It's A Beautiful Day

 Today was a big, beautiful day! 

I started sweating as soon as I woke up...from sleeping two hours.



Elizabeth, Mary Ellis, and Hendley Grace were ready to rumble!

This weekend Mary Ellis asked Uncle Ben, "Will you please take me to school on Monday?"  Because he is the very best Uncle and brother in the whole world, he came along.  This morning Granny asked Mimi, "Are you nervous?"  Mary Ellis answered, "No because Uncle Ben is here."

  Some mothers get a "silly picture" on the first day.  I get a "sassy picture." I didn't even have to ask.

Uncle Ben, Grandfather, and Granny all came along.  Because they are the best, that's why.

Mommy felt very nervous when we arrived at school. Working puzzles helped me feel less anxious.

 

Elizabeth felt unsure (and cried...and screamed) at first.  I believe she was the only precious gem to have such an adverse reaction to the room.  After a trip to the ladies room she felt better. 

Best. Uncle. Ever. SERI-OUS-LY.

Hendley Grace did not feel afraid. She felt ready. 

One of our loving and wonderful teachers.

 

One of my favorite verses.

Uncle Ben and Grandfather hold Hendley's hands as she skips out of school.

Hendley Grace cannot wait to go back to play with blocks.
 

Libby Lou's favorite part of the day was working with puzzles.

After school we went to City Cafe to have a celebration brunch.  We keep it classy.

Mary Ellis has many tricks up her sleeve.  She really loves her teachers.  She would like Spider Man to be another teacher on Wednesday.

What did Mommy learn today?  I learned that school we be held Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.  NOT, Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.  I think that is very important.

Tis The Night Before Preschool

A Crazy Composition by Amy Jackson

Tis the night before preschool and this Mommy can’t sleep,

As I lay here and worry, writhe, and weep.

Three backpacks hang by the front door with care,

In anticipation that frazzled Mommy may leave them dangling there.

The Trifecta is snuggled in their cozy beds,

While visions of center time rave in their heads.
As Mommy lies fretting, Daddy begins to snore,
My triplets are going to preschool, they are babies no more.

My chaotic, anxious brain is filled with preschool clatter,

You are asking yourself, “What is the matter?”
What could go wrong, isn’t preschool a breeze?
Just go on and make this transition with ease!

I have done my best to teach them to share,

I pray that they won’t pull another child’s hair.
When they don’t get their way, will they throw a fit?
What if they scratch, bite and/or hit?

I worry other children may tease them or be unkind,

When their teacher makes a request will they listen and mind?
Preschool today…then college!  What will I do?
Will they pick Texas A&M, Vanderbilt, or MTSU?

And then in a twinkling, I fear they may struggle to learn,

Or steal others toys and not wait for their turn.
I will dress them in Lilly from their heads to their feet,
The clothes they may tarnish from snacks that they eat.

I beg you, Tiny Toes Trifecta, try not to act naughty,

Please, please tell your teachers when you have to go potty.
Do not use obscene language such as “underpants” or “butt,”
If you cannot speak politely, please keep your mouths shut.

Finally, I worry; they’ve stayed routinely with me,

When I leave them in their classroom, it will be tearfully.
You will hear me exclaim, as I walk slowly away,
“HAPPY SCHOOL YEAR TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD DAY!”

Insurrection

My smarty pants friend, Tim Kelly, sent me the following quote by one of my all-time favorites, Mark Twain: Sufficient unto the day is one baby. As long as you are in your right mind don't you ever pray for twins. Twins amount to a permanent riot; and there ain't any real difference between triplets and an insurrection.

Think about that word, “insurrection” for a moment.  What comes to mind?  Revolt?  Rebellion?  Mutiny? Uprising?  Does that sound like a typical day in your household?  Because it certainly is in mine.  My Trifecta has discovered the power of three.  Somehow, they have a deep understanding that if they join forces against me, I have little to no control over them.
 
At this moment I am sitting in The Trifecta’s room during nap time because instead of sleeping soundly for two hours, they now revolt against me with screaming, yelling, jumping from bed to bed, and stealing lovies from one another.  Flashlights bang against their headboards putting Occupy Wall Street drum circles to shame. They know if they decide NOT to nap, there will be NO nap. “I think maybe they are ready to give up nap times, Amy,” a precious friend offered.  To this dear and loving soul I replied, “You are out of your beautiful mind.” I need nap time...really, really, need nap time.

Yesterday, Stevie Nick’s all-time great “Landslide” came on the radio.  “Oh girls!” I exclaimed, “I love this song.  Let’s listen to it before we pop in our number song CD.”  The Trifecta and I hand danced and swayed our heads as I sang along.  It was beautiful.  When the song ended they requested we listen again.  “Sorry sweet girls.  That was the radio.  You can’t replay the radio,” I replied.  A trio of screams, shrieks, and pure fury erupted from behind me.  Someone tried to hit the back of my head with a stuffed animal.  A Sippy cup flew passed me and smashed into the dashboard. At that moment a police car rolled up next to us as we stopped at the red light. Fearing for our safety and my sanity, I reached down into the craziest compartment of my brain.  “GIRLS,” I shouted, “THAT POLICE OFFICER IS HERE TO TAKE YOU TO JAIL!”  Silence.  I had their attention.  “Police officers take people to jail who make bad choices and put others in danger.   Having a tantrum in the car is a bad choice. Do you want him to take you to jail?” 

