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So, our adorable baby girl (note the bias) got me good last week. And, quite frankly, I can't believe I'm admitting to this, but for the sake of humor, I guess I have to relate this story.
During the course of the day on Thursday, I was changing Leah's diaper (again). This one was particularly messy, and she was particularly fussy. Now, when she's fussy, she often farts (I guess it's a result of getting herself so worked up). Well, true to form, she farted while on the changing table.
Unfortunately for me, I hadn't anticipated the fart... or its force... and thus was not quick enough to re-cover Leah with the diaper. Yes, you can imagine what happened.
One minute my shirt and her changing pad are clean. The next minute there's baby poo on my shirt, the changing pad, AND the floor. And I'm not talking about just a sprinkle. We're talking a noticeable amount. Think several wipes' worth.
Despite the shock and disgust at being pooped on (well, actually, it was more like she took aim and fired), I had to laugh. What's the use of crying about it? I'll just chalk it up to experience... and be wary of loaded farts...
A friend told me that one of my more recent posts caused some concern, so I thought I'd offer a clarification.
Though I'm longing for home (heaven), I'm not depressed or suicidal. I simply recognize that we humans were made for some place better. Though life is great, it requires work and sometimes, well, I don't want to work. Instead, I just want to live effortlessly without conflict or pain. That's all.
As for the relationships aspect I mentioned, this is not referring to Scott. In fact, I don't know what I'd do without him. He's AMAZING with Leah. When he gets home from work, he goes into Daddy-mode, taking care of Leah if she's fussing, and thus giving me a break. He's quick to change her diapers, play with her, or soothe her, and during dinner, he's on Daddy duty, eating with one hand while holding Leah with the other. He's so much fun to watch with her. He's an even better dad than I thought he was going to be.
Oh... and the remote re-appeared while I was changing the sheets the other day. I guess the portal to the fourth dimension is lurking somewhere in our duvet cover...
That's the dimension where "lost" items reside. Really. I know some hypothesize that the fourth dimension is time (think time travel), but really, is there any evidence to support that? I, on the other hand, have concrete proof of my theory.
In a previous post, I mentioned some recipes that mysteriously disappeared. Well, I've never found them. And now the TV remote for the bedroom TV has found the same fate. One morning I had it, and the next I didn't. I don't remember moving it (I keep it on my nightstand), but it obviously went somewhere since it's nowhere to be found. (And our bedroom is just as meticulous and orderly as the rest of the house, so no, I don't think it's hiding under a pile of clothes.) The only logical explanation is that a portal to the fourth dimension opened, swallowing the remote without a trace.
Now, I know that I haven't exactly been getting a full night's rest recently, but Leah has been sleeping for 5-6 hours at a stretch, so I've been getting a sufficient amount of sleep, and certainly more sleep than when she first came home. Thus, I have a hard time conceding that perhaps in a moment of sleepiness I simply misplaced the remote; after all, I distinctly remember using it the day before it disappeared.
Plus, consider another commonly lost "item": weight. When you lose it, where does it go? Since it's something, doesn't it, like other "somethings", have to go somewhere? How can it just become nothing? If matter is neither created nor destroyed, then doesn't that apply to those extra pounds we sometimes carry around? Since having Leah, my pregnancy weight has been slowly disappearing (thankfully). Again, though, where does it go? It's not like I'm physically removing it through a procedure; instead, they're just dwindling away on their own, a little here, a little there. Couldn't that same portal that swallowed the remote and the recipes be swallowing those extra pounds?
It's just a theory... but I find it rather compelling. Now... if we could selectively access that portal to reclaim the wanted lost items while the unwanted items remain lost forever.
Yesterday was one of those days when I was acutely aware of not feeling at home. I'm not talking about home as in the home in which I reside, I mean home as in belonging here on this earth. I know of other believers who experience this feeling on occasion, too. There's a sense that you just don't fit in, that you weren't made for this world. Please don't associate that with UFOs and the like; I'm talking about longing for heaven, for meeting my Maker.
No, this doesn't mean that I'm ready to leave this place; instead, I'm just more aware of why we were made for something better. I'm not sure what brings on this longing. Maybe it's the wonder of the beauty of spring and a couple inviting days. Maybe it's the challenges that crop up in my life. Maybe it's the relationships that require so much work, and the uncertainty that often accompanies them. Or maybe it's an awareness of my own failings, shortcomings, and imperfections.
