mommy blogger

Gotta Be NC- The Triplets, The Husband, & Me

state-fair.jpg

And how many family outings have you regretted while still in the middle of them?

Fit To Be Tied... with a wristband

Every year my husband and I and our triplets (now 11 1/2) head over to "Gotta Be NC" which is a smaller version of the state fair. If you buy a $20 wristband per child instead of tickets, they can go on unlimited rides. The people selling them are very particular. They have to wrap the wristband tightly around each child's right wrist. Not the left.  Not over a sleeve. Not dangling. (Gd forbid the kid has no right arm. "Sorry, those are the rules.") If the ticket booth people worked for the criminal justice system, people on house arrest wouldn't be slipping out of their tracking bracelets every other day. This past weekend when the fair was held, the weather was a little iffy. But there are no refunds for inclement weather. If you factor in the cost of tickets and how many tickets are required for each ride, we figured each child would have to ride 5 rides for us to break even.

cloudy-day.jpg

So we got the wristbands and I looked up at the clouds and my kids were standing around deciding what they should go on first while my husband started off the day's festivities by yelling at them:

"What are you standing around for? I just spent $60! Go on something before it starts pouring!"

Finally they all agreed on a tween-approved helicopter ride. The girls went together. My son disassociated himself altogether and went on by himself. They got off the ride. They're sauntering through the exit while we're looking up at the clouds:

"Come on! Come on! What do you want to go on next? How about this one?" My husband shoved them through the gate of the adjoining ride as I called after them: "You're doing great. Another four rides and we'll break even. After that you can go on whatever you want."

Triplet C yelled back: "I'm starving! I want to eat!"

"There will be plenty of time to eat once we break even! The sooner we break even, the sooner we can eat!" Not that I had a one track mind or anything.

My Two 11 Year Old Daughters and Their Geriatric Triplet Brother 

Triplet B knew what rides she wanted to go on. Triplet C looked at Triplet B to tell her whether she too wanted to go on the ride or not. Triplet A, my son, looked up at most rides and commented thusly:

"I can't go on that. It would upset my equilibrium."

I looked at him: "Upset your equilibrium? How old are you?"

He prefers to take the can-never-be-too-careful approach to amusement park rides. He likes the rides that never leave the ground and look like an eighty year old church lady is driving them. You know how kids are always crying at carnivals because they're too short to go on the rides? My son is the opposite. He laments that all the rides he would feel safe on have a height limit of 3 feet tall. The only other would-be riders who are ever turned away are those who haven't yet mastered sitting up by themselves.

If I hadn't been a somewhat crucial part of their birth, I would swear that my daughters were born two minutes apart and half a century after my son.

Fasten Your Seat Belts... It's Going To Be a Bumpy 4 Minutes

bumper-cars.jpg

Bumper cars are something we can all agree on. Although, the second time my son went to get on them the other day he said:

"I'm not sure if I should go again. I think I pulled something." I said:

"Get in the seat. Your Medicare will cover it." I was adamant. Nobody will stop me from sitting behind the wheel of my own bumper car with all three of my children driving around the pit. Bumper cars with your kids. What a wonderful idea and legal in all 50 states. I'm never prouder of having passed my road test 37 years ago than during a round of bumper car derby with my kids. I like to personalize my hits as I gun it towards each child: "This is for crying during Final Jeopardy!" "This is for finishing my Mother's Day cake before I even got any!" "This is for handing me your report card to sign Monday morning as the bus is coming!"

I've considered renting out the whole bumper car pit for an hour or two so I can "reconnect" with my family without any innocent people getting hurt. It gets tiresome yelling at strangers: "Get out of my way! She's the one I want! You're blocking my shot!"

I suspect I'm not the only parent who feels this way. In fact, I know it. Lots of times while I'm driving around on my mission, a parent will call out to me from the other side of the gate: "Over there! Blond hair, blue shirt! Hurry! He's getting away!"

If you'd like more laughs at the triplets' expense, please subscribe to my not-overly-frequent newsletter and check out my eBook written especially for parents at this time of year: Laughing IS Conceivable: From End of School to Back-to-School. (I love my kids. I love my kids. I LOVE MY KIDS!!).. Both doable from the home page.

 

Laughter is conceivable final Back to School cover .jpg

Middle School Prep- Triplets Style

My triplets already started middle school this week. I know every parent would be tempted to follow that statement with: "My babies are getting so big!" Or... "Where does the time go?" but I'm not surprised that my kids just turned eleven or already graduated from elementary school. This middle school thing is just another blur to me which is a small part of a much bigger blur that began somewhere around 2005 when I first got pregnant. The night before school started-- middle school eve, erev middle school-- each of my kids prepped for the big first day in his or her own inimitable style:

Carly called all her friends whom she knew were going to be attending that school to find out what they would be wearing and to compare schedules. A half hour-long conversation with each ensued as follows: "Who do you have for home room? 1st period? 2nd period? 3rd period? 4th period? 5th period? 6th period? Are you taking the bus home? What bus are you on? Which stop?"

Jacob called his friend Michael. I walked into the room about a minute after he'd asked permission to call him. As he put the phone down, I inquired:

"He wasn't home?"

"He was home. We're done."

"Is he in any of your classes?"

"I don't know. I forgot to ask."

Hayley's middle school eve prep consisted of studying human behavior in the technology age, aka watching a Catfish marathon on MTV.

