When I got to the daycare on Monday evening, Jory was sleeping. Ms Adina told me that he threw up his McD’s, which I got for him as a street after we left daycare, and then he laid down and promptly went to sleep.
I lifted my growing baby up and discovered he was also wet. I could still smell the vomit faintly on him. I just wanted to take him home throw him in the shower quickly, lotion him down, and put him to bed. But I can’t do that. Can’t do that because WE DON”T HAVE A SHOWER!!!! Okay, we have two working showers, but one is sacred and can’t be used and the other is filled with stuff.
I want to take a shower! Isn’t that our God given right to take a shower? A simple shower. Now instead, I have to take my sick baby home, run bath water, put him in, etc… A shower would be much easier and simpler. But because we’re on month nine billion on the construction, we can’t shower. One day, maybe it’ll be our birthday present- - a real life shower.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Picture Day
Today was Jory’s picture day. Poor kid, three weeks into his math lessons, and his second week doing all subjects, except Bible, he already has picture day.
Everyone from Southern California Christian Academy was there to take pictures. Jory and I arrived right on time so he was one of the first to take pictures at 10:40 and the school picture wasn’t until noon. What to do? What to do? I stood around for a while, talked to the one family I knew, but they were old timers so they knew everyone who walked up so we went our separate ways. Families chatted with each other, kids played, and I just stood there. Jory was begging me to go to the playground area so I gave him.
What a relief from standing there feeling awkward, my handsome baby played while I talked on my cell phone. Thank God for cell phones, the cure for standing in a room or park full of strangers. You just open your phone and talk to someone who knows you.
Eventually we did go back and talked to some people we knew, then it was back to awkwardly sitting there. Why in the world did I get out the car without something to write on and with or a book or both? Note to self, never do that again.
When we took the school picture, a woman introduced herself to me because she thought she recognized me from the pool party. She seemed nice and it was her first year of homeschooling too. We could have chatted more, but I was starving and it was time to go back to work, so that was that.
Functions with strangers is just the worst thing in the world for me. I wish I had an identical twin, so I could have a built in free who could go with me wherever I go so I’d always have someone to talk to.
Everyone from Southern California Christian Academy was there to take pictures. Jory and I arrived right on time so he was one of the first to take pictures at 10:40 and the school picture wasn’t until noon. What to do? What to do? I stood around for a while, talked to the one family I knew, but they were old timers so they knew everyone who walked up so we went our separate ways. Families chatted with each other, kids played, and I just stood there. Jory was begging me to go to the playground area so I gave him.
What a relief from standing there feeling awkward, my handsome baby played while I talked on my cell phone. Thank God for cell phones, the cure for standing in a room or park full of strangers. You just open your phone and talk to someone who knows you.
Eventually we did go back and talked to some people we knew, then it was back to awkwardly sitting there. Why in the world did I get out the car without something to write on and with or a book or both? Note to self, never do that again.
When we took the school picture, a woman introduced herself to me because she thought she recognized me from the pool party. She seemed nice and it was her first year of homeschooling too. We could have chatted more, but I was starving and it was time to go back to work, so that was that.
Functions with strangers is just the worst thing in the world for me. I wish I had an identical twin, so I could have a built in free who could go with me wherever I go so I’d always have someone to talk to.
One Full Week Down
Week one of homeschooling went well, the only miss step was Jory’s math test. I was busy cooking, trying to find Rowan’s school uniforms, and we had company. I thought I would help Vandy feel useful so when I saw Jory got some problems incorrect because I realized he needed the directions read to him (such a useful thing when taking a test), I told Vandy to go read the directions to him. Jory finished the test, but now I’m not sure how much Vandy helped him. I forgot to tell Vandy it was a test. Oh well, I know he has the concepts down which is the most important thing.
Teaching on Sundays seems to be an issue. Last week and the week before last, it was late before we got to school. This weekend I tried to be different. I cooked on Saturday night, so I didn’t have to worry about that, tried to iron but I got caught up in the garage looking for Rowan’s uniforms so ironing never got done.
It seems whatever time we come home from church, the clock ticks away double time. It wasn’t until like 9:30PM that we started and finished at around 10:30PM and that was a rough finish because I could feel myself working my eyes double time to stay awake, only to hear Jory say, “Mommy, I learned this at the pre-school I went to when I was little. You know the school the girls go to now.” Awesome! I love how he went to that school when he was little back when he was four and five.
Something has to change about this Sunday so we can do school earlier. Maybe with all of the wardrobe found, though I still think there are pants missing for Rowan but who can begin to find them in the mess that is our house, all the cooking and ironing can get done on Saturday and Sunday is free. Though maybe I should do as Mona suggest and let Jory iron his own clothes. Kayla is a year younger than him and is ironing her own uniforms…. I could supervise Jory while doing something else and I’d be down to only ten shirts and ten pants to iron and maybe school wouldn’t be going on at 10:30 at night.
Teaching on Sundays seems to be an issue. Last week and the week before last, it was late before we got to school. This weekend I tried to be different. I cooked on Saturday night, so I didn’t have to worry about that, tried to iron but I got caught up in the garage looking for Rowan’s uniforms so ironing never got done.
It seems whatever time we come home from church, the clock ticks away double time. It wasn’t until like 9:30PM that we started and finished at around 10:30PM and that was a rough finish because I could feel myself working my eyes double time to stay awake, only to hear Jory say, “Mommy, I learned this at the pre-school I went to when I was little. You know the school the girls go to now.” Awesome! I love how he went to that school when he was little back when he was four and five.
Something has to change about this Sunday so we can do school earlier. Maybe with all of the wardrobe found, though I still think there are pants missing for Rowan but who can begin to find them in the mess that is our house, all the cooking and ironing can get done on Saturday and Sunday is free. Though maybe I should do as Mona suggest and let Jory iron his own clothes. Kayla is a year younger than him and is ironing her own uniforms…. I could supervise Jory while doing something else and I’d be down to only ten shirts and ten pants to iron and maybe school wouldn’t be going on at 10:30 at night.
Things that make you go hmm...
We were at the park and the baby was going to pee in her pants. Why is it that she waits to the last moment to tell me she has to go pee? I tell Rowan and Jory to get in the car so imagine my surprise surprise when the car is empty. They did not just go back to the park, I thought. It was on!
As the war began, I was derailed by a worker from the pool.
“Are these two yours?” she asked with Jory and Rowan right in front of her, complete with their swimming backpacks.
“Yes,” I answered as the two of them walked towards me. And as soon as they were in front of me, it started. “Why weren’t you in the car?”
“Rowan said, you said to go to the pool,” Jory answered.
Really, Jory decided to go with the Adam and Eve defense. Really?!? “Does that sound like something I would say?”
“No, but Rowan said- -“ he continued. He was going down with the ship that laid the blame solely at his younger sister’s feet.
“Rowan did you tell him that?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice barely heard.
“Why would you tell him that?”
No answer.
Strangling them ran through my mind, but instead we left. The baby gleeful sat in her carseat. “Mommy, I was listening.”
“Layla, no talking. Do you two know what could have happened?”
“Someone could have taken us?” they said in unison.
“And I would have never seen you again.” UGH! What’s wrong with them? Where do they get crazy ideas from? Why must they be little sinners? I can’t even write about this. It’s when they began thinking thoughts that it all went down hill. And the “she gave me the apple” defense didn’t work for Adam, why did Jory think it was going to work for him?
As the war began, I was derailed by a worker from the pool.
“Are these two yours?” she asked with Jory and Rowan right in front of her, complete with their swimming backpacks.
“Yes,” I answered as the two of them walked towards me. And as soon as they were in front of me, it started. “Why weren’t you in the car?”
“Rowan said, you said to go to the pool,” Jory answered.
Really, Jory decided to go with the Adam and Eve defense. Really?!? “Does that sound like something I would say?”
“No, but Rowan said- -“ he continued. He was going down with the ship that laid the blame solely at his younger sister’s feet.
“Rowan did you tell him that?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice barely heard.
“Why would you tell him that?”
No answer.
Strangling them ran through my mind, but instead we left. The baby gleeful sat in her carseat. “Mommy, I was listening.”
“Layla, no talking. Do you two know what could have happened?”
“Someone could have taken us?” they said in unison.
“And I would have never seen you again.” UGH! What’s wrong with them? Where do they get crazy ideas from? Why must they be little sinners? I can’t even write about this. It’s when they began thinking thoughts that it all went down hill. And the “she gave me the apple” defense didn’t work for Adam, why did Jory think it was going to work for him?
Nothing...
The baby is a sly one. Her new favorite thing to say is “nateeng (nothing)”.
“What did you just say?” I ask.
“Nateeng.”
“Baby, what do you have in your hand?”
“Nateeng,” she says as something switches from one hand to another behind her back. She thinks she’s a genius sometimes.
“Baby, what’s in your hand?”
“Nateeng,” she repeats, showing her one hand, opening it so I can see there’s nothing in it.
“What’s in your other hand?”
The gig is now up.
Everything is nateeng with a smile or with a serious face. She is the most innocent baby in all the universe or at least in her own mind.
“What did you just say?” I ask.
“Nateeng.”
“Baby, what do you have in your hand?”
“Nateeng,” she says as something switches from one hand to another behind her back. She thinks she’s a genius sometimes.
“Baby, what’s in your hand?”
“Nateeng,” she repeats, showing her one hand, opening it so I can see there’s nothing in it.
“What’s in your other hand?”
The gig is now up.
Everything is nateeng with a smile or with a serious face. She is the most innocent baby in all the universe or at least in her own mind.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Living on...
when I was a kid around eight or nine our neighbor, Virgil, fell in love with the song, As We Lay by Shirley Murdock. For like two months, he played that song seemingly day and night. He played it so much, my mom and I both knew the song by heart and mistakenly thought it was titled It’s Morning because that was a phrase she sang over and over again.
I was feeling nostalgic this morning and decided to play it on youtube. I discovered Kelly Price did a remake of the song, so with the baby in my arms we listened and watched. At some point, I thought the baby and I are creating new memories with this song, Virgil lives on. Then the other part of me was like should I be rocking my baby to a song about a woman realizing that her one night with a married was a mistake? Granted, there could be worse songs.
After listening to Kelly’s version which was pretty faithful to the original, I saw a video for a version with Kelly and Shirley. Kelly was singing at a sorority event, then half-way through the song Shirley comes out as a surprise. It was a nice surprise, then a bigger surprise when Shirley took the song to church. She started quoting scripture and how we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Of course, I was taken aback and was like uh, how did we just go from “You belong to me/Just one night/As we slept the night away” to talking about God. It was cool and all, but wow.
Later at work, I shared my experience with a co-worker and she told me Shirley became a Christian and since As We Lay is the song she’s most known for, she still sings it and uses it as a teaching tool. A tool to say the woman in the song made a mistake by sleeping with a married man and that’s not what God wants for His daughters; that we are fearfully and wonderfully made and God doesn’t want you to settle for someone else’s husband, He only wants the best for us; and that this woman was more than her sin, more than this one mistake at that moment, that God would forgive her of her sin and the woman could move on. Pretty deep. What a way to turn your hit song and into a learning opportunity. And maybe one day, Layla will be rocking her baby girl in her arms while the song is playing and share with her baby the story behind the song.
I was feeling nostalgic this morning and decided to play it on youtube. I discovered Kelly Price did a remake of the song, so with the baby in my arms we listened and watched. At some point, I thought the baby and I are creating new memories with this song, Virgil lives on. Then the other part of me was like should I be rocking my baby to a song about a woman realizing that her one night with a married was a mistake? Granted, there could be worse songs.
After listening to Kelly’s version which was pretty faithful to the original, I saw a video for a version with Kelly and Shirley. Kelly was singing at a sorority event, then half-way through the song Shirley comes out as a surprise. It was a nice surprise, then a bigger surprise when Shirley took the song to church. She started quoting scripture and how we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Of course, I was taken aback and was like uh, how did we just go from “You belong to me/Just one night/As we slept the night away” to talking about God. It was cool and all, but wow.
Later at work, I shared my experience with a co-worker and she told me Shirley became a Christian and since As We Lay is the song she’s most known for, she still sings it and uses it as a teaching tool. A tool to say the woman in the song made a mistake by sleeping with a married man and that’s not what God wants for His daughters; that we are fearfully and wonderfully made and God doesn’t want you to settle for someone else’s husband, He only wants the best for us; and that this woman was more than her sin, more than this one mistake at that moment, that God would forgive her of her sin and the woman could move on. Pretty deep. What a way to turn your hit song and into a learning opportunity. And maybe one day, Layla will be rocking her baby girl in her arms while the song is playing and share with her baby the story behind the song.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!
"Maybe I'll take off the Friday before Columbus Day. Then I'll have Friday and Monday off, but that'll cut into my Christmas time," says Oma.
Will cut into your Christmas time? Heaven forbid you're only off five weeks and four days, instead of the full six weeks. Has she seen our house? Does she not realize she sleeps on a sofa and has been for the last several months because there's only one bed in the house? Well two, if you count Jory's, but for some reason that room is sacred and no one can sleep in it. Does she not realize she hasn't seen her dining room table since before summer began because it's covered by children's clothes, jackets, and other such things?
Why don't we cut Christmas down to just a month and you spend two weeks at home so they can all finish up during regular business hours?
Maybe I'm living in an alternate universe where you don't get mad when construction guys say they do not want to work on Saturdays, Sundays, holidays, and after 4PM Monday thru Friday.
The finish line is visible, but instead for whatever reason she's decided to start running backwards towards the starting line.
Will cut into your Christmas time? Heaven forbid you're only off five weeks and four days, instead of the full six weeks. Has she seen our house? Does she not realize she sleeps on a sofa and has been for the last several months because there's only one bed in the house? Well two, if you count Jory's, but for some reason that room is sacred and no one can sleep in it. Does she not realize she hasn't seen her dining room table since before summer began because it's covered by children's clothes, jackets, and other such things?
Why don't we cut Christmas down to just a month and you spend two weeks at home so they can all finish up during regular business hours?
Maybe I'm living in an alternate universe where you don't get mad when construction guys say they do not want to work on Saturdays, Sundays, holidays, and after 4PM Monday thru Friday.
The finish line is visible, but instead for whatever reason she's decided to start running backwards towards the starting line.
More searching...
Today we visited a daycare near my aunt’s house. It’s another place on my way to work. Yippee!! A sign out front made it easy to find, not too busy of a street, parking in front. All a good start.
Jory and I walked in to find a house full of children of various ages. The daycare provider pointed out which ones were hers and which ones were her daycare children. She used her living room and dining room as the play areas. Nick Jr. was playing on the TV.
