Two Christmases ago, I decided I had so much love for my kids that I would- - no, not die on the cross for them, but take them to Disneyland on my birthday. I hate Disneyland. I wasn't raised being a Disney kid. I didn't morph into one as an adult. I think you're either a Disney kid or a Magic Mountain one. I was definitely a Magic Mountain one.
As we waited to go on the Sleeping Beauty Ride, Jory shouted out, "You stop that, Skeletor!"
I frowned. What was he talking about? Maleficent was talking. Didn't he know that? I realized why would he know that?
We were a Scooby Doo, He-Man, Jem and the Holograms, Veggie Tales sort of family. The only consistent bad guy was He-Man's nemesis, Skeletor. I felt bad. I let my dislike of all things Disney turn my baby into some social misfit. How do you not at least know the names of the bad guys in the Disney movies? Or the characters in the movies? You don't know because your mother never let you watch them. Well, that's not entirely true, the baby and I did watch like Sleeping Beauty II in Hanoi.
I vowed my kids wouldn't be mocked when they got older. Though it did make it nice going through Disney because they didn't care about seeing any of the characters. It helps the only characters they knew were Mickey, Minnie, Goofy, and Donald from Mickey's Clubhouse.
So after the holidays, I went to Goodwill and eureka there they were, prove God didn't want His children to be outcasts either. A mom had cleared her entertainment center of all Disney movies. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Jungle Book, The Little Mermaid, Pocohantas, Aladdin were sitting on the shelf. I picked them all up. My kids didn't have to fall in love with Disney, but they were going to know their Disney character. Then every Friday after I dropped the kids off at AWANA, the baby and I would stop by Goodwill and see if they had any movies we were missing and they did. So now we have a respectable Disney collection and the Disney knowledge is sinking in.
When the baby is modeling a dress, she twirls around and says, "Cinderella!" Yep, it's sinking in, but Signing Times beats a Disney movie any time so SCORE one for me. To quote Miley, "It's the best of both worlds."
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Bad sleepers
This morning while I was enjoying the wonderful Detroit 1-8-7, I looked over and Rowan scooted over, rolled over, and ended up on top of the baby. At first I was going to move her, then I thought nah, Layla will realize there's an extra 31 pounds on top of her. The baby somehow didn't notice so I let Rowan stay though it did dawn on me to take a picture, but I was too warm and comfy. Finally something clicked with the baby and the next thing I hear...
"Get off me! Get off of me" the baby cried as she tried to rock her big sister off of her. Layla raised her arms and her little hands balled into fists as she rocked.
Rowan got off of her and kept sleeping like nothing happened.
I thought the baby was going to be up, but she kept on sleeping without the extra weight and I went back to wondering why, why, why more people didn't watch the amazing Detroit 1-8-7.
"Get off me! Get off of me" the baby cried as she tried to rock her big sister off of her. Layla raised her arms and her little hands balled into fists as she rocked.
Rowan got off of her and kept sleeping like nothing happened.
I thought the baby was going to be up, but she kept on sleeping without the extra weight and I went back to wondering why, why, why more people didn't watch the amazing Detroit 1-8-7.
DC Talk
Maybe one of the best recent parenting decisions I made was to teach my kids a kid friendly version of DC Talk's "In the Light." To hear the baby sing, "I want to be in the light." To hear Jory sing, "I am the king of excuses." To hear Rowan sing, "I want to shine like the stars in the heavens." It warms my heart. We've talked about what the song means. I hope this song sticks with them and is one of those songs that will come back to them when they are not even thinking about years from now.
I did hear Jory teach Vandy the song. And a few days later, Vandy referenced the song in regards to his own behavior. SCORE! God using Jory's teaching to help convict my baby boy's older cousin was awesome.
I wonder what DC Talk song we need to learn next. They are the greatest group in the world so it's only fitting the greatest kids in the world should learn their songs. To hear my babies sing my favorite group's songs, be still my beating heart.
I did hear Jory teach Vandy the song. And a few days later, Vandy referenced the song in regards to his own behavior. SCORE! God using Jory's teaching to help convict my baby boy's older cousin was awesome.
I wonder what DC Talk song we need to learn next. They are the greatest group in the world so it's only fitting the greatest kids in the world should learn their songs. To hear my babies sing my favorite group's songs, be still my beating heart.
The past comes back
When Jory was but a tot we were at a Mexican restaurant waiting for my burrito and I picked him up and sang, "You can do it, put you back in to it/You can do it put your back into it." At first nothing registered, then it clicked. I was singing Ice Cube to my son. I was singing an Ice Cube son to my baby. Crazy!
I like to sing. I like to throw out song lyrics in the middle of conversations. My musical taste are all over. I was a top 40, CCM, love songs on the KOST type girl. Shane was a hip hop guy, he introduced me to the Death Row family beyond Dr. Dre, Snoop, and Tupac. I fell in love with some Broadway musicals and now I'm into country. It makes me wonder what my babies will be singing to their babies.
"Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory!" the baby sang to wake up her brother and sister. "Wake up, wake up, it's the first of the morn!" she continued singing.
I froze. Did my baby just go from singing "Rise and Shine" to singing Bones-Thugs-n-Harmony? Yep, she did. She sang it just like her mommy sings it on certain mornings.
Maybe I should play exclusively DC Talk so I know my grandkids will hear good things. Though hearing Rowan singing along to Jesus Christ Superstar was kinda cute.
I like to sing. I like to throw out song lyrics in the middle of conversations. My musical taste are all over. I was a top 40, CCM, love songs on the KOST type girl. Shane was a hip hop guy, he introduced me to the Death Row family beyond Dr. Dre, Snoop, and Tupac. I fell in love with some Broadway musicals and now I'm into country. It makes me wonder what my babies will be singing to their babies.
"Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory!" the baby sang to wake up her brother and sister. "Wake up, wake up, it's the first of the morn!" she continued singing.
I froze. Did my baby just go from singing "Rise and Shine" to singing Bones-Thugs-n-Harmony? Yep, she did. She sang it just like her mommy sings it on certain mornings.
Maybe I should play exclusively DC Talk so I know my grandkids will hear good things. Though hearing Rowan singing along to Jesus Christ Superstar was kinda cute.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Confused
Recently I've been having a crash course in the world of teens. An extra shout out and prayer for those of you rearing teens and mentoring teens.
Two-and-a-half hours to get a book, on a third grade reading level, read. Three hours to get four plates, one bowl, four forks, one spoon, and a glass washed.
I want to bang my head against the wall though I have been blessed and have been able to keep a sense of humor, particularly when the emotional blackmail begins.
"Why do you hate me?"
"If you hate me,then one day you're going to hate the kids."
"God doesn't want you to hate children."
"This is child abuse."
I had to stop myself from laughing in his face. But those lines I'm going to remember until I die. They are just classic. Particularly when they were all said in relation to the torture of having to read for an hour a third grade watered down version of "Jane Eyre" complete with pictures.
He apologized after the two-and-a-half hours, which I accepted, but a week later it began again. This time over washing dishes. This three hour temper tantrum, like the first time included flicking the light switch off and on, dropping books on the floor, going to the bathroom a gazillion times, having a comment under his breath for everything you say, constantly questioning why he was being "tortured."
But this time, TTT saw part of it played out in front of them. Their tiny ears were wide open. They recognized he wasn't obeying or listening. They know the consequences when they don't listen and obey, so I know they were waiting to see the same thing happen to him. And there's the confusion - - I want to help, want to be a good influence, help point him to the Truth, but at what cost? Do I let TTT see someone disrespect me, disobey me, and be defiant? Someone who I have less authority over than I do them? Can their minds understand why he doesn't get punished like them because he's older, becaue he doesn't call me mom?
We did discuss his behavior and how and why it wasn't right and they seem to understand that. I wonder now how to we move forward. I've discovered the disrespect and disobedience only rears its head when he's asked to do things ie reading, homework, that he doesn't want to do. The rest of the time he is complaint, obedient. But I can't forget what lurks underneath. I can't forget we are just one request away from the ugliness, from him trying to stop himself from cursing at me.
I don't want to give up on him. I don't want to be another person in his life that decides his attitude is too much to handle, but I've got three growing babies to think about. Three babies who are always watching, always listening, always putting the pieces of the puzzle together.
Two-and-a-half hours to get a book, on a third grade reading level, read. Three hours to get four plates, one bowl, four forks, one spoon, and a glass washed.
I want to bang my head against the wall though I have been blessed and have been able to keep a sense of humor, particularly when the emotional blackmail begins.
"Why do you hate me?"
"If you hate me,then one day you're going to hate the kids."
"God doesn't want you to hate children."
"This is child abuse."
I had to stop myself from laughing in his face. But those lines I'm going to remember until I die. They are just classic. Particularly when they were all said in relation to the torture of having to read for an hour a third grade watered down version of "Jane Eyre" complete with pictures.
He apologized after the two-and-a-half hours, which I accepted, but a week later it began again. This time over washing dishes. This three hour temper tantrum, like the first time included flicking the light switch off and on, dropping books on the floor, going to the bathroom a gazillion times, having a comment under his breath for everything you say, constantly questioning why he was being "tortured."
But this time, TTT saw part of it played out in front of them. Their tiny ears were wide open. They recognized he wasn't obeying or listening. They know the consequences when they don't listen and obey, so I know they were waiting to see the same thing happen to him. And there's the confusion - - I want to help, want to be a good influence, help point him to the Truth, but at what cost? Do I let TTT see someone disrespect me, disobey me, and be defiant? Someone who I have less authority over than I do them? Can their minds understand why he doesn't get punished like them because he's older, becaue he doesn't call me mom?
We did discuss his behavior and how and why it wasn't right and they seem to understand that. I wonder now how to we move forward. I've discovered the disrespect and disobedience only rears its head when he's asked to do things ie reading, homework, that he doesn't want to do. The rest of the time he is complaint, obedient. But I can't forget what lurks underneath. I can't forget we are just one request away from the ugliness, from him trying to stop himself from cursing at me.
I don't want to give up on him. I don't want to be another person in his life that decides his attitude is too much to handle, but I've got three growing babies to think about. Three babies who are always watching, always listening, always putting the pieces of the puzzle together.
