Private Parts

I knew eventually this day would come. Still, I was not prepared for the conversation I had yesterday with one of my daughters.

Cakes: Julius pees out of his belly button.
Me (distracted): No, honey, no one pees out of their belly button.
Cakes: Yes, Julius does.
Me (starting to pay attention): No, no he doesn't.
Cakes (indignant): Yes, he does. Like this...
At this point I turn to look at her. My eyes slowly widen and, based on her pantomimes, I realized why she thinks a little boy at preschool pees out of his belly button. (Try simulating the act of a male urinating. Her hands were somewhere around the button of her pants and her belly button). Here's what raced through my head:
Don't panic. Don't panic. She's four. You can do this. Oh crap I'm hyperventilating. Breathe...
I have always been pretty straightforward with my daughters when it comes to body parts. I never set out to be that way, but it's a lot easier to use proper terms than to try to remember what slang was used in previous conversations. So I took a deep breath and calmly explained that boys and girls have different private parts. After learning that Julius does not pee out of his belly button she seemed a lot less interested in the conversation.
Upon hearing about this conversation, Hubby's first question was "why would she know how Julius goes to the bathroom?" Well, I've come up with two probable explanations. In our house when one girl needs to go the bathroom, the other three suddenly need to use the facilities, too. I can only imagine what happens in a class of 16. At some point someone is going to open the door while another student is using the bathroom. My other thought is that during play time Julius may have simulated going to the bathroom (maybe they were playing house, who knows?) and it appeared that he had his hands near his belly button. All I know is that I made it through the conversation/explanation without passing out... and surely that has to count for something. Unfortunately, only Cakes was part of this conversation, so apparently I'm going to have to repeat it three more times.

That's Mine Pt. 2

My sister and I are eight years apart. This means she received a lot of my hand me downs. At first it was fun seeing baby Jenna use the same coveted blankie I used as a little girl. Then she chewed it to pieces and I was a little miffed. That used to be my blankie. You think she could take better care of it. One Christmas I remember helping my mom clean up some of my old dolls that had been packed away. The brunette was "Molly." I can't remember what I called the blonde one. I was delighted that my sister would be playing with them... until she renamed them "Packie" (we think she was trying to say Cabbage Patch Kid) and "Palmer." Ummm, yeah, that's not their names. I soon decided to go through my boxes of old toys and set aside the things I just couldn't part with. I still have that box and have slowly started letting my daughters play with those toys.
My girls are never going to be in a position to give one another hand me downs, but they certainly have to learn the art of sharing. It has been a really difficult concept to explain in recent months. They are comprehending "mine" and "yours." There are certain things I never make them share: blankies, a special toy... But when it comes to birthdays and Christmas I'm starting to find myself in a real pinch.
Take their recent birthday, for example. When my dad and stepmom were visiting we had an early celebration. Grandma presented each girl with a big pink storage container full of clothes and other goodies. Since each of my daughters received a container, they logically presumed whatever was in that container was hers and hers alone. I have spent countless mornings consoling sobbing girls who can't understand why someone else is wearing "her" shirt. In the basket Cakes dug into, there was a pair of Disney Princess shoes. She insists they are her shoes... although she is starting to warm up to the idea of occaisionally sharing the shoes with her sisters.
Last Christmas Kohl's had a line of Curious George books and toys. I was so excited that there were four different stuffed animals. Now I'm constantly trying to remember who "picked" which animal Christmas morning so I can avoid arguments.
Hubby came up with an interesting solution. Before Christmas he wants to take each of the girls to a toy store and let them roam the aisles with us one on one. This will give us an idea of who enjoys what toy... and come Christmas morning could give each of them a real sense of "ownership."
All in all my daughters are very good about sharing. Just last week I took Sue Sue to a physical therapy appointment. When I picked up Roo, Cakes and Tortilla from our drop-in day care they came out with a snack. As soon as Roo saw Sue Sue did not have a snack she generously handed over some apple slices... without me asking! They're catching on to what it means to share... but some days they really just need to know something belongs solely to them.
(Don't forget, the deadline to enter the Name Your Tune CD giveaway is approaching!)

Please Tell Me Why....

