Chock full of chocolate chips

Photo by =-.0= 


In our gluten free days, I learned a secret: sure, the cookie dough might not be the perfect texture, it might be a little crumbly, BUT if you add enough good chocolate chips to it, it will be yummy. Chocolate covers a multitude of sins.


The last few weeks have been a bit stressful, and my cookie has been rather crispy around the edges and crumby in the middle at times, but I have been blessed with some lovely chunks of dark chocolate in there, too:

* an unexpected date night with Carlos, thanks to a gift certificate to PF Changs from SIL and BIL, and my mom and dad taking care of the kidlets. Time alone with my Beloved and the Great Wall of Chocolate--how wonderful is that?!

* tender "I love you, Mami"s from all the kidlets. Last night, Elena, who has had a rough time lately, kept snuggling and smiling at me with the most loving, trusting, expression and repeatedly told me how much she loved me.

* "Thank you"s with radiant grins and shining eyes from the sweetlings for all kinds of little things, like going to the park or expected things like fixing lunch. Sincere thanks for something routine and expected is always a gift for a mom!

* Maturity, steadiness and general lack of drama from my darling four year old. His gentleness and joy, his delight in caring for his baby sister and constant desire to give her little gifts.

* Flowers (picked from our yard) that my sweeties brought me, because they smelled so nice and they wanted to share them with me.

* Seeing Amaya break into a beautiful smile when we make eye contact. There is nothing more precious than a baby who seems to smile because of you!

* Healing hugs and massages. Ariana can sense whenever I am tired and achy, and without any prompting will come up and start rubbing my back. Even though she is only 6, she has a gift of healing in her hands.

* Carlos holding my hand every chance we get. :)

* Coffee and visits with friends who fully understand. It is wonderful when someone close to you gets it without it having to be explained.

* A lovely sunset as I was leaving work.

* Spontaneous playdates with our bestest friends. :)

* Comments, love and encouragement from friends and family. I am always so humbled by the support from the amazing people in my life. So many are facing challenges far greater than mine and still take the time to build me up.

I really am living the sweet life.

Save the Day

It began last night. Amaya was ominously fussy. Not anything scary, such as getting sick, just tummy bubbles and growth spurt nursing. She woke up every two hours to nurse, which is to be expected. Elena, being two and dealing with allergies, also woke up every two hours. She considerately alternated them with Amaya. Joel woke up at five AM when the alarm went off and wanted to come into our bed. Between them all, I did not get one hour without waking up to take care of one of them.

I woke up (the last time) groggy and with a headache. As I stumbled to the coffeepot, Ariana called out that she wanted snuggles. Knowing that I would be swarmed as soon as I went back to the bed, and that the baby needed a diaper change, I suggested that she come into the kitchen with me instead. Major six year old drama ensued. Elena was climbing everything in sight, Joel was upset because he wanted help with his game, and the baby did *not* want to be put down.

I knew that I was on the verge of losing it. I also know that the kids feed off my attitude, and the only way to keep the day from becoming a disaster was for me to somehow save it. So, I gulped down coffee and rounded the kids up for a day at the park. Once we were all safely in the van, I mentally patted myself on the back for recognizing and averting the total shipwreck of the day. At that moment, Elena vomited profusely all over herself and her seat.

I pulled over to clean her up as best as I could with a clean shirt and wipes. Elena is easily carsick, so I decided to keep going. After pulling into the left turn lane, I noticed it wasn't moving. Cars were whizzing by on the right too quickly to get out and change lanes. Joel was complaining that he was too cold, but I didn't want to turn off the AC and have the smell of vomit in a hot car provoke another round of puking. We spent a good fifteen minutes in that lane thanks to a stalled car. But I refused to be daunted! We finally made it to the park.

Despite some minor mishaps, the park was a lot of fun. We were there a few hours, most of which was spent in the sand pit. Elena had tremendous fun pouring sand all over herself over and over. Since she wasn't throwing it at anyone else, I let her go. She was absolutely filthy by the time we left, but she needed a bath anyway.

Once we were home, I turned on the sprinkler and let the kids loose in the backyard. I nursed and played with Amaya while they rinsed off the day's accumulation of grime. I was really pleased at how well the day was going. Sure, we had gotten off to a rough start, but look how much fun the afternoon had been!

