______DeStefanos______: Press the Reset Button

I suppose we're coming to terms with life

...again.

We were initially flabbergasted, totally unsure what was coming our way and whether or not we could handle it. That sense never really diminished from that first ultra-sound through the first few weeks of their lives; though, of course, we also became more and more enthusiastic (--and not merely because we had to--no, Suz and I, even before we met each other, thrilled at the idea of parenthood; and the moment you meet your own child, I am sure you all know, is the same moment you can't have the world without her). But eventually, wondrously, the tempo normalized and, all in all, the truth of raising triplets seemed so much less fearful than its prospect. (Funny to think, amid the sleep training, and breast feeding, and the squeezed hours--the squeezed space, sick nights, shots, and sloshing through Suzy's blood on delivery day--funny to think that none of that registers much anymore. I guess you can't be daunted looking back.)

And we grew proud. The method, together with nature and chance, bore its fruit, and triplets, even triplets, seemed not just manageable, but relatively easy. We were grateful for all your help, but also proud of ourselves and of our happy infants. And we resisted all the more actively the impulse of down-trodden spirits who sought, and who seek, to connect only through commiseration, and, privately, we gloried in how well the honest truth bore that resistance.

Ha. Vanity.

Well, now, more than 22 months into this experience, Suzy and I are looking for the reset button. To our expectations. Boundaries are being tested, and Mommy-clinginess is threatening to swallow Suzy whole. Yep. We're growing up. Readjusting. Remembering how foolish it is to assume, one, that expectations hold, and two, that what we expect is goodness defined.

Reset: when we didn't know what to expect, we were prepared for anything, and goodness revealed more of itself at every turn. We were infants ourselves, and life was amazing only. Reset. Renew. Chances cycle. Confidence must yield to however much integrity we have. What did we--what do we ever have any right to expect? Reset. Be ready. Remember. Yea, remember--I mean, we're still 11 years from the challenges of triplet teenagers...

So, it's timeouts, and counting to three, and open defiance, egged on by siblings, and tantrums. New power craves direction. No, Kiefer, you can only throw balls from now on, not books, nor blocks, nor forks and food and sippies. No biting. No hitting. Yes, I know Charlie laughs to see you do it, but it will eventually hurt, if it doesn't already. Charlie, get off your brother, and get off the kitchen table, and take that straw out of your nose, and that raisin, and that piece of grilled cheese. Scout, put your leg down, please (--the other day, after a nap, I went in to find Scout silently straddling the rim of her crib...)

The little people are growing up, plain and simple, and, to be sure, they are as miraculous and lovable in each of their new abilities as they were at birth. They are born every day into greater recognition of their own will, and Suzy and I smile almost constantly to see it, though we do not much relish the sense of becoming wardens. "No." That's easily the most common pronouncement these days. Are they imitating us? "No," sometimes, "No!" with a finger jabbing in a sibling's or cousin's direction. Who teaches them that? Whole conversations, in fact, of "no."

No, no, no, no, no.

And then, there is the whining. Whining triplets, contrary to what I have said before, are definitely whining singletons times three, and then some. Once one stops, another picks up. And almost always for poor Suzy. Kiefer and Charlie were tag-teaming her, in fact, at the zoo just three days ago. It was exhausting just to watch, especially with the menace of a whole year or two or eight of it propping its pitch...

Yes, it's hard raising triplets, but for every tribulation, there is cause for exultation too--for unexpected delight. I have laughed before at the kids, trying to catch up to their cuteness. But until recently I haven't laughed just because they were funny--as though I were in a comedy club crying for mercy. And not just at the kids. The other night, I fell out of my seat at a dinner party, and Suzy and I were in tears about it--unable to even maintain a conversation with our companions. "Excess of joy weeps," writes William Blake.

Yea, attitude isn't enough, not in the moment, nor even in the ultimate truth of it, of course. We cannot maintain the writer's assurance, his patience, the alien aspect of his reflectiveness when a babe is howling all the way home from Grandma's, or when you prove yourself to be less than the parent you wish you were. We cannot maintain such equanimity, nor should we.

But tribulation is a bit of growth too, of course, and summer's verdure is purchased of winter's rain, and last night, breaking the silence on the monitor at about 8:15, presumably when he realized he was surely falling asleep, Kiefer's voice, or was it Charlie's?, came forth: "Ba-bye ball. Ba-bye book. Ba-bye." Yea, see you tomorrow, buddy... They're all learning at a terrific pace...

Life moves. Chances cycle. And we're looking for the reset button.

And Charlie and Kiefer have also learned to say "Thank you," and it's hard to imagine it could be said more purely. "Thank you, Mommy." "Thank you, Daddy." "Thank you, Ball." I told Charlie when I first heard him say it, "That's good, boy. Those words are basically the religion of this household." Thank you earth, and green grass, and rolly-pollies under rocks. Thank you trees, in any season, and squirrels, and birds, and p-p-p-planes. Thank you sky, and moon, and sun, and all things seen and unseen in the universe. Thank you music of thought fused with care. Thank you challenge. And thank you hardship. Thank you life, and grace of love. Oh, what beauty could compliance to our little hopes and plans ever afford? You teach me that, sweet boys. You, yourself, dear Scout, remind me of what we all once never doubted.

Reset. Remember. Renew.