Sit quietly

For the last 11 weeks, oodles of people have been telling me I need to get some help. Well, yes, mental help, too, but they mean help of the childcare persuasion. And I would sigh and say yes, that would be awesome but where to start? Where does one find a babysitter?

Apparently, the veritable treasure trove of available young women down the street at the large college in our neighborhood wasn't coming up in my brain as the logical place to start. Besides, I would actually have to go put up flyers and do research and interviews in all my spare time. That was said with the most dripping of sarcasm tone I can muster, by the way. Spare time! What a concept!

But when Josh weighed in and told me I should get someone to come a few hours a day, I knew he must have felt bad for me. I was complaining about it yet again to a good friend this week and she reminded me she sent me an email way back in the summer with a college student's info. At the time, I needed someone during the day to help lift Emmie when I was riddled by my pregnancy restrictions and this girl had class during the day so I never followed up.

But because I never delete anything -- my inbox contains more than 6,000 emails (my friend and longtime reader SupaCoo just died of cardiac arrest when she read that; she keeps her inbox as close to zero as possible) -- I still had the girl's info.

I called her, reached her on the first try and explained I was looking for someone two hours a day, mostly as a mother's helper, during the witching hours of dinner, bath and bedtime. She said she was available on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I fainted from excitement and then recovered and asked if she could come over to meet me and the kids. How about the following afternoon, she asked. Umm, let's see, YES!

She arrived promptly, didn't look like an axe murderer and came highly recommended by a friend of a friend. Pretty much unless she killed some kids, I was going to hire her. And even then, if they deserved it, I would have been OK with it. As soon as she walked in, Jack and Emmie started screaming that they wanted to show her their jumpy house (Doesn't everyone have a 12x9 inflatable bounce house in their basement? No? Must just be us. Moving on.) and dragged her downstairs to play.

I hung out with them for a while, chatted with her and then thrust Maeve at her and announced I was going upstairs to start dinner. Everyone seemed to have a good time and nobody cried, so I think I might have Mary Freaking Poppins on my hands here.

She said she could start Thursday, which was yesterday, and she did. At first I felt bad asking her to watch all three kids while I ran to buy batteries. After all, the reason I need a babysitter is because three kids is crazy insane. But then I remembered I am PAYING her to watch my kids. So off I went. Niggling guilt, yes, but I think I'll get over it. (But no, Aunt Marnie, I don't feel guilty leaving three kids with you and I don't even pay you. Thems the breaks.)

While it was still massive chaos, even with another adult here, it was my own fault for trying to do too much. Note to self: never again host book club thinking "That way I won't have to get a babysitter." Yeah, it's the food prep and cleaning that you really need the babysitter for, not the actual sitting-around-drinking-wine-and-gossiping part of the night.

Hopefully next week will go even better. She'll be here Tuesday with Emmie and Maeve so I can take Jack to swim class, and Thursday with all three so I can get stuff done around the house. Or, I don't know, take a nap since I have an infant who wakes up at night. Twice a night. If I am lucky.

And yes, I am now the stay-at-home mom who has help with the kids. Next thing you know, I'll be shopping, going out to lunch and getting manicures.

Be mine

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone out there. I realize it's a day late and $15 dollars short (damn that inflation), but as you can tell from the expressions on all their faces, it was one of those days.



And yes, that was the best shot of the bunch.

He's scared

Tomorrow I am going away for 24 hours to a little girls spa outing with mom and sister. I mean how do you turn down an invitation to a spa from your mom that starts with the words, "Totally my treat"? You don't.

Of course I was gleeful not only because I was going to relax with no children in my general vicinity for a day, but also because Snarky Daddy was going to have all three kids by himself. I am evil like that. I want him to have a small taste of the experience I have for 112 hours each week. Not that I am counting.

But Snarky Daddy is scared. So scared he called his Mommy and asked her to come help him. Wah wah wah. Big man can't handle three kids by himself, apparently. Lame. Very, very lame.

Awful all around

This afternoon, I entered the 10th circle of hell when I took all three children to the pediatrician so Jack and Maeve could have their 4-year and 2-month checkups at the same time. What planning, I thought to myself when I booked the appointments together. Way to kill two birds with one stone! Except really it was more like killing myself with multiple stones over and over and over.