Carlos called and asked if we wanted to come pick him up from work and go to a bookstore. I confidently told him that there was just enough time to have everyone dry off and get dressed and be there in time. As I went to tell Joel and Ariana, Joelito turned around with the hose in his hand, soaking my pants, which happened to be the only clean pair that fit me at the moment. We got inside and dry, and while I was looking for something to wear, Elena went climbing again. She is truly part monkey.

I came into the kitchen and heard an "Uh oh". She smiled nervously at me, the look of one who fears a reprimand but is hoping for the best. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out *what* she had smeared all over her face. She had been fingerpainting with something, but what? It looked black, like motor oil, but I couldn't imagine anything like that being accessible. She pulled her hands out from behind her back, and they, too were covered. So was the counter. So were the cabinets. So was our mail. She held out a jar of my super-duper ultra-concentrated food coloring gel. You know, the kind that you use because it would take so much liquid food coloring that it would water down whatever you are making.

I managed to get the worst of it rinsed off. She is still green, and I found green splotches in a variety of unexpected places, including my bra. ???? Thankfully, the carpet was spared. Somehow, we all got relatively presentable (except for Elena's green face and hands) and picked Carlos up on time. The bookstore was very nice, the kids had a great time and behaved well, I was able to read a little, and both babies fell sound asleep on the way home.

Saving the day sounds good, but boy, does it ever take persistence! This wasn't a *bad* day, just a normal one. I think of friends and family members who have to face far more daunting challenges every day with the health of loved ones, and am in awe at their ability to save each day, no matter how bad it seems to be. You are my heroes.

Terrible Twos

When my oldest was passing through two, I really couldn't imagine what the stereotype was about. It was a delightful year, unmarred by tantrums or tempests. Then three hit. Whoa. In all of the parenting boards where I have posted, if a mom is overwhelmed, chances are the child is three. I have since found the deeper, sinister meaning of the equation: six equals three, times two. But six and a half has been extremely pleasant and peaceful.

Alas, Elena seems to be having a terrible time being two. Yesterday was miserable, and was spent mostly in tears (mainly hers). She wasn't sick or running a fever, although I suspect allergies. She had slept pretty well the night before. Her molars are in. But every. little. thing. resulted in prolonged meltdowns, and every place she passed by turned into a disaster area as she climbed or attempted to help and sent objects flying off of whatever surface she approached.

Property rights are confusing--she is still grasping the whole concept of ownership and possession (note: possession in this context does not refer to anything demonic, although I have frequently heard that attributed to two year olds). Anything that someone else has instantly becomes more appealing than what she has, until they offer to trade, and she wants both.

Her speech is improving daily, but to her intense frustration, she is not always understood.

She is so tender and loving, but has little understanding of her own strength with the baby, and with others sometimes her impulses get the better of her and she hits or kicks. I can sometimes see her trying to reign herself in, but when she is tired or overwhelmed she lashes out. She always wants to comfort anyone in distress, even if she is the (at times, unwitting) cause of that distress.

It is a tough age. She wants so much to be independent and do it herself, but things like the getting underwear on with the legs in the correct holes are just complicated. Physically, she is constantly pushing the limits of her capabilities, and isn't always able to do or reach what she wants, or misjudges (like yesterday, when she dumped a large bowl of deep red enchilada sauce all over the place. I was mentally paraphrasing Lady Macbeth, both in "Who would have thought that small bowl had so much sauce in it?" and "Out, damned spot!"). Somehow, the sauce covered *everything* within a five foot radius. But I needed to mop and do laundry, anyway, and the homemade sauce that I had to improvise turned out well.

She can't quite keep up with her siblings, and they are getting to an age where they prefer to do more solitary activities, like reading, and aren't quite as inclined to play with her as before. Having a new baby sister, who at this point is quite clearly here to stay, takes further time and attention away from her. We are also working a lot more.

Yesterday, she was sobbing in the car, and though I sat next to her and tried to comfort her, she was inconsolable. Her eyes showed such a deep sadness. Her emotions are so strong--she is either jumping for joy (literally) or in the depths of despair. It would be easy to dismiss her feelings, but they are obviously very real.

