This Kid

I have this one kid that broke the mold. I don't want to embarrass him by saying his name or anything, but I'm telling you, I don't think there is any way to classify him. He's like all the energy of an atomic bomb coiled up inside this tiny body, brimming with creativity and intellect and more energy intermingled with testosterone. He's a wild child.

The kid can't focus for more than about thirty seconds. I mean, he can when we make him; I had to get him through kindergarten for mercy sakes, but with full efficiency, he cannot focus. If you call me, you'll hear me tell him to wait till I get off the phone to talk to me. To stop interrupting me. To go play. To back up. To stop interrupting. To go play. You'll have to wait. *exasperated sigh* Go to your room until I am off the phone. I mean, it depends on how long we've been talking, but if it's more than about two minutes, you'll hear at least the first two. Yesterday he told me that he didn't like this one teacher at church because when he answered the question with "water" all the kids laugh. He said, "Because water is good for you, Mom." But I couldn't honestly say I wouldn't have laughed. I know because when we do devotions at the end of each day and we are all answering a question like, "If you could ask God anything what would it be?" Tre might say, "That we all get to sleep tonight," not having heard the question or any of the six other answers given, he assumes we're taking prayer requests. If not that he answers, "Jesus!" the all inclusive Sunday school answer. He just has a hard time keeping his head in the game.

As a parent, I am obliged to give courtesy chuckles and smiles when my kids test out their humor on the stage, which means for an audience and we always have one around here. I don't give a hearty laugh unless it is sincerely funny because I believe in life conditioning. I remember the satisfaction of getting the real deal from my parents and I want to pass that on to my budding comedic clan. A couple of months ago I made a critical error in judgment in not concealing a laugh during an episode of Spongebob. Since then, I have been summoned to the television countless times to watch some random Bikini Bottom moment that might trigger my interest and produce a laugh. Unfortunately I was delirious that day and not fully able to reason. In the state of stability wherein I currently reside, Spongebob just isn't that funny. This kid, however, is.

While I was working nights to put Dale through school, he spent lots of weekends making memories with the kids. One night they were sitting on the porch playing "I get that one" with the cars that passed by on Main Street and Dale told this kid that the next one was the Monkey Truck coming to pick him up. Poor dude, still moderately terrified of Oobie, that hand puppet that used to be on Nick Jr, was convinced that he was a monkey and that the monkey truck would be coming to pick him up and cart him off with the rest of the monkeys. He has turned terror into triumph and now prides himself on being a monkey. Most recently he created this bizarre monkey sound that he makes randomly throughout the day. For whatever reason I crack up every time he does it. With that in mind, I began this blog today. Unfortunately I don't have a single battery to juice up my camera and play the monkey noise for the rest of the world. I did, however, find this which is equally as entertaining to me. I've watched it six times since I loaded it and I am still laughing about it. And if for no one else, Sarah, this one's for you.

La-la-la-la life goes on

It could be that she's the last and I'm certain of it, or maybe it's just that I have nothing else to do around here but be the mommy, but I am starting to love my life again. Seriously, I feel like a woman possessed when pregnancy hormones take me over. I know it's bad when I'm in the thick of it because of the trail of tears that follows my every move, but it's when I start feeling like myself again that I realize how miserable I truly am as a pregnant woman.

Deisha is a little fussy, but it could be because there are two little tooth buds peeking through her bottom gum already. The reflux doesn't help either, but we're surviving. We're more than surviving, we're adjusting to life again. Dale and I are back to walking everyday, which makes a huge impact on my perspective. I am also starting to crave knowledge again. That may sound really bizarre, but when I'm pregnant, I become so self-consumed that I can't work on any of the disciplines that I really value. Case in point, before I got pregnant with Leila I was learning Greek, reading a couple of classic novels a month, and had almost memorized the whole book of Philippians. I felt rich. Then once I got pregnant, all bets were off. I took to Pepsi, Reese's Peanut Butter cups, and General Hospital to pass my time at work.

At any rate being on the tail end of the whole post-partum production, craving a good book and something to roll around in my head from memory gives me hope that the real me is still alive and well, regardless of the hormonally forced hibernation therein. Look out world, I'm back!

