Fall (and I don't mean autumn)

In honor of the very first whispers of the new season (in as much as you can call fall a season in south Texas), I, well, fell. Hard. At work. All over the sidewalk. Twice.

Yes, as I am oh so put together, the hem on my pants came undone, and as I was doing my usual speed-walking down one of the sidewalks at work, my heel caught in the hem and knee met pavement, tearing a hole in my pants and scraping up my knee. Of course, because it couldn't be any other way, there were two people coming in the other direction as witnesses. They very helpfully offered to fill out an incident report for the hospital where I work. I declined, too embarrassed to deal with it. I then went on my not-so-merry way, quickly because I was still mortified, and--yup--it happened again, only this time it was my elbow, and two completely different people coming the other way. Apparently, people travel in pairs at this particular hospital.  I had just been thinking that in the three years I've worked there, despite the uneven sidewalks strewn with debris from the trees, and despite my penchant for too-high heels, and despite the fact that I am generally a total clutz, I had managed not to bite it at work.  I guess it could've been worse. Right?

So here is to hoping that doesn't happen again for at least three years, and that somehow I can manage to avoid those four people that saw me indefinitely. Cheers to fall (and this time, I do mean autumn)!

Talk, talk, talk about it.

I'm still trying to figure out how to use this blog, and I had wanted to post pictures, but I think that's going to have to wait until I have a little bit of time to make myself more blog-savvy. Bummer. Meanwhile, news of the day: the baby said "Mommy!" She hadn't really said anything intelligible before today, but she was trying to climb into my lap and said it several times, clear as a bell. My babies have all been a little slow to talk--my 5 year-old probably didn't say five words until he turned 3--but boy, do they make up for lost time in a hurry! At any given moment in our house, I am trying to follow at least two conversations, full speed ahead. It's like the boys don't even notice the other is talking, and I'll be hearing one go on and on about airplanes, reverse thrusters, and ground speed, while the other is trying to get me to say "butt," or "poop," or any of the other myriad potty words that make little boys collapse in fits of giggles. Occasionally all the racket threatens to mangle the last little nerve I've got left after a long day at work, but oh my word, they are adorable, and I'm quite certain the day that they won't willingly have any conversations with me at all is lurking right around the corner. So I now know tons more about planes than I ever cared to, and the potty words, they are a-flowin' around here.

Lemming (aka, Oh, look, another blog about kids!)

So, how exactly does this work?  I don't know, so, like so many things in my life, I'm just going to jump in and see how it goes.

I'm a wife and mother of three, with a side job as a psychiatrist.  My husband quit his job as an attorney to stay home with the kids, and thank goodness he did, because I don't know how we would do it otherwise.  I know lots of busy, two-income households (and some single-parent ones) that make it work, but I guess we were just not that resourceful! Our two boys, who are 5 and 7, are in school, and we have a baby girl, who, against my wishes, is about to turn 1.  I was really hoping she could stay tiny for at least a few more months, but, like the boys, she just doesn't listen regarding that.  Time never passes so quickly as it does after you have kids, does it?  Although maybe that has more to do with just getting older.

Raising 3 kids, even with tons of support, is a challenge, but I would not trade it for anything.  It's the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing I've ever done.  There's a quote that having kids is allowing your heart to live outside of your body, and I couldn't agree with this more.  Every day is a vulnerable, gut-wrenching, delicious flood of emotions.  Times 3.  What could be better than that?