The Great Poop Mystery of 2016

Parenting is tough. There's late nights, there's doctor appointments, and there's mass quantities of poop. Having kept our son alive and well for 6+ months, we feel that we have had our fair share of all of the above and have paid some parenting dues. But as we were taught last night, poop karma had other plans...

 

I had just picked Clark up from daycare and opened the front door after a long, hard day. I was greeted by the distinct aroma of a dirty diaper. It had been a hectic morning when we were trying to get everyone out the door, so I assumed in our haste, we had forgotten to throw away the first diaper of the day. After I set Bubba down and carefully scanned the living room for the culprit diaper, I realized that must be the case, as there was no diaper in sight.

 

My next best guess from my tenure as a parent was that our dog had had an accident. She has an incredibly delicate digestive system, and we were unable to get her to go to the bathroom before we left for work that day; usually a sure sign that we will be spending our evening shampooing and disinfecting a room of our house. I hadn't taken her out since I'd been home, so I was growing confident that Mia was the trouble maker. I scoured each room of the house, stopping to sniff every few moments, but I couldn't find anything.

 

Exhausted from the long work day, I settled into some pajamas and started to play with Clark. Every few minutes, I would get another distinct whiff of the foul smell. Clark has christened every article of clothing that we own with baby vomit, and on occasion, other bodily fluids, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that I was wearing remnants of a recent diaper change. Too tired to look any further, I lit a candle, changed pajama shirts, and relaxed.

 

Ryan came home not long after, and the moment he opened the door, he sniffed and made the same awful face I had an hour earlier. I exclaimed, 'I know! It smells like poop, but I can't find a stray diaper or wipe or even a gift from Mia!' Also exhausted, Ryan did a preliminary lap of all the places any of the above would usually be found, Febreezed the living room, and settled into the couch.

 

I handed the baby off and went to make myself a snack. Upon sitting down in the chair I had been in all evening, I looked at Ryan and nearly yelled, 'I just smelled poop again!' Feeling confident that a diaper had fallen down the back of the recliner, I leapt up, flipped the chair over, and starting taking in long, deep breaths. Hey - I smell a small person's butt several times a day, so smelling a chair didn't feel like I was stooping any lower than usual.

 

'I can't find it, but I swear there is a dirty diaper in this chair, Ryan!' The figurative lightbulb went off above both of our heads as we remembered that we had changed a dirty diaper in that very chair earlier that morning. Ever willing to help, Ryan handed Clark back to me and started digging in the chair himself.

 

A few seconds and a series of grunts that increased with intensity and disgust at each breath, my husband pulled his hand from in between the side and the cushion of the chair, and stood in the middle of our living room stoically. Mia jumped to her feet and had a sudden interest in Ryan's hand, while he stood there frozen like a statue, and the cold hard reality hit me. There was poop on his hand. Which meant there was poop in the chair. Loose, uncontained, God only knows how much poop. In the chair. Not on the chair, but IN the chair. Wedged. Smashed. Rotting even more than the original state of poop, which is awful in and of itself.

 

After Ryan unfroze and frantically washed his hands, my dear husband came back to the living room armed with baby wipes and plastic bags and heroically cleaned baby poop out from the inside of the chair I had been sitting in for hours. We deduced that a stray piece of poop had rolled out of the diaper and lodged itself between the arm and the cushion.

 

Tonight, I am thankful for a baby who is cute enough to help me forget this trauma, for a husband who isn't afraid to (literally) get his hands dirty so I don't have to, and for leather chairs. Seriously, thank you Jesus for leather chairs!

Clark is 3, 4, and 5 Months Old!

I've had months 3, 4, and 5 partially drafted both in my mind and on the blog, but we have been so dang busy enjoying this little bundle of joy, having grandparents in several times, and somehow managing to stay mostly present in our full time jobs that I have neglected documenting it all. So this post will be a recap of our last 90ish days...

