The Unprotected World Ahead

It’s January 1, 2017 at 10:17 am. A brand new year. My husband just called and woke me up. He was surprised that I was still sleeping. Where are the kids? He asked. They’re sleeping too, I replied. He was shocked. Because trust me, this never happens. I also don’t usually let them stay up until midnight. It was New Years Eve though, so I made them. Yep. I did. I MADE my kids stay up late. This is a shocking move in a world where moms are protecting our children from everything. Keeping them safe and locked up from all danger. Children need rest. They shouldn’t stay up late. It will make them so cranky and tired tomorrow. So. Don’t we moms stay up late once in a while, even though we know it will make us cranky and tired? Yes. So why can’t our children? They can’t handle it? Won’t they stay up late in college cramming for an exam and have to take said exam in the morning when they’re tired? Yes. They will. Let’s prepare them for that.

Last night at our neighborhood new years gathering, one of my neighbors was walking around handing pretty sparklers to the children around the bon fire. My kids gladly grabbed them and started swinging them around the air. I told them to stay away from people. I think that’s reasonable. One little girl reached out her little gloved hand and her mom immediately pulled her hand down. NO! She said, daddy said they’re too dangerous. Her little face fell. What exactly was that little sparkler going to do? Let’s search on our smart phones sparkler accidents and find a whole page on the remote serious possibilities of sparkler gone wrong scenarios. There, found them. Perfect. Now moms can say, here’s the proof that I need to make sure my child never gets hurt from a sparkler and that’s why he or she can’t have one for the 45 seconds they sparkle on a stick.

There’s a whole product line emerging of safety devices for children who are of the “toddler” age. These are designed to prevent kids from getting bumps, bruises and injuries while they toddle about. Parents already remove sharp furniture, pad all corners, lock all the cabinets but now we are padding the child too. Just. In. Case. Again, pick up your phone and start googling. You’ll find all kinds of articles and stories about the freak accident that harmed a child when their little bruise turned into something worse. “We could have prevented that with a helmet!” the makers of toddler padding devices are saying. Boom. Someone is making a ton of money on padding for toddlers. Darn, I missed my opportunity to be a millionaire.

A few days ago, my nine year old son was unloading the dishwasher. This is one of his daily chores. There was a larger knife in the dishwasher. I was cooking breakfast. At the exact moment that he pulled the knife out of the dishwasher and it was headed towards the knife drawer, I turned around and leaned over to grab the syrup. Somehow, I’m not even sure how, I cut my hand on the knife. I looked down and cried out in pain, OW! My son instantly got very upset and ran to his room. A few minutes later I came up to talk to him and asked if we have ever talked about a “freak accident.” He said no. I explained to him that sometimes no matter how careful, freak accidents happen. Someone gets hurt because it was just the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing anyone could do about it. What you can do, I explained, is get me a bandaid and come finish your chore. Some people might not believe in freak accidents but I do. Some might say, knives don’t belong in the dishwasher. Probably true. Some might say, he’s too young to do the dishes. Definitely not true. Some might even take this particular chore and do it themselves to make sure that this doesn’t happen again. It’s safer this way. If I have to have a bandaid for a few days, my son learned something and I still get help with the dishes, then that’s the route I’m taking.

We cannot protect our children from everything. Moms, stop stressing out about all the little things that could remotely go wrong. Let your babies stay up late. Give them a sparkler. Stop putting padded helmets on those beautiful little baby heads. Babies are beautiful and those helmets are darn ugly. And guess what? Your child will get a bruise in their life. Unless you plan to make him or her wear a helmet for the rest of their lives. That might be award in college. Make your kids do the dishes and handle knives. It might be dangerous, but I surely hope they will be unloading the dishwasher many many times for the rest of their lives and they need practice. When we over protect our children, they don’t get to experience something amazing just because there’s a remote possibility of something going wrong. It’s so sad.

I know all about what it’s like to worry. Trust me. As a mom of four boys, we have a crazy life. These boys are all over the place all the time and I’ve always been a worrier. This morning, on this January 1st day of a brand new year, I’m vowing to worry less in 2017. I want to worry less. I want to experience the joys of all these amazing adventures we have without fearing the worst. The sun came up today. I told the boys they could have anything they wanted for breakfast, and I mean anything. Cookies, candy, ice cream, anything. Guess what they had? Oatmeal. Ha. Guess they’re not up for being wild and crazy today like I am, but I’ll keep encouraging them to live it up.

