Friday, December 31, 2010
We'll take a cup of kindess yet,
How do you spend the last day of the year? The day before the official beginning of a new decade...By cleaning up. By learning you haven't made cookies in such a long time, you're not quite sure what the dough is suppose to look like as your three-year-old looks on. By wondering when did your two-year-old learn to put her hands on her hips when she answers questions. By making your six-year-old write out his AWANA verses after he decides repeatedly the directions you gave were for the other kid who lives in his house named Jory. By putting up the new Christmas purchases in the overstuffed place known as the garage. By discovering - - SCORE! - - clothes the baby can wear in a container in said garage. By talking to loved ones on the phone. By joyfully never getting out of your pjs or leaving the house. Happy New Year!
Happy Sixth Gotcha Day! - December 30
Six years ago today, I was feeling a little down as I took down the Christmas tree and stowed away the gifts from my baby shower. But with one little ring everything changed. Soon I was showering and putting on my best Concordia sweatshirt (please God let that have been a sign from you that one of my beloved children is going there) and some jeans, then waited for my six pound two ounce baby boy to come home. And home he came with his incredibly beautiful, intelligent self.
On our fourth gotcha day, I was in Vietnam enjoying Layla but I had this anxious feeling I just wanted to get home. One, because I just wanted to take Layla home before the Vietnamese government took her away from me. Two, because I missed my other two babies. And three, I just wanted us to start our real lives. Our real every day lives.
This morning I thought today was going to be special. I always think that of birthday, holidays, and gotcha days that somehow they will be different than the other days, but nope, it rarely happens. It definitely didn't happen this morning.
Jory wasn't listening. Oma was playing the martyr. Then I got a phone call from my friend, Mellany, so as I was making myself a sandwich and the troops descended like they had never seen food before. They used my distraction against me so when I looked down my sandwich was a bite away from being finished and my coke was at the baby's lips. I decided to make another sandwich, while I talked on the phone, and made sure hats and jackets were on so we could go to our Gotcha Day lunch, which was slowly morphing into an early dinner.
I didn't finish the second sandwich or my Coke, but we did make it to the mall, exchanged some gifts, found Christmas cards at Target - - score!!! I didn't imagine this day to be so pedestrian. But that's exactly what it turned out to be. Buying Christmas items for next Christmas. Trying to decide if we should partake in popcorn since the nearest Chili's is by the airport and we were at the Fox Hills Mall. Ultimately I went with the popcorn. Then off to the mini-hellmouth aka Kohl's where I ended up buying Christmas earrings that would be noticed. And from there we went to Chili's making it right before the dinner rush began.
As we sat in the booth, I thought this wasn't how I imagined or wanted this day to go but it was exactly the day I always wanted from the day Jory came home. When Jory came home, my mind was already processing when his sister and other siblings would come home. (I like to plan ahead.) While I was enjoying my newborn, I didn't completely understand what I was asking for or the world I was entering.
It wasn't a world of cute babies who turn into obedient toddlers turn children turn teens. What I was asking for was for the everyday-ness of it all. Where I ponder deep questions like, if I give them one bag of popcorn to share would they still eat dinner? But the ride from Culver City to the airport is pretty far so maybe I should get the popcorn?
Then after the popcorn was purchased and Jory was made the holder of the bag, the job became making sure he shared the popcorn equally with his sisters and not allowing him to withhold giving any until he deemed them worthy to have some.
It was stopping Rowan from saying too loudly that the boy in front of us needed a belt on because his pants were falling and she could see his underwear. It was not strapping the baby down in the stroller so at the first mall line, she made a bolt for it, laughing all the way, which then made her brother take off after her, and making me send him back to Oma, while I grabbed his sister.
It was going over the menu and praying everyone would order something other than a cheeseburger. I'll take only one out of three. It was being nervous every time the baby took a bite of her corn on the cob (I didn't let on that french fries was a side order option) because I feared it would fall to the ground since her high chair didn't allow her to be flush against the table.
The everyday-ness is wondering if all six-year-old boys are this silly and how the constant silliness might drive me bananas. It was stopping Rowan from standing up at the table and trying to talk to the neighbors around us who were just trying to eat. It was trying to stop the baby from taking Oma's fries and ignoring her "innocent" inquiries into the sodas that sat on the table in front of her.
This is the world that on December 30, 2004 that Jory introduced me to. A world not for the faint of heart, not for the weak, not for the dazzled by a cute smile, kisses, hugs, and words of want and love. But a world of love, discipline, smiles, tears, frustration, whining, sharing, hugging, kissing. A world where you learn a six-year-old and a three-year-old are not old enough to sit next to each other in a car on a day to day basis.
Thank you, Jory, for bringing me into this world, for being the second greatest Christmas present ever, for the hugs, the declarations of love, the kisses, the comfort, the headaches, the frustration, for the questioning of my sanity, for the every day glimpses of God's love and His love to me, for being patient as we travel down this road called child and parenthood with seemingly no instructions, for being a roll with the punches baby and kid, for opening your heart and arms to not one but four sisters in your six years, for being just the all around greatest son a mom could ask for. And to be honest, I didn't ask for you because my mind wouldn't have allowed me to ask for a son as great as you. Praise God for knowing exactly what we need.
I am hopelessly and madly in love with you. I am proud to be your mommy. Every day, I thank God for you. I pray for your future, for wisdom to rear you, for your future wife/my future daughter. If you don't get another sister, I'm seriously considering nicknaming your wife, Tatum, just a little FYI there.
I can't believe it's been six years already. Sometimes it seems much shorter and other days it's like we've been together for a million years and I'll bet we'll be together for a million more for it's like I started breathing on the day we met and I can't remember what I ever did before. And there ain't no nothing we can't love each other through...Life before Jory - - fun, life after Jory - - priceless.
On our fourth gotcha day, I was in Vietnam enjoying Layla but I had this anxious feeling I just wanted to get home. One, because I just wanted to take Layla home before the Vietnamese government took her away from me. Two, because I missed my other two babies. And three, I just wanted us to start our real lives. Our real every day lives.
This morning I thought today was going to be special. I always think that of birthday, holidays, and gotcha days that somehow they will be different than the other days, but nope, it rarely happens. It definitely didn't happen this morning.
Jory wasn't listening. Oma was playing the martyr. Then I got a phone call from my friend, Mellany, so as I was making myself a sandwich and the troops descended like they had never seen food before. They used my distraction against me so when I looked down my sandwich was a bite away from being finished and my coke was at the baby's lips. I decided to make another sandwich, while I talked on the phone, and made sure hats and jackets were on so we could go to our Gotcha Day lunch, which was slowly morphing into an early dinner.
I didn't finish the second sandwich or my Coke, but we did make it to the mall, exchanged some gifts, found Christmas cards at Target - - score!!! I didn't imagine this day to be so pedestrian. But that's exactly what it turned out to be. Buying Christmas items for next Christmas. Trying to decide if we should partake in popcorn since the nearest Chili's is by the airport and we were at the Fox Hills Mall. Ultimately I went with the popcorn. Then off to the mini-hellmouth aka Kohl's where I ended up buying Christmas earrings that would be noticed. And from there we went to Chili's making it right before the dinner rush began.
As we sat in the booth, I thought this wasn't how I imagined or wanted this day to go but it was exactly the day I always wanted from the day Jory came home. When Jory came home, my mind was already processing when his sister and other siblings would come home. (I like to plan ahead.) While I was enjoying my newborn, I didn't completely understand what I was asking for or the world I was entering.
It wasn't a world of cute babies who turn into obedient toddlers turn children turn teens. What I was asking for was for the everyday-ness of it all. Where I ponder deep questions like, if I give them one bag of popcorn to share would they still eat dinner? But the ride from Culver City to the airport is pretty far so maybe I should get the popcorn?
Then after the popcorn was purchased and Jory was made the holder of the bag, the job became making sure he shared the popcorn equally with his sisters and not allowing him to withhold giving any until he deemed them worthy to have some.
It was stopping Rowan from saying too loudly that the boy in front of us needed a belt on because his pants were falling and she could see his underwear. It was not strapping the baby down in the stroller so at the first mall line, she made a bolt for it, laughing all the way, which then made her brother take off after her, and making me send him back to Oma, while I grabbed his sister.
It was going over the menu and praying everyone would order something other than a cheeseburger. I'll take only one out of three. It was being nervous every time the baby took a bite of her corn on the cob (I didn't let on that french fries was a side order option) because I feared it would fall to the ground since her high chair didn't allow her to be flush against the table.
The everyday-ness is wondering if all six-year-old boys are this silly and how the constant silliness might drive me bananas. It was stopping Rowan from standing up at the table and trying to talk to the neighbors around us who were just trying to eat. It was trying to stop the baby from taking Oma's fries and ignoring her "innocent" inquiries into the sodas that sat on the table in front of her.
This is the world that on December 30, 2004 that Jory introduced me to. A world not for the faint of heart, not for the weak, not for the dazzled by a cute smile, kisses, hugs, and words of want and love. But a world of love, discipline, smiles, tears, frustration, whining, sharing, hugging, kissing. A world where you learn a six-year-old and a three-year-old are not old enough to sit next to each other in a car on a day to day basis.
Thank you, Jory, for bringing me into this world, for being the second greatest Christmas present ever, for the hugs, the declarations of love, the kisses, the comfort, the headaches, the frustration, for the questioning of my sanity, for the every day glimpses of God's love and His love to me, for being patient as we travel down this road called child and parenthood with seemingly no instructions, for being a roll with the punches baby and kid, for opening your heart and arms to not one but four sisters in your six years, for being just the all around greatest son a mom could ask for. And to be honest, I didn't ask for you because my mind wouldn't have allowed me to ask for a son as great as you. Praise God for knowing exactly what we need.
I am hopelessly and madly in love with you. I am proud to be your mommy. Every day, I thank God for you. I pray for your future, for wisdom to rear you, for your future wife/my future daughter. If you don't get another sister, I'm seriously considering nicknaming your wife, Tatum, just a little FYI there.
I can't believe it's been six years already. Sometimes it seems much shorter and other days it's like we've been together for a million years and I'll bet we'll be together for a million more for it's like I started breathing on the day we met and I can't remember what I ever did before. And there ain't no nothing we can't love each other through...Life before Jory - - fun, life after Jory - - priceless.
Happy Second Gotcha Day! - December 29
"Mommy, where's Oma's glasses?"
"Layla, that's mommy's eyeglass case not Oma's."
"Oh," she paused, holding the blue case. "Mommy, watch me. I show you."
I turned to look at her as she opened the eyeglass case.
"I big girl," she stated, extremely proud of her accomplishment.
"Yes, you are a big girl."
"Mommy, I show you. I open it," she said, as she closed the case.
"Watch, Mommy, me close it," she commanded as she opened the case, smiling gleefully.
"Baby, you opened it, not closed it. Can I have my case back?"
"Mine."
"No, it's not yours. It's mine. Hand it to, Mommy."
"Mine," she declared, holding the case next to her body.
Thus began gotcha day year two. Who knew as she crawled around our bed in Saigon and later in Hanoi that it would lead to all of this.
Two years ago, she was a tiny eleven-month-old fitting into some three to six month clothing. She sat up, but not as well as someone her age should. And now she's an on-target two-year-old who runs, jumps off counters and sofas, and thinks the world revolves around her.
Two years ago, Layla was a baby who couldn't dress herself. Though the more I think about it, the more I think I was being conned. How is it that you're dressed for the first eleven months of your life, yet when you get with your mommy you don't even know how to raise your arms to take onesies and shirts off? Really?! But we won't go there.
She couldn't dress herself or help me dress her and now, now I hear.
"I do it myself." As she puts her undershirt on backwards.
"No, I do it myself," she shouts as she tries to pull her socks up and turn them down, like she sees her big sister do.
Two years ago, I received Layla's schedule. Once again, I think someone was pulling a fast one on me. Eleven months on the same schedule, yet within less than 24 hours of togetherness Layls was like schedule (pronounced the Canadian way)? What's a schedule? Schedules are for babies. I'm staying up all night with my mommy.
At the bottom of her schedule was a note and it mentioned she was naughty. For the longest time, I didn't know what that meant. Someone suggested that the Vietnamese definition of naughtiness might differ from ours. I liked that answer because my baby wasn't naughty. Two years later, my baby still isn't naughty. Strong-willed, bossy, into everything, doesn't recognize her name, sometimes has a hearing problem, and can't follow simple instructions like, "Put the tape back." Or "Close the drawer." but never naughty.
I never thought I would be saying to a two-year-old, "Get that look off your face." "Don't give me that look." If she knew how to roll her eyes, she'd be doing it.
"Layla, pick up your doll."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
Sometimes I find myself asking, can two-year-olds smoke crack? Because my baby can be something else.
Two years ago, I was chewing my baby's food since she had no teeth and now...
"Some?" Layla's short hand for "May I have some of your food, please."
"No." You got the wrong woman, I am not Oma.
"Share."
"We can't share because it's mine."
"Mommy, we share."
Funny how she only wants to share, when it's not her food.
Two years ago in Old Town, I carried my baby and declared my love for her. Or declared my love for her sister. I guess it depends on how you see it. But I was declaring my love for my baby, while getting her use to being called by her sister's name. Had I been thinking, I would have repeated my sentence using her brother's name so she could get use to being called by their names. Either way the woman who made that declaration didn't love that baby nearly as much as I love my brown haired, brown eyed girl. And the woman I am today doesn't love my baby as much as the woman I will be five years from now will. As I learn more about her, I love her more. To know her is to love her.
You know what's so incredibly amazing is the mercy, grace, and strength God granted one eleven-month-old baby two years ago. A baby, who lost the only home she knew, the only family she knew, was introduced to a new language, new smells, new clothes, new formula, new foods, new beds, was given a mother who believed in for a penny, in for a pound, first car rides, first walking tours of Vietnam, first plane rides, first restaurant experiences, flew for endless hours with a double ear infection barely making a fuss, met Oma, her brother, her sister, her new home still having the infection for another two days until her mommy took her to the doctor, handled it all like it was an every day occurance. Doesn't everyone meet a chick for like an hour one night, then the next morning become legally bound to the woman and spend the rest of your life with the chick? It happens all the time in Vegas. I am in awe of that amazing baby. I am in awe of how God prepared her. How He gave me this baby who still to this day rolls with the punches and is down for whatever.
When we went to the office to introduce everyone to the terrific trio, my friend, Joe, told me later that he could see with us only being together a few weeks that Layla was bonded to me. To hear him say those words made my heart rejoice. I couldn't see it myself, I think I was in the haze of having twins and three kids. Now it's hard to believe it took me twelve hours to coax my first smile out of her, particularly when I hear,
"Mommy!" shouted.
"Mommy," stated.
"Mommy," cried.
"Mommy," giggled.
"Mommy," whined.
"Layla, no whining."
"Mommy, I not whining," she whines.
"Mommy," smiled.
In two years, one thing hasn't changed. She's still my human lojac. Still keyed into me. Still knows when not to push it like last year at Disneyland.
As she finished barfing in the flowers as we waited to get on Dumbo, I gave her a look which she rightly interpreted to mean Mommy has spent way too much money for you to get sick. So either get better or I'm calling Aunt Dee Dee to come pick you up while your brother, sister, and I "enjoy" the anti-christ in amusement park form. She miraculously got better though I did have to carry her around the park for the rest of the day. I knew I should have brought the Baby Bjorn.
Two years went by in the blink of an eye. Layla, I love you. I adore you. And the seemingly endless years I waited for Vietnam to reopen their doors so I could adopt you, were all worth the wait and were necessary for us to be together. For you to call me, "Mommy," and for me to call you, "Baby." And for you to have "your Oma," "
your Jory," and "your Roro."
Baby, I could have never have prayed for a baby as wonderful, smart, loving, and as beautiful as you. To quote the greatest group ever, our God is always working.
"Layla, that's mommy's eyeglass case not Oma's."
"Oh," she paused, holding the blue case. "Mommy, watch me. I show you."
I turned to look at her as she opened the eyeglass case.
"I big girl," she stated, extremely proud of her accomplishment.
"Yes, you are a big girl."
"Mommy, I show you. I open it," she said, as she closed the case.
"Watch, Mommy, me close it," she commanded as she opened the case, smiling gleefully.
"Baby, you opened it, not closed it. Can I have my case back?"
"Mine."
"No, it's not yours. It's mine. Hand it to, Mommy."
"Mine," she declared, holding the case next to her body.
Thus began gotcha day year two. Who knew as she crawled around our bed in Saigon and later in Hanoi that it would lead to all of this.
Two years ago, she was a tiny eleven-month-old fitting into some three to six month clothing. She sat up, but not as well as someone her age should. And now she's an on-target two-year-old who runs, jumps off counters and sofas, and thinks the world revolves around her.
Two years ago, Layla was a baby who couldn't dress herself. Though the more I think about it, the more I think I was being conned. How is it that you're dressed for the first eleven months of your life, yet when you get with your mommy you don't even know how to raise your arms to take onesies and shirts off? Really?! But we won't go there.
She couldn't dress herself or help me dress her and now, now I hear.
"I do it myself." As she puts her undershirt on backwards.
"No, I do it myself," she shouts as she tries to pull her socks up and turn them down, like she sees her big sister do.
Two years ago, I received Layla's schedule. Once again, I think someone was pulling a fast one on me. Eleven months on the same schedule, yet within less than 24 hours of togetherness Layls was like schedule (pronounced the Canadian way)? What's a schedule? Schedules are for babies. I'm staying up all night with my mommy.
At the bottom of her schedule was a note and it mentioned she was naughty. For the longest time, I didn't know what that meant. Someone suggested that the Vietnamese definition of naughtiness might differ from ours. I liked that answer because my baby wasn't naughty. Two years later, my baby still isn't naughty. Strong-willed, bossy, into everything, doesn't recognize her name, sometimes has a hearing problem, and can't follow simple instructions like, "Put the tape back." Or "Close the drawer." but never naughty.
I never thought I would be saying to a two-year-old, "Get that look off your face." "Don't give me that look." If she knew how to roll her eyes, she'd be doing it.
"Layla, pick up your doll."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
Sometimes I find myself asking, can two-year-olds smoke crack? Because my baby can be something else.
Two years ago, I was chewing my baby's food since she had no teeth and now...
"Some?" Layla's short hand for "May I have some of your food, please."
"No." You got the wrong woman, I am not Oma.
"Share."
"We can't share because it's mine."
"Mommy, we share."
Funny how she only wants to share, when it's not her food.
