Monday, August 22, 2011
$100,000 Pyramid
Looking for a car for my mother, who is convinced she doesn’t need one quite yet. Looking for a babysitter for Jory. Trying to find books for his schooling. Trying to find shorts on sale for next summer for Jory and Rowan. Things that make this blog a gazillion weeks behind.
Kisses and the opposite of kisses
There are moments when you want to smother them with kisses and hugs and in the next you want to strangle them. Saturday was one of those days.
We went to the park and I made it clear that the kids had to stay in either the fenced in area of the park where the jungle gym and train where or on the side I was sitting at with the swings and slides.
Life was great until I was in this intense conversation with this woman and I hear whisperings around me.
“Where’s Jory?” I heard.
I hated/felt uncomfortable to interrupt the woman who was baring her soul, but I had to find Jory. I couldn’t believe he walked away we had been at the park for over an hour and a half and he had followed the rules, but sure enough he wasn’t in the train or on the other side of the jungle gym.
“I saw him with the boy with the four wheeler,” my friend’s son said.
Are you kidding me?! We all knew exactly who he was talking about. Everyone had seen the little boy on his upgrade from the battery powered cars that sell at Toys R Us and a step down from a child’s four wheeler. Did I mention it was bright yellow? The husband in the group and I ran off to the grassy areas, where he thought they would be.
And sure enough coming towards us was Jory driving the four wheeler and look- - Rowan, who hadn’t even been missed, was sitting behind him and in front of the owner of the bike.
“Get off!” I demanded. I was speechless as they got off. Where did I even begin to explain all the poor decisions they had made that led to them getting on the four wheeler. I took their hands and noticed the little boy with his helmet on was still sitting there. “Thanks for letting them ride, but they won’t be getting back on.” He was nice in sharing his bike with them.
We walked away from the boy and I squatted down to their level. “Why would you get on his four wheeler?” I questioned Jory.
“Because it seemed like fun,” he whispered.
It’s official, I can’t talk to this six-year-old. He’s insane. “Rowan, why were on the bike?”
“I was following Jory,” the four-year-old responded.
“Was Jory being obedient?” I asked.
“No.”
“So then why were you following him?”
“Because,” she whispered. Between this answer and her continuously following the rat of the air behind the swings, I’m beginning to think she was born on a blonde and by the time she came home it had darkened up. Okay, let’s be honest by the time the hair finally made a real appearance it was brown. (From birth to one, Jory had more hair on his head than Rowan did her first two years of life.)
“We’re going home,” I declared. Did they understand what could have happened? Did they understand they can’t just walk away from me?
Several hours later, we were seated at an outdoor amphitheater watching Phineas and Ferb: Across the Dimensions 2-D and they were well behaved, listened, and I could have smothered them with kisses.
How they take me from one extreme to another is death-defying.
We went to the park and I made it clear that the kids had to stay in either the fenced in area of the park where the jungle gym and train where or on the side I was sitting at with the swings and slides.
Life was great until I was in this intense conversation with this woman and I hear whisperings around me.
“Where’s Jory?” I heard.
I hated/felt uncomfortable to interrupt the woman who was baring her soul, but I had to find Jory. I couldn’t believe he walked away we had been at the park for over an hour and a half and he had followed the rules, but sure enough he wasn’t in the train or on the other side of the jungle gym.
“I saw him with the boy with the four wheeler,” my friend’s son said.
Are you kidding me?! We all knew exactly who he was talking about. Everyone had seen the little boy on his upgrade from the battery powered cars that sell at Toys R Us and a step down from a child’s four wheeler. Did I mention it was bright yellow? The husband in the group and I ran off to the grassy areas, where he thought they would be.
And sure enough coming towards us was Jory driving the four wheeler and look- - Rowan, who hadn’t even been missed, was sitting behind him and in front of the owner of the bike.
“Get off!” I demanded. I was speechless as they got off. Where did I even begin to explain all the poor decisions they had made that led to them getting on the four wheeler. I took their hands and noticed the little boy with his helmet on was still sitting there. “Thanks for letting them ride, but they won’t be getting back on.” He was nice in sharing his bike with them.
We walked away from the boy and I squatted down to their level. “Why would you get on his four wheeler?” I questioned Jory.
“Because it seemed like fun,” he whispered.
It’s official, I can’t talk to this six-year-old. He’s insane. “Rowan, why were on the bike?”
“I was following Jory,” the four-year-old responded.
“Was Jory being obedient?” I asked.
“No.”
“So then why were you following him?”
“Because,” she whispered. Between this answer and her continuously following the rat of the air behind the swings, I’m beginning to think she was born on a blonde and by the time she came home it had darkened up. Okay, let’s be honest by the time the hair finally made a real appearance it was brown. (From birth to one, Jory had more hair on his head than Rowan did her first two years of life.)
“We’re going home,” I declared. Did they understand what could have happened? Did they understand they can’t just walk away from me?
Several hours later, we were seated at an outdoor amphitheater watching Phineas and Ferb: Across the Dimensions 2-D and they were well behaved, listened, and I could have smothered them with kisses.
How they take me from one extreme to another is death-defying.
My Rowan
My Rowan is such a sharer. She’ll give you a bite of her cookie, bring you one even if you’re sick when Oma is handing them out. She’ll dry your tears if you’re crying. She’ll give you a hug and pat your back. Instead of getting out of bed, she’ll stay with you and let you snuggle with her. My big girl the sharer, I love her to death.
I got it!
I got it! I actually got it. i opened the box and took out the 4 or 5 inch binder that contained Jory's Sonlight curriculum for a year. Crap! It's here. In less than a month, I'll be teaching my son. I won't just be his mommy teacher, but I'll be his teacher teacher.
And now I realize in order for him to have work to do at his babysitter's on the Tuesday after Labor Day, we're going to have to start school on Labor Day.
This is all so trippy. I guess i better go through my teacher's manual and start prepping things. Let the adventure begin....
And now I realize in order for him to have work to do at his babysitter's on the Tuesday after Labor Day, we're going to have to start school on Labor Day.
This is all so trippy. I guess i better go through my teacher's manual and start prepping things. Let the adventure begin....
They are watching...
“Come on you guys,” the baby called out. “Let’s go you guys!” she continued when people weren’t moving fast enough for her.
“You guys?” her Oma questioned.
It sounded odd to me too.
“Where did she get that from?” Oma asked.
I wasn’t sure, then I realized it came from me. Let’s go you guys! I say when we’re heading out. Come on guys, I say loudly when I want them to speed it up.
It dawned on me, her “yes, ma’am”s and “yes, sir”s also come from me. I use “sir” with Jory quite a bit.
I learned it by watching you, Dad. I learned it by watching you.
“You guys?” her Oma questioned.
It sounded odd to me too.
“Where did she get that from?” Oma asked.
I wasn’t sure, then I realized it came from me. Let’s go you guys! I say when we’re heading out. Come on guys, I say loudly when I want them to speed it up.
It dawned on me, her “yes, ma’am”s and “yes, sir”s also come from me. I use “sir” with Jory quite a bit.
I learned it by watching you, Dad. I learned it by watching you.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Where did my baby go?
