So long, 7:00 bedtime.

Charlie started climbing out of his crib when he was 17 months old. He didn't just climb out once and then not do it again, like a lot of kids do. Once he figured out he could escape there was no keeping him in. So we promptly took the bottom out of his crib and put his mattress flat on the ground to buy us a few more inches and a little more time. That worked for a couple of months until he figured out that he could tip his entire crib over and use the slats as monkey-bars. By the time he had that down, Caroline had finally gotten brave enough to climb out of her crib on a consistent basis. They were about 20 months old at this point. So we heeded the advice of some friends with much older twins and turned their cribs upside down on top of them like cages. At naptime and bedtime we would lift one side of the crib up off the ground, they would get on hands and knees and climb right in. It wasn't a perfect solution but it at least kept the madness contained to their cages. That lasted until just before they turned 2.

One day we had the brilliant idea to try out toddler beds. Sheer genius, I tell you (insert eye roll here). The first night we were completely shocked that they actually stayed in their beds. I thought it was going to be perfect and wonderful and way better than cages. I couldn't have been more wrong! It didn't take long for them to start getting out of bed. And pull every single article of clothing out of their drawers. And try on every single sock and every single shoe. And try fit six bowties around their waist at a time. Every time I entered their room, there was no floor to be seen.

But at least the mess was contained. Their room only. I could live with that. And then they figured out how to open doors. The dreaded day of days. I woke up at 4:30 AM with a tiny little finger (not mine) stuck up my nose. Good thing I had doorknob covers in stock and ready to pull out when needed. It took Charlie less that a day to figure out how to break them off the doorknobs (on Caroline's bidding, probably. I always say she is the brains and he is the muscle). For over a week they woke up between 4:30 and 5:30 AM. If there is one good thing about that, though, it is that it made me really appreciate their standard 7:30 AM wakeup time, which I used to think was far too early for little humans to be up and roaming around.

We passed the super early wake-up phase, thank heavens. And now we are stuck in the "never going to sleep" era. Oh how I miss those days of putting them down at 7:00 and knowing they would be asleep before long. I used to really look forward to bedtime. And now I dread it. Dread with a capital D. Caroline wants the light on so she can read. Charlie hates the light on but wants the door open with the hall light on. Caroline doesn't like the door open and keeps getting up to shut it. Charlie wants his bear to sit up next to him in bed but his bear keeps falling over, because it's stuffed and stuffed bears don't sit up very well. And when stuffed bears don't sit up very well, that's cause for many many tears in our house. Caroline demands that every single book in sight be on her bed. But then she can't lay down because the books are taking up the entire surface area of her bed. And heaven forbid you take the books out of the room. She NEEDS her books. If there is even a single book on top of the dresser, you'd better believe she will be found standing in one of the drawers trying to climb onto the top of the dresser to get it down and safely into her bed with the other books. Charlie has at least eight blue blankies. And try as I might to hide all but one or two of them in the dresser, he goes to bed with a couple of them and cries and cries that he needs "mo' blankies." He would steal Caroline's in a heart beat if she'd let him.

You get the gist. Lots of tears and bedtime. And when there aren't tears, there are giggles. I love giggles. But giggles are now an indication that somebody is out of bed and running around the room with a bare bum and yelling "nakey nakey!". How do you even get mad about that? Especially when accompanying the bare bum are a pair of blue dinosaur rain boots and the cutest little head of white hair you've ever seen?

Long story short, our 7:00 bedtime has turned into 7:00 bedtime that doesn't actually end until 9:30. I'm not too hopeful that it will get better anytime soon!

Turning Two

I'm in denial. I have been for quite some time, actually. As of Monday, my babies are two. A little over two years ago I was a whale. I was so swollen I could barely fit flip flops on my feet. I turned heads everywhere I went. I slept in a chair, surrounded by 20+ pillows. I ate a watermelon a day (seriously. I lived on watermelon). And then at 6:22 and 6:28 PM on August 10, my life changed forever.

Suddenly it wasn't about me anymore. I didn't matter how swollen or uncomfortable I was, or how often I had to pee. I was consumed with love for two little tiny humans, and I spent every waking moment (which was about 23 1/2 hours per day for the first 5 weeks) worried about whether they had enough to eat, were warm enough, and had a clean diaper.

And now I still worry about them constantly. Just about different things. I worry about them breaking every bone in their tiny bodies when they fly kamikaze off of the couch and onto the floor. I worry about them being nice to other kids and others being nice to them. I worry about them getting cavities and eating a balanced diet. And every day I love them in a whole new way. Every day they make me laugh and burst with pride and want to pull my hair out (usually all within a matter of 4 minutes).

