Bad Case O' Southern

Every now and then I gets me a bad case o' Southern.  It starts out with a little rain, like right now.  A stormin' but not a blowin'.  Just enough that you can sit out on the front porch without getting wet.  When its hotter than a June Bug's ass outside, a little rain makes for a nice coolin' spell.

A good bottle of sour mash whiskey then adds to the evening, drenched with a little Co-cola from a glass bottle.  Ice.  Lots of ice.  I'll stop by the kitchen and make a peanut butter and banana sandwich on the way out the front door.  The wife motions for me to grab the gin bottle and the good crystal.

I pull out two chairs and place them close to the brick steps but just out of the trickle of rain that is still falling.  Our old dog takes his place between us and sets a spell.  The dusk falls to night and the neighbor's porch light is all I can see besides the ever present lightin' bugs.

Its cool out now and my wife swings her bare feet to the music coming from her I-phone.  She don't say much.  Just a soft smile and her big brown eyes.

The babies are asleep...

So is the dog.

I'm drifting in and out of dreams.

Life's good with a good wife.

Hot

Damn its hot.  The heat index is 110 degrees today in Atlanta.  The pool water is so warm that you can't stay in more than about 20 minutes.  The concrete will bake your feet.

What do you do with an infant when it is scorching outside?

Nothing.  You stay trapped inside hoping the air conditioner doesn't play out.

My five year old is going crazy.  We tried to go get something to eat this afternoon but the car's air conditioner just wouldn't get it cool enough to stand driving.  The metal on the roof of the car is too hot to touch. 

There is a rumor that it might rain today, but there are no clouds in the sky.  Yesterday it sprinkled for a while and my daughter and I danced in the rain in the front yard.  It felt good and the clean air filled our lungs.

Poor baby.  We'll just keep her inside.

Late Night Sing-a-long

It was late when I got home tonight.  That's happened a lot lately.  I arrived just in time to put the children to bed.  They were both washed and clean, smelling of flowers and strawberries.  Both dressed in pink pajamas they each took their place on my lap, close together.

We sang songs.  Taylor more than the baby...but she helped us by laughing.  We sang about twinkling stars, magic dragons and cowboys.  Cowboys was my idea.  We did the Hokey Pokey with me holding the baby's arms and legs.  What fun!

Marie put the baby down and I read books to Taylor.  We love Fancy Nancy and a book about animals in the spring time.  Grandfather Twilight will have to wait until tomorrow since it is late.  That book is starting to show some wear.  It is now committed to my memory but we must still see the pictures.

Together we talked about going to the mountains and how we might see a bear.  We like bears.  Many of our books are about forest animals like alligators and squirrels.  We love alligators!  It is fun to see the animals that we read about.

Taylor likes to jump on my head after books and we wrestle to the floor.  A quick tuck and twenty kisses and she is asleep.  Yet, I see her peak at me with her large green eyes as I close the door and say goodnight.

She'll sleep good...

Daddy will too.

Raspberries

"What is that sound?"
"Don't know...where is it coming from, honey?"
"I think its in the baby's room."
"She's asleep...I just fed her and she was sound snoozing!"
"I better check..."

The great joy that I have with my children is watching them learn.  My oldest cried at her first swim meet.  She fell off her scooter six times in one day.  She forgets the word "the" when she reads.  But when she perfects a skill or learns something new the joy and happiness she shows will light up the room.

Baby Katie is learning, too!

Today, we are blowing raspberries.

Now for those of you that don't know what a raspberry is I'll walk you through it.  Put your lips together and then let your tongue protrude between them.  Then blow air past your tongue and lips to make a loud, wet, buzzing sound as your tongue flops around like a dead squid.  That's a raspberry.

Katie is in her room practicing her new found skill.  She is quite diligent and has been going "ppllllbbbbsssttttt!" for an hour know.  I saw the look of determination in her little face.  This is serious business, the blowing of raspberries.  The crib is now showered with slobber. 

Oh, I can't wait for church on Sunday!

