This makes 710 (give or take) Mom Things...

In the past week you dealt with hives, vomit, and stitches.  And now that you think back on it, it really wasn't all that different from any other week as the mother of three.  C'est la vie, right?

When your newly stitched toddler runs at full speed head first into the dishwasher with a loud "Bang!", you cringe for a moment only to realize she hit it with the other side of her forehead.  And instead of comforting her, you let out a sigh of relief.  PHEW.

You laugh raucously in Chili's when you realize that your 25lb toddler is eating your 35lb 4-year old's leftovers at dinner.  She's apparently trying very hard to overtake her "big" sister in weight.  And is, seemingly, succeeding.

You often wonder what your neighbors must think of you and your little family - like, for instance, on days at 3pm when your toddler is wearing footies and your four year old is wearing a Sunday dress and Sunday shoes, and they are sitting in rocking chairs pointed towards a neighbor's house...just staring, and talking into two ends of the same phone.  Do they realize this is normal?  Or is this just normal for us?

When you get your toddler out of bed after nap time you find her hair matted to her head in a crunchy-rat nest type of way.  After further investigation you discover a giant wet spot on her pillow.  Your conclusion (among other guesses involving pee and puke, which were ruled out based on the lack of an odor) is that she just drooled that much and wallowed around in it.  The best part?  She totally pulled the crunchy hair off in a way that only that giggly little mischievous imp could.

If you could bottle drool and pass it off as something profitable, you'd have been rich by your first child's first birthday.  Though, it appears, this third child is trying to take the prize for droolingest child ever.

You count your blessings as they are that it took you three kids and seven years as a parent to experience your first profusely bleeding wound that required stitches.

You sadly realize that all the progress you'd made towards not being a helicopter parent was erased the moment your toddler toppled headfirst down those stairs to meet her bloody fate.  You're back to being as crazy and hovering as ever.  Darn you, head wound.  Darn you.

Your first grader has figured out that the best way for him to stay out of trouble at school is to read a book when he's finished his work.  Yes.  Go with that.  It sounds like a great plan.  I'll provide the books.

Based on your toddler's ability to drink an entire sippy cup of milk in 0.2 seconds flat, you have high hopes for her winning the gallon-of-milk-chugging contests in the high school parking lot when she's of age.  [Of course, these innocent hi-jinks probably won't even take place when she's in high school because everyone will probably receive fluids intravenously as they'll surely be too busy texting to stop and lift a drink to their mouths.]

Your four year old was so elated to get Lucky Charms at the store she couldn't wait to get home to eat them.  Thirty seconds into the treat, she declared, "I'm done!"  Of course she was...