Haircuts and Matching Dresses

I cut the girls’ hair today. This is the first “real” cut for all of them, and really it was just a trim, but it felt monumental. I have these little snippets of each girl’s hair, taped together at the end, and I marvel at how different these three little moppets are, each having come out of my womb within 2 minutes of each other. But to look at them, you might not even know that they’re sisters. Sydney has dark eyes- practically black- and hair to match. She is tall and sturdy, and looks a lot like her older sister, Taylor. She has the most ridiculously long and luxuriant hair that I’ve ever seen on a two-year-old, and she wanted me to cut it “short, like Tanner’s” but I would rather cut off my arm. Riley is a wisp of a thing- tall and all elbows and knees and arms and legs. She’s so thin that she doesn’t have enough waist or hips to hold up her pants half the time. And all her black fuzzy hair has turned to dark blond. Her eyes are blue, “just wike Daddy’s.” Bailey… well, we’re not sure where she came by her genes. She’s a good three inches shorter at all times than both of her sisters, and she is petite but so strong, she should never be underestimated. There is power in those compact little muscles (and in that super-sized attitude), and she’ll pounce on you like a tiger if provoked. Her hair is a different shade of dark blond than Riley’s, and her eyes are hazel, “just wike Kelsey’s” (our super babysitter!).

Seriously, if you were to stick them in a room full of other girls and ask a stranger to pick out the triplets, I’m pretty sure that nobody would put them together. This is hilarious to me. Whenever we go out, I see people trying to do the math in their heads; me with all these kids, calculating who belongs with whom. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been told, “Oh, so you do daycare. Which one is yours?” I practically got into a fistfight with an employee at Bennigan’s (a restaurant with free kids’ meals on Tuesdays) because he kept insisting that the freebie special was only good for blood relatives. “They have to all be your own children to get the free meal,” he said over and over again. “They are all mine. ALL OF THEM ARE MINE! Seriously, I would not bring this many of somebody else’s children to a restaurant.” We got the free meals, but I’m pretty sure he never believed me. I really ought to go bring by their birth certificates.

Speaking of which, one of my neighbors also has six small children. (I like this- it makes me not the only freak show in town.) One day two daycare licensing specialists from the state showed up at her door, doing an impromptu “raid” because they’d had an anonymous tip that this woman was running an unlicensed daycare. Seriously. She had to unearth all their birth certificates to prove that the six children were indeed hers. After telling me this story, I lived in a dead panic until I could get to the birth certificate office and (finally) get official copies of the triplets’ birth certificates. Because the daycare cops would never in a million years believe me. Ever.

I’ve actually had people tell me I’m lying when I try to convince them that they are all mine and that they are, indeed, triplets. The Olan Mills photographer kept saying, “No, really. They’re cousins, right? This is an extended family photo shoot?” “No, really, I’m sure that would be fun, but this is an immediate family photo shoot. They really are all mine. Seriously.” “You’re lying!” she exclaimed, and had to sit down and fan herself. And that was BEFORE we started the chaos of trying to get a good picture.

So I dress them alike most of the time. And before you wonder if I’m limiting their sense of individuality and/or doing permanent damage to their psyche, let me assure you that my husband (the developmental psychologist) has passed off on this dressing strategy. But, to be honest, not because it’s good for their mental health, but instead because it’s good for OUR mental health. It’s just plain easier to have three of everything. And, mainly, it’s a lot easier to keep track of them when they look the same. (ie- when we are at the park, I’m just looking for three hot pink shirts and three flowered pants.) It’s a safety thing, which is exactly what I told a fellow soccer mom who side-lined me at practice one day to gently scold me for dressing them the same. Apparently she’d seen a show about this on PBS. I swallowed my initial response (“MYOB, granola lady!!! YOU try head-counting four toddlers at the same time, and then we’ll talk!!!”) and meekly promised to do better. And then I stopped at Target on the way home and bought 2 more matching outfits AND matching shoes, just to be really passive-aggressive.

I can dress them alike for as long as they’ll let me, but the fact remains: they are each very much their own person, and I love that about them.

Play-a-Rama

So we have a playhouse in the middle of our family room. Very chic, I know. I am quite sure that the word will spread and soon every fashionable home will follow suit. Playhouses will be the piece de resistance in the Pottery Barn catalogs.

I suppose this new addition to our décor is very fitting since my little ones call our family “the play room.” Ironic, since we have an actual play room, but it is upstairs and they have jointly decided to abscond upon what should be a nice family room instead. So, what the heck? No amount of classy cubby holes and hip fabric boxes can conceal the fact that my family room, is indeed, a place of play.

This playhouse was a gift from Santa, who spent months searching out the best deals and reading parent toy reviews. He is very savvy, our Santa. The shrieks of delight were heard throughout the neighborhood when the little ones finally saw their fully-constructed playhouse. Not, however, on Christmas day because… unbeknownst to Santa’s elves, this playhouse was a 5 hour construction job. With two people, that is. Guess we shoulda opened up the box and looked at the instructions before Christmas Eve. Luckily for us, the “babies” are still just two, so they were perfectly happy with the miniature kitchen and laundry center that Santa also wisely brought. (Those alone took Quinn 5 hours to put together! And he used to work construction in college!)

A special “thank you” shout-out goes to Uncle Caleb, who helped Quinn put this wretched thing together without complaining even once! (And it really did take 5 hours.) I don’t suppose he knew that his Christmas visit to Florida was going to include this, but he was the best of sports!

So, as if visiting a house full of children and chaos was not enough, we can now offer all of our houseguests unlimited play inside our newly-constructed playhouse, conveniently located in our family/play room. Come one, come all!