Memories
As TTT gets older it's amazing what they remember. Sometimes things I never thought they would remember. Some things I need more details to remember, which Jory ususally has.
On Friday night at bedtime, Rowan said, "Mommy, my arm still hurts."
She received shots at a doctor's visit earlier in the morning.
"I'm sorry, Rowan, but when you wake up it won't hurt anymore," I assured her.
"Mommy, my arm hurts too," Jory inserted lifting his arm towards me.
"Jory, when did you get your shots?"
"In Decemeber," he answered confidentally.
"Then your arm is no longer hurting from a shot you had three months ago."
Maybe he should remember getting his shots since I almost asked for the nurse to call in another nurse or male doctor to help hold down that incredibly adrenaline pumped boy when he got his shot and blood was drawn.
*************************************************************************************
"Mommy, remember when you left me?"
"Jory, when did I leave you?"
"Remember when I woke up and you weren't in the room with me and I looked in all the rooms and you weren't there. And I went outside and you weren't there. Then I came outside and opened the gate and I saw you and I was crying. Then you took to me to McDonald's. Why did you leave me?" he asked.
"You were asleep when I went outside. I didn't think you were going to wake up before I came back inside."
What is this kid an elephant?
*************************************************************************************
"Mommy, remember when we went to the park and we couldn't get on the jumpers?"
"No, Jory, I don't remember that."
"Remember the jumpers and the swimming pool?"
What is this kid talking about? "No."
"Remember we got our face painted. I was a doggie and Rowan was a kitty cat and the baby had flowers and sparkles on the side of her face. Remember?"
"You mean Caleb's birthday party?"
Jory nodded.
Score one for Rebecca and Chris for having the genius idea to hire a face painter. Caleb's first birthday is forever engraved in Jory's memory.
Oh, the things kids remember.
On Friday night at bedtime, Rowan said, "Mommy, my arm still hurts."
She received shots at a doctor's visit earlier in the morning.
"I'm sorry, Rowan, but when you wake up it won't hurt anymore," I assured her.
"Mommy, my arm hurts too," Jory inserted lifting his arm towards me.
"Jory, when did you get your shots?"
"In Decemeber," he answered confidentally.
"Then your arm is no longer hurting from a shot you had three months ago."
Maybe he should remember getting his shots since I almost asked for the nurse to call in another nurse or male doctor to help hold down that incredibly adrenaline pumped boy when he got his shot and blood was drawn.
*************************************************************************************
"Mommy, remember when you left me?"
"Jory, when did I leave you?"
"Remember when I woke up and you weren't in the room with me and I looked in all the rooms and you weren't there. And I went outside and you weren't there. Then I came outside and opened the gate and I saw you and I was crying. Then you took to me to McDonald's. Why did you leave me?" he asked.
"You were asleep when I went outside. I didn't think you were going to wake up before I came back inside."
What is this kid an elephant?
*************************************************************************************
"Mommy, remember when we went to the park and we couldn't get on the jumpers?"
"No, Jory, I don't remember that."
"Remember the jumpers and the swimming pool?"
What is this kid talking about? "No."
"Remember we got our face painted. I was a doggie and Rowan was a kitty cat and the baby had flowers and sparkles on the side of her face. Remember?"
"You mean Caleb's birthday party?"
Jory nodded.
Score one for Rebecca and Chris for having the genius idea to hire a face painter. Caleb's first birthday is forever engraved in Jory's memory.
Oh, the things kids remember.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Doctor Visits
Why?!? Why?!?! Why?!?! Why must they take so long? I'm sorry the visits are like five minutes long, so the real question is why must the wait be so long? And for young children? Do these doctors not realize they are treating children? Do they not know children get bored waiting for long periods of time when they can't run around, can't walk around, have no toys to play with, and have to sit in not so comfortable chairs watching the CNN health channel on loop?
Maybe once a month, each doctor should take a turn waiting with a three-year-old or a five-month-old or a just learning and wanting to walk one-year-old and see how much fun it is. Or better yet wait with two or three kids of multiple ages.
A nine o' clock appointment, didn't see the doctor until like ten forty-five by ten fifty-five the doctor was gone and it was on to shots, blood drawing, hearing and vision tests, and urine samples. Why are my six and four-year-olds giving urine samples? They are just tiny babies. Urine samples are for big people, not little babies.
Nine o' clock appointment and I don't get to work until noon. There is something wacky with this doctor system.
Maybe once a month, each doctor should take a turn waiting with a three-year-old or a five-month-old or a just learning and wanting to walk one-year-old and see how much fun it is. Or better yet wait with two or three kids of multiple ages.
A nine o' clock appointment, didn't see the doctor until like ten forty-five by ten fifty-five the doctor was gone and it was on to shots, blood drawing, hearing and vision tests, and urine samples. Why are my six and four-year-olds giving urine samples? They are just tiny babies. Urine samples are for big people, not little babies.
Nine o' clock appointment and I don't get to work until noon. There is something wacky with this doctor system.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Happy Birthday, Mijo!!!
Twelve years ago today, I was working at Smart Inventions Inc, a company that sold products like the Smart Mop, Smart Nails, and the Smart Chopper via mail order and infomercials. As I busied myself taking orders for items that are marked up a minimum of 400%, I got a call saying Mona was in labor and at the hospital. Our baby was coming! Our baby was coming!
A few hours later, the second call came with all the details. Labor had been progressing nicely, but as the baby was getting ready to come down the canal he thought he'd stop and take a poop. Yep, when you gotta go, you gotta go, which of course led to an emergency c-section. The baby was named after his dad with whom he now shared a birthday with.
I remember calling Mona and she was so drugged out that she said, "I love you" at the end of the conversation which is something she never says to me. It's our running joke. So for her to say it, I can attest to those drugs being very powerful.
Seven weeks later, I got to hold my precious baby that I had christened Mijo in my arms. He looked like he did in his ultra-sound picture, minus the thumb sucking. He was tiny and cute and the most beautiful thing in the world. He stole my heart with those brown eyes of his.
He taught me so much- - how to be selfless, how first grandchildren/nephews clean up, how to shop first in the children's department then the toy department and if there's any money left then go to the department you really needed to go to. He taught me how to love a newborn with all your heart.
My heart still pitter patters when I think of the first time he said, "I love you, Auntie Yash," independently. I did then and still do look forward to the Christmases and summers when I can leave work and drive to his granny's house, talk to him, spend time with him, and eat dinner with him.
For a while there we hit a rough patch, when he decided he couldn't say "I love you" back when we talked on the phone. But I kept at it, until it returned.
I love this boy who is slowly leaving his boyhood behind. I remember when a toy magazine was my oyster to pick out any pearls aka toys that I wanted and he would love them. Now my Christmas lists consists mostly of video games and books related to video games.
Was it really only three months ago that he picked me up? My Mijo picked me up. Granted, it was only for a few seconds, but still. What happened to the baby I use to toss in the air and catch? Sometimes time moves too swiftly, but I do look forward to the man he will become. I utterly adore my Mijo.
Happy Twelfth Birthday to my Mijito! My Mijo! I love you! I pray you have the best birthday yet.
A few hours later, the second call came with all the details. Labor had been progressing nicely, but as the baby was getting ready to come down the canal he thought he'd stop and take a poop. Yep, when you gotta go, you gotta go, which of course led to an emergency c-section. The baby was named after his dad with whom he now shared a birthday with.
I remember calling Mona and she was so drugged out that she said, "I love you" at the end of the conversation which is something she never says to me. It's our running joke. So for her to say it, I can attest to those drugs being very powerful.
Seven weeks later, I got to hold my precious baby that I had christened Mijo in my arms. He looked like he did in his ultra-sound picture, minus the thumb sucking. He was tiny and cute and the most beautiful thing in the world. He stole my heart with those brown eyes of his.
He taught me so much- - how to be selfless, how first grandchildren/nephews clean up, how to shop first in the children's department then the toy department and if there's any money left then go to the department you really needed to go to. He taught me how to love a newborn with all your heart.
My heart still pitter patters when I think of the first time he said, "I love you, Auntie Yash," independently. I did then and still do look forward to the Christmases and summers when I can leave work and drive to his granny's house, talk to him, spend time with him, and eat dinner with him.
For a while there we hit a rough patch, when he decided he couldn't say "I love you" back when we talked on the phone. But I kept at it, until it returned.
I love this boy who is slowly leaving his boyhood behind. I remember when a toy magazine was my oyster to pick out any pearls aka toys that I wanted and he would love them. Now my Christmas lists consists mostly of video games and books related to video games.
Was it really only three months ago that he picked me up? My Mijo picked me up. Granted, it was only for a few seconds, but still. What happened to the baby I use to toss in the air and catch? Sometimes time moves too swiftly, but I do look forward to the man he will become. I utterly adore my Mijo.
Happy Twelfth Birthday to my Mijito! My Mijo! I love you! I pray you have the best birthday yet.
Thinking Thoughts
What was that I smelt? It smelt like something was burning. No, no, it was burnt popcorn. But we didn't have any popcorn so how could we burn some? I walked into the dining room and my mom said, "Jory burnt the popcorn. He put it on for too long."
Jory was sitting next to Oma, as she spoke. I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen.
"Didn't you ask Mommy if you could have some popcorn?" I asked.
"Yes," he responded softly.
"What did I say?"
"You said, 'No.'"
"So who told you to make the popcorn?"
"Myself."
AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Not only is my son giving himself permission to make his own popcorn, use the microwave unaided, but he also inherited his Oma's gift of overcooking/burning things in the microwave by cooking things for too long.
And exactly who is he to give himself permission to do anything? This whole thinking thoughts thing is for the dogs.
********************************************************************************************
"Rowan, why did you bite your classmate?"
"Because she pushed me."
"Is it okay to bite people?"
"No."
"Should we hurt people just because they hurt us?"
"No."
"So why did you bite Sierra? Would you like it if I bit you?"
"No. Sierra pushed me."
"Why didn't you tell Mrs. Wilson? Isn't that what we're suppose to do if someone hurts you or says mean things to you?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"So why didn't you tell Mrs. Wilson instead of biting Sierra?"
Silence.
Can I bang my head against a wall? Independent thinking is for the dogs.
