two truths.

Truth one:

This is hard.

So much harder than I thought it'd be.

And I thought it would be pretty hard.

Its the kind of hard where sometimes all you can do is sit at the kitchen table and cry, because you have no idea how to keep up, how to keep 3 little people fed and clean and happy. Its the kind of hard where you spend just about every waking hour wondering how you will survive when your mom leaves, and that is a lot of hours since you're getting two hours of sleep at a time. Its the kind of hard where it takes all your will power not to question God's wisdom in all of this, and then sometimes you do it anyway, because it isn't clear how this is all going to work.

It is also the kind of hard where sometimes all you can do is stand back and laugh, because somehow your life has become a crazy circus sideshow. My mom and I braved a trip to the mall the other day. We thought it would be fun to find some Easter outfits. In Old Navy, Carly had potty false alarms over and over, and I took her to the bathroom 4 times without her going. She was a little nervous about the weird bathroom. I didn't blame her. Near the end, both babies woke up screaming, ready to eat. Our crazy caravan headed to buy our stuff, and while in line, Carly starts grunting. She and I rush to the bathroom, but don't make it. I'll let you imagine how lovely that was. She gets upset when she has an accident, so she is crying. So we head out to some chairs with 3 screaming kids, two who want bottles and one who wants a juice box. I'm pretty sure the Hispanic ladies across from us said "loco" at least 3 times while watching us. Carly gets her juice box and me and my mom each start feeding a baby . . . and Carly starts grunting again. Serenity now. So I give Quinn to my mom, and Super Mimi manages to keep feeding them both. It actually made for a very sweet picture. Then Carly and I rush to the bathroom. And we don't make it again. Nasty. It was pure chaos. So much crying and feeding and . . . poop. I learned a very important lesson: don't ever go anywhere alone with all three kids. All we could do was laugh. Because the other option was to cry, and I at least held that in until we got home.

Truth two:

This is sweet.

So much sweeter than I though it'd be.

And I thought it would be pretty sweet.

Its the kind of sweet that involves snuggling with your newborn daughter in bed, because suddenly she is incapable of sleeping in the crib. Its the kind of sweet that involves going to the park with your firstborn and realizing she is the same, and you are the same, and not everything has been drastically and crazily changed. Its the kind of sweet that involves watching your boy down 4 ounces from a bottle, with memories of crying and begging him to take 30 mL fresh in your mind and heart. And its the kind of sweet that involves three kids  dressed up in St Patrick's Day green, lined up on a blanket for a photo op. They are beautiful, and every time you look at them you can't believe they are yours. All of them.

Things are hard.

And things are sweet.

I spend 50 percent of my time wondering how I will survive these kids, 

and the other 50 percent wondering how I'd survive without them.