are great because just as you wake up they say, if you get up now you can make a quick trip to Home Depot before you drop the kids off at school and go to work. Quick and Home Depot can those three words go in the same sentence? Aren't they an oxymoron? I thought it was a poor idea, particularly when she said she would dress the kids for school. It can take Oma up to an hour per child to dress them. But I thought it would be easier to go along with her plan than argue.
I did luck out at Home Depot and found an employee who was willing to walk me down every aisle of the store until we found what I was looking for. Along that walk, my money fell out of my pocket, unbeknownst to me. Forty-five minutes later, I returned home moneyless but with the needed item only to discover Jory is only half-dressed and Rowan is watching TV. Okay, Oma definitely is taking them to school. I drop of my Home Depot purchase and run out the door so I can make it to work on time.
Nine hours later, I rush out the door to take the kids to the first AWANA of the year. I call the house to see if they are at home or at Aunt Linda's. The phone is busy so I know they are at home. I drive swiftly yet safely home only to see my son walking around with pjs on and Rowan playing on the bed with the baby.
They didn't go to school? They didn't go to school. I didn't even bother to ask why because I knew the answer. She didn't feel like driving them the 8 blocks down and 2 blocks over to take them. Plus I'm sure it was cold outside and the baby does have a cough and a runny nose.
"Why didn't you call and tell me to get them dress?"
"I've been calling for the last hour. The phone is off the hook."
"Oh, it is? I was on the phone earlier."
"It's probably been off the hook since then."
"Is that why nobody called?"
I look down to see the phone off the hook underneath the sofa she's sitting on. I guess we'll go to AWANA next week.
When does she go back to work again? The idea of retirement truly frightens me.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
My clothes are cold
are you serious?!?! Are you serious, little boy? Did you just say to me "My clothes are cold."? What am I suppose to iron them moments before you put them on so they can be warm for you? Are we in some alternate reality where I have tons of free time and I'm your maid? You iron a few times in the morning and it goes straight to their heads.
And how is it that one can cry for like twenty straight minutes? I try not to cry because crying gives me a headache. Is it a gift that children have to do it for so long? And have you noticed when a six-year-old and two-year-old are both sitting on your lap crying, it's like a crying symphony. I wonder if I recorded it, put it on youtube and got tons of hits, if someone would push through auto tunes and turn it into a song. Then I could get enough money to completely remodel the whole house and have enough to add a pool.
And although your three-year-old has been wearing blue pants with either a blue or white top four days a week since September, she can't pick out her clothes from her Irish twin's, who wears whatever theme her mommy has going on that week. Are you serious?!
"Rowan, what color pants do you wear to school?"
"Grey."
"Grey?"
Picking up on the look on my face, she hesitated. "Blue."
"That's right. Blue. Do you have blue pants in your hand?"
"No."
"So should you put those back and find your blue pair?" You know the only blue pair of pants by you. By your foot to be more specific.
"Yes. Oh look, Mommy, here they are."
"Good, putt them on." UGH!!!! God is using them to grow me, to teach me, and the reward will be when my Jorge comes along and Jack, Jude, Tatum come, they are all going to be my morning babies to offset the non-morning set I'm dealing with now.
And how is it that one can cry for like twenty straight minutes? I try not to cry because crying gives me a headache. Is it a gift that children have to do it for so long? And have you noticed when a six-year-old and two-year-old are both sitting on your lap crying, it's like a crying symphony. I wonder if I recorded it, put it on youtube and got tons of hits, if someone would push through auto tunes and turn it into a song. Then I could get enough money to completely remodel the whole house and have enough to add a pool.
And although your three-year-old has been wearing blue pants with either a blue or white top four days a week since September, she can't pick out her clothes from her Irish twin's, who wears whatever theme her mommy has going on that week. Are you serious?!
"Rowan, what color pants do you wear to school?"
"Grey."
"Grey?"
Picking up on the look on my face, she hesitated. "Blue."
"That's right. Blue. Do you have blue pants in your hand?"