Our baby is growing so fast! He is still pretty tiny for his age, and we often get asked if he was a preemie, which makes this momma a tad bit sensitive. Our pediatrician assures us that he is healthy and growing so we shouldn't worry, and I am trying to heed her advice. Clark has developed some rather scrumptious fat baby thighs, which is a nice change from the scrawny chicken legs we started out with. A funny story about his size is that in March, his friend T.K., who is 6 days younger than Clark, gifted him with some outfits that T.K. had outgrown. Clark is still wearing those outfits comfortably! I am happy to say, though, that at 5 months old, he has officially outgrown his newborn clothes.

He was measuring so small, in fact, that we had to set alarms through the night to wake him up and force him to eat. Starting at about 8 weeks, Clark tried to sleep 12 hours straight - we take our sleep pretty seriously in this family, even from a young age! At his 4 month appointment, we received the green light to let him sleep through the night, and it has been nothing short of glorious!

He is not a huge fan of being in the car, especially at red lights - he has a little road rage and will tolerate the car if we're driving continuously, but he voices his displeasure at having to stop for any reason. Speaking of voicing things, Clark has found his voice and will chat away with us several times a day. He especially likes to talk to his dad (he gets all the smiles, too!) - topics of interest include St Louis sports teams and Fender guitars.

Grandma and Grandpa Higdon made it to Iowa a few months ago, and have been soaking up as much Clark time as they can get. He particularly likes showing off for them; rolling from front to back for them at month 4 and refusing to do it for anyone else ever since. They watched him while mom and dad had our first overnight away, and I received a text that he was rolling front to back all morning. 5 weeks later, he hasn't done it a single time since. Just last week, they were also witness to him rolling back to front, and even caught it on video for us! True to form, Clark hasn't rolled over for anyone else to date.

He is starting to notice our dog Mia, which has been really fun to watch. He also looooooooves watching tv. His favorite programs so far are Cardinals baseball and anything on Bravo - he's definitely our kid! Daddy makes Clark cackle with laughter when he eats his belly, and he passes the time by eating his apparently delicious toes. He drools constantly, and has for about 8 weeks, but still no teeth. We can see those pearly whites through his gums, but they are stubborn little suckers who refuse to pop through!

Clark isn't quite to the stranger danger phase yet, but we have noticed that anytime someone else holds him, he looks awfully hard for mom and dad. We all met his baby cousin Reed recently, and I think he got a little jealous - as I snuggled Reed, Clark jabbered rather angrily in my direction until I picked him up as well. I think he was making his case for being an only child!

We spent our first Mother's and Father's Days hanging out with our little guy and being so very thankful that Clark is the reason we get to celebrate those days. He is the happiest baby I have ever met, and is so easy to care for. He only cries when he is tired or hungry, and is becoming so interactive and fun to play with.

I'm going to play the 'cute baby' card and hope that by overloading you with pictures, you will forgive me for the absence on here:

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 Months Old

It seems like just last week I was writing Clark's 1 Month blog post...oh wait, that's right, it was last week. I am in the running for Mom of the Month, so today's update is actually on the right day - Clark is two months old!

He weighs in at 10 pounds, 9 ounces and measures 22 inches long. He's in the 12th percentile for height and 8th percentile for weight - just a little guy! His pediatrician says he has a bright future ahead of him as a horse jockey! He still wears newborn clothes, but is inching closer to the 0 - 3 month size stuff. He eats 4 ounces every 4 hours, and Daddy has turned him into a diva who will only drink a warm bottle.

Some highlights from this month were starting Daycare, learning how to jibber jabber and tell lots of tales, and starting to sleep much better in his bassinet (as long as he is tightly swaddled in his baby straightjacket!). Clark got to attend his first Super Bowl party this month, and he has started smiling more and more every day. He also took another trip to Cedar Rapids with Momma to see his Aunts, Uncles, and cousins.

A couple of lowlights from his second month were attending Great Grandma Kay's funeral (but he did get to meet lots of family he hadn't seen yet), and getting his first cold.

His nicknames are still Bubba, Tooters, Clarkie, Booger Butt, and Daddy has added 'Clark Bar'. Clark Skypes with Grandma and Grandpa Higdon several times a week, and he smiles great big whenever Grandpa says, 'Packers, Packers, Packers!' so we either have a budding cheesehead on our hands, or he just thinks Grandpa is funny - the jury is still out.