One seven-year-old boy, who is cared for after school, came right up to Jory and introduced himself. Unfortunately, Jory was pretending to be shy so he sort of whispered his name and I had to remind him to shake the little boy’s hand.
The woman and I talked about what I was looking for and what I was doing. Everything seemed kosher, but with her 12, 9, and 7-year-olds there. Along with her 3-year-old, the 16-month-old, and the 7-year-boy, she was watching, it made the space seem very small. She quoted me a price that was reasonable. She said she cooked all meals. Then I asked the question to which she responded, she had one outdoor dog in the backyard but the kids never go back there. Praise God, the right answer.
I wasn’t feeling her the way I was feeling the other daycare provider, but that could be because I was so happy to be at an affordable daycare with no animals that she now just has a special place in my heart.
So now I feel like I have two really viable options for Jory. Though the thought of taking him from the daycare he is at now makes me feel guilty. They’ve been very nice to us. They were willing to take us on when they had never done anything like that before. Ms Adina helps Jory with his work, makes sure he does it neatly. I feel bad that I might be taking away business from them simply because I don’t like animals, their cat scratched my son, and their house has smelled like animals the last few days.
Oh the search continues…
Jory and I walked in to find a house full of children of various ages. The daycare provider pointed out which ones were hers and which ones were her daycare children. She used her living room and dining room as the play areas. Nick Jr. was playing on the TV.
One seven-year-old boy, who is cared for after school, came right up to Jory and introduced himself. Unfortunately, Jory was pretending to be shy so he sort of whispered his name and I had to remind him to shake the little boy’s hand.
The woman and I talked about what I was looking for and what I was doing. Everything seemed kosher, but with her 12, 9, and 7-year-olds there. Along with her 3-year-old, the 16-month-old, and the 7-year-boy, she was watching, it made the space seem very small. She quoted me a price that was reasonable. She said she cooked all meals. Then I asked the question to which she responded, she had one outdoor dog in the backyard but the kids never go back there. Praise God, the right answer.
I wasn’t feeling her the way I was feeling the other daycare provider, but that could be because I was so happy to be at an affordable daycare with no animals that she now just has a special place in my heart.
So now I feel like I have two really viable options for Jory. Though the thought of taking him from the daycare he is at now makes me feel guilty. They’ve been very nice to us. They were willing to take us on when they had never done anything like that before. Ms Adina helps Jory with his work, makes sure he does it neatly. I feel bad that I might be taking away business from them simply because I don’t like animals, their cat scratched my son, and their house has smelled like animals the last few days.
Oh the search continues…
The search....
The search started up again after a break. But before I begin, let's talk about my weekend discovery. Everyday Jory sees we're heading towards the daycare, he says, "Mommy, I don't want to go there. I don't like it there." Some morning there are tears. Some mornings just those sentences. He can't give any reasons why he doesn't like just that he doesn't like it.
A weaker mom would have broken until SNAP it dawned on me this is Jory's MO and I had forgotten. Tears when he doesn't want to do swimming lessons. And how could I have forgotten the tears when he started pre-school? How God clears are minds of certain things, but yet brings it back when we need it. From the Tuesday after Labor Day 2007 until Thanksgiving 2007, Jory cried every morning I dropped him off. His teacher told me, once I closed the door he stopped crying. Awesome! The manipulation of tears.
When I pick him up in the evenings, he's having a good time. The daycare providers tell me he's happy during the day, playing, doing his work. So I guess the sadness is for my own personal benefit.
Every morning now, we pray about God sending us to the daycare God wants Jory to be at. On Sunday, God opened my eyes to the fact that when I pray that if it's God's will for Jory to stay where he is that God will give Jory a new attitude towards the place and a new joy, that the last part wasn't just for Jory, but for me too. That I would need God to give me a new attitude and a new joy for the place and for those super evil cats.
Did I mention that one of the cats scratched my baby on Friday? Oh yeah, it's ON! So now back to present day, I started calling daycare providers on Friday while the kids were in AWANA. I made one appointment for Monday......
Monday, I drove down the busy street convinced I had turned the wrong way, yet she said she lived near the junior high so I was going the right way. I saw a daycare sign in a yard and thought I’ll stop here and see if they are taking any kids, then look for the right place. Then eureka I realized I was looking at the last four digits of her phone number as the address and not the four numbers above that number, so the house with the sign was actually the place I was suppose to go. Score!!!
We knocked on the door and a pleasant woman answered the door. She introduced herself and apologized for not exactly remembering the appointment. She directed us to the daycare entrance through the driveway gate. We walked through it and I saw a portable basketball hoop with a backboard. I saw a playground set that Jory could still use. I liked what I was seeing.
We were walked into the back of the home that was set up with table chairs, shelves full of books, TV, and four children. She informed me the kids were part of the kids she kept at night. We talked about how I came to homeschooling. She inquired as to what would be required of her. I asked more questions, she asked some. We both seemed to like each other’s answers. Then I asked price. And I could handle her number. Then I asked the other question, “Do you have any pets?” And praise be to God, she said, “No.” Thank you, sweet, loving Jesus. She said she did have a dog but between her two kids and her daycare kids, she found the dog added too much to her busy plate.
Her daycare is located closer to my home or rather the kids’ doctor’s office than my job, but it’s still on my way to work. So that’s good. Maybe for now God doesn’t want Jory and I to make that long drive home together. Maybe for now, it’s just meant to be a short drive. This woman is a definite possibility. Though I do recognize the fact that at this point if you say you have no pets, I would love you simply for that fact. What you don’t run a zoo besides running a daycare? I’m shocked I thought the two went hand in hand.
A good experience definitely, but the search still continues…
A weaker mom would have broken until SNAP it dawned on me this is Jory's MO and I had forgotten. Tears when he doesn't want to do swimming lessons. And how could I have forgotten the tears when he started pre-school? How God clears are minds of certain things, but yet brings it back when we need it. From the Tuesday after Labor Day 2007 until Thanksgiving 2007, Jory cried every morning I dropped him off. His teacher told me, once I closed the door he stopped crying. Awesome! The manipulation of tears.
When I pick him up in the evenings, he's having a good time. The daycare providers tell me he's happy during the day, playing, doing his work. So I guess the sadness is for my own personal benefit.
Every morning now, we pray about God sending us to the daycare God wants Jory to be at. On Sunday, God opened my eyes to the fact that when I pray that if it's God's will for Jory to stay where he is that God will give Jory a new attitude towards the place and a new joy, that the last part wasn't just for Jory, but for me too. That I would need God to give me a new attitude and a new joy for the place and for those super evil cats.
Did I mention that one of the cats scratched my baby on Friday? Oh yeah, it's ON! So now back to present day, I started calling daycare providers on Friday while the kids were in AWANA. I made one appointment for Monday......
Monday, I drove down the busy street convinced I had turned the wrong way, yet she said she lived near the junior high so I was going the right way. I saw a daycare sign in a yard and thought I’ll stop here and see if they are taking any kids, then look for the right place. Then eureka I realized I was looking at the last four digits of her phone number as the address and not the four numbers above that number, so the house with the sign was actually the place I was suppose to go. Score!!!
We knocked on the door and a pleasant woman answered the door. She introduced herself and apologized for not exactly remembering the appointment. She directed us to the daycare entrance through the driveway gate. We walked through it and I saw a portable basketball hoop with a backboard. I saw a playground set that Jory could still use. I liked what I was seeing.
We were walked into the back of the home that was set up with table chairs, shelves full of books, TV, and four children. She informed me the kids were part of the kids she kept at night. We talked about how I came to homeschooling. She inquired as to what would be required of her. I asked more questions, she asked some. We both seemed to like each other’s answers. Then I asked price. And I could handle her number. Then I asked the other question, “Do you have any pets?” And praise be to God, she said, “No.” Thank you, sweet, loving Jesus. She said she did have a dog but between her two kids and her daycare kids, she found the dog added too much to her busy plate.
Her daycare is located closer to my home or rather the kids’ doctor’s office than my job, but it’s still on my way to work. So that’s good. Maybe for now God doesn’t want Jory and I to make that long drive home together. Maybe for now, it’s just meant to be a short drive. This woman is a definite possibility. Though I do recognize the fact that at this point if you say you have no pets, I would love you simply for that fact. What you don’t run a zoo besides running a daycare? I’m shocked I thought the two went hand in hand.
A good experience definitely, but the search still continues…
AWANA and the Emmys
On Friday, we attended our new AWANA. I wasn’t sure what to expect or how the kids would do. Why was I worried? Everything went beautifully, we saw people who went to our old AWANA. Everyone seemingly except for the director was from our old Cubbies. Jory had at least one leader from his Sparks class.
I thought there would be some place for the parents to fellowship while the kids were in AWANA, but there was no place on Friday. Maybe on Fridays, I’m just meant to fellowship with my loved ones via the phone while I walk the neighborhood, which is a blessing in itself.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
And on Sunday night during the Emmys…
“Mommy, what’s sex?”
Uh, excuse me. “What’s sex?” Please God, let me have misheard him.
“Yes. They just said sex.”
Darn you. Lonely Island Boys!
“Sex is two” married, no I can’t say married though it should be married people. “Sex is two people being intimate.”
“What does intimate mean?”
Why do six-year-olds have the power to reason and understand already?
“It means being close.”
And the subject is dropped for now. I know one day it will come back up one of these days and I’ll have to have a better answer than I gave.
Darn you, Lonely Island Boys!!!!!
I thought there would be some place for the parents to fellowship while the kids were in AWANA, but there was no place on Friday. Maybe on Fridays, I’m just meant to fellowship with my loved ones via the phone while I walk the neighborhood, which is a blessing in itself.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
And on Sunday night during the Emmys…
“Mommy, what’s sex?”
Uh, excuse me. “What’s sex?” Please God, let me have misheard him.
“Yes. They just said sex.”
Darn you. Lonely Island Boys!
“Sex is two” married, no I can’t say married though it should be married people. “Sex is two people being intimate.”
“What does intimate mean?”
Why do six-year-olds have the power to reason and understand already?
“It means being close.”
And the subject is dropped for now. I know one day it will come back up one of these days and I’ll have to have a better answer than I gave.
Darn you, Lonely Island Boys!!!!!
September 17
I was looking for something to eat in the refrigerator when it dawned on me that I didn’t know the date. Was it the 17th? Had the 17th passed? My mind searched for the date and then there it was, today was the 17th. Today was the day. Four years ago, today Rowan came home. It was gotcha day.
For a moment I questioned what that meant. How could I forget such an important day? How could I forget the day my big girl came home? Is it because as time goes on celebrating the gotcha day becomes less important because we are a family, plain and simple and we celebrate her birthday and that’s enough? But than I thought no, that’s not it, because I’m pretty sure we’d always celebrate the baby’s and Jory’s gotcha days, though granted that could be because they fall a day apart during the most wonderful time of the year known as the Christmas season.
Whatever the reason, I was shocked that I had forgotten but I decided to make the best of it. And what better way to spend your gotcha day then running errands with your family. Nothing says family like driving your Oma around to thrift stores as she searches for the perfect white wooden dresser and bureau for the room you will one day share with your Irish twin. And since it was support group night, I thought some Chinese food to share with others and sharing our story would be a great way to spend the evening.
Four years. Four years. It seems much longer than four years. Four years and two days ago, when I first saw her picture. I thought she was a cute baby. An hour later when I met her in person at her foster home, I thought wow no one told me she was part Asian. Later I found out she was half-Samoan. There’s something about me and these Asian/Pacific Islander girls that I meet them for an hour one day and the next day or the day after they become my forever daughters.
I remembered holding her while sitting on the carpet in her foster family’s living surrounded by my SW, her CW, her adoption CW, foster mom, foster grandma, and the four other kids under the age of four living there. As I sat on the floor, Uncle LC’s comment, she has some meat on her bones, did go through my mind. Chunky cheeks and a few whispers of hair. She was a cute one.
Who would have imagined four years and two days later, I would have a big girl: who loves to share; if you’re sick she’s there to rub your back and ask if you feel better; loves her brother and her sister; who remembers fondly when she was a little girl of three; who loves to squeal with delight when she’s happy to see you; who loves to scream to hear her own voice or because she’s upset; who has more patience and kindness than I have because she’s always quick, after the screams and tears, to say “That’s okay, baby” after the baby has apologized for hitting her, taking something from her, or biting her. I think I would have smacked that baby by now, but that’s me.
I never imagined I would look at her at times and wonder was she born a blonde. Or look at her and worry that one day she’s gonna be the girl in the horror film that hears a noise outside in the woods and decides to go investigate by herself with no shotgun, wooden stakes, silver bullets, or holy water. Who would have imagined the six-and-a-half-month-old I held would one day love to give hugs, give kisses, and cuddle and snuggle in the bed; would love to tell me about all the naughtiness and mischief her brother and/or sister get into; and would be so incredibly emotional.
My brilliant, beautiful, kind big girl. Who would have ever thunk that once upon a time your Mommy was smokin’ crack and thought it would be a fine idea for your two-and-a-half-year-old brother to name you and that you were almost Daphne? Daphne wasn’t a bad name, I just wasn’t sure I could live with it for the rest of my life. Your brother's not so bad in the naming department. He could have wanted to name you Velma.
Thank goodness, I did the best three out of five and you became the Rowan that you are. I can’t imagine you with any other name. I love you! I love you forever. I like you for always, though I won’t always like what you do or say. As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.
Four years ago, I was blessed once again to have the privilege, the honor, and the responsibility to be your Mommy and I thank God everyday for the blessing that is you.
And in parting, here is my greatest prayer, wish for you…
I wish for you my friend, my daughter, my love
This happiness that I've found
You can depend on God
It matters not where you're bound
I'll shout it from the mountain top (Hey world!)
I want the world to know
The Lord of love has come to me
I want to pass it on
For a moment I questioned what that meant. How could I forget such an important day? How could I forget the day my big girl came home? Is it because as time goes on celebrating the gotcha day becomes less important because we are a family, plain and simple and we celebrate her birthday and that’s enough? But than I thought no, that’s not it, because I’m pretty sure we’d always celebrate the baby’s and Jory’s gotcha days, though granted that could be because they fall a day apart during the most wonderful time of the year known as the Christmas season.
Whatever the reason, I was shocked that I had forgotten but I decided to make the best of it. And what better way to spend your gotcha day then running errands with your family. Nothing says family like driving your Oma around to thrift stores as she searches for the perfect white wooden dresser and bureau for the room you will one day share with your Irish twin. And since it was support group night, I thought some Chinese food to share with others and sharing our story would be a great way to spend the evening.
