PTSD

My post title does not refer to Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. I'm using it instead as my acronym for "Post-Triplet Super-Disaster".

At first, I didn't want to tell anyone (other than my mom) about this particular disaster because it was too horrifying to me. I wanted to forget about it and didn't want people to think I was a terrible mother. Now that the trauma of the memory has faded a bit, I've decided that I should record the event for posterity. So here goes...

I had to do something upstairs for a few minutes. (Yes, you can see it coming now, eh?) So I left the children sitting on the couch happily watching Sesame Street. As I listened from upstairs, it started to sound awfully quiet--too quiet even for watching TV--or maybe it was just a feeling. Anyhoo, I rushed downstairs to find Everett happily watching Sesame Street, and all three girls in the bathroom. One had the toilet brush, and the other two had taken combs out of one of the drawers. With those implements they were happily dipping and stirring in the toilet. And the toilet had something in it--something loose and nasty. I think the girls may have been sampling from the combs, but tried to tell myself they weren't. The floor was covered in filthy water. The girls were covered in it. Apparently, Everett had gone #2 in the potty, and for the first time ever, had neither flushed nor closed the door.

After a few milliseconds of trying to deny that any of this was really happening, I quickly removed all of the girls' clothing and whisked them up to the bathtub. Once Cary found out what was going on, he pulled out the bleach and cleaned the bathroom, enlisting Everett for the effort as well. I was truly grateful. I was feeling really yucky that day. As it turned out, I had a stomach bug and was throwing up an hour later.
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While I'm on the subject, here's another one from last summer that wasn't quite so bad, but still required baths:

The children and I were playing on the porch. I sent Everett inside as a consequence for some form of disobedience which I can't remember at this point. He went straight through the house, out the back door, and back around to the front porch. (I had made a gate, so he was standing on the steps in front of the porch.) I told him to march himself back inside, and right then he peed his pants. We were working on potty training and were doing pretty well but not 100% there yet. I told him to wait there while I went to get something to clean it up with. While I was inside for all of 30 seconds he discovered the planter which I had placed on the steps so that it would be out of reach of the children while we played on the porch. It was filled with potting soil. He decided that it would be a really fun game to throw the dirt on his sisters like it was raining. They loved it. So I came out to a wet boy and three dirty girls. By now I decided I needed to call for backup, so I told Everett to stop, and went in to get Cary. Everett did not stop. Cary took care of Everett while I vacuumed the porch and the girls. Everett went to bed really early that night.

Too bad I don't have photographic evidence for this one.

The Normal Craziness

You know how we have to tape Lana's diapers on?  Well today Gwyn brought me her baby doll and some packing tape, and wanted me to tape her baby. Maddie has also asked me to tape her diaper.  I guess they think Lana is getting special treatment!

The girls had a lot of fun trying on their new swimsuits this week.  At one point, I left the bag on the floor for two minutes while I put away some groceries.  Gwyn ended up wearing her suit on top of her clothes, and Maddie underneath her clothes.  We're looking forward to using them at the Snoopy pool this summer!

And disasters are always fun to hear about, right?  Today Lana climbed out of her pack 'n' play at least eight times before she finally fell asleep (on the floor).  Before falling asleep, she removed the vent cover, put it down into the ductwork, and then proceeded to put anything that was loose on the floor or in Everett's dirty basket and small enough to fit down in there too.  I believe the final contents of that duct were a pair of underwear, pajama shorts, a plastic cup, torn-off pieces of the room-darkening shade, a sock, and a Lego man.

Yes, I know we need to get her in a crib for naps, and yes, we need to fix that vent cover!  It has already been used to create disaster. At least it was easier to take the ductwork apart this time!  Rest assured, securing that vent will be one of my first projects tomorrow!

