Christmas in July

On Friday, Ruth returned from her three-week camp in NY, and we picked her up in Houston. We then got to spend the weekend with family we haven't seen in far too long, including one member whom we were meeting for the very first time. We also celebrated our sweet niece/cousin's 3rd birthday. Victoria picked a Christmas theme for her July birthday, so we had lots of fun with that. 

Birthday Breakfast

It wasn't hard to tell what these two were actually after!

Victoria and Clay had so much fun playing dress-up

Sweet birthday girl
(Flamingo is her favorite animal, so that's who you see
poking out from behind the Christmas tree.)

A new cousin to love

This Week:

• Ruth was off at "Nana Camp," getting manicures and pedicures, watching movies, going ice skating, playing at the water park, and shop-shop-shopping.
• Our ice machine developed a leak, which will hopefully be repaired next week.
• We attended an event for youth football players, where Weston and Max got their equipment for the upcoming season and also got to run around on the high school football field.
• We acquired a very cute and not-so-friendly kitten, who I have cajoled and chased and tried to keep alive at least long enough for Ruth to get to see it. (I was successful on that last item, by the way).

• Our resident barber (Jeff) gave all the boys great summer haircuts.
• It rained buckets! Glorious, beautiful, much-needed rain. In July. In Texas. It felt like a miracle.
• With the rain, we have also been enjoying temps in the upper 80s. Another Texas July miracle.
• The boys and I attended a three-day CC practicum (basically a homeschool pep rally), where the boys attended camps, and I did everything from getting participants registered to giving the welcome speech to facilitating training courses for some of this year's tutors. It was super-fun and utterly exhausting.
• We attended a dinner party with Jeff's parents and their good friends from Hawaii.
• I hosted a dinner party for all the directors attending the parent practicum.
• Our beautiful new niece/cousin, Victoria Pearl Watts, arrived safely in the world. 

• Clay spent a day seriously contemplating giving up potty training completely.
• I spent a lot of time preparing for the close of CC registration (tomorrow) for this school year by answering a ton of questions, collecting paperwork and tuition and entering everyone's pertinent information in the right places on the computer. 
• Clay got a cool pair of cowboy boots (hand-me-downs from his younger cousin), which he absolutely loves!

• Ruth and I attended her CC Challenge Orientation. We just can't believe it's only a month until classes start!
• I dropped off two huge bags of giveaway items produced by the collaborative closet culling efforts of Jeff and myself.
• I accidentally spilled the contents of my wallet and found the dry cleaning ticket for some things I dropped off a month ago. Fortunately, the cleaners still had the items, and I was able to pick them up. 
• The big boys had pre-football physicals done. 
• We got our house in Austin listed for sale.
• I displayed one of my greater acts of insanity by taking all four kids with me for six hours of errand running and school clothes shopping. 

From Pre-Med to Peppermint Oil

Life is funny. It has a way of changing people. Sometimes big changes, all at once, and, sometimes, gradual changes we don't even recognize until we look back. I began my adult life with a very specific focus and determination to go to medical school and become a doctor. I graduated with a decent GPA, from a decent university, with a pre-med degree. But Life was working, even then, to change me. In those early years, I believed in modern medicine wholeheartedly. I decided not to go to medical school for a variety of reasons, but it wasn't that I stopped believing in the marvels of modern medicine.

Around the time I started having babies, I remember thinking, "Women have been doing this for thousands of years, without the aid of doctors or machinery or hospitals or epidurals. What's the big deal?" I even told the doctor that delivered Weston that all I really needed was a catcher. My first three babies were delivered in hospitals by doctors, because we had big, fat, corporate insurance, and it just seemed easiest to pick an in-network doctor and go with that. But, even then, I didn't feel it was necessary to have a doctor present. I just knew that Jeff probably wasn't up for playing catcher, so we needed someone else in the room. I didn't have an epidural or any medication. I just did what my body knew to do. (Max was a little bit of a challenge, as he decided to come out like Superman and got himself stuck. It wasn't quite as straightforward as the other deliveries, and I was thankful to have some extra, knowledgeable help to get him out and to help him through the next few days as he recovered from the experience).

