And the levels just go up

In some ways I guess I find it amusing.

In some aspects of my/my children's lives I'm so incredibly lax that it freaks people out. The word "complacent" has been used before by others. Though I wouldn't go that far.

Germs don't bother me. My kids eat food they've dropped on the ground, they roll in mud, they share sippy cups with their friends. Heck, they both were on airplanes by two weeks old.

I let them push their physical boundaries and rarely say "be careful." They stack chairs on top of their tables and stand on top of them. Of course, I'm cringing inside and want to quickly put them down on safe ground, but I always push my fears down and let them figure out what they are capable of and try my best not to limit them.

But then in other aspects I'm so far "safe" it also freaks people out. I'm so paranoid about pesticides and chemicals going in and on their little bodies.

Illnesses I cannot prevent terrify me.

On one hand, it isn't surprising my son has knocked himself unconscious or that I've rushed my daughter to the doctor for putting a tooth through her chin, amongst other things. Scary situation for sure, but also situations many children encounter whether they are kept "safe" or not. Kids are kids.

But on the other hand, I am surprised my son has lead poisoning. Because I'm so careful. And I'm even more surprised that his levels have gone up. A lot.

We've done so much to get rid of all things lead it seems nearly ridiculous. We purged all of their toys. We left the house for a week while J completely replaced our stair case. We took several of our doors and had them completely stripped of all paint. I even goodwilled our Christmas tree and lights, after the fact though, upon discovering they too carry lead.

So what's next?

I feel so defeated. I feel like I've tried so hard to give them freedom in every aspect, while also trying my best to keep their little bodies healthy the best I know how, and yet it's not been enough. Something hasn't worked. Somewhere I went wrong.

I'm trying really hard not to feel sorry for myself. Because this isn't about me. At all.

And yet I still can't help but feel I have failed that sweet boy yet again as his mother. It's my job to protect him and keep him healthy. And I can't seem to do that.

But my little girl spoke words of wisdom to me today, Her small hands cradling my face in the deli section of the grocery store, she said to me, "You're the best mommy in the world. It's all gonna be okay."

I hope she's right.

Okay, I know she's right.

To some extent.

I know I'm the best mom for them. And I know that it will all be okay, one way or another, things work out how they are supposed to.

But sweet damn, I don't feel like this should be happening to a baby boy. The idea of me having to take them to stay somewhere else for several weeks, maybe even months, until this has all been sorted and the house has been made safe, as well as everything in it, seems so unfair to those kids who love their papa so. It seems wrong to separate them.

And yet at the end of the day it might be our only option if we discover it is something in our home.

We've tested the big things, but now we get to test literally everything. Good times all around.

But a freshly bathed naked bird just came and crawled on my lap, so I'm off to love him up.

Because in the end, all I can really guarantee him is my love.

The sickies came to our house

The sickies have finally made their way to my babes. Well, to one of them anyway.

We've been incredibly fortunate that our kids haven't really been sick. H had a UTI at around 18 mos that was caused by diarrhea that was caused by teething...and they each had a minor cold this past fall. And H has my awesome sinuses. But that's it, luckily.

And then B vomited. Projectile vomited all over me and the library in our house. The floor was covered. In cheese and watermelon. Lovely visual, eh?

But he never broke a fever and he acted perfectly normal in between. Playing and running about, just coming back to me every 20-30 minutes in order to vomit in my lap. Classy, right? And four hours later the pukes stopped and that was that.

I called his pediatrician twice during this time. Yep, can you tell I worry much and truly had no idea what to do? He was puking bile apparently, and I was about to freak the flip out because I didn't know what this extreme yellow, thick stuff was that kept coming up was and Jaime was in-transit and I had no idea who else to call and ask who wouldn't think I was completely off my rocker or maybe under qualified to be a mom, so I just called the pediatrician.

And then called them again when they were all "Well, if he pukes more than 8x in 12 hours then call us back because that's more worrisome." Of course, when I did tell them he'd puked 8x in less than 4 hours all they said was to stop nursing him and giving him liquids. Yeah...I'm only going to assume that that nurse never had a hungry/thirsty toddler before. But it's cool, because he didn't vomit again after that.

So I'm not sure if I'm convinced it was a bug or from eating the cheese. He couldn't even tolerate me drinking milk or eating cheese and getting it through my breast milk as a small babe, so maybe he really just cannot deal well with it. We've not really tried until today. I mean, he's had milk that's cooked into things and whatnot, but today he downed two cheese sticks. That's the most dairy he's ever had at once.

Who knows? I'm not going to do an experiment to find out, that's for sure!

But what a sweet little girl I have, who loved on her brother and waited so patiently for her papa to get home early so that he could hold B while we made her "banana treat" (two frozen bananas, cocoa powder and coconut milk blended - like chocobanana ice cream!) that she wanted to so badly. She waited for two hours without whining!

Anyway, the only real downside to not knowing if it was a bug or cheese is that I then feel obligated to keep him home for 24 hours, so as not to pass on our potential germs to unsuspecting folks. And we are not stay at home all day people. At all.

I'd rather give birth than have the stomach flu

Seriously, I'd rather push a 9lb baby out naturally again than to have the stomach flu. Hands down, any day. I choose child birth over the stomach flu.

I'm never sick. Ever.

Fortunately, my children are not either. We have, semi-knowingly, been exposed to stomach viruses several times throughout my children's lives. Thus far, they've never gotten them. And I hadn't either until last night.

Dear God, I deserve a baby after all that. Just sayin'.

But this is definitely one of those moments that make me go " oh , crap! I'm so not ready for parenthood."

1.) I got lucky. Both kids actually slept through it all. But I haven't a clue what I'd have done all alone if they were awake during the worst of it.

2.) Omg, if they'd been the pukers, it'd be a vomit-fest, for real. I'm a sympathetic puker. Even to myself sometimes.

3.) Now that they're awake and I'm exhausted and still unwell, what do I do with them? It's not like they can feed them selves or B can change his own diaper, or they can remotely be trusted not to destroy the house we are in (B is currently taking all the wipes out of their package and shredding them...).

Yeah, I'd much rather give birth than deal with the stomach flu. I know how to deal with that. And there is an awesome reward at the end. All I get when this blows over is a flat stomach for a day until I rehydrated and eating normally again.