Colorful conversations

What up?  Early this week, woo!

Here are a few things overheard in our family the last couple of days:

"Why is Magnus crying, Axel?"
"Well, I think he probably just hit himself."

"No, Axel, you cannot use the iPad for a plate."

"We always wear underwear at the dinner table."

Near the kitchen utensils in Target. . .
 "Look, Mama, knives for kids."
"They do not make knives for kids."
"But they are colorful, and that yellow one is just my size."
"They do not make knives for kids!"
"Why?"

Eero has recovered from his ear infection, so we're in good shape healthwise again.  We've finally got them eating rice cereal and baby food, and it's funny how they all take it differently.  Eero opens his mouth wide and leans into the spoon.  Rex licks the spoon like a dog; it never really makes it in his mouth, so a lot ends up on his chin and bib.  Magnus is not really interested in baby food yet, but loves to suck on pickles.  We've realized that, behaviorly, he is the most similar to Axel, so it will be interesting to see if he continues to follow that path as he grows.  Axel never got into baby food, and pretty much went right to cubes of cheese.

We've got a couple of seats that clip on to the island and they can sit in there and play and watch the activity in the kitchen.  May need one more, because that seems to keep them happy for quite awhile.  I leave them in the living room to play, but pretty soon they're crying because they don't know where I am.  Actually, sometimes it's because one is trying to pull the other's face off, or hitting someone with a rattle.  But sometimes not.

Here's my column for the week, and some pictures. . .

Not a quality image, but it's telling of the activity in our house - someone is sleeping and someone else is bugging him. . .

Magnus cannot be left alone in a bouncy chair, because in about two seconds he's flipped to his tummy.  He doesn't mind this, but has almost flopped out the top a few times, even when he's buckled.

Here is Rex's fuzzy head.

Jesse is hosting a panel discussion with E, Rexy, and Mags.

Again, kind of a fuzzy shot, but you can see Eero's starting-to-curl fuzz, and Rex's happy chubby face.  Love it.

Feeding the Masses

                We have a variety of eating habits at our house.  I grew up with a mom who didn’t enjoy cooking, though everything she made was good.  It wasn’t a matter of whether or not she was capable of decent cooking; she just didn’t care to do it very much.  She prepared simple meals that she knew we would eat.  We were never made to eat our vegetables or anything else we didn’t like.

My dad grew up in a family of nine children where they ate what was presented to them or they didn’t eat.  There was not much he didn’t like and so eating at our house was probably a huge disappointment for him (spaghetti again?).  Luckily, in that regard, he was an over-the-road truck driver who spent a lot of time away from home, regularly choosing for himself more satisfying meals.

On top of my limited experience with a variety of food, I have a texture issue.  There are many things that have a fine flavor, but I cannot tolerate the way they feel in my mouth, e.g. mushrooms, peas, Mike & Ike’s, etc.  This is a point of contention with my husband and my outlaws, but I just can’t help it.  Wouldn’t my life be easier if I loved all food?  I wish I did.  At the very least I wouldn’t have to have that conversation every time I passed over the cooked carrots during a Nelson family meal.

I have become much more adventurous as I’ve aged, and though I will probably never eat certain things I’ve developed some new favorites by keeping an open mind.  For the first 20 years of my life I thought I didn’t like salad.  Turns out I don’t like Ranch or French dressings, the only kinds available in my fridge as a child.  I love Thousand Island, Italian, and Caesar especially.  I just needed to suck it up and be open to possibilities.

Jesse eats like my dad, because a wide range of food was offered to him at a young age.  He adores chow Mein, chili loaded with veggies, and every kind of fluffy marshmallow salad available at a big church potluck.  Aside from marshmallow fluff, he does not have a big sweet tooth, unlike me.  The first time I ate dinner with his family, on his birthday, he turned down a piece of his own birthday cake.  I told him then I didn’t think it would work out between us.  Shows what little I know . . .

In spite of our different tastes we manage to find things that will please us both.  I pretend I don’t see the celery in the soup, which I put in because Jesse (and now Axel) loves it.  We have peas on the side of chicken a la king and he mixes them in the sauce on his own plate.  Homemade pizza works great, as each person adorns his/her side with desired toppings.  A lover of spicy things, I make enchiladas with mild sauce instead of hot so everyone else will eat them.

