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

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.

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.

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.

Magic Switch

I feel as though all this blog has become is complaints about my broken kids. It's like everyone else has been ordering their kids from Mercedes and I just got three Pintos assembled by people who's only contact with cars were from watching Bullitt dubbed in Mandarin.

Milly eats odd things. She chews on the corners of the walls. She digs out drywall and eats it. She chews sidewalk chalk like it's a stick of candy. She eats dirt. We thought it was a phase but it began escalating. She knows that she's not supposed to chew. She startles and runs when we catch her. She hides to chew longer. It seems almost like a compulsion. Sunday school teachers, Mother's Day Out teachers, babysitters and others have commented on it. No one has any advice. We asked our pediatrician for help. She suggested an iron deficiency that is forcing her to go in search of the minerals she needs. We had her tested and she is anemic. We start iron supplements tomorrow.

Milly still rarely talks. We have been approved for ECI but we've never been able to schedule anything because of the new baby, bedrest and moving. Now that we're settled, ECI is reviewing her file and she'll start once-a-week sessions.

She's learned autistic behaviors from her older siblings. She's never been around her peers. She's not autistic. We've had her evaluated and I don't see the same things I see in Sophie and Gideon. Those behaviors must still be unlearned. She's in a day camp two days a week around other two year olds.

We address every concern. We pounce to fix anything physical and begin coaching the not-easily-fixed. It's a battle. I feel like so many look at me as though its my fault. Like they need to know the name of the prenatal vitamins I took so they can avoid broken kids, too.

People, I read to my kids in the womb. I stared them in their tiny infant faces and talked to them. I avoided baby talk just in case it was detrimental. I didn't eat hot dogs while I was pregnant and I only had sushi once. I did everything right! And still I battle. I look at Rory with so much fear. What's wrong with this one? It's hard to enjoy your baby when you're examining every response to see if it's "normal".

Ultimately, God gave me Sophie, Gideon, Milly and Rory. He will give me what I need to raise them. I must remember that.

For Mama

My mother taught me...

• to keep a closet full of classics and accessorize with the trendy.
• to be kind to everyone, including those who mistreat you. You don't know their story.
• to use your hands to pat out biscuit dough because a rolling pin will make them too flat.
• that stay-at-home mothers need not feel like they're freeloading non-workers. There are many ways for us to save money at home.
• to trust in God's timing and provision. But it's still OK to call your mom and tell her that you're scared.
• that mascara, lipstick and a little blush can completely pull together your look.
• to breathe deep whenever you feel overwhelmed.
• that you don't have to try to go to sleep but you do need to close your eyes and be still.
• to belly laugh at funny things.
• to encourage my children to take new steps while reassuring them that I'm here if they fall.

My mother is my inspiration, my friend, my role model and my safe place. I know that I have always been loved and I can never do anything that will make my mother turn her back on me. Her arms will always be open and ready to embrace me.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama.

Waiting

Last week got a little interesting. By interesting, I'm using Wash's definition.

Wash: "This landing is gonna get pretty interesting"

Mal: "Define 'interesting'."

Wash: [deadpan] "Oh God, oh God, we're all going to die?"

On Thursday, my nurse came out to give me my progesterone shot. It's the last one. Hooray! She got out the doppler and began searching for Rory's heartbeat. She couldn't find anything. I kept twisting and turning to see if we could get her to turn or move but I wasn't feeling anything. Finally, we found her and got her to kick. Her heartbeat started at a normal 145 BPM but then dropped down to 90. Alarmed, my nurse called my doctor and said that she thought I needed to come in and be monitored. Doctor agreed and Ben and I took off.

I was supposed to go to the doctor that day at 1:30 so it wasn't much of a difference to go to Labor and Delivery Triage instead. They hooked me up to the monitors and began some tests. My heart rate was too fast. Rory's heart rate was too fast. Blood was taken to check for diabetes or preeclampsia. I laid on the bed and tried hard not to let my mind run away. I wasn't having many contractions and they were still mild. Finally, everything came back normal. My heart rate had come down and so did Rory's. They did a quick sonogram and Rory looked great. Her fluid level was right on the borderline of normal/high but it wasn't enough to warrant any intervention. I'm dilated to a 2. I was sent home with orders to take it easy but that I was off of bedrest.

