Boy meets blog

I had a moment of stunned silence the other day.  Hayden came running into my room, and was crying.  I was initially worried that something was wrong, as he is not a cryer.  He came up to me, and hugged me and said thank you.  I was a bit blown away because I could not think immediately think what/why he was thanking me – and so I asked what was going on.  Here is how the story goes –

“Mum, I was googling Google images of Hayden Moloney and I found this place called Moloney Mayhem.  And I didn’t know you did that.  And I read the one that came up about me and I did not know that you thought I was so brave, or that you were saying that stuff last year about my last day at school (post here) or about how I am a good big brother.  I thought that it was just like normal to have a brain library, or to do some of the stuff we do as a family”.  “I think it is so cool that you do it Mummy, and I am going to read it all now”.

I was gob smacked.  Here is my 7 year old, googling himself (a milestone/occurrence I was not ready for) that had found my blog, read a story about himself and been thankful about it.  We had a very lengthy discussion about how he feels about having his story out there and importantly pictures of himself.  He has no problem but I have reiterated that if he changes his mind, I will stop.  He loves this “Mayhem Thing”  and is taking great delight in reading things about our family.  He was so touched (for want of a better word) about my birthday post for him.  He liked how he was the first one to hear my heart beat from the inside, and loved the picture of us both minutes after his birth – because, and in his words, it was more than the picture mum, it was what you felt too (I think my heart melted at that moment).  All these stories he reckons, are made even cooler, because I have written them down.  “Mum, we won’t forget them now”.  Smart kid.

I actually started this blog to record my musings.  Mainly because I know how busy I am, but also because the convenience of a computer cannot be beat half the time.  I work a fair bit in front of a screen, so it is a relationship of convenience.  It has been already sentimental living and re-reading through the posts with Hayden again.  He has not read all of them, not by a long shot – but he has read some.  He particularly likes the fact that it was much easier for him to stop using a Dummy/Nukka Nukka then the trio; and that he is the big brother.  Now, I am even more compelled to keep writing.  Because, this, right now, is the every day.  And I know we will all forget the little things.

I think the goal posts are going to change constantly with this motherhood thing.  Particularly with the highly digital/social media age we live in.  Hayden does not spend hours in front of a screen, and what access he does have there is always Jason or myself around to supervise.  I want to make sure that what interaction he has online is safe.  And that is the uncontrollable part of the big wild world of internet.  So, right now, I am having to think about all the things he could see, and work around that.  Without blowing childhood innocence and curiosity.  A work in progress – for many years to come I am guessing.

And here is a random photo, of Hayden, being Hayden – an awesome big brother, and forever my little monkey biscuit.

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Currently Creative

I am smiling as I type these words as I now know how to crochet!  Basic stuff, small baby steps – but I CAN do it!  It has had me confused and confounded for a long time.  Thanks to a You Tube video I have mastered the Granny Square.  Now there was frustration, unraveling and lots of swear words.  And now, I hear the lady’s voice in my head when I crochet “put your yarn around your hook” over and over!  I have made quite a few granny squares now, and am currently working on a blanket.  Simple, just a never ending granny square –

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This is about 40cm x 40cm already.  It is far from perfect, but I am loving it.  I have also booked myself in for a few lessons to work my way around the foundation chain that I am struggling with!

Here are my first few granny’s 🙂

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I have been baking (as usual) and am really enjoying making bread and bread rolls again.  The kids love them!

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And finally, my other big love, Project Life.  I was stupidly behind and managed to catch up a great deal with the new PL App.  I got the pages printed at Persnickety Prints, they arrived this week and are amazing!

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So while I may have lots of works in progress, I am loving them all.  I am starting to plan my Christmas cards – and have just seen the gorgeous stamp set I will be using – you can see them here 🙂

Happy Wednesday!

My life’s {paid} work..

For much more than half my life, I have been a nurse.  I have worked through the night; been awake for days on end without sleep, worked shifts starting at 7 am, or 10pm, or 7pm or 3pm, and developed an immunity to the effects of caffeine (but still abuse the magical powers of coffee!!).

