my baum shelter

I don’t think parents talk much about the downsides to parenting. And believe me, there are some doozies. So, in an attempt to keep it real, let me share with you our little adventure last night.

This week has been much crazier than usual. It’s Fred’s call week, which basically translates into single-mother week at the Bierbaum household. And, I had a funeral to attend in Oklahoma on Tuesday. So, Fred traded call for Tuesday so that he wasn’t faced with the prospect of having to take Walt in with him should he get called to evaluate a kidney for transplantation. Such a call actually took place Monday evening (well, technically Tuesday morning at 3:00am) just hours before I left. So, Fred was pretty tired from his lack of sleep and he was on his own Tuesday evening. Naturally, that is when babyBaum came down with a stomach bug. I received a call from Fred early Tuesday evening ~

Fred: Are you coming back tonight or early tomorrow morning?

Me: Probably tonight.

Fred: Well, our son has projectile vomited on me three times in the last hour and we’ve taken three baths and, well, if you wanted to come home this evening, I wouldn’t have any objections to that.

So, I got back to Fort Worth around 12:30am and found both my boys passed out, sleeping from pure exhaustion. I really have a pretty sweet husband. Wednesday began just five and a half hours later with babyBaum cycling through a pattern of vomiting, diarrhea, and sleeping. Fred cut out to work at the first sign of daylight. Who could blame him, really? Cut to last night – babyBaum has been in bed sleeping for a few hours. I decide before we turn out the lights to go check on him one last time. I open his door and am overwhelmed by the stench. I run back to our room and tell Fred that we have a problem – I think our baby has actually exploded his insides all over the nursery.

We go back to the nursery for further investigation. At first, we keep the lights off. babyBaum is still sleeping soundly, oblivious to our presence. I reach to pat his bottom and feel gooey grossness. I tell Fred that I think we are dealing with some sort of diarrhea catastrophe. I roll babyBaum onto his back and feel sticky wetness all over the front of him. I tell Fred that I was wrong and that it appears to have been a vomiting catastrophe since it’s covering him from neck to toes. At that point we turned the lights on and all I can say is it looked like our son had rolled around in a pile of manure. Really soupy, gooey, DISGUSTING manure. Someone had to pick him up and as I already had made contact with that which made me want to vomit, it was up to me. So, I scooped him up, covering myself in his waste in the process. And that is when the shit really hit the fan. Really, you had to know that pun would be worked in here at some point, right?

Keep in mind that Fred and I were operating on little sleep at this point. Words were exchanged in heated tones while babyBaum kept cocking his head back and forth between the two of us with an amused smile as if we were putting on some sort of show for him. I suppose it was better for him to see it as a performance rather than the reality that his parents were on the verge of killing one another. I don’t remember all the details but I do remember Fred drawing a bath and wanting me to plop babyBaum into it and me (still covered in fecal matter, let’s remember) suggesting a shower would be more hygienic.

Fred: It’s not unhygienic to put him in a bath.

Me: I don’t want my son taking a bath in fecal water. I don’t see how that helps our situation.

I then remember him launching into a scientific discussion of fecal matter being parts per million of the water content, blah, blah, blah . . . me indicating that I was under the misguided impression that you were supposed to avoid fecal matter . . . he might have reminded me that he was the one with the medical degree . . . I might have reminded him more than once that he wasn’t the one holding the shit-covered baby . . . then,

Fred: Fine, I’ll drain the bath and YOU can give him a shower!

And then at precisely the same moment, two things occurred – my eyes narrowed with a glint that said, I dare you to leave me covered in yellow, runny, DISGUSTING poo to deal with this alone and his eyes widened with instant recognition that perhaps he should’ve uttered different words.

Fred: Um, or I’ll help you give him a shower. Or, I’ll give him a shower. All by myself!

I mean, really, it’s amazing that marriages survive having children. In the end, science triumphed over irrational fecal-related fears and babyBaum was bathed rather than showered. And, yes, I had to hear the parts per million explanation in detail again and yes, he was clean without any visible signs of contamination afterward. (Though, I still had my doubts as to non-visible contamination, but I’m not the one with the medical degree, so what do I know?)

I know at this point, some would say things like, but then babyBaum smiled at me right as I laid him back down on freshly changed sheets and it made me realize that it was all worth it. But, I’m not going to lie to you. It was horrifyingly disgusting and no amount of cute smiles or giggles or angelic faces made it anything but. So, if you’re ever in need of an effective birth control method, you could always bookmark this post. If only I had pictures or video, or better yet, scratch and sniff capabilities then I really would have an effective means of birth control to offer you.