The next day was officially 37 weeks. This was the day I had Milly. There were already a lot of labor warning signs and I assumed that this would go much the same way. My mother had taken the kids the night before in anticipation of Rory's possible arrival. Ben took me to breakfast and we did a little shopping. I came home to rest and then went out with Mom and Milly. We shopped around and I realized that contractions were getting stronger and closer together. It's working! We're almost done! Look at the cute Easter headbands that make your daughters look like giant flowers!

Grandma left before the kiddos came home on the bus from school. We played a bit and made dinner. Suddenly those kind of contractions became double-over-and-nearly-scream contractions. They were 2 minutes apart and lasting for over a minute. I could barely breathe between them. We called my parents and they came back over. We loaded up and took off for the hospital assuming that we would be a family of 6 in no time.

We make it into Labor and Delivery and start getting hooked up. The doctor checks me and I'm dilated to a 3. That's it?!? After all of this? I feel like I'm being torn in half! They check me and realize that I'm pretty dehydrated. Rory still sounds fine but she's not turned down correctly. She's hitting my pelvic bone. My bag of waters is right there but Rory's not hitting it enough to break it. They hook me up to a saline IV and unhook the other monitors. They tell me that I'll go home after getting hydrated. So...we're not having a baby? I "get" to go labor at home? Well...alright. I get three bags of saline and the contractions all but disappear. The dehydration was making them seem 10 times worse than what they were. So we go home around midnight and try to sleep.

Ben takes me the next day to breakfast and then to get a pedicure. He goes and buys a birthing ball. The man is a flipping saint. We load up the car and go pick up the kids from the grandparents. Here we find out how hard Gideon is taking things. The night before he had started fussing when my Dad got there. Papa cuddled him and Gideon fell asleep on his shoulder. When Grandma and my sister came over, they got everyone loaded up to take them to dinner. Gideon began crying when he woke up and didn't stop. They passed him around at the restaurant trying to soothe him. My mother finally held him and covered him up with a jacket to block everything out. He fell asleep again. He cried when they left and passed out that night. We came to get him on Saturday afternoon. He was clingy and needed so much extra reassurance. For the last week his life has been upside down. Mama and Daddy keep disappearing for some reason. Sometimes Daddy picks him up from day care and sometimes it's Grandma. One night he'll sleep at home and the next he'll sleep at Grandma's. He just doesn't understand what's going on and it's making him upset.

We spent Saturday night out on a date. The kids went to a Parent's Night Out that we had registered for a week ago. Ben and I went to dinner and then came home to rest. I took a hot bath and stayed off my feet. We called his parents and filled them in on everything that's happened. Ben went and picked up the kids and we put them to bed. Then we tried to go to sleep. From 11:30 to 4 AM I could not sleep. My heart kept racing, I was having bad contractions and I could not lay down without intense pain. I sat up at 2 AM and drank 32 ounces of apple juice to see if hydrating would make the contractions stop. They stopped but I was still in a lot of pain. At 4, I woke Ben up crying. I just needed sleep and I couldn't sleep. He convinced me to take some sleeping pills and to not worry about the kids in the morning. I could sleep as long as I needed. I took the pills and finally drifted off. I got on-and-off sleep until noon on Sunday. I got to cuddle my oldest for an hour. I played with Milly and watched as Gideon stayed in a quiet room with his iPad for hours. My babies were OK. I cooked dinner that night. Sunday was a great day.

In the midst of all of this, we've been trying to buy a house. I'm not even kidding. We found one house that we really like and we're submitting a bid. We would move in May. It's exciting but it's adding a layer of HOLY MOLY to our lives.

Today is quiet. Milly is twirling while she watches Mickey. The kids are at daycare. I feel fine and haven't seen much labor signs so I think she's staying put. I'll see my doctor tomorrow.

Now we just wait.

