9,000 bottles AND solid food? Are you kidding me?

Our pediatrician's office was always completely full when we strolled in for visits. But bless that staff, I would barely get the triplet stroller through the door before they called my name and whisked us off to our own room to wait our turn. I choose to believe they were protecting my born-too-early-trio from excessive germs but let's be honest, they could have just as easily been moving us because we took up a lot of space when we rolled in!

Whatever the reason for it, by the triplets' first birthday, I knew what to expect at the well-baby visits. I pushed my big giant stroller through the door to her office confidently and waited for them to whisk us back.

When Dr. Mendelsohn came in, I knew we would have some hard conversations about milestones, and adjusting their age to their actual due date -- not their birthdate. I was ready with my questions. Prepared to ask this woman who had been so direct and honest with me since the trio's birth, for assurances that my three were going to be ok.

What I wasn't prepared for was her first question:

"So, how is the solid food going?"

Me: "Excuse me?"

Dr. M: "How are they doing with solid food?"

Me: "Um. Hmm. Um."

Awkward silence.

Me: "I know exactly how much formula to make each night to get us through the next day. The bottles fill the refrigerator but that's ok. We have a system. I know who likes which baby food -- they do not all like the same things. I know exactly how much rice cereal to prepare."

I was fairly begging for a badge of honor. Surely she was going to pat me on the back any minute now. I had survived the first year of three babies after all. Triplets. Twelve months. Close to 9,000 bottles. More like 12,000 diapers. At least 700 loads of laundry.

I knew how they liked to be burped. I knew Mason had to eat first. I knew I had to wake Claire to eat, she loved her sleep. I knew Benjamin needed music playing to eat.

And your first question to me is what again?

Dr. M: "Yes, but how are they progressing with solid food."

Me in my smallest voice looking at my lap: "I don't know. We haven't tried it."

To her credit she just smiled at me then proceeded with her full exam of each of my amazing trio.

As she finished she turned to me again and said: "Go home. Feed them. Try grilled cheese for starters." And then she patted me on the back.

I am pretty sure today -- 19 years after that doctor's appointment -- my three will still rush to the table for grilled cheese sandwiches. They have always loved them.

But that first night -- they inhaled them! Mason Shrader -- the one that had to be fed FIRST -- ate three all by himself.

What happens when Daddy has the task of cleaning them up after supper....
I am pretty sure that is spaghetti sauce holding their hair in place!

*I'm preparing my heart to celebrate the fast-approaching 20th birthday of my trio this month. I'll be here sharing some of our story for the next few days. I'd love for you to join me!