Carseat or Toxic Landfill?

I feel like it's my job as a woman, wife, mother, and friend to share my nuggets of wisdom (when appropriate) with others to help them feel 'normal' or avoid unnecessary grief.

For example, many of my friends who had their first baby after I had Kennedy know the 'I don't even want her story'.  Similarly, Chad and I made it our mission to tell new parents that newborns sleep amazingly well in the hospital only to come home and forget how.  We seriously felt like some great people let us down by not telling us that our first night home from the hospital with a baby would be about 15 minutes on this side of the destination hades.

So, here's my newest wisdom. Those of you who figured this out and didn't let me in on the secret are on my Christmas list under 'Memaw's fruitcake'. That's not good, folks. 

Back to the nugget of wisdom...buying one of those 250 in 1 convertible carseats is a bad idea. First of all, those of us in Texas know that with the fairly recent law changes, kids need to be in a carseat until they go to high school. Well, maybe not all kids, but when you only have 1 person in 3 generations of family over 5 feet 8 inches tall, your kids can expect to take their booster seat on their first date. 

The convertible carseat seemed so obvious with child 3.  She was the last kid, so there would be no need to trade, upgrade, shuffle like we did with the older kids.  However, the seat is FILTHY. We don't typically let our kids eat in the car. It doesn't matter. Today I completely disassembled the seat. It was absolutely shameful. I hesitate to post these picture because CPS may be able to use it as evidence of unlivable conditions.  

Seriously, she's been using this seat for a little over 2 years. It has been spot cleaned a time or two. How does this happen?  Ugh. 

Here's the best part. Look at the ooey, gooey, sticky nastiness down in the seat. Biohazard is the word that came to mind as I began to scrape and scrub with disinfectant wipes.

Now for the last picture, I will say that I do take the seat out, vacuum underneath it and shake it out often. Seriously, about once a month the seat receives  what I naively thought was a decent 'shake down'. After performing said shakedown outside, this is what I dumped out in the floor while disassembling the seat. 

My thoughts are that a convertible carseat sounds great. Who doesn't love the idea of needing only 1 for all of the ages and stages?  However, the carseat becomes a toxic landfill before the child outgrows it.  

Unfortunately for me, I'm both a tightwad and a little OCD. The filth is gross, but the idea of getting rid of a perfectly safe carseat to buy a new, clean one just won't settle in my soul. Therefore, these tools and a lot of elbow grease had to suffice. 

I must say, the end product really wasn't too bad. 

Carseat looks pretty good, but I'm exhausted. All of those hooks and straps just pop right off. Not a single one just popped right back on though. I think I'll take on this project again in exactly 894 days!  

Those of you with babies and toddlers in your future, consider the reality of the toxicity of that convertible carseat over the course of 1-7 years. Might be ok to get one stage at a time and trash it when time to progress to next type of seat. 

My Miracle Whip

The post about our wild and crazy April ended on a note about April showers bring Miracle Whip. It's true! 

On May 1, when the girls and I got home after school, we found a young calf lying in the back yard. She was frail and I honestly thought she was dead. Thinking out loud, I asked, "How in the world did that calf get up here in the yard, and where is its mamma?" Kennedy and Taylor immediately developed their version of the story. Naturally, they assumed our old dog Hershey that's never noticed other life and our 12-13 year old crippled, one eyed (with cataracts) dog Buckwheat must have "stolen the baby from its mom and drug it to the house for us to see". Yes, it kind of reminded me of the little girl on Higgleytown Heroes who comes up with the most off the wall ways to solve problems.

So, I took a couple of pictures of the sweet baby and tried to stand her up to see if she could walk. I quickly noticed several gashes in her back near her hind quarters, and she just stumbled around. I called Daddy. He is actually the farmer. He was in Longview and told me to call my Uncle Tim. Tim came down, and he and I began to discuss the possible ways this calf with gashes wound up in the yard without a mamma cow even looking for her. He hauled her long, lanky body out to the shade tree in the pasture where all the cows come up and sniffed her. None of them acted overly interested in the baby.

