Really? A not fabulous post.

I promised really boring baby updates yesterday, and so I will deliver:

Night Terrors: Y'all really gave me some awesomely radical advice on night terrors. So, thanks. This is why I'll keep the internet, you know? Anyway, after doing some serious googling, I took care of those night terrors with one strategically placed nightlight, a disconcertingly ritualist new night-time routine, and forced naps. Lattemommy and Mommy's Martini were kind enough to remind me that sleep begets sleep. (Thanks, ladies!) We have been almost one month night-terror-free.

Dehydration: The whole emergency room trip for the kid that wouldn't pee? Total. Waste. Of. Time. Huckdoll likes to giggle at me when I call the nurse-line, and I know she's right, but when it's just you with 3 kids and one of them is showing 2 of the 10 signs of severe dehydration and it's almost bedtime, well, you do whatcha gotsta do. I just couldn't get the kid to drink, you know? I tried everything, and the only thing that worked was a popsicle. The popsicle also gave her all the gusto of a spider on crack, and we knew we had to come up with a better plan. Celticbuffy recommended gatorade mixed with cranberry juice, and that sounded as good as anything else, so we tried it. No go. She wouldn't touch it.

(This is where I need to interject a little somethin'. See, I had one kid who superglued* himself to his binkie when we dared try to take it from him at three and a half. I had one kid who still, at seven years and 11 months and 20 days, still wants a sippy cup. Kid three? Got nothing. There were no binkies { truth be told, we offered; she declined } and this kid has only ever gotten a bottle at bedtime. We own two and only two sippy cups, and she loathes them. She uses the same glasses her brothers use, and up until 2 days ago, this seemed like a fine arrangement.)

I was beside myself. The kid would not drink. Thanks to the popsicles, she had managed to squeeze out 3 little, sad, pathetic tinkles of peepee. And then she fell, and fell hard, and really clonked her head, and while she screamed and cried I noticed something. There were no tears. NO TEARS.

Just as I was bracing to pin her to the floor and force some fluid down her throat, or take her to the ER again for IV fluids, The Donor chimed in. "Have you put the juice in a bottle?"

I. Never. Thought. Of. That. We filled up the one bottle we own with gatorade and she chugged it down like she was trying to pledge a frat. And then she asked for MoMo OwrJoosh (more orange juice). She chugged another one. We got 18 oz. of fluids in her in under 3 minutes. The Donor ran out right then and bought all the bottles Safeway had in stock, and most of the gatorade.

And so, at the ripe old age of 2 1/2, my daughter is starting on bottles. I know what you all are going to say, and I totally appreciate your input, but seriously...if you try to talk me out of this I am going to smack you. I know what I'm getting myself into here. Hell, I am 40 days shy of beginning my 2nd decade of parenting. (Excuse me while I go throw up.) The important thing is that she's drinking, a lot, and she is re-hydrated. The proof of that is that someone whom we shall not name mistook her big girl panties for a diaper last night and put her to bed in those big panties, which got my buttercup up nice and early this morning in the middle of quite the puddle.

My kids hate me: Lastly, yes, I had a hot date planned with the Notorious Lattemommy yesterday, and she even had cinnamon rolls waiting for me, and all three of my kids decided that yesterday morning was the perfect time to give their immune systems a little vacation. Oh well. Maybe another day.

*Not true, but close.