Four years. Four years. It seems much longer than four years. Four years and two days ago, when I first saw her picture. I thought she was a cute baby. An hour later when I met her in person at her foster home, I thought wow no one told me she was part Asian. Later I found out she was half-Samoan. There’s something about me and these Asian/Pacific Islander girls that I meet them for an hour one day and the next day or the day after they become my forever daughters.
I remembered holding her while sitting on the carpet in her foster family’s living surrounded by my SW, her CW, her adoption CW, foster mom, foster grandma, and the four other kids under the age of four living there. As I sat on the floor, Uncle LC’s comment, she has some meat on her bones, did go through my mind. Chunky cheeks and a few whispers of hair. She was a cute one.
Who would have imagined four years and two days later, I would have a big girl: who loves to share; if you’re sick she’s there to rub your back and ask if you feel better; loves her brother and her sister; who remembers fondly when she was a little girl of three; who loves to squeal with delight when she’s happy to see you; who loves to scream to hear her own voice or because she’s upset; who has more patience and kindness than I have because she’s always quick, after the screams and tears, to say “That’s okay, baby” after the baby has apologized for hitting her, taking something from her, or biting her. I think I would have smacked that baby by now, but that’s me.
I never imagined I would look at her at times and wonder was she born a blonde. Or look at her and worry that one day she’s gonna be the girl in the horror film that hears a noise outside in the woods and decides to go investigate by herself with no shotgun, wooden stakes, silver bullets, or holy water. Who would have imagined the six-and-a-half-month-old I held would one day love to give hugs, give kisses, and cuddle and snuggle in the bed; would love to tell me about all the naughtiness and mischief her brother and/or sister get into; and would be so incredibly emotional.
My brilliant, beautiful, kind big girl. Who would have ever thunk that once upon a time your Mommy was smokin’ crack and thought it would be a fine idea for your two-and-a-half-year-old brother to name you and that you were almost Daphne? Daphne wasn’t a bad name, I just wasn’t sure I could live with it for the rest of my life. Your brother's not so bad in the naming department. He could have wanted to name you Velma.
Thank goodness, I did the best three out of five and you became the Rowan that you are. I can’t imagine you with any other name. I love you! I love you forever. I like you for always, though I won’t always like what you do or say. As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.
Four years ago, I was blessed once again to have the privilege, the honor, and the responsibility to be your Mommy and I thank God everyday for the blessing that is you.
And in parting, here is my greatest prayer, wish for you…
I wish for you my friend, my daughter, my love
This happiness that I've found
You can depend on God
It matters not where you're bound
I'll shout it from the mountain top (Hey world!)
I want the world to know
The Lord of love has come to me
I want to pass it on
Friday, September 16, 2011
Jory and his daycare
Every day I pick Jory up, he tells me he doesn’t want to go back to his daycare. Why I ask? He tells me about the cat pooping and him almost touching it. I can’t believe this happened not once, but twice to him. If I was him, I think I would refrain from petting the cat. He says the little boy bothers him and follows him. I tried to explain that maybe that was the little boy’s way of trying to be friends with him. Though I did think, how much can he bother you when he goes to school all day and you only see him for maybe two hours or so a day. But maybe they are an intense two hours.
If I were a weaker mother, I would probably be in tears, as he was on day two at this place. But I remembered what Mrs. Wilson, his old teacher said. She said, adjusting to a new place takes time. I realized how right she was, but that also Jory had never really experienced anything new or different in his truly cognitive years and I wasn’t there. He doesn’t remember coming home. He doesn’t remember when he started at Happy’s. He doesn’t remember when he started at Wee Folks. He started AWANA with Rowan. He remembers bits and pieces of his first cruise, but I was there with him and I’m pretty sure the cruise employee from South America stayed with him until he adjusted to being in daycare.
But now he’s doing something new, all by himself, and he can remember it. This wasn’t swimming lessons, where he could see me even when he was crying in the pool, thus getting me banned from swimming lessons. He’s going to this new place, all by himself, with people he’s never met in his entire life, and all he knows that at the end of a long day, I will come and pick him up. Poor baby. But that’s life. And when I pick him up in the evenings, he’s smiling and grinning. Ms Crystal and Ms Adina say he has good days.
What to do? What to do?
“Jory, you need to pray about this. You need to ask God to help Mommy find you the daycare where He wants you to be at. But know that might mean God wants you to stay where you’re at. And know that Mommy hasn’t stopped looking for a daycare for you.”
He said, okay.
Then I told him, if he had to stay at this place that I every few months, he could spend another whole day at work with Mommy.
That made him happy.
So this morning, he started telling me he didn’t want to go. He gave me the same reasons.
“Jory, close your eyes. Let’s pray. Dear God, please help us to find the daycare you want Jory to be at. And if it’s your will that he continues where he’s at- -“
“No, Mommy,” Jory interjected.
“Jory, we don’t know what God wants. This could be His will.”
“And Lord, if Jory is where you want him to be- -“
“No!”
“We’re praying, Jory. Lord, if it’s your will that Jory stays where he’s at, please give him a new spirit, new attitude, and joy to be where he’s at. Amen.”
So that’s the prayer we’re praying.
If I were a weaker mother, I would probably be in tears, as he was on day two at this place. But I remembered what Mrs. Wilson, his old teacher said. She said, adjusting to a new place takes time. I realized how right she was, but that also Jory had never really experienced anything new or different in his truly cognitive years and I wasn’t there. He doesn’t remember coming home. He doesn’t remember when he started at Happy’s. He doesn’t remember when he started at Wee Folks. He started AWANA with Rowan. He remembers bits and pieces of his first cruise, but I was there with him and I’m pretty sure the cruise employee from South America stayed with him until he adjusted to being in daycare.
But now he’s doing something new, all by himself, and he can remember it. This wasn’t swimming lessons, where he could see me even when he was crying in the pool, thus getting me banned from swimming lessons. He’s going to this new place, all by himself, with people he’s never met in his entire life, and all he knows that at the end of a long day, I will come and pick him up. Poor baby. But that’s life. And when I pick him up in the evenings, he’s smiling and grinning. Ms Crystal and Ms Adina say he has good days.
What to do? What to do?
“Jory, you need to pray about this. You need to ask God to help Mommy find you the daycare where He wants you to be at. But know that might mean God wants you to stay where you’re at. And know that Mommy hasn’t stopped looking for a daycare for you.”
He said, okay.
Then I told him, if he had to stay at this place that I every few months, he could spend another whole day at work with Mommy.
That made him happy.
So this morning, he started telling me he didn’t want to go. He gave me the same reasons.
“Jory, close your eyes. Let’s pray. Dear God, please help us to find the daycare you want Jory to be at. And if it’s your will that he continues where he’s at- -“
“No, Mommy,” Jory interjected.
“Jory, we don’t know what God wants. This could be His will.”
“And Lord, if Jory is where you want him to be- -“
“No!”
“We’re praying, Jory. Lord, if it’s your will that Jory stays where he’s at, please give him a new spirit, new attitude, and joy to be where he’s at. Amen.”
So that’s the prayer we’re praying.
Today…
My cousin, Mag, as she is affectionately called was told by her grandchildren that her daughter, Maggie Jean, her last surviving child had passed away.
In my mind, they were a pair, a trio. Whenever I saw Maggie Jean, there was her mother, and her husband, Cal. When Maggie Jean and Cal decided to retire and leave Philly for small town life in Georgia, where Maggie Jean and Mag were born, Mag was right there with them. They left their children there and the grandchildren and embarked on a whole new life. I am so glad they had these past few years together without work demands getting in the way. They just led a leisurely life.
I will always remember Maggie Jean with a smile on her face, an open hearted giver, who loved the Lord and loved her family.
For the last two years, she battled cancer and on Wednesday God called her home and said, “Well done. Well done, my good and faithful one. Well done.”
My heart aches for her son and daughter who have lost their mother; her daughter’s children who are now adults themselves; her son’s kids who are toddlers and will never get to know their grandmother; her husband who has lost his partner of the last forty-some years; and her mother.
I pray that they will feel God’s presence in a mighty way as He carries them through this storm that they will remember that even during life’s worse moments God is God and He is so good, so faithful, and loving. That they will gain comfort in knowing that one day they will see their loved one again because at the same time they were hearing the news of Maggie Jean’s demise, another family heard the same news and they don’t know if their mom is in heaven or worse they know for sure she isn’t.
Maggie Jean, we love you, we’ll miss you, but we will see you again. I pray that on those streets of gold, you’ll meet TTT in person or should I say “person.”
If you want to know
where I'm going,
where I'm going soon.
If anybody asks you
where I'm going,
where I'm going soon.
I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
Oh, I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
I can take the pain,
the heartaches they bring,
the comforts in knowing
I'll soon be gone.
As God gives me grace,
I'll run this race,
until I see my Savior face to face.
I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
Oh, I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
In my mind, they were a pair, a trio. Whenever I saw Maggie Jean, there was her mother, and her husband, Cal. When Maggie Jean and Cal decided to retire and leave Philly for small town life in Georgia, where Maggie Jean and Mag were born, Mag was right there with them. They left their children there and the grandchildren and embarked on a whole new life. I am so glad they had these past few years together without work demands getting in the way. They just led a leisurely life.
I will always remember Maggie Jean with a smile on her face, an open hearted giver, who loved the Lord and loved her family.
For the last two years, she battled cancer and on Wednesday God called her home and said, “Well done. Well done, my good and faithful one. Well done.”
My heart aches for her son and daughter who have lost their mother; her daughter’s children who are now adults themselves; her son’s kids who are toddlers and will never get to know their grandmother; her husband who has lost his partner of the last forty-some years; and her mother.
I pray that they will feel God’s presence in a mighty way as He carries them through this storm that they will remember that even during life’s worse moments God is God and He is so good, so faithful, and loving. That they will gain comfort in knowing that one day they will see their loved one again because at the same time they were hearing the news of Maggie Jean’s demise, another family heard the same news and they don’t know if their mom is in heaven or worse they know for sure she isn’t.
Maggie Jean, we love you, we’ll miss you, but we will see you again. I pray that on those streets of gold, you’ll meet TTT in person or should I say “person.”
If you want to know
where I'm going,
where I'm going soon.
If anybody asks you
where I'm going,
where I'm going soon.
I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
Oh, I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder.
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
I can take the pain,
the heartaches they bring,
the comforts in knowing
I'll soon be gone.
As God gives me grace,
I'll run this race,
until I see my Savior face to face.
I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
Oh, I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder (going up yonder).
I'm going up yonder to be with my Lord.
First Day of School at New Location
I dropped Jory off at the daycare. The night before we had stopped by Ms Adina’s and Ms Crystal’s daycare so he could be introduced and see where he would be spending his school year. Kids were around playing, he found a car and started riding around. He was his usual pretend shy self.
I showed Ms Adina, who would be helping Jory with his schoolwork, what we were working on, what his math worksheets would look like, and his spelling words. I felt good, then I saw the cat, but bygones. Have I mentioned how cats are evil?
The next morning, I was running slightly, behind but I walked him in to and the smell of breakfast cooking filled my nostrils. This was good, a good beginning. Ms Crystal greeted Jory at the door. I gave him a hug and a kiss, then I was off. I was slightly late to work, but it was nice that Jory’s daycare is close by.
I got there a little before six and he ran to me to hug me. I asked how he did and they said other than getting into a few things he wasn’t suppose to, just learning the rules of the place, he did well and he did well on his worksheets.
We got into the car and drove away.
“Mommy, I don’t like that place.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I was petting the cat and he pooped and I almost touched it.”
I knew I hated animals for good reasons. “Let’s concentrate on the important thing, you didn’t touch it. You almost touched it. What did you do when he pooped? Did you tell anyone?”
“Yes.”
“And what did they do? Did they clean it up?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then it was fine.”
“No, because it still smelled.”
Oh my gosh, Lois Jean. My mother’s clone is sitting behind me talking about what he almost touched and what he smelled. “Jory, didn’t they clean it up and spray some Lysol or something?”
“Yes, but I could still smell it.”
I’m sure you did lil’ LJ. I’m sure you did, LJ. How often do cats have accidents? I think I’m going to have to investigate this further.
New chapters are always so much fun.
I showed Ms Adina, who would be helping Jory with his schoolwork, what we were working on, what his math worksheets would look like, and his spelling words. I felt good, then I saw the cat, but bygones. Have I mentioned how cats are evil?
The next morning, I was running slightly, behind but I walked him in to and the smell of breakfast cooking filled my nostrils. This was good, a good beginning. Ms Crystal greeted Jory at the door. I gave him a hug and a kiss, then I was off. I was slightly late to work, but it was nice that Jory’s daycare is close by.
I got there a little before six and he ran to me to hug me. I asked how he did and they said other than getting into a few things he wasn’t suppose to, just learning the rules of the place, he did well and he did well on his worksheets.
We got into the car and drove away.
“Mommy, I don’t like that place.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I was petting the cat and he pooped and I almost touched it.”
I knew I hated animals for good reasons. “Let’s concentrate on the important thing, you didn’t touch it. You almost touched it. What did you do when he pooped? Did you tell anyone?”
“Yes.”
“And what did they do? Did they clean it up?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then it was fine.”
“No, because it still smelled.”
Oh my gosh, Lois Jean. My mother’s clone is sitting behind me talking about what he almost touched and what he smelled. “Jory, didn’t they clean it up and spray some Lysol or something?”
“Yes, but I could still smell it.”
I’m sure you did lil’ LJ. I’m sure you did, LJ. How often do cats have accidents? I think I’m going to have to investigate this further.
New chapters are always so much fun.
Monday, September 12, 2011
My baby is growing up…First Day of School Part II
When I got to work on Monday with Jory in tow, I explained to the powers that be what was happening to which my boss said, “I just saw that on the news.”
I guess that wasn’t a police chopper Jory saw in the air, but a news one. She okay’d it for Jory to stay for the whole day. I was just thinking he’d stay until the police cleared the area and around lunch time I would take him to daycare, but okay I’ll take this.
I have a spare office next to my desk, we put his backpack in there, then off to the commissary we went for breakfast. Nothing gets the day started like a little pancakes, bacon, and milk. I found the Nickelodeon channel and closed the office door as he chowed down and I began working.
After breakfast was finished, he got to watch some TV for a bit before it was time to do the worksheets he would have done at daycare. I placed the math worksheet in front of him and gave him an hour to do them. We did the first problem together and then I saw he was having difficulties with the second one, so I grabbed all the highlighters, a co-worker, gave him for drawing, the remote, extra pencils for him to use to do his addition problems.
An hour later, a few problems had been done, but even fewer done correctly. Off went the TV, along with the information that there would be no going to the park for lunch until all the math problems were done and done correctly. Sometimes it just takes a few magic words and a six-year-old slipping out of the office, down the hallway to the kitchen to get some water.
