Evolution of the diaper change

I was changing my daughter’s diaper this evening, just like any parent with a young infant would be doing, when it dawned on me.  A process, which should be evolving towards eventual potty training and the disappearance of the diaper, has become something similar to a dance or a wrestling match between myself and the ever elusive Bug!

You may laugh, but think back to when you first get your brand new baby, fresh out of the package.  They’re so fragile, so tiny, you’re almost afraid to touch them, or if you’re holding them, to lay them down, afraid they’ll bruise like a soft peach.  Any action is a delicate processes, including the diaper change.  Especially those first few days, it’s a process all its own.  Your baby is swaddle in their blanket keeping them warm, you have to slowly unwrap them, which eventually just pisses them off, but then you have to take off the small diaper and clean them of their small mess, apply baby powder and a fresh diaper.  A processes, especially while still in the hospital, seems to be enjoyed by grandmothers for whatever reason.  (You might find it strange, but I have stood back and watched a number of different grandmothers all but jump at the chance to change those tiny diapers while at the hospital.  Possibly because they know of the nightmares to come?  Hmmmm….).

Eventually after you get home, your baby grows and you become more comfortable around them, and the diaper changing process, to where your hand/eye coordination is top notch!  You can get your baby’s butt clean and dry before anyone even realizes what you’re doing.  During this time, your baby is still content with simply lying there, possibly fussing, but you feel confident in your diaper changing abilities.  You can wipe a small butt with the best of them, and you zoom through the processes like nothing.  You can change a diaper from nearly any position or situation and still have it looking perfect.  You’re a master of your diaper domain, and you’re not ashamed to stand tall and say it!

Then suddenly, at some point, things change.  So far you have been making forward progress, getting more efficient, knowing your baby’s patterns, and when you finally have it down to where you can effortlessly change a diaper in the dark, BAM!!  They turn into the Ric Flair of the infant world!  Turning, squirming, screaming, grabbing, slinging, throwing, absolutely anything and everything they can do to try and prevent you from either removing the diaper, or cleaning them.  What used to be a simple process for just you, now requires 3 Navy Seals, a tranquilizer gun and a spot light!  And if they have a diaper rash and you have to put on any cream….oh boy!  All I can say is “God speed brave soul.”

What I don’t get is, why?!  They’re getting older, the messes are getting bigger and well you’d think they’d want it off them.  Only it seems like the opposite.  You can have your baby girl in your arms, loving on you, being happy and smiling, until she realizes what you plan on doing to do, at that point, the horns come out, the bell rings to start the match, and ITS ON!!  Don’t get me wrong, sometimes she’s still my perfect little girl, but typically….shew!  And I realize some might be laughing, saying its just a normal thing, and I’m not saying its not.  Its just, even though I have 3 kids, this is the first one I’ve really been around where I’m having to change diapers everyday, and well….the behavior just seems backwards to me.

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Ballard Parsons

This was written by my uncle John and originally published in the June 10th, 2010 edition of the Mt. Vernon Signal.  As it covers a subject I have previously wrote about, I wanted to post it here because I feel the two compliment each other, showing how Ballard touch multiple generations the same way, showing what a truly special person he really was.

On Saturday, June 12 we will celebrate the 20^th “Ballard’s Day” in Wildie. Ballard’s birthday is June14, he would have been 70 years old. This is a pitch-in meal and everyone is invited, you don’t have to bring anything to attend, just yourself.

Ballard Parsons was born on June 14, 1940. In the summer of 1952 he was helping his Dad haul milk and bale hay. He was already driving both the truck and tractor and was on his way to becoming a farmer. He was a big and strong 12 year old boy. This was about to change.

Around the first of July Ballard began to get sick. His parents thought he had a cold or the flu. His younger sister Libby was sick too. Ballard began to have trouble keeping his balance and he stumbled a lot. This was really out of the ordinary for him because he was such a strong young boy. By July 4, he couldn’t walk. Kenneth Stewart, his cousin, came by to check on him and immediately loaded him in the car and went to Mt. Vernon to find Dr. George Griffith. Dr. Griffith met Ballard, Kenneth and Ballard’s Dad, Shirley Parsons at his office.

Without delay Dr. Griffith sent Ballard to Berea Hospital and asked about any illness in other family members. When he found out that Ballard’s sister, Libby, was sick too, he ordered her brought to his office. When he examined her he sent her to the Berea Hospital too.

What the family and Kenneth Stewart feared was unfortunately true. Both Ballard and Libby had contracted infantile paralysis, or polio. Ballard had reached the critical stage, but Libby’s had been caught early. Libby was treated and sent home, Ballard was not so lucky.

