Sunday Morning Mayhem

Five years ago, the day after our romantic wedding anniversary, Charlie had to be removed from our house by ambulance. He was hospitalized for almost a week and the doctors were prepared to do surgery for what everyone considered to be a ruptured disk in his lower spine. Thankfully, it wasn't a ruptured disk and surgery was not necessary. However, Charlie had to take up a daily regiment of exercises that would help to strengthen his back ... including, yoga.

We never really did figure out why his back went out on him five years ago. It has been one of those mysteries that has completely eluded us. Until today.

This morning, Charlie's back has gone out on him again. As I'm typing this ... he is laying on the couch behind me with a heating pad and loaded up on Vicodin. We were discussing how he may have thrown it out, and the only thing we can come up with is the house cleaning we did last night.

I think Charlie's ailing back is partly our minister's fault. If he hadn't given such a risqué sermon, I wouldn't have convinced Charlie that cleaning the house in our skivvies was a good idea. Instead of spending a leisurely morning at the zoo, I refereed stroller races around our kitchen, tried to keep the children from crawling all over their father ... and figured out how to upload a video to my blog. (What I've noticed is that it's best to let the entire video load before you try to watch it. Hit pause and let the red bar at the bottom fill in. Otherwise, the video is very choppy ... or at least it is on our computer!)



Poor Charlie. Poor William.

Sometimes it's better to stay away from the females in this household.

soul food: cleaning house

Here's an interesting tidbit about myself that I may have mentioned once or twice:

I can't stand clutter and am the anti-pack rat.

When my surroundings get cluttered, my mind gets cluttered, my thoughts get cluttered ... and then I'm just miserable and confused.

Miserable and confused like I am walking around with a bag on my head.

Miserable and confused to the point that I become indecisive and am incapable of making simple decisions like what kind of toppings I want on my pizza.

Do I want toppings at all? Do I even want pizza? Maybe a calzone would be better. Or, maybe I'll just skip dinner and go straight for a hot fudge sundae. Did somebody mention a tuna melt? That sounds great!

I'm not obsessive/compulsive about cleanliness nor am I a complete organizational freak. I can tolerate things getting a little of order here and there. With three toddlers - I obviously have to be able to handle messes to some degree. But when our home turns in to a war zone, I shut down and become unable to manage the simplest of tasks. Which is why I haven’t planned any kind of celebration for our children’s second birthday, which is one week from today … and have failed horribly at trying to plan anything for Charlie’s 40th birthday in just over 5 weeks.

It has often happened that I will stand in the midst of our playroom ... in Legos up to my knees ... and look around wondering how the heck I got here and how to get out. Where do I even begin, and is it worth my energy??

This past year week has been an especially difficult one for me. Because I was out of town on business for the better part of last week - this week - I've desperately been playing catch up, both at work and at home. The sad news is - I'm no where close to being caught up. The problem is when things in my life get cluttered, it indicates a lack of control and when I don't have control of my surroundings - it is manifested in every. single. aspect. of. my. life.

Charlie and I haven't had a fight in a long while. But yesterday as I was driving to work, it dawned on me that the worst fights we have ever had, is when something in my life is out of control. Because what we are dealing with right now is some of the worse clutter that I can recall ... and I have been feeling like a real crank, I had a sneaky suspicion that if we didn't get this mess reigned in quickly, I would snap like a twig.

Snap in a million little pieces.

Even though I hadn't finished doing a lot of the cleaning and organizing that I had intended today, we decided that if there was one day that we absolutely had to go to church - today was the day.

More than organization - we needed salvation.

We loaded up the children and took off. Because we had forgotten the tether that firmly secures Elizabeth's lovey to her clothing ... I opted to leave bunny in the car. This was a horrible, horrible mistake. She screamed from the parking lot, through the church - down the hallway, through the corridor, over the hills, far a way, and in to the nursery. Tears were streaming down her face and she was sobbing "BUUUNNY!!! BUUUNNNY!!! BUUUNNNNY!!!!"

When Charlie ran back to retrieve bunny, I stayed behind in the nursery with our three children. I squatted down to talk with them at eye level and collectively; they knocked me off my feet, on to my rear and then climbed on top of me, while screaming and crying uncontrollably. Even though it's been about a month since we've been to church, they clearly remembered that this was not a happy place for them.

While all the other 12-36 month old children in the nursery just looked at the wailing heap on the floor, several nursery teachers came over and plucked the children off of me. Charlie came back - we reunited Elizabeth with her bunny and when two teachers tried to hold back William and Carolyn ... I turned and sprinted for the door. There was a barricade blocking the exit and I yelled to the teacher "OPEN THE GATE!! OPEN THE GATE!!" while I ran towards her, with shrieking children hot on my tail.

I got through the gate and she quickly slammed it shut, seconds before William and Carolyn arrived. I had no idea they could move so fast. I looked back as I was rounding the corner out of sight and could see that they were both absolutely hysterical. For a moment I felt like the worst mother alive to leave my children, but then I remembered that if I don’t take care of my needs first – I certainly can’t take care of theirs.

We settled in to the church service, fully expecting that at any moment our beeper would go off, summoning us back to our inconsolable children. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. What did happen is we heard a sermon that was perfectly applicable to us in every way … the sermon today was all about having a successful marriage.

The minister told us that there are three “C’s” to marriage: Chemistry, Companionship and Commitment. To which I added a fourth “C” => Chardonnay. And then I worried that I really am turning in to a lush.

Our minister told us that regardless of the challenges that we face in life – in order for any marriage to work – we must make time for it. I was shocked to hear that the average time a couple spends talking to each other per week - is a mere 37 minutes. That's right ... less than one hour, per week, talking. No wonder 50% of marriages don't survive!

We must touch, hold hands, hug each other, kiss each other, love each other. And we must find common ground for activities that we do together - activities that don’t just involve cleaning the house and organizing the clutter. Constantly.

One thing that I thought was particularly interesting was the minister told the entire congregation, that married couples should sleep with as little clothing on as possible, to help facilitate the accomplishment of the above referenced tasks.

Can you image - what kind of church is this, anyway??

In reality: it’s the kind of church that we absolutely love and has the highest growth of any church in our City ... for darn good reason. Once again, Charlie and I walked away feeling like our souls were filled. When we picked up the children – they were happily playing in the nursery – after the horrible injustice that they had endured a mere 55 minutes earlier.

We came home, enjoyed dinner as a family and put the children to bed. Charlie and I then set about cleaning our house, with a bottle of Chardonnay, and as little clothing on as possible. Suddenly, our messy house wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it once was.

My revelation of the day? A little clutter might be good for me ... and I love church.