To Care and Be Cared For

Since my children were born, I have been the one to care for nearly all of their medical needs. I tracked what the two oldest ate in their respective NICU stays. I'm always the one to take them to regular check-ups. I know their medical histories and can tell a doctor when they started barfing and how high the fevers got. I was the one to stay with Gideon in both of his hospital pneumonia stays. I've held each kiddo down for shots and wiped tears after. I know that when passing out stickers and suckers that Sophie and Milly like any kind of sucker but Gideon prefers orange and that Milly eats stickers.

Last week, I had to give up my usual position. On Monday, the girls went to the doctor for their 5-year and 2-year check-ups. My mother took them. She was the one to hold Sophie's hands while the doctor looked in her ears. (Sophie hates people touching her head.) She held Milly during her shots and cuddled her after.

On Thursday, we got a call from the school nurse saying that Gideon was listless and running a fever. Ben went to get him and laid him down for a nap. I can't drive and I'm not supposed to pick him up. I held him during breathing treatments that night and let him sleep on my chest. On Friday, he was worse and my mother took him to the doctor. His fever had spiked to almost 103. Both ears were infected and the strep test was positive. She brought him home and whisked the girls away for the weekend. I was able to give him medicine and cuddle but Mom was the one who held my feverish baby while the doctor swabbed his throat. How that must have scared him! Ben was the one who held him down for medicine he refused to take. Ben took him to the duck pond on Sunday when he was feeling better.

On Sunday, Sophie smashed her finger at Grandma's house. My mom and dad calmed her down, cleaned it and put ice packs on it while she curled up in her Minnie Mouse blanket. When she came home, I didn't like how much it was still bleeding and I called the after hours nurse who said to get her to the ER. Ben took her. He held her and told her how brave she was. He and two other nurses and a doctor wrestled her to get her bandage off. (Forget soccer. I'm putting her on a wrestling team.) He held her for an X-ray which showed a broken fingertip. Her first broken bone. He dried her tears, praised her bravery and carried her out.

Three times this week I was reminded that there are many other people that can care for my children. Ben told me that God was possibly doing this on purpose to release my sense of control. Perhaps God was asking me to take care of Rory since I'm the only one who can right now.

It truly does take a village!

In My Head

Do I love my kids? Yes.

Do I hate being a parent of kids with autism? You have no idea how much.

My kids were given to me for a reason. I know that. I also know that whatever challenges God gives me, He will also give the resources needed to meet them. He has never once said that it would be easy. In fact, He says that it's more than likely going to be hard.

A battle.
A struggle.
A trial.
A valley of darkness.

All leave me tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

I'm tired of people watching my 5-year old have a meltdown and then looking at me like I'm a permissive parent who spoils my bratty kid.

I'm tired of people asking me why my son covers his ears, doesn't make eye contact, flaps his hands and babbles.

I'm tired of people asking me if Milly is "normal" and then saying that she's two and ready to be potty trained.

I'm tired of people asking me if I'm worried about Rory being normal or ignored.

Most of all? I'm tired of people acting like I'm a saint for taking care of these poor unfortunate souls. They are my kids. They are the most amazing little beings I have ever seen. There is no other option. However, I'm still allowed to be tired, frustrated, and angry at this whatever-autism-is disorder that causes me to be cut off from my incredible kids.

I have a rock, a strength, a refuge in my God. For this, I am grateful. He knows the outcome and is already stretching out his arms to embrace me before I even know that I'm about to break again. He anticipates my needs. He lifts my burdens if I am willing to give them up.

For this, I am thankful.

Bed Rest Conversations

Me: *contractions are hurting so I lie down on my right side*

Rory: "Don't like this side. Roll over."

Me: *sigh and turn to lay on my left*

Rory: "Don't like this side. Turn over."

Me: "Kid, I have no more available sides."

Rory: "Don't like that kidney."

Me: "Leave the kidney alone. It's not hurting you."

Rory: "It's touching me."

Me: "Deal."

Rory: "Don't like this side."

Me: "It's going to be a long 7 weeks."

