kids you can't live with them, can't eat 'em

I am a mother of 8 children and during their years, I have been through many situations with them. To survive this many children you have to have a good sense of humor.
MOTHERHOOD

I like most women wanted children. Unfortunately you have to carry them around for 9 months. I was not one of these women that enjoyed being pregnant. I'd rather walk through fields of broken glass and jump into a large vat of iodine than to have to endure one pregnancy. During the early months of pregnancy I always go through the pleasure of seeing up close and becoming personal with my toilet. I craved hot dogs with everything on them only to find myself in the bathroom wishing I hadn't, then turn around and do it again. I always felt very large and cumbersome and often looked like I had a stomach goiter.

I know some women enjoyed feeling the baby growing and moving inside but I always felt like I was doing a scene from "Alien". I did not experience the 'feminine mystique' like most women do. I had so many stretch marks my body looked a road map of Kathmandu. My feet would swell so that my shoes wouldn't fit and it is at those times that everyone wants to go for a nice family walk in the mountains'. I will give you an example: After applying two tubs of lard to each foot so that I could can get my shoes on, I’d manage to waddle over to the car and everyone would laugh because they’d think I was doing the "funky duck", no, actually I was just trying to juggle natures' little gift. I’d manage to slide into position like someone who just had hemorrhoid surgery. Awww I made it and we’re off! It really feels kind of good doing something normal. But wait! Mother Nature has come to call and being pregnant it always feels like you have a full bladder. So I’d beg my husband to stop the car so I could go.

Now I always had a wonderful husband that knew just how bad I had to go and so when he stopped the car, it was alongside the road. I would really try to be inconspicuous and hope no one saw me, (here is a woman that is huge and she is hoping no one can see her?) I’d make it down the side of the little hill to do my thing but the only problem would be that if I tried to squat, gravity alone would pull me down and I COULDN’T get back up without help. So I’d fall right into my own puddle and if that weren’t bad enough, I’d end up hollering for help. Well, if I were at home no one would hear me but where it is really mortifying everyone heard me. I not only had my family coming to my rescue but dozens of onlookers also.

Already my dignity was slipping away. I'd manage to get back into the car and after about 30 more stops we made it to the mountain, but now the day is almost gone so we’d turn around and head back, and once again I had to stop, and stop, and stop. All I really wanted was to get home and put this day behind me.


Home at last, now to get these shoes off. Oh no, I am going to need the Jaws of Life for this operation and I realized the oil slick me feet are leaving is worse than the Valdez oil spill.
I would be so tired from the fun of the afternoon I just wanted to retire. I would waddle up the stairs to climb into a tub of nice hot water. I could hardly stay awake; I think it'll sure feel good to get off my feet and sleep. Finally relaxed, clean, happy, I’d make my way to the bed, close my eyes and realize I had company.......... Mr. Insomnia!!!!!!!!!!! He decided he is going to stay for the rest of my pregnancy. Well, when the baby comes I knew I could sleep then, right? Now if I was lucky enough to fall asleep, Mother Nature would send her uncle..............Uncle Charley Horse. My poor husband has been brought out of a deep sleep many a quiet nights by the sound of a shrill shrieking voice coming from my side of the bed. He thought it was war cries but no, it's me getting ready to gnaw my leg off.


About the only thing I did like about pregnancy is that my chest size increased. I went from a -32aaa to a +1. I felt like a playboy bunny but it seemed it wasn't long before my stomach got larger making my chest look small again. Then if that wasn't bad enough my belly button would turn inside out. My stomach looked like it was growing a nose.
During pregnancy the child I was carrying always worked as an insulator. If I was pregnant during the winter it was good, but during the summer, then it wasn't. I hated it when people told me I had a glow. I was suffering from a body temperature of 110 degrees. Heck, it wasn't a glow, it was heat stroke.

Finally the big day comes, I was so excited to finally meet this little person who I had been carrying for nine months and had made my life a living hell the whole time. The nurse checked me in and I was ready to go.

