the Baumhovers: Whose idea was it to have 3 kids anyway?!

the Baumhovers: Whose idea was it to have 3 kids anyway?!: "The dichotomy between two children and three or more increases exponentially with each child. Two children: easy peasy, one parent takes one..."

Whose idea was it to have 3 kids anyway?!

The dichotomy between two children and three or more increases exponentially with each child. Two children: easy peasy, one parent takes one child, the other parent takes the other child. An easy and efficient way to get one on one time with each child. Three children or more it's not so easy. With each subsequent child it's even harder to find time to spend one on one. So what happens? Does one child suffer more? Is that where the "middle child" syndrome comes in? And even more complicated, what happens if two of them are at the exact same developmental stage? Enter: twins. I have to admit, more than Nicholas, the twins entertain themselves beautifully. It is the nature of twins to be their best friend, which is why it becomes complicated when they need to be separated. Even further, to separate them and pair one up with a sibling of the opposite sex (i.e., Nicholas) or pair one up with a sibling that is far more mature with more, dare I say, sophisticated, interests presents an even more convoluted situation. Nicholas gets frustrated because Jackson is cramping his style or my sweet, cute, girly, dainty, delicate, teeny, tiny Emma ends up running around the house screaming like a banshee "shooting bad guys." So really? Who is my middle child? Technically, it's Emma, but in reality I sort of think it's Nicholas. Because Lord knows, in a house full of boys, the daughter would NEVER be the middle child. Jackson naturally requires more attention because of his age. We have tried to encourage Nicholas to be self-sufficient and have age-appropriate responsibilities, but still ...

I think it is a mother's nature is to preoccupy herself and question the decisions she makes. I constantly wonder if the kids are getting enough of my individual attention. Forrest never worries (about most things. unless it's a recent compulsion. at which point he obsesses and drives me absolutely batty. like now. why can't he just wait until closer to our move date? why do we have to commit to a house RIGHT THIS INSTANT?! i digress ...). His answer is always, "eh, they're fine. they're happy. we do our best." I truly believe that we are. Our kids are adaptable, friendly, outgoing and they seem happy. So that counts for something, right?

the Baumhovers: The Measles? or the Mumps?

the Baumhovers: The Measles? or the Mumps?: "For those of you who have twins you know that under absolutely NO circumstances do you leave them alone for more than thirty seconds. No, it..."

The Measles? or the Mumps?

For those of you who have twins you know that under absolutely NO circumstances do you leave them alone for more than thirty seconds. No, it's really not for the sake of their safety. I can proudly admit that my kids generally know not to stick metal things into electric outlets (though there was that one time that Jackson ... never mind) or things up their noses (though there was that one time Emma pulled a piece off her necklace and shoved it ... never mind) or ... Gosh, I guess Nicholas is the only one who didn't do dumb stuff most other kids have done. Regardless, the first rule of twinhood is NOT to not talk about twinhood, it's to never leave them unsupervised at the mercy of their curiosity, intelligence or, most importantly, their boredom.

As a parent of twins I constantly hear stories from random aunts, or grandparents or sons of sons of sons of twins, or I-have-twins-on-my-mother's-father's-sister's-cousin's-niece's-nephew's-daughter's-aunt's side, but I am sometimes lucky enough to hear a story right from the mouth of a twin and that, folks, is the best advice I can hear. I knew a twin in Sicily who told me escapades about things she and her sister did, and frankly, I'm a little scared. I try (read: TRY) not to leave them unattended and I suffer periodic heart palpitations whenever I'm in another room while they're playing -- quietly. Because silence meets they're up to absolutely no good whatsoever.

This is exactly how fast it happens: Picture this ... I am fixing dinner as they are coloring with markers (you know where this is going) at the kitchen table and I figure I'm technically in the same room so I can focus on whatever bizarre concoction Forrest has requested for that night. Fine, right? So, I come out of my stupor of grating jalapenos (who does this?!) to hear nothing. That's right. Silence. I turn around and Emma has taken a blood red marker and given herself a healthy, but not contagious, dose of raging spotty measles up one arm and right down the other. Monkey-see, monkey do-do, right? Except instead of red, Jackson's measles are superman blue. This is a benign example, and hardly worth even raising my voice, but I'm trembling at the thought of (true story) Jackson dumping a bottle of soap down the toilet, preparing to flush and saying, "Hey, Emma, come watch THIS!"

Laugh, folks. If I don't laugh, I cry.

the Baumhovers: A military life, a family, twin toddlers, and the ...

the Baumhovers: A military life, a family, twin toddlers, and the ...: "So, I'm reading a new book and each time I read one (which is often) it inspires me to write. I was an English major in college so the 40 pa..."

A military life, a family, twin toddlers, and the 6 year old with the attitude we can all only strive for ...

So, I'm reading a new book and each time I read one (which is often) it inspires me to write. I was an English major in college so the 40 page mid-term papers were really no big deal. My husband swears I have a knack for it so he talked me into starting a blog. A blog, I say? What the hell is that? I can't even catch up on Facebook. Honestly, (honestly, I'm really NOT kidding), I just learned the difference between an ipod, an ipod touch, an iphone and an ipad. I'm not exaggerating. You see, I'm a military wife as well and with that comes a plethora of duty stations. I technologically-ignorantly (is that a word?) lived three blissful and wonderful years in Sicily, Italy. I was able to not read papers, listen to FOXNEWS or pay much attention to MSNBC. It was glorious. Alas, as every other military family does, we had to move back to the US, give up (my) expatriate status and live in the reality of a first-world country. It has been a torturous year, and I am still trying to figure out why they don't have year-round markets in Memphis. And, as all military families do, we embark on yet another relocation in May. So, cheers to Philadelphia ... it can't be as bad as Memphis, right?

I have a sweet, thoughtful kindergarten age boy, who truly has the best and most positive intentions at heart even if it doesn't seem that way. I have boy/girl three-year old twins who could not be any more different than black and white. My husband is the kindest and gentlest man ever, but sometimes loses track of things (speaking of which, I should turn the bath water off before the twins begin "catching the perfect wave"). I have an 14 year-old lab mix who probably knows and understand me better than I know myself. And lastly, I have a malevolent 8 year-old dachshund who truly only trusts me, but who will also chase a ball until his paws bleed.

The intention of my blog is to make you laugh. I can't guarantee that I won't drop a serious thought in there every once in a while. However, I swear that experiences in my life which includes random acts of military antagonism, surviving as a military wife, raising twin toddlers, and a 6 year old boy will at times make your sides hurt with laughter at my expense.

Enjoy.