A Bit of Religion (God, Church, Christmas)

READ FIRST: These are all of MY thoughts, views and opinions. Please do not leave negative comments regarding my post because it is MY views and opinion, and I’m already taking a leap to get something like this into words. I know it’s a touchy subject, but again, it’s just MY thoughts. Thanks!

There is so much going on in the world. Egypt crumbling, Syria with God-only-knows (chemical stuff way too advanced for me), Chelsea Manning (formerly Bradley Manning), and let’s not forget the daily shootings in the STL. But, aside from all of that, Christmas is less than four months away! Yay!

If you don’t know me, let me fill you in: I LOVE Christmas. Love, love, love, love it! The songs, the movies, the decorations, and the TRUE meaning… Christ.

I am not an overly religious person. I’d like to be. I am not Catholic, but I thought long and hard at one point about giving up everything to become a nun. No joke. However, I don’t go to church, I don’t watch religious shows/channels, I don’t even talk about religion. Why? It makes me uncomfortable.

I want to explain that last sentence. You see, growing up, Church wasn’t a big deal. My Mom was Lutheran but hadn’t gone to church since childhood (I think). My Dad drank the weekends away (when I was super little) and one day saw the devil and decided that he would change his ways and he started toting me off to a Baptist church. I liked it; Sunday school, adult services, the whole nine yards. My Mom didn't go, but she seemed okay with that. My Dad even read the family Bible to me at home. But, for some reason we quit going. I don’t know why.

In middle school I befriended a girl names Cayla. Her Dad was a pastor at a non-denominational church. I started going faithfully; Wednesday night, Saturday night (sometimes), and Sunday morning and night. I graduated from the STARS program there. I went to church camp. I loved it, but I still never felt comfortable. Well, three years later, I met a boy and it didn’t seem like he was big on it all, so I quit going there too.

I met Gene my senior year of high school and we became serious and eventually got married. His family is Catholic and there was a lot of negativity about him marrying a non-Catholic girl. Shocked the heck out of me! We talked about finding a church of our own to go to, but we could never decide what type and Gene never seemed too interested so I dropped the subject. Then when I got pregnant, we talked about it again. I looked online for churches in our area, but it’s too hard to decide online. Forgive me if I explain this wrong, but here is what I’m looking for: an equally mixed diversity of race and gender, minimal singing, 1 hour or less sermons with a possibility of attending a more lengthy one once Emma is a bit older, and a family-type environment. Almost impossible, right?

Back to the issue. I don’t feel comfortable talking religion or worshiping God with anyone I know. Omg, sounds shady, right? Here’s my thing…Religion is so diverse. People take it to heart in different ways. People view what is “okay” to be different things. People worship in different ways. People sometimes shun others if they don’t meet their religious standards. People even mix religion and politics! Oy. Two things that should never be mixed because there are billions of people in the world and yes, there are Christians, and Catholics, and Jesuits (are they the same as Catholics?), and Methodists, and even atheists in both democratic and republican parties (forgive me if I didn’t mention your religion or political preference, they were just examples).

Anyway, I can’t talk about my faith because it pushes my buttons when people say that I’m wrong about MY faith. MY beliefs. MY views. When did people become so one-sided? When did who I vote for become stomping grounds for deciding my level of faith? When did it become okay for people to say “Oh, you’re Democrat? You must be an Athiest.”? I feel like gay men and women deserve to be treated like anyone else at church; how many others will say the same? I don’t want someone to tell me that I’m wrong. I’m not wrong. It is how I feel; what I believe. God judges. Not you. Not me. He loves us all.

Whoa. That got away from me.

Moving forward, I don’t feel comfortable praying or worshiping around my husband. Lol. It sounds funny to admit that. The church I went to on my own, without my parents, was a Christian church. They spoke in tongues, and they raised their hands and jumped around to sing. Hey, if that’s your way to praise, that’s great! But, I once heard my husband poke fun at the thought of that. He is judgmental in his own innocent way (he doesn’t realize it at all). But, that comment is burned into my brain, so I will never feel comfortable going back to those roots with him. I also noticed that he doesn’t like to talk about religion at all (I even asked him once if he still had faith because I wasn’t sure). So, when I pray, I pray silently. When I’m alone, I pray aloud, but when I’m home, it’s all in my head. I assume that God and Jesus can hear my thoughts… I hope I’m right otherwise they will be wondering why I prayed so little. In case you were wondering just now, I pray only about once or twice a day, but I talk to Jesus A LOT. For those of you that know me, would you have guessed that?

