Survivor, Callaway style

We're back from our trip -- we survived intact and are still on speaking terms with the friends we traveled with. :-) There was one particularly hairy day where nothing seemed to go right, but other than that things went pretty well.

The worst day was Wednesday. I attempted a bike ride with the kids (with Cason in the stroller), and that was a disaster. Meghan just got her bike a few weeks ago and is still pretty timid ... she's more than capable, she just lacks confidence at times. She refused to pedal -- at all. So Maggie was zooming up away from us and I was trying to coax Meghan to ride ... nothing worked. We'd barely gotten out of eyesight of the car, when I turned everyone around and we headed back to the car.

After lunch that same day, we headed back to the Callaway butterfly garden for "Insect Encounter," which gave the kids a neat chance to see bugs up close and personal, and even touch them. Maggie touched a fire-bellied toad but wanted nothing to do with the other bugs; Meghan hid behind Maggie the whole time. Into the butterfly exhibit, where both girls were taken aback at the prospect of hundreds of beautiful flying creatures coming straight at their faces. Out of the butterfly conservatory and into one of the outdoor garden swings, where things were peaceful for about three minutes. Until Meghan spotted the bumblebees. If one dared come within 10 feet of her, she was in my lap crying, quicker than you can say "I need a margarita." Soon, whenever Meghan freaked, Maggie freaked. Poor Cason kept falling asleep whenever we were in the car, so I decided he probably needed a good nap in a real crib, so we headed back to the cottage.

On the way back, the girls fought like teenaged sisters. Maggie, being an only child, is used to a lot of time to do what she wants without a lot of company. After two days of 24-7 "friendship," she was over it. She sat in her seat, arms crossed, staring straight ahead, while Meghan talked constantly, wondering why Maggie wouldn't respond. Their conversation went something like this:

Meghan: "Maggie, what are you doing? Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie, look at this picture I drew. Maggie, look at me. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie, talk to me. Ms. LeeAnne, Maggie isn't talking to me."
Me: "Maggie's probably feeling a little tired. It's OK if she doesn't feel like talking. Why don't you talk and let her just listen."
Meg: "Maggie, I'm talking to YOU. Maggie. Maggie. Look at me."
Finally, Maggie responds: "I DON'T want to talk. I DON'T want to look at your picture. I DON'T want to listen. I just want to be quiet!"
Meg: "You're not my friend anymore!"
Mag: "You're not MY friend either! And you can't come to my house to play anymore!"
Meg: "Well you can't come to MY house anymore either."
Mag (softly): "I can't come play with you?"
Meg: "NO! You're not my friend!"
Mag: "You're not my friend either! Don't talk to me!!"

You get the picture. I yelled for the girls to be quiet, and I told them that when we got back to the cottage, Meghan was going in her room for quiet time, and Maggie was going in our room for quiet time -- they definitely needed some time apart. This sent Maggie into a tailspin, because she thought I was making her take a nap. (She hasn't napped in nearly a year.) I put Meghan in her bed, fed Cason, pushed his travel crib into my room, put him down for a nap, then Maggie and I had some one-on-one time together. The one flaw in my plan: I forgot to put a pullup on Meghan, so when she woke up, she had peed everywhere. Thank goodness for hotel housekeeping.

The next couple of days were fine ... my expectations were so low by that point that things couldn't have been too much worse. (Though I've learned in life to never assume things can't get worse.) On Thursday, I think I had an unintentional strategy to wear their little bodies out; we did so much walking and exploring that they were dragging by the time they got back to the car. Meghan and Cason fell asleep almost instantly, and Maggie was too tired to argue with anyone about anything.

Here are some of the more significant lessons I learned while caring for three kids at once:

• No matter how fair you try to be amidst two 3-year-olds, they'll never see it that way. Thus, you have two choices: 1) do what eases your own conscience and just let them deal with the results, or 2) don't bother trying since it won't matter anyway, and just let them deal with the results. (At various points during the week, I tried both. Neither was particularly successful.)


• In a pinch, delicious coffee can be brewed through a paper towel.


• Mango mojitos are good for soothing the stress of two uncooperative preschoolers and a teething 1-year-old. Really good.


• Three-year-olds are capable of arguing as intensely and seriously as 12-year-olds.


• Sometimes, it's the little things you say -- and hear -- that really matter.