There really isn't much I can do to change things--she will continue to be two, with all its inherent challenges and frustrations; her sister is not going to leave; we aren't going to quit our jobs. She is strong, smart and resilient, and I know she will adapt. I've seen her older siblings go through similar challenges and come out just fine. But like adolescence, the process is painful, both to experience and watch. My little sweetie desperately needs those mercies that are new every morning, and so do I. And I refuse to even *think* about three or six right now!

Ride it out?

I love parenting most of the time. I have been very public about my ideals, including gentle, responsive parenting, child-led weaning, baby-wearing and cosleeping. I'm no martyr--most of the time I really enjoy those aspects of being a mom. The last few days, however, I've felt it creeping up on me: a growing sense of claustrophobia, a sensation of being touched-out.

My love language is touch, and it takes a lot to get me to think that it is too much. However, between wearing the baby, nursing three, and sleeping next to a couple of them, I could probably count on my fingers, with only a few toes, the number of minutes that no one else is making physical contact with me some days.

And while I expect to be up a lot in the night with a baby (who, funnily enough, has been sleeping 5 hours stretches since she was a couple of weeks old), our two year old has been trying to cope with some major disruptions in routine by nursing every hour and a half in the night. Our six year old is going through a very sensitive time where anything less than a whole-hearted embrace and showers of affection result in tears and sobs of not being loved as much as the babies. Last night when I gently but firmly told them both that I needed space there was great weeping.

I've been here before. While certainly not a place I enjoy, I've visited a few times in the last few years. I know that both their neediness and my discomfort are temporary. So, while I could choose to wean, or at least restrict nursing, and change our sleeping arrangements, etc, I am making the choice to ride it out. For one thing, even if I refused to let her nurse at night or to let them sleep with us, it wouldn't result in more sleep for any of us.

The real issues behind the insecurity--adjusting to a new baby, a new schedule, me working significantly more, and other things--are just things to ride out. In fact, adding a new change on top of them would likely just exacerbate the problem. But while gritting my teeth and going with the flow may work up to a point, I have some other tried and true strategies:

* Drinking lots of water. I learned when nursing while pregnant that hydration makes a huge difference!

* Seize the moment. There are so many things going on right now that my options are limited, but I plan to grab any moments I can for time alone. That includes savoring the fleeting moments in the night when all is quiet. It may also include locking myself in the bathroom with an iced coffee, a bar of chocolate and humming loudly with my fingers in my ears.

* Remember that it is my choice, and that it can be changed. Mentally acknowledging that I have the power to change this situation makes a difference. I am not a victim and I am not trapped. If it doesn't work, I can try something else.

* Grace. I give grace to my myself as well as my children. It is OK to feel irritated, angry, impatient or any other feeling. I won't live in that feeling--just let it go.

* Set boundaries when needed. Despite the tears, I didn't feel any guilt over telling the kids that I needed space. During the day, they can handle that calmly. The problem is that I am most likely to need that when we are all tired and less able to process things rationally.

* Remember. Remember how sweet they are and how quickly this goes by. Remember the times we have gone through this before and it passed.

* Get help. This is tacked on because it isn't always an option. Carlos is wonderful with the kids when he is home. (Of course, we are outnumbered two to one at this point...) I know that babysitters, MDO programs or other things are possibilities, too, but I don't feel it necessary for us right now.

For now, we'll just hold on tight to each other (perhaps a bit more literally than I would like) and know (and hope)that the ride will be over in a week or two.

My Ragamuffin Band

I have long been aware of my own fashion ineptitude, and most of the time I am comfortable with it. However, as we played in the park today, I realized that it might have negative effects on my children.

My policy has always been that as long as it is clean and safety/weather appropriate for the outing, the kids are free to choose their own outfits once they are old enough to express an opinion. As babies, I dress them in very cute, but more importantly very comfy clothing. 100% cotton with no scratchy stuff.

Both grandmas have lamented the fact that their granddaughters missed out on ultra-frilly dress and tights as babies, but Ariana helped make up for it by going through a ballerina-princess phase as a toddler. For over a year, she wore either a tutu or a princess dress 24/7. Her tastes have grown more sophisticated as she has gotten older, and though she isn't opposed to a splash of magenta and sparkles, her current preference is for a brown or dark green ensemble with brown leather shoes.

