We are already 1 month into this whole 3 under 3 thing! Things are going way too well at home, suspiciously well in fact. Somehow maternity leave this time around has been completely like a lazy staycation, made up entirely of breastfeeding in front of Netflix or a book, and otherwise lounging in bed eating snacks and enjoying the season’s finest IPAs. Part of it is that I simply don’t have enough limbs to hold the babies all day like a common rookie so they have had to adjust to being plopped in their little pods and chilling on their own. Another part of it is that they still don’t do anything but sleep, and also thankfully haven’t started with any major colicky business like we dealt with when Olivia was a tiny legume, so it’s actually peaceful and relaxing being home with them. Thirdly, we have Olivia back on her regular 3 days a week daycare schedule so I haven’t had to do much in the way of real parenting. Things are definitely more chaotic on the days when little miss Terribly Two graces us with her presence, and although she has adjusted amazingly well to our new normal and her two new sibs, she has been having her moments of major meltdown. And once an entire day of screaming so loudly in the babies’ faces and at me that she was hoarse for days after. But besides that she is fascinated by all things baby and insists that we “change diapers” of various toys and household objects, having us mime putting on diaper rash cream and sniffing and saying PEEEE-YEWWW about imaginary dirty diapers. She also is fond of “helping” give the babies their bottles, giving them somewhat aggressive hugs and kisses, and sits right next to me when I pump and sweetly says “I pet you” and rubs my leg while I milk myself. I’ve survived my first outing solo with all three of my litter and took them all to the library so Olivia could run around like a nutcase in the children’s area. The twins just kicked it in their double stroller with nary a peep. Granted, we only stayed for like an hour because any longer would be absolutely just asking for it, but everything went swimmingly.

Here are some other recent examples of when I’ve tricked people into thinking I am a proper mother:

And Gates has his moments as well:

But by far the best thing Gates does is this hilarious thing where when he changes a baby he holds it up to itself in the mirror afterwards and the baby usually stops crying and looks like it’s just staring at itself and it makes me absolutely cackle each time.

Although I am starting to think the twins look more alike than they first did, Sasha and Olivia definitely share more similarities from when OG was a little bean herself. Namely a giant pumpkin head and bug eyes.

That final picture is hilarious to me, Gates and I swung by Third Space Brewery one afternoon with the twins one – because we love it there and try to support a friend’s business whenever we can, and two – because they were tapping a beer with proceeds going towards fire relief out west and the firefighter’s daughter in me is always deeply affected by the tragedy of fire destruction so when presented with an opportunity to help people via drinking beer SIGN ME UP.

Anyway, as I was snapping a photo of Spencer and Sasha enjoying their first trip to the brewery I had a little flash of deja vu to the first time we took Olivia to the same brewery 2 years ago:

Same hat, same head tilt, same little squish face! Uncanny.

Spencer so far is sticking with his grumpy old man look which I find completely endearing, and don’t tell the others but he is definitely my favorite kid right now. A little bit has to do with his totally chill attitude, even though he has plenty to be mad about. This kid projectile voms out his nose after every feed and doesn’t even make a peep, where his sister doesn’t seem to have any spitty issues yet acts like a regular Regan MacNeil for no apparent reason, going absolutely berserk and shrieky and frantic like a little demon whenever the mood strikes her. I shouldn’t be surprised about my fondness for him, however, as I have had a long standing theory about moms and sons that I like to call The Motherboy Theory.

Essentially, I theorize that when a mama becomes a mama to a little girl her heart breaks a little bit because she knows instantly that the world (at least this current messed up world) can be a tad bit terrible with the way that it treats women and that the very best thing she can do for her daughter is teach her to be strong and independent, and to take zero shit from anyone. But what that entails a little bit is being perhaps a fair bit tougher on her than her instinct says to be, and to helping her learn to shake it off and rub some dirt in in it, and not to coddle her and to also demand that people recognize her for more than her gorgeous little face and big beautiful eyes. At least this is how I have felt since the second Olivia came out into the world and was a she vs a he, and I just remember crying a little bit out of fear for the potential for the terrible parts of this world taking advantage of her or grabbing her by her p*ssy, or paying her less than her male counterparts, or having to deal with sexual harassment and cruel jokes and being acutely aware of the unintentional sexual overtness of her body the second that puberty hits in a way that most men will never understand. And then days after she was born a self-proclaimed and proud p*ssy grabber became the head of our country and my resolve to help my daughter achieve every thing she could ever dream to achieve be possible became even stronger and I wept the entire day after hearing these words from someone who maybe could have made this country a little bit safer and a little bit kinder for all of us, but especially for us girls:

And then I moved forward with a parenting style that was more “let it bleed” and much less “kiss the boo-boos”. Although of course I kiss the boo-boos when asked. BUT, over my many, many years of parenting experience (kidding, obviously) I began to notice a distinct difference in the way I interacted with Olivia vs the way my friends with little boys interacted. Namely – the mamas with the little boys that we knew seemed to be a lot more mothering and snuggling and protective and cautious and, well, attached than I was with Olivia. Not that we aren’t attached too, just in a very different way. For instance, lots of the boy moms breastfed for longer and were terribly sad when breastfeeding was done, some of them co-slept for longer or still co-sleep with their toddlers and totally enjoy the sticky little octopus hands snaking around them in the middle of the night. Many of them were hesitant to leave their sons with others, and took months or even years to feel comfortable enough to send them overnight somewhere. Where I felt like I sort of just pushed infant Olivia off the boob and the bed and onto strangers and was like Ok kid figure it out, don’t call unless you’re dead. I thought for a long time that maybe it was because I wasn’t very maternal at my core, or because I was genuinely just selfish and wanted time to myself back, or maybe I was struggling with postpartum depression and that was hindering me making that super obsessed bond with my child that many of my friends seemed to have with their kids and while now I think that all of those reasons are also a little bit a part of what became my parenting style, I really think that at the core it is Motherboy. Because it’s a whole different ball game with boys. Boys are going to run the world and they are going to know it by the time they are in preschool. Boys are going to get the better jobs with the higher pay and get to have the family and kids without worrying about the mere existence of a little baby affecting their careers, boys are going to get jobs and never question if they were given the chance because of their cleavage, boys are going to get to dry hump unconscious girls next to dumpsters and be given a slap on the wrist, boys are going to take advantage of drunk girls at fraternity parties and still get elected to the Supreme Court, boys are going to get to brag to the world about how they can take and touch whatever they want from women and still get elected President of the United States. And obviously I hope that our own little boys won’t be complete entitled dicks and that ours will be some of the good ones, but we don’t have to worry about our little boys the way we need to worry about our little girls. And so, Motherboy. You don’t need to toughen your little boys up. You don’t have to worry about the world chewing them up and spitting them out and taking photos up their skirts while they do it. They are going to get everything they ever wanted handed to them. So we get to just love them. And maybe smother them with that love. And who knows how this will all evolve and change as my kids become people and aren’t just little acorns, but for now I’m going to enjoy Motherboy-ing the living daylights out of my little boy.

We’ve been getting into the holiday spirit – St. Nick came and brought  the children snackies and scratch offs, we posed the Gates cousins in front of the tree, we met Santa (in a bar), we wore Christmas jammies, and of course wrapped the babies in cords.

Hoping to make it up to Abi’s Christmas day, because so far the babes get totally zonked when in their carseats so all we will need to worry about on the drive is bad weather and Olivia bashing them with toys or trying to force feed them raisins. Ho ho ho!

A few more snapshots from a day in the life:

We totally lucked out when a friend of mine mentioned that her friend was building her photography portfolio and asked if we were interested in having her take some pics for us in the hospital free of charge. Hello, have you met me? My middle name is FREE SAMPLE. Sign me up! We got the photos back a few weeks later and they are absolutely gorgeous:

That’s not something I would have thought to arrange so I am so glad that it plopped into our laps. Check out her website, her name is Megan and obviously she was fabulous. https://underthewillow.photography/

Hope everyone is having as much fun as we are this December!

And finally:

PS WOW if you made it through all those pictures and babbling and are still reading I am super impressed. I’m not even still reading this and I’m writing it. Anyway just so you don’t think it’s all peaches and cream over here in the land of too many offspring, here is a nice picture that captures the true spirit of the littles:

And since I just physically am incapable of meeting the needs of every breathing thing that resides in my house at the same time I have started using a very detailed chart that helps me track who is getting my first attention when more than one is fussing, and then I just cycle through so everyone gets a fair turn in an orderly fashion. It’s truly very simple, and more parents should look to me as a glowing example of taking the very best care of their family.

LOL KIDDING I just reach out and bat at whichever one is closest to me during crank time and then shove either a bagel, a boob, a bone, or a beer into their mouths (depending on age and species) and pray that they shush soon.