For lunch, Jory got his choice of the best lean cuisine has to offer from my section of the freezer. He went with the three cheese macaroni. A little lunch in his office, visits from acquaintances bearing gifts and funny conversations, then it was off to the park.
The park was dead and I had a dress on, so he wasn’t so keen on playing by himself. So I figured we could walk the park’s walking path. He started off good, then ventured off, finding flowers to give me, seeing animals, trying out exercise equipment, other playground areas, then finally the swings.
I got on the swings to distract him from going to play with the little boy, who didn’t look like he wanted anyone to “help” him play with his trucks in the sand. We had a swinging contest and I won. Out of the park we went and to the Grove. Just as we arrived at the exit, I saw the trolley coming. We hopped on the trolley, sat on the top level, and enjoyed the sunshine and the Grove backwards. Oh the things you can do within an hour.
Post-lunch meant writing spelling words five times each. The desk became too confining, so on the floor he went. I was okay with that as long as the work got down. The second half of the day saw some crawling around on the floor, trying to be secretive, hiding underneath my desk so he could heat up (a boy after my own heart), sharing candy with Louise, bathroom breaks, and finally the end of the day.
Jory spent from 9:30ish to 5:30ish at my office, people came in and didn’t even know a kid was in the office. My baby is turning into a big boy. A real life kid. When and how did that happen?
I guess that wasn’t a police chopper Jory saw in the air, but a news one. She okay’d it for Jory to stay for the whole day. I was just thinking he’d stay until the police cleared the area and around lunch time I would take him to daycare, but okay I’ll take this.
I have a spare office next to my desk, we put his backpack in there, then off to the commissary we went for breakfast. Nothing gets the day started like a little pancakes, bacon, and milk. I found the Nickelodeon channel and closed the office door as he chowed down and I began working.
After breakfast was finished, he got to watch some TV for a bit before it was time to do the worksheets he would have done at daycare. I placed the math worksheet in front of him and gave him an hour to do them. We did the first problem together and then I saw he was having difficulties with the second one, so I grabbed all the highlighters, a co-worker, gave him for drawing, the remote, extra pencils for him to use to do his addition problems.
An hour later, a few problems had been done, but even fewer done correctly. Off went the TV, along with the information that there would be no going to the park for lunch until all the math problems were done and done correctly. Sometimes it just takes a few magic words and a six-year-old slipping out of the office, down the hallway to the kitchen to get some water.
For lunch, Jory got his choice of the best lean cuisine has to offer from my section of the freezer. He went with the three cheese macaroni. A little lunch in his office, visits from acquaintances bearing gifts and funny conversations, then it was off to the park.
The park was dead and I had a dress on, so he wasn’t so keen on playing by himself. So I figured we could walk the park’s walking path. He started off good, then ventured off, finding flowers to give me, seeing animals, trying out exercise equipment, other playground areas, then finally the swings.
I got on the swings to distract him from going to play with the little boy, who didn’t look like he wanted anyone to “help” him play with his trucks in the sand. We had a swinging contest and I won. Out of the park we went and to the Grove. Just as we arrived at the exit, I saw the trolley coming. We hopped on the trolley, sat on the top level, and enjoyed the sunshine and the Grove backwards. Oh the things you can do within an hour.
Post-lunch meant writing spelling words five times each. The desk became too confining, so on the floor he went. I was okay with that as long as the work got down. The second half of the day saw some crawling around on the floor, trying to be secretive, hiding underneath my desk so he could heat up (a boy after my own heart), sharing candy with Louise, bathroom breaks, and finally the end of the day.
Jory spent from 9:30ish to 5:30ish at my office, people came in and didn’t even know a kid was in the office. My baby is turning into a big boy. A real life kid. When and how did that happen?
The First Day of School
Last night, we watched lesson one of Math-U-See, after Mommy put the smack down on three little ones. I'll be honest, I didn't watch the Math-U-See DVD in advance like I was suppose to so I was a little shocked at how basic cable looking it looked to me and those off-camera kids, I"m not a fan of, but bygones. We got through the first lesson on place value and how the tens, hundreds, and ones (called units in this curriculum) all live on decimal street.
We took out the manipulatives and started working with them and then Jory and I both understood what the math teacher had been explaining. We did ten different numbers, while the girls played happy with the manipulatives and treated them like Legos. Jory wanted to do more, but since it was 10:30PM, I thought it was time to go to sleep. Yes, I did say 10:30PM, this night owl of mine is trying to change the way my mind works and my sleeping habits.
Cut to next morning:
After a fifteen minute teeth brushing debacle, we were out the door only 5 minutes late. Dropping the girls (whom started school beautifully last week, the Baby acts like she's been in school her whole life) off, I realized I left their tuition check at home or rather I never made out the check because I never went on the hunt to find new checks because my room still looks like WW III happened because of the never ending construction. Totally have to do that tonight. I get them out the car without ever getting out of the car because I fear Jory and I are running behind.
In my mind I created my own route to get to Jory's daycare because the routes I was given on Mapquest, I feared would be marred in traffic. Jory and I go over his phonics and spelling words, words that end in "at". Then he is entertained by the police cars he sees, the trash trucks, the city buses, and the helicopter flying over head. I ponder if the terrific trio needs to start waking up earlier so I can get the Irish twins, Jory, and myself all to our various locations by 9AM. I wonder if I'll have enough time to explain to his daycare provider what he's doing in his schoolwork.
As these things are swimming around in my mind, I search each street to see if it's the one I should turn on, then EUREKA I find the street...only to see police cars blocking the street. Okay, that's odd. I'll turn on the next block. Uh, nope, more cops. I'll try the next street. Yep, it's clear. Now to figure out a way to circle back in this unfamiliar neighborhood and pray the cops aren't blocking off the daycare's street. Praise God! I found my way back around, but I don't see the street I need to turn down but I do see an officer. I show him the address, I need and he says.
"We lost an armed suspect in the area. 20th and 21st are on lock down," he says.
The daycare is on 20th. AWESOME!
"Maybe you can call your babysitter and she can meet you a few blocks away, though she won't be able to get back in. It's going to take several hours to clear the area," he continues.
AWESOME! I thank the kind man and take the route he directed me to take to get out. I get to the end of the route and I'm stopped by another officer. He says hi to Jory, I explain where I was trying to go, he checks the car for the suspect. He tells me the area is in total lock down, particularly 20th and 21st aka your daycare provider isn't getting out or coming in.
I drive off and pull over a few blocks away to try to find the daycare provider's number, but of course I can only find every other daycare place I've talked to since the hunt began and my cellphone didn't save her number though I just dialed the number and left a message on Friday.
Nothing left to do except take Jory to work with me since the daycare is closer to work than home. And thus ends or rather begins day one of homeschooling and Jory's first full day of 1st grade. He gets to eat breakfast in the commissary, watch Nickelodeon in the empty office next to my desk, and do the math worksheet and write out his spelling words, just like he would have done at daycare.
Jory asks, "Mommy, are you going to cry?" as we drive to my job.
"No, Mommy, cried enough yesterday. Today, Mommy is laughing. God is good. All the time. Remember that, God is good."
"God is good," he repeats.
I laugh, what a way to start the school year.
We took out the manipulatives and started working with them and then Jory and I both understood what the math teacher had been explaining. We did ten different numbers, while the girls played happy with the manipulatives and treated them like Legos. Jory wanted to do more, but since it was 10:30PM, I thought it was time to go to sleep. Yes, I did say 10:30PM, this night owl of mine is trying to change the way my mind works and my sleeping habits.
Cut to next morning:
After a fifteen minute teeth brushing debacle, we were out the door only 5 minutes late. Dropping the girls (whom started school beautifully last week, the Baby acts like she's been in school her whole life) off, I realized I left their tuition check at home or rather I never made out the check because I never went on the hunt to find new checks because my room still looks like WW III happened because of the never ending construction. Totally have to do that tonight. I get them out the car without ever getting out of the car because I fear Jory and I are running behind.
In my mind I created my own route to get to Jory's daycare because the routes I was given on Mapquest, I feared would be marred in traffic. Jory and I go over his phonics and spelling words, words that end in "at". Then he is entertained by the police cars he sees, the trash trucks, the city buses, and the helicopter flying over head. I ponder if the terrific trio needs to start waking up earlier so I can get the Irish twins, Jory, and myself all to our various locations by 9AM. I wonder if I'll have enough time to explain to his daycare provider what he's doing in his schoolwork.
As these things are swimming around in my mind, I search each street to see if it's the one I should turn on, then EUREKA I find the street...only to see police cars blocking the street. Okay, that's odd. I'll turn on the next block. Uh, nope, more cops. I'll try the next street. Yep, it's clear. Now to figure out a way to circle back in this unfamiliar neighborhood and pray the cops aren't blocking off the daycare's street. Praise God! I found my way back around, but I don't see the street I need to turn down but I do see an officer. I show him the address, I need and he says.
"We lost an armed suspect in the area. 20th and 21st are on lock down," he says.
The daycare is on 20th. AWESOME!
"Maybe you can call your babysitter and she can meet you a few blocks away, though she won't be able to get back in. It's going to take several hours to clear the area," he continues.
AWESOME! I thank the kind man and take the route he directed me to take to get out. I get to the end of the route and I'm stopped by another officer. He says hi to Jory, I explain where I was trying to go, he checks the car for the suspect. He tells me the area is in total lock down, particularly 20th and 21st aka your daycare provider isn't getting out or coming in.
I drive off and pull over a few blocks away to try to find the daycare provider's number, but of course I can only find every other daycare place I've talked to since the hunt began and my cellphone didn't save her number though I just dialed the number and left a message on Friday.
Nothing left to do except take Jory to work with me since the daycare is closer to work than home. And thus ends or rather begins day one of homeschooling and Jory's first full day of 1st grade. He gets to eat breakfast in the commissary, watch Nickelodeon in the empty office next to my desk, and do the math worksheet and write out his spelling words, just like he would have done at daycare.
Jory asks, "Mommy, are you going to cry?" as we drive to my job.
"No, Mommy, cried enough yesterday. Today, Mommy is laughing. God is good. All the time. Remember that, God is good."
"God is good," he repeats.
I laugh, what a way to start the school year.
Homeschooling - Day 1
After arriving at church late, running to the bread store, late swimming lessons, followed by making dinner, ironing everyone’s clothes for the week, washing hair (which is always such an exciting joyous time), giving baths, Jory and I finally started homeschooling. I thought about delaying school for another week since I still didn’t have the very first phonics book in because that’s the way my mind works. How many times did I probably drive Grace crazy by saying to her, “Uh, I can’t read Sweet Valley High book #49, when I haven’t read number #48.”? Though really what was she thinking.
But I’m homeschooling and I need to think outside of the box, work outside the box, so I said, we can start his math because it’s not a traditional part of the Sonlight curriculum. Working on a Jory schedule, we cuddled into bed around 10PM and watched the DVD for lesson one.
“Jory, do you understand what the teacher is talking about?”
“No.”
“Neither does Mommy really.” And let’s be honest why must they be called units, I grew up calling the place value ones. Thousands, hundreds, tens, and ones, I did it, all my friends did it, and we all turned out fine and didn’t get confused. But this is not what this curriculum is calling for, so I’m trying to go with the flow. But I don’t know if I can support the whole “one-ty,” “two-ty”, “three-ty” instead of saying 11, 12, and 13. I don’t think I’m down with that. You can only push me so far.
The first night, even thought, it started late went well. We are officially on are way. 1 day down, 179 more to go oh and 10 years.
But I’m homeschooling and I need to think outside of the box, work outside the box, so I said, we can start his math because it’s not a traditional part of the Sonlight curriculum. Working on a Jory schedule, we cuddled into bed around 10PM and watched the DVD for lesson one.
“Jory, do you understand what the teacher is talking about?”
“No.”
“Neither does Mommy really.” And let’s be honest why must they be called units, I grew up calling the place value ones. Thousands, hundreds, tens, and ones, I did it, all my friends did it, and we all turned out fine and didn’t get confused. But this is not what this curriculum is calling for, so I’m trying to go with the flow. But I don’t know if I can support the whole “one-ty,” “two-ty”, “three-ty” instead of saying 11, 12, and 13. I don’t think I’m down with that. You can only push me so far.
The first night, even thought, it started late went well. We are officially on are way. 1 day down, 179 more to go oh and 10 years.
Me and H & R Block
I went to H & R Block because I was told that their employees had been trained in regards to the adoption tax credit. Imagine my shock when the employee helping me was photocopying the information I had printed from the NACAC website regarding the adoption tax credit.
Then imagine my shock when I had problems and had to search for a H & R Block that was open year round and during hours a reasonably working person could actually make. No one mentioned the majority of their shops closing up during the year. Found a woman, she informed me what the IRS wanted me to send and I did what she said.
One letter, two letters from the IRS, but I knew from my wonderful yahoo groups that sadly this was the norm. It was as if the IRS didn’t know how many families had adopted in the US. Didn’t realize how much they would have to pay to these families. But bygones, so imagine my yes- - shock - - when I received a letter from the IRS saying I owed them more than $6600.
I started searching for a H & R Block office that was open on a Saturday. I finally found in Gardena. I made an appointment for 9AM and spent several hours there. The tax preparer said she had to research some things and she would call. A few days later she called and told me what additional paperwork she needed. It took me a week to find what she needed and when I found it I called the office and that’s when it went downhill.
The receptionist was unsure of whom I was talking about at first, and then she thought the tax preparer that had been helping me was on an eight week vacation (it seems year-round tax preparers take eight weeks off during the off season). Upon hearing that, I was freaking out. This woman had my sensitive tax info and she was gone for eight weeks and didn’t even have the decency to tell me.
The receptionist double checked and her bad, the tax preparer wasn’t off. I took a deep breath and asked what was the best way to send the tax preparer the information she asked for. The woman said I should make an appointment. I tried to explain that I didn’t need to come in the preparer needed the information to finish the work then I would come in. The receptionist had no idea how I could get the information to the preparer without coming in. I couldn’t leave her a voicemail or send her an email or fax her. Is H & R Block in the same century as the rest of the world? How could a nationwide company not have a way for me to contact my tax preparer? Fine, I said, and took the appointment.
So on Saturday at 8:45AM, I took off to drive to the other side of town and not even my town, but several towns over, just so I could give the tax preparer some paperwork. The tax preparer upon hearing my name was wondering why I was in the office. I explained what happened and she nodded her head in agreement. She said the day shift of H & R Block doesn’t know the night shift, which she was part of because she had a day job. And that during the off seasons, year-round employees were moved around to different offices. She confirmed there was no real way to leave her a voicemail message; and while she did have a H & R Block email account, she could only access it when she was at H & R Block which currently was twice a week on Tuesdays and Saturdays. And to top it off, H & R Block wouldn’t allow her to give out a personal email address because the company fears she might steal a client away. ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!?!?!
