Oh once there was a world where doctor appointments were simple. While waiting for the doctor to make an appearance, the nurse came in and suggested Rowan take her hearing and vision test first. Sounds great to me, we could kill two birds with one stone.
After Rowan some fumbles, Rowan seemed to get the hang of the hearing test and past with flying colors. Which was strange because I call her name and she doesn’t hear me? Maybe I should have that test retaken. We moved on to the vision test.
Does she know her letters, the nurse asked me. Before I could answer, she decided to use the chart with the shapes. Rowan struggled naming the shapes, which I understood because those hearts didn’t look like any hearts I had ever seen. I could have drawn better hearts and I can’t draw. The nurse turned to me and said, she’s going to have to see the optometrist. Whoa, slow your roll missy, what do you mean? These drawings were made in hieroglyphic times. Let’s dry this again. Why don’t you guys go back to the room and we can try again later, the nurse suggested. That sounded like a plan.
The doctor came, saw, and conquered, then we had to hunt down a nurse who cold administer the vision test. Not sure why it can’t just be anyone in scrubs, but whatever. This time Rowan does the letters. She stumbled on some, which made me less than happy.
“Rowan, you don’t know what that letter is?”
“Rowan, stop playing.”
She needs to go see the optometrist, the nurse declared. UGH! Does this woman know I have to go to work and I’ve just been trying to keep three children entertained in a tiny room for the last three hours? Don’t do this to us. Fine, off to the optometrist we go, I can’t believe this little girl did this to us. This was suppose to be an in and out visit.
We got a referral for a doctor in the building. At least, something was going right. We went down to his office to set up an appointment. Yes, they were open on Saturdays. Yiippee! But if we waited ten minutes, the doctor could see Rowan now. I looked at the clock and figured we could wait. I spent those ten minutes trying to get people to leave the rocks in the water fountain alone. They were cagey and just wanted to be free, which I got, but come on. Last time, I bring all three when only one of them has an appointment. That was my bad.
Finally, we were called in. Everyone wanted to sit in the big black chair. The doctor explained Rowan had to sit in the chair. She sat down, leaned back, and they got started. Bing! Bam! Bang! She needs glasses, he says and needs to were a patch over her lazy eye for a few hours every day and see you back in three months. What?! Wait?! Are you sure? Lazy eye? What lazy eye? It’s not like she’s one of those people who you can’t tell which way they are looking. What happened to bedside manner and spending more than five minutes with your patients? Is that a thing of the past?
So a nurse ushered us to the eyeglass section and started trying on various glasses on Rowan. My head starts spinning when I have too many options. Where were the regular kid shaped glasses? Some of the glasses weren’t meant for kids Rowan age. Some made her look like an old maid. No, she doesn’t need glasses with Snoopy on them. One because he’s on the side so she’d never see it. And two, because I have to chip in with the insurance company to pay for them. I wanted a neutral color but there was none to be found. Rowan liked the pinkish ones, so I went with that because my head was about to explode. They didn’t fit flush against her face so we were then sent over to the eyeglass woman, where more glasses were tried on and where I discovered the baby had put some rocks from the fountain in her pockets. Why did no one tell me that there would be days when I would want to chuck them all?
The glasses would be ready in two weeks, the eyeglass technician informed me. I thanked her and we headed out the door.
Two weeks later, the glasses arrived along with a patch for Rowan’s eye.
Her Oma saw her wearing the patch and asked, “Is that for her lazy eye?”
What in the world?! Was I the only one not to notice?
Monday, April 23, 2012
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, yearly check ups were easy. We were in and out. And not literally in and out because even when you’re the first appointment and the doctor’s office, you’re still there for three hours for your ten minute visit. I’m being generous by saying ten.
It started with Layla. We go for her yearly check up. Oops, there’s a problem with her test results. She needs medication. And yeah, you’re going to have to take her to see another doctor and she’ll have to be on the meds for a while. What we didn’t mention she had to give a urine sample and now she won’t pee. Well you gotta take her to the lab those does our blood and urine sample work.
So you wake up early one Saturday morning and drive to the Valley to go to the lone lab facility that is open on Saturday. Then you proceed to spend an hour and a half there because she won’t pee. Even after being given tons of water. Sure, don’t pee now, but every time we’re ten minutes from the house or at some store with the nastiest bathroom known to mankind then you’ve got to pee like a banjee. We left the lab because it was closing and because she didn’t pee. Though they did let us keep the cup and maybe when she peed later, I could collect it, save it, and take it to a lab closer to my home. So I’m suppose to keep the container of pee? Yeah, why don’t I see that happening? I think we’ll have to try again next doctor’s visit.
It started with Layla. We go for her yearly check up. Oops, there’s a problem with her test results. She needs medication. And yeah, you’re going to have to take her to see another doctor and she’ll have to be on the meds for a while. What we didn’t mention she had to give a urine sample and now she won’t pee. Well you gotta take her to the lab those does our blood and urine sample work.
So you wake up early one Saturday morning and drive to the Valley to go to the lone lab facility that is open on Saturday. Then you proceed to spend an hour and a half there because she won’t pee. Even after being given tons of water. Sure, don’t pee now, but every time we’re ten minutes from the house or at some store with the nastiest bathroom known to mankind then you’ve got to pee like a banjee. We left the lab because it was closing and because she didn’t pee. Though they did let us keep the cup and maybe when she peed later, I could collect it, save it, and take it to a lab closer to my home. So I’m suppose to keep the container of pee? Yeah, why don’t I see that happening? I think we’ll have to try again next doctor’s visit.
School in the car
“Jory, spell speck.”
“Speck. S-p-e-c-k. Speck.”
“Good job. Now use it in a sentence.”
“Mmm, this speckghetti tastes good- - “
“Whoa! That’s spaghetti, little boy.”
He starts giggling hysterically.
“Speck. S-p-e-c-k. Speck.”
“Good job. Now use it in a sentence.”
“Mmm, this speckghetti tastes good- - “
“Whoa! That’s spaghetti, little boy.”
He starts giggling hysterically.
They are growing up
On Saturday, we were walking to the library. The baby hopped into the back of the stroller, much to Rowan’s displeasure. As we waited for the first light to change, Rowan turned towards the baby.
“Baby, can you please stop singing?! You’re giving me a headache.”
I had to stop myself from laughing and asking Rowan what exactly a headache is.
“Baby, can you please stop singing?! You’re giving me a headache.”
I had to stop myself from laughing and asking Rowan what exactly a headache is.
They are growing up II
Another sign, my children are growing up.
“Baby, can you please stop doing that. It’s annoying,” Jory informed his littlest sister.
It’s annoying? Where did he learn that? And how is he able to use it in a sentence? And how can he learn and use that word so easily, but still can’t 100% of the time tell me what time it is on a manual clock?
“Baby, can you please stop doing that. It’s annoying,” Jory informed his littlest sister.
It’s annoying? Where did he learn that? And how is he able to use it in a sentence? And how can he learn and use that word so easily, but still can’t 100% of the time tell me what time it is on a manual clock?
Friday, April 20, 2012
The aftermath of Auntie Whitney
“Oma, Auntie Whitney is taking me to the movies,” Rowan declared.
“Oh that’s nice,” Oma responded.
“Tomorrow, she’s taking me,” the five-year-old continued.
Wait- - what did she just say? “Rowan, you’re not going to the movies tomorrow with Auntie Whitney.”
She nodded her head. “Auntie Whitney said she was taking me to the movies on Sunday.”
“No, baby, she said she would take you when a good movie comes out, but not tomorrow. Okay?”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed.
Thanks a lot Auntie Whitney.
“Oh that’s nice,” Oma responded.
“Tomorrow, she’s taking me,” the five-year-old continued.
Wait- - what did she just say? “Rowan, you’re not going to the movies tomorrow with Auntie Whitney.”
She nodded her head. “Auntie Whitney said she was taking me to the movies on Sunday.”
“No, baby, she said she would take you when a good movie comes out, but not tomorrow. Okay?”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed.
Thanks a lot Auntie Whitney.
Auntie Whitney and Chuck E. Cheese
So on Saturday, we left the family’s newest craze throwing jewelry parties to go meet up with Aunt Whitney. It’s been so long since the kids last saw her, I’m not sure if they would recognize her.
True love is agreeing to meet at Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday afternoon. We find a park in front of Chuck, get stamped, and find a table right next to the window. The kids had just eaten at my aunt’s so I didn’t have to worry about buying overpriced pizzas, that only happens for Jory’s birthday. I told the kids to go play on the free stuff until Aunt Whitney came. They went off and played and a short while later Aunt Whitney shows up. She buys tokens, and is now instantly everyone’s favorite aunt, and the kids scatter to the four corners of the earth.
