Middle Child

I have five kids. Ages twenty, nineteen, seventeen, fourteen, and nine years old. My nine- year old was three months premature. The due date was April 13th, 2011 born January 15th, 2011. He was born in Albuquerque, NM. We live in Roswell, NM...3 hours away. While I and the baby were living the NICU life, my older four kiddos stayed with their dad in Roswell. Every Saturday night my brother rode up to Albuquerque to pick me up. I missed my other kiddos of course. So Sundays were established and dedicated to them. Give or take 12 Sundays all together until I could bring my baby home and be home with all of my babies.

Our Sundays were packed with family activities throughout the day that probably normally was spread throughout the week. It would be 2 or 3 am by the time we get into Roswell, sometimes later. Sleeping a couple of hours in my bed. Getting up to messages from the kiddos if I was on my way to get them yet. Most of the time already there at their dad's before the messages started. Hugs and kisses and everyone talking at once.

Pictures being exchanged. Ones they drew for their brother and me to hang up in his little area in the NICU. Showing pictures of him finally being extubated. (breathing tube removed from his throat, 57 days altogether). His first bottle he drank. The little outfits that I could dress him in because he was only on the cannula tubes. the oxygen tubes that go in the nostrils.

After catching up they would all be in their comfort areas or rooms in our house while I started a week's worth of cleaning and dishes, the to-do list. Laundry, shower and still fighting the kiddos in talking one at a time so I can hear every one of their stories. Sitting outside on the porch paying bills, balancing my checkbook. I had to keep up with our home in Roswell so we had one to come home to. My brother lived with us but with the situation at the time, he was a single guy living in our home. A bachelor pad, part-time. he had his job and a roof over his head. Not much more he needed much less to take care of. Well, maybe his beer and cigarettes.

Writing my list for the store, the determining factor of Wal Mart being fun or not. Not really, I mean kiddos will be kiddos. No matter how much my heart was broken from having to live temporarily like this we made the best of it. I was reassuring them I would have done the same for any one of them if it was needed. also, how much easier the transition will be when he does come home because he knows who Momma was, it not being a NICU nurse.

So being that my brother lived with us, the kiddos were close to him and him to them as well. Anxious to see him and tell him all their stories also Sundays were one of the jamming days. He was the lead guitarist in a metal band. He started the band. they had practice pretty often and we would go to them here and there beforehand. Wal Mart checked off the list, bills paid, or dropped in their perspective mail slots. Menu for dinner complete and started we were to the band practice. Other members of the band having children the kiddos had a play date, two birds with one stone.

We were hanging out and (during this time they were eleven, ten, eight, five and in the NICU) my eight years old turns to me and says, "Mom, you know I'm the middle child now, right?" Me, thinking about it, "Yes I do believe you are." She holds her hand up in the air, in front of my face. Fingers stretched out and wiggling around and say, " You have Nick, Valerie..." as she says each sibling's names one by one she puts a finger down. "Nick," pinky finger down. "Valerie," thumb down. "Marygrace," ring finger down. "John," pointy finger falls, and with one left she says, "and then you have me!" smiling as she holds her last finger in the air right in front of my face, the middle finger. Everybody laughing and then realizing what she had done. Looking at- her smiling I replied, "That's my girl!"

That is and always will be one of the favorite "my kiddo" stories. I have managed to get a few tattoos throughout the period. One that I have on my leg I did myself. It is a day of the dead momma with a rose. Five kiddos at her feet, each one personalized to their talents or skill.