Karissa's New Look (for a while)

Before a parent becomes a parent, they most likely are very judgemental spectators of other parents, who ...
*can't imagine why someone just can't keep their kid quiet in a restaurant.
*wonder what's so hard about making a kid eat vegetables.
*would never let a kid talk back to them.
... etc.

At some point, Kathy and I have probably made the same observations. It happens. It's part of being young and full of all the answers.

Sometimes the judgementalism doesn't stop, even after people become parents.

'Why do parents let their kids' head get all out of shape to the point where they have to wear one of those helmets?'

Well, now, even if we don't have all the solutions, we damn sure know the answers to the questions.
*Your version and our version of quiet aren't nearly the same. He seems pretty darned quiet and well behaved to us.
*Once a kid gets the taste of candy and mac-n-cheese, then spinach and green beans become a bigger challenge. It was for me and every kid I ever knew, every kid I know now, and mine too.
*Yes, my kid may talk back now where you can here it, but there are consequences paid when you're not around.
*Babies, true infant babies, aren't as easily molded and cooperative as the books and TV specials make it out to seem. As we've learned, breast feeding is far from automatic. Neither is tummy sleeping.

Karissa was essentially born in to a family of hacking, sniffling and sneezing. On September 22, 2010, the Fletcher house was going through a box of Kleenex about every other day. She quickly acquired every sniffle we had to offer. I can still picture her as a fresh-out-of-the-chute infant gurgling phlegm and snorting snot while trying to feed. For naps and sleep, if put on her tummy, she could barely breathe well enough to cry her heart out. The sound of wailing and gurgling was almost unbearable. She was not going to be a tummy sleeper. So on her back she went. It didn't take long for her to develop a sort of pattern of sleeping with her head tilted to the right.

Over time, with her skull still soft and easily maleable, it slowly over time began showing subtle signs of becoming misshapen. If you're looking at her face-forward there's really no way to tell. She's always taken a great picure. But, if she were sitting up, like in a Bumbo seat or her Jumperoo, and you were to take an over-head look, a bird's-eye view, you could see how the back-right of her head was more flat. And since for every action there is a reaction, her front-left is beginning a slight jut forward. It is ever so subtle. But if you look the right way it's clearly obvious. So, we recently took her to Cranial Technologies and got her fitted for a a Doc Band, more commonly referred to and seen as a helmet.

The band/helmet was ready today and she finally has it on. It's a different look, but because she has it so young (just shy of 7 months) she should only have to wear it a shorter amount of time. The longer we waited, the firmer her skull would become and the longer it would be to correct. So, as it is, this should be about a three month project. She's scheduled to be done with it by July if all goes well.

In the end, this is more cosmetic than a matter of necessity. If she did not have the helmet it would not affect the growth of her brain, her capacity to learn or thing, etc. She'd just have a funky looking head when she got older - which would mostly be invisible and covered by hair. But, if she got her hair wet or wanted to put her hair up in a ponytail, it the misshapen back of her head would be obvious. It's something that's worth correcting and we wanted to jump on the opportunity as young as possible. So, here we are. Once things correct and she gets the helmet off, she can go back to laying on her back, head turned to the right - just like the photo above; arms out, legs out, as if she were dropped from the ceiling and went splat! on the matress.

It's more jarring for other people to see who don't know what it is than it is for her or us. It's no more a sign of faulty parenting than is Kole still falling short of our potty training goals at the present. Sometimes kids just do whatever they're going to do, and it's not out of parental defiance. This is a cosmetic fix. She'll thank us for it later, once she old enough to notice someone with an unfixed flattened head. It's about three months. She'll never remember any of this. It's the right thing to do.

And Then .. He Found His Groove

So, that last post, posted just about 24 hours ago, would make it seem as if our oldest child has no showmanship. No moxie. No cajones.

Today, Kathy and I made a trek to Stephenville for a cousin of Kathy's, Stephen, getting married to Taylor - both are students at Tarleton State U. in Stephenville. Small wedding at a church that looks like it wouldn't last 5 seconds if an F1 tornado were within 100 yards of it. The reception was at a nearby VFW hall. Very old school for a couple 20 and 21 years of age, very cool, very quaint and wonderful. At the reception, the college kids were ready to get their groove on ... and Kole was ready to go step for step with them


Yesterday he was in full catatonic freeze at his school play. Today, he had the run of the dance floor. Yesterday it seemed as if a room full of strangers was the last place he wanted to be. Tonight, without spotlights and a sea of hungry eyes waiting for a crumb to nibble on, he gleefully danced without fear or shame and he was scanning the room to make sure everyone was at full attention of his shenanigans.

The cool thing is, for us, it's not like he came out of a shell. Tonight he was being Kole. Last night was the apparition. He was also a gentleman during the service, mostly quiet, and definitely the star toddler of the night. One in the row in front of us ended up underneath the chairs. The others were ring-bearers and flower girls caught in a spot they did not want to be in. After the bridesmaids and groomsmen made their march, a distinctive cry and howl was coming from the fourier. When the doors flew open a teenaged usher with a beaten-down look on his face was pulling a RadioFlyer wagon painted entirely white, with lace and flowers and billowy things all around it. In the wagon were a toddler-aged flower girl and ring bearer ... and they wanted NOTHING to do with the scene they found themselves in. The girl was crying hysterically and trying to crawl out, while her mother walked along side the wagon holding her in. The little boy seemed fairly at ease with the ride, but was obviously unhappy that he was seated next to Princess Panic Attack. He sat still, but his face looked upwards in a howling cry. The whole scene dripped of a great idea on paper during a bachelorette pedicure session, probably executed perfectly in rehearsal, then became an abysmal failure upon gameday execution - to the absolute delight of all the other spectators in the crowd.

So by those standards, Kole was great just being restless in his seat a few times, and pointing out - aloud - when the preacher would cough or clear his throat. "Coughing!" his little voice would pierce the silence of the church afterwards. Yes, he's coughing, now whisper, gosh dangit! Sweet Karissa, just like the night before at Kole's school performance, sat like an angel in her Grandma's lap, looking at the world and snacking on her own little hands and Grandma's necklace.

Then came the reception. Then the cake. Full of sugar, Kole took the dancefloor and the rest is history. I think we found his calling.

