Walkie Talkies

I love Target. I cannot go very often because it’s so tempting. Upon entering I always have to tell myself, ‘stick to your list. stick to your list.’ Sometimes I’m really good at it.. others, when I don't really have a list, not so much. One thing that always interests me at Target is their customer assistance. They have those walkie-talkies that are always BLARING that say, “Customer assistance needed in electronics. Who is responding?” I wish I had those walkie-talkies at home. For example, it would be so great to have one when I’m upstairs feeding Presley and I hear Piper and Brooks downstairs ripping each others eyeballs out. I could just get on my little walkie-talkie and announce (in that same tone you hear at Target), “Parental assistance needed in the living room. Who is responding?” Ok so Craig would never in a million years go for it. But it makes sense. Maybe Craig doesn't know that I'm upstairs feeding Presley. Maybe he's waiting for me to 'respond' and I'm thinking surely he knows I can't 'respond' because I'm feeding the baby. Then I wouldn't have to yell, "Craig, can you see what's going on in there?!" I can just calmly pick up my walkie talkie and address the situation. Hum, I think I'm on to something. I think I'll start making my next list for Target now.

Plastic Bubble

Sweet little Miss Fussy Pants has a cold. Her cough sounds like it should be coming out of a grown man it sounds so bad. She also has green goop coming out of her eyes. Poor thing. You can tell she feels terrible. She cries even more now, if that's possible. She was completely out of the swing (that's the only thing she would sleep in for months) sleeping ever so contently in her bassinet but those days are gone. At least for now. She's back in the swing so she can sleep at an elevated position. I refuse to turn it on however, so she doesn't get used to that constant motion again. She just sits there in her little swing all swaddled up completely stationary. Sometimes after I put her in it I swear she looks at me and says, 'are you going to turn the thing on or what?' I think Craig heard her say it last night too. He caved and turned it on for her. Yesterday we were visiting with a dear friend and she asked Piper what Presley likes to do. Piper's reply, "she likes to cry." Especially now. With that manly cough and green eye goop. I'm trying to think back as to how she could've gotten sick. Maggie had a cough recently and I caught her putting her sippy cup in Presley's mouth (no one can fault her for wanting to share!). It was one of those slow motion moments like.. is she really going to do it.. is she really going to put her sippy cup in her mouth.. surely not.. yep, she did it. But I have learned that unless you're willing to put your child in a bubble (which I have strongly considered), it's impossible to keep them from germs. Either the germs will find them or they will find the germs. Piper was especially good at finding germs. When Piper was a 'crawler' we were at the airport and she pulled a piece of gum from under a seat and started chewing it. I had to fish it out of her mouth. GAG. On the same trip I caught her teething on the doorstop in our condo. We were in Mexico of all places. I flipped. I'm a bit of a germ freak but I think that would make even a 'normal' mom flip out. I've tried to be especially cautious with Presley since she was in the NICU for ten days after she was born. When we got her home from the hospital we literally kept her quarantined in our room for six weeks. You could not visit her unless you had on a face mask. I'm thinking about going back to the face mask requirement. This time maybe I'll add rubber gloves too. Or maybe I'll look into that plastic bubble again.

