Letter to a NICU Dad
Dear NICU dad,
What you’re going through is difficult. Your baby or babies are likely hanging by what seems like a thread at the moment, and your partner, the one who gave birth to that fragile being may seem also to be hanging by a thread emotionally. Your role in this journey that is the NICU is vitally important, so don’t think it’s not.
It may feel like there’s next to nothing you can do for your new addition and for your partner, but that’s not true, not true at all.
Help your partner get to and from the hospital and to be as prepared as possible for your days there. Pack snacks, a water bottle, headphones, a notebook, pens and pencils, and make sure the bag is packed each morning before you leave the house. If you can, drive her back and forth from the hospital, drop her off at the front when she’s recovering from her c-section or vaginal birth that was likely difficult or complicated if you find yourself in the NICU. It’s the little things like that that make a difference.
In the evenings, make sure your partner has everything she needs for the night. Make sure her breast pump parts are clean and ready to go, make sure labels and bottles are prepared.
If you can, be present at the hospital when she is. The NICU, despite all the hustle and bustle, can be a very lonely place. It’s nice to have company, even if you just sit silently and listen to the ever so stressful constant beeping of monitors.
Participate in your child’s care. Jump right in there and change diapers, learn how to give your little one a bath, bottle feed your little one if it’s permitted. Knowing that when take the baby home, someone else is well trained to care for the baby is a huge weight off the shoulders of any mom, and especially the NICU mom, who knows all to well how fragile her little one can be.
Do as much kangaroo care as you can! You and your baby will benefit from skin to skin contact. They will relax and breathe deeper, and you will be able to bond with them.
Help manage NICU visitors. It can be very stressful to have friends and family who want to meet your baby when they are in the NICU. Make sure your partner is not the only point of communication for your visitors.
Make sure your partner knows that she doesn’t need to spend every hour of every day in the NICU, and that life must go on. Help her understand that your baby is receiving the best possible care and that this phase will end. Make sure she eats, takes naps, and has a few moments to herself. Make sure she also knows that it’s OK if she cries and breaks down. Being a NICU mom is not easy.
Keep a sense of humor if at all possible. A laugh here and there can really help the time pass and a little silliness is good for everyone!
NICU dad, your role is incredibly important and your family is lucky to have you.
This too, shall pass.
– Alden, wife of one of the best NICU dad’s around!
The Best Place
When my parents decided they were ready to sell a part of the Brush Ranch property a few years back and they decided to keep the 12 acres they ended up on for the last 7 or 8 years, I initially thought they were crazy. At the time, in my mind, it would have made much more sense to keep the north end of the property which was much more secluded and wooded, aside from the large meadow at Timberland. Or even the south end of the property with all the cabins, though I did realize that would be quite a bit to keep up. The thought never crossed my mind that the 12 acres in the center were what they would want to keep.
This particular 12 acres went from the back of cabin #1 on the south end of the property, to the north side of the barn. It also included a giant riding arena and the horse “pasture.” (Not a pasture at all, just a place where horses had been feeding and pooping for 30 or 40 years. Yum) There was a classroom building that was built in 1994 that was nothing spectacular, and a giant warehouse type building that was used for recreation (think elementary school gym). The Pecos river was the west border of the property and to the east the property backed up to the national forest.
Again, when my parents told me that was the bit of the property they were keeping, I thought they were crazy. Well, most of me thought they were crazy, except a tiny part of me that had some spectacular memories from that part of the property. I’m not talking about the horseback riding or even the river wading, I’m talking about the cargo net. Yes, the cargo net. This particular part of the forest near the river was especially overgrown and sheltered by giant cottonwoods that cast dappled sunlight throughout the day on the underbrush far below. The wild roses grew thick and tall and hanging from the tree branches was a giant army cargo net, it was the perfect get away, almost too hidden to find sometimes.
I have no idea where it came from or how long it hung there, I don’t remember when it was taken down. What I do remember is loving each time I found the path leading off of the larger, more used path by the river, that cut into the trees and led to the rope ladder that hung down from the giant spider web hammock. I don’t remember the views being particularly good, or it even being all that comfortable, I just remember it being somewhat of a secret and loving the way the sunlight danced through the trees. I don’t have any specific memories in the cargo net, or even anything particularly interesting to share, just that I loved that spot, and when mom and dad said they were keeping that 12 acres and I thought about it for a while, I was thrilled.
