Tuesday Tip: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff: Savor it!

One of life's simple pleasures: Puddle Jumping!

I tend to find myself feeling a bit, well, schmoopy, this time of year.   As the seasons change and class picnics and school concerts fill the calendar, I am reminded daily of how fleeting this time with our children is; of how today's hardships provide tomorrow's humor and how, in the blink of an eye, these little ones who needed us move on, move up and move out.  

Ok, technically, with our oldest only seven, I know that no one is moving out any time soon but, I can't help but be struck by the fact that our seven and five year old are pretty much over me.  Sure, they still need me in some ways but, I'm no longer the center of their world.  Whereas they once thought I could do no wrong, they now know that I can and do.  They are smart, independent and savvy.  And that's the way it should be.

On the other hand, our trio of identical three-year olds still worship the ground I walk on.  They still occasionally cry when I go to work and routinely run to the door and jump into my arms when I come home.  They greet me each morning with a smile, filled with anticipation for the day ahead and asking as they rub the sleep from their eyes "Is today a Mommy day?"  Of course, every day is a Mommy day but in their world, a "Mommy Day" is a day I don't work.  Today, we had a "Mommy morning" and it made me realize how important it is not sweat the small stuff, but to embrace it.  Today, instead of yelling at them for jumping in puddles, I joined them.  Instead of stopping them from splashing in the tub, I simply shut the shower curtain and let them have at it.  And you know what?  It was awesome.  Small stuff; little moments; daily routines; shared secrets -- these are the wonders of parenthood.  And, as far as I'm concerned, they are passing by far too quickly. That's why I plan to seize every chance I get to...

• Hold hands
• Jump in puddles
• Look at bugs
• Snuggle and cuddle
• Sing silly songs
• Eat ice cream
• Yell less and smile more

These are the things that make Mommy Days memorable -- and the reasons why it's just not worth it to sweat the small stuff.  In the end, the small stuff will be forgotten, your small ones will be big and we'll realize that little did we know, it was some of these small things that mean the most.  Hopefully, like the day that I took the morning off to splash in puddles!

Tuesday Tip: When toddlers say no-no to naptime

People always seem to marvel when I tell them our kids still take naps.  Not all of them, of course.  At six years old, Liam is hard-pressed to sit still let alone lie down during the day but even so, our family frequently enjoys "quiet time" on weekends; Liam will read, Ciara (now almost five) will still take an occasional nap and at 2 1/2, Kevin, Declan and Cormac still take a 2 1/2 hour nap on most afternoons. 

How?  Why?  I suppose because in our house, NOT napping was NEVER an option.  I confess that we are blessed with naturally good sleepers; we've been extremely lucky in that regard.  However, even good sleepers will occasionally engage in a "survival of the sleepiest" battle at naptime and our house is no exception.  When the battle begins, we armor up and agree to never surrender.  We just can't give in to a trio of toddlers throwing a tantrum.  If we do, chaos will reign, they will take over and be swinging from the chandelier before I can say "back to bed!"  That's my fear, anyway.  And I think my fear has a lot to do with my good nappers.

I love to sleep. And frankly, I am afraid of the me I become when I don't get a good night's sleep; this is why I would force feed bottles to all of our kids at midnight -- not because I was innately concerned about their nutritional intake but rather, I knew if their bellies were full, this Mama would have a shot at six uninterrupted, blissful hours of shut-eye.    The sleep-deprived me is kind of scary; she is not someone you'd want to leave your five kids alone with. I'm not proud to admit it but when I'm overtired, I act just like an OTT (OverTired Toddler) -- irrational, stubborn, prone to crying, you get the gist.  It is because I know this about myself that I am dedicated to ensuring my kids get the rest they need.  At naptime as at nighttime, their sleep time is my downtime.  Those Sunday afternoons when the whole clan is down are the only moments Des and I have to sit and read the paper... or, perhaps more likely, mow the lawn or chop veggies for the week ahead.  Either way, nap time is time we need and we count on and I think a few simple ground rules have laid the groundwork for our success with sleepers:

1. Resiliance.  As I mentioned, no nap was never an option here in the Lyons Den.  No matter how intense the whining, the crying, the screaming, the tossing of toys and taking off of sheets and on more than one occasion, the famed Triplet Diaper Toss, we never caved in.  They stayed in their cribs.  They cried it out.  And they eventually tired out.  And went to sleep.  Usually, anyway.  On the days where two hours went by and sleep never came, there was still quiet time.  And even if it wasn't so quiet, it was still two hours that I wasn't tripping over toddlers. Is it always easy?  No way.  But Is it worth it in the end to battle through?  Absolutely.
2. Rewards.  For now, the triplets are still in their cribs but, it won't be long before they are out and relishing the freedom of a "big boy bed."  When this day comes, I'm sure they will test us in the same ways Liam and Ciara did -- appearing every five minutes in need of a glass of water or another book or another kiss or hug or back rub or... you get the idea!  This one stumped us at first.  And our first attempt to regain control wasn't successful -- the route we initially took was the punishment/deprivation route.  As in "if you get out of bed one more time I will take away your (fill in the blank)" or "you won't be able to watch TV for a week!"  This proved totally ineffective and doubly frustrating as we were met with responses like "I don't like that anymore anyway!" or, worse yet, "I don't care!"  I expected to hear these words from a sullen teen, not a tired toddler.  Far more successful for us has been positive reinforcement.  As in "if you just lie down for an hour, you can watch a half hour of TV when you get up."  More often than not, by the time the hour rolls by, their eyes have rolled back in their heads, they are sweetly snoring and when they wake up quite possibly grumpy because they lost the battle, you'll be glad to offer them their consolation prize -- which in our house, is a half hour of The Backyardigans.
3. Repetition. When it comes to parenting, we've rarely had success the first time around (see above: force feeding bottles at midnight actually resulted in more spit up than anyone should ever experience!).  That's why we tend to live by the mantra, if at first you don't succeed, try try again!  Don't give up and before you know it, your little tot will be having sweet dreams... and hopefully you will too!

Life with 2 year old triplets: the rest of the story

As I mentioned in one of last week’s post, life with a trio of two-year olds tots most certainly has its ups and downs. Kevin, Declan and Cormac are as jolly as the day is long but, sometimes the day can be very long – and those are the days that tend to be the toughest. In the spirit of honoring my promise to share the “horrid” and dispel any myths that I’ve been brainwashed or medicated into believing that my children are truly cherubs, here are a few glimpses into the darker side of life in the Lyons Den.

You may recall the cherished moments I went on about last week… the sweet snuggles, the fantastic firsts, the belly laughs and how amazing it is to experience them all times three. Well, the same rationale applies to the downsides that you’d rather not recall – the spit up, runny noses, exploding diapers, temper tantrums and tiny tyrants – we’ve got all of those times three too! I get through the day by focusing on the positive – the smiles, the hugs and yes, even those snot-nosed sloppy kisses. But, I’d be remiss - -and downright dishonest – if I didn’t reveal some of the more trying times that our triplets provide.

For starters, there is the noise. The cacophony of three screaming toddlers (often amplified by their arguing siblings in the background) is sometimes just too much to bear. It gets insanely loud. There is just no more articulate way to put it. It is deafeningly, horrifyingly, maddeningly LOUD! And naturally, when the trio gets going, I’m not usually in my best form. I might be hungry or tired or ornery or stressed out (who wouldn’t be?!) and to my own dismay, often find myself screaming above the din just to be heard. Needless to say, that doesn’t work. You know what worked? The night I took the trash out and didn’t come back. Truth be told, I just didn’t come back as quickly as they expected. I deliberately took out the trash to get away from the noise, to clear my head, to get some fresh air. And I stayed outside long enough to do just that. Long enough to take a few deep breaths, look at the stars, pray for patience and brace myself to address the din inside. It was just a few minutes, less than five, I’d say. But you know what? When I walked in, it was quiet. You could hear a pin drop. This is a strategy that I’d highly recommend – I think it’s why they say “when the going gets tough, the tough get going” – they just forgot to mention that it’s good to go back again!

