No Time to Feel Sick

I have said before...the mom can't get sick. I'm not feeling sick as in, "I can't get out of bed" sick. It is more of I have a splitting headache, my stomach is off and I am so tired, I could sleep for a week. I think it is stress-related. Our microwave broke for good yesterday morning. I didn't realize how much I depend on it. It heats Gia's bottles quickly (I know...we are working on weaning but it isn't going great this time around), makes her chicken nuggets quickly, and cooks Nico's after school food (Hot Pockets)quickly. It dawned on me that almost every food I eat, I need the microwave for. It heats the chocolate for my strawberries, the cheese for my nachos, my microwave popcorn and my rice for my soup. That leaves scrambled eggs and apples and peanut butter. I wonder where Gia gets her picky eating habits? Anyway, the repair guy isn't coming until Thursday.

Gia woke up in the middle of the night. At this point, I am looking forward to potty-training because it will mean that teething is over and I'll get some sleep. I have her 15 month check-up today and I dread taking the kids to the doctor. I am always afraid it is judgement day. Did I feed them well enough for their weights to be normal? Are their heights normal? (Remember when there were no charts and some kids were short and some were tall and some were skinny and some were not?) Are they hitting their milestones? I want to be of the frame of mind that they will do it when they are ready. Gia proves that to me all the time. She walked late but she's running around now. She said words late but she entertained all of Convenient Care's waiting room yesterday with her babbling. I know she'll give up the bottle when she is ready but will my doctor feel the same way or will I get a lecture on the detriments to still being bottle-fed? While we are on the subject of Convenient Care, I put off Gia's blood test for as long as I could but had to do it yesterday. Why? Why did I have to do it in the first place? She's fine. Why do we have to go looking for things? Couldn't we have waited until there was a problem and then look to see what it was? I know the answer to that. Some kinds of issues, if you wait until you see symptoms, it is too late. I get it. I just don't like it. Plus she is getting shots and I always worry about how it will affect her.

And...I overslept. It was not a good feeling when Nico came in and said, "Are Tommy and Belle not going to school? It's almost 7:45." Yikes! I jumped out of bed, kissed Nico goodbye (who was about to miss his own bus) and started waking up the twins. Tommy jumped up right away and headed for the world's fastest shower. Isabella...now that is where the knot in my stomach came from. I just bought her a bunch of clothes for the warmer weather. She is very picky about her clothes. It was all stuff that is comfortable but fashionable enough for school. She LOVED them and went to bed happily knowing what she was going to wear today. I thought, Great! No fights tomorrow! WRONG!! She came downstairs and said, "Mom, what should I wear?" I don't feel good, I overslept, I have a long day. I have zero patience for this question especially since it was finally decided the night before. Here is how it went:

Me: We already decided. The peace shirt with the biker shorts.
Belle: I thought I was going to wear the butterfly one with biker shorts.
Me: The peace one is better because it is longer and has shorter sleeves. It's going to be hot out. Wear that.
Belle (starting to cry for no reason): I like the butterfly one.
Me (feeling very frustrated): Why would you ask me what to wear and when I tell you, cry that it isn't what you want to wear? Pick out your own clothes then.
She stomped up to her room and came down with the butterfly shirt on.
Me (forgetting what the butterfly one looked like): That doesn't match.
Belle: Yes it does.
Me: You have pink biker shorts and there is no pink on that shirt.
Belle (getting more and more agitated): Why'd you say it looked cute last night?
Me: I said it would look cute with black biker shorts and that I'd get them for you the next time I went shopping.
She must have remembered that I said that because she stomped back up the stairs saying things in a voice I am sure only dogs can hear.

She proceeded to burn her first set of waffles, cry that the ones I made her weren't hot enough, complain that I never do book order, cry that she isn't going to do well on her multiplication facts (that she is supposed to do with Leo but she keeps forgetting to ask him at night), and finally...the hair. I didn't even attempt to try and fix it with the mood she was in. I told her to throw it up in a ponytail with a new headband and was she grateful to not have to have me do it. Nope. She stomped all the way up the stairs saying, "You never help me with ANYTHING!"

It can only get better from here, right?