7 is Heaven, In the Form of Little Man

Little Man came into this world 7 years ago the way he appraoches everything in life...full throttle. My whole labor with him was about 25-30 minutes long. We didn't make it to the hospital, which was only 10 minutes from our house. He was born in the car. Wanna hear the whole story?

I went to bed the night before at 2:30 am with mild cramps. Not contractions, just small cramps, like you would get with your monthly. I woke up at 4 a.m. dreaming I was having contractions. Then I realized I WAS having contractions, and pretty hard ones. I ran to the bathroom to pee and realized from all of the blood in the toilet that it was time to go. My husband helped me pull on some sweats, we grabbed Big Brother, who was 2 at the time and I tried to walk to the car a few feet away, which was pretty difficult. At this point, I was basing everything on my first birth and was still thinking I had a good hour or 2 of this kind of labor. Had I known how close I was to delivering I would have stayed home and called the paramedics!

So, we head out of the driveway and my dear husband suddenly forgets which direction the hospital is and asks me how to get there. I am breathing and struggling to keep from screaming because I am really hurting and he finally heads out. I'm thinking he is gonna really kick it in gear and blast me to the hospital. No, that's not what happened. We get to the first stop light and he stops. I'm like, "What are you doing? Run the light! I'm in pain and this baby is coming! Run the light!" He goes, "No! Our license plate tags are expired and I might get pulled over!" to which I scream "RUN THE LIGHT!!!" So he cautiously goes through the light and proceeds at a very safe pace to the next light, which I scream at him to go through as he started to slow down, etc. etc., for about 4 miles. Meanwhile, my poor firstborn is sitting in his carseat wondering why mommy is freaking out and Daddy is lauging trying to keep him calm, which really irritated me, because he didn't explain what he was doing and I thought he was laughing at me! When I let him know what an ass he was being, he calmly explained what he was doing, but by then I didn't care because I could feel the baby coming and all the breathing in the world was NOT stopping him, which was freaking me out. I did not stay very calm or focused, I was completely panicked and waving my arms around in the air, screaming at my husband, "The baby is coming! He is coming right now! I can't stop him, he is coming right now!" My husband then starts freaking out. We are still driving and are about 3 miles from the hospital and my husband starts to slow down, then a cop pulled behind us. Hubby tries to wave him up along side of us, but cop was a little leery. Right then the baby pops out of my uterus and is squirming in my sweat pants. I'm telling my husband the baby is in my pants and he's looking at me like I'm psychotic. Finally, after what seemed like FOREVER, the policeman pulls up to my window. He looked young. Like 16 years old kind of young. I can only imagine how my face looked when I rolled down the window and bellowed "I just had a baby. It's in my pants!" He stared for a minute, stunned into silence, trying to take in the situation. Then he goes, "Ummm, okaaayyy." I repeated the phrase. He snapped to attention, says "Follow me!" and flipped on his sirens, then we all peeled out to the hospital which was just about 2 minutes away.