Time flies when you’re having fun

My baby turns one tomorrow. I told my husband I didn’t want to put him to sleep because if tomorrow never comes, he won’t turn one. That didn’t work, he still went to bed at 8pm. So maybe if I don’t go to sleep tomorrow won’t come and he won’t turn one. It’s 11:20pm. That probably won’t work either. It’s really amazing that one year ago, I was desperate (and I mean DESPERATE) for him to be born. I’m pretty sure this was the time that I asked for a epidural. The famous epidural that I wouldn’t get since my labor went so fast…but that’s a different story. Flash forward to right now and I desperately don’t want him to be one year old. He’s my baby. From tomorrow on I won’t have a baby, I’ll have a 1 year old. There will be no more firsts. He has experienced every holiday and a birthday too. He’s walked, talked, danced and done all of the amazing growing things that babies do. Now, he’s just going to grow and grow and become a master of all these skills and more. I’ve watched it happen three other times. The babies just grow up! Why?? Can’t I just go back to when they were tiny and need me and needed to nurse and looked at me and gave me those first smiles. I miss that. It goes too fast.

TIME moves too fast. Some people think that if you do nothing time will move slowly. They’re wrong. Time still goes by fast you’re just going to be bored while it goes. We are busy busy people. We fill our hours with house projects and productivity (i.e. work) and family outings and more. We just can’t sit still! Why would we do that when there is to much to do? Maybe it does make the time go a little faster but doesn’t the old saying go, time flies when you’re having fun? Maybe that’s what we’re doing all the time, having fun, and that’s why time flies.

Happy First Birthday my sweet fourth boy. It’s still 33 minutes away but I know that these last minutes before your birthday are going to fly by. I think I’ll go watch you sleep as a baby for just a little longer. There’s still time…maybe.

Let me apologize

For the past few months I have been working on processing through my grief. Let me clarify. I have everything a woman could ask for, a loving husband and four happy healthy children. I’m also a woman who had a life long dream of having a daughter. I’ve been told that it’s OKAY to grieve her. It’s OKAY to feel sad. I have been grieving. I have been sad. Throughout all this, I’m certain I have said things I shouldn’t have. To unsuspecting, loving people in my life for whatever reason ended up on the receiving end of an outburst, or four. I want to apologize for what I said when I was grieving. I know I don’t have to apologize. I know you’re understanding and kind, but still, no one likes to be on the receiving end of a grieving outburst. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the people that I love I was unkind to. Strangers too. Unsuspecting strangers who will never know the things I said about them in my head when I passed them in the store. I cursed them. I was so angry at them. They don’t deserve a daughter, I do. They don’t dress her like I would. They don’t do her hair like I would. They don’t deserve her. I’m sorry. God knows I really didn’t mean those things. He knows me. He knows that in all my anger and frustration I did what I felt I could do to release it. God knows my heart.

I am still processing these feelings and I might be for a while. It gets easier every day. Or does it get harder? Sometimes I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that these four boys have my heart and that will never change. I love them with everything.

Here’s the thing though.There’s a little girl out there who I dreamt of. I love her too. I’m sad that I didn’t get a chance to be her mom. Or will I? A part of me still holds out hope that maybe God does have a plan for my daughter and I. Someday maybe I’ll be able to look back and see the plan God had laid out for me. As for now, let me apologize for the things I think while I’m grieving.

The Last Nurse

Somehow you just know when it’s happening. You feel like you’re not sure if you want it to happen or not. But somehow you just know. It’s your last baby and it’s the last time you’ll nurse him. You’re surprised that it’s happening already, yet ready.

When I nursed my son for the last time, it was late at night. He woke up and I thought, I need to nurse him, it will be the last time. I felt like he knew it too. He latched on right away and nursed away. I closed my eyes and cherished those few moments. I don’t think he really got much milk, but he had me and I had him. Then I put him up against my chest and let him sleep there. At eight months, he rarely sleeps on me anymore. He’s so busy crawling and playing. When he’s tired he takes his bottle and likes his crib, his cozy place. As I held him I quickly grabbed my phone and snapped a photo. I will always remember that night. I will always remember the feeling of nursing him and holding him close.

When I was pregnant with our fourth baby my husband said this is it. Our family is complete and happy. As a woman I struggled with the decision to say no more babies. I love babies! At 32 years old I feel too young to be done. Yet, with four healthy, rowdy boys, I’m very certain I don’t want to add any more testosterone to my household. At this point the odds are stacked that any more babies would be of the male variety. And I’m full up on that.

Yet, where do I go from here?

