Laaaaaid Back

This is how Luke fell asleep while I was wearing him last Sunday at a baby shower. He loves to sleep with his head in the weirdest positions. He loves to sleep. I love that he loves to sleep.

He does wake up a couple of times at night, which I fully expect to continue for a long time. What I was not expecting was this weird, almost telepathic connection between my children. HOW does Ella know every time he wakes up during the night and at naps? I pick him up and feed him before he cries, yet she still wakes up. Is he sending out a bat signal I don't know about? I wanted my children to have a close relationship, but I think this level of closeness might make me lose my sanity.

The EGR Update
Aside from fully frustrating me with her sleep regression, her uncanny knack for pooping every time I sit down to nurse, and her pretend crying every time Luke cries, she's hilarious.

On the way to school yesterday, she asked me, "Where is the gun?"
Me: Um, did you say gun?
EGR: Uh-huh.
Me: We don't have a gun.
EGR: Grandma does.
Indeed, Grandma does have a gun. And it stays at her house.

On the way home from school, we had another discussion about not touching the door handles while we are riding in the car (the child locks are on, by the way). It went like this.
EGR: You don't want to see me touch it?
Me: Touch what?
EGR: The door?
Me: Oh, the handle? No, you cannot touch it. I don't want you to fall out of the car while I'm driving. What would I do if you fell out?
EGR: You would pick me up, kiss me, and put me back.
She has an answer for everything.

The director at the preschool stopped me last week to discuss moving Ella up to an older class. Her verbal language is apparently pretty advanced compared to the other kids in her class and they want to move her to a class with other kids that talk as well as she does. The kids in the new class are six to nine months older than her and potty trained. She could be potty trained, but she hasn't made that decision yet. Dave and I decided to give the move a try and see how it goes. I'm thinking she might have been getting bored already, and I'm hoping an older class might help with some of the regression we are seeing at home. I'd also love for peer pressure to work it's magic in the area of potty training.

She had a trial period yesterday just to see how she'd react to going into the class with the other kids, and she did great. She wasn't even hesitant or shy with them. Today is the first day they were sending her to the new class from the start, and she was excited about it so I can't wait to hear what she has to say about it this afternoon.

Our Toilet Saga

Over the weekend, Dave realized the basement toilet was leaking. He soaked up the mess with towels and turned off the water. He thought. Tuesday, he realized the water wasn't off because the valve was broken and there was water all over the floor again. He soaked that up and set up a bucket to catch the drip.



Ella came upstairs and announced, "Oh gosh, our potty's broken." As if that's the only one in the house.



Dave and I discussed a plan and I added "toilet guts" and "quarter-turn shut off valve" to my list of things to get the next day. I could hear water dripping into the bucket from the kitchen. It wasn't pretty. On the way to Lowe's, we discussed again and decided to just go ahead and buy a new toilet. The one in the basement was probably put in when the house was built. It's ancient and it has issues - issues other than the leak.



With my entourage in tow, we went to Lowe's and shopped for a toilet. I finally found the same one we just put in our new bathroom and I had my personal Lowe's assistant load it up for me. He was happy to help. Dave got home and assessed the situation again only to discover that the ancient toilet is cemented to the floor. He replaced the shut off valve so we could turn off the water and loaded the new toilet back into my car so Luke and I could return it and follow the original plan of getting the toilet guts to repair the old one.



On the way to school this morning, Ella asked me if Georgia was in the back (she usually goes to school with us) and I explained that she wasn't because the toilet was back there and I had to take it back. We talked about the leak and that Daddy had fixed it all the way to school. In the carpool line, the lady who always gets her out of the car greeted her like she has every morning for a month. For the very first time, Ella actually responded. She said,"Our toilet is broken." I burst out laughing. Then she continued with, "Water is leaking." I could hear her telling the lady all the way in the door about Daddy fixing it and making it better. Who knew a broken toilet would finally get her to talk to the carpool teachers? One of the ladies told me, "She's such a grown up in that little body." Indeed, she is.



The EGR Update

If you pay attention to her ongoing dialog while she's playing, you will hear her "reading" her books to her babies. She has many of them memorized now. You'll also hear her read her Bible, which could be any random piece of paper she finds; I think it's because of the Bible story pages they use in Sunday school. She reads it like this, in her reading voice: "The Bible loves me this I know, Jesus tells me so." I love it.



She also pretends to be the teacher now and I've heard her tell her students that she was going to paint their hands for their mommies and daddies, and to "put your hands together; we are going to say the blessing." I've heard her sing the blessing once, but she won't do it again. When I ask her what her students are learning at school, she tells me "Jesus." I have to hand it to the Concord program, Jesus is the prevailing theme there. She's learning all kinds of things: colors, letters, shapes, songs, stories, manners, etc. but Jesus is the one thing she always comes home with.



The H. Luke Update

The Little Man has started to coo at us - usually when Ella and I are having breakfast and he's sitting at the table with us. He's growing so fast, it's already time to clean some clothes out of the dresser - many of them he has never even worn because they are long-sleeved and/or footed. I also think I need to take the extra head support out of his carseat, but he still needs it. I may need to just go ahead and adjust the straps for him. I have a feeling we'll be buying him a convertible seat before he's a year old because he's going to outgrow the infant seat.



He also does something I thought only happened in movies. He cries to be laid down. Then he goes to sleep. Without help. It only happens for the naps that occur early in the day, but still, EGR has never ever done that, to this day. The only time she falls asleep without help is while she's riding.

Prelude to Menopause

At my two week postpartum check up, my doctor gave me one of his prepared speeches about the state of my body. It went something like this.

"Women your age are either pregnant or not pregnant, but really there is a third state after you have a baby that is more like menopause. You'll experience nightsweats, mood swings, etc due to the changes in your hormones.. blah blah blah."

At two weeks postpartum with my second child, it wasn't necessary to tell me I'd experience nightsweats. Holy puddles, they started before I even left the hospital. There is nothing like sitting up in the middle of the night to feed the baby and feeling the pool of sweat between your boobs run downward to be soaked up by your shirt. Nothing like wet hair sticking to your neck so that you have to pull it back in a ponytail. Then, then as you sit out from under the wet sheets that you previously didn't need, you quickly turn into a drippy popsicle in the air conditioning and ceiling fan (both of which you can't live without). I'm constantly sweaty, cold, sweaty, cold until morning. Yeah, no need to tell me I'd experience nightsweats - how about telling me when they will end?!

My Little Waitress

Apparently we eat out a lot because there is a new game in our house. Ella has a little black, flip open note pad that she uses to take our orders in full Waffle House style. It goes like this.

EGR: Mommy, what you have?
Me: Eggs and sausage.
EGR: (pretending to write on her pad) You want milk?
Me: Yes, milk, too. (she writes)
EGR: (flipping her pad closed, smacking it on her thigh, and tapping her foot) That all for you?

I couldn't help but laugh. When she's in the basement, she's a high tech waitress using a Texas Instruments graphing calculator to take our orders. Oh, and don't forget the kids' Coke.

Last night at the supper table, we had some conversation about using our forks correctly - i.e. not raking our food into the floor with them. When said fork disappeared a few minutes later, Dave asked her if she was still using it.
EGR: Yes.
Dave: Where is it?
EGR: I'm just holding it in my toes.
Me: Because toes are a perfectly logical place to hold a fork.

Again, I lost it. We didn't even correct her that time because both of us were laughing too hard.

At bedtime now, I have to tell her to stop talking and that we can talk about XYZ again in the morning. First thing this morning, she restarted her line of questioning about Pop's CPAP machine. She's quite the interrogator. I think she could break down any criminal out there with her persistent questioning on every tiny detail of any subject.

The H. Luke Update
Luke made his acting debut as the baby Jesus in church Sunday morning. He did great; he slept right through until our part was over and then he was ready to eat.

Last week we started him on Zantac for reflux. Saturday night I decided not to give it to him any more because it upsets his stomach so much that he cried more than he did with just the reflux. I think I'll be taking him back to the doctor to talk about this.

We've indoctrinated him into the bath and bedtime routine and now I think he really looks forward to it. I bathe him in the little tub on the bathroom counter while Ella plays in the big tub. He'll sit in the warm water and listen to her until she's finished playing, then he's ready for bed.

My KidS

That's kids with a capital S because now I have more than one. A good friend of mine told me multiple times during my pregnancy that adding the second kid was a major adjustment for him, and a lot more work than having the first one. His kids have about the same age difference between them as mine. I took his warning in with a grain of salt, but I have to say that there are times when I think he's exactly right. And, there are times when I feel like I've found my stride and I'm handling this transisition very well. It depends very much on the quantity and quality of sleep I've had.

I've never tip-toed around the fact that the middle of the night is the most challenging part of motherhood for me. This time is harder, partly because I have two to parent, but mostly because I'd gotten so accustomed to one wake up for less than 20 minutes. I've had to make a big effort to adjust my expectations back to the newborn phase. Luke only wakes up a couple of times, but it takes a whole lot longer to get him back to sleep because we have to go through the whole nurse, burp, poop, change, swaddle, etc. routine each time. It's helped for me to think back to Ella's first few weeks and remember that I did the same things with her and this is normal. I was just less prepared for all of the middle of the night awake time this time around - which seems weird to me since I've done this before. It is doubly challenging when Ella wakes up, too, sometimes more than Luke, sometimes at the same times, sometimes because his crying wakes her, sometimes her crying wakes him - it's enough to make me curse under my breath as I trudge through the house in the dark.

Luke is more receptive to Dave cuddling him to sleep than Ella ever was, so he's been able to tag team with me on nights when it's really rough because they are awake and crying at the same time. Ella doesn't mind me bringing Luke to her bed to nurse while I sit with her until she falls back to sleep, but he sounds like a very noisy piglet while he's nursing so I often wonder how she even falls asleep at all with all that noise. She does, but some nights I have to tamp down my frustration when she keeps sitting up to look at him and my frustration with him at being so loud. (I told you, I'm at my worst in the middle of the night.)

Luckily, Ella is at an age and phase in her life where she seeks Dave out and he is very effective with her. The perfect timing of this is an answered prayer because I've really needed his help with her in the last three weeks. It's been very humbling to admit that there are times when he is more effective at parenting her than me. That's one reason why kids have two parents, I guess, but it's humbling for me anyway. It also makes me love him so much more. It's been cool to see how I've fallen in love with him differently with each kid.

But on days when it's good, it's so good. When I finally had a few hours alone with both kids to figure it out by myself, I felt so validated. I managed, they were both happy at the end of it, and there was peace in our house. I've had a lot of help from my family since I came home from the hospital because I really, really needed it. My recovery has been harder this time; I had a lot more pain and obviously a lot more to handle with a two year old. However, having someone with me all the time seems to negatively affect Ella's adjustment to sharing me. Sharing me with Luke hasn't been a problem, but sharing me with the grandmothers is more than she can handle at times.

Overall, I think she's adjusting well to being a big sister. Her new relationship with Daddy has really helped in times when I can't do what she wants/needs immediately and when she needs some focused play time. She may still choose to wait for me to be available, but Dave is an option now - and often a preference. She eagerly waits for him to come home in the evenings so he can play with her. She understands that all the things I do for Luke are things I did for her when she was a baby and I validate that every time she talks about it. She loves her little brother, and there is nothing sweeter than watching her kiss, cuddle, and talk to him.

He loves her, too. His eyes light up and he seeks her out when he hears her voice, and he is content to sit and watch her for a long time. I know that there will be times when they drive each other nuts, but I'm very happy that they will have each other.

Where are your nipples?

If my precocious two year old happens to ask you this question, please gently remind her that nipples belong under shirts unless they are feeding babies. Because she will ask to see them.

I thought the biggest theme of conversation when we brought Luke home would be about penises, but I was wrong. We've had two nonchalant conversations about testicles that went something like this.

EGR: What's that?
Me: What, poop?
EGR: No, what's that on his bomom (bottom)?
Me: Oh, his testicles. They are part of his boy parts.

Then she moved on. Nursing and nipples is quite a different story. The day he was born, she was in the room when the lactation consultant visited us and helped me get Luke to latch on the first time. As soon as the lady left, Ella started the running dialog about nursing Big Baby from her nipples and pulling up her shirt to show us. Frequently, she asks where our nipples are and wants to see them. Even Georgia's nipples are a point of curiosity. When she started asking people outside of our household, we started explaining that nipples are for feeding babies and when they aren't feeding babies, they belong under our shirts because they are private parts. She gets it, but curiosity gets the best of her sometimes.

I had some worries about her reaction to my nursing Luke because it's not been too long since she was a nursling. The day we came home from the hospital, she asked to nurse and I let her try. She didn't remember how, and my willingness to let her try was enough to satisfy her. Now, she has embraced the fact that babies drink milk and regularly tells me when he cries, "You need to give him milk." Last night, I was sitting in the bathroom floor nursing Luke while she played in the bath tub. It wasn't long before her plastic dolphin toys needed to nurse from her nipples. I just tell her it's great that she nurses her babies because mommy's milk is good for them.

The H. Luke Update
It's been a week since we went to Children's and I think he's finally getting back to normal. We had some really tough days with gas and diaper rash after all the antibiotics they pumped into his little body, but today has been much better. To my satisfaction, I did manage to swaddle him tight enough to calm him and get him to sleep decently last night. This is something I've struggled with since we came home with him because he is so strong. The kid scoots away from me while I'm changing his diaper and clamps his arms down to his sides when I try to change his shirt. It's amazing. He has rolled over one time, completely on accident, but that was before he was a week old. He lifts his head now and looks around for familiar voices. This morning, EGR and I gave him his first cooking lesson. He sat in the high chair with us while we made eggs, sausage and French toast. So far, he's pretty laid back most of the time.

When Tiny Babies Have a Fever

You get sentenced to 48 hours at Children's Hospital with IV antibiotics pumping into a tiny, taped up, flipper hand.

Monday morning Luke seemed a little off, then he went 4 hours without nursing and promptly threw up on me after he did nurse. I took his temperature then and it was normal. A few hours later, it was 100.3 so I called the doctor. They worked us in within the hour. I packed a diaper bag for him and a couple of diapers for Ella, expecting to be told it was a virus and sent home to nurse, nurse, nurse and keep and eye on him until it ran its course.

Imagine my surprise when the doctor (not our regular doctor) told me we needed to go straight to the ER at Children's so he could have the full bloodwork done. It looked like he might have an ear infection, but because of his age (12 days), they couldn't make that assumption without checking for more serious causes - like meningitis and bloodstreem infections. Yikes. He had called ahead and the ER doctor was expecting us.

In a state of shock, with 2 diapers for my two year old who was wearing flip flops that hurt her piggy toes and the crap umbrella stroller I keep in my car for just such occasions, we were on our way downtown. I worked hard to keep my composure while letting my family know and explaining to EGR that we were indeed going back to the hospital because Luke was sick. After I had assured her, that very day, that I didn't have to go back to the hospital.

At 4:30 in the afternoon, they took us right into a room in the ER and that's where I learned that a full work up means: blood work (after squeezing vials of blood from Luke's already pricked and bruised heels), urinanalysis (after a catheter), and a spinal tap. And, oh, by the way, "when we do all of this, we go ahead and admit them for 48 hours to run IV antibiotics while we wait for the blood culture to grow."

I cried with him as they poked and prodded and squeezed out his blood because it's just physically impossible for me to sit there and listen to him cry like that without doing something. I left the room when they did the spinal tap and took that opportunity to tell Ella goodbye. She spent the night with Grandmother so that Dave could go home to pack me a bag and bring it back to me.

The preliminary bloodwork came back negative for any sort of infection, so we knew before we were admitted that it was most likely viral, but they started his IV and sent us to a room to wait for the culture to grow. Overnight, his fever went up to 102.6 and I was so very thankful to already be at the hospital when that happened. At 24 hours, the blood culture was negative but we still had to wait another 24 hours to make absolutley sure there was no bacterial infection. In that time, his fever went up and down and I had to work to get him to nurse. By the 48 hour mark he was much more himself, and the culture was still negative so we were released with the tiny baby dosage for Tylenol and Mylicon (the antibiotics really upset his stomach).

Now we are home, and though he still smells like the medicine they pumped into him, he is doing amazingly better. He ate and slept and woke up normally. He may have only been home for a week, but he knows that home is way better than Children's Hospital. I, myself, was so happy to take a shower and sleep on a bed that I was nearly giddy.

The EGR Update
Dave and I thought that the second night I was at the hospital with Luke would be a good time for Ella to stay home with him and go through the whole supper, bath, bedtime routine without me. We talked and talked to her about it and I'm excited to say it went off without a hitch. Well, only a minor hitch - there were crickets chirping outside her room so she was scared to sleep in there, but she slept the whole night through in bed with Daddy. There was no crying at bedtime. No self-induced vomiting. I'm so proud of both of them. I had a good feeling that if I wasn't physically in the house, she and Dave could work out bedtime without any problems and they did. He was very excited about it, too. They were both glad when we got home yesterday, and when I tucked Ella into bed last night, she didn't even stay awake through her bedtime prayer. She's still a bit worried and asking "What is wrong with 'uke?" but she has generally been a trooper through the mayhem that was the last 2 weeks of our lives.

Thanks to our family and friends that prayed for us; I'm so very grateful.

The Birth Story of Harris Luke

Harris Luke
August 18, 2010 at 12:59 pm
8 pounds 13 ounces
21 inches

My surgery was scheduled for 1:15 pm on the 18th. I was glad about that because it meant one less night that Ella would have to spend away from us, but it also made it hard not to eat or drink anything - especially since Ella was offering me part of her breakfast because I wasn't eating. It also just felt like we spent a lot of time waiting to go to the hospital, and we still got there a little early.

I felt like I was just more with it this time. I don't know if it's because it was my second time, or if I was just that out of it when I had Ella, but I felt more like a participant rather than a spectator. Dave was with me the whole time except when they put in the epidural and the first few minutes in the OR. The nurses were better; I was just more relaxed all the way around.

I told Dave on the way to the hospital that I wished I could have the same anesthesiologist because he did a good job last time and I liked him. Would you believe my wish came true? That was an answered prayer. I knew Dave wouldn't be able to stay with me while he administered the epidural, but that is the part where I really wanted him the most. It just scares the crap out of me. The nurse was great, but my heart was racing and I was trying to control my breathing so I wouldn't panic. It went in fine, and I didn't have any ringing in my ears or headache to indicate a problem. I did start to worry when my right hip really started cramping as the medicine went in, but the doctor assured me that it's normal for one side to start going numb before the other and that's what was happening. The leaned me to left so that the medicine would start numbing that side of my body.

While he was putting the thing in my back, the OB started asking if we could move the surgery up half an hour. Everyone was in agreement and all I could think was, "Will I be numb that fast?" Once I was lying down on in bed, I got really nauseated. I told the nurse and she shot some Zofran in my IV that stopped it almost instantly. Then my vision started turning black and fuzzy around the edges. Before I could say anything, I heard an alarm go off and she was shooting something else into my IV. She said my blood pressure had dropped too low, and that medicine would stabilize it. I asked if that's why I was going blurry and she confirmed. That happened three times before it was stable and they allowed Dave back in the cubicle with me.

Very soon, I was wheeled into the OR, still feeling tingly and able to wiggle my toes. The doctor tested my numbness with a pin and topped off the epidural. It didn't take long before my body was a log from my breasts down. My surgeon came in and joked around with me, and I reminded him that I wanted stitches to close the incision - no staples. He wasn't my regular OB, but I had met him a couple of times when my OB wasn't in the office. Initially, I was worried about not having my doctor, but the other one was really great.

