it's sterile, you know

Today, while I took the kids to their first swimming class at the YMCA, Charlie went on a tour of the Montessori school I visited last week.

The kids loved swimming and they did great. Until, William had to use the potty the last five minutes of class and came running out to find me. And, once the cool air hit his skin, he started screaming.

Screaming, I tell you. Screaming.

We rush in to use the potty and since I had been nursing Henry in the Bjorn, he is hanging upside down while I'm trying to help William peel off his wet bathing suit. He's chattering so hard that he can't stand still and standing still is an important thing to do when you are a little boy - using the potty - and you haven't yet perfected your aim.

He finishes up and I'm walking him back to rejoin his class, with my sopping shoes, but class was just dismissed. Carolyn comes running out - doesn't see me - runs past, and when I call to her, she turns around, slips and falls on the floor. Elizabeth, who is less than a step behind, falls on top of her. They are laying on the floor, wet, and crying. William is crying. Everyone is so cold, they are blue.

I get the girls up, wrap them in their towels, usher them in to the locker room and try to get them in to a warm shower. And that's when I realize that it's impossible to give 3-three year olds a shower at the YMCA without getting the front half of yourself completely drenched.

They are all in the shower screaming, "I COLD!! I COLD!!" and just as the water warms up and I get all three situated under the spray, Carolyn starts crying "Mommy, I have to go PEE-PEE!" and so I tell her, as quietly as I can "Just go, Gracie. It'll wash right down the drain."

But she is insistent and hollers, "I NOT GO PEE-PEE IN SHOWER, MOMMY!!"

But I am also insistent, because I'm not going to haul three soaking and chattering kids out of the shower and in to the restroom - with a big bulky stroller behind me - and I'm also not going to leave all of them unsupervised, so I can take one to the toilet.

Something tells me she won't be bathing her children in the kitchen sink.

As discreetly as I can muster, I urge her again, "JUST GO." More of her screaming ensues before she finally lets loose. William starts yelling "Gracie go PEE PEE in shower, Mommy!!" and Elizabeth is sticking her foot in to the stream and yelling "Oh, it's so nice and WARM!!"

I notice that all the people that had been talking in the shower area, are now quiet, and instead of trying to hush the kids, I ask them to sing their alphabet. Or, count to ten. Or, goodness, do anything but talk about pee-pee as it is running under the shower stall and in to the communal drain.

Once I finally get them dressed and am trying to herd them out of the locker room, I avoid eye contact with anyone that is staring at me and undoubtedly heard me coercing my child to urinate in the shower, by feigning extreme interest that with each step I take, water (or maybe pee?) is oozing out of my shoes and my pants and shirt were so wet I could actually wring water out of them.

I just walk in the door at home, when the phone rings with Charlie calling to tell me about his Montessori visit. He said that after less than five minutes, he was ready to burst in to tears and run out of the room.

He felt completely freaked out and thought that all the children he observed were brainwashed or maybe on drugs. Since we had visited several other preschools last week, this experience was not at all what he expected.

He incredulously asked, "What three-year-old sits still like that? What three-year-old raises their hand to talk?! It was amazing, Jen."

But then, he said that after another five minutes in the class, he was convinced that we must do whatever we possibly can to make sure that our children attend Montessori school. So, he lined up their first interview for next Friday.

If they are accepted in to the program, I'll be looking for someone to purchase my left kidney so we can cover the cost of tuition.

an amazing trip trick: organization (part ii) LEGO of me! (toy management)

Have you ever felt the urge to throw away every toy in your house?

Yeah, me too.

That is why a few months ago, I found myself stomping through our house with a trash bag in hand and shoving in to that bag at least 80% of the toys that were cluttered all over the place.

I made the hasty decision to do this after I felt like I was constantly picking up the same stuff over and over (and over) again. Several times, everyday, I was picking up toys that the kids weren't even playing with, but removing from their storage space and dumping all over the floors.

