There was one idea that all my mom friends seemed to get behind: choices. This was supposed to be empowering for your kid, to have CHOICES. Maybe your kid wouldn't battle you all the time about being told what to do and wear and eat. You could calmly say, "Dearest Child of Mine, would you like to play with the blocks or draw with crayons?" And the child, presented with Choice, would obviously pick one and feel as though he was a little bit in charge of his world. Right? 

NOT MY KID. During one of my "Oh dear God what AM I going to do with this boy?" moments I busted out the Choices. I've seen all of my friends do it. They extolled the idea and it seemed to be working for them. "You can have chicken nuggets or macaroni and cheese for dinner tonight," I'd tell Jack. And just LOOK at that choice. It's a preschooler win win! But Jack would look straight at me and say, "I want Frosted Mini Wheats with no milk."

I'm 20ish weeks pregnant and getting bigger (okay, looking fatter, not necessarily pregnant-er) and the kids are well aware of this predicament. I forget when we told them we were having a new baby - not right away, and not just because we wanted to make sure Third Baby was sticking around. Nine months just seems like a long time in Kid World and I didn't want to have to explain Where Babies Come From right away. If they asked. No way was I going to OFFER that information.

But the kids haven't wondered where babies come from. For whatever reason it makes perfect sense to them that there's a baby in my tummy. Whenever I'm not feeling well they say, "Is that because you have a baby in your tummy?" When I'm tired they nod sympathetically and say, "That's because you have a baby in your tummy." When they're feeling sweet they pat my belly and kiss it and tell my how much they love my baby. (It's always MY baby, not OUR baby.)

What they HAVE asked is how the baby comes out. The first time Jack innocently posed this question I looked at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed. UHHHHH... Finally I said, "The baby comes out of your bottom!" I thought this was great because 1) it's easy to understand and 2) it has the benefit of being true (ish). Until I realized that Jack now thinks, probably, that you POOP a baby out. Ugh.

I'm up freakishly early for a West Coaster, and I've BEEN up for a while. That's what happens when you've been evacuating your stomach contents all night - sleep begins to feel otherwordly, out of reach, nigh impossible. I blame the children, of course. Molly caught herself some stomach bug, I think maybe at the doctor when we went to get her ears checked. Jack caught it a few days later and, LUCKY ME! It's my turn. 

I sort of want to die.