Diznee:There's Profit to be Had!

Dear Sophie and Gideon,

Like nearly every other child in the universe, you've become obsessed with Frozen. I can usually handle this. We've got the movie and the dolls. Sophie is dressing up as Elsa for Halloween and Gideon is going to be Olaf.

Yes, Gideon-bear, I know. You want to be Elsa, too. But four Elsa's are just a few too many. Someone has to be Olaf just like someone has to be Anna. (That's Milly.) Suck it up, dude. Sophie called dibs on the Queen first. At least you're not Sven like Rory!

Every day we listen to the soundtrack and you recite the dialogue. You both love knocking on closed doors and asking "Do you want to build a snowman?"

Please stop doing that when Mommy is going potty.

The latest thing is getting dangerous. I have no problem with you acting out some of the scenes. But lately I've seen Gideon leaping off of higher and higher structures - chairs, couches, THE STAIRCASE - while Sophie yells "Anna, wait!"

Guys...Mommy can't take you to the magic love trolls. Mommy can only take you to the ER and they are WAY less understanding. They don't "remove the magic but leave the fun". They just remove you from Mommy's care.

So let's just keep it to some nice safe viewings of the movie for the 475,836th time in forever and watch Daddy's eye twitch get stronger.

Love,

Mama

Fickle

Rory has started an annoying habit. Whenever I pick her up from MDO, she begins looking and asking for Daddy.

"Dada? *glance* Daaa-DAH!"

"Nope, just Mama. Remember me?"

*shoves my face out of the way*

"Dada! Dada! DadadadadadadaDAH!"

"That whole 'giving birth' thing meant nothing to you, didn't it?"

She continues this sing-song Dada thing for the 2 hours it takes to go and pick up her siblings and bring them home. Finally we get inside and I set her down in front of her favored person and tell him that she's been asking for him. He picks her up gleefully.

"Hi sweetheart!"

*blank look*

"Eh..."

*lean out of his arms*

*claw her way to the floor*

*race to me*

*climb onto my lap*

"EEGAHBAHMAHBOO!"

*rolls on me like a puppy*

We can't win.

Bring the Music Back

Music is a funny thing. I react viscerally to a lot of music. There have been times where I need to be careful when playing music while driving. Otherwise I'll find myself in front of a judge asking me why I hopped out of the car and slugged the policeman, who pulled me over doing 85 in a school zone, while yelling F*** YOU I WONT DO WHAT YOU TELL ME.

And I'll have to be honest with him.

"I'm sorry, Your Honor, I was driving under the influence of Rage Against the Machine."

I'm a 90's kid and I am completely unapologetic about my love for bands like Green Day, Nirvana, REM, Ace of Base, and No Doubt. I love Sarah McLachlan, Natalie Merchant, and Tori Amos and I'm still angry that Lilith Fair is over.

One band that I've always loved is Smashing Pumpkins. However, my first husband was also a huge fan. We even had a Pumpkins song in our wedding. For the last 8 years, I haven't been able to listen to any Pumpkins music. My stomach got tight and I felt very anxious. I had to turn it off.

Last week, for the first time, I was able to listen to a few songs and enjoy them again. 1979...Today...Tonight, Tonight...only some of the big ones. I can listen to Disarm again and it makes me smile.

I have my music back. That makes me smile a lot more. And drive a little faster, seriously Kelly, you've got to stop doing that.

Happy Birthday, Gideon

Dear Gideon,

We've been talking about Thursday for the past few days. Do you remember? What is Thursday? What is June 26th?

Usually I just get a lot of echos and some bouncing. I don't mind. I love your cheerful enthusiasm.

You go between "maniacal ball of fiery energy" to "completely engrossed in a piece of technology" in about 4 nanoseconds. You are ridiculously good at figuring out anything you want or need on an Apple product. A few months ago, you somehow switched the wifi on to the old iPhone that holds your games and you downloaded your Pooh Bear and Donald videos from your dad's cloud. Dude, I had to ask Daddy to explain it three times before I could do that on my iPad.