She stumbled toward the pasture and fell. Later determined that's "Mom"

 After a couple of hours and no rescue by "mom", we decided to bottle feed the heifer. She did not like the bottle, but she was so weak. During all the chaos and numerous sessions of trying to figure out what in the world happened to this calf (that was not newborn), a man in the oilfield approached the house. He asked if I found a calf on my porch. I said, "Well, I found her in the yard. Did you put a calf on my porch?" He chuckled and said that while driving by they saw buzzards on the calf (literally eating her alive) and knew they would kill it. They knocked on the front door and then walked around to the back and saw all the toys and thought anyone with kids would try to ave it. He again chuckled and said, "I could tell the calf was safe from these two ferocious guard dogs but thought they would at least keep the buzzards off the calf here by the house." I'm pretty sure Kennedy and Taylor were offended that he didn't think our dogs could/would drag a calf away from its mom to put on the porch! We were relieved to know how and why the calf was out of the pasture.

 Remember that lists of "dreams" I wrote about here a couple of months ago? I saw my chance and jumped on it. Anything that we were going to bottle feed had to have a name. The girls and I went through thousands of names. I finally said her name needs something to do with May since our journey together began on May 1. Mayo quickly became Miracle Whip. We all agreed that only a miracle could explain her being alive and in our care.

 5:00AM May 2, 2013 I was trying to bottle feed the calf while my dad was puking in the pasture but was determined that I might need some help. Again, Miracle Whip was not happy about the experience. We were finally able to get some milk down her, but decided that tubing her would be the next option if she didn't learn to accept the bottle enough to keep her alive.

 5:00PM May 2, 2013 I was fighting a stronger calf who still was not at all interested in the bottle. Daddy finally tube fed her. Randomly in Texas, a cold front moved in and the lows for the night were predicted to be in the lower 30s with rain. I couldn't stand it, and decided to move the dog pen to the carport and put out blankets, etc. to keep Miracle Whip warmer and dry.

BADkid brushing Miracle Whip

 
 5:00AM May 3, 2013 Calf was stronger from the adequate supply of milk through the tube and got a little more active and resistant to the bottle.

 3:00PM May 3, 2013. Daddy took Miracle Whip to see Dr.Lori Cavitt who gave her some 'miracle' concoction of medicines. She said that she seems healthy and had probably been injured by being stepped on and then couldn't get up or keep up so mom abandoned her. Miracle Whip continued to improve.

 May 4-5, 2013 Miracle Whip had ups and downs. It was similar (though much less traumatic) as a baby in NICU. One afternoon I would think we had turned a corner, and by that night I'd be in tears thinking she was going to die. It was the craziest experience. The girls began to love on the calf and brush her, etc. She was so sweet, but every single morning she would refuse to get up, stand up, etc.  I hoped that her serious regression was too to the abnormal cold/wet weather each night.

 8:00PM May 5, 2013 Miracle Whip declined. She would not take bottle. She would not do anything cooperative. My hope was that by the morning, she would be hungry and cooperate.

 5:00AM Monday May 6, 2013,I tried to bottle feed the calf without any significant amount of milk going down. Frustrated I decide to tube feed her. She fought that too. She was healthy enough and recognized the tube so that I could no longer manhandle her alone to get the tube in correctly, open the valve, etc. I came in the house and threw all the stuff in the floor of the utility room and told Chad to just go shoot her because she was going to die anyway. I cried and cried. He made the same attempts at feeding her. He finally said, "Well, she will either live or die, but we've done all we can do." I called Daddy and made arrangements for him to come try to help tube feed the calf that evening...if she was still alive after 36 hours without significant milk.