When the corporate insurance went away, we took a longer, deeper look at the role of modern medicine in our lives, and we decided most of it wasn't necessary. Originally, we were motivated almost solely by money and convenience. We started using homemade cough remedies for kids who seemed to be too young for all the over-the-counter stuff. And, we experimented with using hydrogen peroxide to treat ear infections. And, it worked--sometimes on about the same time frame as medicine and sometimes quicker. And, when it came time to have our fourth child, we chose to have a midwife deliver him at a birthing center. The cost to deliver there was significantly lower than to deliver at the hospital. But, money aside, I can tell you now that I wish I would have chosen that route with all my babies. No one bothered me. Or hooked me up to a million instruments. Or told me what to do. Or tried to pump me full of drugs. When I was ready, I just told the midwife, and she stood beside the bed to play catcher. Then, we went home later that day, and it all just felt so much more natural and comfortable.

I find that the more years I get under my belt, the less I depend on, and even trust, modern medicine and the more I look for alternatives to keep my family healthy. Now, granted, we are generally a pretty healthy bunch. Thankfully, we aren't dealing with any major illnesses or chronic conditions. And, I'm not saying modern medicine isn't useful. I was very glad to have a skilled doctor sew up Max's chin a few months ago and one to staple my head closed last summer. And, I'm thankful for all the modern medicine involved in helping my dad when he had his heart attack a month ago. Certainly, it has it's place. But, I no longer believe in it like I used to, especially for non-serious medical problems.

Recently, as we've had little problems come up, I've been researching and trying more and more home remedies. I have been taking Evening Primrose Oil (in caplet form) for hormonal acne and have seen major improvements. I was introduced to Peppermint Oil as a way to treat headaches and have been amazed at how well it has worked. I have also used Vitamin E Oil to treat ingrown toenails on myself and plantar warts on the kids and have seen wonderful results.

It's funny to me now that I once wanted to be a doctor of modern medicine and that I once believed in that system so wholeheartedly. That's not at all who I am anymore. Life has changed me. Of course, I recognize that many readers will not agree, and that is perfectly fine with me. I am not trying to persuade anyone to change the way they think. I just wanted to express my amusement in the fact that Life changes us in spite of ourselves. I am learning to embrace and appreciate change as it comes, and I respect that Life will not take any two people down the exact same path. This is one way in which Life has changed me. How has it changed you?

Baby Love

Big

Earlier this week, Jeff commented on how big he thought Clay was getting to be. I held to my opinion that that couldn't be true because "he's still a baby." But, in my less delusional moments, I too can see that he's getting big. He has so many words now. And,  he is sometimes drinking from a big boy cup, instead of a sippy cup. And, he prefers to sit in a regular chair instead of a highchair. And, he can reach the doorknobs. And, he doesn't want to be left out of anything the big kids are doing. But, tonight, he took that bigness to a level I wasn't quite ready for by climbing out of his crib. He wasn't hurt, but he was pretty angry that he couldn't get the door open and make his escape complete.

And, just like that, our crib days are over. That crib is where all my babies have slept away their infancies and some of their toddlerhoods (or fought sleeping, as the case may be). And there are tiny bite marks along one end, where they all did some of their teething. To have the last baby put that piece of furniture behind him is admittedly hard on this mama's heart.

It's not that I don't want my kiddos to grow up. I just don't understand why it has to happen so incredibly quickly and without my full permission. There are many difficult things about motherhood, but I'm not sure if the hardest isn't these little letting-gos.

Nesting

I have always heard about expectant moms who get a "nesting" urge before they have the baby. I was not one of those moms. It's possible that this was the case because my life seemed to be somewhat tumultuous when I was pregnant with most of my babies. We moved two weeks after Ruth was born, so the months prior to her birth were more about upheaval than settling. When I was pregnant with Max, we knew that a move to Brazil was imminent. And, when Clay was camping out inside me, we were months away from completing the building of our home, and we were living in my in-law's home. So, yeah, "nesting" was not really my thing. But, ironically, the knowledge that I'm probably not going to have any more babies has kicked the nesting instinct into high gear. I just want to clean this place from top to bottom, and I want to declutter as much as possible. I cleaned and sanitized every surface of my bathroom this week, steam mopped all the downstairs floors, walked the boys through a thorough cleaning of their bathroom, scrubbed the microwaves, assisted Jeff with a deep-cleaning of the stove burners, and made a very serious attempt at getting the garage ready to actually house our vehicles. We filled the back of my van AND the back end of Jeff's truck with stuff to donate today, and tomorrow we will load a trailer with a heaping pile of garbage to haul off. And, boy, does it feel good. I just wish the clean could last. But, alas, real {messy} people live here, so it's just not possible. I will give myself an "E" for effort, though.

