Mother's Intuition

Mother's intuition is a wonderful thing. I don't know how it works, but I do know why: God loves our children even more than we do. And since He knows them better than we can, every once in a while He throws us a tip in the form of a nudge, an inkling, or just a gnawing something that won't let go until we nail it down.

One of four felt strawberries.

Fourteen years of mothering has taught me not to let go of those little somethings. Fourteen years of parenting has taught me that doctors, family members, and professionals don't and can't hear from the Lord in the same way that I do regarding my children.


So really, it wasn't a shock when the initial testing we had done regarding some slightly funky stuff with Seven came back a little cloudy. And it wasn't too strange to me when the next round of tests brought some odd news. See, I've felt in my gut since forever, that somehow this amazingly strong, sweet, bright little girl had some hint of fragility. I couldn't put a finger on it. And I certainly couldn't name it. But there it was. Mother's intuition. 


Seven is allergic to (wait for it) plastic. Yes, plastic. That most ubiquitous of materials, the most versatile component, that kid-friendly everything: plastic. 

Felt cookies.

We don't yet know which kinds specifically, or what exactly this means. All we know is that the less of it we can manage to have in our home, the healthier our little girl will be. Which is, of course, no small task. Sippy cups. Action figures. Doll faces. Shatter-proof dishes. The high chair.   All plastic. 


We started a sweep this week. All non-Seven friendly toys have been escorted upstairs, to the boys' room. I didn't have the heart to force Oli to give up his Little People collection, or to make Mani abandon his love of Duplos. Instead, we're reworking how we use our space. Bedrooms have historically been sleep quarters and little else around here, but that's changing as we ask ourselves how we can give the other kids access to the toys they adore and still keep Seven breathing happy.

Felt watermelon.

A sweet family gave us an adorable, all-wood booster chair that puts Seven right at the table with us. We've been on the hunt for a safe travel cup for our girly, and have started teaching her to drink only from a regular glass at home. I've been on a felt food rampage, replacing the bucket of plastic play food that was, until it was suddenly off-limits, was in constant use around here from sun-up to sun-down.


We're learning. Adapting. Figuring things out. Because that's what we do, isn't it? Life throws us a curveball and we, the clay jars that have been entrusted to nurture and care for these precious souls, we get on with it. We absorb the new norm and put our foot to the path, knowing that God saw all this coming ... and cared enough to let us in on part of the story.