Has it really been seven years since I first picked you up out of your green and blue car seat? Seven years since I heard your Oma say to a crying you, "Don't cry. Your mommy is coming with your bottle." And I looked around wondering who she was talking about? Oh, that was me. I was the mommy. I was your mommy.
I held you in my arms and said, "Kaleb," and you gave me a blank stare. Then I said, "Julien." I got another blank stare. So much for the theory of looking at your child, then naming him depending on what he looked like. You looked like a Kaleb. You looked like a Julien. But really you looked like a Jory. That's what you had been called since before I knew you existed and that was who you were. Strange to think that when I started my fost/adopt classes; your birth mother might not have even known she was pregnant with you. But you were in there, growing, waiting to make your appearance one early Christmas morning.
I remember the baby who had me up at 1 and 2AM and got us watching not only Conan, but later Pope John Paul II death watch. I learned more than I ever thought I would about Pope John Paul II. And how Auntie Heather found a Catholic station on the web so we could know when a new Pope was chosen. And how for a while there you were this close to having the middle name John-Benedict. Yep, I was that impressed with Pope Benedict XVI.
And how I almost had you baptized in a Catholic church because any male baptized Catholic would be in the running for Pope. Yes, the last Pope chosen from amongst laymen was in the 1300s, but still there was a chance. And how awesome would that have been to say at a dinner party (cause Mommy goes to so many of those), “Oh Jory, what’s he up to? Oh, he’s the Pope. Pope John-Benedict I” SCORE! I mean that would have been after you married, had kids, and were widowed. It would have been awesome to say, “My son’s the Pope.” But I didn’t because I didn’t think it would be fair to change a two, three-month-old’s name so your named remained unchanged, but your brother’s middle name will definitely be John-Benedict.
I remember the four-month-old who gave me my first heart attack. I woke up and knew something was wrong. My precious baby boy was dead from SIDS. I hopped out of bed, leaned over your crib, put my hand underneath your nose and felt nothing. I put my hand to your chest. Thankfully it was still beating. You weren’t dead, you had just slept the whole night for the first time ever. Amazing how I had slept for decades the whole night through, yet in only four months you let me do it once and I wake up convinced my greatest fear had come true. Oh the power you hold over me little boy.
I remember the eleven-month-old who spent his first Black Friday in Aunt Whitney’s Mustang (man, I miss the Cherokee still). Darting here and there because our whole family was out shopping, except for Oma who had to work. You were such a trooper. You even learned to perfect your walk on the baby and toy aisles of the Culver City TJ Maxx while Auntie Mona and Aunt Lavonia bought every pink and purple outfit they could find for the long awaited girl child Auntie Mona was having. You went from 4AM to 10PM that day and if I hadn’t already been madly in love with you then, this day would have sealed it forever for me.
I remember the seventeen-month-old who drove me crazy by calling me "Ash" instead of mommy though whenever you played or talked to someone else you referred to me as mommy. I waited my whole life to be called mommy and there you were saying "Ash," then giggling hysterically afterwards. You knew you were wrong. I was confounded, I was happy and thought for safety reasons it was good for you to know my first name, but on the other hand that wasn't what you were suppose to call me. Thank God that sorted itself out.
I remember the potty training toddler who would put on his own jacket then his little Rugrats backpack filled with a change of clothes, a small Tupperware bowl full of cheerios, and your sippy cup.
I remember the boy who was and is in love with all boy things....cars, trucks, trains, planes. Thank you for making shopping for you so easily.
I am in love with the little boy who opened his heart and his arms to his sisters. The eighteen-month-old who would find a pacifier, a blanket, or a bottle whenever he heard Willow crying. Granted, you had to suck the pacifier first though it only took one suck on her formula filled bottle for you to learn to carry her bottle in your hand and not in your mouth. (Funny how tastes change so quickly, six months before that was all you had for a year.) And you would always drag her blanket across the floor. Maybe it was too heavy for you to carry?
I remember the little boy who would give me heart attacks when he picked up Sasha after hearing her tiny preemie cry. I couldn't scream in case you dropped her, but yikes those steps to rescue her out of your tiny two-year-old arms were the longest steps of my life.
The little boy who loved his sister Sasha, lost her, and years later asked me, "Why did you give my sister away?" Oh how my heart broke to hear you ask me that. And later it dawned on me that you didn't realize that the little girl we saw once a year was Sasha. It never hit me that you didn't recognize the little girl you played with, she looked exactly the same. I guess you weren't use to Sasha being a big girl who walked and talked and played.
I remember the little boy who called Rowan, Sasha, and made my heart stopped, then I looked at the laughter in your eyes and the grin on your face. You had gotten me good with that joke. Unlike Uncle LC, you could see that Rowan wasn't a plumper, darker Sasha.
I love the little boy who didn’t bat an eye when Layla came home, though you did smile when you asked, “Sasha?”
I remember the boy who cried the Tuesday after Labor Day, your very first day of school, until Thanksgiving. Every day I dropped you off you cried. If you had had a weaker mother, I probably would have caved, but unfortunately for you there are bits of Oma in me and they pop up at will. Plus Mrs. Wilson would tell me that by the time I closed the gate, you had stopped crying. You little con artist.
I love the little boy who hugs me when he thinks I might be crying and tells me, “It’s okay, Mommy. It’s okay.” I love the boy who says, “I love you,” randomly and without warning. The little boy who tries to act nonchalantly when I’m showering him with praise over something awesome he’s done or learned.
I love the boy who loves cruises and thinks the Space Needle is the neatest thing ever. (Who knew that place made such an impression on you?) I love the boy who remembers that a van picked us up to take us to the ship when we were going to Hawaii. I love the little boy who told his sisters that when they got on the cruise they could sit in the Jacuzzi. I love that you knew cruising means sitting in the Jacuzzi for mommy and reading. I could cry I love you so much.
I love the little boy who said, “Mommy, your favorite show is on. Come here.”
I followed you into Oma’s cabin to look at her TV. I saw forest and people, but I wasn’t sure what exactly I was watching.
“Mommy, it’s Merlin.”
I get verklempt just thinking about that. That you knew that I loved Merlin, which means some of those late nights you weren’t really asleep and you were secretly watching it over my shoulder and from my side, my thoughtful, observant boy. And no the show was Harry Potter, not Merlin, but I could see how the two could be mistaken. British accents, forest scenes, magic going on, same, same.
I love the little boy who has me spending every Christmas Eve at Chuck E. Cheese celebrating his birthday.
I love the little boy who so easily puts his hand in mine and makes my heart stop. How did God see fit to bless me so much that I’m your mommy? And that for the last seven years I have had that title and will have it until the day He calls me home.
I am madly in love with the boy who has his sisters' backs and holds their hands as we cross the street or parking lots. The boy who loves to push their stroller and thinks of them when he’s buying things or getting treats.
When I was a little kid, I always pretended that my first child was a boy so he could be his sisters' protector, he could have look out for them and they could look up to him. Baby boy, thank you for turning my imaginary play fantasies into reality. Forgive me for those years when I wanted my first to be a girl. Thank you God for not answering that prayer of giving me a girl first because I might not have ever experienced this absolute joy of being a mommy to a boy. And not just any boy, but my boy, my Jory. Seven December 30ths ago on an early afternoon on, I became your mommy and you became my son. Seven of the greatest years of my life.
Jory, you are always in my heart, in my thoughts, and my prayers. I pray that you will always grow in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I love you, Jory! Thanks for the last seven years and for all the years we have to look forward to together.
Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Happy Gotcha Day, Layla!
Once a year Amal stand up in church and says, “God is awesome!” and then says, “Six years and one day ago I met my wife for the first time. Six years ago today, I married her.” Amal and his wife were brought together in an arranged marriage that is still going strong and now includes two sons. When I hear him say that, I think of you, Baby. We had our own arranged relationship.
One mid-August evening, I said, yes, I would accept the referral of a healthy baby girl. Right before Labor Day, I accepted the referral of you. There was a little switch done in those two weeks bye-bye mid-June Layla, hello winter born Layla. I looked at the photos that Cheryl and Dick sent, looked at the photos that Lina’s aunt kindly took about two weeks before we met for the first time; so I knew what you looked like, but you had no idea I was coming or even who I was.
I remember leaving the airport and heading directly to your orphanage, no stopping by the hotel to drop our luggage off. I remember how happy and smiley James and Ben seemed, while you had no expression and then finally started crying being held by a woman who smelled different, looked different, sounded different, and felt different than anyone you had ever known.
“Nancy, Layla can walk,” I said in amazement on seeing you for the second time.
“Yash, that’s not Layla,” she replied.
Oh snap! Your new mommy didn’t recognize you. I’m so sorry about that though in my defense if someone had put eight brown baby boys in front of me an hour after Jory came home or eight biracial girls after the hour I first spend with Rowan, I wouldn’t have recognized either of them. If eight newborn brown girls were placed in front of your Oma, as she lay in her hospital bed at St. John’s, after her drugs wore off, she wouldn’t have been able to pick me out either. So see it’s not so horrible I couldn’t tell the difference between you and the walking girl. Recognization comes with spending time together and bonding. That wouldn’t happen now I could recognize your cry in a room full of kids. And you of course would definitely make it clear to all that I was and am your mommy.