From the hospital in Berea Ballard was sent to St. Joseph hospital in Lexington. The disease had already done a lot of damage to Ballard’s strong body. He was losing use of his muscles and they began to waste away. He was also losing his ability to breath on his own.

Ballard was sent from St. Joseph to Cardinal Hill Hospital in Lexington for treatment. Cardinal Hill was almost brand new then. It was built especially to treat people with polio, mostly children. The money to build the hospital was from the “March of Dimes” campaign. This was a fund raising campaign to treat and find a cure for polio that almost every child in school participated in. You got a card with so many slots to place dimes in. When you filled that card up with dimes it was sent to the March of Dimes. It has been said that the March of Dimes should get most of the credit for conquering polio, it certainly saved Ballard’s life.

Ballard spent an entire year in Cardinal Hill. In order to breath he was placed in an “iron lung”. This was a huge device that his body was placed in with only his head outside of it. By mechanical means it caused his lungs to inflate and deflate and in effect, breathe for him. During this time Ballard was also given therapy to teach his body to breathe again on its own, the primary goal at that time was to get him off the iron lung.

Ballard was able to breathe on his own by the summer of 1953 and he came home.
He was in a wheelchair and he could only move his left arm and his right leg, both very little.

A couple of years later his Dad, Uncle Shirly to all of us nephews and cousins, bought Joe Bullen’s store in Wildie. Ballard ran that store every day but Sunday from then until he died in 2003. Here is where the real story of Ballard Parsons begins for me.

I speak for many people that grew up and/or lived in Wildie. Ballard’s store was the place to be. When I was very young it was Uncle Shirley’s store and I went there almost every day. If it was in the summer and school was out I went two or three times a day to talk to Ballard and just loaf. When school started back I would go after school and usually I would go at night with my Dad, because everybody in Wildie came to the store to loaf and exchange gossip. When my older brother, Tommy, was still home he loafed at the store too, when my younger brothers, Mark and Lynn, got old enough they then learned the art of loafing at Ballard’s from professionals.

Ballard would sit there in his wheelchair and be the center of all the conversations. There was a good reason he was in that position, it was because he was always the smartest person in the store and he knew more about what was being talked about than everybody else. He was never a pretender about what he knew and he was never smug, he was just smart. Ballard could add numbers in his head as quick as a calculator. When people bought groceries from him he would add up the total simply by the customer holding up the item bought. It didn’t matter how many items were bought, Ballard was never wrong in his addition. He was also the best checker and Rook player I have ever seen.

Ballard was my cousin. I loved him as much as anyone could love a cousin. I spent a lot of time with him over the years and I will never feel like one second of that time was wasted. He was always happy and he was positive in his outlook. He appreciated hearing a good joke and he was good enough at telling them that you would laugh until your belly hurt. He loved bluegrass music and you could often walk in on him singing along with the radio. For all of Ballard’s many talents, and he had more than most, singing was not one of them. But he loved to sing and that was all that mattered.

Ballard and my brother Tommy taught me to love the Cincinnati Reds and the Kentucky Wildcats. They both loved these teams and when Tommy went to the store they talked endlessly about them, depending on the season. I always felt lucky to be there just to hear what I thought was their expert opinion. The first teams I remember rooting for were the 1956 Cincinnati Reds and the 1958 Kentucky Wildcats. The ’56 Reds team had great hitting and poor pitching. It was Frank Robinson’s rookie season and he was voted rookie of the year in the National League. Johnny Coffey and William Henry Branaman (Ballard’s uncle) took Tommy and Ballard to Cincinnati to watch the Reds play that year. The ’58 Wildcats won the NCAA that year. We listened to the championship game on the radio in the back of Uncle Shirley’s store.

Ballard was the best farmer around, and he never left the wheelchair in the store. After Uncle Shirley died in 1970 Ballard helped his brother Donnie with the farm. For well over thirty years neither Donnie nor any other farmer who loafed in the store did anything without first consulting Ballard. He was always right too.

As I got older and went to the Army and then to school, I didn’t get to Ballard’s store as often as I had in the past. But, after I got out of school and settled back in the county, I started going to see Ballard almost every Saturday. When I could I would take my girls with me, I simply wanted them to know Ballard and his special place in the world. Some of my most favorite Saturday memories are when my three brothers and me would sit with Ballard for two or three hours. We ate our lunch there. We would eat pickled bologna, Vienna sausage, potted meat or whatever else was on the menu. .