He still looks very similar to his Daddy, although he did get his first 'You look just like your mom!' last week, so I guess that makes the final tally 843 votes for Dad and 1 for Mom. It's a tight race. His puppy dog, Mia, is a great big sister who watches over him during Tummy Time, kisses his nose every morning, and even lets Momma park Clark against her. Clark hasn't reciprocated the love quite yet, but we're confident he'll learn to love her as much as she loves him.

1 Month Old

I'm a week or two (or four) late - so sue me. I'm just a little busy with a newborn, a full time job, and a house and a life to keep in order.

 

 

 

Clark is one month old! He is 8 pounds, 4 ounces and measures 21 inches. He eats 3 ounces every 3 hours, sleeps (mostly) in his bassinet in between feedings, recognizes daddy's voice, and keeps his eyes firmly planted on his momma no matter who is holding him. His likes include sleeping, snuggling with mom and dad, eating, sitting in his bouncy seat, and taking warm baths. Clark's dislikes include diaper changes, being awake, and being in his swing while awake (double whammy!).

 

He is getting very good at grabbing onto things like a knitted blanket and momma's long hair, is a champion belcher (like, grown man beer drinking burps...impressive and a little gross all at once!), and he's finally starting to fill out his newborn clothes.

 

Some highlights from this month were: taking his first out of town trip to see Aunt Tammy, Uncle Bob, Aunt Robin, Morgan, Aunt Becky, and Nick and Janna, going to church for the first time and sleeping through the whole service except the music (just like when he was in mom's belly!), and being mom's assistant at work. Momma's co-workers love him so much that they are disappointed on days when I don't bring him with me!

 

A couple of lowlights from his first month were an unexpected hospital stay (all better now!), and having some of his hair fall out on top of his head while simultaneously battling his first bout of acne - a combination that momma has coined his 'teenage-slash-old-man phase'...luckily, this should pass quickly.

 

His nicknames are vast depending on who you ask, but the ones that seem to have stuck the most so far are 'Bubba' (from Momma), 'Tooters' (also from Momma), 'Clarkie' (from Daddy), 'Clark the Shark' (also from Daddy), and 'Booger Butt' (from Aunt Tammy). I'm sure he'll appreciate those in his senior yearbook!

   

 

 

Swing or Torture Chamber?

Clark may only be 6 weeks old, but he already has a pretty distinct list of likes and dislikes. Much like his mom and dad, there is no real grey area for him when it comes to his temperament - when he is displeased, he lets it be known.

 

He's very particular about his preferences, and he's not afraid to let you know if you aren't obliging his wishes. Clark isn't a huge fan of being awake, so it is a bit of a struggle to keep his eyes open during the day. He will tolerate being alert for about 45 minutes immediately after eating, but only if you are bouncing him. We have biceps of steel after continuously bouncing the equivalent of a bowling ball for an hour at a time multiple times a day. And his choice of view whilst being bounced must be either staring at us or the ceiling fan. I would like to think that I am his preference to look at, but really, it's a tight race with the fan.

 

When our arms give out and we can't hold him any longer, Clark will accept being placed in his bouncy seat, but his first choice is to be in the carrier that is strapped to my chest. Sidebar: I am pretty sure there is security footage from Toys R Us that would win an episode of America's Funniest Home Videos starring yours truly trying to get myself and my baby into and out of various baby wearing contraptions. Thirty minutes and a sweaty, uncoordinated new mom later, we settled on the one that has a 6 point 'click' system so that I could rest assured that I probably wouldn't be dropping my baby on the floor when placing him in said carrier.

 

The downfall of both the carrier and the bouncy seat is that Clark uses them both as beds. This kid LOVES his sleep, and will take any opportunity he can find to catch some shuteye. Searching for something that we could use when our arms get tired from bouncing him and also wanting to promote awake time, we recently introduced Clark to his fancy schmancy baby swing.

 

This swing has 5 speeds, 10 noise options ranging from songs to ocean waves to crickets chirping, an adjustable volume switch, and hanging koalas for him to look at while swinging. Ryan spent an hour assembling the swing using an instruction manual entirely made of complicated diagrams, and I made a late night run to the store for the right size batteries because I couldn't wait one more minute to put him in it. He loves being swung to and fro when in his carseat and his bouncy seat, so we just knew that he would also love his swing. 

