The fourth child syndrome

While I don't have a baby book for Eliza (for either of my last two kids, actually) I do have these.  I imagine its probably a better option than me forgetting to write in her baby book anyway. 

 

A year

Its amazing how quickly a year can go by.  (It always seems so much faster when the kids are really little.  Maybe because they change so much in a year?)

 

 

From this:

 

 

To this:

 

Inside, night time pictures are never good.  I'm glad I got a few earlier in the day.

Guys, this girl.  She melts me heart.

slight birthday depression

I'm normally nostalgic around birthdays.  Especially first birthdays.  But, y'all, Eliza's birthday is coming up in 2 days and I'm almost bordering on depressed.  I mean, I am glad she's alive, thriving, and turning one (obviously) but I've just been so sad.

I'm sure its a mixture of lots of things.

Isaac stopped sucking his fingers after his accident.  It seems so grown up.  Its sad.  He's growing up.  Which means Eliza WILL grow up.  She's likely our last baby.  When I think on that, I think about all of our babies that we'll never get to celebrate birthdays with. 

Its a downward spiral into an emotional pit.

So, for once in several months, I'd like for my baby's birthday just to hurry up and get here already.  So I can get over this funk.

See you Thursday.

Tracy

He has me in stiches

Zeke's ankle bracelet



Saturday evening, we had to make our second, ever, E.R. visit. (Unfortunately, it was for the same child. He had a concussion before.)

We were heading to Grandma's house for dinner. Isaac asked to wear his Cars jammies. I mean, it was almost dinner time, we were just going to grandma's house, and he'd be changing into his jammies there soon anyway. Why not let him wear p.j.s?

Well, it turns out that we did make another stop. As we were getting everything/one loaded into the van, Isaac climbed up into his seat, as usual. He leaned over the edge to look at something (we think here. Not really sure.) and he fell out of his seat, out of the van, onto the garage floor. He bit all the way through his lip.

Now, as it happens, E and I weren't standing right there. I was getting food, diapers, etc. for Eliza in the house. E was loading up the back of the van. All of a sudden, I hear E yell my name. He yelled it in such a way that I knew some body had to go to the hospital. He brought in a screaming Zeke, completely covered in blood. (Y'all, it was so much blood. All over my sweet babies face, shirt and hands.)

I quickly grabbed a wet towel to put pressure on it. After I held it there for a second, I lifted up the now very bloody rag (which, of course, was a stark white burp cloth of Eliza's. oh well. She took one for the team.) and saw how bad it really was.

Thankfully, the other three kids were already buckled in their seats, waiting to go to grandma's. We rushed to the brand new E.R. right around the corner (which, in hindsight, we should've gone to the ped's E.R. Its a longer drive, but usually a shorter wait. Plus, much better for kiddos.) They sort of freaked when they saw blood all over him. We hadn't taken the time to clean him up. I just put pressure on it, drove with me sitting next to him keeping pressure on it. I hadn't even thought of the blood elsewhere.

We then proceeded to wait for 3.5 hours. Through out the course of the 3.5 hours, Isaac kept a diaper (cloth) pressed up against his lip. (He said the pressure made it feel better.) He was mostly calm, snugly, unless he had to take the pressure off for a nurse/orderly/doctor to check his lip. Then, it would start bleeding again, and he'd start crying again.  

 



 

At one point, he even got up and played with the sand table.  It didn't last long, however, because he couldn't do much with one hand.  When he let go to try to slide the critters over, he started screaming again.

 

Thankfully, my IL's came and got O and A right away.  They ate dinner at their house.  Eliza hung with us for a while.  E was chasing after her while I snuggled Zeke.  After hour 3, we had them stop by the hospital to pick up Eliza (after I nursed her) and take them all to our house to go to bed.  

 



 



 

 

One of the hardest times in my parenting career previously was watching a very tiny, and very dehydrated, O get an I.V. They couldn't find a vein and it was very rough.  Watching Zeke get his stitches was right up there with that, guys.  I was secretly balling inside.  They swaddled him in a blanket, then removed his diaper (which he kept screaming "I need my rag!!") then they held him down while the dr. injected the litocain into his wide-open lip.  It was terrible.  There was blood every where (since it started bleeding like crazy again when they took off the diaper.) he was swallowing it, and they just kept sticking him with the needle. 

 

The actual stitches went much better, but they covered his eyes.  He kept calling out for E and I, and we kept reassuring him that we were there, touching his knee/foot/leg, etc.  

After all of that was finished, all he could concentrate on was the strings in his lip.  He kept begging us to take them out.  That was when the nurse took him to pick out a Popsicle. (hurrah!) 