Donald is your favorite. You watch old Donald and Chip & Dale videos all of the time and laugh until you can't hold still. You've started listening to non-kid music and you like interesting music videos. Pentatonix, Pharrell, and OK Go are at the top of your list. We love watching how you are overcome with joy and must DANCE. And boy, do you dance! Your little flailing arms and legs send your Grandma and your Aunt Sarah into the roof with delight.

You just finished your second year of half-day PPCD. In August, you'll go to school for a full day. You'll start mainstreaming slowly. You'll eat school lunches and go to PE. I am so proud of you, little man. You're going to be amazing. It's going to be new and very different. There are going to be parts that you don't like. I'm asking you to be brave, Gideon. Be brave and step out a little more. I'll be waiting when you come home. You can always rest with me and your daddy. I promise.

I've felt sometimes that I miss a lot of you. You still carefully guard yourself in your own little world. There are days where you barely speak aloud. You are very uncomfortable with eye contact. But you are my Gideon. I know that you like yellow cheese sticks, throwing a ball, peanut M&M's more than regular, having your feet rubbed, and giraffes. You gently interact with your baby sister, trade iPhone games with your middle sister and gleefully wrestle with your older sister. I'm so grateful that you are our Gideon. This family is so much richer with you in the middle.

Happy 5th birthday. Mama adores her sweet Prince.

Love,

Mama

Moving On

I have three blog drafts from January on here. Maybe I'll eventually come back to them. Life just gets in the way.

Today, I'm watching Milly and Gideon eat yellow cheese sticks and act silly in front of Mickey in Wonderland. We're waiting for Milly's bus to come and take her to school. It's the last week of school. She's done such a great job in just a short amount of time.

Gideon has his 3-hour ABA assessment this afternoon so I have to keep him busy until we leave at 1:30.

Selfies are a good distraction.

The miserable teething baby is starting to act a little sleepy. FINALLY. Maybe she'll nap. (Please, sweet baby Jesus...)

I'm ready for a summer with the possibility of a few days to myself. Days where I can sit quietly and actually hear myself think. Days where I can work in the kitchen without the threat of tripping over two or three small bodies. Days where I can leisurely scrub a toilet without worrying that someone is eating the walls or a book.

Days where I might be able to write.

Dear Sophie

Today you are 6 years old. It's the first birthday where you actually understand what is going on. (Mostly.)

You asked for purple cupcakes and pink balloons and pink party hats. I found pink cupcakes to bring to school but I'm making purple cupcakes for tomorrow. I even have a pink birthday 6 candle just like you asked. There are balloons, a giant sock monkey, your first real doll and a giant "Happy Birthday" banner.

6 years ago, you were in the Baylor NICU and I was in my hospital room. I had a booklet with three pictures of you. It was still hard to walk so I had only seen you once. We couldn't really hold you because of all of the wires. Your daddy and I lifted you up while the nurses changed your sheet. You weighed 5 pounds 2 ounces. I'm sure it didn't take both of us to lift you up but I'm grateful to that nurse for giving us the chance to be parents to our little girl.

I will always remember that night. I couldn't sleep. At 3 AM, I walked down to the NICU to see you again while your daddy slept. The nurses set me up in a glider rocker and helped me arrange you on my chest for kangaroo care. Your tiny head barely rested on my left breast and your feet tucked right into my cleavage.

(16-year old you is asking me why I'm talking about boobs. Settle down, cranky.)

Your entire body relaxed. You sighed and fell asleep. I held your hand and looked and your tiny fingers while tears ran down my face. You weren't supposed to be here this soon. You were still supposed to be safely growing in my belly. Monitors beeped around us. There was an IV taped to your scalp. You were so tired after such a long ordeal. I was so sore. I hadn't slept. My hormones were running wild.

So we rocked. We both relaxed. We both slept. Mother and daughter healed each other.

Thank you, my girl. Thank you for being my Sophia.

Evaluations

Milly went for her evaluation by the school district this week. We sat in a room full of toys with a psychiatrist, a speech therapist, an occupational therapist and another professional that I can't remember. They led Milly through different play to make some observations while the lady I can't remember asked me a bazillion questions about Milly's habits at home. This isn't new to me. I've done this twice before with Sophie and Gideon and knew what to expect.