Being a nurse is as much a part of me as being mother is.  It is part of what makes me ‘me’.  I have witnessed some amazing events, some humbling ones, and some incredibly horrific ones.  I have laughed, I have cried, and have experienced just about everything else in between.

For as long as I can remember, all I ever wanted to ‘be’ was a nurse, and when I was about 7 or 8 my Dad got me an anatomy and physiology book on the heart.  I had in memorised in about a week and so began my love affair with how amazingly cool our bodies can be, with all the systems that work together and get the job done.  It also got me into my nerdy habits I am guessing, and I have been a booknerd for as long as I can remember.

When I first started nursing, I was in my teens.  Dad said ‘you have to start somewhere love’ and so my parents would drive me to a nursing home each weekend for a days work.  I did it for as long as I could – until sport got in the way and traveling for basketball games interstate were something I had to do instead.  I learned how to talk to people.  I mean really talk.  I learned how sometimes silence was also OK.  It was all scary at 14 to think about some of the things that I needed to do.  But somehow, my love for care, compassion, empathy and humanity won over.  I counted down the semesters at uni, and could not wait to be a registered nurse.  Six semesters and I was done.  Then it all began.  I lived and breathed nursing.

I found a new life that had so many aspects I did not even think would happen.  I had to work night duty on Friday and Saturday night, because I was the new nurse.  My friends were out and about, or going to the movies and I was at work, awake.  My friends (most of whom I still see and call my dearest friends now) adapted – thank goodness!  I even remember chucking my first ever sickie – from a phone booth a Toombul so I could go to the movies with my friends.  And they were in the phone booth snorting and laughing in the background.  Lucky my boss had no reason to doubt me!!

I learned that not everyone had the interest in the ‘things’ I had to do at work.  My definition of a shit day at work could literally be that. Seriously.  The things that could stop me from getting to my tea break – like someones heart stopping, or their breathing.  Or just that they needed me more than I needed my 10 minute break.

I grew to dread the witching hour.  3am.  The time when for no real reason other than just happenstance, people got sicker, or died.  Car accidents happened.  Drug overdoses happened.  Friday and Saturday nights were spent knowing that soon, there would be patient’s in the empty ICU beds because alcohol, drugs and driving did not mix.  My eyes were opened to the horrors of humanity – the hatred, the malice and the sheer malevolence of a terrorist attack.  I still get goosebumps when I think of the Bali 2012 Bombings.

At 19 I had seen death.  I had sat with death, nursed its next victim with dignity and respect.  Cried with the family.  Made sure that my patient’s face was clean and their hair was brushed the right way.  Fought death and lost more times than I can count – sometimes accepting that it was ok, and other times feeling incredibly ripped off – some deaths have no real meaning.  Thankfully, I have also witnessed miracles.  Patient’s who against all odds have survived.  Situations where you think there is no hope, and then there suddenly becomes a flicker.  And then the nurses get behind that flicker and soon enough it is a raging fire.

I can safely say that nursing is so embedded within me that I know exactly where on the Broslow scale my kids are, and find myself surveying and assessing almost every potential bad ending for ways to extricate said child/person, or how to treat until we get to hospital.  I also think I am a bit of a hard arse and a bandaid is all that is needed sometimes.  I mean, if it needs glue or stitches sure, but otherwise, you can stay at home kiddo!  I have performed CPR out of the hospital so many times – and so much that some people will never walk through the cereal aisle again without remembering the incident of the person who fell, split their head open after having a heart attack on the way down.  I know how to take charge of situations like this, because it is in every brain cell!  This I know.  How to apply makeup, not so much.

I work in a job where my uniform is either scrubs (which commonly get confused for pajamas) or pants and a shirt.  I have never had to think about what to wear for work or how to do my hair – as it has to be out of the way, and not just for infection control – but for my safety.  Let me tell you, a 120kg person who is off their head on drugs is pretty darn strong, and hair is easy to grab. And it hurts.  Like really hurts.  So, my wardrobe is limited.  I fret and worry about what to wear when I have to go to training days for work (and end up being the one wearing uniform, just in case I get called back to clinical!!) or even worse when I go out (and my friends can attest to the ‘what are you wearing messages’!).