“I’ll ask Mommy,” I hear from the other room as I try and soak in the bathtub.
“Mommy, may I have a donut?” Jory asks through the bathroom door.
“No,” I answer, he doesn’t really need sugar now does he?
“Can I have two donuts or three?” he inquires.
What? How do we go from none to two or three? “One.”
“I can have one now, then one later,” the six-year-old continues.
What?! Am I being conned? Whatever. “You can have two.”
“Thank you, Mommy.” He scampers away.
Where did my baby go? Who was that negotiator at the bathroom door?
“Mommy, may I have a donut?” Jory asks through the bathroom door.
“No,” I answer, he doesn’t really need sugar now does he?
“Can I have two donuts or three?” he inquires.
What? How do we go from none to two or three? “One.”
“I can have one now, then one later,” the six-year-old continues.
What?! Am I being conned? Whatever. “You can have two.”
“Thank you, Mommy.” He scampers away.
Where did my baby go? Who was that negotiator at the bathroom door?
Monday, August 15, 2011
Jack
I had a dream. I had an awesome dream. It involved Jory, Rowan, Layla, and Jack. Jack, the newest member of our family. But as of Friday, the dream, the awesome dream of Jack died with one phone call.
I had gone back and forth about Jack. Did I really want another baby, newborn to be specific, because I felt our family wasn’t complete or because I just wanted to buy cute little baby clothes? Did I want Jack waking me up every four hours to eat because our family wasn’t complete or because the baby is during into someone who can think thoughts and practically text message vote for her favorite on American Idol? I guess it came down to was this my will and desire or was it God’s? Were we on the same page like we had been three times before? So me being my wonderful, gracious self, I said and prayed, God, I’m content either way.
Of course, this meant I was looking for signs everywhere. When I saw a baby, I wondered do I feel a longing for that to me, as I remind Jory and Rowan to hold hands as we walked through the parking lot. As I watched the one-year-old toddle by me, I thought that could be me in a year or a year-and-a-half, as I realized my baby was no longer playing on the slide with her sister.
With Jack, I would be in the moment, I told myself. I would record when he first sat up, first rolled over, got his first tooth, said his first word, crawled for the first time, signed his first sign, grew his first tooth, and first felt that spoon on his tongue covered with “food”, how that horrible tasting stuff even has food in its title is beyond me. Jory, Rowan, and Layla could see, interact, and watch a baby grow before their own eyes. They could see the adoption process play out so they’ll know
what to expect in twenty-five years. Jory could have another one like him, as he informed me, in the house.
But then there was another part of me that said, uh, yeah maybe on the TTT’s blog which would have to change to some adjective that starts with a “Q”, then the word quad, would I write down when Jack had his milestones, but not while I’m at home with three other people calling out for “Mommy” and I’m homeschooling. I think the time to appreciate every precious moment was with Jory when there was nothing else to distract me and all those moments didn’t get written down then.
At the NACAC conference, I started overhearing things about the system, about DCF that put me on alert. I talked to some parents, one whom recently adopted from the system, to feel them out. I was left with an uneasy feeling, then someone recommended I talk to someone I trusted. Jory’s SW, I trusted her. I knew she would steer me in the right direction. I called once and left a message and then I heard nothing for days. I tried again on Friday and she said, “No.” She said this was the worse she had seen the system in the forty years she had been a SW. Six, nearly, gulp, seven years ago, God used this woman to tell me, yes, adopt this newborn whom you’ll call Jory. And now He used her to say, no, it’s not time for Jack.
What a relief to know the answer. Well maybe relief isn’t the right word, it’s just a blessing to know God answered my prayer and now I can put all my attention to finding the exact right daycare for Mr. Jory. I don’t know if God’s answer is no to Jack forever or if it’s no for right now, though He knows if the answer is no for a while then Jack will have to be joined by Tatum and Jude, cause I can’t let Jack be an only child and I have to have an even number of kids, plus it would be interesting to see the dynamic of two boys and one girl. But let me not get carried away. I thank Him for answering my prayers. So for now, au revoir, Jack.
I had gone back and forth about Jack. Did I really want another baby, newborn to be specific, because I felt our family wasn’t complete or because I just wanted to buy cute little baby clothes? Did I want Jack waking me up every four hours to eat because our family wasn’t complete or because the baby is during into someone who can think thoughts and practically text message vote for her favorite on American Idol? I guess it came down to was this my will and desire or was it God’s? Were we on the same page like we had been three times before? So me being my wonderful, gracious self, I said and prayed, God, I’m content either way.
Of course, this meant I was looking for signs everywhere. When I saw a baby, I wondered do I feel a longing for that to me, as I remind Jory and Rowan to hold hands as we walked through the parking lot. As I watched the one-year-old toddle by me, I thought that could be me in a year or a year-and-a-half, as I realized my baby was no longer playing on the slide with her sister.
With Jack, I would be in the moment, I told myself. I would record when he first sat up, first rolled over, got his first tooth, said his first word, crawled for the first time, signed his first sign, grew his first tooth, and first felt that spoon on his tongue covered with “food”, how that horrible tasting stuff even has food in its title is beyond me. Jory, Rowan, and Layla could see, interact, and watch a baby grow before their own eyes. They could see the adoption process play out so they’ll know
what to expect in twenty-five years. Jory could have another one like him, as he informed me, in the house.
But then there was another part of me that said, uh, yeah maybe on the TTT’s blog which would have to change to some adjective that starts with a “Q”, then the word quad, would I write down when Jack had his milestones, but not while I’m at home with three other people calling out for “Mommy” and I’m homeschooling. I think the time to appreciate every precious moment was with Jory when there was nothing else to distract me and all those moments didn’t get written down then.
At the NACAC conference, I started overhearing things about the system, about DCF that put me on alert. I talked to some parents, one whom recently adopted from the system, to feel them out. I was left with an uneasy feeling, then someone recommended I talk to someone I trusted. Jory’s SW, I trusted her. I knew she would steer me in the right direction. I called once and left a message and then I heard nothing for days. I tried again on Friday and she said, “No.” She said this was the worse she had seen the system in the forty years she had been a SW. Six, nearly, gulp, seven years ago, God used this woman to tell me, yes, adopt this newborn whom you’ll call Jory. And now He used her to say, no, it’s not time for Jack.
What a relief to know the answer. Well maybe relief isn’t the right word, it’s just a blessing to know God answered my prayer and now I can put all my attention to finding the exact right daycare for Mr. Jory. I don’t know if God’s answer is no to Jack forever or if it’s no for right now, though He knows if the answer is no for a while then Jack will have to be joined by Tatum and Jude, cause I can’t let Jack be an only child and I have to have an even number of kids, plus it would be interesting to see the dynamic of two boys and one girl. But let me not get carried away. I thank Him for answering my prayers. So for now, au revoir, Jack.
Sunday at church
The kids were running down the corridor towards the picnic tables to eat lunch after church and I fell in love with the scene in front of me. Three beautiful, intelligent, healthy, happy children running with glee. If I had had my camera I should have taken a picture. When was the last time I ran with such freeness. My three made a beautiful picture, the only thing that marred their picture was the fact they weren’t dressed alike or at least wearing the same color. But that was a choice I made that morning to not search out the same colored dress for Layla.
