Update: Diaper Genie Houdini

After posting the story about Brynna's olympic level Diaper Champ flipping abilities, I discovered she had outdone herself, yet again.  I caught her as she tried to flip Aubie (her beloved lovie) into the diaper abyss.  Upon further checking, I found some cheerios and a toy had met their demise as well.

Brynna' s room is now closed for business.

Diaper Genie Houdini

For those uninformed about the specifics of used diaper receptacles (also called "diaper pails" because someone thought that sounded better), let me give you a quick lesson...

***The Diaper Genie is a trash-can-like device with a small opening at top just big enough to fit a diaper. You lift the lid, insert the diaper, twist the top and the Genie magically wraps each used diaper in a specially designed trash bag, containing the oh-so-wonderful smell of 20+ diapers.

***The Diaper Champ is another option for disposing of the smelly leftovers of our little ones. The Champ, however, does so by use of a handle and weighted shoot. You place the diaper in the shoot, flip the handle and the weight forces the used diaper to the bottom of the pail where it joins its other diaper friends.

Here's the bottom line - The Genie requires the use of two hands, special bags and a master's degree. The Champ is cheaper and easier, so the Johnstons got a Champ.

Brynna has learned how to flip the Champ's handle, so after changing her yesterday, I placed the diaper inside and let her do the flipping. Normally, I hear a fairly immediate squeal of delight as she proudly shows me that she did it her big girl self. This time, I didn't hear her. In the World o' Brynna, no noise is usually the first sign that something is wrong, broken or about to meet its doom, so I turned to investigate. Brynna was pulling on the handle with all 20 lbs of her being, trying to force the Champ to turn over. I had to help her turn it, but we eventually sent the diaper on its way and went on about our day. When the same thing occurred last night, I assumed we had a diaper traffic jam. I opened the Champ, expecting to see that we had once again reached maximum Pamper capacity. Instead, I found 3 unused diapers hanging out with the smelly ones! It seems my little Houdini enjoys the magic of "now you see it, now you don't" so much that she has been running to her bedroom and disposing of diapers in her free time.

After taking a moment to laugh and tell her no, I then informed her I'm taking the price of those diapers from her college fund. Diapers ain't cheap!

Our girls...

First came Imani MacKenzie Grace, my 9-year-old -going-on-20 goddaughter. She may be the smartest person I've ever met...and I've met a lot of people. She is not satisfied to hear a fact, she wants to know everything about it and then teach it to someone else. She was a surprise we weren’t planning for but has taught us all more than we could have ever taught her.

Several years later, came my niece, Zoe Regina. She lives up to my name in the middle of hers. She likes shoes and sparkles and all things pretty and pink. When a tumor threatened her ability to stand, let alone walk, she got up and tried again. Today, she runs and jumps and plays so well we sometimes forget that last year she lay in a bed unable to eat.

Last year, I had Brynna Grace - my mini-me, my shadow, my baby girl. Some people come into a room and draw attention. Brynna consumes every space she enters. She laughs, talks, sings and lives LOUD. She was born with an infection that made her unable to breathe and therefore, not make a sound. She now makes up for that everyday.

Two weeks after Brynna, we added Nia Grace and Nala Iman, my twin goddaughters. They are MacKie's little sisters and Brynna's best buds. Separate, they have their own, amazing personalities. Together, they can throw a party! Twins often struggle at birth; "NiNa" defied those odds.

This past Tuesday, our gorgeous girls added a new member to the group. Hannah Lynell is my newest goddaughter. Born at 26 weeks, she is the most beautiful 2 lbs I've ever laid eyes on. She has the most perfect nose, long fingers and pretty brown eyes. As I watch her learn to breathe, I can think only of the favor God shows us. He didn't have to give air for our lungs, but He does. And so much more.

We have often joked that to be in this elite group of girls, you have to be feisty (which is, of course, in no way related to the character of the mothers who birthed them). What started as a joke has become truer than we ever imagined. Each of our girls has overcome awesome obstacles. Through them, we have learned that even when life brings things you didn’t plan for, you make adjustments, hold on tight and let God drive. We have learned the power of prayer. We have learned how to support each other even from a distance. We have learned that sometimes you don’t need a million people; sometimes you just need to sit with the people who love you most and say absolutely nothing.

I am so much more than a mom. I am a proud aunt and godmother. I am blessed to be in the company of these girls, to learn from and teach them, to watch them grow up to be strong women. These are Our Girls and I couldn’t love them more…

Lady of the Night

We’ve had an interesting couple of months at Casa de Johnston. Around the middle of May, Brynna decided that eating was overrated, so she stopped. Literally. Completely. She would go days without food, drinking only Lactaid milk and watered down apple juice. Yummy, right? I quickly assumed my mom duty and kicked into "fix it" mode. The only problem was...I couldn't fix it. I tried every trick in the book, including taking her multiple times to the pediatrician and consulting another. They monitored her declining weight, put her on medication and tested for a multitude of problems (all of which came back normal). 

