May10

[Lack of] Sleep Log

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Krissy Mac

KJ left for five days in London on Sunday, so I decided that as the sole parent responsible for dealing with ALL nighttime activity – bedtime and nightmares and crib-climbing, oh my! – I would keep a log detailing everything that goes down in the average five-night period, between the hours of 6:30pm and 6:30am.

Please note: I know that nobody really cares about my kids’ nighttime sleep schedules. But someday, when I miss my kids because they prefer their friends’ company over mine and/or are 848 miles away at college and/or they’re living overseas somewhere teaching English and/or they’re drinking too much and forgetting to call me every five minutes, I’m going to pull this post up and read it over and over again.

SUNDAY

10:30 pm: The Loud One starts screaming. When LO screams, it’s a pretty safe bet she’s experiencing one of her NIGHT TERRORS. Dum, dum, dum.

Now, while “Night Terrors” sounds like a really bad horror movie destined to have four sequels, they’re actually no joke. You can read more about them HERE or you can just believe me when I say that night terrors turn your kid into an agitated zombie who babbles incoherently and moves their body in weird ways.

When LO is experiencing one, as she was on Saturday night, she will talk – or scream – but not make any sense; look us right in the eye but have no idea that we’re there; and scramble around the top bunk like she’s trying to escape from a tree that’s too high off the ground.

We usually just try to make physical contact – hold her hand or hug her – and say soothing things like “You’re OK… you’re just spending a little time in CrazyTown right now” or “LO, can you hear me? Tell your subconscious that it’d be great if you could sleep past 6:00 tomorrow morning…”

But this was a particularly bad one, so I lifted her out of the top bunk and carried her back to my room. I just held her in my lap, while she frantically jerked and yelled, and waited it out.

Eventually, she calmed down and I could feel her body release all the tension. She looked right at me and I said, “Are you OK now? You just had a bad dream.”

And she said, “Oh. I did?”

Um, yeah.

2:49 am: HD yelling, “Fix my blankies, please!” At least he’s polite in the middle of the night.

5:22 am: The Nibbit needs help. Wiping. Awesome.

Let the day begin!

MONDAY

Loud One and I have a deal that if she wakes up in the middle of the night when KJ is away, she can stay in our bed.

The second KJ walks out the door for any trip she starts asking, “Can I sleep in your bed?” every five minutes.

6:40 pm: The Nibbit is asleep. Let the angels sing. LO follows around 7:15.

7:47 pm: LO is up, “Can I sleep in your bed now?” No.

8:00 pm: HD is still awake. He’s yelling, “I need water! I need a truck! I need another song!” I go in and give him water, a truck and a song. I’m such an effing pushover.

8:15 pm: LO is up, “Can I sleep in your bed yet?” No.

10:20 pm: “How about now?” Finally, I turn off Grey’s Anatomy and let her climb in. (Yeah, I still watch Grey’s Anatomy. Shut up.)

2:25 am: Someone cries. I ignore it and it either goes away or I just fall back in a deep enough sleep to be able to ignore it.

2:50 am: Either that same someone is crying again or perhaps STILL crying. I get up. It’s Happy Dude and he’s upset because he “doesn’t want that!” I have no idea what he’s talking about so I say, “Me neither,” tuck him back in and go back to bed.

TUESDAY

7:30 pm: Everyone’s asleep… for now.

10:45 pm: LO comes running in and doesn’t even ask… just crawls right into bed with me.

4:34 am: HD is screaming for Amanda. In case anyone is wondering if I get upset that my baby screams for the babysitter in the middle of the night instead of me, the answer is no. In fact, no one wants Amanda to show up at 4:30 in the morning more than I do.

4:57 am: The Nibbit is crying… loudly… “You forgot to tuck me in!” It’s almost five in the morning; are you freaking kidding me? I get up and literally throw the bedspread over his body and walk out.

5:36 am: The Nibbit is now screaming because he has poked himself in the eye. ????!?!?!?!?!?! He’s up for good, of course so I do what any rational parent does at that hour… give him the iPad and go back to sleep.

5:58 am: HD is now also up for good. He gets Cars II on the TV. And I go back to sleep

6:20 am: HD is crying because he has a snake in his mouth. WTF? I stagger in there wondering what he could possibly be talking about and it’s a HAIR. In his mouth. Gross. I WISH I WAS KIDDING.