They brought Dave into the room, and the surgery started. It wasn't as quick this time. It felt like they had to wrestle Luke out of me, and the nurse told me to just breathe through it because there was so much pressure in my abdomen and ribs. When he was out, I was instantly able to take the deep breath I'd been missing for weeks. It was wonderful.

His APGARs were 8 and 9, but he had a lot of fluid in his lungs so instead of the screaming we heard with Ella, his cry was more like a puppy barking. They deep suctioned him and cleaned him up while I watched on the Baby Cam and Dave took pictures. They took him back to the recovery room, while I was closed up. I nearly fell asleep on the operating table because it felt so good to be numb in my hips instead of the aching I'd had for weeks. The nurse told me I didn't have to try to stay awake, but I wanted to - I didn't want to miss anything when I got back to the recovery room.

Because of the extra fluid in Luke's lungs, they had to suction him out again in recovery so they had not bathed him yet. I actually got to see his first bath! They checked his sugar and it was great! They gave him to me to hold skin-to-skin and try to nurse. I could not get him to latch on. I was starting to worry and he was kind of fussy. The nurse called it "grunting" and called a NICU nurse to evaluate him. They had me hold him skin-to-skin for the remainder of the hour I was there, and then decided he needed to go to the transition nursery in the NICU for observation because he still had some fluid in his lungs and belly. So, I went to my room on the maternity floor and they took him to the NICU. I told Dave to go with him and hold him if they'd let him.

It was two hours later before I finally saw him again. I was really worrying about nursing him because I know that the sooner you start, the easier it will be. The lactation consultant came to see me while he was in the NICU and I expressed my concerns to her - that it had been so long and I couldn't get him to latch on. She went to check on him, and when she came back she told me he was on the way up and that I needed to take off his t-shirt and tuck him into my gown and hold him for the rest of the day. She said I should not pass him around, just let him rest and try to nurse when he acted like he was ready. I was happy to do just that.

She happened to be there when he started crying, so I tried to latch him on. He finally did, but he would not suck. It took several more times before he got the hang of it, and it was the middle of the night before he really had a good nursing session and fell asleep for a while. I was so relieved. Once he got it, he really got it, and I didn't even have to pump while I was in the hospital.

The next day, we passed him around. He is such a laid back baby so far - content to be held and snuggling in the neck of whoever has him. He's been nursing like a champ and when I took him to the doctor on Monday, he had regained 3 of the 12 ounces he lost in the hospital. He's doing great!

Welcome to the World, Luke!

Today, one week old.

Big sister examining all of his parts.

Right after birth, in the recovery room.

Pod child number 2.

Immediately after birth.

Birth story to follow...

First Day of School

Last night, in a fit of nerves, EGR told me she didn't want to go to "shfool" but this morning she was ready to put on her new clothes and she wanted to eat her lunch for breakfast. We compromised on drinking from the juice cup I had already packed for her. She even LET me fix her hair! I didn't have to wrestle her at all.

When we got there, we had to wait outside for a few minutes for them to unlock the door. She held my hand and studied the other kids running around until we got in the building, then she yanked it away and stood in line to sign in beside me. She walked to her classroom by herself. I squatted beside her and pulled her onto my leg and reminded her that I would be back to pick her up when her class was over, then she just walked into the room to see what some other kids were doing. I told her bye, blew her a kiss, and left. That was it. Easy peasy. I was so proud of her. Grandmother wanted to hang around but I dragged her out because I wasn't planning to wait for her to cry. She did not.

She had just woken up from nap and was reading a book when I got there to pick her up. Her teacher said she had a great day. Twice she started to cry a little, but stopped when she reassured her that I would be there later to pick her up.

She didn't drink much, but I expected that since I sent water and juice instead of milk or Coke. She'll just have to adjust to that. I think she probably ate most of her lunch because she ate breakfast early and did not have a snack before we left. When we passed by the building on the way out of the parking lot she said, "That's my shfool?" I said that it was, and she said, "I want to go in there." I hope this means the Thursday drop off without me will go well.

I can't believe how grown up she looks in these pictures!

One big event down, one more to go this week.

Repeat C

I don't know if it's self-fulfilling prophecy (I hope not) or my strange intuition, but I called it spot on when I said everything would happen the week Ella starts school. Baby Boy will be born next week, Wednesday, the 18th, via repeat c-section.

The next few days will be a blur and I'm desperately trying to process this new information. He will be born 11 days early because they think he's going to be giganto-baby. As I predicted, they estimated his weight yesterday at 9 lbs. - give or take a pound and 5 oz. Magically, he went from measuring 37 weeks on Monday to 40 weeks yesterday, after my doctor heard the estimate. I'm a bit skeptical. My gut still says he's not going to be overly large, but I'm starting to wonder if that's just wishful thinking. We'll know soon enough.

So, am I ready? Am I ready to see this baby? Yes! Yes! Yes! Am I ready for another major abdominal surgery? I'm still working on that part. Regardless of the fact that I've done this before, it still makes me very nervous to be cut wide open, have two people digging around inside me, and then sewn up again. That doesn't even account for the scary epidural needle wielded by a perfect stranger a millimeter from my spinal cord. I need to breathe - deeply and hypnotically.

I was really hoping for a VBAC this time, and I'm finding it brutally ironic and unfair that the child actually has his head low in my pelvis, but I'm not going to be allowed to push him out. I'd be remiss if I didn't say that just sucks. I know, I know, the repeat c-section probably is the safest option for both mother and baby given that he may be huge and I already have an existing uterine scar. I know that our safety is the most important thing. But, I also know this pretty much seals the deal on me ever having the birth I wanted so badly. I will never have the experience of birthing my own baby. And that's something I have to allow myself to mourn.

Eleven days isn't really very early, but with babies of gestational diabetic mothers, every day counts for lung development. It's a bit of a trap between giving him a few extra days in the womb and making sure he's delivered before I go into labor spontaneously, thus we aren't going to make it to 39 weeks. He's still doing great on his non-stress tests, so I think he's going to be fine but a little extra prayer never hurt anyone. Please pray for a smooth, uneventful surgery and recovery and a healthy baby.