Potty Humor

(copy of a mass email I sent out on November 8, 2007)

Hello! I am smack dab in the middle of hades (ie- potty training) and I have decided that if I can't find the humor in it, then it WILL kill me. So, for those of you who keep asking what I'm up to lately... here it is: I pretty much spend all day long with four naked toddlers, either trying to prevent accidents or alternately cleaning them up because I didn't get there fast enough. During those in-between moments, I am trying to keep the kids from pulling all the toilet paper off the tube (they love how it zings in the air!), or, even worse, from putting the whole roll in the toilet. And of course I spend much of the day trying to keep them out of the sink (they flooded the downstairs bathroom a few weeks ago). I HATE POTTY TRAINING!!!!

As for progress: Tanner is totally potty trained, Sydney is almost there, Bailey is getting there, and Riley is nowhere near (and has absolutely no interest!)

As far as underwear goes: Tanner will only wear Thomas the Train, Cars, or Diego undies. Luckily, we are well-stocked. Sydney has a penchant for wearing Taylor's underwear, and therefore has a perpetual crack problem. Riley likes to put on her big girl undies by herself and is so skinny that she usually sticks both legs into one hole and ends up wearing them around her waist. And Bailey- well, let's just say that she prefers to not wear anything at all.

The up-side of all this mess is that I often overhear some funny "potty humor":

Yesterday Bailey did so great that I told her "you are almost potty-trained!" When Carter got home from school, she ran up to him (naked from the waist down, of course) and said, "Carter, I am a potty train!!!!" (which sent all the other kids into making train noises.)

Riley, for the first time, actually had a successful visit to the potty upon which she said, "Oh, I better go tell my guys that I went pee pee in the potty. Hey everybody! I go'ed pee pee in da potty!"

Tanner, trying to encourage Bailey, said,"Oh Bailey! Very good work. That is such pretty pee pee. Good job!"

All four of the kids will shoo everybody away from the bathroom when it is their turn and say, "Go away guys. I need my private-cy."


So, you can probably tell that right now I have no life! Thanks for letting me share, and pardon the crude nature of this message! Hope your days revolve a little less around the bathroom than mine do!

Best Witches and Great Pumpkins

Halloween was a much-anticipated and joyful event at our house. (Free candy AND dressing up- the kids were in heaven!) In fact, we are still "playing twick or tweet" which involves each of the little ones finding a bag or bucket of some sort and knocking on all the doors in our house yelling "twick or tweet" while Tanner runs from door to door and pretends to give them candy. Then they MUST say thank you (or, in Bailey's case "Happy Birthday Halloween!") or Tanner will take the pretend candy away.

The girls were "fairy princess witches" (as Sydney called it) or "the three little hags" (as Quinn preferred.) Tanner was the Chick-Fil-A cow, complete with an "eat more chiken" sign. (Carter's idea.) Taylor was Hannah Montana for one of her many parties, and a "Vampire Princess of Darkness" for some of the others. Carter, sadly, decided that he was too old to dress up and then changed his mind last minute and used my make-up to write all over his face and run around with friends to get candy. (But no photos, of course!)

We had lots of fun parties, including the "Trunk or Treat" at church, and a great play group party at my neighbor's. I think Stacy is the only soul brave enough to invite all four of my toddlers to her house for a play group, let alone a play group Halloween party, but the kids were thrilled! They put on their costumes and had treats and painted pumpkins over there. (Sydney still tells me "We can only paint on paper... or pumpkins." )

With the help of our good friends, the Ross family, we took the little kids all around the neighborhood to trick-or-treat. Once she figured out how it worked, Sydney could not go fast enough to each house, and dragged poor Shirlene behind her! She was on a mission to get as much candy as she could!

And, of course, we made a visit to the pumpkin patch (to buy more pumpkins to paint on- ha ha) with Jared and Carolyn and their boys. It has been such a busy and great month, with a visit as well from Diane and Grandma Roskelley! (I only hope that when I am in my 90's, I get around half as well as "Nana Kelley"!) We had such a great time with everyone who came, and the visits meant so much to us!

So now we head towards Thanksgiving and Christmas... yaay! The only problem is that my little ones do not understand that Halloween is the only holiday you really dress up for. Tanner keeps asking me what he should be for Thanksgiving! I said, "Thankful." His response: "That's too hard. How about I be a Power Ranger?" Can't wait to see what he'll be for Christmas!

My Train Wreck of a Blog

This was my husband’s response when I told him I was starting a blog: “A blog! Wow… um... do you think anybody’s going to want to read it?”

Bless his heart, he didn’t mean to be insulting. (If you know my husband, who is a ridiculously nice guy, you will realize that his question was innocuous.) He just couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why anybody would want to read about the daily exploits of a frazzled mom of multiples plus. So I pointed out that everybody in America LOVES the show “Jon and Kate Plus Eight”, and that this is pretty much what we are, minus two.

He still didn’t get it. (Frankly, he can’t stand to watch that show. It hits a little too close to home, he says.) So I told him to think about a train wreck. No matter how horrifying and gruesome, people can’t help but turn their heads and look.

And me, with my psychologist husband, my preteen, my drama queen, and 4 two-year-olds, well… we are quite often a train wreck. And maybe the wreckage will occasionally amuse somebody.

But who am I kidding? I will have a readership of two (my best friend and maybe my sister, although she’s about to have a baby so I might even lose her for a while) and, honestly, I’m okay with that. If I can make somebody- anybody- snicker for a moment over the insanity of my life, then it’s all good.