I have a love for toilet humour, a knack for acronyms and a nose that is just about able to identify anything.  I have worked more Christmases than I have had off, and have learned that making the most of the time with my family on those special days is what matters. I have bought in the new year in the back of ambulances with lights and sirens, or just a ‘happy new year’ from the nurses I am working with in between doing our jobs.  I have left work late almost every single shift in my life because we cannot just clock off if there is no-one there to take over.  Or something happens.  Or another admission.  I am late home to my family because I have been looking after someone else’s family.  My kids are ok with this now, and ask every time – ‘did you make them better mummy?’.  They have the empathy bone.

I have had my nose broken by a patient, a couple of ribs here and there, been called some pretty choice names, and been abused for all sorts of things.  It’s not all rosy.  I have had to look after ‘that’ patient again because I am 6″2 and that sometimes makes patients rethink their abuse.  I have had blood filled syringes held at me, scalpels pointed at me, urine and faeces thrown in the general direction of me and been spat at.  It has its down sides this nursing thing.  I have been in the back of ambulances, choppers, planes and boats, all in the name of trying to get to someone or trying to get them somewhere to get them better.  And while this sounds fun, it is not always great traveling at warp speed trying to administer medication or blood when there is that thing called gravity.  Or batteries go flat.

I have seen the insides of our very being.  I have seen things that you cannot really see, but only feel.  I can tell you the exact moment someone has died, because something in the room shifts, and the smell of death is gone.  I have looked after people from all walks of life – from movie stars to politicians, to real people like you and I, to prisoners, murderers, and adulterers.  I have looked after brand new humans, tiny bundles of sweet smelling babyness, to children who have terrible illnesses that make me want to howl because life is so unfair.  I have often felt like I am in the middle of a Jerry Springer show when the mother is pushing out a baby to whom she is not sure which baby daddy is which.  There are things that are so incredibly unbelievable that you would not laugh me out of the room if I tried to tell you.  I have fought for my patients, for their rights, for things they cannot possibly understand sometimes, for their dignity and for their comfort.  And I do it every shift.

I love being a nurse.  I love all of it no matter how tiring it can be; because all of the good outweighs all of the bad.  No two shifts are ever the same, and that is both a good thing and a bad thing!  Nursing is a challenge.  A constant battle, with disease, and our own intricate balance required to keep us working properly.  Nothing beats winning!  Watching a wound that you once could fit your fist into heal, watching someone ‘wake up’ after being in an induced coma for a massive head injury to actually be able to recognise family.  Watching a baby take their first breath when things looked bad for a bit.  Being a part of someone’s last wishes, and respecting them.  Believing in yourself because your patients do, and they speak about you to their family and you get introduced as “that nurse who did….or that nurse who saved me…”.  The chocolates we get as thanks, the hugs from kids, the tears of joy from happy parents taking their child home.  All of it.  I would not change a thing.  Because no matter how bad some shifts can be, the good always wins.  And yeah, that sounds a bit Marvel/DC Good V. Evil, but that is the way of it, I choose to be a nurse.  Although, when I look at it, I think nursing chose me.

The things we do

In the name of motherhood, we do so many things!  Things that I am sure when I envisioned motherhood, I never thought I would be doing *so much* of.  The real, every day stuff.  Like constantly being called by four tiny humans.  Varying levels of “Mum/Mummy/Muuuuummmmmmy/MumMumMumMumMummy” at least 400 times a day.  Yep, in one day.  Idle thoughts like “Muuum, can I have an apple?’  “Mum, I can’t find _____”.  Most questions revolve around food, or equality (she has more, she hit me twice, he has my car, he tricked me).

