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It’s a snow day and all three are home. It’s just past noon and I’m so sweaty you would think I ran a marathon. I’m able to write because it’s nap time. Coordinating nap time so that they’re all napping at the same time is critical to survival. So it all depends on A3. I tire them all out and the second A3 falls asleep…Sound the alarms! Gather the troups! It’s nap time!

I can hear A2 talking in her crib. She’s all equiped, milk bottle, pacifier, teddy and blanky. It’s up to her what she does for the next hour as long as she’s in her crib. It doesn’t matter if she cries…you have to show them who’s boss. Unless they’ve taken a massive s*%$t or that they’re legs are so far out of the rails that their thighs are stuck. These are the two deal brakers. She already did the first one, so we should be good. 

Now don’t get me wrong I’m not for letting babies cry. Old wives tales say to let the baby cry so that they don’t turn out to be spoiled… Between the ages of 0 and 3 months it is very important to answer to baby’s cries. Not only that, but to hold them and show them affection as much as you can. You are building their confidence at this point.

Ah! I can hear A3. Gotta go.

I’m not on the pump tonight, yet I still only have one hand free.

A3 (3 months old) has developed this bad habit of only falling asleep while holding my hand. Ahh cute some might think, yes it’s cute until their little chicken finger nails sink into your skin. I don’t know how their nails get long so fast. Mind you, it’s hard to keep track of 60 finger and toe nails.  Try clipping the nails of a wiggling toddler.  You have to put them on your lap, squeeze them between your  elbows so they stop jiggling,  hold their head down with your neck to avoid violent headbutts in the face,  start singing songs to distract them, then it’s “look over there! A rabbit” they don’t care “look it’s Santa”, still don’t care so you’ve got to take the big guns out “Look! It’s the wolf!”  all the while you can’t even point because you have the clipper in one hand, you’re holding their hand with the other and you’re waiting for the slightest moment of stillness to clip a piece off. The wolf always works, but you can’t help but feel bad for scarring them. If you think about it it’s pretty bad, “the wolf” is here … in your house.  The wolf that blows down houses and devours little girls and their grandmas.

One evening when we were driving home, A1 was looking out the window and asked “Are there wolves in our country? “ I started to explain how they live in the forest away from urban life… Jack stopped me by putting his arm in front me, just like when you suddenly break and put your arm in front of the passenger, and  said “Yes, but Daddy will protect you from them” and he turned to me with a one eyebrow up look.

One night A1 had a nightmare, when I asked her what she saw, she explained that in her dream the flowers of the forest were suddenly turning black and wilting because the wolf was coming. Scary stuff…   A2 has bad dreams too, just this week she yelled out “No, No, No, No!” in her sleep. Maybe she was dreaming of the breast pump! (Dear readers, our first official inside joke!  If you don’t get it read the previous post) When it happens we can’t help but run into their rooms to comfort them.

A lot of sleep talking happens in this house. I’ve done my share too. Just a few months ago in my last weeks of pregnancy I yelled out “À l’aide !” in my sleep. I was dreaming that I was having the baby in a Tim Horton’s. That same week, in the middle of the night we heard A1 scream, not just any scream, the most horrific scream. I jumped out of bed and ran to her room with hundreds of hideous thoughts running through my head. I got there she was crying, I took her in my arms. She had had a bad dream but couldn’t remember it. Her scream had scared me so much that I was still shaking from it and my heart was racing. About 5 seconds later Jack comes running in. “What’s happening?! I don’t know what happened, I was in the closet!” A1’s scream was so loud that it had startled him out of bed, semi-conscious. He opened the first door he saw to run towards his daughter’s rescue. Instead he ended up in the closet.

So when the big bad wolf comes huffin’ and puffin’, we’ll know where to find our wolf slayer… the closet.

Me:  Jack! Do we have duck tape or something ?

Jack:  Ya why?

Me:  I’m tired of holding the breast pump. Do something!

And here I am writing this post with two free hands!