A few things have been bothering me lately. Maybe some of you can explain them to me.
Why:

• Do all four of my daughters like salad, yet refuse to simply eat vegetables?
• Does my pickiest eater think cucumbers are the best thing ever, but hates chocolate milk?
• Does Tortilla accept a carrot every time one is offered to her, but always chews it and then spits it out?
• Can they only tolerate organic mac and cheese and have serious stomach problems if they eat cheap mac and cheese? (OK, I think I actually know the answer to this one).
  
• Do my daughters like quesadillas, but are reluctant to try grilled cheese sandwiches?
• Do my daughters like hummus, but don't care for my homemade spinach dip?

I suppose if I knew the answers to these questions I would be a parenting expert and would probably be racking in millions with my own talk show!

Little Miss Independent

In some ways I was dreading the start of the new school year. I imagined myself needing to rise well before the crack of dawn to make sure all four of my daughters were dressed, fed and ready to go. Then something amazing happened. Some of my daughters have decided they can get themselves ready.
Tortilla was my first "Miss Independent." She is usually the first one to race to the potty in the morning and by the time the others have done their business she is dressed. All I have to do is comb her hair. Roo is on board with getting herself ready, too. Cakes has always been a mommy's girl and prefers that I dress her. I truly think it's because she wants my undivided attention for those few minutes. Sue Sue savors every last millisecond of sleep. She is definitely not a morning person. I consider myself lucky if I can manage to rouse her without making her grumpy.
I've really had to remind myself that I need to step back and let my daughters do as much for themselves as possible. It's part of growing up, both on their end and mine. I'll admit, sometimes it is painstakingly slow. Some mornings I want to reach over and help them put their arms in their coats and zip it myself. But, instead, I let them take the time they need... it's better to be an innocent bystander than to be told four times over "Mom, I can do it myself."

Different Families, Different Rules

Teaching toddlers all the household rules can be challenging. Sure I want them to behave at the table, clean up their toys, etc., but that doesn't always happen. I have a few rules, though, which are non-negotiable: We don't bite, we don't hit, we don't push. It can be difficult for my daughters to understand why other children are allowed to do these things.
For the most part if another child pushes one of my girls, she'll simply move to a different area or activity. I think some of this comes from having siblings. If your sister is bothering you, the quickest way to resolve the issue is to take yourself out of the situation. But when you're in a confined space, say a preschool classroom, moving away isn't always easy.
From time to time I'm told this on the way home from preschool "So and so pushed me" or "The boy took my toys." When I ask "what did you do?" the answer is usually "nothing... but he was naughty." I have explained to my daughters that not every mommy and daddy have the same rules at home and even if they do not every little boy or little girl remembers the rules all the time. I'm not suggesting there are parents out there who think it's OK for their kids to bite, hit or push, but I know there are parents out there who don't discipline their children for doing these things.
On an outing to the local children's museum, a boy who was clearly older than my daughters pushed one of the girls out his way so he could use the activity with which she was playing. I didn't say anything. I just steered her toward another activity. A woman with the mom of the boy in question must not have seen what happened because a few minutes later she said to the mom "Did you see those four little girls? Wow. Look at how well-behaved they are." Do you know what the mom said? "Yeah, well, I bet she wouldn't have the same luck if she had four boys." It still makes my blood boil. I don't buy into the notion that boys are harder to raise than girls. Come to my house when my daughters are trying to do a live version of WWE. But that's a post for a different day.
My daughters are becoming better at understanding that regardless of what other kids do, they are still expected to follow certain rules. They're also becoming better at standing up for themselves. While they haven't hit back or pushed back (yet), they will say "Don't push me." I don't expect my daughters to be perfect angels... but I do expect them to do their best to follow my rules and treat their peers the way they would want their peers to treat them. Heavy stuff for a four-year-old.

The Magic Hat

I have found the solution to our chore time woes. It's simple, really. If I want my daughters to clean up, one of them needs to wear the "magic hat."
It all started a few nights ago. Cakes was a few stickers behind the others on the chore chart. The other three landed on the "star spot" and were able to pick a prize in the morning. By the end of the day Cakes was just one sticker away from picking a prize. I spent the day explaining to her that if she wanted a prize that day then she needed to do all her chores. When it was time for the final chore, cleaning up her toys, I was a little worried. Then I saw something magical. She was picking up each and every toy by herself. In fact, she told her sisters not to help her. She was wearing a beret that they have in their dress up clothes. She wore the beret throughout the clean up and took it off as soon as she finished. She happily picked a pair of Strawberry Shortcake socks for her prize. The next night Tortilla was the only one out of the four who cleaned up the toys. The common denominator? The beret.
I have no idea what it is about that hat, but for some reason, the girl who wears it is the girl who does the best job cleaning up. Hubby has joked that he's going to put the beret on one of the cats and see if any of them have a sudden desire to do housework. It's worth a try.

The Surreal Life

Every now and then I have moments where I am hit with the realization that I am indeed a mother. It happens at the strangest times. The day after giving birth to my daughters I had to call to add them to our health insurance. It was a really strange thing to say "my daughters." The first time I heard myself called "Sue-Sue's mom" I didn't realize at first that I was the one they were referring to. This past January when we experienced what I now refer to as Barfbash '09 I was hit with the realization that I am the mommy and I have to pull myself out of bed in the middle of the night to do laundry and clean up vomit.
Last week I had another one of those moments. I had a concern about how something was being handled at school. After talking with the teacher (who gave me her full support but was at a loss for solutions) she suggested I call the principal. I don't know why, but it was a bizarre experience for me. Not only did I call the principal, but he listened to my concerns and came up with a remedy almost immediately. Then the next day during the school drop-off he came to talk with me and follow up on our phone conversation. The entire time he was talking to me all I could think was "Wow. I really am a parent! I'm talking to the principal and he's treating me like an adult."
All joking aside, yes, I do know on a daily basis that I am a mom. Still, every now and then I find myself in situations where it hits me like a ton of bricks... and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

The No Crying Rule

Some days I am ready to pull my hair out with all the crying I have to listen to. When my daughters are hurt I understand the crying. When they're mad or frustrated I get that, too, to a certain degree. But when they cry just to cry or because they think they'll receive attention, it drives me bonkers.
I recently read an article about the "terrible three's." One mom said she tells her daughter that if she wants to throw a tantrum it's OK, as long as she goes to her room. When she's done crying she's welcome to rejoin the family. So I decided to try instituting the "No Crying Downstairs Rule."
As soon as one of my daughters begins crying (assuming she's not hurt) I say "Uh-oh." One of two things happens. Either she stops crying or the crying continues. If it continues then I say "You know the rule. There's no crying downstairs. Go to your room and when you're done crying you can come back down here." She'll either immediately stop crying or she'll run upstairs. Usually by the time any of them reach their bed they'll shout down the stairs "I'm done crying!" Some times, though, the rule works too well. One of my daughters fell and hit her head. She started to cry and began her trek upstairs. I immediately scooped her up and told her it's OK to cry if you're hurt. Poor thing.
So far the no crying rule seems to be working for all of us. I've seen a slight decrease in tantrums and my nerves aren't on edge by the end of the day.

Doing It Alone

Some of my blogging friends post every now and then about their husbands being gone for days at a time for work. I have always wondered what would happen if I were in charge of my daughters for several days with no other help. I don't need to wonder any longer.
Due to a death in the family, Hubby has been out of town since Sunday. Logistically it just wouldn't work to take four toddlers on the whirlwind trip (a 12 hour drive Sunday, the funeral Monday, and a 12 hour drive home today). So I braced myself for a few long days.
Sunday went much better than I imagined. We busied ourselves in the morning with bubbles in the backyard. In the afternoon we watched Snow White. By bed time all five of us were exhausted. Monday was a day full of preschool preparations. In the morning we met the teacher and visited the classroom. After lunch we went shopping for school supplies (note to teachers: please do not wait until a week before school starts to distribute your supply list. It was slim pickin's at Target). Today we will hopefully go to the pool and simply bide our time until Hubby returns.
It's the nights that were the worst. Every little sound spooked me. I was concerned about what would happen if there were an emergency in the middle of the night and I was the only adult around. I know, I know. I sound like a wuss. I live in a "nice" neighborhood, but I think I have reasons to be a tad paranoid. In the two years we have lived in this house our front window and a garage window have been shot out with a BB gun (the unknown culprit still owes us $500 so we can fix the huge picture window), we have found used syringes in one of our window wells, and people some times ring our door bell after dark looking for the renters down the street who must not work and are always throwing a party. I did mention it's a "nice" neighborhood, right? So each night I braced myself for one of two noises... either the shrieking of our home security system or the cries of Tortilla who went diaper free while Hubby was gone. I'm happy to say neither of those sounds were heard.
Fortunately, we have recently become friendly with the couple who live directly behind us. They are smitten with the girls and just a fun couple to hang with. The male half is a former firefighter and paramedic, so I knew if a medical emergency arose I could call on him.
I think everyone expected me to be pulling my hair by now. My daughters can definitely have their meltdowns. I was pleasantly surprised by their behavior during the past few days. Now if Hubby can just arrive home safely, I can rest easy.

Clean Up, Clean Up, Everybody Clean Up

My daughters are not always that great at cleaning up their messes. Some days they'll clean up without fuss, other days I feel like I'm going to spend all night cleaning up their toys by myself. The last few days I've been bribing them with stickers, which seems to work, to a degree, but now I'm ready to make a chore chart.
What chores are appropriate for nearly-4-year-olds? I would like to have three age appropriate chores on their chart. I know cleaning up their toys will be one of the chores. I'm hoping this will stop Cakes from standing by the "book corner," tossing all the books into the middle of the room and then walking away. But I would still like two more chores that they're expected to do. I thought about requiring them to make their beds in the morning, and I still may do that. My only concern is that we'll be on a tight schedule when preschool starts and I don't know if tardiness is excused because I spent the morning trying to cajole 4 toddlers to make their beds.
Either way, that still leaves a third chore. Taking dishes to the sink? Putting out food for the cats? Wiping off the table after meals? I don't know.
My idea is to create a chore chart and each time a task is completed, those who did the task receive a sticker on the chart. There will be certain "prize" spaces on the chart and once they earn enough stickers to cover the "prize" space they get to pick a treat (I'll stock up at the dollar store). Eventually I'll make it so the prize space pops up just once a week and they earn a dime or a quarter (hey, I have 4 so yes I'm going to be cheap) to put in their piggy banks.
So, for those of you who have successfully taught your children to do chores... what chores do they do, and what works best to get them to do it?

It Finally Happened....

Several months ago (March? April? Time tends to blend together these days) Hubby and I made arrangements for the girls to sleep over at grandma and grandpa's, giving us an unprecedented night to ourselves. Then a flu bug ruined those plans and two of the girls and I were down for the count. It was quite a disappointment since Hubby and I had spent weeks planning our night out.
To celebrate our upcoming wedding anniversary Hubby secretly arranged for his parents to take our girls this past weekend. At first I was unsure and almost said no. We already had plans to attend a pool party during the day with his parents and I was concerned our daughters would be exhausted. In the end I decided to give it a try.
My main concern was what would happen at bed time. Our daughters have never spent a night without us. I shouldn't have worried. Cakes and Tortilla conked out right away. Roo and Sue-Sue treated the whole affair like a slumber party, but when grandma and grandpa moved them to another room and turned on a night light they settled down. In fact last night Tortilla asked to go sleep back at grandma's, so I guess the night was a success.
As for Hubby and I, we went to see the latest Harry Potter movie. It was OK. This was my least favorite book, so it shouldn't have surprised me that this installment of the movie wasn't so hot. Still, it was nice to be out without worrying about rushing to get home. Bed time was a bit strange without hearing the usual stirrings and sounds from the girls' room. All and all it was a fun time and a great surprise from Hubby. And in case you're wondering, I only called my in-laws once to check on the girls, so I think I handled the sleep over fairly well!

That's Mine!