The Performance

Friday was Family Day for TLC, Kole's Mother's Day Out school at The Woods Methodist Church near our home. Not only is it where he goes every Tuesday and Thursday for 5 hours, but Aunt Kelley teaches in the next classroom over, so it's nice having family nearby. Kole every so often will come home singing a song we didn't teach him, or identify something or say a sentence that we know didn't come from us. He's 2 and his vocabulary is still very raw, so everything he's learning isn't entirely worn on his sleeves, but we can tell he's getting a lot out of it.

But Friday was sort of an end-of-year culmination, where each class gives a presentation of some kind. Kole is in the Frogs class of mostly 2-year-olds not potty trained. Aunt Kelley teaches Turtles in the next room over, 6-months-old to just over 1. Classes go up to pre-K, identified as Monkey and Giraffe classes, etc.

So Friday night was the big show. We were joined by Grandma (Kathy's mom) as well as Pa Pa and Grams (Keith's dad and step-mom). Plus, Uncle Kelly and cousin Riley, who were there to aid and assist the program that Kelley helped lead. The big year-end slideshow music video was dedicated to her, a sort of collective recognition from the teaching staff.

The video of Kole's performance pretty much speaks for itself. It was the youngest class to do an act, and was preceded by the director informing the gathering of 200+ parents, relatives and family friends that these are the youngest and to please understand and be supportive if one or more begins to cry or wander off stage.

And in they strolled, marching along while all holding a rope to all stay together, Kole sticking out in the back since he's a good inch taller than everyone in his class. Some classes would eventually do skits dressed in an Army/soldier theme, or 50's sock-hop themed, but the Frogs came just wearing matching white shirts with their backpacks on their backs. On Kole's last day of school, this past Thursday, we were informed that Kole was singing loudly in rehearsal, and was not hitting the girl to his left in the head, which he had done on Tuesday. I actually had medium-high hopes that he may not freeze up completely and at least sing a stanza or two. But, what we got from him is what we got from every single kid on stage - a gaggle of bewildered toddler spectators, watching as their teachers led them in singing just in front of them. Some moved their hands with the accompanying sign language that goes with "Jesus Loves Me", it got a bit of a head-bob from Kole, but nobody sang a peep in front of the throng of giggly parents.

I was easily the biggest video nerd in the room, complete with Sony minicam and tripod. Everyone else just whipped out their Flip video or iPhones and recorded away. In hindsight, I'm glad I had the tripod because otherwise the video would be a jiggly mess, I was laughing so hard I could not have held the camera straight, especially from a distance. He was just frozen up there, but nowhere near tears or panic. For a little ham bone who so frequently demands attention while engaged in various forms of tomfoolery in familiar company, he was gloriously out of his element on a stage with an audience, making it a very entertaining moment for the family who came to watch it in person.

Notice Anything?

Karissa's first tooth came some weeks ago, a little nub you had to feel with your finger. Then came the second another couple of weeks ago. Now, we finally have some proof of some coming chompers and it makes a beautiful smile just a little more adorable.

Spring Catch Up - No Foolin

I know it's been a while since we've posted anything. March is my (Keith's) busiest time of the year, and at one stretch I was on the road 12 out of 18 straight days, covering Big 12 championships of swimming & diving (UT/Austin), wrestling (Iowa State), basketball (Kansas City) and gymnastics (U. of Missouri/Columbia). Crazy, crazy time - and Kathy spent much of that alone in the house with the two little ones. A lot has happened, so it's time to catch up - no April Fools.

KARISSA UPDATE
Karissa turned 6 months old a week or so ago. She was 26-and-1/4 inches long (75%) and 15 pounds, 13 ounces (50%), so she's very normal and maybe a tad on the long side.
On March 17th, we finally felt her first tooth protruding through her bottom gum. Ever since then we've had the headaches that follow that - the profuse drooling, the teething pain and crying, etc. Then just a few days ago, we actually felt her second tooth coming in. She is eating solids now (supplementally she's having oatmeal cereal) and in perfect health. She turns herself over, both ways, and now sits up for a few ticks on her own.

One thing that has come along is that the shape of her head has not developed just so. If you look at her face-on you wouldn't notice a thing. At different angles, however, you'll notice one side flatter than another. Karissa never took to laying on her belly. She was essentially born with congestion. The day we brought her home she had a snorting head full of snot, and laying on her belly only made her gurgle and gag and that was not an option for much longer. She spent so much time on her back because of that she never really took to tummy time. And when I say she never took to it - she would spend 10 seconds on her belly and roar her indifference. The result is some slightly misshapen parts of her head. Now the thing is, she's still very young and at the point where it's the easiest to treat. She'll wear a band (you've seen the kids and probably called it a 'helmet', like we do, but they call it a 'band') for about 2-3 months. The older kids get, and the more their skull hardens, it takes considerably longer. So, we've made a quick decision to address this while she is young and it's easiest to manage. She'll thank us later. It's chiefly cosmetic, to be honest. There's nothing wrong with her head and it has nothing to do with the development of the brain. Basically, when she's older, if she wanted to put her hair up in a ponytail, or if her hair was short and she got out of the pool, it would be noticeable. Not really otherwise. So, we'll go ahead and do that now and just help her head look as perfect as her face.

While visiting the Cranial Technologies in Dallas, the technician held Karissa and examined her, holding her on her lap with Karissa's back to her. Karissa was darting her head and eyes over her shoulder left and right, staring the tech up and down. The tech seemed amazed at how alert she was, talking about how uncommon it was for a 6-month-old to be THAT alert and curious. We've thought the same thing for some time, but found it interesting that someone who sees different babies all day every day to mention the same unsolicited. Karissa notices and motions and laughs at our dog Maggie. She's even taken to a Baby Einstein video "Neighborhood Animals".

Right now Karissa's most outgoing personality trait is her nighttime wake-up call. When she's awake you won't hear crying necessarily. You'll hear thumps. Like someone is banging on the front door thumps. What she does is lift her feet in front of her face while laying down, then slam her feet down. The resulting thwump! can be heard at the other end of the house. And yes, it will be heard over a monitor in the middle of the night. So, a nickname of "Thumper" or something similar hasn't officially taken place, but it may not be long.

KOLE UPDATE
Not much to update on the potty training front. He has and will produce some poop on the potty, but it has no regularity (in reference to his potty appearances, not his BMs). He is experimenting with big-boy underwear. The idea, according to the books and magazine articles, is that when he wets or poops in them, he'll get a different and much more comfortable experience than with a diaper. Well ... maybe in theory. In reality, Kole can go just as long in a peed-on and pooped-in underwear as he can in a diaper. No difference and no deterrence.

Kole knows his colors and most of the alphabet on site. He cheerfully sits in his car seat now pointing out all the cars ... "orange car! Red truck! White car!" etc. He's also starting to express himself in more complete sentences and thoughts, not just one- or two-word commands. "Mommy - cahab juice peese!" (can I have juice please); "uh guh out-SIIIDE, uh wuh red firetruck!". And so on. He uses bigger more complex words. He'll actually be doing something like drawing with a Crayola and say "learn at school", referring to his mother's-day-out school he still goes to twice a week.

Speaking of school, we finally got a report this week that he was disciplined for his behavior. It seems that there's some box of some kind in the classroom that he has taken a shine to climbing on top of. He was told more than once not to get on the box, and he finally had to do a Timeout after doing it again. Each day he gets a little report card mentioning what happened that day and it has three things for Behavior that could potentially be circled: Great, Good or Acted Out. On the day of the Timeout he actually got a Good behavior, but he has got a Acted Out once before. It seems that when other kids come to play with him or maybe attempt to share a toy, or even take it from him, his reaction is to push or shove. He didn't learn it here, but it appears to be an easy thing to pick up from any school activity or play date with other little friends he sees with Kathy's friends or even at church. One time a couple of months ago I took him to the indoor playground at a nearby Chick-Fil-A and watched a kid shove Kole, just to get him out of the way so he could slide down a slide. I had words with the kid afterwards. But, I guess Kole has been exposed to shoving and now he partakes of the act from time to time.

He rides his tricycle and now propels himself with the pedals, after several months of Fred Flintstone footwork. He's active, he's happy, he's healthy, and for the most part he's a very, very good boy and the joy of our lives.

Doggone Dogs

Today we mourn the passing of a dear family friend - Kole's Pa Pa (Keith's dad) and Grams had to put down their long time loyal pal, Spud. It's always tough seeing an old friend go, especially one who never gets angry and is always overjoyed to see us.

Maggie, our dog, is a docile little thing that Kole can easily upset by petting her too hard (slapping her, practically) or tugging on her ears or tail. With Spud, Kole could always do as he pleased - whacking/petting him as hard as he wanted. Kole could ride Spud for a bit.

It's a tough loss, as we've had a recent spell of unfortunate dog incidents. Our little Hurricane Katrina evacuee, Maggie, is getting old and is currently deaf. She's also getting very careless about getting - and staying - out of the house. It used to not be a big deal if we went to check mail, or came home with groceries, and left a door open for Maggie to come out with us, sniff around squat a few dozen times. If we ever accidentally came in and closed the door on Maggie, leaving her outside or in the garage, she'd immediately bark up a storm at the door and demand to get back in.

Nowadays ... not so much.

This past week, for the second time in about two months, we had a neighbor call us asking "is your dog accounted for?" - and she wasn't. It sucks that we have a 2-and-1/2 year old and a nearly-5-month old distracting us, but it's easy to lose track of Maggie, especially since she's so darn lazy and just lays around and sleeps or rests or relaxes around the clock. Everyone thinks they have a lazy dog, but Maggie is the Queen Princess of never making a peep all day and literally laying in one spot ALL DAY, or until Kole bugs the crap out of her and she has to get away.

Last week, Kathy was out on other dinner plans, leaving me at home with the little ones. I was eating with Kole at the dining room table and Karissa was in her Jumperoo when the call came. Our neighbor had called Kathy's cell - and Kathy texted me "is Maggie in the house?" Right as I realize she's not, the neighbor calls me and I beg her to go out and help look for her. I quickly did the math and realized that she had to have been out for at least 40 minutes, since Kathy last left. What was worse - this was one of those nights when a huge cold front was expected to blow through around 10:00 at night. We NEEDED to get that dog in the house, and time was of the essence. The last time Maggie was out, Kathy got out in her car to do a neighborhood search while I kept the little ones. Luckily, it was a short search.

Maggie benefits from Kole's mockery of parenthood

But now ... I'm solo, and my car only has a car seat for Kole. Kathy has the 2-car-seat car. WHAT THE? So what did I do? What any responsible parent of a dog would do ... or what Britney Spears would do. In socks, sweats and a t-shirt, I threw Kole into the front seat and held Karissa in my lap. This was not the time to spend 5 minutes figuring out what to do with everyone. And above all, I knew that I would never leave our neighborhood streets and never get the car much over 5 mph. I mean, I was trying to scan the area for a dog. With this 3-second justification, Kole made his debut riding shotgun and Karissa rode on my left knee as I held her then steered with the right. I had the window cracked open, but the storm was on it's way and the wind was picking up. Temp was about 45 degrees outside. Not frigid, but not warm. I took an entire trip around our block when I ran into the husband of our neighbor that called, he was out being walked by his Great Dane, Titan, joining in the search. Since I was going so slow, one trip around the block took nearly 5 minutes. Finally, about to take my second trip around, this little white dog darts across my path.

"MAGGIE!!" I scream out the window, just 20 feet from her. She keeps walking, and actually steps it up a notch. Shit - she's deaf, and now she doesn't know it's me and is scared. So again I ask the question - What am I supposed to do? I had few options at the time. I was going to hand Karissa over to Kole, but that seemed like a bad idea since I wasn't sure how long of a chase I would be in for. So, I threw open the door, tucked Karissa under my left arm like a football and started running for Maggie. Thank God Karissa is past 4 months and can now hold her head up. I looked down for a second and noticed her head bobbing, but she wasn't unhappy. The wind was cold and there I was in sweats and socks and a t-shirt running across the street and into someone's front yard. Maggie noticed me running after her and it's like she just gave up, as if she was sure to die. She just hit the deck and put her paws up. I grabbed her and picked her up, and it's like she picked up my scent and knew who I was and immediately started wheezing in relief. Where was a camera when I needed one - my Father of the Year nomination, hobbling through a stranger's yard in socks and a t-shirt when it's 45-degrees in the dark of night with an infant tucked under one arm and a dog under the other. I got back to the car and, thankfully, Kole hadn't moved an inch and seemed fascinated by his view of the show. I threw Maggie on his lap and he squealed with excitement. I put Karissa back on my lap, as she again seemed completely unaffected by anything. We got home, I shut the garage door, we all went in - Maggie darting immediately for her water bowl - and I warmed up Kole and Karissa before calling Kathy with the good news.