They transformed the 12 acres into an amazing and special place. They removed most of the wild rose bushes, creating a grassy meadow beneath the cottonwoods, removed the riding arena and pasture, and remodeled the classroom and barn into amazing places to live (the classroom) and have parties (the barn)…and work some too.
My favorite place on that property is still the spot near where the cargo net hung, though it was gone long, long before Brush Ranch closed. My brother and I were both lucky enough to get married in almost the exact spot where it hung (not to each other…obviously, that would be weird), and I will forever cherish that little spot of heaven and remember it most fondly. I am so lucky to have been able to create such amazing memories there, and I don’t think I will ever drive by that property without a little tear in my eye.
Random Thoughts from a Wednesday Evening
Our little man has decided that 4:45 is an acceptable time to wake up each morning. He starts whimpering in his bassinet a bit and we play “try to keep the pacifier in the mouth” about 4 times before I give up and put him in the bed with us (I know, terrible parenting). He then proceeds to wave his right arm (which he just recently discovered) all over the place and wag his little head back and forth. And back. And forth. And backandforthandbackandforth. Until it’s actually time to get up for the next feed time at about 6:45. He’s not upset, just wants to hang out with the big people. As a result of this, he wakes up Stella, the black dog, who comes to my side of the bed every 5 minutes or so and licks whatever part if my body happens to be exposed (shoulder, foot, arm, neck…gross, gross, gross) just to see if it’s time to get up yet. So… I’m feeling a little sleep deprived, so today, my dear readers, I’ll bless you with some random thoughts:
The Social Security office is the worst place, but whenever I have to venture out to establishments like the Social Security office I try to find some sort of silver lining. Luckily, people watching is one if my favorite things. There is some AMAZING people watching at the social security office.
- There are a lot of people wearing sandals with socks.
- I wonder why that one guy had a bag full of PVC pipe, OMG, don’t people make bombs out of that?! I’m going to assume that the toothless security guard checked him out pretty thoroughly.
- Why does the lady behind window 5 keep pulling her cell phone out of her bra?! Yeah, the lady who WORKS behind window 5…just put the phone on your desk, or in a drawer so the 106 people in the lobby don’t have to see you reaching in your shirt every few minutes.
- Flesh colored leggings don’t look good on anyone.
Next random thought:
Our poor dogs have been totally deprived since we brought the babies home. I feel pretty bad about it but can’t seem to muster the energy to do anything about it. Luckily, they are awesome at cleaning up baby vom. It’s disgusting, really, but has saved us a lot of time washing the floors.
Poor Stella gets a little eager sometimes and ends up with vom on her head. It’s gross.
Ohhhh, Patrick finished medical school last week! Thursday was his last day and it was surprisingly anticlimactic. We did round up some friends for a celebratory beer or three, but that was really it. Graduation is next weekend and I’m assuming that will be a little more exciting.
Next: I’ve never been a supporter of Starbucks. I think supporting local businesses is important and have generally thought coffee from the local shops is better too. Then I stopped eating dairy and right around the same time someone offered to bring us Starbucks. I ordered a decaf soy latte. I can’t stop drinking them!!! They use vanilla soy milk so it’s just a tiny bit sweet and they’re so light and flavorful. Yum!!! I have taste tested a few from local shops around town but so far, Starbucks is winning.
I feel pretty silly ordering this drink sometimes. The cashiers look at me like, ” Why did you even bother? No milk? No caffeine? Boring.”
And to close out today’s random thoughts, an encounter at the park:
We went on a picnic today with some of the fam to one of our favorite parks. A little ways away from us some people were setting up dog pens and then started bring boxer after boxer out of a giant vehicle. I took my niece and nephew to check it out. They had a total of 15 purebred boxers, including 4 puppies. The puppies had freshly clipped ears and I found it quite difficult to explain why to the kiddos. They were still a bit bloody and in these weird cone things…it looked like they had styrofoam cups on the tops of their heads. They were traveling from California to Indiana for the national boxer dog show. After working at an animal welfare organization, I found it a little sickening, but I do understand the value of some purebreds…but I won’t likely ever have one myself.
5 Things You SHOULD Say to Parents of Multiples
It seems as though there are a million posts out there on the interwebs about what not to say to parents of multiples. Boring. I’m sure there are other posts similar to the one I’m about to write, but that’s OK with me.
Being a parent of multiples most certainly has its ups and downs, many of which I have yet to experience since our little worms have been home less time than they were in the hospital, but I have learned a thing or two about the kind of support we need to make life a little easier and the things people can say to us to make us feel like we’re doing alright as parents.
