Page 2 of Unexpectingly Happily Ever After

“Yes, Momma is always tired, but it’s okay because that’s howMommas are.”

Lucy stops short at the swinging bar that blocks the entrance into the store, which also halts the woman with the bags.

“Move out of the way, Luce,” I reach around and grab her shoulder so the woman can slide by her. I receive a scowl from both. “Now, push open the bar.”

It’s easy enough to push to get in, but it seems to be a mystery to a four-foot-tall kid.

“I want to push it!” Sophie demands, elbowing her sister aside.

“Wait your turn, Sophie,” I tell her, attempting to use my best patient-mother voice, which is only

used in public. “Lucy first. Now you. And Benny. Hurry, someone else wants to come in.”

One by one, my three children obediently push their way through the bar allowing them entrance to one of my favourite places. I smile apologetically at the older woman tapping her foot behind us as I follow them in.

Her tight-lipped smile tells me I’m not forgiven.

As the kids explode through the bar, the cashiers stare at us with a collection of expressions.

TheAw, aren’t they cute?smileto theLady, control your kidsgrimace.

I’ve seen them all before.

If my kids aren’t already noticeable enough in their bright yellow soccer jerseys, which clash horribly with their curly, red hair, the commotion we cause is just another way of telling the world the Bergen triplets

have arrived.

I swear my heart stops beating every time I let the kids loose in a store. What will they break? What kind of chaos will they create? Will I lose them?

When they were younger, it had been the fear of the dreaded temper tantrum. Especially from Sophie. She’s the most energetic and the most affectionate of the three, constantly showering me and her brother and sister with kisses, but she has a temper. Lucy and Ben are more level and calm, but Sophie is like a bouncy ball–up and down, up and down.

Doesn’t make me love her any less.

I used to try and keep them with me, going so far to strap them into the stroller long after they had grown out of it. J.B. had found me the best stroller when I was pregnant, one that actually had four seats, so that I

had extra room to put the diaper bag or anything else.

Of course, Sophie couldn’t be trusted to sit alone. I only made that mistake once, after she left a trail of Cheerios, Goldfish crackers, and the contents of my purse behind me through the mall.

“Okay, just over here, guys.No running! Sophie!”

“Momma, Itoldyou that I’m not aguy,″ Lucy informed me. “I’m agirl.”

“I’m well aware that you are in fact, a girl.” I trot over to the sparkling wine section, with the three of them following close behind. A man stands idly before the shelves. “But I useguysas a gender-neutral term

of endearment, so I mean all three of you when I say it.”

“I’m a girl too!” Sophie cries, skidding to a halt beside the man. “But Ben’s not. He has apenis!″

The man reels back at the word, with an incredulous expression at me.

No sweet nicknames for body parts in our house. And unfortunately, Sophie has an odd love of the word

penis.

“Yes, he does,” I agree grimly, with an apologetic glance at the man. “Help me look. I need a bottle of prosecco. It’s black with a yellow label.”

“What’s prosciutto?” Ben asks. I continually wonder how my sweet son survived his time in my womb with his more rambunctious sisters. But Lucy and Sophie adore their brother, treating him with more respect and care than they do each other.

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