At first, I was ready to throw the whole bag (actually, all four bags) directly in to the trash, but I caught myself. There were some very nice toys that I knew our children would play with, but not when they were strewn all over the floor and shoved in to drawers. So I methodically went through the toys - once the children were out of my way and not in a position to intefere in bed sleeping and I made an immediate determination with each item.

Were there parts missing?

Do they play with it?

Do they enjoy it?

Is it age appropriate?

Is it a pain for me to clean up?

At least 50% of the toys I put in to the four bags were donated to Goodwill and the remaining 50% were moved in to clear storage bins in our garage, that were labeled and easily accessible. This was the beginning of "toy circulation" as I know it, and these days, it is a very big deal for the children to bring something "new" in from the garage to play with.

However, whenever something "new" comes in to the house - something from the house goes in to the garage. This is key, because otherwise, our house would soon be filled to the brink with everything that I had moved out because children are natural born hoarders and must carry in their little arms whatever they can get their hands on as if their very lives depended upon having that ... thing.

At least monthly, I will do an inventory of what we have in circulation. If toys become broken or lose parts, or if I make the decision that the children have outgrown the toy, or never liked it to begin with, I will immediately discard it in the trash, or donate it to charity. Also, I have figured out that if we have the space to store things, we will generate more things. Therefore, I am of the mind that no new storage bins will be purchased. If something doesn't fit, room must be made, even if that means I'm packing off more stuff to charity.

Initially, I thought the kids would really miss the toys that I removed. But in contrast, once I moved out more than ¾ of their stuff, they started playing better - they were more focused - and interacted more cooperatively than they ever did before.

The sensory overload of too much stuff that was affecting me had been affecting them, too. Or, maybe they were just in shock wondering where all their stuff went?

Anyway. Potato, Potatoe.

I choose to believe that with just about everything in life - but especially toys - less is more. The more toys that you have out, the more that children are distracted. Particularly young children. When I have less toys out for them to play with, they are engaged and not as easily overwhelmed by all the "choices".

What I find extremely interesting is that Henry's favorite toy at nine-months old, is a metal mixing bowl and large wooden spoon. Likewise, our triplet's favorite toy at three and a half years old, is a metal mixing bowl and large wooden spoon. A close second favorite toy, for both the baby and the toddlers, would have to be an empty toilet paper, or paper towel roll.

Or maybe a cardboard box.

The point is: It doesn't take much to keep young children happy. The simpler, the better.

One of my greatest abominations are toy chests that are stuffed with every item imaginable. Toy chests that are stuffed in this manner, soon turn in to toy compost piles.

As for me, I need to know exactly where all the pieces to various puzzles are located - and not have blocks mixed in with trains mixed in with books mixed in with dolls mixed in with stuffed animals.

Everything has it's place and everything, at the end of the day, is tucked away in it's place.

Because the kids know where things are - and where things go - they have been working with me on cleaning up after they play.

I make it a point that if we are playing with blocks, we put blocks away before we bring out trains. Or, if we are playing with dolls, the dolls go away before we break out crayons.

We don't have the space to set up a separate toy room, and even if we did, I doubt that we would. The kids are happiest playing near me and I am usually in either the kitchen or the family room. Also, even though our house is relatively small and children outnumber us 2 to 1, our home is not dominated by toys. Instead, we have a very kid-friendly environment. But with the toys that we have in the house, I have organized them in such a way that when they are put away at night, there is almost no evidence that children live here.

Not that I'm trying to hide the fact that we have kids, but after a long day spent with children, the last thing I want to do is trip over toys on my way to the couch whilst holding a glass of wine.

It is very important that our house is our sanctuary and it's not very relaxing to be surrounded with kid paraphernalia 24/7.

So, I select toys and toy storage systems that blend with our home and don't glaringly look like kid furniture. And, I devoted all the drawers in our entertainment system to holding various toys and puzzles.