The noise the pump makes is so loud I can’t even think straight and I thought I could use the time on the pump to write my blog. There’s nothing you can really do while on the pump. You can’t watch TV or be on the phone because you won’t hear anything.  You have to sit near a plug far enough from the kids’ rooms so the noise doesn’t bother them but close enough so you can hear them if they cry. I rarely have free time and this is how I spend it. No, this can’t qualify as free time. Actual free time is a rarity. It sometimes happens that I have a few minutes to myself if the kids’ naps overlap each other. Then I’m torn between eating, sleeping or taking a shower. I usually opt for sleeping. Most times the shower is not even an option because you can’t hear them when you’re in there so I usually shower in the middle of the night, after or before one of the their feedings. That’s my favorite thinking spot. I was telling this recently to a fellow blogger when she asked her readers where they’re favorite thinking spot was. I told her mine was the shower because the foggy glass door is perfect to write my ideas down in point form, to make charts and especially to do manual calculations. If it happens during the day that I need to take time to think about something I just leave it for the shower. Sometimes shower time never comes but that’s another topic for another day.

Wow the noise is really unbearable… during the day when I’m on the pump A1 comes to me with all her questions that I can’t hear because of the noise it makes…A2 is afraid of the vacuum cleaner and the breast pump again because of the noise. Last week A2 would stay across the room if I had the pump, this week she’s worked up the courage to wobble on over in her little dress and hit the pump while yelling “No! No! No! No!” In her eyes the pump is probably something that’s attacking me and she’s trying to save me from it. This week A2 wore a different dress every day to daycare. It’s because I’m so far behind in the laundry that all she has are the fancy dresses hanging in the closet.

The problem is not doing the laundry, it’s sorting it between what A1 wears, what’s too small for A1 but too big for A2, what A2 wears, what’s too small for A2 but too big for A3, what A3 wears then finally what’s too small for A3 that I debate whether I should give away or keep just in case I have another daughter one day. Yeah, it’s pretty complicated. There are boxes everywhere marked with ages and seasons on them, all diaper boxes of course… Diaper boxes are used to store everything in this house and they’re also used as laundry baskets because the real baskets are obviously full.

My own wardrobe is almost as complicated. There are the clothes I wear now, the clothes I used to fit in before I got pregnant the last time and hoping to get back into soon, the clothes from before I ever got pregnant that I keep to torture myself and finally, I have the maternity wear that I debate whether I should give away or keep just in case I have another baby one day.

Now that’s a scary thought…or is it?

So the last post didn’t mention poop, diapers or babies.  I don’t plan what I’m going to write, I just write. Parenthood is relatively new to me, I’ve only been a parent for 4 years, but I’ve been a worker, a student, a friend, a girlfriend, a daughter… for much longer. So I might talk about other things once in a while.

And to tell you the truth, it helps to remind yourself that yes although you are a parent; it is not all you are.  It’s ok to let loose, go out or even party sometimes. I know firsthand that it’s hard. I’ll be out and constantly checking my phone for news from the kids or find myself staring at the background image of my phone, which is a picture of my kids (of course). Well I have A1 and A2 on my phone and Jack has A3. It’s impossible to get them all in one picture considering A2 is obsessed with trying to touch A3’s eye ball.

You see how the subject always drifts to the kids?!

What was I saying? Oh ya. Going out is also hard because of the price you pay. I’m not talking about money… there are consequences to going out, so it really has to be worth it. Let’s say you go out, have a good time, come home late.

 6 am, you know it! Kids are up.

Although they don’t have a snooze button on the back of their heads, we’ve figured out a few ways to try and squeeze out 25 to 30 minutes of sleep for us, once they’re up. First person I need to take care of is A1 (4 yrs old), she’s up first.  So we’ll plan it the night before and she’ll play in her room till mommy and daddy are up. Hold on, it’s not THAT easy. You’ve got to come up with good new game ideas so that they don’t get bored too quickly. For example, the night before, I’ll bring out the big tub of stuffed animals, set up a desk and chair for her in her room and tell her she can play class when she wakes up (pretending she’s the teacher and the stuffed animals are students).  I must admit, it sometimes backfires because she’s so excited to play that she’ll wake up even earlier.

What I do with A2 (1.5 yrs old), is place books in her crib while she’s sleeping so that she can play with them when she wakes up and not call for us right away.