Joel has two criteria for clothing: comfort and Spidey. It is no coincidence that nearly every photo he is in since the age of two shows him wearing a Spiderman shirt. He is very picky about softness, though. Therefore, his favorite outfits are super-soft Spiderman jammies. He will also wear Spongebob, but Spidey is the clear favorite.

Elena is still a nudist at heart (she may or may not have removed all her clothing while inside the playground at McDonald's last week :shifty eyes:). If she *must* wear something, she prefers Joel's old clothes, because she loves soft, Spidey and blue. She even has matching Spiderman shoes.

If we are going to some place where dressing up is expected, I make sure that the kids are appropriately groomed and for the occasion. But, if they are going to the park or some place where I expect them to get dirty and messy, I don't care what they wear or if their hair is perfectly coiffed. A quick comb through, and we're good.

Apparently, though, I am in a minority. As we played at the park this afternoon, I realized that my kids were the only ones who didn't look like they could be posing for a photo shoot at the park. The ones around us looked like models for Baby Gap, with adorable, perfectly coordinated outfits. The girls had hair perfectly arranged with ribbons and bows. All were immaculate.

In contrast, my own little band of ragamuffins looked decidedly scruffy. Ariana is going through a phase of hair chewing, so it was messy. She was wearing a green and gray long shirt with a matching sash, and green pants of the same shade but a different pattern. She had realized after we arrived at the park that she didn't have her shoes, and so was wearing an old pair of pink and white tennies with no socks. Joel wore his favorite Spidey pajamas. Elena had purple paint in her hair from some creative endeavors that hadn't yet completely washed out, one of Joel's Spidey shirts and a pair of his shorts.

It occurred to me that my children might easily be judged by their appearance. While things like brand names are of no importance to me at all, I don't want to seem neglectful, and I certainly don't want my kidlets to be looked down upon because of my indifference to fashion or my hopelessness at hairstyling.

On the plus side, they climbed trees, played in the sand for hours and had a glorious time, and I wasn't the least bit concerned about dirt or climbing mishaps messing up their clothes. Still, a little balance isn't a bad thing. This is an area I need to work on.

Mothers' Intuition

A few weeks ago I picked up a book on Intuitive Parenting. I haven't read the whole thing, but I have mixed feelings about it. It claims that we are connected to each other and can communicate through those connections non-verbally.

Aside from the book, I've learned over the years that my children and I are linked in ways that might surprise some people. I wake up a few seconds before my babies wake up in the night. I can often tell if they are having a nightmare or are sick or upset before they wake up, because "something" alerted me. Even though we don't schedule at all, if my baby begins to cry, my milk comes down, even though we are miles apart. I can't tell you the number of times I've been on my way home and feel my shirt get wet a minute before Carlos would call and tell me that the baby was fussing. Our bodies are that in synch with each other. Less conclusively, there have been several occasions where I would look at them in an uncomfortable position or irritating item of clothing and feel the sensation in my own body.

I've posted before about Ariana's sensitivity to others (Help! My daughter is a Betazoid!). Reading this book, a lot of things clicked about her reactions to certain situations and people.

I've always believed in the supernatural. I know without doubt that God speaks to us. In some situations, the idea of us speaking to each other doesn't seem too far fetched to me. In many cultures, the idea of a special connection between loved ones that allows them to communicate on an unseen level is commonplace. Whether you call it psychic communication, telepathy or whatever, there is actually growing evidence that energy fields in our body can communicate with other bodies. It is pretty cool.

Because I believe that evil exists, too, I want to be careful and not open myself up to every spirit that is out there. Yet, as a Christian, I believe that the Holy Spirit is inside of us and can give us knowledge that bypasses normal channels, so to speak.

It is an interesting topic.

Showers of Blessings. And pecan shells.

Today was such a perfect day! After several days of hellacious heat, we were all going stir-crazy. This morning was beautiful and comparatively cool (double-digits instead of triple-digits), so we jumped in the van and headed to the park.