Things I've Learned Today

1) Although I knew this already, today it was further confirmed that Charlie is very brave. While I worked this morning, he loaded the children up and took them to the library for toddler story hour. By himself. Even though I printed out the map for where he needed to go, he called me and said the library was not where I had indicated. After calling the library to confirm it hadn't been moved - I was informed, repeatedly, that it was most definitely still at the intersection of 2nd and B Street. I called Charlie back and after he adamantly insisted it was NOT at the intersection of 2nd and B Street ... he realized that he had been driving up and down 3rd Street for the past 15 minutes. Considering he was in the vehicle with the navigation system - I think I might be rubbing off on him.

2) Molly, our other animal, does an absolutely fantastic job of cleaning the floor, even if she does miss a spot here and there. Now if I could just get her to help me organize the clutter, I'd be home free.


3) People in my real life, actually read my blog. It's an odd sensation when people that I know, will reference or quote something that I've written about. When I sit down to write, it's like I'm updating my journal. If I gave any thought about the people that were reading this - I doubt I'd be as forthcoming as I usually am. So even though I fully expect that the words I write will be read by my mother - I don't really think about my *audience* beyond that.

Because this blog is for our children's posterity, it is 99.999% true - with just a dash of artistic license here and there. The reality is, every single person within my family is a natural born storyteller. We are the epitome of the Irish stereotype. We love to drink and talk. In my case, because Charlie is living this experience with me - and I don't have very many people to talk to - I love to drink and write. (Please do pardon my horrible spelling and grammar. Refer to the last part of that sentence.)

It's extremely important I make it clear that my blog is a literal unloading of my thoughts from the day, usually after a glass or two or three of wine, without nary a consideration for who might be reading these words.

This afternoon, Charlie and I took the children and walked to our local post office. It was a nice little jaunt, about 2.5-miles from our house. While I went in to have some work documents notarized, Charlie stood outside with the kids and Molly. Once in the post office, I bumped in to our good friends, who were also at the post office to have some documents notarized.

You might remember ... these were our friends we spent Labor Day with.

After making small talk for a while, my friend says "My mom reads your blog." At first I was flattered and then I said "Uh-oh. Really?" and with just a hint of amusement he said "Yes, she called me last month to tell me that I had to read one of your postings, about the night you and Charlie came over for dinner." And of course my mind started reeling like a fishing line with a 5-ton whale on one end ... what did I write that he had to read?

Our small talk ended - I bolted outside and told Charlie we needed to run the 2.5-miles home so I could see what, if anything, I wrote that might possibly be considered embarrassing. To tell you the truth, I couldn't exactly remember what I had written. When we arrived home, I did a search on my blog by date and found what I was looking for. The title read: "This is why we don't go out."

My eyes quickly scanned the entry and when I got to the part about them having abnormal children - I just put my head down on my desk and groaned "Oh no. no. no. NO!!!!" Then I asked Charlie how could he let me write and more importantly PUBLISH something like that on the internet?! Charlie said there is no stopping me when I've had a glass or two or three of wine.

Of course I couldn't just leave this alone.

I picked up the phone and called my friend. In the background, I could hear his children crying. Actually, one of them was screaming. I asked if the blog posting he had read was the one where I had called their children "abnormal." He just laughed and said "Yeah, that would be the one." If there was ever a time I wished our kitchen floor would open up and engulf me - this would be the time. After sputtering for a few minutes, I finally said "Well, it really would have helped if your kids were screaming like they are right now, the day we came over. See, at this very moment they aren't acting abnormally at all!"

Feeling really dismayed that I might have offended our good friends, I got the children ready for bed. I was obviously feeling distracted, since Charlie pointed out I had dressed Carolyn in dinosaurs and William entirely in pink. I went to the phone and called my mom. After telling her how lame I felt about the whole situation, she told me that today while she was trying to access my blog from the library, she'd inadvertently pulled up every single comment I've made on other blogs. Fortunately, please God I've never written anything that I would be ashamed for my mother to read ... but ... holy smokes.

My mother has access to everything I've written on the internet?? I feel like I'm 16 again. Can somebody out there please buy me some beer?!

If it wasn't for this little blog and the people that read it, I never would have had the courage to push Charlie out the front door this morning our children never would have experienced toddler story hour at the library.

Of course, I also wouldn't feel the overwhelming need to tape my fingers together. Damn this new technology. I swear it will be the end of me.

(Linda ... Joel, Grace ... we love you guys. You know that, right?!)

What to do ... what to do?

There's a lot on my mind so I'm going to ramble. There may or may not be any rhyme or reason to what I write but then again, there seldom is.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record ... the house is a disaster.

Again.

I swear, it doesn't matter what I do - I cannot stay on top of it. There is no question that it was easier when the children were infants and not in to everything, because then - when I would clean the house, it would stay clean.

The problem now is that they ransack the place and anything that we had out on the counters - must be moved in to higher piles on the counters - in order to keep the kids from getting in to it. As a result, there are these disorganized piles all around our house that consist of anything from a tape measure, to a sharpie, to knitting needles, to chapstick, to sunscreen, to our gas and electric bill.

It takes every ounce of restraint to not pick up all this junk and throw it in the trash can, which I must then lock down so the children can't pull it back OUT of the trashcan and strew it about the house.

Even with our piles that are perched high on the shelves ... these kids are starting to use tools. They will flip over their little toy baskets and use the additional 6-inches to climb up and grab a say ... steak knife. Or tape measure. Or knitting needle. Or ... gas and electric bill that they will then partially consume. Thank goodness we receive our bills electronically too - or I would be forced to sift through tomorrow's diaper looking for the balance owed to SDG&E.

The clutter is driving me nuts. I am an anti-clutter freak, so this is literally killing me. Yes. I know that the children are only small once, forget about the house and enjoy this time. Blah, blah, blah. All I want is a floor that I can walk across without sticking to, for 24 hours. I want to fold a basket of laundry and not have it be unfolded and thrown all over the house - to the point that I can't distinguish between clean clothes and dirty clothes, so everything either gets washed again ... or stuck in drawers out of desperation.

Is that really too much to ask? A floor that I don't stick to and a blouse that is washed only once or that I think is clean but is really drizzled with maple syrup Aunt Jemima syrup?

A couple weeks ago, I opted to save the $140.00 a month we were paying for someone to come clean the house every other Friday, because within moments of her leaving - the house looked like it had been hit by a train. Besides, after a few months of having someone else clean our bathrooms ... I actually missed it. Yes, I missed scrubbing the toilet and knowing that the bowl was clean enough to eat from. Because - around here, you never know...

The children are napping right now. I suppose I could use this opportunity to go de-clutter and sanitize the house, but ... I don't want to make too much noise because if they woke up prematurely, the rest of my day would be shot. So instead, I blog.

And I wonder ... what could I, should I, ought I be doing differently??