Ways I've Been That Mom

10. I regularly let my daughter walk around without pants. It's just us here, we ain't fancy and I don't want to have a half hour talk/fit trying to convince her to put her pants back on.

9. I've wiped noses with my shirt. In public.

8. My kids know the opening to The Simpsons and my daughter says "D'oh!"

7. I take advantage of my kids' echolalia by getting them to say funny things. Then I hope that they don't repeat it at school.

6. When my daughter obsessively smooths every single wrinkle from the blanket she's laid out, I smile proudly at my little OCD nutcase.

5. I have held my sobbing daughter through a particularly hard poop.

4. I sing along to Sesame Street songs and try to get the kids involved. There's visible eye rolling.

3. I've licked my hand to smooth down the boy's hair.

2. Sometimes it's just easier to serve noodles 5 days in a row than argue.

1. I've already considered grounding the littlest for making me spend 2 months on bed rest.

Listen to Me

I'm pregnant with my fourth kid. You would think that by this point, I'm used to the Mom Things. This one was new and a little unsettling.

So, we're at a playground and the precious little minions are running around like goobers. The big one is going down the big slide and that's a BIG DEAL, MAMA. It's the BIG SLIDE. So I let her go nuts as long as she doesn't knock anyone out of the way and gets out of the way of the bottom as soon as she goes down. The Boy has decided that Papa's iPhone is much more interested than any of this play equipment that is surely disease-ridden and used for torture purposes. The baby is waddling around the 3-and-Under play area trying to put everything in her mouth. Luckily, everything is attached to the floor. Unluckily, that just means that I have the kid that keeps licking the McDonalds Toddler Play Area carpet.

Note to self: Get tetanus shot for the baby.

Suddenly, three big kids (8? 9?) come barreling into the toddler area. They race up the teensy little slide and surf down. Toddlers scatter like chickens. Without a thought, I look up and BELLOW at these boys.

"Nuh-uh! No big kids in the baby area! OUT! NOW!"

Those kids jumped a mile and ran like their butts were on fire.

Evidently, I now have the Mom Voice. AND IT WORKS.

Specifically

Sophie: "May I cheese?"

Me: "Cheese? Sure!"

*go to the kitchen*

Sophie: "Issa yeh-no cheese!"

Me: "OK."

Sophie: "Issa yeh-no stick cheese!"

Me: "Got it."

Sophie: "Issa yah-no stick cheese for Sophie!"

Me: "WORKING ON IT!"

*deliver yellow stick cheese*

Sophie: "May I drink?"

Me: "Oy."

Hold Them Tight

Ben brought Milly home from Mother's Day Out this afternoon. It was raining so he carried her under the umbrella. She grinned when she saw me at the door and I smiled back. She threw off her backpack and began looking for a toy. Her daddy made her some chocolate milk and I gave her a cherry cookie from the batch we picked up at the Collin Street Bakery. I picked her up and we sat on the couch while she played with the iPad. Her little belly was full of milk and cookie, her thumb was in her mouth and her beloved taggie blanket was in her lap. She grinned and giggled as we read the Grover and Elmo book.

At 3:30, the bus honked outside to let us know that Sophie and Gideon were home. I stashed the iPad so they wouldn't fight over it. They ran in and tossed their backpacks to me. Sophie took off her shoes and socks like she does every day after school within 2 minutes of walking in the door. Gideon still had his hoodie on with the hood up. He likes the safe and cocooned feeling. I hugged them tight and passed out drinks. We watched Mickey Mouse Playhouse and laughed.

There are parents in Connecticut that will never hug their children again. They will never hear giggles and belly laughs. Christmas will forever have a new meaning for them.

Psalm 91:4 says "He will spread his wings over you and keep you secure..."

Matthew 23:37 says "...I have often wanted to gather your people, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you wouldn’t let me."

God wants so badly to keep us safe under His wings. However, He knows that we were given the free will to leave the safety of those wings. I believe that God wants us to exercise that free will. He wants us to venture from the nest to learn and grow. We take with us the lessons He has taught us and do our best to live by them. When we are hurt, tired or under attack then we are always welcomed back under His wings.