As we walked along the shaded entry, it sounded like it was raining. I looked up into the trees thinking we were getting a shower. Instead, I saw tons of squirrels, and was pelted with bits of shells from the pecans they were munching on. I've never seen so many at once! Elena and I both thought it was pretty funny, and were giggling together.

Ariana went to conquer the monkey bars, Joelito started burying himself in the sand box, Elena jumped into her favorite swing, and Amaya snuggled down in my wrap and took a nap. While I pushed Elena, the lady next to me struck up a conversation. Living in the buckle of the Bible Belt, we come across a lot of people who are unbalanced spiritually (and probably mentally), but everything she said was so encouraging. It was really sweet, and I felt very encouraged after she left.

Ariana, who had been endeavoring for months to master the monkey bars, crossed several times without hesitation. She was so proud of herself for sticking with it and managing to do it! Despite blisters on her hands when we left, she wore a huge smile. She also spent a lot of time watching over Elena as she explored.

Elena is usually the most intrepid of our little crew, but she kept stopping herself and saying, "Be careful! Don't fall!" today. I wasn't sure whether I should be pleased that she had internalized the idea or to regret saying it so often that she didn't have the confidence in herself to go ahead. Sigh--I think a continual part of motherhood is questioning my balance!

Joelito climbed unhesitatingly to the top of every structure in sight. A couple of times he wasn't sure how to get back down, but he made it successfully. All three stayed within the area I had told them to be in, played nicely with the other kids there, and left without complaining when it was time to go. I hear so frequently that children who are not spanked (let alone not punished!) are brats who terrorize everyone around them. I usually hesitate to use my own kids as examples, because there are certainly times when their behavior is not what it should be (generally because *my* behavior hasn't been what it should). However, the truth is that most of the time they are delightful, considerate, respectful and helpful kids. I really love being with them and taking them places because they keep it fun for everyone.

Once it got a bit too warm for comfort, we left the park and visited my beloved nephew and in laws. I am incredibly blessed in having a sister in law whom I would choose for a friend any day. She is an amazing mom and person in every way! We stopped for Mexican limonadas on the way home. There are always things that we might like to change, or times of stress and difficulty, but on days like today I feel like I've been soaking in showers of blessings. And pecan shells (I think I still have a few bits in my hair!).

Pillow Talk

Some of you may have read a recent article about how fewer couples in the US are sleeping in the same bed. With the arrival of Amaya, we have joined that group. Our current arrangement breaks down along gender lines, with Carlos and Joel sharing his room and all of us girls in our bed. To be honest, I miss having the guys in with us, but Carlos is getting more sleep since Joel doesn't wake up during the night.

Before, our nighttime routine involved me nursing/cuddling the youngest to sleep while Carlos told superhero stories to the others. Sadly, I no longer get to hear the adventures of Ipis and Upis as they valiantly help Spidey and Spongebob defeat the evil Whipped Cream Bandit at the Goofy Goober. The cool part is that Ariana has taken up the torch and is now making up stories for me. :)

As a child, my mom would tell me stories. Later, my sister and I made up stories for each other. That continued well into my teens, and some of my favorite memories are of staying up all night with my sister sharing stories. I still make up stories for the kidlets, but it is much more entertaining to hear the stories that they come up with! The only problem is that I get too sleepy. Yeah, somehow we have got it a bit backward--the kids are staying awake and I'm conking out. I think we need to move our bedtime up a bit so that I don't fall asleep during the stories. :D

Bigger is...better?

Or at least, not bad. I should give a disclaimer, I suppose. I am not a medical professional. Still, after the recent birth of our beautiful daughter, who happened to weigh 9 pounds and 6 ounces, I've been rethinking our view of appropriate sizes for babies in this culture, and I am wondering if perhaps it is just that: cultural.

The OB who assisted my midwife made several comments about potential size, which in retrospect were probably leading up to a warning about her being too big to be born vaginally. At the time, however, I was too focused on giving birth to read anything into it. She is our fourth, and in my experience, subsequent babies tend to be larger. She had measured on target, and I didn't have GD, so I wasn't going to waste energy worrying. Also, I had read so many accounts of home births where healthy babies were born weighing nine or ten pounds or more that I didn't see a large baby as being a problem.

