My Little Stinker

Zeb has learned a new trick.  He holds his breath when he gets angry.  Yeah, you read that right.  My eight month old sweetheart holds his breath when he is angry! 

This past Friday night, we spent the evening in the den (the center of our house) while there were tornado sirens going off and actual tornado touchdown to the north of us.  It was quite hectic.  Well, not really.  We kept the TV on the weather, put a movie on the laptop for the girls, and brought Zeb's high chair in so that I could feed him dinner.  So, there we were.  Grammy, Ava, Adelaide, Zeb, Bobby, me, three dogs and a cat in one room.  Yeah.  That was chaos.  But we made it through with only a few branches in our yard which happens every time there is rain, wind or a nice breeze.  

As we put Ava and Adelaide to bed (for the second time) the lights all went out.  Just for a few minutes, but long enough for the girls to be completely freaked.  Zeb started screaming.  Of course, this is what Zeb does when Mommy isn't holding him.  So more chaos.

I guess whatever made the power go off was quickly fixed as what was just long enough for us to grab the flashlights. With the lights back on, Bobby and I started getting the house back in order.  I grabbed Zeb out of his high chair and Bobby put it back at the table where it belongs.  During this few minutes, I put Zeb on the floor in the den.  This is a place he frequently plays.  He went straight for the DVD shelf.  Bobby was walking by, and picked him up.

Now, the first thing you need to know is that our precious little man has a temper.  And he comes by it honestly.  I have a bit of a temper, my dad has a bit of a temper.  So when Bobby kept him from getting what he wanted, we were prepared for the ear splitting scream.  Zeb took in a deep breath and did that cry so hard without making any noise thing.  You know the one, the longer it goes the works the eventual scream is.  Yeah.  It's a cry that was perfected by Adelaide.  Then taught to Zeb by his big sister.  Something that happens several times a day in our house. 

Zeb sucked that breath in.  We were waiting.  Making comments like, "Oh wow! This gonna be a big one!"  Except, that scream never came.  Zeb turned blue.  I said Bobby, "he's BLUE! HE'S CHOKING!"  It all happened so fast.  We were in panic but function mode.  And then Zeb passed out!  He just went totally limp in Bobby's arms.  I was trying to figure out exactly what he could have gotten.  He was on the floor for two minutes.  And I was right with him.  Playing with him!  Bobby shoved him into my arms, since I've had infant first aid and CPR training.  I gave Zeb a finger sweep and he threw up.  It was pure panic mode.  Bobby called 911.

The firetruck got there very quickly in reality, but it felt like forever.  At this point, Zeb was awake and screaming.  The most blessed sound that I have ever heard!  As Bobby was the on phone with the operator, I looked around.  I had just started cleaning out the closets!  I had tubs and laundry baskets everywhere!  So, we start stacking them up so that people can come in.  It was a little ridiculous.  I was freaking out because my house was a mess and paramedics and firefighters were on their way! Then, we realized that the dogs were out.  Had to deal with them.  It was insanity.  

Once the medics arrived, all eight of them came into our tiny living room.  Good thing that I moved the baskets and tubs out of the way.  Zeb had a great time with all of the guys!  They were so accommodating.  They didn't make us feel like idiots.  They were so encouraging.  They told us that most parents get a handle on it before  they get there and that it's better to call right away instead of waiting to see if you can get it under control.  We told them what happened and they said, "Oh, that's what it was.  He was mad."

I didn't quite believe them.  I mean, MY sweet boy wouldn't do that.  He's not old enough to do that.  He can't figure that out!  But then he did it again at the mall the next day.  I was putting him in the carseat and he held his breath.  This time, I knew what was going on.  I blew in his face and he started breathing again.  That little stinker.  After talking to my mom, I learned that my dad was FAMOUS for passing out on the sidewalk as a two year old.  He did the same thing!  (By the way, once you pass out, your body will automatically start breathing) And my niece did the same thing!  Oh well.  

Our Friday night was way too exciting.  But we survived and now Zeb has an exciting story to tell.

