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.

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.

Quiet Time

My quiet time with God is never at the same time. I don't sit down at the table with a journal, a cup of coffee and my Bible app ready to spend a quiet hour contemplating the scriptures. I have four kids under 5. My quiet time is usually one of the following:

• I'm on the potty and they haven't found me yet.
• In a hot bath trying to work the kink out of my back after picking up the playroom.
• When I wake up an hour before my alarm because the baby started fussing and I'm trying to assess just how urgent her needs are.
• In the car when I'm going back to Target because Milly threw a fit yesterday and I blanked out on half of my list while trying to keep her from exploding in the dairy aisle.
• During the kids' quiet time when everyone is in their rooms and the baby is finally asleep in her swing.

When I do have these times with God, I usually just talk to Him like a friend. It always feels like a conversation. I pray about those that need something. I pray about the names He gives me but I don't know why. I pray about my kids. I pray that I won't fling my kids off of the roof. I pray over my husband. I pray that my husband won't fling the kids off of the roof.

Sometimes everything is serious:

"Lord, I want to go back to college so badly. I want to get a degree in Biblical Studies. I feel like You would like for me to do this. But that's ridiculous, right? I can't start until all of the kids are in school full-time and I wouldn't be done until I'm in my 40's. What would You do with a 43-year old mother of four who hasn't worked in 20 years?"

Sometimes I get curious:

"So, lettuce has no real nutritive value. Iceberg lettuce, I mean. I know that there are some dark, leafy greens that I'm supposed to be eating all of the time. But, lettuce? Are we doing it wrong? Did You actually make it for some other purpose and we just started eating it because it's crunchy and good with ranch? Are You looking down on us and chuckling at your adorable little children like I do when Milly wears her Easter basket like a hat?"

What this really boils down to is that I am constantly talking to God. I feel close to Him and that helps me when I need direction. He wants this, too. You don't need to make an appointment to talk to Him. You don't need to only come to Him with giant life-changing questions. You're His child. He just wants to talk to you.

Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole

It started with drooling over Pioneer Woman's Ranch Style Chicken. Then I found this honey mustard chicken dish from Six Sisters Stuff. (I LOVE THAT SITE.) So, I started brainstorming how to make this my own. Here's what I came up with. I served it with cheesy bacon potatoes from the same site. I also put peas and corn on the side because we're just healthy like that.

Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole

The Stuff:
2 chicken breasts, cubed
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup mustard (I used yellow but Dijon would be great.)
2 pinches of house seasoning*
1/2 tsp dried rosemary (Fresh would be wonderful.)
6 slices of bacon
1 TBSP butter
shredded cheddar cheese

*House seasoning is what I call my mix of kosher salt, black pepper, garlic powder and onion powder. I use it in everything. Except cake.

The Process:
Throw the chicken cubes in a freezer bag and cover with the mustard, honey, house seasoning and rosemary. Squish it around to mix everything. Marinate or freeze for later.

When you're ready for dinner, preheat the oven to 375. Fry your bacon in a skillet until it's crisp. Remove to a plate to drain but keep the bacon fat in the skillet. Add the butter to the bacon fat.

I know. I'm not doing Weight Watchers yet.

Saute your marinated chicken in the bacon-butter mixture and laugh devilishly. Once it is browned, pour it into a casserole dish. Crumble the bacon on top of the chicken. Sprinkle a generous layer of cheese over the top. Bake this bad boy for about 12 minutes until it's brown and bubbly and amazing on top.

Serve this to your husband and listen to him groan with delight and demand that you make it every week.