And I should have recorded Jory when I reminded him that he can not push his truck or run on the side of the gym where I can’t see him.
“But I was following the baby, Mommy,” he said to me.
Are you kidding me? Your excuse is that you were following a three-year-old?!? A three-year-old?!?! Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Is it their job to drive me insane?
I love that the church is so giving, we go to. That while we’re eating lunch, we all share what we have, but it has turned my children into little gluttons, little savages. They act like they’ve never eaten food before, seen food before, like they haven’t just eaten lunch. I guess on the upside, they like fruits and veggies as much as they like desserts.
And I should have recorded Jory when I reminded him that he can not push his truck or run on the side of the gym where I can’t see him.
“But I was following the baby, Mommy,” he said to me.
Are you kidding me? Your excuse is that you were following a three-year-old?!? A three-year-old?!?! Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Is it their job to drive me insane?
I love that the church is so giving, we go to. That while we’re eating lunch, we all share what we have, but it has turned my children into little gluttons, little savages. They act like they’ve never eaten food before, seen food before, like they haven’t just eaten lunch. I guess on the upside, they like fruits and veggies as much as they like desserts.
Parties and awkwardness
Being the great friend I am, I drove to the other side of the world to go to my friend’s son, Teddy’s second birthday party. I was a little suspicious of a party being at Chili’s, but my suspicion was unfounded. It wasn’t your typical birthday party, but it didn’t matter Teddy was only turning two and everyone, including, him looked like they were having a good time.
But once again I thought, I really hate going places where the only people I know is the birthday family and in the case, I only really knew birthday mom. I just always feel awkward, uncomfortable, and try to avoid eye contact by being super involved in what the kids are doing. They are my saving grace. Yeah, I would like to chat you up with that awkward getting to know you banter, or I could just be super attentive to TTT. I’ll go with the former for a thousand.
But once again I thought, I really hate going places where the only people I know is the birthday family and in the case, I only really knew birthday mom. I just always feel awkward, uncomfortable, and try to avoid eye contact by being super involved in what the kids are doing. They are my saving grace. Yeah, I would like to chat you up with that awkward getting to know you banter, or I could just be super attentive to TTT. I’ll go with the former for a thousand.
Change. Change. Change?
Possible change. I went to an AWANA meeting and it sounds like a change is a-comin’. Maybe moving AWANA from the wonderful and glorious Friday nights to Sunday nights. Uh, yeah, do any of these pastors have kids that go to school? Do they have friends whose kids have bedtimes or have regular 9 to 5 jobs? There’s a reason Sunday is family night in the land of television. Because everyone can lounge around watching TV, freshly bathed, in their pjs, and as soon as the family show goes off, everyone can be tucked in.
But maybe this change won’t happen. I know everyone is in prayer about it. I like going to AWANA at my old junior/senior high school. I love seeing the kids play in the gym I use to play it. The five years, I played volleyball there. To see the dolphin, one of the older graduating classes, raised money for to be in the floor of the gym. West L-A-B, oooohhhhh yeah!
I was always the type when I was tempting to take long term assignments, I like things when I know where I’m going every day, when I know what my exact job is, and what is expected of me. I am a creature of habit.
I would hate to leave WLAB, but since God is always working I know of another AWANA program that might even be closer to our house and where there is fellowship for the parents during. Who knows what September holds for us, but I know God’s got our backs.
But maybe this change won’t happen. I know everyone is in prayer about it. I like going to AWANA at my old junior/senior high school. I love seeing the kids play in the gym I use to play it. The five years, I played volleyball there. To see the dolphin, one of the older graduating classes, raised money for to be in the floor of the gym. West L-A-B, oooohhhhh yeah!
I was always the type when I was tempting to take long term assignments, I like things when I know where I’m going every day, when I know what my exact job is, and what is expected of me. I am a creature of habit.
I would hate to leave WLAB, but since God is always working I know of another AWANA program that might even be closer to our house and where there is fellowship for the parents during. Who knows what September holds for us, but I know God’s got our backs.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Pictures that bring questions
“Mommy, are you married?” Rowan asked.
Okay, where did that question come from? “Yes, I was married, but now- -“ I began.
“You are married, Mommy, look,” the baby said, pointing to a picture on the mantle of Oma and I on my wedding day.
What could I say then?
“Mommy, I didn’t think that was you in the picture,” Rowan added.
And scene. Then it was back to the television show they were watching.
One picture, that I don’t even see anymore, it’s been on the mantle so long, seen from two different perspectives. The baby knows I’m married, duh, cause I have a wedding dress on. And Rowan created a backstory of that’s not mommy in the picture because there’s no husband/daddy around.
My growing Irish twins….
Okay, where did that question come from? “Yes, I was married, but now- -“ I began.
“You are married, Mommy, look,” the baby said, pointing to a picture on the mantle of Oma and I on my wedding day.
What could I say then?
“Mommy, I didn’t think that was you in the picture,” Rowan added.
And scene. Then it was back to the television show they were watching.
One picture, that I don’t even see anymore, it’s been on the mantle so long, seen from two different perspectives. The baby knows I’m married, duh, cause I have a wedding dress on. And Rowan created a backstory of that’s not mommy in the picture because there’s no husband/daddy around.
My growing Irish twins….
Why do kids smoke crack?
One kid bathed now on to number two, I thought as I sauntered into the bathroom just as Jory was settling down in the bathtub. He was squatting when I heard a noise.
“Jory, are you peeing in the tub?”
“Yes,” he mumbled.
ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! “You peed in the tub?”
“Yes,” he repeated softly.
You peed in the tub when you were 3 feet from the toilet. When you took off your clothes, piece by piece, in the bathroom, right next to the toilet? Really?!? Really?!?! Are you smoking crack for a living?
“Did you think you were in the shower? Are you suppose to pee in the tub?”
“No.”
“Where you going to bathe in the tub after you peed in it?”
“No.”
“Let the water out and don’t you ever do this again. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
He drained the tub and I started filling it back in. “Start bathing now.” Why should he get into the full bath experience when he’s peeing in the tub?
“Jory, are you peeing in the tub?”
“Yes,” he mumbled.
ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! “You peed in the tub?”
“Yes,” he repeated softly.
You peed in the tub when you were 3 feet from the toilet. When you took off your clothes, piece by piece, in the bathroom, right next to the toilet? Really?!? Really?!?! Are you smoking crack for a living?
“Did you think you were in the shower? Are you suppose to pee in the tub?”
“No.”
“Where you going to bathe in the tub after you peed in it?”
“No.”
“Let the water out and don’t you ever do this again. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
He drained the tub and I started filling it back in. “Start bathing now.” Why should he get into the full bath experience when he’s peeing in the tub?
Babies don't do that
“Turn the light off, Mommy,” the baby whined as she covered her eyes with her hand and rolled away from the light.
What?!? There’s my baby almost drowning in the 3T pjs, I’ve just taken out the 24 month pants for her to wear this fall and - - she’s my baby. My tiny, little, barely wearing 24-month size clothing baby. She can’t be saying things like “turn the light off.” That’s what big kids say. Rolling over to get away from the light, is what big kids do, not my baby. Not my tiny, precious little baby.
