The week before my scheduled death sentence we had a lovely visit with Anna, my roommate from Governor's School in 2002, her daughter, Grace, and another boy she keeps during the week, Aiden.
I got to experience having three kids in the house at once! Had I been solely responsible for them I would have eventually needed backup, although they were SO sweet and adorable. Translation: Emmy will be an only child for a while.
We also spent time with Nanny & Papa, who are always thrilled to see her.
Emmy was extra snuggly on Doomsday Eve...on what planet would I want to leave this sweet face every morning, especially for non stop catastrophes? : (
Surprisingly I was emotionally in tact last Monday morning, likely because the misery had yet to settle in.
My expression while walking in the office:
How I actually felt:
1) My car getting sucked into a UFO
2) Having a sudden need for an emergency dental procedure
Just go ahead and pull them all.
3) An earthquake putting a permanent trench in the parking lot leading into my office building
We regret to inform you that this gap shall never again provide passage.
So... back to customer crises, things that don't work, useless conference calls...
"Today we discuss the importance of the first 'R' in the word "February."
Why am I here?? No one even pronounces me!!!
Sharing night shifts with Ryan has definitely been interesting, and at times it's temping for both of us to play possum when we start hearing the fidgeting on the baby monitor. So, what we've implemented is a "hot potato" approach when it comes to Emerson. Whoever held her last before she screams is responsible for it.
And once you get her to sleep it's like a giant game of "Don't Wake Emmy."
I've never in my life seen such a light sleeper. Is London hiring guards? Because she'd make an excellent, watchful eye.
I made a mental disposal of everything I "knew" up to this point about sleeping babies and started from scratch, literally. The nails on my baby girl would give the average clerk a run for her money.
That'll be $5.75, honey.
I have labeled what I believe are the "phases" of Emerson's sleep patterns. Allow me to elaborate in a desperate effort to help others whose need for this advice is as imperative as the next breath of air or thump of their heartbeat:
Phase 1: Scream AKA fight sleep. This phase can come on suddenly, like a gas pain or home invasion. One minute we're watching a DVRed American Idol episode, and the next moment, BAM!!! That scream is more startling than a smack in the face.
Phase 2: Go in the bathroom and turn on the hairdryer. The sudden loud noise stops her in her vocal tracks, where she'll spend the next 5-10 minutes looking around while I sway her from side to side with my hair lumped like a log on my head to avoid her pulling out the stray hairs. Elaborate up-do aside, she manages to find them anyway, and being poked repeatedly with a needle just may hurt a little less.
Phase 3: The eyes are now closed, but beware: this phase contains trickery. What you think is a snooze may in fact be a long blink, resulting in entering Phase 4 too quickly and going back to Phase 1.
Phase 4: Loose legs and arms. These can be tested with a quick lift. If they fall straight down, you're in luck and can successfully make your way to the rocking chair, where you can relieve your now aching back. Rock psychotically for several minutes while throwing in a few more "lift checks" in for good measure.
Phase 5: Time to enter the crib!!! SLOW is key here. Think turtle-walking-through-tar. EVER so carefully begin the two foot down move onto the mattress. Move arms downward like a dilapidated elevator in the world's oldest building, or else you'll be sorry. Carefully, and slowly slide your arms out from under the breathing miracle that you love so dearly but WISH would allow you the kind of sleep you'd get after college exams. Stay on standby for at least thirty seconds to settle a flailing arm or foot, and then exit the nursery.
YOU MADE IT...or did you???
One time I had passed phase five when the button on my pajamas hit the crib, startling her awake. I resisted the urge to set that sleepwear on fire and made a mental note to be more careful in the future.
If "success" could be defined through a picture, here it is.
ZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Along with constant fatigue, aches, and poop, there are of COURSE fun things, too...like Emerson's first time going to a Birthday party last Saturday. And it wasn't just any party. It was a CIRCUS!
Outtake 1
That's more like it.
Emmy was nice and alert for a good while, but she eventually found a sweet sleeping buddy! We had a great time at Wren's first Birthday party, and praise the Lord that she saved the explosion for the comfort of our home. It was a circus, alright.
Emmy doesn't seem to have any problem warming up to people. Daycare has gone really well, and evidently she LOVES it!
Successful first day: check.
At least one of us is having a great time during the day! I on the other hand am busier than a bread truck driver the day before a winter storm.
Does this sucker have four wheel drive???
And my brain has been in overload.
It was hard enough for me to get to work on time BEFORE her arrival, but one can only imagine the hurdles associated with getting an "adult" AND a newborn out of the door at a specific time...not to mention keeping the house neat and tidy to appease the Cleaning Warden.
A few weeks ago Ryan looked at me, disgusted, and asked, "Where'd you get the Tazmanian Devil?"
I looked around frantically and swore to him that I had not bought such a stuffed animal.
But he kept asking, and in my purely honest confusion I finally said in exasperation..."WHAT are you talking about?!??!"