She and I catch up and chat about any and everything. It’s so awesome having friends who you don’t see often or talk to on a super regular basis, but if you need them they come and when you see each other it’s like no time has passed at all. While we’re talking, I noticed something, then I noticed it again, and again.
The tables in front of us and behind us have had several different families sit in them while we sat and watited for the kids to come to drop off tickets and ask for more tokens and eat some of Aunt Whitney’s breadsticks and drink their sodas.
“Whitney, are these families coming here for the food?” I asked. I hadn’t seen their kids, leave the table with tokens in their hands.
“Yes, they only came for the food,” she answered.
“They came to Chuck E. Cheese to pay double the price of a pizza that they could buy anywhere else. A pizza that isn’t even good?” This couldn’t be right.
She nodded.
How is that possible?! Have these people never tasted pizza before? I only eat the pizza from their because it would be rude not to eat at my own son’s birthday party, plus on those Christmas Eve mornings I don’t usually eat breakfast so I’m starving by the time the pizza arrives at our table. And even starving that pizza isn’t good. Who knew such people existed? People who only came to Chuck to eat. This is how we know sin exists. Thanks Adam and Eve for ruining people’s taste buds.
True love is agreeing to meet at Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday afternoon. We find a park in front of Chuck, get stamped, and find a table right next to the window. The kids had just eaten at my aunt’s so I didn’t have to worry about buying overpriced pizzas, that only happens for Jory’s birthday. I told the kids to go play on the free stuff until Aunt Whitney came. They went off and played and a short while later Aunt Whitney shows up. She buys tokens, and is now instantly everyone’s favorite aunt, and the kids scatter to the four corners of the earth.
She and I catch up and chat about any and everything. It’s so awesome having friends who you don’t see often or talk to on a super regular basis, but if you need them they come and when you see each other it’s like no time has passed at all. While we’re talking, I noticed something, then I noticed it again, and again.
The tables in front of us and behind us have had several different families sit in them while we sat and watited for the kids to come to drop off tickets and ask for more tokens and eat some of Aunt Whitney’s breadsticks and drink their sodas.
“Whitney, are these families coming here for the food?” I asked. I hadn’t seen their kids, leave the table with tokens in their hands.
“Yes, they only came for the food,” she answered.
“They came to Chuck E. Cheese to pay double the price of a pizza that they could buy anywhere else. A pizza that isn’t even good?” This couldn’t be right.
She nodded.
How is that possible?! Have these people never tasted pizza before? I only eat the pizza from their because it would be rude not to eat at my own son’s birthday party, plus on those Christmas Eve mornings I don’t usually eat breakfast so I’m starving by the time the pizza arrives at our table. And even starving that pizza isn’t good. Who knew such people existed? People who only came to Chuck to eat. This is how we know sin exists. Thanks Adam and Eve for ruining people’s taste buds.
Motherly love
So my mom and her sisters decided to brave the madness that is called the mall, the day before Easter. A dangerous place to be on that day, kinda like being in the mall on Christmas Eve. Since no one had a car large enough for everyone to fit in, they decided to catch the bus to the Del Amo Mall.
My aunts who lived further way told my mom they would call her when they neared the stop closest to our house so she could jump on the bus. As my mom readied herself, she said, “I don’t know how I feel about riding the bus all this distance. Transients and people with diseases sit in those seats.”
“You don’t sit down when you catch the bus in the mornings and evenings?” I asked incredulously.
“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “I stand the whole way. I don’t want to catch anything.”
Thank goodness she doesn’t have to ride far. Wait a minute- - “So you can’t sit down because you might catch something, but from seventh to twelfth grade I rode the bus for a minimum of forty-five minutes each way to get to and from school, but it was okay if I got some disease and died? That’s great.”
“Well, I didn’t know better back then.”
Motherly love at its finest moment.
My aunts who lived further way told my mom they would call her when they neared the stop closest to our house so she could jump on the bus. As my mom readied herself, she said, “I don’t know how I feel about riding the bus all this distance. Transients and people with diseases sit in those seats.”
“You don’t sit down when you catch the bus in the mornings and evenings?” I asked incredulously.
“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “I stand the whole way. I don’t want to catch anything.”
Thank goodness she doesn’t have to ride far. Wait a minute- - “So you can’t sit down because you might catch something, but from seventh to twelfth grade I rode the bus for a minimum of forty-five minutes each way to get to and from school, but it was okay if I got some disease and died? That’s great.”
“Well, I didn’t know better back then.”
Motherly love at its finest moment.
Aunt Yash
I called to talk to Mona, but Kayla picked up the phone, which meant Mona was exercising. Kayla and I talked for a bit, then Mona picked up the phone.
And then Kayla yelled, “Mom, Aunt Yash is on the phone.”
“Thanks, Kayla. I have the phone,” Mona responded from the other room.
“Bye, Aunt Yash. I love you,” my six-year-old niece said before hanging up the phone.
My heart skipped a few beats. There is nothing like hearing your niece or nephew saying, “I love you” to you. I love being an aunt.
And then Kayla yelled, “Mom, Aunt Yash is on the phone.”
“Thanks, Kayla. I have the phone,” Mona responded from the other room.
“Bye, Aunt Yash. I love you,” my six-year-old niece said before hanging up the phone.
My heart skipped a few beats. There is nothing like hearing your niece or nephew saying, “I love you” to you. I love being an aunt.
We're not that close..
We ran out of the kids’ dental floss, so we had to use the adult one. I didn’t think much about it as I cut a piece of floss off and started wrapping it around my index fingers. I started with the baby and things were going great at first, while I was flossing her front teeth. But as we moved closer to the back of her mouth and finally I was in her mouth, I thought this is disgusting. We are not this close that my fingers should be in her mouth. We’re just not. Tomorrow I’m going to buy their kids’ floss at my lunch, so we never have to do this again.
Easter
Resurrection Day was awesome. Awesome because we were celebrating the day our Savior rose from the grave. Because we’ve been blessed to be part of a family of believers. Because we can go to church with our family and celebrate and praise God for His goodness and mercy. And afterwards go to our aunt’s house and eat, talk, and celebrate together some more.
After lunch, the girls enjoyed playing with the wagons their aunt uses to transport her plants and dirt from the backyard to the front and Jory, courtesy of Uncle Bobby and his I phone, discovered the world of Angry Birds and he was hooked. So hooked that I’m pretty sure he didn’t utter a word when I ushered him into the room with his great uncle to sit in the recliner to play the game without being in everyone’s way in the living room. So hooked that he didn’t even notice that said uncle was sitting directly in front of him watching a minister on TV, completely blocking Jory’s view of the TV. Wow, never seem him like that before with a computer game.
The family was talking when my eighteen-year-old cousin walked in, wearing what I am now calling va-jay-jay hugging shorts, with her hair flowing down her back and rockin’ four inch heels. Sometimes when women wear things that are too tight or too short, you can tell they are self-conscious because they are always tugging and pulling on their clothing, but not my little cousin. She walked around like she was wearing a normal outfit. It’s strange to see someone and think if she added five or six more inches that outfit was be appropriate, yet still cute. So no one says anything and then she was walking out the door, when her aunt stopped her.
“Where are you going?” her aunt asked her.
“I’m going to the swapmeet to get my brother some shoes,” the eighteen-year-old answered.
“Could you stop by Payless for me?” her aunt inquired.
“I don’t think they are open, but the swapmeet is because the owners are Korean and they don’t celebrate Easter,” she replied.
I was sitting next to her aunt watching, hearing the interplay and I was stunned. Did she just say Koreans don’t celebrate Easter? Seriously?! Seriously?
“Well, if you don’t think Payless is open- -“ her aunt continued.
“No, Easter is like an American holiday and Koreans don’t celebrate it.”
Seriously. She just said, what I had hoped she hadn’t said.
“That’s okay then. See you later,” her aunt concluded.
My cousin stood up, bid us adieu, and left.
I turned to her aunt/my older cousin and said, “You’re her aunt and a minister’s wife. Her grandpa is a minister. Don’t you think you should have schooled her on what Easter means?”
“She knows what Easter means. She was generalizing,” my older cousin said to me.
I turned away and thought I won’t even continue this conversation. It can’t be possible my cousin is a hoochie mama or dresses like a hoochie mama and dumb. You can’t be both.
When I later thought of this conversation, I realized not only did my cousin say that Easter was an American holiday, you know like Veteran’s Day or 4th of July; and that she didn’t get the whole Jesus being beaten and crucified for our sins and rose from the grave so that we could if we so choose spend eternity with him; but she also was saying that Koreans weren’t Americans.
I said to a friend, my cousin can’t be a dumb hoochie mama. But then she reminded me that hoochie mamas are mostly dumb. She was right. Sadly, she was right.
