Back in the game ...

I think it's interesting that now the "side effects" of my medication have worn off ... I don't feel quite so bad anymore. I'm not nearly 100% - not by a long shot - but I'm rethinking the cemetery plot I was ready to purchase on Friday night. Charlie has been such a champ doing the lion share of work around the house while I've been curled up in a ball, so when he woke up this morning, the first thing I told him was that nothing would make me happier than if he'd go out and play his Sunday morning game of tennis "with the guys". He's been with the kids - nonstop - since Wednesday night. He really needed some time away. I could tell he wasn't easily convinced that I'd be OK on my own. As he headed out the door - he gave me one last look back and said "Are you sure you're feeling up to this?"

Of course I am, silly. These are MY babies.

It was about 8:20 and the babies were just starting to stir after their 13+ hour slumber. (I'll leave for a separate posting the crazy sleep schedule that has developed in the past few weeks). I went in to greet the trio and started to get everyone dressed for the day. I've done this hundreds of times on my own ... no problem. William was finished first - I strap him in to his highchair, gave him a handful of Cheerios ... and went to get the girls dressed. Because the nursery is immediately off the kitchen, I can easily pop my head around the corner from the changing table and watch what is going on in the "feeding zone".

I finished up with Elizabeth and put her in the highchair next to William just as he finished hoovering his handful of Cheerios. I gave both of them a scoop of Cheerios and went to get Carolyn ready. As I was finishing up with Carolyn, I heard William start to fuss. I looked around the corner and noticed his Cheerios were gone. I brought Carolyn in to the kitchen, strapped her in to the highchair and topped everyone in the feeding zone off with more Cheerios.

I stood there for a moment and thought about what I wanted to make for breakfast. Charlie had made banana pancakes yesterday. I recall they had homemade waffles on Friday. A vegetable omelet on Thursday. Scrambled eggs might be a good choice for breakfast this morning, they're fast and easy. Just my speed for my first day back in the game. In the short amount of time it took me to decide that scrambled eggs were on the menu - all the Cheerios were gone and the babies were hollering for more. I divvied out more Cheerios, all around.

I made my way from the highchairs to the refrigerator to pull out eggs, milk, cheese. I started to mix the ingredients together ... and the hollering starts again. I turn around and look at the kids and the Cheerios have been shoved off their trays and are all across the floor. Apparently, they've had enough Cheerios. I patiently tell them "OK guys ... wait just a second ... I'm getting your eggs ready. This will just be a minute. Hang on." Do you think they understood me? Or if they did ... do you think they decided they could wait? If you answered "YES" to these questions you haven't spent much time around an 18-month old lately. In unison, their hands started banging their trays and they were yelling at me.

I grabbed some fruit out of the refrigerator ... diced up 1/4 of a pineapple and put that in front of them. I no sooner turned around to check on my eggs and the pineapple was gone. I turned the heat down to low on my eggs and grabbed three kiwis ... chopped them up and put those before them. I turned back to my eggs, added milk and cheese and heard crying again. I look back and the kiwis are gone. GONE. Where the heck is all the fruit??

I sliced up some english muffins and stuck them in the toaster ... and went back to my eggs. The babies meanwhile were hollering at me. I was starting to feel flustered ... why was I so ill prepared for breakfast this morning?? How hard could it be?? I was frantically searching the recesses of my mind for how I use to handle this. I don't remember all the crying before. In fact, I remember breakfast was a wonderfully orchestrated event and I was the graceful conductor. Now, I'm running around the kitchen trying to figure out what I can give these kids to stop the screaming long enough to get my eggs cooked.

I hand them spoons - which they whack on their trays while they holler at me. I turn the heat way down on the eggs and pull out some Yo Baby yogurt. We love Yo Baby. I load each babies' spoon up with some yogurt - - and after working my way down the line - - run back and stir my eggs. Around and around the kitchen I went ... load spoon up for William, Elizabeth, Carolyn ... run back and stir eggs ... load spoon up for William, Elizabeth, Carolyn ... run back and stir eggs. After six laps around the kitchen, the Yo Baby is gone. I think I've put too much milk in the eggs. They still look like they've got a ways to go.

In the midst of this - the toaster goes off. I pull out the english muffins, smear them with butter and jam ... and hand out pieces, cut tiny to hopefully keep them happily occupied while I can finish cooking breakfast. It dawns on me that I'd forgotten to give them milk. Maybe that's why they are so upset? I pour milk in to the sippy cups and hand them out. They take one sip and flip them to the floor.

I go back to my eggs which are starting to burn. I scoop them out in a bowl ... let them cool off for a moment, and dish them out. Their tummy quota must have been met because my beautiful eggs are thrown off the highchair trays and on to the floor.

My hat is off to Charlie. Not only did he manage to make them banana pancakes - that they ATE - with nary a peep ... he also managed to whip them up a strawberry banana milkshake yesterday ... and fed it to all three at once, with their own separate straws out of the same cup. I've only been out of commission for 4 days, and yet I can't manage to prepare breakfast with out them spontaneously combusting before my very eyes.

I'm back in the game ... but I'm sorely out of practice.