When we got home, he had some apple sauce and crashed. (by then, it was 9:30.) 

 

 

 

The day after:

 

He doesn't seem to mind the stitches much now.  The hardest part has been his inability to suck his fingers for comfort.  He's having a really hard time falling, and staying, asleep.  So, he's extra tired, and he can't even comfort himself when he's grumpy/angry/sad/frustrated either. *sigh* 

 

So, that was our Saturday evening.  While it was an adventure, I think I'd rather hang out at home in our jammies next time. 

Experience rules

In my parenthood journey, I've learned there are a few general rules.  I thought it might be helpful to pass that wonderful wisdom on to those naive less experienced parents who have yet to have these delightful rules apply.

1. Never, ever, EVER say "Oh, I'll never do_________" (you fill in the blank with whatever it is you think you'll never do as a parent.)  Guess what?  You almost always do it.  "I'll never sleep with my baby."  "I'll never let my child walk around with a sippy cup"  "I'll never let my baby only wear a diaper and shirt!" (ahem. last one was one of mine.) 

 

 Eliza: Queen of the t-shirt and diaper look.



 

 

2. Related to number one is rule number two.  Don't judge, (other parents) lest you be judged (by other parents).  "My child will NEVER behave like that in the store!"  "Sheesh!  Can't that mom stop her toddler from pushing my toddler down?"  "gosh, that child sure talks to her mom with an attitude for a 5 year old.  she must learn that at home."  Sure, your 9 month old may not be into pushing, tantrum throwing, or attitude talking.  But, trust me, they will grow into those things.  Quicker than you think, too.  Your child will be THAT child, smashing the bread in your grocery cart on purpose because he's mad.  Your child will be mean to other kids at some point.  My, then, 16 month old got into "trouble" at church almost every week for pushing kids down.  She was, by far, the smallest child in the class.  Weighing only 16 lbs.  But, she felt the need to display her dominance (or make up for her short stature.  Who really knows what goes through an 16 mth old's little head.) by pushing much larger kids down to the ground and saying a silent "boo ya!" 

 

 

O: World's smallest bully

 

 



3. Bragging and/or complaining publicly about something your child is doing will result in a negating of such activity.  For example, saying "yes, she does sleep through the night" (even with out "bragging") will likely result in your baby waking up 8 million times the following night.  "My child is potty trained!"  will, in the same manner, produce 15 accidents the next day, or, even more humiliating, a poop accident in his pants 5 minutes later.  (Better yet, is the pooping in the corner in his room a year after being potty trained.)  Reversely, tweeting "my baby won't stop crying!" will probably be the magic trick!  Thus forcing you to type a follow up tweet saying "never mind. #babyisbipolar" 

World's cutest room pooper

4.  The doctor rule:  Your child will be very sick at home.  Running a fever, fussing, and general malaise.  When you arrive at the doctor, with 4 kids in tow,  have paid your co-pay, and your child's fever will miraculously disappear.  she will be all non-sick smiles, flirting with the blond haired boy across the waiting room.  The pediatrician will, consequently, find absolutely nothing wrong with your child.  (Say good-bye to your $25 on your way out the door. )

 

 

Its $25 co-pay each child?!?

5.  Your mom really does know a thing or two about babies.  After all, she had you. So maybe she's not up to date on the current crib recalls, but she knows a thing or two about what babies love.  I remember fervently telling my mom that, under no circumstances, would O be rocked to sleep.  Not even by a visiting Mimi.  When I say no circumstances, I meant it.  Even when my mother was visiting us after I brought O home from the hospital.  As in, O was a teeny tiny newborn, who likely had no idea she was being rocked versus in the car.   (I think I read it in a book that you shouldn't associate sleep with rocking. You know, because books are perfect and all.) My mother, gently, told me how full of crap I was  I'd probably change my mind.  Which, I did.  (Not with O, but by A I was a rocking maniac.)

Zeke: Rock, rock, rocking on Heaven's door

So, there are my top five "rules" of motherhood.  Any more that you'd add? 

So this is happening

 

 

"un"

me:

unhealthy (cold, then tummy bug)
unproductive (see above)
unmotivated (ditto)
unathletic (again, with the above. but, possibly not a word. lol)
uninspired
unclean (mainly because of all of vomit in our house right now)
under weight (okay, maybe not under weight.  but, being sick does have SOME advantages.)
unorganized
undereducated
unprepared


but also:

happy
content
blessed

Its amazing how 3 things can outweigh the lengthy "un" list.