Two years ago in Old Town, I carried my baby and declared my love for her. Or declared my love for her sister. I guess it depends on how you see it. But I was declaring my love for my baby, while getting her use to being called by her sister's name. Had I been thinking, I would have repeated my sentence using her brother's name so she could get use to being called by their names. Either way the woman who made that declaration didn't love that baby nearly as much as I love my brown haired, brown eyed girl. And the woman I am today doesn't love my baby as much as the woman I will be five years from now will. As I learn more about her, I love her more. To know her is to love her.
You know what's so incredibly amazing is the mercy, grace, and strength God granted one eleven-month-old baby two years ago. A baby, who lost the only home she knew, the only family she knew, was introduced to a new language, new smells, new clothes, new formula, new foods, new beds, was given a mother who believed in for a penny, in for a pound, first car rides, first walking tours of Vietnam, first plane rides, first restaurant experiences, flew for endless hours with a double ear infection barely making a fuss, met Oma, her brother, her sister, her new home still having the infection for another two days until her mommy took her to the doctor, handled it all like it was an every day occurance. Doesn't everyone meet a chick for like an hour one night, then the next morning become legally bound to the woman and spend the rest of your life with the chick? It happens all the time in Vegas. I am in awe of that amazing baby. I am in awe of how God prepared her. How He gave me this baby who still to this day rolls with the punches and is down for whatever.
When we went to the office to introduce everyone to the terrific trio, my friend, Joe, told me later that he could see with us only being together a few weeks that Layla was bonded to me. To hear him say those words made my heart rejoice. I couldn't see it myself, I think I was in the haze of having twins and three kids. Now it's hard to believe it took me twelve hours to coax my first smile out of her, particularly when I hear,
"Mommy!" shouted.
"Mommy," stated.
"Mommy," cried.
"Mommy," giggled.
"Mommy," whined.
"Layla, no whining."
"Mommy, I not whining," she whines.
"Mommy," smiled.
In two years, one thing hasn't changed. She's still my human lojac. Still keyed into me. Still knows when not to push it like last year at Disneyland.
As she finished barfing in the flowers as we waited to get on Dumbo, I gave her a look which she rightly interpreted to mean Mommy has spent way too much money for you to get sick. So either get better or I'm calling Aunt Dee Dee to come pick you up while your brother, sister, and I "enjoy" the anti-christ in amusement park form. She miraculously got better though I did have to carry her around the park for the rest of the day. I knew I should have brought the Baby Bjorn.
Two years went by in the blink of an eye. Layla, I love you. I adore you. And the seemingly endless years I waited for Vietnam to reopen their doors so I could adopt you, were all worth the wait and were necessary for us to be together. For you to call me, "Mommy," and for me to call you, "Baby." And for you to have "your Oma," "
your Jory," and "your Roro."
Baby, I could have never have prayed for a baby as wonderful, smart, loving, and as beautiful as you. To quote the greatest group ever, our God is always working.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
What are you doing New Year's New Year's Eve
With a free day at hand, I thought I would do a season of review of this holiday season. SCORE! I loved this new 2:30AM Black Friday start time. It works for me. Next year, I'll have to make sure my alarm clock is actually set right.
I love Toys R Us opening up on Thanksgiving night because when I stroll in 12 hours after they open, there are no lines and tons of people to help me.
I love nephews who wants toys made by one company or for one cartoon or character. It makes shopping all the easier.
And who knew there was one morning out of the year were IHOP wasn't super crowded. This might need to become our new go to Black Friday eatery.
The former Learner's is still overpriced even with 60% of all items in their stores.
Kohl's and Wal-Mart are Black Friday don'ts.
Waking up at 4AM to wrap gifts is a great time to start listening to Christmas music so you can get through your whole cd collection.
I need to buy another Christmas movie on DVD because as much as I love Scrooged, I can't watch it every time I want a break from Christmas music.
Mable King was in Scrooged and The Jerk. Score! She should have married her agent.
Giving the kids, Oma, and loved ones their own Christmas paper so the presents could be easily identified is a work of genius. Score! Yeah me!
Kohl's is evil.
Media mail rocks!
Friends who advise you to purchase Superman the cartoon are the best friends. Who knew there was a Superman series that starts on Krypton.
Being up at 3AM is a good time to catch up on shows when you don't want to hear another version of Joy to the World or watch Scrooged again. And to watch shows you wouldn't ordinarily watch. Can anyone say Sing Off?
Last year, I bought some Christmas earrings from a closing Pic N Save and I thought Score! Unfortunately this year when I put them on I realized something about my Christmas self. While I don't like gaudy Christmas sweaters and earrings, I want my earrings to be noticed. The ones I bought are subtle. How can you share the joy of Christmas with subtlety? You need someone to look at your ears and say, "Hey, I love your wreaths." I use to have a pair of Christmas tree earrings. I need to find some more. Christmas earrings need to say, "Pow!".
I need to keep a better list of everything I buy after September so I won't buy gifts, then "find" things I bought earlier that I thought would be the perfect gift.
Next Thanksgiving season, I'll have to reread this list and take this knowledge with me into the next holiday season.
"Mommy, I hurt myself."
"Are you okay, Jory?"
"Yes, it only hurts a little because I'm six. If I was five, it would hurt a lot."
And people say there's no difference between the day before and after your birthday.
I love Toys R Us opening up on Thanksgiving night because when I stroll in 12 hours after they open, there are no lines and tons of people to help me.
I love nephews who wants toys made by one company or for one cartoon or character. It makes shopping all the easier.
And who knew there was one morning out of the year were IHOP wasn't super crowded. This might need to become our new go to Black Friday eatery.
The former Learner's is still overpriced even with 60% of all items in their stores.
Kohl's and Wal-Mart are Black Friday don'ts.
Waking up at 4AM to wrap gifts is a great time to start listening to Christmas music so you can get through your whole cd collection.
I need to buy another Christmas movie on DVD because as much as I love Scrooged, I can't watch it every time I want a break from Christmas music.
Mable King was in Scrooged and The Jerk. Score! She should have married her agent.
Giving the kids, Oma, and loved ones their own Christmas paper so the presents could be easily identified is a work of genius. Score! Yeah me!
Kohl's is evil.
Media mail rocks!
Friends who advise you to purchase Superman the cartoon are the best friends. Who knew there was a Superman series that starts on Krypton.
Being up at 3AM is a good time to catch up on shows when you don't want to hear another version of Joy to the World or watch Scrooged again. And to watch shows you wouldn't ordinarily watch. Can anyone say Sing Off?
Last year, I bought some Christmas earrings from a closing Pic N Save and I thought Score! Unfortunately this year when I put them on I realized something about my Christmas self. While I don't like gaudy Christmas sweaters and earrings, I want my earrings to be noticed. The ones I bought are subtle. How can you share the joy of Christmas with subtlety? You need someone to look at your ears and say, "Hey, I love your wreaths." I use to have a pair of Christmas tree earrings. I need to find some more. Christmas earrings need to say, "Pow!".
I need to keep a better list of everything I buy after September so I won't buy gifts, then "find" things I bought earlier that I thought would be the perfect gift.
Next Thanksgiving season, I'll have to reread this list and take this knowledge with me into the next holiday season.
"Mommy, I hurt myself."
"Are you okay, Jory?"
"Yes, it only hurts a little because I'm six. If I was five, it would hurt a lot."
And people say there's no difference between the day before and after your birthday.
Happy Fifth Birthday Kayla!
Five years ago today, December 27th, I was awakened by movement, then a very bright light. It was Mona walking into the room putting up laundry.
What time is it, I asked, certain it had to be early.
She told me it was around 4AM.
I asked why she was up.
She nonchalantly informed me her water was leaking and she was getting the kids' clothes up to wear to the hospital, along with putting up laundry.
Uh, squeeze me?!?! Your water is leaking? Your water is leaking and you're doing laundry?!
Mona casually told me to go back to sleep, she'd wake me when it was time to go to the hospital, and promptly turned the lights back off and exited the room.
My head was spinning as I laid in the dark. My niece who was due around January 7th was going to make an early appearance. Yippee!! I jumped out of bed, quietly so as to not disturb my own bundle of joy, and went to see nesting at work. My sister and I cleaned and cleaned, I tried to get her to sit down but she refused. There's something wrong when someone in labor is sweeping the floor or trying to mop. It's like you've entered bizarro world. Then finally a little after 6AM, she said, go get dressed, it's time to go to the hospital.
We woke the boys. I threw on some clothes and decided to let my one year and two-day-old baby keep on his footie pajamas because I knew he was going to sleep the morning away.
The boys grabbed her overnight bag. We put it in the trunk. All of it became completely real to me, when she handed me the car keys so I would know how to get back home. Wow!
After a few hiccups, we arrived at the hospital and within the hour my sister, whom they had been expecting, was checked in, told she was having a c-section, and was being prepped for surgery.
Mijo, Tigger, a bright eyed Jory, and myself kissed Mona and watched as she was rolled away to bring into the world the newest member of our family. My boys and I roamed the halls of the hospital, called a friend of Mona's, who graciously came to wait with us, and ate at the hospital cafeteria.
My mom asked why I didn't go into surgery with Mona and I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of that myself. This was probably my first and last opportunity to be able to watch a surgery, a c-section, being performed up close and personal. To be seen in real life, not just through the eyes of a lens on my TV screen from Discovery Health and TLC. As much as I would have loved holding Mona's hand while peering over the curtain and looking into the mirror to see what was going on, to watch my niece come into the world, I knew my sister would have preferred me being with her other two babies more. Ah, the sacrifices we make for those we love.
After a few check ins, we were finally told she had delivered a healthy baby girl. Ah, yes, the girl I had been waiting for for years was finally here. While Mona recovered, we tried to catch a glimpse of the new baby but being a small town hospital two days after Christmas, the place was a little short staffed. Finally a nurse came into the nursery and we told her the baby we were here to see. So she showed us one, but we had a feeling that wasn't our baby, so we kept moving around the nursery and found there were three babies born and we couldn't read any names on the bassinets so we weren't quite sure which one was our baby.
We didn't actually get to meet the baby until Mona was back in her room, a little loopy and nauseous. She had them bring in the baby. I had never seen a baby that was only a few hours old. She had a head full of dark brown hair and beautiful dark brown eyes. She wasn't as wrinkly as I thought she would be. I handed her the nameless, adorable newborn. Ahh, my girl.
We watched as Mona counted her toes, fingers, made sure she was all there. I held her again and as I was rocking the newborn, Jory wanted to be held. I picked him up and carried them both. A few minutes later, someone's hand went up and down. Yes, hours into the world little girl and you're being hit by your cousin. Welcome to the world! I quickly reprimanded Jory and when I saw he was going for a second time, I handed the baby back to Mona. Jory sat in my arms for another forty-five minutes, refusing to sit on the bed with his beloved Auntie Mona or play with Mijo or Tigger.
Mona and I were amazed to see a baby so young be so incredibly jealous. Any time I made a move to pick the baby Jory was all over me. He couldn't be put down, didn't want anyone else to hold him. Who knew?
As I was bringing our visit at the hospital to a close, I heard Mona comment that they hadn't bathed the baby yet. Uh, she still has amniotic fluid on her? Yeah, no kisses from this group tonight. We love her, but we're not that close. So I had the boys hug mom and wave at their sister. We'd kiss all over her when she smelled like Johnson & Johnson.
I can't believe that was five years ago. I can't believe that nameless baby became my Kayla, who is more like my sister than her other two. Happy Birthday, Kayla, your favorite auntie adores you! I love you!
What time is it, I asked, certain it had to be early.
She told me it was around 4AM.
I asked why she was up.
She nonchalantly informed me her water was leaking and she was getting the kids' clothes up to wear to the hospital, along with putting up laundry.
Uh, squeeze me?!?! Your water is leaking? Your water is leaking and you're doing laundry?!
Mona casually told me to go back to sleep, she'd wake me when it was time to go to the hospital, and promptly turned the lights back off and exited the room.
My head was spinning as I laid in the dark. My niece who was due around January 7th was going to make an early appearance. Yippee!! I jumped out of bed, quietly so as to not disturb my own bundle of joy, and went to see nesting at work. My sister and I cleaned and cleaned, I tried to get her to sit down but she refused. There's something wrong when someone in labor is sweeping the floor or trying to mop. It's like you've entered bizarro world. Then finally a little after 6AM, she said, go get dressed, it's time to go to the hospital.
We woke the boys. I threw on some clothes and decided to let my one year and two-day-old baby keep on his footie pajamas because I knew he was going to sleep the morning away.
The boys grabbed her overnight bag. We put it in the trunk. All of it became completely real to me, when she handed me the car keys so I would know how to get back home. Wow!
After a few hiccups, we arrived at the hospital and within the hour my sister, whom they had been expecting, was checked in, told she was having a c-section, and was being prepped for surgery.
Mijo, Tigger, a bright eyed Jory, and myself kissed Mona and watched as she was rolled away to bring into the world the newest member of our family. My boys and I roamed the halls of the hospital, called a friend of Mona's, who graciously came to wait with us, and ate at the hospital cafeteria.
My mom asked why I didn't go into surgery with Mona and I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of that myself. This was probably my first and last opportunity to be able to watch a surgery, a c-section, being performed up close and personal. To be seen in real life, not just through the eyes of a lens on my TV screen from Discovery Health and TLC. As much as I would have loved holding Mona's hand while peering over the curtain and looking into the mirror to see what was going on, to watch my niece come into the world, I knew my sister would have preferred me being with her other two babies more. Ah, the sacrifices we make for those we love.
After a few check ins, we were finally told she had delivered a healthy baby girl. Ah, yes, the girl I had been waiting for for years was finally here. While Mona recovered, we tried to catch a glimpse of the new baby but being a small town hospital two days after Christmas, the place was a little short staffed. Finally a nurse came into the nursery and we told her the baby we were here to see. So she showed us one, but we had a feeling that wasn't our baby, so we kept moving around the nursery and found there were three babies born and we couldn't read any names on the bassinets so we weren't quite sure which one was our baby.
We didn't actually get to meet the baby until Mona was back in her room, a little loopy and nauseous. She had them bring in the baby. I had never seen a baby that was only a few hours old. She had a head full of dark brown hair and beautiful dark brown eyes. She wasn't as wrinkly as I thought she would be. I handed her the nameless, adorable newborn. Ahh, my girl.
We watched as Mona counted her toes, fingers, made sure she was all there. I held her again and as I was rocking the newborn, Jory wanted to be held. I picked him up and carried them both. A few minutes later, someone's hand went up and down. Yes, hours into the world little girl and you're being hit by your cousin. Welcome to the world! I quickly reprimanded Jory and when I saw he was going for a second time, I handed the baby back to Mona. Jory sat in my arms for another forty-five minutes, refusing to sit on the bed with his beloved Auntie Mona or play with Mijo or Tigger.
Mona and I were amazed to see a baby so young be so incredibly jealous. Any time I made a move to pick the baby Jory was all over me. He couldn't be put down, didn't want anyone else to hold him. Who knew?
As I was bringing our visit at the hospital to a close, I heard Mona comment that they hadn't bathed the baby yet. Uh, she still has amniotic fluid on her? Yeah, no kisses from this group tonight. We love her, but we're not that close. So I had the boys hug mom and wave at their sister. We'd kiss all over her when she smelled like Johnson & Johnson.
I can't believe that was five years ago. I can't believe that nameless baby became my Kayla, who is more like my sister than her other two. Happy Birthday, Kayla, your favorite auntie adores you! I love you!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
For auld lang syne
Christmas 2010
By 9AM, the kids were being situated by Oma so she could take a picture. Yeah, Oma has never really taken a picture of three children at once so her patience was tested quickly.
Aunt Brenda called and said she and Vandy were coming over so I tried to delay the gift opening, but after more than a half-an-hour of stalling we started without them. Jory was over the moon at receiving two trucks. I got a kiss, hug, and a thank you. Like last year, trucks make all other gifts pale in comparison. But I learned, unlike last year I made sure I let him open the trucks towards the end of the morning.
Aunt Brenda and Vandy arrived to find Rowan confused as to why every gift under the tree wasn't for her and why did turns have to be taken when unwrapping gifts. Ah, she sounded just like her brother did when he was her age.
Layla didn't spend the whole morning under the dining room table like last year. She actually opened some presents, but the whole Christmas thing is still over her head. I'm sure next Christmas she'll be asking the same questions Rowan is asking this Christmas.
After the presents were opened, the trash picked up, it was time to get ready and go to cousin Tony's. An hour after we were suppose to arrive, we arrived along with four other families. We were the early ones. Nearly two hours later, we finally ate but by then no one was hungry because to appease the hungry mass chips and dip was put out. It was like the kids had never seen food before. I guess no one had eaten anything since breakfast.
Once dinner was completed, the kids played, while the adults cleaned the kitchen. And by adults, I mean, the women. Why don't men ever go in there and start washing dishes? Start transferring food from one large pot to a smaller container? Anyhoo, when this was done, it was on to Jory's birthday cake. I remembered the candles this year. SCORE! We gathered around in the makeshift tent Tony made in his carport and sang happy birthday to the second greatest boy ever to be born on Christmas Day. Then we partook in his cake. This year I was adventurous and bought a marble cake with buttercream frosting. It was a gamble as I couldn't remember if I really liked buttercream, but I discovered yes, I do like buttercream.
The cake was put away and on to the presents. By now, the sun had long set and Tony decided we'd have a 1800s Christmas but instead of a lantern to read by we got the glow from his plasma tv showing the Laker game. Suffice to say, after the second gift I couldn't read I stopped letting the kids open gifts. Luckily in all the uproar and noise, they didn't really notice. So I quietly put the gifts in a bag to open later at home.
Jory was thrilled to receive another truck. It's official we are maxed out with trucks for the foreseeable future. And his Auntie Mona brought him into the hand held technology arena with her purchase of a Leapster. Rowan was ecstatic over the gift of Strawberry Shortcake dvd. I'm not sure why she was so excited, but she was. I'm sure she doesn't know that her mother can't stand that obnoxious Strawberry.
All in all, it was a good Christmas. Not because of the toys, the ereader I got, which will be impossibly outdated when I can actually read books again, but because we got to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ with our loved ones, our brothers and sisters in Christ. We are so blessed to know the Christ in Christmas.
By 9AM, the kids were being situated by Oma so she could take a picture. Yeah, Oma has never really taken a picture of three children at once so her patience was tested quickly.
Aunt Brenda called and said she and Vandy were coming over so I tried to delay the gift opening, but after more than a half-an-hour of stalling we started without them. Jory was over the moon at receiving two trucks. I got a kiss, hug, and a thank you. Like last year, trucks make all other gifts pale in comparison. But I learned, unlike last year I made sure I let him open the trucks towards the end of the morning.