About loving Christmas… I can’t get enough of it! I constantly count down the months, weeks, days until Black Friday because that’s when it begins! No, it’s not about the gift… it’s about the whole picture. God. Jesus. Mary and Joseph. I love the religious aspect of it all. I’m not sure that Gene even realizes that fact. I think I keep a lot of it to myself because my Dad takes it too far. I guess I don’t want Gene thinking that I’m exactly the same (but I’m close). Why does my Dad take it too far? Three reasons:

One. Some of you already know this, but since I was in Kindergarten or so, I knew there was no Santa. Why? Because my Dad felt like he was lying to me. I’m pretty sure I told a bunch of kids and he got called to the school. I get it, I totally get it. Then, he decided later on down the road, that it’s sacrilegious to have anything with Santa on it in the house. I get that too, in a way. “Rearrange the letters in Santa and it spells Satan.” Well, for a long time, I forced Gene to abide by the same rules. No Santa, at all. It makes sense in a way, right? Well, now that Emma is here I’m faced with a dilemma. How will she make it through her childhood without telling all the other kids that Santa isn’t real? How will she have the same joys of sitting on Santa’s lap like the rest of her friends? I have some thoughts in my mind about how to handle the explanation of the true meaning of Christmas AND allow Santa, but in order to do so I’ll have to have the support of my parents because she spends the majority of her time with them.  That’ll be hard.

Two. My Dad has my Mom make or buy a cake (that she shouldn’t eat because of her gluten intolerance) so that we can light a candle and sing Happy Birthday to Jesus. Then after the song we must all eat a piece so that it will bless us for the next year. While I love the touching thought, and loved it even more at a younger age, I now feel that he takes it a bit too far. Lecturing us as to why we should partake and the repercussions if we do not. Again, I love the thought and gesture behind it, but to me it’s pointless. Maybe pointless isn’t the right word. Silly fits better because nothing for Jesus is pointless. But, it’s silly to me. It’s not really His birthday (did you know that?). He wants us to love Him and sing His praises, not sing Happy Birthday to Him. A cake, even if it is for Jesus, is not a blessing in my eyes. What is a blessing is having the opportunity to teach Emma about Him and let her grow to love Him in her own way. I’m trying to pick my battles though. But, the whole family-singing-thing so early in the morning is not in my comfort zone. Whatever. It makes my Dad happy, so I will continue to go along with the uncomfortable Christmas morning ritual.

Three. We all know the reason for the season right? “Jesus is the reason for the season!” Well, my Dad gives us a guilt trip for buying presents. I am almost 30 years old and I get told about ten times each year not to buy any gifts because it takes away from the true meaning. No. It doesn’t. Not for me. We are celebrating the season. We are having a celebration circled completely around the reason (Jesus). He wants us to give to one another. To love one another. Isn’t that what Christmas does? It almost forces us to love each other; to say Merry Christmas and God Bless. All of the hatred and anger in the world seems to calm a bit with Christmas. It’s magical. And it’s only magical because it is all for Him (whether you see that or not).

Now that I’ve told you all of that, please don’t think of my Dad or my family differently. Like I said at the beginning of the post, everyone views religion in a different light. He loves his Lord and Savior, he just does it in a different way than I do. The hardest part for him I think, is letting me go to worship and and follow in my own way and with my family. I was just simply trying to explain how and why I feel uncomfortable with religion in public and family settings.

With all of that being said, I now still face the battle of finding a suitable church for all of our needs. I want to find a church family to be a part of. I want Emma to go to Sunday School and Vacation Bible School, and eventually maybe even Church Camp. I want her to ask questions about Jesus and why we are here. About Noah and the dove. About the woman who turned into a pile of salt. And I want to share my favorite scriptures with her. The Bible can answer so many questions, and I’d love to be able to explain it all to her. But, I want to learn more myself. I feel like I’ve forgotten so much.

I just struggle with the thought of Gene and I going to church together. If a church has lots of music, will I have the nerve to raise my hands? Will he? Will he care that I can’t carry a tune? He’s my husband, so I shouldn’t care, but I do. I want the entire experience to me comfortable for both me and him. Is that too much to ask?

I could talk for days about this topic. But for now, I’ll stop here. Please send good thoughts and prayers our way for finding a Church that suits us, and I’ll continue to do the same. J

Do you have any suggestions for us?