This weekend we received sad news of a friend’s passing. Though expected, it still broke my heart, especially for his beautiful wife and beautiful children. I shared the following moments with my son who picked, of all days, the day I learned of this sad news to dance his little behind off and bring me smiles and joy even in the midst of sorrow. No one could have explained this to me before becoming a mother – that even in my saddest of moments there is hope and love and joy that is ever constant in the face and life of my child.

So, for your viewing pleasure, here is my dearest baby getting his groove on below. We kept changing the station to see how he would react and these were his 3 favorites (Country, Rap, and Rock). Smooth Jazz and Inspirational music only garnered a puzzled look from him. What can I say? He clearly takes after his father.

Fast Tube by Casper

Fast Tube by Casper

Fast Tube by Casper

So, as babyBaum’s first birthday is fastly approaching, my thoughts have turned to the oh-so-fascinating topic of switching from formula in bottles to milk in cups. (All of my male friends and single friends just stopped reading this post.) Twelve months is the magical month where all the baby books and experts direct you to ditch the formula and bottles in favor of whole milk. For us, it’s not the giving up of formula that is troublesome; rather, it’s the whole letting go of the bottle aspect that scares the hell out of me.

When it comes to sleeping habits, we tried everything and I mean EVERYthing under the sun to instill good habits from the get-go. Ha! Just writing that makes me laugh at the naive confidence we once had. I blame the colic for all the poor sleeping habits that were soon in place (after all, it couldn’t be anything Fred or I did wrong!). Long story short, after about five months of cry, scream, repeat, we finally relied on every crutch in the book, including giving him his last bottle in the dark in his rocking chair to slowly woo him into a state of sleepiness. We have successfully managed to rid ourselves of every other crutch, save the bottle. And, it’s not just during nighttime that we rely on the bottle. This is how he goes down for naps, too. He’s down to four bottles a day and they almost all revolve around his sleeping – morning bottle when he wakes up, second bottle before first nap time, third bottle before second nap time, and final bottle at bedtime.

I just can’t wrap my head around sleep time without the bottle. I am pretty sure it is not going to be pretty – and I know we don’t have to let go of the bottle exactly on his 1 year birthday, but I really could use some advice on how to let go? We’re leaning towards cold turkey since that is what has worked for us best in the past with letting go of other things, but we’re really at a loss on this one. So, any advice from those of you who have been there, done that? Did you just pick a date and switch to milk/cups only, or did you gradually take away the bottle? Did you have a baby who had a super strong sleep association with his bottle? How did you successfully break that association? FYI, he has been drinking water from his sippy cup for several months, but has only ever had water out of it. Any advice is appreciated!

So, I still wear a certain pair of maternity pants as pajama pants or when I’m just lounging around the house. They shrunk in the dryer awhile back but are still very baggy (read: very comfortable), though they are a tad short in length. Not a big deal for wearing around the house but a little embarrassing when you forget you have them on, slip on your shoes and run to the grocery store in them. I seriously didn’t notice until I was in the check-out line. And, the whole white socks with the black tennis shoes? See, those would have been covered up if I had been wearing appropriately long pants. This didn’t happen before my foray into sleep-deprived motherhood.

I’ve struggled with whether to avoid issues of faith and politics on this blog. I tend to stir things up pretty easily without much effort and usually without any intention. Usually.  But, I’ve decided that at the very least I need to be as authentic as possible and the reality is that some of these potentially controversial topics are a big part of me. So, here’s what is on my mind these days.

I’m really tired of feeling ashamed to be a Christian. Over the past several years, when I meet people and topics of faith come up, I find myself clamming up, deflecting, or changing the subject. And those who know me will tell you, I’m not the clamming up type of gal. I am not ashamed of my faith nor am I embarrassed to publicly admit that I have chosen to follow Jesus. However, I want to remove myself as much as possible from the Christian identity that seems to have become the de facto identity in our culture today. At times, I get so frustrated with the assumptions as to my identity that I feel like I should wear a sign disclaiming what it means to me to be a Christian:

I love Jesus BUT: I am not a Republican; I do not believe gay people are going to hell and I support gay marriage; I do not secretly take delight when abortion doctors are gunned down or when murderers are put to death by the government – I believe all life is sacred; I believe in separation of church and state, therefore, I do not support prayer in school or government sponsored faith-based programs; I do not check my intelligence at the front door of my church each time I enter; I am not uneducated, uninformed, or naive; and I believe that everyone deserves the respect to find their own way to God if they choose. 