Here's the thing: The outside world when it's just me plus the three of them, is a scary, scary place. I only venture to the outside world when I absolutely must. As an example - we are having tacos for dinner and we have no shells. Or hamburger. Or lettuce, tomato or salsa. Infact, we don't even have cheese or the little flavoring pack. All we have is the notion that tacos for dinner sounds good. That kind of dilemma would constitute a trip to the outside world. Although, on more than one occasion when faced with a similar situation, I will find myself saying "Tacos would be good. But the effort of getting the stuff to make tacos is far outweighed by the hassle of going to the store. We'll do tacos next week. Tonight for dinner, we'll have ... scrambled eggs."

I want to stay home with our kids. I want to be a constant in their lives during these critical formative years. But, I also wonder if I am robbing them of interaction with the outside world? If I enrolled them in a Mother's Day Out a couple mornings a week, would that expose them to positive educational things ... or ... would that expose them to hand & mouth disease?

What to do. What to do??

I think that it would be great to enroll them in some kind of class. I love the idea of getting them OUT of the house first thing in the morning - but I am usually hard pressed debating where I can take all three of them, by myself. I'm also very apprehensive to leave them somewhere until they are old enough to communicate with me, if there were something wrong. The few times I've left them - it's been a colossal disaster.

Mom recommended taking the kids to the library for story time, but I cannot rid myself of the image of three toddlers running around, climbing on top of tables, ripping books off the shelves and emitting their ear piercing shrieks. All the while, I'd be standing there like a deer frozen in the headlights, clutching my diaper bag and wondering how to exit as expeditiously and yet, gracefully as possible. I'm sure I'd be nervously laughing "Oh ... ha, ha ... we're not ready for this yet. Ha. Ha."

It's not to say that I lack courage and don't expose our children to positive educational activities. For example, this morning, I fed all three of them cereal in a bowl with milk and spoons. Three children that aren't yet two, perched at the table, over a recently mopped floor with cereal in a bowl with milk and spoons.

A short while later, I let all three of them stand on kitchen chairs while I made a batch of my mother's famous banana nut muffins. Because our kids have recently started to rebel against eating bananas, and I did not effectively communicate this to Charlie, for several weeks in a row - he continued to buy bananas, even though they were not being consumed. As a result, we had 20 over-ripe bananas in our freezer. Today, I made 10 dozen banana nut muffins and 3 banana nut bread loaves which I had intended to distribute to our neighbors, this afternoon.

Once I finished chopping the walnuts, I let the children help me add the walnuts in to the batter. I noticed that for every handful they would put in the bowl, a handful would go in their mouths. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw William put a handful of walnuts in his mouth ... chew ... take them out - and before I could stop him, throw them in the bowl. If I wasn't using our Kitchen Aid mixer, which was automatically stirring all the ingredients together, rest assure I would have scooped out the partially consumed walnuts. But darn if those nuts weren't mixed up before I could even absorb what had happened. And less than three seconds after that - Elizabeth decided Bunny needed to take a spin in the mixer, too.

Honestly. I don't know what to do with these children during the day so that they are positively stimulated. And I sure as heck don't know what I'm going to do with 120 muffins and 3 loaves of banana nut bread. Tell me about it William ... tell me about it.

**************
Here's my mother's famous banana nut bread recipe, in case you are one of my neighbors who are now not going to receive a batch of bread, but want to make your own:
1/2 c. oil
1 c. sugar
2 eggs
3 ripe bananas
2 c. flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
3 tbsp. milk
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 cup chopped (preferably not chewed) walnuts

Blend all of the above ingredients together and mix until smooth. Pour in to a greased bread pan (or muffin pan with liners). Place in a 350 degree (F) preheated oven. Cook for loaves for ~60 minutes, muffins for ~25-30 minutes. Serve warm with cream cheese.

A day in the life at 23.5-months

I was home with the children today. Throughout the day I found myself doing and saying things I never thought I'd do. This is just a sampling from a day in the life at 23.5-months...

I never thought I'd pry dog poop out of a child's hand and then jump 2-feet in the air when they handed me a dead bug.

I never thought I'd be glad - extremely glad - to be the first person to see a dead mouse in our garden.

I never thought I would chew the skin off an apple while standing in line at the grocery store, because my child won't eat an apple if it hasn't yet been peeled.

I never thought if I was at a play date and without Kleenex, I'd use my nice shirt to wipe a toddler's runny nose.

I never thought I'd honor the 3 5, 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 second rule when it comes to my children and a graham cracker that fell on the ground in a public place. For that matter - I never thought my idea of thorough decontamination would consist of blowing vigorously on any food item that fell to the ground.

I never thought I'd lower my standards on cleanliness to the point that I'd smile contentedly while my children splashed in our dog's water bowl ... for the simple reason it kept them happily entertained and more importantly - quiet.

I never thought my most valued article of clothing in my closet would be my cargo pants. (It's all about the huge pockets - that hold everything from diapers to sippy cups to 12-oz packages of Nilla Wafers.)

I never thought that I could spend hours cleaning the house, only to have it be completely and utterly destroyed in less than 10 minutes. Several times a day.

I never thought I'd use my bare hands to catch spit-up (or vomit) from a babies mouth.

I never thought phrases like "Stop playing in the trash!", "Toothpaste is not food!" or "Spit out the battery!" would be common place in my daily speech.

I never thought cleaning my children with a damp paper towel before bedtime would substitute nicely for a bath.

I never thought my idea of decontamination when it comes to my children - would involve sucking the straw on a sippy cup, after it was thrown to the ground in front of the deli counter.

I never thought that after watching my children play with their food and pour their milk in to their applesauce, that I'd pour the milk and applesauce mixture back in to their cup and then watch them drink it, without gagging.

I never thought that in an effort to save a buck, I'd try to cut my children's hair. For that matter, I never thought that my husband, knowing how terribly I do at pruning our bushes - would ever let me within 2-feet of our children with a pair of scissors or electric clippers.

I never thought I'd fully expect that any snacks I give my children - will be promptly dumped out on the floor.

I never thought that my idea of lunch would involve eating whatever was left over on my children's plates and then sitting with them on the floor and snacking off goldfish, raisins and mozzarella cheese sticks that have been partially ground in to the carpet.

I never thought that I'd be overwhelmed with so much responsibility, each and every day.

I never thought that I'd be overwhelmed with so much love, each and every day.

After the kind of day I've had ... I never thought that I'd wager waking up a sleeping child, by picking them up and feeling them in my arms one last time, before I go to sleep at night.

I never thought, in my wildest dreams, that I'd be the mother of triplets.

More evidence I might be losing my mind...

Charlie survived an almost full week without me. While I was at my business meeting in Los Angeles, Charlie was home by himself. Well, not entirely by himself. He was alone with three toddlers, who were fully recharged after their weekend vacations, and in destructo-mode.

I received a voicemail message on Thursday afternoon. I picked up the message while I was in the lobby of my hotel, on my way up to my room to drop off some things before going back down to the lobby for dinner. The message was left by Charlie and he didn't sound too good. He sounded monotone, like someone who might be in a state of shock. The condensed version of his voicemail message went something like this:

"Jen, love of my life. It is me, your husband. I am losing the war, Jen. I am losing badly. I am outnumbered and I have been for the past several days. Your children are in to everything. Your children don't understand the meaning of the word "NO" or if they do, they scoff at me. I need you, Jen. I, I, I can't do this by myself. Carolyn. Carolyn. Carolyn - sweetheart - please get off the table. Please. Please. Please. Jen, this is your husband. It is now 4:00 in the afternoon and I am still in my pajamas. Your children are dressed and look adorable but I haven't showered in ... uh ... I think two days. I am suffering casualties and I am losing the baby war. My zone defense has been breached. Jen, I need you. Please come home soon. Please."

The voicemail message went on for three minutes. It spanned the entire time it took me to get on the elevator - go up nine flights - walk down the end of the hall to my room, drop off my stuff, grab a sweater, walk back to the elevator - go down nine flights - and re-enter the lobby. As Charlie droned on, I could hear in the background screaming and what I think were pots and pans being clanked around.

When I returned home on Friday night, poor Charlie was sick with a cold. He was miserable. I handled the rest of dinner and managed getting the kids bathed and in bed, by myself.

Even though bath time can usually be quite chaotic, our little angels were perfect and it felt so great to be home again. The children were thrilled to see me and would stop their playing in the tub just long enough to stand up and give me a hug and kiss. As I was getting ready for bed a few hours later - I told Charlie that I was feeling melancholy about how quickly our children were growing up. It is physically painful to think that they will be two in less than two weeks. I also told Charlie that I could seriously see trying for another child once our toddlers are successfully potty trained.

Charlie just gave me a look. The kind of look that is pure disbelief, amazement, and fear. Here I am, telling him "Aren't they WONDERFUL?! Let's have MORE!!!" and he's ready to run away. My husband reminded me that less than a week ago, I was prepared to abandon the family and move to New Zealand. Charlie also reminded me that absence makes the heart grow fonder - and perhaps I should give it a few days of being "home" before making grandiose plans for more little munchkins.

He then pointed out that although my dress shoes looked great with my outfit, my shirt which I had worn in business meetings all day on Friday, was on backwards.

Maybe I am losing my mind after all.

Where Am I?

I'm currently out of town at another business meeting. Since I'm only in Los Angeles, this meeting didn't require air travel. However, because I don't want to drive 5-hours every day, I've opted to spend the week in LA.

This is a big meeting.

There are approximately 250 people in attendance that have flown in from all over the country. I am a keynote speaker presenting seven (7) separate technical presentations - to a group of very technical people who know a lot more about the topics I'm presenting ... than I do.

I drove up to LA on Tuesday night. Before I left, Charlie loaded my boss's triathlon bicycle in to the back of the truck so I could return it. After the 2.5-hour drive to my hotel, I arrived at 10:30 PM, groggy and desperate for a good night sleep. I pulled in to the parking lot, hopped out, and noticed that the bicycle was in the back of the truck. Since I wasn't going to see my boss until the following morning, I decided that I didn't want to run the risk of someone ripping off the $2K bicycle, so I locked the camper shell. As I was depressing the lock, I remembered that I didn't have the key.

I checked in to my room and called Charlie. I told him that I'd inadvertently locked the back of the truck, without having first removed the bicycle, and since I don't have the key ... he needs to mail it to me, or else I'll need to call a blacksmith.

Pause.

"Blacksmith. Isn't that someone who makes horse shoes? Don't you mean locksmith?"

Whatever.

I go to sleep and wake up the following morning. I take a shower and get myself dressed in my fancy business clothes. I'm about to put on my fancy black dress shoes, when I realize that I don't have them. Not only did I forget the key to the camper shell, I forgot to pack my shoes. I have purple and white sneakers that I wore up to LA, but I don't have my dress shoes that go with my business outfit, which I had planned to wear during my technical presentation.

In front of 250 people.

In the next 15 minutes.

A freak out session follows for the next several moments. This is just as bad as the time I had forgotten to pack my makeup when away on an equally important business meeting.

I call the concierge and ask if there is any place I can buy shoes. I'm informed that there's a Wal-Mart at the end of the street that doesn't open for another hour. Infact, this is the same Wal-Mart that just the night before, had been on the news because it was the subject of a crime scene.

I call Charlie and in desperation tell him I forgot my shoes. Is there any way he can include my shoes with the key he is mailing to me??

Pause and then a slow chuckle.

"So, I suppose you do need a kind of blacksmith ... after all."

Yeah. You're funny.

I go to my meeting in my fancy business clothes and my purple and white sneakers. Everyone tells me that I look like a mall walker. You know, the women that speed walk in the mall wearing business attire and sneakers. The only difference is ... I'm not speed walking in a mall. I'm standing in front of 250 people. Giving a technical presentation.

This morning, I wake up early and I take a shower. I'm excited because my shoes are due to arrive via FedEx at 8 AM. For the first time during this business meeting, I stand a chance at looking somewhat presentable. That's great, considering I have to give another technical presentation, today. I was working on my talk until 2:30 AM, so I feel confident and well prepared.

I take a nice hot shower in a dimly lit bathroom because it's early and I don't like all the bright lights, especially since I'm only going off of 4 hours sleep. I use the fancy hotel toiletries. First, I wash my hair and then I reach for the little white bottle that I could have positively sworn thought read Creme Rinse. I wash out my hair and am impressed that it is so silky. I climb out of the shower and reach for the little white bottle of body lotion. As I'm opening the bottle, I catch a glimpse of the label that very clearly reads "Creme Rinse."

Huh? Did the hotel make a mistake and give me two bottles of Creme Rinse? Did they forget my little bottle of body lotion??

I reach back to take a look at the empty bottle in the shower and hold it up for close examination. I blink hard and then hope that maybe I'm still asleep and this is just a really bad dream. I open my eyes and look at the bottle. In my dimly lit bathroom I can see that the bottle reads Body Cream.

Not Creme Rinse.

There's a difference. No wonder why my hair is silky ... I just massaged a 2 ounce bottle of body lotion in to my scalp. Of course there is no shampoo left in my itty bitty hotel bottle, and I am due to give a technical presentation ... in front of 250 people ... in less than 12 minutes.

I call the concierge and my FedEx package has not yet arrived. I get dressed in my fancy business clothes, my purple and white sneakers, and pull my nappy oily hair back in a ponytail. I trek down to my conference. I'm standing at the front of a large room full of people. There is a microphone on my lapel. I pull my presentation up on my laptop computer and it is shot up to 3 separate 15-foot screens strategically placed for optimal viewing by the 250 participants.

