The two littlest are working their way through Roseola. Roman was a pretty high maintenance little invalid, but Lucy June is sweeter than sweet. She lies on the couch and every once in a while lets out a melodramatic sigh and says: "I'm shick." 

When Jake was a baby, he was so rarely sick. Now that we have three littles, it feels like someone always has something: a runny nose, a rash, a cut we're making sure doesn't get infected. Weirdly, this malady-train has taught me about living in the moment. I want my kids to be well. I try to keep them healthy, but ultimately I can't control whether or not they get sick, so I have to let go. I also can't wait for the moment when everyone is simultaneously OK to finally relax because that moment may never come. I have to learn how to hold a beautiful Sunday evening in one hand and a feverish toddler in the other. 

That said. All the little sickies have got me thinking about some kind of detox. 

I'll (roughly) follow Mark Hyman's 10 Day Detox which is a lot like the Whole 30, but only ten days and with lots of specifically detoxing foods. Hyman is the president of the Institute of Functional Medicine. I listened to a lecture of his about biological food addiction, and then I got his book from the library, and now I'm worried that I'm a little too dependent on high glycemic foods. His detox involves daily exercise and a powerhouse of a smoothie in the mornings and a lot of journaling and reflection and Epsom salt baths in the evening. It also discourages screens before bed. So it would have me commit to ten days of new routines that I might want to implement.

People swear by by low-glycemic protocols, and I want to see how mine does on one. I'm starting to have those lovely complaints like brain fog and dry eyes and puffiness and junk in my throat in the mornings. I'm starting to feel older. And instead I want to feel me some optimum wellness. 

I tend to turn my nose up at detoxes probably because I'm pretty bad at doing them. I'm really good at eating mostly healthfully: lots of veggies and salads and intentional this and that, but I'm terrible if I have to give up my coffee/cookie mornings and wine/chocolate evenings. Terrible. I can forgo the occasional kettle-cooked potato chip binge, ice cream, yogurt covered pretzels, strong margaritas, and big hamburgers, but if I mess with my coffee or my wine or their attendants, we're talking toddler levels of brain integration and mood management. Once I wrap my brain around that hurdle I'll be on my way.

So that's what I've been thinking about. Since yesterday anyway. I'm writing it here because - as Gretchen Rubin has convinced me - I'm one of those unfortunate people who needs external obligations to get stuff done. And since Jacob has zero desire to ever ever do anything like this with me, you, little blog, get the job.

 No commitments yet, though. Still just planning. [And Jacob's somewhere laughing.]

More JakeTalk

Even though I posted some kiddo talk like five minutes ago, I just found these in my drafts, and had to share them before they got too dusty.

>> 1 <<

Jake: How old are you?
Me: 30
Jake: But Papa's 30 and he's a lot bigger than you.
Pauses
Jake: Is he 30 and a half?

>> 2 <<

While the kids were playing with their uncle who fell down lifeless on the couch for ten long seconds:
Jake: Oh shut, Lucy June. I think he's really dead.

>> 3 <<

After biting his cheek:
Jake: I accidentally ate myself.

>> 4 <<

Overheard from the other room:
Jake: OK, Lucy, this is gonna hurt a little bit.

>> 5 <<

Jake: It's deleeeeeeeeeecious.
Me: What's deleeecious?
Jake: Deleeeecious is so so happy it's Mary tickling Jesus in your heart.
(Hashtag catechesis)

>> 6 <<

After introducing him to his little brother, Roman John:
Jake: (disappointed)...oh...I thought we were going to name him El Tio.

>> 7 <<

Jake: The other day on Nana Suzie and Opie's porch, we heard a sound like a squeaky toy, so I went ta go see what it was. I said it was a snake, but Papa said snakes don't squeak. But it was a snake eating a frog whole. He was swallowing it. And there was another frog literally watching the scene while his brother got ate.

And that, my friends, is a true story. I can verify all of it except the family status of the frogs.

Pics from The Rock where Jacob took little Jake camping and fed him bacon, chocolate, and marshmallows for breakfast.

(Jake: But mostly just chocolate and marshmallows)

Linking up with Kelly for ole times sake.