********************************************************************************************
"Baby, why are you eating the toothpaste?"
"Because."
"Because? Because what?"
"Because."
"Are you suppose to eat toothpaste?"
"No."
"Then why are you eating it?"
"Because."
"Who told you to even get the toothpaste out of the bathroom?"
"Nobody. Me."
Me? Really?! Me? You can't even brush your teeth by yourself, but you tell yourself it's okay to eat the toothpaste in hiding.
Why can't they learn to think thoughts when they are away at college? Or married even? Thinking thoughts is going to be the death of me.
Jory was sitting next to Oma, as she spoke. I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen.
"Didn't you ask Mommy if you could have some popcorn?" I asked.
"Yes," he responded softly.
"What did I say?"
"You said, 'No.'"
"So who told you to make the popcorn?"
"Myself."
AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Not only is my son giving himself permission to make his own popcorn, use the microwave unaided, but he also inherited his Oma's gift of overcooking/burning things in the microwave by cooking things for too long.
And exactly who is he to give himself permission to do anything? This whole thinking thoughts thing is for the dogs.
********************************************************************************************
"Rowan, why did you bite your classmate?"
"Because she pushed me."
"Is it okay to bite people?"
"No."
"Should we hurt people just because they hurt us?"
"No."
"So why did you bite Sierra? Would you like it if I bit you?"
"No. Sierra pushed me."
"Why didn't you tell Mrs. Wilson? Isn't that what we're suppose to do if someone hurts you or says mean things to you?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"So why didn't you tell Mrs. Wilson instead of biting Sierra?"
Silence.
Can I bang my head against a wall? Independent thinking is for the dogs.
********************************************************************************************
"Baby, why are you eating the toothpaste?"
"Because."
"Because? Because what?"
"Because."
"Are you suppose to eat toothpaste?"
"No."
"Then why are you eating it?"
"Because."
"Who told you to even get the toothpaste out of the bathroom?"
"Nobody. Me."
Me? Really?! Me? You can't even brush your teeth by yourself, but you tell yourself it's okay to eat the toothpaste in hiding.
Why can't they learn to think thoughts when they are away at college? Or married even? Thinking thoughts is going to be the death of me.
Dressing the baby
I was dressing Layla and we put on one pair of pants and they were up her leg. I put a second pair of pants on her and they were the same way. I looked inside the pants and there were size 18 months. Could my baby be growing out of her pants? Is she creeping closer to wearing toddler sizes? This can't be. She's my baby. My little, tiny baby.
I grabbed a pair of Children's Place jeans in size 18 months and they fit perfectly. Those other brands must run small. My baby has to stay my baby for as long as possible. She dresses herself kinda. But on some mornings, she's on it. She takes her own diaper off, gets her t-shirt, and underwear out and puts them on. I'm slightly saddened by this. Another sign that she's growing up, even if I still have to redress her because while she knows "the tag goes in the back" song and sings it, sometimes, a lot of the time, the tag still ends up in the front.
After we finish with the clothing, she moves on to her socks. She can put her own socks on, but that's where it stops. They could be on the wrong side or the line that tells you which way is up on the sock is on the bottom of her foot.
She puts her own shoes on though she seems to prefer to put her church shoes on. She doesn't realize that paten leather Mary Janes do not go with every outfit and they are no good for running and playing in. Seemingly she doesn't care.
She's fifty/fifty depending on the day with putting on her coat or sweater. Little by little she's getting better at dressing herself, one day I won't have to supervise her at all. :( The thought makes me sad, but it's life and she'll always be my baby and we'll always call her baby. My grandchildren will be calling her Aunt or Auntie Baby. Maybe she can be Tia Baby. I'll have to work on that one.
I grabbed a pair of Children's Place jeans in size 18 months and they fit perfectly. Those other brands must run small. My baby has to stay my baby for as long as possible. She dresses herself kinda. But on some mornings, she's on it. She takes her own diaper off, gets her t-shirt, and underwear out and puts them on. I'm slightly saddened by this. Another sign that she's growing up, even if I still have to redress her because while she knows "the tag goes in the back" song and sings it, sometimes, a lot of the time, the tag still ends up in the front.
After we finish with the clothing, she moves on to her socks. She can put her own socks on, but that's where it stops. They could be on the wrong side or the line that tells you which way is up on the sock is on the bottom of her foot.
She puts her own shoes on though she seems to prefer to put her church shoes on. She doesn't realize that paten leather Mary Janes do not go with every outfit and they are no good for running and playing in. Seemingly she doesn't care.
She's fifty/fifty depending on the day with putting on her coat or sweater. Little by little she's getting better at dressing herself, one day I won't have to supervise her at all. :( The thought makes me sad, but it's life and she'll always be my baby and we'll always call her baby. My grandchildren will be calling her Aunt or Auntie Baby. Maybe she can be Tia Baby. I'll have to work on that one.
There are those days
My friend, Sarah, asked me as we were walking, "How is motherhood?"
I answered, "A lesson in not murdering people." I was dead serious.
Why didn't anyone ever tell me? Why do other mothers hide the truth? Before you're a parent, moms spin the sunshine and the glory stories. They tell you the cute stories, show the adorable pictures. They don't tell you the nightmare stories.
They don't tell you that sometimes timeout is so you don't strangle your child. That you need to cool off and just not see that child for a while. And that sometimes you forget the child is even in timeout because they've sensed they've pushed you to the limit so it's in their best interest to just stay quiet and out of sight.
So an hour or so later, when they ask, "Mommy, can I go play now?"
You remember putting them in timeout and are ready to calmly talk to them about the behavior that drove you to the edge.
Some behaviors, words said, certain actions make you not see your beloved child, but instead see the "God, why didn't you just let us stay in slavery and die in Egypt" Israelite side of your child. I would read about the Israelites and I thought God why didn't you kill them? Selfish, self-absorbed people....Never really thought I'd be raising one or three, even when He made it clear that I was reading about myself.
It is truly amazing we make it to the age of eighteen. On a radio show, a man suggested to the parents having problems with their twelve-year-old boy to buy him a thirteenth birthday card and put a question mark after the number thirteen. I laughed as did the parents on the radio show because we got it. Some days, they act like they don't want to make it to eighteen.
God loves us. Once your child starts thinking thoughts and you start thinking, is it their goal in life to drive me crazy, it's then that you should hug and kiss your parents for letting you live to see eighteen. That you realize God is real and on His throne and loves us endlessly....That is by His grace we live, that if He removed His hand from us- - yikes can't even go there.
He loves us and chastises us because He loves us. So I must do the same because I love TTT just sometimes the chastising comes after the urge to strangle subsides.
"Were you hanging on to the ceiling fan?" I asked as I see the ceiling fan rocking back and forth.
"No," Jory and Rowan assured me as they shook their heads.
"Then why is the fan shaking? Were you jumping off the bed?"
Jory nodded. "We were jumping on your bed so high that we kept hitting the ceiling fan."
"Then we jumped off the bed," Rowan added.
Are you serious?!?! Are you serious?! Deep breaths. Deep breaths. One day, this story will be funny. Just not today or at this very moment.
Kids...
I answered, "A lesson in not murdering people." I was dead serious.
Why didn't anyone ever tell me? Why do other mothers hide the truth? Before you're a parent, moms spin the sunshine and the glory stories. They tell you the cute stories, show the adorable pictures. They don't tell you the nightmare stories.
They don't tell you that sometimes timeout is so you don't strangle your child. That you need to cool off and just not see that child for a while. And that sometimes you forget the child is even in timeout because they've sensed they've pushed you to the limit so it's in their best interest to just stay quiet and out of sight.
So an hour or so later, when they ask, "Mommy, can I go play now?"
You remember putting them in timeout and are ready to calmly talk to them about the behavior that drove you to the edge.
Some behaviors, words said, certain actions make you not see your beloved child, but instead see the "God, why didn't you just let us stay in slavery and die in Egypt" Israelite side of your child. I would read about the Israelites and I thought God why didn't you kill them? Selfish, self-absorbed people....Never really thought I'd be raising one or three, even when He made it clear that I was reading about myself.
It is truly amazing we make it to the age of eighteen. On a radio show, a man suggested to the parents having problems with their twelve-year-old boy to buy him a thirteenth birthday card and put a question mark after the number thirteen. I laughed as did the parents on the radio show because we got it. Some days, they act like they don't want to make it to eighteen.
God loves us. Once your child starts thinking thoughts and you start thinking, is it their goal in life to drive me crazy, it's then that you should hug and kiss your parents for letting you live to see eighteen. That you realize God is real and on His throne and loves us endlessly....That is by His grace we live, that if He removed His hand from us- - yikes can't even go there.
He loves us and chastises us because He loves us. So I must do the same because I love TTT just sometimes the chastising comes after the urge to strangle subsides.
"Were you hanging on to the ceiling fan?" I asked as I see the ceiling fan rocking back and forth.
"No," Jory and Rowan assured me as they shook their heads.
"Then why is the fan shaking? Were you jumping off the bed?"
Jory nodded. "We were jumping on your bed so high that we kept hitting the ceiling fan."
"Then we jumped off the bed," Rowan added.
Are you serious?!?! Are you serious?! Deep breaths. Deep breaths. One day, this story will be funny. Just not today or at this very moment.
Kids...
Homeschooling at Toys R Us
This year everyone got their three dollar gift card from Geoffery so off we went to Toys R Us to spend them. I figured the girls would be easy enough, but I wasn't quite sure what to expect from Jory.
I put the girls in the basket and as we walked down a main aisle, I saw Matchbox cars in the middle of the aisle. Yep, they are only ninety-nine cents.
"Jory, do you see any cars or trucks you like? You can get six of them," I informed my six-year-old son subtly reminding him that he can spend his years in life at Toys R Us.
He looked around the display for a moment. "No, I don't want a car."
Please God, don't let this be a trip like last time when I left after over an hour and a half in the store not sure where to strangle myself or Jory. "Do you know what you want?"
"A firetruck," he said casually as he turned onto another aisle.
"Jory, you cannot buy a firetruck for only six dollars, unless you buy a small one." I wasn't going to let him get to me. He wasn't going to drive me mad this time. I'd focus on the girls first.
