiple babies, but sometimes we have to make choices… like sleep, our marriage, and our freaking sanity. And sometimes, there’s no choice at all, despite a mother’s best efforts it just doesn’t work. You have found “positive parenting” techniques to be helpful and you don’t yell at your kids? Seriously, that’s great! I apparently lack the emotional stability to teach my kids how to be emotionally stable and I find that yelling every now and then is the only way to quickly grab their attention and get them to stop trying to kill each other.

Every day I wake up, give myself a little pep talk about what a great day I’m going to have and what a fantastic mom I’m going to be… and then I proceed to get all my children rounded up and into the same room to feed them breakfast and absolute chaos ensues. Somewhere between trying to convince my five year old to just quit dancing around and go to the bathroom, change three toddlers diapers, calm the kid that is crying because HE wanted to shut the baby gate and his brother was the one to do it, chase the child down that stole the toy from the other child, and make breakfast my ability to remain calm and rational goes out the window. Where is John you ask? Helping, he is HELPING with all of this but we are still outnumbered!

Quite honestly, I AM happy for anyone who can figure out how to give their child the BEST options… for THEM. I don’t even think people are always trying to be judgy, but a lot of things can strike a nerve if you’re already feeling like a “bad mom.” I have always been a rule follower, and I don’t even think that’s a good thing. It causes me an incredible amount of anxiety. There are so many “right things” we have to do and the more I try to follow all the “right things” the more irritable I get. It’s hard to find a balance in doing things right and letting go enough to feel like you’re actually living life. We only get a few short years with our kids, and yes, while I want them to grow up healthy I also don’t want them to have memories of me being stressed out all the time.

So, I’m having my “bad mom” moment. I’m not even sure why I’m admitting to the world my child has eight cavities. Maybe I know I’ll never have the courage to tell my dentist to F off and this is the only way I know to vent. Maybe I want others out there that are feeling like “bad moms” to feel better about themselves. Maybe I want the “good moms” out there to understand how painful it is to be in the “bad mom” category. Really, and truly, I am happy for those moms that have things more together, but some of us are still just in survival mode. For some of us, keeping our kids alive each day is about as much stress as we can take. Some of us go to bed and have a wrestling match with mom guilt… and most likely lose every night. Yesterday, while driving Kylie home from her appointment in Iowa City I let her watch a movie in the van- something with the Care Bears. One of the lessons the Care Bears were driving home was “there’s a difference in feeling good about yourself and having to feel better than everyone else.”  Wow! Spot on! It IS hard. As moms, we are all trying to feel good about ourselves and it’s SO hard to not constantly compare ourselves to other moms. We all have our own top priorities that we fight for and we all have other things that we need to learn to “just let go.” We DO all live and learn, and what seems like a big deal today might not be someday. I love my kids more than anything and I want to do everything in my power to help them grow up healthy and happy. I am quite literally doing the best I can, but right now the best I can includes McDonald’s chicken nuggets. I might even sit down and watch Bad Moms tonight. And someday, if I could ever work up the courage, I’d love to tell my dentist where he can take that carrot stick and shove it…

Jack’s Journey

It was a year ago now. I still remember it like it was yesterday…the day we took Jack to Iowa City for his first evaluation after our pediatrician referred us for his increasing head circumference. At the time we didn’t know what was wrong or, really,  if anything was wrong. We just knew he would have imaging done and we would meet someone in the neurosurgery clinic. That sounded daunting enough. I remember sitting at home in the boys room, in the dark, holding Jack and rocking him during nap time before we took him to his appointment that afternoon. I held him and the thought crossed my mind that I might want time to freeze right then and there. I thought maybe I wouldn’t want to know what his consult with neurosurgery might reveal. Part of me was trying to convince myself it was just a precaution, but part of me knew that it could be one of those life changing moments as well. One of those moments that you define time by- as before and after… As I held him, I knew there was a possibility I might miss this simple time with him when everything in our world was right.

Only a few hours later, we had the answers to some of our questions along with a whole lot more questions. Jack had an arachnoid cyst and we were told he would most likely be needing a surgical procedure. The next few weeks were a blur of appointments as we processed this but perhaps the most heart stopping moment was when we received the results of his MRI under sedation. This image would strike fear into the heart of any parent and it certainly did a number on ours.  His cyst was very large. One of the consulting surgeons said that it was very serious and, if left untreated, the results could be “catastrophic.”  He wasn’t trying to scare us, looking at that MRI had already done a pretty good job of that, but he was being very honest and blunt. Surgery was scheduled for the following week.

The morning of surgery, we drove to Iowa City. I couldn’t stop looking at Jack’s sweet little face. He was so perfect and vulnerable and my heart was broken for what he was going to have to endure. I asked John what he thought a neurosurgeon eats for breakfast before performing surgery on a one year old. Whatever it was, I was thankful people with such skill, dedication and calm demeanor exist.

