say it ain't so

Often times, frustration gets the best of me. While I am completely aware of the fact that the babies don't have the mental capacity to make sense of anything I say, it doesn't stop me from spewing the verbal discourse they are subjected to on the regular. 

Truth be told, my mouth is incapable of holding back the impromptu, swear-infested thoughts that are conjured up in my head. My filter-free mindset often makes for some spontaneous, one-sided dialogue when I find myself alone with the litter.

Here are a few of the most commonly used phrases that are expelled from my lips on a day-to-day basis: 

"I'm putting you up for adoption"

This threat is generally only muttered to the boy of the bunch, Ryan aka Mr. Bean. For starters, he's obscenely cute and he knows it. He's a total mama's boy, and he has a hard time functioning in this world without me. I lose 99% of our stare downs and his days are often centered around the fact that I am a sucker for toothless smiles, chubby cheeks and bountiful belly laughs. As annoying and back-breaking as his neediness can be at times, I will always surrender to the fact that he is the last little boy I will ever be able to swoon over. 

"Can you give me a fucking minute?"

If you don't dispense your human waste into a diaper around here, your basic everyday needs (i.e. bathing, eating, involuntary bodily functions) are often overlooked and mocked by three antagonizing grins. They are completely oblivious to the fact that I am one person and that there are three of them. If I pick one up, the other two seize, buck and cry with envy. The general rule of thumb around here is: if they can see me, they all want me. As adoring as it is to be loved and needed as such, sometimes it leaves me hankering for the ability to click my heels and Wizard of Oz the hell outta here.

"You all are gonna drive me to drink"

If you're thinking "alcohol isn't the answer," maybe you need to start drinking more. In all honesty, I don't drink nearly as much as you'd think. My bed seems to always win the "sheets vs. sauce" internal struggle as shut-eye is *generally* far more valuable to me than vodka. 

"Is this a joke?"

Most commonly used after someone: 1. saturates their outfit with barf and/or shit. We do, on average, 3-4 costume changes a day around here. 2. someone blows out their diaper right after they've been changed; or 3. when someone wakes after a half-hour nap. 

"I'm going to eat your face"

If any of my children ever end up with bruises on their faces, it could only be from one thing: me kissing them. Chunky cheeks never go unnoticed around here and they seem to always get caught in my smooch-infested crossfire. 

"Get your goddamned hands out of your mouth"

If the smell of spit-up was deemed as an attractive, desirable odor, I'd be the most sought out woman on the planet. It's bad enough I look like a disheveled, unkempt garbage man everyday without the smell of spoiled milk taking over my dysfunctional dress code. The less-than-fragrant aroma is ingrained in my nasal passages (and clothes) and I have their tiny little fingers and hypersensitive gag reflexes to thank for that. With that being said, laundry has undoubtedly become my number one extracurricular activity. 

"This is coming out of your allowance"

Nothing is more frustrating than making three eight ounce bottles of formula only for all of them to decide that they don't have the attention span to sit through a feeding. They buck, roll, or will just downright refuse to finish a bottle. Ounce-for-ounce, formula has a monetary equivalent to the value of sleep around here. 

"Why are you so cute/pretty?"

Most days, I feel like I accomplish more before 9am than the average person completes in an entire day. The remainder of my waking hours generally follow suit. Even so, I do my best to spend some one-on-one time with each of the babies. In the moments I do find myself alone with each of the trifecta, time slows down, attention is undivided and for the time being, we usually just stare at each other. Even though these moments aren't as abundant as I would like them to be, they are cherished in a regard that far exceeds a life that reflects a more simplistic means that resides far beyond our comprehension. 

As the babies' tenth month has lapsed, I am reminded that the temporary situations in life are often the ones that seem to be the most demanding and mentally draining. They cue reactionary moments of haste that can often be misconstrued for permanent positions of powerlessness. There is no recourse for their presence, but rather we have a choice to let them make or break us. 

what is and what should never be

Generally speaking, I find myself wedged between a plethora of paralyzing parental predicaments and a ruthless reality of redundant riddle. I daydream of simplicity yet I'm consistently plagued by the relentless demands of my tumultuous trinity. My life mimics an inconceivable chaos that is antagonized by my desire to return to a comprehensible version of my current self-sacrificing shenanigans. 