All I know is that sometimes this world makes me tired, and forces me to redirect my thoughts to a better place. I look forward to one day residing with my Saviour in heaven. To a time when I'll be free of the sin and troubles in my life. To a time when relationships will just be, without effort or complications. To a time of endless perfect days.
Until that time, though, I thank the Lord for these moments of longing for they allow me to re-examine my life, taking stock of what needs to be changed, and recognizing my need for help from Him while I'm still here. By longing for my true home, my gaze shifts from me to my Maker, and thus I can draw strength and perseverance from Him, focusing on not what is seen, but what is unseen, which is eternal. And through a change in perspective, I can see Heaven here on earth... at least for a little while.
Today marks Leah's one month birthday. I can't believe how quickly the time has passed! Now I see why everyone says that they grow up quickly. Of course, I have to confess that I'm actually glad she's reached this milestone; after all, everyone keeps telling me that life gets a bit easier somewhere between the six and eight week mark, and this means that she's almost there.
Here's a quick re-cap of her "achievements" thus far:
*can hold her head up for a couple seconds when forced to endure tummy time (and sometimes she does so without fussing!)
*doesn't mind having her diaper changed... well, not as much as she did initially
*is starting to sleep a little more during the day, though she naps best if she's held or napping with me
*is starting to coo... which I absolutely adore hearing!
*can quietly enjoy being awake, whether she's chillin' in her bouncy seat, looking at herself in the mirror in the dining room, or "walking" around the house with me or Scott
*recognizes Daddy and Mommy; often she'll make faces at us (whether it be a [gas] smile or making an "O" shape with her mouth)
Just when I think I have this parenting gig figured out, something new happens. Prior to Leah's arrival, I did some reading. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a planner, so is it any wonder that I wanted to know what to expect once she arrived? Friends recommended Babywise and The Baby Whisperer, so I dutifully read them and took notes. Well, I had decided I'd try to put Leah on a schedule, if only to maintain my sanity and to help me try to figure her out.
Ugh. That did not go too well. First, it entailed waking her up to eat at times since the books recommended feeding her every 2.5-3 hours. Second, I often had to wake her after she finished eating (she tends to fall asleep in the act), which in turn meant I had to find a way to help her back to sleep after her (forced) active time. Of course, neither of those seemed beneficial to her (and neither really helped me, either, since she wasn't happy).
So... after a long talk with Katie, I decided to try something totally different; I was going to "spoil" Leah (though Katie's words were, "You can't spoil a newborn, so give her what she wants."). Well, go figure that I decided to adopt that philosophy just as Leah experienced a growth spurt, which meant that she was attached to me literally ALL DAY LONG for a couple days this past week. Can I tell you that I was NOT happy about that? Just when she finished feeding, she'd want to eat again. I felt as if my body was no longer my own. To make matters more challenging, Scott worked until midnight Wednesday, so I really NEVER had a break. (SIDE NOTE: I have a new found respect for single moms. After all, at the end of the day, I have a husband who is able to help me out and give me a break. There's a definite end to being on my own; a single mom doesn't have that luxury.)
Thankfully... Friday finally arrived. Though the morning didn't start off as anticipated (Leah usually naps after a morning feeding, but Friday she decided to stay up), the day actually turned out quite well (translation: Leah slept long enough for me to take a nap, too). Plus, once Scott got home that afternoon, I was able to get a few things done around the house. (I know I'm supposed to take it easy, but in order to feel "normal", I had a few things that I wanted to take care of this week. Sitting in front of the TV day in and day out has simply gotten to me; I needed to be up and moving, taking care of items around the house.)
This weekend has been a refresher, too. Since giving in to Leah's "demands", she seems to be more content, which means I am, too. Plus, we had a chance to get outside to enjoy this beautiful weather. So... all in all... the more time we spend together, the more I learn about being a mom to beautiful Leah. We'll see what lesson this next week brings.
So, our adorable baby girl (note the bias) got me good last week. And, quite frankly, I can't believe I'm admitting to this, but for the sake of humor, I guess I have to relate this story.