Several weeks ago, I accidentally invented, “Mean Becky.”  She’s a babysitter in Murfreesboro who I call when all three of the girls won’t get dressed when we are running late and need to leave the house.  “Ok, well, if you won’t get dressed to go to tumble class with me, then I am just going to have to call Mean Becky to stay with you while I’m gone.”  The Trifecta snaps out of the storm of insanity and we’re ready to go in less than five minutes. “Mean Becky” is the grouchiest babysitter in town.  She doesn’t let you play with blocks.  She doesn’t read stories.  She doesn’t exist.

Sometimes, when The Trifecta ignores my requests to exit our vehicle and enter the house, and instead decide they would rather jump around the inside of the car, climb over the seats into the back hatch, and honk the car horn when we are inside the garage, well, sometimes I see gypsies.  “Oh no,” I scream, “I just saw a gypsy!  If we don’t get inside right away she will take us to the gypsy barn and lock us up!” Thirty tiny toes leap out of the car and into the house in world record time.

Foolish? Irrational?  Yes.  Insurrection leads to desperation.

Please believe me when I say that The Trifecta receives actual consequences followed by reasonable discipline 98% (OK, let’s say 95%) of the time.  But there are times when the three of them gang up on me people, and crazy antics are all I have.

To my critics I say, you are right and I am wrong.  You are rational and I have not shaved my legs in three weeks. 

Teach Our Children Well

When it comes to parenting milestones I am admittedly delayed.  We did not leave the house until The Trifecta turned a year old and the pediatrician gave us the “go ahead” to enter the real world.  We did not leave the girls with a babysitter until they turned 3 (even though I had a wonderful nanny/mommy helper in Georgia). Chris and I have never left them overnight.  We’re just total bizarre-os.

I reached a major milestone when I decided it was time to take the girls to the child care center at the gym.  I used to clock in my exercise anywhere from 4:30 to 6:00 am so that I could work out and get home in time for Chris to get to State Farm.  With a zillion words of encouragement from my parents, I decided to give working out during decent day light hours a try.  A darling woman named Emma greeted us at the door.  She reminded me of a storybook character who probably has 20 grandchildren of her own snapping at her heels.  I felt encouraged.

After an abbreviated session I went to pick up The Trifecta.  As soon as we walked out of the child care room they started shouting in unison, “Dat boy hit Hendley on the head with a train!  She cried!  She has a boo-boo!”  I inspected the wound.  A red goose egg protruded from her tiny forehead.  “Are you ok?” I asked.  “I don’t want dat boy to do that never again,” Hendley replied.  I didn’t take a breath. I didn’t count to 10.  I just said the first thing that came into my tiny brain.  “Well,” I began, “If that boy touches you anywhere again I’m going to bash his face in."  The Trifecta looked up at me with six wide, stunned eyes. 

I can understand their surprise at my choice of words.  Following an outbreak of violence at the Jackson home, we have been discussing the importance of “The Golden Rule,” using our “words” to solve problems, and all concepts surrounding “give peace a chance.”  No biting.  No hitting. No scratching.  No hair pulling.  No kicking.  Treat others the way you want to be treated.

“Did you tell Miss Emma?” I asked.  “Yes,” they replied, in harmony. “What did she do?” I questioned.  “She told him not to do dat anymore,” Elizabeth answered.  “And she put him in time out,” Mary Ellis added.  In an effort to fix my parenting blunder I added, “Always tell a teacher if someone hurts you.  Okay?” 

That night we were shocked out of sleep by the sound of exploding fireworks and Mary Ellis’ screams of terror.  We bolted up the stairs and began comforting The Trifecta.  “Daddy, if dose guys don’t stop the fireworks, will you please bash their face in?” Mary Ellis asked Chris.  He looked at me with astonishment.  “Where did she hear that?” Chris wondered out loud.  “Yikes,” I started, “I just don’t know.  The nursery at church?  Sunday school? Do you really want to deal with this right now?  It’s 2:00 in the morning.” 

After comforting the girls and bribing them with cups of milk, Chris and I returned to our room.  I couldn’t sleep.  “It was me.  I told Hendley I was going to bash in the face of the kid who clocked her with the train today.  I wasn’t thinking.  I was so mad.  She’s the most sensitive and peaceful child on the planet.  I meant it, too.  I’ll bash his face in if he does that again.”  Chris gave me a tired pat on the back.  “It’s ok,” he said. 

And so, the next morning my devotional said the following:  As we teach our children, we must continually emphasize the difference between knowing something and applying it to our lives. It is not enough that our kid’s heads get crammed full of Bible knowledge. The instructions from Scripture must be translated into daily life and applied.

Teach our children well.  Put those words into action.  Not, teach our children “bash his face in.” Ouch.  So now during my daily prayers I ask that God will work through me when opportunities arise such as the one I just described above.  How do I translate into action those things I know God tells me to do into daily lessons with my children? 

Maybe I should begin by removing, “bash his face in” from my vocabulary?