WEDNESDAY

We make it all the way until 3:12am with no wakings! Victory!

3:12 am: The Nibbit is yelling “MY COVERS ARE RUINED! MY COVERS ARE RUINED!” and as I stumble into his room, I mumble “My life is ruined. My life is ruined.”

4:30ish: I’m not sure of the exact time because I was too flabbergasted to write it down. I hear footsteps and assumed it’s the Nibbit again, but he never comes into the room. I force myself to get out of bed and HAPPY DUDE – you know, the one that still sleeps in the CRIB – is walking down the stairs.

This is not the first time he has climbed out of his crib, but I thought we had convinced him of the mortal dangers of doing so a few weeks ago. And it was certainly the first time he’s done it in the middle of the night. A bit disconcerting to say the least. I got him back to sleep, but then he…

6:00 am: … climbs back out. This time, he never wakes me up. He just goes straight downstairs to hang out with the Nibbit. I decide that I’m totally OK with that.

THURSDAY

Last night was relatively quiet. Either that, or I was SO TIRED I just slept through all of night terrors and crib-climbing and uncooperative covers and God knows what else.

KJ comes home tonight. We missed him.

Goodnight.

The only difference between my life and this picture is that THIS KID STAYS IN HIS CRIB.

May2

Dinosaurs & Skulls

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Krissy Mac

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I don’t have any big parenting dilemmas or issues to discuss this week – well, I always have parenting issues, but nothing about which I have any coherent thoughts – so I thought I’d just share two stories with you guys.

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I’ve sort of slacked off on the Friday Funnies for the past… long time… but this conversation happened yesterday so I thought I’d share it. I believe it really shines some insight onto how kids’ brains work… or in this instance, don’t.

The Nibbit and I had this conversation in the car (of course) and after the first couple of comments, I pulled over so that I could write them down. (See how I did that? See how I snuck in the fact that I wasn’t typing while driving? Mother of the Year!!)

The conversation never paused, so we just sat there on the side of the road… him talking, me answering (sort of not really) and typing frantically without letting him notice so that it wouldn’t interrupt the flow.

The Nibbit: I see eggs.

Me: Huh. Where?

N: Outside. Is it Easter?

Me: No, Easter passed already… remember when the Easter Bunny came and brought you that kick-ass basket? (No, didn’t say kick ass. But I WANTED to. WTF, “is it Easter?” Kids don’t remember shit. Next think I know, he’ll be saying, “I wish we could go on a vacation… just once” or “It would be so great if you’d just make mac & cheese three nights in a row for dinner!” as if those things NEVER happen. Whatever.)

N: How many days ago was it?

Me: I’m not sure … it was a little over a month ago.

N: Yeah, but how many DAYS?

Me: 48 (That was a lie guess, but he didn’t know that. Don’t judge.)

N: That’s a lot of days ago.

Me <bored with this conversation>: Hmmmm… let’s put music on!

N: Is there a road under us?

Me: Um, no.

N: How do you know?

Me: Because there aren’t many underground roads where we live.

N: How do you know?

Me: Because I think I would have seen or at least read about them.

N: Maybe they’re secret roads.

Me <going with it>: You’re totally right! That would be awesome if there was a whole intricate system of underground roads underneath us!

N <bored with this conversation>: It would be cool if there was a dinosaur farm. I mean, house.

Me <still trying to go with it>: You mean, living underground by the secret roads?

N: Mom, there are no secret roads.

Me: Oh, you convinced me that there might be!

N: No. You’re wrong. I was right. There’s not. But there definitely might be dinosaurs.

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We have a tradition that every year in the spring, Grandma (KJ’s mom) comes up to our house for a weekend and she and Charlie (with some other helpers) plant flowers in our front yard. They’ve done it for the past three years.

I think it was the second year that we discovered that the hydrangea bushes we have along the front of the house (NOT the pretty kind) are somewhat diseased and have creatures living on them. (By creatures,” I mean “tiny worms that create cocoons around themselves with leaves.”)

Lovely, right? Well, the Loud One was THRILLED about this.

Every year, Grandma puts her straight to work finding all of these “cocoons” and taking them off of the bushes. Of course, LO has to unwrap every single one to check out the worm on the inside. She then says some form of farewell/apology – “Bye Mr Worm! Sorry I have to kill you!” – before throwing it into an enormous, black garbage bag.