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The Blue Blanket

Finally, our baby has arrived! So many things I had feelings about came true with this baby. The labor was fast and furious. My first time giving birth without an epidural. It wasn’t fun but it also wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be. I had a feeling this might happen so I had tried to prepare myself ahead of time. The cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck twice. The doctor removed it quickly and the baby was just fine. What’s interesting is that I had a feeling about this. I even mentioned it to my doctor a few weeks before the baby came. I was worried about the cord, which I had never worried about in my previous pregnancies. Then, the moment I had been waiting for, when my doctor flipped the baby over and called out “It’s a BOY!” That moment, I was shocked. I’m not sure I was fully processing those words. There was a slight complication and I was bleeding a little more than I should. So I was rushed off to a procedure to help the bleeding stop. When I was brought back to the delivery room, my husband and mother were waiting with my new son. My fourth son. My brand new baby, in a blue blanket.

Do I love him any less? No. Do I kiss him any less? No. In fact I think I’ve kissed him more than I’ve ever kissed my babies. We aren’t planning any more babies. A family of six is what I always wanted. Four kids, a fun childhood where everyone has a buddy to play with and a big loving family. It’s just that I never imagined that my four children would all be boys.  I actually imagined mostly girls with maybe one or two boys. So when I look at my new son, he makes me want to cry. Cry because it’s the last newborn I’ll snuggle to my breast to nurse. The last newborn diapers. Cry because I won’t have a little girl who looks like me. Cry because every baby in my life has turned out amazing and beautiful and perfect, just not exactly like I had pictured them. There aren’t any pink blankets. Just blue ones. I know that this is the way it was suppose to be. I know that boy or girl it doesn’t really matter. I know that eventually this will all make sense. But right now, I’m going to cry and I’m going to grieve.

It’s almost time!

This weekend we should meet our fourth baby! Crazy to think that the baby is finally ready to come out and meet the world. Will it be a boy? Will it be a girl? Will it have dark hair? Blue eyes? Its beyond exciting to imagine holding our little bundle so soon. These last couple weeks, the boy vs girl debate has kinda taken the back burner. The end of pregnancy is no walk in the park and at this point, boy or girl, I just want the baby to come out! I do still pray that God blesses us with a beautiful little girl. Although another beautiful little boy will be awesome too. Either way, a speedy delivery and a healthy baby is all we really care about.

I’m not sure the boys are fully prepared for life with the new baby. Everyone in the house seems to be feeling the pressure building. We’ve had more tears and cling on children than usual around here. Just wait until the baby comes, I’m thinking, then they’ll really see what it’s like when mommy is totally exhausted and pre-occupied with nursing, burping and newborn diapers. (I’m sewing burp cloths like crazy!) I know that in-spite of the challenges, everyone in the house will fall in love with the little bundle right away. Especially me.

Get ready world! The next time I write I’ll be introducing you to the newest Douthit bundle of joy! By the way, if it is a boy, I can’t guarantee he will have a name because we simply can’t agree on one….

Why I’m decorating the nursery pink…

I’ll admit it. It’s been a while since I blogged. I felt like I needed to sit down and write a series of catch up blogs about what’s been happening since I last wrote. But I was reminded that it’s just a blog. A place to write your honest feelings down. So here goes…

We’re 30 weeks pregnant with baby #4. We don’t know the gender. I’m too afraid to find out. I always wanted a little girl or two or three to dress up and play barbies and teach all about being a girly girl. When we found out our 3rd child was another boy, I cried. I cried all the time. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t think we’d have more children and I mourned the loss of my little girl dream. When they placed my third son in my arms, I cried. I cried because he was so beautiful and perfect and mine. I love him with all my heart. I love all my boys with all my heart. They are everything to me.

This time around, I don’t want cry through the rest of my pregnancy. I just want to imagine that this is a little girl kicking in my belly. I want to buy little girl clothes and call her by her beautiful little girl name. (Which is also a secret.)

So I’ve decided to decorate the nursery for a little girl. I’m making a flower mobile. I’m sewing pink curtains. I’m painting the walls yellow and bringing in turquoise pillows. I’ll hang her pink little clothes in the closet along with my own baby dresses.

I know it’s a 50/50 chance. There’s a very good chance I might bring home a beautiful baby boy to our pink nursery. If I do, I know I’ll survive. I’ll love that little boy with all my heart. I might cry when I take down the pink decor. I might cry a lot. BUT, I’ll have gotten a chance to decorate for that little girl I desire so much. Right now, I need that. These pregnancy hormones are crazy and I just need to believe with all my heart that this baby is a beautiful little girl. Call me crazy. I might be, but I’m going own these crazy feelings and be honest about them.