I didn't live blog the appointment, but if I had, it would have looked something like this...

3:40 p.m.: I finish feeding Maeve and ask Jack and Emmie to get their socks, boots and coats on.

3:41: Tell Jack to stop pushing his sister and get his boots. Hand Emmie her socks and ask her to please put them on.

3:42: Raise voice, threaten to leave Emmie at home if she doesn't put her socks on. Thank Jack for finally getting his boots on, point out they are on wrong feet, however.

3:43: Put Maeve in the swing and grab Emmie's socks off the floor, wrestle her into my lap and put the socks and boots on her.

3:43:30: Chase Emmie to the dining room, pick her up, get kicked as she thrashes and screams. Ignore tantrum while shoving her arms into coat. Tell Jack for 39th time to put his coat on.

3:44: Everyone finally has a coat on, so I put Maeve in her carseat and she screams like she is being killed. Turn my back to grab my keys and turn back to find Emmie trying to shove Maeve's pacifier in her mouth. Maeve's mouth is tightly closed, but Emmie is determined and is yelling, "Maeve! Fussy!" Thanks for the news flash Walter Cronkite, film at 11.

3:50: After walking world's slowest 4-year-old and 2-year-old out the door and down the steps to the car, fight with Jack about buckling himself in. He claims he can't do it, I insist he try since he is all the way on the far side of the car. He throws a tantrum, which results in me climbing into the backseat and leaning over Emmie in her seat to buckle him, then buckling Emmie, then going back in the house to get Maeve and putting her seat in last.

3:50:01: Serenity now, serenity now. I ignore wailing from backseat from Emmie, who has been wronged when Jack stole her little Wiggles book, and Maeve, who hates her carseat.

4:05: Arrive in doctor's waiting room five minutes late because it is snowing and people on roads have apparently never seen snow in Chicago before. Might or might not have laid on horn several times on short drive.

4:07: We are ushered in to the exam room. I get Jack stripped down to his Thomas underpants and Maeve to her diaper. Emmie sits down and removes not only her coat, but also her boots and socks. I am powerless to stop her as I am holding Maeve and trying to keep her warm since she's effectively nekkid.

4:08: Our doctor breezes in, he's nothing if not prompt, and gets started with Jack. I ignore Emmie jumping on the scale and try to focus on Jack's exam.

4:25: Jack's done and Maeven takes center stage. I am now ignoring Jack and Emmie jumping on the scale.

4:26: The doctor passes out those nifty disposable measuring tapes to the big kids and they commence measuring their heads. Awesome.

4:45: Maeve is pronounced healthy (10lbs 2oz, 23 inches) and the doctor departs, promising to send in the nurse for the dreaded shots.

4:50: Finally, the nurse strolls in. Maeve is interested in the oral vaccine she gets first, but then decides to spit it all over her shirt when she realizes it's not her preferred flavor of breastmilk. She then takes the first shot like a champ, but squeals for the second and bleeds profusely through her little Snoopy Band-aid. Mommy, stuck holding her arms down, feels awful.

4:53: Start to nurse Maeve to calm her down and lose any remaining control of Jack and Emmie. Realize I am prisoner in 5x9 room and can't move because I am feeding Maeve and have no free hands.

4:54: Jack takes Emmie's measuring tape. Emmie screams and throws herself on floor. Maeve jumps at the sudden noise and pulls off the boob, spraying milk all over her face and in her eye. I laugh at her.

5:06: Emmie rips Jack's measuring tape, causing him to melt down and push her.

5:06:01: "Stop hitting your sister. Emmie, that was not nice. Just sit down in this chair and wait, please."

5:06:10: "Jack, stop pulling that drawer out."

5:06:20: "Emmie, get out of the garbage."

5:07: "EMMIE GET OUT OF THE GARBAGE."

5:08: "Jack, do not climb on the table."

5:08:10: "JACK WHAT DID I JUST SAY?"

5:08:20: "If you two don't shape up, we are not watching The Wiggles when we get home."

5:08:21: (Unintelligible crying and protesting)

5:08:31: "THAT'S IT, NO WIGGLES."

5:08:32: (Louder unintelligible crying and screaming)

5:09: "Do I need to call Daddy?"

