Each Child Is Different

Baby Planning
First Child:  Let's stop using birth control and see what happens
Second Child: Let's check with the calendar and plan
Third Child: Birth control? Calendar? Who has time for that stuff?

The Ultrasound
First Child: I wonder what we're having.
Second Child: Do we have to go clothes shopping or can we use his brother's clothes?
Third Child: Oh, thank GOD it's just one baby in there.  I don't care if it's a boy or a girl: it's just ONE. Yes, my doctor thought my third was twins.

Getting Ready for Baby
First Child: Read all the baby books, had four baby showers, got everything together, and worried
Second Child: Diaper shower, double stroller ready to go, and worried
Third Child: Huh, I wonder how we'll fit all these kids in our vehicles. Hmmm. Who has time to worry?

The Delivery
First Child: Got to the hospital ready to push. There for less than an hour before baby was born. No time for drugs.  Hurt like nothing I've ever felt.
Second Child: Got to the hospital with two hours to spare. Time for a little bit of drugs. Still hurt like hell, but not as bad as first.
Third Child: Induced so I didn't deliver him on the side of the road. Epidural. Bliss. Easiest delivery of the three, by far.

The Hospital Stay
First Child: Wanted visitors, but didn't want to let go of my baby.  In no rush to go home.
Second Child:  Let people hold the baby. Worried about his big brother at home.
Third Child: Just wanted to go home. 36 hour mark came and we hurried home.

The First Week
First Child:  OMG, why didn't anyone tell me how hard this was? And why does breastfeeding feel like glass being sucked out of my nipples? And why doesn't this baby sleep? Lots of tears.
Second Child: Wow, a newborn who can sleep. This is cool. Put him in the baby carrier and let's go.
Third Child: Oh, look at the cute baby. When I'm not too busy, I'll stop and cuddle him.

The Milestones
First Child:  Is this normal?  Checking the books and asking his doctor to make sure everything is okay. Recording all milestones with photos and written documentation.
Second Child:  Wait, is he doing things when his brother did? Is everything okay? Is this normal?
Third Child: Eh, whatever. He'll get it all eventually.

To my dear third child, my Cub:
yes, we were more laidback with you than we were with your brothers. We'd learned what is worth worrying about and what isn't.  You are the last to do everything and we aren't in a hurry to rush you to hit those milestones.  That grin of yours lets you get away with things we'd never let your brothers get away with, not even when they were your age. I see why the baby of the family is treated like the baby of the family. And we adore you! Happy third birthday!

Newborn Cub

My big boy

Pour Your Heart Out: A Birthday Glass

If you need more info about Pour Your Heart Out, see THIS post.

But, really, it's anything that YOU consider pouring your heart out.

Be sure to check out some of the links- you will find some amazing stories out there.

Again, just a brief reminder that everyone linking is pouring their hearts out and we should all be respectful in our comments. ;)

 <a href="http://thingsicantsay-shell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/pouryourheartout.jpg" /></a>

Dear Monkey,


this weekend, you turn 6. Six. How did that happen? I still remember the day you were born like it was yesterday.


It has to be hard to be the oldest of three. There wasn't a very long time when you were the only child. When you were a baby, you HATED sleep. And only slept for 1.5-2 hours at a time until you were almost 6 months old. You must have thought your mama was crazy because I was often upset. It was the sleep-deprivation that did it.


You eventually slept better, though, THANK GOD. By the time you were 8 months old, we knew you were going to be a big brother. Even though we wanted it that way, I was still sad to think that you wouldn't be my only baby any more. Don't tell your brother, but I remember rocking you shortly before he was born and crying because I knew I'd miss those moments with just you and me.


You started climbing over the furniture shortly after that(which is how you got your nickname of "Monkey") and could run around by the time you were 10 months old.


Right before you were 17 months old, your younger brother was born. I'm sorry, my sweet boy, for how Mommy expected you to be a big boy then. You couldn't be carried and I expected you to listen to me and be good while Mommy took care of the baby. And you did. But, I'm sorry that you weren't allowed to continue being a baby for longer than that.


About a month later, you started speaking in sentences. Before you were even 2 years-old, you could hold complete conversations with people. You started speaking in essay-form. I don't know whether to apologize for not realizing that this was highly unusual or to be glad that I didn't know any better. If I had known how unusal that was, I might have been one of those obnoxious, bragging mothers. But, now I understand why others would give you weird looks when you could talk to them like that.