Some times a day goes by and it frustrates me if something memorable doesn't happen. Something that I'll remember and tell the kids about later in life, or that they may remember. And then there's events like that - out of nowhere - that I'll never, ever, even possibly forget.

Snow Day 2011

Karissa's Solids & Jumperoo

Upon turning 4 months, we have ramped up Karissa to her first solid food - rice cereal - and have the video of her first venture with it. Obviously, she sees her mother's hand come her way and she immediately goes into nipple-receiving mode and is not quite sure what to make of the object protruding her mouth with a glob of goo is all about.
Afterwards in the video is a shot of her in her Jumperoo - the same little contraption that Kole once played in and has handed-down. It's perfect at this age to get her off her back and in an upright position. As you can see, she's extremely alert and is already manipulating toys and using her legs to support and gyrate herself.
It's scary how one morning last week Kathy walked into the kitchen with her one morning, and it's like Karissa had her head up while being held, locked eyes with me from way across the room as Kathy walked closer, and the closer the got the faster she recognized me and smiled. It was one of those moments like ... weren't you just a helpless little newborn last week? How did you grow up this fast??
Scary. But wonderful at the same time.

Karissa's 4 Month Checkup

Karissa has passed the 4 month mark and is now 14 pounds, 3 ounces - up about a pound from a month ago; and 25 inches - up about an inch from last month. She is in the 90th percentile for length, meaning that only 10% of babies in America are longer. She had two more shots today - both given in her thigh, and she cried and quickly developed a hard bump where the needle was. Poor thing. She was grumpy and sad most of the day, but finally just went to sleep.
Her head circumference is 40.5 centimeters, which puts her in the 30th percentile. She still has a fairly narrow head, a result of her laying flat on her back too much. She just does not like laying on her tummy too much. It's not great, but it's not really an issue. The doctor didn't seem alarmed, nor was Jason - Keith's cousin who is a pediatrician - who saw Karissa over Christmas. With a full head of hair, it's hard to tell anyone's true head shape, and lots of people have heads that are just more narrow or pointed than others. Karissa may not have a clinically perfect round head, but with a full head of hair nobody would ever know. She's healthy and happy, and for that we are very grateful.

The Budding Big Brother

The photo at the right was not staged. I did not dupe Kole into doing everything he's doing just for a photo op. The other day while just he and I were in the house, he fetched Karissa's pink bear. I doubt Karissa knows that this bears is hers, but Kole is now proficient in identifying bears on TV or in books, and when he's in her room to get his diaper changed or something he'll point and yell for the bear. So, he's frequently seen with the pink bear.

Back to the other day, I'm in the kitchen making him dinner or something, and behind my back I hear him saying "ah hun-GEE ... ah hun-GEE". We now now that "ah" is his versatile noun that can me "I", "you" or anyone else in the room. The other word I recognized as his for hungry. I then informed him that I was going as fast as I can but corn dogs need time. I then heard a dining room chair scoot, and thought he might have sat up himself, which must mean he's really hungry. Finally I looked over and see what's in the photo. He had placed the bear in a chair, grabbed a little sandwich baggie of Ruffles from the counter top, leftover from his lunch at mothers-day-out school that day, and was attempting to feed the bear chips.

I had to stop and take about 10 seconds to soak it all in. He had carefully put the bear in its chair at the table, presumed it was hungry, and was now feeding it. Or, pretending to feed it, as those modules of his brain are becoming increasingly active. Maybe in his own mind the bear was taking a bite, but after holding the chip to its mouth for a few seconds Kole would ultimately devour the chip. It was win-win for stuffed bear and human boy alike. It was a neat moment, and I snapped this picture without him knowing, proud that I captured the innocence and spontaneity of the moment.

In other pictures on this blog we've shown Mr. Froggie, the stuffed frog who wears jeans and a shirt. Kole will frequently pull the back of the frog's pants back saying "poo-poo ... poo-poo ... ah diaper". It's pretty cute, checking to see if Mr. Froggie has crapped his britches and in need of a change.

We are seeing more and more signs from Kole that he is prepared to be a helpful brother. He's sure as heck a helpful son. He knows what a phone is, so if you sit down to feed Karissa and the phone rings, he's a quick and reliable retrieving service. He actually calls the TV remote control is a phone - they are the same size and both have numbers all over them. That's okay, if we need the remote just ask for the phone. If he brings the real phone just point to the remote and say "no - the other phone". He gets it eventually. He knows what a bib is and the drawer where they're kept, and is great for fetching one if you've already sat down with Karissa.

Such a great helper. Such a growing boy getting wiser by the day.

Goodbye, 2010

It is time to say goodbye to 2010 and it will go down as a very memorable year. It began with the news of a baby on the way, and nine months later our bundle of sugar and spice and everything nice brought balance back to our little family. She was healthy and perfect, but a quick scare that took us to Cook Chidren's Hospital in Fort Worth, for what amounted to a false alarm, quickly brought home the reality of how difficult it can be to bring a healthy baby into the world, and how blessed someone is to have a complication-free birthing event. We never ventured far enough into the halls of the hospital to see too many of the children with life-threatening illnesses or conditions, but I'll never forget some of the faces I saw from parents - in the elevators, down the halls or in the cafeteria. They were weary faces that tried to be neighborly and friendly, but often poorly hid dispair or frustration. I'll never forget those faces.

2010 was a year for my beloved Texas Rangers to reach the World Series, and for the passing of dear family friend Peggy Cavanaugh. A high, a low, back and forth. That's life. But, history books will show 2010 as a year of high unemployment and a country spinning wheels in economic recession muck. A recession affects us all one way or another, but the big monster's fangs failed to take a major bite out of this family, my job was safe and successful, and for that I am again grateful.

I think it's common for people to look towards a new year with high hopes and renewed vigor and energy of bigger and better things. In doing so, the past year sometimes unfairly gets a bad rap. Optimism and wishful daydreaming is easy. Proper bookkeeping of blessings and thanks over the course of 12 months is difficult, and I think too many people give up trying. Next year will be better than this year is an ideology that has been marketed by corporate America for eons, and there are countless people willing to stand in line to hear the sermon, whomever is preaching it.