He referenced the contents of my pocketbook on the floor in my closet. You know, the usuals- Chapstick, new lipstick, old tube of lipstick of which I just ran out but was too cheap (shockingly) to throw away, because I keep thinking I can squeeze out a few more turns from it, unopened bandaids that are filthy on the outside, loose and un-matching earrings, broken eye liner pencils, checks, hair products, church bulletins that look like they've been through the washing machine on speed cycle, piles of useless- and also smashed- business cards, expired coupons that the cash register regurgitated on my last trip to Bi-Lo, mail...need I continue?
In essence the floor of our closet looked something like this:
And I had completely forgotten about it. But it wasn't getting past Ryan.
"Cleanliness is next to Godliness..." from Chapter 1, verse 3 of the book of Organization.
Speaking of all things orderly and in place: I have been engaged in a MOST unsuccessful battle with my "benefits" department (cue cricket chips) and insurance provider over Emerson's coverage. My efforts have proven to be more futile than the average experiment on Home Improvement.
"I don't think so, Tim."
Remembering "What Would Jesus Do?" has been INCREDIBLY difficult during this unnecessarily horrendous ordeal. At this rate perhaps her insurance plan will be in place by the time we enroll her in college.
Recent challenges have included but are not limited to: NEVER getting someone live, her being listed as the wrong gender (hello- her middle name is ALICE?!?), having to pay out of pocket for the time I was on leave, being initially uninformed of that tidbit and almost losing coverage completely, the company only accepting documents via fax (is this 1980??), calling a MILLION times to confirm that she's listed as a dependent only to receive another denial notice on her doctor's bill, and those HORRID voice recognition messages, resulting in conversations that would rival the confusion at the Tower of Babel...
"Please say, in a few words, how I can help you today."
"Coverage."
"I'm sorry, I didn't get that."
"COVERAGE."
"You said: "butt kiss." Is this correct?"
LIVE REPRESENTATIVE!!!!!!!
I have been so frustrated and fuming with this situation that I'd have more confidence boarding the Titanic with ankle weights.
Here is Emerson at the youthful age of 152...with her new insurance card that just arrived.
Speaking of youth, there are few things in this world that make everyone feel like a kid at heart, and that's snowfall.
With business, schools, daycares, and everyone but the Liberty Tax guy trapped indoors for the past few days, I've had an awesomely fun time at home making memories with my family.
Yesterday, our first snow day in a LONG time, also happened to be Emmy's three month "Birthday." Could you think of a sweeter way to commemorate such an occasion?
Ryan actually worked for part of the day, but this sweet girl was in good hands with her grandparents and uncle who ADORE her.
Emmy, when you read this in the future, you need to know how DEEPLY you are loved more than life itself. Every child in the world deserves to be as loved as you are, my baby.
Our snow day consisted of a brief snowball fight/an adventure in the woods...
Homemade chili and baked potatoes for dinner...
And SNOW CREAM dessert made by Chef Boyar-JAY! He's phenomenal. And so was the snow cream that I, for the record, had never consumed until yesterday.
The following discussion took place during our dessert:
Me: Is it sanitary to eat snow?
Jay: Oh, yeah, it's fine. I sanitized and boiled it before mixing the cream. We're so used to boiling bottles by now that this comment almost sunk in without my noticing.
Me: Okay, well, does snow have carbs? In my defense, it did resemble heavily caloric flour.
Jay: "....."
Me: Oh, WAIT! It's ICE. Oops!
Jay: But all that sugar in it definitely has carbs.
Me: Okay! ...as I go back for a second serving.
Having the past day and a half of freedom has allowed me to reflect on snow: its presence, purity, and even power. Think about it. Just a few inches of the stuff shut down major cities and resulted in a declared 'emergency' in numerous states.
As much chaos as snow can cause, it can also provide some of the greatest peace on earth. Out of all the weather phenomenons it is the only one that can't be heard; it must be seen. You can hear rain, howling wind, and fire crackling, but you will never hear a snowflake as it hits the ground, losing its once perfectly unique shape and mixing with the other snow. Perhaps the lack of sound is part of what makes it so beautiful, just like the voice of God. In the same way that You must seek Him in order for His voice to be revealed your eyes must be open to take in the sight of a snow covered mountain. And each person created in His image is as unique as a snowflake.
My train of thought went further. No matter what snow covers it gives purity to everything it touches. It covers filthy garbage dumps just as easily as it would blanket the Biltmore estate. Isn't that how the blood of Christ works? It covers all of us- no matter who or what we were before- the church goer who likes to gossip occasionally or the person behind bars for a heinous crime. We are cleansed by His blood and can only attain righteousness through Him. Of course we have to accept, believe, and live by His word, but He is simply waiting for you to acknowledge that He is the one who is covering you.
So as we head into a weekend with snow still on the ground, I say with multiple meanings: Get under the covers!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment