ChezPerky

All of my kids love to get smooches these days, and they are so fun to love.  They are huggable and snuggable and kissable and lovable.  They are perfect little angels (um, most of the time). 

Julian gives lots of hugs and kisses and will even just randomly say "Eema?  I love you so much!"  He is so loving and kind.  He never hesitates to stop and give big bear hugs to the people he loves, and he hasn't yet gotten to an age where giving mommy a kiss is icky (though he won't share a plate with me, because he might get my "cuties" if he does!) 

Abby loves to be held and will giggle if you give her kisses.  Occasionally, she'll turn her cheek toward you if she realizes you're trying to give her a kiss.  She gets extremely excited when either Seth or I walk into a room, and she'll come bounding over to be picked right up.  Alternatively, she'll lift up her shirt to expose her little belly to be tickled and then she'll giggle wildly when you do tickle her.  If you don't oblige her in the tickle-fest, she gets quite upset.  She's the most prone to sudden bouts of anger and a temper tantrum, but also easily consoled, because you can swiftly pick her up, give her some kisses and she's off and giggling again. 

Sam is my mama's boy, and a real snuggle-bunny.  If he sees me walk into the room, nothing can stop him.  He will be on a mission to get across the room to get to Mommy!  He'll come running over, arms wide, ready to be scooped up into the air.  His belly-laugh makes my heart skip a beat, and his smile could light up a whole city.  He takes longer to warm up to other people than the girls do, and he is more likely to run to me if there are other people around than he is likely to run to them, but he does eventually warm up to people without too much of a problem.  He's a sweet thing.  When I ask him for kisses, he puts his forehead toward me to get a kiss – proof that he does understand some things!

Yeah, I know I already had a picture of Ellie, but I'll be honest, I couldn't pick one.  This picture is the "after" picture, so to speak.  This is what happens to her hair after a nap, if it's been up in a ponytail like in the previous picture!  Ellie has really caught on to the whole smoochapalooza idea.  Yesterday, I gave Ellie a kiss and she made a "mwah" sound while I was kissing her.  I thought it was a fluke, but I was delighted!  I said, "Will you give me a kiss, Ellie?" and she leaned over, puckered her little lips and gave me a kiss, complete with "mwah" sound.  And then she giggled, and so did I!  For half an hour, we played the smooches game and she giggled as we showed off her new trick to Abba when he came home.  And this new skill was not a fluke – she still does it today!  Hooray!

There's a whole lotta lovin' goin' on in Chez Perky!

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Check out that mug shot.  She looks so sweet and innocent, doesn't she?  She doesn't look like a criminal who can escape from a sophisticated prison.  But this adorable little girl… don't let her fool you, she's tricky.  She may be little.  She may be quiet.  She may be cute and cuddly.  But she is an escape artist.

I came home around lunchtime on April 3rd and SuperNanny told me that she wasn't able to let the triplets nap that morning because shortly after she had put them down for their nap, she heard Abby screaming bloody murder.  She went in and discovered that Abby had climbed out of her crib and was hanging on the outside of her crib absolutely terrified to let go, but unable to get back in. 

Gosh, and I had always thought Sam would be the first one out.

I immediately called my friend Michelle, mother extraordinaire to the "trio of terror" as she calls them – adorable triplets who will turn three this summer.  They're gorgeous and sweet, and just recently moved into "big kid beds" after having been in cribs with crib tents for a good long while. 

"Tell me everything there is to know about crib tents."
"They saved my life.  What do you need to know?"
"Are there different kinds?  What should I get? Etc?  I need to go buy one.  NOW.  Abby climbed out of her crib."
"I have one left. Come get it."
"You're an angel.  I'll bring the Starbucks."

Michelle warned me that eventually her kids learned how to unzipper the crib tents.  "But don't worry, it'll take a long time before Abby figures it out!"  It took Abby about three days.  I do not think that's what Michelle meant by "a long time."  Fortunately, Michelle also told me the solution to unzippering – safety-pinning it closed.

And so, this is what Abby's new prison cell crib looks like:

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So, we went to Target today.  All six of us.  Brilliant idea, right?  Ahem.

