You know you're the mother of three when...

You know you are the mother of three when you find yourself telling your youngest child to just go outside and pee in the grass real quick because all of the toilets in the house are currently being occupied.

The Talk

Well, Luna and I finally had the talk last month.  I knew the day was coming and though I thought I would dread it, it really wasn't that bad.

Luna stopped nursing.  For good.  Not just for a few days.

I practiced (or should I say my children practiced) self-weaning.  Needless to say, Luna took the longest to wean.  It got to the point when she was nearing her 4th birthday that I would ask her if there was even any milk in there.  She'd nod, all eyelashes and latched on lips, yanking my breast up and down.  She said, "The milk goes into my stomach and then there is a little hole in my stomach so the milk goes..." and then she traced a swirly pattern all over her body while making some sort of "whoowhoowhoo" noise.

Okay, then.

Sometimes she wouldn't nurse for two, three days and I would think, "This is it."  But then she'd ask for mama-milk before bed and she would assure me that there was still milk in there.

Then, one month after her 4th birthday, I realized one day that she hadn't nursed in, like, four days.  Or was it five?  She asked for mama-milk one night and I could tell.  She popped off and I said, "Let me guess.  There is no more mama-milk."  She kind of shrugged, and made some funny faces.  I started to tell her that she will always be my baby, and even if there wasn't any mama-milk she could always snuggle me, and...well, I probably babbled a bit more and I'm pretty sure Luna realized that this talk was more for me than for her because she made some more funny faces, kissed me and went too bed.

When we chant...

Friends visited yesterday and after dinner we took a walk to our neighborhood playground and pond.  Someone was concerned about poison ivy and my husband pointed out the rhyme "Leaves of three, let it be."  Yeah, I know, that's an oldie and everyone knows it. (But in case you didn't, you're welcome)

Then during our walk along the path on the way home, Luna felt compelled to pick up some round, brown object.  I shrieked, "Why would you pick that up?! It might be some kind of poo!" She looked completely confused, probably by my reaction, I'm not that big of a poop-phobe and I usually don't shriek.  Anyway, I tried my mama logic to take advantage of this teachable moment.

"If it's on the ground, and it's brown, it is probably some kind of poo," I explained. It ended up being the casing of some sort of nut, but still.

Then my hilarious husband says, "If it's brown and on the ground, walk around."

So that was that.  Today, I overheard my kids chanting in the pool, "That's not all, that's not all, the baby's drinking alcohol!"

Whatevs.

You know you are the mother of three when...

You know you are the mother of three when...

You find yourself strangely excited by the prospect of cleaning, yes I said cleaning and I'm not even the OCD type, the house for an entire afternoon because your husband has planned to take the children to grandma's.

Yes, I have been looking forward to this afternoon for a day and a half.

What is wrong with me?  "Nothing", say you moms-in-the-know because what you know is that this arrangement will mean no interruptions for, well, hours.  Can that be?

So, yes, I am looking forward to tacking some organizational projects, and even quite a bit of cleaning, and feeling that sense of victory of seeing a project through from beginning to end in one sitting.

Plus, I know where all of the chocolate is hidden.

I have graduated

We had a block party this weekend, and I found myself frequently... how should I put this... well, sitting on my ass.  I mean, I was struck by how much sitting down I was doing.  There was no physical reason for it.  I wasn't injured or sore or in any other way required to take it easy.  But at one point I noticed that while I was sitting and chatting with other sitting moms, there were other moms definitely not sitting.  Other moms were on their feet, on the move.

And I thought to myself, why am I sitting here?

And it wasn't like I was supposed to be doing something per se.  It's not like I forgot to get the limbo dance going or anything like that.

And then it hit me.  The youngest children of the other sitting-with-me moms were in Kindergarten and 2nd grade.  The youngest children of the not-sitting-down moms were toddlers.

My youngest? A freshly turned four.  FOUR!  I no longer have to be up on my feet ready to lunge, reach, grab, dive, intervene, dive-roll, scoop up, snatch up, pick up 95% of the time.

I have graduated!

If baby-face needs to go potty, she will find one and do all that business by herself.  If baby-face wants another juice box she will find me, ask me if she can have one, and then go get one by herself (and you better believe she figured out very quickly how to treat herself to another juice box all by herself).

Baby-face can even bring me a drink or another brownie while I... you know... sit there.

I have graduated too.  Life is good.

on rainy days, we paint

What can I say about Tulip, other than she is the loveliest little flower in the garden. She's happy, and friendly, and has a great sense of humor and appreciation of life. She finds a way to enjoy every minute of every day. Happy birthday my lovely blooming beauty.

Today is her 6th birthday and among other things, she got 10 new bottles of paint.

Tulip's painting. Can you tell what 10 new colors she got?

Luna's painting. Mama, Luna and Tulip going for a walk and defending the world (pink and purple stuff) from a dragon (the blue guy at the top). Pretty typical day for us Saavedra girls.

Wolfie's painting. Ultrabot. Of course.

Just read the first line

"Mama! You better get in here and wipe my butt before Papa does it!" Luna calls from the bathroom.

Yes, it's true.  My husband and I love our children sooooooo much that we knock each other over in the mad dash to the bathroom to be the one and only parent who gets the privilege of wiping butts.

At least, that must be what our children think.  It's pretty darn close to the truth, though.