One thing that I hear often that is both flattering and a little off-putting is when therapists and teachers ask me if I'm a teacher or a therapist. They praise my methods with my kids. They act amazed at how I try to coax eye contact and words out of my kids. I know the lingo and I answer questions before they're asked. I've been told that I'm one of the most involved and educated mothers that they've seen.

This is great, I'll admit! Who doesn't like being told that they're doing a great job? But I feel so inadequate. I could do so much more. My playroom isn't fully equipped with centers and reading nooks. I don't have PECS charts around the house. We don't have any social stories on the iPad. Actually, we still need to fix the iPad. So many parents go way beyond what I am doing and it shows in their potty trained and speaking children.

Then comes the feelings of "Yikes, what do you guys see on a regular basis?" If I'm impressive then there have got to be some children to worry and pray about. There are parents to educate and encourage. Being the parent of a special needs child is incredibly difficult. The bare minimum doesn't cut it and your child will regress. But I understand how overwhelming it can be to change your life like that.

Milly's evaluation went well. It looks like she'll be approved for PPCD classes. They are leaning towards a diagnosis of autism. I don't really agree with this but I'll go with it for now. I'll go into that on another post. For now, I'm glad that my daughter will have a structured half day day of school. I'm eager to see what progress can be made when more people step in and help me with my girl.

Healing the Hurt

One of the first things everyone comments on when they see my girls are their beautiful blue-grey eyes. They are just like mine. Gideon has amazing brown eyes just like his daddy but he has my nose and ears. It's so interesting to see these little people with my features running around. Especially when they smack into a door.

Because they also inherited my grace.

We have a lot of cuts, bruises, owies and scrapes here at the Dyer house. The kids are long-legged, fearless and not that aware of the world around them leading to a lot of falling and smashing into things. Not a day goes by where I'm not sitting in front of a crying child or holding a crying child saying the same thing;

"I know it hurts. Let me see it and I'll help!"

Sometimes it's easy to coax them to look at me so that I can get a better look at a goose egg. There are a lot of times where they gingerly but fiercely guard a new hurt because they're afraid.

Don't touch it! It will hurt!

Don't look at it! I wasn't supposed to be up there!

No! I'll fix it!

Sophie is the worst. It takes a long time to convince her that I'm not going to walk away from her while her forehead bleeds through her fingers. I need to look at it and I'll probably need to clean it. It might hurt but it will be better soon. I'll be there the whole time and I'll be as gentle as I can.

Yesterday, during the sermon, I realized again that God was speaking to me through my children. Our new teaching pastor was talking about becoming a new person when we accept the gift that God has given us. That we are to put aside bitterness and put on forgiveness.

Bitterness or hurt can start small and can fester. It can become infected and eventually we almost get used to that nagging pain. When we invite the Holy Spirit in, He begins to gently pull our hands away from that hurt. He needs to see it before He can heal it. Sometimes we hold on tighter and guard our hurt. We get embarrassed because we got hurt doing something we knew was wrong.

God doesn't care about any of that. He only sees that His child is bleeding. He's not going to walk away from a hurt child any more than we would walk away from one of ours. He's going to continue gently asking us to put our hands down and let Him work. It may hurt. It may even leave a scar.

But, He will be as careful and gentle as He can be. He will be there the whole time. He will love us even if we are scarred.

Pick Me Up

Rory has started crawling and pulling up. As I watch her explore her world, I think.

I love watching those chubby little legs.

DON'T CHEW ON THE CORD!

This is the last time I'll watch a baby learn to do this.

You're going to regret putting that hair ball in your mouth.

I really should vacuum more often.

God looks at me like this.

The last thought is what set me down to write in between lunging at my newly mobile daughter. There are so many times when I watch my children try out a new skill like walking or climbing. Sometimes they'll push it a little too far. Sometimes they'll do something I've specifically told them not to do.

Don't jump down the stairs!

Don't balance on the back of the couch!

Don't throw your brother/sister into the wall/floor!

Don't chew that!

Because they are young or simply don't understand, there are not a lot of instances where I can sit them down and explain the reasons why I have these rules. Our main reason that we repeat is "Rules keep us safe." Just respect that I am your mother, I know more than you and I have a reason to tell you not to run in a crowded parking lot.