And now we have Axel and three more little boys.  I don’t even want to think about the amount of food we will need on the table in about 15 years.  But right now we need to make sure all our boys are given the opportunity to try various cuisines. 

It’s working well so far with the Hurricane (who deserves his nickname at the dinner table as much as the rest of his life – his plate, the table, and the floor are a complete path of destruction.)  I cannot honestly name anything that Axel will not eat.  He devours vegetables and fruits of all kinds.  If he sees something new, he doesn’t scrunch his nose at it.  He grabs it and asks what it is, and before we can answer he’s taken a bite.  He’s not always thrilled with it, but his willingness to try it is almost inspiring.

When we go out for pizza, Axel picks off the olives so he can eat them first.  Though our garden was somewhat neglected this year, we did get some crop.  A person would think we were growing candy out there, the way our oldest boy bolts outside to have fresh green beans and tomatoes on the spot, whether or not they have dirt on them.  The other night he was very upset that Jesse ate all the beans at dinner, because he wanted more. 

I have to believe that his enthusiasm for trying and eating all kinds of foods, in spite of my limited palette, is credited to our giving him things without bias and letting him make his own decisions regarding his likes and dislikes.  This has all come to light as we’ve started feeding our littlest boys their baby cereals and pureed fruits and vegetables.  I’ve began to wonder, in addition to how tall they’ll be and what they’ll be when they grow up, what kinds of eaters they will be.  For their sake I hope they are like their dad, or dinners with their outlaws could be brutal.

I can't think of a good title. I'm tired.

I confused my mother last week by posting my column and a seperate post. . . she didn't see the second one.  Now I will just type a little here and paste my column into the end.  It's occurred to me as I write for hte newspaper that I bring up things I've already written here, so if it's repetitive to the loyal readers of my mediocrity I apologize. . .

 

I don't have the camera handy, but got a couple of good pictures of the little guys today, so I'll try to load them on here in the next day or so.  They're really growing up!  Their hair is getting thicker, and that fascinates me because it's all so different.  Rex has peach fuzz but it's long and thick, so it's extra fuzzy.  Eero has smooth short hair, and I'm guessing it could be curly.  Magnus has long fine hair in a bit of a mohawk.  His aunty Elsa put some product in it one day and it was hilarious - I'll do that again and take a picture this time, because it's almost unbelievable how hawk-ish it is.

 

Mags has two teeth and the rest have none.  When friends had babies very near Axel's birthdays we checked on each other's progress and development, and they all had similar schedules.  It's so interesting to carefully monitor three babies who were born at once of the same mother and father, and how different they can be.  Someone wondered to me if we had them one at a time, would they be like this?  As in Eero being blonde and chatty, Rex being a flirty chunk, and Magnus being a wiggly little guy?  I wonder, too. . .

 

I'm going to bed.  Eero had another ear infection this week (a bad one) so we are way behind on sleep in our family.  Column follows. . .

 

Hide the Sharpies

 

As you may have guessed, our house is a disaster much of the time.  I wish I could say we like it that way but it’s just another thing that’s out of our control.  Even if I do get the house picked up, the Hurricane blows through again while I’m tending to the Tropical Storms.  I may start referring to Eero, Rex, and Magnus as tropical storms . . . they have not yet been upgraded to full blown hurricane status.

 

One of Axel’s favorite indoor activities is to remove all the cushions from our sectional (thirteen in all, plus throw pillows) and pile them on the floor in what he calls a “cushion patch.”  We think this is derived from Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin to rise out of the pumpkin patch.  There was a time when he would only sit in the cushion patch in his underwear so I don’t quite understand the rules of this particular patch.  If you’re at our house and he asks you to play in the cushion patch, the pants-optional is your call.

 

On Sunday we thought we’d stop at a pumpkin patch and pick up a couple pumpkins for our porch steps.  Lately Ax has developed a fascination with bats, and seeing bats and pumpkins together in Halloween ads he wondered if there would be any bats in this pumpkin patch.  I told him I didn’t think so, to which he answered, “Well then maybe after this we should go to the bat patch.”