So, here are a few things you should say to a parent of multiples:
1. You look great!
Not, “you look great for just having had two kids,” or, “you look great considering how little sleep I’m sure you’re getting.” Just plain and simple, ” you look great.” Everyone likes a compliment, and even if you’re lying, it makes us feel a little better that you might have actually noticed the mascara or the clothes that maybe aren’t covered in spit up residue for the time being.
2. Your babies/kids are beautiful.
Again, everyone likes a compliment. Lots of multiples are premmies too and people think preemies look weird (and let’s face it, they sort of do for a little while, I know mine did, though I still thought they were the most beautiful little creatures in the world). There’s nothing better than someone taking one look at your baby and seeing their smile and having them tell you that what you created, no matter how early, is beautiful.
3. You have double (or triple, or quadruple) the blessings (or fun)!
It really is pretty fun having multiples. It is not a curse and parents of multiples are lucky–their kids have a built in buddy for life!
4. I’d love to help you with the babies, can I come to your house at ___ time and ___ date.
Go ahead and propose a date and time. When people offer to help me, it takes a lot of time for me to figure out when they should or should not come, and then to get back to them with that info. It’s much easier if someone gives me a day and time and I can tell them if that will or will not work. Don’t take a lack of response from a parent of multiples as a lack of interest, it probably just means they’re busy or sleep deprived and may have forgotten to return that call or email. Get in touch again with specific availability.
5. You’re doing a great job!
Juggling multiple kids can be hard and it’s always nice when someone appreciates that and, again, a simple compliment goes a long way! You don’t have to be specific, but telling a parent of multiples they’re doing a great job is very reassuring, especially on a hard day!
I had to throw in the obligatory pic of our twins, just because.
So there you go, now you’re armed with a few little things you can say to someone with multiples next time you see them. And remember, there’s no need to feel sorry for parents of multiples, we’re just the lucky parents of more than one kid!
The Rice Family: the Early Years
As with most of my “historical” posts, I realize that every detail might not be just right, but someone recently pointed out to me that that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I’m sharing my memory of things with the world, so please excuse any blaring factual errors!
My grandparents, Kitty and Newcomb Rice started Brush Ranch in 1956, but their history before Brush Ranch is really quite a fascinating love story, almost a classic war love story, one you might see in the movies.
Newcomb was quite an accomplished ballet dancer, somehow, after having grown up in Oklahoma. He danced in New York, and my memory has decided that he actually danced on Broadway (I have no idea if that’s true, but that’s my recollection of history). He was tall and handsome with deep dimples on each cheek and had a smile you couldn’t ignore.
Kitty was petite and cute and so the story goes, she was just a young Scottish girl working as a cartographer during WWII in the British army and Newcomb was a photographer in the United States Army. They met when Newcomb would deliver photos to Kitty to create the maps. The two fell in love and when Kitty was discharged from the army, she made the trek to Oklahoma where Newcomb’s family was all by herself. Newcomb was discharged a short time later. Her family sent her with financial help and a dowry to help them get set up in America. According to family lore, Kitty’s mother was more upset than anyone about her parting, thinking she might never see Kitty again.
Kitty and Newcomb set up a ballet studio in Borger, Texas, where they taught the young girls and boys of the panhandle of Texas to point their toes and pirouette with the best of them. They taught with the likes of Rue McClanahan (and must have been quite proud of it because, to this day, I can’t watch an episode of the Golden Girls without thinking of my grandparents).
In 1956 Kitty and Newcomb purchased the Brush Ranch property from the Old family. It was previously owned by Lyle Brush, hence the name, Brush Ranch. Before Lyle owned the property it was called Irvin’s on the Pecos and Ed Irvin, a good friend of my parents, was actually born on the property and still lives in the canyon today. But I digress, Kitty and Newcomb developed Brush Ranch Camps for Girls as an arts focused residential camp. They focused on dance, drama, and music (and there was horseback riding too…see the photo below).
The original front gate at Brush Ranch
For several years, Kitty and Newcomb would spend summers in the mountains of New Mexico and winters in Borger, but eventually, I believe in about 1964, they moved full time to the Pecos Canyon. They would then spend the winters traveling around the country trying to recruit campers. They would literally go door to door selling camp! They would also host parties at the homes of campers and have everyone invite their friends and give out information and do a short presentation.
They were quite successful at running summer camp (more history of the camp here) and it amazes me to this day that the love between two people could help bring such joy and happiness to so many others throughout the years. Of course, I don’t remember any of this early history, because I didn’t exist yet, but there are plenty of things I do remember about Kitty and Newcomb.