We turned onto the dollar aisle. I let Layla look in three dollar section, she wasn't interested in the balls or the cars. I hoped she wouldn't be difficult. As she browsed, I explained to Rowan there was no four dollar section, so she could get something in the three dollar section and one thing from the dollar section. My middle daughter looked at all her options quickly and decided on the miniature doll who came with a wardrobe. Upon seeing her pick out the doll, the baby decided she wanted that too. SCORE! My girls rocked my world with their easiness. I encouraged Rowan to get some Princess crayons for a dollar and she was very agreeable to this. Girls rock!
With the girls finished shopping, we left the bargain aisle and headed for the boys' section. My eldest searched the aisle for a firetruck.
"Jory, you already have a firetruck at home. Do you really need another one?" I asked. I wasn't going to force him to buy something he didn't want. It was his six dollars to spend as he pleased, but I was totally up to using logic and persuassion to help him chose the right toy.
"That's a big one. I want a little one," he said, as he honed in one small truck.
"How much is that one?"
"Nine. Nine dollars."
"Can you afford that?"
"No."
"Keep looking then." SCORE! This was going better than last year. Look what a year of growing and learning could do. His searching down the over his budget aisle was taking a bit long. We still had other stops to make and my pizza was getting cold in the car. "Do you like these planes?" I inquired, seeing planes and tanks in his price range. And of course, he chooses the plane not in my hand that's over his budget. "How much is that plane?"
"Eight dollars."
"Okay then. Do you like this one or this one? If you get this green one, you can get a little car too? So do you want to buy two things with your money or one?"
"Can I look back where the girls got their stuff from?"
"Of course."
So back we went. While Jory looked at the items in the five dollar price range and I explained the various combos he could get, Rowan discovered the recorder. Much to my dismay it was the same price as the doll.
"Mommy, I want this. So does the baby."
"Are you sure you don't want the doll?"
Rowan shook her head, grabbed the recorders, and handed one to her sister.
"Mommy, can we go back to the other aisle with the planes?"
Back we went to the boys' side as Layla and Rowan sang Swing Low, Sweet Chariot into their microphones. If they actually purchased those things, I was going to go crazy, I thought. Jory perused his options again and finally decided to purchase the green plane and a blue car.
Less than an hour and we were actually getting ready to leave the store. Score! But how do I live through the nightmare that these microphones will become? As we passed the bargain aisle, Rowan requested we go back down that particular aisle. God, who always has my back, showed up and right before my eyes my daughter said she didn't want the recorder, she wanted her doll back. Thank you Jesus! The baby followed suit. SCOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEE!!!!
I quickly swapped out the recorders for the dolls and swiftly moved away from the aisle. I decided to take a quick look at the Karoke cds they had. Oooh, the temptation. Country women with songs I knew. Current country hits with songs I knew. And then, a country cd that had songs from Lady Antebellum, Carrie Underwood, Darius "Hootie" Rucker, Sugarland, and Zac Brown Band, the group that got me into country music to begin with. I carried the cds up to the register and pondered them as she totaled the kids' purchases. But I'm trying to get on the Dave Ramsey plan to become debt free and I won't become debt free buying karoke cds I don't need. So we left them inside the store.
The kids and I walked outside as I tried to encourage them not to open their toys yet. Too late Mommy, Jory's fingers are fast.
A learing math day for everyone.
I put the girls in the basket and as we walked down a main aisle, I saw Matchbox cars in the middle of the aisle. Yep, they are only ninety-nine cents.
"Jory, do you see any cars or trucks you like? You can get six of them," I informed my six-year-old son subtly reminding him that he can spend his years in life at Toys R Us.
He looked around the display for a moment. "No, I don't want a car."
Please God, don't let this be a trip like last time when I left after over an hour and a half in the store not sure where to strangle myself or Jory. "Do you know what you want?"
"A firetruck," he said casually as he turned onto another aisle.
"Jory, you cannot buy a firetruck for only six dollars, unless you buy a small one." I wasn't going to let him get to me. He wasn't going to drive me mad this time. I'd focus on the girls first.
We turned onto the dollar aisle. I let Layla look in three dollar section, she wasn't interested in the balls or the cars. I hoped she wouldn't be difficult. As she browsed, I explained to Rowan there was no four dollar section, so she could get something in the three dollar section and one thing from the dollar section. My middle daughter looked at all her options quickly and decided on the miniature doll who came with a wardrobe. Upon seeing her pick out the doll, the baby decided she wanted that too. SCORE! My girls rocked my world with their easiness. I encouraged Rowan to get some Princess crayons for a dollar and she was very agreeable to this. Girls rock!
With the girls finished shopping, we left the bargain aisle and headed for the boys' section. My eldest searched the aisle for a firetruck.
"Jory, you already have a firetruck at home. Do you really need another one?" I asked. I wasn't going to force him to buy something he didn't want. It was his six dollars to spend as he pleased, but I was totally up to using logic and persuassion to help him chose the right toy.
"That's a big one. I want a little one," he said, as he honed in one small truck.
"How much is that one?"
"Nine. Nine dollars."
"Can you afford that?"
"No."
"Keep looking then." SCORE! This was going better than last year. Look what a year of growing and learning could do. His searching down the over his budget aisle was taking a bit long. We still had other stops to make and my pizza was getting cold in the car. "Do you like these planes?" I inquired, seeing planes and tanks in his price range. And of course, he chooses the plane not in my hand that's over his budget. "How much is that plane?"
"Eight dollars."
"Okay then. Do you like this one or this one? If you get this green one, you can get a little car too? So do you want to buy two things with your money or one?"
"Can I look back where the girls got their stuff from?"
"Of course."
So back we went. While Jory looked at the items in the five dollar price range and I explained the various combos he could get, Rowan discovered the recorder. Much to my dismay it was the same price as the doll.
"Mommy, I want this. So does the baby."
"Are you sure you don't want the doll?"
Rowan shook her head, grabbed the recorders, and handed one to her sister.
"Mommy, can we go back to the other aisle with the planes?"
Back we went to the boys' side as Layla and Rowan sang Swing Low, Sweet Chariot into their microphones. If they actually purchased those things, I was going to go crazy, I thought. Jory perused his options again and finally decided to purchase the green plane and a blue car.
Less than an hour and we were actually getting ready to leave the store. Score! But how do I live through the nightmare that these microphones will become? As we passed the bargain aisle, Rowan requested we go back down that particular aisle. God, who always has my back, showed up and right before my eyes my daughter said she didn't want the recorder, she wanted her doll back. Thank you Jesus! The baby followed suit. SCOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEE!!!!
I quickly swapped out the recorders for the dolls and swiftly moved away from the aisle. I decided to take a quick look at the Karoke cds they had. Oooh, the temptation. Country women with songs I knew. Current country hits with songs I knew. And then, a country cd that had songs from Lady Antebellum, Carrie Underwood, Darius "Hootie" Rucker, Sugarland, and Zac Brown Band, the group that got me into country music to begin with. I carried the cds up to the register and pondered them as she totaled the kids' purchases. But I'm trying to get on the Dave Ramsey plan to become debt free and I won't become debt free buying karoke cds I don't need. So we left them inside the store.
The kids and I walked outside as I tried to encourage them not to open their toys yet. Too late Mommy, Jory's fingers are fast.
A learing math day for everyone.
Aunt Beatrice
Today my cousins buried their last parent having lost their father, my Uncle Reid five or so years ago. My Aunt Sister as she was known, interesting how some nicknames stick around forever, was a wonderful woman who could sing like nobody's business. My mom told me gospel legend Shirley Ceasar offered our aunt a lifechanging career opportunity to sing with her. My great aunt turned her down. She and Uncle Reid and their daughters sang at their church, they toured throughout the South singing praises to the Lord.
The last time I spent time with my aunt was when we went home nearly five years ago to attend my great uncle/great great uncle's funeral (my grandma and her aunt married two brothers). Aunt Sister looked at the then seven-month-old Jory and said, "He looks just like Penny Pop." Penny Pop is what her father, my great-grandfather was called by his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. My mom and I looked at each other and just smiled. It was/is possible that Jory favors Penny Pop according to our DNA we're all no more than 20th cousins, so...
We took her to lunch a few days after the funeral and even though she was having hearing problems, her mind was still intact. She directed us to the cemetary and showed us where her sister, Eula, was buried, then directed us to her husband's grave with no problems. Still odd to think of cemetaries with street names. She caught us up on life in the family.
I'll always remember the stylish woman who sang beautifully and was always quick to give a hug and a kiss. She is reunited with her beloved husband of over fifty years, her parents, her siblings, including my grandma, and a host of other believing loved ones. Now she is singing her praises to God face to face.
One of these mornings won't be very long
You will look for me and I'll be gone
I'm going to a place where I'll have nothing, nothing to do
But just walk around
Walk around heaven all day
When I get to heaven I'm gonna sing and shout
Nobody will be able to put me out
My mother will be waiting
And my father, too
And we'll just walk around
Walk around heaven all day
Every day will be Sunday, my Lord
Sabbath will have no end
And we'll do nothing but sing and praise Him
Then He'll say well done
And my race, my race will be won
And I'll walk around
Walk around heaven all day
The last time I spent time with my aunt was when we went home nearly five years ago to attend my great uncle/great great uncle's funeral (my grandma and her aunt married two brothers). Aunt Sister looked at the then seven-month-old Jory and said, "He looks just like Penny Pop." Penny Pop is what her father, my great-grandfather was called by his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. My mom and I looked at each other and just smiled. It was/is possible that Jory favors Penny Pop according to our DNA we're all no more than 20th cousins, so...
We took her to lunch a few days after the funeral and even though she was having hearing problems, her mind was still intact. She directed us to the cemetary and showed us where her sister, Eula, was buried, then directed us to her husband's grave with no problems. Still odd to think of cemetaries with street names. She caught us up on life in the family.
I'll always remember the stylish woman who sang beautifully and was always quick to give a hug and a kiss. She is reunited with her beloved husband of over fifty years, her parents, her siblings, including my grandma, and a host of other believing loved ones. Now she is singing her praises to God face to face.