Aunt Brenda and Vandy arrived to find Rowan confused as to why every gift under the tree wasn't for her and why did turns have to be taken when unwrapping gifts. Ah, she sounded just like her brother did when he was her age.
Layla didn't spend the whole morning under the dining room table like last year. She actually opened some presents, but the whole Christmas thing is still over her head. I'm sure next Christmas she'll be asking the same questions Rowan is asking this Christmas.
After the presents were opened, the trash picked up, it was time to get ready and go to cousin Tony's. An hour after we were suppose to arrive, we arrived along with four other families. We were the early ones. Nearly two hours later, we finally ate but by then no one was hungry because to appease the hungry mass chips and dip was put out. It was like the kids had never seen food before. I guess no one had eaten anything since breakfast.
Once dinner was completed, the kids played, while the adults cleaned the kitchen. And by adults, I mean, the women. Why don't men ever go in there and start washing dishes? Start transferring food from one large pot to a smaller container? Anyhoo, when this was done, it was on to Jory's birthday cake. I remembered the candles this year. SCORE! We gathered around in the makeshift tent Tony made in his carport and sang happy birthday to the second greatest boy ever to be born on Christmas Day. Then we partook in his cake. This year I was adventurous and bought a marble cake with buttercream frosting. It was a gamble as I couldn't remember if I really liked buttercream, but I discovered yes, I do like buttercream.
The cake was put away and on to the presents. By now, the sun had long set and Tony decided we'd have a 1800s Christmas but instead of a lantern to read by we got the glow from his plasma tv showing the Laker game. Suffice to say, after the second gift I couldn't read I stopped letting the kids open gifts. Luckily in all the uproar and noise, they didn't really notice. So I quietly put the gifts in a bag to open later at home.
Jory was thrilled to receive another truck. It's official we are maxed out with trucks for the foreseeable future. And his Auntie Mona brought him into the hand held technology arena with her purchase of a Leapster. Rowan was ecstatic over the gift of Strawberry Shortcake dvd. I'm not sure why she was so excited, but she was. I'm sure she doesn't know that her mother can't stand that obnoxious Strawberry.
All in all, it was a good Christmas. Not because of the toys, the ereader I got, which will be impossibly outdated when I can actually read books again, but because we got to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ with our loved ones, our brothers and sisters in Christ. We are so blessed to know the Christ in Christmas.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Happy Sixth Birthday!!!
Years ago in English class, I read a short story about a writer with MS. One Saturday, she went into the office to get some work done. Finishing up a trip to the ladies' room, her legs gave way and she fell into the toilet. For nothing in the world could she get her legs to work, so she just sat there. She wondered if it had been a weekday, if she would have cried out for help or would she have been too embarrassed and just sat there until she regained her strength. Later she told a friend what happened to her at work and her friend asked, don't you ever ask why me?
The writer turned to her friend and said, no. I ask, why not me? Because by asking why me, I'm wishing my pain, this disease on someone else and I wouldn't do that or wish this on anyone.
That story or rather her response has stuck with me from when I first read it in Dr. Postema's mandatory frosh English class. I try not to ask why me, but instead why not me. If a perfect and blameless Jesus could be beaten, pierced in His side, and hung from the cross for my sins, who am I to ever say why is this happening to me? I am far from perfect. Okay not super far, but slightly far.
I pray one day my son will fully and deeply understand the sacrifice His Savior made. I'm not one for new Christmas songs, but this one by Kirk Franklin and the Family is growing on me.
Listen to the angels
Rejoicing e'er so sweetly
Receiving heaven's glory
The night that Christ was born
Can't you see the people
Coming from every nation
Pleading for salvation
The night that Christ was born
Oh such a wonderful Savior
To be born in a manger
So that I can share His favor
And my heart be made anew
Listen to the trumpets
Shouting through the darkness
Crying 'holy, holy'
The night that Christ was born
Listen to the trumpets
Shouting through the darkness
Crying 'holy, holy' (Now Behold the Savior)
The night that Christ was born
It's making me cry. Oh what a blessed woman I am and what a blessed like boy he is. I had ideas floating around what I was going to write this day. But I'm at a loss at what to say, though my fingers keep typing. I am so madly in love with this now six-year-old. It's hard to remember what life was like without him. Well, it was empty. Okay not empty, but I had no idea how much more of life was out there, that you experience when you have a child. Your eyes are open to the good and the wondrous and the horribly, horribly evil.
I love The First 48. It can be a hard show to watch, but I never cried until the episode where detectives came to tell a mother her daughter had been shot repeatedly with a machine gun and set on fire. The mother did not cry one tear, she nodded and said, I was waiting for this day to come. I told her it was coming. I'm crying now just thinking about it. Oh, the pain she must have felt knowing her grown daughter was on the wrong path but she could do nothing to stop her. Only talk to her daughter, try to impart some wisdom and common sense, but sadly to no avail. Never more since becoming a parent has the tagline, "Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man?" registered in my mind. When God's hand is not on us, oh the evil and destructive things we can do to ourselves and each other.
Alrighty then, this is such an uplifting birthday message. I can't believe my baby is six. His kinda first Christmas (I say if you spend your first Christmas in a hospital nursery, it's not really your first Christmas), we both shed tears. I shed them because my arms were still empty, devoid of a child. And he cried as his mouth and nose were cleared and he took his first breath. And as doctors, nurses poked and prodded him. And he cried for the voice that he had heard for the last eight or nine months but was no longer around.
His first birthday, he spent in the loving arms of his most wonderful mother at his favorite Auntie Mona's house. Mijo and Tigger had so much fun with him that Christmas as their little baby cousin tried to walk after them and catch up to them.
His second birthday was suppose to be spent in the snow at Big Bear. Unlike his mother, he wouldn't be in high school on the way to a volleyball tournament in Mono Lake before he saw his first snow. But the best made plans are hastily cancelled so instead he could spend his second birthday with his brand new sister.
His third birthday, he opened his gifts on our bed in our cabin as we sailed around Hawaii. Later we went to some national Hawaiian park, where he barfed all the way down the curving road in-between trying to cough up a lung. (Let me just say getting sick on a cruise ship is cause for them to send out the National Guards. Understandable, but let's pull back from the overkill.)
His fourth birthday was spent at Uncle Mort's and Aunt Renee's on a rainy Christmas Day. His new trucks occupied him, as I hugged and kissed him goodbye to go to the airport to get his new little sister. (Don't you love how mommies go on trips, particularly around Christmas time, and come back with little sisters?)
His fifth birthday, his mommy temporarily lost his birthday candles at Ronnie and Oscar's so we had to improvise with real candles for him to blow out. Luckily he didn't know the difference or rather didn't care.
Today another birthday, one he shares with His Creator. I am so in awe that I'm his mother. His mommy. He is a delightful, funny, intelligent, silly, loving, caring, infuriating little boy who brings me such incredible joy. If only I could go back and tell that girl who stood in the kitchen crying, what her next Christmas or five would look like. Would be like. How God had such awesome things in store for her. That all the waiting, which honestly wasn't literally that long, was part of God's perfect timing. That nothing could have happened any sooner because she wasn't ready, because her baby hadn't been born yet. Okay, he was born when I was crying, but we were both completely and totally unaware of each other. I can't imagine a world where this little boy isn't calling me mommy. Isn't wanting me to play cars with me. Isn't trying to play me by crying, "Mommy, I want you." Isn't wiping my tears and telling me it's okay as I shed tears at God's goodness. Isn't trying to put his sisters up to things so he can reap the benefits.
"So it wasn't you who got the truck you're banned from playing with for a week?"
"No, it was Roro."
Right, it was your sister who randomly decided on her own to go into the living room and get the off-limit truck. Gotcha! And really must we copy the baby and make a nickname out of a nickname. A new pet peeve of mine.
Isn't the best big brother a set of Irish twins could ask for.
Oh my baby, who earlier this year told me his birthday was on Christmas. I wasn't trying to hide that from him, but we weren't shouting it from the mountaintops. Christmas was on Christmas and his birthday was on December 25th. I would have been okay with my future daughter telling him on say their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Baby, I don't know what today will hold other than at some point today I'll want to cover you in kisses, be amazed at how much I could love another human being, how I would to quote the Canadian, "walk the world for you/I'd die for you," and how I'll want to strangle you, but it's all good. You, Jory, are truly a blessing and I am proud to be your mommy and proud to call you my son. I will fail you. I will disappoint you. Punish you when it's not your fault. Lie to you. But remember this, my human heart loves you as much as it possible can and know, believe that the One who was born on this day, who laid in a manger, loves you supernaturally and when you follow Him down the narrow path, ohh the glory that awaits.
I love you my precious baby boy!!!! Happy Birthday!!!
The writer turned to her friend and said, no. I ask, why not me? Because by asking why me, I'm wishing my pain, this disease on someone else and I wouldn't do that or wish this on anyone.
That story or rather her response has stuck with me from when I first read it in Dr. Postema's mandatory frosh English class. I try not to ask why me, but instead why not me. If a perfect and blameless Jesus could be beaten, pierced in His side, and hung from the cross for my sins, who am I to ever say why is this happening to me? I am far from perfect. Okay not super far, but slightly far.
I pray one day my son will fully and deeply understand the sacrifice His Savior made. I'm not one for new Christmas songs, but this one by Kirk Franklin and the Family is growing on me.
Listen to the angels
Rejoicing e'er so sweetly
Receiving heaven's glory
The night that Christ was born
Can't you see the people
Coming from every nation
Pleading for salvation
The night that Christ was born
Oh such a wonderful Savior
To be born in a manger
So that I can share His favor
And my heart be made anew
Listen to the trumpets
Shouting through the darkness
Crying 'holy, holy'
The night that Christ was born
Listen to the trumpets
Shouting through the darkness
Crying 'holy, holy' (Now Behold the Savior)
The night that Christ was born
It's making me cry. Oh what a blessed woman I am and what a blessed like boy he is. I had ideas floating around what I was going to write this day. But I'm at a loss at what to say, though my fingers keep typing. I am so madly in love with this now six-year-old. It's hard to remember what life was like without him. Well, it was empty. Okay not empty, but I had no idea how much more of life was out there, that you experience when you have a child. Your eyes are open to the good and the wondrous and the horribly, horribly evil.
I love The First 48. It can be a hard show to watch, but I never cried until the episode where detectives came to tell a mother her daughter had been shot repeatedly with a machine gun and set on fire. The mother did not cry one tear, she nodded and said, I was waiting for this day to come. I told her it was coming. I'm crying now just thinking about it. Oh, the pain she must have felt knowing her grown daughter was on the wrong path but she could do nothing to stop her. Only talk to her daughter, try to impart some wisdom and common sense, but sadly to no avail. Never more since becoming a parent has the tagline, "Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of man?" registered in my mind. When God's hand is not on us, oh the evil and destructive things we can do to ourselves and each other.
Alrighty then, this is such an uplifting birthday message. I can't believe my baby is six. His kinda first Christmas (I say if you spend your first Christmas in a hospital nursery, it's not really your first Christmas), we both shed tears. I shed them because my arms were still empty, devoid of a child. And he cried as his mouth and nose were cleared and he took his first breath. And as doctors, nurses poked and prodded him. And he cried for the voice that he had heard for the last eight or nine months but was no longer around.
His first birthday, he spent in the loving arms of his most wonderful mother at his favorite Auntie Mona's house. Mijo and Tigger had so much fun with him that Christmas as their little baby cousin tried to walk after them and catch up to them.
His second birthday was suppose to be spent in the snow at Big Bear. Unlike his mother, he wouldn't be in high school on the way to a volleyball tournament in Mono Lake before he saw his first snow. But the best made plans are hastily cancelled so instead he could spend his second birthday with his brand new sister.
His third birthday, he opened his gifts on our bed in our cabin as we sailed around Hawaii. Later we went to some national Hawaiian park, where he barfed all the way down the curving road in-between trying to cough up a lung. (Let me just say getting sick on a cruise ship is cause for them to send out the National Guards. Understandable, but let's pull back from the overkill.)
His fourth birthday was spent at Uncle Mort's and Aunt Renee's on a rainy Christmas Day. His new trucks occupied him, as I hugged and kissed him goodbye to go to the airport to get his new little sister. (Don't you love how mommies go on trips, particularly around Christmas time, and come back with little sisters?)
His fifth birthday, his mommy temporarily lost his birthday candles at Ronnie and Oscar's so we had to improvise with real candles for him to blow out. Luckily he didn't know the difference or rather didn't care.
Today another birthday, one he shares with His Creator. I am so in awe that I'm his mother. His mommy. He is a delightful, funny, intelligent, silly, loving, caring, infuriating little boy who brings me such incredible joy. If only I could go back and tell that girl who stood in the kitchen crying, what her next Christmas or five would look like. Would be like. How God had such awesome things in store for her. That all the waiting, which honestly wasn't literally that long, was part of God's perfect timing. That nothing could have happened any sooner because she wasn't ready, because her baby hadn't been born yet. Okay, he was born when I was crying, but we were both completely and totally unaware of each other. I can't imagine a world where this little boy isn't calling me mommy. Isn't wanting me to play cars with me. Isn't trying to play me by crying, "Mommy, I want you." Isn't wiping my tears and telling me it's okay as I shed tears at God's goodness. Isn't trying to put his sisters up to things so he can reap the benefits.
"So it wasn't you who got the truck you're banned from playing with for a week?"
"No, it was Roro."
Right, it was your sister who randomly decided on her own to go into the living room and get the off-limit truck. Gotcha! And really must we copy the baby and make a nickname out of a nickname. A new pet peeve of mine.
Isn't the best big brother a set of Irish twins could ask for.
Oh my baby, who earlier this year told me his birthday was on Christmas. I wasn't trying to hide that from him, but we weren't shouting it from the mountaintops. Christmas was on Christmas and his birthday was on December 25th. I would have been okay with my future daughter telling him on say their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Baby, I don't know what today will hold other than at some point today I'll want to cover you in kisses, be amazed at how much I could love another human being, how I would to quote the Canadian, "walk the world for you/I'd die for you," and how I'll want to strangle you, but it's all good. You, Jory, are truly a blessing and I am proud to be your mommy and proud to call you my son. I will fail you. I will disappoint you. Punish you when it's not your fault. Lie to you. But remember this, my human heart loves you as much as it possible can and know, believe that the One who was born on this day, who laid in a manger, loves you supernaturally and when you follow Him down the narrow path, ohh the glory that awaits.
I love you my precious baby boy!!!! Happy Birthday!!!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Gloria in Excelsis Deo
"Mommy, a garbage truck. Like the one I had. Thank you."
"I wanted a city bus. Thank you."
Be still my beating heart. By the grace of God, I am trying to rear a mannerable, respectful, grateful young man. So why was I taken aback when he thanked me after he opened his two favorite birthday gifts at his birthday observed party? Maybe because I don't know if I was as thankful at his age on my birthday. Or maybe because the sincerity in his voice served as reminder that my baby is getting older, maturing. Or maybe it was in hearing his words was like God's way of showing me, encouraging me to keep on the parenting path that I'm on. Sort of, a hey, look, see, you're doing a good job.
The clothes and camera weren't such a big hit, but how could they be in the face of not one but two more things to push around the house. Cause that's what we really need in our tiny house more things with wheels.
He smiled brightly and couldn't wait to go home and play with him. He didn't notice nor mind that none of his cousins were able to come celebrate his birthday with him. And based on the number of tokens, he and his sisters went through I don't know if I could have afforded more people to come.
Abounding in his delight of his presents, I was glad I hadn't caved to pressure to buy him a Nintendo DS. Though yesterday, I almost felt bad he didn't have one. Okay, well not really but...His twelve-year-old cousin was in shock that Jory didn't have a DS and proceeded to rattle over every single person in our family who had one, which seemingly is everyone except for Jory and his sisters. His seven-year-old cousin was nodding her head in agreement as she played with her DS. I found myself on the verge of explaining my reasoning to the twelve-year-old and I stopped myself, but with Jory standing there I did feel bad because I wondered if he felt bad. I wondered if he felt hurt or left out because his mommy has made the decision not to buy him any electronic gaming equipment unless he asks for it.
There on my birthday, at his school, it hit me. I couldn't always protect him from hurt. I wouldn't always be able to save him from getting his feelings hurt or from not feeling like one of the group. Regina Belle's If I Could ran through my mind, as I caressed his head.
If I could
I would try to shield your innocence from time
But the part of life I gave you isn’t mine
I’ll watch you grow, so I can let you go
If I could
I’d help you make it through the hungry years
But I know that I can never cry your tears
But I would If I could
My poor baby. Why would anyone want to hurt him? He's the second greatest person to be born on Christmas.
And secondly and selfishly for my own sanity I'm glad he doesn't have a DS because he is so non-competitive it hurts me. It pains me to watch him play games. No, Jory, the point of your V-Tech V-Motion Smile (an educational wii for young kids) Toy Story game is to get Buzz Lightyear to the airport as quickly as possible while collecting the stars in the road and avoid hitting other cars. The point is not, "Mommy, there's a red van like yours. I'm going to drive next to you. Oooh, there's Oma's car, I'm going to drive with her." UGH!
I can't be in the same room with him when he's playing, literally, physically I have to be in another room. I'm not an overly competitive person, but watching my baby play his games is like nails on a chalkboard to me. He starts playing and I turn into the poster child of those dumb t-shirts. I want to shout, "Jory, the person with the most points wins!" Maybe this is why we don't play board games so I don't have to hear him say, "I'm the third first place winner." Uh, dude, there's only three of us playing and you lost. I have to bite my tongue.
It wasn't intentional, but he roamed around Chuck E. Cheese (his annual party site) all by himself. (Can someone explain to me why there were 12 billion people there this year? Each year the number of people grows. Why are they taking over our birthday spot? Shouldn't those parents be out shopping or at home cooking or out of town? Why must they be so selfish? Chuck E. on Christmas Eve aka Jory's birthday observed is suppose to be our quiet, empty spot like it was two years ago and before.)
He spent his tokens on whatever games or rides he wanted without my knowledge. If he played a game where you didn't get tickets if you win, I didn't know it. Maybe that was my belated birthday present. No anxiety at Chuck E. Cheese due to Jory not getting the point is to get as many tickets as humanly possible so you can trade them in for toys worth three cents, and three cents is being generous.
