3! What's that like?

Well, a lot like your one, I imagine.

Only...

The victories, they are bigger. Like when they can crawl down the stairs and stand in the door to the garage and wait there to be loaded into the car. And when they can brush their own teeth, well enough to count it as brushing. And when they can hold their own bottle. For that one you do a little dance. Find their thumb, can put their own pacifier back into their mouth, feed themselves yogurt. I think if you have one these thing might be called milestones. But with three they are victories. You might someday look back on the days when you were holding babies and replacing pacis with the tiniest bit of sadness and longing. But in the moment, they are windows to a whole new world of productivity. It means you get an extra 30 minutes 4 times a day to clean the kitchen and fold laundry, or 2 fewer trips down the stairs to get out the door. It means you might actually, on occasion, go out the door.

You don't have time to be upset for your child who just got 3 shots, because you are already preparing the next for their turn and keeping the first from falling out of the pumpkin seat and on to the tiled floor. When you are packing to leave in the time it takes to change 3 diapers, dress 3 bodies, put shoes & socks on 3 kids, track down coats and get ready to head for the door there is 3 times the likelihood that someone will poop. Which means EVERY SINGLE TIME you have to rechange at least 1 child. It is much less frustrating if the pooper is not already strapped into their carseat.

It is planning for everything. How are we going to get them from the car to the door. If at the last minute he can't meet me there do I have the right stroller to get them inside. Will this office fit the triple stroller and if not who will ride and who will be carried or who MIGHT hold my hand while I push. Will they have enough high chairs. Do we have enough diapers. Do I have enough energy. What if I have to pee. Will there be breakables and can I find them first. It is knowing that meltdown's are contagious and you do not have enough arms to calm them all. It is always being outnumbered. It is sticking to the schedule. Period. It means nap times are beyond necessary for your longevity.

You wonder why when they are on the changing table they are a totally different child and realize with the tiniest hint of horror that it is the only time they get your undivided attention. Learning to share is a process that starts before birth. Giving each other a break is taking one child with you to the store to leave only 2 with your husband. It means sitting down to read Goodnight Moon counts as taking a breather and cooking dinner for adults counts as me-time. Eating dinner yourself before 8 is a win and eating dinner as a family is a minor miracle.

It is knowing there is a safest place in the car and only one of them can be placed there, trying not to discuss your fertility health with every stranger you meet, realizing that 3 really isn't all that many because you have friends with 4, 5, and 6 that somehow manage too. It is understanding that they each deserve to be held way more than they are and snuggled far more often than they can be. It is also efficiency and making do and more hugs than I thought I would ever give or receive in this lifetime.

I don't know, what's one like?

What a beautiful day

It's raining. There is a giant person swallowing size hole in our lawn. And a bulldozer...or digger...who knows...I am female. The kitchen drain is clogged past where the dishwasher runs out. We are eating off of paper plates and rinsing high chair trays one at a time as the sink clears. Mya is out of Felbatol and the office hasn't yet called in her new script. This is during her Topomax wean so we are living dangerously. The dishwasher isn't cleaning dishes but we are blaming congress. No really, Google it.

If you are a Facebooker, your feed has probably been littered with the 'I am thankful' lists this month. So here is mine:

• For a roof over my head to stop the rain.
• For indoor plumbing, when the water is on and the drains are clear.
• For seizure meds that only sort of work, because not working at all would be way worse.
• For dishwashers, even if the dishes are only sort of cleaner than when they went in.
• For a husband that makes a bazillion phone calls to fix the plumbing and refill the meds and scours forums to diagnose all our problems. And has yet to run the other way screaming.
• For kids that sleep. A really long time. And wake up laughing.
• For the 26 children's books on our end table and getting to read every single one at least once a night.
• For toddlers who eagerly put all 26 books back on the end table at the end of the night, and their laundry in the hamper, and their diapers in the pail. For that, I know, will not always happen.
• For two who laugh and dance and squeal and for one who has been alert enough to appreciate the show.
• For 2 days during the week to be home with my babies. And for 3 days a week to recover.

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And if you have recently had the, 'huh, do we need a new dishwasher?' conversation, no, you don't. Bernie found this article. I love that Proctor & Gamble tells the customer to wash her dishes by hand. Dishes still dirty?

Baby!

Crocs? No!

Pumas? No!

Brown? No!

Black? Thumbs up!

Well hey there baby. Yes, you may borrow my outfit.



Miss Mya - 1 week old

1 in 8 babies are born prematurely in this country

Many of them do not survive. We were so infinitely blessed.

1 in 8 mothers will laugh at their birthing plans.
1 in 8 fathers will leave their wife's side to be with their tiny new child.
1 in 8 new families will not leave the hospital together.

November 17 is World Prematurity Day. Hug a preemie. I just hugged 3 =)

http://www.marchofdimes.com/mission/prematurity_wpd.html

What can she do

...you know, like what are her milestones. Is she sitting up, crawling, walking, babbling.

I have answered that question too many times lately. For some reason it always catches me off guard. I spend every day with the child. You would think I could answer a simple question. Where is she developmentally? But for a split second I freeze. She can do so much, but how do I explain it to you when you just jumped to the conclusion that a 20 month old should be walking. Well, huh. Oh yeah, she used to roll from her side to her back. But that has kind of stopped. I think we are close to getting it back though. Ask me again in a few weeks. She can activate a switch, if you rig it up so it doesn't get pushed off her lap. She can hold her head. Well, sort of. For a minute. Okay that's a figure of speech. For approximately 7 seconds. No, she has no variation in her sounds. But she does let you know when she is hungry. Wait, has she been hungry lately? We had to back her food down to continuous last week, so she pretty much hasn't had a chance to be hungry. She smiled today. When I moved her and picked her up. I was worried for a bit. But I think we still have the smile. Look, she is delayed. Profoundly. Can you just write that on your sheet.

