more sleep

It’s Sluiter Nation Recruit Wednesday again!  Yay!

 

This week I am super excited to bring you someone I have stalked read for quite awhile but lurked and never commented.  In fact, last May she was at a blogging conference with me, and I was so intimidated by her awesome, that I didn’t introduce myself.  I just stared and thought, “that is really her…like in PERSON!”

Sometime in the past few months she wrote a post that I couldn’t help but comment on.  And include in my weekly Saturday round up of awesome on the internet.  And I tweeted it.  And she tweeted me back.  And we chatted. And…she is AWESOME!  And approachable. And I am clearly a moron for not talking to her a year ago.

And can I use the word “and” again?

Jen has four children…but three of them came out at the same time.  We call those triplets ’round these parts.

She has been SUPER supportive while I navigate having a toddler and a newborn because she has done it.  With THREE infants.  But she never makes me feel dumb for being overwhelmed with only one.

That is why Jen is awesome, people.

Today she is here talking about those cutie pie triplets back when they were teeny tiny.

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One of the best things that we did when the triplets were newborns was hire someone to come into our house and do the midnight feeding every other day.

This God-sent of a person would come to our house at 10:30pm. When she got there Jeff and I would go to bed. She would do the triplet’s midnight feeding, change their diapers, put them back to sleep and then leave. This meant that Jeff and I didn’t have to get up until about 3am for their next feeding.

Jeff and I would get to sleep for about 5 hours in a row!

I know that might not sounds like a lot of sleep but when you are dealing with infant triplets who need to be feed every three hours, 5 hours of sleep in a row is like heaven because on a normal night it is 2 or 3 hours of sleep.

It had been a particularly long day. Hayden showed me the full force of the terrible twos and the triplets were disgruntled and decided that they weren’t going to follow the nice schedule that had been set for them.

At one point in this day, all of us were in tears.

Thank God, that night was one of the nights our babysitter was supposed to come over. When she walked through the door, let’s just say I ran in bed yelling “Hi and thank you” as I went.

The day had beat me up and spit me out so I was asleep as my head hit the pillow.

The sleep was beautiful, deep,and dreamless. It was so good that I actually woke up on my own, totally, not normal for me. I never woke up on my own, it was always too babies crying or a toddler saying, “Mommy?!”

I smiled to myself and lay there in the peace but then I began to wonder…. what was wrong with the triplets? Could it be that they were actually sleeping through the night? Where they going to be miracle babies and at 8 weeks old sleep through the night?

I rolled over to check the baby monitor when I was greeted with the alarmed clock…

4:20am

“HOLY SHIT!” I screamed smacking Jeff dangerously close to man parts. “It’s after 4am. We missed the triplets feeding.”

The baby monitor silently yelled at me. Some how the volume was off but the lights flashed, signaling that my babies were crying.

I threw the covers off and ran out of the room screaming, “Oh my God! My babies!”

I raced up the stairs and busted into the triplets bedroom to hear the hoarse cries and whimpers of my three tiny infants. I bounced back and forth between the three cribs like a chipmunk on crack trying to pat and sooth each baby.

As the baby cries began to ramp up again, I realized I didn’t have any bottles. In my hast, I had run up the stairs without what the kids really wanted… freaking food.

“Jeff! Jeff! Bottles. We need to feed them, we to….” I ran back downstairs almost knocking Jeff over as he climbed up the stairs with three bottles in his hands, warmed and ready to go. The man is nothing but level headed and thank God for that.

I turned around and ran back into their room. Jeff walked in behind me, set the bottles down and picked up Quinn. I scooped up Jake and then Claire and sat down ‘criss-cross applesauce’ on the floor with a baby in positioned on each leg.

With Jake, Quinn and Claire hastily sucking down bottles, my postpartum emotions took over and I began to sob.

“What?” Jeff asked and he began to burp Quinn.

“I am a horrible mother! I let my newborn baby triplets cry for God know how long. They cried so long they are hoarse. What kind of mother does that? Aren’t I suppose to have this 6th sense to hear them and just know? How can I be enough for three babies?” I sobbed as Jake finished his bottle and I lifted him to burp.

Jeff placed Quinn, who had drifted back to sleep, in his crib and took Jake from me to do the same. Claire finished her bottle and let a burp escape her lips so I stood up to place her in her crib.

“I am a horrible mother,” I repeated, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Why did God think it would be a good idea to give me triplets?”

“You are not a horrible, mother.” Jeff said coming up beside me and kissing me on the cheek. “So they cried for a little longer than usual. Crying never killed a baby. And look they are all now happily sleeping”

“But I didn’t sense them. I didn’t feel their need for me…” I cried.