When we pulled up into the Emergency driveway, my husband opened his door to go get help and the cop ran out saying someone was on the way. We waited, waited, waited, no one was coming! Finally this guy comes walking down the hall with a gurney, talking to a nurse, poking along like he was on holiday. My husband runs up to him screaming that I had the baby and they finally make it out to me. When I opened the door it was like a bad comedy movie where the station wagon is packed too full. All my bags, shoes, kid's stuffed bear, bottles, come flying out of the car and start rolling down the driveway. A few ER guys kept telling me to get up on the gurney. I kept telling them I couldn't because the baby was in my pants and I didn't want to smash it. I guess I was in shock, I don't know why I didn't just pull down my pants and grab the baby. Anyway, they just kept staring at me and telling me to get out of the car and on the table. Finally a nurse grasps the situation, helps me do this kind of jump, roll, Fosberry Flop kind of thing and I somehow manage to land on the gurney. She grabbed my pants and ripped them down and grabbed the baby. Now all of the sudden the rest of the ER morons get the picture and go to work. I turned to thank the policeman, who was peeling out of the driveway as fast as he could. I think we seriously scared him into not having kids for a long, long time. By now I am realizing that my baby is having issues and I start crying. A really nice guy starts talking to me, telling me they are working fast on the baby and that everything will be okay, stroking my hair and they wheel me in off the driveway and whisk the baby away. He gets me to a room and rushes out. Then the nurse comes and they help me do the rest of the icky birth process and sew me up, etc. By now my husband and son are there and I am trying to find out what is happening. Apparently my Little Man had meconium aspiration and was really struggling to breathe. They got him in NICU and went to work on him, but it was touch and go for about the first 8 hours. My in-laws came and got Big Brother and when everyone cleared out I had time to think about what had happened and started bawling. After about 30 minutes of tears and sobbing I pulled myself together and realized that I was not tired or sore, my body didn't feel all bruised and battered...nothing! Short labor is good. So I took a shower and ate a bagel and recalled my entire wierd birth experience. After about 5 hours they let me in to see Little Man. He was hooked up to a bunch of tubes and wires, it was so sad. They said he fought like hell when they put the tubes in his nose and that was a good sign. I cried a few minutes while I held his little hand and then they made me leave. Later that day they finally got him out of the woods and I got to go back and hold him and try to give him a bottle, which he hated, but kind of took. We stayed in the hospital for 4 more days, which was awesome for me, cause I actually got to rest a little bit and bond with my baby while hubby took some time with Big Brother (the doctors let me stay so Little Man could nurse).

So that's how life with Little Man began. It has not changed much since. He is full of energy and life and loves to explore and find new ways to do things. He is curious and funny and smart and handsome and he does not slow down from the time he wakes up 'til the time he goes to bed. He is definitely all boy and an avid collector of all things Boy, like rocks and bugs and marbles and sticks and bottle caps and shells and bones and whatever else he thinks might be cool or useful someday.

He is my athlete. He is naturally gifted with his body and excels at every sport he tries because he so comfortable in his own skin and with his abilities. He's not afraid of much. He tries a lot of physical feats of strength and agility without fear of pain. His motto is "Pain is something you go through to get to the end result."

Even with his boyish mannerisms, he is the thoughtful one in my family. He tells me my hair looks pretty or how much he loves me, he has to have cuddle time every morning and every night. He is quick to say he is sorry when he has hurt someone and truly feels pained that someone else got hurt because of him. He loves deeply and shows it. He is kind to his friends and classmates and a natural leader.

He totally digs his red hair, and he digs the fact that girls dig his red hair. He is very fashion conscious and concerned about the right hair cut and nice looking clothes. Unless he is playing in the dirt, then it doesn't matter that he is wearing an army shirt with red shorts and cowboy boots. He tells me when my clothes don't look good on me or when he really likes what I am wearing. How nice to have a man in the house with an opinion about my wardrobe!

He runs. All of the time. Think "Dash" from the Incredibles. He chases the cat or his brother, or his dad and sometimes mom, around the house constantly, trying to wrestle or play. He's always moving. He can't sit still, except in school, which drives him crazy, but he does it. His way of saying good morning to his dad and brother is with a big punch in the arm or a tackle, followed by a hug. It pisses Big Brother off to no end to be greeted with a punch first thing in the morning. I'm not kidding. Seriously makes him angry. Little Man can't figure out why Big Brother doesn't like his love punches. Little Man cannot stand still even to get dressed. He walks or runs in circles while putting on his clothes. It's maddening to help him get his shoes on when he won't hold still. And funny. Maddening and funny. Pretty much sums up my emotions about him most of the day.

Little Man feels what he says and says what he feels. You definitely know when the kid is unhappy, because he will make sure everyone else in the house is unhappy too. He gets embarassed in public so he saves the meltdowns for home. And he can have a meltdown, let me tell ya! Un-freakin-believable! The good thing is he gets over his frustrations quickly and then he's back to happy Little Man.