5:10: Time to get coats on. I want to die because this gets no easier the 300 times a day we do this. Stick Maeve in the carseat, then have to wrestle socks and boots back on Emmie.

5:13: Walk down hall to the bathroom, where Jack is excited about the prospect of peeing in a cup. He asks me if girls can pee in cups too and how do they do it? I tell him they kid of sit on the cup. He doesn't believe me and says that wouldn't work. OK, whatever. Just pee kid.

5:14: "Mommy, Emmie is all wet!"

5:14:01: I look up to find Emmie's hands (and clipped-to-her-coat mittens) in the toilet.

5:14:02: "EMMIE NO! NO! YUCKY!"

5:14:03: Pick Emmie up off the floor and stick her hands under the faucet to wash them. Thank all that is holy that Jack peed in the cup, not in the toilet, before she decided to go fishing.

5:15: Walk cup down the hall to cabinet, lose older two children when I stop to write Jack's name on his cup o'pee.

5:15:05: Nurses laughing at my children running down hall.

5:15:35: Tell children I am leaving without them and start to walk away. Am instantly joined by two crying children. Mean? Perhaps. Effective? Yes.

5:20: Head for parking garage with validated parking ticket. While paying at automated kiosk, am greeted by attendant through the speaker asking if I need assistance. "No, sorry, my kids are pushing the call button." Give child dirty look. She laughs and does it again.

5:22: Walk to car holding carseat in one hand and Emmie's hand in the other. Instruct Jack to hold her other hand and stay with me.

5:22:10: Emmie falls in wet parking garage, despite holding two hands, blackening her pink coat and mittens and screaming because her hands are dirty. This from the girl who willingly played in a toilet minutes ago.

5:23: Finally get to car, again fight with Jack about his ability to buckle his own carseat, end up buckling everyone in.

5:24: Cry in car because this sucks so bad.

Screw the bird

Remember Monday when I was all "Three kids is easy! No problem!" and I said that things were so perfect I thought I heard a bluebird singing as I left the house?

Yeah, well that stupid-ass bluebird shit on my head yesterday.

Maeve decided sleeping in the morning was for suckers, literally, as she required me to shove the pacifier in her piehole every 30 seconds for what seemed like infinity, but was really probably 20 minutes.

While I was trying to lie in bed and squeeze the last 20 minutes of rest out of my morning, you know, in between sticking a pacifier in someone's mouth, I was battling Jack about staying in his room. Since he puked last week, he refuses to sleep with the door shut and that means we have lost the ability to lock him inside in the morning. So now he comes into our room every morning to present bizarre scenarios to me that would require him to come out of his room. Today he asked me to come look at his finger because he thought there *might* be poop on it. I believe I have never moved so fast.

Then while I was threatening him with the loss of a morning video (a clearly empty threat, considering that video allows me to take a shower) Emmie started shrieking to get out of her crib. That's how she rolls -- a shrill, high-pitched whine that does not abate until someone comes into her room and turns on the light. So to save my eardrums, and those of the neighbors in a three-block radius, I hustled in to get her.

After getting everyone settled with breakfast, a breakfast no one liked anyway because god forbid I should top a waffle with almond butter instead of regular butter, I went to run the water to fill the Pur water thingy we have in the fridge.

No water. What the? Oh shit, it was really cold out and I forgot to run the water in a steady drip all night. And when you live in a 130-year-old house with pipes on an outside wall in Chicago where it drops below 10 degrees, you need to drip the water or bad things happen. Despite paying thousands of dollars for blown-in insulation around those very pipes, THEY STILL FREEZE.

I called Josh and pulled him out of a meeting to inform him I am a dumbshit and forgot to run the water. He told me to get my hair dryer and aim it at the cold-water pipe until it thawed out.

So it's 8:30 a.m. and we need to walk out the door for school in exactly five minutes and you want me to hold a blow dryer under the kitchen sink for who knows how long? Not happening. I snapped that I had a few more important things to take care of as Emmie screamed in the living room because Jack ripped the tag from her new shirt out of her hands. Yes, World War III began over a Gap price tag. Please someone just shoot me and put me out of my misery.

Nobody wanted to put his or her coat on, nobody wanted to get into his or her car seat, nobody wanted to mix Mommy a mimosa. Total bullshit all around.

After dropping Jack at school,I came home and tackled the stupid pipe. I ran upstairs to get the hair dryer while Maeve screamed her head off and Emmie ran around yelling "Mafe! Crying! Up! Mommy! Up! Mafe!" So helpful of her to offer a play-by-play of the screamfest like I wasn't right there.

I tried to plug the dryer in under the sink, but it wouldn't work. Again, and again, and again I tried the plug and hit the reset button and nothing. Swearing, I ran back upstairs to get an extension cord. Then I spent the next 10 minutes with my head under the sink while Emmie tried to stick her head in with mine and Maeve screamed relentlessly for the boob. After all that, the pipe was still frozen and I was frazzled.

After throwing the hair dryer across the room, I sat down to feed Maeve and turned to my favorite babysitter, The Wiggles, to pacify Emily. I shit you not, as I felt the milk let down, I heard the pipe start to drip and then the water run full force. Alle-freaking-luia, it was fixed.

Apparently I don't need a babysitter to get things in order, I need a handyman.

Refreshing, like a mountain spring

Monday night, Josh left for DC and I crawled into bed and hid from the kids all night. Well, except for Maeve, because she can find me anywhere by following the scent of my milk. Damn these boobs for being so fragrant. And I didn't technically hide from Jack or Emmie, either, because they were already sleeping. But I would have, had they been awake.

Tuesday morning, I bit the bullet and answered the feeble call of Jack at 6:15, "Mooooommmmmmmyyyy, coooommmmeee innnnnnn." Maeve opened her eyes as I got up to tell Jack that yes, he could indeed go pee on the potty. And again when I had to help him wipe, because he decided he needed to poop as well. And once again when he wanted to tell me he was going to wear his gray shirt to school. And once more when he got up for the day at 7:15 a.m.

After putting Maeve in the swing and getting the kids their morning cup of milk, I installed them in front of the "Diego" show and went upstairs to take a shower. I know! I showered with three kids in the house by myself. Maeve, ever the people-pleaser, remained asleep in the swing in our room. I only needed to threaten to come downstairs one time after I got out of the shower, so I considered that a win.

Ready for the day, or at least presentable considering the circles under my eyes these days resemble black holes, I went downstairs and made breakfast for Jack and Emmie. And when I say "made breakfast" I mean I really did -- I whipped up some scrambled eggs and toast; none of that bullshit instant oatmeal I usually plop down in front of them. I packed Jack's lunch and made sure everyone had brushed his or her teeth and hair and went up to get sleeping beauty and put her in the carseat. She remained asleep during the transfer, which means she gets a pony when she's older for making things easy on Mommy.

Because it's the freaking arctic here in Chicago right now, everyone needed coats, hats, gloves and boots on before we left. No problem! Right on schedule, we left the house and I even dropped a bag of trash in the can outside. I swear I heard a bluebird twittering above my head as I marveled at the bright sunshine and clear, crisp morning air. I manged to buckle everyone in, climb into my own heated seat and depart for school. No, I wasn't wearing a dress and pearls, but I could have if I wanted to.

After dropping Jack off, I brought the girls home and figured Maeve should probably eat. After hanging out and having Emmie take my order (she loves to play restaurant, but you're only allowed to order milk or coffee) Maeve was asleep on the boob so I took her upstairs to the swing and she stayed conked out.

What should I do with all this time on my hands, I asked myself. Seems like a good time to clean the bathrooms! Oh yes I did. All three of them. Emmie wasn't all that pleased about my plans and tried to thwart me at every turn, however. Even the lure of Jack's special Matchbox town setup didn't make her happy. Now I see why 1950s housewives had playpens.

Maeve, oblivious to all the fun we were not having, was still sleeping. Unfortunately, I had to go to Costco and time was running out before lunch. I broke the cardinal rule and woke a sleeping baby, sticking her in the carseat and she once again went back to sleep. The three of us had an uneventful spin around the store and arrived home in time for Emmie and I to eat lunch.