What?!? There’s my baby almost drowning in the 3T pjs, I’ve just taken out the 24 month pants for her to wear this fall and - - she’s my baby. My tiny, little, barely wearing 24-month size clothing baby. She can’t be saying things like “turn the light off.” That’s what big kids say. Rolling over to get away from the light, is what big kids do, not my baby. Not my tiny, precious little baby.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Four years...
Four years ago today, Sasha, Jory, and I were lazing around the house when the phone rang. It was Sasha’s racist CW who was calling to say, I needed to bring Sasha to the DCF office, I had picked her up from eight months earlier, and hand her over to her new parents. Tears started to fall, I was nervous, scared. What if I hadn’t picked up the phone? What if Jory, Sasha, and I were gone would we still be doing this now? What if I packed up and took off to some other state? How hard would DCF look for me? I knew someone who knew someone who could get me birth certificates and social security numbers.
I called my SW because I wasn’t doing anything without her, but she wasn’t answering. A journalist professor at SMC I had one summer said he use to interview a politician, who was so slimy and backhanded, that he would count to make sure he still had five fingers after they shook hands. That summed up the way I felt about Sasha’s CW.
I sucked it up and called Mell, she and I had liked each other in our previous meetings. She was actually the first woman on this adoption journey that I really clicked with. I felt like she really got me. We were two women, the same age, whose road to parenthood was completely different than how we imagined it would be. She was at the store shopping for a carseat so they could put in their car that they left at the airport in Denver. She wasn’t expecting to take the baby home so soon. Graciously, she refused my offer to take Sasha’s clothes. She told me to keep them for my next little girl, which she knew I would get any day. We said goodbye and I went to packing. My baby had to take a few things with her. Her favorite pjs, some things to kick about in until Mell and her husband, Johnny, could get to the store. She had to take the dress she wore to Aunt Heather’s and Uncle Brandon’s wedding, so she would at least have one item to wear to church. I packed some bottles, some formula, and diapers. I was in such a state of confusion, it never occurred to me to find a backpack or something to put them in. I just used shopping bags and made sure since Mell was traveling with a hubby with a broken shoulder bone to give her the Baby Bjorn, too.
In the midst of all of this, I kept calling my SW but to no avail, so I finally called my adoption agency and told them the situation and that I needed her ASAP. A few minutes later she called. She had had her cell phone off and was working from home. She gave me the time we were suppose to meet at the DCF office. This was really happening.
I got Jory and myself dress as time wound down. But for my Chew Chew, I knew I had to find something nice. I chose the after church outfit her Oma had bought her to wear for Mother’s Day. You know cause you need a new outfit to change into after you take off your new Mother’s Day dress that you wore to church. And I put her on a bib that read “I love my Mommy” because she loved me and one day she would love Mell.
I put everyone in their carseats and off we went. Nearly eight months before, I had taken that ride to pick her up and meet her for the first time, the baby who would be my forever daughter. I remember my friend, Steph, calling as I was driving and me saying, let me call you back I’m on the way to pick up my early Christmas present, my daughter. Now here we were making the trip again and I was losing my daughter.
Arriving at the DCF office, I walked inside with a baby on each hip and I was sent to sit away from the general public. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by Sasha’s birth family who were Mexican. My brown haired, blue eyed daughter was being taken from me because she looked white, yet the people sitting next to me testified to the fact that while she might have appeared to be one thing, she wasn’t completely. I wondered where Mell and Johnny were. Mell’s mother introduced herself and thanked me for taking care of the baby until Mell and Johnny could get her and that she would say a prayer for me and for all I had done. I wanted to rage against her, but instead I cried. I was trying to be strong, but it was hard.
I wasn’t Sasha’s babysitter. I wasn’t Chew Chew’s foster parent keeping her until an adoptive family could be found. I was her Mommy. I thought she was the greatest thing since chocolate cake (which is my favorite dessert in the world, not really a pie fan). I had worried that I wouldn’t love baby number two as much as I loved Jory because let me tell you that little boy sat the bar high from day one or rather day five. But Sasha met that bar like it was nothing. She was my most wonderful baby girl, just like Jory was my most wonderful baby boy. Yet here was this woman thanking me for babysitting as my heart was breaking. I hugged her back and wiped my tears. Then I saw Mell and Johnny and my SW, my wonderful SW.
Standing up, Mell and I embraced and she whispered, “I’m sorry.” I lost it. How could she say that to me? Why did she have to say that to me? When I got the call about Jory, it was a joyous occasion. When I got the call about Sasha, it was joyous on my end, picking her up was a little awkward, but it was happy for the most part. Now here we all were in this crummy DCF office with a CW none of us liked or trusted and Mell was apologizing on what should have been the happiest day of her life. I pointed out the bib to her and I think we smiled.
I signed the needed paperwork with Sasha in my arms and Jory beside me. Then it was over, we all walked outside, except for the CW I think she got the hint she was neither needed nor wanted though I’m pretty sure she didn’t care. I handed Sasha over. I’m sure I kissed her face and told her I loved her. And I’m sure I let Jory do the same. I have to say I was secretly thrilled that my Chew Chew started screaming her head off in Mell’s arms. My baby wanted the world to know I was her Mommy and she wanted her Mommy and her Mommy only to hold her. We took some pics because I knew that one day Mell and Johnny would want pictures of their Gotcha Day. Then they took some pics of us. The instant Chew Chew was in my arms, she stopped crying. That’s Mommy’s baby. The picture of her, Jory, and myself sits on my nightstand in the frame that holds the first professional picture, a two days shy of being one Jory and I took on my first birthday as a Mommy. Me and my first two babies.
Fastforward to Denver a few days ago, on the way to the airport Mell said to me, something about wondering if she did the right thing with her having a job that sends her all over the US for sometimes weeks at a time. And for the first time, my first thought wasn’t “they stole my baby,” which is usually the thought that goes through my mind when someone asks about Sasha and what happened to her. The “they” isn’t Mell and Johnny though, it’s the CW and the system that didn't put Sasha first. This time my first thought was, but I wouldn’t have Rowan if you didn’t get Sasha. Though I have had my fantasies were both girls were my daughters. Me with two sets of Irish twins. I think I would have died of happiness. Though poor Rowan would be even more of a middle child. From January 21 to February 25, she would be the oldest twin out of her and Layla. And from February 26 to December 12, she would be the youngest of the twins between her and Sasha. And let’s be honest, Sasha, Rowan, and Layla are not triplet names nor are they twin names. Though all three names are five letters long and have at least one “a” in them, all of which was a total coincidence. See how God has your back on the minute details.
But I digress. It was great seeing the now four-year-old Sasha. It was fun picking her up, tickling her. It was great to hang out with Mell and Johnny. It was awesome to see her daddy so in love with her and content if they never had another child, though Mell and I both are pushing for her to have a sibling. When Mell was explaining how if she doesn’t stick to the schedule Sasha has a meltdown, I thought wow she wouldn’t last long in my house then. I try to stick to a schedule, but- - then I remembered she might not be that schedule sticking girl if she had remained with me. I use to come home from work and she’d be napping. I would eat dinner with Jory, get him ready for bed, and put him down. Then she would wake up, we’d take a shower together and hang out for a while. She was my Chew Chew.
