Wordless Wednesday

4 Limbs

It takes all 4, to hold the bottle.



Still purging and packing like a mad woman. We close tomorrow on the new house, and start painting/flooring/putting up a wall immediately. Busy, busy bees.

Meanwhile, my Blessing announced the other day, "I don't know why Daddy loves you." Humph.

A Nasty Day

We started off yesterday morning at 5 a.m. I woke up in a panic. Not sure exactly why. And that isn't very typical of me. I've lived in Arkansas almost my entire life, and I've not once gotten into a tub or hallway despite many, many, many tornado warnings. But, for whatever reason, a loud crash of thunder woke me with a jolt, and the lightening streaked so bright across the sky that I could see the trees outside our bedroom door bending over to touch the ground. The roar of the wind was almost as loud as the thunder, and before I could clear my brain from the half-asleep funk, I kicked my husband and said, "Get the kids" and jumped out of bed like a crazy woman. He obeyed. Which I now think is hilarious. No questions, no second guessing, he just jumped right up and ran out of the room. I grabbed the 2 that had already made it into our bed, some pillows, and we got in the hallway. After only a few minutes, with 6 children wide awake, giggling and raring to start their day, the wind already quieting, I was major regretting that decision. And my husband was reprimanding me (and making much fun) of my terrified state of mind. I took the teasing with a smile (or not), and felt pretty silly for being so rash. Come to find out, though... a tornado did indeed touch ground just 7 miles north of where we were. Momma's not so crazy after all.

School was cancelled for the day, and what do you do in the house with all these hyper, woke-up-too-early, can't go outside for the flooding, children? They really are creative. They cracked me up with this game:



For all of you who can't read or interpret children's writing.... that's "Beware Claws and Vicious Cat Den This Way". I should mention that when I saw the sign, our prissy little kitten was just underneath it. Faith was less than thrilled with my laughter. She said, "not THAT cat, Mom, the cats are in the den!" So I walked a little farther into one of the bedrooms that they had destroyed, er... um... ahem.... I mean created a wonderful den.




See all the kitty claws? The sound effects were fantastic, too. Lots of meowing, and maniacal type crying as they pretended to want to bite me to pieces. Thankfully that well built den held them back!

And then, when the arguing was more than I could take, we settled in for a movie and popcorn. A little later, after lunch, we all took a much needed nap. And the sun actually appeared in the afternoon.

She's 9

We have a new 9 year old in our house today. Yesterday, she was only 8. And according to her, she is much older today. There are so many things I love about this beautiful little girl who isn't so little anymore. This dynamite package is full of life. Whatever she does, she does it with every ounce of being she has, every bit of her heart, completely and passionately. There is not a doubt what she is feeling, she wears it very outwardly, and shares it with all the dramatic flare she thinks it deserves. She loves life, loves God, and loves people. Every. single. person. With all her heart. And don't dare doubt it. She laughs louder, loves harder, cries more dramatically, smiles more beautiful, hates more passionately, ever so sensitive, falls more often, has more mishaps, cares more genuinely, hurts cut her deeper, and gifts lift her higher ... than any other girl I know. We love her so much, and are blessed just to be a part of her life and to watch as God unfolds, teaches, and grows her right in front of our eyes. Happy Birthday, Sweetie!

Hide and Seek

How many girls do you think can fit in this little space?



All 5 that are big enough to play hide and seek. Apparently. Of course, all the giggling gave them away. That, and all the loot that is normally hidden in there was on the bed. Not the smartest hide-ers ever. But they are the cutest!

Breaking the Silence, and Beautiful Babies

Let's face it. I just won't ever be very consistent. At least not anytime soon. We should be closing on our current home tomorrow or Friday (hopefully), and closing on the one we are buying about a week after that. There is a few days to a week's worth of work on the new one before we can move in, but I'm already packing and purging like a crazy woman. I love throwing things away! ;) The complete opposite of my mom, who said, "I guess as long as I don't see what you're throwing away, it'll be ok." Very serious like. I assured her most of it was truly trash. And what might actually still be in tact and working, but hasn't been used since who knows when is being passed on to someone else. I'm really almost embarrassed at the amount of stuff we've accumulated. Good grief. Who even knew this house could hold that much?