When they handed you to me that December 30th morning and we got in the van, I had no idea what the future had in store. I had no idea what it would really mean to be the mommy of three kids, two of whom were Irish twins.
One February night, on a California King sized bed two bawling one-year-olds fresh out of the bathe. The eldest of the twins crying because she was sick and just wanted to be held by mommy. The younger of the twins crying because sometimes that’s just what one-year-olds do. I tried to calm them, comfort them, while working as quickly as possible to get them dressed and ready for bed. Nothing was working. I was about to lose my mind. Who do I try to talk to, the one-year-old or the one-year-old? Who would understand the words that were coming out of my mouth? I decided to go with the oldest of the two; I figured the oldest had been hearing the English language for the last year of her life while the younger had only been hearing it for the last four weeks.
“I know you don’t feel good, big girl. Let me get Layla dressed and put her to bed, then mommy can hold you, okay?” I asked, begged, pleaded. It was then and there that I knew three was the loveliest number of children to have ever. Good-bye Jack, it was nice imagining having you, but the reality was three kids had a lovely ring to it, four sounded CRAZY.
I quickly put the baby to bed, then held and cradled my big girl. Twinland was no walk in the park.
That story seems so long ago, yet it was merely three years ago. We’ve come a long way since then. Images of Jack have popped back up. A smart woman by the name of Jamie said that if you’re thinking of another that means you are finding or have a comfortable routine with the kids you already have. I think she’s on to something.
Snoop once said, “The game is to be sold, not to be told.” Baby, if you sold your game, I’d have no problem purchasing five tickets on the 120 day around the world cruise. The family suite with a balcony at that, with plenty of spending money and money left over.
You were christened “Baby” by your brother and it caught on. And oh boy, do you live up to that title. This game you run, you know the one where the neurons stop firing 60% of the time you are outdoors and like 99.9% of the time when you are at a mall or a store and there’s no basket or stroller for you. The neurons stop firing and you know longer no how to walk or use your arms and hands. Sometimes you have a bit of firing power to allow you to walk backwards, impeding my steps and for you to reach your arms upward while crying, “Mommy! Mommy!”
You are seemingly able to make your brain to stop sending messages to other parts of your body for minutes, even hours at a time, it’s insane. They stop firing and to keep it really real, you nonchalantly turn around in the bathroom for me to clean you because your arms and hands aren’t working. On most occasions messages get from your brain to your mouth so you say, you’re finished eating, yet there is still a bunch of food on your plate. So I offer you another bite and you take it, and the one after that, and the one after that, and so I’m feeding you because once again your arms don’t work, but your mouth does. I do wonder how we got to this point.
Your brother, sister, Oma, and I have all contributed to get us here. And I will give you your due, you play your game well, but you know when to back off, like when we went to the place where the anti-Christ lives called Disneyland. My first birthday spent with you and us together as a great foursome, you threw up in the poinsettias while we were standing in the Dumbo line. After making sure you were okay and seeing you recover just fine and dandy, I gave you a look which translated to: Mommy, did not wake up everyone early on her birthday and day off, drive to the other side of the moon, to come to this place that she vows to come to once a decade for you to get sick. I will call Aunt Dee Dee right now and ask her or one of the girls to come get you and babysit you until we meet up for dinner at Islands. You looked back at me and agreed with your own stipulation that you couldn’t walk or sit in the stroller for the rest of the day.
We have come along way in the past four years. Actually it’s been longer than that; it’s been since 2002 when I started my journey for you. Who knew back then it would take nearly seven years for you to come or that your nine month adoption would take twenty-one months? But all things in God’s perfect timing. He knew you weren’t meant to be the oldest. If you had come first, there would have been a strong chance you would have been the only. You were meant to be my precious baby. My darling baby girl, who can at times be smarter than her own good, is lovable, kissable, huggable, and the greatest baby any mommy could ever ask for.
At the wonderful Concordia, I was working on some religion or philosophy paper and I was talking to Auntie Heather about all the things God was. And she said, you should say He’s Omni Omni. That He is Omni-present, Omni-potent, omniscient. Even though I am a sinner, I’m weak, I come from dirt and to dirt I will one day return, He sent His only Son to die on the cross for my sins. He loved me enough to do that. He graciously saved me and gave me you. If I had a thousand tongues that thanked Him every second of every day it would never be enough.
On December 29, 2008, I wrote the lyrics to an Anointed song:
Every good thing I have done
Everything that I’ve become
Everything that’s turned out right
Is because You’re in my life
And if I ever teach a child the way
Ever learn myself to change
Ever become who I want to be
It’s not the I but the You in me
How those words still ring true back then, for now, and forever. God has been so loving, gracious, and merciful to allow me to be your mommy, to parent you, to spoil you. You might be the most spoilt baby I’ve ever met, though Auntie Mona might still disagree and say it was Sasha, but you’re a good kid even on those days, those moments when I see my mother in you. There are times that you act exactly as I imagined your Oma acted when she was a child. It’s eerie and scary. You leave me speechless at times.
“Layla, are you being nice?”
“No,” you cry with tears streaming down your face, which is nice to see because you have perfected the heart wrenching tearless cry.
“What did Jesus say? To love your neighbor as yourself, right? And what does that mean? That you treat people the way you want to be treated?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“So are you going to be nice now?”
“No.”
And I’m speechless. Uh, that’s not how this is supposed to go. That’s not the right answer. So Oma. So Layla.
You and your siblings have made my parenthood journey thus far better than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t have begun to ask for the terrific trio I’ve received. I know I should hug you more, kiss you more, say “I love you” more, point you to Christ more, yell less, threaten less, but there are moments when you make me want rip my hair out and send me running to the hills. But there are no other three people that I would want to experience every moment of my days with. You guys take my breath away.
I love you, Miss Layla! And thank you for not screaming your head off through the adoption ceremony cause I know you wanted to, you wanted to be anywhere but with me; and for finally smiling twelve hours after I got you, even it was to Lisa and not me. Thank you for being the best baby a woman could dream of.
Wouldn't last a single day
I'd probably just fade away
Without you I'd lose my mind
Before you ever came along
Life was not complete
The smartest thing I ever did was make you all mine
Crazy girl, don't you know that I love you?
I wouldn't dream of going nowhere
Silly woman, come here let me hold you
Have I told you lately I love you like crazy, girl?
Like crazy, girl
One mid-August evening, I said, yes, I would accept the referral of a healthy baby girl. Right before Labor Day, I accepted the referral of you. There was a little switch done in those two weeks bye-bye mid-June Layla, hello winter born Layla. I looked at the photos that Cheryl and Dick sent, looked at the photos that Lina’s aunt kindly took about two weeks before we met for the first time; so I knew what you looked like, but you had no idea I was coming or even who I was.
I remember leaving the airport and heading directly to your orphanage, no stopping by the hotel to drop our luggage off. I remember how happy and smiley James and Ben seemed, while you had no expression and then finally started crying being held by a woman who smelled different, looked different, sounded different, and felt different than anyone you had ever known.
“Nancy, Layla can walk,” I said in amazement on seeing you for the second time.
“Yash, that’s not Layla,” she replied.
Oh snap! Your new mommy didn’t recognize you. I’m so sorry about that though in my defense if someone had put eight brown baby boys in front of me an hour after Jory came home or eight biracial girls after the hour I first spend with Rowan, I wouldn’t have recognized either of them. If eight newborn brown girls were placed in front of your Oma, as she lay in her hospital bed at St. John’s, after her drugs wore off, she wouldn’t have been able to pick me out either. So see it’s not so horrible I couldn’t tell the difference between you and the walking girl. Recognization comes with spending time together and bonding. That wouldn’t happen now I could recognize your cry in a room full of kids. And you of course would definitely make it clear to all that I was and am your mommy.
When they handed you to me that December 30th morning and we got in the van, I had no idea what the future had in store. I had no idea what it would really mean to be the mommy of three kids, two of whom were Irish twins.
One February night, on a California King sized bed two bawling one-year-olds fresh out of the bathe. The eldest of the twins crying because she was sick and just wanted to be held by mommy. The younger of the twins crying because sometimes that’s just what one-year-olds do. I tried to calm them, comfort them, while working as quickly as possible to get them dressed and ready for bed. Nothing was working. I was about to lose my mind. Who do I try to talk to, the one-year-old or the one-year-old? Who would understand the words that were coming out of my mouth? I decided to go with the oldest of the two; I figured the oldest had been hearing the English language for the last year of her life while the younger had only been hearing it for the last four weeks.
“I know you don’t feel good, big girl. Let me get Layla dressed and put her to bed, then mommy can hold you, okay?” I asked, begged, pleaded. It was then and there that I knew three was the loveliest number of children to have ever. Good-bye Jack, it was nice imagining having you, but the reality was three kids had a lovely ring to it, four sounded CRAZY.
