I wanted to start this blog as an upbeat, positive place where mothers who had a bunch of kids could read positive stories of having more than a few kids is but tonight, I’m having a rough time feeling upbeat.

Today was the first time that I got a sick call from school.

About an hour and a half into a three hour preschool day, I got a call from my daughter’s teacher telling me that my poor baby had thrown up four times and needed me to come get her.

Maternal instinct flaring, I was half way out the door before I realized that I needed to bring her brothers with me.  (Perhaps it wasn’t maternal instinct, hence the untimely departure, but rather panic…)

Begrudgingly I went back downstairs to my baby proofed cave and started the exceptionally time consuming “going out” process.

While I used to be able to lug both babies around like footballs, I now have to take individual trips up and down the stairs.

First baby up, snowsuited, buckled and content?  Three minutes?

Second baby?  Ditto.

Two year old?  Ten minute struggle with getting him to wear pants (usually I cave and let him prance around in his shorts, but negative temperatures bring out the disciplinarian in me), four minutes getting him to keep both boots on, two minutes dragging his flailing body out to the car and securely buckling him in.

Five minutes spent going back to the house twice, once to get each baby, fastening them into the car, getting myself in and finally getting going.

Ten minutes to get to preschool.

Result?

Roughly forty minutes later I pull up to school to see my crying daughter being escorted out with the director.  She gets in the car and, between sniffles, asks,  “What took you so long?  I need my mama!  I don’t feeeeeel good!”