Three is Definitely Harder

Now that I have more children than hands (my husband says I am now a M-O-M), I have had many women ask me, "So, is three harder?"

My initial response was to say, "Nah, not really." I got lucky with Miranda (#3). She's easy-going, very happy, and sleeps great. Zoë is a wonderful helper and very obedient. Megan is fun, happy, and plays well with others and by herself.

I still agree with my summary assessment, but when we had the flu hit our house a few weeks ago, I realized that three is definitely harder.

Between the washing, the medicines, the 1/2 to 1 hour stretches of sleep I got during the night and the lack of opportunity to even do housework during the day with all 3 kids and both adults sick at some point (many overlapping) during the week, I with my acute sense of smell (thanks a lot dad, for that inherited curse!) went down to the basement to start laundry that was horribly behind and sniffed (despite a stuffy nose) a gas smell.

Well, since we had a major leaky gas range that was replaced by our landlord in December, I have been more wary of the gas smell, and it is hard to ignore now that I know it isn't just "old house" smell (we are renting a house built in the 1920's with lots of character). So, with a call to the gas company, they shut off our heat with the temperature reaching a sweltering 25 degrees F that day. I ended up camped out out the couch, wearing 3 blankets, a down jacket, a hat, and pining for my "cozy-toes" heating pad, trying to keep an eye on all 3 girls. And no, I wasn't at home. Travis was the one who stayed at the house waiting for the plumber to fix the leak and the gas man to turn on the gas.

I have amazing daughters; they were so wonderful in spite of their own difficulties with ear infections (all 3 were on antibiotics), flu aftermath, an unknown apartment with no friends or toys, and a mom shivering under blankets. But, it was definitely harder to care for all three of them.

The more I experience in my own life, the more appreciation (and sometimes sympathy) I have for other moms. Whether they have one child, or two, or more than hands, I know that each one is special, precious, and very difficult at times. There are always moments of doubt, self judgement to wonder if I'm really doing the right thing, moments of regret when I lose self-control, and tears of frustration and joy and love. As I see other moms with children who are having a melt-down or a temper-tantrum, I get a crooked smile, and say a prayer,

"Please, God, bless that mom! And thank you that it isn't me, today."