I am so over this place. I will never use H & R Block ever again. I sat down with the nice tax preparer and she explained that she didn’t need the information she asked for because she found the tax return she needed. She further explained that because I had my original taxes done at another H & R Block, which was in a different district, she wasn’t able to access it. Are you kidding me?!?! So her boss had to call that district and have the records put in the vault, then she could access them.
Suffice to say, I got there a little after 9AM, around 10:30 I was barely keeping my eyes open, so I went out to get some hot chocolate from Starbucks but couldn’t find it so instead I ended up with a two piece meal from Church’s. Did you know they have new biscuits? They are quite tasty too. If only they had had jelly. So I ate my breakfast and my gigantic soda and when she kept working and seemingly wanted me there, I decided to put my time to good use as she explained that the first tax preparer did my taxes wrong and the reason the IRS wanted me to pay them was also for the wrong year. Happy, happy, joy, joy!
I went out to the car and got Jory’s math book and notebooks. I read his first lesson, still was surprised they were teaching place value to a first grader, but bygones. I organized the math notebooks, separated them by lesson sections. She was still working away, so I thought might as well keep working. I traded math for Sonlight curriculum and reorganized that notebook. I read the beginning pages of the phonics/spelling book and then finally she was finished. Then came the fun part where I discovered I owed H & R Block more money on top of the money I had paid the first time around. But God is good! I gotta keep that mantra going. I had all my amended taxes in my hands and at 3:30PM I was walking out of the door. Did I mention H & R closed at 2? So I spent all day there.
The nice woman said, you better come back for me to do your taxes next year after all this work. This woman was super nice and helpful, but really hell would have to freeze over before I came back to H & R Block.
After I ran a few errands…wait, explain to me how a week after Labor Day Burlington Coat Factory has the audacity to sell boy shorts size 6 for $20…finally found Jory some shorts and Layla a bathing suit for $2.83, I arrived home at 5PM. 5PM, what a crazy day. Please God, let the IRS accept these new changes and sends me all of my money and that I won’t be audited like the tax preparer thinks.
Then imagine my shock when I had problems and had to search for a H & R Block that was open year round and during hours a reasonably working person could actually make. No one mentioned the majority of their shops closing up during the year. Found a woman, she informed me what the IRS wanted me to send and I did what she said.
One letter, two letters from the IRS, but I knew from my wonderful yahoo groups that sadly this was the norm. It was as if the IRS didn’t know how many families had adopted in the US. Didn’t realize how much they would have to pay to these families. But bygones, so imagine my yes- - shock - - when I received a letter from the IRS saying I owed them more than $6600.
I started searching for a H & R Block office that was open on a Saturday. I finally found in Gardena. I made an appointment for 9AM and spent several hours there. The tax preparer said she had to research some things and she would call. A few days later she called and told me what additional paperwork she needed. It took me a week to find what she needed and when I found it I called the office and that’s when it went downhill.
The receptionist was unsure of whom I was talking about at first, and then she thought the tax preparer that had been helping me was on an eight week vacation (it seems year-round tax preparers take eight weeks off during the off season). Upon hearing that, I was freaking out. This woman had my sensitive tax info and she was gone for eight weeks and didn’t even have the decency to tell me.
The receptionist double checked and her bad, the tax preparer wasn’t off. I took a deep breath and asked what was the best way to send the tax preparer the information she asked for. The woman said I should make an appointment. I tried to explain that I didn’t need to come in the preparer needed the information to finish the work then I would come in. The receptionist had no idea how I could get the information to the preparer without coming in. I couldn’t leave her a voicemail or send her an email or fax her. Is H & R Block in the same century as the rest of the world? How could a nationwide company not have a way for me to contact my tax preparer? Fine, I said, and took the appointment.
So on Saturday at 8:45AM, I took off to drive to the other side of town and not even my town, but several towns over, just so I could give the tax preparer some paperwork. The tax preparer upon hearing my name was wondering why I was in the office. I explained what happened and she nodded her head in agreement. She said the day shift of H & R Block doesn’t know the night shift, which she was part of because she had a day job. And that during the off seasons, year-round employees were moved around to different offices. She confirmed there was no real way to leave her a voicemail message; and while she did have a H & R Block email account, she could only access it when she was at H & R Block which currently was twice a week on Tuesdays and Saturdays. And to top it off, H & R Block wouldn’t allow her to give out a personal email address because the company fears she might steal a client away. ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!?!?!
I am so over this place. I will never use H & R Block ever again. I sat down with the nice tax preparer and she explained that she didn’t need the information she asked for because she found the tax return she needed. She further explained that because I had my original taxes done at another H & R Block, which was in a different district, she wasn’t able to access it. Are you kidding me?!?! So her boss had to call that district and have the records put in the vault, then she could access them.
Suffice to say, I got there a little after 9AM, around 10:30 I was barely keeping my eyes open, so I went out to get some hot chocolate from Starbucks but couldn’t find it so instead I ended up with a two piece meal from Church’s. Did you know they have new biscuits? They are quite tasty too. If only they had had jelly. So I ate my breakfast and my gigantic soda and when she kept working and seemingly wanted me there, I decided to put my time to good use as she explained that the first tax preparer did my taxes wrong and the reason the IRS wanted me to pay them was also for the wrong year. Happy, happy, joy, joy!
I went out to the car and got Jory’s math book and notebooks. I read his first lesson, still was surprised they were teaching place value to a first grader, but bygones. I organized the math notebooks, separated them by lesson sections. She was still working away, so I thought might as well keep working. I traded math for Sonlight curriculum and reorganized that notebook. I read the beginning pages of the phonics/spelling book and then finally she was finished. Then came the fun part where I discovered I owed H & R Block more money on top of the money I had paid the first time around. But God is good! I gotta keep that mantra going. I had all my amended taxes in my hands and at 3:30PM I was walking out of the door. Did I mention H & R closed at 2? So I spent all day there.
The nice woman said, you better come back for me to do your taxes next year after all this work. This woman was super nice and helpful, but really hell would have to freeze over before I came back to H & R Block.
After I ran a few errands…wait, explain to me how a week after Labor Day Burlington Coat Factory has the audacity to sell boy shorts size 6 for $20…finally found Jory some shorts and Layla a bathing suit for $2.83, I arrived home at 5PM. 5PM, what a crazy day. Please God, let the IRS accept these new changes and sends me all of my money and that I won’t be audited like the tax preparer thinks.
I love Oma...
I love Oma. She’s a great mom, a great Oma, but when it comes to construction - - she has lost her marbles. My aunt Brenda was staying at our house to watch the workmen, it gave Oma piece of mind, so it’s all good, but then Aunt Brenda started back to school so she could become an RN. And due to the budget crisis, the classes she wanted were only available to people about to graduate so she had to sit in on classes, then talk to the professor to get his or her approval and signature to get into the class. Suffice to say, her schedule is wacky and she now goes to Monday through Friday until at least 2PM, which in laymen’s terms means she can no longer stay at our house.
So for the last two weeks, no work has been done, except for the Saturday before Labor Day. Oma is frustrated, but doesn’t trust the workers, really she trusts no one so they shouldn’t be offended, so she’s in a quandary. I look around our house with clothes everywhere, thinking about going to the store to buy some tape because all though we have some and tons of it probably, I have no idea where the tape is or even where to begin to look for it, and I think let the workers in, if they can find something to steal they are geniuses or the world’s greatest finders, and really I don’t care as long as my house looks like a home again.
My weeks no longer have themes, I just wear whatever I can find since I can no longer get fully into my closet. My closet is the hideout for important stuff and the baby was getting to those things, so I started adding things to the piles and now she can’t get to it and I can’t really reach inside my closet. Score!
Please God, let her allow the workers to finish the house.
So for the last two weeks, no work has been done, except for the Saturday before Labor Day. Oma is frustrated, but doesn’t trust the workers, really she trusts no one so they shouldn’t be offended, so she’s in a quandary. I look around our house with clothes everywhere, thinking about going to the store to buy some tape because all though we have some and tons of it probably, I have no idea where the tape is or even where to begin to look for it, and I think let the workers in, if they can find something to steal they are geniuses or the world’s greatest finders, and really I don’t care as long as my house looks like a home again.
My weeks no longer have themes, I just wear whatever I can find since I can no longer get fully into my closet. My closet is the hideout for important stuff and the baby was getting to those things, so I started adding things to the piles and now she can’t get to it and I can’t really reach inside my closet. Score!
Please God, let her allow the workers to finish the house.
You know your baby…
Is spoiled when she hurts her finger in the basket, tears start following so you pick her up to calm her down though you don’t see anything wrong with the finger, and then after she has stopped crying and you attempt to put her back in the basket, she starts up again, so you find yourself pushing a basket with a four-year-old in it, while holding a three-year-old on one hip and hand and grocery shopping with the other hand.
“Why am I still carrying you?” you ask.
“Because you love me,” she answers.
Maybe, but mostly it’s because I’m insane. Insanely in love with a spoiled baby.
“Why am I still carrying you?” you ask.
“Because you love me,” she answers.
Maybe, but mostly it’s because I’m insane. Insanely in love with a spoiled baby.
Isn't summer over?
When did basketball shorts become shorts you wear outside of the house? All I want to do is buy my son some shorts for next summer, but I seemingly can’t do that because the only shorts the stores want to put on sale are basketball shorts, which would be perfect if next summer Jory was going to join a basketball team or spend his entire summer on the court, but he’s not and so I’m not buying them. Step it up, stores! Boys can and should wear more than just basketball shorts, even if they aren’t made out of the same silk-like material. UGH!
And why aren’t bathing suits and swim trunks on sale post-Labor or rather starting on Labor Day weekend? That’s ridiculous. Hardcore/year round swimmers aren’t buying their bathing suits from JC Penney’s or Target, so put them on sale already! And not for your measly 30% off, but they should be like 70 or 80% off. It’s the end of summer people, wake up and smell the fall.
And why aren’t bathing suits and swim trunks on sale post-Labor or rather starting on Labor Day weekend? That’s ridiculous. Hardcore/year round swimmers aren’t buying their bathing suits from JC Penney’s or Target, so put them on sale already! And not for your measly 30% off, but they should be like 70 or 80% off. It’s the end of summer people, wake up and smell the fall.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Layla's First Day of School
The baby has been dying to go to school for months. Well, let’s start from the beginning. In my way to parent guide, all kids would start school at the age of three. Jory started three months before turning three. Rowan started a little less than two months before she turned three. So based on this, the baby should have started school in January, a few weeks before she turned three.
I got the paperwork, filled it out, but then I looked at her. She was so tiny, so little, such a baby. She couldn’t start school then. But in February she would start, but oddly enough even though she was officially three, she was still small. I mean, she was wearing size 18 months pants. How can anyone wearing pants and tops that small start school? So I decided she would start in March, which turned into April, which turned into after school ends and she’ll start in June for summer school.
I told Oma my plan and she said, “Why should she start in June? Just let her start in September.”
She didn’t have to twist my arm for me to agree. But when April rolled around, the baby who had had a taste of school from AWANA would ask almost every morning when we dropped off her brother and sister if she could go to school with them. I told her, when she got bigger she could go to school.
So Labor Day rolled around and since our house is chaos central, I couldn’t even find her uniform shorts. I decided I didn’t have the energy or the strength or the wherewithal to even begin to guess where the shorts might be, so I figured as long as she wore blue shorts or something in the blue family with a blue or white top that was about as close to uniforms as she and Rowan were getting this year. Though Rowan did wear uniform shorts with a school shirt so she was in uniform style, the baby not so much, but hey bygones. Layla started school being closer to four, than three, so why should start following tradition now by wearing an actual uniform the first day of school.
The baby was excited to be going to school. She tolerated her ponytails and at anytime she started acting funny, I would say, “Okay, you don’t have to go to school today.” It’s amazing how that phrase was quite the attitude adjustment.
I gave her a kiss, a hug, told her to listen and obey, have a great day at school, and that I loved her. I repeated the routine with Rowan, with Jory, and off to work I went.
I would love to say the baby was beside herself with sadness, that tears were flowing like the overflowing Red River, that she clung to me like cheese to pizza sauce, but alas she did not. She kissed, hugged, and went on her merry way like it was no big thing. Did she miss this monumental moment? She was starting school and it wouldn’t stop for another fifteen years. Nope, she didn’t get it.
I got the paperwork, filled it out, but then I looked at her. She was so tiny, so little, such a baby. She couldn’t start school then. But in February she would start, but oddly enough even though she was officially three, she was still small. I mean, she was wearing size 18 months pants. How can anyone wearing pants and tops that small start school? So I decided she would start in March, which turned into April, which turned into after school ends and she’ll start in June for summer school.
I told Oma my plan and she said, “Why should she start in June? Just let her start in September.”
She didn’t have to twist my arm for me to agree. But when April rolled around, the baby who had had a taste of school from AWANA would ask almost every morning when we dropped off her brother and sister if she could go to school with them. I told her, when she got bigger she could go to school.
So Labor Day rolled around and since our house is chaos central, I couldn’t even find her uniform shorts. I decided I didn’t have the energy or the strength or the wherewithal to even begin to guess where the shorts might be, so I figured as long as she wore blue shorts or something in the blue family with a blue or white top that was about as close to uniforms as she and Rowan were getting this year. Though Rowan did wear uniform shorts with a school shirt so she was in uniform style, the baby not so much, but hey bygones. Layla started school being closer to four, than three, so why should start following tradition now by wearing an actual uniform the first day of school.
The baby was excited to be going to school. She tolerated her ponytails and at anytime she started acting funny, I would say, “Okay, you don’t have to go to school today.” It’s amazing how that phrase was quite the attitude adjustment.
I gave her a kiss, a hug, told her to listen and obey, have a great day at school, and that I loved her. I repeated the routine with Rowan, with Jory, and off to work I went.
I would love to say the baby was beside herself with sadness, that tears were flowing like the overflowing Red River, that she clung to me like cheese to pizza sauce, but alas she did not. She kissed, hugged, and went on her merry way like it was no big thing. Did she miss this monumental moment? She was starting school and it wouldn’t stop for another fifteen years. Nope, she didn’t get it.
Labor Day
My plans for Labor Day were to go to a bbq, then come home and prepare for school. The girls were starting school the next day. The baby’s first day of school ever. Jory was going to start his first day of homeschooling. I needed to get everyone clothes’ up and ironed so we could be ready to go Tuesday morning.
Instead it all went to pot. I had errands to run for my mom for the house. Vandy came over to help my mom finish Jory’s room, after she and I spent the morning moving things around in his room.