Still, my children are realizing that they have free will. They can run faster than me at times. They might get that yummy looking cockroach into their mouth before I can launch myself at them. And, darn it!, they're just going to try! I must be overreacting. It can't possibly be that horrible to drink a muddy puddle on the ground!

There are times when I will quietly stand to the side and allow them to make what I know to be a not-so-smart decision. I'm not talking about touching the stove or riding their bike in traffic, but I'll let them try to carry 19 toys upstairs because they don't want to make 3 trips. When Sophie drops all of her babies and cries then I'm there to hold her while she cries. I'm there to gently ask if that was the best decision. I'm there to offer another solution.

God does the same with me. When I don't follow His plan, I find myself dropping everything sometimes. There are times I might make it up the stairs and I get triumphant. But I can't do it every time. God's plan will work every time. Sometimes I'll drop everything and in the midst of my tears I'll lash out at God. Why did He let this happen?!? He could have helped! He could have snapped his fingers and I wouldn't have to carry anything! No matter what I say, He always holds me while I cry. Sometimes I push him away and cry on my own. He waits and watches. He wants to comfort me and show me a better way. I'm that loved. I'm that wanted. We all are.

Whenever things go wrong, I'm trying to look through my tears at who is really making the decisions. Did I stray? Was I tripped? Where is God? He's always near and I can ask Him for help. Instead of curling up or lashing out, I will try to choose to take a deep breath and lean on my Father. He knows better.

Movember Mulling

Each November there is a movement where men grow mustaches to raise awareness of men's cancers. (Prostate, testicular, etc.) There are fundraisers and contests to see how can grow the most impressive soup strainer in a month.

I have to wonder if it would be more effective to have women refuse to shave our pits and legs until our men get tested or sit down with their doctor and talk about their history. There would be lines wrapped around urologists' offices full of men ready for juggling.

Fear

For years, I have struggled with fear. It's been given names like nightmares, anxiety and timidity. Sometimes it's easily managed. Sometimes I can take the highest dosage of medication and still have to breathe through panic attacks.

I'm 34. Logically, I know that there are no monsters under my bed. I know that the odds of a killer hiding in the dark room are slim to none. I know that this house is sound and that the second floor won't collapse while my children sleep.

I still fear these things.

My biggest struggle has been agoraphobia. When these fears begin to drown out my logic, the world takes on a different shape and color. Everything becomes too large. Sounds and colors are harsh. I feel like Alice after a bite of mushroom.

It's started to affect how I use social media. I don't get out much with my friends so I rely on Facebook, Twitter and texting to keep in touch with friends and relatives. When the fear gets out of hand then I shy away. I bring up the page and everything distorts. I feel as though everyone is reading what I'm typing and judging me right that second. I'm terrified to open a new page because it will just bring news of some disaster.

This last week has been buried in fear. There has been a lot of time on the couch with my head buried in books. I haven't spent nearly as much time as I should with my kids or cleaning the house. I haven't left the house since Sunday. I've rarely texted even my best friend or my mother.

Today, I took the kids for a walk. I texted my sister. I'm posting this blog post. I'm surfacing. I know that I'll go under again sometime but I'll still be OK. Fear will never win.

That Moment When...

You're sitting on the couch feeding your outrageously cranky 7-month old baby and she's only squirming around a little and not actually trying to roll over in your arms because what is life unless you're rolling over, Mom and then you look up and your 2-year old is curiously looking at the poop on her fingers.

*deep breath*

The baby is only halfway through her bottle so you know screams are coming and urp is probable so you're resigned to that but if you lay her on the couch next to you then she will immediately flip off and conk her giant noggin on the wooden floor and that really can't happen again - yes, again - so you lay her down and hook your leg around her as she desperately starts clawing at you trying to hurl herself to the floor while you reach towards the child who is digging for another handful.

*meditative thoughts*

Stretch your arm out while channeling ElastiGirl and grasp the stinky 2-year old by the wrist just before she wipes it on her shirt and gently lead her to the couch where you lay her in front of you and contort yourself to grab a wipe to get all visible poo before standing on your head to wrench a diaper out of the end table - thank The Lord, you refilled it - and calmly change your daughter while holding the snarling baby back with your calf.