One of these mornings won't be very long
You will look for me and I'll be gone
I'm going to a place where I'll have nothing, nothing to do
But just walk around
Walk around heaven all day
When I get to heaven I'm gonna sing and shout
Nobody will be able to put me out
My mother will be waiting
And my father, too
And we'll just walk around
Walk around heaven all day
Every day will be Sunday, my Lord
Sabbath will have no end
And we'll do nothing but sing and praise Him
Then He'll say well done
And my race, my race will be won
And I'll walk around
Walk around heaven all day
Monday, March 21, 2011
Happy Birthday, Grandma!!!
Today my grandma would have been 93. I wish she was here. I wish I could talk to her as an adult, to ask her about her childhood, growing up with almost twenty siblings, now that I think about it I'm sure getting married and just living with my grandpa must have been a slice of heaven. She had probably never lived in such quiet.
I would love to ask her how it was raising ten children to adulthood, how she survived rearing children so close together in age. My mom's clique are about the same age as mine. My mom is two years and twenty-five days older than her brother who in turn is fifteen months older than my aunt.
I would love to ask her about how her faith stayed strong and when it wavered how did she keep going being born at the end of one war, being a teen through the Depression, raising children through two other wars, rearing children from the late '30s to the '70s, losing children, parents, siblings, divorcing, remarrying and becoming a minister's wife, along with every day life stuff.
My grandma was one incredibly lady who loved her family and most importantly loved her Creator. Maybe if I remember the questions or if they seen important when I see her again, I'll ask her. I wish my kids could have known her, be held by her, but didn't she do something better for them...she prayed for them, prayed for the future generations she might never see. I pray that one day she will get to see them.
Happy Birthday Grandma! I love you! I miss you!
I would love to ask her how it was raising ten children to adulthood, how she survived rearing children so close together in age. My mom's clique are about the same age as mine. My mom is two years and twenty-five days older than her brother who in turn is fifteen months older than my aunt.
I would love to ask her about how her faith stayed strong and when it wavered how did she keep going being born at the end of one war, being a teen through the Depression, raising children through two other wars, rearing children from the late '30s to the '70s, losing children, parents, siblings, divorcing, remarrying and becoming a minister's wife, along with every day life stuff.
My grandma was one incredibly lady who loved her family and most importantly loved her Creator. Maybe if I remember the questions or if they seen important when I see her again, I'll ask her. I wish my kids could have known her, be held by her, but didn't she do something better for them...she prayed for them, prayed for the future generations she might never see. I pray that one day she will get to see them.
Happy Birthday Grandma! I love you! I miss you!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Bait and switch
such beautiful words, the words mothers' hearts beat a little faster when they hear, but sometimes sadly it is used as a ploy. Take in case on baby who says, "I love you, Mommy," in her baby voice that melts your heart, until you realize she's saying it to distract you from something she had no business doing or to distract from the mess she created.
And I love you is not just put out there by themselves, usually it comes with a kiss and/or trying to get you to pick her up so she can wrap her little arms around you. If you don't pick her up, she tries to climb up you until you're forced to help out or she will fall. It would all melt your heart if you didn't know she was trying to pull a fast one.
And when you don't fall for the ploy and confront the baby on what she's done she turns into my friend, Mimi. I remember Mimi getting in trouble at school, during chapel or some other class for talking usually. After her talking to she'd walk back over to the group and we'd ask, what did the teacher say; and she'd answer, "I don't know, I wasn't paying attention." We'd laugh. But I feel that's Layla, I try to get her to make eye contact with me so we can have a convo about what she was doing and she avoids my eyes like the plague. Then the tears start to fall, all ways to avoid getting into trouble or even talking about what she might have done wrong. Sometimes "I sorry, Mommy," is belted out in between the sobs and the head movement to avoid looking at Mommy. Finally Mommy has to grab the chin, then work on making the eyes look into Mommy's before the conversation can begin.
Boys say "I love you" to get sex. Girls have sex to hear "I love you." And sometimes babies say "I love you" to avoid getting in trouble.
And I love you is not just put out there by themselves, usually it comes with a kiss and/or trying to get you to pick her up so she can wrap her little arms around you. If you don't pick her up, she tries to climb up you until you're forced to help out or she will fall. It would all melt your heart if you didn't know she was trying to pull a fast one.
And when you don't fall for the ploy and confront the baby on what she's done she turns into my friend, Mimi. I remember Mimi getting in trouble at school, during chapel or some other class for talking usually. After her talking to she'd walk back over to the group and we'd ask, what did the teacher say; and she'd answer, "I don't know, I wasn't paying attention." We'd laugh. But I feel that's Layla, I try to get her to make eye contact with me so we can have a convo about what she was doing and she avoids my eyes like the plague. Then the tears start to fall, all ways to avoid getting into trouble or even talking about what she might have done wrong. Sometimes "I sorry, Mommy," is belted out in between the sobs and the head movement to avoid looking at Mommy. Finally Mommy has to grab the chin, then work on making the eyes look into Mommy's before the conversation can begin.
Boys say "I love you" to get sex. Girls have sex to hear "I love you." And sometimes babies say "I love you" to avoid getting in trouble.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Kisses
"I love you, Mommy," the baby says, as she puts her tiny palms on my cheeks and kisses me on the lips.
Sometimes she makes the kissing noise, sometimes she doesn't. Not sure where she learned that from since her brother and since abhor anything that looks like kissing that comes across the TV screen.
Jory still kisses though he thinks it gross to see on TV, but now he does multiple kisses. A kiss on the cheek, on the forehead, on the top of the head.
Rowan would drown you in kisses if you let her, giggling while she did so.
When Sasha was a newborn and I went to kiss her, I'd end up with her tongue in my mouth. That greedy baby thought anything coming close to those lips must be food so her tongue was ready for action. Funny, she was a tiny baby for someone who always thought formula was coming her way.
I like kissing sleeping babies. I'll look over at Layla and lean over and kiss her neck, right under ear, and kiss those adorable cheeks. In the mornings, the older two get kisses wherever I can plant them when I'm dropping them off for school. The baby usually gets two kisses, right before Happy opens the door and takes her in her arms.
I love giving and getting kisses from my babies.
I'll cover you
With a thousand sweet kisses
Sometimes she makes the kissing noise, sometimes she doesn't. Not sure where she learned that from since her brother and since abhor anything that looks like kissing that comes across the TV screen.
Jory still kisses though he thinks it gross to see on TV, but now he does multiple kisses. A kiss on the cheek, on the forehead, on the top of the head.
Rowan would drown you in kisses if you let her, giggling while she did so.
When Sasha was a newborn and I went to kiss her, I'd end up with her tongue in my mouth. That greedy baby thought anything coming close to those lips must be food so her tongue was ready for action. Funny, she was a tiny baby for someone who always thought formula was coming her way.
I like kissing sleeping babies. I'll look over at Layla and lean over and kiss her neck, right under ear, and kiss those adorable cheeks. In the mornings, the older two get kisses wherever I can plant them when I'm dropping them off for school. The baby usually gets two kisses, right before Happy opens the door and takes her in her arms.
I love giving and getting kisses from my babies.
I'll cover you
With a thousand sweet kisses
Monday, March 14, 2011
Six-year-old boys
Jory turned six and I decided he needed a new chore or chores. One of them is helping pump the gas. So before driving home from the OC, I stopped at the gas station. Jory was sitting in the back, his usual spot, talking and playing with his cousin so I thought this time I'll let him play and talk. Next thing I know Jory is opening the car door.
"Mommy, you said my job is to pump the gas."
"Yes, I did."
He got out the car and started helping me pump the gas.
I love six-year-old boys who remember their chores.
"Mommy, you said my job is to pump the gas."
"Yes, I did."
He got out the car and started helping me pump the gas.
I love six-year-old boys who remember their chores.
Educated babes
On Friday, Jory and I were in the bathroom getting him dressed for school.
"Jory, why didn't you put on a pull-up last night?" I asked, frustrated.
"Because, Mommy there was an earthquake and houses and cars were swept away," he answered.
I scanned my mind quickly. Did I feel any shakes last night? "Jory, there was no earthquake. You've got to remember to wear your pull-ups." Note to self, need to tell Oma to stop watching the Sci-Fi Channel with TTT.
Hours later, I was walking the Grove with my friend, Ann, and she told me how relatives and loved ones in the Midwest and East Coast were calling, texting her to make sure she was okay. And suddenly it clicked, Jory was talking about the earthquake. Whatever he and Oma were watching was interrupted by news of the earthquake.
Who knew my son was a news man.
"Jory, why didn't you put on a pull-up last night?" I asked, frustrated.
"Because, Mommy there was an earthquake and houses and cars were swept away," he answered.
I scanned my mind quickly. Did I feel any shakes last night? "Jory, there was no earthquake. You've got to remember to wear your pull-ups." Note to self, need to tell Oma to stop watching the Sci-Fi Channel with TTT.
Hours later, I was walking the Grove with my friend, Ann, and she told me how relatives and loved ones in the Midwest and East Coast were calling, texting her to make sure she was okay. And suddenly it clicked, Jory was talking about the earthquake. Whatever he and Oma were watching was interrupted by news of the earthquake.
Who knew my son was a news man.
Friday, March 11, 2011
The best of intentions
Last night my aunt called at the beginning of bath time. She wanted me to go on-line and price some airline tickets for her. I told I would do it, but I had to do it after bathtime. She said fine and hung up.
It's now 7AM and I realized I never called her back. Yeah....If I say, I'm going to do something after bath time, ignore me and call me the next day or at work or send me an email. Nothing gets done after bathtime, story time, and devotional time, especially if it was a morning where I was up at 2AM. Working all day, cleaning up, bathtime and all of its necessities tires me out. I really meant to call her back, but I'm pretty sure I was stumbling over words during story time. And I'm pretty sure I fell asleep quick and fast because I woke up this morning and Jory, who I was pretty sure in the room last night, was nowhere to be found. Or maybe, Jory did leave after devotionals. See I can't even remember.
So now I'll look up those flight tickets. I'm such a morning person, always have been. If you need something or need me to do something ask me in the mornings or on my drive to and from work or send me an email. I have the best of intentions when I come home from work, but sometimes, most of the times, the world of TTT is a vortex I can't get out of until they are dropped off at school. The same goes with calling me. If you need me at night or on the weekend, call my house not my cellphone. That thing is rarely heard once I enter the house.