Emmie napped and Maeve ate and napped on me until it was time to pick Jack up. Again, coats, hats, boots, etc. and we were off. I am lazy and it was still freezing, so we drove instead of walked. After picking him up and getting a report that his behavior was awesome, we stopped at a drive-thru Dunkin' Donuts for doughnut holes as a reward.

We spent some time hanging out and playing before it was time for Jack's swim class and the babysitter (Aunt Marnie!) arrived, thus ending my time alone with all three kids. No one was injured, everyone was fed and clothed, and everyone had a smile on his or her face. I call that a success.

Then I went to book club and drank wine and enjoyed adult company because damn it, I deserved it after the performance I turned in. The moral of the story? Three kids: easier than you think. Also, I am awesome. See, you lower the bar enough, accomplishing anything seems like achieving peace in the Middle East.

Head case

Biggest take-away from our conference with Jack's teachers last week? We have an almost-4-year-old boy who likes to fool around and get attention.

It's not like they told us anything we haven't already heard. He needs reminders to stay on task. He can't keep himself quiet and he can't keep his body still. He doesn't take a nap and he can't lie there quietly for the half-hour when everyone else does.

But you know what? HE'S (almost) FOUR. For the love of God, it's preschool. It's not like he's preparing for the SATs here. Of course I didn't say that to his teachers, because I get it. He's disrupting other kids and they can't spend all their time focusing on him. And that's not fair to anyone.

But in the end, I think it's just Jack being Jack. He wanders around here at home. He has never been a fan of using his inside voice. He's spent the last two years hip-checking his sister and not showing remorse about it. He rarely takes a nap on the weekends and he's definitely not quiet for a half-hour in his room.

When we picked him up from school today, his teacher said he had an awesome day and she couldn't believe how great he was. Apparently, the key to good behavior is a head injury, such as the one he got last night.

If you follow me on Twitter, you know we took Jack to the ER because he fell and hit his head at the pool, complained he was going to throw up an hour later and fell asleep in the car on the way home.

Josh had taken Jack and Emmie and I stayed home with Maeve, so I got the information secondhand, but apparently he was walking away from the hot tub area and the floor was super slippery and when he fell backward, the back of his head hit the raised tile ledge around the hot tub. Josh said he cried for about 10 minutes, and was fine. They went to dinner afterward and during dinner, he ate some pasta but then didn't want his pizza and started crying that he felt like he was going to throw up. After he fell asleep in the car, Josh started to suspect maybe these things were all related.

After they got home and he told me what happened, I called the pediatrician's service and the doctor on call told us we should probably take him to the ER just to be safe. He was sobbing that his tummy hurt and had a bump the size of an egg on the back of his little skull. We had our awesome neighbor (and longtime reader), Chris, come over to stay with a sleeping Emmie and an awake-and-ready-to-party Maeve and headed out to Children's Hospital.

After bathing ourselves and Jack in hand sanitizer several times during the 25-minute wait in urgent care, a doctor pronounced him "likely fine" and told us kids can actually puke twice after a head injury before they even think about giving a CT scan. Who knew?

Jack of course stopped crying the minute we left the house and was all smiles for the nurses and doctor. He gave them all a play-by-play of the events of the night and made everyone laugh with his detailed descriptions. Thanks to our (recently changed and expensive) health insurance, that little excursion set us back a couple hundred bucks. Awesome!

After returning home with the doc's permission to send him off to school in the morning, he finally got to sleep around 9:30 p.m. We were instructed to wake him once an hour to make sure he wasn't concussed and since I am awake multiple times per night to feed Maeve, I just went in and checked on Jack as well. Of course, he was up and ready for the day at 6:15 this morning. Seriously, does this child never sleep in? Does he have a secret alarm I am not aware of?

But apparently, his tiredness made for some docile behavior today. And lucky me, because we dealt with all that nonsense and didn't know how he would be today, Josh didn't fly out as scheduled and worked at home today. Yay! A one-day reprieve from single-parenting! And one more day to sleep in! I mean not that I don't love having my husband around, but let's face facts: my sleep is more important than anything right now.

But he left tonight and I was on my own for bathtime and bedtime. And let me tell you, at one point, everyone but me was crying. And I just had to laugh because there was nothing else to do. I came downstairs with Maeve to find an empty wine rack -- and that's when I started to cry.