I’m going to believe that this baby is a girl. It might be. I might bring her home to her pink nursery and still cry. I don’t know what the future holds. I know that whatever happens, God is good. When the doctor places our fourth little miracle into my arms, nothing will matter. I will be in love with that little baby so much my heart will feel like it will burst.

In the end it won’t matter if it’s a boy or a girl, just a healthy beautiful baby, but right now to me it does.

The Summer of No TV

When I was a little I remember watching TV with my little brothers one sunny day in summer. My mom got home from work, saw us inside on a beautiful sunny summer day watching TV. She walked over unplugged the TV and walked away with it. That was that. The next year, she simply unplugged the TV after school got out and said you know the rules. Before long she didn’t have to do anything, we knew there was no TV in the summer. Do you know what I remember about my summers growing up? Certainly not all the TV I watched. I remember the forts, the games, biking, camping, hiking, and so much more.

This year, my two older boys turned 7 and 5. Late in April, I decided. This is the summer. They’re old enough to play in the yard without my constant supervision. This is the summer of NO TV. I made the announcement at the dinner table. Three boys (my husband and the two older boys) exclaimed “WHAT?” Followed by my husband saying, “that’s not going to last.” Thanks for the vow of confidence, by the way, honey. Anyway, I laid out the ground rules. There would be no TV from the last day of school until the first day of school. There would be one night

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a week that would be family movie night in which the boys could pick one movie and have popcorn. Also, the rule does not extend to grandparent’s houses. (What happens at

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Summer began. It was hard at first, but I kept reminding them about the rule and eventually, they stopped asking. Did you hear that? THEY STOPPED ASKING. It’s August, just under two weeks before the first day of school. My children no longer wake up and run upstairs to turn on the TV. They don’t even ask to watch a show in the afternoon.

Boy Clothes Blues

I’m sure you’ve seen a proud grandma in a store with a cart full of pink & purple outfits for her granddaughter. She’s finding ribbons and socks with bows and shouting out “Oh my gosh look at this!” Now picture the same scenario except she’s got a cart full of blue jeans and monster truck shirts. Yep, that’s what I thought, you can’t even picture it!

No one likes to shop for little boy clothes, not even grandparents! It’s just not fun. Boy clothes are not fun. They are primary colors, they are boring, they have trucks on them. Not fun. My girlfriend who has three girls gets adorable clothes from the grandparents for her little beauties. Boys don’t get clothes as gifts. I love shopping for little girl clothes when we are headed to the little princesses birthday party. When we are invited to a little boy

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birthday? We avoid clothing like the plague. We also try to avoid toys (see my previous blog post) but I do want the boys to have fun picking out a gift.

What is most frustrating is that clothing seems like a very

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logical gift option since boys a) have to wear clothes and b) go through clothes more than girls do.

Boys seem to destroy their clothes. I rarely buy them new clothes because they simply get destroyed with holes, stains and more just as quickly as second hand clothes. So I spend my summers scouring garage sales for good condition clothes and jeans without holes for their school clothes. I collect them in a large utility tote and present them to the boys just before school starts. They LOVE going through all the “new” clothes. (Money saving tip #474)

What toys?

About six months ago, I read a blog about a mom who

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packed up all her girls’ toys one day. Her daughters didn’t seem to mind, actually helped her. I chatted with friends and family about this idea. The main concept is to encourage imaginative play. As well as help your kids have an easier time cleaning their own room.

A couple of months ago, I decided to try it. It wasn’t a punishment, it was something the boys and I sat down and talked about. Each chose a toy collection they didn’t want to part with. Dain, the legos and Jackson the Chevron

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cars. So we kept both of those out and put everything else in the crawlspace. It was great! The boys loved how easy it was to clean up and how organized their room was. Over the past few months, the toys have snuck back up stairs gradually.

This morning I was being hounded by two “bored” little boys. I went into their room and looked around. TOY EXPLOSION! The room was a disaster. Toys, clothes, you name it, everywhere and they are BORED. So, I once again, started packing up toys. Guess what? They didn’t care. They shrugged and picked up one small truck. They’ve been playing with that one small truck together for the last hour.

Less is more. That’s

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they could care less about them. Serious red flag.

Birthday season is coming up and I know more toys are going to make their way back into our home. It’s inevitable. In the meantime, I’m going to really clean out their room this time, nothing gets left out. Except the Logos, of course.