This morning, I began by questioning the siblings about how much water Lil' Wingnut had drunk the night before. They all reassured me he hadn't drunk very much, and that they had taken him to the bathroom before he went to sleep. So, being the worry wart mother that I am, I went online searching for reasons our three year old was peeing so much and so frequently. As I read through the symptoms of Type 1 diabetes, Lil' Wingnut came strolling through the living room with a baby bottle in his hands. One of our teens had brought it home from a youth group event and apparently 100% breastfed Lil' Wingnut was fascinated with it. I asked him if he'd been drinking water from it. He smirked and nodded his head. I then showed the bottle to his sisters and asked how much he'd drunk from it last night. Apparently, he drank at least 14 ounces of water right before bed. The imp.
This is the plight of motherhood in a nutshell; a child's problem may have the simplest of explanations, but we cannot help worrying and imagining the absolute worst. No one told me how many sleepless nights I'd have fretting over my babies. Well, I was told, but I didn't believe it. Who knew love could be so stressful?