In some ways, I guess I’m similar to the parent who doesn’t see their child often because of distance or the parent who doesn’t have primary custody. We look at that child and wonder who she would be if we were the ones rearing her. Who would Sasha be if she had been Sasha Herrington for all of her life? I’m not sure. And I don’t dwell on it. I have to remember and be thankful that for nearly eight months she was Sasha Herrington, daughter of Yashama, sister to Jory. I’m thankful that I’m still apart of her life that I’m not wondering how she is and where she is. I’m thankful she is part of a relative adoption, where her parents/relatives get it and make her their sole priority. I pray she and her awesome parents will always be apart of my life. And if it wasn’t so creepy, I would have loved for her to be my daughter through marriage, so we could be connected forever. But yuck! You can’t marry anyone who held you in their arms while wearing a “Big Brother” lime green t-shirt and you had on the matching “Little Sister” t-shirt. Creepy to the nth degree. Oh let's call it what it would be incest.
Four years have past and I still love her endlessly. Forever she will be my Chew Chew, my Sasha.
You'll always be a part of me
And I'm part of you indefinitely
You'll always be my baby
And we'll linger on
Cause time can't erase a feeling this strong
You will always be my baby
I called my SW because I wasn’t doing anything without her, but she wasn’t answering. A journalist professor at SMC I had one summer said he use to interview a politician, who was so slimy and backhanded, that he would count to make sure he still had five fingers after they shook hands. That summed up the way I felt about Sasha’s CW.
I sucked it up and called Mell, she and I had liked each other in our previous meetings. She was actually the first woman on this adoption journey that I really clicked with. I felt like she really got me. We were two women, the same age, whose road to parenthood was completely different than how we imagined it would be. She was at the store shopping for a carseat so they could put in their car that they left at the airport in Denver. She wasn’t expecting to take the baby home so soon. Graciously, she refused my offer to take Sasha’s clothes. She told me to keep them for my next little girl, which she knew I would get any day. We said goodbye and I went to packing. My baby had to take a few things with her. Her favorite pjs, some things to kick about in until Mell and her husband, Johnny, could get to the store. She had to take the dress she wore to Aunt Heather’s and Uncle Brandon’s wedding, so she would at least have one item to wear to church. I packed some bottles, some formula, and diapers. I was in such a state of confusion, it never occurred to me to find a backpack or something to put them in. I just used shopping bags and made sure since Mell was traveling with a hubby with a broken shoulder bone to give her the Baby Bjorn, too.
In the midst of all of this, I kept calling my SW but to no avail, so I finally called my adoption agency and told them the situation and that I needed her ASAP. A few minutes later she called. She had had her cell phone off and was working from home. She gave me the time we were suppose to meet at the DCF office. This was really happening.
I got Jory and myself dress as time wound down. But for my Chew Chew, I knew I had to find something nice. I chose the after church outfit her Oma had bought her to wear for Mother’s Day. You know cause you need a new outfit to change into after you take off your new Mother’s Day dress that you wore to church. And I put her on a bib that read “I love my Mommy” because she loved me and one day she would love Mell.
I put everyone in their carseats and off we went. Nearly eight months before, I had taken that ride to pick her up and meet her for the first time, the baby who would be my forever daughter. I remember my friend, Steph, calling as I was driving and me saying, let me call you back I’m on the way to pick up my early Christmas present, my daughter. Now here we were making the trip again and I was losing my daughter.
Arriving at the DCF office, I walked inside with a baby on each hip and I was sent to sit away from the general public. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by Sasha’s birth family who were Mexican. My brown haired, blue eyed daughter was being taken from me because she looked white, yet the people sitting next to me testified to the fact that while she might have appeared to be one thing, she wasn’t completely. I wondered where Mell and Johnny were. Mell’s mother introduced herself and thanked me for taking care of the baby until Mell and Johnny could get her and that she would say a prayer for me and for all I had done. I wanted to rage against her, but instead I cried. I was trying to be strong, but it was hard.
I wasn’t Sasha’s babysitter. I wasn’t Chew Chew’s foster parent keeping her until an adoptive family could be found. I was her Mommy. I thought she was the greatest thing since chocolate cake (which is my favorite dessert in the world, not really a pie fan). I had worried that I wouldn’t love baby number two as much as I loved Jory because let me tell you that little boy sat the bar high from day one or rather day five. But Sasha met that bar like it was nothing. She was my most wonderful baby girl, just like Jory was my most wonderful baby boy. Yet here was this woman thanking me for babysitting as my heart was breaking. I hugged her back and wiped my tears. Then I saw Mell and Johnny and my SW, my wonderful SW.
Standing up, Mell and I embraced and she whispered, “I’m sorry.” I lost it. How could she say that to me? Why did she have to say that to me? When I got the call about Jory, it was a joyous occasion. When I got the call about Sasha, it was joyous on my end, picking her up was a little awkward, but it was happy for the most part. Now here we all were in this crummy DCF office with a CW none of us liked or trusted and Mell was apologizing on what should have been the happiest day of her life. I pointed out the bib to her and I think we smiled.
I signed the needed paperwork with Sasha in my arms and Jory beside me. Then it was over, we all walked outside, except for the CW I think she got the hint she was neither needed nor wanted though I’m pretty sure she didn’t care. I handed Sasha over. I’m sure I kissed her face and told her I loved her. And I’m sure I let Jory do the same. I have to say I was secretly thrilled that my Chew Chew started screaming her head off in Mell’s arms. My baby wanted the world to know I was her Mommy and she wanted her Mommy and her Mommy only to hold her. We took some pics because I knew that one day Mell and Johnny would want pictures of their Gotcha Day. Then they took some pics of us. The instant Chew Chew was in my arms, she stopped crying. That’s Mommy’s baby. The picture of her, Jory, and myself sits on my nightstand in the frame that holds the first professional picture, a two days shy of being one Jory and I took on my first birthday as a Mommy. Me and my first two babies.
Fastforward to Denver a few days ago, on the way to the airport Mell said to me, something about wondering if she did the right thing with her having a job that sends her all over the US for sometimes weeks at a time. And for the first time, my first thought wasn’t “they stole my baby,” which is usually the thought that goes through my mind when someone asks about Sasha and what happened to her. The “they” isn’t Mell and Johnny though, it’s the CW and the system that didn't put Sasha first. This time my first thought was, but I wouldn’t have Rowan if you didn’t get Sasha. Though I have had my fantasies were both girls were my daughters. Me with two sets of Irish twins. I think I would have died of happiness. Though poor Rowan would be even more of a middle child. From January 21 to February 25, she would be the oldest twin out of her and Layla. And from February 26 to December 12, she would be the youngest of the twins between her and Sasha. And let’s be honest, Sasha, Rowan, and Layla are not triplet names nor are they twin names. Though all three names are five letters long and have at least one “a” in them, all of which was a total coincidence. See how God has your back on the minute details.
