Old woman in the shoe, I totally get you.

Whipping and no food. Acceptable in 1794, not so much in 2010.

We all grew up with it, but let me refresh your memory:

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,

She had so many children she didn't know what to do,

So she gave them some broth without any bread

And whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.

In the past few days I have completely and totally empathized with the poor lady. Now three really isn't that big of a number. But for me, in this stage in my life and at certain times, it definitely seems to be quite large. And for the most part I DO know what to do with them, and as tempting as it is sometimes, it doesn't involve starving or whipping (although early bedtimes is an option). When I think of my friends that have 5 or 6(!) kids already, I feel like I have absolutely nothing to complain about. But throw me a bone here and let me whine just a little bit.

Chop-chop Mommy, some service here.

Today was just one of THOSE DAYS (and yes, the caps are entirely necessary). The imps of mischief and misbehavior had possessed all of my children starting the library trip. We had to cut our educational visit to the sacred hall of learning short because middle child  began to emit a rather unpleasant odor and mommy forgot diapers. Youngest child had been fussing continually and not even the fantastic baby carrier was working it's magic. Oldest child was stuck on broken record mode and the questions were coming fast and furious. Eventually, we managed to cart both books and children out the door and into the car with minimal screaming. Kiki immediately began her impressive impression of a fire engine siren and continued to serenade us all the way home. Maya chimed in every few minutes with a forlorn "Mommy, owwie, poo-poo". 

Once we *finally* got home, the real chaos began. Kiki really began to wail in earnest (she was wasting away with hunger. Last meal: 1 hour ago) and then Maya joined in at the chorus (she had developed a diaper rash). To complete the symphony, Ellie began whimpering, then hollering (mysterious stomach ache). At this point, rational thought was barely possible, but I just began to work my way around the room, attending screaming child after screaming child. On a side note, did you know that an infant's cry can reach up to 110 decibels? 

                                                                                                Decibel Comparisons

                                                                                                                                    (for your edification)

After introducing PERMANENT marker to my couch :(

0: The quietest sound you can hear

30: Whispering

60: Normal conversation (comfortable hearing level)

70: Recommended level (50% volume on Apple iPod with earbuds)

85: Telephone dial tone (start to need hearing protection)

100: Subway train

110: Baby crying/ jackhammer 

120: Ambulance siren/ Planes on airport runway

140: Jet engine at takeoff

According to the experts, long term exposure to noises louder than 85 dB can cause hearing loss. I no longer wonder why my ears sometimes ring after one of Kiki's vigorous lung exercises. I forsee "huh?" and "what did you say" being a staple in my conversations in the near future. And my children have no one but themselves to blame.

Back to my "old woman, shoe" quandary. I honestly don't think three kids is a ginormous amount of children. Most days it's quite manageable. In fact one day I was at Walmart and was juggling the children (quite expertly in my opinion). I had Maya in the cart (which was piled high with groceries and assorted Walmart-ish goods), Ellie was hanging off the end of the cart and Kiki was strapped in the baby carrier. An older man walked by and stopped in his tracks, his mouth was slightly agape.

        "Wow, you have ALOT of kids", he stammered, somewhat awestruck

        "Ummm, I just have three, it's not that many." I replied somewhat puzzled.

The (obviously) childless man insisted that three was a large number and I figured that I might was well agree with him, it was pointless to argue. It's rather sad that in our society, three is considered such a large number. We are expected to pop out our 1.5 children, a boy, a girl, and be done with it. God forbid you might have another child.

Three is certainly manageable, but I do think it would only be fair if God would automatically grant every mother an extra set of arms with every child they have after two. Because I would really really appreciate an extra arm or two, and while he's at it I would really like my brain back.

Personally, I think this would be ideal. Sure I might look freaky, but I would more than enough hands for each kid.

P.S. I'm 26. And while I have already found several gray hairs, I would like to state that I am NOT old. Although if we have too many repeat performances of library night, I might have to pull out the hair dye soon