I give my introduction. I click to the first slide and it is gone. GONE. My presentation I had been working on until 2:30 in the morning is GONE. There are 250 people looking at me in my purple and white sneakers and my nappy hair, while I'm looking at the three huge screens that are blank because my presentation is GONE. I mutter some choice words, and am instantly reminded - when I hear my choice words echoed around the room - that I am wearing a microphone two inches from my mouth.

I call for a quick break. Fortunately, much of my presentation was still fresh in my mind and with the help of a co-worker, I winged it. Later in the day, I figured out that in the very early hours of the morning ... I mistakenly saved an older version of my presentation OVER the presentation I'd been working on.

Once upon a time - I was highly organized. Now, I fear I'm losing my mind at an alarming rate. My cerebral hard drive is full.

During lunch today, I expressed to one of my co-workers, the concern for my inability to manage simple tasks like I once did. Simple tasks like ... remembering to pack shoes for a business trip and how to wash my hair. My co-worker told me that research shows, a woman's brain shrinks following the birth of a child.

Is that a joke?!?

Once I have a free moment and provided I remember, I seriously intend to research this topic on possible pregnancy and child-birth induced senility. If it is true, it would really help to explain a lot. At this rate, I fear that by next Spring, I'll be able to hide my own Easter eggs.

The boys are back in town...

They were gone for 100 hours, but I was never able to stop myself from pulling out three sippy cups and three sets of pajamas at night. After 23-months with these little people, it's been deeply ingrained that there are always three of everything. Three pairs of socks, three hungry mouths, three diapers, three heads to kiss.

After four days with two toddlers, I was jolted back to reality, today. There really are three of them. THREE TODDLERS. Not one. Not two. But three. God help me. There are three of them.

Throughout the weekend, I would query the girls "Where's Carolyn Grace?" and while Elizabeth would enthusiastically point at her sister, Carolyn would smile brightly. I'd then query Carolyn, "Where's Elizabeth?" and while Carolyn would happily point to her sister - Elizabeth would giggle. When I'd ask "Where's mommy?" they'd point to me. But when I'd ask "Where's daddy and William??" the smiles would disappear and they would run around looking behind the corners, behind the curtains, behind the sofa - any place where their dad or brother might possibly be hiding. They would come back to me looking confused and I'd tell them "They went bye-bye ... but they'll be back soon!"

The reunion at the airport yesterday was awesome. My arrival was perfectly coincided with Charlie and William coming out to the curb. As soon as William saw me, he started to cry ... which hopefully indicated he was brought to tears from seeing his mother again and not due to fear because of some crazy lady running up to him and shouting 'MY BABY!! MY BABY!!'

I unloaded William from his stroller and let him climb in the car to see his sisters. What unfolded in the next 60 seconds was probably the sweetest moment I have ever witnessed in my entire life. The children were so happy to see one another and when William reached out to gently touch Elizabeth's face ... and then leaned in to give her a kiss ... I thought I would melt on the spot. He reached across to touch Carolyn also - but unfortunately, I wasn't able to catch that on film. There is no doubt ... these kids have a bond.

We picked up some pizza on the way home from the airport and after dinner, while the kids ran around and played, Charlie filled me in on his trip. I suppose the most important development is that on Thursday night, after several bottles of wine with his sister Susan and brother-in-law, Jeff ... Charlie made plans to relocate our entire family to New Zealand. I'm not sure where exactly we are going or what we'll do when we get there.

On Saturday, Charlie was out looking at real estate in Sonoma County with his brother Steve and sister-in-law Kathy ... and apparently, he has a potential job opportunity lined up. And to think, I assumed that if we were wrapping our cable, internet and phone service together - we had a long term commitment to San Diego.

Whenever we travel on vacation, we always come home with these illusions of moving to the place we just visited. It always happens. Although, I'm not sure where New Zealand falls in to this picture. I've never been, although Charlie did once spend a semester abroad there.

I can't say how many times we've gone on trips and either met with a real estate agent to show us different properties and/or had job interviews lined up before we went home. It has never happened that we've traveled somewhere and not imagined living there. Everyplace that we visit always seems so much better than where we live ... until we come back to San Diego and are reminded that there is no better weather anywhere in the country ... than right here.

This isn't to say we will never move. Because according to Charlie, if the job in Sonoma County falls through - we'll be someplace in New Zealand by 2008. Besides, being close to family certainly does have it's advantages. Like today, it would have been wonderful to have family nearby...

Within a few minutes of the children waking up this morning, I was reminded of the 1983 made-for-television movie "The Day After". I could probably script my own movie that would rival the horror of World War III. Alright, that might be a stretch ... but ... today was one of the most challenging days I ever remember in my entire parenting career.

Why didn't anybody tell me that the day after a vacation would be so hard???

Today, I had three children that were completely out of control. They were fighting, climbing on everything and everybody, biting, screaming, fighting, screaming, biting, fighting, climbing, screaming, biting, fighting.

What happened to the airport love from yesterday?!

These children were absolutely wreaking havoc in my world. Was it really this crazy before and I just don't remember the chaos?? Is it possible that three toddlers really are THAT much harder than two?? Are these children really mine?? For the record: YES. YES. YES.

After 15-minutes of being left alone with all three kids, I called Charlie to ask if it would be a terribly bad idea for him to rent a house at the end of the street where he would live with one child. I could live at home with the other two, and we'd visit for playdates. Charlie just laughed. I don't know why he never takes me seriously. He said it would help alot if I drank coffee and how would I like it if he brought me home a cappuccino?

Nah, I don't need a cappuccino. I need a padded room and a bottle of vodka.

I'm leaving tomorrow for the next four days on a business trip. Hopefully, Charlie can get this chaos under control before I return ... or else I'll meet him in New Zealand.

(Just as I was about to hit 'post' Charlie informed me that our dishwasher is broken. This is the second time in less than a month it has conked out on us. Taking on a week with no dishwasher and three 23-month old children, by yourself. It's a good thing he drinks coffee.)

***************

Here are some of the pictures from Charlie & William's trip to northern California. I know that they had a wonderful time and I want to thank Sue & Jeff and Steve & Kathy for all of their hospitality and special accommodations they made for having a toddler in their homes. A special thanks must also go to Kathy for the incredible new bibs that you made (really - your bibs are the only ones we use!), for the awesome biscotti (it was so nice of you to remember how much I the children love your baked goods), and we will treasure the handmade family book. Today when I was reading it to William, he kept pointing to Andy and blowing raspberries. He loves his big cousin! Kathy, you are so talented. I bow down in admiration!!! (Say ... how feasible is it to make play clothes from curtains??!) xoxoxox :)

Day 4: Girls Only Weekend

Today was the last day of our Girls Only Weekend and it was perfect. Nobody threw up, the doorbell didn't ring at some ungodly hour, and for the most part - there was peace in the land.