They each then packed their backpack. The teachers were very good about providing us with a list of supplies to be brought in the first day. Nobody offered any suggestions however on how a sixty pound child was going to hoist a seventy pound backpack up on their shoulders and schlep it around all day. Apparently every year when sixth graders are faced with the challenge of mastering a combination lock, they collectively go catatonic and stroke out in the first week of school. So this year, the school decided to avoid the overwhelm of the locker trauma the first week and save the whole debacle for a future week. So in the meantime, I have my three Quasimodos stalking the hallways looking like they've been sentenced to a week of hard labor.

All of my kids were very concerned about getting lost in this new, cavernous school. The school provided a map of the floor plan. Jacob's excellent with maps so he happily grabbed one and followed it meticulously on the first day like he was on a treasure hunt.

Carly wasn't leaving anything to chance. She practiced over and over in our house. "I go out here, then I make a left, then another left, then I cross the hallway..." creating landmarks to remember along the way. (Hopefully the school has a hall closet and a stain on their living room carpet. Otherwise, I fear she's screwed.)  Once she mastered the actual locations of everything necessary on the map, she practiced walking around to get the pace of her gait just right to ensure that her hair would rhythmically move to and fro in the breeze she'd created behind her. I didn't dare mention that it would be harder to get her speedometer up to 12 miles per hour with 200 other kids in the hallway.

The only chance Hayley had of knowing her way around was if the principal was cyber-dating someone on Tinder and MTV had a camera crew inside the school to interview him.

A few weeks ago, before school started, the school had a boot camp to show the kids what to expect and to meet the teachers. Then the week before school started, they had an open house to get them even more acquainted. Then they gave them maps of the floor plan and they'll do a locker clinic. I don't know. When I was in Junior High, there was no prep. The front doors opened the first day and everyone poured through them and tried to get to their classes without getting trampled. I do remember getting some support. I didn't know which way to go to get to my locker. The guy mopping the floor pointed it out.

***

Thanks a lot for stopping by! If you'd like more laughs at your/my kids' expense, please sign on to my monthly newsletter / take a look at my little eBook:

Laughing IS Conceivable: From End of School to Back-to-School (I love my kids. I love my kids. I LOVE MY KIDS!)

Available on all Amazons & Nook.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07261ST2P

Newsletter Sign-Up: http://laughingisconceivable.com (very top)

 

Messy Kids: Maybe They're Just Born That Way

Messy kids. I have three of them and I might know why. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm not a tidy person. I don't like to look around and see things in disarray. I don't like an unmade bed or dirt, filth, or grime, but I'm naturally a messy person. People who are messy like to say: "I'm messy, but not dirty. There's a difference." I agree. There is a difference, and I'm both.

I've been married to my husband for 13 1/2 years and I have no idea if he's messy or not. It's because no matter how messy he might be, I'll always out-mess him. He always cracks before I do. If there are dishes in the sink or a pile of newspapers on the counter, he can't take it before I can't take it. My "can't take it anymore" threshold is disturbingly high for mess. So this is the example I'm setting for my triplets.

I've been observing them for eleven years now. What I've witnessed is perfectly natural. I just haven't decided whether they're naturally messy kids or naturally lazy kids.

My daughter will come from playing outside and attempt to lie on my bed. I'll yell the signal: "Dirty clothes!" She'll take them off, drop them onto the floor and step over them en route to getting clean clothes to put on. Did I mention that the clean clothes she gets are usually stacked neatly on the dryer in the laundry room six inches from the dirty clothes basket? So that tank top you just dumped on my floor... was it too heavy to take with you?

Both daughters have a way of leaving things where they lay. If they're playing a board game on the floor now, that's where you'll find it tomorrow. If one day my husband and I simultaneously collapse somewhere in my house, we'd better drag ourselves to somewhere dignified before we die, because that's where the messy kids are going to leave us for all eternity.

My son is the best of the bunch. His messy disasters are confined to two categories: Edible and Wearable. Yeah, he's a lovely child, but everyone agrees you can't look anywhere near him when he eats. He doesn't discriminate. It can be peanut butter, chocolate, tomato sauce... The boy can't eat a Tic-Tac neatly. Clearly this is not a picture of my messy kid above. I couldn't find one of an eleven year old. Every time he eats, he needs a bib for his whole body which still wouldn't save his hands, face, ears or glasses. As for the wearable mess-- He doesn't leave stuff laying around the house like his sisters, he just has a dirty clothes moat surrounding his bed. I'm sure some child psychologist would tell me it makes him feel comforted when he sleeps like he's back in the womb. Or maybe it's a home security tactic. If anyone breaks into his room in the middle of the night, he's hoping they'll either kill themselves tripping over the mounds of t-shirts and underwear or they'll just open his door and the stench will drive them back into the hallway. Screw his sisters in the neighboring bedrooms.

But like I said: This whole messy / laziness messy kids thing might be inherited. I have rows and rows of empty bottles on my sink because I'm too lazy to throw them in a bag to recycle.

 

So when the kids come into my bathroom to grab sunscreen every morning before camp, I have to say my morning mantra to each of them:

"Not that one, it's empty. No, that one's empty too. The one behind it... to the left. Not the right. That one's empty."

****

Thanks for visiting! If you'd like more laughs at your /my kids' expense, please join my monthly newsletter & check out my new edition eBook for parents of school aged kids right now at this time of year!: "  Laughing IS Conceivable: From End of School to Back-to-School.

newsletter: http://laughingisconceivable.com (very top)

eBook: https://www.amazon.com//dp/B07261ST2P (on all Amazons & Nook)