I quickly put the baby to bed, then held and cradled my big girl. Twinland was no walk in the park.
That story seems so long ago, yet it was merely three years ago. We’ve come a long way since then. Images of Jack have popped back up. A smart woman by the name of Jamie said that if you’re thinking of another that means you are finding or have a comfortable routine with the kids you already have. I think she’s on to something.
Snoop once said, “The game is to be sold, not to be told.” Baby, if you sold your game, I’d have no problem purchasing five tickets on the 120 day around the world cruise. The family suite with a balcony at that, with plenty of spending money and money left over.
You were christened “Baby” by your brother and it caught on. And oh boy, do you live up to that title. This game you run, you know the one where the neurons stop firing 60% of the time you are outdoors and like 99.9% of the time when you are at a mall or a store and there’s no basket or stroller for you. The neurons stop firing and you know longer no how to walk or use your arms and hands. Sometimes you have a bit of firing power to allow you to walk backwards, impeding my steps and for you to reach your arms upward while crying, “Mommy! Mommy!”
You are seemingly able to make your brain to stop sending messages to other parts of your body for minutes, even hours at a time, it’s insane. They stop firing and to keep it really real, you nonchalantly turn around in the bathroom for me to clean you because your arms and hands aren’t working. On most occasions messages get from your brain to your mouth so you say, you’re finished eating, yet there is still a bunch of food on your plate. So I offer you another bite and you take it, and the one after that, and the one after that, and so I’m feeding you because once again your arms don’t work, but your mouth does. I do wonder how we got to this point.
Your brother, sister, Oma, and I have all contributed to get us here. And I will give you your due, you play your game well, but you know when to back off, like when we went to the place where the anti-Christ lives called Disneyland. My first birthday spent with you and us together as a great foursome, you threw up in the poinsettias while we were standing in the Dumbo line. After making sure you were okay and seeing you recover just fine and dandy, I gave you a look which translated to: Mommy, did not wake up everyone early on her birthday and day off, drive to the other side of the moon, to come to this place that she vows to come to once a decade for you to get sick. I will call Aunt Dee Dee right now and ask her or one of the girls to come get you and babysit you until we meet up for dinner at Islands. You looked back at me and agreed with your own stipulation that you couldn’t walk or sit in the stroller for the rest of the day.
We have come along way in the past four years. Actually it’s been longer than that; it’s been since 2002 when I started my journey for you. Who knew back then it would take nearly seven years for you to come or that your nine month adoption would take twenty-one months? But all things in God’s perfect timing. He knew you weren’t meant to be the oldest. If you had come first, there would have been a strong chance you would have been the only. You were meant to be my precious baby. My darling baby girl, who can at times be smarter than her own good, is lovable, kissable, huggable, and the greatest baby any mommy could ever ask for.
At the wonderful Concordia, I was working on some religion or philosophy paper and I was talking to Auntie Heather about all the things God was. And she said, you should say He’s Omni Omni. That He is Omni-present, Omni-potent, omniscient. Even though I am a sinner, I’m weak, I come from dirt and to dirt I will one day return, He sent His only Son to die on the cross for my sins. He loved me enough to do that. He graciously saved me and gave me you. If I had a thousand tongues that thanked Him every second of every day it would never be enough.
On December 29, 2008, I wrote the lyrics to an Anointed song:
Every good thing I have done
Everything that I’ve become
Everything that’s turned out right
Is because You’re in my life
And if I ever teach a child the way
Ever learn myself to change
Ever become who I want to be
It’s not the I but the You in me
How those words still ring true back then, for now, and forever. God has been so loving, gracious, and merciful to allow me to be your mommy, to parent you, to spoil you. You might be the most spoilt baby I’ve ever met, though Auntie Mona might still disagree and say it was Sasha, but you’re a good kid even on those days, those moments when I see my mother in you. There are times that you act exactly as I imagined your Oma acted when she was a child. It’s eerie and scary. You leave me speechless at times.
“Layla, are you being nice?”
“No,” you cry with tears streaming down your face, which is nice to see because you have perfected the heart wrenching tearless cry.
“What did Jesus say? To love your neighbor as yourself, right? And what does that mean? That you treat people the way you want to be treated?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“So are you going to be nice now?”
“No.”
And I’m speechless. Uh, that’s not how this is supposed to go. That’s not the right answer. So Oma. So Layla.
You and your siblings have made my parenthood journey thus far better than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t have begun to ask for the terrific trio I’ve received. I know I should hug you more, kiss you more, say “I love you” more, point you to Christ more, yell less, threaten less, but there are moments when you make me want rip my hair out and send me running to the hills. But there are no other three people that I would want to experience every moment of my days with. You guys take my breath away.
I love you, Miss Layla! And thank you for not screaming your head off through the adoption ceremony cause I know you wanted to, you wanted to be anywhere but with me; and for finally smiling twelve hours after I got you, even it was to Lisa and not me. Thank you for being the best baby a woman could dream of.
Wouldn't last a single day
I'd probably just fade away
Without you I'd lose my mind
Before you ever came along
Life was not complete
The smartest thing I ever did was make you all mine
Crazy girl, don't you know that I love you?
I wouldn't dream of going nowhere
Silly woman, come here let me hold you
Have I told you lately I love you like crazy, girl?
Like crazy, girl
Friday, January 20, 2012
Happy Seventh Birthday Jory!!!!!!!
Seven years ago today, you were being born and I was probably in bed reading a book, keeping my mom at bay until she told me to get up so we could check the house one more time to make sure it was ready for the family to come over that afternoon. While I was out discovering that people actually go to stores on Christmas Day and wore pajamas to said stores, you were being poked, prodded, and footprinted. While I was waiting for the Jack in the Box on La Brea and Jefferson, to finish killing the cow to make my Jumbo Jack with cheese, you were being held and fed by a nurse in the hospital nursery.
While I was in the kitchen crying about spending another birthday and Christmas without my baby; God had a plan, an ironic one, but a plan in place for the both of us. Ironic that I had a baby waiting for me at a hospital in the Valley. Really the Valley. Mommy is so not a Valley girl. It’s Like You Know best described the Valley as hot, far and just- - the Valley. No other way to explain that place. And ironic that whenever people said to me, oh your birthday must be ruined being so close to Christmas. I would always say no, the really suckers were those unfortunate souls born on Christmas Day. Guess, the joke was on me.
Christmas Day 2004, our lives were changed for forever and neither of us were aware of the other. So strange to think seven years ago that I didn’t know you. That I haven’t been madly in love with you for forever. When I think of things that happened in the past they happened pre-Jory or post-Jory.
Oh baby boy (and I mean that in the way it was intended not in the John Singleton movie sort of way because if you became that type of baby boy it would be ON), I love you. The day you came home my life was forever changed. I was forever blessed. I don’t know why out of all the women in the world I was chosen to parent you, but I am forever grateful and humbled that I was. That I get to look into those brown eyes and tell you how much I love you. That I get to feel your small hand inside mine. That I get to hear the sound of your laughter. That I get to watch you put pieces of the puzzle together and see the light bulb go off.
Before Sasha came home, I worried I wouldn’t be able to love your little sister as much I loved you. You set the bar high. You were my little genius. You were my smart, funny, beautiful baby boy. How could another baby be as wonderful? How could another baby be as bright? How could another baby be as beautiful, inside and out? Of course, your sisters came home and my worries were put to rest, but there had been that worry.
I was told that was to be expected, you were my first. A lot of perks come with that and a lot of responsibility too. You are for better and for worse are my guinea pig. We are walking this path of motherhood/childhood together trying to figure out how it goes. I know sometimes I expect way too much of you. Sometimes I don’t give you enough credit for all you do. Sometimes I ask too little of you. Sometimes you get busted for things that weren’t your fault. I’m sorry for all that. Forgive me, I’m a work in progress, but remember one day I will come forth as pure gold.
I make mistakes because I’m human, but never doubt that I love you. When I hurt you, I love you. When I don’t keep my word, I love you. When I chastise you, I love you. When I lie to you, I love you. When I give you wrong advice, I love you. This parenting gig is super hard. Harder than I ever imagined and I’m learning on the job so please be patient with me.
And this year more than ever, I realized that this job doesn’t stop in eleven years- - just my job duties change. There is so much out there, Jory. So much out there to take your eyes off of the prize, take you off the narrow path. I pray for wisdom and strength to parent you the best I can. No mom holds her newborn and imagines one day her baby will be a murder victim or incarcerated or selling dope or a scrub or some dude with a bunch of baby mamas without ever a wedding ring gracing his left hand or a baby factory giving the state tons of kids to take care of. How did those kids get from A to B? I pray that I always see you for who you are. I pray that your goal in life is to be the man, the husband, the father, the leader God calls and wants you to be.
I love you, Jory Herrington. I would do anything for you, except help you bury bodies. We’re not that close. And please know that you weren’t given Casey Anthony type parents, my love does no limits, so if I can’t talk to or see my daughter, your wife, or my grandchild, after two days and you’re giving me the runaround, please know I will be at your door with the cops. I will not be on 48 Hours Mystery looking crazy, stupid and/or in denial.