Ballard died in 2003, just before my Mother did. My trips to Wildie were reduced in number greatly. I still go to church there and I still go to see my sister and brother-in-law, but a great part of the place is missing.

It goes without saying that my parents and my grandparents were great influences in my life. But, I can say without a doubt in my mind that Ballard Parsons was one of the greatest positive influences I’ve had. I don’t know how many times I have gone to see Ballard when I was feeling down or a bit depressed. All it cost me to feel better was a pop and bag of potato chips alone with a conversation with my cousin. I always thought if Ballard could be as happy as he is why I can’t be just a little happy myself. And, as I write this I now realize I had those thoughts and didn’t even realize at the time I was thinking like that. It happened so much it became an unnoticed habit. What a blessing I experienced by growing up around Ballard Parsons. I am sure I speak for a whole lot of other people too.

iPhone Baby

I have had the Wordpress App on my iPhone forever now and have never attempted to create a post from it, never had come upon a reason I couldn't wait until I got to my laptop. Well partially out of boredom and curiosity I found an excuse to create a post.
I've posted about my baby girl playing with my phone, and as her geeky father, trying to find new ways to entertain her. I've even posted reviews on some of the apps I've had the most success with. Well as proof of concept, I snapped this picture of Abby playing Peekaboo Barn on my wife's iPhone while stopping at a red light. I just find it entertaining how a 1 year old can be more aware of how to use a technical device then many adults (example: my parents).
Although I'm still up in the air on how much technology is too much technology when it comes to young children, I couldn't help but share this snap shot of my bug. Father's pride I guess.

iPhones and infants

I've realized that there is a growing demand for information for apps for what I'm calling iPhone Babies. I'm in the process of testing other apps with my baby girl (but Peekaboo Barn is still the take all home run).  What I'm looking for are suggestions for apps.  What does your baby enjoy, what gets their attention?  Paid or free, doesn't matter, I'm curious to see what other magic apps are out there for us tech savvy parents.  Feel free to comment below on what apps you feel fall under the category of "Must Have".

The little things….

Last night, a Lexington Police officer was killed in the line of duty by a hit and run while he was investigating a call.  He was 27 and a father.  Its a sad and tragic story that has been on the news all morning. [news article]  Even though I had already processed the story, thought about how selfless those men and women are, swallowed the distaste for the coward of a man who did this, nothing struck me more profoundly and brought me to such soul searching until I saw this on facebook posted by Kristen Pflum, a reporter for LEX 18.

Reading this caused my heart to sink, something I even acknowledged with a comment on this status saying as much.  Its hard to believe that sometimes I do forget how much I wanted to be a Dad.  Its one of the reasons I never fought to save my first marriage, something I’ve never admitted to until now, on this rarely read blog.  We were in two different places in life, and maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted kids, I knew I did, I wanted to be a Dad so bad, to be able to feel that love, and when she said she didn’t, it changed my whole perspective, it changed everything for me in regards to her.

Then when Canaan came around, so many grey clouds and questions with that, its hard to imagine it could have been any more of a mess.  I don’t hide the fact that I regret not having the chance to be involved more when he was first born, even more so as I have watched Abby grow, but I don’t regret fighting and being determined to be a part of my son’s life.  All the times I cried and was upset, fighting and struggling with his mom, thinking that it would be easier to not be involved.  My heart would never let me do that, I might have thought it at my lowest points, but I don’t regret ever making the decisions I’ve made, I question them sure.  What little I am able to be involved in his life right now, of course I question if the little he gets to see me is actually a good thing for him or if it just confuses him and makes some things worse.  Why wouldn’t I?  He’s my son, I want the best for him, and even though it might hurt me, I want him happy, and I seriously question if I’m selfish sometimes when it comes to wanting to be his father more then I am now.  He has grown every time I’ve picked him up, he breaks my heart every time he asks when he gets to go back to his mom, or not telling me he loves me, or cries when I come to pick him up, but I would never change the fact that I’m his father.  I never for even a moment not want to be his Daddy.