It's now 7AM and I realized I never called her back. Yeah....If I say, I'm going to do something after bath time, ignore me and call me the next day or at work or send me an email. Nothing gets done after bathtime, story time, and devotional time, especially if it was a morning where I was up at 2AM. Working all day, cleaning up, bathtime and all of its necessities tires me out. I really meant to call her back, but I'm pretty sure I was stumbling over words during story time. And I'm pretty sure I fell asleep quick and fast because I woke up this morning and Jory, who I was pretty sure in the room last night, was nowhere to be found. Or maybe, Jory did leave after devotionals. See I can't even remember.
So now I'll look up those flight tickets. I'm such a morning person, always have been. If you need something or need me to do something ask me in the mornings or on my drive to and from work or send me an email. I have the best of intentions when I come home from work, but sometimes, most of the times, the world of TTT is a vortex I can't get out of until they are dropped off at school. The same goes with calling me. If you need me at night or on the weekend, call my house not my cellphone. That thing is rarely heard once I enter the house.
The more things change, the more they stay the same
Driving home, I was talking to Mona on the phone and she asked me when the baby was going to start school. I told her in April and that I hadn't started her sooner because she's my baby. My little pequena whom I adore. And this maybe my last go round, at least for now, at having a baby and I want to milk it for all its worth.
She said, you didn't give birth to her or the other two. You adopted them. You could just go adopt another.
Obviously I kept way too much to myself about the adoption process. And obviously some people have the heart and mind to understand adoption and others don't.
I let the subject dropped. I wish I could just go down and adopt another one. If only it was that simple.
She said, you didn't give birth to her or the other two. You adopted them. You could just go adopt another.
Obviously I kept way too much to myself about the adoption process. And obviously some people have the heart and mind to understand adoption and others don't.
I let the subject dropped. I wish I could just go down and adopt another one. If only it was that simple.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Amazing Race
As I watch my two girls play, I think they would make good candidates for The Amazing Race. They would make good television. Twenty years from now if their personalities don't change greatly (which I hope they do in some areas), Rowan scared, crying because she doesn't want to do the challenge. Layla saying, "Snap out of it!" firmly and with a slap a la Cher in Moonstruck.
Through the tears, Rowan does the challenge and succeeds in a quick amount of time, then comes back to Layla all proud of herself with the next clue in hand. Layla gives her big sister a hug, throws her backpack at her as they run off to find a taxi.
Yep, they'd make for some great TV. Although Jory, Oma, and I would have to disavow all knowledge of them, not allow them to use our last name, and ask that they wear disguises, cause I do believe it could get that "I don't know those two people" crazy between them. But I will gladly accept the cruise tickets they had me from their million dollar winnings.
Through the tears, Rowan does the challenge and succeeds in a quick amount of time, then comes back to Layla all proud of herself with the next clue in hand. Layla gives her big sister a hug, throws her backpack at her as they run off to find a taxi.
Yep, they'd make for some great TV. Although Jory, Oma, and I would have to disavow all knowledge of them, not allow them to use our last name, and ask that they wear disguises, cause I do believe it could get that "I don't know those two people" crazy between them. But I will gladly accept the cruise tickets they had me from their million dollar winnings.
Easter Shopping
I'm not sure when, but at some point I decided life would be so much easier for myself and TTT, if I pre-empted Oma shopping for Easter clothes. So what I decided to do is start at Children's Place and buy every possible Easter dress contender in the girls' sizes, take them home, let the girls try on Oma's top choices, and if there is a winner or a possible winner we keep those dresses and take all the rest back.
This year did not start off so good. First of all, I thought I was being early for shopping for Easter dresses in the beginning of March, but what I discovered was I wasn't. Since Easter is near the end of April and that's the time when stores are selling summer items so yeah Easter sort of got a bum wrap this year. Second, my usually dependable Children's Place decided obviously that Easter wasn't important or maybe their buyer was high because the dresses they had UNIMPRESIVE, not even sure if I would buy any for the girls to wear on any random Sunday to church. And on top of not so great dresses, they had no coordinating outfits for the boys. It's official, their buyer was high. Coordination between the sexes is what CP has going for it above all the other stores, but apparently not this year.
After meeting my disappointment there, I went to TJ Maxx, Ross, Macy's, JCPenney's, and KMart. After returning dresses to JCP, I decided to hop over to Marshall's on the off chance they had something and guess what I found. I found the Easter dress I had just returned to JCP because they didn't have Layla's size and I found the dress for half the price. SCORE!!!!! I quickly swooped up the two dresses in the girls' sizes, then went to look for Jory's outfit.
I placed a call to Oma which led to her saying that she believed Jory had reached the age where he should be wearing suits on Easter and not just pants, shirt, vest, and tie. I looked around and found a suit in his size, but it was dark blue and pinstriped. Uh, yeah nothing screams Easter like dark colors. I diagreed with her new found belief and tried to emphasize how navy is not an Easter color, particularly since she had vetoed Easter dresses for being too dark. As we were talking, I came upon light grey pants, vest, and tie with a pink shirt. The girls and their brother could once again be coordinated, but only if we could convince Oma.
There was no convincing Oma, but we did come up with a compromise. Jory would get the pinstriped suit and the grey and pink outfit to go along with the girls' dresses. A win all around and at a fraction of the cost. Why was I never informed there was a certain age when boys graduated to wearing suits only to church? Don't answer that, it doesn't matter until next Easter. This Easter all that is left is finding shoes. Thank God Oma doesn't have that many options to chose from.
This year did not start off so good. First of all, I thought I was being early for shopping for Easter dresses in the beginning of March, but what I discovered was I wasn't. Since Easter is near the end of April and that's the time when stores are selling summer items so yeah Easter sort of got a bum wrap this year. Second, my usually dependable Children's Place decided obviously that Easter wasn't important or maybe their buyer was high because the dresses they had UNIMPRESIVE, not even sure if I would buy any for the girls to wear on any random Sunday to church. And on top of not so great dresses, they had no coordinating outfits for the boys. It's official, their buyer was high. Coordination between the sexes is what CP has going for it above all the other stores, but apparently not this year.
After meeting my disappointment there, I went to TJ Maxx, Ross, Macy's, JCPenney's, and KMart. After returning dresses to JCP, I decided to hop over to Marshall's on the off chance they had something and guess what I found. I found the Easter dress I had just returned to JCP because they didn't have Layla's size and I found the dress for half the price. SCORE!!!!! I quickly swooped up the two dresses in the girls' sizes, then went to look for Jory's outfit.
I placed a call to Oma which led to her saying that she believed Jory had reached the age where he should be wearing suits on Easter and not just pants, shirt, vest, and tie. I looked around and found a suit in his size, but it was dark blue and pinstriped. Uh, yeah nothing screams Easter like dark colors. I diagreed with her new found belief and tried to emphasize how navy is not an Easter color, particularly since she had vetoed Easter dresses for being too dark. As we were talking, I came upon light grey pants, vest, and tie with a pink shirt. The girls and their brother could once again be coordinated, but only if we could convince Oma.
There was no convincing Oma, but we did come up with a compromise. Jory would get the pinstriped suit and the grey and pink outfit to go along with the girls' dresses. A win all around and at a fraction of the cost. Why was I never informed there was a certain age when boys graduated to wearing suits only to church? Don't answer that, it doesn't matter until next Easter. This Easter all that is left is finding shoes. Thank God Oma doesn't have that many options to chose from.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
I don't need them...
"Jory, you didn't put a pull-up on last night," I said to him, as he got up in the morning.
"I didn't wet myself," he answered proudly.
"I know you didn't wet yourself, but you wear the pull-up every night for the nights when you do wet yourself," I countered.
"But I didn't wet myself, Mommy," he repeated still proud.
"Yes, I know," I said, letting the subject manner drop.
Years ago, Grace introduced me to a church friend of hers named Shelly. SHelly was a fun loving girl with a great heart. Shelly suffered from seizures and had to take medication to try and prevent them. She could go months without one, then she'd convince herself she was "cured" and didn't need the medicine. Of course without fail, sadly she'd have another seizure then go back on the meds.
One day, on a bus bench in one of the Carolinas, thousands of miles from home, Shelly had a seizure. A seizure that ended her earthly life as she was trying to get back home to Santa Monica. I don't believe she was taking her medication at the time.
Whenever Jory doesn't wet himself through the night and isn't wearing his pull-up, he feels like its proof that he doesn't need to wear one; and I automatically think of Shelly and her arguments on why she didn't need her medication.
"I didn't wet myself," he answered proudly.
"I know you didn't wet yourself, but you wear the pull-up every night for the nights when you do wet yourself," I countered.
"But I didn't wet myself, Mommy," he repeated still proud.
"Yes, I know," I said, letting the subject manner drop.
Years ago, Grace introduced me to a church friend of hers named Shelly. SHelly was a fun loving girl with a great heart. Shelly suffered from seizures and had to take medication to try and prevent them. She could go months without one, then she'd convince herself she was "cured" and didn't need the medicine. Of course without fail, sadly she'd have another seizure then go back on the meds.
One day, on a bus bench in one of the Carolinas, thousands of miles from home, Shelly had a seizure. A seizure that ended her earthly life as she was trying to get back home to Santa Monica. I don't believe she was taking her medication at the time.
Whenever Jory doesn't wet himself through the night and isn't wearing his pull-up, he feels like its proof that he doesn't need to wear one; and I automatically think of Shelly and her arguments on why she didn't need her medication.
Crying phases...
I love the baby, my baby....but recently I want to scream in the mornings. She's been waking up early so Oma can drop her off at Aunt Brenda's. So maybe it's the 6AM wake up call, but whatever it is the constant crying is driving me batty.
She cries when I wake her up. She cries and tries to stop me from getting her dress. She's so inconsolable that she can't even respond to my question as to why she's crying. I've almost been tempted to bribe her, but I refrain. Don't need to start that precedence.
On the good days, she stops crying after I brush her teeth and hair. On the not so good days, I'm wiping away tears and rocking her in my arms until she and her Oma leave.
But on the bright side at least she's not like this all the time. And maybe she really does need that extra hour and a half of beauty sleep she use to get when she went to Happy's.
