When babies don't sleep.

After a long night with Emily (she didn't fall asleep until midnight)  and a week long cough, we hit up the doctor this morning.
My niece and my babysitter's kid recently had ear infections and Emily was showing some of the symptoms.
Surprise surprise, an ear infection.

When's my sleepy, happy baby coming back?

British Hugs Heal

This post is another dream post. I remember so many of them l lately and I believe in dreams. I believe that sometimes they don't many anything, other times they can guide you, and rarely (for me) they can give you what you need.
To say things have been stressful the last six weeks would be a severe understatement. I've been working a ton of overtime and a lot of appointments for the girls and me. It's been expensive, time consuming and so frustrating. I've felt burned out, depressed and full of anxiety.
In the dream I was at my family Thanksgiving party. We sat down for dinner and Emily started to get really cranky.
I knew she want feeling good, so I took her to the office and rocked her until she fell asleep. I put her in the pack and play and hung out in the chair to watch over her.
A soft knock plays on the mostly closed door, but before I can open it all the way- in walks the lead singer from The Struts.
He's not wearing his usual glam rock gear, just a band T-shirt and jeans.
"I just got off the plane, the manager let us leave early. I came first thing."
I'm stumbling over words, mostly asking, "What are you doing here?"
He grabs my shoulders carefully and quietly wraps his arms around me in a hug that wraps criss cross from my shoulders to the middle of my back.
In that moment, I feel free and weightless. He picked up all the pain, hurt, stress and sadness with his arms.
As all good dreams tend to end, my alarm sounded.
I can't stop thinking about the dream. I wish I could live it.  It was perfect and everything I need. I imagine it's how you would feel when you are complete.

My dad hangs loose

When my dad passed away three years ago I wanted to make a difference and I wanted a way for my children to get to know him in a way. I just finished this massive book project with pictures, articles, stories and other things he created.  The thing I miss the most is his stories. I wish I could remember more of them. So I'm tossing this one into the world of the internet because it's my favorite.

When my dad was little he moved around a ton. His parents were divorced and his dad was int he military. When he lived with his dad in the summers and around holidays, it was usually near military bases.

When he was around eight or nine, he lived in San Diego.  He had a few friends in the neighborhood, Army Brats like he was, and they lived by a military dump of some sort.

This place was like heaven to my dad and his friends. They were eager to explore and some of the dumped poles jutted from the trash piles in odd angled that would be so great for hanging.

My grandpa wasn't stupid. He knew my dad and he knew that kids would be kids and they would probably go right for the stuff at the dump. Before he went to work my grandpa pulled my dad aside and specifically told him to not play in the dump. There were a lot of things that could hurt him.

My dad played like he was listening, but like most kids, he ran there as soon as his dad left for work.

The dump was like an old boat graveyard, with long poles and hooks all around that made for great playing. They would climb aboard and pretend like they were captains or seamen.

At one point, my dad got brave and started climbing along one of the poles. He stood on the edge and probably let out a Tarzan yell or something and he felt his feet slip.  He was pretty high in the air on the pole and grasped desperately in the air for something to catch him.  

There were two hooks along the pole, probably for hoisting ropes or sails. That day, they did an extra job and caught my dad by his wrist.  

So there he was hanging by his wrists to this pole in a boat dump.  His little brother was with him and immediately ran for help.

My dad described it so terrifying, hanging there by his wrists, which sounds pretty painful and not quite sure what was going to happen.

At that very moment, his dad rushed from work and while driving home he saw my dad hanging there from the freeway. 

My grandpa rescued him and he had to get stitches on both of his wrists. My dad used to show me his wrists with their matching scars as an illustration to always listen to your parents. They know what's going on and they know how to keep you safe. 

I usually share this story in church because of the multiple meanings from this story. It's really so relatable.  

As a parent now, I get it even more. Dave and I are like crazy people with our girls.  Emily is starting to learn to sit on her own, but she will never sit alone for many months because we always put ourselves ready to catch her.  Cami is wild and loves to run and play, "Not too fast, Cami, I don't want you to fall."  

There's this great song that plays on the radio these days called, "Cecilia and the Satellite".  The artist wrote the song for his daughter to explain the bridge from life before her to life after her birth. There's this line that always gets me as a child about my parents and as a parent of children, "I'd keep you safe. I'd keep you dry. Don't be afraicd, Cecilia, I'm the satellite."  

Sharp teeth and scales

I'm a vivid dreamer, both literally and figuratively.
I like looking back on my dreams and discussions I've had about them in the past.
My dad would find something in the dream interesting. He would smile, laugh and tell me it represented change. I laughed then and now because I don't really believe all dreams mean anything.
I follow the theory of dreams being random fittings in our brain or our brain presenting scenarios for us to figure out.
Occasionally, there are dreams I've had that are life changing. Dreams that I know were more than random neurons firing.
Last night I had my second dream about being trapped in a Jurassic Park of some sort.
The dream is never scary. I don't wake up shivering or scared to go back to sleep. I wake up stressed out, trying to compartmentalize what I just imagined.
So today I'm on hold with insurance company and I Google the dream dictionary for dinosaurs (feeling like a crazy person).
Here's some of what I read:

"The dinosaurs can also reflect older habits and attitudes. The advice is that you should not give up.

The dinosaur in your dream is generally a positive symbol. It may represent a period of time when the dreamer will confront his fears and empower himself to effectively cope with negative emotions and extreme materialism, and will obtain greater inner and outer freedom."

Without getting too personal, small dinosaurs with scales and teeth are answers for some difficult questions I've been battling.

Half a Face

I don't make this stuff up.
Today I replaced three old filings that were covering up problem spots that were turning into cavities.
My wonderful dentist, Dr Staley, was midway through the second shot of anesthesia when a song comes playing through the office speakers, "I Can't Feel My Face When I'm With You".
If my life had a soundtrack, no song was more perfectly matched to events ever.
I've attached a picture of my half smile, courtesy of like six shots of anesthesia.

Guess what? I don't love it.

Loafers and cardigans

I remember my childhood fondly. It was highlighted by fantastic public broadcast network television.
Those educational shows were my jams.
I grew up among the company of statement pattern sweaters with books and guided through the Land of Make Believe with Mister Rogers.
Today my life has come full circle.
I showed Cami the wonderful world of 1980's television, specifically Mister Rogers Neighborhood. I didn't expect her to watch more than five minutes. A skinny, old man singing cheesy songs did not sound like it would entertain beyond my generation. She finished a full episode and then we binge watched three episodes.
I love the hope and joy he brings to each episode, while pointing out that everyone is special.

What's your agenda?

My opinion doesn't matter and will not change the world.
My friend shared a very personal experience from high school on social media yesterday. The update bugged me a lot and not because of what happened, but the context she presented along with i her story.
I will try to be discreet because it's her personal experience and the topic is a "hot button" topic right now.
She shared her frightening experience with a political agenda.
I think she is very brave to share her experience, especially in a social media setting. I just don't believe it should have been shared with an agenda. My personal experiences do not impact large scale political decisions or law making. It felt manipulative and hollow when the two are paired.
In a social media setting it's like she stood on a wall and shouted about something happening that is sure to draw reaction from everyone and then tacking on a demand, "THIS HAPPENED TO ME, this horrible, awful thing... So, go vote for this person/law."
It made me think about my own social media posts. Do I have an agenda when I post updates? What's my agenda? So I'm going to flip it for the few readers out there, what's your agenda?