Our day started bright and early Saturday morning, with three boys bounding out of bed excited about their first ride on the MARTA train. This train ride has been talked about for a while now, but our canceled barber shop plans on Friday made Saturday the train ride day to make up for the disappointment. While the big boys and Daddy had that outing planned, we decided to make up missing our day out to get our ears pierced when Anna came down with the yucky throw-up bug. We took the baby to make the morning easier for Daddy with three preschoolers on a very fast train, and off to the mall we went. After soliciting advice on Facebook over Claire’s vs. Wal-Mart, we decided to head to the mall and take the plunge which we’ve been discussing for at least the past year.
We did not elect to pierce ears when the girls were babies. I have nothing against those that do. My mom waited and let me decide, so I thought I would do the same thing. When I had three girls in three years, I was grateful I didn’t pierce straight out of the delivery room because that was much more than my mind could have managed, on top of the every day necessities. So I let them decide as they grew older, on one condition. They had to consistently manage taking care of brushing their own hair and their own teeth before I would agree. I am supervising care of the ears, but it is their responsibility, not mine. I have a few more kids now than I did then. I’m still not interested in managing something for sheer aesthetic pleasure. They made it to that point, and we began discussing getting the ears pierced. My experience was a bit traumatic, even though my jeweler uncle did it for me. I’m a little like Gillian, pretty sensory sensitive, and all I remember was the screaming! But it is temporary. So we talked our way through it, prayed they would have enough staff to do two at one time, and headed out to the mall.
We get there and there is only one girl available, but she was Ah-mazing! She handled the girls with such gentleness and care that I didn’t even feel the need to warn her about Gillian’s ASD. Anna boldly goes first, yet cries out as the first ear is pierced. The other two immediately say, “Never mind. I don’t want to.” She holds it together for the second one, cries a bit more, and shakes it off. I talk Addison into going through with it, and she squints her eyes and holds in tears to get hers done. Gillian would take a bit more convincing. About 20 minutes walking through the store, assuring her that yes, it hurts, but only for a moment. I even draw a parallel to my having babies. It hurts, but it is totally worth it. She is convinced, and sitting in my lap and squeezing Dora, she gets it done. She cries into the over-sized face of Anna’s Dora doll and endures. She’s my brave girl.
We get home and wait for the boys to return from their adventure, which included the train ride, playing at the playground in Centennial Park and eating at the CNN center. They come together and share stories about their adventures, and we cruise through the rest of the day, getting things done here and there. Adam started to work on putting together some storage benches that my mom found greatly reduced for the girls to use in their “areas”. The space under each of their loft beds is designated as their “area”, and it is allowed to be set up the way they want it to, along with being the only space in the house they get to claim as theirs alone (and even then, we encourage sharing and inviting others in). He started feeling bad (the nausea setting in), so I sent him upstairs to lay down and I finished the benches, all three of them, sitting on the laminate flooring. In the midst of this putting together of the benches, we also took a little walk down the street to a neighbor’s house to let Andrew play with his friend. I wore my flip flops, which probably isn’t great since I am supposed to wear high arch supports in a pair of tennis shoes. I am also at the point in my pregnancy where the pelvis begins softening up in prep for a baby head, shoulders, and all the other stuff to come out. Addison asked me the other day why that was necessary if I was having another c-section, to which I replied, “Wouldn’t it be nice if I could let my pelvis know that it won’t be needed this time.”
So, by day’s end, I was pretty sore, and our house was a MESS. Adam has stepped up to the mom plate this week AND handled all the throw up stuff out of consideration of my olfactory sensitivities in pregnancy. Not much time for regular cleaning. Enforcing chores is hard enough when everyone is well, but when they are staggering illness, it just ain’t happening. So, while the bath called my name and I envisioned happy maids dancing through my house, cleaning it effortlessly regardless of the clutter, I overcame and grabbed a garbage bag, gathering all the food sitting out and putting all the sippy cups in the sink. And that was it.
So I am glad that none of you came over in the night last night. I am glad no one called the city code enforcement officers on me. And I was THRILLED to know that after swapping sleeping off nausea with sitting on the toilet, Adam had no desire to sit, so he opted to stand at the sink and tackle the dishes while we were at church. What an amazing man! Today was a little less exhausting, as we enjoyed another day of beautiful weather, put a coat of paint up in the craft room, cleaned out the “mini” van, and picked up Addison from a birthday party along with some Moe’s for dinner.
And as I close out this post, getting neither the bath nor the maids, I leave you with a few more items for my list of things to be thankful for…
6. acoustic praise music
7. a great Sunday school lesson to go along with a great sermon
8. a wildly talented brother, who happens to play in the praise band at my church
9. a semi-clean van
10. a virus-free start to the week for the first time in three weeks