Funny how questions change over time.

When I had one baby, people would ask me, “How’s it going?”  “Isn’t it a change?”  “Don’t you just love being a mother?”

When I had another baby, people would question, “How’s it going?” – a bit more concern – “It’s different with two kids, huh?”  “How do you get anything done?”

And now that I have yet another baby, I get about one question.  “How are you doing?”  Mostly said with a great deal of concern coming from the furrowed brows of the asker.  It’s like there’s a secret club for people who have more kids than there are adults in the household, but they don’t tell you what it’s really like until you’re initiated, and then there’s no going back.

I have two responses:  “It’s okay – crazy, but good, you know … ” for the folks who don’t really want to know.

The others get the more honest:  “Three kids is a lot of kids.”

The nice thing is that it comes in degrees (for me, at least:  no multiple births around here).  When I had the first baby, I heard the typical:

– sleep when the baby sleeps (uh: we have no sleeping babies in this house.  Still)

– don’t try to get things done

– just be happy being in bed with the baby

– rest and take care of yourself

Yeah.  Whatever.  I could still get things done:  that was the problem.  When he slept, I could bustle about and be productive — just like I used to be.  When the second little man came, I could still pretend to get things done, but the list had slowly started to change.  Working from home?  Tried that:  no go.  Planning meetings in the evening?  Why do that when I could meet with a book in bed?

And now my list of Things I’d Like To Do has been so whittled down that a productive day looks like:

• wake before children or at least try to keep them from waking each other up (I’m looking at you, Mr. 5am riser Abe)
• figure out something to throw into the mouths of the baby birds (which are WIDE open – minemineminemine)
• corral people into clothes that they won’t throw tantrums over
• change diapers
• replace diapers and wipes (which disappear faster than candy around here.  Really:  we still have candy from a parade in July – ugh)
• figure out some activity that we can all do when one wants to play slap jack, the other is very obviously placing a book in my lap, and the third wants to eat/cuddle/sleep in my arms/be anywhere except the bouncy seat/high chair/rocking chair/cradle/any sort of contraption meant to entertain her so a human doesn’t have to
• lather.rinse.repeat.  Throw in a quiet time that no one takes, and that’s the day’s activities.

Wow.  Very different from the single life, or the dating life, or the young married life, or even the mother of one life.

I told the Hubby tonight, “I’m not intending to complain.  Really.  I know this is just a phase of life.  But man:  I’m tired, and I haven’t done anything.”

It’s 8:52.  And quiet.  Three hair cuts have been given in the last hour, four people have been bathed, and I’m feeling like I actually got something done.  But the boys would say we got lots done:  we read Truckery Rhymes and Millie’s Magnificent Hat  and the Magic School Bus Blows Its Top multiple times, we listened to a Dan Zane’s cd over and over, we ate pear chips and homemade granola bars, we examined the latest Lego Club magazine, and we spent time sitting with Boo trying to make her smile.  In the Type A world, it’s hard to put those things on the Productive List, but fortunately I’m too tired and floopy to be Type A … much.

Mama Musings