This usually keeps them busy for 20 minutes, after that we move to the next phase.

 We have a basket of toys that we keep in our room (fun knickknacks, mc Donald kids meal toys, etc.). See, this basket is usually hidden and is only taken out weekend mornings for them to play with, in our bed. Since they don’t have access to these toys often, it keeps them interested for a longer period of time.  The fresher the toys are the longer they play and the more we sleep.
All is good until they take out the big guns “We’re hungry!” Then we have to get up.
Basically what I’m trying to say is, it’s normal to not be sliding down the banister with the children fully dressed first thing in the morning.*

And if  you do not have kids, cherish that snooze button and don’t take it for granted.

P.S The sliding down the banister is a Marry Poppins reference. I’m sure Jack didn’t get it either. I tried to find a video of it to post but couldn’t come up with anything. So here’s a pic.

Mary Poppins sliding down the banister with the children fully clothed and ready to go, first thing in the morning.

I’ve been sick for the past couple of days. I must’ve caught something from the kids. Normally, when you are sick, you stay in bed or take some time off. Well there’s nothing of the sort for me. I thought yesterday would never end; I was nauseous and dizzy while A2 was hanging from my neck like a monkey the whole evening.

They warn you about pregnancy’s morning sickness but nobody tells you how much you’ll really be throwing up once you become a mom. From pregnancy to day care germs, you’re bound to find yourself face to face with the inside of that toilet quite a few times.

If you think that’s disgusting, let me mention the horrible feeling of the toilet water splashing upwards onto your cheeks…or even worse into your open mouth. Now imagine all this in a public bathroom.

Been there… and the memory is still so vivid.

Mommy throwing up is not a big deal in this house anymore. I threw up for the first six months of all my pregnancies. Basically I’ve been crouched over the toilet for the past three years. I’ve even spent nights on the bathroom carpet.

I suggest planning ahead and investing in a really fluffy bathroom rug before starting a family. It will offer proper cushioning for your knees not only while you hurl but also while you bathe the children kneeled by the bathtub. It can later offer you comfortable seating when your child is sitting on the potty asking you to hold their hand while they push for #2.

Four months into my third pregnancy, A2 could answer to “What sound does mommy make throwing up?” before she could even answer to “what sound does a dog make”.

I can remember a time when it was a big deal.  When I would get sick during my first pregnancy, Jack would hold my hair and hold a damp towel to my forehead. Things changed with the second pregnancy, he would still come into the bathroom to check on me and ask if I needed anything. Third time around… he abruptly opened the bathroom door and complained about how I was going to wake the kids with all the noise I was making!

Poor Jack, I make him sound so heartless.

P.S He’s not heartless. He’s awesome.

P.P.S My mother in law reads my blog. 🙂

Ok Kids! Time for bed, it’s already 8:30 !

It’s actually 7 pm but they’re too young to read time and I’m really tired.

So for those who don’t know, I’m a mother of three girls. Let’s call them A1, A2 and A3. All their names start with A and end with A. We thought it was cute to name them in a common theme with similar sounding names. We were so wrong …it causes such confusion!

I’ll correct that and say I was so wrong to do that.  I can already hear Jack “It was your idea! I told you so…” blablabla.

Saturday night was our 5^th wedding anniversary. We made plans to go out and it’s a big deal because his idea of romance is “I’m missing the hockey game for you!” We went out for a romantic dinner in a great spot. Turns out home team lost pretty badly that night. It took a little cheering up and the atmosphere turned out to be  great, alcohol and love were in the air and Jack seemed to be doing alright. During dinner, someone wearing the opposite team’s jersey walked by.( I have to add that there was a smart-casual dress code in effect). Seeing Jack’s face change I decided to be a supporting wife and I murmured a low but definitely distinct “booooooooooo!” as he walked past me on his way to the bathroom. Then, on his way back  I gave him a clear salt shaker motion two thumbs down and a louder “BOOOOOO!” … a few words were exchanged between Jack and the guy and we found ourselves a hair away from a fist fight.

The next day I made an effort to dress the kids in home team jerseys to support daddy.

See, you don’t need to know much about hockey to be a good hockey wife.