I don't know if he had puppies

or what, but Scooder lost fifteen pounds. I can't remember if I blogged about this, but we thought we were going to lose Scooder shortly after we moved here. He had some sort of a decline, started packing on weight, became extremely lethargic, and I was convinced he wasn't going to the bathroom. At one point he stopped eating and drinking and laid down on the couch for what I thought was the end. I sat with him, counting respirations and checking for a pulse. (What can I say, I'm a CNA at heart. HAhahahaha)

We took him to the vet the next day where they x-rayed him, pumped him full of fluids, and sent him home with a ridiculous bill. He stayed fat for a while and acted like he was decrepit every time he crept up into his pet bed, which is essentially an over sized pillow. I worried until we took him on a walk off the leash the first time and he ran around like a puppy. He skipped hither and fro with his tail up marking every inch of the mile.

Since he wasn't eating any more than usual and still hanging on to the weight, I was sure he had cancer. Being the sensitive mother that I am, I tried to forewarn Kennedy, who would have taken the hardest hit if he did die. When I explained my reasoning, she weighed him and put him on a diet, which is how we know that in the weeks following he managed to lose fifteen pounds.

The other night I noticed that his stomach was no longer bloated, but rather hanging loosely. I told her I thought he looked better so she stuck him on the scale. It's just amazing to me how different he looks. He's a little dog, you know? I mean, fifteen pounds on me isn't incredibly remarkable, but it makes a difference. So on a little dog... it's just bizarre-o. Such is life.

Back in the Swing

I didn't know how long I'd be out of commission, I still don't. People keep saying, "I thought you'd be an old pro by now." Which makes sense because six times I've brought a new baby home. Once I brought a baby home to three other toddlers, and then moved out of state that same month. But for some reason, I'm all out of sorts and feel like it's all new, uncharted territory.


A lot of things have are different this time. Being across the country from all of our relatives is probably the biggest thing; I can't tell you how weird it was not to have my sister in the waiting room of the hospital, and knowing she wouldn't be here for weeks following. Another thing is that Dale has two full days in a row off from work every week, and when he gets home from work he's not running to another job or studying for any tests. Also I'm not working, that's awesome. And probably the biggest thing is that I don't have a life outside these walls, which works both sides. My stress levels are remarkably low with school being completed for the year and knowing that for the rest of the summer, I can pretty much stay home all the time if I want to. There's nothing driving me to get out the door or hurry up and get to bed. That, my friend, is freedom.

I mean, I'm sure the kids would enjoy being in clubs and sports and having things to do, but I didn't when I was a kid. We had church stuff, and usually played softball or something, but most of my summer consisted of watching TV, swimming in the horse tank in our backyard, and living outside. I loved it. I relished the freedom. For the rest of my life, I'll never have that kind of free time. What's wrong with that? My kids deserve a few summers of leisure before they start working and throwing themselves headlong into sports and various activities of their choosing. Their so little now, I think it's awesome that they still fuss when we have to go to the grocery store because they want to be out in the neighborhood and at the park and hunting lizards. They are the life of the party and they don't even know it! They don't see the neighbor kids fussing when we have to go to the store, either, but I know. I remember those days.

Our lives are moving nice and slowly right now, and I'm rather enjoying it.

Missing you

and you, and you,and you,and you two, and you, and you,
and you, and you,
and you, and you.
But I've still got
her, and him,and them,

so I'll be alright.

Moments

Every time I come into this little room, I think about writing something and then I'm whisked away in the next second to one of my many duties here and tell myself I'll write soon and that you all understand.

Let me just say, this is way harder than I thought it was going to be; not when I read that our miracle was on it's way on that little stick in the bathroom ten months ago, I knew it'd be hard then. But when I gallantly told you all that we were planning to have six kids when it was all said and done, I didn't anticipate the gravity of that reality. I mean, we've had a baby in almost every difficult circumstance that our lives could possibly produce, so aside from being eight million miles from home, things are relatively stable this time and I thought it would be a little more simple than this. I mean, God has placed us right where He wanted us with Dale's career, we have great insurance, I am not working so I can be here with the baby, our school program is extremely flexible which means if we have to work the weekends, we can... all things considered, it should have been more simple than this.

The baby isn't fussy or demanding most of the time, but for stints of the day, every day, she wants me all to herself for a few hours together. That's when I start to feel panicked. When the floor is covered with random pieces of Leila's clothing and a few toys, there is trash just out of my reach, and the dining room table needs to be cleaned off by an adult after the meal, that's when I start to wonder how I'm going to juggle all of this.

And then I remember just to do one thing at a time, the next most pressing thing, and once I get that done I gotta do the next thing. With that said, it's getting better. But it's still tough and I am not nice yet, so add the guilt of outbursts throughout the day to the hustle to get things done while she is quiet, I don't know. It's going to be like this for a while.