All in all, Jory and the girls had a great time. He came home and immediately opened his gifts. FYI, Playmobil, you should give people a head's up when they have to assemble buses. Oma wasn't able to do it, I didn't even attempt, so now I pray we have all the parts and will take it with us tomorrow so Uncle Mort or Uncle Bobby can properly put it together. Mad shout out to Mr. Jory himself, who attempted to put it together. He is so beautifully and wonderfully made. He's a genius. And such a boy. It would be so great if he taught himself how to build things. Hmm, maybe. You know his father is a Jewish carpenter. Maybe he's inheriting the skills.
And say a prayer for the parents who seemed to think taking their looked to be fifteen-year-old, thirteen-year-old, nine-year-old, six-year-old, and one-year-old to Chuck E. Cheese, for free babysitting, with no money while I assume their Christmas shopped was a good idea. Chuck E. Cheese and no money don't exist in the same world. We gave them the pizza we were taking home and the tickets Jory didn't cash in. As we walked out, I saw them devouring the pizza. I get getting in and out of the car with five kids is no walk in the park and going in and out of the stores with them can be nerve racking, but still. It was heartbreaking. Pray for the family.
And finally, we want to send a very happy birthday wish and a big kiss and hug to our favorite Aunt LaLa! I hope your birthday was everything you hoped it could be. And like my boy, you are so fearfully and wonderfully made and you're pretty and smart. Why aren't you off the market yet?
"I wanted a city bus. Thank you."
Be still my beating heart. By the grace of God, I am trying to rear a mannerable, respectful, grateful young man. So why was I taken aback when he thanked me after he opened his two favorite birthday gifts at his birthday observed party? Maybe because I don't know if I was as thankful at his age on my birthday. Or maybe because the sincerity in his voice served as reminder that my baby is getting older, maturing. Or maybe it was in hearing his words was like God's way of showing me, encouraging me to keep on the parenting path that I'm on. Sort of, a hey, look, see, you're doing a good job.
The clothes and camera weren't such a big hit, but how could they be in the face of not one but two more things to push around the house. Cause that's what we really need in our tiny house more things with wheels.
He smiled brightly and couldn't wait to go home and play with him. He didn't notice nor mind that none of his cousins were able to come celebrate his birthday with him. And based on the number of tokens, he and his sisters went through I don't know if I could have afforded more people to come.
Abounding in his delight of his presents, I was glad I hadn't caved to pressure to buy him a Nintendo DS. Though yesterday, I almost felt bad he didn't have one. Okay, well not really but...His twelve-year-old cousin was in shock that Jory didn't have a DS and proceeded to rattle over every single person in our family who had one, which seemingly is everyone except for Jory and his sisters. His seven-year-old cousin was nodding her head in agreement as she played with her DS. I found myself on the verge of explaining my reasoning to the twelve-year-old and I stopped myself, but with Jory standing there I did feel bad because I wondered if he felt bad. I wondered if he felt hurt or left out because his mommy has made the decision not to buy him any electronic gaming equipment unless he asks for it.
There on my birthday, at his school, it hit me. I couldn't always protect him from hurt. I wouldn't always be able to save him from getting his feelings hurt or from not feeling like one of the group. Regina Belle's If I Could ran through my mind, as I caressed his head.
If I could
I would try to shield your innocence from time
But the part of life I gave you isn’t mine
I’ll watch you grow, so I can let you go
If I could
I’d help you make it through the hungry years
But I know that I can never cry your tears
But I would If I could
My poor baby. Why would anyone want to hurt him? He's the second greatest person to be born on Christmas.
And secondly and selfishly for my own sanity I'm glad he doesn't have a DS because he is so non-competitive it hurts me. It pains me to watch him play games. No, Jory, the point of your V-Tech V-Motion Smile (an educational wii for young kids) Toy Story game is to get Buzz Lightyear to the airport as quickly as possible while collecting the stars in the road and avoid hitting other cars. The point is not, "Mommy, there's a red van like yours. I'm going to drive next to you. Oooh, there's Oma's car, I'm going to drive with her." UGH!
I can't be in the same room with him when he's playing, literally, physically I have to be in another room. I'm not an overly competitive person, but watching my baby play his games is like nails on a chalkboard to me. He starts playing and I turn into the poster child of those dumb t-shirts. I want to shout, "Jory, the person with the most points wins!" Maybe this is why we don't play board games so I don't have to hear him say, "I'm the third first place winner." Uh, dude, there's only three of us playing and you lost. I have to bite my tongue.
It wasn't intentional, but he roamed around Chuck E. Cheese (his annual party site) all by himself. (Can someone explain to me why there were 12 billion people there this year? Each year the number of people grows. Why are they taking over our birthday spot? Shouldn't those parents be out shopping or at home cooking or out of town? Why must they be so selfish? Chuck E. on Christmas Eve aka Jory's birthday observed is suppose to be our quiet, empty spot like it was two years ago and before.)
He spent his tokens on whatever games or rides he wanted without my knowledge. If he played a game where you didn't get tickets if you win, I didn't know it. Maybe that was my belated birthday present. No anxiety at Chuck E. Cheese due to Jory not getting the point is to get as many tickets as humanly possible so you can trade them in for toys worth three cents, and three cents is being generous.
All in all, Jory and the girls had a great time. He came home and immediately opened his gifts. FYI, Playmobil, you should give people a head's up when they have to assemble buses. Oma wasn't able to do it, I didn't even attempt, so now I pray we have all the parts and will take it with us tomorrow so Uncle Mort or Uncle Bobby can properly put it together. Mad shout out to Mr. Jory himself, who attempted to put it together. He is so beautifully and wonderfully made. He's a genius. And such a boy. It would be so great if he taught himself how to build things. Hmm, maybe. You know his father is a Jewish carpenter. Maybe he's inheriting the skills.
And say a prayer for the parents who seemed to think taking their looked to be fifteen-year-old, thirteen-year-old, nine-year-old, six-year-old, and one-year-old to Chuck E. Cheese, for free babysitting, with no money while I assume their Christmas shopped was a good idea. Chuck E. Cheese and no money don't exist in the same world. We gave them the pizza we were taking home and the tickets Jory didn't cash in. As we walked out, I saw them devouring the pizza. I get getting in and out of the car with five kids is no walk in the park and going in and out of the stores with them can be nerve racking, but still. It was heartbreaking. Pray for the family.
And finally, we want to send a very happy birthday wish and a big kiss and hug to our favorite Aunt LaLa! I hope your birthday was everything you hoped it could be. And like my boy, you are so fearfully and wonderfully made and you're pretty and smart. Why aren't you off the market yet?
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Fa la la la
"Mommy, the baby called us kids. And kids are baby goats," Jory informed me. Then he turned to his baby sister and said, "You're a goat."
"Jory," I warned, as he asked for the millionth time when he could open his present.
"Wait til after dinner," the baby chimed in.
"Baby, I do not need your help," I reminded her as her new favorite pasttime seems to be reprimanding her siblings and acting as a co-parent.
"Wait til after dinner," she repeated.
"Baby."
She smiled.
"Jory," I warned, as he asked for the millionth time when he could open his present.
"Wait til after dinner," the baby chimed in.
"Baby, I do not need your help," I reminded her as her new favorite pasttime seems to be reprimanding her siblings and acting as a co-parent.
"Wait til after dinner," she repeated.
"Baby."
She smiled.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
I wouldn't touch you with a 39 1/2 foot pole
At 9PM, I was finished. Finally finished. The presents were finally all wrapped. The room was as clean as it was going to get. The kids were in bed. The baby was sleep with no fever. And with the help of one He-Man strong five-year-old I even flipped my mattress. Why are those things so incredibly heavy? After the flipping and sheet changing, I laid upon my 800 thread count sheets. They are like buttah. Buttah, I tell you. What a wonderful birthday gift.
I'm listening to How the Grinch Stole Christmas on youtube as I type. I should probably try to sleep, but I think I want to usher in my birthday. It's only what an hour and 18 minutes away. Praise be to God, I'll be another year older. Blessed with another year to not understand the complexities of the relationships between mothers and daughters. You can't strangle them, but you can't live without them and you love them to death. Do they take lessons when you turn a certain age on how to drive you completely insane?
"Do you think you should go pick up the kids?" my mother asked.
"It's 12PM," I answered.
"But it's raining."
Are you serious?! I'm trying to finish wrapping the Christmas gifts you sent me out in the rain for the past two days to buy because you didn't want to leave the house. The baby is sick which has made her clingier than clothes dried without Bounce. I'm trying to finish doing the spring cleaning of my room, while putting up the never ending clothes you keep coming up with. And on top of all that, you want me to add two more kids to the madness. Two kids I just dropped off at school 3 hours ago.
"I like everyone to be home when it's raining."
"I'm not picking them up."
Silence. Thank you, God, though FYI I live in Los Angeles, you know the city Tony, Toni, Tone talked about in It Never Rains in Southern California, not Seattle or San Fran or Spokane, but in sunny L.A.
Finally at 3PM when the baby who had refused lunch, refused a nap, then agreed to eat lunch, but really only ate her chicken leg, refused her second chance at a nap to transform her from grumpy to tolerable, I decided to put Oma out of her misery and went to pick up Jory and Rowan.
She was very happy to hear this news. At what age do you take the class where you learn techniques to drive your children batty? And are boys as affected as women? Yes, all parents can drive their children mad, but there seems to be something extra special between moms and daughters.
Only a mother could say to her daughter, "You're wearing that?" and say it in that tone, that way, which the daughter instantly knows means, "Go take that off and find something better to wear aka something I would like for you to wear." And the daughter has to decide whether to fight or flee to change.
Days like these I'm evilly glad that I've got two daughters to inflict the pain on. Maybe having a sister means you only get half the madness? Somehow I doubt it. I love to imagine that I won't be like this to the Irish twins, but as I'm talking or rather venting to Chi about the madness that is my mom I know one day my girls will be doing the exact thing with each other or their other BFF. My mom says she's going to live to be 103, which means the girls will be 41 and 42 so does that mean they get to experience my crazy antics and their Oma's madness? Oh wow!
In 57 minutes, it will be my birthday I wonder if I'll have a day where I won't feel like banging my head against the wall until whatever my mom is saying or doing makes sense. One can hope and pray.
I'm listening to How the Grinch Stole Christmas on youtube as I type. I should probably try to sleep, but I think I want to usher in my birthday. It's only what an hour and 18 minutes away. Praise be to God, I'll be another year older. Blessed with another year to not understand the complexities of the relationships between mothers and daughters. You can't strangle them, but you can't live without them and you love them to death. Do they take lessons when you turn a certain age on how to drive you completely insane?
"Do you think you should go pick up the kids?" my mother asked.
"It's 12PM," I answered.
"But it's raining."
Are you serious?! I'm trying to finish wrapping the Christmas gifts you sent me out in the rain for the past two days to buy because you didn't want to leave the house. The baby is sick which has made her clingier than clothes dried without Bounce. I'm trying to finish doing the spring cleaning of my room, while putting up the never ending clothes you keep coming up with. And on top of all that, you want me to add two more kids to the madness. Two kids I just dropped off at school 3 hours ago.
"I like everyone to be home when it's raining."
"I'm not picking them up."
Silence. Thank you, God, though FYI I live in Los Angeles, you know the city Tony, Toni, Tone talked about in It Never Rains in Southern California, not Seattle or San Fran or Spokane, but in sunny L.A.
Finally at 3PM when the baby who had refused lunch, refused a nap, then agreed to eat lunch, but really only ate her chicken leg, refused her second chance at a nap to transform her from grumpy to tolerable, I decided to put Oma out of her misery and went to pick up Jory and Rowan.
She was very happy to hear this news. At what age do you take the class where you learn techniques to drive your children batty? And are boys as affected as women? Yes, all parents can drive their children mad, but there seems to be something extra special between moms and daughters.
Only a mother could say to her daughter, "You're wearing that?" and say it in that tone, that way, which the daughter instantly knows means, "Go take that off and find something better to wear aka something I would like for you to wear." And the daughter has to decide whether to fight or flee to change.
Days like these I'm evilly glad that I've got two daughters to inflict the pain on. Maybe having a sister means you only get half the madness? Somehow I doubt it. I love to imagine that I won't be like this to the Irish twins, but as I'm talking or rather venting to Chi about the madness that is my mom I know one day my girls will be doing the exact thing with each other or their other BFF. My mom says she's going to live to be 103, which means the girls will be 41 and 42 so does that mean they get to experience my crazy antics and their Oma's madness? Oh wow!
In 57 minutes, it will be my birthday I wonder if I'll have a day where I won't feel like banging my head against the wall until whatever my mom is saying or doing makes sense. One can hope and pray.
What a wonderful Saviour to be born in a manger
The baby has a cold, but the effects of the cold only seem to kick in at night. During the day while I'm out in the rain running errands for my mom, who inevitably calls to say, "Hey, while you're out can you stop by such and such and pick up such and such," Layla is a perfect angel. Or other than a runny nose, she's appears as healthy as a horse. But at night, the clingy unable to sleep side comes out.
Every hour or two, we're up. Or rather she's up and I follow suit. Sometimes I try to comfort her in the bed. Sometimes she's talkative and ask for a cup of milk or juice so we wander to the kitchen. But whatever state she's in, one thing remains true she has to remain in direct contact with me. So the clothes that need to put up, stay where they are. The gifts that need to be wrapped stay unwrapped because she can't lose contact and she doesn't want to sit in my lap or lay in my lap and sleep while I wrap. Doesn't want to sleep on my shoulder as I place clothes in their proper drawers.
So I'm awake with nothing to do but hold my baby, which if I wasn't so tired from the night before being up all night with her and my mind didn't go over all the things left to do, I would enjoy it.
The other morning at around 5AM, she felt better and wanted to chill out next to me so I started wrapping gifts as she watched The New Scooby Doo Christmas episodes and I listened to Christmas music. Sitting there, I paused and stared up at her and realized how it reminded me of Vietnam. Me with my insomnia, she with her "What schedule?! I was on a strict schedule for the last 11 months of my life? Surely you jest" routine and we'd lay on the bed. I would email people, while she crawled on the bed with some American show playing softly in the background. Ah, just like old times.
Every hour or two, we're up. Or rather she's up and I follow suit. Sometimes I try to comfort her in the bed. Sometimes she's talkative and ask for a cup of milk or juice so we wander to the kitchen. But whatever state she's in, one thing remains true she has to remain in direct contact with me. So the clothes that need to put up, stay where they are. The gifts that need to be wrapped stay unwrapped because she can't lose contact and she doesn't want to sit in my lap or lay in my lap and sleep while I wrap. Doesn't want to sleep on my shoulder as I place clothes in their proper drawers.
So I'm awake with nothing to do but hold my baby, which if I wasn't so tired from the night before being up all night with her and my mind didn't go over all the things left to do, I would enjoy it.
The other morning at around 5AM, she felt better and wanted to chill out next to me so I started wrapping gifts as she watched The New Scooby Doo Christmas episodes and I listened to Christmas music. Sitting there, I paused and stared up at her and realized how it reminded me of Vietnam. Me with my insomnia, she with her "What schedule?! I was on a strict schedule for the last 11 months of my life? Surely you jest" routine and we'd lay on the bed. I would email people, while she crawled on the bed with some American show playing softly in the background. Ah, just like old times.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
A strange way to save the world
Sure he must have been surprised
At where this road had taken him
'Cause never in a million lives
Would he had dreamed of Bethlehem
And standing at the manger
He saw with his own eyes
The message from the angel come to life
And Joseph said...
Why me, I'm just a simple man of trade
Why Him, with all the rulers in the world
Why here inside this stable filled with hay
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world
To think of how it could have been
If Jesus had come as He deserved
There would have been no Bethlehem
No lowly shepherds at His birth
But Joseph knew the reason
Love had to reach so far
And as he held the Savior in his arms
He must have thought...
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world
...this is such a strange way to save the world...Saving the World
I think of this song as the response to Mary, Did You Know. Not much is mentioned of Joseph in the Bible, but he is officially on my list of people dead or alive to have dinner with. An angel comes to you and tells you your betrothed is with child, and not just any child, but the Son of Man, and you are to name him Jesus. How do you deal with that info? Do you go to a close loved one and share this information to make sure you're not crazy? Seemingly he took it all in stride. As Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem did they discuss the upcoming birth, all that it meant and what laid ahead of them?
Who knows if Jesus' earthly father ever asked why me, but definitely loved ones, friends, neighbors asked why them. Mary and Joseph seem like to ordinary people who were blessed with something so incredibly miraculous.
Men shoulder so much responsibility. They are the leaders and providers of their families. I can't imagine on top of that pressure, knowing the child you're instructing, disciplining is God's Son. No pressure there, I'm sure.
Years ago, I saw a picture in Family Christian Store of Joseph building something and at his feet is a toddler Jesus imitating his father. Jesus was hammering directly in the window and the shadow cast was of a cross and a halo above his head. I loved it instantly. It said so much to me. It reminded me of the brilliant, impossible to find Star Wars: Episode One poster of Anakin standing in the desert and his shadow is that of Darth Vader. Both pictures so simple, yet so elegantly foreshadow the future and all that laid ahead. I'm not even a Star Wars fan, but I would love to have a copy of that poster. The picture of Joseph and Jesus serves as a reminder that He understands my human-ness because He was once human. Albeit, a perfect human.
What must have been like to hear people refer to the Saviour as your son? There's this line in the wonderful Jesus Christ Superstar that goes, "Like his father carving wood He'd have made good/Tables, chairs, and oaken chests would have suited Jesus best/He'd have caused nobody harm; no one alarm," the line always reminds me that to some people even with the ministry and the miracles he was solely and simply the carpenter's son.
At where this road had taken him
'Cause never in a million lives
Would he had dreamed of Bethlehem
And standing at the manger
He saw with his own eyes
The message from the angel come to life
And Joseph said...
Why me, I'm just a simple man of trade
Why Him, with all the rulers in the world
Why here inside this stable filled with hay
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world
To think of how it could have been
If Jesus had come as He deserved
There would have been no Bethlehem
No lowly shepherds at His birth
But Joseph knew the reason
Love had to reach so far
And as he held the Savior in his arms
He must have thought...
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world
...this is such a strange way to save the world...Saving the World
I think of this song as the response to Mary, Did You Know. Not much is mentioned of Joseph in the Bible, but he is officially on my list of people dead or alive to have dinner with. An angel comes to you and tells you your betrothed is with child, and not just any child, but the Son of Man, and you are to name him Jesus. How do you deal with that info? Do you go to a close loved one and share this information to make sure you're not crazy? Seemingly he took it all in stride. As Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem did they discuss the upcoming birth, all that it meant and what laid ahead of them?