Five on Friday (First Ever!)

It has been so long since I’ve blogged. Too long. I’ve tried a couple times to put everything into words, but it never worked. And honestly, I don’t think it’ll work well this time either. So, maybe I’d better so something my friend Liz does, and do Five on Friday. :-) This is my first one, so bear with me. I’m assuming it’s just five random thoughts… am I right?

1.       1.  Gene and I are having our August date night tomorrow night. We get one date night a month, which is basically Emma staying at my parents’ house so Gene and I can go out and do whatever we want/need to do. One time we went shopping (for Emma), one time we went to dinner and a movie, one time was the Casino, and so on. You get the picture. This month I have no idea what we are doing, but there are two movies that I want to see and maybe we will see them both! Wishful thinking. ;-)

2.       2.  I have High-Risk HPV. No… not the kind from doing the deed, haha. The kind from stress. There are more than 100 different types of HPV (and the shot only protects you from so many, if you were wondering that). Basically, the more stress I have/experience, the more my cells change in a negative way. If I’m reading right, that is why it’s high risk – because stress can bring it on at any time. Well, as you’ve probably already put together, it keeps getting worse and if left untreated it becomes invasive cervical cancer. I’ve surpassed CIN I, and I’m now in CIN II. Because it advanced, I now have to have surgery (called LEEP) to have 7mm or more cut from my cervix. Okay, sorry I didn’t give a TMI warning. I go in next Friday to have it done.

*I was going to put a picture here... but they were way too graphic! 

3.         3.  Since we already talked about item #2, I should roll right in with item #3 being STRESS. My Top 3 stress factors are, in order, Work, Emma, Gene.

a.       Work – No amount of vacation time could save me. By the time I leave I am in such a bad mood that it affects me at home. I can’t get into detail so publicly, but I’m pretty sure the job will kill me if I don’t do something about it.

b.      Emma – Any child causes stress. The only thing that stresses me out anymore though (after a year of Mommy duty) is her temper tantrums. We have a plan in place but it’s hard when I’m the only one sticking to it.

c.       Gene – Which brings me to the hubs. He’s the one who doesn’t stick to it. Lol. That is why he stresses me out. Well, that and his fantasy baseball/football/hockey/soccer/bad mitten/synchronized swimming/water polo crap. ;-)

4.    4.  Since the day we brought Emma home, I have had a good grip on my cleaning schedule. It worked for so long, and now for some reason, since Emma’s birthday party has come and gone, so has my schedule. It’s not that I can’t keep up really; it’s that I can’t stay awake long enough to finish! I’m telling you, after three nights of letting one or two things slide, I’m in a twisted downward spiral of clutter. How have the dirty clothes piled up again? How is there no table showing on the dining room table? I swear I had a can of fruit somewhere in the pantry! I need a day, or even just a half-day, to catch up and start over! *I cannot bring myself to pay for someone to clean my house when it’s small enough to clean it myself… if I can stay awake long enough anyway. Haha!

5.    5.  I wouldn’t be a good Mom if I didn’t mention one Emma item here. I have been constantly floored at Emma’s words! For those of you who don’t know, an official WORD is any word that a child says the same way over and over again, every time (meaning if they say ba-ba for bottle every time, it counts as a word even though it’s not a “real” word). Emma says over 30 now! The PAT screener Melanie wrote them all down, but let me see if I can remember some: Ball, milk, bottle, dog, duck, baby, doll, Spongebob, Bubble Guppies, hot dog, Mickey, etc. Also, she has two combinations: What’s that, and who’s that. The “PAT lady” was floored at the fact that Emma says “Who’s that?” when someone knocks on the front door. She thought for sure she could differentiate between what and who. Lol. She just knows to say “who” for the front door. Any other time, you will be “what” to her. Lol. Either way, combinations are big for 18mos-2years so I’m a proud Momma. :-) OH! We also have a 100 words book that when asked, she will point to a specific item or picture. To me, that’s big news!

So there you go! My very first ever, Five on Friday post! I hope you enjoyed it. I have no idea if I did it right. Haha.

Until next time!

Jenni

No-Bake Banana Split Cheesecake

No-Bake Banana Split Cheesecake (13”x9”) 
*My co-workers LOVED this!