After lunch, the girls enjoyed playing with the wagons their aunt uses to transport her plants and dirt from the backyard to the front and Jory, courtesy of Uncle Bobby and his I phone, discovered the world of Angry Birds and he was hooked. So hooked that I’m pretty sure he didn’t utter a word when I ushered him into the room with his great uncle to sit in the recliner to play the game without being in everyone’s way in the living room. So hooked that he didn’t even notice that said uncle was sitting directly in front of him watching a minister on TV, completely blocking Jory’s view of the TV. Wow, never seem him like that before with a computer game.
The family was talking when my eighteen-year-old cousin walked in, wearing what I am now calling va-jay-jay hugging shorts, with her hair flowing down her back and rockin’ four inch heels. Sometimes when women wear things that are too tight or too short, you can tell they are self-conscious because they are always tugging and pulling on their clothing, but not my little cousin. She walked around like she was wearing a normal outfit. It’s strange to see someone and think if she added five or six more inches that outfit was be appropriate, yet still cute. So no one says anything and then she was walking out the door, when her aunt stopped her.
“Where are you going?” her aunt asked her.
“I’m going to the swapmeet to get my brother some shoes,” the eighteen-year-old answered.
“Could you stop by Payless for me?” her aunt inquired.
“I don’t think they are open, but the swapmeet is because the owners are Korean and they don’t celebrate Easter,” she replied.
I was sitting next to her aunt watching, hearing the interplay and I was stunned. Did she just say Koreans don’t celebrate Easter? Seriously?! Seriously?
“Well, if you don’t think Payless is open- -“ her aunt continued.
“No, Easter is like an American holiday and Koreans don’t celebrate it.”
Seriously. She just said, what I had hoped she hadn’t said.
“That’s okay then. See you later,” her aunt concluded.
My cousin stood up, bid us adieu, and left.
I turned to her aunt/my older cousin and said, “You’re her aunt and a minister’s wife. Her grandpa is a minister. Don’t you think you should have schooled her on what Easter means?”
“She knows what Easter means. She was generalizing,” my older cousin said to me.
I turned away and thought I won’t even continue this conversation. It can’t be possible my cousin is a hoochie mama or dresses like a hoochie mama and dumb. You can’t be both.
When I later thought of this conversation, I realized not only did my cousin say that Easter was an American holiday, you know like Veteran’s Day or 4th of July; and that she didn’t get the whole Jesus being beaten and crucified for our sins and rose from the grave so that we could if we so choose spend eternity with him; but she also was saying that Koreans weren’t Americans.
I said to a friend, my cousin can’t be a dumb hoochie mama. But then she reminded me that hoochie mamas are mostly dumb. She was right. Sadly, she was right.
Microwaves
I walked through the door and Jory greeted me with a hug.
“What did you do while I was gone?” I asked as I put my stuff down.
“Oma let us play outside. Rowan cooked in the microwave and we had to open all the doors because the house smelled. Oma said Rowan couldn’t use the microwave anymore,” Jory answered.
Wait, what? There was so much wrong with his last two statements. Why was a four-year-old using the microwave by herself? And really? Really?!?! Who was my mother to critique Rowan’s microwaving abilities? The woman who only seems to know how to set the timer on 10 minutes or 20 minutes to heat food, which is fine because she’ll “remember” that in two minutes she’ll have to stop the microwave because the food will really be warmed then. And she’s never forgotten when the two or three minutes were up. Nope, never.
Yeah, I wisely didn’t comment on the microwave adventure. Best to let that go.
“What did you do while I was gone?” I asked as I put my stuff down.
“Oma let us play outside. Rowan cooked in the microwave and we had to open all the doors because the house smelled. Oma said Rowan couldn’t use the microwave anymore,” Jory answered.
Wait, what? There was so much wrong with his last two statements. Why was a four-year-old using the microwave by herself? And really? Really?!?! Who was my mother to critique Rowan’s microwaving abilities? The woman who only seems to know how to set the timer on 10 minutes or 20 minutes to heat food, which is fine because she’ll “remember” that in two minutes she’ll have to stop the microwave because the food will really be warmed then. And she’s never forgotten when the two or three minutes were up. Nope, never.
Yeah, I wisely didn’t comment on the microwave adventure. Best to let that go.
Cars and Kids
We drove home from church and as soon as I parked, I unlocked the door and we began cleaning out the truck. Somehow the baby disappeared into the house, so it was just Rowan and Jory cleaning up their messes, while I went through the papers that had accumulated in the car over the past week or so. As I talked to my friend, Ashley, on the phone, I noticed my mom’s car, that hadn’t been driven since the accident in December, was moving forward and that Rowan was in the car.
Life turned into an action film during one of those slo-mo scenes. I remember running out of my car as the papers and phone fell out of my lap, my earpiece fell out of my ear on to the ground as I ran to my mom’s car and jumped in to stop it. I couldn’t even form a prayer, but God knew what I was praying for and asking.
I got in the car just as the fence stopped the car from rolling anymore. I quickly put the car in gear and thought if Rowan had crashed through this gate and hit the house we’ve been remodeling for the last thirteen months, I might have had to hurt her myself.
We got out the car and I locked all the doors behind me. Jory and Rowan stood on the steps and I gave them the look.
“Don’t you ever do anything like that again! We do not put cars in gear! We do not play in cars. Do you understand?” I questioned fiercely.
“Yes,” they both answered.
“Get inside the house, now,” I commanded.
And they quickly went in.
I shared the story with my friend, Paul, and he asked if I had punished Rowan. I thought about it and said, “No.” Then I thought about it some more. Usually if something happens, the kids will talk about it later or tell their Oma. But this time they had remained silent. They hadn’t even said anything to the baby. I realized I had put the fear of God into the two of them. And looking at the bright side, it’s nice to know that if I can’t use my arms to put the car in gear, Rowan could do it for me.
Life turned into an action film during one of those slo-mo scenes. I remember running out of my car as the papers and phone fell out of my lap, my earpiece fell out of my ear on to the ground as I ran to my mom’s car and jumped in to stop it. I couldn’t even form a prayer, but God knew what I was praying for and asking.
I got in the car just as the fence stopped the car from rolling anymore. I quickly put the car in gear and thought if Rowan had crashed through this gate and hit the house we’ve been remodeling for the last thirteen months, I might have had to hurt her myself.
We got out the car and I locked all the doors behind me. Jory and Rowan stood on the steps and I gave them the look.
“Don’t you ever do anything like that again! We do not put cars in gear! We do not play in cars. Do you understand?” I questioned fiercely.
“Yes,” they both answered.
“Get inside the house, now,” I commanded.
And they quickly went in.
I shared the story with my friend, Paul, and he asked if I had punished Rowan. I thought about it and said, “No.” Then I thought about it some more. Usually if something happens, the kids will talk about it later or tell their Oma. But this time they had remained silent. They hadn’t even said anything to the baby. I realized I had put the fear of God into the two of them. And looking at the bright side, it’s nice to know that if I can’t use my arms to put the car in gear, Rowan could do it for me.
Valuable Lesson
I decided TTT deserved a break from cereal or oatmeal for breakfast on the weekends, so I decided to cook eggs. When the baby saw me take eggs out of the fridge, she asked if she could help cook. Sure why not, it was a happy Saturday morning. The baby and were scrambling her egg when Rowan woke up and wandered into the kitchen.
“Mommy, can I help cook too?” she asked.
“You can cook your own egg as soon as your sister is finished,” I answered.
The baby finished and I put her in her high chair to enjoy her eggs. Rowan stepped into the chair her sister vacated and cracked her eggs and we cooked.
“Mommy, is it my turn to cook my eggs?” Jory wondered.
“In a minute.”
Jory got his plate out and a fork. He was ready to go.
Rowan was finished. I put her at the table, slid her hot eggs on her plate, and then got started with my big boy. We were happily cooking when I had to go into the other room. I turned the fire off and told Jory I would be right back. He got out of his chair and sat down.
I was talking to my mom when I heard….
“Mommy, it’s burning! The table is burning,” Rowan cried out.
I walked quickly into the kitchen to see what she was talking about. Yes, I walked instead of ran because this is the girl who cried wolf yelling. I arrived into the kitchen to find that Rowan was right. The table had been burnt.
In his bid to be a helpful, big boy, Jory decided he would take the pan off the stove and instead of hold it like I did while I put the eggs on the girls’ plates; he decided to put the pan on the vinyl poker table. The hot pan on the vinyl poker table. So I picked up the pan which had cool some that had black vinyl attached to it and a table with a circular patch of black vinyl missing from it. I cleaned the pan and then turned TTT.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Jory apologized/mumbled.