When you're a multiple, you have to learn to share at an early age: your room, your clothes, your toys, your parents. Overall, my daughters have been pretty good at this, but sometimes they just can't take it any more.
They each have certain things that are theirs and only theirs and I really make a point of enforcing that. Besides their blankies, Tortilla has a purse that she refused to let go of during a recent shopping trip, so Grandma bought it for her. Sue-Sue and Roo each have a stuffed animal they received at separate doctor's appointments. Cakes could really care less about claiming anything as long as she has her yellow blankie.
But inevitably, one of them will find a toy that no one has touched in months and suddenly I feel like I'm a referee for Ultimate Cage Fighting. They will gladly share toys with other children, but are more than happy to see which sister can draw first blood over the silliest things.
For instance, yesterday we came downstairs for breakfast and Tortilla decided to play with a babydoll pillow. As soon as she set it down to grab a babydoll, Cakes took the pillow. Screaming ensued, mainly along the lines of "that's mine!" Usually my rule is this: if you put it down then it's fair game for others. But considering Tortilla only put down the pillow so she could find a babydoll to use with it, well, things were a little dicey. I finally convinced Tortilla to use a smaller pillow, knowing Cakes would soon tire of the other pillow, which she did.
It's hard to explain "ownership" to my daughters. If they show me a toy and say "that's my (fill in the blank)" I usually have to say "yes, but it's a toy we share with our sisters." I know most siblings, multiples or not, go through this at some point. I just hope the concept of "yours, mine and ours" sinks in before they start trading black eyes.

Toddlers and Manners

My daughters are becoming pretty good at saying "please," "thank you," and "you're welcome." Sometimes they need a prompt or two, but overall they're catching on. There's one aspect of manners that really has me stumped: how should children address adults?
Growing up I was always taught to call adults "Mr. X" or "Mrs. X." I remember one friend's mom told me it was OK to call her by her first name, but my parents still insisted I address her as "Mrs. X." I think I was out of college before I addressed a long-time older neighbor and friend by her first name. These days, however, I seem to only hear children call adults by their first name.
I don't know if it's necessarily rude. It doesn't really bother me when friends' children call me by my first name. I used my maiden name professionally even after I was married, so being referred to by my married name sometimes throws me for a loop. But how do you explain to children that they need to call their teachers "Mr. or Mrs." but other adults can be addressed by their first names?
If it's someone I don't know very well I will introduce the person to my children as "Mrs. X." When it comes to my friends, though, it's a different story. I'm never going to remember not to call my friends by their first names when talking to my daughters, so how can I expect them to call them anything else?
I know there are some adults who will correct children who call them by their first names. Is it a sign of respect? Absolutely. Do I think children who address me by my first name are disrespectful? No, not really. I guess I'm writing this post for input. How do you ask your children to address adults? Is it a big deal to call them by their first name?

We're Bringing Sassy Back

Forget the "terrible two's." I've said all along two wasn't that bad... it's three that's a real killer. I can handle the tantrums. Those are usually finished within a few minutes. It's the "sassing" I can't stand.
When did my little angels learn to be demon-children? The majority of the time they are all good listeners, but the second "sass" comes into the picture... watch out.
Some of the conversations I've had lately include:

• "I don't want to clean up. I'm too tired."
• "You're not my best friend any more." (generally directed at me when I explain there is no such thing as being too tired to clean up your toys)
• "I don't want to go to bed" (followed by a foot stomp)
• "I'm going to throw this toy across the room" (thanks for the warning)
• "I'm going to cry really loud and wake up all the babies" (I used the "babies" in the neighborhood as a reason for why we need to use inside voices... you'll wake up the babies if you're too loud)

I read a recent parenting article in which the author talked about the "toy fairy." When her son wouldn't clean up, she told him the toy fairy would come when he was asleep and take away his toys for a week. I tried that with my girls and was told "That's OK, mommy. We have a lot of toys so we don't need them all." Sassy.
For those of you who have been there, done that and told me a "magical switch" is flipped and my angels will permanently return at age four... I've started the countdown and I will come find you if that doesn't happen.