Everything seemed to come so easily to you. You loved adventure and trying new things.


You became a big brother again when you were 3.5 and took it all in stride. Shortly after that, you went to day camp. In the woods. Four hours a day for two weeks. I look at your younger brothers and think that there is no way that they could do that at that age. But, you were up for it.


Starting preschool was a breeze for you. Even when we had to move a year later, you loved the excitement and the beach.


You've made the transition to kindergarten so easily, too. I remember when you were a baby, thinking you would be starting in 2010 and that seemed so far away. But, now, you're almost halfway through kindergarten and on your way to being a first grader.


Time passes so quickly.


You are the child who is most like me. It's probably why we butt heads so often. We're both so strong-willed and stubborn. I love you so much and hope that you don't hate me for the disagreements we get into you. Even Daddy will listen to you, shake his head, look at me and say "He's so your child."


Daddy and I are harder on you than on your brothers. We go easier on Bear because there is much he doesn't understand and he was so sick that we constantly worry about him. And Cub is the baby of the family. It's not fair to you, I know. But, then again, I don't think you would tolerate us treating you like a baby anyway.


To my bright, sweet, stubborn, first-born, Happy 6th Birthday. I love you.

-Mommy

A Birth Story (Not Graphic, I Promise)

Wednesday, December 8th, 2004:
I am ginormously pregnant with my first baby. Have to make it through this week, plus two days of teaching next week and one teacher workday before it is Christmas break. Baby is due on the 20th, but doctor keeps saying that I could have a Christmas baby or asking if I want to induce on the 31st if the baby isn't here yet.


Uncomfortable. Only a few of my maternity clothes still fit. Wearing slippers at school and glaring at anyone who would dare to suggest that I can't.


End of grading period standardized testing going on. Pissed that my assistant got taken away to help in another classroom with testing. This means I must go almost 5 hours without being able to go to the bathroom. Worried that pissed might be more than just an expression.


Standardized testing ends after 2 hours. Assistant Principal walks in right then. I think he's there to collect my testing material, but he is there to observe me teaching. I glare and tell him my students just got done with two hours of testing- I was just going to give them a break. He tells me this is fine, but I know it's not. So, I subject my poor fifth graders to a math lesson.


Meet with AP after school to go over my evaluation. Start off the meeting by informing him, "I have NEVER received any comments in 'areas of improvement' and if you wrote anything in that box, I will be writing a rebuttal and filing it with the county office." Smart man has nothing but kind words to say about my teaching.


Thursday, December 9th, 2004:
Go into work and decide that this is all a bunch of crap and that tomorrow will be my last day. I'm too uncomfortable and tired to be working. Besides, we had just moved that weekend- it would be nice to be able to get unpacked before the baby comes.


Inform Principal of this decision. She's not happy that she will have to find a sub for the two days before Christmas break. Tells me I must have a doctor's note. Completely irritated because this is not true. I have the leave days, I can take them if I want.


Go to the doctor's office and tell them I need a note stating that I'm about due and that I will not be working any more. Receptionist rolls her eyes at the situation, but helps me out.


Friday, December 10th, 2004
Triumphantly plunk that note onto the Principal's desk. Stay after school until 5pm to get everything ready for next week.


Jump(literally jump) around Sam's Club as Hubs and I browse and I say I'm tired of being pregnant. Go to a late dinner. Then to the 10pm showing of Ocean's Twelve. Fall fast asleep and don't see more than the first 10 minutes of the movie.


Then home to bed. Practically cry because Hubs bought us a new bed and it's too high for my pregnant self to easily get in or out of. Fall asleep quickly.


Saturday December 11th, 2004
Wake up at three am, feeling ill. Won't describe it, but let's just say I was in the bathroom and it wasn't pretty. Can't get comfortable. Drag a chair into the bathroom. Having contractions, but never anything regular.


7am: decide that this hurts and I don't care that the contractions aren't regular, it hurts so bad that I need to go to the hospital NOW. Wake Hubs. He thinks he needs to shower first. We try to get things ready for the hospital. No clue why this all takes so damn long or why we thought we needed to do any of it. Only live about 10 minutes from the hospital, less than that at this time of day.


