Littles is our bonus baby. Yeah, breastfeeding isn’t birth control. God sure knew what he was doing, though, because if we had waited a year, the difficulties that are Smash-N-Break may have made me not want to try again. And Littles completed our trilogy.
I found out that Littles was on the way at 4 1/2 weeks. When you’re used to skipping half of the first trimester, it makes it hard. I’m also a pessimist. He was such a welcome surprise that I was a nervous wreck convinced I would lose him as a punishment. Hey, I’m pretty sure I’m hell-bound, and figure God needs to punish me while I’m alive. My hand basket to hell is very well decorated. You’re invited to ride it into hell with me. So, Littles let me know he was in there securely. I puked. Constantly. For NINE MONTHS. One day, I puked over 50 times. I just stopped counting at that point. It was only 3 in the afternoon.
Littles birth was a cluster. But, he was an easy baby. He was just so attached to me. Still is. Part of that was because of me – I had bad PPD and PPA, and would panic leaving him. Part of that is his personality. He had acid reflux to – 3 for 3! But, by now, I had learned about the Rock’N’Play. Love it. He slept! It kept him at the right angle so his reflux could be controlled. Yes, I know now that it can increase the SIDS risk. We were fortunate.
When Littles was 18 months, he wasn’t talking. We had an evaluation, and he was diagnosed as having a speech delay. They also thought he had SPD, too, but not severe enough to need intervention. By the time we moved to Texas (he was a month shy of 2), he didn’t need the intervention anymore. He still won’t talk to strangers much, but he’s quite the chatterbox at home and once he’s comfortable with you.
Littles is very possessive. He tells his brothers “My Momma” often, and can have a meltdown if they get near me on his bad days. He hates the sound of the lawn mower, and has started to hate the sound of the vacuum. Slapping his ears is commonplace (by him, not me). Tags are often removed from his clothing because texture. Certain clothes won’t be worn because texture. He gets his hand wet, or a drop of rain, and crying commences because texture. He does like bath time, as long as it’s his idea. He avoids senses, where Smash-N-Break seeks them out. Food is challenging, because texture. I swear he survives on air right now. If it keeps getting worse, another evaluation may be necessary. He also watches TV on his head, just like Smash-N-Break (editors note:it looks like Mork’s kids are visiting our house sometimes).
Littles wants to learn. He tries to write his name, and will sit to be taught with me (as long as it’s in my lap). He’s cautious with his adventures, but will follow his brothers anywhere. He is quieter than his brothers. He’s content. He views Plus One as a discipline. Don’t get me wrong, he loves his Daddy. It’s just that when I have to discipline him, he views it as his world collapsing. I have to be very careful in how I discipline him. I’m his safe place, and with this SPD, I have to be careful. There’s tantrums, and then there’s SPD meltdowns. When we hold him, we have to use more pressure than with Bubba. We do the same with Smash-N-Break when he’s still enough to cuddle. I worry that I’m sheltering him too much. There are just days where I know that the status quo will be easier for me to handle (and him), so I don’t push him outside his box as much as I probably should. He got his Daddy’s brown eyes and brown hair.
He loves elephants. He’s very smiley. You can see the love he has in his eyes. He may just not show it to you physically. I can get all the hugs and kisses I want, but everyone else has to ask him permission. I hope I’m not stifling him. I worry I’m doing everything wrong with him. With all of them.