A 3 day weekend with 5 tots 7 & under

Tomorrow is a national holiday and I for one am thrilled.  For starters, our five and seven year old actually seem to understand a bit about Martin Luther King and the importance of his role in our society; to see these little people we created start to have some cognizance of the world around them is really pretty cool. Beyond that, like many folks, I'm glad for a day off of work and time to spend with my family.  Although, truth be told, we're only two days in to this three day weekend and I have to say, I'm more tired -- and more broke! -- than ever.

Here's a quick rundown of the events of the past 48 hours...

• Breakfast, breakfast and more breakfast.  Yesterday there was an appetizer course of two boxes of cereal followed by a main course of about a dozen eggs and six bagels, washed down with a half gallon of juice and almost as much milk. What did I get out of the deal?  Coffee and a lot of dirty dishes.  Thank God for coffee!  Today's breakfast was pretty much a repeat, but the eggs and bagels were replaced by dozens of pancakes.  Good news though, I got one before they were gone!  Score one for Mom!
• Costco & Wine.  Our cupboards -- and wine supply -- hit an all-time low this weekend.  So yesterday, my dear hubby took two tykes to the wine store while I took three to Costco.  I didn't realize what a bad deal I got until two of the triplets started crying that the clementines I loaded on top of them were too heavy and I realized I could no longer see my five year old, Ciara, over the top of the cart.  For all I knew, she could have been lingering near the lady giving out PopChips but thankfully, she was still hanging off the end of the cart, doing her best to keep a month's worth of snacks from falling overboard.  Things got worse when I had to navigate the parking lot with a cart that weighed more than I did, three howling kids and gale force winds that were decidedly not at my back.  The upside? An ample supply of wine awaited at home. The downside? A massive dent in our bank account, a back that still aches, four broken nails, a case of possible frostbite and, to add insult to injury, the fact that I arrived home without any milk or paper towels.  And had to go to the grocery store today. Grrrr.
• Accidents.  The triplets, who turned three in October, have been doing pretty well with potty training.  They flaunt their big boy underwear and will show them off whether invited to or not. They are generous in the sharing of their undergarments and the morning chatter often includes things like "Hey KooKoo, wanna wear my Spiderman underwear today?" "Ok MacMac, you can have my red boxers!" I assure you I never thought I'd have a band of brothers swapping skivvies -- just as I never thought my house would be a urinal.  As good as these little fellas are, when they are tired, they get a bit lazy.  So lazy in fact that they forget to go to the potty and free willy -- and all of willy's contents -- wherever they may be. So far this weekend, that has been on the couch, under the table and ON OUR BED! Not good.  Especially since the caffeine has worn off, the wine at this point is unappealing and the reality of several more loads of laundry seems especially daunting given my aching back! 

Looking ahead to tomorrow, the day that we honor this amazing man who had a dream, I realize I have a dream too -- it is nowhere near as noble and is admittedly self serving.  By comparison, it's a downright selfish, small little dream but I bet it's a dream I share with many busy, juggling moms; I dream of a night of uninterrupted sleep that lasts for at least eight hours; I dream of the day the kids will bring me breakfast... or at least share a bit more of theirs; I dream of the day I'm not scrubbing urine, snot, and other bodily fluids out of clothes, furniture and rugs; and, I dream that when those days arrive, I will look back on these days fondly.  Because as long as each day can be, the years most certainly fly by far too fast.  And, aching, tired bod and all, I am so psyched for one more day to play with our little clan. And, when I get to work on Tuesday, I will be grateful for a yogurt to call my own and a chair to sit down on!

The Summer I did hard time... Potty time

When I look back on the summer of 2011, many memories will be of the hard time I spent in potty time -- "tile time" as my good friend Jill calls it.  Call it what you will, it's hard and it's not fun.  Don't get me wrong, I know it's time well spent; the last thing I want to be is the mom of triplets who go to college in diapers but really, since that's unlikely (both the diaper part and the ability to pay for college!), I can't help but lament the hours I've spent in bathrooms this summer. 

I've spent so much time in our bathrooms at home (no, we don't have three of them, only 1.5!) that I think there's now a dent in the "big potty" seats I've spent hours perched upon.  I've spent so much time in restaurant bathrooms, that I think I've lost a few pounds  -- admittedly, this is the potential upside to being held hostage in a public bathroom by three two-year tyrants waving their willies everywhere but IN the actual potty!  I've spent many a sunny afternoon in the bat-cave like bathrooms you're prone to find at pools and beaches; again, eager to find the bright side (in this case, literally) I suppose I should be grateful for less of those damaging rays and subsequent wrinkles.  I've also spent a fair amount of time in the bathroom at church which, on the one hand, gives new meaning to "praying to the porcelain God" but, hasn't done much for my spirituality... other than, of course, repeated prayers that Kevin, Declan and Cormac finally get the swing of it (for lack of a better term!) so we can put these potty-training days behind us.

Truthfully, it's getting old.  And I'm out of PullUps.  And I'm loathe to buy more.  My little guys really seem to be getting it.  Or so it seems until I find a turd on a chair (as I did during dinner one night this week) or sail across their bedroom on a pool of pee on the floor (as I did this evening).  One step forward, two steps back.  I suppose that's how it goes.  Try, try again.  As much as I want this phase to be behind me, I also have a keen appreciation for the fact that when it's gone, it's gone.  Much like the bottles and onesies and highchairs, diapers and pull-ups will soon be gone.  Already, my sweet babes look like big boys as their shorts sag behind them in the space the diapers once filled but "training pants" don't.  By the way, has anyone else experienced these training pants?  If not, don't bother -- if they worked, I wouldn't have experienced a Slip n' Slide of pee earlier tonight!

In any case, I know that this too shall pass. And when it does, I will be proud of my guys for figuring it out.  And I will be glad that my house no longer smells like a urinal. And I will be just a little sad about those saggy shorts for I know they represent the next phase and I'm not 100% convinced that I'm ready for my babies to become "big boys".