See? That would be a pretty big sign to wear around all the time. All these issues, and many more, are issues I might (okay, definitely) feel passionately about, but they are issues that don’t have any relevance to whether I am a follower of Jesus. My love for Jesus is just that – my love for Him, His life, His love, and His teachings. But, I’m tired of non-Christians assuming that if you worship Jesus, you must not be capable of thinking for yourself or you must be one of those extreme right-wing nuts who basically just spouts off incendiary rhetoric to make themselves feel good and others feel small. I’m equally weary of some of my more conservative Christian friends who assume (or insist) that my beliefs on every political, economical, and intellectual issue under the sun must match exactly some pre-ordained List of Christian Beliefs. If you are really a Christian, you must be a stay at home mom, hate health-care reform if sponsored by the Democrats, love health-care reform if sponsored by the Republicans, believe evolution can play no part in the creation story, and on and on. Who exactly penned this list? I don’t remember it being this long 15 years ago. Every few years it seems more and more mundane issues are added as essential characteristics of a true Christian.

 I am not casting blame – I mean, who can blame anyone, really? With people like Pat Robertson, Sarah Palin, and Rush Limbaugh being touted either as the voice of Christianity in America or as the voice of how you should think on all political issues if you’re a Christian, it’s no wonder non-Christians might assume I am prone to hating others and being dumb or narrow-minded. However, the faith of these people – regardless of how much they are exalted in the Christian community – is not at all representative of most of the Christians I know, even my ultra-conservative Christian friends. Yet, I am constantly amazed at how many times I hear a Christian friend or colleague quote and defend-to-the-death statements made by these and other public figures as if they are quoting the Bible, which sadly only gives more credence to the belief that we Christians are a bunch of silly things not thinking for ourselves and just repeating what we hear on Fox News.

I actually started this post back in October but  stopped here and never quite finished it. I felt uncertain about whether to be so public about these sentiments of mine. This past week, I have found myself repeatedly coming back to this post. Then, today, everything I came across kept reminding me that being a Christian is about loving others, period.  In today’s church bulletin, one of the thoughts for reflection was a quotation from Brennan Manning reminding me that the purpose of Jesus is “extravagant, furious love [and] [t]his, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian.” When I got home from church, one of my friends had simply posted, “They will know we are Christians by our LOVE” on her Facebook status.

 I initially came back to these thoughts this week after watching the devastation in Haiti and engaging in conversations with people who identify themselves as Christian but who defended the statements and sentiment of Pat Robertson. This week, I also read this article on Salon.com by a New Yorker who came out of the closet – the Christian closet that is - and finally admitted to her colleagues that she was a Christian. Though, our cultures are very different (hers an environment where Christianity is not the majority; me in one in which it is the majority), I related to a lot of what she wrote, particularly the last two paragraphs.

I have also found myself thinking through these issues because I recently started reading A People’s History of Christianity: The Other Side of the Story by Diana Butler Bass. In her introduction, the author recounts a conversation with a colleague of hers wherein the very educated colleague remarks to the very educated Bass how she is perplexed by Bass’ Christian faith. Bass told her, “I just can’t get away from Jesus. I actually love Jesus and his teachings.” Her colleague responded, “Jesus? I don’t have any trouble with Jesus. It’s all the stuff that’s happened after Jesus that makes me mad.” It’s a sentiment that I relate to very well. I think most people don’t have a problem with Jesus; rather, it’s what is done in the name of Jesus that turns people off. Whether it be how I feel towards divorce, abortion, capital punishment, or homosexual activity, I do not believe that Jesus calls me to politically force my faith beliefs onto someone who, through their own faith and journey, has come to a different belief and who may not believe in God at all.

Honestly, I don’t think Jesus cares AT ALL about whether America should ban the legalization of gay marriage or approve health care reform or whatever. I think He cares only about how we are loving one another – and, sadly, based on most recent political debates, I would venture to guess He’s a tad disappointed. 

My faith has taken quite a journey over my lifetime. In my youth, I struggled hard to fit every single issue into a neat, small box. All the non-essentials felt overwhelmingly Essential – Essential with a capital E and exclamation point, Essential! As time passes, I have experienced more life and my heart has mellowed quite a bit. I’m more at peace and I enjoy my faith so much more. This morning at church I recalled my favorite Bible verse when I first became a Christian. It’s the biblical passage that has always resonated the most with me, even in my early, very militant, fundamental years (in my defense, these were my teenage and early 20’s years when we all think we know everything) .

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:34-35.

Throughout the years and despite the vast journey I feel my heart has traveled thus far, this is the passage I have always centered my faith around. It is this message that pulls at my heart strings and speaks to me. Even though my Christian faith looks very different than it did 15 years ago, this passage still defines my purpose as a Christian.