I needed to read the first lesson in Math-U-See and watch the video before I showed it to Jory. I still hadn’t put my notebook back together after photocopying some pages. I needed to get myself organized and now I had to drop Vandy back off at home. IT was hotter than a bangee outside so I had to go blow up the pool and Rowan was acting like she had no common sense by playing in the Vaseline. This day was not turning out like I imagined.
I threw on a dress, dropped Vandy off, and came back home to get the family. I decided to take Jory’s books with me. I could read and prepare while he and his sisters played in the pool. I dropped everyone off at Aunt Linda’s house, while I went to the local gas station. Yiippee, the air was free! I pumped the pool, life was good. I pumped the sun cover, but I felt one part could be pumped some more. I pumped it some more and then it exploded. I guess it had enough air in it.
I shoved the pool and cover in the back, left the back of the minivan up so I wouldn’t burst anything else. I successfully and slowly drove back and was only a block away, when my phone rang. It was my mom, asking me to stop at the store to buy some drinks for the kids. Yeah, my mind is racing with all the things I’m not doing as the clock is ticking away. I asked, if my kids were the only kids present. My mother confirmed they were and I decided they could share a watered down soda. No going to the store necessary. I parked took out the swimming pool where Vandy promptly filled it with water, while the kids eagerly took off their shirts and shorts so they could get into the pool.
I unwrapped Math-U-See and that was all the school work that I got done. I helped my aunt, moved chairs around, fed the kids, tried to eat myself until I just gave up, then there was a family meeting, my mom had errands to run when we finally did leave, so by the time we got home it was dark. And it was then that I knew, Jory would not be starting school the week of Labor Day. It would have to be the following week. And I also knew that it would be a week where I would be ironing every morning. Gotta love those weeks and what a great way to start the school year.
Instead it all went to pot. I had errands to run for my mom for the house. Vandy came over to help my mom finish Jory’s room, after she and I spent the morning moving things around in his room.
I needed to read the first lesson in Math-U-See and watch the video before I showed it to Jory. I still hadn’t put my notebook back together after photocopying some pages. I needed to get myself organized and now I had to drop Vandy back off at home. IT was hotter than a bangee outside so I had to go blow up the pool and Rowan was acting like she had no common sense by playing in the Vaseline. This day was not turning out like I imagined.
I threw on a dress, dropped Vandy off, and came back home to get the family. I decided to take Jory’s books with me. I could read and prepare while he and his sisters played in the pool. I dropped everyone off at Aunt Linda’s house, while I went to the local gas station. Yiippee, the air was free! I pumped the pool, life was good. I pumped the sun cover, but I felt one part could be pumped some more. I pumped it some more and then it exploded. I guess it had enough air in it.
I shoved the pool and cover in the back, left the back of the minivan up so I wouldn’t burst anything else. I successfully and slowly drove back and was only a block away, when my phone rang. It was my mom, asking me to stop at the store to buy some drinks for the kids. Yeah, my mind is racing with all the things I’m not doing as the clock is ticking away. I asked, if my kids were the only kids present. My mother confirmed they were and I decided they could share a watered down soda. No going to the store necessary. I parked took out the swimming pool where Vandy promptly filled it with water, while the kids eagerly took off their shirts and shorts so they could get into the pool.
I unwrapped Math-U-See and that was all the school work that I got done. I helped my aunt, moved chairs around, fed the kids, tried to eat myself until I just gave up, then there was a family meeting, my mom had errands to run when we finally did leave, so by the time we got home it was dark. And it was then that I knew, Jory would not be starting school the week of Labor Day. It would have to be the following week. And I also knew that it would be a week where I would be ironing every morning. Gotta love those weeks and what a great way to start the school year.
My baby's own room
After a mad rush on Saturday to get a bed, primer, and paint, we come home Sunday to find Jory’s room completely set up with curtains and the whole nine yards. My mom with the help of Vandy, but it together. Vandy even went so far as to choose some books to put on Jory’s desk that he felt a boy would like to read. He really enjoyed helping my mom and seeing Jory’s reaction to it.
And color me shock when my mom showed me the material for the curtains she wants to have made. They material had a Noah’s Ark print on theme. She said she remembered Jory’s theme as a baby was Noah’s Ark so she thought she would incorporate that into his room. Who is this woman? And what did she do with my mother? Maybe it is my mother and this is just a sign that sometimes she listens to my “crazy” ideas.
My baby officially has his own room. Now to put clothes in it. And toys since he already has an ambulance in one of his bottom drawers. And one day, when Oma deems it safe enough and he’s old enough, he’ll actually sleep in it.
And color me shock when my mom showed me the material for the curtains she wants to have made. They material had a Noah’s Ark print on theme. She said she remembered Jory’s theme as a baby was Noah’s Ark so she thought she would incorporate that into his room. Who is this woman? And what did she do with my mother? Maybe it is my mother and this is just a sign that sometimes she listens to my “crazy” ideas.
My baby officially has his own room. Now to put clothes in it. And toys since he already has an ambulance in one of his bottom drawers. And one day, when Oma deems it safe enough and he’s old enough, he’ll actually sleep in it.
Alright
Is the baby’s new favorite phrase. But it throws me off, because I’m not sure if she’s saying it as an alternative to “yes” or if she’s saying it with a little attitude. This little girl straddles that line between being cute and having an attitude so closely on some days.
I guess if I’m questioning she’s giving me attitude, then she probably is, right? It’s a good thing she’s the baby and so darn cute because if not, there would be moments when I would hurt her. I think that’s why God give us a good year to fall hopelessly in love with them before He allows them to walk and talk. Though with the talking thing He could have given us 10 years of silence and I think we would have been perfectly fine.
I guess if I’m questioning she’s giving me attitude, then she probably is, right? It’s a good thing she’s the baby and so darn cute because if not, there would be moments when I would hurt her. I think that’s why God give us a good year to fall hopelessly in love with them before He allows them to walk and talk. Though with the talking thing He could have given us 10 years of silence and I think we would have been perfectly fine.
Loud conversations that should be quiet
“Ewww, Mommy, I can see his underwear,” Jory announced loudly, while walking behind a young man with sagging pants.
How do I respond to this? He is correct, it’s not cool to see the boy’s underwear but this is one of those think it don’t say it times, yet he’s not old enough to know that. “Yes, he shouldn’t be showing his underwear.”
“He needs to pull his pants up,” my six-year-old continued.
“Yes, he does need to pull them up,” I concurred.
“Why does his mommy let him wear his pants like that?” he asked.
Yikes! “I’m not sure,” I answered, praying his voice got lower and he would drop this topic.
“Oh.”
How do I respond to this? He is correct, it’s not cool to see the boy’s underwear but this is one of those think it don’t say it times, yet he’s not old enough to know that. “Yes, he shouldn’t be showing his underwear.”
“He needs to pull his pants up,” my six-year-old continued.
“Yes, he does need to pull them up,” I concurred.
“Why does his mommy let him wear his pants like that?” he asked.
Yikes! “I’m not sure,” I answered, praying his voice got lower and he would drop this topic.
“Oh.”
The search...
I took a break from the search, after emailing the same woman twice. I called some daycare centers but they were too far away. I don’t want this to sound negative because if I lived in the South Bay, my search would be over. If I lived in the OC, my search would have been over as soon as I said, “I need a sitter.” But I don’t live in either of those places and after this never ending remodeling job, I feel like my future husband, Jorge, would have to move into this house cause I’m never leaving it until God calls me home or the terrific trio’s gold medal winning swimming endorsements means we get to move on up to the Eastside.
Time was ticking away so I decided to get back into the fray, a grandmother at the park gave me the cross streets of a daycare she saw near her home. I found the in-home daycare, but they only took infants to pre-schoolers, but she gave me the number of another in-home daycare. I called this other in-home daycare and scheduled a visit.
The place was easy to find and was in between home and work. The outside was nicely manicured. The yard was fenced in. I had a good feeling. I was running a bit behind, but after my third knock the door was answered. I had just caught the women as they were headed out the backdoor. They ushered me and introduced themselves. The owner was an RN and her afternoon assistant. As soon as I sat at the table, they started drilling me, asking me questions. Uh, wasn’t this suppose to be the other way around?
The assistant started listing off other Christian schools in the area that I hadn’t heard of or checked out. I wondered why she was giving me the names of these schools when I was considering hiring her place of employment to watch my son, but I let at go. I just nodded my head.
The owner showed me around, informed me that I would have to fix Jory a lunch and that he would have his own shelf in the pantry to bring his favorite treats, but that she did give out three healthy snacks a day and even listed what they could be in her handout. I guess it was for just in case I had no idea what healthy snacks could be. Part of my mind was stuck on making Jory’s lunch. How does one do that? I’ve never had to make Jory’s lunch or breakfast during the week. Happy made his breakfast and lunch, along with the healthy snacks, then Mrs. Wilson at his pre-school did the same. I only made breakfast and lunch on weekends. What was this world she was trying to force me into? And how much earlier would we have to wake up to make this happen? Because sandwiches made the night before didn’t taste so good the next day.
Everything looked great, sounded great, and then she said the cost. A grand a month?!?! A grand a month?!?! Are you kidding me? And for a grand you can’t make my son two hot meals with food from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s?!?!? She was one hundred to seventy-five dollars more a week, then all the other places I had called. No wonder the assistant was telling me about those schools because they were much cheaper than this daycare. I mean was I paying for the owner’s student loans from her RN schooling days.
I kept it all inside, took the handout, thanked them for their time, and left.
I'm not saying this search is hard, but it's maybe the right word is challenging. I live in one of the biggest cities in the world. A city with the most children in foster care at any given moment out of all the US, but I can’t find one Christian, affordable babysitter or daycare near my job or between my job and my house? It boggles my mind, but I know at the end of the day or rather this period God’s plan will be fully revealed and Jory will be right where the Lord wants him to be.
Homeschooling for the 9 to 5 working mom ain’t cheap that’s for sure. But I’m okay with that, I know God will provide because I’m doing what He’s calling me to do. He doesn’t always call the qualified, He qualifies the called. And I have definitely been called cause throwing Jory in a private school or free daycare aka what Ro has taught me to call public school, would make my life easier, a whole lot easier. But to quote Colin Raye, “Nobody said life is fair/We've all got a cross to bear…/Just think about him hangin' there”
Yep, the search is still on….
Time was ticking away so I decided to get back into the fray, a grandmother at the park gave me the cross streets of a daycare she saw near her home. I found the in-home daycare, but they only took infants to pre-schoolers, but she gave me the number of another in-home daycare. I called this other in-home daycare and scheduled a visit.
The place was easy to find and was in between home and work. The outside was nicely manicured. The yard was fenced in. I had a good feeling. I was running a bit behind, but after my third knock the door was answered. I had just caught the women as they were headed out the backdoor. They ushered me and introduced themselves. The owner was an RN and her afternoon assistant. As soon as I sat at the table, they started drilling me, asking me questions. Uh, wasn’t this suppose to be the other way around?
The assistant started listing off other Christian schools in the area that I hadn’t heard of or checked out. I wondered why she was giving me the names of these schools when I was considering hiring her place of employment to watch my son, but I let at go. I just nodded my head.
The owner showed me around, informed me that I would have to fix Jory a lunch and that he would have his own shelf in the pantry to bring his favorite treats, but that she did give out three healthy snacks a day and even listed what they could be in her handout. I guess it was for just in case I had no idea what healthy snacks could be. Part of my mind was stuck on making Jory’s lunch. How does one do that? I’ve never had to make Jory’s lunch or breakfast during the week. Happy made his breakfast and lunch, along with the healthy snacks, then Mrs. Wilson at his pre-school did the same. I only made breakfast and lunch on weekends. What was this world she was trying to force me into? And how much earlier would we have to wake up to make this happen? Because sandwiches made the night before didn’t taste so good the next day.
Everything looked great, sounded great, and then she said the cost. A grand a month?!?! A grand a month?!?! Are you kidding me? And for a grand you can’t make my son two hot meals with food from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s?!?!? She was one hundred to seventy-five dollars more a week, then all the other places I had called. No wonder the assistant was telling me about those schools because they were much cheaper than this daycare. I mean was I paying for the owner’s student loans from her RN schooling days.
I kept it all inside, took the handout, thanked them for their time, and left.
I'm not saying this search is hard, but it's maybe the right word is challenging. I live in one of the biggest cities in the world. A city with the most children in foster care at any given moment out of all the US, but I can’t find one Christian, affordable babysitter or daycare near my job or between my job and my house? It boggles my mind, but I know at the end of the day or rather this period God’s plan will be fully revealed and Jory will be right where the Lord wants him to be.
Homeschooling for the 9 to 5 working mom ain’t cheap that’s for sure. But I’m okay with that, I know God will provide because I’m doing what He’s calling me to do. He doesn’t always call the qualified, He qualifies the called. And I have definitely been called cause throwing Jory in a private school or free daycare aka what Ro has taught me to call public school, would make my life easier, a whole lot easier. But to quote Colin Raye, “Nobody said life is fair/We've all got a cross to bear…/Just think about him hangin' there”
Yep, the search is still on….
Did I sign up for this?
I’m rinsing off toothbrushes while Rowan goes to the bathroom when I notice her use of the tissue paper. Really Rowan, you need a fourth of a roll in order to clean yourself really?!? So this led to a discussion about tissue paper use, how to make sure you’re clean, and other hygene related topics.
Then the baby came in and used one square of paper. Literally one square. Uh, really little girl?! So we had a discussion about how much toilet paper one should use.
Did I miss the part on having tissue paper discussions? I don’t remember that in the manual..
Then the baby came in and used one square of paper. Literally one square. Uh, really little girl?! So we had a discussion about how much toilet paper one should use.
Did I miss the part on having tissue paper discussions? I don’t remember that in the manual..
Brushing Teeth
For some reason, Rowan has decided she doesn’t like brushing her teeth. Well, she hasn’t come out and said it, but her actions say it loud and clear.
She use to be the one I could go to to show the others the proper way to brush, but now… Now she counts, but the toothbrush doesn’t move. And when you call her on it, she acts like she has the strength of someone with no muscle tone and brushes her teeth that way. Her brother and sister constantly tell me she’s not brushing to which she vehemently denies their claim. I think they are telling the truth and when she’s caught, she starts brushing her teeth when she hears me approaching.
So now I’m going to have to solve this problem two fold, though I don’t know where it all went so wrong. One, I’m going to have to put the smackdown. And two, I’m going to have to watch her like a hawk when she brushes. I’ll ignore the tears and the protests that she is doing it the right way.
