I am going crazy trying to find two very small pieces of gear that would make my life a whole lot easier. I can't find any trace of them online, but I KNOW that they exist because I have had one of each at some point.
The first one is an ingenious little chunk of plastic that I found in Akihabara, Tokyo. A week or two ago I lost (or maybe it was stolen) my small bag full of power cords and accessories. I've since replaced everything but this. I can't find it anywhere.
Here's a picture I drew that should give you a rough idea:
On Waiting for My Owl
My two little ones have had some strange health issues lately. One of them being late night gas. Doesn't sound like a big deal, but it's really not pleasant. When Noah had his episode, we actually took him to the ER. Just to discover that he had lots of gas. And then, there was the long night with Hope a few nights later.
Hope is two. She's 18 months younger than Noah. She hasn't quite developed the communication skills needed in a stressful, painful situation. When Hope woke up around 1 am, I found her heaving her body off her bed, rolling around on the floor, and totally unresponsive to any questions or attempts at comfort I offered. She would only relax to cuddle for a few minutes at a time, during which she was fast asleep and still unable to tell me what was bothering her. Knowing I wasn't going to be leaving a peaceful, sleeping Hope in her own bed anytime soon, I tried taking her into our bed in hopes that she would be more comfortable. But the pain kept coming. My little two year old girl thrashing her body from one end of our bed to the other. Knocking her head against the wall, kicking her feet on the mattress, and occasionally falling asleep wherever her head laid, whether that was on my pillow or on my ankles.
Without any obvious signs of sickness or injury, I thought maybe she was having night terrors. It was a terrifying thought. To think that a tiny little body with that small little heart could be experiencing a reality conjured in her brain that I was unable to be a part of. I was unable to tap into. I felt so helpless. I felt like a failure.
Sleep deprivation can make you pretty frail in a situation like this. After a couple hours, I just broke down. I was so frustrated that I couldn't fix the problem, even with my super-mom cape on. Kevin had been in the bed this whole time on the other side of me, and noticing my tears, took Hope into the living room to sleep with him. Eventually, the flatulence starting flying with Hope laying on her belly on her dad's chest, and gradually, the head-banging juggernaut turned into a sleeping little angel.
During this whole episode, especially after Kev took Hope into the living room, I knew I should pray for my daughter. I knew my first instinct should be to cast my cares to the Lord. But I have to say...it wasn't easy. My head was filled with cynicism. My body just wanted to rest. My pride wanted to figure it out and be the hero...the problem-solver. I heard myself questioning, "What's the point? Will it really make a difference? Does prayer REALLY change things?"