In the interest of brutal honesty, I'll share my night last night with you all.
Apparently Emmett read yesterday's post and decided to mock me. "Three hours is bad?" he said to himself, "I'll show her!" And thus he woke even more frequently last night. If you recall, I had not quite been blessed with the opportunity to make up for my lost rest the night before so by the time yesterday evening came, I was not ready to wake in the middle of the night, let alone as often as he demanded.
By 3:15am I was crying as a result of a lack of sleep, an overwhelming amount of bitterness and a desire to simply step away from being a mommy for just a day.
Here is my pure honesty: My faith at this point began to falter. You see, I had prayed yesterday for the opportunity for just one little nap. That did not happen. I prayed last night that he would sleep well. That did not happen. I prayed even after his first feeding that maybe he would sleep just a little longer than he had been. He slept an hour less. Why did it seem that for every petition I lifted out of desperation I received not only a "no" in response, but what appeared to be the exact opposite? I was afraid to pray further for fear this restlessness would get even worse. And I was ashamed.
God was breaking me. And by 5:30am He succeeded. After one more hour of sleep, clearness began to enter my foggy mind. Rather than a bitterness at the fact that my son was crying yet again, I was overcome with a feeling of thankfulness.
I have a baby.
A healthy, wonderful baby boy.
His beautiful older sister was sleeping peacefully in the room next door.
I have so much for which I should be uttering unending prayers of gratitude. I have what others only dream of and here I have the audacity to be angry that I'm called to care for these blessings? How selfish could I get?
So as my sleepy and hungry son nuzzled next to me, his soft hair brushing my arm, I gave thanks to my God, my Provider. Thanks for this life where the most difficult thing I face is sleeping a couple hours less than I am used to. And, rather than my selfish words of pleading, I lifted prayers for those I know who actually are in desperate need at this moment.
Forgive me, Lord, for my ungratefulness. Remind me always of the blessings I have received.
14 July 2010
13 July 2010
Not Just a Glitch
As a result of my high school Childcare and Development class I once spent a week as the mother of an animatronic infant whose crying could be quieted only by the turning of a key in its back. I only wish it was that easy - or rather, I only wish real children only cried when they were hungry (the key was a symbolic bottle - why it went in the back rather than the mouth one can only guess). My fake baby (Cilicia Ruth was her name - it was my favorite at the time) was at first quite easy to deal with. She cried every two hours during the day and every five hours at night. I would have to sit up with her for a half hour until she cooed, her way of saying, "Get that key out of my back, you freak." After the first couple of days I was saddened to discover my poor baby must have been kicked in the head or something because her computer chip had gotten out of whack - she was now crying every five hours during the day and waking me from peaceful slumber every two hours. This could not be right. Stupid technology!
Little did I realize how true to life tiny Cilicia really was. After a night with nice breaks between feedings, allowing for a rather wonderful night's sleep, little EB continued sleeping so well through the day yesterday that I was literally waking him to eat after four or more hours. But when it was time for me to sleep, guess who suddenly decided he HAD to eat every three hours (which, yes, I understand is still a dream for some mothers, but when you're sleepwalking to your child's room in the middle of the night you couldn't care less about other mothers).
And speaking of his inconvenient schedule, guess who also decided he didn't need to cry at all today except for when Mommy was attempting to take advantage of Big Sister's naptime to snag a little shut-eye of her own. Guess, then, which two girls of the house were deprived of their proper sleep. And guess who was most annoyed about it - I'll give you a hint, it wasn't the toddler who still got to sleep 12 hours last night.
Ah, the ups and downs of mommy-hood - Cilicia tried to warn me.
Little did I realize how true to life tiny Cilicia really was. After a night with nice breaks between feedings, allowing for a rather wonderful night's sleep, little EB continued sleeping so well through the day yesterday that I was literally waking him to eat after four or more hours. But when it was time for me to sleep, guess who suddenly decided he HAD to eat every three hours (which, yes, I understand is still a dream for some mothers, but when you're sleepwalking to your child's room in the middle of the night you couldn't care less about other mothers).
And speaking of his inconvenient schedule, guess who also decided he didn't need to cry at all today except for when Mommy was attempting to take advantage of Big Sister's naptime to snag a little shut-eye of her own. Guess, then, which two girls of the house were deprived of their proper sleep. And guess who was most annoyed about it - I'll give you a hint, it wasn't the toddler who still got to sleep 12 hours last night.