“It’s okay, but we’ve learned an important lesson. We do not move pots and pans off the stove unless Mommy is in the kitchen and tells you to. And we never, ever put a hot pan or pot on the table or the counter. Okay?”
“Okay,” TTT answered.
My mom walked into the kitchen. “Was something burning?”
“Yes and we just learned a valuable lesson about putting hot pans on tables,” I replied.
She looked at the table, rolled her eyes, but didn’t say a word, as I encouraged the kids to finish eating their breakfasts.
You just never know when a teachable moment will just pop up. And let’s praise God this happened on the poker table because if this had happened on her good table, she might have had a stroke.
“Mommy, can I help cook too?” she asked.
“You can cook your own egg as soon as your sister is finished,” I answered.
The baby finished and I put her in her high chair to enjoy her eggs. Rowan stepped into the chair her sister vacated and cracked her eggs and we cooked.
“Mommy, is it my turn to cook my eggs?” Jory wondered.
“In a minute.”
Jory got his plate out and a fork. He was ready to go.
Rowan was finished. I put her at the table, slid her hot eggs on her plate, and then got started with my big boy. We were happily cooking when I had to go into the other room. I turned the fire off and told Jory I would be right back. He got out of his chair and sat down.
I was talking to my mom when I heard….
“Mommy, it’s burning! The table is burning,” Rowan cried out.
I walked quickly into the kitchen to see what she was talking about. Yes, I walked instead of ran because this is the girl who cried wolf yelling. I arrived into the kitchen to find that Rowan was right. The table had been burnt.
In his bid to be a helpful, big boy, Jory decided he would take the pan off the stove and instead of hold it like I did while I put the eggs on the girls’ plates; he decided to put the pan on the vinyl poker table. The hot pan on the vinyl poker table. So I picked up the pan which had cool some that had black vinyl attached to it and a table with a circular patch of black vinyl missing from it. I cleaned the pan and then turned TTT.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Jory apologized/mumbled.
“It’s okay, but we’ve learned an important lesson. We do not move pots and pans off the stove unless Mommy is in the kitchen and tells you to. And we never, ever put a hot pan or pot on the table or the counter. Okay?”
“Okay,” TTT answered.
My mom walked into the kitchen. “Was something burning?”
“Yes and we just learned a valuable lesson about putting hot pans on tables,” I replied.
She looked at the table, rolled her eyes, but didn’t say a word, as I encouraged the kids to finish eating their breakfasts.
You just never know when a teachable moment will just pop up. And let’s praise God this happened on the poker table because if this had happened on her good table, she might have had a stroke.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Flossing and teeth
While Rowan doesn’t like to brush her teeth, she does love flossing. She’ll be the first one to get the dental floss out so she can have her teeth flossed. While flossing her teeth, then her siblings, I realized how awesome her teeth are. There is space between them and which makes it easy to get in and out of her teeth.
Who knew such a thing would be considered an awesome thing. This motherhood ride is a crazy one.
Who knew such a thing would be considered an awesome thing. This motherhood ride is a crazy one.
Learning to read
I had been down about Jory’s reading. I wasn’t sitting down with him, getting him to read, teach him to read, or rather increase his reading skills. I was sort of freaking out a little. I talked to a co-worker who unschools his kids and felt somewhat better about things.
Then on Friday night at AWANA, Jory comes up to me and asks if he could have a package of seaweed as he sees his Sparks mates have.
“You’re going to eat seaweed?” Really?!
“Yes,” he assured me.
The woman in the kitchen handed me a pack and I handed it to Jory. He thanked us and went back to his Sparks class. The woman and I continued talking. Some time later, Jory appeared at my side.
“Mommy, this says, ‘Do not eat’, so here you go,” he informed me, while handing me a small white packet that said in bold type DO NOT EAT.
My boy can read! Yippee! He can read when it counts. Thank you, Jesus! This evening would have turned out a whole lot different if he couldn’t . Thanks for the shout out that I’m on the right path and I’m not ruining him.
Then on Friday night at AWANA, Jory comes up to me and asks if he could have a package of seaweed as he sees his Sparks mates have.
“You’re going to eat seaweed?” Really?!
“Yes,” he assured me.
The woman in the kitchen handed me a pack and I handed it to Jory. He thanked us and went back to his Sparks class. The woman and I continued talking. Some time later, Jory appeared at my side.
“Mommy, this says, ‘Do not eat’, so here you go,” he informed me, while handing me a small white packet that said in bold type DO NOT EAT.
My boy can read! Yippee! He can read when it counts. Thank you, Jesus! This evening would have turned out a whole lot different if he couldn’t . Thanks for the shout out that I’m on the right path and I’m not ruining him.
Good Friday
Thursday before Easter, Jory and I drove all the way to Culver City so I could get the last item we needed for Easter, ribbons for the girls’ hair. I knew there was a fabric store in the Fox Hills Mall. We walk in and I don’t see it. So I thought I would stop into the Hallmark store that has been around for forever and a day and ask. A woman purchasing some items informed me that the fabric store didn’t make the cut when they upscaled the mall. Crap, now we drove all the way over here for nothing. And I couldn’t find the receipt I needed to return dresses to Marshall’s. This was just a winning evening all around.
Good Friday arrived and I knew of only two far away fabric stores. I googled fabric stores near my job and found two. I got off early and rushed to the store. Oh the choices, the choices. Six ribbons at eighteen inches a piece in various colors and forty-five minutes later, I was out the door. Crap, it was almost four. We had an appointment to take pictures at six and I still had to unbraid Rowan’s hair. Thank goodness I decided on a simple hairstyle this year. Nothing fancy or creative.
I got home, said hello, grabbed Rowan, and watched Fashion Star (why in the world do I like this show? Well, I don’t like it, but something fascinates me about it), while I unbraided her hair. An hour passed and finally we were finished. The race is on to get everyone dressed, ready, and out the door.
Do I do the girls’ hair first, then dress them? Or do I dress them and then do their hair? Decisions. Decisions.
“Mommy, my head hurts,” Jory told me.
Crap! “Give me one second baby and I’ll give you something.”
I got the girls undressed. They put on their socks and shoes and now it was time to ply their hair with all products we have in the house to keep it nice and still for our pictures. Two side ponytails, hair down in the back. Their new pink ribbon adorning their brand new ponytail holders. One girl down, then I gave Jory his medicine, then on to the next girl.
Why can’t this baby keep her head still and in the direction I need it to be? Doesn’t she understand the clock is ticking?!
“Jory, come here so I can get you dressed,” I yelled through the door.
“He’s sleep,” my mom yelled back.
UGH! Okay, he could get dressed at Sears. The show must continue. It’s past six, but we were finally ready to head out the door. I throw my wallet in a bag with the brush, comb, and hair jail.
Hmm, the girls’ ponytails were too far back. They needed something. I quickly ran in their room and found their pink headbands. Yes, the pink and white “pearl” one worked. I’m so glad Jory bought those for them as a Christmas present two years ago.
I helped the girls get into the car, passed the men working on the side door. Praying they’d be careful, these dresses could not get dirty. They had to wear them on Sunday.
“Girls, be careful. Don’t lean up against anything. Just get in the car and get into your carseats,” I commanded.
I woke Jory up and he was not happy.
“Can I take my pillowpet?” he asked.
“Yes, you can,” I answered.
“You’re going to let him take that inside the store,” my mom questioned, horrified at the idea of her grandson appearing so babyish.
Really, mom? Really. He doesn’t feel good and if I could have thought of a way to take the pictures later, I would have left him at home, but there wasn’t, so sadly, he’s going to have to take one for the team. So if his pillowpet helped his ability to stand up at bat, then that’s what he was taking.
“He’ll leave it in the car,” I replied, then quickly hustled him and his clothes into the car.
We arrived at Sears at 6:15. So not too horribly late. I carried my trying to go back to sleep baby, while making sure the girls didn’t get dirty. Forty-eight pounds of dead weight was a lot to carry. When did he get so heavy? Carrying him wasn’t this hard seven years ago?
The “photographers” were waiting for us. Thankfully they saw that I had my hands full and jumped into action, since the place was dead. The girls were more then ready to take pictures so things quickly came together. I just told them we were taking birthday pictures and the kids’ ages, and Easter pictures. They chose the backdrops and started snapping away at the girls as I coaxed Jory awake and got him dressed.
My poor baby wasn’t looking so happy. If he didn’t take pictures, then I would still have to redress the girls because they would have to take a group picture and pictures with him. Nope, while I covered his face with a coat to block out the lights, I knew he had to push through and take the pictures.
The girls were all done. They had taken individual shots, birthday shots, and shots together. Now it was all on Jory.
“Jory, are you ready to take your pictures?”