A couple of random things I've heard since my little blog-cation:

"Mom, can I make with glitter again for st. bernard's day?" - Grace. I think she meant Valentines Day.

Said at church just after Sunday school, "Where's Tinkerbell? I can't find her!" - Blessing. With all the seriousness that assured me she knew Tinkerbell. About that time, a little girl I had not seen before came literally flittering by in a very pretty fairy looking dress. I leaned over to the teacher and asked what the new little girl's name was. It was Annabell.

"I can't wear those. My hair is brown." -Charity. Who thinks her hair, shirt, pants, and shoes should all match.

"Aren't you too old for that?" -Faith. When I was trying to dance the way they were. Did I just admit that?

"You're gonna pull your back!" -Hope. Darn that wittiness. You can expect her birthday post coming up... we'll have a big 9 year old girl soon!

46 months, Take 2

At 46 months old, Blessing had lived with us for half of her life. Charity, on the other hand, was 46 months old when she came to live with us. Just 2 months shy of her 4th birthday. That means, theoretically anyway, that we can't really expect the fears she has of being ripped from us to leave until she's lived with us half of her life.... 92 months old, 4 months shy of her 8th birthday. I can't think about that now. Our life with her is very much so day to day. I get overwhelmed if I think about continuing to live like this indefinitely. When I look back at Blessing's pictures over her first days and weeks with us, I think about how far she has come, I'm overwhelmed with love and joy and thanksgiving for her accomplishments. Sometimes, it's that bursting heart feeling, like I can't even stand the blessing she is to us and our family. Too good to have. Too wonderful to explain.

Can I be completely honest? Don't misinterpret. I can't even begin to tell you how much I love Charity. In fact, I think that's why this walk hurts so much. She's this amazing girl. I know it. I see it. She's in there somewhere. I know what she's capable of. I know the impact she can have on this world. I know she hurts. I see that, too. I know she's been wounded far beyond what most people can even comprehend. That knowledge, though, makes it SO STINKING hard to watch her self destruct. Maybe it's because we haven't seen the improvement so easily. Blessing changed by leaps and bounds at a time. Every day her learning, loving, and change was noticeable, and tangible. For whatever reason, though, when I look back at Charity's pictures, all I see is this very sick little girl. It isn't the same feeling. It's frustration, sadness, and anger. To the point that I don't like looking at them. All I can think is how sick she is.

Here's where we are with our precious Charity: her attorney has made the recommendation that we be able to adopt. Fantastic. One check on our very long list. Next up: I finally approached her case worker about my disdain for her psychiatrist, and she gave me the approval I needed to find someone else. We found an attachment therapist who was willing to take her, however does not do her own evaluations or diagnosing. In other words, we would first have to find someone who would diagnose RAD, or at the very least say it needed ruled out for her. Another wall. Let me remind you we're here in po-dunk AR, where there seems to be lots of slamming of doors at the mention of RAD. But my pessimism turned out to be uncalled for, and a local therapist did a diagnostic evaluation on our Charity. She came up with 4 possible diagnosis that she felt Charity might be dealing with, all of which need to be ruled out by a psychiatrist. They were RAD, PTSD, FAS, and Bi-polar. And I'm sure any mother of "normal" kids reading is probably blowing a gasket, I'm here to tell you I was not at all phased by the possibility of us facing one, or a combination of any of those. In fact, as strange as it may sound, it's almost comforting. Mind you I do not want anything to be wrong with my baby. I do not want to deal with any of those disorders. But my husband and I are long past the stage of denial, far beyond hoping love will be enough. We know we can't love this out of her. We know just living with us won't somehow penetrate and heal her wounds. We know we need help. We know she needs help. We are more than ready to just accept whatever this is, and get on with how to handle it. Just like if she had cancer or some physical medical condition, we just want the best care, the best doctors, the best chance for her to live a full, joyful life. And in that moment, it was nice to be heard, to know that someone was agreeing that these things are not normal, and that we need more help than, "Oh, she's just a tough nut to crack. Come again in 6 weeks."

So we're in another holding pattern, but this time optimistic about having an actual attachment therapist. The referral has been made, so we wait. And hang on for dear life in the mean time.