Ah, the ups and downs of mommy-hood - Cilicia tried to warn me.
12 July 2010
Of Movies and Sisters
I realized I forgot to mention: EB had his first movie theater experience on Saturday. We all enjoyed a family date downtown which included a showing of How to Train Your Dragon (and dinner at Fazoli's - a rare but oh-so-wonderful treat!). Of course, being frugal and wise parents we opted for the cheap theater experience because paying $2 a ticket makes it much easier to bite the bullet and walk out if the children make it necessary. If I pay $10 a ticket, some very angry movie-goers are just going to have to deal with listening to a kid a scream.
They actually did fairly well. I had to miss a portion of the beginning because EB was NOT happy, but once he got some food in his tummy, all was good in his world. Incidentally, the same was true for CB - when you keep the munchies (i.e. Multigrain Cheerios and the occasional kid-sized handful of popcorn) rolling, you keep the kid happy. Did I mention previously my children love to eat?
On a different note, I often get the question of how CB is dealing with her new baby brother and it makes me happy to say she absolutely loves him. The first couple of days, when she realized he wasn't going anywhere, there was a little anxiety, but she has definitely warmed up. My favorite part of the day is when she wakes up in the morning with her first question being, "Emmett?" And then when she gets her first morning glimpse of him there is always a very excited "Emmett!!!" He's like a movie star around here.
The only issue thus far is that, as many know, a toddler does not understand that the amount of affection towards one's sibling is not equal to the amount of force in the touching/hugging/hitting-with-the-shoe-in-the-face. So we're working on that - but she totally has the good night kiss-on-the-forehead down and that makes it all worth it :)
They actually did fairly well. I had to miss a portion of the beginning because EB was NOT happy, but once he got some food in his tummy, all was good in his world. Incidentally, the same was true for CB - when you keep the munchies (i.e. Multigrain Cheerios and the occasional kid-sized handful of popcorn) rolling, you keep the kid happy. Did I mention previously my children love to eat?
On a different note, I often get the question of how CB is dealing with her new baby brother and it makes me happy to say she absolutely loves him. The first couple of days, when she realized he wasn't going anywhere, there was a little anxiety, but she has definitely warmed up. My favorite part of the day is when she wakes up in the morning with her first question being, "Emmett?" And then when she gets her first morning glimpse of him there is always a very excited "Emmett!!!" He's like a movie star around here.
The only issue thus far is that, as many know, a toddler does not understand that the amount of affection towards one's sibling is not equal to the amount of force in the touching/hugging/hitting-with-the-shoe-in-the-face. So we're working on that - but she totally has the good night kiss-on-the-forehead down and that makes it all worth it :)
11 July 2010
Like a Weed
I cannot believe how fast my little boy is growing up. It makes me sad that his "Newborn" onesies are already tight on him. Truthfully, that's partially because the cloth diapers he's started wearing since his cord fell off tend to give him a ghetto booty and fill out those little bodysuits a little quicker than his mom-inherited non-booty typically would. But even so, he's growing up. He slept in his own room last night for the very first time and rocked the crib like a champ. And this morning he joined all of his future friends in the church nursery for the first time. Such a big boy!
Now that I actually have to get out of bed to feed him at night, I was thinking at 2:30 this morning that maybe it's about time I invested in a Slanket (the high class Snuggie) because it's a little chilly in the house at that time and getting a blanket over my shoulders while juggling a baby in my lap just doesn't work for me. I realized, though, that not wanting to smother my child, I would probably have to wear the Slanket backwards - it would mostly be for my arms anyway. At that point it donned on me - hey that's what the rest of the world calls a robe. So maybe, rather than spending a chunk of change on a blanket that makes me look like a cultist, I should just pull my plush robe out of the back of the closet. There's 2:30am thinking for you.
And this post is 11:45pm typing for you, so I think it's about time to call it quits. Night, all.