Where we do hope for 2011 to bring happiness and successes beyond our wildest imagination, life tells us that we should also be prepared to have our hearts broken along the way. That will take care of itself. Today, we simply look back one last time and give thanks and a fond hug goodbye to 2010, for better or worse.

A Little Love For Karissa

Some days Karissa just seems so small and innocent and itty-bitty and unchanged one iota since she was delivered just over three months ago.

Then a week like this week happens, when not only have we hopelessly upgraded from Size 1 to Size 2 diapers. I've had to adjust her car seat where the belts come up higher over her shoulders. Then she sits up in her Bumbo seat for long periods of time, not only holding her head up for extended periods of time, but actually swivelling her head from side to side and showing curiosity of her surroundings. Holding a stare at the TV, eyeing things up and down. Then when a voice speaks she turns back to it to inspect it. She has a distinctive laugh now - a bit of a lurching, hoarse smoker's-voice guffaw. Add a big smile from ear to ear with not a trace of a tooth in that mouth and it's something to behold.

She is still sleeping well through the night - still unswaddled and with nothing but her jammies and a blanket thrown over her so she can sprawl her legs and arms and take up as much space on that matress as possible. She gets a lot of brotherly love, but I've noticed how much attention Kole gets on this blog as opposed to Karissa. He is older and is evolving a more defined personality, but I thought my little girl needed some attention showered on her.

Christmas 2010

"Silent Night" has been sung, Elf seen at least three times at length, the gifts opened, the clean up mostly cleaned up, and it's about time to pack away the photos and memories of Christmas 2010 for the Fletcher clan. It's the first for Karissa and the third for Kole - and it's neat to think that there may have been something from this year that he'll remember forever.

Thursday night we had my mom and crew over - Grammy and Grandpa Gedy, my mom's sister Doris, Gedy's kids Ben and Shanna and her beau Paul; and of course the Grunewalds, my sister Kelley and hubby Kelly and daughters Riley and Reagan. Good house full and we had Feliz Navidad, a Mexican-themed Christmas with homemade enchiladas, tamales, tortilla soup, homemade charra beans, Spanish rice, muchos margaritas and Dos Equis, and a great time had by all. Great to see Gedy after his excitement a couple of weeks ago (a heart attack!). We exchanged gifts and played Balderdash and laughed at everyone's extremely strong BS abilities. Kole was so worn silly by the end of the night that he was practically begging to go to bed. Normally if you ask him if he's sleepy, or inform him that it's time for bed, he'll respond by finding a burst of energy and running a couple of laps around the house; maybe doing an Olympic pommel horse routine on the coffee table. On this night, after being obviously punch-drunk and crying over something insignificant, Kathy took him in and said "Are you ready for bed?", to which he responded with wide eyes: "Bed! Bed! Bed!" Poor guy.

Friday was Christmas Eve and again our house was the home base, this time for Kathy's family - her brother Duane, sister Dawnell and her husband John, and mother Joan. We ordered pizza in, exchanged gifts and again played Balderdash. Kole got one of his marquee Christmas gifts from Grandma on this night. Hard to rank one gift over another, but this one definitely takes up some real estate in the house, requiring about a total of 50 feet to completely enjoy. It's a "roller coaster" which is about four connected plastic ramp-looking things, none of which are more than a foot off the ground, but have just enough of an up-and-down to make a cool ride, then right now it empties into our kitchen where his ride extends all the way into our oven. The crew was gone before 10:30, so I was able to at least begin my Christmas Eve tradition of watching It's a Wonderful Life. I wasn't able to get all the way through, but I at least kept the streak in tact. It's at least 20-plus years.

With the kids so young, we didn't go through the entire Santa routine. We'll probably be due to begin next year, but for now we passed up the ritual of setting out cookies, etc. On Christmas morning the kids allowed us to blissfully sleep in. I don't think we rolled out of bed until at least 8:30. For Kole it looked and smelled like any other morning, so we got some breakfast in him and Karissa before we attacked the tree and did the gifts. Among the items Kole got were the one toy item that he will have passed down from his old man. I actually still have my old wooden blocks I used to play with - building things up, then taking some sort of truck or car to ram through them and destroy the building. He now has the blocks, but I don't think he knows it still. He knows the word "presents" and gets the gist of unwrapping any box he's pointed towards. He had a great haul, as did Karissa, who mostly got clothes she sorely needs. She's growing too quick. It's hard to be the one to see her every day and notice how quickly she grows. But, one day I wake up and we've switched from size 1 to size 2 diapers, and I'm readjusting the belts on her car seat to run higher over her shoulders. Over the past week Karissa has easily been more photographed than Lindsay Lohan out on a clubbing bender. She smiles and coos and is irresistible to love on. She's been kissed more over the last week than a new bride at a Catholic wedding reception.

I upgraded Kathy and got her in the modern age of technology with an Amazon Kindle reading pad and her Samsung flip-phone with a rotary dial in it is being upgraded to a Blackberry Torch. Kathy upgraded my wardrobe, which has been needed for a long time, as I'm a terrible shopper, which makes me a lousy dresser.

We ate and drank like we were on vacation and my debit card has actual bloody lacerations on it from being swiped so much. But, we survived. It was a great Christmas with quality time spent with all of our family - even a surprised visit from my cousin Jason, in from Africa where he's a pediatrician at a women and children's hospital in the country of Mali. Good times around lots of good family, and it's another Christmas that will go down with very, very fond memories.

Guy's Guide to a Vasectomy

(Publisher's Note: the following post contains graphic detail of the vasectomy procedure, graphic language, and may not be suitable reading material for everyone. Continue forward at your own risk.)

This blog is generally intended to be about our kids and, maybe on a broader scale, the twists and turns of parenthood in general. I’ve never wanted this to be so much about us or me. But there are exceptions, and I think the following tale touches on family planning and what many parents must face at one point or another.
Thursday I got a vasectomy, and I think it’s worth a blog entry since I found nothing of my suiting around the web that properly prepared me for what I went through. I’ll try to keep the language clean and clinical and hope that this may serve as some sort of helpful guide for someone.