I have been seriously convicted about my parenting.  I have been very frustrated with myself.  I know that    there are no perfect parents.  I don't expect to be one.  However, I don't want to expect perfect children either.  I have found myself yelling.  A lot.  I am a loud person by nature.  But my tone has just been so unloving.  I have had such frustration with my girls.  And my patience level has been virtually nonexistent.  Now, there are a few things you should know before you start judging me.  I have had NO sleep in the last three years.  No, really.  Since I got pregnant with Adelaide, I have not slept.  But, I am not the only tired Mama out there.  I have a husband who works about 11 hours a day.  He gets up, eats breakfast and runs.  He comes home and the kids are going to bed.  So I am on my own pretty much all day.  But he is home for breakfast.  I am not a single mother.  These are the things that kept running through my head.  I should be better.  I am not the only one dealing with this.  I don't have it as bad as.... But that was just me stepping into the comparison trap.  Instead of asking God to parent through me, I just berated myself for not being a good enough parent.  But that got me nowhere.  Finally, I decided to give up.  I got down on my knees and cried.  I begged God to take over.  I begged God to change me.  And do you know what happened?  It got crazier.  Things got more insane.  But guess what!  God took over.  I was able to relax in a situation that would have made nuts!  I was able to look at the stuff on the floor and the piles of laundry and just shrug my shoulders.  I have been able to talk to kids in a quiet voice, and slowly, they are responding.  They are not waiting for me to yell to obey.  They are changing too!  Now, it's not perfect and like I said, I don't expect it to be.  I have days where I call Bobby in tears because Zeb won't nap and the two year olds are fighting and Ava and Lexie won't do their school work.  But that's ok.  It's part of this whole we don't have to be perfect thing.  It's not an anything goes deal either.  There is still discipline.  But it's not that Mommy has yelled to the point that I can't even remember what I threatened or that what I threatened is even manageable.  God is changing me.  And God is changing my parenting.  And God is changing my kids by changing me.  I am not perfect.  And I accept that.  But I am working.  And I will continue to work.  And God is working and He will continue to work.  I'm not done yet.  And that is a freeing thought.

Ok.  So after lots of adustment and a couple of break downs, we are happy to say that Zebulon David Camp is on his way.  Yes, it's a boy!  Can you believe it?  I finally can.  We didn't think that it was possible.  I guess the boy defenses that my uterus has been throwing up all of these years went down.  Now, I will admit, it was a complete shock!  We sat in the sonogram room expecting to hear the oh so familiar words of, "It's a girl."  Now, I have seen two boy ultrasounds in my life and was able to read both of them quickly.  We were even more convinced that it was a girl when the baby was crossing its ankles and refusing to show us.  When finally he moved and I saw something that none of my ultrasounds have ever had.  I just started to giggle.  It's a nervous giggle that my entire family is affected by.  We laugh at funerals or anytime we are uncomfortable.  The ultrasound tech said, "it's a boy."  Now, there was no dramatic build up at all.  She said it so fast that you could have missed it.  Bobby was so stunned he said, "excuse me?  Are you sure?"  I was quite convinced that it was a boy, either that or this baby had a third leg!  We walked out of that room to a crowded waiting room where we waited for Monica, my midwife.  As we were waiting with our disappointed seven year old and extatic four year old and clueless one year old, Bobby kept trying to get me to talk about it.  Yes.  I know.  I was in shock and did not want to share my feelings with a room full of strangers.  I just kept telling him, "not now."  On the way home we both had our own little break down.  Now, don't get me wrong, we were already in love with this little man.  I just kept thinking.  I don't want to be that mother of just one boy.  The one that is convinced that her baby is perfect and that if he does something wrong, it's someone else's fault.  You know what I'm talking about.  Or to be the mom that babies him so much and doesn't let him be a boy.  Bobby was concerned about how to be the dad to a boy.

As time went on, we found out six weeks ago, we realized that there is a reason that God was blessing us with this little boy now.  After having three girls, we are in a position to know what we expect from the boys around our girls.  It's changed our prespective.  And Bobby gets to go to the other side of Gymboree!  It's been 6 years of going in there and longingly looking at the other side of the store.  Boys clothes!  A brand new color scheme!  We have to say that each and every day that goes by, we are more excited by the idea of a son.  A son.... what an exciting new adventure.  God is really changing things up!  I'm so excited about this.  Zebulon will be here before we know it.  I wonder everyday what he is going to look like.  Our girls are so feminine!  What will a boy look like?  And let's be honest, I'm excited to have one for me, since all of the girls have turned into daddy's girls.

Baby number WHAT?

