Facebook much?

So, twice a day you will find me on Facebook. Naptime & bedtime. After the books are read and the potty run is made, I sit on a comfy chair in Macy's room and say things like, "please, stop kicking the wall," "it's time to be quiet," and "please, get back in your bed." She thrashes around on her bed, I'm guessing, because she knows if she stops moving her body will succumb to sleep. This is all made more bearable by wireless internet. So, I see what the people who haven't annoyed me enough to be hidden are up to, and I read up on HuffPo. .

For something that's been around like 1/6 of my life, Facebook creeps into my thoughts often. Someone says something amusing in an e-mail to me, and I try to "like it. A friend's blog has a picture of my kids, and I want to tag it. I want to be able to comment on someone's so true post

about how easy one kid is, and I get flustered having to do the verification to leave a comment (I am really bad at that, it's like those 3D pictures at the mall in high school I could never see...)

Isn't it funny how if I told high school me all the things I could do online I might be pretty impressed (might, computers weren't really that cool to me...), but now if it is running slow, I am so annoyed I might not even go and read it. Technology is a funny thing. Almost as funny as the ridiculous positions Macy finally falls asleep in...

3 in 3

Claire's almost 4. Besides her going off to 4K (sniff, sniff), I will have stop saying my "I have three kids three & under" tagline, or will I?





At church this week a grandmotherly woman told me she had "6 kids in 6 years". Touche, old lady you have doubled me. I was thinking, I could start saying I had three kids in three years. Nice ring to it. I am not sure what this will get me, a medal, or say, a job when Piper's off to school? Probably not.

It got me thinking that mommy bragging seems to have no expiration date. I can't decide if it's really annoying (more likely), or if these bragging rights are justified. When I was in labor with Piper the woman admitting me told me she had some 4, 5, 6 children all natural births without meds. I didn't have much to respond because I wasn't really in the chatty mood and was about to have my third child sans epidural on her chair. (She was darn fast, though.) But after the fact I wondered if her colleagues in admission get sick of her telling every laboring woman that. I liked the you can do it attitude, but are her co-workers like, "your kids are 40, shut up!"

So in the spirit of bragging, I found a different yogurt recipe, and I rocked it. My kids love it more than Stonyfield (probably because they get to add honey...) Well, the recipe is from my friend Amy who pretty much has my family plus twins. So, maybe my fear with bragging should also be, there always some woman with more kids doing more!

Unless the girls turn out to be doctors like they say, then I will brag. But, I might be getting ahead of myself since Claire might be a farmer, life guard or a doctor.

The Help

I have heard mothers complain about onlookers that make comments like, "you've got your hands full." I never really understood why that bothered them. People would say it to me, and I heartily agreed. Yep, lady, lots going on here.





But lately I kind of see how it's annoying. Maybe it insinuates that you aren't juggling it all, but you have an excuse because you have three kids three and under. The part I start to hear is, you are not handling this well.





I've been home alone with the girls since Friday. It has been going better than even I expected. (and really, I think how I handle things is to keep expectations low, really low - like if one kid has a meltdown that's better than two kids having a meltdown, right?). My mom seems to be under the incorrect assumption that I need company (I am loving watching hulu and staying up late) and her assistance. Oh, I don't get me wrong, I do need her assistance. She took Claire & Macy on Saturday night, awesome, and she is coming over tomorrow. But I explicitly told her I did not need her to come today. She comes anyway. During. Naptime. Spoils Claire's nap by "checking on her." I know she is trying to be helpful. I know this makes me look ungrateful. Can she not give me the satisfaction of doing it alone one day? On Sunday she really fought to let me buy my dad lunch - on Father's Day!

That's the counter-intuitive thing, sometimes it's hard to receive help because kids are better alone with me. Help sometimes gets them too excited. Help sometimes lets them stay up longer and throws off the routine. Help is often convinced a hyper kid isn't a tired kid by a really tired kid.

But, my mom had a good point. You get what you pay for. And, the kids do love their ga-ma and bumpa. And, my parents do make the most delicious homemade ice cream...

Picture my husband with a lightbulb overhead

The only time the inability to breastfeed is handy is in the husband helping department. I have seen enough of my friend's husbands dump a crying baby on their wife's lap lamenting the baby must be hungry. If Bob thinks the baby is hungry, he can give her a bottle. (And seriously, there are other ways to soothe babies!)

When Claire was born, after my 12 weeks of maternity leave, Bob stayed home for 6 weeks with her. Plus, he had her during the summer while I worked. It made him way more comfortable around babies and appreciative.

I really like being home. My main gripe is the cleaning. It never ends. The dishes never end. I have been saying this all school year. And, when Bob's summer break started I was definitely feeling the need for cleaning skyrocketing. He's a slob.

This past week I have been leaving Bob with the girls a bit to prepare for the week of single motherhood while he is on vacation. He says to me, "you know, what I was doing the other day that isn't that even that annoying, dishes. All I ever do it dishes!" I was like, "Amen!"

It's kind of like a natural consequence. I can tell the girls, "you won't like it, it's spicy" until I am blue in the face, or I can let them try it and & tell me that it's too spicy and they don't like it.

Because if I had a quarter for every time I told Bob how the dishes never end and I spend my entire day in the kitchen serving snacks and meals, then we could pay some poor sucker to wash dishes and load the dishwasher! But hearing him say it was priceless.

For the love of God, please be nice to your sister!

It's been a rough week for me at Chateau Lemke. I got a urinary tract infection. Yeah, too much information, I know. But seriously, haven't I been through enough? In the spirit of TMI, the hemorrhoids from pushing out the 9 pound 3 ounce baby haven't been healed long enough for this to be fair. On top of that, after 5 weeks on a 1,500 calorie diet I have lost one pound. They have ruled out a thyroid problem. The doctor recommended 1,200 calories a day. Someone needs to invent calorie-free beer.

But, the saddest thing of my week was when Claire was mean to her sister. Sure, they bicker over toys incessantly. I am used to this. But, Claire started summer school this week. Maybe that change is throwing her off a bit. I got a glimpse of her nastiness earlier in the week when she was playing with the Nursing Nina cat. Mama cat has magnetic nipples and three little kittens that latch on. Claire had a random orange cat not part of the set. She was telling me the Mama was the Mama, the baby was the baby, and she kind of wondered what the orange cat was. I suggested the orange cat was the older sister. She liked this idea. And then proceeded to have the big sister cat drink all the mama's milk and laugh & tease the baby that she drank all the milk. I don't think you need to be a psychologist to read into that a bit...

So later in the week it's bedtime. Our typical routine of late is Bob puts Claire to bed, and I put Macy to bed at the same time. Claire asked for me. So, I suggested, well, let's read our books together and then separate. Macy loved this idea; Claire not so much. By then, Claire decided she wanted just Bob to read to her and Macy was not invited. Macy was devastated. Sometimes, I think she cries about something when tired and forgets what she is crying about. Not this. She was inconsolable. She was sitting on the rug outside Claire's door crying, crying, crying. She could not be distracted or redirected. Finally, Bob talked Claire into letting Macy in

for the second book - probably because Claire couldn't hear the story over the wailing. Macy was so happy. She hopped into Claire's bed, was all smiles. After the book, she told Claire she loved her and kissed her. Claire didn't reciprocate. It broke my heart seeing Macy swoon all over Claire, and Claire be a jerk. I can't force her to be nice. I just need to keep being nice for an example, but, it's not easy when she acts like a major a-hole.

Macy will be ok. I don't think she noticed the cold shoulder treatment. She was just pumped to read one story with her big sister. And, I have a feeling a little someone will be looking up to Macy with the same reverence....

We're blowing her mind

The other day I went to a local babywear's group meeting. Piper is a big one, and she only likes to face outwards when awake. She will face in when sleeping, but she is sleeping less and less. I wanted to see what other options might be out there. I had heard bad things about the crotch dangler baby carriers, but I had thought it was all physical. (and seriously how much time would a kid be in a Bjorn to have such effects?). A woman told me there is some argument that babies shouldn't face out because it is too much stimuli. I felt like a freak (already a pariah with my bottle), but I swear Piper likes to look out at her sisters. Piper is smiling. I can't read minds, but she seems quite happy, I swear.





The woman equated facing outward (rather than at my sweaty cleavage) to a newborn watching television. The infant can't process the images. I wasn't sure I was buying it, but was I wrong? This hippy had a pretty mellow and happy baby... Surprisingly, Bob was the voice of reason on this when I reported back. He said something to the effect of, "it's not like your sprinting through a fun house, it's life she is looking at!"





Either way, I'm pretty sure she is too little to be pushed on her outside swing. That's probably blowing her mind, but, man, everyone got a kick out of it...

Mortified

The only good thing about Claire telling me twice this morning in her megaphone voice that "Her is FAT!" is that it reminded me that my friend Katie's son said, "What's that fat chick's problem?" at McDonald's once.

Seriously, the word "fat" is not even in our lexicon!