The Eve of Saint Nicholas

'Tis the Eve of Saint Nicholas and all of the preparations have our three angels revved up like tops about to go ballistic! Perhaps it is my fault. In an effort to help our three year old twins and their one and half year old brother understand what is going on we have been singing St. Nicholas songs for about a month. In addition, they know that he brings chocolates, apples, and oranges...

Today we have hit a new St. Nicholas low. The girls are holding over each other that each and every infraction the other commits will lead an empty boot tomorrow morning. The whining and whinging has hit new levels and my normally curly hair is now straight!

Basically, I think that Holiday overload has crept into our quiet household. Erm...quiet isn't exactly what I would label this mayhem, but let's just say that the decibel levels are out of control. The apples are being pilfered and even the Advent calendar was breached!

So, now holding the fact that St. Nicholas is only a call away has become my desperate plea for the last hour. Sitting here, I am wondering where we went wrong. Was it the light displays we visited? The attempts of sitting on Santa's lap for a wee photo? The gift shopping? I am not sure, but all I know is that Christmas is still over two and a half weeks away and these little munchkins are wound up so much that something may burst. Or implode.

With this mayhem in our happy house, my hubby and I have come up with a three part plan:
1. Stop all talk of Santa in the house.
2. Hide the Advent Calendar and all remaining chocolates - all 5 of them.
3. Take a deep breath, enjoy the moment, imbibe if necessary for the first part of number 3 to be feasible.

So, Happy St. Nicholas Eve. Put out your boots and if you have been very good this year, perhaps St. Nick will leave something for you tonight!

Toilets Are Fun!

What is it about toilets that cause toddlers to want to stick their hands in them and splash like no tomorrow? While responding to an email, and thinking that my three darlings were dancing in the next room to Ernie singing the alphabet, I started to hear a splashy noise. At first I thought that it was simply the song. The CD is new, and I was not listening too carefully.

All of a sudden, with dawning clarity, the origin of the splashity, splashing became crystal clear in my mind. How could I have missed the fact that the door to the bathroom was not actually locked, and actually, there was light pouring from the door. All THREE of my cherubs were arm deep in... TOILET WATER. Let me repeat that: all THREE were ARM deep in TOILET WATER.

After a quick scrub with lots of hot water and soap. Followed by three complete clothes and diaper changes. They are now in their bedrooms waiting for me to calm down - or finish this post, which ever comes first. I have had various requests for snacks, stickers, books, even potty runs... Are they serious?

Toilet training will be the end of me. I blame every gray hair I have found on this time in my life. I guess on the plus side, at least this does not involve a $150 call to Roto Rooter...a story for another day.

Where's the love?

A few days ago, H and C were in the back row of the mom-mobile with their little bro, when they began to discuss who and what they loved. The list went on and on (in no particular order):

• Grammie


• Grampy
• Opa
• Oma
• Tante Beate
• Onkel Axel


• Auntie


• Uncle Larry


• Kellie


• Mu-kel


• Ellen


• Stevie


• Kaitlin


• Janice


• Brother


• Mrs. Cindy


• Ms. Erica


• Dolly


• Elmo


• Tinkerbell


• Dora


• Strawberry Shortcake


• Ribbit (Kermit)


• Doggie (Clifford)


• Playdoh


• Crayons


• Puzzles

Well, you get the point. Suddenly, the back row became extremely quiet. H said, "I love Mama." C looked at her and said, "I love Papa." At a stop light, I looked into the rear view mirror to see H wrinkle up her nose and say, "No, (shaking head) I love Mama. Not Papa." C now followed suit and said, "Well I love Papa," again wrinkling the nose and shaking the head, "I don't love Mama."

What? Wait? What did she just say? Did I not have the worst pain in my entire life and the worst experience of my life having this child, and she does not love me? I am lower than Playdoh?

Where is the love?

Welcome home!

Alright, this entry is tardy. But I thought it was funny, so here we go:

One day in August I had to go on a daytrip to Philadelphia, but was lucky enough to catch an earlier-than-expected flight back to Manchester. I arrived back in our driveway at 8pm - too late for Mr. G, but agents H and C were still awake. They saw me as I pulled in, and jumped up and down in excitement in front of the (outer) glass door. I felt loved and missed.

True to their form they wore nothing but their diapers.

When I walked in the door, they screamed "papa's home, papa's home". Whose heart wouldn't melt?

Then agent C tried to get my attention. "Papa, papa"!!

"Yes" I responded.

Back at me she beamed at said "Papa, I poopy"

Welcome home, I felt....

Calgon, Take Me Away!

Remember that old commercial for Calgon? The one where the mom is looking beyond frazzled and pulling out her hair and she dreams of escaping to a relaxing bath that will make her forget her crew? That very one that I used to laugh at and mock? The very one that I have been chanting for the past forty-eight hours.

I have been pushed beyond my usual limits. My patience is worn thinner than thin - if that is possible. G (and in turn my husband and I) spent the greater part of Sunday at Children's Hospital in Boston because he is having bronchial spasms and is now being treated additionally for a double ear infection.

In addition, he needs to use a nebulizer every four hours, night and day. The poor thing looks very cute with his fishy mask if I may say so. The wonderful nurse, Meredith, was so kind to him and even gave him a parting gift of an Elmo balloon.

So, while I should be thankful that he is not hospitalized and that he does not have pneumonia, I have been pulling out my hair because lovely hubby is in Chicago on a business trip and H and C are both whining and whinging. They want attention, how could my eyes see anything but their two glorious faces? They want Elmo juice (steroid medicine) and Big Bird Juice (the other medicine) and they want to wear the fishy mask and get the facials...

All I can say is: Calgon, take me away!

Computer, Schmomputer

Not too long ago- okay way back in 2004- I was curious to see who was voted out on American Idol, having had missed the previous evening due to some work related event. I innocently logged onto www.AmericanIdol.com, which back then was not the correct address. From my one little goof, the nastiest virus to ever hit the universe overtook my computer rendering it functioning, but the hard drive was shot and needed replacing. A new computer was needed!

My darling hubby decided that he wanted to wait for the much anticipated new Microsoft Windows system, but finally caved into my pleading in December 2005 when it had still not been released. Just in time for Christmas my shiny new computer with flat screen monitor arrived and I was the happiest camper with my new little darling...that is until Tuesday night.

Tuesday was a happy day. My darling was humming along unknowingly about to be victimized. It was about 6 p.m. when H and C decided that the DVD drive is a great place to insert PLAYDOH! The little drawer is now permanently stuck in the partially open, but won't open or close state. So having the super-platinum warranty, I called my friends at Dell.

We are still waiting for the Dell repair person to come to fix this, but the words "You need a new optical drive" are still sending chills up and down my back. When the lovely Dell person asked if I felt comfortable replacing the item by myself, I merely said, "That is why they pay you the big bucks and I majored in literature." He laughed, but I wonder what he went home and told the family/roommate/soul mate. I wonder if yet another idiot on the phone tonight was uttered in exasperation, or did he commiserate with the doings of twin tornadoes?

Hopefully, my little darling will be all repaired by tomorrow.

Am I talking to the wall?

It seems lately since Miss C and Miss H turned the ripe old age of three that answers are no longer part of their conversations. They pretend to not hear me, though when activities are removed from the line up, their earways are suddenly cleared up!

The girls are now in school, going three mornings a week for three hours. It was weird last week just being here with their little brother, but today was a different story. I actually was able to tackle some work that has been piling up! Divine! I will miss them, but having a little bit of life back is so nice.

All three kids are playing nicely together right now. I hold my breath and hope this continues!

Well, more later!