Quacked Goose and Naptime Disaster

Sorry for the cheesy title. The children were getting a bit out-of-control before dinner today, so I decided to teach them how to play "Duck, Duck, Goose". It was really cute. After a while, Gwyn stood up every time and followed the goose around "ducking" people. Lana was wandering around the whole time. We finally got her to "duck" a few people, but when she got to Everett he leaned away. She kind of landed on his face and proceeded to squeeze his nose repeatedly. Fortunately, he was amused. The chase area became larger and larger. We all had fun. Maddie mostly sat in the circle and held her buckets. (See the previous post.)

As for naptime... The first few days of Lana being in the girls' room for naps went fairly well. They all at least got some sleep. Well, yesterday was another story. I heard them for about two hours. Finally I went upstairs and discovered that Lana had taught Gwyn a new trick. They were both standing in their cribs naked over a puddle. Maddie had apparently slept through that part of the shenanigans. Sooooo I separated the girls again today, but I think Lana had already made an impact (hopefully temporary) on naptime. Today I heard some jumping in the formerly calm girls' room. Ah, the adventures of supertwindom...

A post dedicated to my Dad

I remember a lot of things my dad said when my brothers and sister and I were kids. Right now I'm remembering one particular phrase that he repeated alot: "We're not allowed to have anything nice." This was usually said matter-of-factly, and with some resignation.

The following sequence of photos is an illustration of my dad's expression, played out in my home. Though the rest of our home has fared rather well in the year-and-a-half we've lived here, I already dread the many hours of work that will have to go into repairing Everett's room before we can sell our house when the time comes.

This is where the doorstopper used to be

before Everett stood on it:

This is where Everett's closet door used to be:

This is what can happen when the paint starts to crack at a seam right over a little boy's bed:

This is what can happen when you put a child in time out with a tambourine in his hand:

This is what can happen when you leave three children playing with stuffed animals together while you are bathing your fourth child. (This was after we had replaced the blinds that had already been destroyed.):

I don't know if you can see all the little dirty fingerprints, but they are the evidence of the vent being removed repeatedly by little hands. (To see my post about one particular event, click here.)

And last but not least, I don't know how or when these happened:

Our Latest "Childproofing" Measures

For a time, we thought our house was pretty childproof... We are learning, of course, that there really is no such thing! Everett is, for the most part, a very obedient, helpful boy, but he has discovered some creative ways to make a lot of work for Cary. Once during a family picnic (summer of 2007), he came out of the bathroom and said to me: "I don't like Spiderman anymore." I assumed he was referring to his underwear, and that he had just changed into another pair.

Well, a few hours later I learned that my assumption was incorrect. Apparently he had decided that he no longer liked a spiderman toy, and had attempted to flush it down the toilet. This being the day of a family picnic, the bathroom had heavy usage, and by the time we discovered the problem... well, I guess that would be TMI. Cary spent a couple of hours that night taking everything apart and mopping things up, and the next day Everett helped retrieve spiderman from the pipe and replace the toilet.

A couple of months later, we discovered that the vent in Everett's room was not apparently not attached securely enough. I had let all four children play with stuffed animals in there for a few minutes while I vacuumed another bedroom. They removed the vent and proceeded to drop interesting objects into the ducts. That night Cary spent some time opening the ductwork and retrieving an interesting assortment of little treasures.

Our latest childproofing efforts have involved the kitchen chairs. For a while it was quite effective to lay the chairs down on the floor under the table, but the girls have recently discovered that they can still move the booster seats around and use them to reach all the neat stuff on the countertops. This is our most recent (temporary) solution:

The Diaper Turban

Unfortunately, the title of this post refers to a dirty diaper! Lana has become very adept at removing almost any article of clothing we put on her. First we tried using only shirts with snaps at the bottom, and snapping them over her pants (so she looked like some kind of little superhero). She managed to put her arms up through the neck of the shirt and take it off without undoing a single snap. At first that wasn't so bad--until she decided to take her diaper off too, and put it on her head!!! After a few of these "diaper turbans", we now tape her diaper on every time she goes down for a nap and at bedtime!