Today was a long day because it seemed that everything that could go wrong ... did go wrong. It is now very late, but before I go to bed ... I decided that rather than focus on the challenges of my day - I need to focus on the positive.
The highlight of my day was not when instead of making dinner and getting our children ready for bed, I took all three of them with me to run errands
The highlight of my day was not when I arrived at the post office and thinking how lucky I was to get a parking spot right by the door - unloaded the children in their huge stroller, pulled out the big boxes of hand-me-down clothes I'm sending to my brother for his 15-month old twins, got to the door and realized that because it was Columbus Day ... the post office was closed. Ah, yes. That would explain the empty parking lot.
The highlight of my day was not when I drove to the grocery store and was unable to snag one of the fancy buggy shopping carts that securely holds all three of my children. Unless I wanted to pull the big Peg behind me through the whole store, I was forced to put one in the seat and two in the basket and then walk around the store, partially leaning in to the cart to hold all three down.
The highlight of my day was not when I realized that Trick-or-Treat snack packs of Reese’s Pieces are not necessarily the ideal treat for (almost) 2-year olds. Unless you don't mind leaving behind a trail of Reese’s Pieces through the entire store. You wouldn't think 100 Reese’s Pieces is a lot ... but when they are littered along the shiny white floor at the grocery store it certainly looked like we were summoning E.T.
The highlight of my day was not when I was quickly picking out some apples, that my son who was perched in the seat of the shopping cart - casually leaned over and grabbed a lemon off the produce stand. A lemon that would be the foundation for the 5,000,000 lemons that were precariously perched on top of it.
The highlight of my day would not be when I navigated my shopping cart between the narrow checkout aisle and as I was unloading my groceries, helplessly watched as Elizabeth and Carolyn, just out of reach, attack the candy display and magazine display, simultaneously.
The highlight of my day would not be when I asked the bag boy to put all of the groceries beneath the cart or else the kids would throw them out. And then, as I was walking outside of the grocery store and down the ramp, all of my canned goods rolled out from the bottom of my cart and in to the middle of the road.
The highlight of my day would not be when I was leaning down to pick up my canned goods in the middle of the road, caught a glimpse of my feet and realized that I had gone out in public wearing my purple fuzzy slippers. Ah yes. That must explain all the looks I was getting in the store - as I was standing in the middle of 5,000,000 lemons.
The highlight of my day was not when I got home, unloaded all of the groceries, brought all the children in to the house, checked on Charlie, made a Rigatoni dinner and when I was draining the noodles - missed the strainer from all the steam - and dumped more than half of them in to our dirty sink.
The highlight of my day was not when after I tucked all three of the children in to bed after their baths, Charlie asked me where the Ginger Ale was that he had put on the grocery list. It was then that I remembered like the snacks and sippy cups, I had forgotten our grocery list, too. The most important item on that list - Ginger Ale for Charlie's upset stomach - was the one item I had missed.
The highlight of my day was not returning to the grocery store at 9 PM to pick up a bottle of Ginger Ale (after plucking all three children out of their cribs and changing dirty diapers), only to be greeted by at least 15 other shoppers in front of me, that had cut out and were using every single coupon from the Sunday paper, in the one line open, with enough food in their carts to last through Thanksgiving.
It might seem like any one of those scenarios above might constitute the highlight of my day. But no...
The highlight of my day did not come until I was driving home from the grocery store. I thought about the date ... October 9th, 2006. Three years ago tomorrow (now today), was our first attempt at IVF. It certainly doesn't seem like three years ago that we were going through our first cycle. It certainly doesn't feel like three years ago I was so full of optimism and hope that Charlie and I would soon be parents.
Three years ago - when our first IVF cycle failed, my heart was broken and my dreams were crushed when we learned that getting pregnant, if we were so lucky, was going to be a lot more difficult, and expensive, than we ever imagined.
Two years ago - I was pregnant and about to deliver our long awaited children.
One year ago - We were preparing to celebrate our babies first birthday.
I reflected on my day, today. I thought back to dinner time and how, for the most part, our children play so well together. I thought about the baby babble and the belly laughs. The words that are just starting to emerge from their vocabulary and their senses of humor that are beginning to sharpen. I thought about their little faces, their little eyes, noses, mouths, hands and feet. I thought about how with three little kids and the massive messes that they create, our house finally feels like a home. (Because I now know how to upload videos ... there will probably be a lot of them on our blog.)
Even on days like today, time goes too fast. In four days, our babies will be two. From what I've read, the behavior that they are exhibiting is perfectly normal for a two-year old. So, I suppose it makes good sense that the feeling I have of falling in to a black abyss, is perfectly normal for the mother of 3-2 year olds. (With that in mind: If you ever see a crazed looking woman with purple fuzzy slippers in a pile of lemons, that would be me. I'm just trying to make lemonade.)
The highlight of my day today - and everyday for that matter - are our three beautiful and healthy children ... that a mere three years ago, I feared would never exist. In truth, they are more magical than I ever imagined.