Baby Wrangling

I've just returned from a 4-day visit with my sister and the triplets, aka "The Beans". I'm exhausted and smell like clabbered formula.

Let me start this by saying I am NOT a baby person. I have the same inclination to snuggle babies as I do rabid Rottweilers. About all I ever manage when around somebody's baby is a rather forced smile and a quick, "Um, cute kid." Then I cut and run as if my life depended on it. Not a baby person, never have been, probably never will be. Kids know this instinctively and take one look at me and start screaming. Joy.

So, the thought of being trapped in the same house as the triplets for four days had me on edge. I arrived at feeding time and Mamma Bean, not knowing I was not a baby person, handed me one and said, "Here, feed this kid." My sister was smirking at the horrified look on my face. Looking back, they may have planned that. Hummm.....

Lo and behold, Almondine didn't scream and gave me a big ol' grin. I managed to get most of the strained pears poked in the poor child. Only a little bit ended up in her nose and hair. She laughed at me the whole time. For the rest of the visit she was mine, tucked into my left elbow.

Nana is keeping the babies all day by herself while Mamma Bean finishes up the last semester of school. After just a month Nana already looks like she's been through WWIII. She's in a back and wrist brace. She can sing the opening and closing songs to The Backyardigans, Dora the Explorer, and Go, Diego, Go!.

In the afternoon Nana has "school" for the babies. I think this is more for her benefit than theirs actually. She lines them up in bouncy seats and goes through the repertoire....puppets, books, sound makers, etc. Whatever she says, whatever motions she makes, whatever sound effects she adds, she does it three times; once exclusively for each baby. I didn't make it to the end of school once. I crashed out in the big nursery chair somewhere after the third, "This is the cow [puppet], see the cow, the cow goes moo, moo, moo..."

The second day was a field trip to the ophthalmologist's office during afternoon nap time. Taking three tired, cranky babies on a long ride then having a stranger poke things in their eyes is simply lovely. I jiggled upset babies for an hour in the doctor's office. Phew!

I sang and rocked trying to keep them happy and entertained. I went through all the kiddie songs I could remember then started on In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, Joy to the World (Jeremiah was a bullfrog), and some old bluegrass tunes. I was getting the stink eye from a lady in the waiting room. I guess she didn't think Iron Butterfly was appropriate for 7-month-olds.

So over the course of the last four days I did lots of baby wrangling. I discovered at this age they are pretty sturdy and rubbery. I didn't have to be so afraid of holding them "right." Anything shy of dropping them headfirst on the floor is right. Their favorite sound is the kissy sound. Kissy sound will elicit a big smile and thus a hole in which to poke strained pears. Lots and lots of kissy sounds made this week.

Somehow I managed to skirt diaper duty for the entire time. I thought I might actually attempt a poopy diaper (would have been my first diaper ever!) this morning, but I thought better of it and let Nana do the dirty work. It was a good thing too because that monster was loaded. Ewwwww! The babies are trained to poop at exactly 11:30 a.m. each morning. I don't know how they get three babies to do that together on cue, but they do.

Anyway, I'm back home now, still smelling of clabbered formula. I survived the rabid Rottweilers...and they *are* cute kids.

I already miss their sweet little smiles.