I turn 30 this week.
When I was younger and would try picturing myself at 20, 25, 30 and beyond, those ages were little more than numbers. Truth be told, I honestly never thought I’d live that long (irrational fear courtesy of a parent dying young, I suppose), but even when I tried to imagine life at these milestone ages, I just couldn’t.
I had no clue I’d own a house in suburbia – in the South, no less. I had big dreams of big cities, something I’m certain I conjured up as pure fiction, inspired by pure fiction. I’ve never been one for the hustle-bustle, and I’m certainly not someone who loves a crowd.
A chronic loner and floater, I never thought I’d have a pack of girlfriends. These lovely women I can contact at any hour of the night and know they’ll be there to laugh with, to cry with, to pray with. Sleepovers that were once dreaded events are now a slice of paradise, a rare escape with people I can lay about with wearing fat pants and know it’s OK to squish together onto a narrow set of stairs to hug each other and sob then pick each other up over side-splitting laughs. Too many miles separate me from my besties, but I know the miles are a tiny step between Point A and Point B. Goodbyes happen too often, but they’re always followed by See-You-Soons.
I didn’t dream of having a husband. I had no idea the magic of having my closest friend by my side in sickness and health, in seeing him smile for no greater reason than knowing that something he did made my day – and having the privilege of flashing that same smile when I’ve done well. I had no idea that a crush could extend past those shy smiles and did-he-look-at-mes. And there is no way I could have pictured what it’s like to have a true partner when struggling through deprivation of basic human needs because you’re too busy trying to meet the needs of the small and helpless.
I didn’t plan on a family of five, and I certainly didn’t in my wildest dreams envision triplets. I was completely blindsided by the constant state of awe I experience. They learn things. They interact with things, with people, with each other, with Rob, with me. They explore their own bodies, the way things feel, like scratching – such a simple thing, but I’ve been stopped in my tracks to watch them learn what it feels like to purposely scratch their arms then mine, to feel what different things their bodies can do. They bend their legs and try to jump, then they actually do it and jump and jump and jump for no reason but because they can.
I don’t know what life would have been like if I’d got what I blindly hoped my future 30-year-old self would have (from living in New York City as an ad executive to living in Hawaii as a marine biologist), but I can’t picture a life without the specific people and experiences I’ve collected on my path to 30.
I’m proud to be rounding out my 30th year on Earth. I don’t do bucket lists or by-this-year checklists, but I’m happy with what I’ve done, where I’ve been and who I’ve loved. I have oodles left to accomplish, but I think I’ve proven my future plans aren’t superior to the surprises that lie ahead.
Bring it on.
I originally posted this on Instagram, but it’s too sweet to not include here on my blog, a place with more easily accessed archives for my viewing pleasure.
Rob’s Mother’s Day gift to me this year was an IP camera in the babies’ room – essentially a security camera we can monitor using computers and mobile devices, aka a cheap way to have a video monitor.*
Watching my girls play over the monitor while we let Toby catch more Z’s. Eleanor begged Callista’s seahorse off her, asking/signing, “P(l)ease?” Callista gave in, & Eleanor set to her Little Mommy game, holding her 2 babies (1 isn’t enough around here!), then carefully arranging them next to each other before covering them with her blanket. “S(l)eeping!” Callista patiently watched & Toby slept on.
Many have asked, “How do they not wake each other?”
Honestly, I think it’s just the magic of multiples or perhaps the magic of sharing a space since the start (though they were technically separated by isolettes, not-close-by-bedspaces and walls before being placed in the same room for the last month of our NICU stay. Since then, they’ve shared a room but never a crib (though they did nap in one pack-n-play for a few months). They don’t often wake each other, especially when they’re truly tired. Someone walking into their room is more likely to wake everyone than one or two awake and happily playing. This is why, if one or two sleep while one or two happily play, we let them be until everyone is awake.
Another question I get is about bed-hopping. So far, we haven’t seen anything close to it. Eleanor has scaled halfway up her crib rails, but I suspect the thin rails of their IKEA Gulliver cribs ($99 cribs-to-toddler-beds, what what!) keep them from trying to climb. That, or no one has mentioned this climbing possibility. Don’t even think about whispering this to them!