While you're at it, can you also say a prayer for EGR? Her next week will be just as much a whirlwind as mine. Tonight we will go to preschool orientation to meet her teacher and see her classroom. Tuesday is her first day of school - in a completely new place with strangers. Ultimately, I think she'll love it, but I'm hoping for a smooth transition into this new environment. Wednesday, we will drop her off at Grandmother's house, where she will be spending three nights and then she'll come to the hospital to meet Baby Boy. Thankfully, she is well aware of and excited about all of these things, but I'm really hoping it's not too much for her in the moment.

Go ahead and include Dave in those prayers, too. While he's extremely relieved to have a scheduled c-section with my doctor and he's much more comfortable with the idea of it than I am at the moment, I know that he will be scared and nervous when they wheel me away into the OR. Plus, he's just going to have a lot to juggle with my recovery, a newborn, and a 2 year old.

The EGR Update
We are alternating between talking about Baby Boy's birth next week and school. She keeps asking me her teacher's name, and I keep telling her we are going to meet her tonight to find out her name and see her class.

I told her last night that Baby Boy will be born next Wednesday. When she woke up this morning, she asked me, "You go to the hospital next week for Baby Boy?" Yes. "You will have a band-aid?" Yes. "Daddy be there with you?" "Yes, and you will come to visit us and meet Baby Boy." While we were getting into the car this morning, she told me that the babies in her tummy have already been born.

She is also reminding us to say the blessing at every meal, and she is finally bowing her head and being quiet while we say it. Last night she served me a refreshing cup of bath water and informed me that we had to say the blessing before I could "drink" it. So we did. In the tub.

I've been telling her the "bear song" at bedtime every night; the one about "Goldi'ocks not picnic." (There is a Teddy Bear Picnic song she sometimes requests.) The second night, when I got to the part where Goldi'ocks eats all of Baby Bear's porridge, she leaned in really close to my face and asked in her concerned voice, "They make some more pordidge?" Yes, of course they do; Mama Bear will not let Baby Bear go hungry. She really likes Daddy Bear's voice, but for some reason he reminds me a little bit of Karl Childers from Sling Blade, umm hmm.

Stick a fork in me...

I'm done. D-O-N-E. Done.

I'm done with: "Oh my God, Amanda's belly is huge!"
And: "There's no way you will make it three more weeks."
And: "Wow, someone's going to have a baby soon!"
And: "Your belly is just going to split open."
And: "Someone is about to burst!"
And: "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?!"
And: "Amanda, I brought donuts and I want to make sure you are the first to get some."
And: "When are you due again?"
And: "Do they know how big the baby is going to be?"
And: "You don't have much longer."
And, my personal favorite from early on: "You do know what causes this, right?"

These are the things I wanted to say in response.

"Yes, I'm growing a human being."
"You do know that the size of my belly does not determine when this baby will be born, right?"
"Really? Who?"
"Hmm, I did watch a made-for-TV movie about a woman who delivered her baby through her belly button."
"Oh no! Should we call an ambulance?"
"Just because I'm pregnant does not mean I can just shovel donuts in my face twice a week."
"Please write it on your calendar: August 29."
"Yes, my doctor uses a combination of x-ray vision and a crystal ball to determine the exact weight of the baby BEFORE he comes out."
"What do you know about how long three weeks is? I'd like to see you walk around in this body for just one."
"Yup, hot monkey sex."

It has been pointed out to me that these people (with the exception of the random strangers) are just excited and anticipating the birth of this baby. I get that. I do. I also get that I'm not fit for the public right now. I've reached that point. The point of exiling myself to my house in a giant t-shirt, under the ceiling fan. I remember reaching the same point when I was pregnant with Ella. I've been carrying this child for 37 weeks; for at least 30 of those weeks, I've been hearing running commentary on my appearance. It's so old. It's even older than my achy right hip and my near constant bathroom trips.

All I need to hear right now is: "Wow, you are a fine/gorgeous/beautiful looking pregnant woman!" Else, the world can just shut up for the next three weeks.

They 'IGHT up! They 'IGHT Up!

Translated: They LIGHT up!

That's what Ella just told me over the telephone about her new flip-flops. She was so excited she didn't take a breath to hear me respond and she just kept saying it over and over again.

Apparently, she had a secret mission for Grandmother today, and that was to find her some flip-flops. She's been wearing mine whenever she can get them, and she's been wearing some too-small ones that will be Baby Boy's one day, but she didn't have any of her own. She set out to rectify that situation today in a mission that scoured four stores in two cities. Lucky she is to have grandparents that indulge her.

I obviously haven't seen them yet, but I hear that in addition to lighting up, they are clear with lady bugs on them, and that she walked in circles trying to watch them once she realized the were lighting up. I can't wait to watch her prance proudly around in them this afternoon. I expect she'll need to wear them with the new skinny jeans she picked out two weeks ago.

Bye-bye princess crocs, hello blingin' flip-flops.

Are my insides burning?

WHAT is this taste in my mouth when I burp? For weeks, when I wake up in the middle of the night and burp it tastes like I've been eating burnt popcorn that has given me indigestion. I have not been eating popcorn, burnt or otherwise, but this taste has been driving me nuts.

I think I just figured out what is causing it. I decided yesterday, as I sat at my desk in the air conditioning and still struggled to breath, that I should start taking my iron supplement in the mornings. I usually take it at bed time, but I also usually drink a glass of milk at bedtime and eat a handful of Tums during the night. Since calcium blocks the absorption of iron, I'm probably not getting much benefit from the iron supplement when taking it this way. So, in an effort catch my breath and feel like I have a little energy (the real kind, not the kind I fake so everyone will leave me alone), I decided to take it in the mornings. Guess what? Fifteen minutes after taking it this morning, the burnt popcorn taste is back and I realized I didn't taste it in the hours I was awake last night. Hmm. Since I've been taking iron for months and I only started the Glyburide last week, it has to be the iron that's causing this nastiness. Unfortunately, knowing the cause doesn't make it any more pleasant.

The EGR Update
The topic of the week has been umbilical cords. We've been studying her newborn pictures and she's asked about the cord, so I explained that the baby gets his food through the cord while he's in my tummy and when he is born he will still have a little bit of cord that will dry up and fall off, and then he'll have a belly button just like hers. She is very enthusiastic about his belly button. I've explained that we won't be able to put him in the baby bathtub until his cord falls off, and that we'll have to clean it, etc. She has really been doing some thinking about this new baby business. Yesterday morning, she got out of bed and came to find me in my bathroom. She proudly announced, "I'm a big sister!"
Me: "Yes, you are."
EGR: "Baby boy will be born! We will hold him! Bathe him! He will have a cord?"
Me: "Yes, and his cord will fall off and then he'll have a belly button like yours."
EGR: "Yeah!"
Similar exchanges have taken place over the last few days and always lead to a few minutes of comparing belly buttons.

