Eat Your Peas, With Olive Oil, Please.

I'm the paranoid mom that worries about everything... are my kids meeting milestones? Am I securing them in their car seats properly; did that guy at the fire station inspecting the car seat fit really know what he was doing? What if they get the flu? Did the hand sanitizer work well enough after Annika touched the dirty toys at the doctor's office? What if she touches her mouth and gets alcohol poisoning from the sanitizer?

I have plans as to what room in our house would be the safest should spontaneous gunfire break out in our neighborhood; the downstairs bathroom has no external walls. It's the same room we would seek shelter in the event of a tornado. If an earthquake hits, we'll pile into Annika's room, on her bed. Somehow, that seems like the safest spot...

You get the picture. I worry about my girls, a lot. Before having kids, I can't remember having an emotion stronger than the desire I now have to protect, love, and nurture my babies. My heart grew when they were born. Their adorable giggles make me giddy.

Most of the time, my paranoia is unfounded; I always hope it is. I've been concerned that Lydia's weight is low. This week at her well baby check, we discovered that in this case, my worry was founded. I should have listened to my mommy instinct and pushed the issue earlier. Lydia, who has always been a little string bean, has dropped in percentile for weight. I'm beyond concerned.

Annika ate and ate, & nursed and nursed. She gained weight and grew like a  little weed, a chunky one. I felt like I had the nutrition thing down. I feed Lydia the same foods that her sister thrived on. Lydia isn't much of a daytime nurser, but makes up for it at night. Evidently, I have nothing figured out... my sweet baby is struggling to grow.

Our goal is now to feed our little one the fattiest, most calorie rich foods she'll eat. The difficulty? From sun up to sun down, she will happily munch on fruits, veggies, melon, and berries, but doesn't seem to have developed a taste for rich foods. Thankfully, she has recently let go of the idea that a bottle is an insult to her maturity, and is guzzling organic whole milk. Despite my preference to avoid dairy, I'm elated to see Lydia's sweet, soft little cheeks filling out.


Wanting my children to have every advantage in life, I wish with all my might for the girls to grow and thrive. Although assured by the dietitian that Lydia will be just fine, I am of course still worried, and can't wait until the pounds start pouring on.

My dear sweet Baby L, you melt my heart. I love you more that words can express. Please, listen to mommy, and eat your food, and a little less sand.