And even though he’s my first, and I have Katlyn, who for someone that doesn’t share an ounce of blood with me will end up being like me more then my two biological kids, and challenges me as a parent and a person everyday, and I love her with everything in me, my heart is with my Bug.  I have 3 kids, and I’ve only got to be around 1 during their first year, to watch them grow, get teeth, try to walk to say Daddy, to yell DaDa, to just mumble it, partially because that’s all she can say.  To hear them cry and laugh to watch her struggle with something new, and see the determination in her beautiful blue eyes.  She has been everything I wanted and looked forward to in regards to being a parent.  And if anyone that reads this, thinks I’m putting Canaan and Katlyn down, or saying they’re less of anything, I’m not.  I’d do anything for any of my kids.  My kids are my heart and my life.  I would probably surprise people how many times a week I sit and wonder if I’m doing the right thing, if I’m a good or a bad parent.  I have a lot of alone time, a lot of driving, and they’re always a constant thought.  Wondering how I can connect more with Katlyn as she gets older and I more and more become “Dad”.  How I can connect more with Canaan in terms of father and son, something I feel I fail at because of what little time I have.  They’re both a challenge and heartbreak for me because I do feel I let them down.  Abby is just the better reminder of why I wanted to be a parent, why I looked forward to it and what makes me so determined to be a good parent, a good man and roll model for all three.  I’d do anything for them, and even though I have to get onto them, and their behavior drives me insane at times, I cherish ever single second and already wish I would rewind time, or free time in a single moment.  I feel guilty losing sight of that.  With all the stress and rushing that life gives me I could say its easy for me to forget the little things, but that’s shameful to when its the little things that drive me.  That get me to strive to be a better man.  To be someone they would be proud to call Dad.  The little things that are the most important in life are the same that are so easily taken for granted.  Little moments in their life as they grow, the joy in just one of their cheese tooth filled or joyful 3 tooth smiles, the satisfaction of accomplishing one of your life goals…and like being able to come home to the love of your children…

If you can’t tell by the rambling, my children are my life and soul.  Everything I’ve ever done and will ever do, is and will forever be for and about them.  I hate that such a horrible tragedy brought to light how selfish and unappreciative I’ve been of the little things lately.  I hate that a son will now grow up without his Dad because his Dad had it in him to be a great man.  I hate that a father won’t be able to throw a ball to his boy, or to be in the stand for his son to see as he stands out in a ball field.  To carry him on his shoulders, or to be there as a “man” the first time a girl breaks his heart.

In all the politics, stress, debt and struggle we go through as adults in everyday life, its scary we forget to cherish the little things that keep us going.  Something Brayden will never have to struggle with.

God Bless Bryan Durman.

2 of my “little things” after dropping off their big sister at school.  4/30/10

The little things….

Last night, a Lexington Police officer was killed in the line of duty by a hit and run while he was investigating a call.  He was 27 and a father.  Its a sad and tragic story that has been on the news all morning. [news article]  Even though I had already processed the story, thought about how selfless those men and women are, swallowed the distaste for the coward of a man who did this, nothing struck me more profoundly and brought me to such soul searching until I saw this on facebook posted by Kristen Pflum, a reporter for LEX 18.

Reading this caused my heart to sink, something I even acknowledged with a comment on this status saying as much.  Its hard to believe that sometimes I do forget how much I wanted to be a Dad.  Its one of the reasons I never fought to save my first marriage, something I’ve never admitted to until now, on this rarely read blog.  We were in two different places in life, and maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted kids, I knew I did, I wanted to be a Dad so bad, to be able to feel that love, and when she said she didn’t, it changed my whole perspective, it changed everything for me in regards to her.

Then when Canaan came around, so many grey clouds and questions with that, its hard to imagine it could have been any more of a mess.  I don’t hide the fact that I regret not having the chance to be involved more when he was first born, even more so as I have watched Abby grow, but I don’t regret fighting and being determined to be a part of my son’s life.  All the times I cried and was upset, fighting and struggling with his mom, thinking that it would be easier to not be involved.  My heart would never let me do that, I might have thought it at my lowest points, but I don’t regret ever making the decisions I’ve made, I question them sure.  What little I am able to be involved in his life right now, of course I question if the little he gets to see me is actually a good thing for him or if it just confuses him and makes some things worse.  Why wouldn’t I?  He’s my son, I want the best for him, and even though it might hurt me, I want him happy, and I seriously question if I’m selfish sometimes when it comes to wanting to be his father more then I am now.  He has grown every time I’ve picked him up, he breaks my heart every time he asks when he gets to go back to his mom, or not telling me he loves me, or cries when I come to pick him up, but I would never change the fact that I’m his father.  I never for even a moment not want to be his Daddy.

