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.