“Yes, you did,” Jeff said, “Sure it was later and they had to cry but when you heard them you ran up here like your ass was on fire. You are a wonderful mother and you are the perfect mother for my children. They and I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

“Are you sure?” I asked as I sniffed and wiped some snot on my sleeve.

“Positive.” Jeff said, “Now can we get a couple hours more sleep?”

I tried to process my emotions, my feelings of being inadequate, Jeff’s words but the only thing my exhausted brain could grab onto was…. more sleep.

Go read some more by Jen.  She rocks.

We’re All Toilet Trained. Almost.

Ok so it’s Wednesday again and that means I have another Sluiter Nation Recruit for you.  Need a reminder about what a Recruit is?  Start here.

So today is a little different.  I have a Recruit.  And she is a blogger, but she is MORE a tweeter than she is a blogger.

In fact, Jen has a few blogs that she claims to ignore.  Her least ignored one is The Martha Project.  I know, I know…some of you who know her from twitter are like, “Jen blogs?”

I have to say that even though she is not an avid blogger, she belongs here as a Recruit for so many reasons.

First of all she is funny.  I mean the things she says will make you spit out whatever is in your mouth at the time…including your own tongue.

She is also super sincere and passionate.  Jen is someone I can trust to tell me the truth, whip me back to reality, and then make my laugh.  Plus she is fiercely devoted to making sure her Gifted and Talented son gets the best education and is not just handed mediocrity because that is the level of the rest of the class.

The teacher in me gives a fist pump and a “hell YES!” whenever I read her education tweets.

And she is funny.

Wait.  Did I say that already?  Well I should remind you of that before you continue.

Set down your coffee and get ready. (and mom, you’ve been warned.)

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I always get a little freaked out about guest posts. I don’t claim to write well, and then I have Katie “recruiting “me. Just look at those other recruits. It’s like a game of “which one of these things is not like the other.” So here I am. I apologize in advance from your regular program of excellent writing.

I don’t have a stockpile of post ideas. I generally wait until something happens and the moon aligns before I actually take the time to do anything more than 140. This time around? It was especially hard. To relate to Katie, I could go the second kid route or even the school route, but neither worked for me. I sort of had an idea and was going to go with it until I was hit with something else.

I was in the kitchen and had to go to the bathroom. I decided to head upstairs for a little (ahem) privacy. As I was climbing up the stairs, it happened.

I pooped my pants.

Again.

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You see I haven’t always pooped my pants and I can’t say that it happens OFTEN. I can say that when you hear the obstetrician say to the nurse after labor:

“Can you hand me another spool of thread?”

It’s not going to be a good thing.

At the time you don’t really know what that even means. Two spools. I just thought

“Well, o.k. Dr. do your job and tighten it up good, I gots me a new baby!”

Life goes on, with no sleep, around the clock feedings, and the need to leave the house. It’s during one of these events that you realize maybe she didn’t tighten “it” up enough.

You start to think this at the local Target. I was out for one of my first trips without the newborn. I could not have been happier to know that I had 1 hr. and 43 minutes to myself until the baby needed to be fed again. I was just grabbing for my purse and opening the door when…

Oops, I just pooped my pants.

Well, that’s odd. Must be the hormones or something.

I then did what any other desperate mother who wanted 1 hour and 43minutes to herself.

I grabbed the baby wipes

Stripped

Cleaned

and threw away everything into a plastic bag right there in the parking lot.

So yeah. I was getting my 1 hr. and 23 minutes any way I could.

I threw my pants back on, rolled that shit into a ball, and threw it all out on my way in.

Surely, Target has this effect on others. There was alone shopping time to be had people.

Like I said, this isn’t a common thing with me. I can count on one hand how many times and I can’t even believe I’m admitting this.

Maybe you can relate maybe you can’t. Either way I’m here to say

I sometimes poop my pants……and that’s ok

I love my children and wouldn’t trade them for anything. Even if I DO have to pack two diaper bags to leave the house**

_______________________________________________

**I don’t really. Swear.

And this is the part of the internet that I love the “ME TOO!” part.

Please, please be at least one other who relates.

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Ok…so admit it.  Who here as pooped a little?  Raise of hands?  We won’t tell.  What is admitted in Sluiter Nation, stays in Sluiter Nation.  Maybe.

Ahem.

So you need to go follow Jen on twitter NOW.  (not on twitter?  You should join JUST to follow Jen.  I am not even kidding).

And I know you want to read some of my favorites from her blog, yes?

Ok, you have to know what Storm Meat is.

You should also read her reasons why she sucks at blogging.

And you need to know that her kids say the darndest things.

So there you have it.  Jen is awesome.

Now.  Go follow her on twitter.

Do it.

Oh, and just admit you pooped your pants.  Come on.

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