He wants to be an anthropoligist when he grows up. Or a Rock Star. He's worried about his Big Brother being in the military because he knows that military guys sometimes get killed. Little Man looks like Opey from the Andy Griffith show. Maybe he'll follow in Ron Howard's foot steps and become a rich movie director. Whatever he does, I have no doubt it will be at a full-out, fast and furious, breakneck pace that will leave the rest of us standing there wondering what just flew by. Little Man lives life in the fast lane and I can't imagine him any other way (Okay, that's not true. Some days I can imagine him being a little more relaxed, but how boring would it be to have 2 relaxed kids?).

I love him madly and deeply and even when he is on my last nerve he brings a spark to my life that I would never experience without him. He is one of my greatest challenges and my greatest joys, all in the same breath. His magnificent little dirt covered hands and arms around my neck melt away the pains on my worst day and his joy becomes my joy. His curiosity reminds me to live and not just exist. He changed our family. He made us whole. And I am a better person because he loves me.

Happy Birthday, Little Man!

Big Brother Rocks Out Loud

Everyone always tells me to quit apologizing so much. It's a hard habit to break. And I am wondering if me apologizing about the last few blogs not being very interesting is worse than just owning the fact that my blogs are not filled with mirth and humor this week. I mean, I started this as a way to kind of chronicle our lives, but then I feel an obligation to try to keep things upbeat and interesting to read, because I appreciate bloggers who do that for me. On the other hand, I also appreciate bloggers who aren't afraid to be human and honest and candid about their life experiences. It makes me feel normal to see other people do stupid or hard or scary things too. So now I don't know what to do other than to let you all know that I know that I need to lighten up a little after this post. And I will. After this post. 'Cause I really need to say what I gotta say in this post. Then I'll lighten up. After.this.post.

What a hard week for Big Brother. I "heart" this kid so much and it has absolutely gutted me to watch him struggle this week! He's trying so hard to measure up and at every turn his efforts just get smashed! And I am partly to blame for some of his trouble this week. You know what though? This story has a happy ending, so keep reading!

First...Cub Scout Pack Meeting Fiasco:
My kid has worked his butt off the last 6 months trying to finish his Cub Scout achievements and earn his awards and belt loops. We changed leaders a couple of times in the last 6-8 months, so he never has gotten the awards he has earned and we keep getting told, "Next pack meeting."

We are trying to finish his Wolf before he turns 9, when he moves to Bears, which will be in 2 weeks. So, he busts his butt, and we finish all but 3 achivements, plus some Arrow points. I send ALL of this information to the new Den Mom, in detail, so she knows exactly what he has and hasn't done. Did I say "In Detail?" Yes...I did. My notes were very self-explanatory and complete. Detailed notes. No confusion there, right?

We get to the pack meeting last night and she tells me she had some questions about what I sent, so she didn't pick up his stuff. So then why didn't she just call me???!! Right?

"What questions?" I am wondering.

She asks, "Did he complete every letter in each achievement?"

Ummm, yes. See where I typed the words "Big Brother completed each alphabetically lettered subsection of every achievement listed here?"

"Oh, well I wasn't clear on that because some achievements have more lettered subsections than others."

I repeat the words, "Big Brother completed each alphabetical letter of every achievement listed here."

Then she tells me he'll have to wait 'til September, because there is no Pack meeting in August due to Scout Day Camp and asks if that is a problem. Seriously??!!? Ummmm...YES!!! I won't go into detail, but I let her know it was unacceptable, that my dear son will be severely disappointed and that she should have called me if there was a problem. She looked at me and walked away. The pack meeting proceeds and almost every child there received an award. My son and another kid in his Pack did not. The other kid was gone all summer and had not earned any awards. Needless to say, Big Brother was heartbroken.