Who knows if Jesus' earthly father ever asked why me, but definitely loved ones, friends, neighbors asked why them. Mary and Joseph seem like to ordinary people who were blessed with something so incredibly miraculous.
Men shoulder so much responsibility. They are the leaders and providers of their families. I can't imagine on top of that pressure, knowing the child you're instructing, disciplining is God's Son. No pressure there, I'm sure.
Years ago, I saw a picture in Family Christian Store of Joseph building something and at his feet is a toddler Jesus imitating his father. Jesus was hammering directly in the window and the shadow cast was of a cross and a halo above his head. I loved it instantly. It said so much to me. It reminded me of the brilliant, impossible to find Star Wars: Episode One poster of Anakin standing in the desert and his shadow is that of Darth Vader. Both pictures so simple, yet so elegantly foreshadow the future and all that laid ahead. I'm not even a Star Wars fan, but I would love to have a copy of that poster. The picture of Joseph and Jesus serves as a reminder that He understands my human-ness because He was once human. Albeit, a perfect human.
What must have been like to hear people refer to the Saviour as your son? There's this line in the wonderful Jesus Christ Superstar that goes, "Like his father carving wood He'd have made good/Tables, chairs, and oaken chests would have suited Jesus best/He'd have caused nobody harm; no one alarm," the line always reminds me that to some people even with the ministry and the miracles he was solely and simply the carpenter's son.
Mary, did you know?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.
Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.
The blind will see, the deaf will hear and the dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb.
Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am.
I can't remember the first time I heard this song, but I do remember when I heard it it captured my attention. What did Mary know? She knew she was giving birth to God's son, but could she have truly understood what that meant? I don't think so. I thought I knew what it would mean to be a mommy, I imagined what it would be like but then the J-man came along and he blew everything out of the water.
I'm sure she didn't imagine she would give birth "outdoors", placing her newborn in a manger. I wonder what it was like to be chillin' with your firstborn and your man and wise men come presenting your baby with gifts, worshipping Him. Any momentary thoughts that her baby was just like everyone else's I'm sure died quickly then. But there had to be times as she watched the Man who would one day walk on water, calm storms with His words, that He was like other firstborns. His parents excited when He started crawling, talking, and walking.
I'm sure there must have been doubts of her worthiness, how could there not be. I look at my three and can't believe He entrusted me to care for them, teach them, love them. I worry about not making the right decisions and the potential fall out if I get it wrong. I am human. I am a sinner so I will fail them, but God will use my failure to train me and TTT and He will use it all for His glory.
I use to think it would be awesome to have a genius or two or three. Not that they aren't geniuses, but you know to have a genius genius child. But after some thought, the reality of it- - to have a five-year-old who is smarter than me, book wise, would be a hard pill for me to swallow. I'm trying to hang on for dear life with the things that come out of my normal genius five-year-old's mouth. I can't even begin to imagine what it would have been like to rear a child who was perfect. On the upside, Mary never had never situations like these.
Sitting down to rebraid Josephina's (yes, I know Jewish people don't name their children after living relatives but go with me here) hair, Mary never would have said, "Jesus, did you cut your sister's hair again?"
And as she was presented with this fearful/shocked stare, she would have thought did he really think that I wouldn't notice that his sister's braid was noticeable shorter than when I braided it. "Why did you cut her hair?"
"I wanted her to look pretty."
"Josephina, you don't let people come towards you with scissors. Do you understand? And no one cuts your hair."
"Yes, Mommy," Josephina would have responded.
"Jesus, are you suppose to use the scissors?"
"No."
Sighing, Mary would have looked at her two children and said, "Let's not let this happen again."
And they would have both nodded in agreement.
Nope, Mary would have never had that conversation with Jesus. Though that's not to say she didn't have that convo with one of his brothers.
Oprah interviewed Elizabeth and John Edwards a few years ago and I don't remember most of the snow job that passed as an interview, but I do remember Oprah asking Elizabeth how it felt to hear she had terminal cancer or. And Elizabeth answered, after having police officers standing at your front door telling you that your sixteen-year-old son was dead that nothing can be as devastating or heartbreaking. I was blown away by that. I imagined or as much as I could imagine, that losing a child was hard but to hear it triumphed learning about your own death shocked me.
I know Mary pondered things and kept them in her heart. But I don't think she knew how it was all going to end. I don't think she knew, from the night in Bethlehem, she would one day hear and learn that a close friend, a brother, to her son would betray Him. I don't think she knew she would sit at the foot of a hill while her son hung on a cross simply because He was the Son of God. I wonder if her heart was eased at all by knowing He died to save her, to save the world. Did that ease her mother's heart? And what joy did she feel when her Son returned? I can't imagine she wanted to let Him out of her sight, to let go of His hand, to stop touching and kissing Him, like she had once done when He was a babe. And was watching Him ascend into heaven to sit at the right hand of His Father make "losing" her firstborn, her baby, a second time any easier?
The things we'll never know or at least not until we get to heaven. Okay, if I could have dinner with any person living or dead, Mary would be one of my invited guests.
Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.
Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.
The blind will see, the deaf will hear and the dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb.
Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am.
I can't remember the first time I heard this song, but I do remember when I heard it it captured my attention. What did Mary know? She knew she was giving birth to God's son, but could she have truly understood what that meant? I don't think so. I thought I knew what it would mean to be a mommy, I imagined what it would be like but then the J-man came along and he blew everything out of the water.
I'm sure she didn't imagine she would give birth "outdoors", placing her newborn in a manger. I wonder what it was like to be chillin' with your firstborn and your man and wise men come presenting your baby with gifts, worshipping Him. Any momentary thoughts that her baby was just like everyone else's I'm sure died quickly then. But there had to be times as she watched the Man who would one day walk on water, calm storms with His words, that He was like other firstborns. His parents excited when He started crawling, talking, and walking.
I'm sure there must have been doubts of her worthiness, how could there not be. I look at my three and can't believe He entrusted me to care for them, teach them, love them. I worry about not making the right decisions and the potential fall out if I get it wrong. I am human. I am a sinner so I will fail them, but God will use my failure to train me and TTT and He will use it all for His glory.
I use to think it would be awesome to have a genius or two or three. Not that they aren't geniuses, but you know to have a genius genius child. But after some thought, the reality of it- - to have a five-year-old who is smarter than me, book wise, would be a hard pill for me to swallow. I'm trying to hang on for dear life with the things that come out of my normal genius five-year-old's mouth. I can't even begin to imagine what it would have been like to rear a child who was perfect. On the upside, Mary never had never situations like these.
Sitting down to rebraid Josephina's (yes, I know Jewish people don't name their children after living relatives but go with me here) hair, Mary never would have said, "Jesus, did you cut your sister's hair again?"
And as she was presented with this fearful/shocked stare, she would have thought did he really think that I wouldn't notice that his sister's braid was noticeable shorter than when I braided it. "Why did you cut her hair?"
"I wanted her to look pretty."
"Josephina, you don't let people come towards you with scissors. Do you understand? And no one cuts your hair."
"Yes, Mommy," Josephina would have responded.
"Jesus, are you suppose to use the scissors?"
"No."
Sighing, Mary would have looked at her two children and said, "Let's not let this happen again."
And they would have both nodded in agreement.
Nope, Mary would have never had that conversation with Jesus. Though that's not to say she didn't have that convo with one of his brothers.
Oprah interviewed Elizabeth and John Edwards a few years ago and I don't remember most of the snow job that passed as an interview, but I do remember Oprah asking Elizabeth how it felt to hear she had terminal cancer or. And Elizabeth answered, after having police officers standing at your front door telling you that your sixteen-year-old son was dead that nothing can be as devastating or heartbreaking. I was blown away by that. I imagined or as much as I could imagine, that losing a child was hard but to hear it triumphed learning about your own death shocked me.
I know Mary pondered things and kept them in her heart. But I don't think she knew how it was all going to end. I don't think she knew, from the night in Bethlehem, she would one day hear and learn that a close friend, a brother, to her son would betray Him. I don't think she knew she would sit at the foot of a hill while her son hung on a cross simply because He was the Son of God. I wonder if her heart was eased at all by knowing He died to save her, to save the world. Did that ease her mother's heart? And what joy did she feel when her Son returned? I can't imagine she wanted to let Him out of her sight, to let go of His hand, to stop touching and kissing Him, like she had once done when He was a babe. And was watching Him ascend into heaven to sit at the right hand of His Father make "losing" her firstborn, her baby, a second time any easier?
The things we'll never know or at least not until we get to heaven. Okay, if I could have dinner with any person living or dead, Mary would be one of my invited guests.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Eight Maids A-Milkin'
Sometimes when I cradle Layla in my arms, a position she hates unless she is asleep, I think and pray for all the people who cradled her when she would have liked that position or when she didn't have the muscle strength to get herself out of their arms. Was it a few nannies in the orphanage or was it a lot? What was she like as a newborn? Did she enjoy being cradled? Could you cradle her and she would instantly go to sleep?
Was she talked to or sang to as she was cradled? Was she cradled and walked the length of the orphanage, the main room the size of two living rooms? Was her face kissed as she was held? Did she hear words of love? Or did none of that happen and that's why she doesn't like me to hold her like that?
I don't know. I'll never know. When I was asked if I had any questions for the nannies, that never popped in my head. I was more concerned about her eating and sleeping habits. The practical things to ask when you're handed a baby you've never met before and are after less than two hours together will be joined together for life and let no man put asunder. If my now self could go back to that "Thank God Lisa and Nancy found the cafe that specialized in American cuisine" self, I don't know if I would have believed such questions would ever be important to me.
Or maybe the practical self I can be would have thought of that Third Day song And so tonight I pray that God will come and hold you in his arms/And tell you from my heart/I wish you Merry Christmas
and still not ask because the ultimate answer is God held her. God cradled her. God loved her, kept her safe, until she was placed in my cradling arms. As Rebecca St. James so simply and brilliant sang, It's God/Truly God/Can you see/Can you hear/Can you touch/Can you feel/It's God/Truly God/I can't explain any other way/Cause it's God, because at the end of the day that's the only answer there is.
I pray when the baby learns her full story as brief as it is that she will have peace, that God will grant her peace, and she will rest her never to be answered questions in truth- - that God sent His only Son to die for her sins because He loved her that much and He always has her back and wants the very best for her because no one has or will ever love her like He does.
Was she talked to or sang to as she was cradled? Was she cradled and walked the length of the orphanage, the main room the size of two living rooms? Was her face kissed as she was held? Did she hear words of love? Or did none of that happen and that's why she doesn't like me to hold her like that?
I don't know. I'll never know. When I was asked if I had any questions for the nannies, that never popped in my head. I was more concerned about her eating and sleeping habits. The practical things to ask when you're handed a baby you've never met before and are after less than two hours together will be joined together for life and let no man put asunder. If my now self could go back to that "Thank God Lisa and Nancy found the cafe that specialized in American cuisine" self, I don't know if I would have believed such questions would ever be important to me.
Or maybe the practical self I can be would have thought of that Third Day song And so tonight I pray that God will come and hold you in his arms/And tell you from my heart/I wish you Merry Christmas
and still not ask because the ultimate answer is God held her. God cradled her. God loved her, kept her safe, until she was placed in my cradling arms. As Rebecca St. James so simply and brilliant sang, It's God/Truly God/Can you see/Can you hear/Can you touch/Can you feel/It's God/Truly God/I can't explain any other way/Cause it's God, because at the end of the day that's the only answer there is.
I pray when the baby learns her full story as brief as it is that she will have peace, that God will grant her peace, and she will rest her never to be answered questions in truth- - that God sent His only Son to die for her sins because He loved her that much and He always has her back and wants the very best for her because no one has or will ever love her like He does.
We're riding in a wonderland of snow
"Baby, who told you you could get an apple?" Oma asked.
"Mommy," she responded, then chomped on her apple.
This baby just threw me under the bus. I hadn't even talked to her in minutes. And she never at any point asked me if she could have an apple.
My baby threw me under the bus. I was too shocked to do anything. I was thrown under the bus.
"Mommy," she responded, then chomped on her apple.
This baby just threw me under the bus. I hadn't even talked to her in minutes. And she never at any point asked me if she could have an apple.
My baby threw me under the bus. I was too shocked to do anything. I was thrown under the bus.
The stars in the sky looked down where He lay
One minute you're on your last morning of wrapping Christmas presents, the next you hear Sean and Gus talking about what great pie they're eating, so good it makes them cry, then you're happy to see Sheryl Lee with a job, and suddenly it all clicks - - OH MY GOSH, Psych is doing an homage to Twin Peaks!!!! Steve Franks is a genius! I knew there was a reason I loved this show! An homage to David Lynch and Mark Frost's brilliant show. GENIUS! What a Christmas treat!!
Okay, words cannot express how great this show was or the joy I felt at this unexpected surprise. I mean one minute you're watching the oldest episode of Pscyh on hulu and then you look up and this episode is on. (FYI - If you watch the oldest episode posted of a show on hulu, it will automatically play the remaining episodes for you. Brilliant!)
This was an unexpected, unasked for Christmas present. Sheryl Lee, Sherilyn Fenn, and Ray Wise. Three original cast members. Maybe there were others I didn't recognize.
The high point besides the joke that the town is so white that a little girl asked Gus if he was Frederick Douglass, was seeing Sheryl Lee kneeling beside the dead, wrapped in plastic, body of a young teenage girl next to the lake. Twenty years or so ago, that was her wrapped in plastic.
You know, I can't even talk about this anymore, other than to say it was ingenious! Ingenious!
Okay, words cannot express how great this show was or the joy I felt at this unexpected surprise. I mean one minute you're watching the oldest episode of Pscyh on hulu and then you look up and this episode is on. (FYI - If you watch the oldest episode posted of a show on hulu, it will automatically play the remaining episodes for you. Brilliant!)
This was an unexpected, unasked for Christmas present. Sheryl Lee, Sherilyn Fenn, and Ray Wise. Three original cast members. Maybe there were others I didn't recognize.
The high point besides the joke that the town is so white that a little girl asked Gus if he was Frederick Douglass, was seeing Sheryl Lee kneeling beside the dead, wrapped in plastic, body of a young teenage girl next to the lake. Twenty years or so ago, that was her wrapped in plastic.
You know, I can't even talk about this anymore, other than to say it was ingenious! Ingenious!
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Later we'll have some pumpkin pie
4AM is a great time to wrap presents, so is 3:30AM, as is 2:30AM. My hour of waking up to wrap kept getting earlier and earlier. And after a while, listening to Christmas cds or watching the brilliant scream Scrooged, one of the all time greatest Christmas movies, gets old so you turn to hulu.
You watch the genius that is 30 Rock. I love Tina Fey! And the cast is just great and always dead on. Only Alec Baldwin could say, "Happy Holidays is what terrorist say, Merry Christmas, Jack and Avery." Only his character would send out such a Christmas card.
Then you watch Community, great show so incredibly underrated...At some point, you've watched all the shows you love, like, and think are okay, and then you turn to other shows. Sometimes you find gems. With Jory's midnight feedings I became a member of Team Coco. With his 2AM, I discovered the joy that is Becker.
Well this Christmas season, I found out that Human Target isn't bad. For some reason, I'm still on the fence about whether I like Mark Valley, but that could be because he was the fake Jack Devaurax on Days of Our Lives. Replacement actors have it so rough. So while I'm not sure about him, the show does also star the wonderful Chi "Why isn't The John Laroquette Show on DVD?" McBride and Jackie Earle Haley, who I had no opinion on until I saw his character is a charming bad boy. I like those charming bad boys.
The show introduced two women characters. The older of the two seems to be an interesting character. The younger of the two is a little over the top obnoxious. We'll see what they do with her in the future.
Human Target is now on the "if I don't have anything else to watch, I'll watch this show" list. It's like my own little Christmas present to the show. Look at me being so giving.
You watch the genius that is 30 Rock. I love Tina Fey! And the cast is just great and always dead on. Only Alec Baldwin could say, "Happy Holidays is what terrorist say, Merry Christmas, Jack and Avery." Only his character would send out such a Christmas card.
Then you watch Community, great show so incredibly underrated...At some point, you've watched all the shows you love, like, and think are okay, and then you turn to other shows. Sometimes you find gems. With Jory's midnight feedings I became a member of Team Coco. With his 2AM, I discovered the joy that is Becker.
Well this Christmas season, I found out that Human Target isn't bad. For some reason, I'm still on the fence about whether I like Mark Valley, but that could be because he was the fake Jack Devaurax on Days of Our Lives. Replacement actors have it so rough. So while I'm not sure about him, the show does also star the wonderful Chi "Why isn't The John Laroquette Show on DVD?" McBride and Jackie Earle Haley, who I had no opinion on until I saw his character is a charming bad boy. I like those charming bad boys.
The show introduced two women characters. The older of the two seems to be an interesting character. The younger of the two is a little over the top obnoxious. We'll see what they do with her in the future.
Human Target is now on the "if I don't have anything else to watch, I'll watch this show" list. It's like my own little Christmas present to the show. Look at me being so giving.
Prospero Ano y Felicidad
You know what I love...
Little boys who know their Christmas speeches and you have to stop them from reciting the other kids in their class parts.
Little girls who know "M" is for the manger where He lay, but can't or refuses to remember "T" is for the three wise men. They who traveled far.
Babies who point out every snowman they see and sings, "Frosty the Snowman," and that's it because that's all they know of the song.
Little boys who even without naps stay up to 1AM. And when you groggily wake up to see them at the toy box and tell them, "Go to bed." You think maybe you should follow them back to bed, but somehow in the next instant you're right back in dreamland.
Little girls who go to bed and are asleep within thirty minutes, even if they aren't tired because they've bored themselves to sleep.
Babies who if you sleep next to them will eventually go to sleep though if not in REM sleep will instantly wake up as soon as you roll out of bed.
Little boys who know their Christmas speeches and you have to stop them from reciting the other kids in their class parts.
Little girls who know "M" is for the manger where He lay, but can't or refuses to remember "T" is for the three wise men. They who traveled far.
Babies who point out every snowman they see and sings, "Frosty the Snowman," and that's it because that's all they know of the song.
Little boys who even without naps stay up to 1AM. And when you groggily wake up to see them at the toy box and tell them, "Go to bed." You think maybe you should follow them back to bed, but somehow in the next instant you're right back in dreamland.
Little girls who go to bed and are asleep within thirty minutes, even if they aren't tired because they've bored themselves to sleep.
Babies who if you sleep next to them will eventually go to sleep though if not in REM sleep will instantly wake up as soon as you roll out of bed.