 

I would love to know how the three-year old mind works to arrive at the notion that there exists a place called a bat patch.  It’s clearly a place that has bats and a person who wants to find bats (whoever that is, aside from Axel) just goes there.  If only it were that easy!  For quite a while now our oldest boy has been developing a wild imagination and is quite the story teller, mostly harmless tales.  When I asked him how he got that big bruise on his leg, he thought his great-grandpa Winston probably threw a rock at him.  Even if Grandpa Winston was a rock-slinger, Axel hadn’t seen him for several weeks so that was not the case.  I have no idea how he came up with that.

 

It’s not just story-telling, though.  He runs up and down the hallway with a flyswatter between his legs, telling us he’s a witch flying on his broom.  When I got up to use the bathroom he told me to get on his airplane and he would fly me there.  He walked next to me the whole way making airplane noises and landed me safely at the bathroom, telling me the door was open and I had to get out because his plane had to take off again.  He figured out that if he plugs his ears in the shower it sounds like a carwash – try it, it actually does!  Now he walks back and forth under the shower spray pretending he’s a car and the shower is a carwash.  As long as his fingernails get clean, I don’t care!

 

Except when getting clean in the shower he’s usually making a mess with his creativity and wonderment.  He once asked if he could dry his hair with the hairdryer, which usually means he wants to blow stuff around with it.  This time he pointed it in a potted plant and blew the dirt everywhere.  Who would ever think of that?  I did not see that coming.

 

A couple weeks ago he wanted to paint me a picture, and when I went upstairs to get something he did paint that picture – on the window.  Last year he picked up a blue Sharpie that someone (not Jesse or I – we know better) left lying around and walked up and down with it on the keys of our 85-year old piano.  Except for Sharpies, we only buy washable paints and markers.

 

And here we are with three more potential hurricanes, born of the same blood and surely hiding the same mischief behind their now precious faces.  What could possibly be in store for us over the next several years?  Our only hope is that they use their powers for good and not evil.  When we decided not to find out if our second child was a boy or a girl, we figured whatever it was could not be worse than Axel.  That’s not true.  Three Axels would be worse.  Hide the Sharpies.

 

Visit www.threebuns.blogspot.com for photos and more of our crazy life.

The grossest thing you'll ever love - Banner column #2

The Grossest Thing You’ll Ever Love

Most experienced parents have product recommendations for expectant mothers and fathers – a must-have for surviving their new roles as primary caretakers of a baby (babies, in our case).  We’ve tried a number of these things, trusting the advice of friends and family who surely knew what they were talking about.  

Of course not all things have worked for us, as each family life requires unique innovations.  But some have become staples in our collection of must-have baby gear:  a chamois crib sheet from Pottery Barn, a dishwasher basket for bottle parts.  I originally scoffed at the idea of using a hands-free carrier, such as a Baby Bjorn; something about them reminded me of monkeys, and I’m not especially fond of monkeys.  We now own two. 

Not all the gadgets that make our life with three babies easier were recommended to us by people we know.  We’ve discovered a few on our own through a “why not? Let’s try it” attitude.  Sometimes we unexpectedly happen upon things in stores and bring them home, unaware of how much we needed them before.

Sometimes I need something and don’t know what it is or where to find it, and that’s when I hit Amazon.com.  It’s one of my happy places.  There I have searched for and purchased a huge variety of essentials, like detergent and baby bottles, as well as unnecessary items – from candy cigarettes to a ukulele, and a carrying case for said ukulele.  Presently, there is not a lot of extra time to continue my musical studies . . .

A couple weeks ago we started having some runny baby noses here, but seemed to be without any of the seven bulb aspirators sent home with us from the hospital.  Where these things go I can’t say, but I’m thinking it has something to do with a certain live-in hurricane.  I went to another happy place, Target, and picked one up.  It was a piece of junk.  I didn’t know there were levels of quality when it came to nasal aspirators, but, lesson learned, I checked on Amazon.