I have to say that being pregnant with baby number four, you get so many more unwanted comments.  No, I don't mean other people's horror stories.  I mean just rude comments about your sanity.  And yes, I know that I am probably a bit more sensitive to people remarks since I'm pregnant, but really?  Does every person I encounter NEED to ponder my sanity to my face?  I'm just going to quickly clear a couple things up here.

First of all, No.  We were not trying for a fourth.  We had considered it.  Believe it or not, I ovulated twice in the cycle that I got pregnant in.  Yeah, I didn't even know that was possible.  But something about weaning from nursing had something to do with it.  I figured it took three years between Ava Rose and Adelaide.  If it was going to happen, it would happen much later down the road.

Second, I am not out to be my mother.  When you come from a family of six kids, people assume that you are trying to recreate your family.  If that's the logic people are working with to justify MY pregnancy, how do you explain that my husband came from a small family of only two kids?  Just a thought.

And last, we aren't determined to have a boy.  Yes, we have three girls, but we like girls.  If you are going to do something do that and do it well.  I have an amazing husband that can put an outfit matching socks or tights, shoes and bloomers together.  He knows the importance of a bow and can even do hair!  We know what goes into potty training girls.  We can handle the drama.  We deal with attitude.  We get little girls.  Now, that's not to say that if God blesses us with a boy that we wouldn't be thrilled.  We would be, just scared out of our minds.

Now, we are really excited about having a fourth child.  We like the idea of an even number.  Having two younger sisters close in age to me, I know that drama of three.  Someone is always left out.  I also love that Lexie and Ava Rose are so close.  They really are best friends.  I want Adelaide to have that.  These two will be super close in age (21 months apart) and I am so excited to watch their friendship grow.

And, yes.  I am terrified.  I have moments of being unsure how to do it all.  Where will a fourth baby go?  How will we afford four?  How do I work all of these car seats (I have my nephew every day) in my van?  How will I homeschool 2 and entertain the other 3?  Because daily, I will have 5 kids every day.  How will Adelaide, my most needy baby, react to a new baby?  Will she think it's replacing her?

I have the same thoughts as everyone else.  I just don't know that it's necessary for YOU to state your queries to me.  It's really not your business.  We are having a fourth child.  All that we ask at this point is for you to support us.  You can think we are crazy.  But don't say it to me.

Cat's Out

The cat is outta the bag.  It seems that everyone knows that we are expecting our fourth child.  Though, I was very selective in telling everyone at first.  People literally kept coming up to me the week that I found out congratulating me.  When I would look confused and ask how anybody knew, they would just tell me that they had an inkling and it was confirmed.  Now, with this baby, I found out at like four weeks into this mess.  How could people have known for a while if there wasn't a while to know?  And if they had an inkling, why didn't they maybe let me in on it?  And if not telling me that I was pregnant wasn't bad enough, who confirmed it?  I have yet to find out. 

It is kind of fun to let it leak out slowly instead of making a big announcement.  I made sure my family knew, but other than that, it's been hearsay.  Of course Ava Rose announced it to her teachers at school the moment she knew about it.  And if you've ever been around our preschool, you know how quickly that spreads. 

I am also finding that this pregnancy is true to form for me.  My first pregnancy was rough, but manageable.  The second was harder.  I was sick more and so much more tired.  The third was awful.  I was so sick.  And I had no energy.  This one seems to be the toughest to date.  I find it's very hard to fake being fine when I have a very astute six year old and a very sensitive four year old.  Lexie is quick to offer that we don't HAVE to do school today if I'm too sick.  And Ava Rose is very concerned that I am going to "Frow UP".  

I find that everyone is convinced that we need a boy.  I'm not.  I have to admit that I am a bit curious about how a Camp boy would be.  But the idea of raising a boy is just terrifying.  The thought of it is panic attack inducing for me.  I was made to be the mother of girls.  I love pink.  I love frills.  I love hair bows.  I love shoes.  I love little girls.  Now don't get me wrong, I've had a taste of a little boy.  Trey, my nephew is over everyday while Emma works.  He's fantastic.  But I am at a complete loss at some the things he does.  He is ALL boy.  I don't have tomboys.  I don't even have girls.  I have princesses.  They want all the right accessories, they want to wear a tiara whenever possible.  They count down to ballet lessons.  They love a dress.  And shoe shopping is one of their favorite activities.  And, I also want Adelaide to have what Lexie and Ava Rose have.  They are best friends.  What better thing to have your best friend be your sister?  I watch my two younger sisters and I want that for all of my girls.  As the oldest of the three Bickford girls, I know how having three girls can be difficult.  I know that someone will be left out.  I know that there will be more tears.  I will adjust if I have a boy.  I will wrap my mind around it and dive in with both feet.  I would love him and he would be the sweetest little boy ever.  But I'm just saying.  I would love to be the mother of four girls.