Repeat this approximately 489 times and you have the absolute highlight of LO’s spring.

(Please don’t ask why we haven’t replaced the bushes with something healthy and perhaps, worm-free. Because I will lie to you and tell you that it’s not that I’m lazy; it’s just that it would kill my worm-loving daughter’s SPIRIT. Yup, that’s what I’d say alright.)

Well, we had this de-worming, flower-planting activity scheduled with Grandma this past weekend, but due to our unusually chilly nights, we were advised by people who really know what they’re doing (i.e. the nursery employees) to wait a few weeks.

The Loud One was really upset and Grandma was bummed because we’re not sure if Grandma will make it back up to plant. And LO knows that planting flowers with Mom and Dad won’t be NEARLY as much fun because we won’t marvel at all the worms she unwraps, like Grandma does.

Grandma says things like, “Good one Loud One!” and “That one is huge!”

Whereas Mom will say things like, “That’s disgusting; go wash your hands. Yes, again,” and “Please don’t show me anymore worms.”

So, Grandma came up anyway despite the flower-planting cancellation (which might have had a teeny tiny bit to do with the fact that Grandma was also babysitting our kids that night) and she and Charlie discussed how disappointed they were about not being able to strip sick worms of their ~~diseased bushes~~ homes and plant flowers.

BUT THEN….

Grandma pulled out THIS:

What exactly is this, you’re wondering?

Well, THIS is a SKULL of a [presumably dead] SQUIRREL.

Should I repeat that?

Grandma brought the Loud One a SQUIRREL SKULL that she FOUND IN HER YARD.

Well.

You would have thought it was a free pass to an extra-large candy buffet. LO LOVES THIS SKULL. She brought it to the bus stop the next day to show her friends there. Then she brought it into school to show her teacher and her classmates.

After that, she left it in the car where it scared the bejesus out of me when I pulled it out of the backseat cup holder without looking first.

Grandma and LO are Nature Soul Mates.

I’m so glad and grateful that she has Grandma to encourage and appreciate her passion for all things disgusting nature.

Because she’s certainly not getting that stuff from me… you know, encouragement, appreciation, SKULLS.

These are just a few of the creatures that LO has loved through the years.
And there are a couple of pictures where she’s just searching for new ones.

Apr25

To the Nibbit, with love (I swear)

Posted on April 25, 2013 by Krissy Mac

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Dear Nibbit,

I love you. Let me repeat that so you really hear it. I love love love you.

But, I have to tell you something (and I want you to know that I say this out of the-above-stated love): You are DRIVING. ME. CRAZY.

Like driven-to-the-edge-flailing-on-my-tippy-toes-waving-my-arms-in-circles-to-maintain-my-balance-on-the-edge crazy. (OK, so that didn’t really sound like it was so much “out of love.” Sorry. Let’s get out of it.)

You stop when I need you to go; you run when I need you to slow down; you stand when I need you to sit and when I need you to stand? You collapse on the floor like the top scoop of a melting ice cream cone. Plop. And it’s just as tricky to scrape you back up off the floor. I say yes; you say no. I say please; you say something to the effect of, “Blah blah blah baby diaper!”

Some days I’m closer to the edge than others. Some days I can do all the right things… diffuse our stand-offs with humor, tolerate a little more freshness, maintain an admirable degree of patience, etc. and I am able to keep a respectable distance from that precipice.

But other days? Not so much. And I am sorry about that.

But you push, buddy. You push and push and push and then JUST when I’m about to topple over into the abyss of really losing my shit, you look at me with those giant, blue seaballs and they open so wide that I can see all of you – mischief and silliness and laughter and more than a little bit of crazy – and I wonder if maybe you’re just trying to figure it all out.

Maybe you’re just trying to figure out how much you can push. How much we can take. How to make yourself heard. How to gain some control. How to get some attention. How to differentiate yourself from The Loud One – who gets to do everything first – and Happy Dude – who gets to do everything cute.

Maybe that’s it? Or maybe I’m giving you too much credit. (I do worry that this is what parents of brats tell themselves.)

Me too, Marilu! But sometimes it feels like I don't have a choice.

Clearly, I need this book.