Photo of the first campers at Brush Ranch. Kitty is front and center with the large sombrero with my dad, Scotty on her lap.
When I was a child, they spent most of their time at the North end of the Brush Ranch property, a part of the property we called Timberland, where there was a giant house with a red roof and a huge front lawn with a big hill that went down to the river. The front porch was the best spot to watch the world go by, with flowers out front and little sprigs of mint growing from cracks in the concrete stairs leading down to the lawn. In the winters, the living room fireplace was always ablaze and the house, though it was huge, seemed so cozy. The kitchen was giant and there was one counter top that was much lower than the others, I’ve often wondered if that was put in after Kitty and Newcomb moved in because it was so much more comfortable for Kitty! I remember their bedroom having red shag carpet–yuck! And their giant master bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. My favorite part of the house was the mysterious and dusty attic. I loved going up there and poking around in the dark and dust. There was old furniture, holiday decorations, old clothes, little bits of history, the occasional mouse, and lots and lots of other treasures! When the house was torn down, by dad saved some of the foundation and used it as the foundation for the driveway to their old house and used the front door as well. It was fun to see little bits of Timberland around after it had been torn down. (The demolition was sad but completely necessary, there were electrical wires that had been insulated with newspaper, and studs that never reached the ground! It’s a wonder it was still standing after all those years!)
Kitty was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and maybe that’s because she was my grandmother. She would invite anyone in for a cup of tea and cookies and she loved to hear people’s stories. She could chat with anyone for any length of time. She was genuinely interested. Her Scottish accent lured in many visitors and it would get much thicker when her Scottish relatives would come and visit. Kitty wasn’t over 5′ tall and had stocky legs and big, wide fingers. But she was absolutely beautiful, inside and out. To this very day, every time I have butter lettuce I think of her, when we were kids, she would make us steak (absolutely drenched in butter), potatoes (also drenched in butter) and salad (just butter lettuce), and to get us to eat the salad she would forego the traditional salad dressing and just sprinkle it with sugar! She was sweet to the core and loved to cook and sing and read poems. She was fascinated with the English language and had a huge dictionary that she referred to often. She enjoyed hosting parties and had more dishes and kitchen gadgets than anyone I’ve ever met. She would play dress up with us and would often let us wear her fancy fur coats and high heels. She loved to travel to New York and London and San Francisco. She made life look easy because she was so full of love and happiness.
Kitty dancing some sort of jig
Newcomb was very tall and handsome. He always had the latest gadgets (like the very first cell phone and Mac computer and a satellite dish that you could watch turn when you changed the TV channel), and was always well dressed. I remember in his later years, when he was more or less bed ridden, crawling up beside him and patiently watching golf on TV (so boring, but something he cherished). I remember he would call me his girlfriend and I thought that was just hilarious. His bright smile with deep dimples could light up a room in no time at all. I remember his always driving just a little too fast for my comfort in his giant Mercedes. He took chances and risks and was a born leader. He too loved hosting parties and partaking in festivities, and most of all he loved Kitty!
Newcomb with some of the staff in the early years. He looks to be quite the ladies man!
Newcomb passed away in 1996 and Kitty in 2001, but I see pieces of them in my dad, my brothers, myself and now my twins and I feel so lucky that World War II brought them together so many years ago. Maybe I’m just a sap, but it amazes me that what was probably a chance meeting all those years ago, grew into a great love and a story that would touch the lives of so many children over the years.
The photo at the top of this post was taken in the early 80’s and that’s my older brother in the background.
Hipster, Amish, or Poor: Make your own Yogurt
Ok, ok, I know the title of this post could be somewhat offensive. It’s not meant that way, it’s just something one of my cousins said to me after I FORCED her to try spoonful of my first ever batch of home made soy yogurt. Mmmmm, sounds tasty, right? She didn’t think so and was making fun of me for not getting in my car, going to the store, and purchasing my yogurt, soy or otherwise, like the rest of the people in the United States of Amurica.
Before I share my recipe with you, I’d like to take a moment to decide if I am hipster, Amish, or poor:
Hipster:
Luckily, the internet has a quiz for everything and I took one this morning to determine my hipster status. You see, I’m not a hipster.
Amish:
Believe it or not, there’s not a quiz (that I can find) on the internet about being Amish. That’s probably not very P.C., again, blame my cousin. She came up with it.