Or when you got to a theme park or zoo and you see many like-minded and weary parental faces nodding, smiling and waiting.  There is always waiting.  Waiting in line.  Waiting for a show to start.  Waiting.  “Mummmee, how much longer?” is repeated as many times as the incessant “are we there yet” phrase that we all like to pull out a few hundred times on any trip.

You stand, holding a bunch of hats, contorting yourself so you don’t drop any, holding them all in one hand so you can smile and wave as your child/ren go past on the ride each time.  I think I look like a grinning idiot waving madly to make sure they see me and know they are ok.  But the fun they have makes up for it; even if it means they have five rides in a row.  And then they get a bit bigger.  And they don’t look for you like they used to and you find yourself waving harder so they do catch your eye.  Funny how you miss the little things like that.

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So much time – traveling to/from places.  Organising the extra things like swimming and dancing.  Usually 1/4 or sometimes 2/4 don’t want to go and have changed their mind because ____ is more fun.  Negotiating to get them all there.  Bargaining.  These kids are borderline terrorists with their demands!  Waiting for them to finish.  Waiting for them to start.  Using that waiting time to do some crochet.

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Brushing hair. There is a good hour every day between them all.

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Making/baking preparing food.  Add another couple of hours.  On a good day.  Home made cheese and bacon rolls are now a family favourite (recipe here).  And popcorn (just plain, popped in a saucepan with a dusting of icing sugar) is a big fave.  Apples, by the kilo every day, and at least 4, sometimes 8 bananas.  Then the yoghurt.  And milk, and bread!

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So add groceries to the list – and yes I know that it is only going to get worse.  I always seem to be filling the fruit bowl, topping up the cereals and flours.  Ongoing.  Never ending.

Then when they are sick.  The unspeakable things you have poked down a plug hole.  The offensive smell of bodily fluid that is all over you that you cannot care about because child 2 or 3 or 4 or even 1 needs you again to hold back their hair or just hug them.  The washing that everything needs after all of this; and washing it again because you either forgot to get it out in time and it got too hard, or you forgot that you forgot to rinse the bulk of the spew off of it.  The child freaking out because they are not her undies, but her sisters.  The way you know that Emma likes to be cuddled a lot, and Caitlyn carried like a baby no matter how big she is, Brendan likes to be sat on your lap any old way, and Hayden likes to still be held when he is sick.

The stern voice you have to ‘get’ right.  The voice of authority.  The voice that has to tell your kids off for doing any amount of things even when you really want to just laugh with them and not care that they drew on the walls for once.  When you have to be adult enough to not laugh at toilet humour when your kids are playing cupcake to unwilling participants.  But also the voice that protects them.  Keeps them in a row behind you and safe.

So many things that you don’t realise will take up the bulk of your day.  The impromptu singing and dancing to a new song on the radio – and their interpretation of the lyrics is always hilarious.  The cuddles.  The story telling.  The reasons why they cannot possibly eat any more dinner as they have ‘full tummies’ only to ask five minutes later for a yoghurt, or cheese, or an iceblock.  The way they refuse to smile in a photo that you want of all them, and instead poke out their tongue, look away from the camera, or just walk out of shot.

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The pretending to love Frozen just as much as they do.  Or dinosaurs.  Or both.  For the first time in forever I think Let it Go is out of my head to be replaced with another tune from the movie (pun intended).  Going to the movies means you are going to see something G rated and will likely say ‘sit down’ a hundred times; and surrender your popcorn because they will eat all of theirs before the ads are over.  Gone are the M+ movies that have a plot,  replaced by something animated, with merchandise and a soundtrack that will have you rocking and drooling like a post op lobotomy patient, and broke from getting it all four times.

Or having to speak fluent Minecraft.  Knowing what a Mob is.  Or a zombie pigman.  Crazy places like creative, nether and survival.  Pretending to be amazed by it all.  A crafting table.  Oh the terms – they really should write a parents manual.