I will say that having familiar faces in my house for the past few weeks has made my perspective a little less skewed. My mom and dad were here for a week and then my brother was here for a day and my sister just went home today. Dale's parents will be here soon... It has really taken the edge off our achy hearts, especially in this really critical time.

Thank you for hanging in there with me. I am hoping to do some writing of substance soon, but no deadlines yet. More pictures next week!!!

One Last Time

I can't shake the feeling of relief I have every time I look at this baby. I am so relieved that I will never have to endure the difficulties of pregnancy, labor, delivery, and the wonder of postpartum recovery. I must sound like a broken record to my family, because every morning I wake up and think, "I am one day closer to being myself again." And with that, maybe staying myself for a while... But at the same time, I have this overwhelming sense of relief that God entrusted to us one more life, that I will get to hold this tiny bundle of life in my arms and watch her tiny face experience the world as new everyday. I might not have decided to go ahead with number six if He hadn't surprised us with her. And I was so worried about what life would be like with another girl, but now it seems so natural. God knew we needed her and that she needed us. And He gave her a real sturdy set of lungs to make sure that she can be heard no matter what kind of chaos is taking place inside these four walls.
I adore her; she is such a miracle. And I'm surviving; I know some of you are wondering. It's a moment-by-moment journey that I cannot guarantee, in any regard, any sense of normalcy. But I don't have to because my life only demands the minimum of me right now, and I can oblige that much. I still haven't had a good cry, but it will come; wait, I can pretty much guarantee that, and most likely at the most inopportune time. Mostly right now I'm grateful that we have food in the freezer and the baby is resting in her little basket happily. There's a lot of work to do, and I could really use a donut and a cup of coffee, but I'll settle for graham crackers if it means I don't have to leave my refuge for another day or two.

Reflections

I should have waited for a few years to have babies... I know you can't undo your life, and we do the best we can for what we know in our youth, but if there was just one thing I could roll time back and redo, I'd have to change my methods of parenting right from the get-go.

After number three, I started telling people I was going to journal my life with my new baby and publish it: the way I set up a baby on a schedule, the feedings, the sleeping, the resolve to let the baby sleep alone. I thought I really had it together; that should have been my first clue.

I can't remember what it was like for me the first few days out of the hospital- out of five times, I don't remember anything about those first few weeks except crying a lot and watching every minute pass on the clock while I was nursing.

With Leila, I did some research on the wise and all-knowing Internet and found that my methods were not only discouraged by real doctors, pediatricians, but those very things I founded my practice on were harmful to the baby. I tried to let her cry for a few nights, but the knot in my stomach drove me to this research, which said that if you try to train a baby to go to sleep on it's own too early, it can be extremely frightening for the child and have lasting repercussions. Not only that, but a baby is not capable of manipulation in those early months so spoiling is not even in their ballpark. Crying is a baby's only method of communication so when the cry is not responded to, it gives them a very real sense of abandonment. It was a difficult reality for me and I cried and cried over the months of agony I put my other babies through.

Armed with this new information, Leila survived infant-hood without having to scream herself to sleep and goes to her own bed on her own every night, and stays there all night long. She's the first one with that I can say that about. The other kids go to bed and for the most part stay there, but even as school-aged children I can see the ripple effect from my choices way back then.

When I brought Deisha home, I felt like a new parent. My old methods were clearly not an option and I had never tried any other ways so I felt a little lost our first night. What I decided was that rather then force my rule that my kids would never sleep in our bed, I would just give her what she needed. So I put her next to me, fed her when she woke up, and we had a simple, quiet night. I didn't sleep very hard, but I slept.

I've continued to do this every night and I can't believe it; already shes more settled when I put her down, she is nursing perfectly, and I don't feel any resentment about feeding or not sleeping. Somehow it's going much more smoothly than any time before. And it makes sense, I mean, here is this tiny baby that has been in my womb, and almost immediately, before, I would try to establish this routine to promote my re-entry to independence, to insure that my life is convenient. But really, this little one needs food much more often than every three hours, and she needs to feel the assurance of my presence close by. Why would I sacrifice that for predictability??? I don't know... it must be part of life, learning to own up to your mistakes and accept what's best in exchange for what seems easier.

We've got a baby!

Deisha Hazel Raine Sutton arrived at 9:02 Monday morning.
She weighed 7 pounds 9 ounces, 20 inches long, decible of cry- off the charts. More to come...

P.S.

I am so in love with him.