Taking one for the team
During our pregnancy with Karissa we knew that two was enough, especially with Kathy 37 and me about to turn 40. Kathy’s options of birth control are limited, for various reasons. The condom and I have never got along. After the birth it was time for someone other than Kathy to take one for the team. A urologist I had been to before, Dr. Aaron Amos of Mansifield, was first visited with a consultation, essentially to confirm in eye to eye with the doctor that – yes – I know this means being sterile and my wife agrees to it, too. The day of the procedure Kathy actually had the option to sign a “Spousal consent” document, which she did.
I started an antibiotic (Levaquin) the day before. The doctor said no grooming was required on my part, that it would be done in prep of the procedure. When I was called in, I was told by a nurse (?? PA? some assistant of the doctor; too many titles for too many people in a doctor’s office these days – an African-American woman about my age) to disrobe completely from the waist down, but that I could keep my socks on. I could then sit on the chair and drape a sheet over my lap. When I say “chair” I mean like a regular examining table/bed that every doctor’s office has, but cut in half – a little slab to sit on, then an adjustable back. My legs dangled off the edge at the knees. I sat on surgical blankets, gauze, whatever the heck that stuff is, wearing only socks and a t-shirt. I had to be quite a sight. I had my iPhone with me and ear buds. I was told to bring a book, headphones, even a portable DVD player if I wanted to. This was a local anesthetic procedure where I’d be wide awake, not unlike many dental or dermatological procedures. I chose my phone, loaded up with tunes, and a good set of ear buds that drown out all airplane noises on a flight. The woman returned and told me to lean back.

Clinical basics of a Vasectomy
A vasectomy is the snipping and partial removal of the vas deferens, a small vein-like tube which carries sperm from the testicles to its mixing station with other seminal fluids. Sperm seemingly has a short path to travel from the testicles to the penis, but in fact sperm actually travels through the vas deferens back into the body, behind and over the bladder, where it then joins with the prostate gland just above the penis. This is where ejaculate fluids are produced and stored – only about 5% of which is sperm. I have no idea what comprises the other 95%, but after a vasectomy it becomes 100% of an ejaculate. There is obviously very little that changes, outside of its potency around a pregnant woman. We are told that there will be no noticeable distinction between a former ejaculation and future one – in color, consistency and volume. For what that’s worth. They thought enough of those details to add it to the FAQs. We are also told that it will not affect any sensation that brings on an ejaculation. That’s still to be seen and will not be blogged about. Anyways, right near the testicle, the vas deferens is snipped at two points, removing about a 1/8-inch segment of it. The ends are then burnt shut. In a vasectomy reversal the two burnt ends are simply reattached.

The Prep
The first thing the nurse did was attach a piece of tape to one side of my thigh, brought it across my waist, pulled my penis upward towards my belly, taped it down then attached the tape on my other thigh. At this point, modesty and embarrassment were out the window. She made no eye contact or attempted any other chit-chat beyond what was necessary (“this might be cold”, etc.) She then took an object that I did not see and began what felt like brushing of my scrotum. Soft, gentle strokes with an object that did not feel sharp or metallic, but was obviously shaving the area. This took a couple of minutes and she was thorough. Next came another blanket that was put over my nether regions, but for a large hollow square in the middle. My taped penis remained under this sheet and only my scrotum was exposed through the sheet. Another wonderful sight this had to have been. She then scrubbed my scrotum with iodine, then wiped up and deemed me ready to be cut. Instruments were laid out on a tray with sterile sheets.
So if an aerial photo was taken all that would be seen is me looking quite normal from the torso upwards, then a white sterile sheet with nothing but a set of bald testicles protruding from it, then my black socks. Wonderful.

The Procedure
Dr. Amos arrived with cordial small talk as he scrubbed his hands and put on sterile gloves, verbally walking through the procedure as he had done before. First up was to find the vas deferens. This is done manually, and it might be the most painful part of the entire process. It was not an eventful opening act. He gashed his fingers into my scrotum and dug and pulled. He eventually found it and gave it a few tugs. On a pain scale of 1-10 I eventually told the doctor that I probably don’t know what Level 10 pain is and hope I never do, but this was a solid 9. This was the pain associated with when a man is racked in the testicles, but I’d call the pain at least twice as intense, it was not restrained to just my testicles but as far back as to my spine, and lasted nearly 60 seconds. I don't know that I can properly relay the the origin of the pain. Just imagine your testicles have roots, like a plant, and the roots go deep into your body and tie around your spine. Now imagine pulling your nuts and jerking on those roots. The pain comes not from your testicular sack, but from the roots and the innards where the pulling is taking place. Maybe the angriness of the metal playing through my ear buds wasn’t helping, so I made a quick mental note to go with happier, cheesier music when it was the other testicle’s turn. I writhed in agony, but kept my lower torso still and was commended afterwards. I never knew how I’d show pain in such a situation, but apparently it’s by intensely rubbing my head and forehead. I grunted loudly once or twice, and finally on a particularly sharp prod – approaching 9.9 on that pain scale – I did spontaneously produce a profanity. Not only was it the f-word, but with “er” on the end, making it a sort of proper noun that could be perceived as being directed at the doctor personally. I apologized when things cooled down and luckily he was in good humor about it. I weakly tried to explain that profanity is an actual dialect of live television production that is used by dainty little girls and Godly men and everyone in between. He understood and said that eventually he would have to go through that process again to find the vas deferens on my right side, and I was free to say what I needed to say. So, giving my potty mouth a green light was somewhat of a truce.
So, once 9.9-pain had been reached, he grabbed the needle and stuck me in the scrotum and deadened the area. That wasn’t so bad. From then on, I felt nothing on the exterior of my procedure. Never felt cuts, tugging, all of that. But so much pain was internal, and seemingly from the roots of my testicles. There was no anesthetic that could reach that pain, and that’s the pain that sticks out in my mind.
I spent most of the time texting Kathy out in the lobby, keeping my hands and mind busy as the tunes played. Eventually, smoke was seen and the smell of burnt skin (very much like singed hair) filled the room. That was jarring. But, all I felt – again – was the slight, lingering sensation of being racked in my testicles. Soon enough it was time to do the right testicle, the whole procedure all over. First with the prodding and finding of the vas, and a 9 on the pain scale was quickly reached. The Go-Gos “Turn to You” was not cheery enough and I let three f-bombs fly, along with an s-word. Things finally cooled down when he found the vas, pulled some slack, and made one last stick to deaden the area. I kept texting with Kathy and eventually was helping with her crossword puzzle clues (Milton Bearle’s title? 5 letters? “Uncle!”). While I had the phone hovering above me I also snuck a couple of pictures. More smoke and stench of burnt flesh filled the room. Then it was over. Only one incision was needed, just below the base of my penis. The paperwork warns that two incisions may be needed. He said it was about the size of a pencil eraser. A simple Band-Aid was placed on it. I felt it and realized there was no hair around to pull once it was ready to come off, so that was a relief. Once I thought the pain was over, the tape that was holding my penis up was removed from my thighs. One last little piece of joy.

