This is the first Christmas I've ever had with a grandchild. Woo hoo! Sweet little Paisley Grace arrived in August. I've been to two "Breakfast with Santa" events, sent a photo Christmas card out with a pic of me, papa, and Paisley Grace wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, and shopped for the little angel. You would think my cup runneth over with Christmas spirit. But, no, much to my surprise, I have no Christmas spirit this year.
I decorated the tree, baked and ate Christmas cookies, drank eggnog (spiked), and played Christmas carols. Still, no Christmas spirit. All my Christmas tasks were done early - shopping, wrapping, mailing. Is this the problem? Have I mistaken the adrenalin rush of last minute Christmas pressure for Christmas spirit? I've really down-sized this Christmas and minimized the materialism of the season. Have I mistaken materialism and a huge pile of gifts under the tree for Christmas spirit?
What is Christmas spirit anyway? Since I don't have any this year, I've had to ask this question. I have rolled this question around and around in my mind like I would roll a jawbreaker round and round in my mouth. Several times a day I have whined to God, "I don't have any Christmas spirit. Where is my Christmas spirit? What is Christmas spirit? And then I asked God the most dangerous question of all: "Please, God, show me what Christmas spirit is!"
A day or two after I asked God to show me Christmas spirit, a friend I hadn't seen in awhile stopped by the house. We knitted, ate take out and talked. I listened as she poured her heart out about emotional wounds that ocurred over a year ago.
A day later, another friend whom I hadn't seen in at least 10 years, called and talked about the heartbreak he was experiencing with his teenage daughter.
On Monday, I had dinner at Bonefish. I took a scarf I knitted for our favorite waiter, an FSU college student. Back in November, he had casually asked me if I would knit him a scarf like the one I was wearing. He said he would pay me for it. When I gave him the scarf, I wished him a Merry Christmas and told him I didn't want any money for it - consider it a gift for all the times he had taken care of us at dinner. His reaction blew me away. He was so grateful. He showed "his scarf" to all the other wait stuff. He gave me a huge hug, said he had no place to go for Christmas, and the scarf really touched him. He didn't think I took him seriously and never expected I would knit him a scarf. I left Bonefish in tears at the happiness he was experiencing.
Well, God definitely showed me what Christmas spirit is. My cup (in my case, my wine glass) now is overflowing with Christmas spirit. I experienced Christmas spirit each time I connected with one of the hurting people God brought to me.
Christmas carols, cookies, gifts, live nativity scenes, family, Christmas Eve services are all wonderful parts of the celebration of Jesus' birth. But I believe God showed me that Christmas spirit is in the meeting and ministering "heart to hurting heart" in HIS SPIRIT.
Be careful what you ask God for - He always answers, but never in the way we expect Him to.
I wish all of you a blessed Christmas and new year full of "Christmas Spirit". And whatever you do, "Dont Blink, or Paisley Grace Will Be Grown".
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Mimi Has A Meltdown!
I'm having a meltdown!
Paisley Grace arrives at 7:30 am and begins to wreak havoc almost immediately. She guzzles a bottle at 8 am. By 9 am, my little angel is screaming & I'm totally perplexed since she's fed, changed, and totally resistant to sleep. Out of options, I turn to the bottle (although I am afraid my daughter will freak at my desperation of turning to the bottle as a solution). To my surprise, Paisley Grace guzzles another bottle. Guzzles as in - drains the last drop of breast milk in the Dr. Brown's container.
I hold my angel in my lap & she coos and smiles and talks. I put her on her activity mat and she screams. I give her a few minutes to compose herself, but the wailing continues. I pick her up - she screws up her pretty little face and screams like she's being tortured. Now what? I try everything: clean diaper, rocking, singing, feeding, and the "well-then, just lay there and scream" approach.
This goes on all day long. What am I doing wrong?? Who knows?? I consult with Paisley Grace's mommy. No answers.
My hair is on fire. I'm having a panic attack that feels like a bona fide heart attack. I look around for help. I am alone, except for the dogs - who have chosen this moment to fight over a bone and are defiant and growl at me when I threaten them with the bark collar. I can't get any respect anywhere.
Self doubt and feelings of failure crash over me and threaten to drag me down with their strong emotional current. This doesn't feel good. I knew taking care of Paisley Grace would be fun and frustrating. Today is the frustrating day.
Finally, 5:30 pm and mommy arrive. I am relieved by a strong, capable woman who is 28 years younger than me, my daughter.
Today is just one day. Yesterday was a better day. Tomorrow will be a better day. Whew! I'm just glad today is in the history books!
And remember: DON"T BLINK OR PAISLEY GRACE WILL BE GROWN!
Paisley Grace arrives at 7:30 am and begins to wreak havoc almost immediately. She guzzles a bottle at 8 am. By 9 am, my little angel is screaming & I'm totally perplexed since she's fed, changed, and totally resistant to sleep. Out of options, I turn to the bottle (although I am afraid my daughter will freak at my desperation of turning to the bottle as a solution). To my surprise, Paisley Grace guzzles another bottle. Guzzles as in - drains the last drop of breast milk in the Dr. Brown's container.
I hold my angel in my lap & she coos and smiles and talks. I put her on her activity mat and she screams. I give her a few minutes to compose herself, but the wailing continues. I pick her up - she screws up her pretty little face and screams like she's being tortured. Now what? I try everything: clean diaper, rocking, singing, feeding, and the "well-then, just lay there and scream" approach.