But I don’t think so. Because bottom line, I know you’re awesome.

I think all of this crap (and by “all of this crap,” I mean, “all of YOUR crap”) – the freshness, the defiance, the physical aggression – is going to slowly ~~disappear~~ ~~dissipate~~ decrease. Or at least you’re going to get a grip on it. I think we’re going to get a grip on it. We’re going to get out of it. Hopefully soon.

I can’t wait for that day. Because the Nibbit, you are funny and sweet and smart and affectionate. And I can’t wait to be able to play card games and ride bikes and build forts with you without having to take deep breaths and count to ten, physically pry you off of your brother or say any of the following:

Please keep your hands to yourself.
Do not tell me what you’re NOT going to do.
I don’t want to ask you again.
If you can’t be a good listener, I will have to [remove some type of screen you’re your life for the next xx period of time.]

I write this today because, believe it or not, I don’t want to complain about your behavior anymore. To you, to Dad, to Aunt Lori or to any other mother that will listen. I’m tired of venting about you. So now, I’ve gotten it all out there. And now, I’m going to try to stop. I’m going to try to coast through the rest of this phase (please Lord, let it be a phase) with as much patience as I can possibly muster.

I’m going to focus on your awesomeness instead of your, well, Nibbitness.

I’m going to take a lot of deep breaths.

I’m going to step back from the edge. Because trust me, I don’t like to be there.

All of that said, if this is indeed “just a phase,” it would be really fantastic if you could maybe just… end it?

Love you to outer space on a rocket ship like the one we saw on YouTube and back,

Mom

Apr18

French Fries in Paradise

Posted on April 18, 2013 by Krissy Mac

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We’re on “vacation.” Yup, those are air quotes. I use the air quotes because while this trip has had the outward appearance of a vacation – sun, swimming, restaurants, even a few frozen cocktails – it is sorely lacking in some key vacational elements like, say, relaxation… long, uninterrupted naps on a lounge chair… trashy beach novels… and many more cocktails.Now, I can’t complain too much. Amanda is here with us, which allows us to work on a man-to-man defense as opposed to the more-exhausting zone defense. This also means that whomever gets to take Happy Dude for nap time gets a full Nibbit-free hour-and-a-half, so THAT’S awesome. (Granted, you have to take a leisurely stroll around the 9,358 acre property for him to sleep, but still.)

Aw, I’m just kidding. (Sort of.) We’re having a wonderful, ~~leisurely~~, fun, ~~restful~~ time.*

It’s also been educational. Here are just a few of things that I’ve learned:

Wrestle Baby is way more intensely competitive in a hotel room than it is at home.

$40/per person is too much to spend on a buffet if three of the people only take one helping of mac-and-cheese and a scoop of Ben & Jerry’s. And then don’t eat the mac-and-cheese.

“You are what you eat” can’t possibly be true, because if it were, I would no longer have kids, I would have french fries.

Water slides NEVER get old. Even if they’re the same three, short water slides. Over and over and over again.

Fellow hotel guests do NOT like to hear your kids playing with their new remote control cars at 7:30am. I can’t say I blame them, but I don’t like hearing that shit either, so better them than me.

Side note: they have something here called the Speedway. For an insane amount of money, your kids can design, build and race their own remote control race car. It’s very fun and adorable. Until 3 1/2 members of your five-person family end up in tears because of the following reasons: My car won’t work! I want to win! I hate to lose again and again! I’m not good at driving this! This doesn’t feel like vacation! (One of those was me. Guess which one. Yup, I’m the 1/2.)

We could take Happy Dude anywhere in the world as long as we have a bag of cars and trucks with us. Literally ANYWHERE. Island, city, war-zone… wouldn’t matter.

Baby sharks make my kids very happy. I’m going to consider replacing Squeaky & Pip with one.

A lazy river makes my kids very exhausted. I’m going to consider replacing our swingset with one.

I’d make an excellent lifeguard.

The following rules will need to be implemented BEFORE we leave for our next vacation:

No one under the age of (Loud One’s age + 1) gets to push an elevator button or use the room key.
No one over the age of 4 gets to sit in a stroller until after 3pm.
Sunblock will be applied as often as an adult deems necessary. Any complaining will result in additional applications.
Ice cream will be limited to once a day. Most days. If you injure both of your siblings in the same day, no ice cream for you.
Our normal wake-up rules apply. Do not even think about getting out of bed if the first number on the digital clock is a five. I don’t care how excited you are for the water slides. They don’t open for another FOUR hours.