She cries when I wake her up. She cries and tries to stop me from getting her dress. She's so inconsolable that she can't even respond to my question as to why she's crying. I've almost been tempted to bribe her, but I refrain. Don't need to start that precedence.
On the good days, she stops crying after I brush her teeth and hair. On the not so good days, I'm wiping away tears and rocking her in my arms until she and her Oma leave.
But on the bright side at least she's not like this all the time. And maybe she really does need that extra hour and a half of beauty sleep she use to get when she went to Happy's.
Crazy Girl
I was innocently standing in line in Pic n Save, talking on the phone, when I hear, "my sister" said in a tone that was neither nice or friendly. I ignored the baby at first, then I heard again "yada, yada, my sister," said in the exact same tone.
I quickly covered her mouth as I looked at the five or six-year-old boy standing next to his mom, in front of us, who had a slightly puzzled look on his face. From what I gathered, the little boy was telling his mom about how my escaped convict aka Rowan had to stand right next to a display with her hands in her pocket because she was trying to run around the store.
The baby understood enough of the convo to realize this little boy was talking about her sister. So I think what she was saying to him, "Don't talk about my sister" or "Don't talk to my sister."
Either way after putting my hand on her mouth, I tilted her head back and looked in her eyes and said, "No. Stop. Cease and desist. (Man, I miss Digital Underground and Tupac.) We don't talk this way to people. Do you understand?"
She nodded her head.
I removed my hand and the baby instantly walked over to Rowan. She wrapped her tiny arms around her big sister, then turned her head to face this little boy and said, "yada, yada, my sister."
"Layla," I warned and she quieted down.
Really little baby wearing 18 month pants?!? You're going to take on a boy three times your size?!? Because you think he's trying to start something with your sister?!?! We don't pick fights and start somethin' with people bigger and tougher than us. Mad props for standing up for your sister. Except I'm 99.9% sure your sister didn't need standing up for. Oh my little, crazy girl!
I quickly covered her mouth as I looked at the five or six-year-old boy standing next to his mom, in front of us, who had a slightly puzzled look on his face. From what I gathered, the little boy was telling his mom about how my escaped convict aka Rowan had to stand right next to a display with her hands in her pocket because she was trying to run around the store.
The baby understood enough of the convo to realize this little boy was talking about her sister. So I think what she was saying to him, "Don't talk about my sister" or "Don't talk to my sister."
Either way after putting my hand on her mouth, I tilted her head back and looked in her eyes and said, "No. Stop. Cease and desist. (Man, I miss Digital Underground and Tupac.) We don't talk this way to people. Do you understand?"
She nodded her head.
I removed my hand and the baby instantly walked over to Rowan. She wrapped her tiny arms around her big sister, then turned her head to face this little boy and said, "yada, yada, my sister."
"Layla," I warned and she quieted down.
Really little baby wearing 18 month pants?!? You're going to take on a boy three times your size?!? Because you think he's trying to start something with your sister?!?! We don't pick fights and start somethin' with people bigger and tougher than us. Mad props for standing up for your sister. Except I'm 99.9% sure your sister didn't need standing up for. Oh my little, crazy girl!
Hiking
A month or so ago, Jory asked if we could go hiking. I looked at him strangely and thought, whose kid is this? No kid if mine would ask to go hiking. Not that a kid of mine wouldn't go hiking if that's what the class field trip was. And not that the kid wouldn't be excited to go hiking on the class field trip. But to independently ask to go hiking, nope, not my kid. Obviously Jory didn't get the no-go hiking memo.
So he asked and I emailed my childhood friend Sarah, the only person I know who hikes. Sarah agreed to take us hiking. She's awesome!
So after being on the freeway for forever, (where are all those people going on the 405 at 1PM on a Saturday?!?! Where?!?!), continuing on the wrong freeway, getting off and turning around to get on the right freeway, then getting off on the wrong exit, and stopping at Carl's Jr., we finally called Sarah to get directions. She kindly gave us some directed that I started to follow then decided to disregard as the human population seemed to be less than the animal population. We stopped at the gas station, got directions to a famous landmark near her house, and went to her house. Of course, she was at the park/hiking place. Her mom kindly gave me directions that were simple and easy that no one could mess up. I wasn't so sure about that.
I followed the directions, ended up at a dead end, then asked a nice couple if they knew where the park was, and the eleven-year-old boy, not with them, walking his dog knew where I was talking about and gave me directions. We found exactly where he was talking about, but it wasn't where Sarah was. An hour later and asking a few human beings, God granted me peace and I found the road I was suppose to be on and got on the street I had disregarded earlier.
Meanwhile my son says to his bear, "Bear, we're lost!" He became a chant really that he thought was hilarious.
I looked at him and asked, "You think you're funny, don't you?"
He just laughed.
I explained we're not lost when Mommy knows how to get back to Miss Sarah's house and how to get back on the freeway to take us back home. I don't think he bought that answer and soon the girls started chanting with him.
Sarah was patiently waiting there when we finally got there and the hike began. Through a stream, we hiked where Jory to his delight got wet and to Rowan's dismay she slipped and fell and got wet. The baby was completely dry because somehow she was carried for more than half the hike.
After finishing part of a trail, we went back to the nature center where Rowan wondered why the eagle was in a cage and couldn't be free. Uh, because then you would never see an eagle if it wasn't caged? I was thinking that, but I didn't say that to my four-year-old.
An hour of hiking with the sun setting we were finished and Jory asked, when could we do it again. Well, it'll be easier to find for sure since I know exactly where it is now.
Sarah, as always, was such a gracious host and replenished the kiddos with fruit then with dinner and homemade cookies.
All and all a great day, even if it did have a rocky middle. We drove home, did some Easter shopping, went home and finally had birthday cake and opened Rowan's birthday presents. It's like her birthday stretched a week.
The day was such fun, everyone went out like a light, and sadly we slept through church. An hour worth of hiking is the way to put TTT and Mommy out for the count.
So he asked and I emailed my childhood friend Sarah, the only person I know who hikes. Sarah agreed to take us hiking. She's awesome!
So after being on the freeway for forever, (where are all those people going on the 405 at 1PM on a Saturday?!?! Where?!?!), continuing on the wrong freeway, getting off and turning around to get on the right freeway, then getting off on the wrong exit, and stopping at Carl's Jr., we finally called Sarah to get directions. She kindly gave us some directed that I started to follow then decided to disregard as the human population seemed to be less than the animal population. We stopped at the gas station, got directions to a famous landmark near her house, and went to her house. Of course, she was at the park/hiking place. Her mom kindly gave me directions that were simple and easy that no one could mess up. I wasn't so sure about that.
I followed the directions, ended up at a dead end, then asked a nice couple if they knew where the park was, and the eleven-year-old boy, not with them, walking his dog knew where I was talking about and gave me directions. We found exactly where he was talking about, but it wasn't where Sarah was. An hour later and asking a few human beings, God granted me peace and I found the road I was suppose to be on and got on the street I had disregarded earlier.
Meanwhile my son says to his bear, "Bear, we're lost!" He became a chant really that he thought was hilarious.
I looked at him and asked, "You think you're funny, don't you?"
He just laughed.
I explained we're not lost when Mommy knows how to get back to Miss Sarah's house and how to get back on the freeway to take us back home. I don't think he bought that answer and soon the girls started chanting with him.
Sarah was patiently waiting there when we finally got there and the hike began. Through a stream, we hiked where Jory to his delight got wet and to Rowan's dismay she slipped and fell and got wet. The baby was completely dry because somehow she was carried for more than half the hike.
After finishing part of a trail, we went back to the nature center where Rowan wondered why the eagle was in a cage and couldn't be free. Uh, because then you would never see an eagle if it wasn't caged? I was thinking that, but I didn't say that to my four-year-old.
An hour of hiking with the sun setting we were finished and Jory asked, when could we do it again. Well, it'll be easier to find for sure since I know exactly where it is now.
Sarah, as always, was such a gracious host and replenished the kiddos with fruit then with dinner and homemade cookies.
All and all a great day, even if it did have a rocky middle. We drove home, did some Easter shopping, went home and finally had birthday cake and opened Rowan's birthday presents. It's like her birthday stretched a week.
The day was such fun, everyone went out like a light, and sadly we slept through church. An hour worth of hiking is the way to put TTT and Mommy out for the count.
Odyssey
I didn't want to buy a minivan because of it what it meant. If you have a minivan, you're officially like an old mom or something. You're something not cool. But after squeezing between Jory's and Sasha's and Jory's and Rowan's carseats in our Ford station wagon (not anything like the station wagons I grew up with...station wagons now-a-days are sedans with a hatchback attached) I knew there was no way Layla's carseat would fit back there so I knew I had to make the upgrade, especially since at the time I thought I needed room for baby number four too.
So I tested out some minivans, I remember getting in a Dodge minivan and the car feeling so big and long that I knew Jory and I could never have a convo. The Odyssey seemed big enough to carry my growing family, yet wasn't a gigantic boat.
I like our Odyssey though at times it's hard to hear Jory sitting all the way in the back and based on the mess he creates back there a bit too far from me, but there has to be some compromises.
On the way to AWANA, I hear my innocent, precious, tiny, baby boy ask, "What's a stripper?"
WHAT?!?!!?! "No more talking!" I commanded. I didn't even ask what he and Sami were talking about. It didn't even matter because whatever it was it was inappropriate and my baby had no need to know what a stripper was. And I'm not sure why my eight-year-old cousin even knows what one is.
So I tested out some minivans, I remember getting in a Dodge minivan and the car feeling so big and long that I knew Jory and I could never have a convo. The Odyssey seemed big enough to carry my growing family, yet wasn't a gigantic boat.
I like our Odyssey though at times it's hard to hear Jory sitting all the way in the back and based on the mess he creates back there a bit too far from me, but there has to be some compromises.
On the way to AWANA, I hear my innocent, precious, tiny, baby boy ask, "What's a stripper?"
WHAT?!?!!?! "No more talking!" I commanded. I didn't even ask what he and Sami were talking about. It didn't even matter because whatever it was it was inappropriate and my baby had no need to know what a stripper was. And I'm not sure why my eight-year-old cousin even knows what one is.