But I digress. It was great seeing the now four-year-old Sasha. It was fun picking her up, tickling her. It was great to hang out with Mell and Johnny. It was awesome to see her daddy so in love with her and content if they never had another child, though Mell and I both are pushing for her to have a sibling. When Mell was explaining how if she doesn’t stick to the schedule Sasha has a meltdown, I thought wow she wouldn’t last long in my house then. I try to stick to a schedule, but- - then I remembered she might not be that schedule sticking girl if she had remained with me. I use to come home from work and she’d be napping. I would eat dinner with Jory, get him ready for bed, and put him down. Then she would wake up, we’d take a shower together and hang out for a while. She was my Chew Chew.
In some ways, I guess I’m similar to the parent who doesn’t see their child often because of distance or the parent who doesn’t have primary custody. We look at that child and wonder who she would be if we were the ones rearing her. Who would Sasha be if she had been Sasha Herrington for all of her life? I’m not sure. And I don’t dwell on it. I have to remember and be thankful that for nearly eight months she was Sasha Herrington, daughter of Yashama, sister to Jory. I’m thankful that I’m still apart of her life that I’m not wondering how she is and where she is. I’m thankful she is part of a relative adoption, where her parents/relatives get it and make her their sole priority. I pray she and her awesome parents will always be apart of my life. And if it wasn’t so creepy, I would have loved for her to be my daughter through marriage, so we could be connected forever. But yuck! You can’t marry anyone who held you in their arms while wearing a “Big Brother” lime green t-shirt and you had on the matching “Little Sister” t-shirt. Creepy to the nth degree. Oh let's call it what it would be incest.
Four years have past and I still love her endlessly. Forever she will be my Chew Chew, my Sasha.
You'll always be a part of me
And I'm part of you indefinitely
You'll always be my baby
And we'll linger on
Cause time can't erase a feeling this strong
You will always be my baby
Monday, August 8, 2011
Crazy Sunday
“Mommy, I’ll clean that up tomorrow,” the baby informed me in the midst of picking up the barrettes and ribbons off the floor and into their container.
Excuse me? You’re going to do what? When? Excuse me, who do you think you’re talking to? “Layla, you spilled the barrettes all over the floor and you have to clean them up now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I walked out of the room and come back a few minutes later to find her throwing barrettes all over the floor. “Layla, clean this mess up now.”
The crying began. And it continued and continued until Oma stepped in to see how she could help the crying baby, who also had to clean up the crayon marks she made on the floor.
The crying continued and continued and it was evident there was a sleepy baby on our hands. Yes, she was sleepy but her mother wasn’t letting her get out of cleaning up her mess first.
Finally she cleaned up and went directly to the bathe, while she continued to sob. Sobbing through getting dressed for bed, for her diaper being put on, just sobbing. I get her bed together and lay her down. And bam! She gets a second wind. Are you kidding me?!?!
Then the others started to whine and cry. There should have been a naptime today. The other two take a bathe and then I put them to bed, except they are keeping each other up. Why won’t they just go to sleep?! Why?!
Sleeping together is an idea that’s just not going to work. Jory is cast off to my room, Rowan to his, and the baby to the dining room which has become the family room. I walked away to help Oma, and when I came back the sleepy baby was still awake, watching TV. Sleep, it’s your friend, little girl. Why don’t you believe me? Okay, it’s time to cave or bring out the big guns depending on which way you look at it. I picked her up and faced her away from the TV, and rocked her back and forth, back and forth. She climbed out of my arms, laid her head on her lap as I continued to rock her. And then I looked down and she was sleep. The crying, whining baby had gone to sleep. Finally.
I could take a bath. Just as I was getting out, I hear, “Yash, my stomach hurts.”
“Excuse me?!” Does sleepiness cause you to lose your mind?
I must have said “excuse me” in the right tone because the next thing I heard.
“Mommy, my stomach hurts,” Jory said.
Ah, that’s better. “Go lay down, Mommy, will be there in a minute.”
I heard his feet moving him back to the bed.
What a crazy Sunday.
Excuse me? You’re going to do what? When? Excuse me, who do you think you’re talking to? “Layla, you spilled the barrettes all over the floor and you have to clean them up now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I walked out of the room and come back a few minutes later to find her throwing barrettes all over the floor. “Layla, clean this mess up now.”
The crying began. And it continued and continued until Oma stepped in to see how she could help the crying baby, who also had to clean up the crayon marks she made on the floor.
The crying continued and continued and it was evident there was a sleepy baby on our hands. Yes, she was sleepy but her mother wasn’t letting her get out of cleaning up her mess first.
Finally she cleaned up and went directly to the bathe, while she continued to sob. Sobbing through getting dressed for bed, for her diaper being put on, just sobbing. I get her bed together and lay her down. And bam! She gets a second wind. Are you kidding me?!?!
Then the others started to whine and cry. There should have been a naptime today. The other two take a bathe and then I put them to bed, except they are keeping each other up. Why won’t they just go to sleep?! Why?!
Sleeping together is an idea that’s just not going to work. Jory is cast off to my room, Rowan to his, and the baby to the dining room which has become the family room. I walked away to help Oma, and when I came back the sleepy baby was still awake, watching TV. Sleep, it’s your friend, little girl. Why don’t you believe me? Okay, it’s time to cave or bring out the big guns depending on which way you look at it. I picked her up and faced her away from the TV, and rocked her back and forth, back and forth. She climbed out of my arms, laid her head on her lap as I continued to rock her. And then I looked down and she was sleep. The crying, whining baby had gone to sleep. Finally.
I could take a bath. Just as I was getting out, I hear, “Yash, my stomach hurts.”
“Excuse me?!” Does sleepiness cause you to lose your mind?
I must have said “excuse me” in the right tone because the next thing I heard.
“Mommy, my stomach hurts,” Jory said.
Ah, that’s better. “Go lay down, Mommy, will be there in a minute.”
I heard his feet moving him back to the bed.
What a crazy Sunday.
Ain't nothing like the real thing...
There’s nothing like seeing the car pull up in the driveway containing your three children and they jump out and attack you, telling you how much they missed you, how happy they are to see you, and how much they love you. And you tell them the same thing as you give out hugs and kisses.
Remember, remember
It’s a good thing I went to conferences and was immersed in the world of trauma and looking beyond the behavior to identify the real problem, the real issue because I might have lost it when I was informed Rowan slapped her classmate because her classmate took the doll she was playing with. Mommy’s not here so I’m acting out. Things in my world are out of control and I can’t stop it or do anything about it.
Remember. Remember. So we had a discussion about why we can’t hit people or hurt people just because are very unhappy that mommy is gone for a little while. We can’t take out our frustrations and disappointments on other people. If I hadn’t been at the conference this situation would have been handled completely differently, but then again if I had been home it probably never would have occurred.
Remember. Remember. So we had a discussion about why we can’t hit people or hurt people just because are very unhappy that mommy is gone for a little while. We can’t take out our frustrations and disappointments on other people. If I hadn’t been at the conference this situation would have been handled completely differently, but then again if I had been home it probably never would have occurred.
Locks, locks, locks
UGH! Why did we put locks on the bathroom doors? Why did we put old fashioned ones that you can’t slip a credit card in between the lock and the door jam to open? Oh wait, there is no we, there is only Oma. Oma and her love of things that makes life difficult when you’re rearing three kids under the age of six.