“No,” he whispered.
“Baby, it’ll be real quick. Come on. The faster we do it, the faster it’ll be over.”
I walked him over next to the seven statue. The photographer posed him and they started snapping away with me slightly off camera, trying to encourage him and in between shots wipe his tear-filled eyes. If he had a different mother, she would have held him again, picked out the girls’ pictures she wanted to purchase, and left. But he didn’t get a different mommy, he got me. I was over coming to Sears on a Saturday, that’s what one child Yash did, three children Yash could only come hear on Friday evenings, but our Friday evenings are filled with AWANA. I had given him drugs, which had to kick in soon, so yep, we were staying. I looked at his pictures. Each one sadder, than the next, it was sort of sad. On to the group shots, it was.
“Can you please pose with your sisters? We’ll only take three shots and then we’ll be done, okay?”
Jory shook his head.
“Please?”
He did nothing.
That was a yes. Well it was a yes, anyway, but glad that he was agreeable.
One, two, three pictures.
“Mommy, you said three,” Jory reminded me.
I looked at the pictures. They were decent, I could find one to purchase.
“Okay, that’s good.”
The photo session was over and we waited for the pictures to be ready for viewing. Finally they were ready. Yikes!
Jory just looked sad. Sad, sad, sadder, which one do you I choose? At least in the three shots, he didn’t look like he was on the verge of tears. What to do? What to do? That’s when I noticed Jory was pushing his airplane on the chairs.
Wait a minute, he was no longer shunning his face from light. He wasn’t sititng in my lap, or laying on the chairs trying to sleep. The drugs had kicked in.
“Jory, do you think you could take your seven pictures again?”
“No,” he said, shyly.
“Yes, you can.”
He smiled.
“I’ll hold your airplane for you.”
He smiled again. We were in. I asked the photographer if we could redo Jory’s pictures.
Yes, this was more like it. He wasn’t bringing his A game, but for now I’ll happily take his B/C game.
He wouldn’t let the seven statue go in some shots. Okay, now the group pictures could be retaken. As TTT were taking the shots, there was this nagging in the back of my head. What was I forgetting? What was I missing?
They finished photo session part deux and as I was looking at the pics, I realized what I had forgotten. The two shots. Jory and Rowan. Jory and Layla. I looked over my son who was flying his plane around and his sisters who were playing with his space shuttle. Jory had taken one for the team today, so I would take one too. This year there would only be individual birthday pictures and the group pictures. I chose the photos I thought were best, then I realized I had forgotten to get a picture of the girls together. Got it.
It was hard picking out pictures while reminding people not to get their clothes dirty and to stay still. Though in keeping with my being wise with money, I ordered less photos than usual. I just sent out their Christmas picture less than four months ago. They hadn’t changed that much since then. Pictures ordered and we were out the door.
As is our tradition, I quickly got them home and stripped them. Then I left to go get dinner. TTT wanted to use their McD’s gift cards. I love kids who can pay for their own meals. After all I went through I deserved my own meal, El Pollo Loco it was for me. And since I was feeling generous, I sensed my mother wasn’t really feeling El Pollo Loco. I asked her what she wanted and she said, Popeye’s. So another stop it was. Then I was back home, we ate, sat and relaxed, then it was time for bed. What a very long afternoon.
Good Friday arrived and I knew of only two far away fabric stores. I googled fabric stores near my job and found two. I got off early and rushed to the store. Oh the choices, the choices. Six ribbons at eighteen inches a piece in various colors and forty-five minutes later, I was out the door. Crap, it was almost four. We had an appointment to take pictures at six and I still had to unbraid Rowan’s hair. Thank goodness I decided on a simple hairstyle this year. Nothing fancy or creative.
I got home, said hello, grabbed Rowan, and watched Fashion Star (why in the world do I like this show? Well, I don’t like it, but something fascinates me about it), while I unbraided her hair. An hour passed and finally we were finished. The race is on to get everyone dressed, ready, and out the door.
Do I do the girls’ hair first, then dress them? Or do I dress them and then do their hair? Decisions. Decisions.
“Mommy, my head hurts,” Jory told me.
Crap! “Give me one second baby and I’ll give you something.”
I got the girls undressed. They put on their socks and shoes and now it was time to ply their hair with all products we have in the house to keep it nice and still for our pictures. Two side ponytails, hair down in the back. Their new pink ribbon adorning their brand new ponytail holders. One girl down, then I gave Jory his medicine, then on to the next girl.
Why can’t this baby keep her head still and in the direction I need it to be? Doesn’t she understand the clock is ticking?!
“Jory, come here so I can get you dressed,” I yelled through the door.
“He’s sleep,” my mom yelled back.
UGH! Okay, he could get dressed at Sears. The show must continue. It’s past six, but we were finally ready to head out the door. I throw my wallet in a bag with the brush, comb, and hair jail.
Hmm, the girls’ ponytails were too far back. They needed something. I quickly ran in their room and found their pink headbands. Yes, the pink and white “pearl” one worked. I’m so glad Jory bought those for them as a Christmas present two years ago.
I helped the girls get into the car, passed the men working on the side door. Praying they’d be careful, these dresses could not get dirty. They had to wear them on Sunday.
“Girls, be careful. Don’t lean up against anything. Just get in the car and get into your carseats,” I commanded.
I woke Jory up and he was not happy.
“Can I take my pillowpet?” he asked.
“Yes, you can,” I answered.
“You’re going to let him take that inside the store,” my mom questioned, horrified at the idea of her grandson appearing so babyish.
Really, mom? Really. He doesn’t feel good and if I could have thought of a way to take the pictures later, I would have left him at home, but there wasn’t, so sadly, he’s going to have to take one for the team. So if his pillowpet helped his ability to stand up at bat, then that’s what he was taking.
“He’ll leave it in the car,” I replied, then quickly hustled him and his clothes into the car.
We arrived at Sears at 6:15. So not too horribly late. I carried my trying to go back to sleep baby, while making sure the girls didn’t get dirty. Forty-eight pounds of dead weight was a lot to carry. When did he get so heavy? Carrying him wasn’t this hard seven years ago?
The “photographers” were waiting for us. Thankfully they saw that I had my hands full and jumped into action, since the place was dead. The girls were more then ready to take pictures so things quickly came together. I just told them we were taking birthday pictures and the kids’ ages, and Easter pictures. They chose the backdrops and started snapping away at the girls as I coaxed Jory awake and got him dressed.
My poor baby wasn’t looking so happy. If he didn’t take pictures, then I would still have to redress the girls because they would have to take a group picture and pictures with him. Nope, while I covered his face with a coat to block out the lights, I knew he had to push through and take the pictures.
The girls were all done. They had taken individual shots, birthday shots, and shots together. Now it was all on Jory.
“Jory, are you ready to take your pictures?”
“No,” he whispered.
“Baby, it’ll be real quick. Come on. The faster we do it, the faster it’ll be over.”
I walked him over next to the seven statue. The photographer posed him and they started snapping away with me slightly off camera, trying to encourage him and in between shots wipe his tear-filled eyes. If he had a different mother, she would have held him again, picked out the girls’ pictures she wanted to purchase, and left. But he didn’t get a different mommy, he got me. I was over coming to Sears on a Saturday, that’s what one child Yash did, three children Yash could only come hear on Friday evenings, but our Friday evenings are filled with AWANA. I had given him drugs, which had to kick in soon, so yep, we were staying. I looked at his pictures. Each one sadder, than the next, it was sort of sad. On to the group shots, it was.
“Can you please pose with your sisters? We’ll only take three shots and then we’ll be done, okay?”
Jory shook his head.
“Please?”
He did nothing.
That was a yes. Well it was a yes, anyway, but glad that he was agreeable.
One, two, three pictures.
“Mommy, you said three,” Jory reminded me.
I looked at the pictures. They were decent, I could find one to purchase.
“Okay, that’s good.”
The photo session was over and we waited for the pictures to be ready for viewing. Finally they were ready. Yikes!
Jory just looked sad. Sad, sad, sadder, which one do you I choose? At least in the three shots, he didn’t look like he was on the verge of tears. What to do? What to do? That’s when I noticed Jory was pushing his airplane on the chairs.
Wait a minute, he was no longer shunning his face from light. He wasn’t sititng in my lap, or laying on the chairs trying to sleep. The drugs had kicked in.
“Jory, do you think you could take your seven pictures again?”
“No,” he said, shyly.
“Yes, you can.”
He smiled.
“I’ll hold your airplane for you.”
He smiled again. We were in. I asked the photographer if we could redo Jory’s pictures.
Yes, this was more like it. He wasn’t bringing his A game, but for now I’ll happily take his B/C game.
