Eating Ice Cream
When you have sisters, you end up with a clip ponytail in your hair
My nanny hours changed last week and I am in the middle of trying to adjust to having Monday and Wednesdays by myself with this pack of wolves I have. I am down to help three days a week which is actually, in reality, probably good for me. In an ideal world I would have a nanny from 7am to 7pm every single day (hey, why not? It is good for everyone. In a realistic world I will have to start pairing down my nanny hours a little since the triplets are turning two this month. The ironic thing about the statement I just made is that I think I may benefit from the help of a nanny now more than ever since they have entered the mobile, verbal, tantrum stage of life.
I really think nannies are an underused commodity in this country. I mean, other cultures have that “village” to raise kids and get help from all kinds of different family and neighborhood sources. Our American culture isn’t structured like that so it is left to a single person who doesn’t work outside the home to grocery shop, cook all meals, clean up after every meal, take kids to and from school and to and from extracurricular activities, take care of homework and organize all school paperwork, while actually taking care of all the kids. We all need nannies a few days a week. Maybe I will write Obama and encourage him to include in his new health care bill a nanny allowance for all moms. With the nanny allowance I guarantee a happier nation.
I digress. Last Monday I was feeling ambitious. It was my first Monday sans Nanny for probably two years and I decided to conquer this new challenge with a positive attitude. I woke up very cheerful and with a zest for triplet plus one motherhood; this is a rare event. I knew I had a crazy morning ahead of me because I had to get all four kids breakfast, get them all dressed, pack Ava’s lunch for school, load the stroller, then load four kids into their car seats and head out to Ava’s piano lesson by 9am. It was all going smoothly so far since I was well prepared the night before with all their clothes laid out. That morning I actually pried my half asleep body out of my ultra comfortable Chatam and Wells bed at 6:30am and took a shower and was prepared for the day by 7am. By 8:45 I had all kids locked and loaded into the minivan and we were headed for piano. I called my sister on the way and told her I was bringing all three little kids into Starbucks and she was dubious about the success of this event. So was I, but I had to do it.
At Starbucks I loaded the little girls into the stroller but I did not buckle them in since we were just going from the parking lot to the inside of Starbucks. This turned out to be a big mistake. I held Preston’s hand instead of putting him in the stroller. This too, was a big mistake. Preston finds it hilarious to make me drag him from one destination to the other by his arm as he laughs hysterically. So here I am pushing a double stroller with one arm and dragging a kid by his arm with the other arm, diaper bag heaved over my shoulder, hoping some charitable soul will at least grab the door for me. As I order our goodies at the counter I turn around and both girls are climbing out of the stroller because I did not secure them in. They look like little monkeys. As I tell them to sit down, and then manually sit them back down in their seats again, they immediately start climbing out. Meanwhile Preston is running amuck shouting out his demands and orders. He knows that there are good things to be had at Starbucks like coffee cake, apple juice, scones and chocolate milk, and by god, he does not want to miss out on that kind of snacking. His English is unintelligible but his point is being made: get me a god damn scone now before I let loose one of my high pitches girl screams. I am literally starting to sweat. I am getting the “glad that isn’t me” stare from moms left and right and the “you have your hands full” comment from the rest of the patrons. I order my stuff quickly and we sit down at a table and I pray for peace since I have in my possession the cinnamon coffee cake. Unfortunately the Woolsey triplets make even more of a scene when apparently Preston wants the entire bag with the coffee cake in it to himself and I am not feeding the girls fast enough either. I buckle the girls up fast, leave my beloved coffee and remaining crumbs of coffee cake and head out the door as fast as I can. I later retrieve my coffee but forget my wallet. I guess we all know what
is most important in my life. A nice lady run out to hand me my wallet and leaves me with a parting “you have your hands full” comment which I never get tired of hearing (ha ha). I was really embarrassed at the end of my Starbucks experience, but it was yet another learning lesson in the mothering of triplets: strap them down and give them raisins before walking into Starbucks.
So I decided Mondays must be structured differently in order for Ava to continue taking piano lessons each Monday. Today I brought the choo choo wagon and the little kids and I went for a walk around the neighborhood where Ava takes her lessons, and then stopped off at the park and the kids went down the slide about 100 times. Well, that was a better idea.
I made it through another day.
Until next time, the mothership is signing off.