Now that I actually have to get out of bed to feed him at night, I was thinking at 2:30 this morning that maybe it's about time I invested in a Slanket (the high class Snuggie) because it's a little chilly in the house at that time and getting a blanket over my shoulders while juggling a baby in my lap just doesn't work for me. I realized, though, that not wanting to smother my child, I would probably have to wear the Slanket backwards - it would mostly be for my arms anyway. At that point it donned on me - hey that's what the rest of the world calls a robe. So maybe, rather than spending a chunk of change on a blanket that makes me look like a cultist, I should just pull my plush robe out of the back of the closet. There's 2:30am thinking for you.
And this post is 11:45pm typing for you, so I think it's about time to call it quits. Night, all.
10 July 2010
Are you new here?
I don't care if I've done this before, I feel like a first-time parent all over again.
After giving birth for the first time, many seasoned moms tried to make me feel better about the prospects of continuing our family with the words, "Don't worry, you'll forget" - meaning the memory of the pain dwindles and is far overshadowed with the joy of parenthood. I would, by the way, say this was overall true. What they failed to mention was that the labor pains were not the only first steps of parenting one forgets. With every new stage our beautiful toddler enters, I tend to forget that she was ever anything different than what she is now. I cannot fathom a time when she didn't run to the door to greet daddy, let alone back to the day we were thrilled that she lifted her head an inch off the floor.
Therefore, being at these beginning stages all over again is like starting fresh. Which isn't always helpful. Like when he won't stop crying. Let's tackle that for a minute. Our little Caiah Bear was the most mellow child on the planet. In fact, when she's had a good nap, she still generally is. She rarely cried unless it was right at feeding time or I'd just let her fall off my lap and land on her head (not that that ever happened . . .). I've told people over and over again that if this second one cried I wouldn't know what to do. And I was right.
I do remember one night, only days after bringing Micaiah home from the hospital, I was frantically working my way through "On Becoming Babywise" (a book I thoroughly recommend to ANY parent), which discusses scheduling and the like. Meanwhile, Micaiah is laying in her pack 'n play screaming her little lungs out, Philip looking at me asking, "What do I do?!" and me crying back, "I don't know, I haven't gotten to that chapter yet!"
I had that same moment yesterday - Emmett screaming with all he had while laying on the floor, me IMing Philip, "What do I do?!" and all the time thinking, "Shouldn't I know this already? Haven't I done this before?"
Truth be told, I have no idea how we got Micaiah to where we are today. Somehow, one day after the other of fumbling through this parenting thing we got to today - a fairly well-adjusted, semi-obedient nearly-two-year-old. Thus, I know that somehow, one day after another of continuing to fumble through life we will make it to fairly well-adjusted, semi-intelligent adults - even if we couldn't tell you how we got there.
Here's praying, anyway.
After giving birth for the first time, many seasoned moms tried to make me feel better about the prospects of continuing our family with the words, "Don't worry, you'll forget" - meaning the memory of the pain dwindles and is far overshadowed with the joy of parenthood. I would, by the way, say this was overall true. What they failed to mention was that the labor pains were not the only first steps of parenting one forgets. With every new stage our beautiful toddler enters, I tend to forget that she was ever anything different than what she is now. I cannot fathom a time when she didn't run to the door to greet daddy, let alone back to the day we were thrilled that she lifted her head an inch off the floor.
Therefore, being at these beginning stages all over again is like starting fresh. Which isn't always helpful. Like when he won't stop crying. Let's tackle that for a minute. Our little Caiah Bear was the most mellow child on the planet. In fact, when she's had a good nap, she still generally is. She rarely cried unless it was right at feeding time or I'd just let her fall off my lap and land on her head (not that that ever happened . . .). I've told people over and over again that if this second one cried I wouldn't know what to do. And I was right.
I do remember one night, only days after bringing Micaiah home from the hospital, I was frantically working my way through "On Becoming Babywise" (a book I thoroughly recommend to ANY parent), which discusses scheduling and the like. Meanwhile, Micaiah is laying in her pack 'n play screaming her little lungs out, Philip looking at me asking, "What do I do?!" and me crying back, "I don't know, I haven't gotten to that chapter yet!"
I had that same moment yesterday - Emmett screaming with all he had while laying on the floor, me IMing Philip, "What do I do?!" and all the time thinking, "Shouldn't I know this already? Haven't I done this before?"