There are many, many, many kids in this world – or at least on this island – that are more annoying than mine. In fact, mine are pretty great. Exhausting, but great.

Signing off from Paradise…

Our new pet, Fluffy.

PS. FYI, by the time you read this, we’ll be home. But for future notice, you should know that we have a state-of-the-art alarm that we sometimes remember to use. We also have a house/petsitter. And two, fierce guard dogs. And two, fierce guard guinea pigs. Oh, and now a shark.

Apr11

Grief

Posted on April 11, 2013 by Krissy Mac

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The Loud One woke up cranky and lethargic, with a fever. Happy Dude was not so happy when two poop explosions (editor’s note: we’re now up to four) left him with a terrible diaper rash. And the Nibbit… well, he’s just been a little bit extra nibbity all day long. I forgot it was Beach Day at school, spilled rodent food all over the floor and then stubbed my toe trying to clean it up.

Yup, today sucks. But it’s April 11^th so it all makes sense.

Today marks the 10^th anniversary of my mom’s death.

Side note: If right now you’re saying, “Oh geez, not another post about her mom,” I say to you the following, in the nicest way: I warned you in the last post this one was coming. If you’re looking for parenting foibles, don’t you worry, I’ll be back with plenty of those really soon.

I completely GET IT if you can’t do negativity today… maybe today is your birthday or maybe you’re just feeling so happy that it’s getting warmer or maybe it’s the anniversary of your first Starbucks drink – what? You don’t celebrate that? If that’s the case, I do not want to bring you down. Signoff and come back in ten days. I promise I’ll be back with a fun kids-really-know-how-to-screw-up-a-vacation post.

But for me, it’s a shitty day. It’s a symbolic shitty day, but for some reason, the symbolism somehow always manifests itself in fevers and poop explosions and stubbed toes. And I can’t speak for everyone that has lost a loved one, but talking about my Mom and grief – and even more so, writing about it – makes today slightly less shitty. (Not to mention that I know she loves the attention…)

I have debated whether or not this blog – a place mostly intended to make light of parenting difficulties and my massive flaws in managing them – is a place for it (grief, drama, sappiness, sadness) and then I have decided that yes, yes it is. Because it’s alllll connected….

OK, on that existential note, let’s move on.

Grief is tricky.

It’s true that time heals. After a loss, every moment of every day is painful. That gets better. You start having more OK moments than not-OK moments. Then, some happy ones creep in. You start laughing more and the shock waves of sadness come less often. Not never – it won’t ever be never – but less often. (I was channeling Taylor Swift there for a minute.)

BUT (and here’s where I get REALLY Debbie Downer)…

There is one way in which the feeling of loss gets worse, deeper. At least in my case, it’s the fact that as time passes and the years go by, the amount of life I have lived without my Mom has increased, so I experience more and more important life moments, and therefore create more memories, without her. That is very, very sad. Therefore, my grief is worse. (Wow, that was kind of like math.)

In the ten years since my Mom died, a LOT of life-changing shit has happened to me.

I re-met KJ (in fact, it was my Mom’s funeral that brought us back together… I like to think of it as her final act in my life… but that’s a different post), planned a wedding, got married, had a baby, moved to the suburbs and had two more babies and I simply cannot believe I’ve done all of that without her.

I’ve lived an entire grown-up lifetime without her.

None of this is new… I wrote about all of it right here. I wrote about how hard it is to be a mother, without a mother. And that will never change.

Because that’s how grief works. You’re mostly fine until it sneaks up on you out of the blue one day and knocks you down.

The other day, Happy Dude was hacking up a lung and I wanted to give him cough medicine, but it was labeled, “Age 4 and under: do not give.” I debated whether he was too young… yet, he weighs as much as some four-year olds, so it must be fine. Right? There are a lot of people I could have called to ask for advice – my sister, friends, his pediatrician – but I wanted my Mom. She’s not here. So I cried.

I know I do not have to detail all of the events that make me miss my Mom. Because so many of you are living through them as well. If you’re lucky enough to have your Mom with you, than you get it. And if you’re not, than you get it more. (And if that’s the case, I hope you’ll join me for Margaritas on Mother’s Day.)