2 slips of cinnamon graham crackers 
1 and 3/8 stick of butter or margarine - melted 
2 packages/cubes of cream cheese – room temperature 
1 can of sweetened condensed milk (new wt 14oz) 
1 tbs . vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste 
1 can pineapple rings 
3 ripe bananas 
12 strawberries 
1 tub whipped cream topping - thawed 
Chocolate Syrup (to taste) 

Using a Ziploc bag, crush both packages of graham cracker. Once the crackers are into crumbs, add all of the melted butter and stir until all crumbs look damp (should not be soaked).

Dump graham cracker crumb mixture into 13”x9” pan and using your fingers press firmly onto the bottom of the pan to create the crust. If you’d like, you can push some of the crust onto the sides of the pan up to a 1/2”. Place in the refrigerator to chill for no less than 10 minutes.

In a large bowl for mixing, combine the cream cheese, condensed milk and vanilla with an electric mixer on medium-high speed. Mix until completely smooth. Pour about 1/3 of the cream cheese mixture into the pan and spread evenly over the crust.

Drain the juice from the can of pineapple rings, and with clean paper towels pat dry each ring (too much juice will make the cheesecake fall apart after cut). Place each ring in the pan, into one layer, and push down into cream cheese mixture (after each ring is in the pan, almost the entire bottom should be covered).

Pour the rest of the cream cheese mixture into the pan and spread evenly over the pineapple rings (the rings should not be showing since you pushed them down).

Slice up the bananas after peeling and strawberries after washing them, and layer them each fruit at a time. For an example, after this step your layers (starting from the bottom) should be: crust, filling, pineapple, filling, bananas, strawberries.

Spread evenly the whipped cream topping over the top of the fruit and drizzle with chocolate syrup.

Refrigerate for 3 hours or overnight before serving.

Enjoy!

The Worst Day of My Life... So Far

So now that Emma’s birthday party is over (expect a later post on that) I decided that I would go ahead and write about the worst day of my life with Emma.

The morning of June 23^rd was a happy one. Gene was home (it was a Sunday) and we had big plans to do some shopping then go to the pool with Holli. Gene showered, I showered, I got Emma dressed, all was going as planned. Once I started to do my hair and make-up, it all went downhill.

I’m sitting at my vanity in our bedroom and I can hear our washing machine in the basement get off-balanced, again, and I call to Gene for him to run down and fix it. He was in the living room playing with Emma. He starts to move her to where I was when I yell “She’ll be fine babe, just hurry up.” So he did. And when he did, he left the basement door open. Can you see where I’m going with this?

I can hear Gene in the basement cussing away as he’s fiddling with the thing, and I’m yelling down to him through the vent to stop. Next thing you know I hear a little thud and screams. I say “Emmmmmmaaaaa, what’s wrong,” as I still sit in the bedroom. Then I pause and notice she sounds far away. My heart sinks. The screams get worse. I get up and head towards the living room thinking “please let her have just bumped her head on the DVD tower or something.” I get into the living room and she’s not there. I round the corner and the basement door is open. I start to panic hoping she just fell onto the landing. I reach the door, but there’s no Emma on the landing. I look to the bottom of the steps and there is Emma at the bottom. Sitting there screaming, staring up at me.

…………… Panic……………

I fly down the stairs screaming “you left the door open” but Gene didn’t hear. I sit on the floor and hold Emma, trying to look her over and console her at the same time. I’m crying and the world is a blur at this point. Gene rounds the corner to find us sitting there and he instantly knows what happened.  Next thing you know he’s screaming and a blubbering mess and I can’t think so I rush her upstairs. Gene calms down and makes his way to us and he holds her and apologizes to her over and over again. She finally takes a binky and then she looks like she’s trying to sleep. So, there it was, possible concussion, we’re going to the ER.

SIDE NOTE - Yes, I blamed Gene. I was so mad at him for hours. Even though the last thing he would ever want is for her to get hurt. Ladies, you will blame your hubs too if this happens, and it's normal, but make sure to apologize later. They feel just as bad, or worse.

I rode in the backseat with Emma on the way to DePaul. She was acting weird. Not all there. I started panicking more and there was no stopping my sobs. I let her watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on my phone, but she couldn’t have cared less. That right there was a big deal because she is infatuated with cell phones and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. 