Most of you reading this don't know me in real life.  So most of you have never seen me out and about in the real world.  But those of you who have can vouch for the fact that I'm generally pretty put-together.  I'm not all harried and stressed out looking – most of the time.  My kids are usually very well behaved – all of them.  (In public, anyway)  I usually have a smile on my face when we're out in public, because, really?  What else can you do when you're getting all those stares than just plaster a smile on your face and accept that you're a bit of a freak show?

So *most* of the time, we get sweet comments, or just simple nods of acknowledgment at our notable family.  We get a lot of "God Bless You" comments.  We get a lot of people saying, "Oh my gosh, are they twins!?" and they nearly pass out when I say, "no, actually, they're triplets!"  We have many people who tell us how cute or beautiful the babies are, or how lucky we are (we know).  We get the occasional "You sure do have your hands full" comment or "Better you than me" comment (darned right!  I wouldn't trust you with my babies!).  I obviously get hundreds of "are they natural?" remarks.   This is one that every HOM mom needs to decide for herself how to answer.  I suggest having a catalogue of several stock answers to use depending on context and what kind of mood you're in – everything from the truth (either, "yes, they were spontaneous" – if that's the case for you, or "yes, we had some fertility assistance" – if that's the case) to humour ("well, they're not made of a space-age polymer, if that's what you mean") to evasion ("all babies are natural") to pointing out the etiquette error ("We prefer not to discuss the means we used to conceive our babies, just as I'm sure you'd prefer not to discuss your sex life with me").

Most of the time, people's comments do not bother me.  I know that – for the most part – people mean well and don't realize when they've overstepped a personal boundary.  Few people have encountered triplets in their lives.  Personally, before I became pregnant with triplets, I had never encountered a set of triplets, though I now know about 50 sets of triplets.  So it's not surprising that sometimes people don't know how to respond appropriately when they see triplets gallavanting around in public.  We do create quite a spectacle, especially when you add in the fact that we have a fourth child as well.  And let's face it, our kids are so freakin' cute that it's hard not to notice them.  I understand this, and I understand we have a certain obligation to our adoring public. 

So there we are in Target, minding our own business.  We've already gotten a few nods and smiles and "Oh my's" as we've made our way about 50 feet into the store.  I was pushing the double stroller with the girls strapped in and I was wearing Sam in the mei tai.  J was walking next to me and Seth was pushing the cart in front of us.  J was distracted by the gift wrap aisle all of a sudden because he noticed that one of the gift bags had a Transformer on it, so the triplets and I stopped to "ooh" and "aah" at it with him while Seth waited ahead of us.  I told J that a boy would be very lucky to receive a present in that gift bag, but we weren't going to buy it today.  We were in the aisle for about 15 seconds, before I turned to get back out of it. 

Standing behind me, obviously annoyed that we were blocking the aisle was a woman and her (presumably) husband probably in their late 50's or early 60's, blocking me in.  I excused myself and asked if we could get by so that we could let her get through.  No sooner was my back turned and I was probably no more than a foot away from her, did she turn to her husband and say, "Well that's just a few too many!"

Excuse me?  Huh Wha?    My four perfectly well behaved children were doing exactly what to grate on your nerves?  Because really, I woke up one morning and thought to myself, "Golly, I think I'd like to have an extremely high risk pregnancy and have three babies all at once just so that a year later I can annoy a lady in Target."  How dare she?  Couldn't she at least have waited until I was out of earshot?  Or at least until my five year old was out of earshot?  What a witch!

But all was not lost.  We got the things we went in for, and bless Target for having enormous elevators that can accommodate 2 adults, a five year old, a shopping cart, a double stroller, and another baby strapped to mama.  We got lots of smiles and coos and happy comments.  And on our way out, one woman with a single infant passed by me and said, "Congratulations!  It must be so hard for you!"  I smiled and said, "Oh no!  They are easy, and so much fun!"  And I meant it.

A few too many, indeed.

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Some time ago Bea, previously of Infertile Fantasies fame, wrote eloquently of wanting "credit for time served."  That is, we (infertiles, you know) spent so much time preparing for parenthood… we worked at it for so long, and yet when we finally get there, our friends who started on that journey after we did, yet reached the goal long ahead of us somehow manage to treat US like the "newbies" when we finally reach pregnancy and, finally, parenthood.  Finally we’re part of that exclusive club, and treated like we don’t know anything about what it’s like to be a parent though we’ve spent the last year, two years, five years working to get there and yet, we get no "credit for time served," do we? 