The sleep I so richly deserved was right around the corner. I wanted to feel every pain, I was going to be a good mother, and I was already sacrificing for this child. "No I don't want any anesthesia, just a bullet to chew on will do. The pain really isn't so bad, I could do this standing on my head." I laid back in my bed and closed my eyes and had just started to relax......................ALL OF A SUDDEN SOMEONE HAD STRAPPED TWO TEAMS OF HORSES TO MY STOMACH AND HAD THEM RUNNING IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!YEEHAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I would look for anything that would help me cope with the pain............a gun...........horse tranquilizer....................baseball bat etc. I would grab the only thing I could find...........my husband!!!!!!!!!! Now he would be sitting there looking at me and wondering why I was thrashing about so much, then he’d feel me clamp my hand onto his inner thigh into a death grip. He'd scream, I'd scream....until I finally came away with a souvenir, a nice piece of pliable thigh muscle.

Then the urge to push would come over me, an uncontrollable urge to push. My husband who is ever so observant at the wrong times, would comment on the funny faces I was making and the pretty shades of red my face is changing to. I thought if I only looked that way nine months ago during romance I might not be going through this right now. With one final push and the feeling like my head would explode, I gave birth. A baby, oh how cute. Oh how tired I was.

My husband was beaming, well he can afford to, after all it is his fruit you just bore, which by the way felt like a watermelon. After childbirth I am probably looking my worst. My hair is messed up, I am all sweaty, I'm drooling, I'm shaking, my false teeth have been thrown across the room and I am smiling because it is over. "Honey you look beautiful." Well, he would say that, because you realize that is pretty much the way you look after a night of passionate lovemaking. The next sound I would hear was the sound of a baby crying.

A sound I would hear all too often before it is over. All my hopes and dreams would be compiled into this sweet little child laying in my arms. Are we ever really prepared? The day came that I took my little bundle home. Oh boy, our family had finally begun.

1st year

Being home with a newborn is like a fresh start. Everything is going well for the 1st three days except for fatigue, a few sore spots and the constant succession of well meaning people. Every one wants to come and see the new addition which I didn’t mind but when they would bring gifts to the door, i.e. strollers, high chairs, playpens and throw them into your arms to carry back to your chair while they ran over to grab the baby was all a little too much. Every one wants to know how the labor and delivery went.
How many stitches you got? Do you have hemorrhoids? Was there a lot of amniotic fluid and are you going to save the umbilical cord in the baby’s’ scrap book? All I really wanted was to relax and get to know my baby. When all the visitors curiosity had been cured and I was alone again I could sit back and relish the feeling of something so small and helpless needing me. I studied every little feature; their fingers, toes, eyes, nose, chin, knees, head, and ears.
Everything about them was so perfect. I was on top of the world, I felt content, happy and then IT happened……….My milk came in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I began to look like something off of a 4-H farm. I’d wake up at 4 a.m., grab a small stool, a milk bucket and wait patiently.
The next thing that would creep up on me would be the “Baby Blues”, and I am not talking about singing but total depression and it seemed that they would come calling at the strangest times. I’d be right in the middle of changing my baby’s diaper, the real messy kind, the kind that only mothers can change and live through, the kind that needs a sand blaster. The tears would start flowing and I would cry out, “I’m not worthy!” My husband who is praying he never has to change a diaper like this has heard me and believing I’m referring to the diaper change replies nervously, “Yes honey, you are.”
Men have this memory loss that comes with having babies. They act like the child you have carried for nine months and endured 19 hours of pain for was created solely by them. My husband like so many proud papas would carry a picture of the baby in his wallet next to mine. “Hey you want to see a picture of my child?” Someone might say then, “Nice looking kid. Then they’d point to a picture of me and ask “Who is the other picture of?” He would then respond, “Oh her? She is just the vessel that carried this fine specimen that I created.”
The months pass and a baby goes through many changes. The sleep I really deserved still hadn’t come. I learned to see the world through foggy eyes and brain. Babies are constantly learning; they will take in more during their 1st year than any other time in their life.
During this period of adjustment, I had learned that my body had not nor will it ever without the help of plastic surgery go back to any semblance of its original state. The stretch marks are here to stay and every time my husband looks at my nude body now, he gets all dreamy eyed, looks out the window and replies, “I hear Kathmandu is nice this time of year.” Some say that gravity has come to call, where once I had knockers, I now have knee knockers. I just tell them that parts of me are very relaxed.
I breastfed all my children, usually I didn't produce a lot of milk so after a short time I would put them on formula. That depressed me also, I felt that I was distancing myself from them. My last child I breastfed as I had more milk than most dairy cows. The feeling was that I was finally doing it right.. I breast fed her for almost 5 months, no sore nipples, good milk supply, she was on a really good schedule. One evening after giving her the bath and rubbing her down with lotion and getting her dressed, she was so sleepy and relaxed, the next thing was to nurse her and that should be about it before my little angel was ready for sleep. I'd sit in my chair that rocked and begin to nurse her.
I would be humming softly and taking in this gift of perfection, I found it very relaxing, Then I would feel teeth bite my nipple, teeth searing into the flesh, I let out this yell, well it scared her so bad she started crying, so in trying to comfort her I explained to her that the nipple is not a chew toy, "Honey I don't even let your dad do that." After that when I tried to nurse her, my breasts would retract so it was time to put her on a bottle.
One of my favorite times in my child rearing was bath time. As long as everything went okay. A warm bath always relaxes my babies. I’d give them a bath, get them ready for bed, nurse them and they would be out. Not every time went so smoothly though. Sometimes putting them in the tub and letting them play would be my first mistake.
After washing their hair and getting them clean, I would decide to read while they played. It was at those times a smell would reach my nose and I would find something smeared all over; in their hair, their bodies, teeth. Nothing like a warm bath to relax the bowels. I have learned how to maneuver without getting too much on me. After spending what seemed like hours retching in the toilet, I’d manage to get them clean again and out before they decided to get artistic again. They are so pleased with their freelance art work even if you’re not.