Because we've been running around so much for the past few days, I decided that we needed to have a quiet morning. We enjoyed pancakes and an O'Henry bar breakfast (because that's what women in my family do) and I then worked with the girls on their shapes and colors using the Melissa & Doug toys I bought on Friday. I figured if the Pediatric Dentist didn't approve of chocolate milk - she really wouldn't condone me teaching our children their colors with the aid of M&M's. Although, I may opt to not share that tad-bit of information when I return to the dentist for the children's visit next month.
It was unanimously decided that no "Girls Only Weekend" would be complete without a little pampering, so everyone received a pedicure this morning. Painting a toddler's toenails has got to be one of the hardest things I've ever done. For starters - their little toes are the size of corn niblets and their toenails are smaller than the head on my knitting needles. If that wasn't tricky enough - they curl their piggies and wiggle their legs, and once I finished, they tried to stick their feet in their mouth. Once I got their teeny tiny nails painted ... my next challenge came in the form of taking a picture with thirty bright red toenails, all in one frame.

As the morning wore on, we retreated outside to play in the sand and water our plants. More appropriately, we watered the sand and played in our plants. Ah ... tomato, tomato ... potato, potato. Whenever there is sand and running water, we have happy children. So what if we've gone through more than 500 pounds of sand and a few thousand gallons of water this summer - all for our children's amusement?? It's not like we live in a coastal desert with the constant threat of wildfires, or something. Uh, actually ... we do. I highly doubt that we are at risk for fire because the land surrounding our house is like a marsh. I wouldn't be surprised if the water table is shallower beneath our lot than anywhere else in our neighborhood, simply because of the water run-off from playing in our backyard.

Just before naptime, the girls had a fun time running around and playing with their dolls. Each girl has laid claim to their very own baby doll and very own doll carriage. They tend to get quite territorial about these things. They were adamant that I wrapped each of the dolls up in a blanket, and with their tightly bundled dolls, they had stroller races around the kitchen. When I tucked the girls in for a nap a short while later, I was amused that Elizabeth insisted on being wrapped up tightly, with bunny stuck in the blanket under her chin - just as I had done with her doll. I snapped off some photos of her being wrapped up cuddly, and when I came back two minutes later, she was fast asleep. She didn't move from this swaddled state until she awoke from her nap, two hours later.

When the girls woke up, they were still a bit groggy, so I made them a snack and let them watch "The Princess Diaries" while camped out on our bed. I didn't intend for them to watch this particular show, but, since it held their attention more than anything else on at the time - that's all that mattered for me. Thank goodness it wasn't Montel. They sat contentedly for a good 30 minutes while I vacuumed, mopped and folded laundry. As they grow up - I truly hope that they always have a strong friendship and bond. A majority of the time, like today, they are so loving and sharing with one another that it absolutely melts my heart.

As I finished trying to get the house tidied up for the boys return, I gladly welcomed the assistance of my two little helpers. UNTIL, we got to the bathroom. I turned my back for a split second, and they wasted no time unrolling toilet paper directly in to the commode and then stuck their hands in to stir it up. Fortunately the toilet was clean. However, as I was washing Carolyn's hands, Elizabeth grabbed the toilet brush and before I could stop her - stuck it in her mouth.

That's right. The toilet brush. In her mouth. She licked it like a lollipop. But only once - before I shrieked and grabbed it from her hands. I almost lost my pancake and O'Henry bar breakfast. Heck, I almost lost my dinner just thinking about it, again.

The only reason I am writing this out, is because as Elizabeth grows older ... if she happens to have the vague memory as a small child, of being held on the ground while her mother screamed "ARGH!" and sloshed water on her face and mouth ... this is the reason why.

Charlie and William were due to arrive at 5:30 PM, so once all the evidence of our raging "Girls Only Weekend" was successfully cleaned up ... I loaded the kids up and we took off for the carousel. The girls love going on the merry-go-round. We had a little over an hour before we needed to be at the airport, so I bought 9 tickets and we went 'round and 'round and 'round until we were positively dizzy. Elizabeth's looks of panic slowly gave way to joy ... while Carolyn screamed gleefully the entire time.

In my mind, I kept thinking about the MasterCard commercials. If I had to do my own commercial ... it would go something like this:

• Eight years of infertility - ovulation predictor kits, home pregnancy tests, endless boxes of Kleenex for wiping away frustrated tears: $4,550.00

• Surgeries, medications, and more heartbreak: $27,720.00

• Three rounds of IVF+ICSI: $45,450.00

• Triplet pregnancy, bedrest and delivery: (~) $150,000.00

• 6 long weeks for my babies in the NICU: (~) $1,000,000.00 (That's a guesstimate based on talking with the neonatologists. Believe me, if it wasn't for excellent insurance coverage - I'm sure I'd know the exact amount. I didn't see a single bill...)
  

• Round trip airline ticket for father and son: $120.00

• 9 tickets on the Balboa Park merry-go-round: $18.00

• First ever "Girls Only Weekend" with my two long-awaited miracle daughters: Priceless
.

These children are unbelievably amazing. I feel so incredibly blessed that of all the people in the world - they were born to me.

We left the carousel and 5 minutes later ... the savages tribe was reunited. Charlie and William arrived home safely from their "boys weekend away" and I heard some wonderful stories about the places and people that they visited. I have some great pictures of their first ever "father-son adventure" and I caught some awesome pictures of the reunion. But, you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see them.

Before it gets too late, I need to enjoy a bottle glass of wine with my husband.

Day 3: Girls Only Weekend

Tomorrow is our last day of our "Girls Only Weekend" and I need to slow it way down. Tonight, I am completely zapped and for the second night in a row, I didn't tuck the girls in to bed until past 9 PM ... which is way out of line with my principles for a strict bedtime at 7:00 PM, 7:15 PM, 7:30 PM, 7:45 PM 8:00 PM.

This morning, I woke up at 7:00. I laid in bed for a few minutes - reflecting on all the shopping I had completed yesterday and how adorable the kids were going to look in their new clothes.

I stumbled out of bed and walked to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of OJ. As I tiptoed past the nursery, I could tell that the girls were still sleeping. I thought to myself, "Ah, good. I'll let them go until 8:00 and that will give me plenty of time to get dressed, get breakfast ready, and unload the dishwasher."

Anticipating that I have at least an hour to spare before the kids woke up, I tiptoe back in to our bathroom and decide to give myself a green mud facial. I open the tube and smear a handful of mud all over my face. Once it dries, in 20 minutes, I'll wash it off and instantly look 15 years younger. As I'm standing there sipping my juice, waiting for my mask to dry, and savoring the tranquility of a quiet house ... the doorbell rings.

Which, of course wakes the girls up ... and which, of course, sets my heart racing. Who the heck is here so early on a Saturday morning?!