Then there’s the mess. The “mess” can fall into any number of categories – food (in the form of literally “mashed” potatoes, flying hot dogs, spaghetti face and numerous other iterations), bodily functions (including but not limited to boogies as hair gel, poop as an art form and our home as a “Vomitorium”), toys (ranging from the piercing pain of Legos underfoot to the “wall as canvas” approach to arts and crafts). All of these “messes” are a natural part of having kids – or at least that’s what I tell myself to remain at least partially sane. But, when they are multiplied by three, well, let’s just say that even a Magic Eraser can’t help. Trust me, I’ve tried! Here’s the thing about the messes though – when we first thought about having kids, I had some real reservations – a fair amount of them rooted in the fear of the mess – sticky hands, runny noses, constant drooling – I really didn’t think I was up for any of it. But, it turns out, I am. There have been many things about parenting I didn’t think I was up for (most of it, in fact!) but, the many messes have shown me that learning to roll with it, to accept things as they are, is one of the best things about having kids… whether they arrive one at a time or in a bundle of three!


So, while it’s true that when they are good, they are very very good and when they are bad, they are horrid, Kevin, Declan and Cormac have taught me a lot about myself and that, I have to say, is very very good.

Whodunnit?!

It was bound to happen. In fact, it has already happened several times with less significant consequences. Me, looking at three identical toddlers, asking these adorable, wide-eyed little boys who is responsible for an array of grievances that range from ripping books to throwing sand. They have mastered the “not me”, “he did it”, finger-pointing, blame averting response like little con-artists in training -- leaving me to wonder, “Geez, they just turned two, what’s next?!”

 Well, I didn’t have to wait long to find out:

Yep, our couch. There was an artsy adventure that apparently included a ball point pen, one (or more?!) of my trio of tots, and our beige couch. This is the couch we got when we were first married; the color was chosen because it would hide the fluffy golden fur of our retriever.  The notion of a dark patterned couch to hide the pen stains of toddlers never even crossed our minds.  Ah, if only we'd known.

In the past eight years, this couch has been chewed by our second dog, baptized by breast milk, christened with newborn spit-up and now permanantly adorned by our budding artiste... or artistes... the only question is, which one?

I will say, one of them had a pen in hand and, since I naturally jumped to conclusions, he was swiftly removed and none too pleased about it:
 

It was then I realized I nothing but circumstantial evidence.  This guy insisted another guy did it and that guy pointed his finger at the third one.  None of these fingers had ink stains and all three tykes were insistent that it wasn't him -- leaving me to simply shake my head, search for the stain stick (wish me luck!) and wonder what will be next.  Stay tuned because I'm quite certain it will be something and, I'm quite certain these three mischievous tots are sharing in the sense of victory that my "not guilty" plea elicted from Suspect Number One:

What does a Mama say?

This weekend, I came up with a pretty ingenious game for our two-year old triplets, if I do say so myself!  Now, we all know that it's tons of fun to ask your tiny tot what various animals say...

What does a cow say?  MOO!  What does a lamb say?  BAA!  What does a duck say?  QUACK, QUACK, QUACK!  What does a kitty-cat say?  MEOW!  What does a lion say?  ROAR! What does a rooster say?  COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!  The rooster has really been my favorite until now.  Until my clever new addition to this age-old game of toddler wits:  What does a Mama say?

Now, with a sassy four year old and a savvy six year old in the house, this question could be answered in a number of unfortunate and unflattering ways...

NO!  Stop it!  Did you hear me?!  STOP YELLING!  Hurry up!  Let's go!  NOW!  Finish your breakfast/lunch/dinner!  Put your shoes on.  NOW!  Don't hit/bite/kick your sister/brother!  Go to your room! NO!  Drink your milk.  NO!  How am I supposed to know where your shoes are?  TIME OUT! Clean up!  NOW!

If only I'd thought of this smart little toddler mind-game when my first two were just tots.  But, as I always say, better late than never.  I am quite proud to have three chirping little cherubs at home who will now (and hopefully for quite some time to come!) answer the question "What does a Mama say"  buy enthusiastically responding "I love you!"  And, since there are three of them, I get "I love you, I love you, I love you!"  I know, it is a bit self-serving but really, nothing beats it.  And, if one of them thinks that a pig says neigh and a horse says oink, well, as long as they know what a Mama says, that's good enough for me! 