2nd year

I love children but something happens when they reach 2 yrs. old. It seems it is downhill for the next 16 years. For the first year my little bundle from heaven had grown and done a lot of things that were cute and real milestones. I would spend a lot of energy preparing and training him. I set his feet in the path that would make me the most proud. The something happened that I prayed never would. He discovered he had a brain, which meant ……………………………………………………..independent thinking!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was the end of a beautiful relationship. My husband and I had to resort to spelling everything because our little trooper had learned to talk. Which is really bad if you can’t spell.
The terrible twos are quite an understatement. Our children had 2 years of being cute to make up for. He did just the opposite of what we told him, and what’s worse he had perfected the fine art of screaming. Personally I would rather have a bucket of ice poured down my pants than to have a 2-year-old scream in my ear.
Next came potty training. Boys are naturally adventuresome and I found it harder to potty train a boy than a girl. So I had to be more creative. I’d put objects in the toilet and let my son play "sink the Bismarck". Soon he got very good with his aim and he seemed to like the idea of hitting targets so much so that he practiced until he could hit a fly off the wall in a single shot or hit the mole on my cheek at 20 paces. Many times I could have sworn that I heard the theme song from "The Good the Bad, and the Ugly" playing in the background. It was at this time that he also realized that he could make things disappear when he flushed the toilet. We had many things disappear, to him this was very exciting and to our cat when he tried to flush her.
It was quite disturbing when my son went through his nudity phase. He’d strip naked and then take off outside while I wasn’t looking. He’d be running up the street, smiling, waving, and blowing kisses to all onlookers. He seemed to think he was some kind of sex symbol. ‘Oh, oh here comes mom in hot pursuit. He thought it was a game of tag and would run faster squealing with delight. I’d have to run, jump and tackle him. I’d apologize to the neighbors and assure them that this was not a behavior I condoned while I am spanking his bare butt. He, on the other hand would be winking, and telling everyone, "Catch you on the flip side, babe!"
Small children can be very scary. They are into everything and from a very early age everything goes into their mouths. I had made bubbles for my 2 older kids. Without thinking I set the glass on the edge of the table. The kids were having fun blowing the bubbles. My 2-year-old walked over and seeing the cup believed it was something to drink and downed the bubble concoction. Her started spitting and sputtering, everytime he tried to cry or cough, and the only thing that came out was bubbles. Bubbles everywhere. My 2 older kids saw the humor in this and laughed but I was frantic. I ran him into the bathroom to wash him off but all I got was more bubbles. "Lawrence Welk where are you?!!!!!!"
This kid was like a human bubble machine. Thank goodness all ended up ok.
I’m a firm believer that kids should remain in their cribs until the age of accountability, which is 18 in my book. I had to learn the hard way. My oldest son would wake up and decide to wake me up by whatever means he could devise that morning. I had the pleasure of waking up to dirt being patted on my face as if her were trying to repot my nose or coming out of a sound sleep with a pencil being jabbed up my nose coming in contact with that part of the brain that senses pain. I know the pencil was sharp because the pain was.