I peek through the blinds and see it's the cableman, here to bundle our television, internet and phone service together. Had this been ANY OTHER PERSON (with the exception of a surprise visit from my mother or Ed McMahon holding a bouquet of balloons), I doubt I would have opened the door. But, I suddenly remembered Charlie had scheduled this service a week ago, and I didn't want my husband thinking I was a monumental flake for not answering the door simply because it was too early for someone to be calling and I looked like hell warmed over.

I open the front door wearing my red flannel snowman pajamas, that I've had for the past 8 years and wore up until I was 6 months pregnant. My hair is pulled up in to a rats nest on top of my head ... a remnant of the ponytail I was wearing yesterday and I have a green mud mask smeared on my face. I look positively lovely. The cableman comes in and doesn't even bat an eye, which makes me think that my appearance is not unusual for stuff he sees during his rounds.

He asks me something about "Where is the cable and phone cord?" Blah, blah, blah. I try helping for a few minutes, but I clearly have no idea what he is looking for and I don't have the brain capacity to understand at that point in time, because the mud mask is now partially dry and my face is itching like mad. I finally shoo him off to the garage to do his own investigation while I get the kids out of their cribs.

When he comes back in a few minutes later, Elizabeth is running around the kitchen. We make small talk about how he has a toddler at home that is on the brink of driving he and his wife insane. Just then, Carolyn comes running in from the opposite direction, wearing Molly's collar around her neck, and the guys jaw drops open. He looks at me and says incredulously, "Oh my God. There's two of them?" I respond "No ... there's actually three of them. But, if all three of them were home right now, I'd look worse than I actually do. This is my vacation day."

This invariably leads to him asking me questions about whether or not triplets run in our family, did I take fertility drugs, and how do we manage? For the record: I'll tell anyone under the sun that Charlie and I went through three cycles of IVF to be blessed with our children. But as I was standing in the kitchen this morning ... in my snowman pajamas - rats nest hairstyle - and green face ... I didn't have it in my heart to tell our cableman the whole story. Yes, we have multiples in our family (that's the truth). The only drugs I took were prenatal vitamins (God, please don't strike me down). We manage because Charlie and I have an outrageous sense of humor.

The cableman leaves and we eat breakfast and then take off to feed ducks in the local pond. Actually, it's a water hazard at the golf course - but ducks live there. I try to get out at least once a week to feed the ducks the heels from our bread or any pieces that are moldy. The kids are starting to get the hang of feeding the ducks - although they'll sometimes eat the pieces that I give them to throw out, which always makes me gag whenever I see our children chomping on a chunk of green fuzzy bread.

I planned to put the girls down for two naps today, because they went to bed late, woke up early and I didn't want them to be overtired ... especially since we had a birthday party to attend this afternoon. But on the way home, Elizabeth started to fall asleep in the stroller.

THIS IS NEVER A GOOD THING, because all it takes is 5 minutes of shut-eye and her little sleep clock is entirely reset (interpretation: you can kiss that 2 hour nap g'bye). I started jogging with the stroller, swerving it all over the sidewalk. I leaned down and rubbed her head and was loudly singing "Stayin Alive". We get home and I quickly unload the girls in to their cribs. I take a quick shower, get dressed, and wrap the birthday present. I peek my head in the nursery and the girls are wide awake. They hadn't slept at all. While they are still in their cribs, I whip up a batch of O'Henry bars - since the person we're scheduled to visit this afternoon (an old neighbor) once ate an entire pan of O'Henry's while at our house. An entire pan. Twenty minutes later, he learned about the laxative effects of Karo Syrup. Despite spending the next 4 hours in the bathroom ... he LOVES O'Henry's and is always asking for a batch.

I get the girls up and feed them lunch. It's was good I waited to get them dressed for the day until after they'd licked the O'Henry topping off the spoons. We load in to the car and as I'm pulling out of the driveway, I remember my cell phone. I retrieve it and start to leave again, when I remember my camera. Leave again, remember the present. And the O'Henry's still cooling in the refrigerator. After running in and out of the house SEVEN times for various odds and ends, we finally leave and drive TWO HOURS to the birthday party. Thankfully the kids slept the whole way, although I never would have gone if I knew it would take so long to get there.

We arrive - the kids play in an un-landscaped yard for a couple hours where they are covered from head to toe in dirt - and then we drive TWO HOURS back home. They didn’t sleep a wink, but rather, laughed hysterically while they watched Baby Beethoven repeat five times. If I ever questioned the usefulness of it - today I was convinced that the DVD player in our van is worth it’s weight in gold.

When I arrived home at 8:30 PM, I open the garage door to pull the van in and immediately realize the door leading to our house has been left open. Molly is no where to be seen. But instead of instantly thinking "Where has the dog gone?!" I pray that no stray rats have scurried in to our house. I walk in to the house and find Molly laying on the floor in our bedroom with tufts of black hair everywhere. Thank goodness she is more mature than she once was. I shudder to think how bad it would have been, to have a labrador retriever puppy with full access to a house for six unsupervised hours. It happened once when we were in grad school. Monty and Molly both got in to the house while Charlie and I were out of town. Two weeks and an untold number of Febreeze bottles later ... our house still stunk to high heaven.

Because the kids were literally rolling around in the dirt backyard at the birthday party - I figured that they needed baths when we got home. To keep it fast and simple, I filled up the kitchen sink and stuck them both in. When it came time to take them out, I dried one off and put on the top part of their pj's, letting them run around diaperless for a couple minutes until I could get the second baby out. Doesn't it figure that both of them, as soon as their little feet touched the ground, took off running to the carpeted part of our house and went pee everywhere. If the dog doesn’t go pee in the house, I suppose they think they should.

Tonight, as I was on my hands and knees cleaning dog hair and pee off the ground, I had to remind myself that it could be worse. If it wasn't for the O'Henry bars and shiny face that looks 15 years younger ... I might not have felt like I was on vacation.

Day 2: Girls Only Weekend

We had a leisurely morning with a healthy breakfast followed by lots of playing.

We then took a walk to our local park where I showed the girls how to do cartwheels, which unlike somersaults, do not put any strain on my neck. At least not that I can tell. Although, my shoulders do feel a little stiff, so if I can't put on deodorant tomorrow, cartwheels in the park today, will be the reason why.

It was really nice having *only* two toddlers to look after. Usually when we're at the park, I'm darting around trying to save one child from falling off the play structure that is designed for 5-12 year olds ... while the second child is running up to a rabid looking dog ... and the third child is obliviously about to walk in front of the 10-year old wearing soccer cleats who is pumping higher and higher on the swing.

Today, no one ran away from me at the park. Instead, my biggest challenge was trying to keep the girls out of the dryer at home.