Good tidings we bring to you and your kin
4AM the perfect time to wrap presents while the terrific trio sleeps, sleeps away. Even the human lojac sleeps through it all - - the shining light, the cutting of the paper, the tape being torn, the folding of the paper, the writing on the name tag, and the placing of the bow. The baby even slept through the various Christmas albums that kept me company.
Last year, I stocked up on Christmas paper. Before I began wrapping, I pondered whether to use my favorite wrapping paper on the kids' presents or on others. TTT or other loved ones? Who gets to enjoy my wonderful brilliant find of A Christmas Story wrapping paper? My other loved ones. I mean it's A Christmas Story wrapping paper, my children are too young to truly appreciate it. I had to share the joy of the movie via wrapping paper to others, when TTT are old enough I will introduce them to the glory of one of the greatest Christmas movies ever made.
One decision down, next I decided to take Christmas in a new direction this year. I gave everyone their own Christmas paper. Oma's is Santa standing next to a Christmas tree on blue paper. Jory's is a simple, but elegant green and white stripe. Rowan's is a snowman on a dull green paper. And Layla's is snowmen in groups of three on lively green paper. This new system in theory will make handing out Christmas presents easier on that glorious Christmas morn.
Aww, the genius ideas you get when wrapping presents in the Christmas spirit with Christmas tunes buzzing in your ears at 4AM.
Last year, I stocked up on Christmas paper. Before I began wrapping, I pondered whether to use my favorite wrapping paper on the kids' presents or on others. TTT or other loved ones? Who gets to enjoy my wonderful brilliant find of A Christmas Story wrapping paper? My other loved ones. I mean it's A Christmas Story wrapping paper, my children are too young to truly appreciate it. I had to share the joy of the movie via wrapping paper to others, when TTT are old enough I will introduce them to the glory of one of the greatest Christmas movies ever made.
One decision down, next I decided to take Christmas in a new direction this year. I gave everyone their own Christmas paper. Oma's is Santa standing next to a Christmas tree on blue paper. Jory's is a simple, but elegant green and white stripe. Rowan's is a snowman on a dull green paper. And Layla's is snowmen in groups of three on lively green paper. This new system in theory will make handing out Christmas presents easier on that glorious Christmas morn.
Aww, the genius ideas you get when wrapping presents in the Christmas spirit with Christmas tunes buzzing in your ears at 4AM.
If not for Christmas, by New Year's night
On Saturday, we went to an awesome Christmas party hosted by a wonderful organization, Child S.H.A.R.E. - http://childshare.org/, whose ministry is to spread the word about adoption and fostering in churches, to believers, and supporting families who are fostering and adopting. Over the years, we were always going to go to the party but some mishap always happened. This year, praise the Lord, we made it. I'm so glad we did because after hearing Jory's tales of meeting Santa, Rowan had been asking me if she and the baby could meet Santa too.
I don't know what I was imagining, but it definitely wasn't what I saw. Wait, that didn't sound right. It was better than anything I could have imagined. A wonderful helper helped us find a table to sit at as everyone sang Christmas songs and signed. After singing a rousing song which included a line that wished Jesus, a happy birthday, Santa arrived.
A short while after Santa's arrival, we thought we were standing in the food line, but it turned out to be the Santa picture line. The kids were excited. They couldn't wait to meet Santa, to take a picture with him. I was ready armed with my camera.
Unlike other families, I decided this should be a kid only Santa picture. Walking the baby I was carrying over to Santa, as Rowan and Jory eagerly posed next to him and chatted him up, I discovered the baby was having none of it.
"No, Mommy!" she voiced loudly, as she clung to me. She wasn't about to let me dump her in the lap of the man whom she pointed out in pictures, figurines, dolls. The man whose name she constantly cried out excitedly as we stood in line and when she heard Santa was coming.
I was surprised, shocked by her behavior. She, out of all my children, is the fearless one. The photograph positioned the other two kids and said to me, "On the count of three put her in the picture."
I wasn't sure I heard her correctly, then she counted to three and she said, "Put her in."
I ran to put Layla on Santa's lap, but Layla wasn't feeling it. Once again she vocalized her dislike of the "man" holding her. So the photographer snapped the other two with the man with the beard and amazingly for the first time ever, Rowan actually smiled in the photo. Rowan never smiles in pictures. Maybe it was Santa or hopefully she's finally coming out of her shell and my Easter/birthday pictures won't have a little girl with tears in her eyes or looking like she just cried in them for the first time ever. Or a girl sucking her thumb. Please Lord let the smiling stick.
The photographer downloaded our picture to the printer and within a manner of minutes I had the adorable picture my two older babies took.
Then the party assistant came to me and asked, "Do you want to try it again?"
I had thought about it, but the baby was not listening to reason and was refusing to take a picture with the "man." But maybe they knew of a way that I hadn't thought of.
The photographer walked up to the baby and said, "Santa is not going to touch you, talk to you, or look at you. You're going to sit in your mommy's lap."
This woman spoke the baby's language. How many times has the baby said to her siblings or her siblings to her, "Don't look at me. Don't talk to me. She/He touched me."? And when you ask Layla my name she answers, "My Mommy." Loving what the photograper was saying, I was allowed to sit next to Santa with her on my lap, though she did keep her back to him. Quickly the photographer took the picture. Upon seeing this, Rowan and Jory rushed back to the sleigh to be in the picture and we took a family shot.
While this was a Christmas party, it never occurred to me to dress the kids in their Christmas outfits. Obviously I had on my Christmas attire courtesy of Chi Chi's gift one year of a green reindeer t-shirt and my Christmas earrings, but the kids only had red on by luck of the draw. On Black Friday, I bought the Irish twins some matching outfits and the tops happened to be red. And after seeing the girls both in red, I put Jory in a red top though I had considered putting him in a green one since his red one wouldn't be matching the girls. But ultimately red reigned for Jory. The family shot turned out nicely, but it would have been nicer had I had on a red top too because right now, I'm the green shirt wearing woman who is randomly holding one of the three obvious siblings in the pic. Oh well, next year the Lord willing we'll go to the party again and we'll be dressed correctly. And maybe next Christmas the baby won't be afraid of the "man."
After the wonderful party, we went to swimming lessons. Rowan was back to screaming as Mr. Will taught her how to jump in the pool. So her screaming caused the baby to start crying. I'm amazed Rowan doesn't crack glass with those piercing screams of hers. Swimming finally concluded and during the dressing process the kids underwent a change and emerged non-listening children. The highlight of dinner being...
"Layla, if you don't stop it, I will remove you from the table."
"No, you won't."
It's so sad when two-year-olds lose the good minds God gives them. So I had to pick her up and show her what happens when we go crazy. She wasn't happy to be laying on the bed, especially when I said no to her request to get up after being on the bed for less than a minute.
Dinner became a don't talk affair because I was about to go crazy. And all thoughts of decorating the Christmas tree died. I just wanted everyone bathed, dressed for bed, and asleep as quickly as humanly possible.
Ah, children they take you to such peaks and valleys.
I don't know what I was imagining, but it definitely wasn't what I saw. Wait, that didn't sound right. It was better than anything I could have imagined. A wonderful helper helped us find a table to sit at as everyone sang Christmas songs and signed. After singing a rousing song which included a line that wished Jesus, a happy birthday, Santa arrived.
A short while after Santa's arrival, we thought we were standing in the food line, but it turned out to be the Santa picture line. The kids were excited. They couldn't wait to meet Santa, to take a picture with him. I was ready armed with my camera.
Unlike other families, I decided this should be a kid only Santa picture. Walking the baby I was carrying over to Santa, as Rowan and Jory eagerly posed next to him and chatted him up, I discovered the baby was having none of it.
"No, Mommy!" she voiced loudly, as she clung to me. She wasn't about to let me dump her in the lap of the man whom she pointed out in pictures, figurines, dolls. The man whose name she constantly cried out excitedly as we stood in line and when she heard Santa was coming.
I was surprised, shocked by her behavior. She, out of all my children, is the fearless one. The photograph positioned the other two kids and said to me, "On the count of three put her in the picture."
I wasn't sure I heard her correctly, then she counted to three and she said, "Put her in."
I ran to put Layla on Santa's lap, but Layla wasn't feeling it. Once again she vocalized her dislike of the "man" holding her. So the photographer snapped the other two with the man with the beard and amazingly for the first time ever, Rowan actually smiled in the photo. Rowan never smiles in pictures. Maybe it was Santa or hopefully she's finally coming out of her shell and my Easter/birthday pictures won't have a little girl with tears in her eyes or looking like she just cried in them for the first time ever. Or a girl sucking her thumb. Please Lord let the smiling stick.
The photographer downloaded our picture to the printer and within a manner of minutes I had the adorable picture my two older babies took.
Then the party assistant came to me and asked, "Do you want to try it again?"
I had thought about it, but the baby was not listening to reason and was refusing to take a picture with the "man." But maybe they knew of a way that I hadn't thought of.
The photographer walked up to the baby and said, "Santa is not going to touch you, talk to you, or look at you. You're going to sit in your mommy's lap."
This woman spoke the baby's language. How many times has the baby said to her siblings or her siblings to her, "Don't look at me. Don't talk to me. She/He touched me."? And when you ask Layla my name she answers, "My Mommy." Loving what the photograper was saying, I was allowed to sit next to Santa with her on my lap, though she did keep her back to him. Quickly the photographer took the picture. Upon seeing this, Rowan and Jory rushed back to the sleigh to be in the picture and we took a family shot.
While this was a Christmas party, it never occurred to me to dress the kids in their Christmas outfits. Obviously I had on my Christmas attire courtesy of Chi Chi's gift one year of a green reindeer t-shirt and my Christmas earrings, but the kids only had red on by luck of the draw. On Black Friday, I bought the Irish twins some matching outfits and the tops happened to be red. And after seeing the girls both in red, I put Jory in a red top though I had considered putting him in a green one since his red one wouldn't be matching the girls. But ultimately red reigned for Jory. The family shot turned out nicely, but it would have been nicer had I had on a red top too because right now, I'm the green shirt wearing woman who is randomly holding one of the three obvious siblings in the pic. Oh well, next year the Lord willing we'll go to the party again and we'll be dressed correctly. And maybe next Christmas the baby won't be afraid of the "man."
After the wonderful party, we went to swimming lessons. Rowan was back to screaming as Mr. Will taught her how to jump in the pool. So her screaming caused the baby to start crying. I'm amazed Rowan doesn't crack glass with those piercing screams of hers. Swimming finally concluded and during the dressing process the kids underwent a change and emerged non-listening children. The highlight of dinner being...
"Layla, if you don't stop it, I will remove you from the table."
"No, you won't."
It's so sad when two-year-olds lose the good minds God gives them. So I had to pick her up and show her what happens when we go crazy. She wasn't happy to be laying on the bed, especially when I said no to her request to get up after being on the bed for less than a minute.
Dinner became a don't talk affair because I was about to go crazy. And all thoughts of decorating the Christmas tree died. I just wanted everyone bathed, dressed for bed, and asleep as quickly as humanly possible.
Ah, children they take you to such peaks and valleys.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Born is the King
I got out of bed but before my feet could even make it the four steps to the door, the crying began.
"Mommy," the human lojac cried.
"Baby, go back to sleep," I crooned, getting back in the bed to soothe her back to sleep.
"Mommy."
"I'm just going to the bathroom. Go back to sleep and Mommy will be right back."
"Wanna go with you," she continued.
Oh fine. Getting out of bed, I turned towards her and open my arms. She eagerly stood up, fell into my arms laying her head on my shoulder.
"Cherrios," she whispered to me.
"Layla, you are not getting any cheerios."
"Milk."
After a quick pit stop, we headed into the kitchen. I had been up for nearly three hours, it was time for a snack.
"Cheerios."
"Baby, all two-years-old are asleep at a quarter to five. You are not getting any cheerios or milk," I responded to her requests.
I sat her down on the counter as I took out the makings for a sandwich.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the bread.
"Bread."
"Oh. Making me and you sandwich?" she inquired, pointing between the two of us.
"No, I'm making me a sandwich because you're going back to sleep."
"Oh. That your meat?"
"Yes," I answered as I put the pork chop in the microwave. These pork chops Oma made are to die for. No, they are like butah.
Pork chop warmed, sandwich made, soda poured, while the should be sleeping two-year-old looked on. She climbed on my back and we headed back to the room. She got off my back and laid down in her spot.
I got in bed and she looked to me then to the sandwich and back. She sat up and pointed to/touched the bread. "Have some?"
I am reminded of why I eat when others are sleep and their Oma really needs to stop giving them some of her food every time she gets some. I am not going to be the mom from The Christmas Story who had never eaten a hot meal in the last twenty years. But Christmas time is here... "One bite."
She smiled, nodded, and lowered her head to take a bite. Shouldn't babies eat baby type foods, delicate things, not bites of their mommy's pork chop sandwich? Chewing happily, she thought she should test her luck. After swallowing, her gaze turned to the cup on the nightstand. "That your soda?"
"Yes."
"Have some, please?"
"No, baby, you need to go to bed." Plus you are soaking through your nighttime diapers and Mommy would really like to stop supporting the diaper industry. I've been doing it since 2004 and I would like a break. Though I'm not sure if she's really soaking through or if these Pamper Cruisers just aren't as hefty as our beloved buy of bulk Huggies.
The baby looked at me and decided it was best to lay down. I continued eating my sandwich and as I got to the last few bites and she looked at me sadly.
"Some?"
"Some, what?"
"Some, please?"
"Okay."
She joyously sat up, opened wide, and smacked down. No wonder this kid is so spoiled.
With the chewing completed, she smiled at me. The kid has a killer smile and to think once upon a time she wouldn't even smile at me. She snuggled back into her sleeping spot and closed her eyes. 5AM and my pork chop eating lojac was drifting back off to sleep. Ah, early mornings with the baby. Followed by fun nights with older kids.
This evening with multiple stops and loading the car made us super late for AWANA but I persevered. Can I tell you twelve-year-old boys have interesting minds? Frustrating minds? Like bang your head against the wall frustrating kind of minds? They make for interesting car companions.
For the first time, I was babyless because when I got home the baby was the only one, after spending the day at home with Oma, who wasn't dressed.
"Why isn't she dressed?" I asked.
"She didn't know where her clothes were," Oma replied.
"She doesn't know where her clothes are, but Jory does."
"Oh."
Deep breath. This is a ploy. I got it. If Oma doesn't want someone to go somewhere, it's because that particular child didn't know where to find his or her clothes or shoes. Suspiciously, Jory, as the oldest, the Yoda of TTT, in these circumstances is never asked where anything is. And now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the baby knows where her pants are and can reach them. But bygones! This is the Oma way to keep one or more of her babies with her.
So since I was by myself at AWANA, I decided to call my Friday night pal, Roanna, and walk to McDonald's. My Lean Cuisine lunch had long since fled my tummy. I pressed Ro's button, but no Ro. What kind of alternate last AWANA of 2010 did I step into? No baby, no Ro, no stop at Goodwill, but I continued on.
After the walk to McD's, I quietly settled into the nursery as a dad tried to rock his baby daughter to sleep. I ate as quietly as I could to keep with the ambiance. With my meal completed, I dumped my purse and prepared for part two of the evening, returns. I separated Black Friday receipts. This night with a twelve-year-old, seven-year-old, five-year-old, and three-year-old, we're returning Black Friday gifts. Yeah! I had my game plan, JCP, the evil place known as Kohl's, then back down to Pic N Save, Toys, finish up with Target, then take the older two children home.
I heard the Cubbies saying, "Merry Christmas," and parents picking up children, as I was just finishing up. Let's get this party started. I grab everyone from their various classes, hug some friends goodbye, and we head out the door.
First stop at JCP, a semi-success, they no longer had the cute black pants I wanted for the girls. Instead I had to get some not so thrilled with black jogging type pants. And I refuse to start on my rant that not every little girl in the world needs to have blouses with flowers or butterflies or obnoxious sayings like, "I'm a diva" or "2 cute," on them. I don't find those sayings cute and I would just love a simple pink blouse once and a while. My goodness is that too much to ask for? Okay, I did rant.
Then I remembered, we had to stop at Macy's and return some shirts. I was a woman on a mission with four children. Can I ask why children act like escaped convicts when they are inside stores? Or why they act like stores are their personal playgrounds? Consequences for continued escaped convict actions are given.
Macy's was a success. We came in as the saleswoman was organizing the section with the shirt we needed to exchange. SCORE!
Out the mall and onto Kohl's where I saw cash registers I don't think I saw on Black Friday or maybe I couldn't seem them because the twelve billion people in the store were covering them. This place is evil. My twelve-year-old tried to hand me a card, where I could get 15% off if I gave them my email address. I shook my head. I'm never coming here again.
And we were off. Why was Pic N Save closed? Don't they know it's Christmas time and they should be open to 11, if not midnight? Fine, luckily I noticed this before I turned, onward Dasher to Toys. The kids stood in line, while I asked a sales associate where the View Finder slides were. He counted and said, seven aisles back to your right. I was suspicious. Why am I suspicious of salesclerks in a store? Maybe because sometimes you get the feeling, they will say anything to get rid of you because they don't want to be bothered. But I counted and he was right. I was shocked. And just as I predicted only Disney options were available. And as Rox and Deedee predicted nature slides were available. The girls got Disney and Jory got dinosaurs.
I ran back to the front of the store, did our returns, ran into a slight credit card problem, but I didn't allow the clerk to detour me. Success! We were out the store and with ten minutes to spare before Target closed. Thank goodness it's next door, though really people you could have left the parking lot opened. Now I have to drive out one shopping center, go to the light, then enter the next driveway, but bygones.
Everyone jumped out, I threw everything into the shopping cart and in we went. We were the only ones doing returns. And as the clerk was doing the returns, I asked myself why don't I shop here more? Why don't I buy all my things at the wonderful place that doesn't necessarily need a receipt for a return as long as you made your purchase on a credit card or with a check? That- - that is brilliance! Why don't more stores have that? Though I think K-Mart does.
The clerk finished with me only issuing two reminders to sit down and keep it down, and really that last one was to Rowan who is taking to the baby's way of talking, which means everything is shouted or said in a very loud voice. I wonder if the baby thinks we're deaf?
We're done! It's 11PM, Target is shutting off lights and we're heading home. SCORE!!! I'm a total rock star! I think Oma was a little suspicious and thought I couldn't do it. Ha! Does she not know I'm a returning rock star!
"Mommy," the human lojac cried.
"Baby, go back to sleep," I crooned, getting back in the bed to soothe her back to sleep.
"Mommy."
"I'm just going to the bathroom. Go back to sleep and Mommy will be right back."