Gene drops me off where the ambulances pull in (he didn’t care at the time) and I rushed Emma in. DePaul was better than I could have imagined for this situation. We were checking in within a minute, and by the time Gene got to us, they were taking us back. Mere minutes. I cried the whole time they asked questions, and took Emma’s pulse, and checked her lungs. She just sat there. Stunned. Out of it. We got back to the room and we no sooner than got her gown on and the doctor came in. As the doctor was checking her over, Emma started to perk up. :-)

They said that she was perfectly fine. She had a bruise on her cheek, a scratch on her nose, and we think she may have had a bloody nose for a second when it happened. I asked a lot of questions about possible brain damage and internal bleeding. I feel bad about it now because it almost seemed like I didn’t believe what the doctor was telling me. I mean, they didn’t even run scans or x-rays.

I accepted their diagnosis (nothing basically) and we waited our two hours (a precaution). Within the two hours, we kept Emma awake and she played and played. We felt so guilty that we let her play with anything she wanted really. Then, next thing you know, in the last ten minutes, she tripped over her own two feet and busted her lip open on the hospital bed. Oy. I did my best to keep her quiet and get her calmed down so that they didn’t call child protective services on us. I felt like we looked like the worst parents on Earth. But, once the bleeding stopped, I gave her a bink and she went to sleep.

They finally released us and we changed her and headed home. No shopping. No pool time. We were ordered to take it easy. Well, after her nap and lunch, she started playing at home and it seemed like she just kept hurting herself. So I suggested we go shopping anyway and we did. Best decision because she stayed in the stroller for well over an hour and in the car seat to and from, so she couldn’t hurt herself.

Yes, I did go to the rained-out Cards game with my Mom that night. Yes, Emma was okay. But I wasn’t. I was walking in a guilt-filled fog all day and night long. I was the worst Mom. How could I let that happen? Why didn’t I just go play with her while her Daddy did something for me? I was feeling as low and one could feel. I questioned parenting. Could I really do this? I bet my parents don’t think I can. Maybe they’re right.

It wasn’t until the next day, when I went to work, that I started to feel better. I opened up to the first person I could (who happens to be Suzy, and she's expecting her first born next month). I had to tell someone. And do you know what they said? It happened to all of them too. Either to them or their kids. WHAT?!?!?! I felt like it was a one-in-a-million occurrence! I’ve never heard anyone talk about it before. Why? Why let the other women out there feel like I did?

So, that’s the real reason for this blog. Not to show you the cute pictures of Emma in her hospital gown. Not to explain my erratic behavior towards protecting Emma now. But to let you know that if it happens to you, you’re not alone.

I took Emma in that Monday (the day after) for a check-up with her doctor. It’s a follow-up really. He said she did great. He said that it happens. He said that it’ll happen again. Ummm, no. I forbid it. They always suggest a “watch and wait” measure. When it happens, don’t panic. Go about your day as [almost] normal and watch for signs of lethargy, vomiting, unsteadiness while walking, and any signs of trauma. When they sleep at night, wake them every 3 hours (we did this too). It’s hard though because it’s your baby. Instinct is to take them in right away in case there is anything wrong.

So, there you have it - the worst day of my life so far. I hope that it never happens again, and I hope that it was the worst thing that will ever happen to Emma. Fingers crossed. Now, for the cute pictures!

Preparation

Wow. Next week my child will turn one year old. I will have a one-year-old. I, who would get grossed out by kids in my younger years, who never thought I’d rear a child of my own, will have kept my child alive (God willing) for one whole year (and hopefully each year after as well). Again, wow. I’m trying very hard to not get too emotional about the fact that one day she won't be my sweet, precious, itty-bitty baby.

Time is just speeding on by. Well, not all time; my time at work creeps by as if to taunt me. But, my home life and my time with my precious baby Emma just flies on by. It’s sad. Because of the “difference” in time, I feel like I spend double the hours at work over the ones I see Emma awake. When in reality, I see her awake on average 42 hours per week versus my 42.5 at work. Not much difference there… unless I factor in drive time, and time getting ready that would be much better spent in my PJs chasing Emma around the house as a tickle monster. FYI – she’s talking more and more and getting more active, so I may be just a bit bitter about having to work. Also, just to throw out there, her favorite to say is “what’s that?”

With Emma’s impending first birthday approaching rapidly I have really started to dive into party planning. Well, when I say party planning, I mean deep cleaning. While I’m not a neat freak by any means, and I enjoy my time with Emma versus cleaning BEHIND the toilet, I figure that I do have some friends and family (yes, Mom, you’re one) that will notice the little dust bunny that may be at arm’s-reach of one of the visiting children.  So, before my Mom comes over to inspect my house this weekend, I thought I’d make an attempt to get it as clean as hers. And before you ask, yes, Emma has taste-tested a dust bunny or two. I guess I’m a bad Mommy when it comes to that.