The last few months have been full of changes for my little people. Milestones. Transition to toddler beds. Potty training at 20 and 23 months. Moving from clothing sizes that end in "months" to ones that end in "T". Talking up a storm and communicating their emotions so well. They've handled the transitions like champs. Yet another sign that they are growing up. And as exciting as it is to see them grow and change and learn, it's also heart wrenching because I just want them to stay little forever.

Outnumbered

I grew up in a family of 7. It was my mom, my dad, and 5 super awesome daughters. My poor dad - he is a very patient man. He handled it pretty well. He does blame us (the girls) for every single gray hair and every last inch of balding on his head, and I think he's probably right in doing that. We didn't exactly give him an easy time. I think I remember one of my sisters getting caught using my mom's razor to shave my dad's head while he was napping in the bathtub. I personally recall drawing pictures all over any part of exposed skin with my mom's lipstick while he napped on the couch (maybe he should have learned not to ever nap while we were around). My mom even has some blackmail pictures of him wearing one of her dresses, some heels, makeup and jewelry. He would occasionally let us paint his toenails and put clips in his hair. He was a good sport. And he was always our biggest supporter. Whatever we were doing - whether it was a sporting event, a play, cheerleading or a spelling bee - he made an effort to be there. In short, my dad is a rockstar.

When I was little, we bought a boat. Most of us called it the banana boat because it was as yellow as a perfectly ripe banana, but my dad officially named it "Outnumbered." It was quite fitting. The guy was surrounded by 6 females constantly. Even when we all started having kids of our own, it was years before a boy finally made an appearance.

I think I'm starting to have some sympathy pains for my dad's experiences. Not being outnumbered in terms of gender, but simply being outnumbered by my children. When it was just me and Charlie and Caroline at home, it was manageable. Crazy, yes, but doable. And then when Forrest was home from work we could move to a man-on-man defense. It worked well for us. Enter Juliet. Now life is a whole different story!

Life is now a whole new level of crazy. Still wonderful, of course. But so crazy. Juliet and I have had to learn to breastfeed "on the go." Meaning that I often have to jump up with her in the middle of a feeding to pry Charlie away from Caroline before he rips a chunk of hair out of her head. Or I have to intervene when Caroline is about to slam the door on Charlie's little fingers. Or when one of them has climbed onto the kitchen counter and is headed straight for something dangerous.

As an added bonus, I now have 3 children in 3 different sizes of diapers. Not at all confusing! My plan is to potty train ASAP, though I don't know how in the world I can give the twins enough attention to successfully potty train while I'm feeding a baby around the clock. Wish me luck with that one!

Even when Forrest is home to help, leaving the house takes us about 5,692 times longer than it used to. And once we do finally get out the door, inevitably someone is hungry, or a diaper needs changed, or I forgot to stock the diaper bag with diapers, wipes, or an extra change of clothes. Or I forgot to brush my teeth. Gross, I know, but when you are so focused on getting 3 little bodies ready to leave, it's easy to forget the basic things like that!

In all honesty though, having Juliet at home has still been 100 times easier than the first couple of months with the twins. Having two newborns was just so demanding! With only one baby to wake up with in the night, I feel so well rested. Seriously. So much easier with one, even though I am woefully outnumbered.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Things have been a little crazy around here lately, in case you were wondering why I've been so absent from the online world. There are some major changes coming up for us in the very near future - and I couldn't be more excited about them!

About a week before Christmas, Forrest was offered a job at a new company that would allow him to work much better hours and spend so much more time at home with our family. He accepted and just started his new job this week. His time in public accounting was good to us, but we were so ready for the change and I can't even begin to explain how excited we are about his new opportunity!

When Forrest accepted the job, we realized it was time for us to move so that we could be closer to his work. We had also promised each other that the next time we moved, it would be into our own house. All the stars aligned and we were able to find the perfect home for us, very close to Forrest's work and in a great area. We are now under contract to purchase the home and are hoping to close at the end of next month. After renting apartments for 7 years, we could not be more thrilled at the prospect of owning our own home and having space for all of our stuff!

And in the midst of all this, I am nearly 34 weeks pregnant with our little munchkin. The week we close on our house is also the week of my due date. Sometimes Forrest and I think about things and wonder why in the world we always choose to take all of these life changes at once. We moved to Utah 5 weeks after the twins were born. And now a job change, buying a house and moving, and having baby #3 all at once - I know we are a little crazy. But the changes are all so good and I am so looking forward to everything.

The hard part about the upcoming move and the baby coming soon is being in limbo about preparing for baby. All of the clothes, bassinet, burp cloths, bottles etc. are already packed up in storage containers and ready to move. I would love to leave them like that until we are in the house, but what if the baby comes early? Who knows what we'll end up doing. My rough plan is to get everything washed and ready and put into an easily accessible bag that we could use whether we are in our apartment or the house when the baby comes.

Wish us luck!