(I secretly wanted the children to sleep in a little longer this morning, so I could enjoy the clean look and feel--not to mention smell--of everything).

Toddler Tired

There is a physical and mental exhaustion which cannot be reached by humans unless they are stay-at-home-moms in a household where there is a toddler running around. I seriously doubt if it can even be described in words. But, if you find yourself answering to that title, you know what I'm talking about. You. Know. (I purposely exclude those of you who have been in that position in the past but are not there now, because, thankfully, the memory is forgiving of this stage of life, remembering only chubby little fingers, lopsided smiles and huge slobbery kisses). I have been here before, and I know, intellectually, that these hard toddler days will pass. But from the throes, it is hard to have faith that such a time will come.

The day with this little incoherent mess begins with Mom trying desperately to understand what "uh-uh-uh" means before it turns into "EEEEEEE! AAAHHH! WAAAAA!" Then, the partially undressed child is taken to the changing table, where he begins attempting to remove every item touching the surface of the table, while simultaneously trying to stand and do a backflip off of it. Breakfast is relatively calm, because the child is strapped into a seat, from which the most damage he can do is throw the occasional morsel to the floor or disperse the milk from his sippy cup in a four-foot radius. The real fun begins after breakfast, when the child is released from his constraints. He immediately runs into the pantry and sweeps everything off the bottom shelf, making sure to turn all the cracker boxes upside down, insuring the powdery crumbs on the bottom fall to the floor. When Mom removes the child from the pantry and turns her attention to the mess, he makes his way over to the cabinets and begins emptying them as quickly as he possibly can, stashing many of their contents in the incredibly nasty trash can. As Mom exits the pantry (hopefully remembering to close the door behind her), she discovers this new mess, shoos the child out of the room and turns her attention to this newest domestic disaster. In the meantime, the child makes his way into other parts of the house to visit other trashcans, wreak havoc in siblings' rooms, remove every book within his reach from the bookcase and every writing utensil from the desk drawers, and splash in a potty or two, if anyone has been so careless as to leave a bathroom door cracked, even just a fraction of an inch. Before long, other members of the household demand that something be done with the menace. Mom pries some inedible object out the the child's mouth and attempts to hold him in her lap for a period of time, looking at pictures of puppies on the Internet. The child will abide the cuddling only momentarily and then goes completely limp, in an effort to slide off the mother's lap onto the floor. Once more free, he dashes off to his room, where he sets some noisy toy in motion as a cover for his empty-all-the-dresser-drawers mission. Mom catches him at this, shoos him out of the room and starts picking up the clothes and blankets, which had once been neatly folded and dust-free. When Mom leaves that room, she finds the toddler carrying some unsafe item or other from the laundry room. She stashes it in a high place just in time to hear the sound of breaking dishes coming from the kitchen. She rushes into the kitchen (hopefully remembering to close the laundry room door behind her) to find the toddler (wielding stolen silverware from the dishwasher) and a barefoot dishwasher unloading sibling surrounded by white shards of a once-nice, recently thrown ramekin. Of course, the toddler is to blame. After she vacates all the unscathed, shoeless wonders from the kitchen and says a prayer for nap time to come soon, she cleans up the broken dish. While she is doing that, the toddler slips over to the off-limits staircase and begins his assent. Mom scoops up the child and straps him into his highchair for a short break snack. When the food throwing begins, she gets the child down, just as an older sibling heads out the front door. The toddler throws himself against the door in a wailing fit, and Mom begins a myriad of unsuccessful distraction techniques. A ball eventually works. But, as Mom plays catch with the little guy, he slips past her, when she bends to retrieve a stray pass, and begins unloading the crate of things she needs for work. She relocates the crate to a higher shelf, even though it is not a good fit and seems as if it might fall if breathed on too hard. That's when the child finds one page of his sister's report, which accidentally slipped to the floor, and crumples it up into an unrecognizable mess. Mom attempts to smooth papers and feelings all at once, while the toddler makes his get-away. The momentary silenced "uh-uh-uh, " sends Mom into search mode. She finds the child in his father's office, sitting on Dad's lap, looking at pictures of puppies on the Internet. It seems briefly precious. Then, Dad puts the child on the floor and asks Mom some question or another. By the time Mom leaves, Older Sister is in a tizzy, because she can't practice the piano properly with the little man madly banging alternately on the highest and lowest keys. Once at older siblings' various lessons, the child demands to be held when set down and set down when held. Mom cannot possibly win. And, when she and her brood get home, she discovers that, despite all the cleaning and picking up during the day, the house is a complete wreck. She has accomplished nothing. She will endure one more food circus, bathe the slippery rascal, who continually tries to stand up in the tub, finally (and happily) put the child to bed, and give in to the exhaustion, by sinking into her zebra print lounger with her laptop, almost unable to form coherent thoughts, knowing she will do the same thing over again tomorrow. This woman is "toddler tired." She is afflicted body, mind and soul, and she wonders if her sanity will hold out much longer. 