*calm blue ocean*

Kiss the stinker and release her to the toys while picking up the baby who has now urped on your leg - but at least it's not the couch - and plug her gaping maw with the bottle behind your head.

Realize that bathtub gin did not come about because of Prohibition but because of desperate mothers needing a bigger receptacle.

Struggles and Smiles

Dear Rory,

You're now 7 and a half months old and things are a little tough. You've got two gigantic teeth breaking through your too gums. It makes me wince just to look at your poor little mouth!

Then there's the bazillion diapers that comes along with teething and the inevitable diaper rash that follows. Mama is trying hard to keep up with your stinky rear. I know you love prunes but we're going to have to lay off of them for a while.

There's a school of thought that says whenever you reach a new developmental stage, you have a hard time sleeping. I think that's happening. You're trying so hard to crawl lately. You get up on your hands and knees without really thinking about it. Of course, you either scoot backwards or face-plant. 

Today, you began screaming in your crib. When I went to get you, it looked like you had tried to sit up but couldn't keep yourself upright. You were folded over with your head in your lap. You struggled to sit up, screamed at me and flopped back over. Mommy didn't laugh. Promise. (Kind of.) This can't be helping your already sleep deprived state. Let's try to hold off on the acrobatics until you're fully awake, OK?

I love you to bits and pieces, Starlight. I know things are tough right now but you are such a big brave girl. You keep smiling and laughing through everything. Mama is so proud of you.

Love,

Mama

Sunshine

Daylight Savings Time gave us a baby awake early enough to hurt but too close to morning to go back to bed. Ben took her downstairs for a bottle. I stayed in bed for another hour nursing a headache. He ended up staying at home with Rory while I took the other three to church. He and Rory were exhausted and Sophie hates to miss church.

We go to Lake Pointe in Rockwall. It's a wonderful church. Steve Stroope is a man of The Lord who truly cares about this church. We have a good Life Group made up of people who are trying valiantly to populate the Earth all on their own. (Seriously. 9 babies are on their way.)

Lake Pointe also has the SOAR program. SOAR is a program for kids and adults with special needs. I'm exceedingly grateful for these amazing people that want to work with my children.

Especially since we just had to switch Milly from her regular preschool room to the SOAR program.

I'll be honest, this broke my heart. She's getting ECI therapy once a week and will start PPCD classes when she turns 3 in January. She has a speech delay. She doesn't focus well. She is still chewing a lot. None of the people who have evaluated her believe that this is autism. They think that the speech delay and having 2 autistic older siblings to emulate has pushed her behind. However, we're seeing a lot of progress and not any of the usual autism red flags.

It could still be autism. I have to be OK with that. Right now, I'm not. I'll keep teaching and learning Milly's needs. I'll thank God that she has a Sunday classroom where she can learn a little easier. I'll cry a little less each Sunday.

I will fight for my Sunshine.

Participation

Today begins NaNoWriMo. Writing every day in November? Let's give it another go.

Last night was Halloween. It was another Halloween that we didn't really celebrate. Not because we're fundamentalists ready to cry "witchcraft!" at every jack-o-lantern, but because it just didn't work for us this year.

We eat at 5:00. The kids play and then go to bed at 6:00. This is the routine.

YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE ROUTINE.

I made costumes for Sophie and Gideon this year. They don't really tolerate anything complicated so I just put together simple outfits of Jake and Izzy from Jake and the Neverland Pirates. (Their new obsession.) I bought a Princess Leia dress for Milly and a monkey costume for Rory.

We took them to a Fall Festival at the beginning of the month. It was hosted by the SOAR program at Lake Pointe Church. Sophie and Gideon go to the SOAR class on Sundays. It's one of the only churches we know of with a special needs program and we're grateful for it. They ate hot dogs and bounced around for an hour. They had a good time. It was too hot for Rory's money costume so she just wore a Halloween onesie.

Last night, we considered going Trick-or-Treating at Firewheel Mall but it was going to start too late for us. Gideon and Rory went grocery shopping with me and were exhausted. Milly didn't nap that day. So, no trick-or-treating this year.