This is what I believe.
This is what I will remember.
This is what I will tell my children.
This is what I will imitate for my children while here on Earth.
This is where I will run.

We Need More Glitter

Remember how insistent I was that we were having another boy? How I lorded it over Ben that I had known - not just guessed - with the others and I was right again? The boasting that I was their mother and I knew them before they were fully formed?

Apparently, I got myself mixed up with God.

Apparently, God likes gently toppling over those who get a little grandiose with their thoughts.

We poked, prodded and twirled that kid around to get a look at every angle. I finally believed her when she turned the baby upside down and spread eagle and said "Kelly, if it was there then it would be dangling."

Well...alright then. We're having another beautiful little girl! That makes 3 girls and one very spoiled Little Prince. I'm still trying to wrap my head around this. 3 girls?!? That's A LOT of drama. That's a lot of pink. MY SISTER IS ALREADY TALKING ABOUT MORE TUTUS.

Since I was so set on another boy, we're lacking in the baby girl name department. My only rule is that the name not start with "D" to avoid people calling her DeeDee. Ben has a much more extensive process.

• No Welsh ("Come back with more vowels.")
• No Shakespeare ("Ophelia died after going bat-crap crazy!")
• No obviously sci/fi, fantasy or comic book related ("We are not naming her 'River' or 'Willow' so stop asking.")
• Nothing too common ("We already have Sophie.")
• Meaning is something good ("Mara means 'bitter'. Try again!")
• Must sound like a regular girl ("'Agnes' sounds like an old lady and 'Eden' sounds like a stripper!")
• Nothing that sounds too country-specific ("WOW, that's Irish/Jewish/German.")

We have our work cut out for us.

Bits and Pieces

I am just no good at this blogging everyday thing. Here's what's been going on lately.

• Gideon is addicted to cheese. He eats two or three cheese sticks a day. Last night, I introduced him to Rotel dip. It's now his new love language.
• I've been pulling clothes and doing laundry all week. I think I finally have all of the kids' clothes ready to pack. Onto the adults stuff tonight.
• I've been mainlining Law & Order lately. It ticks me off that Netflix only has the first 8 seasons of the original show. I've watched all of them and moved on to SVU.
• Milly has a new lovey. It's a blanket with tags all around the sides. She tiptoes around the house with the lovey clutched to her cheek and her thumb in her mouth. CUTEST. THING. EVER.
•  Sophie got her hair cut at the salon. We went as soon as they opened and I let her explore for 20 minutes before sitting down. She did a great job. Her new haircut suits her perfectly!

And now, the picture parade...

Anniversary

Yesterday was the 9th anniversary of the day I lost my first baby. It's also the first time I did not remember until the day after. I suppose I've healed more than I thought.

9 years ago, I was married to my first husband. We had tried for nearly 9 months to get pregnant with no results. Those two lines were the most amazing sight I'd ever seen. I called my family in tears and squealed with my girlfriends at work. It was a Friday. All weekend I floated on air.

On Tuesday morning, I woke up and spent the day in the ER. An ultrasound showed no baby.

I felt empty. I felt like a failure. I didn't want to speak, go to work, bathe or do anything other than sleep and watch TV. That lasted for years.

Now I have 3 children and another kicking my insides. While they are very healing, I know that it truly began after I turned back to prayer and started taking my therapy seriously. I'm grateful for every person that helped me through that dark time.

If this has happened to you, please know that it will get better. You are not alone.

Baby Update

I skipped the post for yesterday and I nearly skipped today. Last night, I was juggling a lot of body issues and a filthy fridge. Ben helped me clean out the fridge - praise GOD for him - and I finally relieved enough pain to fall asleep around 1 AM.

This pregnancy is kicking my tuckus. Let's run down the numbers.

HOW FAR ALONG ARE YOU?
18 weeks

HOW BIG IS THE BABY?
According to the emails, the baby is the length of a bell pepper and weighs about 7 ounces. The little monster is big enough to put an ache in my back if I walk too much and I can feel teensy kicks.