The Terrible Twos? I Think Not!

We’re coming up on a major milestone here in the Lyons Den. This weekend, on 10.10.10 (an especially appropriate date!) our identical triplets will turn two. This is a significant turning point for us and, while some folks may think of the “twos” as a “terrible” time full of tantrums and tirades, I’d prefer to offer up the possibility that what lies ahead may in fact be the “terrific twos.”
 In considering the past twenty four months, we’ve most certainly had our fair share of ups and downs and there are plenty of things that I’m happy to leave behind… nursing and pumping for three hefty fellas from my two tiny breasts, sleepless nights, ass-blaster diapers – you know the ones, the icky mustard colored poops that leak out the side, typically at 3AM? Formula, formula and more formula followed by gallon after gallon of whole milk. If only we had a yard large enough for a cow, I’m convinced we could put her to good use! Then there were the spit-ups, the throw-ups and the many times we were just plain fed up. There was the cacophony of three screaming newborns harmonized by two fighting toddlers. There were the Boppies, Exersaucers, Bumbos, and play mats that turned our humble home into a hardcore nursery. There were the panic attacks associated with three little people taking their first steps… and subsequently teetering on the top of our extremely steep steps. There was the never-ending mountain of laundry and nights that seemed to never end. But, when I look back, it’s all gone shockingly fast.


When I look back, I can chuckle at all of these “downs” because what I remember far more vividly are all of the “ups”… the toothless grins that were so rapidly replaced by first teeth, the sweetness of the “big” brother and sister helping us juggle three babies and three bottles, the kindness of family and friends who would arrive unasked and unannounced to simply hold a baby, the sense of accomplishment of getting them all loaded into the triple stroller… and the additional bonus of having the physical strength to push that stroller up our very steep Main Street. There were the days at the beach and playground where sand was the snack du jour and the nights when we snuggled in our bed like peas in a pod. There were first baths, first foods, first steps, the first time I could wear pants with a zipper again and all of the other wondrous firsts that accompany these first few years of life.


It is with this sense of wonder that I anticipate the “twos” – knowing, as I do, that there will indeed be some ugly moments – full blown, carpet-kicking tantrums and in all likelihood, more extreme, adamant and repeated use of every two year olds favorite two letter word: NO!  But, there will also be the fun and joy and humor that these little guys bring to our lives each and every day. The humming and singing and chattering and dancing and silliness that can make me instantly forget a bad day at work or yet another sleepless night. So, while some might dread the pending second birthday, I’m ready. And, I’m psyched. And, I’m grateful, overjoyed and yes, at times even a bit stunned to know that we’ve done it. We’ve survived the first two years with “five under five” and look forward to what the future holds.

So long, Summer of Peril!

It’s hard to believe that the summer has gone so quickly. I remember thinking over Memorial Day Weekend that this summer would likely be recalled as the “Summer of Peril.”  What other way was there to consider the hazy, hot, humid days that streteched ahead through Labor Day... days that would be filled with poolside ventures , backyard barbecues and beachy weekends attended by my own personal set of Backyardigans – a full set of five that included only one swimmer (which is a flattering description of Liam ‘s ability though fortunately, he does keep himself afloat!), one pink-Croc wearing sprinter, and three toddlers, in the most literal sense of the word. As I look back on Summer 2010, I realize (once again) just how lucky we are.


To provide you with just a quick rundown… there were consistently little Lyons Cubs running into the street as we chased them shouting “No, no! No, no, no!” … which, of course, they interpreted as “GAME ON!” and ran all the faster. Then there were the backyard barbecues… “HOT!” we’d yell as they approached the fiery grill with outstretched hands. And we can’t overlook the stairs, inside and out, that were tumbled down repeatedly, resulting in lumps and bumps and frequent use of the “Boo Boo Bunny.” There were snack drawer invasions, toilet bowl fishing expeditions, crib climbing and table dancing. There were falls from bikes and trikes and trips from tree roots and uneven sidewalks. There was one impressive bee sting, millions of mosquito bites, a case of strep throat, a few ear infections and the realization that one of our car seats has a curse – whoever sits in it inevitably pukes. So, of course, to keep things fair, we rotate the kids in that seat so that everyone gets their fair share of puking. Thoughtful, right?