And I know that in 10 years time I will miss this.  I will miss their level of need for me now.  As bone tiring and repetitive as it can be; I will miss it all.  From the hair brushing, teeth brushing, washing and search and find rescue missions for lost toys, I will miss it. The interruptions, the detours, the calamities, the constant chatter and movement.  It will all be so different even in a years time.  And I know my role will evolve so quickly that I won’t always notice it immediately; it will only be when I have the time to think about it I will notice it.  But wow, what a ride.  Waiting in lines and all.

In the

The Time of Our Lives

Saturdays.  A day where activities are usually dictated by kids organised ‘things’ – so things like dancing, swimming, birthday parties, hair cuts, and library book returning.  I know even in 10 years time even I will look back and miss this.  Right now is probably one of the best times of my life – days bursting with activity, boring bits like washing, cleaning and groceries, and fun things like baking, cuddles (un-prompted), giggles and story telling.  Right now – it is happening.  Some days I need to remember this more!

Today has already been a flurry of activity.  I am onto the third load of washing already (boring bits!) and the kids have finished dancing for the day.  Getting the girls hair ready is always something that takes me a bit of time –

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Miss Caitlyn has curly wurly hair.   A mane of thick strawberry blonde hair that when brushed straight is half way down her back, but otherwise bounces up defiantly to her shoulders.  Today we had to had to have two buns.  Like Anna (from Frozen).

Then there is the polar opposite –

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Miss Emma with her mix of colours (mostly brown, light brown and blonde) and dead straight hair almost to her bum!  She has ‘a bigger bun than me Mummy’ (Caitlyn) and is not the greatest with sitting still when getting her hair brushed.

Now this hair thing is getting serious.  Real serious.  In a month the kids have their dancing concert.  Makeup (natural looking, not over the top clownesque), hairspray and wiglets.  I am silently freaking the hell out.  I have next to no ability to apply makeup.  Stemming from laziness, and lack of exposure to the ‘products’ I am now hopeful that there are some good YouTube videos for application.  Then there is the hair.  Product.  Again, I have gone with the path of less resistance and that is a band and a pony tail.  The hair for the concert has to be –

* Fly-away free

* Secured with hairspray

* The bun must be styled when wet

* Bun net must be worn

* Must be secured with multiple bobby pins

* Sustainable and non-moveable when dancing

Ok, they lost me at the first one.  I have crazy hair that means sticky-outy bits almost everywhere.  So does Emma.  Caitlyn has escaped this.  Little curly bits (despite our straight hair) that just happen.  I am wondering how to tame these bits!  Then hairspray.  Uhm, I envision my own hair being hairsprayed into place from the angles of spraying I am going to have to take to ensure they have hair spray in.  Oh dear.  It is going to be bad.  The written instructions provide me with no comfort either.  I am hopeful that for the full dress rehearsal next week some mother will take pity on me and have some tips of how to do it all.  Seriously!  I won’t even have Daddy back up as he will be away at work.  So I will totally be winging it.  I am the type of girl that always looks at other women with their amazing hair in awe, not nasty ‘she sucks’ awe, but pure amazement that it is possible (and power to them!!).

Today though, we may have an option.  Hayden got his hair cut, and for the first time ever, said yes to the ‘product’ the lady always asks him about.

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He looks so grown up!  A real, gulp, boy.  Gone is the ‘little’ boy.  It suits him, and he is telling me that ‘hair product is not that hard’ (after correcting his grammar, I informed him that for me, it is).  But it again shows me that even though I know how to do so many things, there are still so many more things that I am going to learn to do for my kids.

Inserting bobby pins, applying eyeshadow to twisty turny four year olds, building lego, making paper planes, understanding Minecraft, and making blankets for toys that are otherwise going to be cold are just a few things I have to learn to be fluent in.  There is no guide.  There is no book of answers, though I suspect that in many households YouTube and Google come in very close to being solutions!  But right now, even though I am absolutely petrified of having two girls take the rehearsal next week in crooked eyeshadow and wiglets that fall out (apparently you don’t want to be that child’s mother) I know that ‘this’ is the rocking chair moments.  The “remember when I had to…” memories that are so visceral because you can feel what it is like to be thinking of a million things to do and how to do them all in the name of Motherhood.