Truth be told, I have no idea how we got Micaiah to where we are today. Somehow, one day after the other of fumbling through this parenting thing we got to today - a fairly well-adjusted, semi-obedient nearly-two-year-old. Thus, I know that somehow, one day after another of continuing to fumble through life we will make it to fairly well-adjusted, semi-intelligent adults - even if we couldn't tell you how we got there.
Here's praying, anyway.
09 July 2010
The Name Game
After three and a half weeks solid of visitors (I say solid, truthfully there were two days in there which were saved for ourselves), we are finally getting the chance to see what family life will be like for just the four of us. We have definitely enjoyed the time with family and the ability to adapt to a newborn while having constant entertainment (in the form of playmates) for our little Caiah Bear (CB), but there is still something to be said for having some quiet nuclear-family time and we're looking forward to it.
Thus, now that the house is quieting down for a short while (i.e. the extent of naptime) I will take the opportunity to divulge the explanation behind the naming of Emmett.
The day we found out we were having a boy, there was much trepidation on the part of both mommy and daddy. We were used to a baby girl - we knew what to do with her and felt we had a pretty good handle on this parenting a daughter thing. But a boy was a whole different story and, to us, carried much more responsibility. We were to be in charge of growing our baby boy into a godly man who will be the leader of his home one day. Yes, we understand it is also our task to grow CB into a godly woman, wife and mother, but growing a boy into a man just seems so much more daunting. And we weren't sure we were up to it.
The day after the ultrasound, I continued with my Bible study through Proverbs. That morning's passage came from the third chapter, which depicts instruction from a father to his son on wise living. Verses 3-4 in my ESV Study Bible read: "Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man."
I found it very interesting that the key to godly success as noted in these verses was found in living a life defined by love and faithfulness (or, as the NASB puts it, kindness and truth). Whereas the world emphasizes power and strength when looking for a successful man, God looks deeper. I wanted for our son to live his life according to God's definition of success. These verses would be a guiding point for me in raising my son according to God's standards.
Thus, when considering a name for our son, I decided to look into the original Hebrew in verse 3. The Hebrew word for "kindness" was "checed" (pronounced "khesed"). Ok, so maybe this wasn't a good plan . . . But then I found the word for "truth": "'ehmeth" (pronounced "ehmet"). Well, now that sounded like "Emmett" to me and that name could definitely work. Philip agreed and we mulled over it for, literally, months. But no matter what other name we thought of, we always came back to Emmett and, thus, he was born.
An interesting fact to note is that while we chose his name for the Hebrew word, most baby name sources site his name as coming from a German origin meaning, "Strength." I found a bit of irony in the point that I had considered strength to be the worldly standard while truth was the godly standard and here his name meant both.
His middle name was chosen almost immediately, long before we had its antecedent. We both liked the name Elijah, which means "The Lord is my God", but Philip preferred it as a middle name, so we went with that plan.
And there you have it. The history behind Baby Emmett's name. I hope your curiosity was thoroughly satisfied.
Oh, and a couple of pictures, because I can . . .
"That would be me: Amazing!"
That's my little super hero, racing off to save the day.
Thus, now that the house is quieting down for a short while (i.e. the extent of naptime) I will take the opportunity to divulge the explanation behind the naming of Emmett.
The day we found out we were having a boy, there was much trepidation on the part of both mommy and daddy. We were used to a baby girl - we knew what to do with her and felt we had a pretty good handle on this parenting a daughter thing. But a boy was a whole different story and, to us, carried much more responsibility. We were to be in charge of growing our baby boy into a godly man who will be the leader of his home one day. Yes, we understand it is also our task to grow CB into a godly woman, wife and mother, but growing a boy into a man just seems so much more daunting. And we weren't sure we were up to it.
The day after the ultrasound, I continued with my Bible study through Proverbs. That morning's passage came from the third chapter, which depicts instruction from a father to his son on wise living. Verses 3-4 in my ESV Study Bible read: "Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them around your neck; write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man."
I found it very interesting that the key to godly success as noted in these verses was found in living a life defined by love and faithfulness (or, as the NASB puts it, kindness and truth). Whereas the world emphasizes power and strength when looking for a successful man, God looks deeper. I wanted for our son to live his life according to God's definition of success. These verses would be a guiding point for me in raising my son according to God's standards.
