How to end a hunger strike

Dear Jacob,

You're almost 16 months old. Most kids your age like cheese cubes, and fish sticks, and cheerios, and fruit. I know. I've had two kids your age at my table before, and I've talked to some other moms. While it's not an ideal diet, we can all agree that it is a fairly normal diet for your age group.

But you? You defy logic and reason. You love falafel and lamb and tomatoes and the occasional chicken nugget. You like peanut butter on a spoon, but not on a cracker. You'll eat a whole apple, but not a sliced one. You like black beans and rice, but only if they haven't touched cheese or meat. You'll eat pork barbecue, but you won't go near a chicken breast. 

So Jacob, I'm officially throwing in the towel. If this hunger strike is going to end, it's going to be on your terms, when you're ready. Until then, I'm going to continue to cook what I want to cook and hope you get hungry enough to eat it.

Tonight, for reasons I'll never understand, Pad Thai and mint chocolate chip ice cream were on your approved list. 

Whenever you're ready to start eating like a normal toddler, just let me know.

Sincerely,

Your mom

Happy and they know it

Bring it on, Spring. We're totally ready for you.

It's not even March yet, so I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but it's hard not to bid farewell to the winter doldrums when it's been sunny and warm outside most afternoons for quite a few days. Mid afternoon is a little cooler (and by cooler, I mean 63 degrees), so we eat lunch on the porch, out of the wind.

These kids couldn't be happier to be outside making messes in the backyard again. We've moved rocks, outlined a flower bed, further uncovered what used to be a koi pond, and relocated 36 worms from one side of the yard to the other more muddy side. And that was just this morning.

I love a day that requires a mid-afternoon bath. That's always a good sign around here.

When mom's away...

...the kids will play. 

All seven of them. 

While my roomie and I were living it up at our church women's retreat, our hubbies were busy planning and executing a morning of fun that kicked off with feeding breakfast to seven children under the age of six, included a very chilly hike through the woods and the creek, and culminated with bologna sandwiches and naptime. 

Maybe the dads were thinking that with the moms gone, there was safety in numbers. But seven kids to two adults? I just thought they were nuts. 

But then again, maybe after all that time we've spent taking this rowdy bunch on field trips and mudfests, we moms just make it look easy. 

The patriarch of the Wilson clan sent us this picture at 9 a.m. on Saturday morning. The boys' mom and I glanced at it, and admired that no one in the picture was still in their pajamas. (This is more than either of us could say for 9 a.m. on most mornings.) We were impressed, to say the least. Later I noticed that the kids all had fruit on their plates, and there was a warm pot of grits on the table. 

Perhaps I should go away for the weekend more often.

Waitin' on Sprout: Severely outnumbered

Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from him.

--Psalm 127:3

I've hung out with my fair share of moms with three boys, and I've seen how they wear that badge with pride.

Today, I join their ranks.

We're halfway through our journey to meet the newest little fish, and today's ultrasound revealed that we will be meeting our third son this summer. We greeted our kids with a big bag of blue balloons to share the news. Once the excitement of a bag of new balloons wore off, we were able to more accurately gauge their reactions.

Jacob is completely ambivalent about the idea of a little brother, as one might expect. (He is, however, thrilled with the idea of more balloons.)

Caleb is so excited he can barely contain himself. After the mayhem of the big balloon reveal settled down, he ran to me, bear hugged my legs, and in true Caleb fashion, looked up at me and said "Thank you for my new little brother Mommy!"

Abby is still working through what this new information means for her. She has prayed pretty heartily for more than two years now for a little sister, and she was a little surprised that the answer was no. But more recently, she has prayed nightly for the health of this new baby, and that God would protect her new sibling as it grows in Mommy's belly.

We were delighted to tell her today that all signs point to God answering that prayer. The ultrasound looked great, the baby measured right on track for his July 12 due date, and all development seems healthy and normal. He was a pretty relaxed little guy, and required a little poking and prodding from the technician in order to get his hands and feet out from in front of his face so she could get a good picture of him. He may have been sleeping, and was definitely sucking his thumb for the majority of the time we were able to look at him. He was not shy, and within about a second of confirming that yes, we did want to know if it was a boy or a girl, the first view we got of him provided a very clear answer to that question. 

I am severely outnumbered now. And I am very, very blessed.

Praise God for today's good reports! We look forward with joy to meeting our son in July!

A monstrous meal

Remember when I threatened to put vegetables in their smoothies? I meant it.