There are not only levels of quality but also different types of aspirators, and I am thrilled to tell you that we have discovered the most brilliant one out there.  It is called Nosefrida, the Snotsucker.  I’m serious.  Made in Sweden, so you know it’s quality, right?  Almost 500 people gave it a five-star review, and their comments led me to believe it would be worth trying myself . . . people tell the truth in online reviews, so if something is no good they say so.  

This little ingenious contraption works exactly as the name implies.  There is a blue plastic chamber attached to a tube with a mouthpiece.  The end of the chamber is placed in/near the baby’s nose and the operator of the Snotsucker puts the mouthpiece in his mouth and literally sucks the snot into that chamber. 

Fear not, the snot gets nowhere near your mouth!  It stays nicely inside the holding chamber.  There is no pokey thing to shove up in the baby’s delicate inner nose, and the little ones tolerate the process so much better than they did with the bulb aspirators.  It’s also transparent so you can see the results.  Perhaps the most wonderful thing is that it’s dishwasher safe.  All this for under $15.

The first five-star review of the Snotsucker was titled, “The grossest thing that I’ve ever loved,” and we love it, too; I enthusiastically endorse this tool.  Some baby products are useful to some people and others are not, but I cannot fathom how anyone would not love this thing, unless he cannot handle the concept of using his mouth to vacuum snot out of someone else’s nose.

Visit www.threebuns.blogspot.com for photos and more of our crazy life.

Inaugural column in the Kerkhoven Banner

What a Difference a Day Makes

                The Vikings are doing their best to lose their big lead for the third week in a row, and all five of the men in my house are asleep this Sunday afternoon.  Having four children ages three and under, that doesn’t happen very often.  I will use this rare opportunity to begin the story of having and raising triplet boys along with their older brother, Hurricane Axel.  It started exactly one year ago. . .

Lying on the table in a dark room with Jesse at my side, we waited for the ultrasound technician to tell us that the baby we were expecting had a strong heartbeat and was otherwise normal for all intents and purposes.  I had a feeling something was different about this pregnancy, a feeling I did not share with my husband – no need for him to freak out because I had a hunch, as I could have been wrong!  Turns out I was not. 

                We were familiar with ultrasounds having had a few with our first son.  So when the technician fired up the machine and the images were on the screen, our eyes were glued.  I immediately saw two babies but kept my mouth shut.  So did the tech, for a couple of minutes, as she scanned around my midsection.  Then she spoke, and the conversation went like this:

                Tech:  You’ve got an appointment with your doctor today, right?

                Me:  Yep, right after this.

                Tech:  Umm, good.  Yeah, you’ve got three in here.

                Me:  What?!

                Tech:  I see three babies.

                Me:  Holy hell.

                Jesse:  [silence]

                Me:  Jess?

                Jesse:  [silence]

                Me:  Jesse?!  Are you okay?

                Jesse:  What?  Uh, yeah.  [silence]

                The ultrasound tech finished her imaging and sent us upstairs to see the doctor, who congratulated us and sent us on our way.  That morning we went from being parents of one to parents of four.  Yikes. 

                We had planned to shop for a new pick-up after the appointment, but realized that would no longer have adequate seating.  In less than eight months our family would double in size.  Now what?  Time for a cocktail, which of course being pregnant was not allowed, even if I really needed one.  I think we both did.  Seemed Jesse would be drinking for two . . .  We headed to Applebee’s for lunch, where we stared at each other and let sink in the news we’d just been given.  Triplets.

                Big news?  Yes.  Time to panic?  No.  What an incredible blessing!  We had no idea what lay ahead of us, but we didn’t care.  We decided it would work out like it was supposed to and there was nothing we could do but keep it together and press on.  So that is what we did. 

                We shared our “expecting” news with our families the night before, as we needed someone to watch the Hurricane when we went to the ultrasound `appointment.  Now it was time to tell them the rest of the story.  I called my mom on the way home and told her the news, to which she said nothing.  I thought maybe we had been disconnected.  She was speechless, and although she’s not a big talker she always puts in her two cents to her children, as most mothers do.