After lunch, Carolyn and Elizabeth took an almost three hour nap and for the first time ... ever (?) ... I took a nap with them. Rather than cleaning or doing laundry or putting the washed cover back on the carseat from yesterday (note barren looking carseat in picture below), all of which were items on my "To-Do" list ... I closed my eyes for 120 minutes and slept. It was glorious.

I'm not sure why I don't take a nap everyday ... but after today, I'm thinking that this whole napping thing is good. Real good.

When we all woke up from our naps, we did what every red-blooded girl loves to do.

We went shopping.

We headed south to the outlet mall just north of Tijuana, Mexico. I was a bit skeptical driving so close to Mexico, but I'm always up for an adventure. And really, what better adventure is there than hitting a border outlet mall at 4 PM on a Friday ... with two toddlers?

Our first stop was the Carter's outlet ... followed by Osh Gosh B'Gosh ... Stride Rite ... Baby Gap ... and The Children's Place. I now have all of the overalls, dresses, skirts, pants, turtlenecks, tights, onesies, sweatpants, sweatshirts, jackets, socks, pajamas and shoes to get us comfortably though the fall, winter and spring. Not to mention, we picked up a pleothra of new Melissa & Doug wooden toys. The kids love those - and I love them because they don't make noise and don't require a ridiculous number of size D batteries.

It feels really good to know that we have the children's clothing needs completely covered for the next 9-months. Clothing a set of 23-month old triplets for the fall, winter and spring set us back $475.00. Fortunately, I made it to Osh Gosh the last day they were offering the multiples discount. Had I waited until tomorrow to do my shopping, we would be out $645.00. Now I understand why my mother use to look at her seven children whenever we'd go clothes shopping in the fall and say "You need to get a job!" I'm also starting to see the logic in Julie Andrew's making all of the Von Trapp children's play clothes out of curtains.

If only I knew how to sew...

Lately, it's become a real struggle for me to get the kids in to their carseat or stroller. They transform in to contortionists and will do an absolute backbend to get out, all the while kicking and screaming uncontrollably.

The anticipation leading up to me having to get the kids in to the car or carriage is probably the most stress I face during any given day. I've started to wonder if people who witness our loading process ever question whether or not these are actually my children - or - if I'm trying to steal them ... hence the spaz attack. Because I typically don't make eye contact with strangers during these circumstances ... I doubt I'll ever know. But to date, the police haven't been summoned, so I suppose that's a good sign.

Today, during our outing, I decided that I would tether the girls in their harnesses and let them walk with me. I figured that them walking would probably be the lesser of two evils. If they were in their stroller - they would be grabbing whatever they could reach AND screaming to get out ... whereas if they were walking, they'd only be grabbing whatever they could. How's that for logic and forethought?

At our first shop, I made an interesting discovery.

As moronic as it may seem ... just because it's a BABY STORE, doesn't mean that it is BABY PROOFED. At first I was mortified my children were pulling every "sterile" looking newborn toy off the shelves and putting it in their mouths ... but after trying to avert their desire to touch EVERY.SINGLE.THING I came to the conclusion that the sales people at Carters need to be taught a lesson.

This is what happens when they put toys at toddler eye level.

Even though I tidied up before we left - I'm sure they especially appreciated me standing back to take pictures while my girls pulled every toy off the shelf.

The harnesses worked pretty well. Lucky for me, the majority of the time ... the girls would go in two opposite directions and would severely impair each other's ability to run away.

Although I didn't like seeing Carolyn lay face down on a public floor, the fact that she was an anchor to Elizabeth who was attempting to run out the front door with her arms over her head was a good thing. I did catch a few "looks" from people ... the kind of look that clearly says "What kind of parent would put their child on a leash?!" But it's too bad no one actually asked me that question, because I was prepared with a good response.

I didn't mention it here on my blog ... but two weeks ago, during our trip to Los Angeles, I had one of my scariest parenting moments, yet. Following our picnic, Charlie had taken Elizabeth to drop off the diaper bag in the car ... while I held William and Carolyn by their hands and walked over to see some ponies. A woman came up alongside me and without warning, bent down and scooped Carolyn up.

That's right ... an absolute stranger PICKED UP MY BABY.

Carolyn, a child who has never done too well with strangers, instantly started screaming. I was in disbelief ... and it took me a moment (count - maybe two seconds?) to gather my senses and reach over to take my child back. I don't think the woman spoke english - because she muttered something in spanish when I said "Oh, no thankyou. Neither she nor I do well with strangers."

Holding a crying Carolyn in one arm and holding William by the hand ... this woman darted around to the other side of me, and snatched William up. That's right ... immediately after I took Carolyn from her, SHE PICKED UP WILLIAM.

This time, I was somewhat more prepared and wasted no time reaching over and grabbing my child back. It's hard for me to be unfriendly, but I snapped at the woman "I'm not sure what you're on ... but it's not acceptable to grab small children away from their mothers!!"

Two minutes later, I spotted Charlie and told him what had happened. My heart was beating out of my chest as I relayed the story of an absolute stranger picking up our children. Charlie, normally a level-headed guy, freaked out more than I had. He said "Jen! What if she jumped in a car and drove away?!?" I seriously doubt that would have happened because I know I would have tackled this woman to the ground and beat the living crap out of her but with two babies ... it would definitely be tricky. Not impossible, but tricky.

Suffice to say, I am no longer ashamed of our safety harnesses. Even though I hold the children's hands when they are walking with me, having a strap that I can hold on to, is one added measure of security that I absolutely need with multiple toddlers.

By the time we'd finished with Osh Gosh, the girls were wiped out with their exploring and were trying to climb in to storage boxes to lay down. Seizing the opportunity, with a minimal amount of resistance, I loaded them in to their stroller, where they happily rode out the rest of their mother's shopping spree.

There were a few critical items we needed from the grocery, so our last stop of the day was Costco. We made a quick run through the aisles and because it was late ... I opted to feed the girls dinner in the food court.

Fortunately, they did eat some apples while we shopped (and I had to laugh at Carolyn trying to share her apple with Elmo) and we did have a healthy breakfast ... because I don't know that there is a whole lot of nutritional value in the crust of a cheese pizza and a bowl of vanilla icecream frozen yogurt.

Even though I didn't tuck the girls in until 9:00 PM tonight, today was a wonderful day.

I realized that I can still do cartwheels.

I took an unplanned nap.

I went shopping with my two daughters and bought them their very first pair of rhinestone sunglasses.

We had pizza and icecream frozen yogurt for dinner.

I showered all of my love and attention on my children - and I didn't lose my patience. Not even once. This day will be hard to top ... but tomorrow I'll try.

(Blogger is not cooperating with me, so I have no idea in what order these pictures will appear. Hopefully, they'll follow along with the story, but if not ... oh well. Too bad I'm not more technically savvy, I could probably figure this out. )