I get frustrated sometimes when we have to miss something again. I want my kids to have these experiences. I want them to look back at pictures of Halloween costumes and Crazy Hair Day at school. I have to remember that it's about them and not about me. If they don't feel comfortable with dressing up or breaking routine then I have to respect that. They don't even understand the concept of Halloween yet and that's OK. We'll go when they understand it more.

I'll just stock up on clearanced candy for now.

Breakfast Casseroles

Last night, I made an easy dinner. I thought about taking some time to relax but instead I took the time without children hanging from my person to prep some breakfast for the week. I glanced through the fridge and pantry and came up with some random ingredients to work with. I read a few recipes and then just did what sounded good. Here's what I came up with.

Casserole #1 - Sausage, Potato and Cheddar

The Stuff

6 Eggs

Half & Half

House Seasoning*

Little potatoes

Breakfast sausage

Shredded cheddar

*House Seasoning (I use this in everything.)

Kosher Salt

Black Pepper

Onion Powder

Garlic Powder

The Process

Wash and peel your potatoes. I didn't peel them and Ben has requested that I peel them next time. Cube them up into about thumbnail size. Throw them onto a baking sheet with some house seasoning and olive oil. Roast at 400 until everything is crispy and brown. It should take about 25-30 minutes. I had some onion on the sheet too but I'll probably leave it out next time.

Blend the eggs and about a half of a cup of half & half together. I made both casseroles at the same time so it had 12 eggs and a little over a cup of half & half. I eyeballed the h&h. Put a big pinch of house seasoning into the eggs.

Brown the breakfast sausage in a big skillet. Leave the drippings in the pan if you're making the other casserole.

In a greased casserole dish - I forgot to grease it and that's a MISTAKE - throw in your sausage, potatoes and 1/2 a cup of cheddar. Mix it up and pour the egg mixture over everything. Shake the dish around to let the eggs settle. Top with a little more cheese.

Bake at 375 for 30-45 minutes until bubbly and brown on top. It's going to puff up a bit and those puffs are awesome.

Casserole #2 - Spinach, feta, mushroom and bacon

The Stuff

6 Eggs

Half & half

House Seasoning

Sliced mushrooms

1 box of frozen spinach, thawed

Feta

6 slices of bacon

The Process

First, I laid the bacon on a ridged baking dish and baked it at 400 for 20 minutes. Mine was thick cut bacon so it took a while to cook. This is my go-to method for cooking bacon. It can cook while I do other stuff. I had it in the oven with the potatoes from the other casserole.

With the sausage drippings from the other casserole, I added 2 tablespoons of butter in the skillet and let it melt. I dumped in a small container of sliced mushrooms and let them brown over medium heat. Once they had started to brown, I took the thawed spinach and tossed it in with them. Remember to squeeze all of the moisture from your spinach. I forgot that too and it makes a big difference. Add a big pinch of house seasoning and let that goodness cook.

In a greased casserole dish - GREASE IT UP - toss the mushroom and spinach mixture. Chop up the bacon and add a cup of feta cheese. Mix everything up. Pour the egg and h&h mixture over everything and shake it to let it settle. Bake at 375 for 30-45 minutes.

This was DIVINE. It tastes decadent but I don't think it's too bad for you. Ben really liked his casserole. Cut them into squares and it can be refrigerated or even frozen for later. It's a quick and hearty breakfast.

Now, go forth and produce noms.

Valid

For the mom wondering if her baby will ever sleep through the night...

For the mom wondering if her son will ever speak...

For the mom who just told her daughter to turn off the TV for the fifth time because she has homework...

For the mom laying awake wondering if the lights will still be on tomorrow...

For the mom yawning in the stands at another soccer game...

For the mom pouring a second glass of wine after chasing a 2-year old bent on destruction all day...

For the mom anxiously wondering if her daughter is eating right while she's at college...

For the mom in tears wondering why her son feels the need to escape into drugs when she's right there...

It doesn't matter what your problems look like when compared to others. They are yours and they are valid. You are allowed to be tired, frustrated, to cry and to want it to end.

Wonder Baby

Kiddo,

You are a chubby ball of amazing.