Lipstick & Sushi Pink Eyeshadow

All I wanted was some lipstick. It has been at least a year since I've been in a department store. Oh, that sounds terrible. Since I decided to stay home with my kids I don't shop like I used to. Not to mention I've basically been pregnant for the past four years and haven't been able to wear 'normal' clothes. But I'm starting to get restless. I NEED to look cute again. It's only been four months since I had Presley so I'm not down to my ideal weight. Therefore I'm not ready to blow out the bank on a ton of new clothes quite yet. But I thought I would just go look. Check out the latest fashions.. and I desperately needed some new lipstick. So I walk into Dillard's. Granted, Dillard's is not Nordie's but it'll do. The second I stepped foot in the store I could feel myself come alive. The lights, the music, the clothes, the purses, the shoes, the accessories. Wow. It's been waaay to long. I wasn't sure which direction to head first. Lipstick, I reminded myself. I walk up to the Mac counter and ask the salesperson what the color is 'in' right now. I am so not 'in' right now. She steered me towards this really pretty peach. I liked it. So then I thought, 'well, I really need some Studio Fix (a very light foundation).' So she put a little on me and told me she wouldn't recommend it because my face needed 'more life'. Hum, ok. I can be flexible. Then I saw this really cute girl buying some really fun shimmery blush. Oh, I need that too. So I thought, ya know, I have had the exact same makeup since 1999. I am so not joking. I've been wearing the SAME makeup that I bought at the Mac store since 1999. I remember the day vividly. So I got a little carried away. I bought lipstick, three different eye shadows (one was sushi pink - love the name!), blush, brushes, a new foundation that makes me 'glow' and a product to wear under the foundation. As she was ringing up box after box, I was a little worried about the cost. I had a little number in my head. Please don't be over 'x' amount. Oops. It was nearly double the 'x' amount. I'm trying to justify this in my head right now (or at least preparing myself so I can justify it to my husband). I've had the same makeup since 1999. I am so not fashion forward right now. I have very few clothes. In fact, one of my dearest friends just held some clothes for me at TJ Maxx.. she promised it wasn't because I wear the same thing nearly everyday.. but I can't help but think it had something to do with it. I guess I don't really need all that makeup. I will probably take a few things back. But I'm keeping the sushi pink eye shadow. And, I really need to glow so I've got to keep that foundation.. and the product that goes under it helps it stay on longer so really I'm saving money by keeping it. Of course I've got to have that shimmery blush (that girl who was looking at it really was adorable). And I absolutely need lipstick.

Rock Star Parking

I took Miss Fussy Pants with me to Sam's Club this afternoon. Not a good idea. When we pulled into the parking lot I thought it was going to be the greatest trip ever because I got the best parking spot in the world. It was total rock star parking. That always makes me think I'm going to have a good experience somewhere. If I can get the best parking spot, I just know it's destined to be a good trip. Well, my theory could not have been more wrong. When we walked in the store (Presley was in her car seat which was in the cart) she started fussing. I was thinking, this could go either way. Either she'll fall asleep and I could stay here all night if needed, or she'll scream bloody murder and I will be sprinting through the store. The latter happened. I was literally running through the store grabbing things and throwing them in my cart. I got all the way to the check out counter and realized I forgot diapers. The whole reason I came to Sam's. The diapers are at the opposite end of the store. As I'm sprinting back to get them, something gets lodged in the wheel of the shopping cart. I try moving it forwards, backwards - whatever it was, it wasn't coming out. In fact, the right front wheel was barely moving. So this forces me to basically bend half way over to push my cart. So there I was. My child was screaming and I was bending half way over pushing my lovely cart as fast as I could. In addition, I'm sure I had a frantic look on my face. We were certainly quite the pair. As I'm rushing, I bump into someone I know. Go figure. I did my best to look as happy and friendly as ever. 'Would love to talk,' I say, 'but my child is freaking out!' I'm sure she was thankful not to be seen with me at that point. We get to the check out line and of course there are a million people there. So finally it's our turn. One of the things I threw in my cart was a display for a book of stamps. Buying stamps at Sam's is a pain. They have to get on their walkie-talkies and page the manager who then has to drop what he/she is doing and bring the stamps to you. Well, given the situation I specifically ask the check-out guy whether it's going to take long to get the stamps. 'No.' He says, 'he'll have them right away.' Wrong. The manager guy is on the phone chatting up a storm. All the while Presley is still screaming and people are staring. Some with looks of compassion. Others, who are clearly baby-haters, look like they are so annoyed. It felt like Presley and I were on center stage and every eyeball in the place was dead set on us. Finally the manager gets off the phone and saunters over to us. I'm thinking, 'Seriously. Pick up the pace. It's obvious we have a situation over here.' A year later we get the stamps and we're outta there. And thank goodness for the fabulous parking spot. We get into the car and race out of the parking lot. Presley fell asleep rather quickly so I decided to take my chances and grab dinner at Chipotle. Once again, rock star parking spot wide open. Are you kidding me? This can't be happening. I couldn't pass it up. This time, my theory held true. Not a peep out of her. Whew. I love rock star parking.