"Wanna go with you," she continued.
Oh fine. Getting out of bed, I turned towards her and open my arms. She eagerly stood up, fell into my arms laying her head on my shoulder.
"Cherrios," she whispered to me.
"Layla, you are not getting any cheerios."
"Milk."
After a quick pit stop, we headed into the kitchen. I had been up for nearly three hours, it was time for a snack.
"Cheerios."
"Baby, all two-years-old are asleep at a quarter to five. You are not getting any cheerios or milk," I responded to her requests.
I sat her down on the counter as I took out the makings for a sandwich.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the bread.
"Bread."
"Oh. Making me and you sandwich?" she inquired, pointing between the two of us.
"No, I'm making me a sandwich because you're going back to sleep."
"Oh. That your meat?"
"Yes," I answered as I put the pork chop in the microwave. These pork chops Oma made are to die for. No, they are like butah.
Pork chop warmed, sandwich made, soda poured, while the should be sleeping two-year-old looked on. She climbed on my back and we headed back to the room. She got off my back and laid down in her spot.
I got in bed and she looked to me then to the sandwich and back. She sat up and pointed to/touched the bread. "Have some?"
I am reminded of why I eat when others are sleep and their Oma really needs to stop giving them some of her food every time she gets some. I am not going to be the mom from The Christmas Story who had never eaten a hot meal in the last twenty years. But Christmas time is here... "One bite."
She smiled, nodded, and lowered her head to take a bite. Shouldn't babies eat baby type foods, delicate things, not bites of their mommy's pork chop sandwich? Chewing happily, she thought she should test her luck. After swallowing, her gaze turned to the cup on the nightstand. "That your soda?"
"Yes."
"Have some, please?"
"No, baby, you need to go to bed." Plus you are soaking through your nighttime diapers and Mommy would really like to stop supporting the diaper industry. I've been doing it since 2004 and I would like a break. Though I'm not sure if she's really soaking through or if these Pamper Cruisers just aren't as hefty as our beloved buy of bulk Huggies.
The baby looked at me and decided it was best to lay down. I continued eating my sandwich and as I got to the last few bites and she looked at me sadly.
"Some?"
"Some, what?"
"Some, please?"
"Okay."
She joyously sat up, opened wide, and smacked down. No wonder this kid is so spoiled.
With the chewing completed, she smiled at me. The kid has a killer smile and to think once upon a time she wouldn't even smile at me. She snuggled back into her sleeping spot and closed her eyes. 5AM and my pork chop eating lojac was drifting back off to sleep. Ah, early mornings with the baby. Followed by fun nights with older kids.
This evening with multiple stops and loading the car made us super late for AWANA but I persevered. Can I tell you twelve-year-old boys have interesting minds? Frustrating minds? Like bang your head against the wall frustrating kind of minds? They make for interesting car companions.
For the first time, I was babyless because when I got home the baby was the only one, after spending the day at home with Oma, who wasn't dressed.
"Why isn't she dressed?" I asked.
"She didn't know where her clothes were," Oma replied.
"She doesn't know where her clothes are, but Jory does."
"Oh."
Deep breath. This is a ploy. I got it. If Oma doesn't want someone to go somewhere, it's because that particular child didn't know where to find his or her clothes or shoes. Suspiciously, Jory, as the oldest, the Yoda of TTT, in these circumstances is never asked where anything is. And now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the baby knows where her pants are and can reach them. But bygones! This is the Oma way to keep one or more of her babies with her.
So since I was by myself at AWANA, I decided to call my Friday night pal, Roanna, and walk to McDonald's. My Lean Cuisine lunch had long since fled my tummy. I pressed Ro's button, but no Ro. What kind of alternate last AWANA of 2010 did I step into? No baby, no Ro, no stop at Goodwill, but I continued on.
After the walk to McD's, I quietly settled into the nursery as a dad tried to rock his baby daughter to sleep. I ate as quietly as I could to keep with the ambiance. With my meal completed, I dumped my purse and prepared for part two of the evening, returns. I separated Black Friday receipts. This night with a twelve-year-old, seven-year-old, five-year-old, and three-year-old, we're returning Black Friday gifts. Yeah! I had my game plan, JCP, the evil place known as Kohl's, then back down to Pic N Save, Toys, finish up with Target, then take the older two children home.
I heard the Cubbies saying, "Merry Christmas," and parents picking up children, as I was just finishing up. Let's get this party started. I grab everyone from their various classes, hug some friends goodbye, and we head out the door.
First stop at JCP, a semi-success, they no longer had the cute black pants I wanted for the girls. Instead I had to get some not so thrilled with black jogging type pants. And I refuse to start on my rant that not every little girl in the world needs to have blouses with flowers or butterflies or obnoxious sayings like, "I'm a diva" or "2 cute," on them. I don't find those sayings cute and I would just love a simple pink blouse once and a while. My goodness is that too much to ask for? Okay, I did rant.
Then I remembered, we had to stop at Macy's and return some shirts. I was a woman on a mission with four children. Can I ask why children act like escaped convicts when they are inside stores? Or why they act like stores are their personal playgrounds? Consequences for continued escaped convict actions are given.
Macy's was a success. We came in as the saleswoman was organizing the section with the shirt we needed to exchange. SCORE!
Out the mall and onto Kohl's where I saw cash registers I don't think I saw on Black Friday or maybe I couldn't seem them because the twelve billion people in the store were covering them. This place is evil. My twelve-year-old tried to hand me a card, where I could get 15% off if I gave them my email address. I shook my head. I'm never coming here again.
And we were off. Why was Pic N Save closed? Don't they know it's Christmas time and they should be open to 11, if not midnight? Fine, luckily I noticed this before I turned, onward Dasher to Toys. The kids stood in line, while I asked a sales associate where the View Finder slides were. He counted and said, seven aisles back to your right. I was suspicious. Why am I suspicious of salesclerks in a store? Maybe because sometimes you get the feeling, they will say anything to get rid of you because they don't want to be bothered. But I counted and he was right. I was shocked. And just as I predicted only Disney options were available. And as Rox and Deedee predicted nature slides were available. The girls got Disney and Jory got dinosaurs.
I ran back to the front of the store, did our returns, ran into a slight credit card problem, but I didn't allow the clerk to detour me. Success! We were out the store and with ten minutes to spare before Target closed. Thank goodness it's next door, though really people you could have left the parking lot opened. Now I have to drive out one shopping center, go to the light, then enter the next driveway, but bygones.
Everyone jumped out, I threw everything into the shopping cart and in we went. We were the only ones doing returns. And as the clerk was doing the returns, I asked myself why don't I shop here more? Why don't I buy all my things at the wonderful place that doesn't necessarily need a receipt for a return as long as you made your purchase on a credit card or with a check? That- - that is brilliance! Why don't more stores have that? Though I think K-Mart does.
The clerk finished with me only issuing two reminders to sit down and keep it down, and really that last one was to Rowan who is taking to the baby's way of talking, which means everything is shouted or said in a very loud voice. I wonder if the baby thinks we're deaf?
We're done! It's 11PM, Target is shutting off lights and we're heading home. SCORE!!! I'm a total rock star! I think Oma was a little suspicious and thought I couldn't do it. Ha! Does she not know I'm a returning rock star!
Thursday, December 9, 2010
And wonders of His love
This evening just after the sun set, the baby, Jory, and I walked to the local shopping center to purchase some colored or blinking lights, after discovering all the lights for our tree either didn't work or only half the lights worked. As we started our journey, I noticed a young man, maybe a teen walking ahead of us. I let Jory run ahead a bit, get some of the energy out. When he ran too far, I would call him back to the baby, who had to be carried because as of late the only shoes she can find to put on belong to Rowan, and I.
A few minutes into the walk, he ran back to me.
"He's not nice, Mommy. He threw his trash on the ground. He's not nice. Is he?"
I could still see the young man walking ahead of us, but I had missed him throwing anything on the ground. "He could be nice, but what he did wasn't nice."
"What he did wasn't nice?"
"Yes."
"Cause we don't throw trash in the street."
"Exactly."
Jory seemed to accept this and ran off to continue to burn off energy.
When we crossed the street onto the next block, Jory once again ran ahead but it was slightly darker and I couldn't see him as well. Just as I was about to call him he came running back.
"Mommy, he's not nice again."
"No, he can be nice, but what he did wasn't nice."
"He told me to get out of his face."
I paused, grabbed Jory's hand, and turned his face towards me. "What?!"
"He told me to get out of his face."
"Why did he say that to you?"
"I told him to pick up his trash and he said, 'Get out of my face.'"
Oh Jory. "Baby, you can't go up to strangers and tell them what to do." How do I explain to him that while he had the best of intentions and was in the right, he couldn't force someone else to do what's right.
"But he wasn't nice again."
"No, what he said to you wasn't nice and what he did wasn't right, but we can't make him do what's right."
My well-intentioned baby nodded his head and I waited until the teen in the blue walked completely out of sight before continuing on our trek. Who tells a baby to get out of his face?
What have we become
Have we come undone
What have we become
"Mommy, whose on the phone with Oma?"
"I don't know."
"Aunt Brenda?"
"I don't know. I think she's talking to Ronnie."
"Ronnie."
"Yes." Okay, end of conversation or so I thought. After a minute's pause, Rowan started up again.
"I thought she was talking to Miss Sarah."
"No, Oma is not talking to Miss Sarah."
"What is Miss Sarah doing? Eating dinner?"
I glanced at my watch. "I think it's too late for her to be eating dinner."
"Is she taking a shower?"
"Maybe."
"Getting dressed for bed?"
"I'm not sure, Rowan."
She shook her head, making it even more difficult to braid her hair. "Miss Sarah can't be getting dressed for bed because she doesn't have a bed."
Braiding stopped. "Miss Sarah doesn't have a bed?"
She shook her head again.
"Yes, she does."
"Not in her house."
"Yes, in her house."
"I didn't see any."
Awwww. My friend, Marcus, had recently had a discussion with me about the stories children create for themselves in order to make sense of their world. In the mind of this three-year-old, you don't see any bedrooms, then bedrooms don't exist in that particular house.
"Miss Sarah's house had bedrooms. She just had the doors closed." In her auntie wisdom, Miss Sarah closed the bedroom doors, but left the bathroom door open with the lights on. Genius! No one had to be taken to the bathroom. Or could get lost looking for it or trying to remember where it was. It was kid friendly to find. We love Miss Sarah. "You just didn't see her bedrooms."
Amazing how Rowan's mind led her to believe Sarah's house had no bedrooms because she didn't see any, didn't go in any. The human mind so uniquely and wonderfully made.
This morning started off great. I took a break from 4AM Christmas wrapping and Christmas music listening and just chilaxed. Well, until the baby woke up crying. I tried to comfort her where she lay to ease her gently back into sleep, but she wasn't having it. I scooted closer to her, laid my head next to hers, and continued to rub her side. She didn't want that and continued to cry half-asleep/half-awake. Just as I was about to pick her up, she pushed my head and opened her arms wide. I gently laid my head on her chest and her little baby arms circled my head and the crying stopped. Aww, my baby just wanted to hold me as she drifted back off into dreamland. I so love this kid. Babies rock!!
A few minutes into the walk, he ran back to me.
"He's not nice, Mommy. He threw his trash on the ground. He's not nice. Is he?"
I could still see the young man walking ahead of us, but I had missed him throwing anything on the ground. "He could be nice, but what he did wasn't nice."
"What he did wasn't nice?"
"Yes."
"Cause we don't throw trash in the street."
"Exactly."
Jory seemed to accept this and ran off to continue to burn off energy.
When we crossed the street onto the next block, Jory once again ran ahead but it was slightly darker and I couldn't see him as well. Just as I was about to call him he came running back.
"Mommy, he's not nice again."
"No, he can be nice, but what he did wasn't nice."
"He told me to get out of his face."
I paused, grabbed Jory's hand, and turned his face towards me. "What?!"
"He told me to get out of his face."
"Why did he say that to you?"
"I told him to pick up his trash and he said, 'Get out of my face.'"
Oh Jory. "Baby, you can't go up to strangers and tell them what to do." How do I explain to him that while he had the best of intentions and was in the right, he couldn't force someone else to do what's right.
"But he wasn't nice again."
"No, what he said to you wasn't nice and what he did wasn't right, but we can't make him do what's right."
My well-intentioned baby nodded his head and I waited until the teen in the blue walked completely out of sight before continuing on our trek. Who tells a baby to get out of his face?
What have we become
Have we come undone
What have we become
"Mommy, whose on the phone with Oma?"
"I don't know."
"Aunt Brenda?"
"I don't know. I think she's talking to Ronnie."
"Ronnie."
"Yes." Okay, end of conversation or so I thought. After a minute's pause, Rowan started up again.
"I thought she was talking to Miss Sarah."
"No, Oma is not talking to Miss Sarah."
"What is Miss Sarah doing? Eating dinner?"
I glanced at my watch. "I think it's too late for her to be eating dinner."
"Is she taking a shower?"
"Maybe."
"Getting dressed for bed?"
"I'm not sure, Rowan."
She shook her head, making it even more difficult to braid her hair. "Miss Sarah can't be getting dressed for bed because she doesn't have a bed."
Braiding stopped. "Miss Sarah doesn't have a bed?"
She shook her head again.
"Yes, she does."
"Not in her house."
"Yes, in her house."
"I didn't see any."
Awwww. My friend, Marcus, had recently had a discussion with me about the stories children create for themselves in order to make sense of their world. In the mind of this three-year-old, you don't see any bedrooms, then bedrooms don't exist in that particular house.
"Miss Sarah's house had bedrooms. She just had the doors closed." In her auntie wisdom, Miss Sarah closed the bedroom doors, but left the bathroom door open with the lights on. Genius! No one had to be taken to the bathroom. Or could get lost looking for it or trying to remember where it was. It was kid friendly to find. We love Miss Sarah. "You just didn't see her bedrooms."
Amazing how Rowan's mind led her to believe Sarah's house had no bedrooms because she didn't see any, didn't go in any. The human mind so uniquely and wonderfully made.
This morning started off great. I took a break from 4AM Christmas wrapping and Christmas music listening and just chilaxed. Well, until the baby woke up crying. I tried to comfort her where she lay to ease her gently back into sleep, but she wasn't having it. I scooted closer to her, laid my head next to hers, and continued to rub her side. She didn't want that and continued to cry half-asleep/half-awake. Just as I was about to pick her up, she pushed my head and opened her arms wide. I gently laid my head on her chest and her little baby arms circled my head and the crying stopped. Aww, my baby just wanted to hold me as she drifted back off into dreamland. I so love this kid. Babies rock!!
Round yon virgin, Mother and Child
This is a small post, more of a rant about the sexism that exist when it comes to children's clothing. Why is it that I can walk into practically any store and buy the Irish twins fancy dresses, casual dresses, sweaters, shirts, blouses all with a Christmas theme, but I go to the boys' section and there's nada, zip? Really would it kill a designer to make a 4-piece outfit at Christmas time with a Christmas tie? Herrooo, as Lala says, it's a clip-on, the rest of the year I could switch it out for another clip-on tie. Wait, I don't even know if I even seen any Christmas ties for boys.
And why can't I find a suit with a red shirt or a vibrant green one? I'm not saying the pants and vests or jacket has to be showered with reindeer or Santa Claus or Baby Jesus in a manager. All I'm asking for is a pair of pants with a vest/jacket paired with a red or green dress shirt. Is that brain surgery? Who works at these fashion houses? Who are the designers and how can I get in contact with them to explain a mom's simple desire? Is it too much to ask when the baby and her older sister are dressed in too die for Christmas dresses at church that Jory be equally as cute in his Christmas attire too? Really is this too much to ask? Apparently so.
When I open my clothing store, I'm going to sell classic items for children at reasonable prices. And at Christmas time, you can dress your whole family Christmasy, boys included.
And why can't I find a suit with a red shirt or a vibrant green one? I'm not saying the pants and vests or jacket has to be showered with reindeer or Santa Claus or Baby Jesus in a manager. All I'm asking for is a pair of pants with a vest/jacket paired with a red or green dress shirt. Is that brain surgery? Who works at these fashion houses? Who are the designers and how can I get in contact with them to explain a mom's simple desire? Is it too much to ask when the baby and her older sister are dressed in too die for Christmas dresses at church that Jory be equally as cute in his Christmas attire too? Really is this too much to ask? Apparently so.
When I open my clothing store, I'm going to sell classic items for children at reasonable prices. And at Christmas time, you can dress your whole family Christmasy, boys included.
It's Christmas time in the city
I LOVE ROSS!!! Now let's start at the beginning. When someone suggests going to Ross to me, I have to be in the right frame of mind; ready to look through racks on tops of racks in order to find something in my size. Because sometimes that store looks like things are just thrown out of the boxes they come in and wherever they land that's where they stay. And then if or when you find something, you have to deal with super slow moving line. Today my buddy, Ann, said she needed a Christmas sweater for a party and asked me to look with her.
Christmas sweater Yash to the rescue! So off we went to Ross, which is closest to our job, only to discover they really didn't have any. Or at least any hanging in a seemingly normal place to hang. I told her since we couldn't find Christmas sweaters, then second best would be a really vibrant sweater in Christmas colors, red or green or purple, if we got desperate. We jokingly looked at some gold lame. But I told her/reminded her gold lame and sparkly tops say, Holiday party, particularly holiday evening party, not Christmas party. We went our separate ways and I saw a lively green sweater and it was under her price limit. Unfortunately I saw it when one older woman was showing it to her friend and convinced her friend to at least put the sweater in her shopping cart. NO!!!!
I checked the racks to see if I could find another sweater, like the women had. At one point, the friend looked like she was putting it back but her friend convinced to keep it. So it mocked me, laying on top of her other items like, "Ha! Ha! She might not buy me, but maybe she will and you'll never know." Evil green sweater! Then I decided to discretely recheck the racks aka follow the women hoping they would put the sweater back for just a second so I could jump on it, but no such luck.
In my search, I did find some red sweaters that were acceptable. And funny after I gave up on the green sweater and showed Ann what I found, my favorite pick being a red turtleneck type sweater, we discovered she had picked out the exact same sweater. SCORE! She also picked up a "Christmas" shirt. It was rust colored and I think had leaves on it. Uh, dudes, the reason your "Christmas" shirt is at Ross is because throwing Santa on a shirt doesn't make it Christmasy. And Santa can't be seen on a dull colored shirt. And Santa isn't a fall dude. He doesn't need to be on shirts with leaves. He's busy working during Halloween and Thanksgiving time. He needs to be surrounded by snowflakes because he's a WINTER MAN! As you can tell, I wasn't a fan of the shirt.