Shaking Baby Syndrome

I first heard about shaken baby syndrome when we had our first child.  We went to a course on baby care at the hospital and the old nurse that was teaching the class told us about it.  She said that a common way of death for infants was called shaken baby syndrome and it is caused by the parents violently shaking the baby.  Almost half of all abused children die this way and usually from 60% male parents.

"Like making a Martinin?  That kind of shaking?"
"Shut up Mr. Perry, this is serious."
"Yeah right, like this might have happened once, and for a parent on Cocaine or something?"
"An estimated 1,600 children a year in the US die from this!"
"No way!  How barbaric!  This can't possible be happening that frequently!"

I laughed at the old lady on the way out of the hospital.  They are always telling you about these rare, oddball instances that happen, like babies drowning in a bucket.

The past two nights I've been up with Katie.  She cries.  She cries some more.  I can't settle her down.  Hours go by so slowly.  No sleep.  She settles and I turn off the light and lay down to sleep and she wakes up again.  On and on, over and over, 1:00 am, 2:00 am, 3:00 am.  She throws up on me.  I change her clothes time after time after time.  The monotony.

Yes, shaking baby syndrome is serious.  I can so see how it happens.  Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter and would never intentionally harm her.  I'm so sorry that she feels so bad.  But the frustration, the exhaustion, the lack of sleep just build up and irritate you more and more.  The headaches.  The backaches.  All I want to do is to make it QUIET!  QUIET!  QUIET!

I can see how it can happen.  Other men that I know have experienced the same thing.  You just want the baby to shut the hell up at any cost.

God protect my baby.  Make her sleep.

Butt Massage

"You want me to do WHAT?"
"Massage her anus."
"Are you out of your ever lovin' mind?"
"No, that is what the doctor said to do and it works."

It appears that the baby has inherited my wife's uptight-ness.  Little Katie has trouble pooping.  From what I can tell, talking in man-terms, her release valve and pressure system are not working in tandem.

Picture this...

You have a moonshine still.  You heat the squeezin's up and it vaporizes the alcohol.  The alcohol vapor moves through the copper tubing and gradually builds up pressure.  Luke is supposed to go to the thump barrel and turn the tap while he catches the shine in a mason jar.  But what if old Luke has to go into town for supplies, or has been sippin' on the last batch and doesn't turn the valve?  The pressure from the increasing amount of alcohol in the pipe continues to grow in pressure.  Soon, very soon the top of the mountain blows off the map.

Ok, maybe that is a bad explanation.

Either way, as you build up a supply of poopies and continue to put pressure on your valve, you'll soon need to relieve the pressure or burst the baby.  So the doctor has us remove her diaper and rub her little tushie with a warm rag to help her relax.

So I take off Katie's diaper and she immediately begins to grunt.  And grunt.  And GRUNT!  The pressure continues to build.  And build.  And BUILD!  I rub and rub and rub.

BANG!  SPEW!

A snot green line of crap shoots out of baby Katie, across the changing table, over the carpet and directly into the doorway about three feet away.  And it spews.  And spews.  And SPEWS!

Baby Katie smiles.  She has relief.

Daddy grabs the carpet cleaner.  Its going to be a long night.

Old Faithful

Hi friends!  I guess you thought I died.  Close to it, we had a baby.

Sorry for not posting but little Katie has been having a hard time with reflux.  Just like our Taylor did when she was little.  We have her on a second round of stomach medicine, a specially formulate (hand compounded by a pharmacist) and hoping she will get some sleep.  She cries most of the time.

Poor Marie has had hardly any sleep and I feel very sorry for her.  Luckily her friends have been bringing meals and will stop and visit her every day so she does get some company.

In the mean time Katie drinks as much milk as she can so that her stomach doesn't hurt.  Usually too much.  Then it comes right back up.  Just like Old Faithful, the geyser.  I'm tired of changing shirts.

So much has gone on.  Tons of doctor visits.

I'll try to catch up more this weekend, but in the mean time, pray for little Katie to get better.