On a Good Note

Today is one of those days when you think, what else can go wrong? It started with the fact that I didn't have time to shower this morning. I'm not one of those people who can get away with not showering. It's just something that is required of me. So first of all, I'm disgusting. And I feel disgusting. Secondly, my mini-van had a flat tire. I discovered this as I'm rushing around trying to get everyone dressed, fed and loaded in the car so Piper can make it to her final day of gymnastics/dance camp. I really wanted her to be on time because they were performing in a few hours and she had A LOT of polishing to do. But, it was obvious that wasn't going to happen. Fortunately, my brother-in-law showed up right after I noticed the flat. His first words, 'you're not going anywhere with that thing.' Thanks for stating the obvious and so not what I wanted to hear. But, I knew he wouldn't let me down in my time of need. He agreed to change it. He did it in record time. He's a huge racing fan. Maybe he was pretending to be in the pit or something. Anyway, God love him, he did it. As I was looking at the spare tire on my mini-van, I was thinking.. 'This can't be right. This tire cannot go on this van. It is way too small.' It looked like a tire from a golf cart. Once I got the kids loaded in the car, it felt like we were all tilted to one side. I found myself leaning to the opposite side like you do on a sailboat to prevent it from going over. Fortunately, we weren't terribly late. When we got home, I decided it was time to vacuum the basement. A very rare occurrence. As I'm down there, I notice a section of our carpet is saturated with water. What?!?! It wasn't coming in from the window.. the wall felt dry. It's like coming from the ground up or something. This is very troublesome considering it hasn't rained in about a week and the ground is bone dry. Not good. We have someone coming to look at it tomorrow. He'll also be checking to see why the bathroom ceiling that we just spent lots of money on to have repaired now has water damage and looks like it could fall in at any second. Ugh. Tonight as I was making dinner, I completely burned the beef tenderloin. They looked like little balls of coal. I tried cutting the burned edges off which left us each with like four or five bites of meat. Piper informed me that she didn't like this cow. I told her to dunk it a bunch in ketchup. I think we went through nearly an entire bottle. But with every dark cloud, there's a silver lining. My mother just informed me that she's in a band. That's by far the funniest thing I've ever heard. She is actually playing the clarinet in a band (thankfully she's not singing). She's performing in a free concert tonight in the park. I cannot wait. So it looks like my not-so-good day will end on a good 'note'.

Have Fun with Your Challenge

I have four kids with me each morning. Piper (nearly 4), Brooks and Maggie (both turned 2 recently) and Presley. The 'older' three are actually pretty good when we go places. They listen really well when I tell them to get out of the street because they're about to get hit by a car. They're not terribly loud. They're usually willing to help me. They respond really well to bribes. If I can put Presley in the Baby Bjorn she's usually pretty content. I think she likes the constant motion, the sound of my voice and the direct contact. Despite how good they are, without fail, people always feel the need to make a comment about me and my team of bandits. Yesterday for example. I was outside playing with the kids at my parents house and some random lady walks by and yells, 'looks like you've got your hands full!' Instantly I was so annoyed. Ok, I realize I sound a little sensitive. But there's not a day that goes by that someone doesn't say that to me. Not sure why it irritates me so much, it just does. Especially when my kids are being angel children. Today someone said something that really caught me off guard. We were playing at this really fun playground and I noticed this woman who appeared to be with her daughter and grandson. She looked like a nun without the nun clothes (ok, I'm not Catholic but I've seen the movie Nunsense). She had on a big cross necklace. Her hair was dark, short and tidy. She was dressed very conservatively. She had a very calming presence. As we were leaving, I couldn't help but smile at her. She was just so peaceful looking. You know what she said to me? In a thick European accent she goes, 'have fun with your challenge'. I was totally appalled. How could a 'Sister' be so rude? I was so upset. I was thinking, 'challenge, what challenge? My kids are being so good right now.' Here I thought this woman was so nice and peaceful. I was totally irritated. We get into the car a few moments later and Brooks has the biggest meltdown ever. Screaming that his shoe fell off, that his sticker was gone.. on and on. And I thought back to what that woman said. Have fun with your challenge. Ya know, she was right. And her timing was perfect. Raising three children is a challenge. A challenge that I absolutely love (most days), but certainly a challenge. I had various other 'challenges' this morning but I kept thinking about what that woman said. Have fun with your challenge. Have fun with your challenge. Have fun with your challenge. So when things got a little hairy this morning, I didn't get frustrated. I just kept thinking.. have fun with this. My kids are only this little once. We only get one shot at it. Have fun with it. Thanks Sister.