With all of the said cleaning and deep-cleaning also comes organizing, rearranging furniture, buying new furniture, buying storage to get us organized, etc. I’m exhausted just thinking about it because my house was apparently so bad that taking care of one task will just open up your eyes to two more. At this point, I honestly have no idea how we will be ready in time, nor do I have any idea how the three of us even managed to live there! You know, because Okie is just fine with the way the house is… considering she’s the one who will roll around in the stinkiest of messes outside. Ugh. Whoa! I’m not saying my house stinks – to point that out.

I have been managing to fit the fun stuff in too. Just this week I got Emma’s party dress in the mail. Long, but super cute. I also received the goodie bag contents in the mail as well, to which I put together right away. I ordered everything online for those and while I was super excited about my decisions when I made them, I’m questioning my judgment now. I always do that though so I hope nobody else thinks they are as lame as I am thinking they might be.

Still left on the agenda are some arts and crafts for decorations, I need to pick up a few more things at the store, I need to coordinate folding tables and chairs for seating, baby-proofing to avoid a hurt visiting baby (and lawsuit) and then lastly I will need to get the food and bake the cake and/or cupcakes the night before.  See? I’m not that behind, right? Or did I forget something?

Now, my biggest fear…. Nobody is coming. I’ve gotten only one confirmed RSVP from family for the party and they will be coming two hours after the start. I’ve gotten one maybe. I did have four friends with kids confirm they are coming, and three friends without kids. Oh, and my parents will be there. That just leaves about 30 (yes, THIRTY) other people pending. If you are reading this and you have not RSVP’d yes (or no), please ease my pain and text me. Otherwise, the party may be a dud.

Well, that’s it in a nutshell. I should see some family tomorrow for the holiday, so I will pester them about coming to the party, and if you’re a friend of mine you can expect a text from me next week. Hopefully I will have all the furniture bought and moved, and the house clean and ready for company. I do love to throw parties so I am very much hoping everything is up to par so that I can relax and actually entertain.

I have to keep reminding myself that everyone is coming for Emma; to celebrate her very first birthday on Earth (and for those of you who know me, for no scars yet, haha). People won’t be judging me for my bathtub being peach, the furniture not in the perfect spot, or my spare bedroom not being completely tidy…

Right?

Before Bed

What is the most talked about thing when it comes to babies? Sleep. When you meet someone new, that’s almost always brought up. “How’s she sleeping for you?” Haha. Well, I want to talk about what happens BEFORE bedtime.

Gene and I spend almost every night chasing Emma back and forth on the couch, getting her to push her walker, or doll stroller around the house, practicing walking (to perfect the art), and much more. Why? Not because it’s fun (although it is), but because we want to wear her out!

On the days my parents watch Emma we are almost guaranteed to have a worn out baby by 7pm. But bedtime is at 8pm so we still have time to keep on wearing because she WILL get a second wind if given the chance. So regardless of her daily activities, we are go-go-go at night.

Every other night is bath night, so those nights are a little easier to get Emma to fall asleep since she gets all warm in the bath, and then with the lavender smell of her shampoo and all. :-) We also lotion her every night too which I think feels good for her unless she gets too hot from it – you ever notice that? How lotion can make you feel hot?

Everything is the same routine as it always has been. The one and only change getting in our way is Emma’s height.

See, Gene and I don’t put Emma down awake. It never works. She’s too old now. It’s my fault… I should have gotten into that routine when she was just an itty bitty babe. But, alas, it is what it is and she falls asleep in my arms every night. Hey, if that’s the worst thing then so be it.

But, now that Emma is getting taller, the issue at hand is that I can’t hold her snug and now while she’s trying to fall asleep she starts kicking her legs and then since that wakes her up more, she will start feeling around with her hands. It’s frustrating because after just a few minutes I’ve got a baby who is wide awake again.

What do I do then? I can’t put her in bed awake bc all she does is chew on her bed. She cries and cries if I continue to hold her. Ugh. Gene’s solution is to give her another 2oz of formula to fill her up more, and it works like a charm actually, but I feel like I’m doing something bad when we do that. I normally just hold her really tight and let her cry off and on for a few minutes before she gives in. But, as she gets even bigger, and stronger, I feel like I’m in dire need of a change-up.

What do you do?