"No."
"So should you put those back and find your blue pair?" You know the only blue pair of pants by you. By your foot to be more specific.
"Yes. Oh look, Mommy, here they are."
"Good, putt them on." UGH!!!! God is using them to grow me, to teach me, and the reward will be when my Jorge comes along and Jack, Jude, Tatum come, they are all going to be my morning babies to offset the non-morning set I'm dealing with now.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Dear Lord,
Please rescue me from crying, whining, taking an hour to get dress six-year-olds, who snuck out of bed and played until 2AM and now don't want to get dress because they didn't want to get out of bed. Thank you, Lord, for the invention of bathrooms where crying people can go so I don't have to hear the endless crying which prevents six-year-olds from putting on their tennis shoes.
"Mommy, I don't wanna take a shower," the baby says.
"Why not?" I respond.
"I die."
What?! What is this little girl talking about? Did she just use the word "die"? "You're going to die?"
"Yes," she says and nods.
"How?"
"I bump my head," she continues, raising her hand to the back of her head.
"You bumped your head?"
She nods.
"Where?"
"In the shower."
"When?"
"Last time."
"Last time you took a shower, you bumped your head and died?"
She nods.
I wonder what TLC or Discovery Health show she and Oma watched where they learned about falling in the showers. Gotta love that granddaughter and grandmother time together. The things your two-year-old learns.
"Mommy, I don't wanna take a shower," the baby says.
"Why not?" I respond.
"I die."
What?! What is this little girl talking about? Did she just use the word "die"? "You're going to die?"
"Yes," she says and nods.
"How?"
"I bump my head," she continues, raising her hand to the back of her head.
"You bumped your head?"
She nods.
"Where?"
"In the shower."
"When?"
"Last time."
"Last time you took a shower, you bumped your head and died?"
She nods.
I wonder what TLC or Discovery Health show she and Oma watched where they learned about falling in the showers. Gotta love that granddaughter and grandmother time together. The things your two-year-old learns.
Six-year-olds
are amazing little creatures who can wake you up when you feel someone in the room with you and you open your eyes to find one along with their three-year-old sister playing with the flashlight and their newly opened Fisher-Price camera, which you immediately confiscate as you're chastising them.
Why do they try to corrupt the one good sleeper you have? The one who when the world inside your head is about to explode, you can send to bed and know they will actually go to sleep while you deal with Nick and Knack.
My morning person self and his night owl self are clashing heads big time. It's time to put the smackdown, but how do you make someone who can lay in bed for hours and not go to sleep go to bed at bedtime?
Maybe I'll have to use Ro's soothing bath technique. Or maybe he needs to run around the block a few times before bathtime to get some of the energy out.
It would be perfect if we could have swimming lessons every night, then I could give him his pjs and he could shower, put them on, and fall asleep on the car ride home. Oh that would be perfect! Dear God, I'm not saying I need a rich husband but could we get enough money to put a pool in. Some nightly laps and presto the problem would be solved.
Why do they try to corrupt the one good sleeper you have? The one who when the world inside your head is about to explode, you can send to bed and know they will actually go to sleep while you deal with Nick and Knack.
My morning person self and his night owl self are clashing heads big time. It's time to put the smackdown, but how do you make someone who can lay in bed for hours and not go to sleep go to bed at bedtime?
Maybe I'll have to use Ro's soothing bath technique. Or maybe he needs to run around the block a few times before bathtime to get some of the energy out.
It would be perfect if we could have swimming lessons every night, then I could give him his pjs and he could shower, put them on, and fall asleep on the car ride home. Oh that would be perfect! Dear God, I'm not saying I need a rich husband but could we get enough money to put a pool in. Some nightly laps and presto the problem would be solved.
Who you gonna call?
We need to call the Ghostbusters. There's a ghost in Oma's room. According to Scooby Doo and I believe Scooby and the gang, ghosts aren't real. They are just selfish people who dress up as ghosts and monsters in order to feed their greed. But with that said, sometimes when the baby goes into Oma's room she comes out with these maroonish colored markings under and above her lips. The markings smell a lot like lipstick.