Our children's activity table is honey-maple wood that works great for them - and goes well with our decor. During the day, it holds train tracks, puzzles, blocks and books. At night, all of those toys are tucked in large roll out drawers underneath and it holds a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine. This is a timeless piece of furniture because not only does it blend with our home now, but as the kids grow older - it will grow with them. Fifteen years from now, when they are teenagers - they can still use this table to construct 1,000-piece puzzles or play a game of Risk - and not feel goofy for playing on a kiddie table.

I use baskets extensively.

I could write poetry about my love of baskets.

Wire baskets, wicker baskets, fabric baskets, straw baskets, bark baskets, sea grass baskets, wood baskets.

I love baskets and I use them for everything.

Some baskets are out in plain sight, others are tucked in to drawers.

I keep large baskets or bins in each of the rooms in our house. All of the toys I have divided up based upon use or type. For example, stuffed animals are in William's room. Electronics are in the living room. Dolls are in the girls room. Puzzles, books, cooking gear, trains, trucks and blocks are in the family room.

I have moved bulky toys (shopping carts, doll carriages) and excess books (that also go in to circulation) out to our garage where they are stored in accessible bins.

Because I am frequently moving through the house - and the children follow me wherever I go - they have various "new" play items in each room. Yet before we move from one room to the next, it is easy enough to toss all the items that they played with (unless there is something in particular they want to keep out), back in to the basket.

Toys with numerous parts, I only bring out when I can supervise or interact with the children playing. For instance, Legos are great, but after playing with them for around 30 minutes, I will pack them up and put them away. As much as the kids love Legos, after a certain period of time (10 minutes?) the art of building stuff, becomes the art of hiding and dumping stuff and colorful blocks will disappear - only to resurface in the dishwasher and/or body of Charlie's acoustic guitar.

Unless your kids are older and understand the concept of picking up after themselves, I would limit the number of toys with parts that they can play with. For example, we have wood food that the kids love. But, I will only let them play with one thing at a time. If I were to give them the birthday cake, pizza set and sandwich set - in no time flat - all of the pieces are all over the house. The same applies to their magnetic dress-up doll sets and string bead sets.

Some might call this hiding toys from children.

I consider it successful toy management.

So, in summary:

1) Reduce the number of toys in your home by at least 50%;

2) Either give excess toys to charity, put them in storage bins for circulation, or throw them out;

3) Maintain toy storage space that works well with your decor;

4) Employ baskets and bins for toy segregation and keep different toys in various parts of your home. Keeping in mind that not everything needs to be in one space and chances are, your children will remain entertained for longer, if your whole house, as opposed to one room - is open for them to play;

5) Put your feet up and drink a glass of wine.

Next, I'll be reviewing kitchen space and storage.

an amazing trip trick: organization (part i)

Not long ago, I wanted to move.

I was desperate to move.

Because our house is relatively small, just a tad over 1,600 square feet, and we have a lot of small children in this space, it doesn't take much time for our home to become completely overrun with kid stuff and turn in to a disorderly disaster. And when our house is a disorderly disaster, it causes me great physical pain and emotional turmoil.

The fact is, I don't function well when my living space is cluttered. I'll slip in to a deep depression and feel out of sorts. My diet will deteriorate from three two well balanced meals a day to chocolate cake and apple cider. I'm not uptight or anal retentive, but I cannot live in chaos.

I just can't.

Last year at this time, I was feeling overwhelmed with all the stuff that we had packed in to this house - the toys, clothes, shoes and miscellaneous supplies which seemed to be shoved in to every square inch of available space. I was feeling overwhelmed with the prospect of where four children would sleep and where oh, where I would put anything new that came in.

We have one small closet for the kids - and it was packed to the brink.

Toys were breeding in the corners - flowing out across the rooms.

Books were falling off of bookshelves - pictures were falling out of albums.

Dressers were packed with clothes and there were little shoes everywhere.

Pots and pans and appliances were shoved in to cabinets. Linens were stuffed on to shelves. If I tried to get one thing out from the top of a closet - I had to hold my other hand up to prevent everything else from falling squarely on my head.

I was feeling overwhelmed and stressed out almost nonstop.

And there were more things coming in, daily.

Presents. Packages.