Yes, Oma, you’re right they won’t be little kids forever, but they are right now. So for right now no locks or simple to unlock locks would be great. Not the kind of locks that take a special key that has to be kept hidden in a place that only you know. Not helpful.
I get that baby was trying to be helpful and locking the door when she’s in the bathroom, though we were the only two at home, but it’s when she forgets to unlock it before she leaves the bathroom and closes the door behind her.
I guess this is the upside of construction is there are other bathrooms in the house now and toiletries throughout the house since we’re leaving in boxes, sort of. But oh how I wish the lock situation would change.
Yes, Oma, you’re right they won’t be little kids forever, but they are right now. So for right now no locks or simple to unlock locks would be great. Not the kind of locks that take a special key that has to be kept hidden in a place that only you know. Not helpful.
I get that baby was trying to be helpful and locking the door when she’s in the bathroom, though we were the only two at home, but it’s when she forgets to unlock it before she leaves the bathroom and closes the door behind her.
I guess this is the upside of construction is there are other bathrooms in the house now and toiletries throughout the house since we’re leaving in boxes, sort of. But oh how I wish the lock situation would change.
God is doing a brand nu thang
My God is doing a brand nu thang
But since time began, He remains the same
Faithful, forever to His Word
Solid, a cornerstone unstirred
Two weeks ago today, I received Jory’s Math-U-See curriculum. At first, I couldn’t think of anything that I had ordered that would be coming to me, then it dawned on me what it was. It hit me when I placed the order at CHEA that I was homeschooling, but to hold the box in my hand that contained curriculum that I would be teaching to my baby boy was taking it to the next level.
And now I’m getting a money order so I can purchase his Sonlight curriculum from a woman who privately emailed me saying she had what I was looking for for a reasonable price including shipping. It was actually more than what I needed or wanted, but it was a great deal. So soon I will hold in my hands his reading and writing curriculum, with some history and science thrown in as a bonus.
God is so faithful, yet I wondered how I was going to pay for everything. I looked at the bills that laid before me: school enrollment, membership fees for CHEA (Christian Home Educators Association of California) and HSLDA (Home School Legal Defense Association). Where was this money coming from? But as always God provides, I was told I could apply for a discount for my HSLDA membership fee. Last night, I received in the mail my CHEA membership card. I didn’t understand that when I paid to my entrance fee to get into the CHEA convention, I also was paying for a year’s membership. And even when it came to the CHEA convention, a few days before I was set to go I received an email that said the first fifty people to email CHEA back would get a discount on their CHEA ticket and I, by the grace of God, was one of those people. The school that I want to enroll Jory into gave me a discounted price without me even asking.
Earlier this summer, I went to a bbq and met a woman, who was recommended by a friend, who was interested in babysitting Jory for the school year. This woman was on fire for God and her children were well-mannered and friendly. But being a resident of the greatest city in the world, it would take me a half hour each way to get to her house from my job, which was only five miles away. How could I do this every morning, particularly with dropping the girls off at school first? Even though I really liked her, I busted my brain trying to figure out I could make this work but nothing was coming to me. I searched for other people, but others were either too far or out of my price range or weren’t Christians. And then SCORE! It came to me I had a friend who lived blocks away from my job who might be willing to drop Jory off at his babysitter’s house for a minimum fee. God is always working.
I am stepping out on complete faith with this homeschooling thing and every step of the way He is providing. So it seems like our adventure is about to begin. Jory and I, with God as our merciful leader, will soon start this rollercoaster called school - - homeschool. Pray for us.
But since time began, He remains the same
Faithful, forever to His Word
Solid, a cornerstone unstirred
Two weeks ago today, I received Jory’s Math-U-See curriculum. At first, I couldn’t think of anything that I had ordered that would be coming to me, then it dawned on me what it was. It hit me when I placed the order at CHEA that I was homeschooling, but to hold the box in my hand that contained curriculum that I would be teaching to my baby boy was taking it to the next level.
And now I’m getting a money order so I can purchase his Sonlight curriculum from a woman who privately emailed me saying she had what I was looking for for a reasonable price including shipping. It was actually more than what I needed or wanted, but it was a great deal. So soon I will hold in my hands his reading and writing curriculum, with some history and science thrown in as a bonus.
God is so faithful, yet I wondered how I was going to pay for everything. I looked at the bills that laid before me: school enrollment, membership fees for CHEA (Christian Home Educators Association of California) and HSLDA (Home School Legal Defense Association). Where was this money coming from? But as always God provides, I was told I could apply for a discount for my HSLDA membership fee. Last night, I received in the mail my CHEA membership card. I didn’t understand that when I paid to my entrance fee to get into the CHEA convention, I also was paying for a year’s membership. And even when it came to the CHEA convention, a few days before I was set to go I received an email that said the first fifty people to email CHEA back would get a discount on their CHEA ticket and I, by the grace of God, was one of those people. The school that I want to enroll Jory into gave me a discounted price without me even asking.
Earlier this summer, I went to a bbq and met a woman, who was recommended by a friend, who was interested in babysitting Jory for the school year. This woman was on fire for God and her children were well-mannered and friendly. But being a resident of the greatest city in the world, it would take me a half hour each way to get to her house from my job, which was only five miles away. How could I do this every morning, particularly with dropping the girls off at school first? Even though I really liked her, I busted my brain trying to figure out I could make this work but nothing was coming to me. I searched for other people, but others were either too far or out of my price range or weren’t Christians. And then SCORE! It came to me I had a friend who lived blocks away from my job who might be willing to drop Jory off at his babysitter’s house for a minimum fee. God is always working.
I am stepping out on complete faith with this homeschooling thing and every step of the way He is providing. So it seems like our adventure is about to begin. Jory and I, with God as our merciful leader, will soon start this rollercoaster called school - - homeschool. Pray for us.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Fun mornings
God laid it on my heart to show mercy as He shows me mercy so the kids got a reprieve and got to go swimming at school and by swimming I mean play in the water.
They were excited to hear that news since they hadn't so far been able to do that yet at school. So I took it another step forward and told them if they got dressed without me having to remind them to do stuff and in the allotted time they could have a treat. They did it and so I played Jory's seemingly new favorite song, Drift Away. He sang along to Give me the beat boy. I played the Uncle Kracker version. What happened to Uncle Kracker?
After that song played to a rousing crowd, I checked out what was going on on Perez and got a treat of my own. There was a clip of the New Kids on the Block/Backstreet Boys tour in Boston. Now normally I wouldn't have given that a second look, but then they brought out BBD. SCORE! The men dressed alike per usual, more groups need to bring that back, sang parts of Do Me and Poison. The guys who taught me to never trust a big butt and a smile.
I was bouncing around, singing along.
"Mommy, why are you so happy?" Jory asked. "Is it because we got ready on time?"
"Mommy, are you happy because that's your favorite song?" Rowan asked.
"Yes, Mommy is happy that you got ready on time and yes, Mommy really likes this song."
When you hear those opening notes and "Poison/PPPPpoison" you can't help but smile and move.
And to end the note on a great note, we were able to sing correctly all four verses of Amazing Grace in the car before we parked at school.
Some mornings just ROCK!