My faith in Jesus may seem childish to some. And you know, I think it is childish in a way. Like a child, my faith makes me feel secure. It provides me with a purpose (say it with me, to LOVE!). I like believing that I am but a small part in this world – that there is something (Someone) bigger than me – that there is a meaning and purpose to our existence. I like believing that we live on after death. Ever the idealist, I love believing that the way I live matters and that collectively, our actions and words can impact the world. And when I read the teachings of Jesus and reflect on His life, it feels like Truth to me. That may sound like Pollyanna-ish drivel to some, but that is what resides in my heart.

So, please don’t assume that just because I love Jesus that I admire Sarah Palin or support gay bashing or think the woman’s place is only in the kitchen. That would make me sad. And, please don’t assume that because I have no admiration for Sarah Palin, support gay rights, and recognize that there are many, many valuable places for a woman inside and outside of the home that I don’t love Jesus, because that would make me really sad, too.

I have been glued to CNN this week and have shed a tear on more than one occasion this week while watching the coverage of Haiti. I saw on this morning’s news that $7 MILLION! dollars has been raised just through the American Red Cross’ text donation program alone.

So, I’m writing to encourage each of you to stop what you’re doing and donate now. I know we are all keeping Haiti and her people in our prayers. Another great thing to do is take the time to learn about Haiti and the people who live there. I’m not going to even address some of the horrific things that some Americans have been publicly saying about Haiti (in the name of God, no less) as I ranted enough about that yesterday to various friends. I’d rather just focus on staying positive and doing all I can with my teeny tiny voice (well, teeny tiny in terms of influence, not volume).

Organizations that I feel are reputable and feel comfortable recommending for donations include:

AMERICAN RED CROSS: Text “HAITI” to “90999″ to automatically donate $10 to the Red Cross – note, the donation is automatic once you send the text and there are NO FEES for this text. If you would like to text more than $10, you can do so here.

DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS: A fantastic organization that has already done so much in response to the Haiti earthquake. You can donate to them here.

PARTNERS IN HEALTH: An organization that works to bring modern medical care to nine of the poorest countries in the world, one of them being Haiti. They have been working for years in Haiti and are on the ground there. You can donate to them here.

Please do NOT donate to third parties soliciting donations on behalf of charities. Most of these are scams. It is always best to donate directly to a reputable charity to ensure 100% of your donation is going towards the relief efforts and to avoid scammers.

Other TEXT donation options available:

Text “HAITI” to “20222″ to donate $10 to the William J. Clinton Foundation

Text “HAITI” to “85944″ to donate $10 to the International Medical Corps

Test “HAITI” to “25383″ to donate $5 to the International Rescue Committee

I have been a very bad blogger lately and not for any real good reason. I’ve been very busy with a lot of little projects which have been eating into my blogging time. One of the projects I’m working on is planning babyBaum’s first birthday party. And I cannot believe we made it to ONE YEAR! Oh my word, my baby boy is becoming less baby every day. Someone at church this week suggested that his hair was getting long enough for a haircut and I swear I puffed up defensively as if she had suggested carving out his heart. Cut my baby’s curls? Surely, you jest.

babyBaum is still walking only if he has a firm grasp on a hand or whatever piece of furniture is closest. At Thanksgiving, all our family predicted he would be walking any day. Same at Christmas. But, there has been no change – other than he can practically run now so long as he’s holding onto something. I’m pretty sure he can walk without assistance but is just choosing to stay in his comfort zone. And that is fine by me – this is one milestone I’m not terribly anxious to cross.

Fred had a very rare afternoon off this week and we headed to the zoo. I’m still trying to figure out my camera and was pretty disappointed in most of the pics I took that day, but here are a few for your viewing pleasure. . . . 

This picture cracks me up – Fred was behind me (a little to my left), dancing and trying to get babyBaum to look up towards the camera away from the fish so I could get a picture. Can’t you just tell he’s thinking, ‘Dude, Dad – quit embarassing me!’ 

 Crawling in the Bear Pit. All my pics with actual bears in them did not turn out at all, so you’ll have to take my word for it that bears were actually present.

 babyBaum loved all the aquarium areas – he was fascinated by these fish.

 Fred and babyBaum checking out the jaguar and I know you’re thinking, ‘Isn’t that a cheetah?’ but Fred would be happy to correct you because he’s one of those people who reads every single word on every single sign when going through the zoo – which might explain why we are only ever able to get through half the zoo in any given trip. Me? I’m perfectly content misinforming my pre-verbal son that it is a cheetah and moving onto the next animal.

Okay, I now must log off to go watch Project Runway to see if Lifetime has ruined it forever or if last season was just a bad fluke. I will be very sad if Lifetime, Heidi, Tim, Michael, and Nina can’t Make It Work!