i refuse to become a victim of fear

I had the flu last Friday, and had been up sick most of Thursday night. My mother advised me to sleep and not turn on the TV. Unquestioningly, I obliged. It wasn’t until late that afternoon, when I was on Fac.ebo.ok and saw everyone’s posts, that I learned what had happened. I have periodically wept quietly in little moments since then – in the car, in the shower, at my desk – anytime I was alone with my thoughts long enough to let the awful hideousness of the situation enter my mind. I refused to watch the news or even read blog entries talking about it.

It wasn’t until this morning, with my son at daycare and husband at work, that I was finally alone long enough to pour out my rage and grief to God. I thought, I need to know.

I need to know that I’m not raising my son, only to have him cut down mercilessly by the devil, who “…prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8

I need to know that no matter how long I enjoy life with my child here on earth, we will live out eternity in Heaven.

I need to know peace.

As if in answer to this silent request, my daily devotional yesterday reminded me that there is, of course, a bigger picture.

Proverbs 24:14 (NIV)

Know also that wisdom is like honey for you:

    If you find it, there is a future hope for you,

    and your hope will not be cut off.

The Bible – especially Proverbs – is very clear that wisdom is the most important possession any of us can acquire in this life. Not money, not a wonderful relationship, nothing else replaces wisdom. And true wisdom comes only from God.

Right now a fresh battle is being waged in the war over gun control. Let me be among those who remind us that, even if consensus is reached, the government cannot give us peace. Government ultimately cannot save us or give us hope. It’s not in their power.

Not all things are knowable, but hope is the hallmark of a life of faith in God – and is exactly what the enemy wants to rob us all of. The devil wants to replace hope with fear and despair. That’s why we have to be wise to his tricks and refuse to give in, continue to look to God for wisdom, and allow His love to cover our fears, infuse us with peace, and give us the hope that only He can.

God honors prayer. Pray for the families who now must cross oceans of grief. Pray for the safety of our public (and private) spaces. Pray for those who might become the next random victims. Pray for the minds and hearts of those who might become the next perpetrators. Pray for the chains of the enemy to be broken. And refuse to become a victim of fear.

John 14:27 (NIV)

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

baby food wars already?

I tried to feed my son some ground up beef stew. His reaction, if I interpret correctly, was "This is horrible!! Why are you trying to kill me?? I'm a good boy! You hate me and I'm going to diiiiiiie!..." or something like that. Sigh...

Granted, he's been battling a tummy bug since Saturday (though he's never been sick enough to take to the doctor), his sleep has been out of whack lately, and his appetite is about as predictable as Wall Street. I'm finally conceding the fact that he's regressed to an itty bitty baby that can't handle more than the most basic of food choices. Why does it get under my skin when he won't eat what I've prepared for him? I need to not take that personally. 

Meanwhile, said itty bitty baby was up at 2:30 or so this morning and, after listening to him cough and squawk for an hour DH went in to comfort him. I followed soon after and elevated his mattress on one side to help promote draining. Fed him a bottle since he'd only taken about half an ounce before bed (which he gobbled up hungrily), which sent him happily back to sleep. Sometime before dawn, I dreamed I was very good friends with Brittney Spears. 

I need more coffee now. 

trash bins and ivf clinics

I turned the local news on yesterday morning. Probably shouldn't have done that. One of the stories they ran was of someone finding a newborn (alive, thank God) in a trash bin outside an apartment complex.

Meanwhile, in infertility clinics all over the developed world, thousands upon thousands of women and men are crying, waiting, testing, and spending tens of thousands of dollars on treatments - absolutely desperate to conceive a baby.

Just what the f*ck is wrong with people?

Reason #367 why I cannot watch the news anymore.

Sigh... end rant. "A person's a person, no matter how small." ~ Horton the Elephant

more food obsessions

I think I’ve made some progress in feeding since my last post (for the love of food). The hungry bugger is chomping away at half a banana (which works wonders at keeping blowouts at bay), some kind of cereal, yogurt or pureed cottage cheese (plain or mixed with fruit, which I’m now trying to give in chunky bits – plus he can’t stand the texture of cottage cheese), some kind of veggie mush mixed with minced chicken (or whatever’s in the nearest non-fruit pouch), plus the regular four bottles per day. He also enjoys fish, mashed potato, squash, sweet potato, fries, tomato soup, beef, and probably some other stuff I’ve forgotten about. 

The whole-food weaning thing has been a mixed bag at best, so I’ve chosen not to worry about it. He’s great at eating banana right off the… banana (without me breaking off pieces), enjoys chomping on cooked mini carrot sticks and other little finger-sized foods. So I’m probably ahead of the game.

The only thing that has me flummoxed is the idea of transitioning him from the bottle to the cup. He doesn’t seem to care about sippy cups, and drinks out of a cup fine if someone holds it for him. Oh well. One transition at a time.

Now if we can just figure out how to get him to quit rocking back and forth in his high chair as if he expects it to start rolling like a shopping cart.

fear of flying

I’m not sure why, but I’m dreading our upcoming flight to Dallas for Christmas.

Okay, I might know a few reasons beginning with my past experiences witnessing others flying with babies. They are mostly not positive ones with wailing children and their horrified, exhausted parents who are the first to board, take the longest to get settled, and are the last to drag themselves out of the plane like haggard old pirates emerging from a dark cave that never found the hidden treasure. I avoided them as much as possible before I became a parent. Now I’m about to become one of them.

So there’s that. And, since I’ve worked so hard at establishing and maintaining my sweet son’s sleep schedule, I’m sure this trip will blow it out of the water. What with relatives, airplanes, security, big liquid containers, a makeshift crib-type bed in the same room as us along with a white noise machine, relatives, visiting and eating and drinking and sleeping… and relatives. What could go wrong? (insert hysterical, buggy-eyed, strait-jacketed laughter)

I think the babe will be wide-eyed with joyous wonder at the airport and on the airplane, since he’s such a social bee and loves people so much. On the advice of my sister in law, I booked our flights near his naptime in the hopes that he’ll comply and nap on the plane. No, it’s not the worst thing that could happen if he doesn’t sleep. But the minute we land he’ll be on his tippy toes playing with Grandma and being loved, cuddled, and pampered as any baby should be – which will be wonderful as long as I can get him down at a reasonable time.

The makeshift sleeping arrangements have me wondering which I’d rather pack – Benadryl (for him) or earplugs (for me)? I’ve been looking at those travel cribs (not the recalled ones) and wondering if that’s the way to go – mostly because we’re planning at least one more flight before he turns 2. Or maybe it's not worth it, and I don't give my baby credit for being adaptable.

To allay my fears, I’ve started trolling baby travel websites to see what I can do to prepare and avoid the worst. Now that I’m feeling a bit more mentally prepared, I’m fairly confident we can ride it out and I’m probably making it worse in my head. 

Probably.

Then again, maybe he won’t sleep on the plane, won’t settle in a foreign house, will be overstimulated by relatives, and will be cranky as hell which means we sure as hell won’t get any sleep for the four nights we’ll be there which will pretty much mean the end of all sanity.

Probably.