 3:30PM Monday, May 6, 2013 I came home from school and put the leash on Miracle Whip to try to get her to walk around (per Dr.Cavitt's suggestions). The other cows were up in the front pasture. Miracle Whip immediately headed toward the other cows and tried to get through the fence to get to them. I opened the gate and let her in. The cows were curious about her, but obviously a little skittish with her bright red collar, bright red leash, and human attachments. I finally let the leash go so that she could approach the cattle. I knew that if I needed to, I could catch her with the leash so I wasn't very concerned. The mamma cow let Miracle Whip try to nurse. I watched them for a while. I finally decided that I should get Miracle Whip back. And, the fun began.

 As I tried to sneak up and grab the dangling leash, she ran. I ran and she ran some more. I tried to corner her in a section of pasture and she ran and jumped and kicked like a healthy calf. I decided to rest a while and get a better plan. I herded all the cows to a smaller section of pasture and tried to sneak up on her and grab the leash again. She saw me and jumped and ran and kicked and ran and ran and ran. When she stopped and looked at me her tongue was hanging out. That meant that she was tired and ready to give up, right? Wrong, she continued to run if I even thought about approaching her. My three kids were sitting on the trailer out of the way cheering and yelling "You almost got her!" and "She sure is fast Mom!" It was a circus. 

After admitting defeat by the "sick calf", I called Daddy and said that I didn't need him to help me feed her, but I needed him to help me catch her to get the leash. We were finally able to pen her in the corral and get the leash off of her. We turned her back out to the pasture with her goofy mom and hoped for the best. It was such a bittersweet moment. My kids are too young to leave the nest, but it must be a tiny glimpse into that experience as a parent. I was so proud that she was able to be a cow and hoped she was strong enough to survive, but a part of me really wanted her to need me and come back to let me love on her some more. Every single day for the next few weeks, I went out and looked for Miracle Whip. She was always there and always doing okay. She was easy to pick out with her red collar. I'm sure the other cows were jealous of her bling!

Miracle Whip sporting her red collar in the pasture with "Mom"

 Finally, last week Daddy, Chad and I had to pen her up in the corral again to get the collar from around her neck. She had grown enough that it was going to cause a problem in the near future. Again, it was bittersweet.

 She's been back with her mom for over a month. She is growing and being a normal cow.  Even without her red collar, she is easy to pick out. Remember her tongue hanging out because she was tired? Well, apparently she's got some kind of problem. Her tongue is always hanging out. I asked Dr.Cavitt if she was retarded. She said, "I would say neurological".  She may be "neurological" but she's My Miracle Whip!

Blake Alayne

Blake Alayne is the newest Dickerson. She was born April 12. She was the smallest of the three Dickerson girls--a whole 5lbs. 9oz. I was induced, but she was only 9 days early. I suspect that this tiny Dickerson will have a personality as large as her older sisters one day really soon.

She came into the world looking like this

Later she looked like this


(notice the "roll" of material on the newborn gown)


Then this



Now she looks like this




She's cute, huh?

I've been asked about her name several times...just like with the other two! So, here's her story. Blake is a name that I liked. I did not give her a "boy name" because Iwanted her to be a boy. She was going to be Brett if she was a boy. I like the name Blake...for a girl. Alayne is the most feminine verson of Allen (Chad's middle name) that I could come up with. I mean, with a name like Blake she needed something girly in the middle, right? And the fact that her initials are B.A.D. was kind of fun too! We generally call her Blake, but there's a little part of me that wants the Alayne to stick too. Blake Alayne. Perfect.

She is perfect. Physically, she appears to be perfect, but more importantly she is perfect for our family. God knew and provided this special piece at just the right time. I am very thankful that she sleeps all night, but honestly sometimes I get up and just stare at her while she sleeps. I look forward to rocking her to sleep, although I know I should put her to bed "drowsy but awake" according to "the experts". Who are those experts? I bet they never rocked a perfect baby girl named Blake Alayne to sleep!