(Almost) All Thumbs

It has never bothered me that three of my daughters are dedicated thumb suckers. For whatever reason, Roo has never ever been interested in sucking her thumb, but her sisters pop their thumbs in their mouths at the first sign of stress or sleepiness. My thought has always been "well, they've found a way to self-soothe." I've never bought into the notion that they're messing up their teeth, since these teeth will eventually fall out. Plus, Hubby and I both needed braces and know all four of our girls will, too. Even my most recent edition of Parents magazine quoted a doctor who said thumb sucking is a natural reflex which most children will give up before age four.
So, here we are approaching our 4th birthday and our dentist says it's time to ditch the thumbs. Why? It's actually pretty interesting. According to our dentist, the way your tongue sits in your mouth affects your palette. As a child, when your palette is still developing, your tongue helps spread the roof of your mouth. When a child sucks her thumb, she's affecting where her tongue sits in her mouth and her palette may not spread/develop the way it should. Considering two of my daughters have "severe crowding" of their teeth, well, they need those palettes to spread. (Do you remember the kids in school who talked about having to wear a "bridge"? It was some medieval contraption in the roof of their mouth involving a key. Every night they had to turn the key to spread their palette. Yeah, not something I really want my girls to suffer through, although Hubby claims it didn't hurt.)
Our dentist appointment was last week. Since then I've really been trying to work with Cakes, Tortilla and Sue-Sue to encourage them to give up the thumb. It's easier said than done. The first day they were really good about taking their thumbs out of their mouth with a gentle reminder. By the time I put them to bed, though, you could tell what a challenge the day had been. As soon as they closed their eyes, their thumbs were firmly positioned in their mouths. The other day Cakes was sitting next to me on the couch. When I casually reminded her to take her thumb out of her mouth she moved. I found her sitting on the floor next to the couch, covertly sucking her thumb. Great, now I've created "closet thumb suckers."
It's not going to be an easy habit to break. We'll keep working on it and eventually we'll be a thumb-free family.

The Aftermath of a Lazy Sunday

Hubby and I have exactly one day a week where neither of us have to work. This means Sundays are typically filled with chores. Yesterday, however, we decided it was time for a "lazy Sunday."
Hubby let me sleep in, which was wonderful. I was up by about 8:30 a.m., which is unheard of in this house. Before I even got out of bed Hubby had already filled up our two backyard pools (we need two because I can't find one pool to accommodate quads... don't get me started on the fact that the picture on the box of our newest pool showed four children in the pool... with plenty of room to "swim.") We headed outside and let the girls do what they wanted.
It was quite comical. Roo soon filled up a bucket with water and dumped the water on each of her sisters' heads. Suddenly, Cakes, Tortilla and Sue-Sue were in the other pool, leaving Roo by herself. When she went to the other pool, the three of them moved again, not wanting to be in the path of her bucket dumping. Tortilla took over an inflatable innertube and spent the day floating in the pool. All she needed was an umbrella drink and she would have been set. We even had lunch outside and ended up wasting a good three hours doing nothing.
We're somewhat paying the price. The only chore we accomplished yesterday was mowing the yard. That's OK... every now and then we need a week where we just say "to heck with it" and have fun. All the girls except for Roo have a slight sunburn on their backs, which bothers me. This is the first time I can remember that they have ever burned. I slathered them in sunscreen, but we were simply outside too long and I should have reapplied it. Lesson learned... but at least it's not a severe burn.
Today, the girls are begging to go swimming in their pools again. I think I have them convinced that their skin needs a rest... and so does mommy!

When (Stuffed) Animals Attack

Every week when I wash my daughters' bedding I end up gathering up a toy box full of "stuff," too. They each have certain things they like to take to bed at night: Tortilla needs her blankie and also likes to have a small stuffed lamb with her. Sue-Sue has her blankie (actually she has two identical blankies and often wants both at night) and a stuffed polar bear she received about a year ago during a doctor's visit. Roo sometimes wants her blankie, but her animal of choice changes on a regular basis. Right now she's all about a stuffed penguin I bought at Kohl's when they had their Curious George themed books and toys. Cakes needs her blankie, but often doesn't want an animal.
The problem is that throughout the week they end up bringing more and more stuffed animals to bed. It starts innocently enough. One day Roo will be attached to a stuffed flamingo and want to take it to bed. Why not? But then a few days later she wants Curious George, and the penguin and the flamingo. Some nights I really don't know who has what in bed with them until we're all upstairs. When I announce "bed time," everyone goes running and I never know who has grabbed a new toy. This week when I did laundry I was amazed Tortilla even found room for herself in her bed. Here's what I found in her bed: her blankie, stuffed lamb, a large stuffed dalmation, a smaller version of the dalmation, a Dora doll, a Beanie baby teddy bear and a purse, yes, a purse. I was surprised to find there wasn't anything in the purse. I fully expected to find it stuffed with another animal, or, at the very least, some magnets.
I'm all about having comfort items in bed. If they want certain things with them to help them sleep it truly doesn't bother me. But when those things start taking over their bed, well, it starts to become an issue. So each week I clean out their bed, leave one or two treasured toys and start the process all over.