*Our Loftek camera runs around $70 on Amazon vs. video monitors that typically cost $250. Back in my baby-registry days, I didn’t want to designate that much money on something I was afraid I’d spend too much time watching rather than getting rest or tasks done around the house. I probably would have watched too much, but I kind of regret not having one. It’s nice that we waited so long, because I had never known about using an IP camera instead of those expensive jobbies back in the day!
Many new parents adopt a parenting method to follow, something that serves as a guidebook or helping hand and aligns with their hopeful philosophies in child rearing.
As a new parent of three at once, I knew no one method would cover three personalities and temperaments, so I more or less ignored it all, planning to parent by the seat of my pants (something most veteran parents say we all end up dong at some point).
As I settle in for the long haul through toddlerhood, I find myself scratching my head a lot, trying to figure out what to do next, how best to establish ground rules everyone understands.
Safety is the first priority. Kind social skills is next. Everything else just sort of happens.
With three at once, I have a hard time letting things slide. So And Ao is jumping on the couch, but he/she isn’t in danger, so it’s OK.
Except So And So’s brother and sister just saw the fun, and now I have three jumping on the couch, begging to bounce off each other and shed blood.
It’s a fine line to walk, letting them explore without it getting out of hand … times three.
Then there’s how to go about disciplining.
Toby is instantly sorry but will go right back and do it again (and be sorry again). He often says, “No, no” as he’s about to break a rule, ultimately telling on himself. Time out in his crib can make him cry or leave him unbothered, usually depending on how tired he is.
Eleanor couldn’t care less about being told no. An attention seeker, she will run to do something her brother or sister just was reprimanded for while looking over her shoulder and waiting for her own reprimand. She’ll smile the whole time until you threaten a time out, then she usually stops. Time outs are torture for her, and her tears usually require a recovery period after she’s been retrieved.
Callista often cries when she’s told no, sometimes because she’s upset but mostly because she doesn’t want to give up what she’s doing wrong. She’s strong and stubborn and has her own ideas of what she should do. Reprimands usually work, but time outs don’t bother her a bit.
Three toddlers, three personalities, millions of opportunities for testing my skills as disciplinarian. Who will win?
With three squirmy toddlers, sitting on the couch can be a daunting task. We’re trying to teach them that we sit on furniture even though it’s bouncy and cushy and an absolutely perfect surface for jumping up and down.
Three. Near each other a lot. Hard floors. Enough hospital bills from our NICU days to keep us satisfied for a while. You see where I’m going.
So when they get rowdy, they get down. It’s working so far because my squirmies aren’t quite tall enough to climb onto the couches and chair on their own, so they’re at our mercy (I’m going to take advantage of that while I can).
Today, I sat with all three. They slowly started forgetting the on-your-bottom rule, and when it got out of hand, we got down.
Eleanor went about her business while Toby and Callista had a side-by-side fit. Toby ended up smacking the top of Callista’s head – not hard, but it certainly wasn’t nice. I sat him down quickly and said, “No, sir! That was not nice! We don’t hit.”
Before I could get the whole reprimand out, Toby flung himself back onto my legs, said, “SAH!” and signed, “Sorry!”
I about fell over.
We’ve been telling them with each accident or incident to tell so-and-so they’re sorry, to give a hug or kiss, and they somewhat comply. Kinda-sorta-not-really.
But apparently Toby’s been listening.
After I praised his apology (it was hard to stop!), I told him to give Callista a kiss. He got up, walked over to Callista, bent down and kissed her right on the lips – and she kissed him back.
I’ll be honest with you, I’ve been afraid of sibling stuff since I found out we were having more than one. An only child, I have no idea about how the whole sibling (let alone multiples!) thing works. I’ve seen hole-in-the-wall, hospital-visit-for-stitches fights, I’ve seen years of not speaking, I’ve seen best friends, mild acquaintances – you sibling types come in all shapes and sizes.
I have no clue how it works, how the dynamics form and how much of it is nature versus nurture. All I can do is pass on the general code of humanity, our beloved Goden Rule – Treat others as you’d like to be treated – and hope the respect translates into some form of sibling super bonding agent.
It was pretty cool today to see the lesson is playing out already.