She use to be the one I could go to to show the others the proper way to brush, but now… Now she counts, but the toothbrush doesn’t move. And when you call her on it, she acts like she has the strength of someone with no muscle tone and brushes her teeth that way. Her brother and sister constantly tell me she’s not brushing to which she vehemently denies their claim. I think they are telling the truth and when she’s caught, she starts brushing her teeth when she hears me approaching.
So now I’m going to have to solve this problem two fold, though I don’t know where it all went so wrong. One, I’m going to have to put the smackdown. And two, I’m going to have to watch her like a hawk when she brushes. I’ll ignore the tears and the protests that she is doing it the right way.
Swimming with babies
The baby shocked me. She didn’t cry when it was time to get into the water, a cute little trick she learned from her sister.
Mr. Will said, “Let’s get into the water.”
Layla picked up her kickboard, walked down the pool steps, gripped her kickboard, and kicked her way to Mr. Will without a single tear or complaint. Mr. Will had her do it again and she did it again perfectly.
Shocked is putting it mildly. The Herrington Swimming Olympic Team is forming right before my very eyes.
Mr. Will said, “Let’s get into the water.”
Layla picked up her kickboard, walked down the pool steps, gripped her kickboard, and kicked her way to Mr. Will without a single tear or complaint. Mr. Will had her do it again and she did it again perfectly.
Shocked is putting it mildly. The Herrington Swimming Olympic Team is forming right before my very eyes.
Not sure what to expect
My friend, Elisa, sent me an email about having an evening of prayer. I saw it was on a Friday night, SCORE! So I knew I could attend, I printed out directions from my job to her house and went about my business, never once thinking to ask what we were praying for.
When I got there, she told me we were praying for the AWANA group we were involved in, but I was the only one invited who showed up. So instead we chatted while I ate pizza about this and that and just had a great time hanging with each other. Then on a surprising note of the evening, she took out the Sonlight manual and asked, “Which of these Cores do you need and what books go with them?” I was so shocked, she walked me to her son’s room and started giving me books. I wasn’t expecting this. Didn’t ask for this, but she so generously gave to me. Science stuff, Sonlight stuff, penmenship stuff. God loves a cheerful giver and let me tell you, Elisa, was a cheerful giver. And after the giving, another mom remembered while getting her girls ready for bed about the evening of prayer and came over.
So we did in fact have a prayer time and fellowship time amongst the three of us. What an awesome night. It’s so great to fellowship with my sisters in Christ who are also moms, I wish I could do more of that and that I had more sisters with kids.
I wasn't sure what the evening was going to be about other than there was going to be some prayer and what I got was some awesome fellowship time and some much needed pray.
When I got there, she told me we were praying for the AWANA group we were involved in, but I was the only one invited who showed up. So instead we chatted while I ate pizza about this and that and just had a great time hanging with each other. Then on a surprising note of the evening, she took out the Sonlight manual and asked, “Which of these Cores do you need and what books go with them?” I was so shocked, she walked me to her son’s room and started giving me books. I wasn’t expecting this. Didn’t ask for this, but she so generously gave to me. Science stuff, Sonlight stuff, penmenship stuff. God loves a cheerful giver and let me tell you, Elisa, was a cheerful giver. And after the giving, another mom remembered while getting her girls ready for bed about the evening of prayer and came over.
So we did in fact have a prayer time and fellowship time amongst the three of us. What an awesome night. It’s so great to fellowship with my sisters in Christ who are also moms, I wish I could do more of that and that I had more sisters with kids.
I wasn't sure what the evening was going to be about other than there was going to be some prayer and what I got was some awesome fellowship time and some much needed pray.
God's blessings
Back in the early days of construction, I asked our then architect, now project manager, if he knew of anyone who homeschooled and he did. He gave me his friends’ names and an on-line relationship began between Tasha and I.
Any time I had a question, a worry, I could drop Tasha a line and she would answer and put a smile on my face. Over a week ago, I got an email from her and her friend saying they were gathering parents to pray for the beginning of the school year. I RSVP’d. Sunday came and I wasn’t sure if the kids could come so I left Rowan and Jory in the pool and a sleeping baby under Oma’s watchful eye.
I drove and drove and drove, who knew the 110 ended. I was a little nervous I had gone to far, but I kept driving and many miles later I arrived at my destination. I knocked on the front door once, then more forceful the second time and a woman opened the door with a baby in hand.
“Yash?” the woman asked.
“Yes, are you Tasha?” I asked.
She nodded and hugged me.
If I could have imagined a Tasha, I would imagine her. Beautiful with a smile and kind face.
She introduced me to other parents who were homeschooling, one family for the first time also. Not to toot my own horn, but I felt like I was little beyond the first time homeschoolers. I’ve had a year to let the idea that I was homeschooling gel and settle within me, but oh how when they talked I remembered feeling what they were feeling. Being in that position of this overwhelming world of homeschooling.
We all came together and shared how we got to this point in homeschooling, then we shared prayer request and then we prayed for each other. When it was my turn to pray, I started crying, which I rarely do. I was so overcome, to be in a group of people who were homeschooling, to be with other believers who heard the call to homeschool, I was just humbled and blown away once again by God’s greatestness and how He brings His people together in His perfect time. God is so good. And He’s always, always, always working. Oh how He loves us. And how He sends the right people in our lives at the right time. I’ve been very blessed to have Tasha in my life. And I was very blessed to be included in this prayer group.
Any time I had a question, a worry, I could drop Tasha a line and she would answer and put a smile on my face. Over a week ago, I got an email from her and her friend saying they were gathering parents to pray for the beginning of the school year. I RSVP’d. Sunday came and I wasn’t sure if the kids could come so I left Rowan and Jory in the pool and a sleeping baby under Oma’s watchful eye.
I drove and drove and drove, who knew the 110 ended. I was a little nervous I had gone to far, but I kept driving and many miles later I arrived at my destination. I knocked on the front door once, then more forceful the second time and a woman opened the door with a baby in hand.
“Yash?” the woman asked.
“Yes, are you Tasha?” I asked.
She nodded and hugged me.
If I could have imagined a Tasha, I would imagine her. Beautiful with a smile and kind face.
She introduced me to other parents who were homeschooling, one family for the first time also. Not to toot my own horn, but I felt like I was little beyond the first time homeschoolers. I’ve had a year to let the idea that I was homeschooling gel and settle within me, but oh how when they talked I remembered feeling what they were feeling. Being in that position of this overwhelming world of homeschooling.
We all came together and shared how we got to this point in homeschooling, then we shared prayer request and then we prayed for each other. When it was my turn to pray, I started crying, which I rarely do. I was so overcome, to be in a group of people who were homeschooling, to be with other believers who heard the call to homeschool, I was just humbled and blown away once again by God’s greatestness and how He brings His people together in His perfect time. God is so good. And He’s always, always, always working. Oh how He loves us. And how He sends the right people in our lives at the right time. I’ve been very blessed to have Tasha in my life. And I was very blessed to be included in this prayer group.
Insane in the membrane
When did it become cool to gag? Rowan gags all the time now when her teeth our brushed. Okay all the time is a little overboard, but whenever I’m brushing her backteeth she starts gagging. How can you be chocking when someone is watching your back molars? The molars aren’t down her throat. Is she kidding me? Is this another one of her plots to slowly drive me mad? If so, it is sort of working.
She starts gagging two seconds after I start brushing her back teeth.
“Stop gagging,” I say frustrated.
“You’re choking me,” she answers.
“I’m not chocking you.”
Are you serious?!?! When did she start having teethbrushing issues? She was always the good brusher, but obviously those days are behind us for now and instead Operation Drive Mommy crazy is in full effect.
She starts gagging two seconds after I start brushing her back teeth.
“Stop gagging,” I say frustrated.
“You’re choking me,” she answers.
“I’m not chocking you.”
Are you serious?!?! When did she start having teethbrushing issues? She was always the good brusher, but obviously those days are behind us for now and instead Operation Drive Mommy crazy is in full effect.
This Summer
This has been a crazy summer. In the beginning, it wasn’t so crazy. The kids had themes, the girls matched on some days or at least wore the same colors, even though Layla was staying home with Aunt Brenda and Rowan was going to school. But as the construction in the house went on and on, I gave up.
For the first time since I became a mother, there were no themes. The kids could pick out whatever they wanted to wear every single day. And I didn’t pick up the iron once.
It was like or rather it’s like we’re living in bizzaro world. What Jory’s striped red shorts don’t match his white and orange checkered shirt, oh well if that’s what he wants to wear then so be it. I’ve become a person I don’t even recognize.
For the first time since I became a mother, there were no themes. The kids could pick out whatever they wanted to wear every single day. And I didn’t pick up the iron once.
It was like or rather it’s like we’re living in bizzaro world. What Jory’s striped red shorts don’t match his white and orange checkered shirt, oh well if that’s what he wants to wear then so be it. I’ve become a person I don’t even recognize.
The things said in Home Depot
“She has a big booty,” the baby said, sitting in the cart in Home Depot.
Jory and Rowan start giggling.
What did she just say?!?!
“Layla, what did you just say?” I asked, not believing my ears.
“She said that lady had a big- - “ Jory chimed in.
“That’s enough. You don’t need to repeat it,” I informed my eldest. “Layla, was that nice to say?”
“No,” she answered.
“Okay then, let’s not say anything like that again. Alright?”
“Okay.”
I did look back and the woman definitely had some junk in the trunk. So the baby was telling the truth, but why did she know that? And how did she know that?
Jory and Rowan start giggling.
What did she just say?!?!
“Layla, what did you just say?” I asked, not believing my ears.
“She said that lady had a big- - “ Jory chimed in.
“That’s enough. You don’t need to repeat it,” I informed my eldest. “Layla, was that nice to say?”
“No,” she answered.
“Okay then, let’s not say anything like that again. Alright?”
“Okay.”
I did look back and the woman definitely had some junk in the trunk. So the baby was telling the truth, but why did she know that? And how did she know that?
The Search is still on...
I figured yesterday was a one-off and today’s daycare visit would be different. I talked to both the women who owned the daycare and I liked them both. The first woman said she had considered homeschooling her own children, until she found a good school, so she thought it was cool that I was doing it. She even said since Jory was six, she didn’t need to charge me the rate she charges parents with newborns and could her weekly fee in half. Wow! This woman was impressing and was within my price range, I made an appointment to come check out her facilities and said goodbye.
Her house was on the exact same street I travel down to get to San Vincente. Score! I found her house and drove slowly down her street looking for her house. I saw a house with a fence held together by some rope and dirt in the front yard. My stomach dropped. A woman waved to me from the porch and I knew that yard belonged to the house I was going into. I sat in the car for a few more minutes to finish my phone conversation with my friend, Ro, and also to give myself a chance not to be Judgy McJudgy as Whitney likes to say.
I got out the car and met the two women who own the daycare. The one, I deemed, the talker, saw me looking at the yard and explained the yard had been filled with trees and tree service companies wanted her to pay $2,000 per tree to cut each tree down, which she couldn’t afford. But a friend, in the business, agreed to charge them $1,500 to cut all the trees down, unfortunately when he was cutting one tree down, it broke through the rope and crashed into the fence. The talker felt it was a small price to pay for the money they were saving and their friend had agreed to weld the new iron pieces into the remaining fence free of charge. She also said they were planning on putting a playground in the yard now that it was treeless.
We walked into the house. It smelled fresh and looked clean. The talker out of the two began explaining that her mom ran a daycare for years where she worked and where she met her partner. Partner, as in partner partner or as in partner partner? She said her mother encouraged the two to start their own daycare. She explained her schedule, their cleaning schedule, her parenting philosophy, then all of sudden I saw the neighbor’s dog, I had seen when I got out my car, run across the porch chasing after a cat, then all this barking started.
The talker said, oh those are my Yorkies. Animals?!? Really?! I thought yesterday was a one-off, but obviously not. She went into the bedroom, stepping over the babygate and brought out to Yorkies. She held them and calmed them down, but the booming barking didn’t stop. I wondered if the neighbors were home to quiet their dog, when the talker explained that the barking I was hearing was from her Great Dane, William, who lives on the side of the house. He’s a gentle giant, but they don’t’ let him around the kids because he was 180 pounds and sort of clumsy. So what they had their own real life Clifford? Are you serious? Two Yorkies and a Great Dane. I took a deep breath and answered the talker’s questions about why I was homeschooling.
I answered her questions. We discussed what I wanted. The non-talker finally piped in and shared her thoughts. Then the talker made mention of the non-talker’s giving heart. How she took care of her bedridden aunt, how their single mom friend’s apartment had been flooded and had stayed with them from November to April, how their other single mom friend rented rooms for herself and her two kids. The non-talker’s kindness was apparent, but my goodness was this Victorian style house a half-way house or Grand Central Station? The stories continued about other ways the non-talker helped others.
As the talker was talking I was thinking, if I had met these two outside of this place we would probably be friends and the business of their lives wouldn’t seem like such a big deal, but not knowing them this place just seemed really busy to me.
We talked churches and they said they attended Agape in Culver City. Hmm, was that a church church or was that a “God is good. God is love” church where we only focus on all things positive in the Bible? The talker explained she and the non-talker became roommates, after the talker’s divorce, and that they don’t bring boyfriends or allow men friends around their daycare. Okay, one question answered.
The talker brought out her children and introduced them to me. She shared with me her morning routine and bedtime routines. I was listening intently until the non-talker distracted me with her fiddling with the window. The talker noticed and said, oh that’s just my cat. She has a cat? The talker continued. She use to be an indoor cat, but one day the screen in my bedroom fell off and the next thing I knew, she jumped up to the window and then went out of it and since then she’s been an indoor/outdoor cat. Oh happy, happy, joy, joy! And my second cat- - oh there’s another cat, this just keeps getting better. One of our moms found the kitten outside in our bushes when it was raining in June, the non-talker wanted the mom to take the kitten home. I liked this non-talker. But the mom said she already had three cats and a dog at home, so she couldn’t take it, so the talker added her, which they later discovered was a him, to their collection of animals.
So a Great Dane aka Clifford the Big Red Dog that lived on the side of the house, the two cats that lived in and out, and the two Yorkies, I so don’t understand God’s sense of humor.
Then the talker started discussing her mother and I must have had my Chi Chi face on, because she shared stuff that you just don’t share with a woman you’ve just met. She even said, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. The non-talker nodded in agreement. Then their friend’s son knocked on the door with skateboard in hand and asked, “My mom wanted to know if we could borrow a stick of butter.” My heart melted. I was in the middle of some zany 1950s sitcom. They didn’t have a stick, but the non-talker put some butter in some tupperwear and handed it to him, along with a pan they had borrowed from his mother. The talker told me they didn’t babysit the skateboarder, but they did watch his younger siblings and when he got out of school though he would skateboard in front of their house and on their street. So, yes, you are sort of babysitting him, but you're not gotcha.