With my efforts at getting my picky, strong-willed 15-month-old to eat consistently nutritious meals failing miserably, I reached out to a friend for help. And she introduced us to the Green Monster.

I had my doubts (you would to, if you found yourself dumping spinach and yogurt into a blender and preparing to serve it to the 4-and-under crowd), but the Green Monster smoothies were a huge hit with all three kiddos. Jacob drank three cupfuls, which I'm sure I'll pay for later when all that spinach works its way through his digestive tract. I'm afraid his little body might go into shock with all the vegetables and nutrients coursing through him right now.

Abby and Caleb thought the name was hilarious, and insisted on showing me their terrible claws and gnashing their terrible teeth the whole time they were drinking their Green Monsters. The kids were totally full after polishing off their smoothies, and I realized that they didn't need lunch, seeing as how this drink is basically an entire liquid meal.

We made a few minor adjustments to the original recipe, so here's our version of the Green Monster.

Green Monster Smoothie
(makes 4-6 servings)


2 frozen bananas (peel them before you freeze them)
3 cups frozen chopped spinach
1 tablespoon peanut butter
1-2 cups vanilla yogurt (we used the whole milk yogurt)
1 cup coconut milk (original recipe called for almond milk, but coconut milk is fattier)


Optional ingredients:
a handful of blueberries (not too many, or it becomes a purple monster)
a few pieces of frozen rhubarb (not sure why...it just looked healthy)
a handful of cooked baby carrots


Place all ingredients in blender and mix. If you're using a lot of frozen ingredients, there's no need to add ice.

Enjoy!

Dry thumbs

Oh that? That's her celebratory breakfast.

You stop sucking your thumb, and we'll take you out for muffins and hot chocolate too.

We've tried everything to get Abby to stop sucking her thumb. That bitter nail polish? She licked it off. Treats and rewards? She's not concerned with impressing us. Nope, this kid does what she wants. And for more than four years now, she's wanted to suck her thumb at bedtime and naptime, so that's what she's done.

Until the dentist suggested that she might want to consider stopping so she didn't change the shape of her pretty smile. That sounded like a good idea to her, so she came home and informed us she would no longer be sucking her thumb. Just like that.

I'll be honest. I didn't think she could do it. She's been sucking this thumb since before she was born (we have ultrasound pictures to prove it). No one just breaks a bad habit like that. But somehow she mustered up all the will power she had (the same will power she's been using to fight our efforts to get her to stop before) and she did it.

So we treated her to breakfast to congratulate her on her newest Big Girl feat. We love any excuse to celebrate around here.

Selective hearing

I'm learning a lot about three-year-old boys. Namely, that mine has a major hearing problem. 

It's not so much that he can't hear me. It's just that what he hears is often very different from what I actually said.

This morning, I sent him outside to play.

What I said: "Go have fun!"
What he heard: "Go get as filthy as possible!"

I noticed after a few minutes that the mud my children had chosen to have fun in was making them fairly wet fairly quickly. It was a nice day, but not so warm that you want to be soaking wet while you're trying to enjoy it.

What I said: "Why don't you drive your car around?"
What Caleb heard: "Why don't you paint your car with a thick layer of mud, using pine branches and your bare hands?"

This problem springs up fairly often, but at times it has its benefits. Sometimes it serves to help us bond with our neighbors when our kids play together. Just this week, Caleb was playing with the sandbox in the neighbor's driveway while the adults chatted and the big kids whizzed by on roller blades. I had reminded him before we headed out the door of a few key things that are important for a three-year-old to remember whenever we go outside to play.

What I said: "If you need to go potty, go potty. Don't get so busy playing that you have an accident."
What Caleb heard: "If you need to go potty, it's okay to pull your pants down in the neighbor's driveway and pee on their kids' sand. Daddy will clean it up."

It seems I still have a lot to learn.

Don't fall in

What's the best thing about having season passes to the aquarium?

We can totally waste as much time as we want trying to pet those speedy little bonnet head sharks, every single time we go.

Special thanks to my friend Mandy for helping me wrangle all our kids, and for helping Caleb dangle dangerously over the edge of the shark pool so he could touch one.

Next time I'll remember to be a little more careful when Jacob's riding in the baby carrier on my back, and perhaps he won't pluck a sea urchin out of the water and fling it across the touch pool.

In memory of Pole

I was not willing to be the bearer of bad news. In all honesty, I wanted to lie to my four-year-old rather than make her face the harsh reality of life and death. But her dad was right (again) and in the end, it was best that she be told exactly what happened to her tiny tadpole.

He didn't make it.