 

The verdict? He hates it. Like, really hates it. We're talking 'scream your head off for fifteen consecutive minutes while your mom tries every noise/volume/speed setting and tries to reason with you and tell you how much you love your swing, which just seems to make you angrier' hates it.

 

 

As a mom, I do pretty well with his crying. I don't ever rush to pick him up, but instead I try to give him a few minutes to work it out on his own. Before you send me an email, I carefully watch to make sure he is okay and not in danger, and then I try talking to him or offering his pacifier or various other methods to help him practice self soothing. Then, I set a time limit of when I will pick him up if he hasn't calmed himself down. My one caveat to this rule is when he gets real tears. Real tears rolling down his cheek and that sweet bottom lip curled under, and I am rendered helpless. Such was the case this morning after his swing induced meltdown, so I caved and rescued him from the apparently terrifying koala contraption.

 

 

Five minutes of cuddling on mom's chest and staring at the ceiling fan, and all was right in Clark's world. He used his harrowing experience to his advantage and looked so peaceful and content that I gave in and let him go to sleep on me. As much as I would love to cuddle him all day long, this house doesn't clean itself and we can't afford a live in maid, so I bundled him up in one of his favorite blankets and we tried the swing again.

 

 

It turns out that as long as he is sound asleep and has no awareness of where he is, he is mostly okay with the swing. So now his list of things to use as a bed include (in extremely particular order): mom and dad's arms, the carrier, his bouncy seat, a bassinet, and a swing.

Babies Are Gross..And Adorable...But Mostly Gross

If our house were an industrial factory, we would have to change the 'Days Without A Bodily Fluid Related Incident' sign to say '0'. In the last 4 weeks and 2 days, we have pretty well managed to avoid any disasters. Unless you count the time Clark peed through his and his dad's outfit while they were both napping. My favorite part of that story? They were both so tired that neither one noticed until I picked him up and pointed it out!

 

Today, I was Clark's victim. Having been around several babies in my day, I am a pretty seasoned diaper changer and can get the job done at a near NASCAR pit stop pace. This morning, I apparently let my guard down and whilst getting the first side of his diaper fastened, my baby managed to pee everywhere. I have never been great at geometry, so I can't tell you at what degree the trajectory was coming, but I can tell you that it was impressive.

 

With his diaper half on, he peed through the top of the Pampers, down the side of the chair, and onto the floor. Somewhere in there, my socks were sacrificed on Clark's behalf to the golden shower gods. In no more than 5 seconds, my child, my furniture, my floor, and my socks were all in need of a serious cleaning. I don't think they make a Hoover carpet shampoo specifically for infant smells, but luckily, we do have a large container of their Pet Plus brand on hand at all times. For anyone wondering, there isn't all that much difference between a newborn and a puppy...at least as it pertains to getting their urine out of the carpet.

 

I'm getting a little ahead of myself, though. Before I could even get the shampooer out, I picked up the peeing machine and put him in his carrier strapped to my chest. Within a minute, while I was still sanitizing the recliner he had christened, I heard it. I may only be 4 weeks into being a parent, but I am already well versed in the sound every parent knows and fears. The sound that alarm clocks should make, because it causes such an immediate reaction that the 'snooze' button would quickly become extinct. I'm talking about the unmistakable sound of baby puke.

 

The moment I heard it happen, I reached to wipe him off when I noticed that he didn't have a drop on him. Like, not a drop. Not on his outfit, not on his mouth, nowhere. I, on the other hand, had it in more places than I care to list, the most horrifying being in my hair. In. My. HAIR! This child was literally strapped to my body and had not a drop of vomit on himself, yet somehow it was in my beautifully flat ironed locks.

 

His next move? Immediately falling asleep on my chest. An hour and a half later, the carpet is freshly shampooed, a load of laundry is done and a second load is in the works, and he is still knocked out. There's also still puke in my hair, but when this is your view, what's a little dried vomit in your messy bun?

 

 

Having a Baby AND A Life

Clark is a big 3 week old now! It is utterly amazing how much time goes into keeping one tiny person alive, fed, bathed, and dressed on a daily basis. He's actually pretty easy to take care of, just time consuming. The challenge is getting anything else accomplished - like, say, getting ourselves dressed or fed.