 Last week, she was referred to a specialist and had to undergo an upper GI endoscopy. The GI doc instructed us to put Carnation Instant Breakfast in Brynna’s milk to ensure she gets nutrients, carbs and fat in her diet. He went on to tell us that a person (child or adult) could actually survive their whole life drinking only this powdered drink mix. Upon hearing this, we drove straight from the hospital to Tom Thumb and bought a whole box. Brynna drained the cup of milk chocolate goodness so quickly that we mixed her another cup before bed. She drank that one as well, so we put her to sleep that night finally excited she was getting the calories she hadn’t had for weeks.

Brynna had been asleep a few hours when my family arrived for the weekend. Around 11pm, my brother, sister and I were the only ones in the house still awake when we were joined by a very short, very blonde, very AWAKE person. We consoled her for almost an hour when the idea arose to drive around and try to lull her back to sleep. My brother and I loaded her into the car, turned on the FC worship album that always soothes her and off we went. Before we even pulled out of the neighborhood, I knew we were in trouble. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Brynna bobbing her head and clapping to the music. We continued to drive, Brynna continued to dance, so we eventually gave up and went back home. The next 3 hours were spent watching The Show. Brynna ran laps around the kitchen and dining room, played hide-and-seek with her Uncle Bub and jumped on the sofa like it was her own personal trampoline. Around 4am, I finally made a pallet on the floor, where I had the pleasure of laying with the restless little monkey for the next 2 hours. Yep. She “slept” 2 hours and then woke just after 6:00 as smiley as before. A few short hours later, just as we arrived at the park to take family pictures, Brynna realized she was sleepy from her late night rave and wanted a nap. Maybe with the almighty powers of Photo Shop, we can manufacture one picture where she isn’t telling us all how upset she is.

So here is the moral of my story – there is a reason it’s called Carnation Instant BREAKFAST. Each packet contains 20g of sugar and 25% of the daily recommended amount of B12. Two packets of that would be energizing for a grown man. It is like speed to a 20lb little girl with an already-built-in tendency toward the hyperactive. So when you find yourself stranded on that desert island, yes, Carnation Instant can sustain your life…but don’t drink it before bed.

Pigtails

This past week, I put Brynna's hair in pigtails for the first time. I thought it was so adorable, I've subjected the poor girl daily to the scalp-reddening, face-lifting torture I hated growing up. As I wrestled my little ball of energy into the necessary leg hold this morning, my niece Zoe announced that she, too, wanted pigtails. And not only did she want pigtails "just like Brynna" but she wanted the bows and all. Now, I know what you're thinking...what's so special about two little girls and some pigtails? Well Zoe's is no ordinary head of hair. The Bible says that God knows every hair on our head. In Zoe's case, her mommy and I and her daddy and grandparents also know those hairs. We prayed for them and watched them grow one by one, a daily reminder of the healing work God did. A year ago, Zoe didn't have hair. A year ago, Zoe laid in a hospital bed battling a cancer that we all had grown to hate. A year ago, I painted her nails as they peeled away, a result of the chemo and radiation in her little body. That was as girlie as we got...a year ago. Today...she had pigtails! It took a minute for Vikki and I to figure out how to accomplish such a task, but in true Mom fashion, we made it up! And in my humble opinion, there isn't a cuter pair of pigtailed girls!

(p.s. - Sorry for the poor picture quality. The only time they were still was when strapped in a carseat. The rest of the day was spent chasing and otherwise torturing Zoe's little brother.)

Dance in the rain

With those who know me best, we say I am brown on the inside. We joke that inside, I'm a black girl, my outsides just got confused so everyone sees a white girl. This becomes glaringly evident the moment it rains. Most girls have those years between awkward and amazing when she learns who she is, how to put on make up, do her hair, speak respectfully, dress appropriately and ultimately become the woman she will be. I lived much of these years in the homes of my 2 best friends (who happen to be black)...under the guidance of their mothers who treated me as their own. So somewhere along the way, I just missed the fact that my hair won't do the same thing when wet that theirs will. While I don't think there are many people who love to get caught in the rain, I avoid it at just about any cost, convinced my hair will kink up and my relaxer will be ruined. The morning I wake up and see it's raining, I start rearranging my day in my head. What isn't necessary? What errand can wait until it stops raining? Things that were of utmost importance when I went to bed are suddenly negotiable; deadlines become guidelines. The past few weeks, it has stormed almost daily here in Dallas, and I recently realized I have been tense since it started raining. And I promise I'm really not dumb...I know my hair is naturally straight.