I have loved watching you grow these past seven years and I look forward to what the future brings us. The good, the okay, and the bad. I have enjoyed being your schoolteacher, didn’t think I would ever say that. Yash of seven years ago would have died laughing if someone had suggested that to her.
So in conclusion Jory, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope you have an awesome day! And I love you from the top of the sky to the bottom of the ocean for always and forever! Happy Seventh Birthday!!!!!!!
Got to tell you how you thrill me
I'm happy as I can be
You have come
And it's changed my whole world
Bye-bye sadness, hello mellow
What a wonderful world
It's so amazing to be loved
I'd follow you to the moon in the sky above
Ooh, ooh, ooh, I'd go
Cause we've got amazing love
While I was in the kitchen crying about spending another birthday and Christmas without my baby; God had a plan, an ironic one, but a plan in place for the both of us. Ironic that I had a baby waiting for me at a hospital in the Valley. Really the Valley. Mommy is so not a Valley girl. It’s Like You Know best described the Valley as hot, far and just- - the Valley. No other way to explain that place. And ironic that whenever people said to me, oh your birthday must be ruined being so close to Christmas. I would always say no, the really suckers were those unfortunate souls born on Christmas Day. Guess, the joke was on me.
Christmas Day 2004, our lives were changed for forever and neither of us were aware of the other. So strange to think seven years ago that I didn’t know you. That I haven’t been madly in love with you for forever. When I think of things that happened in the past they happened pre-Jory or post-Jory.
Oh baby boy (and I mean that in the way it was intended not in the John Singleton movie sort of way because if you became that type of baby boy it would be ON), I love you. The day you came home my life was forever changed. I was forever blessed. I don’t know why out of all the women in the world I was chosen to parent you, but I am forever grateful and humbled that I was. That I get to look into those brown eyes and tell you how much I love you. That I get to feel your small hand inside mine. That I get to hear the sound of your laughter. That I get to watch you put pieces of the puzzle together and see the light bulb go off.
Before Sasha came home, I worried I wouldn’t be able to love your little sister as much I loved you. You set the bar high. You were my little genius. You were my smart, funny, beautiful baby boy. How could another baby be as wonderful? How could another baby be as bright? How could another baby be as beautiful, inside and out? Of course, your sisters came home and my worries were put to rest, but there had been that worry.
I was told that was to be expected, you were my first. A lot of perks come with that and a lot of responsibility too. You are for better and for worse are my guinea pig. We are walking this path of motherhood/childhood together trying to figure out how it goes. I know sometimes I expect way too much of you. Sometimes I don’t give you enough credit for all you do. Sometimes I ask too little of you. Sometimes you get busted for things that weren’t your fault. I’m sorry for all that. Forgive me, I’m a work in progress, but remember one day I will come forth as pure gold.
I make mistakes because I’m human, but never doubt that I love you. When I hurt you, I love you. When I don’t keep my word, I love you. When I chastise you, I love you. When I lie to you, I love you. When I give you wrong advice, I love you. This parenting gig is super hard. Harder than I ever imagined and I’m learning on the job so please be patient with me.
And this year more than ever, I realized that this job doesn’t stop in eleven years- - just my job duties change. There is so much out there, Jory. So much out there to take your eyes off of the prize, take you off the narrow path. I pray for wisdom and strength to parent you the best I can. No mom holds her newborn and imagines one day her baby will be a murder victim or incarcerated or selling dope or a scrub or some dude with a bunch of baby mamas without ever a wedding ring gracing his left hand or a baby factory giving the state tons of kids to take care of. How did those kids get from A to B? I pray that I always see you for who you are. I pray that your goal in life is to be the man, the husband, the father, the leader God calls and wants you to be.
I love you, Jory Herrington. I would do anything for you, except help you bury bodies. We’re not that close. And please know that you weren’t given Casey Anthony type parents, my love does no limits, so if I can’t talk to or see my daughter, your wife, or my grandchild, after two days and you’re giving me the runaround, please know I will be at your door with the cops. I will not be on 48 Hours Mystery looking crazy, stupid and/or in denial.
I have loved watching you grow these past seven years and I look forward to what the future brings us. The good, the okay, and the bad. I have enjoyed being your schoolteacher, didn’t think I would ever say that. Yash of seven years ago would have died laughing if someone had suggested that to her.
So in conclusion Jory, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope you have an awesome day! And I love you from the top of the sky to the bottom of the ocean for always and forever! Happy Seventh Birthday!!!!!!!
Got to tell you how you thrill me
I'm happy as I can be
You have come
And it's changed my whole world
Bye-bye sadness, hello mellow
What a wonderful world
It's so amazing to be loved
I'd follow you to the moon in the sky above
Ooh, ooh, ooh, I'd go
Cause we've got amazing love
Monday, January 9, 2012
Search for the perfect Tutu
Before I dropped the girls off, I checked different stores to see who had the cheapest tutus and sent an email to Steph, my friend with the info on all the best places of things to buy and where they buy them.
Kissed the girls good-bye and off to K-Mart, they had tutu skirts with a matching top on sale for $7.99. Score! I didn’t bother to ask anyone for help because I’ve learned that’s not why the workers are there. They are there solely to move merchandise from point A to point B.
I found one red outfit in Rowan’s size. SCORE!!! But I couldn’t find any in Layla’s size. How is that possible? I usually find outfits for the baby, but not Rowan’s. I search the racks. I see there are pants with half-a-tutu combos, but I don’t think that would be the right look for the Christmas program. On to the next store.
I arrived at Sears and was disappointed not to find any tutus in red. What in the world? Do they know it’s Christmastime? Pink and white. So blah, it’s Christmas, but I gotta work with what we got. I easily found a pink and white tutu in Rowan’s size, but once again not in Layla’s. Are you serious?! Is this a conspiracy against the size 3T? And really $8.99?!?!?! For this bit of fluff? Are you kidding me?! Bygones. The things that I do for love.
I leave Sears and head to Children’s Place, but I decided to give TJ Maxx’s a try. I have to mentally prep myself to go into this store. SCORE!! I found pink tutus in Rowan’s size, but only a white one in the baby’s. I put them on hold though the cashier does so reluctantly being so close to Christmas at all. I assured her I would be back if I wanted to buy them in less than fifteen minutes.
I run out of TJ, down the escalator, and into Children’s Place. They have black and purple tutus. Yeah, that’s not going to work. On to the dreaded Wal-Mart.
I head directly to the toddler section and bam, pink tutus for only $4.99. To be on the safe side I got four tutus in the girls’ sizes and the size above for Rowan and below for Layla, that way all bases are covered. I was still a little disappointed that they didn’t have red tutus, I figured green was stretching it, but SCORE I found tutus in the girls’ sizes. Then I thought what about tops.
Thanks to Auntie Heather, Layla had a pink leotard with a little tutu and tights, but Rowan had no pink leotard. But there was nothing pink in Wal-Mart land. So I figured Rowan could wear her slightly too small pink shirt that we had two of, if I wanted the girls to be identical.
Over two hours after leaving home, I was finished. And another day that Jory and I didn’t start the day schooling.
And speaking of things not going the way I planned I ran over to Home Depot with Aunt Brenda and Vandy in the car and asked for a seven foot Christmas tree. The employee showed me one and I took it. It wasn’t anything to truly write home about. In fact once we got it home and the branches dropped, it had a total Charlie Brown Christmas tree feel to it. It didn’t help that when I found the tree holder, one of the screws were missing and we had to use scrap pieces of wood the workers left to keep the tree straight.
I picked up the kids and we started decorating it, until we realized the one Christmas box we brought inside the house had mainly glass bulbs in it but we didn’t have one hook in the box. I wasn’t about to go search for them, so it was back to the store in the morning after I dropped the girls off, I guess.
Wait, I’m on vacation, right?
Kissed the girls good-bye and off to K-Mart, they had tutu skirts with a matching top on sale for $7.99. Score! I didn’t bother to ask anyone for help because I’ve learned that’s not why the workers are there. They are there solely to move merchandise from point A to point B.
I found one red outfit in Rowan’s size. SCORE!!! But I couldn’t find any in Layla’s size. How is that possible? I usually find outfits for the baby, but not Rowan’s. I search the racks. I see there are pants with half-a-tutu combos, but I don’t think that would be the right look for the Christmas program. On to the next store.
I arrived at Sears and was disappointed not to find any tutus in red. What in the world? Do they know it’s Christmastime? Pink and white. So blah, it’s Christmas, but I gotta work with what we got. I easily found a pink and white tutu in Rowan’s size, but once again not in Layla’s. Are you serious?! Is this a conspiracy against the size 3T? And really $8.99?!?!?! For this bit of fluff? Are you kidding me?! Bygones. The things that I do for love.
I leave Sears and head to Children’s Place, but I decided to give TJ Maxx’s a try. I have to mentally prep myself to go into this store. SCORE!! I found pink tutus in Rowan’s size, but only a white one in the baby’s. I put them on hold though the cashier does so reluctantly being so close to Christmas at all. I assured her I would be back if I wanted to buy them in less than fifteen minutes.