After dancing today, Brendan very happily tells me “I don’t need any makeup or hair Mummy, I just dance and wear my costume”.  Is it bad that I am relieved that his routine will be simpler?!  Despite this, even if he did, I would make sure he got it and that it was ‘right’; but I am so thankful it is one less to freak out about.

So now we are into the afternoon, and we have a birthday party to head too.  Three presents for one kid – she is going to feel special!  Hayden is reveling in the fact that his siblings will be gone for much of the afternoon, and I will be putting a roast on (lamb!) and hopefully replying to some pen pals!

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Saturdays are busy but fun, and as we near the tenth month, I really do have to take stock, and see, that right now, is likely going to be one of the busiest, but most amazing, times of my life.  So go, hug your kids, pat your dog, and look in honest reflection at what is happening now.  It may be that you too are in the time of your life 🙂  Enjoy it.  Live it!

And for no other reason than that he was not in any photos, here is B.  His usual, crazy, goofy self.

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Children {to the power of three + one}

If you had of asked me five years ago, or even 10 years ago, how many children we wanted, the answer would have been two.  Followed by, two healthy kids, boys or girls or both – we were not fussy.  Hayden came along 7 1/2 years ago, and was an only child for a while; for a good while; where we were almost at the point of accepting that he was all the good we would create.  I think we had all but accepted it, and then, I started feeling less ordinary, and thought…maybe…..

At the time, we lived in Broken Hill, and medical cover is limited – especially of the obstetrics and gynecological type.  My blood tests were flown to Sydney for some pregnancy stuff, and so my pregnancy stayed unknown to us for a few more weeks.  At 9 weeks and 2 days we found out I was pregnant with triplets.  January 9, 2010 was the day (I will always remember it).  The sonographer was in more shock than we were.  Jason was maniacally laughing.  I was all calm and serene, for about five seconds, then realisation hit – and I don’t think I have ever looked back, or been calm and or serene since!

I had an amazing pregnancy; truly, it was just beautiful – in hindsight!  I of course, felt like a big fat cow from about 18 weeks onwards.  I was measuring 36 weeks at 18 weeks.  I am just a bit stubborn and refuse to let things like pregnancy stop me from working (“I am not sick, I am just pregnant”…etc).  Well, at 18 weeks, I did have to stop clinical nursing.  I remember finishing CPR on a patient (the patient lived by the way), and I had only been at work for an hour; I felt done.  Drained.  Exhausted.  I realised then, that growing three babies was going to be a little bit tough.  I did still do everything I could; and going to bed at 7pm became my only way to manage!

The struggle was not the pregnancy, but fitting everything else in with the pregnancy!  Running around playing with Hayden became brisk waddling.  Going down slides stopped for a while (especially the ones that are completely closed!); and I found myself having to assess the stability of the swings before plonking on them!

Hayden had always wanted to go down and through the Daydream Mines.  As we were moving back ‘home’ to Brisbane, I really wanted to make sure he did it.  The mines were built by Cornish folk, who, were no taller than 5″  I am 6″2 – so it was cramped for want of a better word.  I did it, and there was only one spot where I worried about being squished!  Hayden LOVED it.  Had his very own miner light, and a million questions for our guide.  I was 20 weeks (and a few days..) pregnant here.

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We then moved interstate packing up our house that we had just finished renovating.  The irony in that is not lost on me.  We were commuting from Broken Hill to Adelaide every 2 weeks for check ups and scans on the babies.  It was all so busy.

Time flew, it really did.  I was still able to play soccer (I am totally crap at it) with Hayden in the back yard until 32 weeks.  Then, I felt like every part of me was stretched, and I was so unbelievably tired.  Figured it was a warm up run for the newborn stage.  Sleep was something that I could never find easily.  I was so big that comfort was difficult to find.  Every day was a blessing, another 24 hours of baking babies to mark off of the calendar.

