Thursday, July 18, 2013

Three


Let's all pause for a deep, cleansing breath.

Peaceful, sleeping babies in...
Screaming, plate-throwing banshees out...


We are deep in the trenches of life with three. You shouldn't be surprised when I openly admit it ain't always pretty, no sir.

There are the treasured moments like right now, when all three kids are curled up in the living room with me as their dad toils away on the lawn mower.

Owen wrapped up in his precious blanket on the couch, Nora snoozing in her swing, and Nathan snuggling on the couch with me as I slowly sip a mug of cucumber water and page though a Better Homes and Garden. The floors are recently cleared of toys, debris, and Sun Chips and the sink full of stinky formula bottles has been drained. Ahhh...

It's 8:30 pm and hallelujah. Although this doesn't mean sleep for me, two of the troops are going down soon and it'll be us against one six-pound kid from dusk 'til dawn. Easy stuff. Extremely tiring stuff, but easy nonetheless.

Once the sun breaks through the trees in that glorious fashion I described the other day, two little blond boys will wake up. They will join her side, outnumber our side, and the battle will be on.


There will be post-breakfast wrestling in the boys' room to the tune of yelling, giggling, and inevitable crying. Nothing will sound good for lunch and my knuckles will whiten as I ask the question over and over again until we head to McDonald's. Nora will be involved in a squabble over whose blanket is whose and I silently pray she grows up as tough as she is cute.

Then there's screaming, you know, because it's fun. Screaming with Ninja Turtle toys. Screaming as they throw a ball back and forth. Screaming at each other as loud as possible and then erupting in laughter because it is so darn funny.

Hilarious, I tell you.

It's strange. When you try to correct screaming without doing so yourself, it doesn't seem nearly as effective. Somebody needs to work on that.

Sometimes (i.e. today), things get gross quickly:

"Owen stuck his hand in my pee and won't wash it off!"

Why would he? I don't even. *shudder*

However, paired with the stress are the bright spots. Quiet, peaceful moments that make me not mind the 37th time I get Owen a cup of milk or the 94th time I tell Nathan he can't have Cheetos.

On sunny afternoons when I've had just about enough, I sit in the recliner, eyes closed and arms around my daughter. Suddenly, I feel a presence. Those two blond streaks who just tore through my kitchen are standing as close as possible, 100% enamored.

Nathan's hand brushes Nora's fuzzy head as he talks to her in a soft voice. "Hi Nora! Your brother's here. I love you so much, little baby girl." Owen leans in for a closer look and mimics every squeak and coo. Nathan asks to hold her and Owen scrambles onto the couch beside him. 

Before too long, first-grade will arrive. I'll head back to the office and hand my babies over to their sitters (Wait, that's far, far into the future. Right?!)

Until then, I will count to ten, hold my breath, and do what I can to remember that these days will go by in a blink.

And all I want is to enjoy them.

(Except for that whole pee thing. Ick!)

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