I am making these primitive, instinctive grunting noises. In so much pain. Notice that Hubs is going the back way to the hospital. I dig my nails into his arm and tell him he can't go that way. There are speedbumps that way and this baby will come out if we go over the speedbumps. Scare Hubs. Even more than he already is.


8:20: Being pushed in a wheelchair to a delivery room. Still not officially registered at the hospital and will not be until after my baby is born. Nurse telling me to stop making those noises, stop pushing. I beg for drugs.


Am checked. Fully dilated. Too late for anything to help with the pain. But, they do give me pitocin to make the contractions regular.


9am: Doctor arrives, breaks my water. Tells me to push.


9:11am: My oldest son is born. He is the most perfect thing I've ever laid eyes on.


My world is changed forever.

My Best Friend

No, this isn't BFF: Blog Friend Feature. That, you will find here tomorrow.


I'm talking about my best friend.


Do you have one?


Someone who you can tell everything to?


And I do mean everything.


The stupid things that you've done, the times you've really messed up- even the times you really messed up but aren't really even sorry about.


Your secret hopes and fears that you think anyone else would roll their eyes at if you told them.


Who would never tell anyone your secrets.


Someone you can safely have an emotional breakdown in front of, or call sobbing on the telephone and she listens.


Who doesn't judge and usually ends up making you feel better and laugh, no matter what is going on.


Someone who you know will be there anytime you need her and will tell you to shush when you feel bad about having to ask for any kind of help(like watching all three of your kids on short notice when she has two of her own). Because she's your best friend, so of course she will help you out.


A best friend who you could just drop by her house without notice(until you move 600 miles away).


A best friend who gets you.


Who knows when you are being sarcastic or serious without you having to tell her.


Who knows what your insecurities are and will always stick up for you.


Who knows the real you.


A best friend who will always be there, without a doubt.


A best friend who you always will be there for, too, even if you kind of suck like I do sometimes and do stupid stuff like not get her birthday card in the mail in time.


So,  to my very best friend in the whole world: Happy Birthday. I hope you know just how much you mean to me. I miss you and am sorely tempted to toss the boys in the minivan and drive up to spend today with you. I know we're not usually over gushy, but I couldn't help it today. I hope that you have a fabulous birthday! Love you! (insert sarcastic gay comments from my husband here)


I'm turning comments off. Please go wish my best friend Angie @ In My Own Little Corner a happy birthday!

No More Babies in This House

The first time that I saw that double line show up telling me I was going to have my first little baby, I was a little surprised, even though we'd been trying. I didn't think it would happen that quickly.


The second time I saw that double line, I wasn't shocked at all. After all, the day before, I had decided that I wanted a huge glass of milk and chugged it down. I never want milk unless I'm pregnant. So, I barely glanced at the stick: I knew what it would say.


But, with my third, I looked at the double line and thought This thing must be broken. And so I did another test. Hmmm, this pack must be defective.


And so I bought a different brand and tried again the next morning. Okay, I guess I'm really pregnant.


We weren't trying at the time. We also weren't doing anything to prevent a pregnancy, so we weren't not trying either. Three or four kids was always our plan.


But, I had also just returned to work (part-time) for the first time in almost three years. Which is how I justify not realizing that I'd actually missed two periods by the time that I took a pregnancy test. I tried to insist that I'd just missed one- which led my OB to think that perhaps I was carrying twins since I was measuring big.


When we found out Cub was only one baby, just due about a month or so sooner than I thought, I was relieved. I had been panicking at the thought of having four children under the age of four. Three under four was scary enough.


Cub's birth was the easiest of the three. Since my other two had been born very quickly and we were living 45+ minutes away from the hospital, I was induced with him and given a blessed epidural, unlike my first which was natural and my second where there was enough time to give me a little something, but, nothing like the epidural, which allowed me to be a lot calmer than with my other two.


It was two years ago today that my little Cub was born. Why do I call him Cub? Because of all that hair! He looked just like a baby bear.  Look at my cute little newborn.

And months passed quickly....

And in a blink of an eye, he was one:

And I vowed not to blink any more.

But, somehow, my baby is now 2.

If you ask him how old he is, he tells you THREE. I try to correct him and tell him TWO, but he insists that he is three already.

And with that, I realized that I don't have any more babies in my house. That they are all growing up so quickly. The baby gear and clothes are slowly all making their way out the door.