3 year olds

One of my sons went through an identity crisis early on. At first it was real cute but soon became physically disabling to me! He believed he was a dog. He barked and growled at everyone. He would sniff people’s legs, their hands, and he’d lick their faces. If we hit him with a rolled up newspaper then he would whimper and whine. We even caught him eating dog food. He seemed to prefer Mighty Dog over Ken’l Ration. It was real cute till he turned on me. I was reading, and relaxed, when all of a sudden I felt teeth clamp down on my ankle and heard growling as flesh was being ripped from the bone on my leg. For a split second I thought I was being attacked by a rottweiller, no it was just my rottenson. We finally had to put a stop to his behavior when he started tearing up the newspapers and eating our shoes.
With that phase comfortably behind us he could explore and evolve into another phase of his social growth. He took a real interest in DINOSAURS! He became a…Tyrannosaurus Rex.
He would walk on his tiptoes, curve his middle and index fingers like claws and go on his rampage. He would screech at people, make kids cry, and needless to say I had to have my groceries brought in because I had been banned from all public places. I couldn’t even get a babysitter, every one was afraid of him.
When I was finally able to go back to the stores, I found my grocery bill going up. I kept thinking that inflation had risen to around 400%. It just so happened that mommy’s’ little helper was doing his own shopping. I learned not to take him in any stores unless he was properly restrained, in a straight jacket.
It is about this time that they are learning to throw real well. I would be reading, minding my own business when all of a sudden I would see stars all around me, but before I passed out I’d manage to look and he would be smiling ever so proudly. He had thrown a golf ball and hit me square in the forehead. "Oh say can you see those Stars and Stripes forever?" You bet, sign that kid up with the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Get that kid as far East as possible before he decides to throw something else. To this day I panic and go into panic attacks when I see golf balls.
I loved taking my children to church with me but heaven only knows why. I really wanted my people to believe that I had the best kids on the face of the earth. I used to fast and pray that their mouths and bodies be bound until church was over. It never happened, my children who I adored were so awful that people would come up to me after church and inquire, "Gee Mrs. Slater, maybe you ought to look into early baptism." I would try to explain that they were only 3 and that there was still hope. One Sunday my son decided he wanted to sing with the rest of the congregation and even if he didn’t know the words, he would fake everyone out by singing with enough zest and zeal like everyone else. You could hear all through the church him singing "Stupid, stupid, stupid" through the entire song.

4 years

At 4 years old kids are a lot of fun. They have a pretty good vocabulary, can entertain themselves for quite awhile. They are somewhat independent and had me trained pretty good. Now I felt that I could relax somewhat. That is until they discover "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" I saw no real danger in it, it seemed harmless enough. I thought the turtles had pretty good values. I loved watching my son pretend to be Donatello. I could have watched him for hours until that fateful night. He got a little carried away and I got kicked in the shins and hit in the throat with a large stick while he is yelling, "Cowabunga Dude!" I realized I had just about enough of sacrificing for this child, I watched as my mental status slip into the dark abyss of mental instability.
Kids of this age also learn to be sneaky. I would find finger tracks in the peanut butter, kool whip, butter, and ice cream. When I did confront him I would be told the cat did it. How could I argue with that?
At this age they have whining down to a fine science and wouldn’t be happy till I was really angry. Once my son wanted a drink and wanted it now!!!!!!!! I was in the middle of a conversation and said I would get it in a minute. He wasn’t happy with that and screamed at me. So I got up, very controlled and proceeded to get him his water. When I returned I poured it on his head. He cried and I smiled and went back to my conversation. When I was done I got him his drink but by that time he had gotten his own…….right from the toilet. Again I wretched.
It was at this time that spankings became less effective and we had to find more meaningful ways of getting our point across. Ours was a cold shower with the clothes on. Now we didn’t make the kid stay in there till hypothermia set in. We didn’t need to, he knew within seconds that this was something he did not like. He hated it and therefore we knew we were on the right track. If given a choice between a spanking or cold shower, he would choose a spanking. Well, guess you know which one we would do. He may not have been happy but at least he was clean.
One of the most embarrassing things about child rearing is your child’s habits. My son being in his own Sunday school class would at times sing with his class in front of the whole congregation. Most parents looked forward to that moment, not me. I just knew that something would go wrong. Sure enough out of all the kids, mine would be the one standing in the front picking his nose, the only one.