Now some of you might be skeptical about the ghost, but the ghost is real.
"Layla, did you go into Oma's drawer and put on her lipstick?"
"No," the baby said sincerely.
"You weren't playing in Oma's lipstick?"
"No," she reitterated while shaking her head.
See, there you have it. There's a ghost in Oma's room attacking my poor, little innocent baby.
If there's something strange
in your neighborhood
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
If there's something weird
and it don't look good
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
When it comes through your door
Unless you just want some more
I think you better call
GHOSTBUSTERS
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
I think you better call
GHOSTBUSTERS
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
Now some of you might be skeptical about the ghost, but the ghost is real.
"Layla, did you go into Oma's drawer and put on her lipstick?"
"No," the baby said sincerely.
"You weren't playing in Oma's lipstick?"
"No," she reitterated while shaking her head.
See, there you have it. There's a ghost in Oma's room attacking my poor, little innocent baby.
If there's something strange
in your neighborhood
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
If there's something weird
and it don't look good
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
When it comes through your door
Unless you just want some more
I think you better call
GHOSTBUSTERS
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
I think you better call
GHOSTBUSTERS
Who ya gonna call?
GHOSTBUSTERS
Missing You
After church and in the pouring rain, I had to make a stop at Home Depot. Unlike what their commercials portray not every employee is knowledgeable, but this unknowledgeable one sent me to one that was. And as I waited for my required item, my jam came on. First, there was Let's Chill by Guy, followed by I'll Be Your Baby, Tonight.
I was singing along, moving slightly as I waited. I so wanted to scroll down my phone book and hit the phone button that would allow me to talk to my friend since the age of ten, when she somehow had her first day of school coincide with the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Grace. I wanted to call her and tell her what was playing. Laugh and take a trip down memory lane, but I couldn't.
After endless years of friendship, we are currently on hiatus. Over the years as TTT have taken over, we didn't get together as much or talk as much. At some point, the girl whom I spent every birthday with, visited every day after I got out of summer school, who had lunch with me every week at my new job, became the person I saw once or twice a year. But she was always there for those "Can you believe this just happened" calls, even if we hadn't really talked in months.
On hiatus means no talking or I'm sure I could email her but I wouldn't get a response back. It means second guessing if I should send her a Christmas card or an update on TTT. Most days, it's okay. God had slowly weaned us off of each other, but it's songs in Home Depot or incidents like the one I'm about to describe which make me wish we our new season of life together would start up.
One summer afternoon as I was driving home from work, a car tried to pull up next to me. I assumed the car wanted to make a right hand turn. The street was small, but I tried to be accommodating and moved over so the car could turn. As the light turned green, I noticed the car didn't turn, which I thought was odd but I kept driving. Some blocks later, I looked in my rear view mirror and I saw the same car was behind me and my panic alarm was about to be pushed. Was this car following me? I sped quickly across one intersection only to observe the car do the exact same thing. All of my 48 Hour Mystery, Dateline knowledge started jumping into the foreground of my mind.
I remembered the woman who pulled her hair out by the root and a ring she never pulled off her finger and buried them in between the car seats so someone could know she was there. I was ready to do that and dial 9-1-1. I started driving through stop signs and looking to make the next left turn so I could be on a major street. I was close to home, but there was no way I was leading a killer there. As I signaled to turn left, the car pulled up next to me.
"What does a guy have to do to get your attention?" the twenty-something-year-old asked me.
Uh, not stalk me? I shrugged my shoulders. Cause really what was I going to say to the guy who had me playing my episode of ID's Disappeared in my head.
"Can I get your number?" he continued.
"No, but thank you for asking," I answered politely. Plus while I'm flattered I'm so hot that you decided to stalk me...how exactly do you know I'm hot when we weren't even driving beside each other?
"Please."
"I can't I'm married," I said, showing him the ring on my left hand.
"We can be friends, then," he continued.