This goes on all day long. What am I doing wrong?? Who knows?? I consult with Paisley Grace's mommy. No answers.
My hair is on fire. I'm having a panic attack that feels like a bona fide heart attack. I look around for help. I am alone, except for the dogs - who have chosen this moment to fight over a bone and are defiant and growl at me when I threaten them with the bark collar. I can't get any respect anywhere.
Self doubt and feelings of failure crash over me and threaten to drag me down with their strong emotional current. This doesn't feel good. I knew taking care of Paisley Grace would be fun and frustrating. Today is the frustrating day.
Finally, 5:30 pm and mommy arrive. I am relieved by a strong, capable woman who is 28 years younger than me, my daughter.
Today is just one day. Yesterday was a better day. Tomorrow will be a better day. Whew! I'm just glad today is in the history books!
And remember: DON"T BLINK OR PAISLEY GRACE WILL BE GROWN!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
The Baby Diaries - The First Week
Monday:
I am still in the lala land of sweet sleep when my daughter walks in with Paisley Grace. I look at the clock: 7:15am, and think: It's not 7:30 yet - our agreed upon drop-off time. But they are here and I stumble out of bed, eyes barely open and brain still very foggy.
An hour and half later, Paisley Grace has had her bottle and I've had my coffee. I'm human once again.
Mid-morning: I'm knitting to the symphony that is Paisley Grace exploding her diaper. Not that I'm not sympathetic to her needs; but I finish my knitting row before changing her!
Tuesday:
Was it the termite man banging on the walls doing his inspection or my attempt to have Paisley Grace nap in her own room? I don't know, but Paisley Grace screams all day. I cancel my afternoon appointment at Jenny Craig because Paisley Grace is not fit for a public appearance. Hair on fire and repeating over and over again: "food is not my friend", I make it through the day - barely. I am sure that in 2 short days I have totally screwed up my granddaughter.
Wednesday:
It's my birthday and I am determined to have a good and peaceful day! To this end, I do anything Paisley Grace wants to do. I carry her around a lot. I feed her a lot. I sing until I am hoarse. But it works, and both Paisley Grace and I are happy. My daughter arrives an hour early to pick up Paisley Grace and I am excited beyond words that I have time to shower before going out to dinner.
Life is different with Paisley Grace. Last year on my birthday I had dinner at Shula's Steak House and met Coach Don Shula who was dining there as well. This year my thrill is that I have time for a shower before dinner with the people I love the most in the world; my husband, daughter, son-in-law, and precious granddaughter, Paisley Grace.
Thursday:
I wake up to someone tapping me on the shoulder. I squint my eyes open just a slit and see my daughter standing at my bedside with Paisley Grace. Rut Row . . . I'm late for work. Stupidly I say, "Are you here already?" As I leave the warm comfort of my bed (it's 30 some degrees outside) my daughter hands Paisley Grace to me. I start my day exhilerated by Becky's faith in my ability to care for a baby while still half asleep!
To be continued . . . and remember, whatever you do, Don't Blink or Paisley Grace Will Be Grown!
I am still in the lala land of sweet sleep when my daughter walks in with Paisley Grace. I look at the clock: 7:15am, and think: It's not 7:30 yet - our agreed upon drop-off time. But they are here and I stumble out of bed, eyes barely open and brain still very foggy.
An hour and half later, Paisley Grace has had her bottle and I've had my coffee. I'm human once again.
Mid-morning: I'm knitting to the symphony that is Paisley Grace exploding her diaper. Not that I'm not sympathetic to her needs; but I finish my knitting row before changing her!
Tuesday:
Was it the termite man banging on the walls doing his inspection or my attempt to have Paisley Grace nap in her own room? I don't know, but Paisley Grace screams all day. I cancel my afternoon appointment at Jenny Craig because Paisley Grace is not fit for a public appearance. Hair on fire and repeating over and over again: "food is not my friend", I make it through the day - barely. I am sure that in 2 short days I have totally screwed up my granddaughter.
Wednesday:
It's my birthday and I am determined to have a good and peaceful day! To this end, I do anything Paisley Grace wants to do. I carry her around a lot. I feed her a lot. I sing until I am hoarse. But it works, and both Paisley Grace and I are happy. My daughter arrives an hour early to pick up Paisley Grace and I am excited beyond words that I have time to shower before going out to dinner.
Life is different with Paisley Grace. Last year on my birthday I had dinner at Shula's Steak House and met Coach Don Shula who was dining there as well. This year my thrill is that I have time for a shower before dinner with the people I love the most in the world; my husband, daughter, son-in-law, and precious granddaughter, Paisley Grace.
Thursday:
I wake up to someone tapping me on the shoulder. I squint my eyes open just a slit and see my daughter standing at my bedside with Paisley Grace. Rut Row . . . I'm late for work. Stupidly I say, "Are you here already?" As I leave the warm comfort of my bed (it's 30 some degrees outside) my daughter hands Paisley Grace to me. I start my day exhilerated by Becky's faith in my ability to care for a baby while still half asleep!
To be continued . . . and remember, whatever you do, Don't Blink or Paisley Grace Will Be Grown!
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