Pizza Time

There’s an old African Proverb that says “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child.” I’ve always believed it, but never have I been so grateful to have such a village. Me and my husband are surrounded with so many genuine people with such different talents in our circle. Not only do they have talents, but they are willing to share them, not just with us, but with our babies.

We met Lawrence by default about 6 years ago. His wife, Sherri and I became close friends and he in turn joined the family. At first glance, Lawrence doesn’t say too much. He is jolly and pleasant to be around and will give you the shirt off his back if you need it. It doesn’t hurt that the man can also cook. Well, I guess that’s an understatement since that’s how he makes his living. It’s not uncommon for him to come to our home, pull out the pots and pans and whip something up at a family gathering.

So when he offered a few months ago to come have a special pizza making date with Morgan and Garrett they were thrilled. In fact, Morgan refused to let him forget about his commitment and when she called him on Wednesday, he made his way to my home with a bag full of ingredients that Friday.

As soon as the door bell rang, they beelined to open it. “Uncle Lawrence, uncle Lawrence is here,” Morgan yelled. “Yea,” Garrett replied.  Now, while I was excited for them, I was curious to see how he managed two toddlers in the kitchen. Lord knows, they drive me nuts and I have to get prayed up with liters full of patience just to get their help making a salad.

But they were on their best behavior. They washed hands, put their listening ears on, got all dressed up in their kiddie chef gear and Lawrence went to work teaching. They listened, they tasted and they watched his every move. And although their was an occasional battle over whose turn it was to knead the dough or spread the cheese for the most part they got along and the team approach worked.

Since, I watched from the next room, I have no idea the temperature of the oven or how long it had to bake. But I do know that they sat right in front of the oven glaring in its window until they heard it beep. “It’s ready, it’s ready,” Morgan sang. “ Oh yea, oh yea,” she continued as she danced around.

As he moved it to the top of the stove, they could barely wait for it to cool. Luckily, preparing the table for the lunch they made was a long enough distraction. “Well, “ come look at your work before I cut it,” he said and they both ran back to the kitchen. He smiled as he cut their slices and they smiled as they doled out one to each parent.

I believe that homemade cheese pizza was gone in minutes, and while he didn’t stay to watch them devour it, that one hour he spent with them will last a lifetime.

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What am I to Do, My Baby boy is 2

I’ve had a hard time noticing subtle changes in my babies. I guess because I work from home most days and spend so much time with them, I have to rely on growth charts to tell me how tall they’ve gotten or momentous occasions to remind me of how fast time flies. A few months ago I did notice that my toddler son’s baby feet, no longer smelled like baby. They smelled just like feet, like little people, dirty feet. And that was my reminder that he was growing up. Needless to say we’ve retired the baby feet in momma face during changing time game. I just can’t take any chances.

This weekend my youngest child turned two. I know, I know it’s just 24 months, but my oh my how he has changed in that time. He used to eat anything. Well not anymore, in fact, he has about five items on his menu and not one of them starts with green. He “used” to be quiet, well you guessed it; not anymore.  He used to go to just about anyone, well not really and he still doesn’t.

In fact there’s not too much he gets excited about, but Sesame Street characters and water activities are definitely among his favorites. So the new Lions Water Adventure Park in Kinston seemed a no brainer for his second birthday party. Birthdays in the Taylor house are BIG. When you’ve prayed as long and hard for babies as we did, birthdays are great reminders of the miracles God has performed in our lives, not once…but twice.

I don’t think we are alone in our birthday craze, my mom and brother worked for weeks to hand decorate each party bag with different Sesame Street characters for partygoers. And no one seemed to mind the additional 30 minute drive from Greenville to Kinston. His sudo auntie Sherri made his cookie monster cake and cupcakes per his request. My husband created the perfect t-shirt logo and his 4-year-old sister insisted on dressing up as Elmo for the party and the list goes on of special gestures to make his day extra special.

For two weeks we practiced him saying he is 2-years-old and explained that his birthday was fast approaching. His fingers still have not cooperated with a makeshift peace sign, but he’s working on it. He sang himself happy birthday and was quick to blow out his candle. He didn’t open his gifts until later that night before bath time and my oh my was he excited.

Needless to say, I still can’t believe he can look at me and quote his favorite line “I can do it myself.” And most of the time he actually can. To help with his new found independence we have dropped the “baby” from Baby G and now refer to him as “Little G.” I guess it’s true what they say that time waits for no man or momma. Happy Birthday Garrett M.