Post-Procedure
Post-procedure instructions came while I was dressing – and these were the same instructions I was told on the initial consult: no sexual activity for 7-10 days (more specifically – “no ejaculating”); do not get the affected area wet (I’m allowed to shower, but with my back to the water); no baths or hot tubs, no submersion of the testicles. I was given Hydrocodone and told to put a cold compress on my testicles every two hours. A bag of frozen peas works fine, I was told. Into the next day, I can attest that the cold on my swollen sack actually feels really good.
For the rest of the night after the procedure, into today, it still feels like the lingering discomfort that comes after being kicked in the groin. It’s not the intense initial pain that can bring a man to his knees, but the ensuing cramping discomfort that keeps him from walking straight for several minutes. Again, it’s all more internal discomfort that external pain around my scrotum. It’s hard to describe. It’s like the roots of my testicles, wherever they originate in my body cavity, that’s where it hurts. It hurts to sit and get up from a seat, when pressure is put directly on the scrotum. Getting in and out of my car is probably the worst.
The 9.9-level pain of the procedure has been quickly forgotten. It sucked, but did not permanently scar me. Now in about 8 weeks I’ll send in a sample of my new fluids to check my potency. Right now, sperm still live in the larger section of my vas deferens and it will take time to clear the pipes. According to the paperwork, approximately 20-30 ejaculations. After the first sample is tested, I will then give another sample within two weeks. When I have given two samples within 2 weeks of one another, and both show no sperm, I am awarded the green flag of being sterile.

Original Sin

I don't pretend to be a Biblical scholar or theologian in training. Like most professed Christians, practically Duty #1 is to admit to being a sinner and base your life around seeking forgiveness, in words to God, and in action to the secular world. After some brief study, there is no use of the term "Original sin" in the Bible, in any translation of it. It is mostly a presumed status, that we are born into sin, by the belief that no one can be as perfect and sin-free as Jesus, and by the words of David in Psalm 51. This is where David is bearing his soul and begging forgiveness for committing adultery with Bathsheba.

In verse 5 he says (NIV): "Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me."

Boom. There it is. Also referred to as "ancestral sin", people have picked up on those words from David (and other glancing references, like in Romans 5: 12-21) and run with it - evolving the term original sin.

Little Karissa, saintly as she looks, is a sinner? Right now? Jesus never says explicitly, and the idea originates from a man desperately wrought with guilt after committing one of the 7 ultimate No-No sins.

Eh ... something for someone with a few more theological stripes on his shoulder than I, a guy who tries to live as cleanly as possible, but who also can barely recite just a couple of key Bible verses.

Now, no slight against our beautiful son, so full of wonderment and curiostiy. His little troublemaking ventures are merely blog stories waiting to happen ... not full-blow sin! Right?

You see a cute little boy. We see the genesis of something that will have one of us shouting his name.

If there's ever a moment to wonder, it's now. How else does he learn to fake eating? Like when he's eating just fine, but then suddenly becomes consumed with getting down to go play with his Elmo or firetruck. We tell him to eat another bite of something, then he takes the fork of food just to the front of his open mouth ... clamps down on nothing ... then moves his jaw in a fake chew. He's never seen either one of us do it. Where does it come from?

What about the look he gives when he's been alone in a room way too long, with way too much quiet around. We turn around the corner and catch him standing all by himself with seemingly nothing amiss around him, except for a look on his face that says: Am I in trouble or not? Did you see that or not? Are you going to stay right there, or pursue this crime scene further? Can I just start repeating the word "poop" and divert your attention like an ice cream truck to a dog? Where does a 2-year-old learn deceit?

I don't need to see black kernels to know that burnt popcorn has been in the room, and I don't need to see broken glass, Crayola marks on the wall, or an open cabinet to know that unapproved tomfoolery has taken place with our boy.

Original sin, or ancestral sin? I don't think that even the Bible can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt - and the Bible already has a fair share of doubters. But I think a little boy named Kole Fletcher is proof enough.

Milestones Quickly Emerge

Not only is she holding her head up and able to sit in a Bumbo seat (for 5-10 minutes at a time, before her head gets a tad too heavy), but this past week Karissa also made a very successful transition to her crib for nighttime sleep. We're still keeping our fingers crossed and hoping we don't jinx ourselves. So - knock on wood, and all that goes with that. She now spends more time awake through the day, which is a great thing. Her eyes sparkle, her smiles more often. She's eating well and growing well and she's normally good for sleep between 10pm and 6 or maybe 7am. She does most of her daytime naps on her tummy but we have not given in to the nighttime tummy sleep, so she is on her back. And again - no swadlle, feet and arms sprawled all around just like she likes it.
Kole continues to baffle us with his development of words. He's very good about saying 'please' and 'thank you', but is not sure of the appropriate times to use them. He'll say 'please' over and over and over again, into a frenzied whining state, without ever saying exactly what he wants, please.
So we ask - "Do you want juice?"
Kole: "Please!" (in proper, phonetic Kole-talk he say ah-peez, two syllables, for some reason)
"Do you want milk?"
"Ah-peez!"
"Kole - what do you want? You have to tell Daddy."
"Ah-peez!"
This goes on and on. Tho other abnormality is for him to say "thank you" as he takes something without asking.
As we train him to say "thank you" we say it to him as he's receiving something he wants - a cookie, juice, a toy, etc. Hand it over, we say "thank you", in a way that demands an echo - "thank you" he then responds (phonetically: tain-too). So he takes the verbal cue as something said upon getting something. We could be sitting on the couch with a telephone sitting next to us, maybe after just having gotten on to him for getting too handsy with the phone (he's actually called people by just screwing around pushing buttons), but then he'll walk right back up as if nothing was said, grab the phone and say emphatically - "thank you!", since that's the words he associates with getting something he wants now.
And it still blows my mind away into itsy-bitsy pieces that I'm nearly 40, I have a 2-year-old and nearly 3-month old. But that doesn't hold a candle to the fact that I still find myself having to say the following words just to change the boy's diaper: "Honey - where's the duct tape?"