New clothes and toys and food for our children who were growing faster than I could have imagined.

I was convinced that we needed a much larger house. I honestly didn't see how it would be possible to raise four children in a three bedroom (one room is actually a den and devoid of a closet), two bathroom home that lacks a basement and attic (to speak of) and whose garage is occupied with a large, shedding, poop-eating dog.

After several months of talking and thinking non-stop about moving, I was finally dragged kicking and screaming, back to my senses. To sell our house and move to a bigger house would be a huge expense. And unless we were prepared to liquidate our retirement accounts, put our children in daycare, or hire a full-time nanny, so that we could both return to work full-time, we would not be able to cover our monthly expenses in the new pad.

Something had to give.

Ultimately, I went through every square inch of our house and made a determination of what we needed and what we didn't. I reorganized our home from top to bottom and side to side and in doing so, have maximized our usable space tenfold. I also discovered that in order to make living in a small space enjoyable (or at least tolerable), you must:

1) Possess the ability to get rid of stuff that you are no longer using or absolutely love.

2) Possess the ability to get organized and embrace the love that is a label maker.

3) Maximize your space and find creative ways of storing things.

These days, I can honestly say that I am throughly embracing our small space and I thank my lucky stars (and all of you that told me I was nuts for entertaining such thoughts) that we didn't sell this house - move to a larger house - and take on a monster mortgage. I am thankful that I am not responsible for cleaning a space that would be twice as large and trying to keep track of a baby that is constantly on the move. But mostly, I am thankful that we are able to afford our lifestyle and I am able to spend every waking moment with our children.

* twitch* twitch *

For the next few days, provided I'm not distracted, I am going to write about some of the big (and small) changes that we made and how we have simplified and organized our small home.

Tomorrow, I'm tackling toys.

the plant doctor

The boy that once killed any flower that he touched...


Is now on a mission to save them all.

month nine: in review

It does not seem like nine months ago that I slept on the chair in our living room, and woke up with a terrible backache that seemed to get worse every ten minutes.


It does not seem like nine months ago that I tried to convince your father that even if the pain I was having were contractions, they weren't really that bad and maybe we could still make it to the Fourth of July parade on Coronado Island.


Alas, my patriotic idea was vetoed by the vast majority, and instead of attending a parade, nine months ago today - I went to the hospital and delivered the most beautiful and perfect singleton baby I could have ever wished for.


Although I want nothing more than for you to stay the size you are, right now, time has a way of rolling on. As bittersweet as it is to see my baby grow up, I'm happy to report that each day with you is better than the last.


You are unlike any other baby, Henry. People, absolute strangers, are drawn to you. You have a way of lighting up a room with your cheery disposition, two-tooth smile and gorgeous kaleidoscope eyes that will unfalteringly gaze at whomever you see.


You have your father's demeanor. You are extremely curious, contagiously happy, and the only time you cry is when you are tired or hungry.


You always want to be a part of the action. And unlike when the triplets were infants - and I had baby gates set up all over the house - you are free to roam (almost) where ever your heart desires.


With all the rolling and twisting and crawling that you have become so proficient at, getting you dressed is the most challenging thing I do, all day. You bustle around the house so fast, and every so often, I will have absolutely no idea where you have gone.


I'll summon everyone's help by frantically asking "Where's the baby? Oh my goodness!! WHERE'S THE BABY?!?!" and someone, usually not me, will spot you beneath one of the kitchen chairs - or wedged behind our sofa - eating something you've plucked off the floor.


The challenge of dressing you is rivaled only by the challenge of feeding you. The way that you duck and weave your head, it would be easier to feed a bobble head a jar of jumping beans on a bumpy road.


And this month, you have really turned your nose up to baby food - preferring in it's place nursing. Or, yogurt, cottage cheese, chunks of various fruit, crackers and toast.


Oh, and french fries.


