She taught me bottles, baths, diaper rash, teething, temperatures, and the difference between a baby crying because she was hungry and crying because she was simply furious about being alive.
The girls eventually started calling her Grandma Ruth.
I never corrected them.
I needed her too.
My boss, Mr. Harlan, rearranged my schedule.
Then rearranged it again.
When daycare bills became impossible, I began working early mornings and late evenings while Mrs. Coleman watched the girls during the middle of the day.
I stopped buying anything that wasn’t necessary.
The old truck survived because it had no choice.
When the triplets turned one, I sat at my kitchen table after they fell asleep and opened a cheap spiral notebook.
I wrote:
To my girls,
Today you turned one.
I burned the pancakes, Sophie cried because Brooke touched her balloon, and Lily tried to eat wrapping paper.
I have no idea if I’m doing any of this correctly.