I admit Bea wrote far more eloquently on this topic, but that’s not my point.  My point is that Bea writing about this reminded me of a story.  My own desire for credit for time served. 

One day, when the triplets were, maybe four or five months old, Seth was out of town, I had recently returned to working full time, and I was dropping J off at school.  On my way back out of the school, I ran into an acquaintance of mine.   We’ll call her… "Sheila".  Sheila has two children, ages 6 and 4.  Her husband is one of the most laid-back, sweet guys I’ve ever met, but I admit, Sheila rubs me the wrong way nearly every time I encounter her, so I don’t want to bias you or anything, but hey, it’s MY blog, so I’ll cry if I want to.

Right.  Where was I?

Sheila walked in as I was walking out of the school and asked how I was doing. 

"Okay," I said, "A little tired."
"Oh well," she shrugged, "Welcome to Motherhood!"

I’m sorry, WHAT?  Did she seriously just tell me to suck it up?  Because that’s what it sounded like to me.  Now I recognize that all mothers are tired.  And I recognize that I’m not special or anythi- oh wait, I am special, but that’s another story. 

Now, really, she might have been doing this motherhood thing for a while, but, um, first of all when was the last time that Sheila spent the night up with not one, not two, but THREE babies?  Second of all, "welcome to motherhood?"  WHAT?  Like this was something new to me?  What about the last four years that I’ve been a mother to J?  Do I get no credit for that?  And nevermind Bea’s point, the credit for time served.   How about the five years I spent working to get to this point of motherhood?  It’s not like I was just dropped in at this point with no warning, no forethought, no experience, planning, research, consideration. 

Do I get no credit whatsoever?  None? 

And seriously?  Every single time I’ve seen Sheila since she’s made some patronizing remark about my parenting, and I’m really geting tired of it.  Hello?  I have four kids.  FOUR.  And three of them are under a year old.  And I’ve been parenting almost as long as her and actively working to become a parent for as long as I’ve known her.  Credit for time served, indeed.    

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I have the utmost respect for single parents.  I know I don’t have it in me to be a single parent.  Not even remotely.  That being said, Seth left for Pittsburgh yesterday for a two day conference.  He’ll be back late Tuesday night leaving me with three dinner times, three bed times, and two morning wake up routines all to myself.  Yay me.  Yes, I am superwoman, thank you for asking.  I need a cape.  Though a sidekick would be more useful, don’t you think?

Of course, not five minutes after Seth left, one of the cats threw up on the stairs.  It’s like they were mocking me.  One of my rules is that Seth is 100% responsible for any bodily fluids which come out of the cats.  I am not a pet person.  I don’t like being responsible for animals.  I would rather be pet-free (and thereby dander-free) than deal with puke, pee, poop, etc.  If I wanted to deal with bodily fluids, I would have had kids.  Oh, wait… I did that.

This morning started at 4:30 with an exploding diaper from Sam who then frantically nursed for an hour.  Then J threw up on the stairs on his way down to get his patch put on for the morning.  Also, he was bouncing off the walls all farkin’ morning.  It was a good morning.  I expect tonight to be more of the same.  Good times all around.

I don’t mind the single-parenting gig, actually.  I love my kids.  What I hate is the feeling of being trapped.  What if I needed to go out?  I can’t.  With four sleeping children, I’m stranded.  How do single parents handle this?  I leave in the morning, drop J at school, go to work, dash out of work, pick J up, run home, meet the nanny to relieve her, get everyone fed, into bed, get J fed, into bed, and then I’m stranded.  There’s no time for an extra errand, like if I had to stop at the pharmacy or grocery store or pick up the dry cleaning or whatever.  How would I do that if Seth weren’t coming home Tuesday night?  I guess I’d get a babysitter, but if I were a single parent with four young kids, how would I afford that?  Did I mention that I have the utmost respect for single parents?  I don’t know how you guys (and gals) do it! 

Did I mention Ellie’s teething? 

How many hours left until Seth comes home?

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Last Wednesday, we rushed home from work, fed the babies an hour early, changed them into PJs and … packed them up and took them off to the NICU.  Weird, I know, but not to worry, they weren’t sick.  We were there for a "NICU Social" for current NICU parents and NICU "Graduates".  We were invited back by the new NICU Social Worker, and though I’d debated whether it was wise to go to an event from 5:30-7:30pm (the babies’ bedtime is 6:30/7pmish), we decided that it was worth a try. 