You're 4 months old now. (Well, you will be on the 28th.) I'm not sure how much you weigh but it's over 13 pounds.

You grab at toys and shove them in your mouth. Is this a preview to teething? I don't feel any bumps.

You babble and chat all day long. You started calling for "ma-ma" whenever you want to be picked up. That's MUCH earlier than we expected!

You like to lay and kick while cooing at the ceiling fan. We try to do this every time the older kids are down for quiet time so that no one tramples you.

I cannot imagine life without your smiles and conversations. I love feeling your chubby little body in my arms as you snuggle to sleep with your star blanket and your paci.

Mama loves you, RoBo.

Not Going Back

Sophie, Gideon and Milly have been going to a Mother's Day Out program twice a week this summer. Last week was a break between sessions.

Tonight I got a call asking us not to bring Milly back.

Milly has been chewing things since November of last year. It started when my mother noticed her licking the grout on their fireplace. Then we started noticing bite marks here and there on the corners of the walls. Milly has dug holes in the drywall large enough to fit a softball. In two weeks of moving into the new house she's marked nearly every single corner. She goes and hides to chew sometimes and sometimes it seems almost absent-minded. She always stops when we tell her but will go back to it minutes later as if it were a compulsion.

The wooden furniture is chewed. We have to buy only plastic toys with no stickers or paint. We can't paint the walls. I have to watch her like a hawk in public or at other people's houses.

We've spoken to her pediatrician who ordered blood tests. Her lead levels were normal and her iron was low. We've been giving her iron supplements daily. ECI was told and agreed that it was probably a habit now and might be related to anxiety. (There has been a lot of upheaval in the last 6 months.)

The selfish part of me is angry. This is humiliating. I've had so many people (MDO, Sunday church workers, other moms) ask me if I know that she's chewing things. They all try to say it so gently. This is after I've tried to tell them about it when I drop her off and show them the special blanket covered in tags that she chews on. This is not news to me. I am well aware of this issue.

I think that's what insults me the most. It's the feeling that people are looking at me and my child and wondering why I'm not putting a stop to this behavior. Don't I understand how destructive and potentially harmful this is?

Yes. I understand that eating paint is not recommended for children under 5.

I have noticed the behavior. I'm not sitting back with my fingers crossed hoping that it goes away. I'm working my butt off trying to change her behavior. Im researching methods and consulting therapists and doctors. Unfortunately, 2-year olds are not known for their cooperative attitudes.

So now, we'll just not take Milly to MDO. It's OK. I'll take that extra time with just her and we'll work even harder. Maybe even tackle the potty.

I refuse to give up on my kid.

Judgement Lapse

We had Gideon's birthday party on Saturday. My Little Prince is four now. It's both devastating and wonderful.

He was a trooper through all of the attention. My grandparents, my mother, my brother and sister-in-law and their three kiddos were all there to celebrate this blessed little boy. We ate pizza and cake and he opened his presents. We planned on going swimming that afternoon.

I left with Sophie first because I don't have a card to get into the pool and I hoped that a Good Samaritan would let us in and then I would tell Ben to go get the rest of the crew. My grandparents had gone home because of the heat. We got in and Ben went back for the rest. Sophie and I started swimming around.

About 15 minutes later, I saw my mother and Ben come in the gate. Ben was carrying Rory in her carseat and Mom had an armful if stuff. Patrick and Roxanne followed with Patrick leading his two boys and Roxanne carrying their little girl.

Notice anything missing?

Ben came to the side of the pool and our Rory down. I asked him where Milly was. He looked shocked. I thought he was kidding and looked closer at Mom.

Nope. Not kidding.

Ben sprinted back to my Mom and I saw him frantically talk to her. I stuck my head up and yelled "I HAVE FOUR NOW!!!" Ben ran to the car and sped down the street to retrieve our peacefully napping daughter who was none the wiser.

Before you think I'm picking on my husband, let me remind you that FOUR ADULTS left that house and turned this into a sitcom.

Mandatory head counts have been mandated before we go anywhere. No child left behind, indeed.

My girlfriend made this today and sent it to Ben. It's going to make a great story for her wedding.