34643_444442187577_6727642_nThis was 32 weeks and a few days.  I was exhausted!  I was using the time between not sleeping and Hayden waking to make lists of things to organise/buy and reading absolutely everything I could on what to expect (and in 2010 there was not that much information, or Facebook Groups!).  I had stockpiled nappies, washed and folded hundreds of jumpsuits – I was ready.  As ready as I thought I ever would be.

Fast forward a few weeks – and on July 8, 2010, our trio arrived.  Brendan first, followed by Emma (born in caul) and then Caitlyn.  We were incredibly lucky, they spent 1 week in a tertiary hospital followed by a week at the hospital closest to us to fatten up.  Then it was home alone with three babies and Hayden.

I often get asked about how I managed.  Truth is, I used lists and plans for the week.  I would have never gotten through without them.  I often relied quite heavily on them to know what day it was.  I can recall specific moments of twin feeding the girls (because B was such a fussy feeder) and thinking of how overwhelming it all was, and how many minutes sleep approximately I would get between this feed and the next.

Days revolved around the kids – Hayden included.  To keep him feeling included he had a chair right next to me when I was feeding that he would sit in and either do a puzzle, read a book to me or just talk.  This was pre-talking triplets.  Now we almost need a deli style number dispenser to get a conversation in!

Days looked a bit like this –

57028_10150107866112578_4559554_oI filled two notebooks with this type of listing.  This is not the newborn stage (it is December!) so it is not showing all the feeds through the night.  It is interesting to see this as Emma still is the last to wake.  I remember feeding them all one night when they were particularly unsettled – I got about 40 minutes sleep between feeds (after feeding I expressed, and this feed took 1 1/2 hours!!) and woke thinking I was in Groundhog Day!

Sleep deprivation is cruel.  I think being a nurse and shift working for many years prepared me for some of it.  I say some, because it is almost inhumane how sleep deprivation can make you feel! There is a bright side –  I feel as though in the last year I have been able to sleep soundly and remember what a wonderful feeling having sleep can be!  Nothing prepares you for a new born though – one or three.  They are little creatures that don’t speak your language, don’t communicate effectively anyway, and have no patience!

I have vivid memories of cleaning all the bottles every day – it would either be 4am or 4pm.  Often I would not know which one, just that it was 4 because I was cleaning bottles.  Then there was the solid food.  I cannot believe how projectile sweet potato can be.  I mean every nook and cranny.  Every inch of skin as opposed to into their mouths.  Crazy!  Little things like this that come flooding back if I sit and think about it.  So hard to imagine now, looking at a 7 1/2 year old and three 4 year olds how little they were, and all the things you do for them when they are babies/toddlers.

I also remember going to the shops some days just so other people could listen to the babies cry – there was nothing wrong with them, they were just too silly to sleep, or were teething.  Then the questions.  Oh my goodness the questions on a sleep deprived woman!  Yes, my hands are full.  Yes I have a TV.  Yes they are triplets.  On repeat.   I wonder now, when I am up with sick kids how we managed.  Gastro in four young kids.  Not fun.  Poo and spew everywhere, and images of sitting Emma down after just bathing and changing her to hear an all mighty squelch – to turn and see poo spreading up her onesie – I think I cried as I changed Brendan and hoped he didn’t do the same.  Oh the stories I have!  I am trying to write them down.  Trying to record them for prosperity as the saying goes. Because sometimes, I doubt people will believe some of the stuff my kids have done, and things I have had to do as a mum.

So four kids, and a million stories.  Time to start writing and recording as many as I can remember now; before the perils of sleep deprivation and motherhood dampen my memory!

 

Art – Subjective Right?!

We have many varying forms of art in our house – from paper based, to wall based, to face based (makeup by brothers!) and the streaming into footwear art.

Not all of it is a good thing.  I will never forget last year when Caitlyn was bursting with excitement to show me her art.  She dragged me outside and said “ta-dah” pointing to this –

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We suddenly had a 2m ‘canvas’ of various stickers, textas, crayons and coloured pencils.  Well played Caitlyn, well played!  I did not have the heart to wash it off, and it is still there – all be it somewhat faded.  She still smiles when she sees it.