ANY ISSUES?
OH GOLLY GEE...I think the worst is this freakin' rash. Sometimes having a parasite invade your body makes your body revolt in interesting ways. In this case, it's acting like I'm allergic. I'm itchy, bumpy, red and that makes me seriously irritable. Thank the Lord for aloe with lidocane. I also get some pretty wicked heartburn which makes me wonder about the old wives tale that says "heartburn" equals "baby will have hair". It was true for Gideon and Milly. Sophie was my only bald baby.

ANY CRAVINGS?
I would love to bathe in pasta and orange Gatorade.

WHAT COMES NEXT?
I'll hit 20 weeks during Thanksgiving but we'll be in Arizona. I'll go on the 28th to see if the baby gets showy. I'm also going to start my progesterone shots next week. My excitement. LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU. Every week until the baby gets here, I'll get a shot in my hip. This should keep the baby cooking until full term.

I love my babies but my body hates pregnancy. It's going to be fun to see this little one.

My Shopping Trip

We needed some errands run today. I did the summer-to-winter clothes switch in the kids room and took inventory. Gideon was fine. Milly could use some shirts. Sophie had 2 shirts, 2 jeans and 2 pants to her name. The pants are nearing high-water territory and the jeans give her plumbers crack. Since she's so difficult to fit, I brought Sophie along with me. We also took a play kitchen that the kids only use so they can slam the fake fridge door.

I've realized that Sophie is out of toddler clothes and starting to need little girl clothes. My usual go-to place is Target and resale shops for kiddo clothes. Unfortunately, I've seen very little in the way of clothes I will allow my little girl to wear in Target. Off to Once Upon a Child we went. We turned in the kitchen at the front and began to browse. Sophie trotted up and down aisles pulling every blingy-sequiny pink and purple piece of clothing down.

"IS SO PITTY! IS SPARKERS!"
"Yes, dear. I know you prefer the Liberace look."

Here's what we came home with:

• pair of jeans (Sophie)
• pair of purple pants (Sophie)
• 4 long sleeved shirts (Sophie)
• sweater dress (Sophie)
• jacket (Sophie)
• 3 dinosaurs (Gideon)
• Texas Tech onesie (New Kid)
• Rangers dress (Milly)
• sparkly purple hair bow (Sophie)

 After the resale of the kitchen and a 20% coupon, I paid a little over $20. TWENTY DOLLARS. This is why it pays to shop resale.

After the victory lap, we ran to Target for a few things. Sophie and I go to Target often and at the end of the shopping trip we usually get an Icee for Sophie and a drink for me. Sophie laid back in the cart with her cherry Icee and grinned at me.

"I love a shop wit Mama."

So do I, baby.

Picky Eaters

It's hard to cook every night. I've tried making meal plans, prepping food and freezing it, shopping only for a week and trying to use it up before going back to the store, etc. It all comes down to making myself get up and go to the blasted kitchen. I have a few go-to recipes that Ben and I enjoy. We like chicken parm casserole, Greek chicken pitas, sour cream chicken enchiladas and shredded BBQ chicken sandwiches.

Then...there are the kids.

I was about to type that Sophie is my pickiest eater but I deleted it. Honestly, Gideon now takes that crown. He likes the following:

• deli ham, plain
• crunchy cheetos
• pop tarts
• jelly sandwiches
• dry apple jacks
• oranges and pineapple

Wow. I didn't know the list was that short until I started making it. Sophie's list is three times that length! Milly is more adventurous and just doesn't like to get bored.

They also all have different texture issues. Gideon used to like bananas but now he doesn't want to hold them. Sophie loses her mind at anything sticky. Milly doesn't like handling cold meat.

Tonight, I made a big pot of spaghetti. Plain stuff; browned hamburger from the freezer, leftover Prego and noodles. Nothing fancy.

Sophie ate a HUGE plateful and patted her distended belly.
Milly picked out some noodles and bit them in half.
Gideon stared at his plate.

Unless I start making fruit platters for dinner, they're never going to eat the same thing at the same time.

What are your family favorites? Any odd aversions?