Ode to The Swing

It stopped.  The swing.  It stopped (panic sets in immediately).  Maybe it's the batteries.  Quick.  Change batteries.  No, it's not the batteries.  The music works fine but the swing doesn't... swing.  What do we do?  Stay calm.  This is basically a word for word conversation between my husband and I when we discovered the swing, the swing that has allowed us to survive the past few months.. died.  Several weeks ago we thought we were done with the swing.  Presley had seemingly transitioned into her bassinet.  But we were forced to put her back in it when she caught a cold.  She needed to sleep at an elevated position.  I had originally refused to turn the swing on so she wouldn't get used to that constant motion again.  But, one thing led to another and in a few moments of weakness, we flipped the switch.  We turned it on.  Repeatedly.  She was swinging again.  How it happened, I don't know.  We were desperate I suppose.  My husband offered to drop everything to rush out to Target, Walmart, Baby's R Us.. where ever he could go to find another swing just like it.  No, I tell him.  We have to move on.  But it's not that easy.  It was our safety net.  And now it's gone.  Just ripped away.  So once again, she's sleeping swaddled in her 'miracle blanket' strapped into the swing that won't swing.  Those little eyes looking up at us, wondering whether we'll turn it on.  'Please?'  I can just hear her saying.  'Sorry my little sweetie.  The swing is broken.'  I tell her.  Maybe it's for the best.  Maybe this is what we needed.  Maybe this will force us to break all ties with the swing.  There won't be the temptation now.  There's no going back.  We're done with it.  We need to accept it.  As night falls the bassinet awaits once again.  Once again I will be forced to make that difficult decision.  Do I or don't I.  Do I have the courage to try it again.  To give it another shot.  To try the bassinet.  I suppose it's inevitable.  She can't sleep in the swing forever, right?  However, I wonder if there's a swing repair man.            

The Drug Search

Zantac.  Could this be the answer to our colic prayers?  Could sweet little Fussy Pants not in fact be colicky, but instead be inflicted with acid reflux?  It appears the answer may be 'yes'.  After talking with several other moms who have acid reflux babies, Presley's symptoms are strikingly similar.  The constant crying, inability to lay flat on her back without going berserk and all the spit ups.  She spits up so much somedays it's like she has the stomach flu.  It's just like a jet stream pouring out of her mouth.  It's so bad on certain days that it reminds me of that scene from Stand By Me where that little boy starts throwing up his blueberry pie.  It just keeps coming and coming and you wonder when on earth he's going to stop.  Ok, so Presley clearly hasn't eaten blueberry pie and she hasn't made anyone else throw up like in the movie, but the force is incredibly similar.  If she doesn't end up drenching her own outfit, she does mine.  Last week at her four month checkup, I pleaded my case for Zantac.  I was prepared to throw myself at the pediatricians feet so we could at least let us try it.  Much to my surprise, the pediatrician was more than willing to prescribe it.  In fact, she went full throttle and gave us the max dose possible.  One week she told us.  In one week we'll know whether this will be a 'miracle' drug for our little Miss Fussy Pants.  So a week has come and gone.  We've noticed less spitting up, but the constant crying continues.  My dreams of having a generally happy, content baby have once again been squashed.  But, I refuse to let optimism die.  We just started her on rice cereal.  We were/are hoping the combination will do the trick.  That this beautiful baby girl with sparkling bright blue eyes will wake up and become and angel baby.  Ok, as heavenly as that sounds, I'm also a bit of a realist.  I'm calling her pediatrician again tomorrow.  I've heard Prevacid may be good...  