She has a lovely cold right now, so we were up and down a few times last night while she tried to breathe. At 3:30, she came to our bed and after I finally got us settled with everything we needed (milk cup, nose sucker, smelly vapor plug-in thingy, dry diaper, etc), and I got comfortable again with all my pillows, Baby Boy stretched his little self out and started doing flips. As she was cuddled right up to my belly, she quickly informed me, "Baby Boy is movin'." To which I replied, "Yes, I know, Sweet Pea, he always wakes up when you do." I foresee lots of sibling bonding time in the wee morning hours in our future. The question is, who will wake up who?

Glyburide, You are a Friend of Mine...

Even if you do scare me awake in the middle of the night with wicked heartburn and acid reflux. I'll take that in exchange for the ability to eat a freakin' noodle again. Bye bye chicken fingers for breakfast, hello oatmeal with Splenda! Maybe even bran flakes... I feel like the possibilities are endless.

I saw my perinatologist yesterday, and I liked him very much. Some things he said were disconcerting (i.e. "You are 100% guaranteed to have Type 2 diabetes, but you are 100% in control of deciding when you will develop it"), others made me feel much better. He explained that Baby Boy likes my high sugar levels and wants them to stay that way, so the hormones that are protecting him are making them stay high no matter what I do. Nothing I do on my own will bring them down, thus he prescribed Glyburide. It's supposed to increase my insulin production and help my body use it more efficiently. After one dose of it, my numbers were about 40 points lower than they have been in weeks. It's such a relief. Why didn't we do this weeks ago?

For the next three weeks, I'll be going to the doctor twice a week for non-stress tests because they want to monitor Baby Boy more closely as he gets bigger. Two weeks from now, I'll have an ultrasound to estimate his weight. I am not at all thrilled about that because of the level of inaccuracy, but he'll be about 38 weeks at that point so I'm not going to argue. They'll probably tell me he weighs 9 lbs and he'll come out weighing 7. Whatever.

Speaking of non-stress tests, we had our second one yesterday. That child was all over the place. The nurse yelled from across the room, "I don't have to worry about you, I can hear him moving all over the room!" It's the truth. She kept moving the monitor to find his heartbeat again because he kept rolling away from it. So this week, he still looks great and we'll have the same fun again on Monday. Then Thursday. Then Monday again, rinse and repeat.

The EGR Update
She did it. She spent the night away from home last night. She wasn't ready to leave Grandmother's house after supper, so we went through the whole deal again about how I would be sleeping at our house, etc. She decided to stay, and she slept all night. When I talked to her this morning, the first thing she said was, "Mommy, come pick me up." I'm very proud of her, and I feel a little better about the whole hospital stay now. Still worried about the amount of time away, but better. Dave told me last night as he wandered around the house, "I don't like it when Ella's not here." I don't either, but I'm excited for her making that step on her own.

A Pregnant Caterpillar - Is there such a thing?

Oh, yes, there is and she lives in my house.

A bit of background: We have a cocoon in one of the trees in our yard, so we've been watching it and talking about the caterpillars that live in it and how they turn into butterflies, etc. We've also been making preparations for Baby Boy's arrival, including the cleaning out of the ball pit - I mean baby bed - last weekend. EGR was jumping in it Saturday, sans balls, and having a chat with Daddy about the fact that Baby Boy would be able to sleep in there and that she slept in there when she was a tiny baby. Then I overheard this bit.

Daddy: What are you now? (I assume he was expecting " 'ittle girl" as the answer; I was.)
EGR: A caterpillar.
Daddy: You are a caterpillar?
EGR: Yes, and I have two baby boys in my tummy.
Daddy: You do? When are you going to turn into a butterfly?
EGR: Four minutes.

She has also informed me, after a first but unsuccessful attempt to spend the night with Grandma and Pop last weekend, that Grandmother will bring her cot to the hospital when Baby Boy is born so we can sleep "all-gether." She's a bit nervous about the staying away from me part of this Baby Boy deal. I can't blame her; I'm nervous about it, too. She has spent one night away, and it was a quite a while ago. I was shocked when she asked to stay with Grandma and Pop the other night, but willing to give it a try. It was an hour later, after she announced that she was ready for bed, that I got the call from Grandma. Once she does make that leap, I'm afraid I might have the opposite problem - she won't want to stay home. Good grief, I will miss her while I'm in the hospital those few days. She spent several hours with Grandmother after church Sunday so I could get some much-needed down time, and Dave and I both were antsy to see her by the time she came home.

The latest thing she does that baffles me, aside from the fact that she's growing twin boys in her tummy, is wake up from a deep, peaceful sleep in a full meltdown. Over what, you ask? Her cup. She goes from sleep to full trantrum over what kind of cup she is going to drink out of that day. Is she dreaming about cups? I don't know, but I know that I can't talk to her, I can't touch her, and she thrashes and throws herself about with giant tears dripping from her face until I realize in my own early morning fog, "Oh, yeah, she needs to pick out her cup." Once the cup is selected and freshly filled with milk, all is right in the world. This has happened three times in the last week. I can't pretend to understand it. It's one of those things that my friends with similar aged kids and I explain like this: Because she's two.

The world of a two year old is an interesting place. She is desperately torn between being her own independent person and doing everything herself in a world where she has very little control, and being the little baby she used to be. In rapid succession, she goes from climbing into the booster seat, strapping herself in, eating with a fork and wiping her own hands and face to needing to sit in my lap while I feed her. I know that a lot of this is about growing up and establishing her autonomy and the rest of it is about her uncertainty of her place when there is a new baby in the house. I'm just trying to be flexible and keep up. The comment I keep hearing lately is that she's too young to understand about the new baby; I'm here to tell you, she does. She doesn't understand the full scope of the change in her life, but she knows it's coming, she knows it will be big, and she knows it's because of Baby Boy. I've been very careful not to use Baby Boy as a reason for why I can't do some things the way I could before, but she's made the connection on numerous occasions.

She is so ready to meet him. We talk almost daily now about going to the hospital for him to be born. We read books about new babies, and we study the hospital pictures from her birth. We've talked about everything from the umbilical cord to the IV in my hand to the way she nursed when she was just born. I'm grateful now that she's had her own hospital experience so it will (hopefully) be less intimidating for her to see me in the hospital. She seems to be preparing herself as much as I am preparing her.