I run out of TJ, down the escalator, and into Children’s Place. They have black and purple tutus. Yeah, that’s not going to work. On to the dreaded Wal-Mart.
I head directly to the toddler section and bam, pink tutus for only $4.99. To be on the safe side I got four tutus in the girls’ sizes and the size above for Rowan and below for Layla, that way all bases are covered. I was still a little disappointed that they didn’t have red tutus, I figured green was stretching it, but SCORE I found tutus in the girls’ sizes. Then I thought what about tops.
Thanks to Auntie Heather, Layla had a pink leotard with a little tutu and tights, but Rowan had no pink leotard. But there was nothing pink in Wal-Mart land. So I figured Rowan could wear her slightly too small pink shirt that we had two of, if I wanted the girls to be identical.
Over two hours after leaving home, I was finished. And another day that Jory and I didn’t start the day schooling.
And speaking of things not going the way I planned I ran over to Home Depot with Aunt Brenda and Vandy in the car and asked for a seven foot Christmas tree. The employee showed me one and I took it. It wasn’t anything to truly write home about. In fact once we got it home and the branches dropped, it had a total Charlie Brown Christmas tree feel to it. It didn’t help that when I found the tree holder, one of the screws were missing and we had to use scrap pieces of wood the workers left to keep the tree straight.
I picked up the kids and we started decorating it, until we realized the one Christmas box we brought inside the house had mainly glass bulbs in it but we didn’t have one hook in the box. I wasn’t about to go search for them, so it was back to the store in the morning after I dropped the girls off, I guess.
Wait, I’m on vacation, right?
The Great School Dilemma
I was dropping the girls off when I looked up at the information board at their school. What?! They needed tutus for the Christmas program the next day. Great!
“I knew the girls had their tutus from Halloween,” Mrs. Wilson said, when she saw me staring at the board.
Oh that’s awesome and really kind of her. Unfortunately she seemed to forget that the girls’ outfits were too small and Rowan’s ripped, so the baby couldn’t use hers.
So now on top of errands for my mom today, I will have to go looking for tutus, on top of finally getting a Christmas tree.
Errands all day, trying to get a copy of the police report of the accident, which in theory sounds easy. One police station, two police stations, two different departments, all to end up with a phone number for a detective who is not at his desk who has to mail us the report.
After that fun trip, it was off to pick up the things we needed for Christmas dinner for Mort’s though I was still unsure if I was cooking at home like I did for Thanksgiving. Maybe New Year’s would be better. Hmm, decisions, decisions.
We finally get home, we’ve done no schooling because I’ve been gone all day and now it’s time for bath and bed. This isn’t how I imagined our first week day of vacation going.
“I knew the girls had their tutus from Halloween,” Mrs. Wilson said, when she saw me staring at the board.
Oh that’s awesome and really kind of her. Unfortunately she seemed to forget that the girls’ outfits were too small and Rowan’s ripped, so the baby couldn’t use hers.
So now on top of errands for my mom today, I will have to go looking for tutus, on top of finally getting a Christmas tree.
Errands all day, trying to get a copy of the police report of the accident, which in theory sounds easy. One police station, two police stations, two different departments, all to end up with a phone number for a detective who is not at his desk who has to mail us the report.
After that fun trip, it was off to pick up the things we needed for Christmas dinner for Mort’s though I was still unsure if I was cooking at home like I did for Thanksgiving. Maybe New Year’s would be better. Hmm, decisions, decisions.
We finally get home, we’ve done no schooling because I’ve been gone all day and now it’s time for bath and bed. This isn’t how I imagined our first week day of vacation going.
God is good
When we got home last night, I found out that my mom’s car hadn’t broken down but that they had been in a seven car pile up. A woman going up to 70mph hit another car and the trickle down effect happened. My aunt, who was driving, saw it coming but the light was red and there was no way to avoid getting hit.
Praise God everyone was fine. Praise God that they were able to drive away and didn’t need to be taken to the emergency room as at least 10 others needed to.
My mom said she now knows what the term ambulance chaser means. A lawyer approached her and my aunt as the cops took statements from everyone and the paramedics took away the injured, while she avoided talking on camera. She was unsure how a lawyer arrived on the scene so quickly. Or how a man whom she was sure she never saw exited one of the other six cars was suddenly so injured that he needed to go to the hospital. She and my aunt suspect he might have walked off the street and inserted himself into the accident. Who was going to question it? Every car had multiple people in it with people leaving church and heading shopping at 1PM on Sunday afternoon.
Praise God they were alright and uninjured. Praying for all those taken to the hospital, especially the woman who was hit first and had to have the jaws of life used to get her out of her car.
Praise God everyone was fine. Praise God that they were able to drive away and didn’t need to be taken to the emergency room as at least 10 others needed to.
My mom said she now knows what the term ambulance chaser means. A lawyer approached her and my aunt as the cops took statements from everyone and the paramedics took away the injured, while she avoided talking on camera. She was unsure how a lawyer arrived on the scene so quickly. Or how a man whom she was sure she never saw exited one of the other six cars was suddenly so injured that he needed to go to the hospital. She and my aunt suspect he might have walked off the street and inserted himself into the accident. Who was going to question it? Every car had multiple people in it with people leaving church and heading shopping at 1PM on Sunday afternoon.
Praise God they were alright and uninjured. Praying for all those taken to the hospital, especially the woman who was hit first and had to have the jaws of life used to get her out of her car.
The Second Day of Vacation
It was crazy. We were going to be on time for church. Yippee!! But of course last night, I couldn’t remember why I was giving Dee Dee the Christmas gift I was giving her. I had finished Christmas shopping in early December, later than usual, but still this Christmas gift was making any sense. I had to go to the other idea I had which makes much more sense.
So a side trip was needed and I thought we had enough time before church, but once we got to the store I realized we didn’t and of course a simple U-turn wasn’t possible, which led us down a street we weren’t familiar with and my “oh, if we turn here, this should lead us back to the street we need to be on” didn’t work. We drove down the unfamiliar terrain, which of course led us to being late.
After church everyone disappeared, getting ready for Christmas. So after assuring Deeds was staying at church, we ran out to get her new gift. I’ll be honest sometimes I wish I could leave them in the car. A two second trip in the store takes ten minutes, but we preserved and the kids got to help pick out part of Auntie Dee Dee’s gift. We hopped back in the car, drove quickly yet safely back to the church.
I put everything in her Christmas bag when alas the tape that I specifically brought from home for this gift was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. I felt the pressure of time upon us. I didn’t want Dee Dee to leave, the kids ran for the playground, when I wanted them to stay close, we had a birthday party to attend, and had to stop by my job to pick up something. The pressure was on.
I saw a couple headed to their car and asked, “Do you have any tape?” And oh how I loved them when they said, “Yes.” Deeds’ gift was saved. Yiippeee! Everything was taped. I left the gift in the trusted hands of the wonderful Peggy and off we went with the rested assurance that Deeds had the perfect Christmas gift for this year. I’ll have to figure out what the other gift was about. I’m sure in time it will make sense again.
Then we were off to the birthday party. We were late, but they were expecting that. The food was gone. The kids were hungry. Layla refused to get in the jumper. I knew no one there. Okay, I did but no one I ever said anything more than just “Hey” to as I dropped Jory off in the morning and when I picked him up in the evening. And I’m pretty sure the birthday boy isn’t the nicest of kids and says not so nice things to Jory and in front of him.
We stayed for an hour and that’s how long it took the party to wrap up so instead of lunch the kids got cake and soda. On to the next stop, my job. We weren’t able to sneak in like I thought, but we got what we needed and made another quick stop before we got a phone call from my mom to come home so we could take Aunt Brenda and Vandy home. Oh no, the car broke down….Onward we go…
So a side trip was needed and I thought we had enough time before church, but once we got to the store I realized we didn’t and of course a simple U-turn wasn’t possible, which led us down a street we weren’t familiar with and my “oh, if we turn here, this should lead us back to the street we need to be on” didn’t work. We drove down the unfamiliar terrain, which of course led us to being late.
After church everyone disappeared, getting ready for Christmas. So after assuring Deeds was staying at church, we ran out to get her new gift. I’ll be honest sometimes I wish I could leave them in the car. A two second trip in the store takes ten minutes, but we preserved and the kids got to help pick out part of Auntie Dee Dee’s gift. We hopped back in the car, drove quickly yet safely back to the church.
I put everything in her Christmas bag when alas the tape that I specifically brought from home for this gift was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. I felt the pressure of time upon us. I didn’t want Dee Dee to leave, the kids ran for the playground, when I wanted them to stay close, we had a birthday party to attend, and had to stop by my job to pick up something. The pressure was on.
I saw a couple headed to their car and asked, “Do you have any tape?” And oh how I loved them when they said, “Yes.” Deeds’ gift was saved. Yiippeee! Everything was taped. I left the gift in the trusted hands of the wonderful Peggy and off we went with the rested assurance that Deeds had the perfect Christmas gift for this year. I’ll have to figure out what the other gift was about. I’m sure in time it will make sense again.