I didn't think I would either, after seeing her reaction to the news.

I knew she would cry real tears, and I knew she would be devastated. I didn't know how big those real tears would be, or how she would collapse into her daddy's arms and sob and sob over the loss of her baby frog. No situation has yet, in her few short years, prompted such a heartfelt and fully heartbroken reaction. They talked through it, and her dad explained how Pole just didn't eat enough to stay alive, and how he got sick and passed away. Abby was so very sad.

The next morning, she told me that, because her tadpole had died, she simply could not be happy. I let her know how absolutely okay it was to be sad, and to mourn the loss of her little pet. But I also reminded her that her joy does not come from her circumstances, but from God himself, and he was never going to leave her. She seemed okay with that. I told her God is sovereign, and that means he's in control of her life, even the loss of her tadpole. This didn't do much to cheer her up, but it did give her something else to focus on for a while, a truth to ponder while she dealt with her loss.

It was not a teaching moment I wanted, but it's one I'm glad we had.

Tad, our other soon-to-be frog, is still thriving, and Abby loves watching his development, each day bringing him one step closer to losing the tail, growing arms and becoming a frog. She enjoys seeing him use his new legs to swim around in his home, but she's worried he'll be lonely now without Pole in there with him.

We scooted him up real close to the fish bowl so he can peak in on our Betta fish, Lucy, and Abby feels better knowing Tad has a friend nearby. Lucy is not thrilled with this set up.

When Tad matures into a frog, Abby is looking forward to releasing him into the wild so that he can play in our creek with the other frogs. Or she might take him to her friend Hannah's house. She's heard Hannah has lots of frogs around her pool in the summertime. I told Abby she has a while to decide.

Lucy, it seems, is a permanent member of the family. She's died twice now, and each time comes back slightly larger, or a slightly different color. I think when Lucy 3.0 dies, it might be time to tell the kids the truth.

I think I'll let Justin do it.

Teacher's pet

Dressed and ready for school by the time breakfast is cleaned up?

Check.

Proper lefty grip when we're working on our letters?

Check.

Completing assignments before moving on to the next activity?

Check.

Caleb totally has this teacher's pet thing mastered. And we haven't even really started preschool yet.

Even when we move on to a less Caleb-friendly activity (cutting with real scissors, for instance) he's perfectly content to offer whatever form of help he can come up with, then watch Abby as she meticulously works through her studies.

On this particular day, he choose to draw "shapes" for her to cut out.

Bless her heart. She couldn't bear to tell him that "squiggly lines going everywhere" is not a shape. She thanked him, and did her best to cut out exactly what he handed her.

These kids make great classmates.

Worker bee

Apparently, I wasn't moving fast enough.

So to help me speed things up and get lunch to the table more quickly, Jacob unloaded the entire contents of my tupperware cabinet, found his lunch box and the lunch boxes of his siblings, and set the table for me. Then he added a few extra plastic cups, just for good measure. One of these days I'll break it to him that the lunch boxes are useless unless someone packs them first.

When he had completed whatever it was he was trying to accomplish, he whined at my feet for a few minutes to no avail, then set out to get his chair positioned at the table.

For a kid that won't eat, he sure does have some pretty specific ideas about lunchtime.

If at first you don't succeed...

Jacob was unhappy, and Abby knew just how to make things better.

"Jacob loves bubbles!" she declared. "Can I blow my new bubbles for him?"

She's such a sweet girl. She hates to see anyone sad, and will do almost anything to make them happy. And I wanted desperately to let her fix this situation. But she's also a perfectionist, and little can cause more distress for her than failing at something. And to date, she's never been able to figure out how to make that little bubble wand work.

If she succeeded, I'd have two happy kids on my hands. If she failed, I'd still have a screaming baby, and would have to spend the next half hour helping a crying four-year-old work through her disappointment.

I said nothing. She saw through my silence.

"I can do it, Mommy! I really, really want to blow bubbles and make Jacob laugh, and I really can do it!" Her confidence won me over. I gave my consent, handed over the bubbles, and sent her outside. I positioned Jacob by the front door so he could watch, and I waited. I prayed God would grant her the success she so desired.

She huffed and she puffed. Suds dripped from the bubble wand and down her arm. Soapy liquid spewed everywhere with each blow. I braced for the worst.

And then it happened. She blew one awesome bubble. It detached from the bubble wand, and the wind carried it up and away. She smiled, first at the bubble, then at me. My heart swelled with joy for her. She kept going, and more bubbles filled the air.