It was a long day. I remember quite clearly sitting for hours in the waiting area during surgery, just hoping for each update that things were going as planned. Afterwards, we were able to go see Jack in the PICU. Jack started waking up shortly after and he was immediately agitated and crying. There was nothing that would calm him down. One of the nurses asked me about his favorite music or show. I was so overwhelmed in the moment of not being able to do anything to calm Jack down. There were people everywhere, the room buzzing with activity, and yet I was his mother. I was supposed to be the one that knew what to do to comfort him. I didn’t…so I just stared at her stupidly before mumbling something about Mickey Mouse. That didn’t work either. For the next few days, we simply held Jack, rocking and swaying, sometimes sitting if he was calm but often standing because he was so restless. While I held him, I hummed “You Are My Sunshine.” And I prayed, more so tearfully begged, “please don’t take my sunshine away.” The first day or so was the scariest, with doctors and nurses checking him frequently, re-assessing him to make sure things were looking right. It was just a scary reminder of how many things could go wrong at that point. After a few days, we moved to the regular post surgical floor and some of the anxiety eased. It’s odd when I think about the University of Iowa Stead Family Children’s Hospital- it feels a bit like a love/hate relationship. Walking those halls brings back all the memories of the other times we’ve spent there with the triplets. Other times that were filled with uncertainty, stress and overwhelming emotions in general.  And yet, there was something comforting about the familiar squeak of my shoes on those floors. The beeping, monitors, and lines hooked up to Jack brought a certain level of fear, restricted movement and limited sleep, and yet it helped me to know that people were watching over him, helping him. The lounge that offered the simple luxury of a Dixie cup of Sprite and a granola bar or pop tart another small reminder that other people outside of those walls care about those on the inside enough to provide those items. They knew there would be people too tired to attempt to find real food and unable to stomach the thought of one more meal provided by dialing 1-2-3 from the phone in the room. I made my bed on the pull out couch in Jack’s room but barely slept in it. Instead, I parked myself in the recliner day and night and rocked Jack.  I never stopped humming though. It became an unconscious thing, probably a way to get rid of some nervous energy. I hummed, I rocked and I prayed. We went home six days later. It was one of those slow and steady things, but Jack seemed to improve day after day. We went back for a follow up MRI 5-6 weeks later and things were looking good. Then another 3 months later we went back again. It looked amazingly reassuring.

Jack seemed to be on track with his brothers as far as language and developmental milestones. At times, I worried he was a little bit more emotional and harder to transition through activities. It was hard to know if anything was related to this or if he was just being “Jack.” Our last follow up in December gave me re-assurance once again. We met with the surgeon and he started out by saying Jack was basically a miracle child. Isn’t that what every parent wants to hear?! We were told that his MRI was looking even better than expected. Prior to surgery, we were given the information that some parts of his brain may never form due to the damage, but it was hard to predict. This MRI showed that most of the space that had been once occupied by the cyst were now occupied by brain tissue. There was only a small area of fluid left but otherwise his MRI looked almost normal. It was amazing to hear and amazing to see the progression of his MRI results over the past several months.

We will not have a follow up again until December of this year but so far Jack’s progress has been incredible. There’s not a day that goes by without me looking at him and being amazed at the sweet, happy, and smart little boy he is growing up to be. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him as my sunshine Jack and I’m in awe of all the odds he’s beaten so far in his short little life. I still hum “You Are My Sunshine” every night when I rock the boys to sleep. If I close my eyes, it brings me right back to that hospital with Jack and the tears usually follow. That simple song brings on a world of emotions. Not because it creates sadness, but because it reminds me how truly blessed I am to be holding Jack safe and happy in my arms in that moment. It reminds me to be grateful daily for what we have, and appreciate life for what it is. Mostly though, it reminds me that miracles do happen.

Triplets turn TWO!

The triplets are two! Happy birthday to Myles, Jack and Colton!

Wow, are we ever thankful and happy to celebrate this two year birthday! People still often ask “how we do it.” Honestly, most of the time I have no clue what I’m doing or if I’m doing it right. I’m sorry to say I use Google a lot. I will put this out there as a “things I’ve learned” though for anyone coming up through the parenting of multiples process behind me… I would hope I’ve learned a lot more than just this but my memory doesn’t work quite like it used to!

Anticipate- This is a personal favorite in my house. I constantly tell my husband he needs to anticipate their next move. Kids are sneaky and they are fast. Always be thinking a few steps ahead of them to anticipate what they will do next to help avoid disaster.