National Lampoon's Colorado Vacation

Vacations in our family tend to be a bit dicey.  I have on occasion, referred to my husband as Clark.  As in Clark Grizwald from National Lampoon's Vacation.  Something always happens when we travel.  I have gotten to the point that now I just hope whatever 'it' is, it doesn't result in someone losing life or limb.  We just returned from a vacation in Boulder, Colorado.  An annual trip for my entire family.  There are 13 of us who make this long trek.  We visit my uncle, celebrate my daughter's birthday and escape the crazy Kansas heat and humidity.  Nearly half of the group is six and under.  We rarely have a dull moment.  Someone is bound to be throwing a fit, sitting in timeout, tormenting someone, screaming, not feeling good, on and on.  But somehow, we always return home on speaking terms, at least so far.  This year Craig and I decided to take his company car.  He gets a certain amount taken out of his paycheck each month so we can drive it unlimited.  We thought with gas prices being so high, it just made sense.  But were we really willing to sacrifice a few extra dollars (ok, more like several hundred) for sanity?  I didn't really have a say in the matter.  We were taking his car.  He drives a Chevy Impala.  Not the roomiest vehicle for three little people crammed in the back seat.  Not to mention the trunk space.  Due to the fact that we had to take Presley's swing, we were limited on what we were allowed to pack.  Two outfits per person, travel size containers only and only enough snacks to get us there (a bit risky in my opinion since snacks are often wonderful bribes).  I felt a bit like we were flying since we had such tight restrictions.  Fortunately, my husband did not inspect our bags since I snuck a few extra clothes on board.  On the way there, we battled a faulty DVD player (a HUGE lifeline), snacks that weren't good enough and a screaming baby.  We stopped every two hours.  One of the stops included a 'hike' around an abandoned gas station looking for hippos, mice and a treasure chest.  But finally after an eight hour trip that turned into a 12, we made it.  We hiked down Dream Canyon with all the kids.  It was not an easy hike.  My sister got lost with Brooks and Maggie (the two year olds).  However, she knew help would soon find her since Brooks was screaming bloody murder.  She was right.  On another hike Piper and my nephew Jack chased each other around with deer poop.  They were detoxed the second we got 'home'.  We rode horses through beautiful aspens and meadows.  Presley got to ride too.  She rode in the Baby Bijorn with the trail guide.  The guide said she was the first baby that's never fallen asleep (shocker!).  She held the reigns the entire time and cried when the guide had to pry them out of her hands.  On Piper's birthday, half of the frosting slid off her cake since we didn't refrigerate it.  However, watching nearly every episode of Ace of Cakes clearly paid off for my husband since he was able to fix it (Geof rules!).  Then just before we sang happy birthday to Piper, Jack accidentally hammered the cake with his little wooden gun.  Piper was upset that the cake didn't have Tinker Bell on it and made us promise her next cake would have Tinker Bell's picture on it, but it could not spell Tinker Bell, she said.  Only her picture.  My goodness, the demands of a four year old.  We had a few leftover cupcakes from the party (thank goodness since the cake clearly wasn't cutting it!).  Early the next morning, Brooks somehow climbed out of his pack and play without waking Piper (she was in the bed next to him), snuck downstairs without waking us, climbed up to the table and proceeded to eat a bite out of every single cupcake.  He came upstairs with a huge grin.  Proudly showing us the chocolate ring around his mouth and his gooey fingers.  We bought these cupcakes for $3 a piece at a trendy 'cupcakery' in Boulder.  One of them had chocolate frosting with bacon sprinkled on it.  So I rationalized it was somewhat of an acceptable breakfast for him.  The journey home was less eventful.  Less screaming, fewer problems with the DVD player, better snacks, not as many stops.  Our trip was certainly filled with little dramas here and there but all in all it was a fabulous get away.  Even for the Grizwald's.    

Are You There God? It's Me, Jamie.

God knows exactly what we need, when we need it.  I got a call from a friend last week that left me feeling hurt, puzzled and a bit blown away.  Not 20 seconds after I hung up the phone with her, one of the happiest people I know called.  God knew I needed to hear her joy and positive attitude.  She made me feel so much better and I didn't even tell her what had happened.  It was just hearing her joy and feeling her friendship that made such a difference.  God knew.  A month or so ago I was having a really rough day.  The kids were acting like crazy people, I felt under appreciated, I was basically a complete grump.  I knew I needed to exercise.  It helps me clear my head.  It's therapy.  That day I decided to ride my bike.  The first ten minutes on Pimp Juice (that's what I named my bike.  It's after that Nelly song that was popular a few years ago about a tricked out car.  I'm so cool.  ha!) I was still so grumpy.  I was telling myself some very positive things like, 'I don't want to be out here.  I'm going to have a terrible ride.  I just want to throw the covers over my head.  This totally stinks.'  So, I started talking to God about it.  I wanted him to hear just how bad my life was.  About how difficult things really are for me (whatever Jamie!).  It was a full blown pity party.  After a few minutes of venting, God started to bring me peace.  The pity party was winding down.  Not two seconds later, I caught something out of the corner of my eye.  It looked like a page out of the Bible.  'It couldn't be' I thought.  This is a very busy street, there's no way.  So I kept going.  I dismissed it.  But of course curiosity got the best of me.  I had to go back.  And there it was.  A page ripped out of Ecclesiastes just laying there in the grass.  I can't remember the exact verse but it was about the angels rejoicing and singing in heaven.  A great reminder that this earth is not perfect or fair.  We're not promised that this life will be easy.  Our real treasure is in heaven.  I left the page there on the grass.  I thought someone else might need it as much as I did at that moment.  I'm so glad I went on that bike ride.  His timing is perfect.  I have had countless other experiences where God's presence was so evident it's eerie.  For example, the time I had to spend the day with a difficult boss.  I prayed that God would give me a clear sign He was with me.  I was at Kinko's at the time.  When I walked out of the store, I saw a tiny little silver cross right by the door.  I had a great day that day even with my not-so-happy-about-life negative nelly boss.  My mom tells me she thinks I have some special connection to God.  That's so not true.  We all have the connection.  We all have an open phone line to Him.  It's a matter of using it.  It's a matter of listening, of waiting, of being observant, of having faith.  He knows.  He will show Himself in His perfect time.  If only, we ask. 