With the exception of the death of my father, these babies, by far, have been the most life-altering, sleep-depriving, sanity-draining, anxiety-filled mind fuck of my life. There isn't enough Xanax or vodka in the world to jolt me back into the time where I felt content and at ease with my ability to parent. They have strained relationships, precipitated panic attacks, and have gifted me the ability to survive on less sleep than I did in college. Despite becoming more and more independent as each month passes, my situation has gotten anything but easier. 

In all honesty, I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes fantasize about what life would be like had we only had one more child. In the same breath, I can't even fathom my life without the other two-thirds of our pig paradise. Between Charlotte's asylum-worthy smiling, Vivian's bashful banter and laughter and Ryan's incessant desire to be near me, I'd probably have to die myself before I could ever live without any one of them. Moreover, I anxiously await to see the dynamic of their relationship unfold. They share a beautiful, rare bond that will forever distinguish them from your average siblings. Their connection is magical and their fascination with each other knows no bounds. 

In addition to, they truly are three of the happiest, sweetest babies I have ever encountered, yet the biggest obstacle lies within just that: there are three of them. We are outnumbered and despite numerous projected attempts to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I have a hard time seeing so much as a spark. Throw a regressing three-year-old into the mix and I can't help but feel like I should be juggling a goddamned ball on the end of my nose most days. 

At times, it's hard to seek out all of the good in any given circumstance when you continually find yourself fumbling backwards for every one step forward. More often than not, situations arise that are anything but easy to make sense of. They can be dissected, analyzed and questioned time and time again yet their purpose may never be forthcoming. They test our boundaries, preserve our patience and blur our perception between reality and what we once thought would never be. 

home for a rest

The days leading up to the babies' discharge from the NICU left me feeling happy, excited, nervous, and believe it or not, a little sad. As good as it was going to be to have everyone home, a part of me was going to miss visiting the NICU everyday. It had become a part of my daily routine, and to be honest, I think I was going to miss the company of the nurses the most. Our stay in Room 17 was quickly coming to an end as all the babies were right on schedule to be released. It was a bittersweet finale to our unforgettable triplet journey. 

The neonatologist in the NICU decided it would be a good idea to send the babies home one at a time. We were more than onboard with his decision, to say the least. The day we brought Vivian home was a day as normal as any other. It was a sunny Thursday afternoon, however, it would be our first night with an infant in the house since Jake had been born. Just like riding a bike, it's hard to forget how to care for a newborn baby, but there were still plenty of unknowns since we weren't exactly sure how she was going to adjust. 

During our drive home, I had only one thing on my mind: Jake. All I could think about was how he was going to react. Would he be standoffish, hide under the dining room table and poop on the floor like George (our dog) did when we brought him home? I was prepared for the worst but optimistically hoping for the best. 

As we pulled up to our house, we were greeted by my mom and Jake. We put the car seat up on the counter so Jake would be at eye level with Vivian with the help of his step stool. I frantically retrieved my phone as I could not pass up the opportunity to record his reaction. My eyes, once again, were welling up with tears and I could feel my lower lip beginning to quiver. My postpartum hormones were in full force and I was trying my hardest not to lose it. As we introduced him to his new baby sister, he curiously gazed at her, smiled, and waved hello. I don't think I have ever loved him more as I did at that very moment. 

Our first night with Vivian went really well, and we were getting ready to do it all over again the next day with Charlotte. We were really easing into things and adjusting well to our new God-given crazy life. I went to bed that night with a smile on my face, a beer in my hand and another 365 days older. Thirty-three was already off to a pretty damn good start. 

With two babies down and one to go, I anxiously awaited Monday morning since we would be picking Ryan up that afternoon. We survived the weekend with both girls, and they continued to stick to a four hour feeding schedule. Just like big brother Jake, they were good sleepers and were only up once in the night. It almost seemed too good to be true that things were going so well already despite the fact that we still had one more baby to bring home. This entire experience left me thinking how much these triplets were meant to be. I honestly couldn't have even imagined bringing only one baby home from the hospital. Our reality was triplets and our mindsets coincided. 

Our third and final trip to the hospital left us bidding farewell to the NICU and its staff. It almost didn't seem real that the whole charade was finally coming to an end, but nonetheless, we were looking forward to having everyone home. Bringing Ryan home felt more like a scene out of Groundhog Day. It was a brief glimpse into the repetitious and redundant days that were in store for us. From here in out, everything would be done times three.

That night within the walls of our modest, quaint little home was our first night home as a family of six. Three two-week-old infants and a 2.5 year old later and we were the proud (and semi-terrified) parents of four under three.