It's Not Always Kittens and Pancakes

Wow... my little 3 foot personal trainer has really worked my butt off since early Monday morning, both physically and mentally. It's a good thing that after I woke up at the crack of 5:55 am on Monday morning to 6 wide-eyed blue eyes and 3 mouths yelling for something to eat, I went ahead and just put on my ankle brace for my sprained foot and sprained ankle.

(Last week I walked out of the chiropractor with Colin and thought I had two more steps until I reached the curb. I was wrong.) As it is, I had to take three Tylenol just to take the edge off my shoulder pain (chronic and obnoxious).

After staring too long at this pretty little face last night, I was ready to sleep in...

... but my babies have had other plans for me over the last 48 hours.

I am both proud and sad to say that most days I function on 4 hours of sleep, day after day, and I catch up at the end of the week when I only have to wake up with one baby at night on the weekends (Shannon and I split them and each take one when he doesn't have to wake up for work on the weekends). Truthfully, whether either one of us is going to work or staying home, whether Adam goes to school or to Mamie and Grandpa's house or whatever, both of us are on duty, working 24 hours a day. I would be lying if I said that a Red Bull could pull me through that kind of work week on very little sleep. And because I'm still breastfeeding (and supplementing with formula), I'm hungry ALL. THE. TIME. But trying to find time to eat these days is like ... well, I'm just too tired to come up with a good metaphor. Make something up on your own. I'm sure you can manage.

Nevertheless, I got up. I fed somebody and Shannon fed somebody; sadly, I do not remember who.

At least after eating, Colin thought I was hilarious. That helps.

And then after Shannon left for work, Adam and I had a great time making pancakes. That Red Bull had kicked in, and I made the "Supreme Melt in Your Mouth Pancakes" recipe I found on the back of the Bisquick box. They were pretty good. Adam thought so too - he had three huge pancakes. And when I poured syrup on them, he pumped his arm and said, "Yes!" It was almost like Napoleon Dynamite. I don't know where he gets these things.

(Side note - Ms. Jenny, if you're reading, the last two days Adam has said multiple times at random: "No, Ms. Jenny! That's Adam's snack!" It makes me laugh every time... which is probably why he keeps saying it.)

Mixing pancakes...



Watching them cook

Tasting his treat... He doesn't like for me to "break" them (cut them up). (When I do he whines and tries to put it back together -- "no, it's broken!")

But once he tasted them and realized that if I cut them for him he could eat them faster, he let me. Then he ate three big ones.

I put the leftover batter in an old honey container so I can make them again easily, put the bear next to the plate for a picture, and Adam said:

"GO TO BED, Bear! Those are Adam's cancakes!"

After "cancakes, it was time to get the babies dressed and interact. Adam picked out Claire's clothes, and he insisted that they be pink. Then he put on some arm decorations after finding out that they weren't socks. He'll probably hate me for this picture later.

Then, since Claire's head control is so good I let him hold her by himself for the first time with just a little spotting. At first he wanted to multitask. She didn't seem to mind...

But holding babies is harder than it looks...

 Since she kinda squealed at the rough ride, he decided she needed her pacifier. She takes it all like a champ...

 And then... it was naptime. Since they had all woken up at the same time, they all went to sleep at the same time. Adam is a dominating force in this house, so it's not surprising that the babies cat nap most of the day, except from that window from 11 to 3, when they crash just as hard as Adam does. And yesterday, everyone went to sleep at 11 and woke up about 2:30. It was like I got a vacation.

I made the mistake of reveling in my success on facebook.

And then... the earth shook, and the Gods rubbed their hands together mischieviously. And I paid dearly for that nap time victory.

That was the last moment of peace I got  in the last 30 hours.When Adam woke up, he was cranky. And sick. and miserable. And out of control. I tried to distract him with fun things, and this grin with Colin was the last I have seen in a while.

You fly like this.

Colin: "Psst... do you think she knows our secret identities?" Adam: "Nah, she has no clue."

The alternate caption idea to this was Colin saying "one MEEEL-LEON dollars," which gave me a brilliant idea for Dr. Evil and Mini-Me Halloween costumes. Which will probably nag at my homemade Halloween costume desires despite the lack of time I have to accomplish such ambitious activities.

And, we're fading fast... Colin was really enjoying the attention from big brother, too.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. All I know was Adam had to touch everything, cry about everything, and whine or yell as his only form of communication.

Then he did not sleep well because of feeling bad AND night terrors, Claire got off schedule from Colin on feeding, and I slept very little Monday night... again. And at 3 am woke up to a little face breathing heavily and standing next to the bed. I then had a third baby to cuddle with, no room on the bed, and a very difficult time feeding two hungry infants on my left without disturbing the sweating, sick toddler on my right. Then... up at 5:45 again.

But this time, no fun pancakes... Adam went to school, I desperately tried to organize but now have a little girl with a cold, and then a neighbor helped with the twins while I picked up Adam and took him to the Ear, Nose and Throat guy, where he was beyond manageable.

He treated that waiting room like it was his personal jungle gym. He was into everything, loud, and having a very hard time listening. At one point I had to grab him to stop him from running and he plopped down in the middle of the floor and screamed "NO!" and whined. It's like him to have moments like this at home in exhaustion at the end of the day sometimes, but I've never had him do this in public, and it was embarrassing. It didn't help that apparently every parent in there had just one little angel of a 6 month old or two of the most complacent little boys I've ever seen, and the looks of pity were non-existent. The looks of silent disgust and judgement, however, where rampant in that room.

Screw 'em, I say. But he still just flat out threw a tempter tantrum and talked back, and it couldn't be ignored. Let's just say, I was feeling pretty defeated by the time they called us back and this jerk of a doctor came in to basically treat me like I was an idiot, then tell me that my baby needed his "huge" adenoids and "gigantic" tonsils removed and expect me to be surprised or upset. DUH. Of course they need to be taken out... but more on that later.

We left, we got a pizza from CiCi's and I had another little scene to deal with there, and then I came home where a sick Claire and a colicky Colin fussed and yelled some more. Babies were fed, babies were bathed, and I retreated to the bath with a Demerol for my shoulder, a beer for my nerves, and I hid. When I emerged, Shannon had fixed the crying babies, fixed the dirty bottles, and washed the dirty bed sheets. I was recharged to about 20%. But it's better than 5%.

I rarely complain when days get stressful. I hardly see the reason for it. But I would like to be realistic.It's not always cute kittens and melt-in-your-mouth pancakes. Sometimes in life you get snapping turtles and burnt toast.