The Good Samaritan(s)

When Presley first developed colic, I almost tried to keep it a secret.  I didn't want people to know how terrible things were.. how bad it really was.. how desperate I felt.  'Everything's great' I would say.  'She's a little fussy, but other than that.. absolutely perfect!'  We're perfect, our kids are perfect, life is perfect.  Whatever!  I'm not sure if I was living in denial or fantasy land.  But the truth is, it's been hard.  Harder than hard actually.  I think this experience has really given me a heart for people with difficult children.  Babies especially.  It's easy to think it's the parents fault.  They're too uptight.  They're too strict.  They don't do this.  They need to do that.  Well, I'm living proof that sometimes people just have fussy babies.  Period.  Our first child was a dream boat.  No problems.  We haven't done anything differently now.  Some babies are just fussy.  And it's hard.  One of the most difficult things about having a colic child is going places.  Craig and I love our church.  It's a very relaxed environment filled with loving people who are trying to live their lives more like Jesus.  But, we haven't been able to go as frequently since Presley was born.  Presley screams and sweet little Brooksie has developed separation anxiety and flips out every time we walk in the building.  Two kids screaming their heads off.. we're quite the spectacle!  But today at church some Good Samaritans jumped in to help.  Presley hopped from lap to lap.  My mom took over, my sister offered to help, a wonderful lady (she was one of my nurses at the hospital) held her.  And the nursery coordinator offered to personally take care of Brooks.  It was awesome.  I felt so blessed.  It's so discouraging knowing you can't go to the one place you want to go for encouragement.  So thank you to all of those Good Samaritans.  You have blessed us more than you know.  BTW, are you free later?  :)

The Swinger

Little Miss Fussy Pants loves her swing. She will not sleep anywhere else. We have the routine down to a science. I swaddle her in her 'miracle blanket', tell her I love her (but there's not a lot of time to chat due to the fact that she's usually screaming bloody murder), give her a kiss, put her in the swing, strap her in, turn the thing on full speed, dash to the CD player and turn on the white noise pretty loud (yes, I am afraid she'll go deaf but Craig assures me she'll be fine). It takes approximately 12 seconds for the CD player to turn on after I hit play. I have to count because otherwise it seems like an eternity with her screaming. Then last night something happened. When I was done nursing her around 3:00 a.m. she was totally out. Like out, out. I have no idea what came over me. I saw the bassinet from across the room and I went for it. I quickly, yet carefully walked across the bedroom all the while thinking, 'what am I doing? am I crazy? will this actually work?'. And then I slowly, slowly, slowly placed her ever so carefully in the bassinet. I quickly put the ginger bread cookie man on her tummy (a dear friend let us borrow it.. said it helped her colic child), held my breath and literally tip-toed to bed. I could hear her rustling in the bassinet. 'Oh no, it's over' I thought. So I closed my eyes really tight and started repeating, 'Please God let her sleep. Please God let her sleep.' Over and over again. It worked. The Lord heard me. I didn't think she would last more than three minutes. But I was wrong. She slept a full three hours in her bassinet. That's huge for us. Craig and I were both stunned. Shocked. Blown away. I went for a run this morning (my mental health break) and she got fussy. Craig went for it too. He put her down in the bassinet. No 'miracle blanket', no ginger bread cookie man. He went cold turkey on her (ok, he did turn on the white noise). And again, she slept. Craig and I were in such disbelief neither one of us could talk about it. But I had to break the ice. I had to understand what was happening here. My voice shaking a bit due to the fact I was still so stunned I asked Craig, 'how did you do it? how did you get her to sleep like that?' So very methodically, very precisely, he told me the story of how it happened. I hung on every word. I didn't want to miss a beat. Could our child actually be ready to sleep without the constant motion of the swing? Well, not quite. Her afternoon nap didn't go so smooth. I caved and put her in the swing. But tonight I gave it another shot. Again, no 'miracle blanket', no ginger bread cookie man, nothing. I put her in her bassinet and walked out of the room. She cried. Hard. So I went in and went through the process of swaddling her, kissing her, and just as I was about to put her in the swing I did a u-turn and headed for the bassinet. I just simply put her in there. Held my breath. And she was fine. May I repeat, she was fine. I have no idea what's going on here. I don't know if this is just a good day or what. But today, today was a really a good day. Finally.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