It's a good thing he's super-cute!

My nephew has arrived!

Tyler Lane Teasley arrived this morning at 9:13, weighing 8 lbs. 9 oz. and measuring 20 1/2 in. What a beautiful addition to the family!! Congrats, Jodi and Chad! He is just precious!

Spring has sprung

It's official: Spring is here!! The time changed this morning, and we saw our first big bunch of bluebonnets this afternoon! Let's all do a happy dance! This is absolutely my favorite time of year! Just looking out the window at all the new life cropping up and breathing deeply of the fresh, fragrant air puts a big ol' smile on my face. It's the time of year when I feel like anything is possible.

And this spring is especially exciting, as we prepare to welcome a new little Watts into the family. That fact has only recently clearly dawned on me. We should have a new little bundle of joy in around 6-8 weeks. Wow! We picked up all our baby stuff while we were in Kingwood yesterday, and today I began going through the boxes and washing all the sweet little things that haven't been used in about three years. Yes, spring is definitely a very special time, and new life is such an amazing blessing!

Now, That's Overwhelming

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about how overwhelmed some people seem to be by the fact that I'm pregnant with my third child. Well, today I came across some facts that will just send those people completely over the edge. Apparently, the most prolific woman ever had 69 children! This was in Russia in the 1700s, so it wasn't the result of fertilization treatments. It is reported that this lady had some sort of ovulation disorder. This poor woman was pregnant 27 times and gave birth to 16 pairs of twins, 7 sets of triplets and 4 sets of quadruplets. Only two of the children didn't make it through infancy. Now, that's overwhelming!

And closer to home, a former co-worker of Jeff's (i.e. someone we actually know and have some sort of relationship with) recently had quintuptlets (that's 5 babies at once!)--and he already had two kids! That's also pretty overwhelming, if you ask me.

Makes just three look super-normal and not the least bit overwhelming, huh?!

JohnDeere Jack

Ruth remains rankled over the fact that we are having a baby boy, and to get her out of this funk I have encouraged her to share any good boy names she comes up with. This afternoon she actually decided to consider this and came up with the lovely moniker you see in the title of this post. She came up with several clever names for Weston, but finally stuck with "Monkey Joe." I can't wait to see if she keeps this one for Baby Boy #2 or if she comes up with something even more creative.

Filling Up Our Quiver

We have a big announcement to make: We're going to have a new baby!!! Sometime in mid-January we're going to be bringing home a new little bundle of joy. When we told the kids, Ruth's first response was, "Now I'm going to have two babies to take care of...and I'll be in school!" I told her I might be able to help out ever so slightly. Her next observation was, "Now we're going to have three kids and only two adults!" Oh boy. She's already realized how the scale will be tipping. We are so excited and we feel very blessed with this new addition to our family. Here's a preview of our new little one:


Behold, children are a gift of the Lord; The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them...(Psalm 127:3-5)