Of That Which Brings Us Joy

It's so interesting what brings people joy. For my neighbors it's their dogs. They don't have actual children, so their dogs are their babies. For the people across the street it's their garden. It's stunning. For me (other than my family), it's my writing. An outlet for me to laugh at my crazy life. For my husband it's watching the Texas Longhorns play football or his fantasy football league. Not really sure what to say about that. And for my mom, it's her band. She plays the clarinet in a band. It's totally hysterical. At least it was at first. Now, I'm really proud of her. She absolutely loves it. She's played in two free concerts in the park. We've been to both. I guess you could say we're kind of groupies. My kids get to dance in front of dozens of people who are well into their 80's. It brings Piper joy because she thinks she is the star of the show. It brings Brooksie joy because he gets to eat an entire box of popcorn. It brings me joy because I know how much it means to my mom to have us there. To support her doing something she really loves. She started crying the first time we saw her play. She told me it's not very often a grandmother could do what she got to do that night. It was very touching. I'm so glad she's found something that brings her such joy. Who would've thought in a million years it would be playing the clarinet in a band. But that's not the point. The point is, she loves it. And you can tell. The announcer said tonight their band is one of the oldest, if not the oldest remaining industrial bands in the country. I have no idea what that means, the industrial part anyway. But it made me proud. It made me proud to see my mom apart of such amazing history. They play a lot of marching band songs, patriotic songs.. songs that are a rich part of our country. Many 'older' people come up after the show and tell me how much fun they have watching my kids. My kids bring them joy. Wow. One lady said she appreciated me taking my kids to the concert so they're exposed to this kind of music. That made me feel good. I never thought watching my mom play the clarinet in a band could bring me joy too. But it does. Sometimes joy comes in ways and in places you least expect. But the important thing is to find your joy. Even if it's playing the clarinet in a band.

Memories of 'The Greatest Night Ever'