And then, in a moment that reminded me she's totally my daughter, she took a break from the bubbles and looked me straight in the eye.

"See Mom," she said, "I told you so."

I'm so glad you did, Abby.

Vicious cycle

Laundry Day is a thrice weekly event around here.

And three times a week, every week, I am still surprised by the amount of laundry our family of five can produce in often as few as two days. Two of us are half my size. One of us only comes up to my knees. And still, the piles of laundry teeter as they balance atop the ironing board, waiting to be moved to their temporary home in someone's closet before finding their way back here again.

I've given up ever being done. Just when I think I'm finished washing, drying, folding and putting away, somebody goes and gets dressed again.

My mission

Operation You'll-Eat-What-I-Put-In-Front-Of-You kicked off this week.

Reports from the front lines are not good.

Jacob did, in fact, eat exactly what I put in front of him. Beginning and ending with that lone strawberry. And he was very careful to not so much as touch any of the other food on his plate. Once, a chunk of strawberry had the audacity to roll into a slice of honey ham as he reached to pick it up. He wouldn't touch it again until I moved the ham to the opposite side of the plate.

He's plenty hungry. He screams, pouts and whimpers as he follows me around the kitchen during meal preparations. He can polish off a sippy cup of milk in record time. Oh, and olives or Oreos? He always has room in his tummy for olives or Oreos. If they made a vegetable Oreo, I'd buy it in a heartbeat.

We've been to doctors. We've followed all the good advice. What we're left with is a very, very picky eater. A result, I'm afraid, of having existed on a steady diet of fish sticks, chicken nuggets and fruit during those months when he was failing to gain weight and would eat nothing else. When your baby isn't gaining weight, and there's one food they like, you feed it to them all the time. We were desperate, we were worried, and he needed the calories. Never mind if sometimes his caloric intake came entirely in the form of sugar cookies and fruit smoothies. He was eating! We rejoiced!

But when your 15-month-old won't eat, and picks and chooses what he likes from day to day, it's time to put your foot down. And I have. Firmly. No longer will I make a separate meal for this kid. In the long run, the best thing for him will be to learn to eat what is served to him.

So I will deny him dessert, I will offer him his vegetables first, and I will continue to put good foods (foods he's liked in the past!) on his plate until he learns to eat them again. He's not getting a chicken nugget just because he decides not to eat my chicken pot pie one night. He loves my chicken pot pie. Gobbled it up the first three times we served it. And he will learn to like cheese once more. What kid doesn't eat cheese?

And if he doesn't turn a corner soon, I'm going to have to start sneaking vegetables into my smoothies again.

Listen to your mother

Caleb named it the "Do-Do-Do" truck. It plays Old MacDonald when you drive it around, but in that annoying way that only kids' toys can, with a series of electronic beeps that sound like, well, "do-do-do-do-do-do-do."

And I've tried explaining to his silly little brother that the Do-Do-Do truck is for pushing, not riding. 

But he thinks scooting around the room on this thing is hilarious, so he's not listening to me.

I told him if he keeps trying to ride this little truck, he's going to fall over. 

Told you so.

Quarantine

We played hooky this morning.

The kids were not pleased. They complained about staying home and demanded to know why we weren't going to church.

"But we're not sick anymore!" they insisted. Their dad joined the chorus.

No, we're not sick anymore. But this tired mom has had about all she can take over the last few weeks. The pinkie finger is healing, the fever is gone, the tummy ache woes are less frequent, the ear infection is clearing up, the sniffles are waning, and the cough seems to be subsiding. It's been a week since we've made a trip to the emergency room, and three days since we've been to the doctor. These are not records, but around here, they are becoming numbers to be proud of. After a few long weeks of various illness and injury, things finally seem to be looking up.

I just need to know we're going to be okay for a few more days. So I extended our family quarantine for another 24 hours.

And the weather just happened to be perfect on this Sunday morning for traipsing over the river and through the woods and building mud castles in the backyard.

So much for all those complaints.

Family storytime

It makes for a sweet picture, but this moment is not nearly as cuddly as it looks.

Jacob isn't giggling about Balaam's donkey striking up a conversation with his rider. He's screaming to be let down.

Caleb is plugging his ears and humming in a desperate attempt to drown out his brother. 

Abby has retreated to her first and only coping mechanism, sucking her thumb as she prays silently that God would please send her a nice, quiet sister next time. 

And all the while, Daddy does his best to restrain a 4-year-old, a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old on his lap so he can get through one little story.

It might be time to rethink our bedtime routine.