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I let my toddlers watch Cops a while back. We were out of town, and for whatever reason our cable wasn’t working. We had a long day, I was tired, the baby was tired, and I couldn’t wrangle my wild stallions any longer. I needed some TV-time to get us to BED time. “Bad Boys, Bad Boys….Watcha gonna do…” that song is still one they love. Luckily they didn’t really understand what was happening, they were just mesmerized by the police lights and sirens and take down. I was desperate. Having multiple little ones is hard work. They all wine and cry at different times, so it feels like no one is happy ever. Its a world of complete chaos, and some days are so fun, while others are so hard.
When you have multiple little ones (mine are four, two and 4 months) there is always some kind of bodily fluid to clean up. One wets the bed, the other has a blow out. I need to wear yellow gloves permanently. The two-year-old is not potty trained, though we’ve attempted a few times, so I have two in diapers. There’s a lot of changing and wipes. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve changed my two-year-old, changed the baby, then immediately had to change the my toddler again, of course before we are trying to get somewhere.
I also have to nurse the baby where ever and however. Just the other day, while letting the older boys play at the YMCA, I had to nurse the baby before we were going to get in the car. I nurse on the spot, cover on, in the middle of the play place. Next to the play place is the gym, where the older kids are playing basketball. Of course, the minute I start feeding the baby, my boys decide to escape to the basketball court, and I do my usual run-and-nurse chase, cover flapping around and one arm holding the baby, the other grabbing my children anywhere I can get a grip.
When you have multiple little ones, there is just this chaotic, constant chatter, messes, mishaps and laughs that encompass your day. I tell myself that I will survive. I will make it through and my little guys won’t be so little anymore. I know that it will get better because my oldest boy is starting to help me. He wants to be my hero, and its so precious.
The two-year-old went to his potty a few times the other day. The baby is already smiling, chattering and recognizing everyone. The days sometimes feel so long, but as you look back, its 5 minutes. My older boys love to smile and talk sweetly to their baby brother, and they want to protect him like little men. I will survive because my little boys are rapidly evolving into big boys. It will get better, and I will wish for them to be little again. I will survive and thrive. I imagine the days when they are capable of putting on their own socks and shoes. The cherry on top will be when there’s no more twisted car seat straps to wrestle with and pull tight. The diapers will be gone and sippy cups thrown away. Don’t worry, you won’t have multiple little ones for very much longer. You’re gonna blink and they will be big, and I’m telling you this because this is what I tell myself everyday when everyone is asleep on top of me, and I’m staring at all the clothes and toys thrown everywhere. I’m trapped in a pile of babies, and I’m trapped in an enormous blessing of healthy children. I will survive. I will survive!