Our society expects babies to weight around seven pounds. Of course, a couple of generations ago, we expected them to be around six pounds. I think there were a lot of things that influenced that: many women were still smoking and drinking during pregnancy, and they were limiting total weight gain to 15 pounds or so during pregnancy. The mothers themselves were smaller, not just in weight but also in height.

Now there are still many women who restrict their weight gain in pregnancy, not by following healthy diets, but by limiting food intake. The high number of false positives in standard glucose testing causes many women to go on diets in pregnancy, and there are still plenty of OBs out there who warn women against gaining much weight or who automatically schedule C-sections based on their best guess of the baby's size. Add to this the fact that most hospital births take place with the woman flat on her back, which causes her pelvic opening to be 30% smaller than in other positions, which likely contributes to the myths about women being unable to deliver larger babies.

In reading numerous accounts of homebirths where women followed healthy eating guidelines, but didn't otherwise restrict their caloric intake, and gave birth in whatever position they wished (almost never on their backs), I have been struck by the significant number of babies that were well over nine pounds. They were healthy babies, their mothers did not have diabetes, they were birthed naturally without complications, but they were generally larger than babies born under standard OB care.

What if that is actually normal, perhaps even optimal? What if smaller babies are more a result of our attempts to restrict birth weight rather than a reflection of what is most healthy for the babies and mothers? Anecdotally, I can say that the larger babies I've known of (including my own) tend to be more content, sleep better, are healthier and are easier babies than those who are born smaller.

It would be very interesting to see research comparing both models of pregnancy care, birth weights and outcomes.

FAs, PB&J, and BK

While I've been enjoying the fabulous cuisine in Puerto Rico (a very close second to Mexican food, which is also the food of Heaven), it has presented an interesting dilemma to a mom of food-allergic kids.

We first became aware of Ariana's food allergies about four years ago. Her reactions included hives, incontinence, eczema and behavioral symptoms. Once we eliminated her allergens, her skin cleared, she was diaper-free day and night, and her behavior went back to the calm little girl we knew was inside. I often wonder how many kids struggle with allergies that cause problems in toilet learning or behavior that the parents don't recognize--I wasn't familiar with those symptoms before.

The first year we were eliminating wheat, dairy, corn, eggs, peanuts, green beans, olives, and possibly some others that I've forgotten. Since she was breastfeeding, I had to avoid all her allergens, too. Later, she passed some food challenges, but Joel started breaking out in hives. He tested positive to black beans, pork, corn, and dairy. While hives are never fun, the only one who has ever gone to the hospital for a reaction is Elena, who is allergic to eggs, rice, cinnamon, berries and black beans.

We try to eat what we want as much as possible. I can make allergen-free versions of just about everything, especially desserts. The kids cook all the time and are very aware of what they can and cannot eat, and watch out carefully for Elena. Thankfully, many of the foods that they couldn't eat before are now safe for them. Right now, we only have to avoid Elena's allergens, as well as black beans for Joel, and eggs, green beans and olives for Ariana.

While we aren't as healthy as I would like to be, cooking from scratch and constant label reading has helped. We still do some fast food, etc. as well as some convenience foods. At the same time, the kids don't even bother to ask for things like turquoise cereal or yogurt, because "it has too many chemicals and weird things in there". And though we don't strictly avoid peanuts, with all the other allergy issues I have been reluctant to have them a regular part of our diet.

However, the first several days in Puerto Rico, Ariana was having horrible breakouts of eczema. It was the worst I had ever seen her. Puerto Rico uses olive oil in everything--one restaurant we went to told us that they didn't have a single thing that didn't contain EVOO. Usually, oils aren't as allergenic, but EVOO is. And because it isn't always obvious which foods contain, we have had to resort to fast food every day for her. I don't like a constant diet of BK or McD's, but at least they don't contain olive oil.

The hotel breakfasts were almost entirely egg-based, and it has been difficult for her to get any protein. Some days our excursions have meant that we have incredibly active mornings, and she really needed something substantial. So she has been eating PB&J every morning now. Elena and I have also done this many days. Even though Ariana's skin is clearing up, I still feel as if I am doing something forbidden.

So, our food world has turned upside down--we are deliberately seeking out junk food and PB. At least no one is reacting now.