Feeling a Bit Encouraged

First let me ask WHY you would offer online pre-registration to the hospital if you are only going to make me complete the exact same form again when I get to the hospital to sign my paperwork? I spent 45 minutes in pre-admitting (making me late for my non-stress test) because I had to fill out the same form again and the poor lady working at the desk seriously struggled with her data entry skills. That combined with the fact that is was about 80 degrees in the office and my feet were sweating in my flip-flops did not make me a happy camper. The last time she told me to take a seat because she had to calculate my estimated payment and her program wasn't open on her computer, I nearly lost it. I informed her that my appointment happened to be 10 minutes ago and I wasn't moving from the counter until she was finished with me. I think I was also panting and fanning myself at that point; she took me seriously and figured out a way to make the process faster. I later found out that Brookwood has seriously screwed up their Admitting department - so plan to spend the afternoon if you have to pre-register there any time soon.

Luckily, the nurse overseeing my non-stress test was expecting me to be late because she knew I had to go through Admitting first, and she had no problem expressing her own frustration with the new "process." I hauled myself up onto the stretcher and she hooked me up to the monitors and brought me a cold Diet Sprite (bless her soul). She explained the whole deal - monitoring my blood pressure, baby's heartrate, my contractions, and that we were trying to see Baby Boy's heart rate accelerate 15 beats above the baseline twice in 20 minutes. He passed with flying colors. At one point, he moved so hard I expected the monitor to pop off my belly. I was afraid he would be napping during the test since he played all morning, but the cold Sprite woke him up. Everything else looked good, too. The nurse said, "The doctor is going to be happy with your strip (the print out of all this activity)." To which I responded, "Good, because he's not going to be happy with my sugar numbers."

He wasn't, but because I was proactive and had already been logging every thing I've eaten in three weeks, he also knew that I've been trying to do the best I can and I have what seems like very little control over this. According to him, the numbers aren't outrageous, but they are still trending upward. He asked if I thought seeing a dietician would help and I felt like bursting into happy tears as I said, "Yes! How much more salad and chicken can I eat?!" So, he's doing one better than that; he's referring me to a perinatologist who has developed a strong program for managing gestational diabetes. He'll be able to help me with meal planning along with the timing of when I eat what/how much (like 30 grams of carbs for breakfast, etc) and when to test my sugar to get the most accurate perspective of what's going on in my body. I'm excited about this. As much as I've tried to educate myself, I really need someone to help me troubleshoot my diet to get my numbers where they need to be. With Ella, simply following the sample diet my OB gave me was enough. This time, that was blown out of the water after the second week. I felt so much better leaving there yesterday than I did last week. Now, I'm just waiting on the perinatologist to call and set up an appointment with me.

The EGR Update
She now has two baby boys growing in her tummy and they are going to "get born" so she can "cuddle them, snuggle them, play with them" (I wish you could hear it in her list-making voice). I've told her we might have too many baby boys running around if they keep multiplying in her tummy. It makes me think of Gremlins. I hope they don't multiply in water because I know she's going to bathe them, too.

For supper last night we had ham, cabbage, squash, and green beans. Grandmother asked me if she eats cabbage and I told her just to put it on the plate and we'd see what happened. Ella promptly pointed to it and asked, "What's that?"
"Cabbage."
"I don't 'ike cabbage."
"That's fine, you don't have to eat it."
Ten minutes later, the cabbage hole was empty. Then the ham, green beans, and most of the squash disappeared. She loves her vegetables, but she also had to be starving because she'd been living off of milkshakes and biscuits for two days since her mouth hurt too much to eat. She has two nicely swollen spots on her bottom gums, but still no molars.

My Pregnancy Lists

Now that I'm facing weekly appointments and we are getting the house stocked with tiny diapers again, I've come to the point in this pregnancy where I'm both anxious to meet this baby and I feel like I need to freeze time so I can preserve the last few days with Ella as an only child. It occurred to me last night, as I cuddled her to sleep, that life as she knows it is about to change forever. That makes me a little sad for her, but I also know how excited she is about seeing Baby Boy.

I don't worry about loving one or the other of them more, because there's not a doubt in my mind that I will love them both as the individuals they are, but I do worry about having enough time and energy to meet their individual needs. I fully expect raising a boy to be a different experience because boys are just made differently. I'm excited about that new adventure, but I also wonder how I'll juggle life with two young children.

As I've struggled with feeling ready for this pregnancy to be over and trying to enjoy the last few weeks through the stress of Gestational Diabetes, I made some lists. It's what I do. :)

Things I Will Not Miss
1. Needing to pee every time I stand up. I wonder how much toilet paper I use while I'm pregnant?
2. Hearing "Wow, you must be due any day" and "You'll never make it to August" and variations of the same. Yes, I know I'm gargantuan.
3. Heat rash.
4. The constant worry, guilt, and analysis of everything I eat or think about eating.
5. Splenda.

Things I will Miss
1. Feeling the baby move and random parts sticking out.
2. Having elevators held for me as I trudge across hot parking decks.
3. Elastic waist pants.
4. Not having to maintain the litter box.
5. Watching Ella cuddle and talk to my belly and feed the baby through my belly button.

Things I'm Looking Forward To
1. Moving from sitting to standing without feeling like my body is tearing in half at the hips.
2. Rolling over in bed wihtout lying there wondering if it's worth the effort first.
3. Wearing my fire engine red, patent leather high heels.
4. Bending over without squishing the air out of my lungs.
5. Cuddling Ella without this huge bump in my middle.
6. Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
7. The tiny newborn phase.
8. Ella meeting Baby Boy.
9. Nursing and baby wearing again.
10. Watching Dave with a son, and my dad with a grandson.

Still No Teeth

Last week was rough, what with one child gestating, one child teething, VBS, blood sugar issues, and bedtime pushed at least an hour late every night. Whew! VBS is always a blast, but I'm glad to be back to normal. No new teeth, though. I'm sure they'll pop through the week of August 17th - which incidentally is also the week she starts preschool and will probably be the week Baby Boy chooses to make his arrival - just because my life works that way.

By Friday night, EGR and I both had about had it with the crazy schedule, and we were so glad to fall into bed and sleep until 8 Saturday morning. We had a leisurely morning with breakfast at Chick-fil-a, then we shopped at Target (because the new NCAA football video game has been released and EGR picked out a cute puppy dog lunch box for school), then Books-A-Million (because Mommy deserves a prize due to the release of said video game), and Pugits (Publix). Then we spent a couple of hours alternating between cuddling and reading, and playing while I read and waited for her to wind down for a nap. Saturday night was our first baby sprinkle for Baby Boy, and there was no way I was letting Ella skip her nap. She desperately needed to catch up on rest.