He wouldn’t let the seven statue go in some shots. Okay, now the group pictures could be retaken. As TTT were taking the shots, there was this nagging in the back of my head. What was I forgetting? What was I missing?
They finished photo session part deux and as I was looking at the pics, I realized what I had forgotten. The two shots. Jory and Rowan. Jory and Layla. I looked over my son who was flying his plane around and his sisters who were playing with his space shuttle. Jory had taken one for the team today, so I would take one too. This year there would only be individual birthday pictures and the group pictures. I chose the photos I thought were best, then I realized I had forgotten to get a picture of the girls together. Got it.
It was hard picking out pictures while reminding people not to get their clothes dirty and to stay still. Though in keeping with my being wise with money, I ordered less photos than usual. I just sent out their Christmas picture less than four months ago. They hadn’t changed that much since then. Pictures ordered and we were out the door.
As is our tradition, I quickly got them home and stripped them. Then I left to go get dinner. TTT wanted to use their McD’s gift cards. I love kids who can pay for their own meals. After all I went through I deserved my own meal, El Pollo Loco it was for me. And since I was feeling generous, I sensed my mother wasn’t really feeling El Pollo Loco. I asked her what she wanted and she said, Popeye’s. So another stop it was. Then I was back home, we ate, sat and relaxed, then it was time for bed. What a very long afternoon.
Pinky and the Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
“Brain, what are do you want to do tonight?”
“The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!”
“Jory, what are we going to do tonight?” Rowan and Baby ask.
“What we do every day. Try to drive, Mommy, mad.”
“The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!”
“Jory, what are we going to do tonight?” Rowan and Baby ask.
“What we do every day. Try to drive, Mommy, mad.”
The plot to drive me mad
“Layla, what is that on your chin?” I heard my mom ask Layla.
The baby gave some sort of reply I couldn’t hear.
“Is that food?” I heard my mom ask.
Unintelligable answer given by the baby. I decided to let it go.
Some time later, it was time for bed and I see the red mark on Layla’s chin. What in the world?
“Baby, what happened to your chin?”
“’Member I told you I fell off the sofa and hurt myself,” she answered.
Are you kidding me!?! “No, I don’t remember you telling me this. When did this happen?” Crap, why am I asking this? She seemingly only knows one day of the week.
“On Saturday.”
And yep, that’s the day she knows.
“Were you jumping on the sofa?” Why do I bother asking questions I know the answer to?
Her head lowered and she mumbled an answer.
I lifted her chin, looking at the red mark, and then I moved my gaze to her eyes. “This is why Mommy tells you not to jump on the sofa, okay?”
“’Kay.”
Great, our yearly picture taking day is coming in a week and now she has this red scratch on her chin. Is she trying to ruin my picture or just drive me batty?
The baby gave some sort of reply I couldn’t hear.
“Is that food?” I heard my mom ask.
Unintelligable answer given by the baby. I decided to let it go.
Some time later, it was time for bed and I see the red mark on Layla’s chin. What in the world?
“Baby, what happened to your chin?”
“’Member I told you I fell off the sofa and hurt myself,” she answered.
Are you kidding me!?! “No, I don’t remember you telling me this. When did this happen?” Crap, why am I asking this? She seemingly only knows one day of the week.
“On Saturday.”
And yep, that’s the day she knows.
“Were you jumping on the sofa?” Why do I bother asking questions I know the answer to?
Her head lowered and she mumbled an answer.
I lifted her chin, looking at the red mark, and then I moved my gaze to her eyes. “This is why Mommy tells you not to jump on the sofa, okay?”
“’Kay.”
Great, our yearly picture taking day is coming in a week and now she has this red scratch on her chin. Is she trying to ruin my picture or just drive me batty?
Brushing teeth
“Mommy, Rowan is just sitting here sucking her thumb and twirling her hair.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Mommy, Rowan’s not brushing.”
“I am brushing, Baby!” Rowan answers indiginantly.
I have tried so many different things to get her to brush her teeth. We’ve made up songs, told her she had to get all the little food monsters in her teeth. You kill them with good brushing. She’s gotten in trouble. She’s been put on the timer to brush quickly. She’s been in races with her siblings to see who can brush the fastest and the best. We’ve talked about the reasons why we need to brush. I’ve explained how if she doesn’t brush she’ll be toothless. But none of it seems to work. I’m out of ideas. It drives me absolutely batty.
Then when she finally finishes brushing, there is so much toothpaste left on her toothbrush, it’s like she’s afraid to ruin the toothbrush by brushing her teeth with it.
She’s such a pretty girl inside and out, so why doesn’t she want teeth when she’s 20?
“No, I’m not.”
“Mommy, Rowan’s not brushing.”
“I am brushing, Baby!” Rowan answers indiginantly.
I have tried so many different things to get her to brush her teeth. We’ve made up songs, told her she had to get all the little food monsters in her teeth. You kill them with good brushing. She’s gotten in trouble. She’s been put on the timer to brush quickly. She’s been in races with her siblings to see who can brush the fastest and the best. We’ve talked about the reasons why we need to brush. I’ve explained how if she doesn’t brush she’ll be toothless. But none of it seems to work. I’m out of ideas. It drives me absolutely batty.
Then when she finally finishes brushing, there is so much toothpaste left on her toothbrush, it’s like she’s afraid to ruin the toothbrush by brushing her teeth with it.
She’s such a pretty girl inside and out, so why doesn’t she want teeth when she’s 20?
Layla's Birthday
I had such plans for Layla’s birthday. We were going to go out to eat as a family. She and I were going to go to the movie. We were going to spend the day together. The best made plans…
I asked Baby what she wanted for breakfast. I was expecting her to say pancakes, then we’d all pack up and go to IHOP. Instead she said, “Cheerios.” I thought about throwing out the word “pancakes” so she’d know that was a breakfast possibility, but then I looked at the time and decided not to. We’d slept in and if we got dressed, went out to breakfast, it might be a tight fit for seeing our movie. And really, what’s better than a baby who knows what she wants and likes. She loves Cheerios and who was I to deny the birthday girl from having her birthday desired breakfast.
As it always seems on weekends or days off time flew by quickly. When I got out the shower, I knew I had to quickly bathe the baby so we could make it to the movie on time. And thanks to JCP not having any birthday gear in their store, there was no way for Layla to announce her birthday to the world, so I had to find something else for her to wear. I finally found a new shirt she hadn’t worn, a pair of jeans, and the new sparkly blue tennis shoes Auntie Mona bought her for Christmas. I sported my new jogging suit, I bought myself on Black Friday and we were good to go. Jory and Rowan wanted to go, but I explained to them that it was Layla’s birthday and we were going to the movies just the two of us. Plus they weren’t dressed and we were running late as it was.
Rowan soon got distracted by the movie she put in, but Jory looked at us sadly. He really wanted to go. He didn’t get to go to the movies for his birthday. Seriously dude?! Seriously?! Taking you to the movies would be cheaper for mommy than taking you and your siblings to Chuck E. Cheese on Christmas Eve. Don’t even get me started, little boy. I reminded him that he got to go to Chuck E. Cheese for his birthday, but Layla wasn’t doing anything like that. He didn’t like that answer, but what were we going to do.
We were late to the theater and there were tons of people in line. Where did they all come from? Why are they all in line at 12:35PM on a Saturday? They didn’t have children with them. Don’t adults go to the movie in the evenings on the weekend? With Layla lying her head on my shoulder with a blanket wrapped around her, I purchased our tickets. Then we headed to the counter and ordered popcorn, hot dog, and soda. Why in God’s green earth wouldn’t they have a hot dog, popcorn, soda combo? Is that combination unheard of at this movie theater? Whatever, bygones. My hands were too full, so Layla had to walk. I got condiments, then wondered do I need to add popcorn butter. It’s been so long since I was at a theater. So long since I bought popcorn at the theater. Didn’t’ they already add the buttery goodness? I looked at our popcorn and didn’t seem like it. I added a little just in case.
Not only had the previews ended, but the movie had started when we got into the theater. UGH! What did they show like two movie previews? I’m thinking I’m not digging this theater. They are not making a good first impression. We found seats and the baby sat next to me. I put the blanket across her. I didn’t want to hear any complaining about her being cold.
For a while she sat there quietly, then she tapped me and pointed to the hot dog I was eating. She got a bite and amazed me by not eating the whole thing. Then it was time for the popcorn. At some point, I was giving her enough or giving it to her fast enough, so she asked to hold the bag herself. She was the birthday girl, why not. Why not indeed? At some point, she started doling out the popcorn, practically kernels at a time. Counting how many she would give me. Then she wanted sips of my drink. The ultimate quandary. This baby has the bladder of a ganat (yes, that’s gnat with an extra “a”). Do I give her something to drink then risk her having to go and we miss the movie? You only turn four once, so I agreed, but I stopped at letting her hold the drink. I knew that would be a disaster waiting to happen.