Then we were off to the birthday party. We were late, but they were expecting that. The food was gone. The kids were hungry. Layla refused to get in the jumper. I knew no one there. Okay, I did but no one I ever said anything more than just “Hey” to as I dropped Jory off in the morning and when I picked him up in the evening. And I’m pretty sure the birthday boy isn’t the nicest of kids and says not so nice things to Jory and in front of him.
We stayed for an hour and that’s how long it took the party to wrap up so instead of lunch the kids got cake and soda. On to the next stop, my job. We weren’t able to sneak in like I thought, but we got what we needed and made another quick stop before we got a phone call from my mom to come home so we could take Aunt Brenda and Vandy home. Oh no, the car broke down….Onward we go…
Thursday, January 5, 2012
First Day of Christmas Vacation
Our first official day of Christmas vacation! Mona has no idea that in a few short days she’ll be on her way here. Thank goodness because finding a box to ship Kayla’s princess outfit was going to be a chore.
If the workmen would just finish the living room the kids and I could go pick out a Christmas tree. Hopefully next year, the Christmas tree buying will go as planned on the first Saturday of December.
I was so not anticipating workmen at our house in December. Well I also thought homeschooling would happen in Jory’s room back in September. The best made plans.
Christmas and construction - - let’s see how it affects our Christmas.
If the workmen would just finish the living room the kids and I could go pick out a Christmas tree. Hopefully next year, the Christmas tree buying will go as planned on the first Saturday of December.
I was so not anticipating workmen at our house in December. Well I also thought homeschooling would happen in Jory’s room back in September. The best made plans.
Christmas and construction - - let’s see how it affects our Christmas.
The day before vacation begins!!!!
Last day at work and things are crazy. Rushing to make sure everything gets done in time. Making sure I’ve told the temp everything she needs to know. Making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Tiding up my desk.
I hate that feeling like I’m forgetting something, but nothing popped up, I couldn’t remember anything. So I was out the door on time to go pick up Jory so we could start our vacation together. Regular homeschooling is about to begin! Yippee!!! Two glorious weeks off to revel in the most wonderful time of the year….and Mona is coming home. It doesn’t get any better than this, other than walking in a Winter Wonderland.
I hate that feeling like I’m forgetting something, but nothing popped up, I couldn’t remember anything. So I was out the door on time to go pick up Jory so we could start our vacation together. Regular homeschooling is about to begin! Yippee!!! Two glorious weeks off to revel in the most wonderful time of the year….and Mona is coming home. It doesn’t get any better than this, other than walking in a Winter Wonderland.
Jory is WINNING
“Mommy, do you think that cat lives there?” Jory asked, looking at the cat seated upon a park car down the block from the girls’ school.
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied.
“Mommy, can we get a cat?”
“No. You don’t even keep up with your jacket,” I answered and reminded him of the fact that this morning he was jacketless because he forgets his jacket at Ms Adina’s though there is an assigned place for them to go and I tell him to put it in his jacket if he doesn’t want to hang it up.
“Mommy, if I listen can we get a cat when in a hundred years?”
“If you listen and obey, then yes you can get a cat when in a hundred years”
“I’ll feed it, take care of it. Can I pick it out at the pet store?” he asked.
“Yes, you can.”
Score! Everyone’s happy. Jory’s getting a cat and is happy. I’m happy that I don’t have to buy him until he’s 106. Jory is WINNING!
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied.
“Mommy, can we get a cat?”
“No. You don’t even keep up with your jacket,” I answered and reminded him of the fact that this morning he was jacketless because he forgets his jacket at Ms Adina’s though there is an assigned place for them to go and I tell him to put it in his jacket if he doesn’t want to hang it up.
“Mommy, if I listen can we get a cat when in a hundred years?”
“If you listen and obey, then yes you can get a cat when in a hundred years”
“I’ll feed it, take care of it. Can I pick it out at the pet store?” he asked.
“Yes, you can.”
Score! Everyone’s happy. Jory’s getting a cat and is happy. I’m happy that I don’t have to buy him until he’s 106. Jory is WINNING!
New rule
My car was a mess. Paper, peelings, cups, cheerios. It was time to put the smackdown. So I did.
No eating in Mommy’s car. If you are starving, you will have to keep starving until we get home or wherever we’re going. Until little ones learn to clean up after themselves, there will be no eating, snacking, or drinking in the car.
No eating in Mommy’s car. If you are starving, you will have to keep starving until we get home or wherever we’re going. Until little ones learn to clean up after themselves, there will be no eating, snacking, or drinking in the car.
UGH!!!!
You know what’s great….good friends, sisters. I woke up this morning, got everyone up after ten minutes of cajoling, we were going to make it out the door on time. I come back from the bathroom only to find Rowan playing with her doggie while sitting at the kitchen table and trying to drink some of her Oma’s tea. Layla had taken off her diaper and was walking around in her underwear. I was so mad. I couldn’t even say to them, “Are you serious?!?!” My mind was blown. I couldn’t talk to them. I told Jory to come on, grabbed my purse, my watch, and walked out of the door.
In the car, Jory was asking me were the girls staying home and if so, why were they staying home. I gave him a curt answer. I did not want to talk about it, about their behavior.
When I got to work a dear friend asked me how the morning was and I unloaded. I was going to strangle those little girls. They are very cute, but very Israelitey. Ugh!!!
We chatted and I calmed down and she helped me over time to see the light. Strangling was not the answer. I’m so glad to have friends who love me, who love my kids, who only want the best for us, and who can talk me off the parenting ledge. There are some days, some moments I just want to jump. Thanks Lala for being there and stopping me and reminding me I have disobedient, crazy children to keep me on my knees and to remind me that I need a Savior, always have and always will.
In the car, Jory was asking me were the girls staying home and if so, why were they staying home. I gave him a curt answer. I did not want to talk about it, about their behavior.
When I got to work a dear friend asked me how the morning was and I unloaded. I was going to strangle those little girls. They are very cute, but very Israelitey. Ugh!!!
We chatted and I calmed down and she helped me over time to see the light. Strangling was not the answer. I’m so glad to have friends who love me, who love my kids, who only want the best for us, and who can talk me off the parenting ledge. There are some days, some moments I just want to jump. Thanks Lala for being there and stopping me and reminding me I have disobedient, crazy children to keep me on my knees and to remind me that I need a Savior, always have and always will.
He's learning...he's learning...
Last night, we were living in the Sahara again so I told Jory to go ask Oma to turn the heat off. He went and a short while later, the heat went off. SCORE! I woke up around 1AMish and it was cool in the warm. I covered the girls and went back to sleep.
Jory woke me at 4AM unable to sleep because of a stuffy nose. It was chilly in the room. We hunkered down under the blankets. Finally I told him, go ask Oma to turn the heat back on. He got out of bed to do my bidding, then I heard him and Oma talking and her walking back towards our room.
“I didn’t turn the heat off,” she said.
“Yes, you did. Jory asked you to turn it off,” I reminded her.
“No, I didn’t touch it,” she replied.
I looked down at Jory who was back in the bed next to me. “Did you ask Oma to turn off the heat last night?” I questioned.
“H-E-A-T spells heat. C-O-O-L spells cool. I pressed the heat button,” he informed me.
Wow, schooling is really working. SCORE! But I didn’t ask you to touch the central air and heating controller. “Jory, you’re right, but you are not allowed to touch the thermostat. You cannot touch the buttons, okay?”
“Okay,” he answered, as the heat kicked back on.
My little brilliant genius.
Jory woke me at 4AM unable to sleep because of a stuffy nose. It was chilly in the room. We hunkered down under the blankets. Finally I told him, go ask Oma to turn the heat back on. He got out of bed to do my bidding, then I heard him and Oma talking and her walking back towards our room.
“I didn’t turn the heat off,” she said.
“Yes, you did. Jory asked you to turn it off,” I reminded her.
“No, I didn’t touch it,” she replied.
I looked down at Jory who was back in the bed next to me. “Did you ask Oma to turn off the heat last night?” I questioned.
“H-E-A-T spells heat. C-O-O-L spells cool. I pressed the heat button,” he informed me.
Wow, schooling is really working. SCORE! But I didn’t ask you to touch the central air and heating controller. “Jory, you’re right, but you are not allowed to touch the thermostat. You cannot touch the buttons, okay?”
“Okay,” he answered, as the heat kicked back on.
My little brilliant genius.
Irish twin power
Yesterday, the kids and I went to a Christmas party and at the end the kids can go down to the toy room and choose a toy. A nice volunteer offered to take the older two kids to their age appropriate toy tables while I took the baby to hers. The baby happily chose a doll and a bear from the stuffed animal table.
We met back up with Rowan and Jory. Rowan showed off her red ladybug pillow pet, which note to self take back red ladybug pillow pet in Oma’s closet. Jory showed off his- - take a guess- - did you guess yet- - that’s right construction trucks.
“Mommy, that’s the same doll I picked last time,” Rowan stated, looking at the baby’s doll.