 

In those three weeks, we have managed to have a teeny tiny bit of normalcy in the form of two dates. Like, we left the house together and didn't take Clark and actually got to be 'Ryan and Heidi' for a few hours instead of 'Mom and Dad'. It. Was. Splendid! It was also, apparently, nearly cause for having CPS called on us.

 

We posted a picture of us on our date on social media, and people freaked the freak out on us. It didn't help that I had also gone back to work for 4 hours that day and the mommy police were already on a stakeout in front of my Facebook page, just waiting to judge my next move. Here's the thing - I work a mile away from home, at a desk job, and he was in the care of  his FATHER, not a stranger I met at the mall. Despite the 1950s belief that is still floating around out there, Ryan is not a babysitter - he is an equally capable PARENT, who is more than qualified to care for our son by himself. And he's pretty freaking awesome at it, too.

 

Despite my Mother of the Year award apparently being in jeopardy due to the fact that I left the house without my child within the first 3 months of his life, we risked it and went out to dinner. Contrary to the reaction on Facebook, we did not leave him in the kennel with Mia and go gallivanting around town for six hours. Clark was snuggled with a responsible CPR certified adult who is a seasoned childcare professional. He was fine.

 

Was it hard to leave him? A little. Honestly, I fully expected to cry when we dropped him off, even though I completely trust the good friend who offered to watch him for a few hours. But as we got in the car and headed off to a real dinner, with real conversation, and not having to wipe anyone else's butt, I was giddy. It felt like all of the fun things of a first date, with the security and comfort that comes with being married.

 

Clark is awesome. He's cute and snuggly and sweet and funny and we are so over the moon in love with him that I can't even find sufficient words to describe how much our hearts burst for him. But he's also needy, and smelly, and only sleeps for 3 hours at a time, and he doesn't contribute at all to the upkeep of our house. That makes for 2 exhausted parents who still have to take care of ourselves, our jobs, our dog, and our house...on top of all of the new responsibilities we find ourselves elbow deep in (literally).

 

We made a promise to our pastor and to each other before we were ever married that we would make a weekly date night a priority before we had kids specifically so that we would be in the habit of going once we had kids. It has been such a positive part of our marriage for 3.5 years - we each look forward to Monday night every week because we know that no matter what else is going on in life (like being invaded by a 7.5 pound adorable tiny human who requires almost all of our daily attention), we will have a few hours of focused attention on one another. No work, no phones, and now, no kids.

 

Those 2.5 hours of getting to be Ryan and Heidi are important not only for us, but we believe they are just as important for Clark. One of our overarching goals for his life is to teach him to not be afraid. We believe that exposing him early to new people, experiences, and a sense of independence from us will serve him well in the long run. And us going on a date each week without him not only fosters those principles in him, but it also allows us to keep our relationship as a priority. I may not win any friends with this ideal, but our goal as parents, from the very first moment of Clark's life is to prepare him to leave us and to be successful when he does so. It is also our goal to still be happily married in 18 years when this baby bird gets a shove gentle nudge out of our nest.

In case you are questioning our cold, made of stone hearts, here's some photographic evidence that we love our child and spend 99% of our time bonding with him, and also that he's the cutest baby ever:

 

Introducing Clark Scott

Clark Scott, you made your debut in this world on 12/29/2015 at 9:22am, weighing 7 pounds and measuring 20 inches. Thanks to your amazing dad, an angel on earth of a nurse, and your speediness (thank you!), it was a relatively easy 13 hour labor and delivery.

You look exactly like your dad - lucky for you, he's the best looking guy around! Your lips have perfectly defined peaks like his, your cheeks take up half of your face like his, you both have unfairly naturally long beautiful eyelashes (I pay good money to make my lashes look half that length!), and when I catch a glimpse of your eyes, they take my breath away the same way his do. I can only hope that you'll also inherit his sense of humor, his quiet strength, his passion for fun, and his love for Jesus. I would add that I hope you're even a smidgen as gifted of a musician as he is, but with half of your genes coming from me, the deck is stacked against you...sorry about that one!