Then there’s the challenge that the pool and beach present. We made it to Labor Day with nary a scare despite the triplets tottering at the water’s edge for months. And then it happened. On the unoffical last day of summer, we let our guard down. In the blink of an eye, two of our tots ended up in the deep end of my parents’ pool, bringing all our fears of the Summer of Peril front and center. Thank God that in the next blink of an eye my Dad and brother-in-law fished them out. Thank God that they were only shaken up and not physically harmed. And, thank God that the Summer of Peril is finally behind us!


I am so ready to put away the Crocs and pull out the sneakers. Needless to say, I’ve already packed away the swimsuits and located the snowsuits. I’m really looking forward to Fall adventures that I hope will include apple picking and pumpkin carving and who knows, maybe even lighting a fire in the fireplace… although, maybe that should wait just a bit longer… I don’t think my nerves are ready for an Autumn of Peril; instead, I’m hoping for a Fall with few falls, frequent laughs and a continued sense of gratitude for our mischievous little Cubs.

Smitten!

I’m not exactly proud to admit this but, we used to be afraid of the triplets. Very afraid. Come to think of it, in those early infant days, we were afraid of Liam and Ciara too. Very afraid. I think the sleeplessness that plagues parents of newborns awakens a primitive survival instinct – DO NOT WAKE A SLEEPING BABY!!!!!!!!!!! Do not go near them! Do not walk, tread, breathe, sneeze or utter a word in their slumbering presence… for if you do, you just may wake the monster within. You just might find yourself up all night yet again -- endlessly shushing, rocking, feeding, strolling, bouncing, swaying, possibly swearing and fiercely fighting fatigue until your precious little one gives up the fight and starts sweetly snoozing just as the sun comes up.

We’ve all be there, right? Well, imagine being there times THREE! Imagine the panic of THREE tiny wonders waking up in the middle of the night, demanding God knows what – are they hungry? Hot? Cold? Overtired? Restless? Gassy? Need a new diaper? Onesie too tight? Whatever could it be?! Those first months home with the triplets were a total blur. I honestly don’t know how we did it. Sure we had a baby nurse helping with the night shift for three weeks but let’s face it, these kids didn’t sleep through the night for at least six months! And ever since, well, we’re always up for one thing or another – between the five kids in total, there’s typically someone who is teething, someone who lost their “wawa”, someone with a dirty diaper, someone with a nasty cold or stomach virus, someone who wet their bed, someone who made it to the potty just in time without wetting the bed and thinks 3 AM is a good time to tell us about it… you get the picture. So, perhaps you will understand why we pretty much lived in fear of our trio of tots for a while. We were sleep deprived. In a big, bad way.


But, I think it’s fair to say that we’ve officially turned a corner. While we used to tiptoe by the closed door of the babies’ room holding our breath, we now take a peek inside. We’re increasingly likely to venture in, unable to resist the cute factor of three little rumps up in the air as the triplets peacefully slumber. We might even loiter just a bit, hoping that one of them will wake up and reward us with a big toothy grin. And if he does, we might even pick that little fella up and give him a great big hug because we just can’t resist. We are officially smitten.


Smitten! Our little guys exude oodles of charm and we’re suddenly under their spell as we watch them toddle around like a true band of brothers – constantly into mischief and yet so innocent at the same time. They live in the inevitable limbo-land of a growing vocabulary, increasing mobility and daily progression toward becoming real rough and tumble little boys. Our snuggle time is growing sparse and It won’t be long now until they no longer want an “uppie.” And, while I’d like to believe that it won’t be long until the biting and hair pulling stops, I suspect we may be in for a lifetime of testosterone induced scuffles. Whatever comes next, I’m going to do my best to enjoy this magical melee that is life as we know it now. My mornings begin with a trio of 20-month olds who greet each day joyfully bouncing in their cribs as they sing “Mama! Mama! Mama!!!” It’s hard to imagine it can get better than that. Although, something tells me it just might. By the way, did I mention that I’m smitten?