Last night was one I won't soon forget. We were having a girl's night. It was me, Miss Fussy Pants and three four year old girls (Piper turns four in a week so I'm rounding up). I told Piper she could have some friends over to play on the waterslide and make cupcakes with her Disney 'no bake' oven. It sounded so fun. So harmless. We would make memories that would last a lifetime. The girls would think back on that night with such nostalgia. 'Remember that fun summer night at Piper's house. That was the best,' they would say for years to come. Well, it started with the three of them having a screaming match to see who could scream the loudest and the longest with the highest pitch possible. I was trying to 'grin and bear it' knowing that's what little girls do. All the while reminding myself, we're making memories here Jamie. So I endured that for about 20 minutes. My head nearly exploded and I'm sure my neighbor who was outside watering his plants felt the same (he basically ran inside and wasn't seen or heard from again). After the screaming match ended in a tie (there was no way one was going to outdo the other), they played on the waterslide. I took lots of good 'party pics' so the girls would have a picture to go with their fabulous memory of the greatest summer night ever (or at least when they were four years old). Then it was time for cupcakes. We've tried this Disney 'no bake' cupcake thing once before. I knew it was a bit risky. The first time we tried it, it didn't go so well. It's one of those little ovens that allegedly bakes with ice. About the time we were getting ready to cut open the cake mix, Miss Fussy Pants starts crying and the girls start fighting over who gets to pour the mix, stir, open the oven, etc. What? This wasn't what I had envisioned. These were supposed to be happy memories. After consoling Miss Fussy Pants (the girls helped), we were back on the cupcakes. I followed the directions to a 't'. I allowed each girl to have a 'very important' job. And...... the cupcakes flopped. Wait a minute here. This is not going as planned. But where there's a will, there's a way. We had to give it another shot. I was determined to salvage this night. I was desperate to make those cupcakes amazing. Well, the second time around Miss Fussy Pants was screaming harder and instead of grabbing the cake mix, I grabbed the frosting mix (the packaging looks identical and given the situation it could've happened to even the greatest domestic goddess, which I am not.). They clearly did not turn out the second time around either. At that point I realized 'the greatest night ever' would certainly not be tonight. At least not how I envisioned it. So I let the girls watch 102 Dalmations for a few minutes, popped a bag of popcorn, split up the first batch of cupcakes (they were more like little dough balls) and we headed outside. The dough balls didn't look so bad since I slathered them with frosting and put a bunch of sprinkles on them (everything looks better with frosting and sprinkles). I turned the music on outside so they could dance (we have a speaker that looks like a rock and Piper calls it the singing rock) and suddenly the party took a different turn. We all started movin' and groovin'.. I was teaching the girls how to do the 'monkey' and they were teaching me some very interesting moves that only a four year old girl could dream up. A bit later both of their dads showed up right on time (when they dropped them off I jokingly said, 'Not a second past eight!' But I was so not joking and thank goodness they knew it.) And I was sort of sad to see them go. But Piper was exceptionally tired. She was crying that the light wasn't on in the bathroom, she had a splinter in her foot, etc. When I was putting her to bed she thanked me for a fun night and asked me if we could do it again. But next time, she said, "I want bigger cupcakes." Now that's a funny memory. A memory I hadn't planned on. Ya know, I think it really was a great night.

Silence is Golden

Nap time is sacred around our house. It's my one or two (and on a good day three!) hours of peace and calm. However, getting my kids to nap is so exhausting it makes me want to nap. Brooks HAS to climb into his crib himself. If you even attempt to lift him into his crib you've just set yourself back about 15 minutes because he flips out. He runs around his room and yells repeatedly, "No I do it! No I do it!" Once he's in his crib, which usually takes him about 5 minutes, he goes wild. He jumps up and down cheering, "I did it!" You try and act so excited for the little guy.. even though you're so tired and he's only done it about a thousand times before. The real trick is getting him to actually lay down. Typically he refuses and has a death grip on the rails of his crib. If you try and physically lay him down he pops right back up. And if you just leave the room with him standing there, watch out. He yells at the top of his lungs, "MOOOMMMMM!!" Which then wakes up Presley and then you've got a whole other mess on your hands. So lately I've started acting like a complete spaz when he lays down. I tell him, "put your head on the pillow and I'll cheer for you." Once he does I go bananas. I wave my arms in the air and swing my head around like I'm at a rock concert or something, "YOU DID IT!" I try to yell in a very quiet, yet very excited voice. He thinks it's the greatest thing he's ever seen. I feel like a total moron but it works (it's amazing the things you do for a little peace and quiet). After I've completed my victory dance for him, I sing Twinkle Twinkle and follow it up with a prayer (which by the way, instead of calling them prayers he calls them 'Dear God'. Sooo cute.). There are many days that I have to sing it at a much accelerated rate because Presley is screaming her head off. Sometimes I worry he'll think that's how fast the song is supposed be. Fortunately, Piper is pretty good about going to bed. If you tell her all the fun things you're going to do after naps (fun is so relative. We're talking simple things like printing Caillou coloring pages) she'll usually go down pretty well. But, that's when she takes center stage in her world. She usually spends about 15 or 20 minutes singing in her bed. And when I say sing, I mean belting it out. She puts on a full concert. So after about 30 minutes of hearing my little song bird, and occasionally hearing Brooksie chatter to himself.. it's usually quiet. I don't like any noise. I don't like any commotion. I don't like any movement from anyone other than me. Even the dog has to go to the basement. It's my one chance during the day to just catch my breath. To remind myself I'm not crazy. To just 'be'. Silence is golden... shhhh.