Dude, are you serious? Really?! I say, I'm married and you say, we can be friends? "No, we can't. My husband wouldn't like it."
"All three of us could be friends. We could go out to breakfast."
"I don't think my husband would like that."
The man nodded his head and smiled. "You tell your man, he's got a good one. A good one."
"Thanks," I responded, then let him make a left hand turn first off the side street. I needed to make sure he went on his way before I continued home. He turned and drove in the opposite direction of me. As I left, I thought how sad that 1. he thought following a woman was a great way to get her to talk to him; and 2. he wasn't detoured when I said I was married. I realized obviously the following ploy had worked for him before, I couldn't be the first chick he had tried it on. And that he had talked to other women who had told him they were involved or married, yet had still given him their numbers upon his continued rap. How sad that my slight lie impressed him. How sad he was amazed he had met a woman, who said she had a man, and was faithful to her man and didn't want a "friend."
As soon as he left, I wanted to call Grace and share this tale with her. She would have found it hilarious. I knew no one would get the craziness of the whole situation like she would. Okay, Chi would have, but heavens knows she never answers her phone. Not quite sure why she has one.
God has blessed me with some amazing relationships since our hiatus. Friendships that have encouraged me, strengthened me, changed me. And I am ever so grateful for that, for my growing relationships with two wild and crazy sisters that live on the other side of the moon, but there are those moments when I just miss my Lizabeth, mi Graciela, and wished we weren't on hiatus. Maybe with a change of heart and tons and tons of prayer, our new season will begin.
Since you've been away
I've been down and lonely
Since you've been away
I've been thinking of you
Trying to understand
The reason you left me
What were you going through?
I'm missing you
Tell me why the road turns
Ooh ooh
I'm missing you
Tell me why the road turns
I was singing along, moving slightly as I waited. I so wanted to scroll down my phone book and hit the phone button that would allow me to talk to my friend since the age of ten, when she somehow had her first day of school coincide with the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Grace. I wanted to call her and tell her what was playing. Laugh and take a trip down memory lane, but I couldn't.
After endless years of friendship, we are currently on hiatus. Over the years as TTT have taken over, we didn't get together as much or talk as much. At some point, the girl whom I spent every birthday with, visited every day after I got out of summer school, who had lunch with me every week at my new job, became the person I saw once or twice a year. But she was always there for those "Can you believe this just happened" calls, even if we hadn't really talked in months.
On hiatus means no talking or I'm sure I could email her but I wouldn't get a response back. It means second guessing if I should send her a Christmas card or an update on TTT. Most days, it's okay. God had slowly weaned us off of each other, but it's songs in Home Depot or incidents like the one I'm about to describe which make me wish we our new season of life together would start up.
One summer afternoon as I was driving home from work, a car tried to pull up next to me. I assumed the car wanted to make a right hand turn. The street was small, but I tried to be accommodating and moved over so the car could turn. As the light turned green, I noticed the car didn't turn, which I thought was odd but I kept driving. Some blocks later, I looked in my rear view mirror and I saw the same car was behind me and my panic alarm was about to be pushed. Was this car following me? I sped quickly across one intersection only to observe the car do the exact same thing. All of my 48 Hour Mystery, Dateline knowledge started jumping into the foreground of my mind.
I remembered the woman who pulled her hair out by the root and a ring she never pulled off her finger and buried them in between the car seats so someone could know she was there. I was ready to do that and dial 9-1-1. I started driving through stop signs and looking to make the next left turn so I could be on a major street. I was close to home, but there was no way I was leading a killer there. As I signaled to turn left, the car pulled up next to me.
"What does a guy have to do to get your attention?" the twenty-something-year-old asked me.
Uh, not stalk me? I shrugged my shoulders. Cause really what was I going to say to the guy who had me playing my episode of ID's Disappeared in my head.
"Can I get your number?" he continued.
"No, but thank you for asking," I answered politely. Plus while I'm flattered I'm so hot that you decided to stalk me...how exactly do you know I'm hot when we weren't even driving beside each other?