Monkey See, Monkey Do!

It’s pretty common for younger siblings to mimic everything the “big” ones say or do. And there’s a certain amount of adoration that I think, if you’re lucky, comes naturally among brothers and sisters. It’s a phenomenon I witness daily when Ciara (now 3) wakes up and groggily utters “Where’s Liam?” These are her very first words seven days a week. Not “I’m hungry” or “Good morning.” Not “Hi Mom,” “I have to pee” or “I don’t want to get up.” Just a sincere, concerned and eager “Where is Liam?!”

She worships him. Her big brother is two years older and has introduced her to everything from Santa Claus to silly bands. In fact, one of her first words was indeed “Santa.” In any case, she is prone to eat what he eats, repeat what he says, follow him wherever he goes and hang on his every word.

Now that our triplets are 19 months old, they have heroes of their own as they follow Liam and Ciara around like little ducks in a row. My “big” kids definitely appreciate the attentive audience that a trio of one year olds provide and are prone to put on a good show for them. Occasionally however, the triplets just want to do their own thing. As one might have predicted, these little fellas have a language of their own and take the “monkey see, monkey do” dynamic that Liam and Ciara have mastered to a whole new level.

A few weeks ago, we were visiting friends for dinner. They had a massive swing set in their backyard that I was sure the “babies” wouldn’t go near. As I relaxed with a glass of wine, I looked up to see Declan climbing up the slide -- a seven foot slide! Quicker than I could cross the lawn, Kevin and Cormac were climbing right up behind him; the Crocs they were wearing must have had some sort of super non-slip grip because all three of them somehow made it to the top. And then, all three of them started clapping and chanting some sort of a self-congratulatory cheer – because, whatever one of them does, the other two can’t help but follow.

Having just one toddler has its challenges but with three of them tripping over each other and at times literally tripping me up, I have dubbed Summer 2010 the "Summer of Peril." Since Memorial Day (which I believe was only a week ago?!), I’ve already pulled slippery babes out of the kiddie pool, yanked obstinate tots out oncoming traffic, and put a stop to the jolly good time they had dancing on the picnic table in the backyard. I’ve said “no, no, no” more times than I wish to admit as they tore freshly planted flowers from the ground and tossed clean sippy cups on the dirty floor. Needless to say, I’m a bit of a killjoy. But, with toddler group-think ruling our roost, I don’t see any other choice!

There are upsides to this constant parrot-like mimicry. When one brushes his teeth, the others follow. When one heads in for a bath, the others follow. When one sits down for a snack, the other two plop down next to him in a neat little line. Now, if I can only figure out how to get one to load the dishwasher or fold the laundry, well, I’d be all the more willing to embrace this “Monkey see, Monkey do” mentality!

Note: this post originally appeared on http://www.parentsask.com/

Demolition Derby

“The babies are coming, the babies are coming!” The urgent call from Liam and Ciara is as sincere and urgent as Paul Revere’s famous warning… because they know that if the babies are coming, destruction can't be far behind. Our “babies” are now truly toddlers and with 19 month old triplets freely roaming around the house, it is officially a demolition derby around here.

As the “babies” race down the hall, Liam and Ciara run to their room and slam the door to protect their Lego creations and dollhouse from disaster. As I yell “Don’t slam the door! Someone will get hurt!” the three tots who’ve been stopped in their tracks erupt into tears. Perhaps their feelings are hurt or possibly they are startled by the loud slam of the door… and then there’s always the chance that someone is missing a finger from the whole incident –it’s hard to tell in the general melee that ensues!