Really, I thought. I took another look at the doll and recognized the green sandals she came with and realized Rowan was right. “You’re right, Rowan. It is the same doll.”
Hmm, is that Irish twin power at work? Or just a doll that appeals to three-year-old girls at Christmas time?
We met back up with Rowan and Jory. Rowan showed off her red ladybug pillow pet, which note to self take back red ladybug pillow pet in Oma’s closet. Jory showed off his- - take a guess- - did you guess yet- - that’s right construction trucks.
“Mommy, that’s the same doll I picked last time,” Rowan stated, looking at the baby’s doll.
Really, I thought. I took another look at the doll and recognized the green sandals she came with and realized Rowan was right. “You’re right, Rowan. It is the same doll.”
Hmm, is that Irish twin power at work? Or just a doll that appeals to three-year-old girls at Christmas time?
Bethlehem
What a busy day we had. First, we went to an awesome Child SHARE Christmas party. We had a great time with our friends: Peggy, Rick, George, and Alex. The kids got some presents, took pictures with Santa. Layla was reluctant to do that and finally didn’t take a pic with the man in red until the party was almost over.
We headed back home with full bellies and goodies. Then we did some errands and then we went home. As I was feeding them, I was trying to debate if we should go to Journey of Faith’s Journey to Bethlehem. I was on the fence. I wanted my mom to go, but the workmen were still working on the house and didn’t look like they were going to stop anytime soon. It was getting chilly outside and it was an outdoor, see baby Jesus, Joseph, and Mary sort of event. Did we really need to go? I remembered this was the last weekend for it so it was either today or tomorrow, but tomorrow we were going to church in the OC.
Vandy was over so I asked if he wanted to go. He said, yes. After dinner, I told everyone to grab their jackets with hoods. We got everyone piled into the car and off we went in the dark to find the church.
“Mommy, why do spotlights move?” Jory asked me, as we traveled.
Uh, where did that question come from? “That’s just the way they are. Why do you ask?”
No answer.
I kept the station on KOST, our 24 hour Christmas music station, and drove on. We arrived at the church and there was no place to park. The line was wrapped around the block. We should have parked back at the high school. We circled back and parked. Based on the line, I figured the double stroller, one of the greatest buys of all time, was a necessity. In the girls went and off we went.
As we walked around the block to get in line, I saw a gigantic, movie premiere type spotlight. I pointed it out to Jory and the girls. Amazing that he saw that when we were miles away.
“Jory saw these lights in the car. It was like we were the wise men following the star,” I told them. I’m sure that was the point.
The baby with the itty bitty bladder had to go to the bathroom, of course. What a blessing teens are. I left Vandy in line with the older two while I went to scout out a bathroom, which was much harder than it needed to be. We came back and the line had really moved. We found Vandy and that’s when my eyes were opened.
There were people dressed in period clothing. They gave us shekels, they said they were needed to pay taxes. There were singers playing instruments, I had never seen before. We weren’t just going to see Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, we were about to walk into Bethlehem. We saw Roman guards in their full armor. As soon as we past through the “city gates”, there was hay at our feet and stuff everywhere.
People were making grain, sharpening weapons, selling goods. I bought some baklava for 2 shekels. The girls bought leather bracelets for a shekel a piece. We were told if we went in another direction, we could buy jewels to go on the bracelets. The kids went “bowling” or the equivalent of 0 AD bowling.
I heard a voice and looked around, then looked up. It was an angel on top of the building, then suddenly there was a host of angels singing with what looked like water streaming down the side of the building.
I was so not expecting this. I thought it would be like a little play, but this was far beyond anything I could have imagined. As we were walking, I heard someone shouting. I looked over and it was a man with a pregnant woman on a donkey looking for a place for his wife to have their baby.
“Mommy is Mary real?” Rowan asked.
“No, this isn’t the real Mary. She’s just pretending,” I informed her.
A man had room in his stable, but no room in his inn. So we watched Joseph carry Mary to the stable. We got in line and made it inside the stable and saw Mary holding Jesus with Joseph standing near. A shepherd spoke on angels telling him about the birth of Jesus. Joseph marveled at the birth of Messiah and how they had waited 700 years for Him. That hit me, 700 years! God’s chosen people - - generations died waiting for the One that would save them.
Jory got to learn how to sharpen an axe.
“Mommy, you told me Mary wasn’t real. She was real,” Rowan reprimanded me.
“Yes, Mary was real, but she’s not the real- - “ Oh never mind!
A great time was had by all and this will definitely be added to must do things at Christmas. A nice reminder of what the season is about.
We headed back home with full bellies and goodies. Then we did some errands and then we went home. As I was feeding them, I was trying to debate if we should go to Journey of Faith’s Journey to Bethlehem. I was on the fence. I wanted my mom to go, but the workmen were still working on the house and didn’t look like they were going to stop anytime soon. It was getting chilly outside and it was an outdoor, see baby Jesus, Joseph, and Mary sort of event. Did we really need to go? I remembered this was the last weekend for it so it was either today or tomorrow, but tomorrow we were going to church in the OC.
Vandy was over so I asked if he wanted to go. He said, yes. After dinner, I told everyone to grab their jackets with hoods. We got everyone piled into the car and off we went in the dark to find the church.
“Mommy, why do spotlights move?” Jory asked me, as we traveled.
Uh, where did that question come from? “That’s just the way they are. Why do you ask?”
No answer.
I kept the station on KOST, our 24 hour Christmas music station, and drove on. We arrived at the church and there was no place to park. The line was wrapped around the block. We should have parked back at the high school. We circled back and parked. Based on the line, I figured the double stroller, one of the greatest buys of all time, was a necessity. In the girls went and off we went.
As we walked around the block to get in line, I saw a gigantic, movie premiere type spotlight. I pointed it out to Jory and the girls. Amazing that he saw that when we were miles away.
“Jory saw these lights in the car. It was like we were the wise men following the star,” I told them. I’m sure that was the point.
The baby with the itty bitty bladder had to go to the bathroom, of course. What a blessing teens are. I left Vandy in line with the older two while I went to scout out a bathroom, which was much harder than it needed to be. We came back and the line had really moved. We found Vandy and that’s when my eyes were opened.
There were people dressed in period clothing. They gave us shekels, they said they were needed to pay taxes. There were singers playing instruments, I had never seen before. We weren’t just going to see Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, we were about to walk into Bethlehem. We saw Roman guards in their full armor. As soon as we past through the “city gates”, there was hay at our feet and stuff everywhere.
People were making grain, sharpening weapons, selling goods. I bought some baklava for 2 shekels. The girls bought leather bracelets for a shekel a piece. We were told if we went in another direction, we could buy jewels to go on the bracelets. The kids went “bowling” or the equivalent of 0 AD bowling.
I heard a voice and looked around, then looked up. It was an angel on top of the building, then suddenly there was a host of angels singing with what looked like water streaming down the side of the building.
I was so not expecting this. I thought it would be like a little play, but this was far beyond anything I could have imagined. As we were walking, I heard someone shouting. I looked over and it was a man with a pregnant woman on a donkey looking for a place for his wife to have their baby.
“Mommy is Mary real?” Rowan asked.
“No, this isn’t the real Mary. She’s just pretending,” I informed her.
A man had room in his stable, but no room in his inn. So we watched Joseph carry Mary to the stable. We got in line and made it inside the stable and saw Mary holding Jesus with Joseph standing near. A shepherd spoke on angels telling him about the birth of Jesus. Joseph marveled at the birth of Messiah and how they had waited 700 years for Him. That hit me, 700 years! God’s chosen people - - generations died waiting for the One that would save them.
Jory got to learn how to sharpen an axe.
“Mommy, you told me Mary wasn’t real. She was real,” Rowan reprimanded me.
“Yes, Mary was real, but she’s not the real- - “ Oh never mind!
A great time was had by all and this will definitely be added to must do things at Christmas. A nice reminder of what the season is about.
Switching Personalities
At AWANA’s movie night, Jory decided to leave his personality in the car and take on Rowan’s. They went inside to watch the movie in the sanctuary while I talked to one of the other parents. It seemed like every time I looked up there was Jory, looking for food, wandering around. I redirected him back to the chapel. He was constantly on the move. The girls were happily watching The Lion King. Not sure if he was bored or what, but he was roaming around. I expect Rowan to roam around and wander off, that’s her M.O. but not Jory.
I gave up on my conversation and went into the sanctuary with them. A dark, warm place and a woman who has been up for 15 or more hours is a bad combo and Jory happily took advantage of that. I started to nod off and he was out of his chair creeping some place.
I don’t like my kids switching personalities. It’s not cool.
I gave up on my conversation and went into the sanctuary with them. A dark, warm place and a woman who has been up for 15 or more hours is a bad combo and Jory happily took advantage of that. I started to nod off and he was out of his chair creeping some place.
I don’t like my kids switching personalities. It’s not cool.
