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!