Luckily, I know a few things about myself that would immediately rule out my being Amish. I like to drive in cars. I like caffeine and alcohol. I did find this paragraph on a website about Amish traditions and history, which I found pretty interesting, but again, I like electricity and my current yogurt making method requires it.
The story of the Pennsylvania Amish community dates back to the 16th century Reformation in Europe, when the Anabaptist movement spurred the creation of three “plain” communities: the Amish, Mennonites and Brethren. Although these spiritual groups have similarities, the Amish are the most conservative, emphasizing humility, family, community and separation from the non-Amish world, which includes a reluctance to adopt modern conveniences such as electricity.
I am decidedly not Amish. That said, I did find some pretty amazing looking “Amish” recipes on Pinterest while dilly dallying around the interwebs while writing this post. Apparently, funnel cake is Amish, who knew?!
Poor:
Well, by process of elimination, I guess that’s it, I’m poor. But please, don’t feel sorry for me, we just don’t have a ton of cash on hand at the moment. My bank account is the only thing in my life that makes me feel “poor,” and as far as I’m concerned, money really can’t buy happiness. But it can by yogurt and I love yogurt.
Since Little Miss Neala has pretty terrible reflux, I decided to see if I could make any changes to help improve her discomfort. A few friends and family recommended I stop eating dairy, and what do you know, it actually helped! Unfortunately, I really, really love cheese and yogurt. The rest I could do without but man, not those two. (I still haven’t figured out the cheese thing) So, I started buying soy yogurt, which is EXPEN$IVE!! I needed an alternative and that’s when I stumbled upon a recipe for making soy yogurt that does not require a yogurt maker! I modified it just a bit and here’s the result (please excuse my poor quality photos, I’m not a food blogger, just a chick with an iPhone).
Non-Dairy Yogurt
Ingredients:
1 quart non-dairy milk (the first time I made it I used part coconut and part soy)
1/4 cup non-dairy yogurt (you could also purchase the probiotics to add instead of using purchased yogurt, but this is how I did it)
Supplies:
1 quart jar with lid
Instant read thermometer (this is what is recommended but I have a candy thermometer that worked well)
Medium sized pot
Wide mouth funnel (like one you’d use for canning, this is not completely necessary unless you’re like me and when you pour from pot to jar, you’re likely to lose half the contents of what was in the pot)
whisk
Make sure all of your supplies are either sterilized or VERY clean. You can sterilize in the dishwasher or in boiling water.
Pour the milk into the pot and heat over medium low heat until the thermometer reads 115º (If you go over, you can just wait for it to cool a bit. If the milk is too hot it will kill off the cultures in the yogurt.)
While the milk is heating, put the 1/4 cup yogurt in the prepared jar
Pour the heated milk (via wide mouthed funnel) into the jar and whisk to combine and make sure that the yogurt isn’t all stuck at the bottom of the jar.
Here’s the part where being Amish wouldn’t work:
My oven has a proofing setting (for making bread dough rise) and I used this setting to keep my yogurt just the right temp to culture. So, if you have a proofing setting, preheat your oven and when it’s ready to go, put the lid on your jar full of liquid, wrap the jar in a towel (not sure this is really necessary, but it made the jar look cozy, which is obviously really important), and put it in the oven. Wait about 6 hours and then check the yogurt. It should be mostly solid-ish (like store bought yogurt) and taste a little tangy. If it’s still sweet or too runny for your liking, put it back and check every 2 hours.
If your yogurt is a bit liquidy, you can strain off the liquid (whey) using cheescloth or a coffee filter.
If your oven does not have a proofing setting, this might just take a bit longer because the idea is that your liquid stays around 115º while it cultures. The first time I made it, I filled an insulated ice bucket with boiling water to heat it up, dumped it out, and then put the jar inside and covered the outside with towels. My culture took almost 24 (!!!) hours and had a lot of liquid which needed to be strained off. Basically, you’ll want to come up with a method to keep the jar as warm (without going over 115º) as possible. One blogger recommends using a cooler with a pot of boiling water on one side, jar on the other. Whatever works for you, just know that if your temp is a bit lower or gets progressively lower, it may take longer to culture. Also, I’m not a food safety expert, but I don’t imagine you’d want to go much longer than 24 hours before you call it quits and put the creamy goodness into the fridge.
So there you have it, a not very professionally written or photographed recipe for yogurt. It really is easy and it really is good. I highly recommend trying it!
If you’d like to see the original recipe (this recipe explains the cooler/boiling water method of keeping your yogurt warm), you can find it here.