Multi-task- You should always be doing at least two or three things at once. Never sit down. Life is going to keep moving and it only takes a few seconds to get behind. If you’re sitting, then you’ve probably forgotten something…like a load of laundry in the dryer or a kid at school…

Have a mantra- It’s important to have some encouraging words or a phrase that you whisper to yourself every so often…you know, like “you’re doing a great job” or “this is only temporary” to keep your spirits up when times are tough. My personal mantra is “you’d be a great mom, you just have too many kids…”

Silence is something to fear- As much as you might want peace and quiet, silence can sometimes be downright terrifying. Just when you let your guard down and you are enjoying a few moments of quiet, that’s when you are going to walk around the corner and find IT. IT can be a lot of things, most of them not enjoyable. IT refers to what the little minds come up with to entertain themselves while you are busy. IT could be a pile of crushed cheerios on the floor, an entire bookshelf of books pulled apart or a toddler standing there with a handful of poop. Either way, beware of the silence.

Just keep going- I laugh when people say things like “I don’t know how you do it” or “I could never do that.” Yes, you can…and you would, if you had to. There is no choice involved other than to get up every day and just keep going. You do what you have to do. Some days are fun and make you feel like it’s all worth it. Other days you might feel like you’re on your death bed with the flu but you have no choice but to shove a kleenex up your nose and move along. That’s the wonderful thing about motherhood, you have no choice but to keep going…for the next 18 years.

Count your blessings- It can always get worse. It can and it probably will. It will also get better. That’s the beauty of life, it has its up and downs and sometimes you need to just hang on and do what you can to enjoy the ride.

Invest in sticky notes- Use them often and put them everywhere. This will help you feel more organized, either that or drive you to insanity.

Set low expectations- Try to have only a few things you want to accomplish each day, and then don’t be disappointed if you don’t get them done. Keep your expectations low, very low… For example, if you get nothing else done other than taking a shower, congratulate yourself. You had a great day!

Pick your battles- It’s good advice but with limitations. We hear this often because kids are irrational and prone to random fits. Sometimes we just need to “let it go” to stay sane. But with multiple toddlers, they band together. What one doesn’t think of the other will. They are smart enough to figure out how to team up and they will notice any battle you choose not to fight. And then they will attack…usually all at the same time. And suddenly you will have no choice but to wake up every morning and slap on some war paint and just accept the fact that you are probably going to get your ass handed to you.

This pretty much sums up where we are at right now. Day to day life can be exhausting but I can’t believe how incredibly lucky we are to have two year old triplets! I still believe with great challenges come great rewards, and that is so true of parenting. These boys can get into a lot of trouble now but they can also give the warmest hugs, sweetest kisses, and say “love you” which (most of the time) makes it all worth it. Happy birthday to our sweet baby boys!!

Also, if you’d like to enjoy a little recap of what our life has looked like the past two years click here

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5liYZOM-XY&feature=youtu.be

 

So it begins…

Today Kylie lost her first tooth. All of a sudden it snuck up on me. She seems so grown up now as she grins at me with her toothless little smile. I’m honestly not even sure how to feel about this new development but I fear it has brought with it a lot more emotion than it should have. In some ways, Kylie became the “big girl” the moment the triplets were born. She was no longer the baby and instead was thrust into this world where she needed to be almost adult like. She suddenly needed to be so independent with every task and emotion because mommy and daddy were so busy caring for three other babies. I knew it wasn’t fair to expect so much out of her just because she became the big sister to three brothers in less than three minutes, but we were in survival mode. I guess some part of me thought we would eventually get it under control and magically have time to let her go back to her carefree little childhood. Well, we didn’t… I’m not even sure why I ever thought “control” was in any way, shape, or form connected to the process of parenting! So today, she lost her first tooth and is now celebrating becoming a “big girl” and the fact that she will now be getting “permanent teeth.” Her words.. I’ve spent the last two years desperately needing her to be a “big girl” and all of a sudden now I’m not sure I’m really ready for it. I’ve never been one to think I will miss the baby years…truth be told, I still don’t think I will truly miss the actual baby stage. But part of me is sad to realize I missed HER toddler/preschool years. We’ve been so busy just trying to hang on through the wild ride of the baby/toddler years of the triplets that I feel like we missed out on Kylie’s childhood a little bit. Today it hit me just how intense it is going to be as we cram every milestone of our four children into the span of 2-3 years. I’m hoping that is partially to blame for whatever is going on in my heart right now, but whatever it is hurts a little bit. I’ve never wanted to cry on the shoulder of my dentist quite as much as I do now! It’s odd for me because I have always been a big believer in not looking back. Life is all about change. I do think if too much time is spent pining away on “what was” you can not fully enjoy “what is.” I’ve celebrated every milestone of my children up to this point with pride, but this is the first time I’ve felt like I wasn’t quite ready. Maybe because she’s only four and a half…or maybe it just makes me realize how fast the rest of this all will go. I still feel quite happy that John and I are at the beginning stages of our family. I’m happy to celebrate the boys turning two in less than two weeks. I’m stupidly feeling optimistic that maybe the intensity of our “home life” will ease up a bit but I also know that, realistically, it probably won’t. Either way, we’re moving forward, whether I’m ready or not. Kylie will be getting a visit from the tooth fairy and soon we’ll be celebrating another year with the triplets!