This was all a lot to take in so as the skateboarder skated away, I thought this was the perfect time to leave also. I thanked them for their time. The talker said if I wanted to try their daycare center out for a day or two for Jory, they wouldn’t charge me. I thanked her again and said I would keep it in mind as I got into my car.
Yeah, I feel like the search for the perfect babysitter is still on…
Her house was on the exact same street I travel down to get to San Vincente. Score! I found her house and drove slowly down her street looking for her house. I saw a house with a fence held together by some rope and dirt in the front yard. My stomach dropped. A woman waved to me from the porch and I knew that yard belonged to the house I was going into. I sat in the car for a few more minutes to finish my phone conversation with my friend, Ro, and also to give myself a chance not to be Judgy McJudgy as Whitney likes to say.
I got out the car and met the two women who own the daycare. The one, I deemed, the talker, saw me looking at the yard and explained the yard had been filled with trees and tree service companies wanted her to pay $2,000 per tree to cut each tree down, which she couldn’t afford. But a friend, in the business, agreed to charge them $1,500 to cut all the trees down, unfortunately when he was cutting one tree down, it broke through the rope and crashed into the fence. The talker felt it was a small price to pay for the money they were saving and their friend had agreed to weld the new iron pieces into the remaining fence free of charge. She also said they were planning on putting a playground in the yard now that it was treeless.
We walked into the house. It smelled fresh and looked clean. The talker out of the two began explaining that her mom ran a daycare for years where she worked and where she met her partner. Partner, as in partner partner or as in partner partner? She said her mother encouraged the two to start their own daycare. She explained her schedule, their cleaning schedule, her parenting philosophy, then all of sudden I saw the neighbor’s dog, I had seen when I got out my car, run across the porch chasing after a cat, then all this barking started.
The talker said, oh those are my Yorkies. Animals?!? Really?! I thought yesterday was a one-off, but obviously not. She went into the bedroom, stepping over the babygate and brought out to Yorkies. She held them and calmed them down, but the booming barking didn’t stop. I wondered if the neighbors were home to quiet their dog, when the talker explained that the barking I was hearing was from her Great Dane, William, who lives on the side of the house. He’s a gentle giant, but they don’t’ let him around the kids because he was 180 pounds and sort of clumsy. So what they had their own real life Clifford? Are you serious? Two Yorkies and a Great Dane. I took a deep breath and answered the talker’s questions about why I was homeschooling.
I answered her questions. We discussed what I wanted. The non-talker finally piped in and shared her thoughts. Then the talker made mention of the non-talker’s giving heart. How she took care of her bedridden aunt, how their single mom friend’s apartment had been flooded and had stayed with them from November to April, how their other single mom friend rented rooms for herself and her two kids. The non-talker’s kindness was apparent, but my goodness was this Victorian style house a half-way house or Grand Central Station? The stories continued about other ways the non-talker helped others.
As the talker was talking I was thinking, if I had met these two outside of this place we would probably be friends and the business of their lives wouldn’t seem like such a big deal, but not knowing them this place just seemed really busy to me.
We talked churches and they said they attended Agape in Culver City. Hmm, was that a church church or was that a “God is good. God is love” church where we only focus on all things positive in the Bible? The talker explained she and the non-talker became roommates, after the talker’s divorce, and that they don’t bring boyfriends or allow men friends around their daycare. Okay, one question answered.
The talker brought out her children and introduced them to me. She shared with me her morning routine and bedtime routines. I was listening intently until the non-talker distracted me with her fiddling with the window. The talker noticed and said, oh that’s just my cat. She has a cat? The talker continued. She use to be an indoor cat, but one day the screen in my bedroom fell off and the next thing I knew, she jumped up to the window and then went out of it and since then she’s been an indoor/outdoor cat. Oh happy, happy, joy, joy! And my second cat- - oh there’s another cat, this just keeps getting better. One of our moms found the kitten outside in our bushes when it was raining in June, the non-talker wanted the mom to take the kitten home. I liked this non-talker. But the mom said she already had three cats and a dog at home, so she couldn’t take it, so the talker added her, which they later discovered was a him, to their collection of animals.
So a Great Dane aka Clifford the Big Red Dog that lived on the side of the house, the two cats that lived in and out, and the two Yorkies, I so don’t understand God’s sense of humor.
Then the talker started discussing her mother and I must have had my Chi Chi face on, because she shared stuff that you just don’t share with a woman you’ve just met. She even said, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. The non-talker nodded in agreement. Then their friend’s son knocked on the door with skateboard in hand and asked, “My mom wanted to know if we could borrow a stick of butter.” My heart melted. I was in the middle of some zany 1950s sitcom. They didn’t have a stick, but the non-talker put some butter in some tupperwear and handed it to him, along with a pan they had borrowed from his mother. The talker told me they didn’t babysit the skateboarder, but they did watch his younger siblings and when he got out of school though he would skateboard in front of their house and on their street. So, yes, you are sort of babysitting him, but you're not gotcha.
This was all a lot to take in so as the skateboarder skated away, I thought this was the perfect time to leave also. I thanked them for their time. The talker said if I wanted to try their daycare center out for a day or two for Jory, they wouldn’t charge me. I thanked her again and said I would keep it in mind as I got into my car.
Yeah, I feel like the search for the perfect babysitter is still on…
The Search Begins...
I tried various ways to look for a babysitter or stay-at-home mom who could watch Jory. I put the word out to everyone I knew. I looked into the cost for a nanny and discovered they make more money then me. I went to babysitting/nanny websites and discovered those people too make more money than me. But I wasn’t discouraged, I knew somewhere out there was the woman meant to watch Jory.
Earlier this summer, I thought I had found the right woman. The only downside I saw was how to get Jory to her house. Only in LA did a house that was 4.89 miles from my job take 20 to 30 minutes to get to during rush hour. At the end, I trusted God would work out that detail and emailed the woman. She emailed me back and at $700 every two weeks, I unfortunately couldn’t afford to hire her. So back to the drawing board I went. I checked local newspapers, went to the park, the library, grocery stores, looking for anyone who was babysitting and nothing. I went to Craigslist and looked through their childcare section.
I came upon a woman who said she lived near my job. I called her up and made an appointment to see her a few days later. The day of I called when I was leaving work and she told me to park on the side street and not in the liquor store parking lot. I try not to judge, but hearing the words don’t park in the liquor star parking lot sent off warning bells. She said she lived on Melrose near Highland . There’s houses in Melrose I thought, but I followed her directions. I drove slowly on the lookout for her house, I see businesses, but I don’t see a house. I passed a liquor store, so I knew the house had to be close by. I turned at the nearest corner and found a park. Walking around the block, I see a house set back off the street in between two businesses. Since it was on a busy street like Melrose , the yard was tiny, but still I didn’t see an address, but I did see children’s toys on the miniscule porch so I figured I was in the right place.
I knocked and a dark haired woman appearing to be in her 50s with a nice size pink bow on the front of her head answered the door and invited me inside. Two things hit me, a smell I couldn’t identify and the barking of the dog. She told me that the dog stayed in the room because sometimes the dog or the children become too excitable to be around each other.
The daycare provider was a nice woman. She showed me around her place and introduced me to the two children she was currently watching. The children’s playroom wasn’t big, but it was very neat. Then she took me to the yard. I was surprised the house had a yard. When she showed the yard which contained one of those Playskool slides and three feet of walking space, I knew the house didn’t really have a yard to speak of.
We headed back to the living room where I saw a grey cat on the sofa and a black and white one on the desk chair. She has cats. Okay, and a dog. Okay, I’m not an animal lover, but Jory likes Bubbles and other animals and I won’t impose my views on him. I can handle this, I thought.
I noticed a stain on the brown carpet in the living room and she noticed my eye movement. She told me she lived down the road and her landlord was foreclosed on so she only had 60 days to find a new place to live. Keeping all daycare children's parents in mind, she tried to look for a new place in the area. I was touched that with only 60 days to find a new place to live, she kept the needs of her parents in mind. One day on a walk, she found her current place and fell in love. She said it was bigger than her old place. I found that hard to believe. Could some place be smaller than the place she was currently in?
She said she loved hear the traffic all day and her dream would be to live in the middle of Manhattan. I thought if you love traffic and noise at all times of the night, you should move to Saigon, but I didn't share that thought with her. Continuing she informed me, the owner of her new home had put down the brown carpet right before she moved in and was very proud of it so she was hestitant to tell him that brown carpet didn't really fit her lifestyle of a daycare and a zoo.
The woman told me the kids had the run of the house and they took a nap in her bed. Take naps in her bed?!?! Really?!?! Yeah, that’s a whole other level of intimacy that, yeah. I’m not down with that. I told her Jory didn’t take naps, which he doesn’t. We talked schedules and I got the feeling that she didn’t really want me to hire her because she didn’t want to be tied down five days a week. All of her other children were part-time and she took drop-ins so she was happy and obviously made enough money to keep it that way.
As we talked, she mentioned that once she was at work and her roommate called her to tell her that her newly adopted cat just had kittens under her bed. A few days later, she took her male cat to be spayed, but someone forgot to tell her the male cat can still impregnate up to three months after the procedure. So a few months later, her female cat was pregnant once again. She took her cat sadly to the vet and aborted the unborn kittens.
I wondered, why is she telling me this story. Do I have an “I love animals” sign on me? Because I don’t. I don’t like animals, of any kind. Maybe this was her way of making conversation, I wasn’t sure, but as I turned to leave out of the corner of my eye I saw something. Wow, that black and white cat moved quickly from the desk chair, oh wait- - the cat didn’t move, that’s another cat. I turned and saw another cat. One cat, two cats, three cats, four cats. She told me the story because she kept all the kittens her cat had and now they were grown cats. I counted four but there could be more. Four cats and a dog. And the smell I smelled was the house being closed up, I’m sure to keep the house cool, but also it was the smell of possibly five animals maybe more.
Yeah, I can’t do this. Jory can’t do this. She doesn’t want to do this. Score! Win all around. She kindly told me to keep in touch and suggested a few places I could look, then we parted ways.
And the search for the perfect babysitter continues….
Earlier this summer, I thought I had found the right woman. The only downside I saw was how to get Jory to her house. Only in LA did a house that was 4.89 miles from my job take 20 to 30 minutes to get to during rush hour. At the end, I trusted God would work out that detail and emailed the woman. She emailed me back and at $700 every two weeks, I unfortunately couldn’t afford to hire her. So back to the drawing board I went. I checked local newspapers, went to the park, the library, grocery stores, looking for anyone who was babysitting and nothing. I went to Craigslist and looked through their childcare section.
I came upon a woman who said she lived near my job. I called her up and made an appointment to see her a few days later. The day of I called when I was leaving work and she told me to park on the side street and not in the liquor store parking lot. I try not to judge, but hearing the words don’t park in the liquor star parking lot sent off warning bells. She said she lived on Melrose near Highland . There’s houses in Melrose I thought, but I followed her directions. I drove slowly on the lookout for her house, I see businesses, but I don’t see a house. I passed a liquor store, so I knew the house had to be close by. I turned at the nearest corner and found a park. Walking around the block, I see a house set back off the street in between two businesses. Since it was on a busy street like Melrose , the yard was tiny, but still I didn’t see an address, but I did see children’s toys on the miniscule porch so I figured I was in the right place.
I knocked and a dark haired woman appearing to be in her 50s with a nice size pink bow on the front of her head answered the door and invited me inside. Two things hit me, a smell I couldn’t identify and the barking of the dog. She told me that the dog stayed in the room because sometimes the dog or the children become too excitable to be around each other.
The daycare provider was a nice woman. She showed me around her place and introduced me to the two children she was currently watching. The children’s playroom wasn’t big, but it was very neat. Then she took me to the yard. I was surprised the house had a yard. When she showed the yard which contained one of those Playskool slides and three feet of walking space, I knew the house didn’t really have a yard to speak of.
We headed back to the living room where I saw a grey cat on the sofa and a black and white one on the desk chair. She has cats. Okay, and a dog. Okay, I’m not an animal lover, but Jory likes Bubbles and other animals and I won’t impose my views on him. I can handle this, I thought.
I noticed a stain on the brown carpet in the living room and she noticed my eye movement. She told me she lived down the road and her landlord was foreclosed on so she only had 60 days to find a new place to live. Keeping all daycare children's parents in mind, she tried to look for a new place in the area. I was touched that with only 60 days to find a new place to live, she kept the needs of her parents in mind. One day on a walk, she found her current place and fell in love. She said it was bigger than her old place. I found that hard to believe. Could some place be smaller than the place she was currently in?
She said she loved hear the traffic all day and her dream would be to live in the middle of Manhattan. I thought if you love traffic and noise at all times of the night, you should move to Saigon, but I didn't share that thought with her. Continuing she informed me, the owner of her new home had put down the brown carpet right before she moved in and was very proud of it so she was hestitant to tell him that brown carpet didn't really fit her lifestyle of a daycare and a zoo.
The woman told me the kids had the run of the house and they took a nap in her bed. Take naps in her bed?!?! Really?!?! Yeah, that’s a whole other level of intimacy that, yeah. I’m not down with that. I told her Jory didn’t take naps, which he doesn’t. We talked schedules and I got the feeling that she didn’t really want me to hire her because she didn’t want to be tied down five days a week. All of her other children were part-time and she took drop-ins so she was happy and obviously made enough money to keep it that way.
As we talked, she mentioned that once she was at work and her roommate called her to tell her that her newly adopted cat just had kittens under her bed. A few days later, she took her male cat to be spayed, but someone forgot to tell her the male cat can still impregnate up to three months after the procedure. So a few months later, her female cat was pregnant once again. She took her cat sadly to the vet and aborted the unborn kittens.
I wondered, why is she telling me this story. Do I have an “I love animals” sign on me? Because I don’t. I don’t like animals, of any kind. Maybe this was her way of making conversation, I wasn’t sure, but as I turned to leave out of the corner of my eye I saw something. Wow, that black and white cat moved quickly from the desk chair, oh wait- - the cat didn’t move, that’s another cat. I turned and saw another cat. One cat, two cats, three cats, four cats. She told me the story because she kept all the kittens her cat had and now they were grown cats. I counted four but there could be more. Four cats and a dog. And the smell I smelled was the house being closed up, I’m sure to keep the house cool, but also it was the smell of possibly five animals maybe more.
Yeah, I can’t do this. Jory can’t do this. She doesn’t want to do this. Score! Win all around. She kindly told me to keep in touch and suggested a few places I could look, then we parted ways.
And the search for the perfect babysitter continues….
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