There will be no more pregnancy tests with double lines in this house, no more anticipation of a new baby's arrival. No more first smile, first time rolling over, first time sitting up, first crawl, first spitting out of baby food, first step, first sleeping through the night, first word.

Now, it's lasts. Last firsts. The last time that I get to see one of my babies hit a milestone for the first time.

I think I understand why the baby of the family is forever treated like, well, a baby.

So, my dear Cub, I know you want to grow up quickly and be able to do all that your big brothers can do, but please forgive Mommy for wanting to keep you as a baby for a little while longer.

Because you are my last baby. Happy 2nd Birthday, Cub!

Four Years....

Four years ago today, my Bear was born.

He was the sweetest little newborn. I would actually wake up in the middle of the night to check on him because he was such a good sleeper. Don't hate me-, my oldest was the world's worst sleeper.

He was the smiliest, happiest, most content baby.

If he was tired, he would just fall asleep wherever we were.

No fussing.

He often got dragged all over the place because his older brother(older by just short of 17 months) was on the go. Bear never complained.

He took his very first step exactly on his first birthday.

His smiles melted my heart...still do.

Btw, we actually called him "Little Bear." I've dropped the "little" since then, at least on my blog.

My baby turned 2...and became a big brother about 2 weeks later.

He was still a sweet little boy, but we did start to worry about him, since he wasn't hitting milestones when he should.

Here he is on his third birthday:

Shortly after that, we found out that he was sick and that explained a lot of the delays that he had.

Bear had us worried for quite a while.

Our sweet boy.

He's healed a lot in the past year.

He's our smiley, happy, loving Bear.

When I go in to check on him before I go to bed, I always kiss him and say "I love you."

Without even waking up, he murmers back, "I love you, too, Mommy."

He is a mama's boy:  He loves the beach and occasionally needs time alone. Oh, does he have a temper. But, he also cries when someone around him is hurting.

He gives the best hugs.

Have I mentioned that smile?

Happy 4th birthday to my Little Bear!

*****

The Baby Contest ends at 5pm EST TODAY! Please, please, please(yes, I'm begging), go vote for Bear's little brother Mason. No registration required. Quick and easy voting. Thanks so much! Vote HERE

The birthday party grinch's heart grows ten sizes

I must admit that I was a bit of an obnoxious birthday party grinch back when my oldest was about to turn one.

I knew other people had huge first birthday party blowouts, but I wanted nothing to do with anything like that.

I called it silly to spend all that money and to have such a huge party when the 1 year-old won't remember it and will probably be miserable during it.

Monkey would have been miserable anyway. When he was one, he did not particularly care for people. A big crowd would have freaked him out.

So, I was a bit smug and annoying with my views on birthdays.

For his second birthday, he did have one friend there in addition to family. They ran around the house and had themselves a good time.

I did think about having a big party at that time, but Hubs had just lost his job and we were living in a small place, so it was more of a matter of being practical at that point.

Then came Bear's first birthday.

He loved people, so we had a bigger party for him. I think there were something like 18 kids running around our house at the time(we'd moved by that point, too).

Okay, so I guess I get why people celebrate like that. Nothing wrong with it.

Birthdays since then: 2 at a kids' gym, 1 at build-a-bear(sounds crazy, but it was actually the easiest AND cheapest birthday party we've ever had, at least counting the ones where the kids had more than 1 friend there), and 1 party at home where we had the gym-bus come to us, all with around 15-20 kiddos there.

The boys have had a blast at their parties.

They start planning early for them, with where they want their party, who they want to be there, and what kind of cake they will have.

I don't feel like it's crazy to have big parties for them when they are so little.

It's more than a little embarrassing when I think about just how outspoken I was on how wrong I thought it was to have birthday parties like this.

I actually feel super guilty right now because Monkey had been planning his fifth birthday party for seven months now. He knew where he would have it(one of those bounce places) and all the other details.

And I was okay with that because it's his fifth, a big deal.

But, we moved a month and a half before his birthday.

And he only started preschool two weeks ago.

So, trying to plan a big shebang for him was hard.

We just had a family party...

But, I'm still considering letting him have a belated birthday party in January and invite his friends from preschool to that.

It's ironic how I can go from a being the birthday party grinch to someone who feels guilty for not having one.