What about my husband?  You would have to see him with our girls.  He was made to be a daddy to girls.  He has no problem fixing hair and matching the hairbow to the outfit.  He knows how to deal with swing of emotions that are continuous with three little girls in the house.  He's as curious as I am about what a boy would be like, but that is as far as it goes. 

We are both excited about having a fourth baby.  The whole even number is a good thing.  And we are just thrilled that God would bless us in this way.

Babies and Butt Paste

Ava Rose and Lexie went to bed last night and as usual, I could hear them talking instead of going to sleep.  They weren't bothering Ladie so I didn't say anything.  In fact they fell asleep faster than normal.  Wahoo!  What an awesome night.  Bobby came home and they were already asleep.  Such an unusual thing.  But I was not about to disrupt a quiet evening and the possibility of an early night for Mommy. 

At ten o'clock every night, the "potty alarm" on Bobby's phone goes off.  He gets Ava up and takes her potty so that we can hopefully avoid a bed wetting accident.  He went in to get her and come back out fuming.  I was so confused because my husband is not one to lose his temper easily.  "Did she have an accident already?" I asked.  I was really just grasping at something, anything that would cause this reaction in him.  "I'm going to go wake up our children now.  They have to clean butt paste off the bed."  What???  Apparently, my creative children decided to paint their bed with yes, butt paste.  How in the world do they come up with this?  No, not the little tube that yo stick in the diaper bag or the big tube that's in the living room.  They used the monster tub of butt paste.  It was practically full and now it's empty.  Yes, they emptied out the tub of butt paste that used properly, takes a good year to go through.  It took them one night.

Everything in their room was covered.  And though, Bobby did get them up and they cleaned the majority up last night, I think we will be finding it for the next 6 years.  Their shoes, sheets, clothes, bodies, bed, walls and hair were covered!  I sent Ava Rose to school this morning reeking of the distinct smell.  Her teachers probably think that we just don't bathe them.  But I do.  They had a bath last night before this disaster.

The worst part is, this is not Ava Rose's first run at this kind of thing.  She once smeared Vaseline all over herself and MY bedroom.  She was two and it took weeks to get it out of her hair!  Even with the special shampoo that Aunt Annie got us.  Hopefully this will not be a repeat of that mess.  OH.  Well, at least they were writing in the smeared mess.  Can I count that a school?

Ladie has been sick for the past couple of days.  She is not the pull yourself up by your bootstraps child.  Which, I guess I kind of deserve.  She is after all one hundred percent me.  But, being pregnant and sick and dealing with a child with the lovely mystery fever and NO OTHER symptoms, will just about push one over the edge.  In fact, I don't even think that I brushed Ava's hair before she went to school.  In the words of my mom, "She looked like an orphan baby.  Like nobody loves her."  Well, at least she was dressed.  Adelaide on the other hand is still in her jammies that are covered in strawberries.  Well, at least she ate something.  The most frustrating part of this whole thing was Saturday night when Ladie was in the worst of it.  She woke up at about midnight with a fever.  I gave her medicine and put her in the bathtub to cool her off.  She was miserable and up until 4.  Bobby was home and luckily did not have to work in the morning.  I literally lay in bed with them trying to help, but my pregnant body kept betraying me.  I could not stay awake!  I crashed at some point and slept for two hours while my poor husband was up with our sick baby.  I know that God gives a child two parents for times such as these, but.... It's really frustrating.  And then I tried to talk to Bobby about how I was supposed to be the one taking care of her, but he just got offended.  Now, I know, I  am crazy blessed.  I have a husband that will give up sleep for his children and doesn't just expect me to do it all.  But do any you moms get this?  She came from ME.  I want to be there when she's sick.  I don't always trust Bobby's instincts with sick babies.  Does he know that if her fever spikes to put her in the bath?  Does he know the tylenol/motrin schedule?  What will he do if she gets worse suddenly?  Does he know when to call the doctor?  Will he know the questions to ask if he does call?  I guess you can tell.  I struggle with control when it comes to my children...