We first learned that you would become a part of our family on Monday, May 4th, 2015 - Star Wars Day. Please don't grow up to love Star Wars - your mom doesn't understand any of it, or how it is different from Star Trek. We were thrilled, terrified, and in a little bit of disbelief that you were real...similar to how we feel right now.

Your name is very special to us, and it comes from both sides of your family tree. Long before I met your dad, I had started a list of future names that I would like for my children. My top two names were Ryann (for a girl), and Sloane (for a boy or a girl). Then I fell in love with a tall, handsome, wonderful man that you will know as "dad", but to the rest of the world, he is Ryan Sloan. And because he is the biggest party pooper of all time, he wouldn't let me name you Sloane Sloan.

Your name comes from your Great Uncle --- Larry Clark. You won't get to meet him in this lifetime, but I assure you, that you will hear stories about him for all of your days. He was your mom's uncle - Grandpa Higdon's only sibling - and he was one of my very favorite people in all of the world. He passed away when I was just a teenager, but he made a lasting impact on my life.

As you may have gathered by now, Clark is an homage to him. Also, Will Clark was your dad's favorite baseball player when he was growing up. He became a St. Louis Cardinal at the end of his career, and Clark Street is the street where Busch Stadium is found (you'll learn that we take our Cardinals baseball very seriously in this family!).

That brings us to Scott. Your Great Grandma Kay's maiden name was Scott, which she gave your Pop as a middle name. He passed it onto your dad, and we are passing it onto you. Knowing our rebellious personalities, you'll probably be the one in the family who refuses to carry on the tradition, but that's a story for another day.

We found out that you were a boy on Friday, August 14th, 2015...your Great Uncle Larry's birthday. In a further point of significance, it is also your Great Aunt Donna's birthday - Grandpa Higdon's brother and Grandma Higdon's sister had the same birthday! The irony was not lost on me, as we already knew what your name would be whether you were a boy or a girl, and I couldn't help but feel like it was a wink from my Uncle Larry that day.

He didn't have any kids of his own, but he always treated me like the most important person in the room. I was a picky eater as a kid (your dad will tell you that I still am...don't listen to him!), but I loved Goldfish crackers and chicken strips with French fries. Every time we visited his house, the minute I walked through the door, he would take my hand and walk me to the kitchen where he would open the lazy Susan and point out the industrial sized box of Goldfish crackers, and give me a wink like it was our secret. Because he didn't have children of his own, he wasn't great with respecting a kid's undying wish to be "bigger" (it's overrated - stay little for as long as you can!), and he always referred to me as "The Baby". When I was 16 years old and driving a car, he still only called me "The Baby". I hated it at the time, but as I look back on it, I love that he did that. Every single time the adults would be discussing where to go to dinner, Uncle Larry would chime in with "It needs to have chicken strips and French fries - the baby likes that." Again, he had no kids of his own, so he didn't realize that literally every restaurant in the world serves that meal. Long after my food preferences had grown to accommodate many other meals, Uncle Larry made sure that wherever we ate had the great delicacy known as "chicken strips and fries".

He was a very, very funny man. Just like your dad and grandfathers, there was always laughter when he was in the room. Big, booming, deep laughter that filled your soul with joy. I hope that you'll laugh as often as he did - it really is medicine for your soul. Most of the funny stories I know about Uncle Larry aren't terribly appropriate for someone your age, but ask me someday what "Just patting the dog" and "Two pats and a push" means...I promise you, I will remember.

As an extra little tidbit, after we had your name decided, we realized that when mom lived in Las Vegas, I lived in Clark County. Since moving to our current town, we live in (and you were born in) Scott County. You'll learn that your dad is a geography nerd, so I find it pretty fitting that your name also has a nod to that.

Tonight is your first night home. You and I are snuggled on the couch as I write this while the rest of the house gets some much needed sleep. I keep stopping just to look at you, kiss your head, and thank God for the millionth time for picking us to be your parents. We prayed for you before you were conceived, we prayed for you while I was pregnant, we prayed for you while you were being born, and we'll pray for you every day for the rest of our lives.

We love you, Clark Scott. Welcome to this crazy ride!