Destructive Babies

For some reason that I can’t get to the bottom of Layla being destructive.  Crayons – the paper gets ripped off on them and they are broken in half.  Though I wonder about the broken in half comes from her gripping them too tightly.  She tore up the box to the VHS tape that was sitting on the table.  She’s ripped pages of out books.  Deodorants meet a painful death.

Anything that she gets her little hands on is up for grabs.  Does she need to keep her hands busy?  Is that why she’s being destructive?  Or is she tearing up things just because she can?  Maybe we simply need to work more on the keeping your hands to yourself thing.

Bad dreams

“Mommy, I had a bad dream,” Jory said, as he crawled into bed with me.

“I’m sorry.  What was your dream about?” I asked.

“You, Daddy, and I were on a ship.  Then we got into an elevator and it got stuck.  Daddy and I got out, then we went to play,” he said.

Interesting.  He rarely ever mentions dads.  “Anything else happened?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?” I questioned, he never says he doesn’t want to tell me something.

He shook his head.

“You know you can tell me anything, anytime, right?”

He nodded his head.

“Did something happen to me in your dream?”

He nodded again.

“It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“You went away,” he said softly.

I kicked the bucket.  That sucks.  “Oh okay.  But you don’t have to be scared.  You don’t have to be scared about your dream or about telling me things.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

Then my baby snuggled down next to his mommy and went back to sleep.

I think I'm touched

“Mommy, I want to die,” the baby says to me as we driving down the street.

“Why?”

“Because I want to meet your daddy and he’s in heaven,” she answers.

Uh, how sweet?  Maybe.  I think.  “Uh, baby, if you accept Jesus into your heart and follow Him, when He calls you home you can meet my dad.  Okay?”

“’Kay.”

I am morbidly touched.

Gone baby gone

Mort pulled away from our house taking my baby with him.  Jory was going to his first sleepover with Uncle Mort.  My baby is getting bigger, leaving to go off and be with the boys.

Sleeping alone and sleeping together

My mom was sick and she sleeps in the room with the girls, so when she went to rest a while I didn’t let the girls go into their room and disturb her so instead they slept with me.

It’s amazing how quickly you get used to sleeping by yourself.

Well Jory then became jealous that the girls got to sleep with me, but he couldn’t.  Seriously?  I explained to him why the girls were in the room with me.  This seemed to appease him, until 

Rowan and the baby started teasing him.  Which is how this weak, sleep mom ended up with three bodies littering my floor in their sleeping bags.

The spin on this is at least they weren’t all in the bed with me.  Yeah me!

Not what I intended

Twelve years later, Jory finally got his Bruder truck that I got him as a celebration for us finishing his first year of school.  I told him what the truck was for.

“I’ll get a present when I finish second grade and third grade and fourth grade and fifth grade…” he said excitedly.

Oh wow, is that how he took it?  Yeah, no more presents for finishing a school year.  I don’t want him thinking every year you get a present cause you finish a grade.  I never thought about it him looking at it that way.