 Now to tell the outlaws (what most people call their in-laws).  Jesse’s mother, too, had very little to say but tears of joy spoke volumes.  His dad, the retired reverend, had perhaps the most memorable reaction we would encounter, which must be censored in a newspaper but, like mine, also started with, “Holy . . .!”

We invited some friends out to supper that night to share our news and, of course, eat.  Think you’re hungry?  Try eating for four.  Since there were only a couple hours in between telling the outlaws and our dinner date that night, we said it was okay to spread the word if they were so inclined.  Word beat us uptown to supper, though, and as we casually conversed with our friends someone walked by our table, congratulating us and saying, “Wow!”  The rest of the table was visibly curious now.  We hadn’t yet disclosed our secret, and so let Axel tell them he was going to be a big brother.  Of course they were happy for us, and then we said, “Wait, there’s more.”

“Is it two?” one of them joked.  “Nope,” we smiled, “three.”  GASP.

“It will be an adventure, that’s for sure,” Jesse laughed.

“For all of us,” someone else said.  And so it is.  I will tell of that adventure here, weekly, so you can laugh, sympathize, shake your head in disbelief, whatever.  You may say to yourself, “I’m glad it’s them and not me,” and that’s okay.  It has been quite a year, but we could be in a lot worse shape here.  If you are getting a full night’s sleep, though, try not to rub it in.

Ah, the Vikings just lost again.  Shocking.

Visit www.threebuns.blogspot.com for photos and more of our crazy life.

                 

AWOL

I bet you thought I died or something.  I have no real excuse for not writing for A MONTH, other than the time issue and some computer malfunctioning, but I could make time.  I always make time for the important things, like playing with my boys and making and eating cookies.

The good news is that I've started my weekly column in the Kerkhoven Banner and will now have something to post here weekly.  There are no pictures accompanying my column so I will put those on here.  We've had major snot issues in our house this week, and that is what I wrote about for the newspaper.  Classy, I know. 

This is going to be a mish-mash of information to bring you up to speed as best I can.

Last week my mom came for a few days and hung out with the babies while I updated our master bedroom.  How can you be updating? you may ask, You just built that house.  It's true.  The original color it was painted did not go with the tile we chose for the bathroom, and since the two are open to each other it needed to be fixed.  I also DIY'd (a la my friend Kelly - see http://www.kellysimonsays.blogspot.com/) myself a chocolate brown velvet headboard with nailhead trim, and it's freakin' awesome.  When I get the room completely put together I will post a picture, because I'm kind of proud.

Also, I need to decide what's more important when it comes to the kids spending too much time with grandmas - nice to have a break and get things done, but when grandmas go home the boys are SUPER needy and want to be held all the time.  Damn grandmas.

Axel started Norwegian-infused preschool a few weeks ago and loves it.  He came home speaking a little Norwegian after the second day, and it's so cute.  Also he has a love-hate relationship with a girl named Lauren.  They steal each other's toys and push each other's buttons, Ax giggles and she screams and then they're holding hands.  I had no idea this started at age 3. 

Every day he comes home with something on his shirt, telltale of what he's been doing in school that day.  It has ranged from mustard to chocolate milk, paint to glue.  When I was in kindergarten my mom had to call the teacher to find out why I always came home with paste on my corduroy pants.  I guess it's cause they don't put wet paper towels on the table for you to wipe it on.  Axel is my kid.

I took Eero, Rex, and Magnus to the 9th grade FACS class to be the "practical application" in a unit about babies, per the request of the FACS teacher.  I waddled into the building with Rex on my front and baby seats with Eero and Magnus in each hand, and a polite young man opened the door for me.  Of course I had to show up between classes so there were plenty of high schoolers to gawk at me in the hallway.  I am available for birth control promotional events, FYI.  The six girls in the class loved my boys, thought cloth diapers, which I showed them, were wonderful, but didn't know how I had the energy to do the laundry every day.  I don't know that either.

Tonight we went to the firemen's waffle supper.  I'm a little nervous, because the last time I went to a waffle supper, I took a ride in a helicopter the next day.
Thanks for your continued interest in our chaos.

I was trying to get more pictures to upload, but ever since our house got struck by lightning our computer has been kind of an idiot.  This one will have to do for now . . . may be telling of what is to come.