Juggling Act

Over the last several months I have come to realize why three kids has led to the term "chaos of three" in my vocabulary.

Have you ever tried to juggle? Personally, I tried to learn how to do it when I was a kid. But truth be told, I didn't have the patience to stick to it long enough. You are supposed to start by juggling just two balls, with one hand or two. With a little work, you can get that one down pretty easy. It's when you add that third ball that you loose track of things. Somehow it's much easier when you just have to watch two things flying through the air. Maybe it's because so many things in our lives come in pairs that it's more natural for us. You know, things like your eyes, your ears, most body parts for that matter, and romantic relationships (at least we hope). And the list goes one. Pairs are just natural; evenly distributed and symmetrical. Orderly.

You add a third anything to where there was just two and things get exponentially complicated. Unevenly distributed. Unorderly. Or should I say disorderly.

dis-or-der: a state of confusion

That makes sense. Confused, unable to keep track of it all.

As many of you might be able to testify, it is possible to learn how to juggle. It just takes time and dedication. You have to overcome the disorder and confusion.

And once you master it, going back to just two balls in the air probably seems like child's play.

That's how it is around our house. Nowadays, whenever we have just two kids around we feel as if we are having some kind of mini-vacation. Even my babysitters have noticed this effect. So it's not just us crazy parents that feel this phenomenon.

On Thursday night this week my mom had my younger daughter over for a sleepover. She's been doing this from time to time as the girls have gotten to that age where they are comfortable being away from us and look forward to special time with their grandmother. And being away from their siblings.

The girls have also had times when they have both slept over at their grammy and grandpa's house. At those times we are left with just our son to look after. That's no longer child's play; that's baby's play.

We've also had more occurrences lately when my oldest has been away from the house for several hours at a time. She's getting to that age when she enjoys being with her friends as much as possible, so when she's invited over, she goes without abandon and will stay as long as the invitation is open. Of course the parents of her friends are also benefitting as she helps keep their child very happy and busy. And often times these extended play dates become really extended and turn into a sleepover. Again, we are left with only two kids to entertain and care for in times like this.

It never fails that whenever these events happen, my husband and I somehow feel liberated. Even when we still have two kids to take care of, it seems like something we can handle in our sleep. Or single-handedly. So without fail during these times, we will take turns sort of "checking out" of the parenting and letting the other one handle the two kids. We've never really coordinated this effort, it's just sort of what happens. We just think "s/he can handle the two kids for a while...no big deal". Since really that's what we are doing most of the time anyway. Taking turns with one of us handling two kids and the other has the third. Without the third child taking up that other slot, it's like a little vacation time that we get to swap back and forth.

There's also another aspect that makes things easier during this time. The two kids that are left at home get along better. There is no longer that third coming in and competing for attention or trying to upset a happy duo.

Now all of this is not to say that you shouldn't have a third child. Or that we shouldn't have had a third child.

It's just to say that it takes a lot of time and patience to master it. Just like juggling, when you have three balls in the air, it's easy to become confused and hard to keep track of them all. If you take your eyes off one for just a second, you are likely to drop it. So to prevent that you have to be on your toes at all times. There aren't too many breaks that you can take while you are juggling three balls.

With hard work and dedication, you can make it happen. The rhythm can be found if you are patient enough. And even with all the confusion and chaos, it's fun. It's fun to watch and fun to be a part of.

And tiring.

And demanding.

But did I mention that it's also fun?

It is. I promise.

Short Circuit

So far this year has started off with some nice little adventures.

Yesterday my car battery died. And it was just when I was already a few minutes late to pick up my oldest at school. Ordinarily this would have sent me into a mad panic, calling numbers at the school and putting out an APB for help. But having been through this 2 other times already, in the exact same scenario, I just sort of laughed.

And my younger daughter just said "The car's not working again? So I can keep watching my show?" And back she went to the TV. And luckily I hadn't woken up my son yet from his nap. It's generally the last thing I do after everything and everyone is in the car ready to go.

A quick phone call to my carpooling friend, some bartering of pick up days, and the problem was solved. Then I sent a text to my husband telling him to FINALLY get a new battery for the car. He's been fighting me on this one but I just put my foot down this time and said I'd be taking the car in the next day if he didn't do it himself (which I knew he'd insist on, so I had him in a corner).

A short while later my husband arrives home with a battery that "could power the Titanic" he says. So now I think we have at least one problem solved.

The other problem has a bit more trickery involved. It seems that about a week ago, a wee little field mouse found his way into the wall of our kitchen and passed on to greener meadows. And while this happens all over the world every day, especially around our house which is surrounded by (and built on) marshland so nature's furry and feathered wonders are everywhere, for it to happen in this exact spot is a bit of a bummer.

How do we know he's passed on, you ask? Well there's a bit of a smell. A foul order that I mistakenly thought was just the garbage after we had shrimp for dinner one night last week. But after days of the smell lingering, and me cleaning every nook and cranny of our kitchen, we knew something was amiss. When my husband made the suggestion of perhaps there being a dead rodent nearby, I knew he was on to something.

So now we had to really start looking around. Or should I say, he had to start really looking around. I made myself scarce lest I throw up a little in my mouth at the thought of it all.

The result came in as it being inside the wall, or else under the cabinets, as there is no behind the cabinets.

Quick haste I made a call to our friendly neighborhood exterminator who we keep on retainer.

That statement is quite sad, really.

But the Orkin guy came out and in a very polite way he told us we were screwed. Just gotta live with it. Keep spraying the Lysol he says. Spray it into the wall if there are holes. Which there were, but they aren't in the area where the specimen might lie.

So my husband decides to cut out a little hole in the wall around the existing one, which is there for a plumbing pipe. And while cutting out that little hole, he also cuts said pipe.

Ooops.

Now we have to shut off the water and we can't use the sink. Or the dishwasher. It's the drain pipe, so luckily there was no leaking or flooding when this happened.

But it made the thought of making dinner a bit difficult. And unappetizing considering the smell we were trying to mask with our candles and Lysol.

"Let's go out to eat" I say. So we all pack up and head out to the car to get dinner out.

Oops.

The battery is still dead and the super duper turbo one is sitting on the ground awaiting it's new home. "I can do this in 5 minutes" my husband exclaims, and he starts digging around his tool box.

In the mean time I decide to put the extra carseats in his car and then call him off the project. Just in time as he's starting to get a bit (more than) frustrated at this point, as evidenced by flying objects in the garage.

But this works out well because then he can swing by Home Depot to pick up something to repair the pipe.

After a fine meal at Chipotle and a quick errand done, we decide to splurge on Jamba Juice for dessert. We arrive to see that it seems like they are trying to close early. We soon find out that their cash register is broken down, so they decide to just start doing everything the old fashioned way, adding it up with a calculator and counting back the change. They are very appreciative of our patience during this process.

Hey, we know what it feels like to have things not really go the way you thought, so we are plenty patient at this point.

After that we head home and my husband is ready to begin his evening of being a grease monkey.

I put all the kids to bed and by that time he declares that the good news is he fixed the pipe and all is well again in the kitchen. Except the stink of course.

But the bad news is he has the wrong kind of battery for the car.

So we keep the old battery in there and my husband charges it up and drives it around for a bit, running a quick errand to the grocery store to get more air freshener.

This morning I'm driving the car and I can't even remember what the numbers are to all the radio stations that I like (since the radio has been reset when taking out the battery). Talk about short circuiting.

Happy 2010.

May we always have a back up plan. And plenty of air freshener.