Blogging at naptime.

Well hello me, A potentially impending cold and the normal tiredness of post-kid bedtimes nearly prevented me from sitting down to type out a year end blog to myself and my tens of readers, but some prayer and a glorious plate of 10 o'clock nachos have re-inspired me toward a little reflection.  It's been quite the year. I have THREE tiny humans now. I'm not sure how this happened entirely (I have some idea). I mostly can't believe I'm responsible for THREE tiny humans! I feel like the person who is truly qualified to be in charge will show up at any moment now. But I'm doing my best in the meantime, trying to veil my subtle naughty words muttered under my breath at various points in a day when given a one way ticket to crazy town courtesy of the aforementioned children. I really don't think I swore until I had children.  #oopsididitagain I hope hashtags are still a thing in 2017 because I am awesome at (my version of) them. I am quite thankful

After my husband kindly defrosted the van doors last Wednesday morning, he left for work and I set off for Bellevue with my 3 tiny humans and approximately 98% of our house in tow (mostly in the form of toys and snacks). We were headed to another peanut Oral Immunotherapy appointment, this one lasting five and a half hours. We began with the dose Emma had been at for the last week (.06g of crushed peanut) and sailed through four or five doses throughout the course of the day. I texted my husband at one point with a celebratory, "3 doses away from a whole peanut!" A WHOLE PEANUT. Unbelievable. We finished the last dose of .30g of crushed peanut and she began complaining of a stomach ache. I didn't think too much of it, hoping it would subside quickly. It continued and then she developed a dry cough. She has that occasionally so I wasn't too alarmed. When her breathing became increasingly wheezy however I knew she was officially reacting to the dose. The nurses ca

When our 5 year old daughter Emma was six months old I received a phone call that changed everything about the way we would raise her. We learned she had a potentially life threatening peanut allergy after some tests were run in attempts of figuring out the cause of her eczema. I think it took us years to actually process this information in its fullness. We didn't have any allergies or know anyone with peanut allergies. And how  could  Halloween be complete without  Reeses  peanut butter cups?! I implore you.   We've become quite skilled at carrying "safe" foods for her wherever we go and reading food labels obsessively. She has handled it all beautifully, never complaining or showing any signs of food related anxiety. I've gotten used to checking her face after meals just to be sure no signs of a reaction are evident. She's never ingested peanuts as far as we know, but has broken out in hives after eating hummus (she has a garlic allergy as well), a

I know it might seem a bit excessive to do TWO blog posts in one day, surpassing my usual two per year, but I couldn't keep the general public from hearing a little bit about our Fourth of July Eve festivities. Our afternoon family nap, courtesy of 6:11 am (see previous post), brought back to life my sweet, happy, well rested tiny humans. Glorious. Things were going so well. I even made a pot roast in the crock pot that my children actually consumed. Monumental. The glory was short lived my friends. Here are some fun stats from our life post-pot roast. 8:00 Baby Claire is settled down for the night (aka 3-4 hours) 8:15 Bedtimes for the elder two begin. 8:18 The husband and I excitedly anticipate our new Sunday tradition of an in home date night consisting of board games, snacks, and gazing into each other's eyes for hours on end. 8:20 The neighbors and surrounding neighborhoods can sense the impending cover of night and my children preparing to slumber. 8:21

Upon initial inspection, I may appear to be living the life currently. I'm sitting here in the sunshine with our eight year old MacBook laptop (our oldest child), I have my homemade Starbucks Verismo iced espresso with dairy free creamer (because eczema) perched atop the filthy tiny tot table next to me, and I am blogging without children in my ear because they have all been banished to their rooms for forced afternoon naps. The making of this moment was brought to you by 6:11 AM. THAT is the time seared into my brain today as I awoke to the sound of my son crying and my daughter coming into my room confidently carrying her blanket and stuffed Curious George, ready to begin her day. Our days do not begin at 6:11 am my friends. I will provide the disclaimer that my incredibly brave and beautiful friend Brenda has a sweet son who gets up in the 4 am hour every day. I can't speak to her pain right now. I had a good 31 year run with sleep (minus a brief season of colic in i

My kids have a favorite book about "Pickles" the fire cat. Admittedly, it's kind of a lengthy read at 7:45 pm when my brain has been officially unusable for a good 45 minutes, my unbathed children are using their bunk beds to hone their acrobatic skills, and there's a bowl of granola, American Ninja Warrior, and the glorious absence of parental responsibilities awaiting me in the living room. So, Pickles' story ends up getting "condensed" a bit and my tinies are none the wiser.   But from what I've gathered in my bedtime paraphrasing, Pickles starts out a bit of a cat bully, ends up living at the local fire station where he learns kindness, fire safety, and how to rescue cats stuck up in trees, rather than being the one who chases them up there in the first place. In the end, the nice cat lady who befriended Pickles said she always knew he would do big things and Pickles raises a paw to her as if to say "Nice cat lady, this is on

As I attempted to make dinner tonight, both of my children were watching two different episodes of "Caillou" on two different devices (not that they even know what "TV" is or are ever given electronic "devices" to entertain them while I accomplish things. Obviously.) If you're unfamiliar with Caillou, he is a tiny, bald Canadian child who selflessly offers to teach your child how to whine in a variety of situations including (but not limited to): home, school, at a friend's house, at Grandma's house, at the grocery store, and in any and all indoor/outdoor settings. I try to balance out the whiny influence with equal amounts of a small, well-intended monkey who seems to curiously create problems only to then be praised for uncovering their solution later on. I heard the man with the yellow hat telling Chef Pisghetti the other day, "He never does this at home..."  I say the same thing yellow hat man. I say the same thing. Tod

I think if I could choose one super power to possess in life, it would be the ability to simply look at a fitted sheet and know exactly which end to start with when making up the bed.  This would save me probably a solid 4 minutes over the course of my entire life based on some highly scientific mathematical equations I just came up with, and the embarrassing infrequency of my sheet washing. "This is a cool car!" - Emma living large in the backseat of our fancy new minivan. She gets it. Sadly, the former David Blaine status I'd achieved with my children abruptly subsided when less than a week after purchasing our fancy new minivan, the side with the magical self-opening power door became entirely unusable... Until my husband magically fixed it this evening using some logic, skill, and a head lamp. So now we're more like Penn and Teller, both incredibly magical, and one noticeably taller than the other. In other news, you can be moving along at a fairly stea

I've had to wash my brand new slipper boots twice in the last week... The first time was definitely hot chocolate. The second cause for laundering has slipped into an array of memories I thought I was repressing but have now apparently decided to delve into with this blog regarding #TummyBug2016. My son threw up on my slipper boots last weekend not once, but twice. Tragic. I was so unprepared for this predicament as we've always had issues with itchy eczema-ridden tiny humans in our home, but this was the first time we were all sick with something no steroid cream or shea butter/coconut oil/beeswax/manuka honey natural lotion blend/gluten free/dairy free/flavor free diet could suppress. We went down like a set of dominoes, beginning with the youngest of us and ending with the tallest.  It was like a free ab workout for me and some sort of bouncy house contraption for my unborn daughter. Speaking of this unborn kid, she is now the size of a cantaloupe hanging on the fron