Once Ann made a decision I decided to hop in line since Ross is so slow. I saw a short line and ran to get in it, but the Loss Protection guy said, the line was closed but to get in line in the front. He said, the line was moving quickly. I sighed with disappointment at that statement, who did he think he was talking to a Ross newbie? I walked to the front of the store knowing we'd be spending an extra hour of our lunch in the line.
I stood in line and Ann walked up to find me behind 10 other people and went to do some more shopping. I was in it for the long haul. But to my shock and surprise, the line started moving and moving and moving. Oh my goodness, the dude was right. The line moved so quickly I let another person go in front of me because Ann was still gone.
When we got to the counter, she asked the sales clerk about the change. And the woman admitted, they started adding extra registers and cashiers a la a real store. As we walked out the store, we were amazed that it finally occurred to the executives at Ross that in order to make money you shouldn't drive away customers who get frustrated by standing for hours on end in slow moving lines. I am now a fan of Ross! Now if they could only do something about their stores' organization style.
Christmas sweater Yash to the rescue! So off we went to Ross, which is closest to our job, only to discover they really didn't have any. Or at least any hanging in a seemingly normal place to hang. I told her since we couldn't find Christmas sweaters, then second best would be a really vibrant sweater in Christmas colors, red or green or purple, if we got desperate. We jokingly looked at some gold lame. But I told her/reminded her gold lame and sparkly tops say, Holiday party, particularly holiday evening party, not Christmas party. We went our separate ways and I saw a lively green sweater and it was under her price limit. Unfortunately I saw it when one older woman was showing it to her friend and convinced her friend to at least put the sweater in her shopping cart. NO!!!!
I checked the racks to see if I could find another sweater, like the women had. At one point, the friend looked like she was putting it back but her friend convinced to keep it. So it mocked me, laying on top of her other items like, "Ha! Ha! She might not buy me, but maybe she will and you'll never know." Evil green sweater! Then I decided to discretely recheck the racks aka follow the women hoping they would put the sweater back for just a second so I could jump on it, but no such luck.
In my search, I did find some red sweaters that were acceptable. And funny after I gave up on the green sweater and showed Ann what I found, my favorite pick being a red turtleneck type sweater, we discovered she had picked out the exact same sweater. SCORE! She also picked up a "Christmas" shirt. It was rust colored and I think had leaves on it. Uh, dudes, the reason your "Christmas" shirt is at Ross is because throwing Santa on a shirt doesn't make it Christmasy. And Santa can't be seen on a dull colored shirt. And Santa isn't a fall dude. He doesn't need to be on shirts with leaves. He's busy working during Halloween and Thanksgiving time. He needs to be surrounded by snowflakes because he's a WINTER MAN! As you can tell, I wasn't a fan of the shirt.
Once Ann made a decision I decided to hop in line since Ross is so slow. I saw a short line and ran to get in it, but the Loss Protection guy said, the line was closed but to get in line in the front. He said, the line was moving quickly. I sighed with disappointment at that statement, who did he think he was talking to a Ross newbie? I walked to the front of the store knowing we'd be spending an extra hour of our lunch in the line.
I stood in line and Ann walked up to find me behind 10 other people and went to do some more shopping. I was in it for the long haul. But to my shock and surprise, the line started moving and moving and moving. Oh my goodness, the dude was right. The line moved so quickly I let another person go in front of me because Ann was still gone.
When we got to the counter, she asked the sales clerk about the change. And the woman admitted, they started adding extra registers and cashiers a la a real store. As we walked out the store, we were amazed that it finally occurred to the executives at Ross that in order to make money you shouldn't drive away customers who get frustrated by standing for hours on end in slow moving lines. I am now a fan of Ross! Now if they could only do something about their stores' organization style.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Snowflakes in the air
Grace, my BFF of many years, once told me when she was writing something or doing something online, she would say hopefully it will be finished in x amount of time or x amount of days. She said that way she had a goal in mind, but if she didn't quite make it she was safe because she didn't promise or say for sure it would be done by a certain date or time. I should put that as my sub-heading for this blog. The Terrific Trio, a blog hopefully updated daily.
The last hour I've been up wrapping gifts, getting ready to ship gifts to my peeps who don't have the privilege of living in the greatest city in the world. When I first got up I thought it was 2:25AM, until I looked at my computer and saw that it was 4AM. I realized my clock is set on the alarm clock setting from Black Friday. Someone said to me, how do you get up at 2:25AM to go shopping? I said, you do it because it's once a year. If it was once a month, it would lose it's appeal, but for one day after you give thanks with your family for being citizens of the greatest country in the world, you can wake up at 2AM and catch the best deals of the year. :)
And what were the best Black Friday deals I got.... I think the matching pjs I found for the kids at Target was a score. I hadn't expected it, but I found them while Whit was standing in line waiting to run out the door. God shined His face upon me and gave me matching Christmas pjs in everyone's size and they all fit. Okay, the baby's pants are a little long but that's okay. I have to say the terrific trio looks absolutely adorable in them.
My other great find was Mona's present. I pulled her name in the family and as I was walking through Macy's with Whit not intending to buy anything, I stopped in this one section. (Side note: When I asked what she wanted for Christmas, she kept saying this one thing. To which I replied, are you smoking reefer? I'm not getting that for you for Christmas.) So imagine my surprise, when I found what she asked for on sale. And I had ripped out the Macy's coupon from the paper, for no other reason, than to give it to Whit if she didn't have hers or needed an extra one. So now there was Mona's asked for gift on sale and now a little more could be taken off because of the coupon. God rocks! He showed me. I guess my big sister wasn't smoking reefer.
It would be awesome if she jumped for joy when she opens her gift or shower me with hugs and kisses, but that's more my style than hers. But I know inside, she will be totally jumping for joy.
Jory's camera was also a SCORE! I had bought him one the day Toys started their Christmas sale. I didn't want them to run out. I was proud of the deal I got, until I saw it was on sale on Black Friday for even less. SCORE!!!! So now the first one I bought goes back and I've said extra money. Black Friday sales rock!
And continuing on the worst Black Friday experience ever...after being in Kohl's for two to two-and-a-half hours to buy my mom this gift she talked about for months. (You know my mom the hardest person in the world to shop for.) On the very next day, my mom went shopping with her sisters and came home with the same item I spent over two hours in line to get for her. REALLY?!?!?! Are you kidding me?!?! It's official after I return what I bought from Kohl's, my feet are not stepping foot in that little evil place again!!! You know what's wrong with that store? It's too close to the Hellmouth. That is totally it. Why didn't I see that? Suspect that? Mel, Whit, you're dropping the ball. You should have reminded me of that fact.
One last Black Friday, so TTT (the terrific trio) are wearing their Black Friday pjs and last night while the girls were waiting for a Christmas movie and instead got to watch Fox's botched, short on time, embarrassment of a Country Awards show, Layla sank down into the sofa and laid her head in her sister's lap. Be still my beating heart. Periodically as she slept, Rowan would run her fingers through her sister's hair or caress her head. I'm in love. This is why you have Irish twins, particularly ones dressed exactly alike. I'm keeping the memory, the moment, in my mind. When the baby is screaming (she's got a loud voice) and Rowan is crying about who gets to open the door or who gets to walk the steps first, I'll recall this beautiful, caring, sisterly, Christmas moment.
Christmas rocks! Not so sure about Mariah's new Christmas album, but I've only listened to it twice so we'll see after more listenings....
The last hour I've been up wrapping gifts, getting ready to ship gifts to my peeps who don't have the privilege of living in the greatest city in the world. When I first got up I thought it was 2:25AM, until I looked at my computer and saw that it was 4AM. I realized my clock is set on the alarm clock setting from Black Friday. Someone said to me, how do you get up at 2:25AM to go shopping? I said, you do it because it's once a year. If it was once a month, it would lose it's appeal, but for one day after you give thanks with your family for being citizens of the greatest country in the world, you can wake up at 2AM and catch the best deals of the year. :)
And what were the best Black Friday deals I got.... I think the matching pjs I found for the kids at Target was a score. I hadn't expected it, but I found them while Whit was standing in line waiting to run out the door. God shined His face upon me and gave me matching Christmas pjs in everyone's size and they all fit. Okay, the baby's pants are a little long but that's okay. I have to say the terrific trio looks absolutely adorable in them.
My other great find was Mona's present. I pulled her name in the family and as I was walking through Macy's with Whit not intending to buy anything, I stopped in this one section. (Side note: When I asked what she wanted for Christmas, she kept saying this one thing. To which I replied, are you smoking reefer? I'm not getting that for you for Christmas.) So imagine my surprise, when I found what she asked for on sale. And I had ripped out the Macy's coupon from the paper, for no other reason, than to give it to Whit if she didn't have hers or needed an extra one. So now there was Mona's asked for gift on sale and now a little more could be taken off because of the coupon. God rocks! He showed me. I guess my big sister wasn't smoking reefer.
It would be awesome if she jumped for joy when she opens her gift or shower me with hugs and kisses, but that's more my style than hers. But I know inside, she will be totally jumping for joy.
Jory's camera was also a SCORE! I had bought him one the day Toys started their Christmas sale. I didn't want them to run out. I was proud of the deal I got, until I saw it was on sale on Black Friday for even less. SCORE!!!! So now the first one I bought goes back and I've said extra money. Black Friday sales rock!
And continuing on the worst Black Friday experience ever...after being in Kohl's for two to two-and-a-half hours to buy my mom this gift she talked about for months. (You know my mom the hardest person in the world to shop for.) On the very next day, my mom went shopping with her sisters and came home with the same item I spent over two hours in line to get for her. REALLY?!?!?! Are you kidding me?!?! It's official after I return what I bought from Kohl's, my feet are not stepping foot in that little evil place again!!! You know what's wrong with that store? It's too close to the Hellmouth. That is totally it. Why didn't I see that? Suspect that? Mel, Whit, you're dropping the ball. You should have reminded me of that fact.
One last Black Friday, so TTT (the terrific trio) are wearing their Black Friday pjs and last night while the girls were waiting for a Christmas movie and instead got to watch Fox's botched, short on time, embarrassment of a Country Awards show, Layla sank down into the sofa and laid her head in her sister's lap. Be still my beating heart. Periodically as she slept, Rowan would run her fingers through her sister's hair or caress her head. I'm in love. This is why you have Irish twins, particularly ones dressed exactly alike. I'm keeping the memory, the moment, in my mind. When the baby is screaming (she's got a loud voice) and Rowan is crying about who gets to open the door or who gets to walk the steps first, I'll recall this beautiful, caring, sisterly, Christmas moment.
Christmas rocks! Not so sure about Mariah's new Christmas album, but I've only listened to it twice so we'll see after more listenings....
Monday, December 6, 2010
You better watch out
Beautiful Savior, Wonderful Counselor
Clothed in majesty, Lord of history
You're the way, the truth, the life
Star of the morning, glorious in holiness
You're the risen One, Heaven's champion
And You reign, you reign, over all!
A few Sundays ago, this song was sang during worship time and oh how I love it. We sang it and tears streamed down my face that the baby boy in my arms wiped away and asked me if I was okay. I love that kid. I assured him I was and I wanted to express to him how truly blessed we are.
Blessed that we have a Savior who rules over all, who loves us more than we love ourselves, who gives us what we need not what we think we want. Blessed that God opened our ears and our hearts to let Him in.
Blessed that the Lord of history has allowed us to be a part of a family who believes this chorus to be true. How blessed Jory is that he has a mommy who understands and believes we serve the Star of the morning. That I was reared by a mother who knew/knows the risen One. That Oma was reared by my awesome Grandma who loved until the day she met Him face to face, Heaven's Champion. That Jory's great Grandma was a PK and grew up knowing, hearing, and learning about the Wonderful Counselor.
As I held this five-year-old boy in my arms, you know so he could see the screen and "read" it, who accepted Christ earlier this year, all I could do is cry and say, "Thank you." Thank Him for giving me the gift of life, for sending His son to die for my sins, for blessing me with the little boy in my arms who PRAISE GOD eased me into motherhood and who is sadly getting a bit too heavy for me to hold for long stretches of time.
One day I pray TTT (the terrific trio) will sing this song and cry or lift up their hands truly understanding what this song means, how true it is, and what a beautiful Savior they have!
Clothed in majesty, Lord of history
You're the way, the truth, the life
Star of the morning, glorious in holiness
You're the risen One, Heaven's champion
And You reign, you reign, over all!
A few Sundays ago, this song was sang during worship time and oh how I love it. We sang it and tears streamed down my face that the baby boy in my arms wiped away and asked me if I was okay. I love that kid. I assured him I was and I wanted to express to him how truly blessed we are.
Blessed that we have a Savior who rules over all, who loves us more than we love ourselves, who gives us what we need not what we think we want. Blessed that God opened our ears and our hearts to let Him in.
Blessed that the Lord of history has allowed us to be a part of a family who believes this chorus to be true. How blessed Jory is that he has a mommy who understands and believes we serve the Star of the morning. That I was reared by a mother who knew/knows the risen One. That Oma was reared by my awesome Grandma who loved until the day she met Him face to face, Heaven's Champion. That Jory's great Grandma was a PK and grew up knowing, hearing, and learning about the Wonderful Counselor.
As I held this five-year-old boy in my arms, you know so he could see the screen and "read" it, who accepted Christ earlier this year, all I could do is cry and say, "Thank you." Thank Him for giving me the gift of life, for sending His son to die for my sins, for blessing me with the little boy in my arms who PRAISE GOD eased me into motherhood and who is sadly getting a bit too heavy for me to hold for long stretches of time.
One day I pray TTT (the terrific trio) will sing this song and cry or lift up their hands truly understanding what this song means, how true it is, and what a beautiful Savior they have!
I really can't stay
The learning curve of parenting is an interesting one.
On Friday mornings before we walk out the door, Jory and Rowan must have their AWANA books and vests in hand. This Friday morning, no one could find anything. The Sparks vest Jory was playing with all week suddenly couldn't be found. He had no idea where his book or bag was. Rowan was walking around aimlessly so a search began. Time was ticking away and my frustration was rising. How many times do I say, "Put your AWANA stuff up."? How many times do I remind them to leave their books and vests on the stereo until they are needed the following week? UGH!
They roam around the house "searching" and Oma, now home for her very, very very long but well-deserved six week vacation, feeling the need to assist the "search" joins in. How are they ever going to learn to look for things or rather you know look under something to find what you're looking for, if she joins in? It's amazing how many things are found under other things. But I guess either Oma was getting frustrated from watching the "search" or felt they were too young to be looking for things, so she decided to help out which adds a whole new level of drama.
Yes, I know Jory's vest is on the table in the kitchen, Oma, but he just told me he looked in the kitchen for his vest so I'm keeping my mouth shut. On and on, they continued to "look" and my frustration level was out of control. Why can't they just listen and obey? Things would be so much easier if they did. Hmm, that sounds vaguely familiar.
I issued my ultimatum, if all the AWANA items weren't found by the time we walked out the door then no one was going to AWANA.
With Oma's help Jory found his stuff, but all Rowan found was Jory's old Cubbie book (so unfair they change those books every year). We got into the car and my announcement of no AWANA wasn't met with joy and cheer. But I had had it. Then I thought as I drove to work, I still have to drive to AWANA tonight to take Vandy. It wouldn't be fair to him to not be able to go just because his little cousins weren't following directions.
As the day continued, I wrestled with my decision. Did the punishment fit the crime? I talked to a fellow mother, who had BTDT, and she thought I might have been a little hasty with my punishment for a first time offense. It was like she was reading my mind. No wonder we're friends. So then the thoughts began, how do I go back on a consequence I had issued.
I picked the kids up and told them they could go to AWANA this time, but if they didn't put their AWANA things up properly after AWANA, the next time they wouldn't be allowed to go. Though from the reaction, I got the sense they had either forgotten what I said about going to AWANA or they had hoped I had forgot what I said.
So the lessons learned here:
1. Kids have short term memories or hope their parents do.
2. That sometimes cooler heads need to prevail before consequences are issued.
3. Wise friends who have older children rock!
4. Life would be so much easier, better, if we simply trust and obeyed...for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus than to trust and obey.
On Friday mornings before we walk out the door, Jory and Rowan must have their AWANA books and vests in hand. This Friday morning, no one could find anything. The Sparks vest Jory was playing with all week suddenly couldn't be found. He had no idea where his book or bag was. Rowan was walking around aimlessly so a search began. Time was ticking away and my frustration was rising. How many times do I say, "Put your AWANA stuff up."? How many times do I remind them to leave their books and vests on the stereo until they are needed the following week? UGH!
They roam around the house "searching" and Oma, now home for her very, very very long but well-deserved six week vacation, feeling the need to assist the "search" joins in. How are they ever going to learn to look for things or rather you know look under something to find what you're looking for, if she joins in? It's amazing how many things are found under other things. But I guess either Oma was getting frustrated from watching the "search" or felt they were too young to be looking for things, so she decided to help out which adds a whole new level of drama.
Yes, I know Jory's vest is on the table in the kitchen, Oma, but he just told me he looked in the kitchen for his vest so I'm keeping my mouth shut. On and on, they continued to "look" and my frustration level was out of control. Why can't they just listen and obey? Things would be so much easier if they did. Hmm, that sounds vaguely familiar.
I issued my ultimatum, if all the AWANA items weren't found by the time we walked out the door then no one was going to AWANA.
With Oma's help Jory found his stuff, but all Rowan found was Jory's old Cubbie book (so unfair they change those books every year). We got into the car and my announcement of no AWANA wasn't met with joy and cheer. But I had had it. Then I thought as I drove to work, I still have to drive to AWANA tonight to take Vandy. It wouldn't be fair to him to not be able to go just because his little cousins weren't following directions.
As the day continued, I wrestled with my decision. Did the punishment fit the crime? I talked to a fellow mother, who had BTDT, and she thought I might have been a little hasty with my punishment for a first time offense. It was like she was reading my mind. No wonder we're friends. So then the thoughts began, how do I go back on a consequence I had issued.
I picked the kids up and told them they could go to AWANA this time, but if they didn't put their AWANA things up properly after AWANA, the next time they wouldn't be allowed to go. Though from the reaction, I got the sense they had either forgotten what I said about going to AWANA or they had hoped I had forgot what I said.
So the lessons learned here:
1. Kids have short term memories or hope their parents do.
2. That sometimes cooler heads need to prevail before consequences are issued.
3. Wise friends who have older children rock!
4. Life would be so much easier, better, if we simply trust and obeyed...for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus than to trust and obey.
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