Oh Baby

Every so often Ruth brings up the topic of babies--how they are made and how they are born--usually when she's hitting me up for a little sister. (This is how she usually brings up the conversation: Weston is a really nice little brother, but don't you think it would be fun if we had a little sister)?! She knows the basics (on a four-year-old level--"It just takes a little seed from the dad and a little seed from the mom, and {pause for effect} you get a baby." This said with spectacular hand motions and wonderful inflections.) and she always presents these facts to me in a way that says, "This isn't such a difficult thing. Why don't you get right on it?" I can't seem to get her to understand, that while I may be able to make the decision to have a baby, I don't have any control whatsoever over whether we get a boy or a girl. The funniest part of our conversation this morning was her question about how the baby gets out--"Mom, could you explain to me how the baby gets out. I don't think it would be strong enough to push out of the mom's belly, and anyway, that would just break the mom's belly and that wouldn't be good." I attempted to explain the birth canal and my mistake was comparing it to a tunnel. Her eyes lit up and she asked, "Is that a tunnel the baby can play in while it is in the mommy's tummy?" (I'm sure she was picturing some of our favorite playgrounds).

Anyway, we had this conversation during breakfast, and after we were done, she and Weston went off to play. In a few minutes Ruth came back into the kitchen, with Weston on her heels and her never-ending stream of make-believe dialog going on, and she announced to me that Weston was her baby. Then she just got completely cracked up, as she realized a discrepancy in her pretending, and said, "Well, he can't be my baby because I'm only 13...But someone gave him to me so I have to take care of him." At least I have her thinking that she shouldn't have a baby when she's 13!

I laughed myself to tears!

If one is good, two is better

I think Ruth is looking for a bigger challenge in the sisterhood department. Today she said to me, "Mom, when you have another baby, could you have two at the same time, so I can be the big sister for two." ("And if you could just make them girls, that would be great").

Date Night

Last night Jeff and I got to go on a date for the first time since Weston joined our family. As we arrived at the grandparents', I realized that we were either going to have a very short date or I was going to have to figure out a way to get Weston some food when I wasn't there. (Nothing like planning ahead, huh)?! So, I dashed over to the pharmacy to see what I could find in the way of formula and bottles, all the while thinking, "I never would have done this with my first kid." Having never used either of those things, I was completely dumbfounded. Finally, I gave up and just asked the pharmacist. She was properly impressed with my lack of planning--"So you've never used formula?!"--but was helpful in assisting me nonetheless, although she did suggest I buy several bottles just in case my baby was picky about what kind of nipple he would accept. That gave me visions of Weston screaming his head off and refusing to take part in this whole scam. She was also quick to point out that after I gave my baby formula, I would seriously have to consider why I ever thought breastfeeding was a good idea to begin with. That sent me down the path of wondering if Weston was going to reject me altogether after this experience and if it was really worth it. Finally, with the decision made to go through with it, I made my purchase (just one bottle) and headed to drop it all off with my parents. Fortunatley, everything went off without a hitch. Jeff and I were able to go out to dinner and see a movie, Weston thoroughly enjoyed his formula experience, Ruth was thrilled because she got to hold the bottle for Weston and the grandparents were happy to have the kids over at their house for a while. Since a good time was had by all, I think another date night will be in order soon!

(By the way, the movie we saw was Glory Road, and we thought it was very good, in case anyone else out there is planning their own date night).

Happiest Baby on the Block

At midnight last night, as I was just on the brink of insanity from listening to Weston cry for a few hours straight without being able to help him in any way, I remembered a gem of a book someone had given me when I was pregnant with Ruth: The Happiest Baby on the Block. It is required reading for anyone even thinking of being in the same room with a newborn. Dr. Harvey Karp has a very interesting therory about so-called colic and about how to help your infant in the midst of this traumatic period of the baby's (and caregiver's) life. His solution is wrapped up in the 5 S's: Swaddling, Side/Stomach positioning, Shhhhing, Swinging and Sucking. After reviewing his advice, I swaddled Weston up and immediately saw him go from out-of-control to calm and quiet. When I added the pacifier, he drifted off and slept until almost 5:00 this morning. Tonight I decided to see if we could bypass the crying altogether, so right after the pre-bedtime feeding, I wrapped him up tight in the blanket, gave him his passy and gave the cradle a little rock. Without so much as a peep, he drifted off, and the result is the picture I posted here in the blog. I say we vote Dr. Karp in for president. He's definitely got world peace figured out!