"Please."
"I can't I'm married," I said, showing him the ring on my left hand.
"We can be friends, then," he continued.
Dude, are you serious? Really?! I say, I'm married and you say, we can be friends? "No, we can't. My husband wouldn't like it."
"All three of us could be friends. We could go out to breakfast."
"I don't think my husband would like that."
The man nodded his head and smiled. "You tell your man, he's got a good one. A good one."
"Thanks," I responded, then let him make a left hand turn first off the side street. I needed to make sure he went on his way before I continued home. He turned and drove in the opposite direction of me. As I left, I thought how sad that 1. he thought following a woman was a great way to get her to talk to him; and 2. he wasn't detoured when I said I was married. I realized obviously the following ploy had worked for him before, I couldn't be the first chick he had tried it on. And that he had talked to other women who had told him they were involved or married, yet had still given him their numbers upon his continued rap. How sad that my slight lie impressed him. How sad he was amazed he had met a woman, who said she had a man, and was faithful to her man and didn't want a "friend."
As soon as he left, I wanted to call Grace and share this tale with her. She would have found it hilarious. I knew no one would get the craziness of the whole situation like she would. Okay, Chi would have, but heavens knows she never answers her phone. Not quite sure why she has one.
God has blessed me with some amazing relationships since our hiatus. Friendships that have encouraged me, strengthened me, changed me. And I am ever so grateful for that, for my growing relationships with two wild and crazy sisters that live on the other side of the moon, but there are those moments when I just miss my Lizabeth, mi Graciela, and wished we weren't on hiatus. Maybe with a change of heart and tons and tons of prayer, our new season will begin.
Since you've been away
I've been down and lonely
Since you've been away
I've been thinking of you
Trying to understand
The reason you left me
What were you going through?
I'm missing you
Tell me why the road turns
Ooh ooh
I'm missing you
Tell me why the road turns
Happy New Year!
"Mommy, I want a fater," Rowan said.
Happy New Year! And thanks a lot Superman with your episodes of showing Kal-El living with Jor-El, his dad, and his mom on Krypton, then Jor-El sending him to earth where he was adopted by Ma and Pa Kent. Thanks for putting ideas in my daughter's head.
"Well, you should pray and ask God to send you a daddy," I responded, cool as a cucumber under pressure.
"Okay. I'm going to ask Jesus for a doggie and a kitty cat- -"
"God says, 'No, to the dog and the cat.'"
"Why?" she asked.
"Because Mommy doesn't like dogs and cats."
"Oh."
I am in awe at times at what TTT knows. It's not like things are secret. They know they don't have a daddy, but to hear them vocalize it is something else. Last year, when we Jory told his AWANA teacher, "We don't have a daddy!" I was shocked. I never thought about what he thought about our family. We just live our every day lives, but while I was living he was storing away info, watching, observing. Ready to answer questions that he thinks are directed to him about his family. It'll be interesting what other new tidbits, they will wow me with this new year.
Happy New Year! And thanks a lot Superman with your episodes of showing Kal-El living with Jor-El, his dad, and his mom on Krypton, then Jor-El sending him to earth where he was adopted by Ma and Pa Kent. Thanks for putting ideas in my daughter's head.
"Well, you should pray and ask God to send you a daddy," I responded, cool as a cucumber under pressure.
"Okay. I'm going to ask Jesus for a doggie and a kitty cat- -"
"God says, 'No, to the dog and the cat.'"
"Why?" she asked.
"Because Mommy doesn't like dogs and cats."
"Oh."
I am in awe at times at what TTT knows. It's not like things are secret. They know they don't have a daddy, but to hear them vocalize it is something else. Last year, when we Jory told his AWANA teacher, "We don't have a daddy!" I was shocked. I never thought about what he thought about our family. We just live our every day lives, but while I was living he was storing away info, watching, observing. Ready to answer questions that he thinks are directed to him about his family. It'll be interesting what other new tidbits, they will wow me with this new year.
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