They were excited to hear that news since they hadn't so far been able to do that yet at school. So I took it another step forward and told them if they got dressed without me having to remind them to do stuff and in the allotted time they could have a treat. They did it and so I played Jory's seemingly new favorite song, Drift Away. He sang along to Give me the beat boy. I played the Uncle Kracker version. What happened to Uncle Kracker?
After that song played to a rousing crowd, I checked out what was going on on Perez and got a treat of my own. There was a clip of the New Kids on the Block/Backstreet Boys tour in Boston. Now normally I wouldn't have given that a second look, but then they brought out BBD. SCORE! The men dressed alike per usual, more groups need to bring that back, sang parts of Do Me and Poison. The guys who taught me to never trust a big butt and a smile.
I was bouncing around, singing along.
"Mommy, why are you so happy?" Jory asked. "Is it because we got ready on time?"
"Mommy, are you happy because that's your favorite song?" Rowan asked.
"Yes, Mommy is happy that you got ready on time and yes, Mommy really likes this song."
When you hear those opening notes and "Poison/PPPPpoison" you can't help but smile and move.
And to end the note on a great note, we were able to sing correctly all four verses of Amazing Grace in the car before we parked at school.
Some mornings just ROCK!
Monday, August 1, 2011
Blogging by Steph
I write really fabulous blogs in my head...usually while driving down the road. Then I get home and don't have time to bring them to the rest of the world.
My friend, Steph, is a genius and sums out the problem with blogging for the woman with children beautifully.
My friend, Steph, is a genius and sums out the problem with blogging for the woman with children beautifully.
Wandering minds want to know
“Mommy, why is the baby white?” Rowan asked me as I was drying the baby off after bath time.
Where did that question come from? Jory never asked questions about skin color not at four and still not at six. Girls, why must they be different? “She’s not white.”
“But her skin looks white,” she continued.
“You want to know why the baby is fairer than you?”
The four-year-old nodded her head.
“Because God made her that way.” I stuck my arm out near hers. “Do you see how you’re fairer than me? And how Jory and Oma are different shades too?”
She nodded again.
“God made us all that way.”
“God made us that way?” she questioned cautiously.
“Yes, He did”
“Well her bottom looks white,” she countered, pointing to her sister’s pale looking bottom.
“It looks white, but it’s not.”
“Oh, okay.”
And scene. Questions just come up from anywhere, at anytime, about anything.
Where did that question come from? Jory never asked questions about skin color not at four and still not at six. Girls, why must they be different? “She’s not white.”
“But her skin looks white,” she continued.
“You want to know why the baby is fairer than you?”
The four-year-old nodded her head.
“Because God made her that way.” I stuck my arm out near hers. “Do you see how you’re fairer than me? And how Jory and Oma are different shades too?”
She nodded again.
“God made us all that way.”
“God made us that way?” she questioned cautiously.
“Yes, He did”
“Well her bottom looks white,” she countered, pointing to her sister’s pale looking bottom.
“It looks white, but it’s not.”
“Oh, okay.”
And scene. Questions just come up from anywhere, at anytime, about anything.
Summer days
After running errands for my mom and myself, I came over to my Aunt Lavonia’s house. I made the kids lunch, then took them outside in the backyard to swim while my aunts and friends had a yard sale in the front.
Jory swam while the girls splashed. Then when he was over that he remembered his aunt turning an exercise mat into a float for the pool so he dragged it in. He got on it and floated around, while the girls showed me the neat tricks they could do in the water, which was pretty much them lowering themselves into the water about two inches and then pretending to jump up and as they slowly rose out of the water.
As they played, I did something I hadn’t done in forever- - read. I read a book. I read a book! Do you know how amazing that it is? What is the one thing I missed most that I lost when I became a mother? Yep, reading. I loved reading. I loved that my babies are old enough to play in the water while I read.
With one eye on them and one in my book, Rowan grabbed my attention.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“I’m scared to go lower,” she said.
“Rowan, you’re a big girl. It’ll be fine. You’re tall enough to step down to the third stair and you can walk along the long stair and hold onto the side of the pool while you walk, if you get scared.”
She seemed to like my answer and took that first step. I was proud of her and didn’t have to watch her too closely because I knew exactly where the step was because it was the same step I played on when I was a kid.
We had come full circle, decades ago I played in the same pool. I even had my first “birthday” pool party in that pool with all my friends from Redeemer. I had to pat myself on the back for always wanting to rear my kids not just in the greatest city in the world, the city of angels, but rearing them with family, near family, and in the same places I grew up in.
TTT enjoyed the summer weather in the pool, I read poolside- - Winning!
Jory swam while the girls splashed. Then when he was over that he remembered his aunt turning an exercise mat into a float for the pool so he dragged it in. He got on it and floated around, while the girls showed me the neat tricks they could do in the water, which was pretty much them lowering themselves into the water about two inches and then pretending to jump up and as they slowly rose out of the water.
As they played, I did something I hadn’t done in forever- - read. I read a book. I read a book! Do you know how amazing that it is? What is the one thing I missed most that I lost when I became a mother? Yep, reading. I loved reading. I loved that my babies are old enough to play in the water while I read.
With one eye on them and one in my book, Rowan grabbed my attention.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“I’m scared to go lower,” she said.
“Rowan, you’re a big girl. It’ll be fine. You’re tall enough to step down to the third stair and you can walk along the long stair and hold onto the side of the pool while you walk, if you get scared.”
She seemed to like my answer and took that first step. I was proud of her and didn’t have to watch her too closely because I knew exactly where the step was because it was the same step I played on when I was a kid.
We had come full circle, decades ago I played in the same pool. I even had my first “birthday” pool party in that pool with all my friends from Redeemer. I had to pat myself on the back for always wanting to rear my kids not just in the greatest city in the world, the city of angels, but rearing them with family, near family, and in the same places I grew up in.
TTT enjoyed the summer weather in the pool, I read poolside- - Winning!
Laundry mats
Week two without a washer and dryer and another trip to the laundry mat is required. How do people live like this? How?!?!?!
A big shout out and God bless you to the women who have to use the laundry mat and take the kids with them! It is not easy making sure the washers are cleaned before you dump your separated-at-home-clothes, trying to be efficient and quick so all the washers can stop at around the same time, so they can all go into the dryers together, but making sure you don’t put too many clothes in one dryer because those 15 minutes the dryer goes goes quickly, all while making sure the kids are behaving and not running amok and staying off the dirty looking floor, then making sure they don’t “help” too much when you’re folding clothes because God forbid the clothes fall on the ground and really you just are so over the place you want to go home, and praying all the clothes come clean because you can’t rewash them at will.
A big shout out and God bless you to the women who have to use the laundry mat and take the kids with them! It is not easy making sure the washers are cleaned before you dump your separated-at-home-clothes, trying to be efficient and quick so all the washers can stop at around the same time, so they can all go into the dryers together, but making sure you don’t put too many clothes in one dryer because those 15 minutes the dryer goes goes quickly, all while making sure the kids are behaving and not running amok and staying off the dirty looking floor, then making sure they don’t “help” too much when you’re folding clothes because God forbid the clothes fall on the ground and really you just are so over the place you want to go home, and praying all the clothes come clean because you can’t rewash them at will.
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