The Key To Soothe A Crying Baby: Scout Songs and Dancing Around A Room

I've had occasion to care for several infants recently.

Although I have a 10-month-old, it's always an adventure caring for someone else's baby. They can't communicate in anything but grunts, giggles, and wails. I know what worked for Charlie, but... he's his own person. And even then, his preferences and needs change so often, I'm still figuring those out. every week I seem to have a new kid.

So this week as I held a frustrated little one and did my best to feed him (that didn't work)... Tried my best to swaddle him (he kicked it away like a soccer champion)... changed his diaper (the screams crescendoed)... rock-a-byed (that was a mistake)... I finally got creative and started to sing Boy Scout Songs my Dad and brothers used to chant around the house growing up. I don't know where the idea came from, but there I was, singing "Well, I stuck my head in a little skunk hole" and "Scout socks they're old and they're moldy" and "I will be your pizza man." And I may have danced a modified polka jig while I was at it.

It worked.

So when in doubt while caring for a newborn, just go with it. Try the regular things to solve the sobs just for good measure, and then test your engineering and design problem solving skills (at least, that's what we refer to them as in the education world). Look at the problem from a new light and try something sporadic, untraditional, original, organic.

And that baby might just snooze away like a contented old gentlemen soothed by a symphony.

Comments

The Problem with Chick Flicks.

I really, really, really enjoy a select few movies that I willingly watch over and over again. Pride and Prejudice is one of them. You see, Elizabeth's defense of her family, her sense of self respect, her ability to admit that she was wrong and to appreciate Darcy despite all his quirks, and quizzical brow-ness... it's marvelous. My husband doesn't share the sentiment, could you tell? ... and that's okay. There's rare a chick flick I enjoy near as much as I enjoy Pride and Prejudice or A Walk To Remember , and I wanted to explain why. You see, there's more than just a few problems with (many, not all) chick flicks: (and if you have a chick flick that escapes many of these pitfalls then please oh please leave it's title in the comment section!) The heroine (or suitor) is less than honorable. I have a hard time rooting for a girl to get a gentleman when she's spending her time being scandalously loose with other men ( #thenotebook) . An...

Where's Number Three

A neighbor in her mid-thirties. A woman in her seventies. Their single commonality? They both asked me: Where's number three? I have a son, his name Charlie And then McKay, he's not quite three In my heart, both fit perfectly Yet others ask: Where's number three? Perhaps it's that I miscarried, My spouse's infidelity, The ache of infertility, A battle raging mentally, Illness on a crippling spree, Our family is complete, maybe. The reason's one or more of these, Yet you dare ask: Where's number three? In this question, running free Are judgements, jeering icily "You're not enough, Mik, can't you see? Buck up and give us number three!" I used to flounder, squirm, agree Or curl up small, cry, and plead. With time, I've seen things differently. I won't explain for number three. The questions of maternity Are just between my spouse and me And Parents, guiding Heavenly So please don't ask: Where's number three? Artwork Credit: Be...

A Year and 10 Days Ago

Dear Friends, Family, Acquaintances, and you lovely random passerby of the Blogosphere-- A year and 10 days ago I set out on a journey to write a blog post a day, for two months straight. I did that successfully, and then decided to extend my challenge to a one-year challenge. My report? I wrote 317 blog posts in a 365-day period. And I think that's pretty rad. A few reflections on this experience: Firstly, I started this blog not just because I love writing, but because I needed help. I was suffering from some intense postpartum anxiety, but I didn't know that's what it was at the time. Every moment of every day I felt like I was under severe stress and pressure, even when there were no evident triggers for such. The feeling in my gut on an almost constant basis felt like the queasy stomach, racing heartbeat, and unsettled mind that greeted me before every math test and job interview I've had growing up. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know how...

God is Good to the Johnsons

Search This Blog