The babies did really, really well.  We arrived early and went up to the NICU to show the babies off and they got oogled at before we went down to the conference room where the social was being held.  There were a lot of families there, including about 5 current NICU families and maybe a dozen NICU "Graduate" families.  We were the only triplets, there were a set of twins, and the rest were singletons.  I think the gestational ages ranged from 25 weeks to 35 weeks.  The graduates ranged from a couple months old to 3 years old, so we were by no means the youngest ones there. 

There were a lot of NICU nurses that came down to spend some time with all the yummy babies, and they were so impressed with the triplets  and how well they’re doing.  The babies spent their time crawling all over the tables and showing off all their tricks.  When Sam got fussy, I nursed him and Seth held the girls who both fell asleep in his lap.  If I hadn’t been nursing Sam at the time, I would have taken a picture, because it was truly precious.

All in all, it was a wonderful opportunity to talk to some current NICU parents and tell that that there IS life on the other side, to talk to a set of new twin parents and let them know that life DOES get easier, and to show off our beautiful, thriving, and healthy babies.  I’m so proud of how far we’ve come.  We also got an opportunity to make suggestions for future outreach opportunities, for how the NICU staff can approach parents in the future to better serve them, and also to volunteer for planning committees for outreach programs in the future.  I was so pleased to be at this event.  The nurse educator who was there now knows that I’m on the board of the local Parents of Multiples Club and that she can direct any twin/triplet/quad parents in the NICU to me for support/help/questions, and she knows that I want to be involved with additional outreach projects in the future.  All in all, it was a good night.

But the next day… I got a call.

My nanny called me and said, "I think Abby has chicken pox."

"What?  Wait, Wha!!?"
"I think Abby has Chicken Pox"
"Chicken Pox?"
"Yes, I think she has Chicken Pox."

Now, you may not remember, but this is decidedly not good.  Because I am not immune to chicken pox.  I have had chicken pox twice, I have had the chicken pox vaccine twice, I am still not immune to chicken pox.  How do I know?   Because Ye Old Fertility Clinic drew a Varicella Titer as part of my Infectious Disease bloodwork way back before dinosaurs walked the earth and made me sign a big gigantic waiver in order to proceed with treatment.  I promised never to sue them if I got pregnant and ended up with chicken pox while pregnant.  I figured the odds of getting pregnant were pretty slim and the odds of getting chicken pox were pretty slim, so the odds of both happening at once were really tiny, so I was pretty safe in signing that waiver.  As it turned out, I did get pregnant (twice, though as we know, one of those times didn’t work out), but nevertheless, I did not get chicken pox, so my bet still paid off in the end.

I.  Freaked.  Out. 

Not only was I worried for me, but I was worried about all the babies we’d exposed the night before and the parents of babies in the NICU and…  Oh boy.  I know I couldn’t have known, but sheesh, this was decidedly NOT GOOD.

I rushed home, took a look, and breathed a sigh of relief.   Though my beautiful baby girl was clearly unhappy, running a fever, and out of sorts, she did NOT have chicken pox!  She very definitely had Hand Foot Mouth Disease!  And I knew *just* where it had come from.  A week and a half earlier, we had visited Jess, Jon and their Five Little Monkeys, and the next day, Jess told me that she was really sorry, but her five little monkeys had the coxsackie virus!  Whoops!  We thought we were in the clear, since none of our kiddos had turned up with it by then, but I guess not.  A pediatrician friend of mine down the street came up to confirm the diagnosis and after she did, I called my pediatrician just to let him know and make sure that he didn’t want to see it for himself.  He gave me the run down, told me to expect 2-4 days of misery, and told me to treat the symptoms (e.g. fever) as best I could, but otherwise said to hang in there as the others got it, whcih they likely would. 

Poor Abby had a fever all the way until Sunday!  Poor baby!  😦  But, fortunately, none of the other babies managed to get her virus.  Amazing!  I did have to talk to the NICU social worker to give her a heads up about the virus, but at least I didn’t have to tell her that there was a chicken pox scare… that would have been MUCH worse!  But life is good again, and everyone is healthy.    Hooray.   

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