Heat in the Winter Wonderland
Yikes! After not having any heat, the central air and heating unit was installed. As soon as I walked into the house yesterday, I could tell we had heat. Praise God for heat! But now it’s too hot. Too hot. We’re sleeping in tank tops and shorts. The baby was so hot tonight that she even pulled off her diaper. I had to put it back on her, but she said it was making her hot.
Shorts and tanks tops and Christmas is two weeks out, that’s just insane and not all like walking in the Winter Wonderland.
Shorts and tanks tops and Christmas is two weeks out, that’s just insane and not all like walking in the Winter Wonderland.
Kisses
I kiss Rowan and she kisses me. I kiss Jory and he kisses me. I go to kiss Layla and she stands still as if I have to come to her, no meeting halfway. I saw this and I gave her a look. Wait, I’m suppose to come to you? I don’t think so sweetie, I’m the Mommy in this equation, you come to me.
So we get into this Mexican stand-off. She’ll pucker her lips, make kissing noises, and they’ll be laughter in her eyes, but she won’t move. So I wait and then she’ll leave forward, kiss me, then laugh and laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world, this Mexican stand-off. Oh my baby.
So we get into this Mexican stand-off. She’ll pucker her lips, make kissing noises, and they’ll be laughter in her eyes, but she won’t move. So I wait and then she’ll leave forward, kiss me, then laugh and laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world, this Mexican stand-off. Oh my baby.
It's 4AM....
I've been up for nearly two hours and I can't find all the gifts. Where are my sister's and my mom's tops to go with their skirts?!?!?! Where?!?! I'm so behind this year. I just finished all of our shopping on Saturday. Saturday?!?!
Okay back to watching the Sing Off Christmas special and looking for these tops, including the one my mom is most definitely returning. The kids got her a faux fur sweater. Oma doesn't do faux fur. I wonder at what age they will learn that Oma returns whatever you get her, well minus tickets for a cruise.....
you are my good luck charms...SCORE!!! Found them....If only their Oma was like their Auntie Mona, who wears whatever her babies buy them. And I mean she wears whatever my Mijo seems to only have two styles of dress for his mom - - hoochie mama or old maid. It's the oddest thing. In the years, I've taken him shopping I've never been able to direct him to a middle ground. Thank God, she has her nieces and nephew to give her a subtle skirt or pants to go with her blouse or sweater that her sons pick out.
Now off to wrapping.
Okay back to watching the Sing Off Christmas special and looking for these tops, including the one my mom is most definitely returning. The kids got her a faux fur sweater. Oma doesn't do faux fur. I wonder at what age they will learn that Oma returns whatever you get her, well minus tickets for a cruise.....
you are my good luck charms...SCORE!!! Found them....If only their Oma was like their Auntie Mona, who wears whatever her babies buy them. And I mean she wears whatever my Mijo seems to only have two styles of dress for his mom - - hoochie mama or old maid. It's the oddest thing. In the years, I've taken him shopping I've never been able to direct him to a middle ground. Thank God, she has her nieces and nephew to give her a subtle skirt or pants to go with her blouse or sweater that her sons pick out.
Now off to wrapping.
Belated Birthdays and Birthdays
So I missed this last month, but today it’s officially been 13 months since I started this blog. It is so me that I started this blog on Shane’s birthday. These past few months, I have been terrible at updating on a daily basis or even every other day basis. Things have just gotten crazy.
I should go back and read through past posts, see what we were doing six months ago or nine months ago. This has been fun sharing our lives with my loyal readers. One day, when I write a book entitled: Parenthood: Lies other mothers tell you and all that they don’t tell you, maybe I can use some of these posts in it. I’m glad I have this blog so maybe one day when TTT want to know what they were like as children, they can read some of my stories. I’m not the best at writing things down or taking a pictures so I’m glad I have this blog.
Thank you to all of my readers. I really appreciate, you taking time out of your busy day to see what’s going on in our world in the greatest city of the world. I know without even reading past postings that I am one blessed woman. I’ve got a Father who sent His only Son to die on the cross for me. I’ve got an awesome mother who makes my life possible. I have the terrific trio composed of: my beautiful baby boy and the amazing Irish twins. I have the coolest family in town. I have the best friends who encourage me, chastise me, inspire me, and make this journey called life so enjoyable. I never could have imagined having this life when I was going to WLAB, catching the bus with Grace, when Chi and I were having Park Region B-2 parties to go, when we were hearing about the evils and dangers of hang nails. When I was living in Butte and working at Big Brothers Big Sisters.
I’ve had my life mapped out plenty of times, from high school to college, as Shane could attest to. But I never would have picked this life, never would have seen a life like this, but I am so incredibly blessed to have the life I have. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, except upgrade it when my beloved Jorge Clooney and I marry. Chi, imagine how much we could see each other when I’ve got crazy movie star money at my disposal.
Thank you.
Happy Birthday, Mimi!!! I hope your day is filled with love, joy, happiness, and fun, my Redeemer buddy. Do you still think Don Johnson is hot? Mimi’s birthday and 13 months
I should go back and read through past posts, see what we were doing six months ago or nine months ago. This has been fun sharing our lives with my loyal readers. One day, when I write a book entitled: Parenthood: Lies other mothers tell you and all that they don’t tell you, maybe I can use some of these posts in it. I’m glad I have this blog so maybe one day when TTT want to know what they were like as children, they can read some of my stories. I’m not the best at writing things down or taking a pictures so I’m glad I have this blog.
Thank you to all of my readers. I really appreciate, you taking time out of your busy day to see what’s going on in our world in the greatest city of the world. I know without even reading past postings that I am one blessed woman. I’ve got a Father who sent His only Son to die on the cross for me. I’ve got an awesome mother who makes my life possible. I have the terrific trio composed of: my beautiful baby boy and the amazing Irish twins. I have the coolest family in town. I have the best friends who encourage me, chastise me, inspire me, and make this journey called life so enjoyable. I never could have imagined having this life when I was going to WLAB, catching the bus with Grace, when Chi and I were having Park Region B-2 parties to go, when we were hearing about the evils and dangers of hang nails. When I was living in Butte and working at Big Brothers Big Sisters.
I’ve had my life mapped out plenty of times, from high school to college, as Shane could attest to. But I never would have picked this life, never would have seen a life like this, but I am so incredibly blessed to have the life I have. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, except upgrade it when my beloved Jorge Clooney and I marry. Chi, imagine how much we could see each other when I’ve got crazy movie star money at my disposal.
Thank you.
Happy Birthday, Mimi!!! I hope your day is filled with love, joy, happiness, and fun, my Redeemer buddy. Do you still think Don Johnson is hot? Mimi’s birthday and 13 months
Groovin' to the music
Last Christmas my boss and friend gave me her boom box. We were between offices, getting rid of things we didn’t want or need or used, so she gave it to me to give to the kids. It sat in our house for nearly a year. No one had any interest in it.
When Jory’s room was finished, my mom put the boom box on his dresser. Within the last month, Jory has gone boom box crazy. He carries it from room to room and plugs it up. Who knew he was old enough to plug certain things up by himself?
He’s so proud of himself.
“Mommy, come here, your song is on.”
I’ve discovered almost every song that comes on the radio is my song.
“Mommy, come dance with us.”
“Rowan, Baby, come listen to the music.”
If he starts carrying that boom box on his shoulder, I’m going to let him grow an afro and buy him a pair of skates.
Who knew the joy one used boom box could bring to a six-year-old boy.
When Jory’s room was finished, my mom put the boom box on his dresser. Within the last month, Jory has gone boom box crazy. He carries it from room to room and plugs it up. Who knew he was old enough to plug certain things up by himself?
He’s so proud of himself.
“Mommy, come here, your song is on.”
I’ve discovered almost every song that comes on the radio is my song.
“Mommy, come dance with us.”
“Rowan, Baby, come listen to the music.”
If he starts carrying that boom box on his shoulder, I’m going to let him grow an afro and buy him a pair of skates.
Who knew the joy one used boom box could bring to a six-year-old boy.
Jumping Kids
Since Jory learned to jump into the pool, he always jumped close to the edge as if he’s afraid that if he starts to sink he doesn’t have that far to reach before he’s holding on to the edge of the pool. His Oma thinks this is dangerous. I don’t think he’s jumping that closely.
Rowan, on the other hand, is leaping out there. For a big girl, who only knows a pain threshold of 10, whose picture should be next to the definition of the boy who cried wolf, she goes flying towards Mr. Will’s arms, as he stands in the middle of the pool a few feet from the edge. I’m proud of my big girl for being so courageous and trusting.
I’m proud of my baby boy for jumping too.
Maybe if Layla can stop the tears, we’ll see what kind of a jumper she will be. She can be fearless when she wants to be.
Rowan, on the other hand, is leaping out there. For a big girl, who only knows a pain threshold of 10, whose picture should be next to the definition of the boy who cried wolf, she goes flying towards Mr. Will’s arms, as he stands in the middle of the pool a few feet from the edge. I’m proud of my big girl for being so courageous and trusting.
I’m proud of my baby boy for jumping too.
Maybe if Layla can stop the tears, we’ll see what kind of a jumper she will be. She can be fearless when she wants to be.
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