When your child has colic, you will do about anything to sooth him or her.  The intensity of the screaming, the inability to calm your child, the length it draws on.. it's all so frustrating and difficult.  You scour the internet hoping to find a cure.  You walk up and down the aisles of Walgreens praying you'll see something that might work.  You plead with God.  You plead with your child.  You take your child to the doctor.  If you're nursing you think, 'maybe it's me'.  So you go to the doctor.  You go to the breast feeding clinic.  You stop eating this, start eating that, try different nursing positions.  You try natural herbs and remedies.  You hear success stories about taking your child to the chiropractor.  So you try it.  If someone told you they heard standing on your head singing the national anthem backwards worked, you would do it.  You are that desperate.  We've tried organic gripe water.  We've tried Mylecon.  We've tried giving them together.  We've tried them separate.  I can honestly say we've tried everything.  Nothing has worked.  We've read it goes away at three months.  Presley is now almost four months.  And still -- no relief.  The one thing that has worked, laughter.  My husband, Craig and I try to laugh about it as much as possible.  As much as our nerves will allow anyway.  We try singing over it.  We try pretending it's super quiet in the car, for example, when really she's screaming her head off.  We know we'll get through it.  We know the days will soon be easier.  The nights will be calmer.  Brooks went through it, we survived.  We are colic survivors.  One day we'll be able to print t-shirts that say, 'I survived colic'.  And all of those parents out there with colicky children will be able to relate.  Perhaps even get a good laugh.  And maybe even want a t-shirt too.            

Bodily Fluids

So.. being a mom of three (and one child with colic, let us not forget!) is demanding to say the least. But when you add barf and diarrhea into the mix, things get really interesting. We currently have the stomach flu going through our house. It started with my sweet little niece Maggie last week (she's two and I watch her in the morning). As she was throwing up all over our leather couch and carpet, Fussy Pants starts screaming and then the oven timer went off signifying our pizza was ready. You have got to be kidding me. Somehow I simultaneously carried Maggie outside to continue barfing (not sure why I didn't go to the bathroom), flung the pizza out of the oven (it was cooked perfectly, thank you) and sprinted up the stairs to turn on the white noise CD (aka chainsaw) for Presley. That was only the beginning. About two days ago, my two year old son Brooks got it. Just as I'm going to bed thinking to myself, 'I've lived through another day', the poor guy wakes up vomiting. So, what's a mom to do. Of course I have to comfort him during his time of need.. he's scared to death, crying my name and puking all at the same time. I put a towel down on the train table in his room and while I was holding him I was literally doing a back bend so he could puke over my shoulder and onto the train table (again, not quite sure why I didn't rush to the bathroom). Yesterday, Piper (my nearly four year old) sees a ginger snap cookie on the table. It was a cookie that Brooks had licked only moments before and decided he did not want. Unbeknown to her (she saw a cookie and went for it), she took a bite. Unfortunately, I did not see this go down until she was almost done with it. I knew that contaminated cookie would claim yet another child in my house. Sure enough, this morning, Piper starts throwing up all over her bed, her stuffed animals... you get the picture. I pray, pray, pray that little Presley does not get it. Poor thing. That's the last thing she needs. It's the last thing we all need. Bodily fluids are so gross.

Me and My Little Fussy Pants

Hi, my name is Jamie and my daughter has colic. I feel like Presley screaming all day is defining me at this point in my life. It seems like every conversation I have in someway leads to my daughter screaming. If someone compliments me on my hair.. I always bring it back to 'oh thanks, my daughter has colic and fixing my hair is very rare these days.' Or if someone compliments my shirt.. 'oh thanks, my daughter has colic and I actually got to run to Target to buy a new shirt.' It's totally comical when I think back on the day how I respond to people. My favorite is when she's smiling or content for a short while and someone comments on what a happy baby she is. I almost get a little panicky.. 'Oh no! She has colic! She cries most of the day!' What is that about?! It's just so all consuming, so tiring and so frustrating. I troubleshoot, I cry, I pray. The good news.. we can typically sooth Presley by swaddling her in the 'miracle blanket', strapping her in the swing (which has to be on high) and turning on some really loud white noise. We have a CD that sounds like a hairdryer for 14 minutes and is followed by rainstorm (it actually sounds more like a chainsaw and rain on a tin storage shed.. but we'll go with it). Before we found the CD, we had been running my hairdryer most of the day. I was convinced we were going to burn our house down. I will say, however I am totally amazed my hairdryer has lasted so long ($15 Walgreens -- I'll get the brand later). More to come...