Then it happened.
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.” Her voice sounded loud in the quiet theater.
Of course you do. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Crap! I moved our stuff aside, picked her up, then moved down the aisle to the stairs. Nope, this was the scene people had talked about. She was going to have to wait. And she did, the scene finished, I wasn’t that blown away, and then she started moving. It was time to take her. We walked out of the theater and directly in front of us was a family bathroom. SCORE! No score, the door was locked. Crap! So we quickly ran and went to the other bathroom. She went quickly and we ran back. Based on reactions, we didn’t miss much.
I reached over to get more popcorn and it was gone. The little “I’m not hungry cause I just ate Cheerios at home” baby ate all my popcorn and had a bite of hot dog. If I didn’t move my soda that would be gone. Greedy child.
Layla turned to me and said, “I’m ready to go.”
She was right as were some of the reviews I read, MI: 4 was a bit long. It could have ended a little earlier. “Layla, you have to whisper,” I whispered back to her. “And the movie is almost over.“
“Okay,” she said, back in her normal voice.
I decided not to correct her and let it go. She’d understand one day. Fifteen minutes later, the movie was finished and we were out the door.
It was nice having one on one time with my baby. We drove home just in time to chill out for a second before we had to hit the door to go to support group. Jory was unhappy we were leaving again. He didn’t understand why the baby got to be alone with me. Hello kettle, you’re black. The boy who is alone with me for what an hour each day is complaining about the baby getting alone time, whatever. I did remind him how we have alone time and do things without the girls and now it was the baby’s turn, but he wasn’t hearing it. So when we left for support group he was in tears.
At support group, everyone wished Layla, a happy birthday. And she delighted in all the attention. And the 3-year-old Sunday School group she goes to had saved her Christmas present, so score she gets a birthday present in the form of- - take a wild guess- - yes, a pillow pet. Really I could have saved my money on Black Friday and not bought any of them one since they all got one over the holidays and after from some place else.
So since plans for a meal out with the family never came to past, I figured the least I could do was take dinner home and we could eat together. I called Oma on the way home to see what she wanted to eat, since the baby didn’t care. Oma had no opinions either, but after passing the third El Pollo Loco, I felt that was God’s sign that that’s what we should have for dinner. We picked up our Chicken Tostada Salads and kept on trucking while listening to four great 80s love songs on the KOST. Songs I could sing to the birthday girl.
We stopped at Baskin-Robbins so Layla could get her free ice cream scope. I held her up so she could see all the different flavors. She chose the bubble gum flavor. I asked her what kind of cake did she want for her birthday. She said she didn’t want any cake. She wanted to put her candles in a donut. Score, we had donuts at home. This kid was saving me money on her birthday. I love this kid.
I unloaded the car and put dinner on the table, only to discover Jory and Rowan weren’t hungry. Awesome. The baby, Oma, and I ate, then it was time for candle time. I got out the box of donuts. I took out the candles.
“No, Mommy. I don’t want the candles in my donut,” the baby declared.
“Where do you want your candles?” I asked.
“In my ice cream,” she answered.
Hey, it’s her birthday, that sounds great to me. Thank goodness I asked for a cup instead of a cone. I slapped the four candles in her ice cream and lit them. We all stood around her and started singing “Happy Birthday.” I took pictures, then Layla blew out the candles. Since there wasn’t any more ice cream in the house, I gave Jory and Rowan donuts to celebrate their sister’s birthday.
“Okay, so where’s the cake?” Oma asked.
“Layla didn’t want one,” I responded.
“So you didn’t buy one?” she questioned.
“Nope, she wanted candles in her ice cream so that’s what I did.”
It does suck when you’re all geared up for something in your mind, then you don’t get it. Oh well, Rowan’s birthday is in a few weeks so we might have cake then.
During her break from her ice cream which she shared with her siblings, I put the birthday gifts in front of her. I was short on birthday wrapping paper so I had to put it all together.
Ooh, look at that. Layla got Barbie skates, that I’m sure she’ll never use like her siblings never did, but at least this way when they are ready to skate everyone has a pair. Yippee! Oh look, the latest Veggie Tales movie. And finally, it’s Perry the Platypus from Phineas and Ferb. I could tell by the look on the baby’s face I had scored with these gifts. OH wait, that was in my imagination. She seemingly could have cared less after all the wrapping paper was torn off. But her sister was excited by the new movie and the Barbie on the skates, and her brother thought her getting Perry was pretty cool, so I scored with those two.
Since you only turn four once, I decided to let the girls stay up let. Rowan convinced the baby it would be fun to watch her new movie. Leave convincing someone to watch a movie to Rowan. So I put the dvd in my computer and let them watch, as I cleaned up the kitchen and then tried to watch it with them. And by watch it with them, I mean having my pjs on, getting under the covers, adjusting my pillow, laying my head on it closing my eyes, then pulling the covers over my head. So really, I was listening to it with them. I woke up for the last ten minutes or so, and they were totally engrossed and enjoyed the movie. And thus ended the birthday of Miss Layla and the beginning of her life as a twin.
I asked Baby what she wanted for breakfast. I was expecting her to say pancakes, then we’d all pack up and go to IHOP. Instead she said, “Cheerios.” I thought about throwing out the word “pancakes” so she’d know that was a breakfast possibility, but then I looked at the time and decided not to. We’d slept in and if we got dressed, went out to breakfast, it might be a tight fit for seeing our movie. And really, what’s better than a baby who knows what she wants and likes. She loves Cheerios and who was I to deny the birthday girl from having her birthday desired breakfast.
As it always seems on weekends or days off time flew by quickly. When I got out the shower, I knew I had to quickly bathe the baby so we could make it to the movie on time. And thanks to JCP not having any birthday gear in their store, there was no way for Layla to announce her birthday to the world, so I had to find something else for her to wear. I finally found a new shirt she hadn’t worn, a pair of jeans, and the new sparkly blue tennis shoes Auntie Mona bought her for Christmas. I sported my new jogging suit, I bought myself on Black Friday and we were good to go. Jory and Rowan wanted to go, but I explained to them that it was Layla’s birthday and we were going to the movies just the two of us. Plus they weren’t dressed and we were running late as it was.
Rowan soon got distracted by the movie she put in, but Jory looked at us sadly. He really wanted to go. He didn’t get to go to the movies for his birthday. Seriously dude?! Seriously?! Taking you to the movies would be cheaper for mommy than taking you and your siblings to Chuck E. Cheese on Christmas Eve. Don’t even get me started, little boy. I reminded him that he got to go to Chuck E. Cheese for his birthday, but Layla wasn’t doing anything like that. He didn’t like that answer, but what were we going to do.
We were late to the theater and there were tons of people in line. Where did they all come from? Why are they all in line at 12:35PM on a Saturday? They didn’t have children with them. Don’t adults go to the movie in the evenings on the weekend? With Layla lying her head on my shoulder with a blanket wrapped around her, I purchased our tickets. Then we headed to the counter and ordered popcorn, hot dog, and soda. Why in God’s green earth wouldn’t they have a hot dog, popcorn, soda combo? Is that combination unheard of at this movie theater? Whatever, bygones. My hands were too full, so Layla had to walk. I got condiments, then wondered do I need to add popcorn butter. It’s been so long since I was at a theater. So long since I bought popcorn at the theater. Didn’t’ they already add the buttery goodness? I looked at our popcorn and didn’t seem like it. I added a little just in case.
Not only had the previews ended, but the movie had started when we got into the theater. UGH! What did they show like two movie previews? I’m thinking I’m not digging this theater. They are not making a good first impression. We found seats and the baby sat next to me. I put the blanket across her. I didn’t want to hear any complaining about her being cold.
For a while she sat there quietly, then she tapped me and pointed to the hot dog I was eating. She got a bite and amazed me by not eating the whole thing. Then it was time for the popcorn. At some point, I was giving her enough or giving it to her fast enough, so she asked to hold the bag herself. She was the birthday girl, why not. Why not indeed? At some point, she started doling out the popcorn, practically kernels at a time. Counting how many she would give me. Then she wanted sips of my drink. The ultimate quandary. This baby has the bladder of a ganat (yes, that’s gnat with an extra “a”). Do I give her something to drink then risk her having to go and we miss the movie? You only turn four once, so I agreed, but I stopped at letting her hold the drink. I knew that would be a disaster waiting to happen.
Then it happened.
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom.” Her voice sounded loud in the quiet theater.