I was furious with her for not letting me know in advance so that I could have either picked up the awards myself or at the very least, prepared him for the disappointment so that he didn't have to deal with his feelings in front of everyone. She did not even acknowledge him. We left early, with him in tears. His Scout leader was furious and offered to give him something he had in his pocket (that just sounds bad, doesn't it? But he's a super good guy, I'm sure it was like a knife or a compass or a knot tying kit or something Scouty!), but my son was so upset he just ran to the car. We talked all the way home about how sometimes things don't happen the way we want them to and we have to learn to deal with disappointment, but honestly, I was almost in tears myself.

Why was this such an issue? Well, besides the obvious hurt feelings, my sweet son was going to receive even more bad news after Scouts, which is why I really needed Pack Meeting to be a good experience, to help counteract the following event -

Changes at School.

The kids started school on Monday of this week. Big Brother has been in 4th grade now for 2 days at this point. We decided to hold Big Brother back this year and put him back through 3rd grade. I know...GROAN!!! I have been wanting to hold him back since 1st grade and every year the administrations at the schools would talk me out of it. I know my son. I was having to push and pull and drag him through his entire school experience, day after day. He's young, he started school the day he turned 5 and it's been a struggle from halfway through 1st grade til now. He needs the time to mature, socially and academically, before he takes on more challenge. I know my son!! I have thought about this long and hard and I know my son will do better if he is not rushed through his academic career. I don't want to have to drag him through life. I want him to learn to drag himself through life!

Anyway, Big Man and I discussed it at length, I was very worried over how Big Brother would deal with it. The school was very open to listening to my concerns, they addressed the issue with me and when all was said and done, they paved the way and had everything ready and in place for him in 2 days. I have NEVER had such cooperation from a school in my life! They were great last year about dealing with some of his issues, getting him extra help where he needed it. No questions, they just did it. Then, 2 days into this year, they step up for us again.

So Tuesday night, after Scouts, we had to break the news to him, having just found out ourselves at 5 that night that the school was ready for him to make the move, 2 days into his new school year. An important note here: this is the first year he has been at a school for more than 1 grade, we have moved a lot and he has attended a different school every year since he started Kindergarten. He was excited to have friends in his class and see his other friends at recess.

So we give him the news. He looks at me with the saddest face I have ever seen and just sobs..."What about my friends? I finally have friends that I love from last year!" I felt like someone roundhouse kicked me in the heart and the gut at the same time. My emotions went all Chuck Norris on me. How can I do this to him? I wasn't sure I could now and was on the verge of tears myself. My poor child has just had 2 major (major to HIM) life events go bad on him and I didn't know if either one of us could deal with the disappointment.

So we talked and talked and talked some more and then we prayed, because I didn't know what else to do. We prayed as a family, then Big Brother prayed some more. His prayer was so heartfelt and sincere, I could not believe for a second that a loving Heavenly Father could not answer it. After all of the talking was done and we had worked through the situation with him, he said he would give it a try. He cried for a few more moments, then stopped. Throwing his arms around my neck, he looked into my eyes and told me he loved me and that he felt so much love right now that he thought he would be okay.

Dad tucked him in and I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I woke up the next morning, sobbing. I quit long enough to get him to school, his new 3rd grade teacher had his desk ready and scooped him up with a big hug and welcomed him to class. His 4th grade teacher asked me to request her for next year so that he could feel welcome in her class again. (She has cancer...I pray she recovers and is still there next year!) I got in the car and sobbed all the way home and then sobbed for 2 more hours after that.

I went back to school to pick them up, puffy-eyed and weary, but hopeful. Big Brother came running out with a cupcake (someone's birthday!) and started telling me about all of his new friends in 3rd grade and a few old friends from 4th grade who asked where he was (he told them he switched classes, nobody asked anymore questions and they all moved on to talking about Star Wars. Boys! Where's the processing, the emotion?).

I was worried and sobbing for 2 days...he was fine! He is fine. He is a kind, loving, brave, courageous boy who gives me strength and makes me want to try harder to be a better mother for him every day. And I love his guts for showing me how to handle disappointment and change in our lives. Big Brother Rocks Out Loud!!