But first things first.
Because I am sure you are all dying to know, the potty training progress report:
Charlie: B-
Zach C
Cooper (a.k.a “I-don’t-yike-big-boy-undapants”): D+.
Here’s why potty training is maddening. When we are at home, the boys wear nothing on their bare behinds. For 3-year-olds, pants of any type are forbidden. (You should see the looks I've gotten from repairmen and delivery people who’ve stopped by during the past month). 90% of the time, the boys make it to the potty (except for Cooper, who’d rather poop standing up at the train table than take the time to sit down on the potty sitting 3 feet away. He’s probably worried - and rightfully so -- that someone will steal his trains if he leaves for a second to do his business). But when I put underpants on them, they pee almost instantaneously. I’m talking within a matter of seconds. And they just don’t care.
So anyway, that’s where we’re at with potty training. It may just be that the boys aren’t ready. That said, I’m gearing up for our last hurrah -- a 4-day potty boot camp where we won’t leave the house. We’re just going to practice wearing underpants and peeing in the potty. I’ll probably need to be committed at the end of the 4 days. And the boys probably still won’t be potty trained. And if that is the case, I am giving up until they are 10.
Except for the tantrums and fighting, age 3 is pretty cool. Their imaginations run wild, and you never know what they’re going to say. For example:
Cooper, out loud to all the other kids at the playground the other day: “I have diarrhea! I have diarrhea!” (He did not actually have diarrhea. He just likes the word.)
Charlie, when we were driving around town the other day, pointing at a preschool van passing by: “I see Daddy!! He in dat bus! He not at work - he eating lunch on dat bus!” (??)
Zach, to his brothers while playing at the park: “I gotta go get my computer now and check my email.” And then the trio spent the next 20 minutes “checking their email,” which for some reason, involved pinecones.
Zach, to me when I put him to bed the other night: “Mama, I love you anyway.” (I guess we’ve been reading too much Olivia).The boys spend their days serving me buckets of sand (oops, I mean spaghetti dinners) and imaginary cake for my 3rd birthday. And the other day, I got my hair did by Zach wielding his magical Bob the Builder pliers and a hammer. All good hairdressers use a pliers and a hammer, you know.
So that’s what life’s been like lately. But the craziness of three three-year-olds is not actually while I’ve not been blogging. The real reason is that I’ve been too sick and too tired to stay up past 8:30…… because guess what? I’m pregnant. Pregnant!! A little over three months. The shock of finding out I was pregnant with triplets doesn’t even compare to the shock of this pregnancy. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say, I’m a fertility train wreck, and we weren’t trying or really thinking of trying for a fourth. We just didn’t think it was possible for me to get pregnant without fertility treatments. And now, our miracle Baby 4 is expected to arrive in January. We couldn’t be happier.
Exciting news – but of course, also a bit scary. I’m actually not worried about adding another kiddo to the fray. What I am worried about is going into labor so terrifically prematurely like last time. The good news is that my doctors are optimistic, and see no reason why this shouldn’t be a completely normal pregnancy. Both my OB and the high-risk specialists will monitor me extremely closely starting at week 16. We will keep you all posted of course. We are feeling pretty good about this one.
And yes, we will find out the gender of Baby 4. I’m pretty sure it’s another boy, which would be very cool. A girl would be pretty cool too. I actually don’t care – I just want a big, fat, healthy baby born close to term. I can’t imagine a bigger miracle than that.
Love to all ---