I felt it after I had each of my kids. I had the normal “baby blues” to a certain extent – but it was coupled with a feeling of complete homesickness that I know came from missing her.

And there it is. Today, I am homesick for my Mom.

A few days ago, on her birthday, we had a toast to DiDi at dinner. I heard some of the same questions I’ve heard before from the kids… is DiDi in heaven? (Yes.) Do you wish you could see her? (Very much so.) I missed her, but I laughed at my kids talking about their visions of heaven. I wished she was there to see them, to meet them, but I didn’t cry.

Most days are easier. Some days are hard.

Some moments are impossible.

Grief is tricky.

Mom1

Apr7

Happy Birthday, Mom

Posted on April 7, 2013 by Krissy Mac

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Dear Mom,

Happy [mumble number]^th Birthday!

IMG_0613 - Version 2

I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to publish your age in this public forum – where at least 18 people will read this – and I can respect that.

I’ve been writing a post about you that I think you’re going to love. But it’s not ready yet, so I’ll save that for later this week.

In the meantime, in honor of your birthday, I’ve made a list of all the things I’m going to do today. Well, all the things I’m going to THINK about doing today. I’ve put in it list form because, well, they didn’t call you “Steps” for nothing. (To be honest, I would have done the list anyway… the organized apple didn’t fall far from the organized tree and all that.)

Here we go:

I’m going to make sauce, with the sausage “just for flavor” … even though I hate the flavor.

I’m going to eat it with a steak because I just feel like I need some red blood cells.

I’m going to make sure all of the food is HOT.

I’m going to remind my kids to always “be aware.” Of everything. All the time.

I’m going to use the diffuser on my hair because it gives it a “nicer curl.” Then, I’m going to pull it half back because it just “frames my face nicely.”

I’m going to tell my kids “I just need a hug today” and squeeze them a little bit tighter and longer than necessary.

I’m going to watch out for wet leaves on the road. (Those things are sneaky killers.)

I’m going to try to get a stranger to tell me his/her life story and then say, “I don’t know why… people just like to tell me things.”

I’m going to call Aunt San four times and then sigh heavily and say, “Oh San…”

I’m going to invite everyone I know over to my house and of course, I’ll have chips and dip and ten other snacks out. When they try to leave, I’m going to tell them to stay just a little bit longer. Then I’m going to invite them to move in.

While they’re here, I’m going to feed them a big meal. We’ll have pasta to start and maybe a filet. Oh and a turkey… as a side dish. And I’ll make sure I have everyone’s favorites. (I’m not going to make brisket because even though it’s Lori’s favorite, according to her, no one can make it as good as yours.)

I’m going to spend the whole time everyone is here bragging about my kids.

I may read someone a press release about Tom.

I’m going to drink a giant glass of Chardonnay.

I’m going to have my picture taken and do the [look down for 1…2…3… ] head flip! maneuver.

I’m going to call Hong Kong Kitchen and place an order in your honor.

I’m going to remind my kids AGAIN that they have a grandmother named Didi in heaven that would have loved them more than anyone else in the entire world.

I’m going to think about a lifetime of happy memories that you created on Valley View Drive, both before and after you knocked down the kitchen wall so that you wouldn’t miss out on any conversations.

I’m going to curse fucking cancer to hell and back.

I’m going to curl up under the Monster blanket and miss you big.

And I’m going to do – or think about doing – ALL of this while wearing an OUTFIT.

Because I spend a lot of money on clothes and why do I always have to look like a ragamuffin?

Happy Birthday, Mom.

Celebrating your 60th… “Oh Tom, you make me laugh.”

This was your last birthday that we celebrated together. You were really sick, but we still had quite the dessert spread.

Apr2

Brothers & Sister

Posted on April 2, 2013 by Krissy Mac

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Dear Brood,

Remember yesterday morning when you guys were all laughing hysterically with each other and I SPUN around in my desk chair with my most mean face and used my angry voice to say, “That’s it! I have had enough with all of this LAUGHING! I am TRYING to focus and all of your giggling is DISTRACTING me and I cannot TAKE IT ANYMORE! You are all going to come home from school and spend the rest of the day in your rooms!”

