Triplets

All the time. Every day. Usually several times a day...people ask if our kids are triplets.
Maybe I am being too technical. I don't know. I just know that to call them triplets makes me feel like we are dismissing our baby girl, Addy. I don't want to do that.
When they were babies, I tried to get out of saying "yes, they are triplets" by dodging the question. I would quick ask the asker a question instead.
How old are YOUR kids? What were their names? Or I'd make a comment about the weather. Or the cracks in the sidewalk. Anything.
Once, I remember some guy asked if the kids were triplets, and I answered, "Not really," and kept walking. Away. He yelled after me, "Um, you can't NOT REALLY have triplets. They are, or they aren't!" So, I turned, glared, and replied, "They are not triplets. They are quadruplets. But since one of our kids died, I don't like to have to explain that to every person I meet." He quickly shut up, and mumbled an apology.

It is a conundrum. I can say, "No, they are not triplets" and feel bad that I have to explain our losing Adeline to someone who just wants a happy answer. Or I can say, "Yes, they are", and feel horrible for dismissing our daughter.
My solution (not necessarily a good one, but a solution none-the-less) is this:
Curious Stranger: "Are they triplets?"
Me: "They are all three years old" (or "They are all the same age").
The person ends up looking confused, but asks no more questions. Usually.

Today, someone asked the all-too-common question, and B piped up, (with way too much delight), "Yup, we are TRIPLETS!"
And something inside of me cringed. And I wanted to cry. And I couldn't smile at the guy who was saying something about how full my hands must be.

I could teach my kids (and have tried....to no avail) that they are quadruplets, but that people assume they are triplets, because they don't know Adeline. But is that really fair for them to have to explain to everyone anyway? And do people want to hear that from a three-year-old?
I am at a loss as to what to do with that question....especially now that the kids can answer for themselves....and they have been taught by everyone else that "Yes, we are indeed triplets! Look at us! Aren't we cute!!?"

Eh, heck. Maybe I need to just suck it up and get over it, but it doesn't necesarrilly seem that easy.

Ode to Mwankies

We had a nurse once. A neonatal nurse. She was cute. And nice.
She prayed for our kids (more than we had the energy to sometimes)....and she encouraged us with good news (when there was some).
When there was bad news, she broke it to us gently.

She patiently gave B, who really just wanted to be left alone, his space.

Z was spoiled rotten most nights. He cried when she was around, because he knew she was his girl!
"His Jane", we used to call her.

She gave them their 1st book. One that declares how they are specially and wonderfully made.

She and her husband were the first people we trusted to watch them for a weekend away.

She came along on their first camping trip.

And she gave them their life-long comforts.....their blankies, or what the kids have lovingly deemed their "Mwankies".

Almost four years later, they still WILL NOT sleep until their Mwankies are safe in their beds with them.

Thanks again, Teresa.

We love you tons.

Assertive

I once was worried that Z was too nice, and not assertive enough.
When he was younger, he would let other kids take his toys. A shrug and a blink, and he was off to get another toy.
If someone was crying because they dropped their ice cream on the floor, Z would give them his.
Tonight, when there was one piece of pizza left, he eyed it for a second, and then asked, "Mama, do you want that pizza?"
I told him I didn't.
He then said, "Can I have it?" What three-year-old thinks of his mom (or anyone but himself) first when it comes to toys or food?

So, I worried that he might be too nice. That he might get taken advantage of.
Today, he showed me otherwise:

B hit and kicked him.
After being sent to his room to think of a better ways to handle his frustration,
B finally came out, gave Z a hug, and said, "I am sorry for hitting you."
B started to walk away.
Z didn't let him go that easily, "What about you are sorry for kicking me?"
B muttered another "Sorry" over his shoulder as he walked away.
Z pointed to the ground in front of him, and demanded, "Come over here and say it."

Well. OK. I would say we have no reason to worry then.

Questions and Three-Year-Old Answers

We bought the Table Topics Question Box for Families. Here are some of the questions (and answers) so far:

What would you like to be when you grow up?
Z: A lion
B: A bear, so I can bite Z, cuz he will be a lion

Where would you like to work when you grow up?
B: I want to work in a church, like Papa.
Z: In the city, in the shiny building!
Mama: What would you like to do in the shiny building (assuming that he’s already aspiring to be a big, city guy…)?
Z: I will clean the floors with my brush.
Mama: Oh, right.

What is the nicest thing you’ve ever done for someone?
S: Let them in my room. (Shows where three-year olds' priorities are…)

What would you want to eat at your ultimate birthday party?
S: Gingerbread, but sugar is my best food.
B: Raisin Bran
Z: Cereal with milk in it, mom!
(Do we need to get out more?)

Nursery

Last week, B whined and cried and yelled at me the whole time I was teaching the preschool class at "Kid's Klub".
I told him he would need to go to nursery the next time.

He was careful to listen and ask nicely for things all week. He said "please" alot.
He informed me that he was behaving. As in "Mama, I am being hayve."
Always followed by, "So I don't have to be in nursery at church."

Since I knew he remembered, I had to follow through.

One week later, when the other kids went to class, B kicked and screamed as I pulled him to nursery and quickly slid out of the inward-locking nursery door.

I felt so bad.

But I was glad that he would learn about consequences.

After class, I went to get him, waiting to hear all kinds of "I'm sorry" and "I want to come to class next time".

Instead, the boy was beaming:

"We played out on the playground. I got to eat a Twinkie!"

S was suddenly sobbing, "I want to go to nursery next time, Mama! I don't want to go to class!"

Choking Hazard

Our church joined with another church to do Wednesday Night "Kid's Klub".
The preschool group heard about the son who ran away, ate pig slop, and wasted all his money. He then came back to say he was sorry. The only interesting part for kids is the pig slop and the party that was thrown at his return.

I decided we should have our own little party, so I bought gift bags for each kid.

I filled it with (make sure you read this, because there will be a quiz at the end. Seriously):
2-3 Tootsie Rolls
2 Animal Capsules (the little pill-shaped things that turn into big animals when you put them in water.
1 box of Candy Dots
2 Suckers
1 Cars Marker and Stamper

Here is your quiz:
What is wrong with the list of above objects? Anyone?

Here is one of those instances when I think I need Ritalin or I wonder if I am slightly mentally-impaired....

We are getting out of the car, and K holds the two "pills" (aka animal capsules) in his hand, and says, "If you take the red one, you see how far this rabbit hole really goes....If you take the blue one, you will wake up and it will be like nothing ever happened." (a quote from his favorite movie, The Matrix)

That made us think, "Shit! I just put two, small, swallowable capsules into a bag filled with mostly candy. How many kids are going to think that those "pills" are candy, swallow them, and grow a sponge animal in their stomachs?"

And then we said shit again.

I ended up calling all of the preschool parents to say, "Um, yeah...so your kid's teacher is a little mentally deficient, but um....just wanted to warn you about the choking hazards I gave to your kid tonight. Ok, um, bye. Thanks."

So, did ALL Of you catch the problem? Am I the only one that does stupid crap like this?