I realized today why I’m struggling so much with blogging lately.
I’m happy.
No, I’ll try that again. I’m happy! Exclamation point!
I blossomed as a writer when my thoughts were full of angst – from infertility through a high risk pregnancy and into life with three tiny preemies. My raw, painful feelings provided a tasty snack for my inner muse, and I was finally able to just write.
Now, life is … well, happy. It isn’t easy. It isn’t total bliss. I have moments, days, strings of days when I’m on edge more than I’d like, but when the dust settles and that hump is crossed, I’m happy again.
I don’t know how to write about happiness. It’s a pathetic problem to have, I know. Pin a rose on my nose! But I miss writing. I want to find a happy snack that’ll satiate my muse. I’m having a hard time picturing her as anything but a fat couch potato who refuses anything but junk food.
Hey, Muse! Try some broccoli for a change! Junky feelings aren’t the only feelings that should produce good writing from me. EAT. YOUR. VEGGIES.
A year ago, I dressed the babies in their Dad-centric onesies and posed them the best I could. The image would become part of a birthday gift for Rob, and it was hilarious trying to get my three tiny newborns (their adjusted age hadn’t quite hit one month even though they were actually almost four months old) posed and camera-ready. I couldn’t get them all to even have their heads in one direction, much less their eyes focusing in somewhat the same spot! Their newborn-size clothes were laughably huge on them (Circo onesies never fit my kids), and their pants only fit around their fluffy cloth diapers.
They were so obviously premature babies.
This year, they’re toddling around the backyard, watching and helping Daddy put up our fence. They’ve eaten dirt and carry around heisted milk cartons from the recycling bin. They love pointing out planes in the sky and are fascinated by all the mysterious noises of the outside world.
I still can’t get them to look in one direction.
They know their cues. We say, “It’s nap/bedtime! Let’s walk to bed!” and they’re at the gate to the kitchen, waiting to be set free. Most of the time, they march, one, two, three, directly to their room. Other times, we have to retrieve one or two who have ventured off the beaten path.
Toby and Eleanor race to grab the iPod (my 3rd gen Nano) from the dock, Callista walks right into the (no-door) closet, and everyone needs to check to see if Rocky is snoozing on the closet shelf, “Hiiiii!” says Eleanor.
We return to the proper cribs blankets and soothe-and-glow seahorses that were either swapped between cribs or tossed onto the floor. Then, one by one, we deliver kisses, wishes for good dreams and I Love Yous before depositing three little loves in their beds. The curtains are pulled, the iPod is redocked (our white noise machine), the lights go out, and we part until next time.
The UPS man delivered ETC’s first shoes today.
Yes, I’m the mom who waited till her babies were 15 months old before deciding they should probably wear shoes.
1. I don’t think it’s any state secret that podiatrists recommend kids go barefoot as much as possible when learning to walk. Muscle development, learning to balance, yada yada yada – there’s a host of important reasons the all-knowing They site for the benefits of bare feet.
2. We’re at home most of the time. They learned to walk during RSV/cold/flu/brrrr season, so they’re really only in our house.
3. Triplets. Six feet. SAHM. Yeah, we don’t really do stuff just for looks around here. Shoes don’t complete an outfit, they break the bank. I wanted to hold off as long as possible.
Winter never really came to NC this year, and Rob is outside working on installing a fence in our backyard as I type. My kiddos are itching to explore their backyard, and it won’t be long before we venture into public again where they’ll surely want to walk on their own thankyouverymuch.
I waited through some good sales, hoping to find a magical deal at a big consignment sale. No dice. Beautiful weather and the tail end of See Kai Run’s (spendy shoes, but good shoes are well worth it to us while they’re still developing) winter sale finally tipped the scale and convinced me it was time.
$82 later ($22/pair plus $12 in socks so I didn’t have to pay $9 shipping), my kids have their first shoes.
I just hope they like them. And they fit. Of course those clearance sales don’t allow returns. Jerks!
Rob is presenting on behalf of the March of Dimes Thursday for managers of a local grocery store chain. My contribution was to assemble a collection of photos to illustrate our introduction to preemies. Some images and videos are hard to see, but some are absolutely swoonworthy.
I’ve had friends with preemies in the past, ladies who I’ve come to know through varies online communities. I’d seen photos of the tiniest babies and was fairly prepared to see the equipment that comes with tiny, premature babies.
What took me completely off guard was touching my preemies. Listening to them.
While I obviously can’t fully illustrate what they felt like (lanugo – soft, downy hair that grows in utero – remains the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and you wouldn’t think you can tell just how thin and fragile their skin is, but you totally can), video makes it easy to share how they sounded.
I shot this video from my wheelchair the day after giving birth. Rob was participating in Eleanor’s care session for the first time, and like a good preemie, she was pretty upset that she was being fussed with.
Please consider donating to our March for Babies team. We want to help more families have healthy babies!
p.s. Does anyone know where I can find that daisy fabric? I will always think of it when I think of Eleanor’s isolette days.