This type of chaos is the new “normal” as we adjust to life with our three man destruction crew. They fill their days by climbing on benches, window sills, chairs and book cases, taking great pride and glee in their newfound abilities. Though I’ve never been to a rainforest, I imagine that the monkeys swinging from the trees are much like my little men swinging from the curtains… cute, but a bit perilous at the same time. One of their greatest joys is dancing on the coffee table. They help each other up – one, two, three - and then, when they’re amply settled, they start waving their hands in the air like they just don’t care. Kind of reminds me of a very late night in a bar many years ago… a scene that I never thought I’d see reenacted by a trio of one year olds… all of whom belong to me!

Obviously, the time has come to take our baby-proofing a bit more seriously. With our first two kids, some simple rules accompanied by outlet plugs and a gate at the top of the stairs pretty much did the trick but these guys seem to need some more stringent baby barriers. They swing on the gate, have been known to remove (and then teeth on) the outlet covers and have unfortunately discovered the joy of playing in the toilet bowl and twirling the knobs on the stove. Sending them out to the yard doesn’t help – at any given moment, they may be teetering on top of the slide, picnic table or steps.

A few months ago, we had a bunch of friends over for dinner and upon noticing our numerous book cases and lack of obvious baby barricades, one of them remarked “Aren’t you brave?! I can’t imagine having so many kids around so many books and breakables!” Well, we would have been wise to heed the hint back then and take this baby-proofing stuff a bit more seriously. In retrospect, we’re most certainly not brave, just a bit naïve and perhaps even foolish! With the “terrible twos” looming in our future, I just hope we all survive that long. I suspect we will, likely with the help of a bit more baby-proofing and hopefully without a trip to the emergency room!

The Awkward Age

This may come as a surprise to you… in fact, it still comes as kind of a surprise to us but, my husband and I really aren’t baby people. Given that there was a short window where we had five kids under four, you’d think we’d be those schmoopie types that just melt at the sight of a newborn and can’t enough of that new baby scent. The reality is we’ve never gone to extremes to ooh and aah over someone else’s precious new babe and it took us a while to warm up to each of our own. Furthermore, we still don’t know what people mean when they bring up the glory of that new baby smell; all our babies always smelled like spit up and dirty diapers, perhaps with a whiff of sweet potatoes thrown in. Not something to get all nostalgic about, if you ask us!



Although we tend to tolerate more than celebrate the first year of life, we can’t help but admit that the old cliché is true and time flies by far too fast. Our triplets officially turn 18 months this week and can hardly be called babies. They are independent, interesting and at times intolerant little individuals. Their onesies don’t fit and their toes are busting out of their footie pajamas. They’ve taunted us by climbing up and unfortunately, falling down the stairs. While fingers are still their favorite utensils, they’ve experimented (with limited success) with spoons and forks and seem to be trying their best to cultivate some table manners. Their bottles have been history for months – a sure sign that the baby days are behind us and the toddler years have arrived. As I watch them babble, banter, toddle and tumble, I can’t help but reflect that these guys are in the midst of a somewhat awkward age that no one really talks about. Let me share some observations…


They are expert walkers but look like they have two left feet when they try to run. They are not bald yet they still don’t have much hair to speak of; what they do have resides on top of their rather large heads in free-form wisps – at times resembling the comb-over look associated with desperate old men and at times cascading down to the rat-tail look that thankfully went out in the 80s. They have very big bellies that sometimes turn the corner before the rest of their little bods. They have some teeth, but not all of them – a look which was adorable with the first few but now looks like the Tooth Fairy is playing a trick on them. They try to talk but are constantly misunderstood... or so they would lead me to believe!


When it comes to teenagers, we expect and anticipate the “awkward age” but when it comes to babies, well, I for one sure didn’t! And, after seeing how quickly our baby days became simply fodder for photo albums, I know that this funny, strange and endearing phase will pass all too quickly. Before we know it, they’ll be out of their highchairs, deciding to wear what they want to wear and running so fast that I can’t keep up. Which is exactly why I’m going to do my best to just take a deep breath and enjoy this time that I know is both precious and fleeting. Not to mention, as soon as these guys can talk, they just might point out that I’m in an awkward phase too… with my fading highlights, rapidly reproducing grays, a few extra pounds and a severely outdated wardrobe, who am I to pass judgement?!

Note: This post originally appeared on www.parentsask.com on April 12, 2010.