Thus, when considering a name for our son, I decided to look into the original Hebrew in verse 3. The Hebrew word for "kindness" was "checed" (pronounced "khesed"). Ok, so maybe this wasn't a good plan . . . But then I found the word for "truth": "'ehmeth" (pronounced "ehmet"). Well, now that sounded like "Emmett" to me and that name could definitely work. Philip agreed and we mulled over it for, literally, months. But no matter what other name we thought of, we always came back to Emmett and, thus, he was born.
An interesting fact to note is that while we chose his name for the Hebrew word, most baby name sources site his name as coming from a German origin meaning, "Strength." I found a bit of irony in the point that I had considered strength to be the worldly standard while truth was the godly standard and here his name meant both.
His middle name was chosen almost immediately, long before we had its antecedent. We both liked the name Elijah, which means "The Lord is my God", but Philip preferred it as a middle name, so we went with that plan.
And there you have it. The history behind Baby Emmett's name. I hope your curiosity was thoroughly satisfied.
Oh, and a couple of pictures, because I can . . .
"That would be me: Amazing!"
That's my little super hero, racing off to save the day.08 July 2010
Inspiration
I've been inspired. As lame as it sounds, my recent viewing of Julie & Julia has struck a chord with the blogger in me. Thus, I have a goal. In an effort to be more consistent with my blogging, I've decided to blog every day of my son's first year. I've missed out on 21 days, but I'm not going to let that stop me. I'm calling it "The first year of life for my second child as told from his third week." Like it? Okay, maybe it could take some work, but I like the 1-2-3 feel.
I'm looking forward to being forced to stop and notice what is going on around me every day. I've been afraid of losing the little moments with my second child, having seen many of the small changes as they occurred with my first. Thus, my blog will now serve as a stop sign, prodding me to look around and watch the grass grow in my life.
Our Emmett Bug (as I call him, heretofore known as EB), who entered this world at 8lb 5oz weighed in this morning at 10lb 12oz. And he's stretched 2 inches since birth as well. No one can accuse my children of not eating (you would also know this if you've ever seen my daughter, particularly at snack time). Before being weighed by the nurse this morning in his doctor's office, he chose to do me a favor while we had our alone time for me to strip him down to a clean diaper. Rather than costing me an entire diaper by holding it until I put the clean one on, he decided to let it spray right there on the examining table and all over the floor.
As I frantically grabbed paper towels and debated whether or not I was allowed to change the butcher paper without the aid of a nurse (I decided, being an adult and perfectly capable of pulling a sheet of paper, I could handle it), I repeated in my head my own mantra of, "I'm sure this is not the first baby to have peed in this office." Thus, breathing slowly and working my way through the paper towel dispenser, we survived and later the doctor assured me that the little girl who vomited on the floor last week was much worse.
That's when I decided not to tell her about the paci I gave back to EB (after a thorough wipe-down by my own fingers, of course) after he tossed it to the floor. She doesn't need to know everything.
I'm looking forward to being forced to stop and notice what is going on around me every day. I've been afraid of losing the little moments with my second child, having seen many of the small changes as they occurred with my first. Thus, my blog will now serve as a stop sign, prodding me to look around and watch the grass grow in my life.
Our Emmett Bug (as I call him, heretofore known as EB), who entered this world at 8lb 5oz weighed in this morning at 10lb 12oz. And he's stretched 2 inches since birth as well. No one can accuse my children of not eating (you would also know this if you've ever seen my daughter, particularly at snack time). Before being weighed by the nurse this morning in his doctor's office, he chose to do me a favor while we had our alone time for me to strip him down to a clean diaper. Rather than costing me an entire diaper by holding it until I put the clean one on, he decided to let it spray right there on the examining table and all over the floor.
As I frantically grabbed paper towels and debated whether or not I was allowed to change the butcher paper without the aid of a nurse (I decided, being an adult and perfectly capable of pulling a sheet of paper, I could handle it), I repeated in my head my own mantra of, "I'm sure this is not the first baby to have peed in this office." Thus, breathing slowly and working my way through the paper towel dispenser, we survived and later the doctor assured me that the little girl who vomited on the floor last week was much worse.
That's when I decided not to tell her about the paci I gave back to EB (after a thorough wipe-down by my own fingers, of course) after he tossed it to the floor. She doesn't need to know everything.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)