Yes, yes, I know. You shouldn't be eating french fries. But here's the thing: I'm a lot more relaxed with you, then I ever was with your siblings. Aside from the fact that there were baby gates up all over the house until they were two and a half, your brother and sisters didn't have their first bite of ice cream until they were 18-months. I would fervently exclaim "Absolutely NO dairy!" to anyone that came near them with a spoon and a carton of vanilla.

But I've learned a few things in motherhood.

One of them is that taking an ice cream cone, with coffee ice cream - nonetheless, away from a baby makes him very unhappy.


But letting him devour the whole thing makes him extremely happy.

Oh and how I love to see you happy!


I am certainly happier now that you are sleeping more. Within the past few weeks, you have dropped your late afternoon nap and I have been putting you to bed around 6:30 PM. You will typically sleep until 5:00 AM, although some mornings you wake up a little earlier. Last month, I was steadfast on not getting you before 6:00 AM, but this month, I have softened. Usually, you'll come to bed with us and I'll nurse you for a few minutes before you fall back to sleep until at least 7:00 AM. You then happily go down for your first nap (whether you appear tired or not) at 9:00 AM and your second nap of the day is at around 1:30 PM.


You are really starting to get in to your siblings stuff - and this is making them a little nuts. There are several times throughout the day when I will hear them yell "NO HENRY!! NO!!", but for the most part, they really do think you are swell.

You bring so much love and happiness to this family and at least once a day - I find the need to pinch myself to make sure this isn't all a dream. God knows every time I look at you, I thank the heavens above for sending you in to my life. You absolutely fill my heart.

Thank you for coming in to our world, baby Henry.


We love you so very much.

progress report: potty training

We have had another regression in the potty training arena.

The same day that Elizabeth was reunited with her princess bike, William started pooping in his diaper at nap time. This, from the child that was showing his sister how it should be done. I was completely befuddled with his setback and asked "Why William? WHY?!"

His response - the response that I hear to almost EVERY question that I ask these days?

"I dunno."

After cleaning up dirty diapers from both Carolyn and William for the past week, I started to go batty. These kids no longer fit on the changing table and it feels like I am cleaning the bum of a grown person, not a baby, whenever they come running out of their rooms after a nap with a full diaper and stench that makes me positively weak.

So, yesterday during our walk, we saw a police man that was responding to an alarm that went off in someone's house. Because our children are very excited about any one in public service that wears a uniform - he stopped to talk with us and when I asked if the reason he was in our neighborhood was to tell our children that they need to go poop in the potty he laughed and said "YES! That's exactly why I'm here!"

While the kids looked at him with eyes like saucers and their mouths wide open, the police man kneeled down at their level and said "It's very important that you go pee and poo on the toilet. The big toilet, the one that flushes!"

How about that?

The poop police.

They really do exist.

But less than an hour later, just before their nap, two of the trio went poop in their diapers. So, I did what any loving parent would do. I told them that I was going to call the policeman and he was going to come back to our house and take them to jail.

Now, the only reason I said such a terrible thing to my three-year-old children is because a little bird told me that I'm on track to win "Mother Of The Year" and I really don't want that prestigious award. Where would it go in this small house?

Truly, I have no place on the wall to hang it.

have cape. will ride. but ONLY downhill

My superhero had an emotional collapse today when his efforts at riding down our semi-steep driveway on his tricycle, were thwarted by gymnastic mats strategically placed by his mother to prevent him from barreling in to the street. It seems that there are few things in this world that he enjoys more, at almost 3.5-years old, than riding his tricycle down hill.

While wearing a cape that flows out behind him.


Although I had reservations about going for a walk around the block - with a temperamental cape wearing toddler and his tricycle - and a fairy butterfly princess and her dog (it's difficult to see her dress and wings, I'll post a closeup some time soon) - while pushing a double stroller full of two sick and coughing children, I finally conceded.


After going down the only hill on our two-mile walk, I felt that the money we spent for dog school was well placed. If not for Molly's unwavering obedience, I never would have been able to use her leash to pull William and his sidekick, Baby Panda, the 1.98-miles back to our house.


I have no doubt we'd still be out there.

Ten hours later.