I never thought about it like that...
A woman I met, who will hopefully one day be my little friend's sister, said to me, if you're thinking about having another child then that means your home life with the child you just added has become normal. She said that to me last summer when I met her and we were talking kids and I pondered her words. She's right. I think we have hit our new normal and we're loving it. So the thoughts turn to baby number four.
Once upon a time I wanted six kids, which turned to twelve, which at one point turned to twenty, but only if we were super rich. Then I was back to twelve, lowered it to six, until I went over to Tracy's and Rob's and saw the laundry required for five and my number lowered to four, which technically doubles to eight when everyone is married so SCORE!
Layla was added to the mix and as clear as day I can still see my naked, crying one-year-old twins wanting to get dressed for bed and I thought this crying is going to drive me insane and I can't do this again. Three is the loveliest number that you ever did see.
But now after two years, our new norm is normal, and the thought of number four is back. Not in an active, Where in the world is Tatum or Jack sort of way (my gosh, Where in the World is, Carmen SanDiego? was the best show), but in a if God brings me to it, then my arms are open and I'm saying, "Jory, Rowan, Layla, one of you, get me a bottle for Tatum/Jack." I need to really start working on the baby name list again.
Once upon a time I wanted six kids, which turned to twelve, which at one point turned to twenty, but only if we were super rich. Then I was back to twelve, lowered it to six, until I went over to Tracy's and Rob's and saw the laundry required for five and my number lowered to four, which technically doubles to eight when everyone is married so SCORE!
Layla was added to the mix and as clear as day I can still see my naked, crying one-year-old twins wanting to get dressed for bed and I thought this crying is going to drive me insane and I can't do this again. Three is the loveliest number that you ever did see.
But now after two years, our new norm is normal, and the thought of number four is back. Not in an active, Where in the world is Tatum or Jack sort of way (my gosh, Where in the World is, Carmen SanDiego? was the best show), but in a if God brings me to it, then my arms are open and I'm saying, "Jory, Rowan, Layla, one of you, get me a bottle for Tatum/Jack." I need to really start working on the baby name list again.
Little Ears
Over the weekend as Jory and I sat in the car, I commented, "It's hot."
Jory looked at me and said, "Mommy, it's not hot. It's hotter than a banshee."
I smiled brightly. I am so madly in love with this boy. He was right it was hotter than a banshee. I guess I must use the phrase "than a banshee" enough that Jory not only knows it, but knows how to use it also. Oh those little ears are not so little.
Jory looked at me and said, "Mommy, it's not hot. It's hotter than a banshee."
I smiled brightly. I am so madly in love with this boy. He was right it was hotter than a banshee. I guess I must use the phrase "than a banshee" enough that Jory not only knows it, but knows how to use it also. Oh those little ears are not so little.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Bedtime Prayers
You can always tell what we've done or who we've met based on Jory's prayers. Any adult who has made an impact on him, he remembers at his bedtime prayer. At times, he's tried to pray for his stuffed animals, which I tried to ixnay but a friend said, let it be so I did and he stopped. He prays for animals. I probably wouldn't, but we're not the same person so I let it go.
You can always tell what he does and doesn't understand also. Once he saw Auntie Dee Dee and Uncle Stan together at their house, then he started praying for both not just his Auntie. Now I realize, he's confused about Aunt LaLa's name. He prays for Aunt LaLa, then prays for Miss Julie's dad, Miss Julie's dad's dog, and Miss Julie. There's some disconnect there that Julie and Aunt LaLa are the same person. We'll have to work on that.
I love that when he meets someone, he adds them to his list of people to pray for. That he remembers them and prays for them.
I think I might love this sweet, praying little boy.
You can always tell what he does and doesn't understand also. Once he saw Auntie Dee Dee and Uncle Stan together at their house, then he started praying for both not just his Auntie. Now I realize, he's confused about Aunt LaLa's name. He prays for Aunt LaLa, then prays for Miss Julie's dad, Miss Julie's dad's dog, and Miss Julie. There's some disconnect there that Julie and Aunt LaLa are the same person. We'll have to work on that.
I love that when he meets someone, he adds them to his list of people to pray for. That he remembers them and prays for them.
I think I might love this sweet, praying little boy.
Tattling
Tattling is going to kill me.
"Mommy, Roro is playing with the doll you told her not to play with."
"Mommy, the Baby is on top of the sofa."
"Mommy, Jory pushed me."
"Mommy, the Baby pushed me."
"Mommy, Roro hit me."
Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! STOP!!! I don't want to hear it. If your sister or brother isn't gushing blood, if you don't see bone, or hear an awful breaking sound, don't tell me because I don't want to listen to tattling.
Gushing blood. Nope the sight of blood, that's not enough, it has to be gushing like a river then come tell me. Though I'm sure the piercing screams will alert me.
Breaking of bones. Mommy would like to be informed. Though I'm sure the piercing screams will alert me.
You know what head injuries I would like to be informed of. But that's it, everything else not listening. I love you endlessly, but not listening.
"Mommy, Roro is playing with the doll you told her not to play with."
"Mommy, the Baby is on top of the sofa."
"Mommy, Jory pushed me."
"Mommy, the Baby pushed me."
"Mommy, Roro hit me."
Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! STOP!!! I don't want to hear it. If your sister or brother isn't gushing blood, if you don't see bone, or hear an awful breaking sound, don't tell me because I don't want to listen to tattling.
Gushing blood. Nope the sight of blood, that's not enough, it has to be gushing like a river then come tell me. Though I'm sure the piercing screams will alert me.
Breaking of bones. Mommy would like to be informed. Though I'm sure the piercing screams will alert me.
You know what head injuries I would like to be informed of. But that's it, everything else not listening. I love you endlessly, but not listening.
I am very grateful
and thankful for my job. I like the extra money that overtime brings. But when you get home and your babies are sleep one night, two nights, and even the nightowl on the third night, it really brings home how meaningless the extra money is compared to the truly important things in life. Besides the fact that Oma hates bath and pj time. Hates it.
Mr. Brad and the Oscars
As we were driving to Brad's house, Jory inquired per usual as to where we were going. I told him we were going to an Oscar party at Mr. Brad's house.
"Mr. Brad is throwing a birthday party for Oscar?" he asked.
I forgot my children only know about birthday parties. "No, he's not throwing a birthday party for Oscar. He's throwing a party so we can watch the Oscars at his house."
"Oscar is throwing a birthday party at Mr. Brad's house?"
"No, Jory. No one is having a birthday party. It's an Oscar party. It's an awards show party."
"Huh?"
"We're going to Mr. Brad's to watch TV."
Jory paused and thought. "With Oscar?"
Hmm, how do I explain this to a six-year-old? "We're going to watch a television show that gives prizes to people who act in movies."
"Oh."
I guess broken down like that it doesn't sound so exciting.
"Baby, we're going to Mr. Brad's house," Jory cheered.
And just like that the boring party rebounds with the remembered knowledge that Mr. Brad will be seen for the second day in a row. First on Rowan's birthday at lunch and now at his house. Mr. Brad has made quite the lasting impression on Mr. Jory. I bet a certain someone will now be included in bedtime prayers.
"Mr. Brad is throwing a birthday party for Oscar?" he asked.
I forgot my children only know about birthday parties. "No, he's not throwing a birthday party for Oscar. He's throwing a party so we can watch the Oscars at his house."
"Oscar is throwing a birthday party at Mr. Brad's house?"
"No, Jory. No one is having a birthday party. It's an Oscar party. It's an awards show party."
"Huh?"
"We're going to Mr. Brad's to watch TV."
Jory paused and thought. "With Oscar?"
Hmm, how do I explain this to a six-year-old? "We're going to watch a television show that gives prizes to people who act in movies."
"Oh."
I guess broken down like that it doesn't sound so exciting.
"Baby, we're going to Mr. Brad's house," Jory cheered.
And just like that the boring party rebounds with the remembered knowledge that Mr. Brad will be seen for the second day in a row. First on Rowan's birthday at lunch and now at his house. Mr. Brad has made quite the lasting impression on Mr. Jory. I bet a certain someone will now be included in bedtime prayers.
My twins
I love my twins. I only have one more day then it's gone....I'll be back to having Irish twins. It's so interesting because no one asks me if they're twins during the glorious five weeks they are twins, but as soon as we get out of that period..BAM! Are they twins? Do you have twin girls?
I imagined this year that the girls would be dressed alike wearing the same hairstyles as they went to school together, but they aren't in school together so I'll have to wait until next year. Next year my twin daughters will be going to school together and it will ROCK!!!
I never thought or imagined the girls would be so close in age, but it's awesome that they are. I can't even imagine what I would be like if they were closer in age. Twins for the majority of the year? I would be overdosing on twinness.
Maybe with the next set of babies, I'll get twins.
I imagined this year that the girls would be dressed alike wearing the same hairstyles as they went to school together, but they aren't in school together so I'll have to wait until next year. Next year my twin daughters will be going to school together and it will ROCK!!!
I never thought or imagined the girls would be so close in age, but it's awesome that they are. I can't even imagine what I would be like if they were closer in age. Twins for the majority of the year? I would be overdosing on twinness.
Maybe with the next set of babies, I'll get twins.
For cute
On my phone is a picture of TTT. Layla is in her star footsie pjs that I got on sale at Children's Place. SCORE!! Jory is in his gingerbread pjs that he and Rowan wore for Christmas. And Rowan is rocking her Care Bear nightgown. The baby has a covered glue stick heading towards her mouth.
The picture was taken shortly after Layla came home and she loves this picture. She picks up my phone, smiles, and says, "Me. My brother. My sister." She says it so proudly and happily. A little girl in love with her siblings. It warms my heart.
The picture was taken shortly after Layla came home and she loves this picture. She picks up my phone, smiles, and says, "Me. My brother. My sister." She says it so proudly and happily. A little girl in love with her siblings. It warms my heart.
25 pounds and...
35 inches tall. This explains why she can still fit in the Baby Bjorn, yet we can't use it because those feet of hers keep kicking my knees.
How did my baby get so big and tall? Though when she's standing and I'm looking at her, she doesn't look that tall.
How did my baby get so big and tall? Though when she's standing and I'm looking at her, she doesn't look that tall.
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