5 years

I have found 5 yr. olds to be very affectionate. One of my
sons would ask me to marry them when they grow up. "I love you,
mommy."
"I love you too, honey." 5 min. later "I love you,
mommy."
"I love you too, honey." So it goes all day until I am saying I love you
through clenched teeth and feeling as though I really just
want to choke the life out of them, all out of love of
course.
Children can be very insecure, They don't want to be left behind
with a sitter. They will cling to your legs and go into
theatrics and try to make you feel guilty. "Mommy, please
don't leave me. Let me go with you. I promise I won't call daddy a poo-poo
face anymore. Please, I promise I'll be good and quiet. I promise I won't breathe."
I’d look at my young sons purple face and see he is trying real
hard to keep his promise. How can I say no? "Okay, you can go
but you have to keep your promise not to breathe." So we’d
head to the car, my son skipping, holding his breath and
feeling like all is right with the world. I’d wonder just how
long he can really hold his breath?
I loved seeing my children learning to ride their bikes. It
is good seeing them sailing down the road looking so grown up
and independent on their Huffy. Then when they seemed to have
mastered the fine art of riding, I’d see arms and legs flailing
and the once proud metal steed would be sailing off into the sunset.
I’d run over to check on my child, crowds are forming and you know the
child is really okay until they see you coming then comes the drama.
"Mom, is that really you? Come closer, it's getting dark and cold.
I'm failing fast. Bring your face closer so that I may gaze upon
your beauty one last time. Tell dad I love him and I don't want you to
blame yourself for not buying me a safer bike like the one that I wanted.
I know your happiness is more important, this accident was not your fault.
Many of you have experienced sibling rivalry either personally or
through your kids. This is where you are either ‘good parent or bad
parent’ but you are definitely referee. I’d be trying to break up a
fight when I would be the one to get hurt. That would usually case some anger from the one that felt I was on their side. This in itself would start another fight and the blaming would start on who hurt mom. I have often heard that banging heads together usually puts an end to fighting but can cause brain damage if done to often. Sometimes a mom has to do what a mom has to do, so weighing the options and considering all the avenues, I figured I could deal with the brain damage at a later date.
Starting school can be exciting and traumatic. Exciting for you but traumatic for the teachers.

6 years

I believe that God created creatures for a purpose. Some were created for companionship, some for garbage disposal, some for man to eat, and some to make mothers neurotic. There is nothing like pulling a dead June Bug out of my sons pockets or scraping slug slime off the bottom of his feet. But I have to honestly say that the all time worst was when my son opened his footlocker and turned it into a half way house for wayward garden snakes. There had to have been around 500 snakes in his footlocker. They were crawling and slithering all over each other. I don’t know how long they had been in there but it was definitely long enough to get a good stench going.
The name-calling was another thing that made me crazy. One child would start off with names like "You dummy", then the other would try to outdo that with "You stupid idiotic", so it would go with the name calling competition until there was nothing left except to become physical. Once again I would try to stop the fight and getting hurt in the process. Once that had been stopped they would resort to sticking their tongues out at each other. It would expand to tattling and then the sound of heads coming in contact with each other again. Ah quiet at last, I hope they’ll be okay.