Of course you do. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Crap! I moved our stuff aside, picked her up, then moved down the aisle to the stairs. Nope, this was the scene people had talked about. She was going to have to wait. And she did, the scene finished, I wasn’t that blown away, and then she started moving. It was time to take her. We walked out of the theater and directly in front of us was a family bathroom. SCORE! No score, the door was locked. Crap! So we quickly ran and went to the other bathroom. She went quickly and we ran back. Based on reactions, we didn’t miss much.
I reached over to get more popcorn and it was gone. The little “I’m not hungry cause I just ate Cheerios at home” baby ate all my popcorn and had a bite of hot dog. If I didn’t move my soda that would be gone. Greedy child.
Layla turned to me and said, “I’m ready to go.”
She was right as were some of the reviews I read, MI: 4 was a bit long. It could have ended a little earlier. “Layla, you have to whisper,” I whispered back to her. “And the movie is almost over.“
“Okay,” she said, back in her normal voice.
I decided not to correct her and let it go. She’d understand one day. Fifteen minutes later, the movie was finished and we were out the door.
It was nice having one on one time with my baby. We drove home just in time to chill out for a second before we had to hit the door to go to support group. Jory was unhappy we were leaving again. He didn’t understand why the baby got to be alone with me. Hello kettle, you’re black. The boy who is alone with me for what an hour each day is complaining about the baby getting alone time, whatever. I did remind him how we have alone time and do things without the girls and now it was the baby’s turn, but he wasn’t hearing it. So when we left for support group he was in tears.
At support group, everyone wished Layla, a happy birthday. And she delighted in all the attention. And the 3-year-old Sunday School group she goes to had saved her Christmas present, so score she gets a birthday present in the form of- - take a wild guess- - yes, a pillow pet. Really I could have saved my money on Black Friday and not bought any of them one since they all got one over the holidays and after from some place else.
So since plans for a meal out with the family never came to past, I figured the least I could do was take dinner home and we could eat together. I called Oma on the way home to see what she wanted to eat, since the baby didn’t care. Oma had no opinions either, but after passing the third El Pollo Loco, I felt that was God’s sign that that’s what we should have for dinner. We picked up our Chicken Tostada Salads and kept on trucking while listening to four great 80s love songs on the KOST. Songs I could sing to the birthday girl.
We stopped at Baskin-Robbins so Layla could get her free ice cream scope. I held her up so she could see all the different flavors. She chose the bubble gum flavor. I asked her what kind of cake did she want for her birthday. She said she didn’t want any cake. She wanted to put her candles in a donut. Score, we had donuts at home. This kid was saving me money on her birthday. I love this kid.
I unloaded the car and put dinner on the table, only to discover Jory and Rowan weren’t hungry. Awesome. The baby, Oma, and I ate, then it was time for candle time. I got out the box of donuts. I took out the candles.
“No, Mommy. I don’t want the candles in my donut,” the baby declared.
“Where do you want your candles?” I asked.
“In my ice cream,” she answered.
Hey, it’s her birthday, that sounds great to me. Thank goodness I asked for a cup instead of a cone. I slapped the four candles in her ice cream and lit them. We all stood around her and started singing “Happy Birthday.” I took pictures, then Layla blew out the candles. Since there wasn’t any more ice cream in the house, I gave Jory and Rowan donuts to celebrate their sister’s birthday.
“Okay, so where’s the cake?” Oma asked.
“Layla didn’t want one,” I responded.
“So you didn’t buy one?” she questioned.
“Nope, she wanted candles in her ice cream so that’s what I did.”
It does suck when you’re all geared up for something in your mind, then you don’t get it. Oh well, Rowan’s birthday is in a few weeks so we might have cake then.
During her break from her ice cream which she shared with her siblings, I put the birthday gifts in front of her. I was short on birthday wrapping paper so I had to put it all together.
Ooh, look at that. Layla got Barbie skates, that I’m sure she’ll never use like her siblings never did, but at least this way when they are ready to skate everyone has a pair. Yippee! Oh look, the latest Veggie Tales movie. And finally, it’s Perry the Platypus from Phineas and Ferb. I could tell by the look on the baby’s face I had scored with these gifts. OH wait, that was in my imagination. She seemingly could have cared less after all the wrapping paper was torn off. But her sister was excited by the new movie and the Barbie on the skates, and her brother thought her getting Perry was pretty cool, so I scored with those two.
Since you only turn four once, I decided to let the girls stay up let. Rowan convinced the baby it would be fun to watch her new movie. Leave convincing someone to watch a movie to Rowan. So I put the dvd in my computer and let them watch, as I cleaned up the kitchen and then tried to watch it with them. And by watch it with them, I mean having my pjs on, getting under the covers, adjusting my pillow, laying my head on it closing my eyes, then pulling the covers over my head. So really, I was listening to it with them. I woke up for the last ten minutes or so, and they were totally engrossed and enjoyed the movie. And thus ended the birthday of Miss Layla and the beginning of her life as a twin.
Great aunts...
You know what great aunts do. They get a box of candy in the mail, then sell it so their wonderful, handsome, awesome, brilliant eldest nephew can raise money to go to DC with his class.
I’ve never had to sell anything as an adult. It was interesting experience. Thank God for great co-workers who bought candy, or donated it to other, who gave a few extra bucks. I sold candy yesterday to my office, then today I sold to other friends in the building and bam I was finished. God is good.
I can’t believe my Mijo is old enough to go on a school trip. A school trip without his family. He’s never been away on a trip without one of us. Yes at his age 13, I had spent a few nights away from my mom on school trips. But he’s going to be in another part of the country away from his mom and siblings. On the other side of the States from us.
Please remember him in your prayers. That he and his classmates and the chaperones will have a safe trip there and back to Louisiana and while they are in DC. That they will have a good time and learn a little somethin’ somethin’ about our awesome Nation’s capital.
I’ve never had to sell anything as an adult. It was interesting experience. Thank God for great co-workers who bought candy, or donated it to other, who gave a few extra bucks. I sold candy yesterday to my office, then today I sold to other friends in the building and bam I was finished. God is good.
I can’t believe my Mijo is old enough to go on a school trip. A school trip without his family. He’s never been away on a trip without one of us. Yes at his age 13, I had spent a few nights away from my mom on school trips. But he’s going to be in another part of the country away from his mom and siblings. On the other side of the States from us.
Please remember him in your prayers. That he and his classmates and the chaperones will have a safe trip there and back to Louisiana and while they are in DC. That they will have a good time and learn a little somethin’ somethin’ about our awesome Nation’s capital.
Every one of TTT is a police officer
Jory is the hand police.
“Mommy, the baby used the bathroom but her hands aren’t wet,” he informs me.
“Rowan, I didn’t hear the water running,” he probes his sister as she walks out of the bathroom.
“Mommy, did you wash your hands?” he asks.
Yes, he is the hand washing policeman.
“Mommy, the baby used the bathroom but her hands aren’t wet,” he informs me.
“Rowan, I didn’t hear the water running,” he probes his sister as she walks out of the bathroom.
“Mommy, did you wash your hands?” he asks.
Yes, he is the hand washing policeman.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
The plot to drive me mad Part II
“Mommy, I burnt myself,” Jory informed me.
“How did you burn yourself?” I asked concerned.
“On my light, yada, yada.”
Did he just tell me that he burnt himself on his light?! How is that possible? Seriously, how is that possible?! :How did you burn yourself on your light?”
“I leaned up against it, yada yada.”
Why in the world would you lean against a hot desk lamp?! “Why would lean against it? Isn’t it hot?”
“Yes, but I was trying to get my pencil.”
“And the only way to get your pencil was to lean close enough against the lamp to burn yourself?”
He lowered his head.
I was officially done with this conversation. “Get your wash cloth and let’s put it on your face.”
Easter pictures are in three days and now he’s going to have a mark and so willt he baby.
“How did you burn yourself?” I asked concerned.
“On my light, yada, yada.”
Did he just tell me that he burnt himself on his light?! How is that possible? Seriously, how is that possible?! :How did you burn yourself on your light?”
“I leaned up against it, yada yada.”
Why in the world would you lean against a hot desk lamp?! “Why would lean against it? Isn’t it hot?”
“Yes, but I was trying to get my pencil.”
“And the only way to get your pencil was to lean close enough against the lamp to burn yourself?”
He lowered his head.
I was officially done with this conversation. “Get your wash cloth and let’s put it on your face.”
Easter pictures are in three days and now he’s going to have a mark and so willt he baby.
I have so
neglected this blog. The start of this year has just gone crazy and the first four months is almost gone. How did that happen?
So let's start again for this year and see what happens. I don't know if I'll update every day or try to every day like I did last year, but you never know.
So let's start again for this year and see what happens. I don't know if I'll update every day or try to every day like I did last year, but you never know.
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