Rain is just not something I like. I could list all the reasons but you'd be bored, so I'll spare you the details. The bottom line is that while it is necessary, I would often choose to go without and allow my surroundings to be worse off than for the bottom of my jeans to be wet. Since writing the blog about my depression, I have heard from so many girls like me. Some have depression resulting from childbirth or changes in these wonderful female bodies. Some have struggled for years with what feels like unexplainable feelings. Some are sad; some are anxious. Some fear what may happen in front of them; some grieve what has or hasn't happened behind them. The bottom line is, it's raining. And when it rains, you can choose to stay inside and hide or you can choose to grab an umbrella and head out to whatever you had planned that day. You could even choose to smile in the face of something you don't like and dance anyway.

This is not the first time the figurative rain clouds have rolled in, but my response was similar as I have to actual rain clouds. I hid. I told myself if I just didn't go out, maybe it would go away. I was willing to give up seeing the sunshine to try and ignore the shadow of the rain clouds. I wished it away, willed it away. I wan't interested in any growth that could come from all of this. I didn't care that I had the right tools to withstand this storm. I was focused only on not getting wet. But avoiding the rain will get you nothing but dead, dry soil where nothing can grow. I began to see a break in the clouds only after I stepped out in the rain. I had to admit it was there and be willing to find someone with an umbrella who could help. Flowers didn't pop up overnight. The sun didn't immediately drive out the clouds. But I learned that I would not melt. I learned I would survive. Even if it never stopped raining, I would be ok. And eventually, I learned that this rain has made me better. And if you let it, it will make you better, too.

So all this begs the question - Do I still run from the first sight of actual rain? Yes. It's a hard response to unlearn. But it no longer changes the course of my day. It no longer determines if it will be a good day or bad. It is not the deciding factor in what I do. I don't have to love the dark days or call them fun. But I recognize the good that follows when I let rain do it's job. And for that, I'm thankful.

(So here's the bad news, girls. Finding someone with an umbrella doesn't mean telling your girlfriends all your woes. That's like running with your purse over your head. It will help for a moment but it's not the way to weather a storm. You have to go to someone who can truly help make it better. That may be a doctor who can prescribe medication or it may be a therapist. Or, like me, it may be both. That doesn't mean you have to do both forever. But you've got to let them help.)

What Depression Taught Me I'm NOT : Part 1

Here's the thing...I had a secret. I tried to keep my secret as long as I could. I worked really hard and at times, was quite convincing. I played with Brynna, had dinner on the table every night although my husband has never expected me to do so, and I filled my days with volunteering, working out, writing. I was so busy that at times I almost convinced myself there was no secret to keep. But there was. Even if I forgot at the end of the day, I woke up the next day with my secret staring me in the face. The thing is...my secret is...I am not perfect.

It all started a few months ago. I lost myself. You'd think you could keep track of such a thing, but nope. One minute I felt all put together and in control and the next I couldn't get out of bed. I was so tired in the afternoon, I had to lay down when Brynna. (Not in the "sleep when the baby is sleeping" kind of way. In the "pass out until you wake up to crying" kind of way.)  I was so uninterested in anything the day might have to offer that I decided there was really no point in us going anywhere. The grocery store became my arch rival. I would go weeks without grocery shopping because it just felt fruitless to spend the time and money when we would just consume all we bought and have to be right back there the next week. I found myself being fake to my friends. I've never felt farther from it, so I faked being myself.

After months of trying to keep up my front, I finally admitted it was all just too much to bear. I told David and my sister-friends and then I went to the doctor. I didn't know exactly what it was, but what I did know was that God made me for more than this. My cover was blown, the jig was up, my secret was out. Now I just needed to know what to do to get through the day.

For 2 months, I have been on medication for Postpartum Depression. Yes, my child is almost 16 months old. Apparently this crazy phenomena doesn't just occur in the days or weeks after giving birth. Apparently you can function as you always have and then one day feel like a stranger in the body you've known all your life. I struggled with the name. I have been through a lot of pain and therapy in my life but "depressed" was one box I never had to check. Now I do.  After the name, I struggled with the medication. Knowing you need medication to regulate your blood pressure or insulin levels makes sense to me. It was (and still is) a hard thing to accept I have to take medicine just to feel like myself. Mostly, I struggled with my secret.

The thing is...I never REALLY believed I was perfect, but I did believe I was in control. I believed I was driving the car. I believed I was directing the course. I, I, I. That's what I believed. But not anymore. Depression taught me that I am most definitely NOT in control. I can't get through a day without help. No matter how hard I try or how big I smile, I can't do life on my own.

I was so scared someone would realize I didn't have it all together. Depression taught me that I'm not in control. God is. And that's what He was waiting for me to admit...