Hahahahahaha, the looks on your faces were so awesome. Granted, the Happy Dude was pretty clueless and just kept talking about his mobile crane truck. But the Nibbit’s eyes got all wide and scared and the Loud One’s expression was one of confusion and anger mixed together. You guys were all, “What? What did we even do wrong?” as I spouted phrases like “excessive giggling” and “too much happiness at the breakfast table!”

JUST when you were all about to lose it, I yelled… do you remember what I yelled?

HAPPY APRIL FOOL’S DAY!!

Do you remember that? Oh man, that was fantastic.

Loud One, you were pretty much the only one that thought it was funny as your one brother just continued his monologue about construction vehicles and the other one said, “I didn’t really like that joke.”

The point of this story is that I want to tell you that I ALMOST couldn’t do it. As I was sitting at the computer, planning my “angry” speech, I was listening to you guys laughing together and love love loving it and I almost didn’t want to interrupt that moment.

Because here’s the thing, guys. There is nothing in this whole wide world that is more important to me than the three of you liking each other. I mean, really liking each other and enjoying each other’s company. Being more than siblings… being friends.

You will have a lot of friends in your lifetime. You have friends now that you may still even love when you’re 41. (I know, it’s hard to believe… but sometimes friendships just stick hard like glue.)

You will meet new friends along the way – friends from school and activities and sports and summer camp and college and jobs and other jobs and grad school and random cities in which to choose to live and vacations you take and bars you frequent and suburbs and then YOUR kids’ preschool and… the list goes on and on.

You will have friends from these places that stick (I have a friend that would call these people “takeaways”… friends you take away with you into the next phase of your life) but you will also have friendships that come a bit… unglued. You move on; you drift apart; you lose touch.

This is OK. This is normal. This is how it works.

(Of course, Facebook makes all friendships a bit stickier, but that’s a formality.)

Side note kids: don’t cling to virtual relationships. Hold on tight to your real life, in person, meet for lunch/coffee/drinks friends and don’t get too caught up with what everyone on the InterWeb is saying and doing. But that’s another letter for another day.)

Again, my point is that friendships may come and go, BUT YOU WILL ALWAYS HAVE EACH OTHER.

(I know the three of you are rolling your eyes right now saying, “We KNOW, Mom; you tell us that, like, all the time.” Try not to use “like” so much guys; it either is or it isn’t.)

Well, I say it a lot because it’s true. (And also maybe a teeny bit because I sort of hope that one day one of you will write a best-selling book called “KMACisms: Wise Words from My Mom” and in order to do so, I have to give you a lot of material now.) But mostly I say it a lot because it’s true.

Sure, I cried when I found the Nibbit was a boy because I really wanted the Loud One to have a sister. But what the hell did I know then? NOW, four years later, I know that LO got the siblings she was so meant to have! I mean, the three of you fit together like three pieces of the same puzzle. Granted, LO’s has puppies on it and Happy Dude’s has trucks and Nibbit’s has… blah blah blah but whatever! Same puzzle!

So, when you laugh together and treat each other kindly and enjoy each other’s company, well my Starbucks cup runneth over. That’s as good as it gets for me. THAT moment is always my Favorite Part of the Day.

They tell us parents that we should model the behavior we want to see from our kids. Well. I’m not really sure how I’m doing on that front – I’d rather you guys be a bit more patient than I am, with each other and with friends and strangers and especially with the crap drivers out there. And you definitely shouldn’t eat as many Cadbury Eggs in one sitting as I do. But if you can form sibling relationships like the ones I have? Then I’ll be one satisfied Mom.

You guys, each other is who you will have through all the tough stuff in life. Problems with friends, fights with me and Dad, trouble at school, relationships and break-ups, parenting your own kids and eventually a long, long, long time from now, living life after Dad and I are gone. (I’m sure they’ll be arguments over who gets the privilege of caring for me in my old age. That’s only natural.)

TRUST ME. Life can be really, really HARD sometimes. Bad shit will happen. But I promise you… it is infinitely easier if you lean on each other. Share your burdens; lighten your load.

You were born family. Become friends. Stay friends.

You will always have each other.

(Sorry, but I’m going to keep saying it. Take notes for that book.)

Love you to California and the moon and back,

Mom

PS. I’m still really, really happy that I played that joke on you.