A Show of Concern

We spin yarn on this site about Kole's troubles, foibles, and even some interesting events and firsts and accomplishments. Today, we have a tale of Kole showing compassion and concern.

The scene was in his bedroom preparing for bed. In his jammies and under covers, little Kole told his mother in a cheery voice, "Book! Book!" So Kathy retrieved a book from a shelf.

She then knelt down to the bed to read him the story, but on her descent banged her knee against Kole's bed. Going a little above and beyond the average knee stinger, Kathy gave a bit of an animated hobble was verbalizing some sort of pain or displeasure with her little oops.

Kole responded by laughing, as if his mother were some sort of jester providing one final nighty-night dance.

Kathy, not in a scolding way, simply gave a sad face and responded: "Mommy hurt her knee."

Kole's face then turned stoic with concern, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Waswrong, Momma?" he said in his soft baby-voice, as if he were on the verge of tears, still laying down with his head turned on the pillow.

Kathy responded proudly, "That's very sweet of you to ask of Momma. I just hurt my knee, but I'll be okay."

The book was read, then goodnights and kisses were exchanged.

Whether he's mocking what he's seen from his parents showing concern for Karissa or what, it's a bit of a breakthrough moment that he showed legitimate emotion for his mother's well being.

Thanksgiving 2010

We had Thanksgiving at Grammy and Grandpa Gedy's place, the Wah-Hoo Ranch, in NW Parker County. Karissa spent more than half her time in someone's arms and was loved on by her adoring family and fans. Kole had a great time playing with his cousins Riley and Reagan, but could not give a thorough review of the traditional Thanksgiving feast if he had to. He nibbled at his turkey and dressing and mostly just ate his roll and mashed potatoes, then later some peanut butter and crackers. Strange kid.

Because of the cold and wind he didn't get outside and play as much as he wanted to, or we wanted him to, but he still was able to have a great time and get lots of love from his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. We were home by 9:30 and Kole was straight to bed and asleep within seconds. Karissa took one final feeding upon returning home and slept great through the night.

No Black Friday shopping around here. Nobody was awake until after 7:00am then we sloughed around in our jammies until midafternoon. I did catch a key moment on camera for the first time. Kole increasingly wants to hold Karissa. This request comes from the phrase "Help ... help ... help". It actually sounds something like "Hey-yope ... hey-yope ... hey-yope". We've convinced him that several actions of his are actually helping mommy or daddy, not just getting him to do something we want. He's done this for a couple of weeks, holding Karissa while sitting on the sofa. Only today would he allow me to photograph him and not freak out.

After taking this picture and when Kathy finally took the baby from him, he freaked out a little, wanting her back - "Help! Help! Help!". Sorry, Kole. Karissa needs to take a nap now. He doesn't fully understand now. He does love his little sister.

Many Things To Smile About

I have gone out of my way to avoid putting really, really embarrassing photos of Kole just for the sake of getting a cheap giggle for adult amusement. But, there's one particular little habit he has that must be ... documented and preserved photographically, since it would be too easy to think that it is something we've exaggerated. But - no, it's no exaggeration that we've had to secure many of Kole's diapers with duct tape. If left unattended, in his room for a nap as an example, he will have his pants off in no time. Then, without hesitation, off will come the diaper. There has been one very unfortunate incident with a diaper-less Kole, but otherwise there's just a constant threat of an incident. So, on ocassion, we will have to take drastic measures to secure the diaper.

In other news, we are getting some more frequent smiles from Karissa. We may be on the verge of cooing, giving us some other noise besides a cry. She is definitely more fun to have awake, as she also will keep her head up for several seconds at a time. Her big brother is learning to love his little sister. On a couple of instances, he has actually held Karissa while sitting on the couch. He smiles and has that look of being proud of himself for carrying out such an adult-like activity that he sees from his mom and dad. However, when a camera comes out, he quickly gets nervous and whiney. It's very strange and suspicious. It's like he knows what it is and just doesn' want to be photographed. Strange kid. Must be his Thomas genes coming out.

We Have A Full Night Sleeper!

Last night just after a feeding just befoer the 10:00 News, Karissa finally fell into her peaceful slumber right around 10:30. And then, there was a bit of a false alarm around 4:00am, when she was overdue for a feeding, as she began to cry a bit ... but then went right back to sleep until 5:30! It's a full night of sleep, right at about the 7-week mark!

It may not be a routine just yet, but at least we know she's capable of it. It probably helped that a couple of days ago she had a good sneeze - one of those big blowout sneezes, as gross stuff went everywhere. All kinds of oozy bright gold snot. But, it appears to have been just the clearing of pipes that she needed. She's been breathing without obstruction since and has been sleeping more soundly.

And I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but Karissa - just like Kole - debunks the myth of the swaddle. She won't take it and doesn't like it. It took us a while to rule it out, thinking that surely this is what she wants, while something else is making her cry. But, desperate ideas soon became a pattern - just let her lay as she chooses to lay, on her tummy or back, and put a blanket loosely over her up to about mid-back, beneath her arms. Her normal sleeping pose on her back is with arms up in 'touchdown' position, or when not in her bassinet, she'll spread her arms out as wide as she can. Kole was the same way as a tiny infant, hating the swaddle. But where Karissa would just cry, Kole was very strong and would bust out of any blanket, no matter if the blanket was tightened with knots. The kid did not want to be restrained ... a trait that has definitely transfered over to his current state as a 2-year-old.

I won't call a baby's "need" to be swaddled a myth, but I know that it never applied in our house. The parenting books preach about "learning your baby's cry", which I think is an incredibly misleading expectation to heap on a new parent. A more appropriate sermon should be: Learn a checklist to go down to address your baby's cry. How long has it been since the last feeding? The last diaper? The obvious two. If it's neither of those, stop trying to finger through a mental index of cries from the past and what this one may match, just keep going down the checklist. Could she be too warm, which even the books acknowledge is a frequent foible, having a baby all dressed up then bundled up more with a blanket in a hot house. Etc., on down the checklist. Since Kole taught us that swaddling was a definite option that could be opted out, we added that to Karissa's checklist and - viola - without arms and legs tied down to her she calmed down and was soon asleep.