Leads us to the walls inside.  They have had a beating over the past 2 years.  It has really only been a few times.  But usually when a ‘foreigner’ is watching them-  so thankfully not very often.  They have gotten Granny a few times – run off, been quiet, and have remodeled the wall for me.  Lovely hues of red, pinks and yellows (dead give away to who did it!).  When Caitlyn worked out she was getting caught because it was always in pink, she decided to do a little wall art in blue in Hayden’s room.  Kinda all over his wall really.  In blue, to try and blame Brendan.  She did not realise that Brendan was actually with me the whole time the ‘art’ occurred and as such, it could not have been him.  Nice try though.

Caitlyn and Emma have a love for colours.  I still am not sure exactly who is the culprit for this – as the second time they did it they washed their hands afterwards so I could not tell who did it.  And they still won’t say who was responsible.  I have narrowed it down to the girls.  Great detective skills I have hah.

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Just a little neon art (thanks to my craft supplies and the convenience of a spray bottle for them!).  They did not stop at the wall however.  They gave my boots a ‘go’ –

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I actually have not tried to remove it.  I love my boots – they are older than Hayden, and they are so comfortable.  Yep, they need a clean.  But they look lovely and neon-y right?

Now the face art.  I was, admittedly very surprised when I overheard Hayden volunteer himself to putting on make up for Caitlyn.  She has make up from her Hello Kitty Showbag from the EKKA.  It is eyeshadow only, so I figured there was not a great deal of harm to be had.  They all stepped outside to their cubby house (admittedly, alarm bells were sounding).  Hayden came inside some time later absolutely wetting himself laughing.  He had done Caitlyn’s makeup – as Elsa as requested, but he had written ‘Idiot’ in eyeshadow in her forehead.  Now that is hilarious.  By the time I got a photo (she was running all over the place and touching it) it looked less like ‘idiot’ but I could still make it out –

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Hayden was in hysterics.  Then, it was like a realisation hit him.  “Mum, stop her, before she gets to the mirror to check it”.  I asked him why – “she will be able to see I wrote idiot” – then I reminded him that she could not read yet.  And then, and only then, was he relieved.  Which I found even more hilarious!

I cannot wait to see what else they will start doing to each other – all in the name of sibling love.  I won’t tolerate blatant cruelty – not that they have ever done it, but sometimes they start to take a joke too far and it is always nipped in the bud.  They are just hilarious though.  And I often wonder if it is only my four that get into so much mischief.  The triplets room has a hole in the wall still from their ‘bridgewalk’ (they go the slats from their bed that were not nailed down and made a bridge) and the slats on their beds are now all nailed down.  They still have a 3/4 door separating them from their ward drobe so they cannot get in there and wreak havoc (like throwing all the clothes out, or now that they are older, putting them all on and dressing up at 2am).  Hayden’s room still has Caitlyn’s drawing on one spot as he wanted to keep it.  Needless to say, we will be repainting next year!

As frustrating and time consuming as the antics of the trio can be, I don’t think I will ever know what it is like to wake up to my two best buddies every day.  These guys giggle and talk conspiratorially every morning when they wake up.  So many times I have sat at the door and tried to hear them.  It is beyond cute.  When we go camping Hayden sleeps with them and the four of them do it.  We are trying to separate Brendan to go into Hayden’s room as he wants too. But every time we try too, he misses his sisters too much.  Guess it is that innate triplet bond.

With the sibling bond of all four there is a ‘don’t dob’ mantra.  None of them will turn in the real culprit, unless it is something bad.  Even if the threat of no icecream is made, they still won’t.  I hope that they continue to be that close when they grow up, I really do.  They are quite happy to pick on each other and tease (do not ever do it to them or you will have an almighty wrath!!) but they are fiercely protective of each other (Hayden included).  It must be so cool knowing that you have the back up of three behind you!  Leads me to the point of always being outnumbered again…ho hum!

Happy Friday!