And even though he’s my first, and I have Katlyn, who for someone that doesn’t share an ounce of blood with me will end up being like me more then my two biological kids, and challenges me as a parent and a person everyday, and I love her with everything in me, my heart is with my Bug.  I have 3 kids, and I’ve only got to be around 1 during their first year, to watch them grow, get teeth, try to walk to say Daddy, to yell DaDa, to just mumble it, partially because that’s all she can say.  To hear them cry and laugh to watch her struggle with something new, and see the determination in her beautiful blue eyes.  She has been everything I wanted and looked forward to in regards to being a parent.  And if anyone that reads this, thinks I’m putting Canaan and Katlyn down, or saying they’re less of anything, I’m not.  I’d do anything for any of my kids.  My kids are my heart and my life.  I would probably surprise people how many times a week I sit and wonder if I’m doing the right thing, if I’m a good or a bad parent.  I have a lot of alone time, a lot of driving, and they’re always a constant thought.  Wondering how I can connect more with Katlyn as she gets older and I more and more become “Dad”.  How I can connect more with Canaan in terms of father and son, something I feel I fail at because of what little time I have.  They’re both a challenge and heartbreak for me because I do feel I let them down.  Abby is just the better reminder of why I wanted to be a parent, why I looked forward to it and what makes me so determined to be a good parent, a good man and roll model for all three.  I’d do anything for them, and even though I have to get onto them, and their behavior drives me insane at times, I cherish ever single second and already wish I would rewind time, or free time in a single moment.  I feel guilty losing sight of that.  With all the stress and rushing that life gives me I could say its easy for me to forget the little things, but that’s shameful to when its the little things that drive me.  That get me to strive to be a better man.  To be someone they would be proud to call Dad.  The little things that are the most important in life are the same that are so easily taken for granted.  Little moments in their life as they grow, the joy in just one of their cheese tooth filled or joyful 3 tooth smiles, the satisfaction of accomplishing one of your life goals…and like being able to come home to the love of your children…

If you can’t tell by the rambling, my children are my life and soul.  Everything I’ve ever done and will ever do, is and will forever be for and about them.  I hate that such a horrible tragedy brought to light how selfish and unappreciative I’ve been of the little things lately.  I hate that a son will now grow up without his Dad because his Dad had it in him to be a great man.  I hate that a father won’t be able to throw a ball to his boy, or to be in the stand for his son to see as he stands out in a ball field.  To carry him on his shoulders, or to be there as a “man” the first time a girl breaks his heart.

In all the politics, stress, debt and struggle we go through as adults in everyday life, its scary we forget to cherish the little things that keep us going.  Something Brayden will never have to struggle with.

God Bless Bryan Durman.

2 of my “little things” after dropping off their big sister at school.  4/30/10

A geek as a father….undermining the imagination?

With the weather finally starting to warm up, and thinking back to how the kids were last year, I’m beginning to wonder if I do more damage then good.  I’ll admit that I enjoy electronic toys, if I had more money I’d probably have more, heck I’m even considering getting an iPad, and its partially just for me to have, and another part, I think of how my kids could play with it and entertain them, and I seriously sit and question if that’s good or not.

I remember when I was a kid, when it warmed up, I’d go just walking around the woods, building forts, or just finding random things to do that would keep me busy until I was yelled for.  I remember always wanting to go play in the creek, building dams with rocks, or thinking and considering going back into the cave at Granny’s. (Something I have yet to do, but at 29 still considering it this summer).  I wonder if being as technology obsessed as I can be has rubbed off on them in a bad way.  I just don’t see the happiness or imagination in their eyes like I felt that I had.  It takes effort to get them to go outside and play, but even then, its standardized.  They aren’t using their imagination.  You ask them to play a certain way, or play like their doing something and they have a blank stair.  Their imagination is more like a trained muscle now, only knowing movements that its grown accustomed to.  If it doesn’t involve the Wii, or the Leapster, or something on TV, it just seems like they draw a blank.  The joys of imagining being a superhero turtle, or drawing your latest crazy space monster, or pretending that you’re building a fort to protect yourself from the invading army, all that has faded away it seems.  That don’t have that.

I mean sure, the argument could be made that its good that they have a chance to be associated with all this technology.  That it will benefit them down the road, as they get older and become more dependent on technology, but where do you draw the line to separate it being beneficial, and being harmful?  I see my little girl, playing with her Little People, and you can see, even at 10 months, her imagination is starting to fire up, while at 3 1/2, my son’s imagination is a spark, barely able to break past things he has already experienced or seen on TV, and at 8, Katlyn’s seems to be more that trained muscle, only having an imagination that is limited to things she’s already associated with, never being able to break outside the box.

As parents, you always want to give your children a happier childhood then you had, but having more isn’t always better.  I just feel that the numbing and the watering down of their imaginations is a harmful side effect of having a Dad that is a tech geek, and its something I feel is hurting them now rather then benefitting them.  I just hope I can find a way to rectify it, without causing more harm.