Appointments Times Four

For the first year or so of my daughters' lives, appointments were easy. Well, not necessarily easy when you consider the work it took to bundle up four infants and take them to the doctor, plus coordinate our work schedules to get them there. But at least all their appointments could be done at the same time. Now, things are a little tricky.
Around age 3, the girls started developing different issues. Roo needed glasses, which required various follow-ups. Then Tortilla needed glasses. At first I could take them to their follow-ups together, but then Tortilla needed to go in more often to determine a) if her glasses were working and b) if she needed to wear a patch to prevent "lazy eye." Gone were the days of making six-month or one-year follow-ups on the same day for all four girls.
Then today things became even more complicated. At a follow-up appointment for Tortilla, the opthalmalogist decided Tortilla no longer needs to wear her glasses. Yippee!!! But she needs to go back in two months to make sure her vision is still "up to par" without glasses. Everyone else needs to be seen in six months. This particular opthalmalogist only sees patients in the mornings (I think she's actually the equivalent of a physician's assistant, but we are scheduled with her for routine follow-ups since they take less than a half-hour). Did I mention the girls will be in preschool four mornings a week starting in August? I can't pull just Tortilla out of class because I would never make it back to school in time to pick up the others. At this point I told them I would have to wait to receive the school schedule, figure out what days school is canceled, and then call to make my appointment.
I remember when I was in school it was common to arrive late or leave early for a doctor, dentist, orthodontist, etc. appointment. I'm not pointing fingers at these providers, but wouldn't it make sense to have appointments more conducive to patients and their parents? Very few providers have Saturday appointments... and those who do tend to only be there until noon. Sure, it's just preschool, but I have a hard time condoning constantly pulling my daughters out of school for routine appointments.
I realize this isn't just a "multiple thing." Parents with more than one child are constantly running from appointment to appointment. I would, however, much rather spend two hours at the pediatrician's office for our annual check-ups than have to go to four half hour appointments spread out over several days.
I have the next 14 years or so to figure this out, right? Maybe by the time my daughters are ready to graduate high school I will have figured out how to get all of them to their appointments without causing too much disruption to their schedules.

Fireworks and Toddlers

I was convinced last year would be the 4th of July... the one where we have a fun cookout and all enjoy the fireworks. It was the first time in years neither Hubby nor I had to work. I prepared the girls by explaining that fireworks are loud but oh so pretty.
The night started out nice. We had a cookout at my in-laws and then we all headed to a lake in their neighborhood to see the show. After the first "boom," all the girls jumped in someone's lap, but they seemed to take it all in stride... all the girls, that is, except for Sue-Sue. She wanted nothing to do with it. She screamed. She cried. She practically tried to climb on my head. I made the decision to walk her back to my in-laws and sit in the car until everyone else was done seeing the fireworks.
Once we were in the car I asked Sue-Sue what was wrong. "It's dark out. We aren't supposed to be outside when it's this dark." Made some sense to me. She and I could see some of the fireworks from the car and she actually enjoyed them that way... but mention leaving the car and she wasn't having it. To this day I'm convinced it's the dark and not the loud noises that bothered her. (She is not typically scared of the dark, but it was the first time she had been outside in the dark).
I won't have a chance to test my theory this year. We have a friend who is a "4th baby" and her birthday party is the next morning. Rather than risk taking four grumpy girls to the party we're skipping the fireworks so we have four happy girls ready to stuff themselves with birthday cake.

Here Comes the Sun

As the mom of four very fair-skinned children I've always slathered them in sunscreen. Better safe than sorry, right? Now information is coming to light which makes me want to pull my hair out. It all started when I read a recent post from the mom blogger at Jungletwins. The sun is dangerous, but now my sunscreen could be, too? What is a mom to do?
We have, so far, avoided sun burns. That in itself is amazing, considering my daughters seem to turn red if you even mention the word "sun." Hubby jokes that he burns faster than an Irish vampire. We are very conscious of how much sun we all expose ourselves to.
My daughters will wear sunglasses with no problems. Hats? Those stay on for about five minutes before I'm suddenly carrying them.
Do I want to protect my daughters from the sun? Absolutely. I just may need to rethink how I'm going to do that.