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.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
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.
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