Seriously, there is nothing to see here if you think I’m going to be giving out advice or encouragement about having three kids. Hah! Catch me. I’m even afraid to answer when people ask how it is, having three kids. I still feel like a total fraud at it, anyway; with Prima and Secundus happily stashed away at daycare five days a week, I can hardly give a realistic account of what it is really like for many women who are home all day, every day, with small children.

You know – if anything, I’m living the dream. I have the “work” of one baby during the day, coupled with the lackadaisical attitude of a seasoned mom. No more will I spend my days in interminable power struggles with a baby who won’t nap. She’ll just come along for the ride as long as possible and if napping occurs – super. (And note: she actually is taking a nap right now. By herself. In her bassinet. She only does that maybe once a day but it is enough time to usually sit down for a minute and do the kinds of chores that don’t really lend themselves to being tackled with a baby on your hip.)

I did have a flashing moment of clarity today on the having three kids phenomenon though, one that I thought was perhaps worth sharing. It’s my profound observation that…everything keeps on going. Seriously. Could you imagine? Your life is changed forever-ever and you don’t even have a minute to slow it all down and take it in, because all the other parts keep on moving.

It all hit home hard today when I came downstairs in the morning and discovered the kids gone to daycare…with Pink Minnie lying abandoned on the floor. I literally stopped in my tracks. Pink Minnie cannot be at home when Prima is at daycare. Oh no. This is bad. She has never slept without Pink Minnie, save the horrible day that will live on in infamy when we lost the original during a cross-border trip. (She was hastily replaced by substitute Pink Minnies of different sizes that she already had in her room, and ultimately replaced by one that was pretty much identical to the original…desperate times.) I almost ran to my phone and messaged my husband – “DID YOU FORGET SOMETHING TODAY?” (The subtext being “dumbass,” obviously. Would have been redundant to actually say it.)

No, he wrote back, immediately knowing what I meant. She didn’t want to take Pink Minnie today. She wanted a different stuffed toy.

A different…toy? What sick joke is this? But it is only too true. Apparently the time has come for her to throw away childish things, thankfully only to replace them with other childish things, but seriously. She’s 3.5. I didn’t know she was going to change. Or at least, maybe I did, but I didn’t think it would be so…obvious. I thought this stuff was supposed to sneak up on you, so that you could ignore it, only to have it hit you like a ton of bricks at some later date when you flip through albums, skimming over years in an instant. And then I remembered that Josh mentioned Secondus had flung Pink Lovey out of his crib the other night – another epic event. I half don’t believe this actually happened. My husband is getting old and I’m sure there’s some vision loss happening there, because what the f—? Secondus can’t sleep without Pink Lovey! He has, however, come to think of it, been changing a lot too…all of a sudden the boy who couldn’t be bothered to look at us when we called his name (triggering fears of autism on the part of a pediatrician!) is chatting up a storm. He’s been asking for “help please” and “water please.”

So there you have it. Having three kids has taught me nothing so far, other than the fact that when my attention is otherwise occupied, my children are going to grow up and before I know it they will be translating Virgil and preparing college applications at the kitchen table. In other words, there is no time to think about further profundities.

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