I am with you Mya. I have been having a hard time holding my head up lately too. Lets just regroup. Breathe. Lets focus on the seizures and the feedings. The milestones will follow. All this other nonsense, the tenectomy, the strabismus, the endocrinologist, the botox, Back-off. There is a child in there somewhere. She needs to get back to bolus feeds and intentional rolling. Can you make that happen with your anesthesia or your copays? Probably not.

So the other day I had one of those moments where I stood on the border of belief and disbelief. Mya was holding 2 feathers. An orange one is in her right hand and a blue one in her left. It was during vision therapy. What a simple concept. Give her something bright to hold so that she can see where her hands are. Why didn't I think of that? Besides the point. She is catching more visually to her right that to her left, but by the end of therapy she is seeing the blue feather. So as Jo is writing her notes and packing up to leave she occasional calls out, Mya, where are your feathers, Show me your feathers. And three times in a row Mya vocalizes, kicks her legs and lifts her arms. Just an inch or so. But she is looking for her feathers. ON COMMAND. Her ears are telling her brain to tell her eyes to find those little feathers. That is a hell of a lot of relay. And in that moment there is only part of me that believes it was really intentional and in response to Jo's prompts. But the other part of me is telling...me...to back-off. Let this child show us what she can do. In her own time. In her own way. That is why we have therapists. To put feathers in this child's hands and push both of us to keep moving forward.

11 on 11, 11.11.11

This concept was stolen from my friend's blog (check her out, she rocks), and she actually found it here. Sometimes the coolest things aren't original at all. The idea is to, on the 10th of every month, take a picture per hour for 10 hours as a sort of photo montage of the day. I worked yesterday, so that would have been boring. Plus, 11 photos of 11.11.11 is way cooler. Here is my day:

1. Mya, this is getting out of hand.

2. Good morning sunshine!



3. Waiting on PT Patti. See how patiently.




4. Doctors office artwork, the 1st room



5. Doctors office artwork, the 2nd room.

6. Bernie's masterpiece, the 3rd room. I am so proud.

7. Our favorite course in tonight's dinner line-up

8. SO BIG

9. I will miss you daddy. Don't shoot any deer.

10. I hope he sucks his thumb until he is five. Night bud.

11. Surfin the web. And I must add: SO BIG.

And, as I believe in full disclosure, some of the times are fudged a bit. Bernie and I actually spent 6 hours in Children's Hospital with Mya. There are only so many photos of artwork a person can take before they are escorted from the building.

The art of feeding 19 month old maniacs

Lest you think I have it all figured out, I invite you to poke at my daughter's ribs...

I will only eat green eggs, not ham. No really. I fed her eggs scrambled with kale or broccoli for so long that when my freezer stock from the infant stage ran out, she refused to eat it any more.

Those muffins you love, they have carrots in them. A surprising ton of carrots. Next batch you are trying zucchini. And I bet you will like that too.

They might be shaped like dinosaurs, but really they are broccoli. OK in reality they are mostly potatoes and onion powder, but with specs of green. It counts.

You cannot fill their tray. That would be silly. Who eats with a full serving already in front of them? BUT remember when you come back with seconds, they will not touch them, no matter how quickly they finished the first round. Plan accordingly. This does not apply to breakfast, fruit or apple straws. Oh and crackers. They will eat a shit-ton of crackers.

A child can survive on carnation instant breakfast and whole milk alone. Thank you Mya for that lesson. When desperate: chocolate milk day.

We do not like new things. We are tiring of old things. Good luck. A genius is one who takes a new thing and tricks them into thinking they have liked it before.

Now leaves, those she likes to put in her mouth.

Snack traps!

Measure, fill, set, clear, prime, vent, run..run..run...beeeeep, 'uh-oh', prime, rinse.

Chicken salad. Mayonnaise makes anything taste good.

Same goes for ketchup.

And Sweet Baby Rays.

Stamping your feet and spinning in circles will get you a laugh, but will not make them finish their milk.

A few mighty fine insects and a tottling arachnid

Our first ever treat-or-treating experience amounted to 4 houses and only a few tears. Understandable. It is tough work being a spider. After the required candy dump and some coaxing they sampled some of their winnings. Isn't that a favorite childhood memory, checking out the loot and making a few strategic trades. Or in our case, thefts. At first we had to convince them that Kit Kats are actually crackers but once Clayton got a taste he was 2-fisting and drooling chocolate. Between the pizza in the oven, the kids at the door, and the first ever candy highs we lost track of a few pieces of candy. I am pretty sure someone ate half the foil off a mini Reese's and we did well to dig the Hershey's paper out of Clayton's mouth and scrape the chocolate off the sofa. I will call the evening a success. Now we have a ridiculous amount of candy left over and I feel sick to my stomach. I wonder if those two things are related? What a great day to be a kid, or a spider.

The candy-mobile

The keys got to go trick-or-treating too. Really they saved Halloween.

Mya says enough already, my teeth are going to fall out!

What a precious ladybug.