Our sprinkle was fun, even if most of the scheduled events were rained out. We did still have water balloon batting practice - which I loved. My goofy husband said he wasn't going in the rain to get wet hitting water balloons, but he changed his mind after I took my turn. Who doesn't love to play in the rain? We got loads of diapers, wipes, baby wash and lotion AND I managed to find a place to put all of it! In classic EGR style, she played in the rain until she couldn't stand her clothes any longer so she stripped naked. Then she sported Aunt Becca's t-shirt and tennis shoes the rest of the night. She had a blast opening presents for Baby Boy, and a few for herself. We saw a tiny baby at church Friday night, and we was completely in awe of him. I think she's really ready for Baby Boy to be born.

My relationship with food has gotten even more interesting than it's always been. Controlling my blood sugar has been more challenging this time around; my doctor cites my age as a reason (because 2 years older is still 2 years older) and I also think my chaotic schedule has a lot to do with it. Two Fridays ago the nurse told me to cut out all breads/rice/pasta etc., and that worked but good grief it's hard to follow that diet. It's hard to think of things to eat, it's hard to eat on the run, and it makes me feel bad physically. After my appointment last Thursday, during which my doctor told me my numbers aren't runing high enough to justify medicating me so I had to keep following the diet, I gave up and ate a lamb gyro for lunch on Friday. That was the best I felt all week. I've certainly not forgone the diet all together, but I decided to be a little easier on myself because I know stress and exhaustion makes the numbers higher. Proof of that is that regardless of how badly I ate over the weekend because of the party and a family dinner (lasagna, garlic bread, and brownie trifle), my fasting numbers have been okay for the last few days. Besides, chicken fingers and Diet Dr. Pepper for breakfast isn't half bad - just don't make me eat eggs.

I have to start going to the doctor weekly from now until B-Day, and I'll be having non-stress tests again, just like I did with Ella. While it's inconvenient to spend half a day at the doctor's office, I'm kind of glad he decided to go ahead and start the weekly appointments. I want to be in closer contact with him about my sugar, and lying on a cot, listening to the baby's heartbeat for half an hour isn't a bad way to spend an afternoon. I think I will remember to bring my book this time around, though, because afternoon TV is BORING. Oh, because everyone asks: non-stress tests measure contractions, the baby's heartrate in response to them, and the number of times he moves in the 30-40 minutes. Also because everyone asks (and because I just look more pregnant than I am when I'm growing another human), the baby is still measuring right on time and the doctor has not predicted a weight. If you just need a prediction of his size, my gut tells me he will be long and thin; I think he'll weigh less than Ella did (7 lbs. 13 oz).

By the way, this time my Welcome Baby celebration meal should consist of a Chick-fil-a chocolate milkshake, a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and a slab of chocolate on chocolate cake. Someone make note.

Wild Animal or Hungry Toddler? Is there a difference?

Last night was the first night of VBS (that's Bible School, in case you don't know). EGR is attending the preschool class this week, regardless of the fact that she's only 2. I've had a few worries about her readiness, but mostly I think it's something she will enjoy. I sold it hard over the weekend and she even assisted me in putting together the first night's snack, insisting that we sing Jesus Loves Me while we worked for God.

She was so very excited to have her own VBS t-shirt, just like Mommy and Daddy's - so excited that she accepted no less than I strip down in the middle of the kitchen and put mine on while she watched to make sure it got done. She was so cute in her t-shirt and ponytail (a rarity these days), marching in line with the other preschoolers to the opening rally. She made it half way through the night before she melted down because she had come to snack time and didn't want to leave me to go back to class. I retrieved her and convinced her to watch the movie while I stayed with her, but she just wasn't going to finish the night without me, so I took her back to the kitchen. My thinking was that I didn't want her to be so traumatized that she didn't want to go back. We are in it for a week, that I think she'll enjoy, and that, frankly, I don't want to spend with a toddler glued to my leg while I assemble and serve snack every night. We met up with her class again at the end of the night for the last song, and she was much more composed at that point.

When we got home, my sweet little girl played Bible School with her baby until I thought I might have to pull a Good Fairy move and Bop! her on the head to get her to go to sleep. The baby had it's Bible and bag, and she went to Ms. Amy's (that's Amory) class. As she started winding down, she began naming off her teachers and the kids in her class and we had to pray for every one of them (more than once); then we had to pray for the "other kids" whose names she couldn't remember. She kept asking me their names and I told her she would have to learn them tonight and tell me, because I don't know all of them (side note: there were 14 - FOURTEEN!- preschoolers there last night - Ms. Amory is a patient soul). Alas, she fell asleep.

She woke up after 3:30 and then again many times crying about snack. I considered that she was hungry, but she didn't seem awake enough to actually eat, so I didn't get up to get a snack. She just kept screaming for 'ogurt bites, and "open my snack!", etc. I chalked it up to sensory overload after VBS and a late bed time.

Fast forward a couple of hours to wake up time. Holy cow, I've never seen her act the way she did this morning. She was not the sweet 2 year old I put to bed last night. Oh no, caged porcupine is a more accurate description. I couldn't even get near the child as she alternated between cowering into the headboard of the bed and lashing out with limbs and snarling teeth, all while giant tears ran down her face. She didn't want her clothes on and other garbled things I couldn't understand through all the racket. When I finally got her to calm down enough to hear me, I asked her what hurt (that's the only explanation I could think of for her behavior). She said, pitifully, "My teeth! My teeth! I need teething tablets!" Whew! Finally, something I could work with.

For the first time ever, I sent my child to Grandmother's house in her night shirt. She did have a clean diaper, but that was all we could do this morning. She settled for a milk cup, 'ogurt bites, and the promise of Motrin and teething tablets as soon as we got there. When I left her, she was all "Bye Mommy, 'ove you!" like she had not just tried to maul me moments earlier.

It turns out - she was hungry. Very hungry. I've known that she can go from happy to empty in 60 seconds, and I've known that hunger is one of her triggers for tantrums, but I've never seen what I saw this morning. Reports from Grandmother tell me that by noonish today, she had eaten a breakfast burrito and hashbrown from McDonald's (at her request), eggs and sausage after her short nap, and rice, beans, chips and cheese directly after her 2nd meal. And, she ate ravenously, like she hadn't been fed at all.

I'm thinking she might have a growth spurt, and I really hope there will be 4 shiny new molars with it. But what I know is this - we will be packing the food into that child until she stops eating it. I'm only hoping she'll make it through VBS tonight on the snack provided. I'm hoping she'll make it through VBS tonight without a melt down since she has a better idea of what to expect and there will be a slight change in the snack schedule so that she doesn't see me until it's over.

At this point, because I've been awake since 3:30 am, I'm hoping I make it through VBS tonight without a melt down.